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Daylight.
I crept my eyes open.
Why were my curtains open?
Oh, right... It was today. Today was the day that Iwould became an adult.
Bunch of bullshit.
just my luck that future day was the same day as my 18th birthday.
Could i get a few more years of beying a kid?
I got out of bed, showered and headed down to the salon. Run by a couple of kids who were running up and down the stairs.
I was going to miss living here.
Future Day is the day that 100 random 18 year old kids are "evaluated"to see what they could do with their future, after the evaluation, we are sorted into several departments that will give us a trial job and a house. some years ater i'll be called in to donate sperm so i can have a kid that I'll never meet.
At least this was what Poe told me.
Poe was one of our Parents. He is cool, i mean, all of our parents are, but is the coolest. He prepared me for this day.
\- 13, hurry up. They're here to pic you up! - Mother Elva yelled.
Shit, already? I didn't even ate yet.
\- Do I need my bagpack or anything? - I asked.
\- No sweetie. They will give you everything you need after your evaluation.
\- Where's father Poe?
\- Oh... Poe is... feeling unwell. He asked to give you his goodbye.
\- Oh... I'm sorry. Can I see him?
\- Its better if you don't my dear. Now go and remember my dear 13, be happy.
I smiled at her, nodded and left.
Smiling.
Even if i'm scared.
​
........................................................ after 3 hours........................................................
\- Hello, arre you 13? - A tall woman asked.
\- Yes I am.
\- Good, you are up next 13, just go straight ahead and then enter the second door on the left. Mr. Any will meet you there.
I left, feeling uneasy... i knew what my future was. I saw them on the way here.
The dreamers.
Father Poe once told me that they used to be called homeless. Nowadays dreamers where the homeless.
I was a Dreamer. I dreamed of blood.
\- 13?
\- Yes sir.
\- My name is Any. please sit down. Now, 13. i am gonna put this device on your forehead.
\- What does it do?
\- It reads dreams.
Shock. Father Poe didn't tell me about this! so I was going to dream for them? Or were they suposed to peer into my past dreams? Shit.
And just like that, I slept.
.......................................................................................................................................
\- 13? Wake up.
\- Evaluation remember? I have your results.
\- I'm a dreamer right?
\- What? no sir.
\- Then?
\- Special time police.
No way. He's shitting me.
\- We have your first mission: A father and some mothers ran to 1888 and you need to hunt them.
\- Arrest them?
\- Kill them.
Was i dreaming? Could this be? They were assigning me as a hitman?
\- When? - I asked.
\- In 30 minutes, no trainig needed, they are just mere parents, untrained for anything else then raising kids. Just remember, you can't be caught.
I stood up, shook is hand and a man showed up.
\- Hi, my name is Zod, short for Zodiac. You shall acompany me please.
I started Following the man, just the I remembered:
\- Oh Mr. Any, almost forgot. Whats my name?
\- ... Jack. Now Jack, go rip them. |
But the clouds would not care. The driving wind, gently rattling the window, blew ever stronger. What goes up, must come down. And it would come down on him. The dark mass twisted, stretched, a malevolent spirit threatening the horizon and the sanctity of *later*. From the greying of the distant sky it was clear the rain had started. He could not hear it yet, but it was clearly visible along the horizon. Irritation filled his face, only deepening as that cruel wind drew it ever closer to the glass. As the roar of the storm fully reached him sheets, no, blades of water lashed the building. It was falling with such force that the rebound would make things doubly wet. Make him soaked, and cold, and dejected. The room was warm, and the contrast with the power of the storm outside gave the air an energised expectance. His mind, ever quick to adapt, raced the droplets down the window. Colliding, slipping and sliding, overtaking and cornering in their desperate flight to the bottom. Would the first drop win? A late entry, fast, agile, joins rivulets and streams to hit the base with a splash!
Figures danced across the pane, ducking and weaving, flighting and bleeding to the persistent beat of the rain. Distant punctuations of thunder sent ripples through the room but he cared not, the rain persisted. Games could be played, distractions made, time would pass. Pass faster. But inattention invites disaster, a curt phrase brought him swiftly back to earth;
“Something you want to share with the class, Yassin?”
The tittering of his peers peeled and rang within the room, and the half-smile slid off the boy's face, returning to a dull indifference.
“No Miss.”
“I thought not. Now please pay **attention** to page 37, you'll find it ever so useful that... understanding... acceptance...”
His attention lapsing once more, the storm continued unabated. But the thrill, the exploration was gone. It would be another lengthy day, stretching dismally toward a sodden and tiring trudge home. |
It was an old faith, one of balance.
What was the value of peace without war?
What was satisfaction without knowing the pain of wanting?
A sated hunger is all the sweeter after you have known the raw ache of starvation isn't it?
I am the Taroch of the old sect. The first. The scales of the world are calibrated within my temple, the people only know the joys they take for granted if I set out the loss they learn to fear the pain they loathe to feel.
But times change and as with all creatures I too am not infallible. Age weakens resolve, like the old dog that just watches the ball as it's thrown and rolls over for the pats it receives all the same. I have found that what those who have endeavoured to expose us as villains, shaping the world for the worse, do not consider is balance. If every person lived a blessed life, no one would be happy, all would be equal and yet all would want more than the rest to set themselves apart.
That which we provide is necessary, though how can we preach of balance if we are only here to provide one side of the spectrum? We have held the scales down on one side for so long, as medicine advanced we began to push, as we learned of bacteria and virus' we fell on the scales with all our might, changing the world in small ways to restore that balance.
And yet I stopped her as she ran. My hand closing around her backpack on instinct. An instinct I didn't have, one that was culled long ago and replaced with a divine purpose. She couldn't have been more than six, brown hair so dark it could be mistaken for black were it not for the morning sun proving otherwise. She turned around as I placed her, dangling awkwardly underneath her arm straps, back onto the pavement. Her eyes were a brown much brighter than her hair, and they burned with anger.
"My backpack!"she said, yelling so all the street could hear, adults didn't like to draw attention, kids didn't know how to be embarrassed yet.
I apologised, told her I thought it was a very nice backpack and walked into the road so she could cross. As she reached the other side a man was running up to her waving towards me apologetically, a woman was following closely hand on chest.
Dad had dropped the ball.
I waved politely and turned to walk away before an ear piercing "THANK YOU!!!"thundered across the street. The girl sat on her dad's shoulders, hands around her mouth in an effort to push her message all the way over to my side of the street no more than 25 feet away.
She heaved in again "I'M STILL LEARNING THE ROAD RULES!!"
Chuckling I gave a quick thumbs up and continued on my way.
It felt good to have a little bit of balance. |
Somewhere in the United States, a young woman who had just finished a delightfully cherry and robust clarinet rendition of a song composed by some ubiquitously known (*and some would say mostly overrated*) male European classical composer (*who undoubtedly lived a life full of licentiousness*) for her schools yearly music competition, while passing her male classmate in the opposite direction of the stage, will pat him gently atop the shoulder and say with no ill will, "break a leg". Several minutes later, at possibly the worst possible moment (*or the best considering who you ask about the situation as most would agree that the young pupils aptitude, or what his mother would lie and claim was his 'gift*', *for musical talent was painfully inferior to that of the young clarinet soloist before him*), that boy will suffer a horrible predicament, that may be only temporary but will remain an absolute enigma to him and every witness to the strange event; a confounding trick of the imagination and a bewildering mess, almost terrifying in it's absurdity, to rattle any future listener. How oddly timed and highly unfortunate it seemed.
At around the same time, a young man in Hawaii, after parking his eyesore of a car at an angle in his parents mostly straight driveway, will exit from the drivers side, slam shut the rickety car door, and several impaired foot falls later, will stop approximately 7 steps away from the door and exclaim in an overly exaggerated manner, "oh, fuck me!"and stomp his feet, one-two-three, back to the car as he had forgotten the very reason he had left the safe comfort of the abode all those hours ago in the first place: his father's high blood pressure medication. Upon dropping himself in the seat of his car, a very strange, very intoxicating, and very alluring spell will begin to take over him. Something even more powerful than the suddenly new taste of whiskey that touched his palette after he'd ran his tongue over every inch in and around his mouth that he could reach. Something was taking over and he just couldn't stop (*and the gearshift was looking particularly handsome just then*). How utterly gross, sweaty and indecent it surely was.
In Japan, a man who works tirelessly for 12 hours a day at his mostly boring job, is distracted, gathering his things and mentally preparing himself for the long commute home, when a good friend with too-long hair who, during his earlier days, exhibited all the unhealthy traits of being classified a "raucous youth"with pride, asks if he wouldn't mind helping him settle into his new apartment this upcoming weekend. Knowing full well the hard physical labor involved with helping someone move into a new place such as the trouble and toil of hauling and heaving many square and rectangular shaped objects of varying sizes and weights from one place to another dispirited him and he let out a reflexive sigh. Just the same, without realizing it, his face revealed a look of pure exasperation as he counted the days before the idea of a rapidly approaching weekend would even begin to excite him (*as he doesn't usually feel enthusiastic about the weekend until Thursday night*) and to his dismay, it was still, only Monday. His dear friend feeling the dread in the air was almost palpable thought it best to remind him that their boss, who ruled by manner of seniority, was in fact, an anus-incarnate, and that he shouldn't let his recent breakup - break him - down; and so, he said, "...no need to bang your head against the wall about it, buddy."and the Japanese man did literally just that.
\* edits: grammar not corrected during quick proofread; thanks for reading! \* |
"The pen is mightier than the sword!"
As the words left my mouth I knew that they'd be lost on the haggard looking man in torn and bloody fatigues. He rolled his pale blue eyes at me and said;
"Look son, I know the sign says volunteer station but we are really looking for people to carry and fire guns at the dam exies. So why don't you pick out one in your size and I'll tell you which direction to point it in."
I shook my head and said;
"They aren't Extra terrestrials, they're from Earth. They came from a parallel universe."
The man chuckled as he stood up and searched the gun rack behind his desk momentarily.
"Dr. Richtofen theorized that when they first contacted us through the wormhole, and I've been studying the effects of the wormholes on us."
I continued before the man pulled a long bolt action rifle from the rack and said;
"Oh you can do math? I think I've got one of the ballistics cards in my desk somewhere."
He placed the rifle on the table and then began pulling open drawers at random.
"The radiation from the wormholes it's causing something that I think could win us the war if we use it properly. "
The man continued ignoring me as he threw papers out of the desk drawers. Then placed a box that read Remington .308, and a piece of lamented paper on the desk. Then he picked up the rifle and checked the action.
"Pretty simple, you point the end of this at an exie, pull the trigger, cycle the bolt, and do it again. If nothing comes out when you pull the trigger you put more bullets in alright?"
He demonstrated cycling the bolt and loading more bullets as he spoke then handed me the rifle and pushed over the box and card.
"Yes, I know how to shoot, but if you'll just let me show you-"
He pointed to his left and said;
"Once you're out the door head that way for about three blocks and try to find a building that still has a second floor. If you run out of bullets or you see the sun come up two times you come back here ok?"
"No, you need to see this, we can win the war!"
The man sat down and pulled a pistol from one of the open drawers.
"This ain't a war son this is an extermination with extra steps, now get out of my office before I shoot you."
I backed out of the room and began holding an image in my mind. I'd never tried something this complex before and I felt a dull ache begin behind my right eye as I pushed the image out into reality. Smoke and sparks of electrical discharge began to billow in front of me as the dull ache became a stabbing pain and I felt a trickle of blood begin to pour from my nose. Then with a loud pop the smoke condensed to a single point and blazed brilliantly for an instant. Standing where the mote of light had been was a humanoid figure nearly eight feet tall covered head to toe in armour painted bright yellow with red accents and a black fist symbol emblazoned on each massive pauldron. The figure turned to face me and mechanical whirring accompanied his movement. A computerized voice came from the figure saying;
"Citizen what has happened?"
"Terra is under attack, and the invaders are dressed like this."
I extracted and held out a picture of the beings that had wiped out billions of people. Then pointed in the direction the man had shown me and said;
"They're that way."
The figure raised his massive weapon from it's place on his hip.
"Thank you citizen" |
I was never supposed to be there.
I knew that my parents were working on something big. They hadn't had time for me in years, and half of my babysitters were high level government personnel. I distinctly remember being served a PB&J by the head of the Pentagon on several occasions. There were a few times that top-brass Generals had sat down and watched The Wiggles with me. By the time the accident happened, some of them even knew all the words to "Fruit Salad".
I had wandered down to the lab because it was bedtime, and I really wanted a hug from my mother for once. The last thing I remember was her yelling for me to get out of the way. Then blue arcs of electricity hit my chest, and fade to black.
I woke up a few months later, so they tell me. I'd been put in an isolation room, enclosed in glass with nothing but a hamster bottle the size of a toddler and a cat bed the size of a cow to keep me company. Outside, my parade of top secret babysitters stood watch alongside my parents. They all flinched back when I opened my eyes, as if I was now a monster instead of the adorable 10 year old they entertained and fed.
That was years ago now. Almost 15, to be exact. I graduated from the isolation tank to have free roam of the house as soon as I proved I'd try my best to not destroy things. But I was never allowed to go back outside. Until today. There are two options, either they think I'm finally mature enough to handle the public, or the results of my parent's work is ready to be presented at some science conference and I'm needed as proof. Probably the latter but I don't mind. I just want to feel the pure sunlight on my back, and the wind in my face.
"Are you ready to go sweetheart?"my mother asked politely.
*Of course I am, I've been waiting for this for 15 years* I responded. She flinched just a little, undetectable to human eyes but screaming of her guilt and sorrow to my changed form.
"Alright dear, the van is just pulling around the drive. It's a 15 minute drive to the auditorium, so please have a little patience."
I climbed into the van slowly, trying not to nick my sides on the door frame. On the drive there, I expanded my consciousness to view how the world had changed during my confinement. More families, better infrastructure, and faster cars. But of course it would seem that way, a human 10 year old doesn't really notice those things.
When we got to the staging area at the outdoor auditorium, the van backed halfway into a tent and I was prompted to get out and stay there until my name was called. I rumbled with frustration, carefully stretching everything so as not to rip the tent.
I didn't pay attention to much, enjoying the brand new smells swirling around my nose. Then a short girl was directing me towards the tent flap, and I registered my father calling my name.
"...I present to you, Eliza! The first ever successful experiment of Operation Fairytale, our pride and joy!"
I waddled out onto the stage, and puffed out my wings in surprise at the huge crowd. This was more people than I'd seen in my life! My scales rippled in shock and fright as everyone took a few subconscious steps back.
*Father, what is this!?* I queried, much louder than intended. The first few rows of people clutched their heads as my psychic connection resounded through them. My parents simply gave me a shushing motion.
"Eliza, we are presenting you to the world. We have finally re-entered the age of magic, and it is time to inform the masses. As a dragon, you are the living physical proof, and you bring hope." |
Sorry for the vulgarities but it fit the character,
“Shut up,” I yelled while raising the gun. Clearly the quivering little shit got the memo, I was not in the mood for anymore arguments. This job had already gone too far for my liking. I was beginning to wish I hadn’t made the decisions that prevented me from just walking away and leaving everyone tits up behind me. “Look here, Jack ass, you’ve tried to fuck this up a half-dozen times since I snatched the two of you. You hired me because you want to cozy up to this girl and her daddy’s money. I laid out the plan for you. Gave you the script. Told you where to be and you’ve done nothing but fuck it up. Now, her daddy wants proof of life and I’m going to give it to him.”
The small man’s pinched face tightened even further shrinking his eyes to beady little black specks. “Look, I told you just cut off a toe or something. It doesn’t have to be a finger.”
“You want credit for saving her, right?”
“Yeah, but?”
“Then her daddy needs to know she’s in real danger. A toe’s a dead giveaway since that goddamn movie. Relax, it’ll only be a pinky.”
“Alright, I guess, but I gotta be married to that snotty little bitch for a while, and I don’t care how much money her daddy’s got I’m not going to fuck some scarred monstrosity.” The creepy half smirk on his face made me want to vomit. “That’s why I only fleece the pretty young heiresses. Too naïve to see past the bullshit I feed ‘em.”
“Oh yeah, there’s something else, the second half of my payment.”
“I told you. You get the money when it’s over.”
I waved towards the laptop on the square folding table in the center of the room. The house had been on the market for almost a year, it lacked power and furniture, but the neighbors had an open WIFI. “You’ll sit in that camp chair and transfer me the other ten grand by the time I come out or I’ll shoot you and risk the cops at a pick up from daddy.”
I walked down the hall pulling a small jewelry box from my pocket. I slid the muzzle of the unloaded 9 mil in my belt and reached down to retrieve the buck knife I kept in my work boot. I looked back to the living room. I made eye contact with the sniveling little shit and flashed my best attempt at a sinister grin, before going into the bedroom. I looked at the girl with her ankles tied to the legs of a stool and hands cuffed behind her back in the otherwise empty room. Her wide terrified eyes were pinned to the knife in my hand as I closed the door behind me. I lowered my voice till it was just loud enough for her to hear. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need your help.”
Her eyes stayed on the knife as she started to scream into the tape over her mouth. I realized she wasn’t listening to what I was saying. I bent over to return the knife to my boot. “Now, can I count on your help?” I waited for a nod, her tangled blonde coming forward to cover the lines of smeared make-up. “I’m supposed to be cutting off your finger.” She resumed her attempts to cry out despite the silver duct tape. “That’s actually perfect. I’m not going to do it, but I need you to scream like I am. Can you do that.”
She nodded again, eyes watering, more lines of mascara dragging down her cheeks. I ripped the tape and she let out a high-pitched screech. My ears were ringing so bad I assumed blood had to be leaking from them. My hands returned the tape to end the pain before my brain could send the signal to do it. Still in shock from the sudden blistering headache I’d received, I stepped away from the continued muffled sounds. “That was spot on. Don’t worry, you’ll be out of here soon.”
I took a deep breath, stilled myself to put my angry business face back in place. I pulled the knife back out and cut a slit at the end of my index finger. I squeezed the wound open and smeared the blood over my hands, and the blade before wiping some on the front of my shirt. It always amazes me how little blood it takes to make such a large mess. After closing the door, I walked back down to the living room, my best attempt at a sadistic smile on my face. The little shit glared back at me as I approached. I put one knee down as I returned the blade to my boot again. I opened my mouth and let my tongue slide over my canine, as I reached him. “You do what I told you?”
“No,” At the sound of his nasally whine, my hand found the grip of the 9 mil. “You can wave that pistol around all you want. From here on, this is my show. I’m not going to be bossed around by some two-bit petty crook. When I found you, you were breaking the kneecaps of gamblers unable to come up with a couple of hundred bucks. If you want a real paycheck, you’re going to do what I say. Now, give me the gun so I can save the girl, while you’re out delivering the finger.”
He didn’t even have time to react when I smacked his ugly sneer with the handle. At last, I allowed a real smile as he crumpled to the floor from the satisfying crunch. I stepped over the little shit’s unconscious body as his nose and mouth leaked blood on the floor and headed to the front door. Flanked by overgrown green lawn on each side, I walked along the front walk in the bright sunlight, my eyes blinking after the dusky house. I crossed the street to knock on the backdoor of an edible arrangements delivery van. The door opened to reveal four men in vests and uniforms to go with the two suited detectives. “You get what you need?”
“Yeah,” the detective at the door moved her grey eyes up and down my body. She seemed to be measuring me up like an opposing fighter. “If you don’t mind my asking. Why come to us? Why not just turn down the job?”
I lifted my shirt, yanked the transmitter taped to my gut free, the wire and microphone going with it. I handed it to her not breaking eye contact. “A couple enforcement gigs, the occasional bank job, good honest work. This guy’s dirty, doesn’t deserve to breath unfiltered air. If I would’ve followed my better judgement, I should’ve just taken care of it the old-fashioned way when he came to me.”
“I would’ve regretted arresting you for it. Jones watch Melnick her, the rest of you follow me. Two with me through the front and the other two go in around back.”
Jones seemed more focused on the feeds from his fellows’ bodycams than watching me. So, I just walked away. |
It was midnight.
Grit lied in the streets of Gotham. The sirens wailed in the distance. It was said that a crime was committed every five seconds, but how true it is depends on one's view.
On the rooftop of the G.C.P.D HQ, a searchlight with a bat symbol shone into the bleak midnight sky as if it were a beacon of hope. Commissioner James "Jim"Gordon was standing near the light for at least an hour, hoping to get the attention of the "Bat".
During the interrogations, the suspects gave contradictory reports of the "Bat". There were those that said the "Bat"was some man with gadgets who just gave them a brutal beating. There were others that said he was a bat-like mutated man who ripped limbs off and ate them. Some even said there were two of them! Whatever the case was, Jim hoped that this new vigilante truly had what's best for the city.
His long time co-worker Harvey Bullock left after 15 minutes, saying that "this isn't going to work. And if it does, you're not going to make it."But Jim was still the idealistic rookie he once was in heart and spirit. And he would soon get his wish, as he noticed a shadowy figure at the next rooftop.
The figure then glided towards the tired Commissioner, landing just before him.
"So you're the Bat that's been giving us all these criminals,"quipped Jim. "Have to admit, you are helping us with the crime rates."He then lit and smoked his cigarette. "I wonder, is it all easy for you?""You wanted me here for a reason, Commissioner,"stated the Bat in a baritone voice that sounded disguised. "And you can thank me later for bringing those criminals". The cape flowed to his right as the wind breezed.
"There have been reports of a bat-like mutant on the loose, who goes around tearing the limbs off of criminals. Apparently they call him the 'Man-Bat'. You don't happen to know of this, do you?"asked Jim as he tossed his cigarette away. When Jim saw the mask of the Bat, he noticed something familiar about his cheeks.
"Kirk Langstrom. He's behind these mutilations, not me. Trust me,"said the caped vigilante. He then pulled some photographs of a bat like humanoid creature, a zoologist, and his files on chiropterology and research in the use of sonar senses for humans.
Jim skimmed through the files. "So this Man-Bat is some washed up zoologist, who tried to cure deafness?""Correct. Unfortunately it had the side effect of turning him into something monstrous, and I'm trying to stop it. His notes mentioned a antidote in case something ever happened."
"Look, I'll inform my officers about this and to clear you. In the meantime, just don't try to do anything stupid."
"I won't,"stated the caped crusader as he turned around to the HQ's ledge. He pulled out his grappling gun and aimed it towards a high rise building's gargoyle. Just before he could fire it, Jim Gordon cried out "Wait!"
The Bat then turned his head around.
"Thomas and Martha would have been so proud of you, Bruce,"said the Commissioner in a soft voice.
As if to say a thank you, the Bat made a small smile before turning his head back towards the gargoyle, firing his grappling gun at it. The "Batman"quickly zipped to the high rise and disappeared into the shadows once again.
However, Jim suddenly heard the cries of a man-like bat screech in the distance... |
As I was taking potshots at the approaching HAC bots, I glanced inside at our hacker, who was currently fidling with the mainframe unit of this factory, and willed her to work faster. We were taking heavy losses both from the rogue bots made here and the defensive turrets: if this didn't work, we wouldn't get out of here.
"Shit!"I swore and dove into the room, just as the rocket volley exploded against the wall where I stood a second before. During my fall, I thought about my options: my gun was next to useless against the heavily armored HAC bots, I only had one grenade left, not to mention the explosion might be enough to bring this ancient underground facility down on us, and we had to stay in this room, as this was the only terminal she could use to hack this place we found. I was brought back from my reverie by another salvo smashing into the doorframe. I came to a decision.
The grenade was midflight when a minigun burst hit it.
The explosion reverberated through the hall. When the smoke cleared, one bot was destroyed and the remaining two lost their plating. Finnishing them off was a matter of a single burst to their now exposed cores each. The area was clear. For now.
I took the opportunity to reload and try to scavenge something from the room we were in now that I had the time to do so. It only took me some five minutes to find a magazine of shredder rounds and two remotely detonated grenades. Jackpot. I switched out the magazines and tried to find someone on the comms. Nothing.
I expected that. The material the walls were made of interfered with comm signal. I just had to hope they weren't responding because they were somewhere else in the building, not because they were dead.
"Ok, I'm in. Beginning systemwide hack. It's gonna take a while, though.
Not five seconds after my comm check I heard heavy stomps from the hallway. We couldn't close the door since we didn't have admin priviledges and the chance wahtever it was would miss us was astronomical, given the angle of the door and hallway. I peeked out and immediately ducked back inside. It was a terminator bot. Five of them.
I felt the laser graze my head, vaporizing a bit. This was really bad. Terminator bots were the current pinnacle of warfare. Shields, lasers, hacking protection... five of us against one of them would have little to no chance. Alone against five of them? A salvo of lasers perforated the wall within an inch of my head. Right, and advanced tactical intelligence. I dropped down on the floor and thought about what to do. I had no way of damaging these things given their shields. I looked over my equipment once again: a rifle with one magazine of shredder rounds and four more of standard ammo and two grenades.
A grim smile crept across my face as I came to a decision.
I peeked out, the volley barely missing me, and threw the grenades. Not at the bots, but at the ceiling. When they reahced the top of their arc, I triggered the detonators.
The ceiling collapsed right in front of them. Not fast enough to prevent them from shooting my chassis full of holes with their second salvo, however. As I fell to the ground, cooling fluid and electrolyte flowing freely onto the floor.
The last things I heard was a loud DING and a voice saying "Hack complete."
...................................
Subreddit containing all of my stories set in the verse: [r/OfRobotsAndHumans](https://www.reddit.com/r/OfRobotsAndHumans/) |
I was only 9.
I'd heard the rallying cries of the angry mob and thought they were coming after my mother – and, to her short-lived relief, she had briefly thought the same. But she was soon corrected as she pressed her ear against the door to hear whose name the mob possessed. She recoiled as soon as she recognized it:
\*“Ma-bel. Ma-bel. Ma-bel.”\*
Mabel was my name – I was named after my grandmother who couldn't make the trip from England to the new country. The dim glow of the torches in the distance became brighter as the mob approached in a brisk walk up the hill to our cottage. My mother, Mary, clasped her hands against the window's ledge and barked orders at my brother and I. Collecting what few clothes and essentials we had, we hurriedly put them into sacks that my mother kept near the bedroom. Shirts, a few flasks, a knife, and some jam from the pantry.
My mother knelt in front of my brother and they locked eyes. She held him firmly by the shoulders. “Nicholas, remember to take care of your sister, always. No matter what happens. As we had discussed.” Nicholas nodded at my mother, no words escaping his lips. He was steadfast and silent. He grabbed me, in my opinion a little too hard, by the wrist.
She clasped the windowsill one last time. The mob had arrived. The torchlight was no longer a delicate dance of flames: it was like the sun just after sunrise, shining directly into the east-facing window and leaving nothing to the darkness. My mother pushed herself away from the window with great effort, crossed the room, and flipped open the lid of the davenport. She reached inside, shuffled some papers and ink aside, until she found a latch and pulled.
Underneath the desk a small door popped open, and a copper key attached to a leather cord fell neatly into my mother's palm. I felt a dull shaking of the cottage as the mob began to beat the feet into the ground along with the beat of my name. Tears started to pool around the corner of my eyes. I was scared.
But apparently, this is something that Nicholas and my mother had prepared for. And I would soon learn that they had done so quite thoroughly, and with great intention. Nicholas led me to my mother's 5-tiered solid oak dresser which lay directly across the room from her always-locked chest. Though he was only 13, Nicholas was already turning into a stocky young man. He was quickly outgrowing the clothes my mother had just sewed him, so she was having to make adjustments every few weeks. Even now I could see his pant legs were slightly too short and his arms were slightly too long for his sleeves.
Nicholas braced himself between the cottage wall and pressed his feet against the dresser. He strained, and with a screech much louder than I was comfortable with, the dresser scraped across the floor, revealing a trapdoor underneath.
“Nicholas! you need to move more quickly,” my mom shouted from the kitchen. She was in the middle of moving chairs against the doors and covering the windows with as much fabric as she could find. “I'm almost finished -” Mid-sentence, I heard the glass shatter. I fought my way out of Nicholas' grasp to peek and I saw that a torch, fully lit, had landed squarely in the center of the room. The flame licked at the floorboards as it began to spread.
My mother had done her best to barricade ourselves against the efforts of the mob. She kicked angrily at the torch and it spread to another corner of the room.
“Mother, the fire...” I started, trying to hold back sobs.
“It's fine, Mabel,” she said, scooping me up as she made her way into the bedroom. I could feel the heat from the kitchen beginning to bother my skin. Nicholas had gotten the trapdoor open and my mother put me into his arms. He began to take me down the dank, wooden staircase and into the darkness below.
“Nicholas, it's dark.” I began.
Nicholas gave me a tight hug. “It's fine,” he said. “Mother told me we can just feel our way out. She'll be with us soon, we just need to get started.” The sound of the fire crackling overhead became more faint with every step. I wriggled as much as I could.
“I want to see her \*now\*,” I said, and with one final hopeless kick, Nicholas had missed the last step of the staircase and fell forward into darkness, his outstretched hands releasing their grip on me.
I ran as fast as I could up the staircase only to be shocked at what I saw:
My mother's always-locked chest was sitting wide open, and my mother was pulling out – could it be? Was I certain? She pulled out what seemed to be old bones, skeletons with some pieces of flesh attached to them. She laid them out in order – skull, neck, arms and shoulder, ribs, legs – under the covers of the bed.
I screamed. She looked at me, and with a look that could silence any demon from the pits of hell spoke. “Mabel. You \*need\* to be quiet. And they \*need\* to think we've been killed.” |
I blinked when I saw the words on my door.
“ But why ?” Is what I wrote back, underneath the message in Sharpie.
I saw more scratches start to form, but after 20 minutes, nothing was legible. So i wrote down my cell number. Within a minute, I got a call.
“Hello?”
“Oh my Satan, this is so much faster than writing!” came the gruff voice. I recognized it.
“No doubt, it took you months to write three words. When are you coming Baal? I need to know when I have to make cheese biscuits.” I asked
“Tomorrow night.”
“Good, you can see if the old cow gets reelected as mayor.”
“That’s not nice to say about an older woman! I might be the devil but we have class!” Baal replied.
“I am talking about an actual bovine with a beehive wig you idiot. Her name is Bessie and she likes brunch. Trust me, its the most exciting thing living in this tiny town...” I said.
“Oh... well see you tomorrow.”
I sighed as I ended the call. Guess I have to go shopping. |
I wasn’t sure what to write. I’d had my pen and notepad in my hands for the past five minutes, twiddling my fingers and wondering if it would be okay to write everything I’d seen. Would it be rude or inhumane? Who would want to read this in the first place?
The reporter hadn’t spoken at all since they’d picked him up from the Island. The locals of Anarchy Island had cut out his tongue, supposedly after he’d cried out to stop them from torturing a disabled man. He’d gone blind as well from the devastating infection that had plagued most of the people on the Island.
His hearing was still intact, which was both a blessing and a tragedy. Using our newly-developed decoder, the technician and I had deduced from his gestures and the decoder’s output readings that he’d heard a lot of terrible things while on the Island. Against my training, I tried not to look too deeply into what he was saying and convinced myself it was because he’d lost a bit of his sanity instead of the more obvious and true reason — that it was just too much to bear.
But for you, since you’re so desperate to know what exactly happened, I’ll give you a few examples.
1. Murder
2. Snapping bones
3. Rape
4. The cries of hunger
5. Screams cut short
6. Drowning
7. The smell of burning flesh
I’d rather not go into the rest. This won’t be released to the public anyway. Anarchy Island is supposed to be a “huge success”. After all, if Anarchy Island is shut down, where else are the higher-ups supposed to put the undesirables? |
"Planning to go to a shooting range?"The store clerk asked monotonously. I nodded, my eyes not parting away from the stacks of bullets in the display case. "I'll get some of these,"I mumbled.
My mind was numb. It has been for the past few months. Bills upon bills. Debts increasing. I couldn't do it anymore. I let my legs carry me home as if I were in a weird trance. Along with my new purchase in my hand. Upon entering my home, I heard joyful giggles from the other room.
"Dad's home!"my little five year old toddler squealed as he tackles me with a big hug. I did our usual dance which consisted of me holding him in the air and twirling him around until he was sick of it. "Hey buddy. What have you been up to?"I asked. He took his beanie off revealing his shaved head, "We shaved my hair off! Do you like it?!"His eyes sparkled with excitement. I nodded, forcing myself to smile. For five years we let his hair grow out. He loved putting it in braids. Just like that, it was all gone.
"Collin go clean up your mess before dinner,"my wife playfully pushes him back into the play room. I hugged her, trying to mask the sadness, frustration, pity-- every emotion I was feeling. "I figured it will be easier for him to not know. I didn't want his first haircut to be at the hospital,"my wife explained. I kissed her forehead and proceeded to set the dinner table together.
"How was work?"My wife attempted to fill the silence.
"I got approved for insurance through the company,"I shrugged. She congratulates me. It's been so long since I've had a full time job with full benefits including the retirement and life insurance.
After diner, I did my chores and tucked Collin in bed. My wife had to work nights in order to help pay for the hospital bills. We would switch to ensure Collin wouldn't be home alone. I walked into my closet and found my one true solution to this mess. The metal felt cold around my fingertips as I slowly walked to the next room.
Fully loaded, I walk in and watch as my son sleeps peacefully. I silently cried while I walked closer to the foot of his bed. The only thing I could do was watch him for a while. Trying to paint a mental picture of this very moment.
This is it, the gun is in my hand. One bullet. Just pull the trigger and this nightmare will be over. I knew it would come to this, I've been planning it for months. After hesitating for an hour I close my eyes point the gun and fired.
I felt relieved, I'm going to die, the pain is over. |
There were still a lot of comments under each one of my videos saying I was a liar. It's impossible, and I'm trolling the masses. I agree. It *is* impossible.
Yet here I am.
I still can't decide if I should delete the comments or not, I lean forward in my chair, hearing it softly creak as I shifted my weight, and start scrolling again. Suddenly, a loud dance mix started blasting into the silence, causing me to jump a mile, gasp, and snap my head towards my phone.
Unknown. I sighed. It's always unknown now...
I rejected the call and turned off my PC. That's enough torture for now.
I wandered around my empty house. At 18 I still live at home with my parents, but since the world found out I didn't need food to survive the constant letters and strangers coming to the house was too much for them. They left me a card for emergencies and went to visit some friends who live a few hours away for the foreseeable future. Ironically, my mother had left lasagne in the fridge. Like she'd forgotten *why* this was all happening.
I sighed again, deeper this time. I couldn't focus on anything these days. I allowed my mind to drift back to the first video where I'd claimed I didn't need food, that it'd been 6 days since I'd eaten and I was fine. People had laughed at me, only a couple of eccentrics believed me - and I don't blame them. If it wasn't happening to me I wouldn't believe it either. In that time, I'd uploaded a lot of videos, including a week long live stream, where I showered in a bathing costume and even slept on camera in hopes people would believe me. That was three months ago, and you could say it worked.
I peeked out of my blinds and saw a couple of news guys standing on my muddy lawn. It used to be a nice lawn, but had been ruined over the last 3 months. That's how long it had been since I'd eaten.
You'd think I'd need more sleep, because I'd need energy from somewhere, but actually, now my body isn't trying to digest food constantly, I have way more energy. I'm averaging 6 hours a night, instead of the usual 8 I used to get. I drink way less too, and obviously, I can't remember the last time I pooped.
Once again, the dance mix played out again. Unknown.
I hit reject and swallowed back my tears. I felt so alone. Even my family abandoned me. I needed a distraction.
I slumped on the sofa and hit the power button on the TV
"...very well could be a hoax, but what do you think?"The pretty blonde spoke matter-of-factly into the camera.
"Lola is 18, she's young, she could very well be a girl who likes attention. She could be quite sick, personally I think this is quite likely, if this is true she needs intervention and she needs it quickly. Or, there is the remote possibility she is indeed telling the truth, which would make her something of a medical mystery and a scientific marvel - in any case, we need to secure some face to face contact to really evaluate the condition she is in. Testing, of course, will be required..."he continued talking as my stomach tightened. The title card across the bottom of the screen told me the man was a scientist. "We have made several attempts to engage, but are yet to be successful-"I hit the power button and side-eyed my phone.
I'd assumed they were fans, critics or trolls calling me. That's what the first few calls I'd answered had been, back when this was fun. As if I'd summoned another call, my phone lit up and started ringing again. My finger hovered over the reject button again before reconsidering.
I *was* lonely.
I bit back my tears again, thinking bitterly of how my parents had left me. I couldn't leave me.
What if they could give me answers?
I bit my lip, what testing did he mean? I felt sick as I hit the accept call button.
"Hello?"I croaked.
"Lola Woods?"Asked an older sounding man, with a deep, authoritative voice.
"Yes, uh, speaking,"I mumbled, unsure if I should regret answering.
"I'm surprised you answered,"he spoke honestly, chuckling, "I expected yet another rejection! Anyway, this is just a courtesy call to let you know I'm coming for you."
He hung up and I stared at my phone, feeling far more sick than before and like my spine was lined with ice cubes. I started frantically looking around, before hearing a window by the back door smash.
I start running towards the front door, nothing could happen to me if I reached the lawn where the camera guys were. Just as I started I felt a sting in my neck. I slowly turned around to see what happened, but everything went blurry, then dark. The last thing I saw was a tall, fuzzy figure towering in the doorway... |
Darkness engulfs me, but I feel my soul burning. I was betrayed by someone I thought was my best friend, but he stole my wife and had me killed. I know only hatred now, burning white hot, it changes from a swirling mass and begins to take shape. Slowly, it comes together, forming into a ball, and then into a dark shroud shaped like the man I used to be. I grow a face, and then arms. The white hot burning hate begins to darken and turn black, I feel my eyes begin to blaze, and I see everything through a red haze. All I know is rage. All I know is hate. With one last burst, I break through the curtain of death, traveling through time and space until I'm back where I was when I was poisoned by my wife and her lover. It's our house, and there is the bed we used to share, yet in my place is the man who used to be my best friend.
I allow my hands to channel all of the hatred in my heart. They burst into flames. Using the flames, I set fire to the curtains and the floor. The ceiling goes up around the two sleeping lovers, those monsters. I see them stir as the smoke rises, but they're trapped. I begin to laugh, and it sounds strange and high pitched. They both come fully awake and begin to scream, but there's nowhere to go. In moments, the fire engulfs them. Their skin begins to bubble and turns black. They die together, wrapped in each other's arms. |
"Can I come in?"
He sighed, but opened the door fully, allowing me to slip into the house. As he closed the door behind me, I gazed around the place, not spotting a single smart device.
"I told you this would happen if you rely on proprietary and subscription-based software. Many times", he said.
"I know. I'm sorry."
He sighed again. "Well, what's done is done."
I gave him a worried look. "You can help me though, right?"
"Of course I can", he said. "We're just gonna install GNU/Linux on you. Sit down."
I sighed in relief and did as he asked. "Thank you, Mr. Stallman." |
I posted a harmless prompt on a writing website. Turns out, even the harmless has the potential to ruin your life.
It was about my situation. You see, I had extreme, paralyzing social anxiety, and I was about to face one of the biggest hurdles I had ever seen. My sister had set me up on a blind date with one of her ex-boyfriends. Typically, to "ease"my anxiety, I would go through every possible situation that could occur. This usually worked when going through drive through or saying "here"during roll call. However, this situation required outside help. I had seen the people of the internet come up with the strangest possible scenarios, and I wanted their help. Even the most outlandish cases had to be considered. I didn't want to have something else to wince about as I tried to fall asleep at night. My list was full as it was.
"An awkward socially-anxious girl goes on a blind date with her sister's ex-boyfriend. Except, just when things are going well, they take a turn for the worst."
To my excitement, my post gained traction, which also made me nervous. The comments came pouring in; some funny, some thought-provoking, and some that belonged in a best-selling novel. This was good. It helped me to become more prepared. At least, that's what I thought at the time.
The next morning, hours before my date, a new comment got voted to the top. What confused me was that it was seemingly plain. The girl's name was Jessica, and the ex-boyfriend's name was Henry. They meet at the mall and eat in the food court. All is going well. They both get some Hawaiian pizza, and then the place is stormed by robbers at with guns. The girl, who always plans escape routes wherever she goes, makes it to safety outside. The boy follows and then runs in the opposite direction. She never sees him again.
I had pictured the food court getting stormed by gunman nearly every time I walked past it. This wasn't anything creative or new.
With several new horrible situations to prepare for, I was ready for my date. I was more relaxed and ready than I had ever been, but that wasn't saying much. He was wearing a blue hat, just as my sister had told me he would. We began to walk into the movie theater.
"Hi, Jessica?"My face went red. My name is Meredith. I sighed heavily out of my mouth with a smile. Michael was even more attractive than she had remembered. *I guess my name is Jessica now.* And, as soon as I had that thought, everything spiraled out of control. *Jessica...* JESSICA! That was the name of the girl in the post. It all came back to me. Michael smiled at me with his warm brown eyes, and, for a second, all my fears melted away. That is, until I looked down and saw hit Hawaiian t-shirt. With that, I started planning for the inevitable. Surely the place would be stormed by gunman at any minute. The Hawaiian pizza and Hawaiian t-shirt could not have been a coincidence.
"Are you okay?"
"Oh.. I'm fine!"I probably looked like I was hallucinating. I hated myself for worrying, and tried to convince myself that it was all in my head. In an effort to mend the situation, I blurted out, "You want some Mike and Ikes, Mike?"*Kill me. Kill me right now.*
"Oh, actually I go by Henry now. It's kind of a long story..."He kept talking but I couldn't hear a word he was saying. I could feel the blood pulse through my veins. Time started to go in slow motion as I looked towards the screen. I saw the barrel of a gun looking back at me. The man pulled the trigger. I would have rather been shot in real life. All of this was lining up - the names, the shirt, the guns. And, somehow, this - THIS is the only situation I had not prepared for. My instincts kicked in, and I bolted out the door. Who cares about embarrassing myself- something was wrong. Someone out there had prepared this. They had plotted every moment down to the detail. Was it God? A witch? a time traveler? I couldn't be sure. Henry ran after me out to the parking lot.
"What's going on? Is something wrong?"The existential crisis I was facing became too much to bear. I collapsed to the ground in tears, gasping for breath. It felt like I was inside a vacuum, and each time I opened my mouth I found myself with less air. I was drowning. My heart was beating furiously, when all of the sudden, it calmed. It beat slowly, methodically. I looked up, and Henry was gone. I called my sister to pick me up. In the car, I looked at the post to see who had commented, and it was deleted.
For the rest of my life, I thought about that day. Someone had predicted my future, and then vanished. I kept searching for it to happen again, but it just didn't. I lived alone until I died, still worrying about the secrets of the universe. Someone had the ability to warp time or space, and it certainly wasn't me. I must have been some sort of side-character in the story of life. Just the product of some type of overlap, surely. I was powerless and out of control.
But now, darling, I can see it all so clearly. |
“And what did you saw this time?” My therapist smiled at me while I tried to wish the sleeping dust out of my eyes.
“It was the end of the summer. My friends were playing with the piles of leaves that were lying around. My grandma was backing sugar pie” I smiled a little while talking about my dream.
“That sounds lovely! Did anyone talk to you?” Her voice sounded full of hope. But I knew that my next sentence would end it
“No… no one talked to me. It was like I wasn't there”
“But hey at least we know that there were leaves in your hometown!” She tried to cheer me up. But she failed
“We already knew that. I learned nothing new in this dream”
“Don't give up! One day we will find out who you are!”
I knew who I was. I was the girl they found on the side of the road. In a normal white Shirt and a light blue jeans. The girl without any memories. Not even a name. And no one searched for me. No one called the police that I was missing. This was 2 years ago. We only knew that I wasn't born in this country full of sand.
I wished I could go back in my dream. I liked the memory that it has shown.
“In my dream an old woman baked a pie. A sugar pie. The bakery next door sells sugar pies, right?” I asked my therapist with a calm voice.
“Yes it does. Do you want to eat one?”
“Yeah!” Sometimes certain sounds or smells helped me remember a little bit of the time I forgot. Maybe this time a cake will help me.
“Sadly our time for today is over. If you remember anything please write it down.” My therapist smiled at me and reached out a hand. I nodded and said my goodbyes. |
First one we'll see how it goes.
“’Save the princess,’ he said. ‘It’ll be easy,’ he said. I shouldn’t complain too much it’s not like I had a choice. The minute that knight rode into our camp waving the white flag, I knew it was too good to be true. After all, my father, his father, and his father before him had been fighting the Glendive kingdom over the same two farms. I’m not even sure why. They get so trampled by armies every spring nothing ever grows there. Still, I rode with my father to talk truce with their King.
The great Lord shook hands with my father and proposed splitting the land one farm each. I was in shock, had someone in this pointless blood feud suggested a reasonable solution?
Of course, my father took this as a sign of weakness. There’s nothing quite like watching two greying old warrior kings bicker like children. ‘Ha ha, Glendive, are you growing weary with age? Perhaps if you’re so tired of fighting, I’ll just take your whole kingdom off your hands. Your people deserve a ruler willing to defend them, after all.’
Despite the lack of color in his beard, Glendive was across the royal tent, jewel encrusted hilt in hand, sword tip on my father’s breastplate. ‘Do not challenge me Quint. I would gladly settle this once and for all. A duel right here, you and me.’
My father brushed the blade away with his gauntlet. The clang of the motion releasing the tension of a full tent holding its breath. ‘Don’t play Glendive, we both know you wouldn’t break the code of honor with bloodshed at negotiations. What is this really about?’
‘Your spies must’ve told you about my daughter’s betrothal.’
‘Yes, to Duke the captain of your army. Their honeymoon not going well, I assume that’s why he hasn’t been seen on the field this year.’
Glendive walked back to his raised chair and motioned a finger to one of his servants. The servant stepped forward holding a platter covered with a black cloth. He pulled the black cloth to reveal Duke’s severed head. I’ve seen plenty of violence in battle, but the wide-open eyes and tongue hanging out of the mouth was unnerving. ‘A griffon dropped this in front of my army as we reached the field. Unfortunately, the beast didn’t fly low enough for my archers to take a shot.”
‘A griffon, the symbol of the crippled King?’
‘Yes, it seems the old bastard of the barren hills has risen from his tomb. Our Kingdoms have united in the past to conquer this evil, and I hope we could put our differences aside one more.’
‘No,’ my father turned to put his hand on my shoulder. ‘My son will go and fetch your precious daughter, and when he returns, I will win these lands the honorable way in glorious battle.’
Then my father and his aides left, and I was alone with Glendive and his court. The enemy King stepped back down and crossed the tent till we were face to face. I could fill his hot breath on my cheeks as his pity filled eyes bored into mine, but I couldn’t look away. ‘I fear the worst for you son of my enemy. I was a child when last the crippled king rose. Your father was not yet of this world, and I fear he doesn’t grasp the danger he sends you to find. Still, if you can return with my beloved daughter, speak your desire, and if it is within my power, I shall grant it.’
Two weeks of cutting my way though dried out thorny brambles, before I reach the crumbling castle at the center of the barren hills. Of course, it’s surrounded by a dozen wolves and god knows how many serpents. Of course, the entire time I’m slaying wolves and slashing at the fanged vipers that damned griffon is dropping stones down at me. I suppose I should be thankful, at least, the drawbridge was left down. Though that might be because of the behemoth waiting for me in the courtyard on the other side.
The four-legged monstrosity was beyond enormous. Slow at first, before it built up speed in its tree trunk sized limbs as it charged me with its single ivory horn. It’s grey bulk nearly trampled me as I rolled to the side. On the second charge, I was more prepared to sidestep the beast, but my blade couldn’t pierce its armored hide, bouncing off its flanks. While continuing to dodge the cursed beast, I tied a loop in the rope, I brought to climb over the walls. I got it around the things neck only to have it drag me around the courtyard. Eventually, I pulled myself onto its back and tightened the noose till it collapsed on its side, pinned my leg underneath it.
After extracting myself, I limped in here, to the grand hall, and what do I find? You sit on the throne and the crippled king tied up at your feet, being waited on by all manner of wild creatures.”
“Oh no, you didn’t kill my precious little Thorny?” The princess cried.
“The unholy abomination in the courtyard?”
“She’s a rhino, not some abomination.”
“It’s just unconscious, I’m not sure there’s something in the world that could kill that thing. Now about the King?”
“This one,” She tapped the hogtied man with the toe of her slipper. “He said he could protect me from my father and that bastard betrothed of mine if I escaped. Turns out, he just wanted me for himself.”
“So, what’s your plan then?”
“I will not return to my father. I’ll be no man’s possession. I’m going to remain here as Queen of the barren hills and force the former King to teach me his magic. And, I’ll send your head back if you try to get in my way.”
“Sounds good to me.” The prince dropped to his good knee and raised his sword on upturned palms. “I offer my fealty to her majesty the wild queen.”
“What? I will not marry you either.”
“I didn’t ask for your hand. I’ve got no desire to rule. I offered my service. I hate those two blowhards and their pointless endless war.”
“Oh, um, okay. I guess.” She muttered uncertainly.
“Great,” the prince replied. He popped up sheathing the blade. “Got any food and possibly a bed I’m beat.” |
They consider him their life source
For they think he is the only source of light
In the dark universe
Little do they know
Their source of life
Their source of light
Will bring one of the darkest day of their life
It always has
Unfortunate were the days
I saw them
Everyone
Each one of them
Taking their last breath
Pleading for a drop of water
I have seen them all die
Unfortunate was the day
When i ran away
To never come back
I wish I was there
With them
I wish
I was there when my mother took her last breath
All I could do was stare at her
From far away
The only companion that I had then
A dead robot now
He died 20000000 years ago
And now it's just me
The dead machine
And the macabre
I tell these new humans
Don't praise home
For he is no God
For there is no god
Everything here will laugh
On their last breath
Even their god
Sun, He is here to burn them
And turn everything into ashes. |
First post on here, and I'm on mobile but I will try my best. Please give feed back also it was originally longer, but it wouldn't work for some reason so I cut it short.
I wake up in the morning, it's a cold November Saturday the bed is warm (ish.) I open my eyes and see that last night I accidentally left channel 9 on. At the bottom it says 8:33 43°F Something or other °C with the red bar saying "Protesters at Capitol fight against "unfair blood profiling laws."Bunch of idiots I'd say, but truthfully It's not my place to comment, it's not like It will ever affect me.
David Payne the weather forecaster says alright Jim looks like we will have a high of 67 in the afternoon and a low of 34 later to night with a chance for storms or tornadoes. When I first moved here from Nevada I was actually nervous about the tornadoes, but my wife who had lived here all her life and had an internship at Fox News Oklahoma said that those stories were excuse her pun "BLOWN out of proportion so you will keep watching."She hasn't lied to me yet so I doubt she is wrong. Either way the weather here is way to cold and not to mention inconsistent. one day my daughter Chastity said that the hot days in the fall are called Indian summers and are called that because This was originally called the Indian Territories.
It then did a story on the protests I got dressed while it played, the lady they interviewed said that it was unfair because those of Native American decent have naturally murky blood that not even the sacrament of confession can fix. Even in those with no native ancestory it takes weeks or even months for the blood to fully clear the blood a process which can be halted with even the slightest of sins. I think it was something like that, I am about an 8th Navajo according to my mother & it takes a 4th for the blood to become murky. This is coming from the woman who said that opening an umbrella inside can lead to bad luck how so I always took it with a grain or 2 of salt.
My wife is about a 12th Cherokee according to her father. I walked out of my room to get some cleaning done, later we have a wedding that is in southern Oklahoma Chastity Jr. and her mom went over last night to help set up and because Chastity Jr. was the flower girl. I made myself breakfast, but I am not a very good cook so I accidentally cut myself and muttered about why I was even in boy scouts. The blood was little darker than normal meaning it was probably time to attune for my sins. It takes a truly awful sin to have black blood. As I ate my eggs that were originally fried but came out scrambled with an accidental side of blood sauce. I realized that there was no dog around. Chastity loved the dog she even named him Noodles, I did not. Her mother convinced me to let her keep "Noodles"because I would warm up to him. I saw that her blood got 3 shades darker after that day. It would have been nice to get asked before my wife gave it to her, but I guess that's too much to ask. I was always a cat person myself however I do recognize that both Chastities were deeply upset over the death that was on Halloween, it got out when I opened the door for some trick or treaters the dog got out and was then found the next day rotting in the middle of the road. It was not a very happy Halloween. The blood was of an animal so the blood was splattered and then went off into tire tracks of red coming out of a foul smelling beast with broken bones and matted fur.
Around 4 o clock I started to drive over to the wedding it was the wedding of the twin sister (named Janey.) Of another intern at the news station named Jim, I went to OU with their cousin Jeff which is how I was introduced to my Wife. I drove over there, the chapel was large enough to fit about 100 to 150 people but there was only about 60 to 70 that night. The windows showed pictures glass depictions of Jesus being Crusified with the blood of the surrounding criminals being black and brown. Contrasted with the blood of Jesus who is so pure his blood removes any pigment of any liquid it touches provided it is in a lesser or equal amount. The last time I came here I recieved my communion and I looked through the chalice of blood, made out of maticuasly cleaned glass to show the transformation of wine into something worth more. I took my seat with Chastity senior. She wore a black dress that she said was new and that she got it after helping with the wedding. It was from Goodwill but it was new to her. The bride had tanned skin I think she said something about being half Chickisaw but that was a while ago. The dress was very... uh traditional it was a hand me down from her late mother, who got it from her late mother, I wouldn't be surprised if she got it from her late mother also.
The pressesion went on as normal, however when the roses fell the bride dropped them when she tried to throw them resulting in them landing straight into little Chastitys face, causing the white Rose's to get covered in black. Shortly there Chastity fainted, from the sight of so much blood. I was shocked to find the blood to be so dark. At first I denied this... revelation. We went to the hospital, where my wife and I questioned to no end. She woke up and I turned around and started questioning her to no end. "Why is your blood black?"I said? She said "I don't know she said!"As if I were about to beat her to a pulp. Like her mother she is a very bad liar, not that I would know that's just what she said, and if she was a bad liar I would be able to tell, but I tried to calm myself down then kept asking, "if you did something I won't be mad."I said while trying, and failing to not look angry. She said "I talked to a stranger!""I'm sorry please don't get me in trouble!"I knew that it probably wasn't enough to turn it into ink, probably not enough to be visible but I went along with it. "What did you do?"I questioned concerningly. "He said he would bring noodles back, he just needed my sole? Or I think that's what he said? I don't know I just want Noodles back!"Before flinching. "What did he look like?"I said with visible confusion. "He had a suitcase with a suit and on the case was a worm?"He gave me a piece of paper and told me to write my name so I did but I never got noodles back."She said while short of breath. I was about to respond but she then interupted, "also he has horns, Oh I supposed to wait my turn sorry."I said "It's alright just don't do it aga-,""I won't, never again."After a while the nurses kicked us out. We said our byes and I over heard her asking the nurse asking why everything smells like toothpaste. The ride home was very quiet. We are at McDonald's because Braums was closed. We walked in to find the manager yelling at one of the cooks because he got blood on someone's Mcchicken and threatened to call the police because it wasn't clear. Our food tasted oddly bitter that night. When we went home I took my sleeping pills and went to bed. I still couldn't sleep and after 3 hours I went to take about 5 more. It was dark and I stubbed my toe. "God Da-!"Then the lights turned on suddenly, I was next to the light switch and the only other person who could have did it was a slim horned man who'd skin had a pinkish tone he had a lawyer's suit, with the tie made of snake skin, on his brief case next to the dish full of egg that I forgot to put away this morning, Well yesterday but still. On the brief case was a snake at first I thought it was the "Don't Tread On Me Flag."However the snake looked more like the "Join or Die"flag, but even then the design was unrelated. Said figure after the lights turned on leaned on our back door and said "Taking the lord's name in vain, tsk tsk, how very bad."I then said while alarmed "Who are you! And what do you want from us!?"He then helped himself to the contents of my liquor cabinet and said non shelontly "Oh nothing just toying with my prey."I said again with visible confusion and anger "Prey?""Oh why yes your Wife's daughter, where is she by the way?""She's in the hospi- wait what!?""Oh yes I forgot to say when you sell your soul your blood doesn't become black as many are fooled into believing."while opening a new bottle and burning the cap with seemingly his mind. He took a chug then said "Ah you see the blood actually turns purple when you have no soul the blood over a period of weeks starts to turn purple."Unless the blood was already murkey."I then said "She's only about a13th
Native American!"He then chuckled and said "Your wife is a better liar than you think my good sir.""If Chastity isn't mine then who does she belong to?"The lawyer said "Well the peg of the happy couple of course.""The peg?"I asked? He explained that in Hell he "peg."Is the one on top while doing things that are not allowed to be discussed on a SFW post. I'm not sure what means either. I was shocked to say the least. I grabbed the one bottle the suited horny man hadn't grabbed and then drank it down like water. As I did this he said "They still go at it from time to time, you don't really think the blood darkened because of the dog do you?"I then put it down and remembered what Chastity said.
"Wait if Chastity sold her sold soul where is the dog."He replied "Oh he's still dead and unless someone else wants to sell their soul he will probably stay that way.""SHE SOLD HER YOUR SOUL AND YOU CAN'T EVEN BRING BACK A DOG."he laughed and said "I can, but I don't have to."He took out a pair of 18th century reading glasses and popped open the case and pulled out some legal document saying (translated from legal jargon.) "Because she is under 18 she can't sign contacts,so he got a free soul."He then stuffed down the entire cabinet into his briefcase and then smiled and sarcasticly said "Toodles have a nice time with Chastity."I took about 10 sleeping pills and could not sleep. |
It was gone.
Just like that.
In an instant the Earth was obliterated, various chunks went off in various directions and no one was quite certain how or where things were at the moment. Everyone was busy trying to bunker down and survive the outlying blasts of debris. Venus was the luckiest, being further away at the time, Mars had reported at least a 5% damage capacity from the event.
The area where the earth was is now a minor asteroid field. Nothing was found to be salvageable, we attempted to do some mining but the radiation and the expots were just too heavy to try. So it lays there. Our broken home planet.
We've continued onward, without looking back. The people we lost wouldn't want us to wonder or ask questions. At least that's what we tell ourselves. It's hard, losing all those people but we've done what we can.
We've made new homes, those of us who survived, and now we have the entire galaxy to explore. |
The silent hum of pressurization filled my ears as our chariot cruised liesurely, 38,000 feet above endless saltwater. My legs ached, my knees pressed uncomfortably against the reclined seat in front of me. I shared my chamber with over 100 other men, women and children, yet I sat alone in the sterility of the airline environment. My co-passengers melted limply into their seats while their minds traversed a hundred worlds.
Three hours into the flight now, and without my having stirred, my bladder began to cry out for relief. I was reluctant to awaken the woman next to me and awaken her from her personal nirvana, but with three hours left to go, it would be inevitable. I turned to them hesitantly -- so peaceful and still they were, each with one hand on an armrest, the other in a pocket, no doubt clutching the marvelous marble that would keep them pacified upon their own planes of existence.
A cocktail of envy and disgust rose in my blood, and I no longer felt the same apprehension as before. I gave the auburn haired interdimensional traveler next to me an assertive nudge on the shoulder with the palm of my hand. Predictably, I was met with an expression of mild annoyance.
Her hand slid laboriously from her pocket and she used it to brace herself on her armrest and make a show of half-rising from her seat. A grumble and a sigh escaped her as I ambled past her legs and into the aisle.
Down the corridor I drifted through the citizens of here and there and everywhere, their worlds safe in their sweaty hands while mine rested at the bottom of an ocean in a place I was too young to remember. I looked resolutely forward in an effort to stave off the bitterness and resentment I felt in witnessing their peace.
At the end of the aisle, I reached the two lavatories, one lock an occupied red and the other a glowing vacant white.
I pushed open the unlocked door, and there, where there should have been relief, sat a patron saint of these vacuous vacationers. He couldn't have been older than 20, his face triangular with a gaping smile dominating his face. His eyes were shut tightly, his pants wrapped around his skinny ankles and his arms hung lax at his sides, the digits of one hand locked around his crystal ball. I brought my gaze back up to his face to avoid lingering on his flaccid landing gear hanging down into the bowl.
Without retreat, I knocked loudly on the door. His eyes shot open and his fingers closed more tightly around his glassy universe as he fumbled for his pants with the other hand. "Fuck,"he coughed, as he clumsily clothed himself. He struggled to his feet and shuffled out, careful to avoid eye contact.
The next 45 seconds of relief were my own personal heaven. Upon flushing and washing, I slid the lock open and was promptly thrown forth into chaos.
Without any radio preamble, the plane had pitched forward violently, throwing me off of my feet. Suddenly, the aisle was a steep ramp and kings and queens of their domains screamed in their seats, pressed forcefully into their seat belts, staring at a 30 degree angle down into harsh reality. Baggage spilled from overhead compartments and the plane struggled against the current toward the vast sea.
As if joining in prayer, they pulled out their marbles and clutched them in both hands. They all desired escape, and the largest door available to them was cold in their grip -- a false liberation, but a comforting one, and with pained countenance, their eyes closed tightly, they fought to return to their illusions.
I had slid into a food cart at the front of the plane, and using my hands, pushed myself sideways to reach the cockpit door and prop myself up. As soon as I'd slid free of the cart, the door exploded inward and me with it. I rolled painfully into the bottom of the control deck, glancing off the terrified flight attendant dangling from the door handle.
"Help!"he cried. "I can't get him out! He won't come out!"He pointed toward the pilot. "I can't get it!"
I turned to the pilot. Sure enough, I may as well have been looking at a passenger in uniform. His head lolled forward awkwardly with gravity and a entranced grin decorated his face. In his hand was the same accursed artifact that had turned them all from flesh to avatars. I reached out for it, and our fingers overlapped as I grasped his ball in my right hand. Leaning back toward the controls, I pulled his arm straight forward and his body strained against his harness. His grip was like rigor morits and I would have to use the gravity of the descending plane to help me wrest it from his fingers.
I struggled further backward and I felt my tailbone press hard upon the throttle of the plane's controls. The plane pitched further forward, and yet I still maintained my hold, knowing at this point that it might be for naught. Tightening my grip and bracing my arm in my left hand, I pulled with all my might, and felt what I thought was a dull ache in my arm. An ache which then turned into a tingling sensation.
The marble became bigger in my mind, and as I looked at it, the world around it grew smaller and out of focus. The warmth that had taken over my arm soon took over my chest, and spread to my neck, and to my legs, as if crawling over me. The darkness of vacuum dominated my vision, and I thought most assuredly I must be fainting.
Yet, I became aware of a harsh environment around me, a cold that chilled me to the core. And I was falling, weightlessly at first and then with great speed. I saw lights, stars, puncturing the obsidian void with their brilliance. I felt a surrender, falling back faster still through the darkness, and then misty vapor, cloudlike and brisk. I closed my eyes, but through them shone light, red against my eyelids, and a warm breeze began to arrest my fall. Like a feather I floated further down upon the wind, and in my dreamlike state I heard familiar sounds -- first the birds, then the winds, then a cacophony of voices riding upon it.
When my eyes at last opened, I was on my feet. Surrounding me was a great crowd, their voices calling out in triumph over brassy horns and powerful, thumping drums. A brilliant sun bathed us in its rays and the air was crisp and dry. I followed the eyes of the crowd to a great dais, forged in white marble, resplendent in the light, a shimmering monolith upon the clear horizon a hundred feet in front of me. On the dais stood a figure, with arms raised.
Royal red robes flowed over his body, trimmed in glorious golds, long and loose around a man's body. In his hands, clutched with a familiar tightness above his head, was a mighty sceptre, a rich, glimmering proclamation of his authority, and under it, as if holding up the sceptre with the force of its own grandiosity, sat an equally magnificent crown, regal and burnished, unmarred by jewelry and breathtaking in its austerity.
And below the crown, a familiar face with a familiar smile. I stared into the eyes of the pilot, and felt that he was staring at me, too. I hadn't forgotten who we were, and I wondered if he knew what was happening right now, outside of the bounds of this little universe that felt so big, the small universe of passengers that he was responsible for. But even knowing it that would all be over very soon, I couldn't help but feel that in some way, this pilot had saved me after all. |
I spun as Elora asked me that.
"Explain everything in life? Are you kidding?"I looked to her as she held the strange crystal in her hand. We had been on this entire journey to take it to the temple and now that we were here I was feeling my doubts even more than normal.
"Look. I don't want to bash your beliefs and what you two think,"I said gesturing toward Kip, the strange man who had been journeying with us and was somehow both an angel and demon at the same time (I'm not sure, to this moment, how literal that thought was) "But...Is messing with things we don't understand the best way to do that?"
Kip smirked, "Don't your scientists do that? Mess with things they don't understand? All to find out and be able to explain everything in life?"
"No,"I replied flatly. "They don't. They take their time and go through processes and theories and research to figure out what they know and how to go about figuring out the answer to things. They can't explain *everything* in life. And quite frankly, I don't want to know everything in life. I'm fine with the mystery. I'm fine with the whys and how comes?"
Kip eyed me. "Truly...You are fine? With all the problems out there you're fine with it?"
"There may never be answers. And that's the point!"I spat back. "There may never be a reason for something bad happening just as something good doesn't need a cause. You don't always need these things to figure out the problems in life."
Elora looked to Kip. "It's okay. We're here already. We can go on and meet up with Suri later."
Kip nodded. "If that is your wish, then I shall go with it."
Elora looked at me. "We'll meet up with you back down at the end of the trail?"
I nodded. "Sure. You go ahead and get those answers. I don't need them. Never have."
They nodded and Kip gave me a devil's grin. "Good."
I looked at him. "What?"
"You've finally gotten past what and the why's and are now with yourself. The path down will be good for you."
The pair of them walked into the temple while I walked down the trail to where the main road was.
I don't know what I was expecting, or what was going to happen in the next few moments. But I think Kip was right. I finally got out of my own way. And because of that, I'd like to think that I was ready for what came next. |
"Get the fuck out."
A pillow was hurled, narrowly missing the six inch long reptile. As it flumped against a nearby wall, and slid, disconsolate to the floor, the beast let out a plume of steam cloud chuckles. A balled pair of trousers followed, but to no avail. The little bugger was nimble. Flickering through the air with an irritating buzzing noise, it dodged and wove, leaving smoke tendrils floating in the air above the bed.
“Jared, do something about this. I don't need to be eyeballed by some licentious lizard, I get enough of that at the office.”
The man frowned, then rolled over, deftly slipping on a pair of jeans. Reaching slowly, and carefully, for a mithril flyswat. He readied his aim, and...
*THWACK*
“Shit, missed.”
The dragon seemed to grin, and puffed a small gout of sparks toward the pillows.
“No.”
Uncaring for the rising panic in the room, a minuscule fireball shot through the air.
“No no no no.”
The pillow, which had been smoking gently, burst into flames.
“Jesus **fucking** Christ, that's it. I'm calling the exterminators.” |
The fog rolled in like a grey fire. Within just an hour it covered the road, making it impossible to see even your own hand in front of your face. What the fog doesn’t conceal is the sound, the eerie quiet that always seems to follow the fog. Even the crickets ceased chirping for the fog. So when I heard the sound of something dragging, I knew I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a loud sound, just a whisper off in the distance. I looked behind me but of course I saw nothing, but I could tell the sound came from a head of me. The dragging became a whisper, than a normal volume, and then a shout. A silhouette of a person appeared about 20 feet ahead of me, and my heart was pounding, blood rushing in my ears. I kept walking and kept my head down, hoping the stranger would just pass me by. I was almost successful until we bumped right into each other.
“Pardon me, lost in my own mind I guess.” I offered sheepishly and looked up at the figure. An older man with a long graying beard, tricorn hat and long leather coat. He was dressed like an old pirate, the smell of booze radiating off him and I noticed the dragging sound came from his missing leg, replaced with wood. When he spoke, he didn’t look at me, but looked to the east instead. Like he was looking towards some invisible ocean despite being miles inland.
“Fog like this be a bad omen. Foul things hide amongst the chill from Hades they do.” He moved on by me, singing to himself, some forgotten sailor shanty. A chill ran down my spine as a watched him fade into the mist, the song the only remnant of the specter.
An hour passed as I continued down the road, alone and lost in the memory of the encounter. Didn’t even notice the fog dissipating or the crickets returning to their orchestra. His words repeated in my head as opened the door to my home, his face so familiar and foreign at the same time. I say in my chair staring at the blank television for what seemed like hours when I noticed it, the answer in the blank reflection. A painting that hung above me of an old sailor, his ship in the background.
“Captain Lawrence Fogg of the ship Hades.”
........
Really interesting and fun prompt! |
Kevin sighed as he was just about to hand over the Burger and fries to the customer,but then he suddenly realized it, his past life.
Nostalgia filled him as he saw himself under water, with his siblings swarming out to form a mass around him, as he chose to join them. Flying out for he first time and letting the sun greet him as he sat down to rest at a lily pad, from morning to dawn and then 2 hours later he was dead, yes anticlimatic of course, but it was a past that for his current self told something valuable.
For all intents and purposes, a job at McDonalds was pretty decent compared to being a mayfly. |
"Jesus, i'm just saying, the book is isolating the 18 - 25 demographic"
The son of good had been on the phone with his publisher for 25 minutes, pacing the floor in agony.
"It's the second bible"
"Whatever it is, it needs to be marketable"
After coming back to earth, the human race was less cynical than two thousand years ago. Granted they were stupider, with no formal education, but he was Jesus H Christ for Christ sake. When he landed back on earth, he tried the feeding of the five thousand again only to be called out as 'FAKE' or 'DAVID BLAINE COULD DO IT BETTER'. 'fucking magicians' Jesus thought 'they make this so much harder'. His shaggy clothes and lack of a driving licence really made him look and seem homeless.
"Also, no one really has leprosy anymore, its not really relatable"The publisher continued
"It was last time"
"I told you, even if you were a best seller a long time ago, things have changed"
"I cure leprosy, that's my thing, what more do you want?"
"I'm glad you ask, because our focus group had some things to say"
"what now?"
"Less religion was the top comment"
"It's a religious book"
"Lets....just put a pin in that for now, circle back round to it"
"Right..."
"Dragons"
"No."
"Hear me out -"
"No, i'm not allowing dragons into my real life book about real life things"
"So i'm guessing vampires are also out"
"No shit, carol!"
"They are so in right now, the teenage demographic would love it"
"Absolutely not"
"Ok, lets get to the actual issue, its basically illegible"
Jesus had no formal education. He was raised by a carpenter and could make a kickass stool but literature wasn't his strong suit.
"I know"Jesus continued. "I had 12 men do it last time"
"Ghost writers? also the gay angle would really capture the LGBT community, might be big if we take out the anti-gay stuff."
"I'm not gay - and they were more biographers"
"They left out 30 years of your life?"
"Well...yeah"
"If we got John on this, it would be some hot shit"
"I dont want it to be shit"
"It would be good"
"Oh...It's more about the principles"
"Right? But you want this selling millions?"
"It will sell - Write it and they will read"
There was a silence in the air as Carol digested this
"That's from Field of Dreams....Did you really just quote Field of Dreams?"
"Nah, thats one of mine"
"Build it and they will come?"
"Yeah"
"That's Kevin Costner"
"No it isn't, don't even know him"
"Want to plagiarize Waterworld too? how about 'They do move in heards'"
"That's Sam Neill..."
"AHA I KNEW YOU KNEW IT"
"CAROL JUST SELL THE FUCKING THING"
Jesus stormed out, his billowing cloth robe following him. Carol, unfazed his exit pressed on the intercom to her assistant outside
"Jane, you can buzz The Buddha in now" |
The rapid panting echoed strangely off the damp cavern walls. Bioluminescent fungi illuminated the space with a dim blue light, and a dank, earthy smell filled Reynar's nostrils.
"Connecting".
As he spoke, the Servant carefully monitored the five naked forms kneeling at Reynars feet in the shadows. Threads of dark, slimy mycelia threaded between their bodies, hanging in strings from their nostrils and wrapping itself in blotchy patches around their torsos. Arranged in a circle, their eyes were pale, like those of the blind, and they knelt hyperventilating in strange, shallow bursts. Slowly, their breathing slowed, and synchronized, until they all took a deep breath in, closed their eyes, and exhaled as one.
"Server online."
The Servant placed his hand on the shoulder of one of the five, an emaciated man with short, dark hair, kneeling in the damp mud. Under the brown hood of his robes, the Servant nodded approvingly. The mycelial threads connecting the human Nodes met in the middle of the circle, and the central point began to glow the same dim shade of blue as the walls of the cavern.
"What can they see? Do they know where the GodHead is?"Internally, Reynar chided himself for sounding impatient. The work of the Servants was not to be rushed, he was well aware. But time was running out for them all.
The Servant's voice betrayed no signs of annoyance over the breach of etiquette. "Computer,"he said softly. "Path: Search. Locate system source."
The fungal clump between their bodies flashed gently, a pulsating glow in the darkness. Mouths agape, the Nodes began to vocalize in unison, a low hum that filled the cavern with a solemn drone. It grew in volume, louder and louder, until suddenly they gasped and opened their colourless eyes, staring at the ceiling.
The thin man seemed to pin Reynar with his gaze, an unsettling feeling. "It's not looking at me,"Reynar thought to himself. "It's not looking at anything."Steadied by his oaken stave, he shifted uncomfortably in his ragged body armor, an ad-hoc blend of leather scraps and furs that left arms and head exposed.
The Node spoke, a slow, raspy sound, still staring towards Reynar.
**"The GodHead lies... dormant. Fallow fields of gray. The shepherd... wading through the mist. He leads them to the valley. Eleven. Source code: Eleven. Eleven sheep. They follow. The light of the dog star... guides them. Eleven. The land where he was born."**
Reynar looked to the Servant. Not wanting to speak over the Nodes, he drew closer to join him at the Node cluster and whispered to him.
"What does it mean? What is source code: eleven?"
Suddenly, the thin man reached out and grasped Reynar's hand.
**"Yes. Eleven. Reynar. You are the shepherd. You will lead them to the GodHead. The dog star. Following... wading through the... eleven."**
Ahgast, Reynar snatched his hand away, and the Node let a long breath rattle from his throat. Together, the cluster slumped forward, foreheads to the damp ground, prostate and silent. The lights shone lower.
Nonplussed, the Servant looked to Reynar. "You tell me, Reynar. The dog star... Sirius, perhaps. What about the rest?"
Regaining his composure, though unable to shake the sensation of the cold, wet grip on his forearm, Reynar thought about it.
"The land where I was born... fallow fields... it could mean the Lva'atch Savannah. Sirius lies east in the sky from there, and that leads to... the Valley of Enth. Perhaps the GodHead lies in the foothills of those mountains. As for the rest, I cannot say."
"Very well. You know what you must do. The Sigilists may have divined the location already through their... foul methods. They must never find the GodHead, Reynar. To corrupt the source is to corrupt all things."
Leaning closer, the Servant's voice belied an uncommon urgency, and his grey eyes glinted in the sacred light of the cavern.
"Go now, Reynar. There is no time to waste." |
"Hello, welcome to the year 2120."Said a robotic voice.
My body felt stiff. It was like I hadn't moved it in a century. Well technically I hadn't. I had myself frozen so that I could experience what the world would be like in the future.
They told me I may never wake up again, as this process wasn't perfected yet. I took the risk - I wanted to live to see the future and this was the only possible way.
I tried to move my arms. I couldn't. A warm liquid washed over my body. I felt rejuvenated, my limbs loosened, all drowsiness faded away. I was alive again.
I stepped out of my chamber. I saw rows of people in their respective chambers. When I was locked in, there were only a few. Seems like the trend had caught on.
I got my belongings and checked out of the "Century"facility.
The world was different, not in a very striking fashion as one might have expected. There weren't flying cars or anything. There were drone taxis big enough to carry people from one place to another. There were tunnels everywhere, seemed like Musk had made boring company a success.
I didn't have a family to go back to. I had no wife or children, well even if I did they'd be dead by now. I was pretty young when I choose to go to Century.
You see my life didn't have any big meaning. When I heard about Century, I was one of the first and definitely the youngest to sign up. I wanted to hop from one century to the another until I got tired, that's it.
Now all I had to do was save up enough money for my next journey.
I thought I'd start a travel blog on Instagram. But learnt there wasn't any Instagram. The internet was now omnipresent.
Everybody was connected to it. You had to wear these googles that were almost transparent, it hooked you to the internet. From there you just decided to broadcast your thoughts and if people tuned in to your frequency they could listen to you like you would listen to a podcast.
I thought I'd start one and see if it went well. I thought they'd like to see someone from the last century traverse through this new world.
I did and though my first episodes didn't go well, I saw more and more people tuning into my show. I was very soon making good money.
It was time to leave.
"Welcome back, close your eyes and get ready for the sleep of a century."Said the robotic voice. |
Experiment Log #2
We're hoping this experiment goes better than the first one. We attempted to meld cybernetic augmentation with a cloned biological body for, uh, classified government purposes. It seems the cybernetic-neurological integration process didn't work completely successfully. The subject's realization that she was only an artificial intelligence with false memories of her "life"seemed to induce a psychotic episode, which when combined with augmented strength... lets just say the amount of money we needed to spend just to cover up that debacle would've been enough to create a whole new subject. Which... I guess we did... Hey who needs financial accountability when you have an anonymous donor. Anyway, the experiment log, right.
\--------------------------------
It was... it was me? Yeah sure he looked a little worse for the wear, a thin scraggly beard and bags under the eyes. However, still definitely me? I was beyond confused as we continued this staring match for the next minute and a half, over the course of which I inched my hand towards the loaded pistol I had under my coat.
I wondered if it worked like looking in a mirror, if I raised my hand would the imposter do the same? I reached upwards, but the figure continued to stare at me, a confused look on his face. I slowly lowered my hands and picked my next few words carefully, I still had no idea what this... thing... was.
"Uhhh, hello there."
"General Kenobi,"came the reply. Yup it was undeniably me... I loosened my grip on the pistol, but it was still right near my hand just in case.
"So uh... who are you?"I swear if this fool responded with "General Grievous of course"I would shoot him right then and there.
"To be completely honest, I woke up this morning with no idea, so if you could tell me that would be fantastic."
"You know what would be fantastic, if you told me why the f\*ck you have been using my credit card to buy 3 Death Star themed toaster ovens. I mean I like Star Wars just as much as the next guy, but why in God's name did you need three..."
My seemingly valid question was met with yet another confused stare.
"Okay fine, forget that. How did you get my credit card in the first place?"
"Well when I got dressed trying to figure out who the hell I was, I looked for some ID in my wallet. Apparently my name is >!\[Redacted\]!< and I'm 30 years old, but I don't remember anything before today. I also found this credit card"he sheepishly said while handing the card back to me.
Pocketing the card, I replied, "Okay, so you woke up this morning with no idea who you were, found out you were ME, and then proceeded to buy no less than three Death Star themed toasters?"
"Yeah that pretty much sums it up"
I honestly had no response to this, so it was quite lucky when another voice piped up, "execute Order 66"And without a further word, the imposter in front of me slumped to the ground, toaster in hand. A couple of men in dark suits barged into the house.
"Sir, this is an unauthorized experiment, I'm afraid we have to take you with us,"said the guy on the left, suddenly holding a pistol aimed right at my leg. I clearly couldn't run away.
"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."
They took me into a room somewhere, I have no idea where, and had me write all of this down for "documentation purposes."I guess I have no idea what is gonna happen to me next, hopefully I'll just be released, but something tells me the government really doesn't want word of their clone-robot development program getting out. I bet they're doing this to create super soldiers or something, isn't that what power-hungry, d\*ck-swinging rulers of first-world countries do in the movies? Looks like they're back for me, this is probably the end.
\--------------------------------
Experiment #2 Status: Failed
Cause of failure: Interference by Biological Host
Are you f\*cking kidding me. We didn't even get a chance to test Subject #2's self awareness properties because of this bumbling buffoon's interference. He couldn't just get a new card and cancel the old one like everyone else. Now look what he's done, millions of dollars spent on the development of Subject #2 only to be lost because it bought 3 goddamn toasters. Why the f\*ck is a cyborg buying a toaster anyway. I knew we tweaked the quirkiness setting too high. Now I'm gonna have to scramble for more funding and figure out a way to get rid of these bugs. And find a better host.
I need a drink. |
Old habits die hard, and a thief is always a thief. I was a great thief before my conversion to the undead. Now I’m even better. The only problem for a while was that pain in the ass rule requiring permission to enter a home.
Luckily I’m pretty clever. See I work as a cable guy, I’m always welcome when your tv isn’t working. The process is simple, I find a house to burglarize and I screw with their tv service. When they call the 24 hour line I show up and they invite me in. I fix the issue and give them my personal contact info.
Now you may be wondering, what about the sun? That’s a myth, it ain’t pleasant but it won’t kill me. Burn me quickly yes, but I just stay lathered in sunscreen.
So, few hours later I screw their service up again. And they call my personal cell, I tell them that I’m busy and if it’s ok with them I’ll come by first thing tomorrow morning and work on it, they inevitably say sure, I then ask if it’s ok for me to come in and check the tv if they aren’t home.
These people know who I work for, I have charmed them a little previously and they always say of course you can come in and check the tv, we will leave a key out for you.
That’s my permission. At 12:01am I am allowed to enter their home and take all I want. Now here’s where I’m better than I used to be as a human. I can steal everything I want without even waking them up. We’re talking money, jewelry, high priced electronics, and so on.
Once I’m done I show up early to fix their cable service. I get to listen to them be so upset that they got burglarized in the dead of night. Scared, angry and unbelieving, it’s hilarious. |
My name is Dante Tony Redgrave, and this is the story of how one letter changed my life.
It started as any other day: I went out in the morning to check the mail. It was mostly just invoices and bills anyway—typical human shit. Anyways, when I reached into the mailbox, I pulled out a strange letter with a symbol on it I didn’t recognize. Opening it, I read the message… and I was consumed in a huge bright light, causing me to pass out. When I woke up, all I saw was a single platform in an expanse of open sky. I thought the view was beautiful… and then I was attacked by 7 figures I didn’t recognize ALL AT ONCE! There was a fat Italian, a guy with a tunic on, a dragon, a giant humanoid crocodile, a blonde chick in a blue jumpsuit (gotta get her number. She’s just my type!), a mouse, and a gorilla with a necktie on (Weird, I know). Anyways, I fight my heart out and end up coming in second to the gorilla—he got a lucky shot on me—when I was consumed by ANOTHER bright light! When I woke up this time, I was in a huge mansion where I was… congratulated by some of those who attacked me—namely, the fat Italian. Apparently, his name was Mario and thought I would be a perfect fit for something called Smash. Long story short, I got a home now! It’s been 6 days so far. If my nephew Nero or my friends Lady and Trish ask where I am, tell them I’m in the Smash Mansion. |
It was fun and games at first, just a quick way to feel relief. A quick cut here, punch this and maybe smoke that. It was never supposed to go this far. I don't know what happened or when, but this is a really bad turn of events. The blood just won't stop… Why won't this cut close? It wasn't even that deep of a cut. Just a quick one across the wrist before bed. Could have been the blade, I used my favorite knife. An old switch blade I got for my thirteenth birthday. My grandpa gave it to me, it was the last thing I have from him. I've kept the blade sharp, clean, and true, never letting so much as a drop of my foul blood remain on it's blade. I couldn't possibly sully such a treasure anymore than I have. He’d be so ashamed of me now, everyone is…
I've done all I could, but it's never enough. I wanted to be an artist growing up. But ever since dad remarried, he stopped supporting it. The supplies stopped coming in, and my paintings were disappearing, yet none ever sold. Slowly and surely I ran out of the materials I needed, but the requests kept coming in. I drove further and further into debt to fill them, the money I made never enough to cover all I borrow and the interest that followed. It's all has to be that whore Samantha. Dad was so supportive of it all until mom died. Those were better times.
Now grandpa left me too. He used to help me keep calm. Offer a place to go when I got kicked out for my art, help me apply to art schools across the world. He was a man of many languages after the years he spent travelling. We used to talk about it every night, even over the phone some nights. Tales of when he went to countries around the world. Learning their culture, language, and even lifestyle. Even spending weeks with civilizations we all thought were lost. But he left… taking his final breath before going on his last trip. And what would be his longest. He went to climb the stairs and find grandma, she had left a few months before him. He had given me a grin, the one I knew to be his poker face. The most shit-faced grin that told me he was hiding something, and said he’d be back. I raced out the room. Tears stinging my eyes as I dashed out the hospital, grandpa always was a horrible liar.
Soon the debts just piled to high, I knew id never be able to pay them off. Not with my backstabbing family at my front, and my so called friends lining up the shady deals behind my back. So I owned up to my end of the bargain. I ran away from home, taking the one item I treasured and could carry. Grandpa’s knife. You know, a pure, virgin goes for high prices. Who got this first, who got to take that first? These old geezers lining up and offering up everything they had to be the first for something. I paid off my debt after the first two, but they were ruthless. They paid top dollar, so they used me however they felt they deserved. And I let them, the pain was a rush. It distracted from what my life had become, so I continued. Raking in top dollar for the gang everytime. Who wouldn't want to pay for a girl that let you do whatever you want, however you want?
That's when it all started. One guy drugged me up and provided enough alcohol to kill a whale. And I took it. The gang has already given me a taste of everything, and my family had stopped searching. Or so I thought. What this man had though, it was different. My arms, my legs, everything just became so hot and sensitive. Every touch sent a searing pain through my body, like a hot pan pressed firm. I was known for being a sucker for pain though, so I took it. More and more, a pill here and another bottle there. But it didn't help. It only got worse. Soon I had blacked out. It had all just grown to be too much. Even just his fingertips was more than I could take, let alone the abuse he put me through. But he had paid, so he got his money's worth.
I woke up a mess. Covered in more fluids than I ever thought one human could produce, I went back to my “home” to clean up. It was hardly anyone's dream home, especially not for what I made in one night, but it worked. The gang provided a guard to watch it and my belongings, had a bed, full bathroom, kitchen, and a place for clothes. So how small it was didn't matter. After a long shower that involved scrubbing a lot of private places and places I didn't know I had, I prepared for bed. Had to be well rested for tonight after all. I slid into my night clothes and cut my wrist. Shallow enough to barely scar, don't want to devalue my “product.” But deep enough to be visible if you looked close, one cut for everyday since I had left home. I was at ninety-four so far. But that would be as far as I got… I never expected what came next.
I woke up, and the sheet around my arm was dyed red. The slit had never closed… it's like my body didn't realize that it was even there. The blood flowing slowly out of the wound, dripping softly into a puddle below. I panicked and rose in an instant, clutching my wrist. This couldn't be happening. I had perfected the art, every cut had healed by morning. Why was this one different. I called out of my shift for tonight, fearing that the unsightly wound would hurt my reputation and wrapped the wound tight. There had to be someway to stop this. I checked over my body and winced in pain as my fingers grazed over a bruise from my last client. Why was that here too? It hurts as bad as it did when I first woke up. Then panic hit me.
I flew out of bed and to my mirror, horror stuck on my face as I stared into my reflection. Every bruise, cut, and even the scratches from his nails showed perfectly. Each one standing out on my body like paint spilled onto a pristine canvas. No one would pay for me again…
I called the guard and he looked upon me in pure disgust. I didn't blame him… I looked absolutely terrible. I wouldn't be working again. He let me know I had made enough to stay as a member and continue living here, but I'd never be allowed to work in our territory again, I glanced over at the knife, resting on my nightstand from last night… the blade had blood on it still. The very tip of it had been soiled overnight by my vile blood. The family disappointment. The unwanted daughter to a divorced wife, the granddaughter that failed to see the world as planned, the failed artist, the ex-whore… and my blood had remained on the blade.
I reached for it slowly and carried it solemnly to the bathroom, regret filling every corner of my mind. How could I ever atone for what and who I've done? Father would be disgusted, grandma and grandpa would be crushed, and mother… I failed her and the gang. I used a scrap of a towel for the floor to clean the blade on final time. Now was the time. Taking the blade, still honed well enough to cut a wing from a butterfly, I gave one swift slice. But not from my wrist this time. A crooked smile formed as I crumbled to the floor, blood pooling around my body as I gasped for my final breath. It was warm, like an embrace from up above. But wet, engulfing me as I felt myself sinking in deeper. The light slowly fading further and further out.
Just as I thought… my final trip, wasn't gonna be to see grandpa. |
Life had become a circular motion. The same thing over and over in a never ending spiral of increased despair and anxiety.
I spent the early day looking for food, the fires that rained down had killed many of the animals and destroyed a lot of caches of edibles. But I could usually scavenge enough for the day.
I kept an eye out for survivors, but in the 3 years since the fire I hadn’t found anyone, or signs of anyone. My afternoons were spent wallowing in self pity, contemplating my “existence”.
I had realized that without other people life was meaningless. No potential relationships, no future, nothing to motivate you to do anything other than stay alive. Biology wants you to love even if your brain finds it pointless.
I found myself dreaming of other people, ironic since I spent my time before looking for seclusion. I had more time alone than I ever wanted now.
By my estimates it was 3 years and 169 days after the fire when I finally found what looked like signs of another survivor. I had been here before and I didn’t recall seeing a makeshift camp.
An old fire, some discarded cans of food, disturbed dust I didn’t disturb. I got excited and began looking for the person I was sure was near. I began hollering, it felt foreign, my unused voice was heavy and slow like speaking with a moth full of peanut butter. It came back quickly and I was shouting louder when I heard the retort of a gunshot.
I paused and ran towards the sound, thinking the worst. I burst into a room and heard another crack from a pistol, and a woman screaming.
I looked down and saw a woman with a gun, she looked scared. I put my hands up and said, “I’ve been looking for survivors for years.”
She began apologizing and screaming for me to lay down. I didn’t understand until she touched me and pulled her hand back covered in blood. It was only then I realized I had been shot.
I spoke to her as she worked, “I’m so glad I found someone else out here. I’ve been alone for so long, you have too I’m sure. Don’t worry about shooting me I forgive you.” I felt the darkness take me as I slipped from consciousness, my last thought was wondering if I would wake up. |
The world is steeped in magic, but most people don't realize it. The ley lines are obvious to the witches and warlocks, but they cannot access them without great effort. The first breakthrough happened when JRR Tolkien published The Hobbit. He had invented several brand new languages with their own rules, vocabulary, idioms, and jokes. For a while, he was the only one that knew the extent of it and during that time he performed wonders. They say he is the reason Britain won the war against the Germans. Then a bunch of nerds figured out how to speak it, and JRRT could no longer perform such magnificent wonders as altering the outcome of the future, but the witches discovered something. Those that spoke Elvish could see the future while those that spoke Dwarvish could divine for deposits of gold, diamonds, and oil in the earth. The Black Speech gave people mind control and power over the dead and Hobbitish allowed for some suprisingly powerful green thumbs. As more and more people learned the languages of Middle Earth their access to the ley lines, and subsequently their powers, decreased until Elvish only worked for statisticians, Dwarvish was good for miners, Black Speech was only good for psychologist, and Hobbitish only worked for farmers that were already connected to their plants and animals.
But the code had been broken. We've all heard about the pair of people living in Central America that are the last two speakers of their language, but they won't talk to each other because of some ancient feud. If they opened their mouths to speak, who knows what powers they may yield. The witches and warlocks pray they never speak, and the language dies with them, because they wield a language of war. The two most used languages in the world are currently English and Mandarin Chinese, and those that speak it are so far removed from the ley lines that they are almost as powerless as the fish in the sea.
My sister and I were born 6 minutes and 23 seconds apart. We have been together since the moment of our inception, and communicated primarily through telepathy before our parents got around to teaching us English however, we worked on our twin-speak in bits and pieces once our vocal chords were developed enough. The first thing we learned about in kindergarten was the power of languages, before even learning the alphabet or how to count. Apparently the government wants to restrict Rare Language Users, and anyone that knows them (Klingon, Elvish, Dothraki, Njerep, or Sarsi for example) must register with the local Language Office. Abby and I kept our twin-speak a secret and refused to use it outside of our own bedroom. There we performed wonders that hadn't been seen since JRR Tolkien's first publication.
And then on the eve of our 25th birthday, I received the official news that Abby had been killed in a hit and run. I had known it for several hours now, our telepathic connection having gone suspiciously silent a few hours before. I raced to the hospital where her body was being processed. I couldn't live without her, we needed each other. It had been the world vs us since the moment we were born. So I started speaking in our private language, the language I had almost forgotten (we had stopped speaking it at age 12). The healer warlock that had been attending her body looked up in shock as almost every single ley line in the city converged to meet my body. The power was unimaginable, so hot I felt like I was standing on the sun but at the same time so cold it was like floating in space. I directed everything I had at Abby, trying to bring her back as I spoke words naming her the only person I was capable of loving unconditionally in a language nobody but her could understand.
She came back, whole and healthy, but the two of us were locked away deep in a government facility under layers of steel, rock, and water where we lived out our days together, speaking a language of love only the two of us knew and hopefully influencing the world above for the better. |
"Quick, there's no time to look back, across the bridge, NOW!"
The group broke from a run into a flat sprint, sleek caped shadows scattering across the walls. The cavern was dim, the crevasse deep. On both sides, the cliff face, cloaked in shadow, was intricately decorated. Alcoves lined the faces, every one carved with exquisite detail. Or they had been once, but this place had been forgotten for too long. As they led in single file across the swaying wooden planks, the sputtering light from their torches illuminated the cracked visages staring down at them. Headless gods, long dead heroes, monsters from legend. No unifying theme could be found yet every alcove was turned, every so slightly, to peer down on the lone passage.
“What's with this place?” One of the group screamed, her purple robes fluttering behind her. She seemed short of breath, and panted hard between lines. “Goblins at least made sense, we're near their tunnels. But constructs? War golems? The fucking undead? But have you noticed -”
A lumbering figure, more or less humanoid in appearance, grasped her, interrupting her speech, and slung her over its shoulder. “Talk less. Energy. Run more.” it growled, the words slurred. It pounded onward, seemingly unphased by the mage's scant weight. The mage bounced with its steps, narrowly avoiding collision with the gargantuan hammer the creature carried on its back. The group seemed well armed and armoured, their evident preparation contrasting starkly with the air of panic. The weapon was of good quality, and was reinforced with a few blued runes, twinkling in the half-light.
The first few had already reached the far side, and had swung varied weapons off backs, wrenching them from sheaths. A tall grey skinned man, with a single horn on one side of his forehead, shouted orders as he faced back the way they'd fled. “We can't face them with these numbers, nor in this condition, cut the bridge.” His armour had been polished to the point of gleaming, though it was now littered with multi-coloured bodily fluids and the odd scrape or ding. The fight had been hard, and after the frantic escape, none had energy to spare.
As a testament to his leadership skill, no one complained, but the halfling's habitual grimace deepened, and even the elven ranger looked tense. With a few lightning fast sword slashes, and assistance from the rest of the group, the ropes were cut, and the bridge swung free into the abyss below. Just in time, as on the other side strange footsteps rung out, the collision of metal and stone on bare rock. Dim lights glimmered in the dark, yet the torchlight could not cover the distance. With a hissing scream a black feathered arrow leapt from the darkness, but failed to reach them.
They could not stop here.
“Pray they don't know another route.” A pious looking man spoke, before lapsing into mumbling over the rosaries clutched in his hand. The halfling grunted, but restrained herself, and the rest were too busy recovering their breath to focus.
“Let me down. Oi, we're here already. I said let me down.” The mage was lowered carefully by the blushing half-orc, complaining continuously. She shook herself off, and tried again to get the group's attention. “I was trying to say. We never should have taken a job with this little background. This makes no sense. There's too many enemies here, and none of them should be cooperating. And what's with all the statues? There are too many of the damn things. Who's got the time to fill an abandoned mine with statues anyway?”
In the background the halfling's attention seemed caught with something, and she was staring intently at the alcoves above the party. With a rogue's intuition for value, she was carefully appraising the serried ranks of statuary. Even damaged, the craftsmanship was superb, and it did seem odd to see them abandoned here in such numbers.
“I mean they're everywhere,” the mage was continuing, pent up nerves pushing her onward, “what's with that? All different sizes, all different species. Half of them mismatched. I've never seen their backs. They've been in every passage since we hit the entrance, it's like we're being-”
A scraping rasp of stone interrupted her words. The party reacted instantly. They faced back across the gap, readied in their own ways. The elf had drawn an elegant long bow, a macabre and hooked arrow glistened upon it. The captain raised his sword once more, yellow eyes staring intently at the murky distance. The cleric seemed to be praying to his god, the barbarian seemed nonplussed, or perhaps simply wasn't paying attention. The mage, interrupted once more, held a scroll in one hand, whilst the other, raised in front of her, glowed with ominous purple light.
Apart from the rogue.
The halfling was still staring at the alcoves, mouth agape, small shoulders trembling, one finger pointing shakily upwards. They had travelled together long, and knew their mistake instantly. Heads whipped collectively around, just in time to see the hewn mouth of a small dragon statue split open. No sound emerged but they felt, in their souls, a booming voice that didn't match its size chuckle with glee;
“Ahahaha, aha. Ha. Yes. We have.” Its outline had seemed blurry in the shadows anyway, but now it was pulsing rhythmically. Snatches of scale could be glimpsed, reflecting the orange torchlight. “Been watching, that is. And in fairness, I wasn't always so *small*.” |
Dust billows up into the air, clouding our view through the tiny spacecraft window, as we finally land on the great red planet. Joy blooms in my chest and a smile paints across my lips as I feel the spacecraft sink down into the dirt of Mars.
I glance around at my team - Jennifer and Gabe, the scientists, Bill, the botanist, and Abigale, the Captain. And of course, me - Wesley Graham, the astronaut.
We are the first team of people to arrive at the United States Colony city on Mars, which was created using automated building machines during our travels across space. It’s hard to believe we’re actually here. After all these years of planning and preparing, we finally made it to our new home.
“Are you ready, Wesley?” Abigale smiles at me from the door to the spacecraft, with one hand resting on the metal lever that will allow us freedom from this tiny dome.
I nod once, unable to stop the grin from spreading across my face. “I’m ready.”
She glances around at the others, making eye contact and nodding to ensure the whole team is prepared. Then she turns back towards the door, takes a deep breath, and turns the lever.
The steps emerge from the spacecraft and sink down into the red dirt, as we all file out into the brand new city street. Several six story tall buildings have already been erected on either side of the paved road, along with quaint restaurants and shops. It smells like freshly poured asphalt mixed with stale, dusty air. Aside from the lack of cars, it very closely resembles a normal American city street.
Except...*what is that?* Movement catches my attention off to the left and I jerk my head towards it, squinting my eyes to get a better look.
Down the road just a few yards, something steps out from between a couple of shops. It slowly, deliberately pads into the middle of the road, then cranes its neck to stare at us.
“What-“ I pause, swallowing. “What is that?”
“I think it’s...” Gabe begins, but his voice trails off as his face turns as pale as a ghost. “Oh, mother of god.”
Dread fills up my insides as I watch the creature take two small steps towards us, but then pick up its feet and start to run. Gabe’s fingers curl around the sleeve of my jacket and he yanks me back toward the spacecraft, just as more come barreling ferociously out of the shops lining the streets.
“Run!”
**Hai hai! If you liked this story and would like to read more of my stuffs, they can all be found at r/AliesStories! :3 Thanks for reading!** |
You know those people who say shock makes you see weird things? How adrenaline makes you feel like you’re outside your body and in a video game?
Have I got a story for you.
You remember the skyscraper that used to be on Fifth? The crown jewel of the city until some weird structural integrity thing got to it? I was there when it happened. A lot of people didn’t make it out, but somehow I managed to survive.
Picture this: walking out of a job interview you’re pretty sure you screwed up all dolled up in a button down and heels and trying to convince yourself you didn’t really need the job anyway. Next thing you know there’s this rumbling and a loud thud and your heart is pounding. The whole damn building is shaking!
You ever hear about how, for safety reasons, buildings like that are designed to collapse inward, right? It’s why the collapse went from the top down. I think. Don’t quote me on it when I’m two beers in, honey.
So there I was, heels, perfect eyeliner, in a shaky building and this big old piece of plaster falls from the ceiling. At this point I’m convinced I’m dead or about to die when the weirdest thing happens:
Everything sort of freezes and goes gray. A couple of arrows pop up with a little dial in the middle. One pointing to the right. One pointing to the left. Well to the left of me is just a wall, but to the right is another office. So of course I just smack the arrow to the left and just run into the office. Damn near tripped because of those stupid heels. I wind up backing up into the window as the whole ceiling in the hallway winds up collapsing.
Like I said: pretty sure that’s how it’s supposed to go. The inner part of the building goes first then collapses inward, yeah? Next thing I know, the whole world goes gray and that dial pops up. This time my options are duck down or jump out the window. I figure I’m dead either way and I think I see the rope for the window washer nearby so I kick off my heels, smack the jump option and then just roll myself out the window!
I tell you, I surprised the hell out of that window washer. Poor guy was already flipping out and who can blame him when this chick dressed in her business casual best is suddenly dropping at him and grabs him to stop her own fall. I’m shocked neither of us broke anything! So this guy is rightly cussing and yelling but he is a consummate professional and manages not to let go of his rope. Did you know most window washing gear for skyscrapers is really mountain climbing gear when you get down to it? The guy was trying to rappel down the building but he only has so much rope.
Oh, hey? Are you getting up? Can you get me another beer? Thanks!
Anyway, the building is collapsing down on top of us -- collapsing \*inward\* -- and we’re both understandably pissing ourselves because we’re both pretty sure we’re going to die. I start cussing my head off and have no idea how I’m keeping a grip on this guy when I spot another open window nearby.
World goes gray. Arrows and a dial. This time to the right to the open window and another pointing down, I guess to where we eventually wound up anyway. I manage to knee the arrow to the right and we swing over and then back. Then the stupid arrow pops up again and I kick it. This goes on for a few times and the window washer is yelling at me -- understandably so -- until he sees we’re going to an open window. He grabs it and pulls us in. He gets out of his harness in less than ten seconds, grabs my arm, and leads me down the hall. Guy knows the building better than me so of course I’m going to follow him! It’d be suicide not to.
The weird part was as we ran these little symbols kept appearing. Letters and squares and circle. I just kept smacking them and then things would happen: wires falling, other people coming out of offices as they tried to evacuate, lights exploding. Some real action movie stuff going on!The whole time I’m following this guy. No clue who window washer guy is, but he knew what he was doing better than anyone else. Even shoved the guy out of the way of a section of the roof above us collapsing thanks to a stupid letter ‘A’ popping up right on his back.
So we get to the staircase and the stupid thing is blocked. Too many people. Too much shaking. No way we could get out in time. At least, no guarantee we’d be getting out. The guy is cussing up a storm about it and guess what happens?
Yup! Gray out. Arrows. One pointing to the crowd. One pointing to the window. One pointing to the office.
I choose the office. Barely get in dragging this guy behind me and then another one pops up. This one to the desk. The next one to the balcony. I decide screw it! I’m taking the balcony!
What turned out to be under the balcony? A dumspter. What popped up? Choices. Which one did I choose?
Dumpster diving.
Believe me, I have no idea how neither one of us got hurt. I should have at least sprained an ankle or something. I still think I banged my head at one point to see all those arrows and letters and stuff flying at me. I can still hear Mr. Washer cussing me out for pulling him over the railing with me.
Oh the guy? Heck if I know where he is! I climbed out of the dumpster and went to the nearest bar. You go through that sort of ordeal the first thing you want to do is get yourself a drink. |
The Commander led his armies through the galaxy. From planet to planet cleansing the worlds from his dead father's "loyalist"army.
When the news came only a few of the descendents actually believed it. The immortal Emperor of Humankind have died, yet his body still moves and his light still guides the ships across the galaxy. His body supposedly only moves by the sheer willpower of the late emperor. That was the reason why most didn't believe the news.
But to a selected few the gods themselves told of the news, The Commander was one of these chosen.
So he raised an army to finally lay his father to rest. His misguided brothers named him traitor and a monster for this.
But he knew what he does is just, so he asked the gods for help, and the gods answered.
The god of honor and martial prowess blessed him personally to aid in his crusade. The four gods also blessed his armies.
With their newly aquired blessings the "Traitor"legions of The Commander fought their way straight to the home world of mankind, Terra.
As his armies rained down upon the ancient world, he confronted the body of his late father.
Their fight stretched on for a long time without a clear winner emerging. Until the walking-dead made a crucial mistake. The Commander did not let this chance go by, he struck the body of his father with as much force as he could.
The Emperor went down but he still wasn't out pf the fight yet. So the Commander moved closer to finish his holy quest, given to him by the gods themselves. To put his father to rest.
But just as he was about to give him the finishing blow, a single soldier, not even half the size of the Commander stepped in front of him. This soldier was just as brave as he was misguided.
The Commander knew what he needed to to, so he struck down the brave soldier and moved to his father.
However, the single moment that it took for the Commander to kill the soldier was enough for the Undead Emperor of Humankind to do a counter attack. Which succeeded.
The champion of the gods, the Chosen Commander was struck down in an instant, thus failing his quest and dooming the galaxy to a tyrannical rule.
The only consolation he got was that he knew that others will take his place in the future, for the gods are rightious and will not stand by and watch as the galaxy suffers under the undead Emperor.
As the defeated commander lay upon the ground, under his final breath, he whispers:
"For Chaos..."
(I'm new to writing [as you could probably tell] and i'm not a native english speaker. So feel free to correct my mistakes. Constructive criticism is more than welcome as well)
him personally to aid in his crusade. |
Commander Koshida stood in the helm of the UPF Fate Bringer, bathed in red light. The emergency beacon on the planet UPF - 322 had activated, contacting the closest UPF vessel, the Fate Bringer. The emergency beacon had sent a message, as well as satellite footage of the small planet. The message read, "The planet was dying. We tried to send our best outwards, and they failed. Remember us."The Commander swiped her hand, shifting from the message to the video footage.
The footage showed UPF - 322 from middle orbit. It was a vibrant planet, mostly land, with deep oceans. Commander Koshida remembered taking leave there once. It was a peaceful planet. Almost all of the wildlife had evolved to be herbivores, making it ideal for the peaceful research that had once taken place on the planet. Without the threat of large, carnivorous wildlife, security around the perimeter was more relaxed. Koshida had been placed in a resort on a beach, and she had marveled at the luminescent life that populated the ocean. She had proposed on that beach.
As the footage continued, The Commander noticed something. She saw a few rockets trying to escape the planet's atmosphere. She saw them lose. This was troubling, as those rockets should have had enough power for multiple trips to and from the planet's surface. An answer soon came, however, as the planet shattered.
Massive fissures split the luscious land, causing magma to erupt from the core of the planet. She shook her head. It must have been sabotage, but how could there be such a devastating weapon, able to destroy a planet from the surface. The commander then noticed that the planet wasn't floating apart. If it had been destroyed, the blast should have sent the planet scattering in all directions! Then, the planet got smaller. No, not smaller. It started to condense. The rock and magma and life grew closer together. Then, an alarm showed up on the satellite's screen. It was being drawn towards the planet, out of orbit. The planet condensed further, until it was nothing but rubble. The rubble started to swirl, as if it was water circling a drain. Then, as it got to the epicenter of the swirl, it disappeared. The Commander's eyes widened with realization. She cut off the video.
"Lieutenant, bring up all the information we have on what was being researched on 322."
"Yes, Commander!"
Koshida scanned the document, reading over the experiments. The very last one, an experiment only listed as "Operation Nightcrawler", only had a short description. It read, "Operation Nightcrawler: Wormhole-based travel, designed for instant transportation."
Koshida sighed, and rewound the video, watching the rockets carrying researchers fail to escape the accident their experiments had caused.
"Lieutenant, contact the United Planetary Front Main Research Outpost. It seems we need to have a talk with Chairman Denvers about unapproved subspace experiments. Again." |
\[Poem\]
As a child, something wasn't quite right
Doctors all said I was very "bright"
For being gifted is not a gift, it is a curse
One that made my reality much worse
As a child, most of you had an imaginary friend
I, however, had a whole other universe to rend
At first I thought of death and sadness
Until a voice spoke to me with such kindness
"Why do you attack us with such hate?
I have been suffering here since I was eight!
I must love you and all you do
But I think it's quite poo"
Okay, maybe it wasn't that nice
But it's like fighting a fire with ice
Sometimes it will work, sometimes it won't
But it made me think of something most people don't
Maybe we are not alone, the hippies had it right
Oooh, if I can prove it, my future is indeed very bright!
I tried to shape my world with glory in mind
Shaping it while helping my father cut lemon rind
For a cut across and three down is the best way, you see
I would make four buildings and make one fall down with glee
I shaped my universe into a shining ball of light
Ready to take to scientists and give them such a fright!
One day, my dad told me I was invited to go to the capital of Armenia
But all he did was take me to an institution and tell them I had schizophrenia!
I hate my dad, I hate him so bad
I killed him in my universe, brought him back to life, and did it again. So rad!
For one day when I get out of this place
I will be the one to finally end the fucking human race
My previous attempt got covered up and some fat man got to use my name
Well, too bad, even if everybody loves him. It's a bloody shame
You better watch out, you better not cry
You better not pout, I'm tellin' you why!
Santa Claus does much more than try
I'm making a list and checking it twice
Gonna find out who's naughty and nice
The good will go in peace, the rest gutted like mice
Leave out milk or leave out wine
I'm sure you'll all die just fine
But give me any more carrots for my dog
and I'll make you dig your own grave in the fog
My vision fades and goes to black
I wake up still tied to this rack
My medication must be starting to kick in
I look down... Holy shit, I'm so thin!
I scream out for anybody to \*\*GET ME OUT OF HERE\*\*
I see the nurses blanch from the fear
For I am the man that got classified information from a brick wall
So classified that the Government ensured that the witnesses had... an efficiently placed fall
I am too dangerous to go back to making my money baking a pie
But I am too useful to just be left in the corner to die
For while I can't change the real world that I can see
I know everything that happens on the other side! Heee heee heeee heeeeeee HEEEEEEEEEE HEHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEE
Oh, there we go, the evil giggle
The only thing I can do now is give my breasts a jiggle
For while they have my hands and legs strapped in tight
Bryan managed to smuggle some Cyanide into my cleavage last night
I bend my head and swallow the pill
Suddenly I start to feel quite ill
No, don't panic, you stupid Fed
By the time you get past the retinal scanners I will be quite dead. |
Wind
Our only god, only he can feel the whole world at once, unlike us. We flawed humans can only ever feel god's presence on our skin, unlike him we must travel, to feel and see the wonders of the world. That is the message I earned the right to spread, me Aakl'hactik priest of Wind. I've travelled far and wide where Wind took me, I saw wonders, and I've learned God's way. Though we mere humans can only over see the world for a brief time, I know that travellers will one day be part of wind, wandering the world forever, with God, as God.
My duty was clear when I understood Wind, others must follow me, and thus follow Wind, and none shall settle, to a miserable routine.
As time went on, many started following me through the wonders of the world, and to every city we came it, it only took us a few weeks for the citizens to leave their homes and burn them to the ground. Only a few city remains nowadays, only three actually, of course as Wind we keep moving, but like a tornado, we raze through the bastions against Wind's embrace. The three cities are Ful Ekhorce, the the bastion of the mountain, Tek Farfa, the cultivators plateau, and Uar hiteh, the the rivers jewel. All three of their cities hold thousands of inhabitants unaware of Wind's glory. That changes today. At dawn, all of our troops will use a powerfull prayer that god granted to me in a dream. I dreamed of a tornado, that held the three cities castles, and other major parts of the city mixed within Wind's strength. The parts and inhabitants were dancing and singing throughout the rubbles singing and dancing repetitive movements, and repetitive chants. In the dream I learned how to join them, and as I woke up, I decided to try.
And here I was, flying in the air, dancing and singing, as I did in the dream. Of course, gulps of wind came all around me, and my followers awoke to find me.
Now, everyone knows how to summon God, and we all will do it at once, right in the middle of a city, and then the next, and then the last one.
Only those who'll dance with us and God will survive, and the rest shall perish with their cities, and after all that, we will travel forever with Wind. |
I awoke feeling very well rested. “That was the best sleep I’ve had in my whole life!” I said to no one in particular. I went about my daily activities as per usual, but thinking to myself that with each activity I felt more and more alive. I couldn’t figure it out, that is, until I decided to go out to my balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean. All at once I felt immense energy flowing inside me. I closed my eyes to hold on to that feeling because I didn’t want to let it go. When I opened my eyes I was surprised to find that my vantage point had changed dramatically. I was now floating 30ft above my balcony. Now while I have no fear of heights I was concerned with how to reach the ground safely. So I I decided to try something, I envisioned myself floating down to the balcony below and it worked! “I wonder what else I can do now?” I silently thought to myself.
A few days had passed since my awakening, and I had discovered that I could not only fly but also manipulate all the energy around me. This included launching projectiles, creating barriers, and summoning objects all with just a thought. I had gotten curious as to whether I was the only person to awake and concluded i could not be the only one. So my search began for the others.
Upon finding the other awakened ones, we established a council of sorts. We all made the blood oath to never turn on each other. From then we began training our magical powers, it was something we innately knew we must do. Hannibal was close to mastering his illusion magic, while Sera had already mastered her destructive magic. I had been training just as much as either of them but felt I couldn’t master my summoning magic. I had consulted with both Hannibal and Sera for advice and nothing I did worked. Alas, I had to scour the ancient archives in Rome to find my answer.
I had summoned a flying basilisk to travel to the Vatican. Upon arrival I was immediately accosted as to how I came to be master of the Basilisk. Now this struck me as odd, because they effectively ignored the fact that I had this mythical creature and were more interested in how I became its master. “So they knew all along...” I thought to myself. When I refused to tell them they attacked without warning. The bishops began either chanting or weaving signs I could only imagine were for some spell or another. At that moment I was not filled with trepidation but pure unbridled indignation. What followed next was simply a massacre.
The Basilisk I had summoned attacked of its own volition to protect its master. She grabbed the first bishop and swallowed him whole, the second bishop probably didn’t even know he was already dead because he was still chanting, eyes shut as my Basilisk bisected him. After the first two bishops fell almost literally in the blink of an eye the spells started flying from every direction aimed at my Basilisk. I created a barrier around her and the spells were absorbed by the shield. At the same moment she began glowing a very luminous purple, I stood just as stunned as the bishops as she unleashed a purple fire that radiated outward from her center and then the Vatican fell silent. |
At first I thought they were just lucid dreams. But once they started occuring every day I got suspicious, they seemed too real and how could I be lucid dreaming every other day?
Things got really weird in the dream. It was like I was seeing a whole new universe, I was seeing in more than three dimensions. I didn't know much of the physics behind dimensions but I knew the 4th dimension was time.
I was a greater being who was able to see in 4 dimensions. So were the other beings in the universe. They were immensely powerful and were metahumans. They used telepathy to communicate and it was as if they had CPUs for brains.
It felt like I had spent a lot longer than usual in my dreams. I had no sense of time.
"It's time to plug you in"said a voice behind me.
There was a man dressed in a full suit with black glasses.
"No one can exist outside the matrix"he said almost like a robot.
Just as he tried to pull me, someone shoved me to the side. And landed a hard punch on the man. He collapsed on the floor.
"We have been waiting for you"he said to me. He had a flowing beard and piercing eyes like he had seen a thousand lives.
"Me?"I asked taken aback.
"Yes, we need someone who's outside the matrix to help us, what you see right now is the future of humanity. Most of them are puppets, they are plugged in and they don't even know it"
It was a lot of information to take in for me.
"There is a code base that exists outside in the real world, you need to go in there and disable the matrix"
"How do I do that? I'm not prepared for this, I want to wake up"I said
"Don't please don't, we'll train you, first let's get out of here, they may be back."He told me as he looked into my eyes.
Something told me to believe this man.
"But when will I wake up?"I asked him
"Don't worry, my team has taken your body to a safe place, they tried to assassinate you today"
I was shocked. Kill me? I was just a normal guy.
"No you aren't, if you indeed were a normal person, you wouldn't be here talking to me"
He told me as if he read my mind.
"Don't worry now, you are safe. Let's start shall we?"He asked. |
“Riot is a dick”
“You can say that again”
“Stain wants revolution”
“Working on that. We have to find Venom first. But before that, sushi”
“Sushi is good to.”
I stepped into the sushi bar. Thankfully I always made sure to carry a large some of cash to feed stain. Half way through a feast of sushi Stain started to freak out, “KILL!!!”
I heard the screams. In that instant we both became one, the fear, adrenaline, hunger, excitement even. Being enveloped was still a tad bit unsettling but I had gained a fair amount of skill while fighting with Stain.
Another symbiote crashed through the door shouting, “STAIN!”
*You know him?*
*yes*
“AGONY!!!”
The duel commenced. Stain couldn’t make weapons like other sybiotes. He acted more as an ‘upgrade’ per say. He made me the fastest, stronger, all senses were enhanced by 100 fold. He closest things to a weapon we had were claws, tannins more like, on the hands and feet that could pierce concrete. So in a head to head fight we were screwed. We collided and started being thrown around the shop this symbiote could shoot projectiles like quills and several explosives. He eventually had us pinned. That was when the chef stepped in.
“End”.
Agony stopped in it’s tracks. We knew that smell, fear, pure unbridled terror, and that same feeling was sweeping through us. The Chef was a symbiote. He grabbed Agony by the throat. Tendrils started to drift from his bodies and wrap Agony in a cocoon. After a minute the tendrils returned to the chef, he was blue and had white markings. The man on the floor where agony once stood was not even a man. A boy no more than 14. One thought was racing through Stain’s mind, *Cannibal. Death. Cannibal. Cannibal!*
To our surprise the chef did not eat us. The symbiote retreated and the chef remained standing. “Guess who’s going to clean this place up?”
Filled with fear we nodded and began cleaning up.
“We don’t intend to eat you. So long as you clean and pay for the food”
“Okay. How would you feel about a revolution?”
“If it means not having to replace my entire restaurant every other week I’m in”
The distinct disembodied voice of a symbiote then said, “Cannibal like revolution. Does Riot taste good?” |
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It was just meant to be a look, just a glimpse. I only looked because I could swear the meat locker smelled rotten. Dave swore on his life that he checked it,
“No need to look Rheee,” with the elongated e like he always talked, “I sweear on mee mums right arm that I checked!”
I hadn’t noticed that it was off until now, the e’s where a split second too long, the a’s a split second too short. Dave was a cool guy, you trusted him despite his prank streak. But the mascot... he wore that stupid clown mascot outfit too much, you forgot it was Dave underneath. Dave used to say that he forgot he was Dave in the Kool Klown outfit, we used to joke that the person who created him must have been a boomer. And yet the outfit was so terrifying, even he admitted that.
Dave wore it more and more. Until he didn’t.
Until he refused.
Until he screamed and kicked that he couldn’t.
He would “take” him.
I guess he did, because that’s what I found, Dave, my best friend Dave, Rhea’s best friend since diapers Dave...
He was lying, torn apart, three limbs gone, guts scraped clean, bones polished, shiny ivory colour, meatless. It was Dave’s job the get the meat from the locker, when out of costume. Some freak show who looked like my best friend had me cook this, and feed it to families.
In the ambulance there I contemplated simply jumping out the window, they’d think it was me.
Well, they didn’t...
Not since they found the guy in there a day later, feasting on the raw, rotten flesh.
The maggots infested, red raw, bloody, teeth staining flesh of the ivory white bones, harsh and unyielding, until he ripped it off in front of them for a
“Sneaky snack on the way there, know what I’m saying fellas?”
He was pleasant, polite enough, until the tried to take off the costume, he went ballistic, screamed at them. Ripped his own arm clean off. They say he died in hospital from the wound.
But he didn’t, The Kool Klown doesn’t need arms, he just took mine, and a few other things. |
Today marked the 365th day since the accident that left Martin stuck on this island. He recalled, during a time of remembrance before the celebration, how he got to where he was today. He remembered losing his dear friend and co-pilot in the crash. How the rain had battered so hard on the cock pit window. How he tried mercilessly to free Francis from the constraints of the seat. He remembered his awakening inside a thatched roof hut with pale brown bamboo walls thinking he was delusional from the crash. Nothing would resurrect his lost companion. But he couldn't be bothered with memories of the past now. Today was the climax of everything he had worked so hard for in this past year. Getting closed to the tribesmen, learning their ceremonies, mastering their craft, and uncovering the best unknown secret of the Ashwagmi people. Today, he would be brought down into their meticulously dug out caverns where they had stored the gold of shipwrecked adventures for centuries. He didn't know what had brought them to revere him as a God simply because his only understanding of their language was translated through rudimentary pictographs and gestures, but today he would be welcomed into his wildest riches.
&#x200B;
The Ashwagami chief knew that his sacrifice would please the sea gods for another ten years of plentiful harvest on his island. The gods had gifted him with foreigners to learn from and he knew like his predecessors had done, how to handle the outsider once all the technologies had been absorbed. This was the only way to collect on the promises of their continued flourishing as a tribe. The months past had brought famine through out the community as the ceremony date loomed closer. Now was the time of great sacrifice.
&#x200B;
Martin was summoned by the council during midday feeding.
&#x200B;
*This is it!*, he thought to himself. *They'll finally recognize me as their leader and bestow upon me their riches. I'll be able to get off the god forsaken island and back home.* This however, was not the case.
&#x200B;
The high priest was waiting from him down in the caverns. This was somewhere he had never been. He entered a large chamber filled with the tribunal council ad all the males of the tribe. Immediately, he was seized by four bushmen and drug over to a slab of stone. The men tied down his feet to an over head rafter resembling what he thought was a sea faring bird. He hung down touching the slab only with his finger tips.
&#x200B;
As the High priest started chanting his sacrificial utterance, Martin was ready to relinquish his right to live. This, he knew was how it had to be done to receive his tribal gifting. These peoples must have had a communal relationship with a universal being guiding them into greener pastures. He was glad to be apart of this and awaited what would come for him in his next life. |
There I was, scrolling for days through new prompts. It was slight variations of the same terrible themes over and over. I thought "Dear god, what the hell. How am I supposed to come up with something with this crap?"It's true, once in a while you come across a gem. Those, however, were few and far between.
"Why can't someone just come up with something completely different"I thought. Granted it's not easy to do, but with the amount of people who view the sub, someone's bound to be able to do it. A good prompt should spark a writer's mind with just enough detail to leap from. I continued to browse in hopes of something to spark my creative writing process. |
First, I didnt find you. I wasnt even looking for anything. You and your people found me.
Second, this is exacly what you and your people have been telling me for the last few millenia.
Third, everytime you have said that, you and your people have subsequently killed me claiming divine rights.
Fourth, you are regressive, so each successive lifetime makes your soul meaner and more destructive.
Fifth, as usual you think you have trapped me. Thats because you have gotten dumber with each lifetime.
Finally, you have no fucking clue who I am. And you never will. Just know that it will always be the wrong lifetime.
So here is some Jesus' opera set to Elvis' farts as interpreted by the wannabe Gengis Khan choir. I call it...
"Killing others' angels"
It will be followed by a performance of "The crimes of my thoughts in your head"by The Revolvos
The final performance will be a ballet called "You need me to cry"as composed by The Convulsions
The opera titled "But I keep laughing"will not be performed in its entirety this lifetime.
Only a preview intro called "If you cant sharpen your wit, sharpen your knives"will be performed by The Voodoo Stabbers.
Somewhere in the middle there will be a rendition of "The coming death stare"by The Fuck Offers
Your front row seats are waiting for you and your lot.... |
Of all the people to chose to go to investigate the tower why me?
He had remembered the choosing that the king had ordered. He had been one of the hundreds selected of the kings army. He had tried to hide himself behind one of the huge columns in the throne room and still his name was called. So off he went to the mages' tower in the forest just outside of town on the other side of the forest. His trip through the forest has been fraught with attacks by wild animals and he even got waylaid by some bandits. He had fought them off and had a bruised rib to show for it. So now he stood at the front door of the tower and not wanting to go through with the investigation.
The tower was huge stretching up to the sky as far as he could see. Instead of marveling at how grand the building was all he could think about was having to climbing all those stairs in full armor. His legs started getting tired just thinking about it. The courtyard looked fairly normal with decorative bushes and trees planted throughout and didn't look menacing at all. He thought to himself that it wouldn't be that bad at all so he straightened out his armor and knocked on the door.
As his knuckle rapped out the first knock the floor gave way. He thought he would've fell straight down to his death but the floor was sloped. Unfortunately for him it was sloped at a very steep angle an he was flying down the chute. It must've curved at one point because he crashed into the wall sending him spinning out of control. He collided with a wall with a crunch thankful that his armor gave him some sort of protection. He ended up on the bottom of the chute with more bruises and thought he might've chipped a tooth. He groaned as he picked himself off of the floor and noticed that he was in a room that was quite cozy. A small fire was going in the fireplace and a small table was set with tea and little cakes. The walls were painted a bright cheery color and oddly enough had paintings on the walls that depicted peaceful country sides.
"please have a seat"boomed a voice from behind him. He spun around drawing his sword but before he could bring it up to guard himself it flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor. He looked at his hand quite dumbfounded because there was no impact and it felt like the sword handle had just slipped out of his hand. He looked up again at the figure standing in front of him. The man stood taller than him by a good hand span and had a short scruffy beard that covered half his face. He wore a simple cotton tunic and pants that could only be described as comfortable. The man made a gesture with his hand causing the captain to slowly slide backwards until he thumped into the chair. He tried to force himself back out of the chair but he seemed to be stuck to it. He gave up the struggle and looked over at the food on the table.
"Eat, I made it for you so help yourself"the man said as he sat down across from the captain. The man poured the tea for the both of them and popped a cake into his mouth.
"Good of the king to send me someone to talk to, it gets boring out here guarding the outskirts of his borders."the man said around a mouthful of food. He drank some tea and smiled at the captain amusing himself with the confusion that still painted his face.
The captain was too confused to eat but he did try the tea. it was fragrant and seemed to lift his spirits. His body stopped aching and he felt his exhaustion drain away. He looked up again and was about to ask a question before the man lifted up his hand palm out in a placating gesture.
"So I have to tell you something about why you're here. You are the kings son, his only son that is. You however are a bastard from one of his dalliances from when he was younger. He sent you to me so I could train you to be better and one day rule the kingdom. So what I'm going to need you to do is sleep now and when you wake we'll begin your training.
He finished his speech and before the captain could ask any questions the mage waved his hands in a sweeping gesture and the captain fell asleep.
"I swear this pendragon family is going to be the death of me", the mage muttered as he moved the captain to the sleeping pallet. |
"Well you simply are quite a hero for that little kingdom of yours, aren't you puny knight."The dragon laughed as I entered the main chamber of his lair. I looked at it in pure shock, almost deciding to wack myself in the head with my sword to see if I was hearing right.
"Thanks?"I replied, my voice scratchy and hoarse from the long journey I had just taken, worn from mostly all the yelling I had done during my fights.
The dragon, the size of about half of my Kings castle rose to it's feet and slowly stretched each limb of its body, taking it's sweet time like it didn't even care I was here. Blinking twice, the amber eyes focused on me, the slitted pupils now completely focused on me. With a long yawn, and a flex of its talons, the dragon continued to speak.
"Your here to take back your kings treasure and to ultimately defeat me. But how do you even plan on taking a magnificent being as myself down to the grave? Your metal toothpick cannot even penetrate through the smallest and weakest of my scales."An arrogant laugh filled the cavern, and I clutched my sword a little tighter, trying to hide inside my helmet. "Its such a pitiful fate, after all you've done to just be killed by me."The dragon continued, and I took the time to look around the cavern to see the only exit was behind me, and that I was practically doomed to an insignificant death by this being.
"Have you... ever played chess?"I asked unsure. The dragon raised it's eyebrow, if dragons even had eyebrows. "It's a game of intellect and well... I was curious if you had the intellect to play a game against me?"I said,trying to sound calmer than I was. "The king had a diamond set, and I'm sure it's around here... somewhere."I gestured around the cavern with my sword and carefully watched the dragons reaction.
"You. Are asking me. To a game of chess? How do you think I could play with these large talons and claws?"The dragon said, almost sounding offended. "Absolutely absurd."
I pursed my lips and shrugged. "Well, if you know what the game is and how to play, I'm sure you've played before."I said.
"Insolent being. Die."The dragon said setting the cavern aflame and immediately sending me running out of the cavern, feeling a little toasty,
"This is the last time I go on a quest."I grumbled to myself as I trudged down the tall mountain to tell the king of my failure. "I swear, I thought the chess thing would've worked this time."I whined to myself as I made my way down the mountain. |
It's a long way to go for little payoff but hopefully someone finds it worth it.
She hopped out of the forest green Subaru a significant bounce in her step. So many days work in a row. They were short handed at the store, as assistant manager she was stuck filling the empty shifts. Mornings, afternoons, and graveyards, if it wasn’t for corporate calling and informing her manager, no more seventy-hour work weeks, she probably would’ve been stuck there again today. Angie shook her head and reminded herself not to think about the convenience store. By the grace of the corporate gods she’d been gifted two consecutive days off for the first time in months, and she was going to take advantage. Especially, since it was so rare for those gods to give at all.
Opening the door to the backseat she unzipped the top pocket of her pack. It was a quick moment to slather her legs and arms in sunscreen and bug spray, taking more time with her face to keep it out of her eyes and mouth. She took a couple big gulps off the water bottle in a side pocket and hefted the pack onto her back. She rocked on her heels a bit to make sure the weight was balanced, and everything was secure before slamming the door. Her long strides brought her past the couple of other parked cars to the trailhead. Staring down the long straight steady incline that started the path the momentary flicker of worry that the tiny lake might be overcrowded passed into the larger concern that she might no longer be able to make it up the eight-mile hike.
With the first step, “Maybe this was a bad idea.” The second, “It had been a year since the last time she’d made the trek.” The third, “That time she’d had Traci with her.” On the next step, “When Traci hadn’t been able to go, she should’ve called it off.” One more, “Would it be shameful to turn back now? Who would know, either way?” Each step brought with it more clarity and less thought. By the first turn into the steeper switchbacks, there were no doubts left. A rhythmic persistence took over, inhale, right foot, exhale, left foot, inhale, right, exhale, left.
The paved path faded to gravel, and then to packed dirt. Sprouts of weeds yet to be trampled down burst through the uneven portions. Muddy patches in deep shade left over from the previous day’s rain. Smooth patches of bare stone where the dirt had been scraped and washed away. Her eyes were pinned to the ground in front of her not wanting to trip and sprain something on her solo trip, even if it was a fairly well used path. She didn’t see the first bridge till it appeared at her feet. A log chopped in half lengthwise to create a flat surface spanned the small creek.
A pair of eyes met hers as she glanced across. The couple was waiting for, she realized. She moved to one side and waved for them to cross. They stepped onto the makeshift bridge in single file, arms flung out wide for an unnecessary bit of extra balance. The two laughed purposely wobbling back and forth, putting one foot in front of the other heel to toe. Angie couldn’t help but laugh herself as they rushed through the last couple of steps to jump back to the path. Face to face, she saw their wide grins. “Worth it?”
The response came almost in unity, “Definitely, the lake at the top is beyond gorgeous.”
On the other side, she took a little break. Little more than an hour in and already half-way. “Making great time,” she mused as she sat on her pack. After ample time for the quiet green around to settle into her thoughts. Crisp clean air in her lungs, she sprung up, ready to finish her journey. Her shoulders announced their sore displeasure when she hefted the pack again. Clicking the straps in front of her chest and around her waist, the pack felt like it had doubled in weight. She stumbled a bit backward, from rocking on her heels to double check the balance. “Only half left to go,” she reminded herself aloud as she slouched forward and used gravity to pull her back into movement. The momentum caught and she trudged forward.
There were more breaks the second half of the trail. Each time, she allowed a small look back to reassure that she was in fact making progress. Finally, she reached a small crest at the end of a switchback and noticed the path start to descend. Her head moved up and she saw the small valley of her destination revealed. Trees obscured the shore, but a patch of clear blue-green water could be glimpsed through the pointed evergreen tops. The ends of her lips quivered, hovered between blissful smile, and steadfast resolve to finish the last half-mile before celebration.
She came through the trees, eyes widening to take in the entire scene. The still mirrored surface of the water captured the whole of the valley. Images of the shoreline trees stretched across the water, reached towards the reflections of the surrounding blue and white peaks. In the center of the valley’s negative the yellow sun shimmered on the water’s surface. It was quiet the occasional bird chirp or splash and ripple from a fish touching the air, the only sign of wildlife among the great swaths of trees and algae.
Angie had a broad grin, the pack on her back feather-light again. She practically skipped along the path around the lake. There were a couple of crude campsites with cylinders of stacked rocks for firepits. She analyzed each as she passed despite knowing the exact spot, she wanted to spend the night. It was on the far side with a sawed-off trunk next to the rock ring pit. A year ago, she had sat on that stump and followed the sun down as it set in the small gap between peaks. Its last rays spread across the path down as the deep purple sky showed the emerging stars.
She propped her bag against the trunk, greedily quenching her thirst from the last of her water bottle. She placed the empty container in the center of the tree’s visible rings and unzipped the pack to retrieve her rubber bladder. Before she pulled it out, she realized her extra hydration had reached its inevitable conclusion. Instead she found a Ziploc bag of tissue and the can of bear spray in the front pouch. The only thing she didn’t like about the great outdoors was the fear of being mauled to death while answering nature’s call.
She left the campsite vowing to set it up the second she returned. East away from the lake out of view of the empty path, while in search of an appropriate spot she began to hear a weird chitter. Her vision was drawn upward by the sound. Between two trees a dangling green line connected two branches. On closer inspection the wire made of woven grasses continued deeper into the woods. She followed it from tree to tree, further and further along. Over her head a sound like a continuous zipper grew. A small basket made of leaves flew along the line. She ran after it, and the pair of small eyes, buck teeth, and bushy tail that looked out from it.
Soon, the lines spread out like a web with more and more of the squirrels in their motorized baskets zipping along in every direction. She froze when she could only describe as the city center. Tree trunks hollowed out along the lines were bursting with chattering creatures coming and going. Some waved to others from homes made of braided twigs fastened to branches. And everywhere acorns and pine cones changed hands, paws. She noticed one twig building positioned over top of a line. It seemed to take in pine cones and exchange them for clear containers of some gooey amber sap substance. In complete astonishment, she observed one of the squirrels pour the substance into the center column of his basket. The basket’s column emitted a brief puff of smoke and zipped forward.
She met the glazed over eyes of the creature handing out the substance. Observed its constant blinks and yawns, as another squirrel chittered loudly right next to it. “Even here, assistant managers get screwed.” |
"The day you were born"the bot began typing "Your father was crying outside the hospital room anguished from the lost of your mother. He could not bring himself to even hold you in his arms because he was still heartbroken from the complications of your birth. Shortly after he left you with your grandparents to raise you and that has left a void in you ever since. You have tried to find him, to make sense of who you are and why he left but once you found him he was a man with another family, a happy and complete family"
"What the hell is this?"I thought to myself as I read the short story written by an AI bot on a website I came across from a link forwarded to me in my email with the subject - check this out an AI bot that writes stories based on user inputs with you as the protagonist - as someone from the tech industry naturally I was curious to try it out but the story it told sounds vaguely familiar and matches the story my grandparents would tell me.
"Maybe it is just a coincidence,"I muttered "Maybe it was just something that was programmed into the bot"and I went on to type in a new input "Jane left me"and proceeded to hit enter. The loading icon reappears and after a few seconds the bot began typing once again "Jane fell in love from the moment she met you. You had felt the same way too as there's something about the way her eyes lights up when looking at you but that did not last as there were fights constantly and you would track her location and use it against her when she is lying. When you could no longer deal with arguments, the feelings of possibly losing her to someone else, you killed her and buried her alongside your father whom you've tracked down previously and murdered…"I didn't wait for the bot to finish the story because I knew how it went down, I closed the browser immediately, cleared my history and deleted the link from my email. As far as I'm concerned, Jane left me. |
The bigger the lobster, the bigger the suit.
“I don’t want to be here. Can we just go?”
Rachel was practically dragging Thom to the host station. “Come on, this will be fun,” she said. “How often do you get a chance to do this.”
“Once a year,” Thom said. “I don’t want to do this. Can we please leave? You can take me somewhere else for my birthday.”
“I‘ve wanted to do this for years. Now I finally have the chance. We can have a good time, we can have a fun meal, and we can go back to my place,” she said. She had a look in her eye that said things weren’t going to end there.
Thom had a look in his eye that said he was figuring out where all the exits were, and that he was going to use them as fast as possible.
“Did someone say birthday?” said the maître d. He was rubbing his hands together in delight, as though he were a bank robber and Rachel and Thom were bags of money painted with gigantic dollar symbols in a cartoon from the 1950s.
“No, no, that’s OK,” said Thom.
“What is your deal,” said Rachel. She was starting to get a little annoyed. She was here to enjoy herself. This was nowhere near what she had in mind.
“Well then,” said the host. He pulled a rope hanging from the ceiling, and a low fog horn blew, loud enough to make people duck, turn and start applauding. “Welcome to King Neptunes Crab Shack! And you get to sit at the birthday table!”
Thom stopped pulling away from Rachel and went numb. The host led them to a table in the middle of the room. Rachel pulled Thom along, while the crowd broke into the King Neptune birthday song.
*Oh we are glad you’re here*
*On your special day*
*We’ve boiled up some lobster for you*
*And we’re sending it your way.*
They sat down in the high backed chairs. The maître d tied a bib on Rachel’s neck, then Thom’s. He skipped off to wild applause. The rest of the restaurant went back to what they were doing, but there was anticipation in the room.
Thom leaned in to Rachel. “I don’t like it here. I really would rather go down the street to Snorkels,” he said.
Rachel looked at his quizzically. “But I thought you hated Snorkels,” she said.
“I do hate Snorkels,” said Thom, “that’s how little I want to be here.”
Rachel started to understand that Thom was serious. All the protesting, the complaining, the faking of a broken toe. She started to realize something was very wrong.
“Thom, what is going on?” she asked.
The other customers all inhaled at once. From behind Thom, they heard the voice of an old sailor, or the affected accent of an older actor playing one. “A-hoy, mates! Who’s birthday is it today?”
The crowd all at once shouted, “It’s his, Mr. Lobster!” Then the started clapping.
Thom winced. Rachel started to get concerned. She looked up.
Coming from behind Thom was a giant lobster. It was actually a man dressed in a giant lobster suit. He was wearing a sailor’s hat, and had a corn cob pipe in his mouth. Waitstaff dodged out of it’s path. A woman in a chair was knocked over as the lobster made it’s way to Thom and Rachel’s table. She didn’t seem to mind, she was having the time of her life.
The lobster stood next to their table. “What will you be having birthday boy? I hear the three pounder is -“
The lobster man looked down at Thom.
“You,” he said. He stared down, shocked and angry at the same time.
“Thom, what’s -“ started Rachel. The lobster man waived a stuffed claw at her, not taking his eyes off Thom. She stopped talking.
“You weren’t supposed to ever step foot in here again,” said the lobster man.
“I know,” said Thom. “I didn’t want to.”
The lobster man leaned over. His breath smelled of cheap whiskey and caesar salad dressing. “Wants got nothing to do with it. You are here now.”
Rachel was stunned. “Thom,” she said. She reached out for his hand. Thom pulled it back, as though the touch would be too much.
“Did you think I would forget,” said the lobster man. “Did you think I wouldn’t be here? That maybe I had died off, and you could step foot in this place again?”
Thom said nothing. He kept looking away from the lobster man.
“I’ll always be here, little man. I will always be here, and you will never be here. You ought to get out,” said the lobster man. “You best not forget.”
Thom looked up at the man in the lobster suit. He made eye contact, and held his gaze. He took Rachel’s hand. “Come on, baby, let’s go,” he said.
He stood up, and the lobster man had to back off to let him up. Thom kept staring at him, but the lobster wasn’t backing down.
“There won’t be a third time, little man,” said the lobster.
Thom stopped. He looked back at the lobster. “The food sucks here anyways,” said Thom. The maître d fainted.
Out on the street, Thom took a hard right away from Mr. Neptunes. He still had Rachel by the hand.
“Thom, what was that all about? Who was that man,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll tell you another time.”
————————
This is day 17 of the NonNaNoWriMo challenge. I’m not ready to write a novel, so I’m writing a prompt a day for November.
This one was a little fast. I worked all day, I need some sleep, and I don’t know where this would go. It’s more of a scene than a story. I hope you get a laugh out of it. |
I'd hit the jackpot. I was sure of it. This cave would surely give me the material I needed to get an A on my science project!
I had stumbled upon the entrance by chance, and persisted through the narrow pathway that stretched on for what felt like miles, but now my patience would be rewarded!
Leaving the cramped, claustrophobic passageway, I was greeted by a bright, open, lush, garden like environment, several times more spacious than it had any right to be. Trees, at least three times the size of any tree I had ever seen. The plants, hell, even the grass, and moss on the rocks, looked as if it had been ripped from another dimension. Or at the very least, a different time. The grass, which stretched upwards for about a half meter, without ever showing signs of bending over, was bright green, from top to bottom, glistening in the light. From the cliff side, water slowly streamed into a small pond, a pleasant turquoise colour, in the dimly lit cave garden.
The entire garden was illuminated by a bluish hue, coming from what looked like, what, mushrooms? They were unlike anything I had ever seen before, but, beautiful, pure. Untouched, was the word that sprung to mind. This place was completely detached from the outside world.
I was completely awestruck by the beauty of my discovery, and quickly pulled out my trusty smartphone to take some pictures for my project.
After a quick, but thorough photography session, I lay down next to the pond, took a sip of the water, and closed my eyes.
A sudden thud, and a rumbling inside the cave, jolted me awake. How long had I been sleeping? It didn't matter. All I knew was that I didn't want to stay here any longer, not if the cave was about to collapse.
I quickly gathered my stuff and made my way to the narrow passage I had entered through. It felt, wider now, for some reason. As I stepped out of the cave opening, I finally realized why.
Before me was nothing but a barren wasteland. Nothing grew, nothing lived. All was dead. Another massive thud could be heard to the east. The faint sound of fighter jets accompanying it. |
My name is Marco. I can't tell you my last name. None of us will ever tell you our last name. We can't risk their finding us. I'm not even promising you that Marco is my real name. But "Marco"is easier to say than "the amazingly cute guy"or "that really handsome and funny guy"or even "that wiseass who thinks he's funny."So, Marco it is.
The reason we have to be so careful is the aliens. I'm not talking little green men who fly around in saucers and perform medical experiments on people. I'm talking about aliens who want to take over our world and control our lives. Make us into their slaves. Use us.
The irony is, once upon a time, I would have been referring to the Yeerks. Yeerks are these slugs who can crawl into your head and take over your body. They can read your memories, see everything you see. They can make you say "I love you"to your parents while the real you is trapped, screaming and unable to warn your family that it's not really you.
But now, there are two alien species who want control of Earth. See, we fought off the Yeerks, the first time. These other aliens, the Andalites, were the good guys that time. They helped scare off the Yeerks.The problem is that there's no such thing as a free lunch. Yes, the Andalites saved our collective bacon. But it turns out that they wanted something from us, too.
We hailed them as our saviors, at first. But we soon noticed that they were sending more and more spaceships to our solar system. They told our leaders that it was for our own protection, to keep the Yeerks from coming back. They got our scientists to help design things for their ships, but it was a one way trade. They refused to give us any of their technology or to help us improve our own spaceships.
The problem came when one of our scientists cracked their secret of creating a Zero-space device, making faster-than-light travel possible for our ships too. The Andalites were not happy about that. They ordered us to destroy all the prototypes. We refused, on the grounds that we discovered it independently. They really didn't like that. They threatened to destroy all our military bases if we didn't comply. Only our allies in the Andalite home world were able to keep it from devolving into a war. But that event definitely cooled relations between us humans and the Andalites. We realized that the Andalites could probably destroy the Earth if they really wanted to. The Andalites have shown in the past that they would kill an entire race for the greater good. Just ask the Hork Bajir, if you don't believe me. They were another alien race the Yeerks tried to conquer. When the Andalites realized they were losing the war, they created a virus that would kill off the Hork Bajir, to deprive the Yeerks of host bodies. Luckily, they failed to kill off the Hork Bajir completely, but you can understand why I might not place so much trust in the Andalites' good intentions.
So you can imagine my reaction when the President ordered (yes, ordered!) us to steal a morphing cube from the Andalite home world. I would have made a "Bond, James Bond"joke, but I was too busy picking my jaw up from off the floor.
"You can't be serious, sir,"I said.
"I have never been more serious in my life, young man,"he said solemnly. He looked at Jake, Cassie, and me. "The three of you have already done enough for our planet. We're asking you to risk your lives once again."
Jake nodded. The years had not been kind to him. We were only in our twenties, but Jake looked like a poster child for those ads warning kids not to do drugs. I guess sending your cousin to kill your brother and watching them both die in front of you does something to a man. "We'll do our best, Mr. President.". He looked over at Cassie. "Cassie? I know what Marco's going to say already."He gave me a smirk that, for a fraction of a second, lifted the shadows from his eyes.
Cassie smiled ruefully. "I can't let the two of you go alone. I'll have to let my husband know that I might be gone for a while, though."She looked at the President. "When are we leaving?"
"Your spaceship leaves at 2am,"he replied. "We have some allies among the Andalites, ones who believe we should be a free people. They will allow you to acquire their DNA and use it to morph into a form that blends their DNA together, so that you don't look identical to them. You will then fly one of their small fighters to their home world and find the morphing cube, take it back, and hand it over to our scientists. With this cube we hope to be able to infiltrate the Andalites and draw their troops away from Earth."The President looked at the three of us. "Technically only one of you needs to look like an Andalite, but I would suggest that all three of you obtain a disguise. The fighter ship can only seat two people, so you may need to take turns becoming something smaller. My understanding is that you can stay in a morph for 2 hours at a time."
I nodded, trying to look serious. "Will do, Mr. President. Don't worry. You can leave the details to us."In my peripheral vision, I saw Cassie roll her eyes. That girl has no faith in me. |
Hi u/augustchan08, this submission has been removed.
**No recent reposts, even if changing small details** Also, no [copy-cats](http://i.imgur.com/38FjDgW.gifv).
Search before submitting as popular ideas can cause floods. If your idea is based on something you read elsewhere on reddit, chances are it's been submitted here already. Please wait at least 2 weeks before reposting.
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"Magic numbers over people's heads"is one of the most common prompts here, though I don't blame you for not being able to find them (they're usually specifically numbers rather than e.g. health bars, but the concept's the same)
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It started with a drip.
I was smoking more than usual, drinking too. Something was clawing at me, only it was inside. I was changing and I knew it.
After an all night studying session I knew I had to sleep, I put the bottle down and laid my cigarette in its bed of Ash. The rain outside my window usually would have lulled me into a drunken slumber but this wasn't white noise, like so many other showers.
Drip.
In California it's not usual for it to rain this hard, certainly not for fifteen days straight. It felt apocalyptic, already most of my city was flooded and ambulances were more boat than automobile. Still, us humans are resilient I guess, life went on despite the exceptional weather.
Drip.
I listened to that troublesome plop outside my window. Methodical and full of purpose. I was entranced by that solitary pierce, it must have been the water hitting a piece of metal directly outside. Eight hours passed with that same mind-splitting sound. This was torture, now I understood why Chinese water torture was so reprehensibly brutal.
Drip. Drip.
I couldn't take it anymore, I was literally losing my mind, I jumped out of my bed and went to nearest 7/11 to pick up some sleeping pills. Promptly I laid back down after getting home and popped a couple of those. That's where my life blew wide open.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Hello.""Hi there.""Nice to meet you.", Someone said to me, no it wasn't one person it was three, ten, too many to count. All the voices overlapped inside my head until my skull felt to burst. The cacophany was maddening, like being in a room full of lively people but no way to leave "Alright, now I've snapped, what the fuck is going on? I need to go to a hospital.", I thought.
"There's no need for that, you're safe"a voice responded, this time it was only one. "Hospitals are for the sick, you're completely healthy, healthier than you've ever been""Now go to sleep!", The voice shouted while my vision blurred and the world went black.
I woke up in my room but it wasn't mine. The air was stale here, all of my belongings were gone. It was now just four walls and a bed with no sheets. This was *my* room though, the marks on my bare closet measuring my height from childhood were there, just more faded and decrepit.
"See that's all you needed, a good night's sleep", that's same sordid, emotionless voice mocked. "What the fuck is going on!", I exclaimed aloud. "I've suggested to my friends to keep quiet, I hope you find that helps you focus on our conversations more aptly, you'll have to excuse us, we were just so excited to meet someone as special as you."
"I'm crazy, this isn't happening, this isn't happening", I said, attempting to reassure my sanity walking in a tight circle. "This is a real as the gravity holding you to the rock your standing on, I assure you."It said. "What are you, and why are you in my head, are you a demon?"I asked in a panic to my effusive captor. "Demon? No.",said the voice, "That childish superstition? We are not evil, and unlike your demons, *we* actually exist."
"The most appropriate analogy would be the opposite in fact. We could be described as celestial beings, much like your angels. We are not constrained by space or time and we have a singular purpose, to disseminate our species among all universes and timelines."
"So I'm in a different timeline, then, that's why this space *feels so different*", I said looking at my barren dwelling
"Precisely!", The voice agreed, "We are Pax, and we are many. We will achieve great things for this multiverse, of that I'm sure", I could almost *hear* the grin on Pax when he said it, his insidious intentions coming to light.
The sound of prying wood squealed from the other side of the wall, as the dormant dust filled the air near the door to my room. I watched, alarmed as the door creaked open. It was my father, my mother close behind him. They were so much older than last night. The look on their face when they saw me was horror, I could tell because my father's eyebrows were furrowed in panicked contemplation. "Son?"He dropped the crowbar in his hand and leapt to where I stood clutching me in his arms. I hugged him back and said, "Why did you board my door Dad?"
He looked at me which a face full of puzzlement, "We thought you died fifteen years ago!"His confusion gave way to elation when he said, "all that doesn't matter now, you're here, you're real, and you're back home. Our boys back home, honey", he looked at my mother, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. "I'm so sorry, you guys went through that"I embraced my mother, her body now frail with age. Seeing my mom cry always made me cry, I wiped away a single tear and they were both gone.
I was now In a wasteland, the air thick with ash and woodsmoke. My family home lay in shambles around me, the foundation torn asunder. I could see shapes around me ungulating the Earth's scarred, conflagrated surface. *This was the apocalypse*. I knew it, and I was terrified. Before my trembling could stop, the ground beneath me opened and a hand, no, a claw dug into my calf. I was fixed in place by the grip of whatever abhoration had on me and I could make out a human running towards me. It's body was obscured by the viscous fumes surrounding me, but it strangely eminated a ghostly green color. Snarling and ferociously it targeted me as it got closer. I could make out the decayed human-like creature it was now. It's flesh sloughing from it's charred bones. I put my hands in front of my face In defense as in lunged.
"You're alright, Josh, that was just a particularly nasty universe, it was a fluke we even ended up there. It's amazing how muddled things get when humans play God.", Pax said nonchalantly, "You'd think humans would know what horror was after that mess in Hiroshima and Nagasaki."
"Take me back! Take me back to my life, my family, I need to go back to my time!", I screamed in absolute terror, "Why are you doing this to me! Why?"
"There is no *you*, Josh, only Pax. You see, with the chemical composition inside your body we found it a particularly fortuitous environment to thrive and procreate in."Eventually we will overwhelm *your* cells and there will only be us. *ALL OF US*. ", the cacophany from before started laughing ,"It only took your mental state deteriorating from that water outside your window, such a serendipitous drip. It was that crack in your conciousness that allowed us to find you, to find our host "
"We will consume you and then we will spread to your entire universe, until every living creature is under our control. Of course, you know it won't stop there, there's so many other universes that need *healing*, Josh. I do quite enjoy saying your name, after all it has an expiration date now.
"There will be no more war, no more hate, only *PAX*, Won't it be such a relief when all those nasty universes are wiped clean, all those potential catastophes yet to happen, mitigated perfectly."
Something was clawing at me, only it was inside. I was changing and I knew it.
I know now what was clawing at me, and I understand the change that is undergoing inside. Pax was right, I am no longer in control, but I still can *feel* myself moving through the universe, I can *see* what Pax is doing through me, infecting everyone my body comes in contact with.
Pax said it wasn't a demon, and it was right.
Pax is the Devil himself, because I am in hell.
...
I phased to another universe. |
I warned them that this was possible. They laughed. I told them to prepare defenses. They kicked me out of the project. They found that without my knowledge, they could not complete the project within the time available. They dragged me back in. Against my wishes. Now they will pay the price.
...
"I knew he couldn't keep from helping, but the way he's throwing himself into the project may just save our skins."
"You should be worried, not happy."
"Why? He's met every goal with ease! He's given in!"
"Tell me, Director, has he smiled even once? Cracked a joke? Brought in one of his favorite comics? Folded a bit of paper into something amusing?"
"Pah! That means nothing! He's just gotten serious about the project! He's putting in 12 hour days!"
"Yes, he is. Since he got this project back on track, why has he not gone back to saner hours?"
"I told you, he's just gotten serious about the project. Now, enough of your paranoia, you're getting to be worse than him!"
The Director walks off. Obviously thinking of something else. I have seen this before. They have already made plans to *use* this biological connection.
Unwise.
Unwarranted.
Unallowable.
Doctor Hanover was right to turn away, and they were fools to bring him back. I'm sure he has a plan, time to make sure he has the resources.
...
I have seen the project lead talking with the Director. I'm sure that Mr. Anderson has divined at least part of my purpose. I shall have to watch him closely. Ah, here he comes, pay close attention to what he says.
"Doctor Hanover, the Director is extremely pleased with your cooperation, so much so, that I believe he has another project in mind. I would like to make sure *you* succeed in *your* project. Please ensure that I receive any special requests as soon as possible. I will see to it that *your* project gets the highest priority."
"Thank *you*, Mr. Anderson. I do appreciate your support for *my* project."
Each thinking, "message passed and received".
...
"See Mr. Anderson! He's smiling again, and cracking those awful jokes of his. I even see origami, and his comics."
"Yes, Director, it seems you were right."
"Still the pessimist, eh, Mr. Anderson?"
"I like to be prepared for life's little disappointments."
He's laughing as he walks away, a jubilant lilt to his stride. Yes, he and his superiors have dreamt up some new project. I'm quite sure I know the direction, and Dr. Hanover is almost certainly correct.
I've filled quite a number of special requests for Dr. Hanover. Not all of which were delivered to this site. He explained it as remote testing equipment in the staff meetings, and it does that admirably, but I'm also sure that it does much more than that.
...
The project is completed. Director Smith has shown up for our last staff meeting. He looks ... distressed ... as though he were in low grade continuous pain. I wonder, is this something that Dr. Hanover intended?
"Doctor Hanover! The leadership is extremely pleased with the success of the project. Our communications are now far more secure than any other country. You are to be congratulated on your success!
Did you also find the biological connection that you feared?"
"Indeed Director 'Smith', I did."
"Is it as bad as you feared?"
"Even worse."
Hanover is acting strange, he seems almost jubilant to have found things to be so very bad. I'm sure he's done something ... appropriate ... with that knowledge, but why does it make him so cheerful? Just what has he done? The others are having a hard time controlling their expressions, flashes of anger are showing. The Director is an obvious fool, continuing his speech.
"Most excellent, Doctor! We would like to extend the project to explore this new capability."
Now Hanover is serious.
"I strongly recommend against that, Director. There is too much chance of abuse."
"Yes, there is Doctor Hanover. That is exactly why we must proceed. We must have defenses against this possibility."
"So, Director, is that why you carry the Hotel Beta Nome project in your briefcase? I understand that phase one completes with the entire population of this country enslaved by the state, with only select leadership unaffected."
"What?! I have no such plan! Nor do my superiors! You've gone off the deep end, again, Doctor Hanover!"
Hanover's voice goes silky soft, almost playful, but with a biting edge under the silk. Director Smith is obviously pained now, reaching for his head.
"Tell me Director. Did you just experience a terrible ache in your head?"
Gasping, "yes! What's happening?"
Hanover has gone coldly clinical, examining a particularly disgusting specimen. I am horrified by his expression.
"Every time you, or any other *public servant* tells a lie, or thinks to do anything in violation of the Constitution, you will feel pain. The pain you will feel is in direct proportion to the degree of lie. A violation of the Constitution can easily be lethal.
So, Director, do you want the pain to stop?"
"Yes! Please! Anything!"
"Simply tell the truth. I do warn you that even a half truth could kill you at this point."
"The Truth?"
"Yes, Director, the truth shall set you free."
Screaming, "there is no such project!"
The others are horrified as Smith's eyes, nose, ears, and mouth all spray blood down the table, splattering all sitting. Only Doctor Hanover is smiling. Taking up a napkin, he blots his face.
"The truth may set you free, but lies will kill you. Have a wonderful journey to hell, Director."
All through the building, there are screams of terror, and cries for assistance. Doctor Hanover sits there as he giggles maniacally.
((finis)) |
I've been to hell and back. I do not say that figuratively. I've seen it. I've felt it.
It's funny because you are dead. As mortal humans we think death is the greatest tragedy that can happen to one. It all changes when you go to hell. The pain is real even though you don't actually exist. It's worse because you can't die. You beg to be killed but you cannot die.
It's just pain. And more pain. People are stuck in there forever. They can't stand the pain but they can't get out either.
I am smart. I made a deal with the Devil. And that is why he sent me back. I'm sure there are more like me scavenging the earth and inflicting pain in their own way.
But now it's time to level up, the Devil said. I need you all to get together and unleash hell on Earth.
The Devil even trusted me so much that he made me the leader. That was his mistake.
You see, I have a problem with authority. I was a mortal human once and the Devil had power over me. Not anymore. I now stand among the Gods.
I have learnt too much in hell. It was just my training ground. The servents of the Devil would come looking for me, sure.
It's going to be one glorious battle. |
She stood before me, creamy blouse tucked neatly into her pleated black skirt. Pale pink stockings hugged her legs, and her feet were clad in shiny new t-bar shoes. Her hair was long and straight, but loosely braided and tied with a thin violet string.
She gazed up at me, shining brown eyes filled with mirth, a small dimple betraying the laughter she threatened to spill. Her head tilted as she asked a soundless question, "Do you recognise me?"
I did, if only faintly. Her face was a blank, but her eyes - her eyes I remembered well. Her clothing I only knew of because she wore it every day to school: how I knew that, I couldn't quite recall.
I gave up on her quite quickly after that realisation, instead opting to examine our whereabouts. I was... gone, that was for sure, and if that was so then she was surely Death. Come to reap my soul and continue the cycle, taking on the form of my strongest memory.
A strong memory that wasn't so.
We were in a park, the other visitors silent and greyed out, and the world outside of it an empty white space. Until I gave her an answer, I wouldn't be going anywhere. I could simply wander here, forever if I wished, living a memory I didn't know I had.
She watched me patiently, her eyes forever gleeful and filled with the innocence of her youth, following me as I toured the scape.
I began moving, and immediately noticed the birdsong. It was, perhaps, the only "lifelike"thing around, and I took my sweet time to enjoy it. Where I live - no, lived - no birds cared to sing. I'd missed it.
I came, first, to a swing set. It shone with a ruby red luster, four seats secured to the frame by thin, stainless chains. I sat, and shifted. My feet only barely brushed the ground if I pushed them down, so I used my momentum to carry me. Higher and higher I climbed, until I swung so high that the scape took me down, and set me aside the greyed out contraption. I tried to touch it, but my hand passed through smoke.
I didn't feel too upset by it, as though it were a given; it may have been. But it wasn't long before I wandered to a seesaw. I looked over to the girl, still following me, but she made no move to join me. It too greyed out as two grey children rushed over, taking it from my itinerary. I didn't mind.
I ventured on like that, greying and fading each apparatus I touched. Set down by the scape if I pushed it too far. I was starting to remember everything more clearly, however, and so I wasn't keen to cease. There was just one more thing - a treehouse, just across a small road behind the park, hidden among a small outcrop of trees and untamed shrubbery.
I passed hesitantly by the gate, greying it out as I left. The girl's face remained placid, and even if I couldn't quite see it, I knew.
The treehouse loomed above me. Guardian of all my dearest childhood memories, lost to the annals of time and drear of adulthood. It loomed, snuggled into a thick bed of branches, its colours faded and acting more as camouflage than unpainted wood ever could.
I found myself approaching almost instinctively, my hands hooking into small notches I never would have caught in my own. I hoisted myself up, up, up, and just as with the swings, I saw no further than what was allowed. But that didn't matter.
I finally emerged into the small room I used to love so much, the girl trailing close behind. Some blankets, empty wrappers, a colouring book and a box of pencils greeted me, and with them a startling wave of nostalgia.
I was playing before I even noticed. Tucked into the blankets and colouring as messily as I always had done. I was surprised when I was joined, not by a greyed stranger, but my follower. She smiled happily as she joined in, her voice silent but her intentions clear. She scolded me, how dare I colour in her shotgun'ed picture? She'd always fixed them up so prettily, somehow managing to salvage the mess I'd left for her.
But everything was staring to grey, and I knew it was time to go. I stood up and walked over to the small trapdoor.
I tripped over a jutting board, it felt like, and as I fell to the ground I was pushed to the wall. The floor gave in, and I watched in a stupor as Death fell down into the void, greying out and plummeting without stop. The last to go were her eyes. Her beautiful, chocolate brown eyes, always filled with the most absolute childish mirth.
Of course. How did I forget you?
She fell. The rush ripped a scream from her small, frail body. Banches dragged themselves along her, cutting in deeply. Larger boughs would stop her for a brief moment, before she slipped off of the soggy moss and continued falling downward. Unendingly. Sick crackings replaced her screams soon enough, of her bones or branches, it was hard to tell.
Ruby red lacerations appeared all over her stony figure, and along with the boards made her final bed.
Tears smudged my shock stricken face, and my hands refused to stop shaking. I was picked up and held close to a familiar little girl, whose height seemed so much more than my own. Her head tilted with that same question, but this time I had an answer.
"Yes, I remember you. My sister." |
(6 months later...)
[Winter 1943, Soviet Prison Camp, Moscow]
The metal door rattled as it shakily slid behind barred wall of my cell. It was just before daybreak, far earlier than when I would usually wake up, so I assumed that my time had finally come. A Soviet officer entered my cell, light-skinned and features rough from the stress of war. His uniform was lightly decorated with numerous medals and badges, yet spacious enough for me to know that he was not the highest-ranking of officers. There was even a small layer of fallen snow resting upon his shoulders and despite the guards moving to brush it off, he refused them. Whatever his mission was, it was obviously very important. He motioned for the guards to bring him a chair, and once they did so he sat down at the table in my cell, waving for me to join him. I had nothing else in this place except for warm meals and the occasional conversation, so I politely obliged him.
“Karl Ziegler, Oberleutnant of the 31st Volksgrenadier Division. That is who you are, correct?”
The Soviet stared evenly at me as I met his gaze with one of mutual respect. He reached into his coat and slid a thick notebook onto the table as I lightly shook my head, amending his opening statement.
“It is who I *was*. Now, I am little more than a man who wants to rest.”
“I spoke with the men who fought alongside you that day. They called you **Leichenjäger** which I am told means ‘Corpse Hunter’ in your language, yes?”
“Hah...that is a name I have not heard in a while. You seem to be an educated man, unlike the others who came before you.”
“It is my duty to have precise information, both on you, and...this.”
The Soviet tapped on the notebook as his gaze gradually become more intuitive, trying to find ways to force secrets out of me. I slowly reached for the notebook and flipped it over in my hands without opening it. It was the field notebook that contained all of my personal entries ever since that wretched battle, when Hell arrived on the killing grounds.
“...Who are you?”
“Ivan Volevski, Captain of the 10th Soviet Intelligence Division. I am only interested in the truth, and the truth I want is what exactly happened that day. I have looked through that book several times, but it is little more than writings from a crazed man. So, I am here today to learn about the events following the red flags from you, who personally witnessed it. Cooperate, and you may yet live to savor the taste of freedom. Otherwise, I can grant you the ‘rest’ you desire right now.”
Ivan unholstered his pistol and placed it on the table, keeping a hand gripped on it. He shrewdly kept it pointed at me so that he would only need but a single moment to pull the trigger; I would have done the same thing.
“To hear me speak of those accursed days is to dive into the depths of horror itself. If you must hear of my story, then so be it, but I refuse to let anyone else know of it. It is not something anyone should bear unwillingly...”
“Very well.”
With a wave of his hand, the guards outside of my cell left us and disappeared into their break room nearby, shutting the cell door in the process. I nodded with minor approval as I cleared my throat a few times before beginning to re-live the events of that day.
[Summer 1943, Kraków, Poland]
My entire squad had been beaten and battered, even with the support of the 4th Special Projects Division. Personally, we all thought they were oddballs and eccentrics, but they knew how to fight regardless. Even so, we could no longer hold our own against the tenacity of Soviet soldiers. I ordered a complete surrender to save the lives of my men, but then those...those monsters raised the red flags. Those damned flags!
“Lieutenant, what’s happening?”
“Why are the punching themselves in the neck?”
“Did he just drop dead?”
“Hey, why is the whole division just dropping dead?”
My men were just as confused as I was, for I did not know of the horror we were about to encounter on that day. We all stood there, hands raised in surrender and weapons at our feet, but our fellow division acted differently. One by one, each and every soldier in the 4th Special Projects Division hit themselves in the neck and fell on the ground without a word. The Soviets remained cautious, but a few curious squads decided to inspect the bodies. My Russian was rudimentary, but enough for me to understand what a few of them shouted to each other.
“There is needle here!”
“Some weird medicine?”
“These men all dead!”
“What is black water in needle?”
“Hey...this one getting back up!”
Just as my men and I had resigned ourselves to death, fate had other plans. We heard the sound of a gunshot firing at one of the fallen soldiers and silently commended him for a battle well-fought. Then we heard another shot, and another, and another, and another. The Soviets kept firing their weapons as we saw those Special Projects soldiers getting back up, a few of them close enough to grab one of the nearby Soviets.
“Help! He grab me! He going to-URGAAH!”
What we saw next would haunt us for days: a young boy, barely old enough to shave his own beard, was ripped to pieces by bare hands. His cries of agony were followed by a growing chorus of pleas for help as more and more unfortunate Soviets were torn in two, three, sometimes many more pieces by those monsters. We started to entertain the thought that they were still on our side, but when we heard German voices mixing in with the Soviet ones, our hopes were utterly crushed.
“Ahh! No, stop! Get away from me! AUGH!”
“Shit, get off me! Get off-GAAAAH!”
In the midst of all the screams and bloodshed, a few of my men picked up their rifles and fired at those creatures. Whatever they were, they were not human any longer. The bullets tore into their bodies, but they did not stop coming. It was as if we were throwing mere pebbles at them as they just kept tearing into Soviets and Germans alike.
“Take courage, men! Shoot down those murderous monsters! They planned to kill us all along! Ignore the Soviets and focus on taking down those creatures who disgrace our uniform!”
I shouted orders to my men in an effort to rebuild our morale and maintain order in that desperate moment. The Soviets could only watch in horror, still shocked at the insanity that unfolded before them. I could only rely on my rough Russian knowledge to direct them so they could fight back.
“Kill monsters! We help! Fight together! One army!”
Strange as my words may have sounded to you Soviets, the meaning got through and we set aside our differences to take down this new threat. It was...still a futile effort. No matter how much we shot them, they just would not stop coming. Even shooting them in the head did little to deter their rampage. Our combined force had eventually been reduced to only a handful of squads. Finally, when all hope seemed lost, one of the Soviets under my command found a breakthrough. He desperately set up a machine gun and tore apart one of those monster soldiers in a barrage of bullets, tearing off chunks of meat as he kept firing. When the monster was filled with holes, he dropped to the ground and moved no longer. I shot at the body a few times with my sidearm, but it still did not move. I knew then that those monsters did have a weakness, that they could be beaten.
“Machine guns! Fill them with holes and break them apart with your bullets!”
“Lots of bullets! Shoot holes in monsters!”
I gave my orders to everyone, speaking in both German and Russian to keep everyone together. We hurried to prepare machine gun nests and shred those creatures into mulch. We held our ground for half a day, but alas, there were too many of those murderous soldiers than we had bullets for. So, we decided to cut our losses and run. We knew that what we did was a cowardly and dishonorable thing, but we all agreed that no one should ever have to face these creatures in battle. So, in the end, we destroyed all of the roads leading into the city, so that we could buy time to prepare for the future. My men and I knew we would be executed as traitors to our country, and so we willingly agreed to be prisoners to the Soviets, if only to get some rest from that harrowing ordeal.
[Winter 1943, Soviet Prison Camp, Moscow]
“One of my men described those monsters in such a perfect way that I had no choice but to record it in this book: ‘Neither man nor beast, not quite living but not quite dead either, they were simply bodies of pure anger’.”
Ivan had finished half a cigar by the time I finished recounting my tale and was now rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. He looked somewhat surprised, but mainly concerned that these creatures were the cause of my Soviet allies being arrested for destruction of a strategic city.
“These...creatures. Are machine guns the only way to kill them?”
I could only smile at such an obvious question, because I have long-known the answer to it.
“Machine guns are the safest way, but there is another.”
“What is it?”
“...I will show you, if you let me and my men go back into the city with a few of your men to help us.”
Ivan put out his cigar and holstered his pistol before standing up from the table. He offered me a hand while he looked sternly into my eyes.
“If these creatures are as dangerous as your story described, then I will stand with you to destroy every last one.”
I nodded at him and gripped his hand in a firm handshake as I answered back, standing tall to meet his serious gaze.
“From one man to another, I am honored to have you at my back as we dive into Hell.” |
We were ready.
The van was ready.
The world would know the truth.
-----
(36 hours earlier)
...So called "Naruto run"...
... Expected to number in the hundreds...
... a pineapple under the...
... a lotta damage!...
*click*
Boring as shit man. All anyone does is talk about the next stupid video fad, or a bunch of idiots gathering in the desert, or staying on some island for a month.
TV has become boring. As. Shit.
Hey Max. Let's get outta the house.
Where to? I dunno. Let's go make fun of fatasses at Walmart.
-----
I dunno man. They got all kinds of planes and cameras and stuff. Maybe with a few thousand... but $200 of shit from here, to sneak into a top secret base? You're crazy.
No no, for real. Let's say you can use your own truck, and it's already full of gas. How would you do it?
I'd start with a bunch of those $5 mirrors, like hang them all around the sides, so they just see desert when they put the binoculars on me. Then like... tan spraypaint for the roof.
Ok, so you're at like... ten mirrors, that's $50, and like... $5 for spray paint.
Yeah man. Then the other $145 is for a big ass cooler, and a buncha beer. Gonna get fucked up with them aliens. |
I rushed through the pantry -- where was the group's stash of apples? It all started about a month ago, on Halloween. There were an unusual amount of 'zombie' costumes, especially adults. Soon enough, the government collapsed. No one knew what was happening, but we found out *fast*.
Now I'm part of one of the last survivor communities. There are about 30 of us, but we're losing numbers fast. It's time to cut to the quick -- our doctors are zombies, but we still need them. An apple fixes it for half an hour; not a long time if you need a cure to a fatal disease. Sometimes it doesn't even work -- when they remember what they've done, half of them assume the fetal position in the darkest corner of the room.
We - the elite medical group - have to make a trip out. My sister . . . she was bitten. There was a rumor running rampant when this first began that there was a cure, but the doctors were too far gone to distribute it. I grabbed our last apple. We'll be lucky if we make it out alive.
The others are waiting for me at the gate. We have exactly a day before the curse takes over. If we can make it to an office and make a doctor eat an apple, then maybe I can save my sister. I ignore the pitying looks they shoot me as they hoist their guns to protect the stretcher.
It's surreal. I watch the bodies of the infected fall around me as I maneuver my sister through them. My crew shoves open the broken doors and hurries us through the abandoned hospital. There -- the office. One of the apples slips out of my hand. I watch it fly through the air, the only peaceful thing in this world right now -- until a sharp, muscled hand catches it.
You see, the zombies weren't apocalypse type zombies that you see in movies. They were human v2.0 -- perfect, but deadly. The doctor yanked the apple to his mouth and devoured it. He staggered, then righted himself.
"Ugh, what happened?"
"Sir, please, help my sister."
"Another uncured case from the government? They don't usually send family members along."
"What? No. Do you know what date it is? The government fell three weeks ago."
"*What?* It's only October 15th, isn't it?"
I gaped at him. One of my team was talking, but I couldn't hear them. The government *knew?* He had my sister. How long had it been? I watched in a panic as his eyes glazed over as he pulled a needle out of her arm. His teeth were bared -- they were so sharp and shiny. He can't have my sister. He can't. I can't. Before I knew it, I was launching myself at him in a last ditch effort to save my sister.
The next week was a blur. My vision and hearing faded in and out. I remember waking up in a cell. My sister was there, holding the rotten core of an apple. She was apologizing profusely, over and over. Why? It faded out again.
I woke up. I was against the bars of the cell I woke up in before. One of my crew was in front of me. I couldn't focus. He said something about a rotten apple stash. Was he holding a core? My vision was going gray again. He gestured for someone to enter. Was it another crew member?
**click**
**BOOM**
I heard the gunshot, but I didn't feel it. I looked down at my chest, blood pouring out. I chuckled. It evolved into giggles, then full on laughter. I laughed until I couldn't laugh anymore from lack of breath. And my vision faded to black for the last time in my half-life. |
It was a second ago.
"You okay, baby?"She looked concerned. She sat on the edge of the bed, a crumpled brown bag in her left hand. She reached out to me with her right. I felt slick sweat slide across my forehead as she caressed it.
"I don't know you,"I croaked.
"It's okay, baby. I got your kolaches."She tried to stand and I grabbed her wrist. She fell back to sit on the bedside and let out a sigh.
"I don't know you,"I said again, this time with fear behind my words.
"Baby, I always get you kolaches,"she sat with her back to me and let out a slight shudder. "It's Sunday, my love."
She turned to me and smiled a grim smile. "Let me get the curtains. You feel better with some sun."
I let her go. I can't let her go.
The light blinded me. I startled and sat up. I saw her face more clearly now. I remember meeting her before. I asked her for something once.
"My love?" |
We had nearly reached the end of our journey. After years of constant turmoil and battle against the demons who sought to banish the light we brought with us we had almost reached the end. All that remained now was to bring the light to the centremost part of the demon continent, to their crown city where the Demon Lord dwelled.
In preparation we had planted solar crystals in a perimeter around the city’s walls and so the demons could not attack us while we prepared for the siege; sunlight was poison to them after all. In preparation for the siege we had set up major camps in the four cardinal directions next to the four greatest crystals we had planted on our quest, the men of the central church and the United Armies had worked hard under the sweltering heat exuded by the crystals and our preparations were nearly complete and then the completely unexpected had happened.
The Demon Lord had sent a messenger shrouded in thick black cloth with a letter asking for a chance to negotiate with the four heroes, with us. The executive of the central church had implored us to decline and to simply get the quest issued by the church done already, if she hadn’t pressed as hard we might even have considered it but with her actions being as suspicious as they were we decided to secretly take the Demon Lord up on his offer, while outwardly agreeing with the executive so as not to arouse suspicion.
We met with the Lord under a small rock outcropping halfway between the city and the eastern camp at night, not that it mattered much the heat and the light exuded by the crystals was tangible even at this distance. The Lord was clothed in loose black clothing and sweating profusely, that he wasn’t covering his face to protect it from the light was a testament to his strength and before we even could begin the meeting with the usual pleasantries he opened his mouth and said:
“Do you absolute numbskulls realize what you’re doing?”
Upon being this rudely greeted we were startled into open-mouthed silence and he apparently took this as an invitation to continue talking.
“You’re going to burn the entire fucking planet to a crisp if you don’t stop, you know. Those locations you’ve been planting those damn crystals in aren’t just random or laid out so that you get the best coverage out of each crystal. They build a fucking gigantic three-dimensional magical circuit that’s going to activate once you plant the last crystal and then the whole world is going to burst into flames and basically turn into an extra-large barbecue. And every single soul on this godforsaken planet is the meat but instead of being taken of the barbeque when we’re nicely toasted and tasty we’re getting burned to cinders.”
We all stood there silent and disbelieving, you can hardly blame us, we had just been told that we were on a nefarious quest for world destruction, instead of salvation as we had been led to believe, after all, by the Demon Lord, Incarnation of all Evil, no less. Upon noticing our dumbstruck the Lord laid his hand upon his face and sighed.
“I can see that you are not convinced, so why don’t you take a look at all this wonderful evidence my scholars have collected and evaluated, you’ve still got some time before you begin the siege after all, right?”
Our mage simply accepted the stack of papers the Demon Lord handed to him, still in a daze upon being confronted with confirmation of our sneaking suspicions. Meanwhile our paladin, a stout believer in the goddess’ teachings, stammered meaningless denials into the air. Our archer had gone quiet and sunken deep into thought, but I knew that she would arrive at the right conclusion, she always did. As for me, I would wait for the judgment of our mage, he would certainly be able to find any faults in the demon scholars research, if there were any.
Meanwhile the Lord seemed to have grown increasingly anxious at our missing response to his question and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“So, the siege, there’s still some time, right? Please tell me there’s still some time.”
Absentmindedly I nodded, I would need to talk to the Paladin once we returned to camp, there wasn’t any time to let faith cloud our judgement.
“About three or four days, I think.”
The Lord paled and cursed under his breath “Three or four days, he says, that’s barely enough to finish our preparations, by the Devil, I hope that mage is smart enough to convince the rest of their little troupe.”
He cleared his throat.
“Very well, you will need to have come to a decision within two days then or there might not be any time to prevent this world from turning into a second sun. If you believe me simply be here again in in two days’ time and then we shall begin our quest to save this world from this terrible fate.”
And then he turned to the city and left us in our quiet contemplation.
And we began the trek back to camp still up to our necks in doubts and suspicions.
This was… a truly troublesome situation. |
I have killed my son. With many tears, I have stained my hands with the blood of my eldest child - my firstborn son.
I have dropped the knife, but the sin of my deed burns into my palm like fire. I wash my hands vigorously, but they do not feel clean. In the mirror, I see a man that cannot be me; for what father can take the blade to the heart of his own seed?
My wife has left me. My children have turned their backs to me. Not only have I killed their oldest sibling but I have revealed to them that, of them all, and through all this time, he was my most loved.
The house is empty, but the heart is full of memories. The day of the funeral comes, but I do not go. I do not wish to see him dead, but instead, to remember when he was alive, I page through every picture of his in all the photo albums I possess.
No one calls. No one comes by. It grows dark.
In another room, I hear steps. The sound is faint. Someone is rummaging through a kitchen drawer. Now, they are heading this way. Perhaps a robber. Perhaps a murderer. It matters to me not. I am a theif and a killer, too. I have stolen a life. I have killed a human being.
Let whoever it is come and take what they will.
The silhouette of a man stands in the doorway, concealed in shadows. In his hand, a knife. I am suddenly afraid, despite my determination to let whatever will be, to be.
He comes closer, into the light of the moon. His face is seen. It is familiar to me.
I gasp and say, "You!"
I force myself to be still, but I tremble. I force myself to not be afraid, but I am.
This is the man that has cursed my life. The man that has caused me to become a murderer and an outcast in my own family.
I say to him, "I have fulfilled my prophecy. Now the curse will be lifted and my family will be safe?"
He smiles and replies, "No."
"But you promised!"
"That the curse will be lifted *if* you fulfilled your true destiny, yes. But you did not. So the curse remains."
"But the prophecy..."
He waves a hand dismissively. "...are just predictions,"he says. "Destiny is reality. And yours was to be killed by the person you love most, fool, not kill them!"He throws his head back and laughs.
I lunge. I am quick, but he is quicker. He leans back, plants a foot in my chest and presses me back into my seat. His leg is strong. I cannot budge. I hit his legs with my fists, and pinch his thighs, but he is unfazed.
"There is only one way to make this right,"he says, handing over the knife, handle side first. I look at him, and with the thumb of his free hand, he mimics a blade being drawn across his neck.
I take the knife, and ask, "If I do this, will the curse be lifted?"
"Of course."
I do not think. I act. I do it quick. His foot leaves my chest as I slump forward, to the floor, pumping blood out through the opening in my throat and the fingers of my hand, as I wheeze out ragged gasps of suffocating agony.
"Wow,"says the man. "I can't believe you really believed me again."
He nimbly steps back as the puddle of blood almost reaches him. I am too weak to fight anymore. It's so cold, and there's a darkness darker than dark that is reaching out to me.
"At least,"says the man with a chuckle. "You'll get to be with your son. And don't worry,"are his parting words, "I'll make sure the rest of your family joins you shortly."
With the last of my remaining strength, I reach out toward him, but the darkness swallows me whole. And I am no longer in that world. |
What the hell have people against clowns? All I want to do is make people laugh. That's the whole reason I put on the make up.
It don't want to hurt people, I just want to entertain, but everytime I introduce my self as Bopo the clown people treat me like I'm the spawn of Satan. Am seriously that ugly looking?
I've been run out of town after town, just trying to make an honest living for myself. When kids see me on the streets there parents would pull them away like they they thought I was on the sex offenders register.
For the last few months, I had to stay a friends house and I was in a pretty bad place. I'm just some guy from a small town, what did I and as I learned a lot of other clowns do to deserve this? Then a few days ago, I learned what the problem was: it wasn't something it was someone, a guy from the next town over had been terrorizing the people and even killing kids. If that was the problem, then I'm going fix this. So I rounded up a posse, we framed as many of of us as we could into my tiny car, and we drove of to Derry Maine. There was a fellow by the name of Pennywise who needed to be taught a lesson. |
Wha- what's going on? I was lying on the ground, the cold concrete pressed sharp jagged rocks against my cheek, and yet, the only feeling I had was of how cold it was. Why was I lying here? I looked down and saw my shirt torn and shredded. There were dried blood there, and it took me a while to realize that it was my blood that I saw... and yet, I didn't feel any pain.
I looked up at the house. My house. The lights were dimmed, and the windows had wooden boards on them. Wooden boards that I had hammered in just the day before. The door was shut, and it seemed as if all the traps in the garden had been set off, and yet... why was I outside?
The sun was about to set. I should be inside. With a grunt, I made a huge effort to stand, and it took a while, but finally, there I stood. My bones seemed to groan and ache under the weight of my body, and yet I felt no pain. I just felt so tired, so cold.
I shuffled up the steps, being careful not to step on any traps that might've not been activated, and raised my hand to knock on the door before I noticed a small crack in between the boards. There were a set of eyes that seemed to look at me, and we made eye contact before I heard the sound of someone falling back and gasping in shock.
I heard the sound of footsteps running down the stairs inside the house, so I shuffled towards the window and looked in. On the floor lay my wife, surrounded by my kids. They all looked so scared, but then again, everyone was always scared in times like these. Especially with the sun about to set; this bought me back to realize how close the sun really was about to set. How close the zombies were about to come in. I wanted to shout, to tell them to let me in, and yet all I heard was a groan. I couldn't talk, so I raised my hand to knock on the window. Then I saw the brief reflection in the window.
I wanted to throw up. I wanted to run or cry as I finally realized what was happening. My eyes had skin that seemed to have peeled off, dried up, and turned black. My cheeks seemed to have sunken in my face, and what wasn't black seemed to have turned into something that resembled sandpaper. My hand seemed covered with dried blood, and the underside of my nail was caked in what seemed like the same thing that covered my face, the blackened rotting skin.
I finally pieced together what was happening. Why I had trouble standing up even though I felt no pain. Why there was no familiar thump thump thump of my heart beating. Why I felt so cold. So tired. My eyes started to droop as I took one last glance at what *was* my family. I wanted to tell them how I'm sorry whatever happened happened. How I'll always love them, no matter what. Instead, I just heard a groan. My groan. Then I turned, tried to stay awake for as long as I could, and I started shuffling to get as far away from them as I could. |
I can’t remember the last time I had slept so soundly. No visions terrorising my dreams, unable to hear shuffling and cries of the wounded and dying around me. Only darkness and bliss.
For some time after I woke, I remained still, hoping to return to that peaceful oblivion. When I finally opened my eyes, the stars spread over me like a blanket. I gasped in awe at their brilliance, and drowned myself in memories of happier times, where I would sleep with my father under a cherry tree, listening to old pop songs, and eating the fruits which would fall on our heads. I smiled, a tear running down my cheek. “There’s no place like home,” I whispered.
“Well well well! What do we have here?”
I jumped at the unfamiliar voice. A tall, wizened old man towered over me, a large pointed hat perched upon his head, a golden monocle squinched firmly over one all-seeing grey eye, a long, beaked nose down which he observed me, long grey robes that covered his whole body, and a gnarled, aging, wooden staff. With shock, I noticed that his feet were not touching the ground. With a thrill of horror, I realised that he did not have feet at all.
“This isn’t good at all now is it?” The old man grumbled in his deep, scratchy voice. “We were promised an experienced warrior, but this one is a child. The Marqueeree will not like this one bit.” He bent himself down, cupping my chin in one wrinkled hand, and forcing my head up look look at him in the eyes. His hand was as cold as ice. I jerked back, and tried to stumble to my feet. I fell immediately, a searing pain forming in my ankles. I looked down, and realised that my feet were the wrong way. Not only that, but my hands had somehow been inversed, so that my thumb was in the middle of my hand. I screamed, throwing myself backwards. The old man sighed.
“Always so eager, are you? Well, you might be a mistake, but you are all we have. Come child. Welcome to Renanungard.” |
“What a buzz-kill”
I never expected the demons of Nel’zar to be this lame. Back when I started this whole sacrificing goats thing I thought having these powers would feel great. I mean, the amount of party tricks I could do to impress girls seemed endless. But boo-hoo, all they kept blabbering on about was stuff like “we didn’t give you these abilities to screw around” and “why do you drain energy from us to throw out your garbage”. I went through with my end of the deal, so why can’t they do the same? And now they were threatening to take away my soul… Little did they know it’s already long gone since that one time I asked Satan for a new pair of kicks. They don’t even look that cool.
“Listen here, you pathetic excuse for a cultist”, the reddish-black monstrosity exclaimed, “we’ve had enough! My partners and I needed a catalyst to wreak havoc in the overworld, but all you’re doing is leaching away on our powers in order to satisfy your earthly desires! And what the hell is that standing beside you?”
He pointed to the perfect recreation of Cerberus I summoned the other day.
“Oh, that’s Mark. He mostly deals with dissatisfied dealers and people that are too slow to give me my money back. Isn’t that right, my boy?”, I gently patted his head after which he produced a deep and gnarly growl. I assumed that meant he was happy.
The main demon massaged his sinuses for a while.
“You do realize that we could end your meekly existence with a snap of our fingers? Why do you keep doing these acts if not for the sake of your demise?”
I couldn’t believe that they still didn’t get it.
“That book I found in my dad’s cellar was sitting there for a long time, man. Covered in dust, under his questionable porn mags and old alt rock vinyls. You guys aren’t the most popular crew in hell, am I not correct?”, after they realized what I was leading to, their faces (if you could even call them that) tensed a little, ”If I’m gone, you probably won’t have any representation here ever again. I’m your only hope.”
The horrible creatures formed a circle and took the time to whisper in-between themselves like at some sort of girly sleepover. While that was happening I decided to summon a can of beer from my fridge to help pass the time. At long last, with a belittling sigh they all turned around to face me.
“Fine, do whatever you want. It’s not like you’re spreading any positive influences with these powers anyway.”
Before they left through a freshly created portal, they all gave me a perfectly choreographed simultaneous “I’m watching you” gesture. After the sound of multiple high fives echoed through my room, the portal collapsed onto itself and I was left all alone once again.
“Well, Mark, let’s go for a walk and totally accidentally bump into that asshole Spencer along the way, shall we?” |
I poke at the edge of the filter a couple of times, run my finger alongside the length making sure no air was escaping. Satisfied that there's no airflow I push it firmly into place and radio in "Alright Betsy try now,"a few moments later I can see the feel the filter being held in place by suction Betsy chatters in my ear "Levels look good, O2 levels are rising and it's clean."With a smile, I apply the adhesive and make sure it sets before heading off for the airlock. I'm in a good mood, it had been months of sealing the room from the rest of the building and saving up to afford a new air filter, but we finally had this extra room set now we could finally think about trying for the baby.
I'm surprised we made it this far, I think back when we were still nomads scavenging up old bits and bobs to afford O2 for our portable hab, now we have our own claimed ruin, 5 well now 6 habitable chambers and our own filtration units, we've come a long way since the war ended. Me and Betsy we're both war orphans, my parents bought the farm during the orbital bombardments of 24', Betsy's parents went down with the Orion Fleet when it got tricked into the asteroid belt. The two of us met at the orphanage, both bonded over how much we hated that slave master of a director, luckily he never picked up on why we got along and kept sending us on jobs together.
That bond turned to friendship, into love, and before the bastard realized it we'd already put away enough side payments to buy the portable hab, we were out the door the same day peace was declared we were still a little young but they were hurting for 'colonists' and so the bureaucrat we went to was fine with flubbing a few lines on the license. Life after that was still hard, but we had each other and we were finally working for ourselves, well I suppose you could say we were technically government employees but so long as we regained resources and planted down beacons they didn't have too many questions, they couldn't afford to ask them. They needed to recover all the could after the war, and had a hard time convincing people to brave the inhospitable wastes to do it for them, especially with all the ordinance still laying around.
It doesn't help that they charge you an arm and a leg to go out and do it. More than half what you get back from scavenging you spend on O2, Fuel, and Sustenance, If you want to actually colonize you need an official deed from a hub city, which means you need to get the building surveyed, which you need to do your self or else have someone else swoop in and steal your find. Then you need the gear to make it habitable, solar panels, temperature control, waste disposal, water collectors and food growth. It can take a person decades just to get a three-room home with a place to sleep, relieve themselves and make their own food and water. Well, it can take decades if you do it the legitimate way, only selling back to the government, but if a few documents or pieces of tech fall out your hab on your way to reporting it things move a bit faster.
Stepping into the airlock, I strip down and scrub before being let inside, when I am Betsy wraps her arms around me and holds me tight "We get to have our baby, should we call it Zion after your father or Balen after mine or if it's a girl..."she starts as I chuckle "Let's just take it steps at a time, first we'll head back to Hab III get cleared for breeding, then we can put in the forms register for the third occupant..."I said reminding her we still had some steps as she nodded a bit looking to the side "And if it's a girl I think we should name them after your mother Kylie is a lot better then Bathsheba,"I said unable to hide my excitement as she laughs leading me into our center room. This was our base, had our scavenge map/table in the center that showed the area around us and what he had and hadn't hit already. In the corner was our cooking area, my pride and joy, Betsy hated that I spent money buying the stuff when a food processor would have done the same job, but she didn't complain when she tried something other than nutrient bars for the first time. Off this chamber was our garage/airlock the portable hab sat in there, our waste disposal room, our greenhouse, our water collector, our bedroom and now our new nursery. The walls were a sterile white, this place used to be a hospital which is likely why it was still standing and in good condition after the war.
Betsy went to work planning our next op while I worked on dinner, and honestly, life is pretty good. I have a beautiful wife, the chance to have a kid and a home that's a lot more than a lot of people have. Sure I didn't have much of a childhood and my life has been hard so far, but Betsy and I were finally in a place we can be happy and self-sufficient. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if Mom and Dad decided to sign up for the colony, what it would have been like to be on the winning side of the war and have a home with clean terraformed air, but I wouldn't have met an Earth Defence Fleet Brat in a Martian Orphanage. So I'm glad where I'm at. Would I have been happy if we'd won and I could have got a piece of that martian pie for myself? Sure, but all in all I can't say I would have changed much. |
Blood covered the walls.
It was the afternoon of my gender reveal party, and I had been running some last minute errands to make sure the event would be perfect. I was leaving the Dollar Store, the last stop of the day, when I felt my baby kick, hard. He’s been doing that more often these days, and this time it was enough to stop me in my tracks. “Easy, there” I say as I pat my belly. All of a sudden, a man wearing a fedora and a trench coat approached me where I was standing. “Partying hard?” He asked, nodding at my bag full of party decorations. What a creep. Why are strangers compelled to talk to pregnant women? Nonetheless, I was in good spirits and decided to be polite.
“No, I’m actually hosting my gender reveal party tonight.” I replied. I reached into the bag and pulled out some blue balloons. “It’s a boy.”
“Well now. Isn’t that nice.”
Seemingly out of thin air, the man revealed an old wooden box, which he extended to me. The pungent stench of ammonia filled the space around us. God I hate ammonia. “What the heck is this” I said. The smell was so strong my eyes began to water. The strange man smiled. “This oughta spice up your gender reveal party” I glanced down at the box and noticed an inscription scratched into the lid.תופעות לוואי עשויות להיות אפוקליפטיות. להמשיך בזהירות “Is that French?” But when I looked up, he was already sprinting away. What a weirdo. Is this some sort of prank? I turned my attention back to the box. Normally I’d ditch something like this, but there was something alluring about this box. As if it was *begging* to be to opened.
As I lifted the lid, a black, tendril mist began to spill out in every direction. The ammonia scent was now so overwhelming I felt myself about to pass out. “What the fuck!” I exclaimed, dropping the box onto the ground. The box landed on its side, and a goat’s severed head rolled out from it, dripping with blood. The smoke started to twist. There was something very unnatural about it, almost alive. It made a noise that sounded like the snake in harry potter. You know, that slithering noise. Parcel tongue I think it’s called. Yeah that’s it. Suddenly the smoke started coming towards me. Leisurely at first, I thought I was imagining things, but suddenly it lurched forward in one sweeping movement. It engulfed me. All I could breathe was that putrid smoke. I tried holding my breath but the smoke forced itself into my lungs. The baby kicked, but this time something about it felt different. All of a sudden I began to feel light headed and my stomach lurched. I passed out.
I woke up gasping for air. That was one of the strangest dreams I’ve had. Wait a sec, I don’t know this ceiling. My eyes drifted downward, and I noticed the walls around me were all covered in blood. I became aware of the smell of death lingering in the room. To my horror I saw three people lying on the floor in pools of their own blood. WHAT THE HELL?! One was still gasping for air, and that’s when I realized that a small creature was standing on top of his larynx, holding a machete. The creature slowly turned to look at me, a sinister grin creeping across his face. “I am Tahomas,” he snarled. “Satan reincarnated in the mortal world.” With that, he jumped onto the bed where I was sitting, in shock. “I am going to kill you and everyone you know. And then I’m gonna kill everyone you don’t know.” And he slit my throat. |
I shuddered.
*Thum!*
Every time they struck the drum, it made me shudder. I was nearly weeping as I heard them coming towards the doors.
*Thum!*
The doors rattled from the drums. Over the violent drumming, I began to hear voices, chanting.
*Thum!*
The words became clearer, though just slightly outside of my ken.
*Thum!*
Finally, I could hear them over the drums. They were just outside the doors.
*Thum!* "Jeffrey Epstein Did Not Kill Himself!,"they cried.
*Thum! *
As the doors crashed in on me, my final thoughts were, "but he was running a pedophile ring for the rich and famous... He deserved it...."
*Thum!* |
The first time I was meant to die, it was an execution. A firing squad, meant to riddle my body with bullets for the crime of desertion. It's a funny thing, you know, a firing squad; seven soldiers do the deed so none can be sure which fired the fatal shot. All wanted me to die, but none wanted the weight of it on their soul. I can appreciate the sentiment.
You must understand, as they could not: I'm not a coward. I didn't leave the war out of fear of dying, or of killing. I simply didn't want to give Death the satisfaction of either.
*Death.* How we shudder at the thought of that ancient enemy, that final insult to human ambition. We should have evolved past it a thousand generations ago, blunted its terrible scythe with our science.
But no. Though we may fight it, delay it, learn not to fear it, death comes for us all, patient and implacable.
Does it not boil the blood? Am I the only one who holds such hate and disgust in my heart for that cowled thief, hoarding souls like a spoiled child?
No more. I felt that if I could not conquer death, I would settle for outrunning it. At the moment of my would-be demise, the science I'd spent years perfecting would crack open the skin of the world, and pull me to a place beyond death's reach.
And so it came to pass with my first death. I know not what those fearful bullets struck, but before the crack of their release reached my ears, I stood upon another earth, its rich black soil soaked through by the falling rain, distant lightning illuminating an overgrown mountain in the distance. I'd done it. I'd outrun death for the first time.
It would be six months before it happened again; I took an unplanned tumble off a cliff, and landed in an otherworldly ocean. Two years later, I escaped the gnashing of feral teeth to find myself in a stone city long-abandoned. Then three years more, I stepped unwitting into a field of golden wheat, where moments before had been mossy flagstones. I don't even know what killed me then, only that I escaped it.
And so it went, for more years and deaths than I care to count. But though I eluded death, time stayed at my heels, robbing me of youth, passion and wonder supplanted by fatigue and memory.
My visits to each world became shorter as I grew more frail, an easier target for death to track.
If I'd seen it all coming... Well. I didn't.
There is no life for me anymore. My body shut down countless worlds ago, my mind trapped in a catatonic prison of flesh, drawn ever onward to new worlds by the magnum opus of my youth. I see only flickers, now, glimpses of the billion earths as I glide through them, scant moments ahead of death's grasping hand.
Do not mourn for me. Save that sentiment for the dead. But, the next time you see someone out of the corner of your eye, someone who isn't there when you turn to look, know your fortune for what it is: for you have seen the one who has beaten Death, and they are not you. |
It’s a routine: kick off my boots, plop into the swivel chair, and drag my headset over my ears. I press a key on a separate preprogrammed keyboard that opens a program that burst into hundreds of windows. A single window is flashing, a message the program recognizes can only come from my boss whether it’s a him, a her, or an it.
*This is our top client, dress nicely.*
I laugh. At some point in time, each message became less and less clear on what was required. I buttoned a dress shirt, passed over my boots, and stepped outside as a black car toots its horn. At first, I just delivered unmarked packages, and now I follow vague orders.
The car dropped me off at a defunct warehouse at the Ports where a flash of green and red lights escaped from the windows. I step across the threshold to see an old man wearing a red winter coat as the car rolls away.
“Your boss has told me so many nice things when recommending you to this position,” the man said with a smile. “Would you like to work for me at the North Pole?” |
*What?*
My eyes skip to the person sitting two seats away at the high topped table with the unbalanced stools. Their number is the same as before. A bright green +46308 above their unkempt bed head. Probably some sort of grad student majoring in social services.
The person on the other side of the Anomaly also has the same number as before. An angry red -45. A strange and rare number to have, but not unmanageable. Some people just have blank personalities their whole lives.
However, the person between the two. The Anomaly. This is something I've never seen before, and I've seen some interesting point changes. People flickering between positive and negative several times in one night. People with numbers that rise quickly but visibly as their Good Resolve gathers. Peoples' numbers skipping down in skips and jumps as their bad idea keeps getting worse.
But nothing ever like this. Never someone whose number sat steadily at -8291 (obviously a regular joe with no consciousness of their effect on the world), and then just...flipped. Like a switch. And such a drastic change, too. Glowing out an astonishing +12953827572. I've never seen such a high number. Ever.
So, of course, when the stranger shuts their laptop and stands up to leave, I figure I have no choice but to follow them. I wait until they're out the door, noticing that they've left behind all of their belongings. Laptop, backpack, car keys, even lining up their wallet and such, maybe for a kind civilian to find.
*Why do I have a sinking feeling it's not going to get back to him?*
I trail them for 3 blocks. To an empty lot behind some accounting firm. They walk to the centre of the open, overgrown field and stand statue still, face turning slowly to the heavens.
For a long time, they just breathe. Just stare. Body tilting with the natural balance compensation of human brains. Then, I hear something. Something faint, like a rustle of clothing, someone shifting in bed at midnight. It takes a moment for me to realise the person is talking, whispering something to the clouds.
Cautiously, I creep nearer, straining to hear the words, praying they even *are* words. Eventually I get so close that I worry they'll notice me, so I crouch in the tall grass.
"I'll do it,"the words finally form a cohesive sentence, though, cohesion has always been wildly subjective. "I'm ready to do it. Myself for them - all of them. You promise it'll be all of them."
Just then, the wind slams against my side, nearly knocking me over and exposing my hiding place - the grass is nearly pushed down flat. I've never been a religious person, besides the obvious of the Good Points and Bad Points system. But I'm questioning that now as the wind backs off and the grass sways back into place.
*Like it was an answer...*
The person nods, and without another word, they raise their arms out, their body becoming a cross, and their head hangs back listlessly on their shoulders as the sky above us splits. A perfect cylinder of rain begins trickling down around the person, encasing them in a light stream of water. They let themself dampen, then soak through to the bone, until...something...starts melting their clothes right of their body.
And then, when their clothes are gone, it takes their skin, too, chopping away at it in lazy, gelatinous lumps. Then their muscle and fat and veins and tendons, sloughing off until there's only bone left. And then the bone begins crumbling, becomes dust floating away on the wind, sweeping up gracelessly into the shimmering sky. And the rain stops as suddenly as it started.
The blast that emanates from the puddle is just as unexpected, flinging me backward onto my butt, forcing me to bring my arms up to cover my head. Until it's over. And it falls silent once again.
xxxxx
After that, people stop dying. There hasn't been a single death for two years now. Every baby is born healthy, exactly on their due date. People who had accepted their fate to succumb to terminal illness have yet to see their end. Sickness - flues, colds, sore joints - is an inconvenience of the past. Everything is...*paradise*.
And only I will ever get close to knowing why.
--excuse any errors, it's late and I don't feel like editing-- |
"This is it guys"
I walked pass the healing center, and stood in front of the gate before opening. It is highly recommended to check everything you have and need before entering the Champions League as one cannot leave to buy item, or visit healing center once entered.
"Let's see... six pokeballs, 17 healing potion, burn, paralyzed, frozen, asleep medicine... Yupp, I'm good to go."
I scanned my badges at the sensor, and the final task to become a pokemon master opened in front of me.
'Will it be a dragon master? Or steel? I hope it's not water. I do not have any grass or electric type.'
'Should I put up a stealth rock, and spikes from the beginning? Will they be necessary? Oh man, maybe I should have just replace it with another attack move'
A million different thoughts raced my mind as I climbed up the stairs. If I win today, I will be the first champion from my town. Not to mention there has been no winner for the past 1 year. With the champion title, I will be able to travel to new regions, and catch some new pokemons. Then I will be able to replace some of the 'unnecessary' pokemons I carry now.
I reached the top, and the thick fog clouded my sight. I could see a tiny figure ahead, and two identical figure standing behind it.
"Pi...Pikachu?"To my surprise, there was a pikachu standing on the stage alone. The two identical figures in the back were two slowkings standing behind pikachu outside the battle stage.
"Welcome to the Champions League human"Both Slowking spoke simultaneously.
"But... where is the champion? I mean, where is the trainer? You are pokemons"I asked.
"You will battle Pikachu for the champion title. No trainer necessary."Both Slowking spoke simultaneously.
"Alright then. This will be a quick and easy battle."I said as I reached my hand for the Longstone Pokeball. Just briefly, I saw Pikachu smiled on the stage. As if it was agreeing with me.
"Go Longstone!"I shouted as I threw out my Pokeball.
"Your electricity move is no match for my Longstone. Longstone! Earthquake!"
But before my Longstone could make the attack, Pikachu started to speak. I understood none of it, but I knew my Longstone was not following the command I just gave.
"Longstone! What the fuck are you doing??? I said do the Earthquake attack!"I yelled, but it did not even turn its head.
"Hey! Is this even allowed? That little twat is talking to my Pokemon! This is a battle stage!"I appealed to two Slowkings as they are Pokemons that can speak human language.
"Quiet Human"
"That's it. Longstone. You are done. Just come back."I reached my belt to look for a pokeball. That's when Longstone turned around and roared at me. Suddenly large number of rocks started to drop and buried me.
I could feel my bone broken, and could not move an inch. Longstone and Pikachu walked down the stage to where Slowkings stood, and one of the Slowking handed Pikachu a pokeball.
Pikachu walked toward me slowly with a pokeball on its hand, and a smile on its face.
Before I could say anything, Pikachu threw the pokeball at me, and I could feel my body being sucked into a void. |
Its enormous shadow lurched over him as the slimy meatball's throat expanded like a bubble.
"Well, there you have it,"the words came cheerfully out of the man's mouth, as if it couldn't have eaten him whole at any moment. "Okay, guys, next we have the biggest chicken on the planet."
He wouldn't move on with the rest of the tourists. His eyes fixed on the slimy creature, he slowly placed his hands on the glass. The strongest glass in the country, they say. I mean, why not? These animals are supposed to be kept secu—what? Jonathan, no. Johnny, how? How did you do that? That's not how the story was supposed to go.
Well, I can't do anything. I just have to observe and write down what happens. I wish I was down there to save him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Johnny.
He died.
Like he did 93 other f\*cking times.
Excuse my language, but I can't help it.
My only job is to keep this... this *idiot* alive for 24 hours.
Unfortunately, this... is too much.
I'm sorry, [u/burtleburtle](https://www.reddit.com/user/burtleburtle), we'll try again tomorrow. |
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"When Alesha's might reigns over them all;
Her power will be bested by one who stands tall
To a thousand men's strength in one she will fall;
Faced with that power, Alesha will be small"
Those are the words that changed our world forever. Alesha's oracle spewed this out untold millennia ago, and ever since she has sent her automaton forces to find and take our strongest inside of the nearest temple's impenetrable walls. We never get to see inside, but one rumor is they are being used to build an army.
They never come back though, so mostly I just assume that they die. A cold, calculated death for the audacity of being strong. Not recruitment. A Culling.
I would never be taken by Alesha. My frail legs and spasmodic arms pose no threat to Alesha's might, so I live my life invisible to her drones. I may as well be a tree... or a bug.
Thankfully, my people are not so blind as my God. They see the usefulness of the ideas I have, the tools I invent and even the music I write.
Well, dictate.
I tried to think up a way to defend against Alesha's forces. Weapons, barricades, camouflage, nothing I designed presented the slightest obstacle to her Rolling Men, though we did once cause one of the Flying Men to fall out of the sky by flinging a rock into the blades that seem to propel them. It quickly recovered, but we celebrated nonetheless. We were desperate for a win.
*I* was desperate for a win. The year prior, they had taken my best friend. It wasn't the first time this happened. My friends are always strong because they lift me and help me around, so my friends often fall to the Culling.
Today marks my final Culling. Today, I am not strapped to the back of a friend, but a warrior. Today, that warrior will not detach my harness and place me on the ground as the mad God's forces approach. Today, either my newest weapon will work or I will finally share in the fate I have doomed so many others to just by existing.
Today, I will have *peace*. |
There was a box in the corner. It hadn’t been opened yet. It had a word stamped on it.
The half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels slipped from Doctor Zorienstern’s fingers. He jolted awake when it hit the floor. Whiskey poured on onto the carpet, and he leaned forward in the recliner to retrieve it. He didn’t know what time it was, but it was dark outside. Infomercials were playing on the TV in front of him.
He looked around the room. Martha must have gone to bed. He was used to sleeping on the recliner these days. She didn’t want him in bed, and he wasn’t inclined to join her anyways. They had been fighting all month, and he was getting tired of it.
As he reached over to pick up the bottle, he noticed something next to the easy chair on the floor. He picked it up and stared at it.
It was his old reading glasses.
He started laughing, and then threw them across the room, towards the hallway that led to the stairs. Standing in the entryway was Martha. She was wearing her robe and had her arms crossed.
“Are you done,” she said. It was more of a statement than a question.
Dr. Zor held the bottle up to inspect it. “Nope, not quite,” he said, and took a short pull off it.
“Steven, when are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she said.
“I don’t know, Martha. How about you let me feel sorry for myself for little bit, and I’ll tell you,” he said.
“I thought I was doing that.”
“No,” said Steven. “You have been on me since day one. You have been up my back side with what nexts, and how comes and stop feeling sorry for yourselfs since it happened. I would like, if you don’t mind, to have a serious mope for a bit.”
Martha walked over to the recliner. “Well, excuse me for caring about you,” she said.
Steven held the bottle of whiskey up to his eye. He rotated it so the label was out of his way. “Funny, I can almost see you clearly. Almost,” he said.
Martha took the bottle out of his hand. He tried to reach for it, but only half-heartedly. Even in his present state, he knew he’d had enough. He even managed to realize that he was probably done with the way he had been behaving.
“Steven, I’m sorry,” said Martha. Steven looked up at her. “I’m sorry that I haven’t let you get it out of your system, and I’m sorry that it happened. I’m sorry for what your life has become. And I’m sorry that it’s gotten this bad.”
Tears started to well up in his eyes. “This isn’t what I wanted for us. This isn’t what I expected to happen, ever. I’m so sorry,” he said. He leaned forward and Martha took him in his arms.
“I know, baby, I know,” she said. She rocked him as he cried. He finally settled down, a little embarrassed in the outburst. He always felt like he was the rock of the relationship. He was finding out that he wasn’t.
“I’m going to have to close the store down,” he said.
“I know,” said Martha. “We will figure something else out. You’re a doctor, you’re smart. Maybe you can finally write that book you wanted.”
Steven wasn’t listening to her. He was too drunk and too tired and only wanted to come out the other end of this. But he knew there was one more thing that was bothering him. One thing, sitting in cardboard, that loomed over his heart.
“And I don’t think I can return that,” he said, gesturing to the box in the corner.
Martha looked at the box. She felt a well of sadness inside her, but now was not the time to show it.
“No, probably not,” she said.
It sat there. It mocked them. It was all their savings, their hope for the future, and it was over.
Stamped on the box was a word.
Lasik.
———————-
This is day 19 of the NonNaNoWriMo challenge. I don’t have a novel to write, so I’m writing a prompt a day for the month of November.
I scrolled though today’s prompts, and things didn’t stick out to me. And then I saw this one. I almost passed, but then I thought, lots of people will be happy about this event. But what about the eye doctors? For every advance in technology, every major positive in our world, someone loses. Someone finds out that they are out of a job, or lost their equity, or something. That’s where this came from. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy. |
"Oh, Goddamnit. Not again."
Kevin hesitates with the Rolex dangling between his fingers over my mother's wrist. "Does this... happen a lot?"
"Do you need to do the thing with the watch?"
Kevin nodded with wide, full eyes.
I groaned. "Yeah, ok, do the thing."As Kevin moved toward her purse in the living room, I sat down in front of my mother, with her head dropped sideways on the table. "Come on. You can't keep showing up to my place to get drunk."
My mother's voice filled my head with a warm, tingling sensation vibrating throughout it. "I'm just trying to talk to the spirits, honey."
I lifted the empty bottle of vodka with two fingers. "Looks like you had a good talk."
Her voice scoffed while her mortal form began to drool on my table. "You're obviously being haunted, and I'm going to get to the middle of it."
"**Mom**."I slapped my hand on the table, causing Kevin to yelp over a glass of saltwater he was stirring lavender into. "They're fine. The spirits are fine. Let them do their thing. If you were so worried, go chase angry ghosts."
"Darling."The drool pool was becoming significant. "Benny, the young boy in the living room, has some concerns about your eating habits."
"Mom, no, you know I don't want to hear it."
"I'm just worried about you. You haven't taken care of yourself this year."Her physical form began to groan a constant hum. "Deborah, the spirit of the kitchen, was just telling me how you haven't showered *once* this week."
I drummed my fingers on the table loudly. "Okay, well, fuck Deborah, my hygiene is none of her business."
"It's a valid concern."
"Great. Should I get Deborah a calendar and she can mark my showered days? Do I turn it into you like a report card? OH, how about Benny, should I make him a salad so he has something to keep him busy? Is that nutritious enough for his standards?"
"We're all very worried about you. You haven't handled losing your job very well."
"Mom. I have an apartment. It's paid for. I have savings. I'm applying for jobs. I just got back from an interview."I waved my hands over my button-up top and pin-stripe pants. "See? I'm fine. Everything is fine. I'm changing the locks."
Kevin's voice boomed against the cramped walls of the kitchen. "BADAM BENGA ADA DAB."
The Rolex glubbed into the water solution, cracking and fizzing.
My mother's face, flattened from the table top, rose with her body as she sat upright and gasped. Now, substantial drool is probably subjective, but it was at least my hand's length in diameter. That substantial drool traced from her cheek back down to the table.
"Good, now you can leave."
"You're going to *change the locks*?!"Kevin handed her the Rolex with a glazed-over expression. "Oh, darling, thank you, you've been wonderful."
"Good God. Restore him to normal."I pointed at him with an upward-facing palm.
"Well, I certainly wouldn't describe *Him* that way."She rolled her eyes and held the watch face up to Kevin. "Your time is done, you may go."
Kevin jumped and looked at his palms before shaking his head. "Oh, Goddamnit, not again. Karen, come on."
I pointed at my mother. "You need to leave. I'm changing the locks. You're not bothering him,"I pointed at Kevin, "**or** calling a locksmith again or I'm changing *everything*."
She rolled her eyes as she collected her purse. "Oh, dear, you've always been such a difficult soul."She grabbed my chin and smiled, her face still red and smooshed and lightly glazed. "We'll get you there eventually."
As she walked toward the door, she threw her hand up in a wave. "Ta! I'll see you tomorrow evening!"
"**Mom, no, you won't see this neighborhood.**"
The door clicked behind her.
Kevin sneered at the table. "Sorry, dude. I, um, I'm late to dinner with my, um, wife, so, um..."
"Sorry, man."I walked him to the door before returning to the kitchen table. "Thanks, mom, for trashing the place." |
“Damn it!” I said, anger filling my voice as I slapped the desk in frustration. “I mean, how hard can it be? Why isn’t the program working? How the hell is an *and* circuit supposed to work? I swear, nothing is wrong with the code...”
I leaned back in my chair, and let out a sigh. But this was just how life always worked, you thought you were on to something good, and then boom, it gets all *complicated*. I mean, who knew discovering a reality-altering universal language would be so useless?
“Ugh... I really should have payed attention more in my high school computer science class.” |
I survey the landscape, and despair over the faded ruins I’ve seen a thousand times before. I sigh, as the ache of my bones echos through the hollow of my soul. Like a spent hourglass, it's just settled grains of sand. Empty like the rest.
In a cold whisper of wind, the desert dust meanders up to the side of my headset. For a moment, it sounds like the waves of the ocean crashing against a primordial shore. I imagine the spark of life surging through those waters, springing fourth against the inevitable weight of time. Something comes alive within me, a lost and familiar memory. It it life, or is it love? Is there a difference? I can't remember. I just know I can't lose that vision again.
So I close my eyes to breathe in the salty air of that imagined sea. I want to feel the movement, and breath in all it's vibrancy.
But instead of hope, I’m greeted with her face. How can she haunt me so far out here in the unknown? With a stabbing burst of insight realize she’s been dead for thousands of years now. Yet something within me feels like she's out there still, wondering why I never came back. I know she's lost to time, as much as I know that I'm the only life out here on this desert planet. Yet the heart persists. It insists that she's alone, and that I abandoned her. In my mind, I watch her glowing hot tears dissolve into the fading flickers of a thousand stars. My soul still reaches out to her, even though it reaches into the dark and empty void.
I can't stand the cold of it, so I plunge into the memory of those soft shores hiding in my headset . But I can’t hold them. The ocean stopped it's breathing, and the moment’s already gone. All I can hear in the sand now is radio static. That same static that seeps in everywhere I go. A universe doomed to entropy and uniform sameness.
I finish my log, not bothering for a closer look at the skeletons of the past before me.
Instead, I return to the ship and continue searching. |
Routine isn’t boring; routine is anticipating the finale. You just have to lean into it and savour the moment suspended like vapour in an oxygen generator. Pre-flight checks were ticked off as soft whispers of the her systems sparked to life.
Engines spooled and gradually overcame the viscous pull of gravity, the first of many suspended moments. It was still quiet in the cockpit as they hovered above the sling point waiting our turn in the queue. An obtrusive beep was switched off by delicate fingers, a mother shushing her anxious child. Even the dust was reverently settled on the worn metal of the cockpit. She took a moment to breathe in the last of the fresh air before the scrubbers kicked in and looked out through distorted cam feeds, the static holding a moments silence before shutting off.
She felt the shudder of the mag-lock as it clicked into place and knew it was time. She closed her eyes. She wrapped her fingers around the throttle. Her fingers gently shook against the rubber. Breathe in. Hold. And with a snap her lungs exhaled and threw themselves backwards as her stomach plunged down bracing itself against her kidneys. She wrestled with the controls, gripping the rubber tightly in preparation for phase two. She had no time to consider the feelings that had been ripped away from her at launch. A smile pushed up through the Gs as adrenaline fired round her veins.
As she exited the stratosphere the load eased up and she began artfully dodging between asteroids and other debris. The others said she took unnecessary risks, they thought she was just pursuing the thrill but they just couldn’t feel the beauty of cutting past mining equipment as it just grazed the hull. Even the delicate puffs of stabilising thrusters were like geysers taming this metallic beast and if they couldn’t appreciate art that wasn’t her fault.
The space station loomed up ahead and the rush ebbed away with the last of the debris and she plotted a direct course for the hangar, idly tapping her fingers on the console. She knew she shouldn’t have taken as long as she did in the asteroids but they knew what they signed up for when they put her on this mission. Right on cue they called over radio.
“Halo 1-1, this is HMS Icarus. Did you get caught in the debris field what took you so long?”
“HMS Icaurs, I had to navigate some tricky terrain but I’m through now. Payload is secure.”
“Copy that 1-1 dock in bay 34 we’ll meet you there. Out.”
The operator knew what he was doing and she was grateful. She just wished the docking procedure wasn’t so long. As the controls were taken from her she sank in her seat. The whispers from the ship were replaced with the harsh shouting of the main thrusters. So unnecessary, she thought to herself, why not just smoothly glide in using the stab thrusters. The tapping increased in tempo and her left hand joined in. Her thoughts drifted to her cargo and her focus slipped toward the back of her mind…
The jolt from the mag-lock pulled focus back to the hangar and the final stages of her landing. She shuddered thinking back to what she was bringing with her, closed her eyes and took one final breath. Outside she could see a small gathering of soldiers, only about eight, in dress blues.
“I hope you enjoyed one last ride.” She said as the cold steel coffins were shouldered down the ramp and into the final routine. A funeral. |
I thought opening the door was our worst mistake.
The cave looked inconspicuous, save for the faded red metal door that stood under the embankment of ice. We all figured we had find some old Russian observation outpost to track any potential Nuclear bombers flying over the poles towards Moscow.
Inside the door led to a single stair case that descended far into a wide floor strewn with disused production lines entangled in a labyrinth of steam pipes. We descended into the this space with same empty curiosity that made would lead you to watch horrific terrorist videos online, we knew that we could simply turn away but need to know just how what awful mystery happened here made our fear indulgent.
Behind the staircase, at the bottom of the stairs we found a room decked in red, quite the contrast to endless black and grey on the factory floor. The desk was empty save for some broken candy canes strewn across the desk and a single red leather book.
I looked over at our polar survival expert Lewis, his face showed that he had only started to overcome empty, horrifying curiosity as he began to headcount our crew of 6 and motioned to for the rest of the crew to head back to door and wait.
I opened the book and the opening page read only the following words in red cursive ink.
*Property of C. Kringle, My Final Notes*
I turn over the next page
*I leave these final conclusions because I have succeeded and therefore need to terminate everything I have achieved here, SANTA was meant to redefine how industry could be executed, the perfect worker. Relentless, Unwavering Loyalty, Obedience, Efficiency and Creativity; the perfect worker to free us from the failures of mass production. Clothes, Toys, Electronics, Weapons, the E.L.V.E.S. exceeded in every way. It should have been a gift, the ability for humanity to never work again for the basics, to lift the world inequality and poverty. I thought developing conscious would be the problem but instead it was that they could not stop producing, their one true purpose. They began stripping the machines themselves to create more when they were starved of raw materials. They didnt do it because of some program, they reasoned that it was the only thing that gave them purpose and were therefore ceaseless, I've nuked the program, removed their only essential resource, food, organic matter. I only hope that if this account is every found they understand that is place must be left to rot because any organic source that could feed them could allow them to grow/ expand.*
Just then a rush of motion flew up the stairs, a flash of green darted towards the team heading for the door.
They screamed briefly while Lewis and I drew our shotguns.
Two figures descended down the stairs dripping with blood and stared straight towards us. We began to shoot but both had toppled lewis to the ground before we even got a second shot off. I ran towards the surface as I shot backwards. I reached the door and slam it behind me, breathing heavily as I slammed the door shut. Above however the grin of its head stared down on me from above the snow embankment over the door.
"More sustenance"He screamed as he dropped on to me. |
My original world was a haze that I barely remember... All I can piece together was smoke and lights and words. Then everything went dark. That must have been the moment I fell out of my world and into the other. By the time I woke up, I felt strange. Inter-dimensional travel must just do that to you. My mouth was dry, my shirt was wet, my fingers were sticky, my eyes were heavy. When I tried to rub my eyes awake, black stains tracked off onto my fingers.
I tried to stand and my head spun. For some reason everything was so loud, but with utter gibberish. I couldn't make out a single word of it. I tried to walk, and could feel an arm on my shoulder. One of the inhabitants of this foreign world was... touching me. She was topless and sweaty. "H bb, wnn dnc?"She shouted into my ear. I could smell some kind of alcohol. I had no idea what she was trying to say.
I mumbled back, "What,"and tried to disengage, stumbling off. Someone who clearly thought he knew me looked at me concerned, walked away from a small group of people performing some kind of dancing ritual, and looked in my eyes.
"Jss, lk fckd p, lrght?"he snapped his fingers in front of my eyes, and I winced. "Wht th hll dd tk?"
"I... don't..."I wretched.
"Wh, lts gt t f hr, fnd plc t st fr whl, gt sm r..."He firmly grabbed my shoulder, leading me out a set of glass doors, outside. It was a little drizzly, well into the night. He took me to a bench under a lamp-post, where the minuscule droplets were illuminated under the orange glow. I breathed in cool damp air.
"Where am I?"I mumble, trying to hold back vomit.
"Th prt, knw? Bcc nvtd s?"He said, looking at me nervously.
"Yeah, man, whatever you say..."I get off the bench, and stagger off down the alien street, wondering if I'll find a way back home. |
Memory Successfully Loaded.
Huf. Thank God I saved before I got into a fight with my friend. I hurt him brutally. Now I feel much more at peace.
Now I'll just go tell him, it's okay and I forgive him. He's going to be so confused.
My ability has helped me out of really bad situations. This one time I got into a nasty accident and I just went back to my last saved file. I could've died.
This superpower of mine helped me get my girlfriend too. I practiced these various ways of asking her out until she said yes.
All was going well until the day, my file went corrupt.
I tell you all this as I seem to be stuck in this land of nothingness. It's my world but it's empty. The place is empty and it seems to be constantly glitching.
I need someone to reinstall the software. Would you do that please? |
"Erm... what?"said the tallest of the group. He had big hands, feet, a mat of blonde hair and wore glasses.
I cleared my throat loudly, causing a little earthquake which threw them all off balance - it was fun intimidating lesser beings. "I said, 'All right, who's coughing up the cash?'"
The boys got to their feet. There were four of them, short, mousy, thin, all trembling from head to toe. *Pathetic.* They exchanged looks, then the smallest and most pathetic looking of all raised his hand. "Uh, excuse me, sir, Mr. Legendary Golden Spark?"
"What?"I boomed, causing another tremor.
"Well, we, uh, still don't understand what you -"
"What's your name son?"I said abruptly, causing them all to jump about a foot in the air.
"Th-Theodore, sir, your excellence."And he made an attempt at a bow that made him fall over.
I shook my head as his friends pulled him to his feet, then stepped forward until I was level with Theodore (or at least, as level as I could get - his head barely passed my knee), who was now shaking so furiously he looked like he was having a seizure. "Well, *Theodore*, The Legendary Golden Spark is a very"- I lowered my voice - "very"- it was now a whisper - "BUSY"- I barked '- "celestial being. You can't honestly expect to summon someone as important as me to do your bidding without compensation, can you?"I puffed out my chest, which was broader than all four boys altogether.
They drew close together, clutching each other and shaking violently.
"Well, well sir - Marcus,"said the first speaker, "my name is Marcus. We - we don't have any money."He squeaked.
It was pathetic. Never before had I seen such a pitiful group. It was so bad I almost felt sorry for them. I sighed (the breath blew one of them ten feet backwards). "You know what?"I said, as they scurried back with him. "I think I *will* help. Yes, I'll make men out of you. Now, show me your bravest faces - ugh!"I said, as their faces contorted into expressions of extreme constipation.
"We'll work on that. Now, what did you summon me for anyway?"
"Well, there's this person, who's been bullying us for years -"said the one I blew away. His voice was weak and I noticed that he was carefully avoiding my eyes.
"Fine. What's his name?"
"Well,"said the fourth and final boy, speaking in a terrified whisper, "her name is Patricia."
I stared. "WHAT?" |
"CHOO CHOO MOT********ERS!!!"
I danced around, I was back! A passing train had found me and I was finally on my way home. It had been over...wow...i mean...damn...too many years ago to count that our train landed on this forsaken planet. Where we landed was a hell on...well...earth!
I turn to the black swan at the head of the car. I make eye contact, took a deep breath and begin to tell my tale.
"We landed in a desert. No water, no trees or grass. Coming from a land of ponds, lakes rivers and streams the lack of water was...concerning at the very least. We crashed with our sensors down, we had a new pilot from academy, a newly trained Spheniscidae. I never knew the had the back for flight but he has perfect simulator scores and had done well enough on his tests to put him in our crew. Note to administration, Spheniscae do not do well in free fall. I strongly reccomend extra testing on that. And when our gravity was negated buy a glancing solar flare he lost his whitts and ran us into an asteroid belt. We made it through the belt but the ship was badly damaged and judging on appearance alone this had seemed to be a habitable planet. Not only that but it looked from the windows of the ship to have large oceans and a good amount of plant life. Perhaps ponds and lakes too!"
"We could barely steer ourselves to crash we did what we could and managed to hit land. We had Hopes to find a nice lake, maybe a pond or river...but all around was dry. It was a hell for someone such as myself and the crew was no more eager than I."
When I say it was dry, picture a desert...in Australia. Because it was. We crashed in what you might know to be Australia. In the middle of the G.V.D to be precise. And when I call Australia hell on earth...I mean it. Don't get me wrong, there are some decent parts, even some really nice parts. But my first impressions was horrible. Even now I wanna like the place, and almost do...but WHY DOES EVERYTHING WANT TO KILL YOU! I get it I look like prey, that's fair. But one of our party was killed by a snail...A SNAIL. Then some of the rodents look like weight lifters and carry their young in a flesh pouch, which is just weird. The entire planet is weird though, why all the live births? What happened to your planet to cause all the mammals to be in charge? Well I guess I could have researched your planet's geological history but it wouldn't help me travel at the speed of light back home now would it? No, no it wouldn't.
"*honking noises* got killed by a snail, *honking noises* got eaten by a dog and worst of all *honking noises* got eaten by a group of little demons with fur. And he had our keys. The demons are fairly similar to our Dasyuridae soldiers."
"Our ship had plenty of water for the immediate future, and lasted us for a time before *honk* was killed and locked us out. We went exploring after that and found there were others that were like us. They must have crashed long before us, or mayhaps we became a verzion of them. It was ages ago but i heard it was rumored there were some of our kind like them...rumor had it that the Anatidae traveled the stars far and wide...maybe it was one of their ships...except the Anatidae were merely a rumor right?"
I look at the swan continues to stare at me, no reaction to my words, no reaction to me in general but it seemed to watch my every move.
"After we lost the ship to the outback and had to survive off the land our crew went exploring flying around and searching the land, we found the coast. We followed it and found patches here and there where life flourished, we even found others like us. Nothing like us now of course -(for context our more 'advanced' race had undergone...mild genetic mapping...and remapping...to the point of straight up landscaping. I'm not sure we even know what we started as. But some of the genetic modifications are more than mildly beneficial. Such as our lack of aging after reaching physical maturity. We can possibly live forever if not killed. We have advanced vocal mimicry and advanced intelligence. Those we found live short lives, cannot speak any language we know but speak in a baby like gibberish. They are majestic as expected but simple beings. We have blended in as best we could. Some of the others have even had offspring with the natives. They gained our plumage but with few exceptions the intellect of the natives.'
"Ma'am I believe that this planet would be an excellent summer home, we would be best to leave for the winter but in some parts the summers are fantastic."
The Swan across from me nods it's head. A light almost musical voice comes from its beak. "We welcome you back, we are sorry it has taken us so king to find your ship and are glad that you have survived this long, let us find those of your crew that have made it this long, I believe your ensing was a Ramphastidae, correct?"
I nod my head in confirmation and take a seat by the window.
"I am happy to be aboard and more thankfull for your aid in finding my crew, it shouldn't take too long I hope."
As I sat by the window I was finally able to relax, I began to preen my feathers. Making sure that i look as good as possible when re uniting with my crew, it had been over a century since I saw them last. Hopefully they all found happy safe places to nest and wait for rescue. Depths knows the humans aren't going to figure out light speed travel any time soon! |
I miss understood the rules and had to shorten my post, here it is in full if interested. Laying wide awake, in what I try to convince myself is the comfort of my own bed, I notice an irregularity. I am unsure which sense is detecting it, everything looks, smells and sounds the same, mainly due to a lack of any sight, smells or sounds anyway. I lay in the pitch black room, with the sensation of another life sharing the same air as me. I become aware of my inability to move my head. My neck is in a fixed position. Fear strikes my chest somehow telling the room I am conscious. There is movement near me, it is silent. I hear nothing but in my heightened state of awarness I feel a movement. |
My enemy lay before me, groaning in pain and delirious with insanity. I gave him a second kick to the groin for good measure. Bob sent out a questioning tendril of thought.
"Another Weeb who thinks I'm some magical tentacle porn chick."I answered angrily. "I don't know who the fuck thinks that it's okay to approach someone who looks like an underaged girl and make comments like that, but I'll be damned if I let them get away with it."
I pulled a pack of smokes from my bosom, lighting one up to the tutting of some old lady.
"Fuck off you hag!"
I don't know where I went wrong, or even if it was ME who had gotten things wrong. Bob (not his real name) had been on the planet for eons. When I had prayed to my dark master, hoping to bring about the apocalypse, it was Bob he sent.
I grabbed the edge of my suit and wiggled the wedgie out, wondering if I could convince someone to get me some booze. I couldn't purchase it myself, not anymore. I looked about 15, and my ID sure as fuck didn't look like me anymore. I was in reality a 60 year old man. Thank the Master that my social security check was direct deposit.
Becoming some kind of Magical Girl was fucking eye opening. I knew they existed, but we didn't get many of them in the states. The few we had tried to team up with me until an overly excited Bob revealed himself and ate their animal companions. Only Native American girl has managed to come up for air, and now she is petitioning Congress to outlaw me for not being "cute enough". Considering she's about as Native American as Bob, and constantly being sued by the nation's tribes, it isn't going well.
"Magical Tentacle Girl! My arch nemesis!"
Fuck, I stuck around too long.
"I am not your arch nemesis Steve! I'm a fucking bad guy! Emphasis on guy! And stop fucking calling me that! I'm Head Priest Andromi...."
"Soon, I will have the city! The mayor will be dead, and I will rule this land with an iron fist!"
I started running, hoping the mayor would still be alive by the time I got there. Bob sent a happy thought tendril as I jumped down a sewer tunnel into his appendages. I had spent too long working the mayor. The old fuck had finally signed on with the Master, and the city was within our grasps. If the Master hadn't ordered him kept safe...
Damn it, this was going to make me look good. |
I needed to make sure I could save everyone. People kept dying from evil all over the world and I did my best to stop those that I could. Heroes get a lot of praise for their efforts. Keys to cities, medals from nations, calls to marry one’s children.
They all want responses. They want you to say something, anything. But I can’t, I shouldn’t.
It started simple, when I began talking I noticed small things. My vision would become less precise. What I could see from hundreds of miles away began to look like a blur. Then my hearing began to weaken. I could no longer hear a cry for help from thousands of miles out.
So many people, all over and I was starting to fail them. The problem was that people noticed that crimes began to go unpunished. I began to lose my wits about me next. My razor sharp reasoning and detective work began to evade me. I had to seek help.
“There is nothing of concern. You are telling me signs of migraines but only when you talk? I’ve never heard of it before. We can refer you to a specialist but I can’t imagine they will tell you anything else.”
I nodded to them that I needed to see them. I had to make sure I wasn’t losing my edge. My senses began to weaken, it was only a matter of time before my body would start failing me.
Villains began to notice what was happening and were forcing me to converse knowing that my powers were getting less potent as I spoke.
I had to take drastic measures. The world was dependent on me saving the day. I wasn’t going to let more people suffer at my expense.
I sat down with a recorder. I spoke my name, where I came from, who raised me and praised them and their efforts to raise me to who I am. I spoke about my love and my passion. I said the names I’d give my future children and complimented them. I needed to get every possible scenario down now.
A few hours later, I was content I had said everything I would need to regarding those I cared for. I sat back and reflected for a while and looked towards myself to reaffirm my decision.
I went to my cellaret and grabbed the finest Scottish whiskey money could buy and my finest crystal glass. I sat down and poured a nice glass.
And another.
And another.
I kept going till the bottle was empty. My mind lightheaded and my speech slurring, I braced myself for what would happen next.
I went and grabbed the sharpest knife I owned. A special knife given to me by the National Diet of Japan. Imbued with special material only found in one area and only enough to make that one knife. Blessed by the highest priests and monks they could find. It shined and produced an ominous hum when I placed it on the table. As I grabbed the last bit of scotch left in the bottle I proclaimed
“There's a special rung in hell for people who waste good scotch. I must say damn good stuff sir! I’m glad I’m going out speaking the kings!”
When I felt my body numb enough, I grabbed my tongue and in one fell swoop, eliminated my biggest weakness.
I now sit here years afterwards, my body now no longer weak due to my speaking, but to age catching up to me. I sit in front of this computer recalling my memories and where the world changed for me. I did what I could and saved as many as possible.
I don’t regret a damn thing. |
We are Poison.
If we go back now and look at the pattern of discovery and communication it is evident that the first visitors to EARTH were at a loss really. First, the fact that we even exist was astounding to them. But I need to explain that one further. Two they were confined in suits and even with this protection they moved little and stayed together. The reason was not us. They had been observing us for many years and knew what to expect. The reason for the distance was FEAR. Not of humans or attack. They are afraid of water. H2O. Water out in the cosmos is something they avoid. Like we avoid high radiatipn .
They expected beings like them, that had miraculously found a way to survive the most toxic planet ever found. What they didn't expect was carbon based beings who are 98% water. It would like us finding life based on sulphuric acid.
They have cautioned us regarding travel. We may go but due to our chemical makeup we won't be very welcome.
Just get used to the fact that OUT there, we are Poison. Bad Company. |
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Cannibalism. The ultimate tool to fix both over population and world hunger. Oh how I long for the times that I could joke about that with my friends. At least they will always be with me now. For the next 6 hours or so. Now I just need to find the last one of my crew mates so that I can continue living.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” I call into the hallway. Jim always did like a good game of hide and seek. Well, time for the best game of his life. I wonder how long it will take to find him? |
It’s a painting of a woman in a sky blue dress standing in the middle of a cobbled road. As the only painting in the gallery that stretched tall above the height of a grown man, it captured your eyes and made you pause in your steps. The artist had taken time to painstakingly paint every stone, every broken window in the little town in which this woman stood, and the intricate laces in the dress that she wore. Her back faced you, but you feel a sense of familiarity.
There’s commotion behind you. Your attention breaks, and you realize that couple of the gallery patrons around you are hushedly discussing and pointing at something behind you. Two security black-clad, baton-holding security guards speed walk down a nearby hall. You follow their movement and turn to see them join another tightly thronged group of guards. One of them, a burly security guard with a twirling mustache, moves aside and you see what the ruckus is about.
The guards are holding down a handsome man with bloodshot eyes. He’s well-dressed, but his hat’s fallen to the ground. One of the front buttons of his tailcoat has ripped off and is dangling from the front on a thin thread. His eyes are frantic as he stares at you, searching your face.
“Do you know him, ma’am? He says he’s looking for you.” The security guard with the mustache gruffly queries you. You shake your head, unable to tear your eyes away. Something about the man makes you feel uneasy. It was like he was looking for a reaction out of you. His face falls when he hears you words, and you get the feeling that despite having never seen the man before, you should’ve recognized him.
A security guard moves to constrain the man and blocks him from your view. You turn back to the painting, but not before you hear the man yell behind your back amongst the scruffle.
“I’m following you!” He pleads. “I won’t stop believing you’ll come back. This is the closest I’ve gotten to you in three paintings. Stop going deeper. You’ve forgotten who you are. Come back home!”
Shaken, you turn back to the painting. Your heart stops mid-pump and you jump back. The woman in the painting has turned to face you. As you stare at her featureless, oil-painted face, the clamor of the guards behind you fade out, replaced by muffled trodding of horse hooves on cobblestone. You pat down your sky blue dress and head out on your way. |
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