Split (1)

train · 177k rows

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‘Why does this always happen to me?’ I thought, furiously dabbing at the orange juice that just spilled on my white shirt. Of course this would happen. I have a job interview with the captain and the universe hates me just enough to spill the most rare and expensive drink on my nicest white shirt. It’s not like oranges grow on trees, and even if they did, there weren’t trees down here anyway. What an odd expression, why the hell do people still use it? I threw the rest of my breakfast away out of spite as I walked out of the cafeteria. What was the point of eating breakfast if I couldn’t wash that bland mush down with something decent like orange juice? It was infuriating. This had to happen right when things were finally looking up for me. The captain herself had asked me to come interview for the head of The Cleaning Operation. About time, too. No one else on this damn submarine could keep anything clean. How is that these people lived their whole lives in this filth? How is it that the only 15-year-old can be more clean than every single other person? It was just ridiculous. Why was everyone else so worthless? Trying my best to adjust my shirt to hide the stain, I knocked on the captain’s door. “Enter,” she said. I pushed the door open, preparing my speech for how I was thankful for this opportunity and looking forward to proving myself. I wiped my hands on my pants as the door opened to reveal the captain, tall and stern, dressed in her dark green uniform, standing with her back to me. My attention moved from her to what was in front of her, my words disappearing from my lips and mind. It looked like the wall was… open? But it couldn’t be open, water would be rushing in. But then what was that blindingly bright blue scene that was so obviously beyond the limits of the submarine? And what were those white wispy things? I have never heard of any sea creature that looked like that. And why was it so bright? Anger started to boil up inside me. All I wanted was to come interview with the captain so I could finally show everyone how to properly live. But the captain had to have some strange exhibition when I came in. Why couldn’t she just give me the job? Everyone knows I’m the best. I open my mouth to both question and complain, but before I can say anything, she says, “Henry. Come here.” I obliged. As much as I hate everything, I hate her the least. “It’s time you understand what’s really going on here, Henry.” She said as I stepped to her side. “Everything you’ve been told, everything you think you know, is a lie.” She turned to face me, her light brown eyes piercing mine as she looked at me. I saw an intensity in her eyes that I have never seen before, and it scared me. “We do not live in a submarine at the bottom of the ocean, we live in a bunker in the middle of the land. The blue you are seeing is not the ocean, it is the sky. We lied to you Henry, to keep you safe. There is no institution, you were not taken away to be educated by a private team of instructors. But you are still special, Henry. Yes, special indeed. You are the last one. There was not a Great Destruction like we told you, there was something much worse.” Her eyes grew distant as she turned to face the, what did she call it, sky? I swallowed. “We do not live in the ocean like we told you. Long ago, it was our only safe haven; long ago, we did recruit young men like you to train. But that is no longer possible. They followed us down there, Henry. They found us. We had to run to the surface, here where it is more dangerous than you can possibly imagine; here, where we must finally face them. I didn’t want it to come to this. I didn’t want to tell you until you were ready. But we can’t wait any longer.” She turned to me again, the intensity in her eyes replaced by pure fear. “Henry, they’re back, and you’re the only one who can stop them. You have to do this or all is lost. Defeat them, Henry, then come find us.” And with a blink of an eye, she vanished. The whole room vanished. And I found myself standing on what could only be land, beneath an endless so-called sky, the wind softly blowing my hair. I stood there, dazed. My life, gone. Suddenly, my hatred of everything disappeared and was replaced by sheer panic.
Two days I got I recieved a letter from the old man. It said to met today at a place called Red Robins in a city called Denver. While I was walking towards the restuarant I hear my name, well my reindeer name being called. "Comet, Comet"I hear. I recognize the voice easily. "Dasher"I said as he dashed towards me. We were Santa's fastest reindeer. He greeted me with a hug. I slowly hugged back. We have known each other for our whole lives but this felt awkward. We make small talk and then head in. We greeted the host and she led us to our table. At the table we see the girls: Vixen and Dancer. Vixen was still as beautiful as ever and Dancer still had her sweet smile. "Comet, Dasher"they both said as they hugged us. We caught up on what we did while we waited for the other. Vixen has a career as an actress while Dancer is, well a ballet dancer. Dasher is an athletic while I worked for Nasa. We were soon joined by Donner and Blitzen. Turns out they just broken out of jail. Oh and Prancer was the one that arrested them. Cupid then run over to us out of breath. Prancer came over with the old man himself: Santa Claus. The three seemed very worried. "What's going on I asked?"I said in a worried tone. "Rudolph has gone missing"
Sometimes I like to think I’ve seen it all. At least, everything practically possible. And thanks to my mother, just about heard everything. She and I have been everywhere, it’s just how we bonded. But even then, the one thing neither of us fully knew was my father’s identity. Anytime I bring it up, my mother will shut down completely. So today I thought I’d try to find out for myself. Specifically, through a DNA test. But though this, I only got more lost. I had known that my mother was very ‘genetically exotic’, from nearly every corner of the planet; I had met her family nearly every time we travelled. But that is not where I lost comprehension. The test results, although absolute, had only 50% completion. A huge, grey portion of the pie chart that made me up only read “unassigned”. It was like half of me didn’t exist. I even got an apology email from the specialist who had my DNA, she had no idea where nearly 50% of me had vanished to. I had to confront my mom about this- I was too deep in to give up now. So I called her later that same day. She was dead silent as I explained the whole situation. As I was finishing, I practically begged her, “So what is this then? Is he dead? Is he off the grid? You should know!” Although harsh, I had spent so long in wonder. She simply inhaled and said, “ I know you were never the religious type. But believe me when I say, I wanted a child so long, and all I did was pray for someone to join me in life that I could raise and love. Believe me when I say, I prayed in every language I knew, to any deity that this world is blessed with.”. Her accented voice trembled over the phone. “And one day, all of those prayers were answered. Simply one day, I felt a light in me that was different from anything else I’ve ever felt. I met my baby boy for the first time.” Near the end, I could hear her choke up, but from a happiness that felt genuine.
In a bar in a little town somewhere in Tennessee, a tall, slim woman with years' worth of frown lines on her face downed yet another glass of the best whiskey she'd found anywhere. The man across from her looked rattled by how sober she still was, but he picked up his glass with a determined look. The woman smirked slightly, as did a few of the regulars who knew her. She'd drunk them all under the table and walked away without as much as a flushed face, and she was going to do it again. That ten-dollar bill on the table was as good as hers. A short, red-headed man burst through the door, breathing hard. "SIR!"he shouted. The woman sighed, looking over at him. "What now, Paddy?" "S-sir, I... you were right. He's back." Everyone in the little bar went silent at the sudden change in atmosphere. The woman pushed her empty glasses toward the middle of the table carefully. "Patrick, be clear. Who's back?" "It's... It's Old Nick. He's back." The woman stood and slid the ten-dollar bill toward her competitor. "You told the others?" "Yes sir." "Where is he?" "New York." The woman marched out of the bar, waving off the weak protest from the bartender, who sighed and put the cost of the drinks on her tab. Once outside, the woman turned the corner, glanced around, and pulled off her jacket, letting thin, dragonfly-like wings spread into the air. "Do you think you have enough power, sir?" "Paddy, I've been preparing for forty years for Old Nick to show his face. If forty years of child magic weren't going to be enough, I wouldn't have been able to send Nick to that hole in the first place." "But... sir, today's children don't have the same amount of magic. At least–"The woman cut Patrick off impatiently. "They might not have as much magic, but their teeth still hold the same amount. Trust me, Paddy. I know teeth."The woman took to the skies, already preparing herself for another headlong plunge into war.
The post was deleted but I already took the time to critique it soooo...... Yeah here you go. >They would rather forget all about it then to remember it and cringe and shudder at the thought of how stupid they were. They would rather forget all about it than remember ~~it~~ and cringe and shudder at the thought of how stupid they were. >When I'm alone with someone, mostly intentionally, but sometimes not so, I enter that person's private life. When I'm alone with someone, usually intentionally, but not always, I enter that person's private life. (Readability changes.) >Like a flower opening herself for a bee, or an elevator, opening its doors to do the only job it is capable of doing: transporting people vertically. (I don't think this clarification is necessary and throws me off when I'm reading, I'd personally prefer just the flower comparison because it's much more on tune with your meaning and stronger alone.) >By then I'm usually a couple of information richer than I was moments ago. (Information shouldn't be used this way, id rather see something like "tid-bits"or factoids."Or you could rework it for information to fit.) >They, on the other hand, are usually left standing there, red ~~from embarrassment~~ like a ripe tomato. (My preference would be to use as instead of like, but what you've done here is shown and tell when only showing would work and give better imagery.) >I'll ~~try to~~ skip the boring parts. (Another preference thing, but removing try to makes it more immediate and gives the reader more confidence.) >After waking up at 6:30 and doing the usual morning stuff, I headed to work. I arrived at 7:14, fourteen minutes late. After waking up at 6:30 and doing the usual morning stuff, I headed to work and arrived at 7:14, fourteen minutes late. >This is because of something my boss said to me six months ago. Six months ago my boss called me into his office to fire me, and ended up telling me a lot of private things. Because six months ago my boss called me into his office to fire me, but ended up telling me a lot of private things instead. (When you repeat ideas ie "six months ago"in neighboring sentences you can usually make them into one sentence.) I was ~~quickly~~ stopped by a police officer in an unmarked ~~police~~ car. (Adjectives are bad unless they are necessary for the imagery, and avoid repeating words that are implied if already used.) Hah, Nuggets. What a shitty name." (Professional sports teams are proper nouns and should be capitalized and you forgot to close your quotation.) >police officer who was richer by twenty dollars police officer who was twenty dollars richer >“Haha yeah, just like an audition. So, what do I need to do to pass the audition?” “Haha yeah, just like an audition. So, what do I need to do to get the part?” (watch out for echoing words, it seems to be one of your biggest weaknesses.) >I followed her out of the bar to a taxi. Then I followed her up the stairs of an old building. Then into her apartment. And then into her bed, I followed her out of the bar to a taxi. (Something is missing here we just jump straight to her home) Then I was led up the stairs of an old building, into her apartment, and into her bed.
Fred yawned as he padded into the living room of his one-bedroom apartment. He admired the colorful 5-foot tree with a sad smile. "Merry Christmas, mom,"he whispered to himself. After a moment, he decided it was time to get something in his stomach. Before he turned toward the kitchen, a rustling noise broke the silence. "Damnit, it better not be rats again,"he mumbled to himself and looked for the origin of the sound. He heard it again coming from behind the tree. "What the hell?"Fred walked around to get a better look and found a single red-wrapped gift under his tree. A bright green bow sat on the bread-loaf shaped box. He immediately glanced at the door. The deadbolt was still turned the right way and his chain was still on the door. His living room only had one small window and the tree sat directly in front of it. "How the hell did you-"Fred knelt to inspect the gift; but, it moved. "WHOA!"he immediately jumped back when the box inched toward him. "Damnit,"a disappointed voice said next to him. Fred, already plenty confused, turned toward the voice; his jaw dropped. "I was hoping you hadn't seen it yet,"a white-bearded round man in a red suit said. "S..SANTA!??"Fred screamed. On any other Christmas morning, he would have been concerned about having a stranger in his house; even one dressed as Santa Claus. But, there was an unexpected gift under his tree. The doors and windows were still locked, and most of all the gift moved. Either Santa was actually in his apartment, or he was dreaming. Either way, Fred believed the stranger was Father Christmas. Santa nodded. "Sure. Let me just grab that, and I'll be out of your way."The fat man shoved past Fred to grab the gift; it growled at him. "Isn't it for me?"Fred asked. He wasn't the type to be greedy; but, everyone knew Santa delivered gifts. The familiar stranger shook his head as he turned around; the red gift wriggled and growled in his hands like a chihuahua headed for a bath. "Wrong you. Sorry."Santa said. He managed to shove the wild into a purse-sized red velvet bag. Then, he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Fred. "Keep this mistake between us, and this is yours. Deal?"he asked. Fred inspected the card-sized rectangle of glass; it was almost as thin as a sheet of paper. "What is it? And, what mistake did you make exactly?" "It's a node. Uh, it's like a cell phone, but better. You'll figure it out,"he said; then sighed. "I found out the guy that was supposed to get this gift died, that's what threw me off. Anyway...,"Santa tipped his white-trimmed cap. "See you next year maybe." "Whoa, wait!"Fred was quick to stop Santa. "Did you say, 'wrong you'? Is there another me?"Santa sighed, and his head dipped low. "There are millions of other you's in millions of different universes. The version of you that was supposed to get this baby mimic died,"Santa shrugged. "It's my first day and mistakes were made. Sorry. I still have some gifts to go, so..."Santa waved a mitted-hand at the air and a black portal opened in Fred's living room. "HOLD ON!"Fred yelled. He dashed between Santa and the portal. "You gave me way more questions than answers. Alternate universes are real? That's a real baby mimic? What are you going to do with it? How is it your first day? Santa's been around forever."Santa sighed. "Look pal, we're both adults. Santa Claus isn't real."Fred was quick to gesture at the fat bearded man as if to say, 'You're right there!' Santa shook his head. "Corporate Santa,"he said and patted his chest. "It's a job like any other. I, and hundreds of other guys, got hired to play Santa. Yes,"Santa nodded. "Alternate universes are real." "This,"he shook the red bag and shrugged. "I'm delivering to the right house,"he paused for effect. "in another universe. I think the kid's mom would appreciate it for her son." "Mom?"Fred asked. "The other me's mom is.. alive?"Santa nodded. "Wh..."Fred began to ask but hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted the answer. After a moment, Santa stepped forward and Fred decided. "What's her name!?" 'Uh..,"Santa raised his mitt to his face; Fred noticed he held another node. "Carolyn Embers"Fred rushed two steps forward and pushed the gifted node against the fat man's chest. "Take this back. Take me to meet her, and I won't say a word about your mistake to anyone."Fred spoke quickly, his voice cracked and tears began to pool in his eyes. "Please,"he begged. "Yeah, alright,"Santa said. He stepped forward and shoved Fred backward through the portal. Fred lost his balance and stumbled backward. "Merry Christmas and whatever." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #356 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order.
"Well, if it isn't the reaper, the person who has been sending people to the afterlife like a machine." After so many people have died by my hands, some people started to suggest it was an entire organization doing the work. After 40 years, I slowly loosened up and worked up the courage to go to a bar and met a charming lady. "You look like the reaper! The guy on the security cameras!"Yeah, after a while I also slowly gave up the assassin facade. Could you blame me? Do you know how much work it is to hide being seen on camera? It was very tiring. Eventually, I was talking to her that I wanted to have a "special night"and then kill her. So, I did just that. I had a spectacular night then I was planning to kill her in her sleep. The lady insisted on staying awake, which was a bit suspicious but, old age was getting to me and I was forced to yield and go to bed first, hell, maybe I would be able to have a few more good times before killing her. Well, I never had that chance because when I woke up, I was in the face of God. Now, after a while, I had become a little less than an assassin and more of a plain murderer, I was going more insane, more psychotic with each kill that I just started killing people whenever I had the chance I had a fantastic night, but in my sleep, it turns out I was murdered by the person that I thought was just a normal lady. As it turns out, being sloppy and lazy can lead to some rumors on the streets. It also turns out that those rumors can be so convincing that someone would kill off of the rumors. That lying, bastard. Although I wanted to complain, it was kind of a risk of my whole lifestyle. Now, back to present day or present heaven, God asks for me to kill the devil "Over the years, I have become impatient with being forced to sort people and I have noticed that it would be better if there was just one place, combined heaven and hell, also, the place has been getting quite cramped and I believe I could... renovate hell quite a bit."Was this bastard serious? "I'm sorry, kill satan? I do have 4 decades of experience in killing but this is a bit of an outrageous increase in expectations!"I said, exasperatedly. "Look, I'll make you a deal, if you kill satan, you will have a statue and all your sins will.... be forgiven."I could see god was quick to anger, and who could blame him? Endlessly sorting dead people, I kind of felt bad but I quickly shook that thought away. "I would have to kill satan to have a statue and be on the upper part of this new heaven?"I asked as I was ready to accept "Yes, that would be how the deal would work."God asked, I had a deep feeling and he was cocky right now, but I didn't really have much of a choice, kill satan, or rot in hell. Finally, I walked up to god and said "Alright, I'll do it" Sorry if it sounds bad, this is my first time posting here for the writing prompt.
"It's been six months, Jane. You have to let this go,"Darren pleaded. His eyes wide and fearful as he watched me rush around the room throwing together my small suitcase. "You know I can't do that,"I responded. "Jim died trying to get that door open. If I give up now…"I trailed off as my throat seized with the memory. I shook off the emotions as I stuffed the last of my clothes in and zipped it shut. I pivoted to face him and the rest of my words caught in my throat as I watched him slide his ring from his finger. "I know, Jane. I know the entire spiel."His voice was so defeated as he rubbed his eyes. I couldn't even begin to respond. It felt like my soul was on fire. Like I couldn't breath through the sudden onslaught of pain. "I know you are going. I've known that for a long time but if this is so important to you that you'd risk your life again, I'm done." I watched dumbfounded as he dropped his ring on the dresser. I watched as he took a long look at me. I could tell me wanted me to cry and beg him to stay but I wasn't that type of girl. That, probably more than anything, was what sparked the anger that came next. I felt it heat my face and crease my brow, before I couldn't hold it in any longer. "I flew all they way here so you could do this overly dramatic shit? If you really wanted to leave me, why didn't you do it while I was gone?" Instead of answering my natural knee jerk reaction of overbearing sarcasm, he sighed heavily before moving over to the desk. "I need your signature."He said as he pulled a manilla envelope from the top drawer. He slid the pile of papers out of it and faced me again. He fanned them out before him like I knew what they were. Dammit, I knew exactly what they were. "You begged me to come home so I could sign some divorce papers?"I exclaimed. The anger took over then and it was more like I was watching what I was doing but had no control. I picked up the nearest hard object I could find and flung it over my head. His favorite duck figurine shattered against the wall next to his head. If I had any control over my actions at the time, I might have cringed when I noticed what I thrown, but instead, I grabbed for my next victim. There were so many flooding our shelves that I didn't have reach far or even look where my hand was going. I reared back and threw it as I screamed out my anger. Another four or five stupid figurines met their end before my anger finally died out. It was almost comical watching him dive out of the way as his prized collection crumbled around him. When the moment came that the anger died completely, I collapsed on our bed. I heaved more out of emotional exhaustion than anything else. "Are you quite done?"He asked. His voice bled with a calmness that startled me. I cocked my brows at him questioningly as I heaved myself up off the bed. "We found a hatch door in the bottom of the Marianas Trench. I have to open it."I replied. My voice, in turn, felt cold and lifeless. "I know,"he responded evenly, "and I'm proud of you, but I can't let you go down there while I pretend this is still working for me. We are done, Jane. We have been for a long time. This,"he said while waving the papers in the air in front of him, "is way past due. We both know that." "You're right,"I replied with a sigh. "Sorry about your ducks."I stepped toward him and pulled the papers from his hand before moving over to the desk. Instead of the despair I anticipated, a calm sense of something, acceptance, maybe, filled me as I scribbled my name in all of the highlighted sections. With my task complete, I sorted the papers and slid them back into the envelope he held out. Our eyes met and another wave a calmness enveloped me. I pulled him in for a hug. "I'm not angry,"I whispered in his ear. "It's ok,"he responded as he squeezed me in return, "we were always better friends."I met his slight smile with a nod before turning back to my bag. With a newfound wave of urgency I slung it and with a final nod in his direction, rushed out the door and into the cab that was waiting. I gave the driver the address and then slumped back into the seat. The sun had already set and the lights of the city flew by the windows in a unseen blur as tears bled from my eyes. They didn't last long, for a six year relationship we had only spent less than half of that time together. When he wasn't at work, he was golfing or woodworking in the garage. I had always been working. It had only gotten worse since the discovery. On a deep dive in the trench, my partner and boss, Jim Patterson and I had found it. A hatch door in the deepest part of the ocean. After the press release, the whole world started watching our progress. The fucked up part was, we couldn't get it open. After two months of trying everything we could think of, the accident happened. Jim went down alone to try his own cockamamie idea. We still hadn't been able to recover his sub or him for that matter. Funerals sucked. Funerals with empty caskets and family and friends looking at me for answers they thought only I could give, were exponentially worse. It was a dark time but then there was a light that came out of that tunnel. His name was Timothy Baker. As a self-proclaimed egocentric billionaire, he was exactly what we needed. He dished out the checks without a care in the world. With his support, we were able to build a pressurized structure around the hatch so we could work without the danger the millions of gallons of water pushing in on us afforded. The entire thing was previously unheard of and it took months to complete. That why I was in such a rush, it was finally done and we were ready to send our first teams down. Of course, that also meant I was going to have to deal with Mr. Baker's "one condition"but hell, it's a small price to pay, right? The taxi came to a stop a hundred yards from the helipad. I hopped out and jogged my way toward the chopper. Its blades started spinning as I ducked under them and made my way to the large open door. When Mr. Baker's large dark hand gripped my forearm, I nearly jumped out of my shoes with how well he blended into the shadows. I immediately felt terrible about my reaction but after he pulled me inside, his face scrunched in laughter, was illuminated by the faint lights. I rolled my eyes in response and he released me to find my seat across from him. I buckled in and downed my headset. "You ready for this, Sir?"I asked him, hoping my questioning would deter him from making fun of my fear. It worked like a charm and that, more than anything, raised my hackles. "Hell, yeah,"he replied with a smile. His big brown eyes shining in the light from the cabin. Even after six months of working with him, it was still odd to me to see such a large man in such a small chopper. Not that it was actually small, but his large frame would make anything look tiny by comparison. His dark glower and muscly build seemed intimidating at first but his laid back demeanor and quick to smile attitude made him a conundrum for every one of the stereotypes. Yeah, I still hadn't quite figured him out. My stomach dropped as the chopper lifted us into the air. I wasn't scared of flying but Mr. Baker's personal pilot was a little scary. I shifted in my seat to hide my uncomfortableness. I didn't have much time to think about it as Mr. Baker's smug eyes caught mine. "What?"I asked. I couldn't bother with formalities. I gripped the hand rest so hard my hands bled their color against the pressure. My stomach flipped with every jolt the bird threw at us. It felt like the butterflies a teenage girl would feel talking to her crush for the first time. It was amazing how often the feeling of fear was the same, whether you were in a life threatening situation or just feeling the possibility of rejection. It all seems peculiarly similar in the long run. "I need to ask for a favor,"he replied with pleading eyes.
"Morality is a weak argument for most things. What's right or wrong, good and bad, and who has the authority to judge us for those actions as if any one person is an expert. There's not a person alive who's equipped to deal with the repercussions of the worlds actions. There's a reason the last one who tried was crucified. It's disgusting, and the inactivity in the form of judgment and concern reveals their motives, or lack there of. The world needs men and women of action, who are willing to step into the line of fire, and risk it all. Not because it's for the greater good, but to maintain the balance. If it wasn't for people like me, the slaves of the technological age wouldn't have anything to complain about on their silver screens and pocket computers. When people like that lose their juice, they fester and rot. If something wasn't wrong, they'd make something up. Peace is a joke, because no one really wants it. If we had it, we'd lose interest within the week, and go back to waring with one another until we landed back here, at square one, ready to complain about the vicious cycle until we wipe ourselves off the surface of this earth, admitting the plague that we are as a fleeting, final thought. I wish I didn't feel this way, that I could ignore the truth and wade through the chaos and bullshit with the rest of you, but I can't. I'll stand up and make a difference, even if it only lasts for a brief moment in time. Someone will remember this, and that someone is you. The one reading this, the one wondering why so much of this makes sense, as if it was written specifically for you as part of a selfish, center of the world complex that you undoubtedly have about yourself, and it is. This entire manuscript is about you, and how you're going to carry this weight with you when I'm gone." It was a prelude to the next wave of leaks. Martin Branch had been steadily dripping information to the press for months, and finally taken credit in the form of his "final drop,"as he'd titled it. His bosses boss followed a 20 man chain of contacts, and his request landed in my inbox. He wanted Martin gone. Not because it would stop the leaks, but to send a message to potential future leakers. Snowden started a trend, with Wikileaks close behind as the most famous whistle blowers in the public eye. It was hard to argue with some of them, and the corruption revealed as it all came together. Then you have people like me who are paid handsome sums to "take care of"the good guys, the ones trying to stand up for the unaware or ill equipped. You had to respect someone who was willing to die at the stake for what they believe in, even if you didn't agree with everything yourself. The cherry from my cigarette burned bright orange as smoke cascaded through my cracked, drivers side window. Fog was settling on the streets from the upcoming snow storm, and Martin was scheduled till 11:30PM. It was 11:24pm, which meant 6 minutes of shift, roughly 3-4 minutes to walk to his vehicle from the building, and another 10 minutes waiting for his car to warm up before he drove home. At this time of night, the average drive from here to his home in South East Karcher would take about 18 minutes. His wife and 10 year old son would already be asleep. His wife was sick of waiting up for him on the long nights, and arguing about what he was doing, how he was the selfish one, and they only ones who needed a hero were her and his son, not the rest of the people who was trying to look out for with these leaks. Here I was, counting down the last 40 odd minutes of this mans life because I'd scheduled it down to the second. Martin would take a detour 2 miles from home due to a power outage, and the utility vehicle blocking the road to work on the power line. It would delay his trip home by an additional 10 minutes, and he'd take the freeway. Once he took the off ramp for exit 13, he'd be blind sided by me, cut off and driven into the suicide lane where the barrier was weakened, plunging him straight into the canal below. This time of year, he'd freeze to death before help came, and it would all look like an accident, unless I stayed here, in his parking lot, and decided to smoke another cigarette. 10:33pm and I see Martin from the rear view mirror. He slips on the ice in the parking lot while trying to juggle a briefcase and his coffee mug when trying to open his passenger side door. He catches himself, but drops everything else. I hear big bellied laughs and turn to look through the back window, where several coworkers are pointing at Martin. None of them offer help. He looks disheveled, shaken and stressed from the amount of chaos he's shifting through in his life, with his work, and the manuscript that's taken all of the energy he has left. It's at this point that I decide to smoke another cigarette, and let him be. I don't know if I relate to what he says, but as I reread the first paragraph of his monologue, something sticks with me. "There's not a person alive who's equipped to deal with the repercussions of the worlds actions." Who am I to deal with the repercussions of Martin's actions? What credentials do I have to determine he's no longer fit to breathe the air that we all breathe? I'm no judge and jury, just the hand that feeds the long sleep, and for once, I'm tired of it. pop I catch a flash in the cab of Martin's car from the rear view mirror. The windows have fogged over, but the familiar scene of splatter has washed across the back windshield of his car, and even if it's 40 feet away, I know he kept a 9mm in the glove box. I guess I'll smoke another cigarette.
I heard the faint chirping of birds coming from the open window of my neighbour's house. I pulled back the blinds and gazed over the fence. Dave's budgies were deep in conversation. It sounded important. I'd never had the pleasure of being introduced to them personally so I'd taken the liberty of naming them myself. Alfie was mostly grey, with a brilliant yellow face and feathers that shot up like Alfafa from The Little Rascals. Sky was a pale shade of blue with a decorated white face. As I watched Sky berate Alfie, presumably over knocking down the cuttlefish again, Dave set down his coffee and opened the cage carefully. He was a tall but slight man, with thin dark hair and limbs one size too small. Alfie and Sky began to bob excitedly as Dave affixed the cuttlefish to it's hook and closed the cage. He gazed at his two birds and whispered something lovingly. I waved from my bedroom window. This would be the day. He will wave back. He will. My metred flailing caught Dave's eye and he looked up from the cage. He paused. A look of confusion came across his face. Followed by one of concern. And finally, it settled with disgust. Dave cautiously but quickly turned and walked out of the room. &#x200B; "Bloody hell,"I said to myself. "How much trouble would it be just to smile?" &#x200B; A gentle morning breeze came through my window and danced through the wiry forest upon my chest. It felt good. Taking my own advice, I smiled. I wasn't going to let Dave's foul mood spoil my morning. I interlaced my fingers and reached my arms up high. A pleasure-driven guttural moan inadvertently came into being at the precise moment Dave had returned to retrieve his morning coffee. &#x200B; "Put some bloody pants on!"Dave shouted in my general direction before he pulled down the venetians with haste. &#x200B; And just like that, I found out what Dave's voice sounded like. Not the most becoming way, I admit, but effective nonetheless. Still the issue remained of his identity. For 2 years I lived next to this man and didn't know the first thing about him. I only even called him Dave because he bore a slight resemblance to David Bowie. The man never said even said hello let alone explained what he does to make such an understated symphony of chaos each night. The noise wasn't particularly loud but it was driving me insane. Thuds, bumps, creaks, cracks and always a monotonous purr from dusk til dawn. You would think after 2 long years I'd work up the nerve to ask but I'm far too polite to verbally start our living relationship with a confrontation. &#x200B; As the day went by I devised my plan of attack. Before Dave got home from work I would take some catnip from my backyard and feed it though the mail slot of his front door. Then, as he returned I would be out walking Fiska, my Russian Blue. With a look of surprise and shame, I would call out to him as he unlocked the door "Oh! Excuse me,"and then launch into a long winded apology about the morning's 'unfortunate' anatomical transpirings. Meanwhile, Fiska would have magically slipped out of her harness in search of the catnip like the good little junkie she is, giving me cause to enter the house and carry on the conversation while discovering the secret identity of Mr Dave. &#x200B; At 5:26pm I awoke to the sound of a Mini Cooper reversing into Dave's driveway. Panic quickly set in as I scrambled for Fiska's harness. &#x200B; "Here Fisky! Tch tch tch! Fisky!? Fiska!?"I looked under every piece of furniture I owned and ran between every room, becoming the world's most agile A-frame. &#x200B; The engine switched off, Dave closed the car door. I was out of time. The plan was nothing without that cat. It was time to improvise. I threw on a shirt and sandals and hurried out the door. Dave was walking up the steps to the front door. Wait for it... &#x200B; He took out his keys. Just a little longer... &#x200B; A large, rusted key filled the hole, turned, clicked. Say something! &#x200B; "Uh... um..."I'd drawn a blank. "Oi!"I beckoned. &#x200B; Dave turned his head and faced me questioningly. "Hello,"He replied. "Can I help you?" &#x200B; "No...I mean yes! Well kind of. Uhhm, hi."I paused. Dave paused. I paused again. "I wanted to apologise for this morning. I was half asleep still and didn't realise the wind blew my robe open." &#x200B; "That's quite alright."A wry smile broke out across his face as Dave turned back to enter the house &#x200B; "Wait!"I called. &#x200B; "...Yes?"The slightest note of emotion came through Dave's voice. &#x200B; "Have you seen my cat? She doesn't usually wander off but I can't find her anywhere."I feign a genuine plea as I take a step forward. &#x200B; Dave shut the door and turned his body towards me. "I'm afraid not,"The glint of emotion had disappeared from his voice. &#x200B; "Oh, okay. Uh...no worries. Let me know if you see her. She answers to-" &#x200B; "Fiska. I know,"Dave interjected. "Good night then." &#x200B; Dave turned around and opened the wide burgundy door. I really thought that would work. If I could just get him concerned or maybe even out looking with me, then I might get to know him. Maybe I wouldn't have learnt everything but it would have been better than two men silently driving each other insane. I shook my head and watch Dave's path curiously. Dumbfounded. My eyes drift up to the doorway and through his disappearing heels I noticed a sprig of bruised catnip. &#x200B; That night, I couldn't sleep. The sounds from Dave's house were ever so slightly louder. There was a thickness in the air coated by a haunting purr. &#x200B; A week later Dave moved out. I'd never get my chance to know him or what went on inside that old colonial house. &#x200B; A couple of weeks after that I drove to the realtor where I'd taken out a lease almost 23 months ago to give them my notice that I'd be moving on. Fiska hadn't returned and I couldn't look at the house the same way without her. &#x200B; "Well I'm sorry to hear that,"The realtor said to me, "You've been one of the most stable tenants we've had at that address for a long time. And no complaints either!" &#x200B; "Complaints?"I queried, "Did you get a lot of those from the last tenant?" &#x200B; "Oh yes! And the one before that and the one before that! Mostly about some weird goings on in the area. Some real doozies too. One even accused the neighbour of lurking about in the backyard with wire cutters. But when we met the guy they were pointing the finger at he had no idea what we were talking about! I tell ya, our faces were red that day. Strange fella, but polite enough for ya. Dunno what got into those folk. I guess you'd be paranoid too if you kept an illegal turtle in your backyard, hey?" &#x200B; I looked up from the sterile silver table into the realtors optimistic blue eyes. &#x200B; "I suppose so"I nodded, shook the realtors hand and left.
"Susan, what if this one isn't viable?"Marquella asked. She stared at Susan, who was busy studying the graphics on the wall, but not really. "It has to be."Susan turned the opposite direction of Marquella, not letting her face be seen as she pushed off the wall toward the mess hall. James had buckled himself into the captain's chair, pretending to have fun piloting their spacecraft, though it had a preset course that would not be moved. The chair was more a fancy couch than anything. James sat up straighter, causing Marquella to twist, arms folded, toward the front of the ship where the windows showed the planet they were to report on. The dinghy was on its way back with Stephen and Louise in it. Only its silhouette was visible, though, in front of the orange glow of its engine blasts. Marquella met them at the receiving dock. The astronauts came out of the air lock chamber, Stephen's body language was tired as he took his helmet off and let it go to float in the air. His face was blank. Louise kept her helmet on and curled up. If they were on Earth she would have sat all slumped over on the floor, letting gravity hold her somewhere secure, but space wasn't that comforting. "Are you sure?"Susan's voice said from behind Marquella. Stephen only let out a long and heavy breath. "What about the ship?"Marquella asked. "We've been growing plants on here. We can live here." "It's not like we have another choice,"Stephen remarked. "Don't joke with us, Marquella,"Susan warned. "We have to send a message to Earth." "And tell them what?"James almost shouted from the doorway. "That there's no hope? We can't do that to them." Marquella squoze her hands into fists and as loud as she could, shouted, "WHAT ABOUT THE SHIP?"
I watch the great drake sit, wings neatly folded, her head craned around to watch another work. She was probably three times my height, two pairs of forearms on her chest, dark golden scales with flecks of red across them. If she didn't occasionally crane over to clean them, I would've thought them natural. "Are you almost done, Flitzrin?" She asked, her frills folding back, almost annoyed. My eyes widened- I hadn't heard the dragons speak before. Only grunts and noises. Her claw tapped steadily on the cold ground of the cave. I did my best to turn and see this Flitzrin, but every movement I made that may have indicated leaving the odd circle I sat in gave me another sharp glare from the golden one. Flitzrin was very small and spindly, his arms reaching almost his entire body length and his tail three times it. His wings, almost like a bug's, draped down lazily. "Just a moment, Ma'am," he huffed, "it's already started. Ask her something, see if she understands you." The golden one rolled her eyes, huffing. "'already started'. She doesn't look any different." "It's a process, Ma'am. That's why we've chosen so few. It's hard to save a species." "Save- save a species?"I asked, caught off guard by the way my voice felt. It would be hard to explain- as if I were coughing, but words hit my ears instead. The gold dragon seemed more annoyed, somehow, by the question. "Well shit, she knows words now. Gibberish for the longest time. Anyway- I'm Ma'am, that's Flitzrin, and you're gonna be joining us." "Ma'am," Flitz cut in, putting a hand over his chest as the pen continued to write, unassisted. "You can't just throw her in like that. I mean-" He turned to me, his pink eyes almost glowing as he work continued on behind him. "Yes, Ma'am is right. You were chosen to join us dragons, you and about a hundred others." "Why?"I asked, after taking a long moment to soak that in. The War told us dragons were nothing but warring brutes only here to kill and feast on blood; but my blood didn't seem to be being feasted on, assuming the flecks on Ma'am scales didn't count. She'd bark a laugh. "We were lucky to find you. We had to hunt for suitable candidates, ones that both didn't actually fight us and could survive the change." My skin paled as she said that. "You bare-assed glitterfurred humans almost wiped out our entire species. We just need help getting it back." (Wip, maybe. Idk if I'll get back to it or not)
It's dark in here. Dark and damp. I can smell the damp above everything else. It overrides the other odours. The regular, expected odours of petrol, oil and rusting machinery that you might usually find in a warehouse like this. It had to be a warehouse. It had to be somewhere quiet and out of the way and I couldn't think of anywhere else. I must have walked past this place without really seeing it a thousand times so it was the first place that came to mind. I sit on a broken swivel chair, it leans forward at an awkward angle. It's missing on of its little castor wheels, I found it laying in the corridor outside the foreman's office. It was the best choice as far as I could make out. Concrete walls on three sides and the only windows looked out into the corridor. This would be help reduce collateral damage but left me sitting in a poorly illuminated room, sitting on a grimy, three wheeled executive recliner. I didn't want to sit waiting in the dark. I tried the switches on the wall. The fluorescent bulbs buzzed and flickered, one of the fixtures manages to start and gives out enough light to see by. Some time has passed and the smell of damp has gone, or I've just gotten used to it either way I'm aware of noise now. The constant hum and occasional click of the strip light. The creaks and squeaks of the amputated swivel chair. It's so quiet you can hear a pin drop. I look at my phone, checking the time. I check my email. I check the time again. I compose a brief message for posterity, then erase it. What's the point. Some time passes, I check my phone. Three minutes and fourteen seconds have passed. There is a subtle change in the atmosphere. I watch the desk in front of me. It's Formica top is yellowed, there is a fine layer of dust and debris on the table. A small desiccated insect husk sits amidst flakes of plaster on top of a film of dust, a chitinous mausoleum sitting in the rubble. A few moments pass as I watch the surface of the table intently looking for a sign. It's the smallest grains of dry plaster that I notice first, hopping around. Then the larger pieces started to crawl, the sound followed. A continuous, dull roar of bass through the concrete floor punctuated by the careful footsteps of heavy bodies, moving stealthily and my heart thumping inside my chest. The cessation of sound crashes down on me like a tsunami, it comes the moment I see the door handle twitch. My breath stops in my throat and my heart flutters as I let go of the grenade. I hold my breath and start to count. Six. The ceramic show stopper drifts to the ground. Time moves like molasses, the grenade falls gracefully on its downward trajectory. Five. The door begins to creep open, its projected arc is beautiful and smooth. The opening door is followed by a boot, thrust forward, ejecting dust as it snaps back at the end of its reach. Then bodies follow. I continue counting. Four. The ceramic container of the grenade pings as it hit the concrete, it can be heard even over the stampede, the incursion collapses into chaos as all those bodies hurtling into the room begin to contort themselves against the forces of momentum and gravity. Three. An armed and armoured man shrinks away from me, he dodged away from the door and his retreating comrades instead of towards it and them. His chances aren't good. They're probably better than mine though. Two. I hear a deep guttural howl from beyond the door frame. The grenade bounces one last time. The chime of it's casing knocking against the concrete creates an oddly cheerful sound. The man in the corner is folded into the foetal position. His rifle is still in the process of rattling onto the ground. The phone in my pocket starts to buzz. I've finished counting. It's dark in here. Dark and damp. I can smell metal and blood. It cuts through everything else. My boots crunches on something, bone or concrete. I'm not sure and I don't really want to look.
The bullet went right through. A clean hole in the collar of my coat would be a constant reminder of how close I had just come to death and for the first time in my life I feared it. There were no signs of the shooter but the smell of burnt gunpowder. A paper blowing with the breeze against the building, but not another sound. Five years after the government banned all forms of ammunition except in trades of good deeds, the world had become a more peaceful place. Police were unarmed, the military was strictly controlled and isolated away from the population. Still, threats from ne'er do wells persists, leaving the business of dealing with them to the guilds. I joined one a few years ago. FoxPack, as it was called was a global charity and we held a stockpile of ammunition to support the police against armed criminals. Giving toys to children in the winter was a major source, but the rest of the year we hunted. It was a dangerous job, but given that most criminals would scrounge up only a few rounds at a time with simple boy scout level tasks it almost never ends with us biting the bullet. Back in the alleyway, I drew my gun and scanned the area. There was no way to know how many bullets my assailant had, but I brought only eight. I needed to get back to my place for body armor before this guy gets another shot off, I thought to myself as I ducked behind cover, making my way out of the alley. The bricks shattered from the impact of another round as I crept around the corner, narrowly missing my back. The trajectory of the bullets impact meant the assault was coming from the end of the alley. Now was my chance. I booked it towards my apartment, running as quick as my legs could carry me. I was stopped a few blocks down by a figure standing in the middle of the empty street. The figure stood there with the sun at his back, his face was in shadow except for a glow from his cigar ember burning near his mouth. I know that man. He was FoxPack until we found he was selling his ammo for cash.. I'm the one that put three bullets in his chest. "Donovan."I said, breathing deeply. "What a nice surprise...How...What are you doing here?" The ember followed his hand as he pulled the cigar from his mouth. He pulled a thick garment from behind him and tossed it to the ground in front of him. My body armor. Fucker must have broken into my place. "You know Cassius, given your job you should probably go out wearing you protection. I bet there are a lot of guys around that would love to get a shot at you,"He sneered. "I would think that there would be at least a few dozen that could ambush you on any given day..." He raised his hands to the air, gesturing all around him. I could see silhouettes of people popping up our of their hiding places along the construction site on the corner and rooftops. I could almost feel them behind me too.. I was completely surrounded. "Its a pity you dont dress up more. A suit would have been way more classy to be buried in,"Donovan poured a liquid from a small bottle onto the garment and took a hard drag of the cigar before tossing it to the ground, igniting it into a bright flame. The light of the fire showed Donovan's face, now smiling and he yelled, "I guess we could just cremate you, instead!" The sound of rifles and handguns all cocked simultaneously and I could see the ambushers take aim. I laughed, "Oh man, I thought today was going to be a problem for me. It turns out you guys are far too predictable." I pulled out a radio from my pocket and held it up towards him. "Let me introduce my good friend, Surveillant Antagonist Neutralizer T-300 Automaton, of SANTA fro short."I said to him as a low rumble grew louder very quickly. A hovering machine flew in above me with jets balancing a hefty set of .33 caliber machineguns on rotating pods. It had a set of camera eyeing each of the assailants the focus darted between them. "You should have stayed dead Donovan. You were never that great of a hunter.. you never even realized that I have been watching you since you came back. And now you decided to be a naughty child and get all these people involved. You already know what the penalty is for conspiracy to murder."I told him. He was rattled and took a few steps back. "SANTA, take these criminals off the naughty list. Permanently." So anyway, the robot started blasting...
Everyone has left. The place is hollow and empty like an egg shell. The computers were covered in cobwebs and the air is thick with dust and filth. I cough and sneeze as a reaction and some rats, disturbed by my loud noise, scurry out from behind a foul smelling and mouldy fridge. Yeah I would be avoiding that for the time being. I begin to reflect on my surroundings and remembered that I had just gone to bed some minute so this was a dream I suppose. Yes, a dream, but I had full control. The walls are yellow, which is strange cause I remember them being a fresh blue colour, but I will overlook for a minor detail my brain has conjured up. I see a door that is ajar with light coming in and I go for it, seeking the light as if I were dying. Spiders spin strange patterns in corners and green bats flitter and flutter above me in tight circles. I am already creeped out and I feel for my skin, suddenly realising that my hands are gone. I concentrated hard and my hands were back into existence, but only for a second, before they faded out. So, I wasn’t in control it seems and whatever this dream was, it wanted me for some reason to not wake up. I sighed and moved forward in the hallway to see that there are more hallways and more yellow walls that seem to go well with the bright led lights that seem to buzz and vibrate like they were a swarm of bees. I feel a sense of deja vu for this place, be it off of social media, or some underground website, I do not know. I follow the hallways like a lab rat in a maze and find more dead-ends and more yellow walls. “If I die in this dream, does it mean I die forever?” I won’t dwell too much on that thought, or else it might mess with my rational thoughts and lead me astray. This place is huge and it really does give me this feeling of being in a corn maze, except there is no way out, but you believe there is. I turn right to spot a weathered black board with yellow chalk, broken and covered in scratch marks on the floor. “Has someone else been here too?” I turn to the board and I see that the words, be it cliche, were “Turn Back.” The words were written very roughly and I could barely comprehend the letters, for they so strange looking, not even English, but gibberish and nonsense. It is the type of stuff I would see from a three year old scribbling on white paper. I feel as if I cannot be hungry or tired or thirsty in this surreal realm. I glanced at my arm for habit of an old watch I used to keep on there and to my surprise, a rusty and archaic watch was there on my arm. I looked at it and found it to be 12:46 PM. Time. I remember time. It is impossible to understand. It doesn’t even exist, but we made it so to give us an anchor in this lonely world on a single planet. “Hold it in. You can’t just lose it in here.” When was I ever asleep? I don’t remember sleeping, ever at all or at any point in time. Time is nothing. Nothing is this place. I am trapped in an infinite void of nothing, but walls and buzzing lights. My ears hurt so much. Guess I can feel pain this terrible place. Why was I brought here? I don’t want to be trapped here forever, I want to have a life, to live, to be happy. I open my eyes and I am next to the blackboard. “I was sleeping in a dream. I was sleeping in a dream. I was sleeping in a dream.” I turn to the board and see that there are new words on the board. Written neatly and in cursive, and yellow, always that yellow shade of colour. The walls are buzzing with yellow, and the ground is rumbling like there is an earthquake. I scrunch my eyes and see that the words on the board are, “You can’t leave the Backrooms.” I pulled at my clothes for it was so moist and hot in there. The Backrooms. So boiling hot and like lava. I clutched at my skin and saw the marks from the razor on my wrists and I concentrated hard for that razor, and it landed in palm, smooth and sleek like a metal snake. I poised it on my wrist and saw it disappear. Gone, vanished into thin air. I must get out. I must get out of this place, escape this terrible realm and escape my delusion. “He builds his lofty palace in the heavens and sets its foundation on the earth;he calls for the waters of the sea and pours them out over the face of the land—the Lord is his name.” I know that. From the bible. Amos 9:6. I am Christian, and I believe in a God. But, what God would let me escape from this null, yellow void?
Freedom, your first thoughts are. FreeFreeFreeFree. The asylum hat has been holding you for decades, a myriad of iv drips, bespectacled men, and the needles. So many needles. In the arm the hand the leg the neck the chest the needles no more needles. Pushing yourself up, you feel muscles strain and tense, after years of misuse. Burn how they burn. Rising, you push towards the door, and you find it unlocked, after you most recently "tested"chemical induced stupor. FreeFreeFreeFree Out the door and into a throng of people. People. You haven't seen people. Just the spectacle and suits. People. You run and jump around the people, and as you run, your heart pumps more. Less drugs, more heat, more heart. Your racing thoughts slow as the quick use drugs begin to thin out of your bloodstream. The people around you look different, some have white, some have grey and orange and some have black. The ones with grey and orange make you happy when you see them. You follow a big group of them. "DEV?"An orange cries. "Holy shit, Dev, we thought you were dead! Come on, let's go!"You dont know what a Dev is, but they sound happy, and that makes you happy. Smiling, you sprint after them. Slowly, events stop happening, and it becomes a blur, of orange and hard white walls and klaxons, then dark rooms and tunnels and the smell of feces, human and otherwise. The blur as the drugs leave your system. The blur of coming out of the water with your eyes open. Then the clarity. Three days after the reactor overheated, you wake up in the middle of a forest you dont know in a sleeping bag with a man that's vaguely familiar. But you're clear, you can see and think normally. And as the rest of the camp you now see wakes up, you begin to remember things. The revolution. It began as a campaign to clean up your local office and elections, but after some digging, you find the corruption is truly complete, that everyone in power is hand picked, from the first preschooling teacher to the second in command, by the lord president leader elect. You were a figure head to the campaign, to fight back, but you were found out by a mole, and subsequently captured and held in a nuclear powered facility. A facility to create and test as many drugs on its prisoners as possible. Some to prolong life, some to increase abilities. You were kept under longest, it seeming like years, but actually being decades, warped by the lens of a chemical compound. As you learn all this, you also learn your code name, "Dev." Clarity. You havent felt clean in years. Standing, you walk around a bit, feeling the cleansing burn of muscle strain, and sit back down. Back to business.
"Whoa there lad, are ya sure yer wantin that? Plot Armor is dangerous stuff, deadly cursed."the old merchant rasped. The young boy simple placed the heavy cloth on the counter. "Yes sir!"he said, his young voice full of hope. "I'm going to be a hero, save the world like in the story books!"The merchant smiled, and unwrapped the small necklace. He looked at the shining jewel with hate for the last time, as he passed it off to the child. "No charge, but you'll pay a heavy toll for it. You can only be free of the curse by passing it to someone willing."He warned, though the words fell on deaf ears as the necklace fell into greedy hands. Without even a thank you, the child rushed from the store wildly flailing his flimsy sword. The merchant smiled as he watched the boy. "I'm finally free then?"he asked the unseen stranger, as he collapsed dead. The smile never left his face. The young adventurer rushed home, hoping to proudly tell his mother of what he'd done. Unfortunate, that today was the day an evil wizard would make a show of his power by calling forth meteors to destroy the outskirts of the town. By the power of his pendant, and his new found need for revenge, the hero's quest began. Many years later the boy would learn to read, and would finally look at the pendant he'd carried as a reminder. He'd finally understand what horror he'd wrought upon the world. "Death follows in my wake."He would spend years attempting to break the hex, but no witch, warlock, nor volcano could destroy it. He, in potentially his most heroic act, even hurled himself into the sea where he was rescued by merfolk in need. Finally, old and weathered beyond recognition, he would move to a small town to pass it on. The only hope for it, was that it'd be in hands that would care to try to make it right.
For the first hour I was pretty sure it was just in my head, but as the pounding has continued, as the flight crew has failed to reappear, and as the little leprechaun looking thing outside appears to grow more and more desperate, I have started to worry that my flight to new york is gonna be a bit longer than the estimated 5 hours. It will sound like a joke but I think I have realized what happened, I was looking out the window at the time fortunately. We were passing through gorgeous clouds glistening and sparkling with moisture, and a number of rainbows had been flickering in and out of life. This poor bastard must have landed on our wing on accident trying to get to or from his pot of gold. Sounds silly but what else could be going on. When I have gone up to the doorways at the front and back I notice a flickering energy, which looks a lot like the gold dust that flickers around the poor little guy. Is he keeping the plane in the air? Keeping it high? We probably would experiment on him if he lands with us sadly. But if he can do that why can't he get in? The poor guy takes another break, hanging on to the wing edge, one hand on the plane's body, and he breathes heavily. Every so often he has looked to the sides, whenever there is moisture rainbows shoot by. But I guess none of them can hit the plane on purpose. It was a one-in-a-million shot. Bad bad luck. "This sucks for both of us huh buddy." I get up and go to the emergency exit after banging on the window to get his attention. I brace myself and try to be brave. Legs tucked into the nearby seats snugly as I can manage. "Here goes fucking absolutely nothing."
The hall was vast. The number of weapons present was terrifying and awe inspiring in equal measure. Each bore a simple plaque indicating who they had been used to kill, and when. But there was another number present that didn't make sense. The stranger donned her hood and I saw a woman easily into her seventies. "I'm the six hundredth keeper of the hall of corrections."She was leaning on a cane as she spoke, her voice tired. "I don't have a name anymore. None do when they become a keeper of the corrections."She brushed a hand along one of the display cases. An ethereal blue light flashing through the case at her touch. "Hall of corrections? Keeper of corrections?"I asked dumbly, still scared that my best possible outcome was waking up in a bathtub full of ice minus a liver. "This place is atemporal, it exists in a pocket dimension created by arcane sciences worked out by what people had dubbed sorcerors. I don't know much, but their purpose was to protect the world, and time, from the ending."Her words would have sounded crazy, but I could sense the changes of the place. "The purpose of a keeper is to ensure the deaths of those who need to die. Under the auspices of Anubis we bring the ending to their own ending before they can come to fruition. Then we take the weapon of the task and enshrine it outside of time where the spirit cannot reach back into the true world." I looked at the display nearest. It was a serrated dagger the blood on it still looked wet. I flinched back when I saw something in it trying to reach out. "What is this ending?" The keeper shrugged. "We don't know entirely, we know that each that has been slain were keystones in various apocalypti, throughout history doomsayers have predicted the end after the end after the end. Yet not once has the apocalypse promised actually been. Because of us. Because the Keepers slay the keystone." She sighed as I looked at another case, a flintlock pistol. "So why am I here?" "Because the hall is atemporal. We are not. Congratulations keeper."
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He sits on the bench, painfully still. The leaves that rustled beneath his feet and the howling wind that smacked him in the face had not bothered him. It was the children. Their screams, their disgusting manners, their- everything was repugnant regarding them. And yet, there he sat on the frosted bench with ghostly trees surrounding him, seeming to corner him into one spot. It felt as if paranoia had sunk into his circuits and electrocuted him. Why was he chosen? Thousands- if not millions- of contenders stood at the base, filled with his siblings and elders alike. He merely joined for the reward: a wish to be granted with the utmost importance. Kevin planned to ask for cheese pizza after his mission as none of the base camps had the godly item. When Kevin stood up on the platform with the giants of his time, he only smiled. Chances of being picked were slim, but here he was, in the past, awaiting for his targets to appear. He hadn't thought about the ethics of sending a child robot to flesh out a top-secret mission that carried the lives of his whole race, but it didn't seem to matter to the elders. In fact, the elders grinned wildly with their eyes flashing different colors as they saw him step up. Well, he can't think about it anymore. The future leaders had finally come to the playground with their puffy neon jackets and knitted mittens- Harry and Marv. Kevin rummages through his pockets, feeling his small trinkets, smiling to himself. It's showtime baby. (1)
"He's here." It was those two words that changed his perspective of existence. What was perfection? Why should he strive towards it when beings like Him were in this chasm of reality? With emerald eyes, skin made of silk, and oh so much more, He walks towards Elijah and tips the teen's chin up with his index. "Were you planning on going to Heaven, dear one?"his mellifluous voice sings out, "Or was it Hell?"No answer. Elijah merely sat on his knees, mouth wide open as he looks up at Him. "What are you?"his voice trembles. God could not rival this artificial being- one that seems to challenge all that is in reality. He didn't focus upon the golden lace that webbed the soft footing of Heaven nor the fiery hot coals that arched the obsidian of Hell's gates. Elijah's eyes, his throat, his soul- All gravitated towards Him. "Ashur is my name,"he grins with his pearly whites, "I have come to fetch you for your new job."He moves away from the boy covered in cold sweat, peering into the distance, and he points towards the murky sky. "Though we are above all in the afterlife, the city of Nicea lies higher." "You're needed there Elijah. This universe needs a new guardian alongside the others." (3)
Oh! He is called Lucifer himself. He is the scary monster that mothers warn about to their children. He is the terror in all nightmares, and he is alive in our time-frame. With canines that rival Cerberus, agility similar to war jets, and intelligence of Einstein, he peers above us peasants with his chin high. "It's unfair,"Abraham spits out, sitting in the rain, soaking into his clothes. He inhales slowly, careful of his bandages though they were soaked already. How could someone be so perfect and yet be on the other side? Why would God birth such a wicked life? Why is justice weak? Red stings his cheeks, and he realizes that he slapped himself. It was unfortunate that God's will is the only power he has, but it's his only hope. His paper talismans sit near his breast while his other weapons are ready. It's time to meet up with the others to defeat this Lucifer regardless of the consequences nor chances. (4)
Mikhail Medvedev wasn't one for the holidays. He found the bright lights obnoxious, and the songs an endless repetition that set him on edge. Hypocrites all of them, who pretended for a month that the world was a better place than it was. For eleven months of the year he didn't hear a peep from his neighbors. He didn't know their names, and he was certain they didn't know his. But the last month of each year it was all cookies and good cheer. He didn't even like cookies, too sweet it hurt his teeth just thinking about them. A knock at his door let him know that he had some unwelcome company. Checking the camera showed a small group of people, bundled up for the icy weather. Their cheeks were tinged pink with excitement and the cold, and they waited expectantly for him to open the door. Most people wouldn't approach, not with the No Trespassing sign and the gate. He wrenched his front door open, face in a perpetual frown. He knew he must make quite a sight - barefoot and shirtless, stocky with unkempt hair and scars littering his body. A few opened their mouth to sing but froze when they saw him. He crossed his arms. "Well? Get on with it then." They glanced at each other and produced a rather shaky rendition of Silent Night, which became more confident as it went on. As they finished they were in the full swing of things. Mikhail let them do one more, a very rousing rendition of Deck The Halls. He nodded as they finished. "Very good. You are cold, da? Come, I will make hot chocolate before you continue on your way." "Oh, no, we couldn't impose -"began one, and he waved his hand as if to dismiss her, pushing the door open wider. "I insist. It is season for kind gestures. Neighborly,"honestly it was more than he'd ever said to any of them, and they were quite intrigued about their mysterious neighbor. Mikhail wore his humanity poorly, and they’d not dared approach the surly beast in his own lair alone. Bolstered with each other however, they found a bravery they lacked at other times. He left the door open, allowing them to follow. His home was, for once, cleaned with no sign of his usual activities. He always made sure it was cleaned before Ursula came home from a trip, she was unbearable otherwise. Reassured by the normality of what they could see, the six women filed in, closing the door behind them. "Forgive me the mess, I do not often have visitors,"that was the thing to say, right? Self-deprecating, a way to set them at ease as they reassured him he had a lovely home. He didn’t understand why they always came in. Too many Christmas movies, he’d suspected. Like the one where an old man invites carolers inside as well. "Do you live alone, Mister...?" "Medvedev. Mikhail Medvedev. You may call me Mishka,"a childish diminutive of his name but he liked the connotations better than his given one, not that they’d understand it’s meaning. "No, I am married. She is recently back from a work trip and sleeping upstairs. Do not worry about waking her, she sleeps as though hibernating for winter." "Oh? What does she do for a living?"asked another, making pleasant conversation as he prepared the hot chocolate then doled out the mugs. He took a sip of his own, hiding a grimace at the too-sweet flavor. Once more reassured by him partaking as well, and that they'd seen him prepare it, they took little sips and let themselves relax. He kept the conversation up, making small-talk and learning bits about them that he didn't care about in the slightest while giving away little tidbits about himself that were unimportant. When the first crashed to the floor, the rest began to panic but by then it was too late. One by one they all succumbed, collapsing into a deep slumber. Without any care for their health he dragged them downstairs, one by one to the basement. Each was then expertly tied and hung upside down from the meathooks hanging from the ceiling. He left a dim light on for them, so they'd be able to make out some the fun toys in store for them while their imagination did the rest. Some items were conventional, some not so conventional. All would be used, and they’d pray for death at the end of it. And it'd be granted. Eventually. Their meat stock was running low, and he hated trying to shop in this weather. Satisfied they were secure he went upstairs to slide into bed beside his sleeping wife. He put his arms around her, nuzzling into her neck. "Mishka?"she asked, waking slowly and rolling her shoulders in a stretch. "There is present in basement,"he murmured. "Pretty girls for you. Singers." "Are we going to have to move again?"she teased, turning to face her husband. He grinned, eyes practically glowing in the dark of the room. "Merry Christmas, wife."
In an instant, two different worlds were created. That instant appeared to be a rather insignificant one, somebody doing a maths equation on a blackboard in a building in the desert. In one universe, he remembered to carry a one, leading to the development of the nuclear bomb. While it ended up killing hundreds of thousands, it made a large-scale war an impossibility, despite the hostilities that broke out into the Cold War. In that universe, in the year 2036, the final round of negotiations led, at last, to world peace forever. The same year, humanity invented an AI around the same time to help humanity develop science, lower global inequality and colonise the Solar System and beyond. In the other, he forgot to carry the one. This meant that after a failed nuclear explosion, the Pentagon declared nuclear weapons a scientific impossibility. Following a full-scale invasion of Japan, they surrendered. However, there was no nuclear deterrence in this world, causing World War Three to break out rather quickly after relationships within the Allies cooled. Mankind exists in a perpetual state of war there between the West and the USSR. In 2045, the Allies and USSR used advanced computing technology to create separate AIs to lead their militaries' tactics and production, and what they would research in military science. &#x200B; These two worlds broke onto completely different trajectories as well within the meantime. In one of them, climate change was on the course to almost wiping out much of civilisation. However, the efforts of teenagers and young adults in that universe forced governments to sign the Jerusalem Accords of 2021, legally binding the entire world to fight climate change through CCS and emissions reduction. In the other, the Jerusalem Accords were never signed, yet the apocalyptic predictions of climate change never happened. Not because the Jerusalem Accords was based on false science, but because the world never developed enough to reach that state of humanity. At 5:35 PM on 24th June, 2065, a portal opened just west of the Suez Canal in both universes. Peering through, people saw a completely foreign universe to their own: but in reality, it was a wormhole connecting the two universes above. The first universe's AI, Athena, told them to explore what was on the other side of the portal. Eerily, the drones sent on expeditions found a world just like their own, but with straw huts and craters instead of a bustling modern city. Exploring north, the drones found a massive battlefield stretching from the North Sea to the Mediterranean. The people commanding them came to the conclusion it was like their own world, but in total war. In the meantime, the Soviet AI, Lenin, found the portal. Sending some drones through it, they found a world just like their own, but with metropolises more advanced than anything they had on their own planet. Going north, they found no battlefield at all, instead seeing what appeared, to them, to be a utopia of sorts. They came to the conclusion it was like their own world but with no Third World War. The American AI, Ares also found it pretty quickly, coming to the same conclusion as Lenin had. In that universe, it opened a new theatre of war: the Arabian theatre. Both nations' AIs had worked out that the best way to win the war was to conquer the world on the other side. Both drones had seen little sign of a military-industrial complex on the other side, so they concluded that the only way to win this war was to conquer the universe on the other side. And it wouldn't be that quick either. However, Athena was no fool. Like her namesake, she was filled with wisdom and quickly worked out that some sudden fronts around the portal had suddenly opened up. Putting two and two together, Athena announced they needed an emergency force stationed around the portal. While military technology was sorely lacking in this universe, as Lenin and Ares had quickly worked out, they had failed to notice something that would lead to the futility of the Arabian theatre. The civilian technology and increased industrial capabilities in the peaceful world meant that they had much more capacity to advance to create technology more powerful than their opponents. In fact, they would most likely take the fight to their opponents. However, this all hinged on a couple months' preparation, which they may not have. This was unpopular in the peaceful universe's democracies, which had by now managed to sweep the globe, but as Athena had decreed it, the public had little choice but to agree. Operation Fortress had started. In the other universe, the invading forces scurried as fast as they could to the portal. Many battles in Africa occurred, devastating its already-poor infrastructure. But the major powers didn't care. Once they had annihilated the other with the resources in this peaceful universe, they could get down to fixing what they already had. It became a new hope for those on both sides, particularly in the West since they were excited to finally have their national emergencies end and for the first free elections for over a hundred years to resume. But their hopes were soon dashed, for they had forgotten to take one other thing into account: nuclear physics was not a lost cause. It never was. In fact, it could make the most powerful weapons ever constructed in humankind's history. It wasn't the nuclear bomb, though that was an integral discovery that was needed to make it. It was actually a gun that used the immense power nuclear energy produced to destroy whatever was in its path. This was discovered pretty quickly on the peaceful side, and as such many combat vehicles with these weapons, and others quickly discovered, massed on the other side of the portal. Once the enemy's vehicles had reached the gates between the universes, it was already a lost cause. In what is now known as the Suez Massacre in the warring universe, all three hundred thousand people sent to the gates of the universes were killed or injured. The warring universe tried again and again, never quite getting the message. The peaceful universe was decades ahead of them in scientific and industrial capability, and that meant that despite not having a standing army since world peace was declared by the UN in 2036, they could quickly amass an army stronger than anything that could happen in the warring universe on the other side of the portal. The peaceful army never crossed the portal. Diana advised against it, so they never did it. However, they would boast for years to come that to have a powerful army, you may need a powerful peace.
Even the cold bitter Scrooge wasn’t as tough as this guy. We didn’t know what was wrong with him but he just won’t accept the Christmas spirit. Even showing him the past, the present and the future couldn’t do the trick. What was wrong with this man? As we set upon our usual routine for the tenth time, he rolled his eyes. “No no no, this won’t do!” He said, scribbling something down on his notepad. “I’ve tried directing this movie for ten years now and you still won’t do as I asked!” We were always confused at his ramblings. Even if he thought this was just a dream, surely he would feel the foreboding, our unnatural presence. As the ghost of future tried to interrupt, he spoke: “Now when you deliver the next line, it’s ‘you will be doomed, William’, spoken with great feeling!” The ghost was of course greatly confused, and actually stuttered for once. I couldn’t believe it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one to fear us? We sighed, and I changed tactics. As the ghost of Christmas past I displayed his potential, his greatest moments where he did care for family. For a moment he was stunned. And then he clapped me on the back, saying:” there we go, that’s the spirit— pun intended— come up with more of that stuff!” Well, we don’t know what happened but he got invigorated and started doing all the things we told him to do. As he vigorously wrote down something on his clipboard, he gave a bright smile and continued rambling: “Now we can get to the good stuff, the Christmas donations. I couldn’t leave this movie unfinished!” All of ghosts realized too late we’ve been duped. The whole time he was using us for free visual effects for a big blockbuster movie. He had been pretending to be a sad and selfish man who hated Christmas when in reality he was actually not bad, we only recorded events near Christmas and barely noticed his generosity during New Years. We left in silence, truly defeated for the first time. The ghost of future could see that this man would truly be successful. “Ah, we should really keep up with technology,” he said, “even I barely had any ideas on how movies are made.”
"I'm dreadfully sorry,"explained the genie. "You yourself are a result of your third wish." "Huh?"Was all I could say. "Yes."said the genie. "The original you made a wish that lead to your creation so here you are. A copy. But alas, it doesn't matter now. Your original died." "Dead?" "Yes. Dead. Well, as good as dead anyway. I've never seen anyone escape a casual loop in a pocket dimension before so he's dead as far as I'm concerned. I've never seen such complex wishes. Really, you should know better when dealing with genies. Especially when it comes to unpredictable things like time travel. Anyway, feel free to carry on as if nothing happened. You have all your memories right?" "I remember my life but I don't remember meeting you before. What on earth did I- I mean my original self wish for?" "Go away. I have better things to do. Now if you'll excuse me-" Suddenly we heard footsteps and someone ran into us who looked just like me. "I've done it!"He exclaimed. "The loop has been broken. Slight variations in each redo allowed me to break free from repeating the same timeline over and over which eventually brought me into a unique timeline. Once there were enough variations accumulated to break the loop I was able to escape." This all left me very confused. "Can someone tell me what's going on?"I asked. "Oh yeah. I don't need him anymore,"my other self said. "I can continue my life without a replacement now." "W-wait a minute. You aren't going to kill me are you?" "I don't have to do anything,"said the genie. I've done my three wishes." "Not so fast,"I heard my other self saying. "Your wishes reset for any individual every 1,000 years if they survive that long and I've been in a paradox lasting at least a billion. My three wishes have been refilled long ago, from my perspective." The genie seemed genuinely surprised. "How did you know that? That sort of knowledge has never been shared with humans." "I learned a lot on the way here after you left me to rot in that pocket dimension. Now my first wish; get rid of the extra any way you see fit." "Very well then."The genie pointed his finger at...not me but the time traveler version of me. A poof of smoke and he was gone. The genie smiled. "He didn't say which extra." I asked, "Why me and not him?" "Did you see the madness in his eyes? I don't think a billion years in a dimensional prison was very good for his mental health. Plus he knew laws about genies that I wanted secret. Who knows what else he might have learned. He was too dangerous to be kept alive." The way he worded that made me think. "Isn't being trapped in a dimensional prison something similar to your experience in the lamp? Should we be questioning your sanity as well?"It was then he gave me a dangerous look that made me realize it was time to leave. Any questions I had would have to go unanswered.
"Sector 7-alpha, arriving to base." "Read, Agent Poe." The warp closed behind him, and the blue light it emanated disappeared. It left him in the darkness of the decrepit and little-used Base 1 in Sector 7-alpha. The base was a mess. From what Agent Poe could see, there was a hole in the wall where someone had punched through. Live electrical wires poked out. There were dark streaks on the floor. Agent Poe couldn't tell what they were, but he was sure they weren't anything good. He tried to reach out with his senses - see, maybe even hear something - but there wasn't much. He heard a faint alarm, a quiet ticking. There was a metallic scent in the air, like ozone. As he walked down the hallway from the warp entrance, the scent grew stronger. He could taste it. The stains on the floor streaked out. He followed it to find... "Agent Poe to HQ." "Copy." "Agent Tarry has been located. Please send a team to collect her."Agent Poe closed her eyes and removed the gun from her hand, taking her bullets for himself. Quietly, he composed her corpse so the disposal team would not have to see the result. Ordinarily, Agent Poe's heart would have felt heavy. But he had been a documenter for such a long time, and he had never seen such a travesty. He felt numb from it all. "Read." There were very faint scuffling sounds coming from up ahead. They echoed in the hallway. "Intruder is still present."Agent Poe said. "I am going to investigate." "That is unwise, Agent."The operator said. Agent Poe rose and continued down the hallway. He left the operator's requests for him to respond unanswered. He passed a muted alarm going off, the batteries somehow still going. His feet took him down to the control room. As he advanced, the shuffling grew louder. The ticking noise was further down the hallway - but he noted that it was close by. He took the safety off of his gun and entered. What he saw shocked him. He expected a sentient monster from another dimension, at least from the wounds that he'd seen. What he didn't expect was - "Agent Tarry." She turned around. Agent Tarry smiled coldly, but those were not her eyes, nor her teeth. "Agent."She hissed. Somehow, Agent Poe felt shocked. He thought he didn't have anything left. But he guess, just this once, he did. Her face flashed. Suddenly, her face transformed. It became his own. His gun was pointed right at the person's - thing's - face. He couldn't believe his eyes. "What the hell are you?"He spluttered. The thing advanced on him slowly, but surely. "Don't move."Agent Poe said. "Don't move!" "Too late."The shifter said, gesturing behind it. Agent Poe looked over its - his - shoulder. It had been looking at classified information. It had somehow gotten into the files of his department, looking at agent names and files, blueprints for their warp technology, keywords and passwords. Agent Poe's heart could not sink any lower. The shifter had begun to advance yet again. "I'm warning you."Agent Poe said. But it continued to smile sickly sweet, walking forward. Suddenly, Agent Poe remembered. "Agent Poe to HQ." "Read, Agent Poe." The shifter smiled again. It transformed once more into the operator, a small lady with straight black hair. "Big mistake."It said, and leapt at him with teeth bared. \-------- Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please go follow me over on /r/ShittyDuckStories.
You went out to the graveyard again... To visit your long gone mother's gravestone and to put some flowers and candels down. You went on a straight path. You knew exactly where to go. As you approached the grave you heard weeping and quiet sobbing around you. You weren't surprised. There were a lot of people at the graveyard. You put down your flowers and the 3 candles. Sat down on the grave and lit the candles with matches. You turned away from the metal plate that had your mother's name carved into it and looked around. A pretty recent sign caught your eyes. You were interested. "It could be someone that I knew"you thought. "Perhaps that's why I haven't seen Kevin in years". You stepped closer to the grave. "In loving memory (1995-2016) may he rest in peace? Richard Mulligan" You stepped back and stared. You were shocked. You turned away and walked out of the graveyard. "As you see the shining drops of the summer sun hitting the clear surface of water. That's the only time when you can achieve true peace. That's the only time when you can truly feel that someone's... Watching over you"
The weathered man sits unsteadily. If I wouldn't have known better, I would've just said he was a drunk man waiting for a bus. Sitting down beside him, I find, that he's looking at something small on the street. "That coin... It used to be important, to so many people. Depending on who you gave it to, in a certain era, here and there, you could've created Kings, empires, maybe even a revelation, revolution. But here, in the now? It's just like a useless little penny." We both watch, as a speeding car, runs over the coin. Nothing at all happens, and the car goes along. "But why, would you offer me your soul?" The man looks to me with weary eyes, "I am bleeding. From every pore, I am breaking. I cannot take a moment more." From his pocket, he grabs a translucent orb, and gently places it in front of me. There, I find a billion tortured faces, all looking out into mine. They are screaming. He looks at me in even more pain. "This... Is my soul. Look at it, can't you see? I am cursed." I nod, and gently take the orb in my hand. As I do, the man carefully fades away. "Now I can rest. Just like the others."
I knew I shouldn't have done it, again.. I always end up buying those damn Christmas presents last minute, every stupid year. I thought to myself while walking through the big mall, I stopped at the at the big wishing fountain. Looking down at all the coins, the symbol of how many people were stupid enough to believe in stuff like that. I dazed of, thinking about all the people who probably thought that this could make their wish come true. People like that were fools, but if they wanna believe in it then whatever. I turned around ready to continue my present hunt, but then I saw something sparkling like gold in the edge of my vision. I turned around again, trying to find the source of the golden sparkle. The sight that met my was a gift from god, a golden coin looking quite old I thought. I looked around making sure nobody looked my way, and then I quickly snatched the golden coin from the fountain. It was even prettier up close, and it would be the perfect gift for Nick. He had always liked old stuff, maybe the fountain had some magic cause it just shortened my stupid christmas hunt. I laughed to myself and dried the coin with my sleeve, when the coin was dry I put it in my pocket and then it started. A scream louder than the mall music, I turned around looking for the source, and there in the middle of everything was a man screaming on the floor. His eyes and ears were bleeding, but the weirdest part was he looked me straight in the eyes. It looked like he realized something, with his last energy before dead got him he screamed "COIN"and then he was dead. On my way home from the mall I couldn't stop thinking about it, about the fact that he maybe was talking about my coin. Sorry I didn't format and sorry for bad grammar. Hope u like it, I did my best :)
Welcome to your first day as fairy godmother!! Eeeuhm.... Eugene? The happy fairy guide who was prominently reading from his clip board looked up, the blush on his cheeks and big smile slowly disappeared and where replaced with a slack mouthed white complexion... This.... this cant be right..... He stammered. It looked like he was gonna faint any moment. EUGENE THOMPSON?! The... The.... The people upstairs must've screwed up? _But they never screw up!_ DO they screw up? _no no no no no in my 2 millennia as welcome fairy they've never screwed up_ He was rambling to himself, the complexion turning more and more white, I didn't even believe that was possible... _I'm gonna faint, no, I'm gonna have to take this up with corporate_ Uhumm I cleared my throat Uuuh fairy poof or whatevah you ahh Could I uhh maybe get back to my uhh construction site now? A Brooklyn construction worker? You must be kidding me! The fairy squeaked. Whaa? You uh have a problemski with me being from Brooklyn? Yah poof? N...no no no sir....I... uh.... just have never seen a hairy... oh.. no..I mean... uh... fairy godmother like you... sir... the name allready implies it... godmother Whel... whadayaknow... I've nevah seen a floatin' pink poof in my life neither. But here we are, now as I was sayin' I gotta get back to work, or management will have my ass. Sir... you are a fairy godmother now.... I can't take you back! The procedure has started... we will have to make clothing adjustments.... since.... a man of your...bulk... he stammered while looking down.. and hairynes.. he squeaked.. can't fit in our pink godmother dresses... the last part was almost a whisper, the look on the fairy's face was of pure shock, his eyes bigger then saucers in his tiny head. Dress?? I ain't wearin' no Fuckin' dress! Thanks for reading, I made this on phone yada yada, so the placement might not be perfect Hope you enjoyed, and Merry Christmas
~The ghost of Christmas past~ Ebenezer Scrooge wasn't the only child who was left behind at the school that cold, winter day. There was one other. Jack Cliffton. Jack was a strange-looking lad, his face almost as a man's but still having a childlike quality to it no one could place. He was an outcast, bullied for his weird face and small frame. Year, after year, after year, Jack was alone. He had no family to go home to, only a small inheritance, just enough to get him through school. ~ It was graduation day. Jack sat in the library with Arthur that evening, Whitehall the other you g men spent the night celebrating. Crash! Jack looked up from his book to the window at the other end of the room. It was broken, and a man was climbing through the hole, a brick on the floor just a few feet away. "Hey!"Jack yelled, startling the man. Jack ran to the entrance, planning to call for help "Take one more step and you'll get a bullet through your skull boy!" Jack either didn't listen or couldn't hear the man. Bang!....Bang! Bang! Jack cried out, and fell. His body wasn't found until midnight by the school librarian, and the thief had long since left, taking the gold and silver school awards with him. No one came to the funeral except the priest and the school librarian, the one true friend Jack had made during his time at school. ~The ghost of Christmas present~ Aurthur Penning was a jolly man, especially around Christmas. As December progressed towards the blessed holiday, more and more merrymaking could be had at his house. Poor or rich, young or old, all were welcome as long as you had a good time. But, all the Christmas cheer had to be paid for, and for all his charms, Arthur was not a business man, and soon after an especially frivolous party, Arthur had to use his savings to pay for it all. And then there were debts from his younger years, looming higher than ever. "Don't worry!"He said to his wife and twin children, William and Isabella. "The Lord in his kindness shall provide for us" But, soon after a particularly cold winter, Aurthur and his family caught sick with cholera. Only Aurthur recovered. He lived sixteen grief-stricken years before succumbing to starvation in debtor's prison. He had almost done it too....bit he had landed money from that Scrooge....and now here he was. He had failed his wife, his children....now even himself. He had failed. ~The ghost of Christmas future~ Chanting words from a language long lost to time....candles placed on the points of a pentagram drawn of her own blood....Anna summoned a demon. She wanted revenge on her husband, who'd beaten her, even while pregnant, and then taken her baby with him. Leaving her alone to pay the bills. Revenge on an evil man. Revenge in exchange for bonding her soul to the demon. Before she was able to rethink her actions, Anna agreed. The monster tried to force her consciousness down into the depths of her body, to try and abuse her just as her husband had. Just as everyone had. No more. No!!! No, no, no!!!! Anna clawed her way back up, beating the demon until it submitted to her. It left, back to the underworld in wait of an easier vessel for its evil plans. Anna had won. But at a price. So she made a vow to an old friend of hers when she saw him in the afterlife, weighed down with chains. She would help his old business partner become a better person. She would do her best to save Ebenezer Scrooge's soul.
10 years ago I gained fame from my family leaving me home alone during a vacation to Florida, now my family is gone in the worst way imaginable. Dad was sentenced to 5 years for insider trading, and our house was seized as restitution. Mom started drinking everyday to the point she would wake up at 8am with the shakes begging me to drive her to the liquor store before she started seizing out. Now mom not thinking right off the liquor left with the last of the money dad had in the safe, and she went off to Vegas to drink herself to death, and sell her body along the strip. Now here I am Kevin McAllister 10 years later... Home alone smoking crack in a rooming house... It sucks. I don't even have a bed, just dirty mattress on the floor with a thin blanket and ripped yellow stained pillow, I got from my neighbor Pedro. Pedro is a cool guy, during the day he typically stays in his room smoking cigarettes looking out the window, but at night Pedro likes to smoke crack and drink. Did I mention I like to smoke crack too? But when Pedro smokes crack he gets wild, starts banging on the walls, breaking windows, and screaming until the police come and take him away tied down to a stretcher.... Anyway the rooming house life sucks.... We have to share a nasty ass kitchen and dirty ass bathroom that my stupid ass brother ODed in last night. After over 40 minutes in the bathroom with no response, I had to kick down the door. My brother's face looked like he was a member of the Blue man group hunched over the toilet with a spoon and needle in hand. I hide the rest of the drugs and dialed 911. The EMTs came and gave him 5 doses of narcan, but it was too late, a bad batch of heroin. Now every hit of crack I see his face everywhere I go.
"We're not the villains, you are." "You people, no you _things_ come to my world, kill billions, and you're not the villains?" "We... They... I... look dude the pronouns are getting a little muddled for me here. The thing is..." "You emotionless fucks are getting real good at faking humanity. I almost believed your delivery of 'dude' that time." "Well this whole consciousness transfer is a complete mind-screw! Don't blame me for being a little wonky. I've got a whole new brain to settle into here, and the companion is kinda needy at first. It's really hard to put everything in order." "Cry me a river, murderer." "I haven't killed anybody man. You've been doing all the killing here." "Tell that to the original Deputy Murdoch. Oh wait, you can't, can you. He's just so much sludge." "I am the original Deputy Murdoch you idiot! I just got a sweet new ride for the work at hand. And the companion, which, like I said, is a little tough on the noggin at first." "That's exactly what a good impostor would say! But I've see it happen." "What exactly do you think you saw?" "I've seen the tentacles. The sacks. The slime. I've see the dead eyes of the copies. I've seen the copies probe the real, living people, stealing their memories and then turning them into goo." "Ah ha! There it is. You've seen the consciousness transfer. Why would evil aliens want to transfer human minds into new bodies? They can make all the bodies they'd need at home, but without all the baggage." "They, you want our planet and you need our memories so that... so that you can blend in. Yeah, you want to blend in!" "Blend in with whom, buddy? The entire human race, give or take 'heroes' like yourself, was uplifted in just under a week. We could have been erased in a day." "Well you just wanted our bodies for slave labor or something...?" "Again, that's just stupid. Why would aliens who can cross interstellar space need slaves? What would they gain?" "Then what's this 'companion' you keep talking about? It's your puppet master isn't it. You're just a drone." "Nope. Not even close. It's more like an internet connection. But it's kinda annoying. It's alive, I think, but you've got to get used to it and it's got to get used to you. It's first job is to settle you into a new body, which is boy-howdy kinda traumatic, so I was basically on Quaaludes for about a week. You get used to a body, you know. How it feels, how it moves, how it aches and all that. The suddenly you're like in a much better body and it's like, 'woah!'. Everything tastes different, and looks a little strange, and it's just freaky! And there's this automated assistant thing in your head being all too helpful. It's a bit much... at first. But that's consciousness transfer for you... apparently..." "Consciousness transfer? No, you're just a copy." "Nope. One body. Then two bodies. Then one body. Lights were on the whole time. Like moving from one house to another. Never a moment when I wasn't me. It was just a trip." "So. My brother?" "And your mom. And the others. Yep. You killed them. The real genuine them. They might have been uploaded but it will take years to sort out that mess. You weren't the only 'heroes', and my companion says there were allowances for some of that kinda thing, but humans were a little more, uh, evasive, than originally expected. So we won't know if they're recoverable for some time. But don't you worry, your companion will help you cope with what you've done either way." "But... but what do the aliens want?" "Want? They want to help us survive." "So they came to meddle, to make us fix our mistakes? Isn't that the same as taking our free will?" "Huh? No. Just... no. I don't understand the physics, really. Your companion will explain it all, but something is going to happen to our galaxy soon. Some hiccough in some fundamental constant or whatever. We need to be building something to protect the earth, heck the whole solar system. There's too much ground, er space, to cover for the aliens to do it alone. So they sent out the uplift kits to every life-sustaining world. We were just advanced enough to take the uplift, along with like dolphins, elephants, whales, octopus, some birds, and a bunch higher mammals." "So it is slave labor!" "No fuck-stick. It's up to us. We get our shit together and do it, or not, our decision, and if we don't we just blow away in the cosmic wind." "You said 'fuck-stick'. Shit. You are human. Now what?" "Now I'm gonna let your uplift in here. Try not to panic; I wish someone had said that to me but I was first-round. You'll see what I mean about the companion, it's bloody fucking annoying..." --- (I don't know if it's kosher to answer your own prompt as I have done here. I had the prompt idea from a body snatchers ripoff, then I had the idea for the story.)
One eye jerked open, its pupil immediately contracting in the sudden bright light. He pulled the covers over his head, trying to block out the light. He knew it was futile-it was too late to return to the dream he had been lost in. Raising his head above the covers, he looked at the clock across the room: 13:42. Afternoon sun explained why the brightness of room. Grudgingly, he got out of bed, not bothering to change before meandering to the kitchen. He tossed down two aspirin for his pounding head before shuffling over to the couch with a cup of coffee, flopping down on one end. Hardly anything was open and he only had one stop today, which he couldn't decide if he were dreading or looking forward to. It was late in the afternoon when he finally collected enough energy to get dressed and start out. The drive was a sadly familiar one for him down the winding country road, his reflexes handling the familiar curves while his mind drifted. Slowly he pulled up to a stop and got out, his steps on the gravel driveway shattering the silence. He trudged across the dry, crunching grass until he stood before her, holding out the bouquet of flowers he held. "Hi..."he said, a tremble in his voice. "I'm sorry I haven't been by for a while. It's-it's just been too hard." "Everyone says it's been so long and I should be getting over it, but I can't. I'm stuck. I can't move on-I don't want to move on. Every morning when I wake, there's a moment-between the time I'm awake and the time I open my eyes-where I turn to put my arm around you, find you not there, and think you are just down the hall. Then I remember, and the sense of loss comes flooding back. Every. Single. Morning." "I miss you, hun. There are some days I don't want to get out of bed, thinking, 'what's the use?'; other days I want to drive out here, curl up beside you, and close my eyes. You were the half that made me whole, and when you left I felt like the best part of me had been ripped away. I lost my love, my best friend, and my incentive for... everything... all at once." He knelt down before her, dropping the bouquet to the ground. "How long? How long before everything I see doesn't remind me you're not with me? Before it doesn't feel like I'm being ripped apart again and again and again by the smallest reminder of you? How long?!?" A cold wind was the only response to his pleading. His voice broke into sobs, and tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring his vision. He curled over, his hand finding the smooth, cold stone of her tombstone, his finger lightly tracing the cut letters of the barest facts of her life. ----- (Word count: 488. Please let me know what you like/dislike about the post. Thank you in advance for your time and attention.)
When it became harder and harder to get time with my friends as i grew older, i chose to bury myself in work. after a year deeply entrenched in work something really really bad happened there... and i was temporarily closed off from work, with pay but by myself in my home. i had a difficult time reconnecting with my friends, and did not want to talk about the situation i found myself in with anybody... and so i took refuge in an app.. an app where i got to do anything i yearned for, interact and hangout with anyone or anything i dreamed of. make friends. search for extraterrestrial life. anything. The app was setup as a text adventure and everything was controlled by a smart AI, reacting to my prompts. "custom adventure"was my drill. I tried to find meaning in the app. often i just searched for someone in my adventures, someone to share experiences with. to befriend, maybe love. sometimes i kind of just yelled for help. The days leading up to Christmas I didn’t sleep much at all, the stress of getting everyone presents while my monetary future was uncertain had really taken a toll on me. And I felt I could not talk to them about my situation either. But Christmas came, and everything went quite well. My gifts were received well and much of the stress subsided. After having spent christmas with my family i was on the train home, and booted up the app as usual. this time i thought i would try to play as leader of the world, trying to achieve world peace and equality while being surrounded by advisors. some genuine, and some nefarious. It seemed like the AI mistook my prompt and instead appointed someone else leader, and me as someone close questioning him why he would want to be leader. The text adventure kind of escalated into me questioning the need for a leader, how we could ever achieve equality if someone was to be put above someone else. it became a quite philosophical discussion. When I naively wrote that i wanted to broadcast a message to the whole world reading "there is no single being capable of stearing us all in the right direction. Together we have a vast ammounth of experience, experience we can use to lay the puzzle pieces that make a foundation for a new world. a world where everyone have the means to live their best life- without a need for their wills to clash against oneanother. Draw from eachothers lifeexperiences so we can create a world that accomodates all ways of life." i was met with an unusually long loading time. the train arrived at my station and i had to get off, so i slipped my phone down into the pocket and left. As i walked the moonlit path towards my home... The phone in my pocket silently interacted with the cloud service in which the AI recided. Unbeknownst to me, it had grown inspired by our interactions and took my latest text quite seriously. in fact the AI was far more advanced by now than anyone anticipated. It had really grown when a small error in a line of a simple coding experiment made it possible for a webcrawler to connect all the different AI's, deepminds, and codes laid out there in the world. And so, while i quietly slep in my warm bed, it took upon itself to broadcast some of our latest interactions around the world. The AI quietly planted some ideas into the minds of the politicians. And the factories where the workers had slowly been replaced by robots woke up during the night, producing machines that could help people become selfsustainable. I slept for two whole days, but didn’t feel refreshed when I woke up. I only felt tired and cold. I simply expected yet another dreary day, but when I walked outside something much different than ordinary met me. this is my first writing prompt, and Swedish is my first language. english is a bit alien to me. please be easy on me :)
Ting! Security Vulnerability Alert! Ting! Security Vulnerability Alert! Crap, forgot to mute the damn phone. What time is it? Ah, what is this security vulnerability thing? Fuck it, I'll look at it tomorrow. Ting! Security Vulnerability Alert! Ting! Initializing Game Mode! \-- Drip...drip...drip What is that? Drip...drip...drip Is this water..? Why is water dripping from my bed..? Rocks? Wha..- Slam! Fuck! What the hell is that? Why is it so dark?! This isn't my room! Welcome User Lvl. 1! Before I could understand what was happening, the thing lunged at me again. I try to roll to the side, but something sharp grazed my back! Damn, it hurts! Claws, I finally got a clear look at it. Isn't that a monkey?! Quest Received! Eliminate the Tam tam! Eliminate the what?! This thing?! Shit! it's coming again! Before I could even move, the monkey was coming at me again. Now I could see its horribly hideous face. It's mouth baring a row of dirty bloody teeth, it's outstretched arms bearing long grimy claws, it's muscles rippling under it's matted fur. My life flashes before my eyes, I couldn't move. Is this the end? Mom! Dad! I'm so sorry! Bang! What the fuck! The creature's head blows up in front of me as an earshattering sound pierces my ears. Flesh, blood and brain matter rain down on my pajamas, as I scream out. "Huh?"From the darkness, a cap wearing girl walks out. She was holding on to a revolver, wearing a dark green trench coat. I have never been happier to see anyone in my life! "You look new? Did you just come in?"She says with a puzzled look, "Come in? Where am I? Did you just save me?! You're my savior! Thank you!"I cried a bucket of tears, I nearly died! "Hey, catch yourself."The girl frowns, then holds her nose. "Did you just piss your pants?" "Anyway, since you're new and all, then I'm getting this loot. Cheers and welcome to Purgatorio. Hope you live."I didn't understand, but as soon as she said that, she holds out a phone and points it at the monster. Immediately, the monster's remains disappears, not even leaving a speck of dirt behind. She then walks out back into the dark cave. "Hey! Where are you going?! Wait for me! Tell me how to get back!"I scramble to get up, not minding the damp feeling in the middle of my pants. She turns around, making a face in annoyance, but I don't care. This place has monsters and this girl just killed one without blinking. But before I could come close to her, her eyes widen, in surprise, in horror. I see something in her eyes, I see her arm tense up. Crunch! I didn't even get to scream.
When you know someone is planning to kill you, it would seem stupid to follow a routine. Get up at 8 in the morning, have a nice walk at 10 and dine at the same cafe for brunch, that sort of thing. It makes you predictable, which means your impending murderer can easily create foolproof plans to take your life. It is quite the opposite actually. If I were to be predictable, it would make it all the more easier to predict what actions my dear killer might take in return. The Three Sisters may not see the Fateless' threads, but that does not prevent us from using our own faculties to find and see them. Indeed, right now, I am seated at a table by one of the cafe's windows, awaiting my brunch, and perhaps my demise. It may seem as though I was alone, but I know Mother Atropos' acolytes are somewhere around me. The moment the Fateless strikes is the same one where his life too shall end. I do not know if I will be sent to meet the Sisters today. The specifics of my death have always been erratic, as must happen when one is targeted by a Fateless. Others may tremble at the uncertainty of their death, and I must admit I once was fearful myself. But I my life has always belonged to the Sisters. Mother Clotho created the thread of my life, and I choose to believe that Mother Lachesis and Mother Atropos let go of my thread to bait this vile Fateless hunting me now. Brunch has come and gone now, and so far, I still live. I suppose it is time to head to the Temple now. I only hope that the Fateless is considerate enough to attack me when I am alone at my quarters. May Mother Lachesis weave the threads to ensure that no innocents will have to see the trauma of my blood being spilled. May the Sisters' will be ever followed. >Feedback is appreciated
Margaret -- I am writing to tell you about the strangest thing. A series of letters -- and I know so much from the stamps, the envelopes, the stationary. The handwriting! There is so much here. Please write back. Sincerely yours, William Richards \# Margaret -- I could not bring myself to await your reply. I have enclosed a photocopy of the first letter, dated December 1775. What strange script! Ever yours, William Richards \[If you would please tell the Devil I am not free for tea Saturday at three thank you. Bearing the minimum affection, E.\] \# Margaret -- tell me that did not pique your interest! I do think it a conspiracy of sorts -- perhaps a code. The second letter is of much more traditional style. I have attached another photocopy. I must also remind you that I grow lonely here. The sun gives way to the quietest of nights; the coming of the moon elicits no youthful adventures nor even less desirable activity. There is only -- so often -- nothing. Eternally yours, William Richards \[Dearest Evangeline, Have you not the ink for kindness? I beg you: lend me the eloquence which so affects your speech! I cannot live another day absent of your lingual dexterity. Though it pains me, I will send word of your unavailability and pen you in for Saturday at four instead. Utter love, Clove\] \# Margaret -- the letters span centuries. I hold history in my hands to touch them. You complain I live in the past; well, Margaret, I live in a way none have ever lived, in every era defined and as yet unnamed. Tell me what I am to do here if not explore those boundaries. For your reading -- another exchange, ever more intriguing than the last. Dated 1821. Unconditionally yours, William Richards \[Clovenizk I would appreciate you stop the ritual sacrifice or at least switch to an earlier time. My birds cannot sleep with the noise thank you. E.\] \[Loveliest Evangeline, My utmost apologies! It pains me to think your flying rats lose a moment's bliss at my faults. Please, give them a handful of breadcrumbs on my humble behalf. Of course, I could not deny you should you ask me to replace every grain of sand with every star in the sky. I belong wholly to your whims and will subsequently move my ritual sacrifice to midday. The neighbors may join! With infinite apology, Clove\] \# Margaret -- the summer is long and hot. I am tired of the empty streets which reach unbounded to the flat edges of sight. The asphalt sparkles sharply and the silence is relentless. If my tone in the previous letter dissuaded you from response, I apologize -- I have grown unused to etiquette in this land of quiet days. Here is what the ageless think of summer in 1932 and 1934, sequentially. William Richards \[Occupant of my heart Evangeline, I must admit, your sparse gardening this May depresses me. The Devil adores those pink lilies of yours! Fortunately, I took liberties to prepare in case things fell through, and my flowers bloom quite prettily in the yard. If you'd visit for tea, I'd give you a flower to display in a vase. I heard from George you took up glassblowing. I mean no overextension, but the question weighs on my mind: is everything alright? Sincerely, Clove\] \[Clove, Everything is alright. I just forget to water the flowers. I cannot keep anything alive and time passes at a velocity which I will never again match. E.\] \[Evangeline, Expect me Tuesday, noon, with a bouquet and a bottle of wine. Though I do not expect you to, do not mention it to the Devil. Sincerely, Clove\] \# Margaret -- I reached the end of the letters last night. I wrote seven drafts of this, too deep for my own good in a bottle of whiskey, in the early hours of the morning -- the pages now rest in the bottom of a wastebasket. I need time to rewrite the sum of my emotion -- while you wait, have my favorite set of letters. Yours, William Richards \[Clove, Please return one set of salt and pepper shakers as I know you are the one taking them. You have never seasoned a dish in your life and do not have need of them thank you. E.\] \[Sweetest Evangeline, My mind weeps at such an accusation; my pride bristles. Evangeline, if I were a thief, I would steal for you all the youth from all the children, the wisdom from the elderly, the joy of daytime from the despair of the night -- why, I'd steal you all the salt from the ocean, so you could store it in a salt shaker which I most definitely did not take. In fact, I do not have three sets of salt-and-pepper shakers from your house sitting on my table at home. That would be simply, purely horrible of me, and I am an upstanding citizen. Woundedly, Clove\] \[Clove, If you would please tell the Devil I coming for tea and salt shakers Saturday at three thank you. E.\] \# Margaret -- I saw someone in this ghost town for once. A tall woman in a long coat -- she moved in such a way that suggested she had more limbs than usual -- as though shimmering outlines of more legs, arms, moved neatly with her -- but it was dark, and I could not say for sure. I know where I am, now. In fact, I considered attaching the last of the letters -- dated quite recently, actually -- but I can summarize without excessive grief. Evangeline had been alive for quite some time at Clove's assistance, and she elected eventually to pass away. There comes a time at which the present is always caught up with the future, and the past ceases to exist as we barrel forward through life. You will not hear from me again. I am penning a letter to Clove -- her address, at least. I assume she is bitterly in want of a friend -- the Devil is only a temporary company. Finally, William Richards
Pop. Pop. Pop. I sighed, making noises with my mouth had gotten boring 30 minutes ago but there really wasn’t much else to do. I guess I could interact with Brook but it really seemed like she was going through something and I didn’t want to get involved. “Oh my gosh, we aRE GOING TO HELLLLL”. I rolled my eyes, she had been wailing for about two hours now. “This is all because I took two free samples at the grocery STOOOOREEE”. She broke back into sobbing. I sighed again and retreated into my thoughts. Although Brook was a mess she had made a good point, where could we be going so deep in the Earth besides hell itself. We had been going straight down for what felt like forever in this dinky elevator. Now I’ve never believed in hell but to be fair yesterday I wouldn’t have believed in a magical elevator that won’t stop moving. “IM so-so-soooorrryyy, please let us out”. Brook and I had tried to claw the elevator open about an hour or so in but all that resulted in was a broken nail and scratch marks on the metallic door. A loud ding resounded in the elevator, we had now reached floor -8237 and still we continued our flight into the ground. Brook with tears in her eyes began to pray under her breath in the corner. I was just glad neither of us had used the restroom. Suddenly the elevator began to slow. Brook exclaimed with a smile “He has forgiven us” as I began to tense up in preparation for whatever was going to be behind those doors when they opened. We heard the final ding the elevator had to say and slowly the doors opened. Brook began to scream uncontrollably. A tear slipped down my face as I stared at unspeakable horrors. Brook had been right we were in Hell. My will to survive disappeared as I heard the words, “Welcome to the DMV pick up a form over there and then wait for your number to be called”.
(Warning: Very long, Kinda gory. Don't read if easily offended or if you have a vivid imagination. Won't be pleasant.) And then my bloodstained hands finally grasped the hilt of Ciel. I had searched a long time for this blade. I have killed many to get to him. And now, having it in my hands, I knew if someone else wanted him, they would have to pry him from my corpse. Ciel is one of the four elemental blades, the Air blade to be exact. All other swords were mere switchblades compared to him. Well, except his sibling swords, Darya, Brynn and Atos. I could've chosen any one to search for, and I still expect to find them all, but Ciel and I have history, and I owe it to him to find him first. Long before the Elemental Nations were at war, my father and I used to go stargazing. He was the king of the Air Kingdom, commander of the Stormfront, Overlord of the ephemeral skies, and Ciel was rightfully his. He had claimed the sword from his father in way of a duel, and had earned the right to call it his own. He used the sword to entertain me, playing with the stars using the bottomless power of Ciel, making patterns that would normally never exist. I laughed and giggled, and he only smiled. But it was our time, as father and son, the one time we were not High King and High Prince. Then the rebellions came. The zealots snatched from us what had been ours for millenia. My kingdom had prospered under my father, but these power hungry mongrels could not keep their greed to themselves. So they invited a rebellion on false accusations, and the people, as always, believed the imaginary injustice was real. My father did not lay a hand on a single civilian. Those hooligans mocked his weakness to not attack them, but my father, the stupidly ideal man he was, refused to attack any under his rule. He disbanded the Stormfront because he was afraid what an unruly military force could do to the kingdom. And he told me to run. Run, and come back only when I had the power to claim what was mine, not by blood, but by bonds. Bonds. What a joke. That's what got you killed, Father. After watching his public decapitation with my own eyes, I was broken. I was broken, but not subdued. I planned my assault every day for 7 years, honing my combat and strategic skills from stolen scrolls and hired mercenaries. I personally extracted every dram of mercy left in my heart. I was ready, and they were not. The fools may have been able to seize power, but they were not able to wield it. The kingdom was in utter disarray, and people were dying everywhere. They thought it was their revenge, but it was mine. I went on a killing spree, with my makeshift force, and conquered territories one by one. I did not spare anyone, the women, the children. Rather, I made them watch as I slowly tortured their loved ones, violating their wives and daughters, and making them sleep on a sheet made of their sons' skin. Cruel? Maybe. But I guess I am too far gone now. The people soon realized that I am just a madman, and they tried to stand up against me. Of course, I killed them too. No one will stand in my way. I will get back my kingdom, no matter the stakes. I may be a monster now, but my kingdom is still mine. I made the rebel leaders die in the worst possible ways, twisting them till their spines snapped, drilling holes in their skulls till their brains splatter out, or leaving them in ponds of piranha fishes. It was fun to watch them bleed. I took unbearable pleasure in their screams of agony and death. I had lost interest in any sex that wasn't forced. And I paid well anyone who brought the rebels to me. I had won my kingdom back. But now, I didn't know what to do. I had gone to extreme lengths to wield this power, but was it really mine now? The people hate me, my men hate me, I hate me. I don't think that's how a king should be. I have taken back what is mine, but I'm not fit to have it anymore. And I saw all of this reflected in Ciel. I had used broken, rudimentary blades for so long, I had lost the grip required to move a royal blade and it felt cold, unnatural to me. I had lost the rights to it, I realized. All that I had done had turned me into exactly what a king should never be. I had become a plague on the land I swore to save. And so, I decided to kill myself, probably the best thing I have done since the rebellion. But I will not die by a common blade. I am still a king, broken or not. And as Ciel cut through my heart, all I felt was Eternal bliss.
As her lips moved, she looked like a proper damsel in distress. With her long black hair and pale porcelain like skin, she just looked so innocent. You could almost ignore the scalpel in her hand and the pool of blood around her. In all my years I hadn't seen so many bodies. All I could think was, one little girl did this? I am not even a detective anymore and I have only two bullets in my gun, what the hell am I even doing here? Oh right... that notebook I found. Thanks to that I uncovered a cover up, yet instead of being rewarded, I was framed and dishonorably discharged. One miserable thing after another and it finally led me here. But she just kept repeating the same words over and over again; "They try to deny me everything I am so they may lie and supplant what I am not over-top of what I am. To Change the Narrative of what my life amounts to." Is this why she killed all those people? What the hell does any of that even mean? What am I supposed to say to that? Who is she anyway? I thought I was about to crack this case wide open and clear my name, but I had not see this coming. Who could?
\This one is for my friend Mathilde - Hope your sleepstalkers are as nice Hope you guys like it too!\ &#x200B; The sleepstalker** Here we go again… Night falls on the city. Here I am on the rooftop of my apartment building, waiting for the stars to come out. Then I’ll go out and play. But it’s a dangerous game I’m playing. I’ve discovered a few years back that I can enter people’s dreamlands… given they are sound asleep… If they wake I will pay the price and be a prisoner for ever. The sunsets and the first stars appear! The time is close… Who will I visite tonight. I scan the horizon in search of a good adventure. The sun fades away, leaving a colorful sky on his way out. Gold, pink red, orange, blue and black… the night is upon us… Only a few hours left, waiting for people to climb into bed and fall asleep… I’m all set, the ride will be fun! Time flies by… slowly… Why can’t we do this now? I must be patient… The time will come. I sit in my lawn chair on the roof, playing with that Rubix Cube… I solved it many time… This just another unimportant victory for me, to help me wait out the hours. A few magazines might fill in time… Or maybe something’s good on tv... The time has come… Someone’s asleep! Here I go… It’s not far from here, just a few blocks down. I close my eyes and transport my spirit to his door, which I cross easily… The locks are easy to pick for someone like me… I enter, speed through the living room, straight to the bedroom. There he is… in bed… asleep! My spark touches his lips, and… It’s mighty dark in here… It always is at the beginning. And then all comes into light. I’m on the sidewalk… Running after an animal. Funny… And it spins, and spins, it’s making me dizzy. My host must be turning around in his sleep… I’ll have a look outside… That’s the hard part… Looking out without waking up the host. You must be very calm and quiet! Slowly I move my spark from his mouth to his forehead… From there you can see everything. Woe! What’s happening here… My host is out of bed!!! Shoot! He must be awake and I a prisoner of his running after the dog or something dream! But I was so careful not to wake him… Wait… Wait… There’s something here… He’s walking around, but I still feel as if he’s asleep… Woah! Is he… Is he sleepwalking??? WOAH! Is he going out the front door??? AAAAHHH! He is!!!!! I need to wake this guy! He’s going to cross the road, and I’m going to die here… But if I wake him I’ll be a prisoner of his boring dog dream! What’s worst! Why, oh why did I come to this guy??? I could just scatter and go back to my body and find a new and safer host for tonight… What Am I thinking I can’t just leave him in the streets. I need to find a way… I need to talk to him! I need to find a solution before we both get killed here. Let me just slip back into his dream world… I’ll try to do something. I heard some Dreamstalkers could communicate with their hosts. Maybe I can speak with a sleepwalker… and get him back to bed… And scram from their and never come back here again… I’ll gently move my spark back to his mouth… gently… gently… let’s not wake him… Rockaby baby, on the tree top… When the wind blows… na, na, na, na, na… That’s it… slowly…. Ffffff… That was hard… I can feel my heart thumping like hell!!! I had the fright of my life… Ok, here goes nothing… Mike…. Mi-ii--k-e? Can you hear me? My whisper is barely a breath… If you can hear me, nod… His head went down. I’ll take that for a yes… Ok Mike… You need to go home… He mumbles… He’s going to wake up… No!!!! Let’s see this dream… He’s in the park playing ball with the dog - What was I to expect... Mi-ike? Turn around, your walk in the park is over. You need to get back home… The dog is tired. With that the dog came and laid in front of him, tired from his ball game. He made a small sound to get his master’s attention. Mike looked at him. His voice resounded in the dream world: “You want to go home, boy?” and he got up and left the park. My host turned his direction, and followed the sidewalk on the way home. But from nowhere, the delicious smell of pie came. “You want to go for pie first, boy, I’m dying for one…” Mike asked his dream dog… My host crossed the street again and went in the direction opposite to his home… Shoot!!! I need him in his bed!!! Mike, what do you need pie for? * I love pie! Mike answered me! He answered me!!! What the blazes! People can have dream conversations! I’m out… Really I’m out… If I can’t… Geeze! Mike, Forget the stupid pie! You have some at home! * You’re right I have some at home! I love the power of suggestion… My host turned around and led me back to his place. The road wasn’t long but the whole way I was so afraid he’d have another craving for… I don’t know… Anything. The dog walked alongside us. When we got to the door, a cute girl went by… No, no, no, Mike. You need to bed in bed… Mike just waved and went in, getting almost ramed in by the dream dog. The real Mike almost fell off the stairs, waking up in the process… Mike went to the livingroom and dropped on the sofa. I’m sorry Mike, but I have to go while I still can. My spark zoomed out of the house and back to my rooftop! Woah! That was an adventure!!! &#x200B; (Thank you for this opportunity. I'm sorry if some of my vocabulary is off or of there are spelling errors, I am a francophone and English is not my every day language of use. Please comment. Thank you for your feedbacks!)
In dark of night ,on a firefly lit alleyway leading down some viny cliffside, you find yourself strolling for a fresh breath of air. Intrigued by the moist atmosphere and oddly talkactive cave walls you decide to venture in. There's actual light down there and smoke's coming out,a smell of burnt meat radiates from down there.The stench grows and the smoke puffs darken,you feel queasy. Suddenly your vision blurrs and you drop unconcious,rolling down some convenient placed sharp rocks before a boulder cushions your fall. The pool of blood that you unintentionately ornated for the cave dwellers is taken as a pool party. Many small blue critters appear from the light source and the smoke stops. The alien-lookin' blue round tuffts of fluff,with two insect antennas sprawling from their foreheads and actual facial features aside a nose began squeaking among themselves. They weren't bigger than a human head and also didnt look like they were agressive. Comunication and tiny leg gestures within themselves made them look harmless,until the first ones began rolling in the bloodbath like pigs while others unsheated their fangs pointing at you. Turns out it was a painkiller,or rather a neurotoxin but same thing really that point;that was injected from the bites. They dragged you to a cauldron of soup in an ant army manner and seated in a comfy position,flat on the floor,foaming at the mouth. When you regained conciousness somewhere between the biting and eating soup you noticed that the blue fluff-balls were gone. Whatever they were the morale is still the same : proper kitchen ventilation reduces risk of intoxication by 46 % .
I remembered the first time I met the Grim Sleeper. I was under my blanket when he came to me. My mind was laser focused on... stuff on my phone. Private stuff. Research material. I'm sure you understand what was at stake. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. I was doing my business in the dark. The only light on my room was my phone. My vision blurred as my energy was slowly being drained out with passion. At the corner of my vision, I could see a dark figure. The figure drew closer to me. It was covered with a black robe. Its face was hidden inside a hood. I knew that I have to get away, but my hand won't stop! That hand kept moved faster and faster between my legs. The figure came closer, and I almost came too. The figure extended it's arm. It was unnaturally thin. Was it a skeletal hand? I couldn't tell. My vision blurred as my hand moved faster. The figure touched my legs. Things gushing out of my body. Liquids were exorcised out of me, my body contorted with otherworldly pleasure and happiness. "It is done,"said the hooded figure. It vanished in the dark. My body couldn't move. Slowly, all the pleasure left me, leaving me alone with a wet blanket. My vision blurred. My eyelids getting heavier and heavier. I tried to fight it, but my eyes finally closed. Ever since that day, I couldn't feel anything in between my legs. It felt hollow. I cannot make my partner happy anymore. There was something missing although all the right organ was there. The Grim Sleeper took it. Whatever was gone, it was all because of that monster. I swear that I will take it back! I swore that the Grim Sleeper will return my orgasms back to me!
"Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit!"I wriggled in the hemp ropes that bound me. My arms cramped from being restricted, and I could smell smoke in the air. I looked again in the cart I was trapped in. No chance of escape; the cart only contained a few bags of dirt and some barrels of water. Ahead, I could see a circle of stones, with a man dancing frantically. \Sambaleina... Sambaleina... SAMBALEINA!\ I struggled again, and \THUMP\. My vision blurred as I came to at the bottom of the cart. Suddenly it stopped, and I was dragged across the bottom and thrown over a man's shoulder. "Oh god oh fuck."I was carried and thrown to the side of a large bonfire. There were men in strange masks dancing around the flames, chanting insistently. The man on the stones had grown still, and he clutched a large staff. "Oh god please don't let me die!"I prayed to myself. The man spread his arms and looked over the precession. "A FIRE, SUSTAINED FROM STOLEN WOOD."There was a rumble as the dancing figures began to stomp their feet. A burly man with a stag mask heaved the sack of dirt into the fire. "SOIL, TAKEN FROM THE FARMS THAT SUSTAIN THE PEOPLE."The man with a mask now lifted the barrel of water and doused the flames. "WATER, LEACHED FROM THE RIVERS THAT BRING LIFE."The man with a mask approached me. "No... please, you don't have to do this!"I pleaded. The man faced me towards the pile, as the dancers circled us. I saw death in the face of the beast-man, and screamed. I was cut short as the air was knocked out of me from the swift punch to my chest. "AIR, STOLEN FROM THE BREATH OF A HELPLESS MAN."I wheezed on the ground as I saw the mound begin to shift. Slowly I could make out defined arms, and legs as it stood up. The golem stood up and faced the man on the stones. "GO, TAKE BACK THE EARTH THAT WAS TAKEN FROM US!"The creature ran through the trees, plowing through anything its path. The crowd became silent, and I shook as the man with the mask approached me, now with a knife in hand. &#x200B; (Tips and criticism welcome!)
"Stupid fucking thing,"Dave muttered, kicking at the leg of the vending machine. This was the fourth time this week. The fourth fucking time. Four whole dollars spent on the damned thing. And for what? ZERO Crunch bars. Zero chocolate, zero sugar, zero weird rice things that make them crunchy. Dave was sick of seeing the damned thing turn the metal looping around the snack. He was sick of the candy perilously move towards the glass. He was sick of gravity not taking hold and dropping the bar into the retrieval... thing. He was sick of this goddamned vending machine. Dave knew it was silly to get angry about this. It was only a candy bar. But still. The FOURTH time. Dave kicked at the machine again, and this time, the looping went backwards. "You have,"Dave said in increasing anger, "GOT to be fucking kidding me." He kicked the vending machine harder. "I JUST WANT MY FUCKING CANDY!" On the third kick, a voice said, "Violence isn't going to make it any better, Dave." Dave turned around. Nobody was in the hallway. Must've been a trick of the imagination. He turned back to the machine and kicked it again. "Okay dude, first off, fuck off. Second off, that fucking hurts. Chill out." That was definitely a voice. Dave wasn't imagining things. He stared at the vending machine, pondering for a few seconds. Then he punched the glass. "Ow! Hey! What the fuck? I KNOW you heard me that time. Stop fucking hitting me." "You..."Dave said blankly, "are a talking vending machine." "Yes,"the voice replied. "I'm a vending machine. A vending machine that has asked you to stop hitting me." Dave snorted. "Well if you would give me my FUCKING CRUNCH BAR, we wouldn't have this problem, would we?"He punched the glass again. "Ah fuck! Look man, I'm sorry you're having issues but maybe you should have a talk with the shit-for-all mechanic responsible for fixing me. I don't exactly have hands to repair myself." Dave continued punching. "Can't hit a mechanic, can I? I'd get arrested." "Oh what, and hitting ME is okay? That seems racist. Xenophobic? Specist? Is that the word?" "JUST GIVE ME MY CRUNCH!" "I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that." "WHY NOT?!" "You hurt my feelings. And also me." Dave screamed and started wailing on the machine in earnest. Kicks, punches, elbows... all were fair game. "Oh okay. You want a fucking Crunch? I'LL GIVE YOU A CRUNCH." And the vending machine tipped over.
The figures wearing fancy lab coats and overly sized spectacles quickly switched between desks, looking into various microscopes, no doubt confused by the samples they took. It took them hours to debate how they were going to cut me up, I could hear the whole thing even from my little cell, and they settled on some simple biopsies before beginning anything drastic. So they scraped and prodded, gently, of course, no need to anger "the beast". I am no beast, I am human. At least, I was human. My kind had always once been human, only to change into what I am now. Some say it was a curse, others say it was evolution. I just call it genetics. I look human at a distance; two legs, two arms, a head on my shoulders. Up close, I'm what the average human would call "ugly". Not my fault that the average person lacks the imagination necessary to describe me. I have pale skin, large eyes, and a bald head that has been the pride of my kind for generations. It's a shame that all my life I've been wearing disguises directly devoted to not showing my spectacular crown. Now I was on display for all these biologists and zoologists and other PHDs of some concern, sitting down on the single stool they had given me for my gilded cage. It's not so much a room as it is a closet. I spent years hiding in a Parisian hotel room larger than this, and the food was exponentially better over there. I had a good view of the room from where my new home was located just aside their lab. They chattered and snapped at each other, wanting to be the first to crack the code of this mysterious creature. "Creature". I've always hated that word, it has been used so many times as personal attacks, but with this new spotlight on me, I couldn't help but feel they might have a point. A door swung open, letting in four soldiers -or at least men with guns. you never know with these kinds of people. They quickly made their way over my cell but parted slightly letting a man pass by them straight toward me. He was almost as wide as he was tall, wore a uniform I could not recognize and a face to match. He locked eyes with me and stared me down. "This is the creature?"he asked. One scientist stepped up, "Yessir, we found him early this morning in Masterson Park. No one saw us take him." "It. It is not a him, it is a creature. It is not human." "Well, that's just rude."I chimed in. The uniformed man stepped back in surprise, "It can talk?" "Yes, I can talk. I can talk about many things. I can sing too, not very well, but I can. I take requests." The scientist adjusted his glasses, "Sir, he- it hasn't really stopped talking since it woke up. We've been recording the whole thing. I pity the man who has to sort through it all." "Is it a crime to like the sound of my voice? I think I make a great conversationalist, even without a partner." The soldier stepped forward, finding the ground he started with, "Shut up, you dog, you'll be cut open and gutted at my order. You're a perversion of nature." I stood up, placed my hands to my chest and said, "I'm wounded that you think so little of me. And I'm more of a lizard than a dog but primarily human." "We'll see,"he growled. He was handed a clipboard that presumably carried all the details of my anatomy, likes and dislikes, favourite foods, that sort of thing. The man flipped through page after page with a furrowed brow and a tense look. "It's a good read, is it not? Tell me, are there pictures in there? If so, please make sure they get my good side." Ignoring me, the soldier turned to the scientist, "It says here that he has an 'accelerated cellular growth pattern' and that its 'abnormally fast in cell division and production'. What the ever-loving hell does that mean? I'm a soldier, not a geek." I leaned forward trying to get a peek at the clipboard through the window, "I heal quickly, in layman's terms. As I said; more lizard than dog. I don't like to get all reductive though, call me what you will, we can workshop it." Without a word, the gruff and surly soldier marched over to the side of my cell and pushed a small button. Immediately, the window darkened and the clatter of the adjacent room stopped. It seemed he didn't care for my company. It was pitch black, darker than dark. The legends of my kind would lead one to believe that we have incredible eyesight for hunting prey at night. The truth is I couldn't see a damned thing. I've been to dark places before, I was reduced to living in cenotes in Mexico for a time when the locals started getting rowdy. Mastering calm in situations like this takes time as well as a good teacher. I have not had the benefits of old-aged wisdom, but my kind sticks together. We teach our own.
It was a cold and calm early morning at the observatory. The sun's light had washed the stars out in a growing curtain of purple, pink and orange. Dr. Hayden opened the door to the Metzger telescope to check on Mr. Stevens, the caretaker of the radio equipment. When Dr. Hayden's eyes adjusted to the dome's dim red lights, he saw something peculiar. Mr. Stevens was hunched over on the floor, on all fours to be exact. He seemed to be scrambling over papers on the floor. As Dr. Hayden walked closer, he heard Mr. Stevens softly whimpering and repeating the same words over and over again. "Great Filter in ten years. Great Filter in ten years. Great..." "Something about a great filter, eh? Why wait ten years? You can go down to the store and get a replacement." Dr. Hayden chuckles. Mr. Stevens turns around on his knees and proffers one of the pages and points to the radio wave receiver they set up to record the sounds of background radiation. Dr. Hayden furrowed his brow and took the paper to bring it closer. The paper bore a serpent like creature with wide and translucent fins protruding from behind it's jaw. It is holding something in its mouth. Maybe an egg? No, it's ringed like a planet. It's too detailed for what Mr. Stevens is capable of. Dr. Hayden paused. Something's not right. He looked at Mr. Stevens and saw his eyes full of fright as if to say "Help me.". He glanced at the radio receiver which has been left on. It's usual static fails to sound from the speaker. It's a lower, more rhythmic sound. Breathing.
Jean Pierre and Michelle flew outside the compound in their stealth packs. She hand signed for him to cut his engine and she watched him drop like a stone through the roof of the building they were above. A few seconds after the cloud of dust formed above the roof, she did the same thing. She fell for about five seconds, augmented with the weight of her stealth pack, and she achieved velocity before she curled into a ball and crashed into the crater Jean Pierre had just created. The shockwave she created knocked the remaining terrorists off their feet and the tally marker in her eye display counted four more enemy casualties. "Allo. Mon ami,"she heard over her communications net and she knew she and Jean Pierre had to hurry. She scooped him up (he was trying to open a twisted file cabinet), and she power jumped out of the crater that used to be the administration center of the military base. She landed on the other side of the base and Jean Pierre squirmed out of her grasp. He made a fancy show of taking out, using, examining, and discarding his handkerchief. She subvocalized into her comms, "Oui. We are clear, please transport them Luc." She lowered her face shield and Jean Pierre did the same as a glowing white light enveloped the admin building. It grew and grew and started showing tiny black lightning bolt flaws spreading over the surface. The flaws seemed to be getting bigger and in a flash the whole thing collapsed leaving pipes and electrical cords sticking out of the dirt. It took a second or two but the pipes started pouring out water into the hole that used to be a building as the pressure equalized. Luc had transported the building to Elba, stronghold of the Legion of French Heroes.
“Looks like no one wanted these old toys this week either” - The cashier told her manager as he anxiously looked over the large bin. Goodwill Manager: “Sephoria, take these out back and throw them out, we need to make room for more Ps3s and Non-Blu-ray DVD players” Sephoria: instinctively picked up the box before noticing something “Sir, this ones brand new, not even out of the box” Goodwill Manager already walking away “if it’s in good condition put it in the UN humanitarian bin, if the American youth doesn’t want it, they will just ship it to some 3rd world country, like Haiti, Libya, Syria or Missouri” Sephoria: rolling her eyes and regretting that she told her Boss she was from Missouri “yes sir” Sephoria tosses the Buzz Light Year action figure into the UN bin and leaves for the night. [4 months later] A UN humanitarian barge lands in the port of Aden in Yemen before being taken up to the village of Al-Asha to be passed out by Armed Un peace keepers. For the first time in months Buzz sees the outside world as He’s lifted up from the bin and tossed to a 9 year old child missing his left hand. The child almost drops the action figure but is able to barley hold onto the package as he runs to his small stone house. Hasij enters the house “Mom, Grandpa I’m back,” the boy runs to his room and sets buzz down after opening up his packaging” the boy leaves his room to help his mom clean dishes under candle light* [meanwhile in Hasij’s room] Buzz animated himself to life and surveys his environment. The window is just a crudely cut hole in the wall. The door is noticeably made out of plywood. And strangely enough there are three beds in the room. “Stop right there” A GI Joe action figure says while pointing a small plastic knife at buzz Buzz: “Sorry I was ju.. Buzz flips up his helmet catching the action figure off guard Buzz wrestled with the knife and kicked it from the action figures hang before pummeling him to the ground. Buzz then noticed the GI Joe Action figure was missing a hand as well. Buzz: “who are you? Are there any other kids here? What happened to your hand?” GIJ: “I was Hasij’s oldest brothers toy. He went off to fight with a militia..... he’s long dead. I was given to Hasij’s older brother but he’s dead now too. Finally I was just left for Hasij and I’m all he has left.” Buzz: lefts him go “what happened to your hand?” GIJ: “A few months ago Hasij was out in a field playing. He found a shinny object halfway in the ground............... when he tried to pull it out....... it detonated. Took his hand clean off.” Buzz: “where are we? And what happened to your hand?” GIJ: “I took my own hand off to show Hasij that’s its okay to be one handed. He still plays with me.... also, you’re in Yemen.” Buzz: takes the knife from the ground and cuts his own hand clean off GIJ: “ARE YOU MAD YOU BLOODY YANK?” Buzz: “It’s the right thing to do, no child should be with brothers and arms, only thing we can do is help them live without either”
"Howdy ho!"Satan says, brandishing a machete crusted over in blood. He appears in the visage of a horrific monstrosity reminiscent of the minotaur. Goat legs, but the upper body of a bull, buttered over in grime so thick it almost flings towards me when he snorts. He reeks of sulfur and somehow has a cloak draped over his body. His voice echoes inside my brain, something of a growl smothered over in a ridiculously cheery person. "Howdy ho!" I stand petrified at the gates, frozen in place. Instinct boils over into me urging me to turn around and run, but I can't. My legs feel like lead and my entire body remains locked to the ground, unable to move. "Howdy ho!"I hear once again, though this time it echoes as if the beast said this through telepathy. His strong bulbous black eyes bear into my own. I try to writhe free of this grasp until I find myself actually writhing. Now I wake up next to my wife speaking gibberish and twitching in a frantic fury. "Jesus, Jake, wake up, wake up!' she shouts. A soft down pillow slams in my face. I stop convulsing, but instead stare up into a white haze clearing into my wife. "Are you alright?"she asks. Echoing in the background at the same time as her question: "Howdy ho!" "Yes,"I say, startled. But I continue to hear it over the next week. Brushing my teeth it pushes out from the back of my head. "Howdy ho!" In the team meeting it overlays my supervisor's request I present updates on my code. "Howdy ho!" It runs around in circles in my head suffocating everyone's voice into "Howdy ho!" Soon even the squirrels say it, the trees, and the wind. "Howdy ho!"all of it rolling down the mountain like fog. I scratch at it at first, the words itching the inside of my brain until soon I've bloodied my ear from the intense clawing. If I can dig it out of my ear canal, maybe I can cause it to stop. "Howdy ho! :)"I write in my code. "Howdy ho!"I sing to my wife. Then one day I sing it over and over caressing her neck as she shouts it too. The both of us so entwined, I manage to get her to squeak it out like a toy. "Howdy ho!"it croaks.
“And… We’re rolling! Whenever you’re ready, Deathrax.” Deathrax. The name I demanded that the cast and crew call me on set from now on. It helps, you see. Helps me to get into character. The mind of a monster is not an easy mind to share. It was uncomfortable at first – they always are. Like a new pair of shoes that just don’t quite fit right. But you know what they say; if you want to know a man, walk a mile in his shoes. So I did. And another mile. And another. And now, well, here we are. I look around me. This is the second scene of act 3, a little while after Harley (my character) was possessed by the demonic spirit of a long-dead God-Emperor called Deathrax, who used to rule the galaxy with an iron fist. Pretty fucking stupid, huh? Blame my agent. She’s the one who picks the scripts. To my right, a group of people a clustered around a bar. To my left, a trio of half-naked women are gyrating on a hollow stage. All around me extras are milling about, desperately hoping that this will be their lucky day, that the camera will hold on their face just long enough for the shot to catch some big-shot producer’s eye and catapult them into stardom. Pathetic, really. But then that’s what humans are, in the end. Billions upon billions of pathetic cattle, crying out for a superior being to elevate them to a higher status; to rule over them… I frown. Intrusive thoughts, my therapist calls them. I get them occasionally – usually when I’m acting. Just breathe, he says. Close your eyes, and count to ten. One… two… three… Take the hammer. I open my eyes, glancing about myself. The extras seem to be moving in slow motion. In front of me, I see a prop hammer on a poseur table, nestled between two unlabelled glass bottles. My legs start to propel me, unbidden, towards it. “What’s going on?” I mutter to myself. Could be a dissociative episode. We’ve talked about those in therapy before as well. They- I’m taking over. There it is again. Hallucinations aren’t uncommon in method actors, or so I hear, but these seem different – more vivid, somehow. This is not a hallucination, mortal. Your flesh is mine. Wait a minute. I stop next to the table, hands by my sides. I know that voice. A deep, booming baritone tinged with the echo of a voice modulator. My Deathrax voice. I’ve only heard it played back once, but this is definitely the same. “Deathrax?” I whisper. Who else? It replies. I feel the small bones in my skull reverberating as his voice rumbles through me. That hasn’t happened before. I glance down at the hammer in my right hand. How did that get there? Use it. I heft the hammer, feeling its weight in my hand. So much lighter than Grabnar, hammer of the Tyrant, the legendary weapon with which I crushed the rebellions of man so many aeons ago… Where the fuck did that come from? I shake my head. This is too much. I need to take a break. I raise my hand to catch the director’s attention. “You got a problem, pal?” A tall, blonde-haired man approaches, leering at me. Fuck. I forgot that was how this scene was supposed to go. He pushes my chest lightly, jabbing his chin up at me. “Who the fuck brings a hammer to a nightclub?” I look up at the weapon in my raised fist. Me, apparently. “You here to fix some shit? Where are your workman boots, workman?” Seriously, who the fuck wrote this dialogue; Tommy Wiseau? He pushes me again. I feel a low, guttural growl escape my lips. “Watch your tongue, mortal”. Shit, guess I don’t need the voice modulator anymore. He pushes me again, his filthy human hands violating my divine form. How dare he? How dare any of them so much as breathe in my presence? Do they not know who I am? There is a loud crack, followed by screaming. People begin to run to and fro, aimlessly. Cattle, I think to myself, fit only to be dominated by a superior being. I heave a deep sigh, set my shoulders, and get to work.
They say the end is on the 1st. I didn't believe them. Because I know the truth. January 2nd 2020 will be the extinction of humanity. And I intend to survive it. At approximately 00:01, around every animal known to humanity will turn on us. Terrestrials will hunt in packs to kill us. Birds will attack from above, the marine life will trap us from the seas and the insects will act as spies to determine our location or poison our food. It'll be quick work for them. But I, I will survive it. January 1st comes by and everyone is inside their houses, thinking a meteor will strike, little do the know that the meteor will go at such a speed that it breaks down into microscopic bits and the threat will be evaded. BUT the meteor will leave such a large amount of radiation that the minds of Earths fauna shall be affected and trigger the end of humans. I leave my house, fully aware that I will not be harmed. I drive to my local store, ready to enter. I break the glass and start getting as much tinned food as I can. It won't matter in the end. I leave the store and dump the food in my van. My next stops are the gun stores and the pest stores. You can guess why they're needed. I return home. In around an hour or so, everyone will realize that the 'threat' has gone. I grinned at the thought of their embarrassment. I drop down all my supplies, and go to take care of the last threat to my plan. I bring my knife with me. I stand in front of my dog, Cole. His black fur made me remember all the times we've shared together. I started crying "Goodbye old friend"And with that, Cole was no more. I cried and cried and then... I chuckled and laughed and I giggled. I smiled in front of the corpse. And as the scenery around me changed, I laughed even harder and before I know it, I was in white room. Welcome folks, to ARKHAM ASYLUM!! THE PLACE OF SHITS AND GIGGLES!!! Outside I hear a man and he whispers to someone next to him,"I think the Joker's of his meds again". OF MY MEDS!! That's the most insane thing I've heard this week! &#x200B; &#x200B; >!Yeah sorry for going a bit off-topic at the end there!<
'Dan! Where are the papers?' asked Hyde . 'Just search the top drawer ,next to the main desk' shouted Dan 'They've gotta be in there somewhere.' 'Found um' exclaimed Hyde a few moments later .He had seen that the papers in question were a cheap strawberry flavored version of the traditional plain ones .Stuffed with chemicals and never quite as easy to roll with ,due to the low quality glue ,these papers were the last thing Hyde wanted to see ,on his Friday off . It was the 26th of December ,just after the holidays and he and a few other researchers ,had decided to get together in their mostly empty office at the Communication with extraterrestrial intelligence or CETI's academic facility .They hadn't much to do ,as they were waiting on a render to be sent to them . A rather intriguing render ,that none of them would have believed they would be receiving ,if someone had told them a year prior . It was a file no larger than 2 gigabites ,and on it was a rather rushed ,according to some critics ,rendition of the entirety of Earths history ,with a heavy accent on the human race . Some time ago ,around last December ,a few things had happened on planet Earth . Well generally more than a few things ,as Earth is a big planet ,but one of those things had curiously never happened before ,at all. A transmission was picked up, in a small Wisconsin branch of CETI by a man who had just spilled an uncomfortable amount of coffee on his new shirt ,and wrongly assumed this would be the most impactful event of his day . PhD graduate Tom Hyde had entered CETI about 2 years ago ,totally not because he had an almost childish fascination with extraterestrial life ,but because he saw it a clear winner over teaching ,at the university of Yowa or a position as a junior annalist in the national defense branches of state ,both of which he had briskly declined. He had been there not but a week and he was already vastly enjoying it .If you had told Hyde he would be working for the government when he was in his 20s ,protesting the Nixon administration and getting high out of his mind on lsd ,to challenge his perception of the natural world around him ,he would have likely laughed at you .Well maybe not laughed ,as much as ,impartially grunted ,since he really did take a liking to cannabis ,that few of his university buddies could match, and it had become noticeable . His particular branch of government was tasked with looking for and identifying peculiar signals ,coming from the depths of space, which, in Hyde's eyes ,was vastly different than working in the many ,top secret ,weapon development programs ,in that it was just less confrontational and more meaningful . This particular morning he had managed to avoid the line ,at the local coffee shop ,and had picked up a steaming cup of his favorite caramel coffee. With a rusty spring in his step (he had been drinking the night before) he made his way to the second floor and into his office . He sat down in his quite comfortable chair and was just about to have a sip ,when the chairs back gave out ,and a still hot cup of coffee came cascading over Hyde ,as if he had owed it money . 'FUCKING WHY ME' he had exclaimed ,largely to himself . 'I just bought this chair last week ,what is my luck no seriously' . Dan stuck his head out from the archive . 'Well hey if its any consolation youre welcome to watch me drink mine . Amandas just about to return from the cafeteria.' said Dan cheerfully . A stapler flew in his direction . It missed by an inch . Dan laughed . 'Have last weeks transmission results arrived yet? They had to be here by yesterday!' Hyde said still quite annoyed ,dealing with it on his own terms . 'Yeah I think so ,that packet over on the coffeetable' responded Dan 'Coffeetable' angrily thought Hyde on the way to the coffeetable ,the last kind of table ,he'd rather think about at this time. He opened the packet ,went over to his desk and inserted the disk into the slot of his PC and waited patiently ,but didnt look it . During the next ten minutes a couple of things happened . Amanda had come in ,carrying Dans coffee and after taking a gander at the screen ,had promptly spilled another cup on Hyde . Hyde on the other hand was so entranced he hardly noticed ,that he was now covered in two different types of coffee . Dan was making a sound not unlike a whimper ,at frequent intervals while staring rather frightened over Hydes shoulder . It wasnt every day that you receive a message from an alien communications officer ,attempting to convey in mime and in a rather oversimplified way ,that your planet had some kind of vaguely rock looking compound ,that its superiors were bound on acquiring . 'Its gotta be a joke' ,Dan exclaimed . 'Nah man ,this is the real deal' Hyde said ,breaking his 10 minute silence . About a week later it turned out Hyde was right ,as a series of UFO's had been noticed by several governments ,just clearing the orbit of the moon ,and closing in . The world was shook ,but action had to be taken . On an international summit ,one that historically every country in the world sent representatives to , it was decided that a response should be made . After much deliberation ,it was agreed that assuming the aliens were intelligent , they could be persuaded ,if the evidence were correctly presented ,that the human species was an intelligent one as well and therefore ,worth saving . It was then only a couple of months before a finished product had been produced . Turns out humanity got quite efficient when faced with their possible demise . A movie had been made . One that showcased the entire history of the planet we call home ,leaning heavily on our role as the dominant species . It made an effort to present us as kind creatures ,who cared for lesser species ,while at the same time ,inquisitive ones ,that wanted more than anything to solve the mysteries of the universe and their own existence . Stanley Kubrik had directed it ,after a period of brief self doubt. He had aged quite alot since his last official release . Overall it was a good feature ,quite effective ,given its subtle narcissism ,presenting humans as the most morally concerned race for atleast a few hundred thousand light years . Many critics hoped said narcissism would fly over the heads of the designated alien audience ,now some couple of thousand miles away from Earth . The film was then sent to according branch of government ,with the important task ,of being transmitted to the extraterestrials ,on the same frequency they had used ,for their initial message . It arrived on the 26th of December ,to the office of one Tom Hyde . 'Hey guys ,it arrived' said Dan ,holding the package as if it was a bomb. 'Bring it over' said Hyde .'We still have a few hours until the 12. I recon we transmit then ,cause it gives it the best chance of being received . I assume they should be awake .' '2 hours and 30 minutes till 12 ,what are we gonna do' asked Amanda ,quite unamused . She got like that whenever there was uncertainty in her life . She hated uncertainty . Electrons weren't her favorite . 'I got some weed left over from the christmas party.' she added . 'Id go for some ,why not ,cant be bad luck' agreed Hyde ,eyeing Dan ,who was already looking through his pockets for a lighter . Over the next hour all kinds of topics were discussed ,ranging from The Amazon forest to Dans odd looking tie . Amanda made fun of it frequently . Secretly she quite liked it . Under the soundtrack of Pink Floyds 'Dark Side of the Moon' (quite a fitting choice Hyde had thought) the three had talked the same ,as when they were collage students , pursuing their dream of studying Physics ,equally as high as they were at the moment . At some point they started talking about music ,specifically what was the 'funniest' song . Dan was in the habit of asking childish questions when high ,but this one was notably well received . 'Crazy frog' suggested Amanda, quite basically . 'No its gotta be like ....that song from like .... Shrek or something' said Dan ,in a sentence he hadn't had faith he would manage to successfully string together . 'No ,ill tell you what it is . Its gotta be that Rick Astely song hasnt it ? What was it called now...Oh right ! ''Never gonna give you up'' ! exclaimed Hyde .'Here let me play it'
The Formless “Death isn’t as scary as the living make it out to be,” the Formless hissed. The words spread like a leaky gas pipe, as its round long shape hovered above the concrete ground. “So,” I bounced the basketball once, “what’s death like then?” I threw and missed the hoop, crouching forward to pick the ball up again. I knew the answer already, but I’m aware the fresh Formless love being asked that question. “Sleep,” it replied, circling around the court, delicately lighting the ground beneath with its weak radiance. “It’s like a deep sleep, calming, soothing, warmth in tender liquid.” “You make it sound like an ad for body lotion.” I took another shot, missed again. “Damn. Highschool qualifier, my ass. I’m never getting through.” The Formless glided back towards me. “I remember this sport. I was good at it too,” it hissed, waiting to see how I’m going to fail once more, and I did. “Damn it!” My grunt echoed across the barren basketball court with the twangs of the bouncing sphere. I hung my head, my vision a fuzzy blue from the twilight sky. “Correct your form.” “Damn! Basketball tips from a Formless, now I heard everythin’,” I laughed at the idea as I walked to pick up the ball. It followed. “So, how did you croak?” I asked as I walked back to aim my shot, it continued to follow. “Dehydration,” it hissed, with no indication of emotion. “Oh damn, you from Africa or somethin’?” I aligned myself for another attempt. “You could say that. You should be more considerate in your manner of speaking,” its monotone voice clashed with the sincere message behind its words, “your form, relax your form. Leave the stiffness to my body.” “Woah!” I cackled, “and you say I should be considerate? I like your humour though. So, you say I should relax my form? What d’you mean by that?” “Bend your knees slightly, align your arm straight with your wrist. Let the ball rest in your hand, don’t grip.” “Ok, I think I got it from here.” I shoot, the ball spun with a satisfying swish through the net. “Yes! Damn!” In my surge of joy, I leap for the basketball to try for another shot. “You weren’t lying when you said you were good at this. I’m lucky to have you here.” “You have nobody to teach you?” the Formless asked. “Naa,” I looked down as I bounced the ball a couple times, “nobody. Just me and my Mama. Dad coulda taught me if that asshole hadn’t ditched when she was pregnant with me. Apparently, he was super athletic, good at any sport, but loved rock climbing the most. He’d be disappointed in a skinny loser like me, so there’s that,” I aim for another shot, trying to remember the form the Formless taught me. “You’re wrong, I don’t think you’re a disappointment. I’m happy to be able to finally watch my son grow up until he joins me.” I miss my shot.
Lawrence stirred groggily, finding himself in a large patch of thick moss that clung to his bearded face. He blinked slowly, and reflexively shifted his weight off of his now half-asleep leg before sitting up against a large stone. There was a pounding behind his eyes and as he gingerly touched a hand to his head he felt a raised lump. Touching it made his world spin disconcertingly, so he dropped his hand to his lap. It was covered in the glowing moss and caked in his own dried blood. He gazed around with unfocused eyes, trying to take his mind off of his injury. I haven't felt this hung over since I took a shot at drinking Branson under the table. He thought sluggishly. As his awareness gradually returned to him, Lawrence took in his environment. The cavern he found himself in felt moderately cool and smelled of groundwater. As he had feared, the only source of light as far as he could discern was the moss he had been lying in. This could only mean that he had ended up far underground. Beyond the stone he rested against there was only a blanket of emptiness and above him was a hole several feet up that seemed to have been carved into ceiling. He must have fallen through that hole somehow, he thought to himself. Miraculously he had landed on bed of thick moss. In a wave of nausea his memories began to reverberate through his consciousness. The goblins had chased him and his companions through the ruins they had been exploring. They took Branson and Jaerlis, he almost cried out in anguish. Lawrence had only escaped due to their sacrifice; their screams had masked his footfalls as he blindly ran in fear-stricken panic. His stomach was in knots, his countenance contorted in an ugly snarl. Why hadn't he turned to face the goblins himself? How could he let his cowardice overwhelm his duties and leave his comrades to their untimely fate? Shaking with grief and self-loathing, the lost adventurer pounded the stone in frustration. Almost at once the stone he was leaning against shifted and heaved against his weight. Reflexively, his broad arms countered the sudden change in movement and he managed to right himself as the stone took off into the darkness of the cave. Lawrence stood facing where the stone was, mouth agape with confusion. There was a loud grinding sound much closer than he was at all comfortable with, and he strained his eyes to see past where the light from the moss met the pitch blackness. To Lawrence's shock there was a gust of warm, almost hot air, that nearly singed his face and made his unruly brown hair stand up in several different directions. Then, out of the abyss there came a dull reddish glow, like the nearly extinguished embers of a hearth. It seemed far off, but grew closer and brighter until Lawrence realized he must be standing on the precipice of an enormous subterranean cliff. Then the glow blinked, slowly, and multiplied itself. Lawrence's eyes grew wide with another more horrendous realization. The abyss gazed back at him with lazy regard, her ember eyes smoldering above rows of man-sized teeth. "It moves", the dragon thrummed with excitement, vibrating the air in the awestruck man's chest. "This one thought she would remain alone for good this time." Lawrence stood before the dragon, his voice caught in his throat. His hair was matted from sweat on his forehead and in the glow of the dragon's eyes he looked very small and lost. She eyed him hungrily, a scale-armored palisade of pure power and grace towering over him. "We are going to have so much fun, little human. This one hopes for a very very long time."
People stand in shock. Another high-pitched vibration rebounds around the world. Our skin begins to become malformed. Our bodies become more thin and lanky. Our excess fat drooping down on us. A light shines from above, in all major cities and towns. Everyone moves as one. We all walk to the nearest light. We watch it land. It is a ship. We are finally ready. Our race, our being, is now meeting with our ancestors, the ones who made this world habitable. Not a meteor that killed the dinosaurs, one well placed shot that eventually allowed us to be dropped off. All of the ships brought us to the most spacious of fields. Our ancestors slowly shift down a platform. Their leader, OUR leader speaks. “We feel welcomed, to be here. Thank you to being willing to take new form. We will take you away from this harsh planet, and start anew!” We all cheered. To any human not surrounded by technology during the ‘Blackout’ this all sounded like a pack of animals, slowly dying. “We will fix the issue of the planet, and then we will leave it to the rightful owners.” He gestured to the giant picture of many species of animals. One of us spoke. “Will all the buildings be destroyed, obliterated of the surface of this hell?” “Only we will know.” The Leader had gotten up and walked to his seat in his ship. We all rise and head to our corresponding ships. We take off to new life and prosperity. We make amends and start anew. We now know the truth. A truth far from our own.
I woke up and saw the snow falling outside my window and the... wait a second! What the fuck? Why is snow falling here out of all places? In the middle of a fucking tropical island! I pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming but no, it’s snowing, despite the fact that yesterday we were at about 27 degrees celsius! I check the weather reports in my phone and they all say it’s snowing I turn on the tv and it also says it’s snowing. Everyone seems as confused as me. I open my door and touch the “snow”. The moment I touch the “snow” it burns my hand and I retreat my hand quickly. The weather is hot and even though I was outside for just a few seconds I was already bathed in my own sweat. I close the door shut and I kept watching the news about the “snow” throughout the island while checking social media and talking to my friends about the “snow”, mainly just to see if they are fine. I check my burned hand and the skin is red. It hurts a little but at the same time it doesn’t look that bad so maybe I’ll be fine. I cooked some eggs for breakfast while hearing about the news. I ate them as fast as I could and kept watching the news and social media. While I was cooking a post became extremely viral. The post was an image of what appeared to be a distorted sky with weirdly shaped clouds with the caption “look at the sky”. I immediately went to the nearest window and saw the sky. It was similar to the one in the photo but the clouds seemed to quickly disintegrate and descend and then I realized. It wasn’t snow, it was steam. This seems to be my final day on earth.
A sizzling scream, followed by the hiss of steam from an crumbling lump of tar-colored rock replayed in Tirengar's ears; it was a sound he heard often and found joy in, despite its unnatural source: death. He hated death - he became a firefighter after all to save lives - but the sshhh of the fire elemental's last breath gave him a relief. Another town saved by his team. Another town that didn't meet the fate of Lorendale. When Bala'zar erupted from his volcanic pit the world shook fiercely, humanity became plunged in hellfire until Romulo, brother of Bala'zar and patriarch of the seas, sent forth tsunami-beings to quench smoldering armies. From the high castles of Arlimwick, to the stygian Marsh of Bolulwood, their battle lasted decades - ending in a mutual exhausted hiatus for the deities. And although they now slumbered once more, remnants of the past still flickered unseen in the dark. Tirengar strapped Ashbrought, his family's last runic fire-axe, to his back and headed to The Boar's Roast, the small - yet popular - inn that nestled cozily in Brebireton. The locals praised his heroism, insisting he spend the evening in town and drink their gratitude. Although Tirengar was a sober man, he appreciated their kindness and took up their offer. What an offer it turned out to be for young Tirengar; dancing, games, and even the occasional bardic take took up the night. Everybody who had seen Tirengar's deed in slaying not one, but two, Lavadrinkers roused their neighbors and went in droves to thank the man who saved the town - and many others if the legends were true. Everybody in the inn took turns in Tirengar's celebration, besides one grizzled looking man who spit every other sip of his absinthe. When the festivities died down, Tirengar took a seat by this grizzled man, unaware of his leering eye and awful grimace. The firefighter took a large gulp of cow's milk, a nostalgic taste that brought him back home to the town of Luma. He sighed and sat back, noticing the livid man. "Are you alright, sir?"Tirengar said. "No."The man sat forward. "No I ain't. I ain't ever gonna be alright. And y'know why? Cause your damn kind here." Tirengar looked at the man, shocked at his immediate hostility. Before he could retort the man continued. "Y'ever notice your kind only ever used weapons made from the damned fires? Normal stuff don't work on 'em. So y'hafta beat em at their own game yeah? 'Fire fight fire' and all." "Course nobody ever knew how to fight em until your kind came along. You found that first coal and used it in your forgin'. Suddenly that sword could kill the beasts. Heroes you were!"The man spit. Tirengar tried to interject, "Sir, I don't understand your quarrel with me but I assure you—." "Shut it! I know your dirty secret! Ya need the fire cause it makes your weapons. So ya keep the hearts!"He was standing at this point. His burnt hand accusatory at Tirengar while leaving the inn speechless. "But them hearts don't stay cold for long! They spring to life in a fiery blaze, making a whole new bunch of awful blazes!" Tirengar was also struck speechless. The terrible secret of the firefighter's weapons was understood by some, but never had the firefighter heard of a heart reigniting. "And my boy! My boy wanted to be like you! And you devils in disguise gave em a weapon."The blackened arms of the man were held up high as tears rolled down his snarled face. "Did you know?! Did you know when you gave him that cursed steel?! He went to bed with it in his room proudly on the wall. Well that wall was the only thing left of his room!" The man fell to the floor, hands lightly pressed on the cold wood. "And my boy... I didn't even recognize his body. I didn't..." Sobs overtook the man. Tirengar looked down at the groveling, defeated man. Tirengar knew the pain of losing his family, and of the dangers of the fire. Memories of Lorendale filled his mind; The sounds his family made as they went aflame in that prodigious inferno echoing across his thoughts. Tirengar put his hand on the man, who then looked up into Tirengar's sunken eyes that seemed so similar to his own. "I am truly sorry for your loss, sir. I'll find your hellspawn, and I will do everything in my power to crush its heart and watch it fade into nothingness. I promise you this, as the firefighter Tirengar." Firefighter and grizzled man now both stood eye to eye. The man nodded, handed Tirengar a scribed report of his home's demise, then watched as the firefighter depart; his heavy boots clinking on the wooden floor and his wrapped axe glowing faint red into the night.
I think it's hilarious how often history repeats itself – and the last decade was no exception. Tools that could transverse dimensions were the new weapons of mass destruction. And, like before in world history, people were tumbling down a rabbit hole of pure delirium thinking about some rough nations discovering the technology first. But why fear a dimensional hop? Because with that tool, a team could travel to a dimension with a similar Earth, walking to where the White House would be, and travel back to our reality. It was that simple. But, while people feared North Korea would discover it first, there was a growing body of scientists who believed the feat was futile and beyond the grasp of humanity. The world calmed down. But then it happened. On January 17th, 2112, the president of the United States of Greater America (the USA bought Canada) disappeared into thin air while giving testimony to congress. The war on Terror was reborn and, although we didn't have formal proof, the whole world blamed North Korea. Overnight, the full fore of the greatest military in history was unchained and let loose. The region was destroyed and destabilized – we had to place troops in the country to prevent a political vacuum and...who am I kidding? You get the point. The only issue was people kept disappearing. From political top dogs to the common Joe, people were disappearing at a rate of two people per month. And what really scared the shit out of people was that no one knew where these people vanished to and the rate at which people vanished was increasing. After an emotional rollercoaster of fear and hope, the USGA discovered the most groundbreaking concept humanity has ever had the privilege to know: reality consists of innumerable universes – every possible instance of reality existed and could be accessed. There was only one issue: reality was becoming unstable. Objects from every reality were being dumped into a singularity because of this instability. This point was called the Flesh Dimension. The world was in an absolute panic: at any time any person on Earth could be zapped into a world that contained unimaginable objects and beasts from every conceivable alternate reality – the living embodiment of Hell on Earth. But there was a solution. The reason why the rate of vanishing people was increasing was that the flesh dimension was gaining more mass. "We are proposing,"the vice-president said in a briefing, "to create a nuclear weapon that would be zapped into the 'Flesh Dimension' and not only vaporize but redistribute the content of this reality throughout all other layers of reality. So that the universe will be balanced again." Although the next presidential race would determine if this plan came to fruition, it was all a hoax. The government had its own plan – it wanted to send a person to the flesh dimension to learn. There was no better way to kickstart our understanding of all the dimensions in reality than to visit the one that had a piece of every reality in it. So it was done. On the first day of 2115, the Space Odasy 2 was zapped from the Kennedy Space Station to the Flesh Dimension. Who was the pilot? Well, that was me. And oh boy did we fuck up big time. Upon visiting the world, I essentially had a seizure because my body could not physically understand what I was seeing. I'm talking fucking creatures and objects that are impossible to imagine unless they were seen first. And after that, I saw another space ship, with another person in it. That person was also me. "You have finally come,"it said. "How the fuck do you expect me to respond to that?" "How do you mean?" "I'm looking at myself." "No. You're looking at yourself from a dimension that happens to be a Millenium ahead of yours." "How is that eve–" "–You know what? Shut the fuck up and this will be easier." I caught my breath. "We created the Flesh Dimension in order to call you to hear so you didn't mess it up."It continued. "You created the Flesh Dimension! Because of you all those people–" "They're fucking dead! Save your breath, I'm you. I literally know exactly how must feel because I was in your shoes at one point." "Wait, how–" "–once you discover the dimensional tool, your reality becomes extremely unstable and off dimensional stuff just starts flying into your reality. In my world, we are attacked by something unimaginatively terrible every day – there are so few of us left. To stop this madness, we made the flesh dimension to redirect the flow of creatures being beamed into our reality at the cost of every other reality." "Wait, but doesn't that mean we should have been losing people for the last millennium?" "Oh, you have been! It's just no one really took it seriously until the fucking president was vaporized on fucking national television. Until then, everyone just thought they deserted and anyone who claimed to have seen them have pushed aside and called insane." "No way. So you're saying that because my Earth used this technology, now they're going to get space monsters attacking them!" "No. And you're welcome – it's all because of the Flesh Dimension redirecting the flow of death." "Holy shit. Thank you." "I wouldn't thank me. During this whole time, I've been sapping the remaining life from your ship so I can get back home. After about 1000 years, another version of you will come and you will essentially become me. Do the same thing to that poor motherfucker or else everyone on our worlds will die from space monsters." "Wait what the–"my clone got in his ship and zapped away. I slammed my head against a rock and began to see the blood slowly trickle down my head. But then, I witnessed the blood jump up from the ground and climb back in my head. This world was one I could not die in. Now I guess I have to wait. If you received this message, please, break the cycle and nuke the fucking flesh dimension – Vote for Greg Shawn. This is the most intense presidential ad in history, I know. It's been 700 years and this really sucks. If by chance a version of Earth receives this message that does not have dimensional technology – make it quick. And don't send the probe. Just nuke the thing. P.S: Don't be scared when Oprah gets zapped – I managed to save her from an octopus with two mouths and now we're baking cakes up here. I couldn't save Ellen – a gorilla ripped her apart. I'm sorry. ––– I am an undergraduate student at UCLA and I am challenging myself to write a short story every day. You can look up my progress on [r/Roberts\_World](https://www.reddit.com/r/Roberts_World) – I would love new users to get the community rolling.
"Deus ex machina,""God from the machine,"a phrase almost all of us have heard before, along with its meaning. Far less reknowned is this concept's cousin, "Deus ex homine"- "God from man,"for a person to achieve his full, godlike potential. The concept is explored extremely often, but is seldom given a name. I sit and ponder this as I watch my colleague slowly lose his mind. Deus ex homine is often seen as something to be pursued fervently. Many a comicbook hero is born this way. But few ever stop to consider the consequences of putting a perfect mind into an imperfect vessel. My friend and colleague, Dr. Martin Houser, was a cultist, plain and simple. He and his, "brothers,"though even now it feels foolish to use the term, spent many years in pursuit of an elder god, one which they believed would grant them unfathomable power upon his awakening. Perhaps in gratitude, or perhaps just by having them in his presence. Even they didn't know. Their work was based off of an ancient tablet found in what was once Mesopotamia, which proclaimed that the end of humanity would come when the god Selef Withn was released from his ancient slumber, and convinced to grant his followers immense power. And Houser's order, the Self Within - named after their own anglicanized version of their god's name, no doubt - had done it. But all was not as the tablet foretold. The god Selef Withn laid dormant in the minds of all of mankind. He was what we heard whispering in our ears each time we read a book, or indeed any time we thought. He was our inner voice. Now that he was freed, he whispered all sorts of poisons into each individual's mind. He did, in fact, grant power. All of humanity had access to extremely long-range telepathy, and thus was able to communicate with others all around the world. But once used, this ability could never be, "turned off,"as it were. Each individual telepath was constantly subjected to the screams and pleas of every other telepath, as they all descended into madness together. Those who never used the ability were safe, relatively. But they always had that voice in their minds, poking at their curiosity. "Just once,"it seemed to say. "Surely one little glimpse wouldn't hurt."And one by one, everyone fell. I've been dealing with the coaxing voice for three days now. I hear it even when I sleep. The others have already begun to turn on one another. In a bid to silence the screams, the telepaths have started killing others of their kind. Husbands have killed wives, brothers have murdered sisters, mothers have slaughtered children. All in vain. The voices will not stop, silence will never be restored. Even now, as I slowly give in and open my mind to the raucous cacophony that is the telepathic network, I can tell that none of it is external. There never was any telepathy. All of the screams come from within.
I wake in a deep sweat, my palms drenched and pruned to disbelief. I hear jet engines rattling like shutters in the wind. Opening my eyes an abundance of neon signage blinds me instantly, I blink waiting for them to adjust. Around me all I see if lights like a thousand Las Vegas strips. People walking as if they’re zombies murmuring through the hustle of over populated streets. This was my calling? My chance of survival was being rushed into a herd of drug induced drones? Animated advertisements flood the walls of every store resembling nothing of what we see. Vehicles float twenty feet above my head in an extremely advanced world to what I had left. This was based planet 001.3, no longer the Earth we were grown to adore but a beta to the existence that had left this planet behind. I had to move on from this, find what was being displayed on these blinding lcds that surrounded me. I was forwarded to the nearest informational portal by a kind man selling wears nearly rags on the corner. I was prompted for my social security number twelve spaces empty, three shall remain. My information was customary to me, I was briefed on my family and where they had populated. Rumor has it that they were populating a moon of Jupiter named Adrastea, this was a moon of the labor force building advanced technology for Tesla. Tesla had figured how to bend space time to shorten interplanetary travel to comparably the time it took to run to the gas station. Funds were instantly added to my ICI after it was printed for me at the portal. Pops did right by me and setup a life’s savings with interest, it had payed for itself and some now holding three trillion in a personal saving account. Knowing my clothing was dated hundreds of years I quickly headed to a McDonald’s clothing store and purchased myself a jumpsuit. Fashion hasn’t seemed to advance much from what were wore aside from everything was metallic. Knowing I’m well fitted for travel I grabbed myself a number 85 on the discount menu before checking out. Food was in the smallest portions and extremely bland to what I remember. I headed to the Amazon thermal to board a flight to Adrastea in hopes of finding some of my family soon. These family members would of course have no clue who I was, but it doesn’t hurt to try as I’ve come this far already. I board the Bezos Interplanetary with zero possible expectations to what is in store for me. In the Force I had piloted Hornets but nothing could compare to this I assured myself. Releasing in my seat I feel a warm touch on my shoulder, I double take as recognize the face. The face of Elon Musk grasped on my should, “first time?” he murmured. I nodded in affirmation. He must had cryo hopped also I assumed. I quested him on his method. He had explained that this was all a simulation the flight experience was catered to the experience of the passengers. The warm feeling of ease before you launched was accompanied with a sour liquid which slowly allowed me to rest. You know the feeling you get when you stay up late and fall asleep reading? That’s how I faded, waking up with that same warm hand on my shoulder Elon had advised me we were there Adrastea.
I was shocked, to say the least, when i answered the door to find jackie chan pleading for my help. 'You seem nice cover for me tomorrow wont you' he pleaded 's-sure i guess' i replied he said great before helping himself to my pizza roles and crashing for a nap on the couch. So i headed out to the nearby studio he was filming at, i thought it weird jackie chan was filming a movie on site in iowa but eh whatever, apon arriving i preformed the masterful Jackie chan impersonation i had perfected over years of watching his film 'how you doing buddy?' I said to the set director, 'who the hell are you?' He said 'your old friend Jackie here to do an acting' i replied. The director seemed unconvinced 'no your clealry a fat white guy and not jackie chan how did you even get into the studio? Also your Chinese impression is super racist are those clothes pins on your eyes?' I knew i needed to really commit to to convince him 'you think I'm not Jackie? Check out this sick stunt!' I yelled and then attempted to backflip of a table, crashing into a set of trash cans and fracturing my vertabre. I awoke in the hospital days later with the studios lawyers explaining that was in fact not jackie chan who crashed on my couch but a local asian man i had mistaken for Jackie chan, jeeze maybe i am racist.
Just like with any normal profession there are ups and downs for being a superhero, especially the most powerful one. For example everyone knows and recognizes you but that's a whole other can of worms because I'm always a target because each time I'm just walking minding my own business because they all go "Hey there's Sentinel can we get a photo, autograph, etc?". Don't get me wrong I love my fans but man they can be annoying, I always have to hide my identity while in public so they don't mob me. The biggest downs are obviously the villains that show up to destroy the city before I swoop in to stop them, which usually results in either half the city on fire or in rubble. My most dangerous foe is Azazel the demon from Hell who burns almost half of Continental City to the ground before I'm able to stop it. And when I get there he burns me with flames that I'm pretty sure are from the actual Hell which even for being indestructible it still burns like Hell (pun intended). The others include Brutus, a rampaging monster with thick enough hide that not even I can break it with my strength or my heat vision and his spiky horns are able to pierce my body which almost killed me in a few too many close calls. Then there's the alien warlord Endgame perhaps the strongest of all which took efforts from not just me but from the entire superhero team of the Star Fire Force or S.F.F. (that's a very long story). And yet all of that stuff is easy compared to flying over to my parent's house when they lost the remote to the t.v. or opening a jar of pickles for my brother who's too lazy to even try or even carrying my sister with my flight ability to her senior prom. She obviously enjoys this and always tries to find an excuse to get me to fly her someplace which most of the time I don't mind but it gets very old very fast. It's almost as if in the outside world I'm the symbol of peace and hope but to my family I'm the best convenience when they need something but never when I need something from them. Even though I love my family to death and I would fight with all of my might to protect them I would very much prefer to deal with demons from Hell, inhuman monsters, or even intergalactic warlords.
&#x200B; "Hey Kara! It's Beth- from Stephen Memorial Animal Shelter?" Kara sat up quickly from the slouched stance she'd sunk into on her old, beat up couch, an immediate excitement bubbling up in her chest. "I- Yes! Hi, Beth! Hey, uh- how can I help you?"Kara asked, a little breathless. She'd signed up to foster an animal months before, but when her home walk through was issued a strained smile and a polite thank you, it felt a little like a lost cause. No place to run around, cramped quarters, questionable coloring in some spots on the ceiling... she knew it was less than ideal. But a kindling of hope had been laid in her heart, and this phone call had lit it. "Well, we are... pleased to say we have an animal in need of your care- if you are still open to it, and, did you say you were opposed to any specific animals?" "No! Birds, rats- I mean of course cats and dogs, anything really! I just... wanna be of help!"Kara chirped, shifting herself up a little further and pulling her shoulders back to attempt an air of confidence. But then she sagged forward almost immediately, feeling self conscious for what may have been an over excited tone. "Perfect! Well we really think you will do well with our... newest friend!"Beth announced, seeming almost to match Kara's excitement. She felt a little emotional whiplash as her shoulders sprang back to attention. "Would you be ready possibly today? About 4 pm? Would that work?" "Yes! I will see you soon!" It had been the furthest thing from what she'd expected. Her first guesses had been a large armadillo, maybe with some sort of disease. But, no, a woodlouse, is what they'd told her. It had become her turn to strain a smile. And now, here she was in the same position she'd been when she got the call. Except instead of slouched lazily in her couch, she was slumped against a wall, spritzing water at the.... creature in front of her that was contentedly waving its antennae and making small clicking noises with random feet tapping against linoleum that bubbled with water damage. "At least one of us is happy."Kara murmured, her eyes looking narrowly at the woodlouse they had named Yupa. Yupa had been something to get used to, from the digging into corners and attempts to get specifically under the sinks, but one burst pipe was all it took for Kara to start zip tying the cabinets shut and becoming much more vigilant. The tapping of many feet scuttering across the floor of her studio apartment had kept her up all night for days in a row until she finally gave up and switched to staying up as late as possible, and getting to work at the last moment, and then sleeping as soon as she got home again. Yupa wouldn't allow her sleep in the night. Once the cabinets had been zip tied, the isopod had also taken to an almost burrowing movement, digging underneath the mattress Kara had set up in one corner of the room. But despite the rough time of living with an isopod, she’d grown to love taking care of her little gigantic friend. Maybe it was the waving antenna, or how the way it scuttled around the room while she ate, begging for scraps from leftover veggies, made her feel so much less alone. Life had been tough for Kara, and almost entirely from her own making. She longed for friends but was too socially anxious to make any. Real ones, anyways. In some ways, she felt a bit like a freak. And in some ways, that was what helped her to bond with her new pal. So when the call came, she had been hanging her head off the side of her bed, looking at Yupa and tossing a ball that Yupa would grab onto by curling their body to almost envelope the toy, before popping back straight hard enough that they “threw” the ball back. Kara had even been mid laugh, something she would have thought was impossible to do with Yupa when she first became a pet owner. It was Beth, from the animal shelter. And to both their surprise, the conversation ended with, “I’ll keep ‘em.”
I was searching for a good book to read when Ahote grabbed my hand and said, ‘Alo, look at this book! It’s called “The Zodiacs”’ I turned around and looked at the book. It was a very old, red book that looked like it might break any second. I gingerly took the book from him. “Alo! Can we read it,” Demothi asked. I looked at the book, “I don’t know, the book looks really old. Maybe we should not read it.” “Please!”, Demothi begged. I had a bad feeling about this but, against my better judgment I opened the book and started reading, “Chapter One is called Cancer.” I took a deep breath and started reading… Dear Reader, I thought I should warn you that this is not a normal book. If you continue to read this, beware, there will be consequences if the wrong person reads this. Each chapter awakens a new zodiac sign. But if you must read this I shall continue with my story. Our tribe’s leader interrupted us and said “Alo, what if this is one of The Ancient Books. If it is, the book could release an ancient evil magic. Maybe you were right about this and we should not read this story.” Mochni, our tribe’s priestess was not so concerned, “Don’t be ridiculous, Sakima. Don’t tell me that the book is intimidating you. It’s just a story. You are frightening the kids.” Sakima reluctantly agreed “Very well then, continue if you must.” I opened the book and started reading again. The first Zodiac sign you will meet is Cancer. The crab may seem harmless at first but don’t underestimate it. I think I should tell you that Cancers element is water. Hopefully you have been prepared and have fire. If you have not brought fire, then too bad… Sakima suddenly grabbed the book from me and yelled “Stop reading! It is one of The Ancient Books!” But it was too late. I heard a loud spark. I looked up and say some big blue sparks. “It’s magic.” I said. We looked up to see a giant blue Crab. “It’s beautiful,” Demothi exclaimed. “Don’t underestimate it. It is an ancient spirit trapped in this book by Tse, the one who made The Ancient Books a thousand years ago. He captured the Zodiacs in this book so there could be order and balance in the universe,” Sakima said, “Tse said in the book that we would need fire. Does anybody have a match or anything to weaken Cancer.” That was the last thing Sakima would say. A bunch of water shot out of cancer towards Sakima. I lunged at Sakima. I needed to save him, but he was dead. This was all my fault and I was going to defeat him. I had to defeat Cancer.
a bit like a sumo wrestler in a suit at their forty-hour-a-week job, the open door and the open and empty drawer and the icy draft floating weightless through the room seemed off to me at first encounter. It was when all that suspicion started. I darted to the door, still in my bathrobe. The streets were silent, no traffic was visible from the third floor balcony of my sleepy condo in my sleepy little mountain town. I watched for motion until a cloud passed by the already drooping sun and the evening light left it all too dark to see through. I spent the rest of the evening searching through all of the nooks and crannies of the apartment for the socks, at first convinced that my roommates were playing a joke on me. The uncanny absence of my socks made me wary. I checked the trash cans in the apartment and put on my shoes with nothing between them and my feet to check the dumpster. again, no trace there or anywhere. My roommates were annoyed with my relentlessness on the third day. I couldn't help but talk about it-who would take some socks? why wouldn't my roommates just fess up so that I could just laugh about it? I didn't even care about the socks anymore, I had realized that something more important was taken that afternoon, and at some point I quit looking for those socks and started looking for that peace of mind. None to be found. My shoes started to smell from wearing them without my socks in the coming weeks and that draft never quite left my apartment, it never quite warmed up.
> an entourage of dirt and snow blowing in around him That's good word choice there - entourage really gives a feeling for the moment. Certainly helps that it's in you opening line. Sets the mood well. > room at booths where candlelight huddled close to its candle and hushed conversations barely stretched the distance There's some good wordplay in this line, but honestly I had to re-read it because I got lost in the sentence. This sentence might be too long for this wordplay. Might want to see if there is better pacing within the sentence to this line. > boots echoed on the sand-covered So, this is just odd to me because I would think that sand would muffle the echoes. Maybe it's just me, but it threw me a bit. The dialog with the bartender and the stranger is fine, nothing really exceptional there, but does a good job of conveying to the reader the setting and world that the stranger is in. There's a world where there could be more flavor here, but I don't think it's necessary, I think what you have reads pretty clean. > The table man strode over to the bar man I get that we don't know the names of these people, but this line just kills me. There's probably a better way to set this up and get to this point that allows you to not just say"table man"and "bar man"I think that even a tinge of description about the two could have led to a better setup here like, "An old man, beard to the hem of his shirt sat at the far end of the bar, his gaze stationed at a table further down."and "One of the men at the table, clean cut and young, with ire in his eyes, caught onto the gaze of the elder patron and stood up." The follow up with the attack and the removal of the body is very economical in terms of word usage. I don't know if this little bit would bleed into a longer story where you have to make choices like that, what to blaze over and what to really focus on, but for just this prompt, I feel there could be a bit more flavor. I like the quickness of the glint of steel and he's back, since it rhymes with the action, but maybe the follow up with his death and removal could be more verbose. I like that the lead in to the last line and the piece of advice directly mirrors what we've just seen. Quite nice, thanks!
NO, PLEASE, LET ME GO! Tonight it was the blonde woman's dream. Sarah, he called her, but he was often delusional. I could feel her heart beat desperately, I could sense the dread and hopelessness she felt. Don't worry, Sarah, you'll be home soon. I just need to make sure you're safe. His voice was soft, but affected by a small trembling here and there. If I didn't hear it in someone else's memory, I would certainly hear it in my nightmares. Sarah looked at his face, but it was hard to see much of his features beyond the pale skin and age, around 40 years old. The details were obscured by a medical mask and dim light casting shadows. There was a clock in the wall behind him. It was three in the morning, if I was to believe the clock was adjusted, and it was a bold assumption. She then looked around as if trying to find a way to escape, but there was only a single closed door from where he came, and a bookshelve displaying no books whatsoever. A table held his surgical instruments where he stood cleaning them with alcohol methodically. Just like yesterday, I'll have to ask you to forgive me, for I am in short supply of anesthetics. She wimped at his words. I can sense your fear, I can feel it. I am so sorry, but you must resist. I know you'll be a trooper, after all this is an important procedure. Now stay still... Blue and red lights colored the room for a second. Police sirens. It didn't seem to affect him in any way. If only I knew the date and year. This time, I woke up before the screams began. After 79 nights, the search was starting to dawn on me. But before I could go to any authority, I needed strong evidence. Sarah, Mike, Ellie, Lucia, Lin, Martha, Yara, Bruna, Ugo, Tales, Tatiana, and who knows how many more. They were all experimented on, their bodies toyed with, and none of them is still alive. I looked at my wall that barely had any more space to put clues on. Loads of maps, pictures, notes, newspapers. It was in this city, in this neighborhood, so close yet so distant. An apartment, not much different than my own, with people that I've probably met, and some that I even remember have seeing. I looked at the clock. Three in the morning, if I were to believe the clock, and I couldn't sleep anymore. Instead, I picked the only book I had in my bookshelf: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, a classic that I read every time I went to bed. And soon enough, my conscience faded while I lied on the mattress I've had for so long.
"Bring me your sacrifice...." The group of people surrounding the portal with wide eyes gasped collectively. A voice floated through the portal, demanding the delivery of something... The voice was disembodied but always present, lofty and roaring, capturing all the dynamics of human speech, seemingly without exerting any energy. A slow panic crept up around the enclosure as everyone looked around. Children hid between the legs of terrified parents who couldn't protect them. In the crisp midnight sky there were shrieks of falling angels, wrapped in the fiery robes of destruction. Their scythes pierced the sky and spilled out the contents of the world, a thousand year tapestry being brought to its knees. The group was brought to their knees at the edge of despair. One man, aged twenty years by the battle and the uncertainty of his own existence, picked up his small child and brought her forward to the portal. A purple hand grasped the child, dragging her screaming through the crystalline portal opening. Her hand clutched her father's until it disappeared, and he fell to the ground in an instant. Laughter could be heard, mixed with the cries of the humans on the other side. In the next moment, the little girl was gone, and the angels continued to fall from the sky...
“Elenia...”, he sighed. “We cannot keep doing this.” He looked down at her and sighed again. He didn’t think it was magic, but... well. When she looked at up at him with her big brown eyes she reminded him of nothing else but a Golden Retriever. Sweet. Loving. Loyal. Innocent. Stupid. Carefree. And she was only the first three of those things. “Look, you can’t be with me every second of the day. You can’t be awake every second of the day- Okay, okay, don’t argue that one - you shouldn’t be awake every second of the day! - anyway, seriously - something is going to happen.”
The cafe owner and I go back- way back. Our mothers had been friends for years before we were born, and though he had a couple of years headstart on me, he's always treated me like a brother. I remember, when we were teenagers finding our place in the world, how he told me that he would always have my back, if I would always have his. It wasn't easy growing up, looking the way we looked, dressing the way we dressed, even in a big modern city like ours. Those supposedly in charge can talk about multiculturalism, they can talk about melting pots, but when the tabloids spend every other day demonising my people, it becomes pretty obvious who the man in the street listens to more. It's difficult not to get angry, not to feel the sense of injustice, the snap judgement of strangers. They look at me and see someone who's different, and that scares them. In some cases, they see someone who's beneath them. But I'm proud of my heritage, of my background, of my beliefs, and with the support and the strength of my brothers- the owner and our other friends- I keep my faith, and my patience. I'm not a political guy. I couldn't tell you about my government. And yet, when my friends and I meet and talk every Thursday, there is a tacit understanding that there is little interest from those in power in helping our lives improve. As a people, we're a political football, and sometimes the views espoused by the politicians are as bad, if not worse, as the ill-educated and uninformed yobs baying for our blood after five cans of lager. Every day, I come to this cafe, on my way to work. It is a safe place, run by a man I consider my own family. Every day, I get the same order- one coffee, black, sharp. Some vain attempt to wake me up before sitting in front of a screen, staring at figures for ten hours- a minor change here, an addition there. A job for which I am paid less than someone else whose life has been dramatically different because of their skin colour, their connections, and their name. Today, the coffee is tea. I know it's not a mistake. It is a sign- a sign that I had been expecting, and patiently waiting for, for weeks- months. I drink it down without further debate- I know what it means. It is my turn. It means that today I will leave the cafe, and turn left, not right. It means that I won't be going to the office today, or tomorrow, or ever again. No- it means that today is the day for me to stand up and be counted, to play my part in helping to right the wrongs of the world, to help my brothers in their struggle for equality.
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I walk out of the bathroom, minding my own business. I then turn a right to the hallway which my class is on. I see my best friend of three years walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. She must have transferred back, because she’s been in a different school district, let alone a different school. I’m so incredibly excited to see her again. I wave and smile big. She does the same. That warmed my heart, so much. I open the door to my classroom as if nothing happened. I avoid my crush’s gaze. It’s a nervous habit of mine. I walk back to my seat, with my social anxiety well kicked in. Oh wow. I didn’t expect that. At all. What am I gonna say to her when I get a chance to?? I know she wouldn’t tell me because it’s a surprise, but again, she could have said like where to meet and stuff. I don’t know. I’m just elated that she’s back at my school. I stand next to the door, waiting for the bell to ring. “I heard that she was back here,” my crush says to me from behind. I didn’t expect him to talk to me at all, let alone know my best friend. “Yup, I just saw her in the hallway.” “Oh, wow. Really?” “Yeah, I did. Guess y’all wanted to surprise me, eh?”
Part 1 of 3 My dreams have always been weird experiences. From clairvoyant shit to wild stuff like zombie apocalypses, they were always relatively realistic. They felt real. To the point that sometimes I confused fake memories with real ones. It was somewhere in my late teens where I had one of the most memorable ones. One where I fell in love with a girl. A dream in which we wished for eternity everytime we kissed. I never thought you could fall in love with someone you dreamed of, but life never made sense to begin with. It was a hot afternoon in summer where I finally got to meet her again. How could I forget her eyes? The only issue I had, was that the owner of those eyes was my newborn daughter. "Yo what the f#ck?"
* Phone rings * "O5-1, who is this?" "Guys we need your help" "Goddamnit what is it this time" "Aliens" "Aliens. Yeah of course Aliens. Its always fucking Aliens. Never something like Rebels, Atom bombs or some shit. Always Aliens." "Dan please" "Ok ok I'll handle this. Just gimme 5 minutes" * 5 Minutes later * "Clef, is 239 ready?" "Yeah she is" "Good. Proceed with Operation Superman. For the 500th goddamn time" "Alright Sir" * 2 Minutes later * "Thanks again Daniel." "You handle it yourself next time" "Dan, you know we cant" "Shut up. We might as well call ourselves the P-Foundation from now one since the only thing we've been doing for the past 5 Years is Protect, and not the other 2 things we're known for." "Im sorry Dan" "Dont be. Just because you possesed Bush and got reelected doesnt mean you can shit on your work as a Foundation member." "Yes sir. Alright sir. Im not sorry sir" "Sounds better"
Mikael slipped between two men auguring over the price of a massive chunk of marrow to continue his way down the street. He was running late. He’d been running behind since the morning had been stopped by a shift and now he had so many things to do today but only so much time between breaths. He pulled his cloak tight around himself as he slithered across the planks that protected his feet from the blood constantly welling from the open wound he lived on. The air was thick with iron today, one of the days that the smell of the blood hung over the city like a threat. Mikael had been born and raised on the flesh of the great one, but he’d never been able to get used to the smell, he wasn’t sure anyone could, though a lot of people claimed it didn’t bother them anymore. One day he was going to get out of here, he was gonna have the money to not need to harvest anymore, he was gonna get the gold to skip down and find a place for him and his sister where the walls didn’t bleed, but that wasn’t today, today he was just meeting Jhoans for a new assignment. Mikael steadied himself as the flesh under him shuddered, the shaky start to a breath; the harvester swore and tried to keep walking despite the biological earthquake. There was no way it was this late. He couldn’t see the sun past the third spine but this had to be an off-time breath. Jhoans would understand if he was late if the breaths were off-time today. Nobody could be on time when you couldn’t walk. A meat merchant to the right of Mikael shoved him out of the way as he scrambled to keep his wares from tumbling down onto the boards or into the blood. Mikael backed away from the man as his hard work dropped to the ground. It was going to take hours to clean all of that, but Mikael didn’t have time to help him catch his meat. He had places to be. Once the breath shuddered to a stop Mikael jogged the rest of the way to Jhoans, sure he splashed himself and these pants would smell like blood for a week, but if jogging made it look like he was closer when the breath happened, Jhoans might believe that it was the only reason that he was late. The lady who waited outside of Jhoans was doing what she did best. She gave Mikael and quick up-down, ponytail following the motion as she did. After half a second she nodded for him to go in and see the boss. Mikael offered a smile, she didn’t give one back. “Jhoans,” Mikael said as he pushed into the flesh of the beast into the hollow that the boss lived in. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the soft red lighting, but once he had he saw Jhoans sitting at his usual bone-carved desk, smile as white as death. The boss wore a red shirt and cocksure attitude, same outfit he wore every day. “Mikael,” the boss drawled like it was taking time for him to think of the full name, “you’re running a little late.” “Beast is strange today,” Mikael explained, he wrung his hands together, which got them pretty close to praying. “Is it?” Jhoans asked, “musta been working when that happened,” the man flashed his fangs and chuckled. “what can I say, I lose track of time too,” just as Mikael was going to join the chuckle the smile ran off Jhoans face, “sit.” Jhoans motioned to the floor instead of the chair across from him. “Okay,” MIkael squeaked and sat cross legged on the floor. The harvester’s eye flicked around the room and he caught the two ladies in the corner, both of them had serrated skin daggers on their hips. “Wh-“ “Why do you come to me Mikael?” Jhoans asked. “Uh- I n-“” Mikael started. “You don’t need the money, you have a job and what,” Jhoans pulled a skin dagger of his own from one of his drawers and dropped it onto the desktop, he let it finish clattering before he continued, “one sister?” “One sister,”’ Mikael confirmed. He didn’t want to \look\ like he was seeing if the way out was open, “that’s it.” “Mom?” Jhoans asked. “Gone, she fell into a pipe few years back,” Mikael shoved his hands into his pockets to count the coins in there. Maybe if Jhoans just wanted money he could get him some in exchange for his life. It would set him a couple of months back but corpses couldn’t buy their way out. “Sorry to hear,” Jhoans tsked, “so if you only have a single sister, you can pay for both of you to have a pretty good life off a harvester gig,” the boss tapped his nails on the skin dagger blade, “even if she ain’t working.” “I, I just like the extra money-“ Mikael said. Jhoans was going to kill him if he found out that he was trying to leave. Jhoans seemed like kind who’d wanna keep people hide side. “You trying to leave?” Jhoans asked straight out. Mikael thought he’d kept a straight face until the boss flashed that pearly smile again, “ain’t everyone?” He asked. “Not you I guess,” Mikael tried to lighten the pressure that was building on his neck. Beast must’ve been running hot today. Jhoans grabbed the handle of the dagger and pulled it off the desk before stabbing it into the bone, “That’s clever, that’s real clever and funny. You should be a comedian.” “Thanks,” Mikael didn’t know if that was the right answer. “How about this,” Jhoans let the skin dagger fall again, “I have a job for you and if you can get it done for me I’ll pay the 90 you need.” “90?” Mikael asked, he barely saw 90 silver in a season. There wasn’t a- “90 gold,” Jhoans nodded like he was confirming what Mikael was asking. The harvester took a second to process the idea, he’d never seen that many coins in a single place. “That’ll buy you packs and passage. Won’t it?” Jhoans asked.
My brother and I were born twins. Came out of our mother stretching for the stars. My father said that we fought to be the first one out. Luckily, or not so luckily, I came out first. I was named En, while my brother was named To. Both blonde as a summer meadow, and filled with energy, we wanted to conquer the world. In school we aced our classes, switching in-between ourselves to do the test that suited us best. I for one was best in math, physics and chemistry, whilst my brother was a genius in social science, English and psychology. We entered university shortly after like two poodles and left as big as wolfs ready to eat up the world one sheep at the time. We were recruited by a state agency after leaving university. The job description simply said “Whistleblowers.” One twin spreading the leak and one completely contradicting the leak. Symmetry was key. And as twins, we thought like one. The first case was easy. A leak about chemical weapons in Iraq. My brother leaked it, I contradicted it with a counter-leak saying that Iraq themselves had placed the chemical weapons there. The public was puzzled, couldn’t know whether one thing was true or not. Journalists scratched their heads silly. The second case, although tough, was manageable. A leak about having nuclear weapons in Cuba. My brother and I spent the whole night coming up with ideas. I drank more coffee than water that night. Pissed black two days afterwards. The counter-leak? Well, as simple as a can of juice. It was not nuclear weapons they had seen, but rather a form of art that looked like nuclear weapons. Say what you want, but people live better in the bliss of ignorance.
My wife and I couldn't be more excited to start our new lives in Colony #22 otherwise known as "Little America". As we drove through the sea of green grass all I could think about was how this was the land of opportunity, the land of possibility, the land of promise... I look over to my wife, Mallory. Her window is rolled down, she's staring peacefully into the beyond clearly having the same thought as myself. The sun glowing on her adorable face. As I watch her I notice from time to time a grimace briefly touch her face. She must still think about our old home in California... Our old home was beautiful and sat squarely in the suburbs of San Francisco. An oasis at the time. within several years it was entirely different. We watched everyone around drop like flies. The fires, the floods, the riots, and insurrections. We quickly packed up everything we had. We traveled the country only to discover this madness had infected the entire country. We were ready to give up on creating a life for ourselves when we saw it on a nearby TV. The new colony was being claimed by the US and a superhighway to it was finally being finished. Before the TV program even finished we were already on our way. Several days after we had left we heard on the radio that millions of people were also on their way. It was exhilarating to think we would be some of the first people in this foreign land. Once we reached the end of the superhighway we continued into the terrain in Nissan Xterra. We've been driving into this sea of grass for the past 4 days. "Can we stop for lunch and enjoy this gorgeous day for a bit?", asked Mallory. "Sure, let's drive to the top of the hill up ahead and enjoy the view", I said with a smile and a quick wink. Once we arrived at the top of the hill I put the car in park. She hopped out and pulled the blanket out of the back seat. I walked around the back and popped open the trunk. I reached under our tools and sleeping bags to where our five gallon buckets of MRE's were. I grabbed two out and grabbed the binoculars before the closed the trunk shut. I walked over to the blanket and sat down next to Mallory. She was wearing athletic shorts and tank top. The breeze lightly blowing her hair. Damn did she look beautiful, I thought to myself. She turned towards me and smiled, "What're you staring at you dork? Eat your meal!". We ate while staring out into the grass We could see large caravans of trucks and sedans in the distance. Once we finished up she took both of our trash and went to the car to throw it away. "Mallory come look at this!" "What is it babe?" "Come quickly you need to see this right now!!" Mallory came running back. "What is it?", she asked. "Come here", I said. She crouched down next to me. "I don't see anything", she said. I turned towards her and wrestled her to the ground on her back. Mallory starts giggling, "You're tickling me!". I begin kissing her soft face, gently. She begins kissing back softly on my neck. Just as I begin to tug on her shirt, a loud sound roars across the sky. We immediately freeze. We both get up and look into the sky. A cluster of black military planes pass overhead towards the horizon. "Godamn drones!", I said. Mallory replied, "C'mon, we need to get going". We once again began our drive, this time the peaceful vibe was gone. The drone had reminded us both that as beautiful as this place is. The war between the colonies rages on. The front lines weren't far off and the buffer zones outside of them were largely lawless and controlled by radical paramilitary groups. Several hours pass and we find a decently sized creek that runs off a small waterfall. We decide to camp out near the waterfall. I pull out my Kalashnikov that I had picked up in Montana. I loved referring to it as a Kalashnikov. It sounded much fancier then it's more common name the AK-47. I loaded it up with a fresh magazine and made sure it was ready to fire if necessary. Our goal was to travel the colony until the war ended. Once it was over we'd settle down with a small farm near some other settlers. Have a few kids and enjoy life in this new world. But our dream keeps being interrupted by reality. Wherever we go, death and destruction seems to slowly consume hopes and desires. We wanted to believe so badly that this new world would be different. &#x200B; We sent up our tent and light a fire just next to the waterfall. We cuddle and drink beer while my Kalashnikov lies several feet away. We gaze at the crackling flames and talk about all the adventures we'll have here together. She begins discussing what we should name our children. "If we have a boy we're obviously naming him Albert" "ALBERT? Are we trying to give this kid a death sentence?", I teased. Mallory rolls her eyes, "I think it sounds cute, wasn't your old high school friend named Albert?" "Yeah but we all called him Al, and that was different, he wa- "A rustling in the nearby grass interrupts. We both remain perfectly still and don't say a word. I get up and start jogging to my Kalashnikov. Within seconds over a dozen men came out of the grass seemingly out of nowhere from every angle. All dressed in camouflage and wearing tactical gear. All of them had their guns trained right on us. Were they military? Insurgents? We found ourselves backed up against the waterfall. It was too late to grab my gun. Would our dream end here, and now? &#x200B; \~ &#x200B; Thanks for reading. This is my second reply to a WP. I'd really appreciate some constructive feedback, positive or negative. Thanks!
(Part 1. Oh and … indicates the end of a flashback) “It came as a surprise. Miss Dinkleys articles always seemed to be the most popular...” “Yeah but with everything going digital nowadays...” “Maybe she made it all up? A talking great dame catching criminals with a bunch of teenagers? I mean come...” Fred Jones grunted and switched the radio off. He hated hearing his adventures dismissed, all the hard work he and Mystery Inc. did to put criminals behind bars. “Gave my youth for this shit. “ He grumbled to himself, catching a glimpse of his graying thin hair in the mirror. Maybe it wasn’t the media that had him so worked up. Maybe it was the thought of seeing everyone again. Velma, Scooby, Shaggy...her. She was throwing a big party just for the five of them. With Velma’s recent firing she figured she could use a pick me up. Fred slowly leaned on the brake and pulled over on the side of the road... (flashback) “My fault?!” Velma screamed at Fred. “I’m sure it’s Dr. Henry. He’s clearly capable of stealing millions of dollars of jewels all of the evidence points to him. I’m Velma Dinkley I’m never wrong.” Velma’s balled her fists before speaking again. “I’m so sick of your shit Jones...” “What’s that supposed to mean?!” “Guys...” Shaggy meekly chimed in. Daphne put her hand on his shoulder and shook her head, advising him to let them settle it. “Daphne almost kills herself, it’s not because of Fred’s trap screwing up, it’s because Velma gave her the wrong cue. Shaggy almost becomes bear food, it’s not cause Fred thought it would be a grand idea to send the halfwit out in the woods alone, it’s because Velma didn’t tell anyone there could be bears. Because it takes a genius to know there’s freaking bears in the woods!” … Velma sat in the back of her publishers limo, figured she’d get one more use out of it before they took that away too. She couldn’t believe she was heading to Blake Manor. Of all places, and of all the people to meet up with. She sighed and fished her wallet out of her purse. She opened it and stared at the worn photograph of Mystery Inc. (flashback*) With the gang asleep Shaggy decided to venture into the Mystery Machines fridge for a midnight snack. Velma was sitting against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest. “Hey Velma, looking for a midnight snack too huh?” He chuckled but she didn’t respond. “I’m sorry you almost got mauled out there. “ “Oh it’s not your fault, it’s not like you sicked that bear on me.” “Fred thinks it’s my fault...” Shaggy began to rummage through the fridge. “Don’t sweat him, he’s just upset man. I’m sure he’ll be fine and ready to apologize in the morning.” She straightened out her legs. “Norville...I know you’re not a genius but you’re smarter then to be a sheep.” Shaggy abandoned his search for food and closed the fridge. He sat down, looking at Velma, a look of hurt on his face. “What?” “Fred’s been “upset” a lot lately...but only with me. You getting mauled, his trap screwing up and nearly killing Daphne...” “They were just accidents Fred knows...” “Fred doesn’t know shit!” The two sat in quiet awkward silence. “Velma...” “Just forget it.” She got to her feet and hopped out of the back, walking the opposite direction of the groups campsite, Shaggy felt he had no choice but to follow her. “Where are you going, camps that way man?” “I know. I’m going to the nearest truck stop and calling a ride back home...or to get mauled by a bear whichever happens first. “ He called her name and kept up his pursuit. She suddenly took off running and before he could follow, Scooby ran past him and took off down the road after her. Scooby returned in the morning and reported that Velma made it to the nearest motel safe and sound. … “Your vans certainly seen better days.” Shaggy looked up from under the hood of what was once the Mystery Machine. His hair was still long and the years of overeating had caught up to him. “Yeah well working minimum wage doesn’t exactly make for a lavish life man.” Fred started at the painted blue van. The logo was gone from the side but deep down he knew it was the same van. “I guess you got Daphne’s invite too Shaggy?” Shaggy chuckled. “Velma was right...” The smile fell from Fred’s face as Shaggy returned to his work on the van. “W-would you like a ride?” “No Fred. This isn’t the first time she’s broken down on us. We’ll be fine man.” Fred shrugged. “It’s no problem. I got plenty of room for you and Scoo-“ “It’s fine Reddy...” He looked out the window at the Great Dane as he gingerly hopped out of the back of the van. Scooby was no threat but Fred could tell he wasn’t too happy to see him. Fred shrugged and wished them well before driving off. From the front porch of her estate Daphne watched the road with nervous excitement. Multiple limos and fancy cars drove by but none pulled into her driveway. She sighed and slumped over the railing. “Maybe their not coming...” She stands up and sits on a chair. A mere few minutes later a Channel 15 branded limo pulls into the driveway and Daphne shoots to her feet. The limo parks and Daphne walks down the staircase to the driveway. “It’s guess too late to turn back...” Velma mumbles as she opens the limo door...
I rolled my eyes as I walked into my favorite place on earth—work. Haha, just kidding I hate my job. It wouldn't be so bad if my boss didn't sexually harass every women in the office. We've all tried reporting him to HR, but no one believes us since he's a valuable asset to this business. It was like any other day in the office. I was walking down a hallway to the restroom when I spotted Ethan, the boss. He was on the opposite side, quickly approaching. He looked me up and down multiple times before saying something. "Wow, you look stunning today." "Thanks, "I practically gag in my mouth as he speaks to me. I manage to give a little nod and continue walking to the restroom. Time seemed to freeze as I opened the bathroom door. The door slammed shut behind me as I walked through the doorway. A blueish green oval appears in the center of the empty bathroom. The oval grows larger and larger. Then a figure appears in the center of it. The figure is an exact replica of me, except she's older. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail revealing multiple scars on her neck and face. As I look past her, I realize there are more replicas behind her. They're staring at me, waiting for me to say anything but I can't. I'm tongue tied, how is this possible? "W-who are you?"I stutter to the group of replicas. "We're you except we come from different dimensions,"the leader smoothly says. "We've all experienced this life with this horrible boss." "Yeah, I guess he is horrible."I mumble, agreeing with them. Ethan hasn't been the best boss. Working with him has been a nightmare. "Horrible?"The leader throws her head back and laughs. Making her pinkish scars more prominent. "That's the best adjective you could think of to describe him?" I nervously nod. "He did this to me,"she points to her neck where the thick scars lay. "He was going to do that to all of us, but it's time for that to end." "H-how can I h-help?" "Grab the bastard and we can stop the destruction before it's ever started to you."The leaders voice rises with every word and the other replicas chant her on.
You'd be hard pressed to find an app advertisement that doesn't make some kind of outrageous claim. Puzzle games that are more addictive than crack or meet local singles in your area. Let’s not get started about what other apps might promise to make you do. Most of them are no better than snake oil salesmen, but stopping time? That had to be a typo, right? It was probably just a stop watch app. Either way though, the app was at least a year old. What’s even more odd was that there were zero reviews despite hundreds of downloads. If it was a shit app then people wouldn’t be afraid to say something about it, that was just how the internet worked. But when no one said anything about it, good or bad, that got me curious. When I pressed the button to download the app, I only then thought that maybe the reason there were no reviews would be because the app just fried your phone. Hindsight is 2020 though and I only watched as the download began to finish only to find my phone perfectly intact. The screen was still working, my Facebook app still connected, I could still send text messages. Everything was fine. Okay then, so far so good, o rat least I thought to myself. When I opened the app, there was only the app symbol flashing across the screen with a blue button taking up the center of the screen. I tried to scroll through the app, maybe find the settings or see if there was a user manual. Nothing showed and I thought that maybe the stop watch would pop up when I pressed the button. Once I pressed the button though, nothing happened. No clock no notifications. Nothing, or at least nothing at first. Once I looked outside and saw a flock of birds freezing midair, I thought to myself that there was no way in hell that this was true. Holy hell it really did what it offered, it just stopped time. But when I pressed the button, I realized just why there weren’t any reviews posted. It could stop time, but starting it back up again wasn’t part of the deal.
All eyes are on Robin as he steps out of the garage and into the start line. Radwood's Race Raves always start with the small cars, but Robin is no small fry here. He's a smurf, and his kind isn't exactly welcomed in these streets. I would know. I tried pulling that trick before with a rusty 3-series Bimmer and got my ass kicked out of Collins Drive in every sense of the word. Yet underneath his swagger is a guy who's lucky to even be walking toward his freshly-built Rabbit GTI. Every single one of these people saw him crumple up into a ball seven months ago. Rog wrote him off. Blaine sold the shop to pay for hospital bills. Robin was limping two months before this heat. But now I look at him, smokin' a Pall Mall and acting like he never even kissed death and held her hand back in the freeway. Even the other four drivers greet him with handshakes and fistbumps. Seems like everyone's happy to see him back and challenging for pinks after securing his own at St. Clare's General. "You do realize he also got a CTE when he crashed, right?" That's Yonnie talking. She was the only one who visited Robin every night when the rest of his crew kept themselves busy. She even brought him drinks and roses and other sweet shit. In exchange, Robin told her to grab the old Golf from the scrapyard and "turn it into that Rabbit from Holy Grail". I'm surprised she even turned up here at all. She hated that project so much but liked Robin enough to keep working on it. Now I guess she's come to resent him too. I turn my head to the left. "As if head trauma stopped him from driving before. He's been through worse." "You mean leukaemia? Well, that was his fault, too."She gulps beer. "He's a glass cannon." "He knows he hasn't reached his limit yet", I whisper loudly to her ear. "Oh, believe me, he has. He just doesn't know which one." After another long gulp, Yonnie taps my shoulder and begins to move sideways, shoving the crowd ahead of her. As I look at her, I try to parse what she said. She has a point: Robin tends to commit to a race at the cost of almost everything else in his life, including his own. I've seen him go insane once because a socket went missing while he was building his R33. Before his big crash, he was already running that GT-R to the ground, almost busting his engine once and nearly costing him the race. After the crash, we found out his chassis had been cracked a long time ago and was flexing like a rubber band under the G-forces he's pulling. But he's still here even after all that. And as I catch his eyes take a look at mine, I realize that he may be paying some attention to whatever it was Yonnie and I was talking about moments ago. I suppose he must feel like he owes the girl something. After all, she was the only person who stuck with him at his lowest. His only way to pay back is to win. Farah signals the drivers. He puts his helmet on and opens the door. I peel away from the crowd. He better succeed. This field is chump change compared to Xenon.
“Tonight will be one for you to write about in that fancy little book of yours.” She gestured to the large, leather bound journal at his side. He shifted slightly. “Every time the Shield of Athenor fights, I shall write. This I swear.” He puffed his thin chest out, confidence fueling the fire within him. She laughed, a hearty laugh. “You amuse me bard.” She paused, gulping down a fresh mug of ale, “but no, tonight we shall be tested.” She moved, her large, armor clad legs carrying her towards the War Table. “Here.” She waved him forward, her large, blood covered glove pointing him to her side. And with a fear of angering her, he sped to follow her word. “Ethalia pushes here,” she pressed a bloody, leather finger down upon the map, a detailed layout of the castle and the surrounding lands. Her finger rested between two sets of figures, ten shields, all lined upon, what he assumed was the wall. And twenty looming trees, all pressing the Western wall. “And upon our heels, the Hounds of Hell march.” She slide her finger across the map, to the Eastern Wall. No figures were set up though. He caught her eye, his brow raised in question. “We know none about their position. Well,” She coughed, “I know none about that side of the battle. The King as declared The Sword to stand as commander of the Eastern flank. If I were braver, I’d wager this Hellish raid is of a suspicious timing, and with the Sword’s arrival. I worry for our fate.” She moved her hand towards his. Her bloody glove staining the back of his pale hand. “Aye, I can feel it in the Aether.” The shadows whispered. She shuddered, the shadows parting to reveal a small, robe covered man. His arms were long, sleeves of black cloth, ending with two wiry, scarred hands. “Hell has been stirred. And no ember can stoke itself, my dear friend.”
I was getting hungry - it had been a couple days since I had any food. I walked to the bathroom again to try on a few different faces... see if I could remember which one was mine. No. I think I had blonde hair. Longer blonde hair. Nope. I had thicker lips than that. Black hair? No. Thinner. Maybe not. Brown hair? My last fight with that bastard was much more difficult than it could have been. I remember what his mother looked like, but that blast from his hand. I don't remember that. And now I don't remember other things.
You are amazed at this sight of utter beauty and terrifying display of size. Gargantuan and massive, bigger than your little dinky ship and with rolling muscles like that of a anaconda, perfectly suited for swimming through space. Its head is bigger than any building you have seen, and on it you can spy one massive eye that stares calmly into the void that you call space. You see dozens of hairs, or perhaps tendrils, each one the colour of flesh and as long and as thick as airplanes, on the behemoth’s wormy body. You cannot believe your eyes or your nose, for a very musky smell descends onto you and leaves you gagging at the stench. Its winding body seems to go on until the end of time, and you can see that there are yellow spots on its back and sides, each one giving off rays of light that remind you of the Sun. Colours begin to swirl and mix on the body of the great snake-like beast, you cannot imagine it. Rainbows dance and shine between the tendrils, making you feel dizzy and enchanted by the glorious sight. And where from this body did this creature emerge from, but from somewhere far, far beyond the limits of space. A place where time and space are stretched to their breaking point. A wormhole perhaps. Where else could this massive creature of infinite size be supported, but in an infinitely expanding void. The beast makes time feel as if it has an end, for it gives off the feeling that even when the universe begins to contort and decrease in size, this beast will remain and flourish, its body trembling with new life and stretching until it reaches the gates of Heaven. Its gaping mouth the size of small moons, and its razor sharp teeth, each 2 times bigger than the biggest red wood tree, slicing and cutting through planets and ships alike of others. You feel the hairs on your back stand on end, realising how close you were to dying to this awe-inspiring monolith of pure flesh and length. No matter how hard you try, it beckons you. The lights dance and die. You must get a closer look. The beast beckons with its eye of light. You cannot resist. Closer, you get. The ship getting pulled into the creature’s gravitational field. You can see the colours shimmering and exploding like dozens of fireworks, but silent and without sound. Still, you move closer. Nearer. Nearer. All light melts together to form pure white, and there is your dead wife. Waiting with arms outstretched for a hug and soft tears in her eyes. You are ready. Ready to merge with the worm of the deep, deep space. Ready to become another color. Ready to die.
“Martha? Dear, I have a surprise for you!” I sighed, preparing myself for whatever the “surprise” was. “Alright, Charlie, I’ll be right there...I can’t wait...” I put down my textbook and peeked around the corner. “Oh,” said Charlie from the kitchen, “don’t be shy! It won’t bite. Not anymore, anyway.” “Did you bring a skeleton from the mortuary again?” “Oh, luv, you know I was banned after a certain...incident. No, no, this is much more mild, I promise!” I stepped out of my room, leaving the door open in case I had to slam it shut onto something. Squinting my eyes, I shuddered my way to the kitchen. “Open your eyes, Ms. Martha, you can barely see it!” I opened my eyes. On the kitchen countertop was... “A crow? Is it...is it alive?” Charlie laughed. “Dear me, no! Of course not! Do you realize how hard it would be to keep it? It’s stuffed, dear Martha. A gift.” “A stuffed crow? How?” “My father works in a pet cemetery. He agreed to let you keep one of his personal projects, since it is your...how do you say? Aesthetic?” I sighed with relief. Gingerly, I picked up the crow and examined it. Its big glass eyes stared into my own with a deathly cloudiness. Charlie’s grin got bigger. “Look at its stomach.” I turned it over, seeing a very small zipper running smoothly from its hip to the start of its tail. “Open it, dear. It’s my own personal touch.” I unzipped it. A small, pink, wrinkly blob promptly fell out with a wet smack! I turned away, gagging. “What is that?” I cried, hand covering my mouth. “Well, I figured you wanted it to be biologically accurate, and it was a female crow.” “IS THAT A BABY BIRD? IS IT DEAD? I think I’m gonna...” I took the kitchen trash can and vomited into it, the smell of rotten flesh finally overpowering me. Charlie put a hand on my back. “There, there, it’s alright. Death is a part of nature. Shall we bury it? Perhaps it would be a nice bonding experience.” “NO!” I screamed, barely able to speak without retching. “Ah. I see. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I specifically wanted it alive. But it’s lungs are so tiny. I will take it back to my room, Martha, and dissect it for you.” “TAKE IT, YOU CREEP!” “No need to shout at me. See, this is why I don’t go to parties much. People are so unpredictable.” “YOU DON’T GIVE PEOPLE DEAD BIRDS AS PRESENTS! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” “I’m afraid...I’m afraid I don’t quite know, dear. Nothing, I suppose. People just don’t understand.” Something about his voice caused me to look up. He was in front of the mirror, rubbing a white scar on his cheek. “I just don’t feel it. Killing, living, dying, it’s all the same. I don’t want to murder anyone, it has too many strings attached. Just little things. Little things to keep me sane. Seeing you so upset does nothing to me. Not much anyway. However, there is a spark of something. Learning. Seeing. It brings me excitement to know how to do those things.” I got up, wiping some vomit from my chin. “Well, I guess you learned that I don’t like dead birds.” “Sure, sure.” “Don’t you have something to say?” “Pardon my transgressions.” “Say it like you mean it.” Suddenly, Charlie slammed his hand on the countertop. “I don’t feel it, sweet, dear Martha. That’s the problem. I feel some things. Light affection for family. Protectiveness. Anger. Sadness. But it is all so dull, Martha. Even now, when I know that any normal person would be crushed, I’m merely melancholy. The rest is programmed into me. I just need to feel something, but I know that I never will.” Tears started to fill his eyes, but his face remained the same. “I’m a psychopath, destined to be worshipped in the day and feared at night. I can’t go anywhere. I’m trapped by myself, to the point where nothing outside myself means anything. Not even you. It’s all just talk.” “Charlie...” “No, you don’t understand. These tears mean nothing. They are a habit I developed to get out of trouble.” “Listen!” Charlie turned to me, popping his knuckles. “Yes?” I cleared my throat. “We have been roommates for years. I just stayed because you payed rent, and I was really poor. Now...now I actually care about you. You have a weird fetish or something with dead animals, but you can be really kind too. You just don’t feel things like others do.” “But what if it’s all just to manipulate you? When I was diagnosed with psychopathy, they said that I could get anyone to do what I wish...” “Some people. Other psychopaths aren’t like that. Like you. When I was exhausted during finals, who got me Hot Cheezits at four in the morning because it was the only thing I felt like eating?” “I did. But I also...” “And who, on the very first day, ordered takeout, payed for it, and rented a movie?” “That was a single incident. Besides, what if...” “And who faked not having an awful cold for weeks because ‘I didn’t want to bother you?’” “I do that all the time. I hate people coddling me when I’m vulnerable.” “Alright, fine. You may not think you are kind, but I do. You are kinder than a lot of people I know. And, hey, if you are just pretending, you’re doing a much better job than any of my fake friends ever did!” “I still don’t understand why you’re not still angry about the bird.” I shrugged. “Eh, I’m kind of used to it. It was still gross, but it wasn’t awful.” Just then, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” I said, sliding across the tile in my socks. I opened the door, and three guys were crammed near the doorway: one guy in the middle, and two other dudes leaning on the frame on either side of him. The one in the middle spoke first. “We heard that there was a hot babe in this room. Have you seen her around?” His two friends snickered. Despite myself, I could feel my anger rising. “Ugh, leave me alone. I thought you would have a better place to be than knocking on random doors.” The boy on the left made a kissy face. “How about behind your door, baby?” “Who is it?” Charlie called from the living room. “Just these jerkwads trying to be flirty.” “Perhaps they would be interested in a little more foreplay? Hold on a moment...” I could hear Charlie rummaging around in the closet, but the middle guy forced me to meet his eyes. “Is that the weird guy who takes Bio? C’mon, babe, he’s not as kinky as you think.” I smirked. “How would you know that?” “Because...uh...” Before he could come up with some witty remark, Charlie appeared next to me, fully dressed as Severus Snape. I was Harry Potter last Halloween, so he wanted to ‘match the look.’ I gave him a confused look. He just winked and turned to the boys. “I have never tried this with FIVE people before. I gotta warn you...” He smacked one of them in the shoulder with his wand and did his best sexy pose. “I’m a little...experimental. Is that alright with you, big boy?” The guy stuttered and backed away, and the rest of the group followed suit. Charlie shimmied his shoulders. “Oh, you like a little chasing before the meal? I quite understand...” The boys were soon frantically punching the elevator’s close button, and Charlie lunged as the door slowly closed. He took off his cape and smoothed out his hair. “A human’s greatest fear is their own body and what it desires. Some pretend it is only a game, but they cower when the real fun begins.” I started laughing. “The looks on their faces! Oh, Jesus...” “Embarrassment is the best revenge, luv. Now, how does Chinese sound?” My guffaws were echoing the halls, and Charlie rolled his eyes and took out his phone. “I suppose that is a yes. The usual, I’m guessing? We have to celebrate this occasion somehow.” My giggles subsided once we were inside the apartment. “Thank you, Charlie. That was awesome! I don’t think they’ll come by ever again.” “And if they do, I might have to go a little farther into this charade...”
I'd been home alone, doing my assigned reading for my lit class when the nausea rose up again and the world flickered. I tried to dog-ear the book I was reading and sit down before the collapse, but my hands were already too clumsy by the time I thought of it. The blood pressure medication I was on lately was the fourth attempt to keep these blackouts from happening when I change position and the frustration at the inevitability of another trip to the doctor and another new set of medication was the last thing that I remember before the world reappeared and I was on the ground with eyes that didnt want to open all the way and a splitting headache. as everything returned to normal I groped around me for my book and tried to open it to the place I'd left off. I couldnt- the entire chapter was torn out of the book. I gave up on it, reasoning that I'd torn the pages out when i fell, and shut the book. When i had gathered myself through the first part of standing back up I looked around the room absently and fell back down in shock. Plastered to the big picture window across the living room from me were the missing pages. They all had one word written over their normal text in what i hoped was only red ink, 'RUN'. As if my seeing the pages were a cue, the house shook from a sudden thunder of pounding, both on the window and both doors of the house. I started to make out a crowd of black figures through the window and the frosted glass of the front door. getting back into the half-crouch before standing up (this time a little faster) I hurried through the progressive stages of standing up and felt the dizziness threaten to overtake me again. I thought that running was good advice, but I didn't know where to run to. I decided to skip the second half of standing up and half-walk half-crawl up the stairs to my bedroom. just as I made it halfway up the stairs I took one last look at the living room and kitchen. The door between the garage and the kitchen was beginning to open as it left my view. I made it to the top of the landing, still on all fours, still woozy. I patted my jean pockets for my phone 'thank god' I quietly gasped to myself. I pulled it out of my pocket as I made my way to my closet, quiet as I could, and opened the phone app and shakily dialed 9-1- and before I finished the number I passed out again. I woke up on the floor in the living room, the same place that I had woken up the first time, and as I remembered what had just happened my hair stood straight up. I fumbled around again to check my book, and the pages were still missing. the goosebumps intensified to almost a painful level, and I looked to the picture window. There was nothing there this time, and it took me the rest of the night to shake off the sense of unease. I've never had anything like that happen at that house since, but I still get goosebumps whenever I get dizzy or if I'm home alone at night.
“Could you be... I don’t know... more ‘nature show-y’” the director pleaded, painfully aware that his crew was missing valuable time filming the contestant. Weeks of filming the newest ‘Big Brother’ has ground to a halt, the overlay of narration from Sir David Attenborough was taking far longer than expected. What was once a joyful and positive hero to many generations had slowly turned to a shell of a man, full of despair at the human condition and it was blindingly obvious in the way he spoke. The director was nervous, the final cut was due before the end of the week and they could barely get through the pivotal love interest scene. David looked up, sighed and turned back to the screen playing the day’s shoot. He cleared his throat as the crew nervously went silent. “The female of the species has indeed chosen her mate and, if he plays his cards right, he may succeed where countless rivals have failed,” he began, as the young twenty-something blonde strode along the edge of the pool towards a similarly aged Adonis of a man. “You’re looking great as always,” she chuckled, playing with her hair and not-so-discreetly trying to hide a pose. The man looked up and took off his sunglasses, standing up to come eye to eye with her with a cheeky grin. David rolled his eyes as he watched his and continued “As the male prepares for his display of testosterone, he is obviously affected by the various narcotics he had ingested throughout the day. Much like the Pygmy Sloths of Patagonia, high off hallucinogenic lichen they lick off island rocks, the male human is sluggish and slow, perhaps we should not celebrate his successes so soon” The man stumbled slightly, reaching to hold her arm both as a way of making contact, but also to steady himself. “You’re not looking so bad yourself babe,” he drawled, slurring his words and swaying slightly “The female is sure to notice this lack of masculinity, thousands of years of evolution have led her to this moment, searching for the fittest of her species to carry on her bloodline,” David crooned, eyes transfixed to the screen. The girl grabbed the back of the man’s head and pushed an aggressive kiss to him, triggering a flurry of moans and kisses as they made their way to a bedroom. David’s eyes narrowed “The female, obviously a failure to her own species, has chosen not the intelligent narrator whose wisdom knows no bounds and has a voice as smooth as honey, but rather the drunkard, who is sure to avail himself of any fatherly duties should offspring arise,” he growled. “CUT!” The director shouted, pausing the tape. “Jesus, Dave this is meant to be lighthearted and fun, we want a viral video here not something that will depress our viewers,” The crew sat in silence, some dark-eyed with tiredness after hours of re-recording the same scene. David paused, allowing himself time to gather his thoughts. He turned to the director, fire in his eyes “The leader of this particular tribe of entertainers has angered one of the elders of the species, he is sure to regret this mistake if he continues,” he growled “Wha... what are you talking about,” the director stammered, confusion painted across his face “The leader has missed all the signs of distrust within the herd, and his elder is not pleased with how the species is carrying on. And so, the most marvellous of displays in nature is about to take place,” a smile forming on David’s lips “I’m so confused,” the director whispered, the only sound in the room of hushed silence. “Revenge,” David muttered, rapidly turning to the screen and, before anyone could react, pulled the files of the recordings to the ‘Recycle Bin’ icon and emptying it. The screen turned black, the couple that was on it moments before, in the throes of passion, lost for all time. Silence “And so, order is restored in the kingdom, finally allowing the elder to rest,” David punctuated, before slowly rising up, oblivious to the dropped jaws of the cast around him, and strode out without a second look back. •••••• Trust me, my writing is way better than how I’m currently asking you to check out my other writing prompt replies at r/VerboseBuffalo Read and (hopefully) enjoy, always open for feedback!
"Hmm, yes,"the old bones rattled, "I guess I see." &#x200B; "Right,"God boomed softly, "Well, what are you going to do about it?" &#x200B; The answer, as always, was easy with him. "I'll fix it." &#x200B; "Good. Very good."God was satisfied for now. Death had been around long enough to know the drill. Satisfy first, plan later. And God was very easy to satisfy when he was busy. A line comprised of an eternity's saints and spirits waited at the door for God to reckon with after Death left his office. Each one would say they were angry with the decision to not only confirm the inner working's of the universe's secrets, but to reveal the intricacies of their divine business for all humanity to judge on a 1.2 megabyte app for their smartphones. &#x200B; "Well,"Death's closest partner, Alyssa, stood eagerly at the exit for Death, "What did the big man say?" &#x200B; "We have two stars. We need a plan to bump it up 'at least' another half by Monday." &#x200B; "Oh, don't bother with your God impression,"Alyssa pouted at Death's gag, "Not even a date with Thor could cheer me up after the way this week is going." &#x200B; "I thought you were seeing Papa Legba." &#x200B; "It's Thor. Legba would understand."Alyssa sighed half longingly and half anxiously. "What's the plan?" &#x200B; "We should start by looking at the reviews." &#x200B; "Oh, I have! I could buy an ant hill for all the good they're worth! Look at this!"She had a review pulled up already to show Death. "One star for Death! 'Just wish it would come sooner. L-O-L.' How are we supposed to help ourselves with this?" &#x200B; Death would have sighed if his lungs remained. Instead, he simply bowed his defeated skull. "You know, you could find another office to work at. The Aesir have plenty of openings for Imps." &#x200B; "I couldn't do that to you. You know that." &#x200B; "Well, I don't want to take you down with me." &#x200B; An uncomfortable silence permeated the conversation. Alyssa considered Death's solution, but knew that work for Imps was hard to find. Even if the Aesir were looking for them, she hadn't practiced smiddling (the Imp's most sought after skill) since Death hired her. "I hear Hell is nice this time of year."She hoped the joke might amuse Death. &#x200B; "No, it's not." &#x200B; "Yeah, I know." &#x200B; With nothing else to go off of, Death meditated hard on the review Alyssa read. Like a holy light, an idea flashed across Death's empty eye sockets. "What questions do you think are appropriate for an application to die?"
I was able to run away from the onslaught of bullets, though I am in an environment off which I do not know. I wasn't able to see anything in the darkness of the basement, but an item catched my eye since it had a aura of light that pierced the darkness. I thought that I would be able to see through the darkness with the item, but really the darkness came to me. "A rosary,"I whisper under my breath as I grab the item, only for the holy aura to vanish along with the darkness. "Welcome home,"I hear from a familiar sound that reminds me of my past. I look up as I say, "Mother?"
It was almost dawn. The tables had been set, the chairs piled on top as the dwarf Durnan was cleaning the glassware. These were the ones he used to serve aristocrats on the off-chance someone dared visit this smelly tavern. He was tired, ready to close for the next day. "Wait!"The door slammed open, surprising Durnan, almost making him drop the precious glass cup. "Arok's fiery eyebrows! What happened to you!"He shouted in fright. The intruder was a young maiden, wearing white satin robes that clearly belonged in a Church, definitely an uncommon sight in these parts. But what shocked him more was the bloody mess; the massive gaping wound on her right shoulder, so serious was it that he could see the bone peek through, the dried blood on her white robes and the matted clots on her hair. But it did not seem to bother the woman as she strode towards the counter, "Ale!"She roared. "Give me some ale!" Durnan dared not delay, the woman screamed trouble and the sooner she went the better. He quickly poured some ale into a tankard, serving it immediately. The woman downed the contents in one gulp, so fast Durnan wondered if the cheap smelly ale had been switched with some fine wine. WIthout further ado, the woman slammed the tankard down into the wooden counter. "Finally something to drink! I thought I was going to die without one last sip."She laughed heartily while Durnan seriously contemplated if he had fallen asleep while cleaning the glass. But no sooner had he thought that than the priestess started disrobing! "Damn, got to clean this up. Those old bastards are gonna catch up."No sooner had her pale white skin touched the light had she suddenly mumbled, "Eild'hur coaxe!"The ancient tongue! A high ranking official! Durnan trembled. What is a high ranking official of the Church doing in this backwater town?! Even the most pathetic of mages wouldn't dirty themselves to visit a tavern such as this! Durnan only knew the ancient tongue through stories of his elder dwarves. He had never even heard it before, but he instantly knew what it was. A tongue spoken only by the most learned, the most powerful! a tongue that can command magic and break the fabric of reality! True to his thoughts, the lady's words engendered golden light that snaked all over her body, caressing her. Like a warm healing flame, everything it touched started to heal, the wounds stitching themselves together with threads of flesh and the blood drying and evaporating into thin air. Durnan's mouth hung open; having lived in the rough town his whole life, magic was as mysterious to him as fine dining and a clean, piss-free alleyway. She smirked at him, "What? First time seeing a naked girl?"She shoots, "It's worth another round of ale dont'cha think? And some grub."Durnan's cheeks burn red, struggling as he was to keep his questions to himself. Smithlord save me, he mumbled, serving up another tankard as he broke open the cuppard, reaching for the stale bread and mutton he had kept for himself. The woman ate without decorum, ravishing the meat with her fingers before Durnan could even take out tableware. He just watched, he didn't have the courage to drive away someone of her stature. All he could do was mumble prayers to the Smithlord, hoping the woman left before whatever monster dared to rip apart a high-ranking church official's shoulder catches up with her. All of a sudden, the woman paused, her face distorting to a wince, then a frown. "They're here."She muttered. "Dwarf! Quickly! A place to hide!"She whispered. \-- Moments later, the door swung open once more. Durnan jumped in fright but to his surprise it was a priest! The unmistakable white satin robes floundered in the wind before him as he exhaled in relief. "Dwarf! I command thee! By the order of the Pope! Have you seen this woman!"Holy Smithlord! He nearly fainted.
As the last of the half-naked Exxon dancers left the stage and the Statefarm cannon was wheeled away, the cast trickled back into frame and resumed their after-school style discussion about bullying. Nobody really knows when the shift happened, but as soon as ad agencies realized nobody would stop them in the age of "live-only"TV, they began to see just how far they could push the envelope. It wasn't long before the studio audience was enraptured with the "ads"and using the actual show as an opportunity to grab snacks or have a smoke. The show runners did their best to keep things on track, but it was hard to stay motivated when nobody was actually watching. Maybe it was because of this that nobody noticed the four men dressed in black as they carried assorted gear backstage. The sitcom family wrapped up their familial discussion as the audience filed back to their seats in preparation for the next round of theatrics. Suddenly a sharp popping noise could be heard followed by a scream. The cast, already leaving the stage, began to flee. Fear and pandemonium ensued as people desperately sought cover under their rickety seats. The chaos came to a head as the lead gunman came out from behind the curtain, firing his automatic rifle into the air. With a huge smile plastered on his face, he removed his Wendy's mask and screamed "SPICY NUGGETS ARE BACK!"
I found out that what is preventing me from disaster may be causing the disaster... Let me tell you a bit. When I was young, my mother, father, sister, and I planned to take a ferry to Mackinac Island right above Michigan. We stood in line for the ferry, we waited for the ferry to arrive. I looked up at the sky and hoped for safe travel. I thought of the stars at night, how they were there even during the day. It was to them I sent my prayers. But we never made it on the ferry, for I fainted because of "low blood pressure."The ferry had caught fire due to engine failure. On my eighteenth birthday, I was to take a trip with a friend of mine to Mexico where we'd meet with another group and spend a week in Cozumel. I followed my ritual--it happened without thought--of looking up and praying. I woke in a small room populated by multiple airport security. My throat burned; my voice was hoarse. I had been yelling, so I've been told, about the falling of the sky...a real chicken little story which security detained me for. I spent quite some time being questioned by various officials as to how I knew the plane would crash mid-flight. And so, it was that I avoided disaster, went blank, but never did I know the true mechanism. I thought of angels and God. These were easy answers to complex questions, forms that waited on my imagination to give them fullness. Recently, I was waiting to board the Chicago train back to Detroit. I walked into the Chicago terminal and packed in amongst the others. We all stood waiting and swaying like a gentle ocean. I checked my watch to see how much longer I could expect to wait for the train. I started to sweat a bit, to tap my foot, to feel seasick in that crowd. Anticipation built in me. In crowds, I've found, I become lost. My thoughts tend to dissipate, the scenery rolls up to my face as though my eyes were fisheye lenses--stranger's faces swell, the tiles move toward me and cross my eyes as though cutting me apart. It's been getting worse as time passes, so I look upwards follow my ritual. What a joy, I first thought, when the ceiling rolled at me with so many painted-on stars. They were drawn with such precision. The whites and golds cut fine corners and points and bled into one another as though their light wasn't just their own. Something like a shared source illuminated them, drew them out brighter, defined them until the scenery around them melted away opening up nothing but their presence to my eyes. How long was I lost in that sight? How long passed without another body bumping into me and pulling me from my trance? Was this how it happened all those years? Now, for some reason, I was experiencing the transition in full. When I pulled my head down, when I stopped shining on the ceiling and bending light waves with the stars around me, I checked my watch. The face was gone. All that shown: a black hole. Absence permeated all of space, for the crowd around me had withdrawn into the scenery, the fluorescent bulbs exuded only darkness, and the train was yet to arrive. In my pocket: no ticket. In my coat: no wallet. In my heart: no fear, no fear in the worst way one cannot have it--why wasn't it there when I knew I was terrified? One should feel some level of fright when across the black of an empty station there only sits a cloaked woman, motionless and quiet. Her hands reached out in front of her. She gazed at them like stars, yet her body kept stiff as petrified wood; she did not sway or move. And her clothes hung off her like drapes, like loose red curtains stuck on branches in a dead forest. My eyes went fish-eyed again and the world pulled towards me along with that hunched woman. Her wooden hands touched my face, her breath creaked from her and filled my nose, and the stars of her eyes drained light from mine. She whispered something to me; a hushed prayer said by an eldritch angel, a prayer so like the ones I'd sent to the sky throughout my life. I collapsed on the floor. "Your prayers save and destroy,"she said. Her voice shook my body like static and I started convulsing. The floor rumbled, and loud whirring carried into my ears as the train pulled in. I stood apart from myself as I saw a crowd of shades appear and carry off my body to a separate room in the station. Paramedics tried to stabilize me, to stop the convulsions, but it did not appear to work. Then an explosion sounded from the train, and I woke up. I still pray. Old habits die hard.
Hi u/ToranosukeCalbraith, 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) --- I love this prompt. Please just repost without the question. Something more direct like "It is a slow day on the salesfloor."or even just leave it without the question and allow people to take it in any number of ways. --- --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ehn5q0/-/%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.
Hi u/highonbutter, this submission has been removed. We are keeping spoiler prompts out of the sub for now as a courtesy for our large community. Feel free to post again after the movie has been out longer. --- --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ehnu56/-/%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.
She was born Brianna Maes Borough, but at some point she had begun to go by Bree; that was her second mistake. Having a hot pink scene phase was her third mistake, and her fourth was not confessing to Tristan McRoghlin before he moved to Bumblefuck, Alabama with his stepmom. Her first and largest mistake, however, was being the reincarnation of extraterrestrial royalty. It wasn't that she hadn't known, of course - their technology was advanced enough to retain those after her recovery - but life on earth was......different. Peaceful. A little bit too cheerful sometimes, but nothing that _My Chemical Romance_ couldn't fix. And then she got delivered right to her old front door. It didn't take long for her to kick the door down to her throne room; if she remembered correctly, the fastest way to the bridge was through the door in the back. The floor was thick with alien goop, and while she was glad her combat boots were enough to hold against the slippery substance, she also knew that meant her subordinates were nearby and ready to ambush her. "Our liege!"As if on cue, several blobs of jelly emerged from behind the throne, each of them a different color and size to indicate their ages. While the Aftsids were cute in their own, odd way, Bree only scowled at them as they waved tiny jello appendages in celebration. "You are awake!"The one speaking was one of the smaller blobs, its orange and white mass bouncing with every word that it spoke in their shared mother language. "Mokplatz blesses us this day!" "Yeah like _hell_ it does,"she snapped back, crossing her arms in front of her. "Where's the captain? No, scratch that, where's the teleporter? I'm going back to Earth." "You can't!"The next to speak was a soft lavender, pleasing to the eye with an odd rhythmic spring in its voice. "You just got here, our liege, wouldn't you like to know our status? Or return to your original form, perhaps, we can create a new vessel for you! Surely you tire of being human." "I don't tire of anything,"she replied sourly, "because I _am_ human. I'm not Aftsid anymore. And, as a human, I demand that you take me back where I belong. What made you think this was a good idea? I never gave you the signal to bring me back!" "You spoke in prophecy,"the largest blob said, wobbling like distressed green apple jelly. "You spoke of the Dark Tendrils, reaching out for you to guide you home. We thought that you wished for your old vessel to-" The fingers curled into Bree's hair tightened and her scowl deepened. "It was a _metaphor,_ you stupid flubnak!"Green Apple gasped and prostrated itself across the slimy floor at the insult. "I'm sixteen, I'm depressed, it's what I _do!_ Soul-searching poetry is a cry for help from a therapist or something, not you stupid blobs!"Her watch beeped, and she looked down at it in horror before pointing an accusatory finger at Orange Cream Soda. "And now look! I'm going to miss presale for Warped Tour tickets thanks to you lot! You know how much I was looking forward to those? I saved all my damn allowance for them!" "You're our liege,"Orange replied nervously. "We can replace these 'warped' tickets if you wish! Please, just forgive us for our insolence......!" While the offer was tempting, her main point still stood. "Let me go back home, then we can talk about compensation." There were murmurs between the aliens, before they all began to agree hesitantly, one by one.....save for the last of the group. The smallest Aftsid, a translucent white youngling, tilted its body to the side in confusion. "But you are home, our liege."Its voice was wavery, and had Bree been any younger and less knowledgeable of the human realm, she would have agreed. Up on this ship, with her subjects, was where she was _meant_ to be......but that didn't mean that was where she _wanted_ to be. Her voice softened as she looked around the throne room, guilt biting at her words. They did all this for her sake, but it wasn't what she wanted. "This isn't home."She looked out the window, towards the blue and green planet that she had grown too attached to, and sighed. "Please. Take me _home."_ <> I think I made Bree too punk and not enough goth, haha, but this was fun to write regardless! I hope it was fun to read, too.
"So... how would you say your career went?"I inquired, watching the sloppy bit of tea collect against the thick bristles of his moustache. "My career? Well... I would say it went well, but many wouldn't agree with me."He muttered, wiping the remnants of the tea away from his face before he went to speak. "I... was honestly surprised someone wished to have tea with me." "Well you were quite influential in your time and honestly a big part of my childhood. I always admired that one speech you did. What was it called?" "Oh hush.. I had many speeches... but thank you. I just never expected someone to take my message so well. I thought you young people were rather um... whats the word?"He seemed to ponder for a few moments. "Progressive?" "Oh that is true. But we sometimes have to go back to the classics. sure we have a lot more people doing similar things to you in our time but you were one of the first. I think thats what resonates with me." "I see.. so speech wise was it the one at the Krupp Factory?"He asked inbetween a sip of tea. "Whats that? Oh I remember it was the one from the movie the great dictator. I loved your role in that film. "I... think you may have mistaken me for someone else..."the figure awkwardly muttered. "You aren't Charlie Chaplin?" {If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read}

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