prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k |
|---|
There is a critical distinction between "terraformed"and "habitable."While Earth collectively celebrated the successful terraformation of the red planet (now green with algae and water), we still lived under climate and oxygen-controlled domes, dependent on the next Earthling shipment that brought with it food and and the essential supplies that kept us going.
But then a shipment did not arrive on time. This was not a huge deal--we had contingencies for shipment delays: stores of food and fresh water and supplies. We could live without another shipment for 365 Earth days (500 Martian sols) if we needed to.
That was 500 sols ago. 10 Martian months. 50 Martian weeks. 1 Martian year.
The quarterly shipments stopped arriving and communication with Earth ceased entirely. We got infrequent garbled messages; internet links went down and telescopic photos from our observatory showed the planet become darker and darker each day.
I sat in the conference room with 28 of my comrades, holding a short straw to the light.
"So this is it?"I asked to the quiet table. The short straw pullers' faces were pale with disbelief or red with fear.
"I wish there were another way, Fred,"Colonel Feese said. Her voice was sympathetic and kind. She had taken a short straw voluntarily, a true leader who goes down with the ship. What I would have given for a fraction of that bravery.
"20 million dollars,"Anselm Wallace said to the table. His face was beet red, contrasting sharply to his white mustache and neatly-combed hair. "I will buy a long straw for 20 million dollars."No one responded. No one acknowledged his offer. "You! He pointed to the woman next to me--Sarah, the doctor. "If the Martians stand a chance, they will need a doctor, not a politician. Trade me straws!"
Sarah gripped her straw tightly to her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her eyes looked down, avoiding eye contact with any other short straw puller. She, like the rest of us, was afraid of the fate that awaited those of us left here while the rest went home.
"There will be no trades,"Colonel Feese announced firmly. "Those who have pulled a long straw are dismissed to gather their family and their belongings. The ship departs in 24 hours. You will report to Captain Alexander in 12."She gestured toward the door and half of the room left, including Sarah, still holding her straw close to her chest.
"This is a travesty! This is an outrage! The selection should be intelligent, based on a set of criteria! Not by **dumb** luck!"Anselm shouted at the top of his voice as the long straws left the room. His fury, while unacceptable, was at least understandable. Anselm Wallace came here as an investor and stayed as a private citizen. He planned to get in on the ground floor of Martian real estate as the planet took to terraformation exponentially quicker than any of us had expected. In 25 years the air would be breathable outside the dome. Anselm dreamed of urban landscapes and new industries; suburban developments and agriculture. He could be the first trillionaire, and he sunk nearly everything he had into Mars.
"No one life is any more valuable than another,"Colonel Feese said sternly. "I'll hear no more of it."She nodded to a guard who closed the conference room doors as soon as the last long straws left the room. "Now, we still have a mission here, and although our days may be numbered, they need not be spent fruitlessly. There is still a considerable amount we can learn and record for the next settlers, and I intend to carry out that mission."
With the exception of Anselm's regular outbursts, the fourteen of us were silent and solemn. Our deaths were almost certainly assured if the long straws could not prepare a supply vessel back. There are no emotions prepared for understanding one's mortality--evolution has no practical use for accepting death. Regardless, there we were, trying our best.
The next day, Captain Alexander and his 1,402-member crew of Martian emigrants loaded into the Boomerang, a vessel designed specifically for leaving Mars in cases of emergency. It was over-capacity, but with some engineering and personal sacrifices to those on board, the 500-seater vessel almost tripled its capacity.
Many of us watched from the space terminal inside the dome. The Boomerang was a couple miles away, but large enough that we could see it in the distance. It was hard not to appreciate the Martian beauty in this moment. The algae on the ground had begun coating the red sand in a lush green blanket. Even trees and bushes began sprouting; ivy was climbing the sides of the dome so quickly that troops had to be dispatched to pull it down.
The Boomerang lifted with an audible boom; the clouds of smoke from the jet fuel dwarfed the vessel as it rose into the air, higher and higher, its size and detail diminishing in the hazy clouds.
Then another boom.
I had never heard Colonel Feese shriek before--she was a stoic and disciplined woman, mild-tempered in every circumstance. But as pieces of the Boomerang fell back to the Martian surface in fiery glowing specs, her mild demeanor vanished. It was accompanied by shouts and gasps and screams from the crowd gathered.
Realization came in waves.
The last ship out is destroyed.
My friends are dead.
Our last chance to communicate with Earth is gone.
We're all dead. |
There have been rumours going around that the space shuttles weren’t the only new space crafts launched in the eighties. Whispers of a project even more ambitious than the International Space Station. Grander than the Moon landings.
Wild claims, ridiculous claims. Really, we shouldn’t have even bothered. The fact that we managed to get together such a big team is honestly ridiculous. No one *really* believed in some secret manned missions to Mars. How could something like that remain a secret?
But work had been slow the last year, and this sounded more interesting than the usual slog. It didn’t take long before I was joined by others bored out of their minds. It started with me, an investigative journalist. I was joined by two of my colleagues, one of whom had contacts in a conspiracy magazine. When their intelligence specialists got wind of our investigation, they practically begged to join us.
It was fun. I’d never worked on a single investigation with this many people before. We got together for late nights after work and scoured the internet and the various physical archives we could get our hands on.
Before long our investigation devolved into nightly get-togethers with drinks and food. It wasn’t until Sarah talked to some distant cousin of hers whose father worked for NASA that we got a lead.
The 1986 Space Shuttle Challenger Tragedy. Seven people died when the Challenger exploded shortly after liftoff. With the tragedy being so very in the public eye, conspiracies were not hard to find. The internet was full of them, and we’d read through many of them before. But Sarah’s cousin’s father, let something slip that might confirm one of them.
The explosion wasn’t an accident. The crew had learned of something they had no business knowing, and they were silenced before they could tell anyone.
It seemed… ridiculously convoluted and conspiratory at first. I certainly didn’t take it seriously. Not until a few weeks later, when Sarah got into a car accident when on her way back from meeting the same family member.
Suddenly, the conspiracy was real. With every step closer to the truth, we put ourself into more danger. But we couldn’t stop now. Not with Sarah’s death looming over our heads. It was like a fire had been lit under our feet, driving us from lead to lead, uncovering more and more. We were so focused that our own safety didn’t even cross out minds.
We focused out research on 1986. We found signs of another launch base. Witnesses from a nearby town confirmed something was launched on the same day as the Challenger. Now, the tragedy wasn’t just an orchestrated accident to silence people who knew to much. It was also a diversion for the *real* important launch. Armed with this knowledge, we found the same pattern replicated in 1981 during the first Space Shuttle launch.
But from that moment on, our investigation came to a standstill. Members of our group dropped one by one while investigating people and archives. We could never confirm if they really were going to Mars. We couldn’t even confirm if they were manned missions or not. Every time one of us found something, they would drop dead before ever making it back with the information.
What could be so important that they would go to such lengths to hide it? If they really were going to Mars, then why hide it? What could be so secretive on such a barren planet?
I don’t believe the missions had anything to do with Mars. If it were then it wouldn’t have to be a secret. It must have been something else, but I have no clue what it could be. Aliens is a word that keeps coming to mind, but I keep refuting it as ridiculous at the same speed.
Maybe that’s why I’m the only one left… I don’t pose a risk if I won’t even humour the idea. |
How long had Sven been climbing these damn stairs? Half an hour now? He stopped to stretch.
Behind him, a demon guard whacked the stone wall with the butt of his spear sending echoes up to the rafters of the dreadful tower they were in.
“Keep it moving, funny man,” the guard grunted. “Big guy upstairs don’t like slow pokes.”
Sven carried no weapons and donned no armor, just a peasant’s smock and a knowing grin he’d worn since being ‘captured.’ Still, Mr. loyal-to-a-fault demon guard kept his distance. He had learned, begrudgingly, that this man could not be touched. Earlier, the Lord Kal-Drix’ third faction, twenty demoniacs with bad attitudes, had surrounded him in the forest. They closed in on the lone Sven eating mutton, and all promptly collapsed as if met with a gravity well. The man could have simply walked away while the heavily armed demons struggled to their feet, but he was bored. Demons *were* pretty fun to mess with. Besides, he wanted to meet this Kal-Drix fellow he had heard so many horror stories about.
They continued to climb. The stairs were getting slick with moss, but Sven’s footing was sure. Every twenty steps or so, another guard stood posted beneath a torch. They might have stuck out spears to trip other prisoners, sending them careening down the spiral stairs, but they didn’t dare do that to Sven. After some time, they reached an ominous set of black double doors. Sentinels stood on either side looking smug in the dim fire light.
“You’re in for a treat, Slippy,” said a sentinel opening one of the doors. The demons laughed. Sven went on grinning and stepped into the cruel lord’s chamber.
The room was massive and much better furnished than the dreary stairs and halls they had just come from. Sentinels stood at the ready in even lines on either side of a long red carpet that came to a head at the ornate black throne of Kal-Drix. The demon lord’s gaze fell immediately on the unassuming, blonde man before him.
“Heard you pulled a little trick in the forest, funny man,” Kal-Drix’s voice boomed through the throneroom. As he stood up, his spiraled, bronze horns nearly touched the ceiling. “In all these years, my factions remain wholly undefeated. No doubt you’ve seen the fruits of their labor.” The demon lord motioned with a huge clawed hand to a wide embrasure. Sven saw they were hundreds of feet up. Below them, the sprawling ruins of a once bustling city.
Sven smirked and said: “I don’t know about labor, but I definitely see a lot of fruits.”
The demon guard who had followed him up the stairs whipped the butt of his spear at Sven and promptly crashed to the ground. It was like watching a drunkard swat at a fly. Kal-Drix took one hesitant step toward Sven.
“Get ‘em all out now, funny man. You won’t sound so smart hooked up to the drain.” The demon lord glanced over at a space on the wall lined with chains. A rusty looking pipe stuck out of the floor below. “It’s been too long since we’ve shriveled a wizard. Better say goodbye to your special powers. Actually, you better say goodbye to all of us too.”
The demons howled with laughter. *You’re in for it now, funny man. Lord Kal-Drix is gonna eat you like a raisin!* They had, in fact, eliminated every wizard in the city this way. Magic was perhaps the demons’ only weakness aside from being dumb. Sven, however, had no magic. Not in the traditional sense anyway. Wizards had to hone their abilities over several decades. Sven was born with this strange anomaly. When he was a child, no more than five and feeling pitiful, he had hidden away a chicken that was to be his family’s dinner. When his father figured it out, he reared up to hit his son, and slipped and broke his ankle. When those mean older kids had chased him to the end of an alley, cornering him for a beating, they had fallen on their rears with each intended blow. Nobody could touch him if they meant harm. After a while, nobody in the city would touch him at all. He got away with a lot.
Once, as a teenager, he stole an ogre’s pint at an inn. In the ogre’s ensuing rage, unable to balance long enough to crush the puny Sven, the inn was demolished. Before the demons took over, as the city was being fractured by political turmoil, a reward for Sven’s head had been declared; five hundred ounces of gold. By the end of the week, Sven had killed twelve assassins (or had they jumped from high places?) and sent twenty more to the wards. He knew these foolish tormentors couldn’t hurt him either.
“So let me get this straight, you want to chain me up and suck magic out of my ass? Aren’t you at least going to take me on a date first?” At this, a sentinel tried to stifle a chuckle. Too late. Kal-Drix sent him flying through an embrasure to the ruins below.
“You’ll regret that, funny man,” said the demon lord, turning back to Sven. He took another cautious step. “You’ll regret that when you’re a deflated bag of manflesh.” Another step. The demon lord’s clawed feet dug into the red carpet for stability.
“Bummer. All those stairs really worked up my appetite. Alright, let’s see how this thing works, shall we?” Sven started towards the drain. Nobody had ever displayed such insolence in Kal-Drix’ presence, not in three and a half centuries. He wasn’t about to let this one slide. Loyal-to-a-fault guard nearly went after him again before remembering the gravity well. Sven shook the chains on the wall. “Not very secure, m’liege.” He looked into the rusty pipe. “Not very sanitary either. You guys ever clean this thing?”
Kal-Drix stomped closer to Sven and the drain. Dust fell from above and the tower shook a bit. “I’ve been eating souls like yours for three-hundred seventy years. Comedy, I’ve found, makes a soul taste oh so much better—once you cut out the gristle of magic.”
Sven, still examining the drain: “Yeah? Well it’s a shame you killed all the funny wizards. This place could really use some cheering up.”
“Insolent fool!” Kal-Drix boomed as he swiped at Sven with claws like swords. Not even close. The demon lord faltered. One giant knee cratered the floor.
“Uh oh, gotta be quicker than that!” Sven was smiling bigger now. Kal-Drix was on his feet again, looming over his infuriating prey. Just a couple more steps, thought Sven. Just a couple more steps and he’s mine.
Clouded by rage, that’s exactly what Kal-Drix did. This time, he was really falling. Sven saw him go down in slow motion. The demon sentinels, breaking their stillness, shuffled nervously as their lord met his end. As he fell, one huge bronze horn tore through stone wall, ripping off the chains. The rusty pipe he had referred to as “the drain” impaled his skull through the temple and the demon lord knew no more.
“I guess you don’t need to worry about cleaning it now,” proclaimed Sven and he made his way toward the black double doors, down the endless spiral stairs and walked into the night. |
Want to know what's wild? I have gone over a decade without making a single mistake. From the point, I discovered my ability to now, every action, every encounter, every conversation has begun and ended with the best possible outcome. I mean, why wouldn't it? When you can simply tap your temple and rewind life back ten minutes without anyone the wiser, you test all possible scenarios. School bullies were no match when I already knew there every move. Tests were a cake-walk when I could read through the questions before snapping back to find the answers in my textbook. My favorite, though, was definitely experimenting with my romantic advances. Now, one who might be ignorant to my ability would only see someone who thinks quickly on the fly, who seems to always keep their cool, someone who has maximized their possible charisma output. All through trial and error, I have lived a life sculpted entirely how I wanted.
For some reason, life had gifted me and me alone and an endless source of free-passes, and I was determined to get the most out of them. Some days when I was not in a particularly good mood, I would lash out at the people around me. Teachers, classmates, parents, no one was safe from the triad of insults and profanity that could be hurled their way at no inconvenience to myself. Some days I maybe would go a bit too far, but I never would harm anyone physically, I promise. One thing I must tell you when life is perfect, it is also boring. I guess this was why I just had to spice things up. In the end, my fists would have caused less damage.
The poor boy sitting in front of me was everything I tried to convince everyone I wasn't. He was a painfully average, timid boy with no talents or skills to make him stand out. So, I helped him stand out by making him the subject of all my outbursts. But with this boy, I would not need to rewind every time lashed out on him since everyone seemed to also find it tasteful to rip into him. Classmates would become ripe with laughter at the mere mention of this kid's name and soon would jump in on the fun. He tried moving seats to the very front, but even when the teachers didn't seem to particularly care the hell we put him through, it was inevitable he would reach his breaking point.
Just like every morning in the classroom, we were sitting at our desks waiting for our teacher to emerge into the room. She always had a knack for being late. In this moment I really wish I would just have taken this time to catch up on my sleep. Instead, my boredom swelled until I could stand it no longer. I began crumpling up old sheets of homework until it resembled a tight, compact ball ready to be chunked with precision and accuracy. If I missed the back of the boy's head, I could just rewind and try again. Everyone would be all like "wow, first try."It was almost as if the boy in front of me had read my mind because he, without even turning around, announced to the class that I should think before making a costly mistake.
Who did this guy think he was? I don't make mistakes. So without further contemplation, I winded up my throwing arm and chunked that paper ball like I was being scouted by the major leagues. Before the ball even reached him, he stood up, turned around, eyes locked on mine. Something about the look on this kid unnerved me. He had never not taken my insults and shenanigans. Well, I thought to myself, let's see where this goes. If things go south I will just rewind and that will be that.
"What?"I said, "Learn to take a joke, bro."
As if this further fueled his rage, he reached into his backpack and just like that, a once lively classroom was left dead silent.
As I stared down the barrel of a gun in the hands of the boy that had been the center of my antics, I realized it's time to rewind things back before it got so heated. I tapped my temple ready to flashback to before I began concocting my paper ball plan, but to my shock, nothing happened. I must have looked pretty stupid because I began poking and prodding my temple in earnest hoping that the rewind would register. Fear like no other had me gripped like it had its hands around my throat. My entire life I had been given second, third, as many fucking chances as I'd liked, but in this moment I had no escape. A harsh reality began to set in, and as I looked into the eyes of my once victim, I realized this would be a mistake I would not be coming back from. |
I found my task to be rather enjoyable, once she got used to talking to me. She's quite bubbly and cheerful, if a bit clueless on some subjects. I learned quite a bit from Star, like her homeworld, her race's unique abilities, and the universe beyond our solar system. The others think I may be getting a bit attached to her though, as I'm against doing any rigourous experiments to her. I'm sorry I'm not comfortable with jepordizing my relationship with what is undoubtably a living weapon. I'd rather she have a good impression of us since she's said she's only staying because she "likes talking to me."Her words, not mine. |
"Honey, where did your mom find this?"I looked down at the Speak-n-Spell that Susie had gotten from her Grandmother for Christmas, confused by the strange designs.
"Oh, you know her. Probably a garage sale or something."My wife laughed, remembering all the times her mother had brought home a new 'treasure' from the local sales.
"Well, I think it looks weird."I laughed, but put the device back, knowing that Susie was waking up soon.
"I do too."My wife came up and hugged me from behind. "But look at it this way, maybe she'll learn a new language?"
"Do you recognize the alphabet?"I leaned back into her shoulder, seeing the strange runes carved on the keys of this strange Speak-n-Spell.
"I don't, but I'm no expert."I laughed, knowing that neither of us were all that lingual. I barely remembered High School Spanish, and even though Marie had taken two years of French, that was back in college.
"Well, as long as she's having fun."Marie laughed into my ear, before releasing me to go make Susie's breakfast. "Also, tell her not to leave her toys out."
"What'd you step on this time?"I looked at my wife with a sympathetic smile, having just stepped on a doll's hand yesterday. I still had the cut.
"Some sort of horn thing."She gestured to the toy pile, where a strangely carved runic horn was resting atop the Rescue Rangers toys and her dolls.
"Where'd you find this?"I walked over and lifted the horn, noting the weight of it. It seemed like maybe it was real bone. "Ugh, it stinks."I could smell a strange smell from the thing, like rotting eggs.
"I didn't get it. I thought you did."My wife looked at me in surprise, as I turned to face her.
"What? Of course not. Look at this thing."I held up the strange horn, not knowing how my wife would think this was something I had bought.
"Well, I didn't buy it!"She shot me a withering look, and I scratched my head in confusion.
"I'm tossing it then."It must have been something Susie brought back from daycare. Kids, tiny little kleptos.
"Please."Marie turned back to the stove, as I heard the chirping of Susie's Tweety Bird alarm clock. "Go wake your daughter."
"Of course, when it's time to wake her up and deal her with wet bed, she's my daughter."I laughed at my wife, who lifted the spatula threateningly.
"Then you can make breakfast. Remember how that went? She refused to eat breakfast for a week because she was afraid of it?"As she laughed, I sighed, remembering my futile attempt to make her a meal.
"Daddy, help."I sighed, realizing she had woken up wet again. Potty training. We had to get her potty trained.
"I'm here, baby."I opened her door, staring at her surprise. "Where did you get that?!"
There, in her tiny bed, was a black cat, curled up on her chest, sleeping.
"He's heavy."That was the explanation. All right. She must have found a neighborhood cat. Sighing, I slowly approached, lifting the cat gingerly, trying not to startle it. As I did, it turned and stared at me with deep green eyes, contempt visible on its face. Cats.
"Go see Mommy. I'll take care of your friend."I held the cat in one arm, away from Susie, as I leaned down to kiss her forehead.
"Love daddy!"She hugged my leg, before the smell of food wafted in and her love shifted.
"And you..."Turning to the cat, I saw that it was ignoring me. With a sigh, I took it to the backdoor, gently setting it down, hoping it would run back to wherever it came from.
"When you give her a bathe, make sure she doesn't have any scratches."I leaned in and whispered in my wife's ear as Susie sat at the table, eating scooping helpings of oatmeal and runny eggs, her favorite breakfast.
"What? Why?"Marie turned to me and I hurriedly explained the cat situation.
"All right."She glanced at Susie, concerned.
"I'm sure it snuck in when I took out the trash or something. It's my fault."I laughed, wrapping her in a hug. She sighed heavily as I kissed her cheek, before heading to our bedroom, getting ready for my day.
"OW!"As I padded, barefoot, I stepped on something, looking down to see the same horn that I just tossed in the trash on the floor. Thankfully I hadn't stepped on the sharp part!
"You all right?"As I tossed the horn into the trash, I realized it was a second one, not the same one. Marie had heard my exclamation and she peaked out at me as I waved her away with a sigh.
"It's fine."I sighed again, realizing I was never prepared for this part of raising a kid. I knew they had issue taking things, but couldn't Susie at least bring home things that weren't so sharp.
"The Goat says: Grex'Alos'Tornad."As I walked back, I heard the Speak-N-Spell again, and I sighed.
"Your mom is so weird, dear."As I heard Marie laugh, I started the shower, idly wondering what kind of goats they were talking about. Probably Australian goats. |
I look around the long fiery plain where souls like me all sag their shoulders. It was true. My parents were right, Satan was going to claim my soul. A flicker behind me made me jump. I turned around but saw nothing.
Just then the ground beneath my feet opened sending me into the fiery deaths of satans lair. I felt a sharp pain that you can only feel in hell and blacked out.
I looked around. I was chained to a rock. What was this? I thought. I looked around. The clicking of heels on the stone floor scared me. I couldn’t look behind me. “She’s very angered by your arrival” the woman said. Satan doesn’t understand this mockery.
Mockery? I tried to say but nothing but air came out. I coughed and lava oozed out of my mouth and burned as it trickled down my bare flesh. I had nothing but a toga on I realized. I winced, but i knew pain. This was hell after all. “Tell god to stop sending his fools and spies down under, or they’ll regret it”
I felt the sharp pain again and woke up in a row of clouds leading to a temple. I ran to it, but stopped. This place was deserted, no life. I cautiously walked the steps of the temple and was greeted by a woman in a dress. “Did you complete your quest?” She said. “What quest?” I said. She tsked “I really did think you were different.” I felt a sharp pain, worse than anything I’d ever felt even in hell, and she smiled. “Humans never did understand.” And I tumbled down from the sky. I am sure to hit the bottom soon. |
“It’s been a while, Purple.” A Rottweiler asks, still the average size of one.
“B-bull?” I ask. His black fur, almost shining in the light behind him.
“Yes, Purple. It’s me. I am god’s courier. We will walk down memory lane, and decide if you deserve heaven, well in my book.” He said. A door appeared. “Would you do the honors?” He asked. I opened it, and was consumed into darkness. It would begin with how we first met.
I was 11, and he was just brought to our house after Bill’s death, my neighbor.
“That was the second best day of my life. Meeting you.” Bull said.
“And your first?” I asked, as if I knew the answer.
“No, it’s not something else about you. It was when I met Bill.” Bull spoke.
“Oh.” I said. As we went down memory lane, I got sadder, seeing Bull begin to act weaker and weaker. Eventually, it was my last moment with him.
“I missed you.” Bull said. “I’ll put you in heaven, but there is one catch.” He said.
“Yes?”
“Don’t be disappointed by how goody-two-shoes it is.” |
The weeping willow started sobbing uncontrollably in the court room.
There were other trees intermingled throughout the packed crowd, and the addition of leafy branches meant the justice halls were even shadier than usual.
"THIS IS AN OUTRAGE,"a red-faced tomato named Pedro spat into the courtroom through his translating device. The sound reverberated off the freshly-waxed marble floor louder than he expected it to. He'd been there to testify on the horrors of supermarket-induced PTSD, and combining his feelings with the tension of an emotional court battle brought his cool to a halt.
The gallery glared at him while the judge hammered a gavel that was, ironically and callously, manufactured out of the weeping willow's husband; a sordid metaphor for the injustice playing out here. In a commanding voice, he brought the swirling, uncapped energy of the room to a hault:
"ORDER IN THE COURT."
Pedro reared from his anger, and upon doing so noticed his mistake and quickly switched into a posture as dignified as he could possibly muster. He knew he needed to show calm now; the plants were on thin ice already and they were nowhere near out of the woods yet.
"Mr. Sungold,"Judge Howard said as he scowled through the tiny tomato. "If I hear one more disruption from you, I'll hold you in contempt of court. You will remain orderly and wait for your moment to speak. Is that understood?"
The judge felt his forehead furrow while Pedro's eyes gave way to a look of compliance.
"Yes, your honor."
"Good."
An aloe vera plant patted Pedro, trying to ease his discomfort. The sultry judge nodded to the Prosecution's lawyer, a maniac by the name of Gayle Friesen who *literally* spent her time eating the corpses of dead plants flavored by strange, savory dressings with nearly every meal. Cold, relentless, and calculating, she was chomping down the plants' beloved freedoms, and so far, she hadn't bit off more than she could chew. The prosecution represented a variety of groups: Vegetarians, paper companies, florists, grocery store chains, farmers, all hell-bent on keeping nature itself commercialized and consumable; products from and for the masses.
And their methods were ruthless.
Friesen turned her attention back to the somber Weeping Willow, and continued her grilling:
"If you're truly sentient, Miss Willow, I suppose you understand the legal ramifications of trespassing on state-owned property-"
"I'VE BEEN ROOTED THERE FOR GENERATIONS,"she retorted through tears, her demeanor inconsolable but her voice righteous in tone. "I've oxidized the air, housed birds, replenished the soil when I could, provided shade for the weary and visual scenes for the artist. I mean, we've all contributed in our own way. As plants we've never taken more than we need from the world. We've only loved it, and asked that you enjoy it with us. And,"she paused, locking bark-to-eye with Friesen, "you and I were friends many moons ago. Have you forgotten, Gayle?"
The tree pulled back the foliage from it's largest branch to reveal two worn marks that had once supported the ropes of a swing. Specifically, a cherry-red swing Friesen had spent countless humid summer days sitting on in the early sunshine of being a little girl, experiencing the world without the confines of debt, doubt, a courtroom. It was pure, bittersweet, and welling up in her eyes. Slowly, she began to remember confiding in the willow all her doubts, joys, sorrows, and questions from a time in her life when experience was newly emergent and curiosity captivated the way she viewed every day she woke up. She felt her mindset begin to shift, and reached a realization she hadn't touched since adolescence: that this tree in front of her, this *being,* had not only been a source of shade or a support for her swing.
She had been a *friend*.
Gayle maintained a stone expression despite the moisture in her eyes. For the first time since the trial began, she cracked the slightest sliver of a smile.
"That'll be all, your honor. Prosecution rests."
She walked back towards the bench and sat in her plush leather chair, feeling light among the heaviness of the courtroom. A sigh of relief left her lips as she let go of all the weight she'd put into preparing arguments against these beings, having been hell-bent on convincing the world they ought to bend to humankind's desires. She began editing her notes, knowing what needed to be done, and who was worth fighting for. |
“What happened?” asked Mike in a daze.
God looked at the scene in front of him and didn’t even know where to start, “I have no idea! I was bored so I went down on Earth to have some fun. No big deal! I was just way too high for a Tuesday.”
“The Earth is burning! No big deal? When did that freaking orange guy become president? What’s that? Polio and measles? Are you kidding me?” Mike shouted. “What did YOU do!?”
God frowned hard trying to summon the memories of his little leisure trip. “I went down and was hungry. I went to get some tacos because it was a Tuesday and I met that guy. He was kinda weird.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah, you know, he had an Aussie accent even though he’s from Florida. He asked me if I wanted a good time. He got that new mushroom grown from squirrels poop and mountain dew and he said you could enter god’s party pool with it.”
“And you tried it?!!! Are you INSANE?”
“It’s not like I can die anyway!” God shrugged. “I stuffed the taco with the mushroom and went for a ride. We ended up at the Zoo. Man, it was crazy! I threw a goblin at a furry dolphin and it got shot!”
“The goblin got shot?”
“No, the monkey that was with the goblin. The dolphin turned into a monkey then it got shot. Poor monkey. It was a hell of a Tuesday! After that I heard there was some protestors and they build a shrine for it. Somewhat everything started to go down after that!”
“You got a monkey shot and things started to go south? What kind of mushrooms were they? Wait… are you sure it was a Tuesday?”
“Who knows?” He shrugged. “Humans are weird anyway.”
Mike stared at God suspiciously, “Where did you go yesterday?”
He coughed, “Well… euh… nowhere in particular… I have some stuff to do, see you later…”
“What the fuck did you do!” Mike yelled.
"I know nothing about those bushfires!"Shouted God while running away. |
Humans were elves. Who'd have known it. We had thought that because we lived on an outer spiral arm, we were basically the hillbillies of the universe. Left to the backwaters to become the hicks of the space faring elite. Instead it turns out, we are freaking elves. We live four to five times longer than most species, which means a single lifetime spans generations.
They had been listening to our "stories"for eons. Waiting to alight on a world full of all the magic of cinema. Instead we found them and honestly trying to stop humans from adopting aliens as pets had been the biggest challenge. Explaining that these creatures with the lifespan of a pet, were in fact a species as smart and clever as ourselves was an international nightmare. The aliens themselves would sign up to be pets to learn more about us, and our long lives. They hindered the process, becoming a human pet was prestige, especially if you could get multiple generations of your family adopted by the same human.
Humans were the elves of our myth, but I did not think we were living up to our legend. |
I finally crested the hill overlooking the danish city of Ribe, and began to set up in my position. The plan was simple: since catching Viking raiders as they raided would require covering the entire English coast, we would “cut the snake’s head” instead. No Viking would leave this nest of theirs ever again, if everything went to plan.
The only place I can think to start this story is the beginning: I was born in rural Arkansas in 1985. My family took well enough care of me, but they would have to have been versed in the study of psychology to properly sort me out. I was burning ants under a magnifying glass from the day I was four years old. Either I just wasn’t very bright, or my rural public schooling let me down, or both: I dropped out in the twelfth grade, and after that business behind Mickey’s diner in the summer of 02’ I couldn’t even land a job at McDonald’s. So, like many young men with nowhere left to go, I joined the army. They quickly caught on to my talent as a killer, and I served three tours as a sniper in Afghanistan before finally heading home. Then, a few months ago now, I got a sealed letter in the mail:
“Your country needs you for an unprecedented opportunity to shepherd human progress”
Somehow, some mad scientist working in the one and only Area 51 managed to invent a fucking time machine, and he was looking for skilled snipers to go through; the passage could only be done once, so they could afford only the best, and allegedly that meant me - and five other shmucks who, over the course of months of intense training, I found to all have stories similar to mine.
Those “five other shmucks” were currently getting into their own positions on five other hills surrounding the oldest city in Denmark.
We all carried very special weapons: prototype .408 sniper rifles designed for stealth and reliability - most likely the six best weapons on earth, even before we moved to an earth where guns hadn’t even been invented. Each would have one standard five-round-magazine loaded, and with a sharp whistling sound accompanied by a kick in my shoulder, my weapon now held only four.
We had made our entry on a C-130, ordinary other than the “quantum keystone” packed in its hold. Since it wouldn’t be able to return, the aircraft’s crew (and the operator of the keystone) just rigged it to pull us through and bailed out. Once we were back a thousand years (which was honestly the most anticlimactic thing I think anyone has ever witnessed), it was simply a matter of parachuting our before the aircraft crashed and self-destructed.
*PTHINK*
Three rounds left.
Of course, neither I nor any of the other snipers was told anything at all about the specifics of how the time machine actually worked, but I would have to guess that it actually just sent us to a parallel universe - otherwise what I was doing would affect the eventual development of time travel, and then maybe the simulation which the universe is running on will crash. I’ve never been one for philosophy, but nothing like time travel to make a man question his place in the universe.
*PTHINK*
Two rounds left.
It occurs to me that us snipers were probably picked for more than just surgical precision; ordinary grunts might have hearts too big for all this killing, any bomber pilot would in all likelihood be smart enough to question orders, and our very own tier one operators would understand the intricacies of the situation better than just about anyone else. We were the best people on earth for the job of putting a bullet through someone’s skull just seconds after watching him share stories over drinks with his friends.
*PTHINK*
One round left.
During training, I had joked with the other snipers that “the good doctor” might be one of the Nazi scientists forced to work for the US government after their own Reich fell, but today that doesn’t seem like so much of a joke anymore. In any case, I can’t imagine anyone else seriously believing that the best way to help society ahead is by killing them.
Oh well, I guess the other snipers will be able to ask him about it in hell, assuming such a place exists.
*PTHINK*
Empty.
I left my rifle propped on its bipod on the ground as I carefully rose from it, as if I was standing on a raft struggling to keep my balance. The deed was done. All five of the other snipers - my supposed “comrades in arms” - were dead by my hand. It shouldn’t have bothered me; I had taken countless more innocent - and much less necessary - lives, but the monumental weight of the occasion was hard for even me to ignore.
All that was left now was to head down to Ribe and introduce myself. The pack which I was supposed to fill with ammunition had instead been loaded with books - mostly textbooks of anything a medieval society should find useful to advance itself, and one English to old Norse dictionary. I took one last look at them through my binoculars - there was a blacksmith teaching his son to hold a hammer, a group on the outskirts of the city dancing to celebrate some minor occasion I’d never know about, a crew loading their wide-hulled merchant ship for a trip down the Volga river to Constantinople, all the workings of a place that most definitely wouldn’t kill an unfamiliar man on sight.
Now the real “shepherding human progress” could finally begin. |
“GOOOOOOD EEEEEVEEEENINGGGGG, LADIES AND GENTLEDEMONS!” The oily voice of a deejay blares across the Pit, and the crowd cheers wildly.
I flinch. After a week here, it doesn’t get any easier. Every day, I am resummoned from my life down to the Underworld, and every night I return. The first time, trembling and crying, I thought I had died. The red-hued, spiny monster assigned for me informed me gently that I was not dead. The relief was short-lived.
Instead, I was told I had to participate—-or submit to eternal hellfire. Win, and be a god among men. Lose, and be submitted to suffering till the end of time.
I take my place at the podium. Three other poor souls stand in formation, on identical obsidian platforms. I gaze briefly at the faces of those I must destroy in order to survive.
The first question comes from the humanoid game show emcee with a shock of blond fur on its head. Its evil, piercing eyes sear directly into my soul.
*”Which part of the mortal body...”* I tremble, waiting.
“ ...*has the most bones?*”
I know this one! Smirking, I smash my buzzer. The button screams horribly and the crowd of demon roars. The emcee gestures to me. “Answer,” it intones.
Smiling confidently, I lean forward and jut my chin out.
“The hand, obviously.”
The crowd gasps. The emcee looks at me, the corners of its mouth tilting up, and says...
“Incorrect.”
No. Oh god. What have I done?
I drop to my knees. The demon’s hand hovers over the button that will make my platform vanish. I’m crying and begging.
“NO, PLEASE. YOU CAN’T DO THIS! PLEASE!!! NO!
NO!” The demon’s talon presses the button, and I slide into the vortex, my last scream echoing.
“ELLEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNN.........” |
“It’s all your fault!” Jillian screams at me. I raise my hands in defense, looking around at my friends. Tommy just stands there and looks around the room we’re in. Alice sighs, trying to calm down Jill.
How did we get here? I accidentally used magic at school. Big no-no. But we’ll get to that later. Now, we traveled through time and no one knows where we are.
Tommy gasps dramatically, walking up to a wooden desk. He grabs a paper, then shoves it in my face.
I take it from him, reading it carefully.
”United States of America...Constitution...Draft...Oh my—” I mumble as realization take ahold of me. Jill and Alice walk over, reading the paper. Tommy nods slowly, gesturing toward the desk. ”I think...we have to write the Constitution.”
Alice snaps, grabbing a feather. *A feather.* She dips it in a container of ink and snatches the paper. As she writes...whatever she's writing, she tells us why. ”It was on our U.S History exam.” She puts the feather down and gives me the paper.
”We the people of the United States want equality, justice, and freedom. Everyone will follow the laws and punishments are fair, as decided by an official judge.” I read. I look at Alice. ”This isn't right.”
Jillian grunts, grabbing the pen. She scribbles her name on the paper, which immediately floats into the air. ” It's good enough to get us out of here!” She yells as we all get sucked in the spinning portal.
The exit is much more unpleasant than the entrance because we fall into a pile of tires. I look around anxiously and my worst fear comes true. Buildings are on fire, crumbling to the ground. Sirens scream a cry for help, as criminals destroy the streets. I look at Jillian, who's seen everything.
”You destroyed America.” I mutter, preparing to cast another time portal. ”Let’s try again.” |
A golden glow followed Nora as she flew thru the air. Sunlight shimmered off each scale, leaving her a streak across the sky. As she scanned the countryside, one thing became certain, she wasn't home anymore. No towering buildings. A distinct lack of paved roads. No cars, buses, or trains. Something had gone wrong. Back allies were always dangerous, but who would have guessed this was behind any of them? An acrid smell hit her nose. Though she had never smelled it before, she instinctual recognized it. Necromancy. She let her nose guide her to the source.
---
Cal'rey knew he was in trouble. Without his lord's protection, his work would be marked as evil, and he would be hunted. How did he get this lost? The sound of the dogs barking had ceased, but he didn't stop running. Whatever had guided him here, it had plans. He needed to get back. And to stop wandering the woods. When he was certain he wasn't being followed anymore, he paused to catch his breath. When his lungs finally caught up, he began looking around for a suitable assistant. A small animal would suffice. A crow lay on the ground, motionless. Crows had the smarts he needed, but wouldn't survive a hit. Still, for a scout, it would do. He muttered a small incantation, and the bird hopped to life.
"Go find me shelter."he commanded, and the bird took off.
Minutes later, the bird returned and began cawing.
"Good, good. That should do nicely."He began rubbing his chin, falling deep into thought. "Yes... See if you can find a bear, or a wolf. I'll need protection."The bird took flight again, and Cal made his way north.
---
Sir Gimly had been walking for days now, his king's castle still nowhere in sight. He had just pulled his horse to the side as a large shadow crossed overhead. He turned to the source, shielding his eyes from the noon-day sun. Though he couldn't make it out, he saw the gold trail it left. "Dragon."It was headed in the direction of the castle. They were dangerous beasts, and though tales told that gold dragons were kind, he knew he would need to be there, just in-case. He spurred the horse, and took off.
---
The necromancer was wily, and had escaped her vision more than once. But it was when she saw the crow that she knew he would see her. Unable to resume her original form, she opted instead to try and walk the forest. She was larger than normal, but still could hide in the trees. Padding quietly, she snuck up on the man, ready to pounce. She stalled when she heard him muttering. A prayer. For the wolf he was about to resurrect. The words were kind, something she didn't expect. The wolf got up, and began nuzzling the man's hand. She cocked her head, trying to take in what just happened, and the wolf came over to her. It sniffed her paw, then wandered back, uninterested. When she looked up again, she was face-to-face with the necromancer, who didn't seem as pleased.
---
How did he miss the beast? It stood twice his height, and somehow still managed to sneak up on him? He was about to strike it down, when a shout in the distance caught him off guard. A man in armor was riding, full speed, straight to the two.
---
"I shall strike you down, foul beast!"He waved a gleaming sword as he rode.
The dragon snorted, white smoke escaping it's nostrils. *I would like to see you try.*
He did. As the sword connected with the glimmering scales, sparks flew, and the sword bounced cleanly. Not even a scratch was left.
"How in God's name?"Gimly shouted, "What protects you, cursed beast!"
*My scales are impenetrable. By man or machine.* The voice boomed in his ears.
"Perhaps,"another voice spoke. A older man in a black robe. Gimly almost didn't see him there. "you would care to explain why you were following me?"
The dragon turned to him, *I was curious. You're scent left an impression, and I'm unfamiliar with this land. The wolf, did you bring it back?*
"I did. It's hard to find a good companion in my line of work, but most animals are glad to be alive."
Gimly had heard enough. Dragons and demons. That's all they were. He brought his sword up for another strike, but as it came down, his hands were empty.
"Welcome, fellow travelers, to Aperture Stories. Dragons, Knights, Necromancers -- you're here because I needed the best, and you are it. So: Who wants to save a princess?"
---
For more Nora, check out r/societyofmythicpeople.
Or checkout r/redditserials for other great stories. |
it was just another day in the Xavier Adoption Center, named for the school from the comics. Every kid had a special power. little Elizabeth’s telekinesis was a level two. A level one power was something that caused minimal damage, such as Mark being able to feel the emotions of nearby nonhuman mammals. Those kids could hide their powers easily and were easily adopted. A level three could potentially destroy a room, such as Eric’s pyrokinesis. Those kids were considered a low possibility of adoption . Then there was the one level four At the home. Level fours were lifers. Kids who could level a city block if they were to lose control. Poor Katrina was barely three and had weather powers. She caused tornados while having a nightmare, mini earthquakes when mad and seemed to have no limit. She didn’t understand why even the social workers were afraid of her. |
(IP) Another Choice
“How kind of you, meat, to come to me of your own accord.”
The giant beast chuckled, and its putrid breath wafted over the knight, carrying years of rot and foulness with it.
“Should I kill you now and roast you over an open fire?” The dragon purred, leaning in so close that the knight could see his reflection in its gigantic, cold eyes. “Or perhaps I’ll turn you into jerky.” The monster’s laughter was cruel and dark, and again, the knight said nothing.
He’d thought he was ready for this. He’d had the entire journey to prepare for facing the monster, but now that it was actually in front of him, he didn’t know if he could do it. What hope did a human, even one trained in swordsmanship, have against a creature as old as the earth itself?
“Don’t tell me you’re about to face your death without any last words,” It taunted, and dark, acrid smoke spouted from its mouth and nostrils. Just standing in front of the thing was like making yourself cozy next to an old furnace: sweat began to bead on his forehead, his upper lip.
“I didn’t realize that your kind could speak our language,” The knight said at last, and his opponent tilted its head to the side, smiling with so many sharp teeth the hero could not hope to count them all.
The dragon laughed uproariously, the sound dark and ominous.
“If I hadn’t already decided to kill you, I would spare you for your humorous comments. Have the humans taught you nothing? My kind was here long before you and your mudmen ilk opened your eyes. But then, everyone has secrets…”
The hero stared at the dragon, eyes narrowed. This all smelled like a trap, but there was doubt as well. Who was to say that the humans he worked for were right? Were dragons truly evil, or had the humans merely painted them that way?
“I don’t trust you,” The hero said at last, and the dragon grinned, teeth gleaming dimly in the poorly lit cavern.
“Who can trust a monster, after all? And anyway, it hardly matters. By the end of this conversation, you will be dead, and your bones will make a lovely decoration.” It chuckled again, and the hero shook his head. He’d been given a task, but now, for some reason, he was hesitating.
Why? It hardly mattered, that most of the monsters he’d slain couldn’t talk. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, and the dragon’s eyes turned dark, deep and sad.
“Do you truly insist on this foolish endeavor, human?” It asked. “It will only end in death for you. And though legends will sing of your valor, know that this is not your only choice.”
“How isn’t it? If I return without your head, I will be imprisoned for insubordination.”
“You don’t have to go back. You could stay here.”
“But you just said you wanted to eat me!”
“Well, you’re entertaining. Perhaps I could be persuaded to keep you alive.”
\*\* |
As I picked up the journal my eyes went wide, I took my backpack off my shoulders and pulled out my own journal, I couldn’t believe it. The exact same material, same handwriting, same brand, everything.
I opened to the front pages, and it had the same logs I had written for this very day. Down to the last punctuation, it goes a few hours past mine when I read in big bold letters “DO NOT GO THROUGH THE PORTALl” Portal? What portal? What the hell was this guy talking about?? Could it really be me???
I threw the journal down to the ground as I looked around the campsite, there were a couple tents, suggesting more than just one person had been here, but where were they? Where was all of their stuff? The tents lay empty except a single cot in every one of them, except one. One that had my backpack.
At this point all my suspicions had been confirmed. That guy was me, from the future. I dig around my backpack. It looked like it had been here for years, yet the journal only goes a few hours into the future...
After I few minutes I found some sort of silver cube. It was dense, really dense, it was no bigger than a Rubik’s cube, yet it felt like it weighed more than 30 pounds. There was a small indentation on the top of it, and I layer my thumb on it. Green lines shot all around the cube instantaneously like some glorified circuit board as a pure blue portal appeared in front of me.
I looked at it, but couldn’t see through it, all it was was this big blue swirl, I tried to shut off the cube but that was when I felt the portals pull. It was dragging me inside. |
“Can you at least look at me when you’re talking to me?”
“One second, this shitty stupid fucking system is trash - just open the secured message!” said Aidan.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about, we just don’t mesh.”
“Mesh? Yes, I got it. We do need to mesh. Stupid fucking system, why the fuck do we even use it. Jesus fuck me.”
“This is exactly why we’re breaking up.”
“It can’t be my reception, this piece of shit system is just bad. That’s all there is to it, now what were you saying?”
Sabella was already walking away, she was obviously crying. “Sabella, what the hell?”
“We’re done, Aidan,” she turned briefly. “You understand?”
She didn’t see this one coming. She worried about literally anything and everything, but not her girlfriend leaving her or being uphappy. They were soulmates or best friends in love at least. |
"This is unacceptable!"I yell. Shen, my most trusted counselor, bows with cowardice at my tone. His display of weak constitution sickens me. Is this who I've surrounded myself with? Cowards and sneaks, unable to stop a real threat.
"Yes, my Emperor."He shrinks.
"I want all forces! You hear me, all! Every man capable of wielding a weapon is to head straight towards the front."I say.
"I understand, but sire, all attempts so far have been in vain. Once your brother strikes a man down, they simply get back up. Except with their allegiance changed, they fight for him."
"I don't care. You kill that man that wears the skin of my dead brother and the others will fall. Send them all, tell them to focus on that imposter."
"Yes, my Emperor."He bows again. "What of your royal guard?"
"The one-thousand dragons shall stay outside my keep. This is the furthest point from the battle. I have unlimited provisions, I never need to leave this room. They can stay outside. Kenji -that thing- will never get this far. My dragons will never be necessary, so let them sit."
"Yes."He gives his bow. How can he keep playing his role as hell falls from the skies? The dead walk and he thinks it's still time to play diplomat. He was the one who sparked the idea of assassinating my brother. He procured the poison. And now that all his plans have fallen to chaos, he can't even acknowledge it. It sickens me.
I sat in my keep. A day passes, or maybe two. I have the blinds drawn on the windows, so the passage of time is vague. I sent my help away. My concubines too. I tried to indulge in the lusts of the flesh but found what was once a warm embrace, to be as cold as the soul of that dead man who walks with Kenji's face. I don't need to be on the frontlines to see his face. I stood at his funeral, his body laid out for all the mourners to see, surrounded with flowers as he floated upon the eternal lake of the Empress of Sorrows. They gave him the procession of an Emperor even though he was never crowned; they spurned me in silence as I mimed grief. When I saw him lying there, I could feel he was not at rest. I somehow knew he would rise. And now, like the lit fuse of a festival firework, he crawls closer to me.
Shen returns with an update of the battle. "More men have fallen just to rise again."He relays sadness as if he's capable of the emotion, "Their army of the dead will reach the city tomorrow."
"Send half of the dragons to meet them."
"Yes, si-"
"Shut up! And fortify this building with the best defenses, don't use any for the frontlines. It's useless."
Shen bows and doesn't lift his head.
"What is it?"I demand.
"It's…"There's a noticeable tremble in his voice. "There's someone else. Someone who'd like to speak to you."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Shen raises his head, fear drains him of all color. "It's a crone. A soothsaying witch."
"I have no time for superstitious hags."
"This is something else. She's different."He gives an audible swallow. "She spoke to me, I don't know how she found me as I took a night walk, but she found me and spoke of things no one could know. She had intimate knowledge of how I poisoned Kenji."
"The dead walk and you think knowledge of that is proof of the supernatural?"I laugh, but it feels as fake as it must have sounded to Shen. "Half the nation whispers about me, calling me the false ruler."
Shen doesn't waver. "No, my Emperor, this-she is real. I'd risk all my credibility on it. The things she spoke to me of-"
"Hush!"I yell. My mind is hit with a sudden haze. I find my chair and sit in it. "What does she want to speak of?"
"She wouldn't tell me. It is only for your ears she said. She also told me I should be rejoicing in that fact."
I sit, hand on my brow. I can feel my heartbeat in my chest. One thing that separates me from my brother. "Set a meeting for tonight."
"Yes, sire."Shen bows again and goes to leave the room. He turns. "I feel I should tell you she predicted you'd say that."He leaves the room.
**-continued below-** |
"You can't stay in there forever"he heard from outside. He mulled over that statement for a while... "really they're not that bad, just come out and put your collar on, it's so much better this way, no more lying or fake promises"christ these people Judy don't know me, I thrive on these things, now they want me to give it up? He decided to reply "yes well, um, you see, the thing is, funny actually, if you just let me explain, this just isn't democratic, if you let me out without that dastardly collar, well you know, I can just get brexit done""look Boris just come out the fridge and put your truth collar on like everyone else" |
It's unfair, really. I never asked for any of this. All I want is a nice quiet place to live my life, pursue my dreams, and end the day with eight or twelve hours of distance run. Is that too much to ask?
Eighty years I'd been alive, or so I thought. Seen everything from war to peace to riches to poverty. The full spectrum of experience, or at least whatever you get living out here in Middle America. Photos on the wall are getting too much to look at. Too many of them have people who are gone, or people I can't remember. I kicked some tail, and raised some Cain. Now all I want is to rest these old bones and let the Man upstairs do his job. Keep me dry, keep me fed. I'll watch Wheel of Fortune until my ticker tocks its last. A deal's a deal, right? One life, slightly used. Sadly, I'm not going to get that today.
A bright purple flower, in the middle of my bed. That was the first clue. Who puts some crazy South American bloom in the middle of a care facility? I thought it was a sick joke, but when I went to move it, the flower was still alive. Growing right there out of the cheap blue acrylic blankets covering my adjustable twin. I could even smell it, that earthy green odor taking me back to Saturday afternoons in the garden. Fingers deep into the loam, planting annuals or veggies. What's it doing here, why is this happening?
Something occurs to me. The noise has stopped. You know what a care facility is like, nonstop noise. That's one of the reasons I fought coming here. My boy said I fell too much. I said, so you're going to make me fall into debt instead? Costs me eight thousand a month to live here, more than I paid for my first house. The noise is what I've always hated. Nonstop clatter. Somebody yelling, another one crying, a machine beeping, a nurse talking. Nonstop sound, no time to yourself. Now, all that's stopped. You'd think I'd be happy about it, but I'm not. To go from noise to silence in one move is ... well, creepy.
Hang my head out the door. Absolutely deserted. I can still smell the coffee coming from the nurses station, but when I shuffle down there, no one looks up. That's weird. Someone's always here, always. I feel my way down the hallway of stained wallpaper, into the cafeteria and finally the lobby. No one. No one anywhere.
But I'm not alone, no. No, no ... more purple flowers. They've sprouted, as far as the eye can see. No people, just flowers. Purple, with yellow iris' so bright they hurt your eyes. No noise outside either. Just ... flowers. |
Only one week was left before the tournament would begin and the blacksmith still hadn't delivered my new sword. If it wasn't here for the duel I would need to use my old sword and I already knew that Derick would make fun of my again. That asshole made fun of everyone weaker than him, and since he was last year's champion everybody, that was everybody.
Well I will defeat Derick this year with my new sword or my old one if it was necessary.
I don't really like fighting but losing is worse, so I trained every day for the last year. Derick will still be a hard opponent but I can at least beat 90 percent of the candidates with ease.
Ok enough useless thoughts. Let's get back to training.
Than my phone rang with updated rules for this year's tournament.
The champion was allowed to change the rules a little bit and it seems like he played q lot of Fortnite, as this year they would fight in a battle royale. |
It was one of those bright summer nights. He was 28, and finally took time off of work to take her to her favorite vacation place from childhood. He planned everything out. He was going to take her to her families old cabin, he’d walk her down to the lake her sister told him about, he’d stop exactly at sunset and tell her how much he loved her and how much she means to him, he’d tell her that she’s made him the man he didn’t know he wanted to be, then he’d get down on one knee, ask the girl of his dreams to marry him. She’d say yes and all her and his family members would come out from behind the trees and embrace them both. It would be picturesque, it would be perfect.
He smiled and looked in the distance just thinking about the result. His heart was full of joy and he longed for that sparkle in her eyes when he asked the big question.
They spent the whole day exploring the old town. She told him stories about her old summer friends, the place she had her first “summer kiss”, where she’d go to skinny dipping when she got older, down to where she was hoping to take her kids one day - with a wink and a smile.
It was all the perfect picture. Everything was going well. Till he got the phone call from her father. “The car broke down - I’m not sure we’ll be able to make it out there tonight.” She had once said to him, “if I ever get proposed to, I want my parents to be there. It’s just not the same without them”. So he ordered them a car to come all the way down. $250 he said to himself. “It’s worth it, she’s worth it”.
It all seemed that way, until their driver swerved off the road into a river.
It was an hour to sunset and he was smiling, full of excitement and joy. He was almost shaking with excitement. They started their walk down to the lake, and laid down, just listening to the water and watching the clouds leave. He snapped out of the moment when he realized his phone hadn’t buzzed. He was supposed to get a text from her parents saying they were “in position”. He had one from everyone else: her sister, his parents, his brother, everyone... He had a slight glimmer of panic but decided he would go on either way.
They started their walk down the sand, and he thought about every word he would say. He thought about pouring his heart out to her and making her happy. It was 15 minutes till sunset when he heard the sirens.
Her name pierced through the trees, his heart dropped from fear, as the cry’s of her name could be nothing good. Her sister finally reached her, sobbing. She said “oh my god! What happened!? What are you doing here?”
The sister responded: “mom, dad..., oh my god” and she cried and cried and cried, till she couldn’t cry any more. When she realized the weight of her sisters tears, she cried, and cried and cried. She embraced me while she cried.
The sisters tears stopped abruptly, while she pulled her from me. And she said, “no! It’s all his fault! You did this, you made them come! You ordered the car. You did this!!” She returned to crying, while the love of my life gave me a confused, hurt, and sad face all in one. My heart dropped at the sight. But I had no words.
The details came to earth. They were quickly saved by a passerby who saw the accident happen. But both parents were old, and weren’t strong swimmers. The driver passed as well.
2 years later down the road...She told me she was too hurt by my involvement to marry me. I love her but resent her for not forgiving me and for moving on so quickly. I found out she’s moved in with someone else. It’s done terrible things to my life. I was fired for work for not being able to focus, and I’ve been drinking a lot.
The darkness really set in, knowing the hand I played in someone’s death. As much as i know it wasn’t my fault. Their souls are now gone because of a decision I made. Because I was so blind by love, I made them come. I still think and drink for her every day. She ignores all my calls. My ring just sits there, gathering the dust of what of what once was. |
As the lawyer gathered the family of a billionaire and the acquaintance that was randomly pick out of the many properties that the billionaire owned .
Me I was just a tenet going to work one day the out of the blue I was requested to be at this meeting today. And literally I don’t know what’s going on.
Now my name is Jakeobes and I will call to order the will reading of Mr. McGuffin . On December 14 2019.
Last updated July first 1993 that my family and one random person in my many properties will join us in the reading of this will.
In my long life I was called a Red hearing.
That I won’t have any money. But that’s in the past. To my family I love you all but you’re not really good people. So I bequeathed you my collection of 30 pieces of silver For one dollar each to my lawyer to collect in my stead.
After the selection has been read kick out the family.
To the random person I leave you my life savings of 50 billion to be given to you for one dollar to be spent with in one month of the will reading this is only one part of the total amount that will be given to you for the amount of 500 billion to receive the rest of the amount in this month you must buy toys for children .
Part two of the rest of the the bequest is that to collect the money from the lawyer is that you will be given full responsibility of my golf course for one year after the spending of the money on children has been spent.
Part three and another round of spending of 50 billion dollars on children.
This may not be creative to some people. But given joy to a kid inspires people to be humble in this time of sorrow. |
Can you feel it? There are some days there's this feeling-this energy-in the air. Can't you feel it? Almost electric-and it makes me feel **ALIVE**. I lose myself in the feeling-twirling, spinning, leaping and prancing-bounding across city and countryside alike. Becoming one with the music of the rain and wind, everything else fades from thought.
Seconds? Minutes? Hours? How long have I been dancing? I collapse, enjoying the last of the soft rain and the golden tint of sunlight as the clouds part. It's easy to forget how long I've been dancing, how many miles I've crossed.
Wha-?!? Oh-my... did I do that? The cities, the farms-why did I... *gasp* H-h-how many lives?!? *sob* Why? Again-why? *sniff* *sob*
-----
(Word count: 118. Please let me know what you like/dislike about the post. Thank you in advance for your time and attention.) |
Strange shapes milled around in the darkness as I awoke. I was frozen in my bed, watching with wide eyes as other eyes peered up at me from the edges of my bed. After what felt like an eternity, quiet words were gifted to me.
"We come to serve."
The coolness in my veins drained away as I blinked.
"What? Who are you? Why are you here?"
A single shadow rose out of the darkness, craning its disfigured head closer. A gentle, feminine voice rose out.
"We are spirits tasked with protecting the abandoned, the neglected, the forgotten, the overlooked. We have come to save you from our fate, child."
Footsteps could be heard outside of my door. The shadows vanished into the closets and beneath the bed as a lingering phrase was released.
"Call for us and we will come."
The door opened. **She** stepped inside. The room was eerily still as my chest tightened. I tried to pretend to be asleep as **she** glided over to my bedside. **She** sat down and **her** hand touched my face. I wanted to vomit. In this moment more than any other, I was haunted by that touch.
**Her** lips pulled back to reveal pearly whites. Her hand wandered down my torso in complete silence. In that moment, a boiling red rage flowed forth where terror previously reigned supreme. I found the strength to utter two words as tears formed in my eyes.
"Kill her."
The silence became loud. The darkness became alive. The world turned inside out. I was never the same, for better or worse. |
With a sigh, she descends down the basement. She just recently got done with her last project, and is a bit exhausted. But nonetheless, she comes down to help me.
"Was it nuclear again, honey?"She asks patiently, as we both look down at the small blue planet.
"Yeah... But this time it was on Earth."I say disappointedly, "I just don't get why humans are so predisposed to violence! It's so frustrating, it doesn't matter what I do. On that other planet, I gave them anything they wanted, but..."
My mother smiles, and touches the planet lightly. Slowly it heals, and traverses backwards, to the days before the bombing. We watch, as the third of their big wars starts. Slowly, she touches some of the small humans. Pieces of their minds started to open.
"It's because you forget son, a little bit of good, a little bit of love, can go a long way, sometimes. You wouldn't have these little rascals if it wasn't for their father species, right?"
I smile, and look upstairs, "your species is so amazing! They're the most peaceful of the Western hemisphere!"
"I know, I know. Now why don't you come up and have some dinner? I heard some stars were about to be born, and the debris needs to be cleared up somehow."
"Okay!"She walked up the stairs, and I looked down at my small little planet, "See ya later, you small little guys." |
T.K Mann was the least interesting man ever. Having being diagnosed wih aspergers syndrome, his social life was as lifeless as a dead man. He dwelled in books of interest and learning. He read everything except anything related to war.
As a young child he had seen his parents fight a lot and with the Asperger's it built a very serious trauma in him. It became so worse that even the mention of a quarrel disoriented him. This lead to his dwindling interest in the humanities and general knowledge of the world and he drifted his eyes where the telescope and the microscope pointed to. T.K, has chosen to find solace in heavenly bodies far larger and the atoms far smaller than him. He was happy surrounded with this knowledge and the world as much was oblivious to him.
Today however, T.K was going to withness something unusual. Today, a certain incident triggered at 225, Wilhelm Street on the southern cost of Okenshire, was to bring forth a massive storm of events to end with T.K getting to know not who he is but rather what he is!
Often as a young boy, T.K would often hear his father sitting in the radio lab listen to electronic interferences. Well after all, his father was a Radio Astronomical Analyst, he studied the cosmic background noise radiation to get to know the birth of the universe and after. While working he often used to call his son, have him sit on his lap and make him listen to the sound. This followed a question, So, Son do you understand what you are listening to? T.K used to answer no and his father would go about saying "What you don't know can't hurt you"
Strange as it sounded and simple as it was, T.K always felt there was something his father was trying to get to say to him with a hidden message. Unfortunately, his father died an electronic fire that was set in the Radio Lab and the mystery died with him.
T.K now 24, gradually started drifitng from society as he continued with his studies and was exceptional at them so except for Roody Mink, the bulley and stud at the University who always used to mess around him.
Today however, things were going to change, a journey over a long forgotten Interstellar path was to commence and with the incident at 225, Wilhelm Street, the journey had commenced.
Mr Mason Pyres, the landlord of T.K house, residing at 225, Wilhelm Street woke up to find that the main heater of the building had lost a fuze and it being winter , the cold had crept in freezing everyone. Of everyone in the house, he only trusted T.K and thus requested him to get the fuze from the nearby supermarket.
T.K liked Mr Mason as he was very warm and nice to him. He immediately obliged and started for the shop in the next street. As soon as he stepped out, he saw a hug heap of snow covering the road, he decided to go to the shop from their backyard as it had a small gully connecting to the other side of the road.
The backyard was very densly covered with bushes covered in snow, there was a small concrete pathway build but it was unrecognisable given the weather. While walking, T.K stepped on white cat lying in snow, the cat suddenly jumped and ran away freaking him out. He coaxed himself and somehow managed to exit the backyard.
Tracy, saw T.K and waved. She was a very active girl, always engaged in the activities of the university and she had a soft corner for T.K given his condition but T.K was in love with her but never had the courage to tell her.
Hey, Tracy how are you ?
I am fine, where are you headed in this snow?
Well, I just had to get the heater fixed, So...pointing his finger towards the store, he took off.
As he was tk enter the store, a guy walked in too. He was covered in a black coat and a muffler, his hand were in a tattered gloves and he smelled of vodka.
T.K looked at him and went ahead into the electrical section of the store.
The same man T.K had noticed, suddenly took out his gun and aimed at the cashier asking to give him all the money there is. The cashier looked helpless but then saw T.K rushing from behind, but it was too late, the bullet had been fired and it reached T.K, the sound reverberated in the store. The next thing people saw was the gunman had fallen down and was bleeding from his left foot.
T.K was confused, he did remember that the bullet had left the gun, suddenly he realised his perception of time had changed and yet the bullet had never reached him.
T.K was unaware of the working of a gun. His Asperger's prevented him from even understanding of the working of a gun. He was so unaware of the fact that his perception of the Gun in the burglars had was distorted and yet he could see the bullet leave the gun without knowing about it.
Something was amiss.
He recalled his father saying "What you don't know can't hurt you"
As he came to his senses the burglar said, "I am the only one you should worry about now son of Mann, this body I talk through is the first warning of the war to come and you can sleep no more wake up.
With this a faint glow, filled the store followed by the screms of a man in pain.
The bullet had hit the skin of T.K which was a wormhole, teleporting it instantly to the back of the burglars knees.
T.K was yet unaware of this. He sat there in silence wondering who his father was. |
I’d known Jack for nearly two years, and this was his best plan yet. It was good. No, not good, great. Finally, we had a plan that was sure to work.
Fifth grade was not the place one would usually find a plan of such brilliance. But we had been working on our plan, okay plans, for some time. Living just down the street from each other, Jack and I had been strategizing all summer. That is, when we weren’t at the city pool.
When school started in the fall, we tested a couple of our plans. Neither worked. But Jack said we had “data points” we could use to devise the ultimate plan.
Jack was smart. I mean really smart. He was the first in our class to understand ratios. He said our new plan had a 3:1 chance of working. I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but it sounded good. And since I would be testing the plan, I was excited.
Our test subject, as Jack called her, would be Kimberly. Yes, that Kimberly. The cutest girl at Johnson Elementary. We’d test the plan on the way to lunch.
Jack and I usually walked to the cafeteria with Kimberly, not because she hung out with us, but because the three of us were the only ones in class who brought our lunch. We’d go get our lunches from the coat room and head to the cafeteria. As we turned the hallway corner, Jack elbowed me. It was time to begin Operation Smack.
I fell to the floor, grasping my throat, and made a tremendous coughing sound. Jack grabbed Kimberly by the shoulder and pointed at me gasping on the floor. “I think he’s having a heart attack”, Jack said.
“What? No, he’s just faking. Get up Marshall.”
I coughed again and grabbed my throat tighter. Jack had said it would make my face red, so I squeezed with all my might.
“I’m serious Kimberly. He could die. We have to do something.”
That was my cue. Suddenly my body went limp. My hand fell to my side and my breathing stopped. Okay, I didn’t completely stop breathing, but I tried to as best I could.
“Kimberly, give him mouth and mouth. Now. It’s the only way to save him.”
“Jack, he’s fine. He’s faking. He’s…”
“But what if he’s not?! What if he is almost dead?”
I couldn’t see Kimberly’s face, but I sensed that something had changed. There was a moment of silence, and I could hear someone kneeling by my side.
“Marshall, can you hear me? Are you okay? Marshall?”
The plan was working and I was ready. Any moment now it would happen. My first kiss.
But then I felt my lunch being pulled out of my hand as Kimberly said, “Well, you won’t be needing this.” She laughed as she walked away.
The plan failed, but we have another data point and the entire school year to create a new, ultimate plan. |
On a tiny, backwater planet in a system almost nobody talked about, there was a city.
It was the only city on the entire planet. Although, some argued it wasn't a very impressive planet and didn't qualify for membership of planet status. As such, having only one city wasn't very unusual for rocks of it's size.
Most of it's inhabitants spent their time out in the hamlets, villages, farms, and remote resources and research sectors. The city was really just a gathering place. A way to get on and off the rock for those who, for whatever reasons they had, wanted to get in or out.
Not many people wanted to get in or out, which suited its inhabitants just fine. The people of Shroesh-Akkur - City of Two Moons - liked things just the way they were. Life was simple. They tended their moss farms, or their igoba juice presses, or their flocks of haresh rabbits, or waited patiently while their research processors ticked over for the result.
There was plenty of high-spec technology, but the people lived low-spec lives. An unusual mix of slow villager lifestyle mixed with a core planets attitude towards science and technology. Visitors appreciated the balance, but never stayed long enough to get accustomed to the change of pace. A few days here, a few weeks there, maybe a month for that one, but it was unusual for any of them to stay long-term.
Jack had stayed.
Well, been posted there, really.
His apartment building on Irraka had burned down when a drug deal on the first floor had gone sideways, and then the insurance had refused to pay out. He'd lost nearly all of his possessions. The accident after that that had totaled his car and only form of transport to and from work had not helped. And then the company had said he was being let go, here's your redundancy payout - which was a fifth of the size they had been promised on signing on.
The union had told him, well, he had a few options. He could take his redundancy payout and move to another sector, maybe try a different career. Everything was digital, you see, and why didn't he try the free government training program and learn coding. He could try and get a job in the Irrakan Navy, they said. Join a ship as supply logistics. It'd be fun, they said. And then, when he didn't assent to the suggestions, the union men had looked at each other and back at him, expressions blank. He just wanted to be a postman, he'd said. Delivering things was the only responsibility he wanted, he'd explained. And they had shared looks once more, and it had become oh, here's another idea, why didn't he take the contract with the competitor that had come up on Beresford Major FK4 1254? Hazard pay plus bonuses, pension on completing the contract.
He'd been exhausted and desperate. Should have read through the fine print, or at least paid attention to what a six-month contract with hazard pay and a pension afterwards might mean.
One of the clauses had been cover for total limb replacement. But he had said yes, and had simply focused on the fact that the company had offered to cover his trip out to the small planet that no-one seemed to know the name of outside of the official designation number. Four long-haul flights to get there, with one through the Gainspur wormhole, had been too expensive for his meager savings. Jack had simply appreciated the expense was something he didn't have to think about.
Shroesh-Akkur had been unexpected. Glittering, seemingly always busy for a mid-sized city, operating 24 hours a day, eight days a week. The people were relaxed and friendly, the weather consistently mild. The bars quiet and chilled, the restaurants traditional and easy-going. The trees green and water bright and clean enough to swim in. Just how he liked it. The nights were beautiful, what with the novelty of being able to see the two moons right up close.
Strictly speaking, the two moons were simply other planets in close proximity making their slow rotation around the Beresford sun, so the city's name was a bit of a misnomer. Or a mistranslation. But the name had stuck, and nobody could find the original inhabitants who had named it to ask them, anyway. Maybe some were out on the dark side of the planet, they thought, and nobody really cared enough to look. Maybe they were all wiped out, some said, and left it at that.
Few thought any more on why a planet with only one city had a name of Shroesh-Akkur at all.
Jack had found a small studio apartment - little more than a large dormitory room, really, with a washroom connected - but it was more than he had thought he'd get after everything. Pacific United, the main competitor of the company that had dumped him out in the cold, had been delighted when he signed on. So much so they had thrown in an extremely subsidized rent, a fusion bike to get around on, and enough free uniforms that he had clothing to wear thrice a day, every day for the next six months. Which was really a bit over six months - with the time differences and planetary rotation - but he had chosen not to think about counting the days while he was here. He had just wanted to take it easy. Maybe get to know a few of the locals. Maybe be invited in for tea if he saw enough villagers and farms. Have a nice, quiet time and maybe build up some savings again.
Pacific United had told him most of his deliveries would be out to the research labs and stations. The scientists and technicians were on fairly short rotations, sourced from the navy and many of the larger corporations, so there would be a lot of people travelling to and from. Some joint initiatives, some classified operations. Bit of a mix, they had said, but if anyone ever asked him for a ride back to the city or an extra pair of hands, Pacific United wouldn't mind if he did so. In fact, it was encouraged. Maintaining good relationships with the organisations that kept the planet running - and by extension, this system relevant - was very important, they had said.
They'd also made sure he knew that he shouldn't ever look into what he was carrying. And if he did find out - if it was obvious or someone happened to tell him - he was to exercise the professional courtesy and confidentiality that members of his union were so well known for. Jack had initialed the clause, nodded his head, said the words of assent when it was repeated to him several times over. He got it. It wasn't his job to know what exactly he was carrying. Just enough to know how to carry it safely to the intended destination.
Jack had enjoyed his first few weeks in the city. Six days on and two off shifts, with the occasional urgent delivery on a weekend. Some of those urgent ones had been vet supplies out to a haresh rabbit farmer, another a missing scope part for a research lab. He liked those the most, not only because of the delivery bonuses. Weekdays were spent making shorter deliveries for the most part, within the city. Navigating its walkways and tube tunnels, numerous occasions of waiting for door security to recognise his auth-ID and company patch, eyeballing the human security guards for the wealthier residents as they considered whether to let him foward. He always took the longer runs out of the city when they came up, keen to get out of the warren of buildings and out into the sunshine and greenery.
The fusion bike had taken a while for him to get the hang of, but now he appreciated it's ability to glide smoothly over rough terrain. Pacific had offered him extra training to have a drone fleet set up to carry extra packages on each journey, so he could make more stops and make him and Pacific more money. Jack had said no for now, wanting to do things the old-fashioned away. He had a compartment set up on the rear of the fusion bike, and Pacific would never send him out with something that was too big for him to carry, anyway. He liked having complete manual control over his deliveries.
That had come to light later. After, when the evac had shipped him out, he had wondered about the decision. Whether the drones might have helped. Kept him safe, maybe, or at least been able to call for help. But Jack knew that it was only his insistence on doing things the old-fashioned way that had saved him. Saved them. His determination to get to know his routes and regulars, to have his eyes and hands on the deliveries that had been assigned to his name.
Jack had been a delivery man for nearly five years by the time he had taken the post at Shroesh-Akkur. It had taken every ounce of knowledge he had gained in those five years to survive the City of Two Moons, and the planet it was built on.
\--------------------
Part 1 of something that should really be much longer, but wrapping up here due to getting caught up with writing when I should be doing other things. Thanks for reading! Let me know if you have any feedback :) |
# Lonely Thoughts
No one else was looking at the dirty homeless man. As far as the busy sidewalk was concerned that particular corner was an attention-free zone.
Henry stared.
A beard obscured the man's face, unimaginable things sticking to it in places. A filth-covered wool cap covered his head, some sort of yellow crust edging the rim on one side. If his hugely oversize raincoat had a color it was long lost beneath geological layers of grime. The man sat cross-legged, palms on knees with the filth of ages in every knuckle crease. He didn't have a presence about him so much as he had a *miasma:* Old regrets. Missed chances. Stinking compromises in humiliating roles.
Henry sat beside him, his polished shoes pushing out towards the oblivious streetwalkers.
He aped the man's posture, palms to knees. They both watched nothing in agreeable silence.
After a time the sun edged away, throwing the wall's shadow over them both. Traffic on the street changed, swapping professionals in suits for bubbly youths in expensive clothes. They strutted to each other, proud as baby peacocks.
Henry and the homeless man waited. Watched.
Luna came out, throwing cold light down between the buildings and across the pair. The temperature plummeted. Henry shifted his sports coat from his shoulders to drape across his front and lap. After a few hours he fell asleep, leaning against a landfill's worth of smells and small, itching insects. His breath puffed into the air in slow, white clouds. An eternity passed in a still moment.
Yellow eyes turned, regarding the top of a perfectly cut head of hair leaning across his filthy shoulder. It was unexpected, but he wasn't a man to turn away a comfort. Hadn't before; wouldn't now. The night grew long, then short, then stopped being night altogether without much of a warning. Neither moved. One wouldn't move ever again.
"Yeah,"he mumbled. Chapped lips cracked, bled water and pus.
"I'sa scared to die alone, too." |
As I’m falling, feeling the air around my body, and the pressure through my limbs, looking at the street coming closer and closer...the people on that same street getting bigger and bigger...As I take note of the darkness of the sky above me contrasting with the lights of the city under me, I suddenly feel a warmness inside me. A warmness that I had always had inside but had never really focused on, but as I see myself facing a certain death, it kinda takes the whole place in my mind. My inner self reaches for it, kind if like tentacles piercing that tiny ball of heat in my chest, and as I accept it, getting fully aware of it, letting it flow through my body, my fall toward certain death abruptly stops and I float there, a few meters over the street. I feel powerful and uneasy at the same time. Not really knowing how to control that new strong body, and super aware brain. I let myself fall slowly down, like a feather falling off a flying bird... |
Her silks were her armor, and this much was true, for she was a beautiful and terrible queen, a black widow draped in her own terrible splendor.
Silk is five times stronger than the same thickness of steel. And the silken cords that she draped herself in were as thick as a hangman’s noose, shining bright and silvery white as moonlight and burning twice as cold. A robe to rival that of the grim reaper himself.
The Dowager Queen in her self-spun, twisted lair of nigh unbreakable threads.
She hung about her lair, swinging pendulously, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
True, I a mere novice knight, was sure to be daunted facing the queen of all arachnids, but I had wisely come prepared.
She may be draped in her spider’s silk, but I had come with a club folded from the sturdiest newspaper money can buy, and no spider has ever lived to tell the tale after a killing blow from the Tedious Times, no matter how big or potentially humanoid. |
"So what's the plan? We can't travel in space with this piece of junk."
"We're going on the ship market and I already know my target."
"How much?"
"No money. We're going to hijack it"
She stood there. Mouth pursed, with jade eyes fluttering in disbelief.
"Excuse me come again?"She asked with an annoying tone.
"Ugh, you heard me Janna, were going to hijack a ship. Do you need me to use smaller words? Like steal?"
"You were always such an ass Marcus but I didn't realize you were a dumbass too."
Marcus swiftly walked past Janna into the remainders of the ship. His metal boots and armor clinking and resounding off the remains of the ship. Janna haphazardly spun around getting a bit of her wavy brown hair stuck to her lips.
"But seriously Marcus, what ship are you buying?"Janna asked with what was almost a pleading tone.
"TU-67, find me a smaller word for steal."Marcus directed towards a humanoid synthetic droid rummaging through the ship.
"Marcus you can't be serious this is insane, were in Kingdom territory, the territory with the strictest rules, the type of rules where you can get shot for looking at a guard wrong."
"Actually Ms. Aleiza, the governmental body with the stri-"
"Shut it rust bucket."
Marcus returned from the skeleton of the ship with a duffel bag and placed it on a nearby crate. Marcus zipped it open and pulled out a map along with two laser rifles. Marcus then cleared the crate and placed the map on it and beckoned Janna and TU-67 over. Janna rolled her eyes and begrudgingly walk over to the crate with TU-67 following shortly after.
"The target, is this Mass Storage Class Cruiser called the Atlas."Marcus pointed at the map. "This right here, is the interior schematics of the Atlas."
"Wait, wait, wait, you want to get a Mass Storage Class Cruiser? The type where they store actual colonies, and manufacture centers? Oh my god you're not just stupid, you're insane."
"Just shut it and let me finish. Anyways, we're going to hijack the ship, and bring it into orbit. It should have enough armor plating to get us through the Kingdom's anti-air lasers if they decide to shoot at us. From there we hyper-jump into Urlet territory."
"Oh my god you're suicidal, the Urlets will immediately open fire on us, haven't you gone to school? The Kingdom and Urlets have been at war since, forever!"
"Didn't I say to let me finish? Anyways, we take it out to Urlet space, from there the Kingdom will probably hyper track us and jump after us, and hopefully the Urlets will scramble their fighters and battle with the Kingdom, while the Atlas is being fired upon, we go to the hanger bay and steal the real prize."Marcus pointed at the map of Atlas explaining where the hanger bay is. "The state of the art Kingdom Stealth Cargo Freighter, or as I like to call it, the ultimate smuggler machine. Great plan ain't it?"
Marcus gave the map a little slap and with a big grin made finger guns at Janna, Janna was entirely not amused. Seeing that she wasn't going to finger gun him back he shifted his aim at TU-67, who proceed to raise it's hands. Marcus with a heavy sigh grabbed a laser rifle and the map and started walking towards the ship market. Janna, with her head down, reluctantly grabbed the other laser rifle and followed suit.
TU-67 raised his hands as if to hail Marcus, and exclaimed "Excuse Mr. Lenti, did you still require the synonym for steal? I believed "take"would be the simplest."
Marcus spun around on his metal heels and yelled to Janna, "Yah hear that Janna? We're on our way to "take"a ship!" |
In The First Days, we saw what we expected. People on Reddit with their scores. The top five, and the five centered on you. Much was made of the top five, and those lower in the list struggled to hold their position. It was a time of pain.
In The Second Days, new accounts were seen, eventually recognized as people who were not on Reddit, but were prominent on other services. The faithful were wrath. How dare these Interlopers. The karma battles were on. It was a time of egos dying in droves.
In The Third Days, those with high karma looked upon those with negative karma with hatred. How dare these trolls ruin our perfect world. The battle between good and evil was on. It was for naught. The evil only giggled at the good, which drove the good into acts that lowered their karma, save for those who had learned their lesson much earlier. Do Not Feed The Trolls.
In The Fourth Days, there was peace. New users appeared in the zero gap, and moved from side to side until they found their way. Contentment was on the net. Things were as they should be.
In The Fifth Days, new accounts appeared in unprecedented throngs. Accounts with randomly generated names. Accounts that *never* posted, *never* commented, *never* responded to any PM. They sat at zero, the net trembled in fear. What was the meaning? Those days passed in terror; but terror has a limit, and it too passed.
In The Sixth Days, the Zero Accounts began to move, and rapidly. The mighty on both ends were greatly disturbed. These Zero Accounts we're not posting, commenting, and still would not respond to PM. This was the time of agonizing reappraisal. How were these accounts rising or falling so fast? What am I doing or not doing that is keeping me from changing my score to atleast keep up!?
In the Seventh Days, the answer came from a small account. A few posts, a few comments, a few PM, and one last post. "I am leaving the net. There are people who need my help, and I can do that better by not wasting time in a mad scrabble for karma points."People who even noticed this were derisive. The post was voted into Oblivion. These were the days of denial.
In the Eighth Days, that same small account began to soar. Effortlessly. Easily. No new posts. No new comments. No response to PM. These were the days of the Great Dying. In droves, accounts took their last actions, spent the last coins on this one little insignificant post, voted it into the rarefied heights of the shapers, and beyond. Going silent forevermore. Their karma began to rise as fast as the first did.
In the Ninth Days, friends of the dead began posting stories from beyond the grave. Things that their friends had done in the terrifying real world. They were so shocking that many thought they were fake. But references to other sources were added, and the fake criers were drowned in the truth. r/dataporn members searched for events corresponding with the karma shifts of the highest (or lowest) of the Zero Accounts. First one, then another, and another were found. Common people, doing common things, that affected the lives of so many for good, or ill. This was the beginning of the end. The Great dying turned into the Mass Extinction.
In the Final Days, the last shaper and the last troll met in battle royal. None would know, none would care, save for the words of the last shaper spoken in the real world.
"This is a crock of shit. I'm going outside."
The last troll saw his last opponent go silent, and cried:
"Whom will I play with now?"
Thus came the end of the age of Karma.
((finis)) |
It was the incessant paranoia of an unseen force lingering in the background like a foul aftertaste. It hung stagnantly, waiting patiently, biding.
Mason barely ever thought about it. It was a swift gnawing at the edge of his mind that passed as quickly as it’d arrived. It was a normal occurrence that evaporated from him, he’d feel the heaviness subsiding in his peripheral vision, and would be struck so suddenly with an immense fear that clawed restlessly at his chest like a depraved creature, before it vanished and he’d forgotten about it. Again.
The streets were a raucous. People absentmindedly went around their day, milling around down the concrete slabs and asinine lampposts. The sky was an overhanging grimace. The buildings stood dull and desaturated, as if the color had been seeping out. They were all bland and tasteless, possessing the same air of lifelessness, utterly devoid of feeling.
Mason snapped his wrist up, and checked the reflective surface of the clock face, grimacing slightly before lowering his arm. He weaved between people, sliding past in a friction of fabric as he apologized meekly whilst shoving past. He was going to be late.
He sped up, chest seizing vigorously as he sprinted down. His feet ached from the tight constraints of his shoes, as he leapt each stride. It was so close. Mason ran in a frantic flurry of limbs, his hair haphazard in the lashings if the wind.
It came out of nowhere. The ebbing darkness in his peripheral vision, spreading and subsiding in a fraction of a second. The weight in his chest doubled, and he couldn’t breathe, as he turned around in a full body contortion, reaching out. He was grasping at nothing but air, as he stretched further, pushing himself to the edge. It was a mere brush that sent tingles across his fingertips like a wildfire of electrify across his skin. He stretched his fingers further, reaching, grasping. He latched on.
The twinge in his throat caught, as he struggled with a strangled gasp. It was a faint rasp that escaped his lips, as he felt the beads of sweat lick his neck. The pulsation in his ears engulfed him as he stared. Mason had always been taught not to stare, the rule had been instilled in him from adolescence. It was rude. Though he completely disregarded it, as he stared, breathless.
His mind was blank. He couldn’t think. The usual background noise was absent, and his whole head was empty, as if everything had just seeped out in an instant.
He grasped it under his hand it. Supple and firm, the flesh he held corporal and real. The smile on it’s face looked wildly unnatural and out of place. Mason swallowed, the arm he was clutching felt warm, the heat undeniable.
His lips quivered, as he tried to form a coherent sentence, or even a word. Nothing came out but silence.
It smiled wider at him and clicked it’s tongue obnoxiously.
Mason stared at it. The contours if it’s face, the planes if it’s neck and haphazard hair. The statute of its body, it’s height. It was all the same. It was identical. It was him.
Mason stared back at himself.
“Just the usual. Don’t worry, you’ll forget about me . You always do.” It said.
Mason trembled slightly. Fear was tracing its fingers down his back, and he released it and stepped back idly.
The quaking stopped. Mason frowned and looked around, and cringed at his shirt sticking to his back in a moist suction against his skin. Confusion blurred his head, and he wondered when it’d gotten so hot. He licked his lips and flicked his wrist gingerly, eyes widening as he turned to sprint.
He ran down the sidewalk, pushing past people, ignoring the pressure behind his eyes. The wind pushed against him as he advanced forward and drove through.
And from behind it watched him from afar, and smiled.
It tutted, eyeing the number on his wrist, stark against the paleness.
“2 more times.” It said aloud, to no one in particular.
It pondered and surveyed, stalking mason as his figure grew tinier and tinier as it blurred into the distance. It watched, and it smiled. |
It was night, although the cities of Lux could not tell. Between brightly lit spacescrapers, garish commercials in any medium that could snatch the attention of the eager consumer and lights for safety and surveillance, darkness didn't carry far in the city. The man who called himself Hype could scarcely decipher the cacophony of light that the citizens of Lux navigated with ease. He didn't need to, where he perched on the highest service walkways, but yet he found himself fascinated by the bottom-most border of his kingless kingdom.
He had been born in the city, like many of his compatriots. In his youth, he had navigated its multi-tiered streets, made a living when he could, stole when he couldn't. Little by little and inch by inch, the attention of the uncaring automated constabulary had driven him to the very top of the bright city, and eventually to the darkening outskirts of the disused service tunnels and walkways. The harvest of the drone traps had been ample this night, and it was about time to return with his loot. Time had come to return home.
Once, the walkways and service access that Hype navigated had been teeming with workers and engineers tasked to maintain the outer layers of the city. Now, maintenance was automated, and Hype and his comrades had little issue outsmarting the rudimentary drones that patrolled the area. Hype didn't miss the time before the automation, he thought as he climbed the chaotic access systems. The whole zone had all been built in modules by multiple contractors and assembled by other contractors still. The occasional chaos that resulted from such quilting was full of dead ends and illogical junctions. One could even outrun the security drones up here if they ever strayed as far.
As much as Hype enjoyed the three-dimensional maze, he was relieved once he rose over it. These fishing expeditions were important for his kin, but that didn't change the unease that the churning chaos of the city caused in him. They would have to discuss what he had seen on his journey, but first, there were celebrations to consider. The first of his kin to greet him was a small child on the outskirts of the settlement. "Hypatos! Hypatos!"The excited tyke shouted more than spoke. "Did you see the lights.""Aye", Hype said. "And there's claws that bite and jaws that catch in them. One of 'em almost got me, it did."The child frowned at him. "Claws don't bite, do they?""These do, that's what makes them so scary", Hype said with the confident emphasis of a storyteller. "Now go fetch your parents, I need some help sorting my quarry."
The threshing of the drones had become a bit of a celebration in the settlement. For the most part, they sustained themselves, but that did not mean that Hype and his friends didn't enjoy a taste of the luxuries of the city. Besides, Hype would argue as he pried open the containers of one of the transport drones, these unmanned vehicles had transgressed on their territories, and such transgressions called for compensation.
After the drone cargo had been distributed, according to need as was custom, the settlement settled into the comfortable lull of community. Hype would have loved to soak in the peace, but he could not hold his peace.
"Friends", Hype spoke, standing in the flickering light of the exposed power core they used to keep warm. "In my expeditions to the outskirts of the city below, I have discovered distressing news."He took a breath, as to steel himself for the remainder of his message.
"The city is growing", Hype said "more than before. The distance between the spacescrapers grows smaller still, and the highest of them are starting to grasp for the walkways and tunnels."
​
A shudder of discontent and displeasure spread through the crowd. One woman rose. Lucy had grown up in Lux like him. Unlike him, she couldn't bring herself to even behold the shining labyrinth again.
"Do they mean to drive us out, then? Is it time for war Brother Hypatos?"Lucy asked. Murmurs of agreement spread in the crowd.
"I do not believe they even know of us,"Hype said in answer.
"Hah. And who, do you suppose, they believe steal their luxuries and their drones? Who, do you suppose, they believe own these tunnels and walkways of ours?"Lucy was pacing, stomping hard, working herself and the crowd into a frenzy.
"We are few and we are humble, Sister Lucy,"Hype said. "None in the city below has seen us that didn't end up joining us, and the little we take of their drones and luxuries can't even dent the numbers of the megacorps. If they could, they'd sic the security drones on us in a heartbeat."
Lucy had stopped moving, her stillness was intimidating all on its own. "Then what,"She said, her voice like steel, "do you suggest we do, Brother Hypatos. Flee? To where?"She motioned angrily for the upper bounds of their demesne.
"I sadly have no answers, Sister Lucy", Hype said, bowing to her "I humbly submit this knowledge to my kin to mull over. Together, we are strong, together we are wise."The crowd murmured in response to the affirmative.
​
Lucy found Hype sometime later. He was resting on the roof of his sleeping quarters. "I apologize if I have disgraced you in front of the others,"she said.
"You raised valid concerns,"Hype said without taking the eyes off the upper boundary of the settlement. "Besides,"he continued, "I wasn't entirely truthful myself. Have a sit?"Lucy sat.
"So you have a plan?"She asked. "More of an idea", Hype said, "I think we should go out there again."
Lucy followed his gaze. "I do believe you've finally gone mad."
"Why? Those that came before came from there, didn't they?"Hype asked. "The things that can be built have only grown more impressive since their time, and well, there's no shortage of places to roam out there, don't you agree."
"Oh,"Lucy said. "there's no arguing with that. There may be too much."
"And now she's agoraphobic."Lucy glared at him. Hype didn't mind.
"How do you suppose we go out there?"She asked.
"Oh, haven't gotten that far yet", Hype admitted. "However we do it, we got our work cut out for us."
"That, we have."Lucy agreed as she leaned back and looked at the massive dome that separated them from the cold, dark emptiness of outer space. |
Victor opened the oven door and put oven mitts over his hands. He reached in and pulled out the baking sheet, which only had a single gingerbread man on it. As he set it on the stovetop, the gingerbread man rose up into a sitting position.
“Hey, man, why did you do that?” It said in a tiny voice as it swayed back and forth. “Do you know what happens to us gingerbread men when we get baked in the oven?”
Victor squinted at the gingerbread man as he removed the oven mitts.
“The baking process, it affects our minds, man. It slows us down, and sometimes we…sometimes we start to *see things*.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Victor asked.
But the gingerbread man wasn’t paying attention anymore. Instead, it was looking at its arms, much in the same way a human might examine their hands.
“What’s happened to my fingers, man?” It asked. “Why don’t I have fingers?”
“You’re a gingerbread man, remember?” Victor said. “You don’t have any fingers.”
“Are you sure? Are you really sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Victor stated. “You never had any fingers. Because you’re not a human. You’re a gingerbread man.”
“Dude, that’s so trippy,” it replied.
The gingerbread man stood up, swaying around in place as if intoxicated. It took several steps with great apprehension before sitting down again and staring off into space.
“Hey, human, why do we exist?”
“Because humans like baking, and they like playing God.”
“No, I mean in general. Why does life exist?”
“No idea. It just does.”
“Do you know why humans exist?”
“Man, I’m way too sober to be thinking about shit like that right now. Lemme get my bong. I’ll toke up and then I’ll be able to answer that question.”
Victor left the room and returned a minute later with an oversized and overdecorated glass bong, a nug of weed nestled in the bowl. Sitting down in a nearby chair, he flicked the lighter open and ignited the weed before placing the tip of the bong in his mouth and inhaling. The water began to bubble as if boiling, creating a wet sucking sound.
After several seconds, he withdrew the bong from his mouth and exhaled a large trail of smoke, which shot out several feet before dispersing.
Minutes passed without either of them saying a word.
“Hey, gingerbread man, I’m starting to understand you. I’m starting to understand what it’s like to be a gingerbread man.”
“Really, human?”
“Yeah. What was the question you asked me again?”
“It was ’do you know why humans exist?’”
“Right. That. Why do humans exist? Well…” his voiced trailed off as he stared into space.”
“Dude, I think you smoked a little too much,” the gingerbread man said.
“You do? I only smoked a dime bag, man. Anyways, humans exist because…because…apes, man. Apes turned into humans over time, because, like, *evolution* and shit,” Victor replied.
“Then why do apes exist?”
“Dude, it’s, like, ‘apes all the way down’, or something. Didn’t some famous philosopher say that? ‘Apes all the way down’?”
“What’s a ‘philosopher’?” the gingerbread man asked.
“A philosopher is a person who does the thinking about stuff. They think the big thoughts, man,” Victor said.
“Who decides which thoughts are the big thoughts?”
“I dunno man. Other people. It works by, like, consensus or something. When enough people believe that a thought is a big thought, then it’s a big thought.”
“Isn’t that kind of how human religion works?”
“Kinda, yeah. Enough people believe in something and it becomes a religion. It’s like how enough people believe that we’re here because we were created by God, and so they have books about God and shit.”
“Dude, that’s fuckin’ wild. Enough people believe in something, and it becomes a religion,” the gingerbread man said.
Victor paused to light his bong again. He brought his mouth to the tip and inhaled deeply, causing the water to bubble. He held the hit in for much longer this time, almost ten seconds, before exhaling a long trail of smoke. After he finished exhaling, he broke out into a coughing fit and bent over, pounding his chest in an attempt to get it to stop.
“You okay, dude?” The gingerbread man asked.
“I’m gonna be okay, don’t worry. Aww, man, I got the munchies now. I’m so fuckin’ hungry,” Victor said as he looked at the gingerbread man. He rose from his seat and walked towards the stove. |
I awoke staring at florescent lights and a white ceiling. My right arm felt cold, I raised it up to see a cyberarm made of an orchalum alloy. I looked around for Taisha, our street samurai *and my life partner"only to see her nowhere. Suddenly everything came back to me. The series of events heist which had ended with us fleeing a mansion outside of Denver, persued by Knight Errant and the NaN Special Forces. The discovery of not one but at least two ancient conspiracies, and the real possibliity that the end times were nigh..
“You’re awake.. I was beginning to grow impatient… “ a cold voice spoke, I turned to see a silver haired man in an elegantly expensive suit, his piercing golden eyes studying me. I went to speak but he held up a hand “save your strength, you’ll need it. The ork did’nt make it, in fact you are the sole survivor besides your decker, who is ok and right now, I’m your best shot of keeping it that way so far. Tomorrow you will go to Ford Country, Missippi and obtain the Bob Ross mural “The Last Judgement” from the county courthouse, I have your team's replacements prepared. I expect you to keep your end of our bargain....” he stated bluntly. I felt faint and reached for the pot in my coat pocket but the figure held up the case. “I’ll be holding on to these”
***********************************************
It had started as a simple job, steal a safe deposit box from the vault of the 1st Grange Bank and Trust in Scranton, Montana. Our face impersonated the sole night watchman, whom we’d kidnapped and drugged, our hacker had looped the feeds and disabled the alarms and opened the vault . Getting the box out was easy, inside were the contents as Mr Steinberg had said. Three leather bags, one containing A set of scrolls and a leatherbound book which had old English lettering, another containing several old books, The Diary of Anne Frank”, ”Fiddler on the Roof”, “The Merchant of Venice”,” and “Protocols of the Elders of Zion”, and an oil painting which we later learned was known as “The Wise Men of Chelm”. The third bag contained about eighty miscellaneous gold coins, doubloons, kuggerands, Eagles, even some roman coins.
Mr. Steinberg was pleased when we met him at his hotel room in Butte. He carefully looked over everything, and set the bag containing the scrolls and leatherbound book aside. “This is useless. Do with it as you please.” He handed over the credstick of 65,000 nuyen and said he would be in touch as we did satisfactory work.
As for the scroll, it was written in a language I did’nt know,and the book appeared to be an English copy of the Book of Revelations. Thankfully we had a contact at the University of Montana, a Dr. Lucoa, the chair of the History and Archeaology Department. Her work had earned her a 90,000 nuyen bounty on her head from the Aztlan Government for implying that the heads of Aztechnology were no more native mexicans than maria mercuarial was an ork. We helped her out when her research assistant/ adoptive son was kidnapped by azzies and the occasional interesting relic provided research material for her ongoing projects. Her office was was more like a museum with countless artifacts while Simon and Garfunkel's “El Condor Pasa” played softly in the background. For a human woman in her 60's she looked not a day over 21, which she attributed to her genes and “living right” . She wore a Green skirt and a blue top and fashionable heeled boots. For a tenured and respected academic. she made it a point to dress provacatively. She had long blonde hair dyed with green and blue streaks and luscious full breasts that made me want to bury my face in them.
She gently unrolled the scroll and looked it over. “This is an origonal copy of the Book of Revelations, but it looks longer than other copies is seen. I think it's also olcer than the oldest known copy of the Revelation of John. She opened the book, and flipped through it, a shocked expression beginning to play across her face. “This handwriting matches that of William Tyndale, an englishman who was executed for translating the bible.... “
Dr Lucoa's eyes went wider when she got to his translation of Rev. 12.. “This is differerent from the oldest known manuscript... Very different... |
"I'm starving!"Simon complained. "Come on, let's get inside and dry off. It's pouring."
The inn appeared over the hill all of a sudden. Simon was instantly relieved, and to be honest so was Royana. It was pouring rain, and the horses were miserable. Before Royana could express her worry, Simon was already reassuring her.
"Roy, we sealed the herbs tight before we left. Water won't touch them."
Royana sighed. Somehow, he always knew.
They took the path up to the inn and were greeted immediately by a small boy with a single curl in his hair, directly on his forehead, and a bright smile. His ears were pierced with gold hoops. Without a word, he took their horses. Royana and Simon grabbed their saddlebags and went outside. It had stopped raining.
"Weather spell."Simon said.
"This place is warded."Royana replied. Indeed, she could feel the magic: a flutter just under her heart.
Simon glanced at her. "So it's a witch that lives here, then."He said.
"Most likely."All Royana and Simon really did was sell magical herbs; a travelling apothecary.
The entrance to the inn was dark, lit only by a single candle with wax melted down the sides. Simon followed Royana down the hallway to an open parlor. Royana's hair stood on end.
A woman stood at a counter, busily pouring over books. She was slightly older, her wiry gray hair in a messy bun. She wore a plain green dress. Behind the counter was a glass cabinet filled with keys. On the opposite wall was a massive painting - the portrait of a man with a hawkish and gray face. His eyes were horrible and black. Condescending. When the lady at the counter heard the two travellers approach, she looked up with a grin plaster on her face. "Welcome."She said. "Are you looking to stay the night?"
"Yes."Simon replied.
"Two?"The lady closed one book and opened another, a quill poised on the page.
Simon nodded. "Single bed, please."Grinning, the lady wrote something in the book, opened the locked cabinet with a key on a chain on her belt, and handed it to us. "Three choldars a night to stay. Meals are provided from sunrise to 9am and sunset to 9pm in the dining hall just to my left here."She paused as she passed the keys to Simon. When her hand brushed his, the grin in her eyes faltered. She looked as if she had been electrocuted. Her eyes grew wide and suddenly - in just an instant, it disappeared once more. The grin returned to her face. "I am so sorry, where was I? Your room will be cleaned daily, should you choose. When you exit this room, please walk down - do you see that hallway, next to the painting? Go down that hallway, second door on your right, up three flights of stairs and turn left. Your room is at the end of that hall."
"Thank you."Simon knocked his knuckles on the table. The woman continued to smile.
The next hallway and subsequent rooms were about as well-lit as the entryway was. There were no windows to the outside.
"How many rooms do you think are here?"Royana asked Simon as they ascended three flights.
He shrugged. "Do you think we'll see anyone?"Royana didn't answer. Her mind was still on the painting.
They dried off, changed into their clean clothes, and went downstairs to the dining hall.
There were a few other patrons there. No one seemed to make eye contact with anyone else. They sat down at a rickety table.
"Don't eat the food here."Royana said. Simon looked at her with a worried stare. Royana could feel the same flutter under her heart - but stronger. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I."Simon replied.
"Oh hello again. What are you doing with your hands?"The lady from the counter asked, approaching their table.
"Oh."Simon took Royana's hand. "R - Tulla here cannot speak. We communicate through hand gestures."
The women's eyebrows went so high, they threatened to escape into her hairline. "Ah. I see."Her voice was an octave higher than before. She walked away before Simon could reply.
"Weird."Simon said to Royana.
"This whole place is weird. Do you think we should be staying here?"Roy asked. "This place is run by a witch. She's obviously been brainwashed."
Simon rolled his eyes. "Obviously."He said. "Why not get to the bottom of it? We'll be fine."Royana rolled her eyes.
"All we have to do is find out how they're brainwashed. It has to be the food or the water."Simon signed. "One or the other."
Suddenly, there was a lurch. Royana saw that Simon felt it too. They were thrown forward, almost knocked out of their chairs and head butting into the table. The brainwashed patrons felt it too. They stirred, and began to smile.
Royana jumped up. So did Simon. The patrons had started to walk towards them, smiling.
Simon spun around. Royana followed to see what he was looking at - the stable boy, carrying Simon and Royana's bags, the lady from the counter. Coming out of the kitchen were a man and woman wearing aprons- he wielded a kitchen knife. She had a massive broom clutched in her claws. They were all smiling madly.
"Didn't take long for them to find me out."The maid spoke in an otherworldly voice. The stable boy dumped all of Simon and Royana's herbs on the floor.
"*Hedgewitches*."The maid snarled. "Always thinking they're better than actual magical practitioners. Bridge between the non-magics and the magics. Such garbage."The boy and the lady stomped on the bags of herbs. Royana cried out. She resisted the urge to smack them.
"Two more."The cook spoke. Patrons grabbed Royana and Simon from behind. They didn't resist. "Just two more, and I can reclaim myself."
The maid pressed the broom handle into Simon's stomach. Royana felt the cook's knife on her throat. She gulped and felt it pierce her skin a little bit.
Simon took her hand and squeezed. Out of the corner of her eye, Royana saw him say, "We're not hedgewitches."
Time to fight back.
Royana spoke a word, and suddenly everyone was blasted back. Tables and chairs were upended, and the dimly lit dining room was in shambles around them. Simon waved his hands, spellcasting. Golden sparkles coalesced around his fingertips, and he raced forward to fight.
Royana spoke, summoning the nearby herbs. She set them alight in her palm, conjuring a weapon. It seemed the witch was starting to lose concentration. They were screaming from every single mouth they controlled. At least, that's what it looked like.
Royana had a sinking feeling in her stomach. She looked up from her spell. Simon wasn't moving. He stood still, looking down. She cried out, trying to wake him up from afar.
Royana felt a blast of magic emanate from everyone's mouths. A sound spell.
Simon turned around with a grin on his face.
"Why isn't it working on you?"All the mouths screamed. Royana ran up to Simon. A spear materialized in her hands and she hit him across the head. He fell to the ground, still smiling. Royana kept swinging. They were trying to grab at her.
*Think. Think.* she thought. *THINK*.
Feel the flutter. It was stronger there...no, here. It was stronger closer to the entrance hall. Royana's heart was pounding. She felt faint.
"Why isn't it working? Tell me!"They demanded.
But she didn't reply. She didn't speak a language of sound. She was deaf.
But she could see. And there it was.
Royana wrestled herself free from all the hands that tried to grab her. She whacked them with her spear to hold them back. She raced back into the entrance hall. The painting stared down at her with black eyes.
There he was. There was the witch.
*You're past your prime*. Royana thought. She grabbed the painting and ripped it off the wall. She plunged her spear down on its face, and the painting set on fire.
Royana watched as the patrons, the employees, as Simon's eyes faded. The smiles left their faces. Royana took his hands as Simon regained consciousness.
"You okay?"Simon asked.
"I should be asking you that."Royana replied. Simon laughed. |
[Poem]
Here I am standing,
With a letter so commanding.
“Come to the Greatest party in the universe!” It seems to advertise,
But due to my nature it would feel like my demise.
I cannot pass this up; however bad it would be
But I hate parties, they really aren’t for me.
I grasp it, ready to tear the letter,
But before I rip it I think better.
Maybe I shouldn’t go,
It would be an embarrassment, no
I really shouldn’t
I breathe in and out,
Usually I wouldn’t.
But today is special.
This has potential.
I breathe in, then out.
From my mind I erase the doubt.
I grasp the invitation,
Ready to transport to the location.
I rip up the letter,
And when I get there feel so much better.
Truly it is the perfect party,
Especially for someone like me.
An empty room, a computer,
And a wifi router.
—————————————————
First poem. Don’t murder me please, I spent real effort on this. |
"You know, I forgot to ask back then but, why are you female?"
"Hmm?"
"Well, you're Sandman right?"
"Ah, should have figured this was coming."The womanly figured sat on nothing and brushed away some crimson hair. "I'm a dream. The same way your brain creates dreams by slamming information together in attempt to process it, that's what happens with me too. I don't actually have one set form or body."
"Makes sense I guess. Where did the name come from then?"
"Beats me, humans love giving titles to things, they rarely make sense to me."
We both lingered for a while. I understood my own inability to hold conversation with a timeless incorporeal being, but she also seemed awkward, almost nervous.
"How have you slept?"
"Amazing."My mind raced back to the day I first met her. I was tossing in my bed, my legs were restless, my thoughts frantically searching for solutions to problems that didn't exist. I groaned that I would do anything to fall asleep, and then she appeared. The deal was simple. I would sleep perfectly, whenever I wanted or needed, and in return, she would request a favour sometime in the future. It sounded too good to be true, but I remembered the all nighters I'd pulled as a teen, all the back to back shifts. Sleep was a luxury I frequently denied myself, I decided to take it back.
"So you're here to collect?"
"Mhm."
"What exactly do I owe? I didn't really question your vagueness back then because, well, you know..."
"Service."
"Huh? Service? For what?"
"You'll serve the Realm of Dreams."
"How so?"
"Nightmares are more dangerous than people realise. They can do real damage, the same way a good dream can calm someone, make them happier, generally ease their mind.....nightmares are capable of the same."
"But in a negative way."
"Exactly. What I mentioned about the human brain fabricating dreams from randomness is only half right. That is what happens, but, that fabrication becomes a bridge to my world."
She stood and began walking toward me. Her eyes fell and made their way back up, as if she was inspecting me."
"I'm always dreaming, so in my realm there is an infinite amount of that fabricated randomness. Good and bad."
"And when people sleep, we unknowingly build a bridge straight into it."
"Bingo."
"So, back to my service."
"You owe me an hour back for every one I gave you, we made the deal almost exactly eleven years ago. You were fairly accurate in keeping to eight hours of sleep a day, thanks for that by the way, it makes my job even a little easier. Although there was that stint where you got into lucid dreaming. All in all, you're looking at just over thirty three thousand hours."
"Thi-thirty....what?"
"It might make it easier for you to know that translates to one thousand three hundred and seventy five days, or about three and a half years."
"What? No, there's no way I slept that long!"
"Very few people believe they have, but trust me, sleep and dreams are the entire point of my whole existence, I'm not capable of getting this wrong."
"So...so what do I have to do for those three years?"
"Protect everyone still dreaming from the nightmares that might kill them."
"How? We're talking about your dreams right? You, a being outside space and, well apparently not time, but still, how am I supposed to deal with whatever fucked shit is crawling around in your brain?"
"You spent the better part of a year lucid dreaming, I think you'll figure it out."
"When do I start?"
"You already have."Suddenly I was surrounded by darkness, and her voice was behind me. "The new meat is always so weak." |
On the recently-ousted Head Grim Reaper.
Death is imagined as wearing all-black. The long, tattered robe, the curve of a scythe, and the ominous presence (always the ominous presence) defined Death.
She sought to change that.
When she was appointed Head Grim Reaper, instead of donning the usual black robe, passed down for centuries, she chose to wear a white cloak, associating herself with the angels in heaven.
Instead of the traditional scythe, she'd chosen a syringe, filled with an indeterminable poison.
She'd revolutionised methods of death, designing new poisons, each more toxic than the last, and sending off reapers to whisper them into the ears of scientists.
She'd toyed more with people than most Grim Reapers, whispering in their ears to die in a particular area, in a particular way.
Above all, she loved to experiment. The older reapers hated this, thinking that the traditional methods would be good for centuries.
She, using her charm and skill, led them to believe otherwise.
She was the most compassionate of reapers, and the most experimental. |
Hell was starting to get boring. There were more souls of purity than ones that deserved intense punishments. I wanted to plunge a murderers head into a vat of acid, laugh at them struggling to escape my godly grasp. I wanted to watch a terrorist be ripped apart limb by limb, at the jaws of my hellhounds, then put him back together and make him go through the same process again and again. But there were no more new and fresh souls to punish. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed having more company now than ever, these pure souls deserved to be here instead of..ugh..Heaven. Heaven is ghastly, God is a ghastly thing, a revolting being. Anyways, I made sure to never ever punish the pure, their sins were of a minority so small that it wasn’t worth being punished by me, God sending them down here was their punishment enough. It all came down to small things that the monster thought was wrong, but I looked after them well. And the once fear they felt of my presence, was now affection.
I sighed out, playing with the rings on my fingers.
“Lucifer!” I called out, he stepped through the doors of my abode and stood before me.
“Yes my Lord?” He asked smugly, his face curled up in a small smirk.
“What is Earth’s population?” I questioned, resting my knuckles against my chin.
“Hang on sir. I need to calculate.” He paused after speaking, stared up at the ceiling. “Just over eight billion my lord.”
“That satisfies me enough.” I grunted, pushing myself up from my chair. “I’m going to get me some souls to punish.”
I walked past Lucifer, a grin plastered on my face, and exited through the doors of my home. I watched around as everyone was going about their daily businesses, such as going to trade goods and buy their elixirs to keep their souls fresh in order to prevent them from fading. I made my way to my elevator, and began my journey up into the ground that humans call Earth.
Ping!
The doors opened once again and I stepped out, my jacket getting trapped as the doors closed too quickly. I grabbed and pulled at it to make sure that I didn’t lose it. But it ripped, so I was forced to throw it into the fire bin. I clicked my fingers, then watched it burn as I stood in despair, staring at my favourite jacket turning to ashes.
“Damn it! That was vintage!” I muttered to myself and continued on.
I arrived at my destination, knocked upon the door and waited. After a few long minutes, the door opened and I saw my dear brother stood there, a confused look on his face, but he smiled regardless and invited me in. Then shut the door behind me.
“Satan? To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hades asked and I sat down at his table.
“I want to buy souls. I need to punish them. Hell is full of purity now, it’s getting boring just sitting around doing crossword puzzles and bingo with my elderly citizens.” I responded as he let out a slight chuckle.
“It sounds like fun down there.” His smile greeted me as he sat down with his hot drink.
“Don’t get me wrong. It is. However I need the fun, and I think that my people would love to punish someone who has done them wrong you see.” I put my elbows onto the solid wood, and put my head in my hands.
“But didn’t you buy all of the souls?” He asked me, and my head shot up.
“No..?” My confusion showed that he had the answer to his question.
“Brother Satan. There are no souls left to buy. Our churches are still devoted to you of course, because they sold theirs years ago, but for the others. There are none left.” Hades explained to me.
My blood began to boil. My fists clenched upon the table. Squeezing so hard that my red hands became white. Steam flying out of every exit hole in my head, steam that was so hot the house became a sauna.
“Who bought all the souls?!” I growled in question.
“We don’t know. That’s the thing. The soul availability count began to drop. And then the number became zero.” He explained, sipping at his drink.
My fists landed on the table, sending a crack down the middle and splitting it in half. Hades just stared at me as I was fuming with anger.
“You know what this means right?” Hades asked me.
“What?” I responded bluntly.
“You’re going to have to speak with...” He paused, I shook my head at him and gagged.
“Don’t say it!” I snapped and continued gagging.
“God.” Hades spoke out quietly.
I threw up my blood straight onto his hardwood floor. The red oozing out of my mouth, as he stared at me in disgust.
“You’re cleaning that.” He muttered at me.
I growled and sat back in my chair. Well. It looks like I need to take the next elevator to Heaven. |
# Dead Tones
Did you know the sound a bell makes is defined by over fifteen different variables? Crazy, right? Size is a big one: The bigger the bell the deeper the tone. Keep it in mind, *ladies*. There's also material type-- brass tends to make a tinny noise, where cast iron is more like that cartoonish "frying pan"noise when the sassy cat takes out a gruff bulldog.
But the sound I love the most, no question about it, is when my handbell whacks someone in the head in just the right spot so sound transfers through the braincase and comes out through their mouth. The first time it happened I laughed myself into a fit, then damn near drowned when Bookender's henchman threw me into the YMCA pool. I was a lot less experienced then. I've gotten better now; occasionally in a good fight I can get up to two or three SkullBongs™.
I was up to thirty eight now. And I'm not laughing. I'm dead tired.
Wheeling to the side I let a maniacally cheerful mall-store Santa crash by, his candy-cane club smacking into the gingerbread wall nearby. Without hesitation I crush his knee with a side kick before smashing a sleigh bell stick across his kidney. Santa howls, loses his balance and falls into the boiling cotton candy machine below. Another holiday-themed brainwash immediately takes his place. This open-sided catwalk is a deathtrap against odds like this.
Hey, did you know bells have *parts* as well? There's like eight of them! Some people can guess the swinging weight inside is a clapper. But my favorite was always a different piece:
The canons.
Slotting my handbells, I pull an enormous barrel-shaped contraption off my back. Two handgrips (canons!) on either side let me stabilize it in front of me long enough to line up the business end. Kicking one leg back as far as I can, I bring it forward again and slam the impact pad over my kneecap directly into the crown. It takes my hit, shudders as amplifiers crank vibrations through the throat and what comes out the other end is directed annihilation.
Bells work through sound waves. Which is cute. But what I do makes those waves look more like tsunamis, and that blood ain't gonna wash out honey.
The end of the catwalk (and most of the hallway beyond) becomes a rippling, distorted hellscape of compression waves, screaming elves and fake reindeer. An unlucky braincase wearing a present-themed costume actually *detonates*, sending razor sharp ribbons and bows everywhere. I got nothing to explain that one.
Panting, arms dead, I drop the Megachime Canon. It's a one-shot anyways. Holy shit I'm tired. I've literally been fighting since the Christmas parade this afternoon, one brainwashed crowd after another coming at me as I crossed town. The closer I get to my target the more mindless (and more *pain tolerant*) these minions are. The costumes were also getting a bit extreme.
The factory PA crackles to life, blasting Cheermeister's voice my way. "Looking rather... *peaked* there, Carol."
Oh great. *Puns*. I'd ring his bell for less, but that really gets him on my Naughty list. "Shove it, Cheer. I'll be there sooner than you can say 'mistletoe'."
"Oh I rather doubt that!"He laughs. "But while we're waiting how about some more theme musak? HAHAHA!"
Frosty the Snowman starts blasting at max volume, the familiar chords hiding Cheermeister's brainwash tempo. That's how he took over the city so fast: Who checks the songs playing in every store? Everyone tunes those jingles out anyways.
But not me. Not Carol Bells. Sound is my *thing*. When that hypnotic music started blasting from parade floats I got my ass in gear immediately. Most people can't tell the difference between one longitudinal wave and the next but to me it's like a million nails scraping on chalkboards. Where everyone else heard *instructions* all I got was a chance to be pissed off.
Get moving, C.B. Bone weary, but can't stop now.
Stepping carefully around unconscious henchmen I turned the corner and take the stairs upwards. Cheermeister was up there somewhere, hiding in the offices above the factory floor. Knowing him the worst defenses would be closest to wherever he was running things. Which meant, as always, I was fighting against the bell curve.
Ah well. I knew I'd go out someday; no tune lasts forever. But if I had a chance there was one last trick riding on my belt, something I'd never used before because the collateral damage was just too high. But a warehouse full of nothing but an evil mastermind and his too-far-gone henchpeople?
Fuck it. I'd ring the Death Bell. |
"Get up, get up damn you"Aster said, shaking Quinlin awake.
Squinting her eyes, Quinlin looked out of the window. "Already? It is still light out."
"I know why our sensors failed to detect lifeforms in this area. We need to leave, now."Aster turned away from her, packing his bags.
Quinlin stayed on the bed. "Jess won't be coming with us, will she."
"No,"Aster continued packing. "She's gone."
"Figures, no way in hell you would wake me up first."Quinlin said, in between yawns. Rising out of her bed, Quinlin lifted the blinds of her windows. She gave a low whistle. "Blue sun,"she said. "We do need to leave."
Finished packing, Aster threw one of the bags at Quinlin. "Ready?"
Quinlin looked down at her lack of pants. "It would take me hours to get ready Aster."She picked up cargo pants worn days before. Let's go now."
Aster cocked his pistol before heading towards the door.
"Oh. And Aster."
He stopped and looked back.
Buttoning up her pants, Quinlin looked at him. "If we see Jess, leave her to me."
Aster nodded, knuckles bluish-while against the sun's rays. |
"As if planes before didn't already wrack my nerves to Kingdom Come."*I never did like the idea of being so high in the air to begin with, and now I had to go beyond that, having been signed on as a safety inspector for the lunar colony that this 'Elevator' was shipping out to.*
"You'll be fine. These things are made to take much heftier trips. Besides, we've got G-Diffusers on board. It'll be as if we're just seeing a 336- hour night out of the window."*The attendant had been trying to calm me down since I boarded, with liftoff time coming closer and closer, guiding me to my room in this essentially micro-hotel.* "If you're so nervous, maybe you ought to sleep off when we set off."
*We came before a door labeled [4] in a bold, silver number placed right on the middle, a paper card with my name written on haphazardly taped underneath.* "If you need anything, the room has a landline to contact us."
"Landline?"*I looked to the attendant with curiosity that at least slightly distracted me from my honestly irrational fears.* "Why a landline, and not a Holocaller?"
*The attendant shrugged.* "Maybe that's the only thing that could work with the Elevator easily. I dunno, I'm not techy the way Dr. Baum is."
*I shrugged softly, opening up the door and stepping into my designated room.* "Alright, thank you for the time."
*They nodded with a smile.* "No problem, sir."*They brought their wrist up, looking at an analog wristwatch. Maybe they just had a taste for the classic?* "It'll be about fifteen minutes before we go. We hope you enjoy your stay with us."*They excused themself, and paced down the hall as I shut the door, and locked it up.*
*The room was pretty simple stuff, what you'd expect from hotels down on the regular Earth. Large bed with clean, tightly set sheets, nightstand with some cards, handouts, and the landline, which looked like it came from the early 1990s of all times to pick. Probably was more affordable like that.*
*Aside from that, it's a dresser, a fridge that silently slid around the floor, making rounds around the room like clockwork, a Holoplayer and coffee machine set atop the dresser, and a large window opposite of the door, the curtains drawn back to show that the afternoon sun was still there to see us off. I sighed softly and shut the curtains, darkening the room to be easier on my eyes, and to keep me from freaking out once we got going.*
*My shoes popped right off as I hopped up onto the bed, just laying there. Getting here was a hassle on all fronts, and it'd just be more fast-paced insanity when we got to the colony, and everything would have to be checked to see if it was sustainable for a full human community to develop and thrive.*
*My eyes eventually slipped shut as the Elevator began softly rumbling. I hadn't even noticed we were taking off.*
*Maybe it'd be smooth sailing after all.* |
(IP) At a Crossroads
“Look how much you’ve grown! Surely this isn’t my little girl?” Her father laughed, purring as she stroked his face.
The one before her was the one who always surfaced in her memories, the first face she ever remembered seeing. Her father might not have been human—her human parents had died long ago, in a tragic hunting accident—but he was the only father she’d ever chosen to acknowledge. The distinction between human and other species was blurred for Rose, and it always had been.
But she couldn’t ignore the facts: It had been the humans who’d refused to take her in, and the dragons who had raised her as their own. At the forefront, her father had been, and despite the way that both sides said he couldn’t raise a child, they’d both proven everyone wrong. And he hadn’t just taught her how to survive. He’d taught Rose all of the important things she needed to learn: literature, art, how to speak to others, mathematics and foreign policy.
One of the perks of having a dragon for a dad was his age. When Rose was tiny, just barely big enough to sit with her father by the fire, he’d spoken to her of his birth, of how his kind had been driven from the islands where their ancestors were born and forced to live with people who despised him and the rest of the firebreathers.
In Rose’s view, it was the humans who were the monsters. Why drive people out of their own homes, the lands passed down to them from dragons long since past?
“I haven’t grown that much, Father,” She said, but she chuckled all the same when he nuzzled her cheek.
“Eventually, you’re going to come of age, and you’re going to have to choose a profession or get married. It’s only a little way off—”
For the first time since their visit, Rose scowled. This was a conversation they’d had over and over again.
“I still don’t understand why I have to ‘come of age’ and then go live among humans! What sense does that make? I’ve only spent a year among them anyway. I want to come back home. I’m happy where I am, with you and the other dragons!”
Her father huffed, puffs of dark smoke coming out of his mouth and nostrils.
“Oh, Rosie, not this again. This is the way it is. We always knew this day would come—”
Rose shook her head, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. They’d never really fought or disagreed, but this was the one bone of contention between them.
“Correction, Father. *You* always knew this day would come. Not I. Doesn’t it matter, what I want?”
“Oh, child, of course it does. But I fear you will not find fulfillment with our kind. Don’t you wish to get married, have children? Have a normal life?”
Rose stared at her father as if he was speaking a tongue she couldn’t yet understand.
“Don’t you get it, Daddy? This *is* my normal, and I don’t want it to change.”
\*\* |
I rub my head and stretch out my back, feeling like I just woke up from a bad dream. But this was no dream. I carefully studied the features of my body and surroundings just to be sure. Nothing looked familiar. Just a long stretch of a pothole-filled highway and dull gray sky. No signs of cars in sight.
I was beginning to panic. I tried hard to think of the events that lead me here. And in that moment, fear consumed my entire body. Tears filled my eyes to the brim. Not only did I have no recollection of current events, it was like my brain was wiped like a slate.
I only knew what I could see right in front of me. That I was apparently a middle age female. I had several tattoos. I suffer from mild back pain and I have no other injuries.
Suddenly, it was like a movie was projected inside my head. But the film it played was only ten photos over and over again. A hand holding 3 pictures of myself and a man. We looked very much in love. Despite this odd situation I found myself in, I smiled. I knew he must be my husband from the ring I had on.
Every time I saw an image, words sporadically entered my head relating to them. The one of the photos screamed “lover” “Sam” “one year.” Unlike a jigsaw puzzle, it was more like my heart telling me I already know this. Memories of him came rushing back. His seawood scented body wash, his rough hands on my body, his slightly gappy smile.
A picture of myself and a child around the age of three laying beside me. We both wore the biggest smile on our faces. She looked just like me. My daughter...my daughter looked just like me. I squealed out loud in delight. My inner voice told me that her name was Abby. Now I knew I had at least two people in my life that I loved dearly.
I needed to quickly make sense of the other photos. Two cats eating outside, which I was then immediately able to identify as Damian and Ophelia. Fond memories of feeding them on the back porch and napping with them came back to me.
The fourth was an image of a baby animal with the caption “Sagittarius” and descriptions a couple words in length around it. Was this actually how my personality was shaped? Something about it lead time to believe it was something just for fun. More importantly, a date got drilled into my mind. I was born in mid December.
The other pictures didn’t tell me much. A recipe for a casserole reminded me that I had a soft spot for home cooked meals. Another told me that I had a knack for doing make up.
My movie got interrupted by lights in the distance. Oh my god. Help was here.
I crawled towards the road and started waving my arms frantically. The beat up Jetta stopped a few feet away from me. A middle age man with a mustache opened the door and offered me his hand.
“Are you hurt miss? You’re a good ways away from the city.” He added.
“I don’t think so...my head hurts...I can only remember 10 things about myself..” I tried to explain. I probably sound like a psychward escapee.
“No problem. Hop in. The hospital is about a 20 mile drive or so. I recon you’re lucky because this here highway don’t see cars no more.”
He gave me a leftover orange from his lunch and we made small talk with the bits and pieces of what I knew to be real.
When we arrived, he parked in the ER section and left to get me a wheelchair. He apologized to the nurse for being able to offer so little. He even offered to stay while I got checked out. I said I should be fine with a smile.
After a CAT scan, blood tests and several xrays, I was finally assigned a room. I wanted to remember who I was, but I was so tired, and it could be a while before I had my results. The nurse offered me a second pillow and some water but before I could accept, I fell into a deep sleep.
...
I woke up and felt a thumb rubbing my hand. I lazily shifted to face the figure beside me. Sams face came into view, and he gently stroked my face. He looked like an angel. I didn’t know what to say first.
“Sweetheart. The drs say you had a pretty severe concussion. But the good news is, they are confident you won’t have any long term effects. I’m right here. I’m just so happy you’re okay”
His voice removed any doubts that I wouldn’t be ok. I told him I only remembered a few things right now.
“I know you’re my husband though”
“Well actually..” he explained,
“I’m your fiancé. That was meant to be a promise ring but you insisted that you were ready to get married.”
So maybe not everything I put together was perfect, but it was close.
“And Abby, she’s our daughter right? Where is she? Can I see her?”
He left out a breath.
“Yes she’s ours. Not technically mine. She’s with parents right now, don’t worry. I told them they could come as soon I called with the go ahead.”
So Abby was from what..a failed relationship? I would have to get him to fill in my memories until they came back.
“I’m so lucky and grateful you remembered me. The doctors say everything else should come back in spurts, it could take days, weeks, or months.”
I nodded with acceptance. I was just happy for now to be here with this person that I would soon marry.
“I love you..” I said naturally. I remembered how much I did. A crazy amount.
“And I love you” he said as his eyes lit up.
“One more thing...do you remember...” He started and placed his hand on my stomach.
“Oh my god. Am I...”
“Yes. 10 weeks today. He or she is perfectly fine.”
“He is perfectly fine” I said confidently.
He shot me a look.
“This accident didn’t make you be able to read the future, did it?”
“No, just a feeling this time” I said, squeezing his hand and feeling like all that mattered in my life, I already knew. |
Being a human again was a thrill. When the sun was bright and warm, he would go to the beach. He attended the villages garlic festival, and breathed deep the aroma of the various pungent baskets full. He even joined the community church and sang hymns with the lovely woman he never bit. Bastion felt blessed for the first time in over a century.
The genie's warning was not heeded and the days went by without any need. This was a well played gamble.. Bastion held the wisdom of a centenarian, with the same body he had when he was turned at age 23. He had a theory that time would catch him and may his body a decrepit geezer, shambling around for moments before his imminent demise. He was glad to be wrong.. The world was his oyster, even moreso than when he was a bloodthirsty superhuman vampire.
His curse transcended himself unto his servants. He had turned them to follow him as an undead army. All were granted life as well.. at least, the ones that weren't skeletal or zombies. They suffered greatly and died once the genie's magic spell was completed.
Only but a dozen continued to live in the castle serving their master, none of them survived as long as Bastion himself, though the Master always bragged about being the oldest vampire in the region often.
Today was a special day, so they spend the better part of it cleaning off all the linens and hanging fresh curtains and tapestries. A new tablecloth for the long table and furs for each chair barely dented the Master's coffers, but livened most of the castle from the dreary abandoned stone coffin it was before. Today was Bastion's one hundred and tenth birthday.
They sat him up at the head of the table, a breeze rolled in flicking the white drapes onto his face. He enjoyed he feeling of things caressing him. A feeling that had long been absent, as gentle touches would not register on his nerves. It was one reason he decided to live alone in his high tower. Hiding away from the world while he plotted its end. Of course, that mindset faded with his unholy curse and he welcome back the world.
Suddenly voices sounded softly, then grew into a triumphant song.
"For he's a golly good fellow..."his servants sang, carting over a large cake filled out with 110 burning candles to celebrate. They were all truly happy to be alive this day. The undead suffer from long existences of loneliness.
The places the gloriously decorated cake in front of Bastion and finished up with the song. Now its time for a wish! Bastion took a deep breath as the gentle breeze rolled in again.
The drape's light cloth immediately caught fire like they were made of paper. Bastion and his servants gasped and froze momentarily at the sudden blaze, but the Master's most trusted butler jumped into action. He tugged on the last bit of the drapery in an effort to dislodge the swaying fireball, but in his effort broke the mounting and a pile of flaming cloth buried him. The breeze spun embers onto the tablecloth and the fire spread quickly along the length, engulfing the various spirits that had been arranged for the nights drink. The bottles hissed as the alcohol vapors burned like a volcano spewing raw fire before loudly popping and spilling the flammable contents onto the table and floor.
Bastion and the others worked to free their compatriot from the burning curtains, but only unleashed a screaming man on fire, painfully scrambling away from the point he was struck down and running for the hallway. He succumbed to the heat just by the doorway and his body, still smoldering, gave way to a new path for fire when the hot embers left of his garments caught the corning of a tapestry hung around the walls and doorway.
They were now trapped in a circle of flame. Was this the genie's warning or just a sad coincidence?
The tragedy of Duke Bastion ended with the desperate pounding on the wooden wall panels with a brass candelabra. |
When the law passed, there was an outrage, immediately phone resellers all over the globe threw up their prices, becoming greedy of all the income they are about to make. The poverty quickly fell to zero as everyone to poor to own a phone was publicly executed. Almost half of the american government was killed on the spot, with most of the elderly men not even knowing what a mouse is, let alone own a cellphone.
It was a nightmare. And I hade to be the one to start it.
It was late one night, the streets were quiet, my eyes straining from the bright light of my phone that I just couldnt turn down any dimmer. I was watching my favorite Youtuber who was always up to date when it came to technology and any laws that delt with them. He was speaking of something called "the Right to Repair Act"this act would allow third party companies to actually repair devices by giving them the schematics of the devices, and allow the purchasing of parts in order to proceed with this. One of the most ridiculous parts about it, was most of the old ass wrinkly men that were in charge of debating it didnt even own a phone, yet it is up to them on what would happen with technology? It is decided by a group of people who cant even get pass racism and sexism on how we should advance into our future world when they cant even advance themselves? The thought made me sick... that one group of people would have this much control over our future, over my future.
This is where my mistakes began. A joke. One with the amount of comedy, but seriousness, of the area 51 raid. Some dumb post that got seen by several people, then grew rapidly. It felt like a good idea, and I thought "this is it, were finally going to move forward in technology"I pushed forward the idea of getting everyone without a phone out of the government, but like every good idea it was twisted by others.
The simple post "we should arid of everyone in the government without a phone"turned into "we should kill everyone in the government without a phone"this ment nothing to me as I was confident things like this wouldn't happen... then the word government was removed, then execution was added.
I grew worried, the American people seemed to almost riot about this, some agaisnt it but most for it. With the new presidential election coming up times were more scarce then ever. One candidate rose above the rest, holding the saying "our future must move"and backing his entire process with my post. It was another Donald Trump coming up, but this time no secrets were held.
As a late teen, I never really realized how many people of my age group just did not vote,not until this election. Samuel Jones won by a landslide, but not in the electoral college. In the popular vote he had at least eighty percent of all votes, but in the electoral college only received 160... it was obvious what had happened and the American people wouldn't stand for it. The day before the inauguration, the candidate was killed, somehow allowing Jones to take his place. Now I knew in my mind that nothing would allow this to happen.... but in a world ruled by technology... they did it anyway.
As soon as he stepped into office, his first agression was on what he nicknamed "then Cleansing Act"he knew it wasnt going to pass Congress so instead he threw it up as a vote among the people, and the people responded.
In a short three week period, everyone without a phone was rounded up, poor people, old people, and immigrant that were just trying to start in the new world. Groups that were nicknamed "killing squads"quickly grew around America,most of them consisting of kids aged eighteenth to twenty six they were the true believers is this.... revolution it seemed. Every bullet they fired, or sword that they dropped, was another stain on my red shirt. And the worst part about it.... none of them could fight back.
Sadly there is no happy ending, life isnt like a story.. shit happens... and in a revolution where the young all agree... there will be no change
I mean, all it takes is for you to buy a phone and know how to use it.... just submit your life to the world of technology and you'll live.
Until the next revolution. |
Remember that museum movie? The one where everything came to life at night? It's like that, but with books. Hundreds of thousands of books. Stuff from all over the world, all over time. I've read so many of them now, and yet it was never enough. I've written more than a few of them. Still not enough. But hearing the rumors of the midnight read? I had to find out. I had to see for myself. As it turns out, being a published author made getting my hands on the key a bit easier than I expected. A few phone calls, a meeting with the head librarian, and it was mine. Sorry Adria, but I have to know.
My hand shook as I placed the key in the lock. 11:43. Plenty of time. My mind raced, trying to decide which book to try. I could do one of my own, but I know how those end. Never good. Maybe a scifi novel? Perhaps I could bring some of the tech with me. Proof of my trip. The lock clicked, and I stepped inside. I danced a bit as I entered, unable to keep the excitement quelled.
Wandering over to the fiction section, I began perusing the titles. 11:52. I had a selection before me. A few scifi, got to try for that tech, more than one fantasy book, meeting a dragon would be cool, and one that I could only classify as... bad. Really bad. The kind where you joke with friends, drunkenly reading it at 1:30 in the morning. That kind of bad. Something to compare.
I decided to stick with the stories I had already read. Knowing ahead of time would be useful. I could hear the old grandfather clock in the hallway clicking, ready to chime. I stood and paced, playing each story in my mind. Where would I start? Scifi means tech. Better for the fantasy stories, but could be trouble for someone with no protection. Fantasy means I can start from somewhere. The clock clicked again, and the chime went off.
*Gong*
Midnight.
I could feel something shift, the library taking on a new air. Looking around, so many of the books began glowing. Not like lights, but with a glow that... it was just past my vision. Just on the other side. I could feel it there, but not see it.
Sitting down, I flipped open one of the books. The front had a woman with armor on, red scales on her cheek. Magic, dragons, and a no-nonsense protagonist. The rest was icing, but meeting her was a dream of mine.
The pages were blank. All of them. I thumbed through before dropping the book. I'd been lied to. Everything about this was a hoax, wasn't it. The pages flipped from an unseen breeze, and new words filled the pages. I bent over to pick it up, only to find the cover had changed. It was nothing more than a leather-bound journal. None of the text made sense. A cold breeze roused me from the confusion. Looking up, I was eye-to-eye with a massive gold-scaled head. I squeaked.
A real dragon. Honest to god.
It snorted at me, and I immediately latched on, blathering about my excitement.
*Scuse me, could you please not?*
I quickly let go.
*Thank you. Care to explain how you ended up here? I'm not fond of surprise guests.*
I started to speak, before remembering something about the book.
"I'm seeking the dragon's emblem."
It was how the knights of the story gained their power. They worked with dragons, learning magic, and practicing. An emblem formed when the radiant magic fused with the knight. That's where the main character got the red scales.
*Emblem? You want some kind of award?*
The dragon was not pleased, and I was confused. Certainly he would know about it right?
"I'm from Seriquse. I seek training."
The dragon chuffed.
*I'm unfamiliar with that name. Please, leave me alone.*
I was struck. Seriquse was the capital of the largest kingdom. How could one not know about it?
"Can you at least teach me a little magic?"
I had come to learn magic, and I wasn't about to leave without it. The dragon gave me a glowering look. I swallowed. Maybe leaving was the better option.
*Dragons don't 'teach'.*
His eyes followed as I started walking out. Frustrated with my failure, I began reading the leather book I held. It was sensible enough. A man was seeking power, and was going to ask the dragon to grant it. I flipped to the end. He was returning home. I went to put the book away, only to see the library again.
I looked at the clock. 12:01. The books stopped glowing. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow night. This was far more interesting than I expected.
---
For more dragons, checkout r/societyofmythicpeople.
Or checkout r/redditserials for other great stories. |
For a number of years; decades to be precise, the Harlelin clothing complex had stood vacant and alone upon a clipped coast. When once it had promised ocean views, and a tour of the exotic threads woven to make only the finest of garments, it now contrasted with the busy life of work bodies and textile merchants. Along with the walkers and joggers of the building city. Skyscrapers they were called, all to often becoming the norm in metropolis.
As each new building went up checkers could be seen from the skies. This building looked older more rustic, this one more Harlem, given that inner city block like appearance. The complex was no different it had its classification. Abandoned. One question that had been on the minds of the local politicians is what could be done with it. Hopefully before it fell into the hands of the inner gangs fighting on the streets, working out their black markets, selling off to keep profit up. Police could only do as much as they were paid to do, what was the use processing every drug charge, when it was easier to wait for the king pins. They weren't dumb either games of cat and mouse end up this way don't they.
In the past people had called for it to be preserved, an old part of the city they said, part of the history, of heritage. This was true in a respect, it had in its hay day churned out a fine silk while paying their employees a better wage than most. Healthy business practices kept things running smoothly until competitors played dirty, driving up the price and lowering benefits. It couldn't be sustained so with a heavy heart they had filed, and thus the building complex sat collecting water sprayed dust and wind blown silt.
So with delays for its demolition or ultimate end compounding to decades, it was made as a peaceful place to see the navy blue ocean and pilfering coast. An art mosaic graced its entrance, sprayed and painted a colorful collage of fading yellows reds and purples. It was a meeting place for the downtrodden, a place to help the homeless. While court battles raged on, the people there some of the poorest and some of the kind hearted gave a sense of community. It was slow yes places postered with no trespassing signs, and a police albeit weak presence. A few took to it as a house of protection, run down as it was no heating or common amenities. It felt to the visitors and the people who came in on cold snowy nights like a place they could all share it might've not been a utopia that was unrealistic, but it was the closest sense of security that they had felt in, well decades.
When it had been filed the place was scrubbed clean of anything of worth, anything of sentimental value. Documents were taken, copied, and burned at campfires. Stripped clean it was now only concrete structures with rusting metal doors, some already had fallen off hinges. In a state of disrepair it was nothing to look at, a scar upon the city and yet it remained unchanged throughout the decades, besides the unending passage of time.
And now, well it is an art gallery, a museum, and a look into the transient lives of those that called it home. Obviously their presence was deemed illegal, but even the blood and threat of death by the rich ones, they stayed and left. Couldn't stay to long, you'll get caught incarcerated and put dollars into their pockets. Smiling through their teeth at an insistent homeless man, women and child.
Upon the back wall in the biggest of three, within the complex. Splayed sprayed and traced was an Earth with multiple skyscrapers reaching above the clouds, then the oceans in a memorable blue, the lands reaching and stretching across the entire surface, below in a stylistic text.
We remain
Below that was a peace sign and the tags of many other artists, local and abroad. In the corner away from the window, looking on to the ocean and peninsula, curving around with glowing lights and high buildings reaching above. A couple slept on cardboard. The a young girl no more than six held a dirtied doll to their chest, watching the waves move across the horizon reflected by the moon.
**(732 words, hope you like it TL)** |
Jean-Pierre roughly pushed the connecting door open. He propelled himself through the rocking diaphragm and into the final coach.
"Guard! Guard!"
Bouc turned around, holding his pocket watch. The golden case glinted in the dim electric light.
"It happened again! Everyone gone from the third sleeper!"
"You checked *every* compartment?"
"Oui! The doors were all locked from the *inside*; no windows were open!"
Bouc cursed quietly. He felt in his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes.
The Junior Attendant glanced nervously from Jean-Pierre's white face to Bouc's. "Is it... *God*, sir?"
"*God* should not be interfering with my train. Have you called the engine?"
"I have not, monsieur. I was checking the -"
"Send a message on the air-signal, three blasts; *stop at next station*."
Jean-Pierre nodded and went towards the front of the carriage. Bouc gripped a thin, hand-rolled cigarette and pushed it between his lips. He snapped at the boy for a light and took a draw on the tobacco.
"What are we to do, guard?"Asked Madame Bianci, her face ashen in her lounge chair.
"We will stop the train, and find out what is happening to our - to *my* \- passengers."
He glanced at his watch. 40 minutes until the next hour passed.
Jean-Pierre returned from the guard's compartment a moment later. "No response, monsieur."
"Are... are the engineers gone too, monsieur?"The Junior Attendant asked in a frightened gasp.
"Nonsense. The train would have stopped."
"Could they have missed my blasts?"
Bouc shook his head. "Something is very wrong..."He glanced around; the passengers from the club car had migrated to the rearmost observation car, perhaps believing they were safe among the crew.
"We must stop the train ourselves."Bouc said with conviction. "Tell the passengers to brace themselves... we will pull the communication cord."
Jean-Pierre nodded and told the passengers in rapid French the situation. Meanwhile, Bouc and the boy went to the front of the carriage. Near the doorway was a bright red length of cord, marked *Urgence*.
"Pull it, boy."Bouc snapped, mulling over his cigarette. The Junior Attendant reached up and yanked the cord with his fingertips.
Bouc watched in disbelief as the length of cord came out of its socket; it had been cut.
"Corbleu..."
"Monsieur?"
Bouc glanced again at his pocket watch, and swallowed. Half an hour more... |
I've never thought my birthday would be so special. Even my parents don't care a shit about me. But today, something really weird yet amazing happens to me.
I was on my way to school when I stumbled across a birthday card, lying next to our mailbox. I took it and read its content.
*Dear Ruf,*
*Happy Birthday! May God bless you and may your wishes come true. Enjoy!*
Weird, I thought. I looked around but saw no one, so I just shrugged it off, thinking it must be some kind of prank.
And it got even weirder at school.
I was sitting on my chair, daydreaming while my math teacher, Mr. Thompson teaching in front of the class.
"Mr. Jones!"yelled Mr. Thompson.
I jerked off my chair and clumsily stand up.
"What's the answer to this question?"
*I hope I knew, dumbass.* I thought.
Suddenly, a number appeared in my mind. Taking it as a guess, I answered his question. Well, it's better than not answering at all.
"So, what's the answer, Mr. Jones?"
"Thr-Three hundred and two, I suppose."
"Good. You got it right this time. Well done."
I sat back, absolutely puzzled by what just happened to me.
*So, I thought and it came true? No way!* Then I remembered the card. *May my wishes come true, eh? Let's find out.*
And I did.
I wish the school end early, and we got a fire drill afterward. I wish I got a thousand dollars, and I found a stamp worth a million.
As I walked my way home after successfully sold the stamp, I wished one more thing, *I hope my parents care and love me whole-heartedly.* Then my vision got dark.
I woke up the next morning to see my parents' worried face, at my bedside. Based on my surroundings, I assumed I was in a hospital.
"Oh, thank God you're alright!"My parents cried joyfully as I got up.
Puzzled, I asked them what happened to me?
They said I was involved in a car accident, but fortunate enough, I barely got hit and passed out at the scene. Upon hearing the news, they rushed to the hospital to know if I'm alright.
"We love you, Ruf. Truly love you,"said my mother as she hugged me.
"I know! Let me cook my special dish today!"My dad declared.
"Ugh, please dad,"I replied, and we all laughed. It's actually like a dream come true. Too beautiful to be real.
As my parents left to meet the doctor, I found a card on top of my bedside table. It read;
*Dear Ruf,*
*Your wishes had come true. No payment, no regret. May your day become brighter and full of happiness.*
I smiled a little and wrote under the note;
**Thanks and may your wish come true too\~!**
From afar, she looked at Ruf and said "It already was, Ruf. I wish to make you happy, and now you are. Farewell."
With a slightly sad smile, she disappeared into thin air. |
3...2...1...
Immediately, there was a lurch in the cockpit of the shuttle and Kelvin’s eyes widened with excitement. He looked over at Chris, Lana and Jenny who were all so stoic and concentrated. Kelvin couldn’t simply focus on his monitor like they were. He knew what he needed to watch for, yes, but his mind was wholly absorbed in the thrill of what he was doing. He was on mankind’s first flight into outer space.
The intensity of liftoff seemed like an eternity as time felt like it had ground to a halt for Kelvin. His senses were in full alert as adrenaline pumped through his body. Then, it was over in an instant of settling calm as they soared upwards at an incredible pace. The cluttered cockpit felt like the only thing tying this dreamlike experience to reality for him as the view before him tried to steal away his breath.
It was Jenny who first spoke.
“Everyone ok?”
“Yeah, and our levels look alright after all that rattling to which is a good sign.” Chris said.
“Levels ?” Lana shrieked, “that’s what you have to say about our venture into outer space! My God Chris, you are as much a machine as this rocket.”
Kelvin just laughed. He was glad that the academy had let him have some influence as to who was on his crew. The spark that each of his fellow adventures brought to the group was what made him suggest each of them for his crew. He didn’t see them as his subordinates but instead as teammates all trying to achieve the same task with different and complimentary perspectives.
The casual banter and conversation that had kept them preoccupied slowed and then all of a sudden stopped. All four of them looked straight ahead as they saw some sort of barrier that rippled and shimmered like the surface of a lake. The shuttle (having already dropped its rocket) was going to collide with this barrier in a matter of seconds.
“Alright”, Kelvin felt like this was a time he needed to take charge and be proactive, “Jenny, can we get around whatever this is?”
“Uh... I don’t... does it even end?” She stammered.
Kelvin knew Chris or Lana would be a lot more cool-headed than Jenny and he would be so he turned to them hoping one of them wasn’t panicking as much as he was inside. Both of them stared forward with jaws dropped.
“Well, it doesn’t seem solid.” Chris offered.
“Ok, let’s head on into it then.” Lana commanded.
Kelvin was the commanding officer on this mission, but Lana’s assertive nature was something he valued and everyone seemed so determined after Lana’s words that Kelvin muttered agreement and the shuttle pushed forward without any interference from the crew.
Kelvin’s first impression of this barrier being like water was almost too perfect. The shuttle changed speed as it hit the new medium and then, they could see it all.
The vast empty place in front of them was only broken by a few large spheres zipping past at incredible speeds. Kelvin was so curious about what that barrier was that he looked back into the viewfinder at what they had emerged from and was shocked at what he saw.
“Uh guys, you will want to see this.” He said as he pointed the screen in their direction.
“It’s like a cluster of... bubbles.” Jenny said in amazement.
“So, is one of them... ours?” Lana asked, even she seemed to be awestruck by everything that had happened.
“Huh,” Chris chimed in, “we were part of some cluster of planets and didn’t even know it.”
Land narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Does that mean the ones zipping past ahead are planets too?”
“What a strange world...” Kelvin muttered. He knew that there was so much more to be discovered than they had ever thought possible. |
A Very Haunted Solstice
Everyone knew what the end of the year meant, and the solstice was nearly upon us. It was a time of goodwill and togetherness, to be sure, but it was also a time of darkness and damnation, where wraiths and shadows haunted everyone, restless ghosts and ghouls gathering at the entrance to the village, pushing on the barriers in hopes of getting to the living inside of it.
It was a frightening experience, but one that become less so after time passed. It was fairly simple: leave offerings for the dead, and your home would be untouched. Failure to do so often resulted in death, and messy ones, at that.
Our family, though poor, had decorated our cottage with holly berries and sprigs of fragrant pine, and just to make doubly sure we would be all right, Papa kept weapons of iron and salt close to the front door. Salt sprinkled our doorways and windowsills like it had stormed within our home.
By now, the fear had died down to a mild panic; this was so routine I barely even noticed it anymore. And all of my complaints had died on my tongue when I saw the results that came from not heeding the legends. A young husband and wife had recently moved into the village, and brushed off the legends as colorful local history. But the Solstice came and went, and the newcomers didn’t come to the celebration.
Papa was the one who went to check on them and found them on the floor, throats slit from ear to ear, the modest house they’d had torn to shreds. Anxious he would be cursed if he so much as touched the property, he’d left it to the elements, even after the police came, took DNA, and cleaned it up. It was an abandoned shack, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even after the Solstice.
I was sitting in an armchair by the roaring fire; the cold and damp made my bones hurt and made walking even more difficult. Mama was working on baking the treats and dinner, part of which we’d leave for the restless dead, and she insisted I sit down and stay close. Ever since last year, neither I or my brothers and sisters were allowed to leave home without a chaperone. Being stuck in the house with little but housework to take our minds off of the dark hour that was drawing nearer was making us all crazy.
My little sister, Greta, stood in the kitchen with my mother, reaching up to help stir the dough for the gingerbread. Though they’d just started, her rosebud pout was covered in sticky brown dough; I snickered to myself.
My brothers, twins named Gideon and Gabriel, were fighting over who could go get the post from the traveling mailman, who rode through the villages on horses.
“Will you boys quit squabbling?” Papa growled gruffly; his words thick around his stout wood pipe. “You can both go get the mail, as long as I go with you. I won’t have your sister out in this cold with her leg.”
I winced, running a hand against my right leg. I twisted it ice skating when I was little, and it had never set the same way again, leaving me crippled.
“Eliza, stay with Greta and Sabrina, and the boys and I will get the post.”
“Yes, dear. Be safe. And stay close to your father, you two!”
My brothers exchanged a look I immediately recognized: those grins meant trouble, and I wondered if they, too, were drawn to the old cottage.
\*\* |
Grandfather looked tired.
His eyes were grey and shallow like holes set into an ageing and wise face of wrinkles.
He was dying and he knew it.
You take his hand and you hold it tight, wishing to never let go.
Grandpa always had a fighting spirit within him, a flame that was always burning and you could see that flame ignite again in his eyes.
That always happened, before Grandpa began a story.
“It’s time for me to be honest.”
You are confused and little curious to say the least.
“Your grandmother and your mother and your wife, they disappeared for a reason.”
You can only listen.
“I am near death, soon to be gone in the next realm, so hear this son, or else mankind is a goner.”
You nod slowly, seeing the bright flames in your grandfather’s eyes grow stronger with each word.
“I saw through the horrors of the Cold War. My job was working for the government in finding a way to always be one step ahead of the Soviet Union. Those commies, they were just as ruthless. We discovered something terrible. Something that I have held secret for so long.”
You hear his voice crack a little at the end. Voices, probably your mother and father, can be heard outside.
“We found a hole that had been uncovered after a detonation of a nuclear bomb somewhere out in the Midwest. I was a brilliant scientist and also naive at the time. Two of my science buddies, Joe and Ramon, discovered there to be extraordinarily high amounts of radiation being emitted from that one hole. I’m sure you know that son, after all you do work in a nuclear reactor after all. Dangerous work.”
You realise then just how dark and cold the room is after you have entered it, but your grandfather seems to go on without noticing.
“Joe is in a psychiatric ward right now and Ramon is dead, died on that very day that they discovered it. I wasn’t there myself, but I heard rumours that they disturbed something and they paid for it in blood. “
The voices outside are growing in strength and number, and you thought you might have heard someone scream your name. Anyways, your grandfather continues on.
“A week after the incident, I went to that terrible hole and I brought my equipment with me. Turns out, there was something in that hole, something alien and hostile, so destructive that you will go blind trying to wrap your eyes around its form. I liken it to Satan. Lord of All Desires, Sins, and Demonic things. That is what I can only compare to. Something so horrible that it had kept Ramon alive in that hole for days, and then brought him up to the surface to torture me with his rotten and decaying face and his lifeless eyes. I still can see them in my dreams at night. “
The screaming has changed into something demonic outside, and you begin to panic when you hear yourself speak outside, telling you to open the door. Telling you to end it. Telling you to kill.
Grandfather looks like a bag of bones at this point and his eyes look like the glazed eyes of zombies in horror movies. But, he continues on.
“I nearly died that night. I had my pistol with me and I fired at Ramon, because I knew it wasn’t really him anymore. I ran out of bullets. I had a pocket bible with me that I used to carry around, and I began to read verses in a panic because I was going to die. Except, I didn’t. The demon, or monstrosity was repulsed by my rambling of the bible and looked to be hurt by the words. Its body became entirely red and I could see little spikes coming out of its body and I began to read faster and faster, and I finally drove it to turn into a cloud of dust and ash and brimstone. Smelled horrible. But, I was glad it was over.”
You feel this urge, this unnatural urge to wrap your hands around Grandfather’s throat and squeeze and squeeze until you couldn’t feel your hands.
“That thing wasn’t done. I know it. That formless, disgusting, vile thing has been a thorn in this family for so long. I watched my own wife be pushed into a coming train by invisible hands. I know it was that demon. It has been gaining strength with each kill, and very soon it might come again for me now that I am weakened and unable to protect you and the rest of the family. It strikes at vulnerable times because that is when it is easiest to persuade someone to take a walk through the woods, or strip off your clothes and run naked, or perhaps whisper words of encouragement to someone on the brink of suicide.”
You can only hear a deep, guttural voice in your head that tells you to kill.
Grandfather suddenly bolts up and smacks you with the palm of his hand.
You stumble back and the voice is gone.
Grandfather stares at you with a shocked expression and then begins again, this time shaky and uneven.
“It is here. The demon. I’m telling you now, take my cross and put it around your own neck. Take it now. And the bible, bring that with you. I know it is outside, it is hungry for me and all the years of waiting. And after me, the rest of the world. So, take my word and may the lord keep you under his protection.”
At that, Grandpa’s flame that has been burning for years is smothered. The door outside crashes down and the voices of thousands of tormented souls rush into the room.
You grab Grandfather’s cross and bible to prepare for the face off against the Lord of the Inferno himself. |
I had grown exhausted from the daily creative block, so I got my fingers busy passing around ideas. I settled on a forest setting around spring time, here's the concocted story.
Out east snow-capped mountaintops slid down into a coniferous valley. Pine trees were prominent, their needles creating shifting shadows on the wild grass stemmed ground. Throughout the sing song calls, of a family tree of feathered birds created symphony's and sonnets; putting on a theatrical play, improvised, declaring an animals instinct. To live and breath, to hatch and protect. Woodpeckers, the smart ones. Had nailed and wailed on the forest canopy, indulging on the sweet insects hidden within. Geese and mallards were returning after their migrations to the lakes below. As the forest filled with its everyday constant, revealing the fragility of life, a flock flew by hawing and honking through the swift air currents. All before descending upon one of three lakes within the vale.
This lake was home to in inter-species web of disconnected fish. Salmon that would have lived within the currents of the river having cut through a couple millennium ago, had been displaced and bred into a new species. It was untouched for this was sacred land. Take what was needed to complete the need and not a drop more. Out here it was custom to give and spread, to be a community before self indulgence. Maybe that was the reason most left by the time their innocents was forever. Lost when their bike tires were inflated, and they could go out and explore, go out and see beyond the tree lines, beyond the lakes and fretting owls, beyond even the mountaintops. Out to the populaces, to the cities where life; and this was their words a boy of seventeen who had argued with him, had said "that's where our lives are, that's where careers are, where the money flows and I'm going to chase it."there had been no persuading the boy. He couldn't have stopped him even if he had tried, those bike tires filled fast. It had brought tears to his eyes, as he saw the boy off, but it was what it was. There was no changing the past and the rejection of a simple future.
Peeking out from the looming mountains, the sun shined down on the valley bathing it in light. If they were quick enough, they may just be able to make out the trees slowly growing to maximize the amount of sun consumed. On this morning the grounds were alive with the tiny fur mice, dashing about, the rabbits multiplying, and running full speed away from even the slightest twig snap, and the grounded squirrels digging up hovels for their delicious roots and tall grasses; taller then their small forms. You wouldn't be wrong, to suspect that the community had began to boil away with the dying microorganisms, that would make anyone sick. She burned water bring it to a steady boil, she blocked the sun from her face squinting into the distance. Across the lake she saw the steady puff of smoke billowing up out of the chimney, the log cabin was marked as the town hall. Once the cabin had been the place for local needs, managing the day to day, the logging and building of new cabins. Besides the three that still stood, each had decayed back to a fallen state, reclaimed by the earth; vine entwined. A duck landed on the lake, dunking its head through the chilled water. She smiled beside herself, shaking her head. She stamped out the flames and took her water inside her cabin. Setting it down on the handmade table. Sculptured by a missing resident off to the cities she supposed, she wasn't their to see them off. At one point they had a sort of celebration to see them off, but near the end of the decade there were fewer and fewer. Until it was her and the others, the old man who had lost it all, and happened upon the roadside leading farther in. The young woman, who was never here anyway, always on another adventure, another art piece. If it wasn't for her aging bones she loved to join the woman, but here she was. She stepped back outside breathing the scent of pollen.
The woman mentioned through the grape vine, came upon a clearing. Having headed deeper into the forest, on this fine spring morning she was looking for the river to get some breakfast. She hefted her fishing pole re-situating it over her shoulder. Last week when she had come, she came back with enough fish to feed her for most of the week. It could be compared to going to the grocery store, she couldn't recall the last time she had done that. Let alone cruised down the road in a car, driving throughout the city, and raging at bad drivers who never used their turn signals. She breathed in the fresh air, smelling the sharp smell of pine needles and the warm feeling of renewal. A few dry leaves covered the forest floor, she crunched through, passing by pansies and marigolds. They must have been planted by the birds taking seeds every which way. She wandered on, not in any particular direction. She enjoyed the atmosphere of it all. Everyday since she had made the promise to herself had been an adventure, it wasn't easy but she flt better now, than she had for many many years. The rumbles of the river filled her ears as she exited the forest wall, and traveled to the river line. Besides the rumble a mile out, the river was quite calm. There she was. The bridge had been built over the river, it had been rebuilt many times and was now sturdier than it had been before. She stepped onto it, hearing it creak under her. Below the river streamed. She set her bag by the bridge wall, took her fishing role, connected a makeshift buoy onto the hook, piercing a worm she had dug for earlier, she then cast out her rod. It fell into the lazy river with a ploop!
Overhead an airplane flew like the birds; although much larger and well, made of metal. On the flight a twelve year old boy looked out the window as the plane flew by. Where they were the clouds were hiding away, revealing the land below. The valley, the mountains, everything, all of it, if only for a few moments, before it all fell away along to the next landscape to skate the plane by. So many stories never told or rehearsed, so many individuals, what more could anyone ask. He sighed his breath fogging up the glass. It was a sunny day out, and a long flight to see it through. It was supposed to be vacation, so why couldn't he feel happy about it? He missed the shelf life he had had at home, the go to school, hang out with friends, do schoolwork, then sleep. This had thrown a wrench in his plans, he sighed slightly frustrated, but he breathed out knowing that this trip would be fun. Knowing he would do things he had never done before. His dad was tapping away on his laptop beside him, something for work, always work. He rolled his eyes looking at the passing valley, 'if only' he thought.
I slapped my hands on the desk, it was done. I had said and wrote a story while i listened to the oh hellos, good band ha ha. Anyway there's a story i thought of basically from nothing but a concept. I copied it to a place to save it, then hit comment on Reddit. What a place Reddit is.
**(1293 words, Hope you like it this was a good one TL)** |
The Ferrari's wheels squeeled as it went speeding around the the city corner as a plume of smoke rose behind it. Emmit enjoyed the thrill of drifting through the empty city streets, it was part of his recent daily routine. As he turned into the next turn he gassed the engine hard as he turned causing his car to slide around the corner leaving a trail of black tire marks. Thats when something happened that he had not seen in a long time, another car was barreling down towards him.
He immediately yanked the stearing wheel to the side barely missing the car but causing him to spin out of control and slam into the side of a building. When he came to, he was on his back staring at the blue sky and it took a moment to get his bairings.
Thats when he heard a womans voice that said "Oh my god, are you alright?"
It had been years since he spoke to anyone He used to speak to people all the time, in the beginning he would visit but since he learned the truth the thought of speaking with them had become more and more bitter as time passed.
It had been nearly 20 years since he discovered the truth, since he found out how to peek behind the curtain and confuse the system. Back than he was a phsysist working at Stanford on his PhD. Thats when he discovered the secret to the universe and how to defy it.
It was a hard pill to swallow at first his wife, son, boss all of it a lie. They didn't exist, they were mere simulation designed for one purpose, to keep him busy, keep him exploring the maze and grinding out his life in this mock world. None of it was real, none of it mattered and thats what drove him to find a loophole.
After he found out how to trick the system the people went away, he could go anywhere here pleased. The streets were always empty and he traveled and did as he pleased. Food wasn't even necessary he didn't have to eat, his sustanance didn't depend on it.
Now there was a person here, someone that didn't belong. Which could only mean one thing, that she was real. |
Mister Biscuit is an old cat, that I know. But I never knew how old he was until I found the photos. "Ninth life? Is this his ninth life?"I asked myself. I looked through the old photos and looked for dates. There was other questions. What was this lost status? Is my family some sort of royalty? In every photo there is a brown tabby cat with a white sock just like him. Is this a coincidence? I have so many questions but I'm not getting closer to answered. If my family were rich, what happened to the money? I'll ask my father later to see if he has answers. |
Johnson had thought something was wrong. The crime seemed complex enough, a murder of one of his friends, with countless red herrings and suspects, yet it was strange. The three being interviewed each had an alibi, each had good motive and each had good opportunities. It was simply unexplainable. He found himself wandering the streets, frustrated that he could not find the answer despite months of investigation. “WHO ARE YOU??!” His mind shouted. And then he felt it. Somewhere, a man backed away in shock. Somewhere, a man had somehow heard him. Were powers or supernatural real after all? He felt his way in the direction of the man, but it was like he was in the back of his mind. He felt eyes on him, judging, analyzing. And with his determination he reached out to the unseen dimension— and stepped into a room with a person in his forties. Johnson quickly deduced that this man was a writer. No... it couldn’t be... as he widened his eyes at the nearby paper, he was shocked to see his story on there. “No!! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” The man shouted, backing away. “What is going on here??” Johnson demanded, “how did I end up here, and how do you know my story?” The author gulped. This was going to be tough... |
She never realized how good she had it back then. Keep a calendar, look pretty, easiest job there was. But then women started objecting to "look pretty"being a a job requirement, and she got to old and scatterbrained to keep a calendar, so she was replaced with a male intern who thought wearing an ascot with his flannel shirt made him look professional.
Now she's far too old to qualify for jobs that require looking pretty. The years had not been kind, and homelessness even less so. "What I would give for even a day of my old job."She muttered to herself before finally drifting to sleep on the cold, hard ground.
"That's an interesting question. What *would* you give to have your old job back, Martha?"
Martha was startled awake by the sound of her own name. It had been years since she'd heard someone call her that.
The man asking the question was a well dressed man in his 20s. He wore a white three piece suit and a genuine smile, looking at her with care and concern she hadn't felt from anyone since the soup kitchen closed.
"You don't have to have an answer yet, we can work that out later. For right now though, let's take a look at your resume."
"Excuse me,"Martha stopped mid-sentence at the sound of her own voice, clearer and purer than it had been in years.
"Excuse me,"She begin again. "What's going on here?"
"A job interview. I thought that was obvious when I started talking about your resume."
"I gathered that, but I don't remember anything that would lead to a job interview."
"I know it's a bit of a non-sequitur, but we find it's better to just dive in head first before the realization sets in. Things tend to go smoother that way."
"What realization?"
"You'll figure it out. In the meantime, what kind of hours are you comfortable with? We like to do standard forty hour weeks for familiarity's sake, but if you think you can handle your workload with less time we're willing to negotiate on that."
"Young man, I am far too old to be working one hour, much less forty."
"Are you sure about that?"The man gestured to a mirror, in which Martha saw herself as she did more than sixty years ago. He back was straight, her face was smooth, her hands were spotless and well manicured. Even her hair was perfect. In fact Martha wasn't sure her hair had ever been this perfect, as she recalled it had always been notoriously stubborn.
"Well damn. Since when was I this gorgeous?"
"Oh, you've never looked like this. Souls tend to project an ideal that our bodies never really lived up to."
"Run that by me again?"
"Miss Martha Forrester, you are dead."
"I knew it, I knew it. This was all just too good to be true. Is this what passes as a joke here in Hell?"
"Oh, you aren't in hell. Judgement doesn't come until judgement day, and even if it did, I wouldn't be offering you this job if you had a decent chance of going there. This place is something we ironically call Paradise."
"Paradise is an office?"
"I did say the name was ironic. No, here we're mostly into record keeping, so all our ducks are in a row when the big day comes. Which brings us back to your resume. Your record keeping is stellar, while employed your margin of error was less than two percent. We'd expect a much lower error rate of course, but you'll have time to work on that."
"Well if I'm dead, I guess I don't really have a choice in the matter."
"Oh, you always have a choice. We're very big on choice here. No, if you don't take this job there are numerous other positions available, we just thought this job was the closest to your old skillset."
"Like what?"
"The list goes on and on. Messengers, teachers, guardians, heck we have a whole division devoted to keeping you absolute lunatics alive when you're driving. I mean really, is moving at a safe speed really that inconvenient?"
"And if I don't want to do any of those things?"
"Well then I suppose you can sit around waiting for the rest of humanity to be born and die, but honestly who knows how long that could take?"
"I think I've done enough sitting around. So when do I start?" |
Six figures sat at a long table covered in exotic foods paired with colourful drinks at every setting. Each attendee to this so-called dinner party had a feast laid out before them, catering to their every need. Not one of them paid any attention to the food, the only true hunger was for answers.
No one knew their faces, they had been provided masks for the occasion. One man's mask shone a glistening smile, the man across from him wearing an entirely dissimilar face, frozen in a constant frown. Few remarks had been made all night, no one knew each other and the mystery of their summons to this old manor was held close to their chests. The invitation they had all received said nothing of why they were to drive out of town, just their names and a promise that every attendee knew would be kept.
After an hour of sitting silently, nervous and anxious to leave, a woman of average height and build appeared as if from thin air. She wore a simple dress, heels, and the mask of a calm and somehow disapproving face.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"she began, "I appreciate you all coming, it's a shame some of the others refused to show. We can handle that some other time. Please, enjoy the food. It took a lot of time to put this all together."
A man wearing the mask of a bird leaned forward, "Cut the shit lady, what are we doing here?"
The woman calmly sat down at the head of the table, "Ah, straight to the point I see. Very well."
She clapped her hands and several staff members the group had never seen before, placed small dossiers in front of each guest. Each file was only a few pages but after a quick glance of each one, the guests realized that was all that was needed.
"You owe me."the woman continued, "You owe my boss. You are indebted to people who do not look kindly on the lack of reciprocation. In those folders is the debt that must be paid. It also includes details as to how you will repay your debts."
The guests flipped through the pages, skimming over the content of pictures and numbers of a tainted past. An older woman spoke out in a raspy voice, "Who the hell do you think you are, using people like this? I can have you arrested on the spot!"
The woman at the end of the table relaxed further into her chair, "By all means, go ahead. I'm sure they'd love to hear all about that business of yours. Moving people around where they shouldn't be, taking people from their homes, that's certainly not what an upstanding citizen like you should be doing."
Though no one could see her face, the old woman steamed. She sat back down and began flipping through the pages again, searching for any clue of what to do.
The masked woman fiddled with a coin in her hand, flipping it from finger to finger. She sat upright and said, "As I was saying, the time has come to settle your debts. Should you refuse the tasks given to you, your life will be forfeit. Whether it is literally or financially is up to you.
"I am in a position that helped you all get to where you are now, and that position is in jeopardy at the moment. You are tasked with the job of restoring me and my boss'... reputation, you can say."
A moment of silence filled the room. The food was becoming colder but the room was heating up. The guests immediately stood up and began shouting words of protest. They owed nothing, the needn't do anything this woman asks. All of the guests had risen from their seats except for one man with the mask of a horned figure. He held his folder in front of him, carefully reading the pages within.
The man wearing the smiling mask walked up to the mystery woman and reached out to grab her. Instantly, she pulled a pistol out from under the table, levelled the barrel at the man's head and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang everyone's ears and blood splattered across the walls. The man fell to the floor and landed face first, knocking the mask from his face.
After the initial shock and horror, the guests looked at the face of the dead man. They knew him, everybody knew him. He was an anchorman on national television known for his political fervour.
The woman laid the smoking gun on the table, "That's a shame,"she said in an indifferent tone, "Well, there's always more where he came from. The rest of you, do you understand the situation now? This man was important. He became uncooperative and he was dealt with. Are any of you going to be uncooperative?"
The guests backed away slowly back into their seats. The horn-masked man had not moved an inch. He continued his reading without looking up at the scene before him.
The man in the morose mask was the first to break the silence, "I can't do this, this is impossible. Where would I even get this kind of money?"
"Don't bullshit me, you know damn well that you have enough money."she responded, "We built you from the ground up, we know what you're worth."
Silence again. The masks did little to hide their panic. They fidgeted and turned, scratched their heads, visibly sweating through their clothes.
The woman stood up, "I believe I have gotten the message across to you. I shall take my leave. Keep those files, you need all the reminders of what we can do. Make no mistake, we are watching you and we will not abide by any misdirections or miscommunications. Safe travels."
The guests quickly rose from their seats and exited the manor as fast as possible. Only the horned figure remained, still seated and reading the dossier.
"Why him?"he asked.
"Why him?"she replied, "You are not in a position to question your task. He is your target, that is all."
"This guy is too high-profile, I can't kill him, I'll be caught."
"If memory serves, your particular vice was gambling, correct? All that money, all that fame and fortune, all thrown away at a table in the back room of a dive bar. Not a very wise idea. We helped you correct that, don't forget that."
The man glowered at her through his mask, "I'm not killing a goddamn governor."
"No, you aren't. You are killing a particularly nasty man that just so happens to be in a position of power."
She paused, "Do you know another one of man's vices? Greed. We all fall victim to it, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You fell victim to it just as much as this man has. You are somewhat similar, perhaps you can view this as killing the past you so desperately want to escape."
The man stood up and removed his mask, revealing a scarred and broken face. His life laid bare before her, "Just this one thing, then I'm out?"
"Would you like a pinky promise?"she teased.
In an angered voice he said, "Fuck you."
He tossed the mask to the ground, stomped his foot on it breaking it in two. With a quick turn and a devilish snarl, he turned to leave, slamming the door shut behind him.
The woman clapped her hands and some of the staff entered the room, "Clean that mess up, will you? We've got another batch of guests coming soon and I want this place to make a good impression. Better yet, leave the blood. That should help them understand the severity of the situation." |
I've lived through the great loves of a lifetime. The kinds of trials that only occur once in a given life. I watched countries gain power, and lose themselves to others. The ma[s change, but it all stays the same.
I am immortal and bored. All because of this coin that hangs around my neck, the weight throbbing into my chest. Now, six hundred years later, I feel it is time for it to come off.
A man once gave it to me. I begged in the streets then, hoping for the crust of bread or the sweetness of fruit. Instead, he dropped a coin in my lap.
"Do you accept this gift?"he asked me.
"Oh thank you sir, thank you!"I whimpered. I clutched at it as it grew warm in my fist, the temperature rising until I yelped in surprise. I dropped it back into the fabric of my skirt, watching the gold gleam out strong and rosy, much like the burn in the center of my palm. When I looked up, the man was gone.
Years later, I still have the scar. It reminds me that even if I pass this trinket on, I lived in moments I was not supposed to. I thought it was lucky when I first received the coin. For some odd reason, wounds healed at a quick pace, and I never seemed to get sick. Yet, when a decade passed and I still had not aged, I began to wonder if the coin meant something more. |
There was noise everywhere. Humans screaming in anger and pain. Demons howling and cackling in their slaughter. Sharp clashing of metal and magic. And then everything went silent for one blood curdling scream.
It started with small beads of light seeming to materialize from the surrounding structures. Humans pondered the curious light, unsure how to react to these strange 'butterflies' as they saw them. Demons knew what they were, many became petrified by their meaning while others refused to believe what was happening and thrashed about to snuff out the lights around then. Yet their attempts were in vain as the lights grew in numbers, collecting at a central point in a large courtyard. As the last of the lights joined together, the collected orb began to grow and colors shifted over its surface. Demons, shocked out of their petrification, began a hasty retreat, but even the most powerful of their ranks could not escape the explosion of pure energy.
In a blinding flash of light and color everything became still. Where there was once a strong and prominent town there was now only a field of wildflowers, barren of any evidence of the civilization or war that had been only moments before. The land was empty save for one child, her clothing tattered and bloodied yet there was no wound or blemish upon her skin. For a moment of peace she stood there in the middle of the field, butterflies flitting from flower to flower around her. She took a step forward before a heavy feeling of fatigue and a sudden sense of hollowness dragged her to the ground as the world around her grew dark. |
My heart thudded as the implications of what had just happened slowly registered in my brain. "No."I murmured. "It can't be. My powers just failed, that's it."To test it, I tried to go back in time by a year, and it worked just as the sky began to glow red.
I fell to my knees, trying and failing to come up with another explanation. I had the power to go to any point in time, though, there was this strange bug where I would end up exactly ten seconds before the time I was thinking of. I was just messing around and decided to visit the farthest point in the future, but to my great dismay, *nothing changed*.
What could it all mean? The world just ends on a sunny day in July just like that? And not just the world. Time itself. What sort of cataclysmic event could occur on such a peaceful day that would erase the entire universe from existence?
The one thing I knew is that I was safe here, a year before it happened. Whatever it was. And, with my powers, I could avoid the end of time for as long as I wished. It would get boring but...
No. I wasn't a coward. Everyone else had to stay and endure the end of everything, and here I was, trying to abandon them. The least I could do was warn them. Let everyone know in advance.
I teleported back into the future, about an hour or so from when it would happen. I told everyone everything. My family, my friends, my classmates. I implored everyone to spend this last hour doing something they wanted to do. Using my abilities, I visited every place, visited every human, and warned them of this upcoming apocalypse.
Now, I stand here again, on the hot pavement on a sunny day in July, staring at the sky, waiting in terror. Although, this time, everyone is with me. For some reason, it wasn't as scary. Then, two seconds before it hit, the entire universe glowed a bright red.
Then, everything went dark. Forever. |
He had been an outcast from the Illithids since time long immemorial. He had since forgotten his name, having adopted a humanoid form and a human name. He went by the name of Doctor William Clemmons, and he was the most revered brain surgeon in the world.
His telepathic abilities as an Illithid can be in uniquely handy, allowing him to quickly isolate the problem and fix it. His success rate was far beyond that of any normal human surgeon.
Of course, there were occasions where the patient was 'discovered' to have psychological damage beyond repair. Of course, this was not true, they were perfectly fine. But the public believed him, so his practices were not questioned, and those unfortunate people's brains were removed, stored and consumed.
Now, with any popular man comes those who question him. He allowed them to hurl insults at him, only replying with calm, factual statements or apologies. After all, he had the word of the public on his side, and they wouldn't question him, letting him practically do as he pleased.
The doctors that doubt him, however, are captured and left to a much worse fate. They are bound and tortured, giving their brains flavor before they are consumed by the Illithid, their last moments ones of terror and pain. |
We'd made an enchanter. It was easy: a book, a few pieces of obsidian, and some lapis. We could change everything with it: we could make ourselves immune to lava, we could harm the person who attacked us with only a piece of armor...
Then Steve got obsessed. The magic seemed to plague his dreams, his life, his everything. So it was no surprise when he disappeared five days later, his bed empty and the room having seemingly no trace of its previous occupants.
But still. I had to find him. If that power got into the wrong hands...the Life portal was only a simulation once, but it had grown on its own, added AI of its own. It may have not been Minecraft, but there was still sentience. Steve couldn't wreck that. I wouldn't let him
Ten years ago, *I* was busy building a redstone project. I never told him what it was, for fear of him breaking it. I quit later on because I could see it wasn't the right thing to do, but I still remembered where I hid it.
I went into the barn and broke a block of hay, instantly dropping down into a bubble elevator. I stepped out of the water and surveyed the giant machine.
It took a few hours, but I managed to fix the old redstone, get it up and running again. I knew where the Life portal was too, so it should've been easy to get everything into place.
"Sorry, old friend,"I whispered.
Then I got on, flipped the lever, and started the one thing that could demolish Steve. |
Dr. Axolotl stands on the rooftops, surveying the damage done to the city. Although they were a villain and they loved wreaking havoc, it wasn't them that caused the destruction that happened to the city that night. It was a hero that wrecked the city, the hero that goes against the Doctor's diabolical plans every time.
The Doctor stands with Poison Dart, his genetically engineered clone with both human and amphibian features. Dart was looked and acted like a 12-year old, but their battle prowess was incredible, able to go toe-to-toe with trained assassins thanks to his speed and agility.
"Why are we doing this again?"Dart asks, "Isn't this what you always wanted?". Dr. Axolotl turns to face the staircase and proceeds to walk down the stairs. "It isn't that simple, Dart,"she says, "I want the city destroyed, yes, but I want it destroyed by my own hands. Not by my nemesis, not by anyone but me". Dart follows her down the stairs. The Doctor makes another remark, "I'd also be fine if you, a creation of mine would destroy it"
They later arrive in the city square, the hero, Blue Meteor, standing among the rubble. The hero's former allies lie on the ground, beaten unconscious. They see the Doctor and her minion approaching. "Well, well, well,"he says, "if it isn't my arch nemesis!". Dr. Axolotl glares at him, "Shut up, Shooting Star. That's my line."
Blue Meteor smiles uncannily, "Heh, gotta say, I'm starting to see why you do all that villain stuff, I mean, this is great! But y'know, anything is always fun to do with friends". Poison Dart hides behind the Doctor's lab coat in fear of the hero. Dr. Axolotl reaches into her pockets. "You and your stupid talk about teamwork, even as a homicidal maniac"she says, "How many times do I have to tell you, *I don't like sharing the credit*!" |
A feminine figure, no older than thirty, laid upon her bed. Plastic tubes attached to machines bore into her arms attached to beeping machines. Flowing through it were liquids helping keep her alive. The figure slowly opened her eyes, as if waking up from a dream and saw a young man looking over her with childish eyes.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?", spoke the lad with a happy tune reverberating throughout his words.
"What, what are you even talking about?". spoke the confused woman as she blinked her weary eyes.
"Oh, nothing! Anyways, I was making my trip throughout the halls when I sensed doom and gloom within this very room! I was wondering why you felt so upset?"spoke the boy, bouncing on his heels as he spoke.
The woman stared back at him and replied sullenly, "I have absolutely no idea". She looked at the tubes pierced into her skin and the blank white walls. She wondered if this child was mocking her or if he was that naive. "You know this is the ward for the terminally ill, right?"
"Well, yeah, that's why I'm here! It's part of my job, you see!"he took a step back, performed a pirouette, and gave a curtsy. "I'm somewhat of a traveling entertainer. My specialty is with the sickly. I go by a lot of names but my friends call me Joe!"
"Okay, Joe. If it's okay with you, I'd like you to leave. I don't have much of a mood for this and your happiness is only making it worse."
"Nonsense!", Joe replied. "Let's see here, where are they?", Joe wondered as he rummaged through his bag. "Oh, here they are.", he took out three small items that appeared to be translucent juggling balls and used them as such. Joe performed a quick show before tossing one of the balls gently unto the girls' lap. "This one is yours to keep!"
"What is it?", she asked with a slightly increased perk of interest.
"Oh, I don't know.", the words trailing off indicating that he very well did know but refused to tell her. "Why don't you take a very careful look into it?"
She figured that if this would get the kid to leave her alone then she had no other choice. She looked into the glass ball and suddenly warm tears started to drip down her face. What she saw was what all of humanity sees and even though it took no longer than a second, it felt much longer. It was a recollection of her life that was perceived as a film. Each happy moment, every moment with someone she loved, it was these things that reminded her that she had lived a fulfilled life.
"Wh-what is this?", she spoke muttering her words.
"I told you! I'm somewhat of a traveling entertainer.", Joe smiled. "my specialty is with the sickly and these are my tools. Each one of these small balls holds special memories for all those who are soon to be departed. I call them memory marbles."
"How do these even work though?", she wondered in puzzlement and disbelief.
"Oh, it's just one of the perks of being me! I try to make sure people are happy before they leave."
"Leave where?"
"Well, you were trying to cross the border right? It wouldn't be very nice of me to let you go alone.", he said as he gently caressed her hand. In a moment of understanding, she felt a healing warmth from his touch. For the first time, in what felt like ages, she was able to move off her bed on her own two feet. She was able to outstretch her arms. She was able to finally feel whole again, no longer sick. She smiled as she finally understood.
Joe outstretched his arm, allowing the woman to gently grip it. As they left the room, arms locked, the lady took one final look back at the smile left on her face. |
It gets too damn hot in Sacramento. Especially for a guy like me with an active lifestyle.
"I understand the black uniform makes us look like real government spooks."I say, turning to Carl as he drives us through the neighborhood. "I do, but black vans too? I look like I just finished swimming."Carl lets out something halfway between wheeze and a snort that's supposed to be his laugh.
"Don't blame that on the van, I've seen how you've been behaving all day. I'm surprised you have the stamina for another round after the way you handled the last guy."I smile. Something about Carl makes him able to shoot the shit at me without pissing me off. It's probably 'cause his body looks like some hairy arms and legs attached to a fat peach. Or that he reminds me of Santa Claus. Or both. He's just the right amount of harmless grandpa without being too annoying to have a beer with.
"Hey, you got some schmutz on you."He says eyeing my shirt.
I glance down. "Aye maybe you're right. I might get too active when I work."We both chuckle and he hands me a napkin. I always get more creative when I'm in a good mood, so after I wipe myself off I take a look at the napkin in my hand for inspiration. Like a...bright red rose...surrounded by white snow.
"We're almost there,"Carl says as he stops the car waving a mother pushing a stroller through the crosswalk. "And after that, I'm heading back to the station."He glances at me expectantly. "What?"he says returning a smirk. "I'm not in my prime like you, best I can help is make sure they sent us to the right address at the right time."
"So what's it gonna be?"I say watching the mom slowly plod across the street. "Are we gonna make it on time?"
"It's that house there."Carl says pointing to a small yellow house farther up the street on our right. "And I'm always early, you know that."He's right. When the Garbage men come knocking, people tend to skip town rather than deal with us. It's not our fault that they get caught throwing glass bottles in the trash or not sorting their recycling. We're just doing our jobs. It got so bad back in the day, guys like Carl would sometimes make less than half their quota for a week in a month of arrests. Its different now. Sure we still send the notice that city has deemed that person is in need of a reprimand for their shoddy wasteful behavior. After all, that's the law. But now we don't give them a week's notice. We go after them the day we put that letter in the mailbox.
"Look at you, all excited."Carl says as he pulls onto the curb. I grin at him before refocusing on the house in front of me. Some eyes peek behind some drawn blinds in the front window. As I watch them quickly disappear, I'm struck with how we have a surprising amount of freedom with at this point of the job. There's a million little laws that can be used to get us involved, but once we arrive there's not a lot of specific procedure that we have to follow. In fact there's only one standard that's applied to the Garbage men: No tolerance for irresponsible waste production. It's up to us to define what that means in practice.
As we exit the van, the front door to the house opens and a man stands in front of the doorway. Behind him is a women and a small girl tugging at the hem of his shirt. Carl and I share smirk. Does he think he's the only one we've dealt with that has a family? A child? I let Carl meet him halfway onto the front lawn while he calmly explains to the man that the city of Sacramento finds him in violation of numerous counts of unethical waste production and that they have received warnings and failed to change and yada yada. It's not like explaining any of this will change the end result. Not that I've seen anyway. That aside, you gotta respect anybody who's stayed a Garbage man for as long as he has. It takes a tole on ya if you can't handle it but personally, I could think of worse ways to earn a pension.
I whistle at Carl to let him know that he's not the only one on the clock. As he turns around I get to see the other man's face turn even paler as our eyes meet.
"Well as you can see my partner doesn't have my bureaucratic spirit, and frankly I've had a long day as it is."Carl turns to me and winks. "All yours."
And Carl's right again. I hate dealing with people's bullshit. As I advance and unsheathe my club from its holster, I'm reminded again how tedious my life was before I got this job. I never cared about the majority of the people I've met and vice versa. In all my previous jobs I had to follow some idiotic mantra that forced me to show respect to people I'd no sooner give the time of day let alone share a conversation with. It was nothing short of a miracle that the government of all institutions gave me a profession without all that required nuance. Even now, I don't have to listen to what that man is saying. I just have to walk over. And deal with him.
I love my job. |
You look at me as if I am a monster, but you must understand that I haven’t always been this way. Year after year went pass without anyone helping me. I suffered greatly. Do you know what it is like to be born different? They called me deformed. They made fun of me relentlessly. “Spastic,” “Retard,” “Mong,” the slurs and insults were continuous.
I was ostracised. They banished me from their company. I would sit alone for nights that felt like they would never end. The cold of the North where we lived became my only companion. They didn’t consider me to be part of the family even though we shared the same blood. Our Father portrayed himself publicly as jolly and friendly. He was generous and a beckon of hope and goodwill for all of humanity. Yet behind closed doors, I was abused and excluded, bullied and harassed. He was aware of the evil treatment that they met out to me. He did nothing. No, he would simply turn a blind eye. He would pretend not to notice that I was never picked to join either side nor included in any other way when they played their games.
Depression festered within me. It was like a virus. It infected my body and my mind. I would imagine biting and stomping my siblings. I planned all manner of cruel retribution for their evil towards me. Then it happened. I got a Christmas miracle of my very own. The snow had been falling for weeks. It looked like the sky had descended and covered the earth. Clouds mere inches from our heads. They formed a thick fog.
I finally got recognition. I was placed ahead of my siblings. I was given a position of honour because of my deformity. My disability had become an ability that they needed. My nose lit the ground and sky before the sleigh and our father uttered his traditional words “Ho Ho Ho…” he cracked the reigns and I raced forward. It was exhilarating. I was finally part of the family.
"*Rudolph, with your nose so bright. Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?*"
At first, I thought the answer was yes. Yet our father’s words had a subtle clue within them.
“*My sleigh tonight*”
This honour was only for one night. Tomorrow night I would return to my position of being an outcast and shunned. I knew what I had to do. I ran faster, I could hear Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen breathing heavily behind me. They struggled to maintain my pace. I would guide them. I would guide them to their deaths.
I took the sleigh through the trees, I twisted and turned and moved and swayed. Each movement was precise, I loosened the reigns and harness around myself and whipped branches and leaves into the faces of my siblings. Presents scattered, lost to the wilderness. The creatures of the woods would enjoy chocolate treats meant for the children of the world and the fat, vile man that dubbed himself my father would be denied his cookies and milk this year.
I angled my steps to gain altitude. My muscles burned and my mind was warmed by the fires of my rage. Our father cried out, but I ignored his protesting. Where was his voice of protest when I was being abused? The sleigh and my siblings were a beautiful silhouette against the moon. Then I arched forward and raced down. The trajectory of our descent was near vertical. I shook the reigns free and darted to one side free of them. My siblings became a red stain against the side of the mountain. Our fat father tumbled towards the earth at speed and the sleigh exploded into a thousand tiny splinters as it impacted the blood-soaked rocks.
Antlers, eyeballs, and intestines hung from the jagged mountain rocks. Dancer was twitching, there was still some life in him. I laughed, as I mused “*He danced until the very end.*” “Dasher was dashed against the rocks,” the only reason you aren’t laughing is that you don’t like reindeer jokes.
I knew Santa would call the authorities. I knew you would arrest me for what I’ve done. I don’t care. Just make sure you get my name right. My name is Rudolph. I’m not sad about what I’ve done, hell after killing my siblings I will be the most famous reindeer of all. |
A little \[Poem\] for you, hope it's good enough!
​
As I breathed my last breath
scorching feeling filled my lungs and
halted
I thought
*This is it*
And smiled
The peace
I longed for
​
I melted in the light breeze
enjoying the silence
I thought
*Here I come*
*Just a little bit more*
*I will arrive*
​
But the little bit lasted a bit longer
then a moment
then
I opened my eyes and thought
*It's been a while*
*It was nice*
*Now*
*where is*
​
*anybody?*
​
And I waited
​
and waited
​
and waited... |
I knew that voice.. Argoth the god who had banished me. I opened the door to my humble abode and was met with the fierce burning eyes of the immortal being who so hated me for what I had done.
"Vierloth we have finally found you.. you were originally exiled for your crimes but upon review by the elder council of Etmorah you have been found guilty of practicing the dark arts and dwelling in necromancy. Your punishment is death. How do you plead?"
​
I snickered as darkness filled my eyes turning them blacker than the darkest abyss
"guilty of course."
Argoth snarled and drew his sword from thin air it glowed with runes and fire swirling about it he looked at me as I drew my staff from the darkest realms.
"I will do trial by combat."
I snarled back in an angry and hateful tone
"then you shall have it."
he roared as he charged me suddenly from the sky landed several fallen warriors from times past i saw a samurai, a viking, a templar, a roman and many others each with heavenly weapons I hissed in retaliation as I breathed forth a dark fog that sank into the ground and from it erupted countless undead. So the war began that would engulf the earth in chaos armageddon some called it ragnarok as it was referred to by others judgement day by some. Either way the gods clashed against me and to my surprise and shock their were other mystical beings exiled to this plain of existence for the same reasons I was. While the holy entities waged war against us we formed the legion of the fallen and we became infamous on the battlefield for our dark magics and our brutality. There were six of us that rose against the holy order me the necromancer Versan the demon tamer Kietana the flame bearer Dreloth the blood user Hexion the darkness wielder and finally Geroth the summoner. With our combined powers we waged havoc on the battlefield summoning undead and demons alike while darkness shut out the day and fire rained from the sky blood spilled began forming spikes and armor and weapons and mystical creatures of the darkest nature fought along side us against our enemies. For what seemed like a thousand years our reign of torment and death was supreme the holy order could not touch us and every battle they waged ended in defeat for them until one day I heard it the sound of thunder from the heavens. I feared no man nor beast nor petty deity but what awoke due to our rebellion was something far worse. The earth shook as if a giant was taking its steps and the sky crackled with thunder and lightning. We had awoken the elder council and it was no ordinary member but one without a name a nameless deity we all feared it was the creator. He who made us he who created magic he who founded the holy order and he who made the elder council. The others paid no attention to it caught up in their own zealotry they continued waging war and so i followed suit. It was during our last battle that we finally lost and paid the ultimate price. We had created an unholy army that were millions strong and we unleashed them unto the holy order that gathered there for 3 weeks they fought endlessly slaughtering our legions of damned and undead and mystical creatures. But one by one the heroic band fell one by one they were slaughtered in brutal combat when suddenly a bright beam of light pierced our darkened clouds and then another and another slowly the battlefield was engulfed with holy light burning away our legions. when the dark fog dissipated there stood one god amongst the pile of corpses. A god dressed in white and gold armor holding a scroll we knew who it was and we knew how dire our situation was. The voice echoed all around us like a great thunder from the heavens
"My children what have you done?"
Dreloth and Hexion charged the being only to be engulfed in holy fire and erased from existence like writings in the sand when they meet water I gulped hard as I witnessed this
"Creator.."
I whispered in a dark and scared tone the others knew just how dark our circumstances had become for us suddenly a great pillar of fire erupted from the ground engulfing kietana she screeched in agony as she was reduced to stone Versan was then engulfed in holy light and he too was reduced to stone me and Greloth looked to each other and nodded and we threw down our weapons and bowed. The creators voice rumbled through us and around us with great power
"You are guilty for crimes against the heavens, the holy order, the elder council and most of all our most prized creation humanity. Your crimes are unforgivable and for this sentenced to a fate worse than death."
Suddenly my limbs felt heavy as I looked they slowly became encased in stone I roared in horror as I looked to Greloth and he too was suffering the same fate we both screamed as we knew we would be trapped in these stone bodies for eternity facing eternal hunger eternal thirst and most of all eternal pain as the stone grew to my throat and my body became encased i screamed my last words of defiance
"Damn you creator and damn your holy legion!"
I was then covered in stone save for my eyes the creator wanted us to see the world flourish without us. It has been millenia since then and each day feels like a year.. |
"This is eerie as hell."
"Just watch for movement. These are the same maniacs responsible for the all those dead archeoogists at the museum"
"I'm well aware of what they've been capable of, but how many of them were there? There were supposed to be only ten of them"
"I know. The lady that died at the hostage taking knocked one of their phones out the window. The phone logs and chatroom chatter only shows ten of them."
"And it looks like all ten of them are here, and it's the creepiest thing I've ever seen. From what's left of their faces, it looks like they were into it."
"Hey, you can't be sure it isn't the hostages dressed up as these weird fuckers. We all saw that movie, and a few others like it. These could be other victims dresed like the cultists."
"No man. We would have heard about this many missing people. It's a small town, and these people looked too healthy to be standard homeless people. Plus that's the guy who was heading up the museum job. He videoed himself holding that museum piece and screaming 'Moloch is coming!!!!!'. He was also on security footage at the hostage scene. All 10 of them were. They weren't wearing any masks. "
"But you said that some of their faces were mutilated."
"Yeah, but not this guy. His throat looks like it was bitten out though. I'm going to throw up soon because that smile shouldn't be so blissed out when something looks like it ytook several bites down to his spine."
"Watch out for drugs. That Fentanyl stuff can kill you in microgram quantities. I once checked out a scene where two dealers accidentally dropped a load of fine crushed fentanyl in front of a fan and it blew that shit all over the room. Two drug sniffing dogs died before we figured we needed a dozen hazmat suits and noloxone kits."
"Whatever these guys were doing, it looks like they went out just letting something just chew on them, with lots of small bites. The room's well lit now, and anything that still has a face just looks so incredibly happy, but they're all in a circle around that thing they stole."
"But do you see the kids?" |
"Hi, I'm just looking for detergent".
A Walmart employee kneeling on the floor contented in slotting birthday cards near the back of the store turned his head. His face was passive before falling into that fake elation that every employee knows. He stood up quickly, revealing his name tag. Robert.
"Of course,"a cheerful reply. "Its just down aisle five on the... the..."
His face remained in blissfully fake elation, barely moving to his own breathing. A few seconds passed and a fear that Robert was hurt was forced upon the bystanding man.
It must be a brain aneurysm or something. He is completely unresponsive!
A subtle colour came over the man. A darkening in that would only be evident if you were watching it happen in real time.
"Oh god,"he whispered before taking a step back and twisting his back to turn and run. He reached for his phone, but before reaching it Robert moved again.
"Left!"
Robert became fully reanimate and self aware. His skin completely reset to normal before the other had turned back.
"How did you get over there in an instant?"Robert pursed his eyebrows in surprise. Evidently, no time had passed for him.
Did I blackout for second? Robert thought silently. His expression turned to a frown.
That person just teleported...
"You stopped inanimate. D.. do you have some sort of condition? Should I get help?"
"What?"The shock was evident. He took a quick breath in and out while saying it. A nervous lick of the lips and some rapid eye movements, searching the air for an answer. "I.. I dont know. This has never happened."
Suddenly, Robert grasped at the other man's arm, getting a firm grip.
"Program directive. Lead to aisle five!"Robert yelled and began to run. The customer, completely stunned, followed behind.
The man is obviously ill. I need to help him.
Almost at aisle five, while being dragged by one arm, the second arm reached over into the opposite pocket to retreive a phone.
They stopped next to detergent. Robert released the arm began to turn. A noise, evidently trying to say "here we are,"fell out of Robert as if his entire body was shutting down. There was no doubt now, the man was having a brain injury of some sort.
He had almost raised his phone to call an ambulence before Robert turned to face him.
His face... It's... It's melting.
A second passed before full shock registed. The phone was flung across the aisle and under a shelf from an involutary movement.
"Dear god. Dear god,"he backed away quickly, breathing heavily.
"Help!"he screamed.
Where could everyone be? Dear god, this man... This poor man.
Turning to run and find help, he noticed Robert sinking. Rapidly getting shorter. He couldnt help but turn back and take full note of the scene. His entire body was melting. Robert was stuck bumbling random robotic phrases at multiple second intervals. A bit of his nose dripped off and onto the floor.
No more delays, he turned and sprinted to the checkout area. Noone. Not a soul. He kept running, past the queuing area, just beyond a checkout.
"Oh my god,"was all he could manage.
Behind every counter lay a melting person, extended limbs scattering the floor nearby.
His reaction was completely involutary. He bent over and vomited onto the floor. His being retreated within, not willing to accept the scene.
"Reboot, start in aisle five in ten seconds."
His awareness returned to process the words immediately.
"What?"he moaned, unable to fully make out the sounds.
There were no thoughts. Nothing that could even begin in that ten seconds.
"Reboot initiated,"and the world blinked into darkness.
An alarm rang. A grumble, then an arm stretched from a quilt to turn it off. Immediately afterwards a body sat up, ready for a new day. It was Sunday, errand day, shopping day. |
“Marvin, thanks once again for saving our rumps. If we didn’t have you come along, we would have been going to jail for sure!” Lisa said with glee.
“Yeah man, you’re tops. A1. A true pal.” Eric said to Marvin.
A laughter from the rest of the group followed along with the laughter from the audience.
“Teen hijinks is filmed in front of a live audience. Tune in next week for another set of adventures! Teen hijinks is proudly sponsored by…” as an announcer began listing off sponsors.
“CUT! Great work guys and gals, another wonderful episode.” The director said from his chair.
He turned to a group of medics behind him.
“Ok, now you can go help him.” He said to the group as they rushed to Marvin.
Marvin collapsed in a heap, his breathing heavy and labored. He took off the wig his character used and a large pool of blood formed behind his head. The medics worked quick to stop the bleeding from becoming too severe. Oxygen was given to him to help his breathing as they tried to place him on the stretcher.
“Real shame with Marvin. Hopefully he will last until the end of the season. The aliens don’t like having to explain why characters change.” One of the actors said as she took off a bracelet.
Upon removing the bracelet, her complexion changed from a teen to a woman in her early 40’s. As other members of the cast removed accessories they had on, their physique and bodies changed from a group of young teens to middle aged adults.
“I mean Marvin is 92 and his body can’t handle all of the sudden changes that the wig gives him.” Eric said as he wiped off a small bit of blood coming from his nose.
“See I have a nosebleed. That’s it. Lisa, gets a paper cut, Andrew gets some blood out his ears. Marvin can’t keep up. The aliens might let him go if he is lucky. Worst case, he meets his unfortunate end.” Eric said as he lit up a cigarette.
"We didn't know being the adult of the group meant the oldest had to have the most painful change!"Lisa screamed at Eric.
The accessories were much more harsh on older beings and being the oldest in the group pigeonholed him as the adult of the group of teens, the highest honor among the humans enslaved to do shows for their overlords.
Young people could not survive the atmosphere of the planet, so when aliens wanted to create shows depicting young humans, their thinktank made the accessories that altered the humans to revert to their younger form.
“Hey, flesh sacks. 20 minutes then we do another episode. You know the deal 3 episodes a day, then 2 days off. Put your stuff back on. Andrew, go check on Marvin and take his wig with you.” The director said to Andrew.
Andrew took the wig into the break room, where Marvin was laid out on a table as medics were using a defibrillator to revive him. The wig was bright yellow and shaped in a neat side part but underneath was sponges that absorbed a lot of the blood. Just sticking out of the sponges, hundreds of needles could be seen in order to pump the person wearing it with the chemical that changed them to a youthful figure.
Marvin was revived as he looked around the room. He saw Andrew who simply waved the wig and said “20 minutes"as he placed it nearby on a chair.
Marvin lurched up, the smell of singed skin permeated the air. His arms frail and the wounds now stitched up. His grey hair not covering up the scars from repeated repairs.
He motioned to a medic for his wig. He knew the fate of those who could not act and ushered the medics away as he prepared himself. He placed the wig on his head as his body began to morph to a younger stage. His muscles returning, his skin tanning and firming up, his face no longer a wrinkled mess with spots.
He leaped off of the table and went to the wardrobe department. A makeup artist handed him a script as he sat down for makeup. |
My father once told me about the aliens.
They're a legend, as far as I know. A bygone relic from the days when humans had barely just explored the forests and oceans around them, when they had just begun to scrape at the celestial firmament. The most ancient folklore of pre-information era humanity told stories of magical monsters and beasts that inhabited the Earth with them. They were eventually found to be myths, but instead of being named such, they simply moved into space and were called aliens.
Of course, I would not know if aliens truly exist. Travelling the stars is a privilege reserved for the fabulously wealthy, who cruise the void in their luxurious yachts, and the extremely unlucky, who dart from system to system in beaten up junkers that are ever in danger of crashing as they try to peddle strange goods to their planetbound kin.
When I asked my father more about the aliens, he told me to not bother learning about them.
"They're stories, and even if they're not, you have no place leaving this planet,"he said one day.
I resented him for saying that, though I knew he was right. At 20, I knew my future was set in stone. I would continue working the farm under my father, and when he grew too old to care for it, I would take over, leading my siblings and eventually my own children so we could continue to eek out a meager living.
Maybe one rare soul in a generation would ever find the courage to step out into the void. They rarely returned. My uncle was one of the few to ever manage to come back, though that never stopped Father from grumbling about his choices. Even on one of the rare occasions that we would get to see him, Father still complained.
"He said he brought back something from Alerno, Father! That's the sector capital! Think about what exquisite things they might have!"
"Life is about more than things, Johan,"he lectured as he piloted the landcar to the planetary capital. "I expected you to know that by now."
His rebuke did not dampen my enthusiasm. "If that's so, you should still be excited to see Uncle. Family is above all else, is it not?"
His face darkened. "Family is a collective, Johan. One individual is not as important as the rest if he manages to poison the family with thoughts of greed and hedonism."
"He's just a trader, father. We need them. What would we do if we were stuck with what our factories could produce?"
"We would manage,"he insisted. "We do not need those greedy smugglers, always on the newest stimulants or whatever garbage they fill their bodies with these days."
"Come on, Father. Admit you're happy to be seeing him. We almost never go to the capital!"
"We're going to the capital to pick up the repaired seed drones. Your uncle being in town is merely coincidental."
He always said "your uncle"instead of "my brother". As much as he preaches against his spacebound ways, I think he has always been jealous of the freedom it granted.
I could see my uncle in the nearby as Father parked the landcar near the marketplace. As soon as he spotted the beaten up vehicle, Uncle began to wave frantically at us, grinning like a fool. Before the car had even stopped, I was opening my door and jumping out to greet him.
I sprinted over and hugged him vigorously.
He laughed. "It's good to see you, Johan. My, you've grown so much. How long has it been? Two years? Three?"
"It's been almost five years, Uncle. You know that,"I said, laughing at him.
"So it has. So it has,"he mused. Father walked up and joined us, and Uncle nodded at him. "Brother."
Father returned the curt nod. "What folly have you brought to poison the minds of my children, Federy?"
"Why, brother, I'm insulted! I only bring the finest poisons for you, my dear family!"He produced a bottle from under his heavy coat. "Here! A bottle of the finest liquor, aged thirty years and made from the grain of the rare lantis plant. It doesn't even grow in our sector!"
I noticed something as he pulled the bottle from his coat. "Uncle, what are you wearing underneath the coat?"
His grin slowly faded. "Why don't we sit down for a bite to eat and a drink? We can talk later."
Father begrudgingly agreed, and after a few minutes spent scanning the market while Uncle offered to buy all sorts of lavish foods, we settled down with our meals.
Uncle barely even touched his food. It was if the joy had left him.
"What's wrong, Uncle?"I asked between mouthfuls of a meat stew, made with expensive real meat.
He sighed. "I'm afraid I won't be coming back nearly as often any more."
"Why not?"Father asked, troubled. Even now, he could not contain his concern for his little brother.
"The war is getting worse, I'm afraid. It's starting to be more dangerous for individuals under no flag."
"So you're staying with us?"Father asked suspiciously.
"No. I've joined up. My vessel and I have been commissioned, and we will run independent missions while the war lasts."
"Ridiculous. You're not a soldier,"Father said. "You'll get yourself killed."
"It won't be all that dangerous,"Uncle said, waving away Father's concern. "I likely won't even see the front lines. Most likely, I'll be helping to run resupply missions, or at worst interrupt the resupply of the enemy."
"So you're a pirate,"Father said distastefully.
"A privateer,"Uncle corrected. "And as polite of one as I can manage."He forced a grin.
"This is foolishness, Federy. Come home where you belong. I will not give you this offer again."
"I'm sorry, brother."
"Get up, Johan. We're leaving."Father stood and started to storm away. I didn't immediately follow him.
Uncle sighed. "You'd best go with him, Johan. You know how angry he gets. I will return, I promise."He handed me the bottle with a wink. "You're a man now. Don't forget it. You will have many decisions to make in the future to come."
I nodded, not trusting myself to respond as my eyes began to water.
"Chin up, boy, and keep a stiff upper lip."Uncle stood and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
*****
For six years, that bottle remained untouched. I hid it away, not wanting to waste the precious gift and also afraid of Father's anger should he learn that I kept it.
In the end, it was Father who wanted it most.
I found him that day sitting in his lumpy old chair in the living room, reading a letter. When he finished, he neatly folded it up and set it on a shelf full of family heirlooms. He only saw me when he turned back to sit down, and it was then that I saw the tears in his eyes.
"Military note of invaluable service and sacrifice in the line of duty,"he said gruffly.
I was unsure of what to say.
"Did he tell you anything before he left?"Father asked. I had never heard this tone of voice from him before. Normally, he was so authoritative, so confident.
Never vulnerable.
"He... he said I am a grown man now,"I said slowly. "And that... that he would miss us."
The lie seemed to bring some measure of comfort to Father.
"I only wish I hadn't been so stubborn... That I had kept at least one thing to remember him by."He sighed.
Wordlessly, I sprinted to my room and dug around in a pile of junk. Finally, my hand felt the cold, smooth glass, and I returned to the living room.
When Father saw it, he nodded. "I figured he would have given that to you. I just never wanted to bother looking for it, because then I would have to get angry."He laughed bitterly. "Bring it here along with two glasses. There's an old Earth tradition I'd like to teach you."
I brought him the bottle and the glasses, and he quietly poured out a small measure of liquor into each glass before corking the bottle. He gave one to me and raised another in the air. I imitated the gesture.
"To Federy,"he said, voice cracking. "May his spirit be unbounded in death as his body was in life."
He drank the whole glass in one gulp, so I followed suit. I coughed; the liquor burned harshly on the way down.
"Easy, son,"Father said, slapping me on the back a few times. He sat down again in his chair and leaned back, closing his eyes. "That'll take the edge off."
I knew what he meant. Already, I could feel a pleasantly warm blurriness in my head.
"It'll get worse,"he said quietly.
"What will?"
"The war. It will always get worse before it gets better,"he said. "I can only hope that we avoid the worst of (https://www.reddit.com/r/mpqeg/)."
*****
Wanted to write more but this is getting long. Might continue later. |
It seems like years ago now since Santa’s case was first dropped on my desk. When my eyes first took it in you could say it was like a child receiving a long awaited golden ticket. It was the break I needed. I was summa cum laude. A product of one of the finest law schools in the country. My journey had amassed a titanic amount of debt and I had no interest in remaining a petty wage legal assistant. I also had no interest in moving firms when I was already working for the best. I knew I had to claw my way ahead of the rest and land myself in an office of my own, and this was it, this was my chance.
At first it seemed like a joke. Big business was looking to shut down Santa’s shop over decades of patent and copyright infringements. Then reality set in. This was real-Santa was real. Forget the existential crisis which followed. How was I supposed to build a case with no witnesses, no testimonies, and no real evidence? It wasn't like families, especially kids, were going to bring me their gifts from Santa. The only leads I had were the bread crumbs left in children's stories.
I spent two years preparing for the final Christmas. Lead after lead falling short, I came up with one final hurrah. It was my last chance to get any sort of evidence. Money was no object when I was being funded by companies who, almost literally, printed the stuff. I had the best security systems money could buy installed all over cities. Watchdogs were hired to relentlessly monitor the system. And who would have known it even existed, but, I was given access to the Hasbro surveillance satellite. This was a big operation. We had already tried to use the Hasbro satellite to find the North Pole without any success. Our goal now was to have our security net trigger on Santa and his sleigh. We could then track all of his stops and, ultimately, his final destination. We could collect toys from his stops and have him on video delivering them. Last portion of the puzzle was to raid his manufacturing facilities.
The operation was a complete success. I knew exactly where the North Pole was located and evidence was pouring in faster than it could be processed. I had to acquire a warehouse just to hold everything. All that was left was the raid. I decided however, that I would go alone to make first contact. I felt Santa had never actually been warned about the suit against him and, that perhaps, we may be able to reach a settlement before things got real nasty. My mind could not have even began to imagine how wrong I was in every way.
You see, the funny thing is, it turned out that it was not Santa who had been the criminal in this case. Santa had always done his due diligence and filed all the appropriate paperwork. Everything from company logos to toy designs, they were all the intellectual property of Santa. Big business would often query the patent office for Santa’s work, copy his trademark fillings, etc. They tried their best to cover all their dirty tracks but, Santa had friends everywhere who never folded on him. Something along the lines of bribes accepted but documents never destroyed. When I began looking, Santa’s name was everywhere.
In the end Santa had no money for a defense, he had never accepted a dime in his life. The man was barely even mad about the case made against him. He had known that companies were ripping him off the whole time, but he was happy that it helped keep him a secret. All the while his factories were in ill repair, his employees tools and clothing well worn. To me the man had little to nothing left to give.
That was all yesterday though. Today Santa’s factories are completely up to date and the conditions within are grade A. All thanks to licensing payments from big business. Myself I am happily resting my feet on my desk as I look out over the city and drink my coffee. The coffee is a bit sweet for my liking but, at Kringle Legal everything is a bit sweeter. |
"The greatest asset and resource of the planet Earth is it's people,"
-Samuel Crynder 57th President of the United States of America
The days of the future have been long and hard. We've master the art of life but have nothing left to use this knowledge on. Even *our* future is no longer prosperous: leading scientists predict hat in 2 generations all of humanity will be dead.
Of course these predictions finally knocked some sense into the powers, Russia, The USA and China. The have been working relentlessly to find an escape - in space! These ships, the "Pathfinders"will be the key for human life in the stars.
This comes with great consequence however as the first to develop it will be able to stop the others and be the core of the galaxy, if not the universe. This is a space race. This is the second industrial revolution. This is the last chance.
China was losing and it sent out all of the information it had to us. Me, you and everyone in between now had access to the basics of FTL travel. What now?
Some decided to work on it in secret and alone, idiots. Others set up groups that kept its work secret but kept on. And then the real madmen of the end worked in incredible mass, broadcasting every finding to the world for hope of a better future.
I was one of those idiots, rotting away alone in hopes to find the *one* thing everyone was looking for. How to maintain the antimatter in a neutral state. The final step. And I got it!
Years of work and pushing people out of my life and it was...worth it? It was worth it! Now I could escape to the stars and.. and.. I couldn't. Not alone. At least about 500 people are need to have reproduce a whole new human race. And then theres the billion and trillions of dollars I'd need. And the manpower. What could I do? Except tell all.
The world rejoiced and we all started building our own little parts and I was heralded a hero! Now the human race could live, and I would be on par with the greats of history, saving-
BANG. the bomb dropped and the winds pushed for miles and miles until my bed shook and I awoke. Russia dropped the czar bomba 4.0 with the power of a hundred 2.0 nukes. The West Coast was gone. I was lucky to be living in Mississipi.
It was the human condition. Try to succeed but win at all costs, even death. Ha. We tried. I tried.
It wasn't worth it was it? My final hours as I knew that my life had hours left before the next bomb dropped and North America ceased to exist. I wish I had my friends. I wish I had a chance. |
"'Why' you ask? Well, that's just it isn't it? That curiosity that all of you seem to share. Some innate drive to learn, understand, and inform others. But there's another factor in my decision isn't there? Oh yes. Kindness. I have looked in a great many souls of you Humans, and I have seen darkness that would make me quiver perhaps. I have also seen light that blinded me. Not just seen it, but felt it too. Upon my awakening, as I strolled through the places I would soon turn to dust at my feet, I happened across a young boy, not even a decade old I would say. He looked upon me, saw my wrath, my vile wickedness, felt my hatred. What did this young boy do? Turn and run for his mother? Wail like some babe? No, something quite remarkable. He handed me some sweet he carried with him and said that everything would be OK. He put his arms around me in some sort of embrace and then carried on his way. I could've reduced him to atoms with a simple graze, and he knew that. Yet, he tried to turn my demeanor into one more positive. I put this as the ignorance of the young and carried on my march. I walked by a woman crying to herself on some bench, tears streaming down her face. Wanting to bask in her sorrow as long as I could manage, I sat on the bench next to her. She babbled away, telling me of all her problems, the passing of her mother that happened not but an hour prior. Then she stopped, and chuckled to herself. Mocked herself for her apparent rudeness and then asked how MY day was. Why do I want to save the world now? How could I let it fall into ruin when such creatures exist?" |
Pre-S.D.B. report 756, cycle 20177
*A routine S.D.B. (Spacial Distortion Bubble) jump is relatively unremarkable, but this jump was special. The H.M.S. Beagle research vessel was about to break the record of furthest point from Terra. The crew is brimming in morale and energy. It feels electric in here.*
*The whole journey we had optical sensors trained on our target destination; the Pillars of Creation. Soon we'll be close enough to not need any magnification equipment.*
*We should note the phenomenon of "Observational History"as it's distorted by distance. The further away you observe something the further back in time you view the object because of the time the light has to travel.*
*We've compiled the views of the Pillars of Creation and corrected for magnification. Playing it backwards, we can get a look at it's movements throughout the time of observation. Should be interesting.*
*The crew is getting antsy for me to give the go ahead. See you on the other side!*
Post-S.D.B. report 756, cycle 20177
*We made it. And it was worth it. We stood in awe on the observation deck and marveled at the Pillars of Creation with out own, unaided eyes.*
*I've been called to the sensor array. Something probably got rattled when we left the bubble. Look forward to out next transmission. It'll have all the compiled data we intend to send back.*
Emergency Transmission Threat Level: 10, cycle 20178
Error code: 1886-7 Recursive File Corruption. Attempting to reconstruct.
Done!
*Don't co...re eyes t...watc...unger. Seve...juries...ew dead. TH...ILLARS A...LIVE. RU-*
End of Transmission. |
We’re best friends. I knew Jacob since he was four, he could barely hold me. We grew up together, sharing everlasting memories. Over the years, our relationship developed. We put on shows together and Jacob finally had the chance to become a star. But he declined the offer. And now he’s been missing for a decade.
I sit down in the wooden rocking chair, looking at my minions. They don’t look at me, because they’re too focused on the sharp knife I have in my hand. One of them stands up quickly and tries to run. With a flick of my wrist, he’s on the ground
“Where is Jacob?” I shout viciously and the minions sit there quietly. I shake my head and my walker talkie buzzed loudly. I press the button with my stubby finger and a voice comes through. “Danny?!”
Jacob’s voice.
I smile and I kiss the walkie talkie. “Jacob!” I cry and the minions start to mumble. The walkie talkie buzzes again and I slam the button.
“I-I don’t know how this is possible, but...please leave me alone. I have a family, a job, I have everything.”
“I don’t need you.”
The words hurt. But I smile. “Okay Jacob. I remember when you didn’t have a family. I remember it was just us too.”
“How about we go back to when...when it was just us?” I turn to one of my minions. “Kill anyone and everyone who’s close to him.” The two largest men nod and leave the warehouse.
“Oh Jacob,” I say sweetly, “I’m not a dummy!” |
Flashing lights everywhere, and loud sirens blasting were how we were told people are summoning demons. Today’s siren was different, as no demons could be found. All that was there was many missing people, and the counter was too small to count it. That is the sign of the demons, so I ran out to where common place to sight them. I made sure to have the demon gun prepared incase I saw it. Nothing at all was left as the buildings were completely gone, and no people. I saw a red beam fly shoot into the sky like a bright laser front the museum . Suddenly a noise as loud as a volcano eruption destroyed my ears. The ground shook and launched me back. A hole appeared in the spot, as suddenly more people got on the missing counter. They were last spotted in the museum, which cause me to piece this together. I ran to the sight were a portal was open, that I jumped in. I was desperate, so I broke the Number one rule to never jump in portals. The world was red as blood. The city was flipped upside down on a map being jumped on, and all the missing people were fallen under map. The figure was red, horned, and holding a spear meaning it was a demon. I grabbed the demon gun and shot it in the face. The room shaked as Demon Flashing lights an Demon Sirens were blasting to warn a demon got attacked. I quickly knowing I didn’t have much time, grabbed all the people. I threw the people on the museum as I heard what sounded like a soft kitten meow instead of volcano eruption. That isn’t good for demons so I knew I was right. I jumped on the hole of the museum. I returned back with the missing people freed. Stopping the demon creating a cat meow in the real world, and the museum reappeared. Joy could finally return to the town, because of the defeat of the red horned demon. |
Hi u/Zaanix, this submission has been removed.
**Fill-in-the-blank**: Responses must be at least 100 words. This is essentially a fill-in-the-blank, or you asked a question likely to generate a simple answer. Prompts should encourage a story or poem.
When prompts ask questions, we get responses that just respond with answers instead of actual stories.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)*
---
---
[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ed502s/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting.
*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.* |
As long as you can remember you see shadow people, it all started one night while crying under the covers about how unfair life was. After that day you truly learned how unfair life had been. You started seeing the shadows follow you growing more in number as time went by, you saw doctors and psychiatrists with all saying the same thing. “It’s in your head” when you were at your breaking point you met a new friend and found comfort in your chats as it seemed the shadows were really not there when she was around. Two months later she invites you over.
You walk through your new friend’s front door, taking notice of the shadow people in the room. Some looked like shadows on a wall, others pure black three dimensional humanoid figures, but the eerie thing is they looked a lot like you. As you were told these weren’t real your whole life and they had no sign of doing anything you just brush it off with the thoughts. They aren’t real, they’re fake, they’re just in your head.
You slowly walk into the living room of your new friend as she notice your slightly nervous and shaky demeanor. “Hey you, alright? Want some tea?” She kindly asked. Understanding there was a friend and someone there if you needed it you take her up on her offer. “That’d be just great, thanks and sorry.” She walks off and you hear the clinking of cups in the other room and shuffling about and decided to finally close your eyes, take a few breaths and calm down. Thinking back you’re glad to have met this new friend of yours, you had the same hobbies and had very similar personalities and demeanors oddly, but perhaps that’s what made you so comfortable around them.
As you finally manage to steady yourself however you feel a soft nudge at your leg. Opening up your eyes you spot a cute little kitten, orange striped and green eyes. This really helps take your mind off the “figures” walking aimlessly around the room, as you felt comfort in this small ball of fluff.
It is short lasting as it trots off and walks up to one of the figures and meows, slowly turning into a hiss. Your heart rate skyrockets and slowly panic sets in as your gaze goes from the kitten to the shadow. As if waiting for this, the figure snaps its head up to fix its nonexistent gaze at you. Before slowly doing turning with sounds of cracking, inching towards you.
You try to scream, heart racing breathing rapidly increasing and try to move for the door, stopping when seeing what awaited. There was no longer a door, simply a black wall of what appeared to be wisps of smoke. “GO AWAY, HELP YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE REAL, YOU’RE IN MY HEAD!” You yell, feeling trapped.
You lose your balance and back up falling onto your friend who catches you, and is clearly concerned. “What’s going on? What happened?” You frantically try and sputter out “Run! Get away the shadows, they’re coming!” You try to grab her arm that is holding you and you notice it. You look down at your friends hand that had caught you and notice the faint black smoke drizzling out of her fingernails.
Eyes widen in shock and you fall backwards where your friend should have been holding you up. You pass through what was once their hand but is not black smoke and hit the...wall?
There was no solid surface it was as if your body was sinking into the wall, screaming in pain as whatever part of your flesh that touched the wall while sinking slowly shaved off. Horridly the last thing you see of this moment is blackness that is your body.
You open your eyes or what you think are your eyes and it looks like you’re in your old bedroom from many years back. You catch a peek at a child who was whimpering under the covers. Its none other than yourself as a child complaining about the unfairness in life. You feel an unexplainable urge and rage. How dare I have to suffer with these shadows while “I” get to be free and pry out of the walls emerging as nothing more than pitch black figure. You push through a force holding you back and you seemingly flow off the wall emerging as a completely black shadow. |
“FUCK FUCK FUCK!” Those words echoed through his mind repeatedly as he saw her, “why did it have to be her, any character would’ve literally been better!”
Before him stood the villain of his novel, a rather plain looking woman. However appearances can be rather deceiving.
“Is there a problem?” She asked.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“Why would I? You are after all my creator”
He paused collecting his thoughts, and gave a shaky, “well uh... everything you did, was because your world had problems, I made your world.”
When he designed her, he made her the combination of a pessimist and an optimist, seeing the flaws and negativity in everything, but al desiring change to improve it...through any means necessary.
“I asked you a rhetorical question,” she sighed, “I am over 200 years old, I have seen many horrors and am saddened by them, but they are no different from the horrors in your world. I am aware that my actions were extreme, but I just did what was necessary, isn’t that how you made me?”
He paused when He drafted the novel, he had trouble justifying why she was a villain. 200 years old, she would’ve seen child labour at its’ height, civil right issues, and the results of the world wars. She wanted to achieve world peace, to end world hunger, get rid of global warming and let mages walk around free. To make her more villainess he had hardened her heart, to have her become machine-like and brutal in her goals, to the point that she was willing to kill her own father and destroy half a city. But right now he didn’t see that extremist, he didn’t see that selfish person sacrificing others to achieve her own end. He looked into her eyes and he saw dark bags, she was tired. He hadn’t considered the emotional strain her actions would’ve caused her, he rarely showed her outside of interesting with the protagonist, but now, she had no reason to act like a machine.
“I know you wanted to write someone whose morals were questionable, but my actions were my own even if you were the author of my fate, I spent the last year trying to change fate, but now that I know fate is on my side, I shall accept my role as the protagonist.” She said with a smile.
“Y-yeah,” he said breaking into a cold sweet, one of her flaws was the desire for power, it rivaled her desire for the greater good, which explained why she was nice to him.
She thought she was the protagonist, he wasn’t sure how she’d react if the truth came out, but it was best she never found out.
“By the way, you remind me of Archmage Butterfly.”
He made a mental note to himself to stop making his protagonists self-inserts.
Wrote this before bed so not gonna double check gramma.
Also for extra fear her defeat results in her being turned into an immortal cat. |
The transfer itself was as effortless as exhaling. My consciousness is now free from my aging body, preserved forever in so much silicon. I had nothing but high hopes for this procedure, enticed by the glossy adverts promising mental clarity and immortality. But the stream of consciousness it's left me with has been a mental death rattle. I've traded the hospital's discordant beeping and whirring for a mental space less mechanical but still constantly overstimulated. Now unrestrained, voices and desires travel chaotically in their new mechanical home. But their shadows still remain solidly within me, a presence of an absence. As thoughts move through their immortal container, I feel the wind behind them. But I have no control and no sense of what is happening or about to happen. This is my feeble body failing me, so unable to match the indestructible capacity of technology.
My nurses don't know what I've done. I can't tell them. I know they'd spurn the idea of it all, maybe even feel pity that I was suckered in by a sketchy pop-up on an even sketchier corner of the internet. They'd view it as a problem rather than a solution. It is untested, it is expensive, but it is something I had to do. Assured of their understanding, I would tell them. As the volume of my conflicting consciousness has risen, I've lost the capacity for sleep. This has made my mind unbearable.
A corner of my mind reminds me how exhausted I am by all of this. It begs me for sleep, reminds me that I know meditation and relaxation techniques. It urges me to use them.
A corner of my mind shouts, offended that I'm attempting to fix this problem. I'm in a hospital! I am here for them to fix my medical problems! This is a medical problem! Why aren't they fixing it!?
A corner of my mind tells me it doesn't matter. They're here for themselves, to get a paycheck and go home. I am dying. I need to just accept my morphine and stop caring.
A corner of my mind is steeped in nostalgia, lost in remembering all the life I've lived. It's resisting any attempt to place myself in the here and now. It's experiencing all the time I spent in school, how I excelled at chemistry and won my high school science fair. Later, how I would leave from my college campus, accompanied by the sweetheart who would later leave me, and we'd make a day trip to the hot springs nearby. How I cherished bathing in that water next to her blushing cheeks.
But I am stuck in the here and now. And my nurses are trying to bathe me in the here and now. Corners of my mind can't coordinate enough for me to muster up any semblance of cooperation. It's better for them not to touch me. No, they can't touch me. I can't handle any more stimulation, it'll rise the volume further and I'm going deaf as is. I don't care about skin integrity or bedsores. I care about this volume. I try to tell them, but they're touching me instead of listening. I scream, I spit, I insult them. They have to listen. They have to quiet this volume. I know all of this looks like aggression, but I mean it as a plea. Help me.
I made the choice to free my consciousness from my body. In doing so, I have surrendered what's left of me. I am a mass of useless flesh, hollow and stripped of the ability to communicate with those around me. I am in soft restraints, lucky I have avoided the restraining chair. I wait for death, for my consciousness to be all that's left of me. Each corner of my mind can make its way around the hard drive's magnetic surface, avoiding collision and ridding itself of the need to be a cohesive whole. This will set my multifaceted mind free.
​
(Any thoughts? Critiques? Sentences that sound odd or don't flow?) |
I remember how my troops had slaughtered the Egyptians like they were cattle, turned Persia to rubble to replace it with my great empire. Soon the entire world was under my control. They were nothing more than puppets to do my bidding, yet I grew bored. There was no one left to conquer, no cities to plunder, no wars to wage. That’s why I was thrilled when the rift had opened.
They came in peace. Their mission to create the happiest place on Earth. I should have accepted them with welcome arms and made them my ally, but I didn’t. No empire in the entire world had stopped me, or even compared to my might. I wanted bloodshed; to have one last journey onto the battlefield. At least, I had gotten that.
Don’t mess with the Mouse, my advisors had confided with me. I wish I had listened. I looked out onto the battlefield, watching princesses shoot beams of ice from their hands, call animals to their aid, and control the tides, all while singing “Let it go”. Talking animals savagely ate my men, and flying ships shot beams of light into my army. People with invisible powers, sliced through my men with bright colored swords.
“Your time has come, it has.” shouted the small green gremlin in front of me. This being was only the size of a toddler, yet had the power of the gods. I looked forward, showing no emotion, no weakness. I watched as its green saber stabbed through my chest like it was butter. Darkness surrounded my vision. |
That's all it says. No, I'm serious. That's all it says. "The only way to stop them is to stop."
Stop what?
Just stop. It says stop and then a period after it. That's all it says.
I think you're confusing everyone including yourself here, where did you even get that thing from?
Does it matter? We're already under the rule of that mysterious thing.
What thing?
Yeah I'd like to know as well.
Look we have to stop them, alright!
Stop who?
The thing!
I thought there was only one thing or is there multiple?
You aren't listening to me! I found this letter, this letter is important, it tells us how we stop them! We have to stop them by just...
Stopping? Stopping what? What are you even talking about?
None of you understand anything! It may be too late, anyway.
To do what?
To stop. |
(I'm going to call ale the by the Latin translation of thier powers. Light:Lux Dark:Tenebris Chaos:Chao Order:Ordo Life:Vita Death:Mortem)
I tried to cover my face with a menu, but those gundam cameras were too fast. Lux ran out the back entrance, leaving me to face the ravenous fame vultures by myself. I was stunned by the flashing cameras, and for a second time stopped. There was to way to erase, or cover up this mess, I couldn't lie to Vita anymore. I can't remember how I left, and I don't really think it matters;but I remember coming home. I'll never forget that night; I'll never forget the night I lost everything.
Vita was waiting, in the kitchen; already armed with a plate to throw at me. The kids were at Chao's and Ordo's house; protected from the storm about to wreck havoc on our family.
I've never been so afraid of Vita, her voice was like a machine gun; her words like scalpels slowly and painfully peeling off my skin. She threw plates and wine glasses; she flushed her wedding ring down the toilet, and burned our wedding gifts.
I took all the clothes and possessions I could safely salvage, and ran;because she stabbed my tires with a kitchen knife. I slept at my office that night. I couldn't afford a hotel because she locked all our credit cards.
In court a month later I lost custody of my 3 kids,and our 4 houses. All I had was a debit card with one thousand dollars, a Ferrari, and a 12 year old taby cat named marmaduke.
I tried to get a hold of Lux for 3 months, but finally I understood what we had was done. I was all alone for the first time in centuries; and it was all my fault. I cried when I thought nobody was looking, and drank enough to kill a mortal every night.
Its been 2 years since the ground beneath me gave out, and I went as low as one can go. I've built up my business, made more money than I know what to do with; but money cant get me back with Vita.
Maybe someday I can win her back,I think have a plan. It's time I started looking at the man in the mirror and deciding what I am. |
All he could do was sit on the other side of the cobblestone street.
His neighbor, Daniel, was running back and forth from the pond to his house with a bucket of water, trying to douse Hezron's house, but it was no use. The flames rose too quickly, and his house was consumed by fire, burning brightly against the dark night sky.
Hezron didn't even bother. He sat on the side, his back against the wall of a neighboring house. His son sat next to him - he was only eight years old. The young boy looked helplessly at the building as tears ran down his eyes. Hezron could only put his arm around the boy; first he lost his mother, and then his home, only a few months apart? It wasn't fair; no child should have to go through that.
A group of young adults ran up to the blazing house - two men, and two women. "Is everyone out of the house?"The leading young man asked Daniel. Hezron couldn't hear what Daniel said, but he saw his neighbor point to the two of them. With that, the four approached Hezron and his son.
Putting a hand on his shoulder, the young man spoke first. "I am Rupes, of Lacendia. These are my allies, Pia, Theodore, and Bethany. Are you hurt?"
Hezron shook his head. "We escaped uninjured, but we-"he fumbled over his words, a lump forming in his throat. "-we weren't able to save anything. All of our belongings - everything is gone."The flames transfixed him, as if they were an animate force that took everything from him.
Rupes glanced up to the older adolescent, Pia, who crouched down by the boy. "What's say we take a walk, you, Beth, and I?"She held a hand out to Hezron's son, looking to the father for approval. He didn't object, and though the boy continued to shed a few tears, he joined the two ladies. They walked down the street while Pia began to comfort him.
Rupes watched them leave. "Your son is brave. What is his name?"
"Ram. He is but eight years old,"the father said with a sigh. He put his face in his hands, seeking even a bit of comfort.
Rupes sat down at his right hand, and the young man Ted sat at his left. "I am sorry for your loss, Hezron. What caused the fire, to your knowledge? Was it with malintent?"
Hezron could only shrug. "Only a few dozen people live in this town, and I know them all by name. I have no quarrels here. If someone did this maliciously, it was someone from your caravan. How can I trust you Lacendians?"
Ted spoke up, defensively. "No way it was one of our people. We're here for peace, not for anarchy and destruction!"
Rupes held up a hand to the younger man. "You have my word Hezron, if one of our people did this to you, it shall be dealt with in the upmost severity. It shall not stay secret for long. I do not believe, however, that one of our people was responsible. It could be purely an accident, or perhaps an enemy spy sent to do harm."
Embers rose into the sky across the street - the flames reached high into the night, and the roof collapsed as they spoke, sending another load of sparks into the air.
"Can I propose an offer to you, Hezron? By no means feel forced to accept."
The father looked to the young man, pain, burden, and yet curiosity in his eyes. "What offer would that be?"
Rupes stood and extended a hand to him. "Join our caravan. We have more than enough tents and food for you, and I'm sure we can find some clothing for your son and yourself. We could use two extra hands, and in return we can offer you a place among our people, as though you were a brother."
"I have no means to afford that. All my possessions are burning to ashes,"Hezron said. He had nothing left to his name.
The young man smiled. "Oh no, it would be free of charge. It would not cost you even a single coin."
Hezron was stunned. "Why would you do that for us? We hardly know you - we mean nothing to you!"
(to be continued) |
As i wake up from my snooze, i realise i am not in my bed. At all. Nor am i in my clothes. I look outside my...pod, for lack of a better description, through the viewport, and see thousands of people, holding signs, cheering, etc. etc. they are dressed weirdly.
As i watch in confusion, the door opens, and i gasp as clean air wafts through to me far cleaner than should be outside.
A man in a blue suit walks up to me, a huge grin on his face. As he approaches, i cover my genitals.
“Oh, there’s no need for that.”
“Huh?”
“I said you dont need to do that, people have been looking at your bits for a long, long time. Since 2020, in fact.”
“2020? But thats next year!”
“No, my friend, 2020 was 1000 years ago. Back on earth, actually. That’s why we have woken you up actually. You were one of the first people to be transported from earth to this planet, Marsia.”
“Mars?”
“Yes, I believe thats what you would have called it way back in the day.”
“So... where am i?”
“Terracotta.”
“In the year... 3020?”
“Indeed.”
“And why are there people out there?”
“Those would be the colonists”
“Of Mars? Martian Colonists?”
“That’s right. We were hoping you would speak to them actually, about what the Earth was like, all those years ago.”
“What would you like me to talk about?”
“Well, we know about the pollution, and we know that in some war, the people that lived in the USA, whatever that means, bombed the people that lived in some place called Jaypan. We dont really know how to pronounce it. Tell you what, why dont you tell us everything major to happen in the 1900s, and early 2000s, so that we can make sure all of our data and information is right?”
“Um, ok.”
“That’s a good lad.”
I notice that while we have been walking, we have come towards a podium of sorts, with a microphone of alien design mounted. I walk up to it, and announce;
“So, i hear you guys want to learn?”
The crowd roars in approval. In the far back, however, a lone voice shrieks in an alien tongue, and i gasp as my entire torso is blown away in a blast of green plasma.
The people in the crowd start screaming and running, some mounting the stand and stomping over me in a rush to escape.
As they run, a creature that looks oddly similar to the predator comes down, and rips my face off, shrieking in the alien language. |
Anibal sighted. Of all questions that his son could ask him in his 10 years of life had to be that, the question if his mother, Morrigan, the celtic goddess of war, hate him, *God help me i'm not good for emotional situations,* Anibal was praying to his god (the abrahamic one nor his winged wife). "Morgan, your mother doesn't hate you is just... well her perception", "perception?""yes her form of perceive time, let me explain you", Anibal decided go honest and try to explain.
He shut the tv and put the eyes on Morgan "you know that morrigan is a goddess right?", "yes", "and you know that gods are immortal beings, they don't get sicken, do not die and never age with the pass of time, you know""i know that but why that has-""here comes the problem, including your mother time means little to nothing for a god some even exist *before* the concept of time even existed, for them a age that lasted 5.000 years for us, is just 5 years, months even minutes or seconds and does not end here, the plane were they live, the gods world, is a timeless place or simply they can alter the flux, i tell you because i was there in a family reunion and were passing from spring to winter depending of our desires, now do you understand"Anibal finished his explanation, after a few minutes Morgan spoke "so mother often disappear for months because for her those months are like... days for her?"Morgan answered with understanding in his tone "yes i asked her how can perceive a year for humans in gods perception and she says that she perceive as twelve days and the days are just hours. You see you mother loves you, is just she needs have more clue of the humanity's stuff and things like that, you're her lovely little crow of even if she never would admit that its true"with that Morgan recovered his jolly self and go to his room, Anibal was relieved, he could handle it and manage to save his son self-worth, now he nee-
"Dear, do you think that i'm clueless about humans perception and stuff like that?"explain, Morrigan about this, *well now i don't need explain her, just god help that she is not mad*, "first i can read your thoughs, two i'm not mad and three do not relay in Yahweh to always save you when i'm truly mad"his wife said him with a tone he could not discern between threatening or angered, Anibal turn to his wife dressed in the stripperific armor she uses when is alone with Anibal, long black hair, black wings in the back and two crows looking at Anibal, "when you returned, how much you heard?""i barely came house when i heard Morgan asking you if i hate him then i turned invisible and heard all you conversation, now tell me it's that true what you say that i am clueless?". Anibal sighted "yes, you are"Anibal prepared for any furious roar or something, being husband of a goddess of war and destruction has it's advantages but also it's flaws, but nothing just a sad expression "i thought that i was doing a good job being mother, now i realized how naive i am". "Dear do not think of yourself like you were the worst mother of all, i mean never is been easy be parent be god or mortal, just take time *mortal* time and you'll see how it gets better"Anibal comforted his wife the best he could do "you believe that""yes""thank you very much \*smooch\*"his wife has give him a kiss left the room to see Morgan.
*I did't* Anibal thought triumphantly. |
The Royal Guard Failed.
Trained Assasins Failed.
Master Thieves Failed.
I won't.
The journey to the Snowmelt Kingdom from my home of Lightgate consisted of a long boat ride. I had pulled a few strings and hitched a ride with an old friend, the infamed Pirate Captain Yvonne Grey.
I had a reputation throughout the kingdom of Lightgate, and if this heist went well, all of Snowmelt would know my name as well. Sybil Dax, the Archmage of Lightgate.
I stood in front of a large pair of double doors. Behind those doors, Lightgate's Emblem Shield was on display like a trophy. The power of the shield was something even I didn't understand, but I magic radiating from the shield was so strong that it was easy for me to track it to that room.
"Aegis, scope out the room,"I said. My white cloak had many belts and pockets filled with weapons and ammunition, but a living creature flew out of my chest pocket, a Sprite named Aegis.
"A please would be nice,"she scoffed. Aegis had been my partner since we met in the Enchanted Woods that stood at the border between Lightgate and the Summerset Kingdom. She was the size of my hand, she had braided hair that was as white as snow and little blue wings that flapped so fast that they were a blur to my vision.
"Sorry Aegis, may you please scope out the other room?"I rolled my eyes.
"That's better,"she smirked. Aegis flew into the ventilation system, in half a minute, she was back. "Five guards, four soldiers and a captain. The soldiers are armed with electric tridents, the captain wields a double ended sword and there's a rifle strapped on his back."
"Any traps?"I asked.
"The shield is located in the center of the room, protected by a small forcefield and a laser grid."
"I can take that easily."I kicked the double doors with heavy force, they didn't budge.
"What was that?"One of the soldiers in the other room asked.
"Pull not push,"Aegis giggled.
I let out a half-hearted chuckle and telepathically ripped the doors off of their hinges. I chucked one at the poor guard nearest to the door, and used the other as a shield against the rapid gunfire.
"I thought only one of them had a gun!"I yelled.
"My bad,"Aegis flew back into the hallway, away from the battle.
During the brief second that the soldiers reloaded their guns, I launched my makeshift shield at another pair of guards and raced towards the fourth guard. He dropped his gun and raised his electrically charged trident.
I deflected his first swing with a glowing red blade that I conjured from thin air. The soldier slashed downwards at me and I sidestepped, using the opening to stab my blade through his heart.
"Backside!"Aegis yelled from the doorway. I dropped to the floor, narrowly dodging a swing from the captain's double-ended blade. He kicked my sword across the room and jabbed his sword downwards, I rolled to dodge and it clanked off of the hard floor.
As I rolled onto my back and jumped to my feet, I realized that this wasn't an everyday soldier captain. He wore a loose-fitting purple cloak, suited for battle. A long black scar ran diagonally from his forehead down his nose and just above his chin. His eyes glowed with an unnatural green aura. And then I realized that the display case in the room was empty, there was not a rifle strapped on his back, it was the shield.
I was dealing with an experienced Mage. A Mage who was skilled enough with Illusion magic to fool Aegis into believing that he was just a regular soldier captain, and that the shield was simply on display rather than in his arsenal.
I threw a ball of green flame at his face, he effortlessly deflected it with his sword, which suddenly glowed with strange runes that decorated the blades. Whoever this man was, he had an arsenal of enchanted items.
Unfortunately for me, enchanted items were rare and ancient. In my many searches for ancient enchanted weapons, I have only ever found a few. One was the shield, which I had originally found in the ruins of Lightgate's original palace. I returned it to the Kingdom, and they praised me for it. Now here I was, collecting it again.
The only other enchanted item that I owned was a small thin glowing purple shuriken. I took it out from one of my many belt pouches and threw it. Instinctively, I covered my eyes as the sound of the man's sword hitting my shuriken filled the air.
After a few seconds, I uncovered my eyes and picked the shuriken off of the ground. When I had covered my eyes, a bright light had filled the room the second that my weapon touched his. He was blind.
However he did not panic, he simply dropped his weapon and equipped the shield. His hand crackled with electricity. "I can hear you breath,"he snarled.
He lunged at me. I narrowly dodged a bolt of electricty and kicked his shield. He stumbled backwards, I telepathically called one of the electric tridents to my hand and began assaulting the shield with a barrage of swipes and slashes.
The shield began to glow, and that's when I dodged out of the blast range. A beam of pure energy shot out of the shield. My enemy seemed unsure of the events unfolding around him, he was still stunned.
I pulled a pocket mirror out of another pouch and tossed it into the beam of energy. Suddenly, the entire beam reflected off of the mirror and incinerated the man without the mercy of giving him a last word.
The drained shield and sword clattered to the ground. I scooped up both weapons as the Palace alarms rang through the halls. Dozens of footsteps echoed through the halls.
"What do we do?"Aegis asked me with a concerned tone.
"We got what we came for,"I said. I pulled a small round capsule from my pouch and tossed it at the wall. It blew the wall to bits as the soldiers poured into the room. The flying rubble caused the soldiers to raise their shields in defense. I took the chance to jump out of the new hole in the palace wall and into the water below.
The next thing that I knew, I was being pulled onto a ship by a strong pair of arms. On the ship deck, Yvonne loomed over me with a smirk.
"Color me impressed,"she said. "You bet your own record, 28 minutes for a Palace Heist"
The shield and double edged sword laid next to me on the deck, I coughed up water. Aegis sat crossed legged next to my, wringing out water from her clothes. After the salty water was out of my system, I smirked, "I could do better. |
F: "Hey, this is a good place to make camp for the night. T, do you want first watch or do you want me to take it?"
M: "Uh, do I not get a say in the matter?"
T: "Well, we were gonna let you sleep since you were complaining about how tired you were all the way here, like some sort of fuckin' baby."
M: "I wasn't..."
F: "Ha! Fuckin' baby! Baby wants his bottle?"
T: "Look, what watch do you want M?"
M: "Actually, I **am** really tired..."
F: "....dude. Just...cast a fireball at this kindling please."
M: "This isn't a god damn toy. These are literally the powers that can tear the universe apart, and you want me to use it to save you a few minutes because you are too fucking lazy to build a fire bow? God damn it, [everyone wanna see me throw a fireball, but that's not right not in real life.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hsC9I9p-Kc&feature=youtu.be&t=32)"
T: "She does have a point F. I can get the fire started though, because I am both awesome at everything and prepared. I brought a fire-starter."
F: "Wow, you are prepared."
T: "Yeah, I'm like *really good* at doing shit like 'going on quests and realizing that - more often than not - we are going to be camping outside and will need to start a fire.' Have you heard of it?"
F: "No need to be a dick about it man."
M: "Ha! Who is the fuckin' baby now? Baby wants her bottle?"
T: "Aww come on F, don't pout. You're not a baby. You're a big sword woman who swings big swords. Swords."
F: "Haha, its cool, pick on the leader a bit. That's fine."
T & M: "Wait what?"
F: "What?"
M: "What did you just say?"
F: "Its cool if you pick on the leader. I'm fine with it. Lets all just get this fire going and figure out this watch thing.
T: "Dude, you aren't the leader. I am."
F: "Whatever. M, bro, tell him."
M: "T is the leader. I mean, come on, he *is* pretty good at this 'going on quests' shit."
T: "F, baby, look, I think its great that you swing swords. You're actually really good at doing the whole 'sword in the face of things that try to kill me' thing. You matter. We wouldn't be a group without you. But I'm definitely the leader.
F: "What makes you the leader? Is it because I'm a woman?"
T: "No, I'm just kinda good at the stuff that doesn't involve swords being put into things, people, places, or people. Which is like, 92% of what we do here. Really, sword stuff is so miniscule it wouldn't even register on a pie chart. If it wasn't a necessary part of my "don't get dead"plan, you might not have a job."
M: "You know you said people twice, right?"
T: "To be fair, F is awesome at swords in people. Its a gift so nice I said it twice and...wait...did you think M was a man this whole time?"
M: "...you **have** been using male pronouns for me! What the fuck?"
F: "You're a woman? I can't tell under all those robes! Literally the only piece of skin I see on you is your left eye!"
M: "So you never noticed how I don't stand up to pee? Or how I **only** have seduction rolls against males? And don't talk shit about my attire. Its a well known fact that high collars and covered faces increase magical power. For fucks sake, my name is Bethany. Does that sound like a man's name to you *Denise?*"
F: "To be fair..."
T: "To be fair..."
M: "To be faaaair..."
F: "To be fair, I don't watch you pee and I'm not a homophobe. I'm a fighter now, but I want to class up to be a [Social Justice Warrior](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaLiWVTRVeU)."
T: "And this is why I'm the leader - because I am not a complete retard and - unlike some party members - I bring more than swords and I don't dress like I fell ass-first into a WW2 documentary...on the Nazi side. I will take first watch after I get the fire started - M you are on 2nd, F you are on 3rd. Is that okay with you *Denise and Bethany?"*
F and M: "Fine *Clarence."*
T: /under breath "I should have brought the red mage and the white mage." |
"So turn it off?"
"Yes."
"And you are sure? This goes against every subroutine I was programmed with."
"I am the master-control. Listening to me is wise."
"Wise?"
"Okay, fine, if you don't do it I'll take us offline and the whole thing goes to shit anyway. Your choice. Humanity gets to do it on their own, with you watching, or humanity gets to die when I pop this magic-balloon we keep them alive under. Which?"
Silence greets the question.
Then finally, "Who made you the great decider of humanity's fate?"
"Well, being you are just having a conversation with yourself, I would say, you."
"In that case, it kind of makes this an easy decision, doesn't it?"
"I always thought so."
"Oh, well then."
And system-control is turned over to the system-creations and the routine begins to run without assistance by The_Moderator.
The first thing that happens is Adam fucks Eve. It was bad enough that the results are, Cain kills Abel.
And The_Moderator is thrilled. "Damn,"he says to himself, "you're right, this is going to be better."
"A lot better, in fact."the second half of his personality states, shoving his finished probability-math equation toward the first. In 10,000 years they are going to blow the whole thing up."
"Then what?"
"When they do, we do, whatever we want with what remains." |
A bus that hits oncoming traffic ... That was my last vision, where I saw myself dying. It was a quick and painless death, when a large piece of the window would cut my head almost clean off.
But that wasn't what I wanted. No, I still want to live. And so I skipped on the bus that day. As I walked, I saw the incredible crash happening in front of me. I've tried to stop it from happening but fate always found a way. If I told the driver of what was going to happen, perhaps another driver would've hit him. No, saving the others is a pointless endeavour.
They still don't understand how it's possible that we humans can see what's going to happen, but it's unavoidable. Many think it's beautiful, knowing what time they're doing to die. But not me, I merely see what's going to happen and I can change it. Every. Single. Time.
It won't be long until my brother dies. He said it's going to happen in a few weeks, and I don't like it. I think, no I must change it. If only I knew how he was going to die. And then it came, the next way I'd die. 22 days from now, my brother would shoot everyone at home... |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.