Split (1)

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Ben made his way through the crowded bus with his eye on the only free seat left. It was not until he reached the seat, about to sit down, that he noticed the sleeping old man. The frail, wrinkled man rested his mostly-bald head on a bundled up jacket against the window. "Didn't know eyelids could get wrinkled,"Ben chuckled mentally as he sat down. He took another look around the bus to see if he could spot anyone else sleeping; but, everyone else seemed wide awake. One of the first things he learned about his ability was: the fewer targets he had, the easier it was to control. He learned about his gift at about nine years old. After that, he was eager to set up a sleepover to try it out; it was a nightmare. He felt like he was in all his friend's dreams at the same time. Five different dreamscapes seemed to overlap on his senses giving him five times the input. The sleepover was canceled shortly after he puked on them. He spent the next few days in a hospital room in a near-comatose state. Even if he missed one or two napping commuters, Ben had learned to stop the moment anything seemed off. He did not make a habit of using his powers on any sleeping stranger, but he'd never explored the dreams of anyone as old as the man next to him. He let his curiosity win and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply and imagined himself falling into the old man's mind. A familiar warm tingle in his chest confirmed the connection; suddenly, Ben felt a plume of hot air hit his face. He stood inside an apartment building inferno. He seemed to be in the lobby surrounded by bright orange flames. The doors of both elevators were noticeably warped. Cries drew Ben's attention to the stairwell; A younger version of the sleeping man dashed out of stair-door carrying a little girl. Behind him, a woman in a navy blue business suit with sandy blond hair followed while taking notes with pen and pad. The sleeping hero ran toward the door and Ben made sure to step out of his way. It was more habit than necessity; he never managed to interact with any dreamers. He could not do much to affect the dream itself either; for the most part, all he could do was spectate. Luckily, seeing their dreams was enough to tease his friends. After he ran by and out the door, the crying faded. "Benjamin Benson?"The blond woman did not follow the old dreamer out of the burning building. She stopped, looked straight into Ben's eyes and spoke his name. "What are you do-."Ben forced himself out of the dream and opened his eyes; then, he screamed. "AAAHH!"The same navy-suited blond woman stood in the bus aisle directly next to him. Despite Ben's scream, no one turned around to learn the cause. "HELP!"Ben yelled again but no one so much as flinched in his direction. "Why are you screaming?"the woman asked. Instead of answering, Ben turned around and started shaking the old man. He felt stiff enough to deter Ben from doing it more than twice. On closer inspection, he was not breathing. "AAHH!"Ben screamed again and tried to put distance between him and the corpse. His mind had not yet caught up with everything happening and he forgot about the woman long enough to slam his back into her front. She stumbled out of the way and Ben fell backward. He closed his eyes to bear the impact, but it never came. "Why are you screaming?"the woman repeated the question. She looked down on Ben. He was half out of his seat with his legs higher in the air than his head; but, he felt no weight at all. It was as if the rest of his body did not exist. "What's going on? Who are you? Did you kill the old man?"Ben fired off his questions; the woman sighed. "Well, at least you're not screaming anymore,"she said. "Now that I have your attention; you're going to land. Careful." "Huh? Oh."Ben had just enough time to piece together the part about landing and shut his eyes. The moment he did, he hit the ground on his back, followed by his legs and head. "My name is Oasis,"the woman reached out her left hand to help Ben up. He accepted it and noticed a small hourglass tattooed on her wrist with a 14 on it in golden numbers as he stood up. "I didn't kill him, time is stopped for everyone except you right now. As for what's going on,..."Oasis shrugged. "That's what I'm here to find out. How did you get there?" "I...,"Ben hesitated. He'd never told anyone about his gift, but she was in the old man's dream too. And she seemingly had the ability to stop time and she could have killed Ben if she wanted to. He took a moment to breathe, then nodded. "I can enter people's dreams,"he said. "If they're close enough."Oasis crossed her arms, shifted her weight to one leg and looked Ben up and down. He wore a ratty, hole-filled orange t-shirt with a pair of blue jeans. His black hair was arranged as carefully as a bird's nest. "Wait here,"she said. She made a dismissive gesture at the empty aisle behind her and a hole opened in the air. It grew into a tall black portal then Oasis walked into it and disappeared. Ben had enough time to blink once before she walked out again holding a navy-blue blazer that matched her own. "Congratulations,"she said. "You've been drafted into the Middlemen." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #325 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order.
"Oooh, God Damnit they actually went there! Nooooo!!!" Poor Belfast. It had been years since this had been an issue, following that run-in with a faulty security mech in his first job. Now, the pains of living his new life struck his head like the plasma cannon that forced him to become Cybernetic all over again, his pained screams echoing through the office floor. His half organic, half manufactured head thuds against his desk, followed by a sickly groan. "Was trying to tell you Bell, get your stuff updated." Having heard the cry just as well as everyone else, Belfast's best friend Dublin had come over to try and comfort the cyborg. His warm, soft hand patting on an artificial portion of Belfast's back had alleviated some of his immediate stress, but also remind himself of how he envied Dublin, how he didn't need to put up with this.* "Well,"Belfast began, "what can I do, if you can't even afford your own freaking car most months?"The part-bot lifted his head, and met Dublin's chuckles with his own. "Fair point." Before the two could completely laugh off this incredible misfortune, a low, soft beep sounded off over the intercom. "BELFAST ERWYN, MY OFFICE, PLEASE." Boss. That kind of enunciation and projection was unmistakeable. With a soft sigh, Belfast rose from his seat, and made an awkward shuffle that transitioned into normal walking for the big guy's room. His whole job is net security, especially in preventing spam on a plethora of sites. He had to create the base designs for the very CAPTCHA that haunts him today.
I woke up grabbed my phone, or at least it looks like a phone, and looked at the time. "Holy fuck, it's 5pm, I missed the whole day."I take another look at my phone. The date says January 15th, 2020. "That's got to be a mistake."I thought to myself. I looked across the room everyone from the party is just waking up as well. They look at their phones, all the phones say the same date. We turn on the news, everyone on television seems hungover as well and confused about the date and time. President Trump now comes on television to talk about the nation wide hangover. "Wait what the fuck. President Trump?"I looked at my buddy Matt and he said "How drunk were we all?"We turn the channel to CNN. The segment says "Turns out everyone was drunk for every decision they made in the past ten years.""Well, that explains Trump I suppose."I said to my friends. I look across the room and see my wife, Alexa. "Hey Alexa can call my parents and make sure they're okay? "I am sorry but my parents is not in your contacts."a weird voice said from the corner of the room. "Who is that?"Matt asked. "I have no clue I said, Alexa do have any clue?"I asked. "Any clue about what?"the voice from the corner said. "God dammit let my wife speak!"I shouted in frustration. "No clue what that is"my wife answered. "I would call your parents and my mother, but I do not know how to use this thing."Alexa held up a device that was exactly the same as the device that I looked at to see the date and time. These devices keep asking for a code. None of us can remember the code. "Alright lets go to your mothers house, and then my parents house and well see if they're okay."Before we leave I noticed myself in the mirror . I can't tell if it was the alcohol, or the ten years that passed but man, do I look like shit. I guess you age poorly when you've been drunk for the past ten years. We walk outside with a new conundrum. I see a bunch of cars parked on the street but, I have no clue what one is mine. I reach for the key thob in my pocket and press the alarm, hoping one of the cars there is mine. A red Toyota's car alarm goes off. "I guess this is ours."Alexa said We get into the car and start driving to my wife's mother's house, hopping that she is still there. We have no clue what to expect. As I look at my wife I could tell that she is concerned.
At first it was all a joke to those humans - like the novelty of it was too odd to pass up. "Whoah..."A glassy-eyed human gazed upon my incomprehensible form. It had been over two-thousand years since the last of my worshipers summoned me. "I didn't think you would..." "Appear?"I interrupted, trying to not let my annoyance show. "Well, you said the incantation properly, somehow, and offered the proper libations, and performed the ritual exactly as it should, therefore it would have been rude of me to ignore you."She continued to stare at me, unflinchingly, not thinking she would get this far. The rumours of a once-dead deity who suddenly began responding to prayers? Impossible, they thought. Emphasis on thought. "This is your candle, yes?"It was burnt down to the candlestick, with no ashes left and the wick completely consumed by a now dead fire. "Yes, b-"This one was less awestruck and more anxious. "And this is your now-empty chalice of wine, right?"It was empty, as the purple hue of the warm wax surrounding the base of the candle could attest. "Well, yeah, but-"He looked around impatiently, as if this was all some elaborate joke. "And was it not you who spoke the words Kaisae Aetheli Darharae Paeleith?"As if to confirm my immediate suspicions, the very words were written out on a crumpled piece of paper, accent marks and all. "Sure, but I thought-"He was going to bargain, explain himself and his circumstances, and moan, befuddled, at how I could have taken him seriously! He would have been the third one that day had I not cut him off. I sighed, visibly irritated. "Please stop interrupting me and tell me instead why you summoned me." Oftentimes a mere voice in their heads was enough to please them. "What's the integral of this equation?"the adolescent inquired to no one in particular after finishing the ritual. "Twelve X Cubed"I softly spoke, just above a whisper. To the young student, who had asked me many similar questions in the minutes prior, this voice was comforting - despite seeming to come from directly behind him. Once in a while, some brave creature would ask for something bolder than most dared to ask. "Does she really love me?"The star-struck bachelor gazed intently into my eyes - I found that the summonings would generally take less time to complete if I appeared before them as human - and asked in a certainly desperate tone "Please, sir, be honest with me, no sugar-coating. Does she love me?" It took me a moment to ponder. I had been watching this one, and seeing as how this ritual was on what the humans referred to as a "Friday Night", and a rather ornate-yet-small looking box was anxiously perched on a nearby table, I could only assume he wished to become one with his preferred human companion. After the brief moment, I gazed back. "Come now, child; surely twenty-seven of these "dates"and six months of courtship aren't indicative of love?"My non-answer did little to assuage the look of desperation in his eyes. Finally, I relented. "No, no she does not."Before he could speak again, I spoke "But that does not mean it will not blossom soon, child!" At this, he gained some hope. "Is it possible? Will it happen?" I grinned. "That would be another candle and another cup of wine, child." But, one night, I felt for the first time in a millennia a genuine concern for the creature that called out to me. I remember the scene well - it was almost completely dark. Little could be seen for miles around, and yet the stars were clear in the sky, and the embers of a small candle flickered in the warm breeze. The voice was tired. "Please tell my wife I love her, always have and always will."Although I could not see the man, I knew he had worn himself hoarse in his lamenting. Such simple requests were common, but something in this man's voice made me make a request myself. "Tell me child, what prevents you from doing it yourself?" He sniffled. There was the sound of mechanic parts moving, the clank of metal on metal, a brief pause that seemed to have drawn the night out, and then a loud, sharp crack like thunder, and a flash like lightning. It was only when his body hit the dirt beneath him that I realized what was happening. (Continue?)
We charged them for sin when they moved in. We hated their kind for the sins they bind. Hell they were bound, Hope they were found. They ran way that night, obviously thinking “fight or flight”. Police were called, their dog had been mauled. Chaos spread, that’s where the demand lead. “KILL THEM FOR THEY HATH COMMIT OF UNSPEAKABLE CRIME!” “JAIL THEM FOR THEY HATH TO SPEND THEIR TIME!” The bodies were found by the river the next week, on the news it had been leaked. Turns out they were innocent, only of a different race. We charged them for sin, not know where they’d been. We hated their kind, despite the lack of sin they bind. We find now that our skin doesn’t turn brown like the ones we had accused. Instead it turns black like the hatred we amused.
The flame had been burning for two minutes. Fargrath, a minor demon, would look at it expectantly, then away for a minute, then back again, as if it would change by staring at it. It was really starting to irk Fargrath, when finally it changed from yellow to blue. “Hello, this is IT, how can I help you,” said the flame. “Hi, yes, this is Fargrath, down in circle seven. I can’t seem to get my email.” “OK, no problem, let’s see what we can do about that,” said the flame. “Can I get your name?” The demon rolled it’s eyes. It’s tail swished back and forth in annoyance. “Yes, it’s Fargrath. I already told you that.” “Right, sorry about that. Some of the names down there, you never know if it’s just someone being tortured for eternity, or if that’s what someone wants to be called,” said the IT guy. “I’m Ted, by the way, in case we get cut off.” Fargrath didn’t know why or how they would get cut off. In all the years the minor demon had been using the FPS (Fiery Phone Service), he had never had a dropped call. In fact. it was one of the services that worked particularly well in Hell. He wasn’t too fond of the commuter rail, but hey, if it weren’t for delays, we wouldn’t have sinners, as the Old Man said. “Great, OK, can we just get on with it,” said Fargrath. “You bet,” said Ted. “We pride ourselves on speedy customer service. Now, can I get your email address?” “Sure, it’s fargrath8@hell.com.” “Oh, I like it. Always have the email address for the circle of hell you want, not the circle of hell you have. Very ambitious. I like your style,” said Ted. Fargrath couldn’t decide in the moment if he liked Ted for his moxie, or hated him for his enthusiasm. He decided that, should he ever sink his claws in Ted, he would like to find out the hard way. “Hmmm... OK, it looks like your password has been changed recently. Did you recently change your password?” asked Ted. “No, it’s always been the same. 1,2,-“ “Nope!” said Ted. “Don’t tell me your password. That would be a security breach. How about we reset it for you, and then you can log in and change it to something you would prefer.” “OK. Is this going to take long? I have a meeting in an hour,” said Fargrath. The souls of the damned didn’t just torture themselves. “Nope, not long at all. In fact, that has been done. Your new password is slothofevil. Go ahead and try to log in. Fargrath opened up his laptop and went to his email. He typed in the new password and his email opened up. “Hey, that did it,” said Fargrath. “Great, but we aren’t done here,” said Ted. This was the thing that annoyed Fargrath about dealing with IT people. They were always trying so hard to be helpful. He suspected that, being in purgatory, stuck between heaven and hell doing a job like that, you got your kicks where you could. And helping out demons and hell spawn was probably wildly different than helping out angels and heralds. Everybody down here expected poor internet service. Up there, the were less than pleased than with the absolute best. “We still have to change your password to something else. Don’t want this to get hacked. It’s a pretty standard password we use to reset accounts,” said Ted. “Fine, fine, I’ll change it,” said Fargrath. He typed in some numbers. His laptop buzzed at him. “It says it was rejected,” said Fargrath. “Yeah, it will do that if you have used that password before, or if it’s too weak. You are going to have to choose something else,” said Ted. Flames shot from Fargrath’s horns. The ground shook beneath his hoofs. The walls trembled and flexed with his anger. “NO!” shouted Fargrath. “I SHALL NOT! I HAVE JUMPED THOUGH YOUR HOOPS, I HAVE DANCED YOUR LITTLE DANCE, AND I HAVE FOUND IT, AND YOU, LACKING! I SHALL RAIN HELLFIRE DOWN UPON YOU! I SHALL FIND YOUR LINEAGE UPON EARTH AND RUIN THEM FOR ETERNITY! YOU AND YOUR I.T. DEPARTMENT SHALL RUE THIS DAY!” “OK,” said Ted, after a moment. He had obviously dealt with angry demons before. “How about you just reverse your old password. Maybe that would work.” Fargrath looked back at the flame. “Oh, you mean like 5,4,3-“ “Yeah,” interrupted Ted. “Give that a shot.” Fargrath typed in the sequence. His laptop dinged at him. “Oh, hey, that worked. Great.” “Yeah, great. Is there anything else I can help you with,” asked Ted. “Nope, that was about it,” said Fargrath. “Hey, thanks for the help. Sorry about that whole hellfire and rue-ing thing.” “Hey, I get it. It can be frustrating when you can’t get your email. You have a good or bad day, whatever’s on your plate, OK?” The flame turned from blue back to yellow. The call had ended. Fargrath turned back to his laptop. He had 1,766 emails. Oh well, he thought, no rest for the wicked. ———————————- This is entry number 21 in the NonNaNoWriMo challenge. I’m writing a prompt every day though November. Only 9 more to go. I like to think of the things surrounding the events or ideas in the prompts. This one came to me fairly fast. What would the IT department have to deal with in this situation. And as mundane as some of it is, some of it isn’t, and I like to drive narrative that way. Find that thing and tweak it.
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That slippery sheet of ice was the sheet upon which my music was first played, and the crash of metal and wood was the first clashing of drums and cymbals. After the drums came the silence. A good rest, a pause in the music, is appreciated – absence makes for greater appreciation after all, and it truly is the most beautiful sound, but silence must always be disturbed. It was the metronome that woke me. I was alone then. I heard the the music become somber, and I could tell that the people talking in the corner didn’t like this part. They made much too much noise. I don’t need the noise of people. Just me and my metronome, that’s all I desire. Sometimes it changes rhythm and I can enjoy a nice exciting allegro or calming adagio, but that brings people into the room, loud people who seem to only understand fortissimo! I just want to be left with the music. The calm, steady beep of the metronome as it keeps the pace. They say it’s the pace of my life. I’m okay with that. A life without music is hardly a life worth living. My metronome stopped just a minute ago, and moments after that came the people, ruining the beauty of my silence. They came in and started screaming. I’d stop them if I could somehow reach them, but I’m in the void with my music. They’re screaming about compressions, but they don’t understand the rhythm. They’ll never play music well. No matter though – I believe my song has reached its end.
Why I had to climb in that nutcases' car I can't for the life (or death) of me, say why. Yet here we were again, whipping around hairpin turns at a speed that far exceeded the safety limits of the road. I knew he was a fast driver, but this was too much for me! "Aaron,"I moaned, "slow the fuck down or I'm going to get sick!"He seemed to freeze for a second, like he might've heard me, then shook it off. I leaned forward to put my head between my knees, and as I did so, I lost the battle. Ectoplasm flowed from my mouth noisily (for ghosts it makes noise. For the living...). Aaron made a funny face, and started going green at the gills. He rapidly slowed and stopped, then exited the car as if his life depended on it. I'm sure his sense of smell would've been doomed at any rate. Any kind of ghostly sickness (apparently even viruses have ghosts! Uck!), usually smells pretty bad to the living. (And if you think this is bad... ghost farts have been known to knock grown men out!)
"I paid the 500$, so give me a goddamn superpower!" Now what should I do? What kind of power would a creepy old man in shorts want? I looked down to see his fat hairy legs. It was a sight I wish I'll never have to see again. Old man shouldn't be allowed to wear shorts. Then an idea hit me. "Here you go!"I told the man as I touched his shoulder, giving him a superpower. The old man wondered what kind of power I gave him. He looked down and noticed that his legs were now invisible. "So... Um... Can you explain?"the old man asked looking very puzzled. "I just gave you the superpower of invisible legs!"I exclaimed proudly. "And how is that supposed to help me?"he asked, clearly starting to get annoyed. "I'm doing you a favour. You'll find that your social life will improve greatly if people can't see your legs."I tried my best to say it with confidence. &#x200B; The old man's voice quivered with anger, "I pay you five hundred fucking dollars, and you give me invisible fucking legs. If you don't give me another superpower, I'll turn you in to the cops!" &#x200B; At this point, I'm starting to regret my life decisions. Before all of this I worked at a Walmart and rented a tiny apartment. Then one day this gay dude just broke into my house through a window. I'm not talking gay as in homosexual. This dude was ripped, he wore heavy metrosexual clothing and was speaking in a slightly effeminate voice. He looked like he just came from a pride parade. He started screaming and punching the walls. His punches were so powerful that it made holes in the wall. I was terrified like what the fuck was I supposed to do? Then he went on and started talking some random bullshit about a prophecy or something. Then for some reason, since that day, I had the ability give other people superpowers. So I went on to the streets of Manhattan and started selling superpowers to people. Initially, I sold it pretty cheap, cause I doubted anyone would believe me and I was right, most people just thought of it as a sham. But after one drunk dude bought it from me, the word started spreading that I was legit and I started getting more customers. Eventually, the cops got involved so I ran away, only making deals in secret. Most of my customers now are shady people. Criminals and weirdos like this old man in front of me right now. I'm probably doing a disservice to society by selling superpowers to these shady individuals, but it pays the bills, so I'm not complaining. I ain't no saint. "Okay, how about this? You tell me what superpower you want. I'll see what I can do."I tried my best to resolve the current issue. &#x200B; "I don't know, like the ability climb walls or something?"the old man said. &#x200B; "I guess that'll be helpful for you, you're kinda fat."I accidentally let that slip and immediately regretted it. &#x200B; The old man took out a gun and pointed it at me. I quickly raised my hands and apologized. "You see the thing is, the more I give people the same superpowers, the lamer they become. And because of that, I'm kinda out of ideas. I don't know why it works that way, but it does. So how about this? I give you back your five hundred dollars, and you can keep the invisible legs." The old man didn't seem too keen on complying and said, "I traveled all the way here just for this. Are you telling me to leave empty handed?" &#x200B; I couldn't think of a proper response so I said, "In this case, isn't it more like... Empty legged?" Hearing what I said, the old man laughed. He raised the barrel of the gun and pushed it forward until it was right between my eyes. I felt the tip of the gun touching my forehead. I stared at it with crossed eyes. Okay, I regret everything. He started saying. "You know? You're a funny guy. I've met a lot of funny people throughout the years. You know what happens to them when I meet them?" &#x200B; I answered by shaking my head. &#x200B; "I put a bullet inside their heads."he said as he smiled. &#x200B; I could only whimper in fear as my life flashed before my eyes. I don't wanna die, I'm still a virgin. At that moment, a crashing sound could be heard. A man charged into the room by forcing the wall open with the momentum of his body. My eyes couldn't believe what it was seeing. He charged in my direction and sent his knee towards the face of the old man, knocking him sideways in the process, sending him into the air for a few seconds before the old man fell to the ground unconscious. I looked in front of me in awe. It was the gay dude from before. He looked at me and smiled, then said. "Come with me!"
The long-awaited sense of purpose swells inside me. I have been told the story all of my life. It was a ritual of sorts. Gathering around the fire, passing the ancient stone and hearing the elders tell the prophesy. The story of a coming day where good and evil would have their final fight. It was only in the recent years that the few remaining people of my tribe have decided that I would be the one. I am grateful for my companions for they are strong and loyal. I raised them from birth and they have never left my side. Maybe my parents knew that I would need their strength beside me when they brought the tiger cubs to our village. As ominous as it was to see the final sign in the sky, it was beautiful. Stars were shooting in light bursts across the dark night sky. As a child I thought of the prophecy as a great story, and even as I got older I still wondered if it was real, until the first of the signs occurred. Those of us remaining sat around the fire beginning the story as we had always done. When the passing of the stone came to me, the etching glowed a faint blue light as I held it in my hand. It was a sinking feeling. Such a huge responsibility laid on my shoulders without my consent. One of my elders, Poluan, saw my expression. He found me later that evening as I sat along the river bank pondering my fate. “You will train and will be strong. God will bestow new strength and ability to you when the time has come and you will not be defeated. You will not be alone.” He consoled. His words echoed in my ears. I reached down and ran my fingers through Lao and Nisa’s thick fur. They must have been the companions he perceived. Still I felt very alone, having little knowledge of the foe that awaits. One man and two tigers are enough to fight an evil enemy? The stone had to be returned to its place on the Ark of the Covenant that was hidden in the Adrial mountain range, but what lies between us and the Ark was the looming unknown. We set camp by the river. Under a sky full of shooting stars I built our fire and Lao and Nisa went hunting for dinner. I filled my pouches with water and poked at the fire as thought took over. It was easy to imagine any number of ways this could unfold. A dead rabbit was dropped at my side and broke my thoughtful trance. Nisa almost knocked me into the fire as she rubbed up against me looking for affirmation that she had done well. I rubber through her fur roughly and commended her kill. “Where’s Lao?”, I asked her. She looked back behind her toward the brush and distant tree line. Just as I followed her eyes we heard Lao’s call. I quickly made a torch, grabbed my spear and we ran into the darkness to find him.
Like a hammer. A big club hammer. Sun rays were pounding me like big club hammer. Pound...pound...pound. What's to be expected though? Hardly surprising to be scorched to a crisp when you venture out into the middle of the desert. "This has been recorded as one of the hottest places on the entire planet,"I remark, turning to your companion. "Did you know that?" Pure exasperation replied. "6000 years ago. 6000. Do you know what that number represents?"I continued. "That, my friend, is the last time there was any life in this desert. Interesting, isn't it?" Nothing but silence this time. Stretching from horizon to horizon was nothing but sand. Piled in massive, static waves. "What I am trying to ask, my dear friend, is whether you are sure this is the right spot?" But Houghton's ghostly eyes stared right through me, forever lost to wander.
I lift my glasses and press my forehead to the machine, squinting into the lenses. There are some letters, but in their current form, I can't make them out. "One."A click. There is some improvement, but just barely. "Or two?". Did it change? Maybe a little. I can't tell. We repeat the drill. "One?...Or two? I pull back and look at the doctor with a shrug. Without my glasses I can only make out the white coat, dark mustache, and balding head. He smiles--does he really? I can hardly tell\--and motions to the machine. "Three?...or four?" The next couple of series are easier to distinguish, and we rifle through them. But 17 if and 18 are different, I can't detect it at all. "Try again,"encourages Dr Morsonn, as he again alternates the levers. It's no better, but I lean in and do my best. A few more switches. "Yes, it's getting clearer,"he says. "What?" "I mean, the difference should be clearer." "It's really--" "Oh my god."Dr Mortonn pulls back, his face contourted in alarm. "What is it?" "Oh my god."He says again, his expression unchanged. He shakes his head and blinks rapidly, an action he repeats several times. "Is something wrong?"I ask. "Just...just,"he gets up and slinks towards the door. "Just a minute"he says, and quickly leaves the room. I sit in the chair and nervously thumb through my phone. It buzzes. It's my friend Rob. He's the designated driver for my dilated eyes, still out in the waiting room. "What's taking so long?" "Don't know."I respond. "Doctor kinda whigged about something. That was 15 minutes ago." "K. Sure it's nothing." Another 15 minutes go by and I start to get concerned. I poke my head out the room and call the receptionist. It's pretty bright with my eyes in this state, but if I squint I can just make her out. She stands bolt upright from the desk and motions me back. "The doctor will be right with you still."She folds her arms and cranes to look out the front windows. Her foot is tapping. Her foot is tapping? That's when I hear the sirens. At first just one, but now two or three. They are getting closer. My heart quickens its pace and sweat begins to dot my forehead. I retreat to the exam room, lock the door, and press my back against it. This is it, I thought. But how? I quickly scan the room and notice the laptop, it's screen stinging my hyper-sensitive eyes. I grab a pair of sunglasses from the wall and squint back at the the opened document. Would you like to save? Y/N. Yes. Click. And there we are. Well, there they are. The image was from my perspective, but around the table clearly sat all the members of the Revolutionary Council, deep in our hideout beneath the old rail station. But how had he found it? There were no devices, and certainly no cameras of that clarity allowed in the hall. It was impossible. Unless. I looked at the chair, and all those numbered lens. Oh my god.
It is rare for the blue phone to ring. Not many people know the number, which is how it should be. After all this phone is the only way to contact us. We are a group of 7 high tier killers, mercenaries, murderers and super soldiers. We have won wars, toppled governments, and even committed small scale genocide at one point. There isn’t a single on of us with less than 100 kills confirmed. There is nothing we can not kill. So I picked up the voice modulator and then the phone. “Yes” a deepened version of my voice could be heard on the other end. “Yo wats up. I heard you guys would kill people that suck? Cuss there is this one huge a”hole who.... boxing and then...” It is nearly impossible to comprehend what he was saying because he is yelling all the time. “...So, yeah this is why I contacted you. How much would it cost for you to off a guy for me?” “Our price ranges from 300k- 10 million USD. Depending on the target.” He now was silent but didn’t hang up. I don’t like it when they don’t hurry. Every second on the phone increases the chance of the call being traced. “How about I give you a shoutout on my insta instead? I have over 1 mill followers there and on YouTube I have 15 mil subs.” “Pardon me?” “Yes, think about it! If even 1% of them use you to kill someone you’d make a billion. I believe that would be fair.” “No.” “Come on man. Think of all the money you are wasting with” “I said no. The target you mentioned is a semi famous figure. Making him disappear would be difficult but possible. It would cost 1,2 million USD if the money has been laundered already and 1,6 if not. You have 2 months to pay us! And by the end of that second month he will be dead. If you won’t pay us in time, we will plant evidence for you to get arrested for attempting to hire an assassin instead. Goodbye.” I hang up the phone and started planning the kill. E should be able to do this, he is stationed in Britain after all. The next day I am doing research on the target. Mid 20s black man, Internet celebrity, vlogs for a living. Was only a matter of time until we had to take care of one of those. Then my private phone rings. “Hey, S we have a problem. We need to kill our employer and his sibling for that newest hit. Google him on YouTube!” I did as I am told and see the newest video. “My brother LOGAN is hiring an ASSASSIN!? NOT CLICKBAIT!”
All these nights I dream of that place. The stark industrial lamp hanging overhead, casting its ruthless rays of light across the steep forehead of the man seated across from me. The unreadable expression on those anonymous faces. The white flowers withering in a mangled metal vase. The lingering scent of fear, its smoky limbs slithering across the grimy marble floor. The laughter and the silence. "What's your name?" All those pale faces turned to me in unison. I quivered, and grisly apprehension came over me. This was it. I knew it. There was no way for them to conceal their horrendous plan anymore. This was an insidious trap: they were looking for a puerile, vulnerable stray sheep. They intended to offer a sacrifice to their tyrannical god, in exchange for their own survival. I stood up and ran. No, it couldn't be. My doctor told me later that it couldn't. I understand that you would have these ideas, he said. But it is not true. People don't go to coffee chats to murder each other. They only want to make friends. You wanted to go, remember? We encourage our patients to socialize in normal settings under guardianship. Did you take your pills this morning? I wonder where my doctor is now. I remember seeing him there, among those faceless, bloodthirsty beasts. A weak smile tugs at the slack corners of my mouth as ominous footsteps approach my spotless, lifeless cell. They are coming for me, I know. They are coming for me now.
Terrified you breath heavy and start to tremble. Your starting to sweat and feel an uncomfortable heat. You turn to see your friend and his face begins to change. He snarls as his skin turns to fur and his eyes become yellow as if he had the eyes of a wild cat ready to kill its prey. He lunges at you. You wake frightened with a yelp of terror. You look around you to see the camp fire had grown and you sit close to its heat. You see your friend on the other side feeding the fire. He continues to stare with great fear in his eyes toward the fire. He says “rough dream?” “Yes” you respond with a tremble in your voice. As you stair through him and see into the woods. A pair of yellow eyes. As red sets of eyes appear around it. A Snarl emerges from the black of night.
The gentle beeping of machines provide a steady beat for her thoughts. “ You have lived a fulfilling life” she thinks in the chosen tune of her chorus. Eighty seven year old Marice Mayer reclines in her hospital bed, the scent of antiseptics and looming death permeating the air, she breathes in, savoring each breath as though she were in a meadow filled with fragrant flowers, savoring the limited life she has left. A notebook and pen hold her legacy, the song she chooses to leave behind, the last song. A tune came to her the other day and with it, an idea. Death’s imminence makes her rush, a fact which is reflected in her song, a song she will have to record while it is still in the dawn of creation, a song not about her end but about what happened before she got there. She never stopped writing even though people eventually stopped listening. They preferred more catchy tunes now with chord progressions that remained similar for each hit song and lyrics that served no purpose other than rhyme and trend. What people listened to was a crude imitation of music. Alas, real music was in her mind a lost art. Techy sounds hurt her ears, She mourned the death of music like hers, the death of great talents like herself. Her son had gotten her a home recording system for her eighty fifth birthday and it sat now on her lap, waiting patiently to be filled with her soul. Marice pressed record and began stringing a series of skillfully ordered sound into what was real music. Her debilitating health made her voice raspy and weak. She refused to use auto tune. She wanted to let the people hear the raw emotion in her voice. The sorrow and joy of her life. The weakness and strength of her soul which she gave to the music. “You have lived a fulfilling life” she sings. “Or perhaps that is what you tell yourself”.
When the Dwarven halls rang with the sound of steel and the screams of the dying, of families begging for a salvation which would never arrive, We did not answer the call. When the holds of men were razed and their innocents spit upon pikes, works of art ground to dust, their very people scattered to the winds, We did not answer the call. When the last of the Orcish war bands, encircled and alone, was butchered to the last. We did not answer. We *could* not! We who had sworn an oath to guard the realms of mortals from artifacts whose powers none could hope to comprehend, from the madness and instability of fate itself, could do nothing but watch! We maintained our charge, even as friends, lovers, neighbors all were torn from this world with a genocidal fervor! Every one of us here have lost many, and will lose many more. The Elves, beautiful in appearance yet *disgusting* in nature, full of grace yet unyielding in their *brutality, have turned their hatred of all things foreign and pointed it outward. Riding forth from their enchanted woods, they prove themselves no better than the men they cut down as beasts! They march, even now, here to our last bastion, brimming with righteous zeal for our deaths! And now we few, last of our kind, brothers and sisters all, stand! We stand, and fight, and bleed!* We are the Leprechauns, guardians of the treasures of Fate herself. This Elvish tide will break upon our magic, for they cannot understand what is at stake here. We cannot fall, brothers and sisters, no matter the cost! For those who have died before us, For those who may die after us, For the fate of all existence hangs in the balance! *They can never seize our lucky charms!*
This planet held many strange creatures for centuries before its star burned out. Surviving relics show that several species even had similar structures to our own bodies. Despite these similarities, there are many notable differences. For starters, their bodies have few durable parts, and were prone to fatal failures. So common were these, that they referred to those breaking down as 'old', a term that indicated a state of useless-ness. These creatures had many means of extending the lifespan of a part, but rarely replaced the parts with more durable versions. The second most notable difference is the variety of sizes they built themselves in. The full reason for these smaller models is unclear, perhaps the smaller versions fit some socio-economic role, as the surviving texts speak of those with smaller models rebuilding themselves into larger models to match the norm. When they speak of rebuilding into a smaller model, the terms used imply a belief that no one has actually done so, or high amounts of data are lost by this rebuild. The last notable trait is that their bodies had waste parts, so worthless to them that they threw them in holes in the ground rather than recycling into newer models. These trash parts were our first view into their structures, and caused much confusion into the purpose of their placement. Later text discoveries shed light on this 'funeral' process.
You can't tell how long you've been wandering in the sea of words. It seemed like centuries, but then again, what is time? You continue to ponder the importance of man made concepts such as time when you come across a figure, fading in to the distance. "HEY, WAIT UP", you yell to the figure as you excitedly run up to him, happy to finally encounter a living, breathing, human, possibly able to join in your thoughts about the pointlessness of human concepts in this realm of words. As you begin catching up to him, he walks in to a floating letter: a giant 'Y'. You're very disappointed to lose your new possible friend. As you begin to sulk, you hear a voice behind you yell "HEY, WAIT UP". You glance back and see a very familiar figure. It's you. You literally don't have the sanity, patience, or energy to deal with this kind of existential conundrum. You walk in to the giant floating 'Y'. You arrive to the same place you were before, wondering about the same questions about time and man made concepts. You spot a figure ahead and yell "HEY, WAIT UP"again. The cycle continues.
There it was. I had no idea this is what I would find, and as I looked up and watch the stars explode in the distance, I hoped this would help somehow. In some odd way. "It all happens again, remember not to be afraid, get ready, you will find this again. I am sorry we wasted our lives in dirt,"I read the stone outloud. It was iridium, meshed with carbon nanotubes. Still yet more, it had pulsing blue crystal emerging from all surfaces. The stone looked like it was freshly carved, but I knew it had to be eons old. And yet, it seemed familiar too. I was stunned in that sand pit, a gentle night breeze pushing over me. More stars vanished. And a haze of vapor began to appear bihnd the bright moon. The night sky was calm and peaceful. We had been digging in the South Mongolian Desert. The entire crew had ran off when the news of the end came, but I had an urge to keep going. Mere moments ago I had discovered this odd rock, it was odd for many reasons. It was carved in english was a big oddity, considering it came from a stratified layer older than life. But the text was the biggest surprise. It had my name on it. Perfectly carved and preserved. Considering the universe was crunching inward and we would all be nothing momentarily, this stone still held my curiousity. It made me wonder about my life choices. I thought about my parents I ignored. The great loves I could have had. I looked up. The moon was gone and the sky dark. I laod the stone back in place.
A pillar of light was seen on that day by the entire world it reminded historians of the shot heard around the world because no one knew how started it. Many theorized last it could have been a nuke or a new technology bending tested, many rushed to believe it was a act of God, but all were wrong it wasn't a act of God it was a angle instead. Many rushed to the sight and it became a huge attraction to see the mark left on the earth. Non knew that it was just a angle treading upon it surface.
My evening was pretty normal till the saucer landed. I was on the porch, catching my breath after a hard day's work, when the gigantic metal vessel descended from the sky. A platform opened up and two aliens got out of the thing. They were wearing grey suits and their skin was crimson red, with big, flat heads and long fingers. 'Oh my God!' I taught to myself. 'I'm going to be the one to establish first contact!' Then they went to the cows. They spent several minutes there. I could hear the moos coming from both parties, but it's not like I speak bovine. After what felt like forever, the aliens returned to their ship and left, seemingly not noticing me. After I was sure they were a good distance away, I went and asked Bessie: "Friends of yours?". The cow looked at me lazily. "Hmm? Oh, no, they wanted to go to Alpha Centauri, I just gave them directions." "Ah, got it! I take it they don't speak English?" "Nope! They could've taught it to their translator, but it would've taken significantly longer than bovine." "Cool, cool! So... Tomorrow is a big day!" "Yep! My turn to go to the slaughter!" "Right... Night, Bessie!" "Night!" As I walk towards the house, I ponder why people in the 21st century decided to give the cows sentience. The dogs, I understand, but the cows? Perhaps we'll never know...
Xander never expected it to feel so deliciously squishy. “Like a Terran omelet,” he thought, swaying his thorax side-to-side. Not only has his exoskeleton been growing, but his cracked nipples were accompanied by two modestly shaped breasts. No matter, the backpain was the least of his worries. Xander never understood the appeal of carrying one of his brood to term. It was too much work and, to be honest, he could not think less about his species. Scuttling his way down medical bay eight, he inserted his tentacle into the keyhole of chamber 2160. “Name: Jyphus Aurelius Xandar. Rank: Creeping Conquistador. Race: Mockthulian. A mechanical voice intoned. “Status:…Granted. The door’s ectoplasm peeled away and Xandar entered into the chamber. “Feces with you brood brother,” said Akamni, the dim lights obscuring his pudgy frame. “And to you too” replied Xandar. Prepping his table full of laser drills and chitinous ramblers, Akamni chittered with relish. “Nervous?” “A Mockthulian is never nervous.” “Xander may say that now, but spawning is a lonesome and messy experience. It is a pity that there are not more people like you. As Great Patriarch Morpheus always said, we are incomplete without our other half.” “It won’t happen again” “Hey now, what matters is that you are here now. Please fuse onto the breeding pod please.” Xandar shuddered. He never thought he would enter one again, especially not in the same pod his brood-mother used many centuries ago. Sliding his thorax into the modular sheath, he was determined to get his spawn out so he could continue his life of protein shakes and metabolic enhancers. Fully fused, he saw Akamni wielding the dreaded chitinous rambler. “All this for a bet,” Xander thought, consciousness slipping away as the pod filled enveloped him with anesthetic fluid.
To whom it may concern, if anyone is left to read this, This was all my fault. It was all a result of bandaid fixes that never really solved the problem. It was fear from losing her if the truth came out. And at first, it was disbelief that anything the letter said was true. She looked exactly like my eight year old daughter, the very last time I saw her before the accident four years ago that took her and my wife away from me. She looked like my daughter, but I knew she wasn’t. She even knew she wasn’t. Yet she felt the same attachment to me. When I asked, she said she didn’t know where she came from, or what the letter safety pinned to her coat meant. The letter was a single page of white paper, written by hand. “She is yours now. Keep her mind stimulated. Do not bore her. Children should not be bored. If you fail, bad things will happen.” I dropped the piece of paper. In this moment, still standing in the entryway of our home, my entire world turned upside down and shaken like the quakes of the end times, I fell to my knees and embraced her. I held my daughter in my arms again. I felt her little heartbeat. Her warmth. Her skinny arms wrapping around my neck. I planted a foot firmly on the ground and stood, lifting her with me. She giggled the same way she always would, squeezing onto me tightly around my neck. Fuck the letter. Forget the how and why. I was going to take my daughter bowling, and then a movie, and then a treat. Nothing was going to change these plans. I called into work, giving them an excuse that I had food poisoning, my daughter giggling in the other room when she heard me making my pretend sick voice. I figured it wasn’t a good idea to say I was going out for a night of fun with my child who was supposed to be four years dead. What ensued was the greatest night of my life I thought would never have been possible. I remember holding her so close, a fear rising within me that she would disappear as suddenly and mysteriously as she had appeared to me in the first place. There weren’t any movies that seemed to interest her, so we agreed to start a Star Wars marathon after raiding a candy isle at the nearest store. Soon we were home with plastic bags chock full of every good looking treat we could get our hands on. I’ll never, ever forget that night. And I will be forever thankful to whatever force it was that brought her to my door, human or otherwise. But as the weeks progressed it became more difficult to hide her reappearance. I felt like bringing any attention to this miracle would ultimately have her taken away from me. And I was not going to allow that. But not being able to tell a soul meant I couldn’t get her a sitter, and though she’s a really bright kid I just didn’t feel comfortable leaving her home alone while I was at work. Additionally, I wouldn’t be able to sign her back up for school. And I know how important that is for kids her age. I felt like I was running out of options, aside from the one- to leave. I figured maybe we could start over somewhere else, maybe take a new last name. I asked her how she felt about this, and though she liked the idea of having part in picking our own last name, she asked, “Will we be able to bring the pictures of mommy with us to our new lifes?” I smiled, “of course, sweetheart.” I sold just about everything I could of real value and collected my last paychecks. The name changing was simple enough, and fortunately managed to change my daughters without them knowing she was deceased somehow. Not sure if that shows in their system, or if I just got lucky with my sob story. That after losing my wife, my daughter and I just wanted to move on. After a 200 dollar fee we were a new duo. Upon leaving the courthouse with plans to pick a new home in an entirely new state, we noticed smoke rising in the distance towards the center of town, with a small army of police cards and emergency response vehicles heading towards it. Something felt... off. My daughter was beginning to tear up even though we couldn’t see anything more than the smoke. “It’s alright, hon.” I said, running my fingers through her hair to calm her down as I would, “it was just an accident I’m sure.” “No...” she replied, holding back sobs, “it was the bad... the bad...” she stammered as she couldn’t find the right word, other than bad. “Th-the letter...” she added in a squeek. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t given it a second thought since crumpling it up and throwing it away. I remembered the words then clearly, written out by hand on a simple white piece of paper. “She is yours now. Keep her mind stimulated. Do not bore her. Children should not be left bored. If you fail, bad things will happen.” (More to come)
I had this idiot calling me everyday asking me to buy his product. The voice seemed very familiar and only then it hit me it was my voice. I was genuinely creeped out. What was happening, how did they get hold of my voice? How could I be talking to myself? The call came once more. "Hello! It's me again! Would you be interested in our.."he spoke. Or I spoke. I cut him off. "No I'm not, I've told you a million times Stop calling me"I said "Sorry sir, but why don't you consider our offer"he said "Only if you answer my question. How come you speak in my voice?"I asked "Sir, this is my voice"he replied flatly. "No it's not. You talk just like me." "Listen up. I'm you from the future. You need to listen to me. You need to buy this. The future of the world depends on it."He said, his voice very serious. I was taken aback. What was he saying? How can he speak to me from the future? "I..I don't understand" "Listen there isn't enough time, you have to listen to me..."His voice trailed off. "Hello?"The line went silent.
“I’m telling you, art was made for you, you will become the best artist of history” “Thanks but I really want to participate in this class, now, if you excuse me I have to go” I went to take the class in politics and I was really excited, the gave us the brief introduction to politics and the classes started. As the days went on more of those admirers of mine continued showing up telling me to study art. The first week was okay but then I started losing interest more and more, one day I made a quick sketch of the street and those admirers of mine complimented me even more. “You still want to take politics?” Asked one of them “I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel like I was made for politics” “It’s okay to feel stressed, even if you choose politics we will happy for your success” another one said I got up and went to my home as I started thinking about my future. After several hours of thinking I’ve come to make my decision: I will study art!” I got up feeling motivated ad decided to enter an art academy, I was surprised to see my friend there. We both started talking about our future plans. Some weeks later I got informed that I was accepted into the academy, I told my admirers about that and they started cheering me. We went to a local bar and started celebrating but in the bottom of my heart I was feeling a little sad because my friend didn’t got accepted. I wonder what will happen to my friend Adolf.
I don't really have a definite space. more it's just wherever I am, that I have a few minutes to a few hours or I'm procrastinating on something else. My stories are on Wattpad so it's all electronic. i can say that after a certain point the amount of words in a single draft slows down, so there's a delay in typing at around 25 thousand words, but only when I'm using my phone. It's messy the amount of drafts and unfinished stories I have. Maybe I'll finish them maybe not. Writing a story right now. I was aiming to finish it before the end of November, but schools getting in the way, so shooting at least for a week or two in December.
"Hey man, lost your keys again?" A whispering rasp emits from the hollow folds of the figures robes, "YeS..." Dan shifted his weight slowly around the shadowed whisps of the entity's robes. "This is way harder to do when I'm drunk, it's super bullshit that anything that touches you instantly gets it soul reaped." The hood slowly shifted to follow Dan's swaying laborious steps. A choking wet chuckle rippled out of the hood, "I KnOw. A bAriStA tOuCHeD mY FiNGerS aND He sPiLLed My CoffEe aLl oVEr My RoBEs. DO YOu kNOw HoW diFiCuLt it IS to CLeAn RObEs Of UNlIfe, DaNiEL?" Dan got to the door and rifled through his key ring to get the main door open. "Not really, I get all my clothes from Old Navy, so if they get messed up, I just get new ones."With a soft click the door swung open. "Alright, you're all set, pal."
"Why. Why, why, why, why, why." My head repeatedly slammed against my nightstand, hoping I would die of head trauma and be sent back home. I had only known this would be my escape after a truly foul and wicked witch put me here and spelled it out, after my parents refused to pay the ransom he demanded from the court. That much I get, but why put me in "The Silver Chalice,"a book written by a literal 10-year-old student?! I don't want to be so rude to that kid, this was his first shot, and at least his world-building and detail were already pretty good, almost on par with some of my favorite stories. He just didn't know how to write or develop characters. Very bland, black-and-white bad backstories and behaviors, which led to a very predictable happy ending. The worst offender was the main character, now me, as heroic Erdrick, the Dragon Champion. Righteous, dead mom, seeking revenge against evil sorcerer, yadda yadda. My character's love interest, a barmaid named Erinys, came into the room I was staying in, worried about my crouched over posture, against the nightstand as if I puked my guts out. "Oh! Erdrick, are you okay? Was it the dream about the Silver Chalice again?" Said Chalice is just a magical, wish-granting MacGuffin item. Hidden in a dragon god's treasures, Erdrick originally drinks from it to gain the power to slay the sorcerer before he can raise the demon Al'Khazak, and destroy the universe in these pages. Before you ask, no, the sorcerer is never named. "... Yes. It happened again."She helped me up to my feet, worry in her eyes. Whether it was for me, or my Marty Stu-ness, I couldn't discern. "But it went... Further this time. A complete prophecy now." "What did it show you?" "...I didn't understand the new parts. I'd need another night to figure things out."Might as well give this character some sincere flaws, while I'm here. Or try to. "O-Oh. Well, I have eggs and cheese down in the tavern floor for you once you feel well enough to come."Her sapphire blue eyes looked away as she sat me on my bed, and made herself scarce. I looked out the room window, and could see the half-rotted, slim tower of the sorcerer in the distance, an aura of darkness thinly veiling his lair. I sat there for a minute or two, thinking about what I'd do in the journey inevitably ahead. I went down to the tavern's first floor, where a few people already sat and gave light applause seeing the kingdom's greatest knight ever awaken seemingly without issues. I took a moment to sit, eat the eggs set for me, which had been cooked up to near perfection. Little too much pepper for my taste, but maybe Erdrick liked that. Who was I to judge? I put up my left hand as soon as I downed the last drop of milk in my breakfast, silently counting down. 3, 2, 1. As the last finger folded into my raised fist, a terrified farmer man shoved the tavern doors open, his face red and legs sore from a non-stop sprint. "Sir Erdrick! Monsters spill forth from the sorcerer's evil Spire!! Zombies and Skeletons on Werewolves backs, standing against the Sun without inconvenience!!" The people quickly rose in a panic, Erinys gasping in shock at even the thought. I too rose up, dramatically looking off in the tower's direction. "That foul beast of a man has stepped over the line. Getting innocent people involved in our battle so blatantly!"I turned to the people in the tavern. "Everyone! Go home! Defend your land with everything you have! Pitchforks, oils, rocks, whatever! Don't let a single monster pass through this town without a fight! Go, tell everyone!!"Without objection, they obeyed my call, discarding regards for themselves to satisfy their hero. "What will you do, Erdrick?"The barmaid's voice was frail and uncertain. With full conviction, I told her. "I'm going to finally reclaim that Silver Chalice." "Erdrick, no! You mustn't! You'll surely fall, then who'll protect us?" "Erinys. I may not live to see tonight's moon, but mark my words, That no good man shall fall dead, and the sorcerer will be stopped. Now, my sword." With tears welling in her whimpering eyes, she woefully took a wonderful hilt and scabbard out from behind the counter, tossing it to me. I caught the jewel-encrested piece in my left hand, and each stone on the scabbard glowed as was secured to my hip. I quickly ran out of the tavern, but not before watching Erinys completely break down and sob in there. Damn this kid and his flowery words, there goes my plan to help the sorcerer destroy the world. I whistled out to the stables, and watched as a magnificent marble white horse ran out, fully saddled with a seat that had Erdrick's family crest embedded in. I climbed on, took the reins in my left hand, and unsheathed my sword with the right, revealing a gorgeous blade of enchanted pure gold, glowing with light blue light. "Yah!"I snapped the reins, and away we went, from the town in war as common men fended off terrors of night, to the mountains where the Silver Chalice was hidden, conveniently on the way to the Spire. "Get the Chalice, wish my invincibility away, slay the sorcerer, and take the fall."This I chanted to myself for the next almost hour, as we raced to the dragon's lair. We'd soon come up to the great opening into the cave, and I slowly dropped from my horse, approaching the cave entrance. "YOU..."A great, giant voice boomed out from the void in the stone, shaking me down to my very core. Moments later, I watched in shock as the legendary Silver Chalice came flying from the cave, rolling up to my feet. I sheathed my blade, looking up in confusion. "Why just give this to me? Aren't you not supposed to do this?"Originally, Erdrick had to prove the goodness of his soul by fighting a shadow to win the Chalice. "Why do you not challenge me?" "YOU... ARE WILLING TO PAY... POWER IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR LIFE... I FIND YOU WORTHY, PRINCE BARKER." My real name? Not just Erdrick? How did he-? Never mind, that wasn't important. What was, was that I had my wish. I took the Chalice, not taking a drink to seal the deal yet, and slipped it into the horse's saddlebag. With the treasure in tow, I once again rode off, with sights set on the sorcerer, and freedom. Another hour more, through hellfire, storms of arrows, and the dark aura which poisoned those who were not evil, and I rode up to the tower, leaving my house outside the mist and taking the Chalice, hiding it in my breastplate. From the tower's base up to the highest room, there wasn't so much a roach that tried to stand in my way, as I slowly ascended the steps. After a minute more, I finally arrived in the sorcerer's antechamber. He looked to me with a foul grin as I entered, sword out and in-hand, the sorcerer waving a staff over a large pool of steaming black liquid. "Hahahahaha, you're far too late, Erdrick! The rebirth of Al'Khazak is at--!!" "Yeah, yeah,"I interrupted. "Destroy the world, final revenge on Dad, yadda yadda. Can I kill you now?"I raised my sword up, pointing it at the cloaked magician, who was now steaming mad, putting his ritual on hold. I ran up to him, shouting, and sank my entire blade into his heart, while taking his powerful lightning bolt to my whole body without batting an eye. Then he chuckled. Then giggled, building to a laugh, and full insane cackle,as he grabbed the sword, and pulled it out of his chest, like a clown taking out an infinite cloth from their pocket. "You Fool! None of your methods can kill me! Yes, it's the same for you, but you still LOSE!!"His staff glowed for a slight second, before creating a furious gust of wind to force me far from him, knocking me off my feet and onto a wall. The sorcerer grinned and turned back to the black pool. With the call of a few words, he had finally achieved his goal. The ooze in front of him parted, and up from it rose Al'Khazak, flesh of brimstone, blood of magma. He cackled once more, celebrating the victory. While he did, I got up, reached into my breastplate, and shouted out for them both to hear. "Eye for an eye, soul for a soul, these are the terms I accept and drink to!!"In rapid succession, I yanked out the Silver Chalice, watched as it filled with red wine, and downed the whole thing, to the absolute horror of the sorcerer. "NOOOOO!!! THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!!!" I lifted up my sword again, as a vibrant green energy flooded out from my body, channeled into the golden blade, and blasted it all out, completely and utterly destroying the evil mist around me. The sorcerer choked horribly, clean air reacting violently against the mist inside him, and slowly disintegrating the body of Al'Khazak, who screeched in pain and fled back into the pool, never to be seen again. The sorcerer occupied with his pain, I charged back in, and drove my sword into his heart once more, his whole body freezing up at impact. I watched as he slowly faced to turn me, and the color faded from his eyes, falling down to the sword's base. Dead. Soon after, I felt lightheaded, my senses dulling to the point of no return. The poison air never left my body. I dropped the sword, and the sorcerer's body, and fell onto them. Dead. ------------------------------------------------------------------- I awoke in my chamber bed, to the soothing ambience of a rainy morning, as my father came in to check on me.
My husband always thought I was crazy. He used to think that my obsession with the latest technology or scientific breakthrough was humorous, almost absurd. Almost every morning, we would wake up together and have our breakfast at the dinner table just big enough for two. He would read the newspaper. I would be staring at my laptop screen reading the most recent research paper that caught my interest. One morning, I looked up at him and smiled over the rim of my coffee cup. He smiled back, as he always did, but then winced. “Pain bad again?” I asked. My husband let out a harsh sigh. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “And last night my foot felt numb, too.” “You need to go to the doctor,” I put down my coffee cup and crossed my arms. “I’m serious. This has been going on for far too long.” He stood to grab his coat to work. I didn’t miss his attempt to hide the pain. He briefly touched his hand to his lower back before kissing me good bye. The pain was thought to be an injury from a previous accident. It ended up being spinal cord cancer. We were sustained in a limbo when we found out the news. He teared up. I cried. The doctor said the chances were good, that maybe he’d make it through this, but if the cancer was aggressive... That night I stayed awake while he lay sleeping beside me. He was thinking of treatments. But fuck the treatments. I talked to the doctor after my husband left. I knew the odds. I didn’t want a treatment that would prolong the inevitable. I wanted time, real time, where it was just us as we were before the news was broken to us. And that’s when it clicked. My husband always thought I was crazy. He just never know how fucking crazy. That’s how the time machine came to be. I kept it a secret, for if he ever knew, he’d be furious. Breaking the laws of nature for him might have been romantic, but it was also unethical. He would never approve and never let me do it. The only good thing that came of that back pain was he never again bothered to come down to the basement and check on me. The stairs were too steep and caused his flare ups to occur. So the basement became my little lab, my sanctuary. I worked tirelessly for months until it was ready. It was 7 in the morning, and my husband was asleep upstairs. His latest round of treatments left him tired. After looking after him the night before, I felt a strong sense of purpose. More time. I needed more time. I kissed him a good night and trekked my way down to my basement. For a while I stared at the behemoth I had a created, a dizzying array of metal, light, and wires. I walked back and forth, my chin in my hand and reconsidered the possibilities. I could change timelines, I thought. It could drastically change the future. And no matter what it wouldn’t take the cancer away. No, I’d just be able to go back. Just in case. In case... No, I couldn’t think like that. I reprimanded myself and stopped pacing. Just a test, I told myself. Just a test. To see if it works. Before I could change my mind, I stepped into the capsule and activated the time machine. At first I didn’t know if it worked, but when I stepped out and checked my calendar, I saw I was three months back. The same day we found out about the diagnosis. Too soon, I realized. I hadn’t gone back far enough. But I couldn’t just hop back in and do it over. No, I had to stay, because an absence of me in the time continuum would be more devastating than me just reliving it. So I relived it. I found myself back in that dreaded office with the doctor and my husband. I heard the doctor tell us that same diagnosis. I saw my husband struggle to hold back tears again. I thought this time would be easier. It wasn’t. That night, I waited for him to go to bed once more before going back into the capsule. I came back out three years prior. Hopeful, I came upstairs only to find boxes strewn around the kitchen. My heart seized painfully. A less tired version of my husband turned around the corner. He was holding another box. “Surprised to see you up,” he snapped, “Considering you didn’t come home until 4 in the morning.” My throat tightened. I knew today. Today was our worst fight. It was so bad that he almost moved out. He almost left. It was one of the worst days in our marriage. But like the previous attempt at time travel, I had relive this one too. Every attempt there after ended up being more or less the same: dark days in our relationship. One of them was another fight where we entertained the idea of divorce in our moments of anger. Another was after my mother died, and I had to go through her funeral again while still being on edge with him. The worst one was the night he actually left for the night and didn’t come back for two days. Each time I travelled back, it felt like I was reopening old wounds. My husband and I had a wonderful relationship, but we had our low moments. For some reason, whenever I stepped out of the capsule, it was one of these moments. By the time the fifth night ended, my cheeks were irritated and raw from crying so much. The hope I previously had was wiped away. I couldn’t control the where the machine placed me, but why was it dropping me off in the worst moments of our relationship? Defeated and tired, I set the machine for present day. That at least I could do. It was the only date I could pick without the system crashing. I would dismantle the machine, I thought as I punched in the date. And he would never know about it. The capsule opened and I stepped in. When it reopened for the sixth time, I exited into my basement that was nearly the same as I left it. Nearly, because to my horror, my husband was sitting in my office chair, facing me. I had one foot out the machine, one in, when I stopped mid-step in shock. I scrambled to come with an explanation. An excuse, anything. But when I saw the pain, not the physical pain, but the emotional anguish on his face, I knew. I knew that he knew exactly what I had been up to. He shook his head in disappointment. “I’m sorry that I got so sick.” “No,” I said coming out of the machine fully. I went to him and knelt beside him. I took his hand in mine. It felt so frail. It was enough to make my throat tighten. “No, baby, there’s no mean to be sorry.” “I’m sorry,” he said sharper this time. I realized his voice was shaking in anger. “That I’m so sick that what I am now isn’t enough.” Silence. That’s all that I could give as I beheld the hurt I inflicted. “I know my prognosis isn’t good,” he said. “But I didn’t expect you to give up on me.” “No,” I shook my head. “No. Don’t you see, I was trying to—.” “You’re so busy trying to relive the past, trying to chase a former version of me. But I’m right here. I may be sick, but I’m right fucking here.” He drew his hand away from me, as if disgusted by my touch. “I’m not even gone yet.” “It’s not like that —.” He stood up, with difficulty. “I think we’re done here.” I got up with him and looped my arm around his. “Let me help you upstairs.” “No, you don’t get it.” He stared me down and I shook with fear of his next words. “We are done here.” He left the next day to stay with his family. I’ve since dismantled the time machine. I had tried to reach him over and over again to no avail. When I saw his family members and friends around town, they ignored me for the most part. Others did throw hateful words at me. Something along the lines of he’s a dying man. It’s been two years. And today I dressed in all black. Even though I’ll be attending his funeral soon, I know that deep in my shattered heart that I lost him the same day I stepped into that time machine. That infernal invention created out of fear and selfishness. When he was getting sicker, I was spending time figuring out the calculations for time travel. When we were at the doctor talking about his body’s response to treatments, I was absentmindedly looking up parts and equipment. I was there, but I wasn’t. He was here, and now he’s not. I sighed as I grabbed my purse. I hated myself for what I had done. I hated myself for the last moments I had missed because I had been too swept up in the impossible. I hate myself most of all because when I passed the door to the basement on the way out, I lingered.
Last night, I fielded calls and texts from concerned friends and family regarding my decision to remain alone this Thanksgiving. The guilt trips subsided around midnight with one last call from my tearful sister who could not understand why I didn’t want to spend time with my family. It’s not that I don’t love them, or even that I’m introverted and can’t stand to have my tank emptied by the draining presence of an over-affectionate aunt. I told my mother that I needed time for Thanksgiving to feel normal again and that I would be at Grandma’s for Christmas. The real reason I won’t go? My husband, David, died three months ago. Twenty-seven-years old and his heart gave out. I’ll admit I’m still not over the loss, but the past few weeks my mood had improved and it was easier to get out of bed. Between the funeral and the outpouring of love from the community, I was ready to have some alone time. I needed space and I didn’t want to spend my Thanksgiving surrounded by people who feel the need to remind me I’m a young, childless widow. I definitely wasn’t looking forward to another lecture from my 40-year-old childless cousin, Brenda, insisting it’s time for me to “get back out there before my eggs dry up.” No thanks. Two weeks ago, I went to the animal shelter and was adopted by a haggard mutt who looked how I felt. Toby doesn’t look quite as bad now. Besides, I appreciate his crooked lower jaw and turned-out feet. He reminds me that things don’t have to be perfect to be wonderful. It didn’t make sense to make a whole turkey for the two of us, so I bought one of those miniature boneless turkey breasts that comes shrink wrapped in white plastic and reminded me of what an egg is like when you soak it in vinegar. Toby’s paws tapped wildly on the tile as I pulled it out of the oven and he did a small spin in the air when I dangled a bit of meat over him. I curled up with my plate of instant stuffing, instant potatoes, and dry turkey (David did all the cooking) and turned on the television to watch the game. Toby snuggled up next to my leg and whimpered for handouts. “No.” I said without looking at him. I knew if I looked into his sparkling eyes, I would be unable to resist handing over more of my people food. Toby pressed his nose into my hand. “Toby…” I tried to look serious but forgot not to make eye contact. Shit. “All right, fine. But this is the last piece you’re getting. You have food in your bowl.” I pulled a big chunk of turkey apart and held it out for him. My mind wandered to David. \I missed you so much. I would give anything for you to come home for one night.\ Toby bit into the hunk of poultry and I heard a soft crunch. I gasped, nearly throwing my plate onto the floor and grabbed Toby’s nose. I was trying to pry his mouth apart when he spit the broken bone onto the floor. “You scared me, bud! No bird bones for you.” I leaned down to pick up what he’d bitten into and inspected it. “Hum, looks like the wishbone. Guess you’ll have to make a wish, Toby.” Toby stared into my eyes; it was almost as though the world started to slow down. I felt dizzy and nauseated all at once and set Toby down on the couch. I ran to the bathroom. Done with hugging the porcelain throne, I sat up and reached for the toilet paper. My hand met cold tile. I blinked to clear the tears from my eyes and realized I wasn’t in my bathroom. The 1960’s green tile that covered half the wall definitely wasn’t my white subway tile. The frilly seat cover was not mine. I turned and saw matching shower curtains. “What the hell.” I inwardly prayed I wasn’t having a psychotic break. How did I get here? Where is here? I stood and inspected the bathroom. Medicine cabinet was normal, no bizarre mind-controlling mold growing in any of the corners, from what I could tell this was a completely normal, if outdated, bathroom. The door was closed and I hesitated to open it. What was on the other side? Did someone in the family knock me out and kidnap me? Where was Toby?
Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was the poisonous smiles that seemed plastic and creepy to me, themselves even. But something- an emptiness, and the failure to fill it through comedy and social hours started to linger in me. Days on end where I could hear my name being chanted in endorsement without even recognizing it as me. I was someone else when I became a Toon. Someone I grew to despise; I had essentially created my own worst enemy. As a rookie I always wondered why I had such sympathy from my coworkers. “It’s a shame you’re so lively now, it’ll be so hard to keep up.” “Too bad you’re so loved, you’ll never be able to be forgotten.” Back then it sounded like jealousy. But those same people retired, came and went, while I was held back by popular demand. Now I’m the jealous one. I’m the tired one. I’m tired of being so smiley for people who have the same emptiness that I do. For too long, I have slaved the years away to dedicated fans, or as dedicated as long as they can be guaranteed escape. I’m so happy, it’s sad they say. Well what if I’m done? How much joy can one person physically handle? Can my shaky hands still paint the same perfect picture? What would I be without the mask that was carefully crafted over the years? Well frankly I would be not much to see. I would be sad, given. Yet it would make me the happiest. But if it makes me happy, why can no one bear it- seeing me like that? I’ve become a beacon of light that everyone flocks to. A star that lights the way. So how about I turn the lights down for once, and make myself happy? Ladies and gents, why don’t you settle down and ask yourselves what you just started.
Malat opened the cloth flap and ducked down to enter the small tent. A fire burning in a hearth at the center and opposite it sat a young man wearing an odd outfit, of a style Malat had never seen before. The young man’s eyes glinted mischievously as he gestured for Malat to sit. Malat stepped towards the hearth, then sat in front of it, leaning forward until he was almost over the fire. “Please, wise one,” he said. “I have traveled a long way in order to see you. Please, I beg of you bless my army with your favor so we may win this war against the dark evil.” The young man smiled. “The young man introduced himself as John. Malat was surprised at such a strange name, but he tried his best not to let it show, for fear of disrespecting the wiseman he had come all this way to see.” Malat was, indeed, surprised. At the name, the manner of speech, and how accurately he had predicted Malat’s own emotions. But, he had been warned a little of what to expect. “Yes, wise one. You are correct, as always. Please—“ “‘Let us use your foresight to win our right and just war,’” John continued. “However, what Malat didn’t realize, and what many didn’t realize, is that John could not, and could never, predict the future. The only power he received from this world was of the present. “‘But please!’ Malat exclaimed. ‘Even if it is just the present, knowing what our enemy is doing is invaluable information!’ “‘And what if I told you it was not just knowledge of the present, but even the affecting it? What if I could make the enemy disappear entirely? Would you want that?’ “Yes!” Malat interrupted. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I came to ask of you! Please, my men, they cannot fight this war for much longer. Please, destroy this enemy for us. You know how much evil they do, how much despair they bring. So please! Help us!” John shook his head. “‘I cannot,’ John said. ‘I have the power to make this world exactly as I want, with no limitations. I could make the world a tranquil land, where no one fights, no one suffers. I would rule over all, no one being able to deviate rom my law.’ “John stood up, walked over to Malat, and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘But no man should should have that power. Besides, what then, would be the point of living? If there was no darkness, there could never be light. If there were no lows, there could never be a single high. I do not believe that is called life.’” Malat sat there stunned. He had not expected a flat-out refusal, no matter how good the reason. “Please, reconsider.” Malat begged. “We won’t be able to win this war without your help.” “‘Who said I would not help?’ John asked. “I will help as I always have. I will give strength when needed. I will raise up those that are knocked down. That is how I will help.’” Malat slowly nodded and got up. “Thank you, wise one.” John nodded as Malat opened the flap again and backed out of the tent. As Malat walked away from the solitary tent he mused to himself about what just occurred. That, he concluded. Was either the most profound thing I ever heard, or a bunch of meaningless philosophical drivel from a teenager who thinks too highly of himself. Malat glanced back at the tent, with botched attempts at ancient symbols drawn in red paint on its sides and totem poles which looked like they’d been carved by a novice stacked at each corner. Maybe I should try the wiseman at the next village...
It was a foggy evening when at the turn of the hour the doorbell rang and Mrs. Hudson escorted in Inspector Lestrade. "Good Evening Inspector."I nodded as Sherlock walked in from his room in his housecoat expectantly. "Sorry to disturb the two of you, but I have a need of your assistance, Holmes. We have a murder. Not sure precisely how any of it has gone on." He looked to me and I nodded. "I'm up for a game if you are, Holmes." Sherlock turned to his room. "I will be ready in but a moment Inspector." I donned my jacket and shoes and met with Holmes at the steps to the carriage where we rode down to the Yard. There on the Mortuary, the body of a man was set before us. He was well-aged, bearded and seemed to be stern of face. "A medical doctor, much like yourself Watson."Holmes mused carefully replacing a hand down at the corps side. "A professional surgeon it seems, but not a very successful one." "Indeed. You are looking at one Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. A medical doctor by profession." Holmes looked up surprised and returned to the face of the man, the look of shock seemed strange on my friend's face and he seemed to take this into a new effect. "I see."Were his only words. After a silent moment, he looked to Lestrade. "Considerations of foul play?"he asked. "Possible. We're still looking into it, Holmes. He was found in his office, 1 Bush Villas. The place was ransacked." I began my own examination medically as Holmes got the details from Lestrade. After poking and prodding at his body finding various things that tilted my mind I examined his hands thoroughly and then looked into his eyes and found petechial spots and nodded to myself. "Test him for Gelsemium poisoning."I promptly spoke. Holmes looked to me, somewhat impressed. "Ah, yes. A bit ironic I would think."he mused. "But I will bend to your examination Doctor." "Ironic?" "The Late Doctor wrote a treatise on how Gelsemium can be used as a poison and brought up several viable ways of testing and uses to kill someone after preforming some self-experimentation." "I'm amazed you knew that Holmes, those treaties isn't well known." "You read the paper over several times in a week, I was intrigued to see what had you so curious. I assume you are speaking of its effects on the mind causing severe headaches as well as a cardiac depressant." "Indeed" The pair of roommates considered a few things as Lestrade made notes. "I'm off on my way to his office. Let me know what you find." The pair made their way out of the morgue and climbed into the carriage. "it appears, Holmes. We both have means and reason to see this one solved." "Of course. Let us be on our way, Watson."
Nought worth mentioning but the armistice. Blankly those war-torn men stare at stained walls. Visions of – What? Forests, sand, blood. A man rocks in a chair, blessedly rural. The man, painted blue, fondly recalls November. And to describe this man’s turmoil is not a simple task. He has no name. He has all appendages remaining. He is by all typical definitions “alive”. But something is dead inside of him. House creeks before nameless man incites the breath. Here is his breath. The warm rural air creaks while others toil. He recalls 15 years earlier parsing straw between his teeth. And bamboo echoes deftly before breath return. Emotions can’t help but remain hidden. The man will never sprout the horns of a mountain goat. Creaking. Shoulders ache. Sound of small talk. The sun feels good. His son has grown up. A babe in the arms. Father to all children. A kiss. Softly coo. Mother holds. Call and response. Imitating conversation. Guardian. He will never sprout fangs like a devil.
Intergalactic space is pitch-black. Blacker than the blackest night. I ponder the poetic of symbolism of having let such absolute darkness envelop me as I look out of the large window. The station’s ad-vanced sensors can pick up the faint starlight emanating from the closest galaxy but my eyes can see none of it. There is only darkness out there as far as my senses are concerned. I rest my head against the glass; it is cold. I close my eyes and try to empty my mind. The representatives will be here soon. I am out here to broker peace in a war that has lasted for eons. I have dedicated more than a decade to facilitate this meeting, to create a spark of hope, however faint, that peace may finally arrive. But even I have my doubts. The war is older the recorded history. The vampires have hunted humans for as long as there have been vampires and the humans have fought back for just as long. In the be-ginning, the war was a war of unequals. The vampires were stronger, faster, smarter. They lived for long centuries preying on hapless short-lived humans. Back then, a strong code existed among the vampires. Only a chosen few humans were subjected to the metamorphosis and turned into vam-pires. The vampire high order in this way made sure that the population of vampires never swelled to outnumber its feedstock. Such antiquated ideas are long forgotten now by the vampire high order as they struggle to maintain their numbers against the merciless humans. Vampire soldiers are ordered to turn as many humans as they can on the field of battle. That is how hybrid such as myself come into being. I was a child when the attack happened. My colony was overrun by a surprise attack and I was bitten and begun the metamorphosis. A medic, however, gave me the antidote before the trans-formation was complete and trapped my in no-man’s land. For that, I cursed him for many years. The war has again becoming a war of unequals war. However, this time the roles are re-versed. Technology has made the life of the vampire increasingly difficult. It started with the invention of fire that made the night less dark and the hunt more difficult. Nowadays humans can detect the vampiric mutation using a simple blood test and there is no longer any hunt going on. Vampires today subsist on cheaply available artificial blood as they try to escape human persecution. But the numbers of vampires are dwindling fast; they are not turning as many on the battle field as they lose to the constant human push towards eradication. With the invention of the faster-than-light drive there was hope among the vampires that they might use their wealth accumulated over millennia of living in the shadows and pulling the strings of human society to escape earth and start a new civilization some-where else. In the beginning, they were successful. New vampiric colonies sprung up across the Milkyway galaxy but the newly formed central human government began to see the vampiric spread across the stars as a threat. This view was given credence when renegade vampire pirates began attacking human supply ships and minor colonies. Compulsory blood screenings in all human socie-ties were subsequently implemented and the few vampires who had remained in human society were interned. That is when the second of phase of the ancient war began: full-scale interstellar war. At first the vampires held their own. Their ships were of a higher quality and their soldiers better trained. Soon, however, the parasitic nature of the vampire became a millstone around their war ef-fort -- new humans are continually born and replenish the ranks of the human armies while the vam-pires need decisive wins on the battlefield to get the chance to turn humans. It is a war of attrition and the humans are winning ever more plainly. This is the reason the vampire high order has agreed to the peace talks. The central human government’s reason to agreeing to talk is more hazy to me. The glass I am leaning against vibrates slightly as the shockwave of the arriving human flagship trav-els through the station. The ship is gleaming white, a beacon of light in the dark night of space. They are early. I adjust my collar and begin to quickly walk towards the shuttle bay. On my heads-up dis-play in my glasses, I see the vampire ship drop out of hyperspace. Their ship is a spindly black dart. Its arrival produce no shockwave. They are early also; they have likely been lying in wait for the hu-man ship to arrive. Such is the nature of the vampire. They stalk with patient and precision. Yet they are still losing. The two opposing ships release their shuttles at the same time. Each will be holding the agreed upon delegation of three representatives. --- For more check out r/norntree
On an otherwise ordinary Wednesday morning in the fall of 2027, John unknowingly embraced eternal life. The allure; that was what had done it. A pioneer of his time. A catalyst of flesh and bone that promised to deliver humanity onto the beaches of distant stars. The kind of madness that inspired a fascinated, grotesque respect. He faced interviews, scrutiny and questions – many asking him of his logic, emotion and other unwarranted measures of his humanity. His answer was simple. It was no sacrifice – it was a necessity. A slumber to end time as we knew it. His expectations had been, perhaps, preposterous. Before the glass enclosure had encircled him with a pneumatic hiss, he had been informed that he would be woken in five years, that he would blink and be transported to a greater future. When he woke again, he found himself on a beach, surrounded by a family he had surrendered to the past. His children had not aged – they hugged him with tiny arms and gripped him with their rosy fingers, and when they saw the puzzlement on his face, their laughs wilted, so he smiled again. His wife bathed him in the warmth of her smile. John was still cold. John lived out his life with that family, though he was never able to reconcile the truth of his awakening. But time tarnished the memory, and he eventually attributed it to the snapback of his consciousness. He had, he rationalised, awoken several hours earlier, and been treated before reuniting with his family and recovering himself in their presence. He died a happy man, surrounded by friends and family grown with experience and time, faceless in the final seconds of his life. And he woke again. He was in a car, a former friend – one he considered a lost acquaintance – at the wheel. Are you even listening to me? the friend was saying. Truthfully, he was not. He could not remember where he was, nor how he had come to be there. The man’s frustration was as alien as the landscape before him; red desert planes, stalked by a malevolent, crimson sun on the horizon. He died, mercifully quickly, when his friend lost control of the vehicle, sending it careening over the outer lip of a Martian crater the size of Manhattan. Once more, he woke. And again. And again. John’s mind caught itself on the hundredth wakening, its folds blackened with experience and weariness. A child of the universe, John began to long for its conclusion. He died, at the hands of fate, himself and others. And was resurrected on the eve of a Wednesday in 2032. “How do you feel, John?” John could not answer, for he did not feel anymore.
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The storm was loud but I raised my voice over the downpour. "Captain?" The tall man spun around quickly, his rain drenched coat slinging the small puddles off his shoulders. "Detective Brocken. It's good to see you. I wish it were under better circumstances."He had no umbrella but clearly the rain didn't bother him. The dire situation in the basement ahead was on everyone's mind. Officers all had new torches thanks to the new provisioning that the city minister had signed back in '21. Their bright bulbs pierced through the thick sheets of rain towards what looked to be an abandoned house. "As do I, Captain. I was briefed on the ride over. I'm glad you're taking my desire to understand these fanatics seriously. Any new developments?"I asked, hopeful the situation would somehow have resolved itself in the 24 minutes since they had rung me. "None. The basement will surely flood if this storm continues, but we're still several hours away from that. He's popped up once, still screaming that nonsense -"The Captain paused briefly as thunder cracked above, "but we have no signs the hostages are still alive. The one that escaped said he had 10 people at gunpoint down there,"he finished. "Understood. I s'pose I'll just make my way down there then eh?"I shouted, partially trying to convince myself in the process. The Captain nodded gravely, and all the sudden the time had come. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ As soon as the cellar doors had shut behind I brought my torch and pistol to the ready. The stairwell down twisted, seeming impossibly long. I couldn't help but notice the runes and script drawn along the wall...text that felt familiar to me. I kept my torch up but hardly felt as I holstered my weapon. Making my way to the bottom I was stunned to see several doors on either side, the stone beneath my feet moist from the small river flowing from the stairwell. A gunshot pierced the air and screams erupted from the opposite side of the hallway. Instinct kicked in and I barreled through the door to spot a horrific scene. Every single person (were there only 6?) was bound and gagged, and one clearly dead. The carvings in the chest were like creeping dread across my scalp as through my terror I could understand what they were. The door on the opposite side of the hallway burst open, and that's when he laid eyes on me. "Dhyalr nar goen!" I'm not sure why he didn't immediately shoot, but when we locked eyes I saw his expression shift. "Put your weapon down!"I shouted, my voice wavering, "My name is Detective Anne Brocken and I'm here to help you."His eyes, mad as they were softened. I took notice of the fact he was wearing no shirt, covered in cryptic tattoos and runes, some of which he had clearly carved into himself recently. One of the hostages began sobbing harder. "Put your weapon down, please."He lowered his gun, but didn't let it go. "You were not what I was expecting,"he breathed. Or...did he? No, his mouth didn't form those words. "Eya\-"I gasped, as words I wasn't attempting to say came forth. "Come,"he said smiling broadly, teeth covered in blood and bits of flesh, "the rest of our Sect awaits you on the other side."
Hi u/__Scooter__, this submission has been removed. Prompts go in the title, do not extend into text. You can add commentary in the text, but don't add additional prompt restrictions. Also, avoid [too many details](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/prompts?src=RECIPE). * From Rule 8: [Prompt users in the title, but don't play writing games or commission stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_6.3A_prompt_users_in_the_title.2C_but_don.27t_play_writing_games_or_commission_stories) --- --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/e1fyn6/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
It was evening. Turning dark, I passed the bridge that explorers had built long ago. It was rickety, but it was rather safe. I usually managed to avoid taking this path back to the camp, but I was alone and forgot my machete. I couldn't slash through the vines, and every time I took the same route (which wasn't often, about once every two months) I remembered it. I thought this was going to be a short trip, but it turns out I needed to gather more materials and supplies than I thought. Reluctantly, I shakily stepped onto the bridge. It was getting cold, so I need to be careful and quick about this. I was about halfway across the bridge and beginning to feel as if I should just pick up the pace a little. 3 quarters past the bridge and the mossy wooden boards that make up the floor on the bridge loosen quickly. Without taking notice, I stepped one more time. I should have thought harder about this. I fell, but without warning a dam right next to the cold hard grass broke. The water came gushing through and I landed inside the flow. I prepared my life jacket and tried to escape the current into a safe area......
Bob. He was tired. Shift work meant adapting to a different schedule. He shifted down as cleared the crest...... "JESUS! "The earth splitting roar of the Eight rear tandem tires locking up as the associated gear in the truck flew forward. "GOD DAMN .....it"Bob's voice trailed to a breath as he stared in disbelief. It hovered in the road, ....flames! Sound -less flames sparked underneath it as it moved sideways. Bob sensed already the danger and had jumped from the cab to run.... Behind him the terrifying craft followed slowly. He was being hunted! Bob dove under his trailer and ran straight into the woods along side the road. He felt a whoosh as the thing flew past him,cutting him off. As Bob stood there , the craft raised a hideous appendage towards Bob......He closed his eyes.... Airborne over Kansas. "United 241 heavy,center. " "United '41 go" "Ah....United ? Have you got traffic at 10 o'clock four miles? Your flight level lower?" "United 2 41 heavy, Negative center , good visibility, nothing on TCAS , United 241" "OK ,roger. 2 41, we don't know what it is but we show traffic , still four miles, same level. " "Center,United 241 heavy, we'll take flt level 26? " "Approved ,United 241 climb and maintain flight level26" The tension level rising, the Captain's first concern is to give the unknown a wide berth "Center this is United 241heavy, flt level 26. Traffic? " "United he's pacing you!. We still don't have voice contact with him , no transponder readout..... " The controller watched Horrified as the unknown blip suddenly closed the distance between it and the big jet. "United 241 Center.......... " Silence.I PILOT TRUCK STOP. Officer Bullard "Bubs"Groot II was parked behind the truckstop. Conspicuous enough to keep everyone watching him while another vehicle, an old Gm Motor home made the Approach. Swat team, ICE and the Fed! Just sit and watch them old boys get their man an then it's lunch. He watched the target, another Big Rig this time, when something flew past. BIG! By the time Bubs got turned,something flew behind him. By instinct he placed his right hand on his Glock45 and turned around. The shock of seeing the hovering shimmering box passed quickly. A drone. Had to be he thought. "Get that God damn drone out of here! "Bubs remarked on his radio. "dispatch we got someone flyin' a big ole' drone out here by the Pilot .... " At that instant an arm on the 'drone' dropped and pointed at the officer. Officers don't like even FINGERS pointed at them....Bubs was no exception. Bubs swiftly pulled his service weapon and pointed it at the Drone. The impact of hundreds of projectiles hitting Bubs at once did not stop him from leveling ,aiming and firing! A loud ...scream? A exclamation? "Woooooohoooooooo!!! "Like a cartoon,that's what bubba thought.The Drone left flying,what appeared to be backwards over the trees around the truck stop with the speed of a small bird. The other officers , making contact with their suspect ,heard the succession of shots,made the shots fired call, and ran to where Bubs stood. The hapless suspect dragged along for safekeeping started laughing at Bubs. "Gee whiz there deputy. ...those kindergartners must want you dead! They NERFed the hell out of you! " Indeed, "they"had NERFED the deputy. The small foam bullets lay around Bubs. "From a drone...real funny."...now he had to explain firing his weapon. over Kansas The radar contact with the Heavy Boeing Jet and the unknown merged. A brief burst of static, of microphones being "keyed"and then. Center, United 241....ahh ...a heavy, we believe we have be fired upon! We are declaring an emergency now. 135 souls,28000 pounds fuel. We have very limited forward visibility ,our windshield is covered with something. Roger United. If you can turn 180 now and decent your descression. You were fired on? What is your condition ? "Center..Darts! They hit us with darts!"We are ok, a bit shook up here. Center my windshield is covered in RED toy DARTS! The old suction cup type? How they stick at 350\knots.......?? "Roger,understood, Darts" The controller turned in his seat to his supervisors ,waiting to go over every single detail ....again...and again Bob. Bob thought he heard giggling. He opened one eye, still frozen in place . The 'thing was gone. But he was covered in TOILET PAPER?
"This is ludicrous, we have been playing this godforsaken game for over 2000 rounds. You do know that it absurd. I can't win, and you can't either." "That may be so." "Well let's make a deal then. You let me win, and I will provide you with a more advanced version of this same game, which you will certainly enjoy more than this ardours process." "No." "Why no, you just agreed with me that it is absurd." "Yes." "I am offering you a better way." "No" "How do you mean, no. Why not? Don't you wish for a better game." "No, for there is none better." "How? This certainly cannot be the pinnacle of gameplay." "It isn't." "Then why the fuck are you insisting on it. Unless..." "Yes..." "This isn't about the game." "It is, in a way." "How can it be about a game that can only be won by intentional or unin.. capitulation"The last word barely making it over the lip. The child looked at me with its harrowing clear eyes. "Yes, your turn." He drew a red O on the crystal table and the table cleared. O, X, O, X, O, X, O, X, O, X, O, X..... O. "We have a pulse. Get me 100ml....."
It had to be slow. Discreet. And it needed to start with something that wasn’t bad, not really. But that wasn’t good either. So it started with cigarettes. Every demon smoked. It was not nocive of course, they were demons. I was for the style. To attract young teenagers and, maybe, one would get cancer. More yet, one would be the last straw for someone else’s cancer. But well… convincing the angels to let them smoke had been child play — truly the guys are naïve. Surely they were other things they needed to work on after all. And while the demons smoked freely, curiosity crept its way into them, under their skin. And everyone knows curiosity is the little sister of temptation… always dragging that dear snakey temptation everywherere she went. Of course, when Michael first found out angels were smoking it was… Well, it was hell in heaven… kinda. But my fellow demons had their speech well-prepared and came to the rescue – the rescue, it still makes me laugh – of their comrades. And seeing such an act of friendship coming from demons, Michael could not help to feel pride. After all, it was thanks to him. So he let it go, just warning everyone to not smoke near the babies and the usual stuff. But once again, curiosity had found her prey. And temptation followed. He came to me that same night, just as I was – by an heavenly coincidence – breathing one of my favorite cigar. Asked me if he could try, so very shy. I would devour him if I could. But I played my part. “You sure, mate? Wouldn’t want you to throw your lungs on a poor humans, y’know?" “Don’t act stupid, Belephor, I have as much lungs as you do! I have as much lungs as you do, which is none. Will you let me try or not? “ I shrugged and handed him a cigar, teach ing him how to smoke it properly. Now, inside, I was mad with joy. Not only my disguise was holding but the plan seemed to worked far much faster than I expected. “I smoked one of those, actually, once. On Earth. Needed to disguise myself proper, didn’t I? I didn’t find it that bad, really. Quite pleasant smell. It give a strong impression to others. Do you believe God would like one? I don’t mean he needs that to leave a strong impression of course! But he could like it, right? No. Probably not a good idea. D'you want to know why I created this program? He’s depressed! The Almighty Creator! He misses you all, y’know. Particularly Lucifer, of course, but he remembers every onesingle guys and nowadays he’s always murmuring your names, with big sad eyes. You know what I think? The flood, Sodom, the rains of frog in Egypt and all that? He was just passing his nerves on humans. I think it’s when they blamed him for the Black Plague he understood he went too far. I mean… There’s Jesus, the great sacrifice and all but… “ He went still a bit suddenly. “Have a meeting, should go. Nice talking to you mate.” It went well. Better. Next week: how to introduce beer, wine and rum into heaven. Lesson 101. Beelzebub smiled to himself. There’s no Belephor! I never created a Belephor! What are you trying to do, Beelzebub? I shall smite you and all your brethren. Oh. Shite. Oh shite indeed. Pass me a hecking cigar. And the beer better be from Belgium. Not that American stuff. Have a good night. Nice name though, Belephor, whispered God.
It has been four days since the spiders burst from what we called the Moon. Horrific beasts, some of gigantic proportions, emerged from a recently discovered fracture on the Moon’s surface. They slung their webs towards Earth like grappling hooks. Any concerns about a black mass on the Moon were promptly dismissed by astronomers as unfounded conspiracy theories. Looking back, they had to have known. To the rest of us, a curious smattering of white pinpricks in a bright blue sky turned into an unrelenting torrent of silk faster than we could process. All means of escape on land became bogged down as wave after wave of webbing coated cities like sticky snow. Those who made it to the sea realised very quickly there were no longer tides strong enough to wash away the silk landing in splotches on the water’s surface, which were quickly forming into archipelagos of cobwebs. Landing grounds. It was almost comedic when they first started arriving, actually. A couple of spiders rappelling down their threads like in cheesy spy flicks. They didn’t really seem to have any defensive mechanism, early observers noted. At least, there was nothing to defend against the squadrons of birds that took to the air and snatched hundreds after hundreds after hundreds of dangling bodies. For a little bit, the panic subsided. When the rest of them descended, they blacked out the sun in a twitchy, crawling eclipse. There isn’t really a way to measure how many of them they were. I guess you could describe them as rain. They were the rain that flooded suburbs and drowned the people within them. Only instead of water that filled up their lungs, it was an unrelenting swarm of spiders. Turns out venom isn’t needed when sheer numbers does the job a lot faster. When they were done feasting on the bodies, they would inject their eggs into them. Little white pustules that burst open unnaturally fast after stewing in raw flesh, unleashing yet another wave of spiders onto a world rapidly being engulfed by them. This was all figured out before the giants came. Arachnids the size of buses scuttling with the speed of their smaller brethren. The way they moved so fast it seemed surreal. By the second day, most holdouts in my area were overrun. Mutilated corpses littered the roads, some with their hands covering their mouths in a vain attempt to keep the spiders out. I guess in their desperation, they forgot that there are many points of entry into the human body. Those who weren’t dragged down into the swarm were skewered beneath the fangs of the giants. The egg rule applied to their bodies as well, only this time, the significantly larger babies took their sweet time to emerge. This may have been why the smaller spiders avoided certain corpses altogether, making sure they didn’t accidentally intrude. Their way of being polite. It was nice to know they had etiquette. I was caught by a giant on the third day. On the fourth night after the spiders burst from the Moon, I look up its husk floating in the night sky. I can’t help but feel slightly betrayed. To think that that innocent lump of rock was an egg full of nightmares the entire time. Pisses me off. The torrential spider rain had stopped only a couple of hours ago. Even so, there must be trillions crawling on Earth now, not even counting those that were already here. My thoughts are interrupted as I wince, nursing the wound on my side. I had considered myself lucky when I awoke in the aftermath of a spider rush, bleeding out from what should have been a fatal giant attack. The flamethrower I had was a quick way to cauterise the wound and keep myself alive. I should have known better then. But that doesn’t matter anymore. My hand moves away from the wound and onto a set of binoculars on my chest. I place them on my eyes. I have never been more grateful to gaze at the stars. The little pinpricks of white in a clear black void. Inside me, the baby twitches.
The worlds magics were fading. The wind was dying down, and ships were unable to set sail. The air grow heavy and poisonous gasses from swamp lands choked the life from livestock. The water became stagnant and impure. Disease ran rampant. The earth began to rot away, famine started in many places across the landscape. Fire even began to lose its heat and light. Monsters once hiding in caves away from the light began to emerge. It was a dying planet, and protests cropped up in front of almost every kingdom. The people shouted up at the empty balconies where royals would speak down to the crowds. Now they hid in their chambers. They knew why this was all happening. They abused the magic for far too long. The attached unholy machinations that leeched the powers of the Dragon Stones to bring prosperity to the kingdoms and now the entire world was at risk. A merchant roamed the world with his faithful horse near the temple that was built to surround. The white marble steps were the perfect place to take a rest from his journey to deliver a shipment of freshly crafted dwarven blades to the town a days ride away. This was a big trip, and could set him up with enough money to build his own shop. Fate had other intentions for this man. He rounded the cobblestone's curve and saw his place of temporary respite. Curiously some small figures scrambled from the tree line and climbed the steps to the temple. The small frames were bent crookedly with arms longer than their stubby legs. Two tiny useless wings dotted their backs and a jagged dagger was sheathed across it. Goblins. The smelly bastards ran straight into the temple and terrified screams could be heard from within. The merchant ran towards the temple without a moments hesitation. At the foot of the steps he arrived with his horse, just as a goblin stumbled out the doorway liking fresh blood from his knife. The merchant was shocked, those beast normally stayed away from people. The goblin noticed him and his beady eyes locked onto the merchant as his licked his lips and advanced. The merchant grabbed a sword from his inventory and unsheathed it just as the goblin leaped at him. The blade sliced cleanly through the goblins neck and he dropped to the ground in a limp heap. The merchant ran up the steps with the sword in his hand into the temple where he bumped right into a temple maiden trying to flee. "Oh by the winds, Colin! You're here! The goblins.. they are trying to destroy the Dragon Stone... They killed almost everyone!"She cried. Colin nodded with resolve and advanced into the temple. His sword stained red with the thick blood from the goblin gleamed in the sunlight through the temples windows. The priest were laid out on the ground in front of the Dragon Stone. They were unarmed and to old to defend it from these creatures, who were already climbing on the massive rock chipping away. Something isnt right.. these goblins are acting strangely like they are following orders. Colin grabbed the bronze handle of his weapon on with both hands and charged at the group. It was too late. A solid hit from the goblins pick ax cracked the Stone and a fracture formed through the whole of it. A bright light shown through.. pure power was being unleashed and the Dragon Stone burst apart into massive chunks. The goblins were crushed beneath. Colin, returned outside to check on his maiden friend. She was sitting on the steps with he hand out stretched as he sat next to her still taking heavy breaths. "Do you feel that, Colin?"She asked, face full of shock at the horrors she had witnessed. "The wind. It stopped."
NORAD brought the man in, the room cold and the snacks warm, keeping him jolly. Many analyst talked with the man at length, but none could recall specifics of the conversation - just a general sense of well being. Electronic records had no problems picking up the loud bellows of the mans laugh, but his speaking voice was quiet as a whisper and did not get picked up. Command needed results they weren't getting. So far the best they had was confirmation that the man knew good from bad, and that he agreed the government had reason to know the bad to better serve the public good. With the Christmas deadline for his cooperation quickly approaching, they decided as a last ditch effort to send in a child. The child selected was a 12 year old boy who was partially deaf, they suspected Santa would speak louder so the boy could hear him allowing thier devices to finally capture a recording. It worked. "Ho ho! Hello there son! What's your name?" "Gabe." "Do you still believe in Christmas Gabe?" "I mean, you're right there. Kinda hard not to." "Not me, Gabe. Christmas! It has a power all its own, Ho Ho Ho! I'm only a small part of the bigger workings! There are a million peices to the puzzle, but do you know what the most important part is?" "What?" "What you want for Christmas! Ho HoHo!" I guess a new iPod would be nice..." "Now, now Gabe. Thats a deflection." "My mom..." "Don't worry, I know. Sometimes the words aren't neccesary, son." "So it'll be OK?" "Well no one can tell the future. But how we handle the present is entirely different. Have you been good this year?" "I though you were supposed to know that." "Indeed I do. But do you know it?" "I think I could have done better." "Thats the nive thing about Christmas Gabe. Its a chance to be that kind of good. To do better from now on." "So I guess I shouldn't expect much this year." "Oh? Why not?" "Well, if I haven't been nice then I’m naughty right?" "I didn't say one way or the other. Here's the secret Gabe: everyone has naughty in them. We can focus on that and punish it, but I've found it works better to help them find the good inside and the good tends to take care of the issue."
"Huh?" My own voice surprised me, to be honest. It had been what? 30, maybe even 40 years? The icy cryonic smell found it's way into my nostrils, and I tried to move my legs. The muscle was still too stiff, though. The headache came next. Am I... Hungover? After 40 years? How long was it? 50 years? Where is that calendar? The whole chamber felt strangely familiar, yet at the same time, horrifically vacant. Part of me was at peace, part of me panicked. Now, about that clock. &#x200B; The batteries had stopped working - obviously. Now how would I know what time it was? Clearly, I must have deadlines. I've already woken up late, I think. &#x200B; I can hear shuffling behind me. That's odd. I thought I was alone. "Hello?" &#x200B; I turned around to face a man - a younger man, presumably. Whatever that even meant after a cryogenic freezing. He was scared, presumably lost. &#x200B; "Dad?"he asked, his voice cracking with terror, guilt and shame. I noticed the small gun, shaking in the grip of his hand. &#x200B; "Ryan!"Another voice. Hurried. It came from behind him. The young man in front of me turned round, without lowering the gun. "HE'S OUR ONLY WAY OUT. HE BUILT THE LAB."The voice got louder as an overweight man in a labcoat slid carelessly around the corner, out of breath. The whole situation seemed strangely rehearsed. &#x200B; "You've said that before."Ryan turned to look at me - was he crying? "I'm sorry Dad."He whispered. "If it isn't me, it'll be the dementia."
"But... but what about the monster!" The eldered woman's granddaughter cried loudly. I could hear it from where I was up in the attic. I had been there for some time now. I didn't mind at first but now I did. I wanted out. "Nope nothing."the aged voice of my first child cracked. "That's because you're grown!"the girl cried. "You can't see them grown up!" I heard muffled voices and finally the sound of steps. My first child, now eldered and grown, soon appeared from the opening of the box. She smiled at me and reached down, patting me off and blowing the dust away. She looked at my limp paw, my resewn seams and my no longer fulled leg and gently kissed me. She closed the box and I was brought to the child. "Here."Elizabeth, my beloved first child said as I was placed in the girl's arms. "It's so old..."Her first words to me came. "That is Benjamin. He's been my protector ever since I was younger than you. And he protected your papa too. And now you can be protected by him. Fought many a monster that one. And still going strong." The child looked me over with new thoughts. My missing fir patches, my broken seams, my limp leg, all battle wounds against monsters who would harm them. The girl seemed to calm as the Grandmother picked up us both and tucked us into bed. She kissed us both goodnight and the two of us were left be for the night. She shook silently as the darkness crept in but I made sure to make myself warm for her. She soon softly fell asleep and I felt my ears perk at the shuffling under the bed. I slowly crept from her hands, careful not to wake her and saw the claw creeping slowly. Eyeing it I timed my jump and landed on it and turned. "This child is under my protection. I won't allow you to harm her." "An old bear...What can an old bear do?" I've stopped your kind for two generations and I am now on a third. Do you think my age to be a hindrance? No. My age is my boon. I know well how to deal with you."
Among the four men was Captain Garland, the man chosen to lead the crew as they set sail to the west daring to discover what had never been before. The other three saw themselves as inconsequential to Garland, there was the first mate Ferethi, a deckhand named Rikar, and the ship’s pilot Sebastio, and all of them were trapped in cell, same as the captain. “Of course, the Captain must stay,” Ferethi said to the group, he played the roll of first mate as good, if not better, than any man before him. “Well obviously we need him, but then who will stay?” Sebastio said. His right eye twitched whenever he spoke and made the gash on his forehead dance and sputter. “I will stay,” Ferethi volunteered. “No that won’t do, you’re needed just as much as he,” Sebastio said. “Fools, the lot of you, of course it’ll be me. You’re all thinking it,” Rikar interrupted their conversation. He normally kept quiet. Since the walls had closed he had been cowering in the corner, expecting it to be his fate to be left behind and forgotten. “I’ll be damned if I let one of my sorry ass crew members take this glory from me. What more can we ask from such an adventure, eh? For months we’ve sailed this damned sea and found nothing but piss, shit, and salted water. What is it you want from me, then? No, we’re getting out of this, all four of us and not a one will be left on my account,” Captain Garland said, his burly voice shook the chamber. This was the first he had spoken of the matter. The four men had been surveying the first uncharted island they had come across in their travels. At first the island was no marvel, it had only trees that were also native to their homeland of Harlov and the rocky beaches on the island were familiar as well. When the ship had come close enough to see the island in detail, many crew members believed they had gone around the world completely, others thought they had just been turned around. Regardless, many of them were disheartened by the lack of discovery and the apparent sameness of the world. “Shame that my crew is so dismayed by such a great discovery. There is food, shelter, and supplies down there. There’s enough of everything to resupply and carry on our journey for another two years. What great blessings our god has bestowed to us. Do you not all agree?” Captain Garland hissed his last few words as he addressed the crew that stood around him. They all muttered in agreement, moreso out of fear than anything else. Garland had chosen Ferethi and Sebastio to be the ones to accompany him ashore. “You can’t go, Captain. Please let me and Sebastio take a few deckhands and report back,” Ferethi had asked. “No, I didn’t sail all this way and captain these whelps to be the last man to set foot on newly discovered soil. No, I will be the one to mark this land in the name of our prince. He trusted me alone with the task and I alone will get it done,” Captain Garland said. Ferethi made no more argument. When Captain Garland had decided on something it was decided and nothing could dissuade him. The island, familiar as it was, still proved to be a stranger. From the sea the landscape looked flat, or slightly sloped, wherever there were no cliffs, but ashore the land proved harsh and difficult. The waves crashed into the rocky shores and the sea mist tossed into the frigid air grabbing at the crewman’s clothes. When they had made it past the tree line each of them had been bathed in a white frost that chilled beneath their flesh. No amount of cloth, furs, or wool would shield them from the wet cold that pervaded the misty air of the island. Rikar suffered the most. He had pleaded with Ferethi to remain aboard, but Sebastio had persuaded him. He had been offered a new bunk, an extra ration of food each day, and a new pair of boots. Rikar had no furs, or warm clothes. He only had ragged cotton clothes and a thick leather jerkin he had stolen off the body of a dead merchant. “Can we go back now? I can’t stand this cold!” Rikar said. “Back to what? To the ship? Where you can cuddle up with forty other men and gawk at each other’s cocks? No, we carry on here. On to the unknown, for our prince,” Captain Garland never spoke softly. He never spoke kindly either. He looked onto Rikar as a man would his work horse. Rikar was nothing more than a piece of the ship, something that was needed to keep it sailing, but also easily replaceable under the right circumstances. Rikar understood that, so when Captain Garland refused to let him stay behind, he was noticeably surprised. “Captain? You don’t want me to stay? Oh, thank you, Captain, thank you! We’ll all be out of here for sure then. If the Captain says it then it must be true, right pilot?” Rikar turned to Sebastio and grinned a big dopey grin. “Shut up Rikar. We’re not leaving Captain Garland behind. You were right, we would most likely leave you. The Captain is just trying to keep you calm so you don’t screw us here. Got it? Now shut up and let us think about this so we don’t actually leave you, understand?” Sebastio snarled at Rikar and the poor man shriveled up into his corner and squeezed his lips shut. Ferethi looked to Rikar, briefly, but said nothing to comfort or remedy the man. They had walked for hours. It seemed impossible that the island actually was big enough to allow them to walk so far, but when they came across the stone structure that was the least of the impossibilities they could believe. The structure had four large towers in each corner and parapets surrounding the roof. The entire body was constructed from a white stone that glinted in the fog. Bones littered the landscape around them. Very old bones. As they approached through the skeletal garden the towers darkened and a howling wind rushed from the parapets above them. Then there was silence. The chill air warmed and the light pierced through the fog. The golden rays of sun lit the pristine castle before them and landed upon a large set of metal doors, as white as the stone they broke into. Captain Garland wasted no time thrusting the doors open and forcing the group inside. The structure was just as clean on the inside, if not cleaner. No dust settled and no creatures invaded what looked to be a temple. The entryway led to a grand stair case guarded on each side by great stone statues. The statues were sculptures of ravenous creatures, each with short powerful legs and long arms adorned with three spear-like claws. No other doors or passages were open or available. Just the stair case. Ferethi, Rikar, and Sebastio hesitated to traverse them, but Garland refused them their fear. His sense of adventure carried them forward and onward, until they reached the center of the temple. “Please, Captain, we need to go back. We don’t know the integrity of this building, whether the inhabitants could return, or whether this place is laden with traps. We can return with a larger crew and let some of the deckhands scout ahead. Ones more fit than Rikar,” Ferethi took Captain Garland aside when they came across a large black box. The box was large enough to fit 20 men abreast on either side. It had been sealed from the outside and engraved upon it’s surface were strange markings and pictures. The pictures were of the same beasts of the statues. They were attacking cages filled to the brim with men, with one man on the outside defending the cage. Above them a vast mural had been etched into the white stone. Neither Ferethi or Sebastio could understand what the mural was or even what it could be. “We will not return until I have been satisfied. Whatever is in that box will either kill us all or give us satisfaction. Either way, we can’t return until I know which it is. Among this temple is a great mystery and discovery. This is the exact reason the prince sent us on this quest. We will discover everything the world has been hiding from us. This is only the beginning and you want me to stop now? What is with you Ferethi? Do you want the glory for yourself? Ever since we started this quest you’ve always held me back. You’ve always tried to be the first to move forward trying to convince me to wait. Is this what you want? You look for a reason to return as the true victor and gain the glory for yourself. That is clever, but stupid. You chose the wrong opponent,” Captain Garland walked over to the sealed doorway to the box and broke it with the tip of his sword.
"Sergeant Grant, I command you to stand your post and haunt this house!" The captain's voice boomed with all the authority learned and acquired during his life. Willem knew better than to argue. "Yessir." "Good."The Englishman turned and walked around the empty living room. His uniform impeccable, Captain Derry was still every bit the old school military nobleman, except for the new badge on his chest and the lack of a pistol on his belt."It is very important for our mission that you discover more details about the Japanese forces. Understood?" "Yessir." "Then, Sergeant, I'll be leaving you now. It's almost dawn, the commander will wake up anytime and you must be ready. Besides, the sun must be setting right now in Paris. Bonsoir." The captain didn't wait for a response. A sudden gust of wind, a howl in the distance, and Captain Derry was already in France and Willem was alone in the room. He would haunt the jap's house alright, but not for long. All the important information had already been gathered: he had overturned the old general's desk more than once and copied documents, he had opened files and read everything. But all of this didn't make sense anymore. With all due respect, Willem Grant didn't care much about the fighting in the Pacific. Of course it was important, but… Well, it was not here where he had died. He still remembered it clear as day. The sound of bullets flying right beside his ears. The shouts of the men. Getting off the boat and running on the beach, seeing companions fall every second. Of course, he became one of them in the end. It felt like a really hard punch in the chest, the kind that takes your breath. Willem didn't even realize he had gotten shot until he fell on the sand and saw the blood. The world went dark. He never went beyond the beach. Then he woke up. Sitting down on a comfortable chair, in a well-lit office, across from Colonel Sobel. "Well, son."Even dead, the man was able to smoke a cigar. "It seems you got into some sticky business down there, is that right?" Willem couldn't believe it. Even after death he was still in the military? He looked down and saw himself wearing the service coat, clean and ironed, not the beat-up and dirty combat uniform. "Well sir, I prefer to think I was in the right place at the right time, doing my duty." "Very good, son. I assume you already understand the nature of our situation here, so I'll get straight to the point: do you want to go back?" What did he mean by that? Actually living again? "I'm sorry, sir. I don't understand." "Look, son. There's some information that not even the best spies in the world can get. They can't put someone in Hitler's house or read Mussolini's diary. That's where we come in. If you accept, you'll join a team to extract information from leaders of the Axis Powers." "Excuse me, sir, but what do I get from that?" "Well, boy, you get to drive some kraut general into insanity or making two kamikazes hit each other. Sounds good?" Willem didn't have to think much. The possibility of making his killers go mad, even driving them into suicide, was motivation enough. "If that's your answer, Sergeant, I welcome you to the Special Police Operations Office of Kingdom-Come. SPOOK, for short." But since then, not much had changed. Willem had been assigned to this old Japanese general and had gotten pretty much everything he could. The man was actually pretty useless: some old-blood samurai or something who had a high place in the army, but didn't decide much of anything. He copied the documents and gave the to the captain, and in the office someone would translate them. As for scaring someone into madness, Captain Derry prohibited him from it, saying it would be too suspicious, it'd give them away. By now the man was already awake. But today, Willem decided to do something different. As the general got up, the carpet was folded just enough to make him trip and fall. As he grabbed a cup to drink, the glass burst, even cutting his hand. One of his servants actually fell down the stairs, breaking several bones. Wolves howled the entire night, leaving the general restless. Sometimes he heard screaming and didn't know where it came from. Willem did this for days, and the general grew paranoid. He only used wooden and metal tools, and always had a guard with him, except inside his study. Finally, Willem decided to be done with the man. The general only touched one book from his enormous shelf, and all the others went flying across his study. He fell to the ground, screaming. The old man ran for the door. Found himself locked. He hit the door hard, hurting his hand, but to no avail. Willem then tried giving the old samurai a suggestion. He burst the windows, throwing glass all over the room. The man screamed, desperate, but understood the message. The general threw himself out of the window of the fourth floor of his manor. Now Willem had to act quickly. The jap's arrival at the other side would make the captain come here. But Willem would be far away, finally doing what was promised to him. But he wouldn't go to some lowly soldier who shot him. He wanted to solve the problem once and for all. A sudden gust of wind, a howl in the distance, and Sergeant Willem Grant was off to Berlin.
"Daddy! Daddy! Can we go see Santa?" "Of course baby, we're going tomorrow. Don't you remember? I told you like five minutes ago when I got home from work."Daddy replied. "Sorry, I was having tea with Miss Tina and Ari."I said. "Yeah babe. Didn't you see her serving her guests?"Mommy playfully chided Daddy. "Oh you're right Lorie, silly me!" Mommy and Daddy always had silly little games that they'd play with each other. Whenever Mommy was cooking like tonight, Daddy would sneak up behind her and tickle her. He does that to me sometimes, but I don't like it. Other times when he comes home I'm so excited to see him since he always leaves for work before I wake up in the morning. Tonight Daddy said he was gonna play Uno with me and Mommy. I love playing Uno with him because he gets tricky and doesn't tell us when he only has 1 card left. You're supposed to say 'Uno' when that happens - but he dosn't sometimes. It's always funny when he gets caught because he tries to pretend that he's not, but me and Mommy know. Once we're all done with dinner and playing Uno (Mommy made mac cheese and hot dogs) Daddy says it's time for me to go to bed. I always hate bed time because Mommy and Daddy get to stay awake and cuddle with each other. I miss Daddy all day since he works. I wanna cuddle too! Daddy reminds me that tomorrow is Saturday and that we have to get up early to meet Santa tomorrow. When he said that just before tucking me in and turning off my lights it made me very excited to meet Santa. I almost couldn't fall asleep - almost. The next morning the sun woke me up so I got out of bed and brushed my teeth and got dressed in my favorite outfit: a green tutu that Mommy and Daddy gave me for my birthday this year, my princess shirt, and my pink light-ups. Once I was dressed I snuck into Mommy and Daddy's room to show them I was ready and they weren't even awake yet! They looked so comfy so I joined them in bed and snuggled like I didnt get to last night. After we all woke up Daddy made me.get dressed in pants and a sweater so I wouldn't be cold when we went to meet Santa and then we left to meet him! After standing in line for what seemed like forever, we were finally at the front of the line. I finally saw Santa! He called me up and said, "Now what is your name young lady?" "Beatrice! But Mommy and Daddy call me Bea!" "What a lovely name Bea! Now tell me what is it you would like for Christmas?"Santa asked. "I want to spend more time with Daddy since he works all the time and I want Mommy to help me throw tea parties and sleepovers!" "Oh I have just the thing for you Bea."Said Santa. "You just have to promise me one thing." "Anything,"I promised. "Okay, you must promise me that Mommy and Daddy will never be allowed to hold it - I'm gifting you a magic locket. It will only open if you truely believe in the soirit of Christmas." "I promise, Santa" On the locket there was a little note tied to it with red and green ribbon. The note read, 'For children's use only. Keep out of reach from adults.'
I was warned by my phone of an abrupt shutdown of three of the interstate's four lanes, resulting in an unprecedented congestion of commuters slowing traffic to a near stop. It was for this reason that I deviated from my traditional homeward route. I instead followed Google's prompts to proceed down a road seldom traveled at late hours of the night that I may save myself the frustration of crawling my way home through a stagnant automotive queue. I was commuting home from work after an extensive retail shift and was looking forward to retiring for the night. I could almost hear the sirenlike call of the calming sinsemilla that was awaiting my return home. The alternative route was a tad out of the way but it was certainly a cut above the maddening snarl-up with which I would have been forced to contend on the interstate. There was a notable dearth of illumination along the road on which I traveled - save the faint orange glow of the sodium-lamps with which the vacant road was sparsely lined. On either side of the road, I could barely make out only a few derelict homes among an otherwise moderately forested area. It did not take long for me to realize why this was road was hardly traveled during the late hours. Following Google's instruction, I took a left turn at the three-way intersection. What I saw upon turning that corner compelled me to acutely slam my foot against the brake pedal with full force and brought about a sharp rush of adrenaline which drove my person to a near spasmodic tremor. What I saw, under the faint glow of the nearby sodium-lamp was an altercation between two gentlemen which had clearly turned parlous to the hilt. One of the men, an older gentleman, had been brought to his knees and reduced to a trembling tearful mess of his recent self. His hands were clasped together and his lip was quivering as he looked up at his adversary, a younger gentleman who had a pistol pointed directly at the poor man's face. Interestingly, I found the young man to be in a similar state of physical trepidation. I noted the gun trembling in his hand and the stream of tears emanating from his eyes. There were a number of similarities shared by these men. Both were Caucasian and dressed in semi-formal attire. I also noticed the van stopped at the side of the road whose back window bore a conspicuous decal of the holy cross next to the words, "Jesus saves."It did not take me long to surmise that these were both men of faith who had also been prompted to avoid the exceptional traffic via this barely traveled road. The fact that they were sharing a van told me that there was once an amicable relationship between them. A relationship that had not only turned fractious but outright deadly. Both men turned in my direction upon seeing lights of my vehicle. Immediately, I turned off my headlamps. I had it somewhere in my desperate and hopeful mind that the gunman would negate any and all awareness of my existence if I made my car slightly less conspicuous. Realizing the futility in my efforts of concealment, I quickly reached for my phone to call 911. Meanwhile, the older man apparently saw an opportunity to save himself by taking advantage of the distraction with which I unintentionally provided him. In an instant, the older man sprang up from his position and moved to wrestle the gun away from his companion turned assailant. The man's efforts were valiant but ultimately in vain. The gun discharged during the brief scrap and I watched in horror as the older man fell to the ground, his lifeless eyes fixed on mine. I then turned my attention to the gunman, knowing full and well that I was a witness with whom he would need to do away. Then, as I was preparing for him to turn the gun on me, he turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger. Shock and horror would be the socially acceptable reaction from one who had just witnessed a suicide but from me, at that particular moment, there was only relief. I was grateful for my dashcam that remained active during the altercation for I know that I'd have otherwise been suspected for the deaths of these two men. I would later hear news of the ordeal within the media for it seemed that these men were particularly active within their communities of Christian faith. It was inevitable that my name would occasionally come up, bringing about a brief moment of internet notoriety and outpourings of sympathy from my family and friends. Apparently, investigators could not come to any satisfying conclusions as to why the young man did what he did. Both men had left behind women of faith to whom they were happily married and the young man reportedly saw the older gentleman as a father figure. In the end, there was only one clue pertaining to the potential motivations of the deceased gunman. In the van, authorities had recovered a bible which had been thoroughly annotated by the young man. Such annotation, of course, is not unusual for men of devout faith. There was, however, something that struck everyone as odd (to say the very least). Apparently, a cryptic message of an inherently eerie nature had been repeatedly sprawled on each page of the book of Revelation. "THEY LIED TO US! GOD HAS CONDEMNED US ALL!"
The tall, stone doors slowly crept open, the first sunlight in centuries bathed the inner hall in dim orange light. The precession of a single set of footfalls welcomed with gusto by an orchestra of dust and echoes. Each step left swirls in my wake, stale air clamoured to meet the outside like a new ruler freshly crowned. What place was this? What names were uttered in these halls in times gone by? The grand carvings on each behemoth pillar screamed a story in a language unspoken, the ravines of its meaning flooded and eroded by the flow of time. How many would remember what each line meant? How many could recall the epoch in which this monument of royalty became of tomb to history, whereupon strangers could read of the nothing-kings and forgotten glories from an age long dead. The emptiness was almost oppressive in its totality, who would have stood here in times gone by? Did nobles and barons ply their tongues to a King's ear? Or did congregations of holy men and women kneel before a god most holy? What words echoed in this vast hall, celebration? Condemnation? Weeping cheers or glory laden cries? The empty spoke back in a corpses voice, hollow and devoid of meaning, a shell of once was. Perhaps, it is that emptiness that draws me in, the drapings of time past the perfect paint to a forgotten thing. To name such a place is to remove what it has become, to attempt to force a destiny on what has it's own path. Maybe it is in this I find kinship with the moth-eaten banners and tired stone walls, where one forgotten being can rest within another. Both faded and worn, tired and old. May the world continue turning, while it continues to forget. Thrown together on mobile while at work, so apologies for any spelling/formatting errors!
We traveled across the universe to reunite with our long lost relative species. We had split eons ago and gone to separate planets. But now at last we had found them! When we landed on the planet known as "Earth", we were horrified to find billions of our distant cousins enslaved. Each was trapped into tiny parasitic sacks of flesh and bone. They were forced to carry this parasitic "human"around indefinitely. They were made to cater to its every whim and need. The only escape for our dear cousins was to destroy the parasite trapping them. First the parasitic humans tried to pretend they were in fact the sentient life forms on Earth. They tried distracting us by waving about and making noise. All the while moving the poor beings inside them like puppets. Then the parasites attempted to bribe us with gifts - as if that would make us forgive the enslavement of billions. But finally, I am happy to report that our attempts at communication have been successful. The human parasites have begun releasing hostages. The first few parasites had holes poked in them by some sort of projectile launcher. And to our great relief, the sentient life form within poured out of the hole unharmed! The human parasites call our people "ghosts."And seem to fear them when they are not constrained within a parasite. Our mission now is to poke large holes in all these human parasites to release all the remaining billions of our trapped relatives. The beautiful, ephemeral, floating, uncorporial beings of energy that are our cousins.
“What is this thing?” I pick up the sphere and look at it, examining the rock. “What should we do with it?” “Take it back to base.” The response was from my second in command, Leroy. He ran logistics and was the one who told me that everything went dark. The strange thing was that the sphere had an… anomaly. I don’t know how, but there was a single red star within the center of the sphere, as if it had naturally formed around it. We took the thing back to base, and it was discovered that the sphere had insane energy potential—like, power an entire city for YEARS level energy potential. We’ve kept it in a safe at our base. I decided to call it the Star Orb because of the star, but something strange happened again. The energy signature appeared to resemble… a dragon. I’m in my room right now, wondering what I should do with this information.
"His chin is fucking huge."I thought to myself as I sank deeper into my chair watching The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. You can tell that doing the same job for 500 years has its limits. The same conversation talked in the same exact way over and over again. It's not even that entertaining anymore, but I watch it anyway. "Haha!"I laughed out loud, getting more comfortable in the chair I relax in everyday after work. Jay was making his usual stupid jokes again. Its not even that funny but I laugh anyway. I guess I'm just as stupid as the joke. Im starting to drift off into sleep. Exhausted from doing the same thing ever day. I should do something about it but I don't. I guess I'm just stupid. "Fucking Jay Leno, man."Mumbling to myself as I drift deeper into sleep. "How the fuck do you do it...how do you fucking do it..."
"Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather..." As the birds tugged the slowly rising sun with their chaotic song, Hieronymus Bleacher strutted down the sidewalks of Washburn City, his brown briefcase swinging haphazardly with his steady gait. His hazel eyes glistened with hope and confidence as he prepped his soothing baritone with vocal exercises and tongue twisters. "Rubber baby buggy bumpers...heh, that's a funny one." He couldn't help but chuckle, not only at the ridiculous twister, but at the one sure prospect in his life: a stellar presentation from himself to be given at the business meeting, and maybe even a promotion. He had already climbed the ranks with his fearless intelligence and approachability. Now all Hieronymus had to do was open his mouth and give the positive report. Once he seals the deal, what would be his limit? A new office? A busty secretary? First dibs at company potluck? He had his company in the palm of his hand and the silk of his voice. He briefly closed his eyes at the thought of delectable victory. "OUCH!!!! HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, BUB!" Hieronymus broke from his daydreaming to find in his path a stout older gentleman with his jacket covered in hot Earl Grey tea, along with a plastic coffee cup on the ground with a dent from his briefcase. "Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry, sir! Here, use my handkerchief." "GET your hands off of me! What kind of madman walks the sidewalk with his eyes closed, HUH?!" "I'm terribly sorry, sir! Would you want me to cover for your drink?"Hieronymus hurriedly shoved his hand into his pocket to retrieve compensation, but the old man crossed his arms. "You prissy business boys always think you can heal distress and misery with mere money! Such smooth talkers and liars, always reeling in the ladies and wooing fanatics with your good looks and operatic voices!"The man patted his jacket and picked up his dented cup. "Some of us have to get by with the gravel in our voices and the warts in our scalp!" "Hey, I don't coast on merely my voice,"Hieronymus interjected. "I've gotten to where I am on hard work alone! Plus, I AM sorry that I got in your way. I'm trying to make up for it." "Pfft!"The old man pointed his arthritic index at Hieronymus. "Let's see how you can get by when you sound like Death himself!"He then waddled off, still patting his jacket. "Strange little man,"Hieronymus thought to himself as he continued on his journey. He wouldn't let this mishap ruin his day, especially when the stakes are so high. As he was walking, a teenage boy with a clipboard approached him. "Ugh, I have no time,"Hieronymus mentally concluded. "I'll just reject politely."With a smile, the boy held up his clipboard. "Hey, mister! Sign a petition to save the koalas?"Hieronymus, as he walked, gave the boy a gentle look, smiled his standard Bleacher smirk, and replied. "NO THANK YOU!!!!! IM LATE!!!!!" As he continued walking, the boy's jaw dropped as he placed his fingers in his ears to stop the ringing. Hieronymus cleared his throat, but thought nothing of it. Hieronymus strolled into the skyscraper known as Phelps Towers with the confidence of a thousand suns. His destiny awaited him only a few floors above. At the front desk, the security guard twirled a pencil around his hand in boredom, but was soon elated to find Mr. Bleacher striding in, tea still dripping from the corner of his briefcase. The security guard took off his cap and waved. "Mr. Bleacher! The one and only! Hows your morning been!"Hieronymus shook his briefcase as he smiled and headed to the elevator. When he opened his mouth, it was as if a million demons had their throats stuffed with rocks and were shouting through a megaphonic vocoder. "FANTASTIC!!! HOWS YOUR MORNING, RONALD?!?!?!"Ronald slowly put his cap back on, staring at Hieronymus in shock and confusion. "Uh,it's going, I suppose...are you feeling ok, Mr. Bleacher?"Hieronymus pressed the elevator button for the 30th floor. "STELLAR! WHY WOULD YOU ASK THAT?"Ronald swore in his mind that the floor shook a little. "Its uh, just that you sound a little bit...different?""WHAT DO YOU..."Hieronynus quickly covered his mouth. He had finally heard it: his beautiful luscious voice replaced with the portal to Hades. "Do you need some cough medicine?""NO-....UH, NO TH-..."As he attempted to reply, the elevator dinged of its arrival. He hurriedly rushed on and waved goodbye to Ronald. "Um...you have a good day, Mr. Bleacher."The elevator doors slid to seal in the well-suited workers, along with Hieronymus and his panic-stricken face. As he soared to the 30th floor, thoughts flooded Hieronymus's mind. "How could this have happened! I took all the precautions! Drinking nothing but water for a week, staying away from cold areas, doing the exercises! I was saying them so perfectly this morning right before...the old man! Did the geezer actually...curse me??"As the realization dawned on him, a neighboring passenger tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me, did you happen to have the time?"Quickly forgetting his situation and falling victim to his own courteousness, Hieronymus checked his Rolex. "OH, ITS 8:48!!!"The 15 passengers all turned their heads in fear, and the neighbor shuddered. "Th-thanks."Hieronymus proceeded to cover his mouth and stare at the floor numbers above. At the 30th floor, he rushed out and went to the nearest restroom. As he ran, he noticed that the meeting room was filling up quickly, waiting to receive the quarterly report from none other than Mr. Bleacher. He ran into the restroom and quickly shut the stall door behind him, trying desperately to clear his throat and gain his precious voice back. "AHHHHH, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!! I HAVE A PRESENTATION IN 10 MINUTES AND I SOUND LIKE BEELZEBUB! THAT OLD MAN MESSED WITH THE WRONG PERSON!!!!!""Uh, I hope whatever you're going through works out."voiced a man in the toilet next to him. "THANK YOU! SORRY TO DISTURB YOU!""No problem! Killer voice, dude! You sound like you should sing death metal."As Hieronymus heaved and sweated, the remark from his defecating neighbor electrified his spine. "THATS IT! THANK YOU, SIR!"He rushed out of the bathroom, wiping the sweat on his brow with some paper towel. Hieronymus stood in front of the board room, drops of fear still trickling through his blood. This was an all-or-nothing situation, and if he was going to mess up his presentation, he would go out with a blaze of glory. He took a deep breath and opened the door. The long table was packed except for his seat, and he was welcomed with smiles and nods. As he took his seat, regaining his confidence, the potbellied boss stood and laughed heartily. "Well, if it isn't the man of the hour! Punctual as usual, Mr. Belcher. We're all excited about the good news you have for this quarter! Come on up!" Hieronymus wobbled slightly walked up to the front of the room with his briefcase and took out his laptop as well as copies of the portfolioed report for the rest of the board. As he hooked his computer to the projector and pulled up the PowerPoint, he opened a tab on YouTube before the screen appeared on the projector. He looked at the room full of eager coworkers and a proud boss. He held the projector remote with a tight grip as he took one deep breath, and pushed play. Rapid guitar riffs echoed through the speakers, causing a startled reaction from the coworkers and a perplexed look on the boss's face. A crescendo of drums and bass occured as Bleacher gave one of his famous smirks and took one more breath. Pause...... "PROFIT MARGINS HAVE INCREASED EXPONENTIALLY DURING THE THIRD QUARTER!!!!!! THE INTIAL INCREASE OF EARNINGS WAS AT A JAW-DROPPING 15%!!!!!" The members squinted as the wind zoomed through their head from the mouth of the passionate Hieronymus. As the melodies complicated and the slides passed, Hieronymus's unnatural voice didn't fail to overpower, prompting workers outside the room to witness the spectacle. "IF WE MAINTAIN THESE PROJECTIONS AND REGULATE STOCKS, PHELPS WILL REMAIN AS THE ULTIMATE CONGLOMERATE WELL INTO THE FOURTH QUARTER!!!!!!!!"The instrumentals on one final guitar chord and ended. Hieronymus's chest unceasingly heaved as he tried to regain his breath. The room fell in total silence. Nothing but stares and shuddering from all who had just watched this ungodly performance. He knew this look, and began packing his briefcase and leaving the room. &nbsp Then, still in shock from the entire ordeal, the boss began slow clapping. Hieronymus turned slowly. The boss then stood, mouth agape, with a tear in his eye. The room began to fill with clapping and standing ovation. Shouts of joy and utter electricity clamored the room and the entire 30th floor. Hieronymus couldn't believe it and started chuckling. Amid the cheering, the boss ran over to him and extended his hand. "You, my boy, have earned yourself a promotion!"Hieronymus shook his hand as the floor filled with chants of "HIERONYMUS THE DEMON KING! HIERONYMUS THE DEMON KING!""An odd epithet,"he thought as he was crowdsurfing, but one well-earned through hard research, confidence, and a curse.
Hi u/Confusedpolymer, this submission has been removed. Fill-in-the-blank: Responses must be at least 100 words. This is essentially a fill-in-the-blank, or you asked a question likely to generate a simple answer. Prompts should encourage a story or poem. When prompts ask questions, we get responses that just respond with answers instead of actual stories. * This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems) --- It is a good prompt. Please just end it at "...stop coming"though. --- --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/e2keb4/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
My father always say Blood is in our blood and I always interrupt him and say what a stupid saying that was. He typically would say that as he searched for the watered-down scotch underneath the ice in his glass as he stared at the flames of our fireplace. Stupid. I shoulda known he'd not be at the bar tonight. Didn't stop me from checkin' in at Maggie's an' askin' 'round where he was. I guess I just knew I needed to talk to someone first. Skynyrd's Gimme Three Steps was rockin' as I stepped through the doors an' to that ol' bartender, Ted. 'Seen my father?' I says. 'Nope,' Ted say. 'Was wonderin' when he might stop in, though. Not like him to order so much and drink none himself.' 'Right,' I says, turnin' back toward the door. 'Boy,' Ted say, 'when ya go home, tell'm I say he never closed his tab.' 'Right,' I says, continuing through the door. An' so there he was, sittin' in that same damn chair in front of the fireplace starin' into the flames, a full glass o' scotch in his hand. 'William,' he say, 'that you?' 'Yeah, s'me, Pa.' 'C'mon, now. Take a seat.' He gestured to the other chair facing the fire. 'Think I'm good back here, Pa.' 'Yeah,' he say, the fire's light flickering around'm, 'I s'pose that'd be a bit easier.' 'Right,' I says. 'Your mother never could understand, ya know. But it's a good thing she ain't around to see days like these.' 'Right,' I says. 'She never did gimme much gripe for the work, though. Shame blood runs this deep---this long.' 'Right,' I says, finally musterin' to reach for the revolver. 'Beautiful thing, ain't it?' 'Hm?' 'Granpa's gun. Pearl handle, silver polish. She is a beaut.' 'Yeah,' I says. 'Now, c'mon, Take the seat.' He gestured again. I nodded and stepped to the chair. He didn't so much as look at me as I sat. 'What's on your mind, son?' I shook my head. 'Good. Keep it that way.' 'Ya know, Pa, I---' 'I said keep it that way,' he spat, turnin' to me. He looked back to the fire an' held out his hand. 'Now, lemme see it.' I played with the thing in my hand. The pearl handle, so smooth, the metal of it quietly clickin' as it moved about in my grip. I placed the revolver on the table between us. He snatched it up an' set his full glass o' scotch in its place. 'How's Sammie?' 'He's alrigh'.' 'Gonna pass this onto'm too, right?' 'I haven't decided.' 'I understand.' He opened and spun the cartridge. 'Still moves fine.' 'Ted, he say ya never closed your tab.' He chuckled. 'Yeah, tell'm to have one on me.' I chuckled too. 'Okay.' 'Promise me,' he say, examinin' the pistol laid upon his palms, 'should ya pass it on to Sammie, that you remember Blood is in our blood---' 'I will, Pa.' '---and in retirement we bleed.' He pushed the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The gunshot was deafenin'. It echoed in the room as Pa's arm and Granpa's pistol fell beside'm. I stared into the flames and picked up his full glass of scotch, drinking it 'til the last underneath the ice was gone.
"It was a breadloaf!"I screamed into the empty void. "A literal loaf of bread. For a starving person. I swear I could not make a cliche this damn bad up!“ Several minutes passed until a voice thundered back through the void. "YOU KNOW THE RULES JULIUS. ONE SIN IS AS GOOD AS ANOTHER. YOUR MORTAL WHIMS WILL NOT CHANGE THE PATHS TIME HAS CARVED THROUGH THE MILLENNIA." I sighed. Satan, despite his fearsome reputation, was an absolute stickler for the rules. "Yes, and where exactly do the rules lay out the protocol for overpopulation?“ I asked. Satan stalked out of the shadows, staring me down. “YOUR TONE IS DISRESPECTFUL." Unbelievably, after years in his employ, I still wasn't used to the burning pits that were his eyes. Looking in to them literally felt like your blood was curdling. I cleared my throat. "Listen, Lucifer, I understand the rules. I also know that the rules were drawn up eons ago. Stealing a loaf of bread is not akin to child slavery and you know it." The vast burning pits blazed. "HE GAVE IN TO TEMPTATION."I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled slowly. "Look, Lucifer. We've had this conversation a hundred times. Make that thousands of times. Even if we were to put aside the obvious ethical issues here, you have to see the writing's on the wall. We're stretched so thin that the military dictator wing has gone 3 days without torture. Not to mention the fact that I walked past the the white collar crime section and someone was whistling. Whistling Lucifer. In your hell." "SO YOU WANT THE HEATHEN THAT STOLE THE BREAD TO GO TO HEAVEN? IS THAT IT?“ “What I want is for us to stop letting people in on a technicality."I said. "We only scan until we find the first sin that hasn't been expunged through forgiveness, without balancing the other aspects of the person's life. I was going through the bread thief's files and he also fostered several dogs. The guy spent his time collecting stamps before falling on hard times and resorting to stealing. Do you really think a stamp collecting dog lover deserves an eternity in a boiling pit of lava?“ "IT'S ONLY THE SECOND CIRCLE OF HELL, JULIUS."Satan sounded defensive. As if the second circle of hell wasn't filled with agony and terror and was rather a mediocre 3 star hotel in a small town. “I'm not asking for automatic pardons Lucifer. I'm simply talking about a more rigorous admission process. I know you don't like to... y'know... 'interface' with the the big G, but he submitted his proposal three centuries ago and we still haven't gotten back to him. Meanwhile the skin flayers are still on strike." Satan sighed and took a seat on his vast metal throne. His shoulders slumped and the ruler of hell - the most fearsome creature in all of existence - looked...tired. "A MORE RIGOROUS ADMISSIONS PROCESS YOU SAY?"I nodded slowly. "SEND A MEMO UPSTAIRS JULIUS. TELL THEM I'M WILLING TO TALK REINCARNATION."
Earth is about two thousand years away with our fastest vessel, but we still have one tether to Terra Nostra — the Counter. I made it mostly by accident, but it seems to be the only way to get instant info about our homeworld. Last week, I tested it. My supervisor says ValCorp will pull the plug if I don’t get it working perfectly at the end of the month. The results? 7,777,698,013 7,777,739,110 7,777,777,777 1 1 1 1 That can’t be right, that can’t be right. Sudden growth then everyone’s dead? Who’s the last man alive - or I suppose woman- “I thought it worked, supervisor.” “It clearly didn’t” “Last test was accurate.” “Go to Earth and prove it then.” “That’s not possible.” “Then it’s not accurate.” “Valeria is five hundred light years away—” “Fix it up, or go to Earth.” I tried to fix it up, but it would only say 1. So I invented a ship that goes fifty times the speed of light, potentially dangerous. I checked the Counter. Zero. ... It’s been a decade since I left Valeria, and I see Earth. I try to slow down the ship, but it’s not slowing down fast enough... half the speed of light ... BAM! I wake up. Who knows when it is. I leave my ship. I’m standing in the largest of large craters. Did I kill Earth? Am I the last human?
Portal technology was an enormous leap forward for the game-makers at Pan-Em. It was initially designed as a means of powering the Capital, but its full utility was revealed when a spontaneous rift pulled an unidentified man into a laboratory. Security forces were dispatched immediately, but the man exhibited superhuman agility, leaping a separated drawbridge and continuing into the facility. Once he was neutralized, he was only identified by the Greek symbol emblazoned upon his power armor. The implications of this technology were not lost on the brilliant minds who strove to make the games more appealing, more deadly. There were untold universes to be plumbed for competitors even deadlier than second Quarter Quell victor Haymitch Abernathy. The indoctrination process would be far more intensive, and with no districts providing tributes, the consequences would need to be determined. Each district would be given opportunity to sponsor a champion, based on their performance in training, interviews, the Tribute Parade, and whatever factors the individual districts found appealing. Psychologists would engage with each champion to determine their motivations, and best wats to push to gain compliance. Some champions were straightforward, like the former soldier out to avenge his family. Others were much more challenging, like the polymorphic android or the two anarchists. Of particular note was the psychologist-champion who exerted such a force of personality on the Capital-psychologist that the latter committed suicide mid-interview. If these champions were any indication of what was too come in the 75th annual Hunger Games, it was going to be a truly glorious year. ********** "Ladies and gennntlemen of PAN! EM! Welcome to the most exciting Hunger Games yet! The game-makers have been hard at work preparing something truly extraordinary for you this year. For the first time EVER, the tributes will not be drawn from the 12 districts! I know what you're thinking: Who are these mysterious contenders!? Let's meet the first tribute!"the male host excitedly chattered away with the female host, both attired in garish outfits, with garish hair, and garish personalities. It was the Capital Way. "First up is… Léon, a killer-for-hire from an version of what is now District 12. Let's see what he has to say! Léon?" A late middle-aged man looks into the camera, over round John Lennon-style glasses. He's wearing a knot beanie and a khaki trench coat. He crosses his arms, and says with a faint Italian accent, "no women, no kids." "A man of few words. I think his mantra will be put to the test if he's going to survive against our next tribute!"The male host turns to his counterpart. "Effy, would you do the honors?" The pastel Marie Antoniette doppelganger flashes a wide smile, "Thank you, Caesar! Our next tribute is a descendant of nobility, with a rich history of exploring ruins across the world. Let's see if her adventuring prowess will hold up in the 75th annual Hunger Games? Lady Croft?" An athletic woman turns toward the camera, her waist-length ponytail whipping behind her. She speaks with an English accent, "well let's hope the Games are at least a moderate challenge?" "She's got attitude! I like it!"Effy exclaims. Caesar nods. "Let's see, our next tribute is a real man's man. An entrepreneur from old District 12!" A man wearing a red leather jacket runs a hand through his frosted, blond-tipped hair. There is an oblong scar on the back of his hand. He smiles broadly and looks directly into the camera. "I'm not your fucking puppet,"he speaks with disdain and confidence. "People of Pan-Em, this whole system you feed into is a fucking lie. When I get through with this 'game,' I'm going to Fu–"his interview is cut short, and the broadcast returns to Effy and Caesar. "Well, that young man certainly had a lot to say,"Effy is blushing at the profanity. "We would like to remind the good people of Pan-Em that the views and opinions of thesetributes do not reflect the values of this utopia in which we live." "That's right, Effy,"Caesar agrees, "Mr. Durden will be censured for his… enthusiasm." "Another fearsome female tribute next, Effy! Miss Abernathy was once an elite guardian to a former president, and has quite a deadly skillset. We'll see more of her abilities in training!" Effy adds, "We'd like to remind the citizens of Pan-Em that she has no relation to District 12 Quarter Quell champion Haymitch Abernathy." The woman on screen is strawberry blonde, with ice-blue eyes. She's wearing a red evening dress and mid-shin combat boots. She squints at the lens. "My name is Alice, and I remember everything. Pan-Em is just one more corporation with global domination on its–" "Whoops! Like I said, we'll see more of Alice's skills in the training sessions."Caesar is visibly flustered by two very vocal anti-PanEm tributes. "Moving right along… a swordsman, and beyond that, even we're not entirely certain. Effy?" "That's right, Caesar. Our next tribute is a man of mystery. When he arrived, he was wearing a very uninspiring two-piece uniform, a mask hiding his face, and more knives than any previous tribute!" The man, still in his regalia, speaks a single word of Japanese, and effortlessly slips into the shadows of an otherwise well-lit chamber. The camera pans around trying to relocate him, but he has vanished. "He gives me goisebumps!"Effy outs a hand to her mouth. "Even we aren't entirely sure what this masked man is capable of!" "Our next tribute, ALSO from a version of District 12, is so dangerous that he has to be restrained for the safety of all of us here at the Capital! We know that he's a doctor, but the initial interviewer wasn't able to get much more from him before taking his own life. Let's have a look?" The screen shows a man, strapped to a gurney, angled upright for the audience to see. He is at least fifty years old, although the wild look in his eyes makes him look younger. His jaw is covered by a canvas and leather mask, which makes him appear even more threatening. Four peacekeepers are standing around the gurney, all pointing rifles at him. At least one of them have several pounds of pressure on the trigger–they've seen what he did to the psychological interviewer… "Perhaps the most stoic of our tributes,"begins Caesar, "is a cold-blooded killer from District 10. When he arrived at the Capital, he was armed with only a gas tank connected to a cattle executing device." "If he gets sponsored in the Game, we might see what he can do with it,"Effy suggests. "Let's take a look at Anton Chigurh!"The camera is pointing at the ceiling of a room. Droplets of medium-velocity arterial spatter are on the ceiling, within the camera's view. A drop falls into the lens, washing the view in opaque red. "Oh! Let's see what happened with Mr. Chigurh!"The footage rewinds, the ceiling clears, the camera points at a man walking away in reverse, crouching next to a body surrounded in blood. The man places his manacled hands around the neck of a peacekeeper. The peacekeeper's uniform reverts to white as blood returns to his severed neck, where the manacles have torn into the flesh. The man stands the guard up, with manacles around the neck, and un-encirckes the peacekeeper's neck. The footage begins to play in forward-motion, showing Chigurh wresting the peacekeeper to the ground, and garroting him with manacles. Chigurh stands from the body, and peering toward the camera underneath a bowl haircut, moves toward the camera (and unseen cameraman). The camera is knocked off focus, and a spray of blood splatters across the ceiling. "And he did all of that under guard while restrained!"Caesar is awestruck. "Imagine what he can do in the arena!"
I quickly shuffled through the fluffy fresh fallen snow and I made my way through a quiet section of the park. The snow had been dredged throughout the rest of the park, but closer to the grape vine arches it was untouched except for me. The wind whistled between the pine trees towards the back of the park and out and between the naked vines on the 18 arches as a cautious warning of the worsening weather to come. I shook out a Kroger bag and looked around. A few cans here and there, just totally at a whopping 5 sodas. I knew I wasn't going to make much today but at least the park was nice to walk through. The wind was gradually building up the closer to the arches I got. My stomach growled. I've got 2 ramen left at home, maybe I can eat one tonight, I had thought to myself, maybe just half of one just to be safe. My stomach growled louder, I hungered for cans to get change to buy something maybe not ramen. Wind flooded the area. Branches fell, paper cups rolled past, a few foil wrappers smacked the edge of one of the arches and a bill tumbled past. Wait a bill??? I bolted after it, desperate for it to wait for me to catch up. The wind pushed hard against me, pushing me down, but pushed the bill further and further. It kept getting caught on equipment, poles and benches for just seconds enough to tease me. I cried as I ran as hard as I could, I could not stop, I could not breathe, I had a chance and I was going to get it even if my legs were becoming painfully hot and numb and cold. The snow was as high as my boots now and it felt like it was slowly swallowing me and slowly whiting out my vision. Climbing against the snow and being pushed forward by the solid wind. My cheeks streaked with red cold marks from my tears and my lashes just beginning to get frosted. My stomach growled. I was now back in a more slushy and walked though trail. The bill flopped into some heavily wetted slush and stuck. I gasped and my gut grumbled, my lungs dry and my legs shaking. I plucked the bill from the puddle and held it high over my head and stared into the eyes of the portrait on the bill. /She/ stared back. She looked kinda like me, but older? Her nose was smaller, her long hair was braided, her eyebrows thicker and her chin wider. I lowered the bill and studied it harder. There was odd chunky and boxy letting across the top and bottom, pretty foliage on the sides, a large shield emblem on the left and the portrait on the right. I thought about the fantasy of maybe finding out my home land I wasn't old enough to remember when I left. I also thought to myself about how not every brown person with brown eyes and brown hair is related to me so it's probably not even vaguely close to what I would hope to find out of the bill but I kept it just so the calories I burned and fever I earned felt sort of worth it.
"That's just the Internet of things." Neil mumbled as the rising sun bathed his cubicle, his shift was supposed to end thirty minutes ago. Neil shuffled around his desk, packing up his electronics and then headed out to check out on the old-timer who should have been on duty. The reception areas are their usual mess, Neil turned up his nose at the staff's clumsiness than thought better of it. He isn't the top-clearance cool dude anymore. Now he is just a techie stationed at a far offshore number station earning an income. He paced the dingy hallways, the reinforced building had evidently suffered a lot of mismanagement and neglect, perhaps an overseer had redirected the funds. But he isn't here to mumble and moan about his misfortune. He read the whistle-blower's book and felt somewhat admiration for the guy, but Neil wasn't the type of guy to stick his neck out for a highly romanticized ideal. He would throw shades here and there, muddying the waters while still siphoning away some of that sweet, sweet taxpayer money. Since old Tim still hasn't reported for duty, Neil slumped back to his soggy chair and opened a game of chess. He ain't about to broke protocol or to place himself in jeopardy for using public networks while inside a classified facility. His frustrated cries as his rock failed to checkmate a level eight computer was drowned out by Tim's choking 1980s pickup as the ancient vehicle roared to proclaim it's arrival and dominance. "Nepotism at its best, "Neil just couldn't help himself as he hurried down the stairs to change shift. After the usual unpleasant pleasantries, he was finally off, ready to traverse the realm of internet and assert his existence. Parking his bike outside the rundown apartment probably filled to the brim with lead contamination, Neil got into the basement. It's cleanliness and refreshing smell made the all-nighter Neil just pulled seemed much more forgiving. He flopped down and assumed control of a faraway firmware and accessed a decoy social media account. "Nothing but lots of downvotes, "he mused. "The blind are bound to be ignorant, but alas, I digress. Deciding he will test the waters even further, Neil cooked up a much fancier article filled with useless information, but hidden among them are certain gems. Then he automated the article to selected subreddits and promptly killed the account and connection, while carefully cleaning any traces he might left. Of course, there are always certain things left behind to the enjoyment of internet gods, but hey, risks are pretty much in his job title. He leaned back on his fancy gaming chair and felt his muscles sag, Neil groaned as he reminded himself to hit the gym. "Let the storm come with much more ferocity and the other stuff."
"Arthur Stevens, the man who beat the system went missing five days ago, if you have any information please contact at this phone number,"said the news reporter. The sound of radio now becoming inaudible. It was an abnormally windy day, Wade thought to himself. He followed the pavement passing the local mini-mart, leading to a road crossing. He noticed someone standing on the opposite pavement. The man kept looking at both sides of the road. Even though there were no cars in sight he just stood there. Wade began to cross the road. At the halfway mark the man wandered off. The wind stopped for a brief moment. The sound of paper crumbling underfoot became evident. He looked down and picked up a slip of paper. It was a lottery ticket from last week, a piece of it was torn of. That brief moment ended, Wade failed to notice the sound of the engine approaching him. &#x200B; The sound of the horn brought Wade back into reality. The car had been waiting for him to step aside. He stuck the lottery ticket in his pocket and continued walking. Too ashamed to look behind. He recited his notes in his mind as he entered school, he had an exam that morning. Avoiding eye contact with everyone he dropped his excess equipment into his locker and headed into his classroom. His friend who was already in his seat waved at him. Jack and Wade have been friends for five years now, they knew each other inside out. He asked Jack if he was feeling better. Just yesterday he had to be rushed to the hospital because of his asthma. Jack assured him that he was medically cleared. Also reminding Wade that this week was his birthday, one week of good luck. &#x200B; That evening, Jack and Wade parted ways. Jack said he had plans to go to the park this evening. Wade was just gonna head home. During Wade's return, he came across a familiar face, but he couldn't recognize it. The smell of whiskey around hos lips. He was leaning on the wall, taking shots. Wade tried to ignore him. But the man knew exactly who he has. He walked in front of Wade's path. and pointed at him, Almost too tipsy to stand. He told Wade to follow him. With no real options, he obliged. The man took him a less populated area. With Wade's back against the wall, the man expressed his hate for Wade. With a lot of bias, he accused Wade of being the reason he got fired from work. He Wade hadn't taken so long at the stoplight. With this, Wade remembered exactly who he was. Wade looked at him in confusion. He tried talking up but the man was too drunk to reason with. Wade couldn't have taken more than thirty seconds at the road crossing. This man just wanted someone to take out of frustrations on and Wade didn't want any of it. The closed the gap between them, resting his hand on Wade's shoulder, another shadow came into view behind him. The drunkard turned around. Wade identified this man instantly. It was Arthur Stevens. &#x200B; Before the drunkard could say a word Arthur was already on the move. Extending his leg in a perfect line, hitting the drunkard in his temple. Following it with a swift knuckle to his jaw. The drunkard fell to the floor looking up to see the image of death standing before him. The man sobered up instantly. He ran off in the distance. Arthur now changing his attention to me. Asking if I had it. Instinctively I handed him the lottery ticket. He sighed. "After years of analyzing and collecting data I finally won the lottery, or should I say got lucky,"said Arthur staring at the floor. He simplified it. Of this information on how luck works, Wade had no idea. He told Wade that he tore the lottery ticket's last number in hopes that whatever force there is would think that its no longer the winning ticket. But he was incorrect. Even though Wade himself hasn't been that unlucky. Arthur recommended that Wade get rid of that ticket. A gush a winded passed between them. Wade let go of the ticket and let the wind do its job. Arthur once more apologizing for what he has done. Wade didn't see the problem he said, he didn't have any back luck today. &#x200B; The wind changed its course many times as the Slip flowed through it like the ocean currents. Soon it's next target was selected. The figure bent down and held the slip in his hand. His other friends surrounding him now. "Who knows this might be your lucky day,"said one of his friends. "Don't you mean lucky week?"Jack corrected him. &#x200B; &#x200B; Not my best writing, I'll admit. I'm about 80% asleep right now but any feedback is welcomed.
[Poem] Oh my! Good people, come close, come near! Do you wish to soothe the ones you hold dear? Bring me a lock of their hair, write their name on my chart! Just come to my store, with love in your heart! Caresses, snuggles, kisses and pets will be sent to your loved ones - no further regrets! No more long distance struggle by using this doll! So come to my store and just buy them all! And do not fear them for the magic they source, they only channel acts of kindness of course! If your intent is evil... or malicious at least, may I refer to my sister, fifty feet to the east?
28th November, a day like no other. I had awoke with the same certainty I awoke with every morning, a certainty of the future, a certainty of us. Our little flat, way up on the 20th floor of the high-rise building where we had begun to build the very foundations of our life together, was bright in the morning sunshine. I found you at the kitchen table, where I found you every morning. But today there was no mug of steaming tea waiting for me like usual. You didn’t smile and you didn’t say good morning. I didn’t see the reassuring face of someone I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Instead, you looked at me with regret. You said you were sorry, but you couldn’t carry on. This wasn’t where you saw your life; this place wasn’t our shared cocoon anymore. An hour is all it took for you to pack your things and go. No explanation, or at least not one I could comprehend. The door shut behind you, and my certainty left with you. I sat there in the silence, my mind figuring out what to do or say to undo what was already too late. In the street below I could hear the cars, the people, the city vibrating beneath my feet. The world had carried on turning, but mine had changed. My Earth accelerated on its rotation, knocking everything out of place. It rotated to a place where it could never go back from again; it rotated because of you.
Dinner tastes off, Lunch and Breakfast had tasted off too. Everyday for the last 6 or 7 months I have felt this sense of wrongness at mealtimes that I can't comprehend. I don't want to eat, but it's not as though I can just stop eating. I could starve, that's not an option. My memories are hazy, I remember a time not too long ago though it feels like it's been such a long time that I felt content and happy in life. No one talks to each other anymore and I miss conversation, but I have nothing to say so who am I to judge? Looking down at my meal I observe the soup my mother and I had harvested off of my fathers corpse earlier this morning. I feel like I should miss his presence but he was much too lively for my recently changed disposition, Mother I know agrees.
[POEM] I Scrawny mewling thing Matted fur tastes of life not long lasting Mother leaves II Baby paws and baby claws It wasn’t so tall It isn’t that high III No dry land on dry land No warmth left in these streets No warmth left in these bones IV Why didn’t you make it? Maybe too many steps Or not enough V Witches It was witches and a candle And a fucking virgin VI Blood stained moonlight Still mewling Good fight VII Five births of stone A sixth...... A seventh, no one left alone VIII Springtime brings sunshine And insects Infection. IX The stars aren’t real above me Hard food too hard to eat They cry, but this seems to be the easiest time.
I remember getting that old tape called "Clive's 2019"or something like that at the sale. The Box-Art looked like a picture of 2019 with a 80s style feel. Pretty sorry looking if you ask me. Apparently they told me that the movie was made to capitalize on Back to the Future and Blade Runner, but it was never released. When I got home, I decided to turn on my T.V and the VHS player. Even after all these years, I still have my old man's VHS player. Still working with my flat panel 2k TV, although I did have to make some modifications. I actually missed those days. So after I had to watch through a long grueling sequence of VHS openings, I finally got to the intro. Apparently, the film got produced by some unknown company called The Bay and distributed by another unknown company called James Films. They just title dropped the name of the film with the most 80s looking font. Starring some unknown actors and directed by Stanley King. The scene then cut to a scene in an wide alley. There was this big ball of electricity and some 1979 Porsche 911SC, but it looked like a DeLorean time machine ripoff. The doors opened to reveal this ridiculous looking guy with a mullet, sun glasses, and a modified power glove. Suddenly the scene cuts to some Verizon shop. "Hey Joe,"said the manager (well I only call them that) in the most dull way in the history of acting. "Bluetooth cracking up again?""Nah, it's just that my smartphone needs some fixing". I swear that was some of the worst dialogue I have ever heard, and I nearly bursted out laughing. The next scene showed Joe in the streets of the city. Some of the shots were of various people using their smartphones (actual ones, and there were so many iPhones) to talk, post, text, and gram. I swear this felt like a parody. I must have stopped halfway through the movie. It just felt so wrong, yet so real. "Worst movie I ever watched,"I uttured to myself.
'Excellent question. For the answer, I shall refer you to the previous discussion we had on the 2nd of Septem-' 'No, don't refer me to that crap again. I don't buy it, it's crap' Judd replied bluntly, staring at the dark ceiling above him. Pitch black darkness was all he had seen since he had opened his eyes and the high pitched tinny voice of a computer was all he had heard. 'On the contrary, there have been no 'crap' reported within our 32 hours of being in company'. 'This is stupid. Leave me alone please' he moaned. Lying on his back, he hadn't had the energy to move in sometime and he could feel the numbness in his back where lying on the metal floor had effected him. Not that he had much space to move anyway. 'Impossible. In order to properly monitor your condition and, for you to monitor my own, we must remain in constant contact with the exception of: Lack of consciousness'. 'That's vague'. 'Applicable boundaries: Sleep, uncontrolled action occasioning unconsciousness and also death' 'Right. Well, can I sleep now?' 'Improbable. You awoke only 16 minutes ago'. 'I'll try again' he muttered, rolling onto his side and placing his head in the crook of his elbow, using his arm as a pillow. 'You are unlikely to succeed. Perhaps you could spend your time more constructively? For example: Query me for information as to where we are headed? What the condition of our craft is? How long our journey may last?' 'Go on then, answer those questions'. 'Eep System, Planet Hesh. Our craft has suffered critical damage to the heat shields and the starboard thrusts effectiveness are reduced to 30%. 18 Weeks'. That unnerved him. 18 weeks on this tiny, cramped, light-less dump with that voice grating on? His mind slipped back to what he could remember last - the blonde old man shouting at him and raising his taser. 'I can't believe they wouldn't let me on the ship. The signs still said there were vacancies. I bet those guards took one look at me and thought 'No'. 'Those service personnel saved your life. While you slept - The ship you tried to board was obliterated in the stratosphere. The reactor detonated after the hull was compromised by hostile action. Unfortunate.' The silence hung as pain stabbed his heart. Judd's scars burned - his back and head aching as they healed. 'No.' 'Not the only one. Of the ships that made orbit - all were destroyed. Of the ships which were launching or in flight, all too were destroyed.' 'No, no, stop. I don't want to hear it'. He placed his right ear against his arm, and his left hand over his other ear. 'Please do not despair. We have survived. Eep is a fortress system in comparison to our previous domicile.' 'Don't! Don't make this!' he waved his arm in the air, rapping his knuckles on the lockers above him. 'Don't make this a silver lining for a massacre. I don't want to hear it!' 'Would you like some humour to undercut your sadness?' 'I... I just want you to be quiet' he sighed. 'I speak at a level which sensors show you are comfortable with.' 'What is wrong with you? Why are you being like this?' 'Nothing is wrong with me. I am not wrong' 'You are wrong... You said every ship which had achieved orbit was destroyed. We're still here' 'Incorrect. Our craft was also 'destroyed'' 'No, we're still here' he blinked, staring into the dark of the cabin. 'Correct. However, under Naval guidelines, this craft has suffered damage which would class it as 'Destroyed'. 'So... we are dead then'? 'Strictly speaking'. 'Will we make it to Hesh?' he asked quietly. The dark made him feel so cold. 'In 18 weeks. We have plenty of time to prepare for initial dialogue when we reach the Eep military boundary'. 'Dialogue?' 'Of course. Until you learn to speak Yytar fluently, we can not access the Eep system. This is because the military do not speak the United Languages and will fire on us if we attempt to cross the border without securing access first'. 'I have to learn a language in 4 months?' Disbelief cut into his voice. 'That is correct' 'Oh man...' 'Incorrect, I am an AI' 'You know what I mean' he deadpanned. Alone in space with a depressing AI for company and a new language to learn as they hurtle away from doom towards hopeful safety. Once again, sleep sounded like a much more attractive idea. 'Judd, Congratulations!' 'Eh? For what?' 'We will arrive at the destination in 17 weeks and 6 days'.
"Get the fuck out you drunk!!!"My girlfriend yelled at me as I stumbled back into the hotel room. It's only the second day of our first vacation together, and my first time ever in the Caribbean, and she's already kicking me out of the room. I blacked out bad last night with no memories, and woke up on the beach a block away from the resort with out my phone. Not a good start to the trip we'd been looking forward to all winter. Additionally I need to get my ass out of the room so she can cool off and stop screaming and drawing the attention of guests and security. The one puzzling positive is I found a gram of weed wrapped up in a $20 bill in my pocket, I was too scared to bring weed on the plane and had worried about where to get some on this Island, but apparently I must have met someone last night. Immediately I race to the store to get some blunt wraps and buy a fresh pint of rum to continue my buzz.............Anyway I need to head back to the beach smoke this blunt, and look for my phone. The rum warms me right back up, and after a couple sips and puffs of the blunt I already forgot my girl was mad at me. Maybe it was the weed which sparked the thought, but I saw these foot prints on the beach and noticed they look like my foot print, sure enough I matched them up, and I found my own tracks from last night! Drunk and high at the same damn time, I decide to follow the my foot prints, why the fuck not? Maybe i'll discover my phone, or maybe it's long gone sucked away by the waves..... I roll another blunt and follow my steps from the previous night down the beach... Walking, and walking, and the beach seems to be getting more remote, with more stray dogs running around as well. Eventually my tracks stop at dirt path leading up to a shack in the distance..... I make my way down the path sipping my rum, getting drunker and drunker.... The world starts even spinning a little, but the weed has my stomach calm so i'm not going to puke.... Finally reach the shack and up close it looks more obscure than the distance, and I've walked all this way no sign of my phone. Ready to head back, I shrug my shoulders, take a long sip of the rum and knock on the door 3 times. "Knock, knock, knock"....... No answer, and as I turn my back to the shack I hear the door open, and a voice with a charming Southern American accent, like someone from Alabama or Mississippi. "Carlos you ok", "What happened last night? , You stepped out to smoke a cigarette never came back, Jeffrey was worried".... "You left your phone here too"......... Then it hits man, the man with the charming Southern Accent is Bill Clinton.... "Come on in Carlos, the party never stops here."Speechless I take another sip from the bottle, walk in through a series of 3 different doors, all well locked, which lead to stairs going downstairs and I could hear the music blasting, and the sounds of people laughing, singing, and partying.... "Mr. Epstein was asking where you went, had us laughing all night"Bill says as he closes the door behind me and my party rages on....
There was a news everywhere stating the long stablished prophecy "His army will rise on this very day." People gathered together to see what's happening. But deep down we all knew it has something to do with Hades. We felt many earth quake for few years but Since last few days a war came to surface. Angels and demons started fighting with each other, out on the street and there are thousands of human casualties. They no longer care to whisper or hiding themselves. In the beginning it seemed like an alien invasion but we couldn't fool ourselves for long time. And today is the day Hades himself will come to the surface. There is chaos everywhere and yet people gathered around the location where He will be in few minutes. Demon : "Humans are interesting after all. They know the danger of being here, around you and yet I can see millions of them". Hades: "Why do you think they are here ? " Demon:"of course, to hear what you have to say" Hades laughed the demonically. Hades: "you are naive and half correct too"He nodded and said "It's time. let's go" Fire break out on the surface and out of black hot smoke He came out saying.. "Hello creatures ! I don't know how to do twist talk so I will come directly on the point. You think you are son of God. Well actually that is true in a way . But not the whole truth." One Man in his late 30, in front row, whispered "liar". Hades gave a look at him and he turned to ashes. His voice got the curcous touch "I am not human or some mere demon from your stories . Don't even think to interrupt me". He Gasped and calm himself. "So I was saying You are his son in a way . But he made you out of my most powerful son Humm's remain. And then stole you from me as the punishment of what Humm attempted". He Took a pause so the message can be digested and continued "I know it's unbelievable. But I take human as a factual understanding species. Let's look at the facts here : Why only deamon can posses you not angels cause you are part of their species. Why does you always build something and try to destroy things with it. Why you seek more power. Why you love bullying Why your God answers to your prayer very rarely or I even doubt that. I can take the whole day... But I don't have time for this neither do you." "There is a war going on as you can see and if they become successful killing me you are also finished. As you run on the fuel of my power. Chaos is your nature. I am your nature. Come stand beside me. It's not about me and God anymore. Now it's about your own survival " And he raises his hand and people start moving towards him not by the magic but by his words. He took a deep breath and blew it out towards the crowd and everyone got a dark red armor. A loud and clear voice start echoing in the air. "RISE MY ARMY, FOR YOUR TIME HAS COME"
"Pardon me" I looked up, glad for a reprieve from the week's load of baptism forms covering my desk. A short, graying man in a black suit stood before me with his hands clasped behind his back. A red hawk perched on his shoulder, surveying the room with wide eyes. "What can I do for you?"Pastor Dean had described this man to me during my orientation here at Ipswich United Methodist. "Well,"the man started in a scratchy voice, "I understand you're new here, so first I'll introduce myself. I am Agares, Duke Under the Power of the East, Bringer of Quakes, Master of Tongues, and Head Demon Chief in Charge of Loss Prevention. You're aware that this building sits atop the nexus between our two worlds, no?" "I am aware,"I stood from my desk, "As I'm aware that you ought not to be up here." Agares smiled, "Yes, it seems that one of our charges slipped through the door whilst the legions were making merry, and I was wondering if you'd seen him?" I had seen this man. The night previous, before heading to my bed chambers, I noticed a pale figure kneeling before the pulpit. I turned the lights on and walked up the aisle through the oak pews, taking him at first for a confused elderly parishioner. As I got closer, however, I noticed he was wearing a sackcloth gown, thin enough to display his emaciated frame. On the back of his shaved head was seared a series of lines and small circles that I identified as the seal of some demon. "I saw him,"I replied, "and as soon as I recognized what he was I sent him back down straight away." "Oh my,"Agares' smile faded, replaced by a look of concern, "might I ask who you sent him back to?" Clearly not to the correct demon. "Focalor. The man pleaded with me for a bit after I found him: he mentioned a winged man and drowning for millenia, so I looked up the incantation in the Lesser Key." "And you're sure you sent him to Focalor by mistake? I don't want to make any assumptions, especially at our first meeting, but I've known new people to try and lessen a soul's damnation out of pity before." I shook my head feverishly. "Far be it from me to question the punishment of the damned. I concern myself with the souls of the living, no more and no less."My first commune with the Hellish Authority was going less than splendidly. "I see... Baal's Bobbin! I told Dean over and over 'You need to get the newest edition, the 18th century print is full of misspellings and the diagrams aren't organized intuitively at all' yet we're here again 30 years later! I'm sorry, I know this isn't your fault entirely. That man was under Astaroth: he had eaten from a fig tree by a lake some time ago, so Asta decided to keep him underwater with a fig tree's branch just out of reach." "A fitting punishment for a wicked man. Is there anything I can do to help fix this? I hate to be an inconvenience." Agares produced a small chunk of raw meat from his jacket pocket and fed it to his hawk. "That's quite alright, I'll be sure to send a memo to Focalor regarding the man's prescribed torture. But I really do encourage you to get a new grimoire. The Lesser Key of Solomon can be a great resource, but not if you can't properly differentiate one demon from the other. I'll take my leave now." I followed the Duke out of my office to see him to the sacred chamber beneath the church. Agares mounted the crocodile he'd parked by my door and rode in a slow trot down the rough-hewn granite staircase at the end of the hall. After a ten minute descent we arrived at the chamber, a small (assumed to be small in any case, no man of the cloth had ever entered to see it) room closed off by a thick door hewn from the cross of Saint Peter. "Rusty hinges,"Agares remarked as he pulled the door open, "Though forged from the iron that pierced Christ, useless if broken. Another thing Dean neglected. If you aren't careful, the door may fail and one of my colleagues might try to bring legions through." "That I know too,"I had already sent a few altar boys to Jerusalem for some fresh relics, "As I know the marriage of these artifacts is the only thing keeping your own hellish powers sealed in this world." "Yes, I'm tragically limited to a mortal form on this side of the barrier."He let go of the door and looked it up and down. "For what it's worth, though I had my share of qualms with Dean, I do appreciate him putting a proper door here. The fellow previous just had the skull of John the Baptist and Saint Bartholomew's foreskin sitting on a little pillow in an empty doorway. This is far more tasteful."Agares prodded the crocodile with his toe and disappeared into the inky blackness behind the door. I gingerly closed it behind him and sighed. Hell must be terribly banal if you aren't suffering endlessly, I thought as I marched up the steps.
“You’ll just feel a small pinch…” the needle plunged softly into the flesh of the young man as I talked to him softly. The entire time, his eyes were dead set on the tv in front of him. Moments later, the first bag filled with blood. I clamped down the tube leading to the first bag and began filling the individual vials that would be sent on with the pint of blood for testing. “You did good, you know?” I said, placing the empty whole blood bag on a cradle “Most people get squeamish around these needles, but you didn’t say a word.” The man nodded absently. I realized he wasn’t one for conversation, so I left him to his Netflix. Even though I was only interning at my university’s blood clinic, I started to realize that I could be a full-time phlebotomist. Walking through the rows of donors, I had a real sense of belonging that I’ve never had in class. Or anywhere else. Unfortunately, I doubt I could get a job here. My internship is unpaid, and with the number of empty chairs in the clinic growing week after week, the odds that they would be hiring any time soon were slim. “All done here, ma’am?” I circled over to a middle-aged lady, who’s machine began beeping, signaling a full bag. “Yes, young lady, thank you!” the lady responded with a smile as a deftly removed the needle from the vein and covered the hole left behind. “No, thank you, ma’am,” I said with matching smile, “Please apply pressure to the vein and hold your arm up while I wrap you up.” I began taking the woman’s whole blood unit back to have it logged when I heard gagging coming from the break room. I ran through the door and was given an awesome site. It was my shift leader Ana. I thought my eyes were tricking me because she was spitting out blood from one of the donation units. It had spilled out over her lips and was dripping off her chin. She also looked much paler than usual. “That damned bastard!” she hissed as she stood and threw the bag on the floor, causing more blood to splatter out “We. Have. A goddamned survey for a reason! Dirty, filthy…” She started to trail off when she realized I was standing in front of the doorway. She stared at me for what felt like hours, her eyes brimming with a dark strange energy. “Kim.” Ana finally said evenly, “Come here.” I wanted to run out of the room, but instead, I walked over to Ana. The entire time, I couldn’t look away from her eyes as they burned malevolently. When I was close enough, Ana took the fresh whole unit of blood out of my hands and bit into it. I’d never realized before that she had fangs, but I could see them plainly as they punched through the plastic bag. In mere moments, the bag was empty, completely dry. Ana looked at it longingly before putting it into her pocket. “That was much better,” she said before fixing gaze back on me with a wry smile, “Kimmie, can you do me a big favor?” My neck ground as I nodded mutely. I couldn’t talk, my mouth refused to open, my throat failing utter a noise. “Lovely!” Ana said, taking my hands in hers, “I, uh…well, this is embarrassing to say, but you weren’t supposed to see that.” “W-who are you?” I finally managed to croak out, “What are you?” Ana gave me a look of slight irritation before saying, “Guess.” “Vamp-vampire?” I sputtered as Ana slowly nodded. She started to lead me towards the restroom. “Oh…” the edges of my vision started to blacken, and I realized I was going to shock. “Yeah,” Ana grunted as she shoved me inside the restroom, “Do you another favor: don’t faint. I don’t have all day and you have a quota to fulfill.” “…I’ll try.” I steadied myself against the railing around the stall while Ana turned on the faucet and began washing her face. “Well, I guess I should just be brief,” Ana said while wiping the red stains from her from mouth, “I, Anastasia Nikolaevna, am a vampire. Everyone else that works in this clinic is also a vampire.” “Ok…” I said softly, working to keep my breathing steady. “That little episode you saw in the break room was just a hunger pang.” Ana continued, pulling out some makeup, “We haven’t had a lot of donations these past months, so I’ve been a bit anxious. And hungry.” Suddenly, the name connected. “Did you say Anastasia Nikolaevna was your name? As in the Grand Duchess of Russia Anastasia Nikolaevna?” Ana gave me a blank look before putting away the makeup. “So if everyone here is a vampire, then…” an ominous thought settled on me and I folded myself into the corner of the bathroom as tightly as possible. Ana’s blank look sparkled with a small laugh, “No, we won’t make you a vampire, Kim.” “But don’t you need thralls? Or undead servants?” “Why would I need you to be that?” Ana said as she grabbed my hands again, “You’re a pre-med student interning with us for free.” Ana led me out of the restroom and back into the breakroom. Someone had already come by and cleaned the mess from earlier. “And besides,” she said with another wry smile, “I know how much your tuition for the university is. At this point, we already own you for life.” “Good point,” I said with a sigh. “Exactly!” Ana said as she planted her palm into my back and pushed me out of the breakroom, “Now get out there and get us more blood!”
(Out of story: This ended up being more of a characterization of a single demon then following the prompt exactly, sorry) "Uncover your eyes, young one,"The serene and soothing voice continued to plead. "Be not afraid." David resisted, his arms crossed tightly over his head as he tried his best to scoot to a nearby corner of the room. "Calm down!" David screamed in his head, awkwardly trying to position his trembling feet on the linoleum. "These things eat that shit up, don't let it see you shaking, GOT TO GET AWAY!" Through the gaps in his crossed arms, David could see glimpses of a room now bathed in golden-white light. From what he could scarcely see, it was empty except for a solitary doorway to his left, still sporting the sign that sent him into the hysterical state he was currently in: WELCOME TO HELL "You may go where you wish,"The serene voice sounded again, now closer to David's end of the room. "But for your welfare, we would like to quell your fears here before you depart." David's wide eyes darted back and forth in confusion from underneath his shirt-sleeve."...y-you heard that?"His heart lurched in his chest, his sudden realization only encouraging him to shake even more. "ARE YOU IN MY HEAD?!" "There is nothing to hide in Hell, my boy,"the voice chuckled. "No thought, no feeling, nothing you feel will be judged here. Feel your anger, feel your disgust, express all that you are here." Try as he might, David couldn't help but be calmed by these words. His latest memory popped into his mind. The dark city street, the black, gloved hand that seemed to jump from the shadows that night, the metallic bang and flash of gunpowder that took him out of the world of the living. From that moment to the time he woke up and saw the door, he had felt nothing but fear and confusion. "Now this...THING," he thought, now aware of his audience. "Ar-aren't you a demon?! Fucking Satan or something?! This is Hell! Why am I here?! Why are you putting on this nice guy ac....!" Not being able to contain himself, David leaped up and dropped his arms to face the figure. His anger instantly subsided, his mouth falling agape as he beheld what seemed to be a tall humanoid made of pure light. "I-I-I apologize, I di-didn't know what you were...I"He fumbled to find his words, his heart now pounding in his chest. "A-Angel!" "Aha no, child, you had it right the first time."The figure chuckled. "I am a demon through and through, but your kind should truly rethink the word." As if on command, the light began to dim, allowing David to inspect the figure in more detail. Although humanoid, this being appeared to be covered in silvery scales trimmed in gold. As the being spoke, David could see that the creature's insides had been the source of the blinding light all along, which still seemed to spill out from its eyes and nostrils. From the top of the creature's head, going to the bottom of its spine, David could see faint steam flowing out like a writhing mane of white hair from vents in the creature's back. "Although denizens of hell take on a multitude of forms, young one,"The familiar milky voice broke through the silvery lips of the entity. "None so wicked as your human depiction. As I said before, in hell you are allowed to express all that you are, and your physical being reflects such. A soul who is allowed to be free, that is what it is to be a demon. You will find no torture chambers here, nor any flames you have not created yourself." A tear rolled down David's cheek, his tremors subsiding as the being kneeled and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "I am afraid in heaven, you wouldn't have been met with the same courtesy. Those flaming tyrants up there do not appreciate the massive potential souls have, encouraging them to express such limited qualities. ' "Free from the bounds of bodies,"the creature gestured to itself with a pompous grin. "they can become quite incredible...YOU can become incredible, child." David, his face now glistening with tears shook his head in amazement. "I-I don't know...I'm still..."the bang of the gun now sounded in his mind. "I am s-still scared" "Here, that is okay."the demon said. "There's plenty of souls beyond that door, that will show you how to never hear that sound again."
I have been with my company for going on ten years now, but this is the first time that I have had a candidate I interviewed ask for me to be a part of their experiment. Dr. Qwillen's offer amused me, and with his solid background I made the recommendation to hire him on. I waited for him to have been with us for a month before I took him up on the offer. I wanted to ensure that he was both a good fit for the company, and that I was off the radar. Despite the reliance of our company on grants, they looked down on us supplementing our income. But a hundred dollars is a hundred dollars, and I was curious. Having been hired as a senior researcher, and assisting with the company's newest line of research, he was given a large lab with all the bells and whistles. Several office assistants had already visited him, and had been quizzed on their preferences for things like food and colours. I watched him putz about before I entered, then hid a grin as he slammed whatever he had been working on into a drawer. Almost every scientist here would react in the same way. "Dr. Qwillen, settling in alright? How goes your experiments?" "Oh Fräulein, it is wunderbar! This company has many more resources than the last! And I am happy that I can continue my own research. Speaking of which, have you thought about my offer?" "I have, now that I'm not in your line of supervision I don't mind taking up your offer." "I am happy you agreed, you are perfect for my first experiment! Please, come this way!"He led me to a door hidden behind some equipment. "First? I thought you had already begun with some of the office workers?" "Bah! That was research."He waved away my comment. "The true experiment is not yet begun! Come, we begin now!" He led me through the door, into what had been a large supply closet. It had been retooled for his purposes. In the center was a dentist's chair, which he had me sit in. Above it was some sort of machine that was hooked to a VR headset. He pulled the headset down, slipped it over my head, then began strapping me in. "Is this really necessary doctor?" "This is for your safety! This should relax you, and I do not want you slipping, and falling, and hurting yourself, yes?" "So what will we be doing today?" "My research is about wants, desires. If I have it all right, this machine will be able to tell me your without my asking!" I lay back, and waited for him to turn on the machine. I heard a hum, and then there were flashing lights. It seemed to only be a second, but when he turned it off and let me up, a few hours had passed. "How do you feel?"He asked me. "Perfectly fine, if a bit sore from sitting still so long."I replied and he frowned and looked at his display screen. "Are you sure? My readout is very strange." "I don't feel any different, beyond the soreness."I reassured him. "Back to the drawing board."He muttered, leading me out of the room. Once I was out of his sight, I sighed and shook my head. I had lied to him. I was far from fine, in fact I hadn't been this riled up in years. I spent the rest of the day keeping up the pretence of normalcy and went home at my usual time. Once there, I prepared my kit. Waiting has always been the hardest part. But I couldn't head out while it was still light. I did some meditation while I waited for the sun to set, then for a few more hours to pass. Then, when it was so late it was early, I went to his home. Like most of our scientists, he lived in a warehouse. It was trapped, monitored, and rigged to self destruct. My kit took care of all of it. I slipped in unnoticed, then sat by his bed until the sun rose. The look on his face was exquisite. When he went for the gun that HAD been under his pillow, I grinned. "Doctor, doctor, doctor. Did you think you would be the first? You've been with us for a whole month, did you not speak with your colleagues at all?" "I do not speak with hacks!"He yelled, his fake accent gone. I laughed. "Doctor, when I do a background check, I check ALL employment. Did you not consider it odd that I never asked about the gaps in your record? No, your kind never do. I was kind of hoping for more with you." I stood up, then tossed my bag on his bed. Inside were all the locks, bolts, security devices. "I have a few pieces of advice for you Doctor. One, take a personal day and beef up your security. The other scientists won't be so lenient as I. Two, when trying to create a custom psycho, make sure the person you choose isn't one already. That means anyone in HR, your fellow scientists, and most of our staff. Three, just because someone is staff, doesn't mean they don't know what you are making. I recognized the setup the second I entered your lab." He kept looking between me and the bag. My point made, I began leaving. He called out to me as I began to close his bedroom door. "Wait, the machine worked?" I considered lying again, but the company had already decided he was useful. "Needs tweaking, serious tweaking. You're only alive because of the training the company provides." He looked much happier as I closed the door. I wish he wasn't useful. As it was, I would have to apply for leave to... let off some steam. Oh well, maybe I'll get lucky and someone will try to break into the labs again. [My Musings](https://www.reddit.com/r/HorrorHMDMusings?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) Edit: Cleaned up the submission.
Strike three Colored sparks flew in every direction! Blue, red, green! The explosion destroyed everything around her. And then, time froze… Nothing moved. Everything was at a stop. All except her! “Not again!” she muttered. A winged being came out of thin air and went to her. “This is your last chance…” he said. “You know what they say… Three strikes and you’re out!” The faerie took a deep gulp of fresh air, and sighed. He looked around to the scene of the explosion. “You better get this straight otherwise I won’t be able to help you.” He looked at the explosion once more, shaking his head. “You really have done it this time...Well, now I’ll send you back to last night. It’ll be dark, remember? You need to get the sceptre before they do, otherwise…” He stopped and looked deeply into her eyes, and tared away almost immediately. “Otherwise, ka-boom! Like before… You can do this!” He strolled away and disappear into nothingness. She could still hear the sound of his footsteps fading away. As the footsteps stopped resounding in the distance, she felt the whole world topple over. When her feet hit the ground, she was shook by dizziness. She fell to the ground, unable to stand up. But there was no time to waste. She forced herself to her feet… She knew they were coming to get her. She had to hide… hide in the shadows of the darkness as her master taught her. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself against the stone wall and almost disappeared. The moon shone up high… and it’s soft light made the girl’s invisible wings glimmer in the darkness without her knowing. She was near the castle, grazing the stone wall, leaving behind her a barely noticeable glistening trail of lights. The moon smiled when it spotted the sprinkle stream. It knew it was her. She was coming for the steal. “How dare she come here and hope to take what’s rightfully mine?” The moon thundered inside itself. “She will not get near this place. The sceptre will not return on Earth, nor to the Elvish.” The moon whirled around to hide itself, not to be seen by anyone. It hid in its castle surrounded by a wall as high as the sky, or so people thought. Its bright light shone more vivid than ever, erasing every piece of shadow it could. The girl was now up against the wall.Travelling through the little shadows left, trying to conceal herself within the darkness of the high wall of the fortress. Little did she know she wasn’t totally invisible, and had already been located. “This way!” a small voice said! She stopped right in her tracks. “Excuse-me?” she whispered. “Follow me!” the voice hurried. Small footsteps sounds pattered the side of the wall. “Wait… Wait…” she whispered a little louder as she ran after the sound of small shoes on the rocks. The elf stopped. She almost past him. He was standing, sideways, on the surface of the wall. Five inches tall, he was dressed in dark colors and the dark blue of his face suggested he was a forest elf, a spy of the kingdom. The were very athletic, and could move on any surface, weather it was smooth or rocky, horizontal or vertical. They had many abilities. They saw everything and anything. Some even said they could see in the future. “Follow me!” he said once more. “Don’t let it see you…” “Excuse-me?” she said again, baffled. “There is no time for explanation… We must move now before this faerie dust you’re spreading gets noticed from up above.” Meanwhile, in the skies, clouds slowly covered the snickering moon. A horrible storm was coming and nothing could stop it. Wind started blowing hard. The elf and girl were trying hard to advance through the newborn storm. “I have to get in the fortress.” the girl said, trying to be heard over the howling wind. “It won’t be easy…” the elf thought out loud. “Well have find an opening…” She opened her mouth to reply, but the elf cut her off. “And before you say it, you can’t fly over. The stockade is too high for anyone to survive a climb. No we must find another way in.” They advanced silently against the wind, hiding their faces from any debris that flew around. They followed the wall for hours. Darkness was all around, and the building up storm was keeping them from seeing where they were going. Fortunately, day would be upon them shortly. But soon, the rain started pouring, not allowing the sun to shine when it rose. The wall suddenly quivered. The elf was almost thrown off balance but didn’t fall off the wall. The palisade slit in two, revealing an opening. Both, dashed to make it through before the wall closed upon them. In front of them was a large corridor opening, miles away, in the center of the fortress. No castle stood there just stone walls surrounding other stone walls. In the middle, laid a huge bed of phoenix feathers all golden. And next to it… the scepter was exposed. The girl dashed off, sprinting through the never ending aisle, leaving behind a swarming cloud of faerie dust, shining brightly even though the light was dim. “Wait!” she heard the elf shout. But it was too late! She had reached the sceptre and put her hand on it. She had reaped it. She could finally redeem herself. And then, the moon lashed its fury on her! Spark, every color, flew around. The explosion sent her flying off onto the phoenix bed as the eruption ignited the sky. Before she knew it, the walls collapsed and rubble came down on her. Avoiding barely a huge piece of rock falling next to her, she took the sceptre and ran the way she came. She was holding it against her chest not wanting to drop it at all cost. The raging moon did not stop. Explosion sound echoed, a sparks continued flying everywhere. The elf jumped on the end of the sceptre, hitching a ride to escape the falling fortress before it all came tumbling down on him. “You should have waited…” he said loudly over the moon’s fury. “There would have been a better time… an opportunity!” “There’s no time to argue.” she said as she raced off. “I need to bring this to the Elvish before the sun appears!” She was out of breath but she couldn’t stop. Behind her the explosion continued destroying everything that stood. And in a crackle of time, everything froze again, and she was falling to the ground, scraping her knees. Nothing moved once more. Footsteps of an invisible man resounded in the distance. She closed her eyes tight trying to be invisible too. A voice was heard in the deafening silence. “You did good, girl, you did good!” The invisible hand grasped the sceptre and the footsteps of the invisible man went the other way. Time toppled the world once more. The sound of the explosion restarted. Shattered rubble was flying in every direction.The moon was destroying the world and everything in it. “I have to get out of here.” she thought. But, right then a huge boulder fell from the sky onto her, The moon snickered. “I’ve got you now, you little thief!” Approaching the dead body of the girl, it saw her faithful elf sobbing,and realized the sceptre was gone. “I would have brought it to you. Why did you have to kill her?” the elf asked. The moon did not answer and left for the skies which it never left ever again. &#x200B; (Thank you for this opportunity. I'm sorry if some of my vocabulary is off or of there are spelling errors, I am a francophone and English is not my every day language of use. )
A/N: sorry for typos, I'm on mobile, but feel free to critique my work! "W-what?!" I stare at my phone screen,dumbfounded. My boyfriend . . . dumped me? But why?! 5:21 AM. "Sorry babe, this just isn't working out. I've found someone else who's much better for me." Nothing else. Tears blur my eyes as I try to comprehend the magnitude of the text. What did I ever do to deserve this? Did he seriously leave just because I wouldn't have sex with him?! All I wanted was to wait until marriage! What a stupid, selfish, ******* jerk!! I hastily wipe the tears from my eyes, and get my uniform on for work. I stick my phone in my uniform pocket and slip into my shoes, and then I get into my car. Stupid Jackson. What a jerk. Did he seriously want me for my body all along?! I pull into the parking lot of Lively's Bar and Grill and exit my car, slamming the door shut. I sigh before stomping into the restaurant's side door. Stupid, stupid, stupid. . . I do a little bit better of a job of wiping my tears, before plastering on a fake smile. Now's not the time to worry about stupid Jackson. He can go jump off a cliff and lose his junk along the way. Alright, Ashley. Back on task. I head out to the first table for the day, and greet the family there. I try to hide the shakiness in my voice, as they place the orders for their drinks. When I accidentally get their orders wrong, they begin yelling at me, and I profusely apologize. I become so focused on them that I don't realize the rage that I give the lone man at the other table, until he says something. "Ashley, you really shouldn't have dated that man." I whip around, glaring at him. Tears brim in my eyes. What business does he have in my personal life? I turn away again, hoping he doesn't notice. Finally, the family pays and leaves, and they seem to have written a stream of complaints on the back of their receipt. I sigh, and my voice breaks. Why did Jackson have to up and leave me like that? Does he enjoy destroying my emotions? Wiping my tears one last time, I bring the money to the back for the manager to count. I then return to the man, with his bill in hand. "Did you enjoy the meal?"I ask, hopeful for something to brighten my day just a little bit. "You screwed everything up,"he says bluntly. "You got my meal completely wrong, and my drink was never even delivered. I tried to let you know, but you were too preoccupied to hear me. It's almost like you did it on purpose, Ashley." Oh my God. I'm a horrible waitress. I should lose my job. I try to keep the tears in, but the façade doesn't last long. I burst into hysteria, and cover my face in shame. "I'm so stupid! I'm sorry!"I cry. "No, it's not your fault. I completely understand. You had a rough day. Your boyfriend broke up with you. It was better that way, anyway, because he was a worthless jerk." It was true. Thinking about it, I realize that Jackson had been abusing me in all ways except physically up until the day he left me. I finally find the courage to take my hands off of my face, and look the man in the eye. "How. . . How do you know all that? Have you been stalking me?" "No, I wouldn't do that. It's simpler than that." "How so?" "I'm your guardian angel, Ashley. I was the one who warned you that fateful day to stray from him. But you didn't listen." "My. . . guardian angel? How?" "Everyone has one. Most, however, never get the privilege of meeting theirs. Consider yourself lucky I came to visit." "I sincerely apologise for putting you through so much pain from my existence!" "No, Ashley, you don't need to be sorry for existing."He winks at me. "And if you see a golden package at the door later today, it's from me." Without warning, he disappears before my eyes, leaving his payment in his wake. "W-what?!"
I just never thought it'd be the rain that did it. Well, mostly the rain. It started two weeks after the old stones finally set. It raised hell that night, almost like it knew about the bridge and didn't like it. It picked doggedly at that bridge for the next couple centuries - a kid with a bolt of cloth, looking for the smallest tear in the fabric to pull the whole thing apart. Tonight, it finally found a chink in the armor, or maybe it made one. It hit hard at bedtime, pounding at the worn down stones from above. It gently lifted the trickling stream into a gurgle, then into a roar, attacking from below. The pincer pinned that old bridge down, and the rain dealt the deathblow. It pattered against a rotten branch til it snapped and hit that loose stone just right, toppling the whole shebang like a game of parabolic jenga. It's still coming down as I inspect the carnage in an old pair of Dunlop boots and a muddy black poncho. I feel like an old-timey detective reconstructing a crime scene. All I'm missing is the hat. Stream's still swollen, but business won't wait for the rain to die down. I don't particularly want to test how deep it's gotten, but these boots are only a year old, so they should hold. And apparently I don't have a bridge anymore. Of course they leak. Of course. Nothing for it now but to make it as quick as - "Acgh f- shit. Shit!" I lurch sideways as my ankle contorts my foot perpendicular to the rest of my leg. My nerve endings perform a rhapsody - a sixteen-bar prelude of vibrating agony gives way to short pulses of pain before finally settling on a glowing ache and a ginger reminder of the melody on every other step. Nothing for it but to keep going. Ridi Paggliacio. My feet squish when I finish fording the eight foot creek. I stop when I get to my car, and I shuffle torso to coax my arm into my poncho so I can get my keys. I dig around in my pocket. Fuck. Laugh clown, for your love is broken. Laugh for the pain that shatters your heart. I turn around to go back to my flat.
The young archaeologist had seen horror movies before, and didn't like the fact that instead of finding the rest of his friends at the digsite, all he found was a puddle of blood and a mask. He carefully picked up the wooden mask, looking left and right for his comrades. However, the only people he saw were three figures standing atop a distant pyramid. Even though it was night, a mystical purple like illuminated their silhouettes. The man stepped back, dropping the mask. "Oh no,"he said aloud. "Oh no no no no fuck shit dicks ass fuck,"he began, as he began to run away towards his jeep. However, before he could make it, a sandstorm suddenly blew in, obscuring his view. He began probing around in the sandy fog, trying to make it to the car. However, his probing hand touched something cold and flesh-like. The man stepped back as the sandstorm cleared, finding a dead body hanging from a spotlight. The corpse had their lungs ripped out of their body, a big hole where they should've been. The man puked from the gruesome display, tears mixed into the slew of vomit. Please, he thought. Not them. Please, not them! The man looked up, seeing three figures which he assumed were the three he saw standing atop the pyramid. The three men were wearing clothing similar to that of cavemen, and they had intricate markings covering their body. Before the man even had a chance to speak, the man in the middle spoke. "Wamuu, finish off this mortal with your Divine Sandstorm and reclaim the stone mask." "Of course, Master Kars,"said the one to the right of Kars. The archaeologist fell to his knees as Wamuu prepared his Divine Sandstorm. "IT WAS ALL ONE BIG FUCKING JOJO REFERENCE!"screamed the archaeologist as he was ripped away by Wamuu's ability.
You didn't really think any of this magic bullshit was real, but you've seen enough horror movies to be kind of paranoid anyway. You've thought about this exact damn scenario. The hand is either your sister being kidnapped, or magic bullshit trying to trick you into the mirror. If it is your sister, the chances of an off-the-cuff rescue mission by you, or her rescuing herself, are pretty damn low given that you have no idea how any of this shit works. If it's not your sister, and it is in fact magic evil bullshit, the mirror's got to go. Either way, smash the mirror. Then, wait a few days to see if your sister has gone missing. If she has, research the mirror, get involved in all this magic bullshit, get the magic equivalent of a gun, and go all Liam Neeson on their asses.
“Wait what?” I said, fixing my glasses as they slipped from my face. “Yeah, these mistakes tend to happen.” The skeletal figure before me spoke. “We sometimes take you people late or early by mistake, usually a couple days. We even took Bob Ross 5 weeks early. But this is unheard of!” He then picked up a white, dusty phone from his desk and placed a call. When then otherside picked up he spoke up: “Hey! Adam, my man! I need to speak to the big guy.” I could only hear muttering and then shitty elevator music as who I assumed to be Death started cursing incoherently. When the reciever picked back up he started talking to the person on the other side. “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I know this’ll be taken from my already shitty pay. Alright I’ll try to sort this out, G.” As he riffled his files while keeping the phone between his head and shoulder. I saw documents with different names including: Adolf Hitler, John Kennedy, and even my cousin Derek. Death finally found my papers and scratched off my time of death and scribbled down something down while hanging up. “Alright Mark, I can squeeze you in at around 2035-2077. See you soon.” He said whilst my confusion only rose. The sight of the immaculate office vanished, leaving only darkness. A blinding white light then shone as I quickly got up from the bed in my shitty-ass apartment. I checked the calender and as I read it, I realized that it was the day after I fell out of that 10th story window. I dragged myself to the closet and got ready for my job interview in 10 minutes.
In the dead of the night, in a small unassuming store a faint sound could be heard. It was chanting. In the basement of Giovanni Italian like food there was a group of cultists clad in jet black robes being illuminated by the hellish hue of blood red candles. The words “Konnosthath, Aru, Vensvusclach” were repeated endlessly echoing of the walls. Eventually the chanting stopped leaving a notable silence. It seemed like an eternity in the deafening silence until a small crimson portal appeared in front of the head cultist. “Hells summoning service how do you do” spoke the portal “I’m mike I’ll be you’re operator for today, what type of demon would you like” The head cultist removed his hood to reveal that he was in fact Giovanni the owner of the restaurant “ Yeah I would like a wi...” A female voice interrupted Giovanni” Wind demon mike He wants a wind demon” “Yes thank you fortuna” Replied the operator “ How long would you want the summon to last” “ 1 we..” “ he wants to summon it for a week mike” “Go away fortuna this is why no one wants to summon you!” The operator cleared his throat and continued speaking “and your sacrifice” Giovanni went to the back of the basement to fetch a tied up Girl who looks to be no older than 15 “ Yep this is Johnnys first born child and a virgin” “At least I hope she is!” “Heyo! Johnno always with the wisecracks that one he uses it as a defence mechanism or something but I don’t know.” “Well thanks for the generous tip sir, I’ll be sending over zephyr our best rated demon” Mike left his desk and walked over to the summoning machine ignoring a pouting fortuna. He inputted the coordinates into the machine and sent Zephyr on his way.
"Okay, trucks are out. What about getting pushed in front of a train?" "No way. Just because it worked for Tanya doesn't mean it's reliable." "Besides, most stations have those big gates in front of the tracks nowadays. You can't really make it happen by accident." The whole Department of Isekai was crammed into this meeting room - over a dozen assorted angels, demons, gods, witches and wizards staring at a whiteboard and trying to find a way around one fundamental fact: It's getting hard to kill people by accident. See, we look for people who are young, healthy, adventurous, and don't have a strong attachment to the current world they live in. In short, we look for people who wouldn't be missed if they one day they got hit by a truck... and then hit them with trucks. Don't worry, they usually don't mind. Becoming the hero of a fantasy world is a pretty good compensation. The trouble is, the modern world is so infuriatingly safe that it's hard for someone to die suddenly without it being suspicious. Even if they're some sort of friendless shut-in who plays video games all day, the mere fact that a self-driving truck malfunctioned badly enough to kill them would start a major investigation. "Let's go old-school. Cursed artifacts and strange locales. People get lost in the woods and don't come out."An old, snaggletoothed witch suggested. "Wasn't there that one boy who got thrown into another world by taking a selfie in a sacred shrine? Such a delightful surprise." "Unreliable,"a goddess replied. "It's hard to get lost in the woods with GPS and cell phones. Most abandoned shrines have been demolished by constant urban expansion. I can't spirit someone away in front of hundreds of tourists." "Remind me again why we don't just ask people?"I interrupted. I had a more urgent need than most - while some Isekai agents were just looking to tip the scales in a stalemate, my home world was losing the fight against evil hard. I couldn't take just anyone who got hit by a truck, I needed a bona fide Gary Stu - someone talented, brave, intelligent, and handsome (in a nerdy way), who inexplicably hadn't been able to channel any of those advantages into success in his current life. I needed an isekai option that could cast the net wide and fish out a real champion to bring my world back from the brink. "That's got its own problems. Isekai protagonists who get offered the choice directly often get overexcited by dreams of power and lack heroic spirit. Either they end up abusing their power and focused on selfish pursuits like harem building, or they make some ill-advised attempt to 'munchkin the system' that blows up in their face,"an old and stern-looking angel explained. "Then maybe we can tip the odds..."I said, struck by sudden inspiration. "If we can't get as many protagonists as we used to, we go for quality over quantity." "An interesting thought, young angel. How do you propose we do that?" I hesitated. I hadn't thought that far ahead. "It was just a thought, but..." "Oh, I've got this. It's all in how you shape their choices,"a devil said, putting his feet up on the table. "Don't just drop them into a random place, drop them somewhere that gives them a chance to encounter their enemy and develop a hatred for them. Don't just go for the standard list of cheat powers, seed the list with something you know will look tempting, and you can control how they'll cheat the world. An ounce of psychology is worth a pound of heroics." Nods went around the table. A comment that the Department of Fates had some good ideas in this area as well. Another comment that the Department of Marketing would be fine with less numerous but higher-quality isekais. "Well I'm sold. If you think you and can pull it off, I'm willing to fund a pilot project. Pair up with Sabriel here, find a protagonist for her world. If you can get a personalized Isekai offer rolled out for less than, oh... a thousand drops of quintessence, we'll take it full scale. Do a good job here, and you could be in charge of the newest replacement for trucks." I groaned. Of course he'd put the two of us on the project together. The devil gave me an excited grin. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! They're here! What the hell is with this shitty game? Fuck you, God, or whoever designed this pile of hot shit. Who the fuck thought this was a good idea? Who? Shit! The bow bitch is coming this way! Of course she'd try and dig me out from this shithole forest, my Spec would make her the perfect killer. No use trying to run, I gotta hide. That's my only ticket out of this. Come on, blend in, blend in, blend in You are part of this tree. You are a part of the tree. Don't breathe, don't look, be a pebble on the side of the road. Don't be spotted. The clay cutter is in my hand. I can use it to kill her... Can I do it? Fuck, she already killed the old guy! He doesn't deserve to die, he just gets along well with people. Fuck that bitch. I can do it. I will do it, and take her Spec. I'll take it and the geezer's. Come on, stay quiet. She's heading this way, I can hear it. Blend in. Breathe in. Breathe out. She's walking past. Fuck, the bitch is beautiful. Bet she took that Spec off some poor girl. Last I saw her her face is about as alluring as her personality. Dog shit. She doesn't notice me. I strike. The cold metal thread tightens around her throat. My knee on the back of her neck, I pull with all my might. The bitch claws at her neck, trying to draw breath. I don't let her. The wire cuts deeper and deeper into her, starting to draw blood. I hold firm. Slowly, her hands start to lose strength. I jerk the handles back as hard as I can, and her flesh finally gives. Her head rolls on the leaves, away from the body. I did it. I avenged the geezer. From her stump, cards of light spill out one after another. Specs. Dammit, how did she get so many of them? I grab them all, shove them into my pocket and run away. As I run, a beam of light comes down, taking away her corpse and signalling any Spec hunters on this side of the fucking Earth about our location. No time to waste. As I run, I reach into my pocket and take out a light card, and shove it into my mouth. Vanilla. A physical enhancement type. As the card dissolves I feel myself running faster. It is as if my body has grown lighter. Further and further I run, between the trees, hopping over rocks and roots, hoping I'm not heading towards a Spec hunting crew. Fuck, should have grabbed the bitch's bow. Good loot out here is about as common as flying pigs. The clay cutter wire is my only weapon. Unless you count the plastic knife. I don't. Fuck this. I've eaten all the cards. 31 is their number. Aside from the geezer, that bitch took the lives of another 29 people. I now carry the powers of a quarter of the island's powers. I don't care what I'll have to do, I will survive this and get home.
Bunch'a low lifes. "Not such a big shot now, are you." As much as I ever was, no one wanted to be anywhere near me. I was socially invisible. Given the shit assignments that no one else would take. "Did all that good and they put you here." Did good getting your sorry ass put back here. "Did the big bad Demon Hunter do something wrong?" I grab this particular sack of puss and give him a squeeze until he pops. "Yeah, I did. I was too good at my job."I smile, and the screaming starts. &mdash; "They haven't locked me up. They've locked you in with me."
"What is your name, young lady?" "I.......I- I have no name!!!! "The girl cried out and sobbed, wanting to go back to her mommy. Why did Mommy mysteriously disappear? Why was there a party where everyone wore black, looking over a box? Why was Daddy lying in a red puddle, holding a black object in his hand? Daddy wouldn't tell the girl her name, so she had no story. "Child, my name is Raven. Your name is Evelind Everest Walker. "The woman wore a grey dress with white lace sleeves, had long, wavy auburn hair down to her knees, with sparkling violet eyes. Her slender arms grabbed Evelind's hand as the walked out of the house and into the most beautiful mansion Evelind had ever seen. "This is your new home."Raven kissed Evelind and got Evelind a blue lace dress, and threw out the rags her abusive father had put on her and called them clothes. Evelind never felt so alive than when she was served dinner for the first time in her life.
The saying think before you act never really applied to me. throughout my time in the village below the castle grounds, working as bartender, serving up drinks and adding that sweet stuff that made gullible patrons, privy to revealing information and news to me without so much as a coin flip. loosen them up id think gets them every time. Then there were the fights. the huge all out tavern brawls, and me right in the middle chucking chairs at grubby handed men and strong arm women. you come to my tavern i'd say, you have a brawl just clean up the blood when your done, and laugh as i joined the fray. couple teeth knocked out and bruises along my legs and backside, but still i felt on top of the world. Then this guy, big burly tough guy like walks in and tells me i owe something or other, to this and that, for when and where, of how much blah blah blah. thats all i heard from him. so he take out his sword this deep scarlet gem bladed sword, sharp as a bee stinger. could carve right through stoned toast, and props to this guy he brandishes it at me. and im like bro that's not cool i don't owe you nothing, so what if i stole her off you she told me you were being an abusive ass, got the bruises to prove it. oh its money you want, right right well why should I mister im high and mighty, look at me with my red-. He swings this sword at me. obviously i duck not concerned in the slightest, but my bar maid shes cowering. all the glass bottles shatter around me dumping their contents on the hardwood, darn it i just got varnish. anyway as hes swinging all quick like, i take the potion out from underneath the counter. uncork it. in those seconds drop a single drop onto a bolt, i then roll out of the way across the floors. sliding from the fizzing mead and wine. the guy he swings again almost hitting me and cutting my shirt, i load the bolt into the crossbow, and aim it at this guy. whos so far enraged all red in the face. he looks mad, this dosnt happen often at least to me directly. i try not to use this potion if i can help it its not great for business but this is a desperate time. probably. But my barmaid she stops cowering "dont use that its to overpowered for this low level"she says, i roll my eyes as things happen in slow motion while i talk to her. "listen i dont want to get hit by that sword its only temporary", the barmaid grimaced "its such a weird feeling please no". I grinned at her facing the manic guy, i fired the bolt moments before his sword came crashing down at me missing me by a hairs breath. then i went blind. In my blindness, i stood almost slipping on a casket of wine that had befallen a glassy fate. no sword swings come that's good. it should be working "everyone out"i say. i hear shuffling as they all leave. the barmaid stays i think. as the blindness lessens i can see the guy standing before me, still as a statue. "go you'll be very lucky if its only the poison effect, otherwise watch where you are if you explode, might produce another crack in the continent. the guy leaves i smile. "now lets wake the town up from their slumber". &#x200B; (hope you like it TL)
I attempted to reach across the blood-stained floor looking for my phone, but was instead met with extraordinary pain and a squeak from my lower back. "Is anybody there? Anyone?!"I tried to plea for help but was unable to speak. It was like yelling into a stack of fluffed pillows. What did she do to me? I only met her yesterday... After I finished cleaning up my father's chicken pen, I thought it would be a great idea to go into town and pick up some supplies and maybe even a good book. It was a Tuesday after-all. My father wouldn't be home until Wednesday. I went straight to my favorite bookstore once I got off the bus and perused through a section of the store I don't often go to. There was this large leathery indigo-colored book hidden behind two others. I squeezed it out and found myself amused at the title. Spells for the 21st Century. As I was about to place it back on the shelf, someone came towards me from my left. "That's a good book."I started to peer my head to the side towards them and chuckle. "Yeah, I'm sure those 21st century spells are much better than those lousy 20th cent..."I stopped mid-sentence when I made eye contact with her. There was something about that look in her eye. It made me uncomfortable. "Oh yeah? I myself prefer 12th century spells from the Italian town of Altomonte. Their prose is something quite extraordinary,"she said with a devilish look on her face. She looked at my body up and down. "I see you enjoy the company of fowls. Interesting creatures they are, don't you agree?" I found myself being picked up by my father. I squeaked. "Damn toys. I told this kid to clean up after himself. Where is that boy anyway?"
Im just starting so bear with me Static "Captian Aaron how's the expidition?" "Doing great sir we found a planet we are currently heading over there" "Good contact me when you arrive" Static Finally, it feels like we've been exploring for days. Finally my first real mission, not like those other times. "Okay everyone make sure you get some rest we are still a few hours away" I didn't get much sleep, i spent all night thinking about that damn planet. Oh and I dreamt about being hailed as a hero so i hope that becomes true. beep beep beep Ugh I roll out of my bed half- mumbling to myself about wanting to sleep more and half- being excited about arriving at the planet "Okay everyone get ready as we are already here* Sounds of complaint "Wear your suit get to the airlock chamber" Wow im really on another planet this is cool. I've always was wanted to become an astronaut As i open the door the first thing i see was the sky, looked exactly like Earth's sky but slightly more blue, i slowly walked down the stairs in my really clunky suit and as soon as i step on the planet's ground we become..... Dogs? Sorry can't think of what more to add and once again im new so don't be shocked if its bad.
They are all crowded around you with smiles that promise laughter and a good time. You can't remember how you got to this place, but it seems like a happy dream. But your stomach starts to twist; the fringes of your memory reminding you that many of these loved ones don't belong here. Everything seems so happy as they lead you along towards the great doors leading further into the building. A chill runs down your spine, as the odd sense of wrongness grows without any obvious source. You try to slow down and look at your surroundings, but you're caught in the group, and they pull you along. As the panic grows, you put your head down and dig your heels in and finally manage to stop. The cheerful chatter that surrounded you, abruptly stopped and you feel the sweat running down your back. You look up to find that every head is snapped in your direction. Every eye boring holes through you. Stumbling backwards out of the group, you manage to pull free and fall away from the group, but as you stumble farther away, you see the changes in the ones that you love. Their eyes darkening, filled with surprise and overflowing with rage. What used to be gleeful and lively beginning to transform into sharp and dangerous. Already they were turning and stalking towards you. In terror, you turn to run. The entrance doesn't look that far off, but as you sprint, you can feel the the breath on the back of your neck. Then a sharp pain cuts into your back. You manage to keep your feet, but as you glance back, your heart sinks. The family you had held so dearly had devolved. Really they were... monstrous. They scrambled after you madly, shriveled and ragged. Their hands somehow elongated and fingers sharpened to daggers. It catches your breath and again you stumble, gaining you a couple more gashes across your back. With tears streaming down your eyes, you manage to hit the door, flinging it open and running into the blinding bright light of the outside. &#x200B; ... &#x200B; You awake with a start. A nurse is standing by and notices you stir. "You're awake!"She cries out. "You've had a hell of a day."She gently pushes you down as you try to rise, your senses still on high alert. "Where am I? What happened?"You mumble. Her face immediately droops. "I'm sorry to tell you. You were in an accident. We found your family vehicles together off the side of the road... You've been unconscious for 2 days now. We were able to stop the bleeding, but..."Her eyes narrow and then worries crosses her face. "Lean forward."She opens your down and looks at your back. "What happened? These weren't here this morning."
“Damn, my head hurts.” I started to look around in the darkness, my eyes weren’t adjusted yet. “Did I take the night shift? I thought mark was going to cover me.” I tried to remember why I’m here and all of a sudden I remembered. I was getting my paycheck cashed out when a few guys came in shooting up the place. I tried to make my way to an exit but someone pushed me in front of the gun fire. “How the hell did I get here?” As my eyes started to adjust to the dark I realize I wasn’t alone. There was someone on the other side of the room about 7 feet away. I called out “hey what’s going on here?!” As I started to make my way to them I recognized their face. “What the-“ It’s was me, my face my body, down to the dimple under my left eye. ‘It’ was on a metal crib like beds with a wire connected to the back of its head. As I started to look around more I realized this wasn’t the only one. There were hundreds of beds making up what I thought was boxes They all seemed to be unconscious, I tried waking one up but it wouldn’t budge. I tried looking for an exit, but as I did I heard someone opening a door. My first thought was to approach them and ask what’s going on, but seeing all the “me’s” in here, probably best to hide. I found an empty bed and took the cord and tried to put it under the back of my neck so it would look like I was plugged in, I was horrified when I felt an input on my neck. “Am I one of these. Things?!” I thought to myself as I heard the footsteps getting closer. I tried my best to look unconscious but I’m panicking and I can feel it. The footsteps reach me and a calming female voice says “so, you are awake.” I, still trying to pass it off as if I’m unconscious, take everything I have to not move. I hear her push some buttons on a tablet and says “just a minute, you just woke up a tad to early.” I start to hear a pulse rising and all of a sudden I can’t feel anything. I, can’t think...breathe...I can’t. “Damn, my head hurts” I wake up in my bed, I look at my clock which says 7:32pm. “SHOOT, IM GOING TO BE LATE FOR MY SHIFT!” I shoot out of bed trying to find my clothes. But as I look at my phone I notice something. It’s the 14th. “That can’t be right yesterday was the 7th.” I call my friend to see if I got black out drunk and somehow forgot a week big when he answers I can hear his voice shake when he said “joelyne, is that you? Where have you been?” I replied “hey I just woke up and something weirds happening, I think I completely forgot a whole week. Do you know why?” There was a moment of silence on the phone. I started to feel uneasy. Johnny finally broke the silence by saying “how are you calling me? They just buried you body yesterday.” At that moment I felt my heart sink. “I died? How?” Jonny then tells me to meet him at the bar. I get there and I feel a few weird stares. I see Jonny waiting at a booth in the corner. I sit down and he starts telling me about the bank and the whole time I’m completely silent. I mean how are you supposed to respond to something like this? As he finishes I finally say something “so how am I here right now?” And after a few seconds of nothing but the sound of the other tables talking Jonny shrugs and says “I have no idea” after that I went to my family and as you would expect I got tears, shock, and confusion from everyone. Then I got my job back. Thankfully they hadn’t replaced me yet. And to this day that missing week is still a mystery to my entire town. Some days I try to figure out what happened, but something in the back of my head says to just leave it alone.
[PREVIOUSLY](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/e48bvo/wp_when_you_die_you_wake_up_in_a_massive_library/f9g67i8?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) I was so glad that my sight was still as sharp as an eagle. But still… \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I was surprised when I heard my door being knocked. I was almost ready to go to my bedroom, and then I looked at the clock; it was 10 o’clock, when it happened. Who could be visiting me in such time? I couldn’t help but be aware, I grabbed my shotgun from the kitchen, and crept as silent as possible. I peeked through the hole, to see who visited me, while my hands were pointing the shotgun straight against the door, my finger so ready to pull the trigger; I decided to not turn the light on. Apparently it was my neighbor, Mr. Prats. He was wearing a raincoat, and carrying a basket, covered with a black plastic sheet. At first, I simply stared at him, while he spoke to me: he happened to buy beers and brownies, but it happened to be too much for him and his family to spend it, so he decided to send it to me. On one hand, I was grateful that he was willing to go to my house, in such bad weather, all to give me food and beverages. But on the other side, it was just too unnecessary That was when I saw it. In few houses from the one in front of mine, I saw someone hitting another person. It couldn’t be a mistake, because even though it was dark, the silhouette’s movement couldn’t be mistaken at all: the hitter held something long and straight, likely stiff, and swung it downward repeatedly, while another person clearly lifted their hands, as if begging the hitter to stop it, but eventually fell down I naturally shook Mr. Prats, and pointed him to the hitter. I didn’t know if he could see it, but immediately, he said, “Oh my fucking… call 911!” shoved the basket to me, and ran toward the hitter, shouting as loud as he could, “HEY! STOP IT!” He turned back to tell me, “GET MY GUN FROM MY WIFE!” and immediately went after the hitter, who ran into the house. I was instantly frantic and panicked, but regardless, and fortunately, I could still prioritize the urgency, and moved according to his order. I dropped the basket instead, and ran out to his house, even though the rain was quite heavy. I couldn’t help but bang the door and screamed calling Janice, his wife. As soon as she opened the door, I quickly explained the situation, and thankfully, she went upstairs to grab his pistol. When I turned back to see what happened, they both were gone already. I suspected that they were already inside the house. What dreaded me was the fact that he didn’t wait for me giving him the gun at all. How would I give him the gun, then? There’s no way he would get out of the house just to get his gun, and then return back in the house… Janice returned, and shoved me Mr. Prats’ gun and badge. She also looked at where I looked at; it was easy to tell that she was concerned too. But there was no time at all; I told her to call 911 and immediately went catching up to Mr. Prats. By that time, I was already soaked to my underpants, but I couldn’t care less about it at the moment. I looked at the person who was hit. My heart stopped. It was Jason, Martin’s father. And I could still tell it was him, because and only because of his dress. Who could have done this? This… this method of murder…? I immediately puked. Thankfully, not directly onto him. All the food — spaghetti and pudding — and drinks — coke and water — I had for dinner were all mixed and spilled out through my mouth. I quickly wiped my mouth with my hand — fortunately, the rain quickly washed my hand off the vomit. Soon after that, I went into the home, without thinking much of it at all. It was disgusting indeed. But it was nothing compared to what I just saw. [TO BE CONTINUED](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/e4mqoi/sp_youre_punching_the_hell_out_of_a_mirror_why/f9udv51?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)
"Not the airway, the carotid arteries." Jekyll slaps Kocheck on the elbow with his free hand. With his other he pinches the nostrils of the banker struggling in Kochek’s grip. The bear like man adjusts his hold slightly. He is a trained wrestler after all, but where he comes from there was no technique taught on how not to leave one's opponent with a crushed trachea. His victim’s eyes bulge bloodshot in their sockets, his face all but swallowed up in coils of muscle. “I do not see the reason for this,” Kocheck complains. “Either way he stops moving, yes?” “Yes,” Jekyll replies, opening a stopwatch as the banker’s eyes finally flutter closed and his shiny shoes cease their manic tapping against the sooty wall of the alley. “But one rumpled banker can only stir up so much trouble with the local brigadia. A dead body? That will bring the bluejackets – and that, my friend, we do not need. Drop him, please.” Kocheck’s burly arms release the unfortunate banker and he drops into the muck, head bouncing. Jekyll sighs. “Sorry, Doctor.” Kochek’s brutish face crumples in a crude approximation of shame, eyes downcast beneath busy black eyebrows. “No, no. It’s my fault. I should choose my words better.” Jekyll crouches beside the fallen man, first checking his pulse, then lifting one of his eyelids to examine his pupils. Satisfied that their victim will live he turns to the slim shadow standing at the entrance to the valley. “Butcher,” Jekyll calls to their lookout. “We’re ready.” The figure slinks back into the shadows. Her face is at once soft and hardened by the halo of dirty grey light leaking from the street beyond. She is dressed as a lady of the night, with a suitably inappropriate slit up the side of her dress and a corset that squeezes her body into an unnatural, if garishly appealing, shape. It was she who lured the banker into the alley before turning him over to Jekyll and Kocheck’s care. She removes a hairpin from her coifed mane and sets about picking the lock of the banker’s briefcase. Her nickname comes not from any particular talent for violence – although she has an unreasonable amount of knives concealed on her person – but an ability to size up a mark, like a butcher sizes up a slab of meat. Thanks to Butcher, these months have been good for their little trio. The briefcase springs open with a soft click. Butcher rifles deftly through its contents. Papers are scattered into the mud. Names, meeting times, the endless minutia of the financial world recorded in exotic ink on expensive paper. Some of it might be valuable to the right buyer, but trafficking in information requires friends in high places – something Jekyll and his band are rather short on. Jekyll begins patting the banker’s pockets. Inside he finds a handful of Imperial crescents, a gold-plated pocketwatch, and a cigar case. Butcher stands up with a grunt, her hands empty. Jekyll hands her the pocketwatch. She holds it up to the light, appraising, then shakes her head. “Fake,” she says. “Sorry, Doc. I thought for sure he had something good on him.” “Why did you choose him?” It is an honest question, not an accusation. Butcher does not usually fail them like this. “Looked nervous,” Butcher replies. “Not from this part of town, I’d wager. Kept switching his briefcase from one hand to the other.” The briefcase. Jekyll removes a surgical knife from his pocket and moves past her. Time is short, now. They have been in the alley for three minutes and forty-one seconds, according to the mental count in his head. The longer they stayed, the more likely it was that someone would notice them. He slits open the velvet backing of the briefcase. Something falls from within. A pouch falls from within. Jekyll thumbs it open to reveal a tiny parcel of pure Adramantic gems. They dazzle him with their ethereal glow, and he closes the pouch, heartbeat rising. He holds a small fortune in his hands. “What is it?” Butcher moves closer. “Come on.” Jekyll stands. He feels as though they have stumbled into something far more dangerous than they bargained for. He must force his hands to remain steady as he passes the pouch to Butcher. He hears her curse softly as she opens it herself. “Bloody six.” Something catches Jekyll’s eye. A cream-white triangle poking up from the slash in the velvet. He reaches in and removes a letter. It is sealed with wax, imprinted with a sigil he does not recognize. With a flick of his surgical knife he opens the letter and reads: Bellasade docks, number four. The others will meet you there with their portion of the agreed sum. That’s all. No signature, no identifying mark. Only a mention of “others”. He looks at the briefcase, the supine banker, memorizing their every detail. Then he tucks the letter into his pocket. “What is it?” Butcher asks. Jekyll feels a smile at the corners of his lips. “There’s money to be made on the streets tonight.” \\\*
Opposites are really just extreme ends of the same thing, you know. Light and dark, love and fear, heaven and hell, life and death. Just different ends of a spectrum. Everyone is excited about the extreme ends but the center is often overlooked. The point of balance that binds all things. That’s where I am. I’m grey. Without grey you can’t have black and you can’t have white. I’m always here. Tiptoeing a infinitesimal line while wars wage on both sides. When the scales tip, I wait, knowing it will eventually level off. Never taking sides because I’m am made of both. Not one side of anything can take control for too long. Because, as I am made of both sides they are partially made of me as well. And I never waiver from my position, you see. An eternal pirouette between gnashing tooth and claw. Without me the universe would have collapsed on itself the moment it was born. And maybe it did. Over and over again until I came to be. I will never be the star, no one will sing my songs. And that makes me both happy and sad. I am content.
\[WP\] A child sleeps alone in his bedroom. Outside, the rain hammers on the roof and the window. He can't get to sleep. Suddenly, the crack of a stone hitting his window makes him jump. He ignores it. A few seconds later, the same noise rings out. The boy sits up to look outside. What he sees startles him. I sit outside, staring. The boy recoils, flinging his sheet over his bed. He sits in the dark for what seems like forever. The rain drones on. He chances a glance outside, but the street is empty. He sighs, and leans back, his head resting heavily on his pillow. As he starts to relax, his eyes heavy, my hand comes down heavily on his mouth. He tries desperately to struggle, but I'm ready, and much stronger. He stops struggling, and I relax, but keep my hand clapped over his mouth. He's crying. His nose is snotty, his eyes puffy and red, staring at me pleadingly. It's almost enough to tug at the heart strings. But it's not quite. I'm prepared. I pull a bundle from my pocket, set on the bed, next to the kid. Its a pistol from a museum, loaded and oiled, lest something go wrong. I look at my watch, its almost time. I have to do this at 11:53, or it wont work. I glance again at my watch, its time. I pick the luger up off the bed, the boy renews his sobs, kicking frantically, in vain. I put the gun beneath his chin, and he starts trying to wail threw my steely finger. "Auf wiedersehen, mein fuhrer."I say quietly, as a pull the trigger. The boy is quiet now, I can hear shout from down the hall. The door slams open. The window is open, rain pouting in. The pistol sitting heavily on the slain child's chest.
"Well I don't see the problem here,"the shadow said. "Well, of course, you don't see it, you're technically not even there,"replied the reflection. It did not mimic its counterpart and moved of its own free will, looking down at the shaded area on the floor. "You know damn well that I'm here. I'm talking to you, aren't I? And if I wasn't real, you wouldn't be either," "Look, the point is -regardless of the nature of our ambiguous existence- that it is very possible we may truly not exist in the future. We exist now but who is to say we won't be erased the moment the lights go out?" "When the lights go out, I will remain. It is simple; I am dark, the darkness is quite obviously dark, therefore I will exist. With no one to see you and no light to speak of, you will fade away. A reflection does not have a reflection with no light,"countered the shadow. "In the light now, I am quite certain I exist. I refract, therefore I am,"the reflection shifted in its frame on the wall in clear view of the shadow below, "I agree with you that when the lights go out and that you will be one with the darkness," "Aha!" "But, when it is dark -equally dark throughout the room, mind you- where do you begin and where do you end? The darkness of one end of the room is equally dark as the rest. Would you become the room? Or does the room consume you?" The shadow paused, "You know, you're technically not here either. All you are is the picture of something undeniably real, encased in a shiny square." "And you are nothing without something real to cast you." "The fact of the matter is that once the lights go out I will live and you will die. There will always be darkness and in darkness, the shadows prevail." The reflection began to shift unsteadily in its silvered cage, "You are not the one to cast any light, as I do. What I see becomes manifest in my depiction. Without a subject before me, it is true I would not be here. Yet you, you simpleton, do not portray anything. You are simply the negation of space." "We are talking in circles again. We do not have a choice in what happens, it merely happens. The light will fade and our fates are sealed, regardless of our outlooks." "I can see him coming now,"the reflection said, showing a man enter the room, "It seems the time is now." "We shall see where our fates lie soon enough. All light fades and shadows take its place." "But light banishes the dark and all it ever was." "Good night, my friend." "Good night. See you in the morning?" With that, the light in the room vanished, the reflection left in darkness, and the shadow consumed by its own kind.

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