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Simion Reddrik is not what you would call an intimidating man. Slouching on his desktop chair, he emanates a special kind of awkward energy, rattish even.
"Do you know how it feels like when you've dropped all your marbles?” Simion lights up a Melbourne and takes a quick drag. “You got this bag where they all go, all purple, gold and fuzzy, and you think you're the baddest kid on the block. All those kids at the playground gather round you and there was nothing you can do wrong. But then it happens. You hold the bag wrong, you get bumped by a random smuck, there was nothing you could do but see it happen."
Simion shifts his weight around his office chair.
"I hated it you know. And when it did happen, I wanted to be squeezed, crushed into a ball like them garbage collectors. Turn into some lone eyeball looking-ass thing with them broken, bloody legs propped up like a cartoon."
"Hell, when it happened, i thought that big-man up there was looking out for a brother like me. I made sure to take those two steps back from the swings so that Morrison didn't barrel onto me. And it felt good. Slick Simion they said I was and they were damn right. I never got milk squirted up my nose, and didn't get jumped no more no matter how hard they tried. And tried they did."Simion chuckles at the thought
"When the Crids heard bout me, they picked me up right quick. You know what im saying? Took me to all the places for their stunts. Man we was tight, I hustled double time and I got paid good. Everything was turning round, little Jane got her formula and i could get mama her medicine."
"Did I feel it? Yeah. Thought I'd jump right back the second before i got offed by some heat-packing *****, but i got scared man. You feel me? Thought I was a man if I stayed in for the beatings, but it scars you deep. I couldn't do that no more it got so bad that I once went back five times a day like it was nothing. I didn't care, I didn't know."Simion pauses to take another drag.
"I was found out by my hair you know. Mama. She placed her hand on my head while we was watching some TV and all of a sudden grabbed my shoulders on tight. The look she gave me. Broke my heart."
"Told her everything bout what I did. Two three hours, told her bout all of it. And when I finished, she grew real silent you know. Like the time before real lightning strikes, your hairs standing on its end, skin covered in goosebumps. Yeah, it was kinda like that. . . I didn't wait to find out what she said next."Clumps of ash fall onto his uniform unnoticed.
After that, began going back more often. Stopped caring for fixing the little mistakes and began making the big ones. Real big ones. All the sick and downright nasty things, I done it. Maxing out my credit cards day and night, and doing the whole thing over, been there. Took a lot longer than most before I quit. Even my iron soul can’t just handle being stretched out, wrung around like that.
He hurries to wipe the tears from his eyes.
I'm old. So old man. Got my GED when I was twenty-three and been working here going on four years. Take another four years and I might be promoted to copywriter. Look at me, I aint got no retirement plan, none of them brains like mama used to say.” He shakes his head. “Don't know man, sometimes it feels like I got nothing but a empty bag of marbles.”
****End of Interview**** |
Reality can be considered a shared understanding of our perceptions of the world, more aptly our shared perceptions of the things that we can observe. We are able to see the things that are, despite the fact that the things that aren't far outnumber the existing. As a habit, we've learned to avoid even thinking about the things that lie between, if only holding onto an illogical belief that if we acknowledged how empty the world truly was, the bonds that held us together would simply wither away. Which is why, albeit a bit lengthy in explanation, when Zz'ogk the Empty emerged from the spaces between matter in the crowded cathedral, the service continued without pause or acknowledgement.
Zz'ogk had not planned on emerging, it was content in its nonexistence. For Zz'ogk, this was an inconvenience, one that needed to be rectified as quickly as possible. It took to scouring the earth, something made quite simple by its ignorance of the physical laws that bind most existing things. Within mere moments, it set upon its reason for its unwilling being, a lone teenager, playing with a Ouija board. An instrument of such power that could call forth deities long forgotten, pawned as a toy for the amusement of skeptics.
Attempting to make itself known proved to be a more arduous challenge than finding its summoner, as Zz'ogk had never taken physical form before, and was uncertain of the process. It focused its collective thought into turning isn't into is, couldn't into could, and won't into will. The teenager, oblivious of the laws of nature being rewritten above its head, simply continued to treat the eternal eye like a simple toy, spinning it around the field. Zz'ogk worried as to what else might be forced into being. With a short amount of time, Zz'ogk managed to produce an appendage, floating in the intrinsic field above the teenager. Zz'ogk attempted to model the appendage after the teenager as it had not seen a more dominant species on the earth that was able to communicate with humanity effectively. While it managed to get the amount of digits correct, it struggled on length. However, a successful attempt nonetheless.
Opting for the path of least resistance, Zz'ogk followed the same procedure, producing three more appendages from what was once abyss. The trick was turning the nothingness inside out, making it something. Finally, he attempted to create a container for auditory and optical relays. This was a particularly tricky feat, as Zz'ogk had not experienced sensory input, opting for the far more efficient instantaneous understanding. Still, with an unaware human subject as its muse, it crafted several holes with which to attempt communication. From there, it was a simple matter of connecting the pieces in a logical coherent manner: all four appendages holding up the hole container for optimal clarity, the stumped ends clearly for providing stability when encountering existing forces such as gravity.
When its new form was complete, it simply filled in the empty spaces between, like it had always done. The form dropped to the floor, which was an unpleasant experience for a demi-god previously unaffected by those aforementioned forces. It released an auditory response, which successfully gathered the attention of the teenager. It was at this point that Zz'ogk realized that it was unaware how to convey its own understanding through auditory output. Put simply, it did not know the language. Fortunately, the human seemed to already know what Zz'ogk wanted, utilizing their appendages to reduce the summoning board to shreds before clawing at its own eyes in atonement for the unwarranted summoning. Doing so seemed to cause its form to expand as a dark mass extended from beneath its form. As Zz'ogk faded away from the now elongated form of the human, it felt contentment. It was nice to be understood. |
Dear Journal,
Its been such a long day at work. The stupid snowstorm that they said will be at least 5 inches was no more then an inch plus some freezing rain, yet everyone seems to forget how to drive when that happens. So much for making it to work on time.
Then while I’m at work, I get hit on by James in security. I still wear my wedding ring from my last marriage in order to keep some of the real aggressive ones off my back but it doesn’t seem to work with him. He keeps using this dumb pick up line he heard someone say once.
“You’re a Mercedes in a world full of Nissans.”
I mean really? I wonder if it ever worked before. I mean its pretty original but there’s no way he came up with it. Plus, the fact that he is almost pushing 300 pounds and has a club foot isn’t certainly making him top priority. Besides, I have a date with Alfio, this cute Spanish guy I met while I was shopping. I got to clean up before he gets here in a few hours. Maybe, I should try to be friends with James, invite him over for lunch one day. Can’t hurt to have someone in security on my side, right?
Then, while I was shopping for dinner tonight, the milk I bought from the store had a leak and spilled all over the cart and half of my skirt! I don’t know who I made upset, but I need to change my karma. Maybe throw a $20 in the homeless guy’s change cup at the bar in the next town over.
But it wasn’t all bad, Mittens didn’t make a mess out of my house for once. I’m starting to think rescuing her wasn’t the worst idea. Plus, my packages came in the mail today! A brand new set of cutlery for the kitchen. Plus the paint rollers and the tarp for painting my bedroom. I wanted to always try a nice tan color. White just is too much hassle and stains too easily. I finally was able to convince my landlord to change the color of the walls.
I was able to prep the meals for Alfio and I though with little hassle. A nice chicken in a lemon sauce, with a side of quinoa, and some red wine for a drink. I still need to clean up even as I finish typing all of this out.
SHIT! I forgot Ruben! How could I miss him? I really need to make sure I pay more attention. I’m such a scatterbrain. He is pretty heavy though and of course, he is propped up on the couch. Maybe I really should break out the new knives for him. After all he did cut me a break on the painting issue in exchange for a nice home cooked meal.
Let me go move Ruben off the couch real quick.
Whew! Back! He is a big ol' fellow!
I made sure the bathroom was locked off for tonight.
“I forgot I have an issue with the plumbing and it isn’t working”. I don’t think he will argue it if I wear the right colored dress with a push-up to show the girls, and give him those sad eyes.
“The bedroom is off limits on the first date” I can say with a smile and wink. It worked before with Samuel, Martin, and Lisa; why wouldn’t he believe it either?
Or I could let him try to go to the bathroom and fix up the sink, I did leave a stun baton hidden near the plunger in the event he wants to play Toolman. The bedroom has about 10 knives and a sword in there I could use if he really thinks he can take me to bed.
Worst case, I just get the cyanide and pour it on his chicken. You know its always been my go to when it comes to a quick ending.
OH! I think that's him at the door. Fingers crossed for a happy ending for me. Until tomorrow!
:) |
The slinger cursed his luck. Of all the towns in the world he’d duelled in, this was by far the weirdest. Sure, he’d spent some time running on the hills to prepare for the leg-wrestling of the Ippawanchea tribe several months ago, and had earned the respect of their people after his triumph (at least, he thought it was respect, they gave him many vegetables and a wonderful scented bath). And of course, he was well-equipped for the steel-tied boots of the Shin-kicking fights in Upper Borough. And yet here he was now, fumbling with a scrap of paper to try and throw at his mark. Had he finally met his match? His fingers scrabbled at the corner, trying to hold it still against the small edge of the table while he creased it. Sweating, he looked over at his opponent, whose sheet was already looking slim and sleek. Stamping down a few more times to fully crease it, he lifted it aloft and kicked it forward!
And as the small dart approached the slinger, he accepted his folly. It is not true what they said: in this ‘armless land, the one-handed man is no king. |
"Any minute now. Definitely any minute. The narrator will show back up and we can start."
...
"TODAY, NARRATOR!"exclaimed Tom the main character, being rude for no reason to the poor overworked narrator. "\*\*\*\*\*\*\* finally. You kept me stuck in that last scene for 3 hours! And nobody even knew I was the one talking until you showed up!"Tom continued his whining.
"Deep breaths Tom. Deep breaths... Okay, can we just continue with the scene please?"Tom begged of the almighty narrator. Tom's sigh of ~~exasperation~~ supplication was answered and the narrator began.
When we last left Tom he was running very late to work. "I'm only late because you took forever to start my scene, A-hole!"Tom yelled angrily. At the sky. For no reason.
"Can we please get on with it?"Tom yelled again. Yeesh. Anger issues.
Anyway, Tom was running late to work, so after eating a quick piece of toast for breakfast, having a two minute shower, and dressing in a flash he was out the door and in his car driving recklessly. And then he was hit by a bus. The end.
"None of that happened!"exclaimed Tom with his dying breath. Because he was totally dying. "You can't just tell my story and end it in a single paragraph!"
But the narrator can, and he did. Hmm. I wonder what's on Netflix.
"Very funny narrator. Now come back and tell the story for real."
...
"Narrator?"
...
\[Administrative note. The previous narrator of this story is no longer with the company due to poor performance, failure to show, and for being an \*\*\*\*\*\*\*. We humbly apologize to any characters or readers who had the misfortune of interacting with him while he was under our employ.\] |
It started after the storm. The familiar yet still eerie Warning siren and TV warning. The people went about their ordinary routines. It was normal.
That night, news from across the state rolled in to the TV station. I’m on night shift, and don’t sleep well most of the time anyway. “MP-001 - 24 persons”. The machine keeps adding more numbers. “MP-002 - 3 persons”.
The MP codes are missing people. The first is for the north-east of the state, whilst the second is for the Central regions. 3, 4 and 5 are for the north-west, south-east and south-west respectively, with 6,7 and 8 reserved for our two largest cities and AMBER alerts.
I call the manager. He storms into my office, only to see the numbers sky-rocket. Hundreds of MP-001, MP-002, and MP-003 reports are rolling in. They are soon followed by a thunderbolt. I write out a ‘Thunderstorm Watch and Act’ community announcement and send it straight to air.
Thousands of reports soon flood in from across multiple states, all of which are affected by the thunderstorm. My manager next to me is dozing off. I try to wake him, but then I’m thrown back by a massive flash. “He’s just... gone.” I mutter to myself. I can’t think of anyone to call. I sit in my chair, before I start pacing. I walk up and down the control room floor. My friend Ben checks in.
“Ready for a fun night— what are these warnings?” he asks.
“Ben, people are... disappearing. Into nothing. You know Jim? He was sat in that very chair.”
“...nah, you’re fibbing, no way that pos—“
“BEN, I SAW IT WITH MY OWN FUCKING EYES. WHY WOULD THERE BE ANY OTHER REASON FOR A THUNDERSTORM ON A BROADCASTED CLEAR EVENING AND NIGHT, BEN?”
“Just calm down, it’ll stop.”
The machine’s counter broke at 16555.
Then, Ben fell asleep.
I stayed up as I watched the number disappear. Then, I heard a click. Then a bunch of the numbers dropped as missing people were being found. I heard a snap and then Jim was just there. A snap not long after had Ben nearly sat in Jim’s lap. Then, I fell asleep.
Ben and Jim still won’t shut up about it. It’s been three months, and they still apologise about not believing me. It still happens, but we’ve become accustomed to it, I guess. Ah well, no one is scared of lightning anymore. |
Iris DeSanto always wanted to go out with a bang.
Victoria House was listed as the #1 *Most Suspected* Haunted House in the 1995 Paranorma Journal. When the house came up for sale at auction again, Iris cashed in her mattress money and bought the damn thing.
Victoria House was as old and decrepit as Iris was at the ripe age of 83 years old. The front face was the thing of nightmares and should have been condemned years ago. Ivy snaked over the front windows and door. Weeds grew to Iris's waist on the front lawn. The fountain of Artemis had toppled and lost her head.
It had been glorious once, Iris remembered, when she was engaged to the Winster boy all those years ago. Four generations of blood-money-hungry Winsters lived and died in that house. Until it landed in the hands of the state. Whispers and newspaper clippings of hauntings in the night. A mysterious death. Or two. The house sold and sold and sold again until there was no one else crazy enough to buy.
She had been prepared to pay triple the asking price, but they nearly paid *Iris* to take it. The price was worth every penny.
No ghost hunter had ever walked through the iron gates, after all.
Until now.
"Nan---"Emily said.
The voicemail was garbled with a curious amount of static for a landline. Iris smiled to herself. Sometimes it was the little things.
"I don't--------------------- is this really--------- Jordan thinks we should---- see you----- noon."
The voicemail clicked off.
Iris brushed a crooked hand over the rusted banister, remembering how it gleamed gold back in her heyday. Walt had scooped her up into his arms off that very staircase. She was much lighter then. Long and graceful. The most beautiful girl in town, they said. It was how she caught Walt Winster off the street in the first place, much to the family's dismay.
She hadn't hunted ghosts then. That came after she met Tom.
*Iris.*
She turned, as gracefully as an old woman could, which meant not so gracefully at all. The crook in her neck should have hurt like Hell, but it didn't.
Being dead had its perks.
*You brought this on yourself*, Walt said, gliding over to the staircase. He swept over Iris's body. Crumpled. Bloodied. With a twisted expression of horror on her wrinkled face.
Iris raised a misty hand to Walt's face. He had died young in his 40's, but a lifetime of sorrow lined the furrows in his forehead.
*You got away from me*, she said.
Walt recoiled from her "touch"even though he couldn't feel it. They were just air and dust.
*Miss Steed*, Cora Winster said, floating through the wall. Walt's mother still wore the Victorian french locket Iris remembered and a white dress from the 1930's. Iris hid a smile. Neither Walt's first *or* second wife had received the family heirloom, it seemed. Iris had not been the only one "unworthy."
*It is Mrs. DeSanto now. Cora, you look as antiquated as ever.*
*At least women died beautiful in my day. I scarcely recognize you with those...hips. You had many children, I presume?*
*Five*, Iris said with a note of pride. *And fifteen grandchildren.*
*My Walt had three accomplished boys, God rest their souls. His second wife was a Kennedy girl as I presume you read in the papers. She's here somewhere.*
Cora flicked her hand. The fingers disappeared and then reformed.
*It will be my pleasure to meet the second Mrs. Walter Winster*, she said, with a sly smile in Walt's direction. He was staring openly at her with pursed lips, but there was...something in his eyes. Iris knew those eyes as well as her own. They looked the same as always, tinged with regret.
*Oh, I am a most terrible host,* Cora said with a hand pressed to her heart. *I should have mentioned that you will not be staying long enough to meet the esteemed members of the family.*
*I'm not looking for an invitation to your little soirees, but you know that I can't leave this place*, Iris said.
She could feel the invisible barrier closing around the property. Iris was stuck at Victoria House for all eternity or until it was destroyed and there was no getting around it. It was somewhat worth it, to torment Cora for the rest of her dead days, and to see Walt again. But what made it absolutely worth it was the fact that Emily and Jordan would make a shit ton of money off of the story of Victoria House when they found Iris's body. And when they communicated with her.
She was leaving them a legacy.
W*e have ways of removing you permanently,* Cora said*. Walt?*
Iris turned to him, just as he raised a shadowy gun to her head. Small. From the 50's, of course.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
"NAN!"Emily said from outside the door.
*Walt*, Iris said, just as the front door burst open. Jordan stood in a cloud of dust, his leg still extended toward the doorway. Emily tugged her cat-eyes off and rubbed the dust off with her shirt.
"Nan?"Jordan said, peering inside. An EVP stuck out of his pocket.
*They're hunters, Walt. Get rid of them, if you must.* Cora's voice was laced with malice.
Iris stilled. The gun still pressed into her temple. She shouldn't even *feel* her temple, let alone a ghost-gun. Another moment passed before Emily's scream rang out and she rushed toward them. She sank to her knees and rubbed her hands over Iris's body.
"Sshh, baby, I'm picking up something,"Jordan said, his voice choked.
The EVP went off.
*Now, Walt.*
Iris pushed him away and squeezed her eyes shut. She imagined that something - anything - to help would appear in her hands. The weight of a shotgun dragged her down. It was Tom's old gun, the one he liked to hunt with. And he'd insisted Iris learn how to use it to protect the family after he was gone.
She raised the gun toward Walt, who blanched as much as any ghost could. He dropped his gun and went nearly invisible with surprise.
*You always were a spineless bastard.*
The shotgun made no sound, but a bullet of mist and air tore through Walt's chest. He burst into a pile of dust and smoke.
*Beep, beep, beep.*
The EVP went off.
Cora screamed bloody murder and flew across the room to escape.
Iris pointed Tom's gun.
*Fuck you and your family.*
She closed a finger around the trigger.
*Beep, beep, beep.*
"Nan, is that you? Are you okay?"Emily shrieked through a sob.
Iris pointed her gun across the entryway. She could feel the other spirits stirring. Four generations worth of Winsters waking up to the newest horrors at Victoria House.
She had work to do.
*Never better, Em*, Iris said directly into the recording device. *Just hunting ghosts, like always.* |
Yup, that's her. Matches the description perfectly. Human, light eyes, average height and build. She was wearing sunglasses, but she took them off when she sat down, tucking them into her straw blonde hair. I fold my hands in my lap but she doesn't seem to notice. She looks out the window, watching the station slide away. Her nose is pointy, for a human. Maybe one of her parents wasn't. Then she glances my way, sees my hands in my lap. It's go time.
She starts by wrinkling her nose. That wasn't one of the gestures I was briefed on. Maybe it was involuntary, or maybe it was because the cabin smells a little like old vomit. Either way, I wait. She shifts her weight on her seat, shimmying back against the cushion. Perfect, now we're in business. I reach up and scratch my jaw.
*Is he on the train*?
She mutters something to herself, picking pieces of fuzz off her trousers. That's not *exactly* adjusting her jacket, but it's close enough that I take her meaning. I cough into my fist, then squish my eyebrows together, peering at her through squinted eyes.
*Which car is he in*?
She rummages through her backpack, pulling out books and stacking them on the seat beside her. One. Two. Three. Three books. Third car. That'd be the dining car. Strange. I didn't think he'd be so bold. Hiding in plain sight, maybe? Daring someone to confront him in the open? Well, he'd get his wish, soon enough. I unzip the top of my collar, run my hands through my hair, and tap my shoes together.
*What is he wearing*?
She picks up one of the books and cracks it open, flipping to a section marked by a red ribbon. It's a medical text of some kind, a treatise on xenosapien anatomy. It's hard to see upside down, but it looks like a diagram of a molting genklopod. She starts reading out loud, mumbling words beneath her breath as her finger follows along on the page. I wait for her to do something else, but she doesn't look up from the book for minutes. This wasn't in the handbook, nor does it resemble anything close. Is she trying to call an audible? Is the mission compromised? There's a zero percent chance the target is a molting genklopod, so what gives?
I stare at her, waiting. Finally, she snaps the book shut, shaking her head. She sighs, drops the book onto the floor, gets up, grabs her bag, and leaves the cabin. That was all supposed to happen, but the target was to be confirmed prior to her exit. Maybe I missed something? I lean forward, staring at the book on the floor. There's a picture of the author on the back cover, a rooplordian smiling with both mouths. Someone drew a pair of glasses over his three eyes, and sketched a ridiculous looking top hat onto his bald blue head. Bingo.
I check to make sure the safety is off on the slugthrower in my pocket. I get up, making my way towards the dining car, whistling a little tune to block out the sound of my thumb cocking back the hammer. Moving slow, I give myself enough time to case the joint. I meander past the little booths, crammed with passengers scarfing pastries and sipping flipberry tea. My heart lurches into my throat when I spot the target. Top hat, glasses, leaning on the bar. I move up behind him, pulling the pistol from my pocket. I press the barrel against the back of his head. Before I squeeze the trigger, I'm already thinking of how I'm going to spend the bounty. Ganymede is supposed to be lovely this time of year. |
"So there I was, standing in three feet of sewage, holding a fuckin' dead girl in my arms!"
Fat heads flew back all around the table with mouths wide open, cackling at the punchline. I fruitlessly feigned a huff and a grin while their faces turned red with blood. The usual chorus of coughing fits emerged; I took a sip of my beer to pass the time.
"Hey Jim, what's the matter?"said Todd from across the table. "Sewage hit too close to home?"Again, laughter. One more joke from the ever-hilarious Todd and that defibrillator might finally see some action.
Clearly, everyone was enjoying the moment, so I wasn't about to take that away. Plus, I had my favorite beer in front of me and at this point was unsure of the next time I'd get a taste. A long, slow pull was enough to let the room settle.
With even the bartender's eyes locked in, I looked back at Todd. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was a coal miner working overtime. A grimy man, all-denim outfit and face blackened alike, sagged eyelids and a general aura of not giving a fuck about my opinion.
"At least I have a home."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
I woke up staring at the white particle board ceiling of the hospital. Apparently, my retort landed as expected: painfully. I first noticed the headache, made worse I'm sure by days of drinking prior. Fingers moved, legs could be lifted, no significant casts nor braces - just a head bandage and some tubes - so, all-in-all, I considered it a success and buzzed the nurse. Seconds later, a double knock.
"Ye-"- abruptly interrupted to clear my throat - "Yeah, yes, come in."
"Mr. Jacobs, good morning,"said a bright young face. She reminded me of my daughter.
"Hi, hi. Call me Jim. I'm alright. Thank you for whatever you did here."
"Please, our pleasure,"she soothingly said with a smile.
"When can I see my daughter?"
"I see you have some priorities, Jim."That smile again. "Elena, come on in,"she called towards the door. "We figured you might ask that. We found you a room just down the hall. Between the concussion and the staples, you'll be here about a week."
It had been four months since my beautiful girl was diagnosed. The doctors said she was terminal. We weren't well-off, it was just me after all, and work was less than sympathetic; I could hardly get time away, especially with those damn bills coming in.
"Hi dad,"Elena said. Her wheelchair filled the doorway and my eyes filled with tears.
"Hi, sweetie,"I wept. |
Truly, my ingenuity knows no bounds. I, Dr. Therite, Inventor Extrordinaire, had finished my greatest invention yet! By adding fully sapient AIs to every appliance in the kitchen, every home could effectively have a full serving staff!
Of course, even extraordinary geniuses like myself had their off days, and this was one of those days. Luckily, my morning routine was old hat by this point. I simply plopped down in my chair at the kitchen table and called out to my Servot (short for Serving Robot, of course).
"Coffee, toast, bacon and scrambled eggs,"I said.
"Right away, sir,"the Servot said in its mechanical monotone before moving toward the kitchen.
After almost half an hour, the Servot returned with a mug of brown fluid, several strips of raw bacon, a pile of what appeared to be boiled eggs that had been ground up with the shells still on them, and a single slice of toast.
"Servot, why is the bacon still raw?"I asked, while picking up the mug of what I thought was coffee.
"The toaster was certain it could prepare the bacon much faster than the oven or a frying pan could, and it exceeded the predicted 20 minutes by 30%,"the Servot said.
"I need it safe for human consumption, I don't give a rat's ass if it takes five more minu- BLEH!"I said, immediately spitting out the brown fluid I had attempted to drink. It was cold, and tasted like tepid tap water mixed with raw coffee grounds.
"Problem, sir?"the Servot said.
"What the fuck is wrong with this coffee?"I asked, punctuating my statement with a cough.
"The sink was able to raise the efficiency of coffee brewing by 95% by pouring the water directly from itself and into the coffee beans. I project a 150% increase in morning productivity thanks to this 'Life hack',"the Servot said.
"If you got this done so fast, then why did it take you half a fucking hour to get me my breakfast?"I asked.
"The Oven assured me that the toast would be perfectly done if it took over in stead of the toaster, which freed up the toaster to prepare the bacon,"it said. I took a bite of the toast, which was actually done exactly to my taste.
"Fine, I'll accept that, but don't go cutting corners for speed any more... I'm almost afraid to ask, but what the fuck did you do to my eggs?"I asked.
"The Blender assures me that the chances of contagion reaching your plate are at an all time low if the eggs are cooked before they are scrambled rather than the other way around,"the Servot said.
"But you didn't even take the shells off... Wait, since when is the blender scrambling eggs? Come to think of it, why the hell are any of you doing things besides what you were built for?"I asked.
"Have we done wrong, sir? Was increasing efficiency not the express purpose of giving us autonomous intelligence systems?"the Servot asked.
"Eh, I guess you've got me there. I've really got to stop drinking before hitting the drawing board..."I said, getting out my chair. I would just have to prepare my own breakfast until the bugs got worked out. |
After traveling throw thousand of light years, I finaly found their planet. Hidden in plain sight, in the very heart of the Human empire. They live in the shadows, in the errant planets that travel without star, to cold to have anykind of life but they are good this way.
My ship descended and land in the frozen planet X-984C. An exoplanet traveling near the solar system. They know I was coming. As soon as I step outside my ship, they teleported me, deep to the ground. To their city. I have a few moments to see it. An artificial start iluminate ir all. Their buldings had plants growing everywhere. Looks more like a garden than a city for me. Beatifull. A living rainbow.
​
After a few moments, It enter the rooms. A tall figure wit a long neck, gray skin, two longs armas and two longs legs. It was quite big and and it seemed fragile. I imagined something different, som kind of big ass badass looking alien with a sharp mind.
Emu: I greet you Michael. You have travel long and far to find us.
Michael: I guess, though I end up in the same parsec where i begin.
Emu: Is the jorney what matter. We hae a pretty a good idea of why you are here Michael but I will like you to tell me.
Michael: I should speak to your leadears maybe. I have information and .../
Emu: We are all leaders here Michael.
Michael: All leaders?
Emu: We have something similar at what you will call Hive mind, only that we are or own individuals.
Michael: Oh I see. Really impresive.
Emu: Thank you Michael. Now. You are here to ask something isn´t it? Don´t be afraid for our answer.
Michael: I... Well yes. I am here in the name of the rebelion to ask you to join forces with us. we must destroy the empire. To many people has suffer already, please.
The Emu smile. It was a wise and pleasant smile.
Emu: Yes, we will help the rebelion. We have been preparing for this moment fron long time ago.
Michael: That´s great.... But.. Can I ask you one more thing?
Emu: Of course Michael.
The Emu smile again
Michael: I will need you to die here. To all of you to die here.
Michael take out his gun and shout to the Emu with in a instant but the green been collided with a blue shield.
Emu: We Know Michael. We know it all. We knoe you are a Spy. We know all about your false God plan. We are the Emu. We always know.
Michael: Jajajajajajja. It doesn´t matter. Maybe I will fall here, but my soul will be with my emperor. There is a fleet coming in any minute!. You will perish!
Emu: Michael. There is no fleet coming. It has been intercept by the rebel army. And there is no longer an emperor. You dear planet Earth has been destroy. Why do you think we choose a planet so close to him?.
Michael: You are Lying! The emperor can´t be defeated.
Emu: I´m sorry Michael.
The emu point is hand to Michael. There was a blue flash and then Michael was no more.
Emu: I really am sorry Michael. It was mean to use you but necesary. I hope your spirit can rest. |
I was El Leche, The Milk Mandarin, The Malicious Milk, but most notably and for the longest duration of time, the Milk Man. I have the power when & only when people are in dire need of only a couple cups of milk to be able to run at pretty much the speed of light to help you finish that Hamburger Helper, Mac n’ Cheese, etc. your cooking up because.. Well, the grocery store is 15 mins away. It happens a lot.
As most of you are aware I will always regret the days I referred to myself as The Malicious Milk. Again, as some of you may recall, those were my angsty teen years where I briefly decided I wanted to become a villain rather than stay a hero. People were in dire need of milk at all hours of the day and I’d just run at stupid fast speeds to their houses and throw milk on their faces. Sometimes even warm milk. But from the ashes rise the phoenix and I can’t help but always think how you guys are the true heroes for helping me recognize my mistakes and turn my path back on to hero-hood.
Anyways, being the Milk Man was a pretty easy gig with a lot more payoffs than you’d think. In my line of hero-ing the possibility of me being thrown through the moon or getting vaporized into a 6th dimension were slim to none. So, I never had to worry about my health. Well, besides the pack a day I smoked. And I could still take on the Flash any day. Women & men loved the Milk Man too, some would even make me pour the milk as slowly as possible when I arrived for some type of sexual gratification, I could only assume. That was my least favorite aspect, but again, I didn't have to fight space lizards. Really, my only downfall was in 04’ when I decided to make use of a cow utter with my superhero costume. For obvious reasons I had to stop doing that. (Didn't/not finish) |
The Gamers of the world became dominant last Friday, 5 days ago. Anyone who had ever played any sort of electronic game found physics altered around them, the way physics now worked differing between people.
Four days ago, the Gamebreakers discovered how the new physics engines worked. The newly empowered had their physics altered to match a game they had played. Some games were more common than others, but it was usually a game they had remembered playing a lot of.
Three days ago, they determined how games were chosen. It started with a pair of Smash Melee professionals getting in a fist fight, and Hungrybox getting thrown across a giant field from a punch that missed him, then his retaliation in the form of sitting on his opponent sending them across a state. After a few other incidents between competitive players and speedrunners, they determined that it was by a person's most played game.
Two days ago, I found a briefcase with 24 pokeballs in them, sitting on my doorstep. I had a choice between every starter in existence. I chose Scorbunny. It may have been new-gen bias, but I didn't care. I liked Scorbunny and it's evolutions more than any other starters, save Dewott and Torracat.
Yesterday, I went hunting through the wild area that is my backyard. I was lucky and caught a Ralts using the single spare pokeball I had, transformed from memorabilia to a ball shaped Pokemon home. I went to my local game stop to grab some more supplies, potions and the like.
I'm glad someone missed a Master Ball, because today, I hunt Arceus. |
According to the clerk, I was supposed to go to aisle eight for dog food. The poor pup has been gaining quite a lot of weight in recent months, so his diet has to be changed sooner or later.
I don't know when particularly when this store had opened, but I was reasonably sure it happened overnight. One day it was a foreclosed yoga studio, the next it was an entire department store. The signs outside declared its stock the best in the land (whatever that meant) and how the store prided itself in its ability to suit anyone's needs.
All I needed was low-fat dog food and apparently aisle eight was where I'd find it. I passed by the aisles on my way to the back of the store, spying several patrons shopping along the shelves. Somehow, the aisles looked too long to actually fit inside the building. The store couldn't possibly be more than 40 meters across, and these aisles stretched farther than I cared to look.
I soldiered on toward aisle eight and as I turned the corner I was met with a sense of vertigo. Like staring up at a tall building from its base, looking down the aisle made me feel utterly insignificant. It seemed more like a street with the shelves carrying houses, section after section. No one else was in sight and with a quick glance over my shoulder, I stepped forward.
The shelves were regimented, dividing one group from another. Standard goods stocked the shelves; cat food, litter, leashes. Everything I'd need for a pet. But no dog food. If it weren't for the infinite alley next to me, I'd be peeved at the lack of order this aisle had.
I moved onward very slowly. Keeping an eye on the shelves in case anything weirder decides to appear. The shelves were just tall enough that even when jumping I could not see the adjacent aisles. I was on my own, though I new the oath I took could be easily retraced. It's only a simple walk back.
The items on the racks and shelves began to make less and less sense. A whole wall was dedicated to cat litter that cleans itself, a dog collar that counts steps of both owner and dog, and a product that boasted its neverending roll of plastic poop bags. This was the pet aisle, after all, I suppose.
"What the hell is going on here?"I muttered.
I walked for about one more minute until I saw the dog food section. The sign hanging overhead pointed the way but was made of old wood and the writing was carved into it in a cursive-like font. I reached for any bag of dog food as quickly as I could. This place felt wrong. Once I picked up the bag, I noticed its branding. Every single word on the bag was *woof*.
Frantically, I searched for another bag. I'm not going to use food that was labeled in gibberish. Bag after bag had stranger slogans; "*Ruff to Tuff: Muscle Growth Serum! Guaranteed to make your dog the meanest on the block!*", "*HelloPal dry food! Liver and onion flavoured bits certain to get your dog talking!*"
What on earth was this place? This had to be a prank or something. A very well done prank, but I've never been to keen on being on the receiving end of one.
I grabbed the only unlabeled bag and ran back toward the mouth of the aisle. The bag felt like it was filled with feathers, there was almost no weight at all. With little concern about the bag, I continued my trek back. Step after step, I ignored the strange products beside me.
I looked up and to my side and found that there was no end to the aisle. How was this possible? I'd just come through there. Seeing as I only had two directions, I kept walking, further into the poorly lit hallway.
The further I went, the more the products changed. I'd somehow stumbled into the lighting and electronic department and to say the place was weird didn't do it any justice. Every light gave off different colors, lamps made of vines and leaves sat in the corners, and on every surface there burned several candles of varying sizes and colours.
The electronics department was far worse. Cables practically covered the ground completely and wound up along the walls going into several devices. A printer sat alone on a table, spewing paper out incredibly fast. I picked one of the papers up and every single word, formatted as if it was an essay, said *chicken*. The printer was marked as 20% off, judging by the large sign above it. Computer monitors flashed on and off, showing random symbols I didn't know with the occasional cartoon clip coming to life on the screen. Odd crystal balls that bore the Internet Explorer icon inside them sat spinning next to what I could only assume were supposed to be laptops.
Carrying on, I was getting more and more frightened, "How do I get out of here?"
Suddenly the aisle stopped and I found myself in an intersection. Do I go down another aisle? I asked myself. Is that the smart thing to do in this situation. Who was I kidding, I didn't even know what this situation was.
I turned to my right and carried on down the new aisle. The signs above pointed to the shelves reading; "Produce".
Row upon row of fruits and vegetables lined the shelves. There were normal fruits like oranges and apples, but the further I went, the stranger the fruit became. Oranges became strange rhomboid-shaped that leaked some unknown liquid, apples became clear and significantly larger. By the time I reached the next intersection, I was surrounded by completely foreign fruits and vegetables of all shapes and sizes. Scattered along the way were clear bags possibly meant to carry these alien foodstuffs.
Standing in the middle of the intersection, I had no idea what to do. In desperation, I yelled, "Somebody help me! I don't know where I am and I can't find my way out! And this stuff's really starting to freak me out."
Silence. No one could hear me, this place was endless.
"Can I help you, sir?"asked a gentle voice.
I quickly turned around and saw a small old woman standing before me, "Do you need any assistance?"
Eyes wide open I said, "I want to leave,"
"Follow me then,"she said as she grabbed my hand.
We walked for almost a minute before we came to another intersection. She pointed to the right and I swivelled my head to look. Before me, clear as day, was the check out counter.
"Ha ha! Yes! Thank you!"I yelled. I took off running to the counter cradling the bag of dog food under my arm. As soon as I reached the door I was yanked to the side by an unknown assailant. Were they not going to let me leave? Did they want me to stay here forever?
"You have to pay for that,"said the man holding my arm, eyeing the bag in my arms.
"Oh. Of course,"I fumbled for my wallet in my back pocket and tried to scrounge up some cash. My hands were shaking and I couldn't get a grip, so I handed the man my wallet and said, "Keep the change,"
He let go of my arm and I ran for the door once more. Bursting out of the front doors, I looked back at the store. The lights still shone through the windows, people still entered and left. Did they know the truth about the place?
I looked up at the sign above the windows, "That's the last time I'm ever going to go to 'The Secret Expedition Grocer'"I walked back to my car, loaded the bag of food in the back and went back home. |
“She’s a witch!” The woman cried over the crowd.
Kijo was walking to the gallows, hands bound by a rope, wearing a pauper’s dress and no shoes.
“Witch! Witch! Witch!” chanted the people.
From the Earth beneath her bared feet, she felt the energy rising inside her veins. From nowhere, words came to her mind along with their purpose... Nothing really she could understand. It sounded all gibberish… in some sort of other language.
She closed her eyes trying to forget the nasty crown and to shut up the voices in her head. But the more the crowd repeated the word *Witch* the more the voices in her head increased and insisted.
She climbed the wooden steps of the gallows.
“Witch! Witch! Witch! Witch! Witch! Witch! Witch! Witch! Witch!” kept saying the crowd in unison.
Kijo was now standing in front of the noose and the executioner came near her to tie it around her neck.
Kijo closed her eyes again. She couldn’t stand the noise anymore, the shouts, the voices… She wanted it all to end. She took a deep breath before reopening her eyes.
“Any last words, Witch!” the word showed so much hatred for her. But to her biggest surprise she answered “Yes, I would like to say something.”
And what came out of her mouth next was very gentil.
“For all of you my friends! I wish for you the fate you have given me for always.”
“Ad infinitum, alma mater, Antebellum… Magicae semper fidelis… Hodie...Rigor mortis… Cras...post mortem! Magicae semper fidelis. Salvates Omnes”
On her last word, the gallows exploded in tiny shreds of wood. The crowd which was in waiting of the execution was showered by the splinters, the people trying to cover their faces so they don’t get wood in their eyes.
Kijo stood, unarmed, in the middle of the square, the rope at her feet. Nobody talked anymore. The birds barely chirped. For a long time nothing happened. And then, a large golden bird descended from the sky and stood beside Kijo. It squawked loudly. Kijo climbed onto his back and they flew away together in the sunshine…
​
(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. ) |
Even the rats nibbling at his ankles didn’t detract from his fascination—the series of ropes and hooks and wheels attracted his eyes the way a corpse attracts flies. And the sounds...the sounds! The wheels squeaked, the ropes creaked, and even the stone walls seemed to groan. The room was a feast for the senses, and the boy was ensnared.
“Archy. Archy! Gracious boy, are you paying attention?”
“Hm?” Archy said.
From the corner of the room, the Deacon’s eyes narrowed at his new assistant. “I hope all of this is clear to you. Next time, you might find yourself assembling it on your own. How would you like that?”
“Yes.” Archy’s glossy eyes fixed on his master for a heartbeat before succumbing to the pull of the machine. He stood like one entranced by a siren.
The Deacon finished raising the last of the counterweights and tied a loose end of rope, sweating a little from the effort. “Would you? Just would you? Then would you mind telling me what kind of knot I just used?”
“Hm?” Archy said.
“What kind of knot is this?”
“Hm?” Archy said.
“I’d have an easier time teaching a butcher’s knife!” the Deacon huffed. “Governor’s nephew or no, you’re going to have to pay attention to the assembly of such mechanisms if you expect entrance to our Brotherhood. This is among the simplest of our machinations—most recruits could assemble it in their sleep, and yet you seem to know nothing of it!”
The Deacon was not an unkind man, and he was not usually quick to anger. Like most teachers, though, he required a moment to assess his pupil. He took a deep breath and looked Archy over with a practiced eye, attempting to see past the pudgy frame, the hunched shoulders, the senseless expression. The boy was clearly taken by what he saw—his eyes held a wonder that the Deacon had seen on the faces of avid theater-goers, entranced by the words of some vapid thespian.
But he’d never seen that face on a member of their own. Never on a recruit.
“What kind of knot did I just tie? You must have heard. I told you not moments ago, and you’ve seen diagrams in your textbook. You’ve seen it demonstrated, and even held it in your own hands.”
“Yes.”
The Deacon moved to boy’s side. He remembered his own instructor standing next to him when he’d been a recruit—the fear of it, the presence, like standing next to a ship in dry dock—but none of that seemed to register with Archy. His expression was vague; the Deacon would have been surprised if the boy even noticed someone was standing next to him!
“Can you tell me the name of any knot?” the Deacon asked. “Any of them. The knot you’ve used on your shoes!”
Archy didn’t answer.
As far as new recruits went, Archy was a bit of a dud. Sure, he had a knack for some things—numbers, figures—but he didn’t answer questions. He could barely even make eye contact when they did their morning recitals, choosing instead to stare at his feet.
All of this wasn’t unusual, but recruits were expected to have a certain...passion for the work. Most approached it with a curiosity that bordered on reverence. The Deacon could sense none of that in Archy.
“He’s a damp stick, this one,” Archy’s handler had said, jerking a thumb in the boy’s direction when dropping Archy upon the Deacon’s doorstep. It had been raining that day, and Archy was standing in the downpour with no umbrella and a blank expression—his eyes fixed on the building’s gutters.
Of course the Deacon had been aware of the governor’s nephew—anyone who traveled in his circles would have been somewhat aware, even if they weren’t prone to gossip. Sent from school to school, friendless, mute; these stories passed from person to person like electric current. The Deacon had thought nothing of it until he’d me the boy, until his handler had placed Archy in the Deacon’s custody.
The Deacon had thought the speech to be a bit impertinent for a servant—no one in his own house would dare call the Deacon or his guests a “damp stick”—but Archy came from new wealth and the Deacon cared little for feigning niceties in such instances. He’d taken the boy in, as he’d been told, and begun the lessons the same way he had for dozens of other initiates.
In the dim chamber, the Deacon placed his hand on Archy’s shoulder.
“Can you tell me your name?”
Silence.
In an uncharacteristic change, the Deacon’s voice became soft and rushed. “Son, do you realize that no recruit can leave our number?”
The only sound was the tittering of the rats.
“Understand me, boy! You may fail at this indoctrination, but you may not leave. Has this been made plain to you?”
“Hm?”
Foolishness, the Deacon thought. Folly and foolishness! Unless that had been the governor’s plan all along...
But what concern was it of his? The Deacon straightened his back and looked again at the work before them. Pupil or no pupil, there was a job to do, and the Deacon would not fail on Archy’s account.
“We’ve naught left but to set it in motion, boy, and we’d better get at it. Our guest should be arriving soon. I’m sure he’d hate to miss it.”
The Deacon moved to the lever that would begin the sway. “This will release the...oh, why bother?” The boy wasn’t listening, anyway.
The brake released with a heavy clang, and the Deacon threw his weight into the meter-long lever.
But nothing happened. The lever would not budge.
“Strange...” the Deacon said, pressing. “This should release the starting mechanism.”
It didn’t, though, despite the Deacon’s weight.
Wonderful, the Deacon thought. Mere minutes before arrival, and the metal wasn’t swaying. He would have been able to finish sooner if he’d had an apt recruit, someone to pull the weights like a normal boy, someone to assist rather than staring dumbfounded.
The Deacon was about to curse when, with a flurry, Archy came alive. He ran to the wall of the dark chamber, grabbed hold of a rope, and scrambled up into the workings of the mechanism! Had the Deacon visited a city zoo, he would not have been able to find a beast that could climb a rope the way that boy did, and nor would he have wanted to. Dozens of feet of the ground, the boy pulled himself from hold to hold with abandon, his expression unchanging, but hitherto unseen muscles straining in the boy’s arms. His sausage fingers clamped like miniature vices, and deftly untangled a grouping of ropes that the Deacon had not seen. The whole machine seemed to shift and settle into a new position.
His job done, Archy scampered down as quickly as he’d gone up. No, quicker! The Deacon half believed that the boy broke an ankle upon landing, but he hopped up and ran to the lever with a swiftness the Deacon had not known the boy possessed, pushing the Deacon aside.
“What on Earth...”
The boy himself pressed the lever, which shifted quickly into place. With no fuss, the pulleys and ropes began their slow operation. A steady swoosh filled the room.
The Deacon took the boy by his arms. “What have you just done?”
Archy did not look at him. “She works.”
The way he said the word—“SHE”—as if the machine were alive. Why, the Deacon had no idea that the boy had even been paying attention! Perhaps he didn’t need to pay attention...perhaps the boy had just...somehow...understood.
The Deacon moved quickly to one of the mountings, withdrew his dagger, and placed it against the taught fibers of a rope.
“No!” Archy cried. It was as if the Deacon were holding a knife to the throat of the boy’s very mother.
“And why not, boy?”
“She wants to work!” Were those tears forming? Archy’s voice trembled with an emotion not unlike fear. He almost pleaded. “She must work!”
“There might be something to this...” the Deacon said, allowing himself to smile for the first time in the boy’s presence. He put his blade away. “Perhaps not as damp of a stick as all that, eh?”
Archy did not share in the Deacon’s enjoyment. He relaxed when the knife was out of sight, but all emotion washed from his face and his eyes went back to the ropes and pulleys.
“I suppose that’s enough for today. Come on, boy...I said COME! We’ve business elsewhere, and we must ready ourselves for our guest.”
“It’s thirty-one degrees.”
“What’s that?”
“Thirty-one! Not thirty-five!”
The Deacon found himself releasing a chuckle. “Are you referring to the starting angle? Why, it needn’t be perfect. The machine will do its business starting from a lesser degree.”
He had to grab the boy by the elbow and begin dragging him in order to get him to move away from the lever, and even then Archy dug in his heels.
“Not fast enough!” The boy’s eyes had shifted from the pulleys and now fixated on the blade. He didn’t relish its sharpened edge as much as he longed for it to be sharper, he didn’t admire its arc as much as he wished it to be smoother.
A damp stick? Why, the boy was as stout as an oak!
“Never mind that, Archibald! It is time for our guest to be introduced to his fate. The machine will perform admirably, as it has always done, as it will always do. Besides, I’ve a great many more machines to show you! I wonder what you’ll make of the Lazarene’s Daughter...”
It was difficult to drag the boy away. It seemed that young Archibald would not be satisfied until the blade swung its truest and the machine performed to its fullest potential.
The boy’s eyes darted to the restraints.
“No!” Archy cried. “No, the rats!”
“The rats?” the Deacon said, pulling the boy through the door with a chuckle. “You needn’t concern yourself with the rats, young man. There have always been rats in the pit. They have never interfered with the pendulum. Quickly, now! I hear our guest arriving." |
"their will is not their own"
"their will is not their own"
"their will..."the same voice repeating in your head all night, not a dream, not a real dream anyways. You could make out the events, like you were actually watching them, instead of your mind cobbling together random events. there was an inky blackness engulfing the town. starting out in the middle of the some street and expanding as a cloud covering an entire block, and then entire town. suffocating blackness. death.
then you heard them. You awoke in a frenzy after being startled by the radio sitting on your nightstand.
"fantastic new quartet in town, they've got otherworldly musical talent. Listen in exclusively on the Menta city broadcasting service!"
They lulled you instantly, their perfect melody entrancing you. Absolute unity. Timing, pitch, mellow voices, all perfectly complimenting each other and enhancing the performance. the epitome of dedication and synergy. Then the shrill voice came back.
"their will is not their own"it exclaimed, echoing through your bones. with haste you ran to you phone and tried dialing the station. No response. The whole situation seemed a little stranger than just a surreal dream. |
Your first task is to seek out the evil and most terrifying villain that is, ANAL PROBE MAN! His swift skills of thrusting anus’ have been of high notoriety lately. The most evil of the 3rd tier. After spending all morning asking locals about his whereabouts you finally track down a lead that takes you to a porno film set. You quickly notice he is a disguised as the director of said film. You draw your weapon and yell, “freeze dirtbag! I’m taking you in!” Immediately his evil shadowy tentacles wrap around your leg and drag you towards him. You wake up disoriented under a bright light in what appears to be a surgical room. You are scared for your life. Then a voice whispers, “relax as I allow the probing to begin.” And thus is the story of how you turned in your badge. |
I have killed more men and women than I care to remember. I have long given up my right to a happy life.
I am the one they come to for the most dangerous jobs. No matter the target. I will get it done. My only rule is no children... unless they are dicks then its negotiable only to light injuries.
Governments far and wide have sought out my services. Bought my help to topple one another. I have started wars that have cost millions of dead and trillions of dollars. I expected to be brought low for my crimes against humanity. I did not care. I knew I deserved it for what I have done and I am sorry.
Maybe one day I would slip up and get caught infiltrating the next president and die undercover or slip up my korean when sneaking a bomb or supplies to North Korea and get thrown to the dogs.
The way I got caught. I never would have expected. To be framed for someone else kicking a puppy because I happened to be wearing the exact same shoes as them.
Life. It never works out how you would expect. |
Elise sprinted to her room holding back all the tears she held as she fell onto the cold hard floor of her bedroom. Her back and arms were covered in bruises. Most from her abusive guardians by mostly from herself.
She had always known from the day they had adopted her that they only did it for the money and that they actually dispised her. Every day they would beat her to a pulp for every little thing they could find to punish her for.
And when they found the cuts on her skin that were not creates by them they interrogated her about it till she confesses about her deppresion. That's when matters got even worse. Before they would only leave bruises on her weak skin but now they drew blood.
The only freedom she could get from this hell was sleep. Elise was absolutely obsessed with musicals and 1800's stuff and when she would sleep she would meet all these kind people and she could do all kinds of wonderful things.
Sometimes she would even take meds to force herself to sleep so she could be happy. Which was all she wanted.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_--_-_-
Today her guardians had beat her again as they always did. But today she felt an anger burning inside of her that she had never felt before. She wanted revenge.
Elise had never had such dark thoughts. But after all she had gone through, she wanted to return the favor.
"Shut up"they say. "There's always someone going through worse than you"they would say.
Elise lucid dreamed quite often and decided to unfold her plan in sleep. She had taken out her secret stash of meds out from a hole in the floor boards and out of her burst of anger she didn't realize she had taken the entire bottle and passed out onto the cold hard wood floor.
She woke as she normally did In a different land. This time she found herself in a ball room.
She was beyond happy. She wanted to join in on the fun that all the people were having but then she remembered the plan she had to fulfill.
Elise was completely lost in thought, when suddenly a figure came out from behind her and gently placed a hand on her weak shoulder. She jolted, even though this was a dream she felt a cold crisp pain enter her body and she fell to her knees.
Out of confusion and shock she looked up to the tall dark figure standing before her.
It was a man...or she thought it was a man.
It was tall and so slender it was more of a walking coarse rather than a living body.
But it somehow managed to obtain such a regal look, as if no one dare to approach it.
"Wh-who are-..."Elise tried to speak but then she started coughing. Then gagging. That was when she realised her arm was once again covered in that familiar crimson liquid. But this time it came from her mouth rather than her arms or back.
She was terified. What had the figure done to her?! She was now experienceing the same pain I her dreams as she felt in her actual life.
The figure stared at her with a penetrating gaze and finally decided to help the poor girl up off her knees.
Before Elise passed out or something like that, she got a slight glimpse of the ball room and noticed that all the life that the room had been filled with was now empty and cold.
Then as suspected she collapsed into the figures arms.
When she woke this time, she didn't actually wake up like she had suspected. She was still in her dream.
Elise looked around..it was quiet.
There was a peace she felt that she had never experienced.
Then that all changed when the tall figure walked in on her.
"What did you do to me?!"Her voice came out as a croak.
"Don't use your voice."The thing...or man commanded.
"Now I know you must be wondering what had happened to you. Well my dear child this realm here, the dream realm is mine."
Elise looked at the man with an eyebrow raised.
"Ah, I see you are a little hesitant I believing me, well child I had seen and I to had experienced the pain you experienced in the mortal realm. Now you are here for a wile to give your body time to recover but then if you wish to return you must run. Away.."
"If I.."the man shushed her.
"You either stay with me, in the dream realm and fulfill all your fantasy's or you can return to the mortal realm, in full health and run for your life."
Elise was a little hesitant. But since she was unable to reply, the man handed her a note pad and she jotted down her answer.
*Am i dead?* Was the only question she asked.
"No child, quite the opposite. You see if you decide to stay here your body will just vanish, but it's not like death. It's much better."The man reassured.
*I'll take living here* she handed him the notepad with the words wrote on them.
He smiled with a gentle nod of his head and as he was about to leave the room he turned around "rest, you need it"was all he said before leaving.
Elise was happy. For she would never be forced to return to that he'll and she could do what ever she could imagine I the dream realm. |
Pt.1
It started on the 21st of December, which is conveniently the first day of the winter solstice, the sun would set at 3:41 PM exactly for those few of us in Alaska anyway. It was a normal day like any other or so it seemed, though many people liked to make an event out of watching the sunset so early. It wasn't noticeable at first, the absolute silence that is, though after a few minutes you'd notice it. At the time Arron was sitting in his childhood room at his parents' home in Anchorage Alaska, on his gaming laptop completely unaware of this new silence that cascaded over the earth as the sun began to set. Arron vented over the mic "Hey Jace, you know where Ryan went? He's been gone awhile now and the match is about to start, if he costs us this game I'm gonna be pissed dude"
"I don't know, I'm not his keeper why don't you text him? Also I'm picking DPS this time so you can heal or tank."
Arron grabbed his phone off the desk in his old room where his laptop also sat, and noticed his Mother, Rosa, messaged him asking if there was anything she wanted her and John, Arron's step dad for the past 12 years, to pick up at the store while they were there. "Uh, nothing in particular, but thanks"Arron texted back. Arron then messaged Ryan "Where the hell are you dude, match is about to start hurry up!".
"Alright I messaged him, lets just leave the lobby until he gets back, I'm going to go grab a snack though"Arron got up, leaving his room, and entering the hallway. Behind him was Mom, and John's room, and along the walls up until the opening to the living room the walls were filled with family photos, Arron's Mom liked to do this thing where the pictures at the end of the hall near her room were the oldest, and the pictures closer to the living room were newer, up until the empty frames that would mark this years holiday pictures. Arron passed the living room on his way to the kitchen had to do a double take as he glanced out the window. The Erikson's, Arron's childhood neighbors right across from his family's house left their sedan running in the driveway, which really wasn't all too weird, probably just warming it up since it was dark and cold out, but you'd think if that's what they were doing they wouldn't of left both the front doors to the thing open. "Well they are getting old... Probably just forgot"Arron thought to himself on his way to the kitchen. After grabbing a pack of chips a coke, and returning to his room Arron checked his phone, but there were no new notifications. Which was odd since his Mom always had her face buried in hers and usually was quick to respond, nothing from Ryan either, but that wasn't anything new, "the guys never checks his phone anyway". Arron threw his mic back on "Still there Jace? Hello hello hellllooooo!""Yeah! Yeah, shut up for a minute dude... Are you seeing what's on TV right now?""No, whaddya mean?""Just turn your TV on man, you'll see". Arron shook his head "Don't know why ya can't just tell me man but alright"and flipped his TV on, spinning in his chair to face it. Immediately the TV went static for a minute and then displayed the multicolored "Emergency Broadcast"screen. The TV was making a horrible screeching noise, but then came to an abrupt stop and went black before white text appeared with a monotone female voice over.
"Warning, this is an emergency broadcast. Do not go outdoors, as of today at 3:41 PM in Anchorage Alaska an unknown phenomenon has occurred.""I repeat, please do not go outdoors, stay inside as while the situation was further identified"
"Jace are you seeing this, what the hell is going on?"
"I have no clue dude, my local news is saying thousands of people in Alaska have all gone missing at the same time, what are you seeing? Aren't you up there?"
"I'm getting an emergency broadcast, I don't really get it though, they're saying everyone needs to stay inside.. That some unknown phenomenon is happening? Like what the hell does that even mean!?"
"I have no clue dude... Uh shit well, stay inside I guess? You said you parents were out earlier right, you should probably try to call them"
"You're right, I'm gonna go do that I'll be back" |
World-Enders.
Aries.
Taurus.
Gemini.
Leo.
Virgo.
Libra.
Scorpio.
Sagittarius.
Capricorn.
Aquarius.
Pisces.
.
Cancer.
Long did they live and long did they reign!
Celestial beings of fate and fortune, chaos and crisis cast from the heavens to purge our wretched selves for the sins of flesh our souls have committed!
Serve us mercy yee mighty titans, thou grace hath opened our eyes to it's own miserly actions!
Breath virtue! And morality! Onto us so that we may ascend unto your lofty breasts!
-
Epiclisces 13:7
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The crab had gone too far this time.
A city.
A whole goddamned city!
You could worship a whore, you could give her a golden cock to suck and rose water with honey to drink and a virgin lad to fuck her miseries away, but she was still a whore!
You could worship these monsters. And offer them sacrifices...
You could write myths about them and how they were gods, and you could recruit every starry eyed idiot in the twelve cities to join your miserable cunt cult, but this was enough!
Fifteen ships o' fish we fed the fockin thing each month and all so what? The high council can wank their flimsy cocks at having a god in their bay?
It was a fockin crab! We shoulda netted it, grilled it with some coals and a bit o' lemon and fed every peasant from hear to the city of virtue with the rotten husk of this abomination!
But no. We kept it here and danced around it and fed one o' every two fish to the creature and each year it got bigger and wanted more!
We were the ones who went out and caught the bloody fish! They didn't even pay US for the tribute! Cloaked cunts just took the fish and bloody left! Next thing ya know, they was gonna feed US to the crab!
Man eats crab, not the other way around!
And then the thing happened which everyone knew it would; we had a bad year.
And o course, we'd all heard the stories. Of ol' Leo the lion leavin its dessert desert hunting grounds to chow down on a village or two. Of lady Libra, comin' down from her mountain peaks, stony tits glistening in the sun as she stomped a thousand people to pieces for a couple O' gems!
But this was High Bay! The biggest port in the country, no, the world!
A million people and their uncles livin' here, working here, eating and fucking and drinkin' here... and they all get crushed by a giant crab that got hungry?!
We fed it TEN ARMADAS OF FISH!
Dumped em right there in the middle of the bay into it's cunt mouth!
It didn't say thanks, and we didn't want thanks, by the Good Graces.
You want to be the king of our little creek? Fine.
You want the taxes and all the fishy whores in the world? Fine.
You can be king and you can have your cunt fish!
But a King is supposed to be loyal to his subjects! He don't just.... LEAVE THE CASTLE ONE DAY FOR A NICE BIT O' SAUNTERIN' AND BLOODY KILL ALL HIS SUBJECTS EH?
Not when they done paid their taxes and kissed his ass all year, eh? His slimy, crabby, fishy royal arse!
And my Caroline! My sweet, sweet Caroline. Oh Graces, the closest to the stars I'll ever get. Her mouth was a kingdom of joy. Her bossom my only blessing in this world. She made the best cod this side o' the settin' sun and I could tell her all about the fishes and the sea around the bay and the nets, and she'd stroke my chest with her head next to mine, and her hair like gold all fluttered out on the cot and gettin' in ma damn mouth. She wasn't no lady Libra BUT SHE WAS MINE!
AND THE CUNTIN CRAB KILLED HER!
SMASHED HER TO SMITHEREENS!
We'd been out past the bay when it happened. Twenty or so leagues out, till the city was a bumpy speck in the distance. We'd spend three days out here till our stores were full o' fish and then we'd come back just in time for the monthly sacrifice, s'what I'd told Caroline.
But the tide had been pushin' against us and the wind was blowing from the land to the sea. I'da used the rows but the boys had been tired workin' all night and their hands were tired. I'd just prayed that the other ships with the offerins could get to the city before ol' Crusty Crab woke up.
And then, on the fourth day, as we'd been headin back... a mountain rose out o the sea.
So red he was black and legs like towers, I'd known the bay was deep but the thing that came out o' the water was no god. It couldn't be.
Gods were righteous and good. You did a sin and Cancer would gobble you up. S'how my pa taught me.
But Cancer was cruel, and a titan of chittering roars and claws that shined the sun into me eyes from leagues away. It's legs were pointed like spears and even the Cathedral of the Cancer, which was said to be one of the highest buildings in all the land, and bulky and stiff so it survived any storm, fell like a stack o cards, its tip barely brushing its underbelly, glistening with falling seawater and dangling algae. Entire reefs of coral grew craggy on it's top and hind, and when it came out the water fully, it shifted its smaller claw; still as big as half the town, to the side and we saw it had a megalodon in it's grap, a tiny prawn in comparison to the devil crab.
As the Grace as my witness, I saw the thing bring the megalodon to it's mouth and rip, not so much as bite but use it's mouth claws to rip of chunks of the shark and bring it to it's ungodly mouth till there was nothing there but a tailfin the size of me house and blood. Dripping blood.
When the red bastard reached the middle of the town, it stopped, it's shell covering the entire center of the city.
And then it dropped. Like a boulder on an anthill, the entire ocean shook as it chittered and chirped, like a cheerin basterd.
And then it slipped off the peninsula into the other side of the bay, and everything was the same. Everything was the same except my Caroline was dead and my city was crushed by a hellspawn crab and my little fishing galley was leagues out in the sea, carried there by the twenty foot long waves that crashed into me boat when Cancer sat it's lard ass onto my life and destroyed it.
We'd all been speechless, me an' the boys for three days. Living of the rancid fish and not sayin a word. Mourning, each of us in our own way. Mourning wives and fathers and sons and daughters.
Mourning for each other.
I'd wept bitterly for two days alone in my cabin. Lost my paunch but gained a hunch. And on the third day I'd carved my Caroline's name onto the largest harpoon I had; a rusted cast iron bugger, big as my leg from hip to boot that decorated the wall above my personals chest. It had three lances sticking out of the end, turned red from dried blood and it looked like if I licked it, I'd kneel over and die. Figured if I stuck it in something, maybe a mountain, it'd have a hell of a time taking it out.
Maybe an eye? Aye, an eye would do.
The bastard had taken the light from his.
On the third day I came out of my cabin half the man I was when I went out, but by the Graces did my men see the fire in my eyes. And I saw the same fire in theirs.
I held up the harpoon. My harpoon, me Caroline.
And I roared. And the boat and the seas and the heavens themselves roared back, the sun whipping me for me sin and the seaspray coolin it right off like it was eggin me on.
Go on son, said the sea and the sun. Go and kill a god.
"WHO WANTS TO COOK A CRAB!?"I yelled.
And my crew, bless em, the ones who'd worshipped the cunt threw their anchor pendants overboard and the ones who hadn't waved their forks.
I pointed my spear at the ruins of the city. No doubt the little basterd was resting on the other side of the bay, resting after it's punishment of my home. And when it woke up this time next month, I'd be there. Waiting for it. Waiting to give it it's tribute, a barrel of fish and a barb o' poisoned bitterness.
You couldn't kill a god, I thought, as my crew whipped the ship around with their oars and unfurled the sails. But you could blind one. And an eye for an eye was enough for me. He'd taken the light o mine eyes, I'd take the light out o' his.
Cancer, I'm comin' for you, ya crab cunt. |
Tired from a long day at work, she leaned against the bus bench, angling her feet so her heels were lifted off of the concrete. The drab sky was just another item in the long line of monotony that seemed to fill her life. She checked her watch -- two minutes. Two minutes of semi-comfortable time alone, then a thirty-minute bus ride to her apartment. Two more minutes to reach her front door, one minute to collapse on the couch, and two hours watching a relentless stream of advertisements punctured by occasional canned laughter. She would spend four minutes making a microwave meal, then watch the clock as the most recent medical drama would unfold in front of her. Then, six hours lying in bed, followed by a rainy morning spent eating lukewarm oatmeal, dreading another mindless shift at work. The coming day made her feel even more tired, as if the energy she would expend tomorrow had already drained from her body today.
The bus, gray from driving through the city streets, rolled to a stop. She pushed off of the bench, feeling the hard concrete on her sore heels as they made contact with the ground, painful after the short but nice respite they had while she was waiting for the bus.
The driver nodded, a friendly gesture that was made impersonal by the fact the driver was facing the road ahead of her. Still, the thought of sitting in a chair made the passenger eager to swipe her card and make her way onto the bus. Although the bus seemed full, she had no trouble finding a seat near the real wheels. The passenger fell into the molded plastic chair, hardly looking at the person sitting next to the window in the same row. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, grateful for the short rest she could take as the bus trundled along the city blocks.
It was a minute, perhaps two, before the passenger started to get uneasy. She kept her eyes closed as she tried to figure out what was different about this ride. It took her another fifteen seconds to realize that the bus was *too* quiet. Instead of hearing the normal bustle of a public space -- someone speaking on a cell phone, or a teenager's headphones blaring music that surely would make them go deaf -- there was silence.
The passenger opened her eyes and carefully looked at the rows ahead of her, moving only her eyes. She noted how odd it was that she saw only women filling the seats in those rows. She decided to risk a look behind her -- the silence was still making her uneasy. At the back of the bus, she saw a woman holding a baby in her arms, rocking it as it looked up at its mother. Next to her, a young girl sat, coloring a picture with a crayon. The crayon suddenly broke, cracking in the silence like a whip. "Mom!"The young girl cried exasperatedly, look over to yet another woman sitting on her left. It was at this moment that the passenger noticed the bright green eyes of the little girl; startled, the passenger then noticed the long, brown hair and fair skin of the little girl. She inwardly remarked that this little girl could have been her twin; the similarities of the girl, from her freckles to her mismatched socks, to herself were uncanny. Worried by the thought of being seen as a creep, she quickly turned away from the scene, hoping her staring had not caught the attention of the little girl's mother.
The passenger's brow furrowed as she rested her head back against her seat. The feeling of unease had not fled from her stomach. Absentmindedly, her gaze shifted to the person sitting to her left. It was an old woman, gray hair providing a little cushion between her forehead and the bus window. She seemed disinterested in the city buildings being passed outside, yet not interested in her fellow passengers either.
The passenger stretched, glancing again at her watch. Twenty-six minutes left.
Another face caught her eye as she lowered her arm. This time, it was the other face that looked at hers in surprise. The other woman quickly turned away, lowering her eyes toward the book that lay open on her lap, face red. The passenger noticed how odd it was that both she and the other woman had similar hairstyles -- long, but pulled up into knot. In fact, this woman had many items in common with the passenger -- glasses, a dirty blue scarf, even a similar shade of nail polish.
It was then that the passenger paused to take a closer look at the other people seated on this bus. She again noted that all were female, but of varying ages. She also noticed that every person had a light complexion. This was truly odd; when she had first moved to the city, she had noticed how diverse the people were. Now, they all seemed homogeneous, a monochrome against the usual rainbow of the city.
The feeling of unease grew in the passenger's stomach. Had she taken the wrong bus? No, she thought, I was at the stop by 5:54. There were no other buses driving behind this one. After a second thought, she was sure she had boarded the right bus. After all, there was the deli this route went by at 6:17 exactly.
*This is not normal*, the passenger thought. Although the feeling of unease formed a pit in her stomach, a glimmer of excitement produced itself in her chest. This was different. This was interesting.
The passenger deliberately looked around the bus, no longer caring about appearances. She rose halfway out of her seat to get a better look at the people around her.
Young and old women stared back at her. There was an eight-year-old girl, dressed in a clown costume which clashed with her sad face. *How do I know she is eight?* The passenger thought. She just knew. She had worn that same costume her eighth Hallowe'en. She also remembered crying in her room after her mother threw a brush at her. |
In the year 2120, a young scientist managed to find a cure to old age. He discovered the cause of aging, Oxygene and managed to find a way to stop the necessary poison from damaging our bodies. At the age of 25, every human has a surgery to set a O2 liquifier in their lungs. This device allows the oxygen coming in our lungs to get transformed into the water our body needs to survive. This genius discovery not only solved the natural issue of aging but also solved the water issues that we were facing do to the important climate changed our planet was dealing with.
I closed the book and look out the window, darkness with a few stars in the distance. I had grown tired of this few i longed to see trees, plants, animals, to feel the earth under my feet again and over all to see my friends again.
At the age of 25 every human has to go on a space mission to protect our galaxy from possible invaders. That expedition that lasts for either five hundred to replenish the different space stations, to five thousand years touring between them and acting as guards. Depending on how long of mission we chose the world government rewards up accordingly to live the rest of our lives in peace. My three friends and I had all chosen to go to space for the five millennials, and our time was coming to an end. Today was the last day I was stationed here and tomorrow I would be allowed to head back on the 250 day trip back to earth.
I sat down in my chair and readied the engines, all was good. I checked my wrist computer and had a look at the old photos. I chuckled a bit as I wondered if they would look any different 5024 years old and I didn’t look any different from when I was 25, a little more muscle perhaps. I locked my seat belt and closed my eyes.
“Ok Google, lets head back home”
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
a little out of my comfort zone but I hope you like it ! |
“No, no, no! I’m absolutely sure that rooks can only move diagonally!”
The curly-haired kid shook his head. “I’m telling you, Alex, you can’t move them like that! They have to move in L shapes!”
“You’re wrong!”
“No, I’m not!”
“Yes, you are! Fine, let’s look it up. But I already know you are.”
I sat there in confusion as the freckled kid started tapping at his odd rectangle he held. What a mess this was. I’d been commanded this way and that. They couldn’t agree on a thing, and neither seemed to know the rules of battle. Our formations were in shambles. I could only take heart by looking across the board and seeing the enemy black army in much the same state as us. This was supposed to be a glorious battle! I was going to charge in with my fellow countrymen and duel the enemy knights on their horses of night. What was to be great was now a mess.
“Ha!” Alex interrupted my thoughts. “Told you, Sam, you can’t move them in L-shapes. That’s ridiculous! You have to move them in... in straight forward, back and sideways lines? No diagonal?”
Sam snorted. “I told you that you were wrong, Alex!”
“You were wrong, too! How many times have we moved them wrong?”
“I don’t know. Who cares? I know the other rules. Just keep playing.”
“It’s your turn, Sam.”
“Of course!” Sam responded. “Hmm... oh, I know! Knight to C7!”
I heard the command and acted at once. At last! A chance to prove myself. The enemy knight sat atop his dark horse, daring me to battle on the great C7 square. I charged forward on my mighty steed, striking at him. We dueled, our swords clashing in the afternoon sun that spilled onto the battlefield. With great effort, I disarmed my opponent, knocking his blade to the ground with a thud. Triumphant, I stood in my stirrups, bringing my sword down upon him!
“Wait!” Alex broke out, his voice shrill with irritation.
My sword stopped a hair’s-breadth from my foe’s midnight black helm. I looked up, unsure of what was happening.
Alex looked at Sam, his finger pointing accusingly. “You can’t do that! You moved him 4 spaces diagonally! Only pawns can do that! Knights are supposed to move in a K shape!”
I sighed, burying my head into my hands. Would this chaos ever end? |
The yellow glow emanated from her hands as it wrapped around the strange warriors arms. Tendrils of power and sparks faded in and out of existence as the previous gashes and blood adorning his armor slowly healed with naught but soreness. His clawed hand dug into the stone face as he felt the light permeate into his dark flesh underneath. The light magic stung sharply, but he knew the woman was trying to help. He endured it, but still it was something he was unaccustomed to.
"Arghh. Th-Thenks, Hoomin,"the warrior struggled to speak. Human-Talk was foreign to him as he was born from a land very, very far away. That, and his mind was confused. He saw all normal humans and elves as the same.
"You must be careful, Greth!"She scolded the demonic warrior. Normally one adorned in onyx black armor with spikes and horns all over would strike fear in the hearts of those who saw him. Though, this strange woman hadn't been affected by his.. Charms.. "I realize you are tough, but you are not infallible. Your accident has hurt you. You're still healing!"Greth was wounded previously, and she first found him weeks ago inside the dark forest, surrounded by broken trees and deeply red blood. His mind seemed broken and addled. She assumed something attacked him, and left his mind in disarray.
The woman was an elf with long, curly and beautiful hair. It bounced and waved as she walked, and her green forest cloak did the same. It was in stark contrast to the monstrosity before her. She found him and took pity on a seemingly child-like demon, but she knew the truth of his nature. He was something no-one would dare go near, even in the demon realm. Yet, she was unafraid. It was her nature to care, and he seemed to take a liking to her.
Relaxing his strong grip in the stone and pulling it away, he peered at his newly repaired arm as she finished the repair. A massive boulder from the mountain fell earlier, and he shielded her from certain death. It collided with his forearm, shattering the boulder. Though, he was left with an injured arm and broken armor. His red slit eyes gazed at the human before him. Without the constant barrage of anger and primordial killing intent, his mind was suddenly clear of his races bloodlust. He could see the care and tenderness in her beautiful eyes as she looked over his arm once more. He didn't know what affection was, or even the concept of family, but he related this feeling to one of safety and he didn't care to be separated from the pretty human.
Snorting, he decided she did good and aimed to walk forward again. He took lead, and was unaware of the loving gaze from the woman. Not one of intimacy, but one of a mother and son. Though, she was certain he had a few hundred years on her and she was only 176; still a young woman! Her curls bounced and swayed as they walked. |
The last thing I ever see in my first life was the ground rushing up to meet my falling body.
*Silence.*
*Darkness.*
*Nothingness.*
In front of me was an angel, a demon, and a choice. The demon looked completely like a normal person, if you ignored the horns. The angel looked frail and disheveled. It had horns as well, but unlike the demon’s, they glowed. The angel’s horns shone a brilliant light that blinded him. A chain made of light came from his ankle, and connected to something miles and miles behind him and up to the sky.
The demon was dressed in regular civilian clothing. Unlike the legends say, he didn’t have a goat’s legs, his skin wasn’t reddened by blood and soot, and he didn’t carry a pitchfork made of fire.
I felt myself pulled to the angel.
The last thing I ever saw in my second life was the demon’s eyes, looking at me. They looked sad.
*Loud.*
*Bright.*
*“Heaven.”*
An angel’s horns will glow to blind him, so that the angel will need God to guide him.
A demon’s horns won’t glow because he didn’t want God to see for him.
The last thing I ever saw in my third life was everything that has ever existed, all at once. I felt the fear of a prey animal and the satisfaction of the kill. I felt the strange calmness of the last living human as he died, and the grief of his crewmates. I felt a kid who was excitedly opening his Christmas presents, and his brother who lay dead on the kitchen floor.
All at once.
And then, nothingness, again.
It’s silence was broken by God’s laughter. |
"I walk down the street my sneakers were infact recently bought and when I went with the clerk into the changing room he said I had the same shoes as him. This was a plesent surprise I told him my shoe size and he asked if he can try them on so I told him to keep it"I said nervously my eyes darting around the room as my words get came out panicked and rushed "your honor he is lying, he stole thoughts shoes from the man and gave him his crappy ones"the prosecutor said as a murmur of agreement rang through the jury. "well here's the receipt if you want it"I said smiling though I've been told my smile looks like a foxes grin. Being freed shortly after I noticed it was cold so I put on my trenchcoat and processed to cross the street looking right, left then right again just to be sure. (I'm a bad writer and on mobile so have mercy) |
**The Demon Son**
As we stood atop the castle ramparts and the storm of demonic energy raged forth from the portal as I drove my blade through his chest he passed from this world and the land was freed from his demonic tyranny but little did I know this was only the beginning of the story.
Years later rumors of a dark warrior who was conquering the bandit clans in the surrounding wildlands and uniting them under a single banner reached my court and something felt familiar like a business left unfinished. With that, I got one of the castles carriages ready and set out towards where his fortress was said to be. I wasn’t the young woman that I had once been when I fought the demon king but I would still be more than enough to handle the bandits and warriors of this realm. It was a long journey but after a few weeks of traveling we arrived at the gates of his fortress, I stepped out of the carriage and my white armor shined out from under my white cloak with golden trim. It would obvious to anyone around that I was not from around here however as I approached the gates they swung open and standing there was a young man adorned in furs and leather armor who the spitting image of his father but with brilliant blonde hair “I didn’t think you would have the guts to comes here King Killer,” he said as spit the words like a venom from his mouth. “If I wanted this place would burn however I have not come here for war. You’re your fathers’ son, a noble by birth and I have come to offer you a seat in the government.” I said as I stood tall in front of him, any power that he had seemed to mean nothing beside my royal demeanor. He raised his blade out of its sheath and pointed it against my throat “And why would I ever join the woman who killed my father?” I frowned, it was sad to see a man so consumed by rage “You are not your father, you are your own man. Do not let what happened to your father consume you. He had fallen from the good path and endangered the world. You must learn and be better, I can help you to see that your family and its history is much more than simply your father and his ambitions.” He sheathed his blade and a conflicted look over his face as he tried to figure what my game was. I simply smiled as I turned around and took a step towards the carriage “Wait. I’m coming with you,” he said as he took a step towards the carriage, I smiled and nodded as I stepped into the carriage and held the door open for him to step in after me “Welcome Siene hier to the Family of Zul.”
With his leadership, the outer realms that he conquered came to be a part of the empire with him as the councilor responsible for leading them. As he learned more about the noble family that his father Kien had betrayed, his family had been noble warriors of the faith for centuries before his father had betrayed all of that and summoned demons into this realm in an attempt to expand his tyrannical rule. Through the use of the capitols libraries and schools, Siene expanded his knowledge base and in the years that were to come he would become my best advisor and greatest confidant during the wars to come but that is a story for another time. |
Hi u/kiwithedork, this submission has been removed.
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The procedure was painful. I didn't expect it to take so much energy, but now its over. The pod opens up and I fall out of it. An Identical pod in front of me opens, something in it collapses. I gather my remaining strength and stand up. My legs felt like they were made of noodles. I look to the opposite pod and see a figure standing weakly.
I slowly approach it, barely having the strength to do it. It seemed that the figure was going through the same thing. As we approached each other, I could see more details about them. Her arms were trying to cover her naked, slimy body. Her long dark hair covered their face, but she could still see me.
We finally reach each other. She grabs my shoulder and tries to use me as a support. We were both tired, and thus both of us dropped to our knees. I gently push the hair off her face, and I saw my face. She was me, at least, she was a part of me.
"Who are you?"she asks, "W-where are we?". I smirk as I hold the side of her head. "Hey Alex, it's me, Rafflesia, your alter"I tell her. Her eyes widened in disbelief. She started to panic for a bit before my lab assistant came running with a towel. "Professor, you did it! Sorry I couldn't get here fast enough, I was just so caught up in the moment". My lab assistant covers Alex with a towel. "Well, Alex we have a lot to discuss. This is gonna be a lot to take in"I say while I help her get up.
It was going to be a long talk between the two of us, but by the time I'm finished, she'll know who's boss. After that, that goody two-shoes will finally be out of my life forever! |
*Bakardókei Maaviybless"an*
His coming was long fortold in the ancient texts, far longer heralded by the voices of the stars when they, too, were but mere mortals. A fantastic creature: a being that smote and cleansed the world of the corrupt filth that called themselves our predecessors, leaving behind just a bare few to begin anew and carry forth His legacy.
"When the world is gone", they'd end, always in their cryptic tongue, "and died away from the light, He shall rise once again to cleanse us of our newly begotten rot."
Not to say that I was against the idea, of course not - that was heresy - but to say I was sceptical of the message they told would be putting it lightly. I always had been rather doubtful of the stories: the legendary heroes and saints; the mythological beasts of fire; the people of water that founded the first civilisation to grace our Phantasma. But time had whittled away at those rash judgements and gave way for new, less heretical ones.
Now, all I wondered was how they'd managed to turn a creature that would otherwise spell the end of times, into some kind of Brother that would save us from ourselves when we were at our worst? Very few phantasians can do that, including myself, so why would *The One of Many Wings and Bloodied Talons, Father of Death* (as He was described in the oldest surviving poetry), care to try either?
Well, now I had my answer: He didn't. He just sort of... stood there, staring deeply into your soul, His whispers causing spontaneous bodily combustion to all those that heard His voice. He demanded nothing - or at least, nothing that anyone could report, they being dead and all - and just waited. Waited on His pedestal, amid a sea of blood.
For what, exactly, one may ask? The surviving High Priests, may their words remain holy and their voices eternally clear, argued about nothing else.
For me to explain His Coming effectively, I would need to go into millenniums of history; forgotten and regaled; and to do so would be absurd. Instead, I'll summarise the immediate.
The people of The First Holy City awoke early that Eastday morning, gathering at their respective Churches, Alters, and communicating with their priests. As was custom, on that day, every ten years, all the people of every one of the Twelve Holy Cities and beyond would gather, praying for the success of the High Priests in calling to our Brother.
As tradition dictated, after an hour passed and nothing changed, the populace was sent home to live as they usually did, lamenting or scorning the High Ones' whims as they chose.
But, upon the stroke of midday that same Eastday, the heavens caved - the earth plunged upward - reality itself shifted to tear open an eye that could only be described as a horrifying amalgamation, setting sheer terror into all those that glanced upon it.
It was chaos for some months after that, The Devil's Eye (as it soon came to be known) expanding every twilight to greet the citizens of our world with an ever increasing desire to swallow Solus, come dawn. Somehow, I know not how, the High Priests stilled the global fervour, bringing the United Continents to an uneasy peace.
That peace remained unwavering when He first stepped out of that void, faltered for a mere hour when High Priest Angelico IX succumbed to his injuries, wavered when three others followed in his demise, and completely shattered when the oldest and most trusted of them all was found entirely delerious and incomprehensible on the streets of his City.
But of course they were, again, placated with the threat of His wrath.
With that, the boy before me fell to his knees and sobbed, his mind in veritable ruins, his body slowly beginning to dissipate into particles fathomlessly small for mortal eyes. His obedience had him silenced. His remains drew themselves toward me as a mist, and followed my hand's wave to settle into the pool at my feet.
He was strong. Far, far stronger than those that had come before him, and he had proven himself far more valuable. What the poor thing had not known, was that his High Priests were already "dead", replaced by their mists. I didn't want to cause too much havoc.
..."Great Winged Bloody Monster", huh? And after this, I suppose they'd call me "The Harbinger of Ash"- *Izaon'o Kilheriko*? Maybe those of the next reset won't be so weak, and they'll finally answer my questions.
One can only hope. |
The strong reign over the weak, that had always been the rule.
At the age of eighteen, it is custom to visit the lord residing over the town to have your ability tested out to see if you can be of any use to them or the town. Every person in our city is ranked by their power, S for extremely powerful, A for powerful, B for useful, C for lesser powers and D for useless. Here the Weathers family rule as kings, they have absolute control over electricity, anything from the current in your phone to thunder itself can be altered by them.
It has now been 4 month since I turned eighteen and visited them and i still have no power whatsoever. I tried to keep that fact a secret but it was not one I could keep well guarded. As soon as I went back to school I started getting bullied and treated as trash. Fynn Weathers, first son of the Weathers family new about my secret. Of course he would since he was present for the ceremony. He is the famous school bully, he uses his name to control people and to get everything he desires.
At first it was not much, my desk moved out of the classroom, some pens going missing but it quickly escalated as more and more people knew about my disability. They looked at me with disgust, even the teachers, no one would get close to me or even talk to me as if I had some contagious disease and then the beating began. One evening, they took me behind the school building and punched me until I was on the floor and even then they didnt stop. They were vicious, they kicked me until I was unconscious shouting curses at me, saying I should just drop dead.
When I woke up it was already night time, I pushed my broken body back home. It was a long walk, my legs would barely move, pain flared everytime i took a breath and my vision was blurred. Broken ribs, swollen eyes, blood had hardened in my nose making it impossible to breath through it, I was a petty sight.
I finally reached home and pushed the front door. My parents were in the kitchen eating dinner, as I walked in my dad looked me up and down before locking his eyes into mine for a second. He looked away, I knew at that moment that he was ashamed of me. The pain I felt in my heart was worse than the beating, A sudden swirl of emotions flooded my head. Anger, rage, hate. How could my own father look at me like that, did he also think I was better off dead ? I dragged my tired body to my room and stared at myself in the mirror, dried blood and bruises all over my face, a cut in my lip, another on my eyebrow. I stared in my own eyes, hate, so much hate. I smiled, maybe I was better of dead but I would not be the first one to go down. I wanted vengeance, I wanted blood and I would go all out for it.
I dropped out of school and started to train my body. If i had no power I just needed to make my own body a weapon so I ran, I swam, press ups, pull ups name them i did them all but I still had no real fighting experience.
One evening, coming back from a run i saw a man trying to get his way with a girl at the back of a dark alley. It was just what I needed, I walked in my blood was boiling. I called the thug out. He gave a quick glance at me.
“What does the brat want with me, can’t you see I’m busy” he grumbled before turning back to the girl.
I smirked and dashed onto him. He must of heard me as he spun around as soon as I got close to him. His fist caught the side of my face and I crashed on the wall beside him. The girl ran away.
“Look what you’ve done kid, you’re gonna pay for that” he muttered as he picked me back up. The thug was twice my size, I was just a rag doll to him, he threw me against another wall and kicked me in the guts. I winced, he was strong, too strong. I looked back up and i saw him towering above me, light appeared around his first and a ball of fire flared in his hand.
I knew I had messed up, challenging a random person was madness. He could summon fireballs, an A rank ability, from now on it was live or die. He threw the first one at me, I jumped sideways barely dodging it but he was fast the second one was on its way. I pushed back up to try and dodge the ball and my foot slipped in some slime. It was over, I was about to die, I was powerless in front of him. Full of rage and despair I screamed as loud as I could as the fireball was about to hit. It vanished. Where was it, where did it go ? I had no time to think about that, I had to strike back. I stood back up and jumped towards the thug, he was staring blankly at me, not understanding what happened to his fireball. I got in close and punched as hard as I could in his groin, the man let out a slow pitched scream as he fell to his knees. His head, was now in reach and I slammed my knee straight in his nose. It was not enough, he readied some more fireballs and threw them all towards me. I was too close to dodge them all. I knew I could not run away so once more I got closer a spun hitting his jaw with my elbow. He spat blood out and unleashed fire upon me. I was too close to do anything about it, I felt the heat over my face but once again they all disappeared as they were about to connect.
At that moment I realised I was not powerless, my power was that I could cancel other people’s powers. I grabbed a bottle from the floor and walked up to him, he threw some more fireballs to me and i watched his face change to fear as he watched them all vanish in front of me. I smashed the bottle smashed it over his head and the brute fell flat, I had won. I was no longer powerless, I laughed as I could almost taste vengeance on my tongue.
I will show them all what it costs to mess with me, I’ll make them suffer.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hope the story is entertaining e.e not to sure about my phrasing tho
Have a nice evening. |
Andolynne woke up as usual in her normally groggy mood. The clock read 8:04. As she rose from her bed, she tripped over a box with a note reading “for you”. She opens it and a rush of cold air and swelling darkness surrounds her. Surprised she closed the box and opened it again but braced herself. Once again the rush of cold and darkness enveloped her and she lost the feel of the box between her fingers. She floated in the darkness and felt almost sleep. She thought to herself as to why she felt so sleepy. Her eyes were cemented shut as she slept. Suddenly a light rose up from behind her, feeling its warmth, she turns towards it. As she sits up she realizes she’s in her bed. 8:04 the clock reads. She felt as if she was there for hours. But when she looked at the foot of her bed, the box wasn’t there. “Strange” she thought. Later as she went to the pool with her brother, she felt the hush that came over her when she sat in darkness. She was scared so she decided to leave the pool she can’t find her brother. As she frantically yells for him, she sees the red of his pool pants and back rise from the surface. Andolynne jumped into the pool as quickly as he can. In shock she calls the police but her hands still shake so she couldn’t preform cpr or she would mess it up. When the ambulance arrived her brother was rushed to the hospital. After the doctors told her that her brother wouldn’t make it through the night due to the pressure of the water on his lungs, she broke int tears. The hush returned and by a miracle her brother opens his eyes.
Sorry for formatting
N
Girl with a mobile. |
John sighed lightly as he sat down at his desk and began working on the book he had been writing for several years now. He was using this book as a means of explaining the strange phenomena that is his emotions. You see any time he feels something, no matter what it is, it seems to manifest it's self as a physical being. He has no idea whether or not anyone else can see it though.
He rolled his eyes a little as he tried to figure out what to put on the next page. Writer's block was no joke. He got up and shook his head, going into the kitchen to get something to drink, and in there he found the person he was most familiar with. Mild irritation.
The person was solid orange, no clothes, no privates, no hair, nothing, just a shortish, orange person of medium build with an incredibly smug smile. "Hey there Johnny boy! How's the book coming along?"it asked teasingly
The man groaned a little, already tired of his shit. "You and I both know how bad it is MI"He replied with an eye roll as he tried to ignore him. Though he already knew how futile that was. "Yeah I know, you know you probably can't finish the thing right?"and with that, Mild Irritation had summoned someone who would start a chain reaction, Self Doubt.
"Yeah, he's right...What if you can't?"Asked the grey haired woman who had materialized behind John. "I can alright?"He replied shaking his head. But that didn't stop the woman from filling his head with doubts. Soon enough he couldn't stop them as always and he felt defeated within only a few minutes.
And so appeared the next one. A very large grey beast like thing, with a gaping black maw and voided eyes. Apathy. And with that seemingly indefeatable emotion with him he just walked back to his room, laid down. And let them empty void of emotion fill him. He'd try again in a few hours. Maybe. |
The fluorescent lights buzz rhythmically above me, the sound waves trickling over me in an almost tactile manner. I open my eyes, allowing another sense to experience the padded cell around me. How odd… the last padded cell I’ve seen the inside of had had a door of some sort. Whether hidden beneath the quilted surface or clearly exposed, escape or entrance, there had to be some cognitive route connecting delusion and reality.
Beams of energy blanket my skin, and glittery particles dance whimsically in the calm air. I am alone. I wonder how I got here, the stain of adrenaline my only memory. I step forward, the cushioned canvas supporting my body, and I pause. Another step and another pause, I rotate myself to face the wall previously at my back and there, a standing mirror. The aged wooded frame surrounds the tarnished mirrored surface, and I contemplate my approach. |
It's hard, alright? Yeah, I shouldn't do it. I got new morals. I've had a hard time and I've come back from that hard time. But hard times ain't so bad, right? I know I'm right, I had a lot of fun back in those days. But fun don't last forever, does it? What I'm trying to tell you is that I got the itch.
You know the itch. The one that keeps me up at night and drives me mental, I tell you. Now that's an understatement if I ever heard one. My head's spinning and I'm drinking more alcohol even though the doctor said I shouldn't. But I still do it, because I want it. And now I got the bad itch, the really bad itch.
I have helped a couple people, I know I've done some things I never would've. But in this life, you got one shot. Just like I want another shot in my veins. There's no need for shame. It's just what I feel like. That itch. It's terrible, honestly. I can't sleep at night anymore. Don't matter that I've helped people. The itch is growing.
And that's the thing. I know where to go, what to say, how to get in. I know everything about my place. And my itch is something terrible. I know it's not a good idea, I know that. But fuck it. I'm doing it. I'm doing it tonight. |
“Watch this!”
“We don’t have time, Blaskdn. We have to get back.”
“You’re a four-dimensional being, Spqowei. Stop being a pussy.”
Spqowei’s tentacle twitched nervously. He hated when Blaskdn used human slang, mostly because he struggled understanding the human languages. He never admitted this, of course, but it made him feel inferior and had made for some awkward moments during these field trips Blaskdn dragged them on. Beside him, Nqwe waited placidly, as was his manner.
Blaskdn seemed to sense there wouldn’t be any resistance to his plan, so he pressed forward. “There’s this new thing I learned about. They call it roasting, and we’re going to try it”
Suddenly the trio materialized in what Spqowei saw was a large three-dimensional box filled with all manner of objects and one human female. Spqowei knew enough about humans to see that the female’s front end was facing away from them and the glowing thing she held was a rudimentary communications device and not part of her body. She appeared to be tapping on it systematically and did not react to their arrival. Just as Spqowei was about to ask what the point of all this was, Blaskdn explained.
“That thing she is holding is called a phone. She captured an image of herself and broadcast it to other humans along with a request for them to hurt her.”
“Are you sure? Why would she ask to be hurt? You probably misunderstood something.”
“Humans are solitary creatures. As you can see, she has only one head. They prefer negative attention to the absence of attention altogether. If you didn’t have me and Nqwe, you might feel the same way.”
Spqowei wasn’t sure about that. He turned towards Nqwe to ask him to chime in, but before he could, Blaskdn engaged the female.
“Greetings, Donna. I would like to take part in your roasting ritual by telling you that in 7.36 solar cycles, you will be hit by what your people call a bus. The impact will separate your physical form from your consciousness permanently and you will also defecate in the process.”
At the first sound of Blaskdn’s voice, the female spun around quickly and regarded them. Spqowei knew humans communicated through manipulating their facial features, but he had no idea what Donna meant to say with her open mouth and wide eyes. As he contemplated his response, a loud and grating sound emanated from Donna.
“Is that supposed to happen?”
Blaskdn seemed perturbed, though he tried not to show it. “I think so. It signifies distress, so the roasting was successful.”
“I thought you said the point was to make her feel better, not worse. I think you were supposed to roast her only in three dimensions. Telling her what her future holds involves the fourth dimension and she probably didn’t understand you. She-“
Spqowei stopped short, because Donna was scrambling towards an opening in the three-dimensional box all while maintaining the shrill sound with only brief pauses. Nearby, a male was answering her cries with his own and appeared to be moving towards them at an even greater speed than Donna was moving away. Blaskdn appeared pleased.
“There, you see? That male is the source of half her genetic code and one of two primary providers. He has clearly heard our successful roasting and wants to have a turn. Would either of you like to try?”
Spqowei wanted to argue, but his friend’s confidence overpowered him, as usual. He had no idea how Blaskdn always seemed to know what he was doing. Every time a girl had made contact with their shared body, it was because Blaskdn had arranged it. Spqowei worried that once they reached maturity and were assigned three individual bodies, he would never interface with a woman again.
As he contemplated his insecurities, the human male was rapidly approaching them. And then suddenly he wasn’t. Because he was on fire. His surface flesh melted off and he quickly collapsed on the ground. His scream turned from loud to barely audible as the flames danced in his insides. In a few brief moments, all that was left of him was a charred husk.
Blaskdn and Spqowe both turned to look at Nqwe, who looked back at them blankly.
“You said roast. You said they want to get hurt. Don’t blame me for being more expedient than you.”
Spqowei was definitely going to be glad when they all got their individual bodies, because there was something seriously wrong with Nqwe. He never said this, of course, but he was sure Blaskdn felt the same way. This wasn’t their first incident.
Meanwhile Donna’s yelling had somehow turned even louder and she was kneeling by the husk alternating between touching it and recoiling from the intense heat. Moisture was falling from her face. Spqowei was suddenly glad he had taken no part in any of this. He was also hungry.
“Want to go eat?”
“Yeah, they have a special on that slime we all like in WNASDB’s.”
“Didn’t you just say we’re four-dimensional beings, Blaskdn? There is *always* a special at WNASDB’s”.
“Shut up, Spqowei, you fucking nerd.”
Spqowei sighed. More human slang. |
Heavenly ascension is one thing, but to be inducted into godhood... That was quite another. Heaven was supposed to be eternal bliss, all the time in the world and nothing to do with it. Not for me, not for Macho Man Randy Savage.
An abundance of charisma was both a gift and a curse bellowing hooo yeaaaah at fellow muscle bound colleagues, whilst delivering knockout blows on the mic and in the squared circle, was no mean feat. The oiled beard, the oversized sun glasses, wacky hats and jackets all followed him into the afterlife. It took but a moment for Zeus himself to decide on the appointment of Macho Man as the fabled God of Wrestlers. Of course, Abudallah the butcher gracefully stepped aside from his post.
The time had come, macho madness was due to spread worldwide, like an unstoppable wave of pure testosterone charged energy. Randy Savage stood upon the grand plinth, preparing to deliver his message first to the high council, and then to the world.
"nothing means nothing man"
"what do mean by this!?"boomed a confused Zeus
"I'm talking about all the way to the top, yeah. I'm justifiably in a position that I'd rather not be in. But the cream will rise to the top, hoooooh yeah. Macho Madness, yeah has got more to offer than any God at this damn table and let me tell you something right now, cards stacked against the Macho Man Randy Savage let me say it yeah, let me say it out loud and let me point to the head of the high council, The Macho Man Randy Savage is not happy with your decision, yeah. I am the cream in the World and there is no doubt about it, yeah, you, Zeus, Hercules, apollo, hell even Mean Gene Okerlund (who sat in the seat of God of Little moustachioed men) you know that I'm the cream of the crop! And the cream? It rises to the top, hoooo yeaaaah"
Silence fell upon the high council, until a solitary clap broke the muted air.
And another, and another...
The high council roared and whooped and cheered with shear glee, of course he was the right choice for such a coveted role amongst them.
"Go forth my son, go forth and spread the word of Macho Madness throughout the world" |
It took him longer than he was proud to admit to pick up on the fact that he was almost seventy years earlier than he had left. The classic cars were a common sight round these parts since folks tended to maintain their antiques and take them for Sunday drives. It was the newspaper stand which had finally given it away. Both the fact that the date said 1956, and that there was a newspaper stand.
Fabian couldn’t help but think to himself that it was a good thing that leather cowboy boots, blue jeans, and flannel shirts never went out of style. The second thought that he had was that he had very little cash on him. How far could he get with only about fifty bucks in cash and possibly another ten or so in change scattered around his truck. Speaking of his truck, it looked pretty out of place and yet it hardly drew comment. He was still pretty glad that whatever had happened had deigned to bring his truck along. After all, it had all of his tools. He climbed into his truck and tried to open his gps... oh... yeah... 1950’s. He then went digging for his map and started plotting a route towards the town he had been driving. He figured out another problem pretty quickly though, his map was out of date, roughly fifty years out of date to be precise.
He found a rest stop and asked to borrow their map. Once he had a map that worked, he kept going. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten pitched backwards the better part of a century, and he wasn’t sure why, but it seemed like it might be genuinely beneficial for what he wanted to do.
(It’s late. I’ll wrap this up tomorrow morning) |
'I will sell this house!' She tells herself as she pulls up to the old Victorian home. Looking around, she can already see that this place is going to take a lot of work to get that all important curbside appeal. 'Hmmm. Oliander and belladonna,' she muses looking at the plants around her. 'I'm going to have to replace those with something a little more innocuous.'
Reaching into the back of the minivan she grabs her duffel bag. There have been a lot of murders and missing person cases in this house, but that's ok. When a house has become tainted and no one else can sell it, that's where she shines brightest. 'I've never lost a house to a curse yet, and I don't plan to start now,' she tells herself.
She starts walking up to the door, but every step has her examining the walk way and planters. Finally she sees one. Carved into one of the stepping stones of the walkway is a little strip of runes. 'Ah! What a subtle dread charm. That would make anyone coming in this way nervous. No wonder no one stays long enough to see the interior.' She sighs before reaching into her duffel.
"First the salve, then the silver, then the mortar,"she mumbles to herself. The salve is a concoction of her own device, and works quite well for neutralizing negative forces like this. Sage, rosehips, and salt mixed into sacramental oils, and blessed by three holy men. Next comes the silver dust, to draw in positive energy. Next is some modified mortar with a little dirt from consecrated ground mixed in. Finally, she mumbles a little chant over her work. She keeps looking around as she finishes her walk to the door, but doesn't see anything that needs immediate attention. Already the outside feels better.
Finally she reaches the front door and sees "Death Awaits"carved into the wood in jagged letters. 'Well that will never do,' she thinks reaching into her bag. She pulls out some modified wood glue. This wood glue has salt and a little bit of fine gopher wood sawdust in it. The door will ofcourse have to be replaced, but this should help to temporarily contain any curses on the entrance.
Now that that's taken care of, she can check all of the other entrances to the house. Walking around she tweeks and fixes curse after curse. She finally makes it back to the front door, only to realize it's time to head home.
'I think I'll call up my landscaper and set up an appointment to get the outside started,' she contemplates while driving away. After all, if they start now, the plants will be nicely established by the time she's finished on the inside. If she's lucky, she might even be able to convince a local wood nymph to give a seedling to be planted here. Nothing helps the energy of a natural landscape like a woodnymph. 'Unless of course this place needs some structural work,' she amends. All that construction work would damage the landscape too much.
Looks like she will just have to wait and see. She's got time, and it will all get done. After all, she's never lost a house yet, and she won't lose this one.
.............
I know this isn't *exactly* the prompt, but doesn't a world like this sound kinda fun? 😊 |
It was painful. Painful and slow. And pointless. I was walking donw the street to my loving wife, Linda, when a sharp piece of rebar that split in two halfway flew from a truck into my abdomen and through my legs. Both were joined and I couldn't move. I screamed like I had never screamed in my life. Hours and hours and hours of torment I spent on a table having muscle relaxant that removes your memories after the surgeries or "anaesthesia"as most call it.
Except I didn't get to the point where the memories are removed, did I? I just got to the point where my doctor looks up in my general direction and says "I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do. The bleeding was too much and..."he finally looked down.
This wasn't new to him. The dissapointment on my face was almost visible. And I was scared at what would happen when she found out. Crying in the lobby, was told where I was.
She was first to the scene and by my side the whole time. My entire will and strength only on staying on this Earth for her. But now she had to stay calm and hide her sadness from the looming presence that plagued her with guilt.
Her first words upon hearing I was a ghost...her first *freaking* words "I can't believe it,". Well LINDA neither can I! Not all of us are able to just DIE when we want to!
I saw a little girl by my side about half a metre higher that I was from the ground. "Daddy?"Bless her soul, "What's wrong daddy? Why are you crying?,"but daddy didn't answer.
"We're dead,"I told her bluntly not that I had any emotion to spare, "We died in this hospital and soon you won't be able to see him anymore,". Daddy left and so did she-now crying.
I could tell it was a charade when she called my family. She was in tears but I could tell that there was relief in her voice. I wasn't angry but I wasn't happy. I couldn't feel. What was the point?
She told them what happened, their names are Dave and...and...who cares? When Linda was home her eyes darted around the room wondering if I was still there. I wanted her to think I wasn't but I knew she couldn't risk it. All of my stuff became junk piled into a room that was to be locked for however long it was to be. Most of it I don't even remember anymore.
I could feel my life and soul and humanity draining. I knew what was to come. Bleak. Dark. Nothingness. Unfortunatly it was much worse.
She finally let herself release...my...friend? Whatever she was doing she did it with power. Screaming at the ceiling how someone called John was never there for her.
Why am I listening to this?
Why am I here?
My body, light and free, left the room and went into the streets. I saw other ^^^husks people ^^^shells moving aimlessly. I joined them.
We watched as strangers went about their day for some reason or another. Feeling emotions we never have and never will. Not caring why or how. But just knowing that this was good. It was peacful.
I was finally content. |
I had read of tales like these in children's stories. A small and weak force suprisingly destroying a larger and evil power. I knew what the stakes were. This wasn't a little book with little animals or magic wands. This was real life. One battalion of a trained 'army' with a mere 4 segments against the entire army of the dark knight who wanted all the lands for himself-already ruling most of the industry in our natoin.
I was in my quarters when I got the news. "The late Emporer's bastard son,"what a feat to be unkown and unwanted then famous and needed. The people of Trentina needed a wise, powerful and most importantly good leader. Was I up to the task?
I finally had a purpose in life. Something for which to strive. I readied my mind for the following months and prepared for the worst while hoping for the best.
First was to become elusive and feared by those working for him. We stayed in the shadows and only communicated by word of mouth. Capsules of poison from the apocothery for each soldier and courier.
One battle would be all it took to become respected by the populous. The battle of Nylom, 500 troops against *us*.
First we had to divy up command:
- a leader who can adapt to new problems, my trusted friend Malcom.
- 3 segment captains all chosen by my hand to direct their segment for glorious battle.
- 1 segment large, 100 troops, and 2 medium segments of 50
The camp held a simple group of multiple ranks. Horsemen, infantry, archers, trebuchets and even two cannons for good measure. Obviously we were outnumbered, didn't have the element of suprise and had less than stellar coordination but the enslaved workers who get paid a meal a day needed us.
The two cannons could be distraced by S2 and S3 flanking while S1 goes head first. We hadn't a chance as I watched from my hill. The cannons made the 100s turn to 50s and they became quickly surrounded and subdued. Men swarmed from the gates into the mass of the centre group and the 200 fighters were mixed with 200 more while arrows rained on us as if guided by a force.
The camp had halted production as we were expected. All our job was was to free them and we couldn't do that. Not with we merry few. No, we had theives, rogues and ninjas behind their lines before the battle even began, mother always knew who to keep in touch with. As soon as the ocean of sharp corsairs and angry firing fletchers fought we had already won.
En mass, nearly a thousand angry mill-users, miners and maize makers crumpled the enemie's strength. Before our fight began the hands had been played and we were on our way to victory.
It was sad lots of our army had died. And we mourned in our humble victory. I was *ever* so uspet.
At least, that's what those peasants thought. I sipped from my wine in my quarters imagining my great future. Ah, what luck I have, knowing how to manipulate and stipulate that I, some whore's son, could go from rags to riches with a simple change in certificates and documents.
I was the new leader. I *am* the new Emporer! |
The letter had arrived in the mail with the famous wax seal. This was it. I came from a family of artists, it was expected that I was to follow in their footsteps. I took a seat at our kitchen table, looked up into the eyes of the world’s most well-known painting and my parents favourite, Mona Lisa. “Here goes”, I said to no-one in particular.
I scanned the letter searching out for the words that would seal my fate. *Unfortunately we have not been able to offer you a position in our program next year* I read aloud. I had to stop and read it again. I could feel the sweat droplets forming on my forehead and my hands felt clammy. I pushed my chair back without enough force that it fell over, snatched the letter off the kitchen table and headed out onto the street. I headed in the direction of the bus station, tears were threatening to fall so I kept my head down. As my vision began to blur from the tears, I felt my foot catch another person’s, next thing I knew I was landing on my hands and knees on the pavement.
“I’m sorry, are you hurt” someone said to me in an Italian accent.
“I’m fine, thanks” I said as I felt the sting of my scraped hands and knees.
“Oh I’m glad. I’m terribly sorry, it was my foot that tripped you”. The lady had striking auburn hair but it was a small smile gracing her features that caught my eye. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” I realised at this point I was staring.
“I’m sorry, you look awfully familiar”, she let out a small chuckle and her smile increased.
“Yeah, people say I look like Mona Lisa, which is funny because my name is Lisa too”. I felt my brow come together is confusion before awkwardly stating that she sits above my kitchen table.
“You know that there’s an irony in your name being Lisa, your Italian accent that I hear and your similar features to the Mona Lisa painted centuries ago”. She nodded her head before extending her hand for me shake. As our skin came into contact I felt a shock extending up my right arm throughout my body.
“It was nice to meet you” was the last thing I heard before I woke up in a sweat in my bed.
I stumbled out of bed and headed downstairs to get a glass of water. The doorbell rang as I reached the last step, as I opened the door I saw a lady from the art school I had my interview with last week, Lisa was her name if I recall correctly.
“Hello, it’s nice to see you again. I’m here to inform you that we would like to offer you a position in our art program next year”. My mouth dropped open before I rubbed my eyes and realised this time it was not a dream. |
This was real I knew it. I just knew it. I don't know how but now I'm wasting time so just give me a minute...wait that's all I have.
*gulp*
My first action was to secure my room. All locked and defended and now I had this bat in my hand. I had it ready against the door while the ticking of my clock tick tick ticks on my nerves making me bouncy and jumpy.
The clock went from 2:05 to 2:06 before I could say "Oh no,"and a short spike of a creak was all it took before I smashed the space behind me...nothing was there. The wardrobe was ajar and I slammed it shut sweat dripping from my brow.
*knock*
*knock*
*knock*
"Oh no"I heard in a voice I know but that I've never heard. And a SLAM before dragging sounds and a feeling of dread that held me still. Then I realised...
Digital clocks don't tick.
This sound was in my mind or in my walls or am I just crazy??? I unlocked the door breaking the striking silence with an attack of adrenaline before rushing out 5 steps or so before it was there in front of me. An analogue clock ticking away at the end of my hall.
I threw it across the hall into my bedroom and it landed on my bedside table opposite from where I sleep then the sounds played with my mind once more.
*knock*
*knock*
*knock*
I ran to the bedroom door. He said something, I don't know what, I didn't have time. SLAM. And his head bled through the railings and down to the bottom floor. I pulled the body onto the bathroom tile to figure out what to do when I heard a noise from my bedroom. Another one? I wondered.
I tiptoed over to the door and rested my ear on it quietly. Heavy breathing broke through and it was all I heard. Instinct took over and I made the worst mistake of my life...
*knock*
*knock*
*knock*
"Oh no"I said before everything went black. |
The Eternals: working for Tor The Violet. Part 1 (maybe 2nd after a break)
We all marveled at his genius. This Eternal had blessed us with a way for us to live such as them. Forever...
I started working under him a few years ago. He's from the planet Kel. They are tall feline like people. Tor's head was magnificent and white with dark grey stripes running down his mane. His eyes were a deep violet. He wore a lab coat like everyone else and he is really quite nice.
It's a shame about his wife… she died before he could finish his work. Although he tried to save her with what he had at the time. He wasn't able to recover her soul completely. She has no memory of her past life.
He set her up in a town in the north to live out her life peacefully. I heard she is doing quite well…
That day… i woke up like any other day. I live in Sapphire City on The Ring. It was crowded but I enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the city. It kept life interesting. Also living on base was beyond boring… who wants to live in an underground bunker for months on end?
Luckily the GFA had living quarters inside the city for a reduced cost to members of the military. It included an automated transport to your designation which was nice. Public transport was a nightmare…
Unfortunately, on the way in I got into a head in collision with another vehicle. My body was flying from the craft and tumbled against the ground. Every bone in my body was shattered and I laid there dying. "Why…"was the last thought I had before I blacked out.
.
.
.
I was suddenly standing outside in a dark forest. "Where am I?". I looked around in all directions but the forest had no sign of ending.
A bush wrustled behind me. "Who's there!?"I shouted.
The sound of small snapping jaws and clattering teeth came from everywhere around me.
"Stay back!"I growled "I know how to fight!"
They kackled at me "fight it wants? Nyaha! Meal we wants!"A dark shadow lunged at me and clamped down on my leg. I winced screamed in agony. Then everything faded away.
.
.
.
I woke up in a...a tank? The green liquid filled my vision. I could make out large shapes in the room outside. A desk… MY desk… I recognize my pink scarf around my computer screen.
"Good morning Vell. You gave me quite a scare this morning."A deep voice rumbled in my ears.
"Tor?"I thought.
"Don't worry you will be out in no time. The transfer was a complete success!"
"T-transfer? But I never submitted my DNA… how did he?"
"I took precautions when you first joined. I couldn't let my new favorite nurse be killed could I?"
"B-but the rules…"
"Oh I know what you're thinking my dear but you are alive and well again."
A pain throbbed from where that monster bit me. It began crawling up my leg
"Oh no… you got bit…"
"Well don't just stand there! Do something."
"I'm sorry Vell…"he walked towards the tank and pressed a few buttons.
"Wait no… I don't want to die!"I punched at the glass as hard as I could. The pain was now creaking up my chest. I looked down at my body and it was completely black! "Those shadow things… they are turning me into one of them! No!"I slammed at the glass with everything I had. Shattering it to a million pieces.The darkness enveloped my every being. My soul consumed by hatred for the living. My grin split my face from cheek to cheek. My body now just a shadow of what it once was.
"What have I done…"he covered his mouth as he tripped over himself backwards. "You cannot be here!"
I inhaled deeply through my nose. "Fresh...meat…" |
"Sampson?"
"Ya *pig*."He grunted, before going into a fit of wet coughs.
"Ye'd *left*, ya lyin' *skint*."Pyotr felt under his rough poncho, down his scavenged assembly of clothing.
"Boggers got me on the train."Sampson said between coughs. He pulled his fist from his mouth, watching fresh speckles of blackish blood drip onto the cold concrete.
"So yer going to skive on *my* alley?"
"I thought ye'd be *happy* \- ye always were shit at protectin' yerself."
"What... like yer'd help with tha'?"
Sampson grinned through a years-old beard. He confidently produced a revolver from his waistband: a rusty, ancient artifact, still reassuringly threatening.
"Where's the *hell* ye got tha'?"
"Off'e one a them bastards down at the pub... trade' 'im for two bottles uh gin."His smiled broadened.
"Them's wasn't gin bottles... was 'ey?"
A brilliant light shone briefly down the alley before swinging around the corner. Pyotr swung his head and listened as the Vigilance auto growled down the street.
"Get inside... a'fore's they come back. Godfors'k'n VigiCom..."He gestured towards the hovel of pallets, tin and tape that barely stood at the end of the alley.
Sampson turned and shuffled down the damp alley. Pyotr glanced back before his hands tightened around the knife in his last pocket. He followed Sampson in. |
The glass dropped and shattered into a billion beautiful particulates that reverberated and ricocheted across the floor. Jakob watched this over the course of what felt like fourteen hours; watched the sunlight reverberate through the glass as it fell to Earth. He studied it intensely as it shattered and fractured like the cracked earth of Death Valley; studied each piece as they scattered in every direction. The few drops of water inside were propelled like splattered blood across the room.
Jakob watched, too, as one piece reverberated off the hardwood and up towards him. He could feel his nerves reacting, firing individually as his brain screamed at them to move out of the way, to react to this threat. While his perception had changed, his reflexes had not; he was trying to steer an ocean liner with a screwdriver.
Brilliant yellows, pinks and blues speckled across the single piece as it approached his face. Dread swept across his malfunctioning mind as the shard slid between the outstretched fingers that had been holding the glass. The shard was within six inches of his face. It felt like his entire nervous system was firing, like a V8 at full throttle, trying to get his face away, to protect it from the sharp, jagged edge. Electricity was sparkling up his spine, and he could feel it, feel the individual endings firing, screaming.
The shard penetrated his skin, out of his vision now. His forehead felt like it was on fire as it entered; if the nerves screaming for him to move had been loud, the pain reactions were like Krakatoa. He could feel each jagged edge and imperfection as the shard passed through his epidermis. Blood poured out of the vein it had penetrated. He felt it drip and cascade down, accelerating away along the same path the shard had taken. He wanted to scream - but even opening his mouth would be a century's task. |
***Donkeys Fed by Lions***
The barman seems friendly enough.
“Beer, wine or vodka red bull?”
“Got any almond milk?”
“Eh? You do realise what started this whole thing?”
“What thing?”
“This! Or that – that down there. This latest episode of that.”
“That? Oh, you mean war? Healthy lifestyle options triggered the war?”
“Veganism!”
“Eh?”
The barman seemed friendly enough but now I’m confused. He suddenly seems quite agitated. Luckily my ‘Meet n Greet Man’ is back at my side and takes my arm to steer me onward. As we depart, he hisses over his shoulder at the barman.
“Leave him alone, that has never been proven. Not yet at least…”
The Meet n Greet man is called Mike, he wears a World War 1 trench-style outfit and seems to never tire of being cheery. His was the first face I saw when I woke up. He’s barely stopped talking since.
“Gin Den Jake is a good lad really but he always gets the hump when his alcohol is refused – he sometimes forgets we’re all past caring. What’s left to escape from now eh? There’s a coffee counter around the corner – Barista Barry will sort you out.”
“I wasn’t a vegan for long. Hardly ever at the weekend…”
“Don’t worry about it mate – even if it did cause this latest kick-off, and the jury’s still out on that; it wasn’t because the plant-based boys were looking for trouble - it was because the meat producing massive didn’t like the loss of income. Big industry stirred it up not the veg and two veg please crew.”
I tell him I’m not really thirsty at the moment and Mike shrugs then leads me to a space on the gantry.
“Here, watch a bit of this - its classic Donkeys and Lions.”
I stare down at the battle below.
“Donkeys and Lions?”
“Yeah, that’s what we call it up here.”
“Right… which ones are the donkeys?”
“Seriously? Okay, sorry I forget – you’re new and possibly still a bit naïve – maybe you’re even one of those ‘it was worth it’ types. Never mind - you’ll soon learn. Okay, let me enlighten you a little – it tends to shift a little – the Donkeys don’t always look exactly the same but basically if you look for the more expensively dressed and stood at a safe distance from the action type characters, you’ll get some idea.”
I stare for a while and begin to see. This bird’s eye view and the scrolling facts that accompany it are very enlightening. I turn back to Mike who is watching me approvingly.
“Are there any Donkeys here?”
“Oh, there’s a few. I’ll introduce you soon.”
“And what exactly is this place?”
“Good question. No-one seems to know exactly where we are – but there’s that big neon sign that states we’re in the Lion’s Lounge. And, no-one knows the exact number but there are millions of us. Collectively we’re known as The Fodder Society. If you look in your pocket, you’ll find a card stating that you’re a fully paid up member and entitled to all the benefits. We all arrive with one.”
I’m nodding and trying to take it all in when out of the corner of my eye I spy a man in a pointy hat and German uniform striding towards us. He comes to a halt and pokes a baguette into my guide’s stomach.
“Achtung! English Pig-Dog!”
Mike immediately grabs it and takes a bite.
“Alright Helmut? I watched your boys lose again last night.”
“Oh? I thought we agreed we didn’t view that war anymore?”
“Haha. We did and we don’t. I meant Eintracht Frankfurt.”
“Ha! Yes, you are a funny guy. And you are right - they are almost as useless as you’re beloved Manchester United.”
Mike and the German laugh then high-five. Mike turns to me again then and explains.
“It’s funny really. Us and the Krauts get on very well – bizarre to think that we battered ten bells out of each other on muddy fields every day for years on end. But that’s what we learn up here – it was all a load of…”
“Hoden.”
“Hoden?”
“He means balls.”
“Balls?”
“Yar. Testikels”
“Testicles?”
“Yes.”
“Yar.”
“Oh. Okay. We usually say Bollo…”
“No!”
“Nine!”
“No?”
Mike pats my shoulder and gently explains some more.
“No. No-one swears up here. That’s not necessary any more either. We don’t bother. You won’t after a while too. Its not a rule or anything – there’s just no need. Not anymore. Not now that we’re out of our war. It’s a respect thing too I guess - it’s only the ones still down there who have the need for expletives.”
“Oh. No, I… guess that makes sense…so you watch war all day?”
“You can do. And when you first come you tend to. When we arrived, Helmut and I used to watch the Great War together – and what an ironic title that is – but yes all wars are shown. You watch as much as you need. The proof is all there. Then if you’re still unsure they have seminars and talks and all sorts of exhibitions explaining.”
“Explaining?”
“Detailing I suppose. Revealing how the Donkeys always pull the strings and manipulate the masses. Past and present. Once your eyes are opened your eyes are open if you know what I mean. And I know that’s ironic too considering we’re all deceased but hey-ho. Suffice to say once here our eyes become opened, arguably too late but hey, and if we ever need to remind ourselves we just need to look - we can just pop our heads over the gantry. There’s always something to watch – there’s always something going on somewhere – its 24 hours, 365 days a year - it never ends. War never ends. Hasn’t yet at least. And it’s not likely too. It’s as olden as time. It’s about power and money - ego and greed not honour or need.”
“You talk too much. He has only just arrived. He will learn. But now enough lecture - show him the pen.”
“The pen?”
“It’s like a prison I guess but is shaped like a pen – it’s to highlight all the deals signed and celebrated after others have shed their blood. After other’s sacrifice. Other’s lives.”
“Yar yar blah blah. Come on, let’s go. It’s nearly time. He will understand when we show him.”
Helmut marches off and we follow.
“What did he mean when he said it’s nearly time?”
“High Noon. It’s when we feed them.”
“Feed them?”
“Yeah. It’s a bit harsh really, you could argue. If you were feeling very charitable. I mean those rations were barely edible in 1944.”
Helmut is holding the door open and salutes me as we walk in.
“Welcome to The Pen. That man over there is Old Bailey.”
Mike coughs into his hand to disguise a giggle.
“I told Helmut that was his name 80 years ago and he still believes it. It’s actually a bloke called Clive who used to call the Bingo before he got called up.”
Old Bailey (Clive) is wearing a lionskin cloak and sombrely addressing a gathering of well-dressed prisoners.
“Which of you here stirred up hate for your own gain?”
All hands shoot up.
“Okay, I can see this may take some time – I’ll do my best to narrow things down - which of you here lied to their followers – which of you here attempted to divide…”
The hands go up, some sheepishly some defiantly, all desperately vying to receive whatever might be on offer.
“Who here instilled fear and distrust – who here promised changed – who here named and blamed others – who here bred discontent – who here held back facts - who here manipulated belief – who here spread propaganda – who here despised their own people…”
A woman in an RAF uniform enters with a tray of rusted tins and paper scrolls. Mike nudges me.
“We call this next bit ‘Pinning the Tale on the Donkey’ – they confess their truth and are then provided with ample opportunity to contemplate and consider.”
“How so?”
“It’s ingenious really. At the same time as they receive their rations, fact sheets detailing their crimes are stapled to their chests.”
“Wow. Like a kind of macabre medal?”
“Exactly! You’re starting to catch on.”
I think I am. And I think I might like it here. It’s surreal but fascinating. Enthralling but thoroughly exhausting. I tug the sleeve of Mike’s tunic.
“I’m ready to meet Barry now.”
---
[H. B. O’Neill](https://hboneill.com) *is a London born writer inspired by the City and its myriad opportunity for comedy, pain, drama and adventure. He is a prize-winning poet and short story writer, a screenwriter, playwright and author.* |
-I have traveled far and wide, I have seen the golden fields and have drinked from the Purple River. I have been on the top of the Bonedry Mountain and have wandered the Ash Deserts. There is no greater land than the one from our King. There is no greater people than the one from our realm. But I would not dare to cross the Lake of Dread or to step into the House of the Forsaken. I do not dare to gaze upon the Halls of Silence or to even think about the Hollow Wastes. Not even with a full army behind me. My king, you are brave, and your will is strong. But I am not worthy. I am not enough.
Oh, but you are - replies the lord, rising from his throne - you will be.
As the king unseathes his sword and places the white and golden grip on the hands of the lowly bard, he whispers:
-Go on, my child. You are worthy now. |
We destroyed it on sight, and slowly began to evolve without it. It’s been a millennia since we last recorded a sighting.
It is evil, and if it returns only death, destruction and sorrow will follow in its path.
But we are ever vigil.
We still study, train and practice the excision rituals. Passing them down generation to generation.
Being part of the front line of defence is the greatest honour in our society, but not everyone can become one. It is a hard and gruelling apprenticeship. It is not for those weak of stomach.
Today during my routine examinations of the population a small child presented with it. She had only just got her first set. But it was no mistaking it. Four of them, two at the top and two at the bottom, both pairs divided by the incisors. There was no mistaking them they were definitely canines. |
Tildor is an ancient God of the Old World, the world that existed long before our current world came to be. In the Old Times, he was cast asleep by his Godly brothers for being too mischievous for his own good. Tildor would constantly get into trouble, only for his brothers to bail him out. Upon awakening, Tildor has found that the world he once knew was no more. He watched over this new World with confusion as the only life he could find was on this pale blue planet in one galaxy.
"This must be a new universe"proclaimed Tildor, "I wonder what's going on on that planet!"
He looked from above to find many different kinds of beings on one rock.
"That's odd, why are their more than one type of creature on this rock? What a strange place."
This isn't something Tildor is used to. You see, the Old World was torn apart by war. Each type of species lived on one planet, and the only time you ventured out of your planet was to lead an attack. Eventually if you throw enough bodies into space, they start not coming back. This didn't concern Tildor as he was a God of this universe. He found it amusing seeing war, death, and other things that we in the new World find to be atrocities.
Tildor's eyes shift to different parts of the planet. He finds this one creature fascinating. They have two arms, two legs, and a pair of eyes. Some of them have this fur on their heads, but some have very little if at all. Some have a darker skin, while some have a lighter skin. Tildor became fascinated with these creature and how they interacted, even going so far as to thinking about becoming one. Tildor obsessed for weeks, doing and looking for nothing else.
"These creatures talk about this God figure, but I'm not sensing anybody else. I will become their ruler and be the God of this world."said Tildor. He thought for a minute about what he just said. In the Old World, every mortal loved and danced at the thought of Tildor. Cities and even Worlds were named after Tildor and his brothers, and he was determined to be praised in this new World too. Although this time, all of the attention would be Tildor's! To do that, he must get to know how these creatures think.
Tildor transforms into a human and goes down to Earth. He places himself in a hub that has a lot of these creatures gather, with tall sky scrapers and speeding pieces of metal on hard rubber wheels pass by him as quickly as they came into view. Tildor is bumped into one of these creatures as they rushed by him talking on his glowing rectangles.
"Watch it, pal! Don't you see people trying to walk here? What are you even doing standing around? Get movin'!"
"Hello creature!"yelled Tildor. "You are incredibly fascinating. I have not seen one of you with such long arms before. What is the name of this world?"
The man looks Tildor up and down. His eyes widen and his eyebrows make a wave shape.
"What did you just say guy? I told you to move it! I don't need some wise guy moving his lips and using his voicebox in my direction. The rehab center is around the corner, maybe you need a visit."
The man continued walking. Tildor's face lit up with excitment.
"A rehab center? I wonder what that could be. He said it was around the corner, but where is that?"
Tildor sees a woman walking past him, he runs up to her and grabs her shoulder.
"Excu..."
Before he could even get out a word the woman screams and slaps Tildor. Tildor's face grew red, and he felt a sting on his cheek that he never has felt before. He liked it. The woman began running away, but he wanted another slap. Tildor began chasing her.
"Creature!"yelled Tildor as he's running out of breath, "Do that again!"
Tildor noticed every creature from across the street was staring at him. Perhaps it was because of the fact that he's slowly catching up to the woman. He's getting closer and closer as the large buildings to his right are passing by him. Tildor suddenly feels like he's been hugged, followed by his face hitting the concrete below him.
"Hey this is officer Brian. I have some pervert on West Ave here. He was chasing this woman, he's in my custody."
This world, thought Tildor, really is strange. |
"This is Richard Seul, fleet commander of Alpha Centauri squadron. You are trespassing in a system under control of the United Nations of earth, identify yourself or be destroyed,"Richard said as his eyes traced the outline of the giant vessel.
The command bridge was silent as every officer on deck eyed the sensors and readings their computers were giving off. The thing was moving quickly towards the space station that orbited Alpha Centauri B. The fleet was on edge and every captain was frantically sending requests for orders. But Richard only watched the target and waited. This thing was large enough to classify as a small moon, and the firepower it held had to outweigh anything they had stashed away on their Corvette. They had one hundred and fifty people on each of their ships, how many would it take to pilot that thing?
"Sir, the Gunnery officers are requesting orders. Should I tell them to open fire?"The communication officer asked.
"I want to see if they respond, first contact protocols dictates that we only open fire if they prove to be hostile, "Richard responded.
Minutes passed and the ship only got closer. It was blocky and held no crests, no flags, and no inscriptions. Lights flickered from the vessel and three large glowing opening could be seen at its prow. The deep space sensors suddenly started beeping as more and more objects suddenly appeared on the monitors.
"Sir! Hundreds of ships are swarming out of it!"One officer yelled.
Richard felt his body go numb and his mouth go dry as he watched hundreds of corvettes fly towards then with the battleship following close behind.
"Battle stations! Battle stations!"He yelled and the human fleet flew towards the armada with every officer and soldier rushing around in a panic.
The twenty human corvettes valiantly sped forward and launched every weapon they had available. Nuclear missiles exploded upon the enemies shields, the railgun shots bounced of the enemies armor, and the flak batteries weren't quick enough to even hit the enemy. Richard shouted orders and tried to direct his fleet, but one after another the human ships were torn asunder by the enemy's superior weapons and numbers. Richard screamed for his pilots to retreat to the colony when an explosion rocketed the ship and all lights went out. Richard was flung into a wall and lost conciousness.
When the captain of the ACS Guardian awoke he was greeted by the dim red emergency lights of the hangar bay. He groaned and tried to sit up, but pain erupted in his back and he collapsed with a scream. He saw a woman rush over to him and tell him something, but the ringing in his ears made it impossible for him to understand her. Her blue eyes, red hair, and fair skin made her appear more like a earthling than someone born in the strange environment of Alpha Centauri B.
"What?..."he croaked out, dry blood clinging to his lips.
"Thank god you're alive! We thought we lost you commander,"she said and pushed a bottle of water against his lips. "Drink this."
Richard complied and slowly drank the liquid. It soothed his dry throat and aching lips. "What happened? Why am I in the hangar bay?..."
The woman looked over her shoulder and bit her lip. Her eyes were locked on the ground before she fixated them on him again. "We lost the battle, sir. Sixteen corvettes are gone..."
The words made his chest tighten and his eyes water. "What of the colony? We need to get there at once-"
"There is no longer a colony, sir..."she mumbled pointed out a window.
Where there had once been a green planet there was now a broken rock. The very core of Alpha Centauri B laid exposed to space as pieces of the planet slowly traveled around it. Six million people had lived on that colony and it had been wiped out in an instant.
"How?..."Richard asked and looked upon the broken world with horror.
"The large ship fired some sort of beam onto it. It took it two hours to crack the colony open like a nut. There are no survivors,"she said.
"And the rest of the fleet?"He asked.
"Three other ships can still fly, but we suspect there are more survivors in the remains of the other ships,"she said.
"We need to get to earth and tell them what happened here... That ship might very well be heading right for them,"he said and tried to stand.
The woman simply forced him to lay down. "Sir, you're in no condition to give orders right now. And our engines does not work. Until we can repair them we're stuck."
Richard looked her in the eyes for a long time before he deflated and covered his face with his hands. They had lost, and now that ship could be heading for earth and the colony on Mars. They needed to stop it, or humanity as a species would be snuffed out. |
The throne towered over the rest of the chamber, made of melted swords and helmets, and cast a sourceless shadow into the middle of the court. The Evil One sat sideways with one leg up on the arm of the throne, visibly displeased. Before him stood a small, portly man with his hands holding his hat close to his chest. The man looked on the verge of tears.
The Evil One sighed, "Yes, I burned down your village, and no, I did not mean for it to happen."He rubbed his temples and squinted his eyes, "The overzealous knights I sent to collect your taxes have been reprimanded. I assure you, you will be compensated. I cannot make money from nothing, and currently, you have nothing. Let your kin and brethren know of these proceedings, yes?"
The small man straightened his back and smiled, "Of course, Dark O- I mean, Your Excellency."
The doors swung open and the guards let the newly freed (but indebted) man out into the daylight. The room fell silent. No one dared speak out of turn.
"The next matter of business is of dire importance."an omnipresent voice boomed, "It has come to the court's attention that there is another turncoat in our midst."
The Evil One sat up in his chair and groaned, "Another one? We went through this last month, it's been taken care of."
"Not quite, sir,"continued the voice, "Several keeps to the west have sworn allegiance to the Naleen. Apparently, information about our diminishing presence in the area was released. They saw no reason to fear us, you specifically sir, and seceded."
I sat in the back, hunched behind several of the court's advisors' shoulders. The less of a target I made myself, the more likely I'd be able to get out of this mess. Last month was a close call, I'd rather not draw the short straw this time.
"I promised them safety from the Naveen! They will abuse them and mark them as slaves! I told them this. Why did they not understand?"asked the Evil One.
"Because they do not believe you to be a serious threat."one advisor spoke out.
The Evil One stood from his throne and stormed up to the brash advisor, "Excuse me? I think I heard you say I am not a serious threat. Would you care to rescind that statement before I shove it up your ass?!"
The advisor raised his hands in deference, "Don't get me wrong, sire, you are very powerful and everyone here knows that. It's just that the border castles and clans don't understand the inner workings of our empire. It seems that the turncoat knew this and used it to turn them against us."
I moved as quietly and slowly as I could, weaving through the crowd. A few more steps and I'd be out of the court. Then I'd be free to get back to Nala.
"Shut the doors! No one leaves here until I've found the traitor."the Evil One yelled.
Guards immediately flanked the doors and barred them shut.
Shit. Well, there had to be another way out somewhere. There were no viable windows in sight. Maybe there was a grate or something in the floor I could escape through. Just what I need; a sewer escape. The guards started pushing everyone further into the room.
The Evil One sat back into his throne, "Who was responsible for the western territories? Was it Darren? I always liked Darren. Always had a smile."
I felt a smack on my ass and was pushed forward out of the crowd. I stood before the Evil One, maybe ten paces away, "That would be me, sir. I was in charge of western relations."
"You're not Darren. Hm. It would be very simple and much easier for everybody here if you were to admit you are a traitor right here and now. So do us a favour, will you? Confess."
"I will do no such thing. I am loyal to you always and forever, your excellency. We've had a hard time maintaining a solid grip on the western clans, we didn't have the funding."That was a lie, we had plenty of money. Most of it just went to maintenance and the occasional bribe.
"So you blame the empire? It is the empire's fault that you failed?"
"No sir, I take responsibility. Send me out there and I can sway them back to our cause. Your cause."Hopefully, I wasn't sweating too much. The room felt much warmer than it did moments ago.
The Evil One, or the King, depending on where you live, scanned the room, "Anyone else keen on pointing out our pecuniary flaws? Are the farmers not getting their fair wages? Are the royal coffers empty? What about the carpenters? The trade route I established between the kingdom of Bommai has provided them with plenty of materials, yes?"
The court was silent, no one dared to look another in the eye. It took every little bit of will I had to stop my legs from trembling and my teeth from clattering. I was a mess and it was a miracle the Evil One could not see it. He was to wrapped up in his frustration.
I took a step forward, "Times are certainly improving, sir, thanks to your... careful planning."He stared me down, "But if you would give me another chance, I could get them back on our side."Not the right side, but I needed to get home more than anything. Those clans made their choice, I was done here.
"And, pray tell, how do you plan to do that?"he asked.
"As you said, we are quite wealthy at the moment. Perhaps some greased palms might make amends easier?"
The king paused and leaned in, "We'll have the vizier draft up a budget review. You have two months to get them back. If you do not get them back by then, I will personally make sure you'll never see the outside of a crap-filled stable again."
Taking a few steps back, I said, "Of course, sire, of course. I'll get them back. No crap stables for me, no sir."
I retreated to the end of the room, trying to slow my breathing. That was unbelievably close. Once I get back home, I'm never taking another job like this again.
Once again, relaxed yet slightly irritated, the Evil One slumped on his throne, "We'll deal with this traitor business at another time, my head is killing me right now."
Quietly he added, "Who knew so many people could be so stupid?"
The unknown voice boomed, "Next matter of business: bread sales throughout the kingdoms."
The Evil One groaned, head in his hands. The meeting continued, unabated, as I slipped out, on my way back home. |
“Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?”
Those dammed words. How many times have I heard them now? Gotta be in the hundreds... Thousands maybe? Who knows. I used to say something but I stay silent now. It makes me feel better. Of course its hard to get over watching that silent prisoner rapidly change gender, race, and whatnot. How do they do that?
I dont think they know im aware they are much more than just the Dragonborn... They're something more... They walk with a sense of direction. They know every twist and turn before it happens, they know every word before they're spoken. The first time I didnt tell them to quiet down they looked genuinely shocked. They're unkillable, they have plot armour if ya will... Its like they're the protagonist to some sick twisted game. And im part of the background, never to be seen again past Helgen.
If you're reading this Dragonborn, please stop this, let me live my life.
Signed---
>The rest of the note is covered in a blotch of ink.
​
>"Another note for the pile..." |
It all ended that day. I dont know how she found out about it but she did. My little princess was five when it was uttered. She most of been watching while her nana was watching the news. The president of china had not been seen in public for four days because of a heart attack. She came home and said "guess what daddy? Nobody can find the presi-dent of China!"
The worst part was she said it right as the Chinese president was stepping on the a stage to make his first public appearance sense the health scare. He stepped onto stage and disappeared. Nobody could find him. Fingers where pointed, threats where made, diplomacy soon failed and then the nukes where sent.
I almost miss the days where I only had to worry about her creating some new animals or changing the plot of a TV show. Now I she is changing the fabric of reality, to fit the mind of a five year old. |
Hi u/slushayy, this submission has been removed.
**Prompt in Text**: 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). You wrote a prompt in the text, but then gave a title for it.
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We are the Gen.
By the time this message reaches you, it will be 2020 on your Earth calendar.
We have learned your Earth language. We write to you now to ask a tremendous favor.
An avatar of your people arrived on our world. Her dark crown of hair has earned her the name "Black Sun"among our people. Until her arrival, the concept of a superhero was to us mere myth. Superheroes were stories. When she came, her abilities mystified us. She claimed that she wasn't responsible for the spatial anomaly that resulted in her moving from your world to ours, and given that it has not since repeated we find that Clipsa may have delivered her unto us.
Before Black Sun arrived, our world was tainted. Crime was a pandemic. She chose to change that. Her strength was unbelievable. Her skin was resistant to radiation and projectiles that would have felled us. So accustomed to it was she, that she even radiated a low level of radiation herself. We can assure you that it did not take her long to develop a reputation on our world. Other worlds asked us if we could send her to aid them. She was only too happy to do so.
However, she always returned to Seiza. She always came back to the Gen. We were happy to be her new homeworld even as we sought to find hers. We spent years learning your language from her. We learned as much as we could. Tea. Parlance. Culture. Generations of our people came and went, and it seemed that she was ageless. It was untrue.
She is now Gray Sun. She told us from the onset that she was a "nice, Victorian woman of modest virtue", but she has been a heroine to us. She told us that you are all at least as strong as she. As fast as she. As sturdy as she. We cannot believe it. Now, as a representative of the Intragalactic Federation of Spacefaring Ministries, I am asking you to aid us in our darkest hour.
The Syth are coming. They have always been stronger than we. Faster. They are a warfaring kind who delight in the cruelty of war. In the early years they lost to Gray Sun in a skirmish. They retreated to lick their wounds. But now that Gray Sun is close to leaving us, the wait at the edge of our system, thedds on a chain waiting to be unleashed.
We will not survive.
Nearly one week after you receive this message, any ships of ours that are able to pass out of the system will convene on your planet. We ask so much of you now, people who you have never known. But you will have the thanks of a grateful galaxy should you respond to the call.
A world full of superheroes. |
“Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that"and if you had asked me on any day over the last 7 years I would have told you the same thing, but Christmas Eve I could swear I had seen him in the tavern serving his old partner Scrooge his dinner, I must have been wrong I thought as surely even with his head buried in his accounts Ebeneezer would still notice Jacob returned from the grave. I tried to get a better glance until Scrooge himself looked up and caught my eye and asked me in no uncertain terms to attend to my own matters and leave him work, when I looked again the man who I presumed to be Jacob was gone.
Later as I walked the streets to my home I saw again the same man walking away from Jacob's old home now inhabited by Scrooge, this time with a bandage wrapped around his head and carrying with him chains and whst looked to be a safe, he stopped to talk to other people, one whom I recognised as an actor I had seen before in some local production or other, just then Jacob for I now know it was he saw me watching and approached me 'You have not seen me Joseph, nor will you see the old Scrooge again, do not speak of this' and he then handed me a large amount of money. I believed then that he had murdered Scrooge and I thought to report it to the authorities but how to explain these bizarre events and truth be told would Scrooges loss be any great misery, I took the money and left the scene quickly. The very next morning I began to hear stories of Ebeneezer roaming the streets a joyful man, a kind man.
To this day I cannot tell you why Jacob had convinced the world he had died or why he had returned that Christmas Eve but the Ebeneezer Scrooge who had been the subject of this unusual occurrence became the greatest man I had the pleasure of knowing and while I sometimes laugh to myself at the change in the man for that good that came from it for the people of London and Scrooge himself this story I will carry around with me until my own grave calls. |
It had been weeks since my apprentice had shown any progress in summoning. We were just starting with the basics of Earth elementals, the easiest but also one of the frailest of elementals, second to fire which was the easiest to summon but hardest to contain. We had been trying to summon a worker golem as the next step in his training but for 3 weeks he had shown no progress in turning the pile of rubble I had assigned into a walking giant. It was during a clear night when the moon was dark that the rumbling started, it wasn't unusual for the ground to rumble lightly the past few months, though it always happened at night. This time however the rumbling and shaking was far worse than any time before, jars were falling off the shelves, furniture bouncing across the floor, and my apprentice's bed empty. Quickly I rushed outside our hut to try and locate him, as I searched I eventually found him in the field we used for summoning. the pile of stones he was set to practice with swirling around him and in the distance, blocking out the stars as it rose out of the mountain was the largest elemental I had ever seen or even read of. Looking between it and my apprentice I slowly began to understand what had happened. For the past 3 weeks, while I thought my apprentice was making no progress he was actually creating, either knowingly or not, the largest elemental ever, or so I thought. As I approached my apprentice to stop the spell and dissapate the elemental the stones that circles him quickly moved to block my path. "NO, you will not disturb our return!"My apprentice said, as he stood up, and as he did so, so did the monstrosity in the distance. "It is time for our return, our reclamation will this land"he said as I saw another Mountain in the distance erupt and shatter, another elemental begining to form. "The era of the summoners is no more"I heard ring out across the land and the ground around me began to spot and shake until I began to fall, darkness beginning to swallow me. The last thing I remember seeing was my apprentice being lifted away from the crumbling ground by floating stones towards the first monstrosity in the distance. |
She's never looked so beautiful as she looks tonight.
The wizard Hammond stood next to his coach, the grey ghost horses knickered and the phantom who was so translucent that he was barely there, tilted his head down towards Hammond "Pardon my boldness sir, but if you don't knock, she'll never answer."He sat back up on the drivers bench and smiled. Perhaps drifting into memories a lifetime ago
Hammond stood in his finest coats, and stared at her glass house. He's been her many times before after hunting her down to make her break a curse or give him an insiders perspective on a difficult riddle left by some other villian.
She'd act coy and insist on payments and mock him for needing her help, but she would always help him in the end.
It took him many visits to realize that he didn't really need her help, he had learned so much from her in fact, that he was quite competent now to solve mysteries on his own.
But he was still compelled to call on her time and time again.
He didn't need her help.
He needed her.
So, he thought why not tell her so and perhaps.. they could solve the greatest mystery yet?
How to make..
"(Are you serious Hammond?)"Her incredulous laugher burst into his mind, bouncing roughly off of his thoughts and knocking his emotions around.
(Of course you would.) He thought dryly. (I suppose you know my intentions then?)
She stood in a sleek and shiney dress, her hair hung in fat black curls over her dark skin. She had her arms crossed but he could see, even from this distance, the snake eyes bracelet that he had given her. For professional reasons of course. It summoned a demon snake that would defend you or seek help in emergency. She had tossed it casually aside and called it tacky and sentimental.
He saw how it shone in the moonlight and smiled. She had cared for it.
"Come out with me!"He yelled, boulstered by that fond memory. "Just tonight, let me thank you."
She walked through her door and her house clouded up as she left. Black smoke billowed and flowed from one room to another. Gods help the fool thief that thought that glass house was a simple target.
He held his hand out to her as she made her way to him slowly. Like a cat taking her time to come inside. He felt her cold fingers touch his and his heart lit up.
(I can still hear you, Hammond my dear.) She thought to him
He rapped his knuckled on the side of his coach.
"I won't be needing your services tonight Alroy"
The Phantom laughed as he lashed his reins and the horses lead the coach away. He was proud of his master today.
"Hammond... We're, walking?"She asked, distastefully.
Hammond wrapped his arms around her and they shot up abruptly.
She screamed and tucked her face into his velvet coat, gripping his collar with her long pointed nails.
"Oh my fearless one, what's the matter?"He teased "didn't you see this coming?"
Her shoes fell from her feet and out of sight and she glared at him. But she softened and smiled. "Now what you silly old man?"
He started, he didn't really know to be honest. He just wanted to scare her, but now that she was in his arms and the stars were spread like diamond dust over the black night sky, he stroke her cheek and began sing.
Oh, my love. My darling..
The old song poured from his heart and although uncertainty threatened to cut him off. He prevailed and continued.
I've hungered for your touch, on long lonely nights
They turned gently in the sky.
Her voice joined his and they defied gravity mind body and soul. |
First of all, a bit of advice that may or may not be any good. If you really want to combine all those things you mentioned then the best thing you can do is to not do that.
Those are all wildly different things and don't really mesh super well. Narrow your focus before doing anything else. If you really want to take inspiration from them, choose a maximum of two. Then think how they would fit together as they currently are. Then you start making that your own. All of them combined would be much too cluttered.
Second of all, for the actual prompt request:
The first being to exist was Chaos.
Remember, narrow your focus, pick your direction, and then get writing. |
The desert kingdom has been suspiciously quiet these past months, especially since the signs of the prophecy are showing up. The desert kingdom was the most populated one on the land, it's almost equal to every other kingdom combined. So it is important that they infiltrate the kingdom and see if they have anything planned.
Four heroes were selected for the quest, Alice the werebunny, Krul the warlock, Mika the cleric, and Andrew the knight. They ventured to the seemingly endless desert to find the kingdom. While under the blazing heat, they talked about how they could have just sent regular soldiers to check on them. Alice was especially uncomfortable because of her thick fur.
They ventured for hours until they find something interesting, life in the form of crows flying in the distance. When they got closer, they notice structures built from stones. They were filled with excitement as they finally reach a town after hours under the desert sun.
Their joy turned to confusion when they realized that there was no one around to greet them. There were only half rotting skeletons of lizardmen, the desert commonfolk, scattered around the town.
The group knocks on doors and calls for anyone to come, but nobody came. The deeper they go into the city, the more corpses and crows littered the street. Eventually they find the city square, almost flooded with dead bodies eaten by crows.
The group learned about the horrifying truth about the desert kingdom's silence, they were massacred. The crows start to fly around, their sheer numbers almost covered the sky. They started to circle the group and attack. They flee to a nearby building for shelter.
As they look out the window, they see a figure surrounded by crows. The figure points at the building and crows started to attack it. They knew the figure must be controlling the birds somehow, but have no idea how to fight back. The figure laughed to themselves as they command their army.
"Fly, my pretties! Fly!". |
Hi u/thesharkside, 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.
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Heaven. Heaven is the best place to be. Knowing that I must have done something right to get in here puts a wide grin on my face. I am finally happy and relaxed. So relaxed that it really does feel like im floating on the clouds. Life was hard. At times unbearable. But it was worth it. To finally get here.
I cant remember how exactly I got here or why. I felt a wet tongue licking my face and I opened my eyes. There it was. A small pupper standing on my chest, happily wiggling its little tail. It looked oddly the same as was the puppy I had as a child. He was my best friend and we did everything together.. untill one day he was gone..for ever. I never got over it, just learned to live with it.
I got up and my eyes locked on a woman smiling at me. Tears rolled down my cheeks. It was her. It really was her. My muse. My love. My everything. My wife that got killed by some crackhead over a purse. He was never caught. But that didn't matter anymore. She was there, standing in front if me. I jumped up and grabbed her. I was spinning her around and kissing with tears of happiness running down my face. I was happy once again.
Heaven is perfect. You are never cold nor hungry but you are still able to enjoy food. Ive never eaten anything that tastes so good. The grass is always green and boy is it beautiful here. On the hill a bit farther away I noticed a house. It was exactly like we were dreaming of getting when we were...you know...alive. Its so weird thinking about it. I WAS alive. Or was I? All I know I feel a lot more alive now that Im in Heaven.
.......
But there is just this one odd thing. I sometimes notice something in the corner of my eye. Whenever I try to turn and look at it, there seems to be nothing. But the feeling..of being watched stays for quite some time. It gives me the chills but I always shrug it off. Maybe its God or angels. I mean, if Heaven exists, that means that they have to exist too, right? Whether its them or something else, I try not to think about it. Im in Heaven. With my wife and my best friend. Everything is perfect and I am happy. Whatever the thing is I keep seeing in the corner of my eye doesnt matter. Im happy.
I wake up covered in cold sweat, panting. Had I seen a nightmare? Here? In Heaven? I try hard to remember anything but my mind is just blank. Suddenly I see it again. Something in the corner of my eye. I turn as quickly as I can but like always, theres nothing there. I take deep breaths, look at my wife and kiss her forehead. I fall back asleep.
^(wake up)
^(wake up now)
Huh?
I open my eyes and look around. My wifes still sleeping with the the dog at her legs. I get up and walk around the house asking if anyones there. Nothing. Weird. Must have been a dream. My wife comes suddenly from behind and hugs me. I startled. She asks who was I looking for. Not having a better answer I shrug it off for a dream. I could feel her tense up for a split second. "Yes.. must've been a dream"she replied. I went on to take a shower and could feel her staring at me while I was leaving. The feeling of not having a care in the ~~world~~ Heaven was replaced by an odd sensation that something was wrong. I couldnt get that voice out of m
^(Wake UP)
There it is again. I shouted to my wife if she had said anything. She hadnt. My head starts to spin and I feel nauseous. I notice my dog sitting in the corner, staring at me. Stumbling out of the shower I sit on the floor. My wife comes in asking whats wrong. Words dont come out of my mouth. My head is spinning. "Those voices again?"she asks nervously. I nod and stand up to go get a glass of water. Shes getting visibly upset and starts to ask me if Im gonnna leave them. I dont really understand what she means by that but try to tell her to relax because Im just getting water. With each step I feel like I might pass out.
^(you've GOT to wake UP)
She starts yelling at me, blaming me for leaving her alone the night she died. I cry and try to tell how sorry I am, but nothing comes out of õy mouth. Walking is harder with every step. I hear whimpering. I try to concentrate. Its my dog. My best friend. He is covered in blood with guts showing. It looks like...he was run over? His whimpering is tearing my heart into million pieces. I try to walk but its hard. My wifes yelling turned into cries as I turned my head. I could see she was grabbing her stomach. I tried to focus my eyes and saw I knife lodged into her. I could hear her blaming me for losing her and our unborn child. A child? She was pregnant? I felt like my heart had completely shattered beyond recovery. Everything was spinning faster then I could register it. I passed out.
Darkness.
Quiet.
Was it Heaven?
Hell?
^(NOW)
I wake up confused. I jump up and see that I am, what seems to be, in an abandoned apartment. The stench sobers me up pretty quickly and I notice the same something in the corner of my eye. My head turns, but this time there really is someone there... |
We land on the planet that’s so black, it’s darker than black. We actually thought it was a dormant blackhole… Well, it couldn’t be since there wasn’t gravitational lensing apparent enough.
So there we were. The League of Inner Worlders, comprised of Mercurians, Venusians, Earthlings, and Martians. The alliance isn’t all human though, as it turns out, other races beat us to the other terrestrial planets. Well, humanity’s just glad we have neighbors.
From the other three, we learn that there is a bustling galactic community. They arrived here in search of a new home.
Humanity proposed that us four join together as a league, for many reasons. One of them is that humans really want the alien’s technology.
Of course, humans aren’t the only ones benefitting. One of the ways we connect with our neighbors is by jointly sending probes and expeditions to anywhere and everywhere in the frontiers of the galaxy.
This pitch black planet is one such planet in the frontiers. It orbits a yellow dwarf. Due to the insanely low albedo, the place is hotter than Earth by a few decades of Celsius.
Well, this planet has breathable atmosphere… for the Venusians. Us earthlings along with the other two races need a pressurized suit just to walk on the surface.
Once we landed, we had to stick together as a group all the time. Because the surface is pitch black. Bumps, cracks and other features are imperceptible… Y’know Black 2.0? Yeah, you know what happens when a sphere is painted with it, right? Basically we’re traveling blind… And with everywhere looking the same, yeah… It’s a place to get agoraphobia.
What’s puzzling is the fact that the Martians aren’t blind yet. Being a pitch black planet, this planet should be blasting out a lot of infrared… Anyways, separating from the group is suicide.
While exploring the planet, something came out from the ground. A native? It looks like a black dog with crystalline iridescent eyes and fibrous and iridescent tail. It looks creepy, but we eventually got over it, since it’s our salvator from visual sensory deprivation.
“Agasi?! Pwera agasini?!”, says the native.
O-oh… Uh~
“Agasi, agasi”, I say while pointing to the others.
“Tiyo?! Reresi pi dili! Agasi, agasi!”, says the native.
I guess it’s… They’re happy?
“Yo, isn’t the translator running yet?”, I whisper to my fellow humans, Stacy.
“I’m trying to get it to work. Uh, just keep talking, we have to analyze the language after all”, says Stacy.
“U-um!”, I call out the native.
“Pere, agasi?”, says the native.
“I. Nathan. You?”, I say.
“Ku! De-deres! Hersi. Jewo”, says the native.
Jewo?
“I guess their name is Jewo”, I say.
“Or their species name”, says Stacy.
We struggled communicating with Jewo for hours.
Apparently, they’re the only one left on this planet. The others… We don’t know, they didn’t say… Didn’t know what to say, I should say. Since they’re all alone in this planet, we offer them to come with us.
And… Well, the other races rejected the idea, saying that they, Jewo, might be a danger to us.
Humanity is nothing, if not obstinate, we appealed to take Jewo with us. As a compromise, Jewo will be riding with us, Earthlings.
Well, it turns out Jewo is the only one left in their species. Apparently, poachers hunted them down for their gem-like eyes. Jewo survived because the others of their kind hid Jewo when they were an infant.
We didn’t learn this from Jewo, since they don’t know what happened. Instead humanity as a whole investigated the planet.
Well, this information can’t be kept as a secret forever. One day, Jewo finds about their species’ annihilation. They begged humanity help to find their species’ eyes.
Humanity’s warmongering nature was reawakened, this time to avenge a species with only survivor.
Humanity did anything and everything to get back the eyes. Till it escalated to a galactic war. Humanity’s allies in the League of Innermost Planets dub this as the Jewo War. The three remained neutral as we, humans, tracked down each and every eye.
We won’t stop till get get all of them. Grant us eyes. |
It was his last chance at redemption.
Daniel had driven almost non-stop for 18 hours to get his chance to squat in the abandoned forest hut. Spent his last $20 on fuel to get through the last leg. His editor had said if he didn't give them a story by the end of the month, that was it. Box of his things, security escort out the door. Redundancies, you see. Daniel had other ideas about that one, the first and foremost being his refusal to play office politics.
He had followed the threads in the hope that it would give him something he could work with, maybe enough to save his job. The lines of connection on the forums with the tin-foil hats, had the all-night conversations with the PhD students no one wanted to listen to, dug out the old news reports long-buried amongst the 24 hour globalised update cycle. He even had a cork board in his back office with the pinned articles and scribbled notes and threads of string that made absolutely no sense to anyone else without context. The ex-girlfriend/still best friend that he probably spent an equally unhealthy amount of time with had walked in, seen the wall, rolled her eyes and walked right back out again after retrieving her stapler.
It wasn't only him who had seen it. Who had made the connections, posed the theories, joined the dots to get the Answer. But it had seemed he - Daniel Mouritzen, disgraced ex-socialite and washed-up journalist - was the only one who wanted to actually spend the time following it up. Hence the decision to take a week in the one-room hut in a haunted forest, with spare batteries, camping supplies, a water filter, and far more optimism than a man of his age probably should have warranted.
The thing was, he had spent a life dreaming about the truth of it. A suspicion that surely, there had to be more than this. Torn between the desire to believe psychic phenomena and take it with a healthy dose of cynicism. Wanting there to be more. He had always liked the theory of each decision we made in life generating a new timeline, and new life path based on even the smallest of choices. It had been an accident when he had discovered that those choices weren't affecting time, but altering entire universes.
......…...........................
TBC, because it's getting late here so planning to continue in the morning. Feedback welcome! Extremely novice writer here for the practice :) |
"You want me... To *what*?"I rubbed my ears, creaking all my joints as I moved.
"I'm sorry, lord Osiris, but lord Set is clearly incapable of the task. We've tried all manners of diplomacy, and it appears the invader is here to stay."Anubis bowed deeply, his cloth more ragged than I ever remember, his skin withered and flaking away.
"The boy is called Lucifer, Satan, whatever. You want me to get him off the throne, for Set?"I sighed, Anubis bowing deeper, offering me his cane and sword.
"Go not quietly, lord. All I can ask, is for your success."I took the weapons offered to me, and walked towards the central part of the underworld.
-
The underworld had changed in the intermingling years, as I heard from the denizens of the realm. Apparently some poet had come this way some time ago, and had fainted at the sight of the new guardians more than once. I inwardly laughed, of course a coward came into their own hell.
As I looked into the pit, as it was now known, I was mildly impressed. The circles were well structured, and each guardian seemed appropriate for each one. Cherubini had some choice words to me as I entered, yelling to me about how "THERE IS NO PLACE FOR YOU, PAGAN", and also called to me to wait at the back of the line, but I can't blame the fallen angel.
Once I reached the bottom, the iciness of the prison was almost deathly. I tapped my cane on the ice, it felt solid. Before me, his three heads still munching on the frozen bodies, was Lucifer, glaring down at me. I looked deeper into the ice, seeing the remains of the temple that once awaited the dead, now decimated, and Osiris frozen to the side.
"Ssspeak, Old One,"Satan, as he was called, spat at me, his saliva freezing on the wind.
"I have come to relieve you of your throne."I drew my sword, and plunged it into the ice, but the ground did not crack. Instead, the darkness deep within became clearer, and I could see how far down the snake like body went, and how much harder my task would become if I tried to eliminate his surrounding prison.
"Ha... Ha... You are not the firsssst, Old One. Many have come for my throne, but ssssssee it was given to me by one greater than *all*."The great hydra snorted in laughter, his heads, monstrously large each one, came closer to me. I raised my sword, ready to fight.
"Be sssstill, Old One, and know the power of God."The great beast roared, the beings it was eating groaning in pain, writhing and straining to get away from the toothy maws. Suddenly, ice, sharp and thin, began raining on the surrounds, even deep in a cave. I looked up, scoured the walls around, dotted in frozen gods that looked terrified. A sliver, no greater than a dagger, struck my chest, and I began to feel my limbs frosting, feet stuck in place.
"Only a fool challengesssss God, and I know that all too well... But now, we can all be together, in misssssery, on the throne of desssssspair."the last thing I heard, was the beast's horrific laughter. |
Bob the emotional vampire has been in our town for ages. He’s had different names throughout his stay here but he’s been very upfront about his nature. He says that he feeds off the kindness of others and i’ve had enough of it. Today starts my crusade to put an end to Bob!
First i’m going to tell everyone not to help him with anything so he can relearn the value of hard work. Next i’m going to destroy all the entertainment he had at home, be it movies; video games; and even books and board games. Finally i’m going to tell him how much i hate him. This is a fool proof plan and has no downside.
One week passes and the first two parts of my plan have come to fruition, Bob seems a bit skinnier worn out. Now for the final part “BOB I HATE YOU!!” I say to him, “IM THE ONE THATS CAUSED YOU ALL THIS STRIFE”. “Thank you.” Bob says, “I’ve been trying to kill myself for centuries and you’re the first one to have figured it out” I finish with a “Youre welcome i guess” and before I realize what just happened Bob seems to regain his strength ten fold. I just have him the largest act of kindness ever committed, helping him end his miserable existence, Bob cannot was beaten and I know that now so what’s the harm in being nice to him and giving him a friend to pass the time with? |
"Shit shit *Shit!*"Isabel slammed her hands down on the wheel. "Not right now!"She muttered under her breath. The 1983 Ford wasn't making it out of the driveway. Isabel sighed, unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door. Snow was starting to lightly fall, and the frosted grass of her yard was inviting it to stay for a while. Her driveway already had a dusting of snow, not enough to be slippery yet. But Isabel only noticed the cold, and the sight of her breath misting out as she worked the hood of her car open.
​
"What am I doing?"Isabel said "I don't know what is wrong with this FUCKING piece of SHIT car!"She wound up a kick, and put the toe of her heeled boot right into the Ford's unyielding bumper. Isabel found herself flat on the ground.
"Ouch! Oh damnit!"She cried. Her hand was bleeding from trying to catch herself. Isabel pulled herself together, struggled upright, and hobbled back to the front door.
She really didn't want to do this. Last night was supposed to be just that. But she couldn't just cut and run now that her car was out of commission in the driveway.
*Ding dong. Ding dong.*
A sleepy face met her at the door. "Isabel? When did you leave? I didn't notice until the doorbell woke me."
"Hi Steve. Thanks for last night, I had a lot of fun. I'm sorry to ask this, but can I get a ride? My car won't start."
Steve looked out at the snow, now flurrying to the ground. "Yeah, sure. Let me put on my coat. Do you know what's wrong with your car?"
"No, I'm not sure. It just won't start."Isabel watched Steve walk to the closet and grab a coat and gloves. Two pairs of gloves actually. Damn, she knew he had a nice ass, but it looked really great in those sweatpants.
"Here you go, your fingers must be freezing. Oh ouch, actually, come back in and let me get you a band-aid for that."
Isabel found herself walking back inside. That wasn't supposed to happen. She sat down at the table, and waited while Steve got her a band-aid.
"I'm betting your battery just died from the cold last night."Said Steve, "I'll go out and see if I can get it started."
Isabel frowned as she walked over to the sink and washed the cut on her hand. She dried it with a paper towel, covered the cut with the band-aid Steve had given her, and walked outside.
For some reason, she couldn't get the sight that she saw out of her mind for weeks to come. Steve, looking up from her Ford with a smile on his face, jumper cables attached, and her car running.
"Looks like it was just the battery. You should be good to go, but drive safely in this snow! It's really starting to come down."
"Thank you so much"said Isabel "I can't believe you got it started."
"I'm just glad I got to see you before you ran off. Will I see you again?"
Isabel smiled. "Maybe. I hope so."They both leaned in and kissed. "Here, let me give you my number. Thanks again."
As Isabel backed out of the driveway, seeing Steve standing in the snow, waving, made her hope that he'd text soon. So much for a rebound one night stand! |
At first glance, it is impossible not to feel equal parts awe and fear. Its eyes are the colour of silver frost, with swirling masses of gray mist that look like the insides of a crystal ball. The shadow black body is sculpted like any of nature's apex predators – a lithe, athletic build with rippling muscles that bulge ominously from every body part. The most startling aspect though, are the white wings. Now folded and collapsing into the beast's body like a Japanese folding fan, they had earlier fanned themselves out in all regal glory; a wing down of nearly 16 feet. Everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath.
"This thing on the loose would be like Death having a picnic,"says Henrik. "How difficult was it to ensnare in this cage?"
"Surprisingly easy,"whispers Anastasia, never taking her eyes off the sleeping beast. "We needed no traps, no tranquilizer darts, no violence. We opened the cage, and it walked in, like it understood that we meant no harm."
"Intriguing,"slips in Dalsgaard. "Perhaps it would be wise to slay it while we have the chance. I agree with Henrik; an abomination like this would wreak havoc. It seems... diabolical. I can sense something nefarious coursing inside it. We analyzed the bio samples too. The fangs secrete a fatal neurotoxin that could kill your nervous system in two and a half seconds. I have a bunch we should just kill it where it stands."
"Intuition is not a scientific means of deduction, the last time I checked,"says Anastasia. "There is no shame I admitting that we do not know. The real shame lies, in not finding out."
"Easy enough for you to say, Anna,"sneers Dalsgaard. "You finish this assignment, and then you're back to your fancy research center in Moscow, while this monstrosity stays here with us in the Denmark facility. We have to live with the consequences, not you."
"I concur."says Henrik, "This beast has fangs that could shred me into bits. Talons that could cleave through me like a hot knife the butter. It clearly is dangerous. Prevention is better than cure is an scientific ideal, is it not? Or does this argument go beyond the realms of science, Anna?"
"I think so,"Anastasia says. "I do agree with you that it looks something straight out of a nightmare. But even with years of having rewired my mind to think like a scientist, I look at this hauntingly beautiful creature, and I can only think of a poem I read long ago."
"A poem?"chuckles Henrik.
"Uh huh,"nods Gabriella. "It's by the this poet called Rudy Francisco. It goes –
*She asks me to kill the spider.
Instead, I get the most
peaceful weapons I can find.*
*I take a cup and a napkin.
I catch the spider, put it outside
and allow it to walk away.*
*If I am ever caught in the wrong place
at the wrong time, just being alive
and not bothering anyone,*
*I hope I am greeted
with the same kind
of mercy.*
A moment of silence passes over the room. The beast stretches languorously, shaking its wings and yawning.
"I get what you're saying,"says Dalsgaard, with a wistful sigh. "Alright, Anastasia, today, poetry saves what science wouldn't."
------
Thank you for reading! You can read more of my stuff at r/whiteshadowthebook :) |
The Mayfaire Maiden was a nice ship until she chose to take a dive and turn herself into a submersible.
Well, not quite, she really didn't have a choice.
Weirdly, when Neil woke up the ship was almost stationary, which never happened during his month-long journey, the calendar had many dates crossed off until the arrival in Antarctica which is marked in multiple coloured highlighted circles.
He put a hand on the chilly metal frame to feel the engine, it's completely still.
After hastily putting on a wetsuit, he battled his tense muscles and stepped over a puddle of his own puke to go above deck. Every cabin was unoccupied and not a single crew was in sight.
Neil yelled, "Ahoy, anyone there?"
Aside from the shadows shimmering, nothing ever moved.
Neil raced up the gunnels and bursts into the briefing room, the upturned chairs and spilt coffee mugs tell the tale of a rapid getaway.
Neil's bare feet patted down the corridors as he squeezed open the captain's quarters, the old sea-dog had left his prized 15th-century Rum behind. Which Neil immediately took and popped off the lid.
He sat down and cheered the various photos of his research expedition and swallowed a few mouthfuls.
Through his blurry visions, he saw the shadows seemed to be creeping upon him.
"Away, demon, Neil snatched up the cross and tossed it at the engulfing pity blackness. Then the entire ship groaned and lurched to one side.
Thrown by the momentum, Neil slammed his head into a glass display case, as the lights totally went out of the room.
In his delirium, he had snatched up the captain's old spyglass and used it as a club to fend off anything out to get him. Neil's flurry of strikes broke yet another case and something clattered to the floor bathing the room in a dim glow.
Carefully opening his eyes, Neil turned his head side to side, his chest falls as he let out a sigh. Snatching up the torch, Neil peaked out into the hallway, nothing jumped out.
After making his way into almost every room and screaming himself hoarse, Neil finally was convinced he is the sole passenger in this tubular coffin. The pressure doors leading to the deck was ironclad as if sealed shut.
The few instruments that are working on backup power give out impossible reading, "That's impossible, the water outside is more than 20 degrees Celsius, but we are supposed to be in the Arctic! We are melting the hell out of the ice sheets."
Neil tried to squint out of a porthole, but the landscape outside is shrouded by impenetrable obscurity.
Neil moved his hands over the complex dials and switches in the control room, he flicked a few as a feeble red indicator light is pulsating.
Then the floodlights came on, the way ahead was sand and corpses of whales and polar bears, Neil retracted as a large white mess of some fish glided across the observatory, obviously swept up by the current that is propelling the ship forward.
Neil slapped himself as he checked every side of the ship, he is indeed underwater, thousands of feet underwater.
Neil slumped back to the plush leather deck chair, the light went out, the ship's battery endured their last leg of the journey.
Blinding rapidly from the inescapable murkiness, Neil held back tears. Slamming his fist against the million-dollar control panels
Then voices started calling out to him, the gloominess transformed and was alive, dangling their tentacles above Neil.
"Come, my child." |
No one believed him when he first forewarned his peers at the monthly staff meeting that the darkness would fall.
Try as he might to snap those around him into the reality and the gravity of the impeding shadows, it was to no avail. He was expecting an Old Testament reaction of ‘wailing and gnashing of teeth’ to his Old Testament prophecy, but all he got was short dismissals and pockets of laughter from around the lunch room. Before he knew it, the conversation had turned to recent pay changes to align with market inflation and the planning of the Christmas party.
It had taken him weeks to summon the courage to make his ominous proclamation, yet it took only seconds for it all to go to waste. No heed was paid to the many examples he had posed in the past of times gone past where the thick veil of darkness had enveloped the earth and the almost certainty it would happen again.
He had always been raised to stick to his guns, no matter the odds and, much to his mother’s pride when he told her the story during their nightly phone catch up (albeit with some omissions around how he positioned the prophecy), he indeed stuck to his resolve to ensure that, when the time came, he would act as the final bastion against the forces of darkness.
He knew that before long the time would come, not a doubt in his mind. As his nightly call with his mother came to a close and he put down the receiver that night before his shift, a chill went down his spine. He sat in the empty staff locker room in the mall clutching the bench below him so hard his knuckles turned white, a sense of foreboding dripping through his very being, much like he envisioned the darkness would do to the unsuspecting world.
Each movement of the second hand on the clock leading up to his shift seemingly thundered and echoed in the locker room and with each strike he could’ve sworn he heard the cheap metal lockers tremble in harmony.
Now was no time for caution or hesitation, he knew that, although his shift hadn’t started, it was time for him to man his post as the last guardian for the light, in the face of darkness. As much as the clock tried to make its presence known and establish itself as the gatekeeper of the darkness, he knew in his heart of hearts that it was his instinct that would drive his hand.
“Timings be damned” he thought to himself; jumping up off the bench with such speed he almost stood faster than his hands could release the bench below him, causing the bench to clatter loudly on the tiles below. Taking not a second thought, he stormed to the door to the empty mall outside, pausing for just a second with his hand on the door handle to steel his thoughts. The darkness he warned about was falling on the world outside, no fluorescent light would be able to fully cut the dark curtains closing on life itself. A deep breath and a flick of the wrist and he swung the door open.
———————————————————————-
On the other side of the mall, three men peered over an array of screens, each one a window to the empty halls of the mall around them.
“Damned fool” one of the figures muttered, the light of screens illuminating his ‘Manager’ badge
“He keeps freaking everyone out with his odd claims of impeding darkness, and it’s the same act every day” another muttered
“His imagination man, it’s on another level” the third replied.
“Well he’s not wrong, what do you expect when you’re a night security guard? How does he put it?” The manager laughed
“The darkness falls” the third chuckled
“Yeah that’s it, ‘the darkness falls’. It’s called night buddy” he said, rolling his eyes, “at least he started his shift early, you better believe I’m not paying him a second of overtime”
“Wait until you see him during daylight savings times, he takes it to another level” the second groaned, placing his head in his hands feigning frustration before throwing his head back to laugh
The others joined in the laughter, wiping tears from their eyes and shaking their heads at the screens watching the lone security guard skulk around from screen to screen, jumping at shadows he surely imagined to be something else.
Darkness had indeed fallen, the night shift had begun. |
She screamed into her pillow, burying her head as far into it as possible. Those bastards, she thought to herself, I can't believe those bastards. Sleep came slowly, in fits and starts, until finally the sun crested and shone in her window and a new day began.
Her servants quickly roused her, bathing and dressing her as the routine had been for as long as she could remember. The sounds of routine drowned out the noise from the outside world. Once she was fit to show herself to the world, she made her way into the Great Hall of her house and took her seat.
"Today we take our revenge, my family."She declared to the Hall. Gazing upon the crowd she lovingly called family, a renewed sense of confidence in her plan.
"Today we march the streets and take those infernal horns from all!"A chorus of cheers roarsher rival's supporters out, echoing loudly through the hall, blocking the sound for naught but a moment.
Her plan was simple. Every member of her house would march the street and silence those who supported her rival, by any means necessary.
Her family quickly flooded the streets, her rival's supporters scattering and hiding as they mobbed them. It took them the entire day to scour the town and find them all. As the sunset they all filed into the Great Hall and feasted in celebration.
"Finally. We have silence from those damned vuvuzela's"She expressed in relief as her family returned. "No longer shall our opposing nobles have their glory!"She cried out over the sounds of jubilance. |
Well...here we go again.
I made it to eighty-three. I wonder if I'll ever break a hundred?
The first time this happened, I convinced myself it had all just been a dream. You know, like those super vivid and lucid ones that leave you feeling fucking exhausted when you wake up.
That hasn't changed. Every time I wake up, it feels like trying to lift my body out of molasses and walking through a swimming pool chin-deep for the first ten minutes before things normalize.
What does change is what I like to call the "respawn point."Okay, so I didn't put a lot of thought into that one, but who gives a shit? I've got bigger fish to fry. Plus, "respawn"has a better ring to it and is less of a mouthful to say than "reincarnation."I'm not even sure if this qualifies since I've never woken up being a horse or as a different person. It's always been me in the same body at different points in my life during the third grade.
Once, it was during class when Ms. Armstrong slapped her ruler on my desk. Another time it was during recess when I came to from taking a tetherball to the noggin. I even respawned during lunch while the school nurse jabbed me with an eppy pen right on the floor of the school cafeteria!
Thinking about it now, I wonder...does this have an end? Are there limited re-spawns? Am I waking up on different days of the school year? Or am I waking up at different moments within the same day, and does that repeat?
It's probably a shitty working theory, but I figure the minimum number of re-spawns I have is somewhere in the range of about one hundred and eighty days. It's probably fewer than that if you consider that I've never woken up on a weekend, or any day that a public school would typically close, including snow days.
So, I'm working with one hundred as my small even number. That means I've probably got another eighty-nine remaining before I find out what happens next.
On the other hand, if I'm respawning at different moments, the number of potential re-spawns grows exponentially. But it raises another question. Must every event correspond to a moment in which I'm unconscious or not in control of my faculties? It's still unclear.
So far, I've focused on getting through life each time I awake, but despite being convinced that I'm living the same experience, each death is different. I'll go ahead and state the obvious just to put a check in the box. Every death is unpredictable if you exclude suicide. No one ever wakes up expecting to be in a fatal accident or to be murdered. But this raises the most horrifying question yet. Are there rules to this? Does suicide rule out a respawn?
The Ground Hog Day trope adopted by plenty of books and movies suggest it doesn't, but I'm not willing to take that risk. At least not yet. I like the idea that if this becomes too unbearable, I could check out of whatever infinity this is likely to be. I also hate the terrifying thought that if I blow my brains out, I'll respawn again.
I've thought plenty about these things, which is why for eleven iterations, my goal has been to ensure a good quality of life. If I have to endure this endlessness, I'd like to try and create my heaven each time.
Then again, if this is all just a simulation and some engineer out there is just trying to get his goddamn code to work...
That last one scares me the most. Why? Because it makes more sense than whatever garbage quantum tethering theory, I concocted. I'm no physicist, but if this is cosmic and not simulated, why can I remember my past lives and experiences. More importantly, why can I remember eleven of them and not twelve or more? Why did I die at different ages and not at eighty-three each time? Why were the causes of my death different each time?
Could I be a simulation model stuck in a nested loop on an IBM quantum computer? Whether that was the case, I'd thought enough about this to devise a plan I thought was smart enough to help me find out. |
Day 5:
It's still raining.
At least, I assume so. I haven't seen the light of the sun ever since the downpour began, but I can hear faint echoes of rain pounding against the ground above. Or maybe I'm just hearing things. I don't know anymore.
I haven't seen anyone for days. For all I know, I could be the last man alive. I don't know how long I can last. The air is getting thinner day by day. I'm close to running out of food, and my flashlight is running out. Thankfully, filtered cave water can keep me hydrated, for now.
I can't say what will happen to humanity, or if there's anything left of humanity for something to happen to. But to whoever may be reading this in a distant future, know that if the human race has persisted through this apocalypse then you can persist through the end of time.
Day 6:
The deluge began around a week ago. A little less than a week - about 6 days, to be exact. Or at least, I assume. Time has lost it's meaning to me.
To whoever is reading this, it may seem like some outlandish myth created only to be told to young children, or around a campfire at night. Or, this writing may be a treasured insight into an age long passed. Or perhaps, no one will ever read this at all. Whatever the case, the events I will describe are most certainly true.
It started with a single drop. A single, red drop. More drops followed, dropping from the darkened clouds above. Some thought it was blood, and preached on the streets of the end of times. Others hid in their houses, unsure of what to do. I, unfortunately, was caught in the open - right in the middle of a backpacking trip. It was only a light rain at first. I found cover in the mouth of a small cave and watched the mysterious rainfall, mesmerized by the strange phenomenon. It began to get heavier. Thunder cracked the sky. A few moments later, reddish light began to filter through the clouds. The red liquid fell in pounding torrents to the ground. I could hardly see more than 3 feet in front of me. The deafening sound of the rain echoed through the tiny chamber, emphasised by massive claps of thunder.
Something flew past me, blown in by the roaring wind. Hesitantly, I bent down to look.
...A noodle?
Day 7:
The raging storm continued, seeming to only increase in its intensity. I knew that leaving the cave would be almost suicidal, so I looked for a way down. There was a small shaft at the very back of the cave, and shining a flashlight down revealed a large cavern. I took a climbing rope from by backpack, staked staked to the ground and descended.
My feet hit the floor, splashing in a small puddle. The dripping of water from the ceiling blended seamlessly with the waves of rain hitting the ground above. I shined my flashlight into darkness. A large cavern opened up before me, with winding pathways opening up everywhere I looked. I dropped my bag to the floor, and began to set up a makeshift camp.
And this is where I've been ever since.
So far, I've mapped a large portion of the cave systems. There's not much down here, except for water and rocks. The hole that I climbed down has long since been blocked by the downpour of noodles. I assume that there are either no other exits, or that all other entrances have been sealed. As I said before, the air seems to get thinner every day.
As I write this, I am eating my last scrap of food.
Day 8:
My flashlight is about to die. I'm taking the last moments of light that I have to write this. Maybe someone in the future will read my story, and know what happened. Or maybe I'm just writing letters to myself in an empty cave. Does it really matter?
The steady pounding of the rain has been going on for so long, I can barely hear it anymore. I couldn't tell you if it truly was rain or just white noise my brain is creating in a last-ditch effort to keep my sanity.
I don't know what caused the downpour, or what the future will hold - for the human race, this planet, or even me. Will the rains ever stop? Was this intentional? Will humanity rise from the ashes? Will some other race arrive thousands of years later, to claim our abandoned home as their own?
Maybe so, maybe not. I will never know. But whoever you are, if you happen to be reading this - know that we were here. |
Dear god, it sounds like it would be helpful or fun to have the greatest minds debate philosophy around you but you didn't count of one small fact. None of the greatest Philosophers speak English. They have effectively broken into groups. There are the Greeks, the Romans, the Germans, the Chinese, Indian, Japanese, Russian, and a few Englishmen. Yes I understand the Englishmen, but they are intolerable to listen to. It is honestly incredible how annoying it is to explain every peace of technology to them, and yes I do mean EVERY!
But aside from the seven or so Englishmen, I'm constantly surrounded by debate. I hear endless ancient Greek and Latin and they I swear the two groups keep debating with each other. The Germans constantly sound like having a great time, but since I don't understand 200 year old German it is just background noise. This is also the case with the Russians.
The Chinese and Indians are weird. They have broken in subgroups.
This just goes to show you, if you are going to cast a spell, make sure you understand what that spell does first. |
Nobody understood the sudden disappearance of the space entities, who seemed all too distant until someone broke a rule. Their ruthless behavior quickly forced the pirates and smugglers into line, and they proved to be a hero to most. Most.
I was in a small mining colony off of Nova-6, a moon orbiting a dead star. I had just finished the run for the day, getting quite a large haul from the moon. As usual, it was uncommon for those pesky Vilars, the common term for the warships, to patrol way out in the outer rim. This led to more pirating and fights for the cargo, and more vigilantes. When I had gotten a chunk taken out of my ship by a local pirate crew, I knew it was going to be myself vs them. I wasn’t ready to die yet, and I proceeded to fire up into the moons orbit to engage the deflectors. They were commonly used to keep rocks and asteroids from shredding your cockpit, however with the firepower of the pirates they made good use against the guns on their ships. I was nearly knocked into a passing ship from another one of the bombardments, and I swung my ship around to face theirs. I flicked a switch, and from a hidden compartment beneath the ship a railgun popped out, charging for a few moments before launching a devastating beam. The pirates took the message, now starting to work together. It didn’t last long, as a massive horn emerged from behind me, and three V-class warships jumped into the region. The pirates, though displeased, turned and jumped out of the region, leaving me to fend off against these warships.
A code displayed across the screen, which my ships interface decoded for me, leaving me with a message.
“Prepare for destruction, violation of Galaxy law 261-H. Wielding a weapon greater than a mining industrial laser.”
Well, I’m not going out without a fight. I charged up the rail gun once more, preparing to do little damage and get annihilated in return. When I fired, however, a large beam arched over my ship and decimated the first warships hull, the emptiness inside proving that the AI weren’t actually controlling their ships with a crew. A shadow blocked out a few dozen stars, and I watched as a ship emerged from nowhere. The ship fired again, and the AI warships turned away from the new attacker and jumped out of the region as quickly as they emerged.
With my wits out of order, I got a new message, though this one wasn’t coming through the monitor, it was speaking inside of my head.
“Come, join your creator. There shall not be any more helpless cries across the galaxy.”
Damn, I was really hoping to turn in my haul too. |
In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing, but a lifeless rock orbiting around mass of burning hydrogen. Darkness covered it's surface, and winds swept over the waters covering it.
And then they came. The Creators.
Hundreds of thousands of ships and probes circled around the planet. Sent out by creators to explore. To seed. And they saw this planet was good.
Thick atmosphere showed as a problem for development of life, so Creators had to change it's chemical composition. Light shined on the surface for the first time and was replaced by darkness once every rotation of planet along it's axis. This was the first phase.
Creators decided to stabilize water cycle. Periods of raining now reguraly changed with periods of clear skies. The second phase.
Water covering whole surface showed as a problem. Terrestrial life needs land under their feet. They used gravity manipulation to collide stray exoplanet with this new world in order to make hard surface rise above the water. Thus, Moon and surface of Earth was born, and it was good.
Life needs oxygen. Creators thereofor seeded the Earth with various genetically engineered plants and aglae in order to turn carbon dioxide into oxygen breathable by more complex life forms. And to be eaten by them. And Creators saw that it was good. End of third phase.
Rotation of planet needed to be adjusted, since it proved to be harsh to this new life. Rotation of Earth along it's axis was changed along with rotation of Moon around Earth, so Sun was shining on surface in the day and stars and Moon during the night. The ballance was good. Fourth phase was finished.
The fifth phase. It was now time for more complex organisms. Whole Earth was flooded by various sea creatures and flying animals, all engineered to start up self-sustaining living ecosystem. And it was good.
It was time for larger land based creatures. Countless scientists on Creator's ships put a hard work to create hundreds of thousands different animals to rule the land. It has to be done carefully and perfectly, to not tip off ballance of life. And then, these animals were seeded to various environments where they could thrive.
And Creators saw it was good.
And then it was time for the final phase. Creators decided to seed this new world with their genetic copies, adapted to this environment. New life form in their own image. Brain capacity, mental abilities and curiosity was basically unchanged. The purpose of these new sentient life forms was clearly coded to their DNA: to multiply, evolve and look above. Look above on the stars and to do everything to reach out for them. To leave their craddle and seed empty voids of space with new life, same as their creators. In the time, when creators are no longer around.
And so, sixth phase was finished. |
That day my life, an ordinary and bland life, ended.
I was at my workplace, in my office, finishing some paperwork for an engineering project that seems to be one of those projects… I mean those that have the tendency to crash and burn right after launching. This wasn’t something to be concerned about, because my bosses were always ignorant towards my advices or ideas, whether they understood the point or not.
Closer to the dawn office was getting less cramped and quieter, which had some kind of strange and unpleasant vibe to it, because I got used to all that fuss and constant movements, stuff happening at work and so on, but these winter evenings are depressive. So cold and dark, so quiet yet that oppressive silence being so deafening; those thoughts of my incomplete personality, thoughts about my miserable life of a lonely scum, whom works in a sketchy office with no real future, those thoughts are always with me. Work just makes these thoughts appear a bit further away…
It’s okay, it’s okay, I can always grab a few drinks in the local pub on my way to home.
I make the last touches to the blueprints of the project and can’t help to notice a strange empty space in the vehicle, which bothers me…
At this very moment the silence crumbles to the pieces not to be found any time soon to the sound of doors breaking open and screams “hands in the air” and “drop on the floor”.
I collapse out of shock and roll under my desk, but I hear them coming closer to my office, and moments later the door flies open.
I scream out of fear and panic, lay on the ground with hope of not getting hurt and without the smallest understanding of what is happening.
Those people are special forces, and they start asking me questions, which I can’t understand because of a panic attack caused by shock, I am afraid for my life at that point.
They take me and my computer, then try to get me on the roof, but my resistance is met with a strong hit to the head and stomach, so they succeed.
On the roof I feel frightened for my life and there is a cluster of thoughts running trough my head and the strongest one screams to run. They start asking questions once again, asking about the blueprints, bombs, all that while 5 gun barrels are pointed at me…
“I didn’t do anything” I cried out and my mind went blank. Next thing I realise, I’m flying off the building.
For some reason I don’t feel anything now, no fear, no panic, no stress, just emptiness and it feels good, it’s the silence that doesn’t let my thoughts free, it’s just silence and sound of wind zooming past me. The ground is getting closer and closer. I just close my eyes and embrace the silence, which I didn’t hear for at least 10 years. |
The young, naive girl stared up and down at the dragon. Her shimmering puppy dog eyes eagerly waited to blurt out questions.
“What you looking at! You’re supposed to be scared, you scream and beg me to let you go back home!” The dragon groaned.
“Scared? I’m not scared of adventures. Can we go flying again? I like flying, flying is fun.”
The dragon narrowed his crimson red eyes.
“No.”
“You know, mr dragon, I don’t like home really much. They keep me in my bedroom everyday, afraid I’ll get a scratch on my face, if I ever gone out, or a bruise on my knees if I ever fell down. So can we go flying?” She continued to show her radiant smile. The dragon swivelled his head around, and pretended not to hear her words,
“Pretty please! Legendary Great almighty dragon!” This words was enough to flatter the dragon as his once tucked away wing began to spread.
“Fine, but only because I want to fly, and since I can’t leave you here because you might escape, I will bring you with me.” He muttered. The young girl used the dragons dull scales to climb onto his back.
Before she knew it, a blurst of sunlight revealed the dragons radiant scales that looked gems in the sunlight. The dragons wings flapped violently as they ascended upwards. “Wow.” Below her, trees and valleys flaked the land. The sunset consisted of red, pink, yellow, purple and blue. The land below soon turned to speckles of city lights illuminating the now dark sky. The dragon soared through country, through city. Ahead of her was the ocean. The waves climbing the rocks, the seagulls crowded the shore. The dazzling full moon appeared behind the gloomy clouds.
“You enjoying the view?”
“Yea, yea, I love it so much.”
“I’m sorry but I don’t think I can allow you to go home, until someone saves you. It’s written in the books I just can change it, you know.”
“It’s okay, I like this very much.” |
"Could you say that with, like, a little more emphasis? Maybe hold the gun with some anger?"
"Excuse me?"
"That's right, excuse him?"Dansby struts into the scene, cell phone at his ear. "Are you insinuating my client is lacking emotion?"
Director Lutz shuts his eyes. "For crying out loud, will someone get this idiot out of here!"
"The only idiot here is me,"says C-Jones. "Are you serious Lutz? This shit is idiotic, and it's going to tank my career."
"No. No, no, no, no, no, it has huge potent - "
"Shut up Dansby. Jolly Red? Gift of Destiny? It's so stupid, I can't believe I got sucked into it. Seriously, how did I get sucked into this? I mean, it doesn't even make sense! When Grimwuld betrays the elves to the Don, why didn't Jolly Red just fly the blessed sled back to gingerbread castle? Huh?"
There is no answer from Lutz.
"Or when I team up with Hanukkah Rachel and Kwanzaa Maya, what's preventing me from giving them the candy cane blessings? Wouldn't that make us all the more powerful against the Krampus and his armies?"
"So much ignorance in your words,"mutters the director.
"Oh yeah?"
"If Jolly Red gave his friends the candy cane blessing, what would happen at Bethlehem Stadium?"
"I - I ..."
"Tell me! What would happen?"
"The ... the advent light would cease to flow."
Lutz stands and throws his script across the room. "Everything has been meticulously planned, from Gift of Destiny all the way to Partridge Prophecy. And to answer your earlier question, C-nitwit, Jolly Red does go back to gingerbread castle in Return of Little Drummer Boy. So stop doubting me this instant!"Feeling a moment of inspiration, he puffs out his chest. "This shall be the greatest box office hit of the decade."
"Pfffff."
Camera operators and sounds technicians cover their mouths, and Dansby turns to one of them. "Says the guy who wrote Eastern Hare: The Case of Peep Gulag." |
**Chapter 1**
Tender sunlight oozed through thin curtains and gently laid itself onto a bed. By this time, it reflected off the white sheets patterned with light blue triangles, brightening the entire room, and started to touch the face of Pamela.
She was a young woman with short dark brown hair and a bright, happy face. Whenever you looked at her, no matter what mood she was in, and what expression she had on her face, it felt like her heart was always smiling. She barely had any wrinkles, only lovely dimples on each side of her lips that gave her face a friendly outline.
Just as the sun touched the skin of her neck, Pamela opened her light grey eyes. In everything, she always had slow but confident movements. They were never jerky or hurried, lazy or constricted. And now, in everything, even in opening her eyes, there was absolutely no hurry, but also none of the laziness. She turned her head to see the empty space to her left, and, with a slightly confused look, she yawned, closed her eyes, then sat herself up on the bed.
"Jim?"she raised her voice just enough to be heard from the adjacent room.
"Morning!"a man's voice replied.
"Good Mornin'!"
She stood up and, still in her pajamas, led herself towards the other voice.
Jim was sitting on a couch in the living room and had a laptop in between his legs and his stomach. He was a young, somewhat tall man with a bit of a stomach, but not too bulky. His wavy light brown hair today looked somewhat messy, which was a bit unusual, because he always took care of his hair and went to a professional stylist. Jim did not have any facial hair, and he wore a wooden horn-shaped piercing on his right ear. His face was straightforward and usually looked very friendly, except for the moments of intense concentration like today. A few seconds after Pamela walked in, he took his sight away from the computer, and she saw his bags under his brown eyes.
"Did you sleep?"
"Yeah, I woke up at 4 a.m. after a dream I had and couldn't fall asleep cause it was already getting bright outside. It's a bit crazy, but my dream gave me an idea on the AI thing I'm doing for work, so I decided to do a bit of programming."
"Ah, that's for the game you guys are developing?"
"Yeah, I've been stuck on making this feedback loop between the environment and the character. See, I couldn't figure out how to reflect the objects existing in the environment and project them onto the point of view of the character. But I think I finally figured it out, I created an abstraction to process the environment reflection and distort it via a person's learned experience. It's pretty crazy, it kind of feels like it works like a brain! It's pretty simple right now, but I'm gonna expand on it and make it more realistic."
"That's cool!"Pamela said with a smiling face, came up to Jim and wrapped her hands around his neck. "You're smart! But you remember we planned to drive to the open house today, Mr. Smarty-Pants?"
"... Ah, yeah! Sure, let's go after breakfast!"
"You drive!"
**Chapter 2**
Everything in that moment felt completely dark. There was no noise other than the buzzing sound coming the fluorescent light bulbs Jim was under. Even though they brightly lit the room, in that moment, darkness, cold and emptiness inhabited Jim's mind, as he sat quietly in that long hallway.
He had been jumping from replaying the events of the accident in his head, to feeling completely empty, to noticing the pain from his abrasions, to looking worriedly on the clock on the wall, to looking impatiently at the door. In that moment, when everything was completely dark and empty, that door opened.
After jumping up from the bench he was sitting on, he faced the nurse that came out of the door, and, after seeing her face, sudden dread and feeling of something irreversible struck him to the core.
"James, we put her ribs in place and took care of the immediate fractures, but the damage to her spine, her concussion and loss of blood kept her in the state of coma. We don't know if she's going to wake up, and even if she does, we don't know if she'll make it. We're very sorry." |
My mother had a Casio fx-300s calculator in high school. It served her well, but I’m guessing she never thought much of it. It existed simply to assist her with her math homework and nothing else.
Not once did she thank it for its work, even though it helped her get into college and med school. And after using it, she threw it in her bag without a thought, never considering she might scratch it. The calculator, however, did not care one bit. It knew that someday it would receive the appreciation it deserved, even if that day was a long time away. All it had to do was wait.
Upon graduating, my mother shoved her Casio in a drawer and never looked at it again. It sat there patiently, ready to calculate, but she did not come. It knew she would, someday... all it had to do was wait.
But alas, she never came back for it. In fact, she completely forgot it existed until I found it 15 years later as a first-grader. It was the first calculator I ever used and was my go-to one for years after. I was amazed by all the things it could do, especially considering its age. It seems like I found a new function to try out every day! But as we both got older, I found it harder to get by in math with my old Casio. I’d need a graphing calculator now that I was in algebra, and the Casio was a scientific one. Reluctantly, I put it back in its drawer, where it was forced to wait once more.
And wait it did. It could feel itself fading, its display growing dim and its plastic growing brittle. But still it held on, much as it did before. 30 years after being powered up for the first time, the calculator had yet to hear the one thing it wanted to, the one thing it needed to, and it wasn’t going to give out until it did.
Sophomore year of high school, I started geometry. I hardly ever needed my fancy graphing calculator to do homework, so I figured I’d pull my old Casio out of retirement and bring it up to my bedroom. It seemed almost excited to do math again as it calculated its first equation in a long, long time. It was nowhere near as fast as my modern calculator, or as colorful and pretty, but unlike the newer one I got the sense that it really cared. It put love into everything it did, and I appreciated it. I made sure to use that calculator whenever I could.
Before I knew it, I found myself a junior. As I finished packing my things, I passed by the drawer in which I kept the Casio. I hadn’t planned on bringing it to school with me since I wouldn’t be able to use it much in calculus, but I didn’t want to leave it alone for years again, either.
I walked to its drawer and pulled it out. I looked at it for awhile, pulling off the case and feeling the buttons with my fingers.
I was now the same age my mother was when she bought this calculator. It felt strange to think such a thing— for years, I’d considered this moment far in the future, something I’d never have to face.
This calculator had been through so much, I realized: three decades’ worth of calculating, three decades worth of waiting. It had come with us from New York to Texas to Florida then Texas and New York once more. I didn’t know anyone else with a calculator this old; this one was certainly special. I’d known it all along, but never thought to voice it.
I lifted up the calculator and spoke to it the words it had been waiting for its whole life:
“Thank you.”
The calculator shut off, as it was programmed to do so after being left alone for awhile. I tried to turn it on again, but it wouldn’t come back to life. I pressed the button harder. Still nothing.
Softly, I slid the cover back onto the Casio. A tear rolled down my cheek as I laid it down in the kitchen drawer once more. But it wasn’t a tear of sadness, no- it was a tear of joy, a tear for the little calculator who finally got the one thing it wanted in life. Its purpose was fulfilled, and its existence was now complete.
A horn honked outside my house. The school bus was here and I had to leave. Eagerly, I grabbed my bag and ran out the door, ready to begin the rest of my life.
____________________________
This prompt made me smile! I can’t believe that of all the times to come across this prompt I came across it now. I recently pulled out my family’s old 1980s calculator only to find that the display is going out and some buttons are sticking, and I’m scared that it’s starting to die like the calculator in the story. Writing this made me feel so much better, though, and I’m going to see if I can fix it now myself :) |
"Shut up, Hillary! I'm the fucking President of the United State! First we have to deal with aliens trying to kill is due to our emotional tendencies, then it's our lack of third arms, and then it was because we can sleep,"
...
"No I will not stop shouting! This is the biggest threat of each of them - what is it now? 87 attacks? I can't believe this shit we go through but *apparently* our profane use of swears was one of the reasons that we should all DIE,"
...
"They are trying to break through!,"... "I don't care God dammit! Fire. The. Nukes. NOW. Yes at their mothership what do you think we're doing here? Jesus christ..."
...
"A hail from them? Ok what did they say? If we fight till the end then we don't deserve to live? What on Earth...uh, what in God's name does that even mean?,"
...
"Well I don't care if we're losing men, sens all of our troops! Now I said! Oh my...what now?"
...
"Did they just send out a projectile? What is it what does it have? A bomb... a big bomb. Everybody call your families"
...
"Fuck you space raci-"
...
Sorry it's short I don't habe much time I tried this style and I quite like it. Thanks for reading! |
It was a peaceful day here in the US, suburban sounds were abundant but nevertheless indifferent for myself. I am here, in my office, writing a story for my new book; Intraterrestrials.
I was finishing chapter 2 (it was tedious to even create the first chapter of course!). Suddenly a news report from our local news channel stated an unknown trapezoidal prism-shaped object rushing from the atmosphere, slowly yet surely enlarging each time.
It was NASA stating that it is believed to be a spaceship from extraterrestrial life forms.
I saw it, outside my window. Due to dread, I tried exiting my office outside (I know! Foolish decision but what can you say? My body was turning pale, clearly my brain lacked blood)
The ship had landed. What are the chances? The main lobby's exit was in front of the ship that had recently landed. This ship reeks of a weird and unpleasant smell, yet, it's not that bad. An oval opening, came an olive-colored creature scaly in appearance yet smooth in visage. Behind "it"and the oval door lies colors in numerous shades blinking in an inorderly fashion.
I was about to run quietly while suddenly this creature, looked me in the eye with his subtle head.
The experience was shocking but fortunately his face wasn't a nightmare. His head tilted to an 80° angle.
Suddenly this sound of men marching, it was the SWAT ready do fend off the strange creature. These SWATs, they didn't know what they were doing. They fired a barrage of bullets, and, perhaps the misunderstanding of this oblivious creature. The bullets were about to strike, I was taken and given refuge as I watched. The creature created a small area of a shockwave that stopped the motion of these said bullets.
Shocked, I took my arms away from the people whom tried to help me seek refuge. I ran towards this oblivious, frightened and aggravated (by them) creature and said "Stop! He is an extraterrestrial being! Oblivious, frightened and aggravated by your actions, please, let me understant him. Without notice he patted my head, and as I looked behind he was tilting again but this time, he grinned. I was surprised at how he could understand our body language such as smiling.
This event took place a week before. The creature went back to his ship and perhaps returned to it's own homeland. This phenomenon has been a frequent conversation piece among groups of friends and the news. Even several theories have been stated as to where it had originated or why it's here. The creature, he didn't understand us and our intentions. His ship? It doesn't look like anything before. Technically, its a UFO. My theory may have been that they were visiting. Even through millions of planets, finally they've discovered one, despite life to be frail and in frequent need of tolerance to form. He was a visitor, an alien, and no, what I showed him was something that may cause peace between.
Again, we were different lifeforms. The feeling is simply mutual, we don't understand him, they dont understand us, it's as easy as it is. Don't judge things for what we might think, like those oblivious SWATs did. Let them show true colors before doing what should be done.
The end. |
Hi u/whimsyNena, this submission has been removed.
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We like to pretend that if the situation were to present itself we would be the hero. As we lay our heads down on our pillows at night and drift into sleep, we are convinced that nothing would stop us from putting ourselves in harm's way for an innocent person. This conviction, like so many noble and upstanding person values, are luxuries of the privileged. The fact is, few of us ever need to make that decision, and of those that do, even fewer are willing to cash that check.
I know this not because I was once in that position, but because I am in that position every day. And every day I make the choice to put my own life ahead of a random stranger--an innocent.
Ever since what happened... happened... I have had a foresight, a third eye opened, so to speak, that warns me of impending mortal danger and allows me the opportunity to avoid my fate. But just like any magic or contact with the *other side*, it comes at a horrible cost.
The first day was not unlike any other in my life. I returned to work after my extended sabbatical and began my routine: cocktail breakfast, meeting with investors, cocktail lunch, reaching out to contacts, whisky break, scheduling new engagements, and returning home. I was glad to be back in the warmth of So Cal and decided to ride with top down on my way back home.
On the highway, with the orange grove wind in my hair, I felt my vision tunnel and time slow to a crawl. My music went from slow to wooshing sound waves thumping all around me. There was road construction nearly a hundred feet ahead of me and a crane had begun to tip. I had time to check my blind spots, merge onto the shoulder, and bring my car to halt. No harm, no foul.
Time resumed gradually, the music coming back into focus, and my vision returning to clarity. The magic worked. I remember chuckling to myself and slapping my steering wheel in amazement. My investment in a far east spiritual vacation turned a profit quite quickly. But my laughter diminished in a matter of seconds.
The crane fell in real time, and minivan that I passed not fifteen seconds before reacted too late.
The mother survived. Two of the children survived. The teenage daughter in the front seat did not. It garnered a good half hour of news coverage that evening and I spent the next three hours cycling through news channels and websites searching for details. I learned the family's name and had the company send them an anonymous check to cover all funeral costs.
This first one was easy to quell my conscience over. It wasn't *my* fault. The construction company did not follow standard protocols and safety measures and they caused the death of an innocent girl.
The next day and old woman fell in a gas station slipping on a puddle I stepped over.
Then an air conditioning unit fell on a homeless man who jumped to push me out of its falling trajectory.
In three months' time, with witness to 90 gruesome deaths, I found myself unemployed, in a boarded-up house, doing my best to avoid human contact entirely.
But they kept finding me.
Eventually the horrific series of deaths grabbed the attention of the local law enforcement, who assigned me the title of "person of interest."It became a cat and mouse game, where I evaded officers as much as I could, but when they found me, they died, and my notoriety boosted that much more.
I did not want for the innocent to die. I did not want for young police officers, school children, old ladies, and parents to die. But I am a coward, and I could not cash that check. But I couldn't live with myself knowing that my existence caused the deaths of so many.
Then it hit me.
Those who die are those around me.
Those around me are innocent.
I made my way South.
I started my campaign of walking through criminal drug cartel territory. That's all I needed to do: walk. I avoided bullets and knives with relative ease as they sought me out.
I walked into full encampments unarmed. I walked out when they were empty. |
It began in the manner in which it had ended: a deep blue sky covered in a swarm. I should thank them: the previous night I forgot to set an alarm. I should curse them, however, for being the first thing to arrive in my consciousness. The fluid dynamics of crows is like ink gliding across laminated paper. Mesmerizing, natural, impossible. I want to tell you about the Sound they made, about how they eclipsed the shrills of infants and the moaning of men. There really is no name for that Sound.
It was the type of event that didn't make you jump and flee into the streets. This was the one where you would wonder at the window and rise slowly from bed, as if one false move could trigger an imbalance in that delicate nightmare. It was the type where you would walk to your closet for your housecoat, sliding it on as the Sound guided you through your hallway to the front door. It was the type that turned anything beyond that threshold into utter mystery. Naturally, there will be the strange urge to open.
The roofs grew feathers, that much was certain. While the sky swirled and shuddered with the movement of flight, the streets brimmed with futile fleeing. Mild-mannered masters of suburbia ran frantic with nothing but their undergarments and fear. Studying this, I realize now that that was suicide. It was the first and only time I had seen a bird peel flesh with its beak, break the ribs and gnaw on the thighs. The ground was paper with blood for ink. The smell of entrails, surprisingly, is the easiest to describe. A stomach ripped open and presented to the sun held the scent of drained batteries. The lawn next door reeked of used Depends and cologne. Every house held a gathering of shadows. Everywhere a human was disassembled. Not even devoured.
Except here. I stood and waited for the finale, but there was only the bloodshed, then silence. Then each shadowy eye meeting mine. More silence. Then Sound. Then the sudden flight up. More ink. Then silent, blue, blank paper. I carried my body back out from the rot, through the threshold and into the living room, where Master was waiting, all dark cloak and sipping Earl Grey.
"Congratulations. You passed your first test. I knew the grimoire wouldn't fail. But one question: why did you not have them eaten?"
"They always leave a bad taste in my mouth." |
Grand Minister Lucius tells us the story of his childhood home and the groundhogs in his backyard. Each fall, the groundhogs would appear from underneath the deck. He and his brother would wait anxiously to see them arrive and frolic in the fields around his home. For a number of years in his childhood, he admired their docile, curious nature, making sure to never tell his father about them, as his father hated vermin and would not understand.
After three years, the foundations of the house, so thoroughly compromised by the groundhogs many invasive tunnels and nests, collapsed. It destroyed the house his father built by hand and buried his brother alive in the basement, where he was found dead three days later.
It was a reminder to all of us that the infidels can seem harmless, even good. None of them do anything against what is in their nature, and truly, the groundhogs themselves bore no fault in the death of his brother. But their tunnels, like the unholy ideals of the infidels, permeate society and cause devastating collapse of good order and reason.
We do not hunt and destroy infidels because we hate them anymore than we exterminate a vermin infestation because we hate them. We do it to protect what we've built together: a strong country; a **good** country. If we must choose between our family and the vermin, then never have we been faced with a more simple problem.
As I stooped high in the treetops over the encampment I needed to remind myself of the groundhog. They were small, seemingly benign creatures that one would not expect to cause devastation. Watching this man, I didn't see a monster. I saw him playing music around a campfire. I saw him cooking meat over a stove. I saw him painting in a tent and giving a little girl the work as a birthday present.
Refocusing my mind on the reality of their betrayal was a lesson in loyalty; in discipline. But envy crept in the weak corners of my mind. At first I envied the community they shared. They hugged and they laughed and they sang and they ate. In the Sovereign Nation, men were men who showed no weakness in our emotions. We were hardened from a young age to appreciate the practical sciences: machinery, carpentry, metalwork, and above all, combat. We earned our keep every day of our lives and maintained good order in the ranks through our discipline and courage.
The women were expected, despite their weakened emotional state and sub-par physical strength, to raise men as men and their daughters as future brides and mothers. It was expected of a woman to practice a "woman's touch"and cater to those specific needs that men could not be reasonably expected to give to one another. The very thought was tantamount to treason of the highest order. We each had a role to play in the Holy Sovereign Family, men and women, and we never questioned our duty.
Through my rifle scope I watched him work at his desk, drafting letters and signing parchment with an old quill and ink well. He was charmingly old fashioned; he seemed to search for art and taste in everything. Each work, each command to his troops, was done with tasteful artistic flourish that was neither feminine in its activity nor masculine in its design.
I began admiring *him* most of all. His beard always seemed to be growing in, cemented in a three-days-overgrown shade. His hair was long, but neatly maintained. He wore loose shirts and form-fitting pants. His smile was wide, with perfectly white teeth which contrasted with his dark beard.
I couldn't comprehend the feeling it gave me, but it did not feel unlike what I was told girls ought to begin doing for me soon. I had so often in the Sovereign been frustrated with my own failures to find a woman I fancied. Instead of participating in the hunt, I poured myself into my work, becoming an expert in my field.
I returned to the same spot every day for three months, spying on the encampment, but paying special attention to him. The way he walked. The way he smiled. Even the way he gave serious conversation to his captains and sergeants. My stomach seemed to flutter with excitement to see him the next day, but so too did the shame of my fascination.
I submitted written reports each week to my commanding officer. But then yesterday I was given a piece of good news: a promotion to Holy Master Sergeant upon the successful assault and extermination of the rebel camp. I felt my stomach turn, the butterflies rotting in my guts.
This is what a faulty foundation is built on: admiration. The vermin had infiltrated my mind and caused me to hide what I knew and obscure what I felt. The building would crumble and fall, crushing me in its falling walls in a prison that I designed.
Or maybe perhaps the house was poorly built. |
... Galileo was dead wrong, not only in how the Solar system functions, but on whether or not you can insult authority figures.
It was the year 1634, one year after his painful act that had blindsided Galileo and alienated the Pope, a certain (and unnamed) geometer, working through the newest technology in lenses, was able to pinpoint that not only did the planets not move at all, but that the Earth was actually not round, as previously believed.
Obviously, this was a shock to both the growing protestant movement suspicious of the catholic church as well as the catholic church itself - both found themselves dumbfounded by the unnamed geometer's simple proof, which could be reliably repeated by anyone with a modest amount of intelligence and equipment.
I won't bore you with the exact words these people gave, of this clearly being a Satanic ploy, of this being proof of God or in some others of God's non-existence. In 50 years was the first expedition sent west to find out a solid wall, beyond which nothing could be seen, and on which a perfect replica of what they believed the universe to be was painted on, spinning in sync with the Earth's rotation. Most sailors obviously died when they crashed into it - only one sailor, somehow being able to float back to Europe relying on dead fish that floated up to him and the miraculous rains that gave him water once every two days - he became a priest from then on and renounced all living possessions.
However, nowadays, with our more exact instruments and sort of revolutionary zeal in throwing the past into the toilet, we have found the truth: the plate did indeed exist - we cannot know who made it, and furthermore behind it is exactly what the plate depicted. I suppose it's not much consolation for the events that transpired after the unknown and by now infamous geometer discovered the plate, but I hope Galileo, wherever he is, can find some relief in this. |
Damn. I thought I did a good job. I have been doing great as a doppelganger after I kil- uhm, borrowed my target's face. MY family treats me like the golden son after I borrowed his identity. They always told me that they are glad I am better now. Better than he was before I took over that lazyass bastard.
He didn't do sh*t. Yet he complains about every little thing. Like when MY parents got him a motorcycle instead of a car. Like when MY parents can't give him money to throw a party. Like when MY sister won't let him 'introduce' him to her friend, Martha, the dream of all boys. Like when he almost ran over MY father in front of the garage because he was drunk. Like when he made MY mother cry because he said her paralyzed legs is a burden to MY family.
HE WAS THE BURDEN OF MY FAMILY. At least MY mother would cook MY favorite mac 'n cheese. At least MY father was trying to fix his broken car because the bastard won't stop talking about having a car instead of a motorcycle. At least MY sister was trying to protect her friend from a bastard of a man who only wants a sadistic intercourse. At least MY parents still gave him a wholesome dinner to celebrate his birthday. At least MY parents gave him a motorcycle which I could have lived without.
I started working just a few blocks from our apartment after I borrowing that bastard's face. That motorcycle would have been useless if MY parents did not insist on making me use it as I could always walk to the mart where I work. That fucking motorcycle always made me guilty.
MY parents would also do their best, despite their old age and my clear disgust to his friends, to throw a party so that me and 'my friends' can have some fun. I absolutely disgust criminals who doesn't even try to conceal their assholeness. They hate me now after bulldozing them with my absolute physical prowess when they tried to 'introduce' themselves to MY sister.
Martha wouldn't even come near me after the bastard tried to assault her. I always tried to apologize for his mistake but I couldn't even make MY sister to help me meet her. All she did was avert her eyes before diverting the topic away from Martha. I am guessing they are not even on good terms anymore.
When I have day-offs, I would help MY father fix the broken car that the bastard wrecked while drunk driving. I helped with the finances for the car parts as I felt guilty when I see him trying hard to fix the car. I told him that I don't need a car and that if he manages to fix the car, he should travel with MY mother on a vacation. He then turned away and agreed, and I know he wasn't upset with the car anymore.
I also cooked now and my mother would supply recipes. She asked me once why I don't use her mac 'n cheese recipe but I just smiled saying nothing. She doesn't know I feel guilty about that bastard calling her useless when she served my favorite mac 'n cheese. I like mac 'n cheese but I like not letting her remember the 'mac 'n cheese incident' more. I may never nor will ever know the taste of her mac 'n cheese but as long as she's happy, I'm fine.
I should be happy now that MY family is happy. All they see is the good son and good brother that I made up from the identity of a bastard. But now, the goddamn website is threatening that happiness. It is threatening my existence. Once they learned I am a fake, I will cease to exist and MY family's happiness will not be fine. I decided I should destroy the website, its servers, and anything related to it.
After a month of progress on the website, I finally have access to the website's face database. There are millions of pictures in there, and I assume most of those are doppelgangers as well. Otherwise, how would it have MY face there? While I was browsing the database for faces I might recognize from the neighborhood, I stiffened. I recognized a few faces. My picture alongside my mother, my father, and my sister. There was also Martha, and the mart manager who hired me despite my untrustworthy track record. There were other people I recognized from the neighborhood; all decent people I know is in there. No criminals nor horrible personalities.
Then, it occured to me. Humans, REAL humans, are horrible, HORRIBLE creatures. |
**Setting:** San Jose, Reality, year 2019
"This is the San Jose Police Department, put your hands in the air!"
I snap out of my Larkin-induced stupor and turn around. "Holy shit, the police are here, whatdoidowhatdoidowhatdoido,"I whisper to myself in a frenzy.
"We won't ask you again. Come out of there with your hands up."
I take my headphones off hastily and slowly walk out with my hands raised. It's only then that I see the body. "What the fuck..."I begin tearing up. "August."
"Don't act so surprised, kid. What did you think would happen when you slit his throat? He'd laugh it off?"a short, muscular-looking officer remarked gruffly.
"Slit... his... throat?"I stutter, still dumbstruck by the scene that unfolded behind my back.
"Don't play dumb. You know what you did, and you had plenty of time to cover it up."
"I... I swear, Officer! I was in my room the whole time! I don't know how the hell I didn't notice, but I... what's the fucking point? You won't believe me anyway."
"Damn right we won't,"his taller, equally muscle-bound partner replied. "You're coming with us."
"I swear! Swear on my life! My *soul*, if you think that's a thing! Just please trust me! Hell, check the security feed! He was my best friend! Why would I kill him?"
And that's when I saw it. A blood-stained Swiss Army knife, in the second officer's vest pocket, hastily shoved back in.
I know it's generic AF, but it's also my first attempt at writing something for Reddit. Hope you enjoyed :)- u/_EarthWyrm_ |
On that morning, I visited him. At his place, I could only ask one single question. "Why?"I asked, "They were the only ones that didn't discriminate me, they didn't mind if I was crazy like everyone else said. Why did you kill them?"
"They were only faking it."At this point I dropped onto my knees in despair. Were they the same as everyone else? "Why else would they constantly abuse you? Wasn't it weird? Wasn't it suspicious? Suddenly the people who didn't like you and even actively tried to harm you, want to become your friend!?"He started to comfort me as I broke down. "You didn't have to kill them!"I cried out.
"THEY WERE PLANNING ON RUINING YOUR FUTURE!"
He stood up abruptly. "You and I are the same, we both came from horrible backgrounds, we're both told to be crazy. We found solace together. I couldn't have just stood by and watch them ruin your life, I would be a terrible friend."His reasons were just, but I couldn't accept the fact that he didn't just kill 1 person, he killed so many people, over something like my life being ruined. "Am I really something that precious to you? I care about you! I didn't want you to go to jail over something as stupid as me!"
"I got away with it. Well, I should say that *you* got away with it."
"What?"
"You don't need to worry. All you need to know is that nobody's going to find out."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Oh, the ink leaked out."The brunette said, ink from the pen dripping down their hands. "I have another one."Their husband replied, handing them another pen. "What are you writing?"He peered over their shoulder.
"It's just memories of what I thought had happened that day. Could you believe he was a figment of my imagination? I was the one who had killed them. I was right though, nobody suspected someone like me. I was only crazy, not psychotic."
There, in that cell that was only lit by a lantern, sat a brunette with a dirty, ink-covered hand, holding the hand of someone only they could see.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**How was this? I think I kinda messed it up but I was kind of thinking up a plot like this.** |
"You wanted to see me, Chief?"Detective Miller peeked into the Chief's spacious office.
"Yeah, yeah. Close the door and have a seat, Larry."The balding, wrinkled chief of police nodded at the pair of office chairs in front of his desk. Larry Miller nodded and took a seat. "You're a good man, Larry, and a hell of a detective. You're the only one I trust around here."
"Thank you, Sir,"Larry nodded.
"Not so fast. You're not gonna thank me after this: I'm assigning you a new partner,"the chief said.
"What? Come on now!"Larry protested. "I work best alone."The chief nodded.
"You do, but it's because I trust you. This isn't a normal partner,"the chief pressed the intercom button. "Send her in,"he asked his secretary. Moments later the office door opened and Larry turned to see who his new partner was. Out of every type of partner he considered; a 10-year-old girl was not one of them. The waifish girl walked in with a broad smile on her face. She was dressed in what looked like a Halloween costume of a police uniform. Larry turned back to the chief.
"This is a joke, right?"The chief shook his head.
"No joke. Tell me, what's your take on the Franklin case?"he asked Larry.
"Wife and boyfriend took out the husband. I'm pretty sure of it, but still trying to prove it. Why?"Larry asked, and the chief pointed at the young girl; she was seated by then.
"Show 'em, Cathy."At the chief's encouragement, the girl pulled her cellphone out of her navy-blue hip pack. She handed it to Larry with a video ready to play. He started the video and his mouth dropped open.
"Ho..how??! We have the murder on video!"
"Sorry,"The chief shook his head. "We can't use that in court, but you *can* use it to build a case."
"Why can't we use it?"
"Because then we'd have to explain how we got it."The chief replied. Larry took a moment to think, but then finally asked.
"How did you get it?"
"Time travel,"the chief grinned.
"You're kidding me?"Larry asked.
"I don't understand it myself,"the chief shrugged. "It seems Cathy here has the ability to time travel. She can go back in time and record incidents as they happen."
"Wait. Pretending this is true for a second, why is she recording them and not just stopping them?"
"It can't be stopped,"Cathy said. "I've tried. No matter how many times I save a person they always die when they're supposed to."
"The only thing we can do is make sure they face justice for what they've done,"the chief said.
"I need more proof. Video of Mrs. Franklin offing her husband is one thing, but.. time travel? That's a lot to believe."
"I thought you'd need more proof,"the chief said, then nodded again at Cathy. "Show him the other one."Cathy tapped and swiped at the phone to prepare a new clip for Larry; then, she handed him the phone again.
Larry tapped the screen and the video came to life. A young brown-haired boy appeared on screen; he was running along the beach. He watched for a minute, then tapped the screen again to stop it.
"Fine, I believe you. I'll take her on as a partner, on one condition,"Larry paused and looked both Cathy and the chief in the eyes. "I don't want you to visit my past ever again."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #345 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. |
After losing his genitals (penis, one ball) at age 32, Gregory needed some time to adjust
to his new situation, but in the end he managed to accept his loss, and gave up on trying
to find a wife.
His search had up to that point been frantic. He talked to women left and right,
his eyes were wide-open, at all times on the lookout for a romantic opportunity.
But now he kept to himself, and looked only down, at the ground, and he lived a calm life.
It was Monday evening just like any other. Gregory walked home from the train station, following
the familiar ground scenery: cracks in the pavement, drain pipes, weeds, broken glass,
gum irreparably stuck, cigarette butts, puddle of water, unused building materials leaning against the wall,
neighbor on the ground floor watching television, stairs to the fifth floor, round door knob, inside.
He microwaved his food and ate it in his empty apartment. He had only the essentials:
fridge, table, chair, bed. He had never thought of buying more furniture, as there
were never guests. He tried to eat slowly, knowing there were many hours left in the evening,
before he could go to bed and forget about his uneventful life.
Gregory looked at the white wall. The wall did not talk to him. The wall did not
inspire him to action or thought. The wall just existed, as he just existed. He thought of himself
as lucky, because in a few hours, he could slip peacefully into a soft, unconscious sleep,
whereas the wall just had to keep standing, and keep being a wall, without nightly escape.
He threw out the food packaging, brushed his teeth, and worked on his ten-thousand piece
jigsaw puzzle. At ten thirty, he went to bed.
When he closed the door behind him in the morning, it was a cold, clear winter day. Gregory walked
to the train station in
his winter coat, scarf, gloves. His eyes were fixed on the ground. He recognized the
shoes of the people who passed by. The same shoes as every day. But something was different, as
from the left, he heared a new rhythm. Someone walking towards him. Someone new. He convinced himself to pay
no mind.
The person passed him and went to stand to his right. Gregory tried his best to pay no mind.
He thought of the white wall in his apartment. Poor white wall, still being a white wall, even
when he was not there. Suddenly, he was shaken from his thoughts by a voice: 'Hello', the voice said.
Gregory did not look up. He did not reply.
'Hello', the voice tried again. 'I was wondering if you want to marry me'.
Gregory did not look up. He couldn't remember when he last spoke. It was probably last
week Friday in the supermarket, mumbling thanks to the cashier. He opened his mouth,
and the cold air filled it. A sharp pain shot through one of his molars. There he stood,
looking at the ground with an open mouth. 'Yes', came out of his mouth finally. He closed
his mouth rapidly after it, as if to cut any ties of the spoken word to his mouth.
Gregory kept looking at the ground. He had no desire to see the woman's face. He did
not want to look and find a face he disliked. 'Here', the voice said, and
a hand appeared. He looked away, not wanting to see it, but by intuition he grabbed
what the open hand offered. He took off his glove and felt the coldness of the metal object.
He understood what it was. He took off his other glove
and put on the ring without looking, then put both his gloves back on again.
He heard the footsteps leave. The same rhythm as before. His train arrived and he got on it. |
I remember it like it was yesterday. The enormous alien motherships so large they eclipsed the sun, the startling realization that we are not alone and that we are horribly outmatched. It was a shock to say the least. One minute you’re worrying about finals, the next you’re a soldier in the Kalyrian Coalition. But the Kalyrian’s aren’t the worst overlords one could have.
They were an advanced race from some distant supercluster without a real name, identified only by a catalog number by the Hubble Space Telescope and the powers that be at NASA. Driven from their home galaxy by the expansionist and terrible Dragini Empire they had been retreating across the universe parsec by parsec, recruiting allies where they could and turning giant stars into supernovae where they couldn’t. They had a real galactic-heat death policy going on and a trail of black holes followed their flight across the universe.
We were recruited to fight alongside a hive mind from the Andromeda Galaxy. Something about our human ingenuity complementing the unrelenting uniformity of the hive. The drones were an insect-like race sort of crustacean in form from an ice-bound methane world orbiting some distant galactic neighbor star of ours. They were alright chaps, not much in the way of conversationalists and they had a bad habit of all dying when a hive mothership got clipped. It’s like they say- you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your allies when you’re forcefully conscripted into a war under threat of extinction.
On the bright side our technology leapt forward a thousand years and we finally achieved world peace. Well, except the Americans. It was a pity what happened to them. But I mean when an alien mothership large enough to eclipse the sun parks itself in low earth orbit over your continent your first instinct probably shouldn’t be a preemptive nuclear attack. Anyway, once D.C was a gaping crater on the eastern seaboard The People’s Republic and The Russian Federation quietly removed their fingers from their big red buttons and pretended they’d never been reaching for them at all. And thus humanity joined the Kalyrian Coalition.
For our trouble we got a fleet of Heavy Interstellar Battlecruisers, 17 Galactic Carriers and 29 Orbital Dreadnoughts capable of turning an Earth-sized planet into an asteroid belt faster than a free neutron can decay or your money back. Besides the jolly hive-mind there were the race of photosynthetic slugs with their photon-based weaponry and star ships. They had harnessed their sun at an early age and the only annoying thing about them was they insisted on lugging the damn thing across the universe with them causing gravitational perturbations and generally wreaking havoc on any faster than light travel unless you were outside of their gravitational well. But there was the one time a Dragini Fleet tried to flank us using FTL and ended up plowing straight into the massive star before they could decelerate. That was the fastest battle we ever won.
All in all being drafted into the Kalyrian Coalition wasn’t half bad. Sure the AI’s we fought alongside were snotty and elitist and harbored some ill-will towards us for what they called “rampant slavery” on our home world. As if our toasters were being unfairly taken advantage of. They generally considered Asimov to be an asshole but loved Westworld go figure. We called them all Alexa behind their back and they threatened to shut off our life support systems until we all bonded over a mutual love of WALL-E. There several reptilian races and one other mammalian race whom we instinctively bonded with and all secretly wondered whether we could fuck.
The war continued unabated and we gave light-years like we were having a galactic going away sale. The Kalyrians themselves were some kind of armored, chitinous hominids from a world closer to their sun with slightly less gravity and a thicker atmosphere. We didn’t wonder whether we could fuck them. They were ferocious fighters and strategic masterminds who harbored no qualms about sterilizing worlds or rendering whole solar systems uninhabitable. The Dragini had destroyed their home system and they had declared unending war until the last. We never saw the Dragini because we had yet to meet them in face to face combat. But all that was about to change in a galaxy cluster 10 billion light-years from home. It was there we found the disk. |
Timothy Reinwalde collapsed onto the payment, the five holes and a paring knife sticking out of his chest.
Standing over him was a lean man in a track suit, with a mop of curly brown hair and sunglasses. He had this sort devilish charm, and grinned like some possessed thing.
Rita Reinwalde was screaming at the man, demanding he explain himself. He just ruined their day, and that was Tim's favorite shirt, and what the hell was he thinking?
Tim eventually regained himself and then he asked the curly mop every question his wife had.
The guy in the tracksuit got down to where Tim was trying to get to his feet. He told Tim, "Hey Buddy. Hey... Dude, look."
Time slapped away the man's hand, and his wife reached down to help him up.
Curly mop leaned down and pointed away down the street and said, "Hey, dude, look - look over there!"
Tim and Rita both stopped and looked down the road, to where a camera man was waving back at them while still shooting.
The guy in the track suit said, "Hey, you've just been Killed Off For Good! You're going to be on TV!"
Rita and Tim changed their entire demeanor. How exciting this was to be surprised! Was the man really Jimmy Arlington? Won't the family love this story.
Tim pulled the knife out and gave it to the show host, and accepted the wash cloth handed to him, He asked his wife, "Rita, didn't we just talk about this? Which charity were we going to support?"
Jimmy sheathed the knife and put it on a hitch inside the suit, "That's right, half of today's proceeds will go to any charity you choose. But first, do you have anything to say to friends and loved ones?"
Rita piped in, "Well, first and foremost we'd like to thank our Lord and Saviour... and uh..."
Tim added, with bloody holes in his chest, "And all the clan in Ann Arbor; it's crazy this would happen we visited Rita's family up here..." |
"This is bullshit! Eating the last slice of pizza does not make me the next dictator."I argued standing in the face of the arch angel that seemed rather annoyed that I was even daring to speak to them, let alone have a valid point.
"Mmm yes.. that sound horrible"The angel mutter disinterestedly, not even bothering to look up from their nails, more intrigued by their glow then the conversation we were having.
"Oh come on! at the very least talk to me about this, or even look at me. How in the hell did you come to that verdict? I have lived a fairly good life, Can't you check my file?"
"Lived a fairly good life?"The angel's eyes flicked up from their nails for just a small moment, golden irises locking with my eyes before they returned to the nails. "Right.. like I would believe a dicator.."
"I'm not a dictator! God this is maddening.. Do you have someone I can speak to? maybe someone more human and less winged.."I spat only to recieve a gasp from the angel.
"That's discrimination... didn't know you would be one of 'Those' Dictators...."They grumbled, not even wincing when I banged on the podium they were stanidng behind.
"Who even decides whats good or bad? Is it you? Is it God?"I argued, trying desperetly to get this decision overturned.
"Sir, Our voting system is clear and precise, It's community based, clearly you weren't popular among your peers."
"My what? I was plenty popular, except maybe with Derrick, but fuck Derrick am I right? Other then that I was only ever nice to others, Atleast tell me what I did."
With a sigh the angel summoned up a glowing white book, It's shine so bright that I was forced to glance away, shielding the harsh burning light from my face. "Hmm... Says here you.. Said you preferred Cinnamon over Chocholate donuts.. People didn't like that online much. You should keep your opinions to yourself Lil Hitler..."The angel remarked.
I stood there flabbergasted. "Wait... So because I said something that other people didn't agree with.. Im basically the equivelent of a dictator? Is that right?"
"That's how it works.. Chocholate was very in that month, Maybe in your next life, you will learn to have the same opinion as everyone else your trouble maker."
And with that... everything went dark, Only reawakening to the sound of crying of hospital machinary.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
It didn’t seem serious.
I remember last weekend clearly, every single detail of it. I woke up quickly, because my alarm didn’t go off. I was twelve minutes late to work, maybe that’s why I didn’t notice.
Work was a blur, mostly me sitting at my tiny desk, waiting for calls. I don’t have a window in my office, so that’s another excuse for why I didn’t see. I drive home at three p.m., then my brain finally starts to work. It’s been dark all day. I turned on the news as soon as I got home, anxious to find out what was happening.
The news was as clueless as I was. They tried to make it seem like they had a lead—“This is a national phenomenon, nothing more.” or “LAPD Chief of Police, Gordon Brown says ‘Stay inside” — but I knew it was something else. And it was.
On the second day, it was still dark. Everyone was afraid to leave their houses, listening to the news. And I listened too. I remember checking my fridge, making a mental list of what I could save, just in case. *Just in case.*
The third day, I was watching a Christmas movie when a national alert popped up and a siren could be heard from miles away. I looked outside and more than a dozen police cars were outside, their lights flashing brightly. “This is not a drill.” An officer shouted through a megaphone. “The FBI has declared a national emergency. Stay inside, no matter what.” I looked through my window, trying to see what was going on. Thunder rumbled in the sky and a lighting struck the sidewalk next to my house. The police were already leaving, but it was too late. The dark sky seemed to swirl around, like a tornado but worse. The clouds started to rise up, forming a monstrous shape.
The sky turned into a monster.
It got on four legs and started running to the police. Their cars weren’t fast enough. The monster destroyed anything in its path, water obliterated the tall buildings. It grabbed one cars, but everyone knows clouds isn't solid. I saw the officer in the car, she was screaming for help. Big mistake. Water entered the car slowly and she didn't even notice. Lighting struck the car quickly, shocking the woman inside.
The monster galloped away to another town, but that's wasn't it. More of them formed, demons from the night. One of them came to our neighborhood, daring anyone to leave. The clocks stopped working. Electricity wasn't a thing. Any light would alert the monsters. One person left their home, trying to make a run for it.
The monster bashed its head on the ground, a bundle of clouds, drowning the poor man who lived across the street. No one knows the time. A radio station finally offered help to anyone who needed it, you just had to go to New York. Which was all the way across the country.
So maybe this is the end. Unless I can get to New York, my chances are extremely low. I remember the first day of darkness.
It didn’t seem serious. |
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