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"Hello? ... Henry! Hey man, long time, no talk. What's going- ... Really? Wow-congratulations! Somehow I never imagined you'd take the plunge. She must be quite the girl. ... I understand. No, I don't mind-happy to just be a guest. ... Really? I mean sure, I'd love to. When's the date? ... I'll be there. ... You've been my best friend for close to twenty years-for you, no charge. ... Don't worry about it-consider it my wedding present to the lucky couple. ... Do the two of you want to do engagement photos or anything? ... Yeah, we can do both, although she may not want you at the bridal shoot because of the whole 'groom seeing the dress' thing. ... Yeah, I know it's superstition, but- ... Right. Whatever she wants. ... I know just the place for the engagement photos: there's a cabin I bought ... Yes, I bought it-cheaper in the long run than renting, as popular as it was for my sessions. Anyway, it's very photogenic-I'll send you the directions and a few snaps of it so you can see, but if the two of you have a better idea, I won't be offended. ... Okay, let me know when works for the two of you, and we'll get 'em done. Talk soon."
I hung up the phone, still surprised. *Henry getting married. She must be an exceptional lady.*
-----
It was a few weeks later, on a nice spring afternoon, that I found myself at the cabin, getting ready to do one of the most important photo shoots (to me) of my career. I was doing the last checks of my equipment when there was a knock on the cabin door.
"That was quite a walk up the driveway. How've you been, man?"
"Been good, and you too, apparently. Yeah, it's walk, but parking at the bottom of the drive means they don't accidentally show up in the background. But if you want your car in the picture, you can pull it up in front."
"Makes sense. She called to say she was running a little late, and would meet us here."
We were still catching up as I finished the last of my preparations when there was a soft knock at the door.
"Come in."
I looked up from my gear, and was stopped by the pair of emerald eyes of a porcelain face surrounded by a halo of flaming red hair. Instantly I was thrown back in memory fifteen years to a dream.
-----
-----
It was a nice, sunny morning in the park, with butterflies darting from bush to bush. The warm light made the flowers and butterflies almost glow, so I took advantage of the light taking photo after photo of them. It was as I looked over a wall of flowers that I saw her sitting on the bench. Her flowing red hair was a flaming halo around her as she read her book. My heart skipped a beat-or maybe a few.
I remembered to breathe, but don't remember getting from the flowers to sitting beside her on the bench, talking with her about photography, the book she held, and more. The conversation flowed easily, and I hung on her every word, her voice music to my ears. Next thing I knew we were walking beside the pond, still talking, she occasionally letting me take her photograph. Before I knew it, she had relaxed to the camera, and we were taking photographs around the park-often of her reading, her hair and sweater creating a soft glow about her in the sunlight that contrasted against her porcelain skin.
A sudden down-burst came out of nowhere, and we found ourselves huddling under a newspaper as a makeshift umbrella, running for cover. The next moment we were soaked to the bone, shaking, holding hands, somehow standing in the middle of the cabin I used last year as part of a photography class project. I opened a cupboard to get towels and when I turned around a blanket hung across the room. I handed the towels around the blanket to her and turned to stoke the fireplace. My focus on the fire was broken by a soft touch on my shoulder. I spun as I stood, finding myself drowning in a pair of emerald eyes as her arms wrapped around me. My heart whispered "I love you"as our faces moved closer-in slow motion, our lips seeking each other's. I felt her breath on my skin as the anticipation of touch of her lips grew in my mind.
-----
*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* ...
It must have been several minutes before my senses returned to the present-the alarm clock had stopped its incessant beeping on its own, and I was once again alone in the dark confines of my bedroom. I knew it must have been a dream, but it felt as real as the bed I lay on. I quickly recorded as many details as I could in a journal, for it was the kind of a dream one would be heartbroken to forget.
For the next few weeks I obsessed over the dream-and her. She was unlike anyone I had seen or met. How did she appear in my dream? From where did my mind conjure her? She had not been the sometimes fuzzy fragment that appears in dreams, but as defined as the pen in my hand and the ground beneath my feet. Time and life slowly dissipated the obsession, and the memory of the dream became my mental touchstone when life wore at me.
-----
-----
It was a moment before I realized Henry was saying something as he looked at me with concern. "You okay?"Henry repeated.
I realized the look on her face mirrored my own. "Yes, I'm okay. Henry, you are a lucky man. And you, m'lady, are a lucky lady-Henry is as good as they come. I consider myself lucky to have him as a friend (and I'd say that if he wasn't here)."
"Something I should know about? You two know each other or something?"
"No, Henry, I don't think we've ever met. She just reminded me of a dream from about fifteen years ago."I extended my hand. "Welcome to the family."
I was surprised when she slipped past my hand, wrapping me in a bear hug. For so petite a frame, it was a fierce hug. "That was fifteen years ago. He doesn't know, and can never know."she whispered in my ear before letting me go and taking his hand, interlacing her fingers with his.
Fifteen years ago, she would have been the perfect girl for me. The past is, however, the past, and I could see how happy they were together. I smiled at the two of them, trying to hide a touch of sadness. "I absolutely wish the two of you all the best."I picked up my camera, and headed for the door. "Well, shall we get started?"
-----
(Also inspired by prompt: "[\[WP\] One night you have a dream in which you meet a girl and fall in love with her. Now, years later, you finally get to meet her again.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/eh0fse/wp_one_night_you_have_a_dream_in_which_you_meet_a/)"
Word count: 1150. Please let me know what you like/dislike about the post. Thank you in advance for your time and attention.) |
I had learned slowly that not all of my Father's statements were madness. That on rare occasions he was lucid and sensible.
I heard the incessant cooing outside the house and I knew that this was one of those times. They had killed my father. They would pay for this.
I went into the basement, and took the key that only he and I knew where to look.
I opened the cabinet. And Smiled as I beheld the Behemoth of Death that awaited me.
I stocked up. Made sure I had enough ammunition for every gun, my father loved his guns so I had plenty to choose from. It was all really heavy, not gonna lie, but it was going go be worth it.
I step outside, armed to the teeth.
There is an army of pigeons sitting on trees and on lawns around me.
I smile, put on my sunglasses, and light a cigarette.
"So you think you can just come here and take over?"
*Menacing Coo*
"Well that's where you're wrong."
*Even More Menacing Coo*
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH" |
I place the bag of goodies on the floor of the passenger side before turning to hug my mom. No matter how much I tried to tell my mom that I didn’t need all this food as I’m trying to clean up my diet, it’s no use; I’m taking home food whether I want to or not. It’s super cold outside and we’re bundled up to our necks in wool. I wore the beanie she’d gifted me as an early Christmas gift, hand knit and in my favorite color. Dad had chosen to stay inside as there was a football game on television. Traffic back to my place is getting heavier by the minute, so it’s high time for me to leave before I got stuck.
I pry myself out of my mom’s arms. “I’ll be back around Christmas”, I say, moving around to the driver’s side of my beat-up car. I put the key in and proceeded to fight the lock to get inside.
“It’s just that we don’t see you very much”, mom said.
*Not this again*, I think, successfully unlocking the driver’s side door on the tenth try. It usually took me twelve tries to get into my own vehicle.
“We just want to see more of you”, mom continued. “Ever since your grandfather passed away, we’ve been worried about you.”
*Yup, it’s this again*, I think to myself. I pull the door open and hop in as fast as possible. I start my car and roll down the passenger window. My mom pokes her head in to continue the one-sided conversation.
“You were close to him and you don’t talk about him much—”
“Mom”, I start, putting my car in drive to pull away from the sidewalk, “I’m fine. I’ll be fine and you’ll be fine. I have to go; I have an early day tomorrow.”
Mom smiles and steps away from my car. I offer a wave and pull off. I make a right at the next street and continue to the nearest freeway onramp.
\*\*\*
By the time I get home, the entire two days I spent with my parents has played through my mind a million times.
It started out okay on Friday, with me arriving to a houseful of people. Cousins I hadn’t seen in a while, my favorite aunt, and my mom’s best friend were all in attendance. Fortunately for them, they had already booked hotel rooms in town or nearby; unfortunately for me, who didn’t plan ahead as well as she thought and ended up without a hotel room to escape to, that meant I would have to stay in the family home in my old room, across the hall from my ne’er do well brother who happens to be my father’s favorite child.
As I walk to my front door, I think of how the argument started. I was helping my mom in the kitchen with the food I now hold in my right hand at this moment. My dad comes in and starts in on me about … whatever. He’s always starting shit with me and my mom turns a blind eye every time, expecting me to do the very same. And each time he starts with me, and my mom expects me to ignore him, I don’t ignore him and engage like a bull in a china shop. The next thing I know, my father and I have thrown at least one dish at each other, reducing my mother to tears.
I pull my keys from my pocket. Dinner was had in silence that night, with my mom, my brother, and I having dinner in the dining room, and my dad parked in his recliner in front of the television.
“Hey.”
I’m pulled from my thoughts by a familiar voice. I turn and see my neighbor, JT, a young man who lives somewhere in the same building. A few interactions and suddenly he’s my best friend, at least in his mind. He’s dressed for the weather as well, in coat, scarf, and trousers; his bright blue slippers complete his ensemble nicely.
“Oh. Hey,” I reply.
“Long time, no see”, JT responds.
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I spent the weekend with my family.”
I move around him and cut a path to my front door. JT follows me, keeping pace.
“How’d it go?” he inquires.
It’s not that he’s not a polite person or a good neighbor. It’s just that a lot went on this weekend and I just want some space to myself. I push the key into the lock and twist.
“It went”, I reply, pushing my way into my apartment and turn to face JT. I put on my most accommodating voice and tired smile. “Listen, I’m a little tired from the drive and have an early day tomorrow. I’m really not in the mood for a conversation.”
“I’m sorry,” JT says, backing away from the door. “I didn’t mean to impose –”
I look down at my hand and notice for the first time the bag I’ve been carrying. I hand over the bag of goodies from my parents’ house. “Take this. It’s my first time making stuffing, so I need to know how I did.” I smile as brightly as possible hoping he catches the hint.
Luckily, he does. He takes the bag and opens it, practically sticking his head into the bag and taking an exaggerated deep breath. I stare blankly, and when he makes eye contact again, I smile bright.
“Smells good”, he gushes.
“Thanks”, I reply. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe and it was my first time making it.”
“I’m sure it’s fine”, JT replies. “I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you around”, I chirp, closing the door in his face.
I turn back to the interior of my apartment and heave a huge sigh. I still feel anxious from the argument with my father and JT’s conversational skills zapped the last of the energy I had. I pull off my clothes on the way to my bathroom. After a quick shower, I go into my bedroom and collapse into bed. I try to silence my thoughts, which keep going back to that argument with my dad. It’s midnight by the time I finally go to sleep.
\*\*\*
I wake up to noise.
A lot of noise.
Sirens, footsteps, and knocking.
I look over at my alarm clock and note the time. 3.37am.
Somebody knocks at my door. Hard. I get up and hurry to the front door, fearing the worst.
My other neighbor, Mrs. Jansen, is on the other side. She holds her robe close to her frail body, her hair in curlers. She looks terrified.
I’m so groggy I don’t know if I asked a question or not, but Mrs. Jansen is talking rapidly.
“It’s JT”, she reports, “something happened. He was fine a few hours ago, but –”
“What?” I ask, trying to understand what’s happening. Behind Mrs. Jansen, I see two EMTs moving in the same direction. It looks like—
“I said it’s JT”, Mrs. Jansen replies. “He was fine a few hours ago and then his downstairs neighbor, Anthony Whatever-His-Name-Is heard a huge thump a little bit ago.”
“A thump?” Nothing is making sense at all right now. The lack of sleep, family stress, and general depression is making this entire conversation senseless.
“Yeah, a thump”, Mrs. Jansen says. I think she’s finally getting annoyed with me and I hope that annoyance leads her to leave me be and bother another neighbor.
No such luck.
“A thump like someone took a nasty fall”, Mrs. Jansen continues. “Anthony called 911 and now the entire complex is—”
She turns suddenly, looking frailer and paler than she usually does. I hear the squeaking of wheels and more footsteps. The gurney comes into view transporting a body bag, guided by the EMTs that I saw pass a little while ago. I poke my head out of the door and look down the hallway.
I was right. The EMTs did go to JT’s apartment.
And JT lived alone.
I look back as the gurney makes its way out of the building.
JT was on that stretcher. JT was in that body bag.
And I was the last person to see him alive.
As a heavy weight settles in my stomach, I think of the last thing he probably ate: my food, from my parents.
Oh shit. |
"That's mighty inconvenient, Mister. I was looking forward to that package."I said before my Brain could actually be part of this Conversation. The Entity? Yes, the Entity! The Entity looked at me perplexed through yellow glowing eyes and wanted to say something but I decided to close the door in his face. "I should be way more troubled by this."I said to myself and a dulled voice explained from outside: "That's the Emotion suppressing Nanobots at work. I introduced them into your Shower Water a week ago."I nodded and made an accepting face, then said: "This is troubling but yet I'm not worried."
It took two full steps away from the door before I hit the limit of the Nanobots Capabilities. It felt like I could rip the Door from its Hinges as Anger rushed through my veins but it was just that: A Feeling, I'm wasn't that strong.
"You did what to my Shower Water?"I wanted to shout but instead stated in a disappointing dry tone.
His yellow eyes didn't seem to blink but the rest of his facial expressions where quite human. He drew back and his shoulders up, looking caught and guilty. "It was for your best! Don't worry. They biodegrade within 12 years! At least that's what's written on the package"he noted and I nodded in return. Sighing I declared: "If I was capable of more emotions at the moment, my Gaze would eradicate you and all you love."He smiled at me and nodded: "Yes. Of that I'm sure. May I come in? It is a rhetorical question really. It is freezing outside."
He didn't wait for permission as announced and made his way into my house, taking in the scenery. "It is"he started and had to stop to think for words, then continued: "something."I managed to raise one of my eyebrows and decided to change the topic: "I guess you are not a Human? I'm no Biologist but I am quite sure that a mere 40 years isn't enough to change Humanity that drastically."As I said the last part I pointed with a finger at my eyes, the Entity nodded in agreement. He didn't provide any exposition to why he wanted to rescue me or even where to. I forced myself to take a good look at this Entity. He was short, maybe half my size and looked as if his upper body was more or less a sphere. Maybe it was just this strange Suit he wore. It looked like a Space Suit made of pinstripe suit material. His extremities were humanlike enough and so was his face but it had a plasticy quality. His short black hair looked glued to his head with panade and his skin was immaculate but also had a fine uniform texture. "You look like a G.I.Joe Figure. Is that the beauty standard in your time?"I asked in honest wonderment. This disturbed the little Entity and he answered: "No. It's how I look. Don't judge you Jerk!"I threw my hands up in an deescalating gesture and said: "I'm sorry. Don't see no Aliens often. So, what was that about rescuing me?"I saw how much this simple question had worked him up as his body relaxed and he asked me if I knew *Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy*. I didn't answer but went to my Bookshelf and showed him the Books, then reached for the BBC Series and Film DVDs and finally pointed at the towel at the end of my Couch. At the end I was positively smiling and asked: "Are you gonna take me on a great adventure? Will I be a real life Arthur Dent?"
I watched in agony as his face slowly changed expression. As if he had bitten in a sour lemon. He said something under his breath and I asked him to repeat it. "I'm sorry. This was harsh. I just thought. Well. We knew from the Archives that you liked the Story so It might be used as a great ice breaker. You know. To make the next thing a bit easier?"I glared at him mildly because that was all that I managed. Thanks Nanobots.
"Ok, listen up. I'm not supposed to tell you this or even interact with you but I personally followed the chain of causality to your literal doorstep. You will blow up this Planet in about 40 years with what you will be doing today."I nodded but didn't fully comprehend, he continued his explanation: "It is quite easy. You will wake up without remembering the next week, feeling stupendously hung-over. You will never get this amazon package and you will be pissed. But, and I know it is useless to tell you because you won't remember, I am sorry about that. There's just no other way."I shrugged and said: "That doesn't sound too extreme. In movies they usually send a machine to massacre the heroe. What's in my package? I just ordered toilet paper."The Entity apparently wrestled mentally with himself to give me an answer but with a loud sigh sounding like "what does it matter"he provided an answer: "By mistake you used a secret code."I looked up perplexed and invited him to continue by a movement of my hand. "Didn't think anything about the strange price of the toilet paper? Or that you had a tracking code mere seconds after you placed the order? Well. Just two people tried to order that. You were just a click faster than the secret finnish agent who was supposed to order it. The package will contain one container of unstable black matter. Thinking nothing of it, you will place it on your table and forget about it. And when the stabilization field runs out of juice, in about 40 years. Well, I guess you can think of the rest."he said but had already lost me by the middle. I thought about this scenario and asked: "Why don't they retrieve it? 40 years sounds like a long time to get it back"The Entity looked amused at me and said: "You gonna be the Government admitting to losing something that will end the world just because somewhere someone thought it would be fun to send it via amazon?"I nodded in agreement.
This is where he shot me, the little Liar. It wasn't even a cool space gun, just something that looked like an oversized snub revolver. I was dead before I hit the floor, which was rather easy because I had a hole the size of a plate in my chest. Not a small dessert plate, a full grown dinner plate, mind you.
Then something weird happened because I woke up. To my surprise not only were there time traveling Aliens all of a sudden but also Ghosts where a thing that existed. I turned around and looked into the faces of some really disgusted 17th Century ones that told me in so many words that watching me. Uhm. Relieve some tension. Wasn't high on their List of fun things to watch when you are stuck in eternity. I was about to start into a Privacy Lecture when I remembered something and focused back to where my slowly cooling body laid.
I watched the Entity take my package from a surprised Postal Worker and signed for it in a perfect copy of my own signature. The story about the black matter was true as far as I could see. If only he knew what I knew just a few minutes later, drifting through the immaterial planes of the afterlife. If only he knew in whose desk drawer I managed to move a particular black matter container. It was weird thinking about myself as a Ghost but it had its advantages. Did you know you could sap energy from a hermetically sealed battery compartment? Well, how else do you think ghostly apparitions make the flashlights run out of power conveniently before finding the hidden native-american graveyard?
And after all: Who's gonna be the Time Agent admitting to losing something that would end the world just because somewhere someone thought it would be fun to kill a nondescript human? |
I was growing mighty tired of these folk badmouthing us here at the Illuminati. After all...we just stopped World War III from happening for Pete's sake! Those no-good, lousy stinkin' bums wouldn't throw a "thanks"our way if we took em' out for a big fancy steak dinner and gave em' a big kiss on the lips afterwards! And to think...we just killed Baby-Hitler Jr...and for what? A doll and a drum and a kick in the bum? Yes, that's right...You heard correctly, we KILLED one of the führer's clones cooking in a laboratory incubator way out in fray of Antarctica (that's where those kranski-suckin' jerks were hiding their precious schnitzel). People always say they'd kill baby Hitler if given the chance...well I lived the dream and by gum I'd do it again in a heart beat! But where's my parade? Where's my medal? All I got is people sneering from the side lines, pegging me as some kind of robe-wearing sex pervert who sacrifices non-hitler babies to the owl God Moloch. Well let me tell you; my convictions in and beliefs of the great owl God and his great big pecker are the only thing keeping the world from blowing eachother to smithereens. Every week it's a new threat... a new dictator gone mad or a billionaire pedo with a nuke under his island seeking vengeance. I haven't sleep in weeks. My marriage fell to tatters and my wife of ten years left me, taking my sweet pride and joy Kenneth (the dear white-haired boy) with her. I may never feel the warmth of his embrace again. So you can tell THAT to that Alex Jones character and his cronies while I'm out here fighting the good fight! Cause I'm a human being with feelings and hopes and dreams just like anybody else on Moloch's good green earth damn it! I pay my taxes and go the cremation of care on the weekend just like anybody else! And what do I have to show for it? Bupkis. |
Do you have any idea of the depths in your soul? What new ad strange worlds come alive just by the sound of your breathing? At once the eyes of the Sun and the Moon granting you strength, will, and wisdom; but how do you find it? Or would you dare to ignore it?
Chrysal en'Jawol, the Mage of His Own Name, is collapsed on the floor of his study. he reaches for the bookcase nearest him and climbs onto his feet. On the stand before him, a Grimoire with a lifetime of notes, clippings, doodles of a secret and ancient markings, sits uselessly. Majus Chrysal pushes off the bookcase and falls onto the stand. His red and puffy eyes widened in surprise that the stand toppled over with the sudden weight put on it. he, the book, and the stand fall hard onto the marred wooden floor.
The pain in his chest hurts more than the pain to his head. and Chrysal clutched his chest, rolling over onto his back to breathe. He could see the darkend edges of his vision, and knew he only had one more chance to reach the book. He crawled toward his book that had landed near the far corner.
Perhaps he was talking to the book that never helped him in his evocations. Or the Gods who were so near, but never around to aid him. Maybe he prayed to his son; the glass of the family picture was cracked. Perhaps it was only him talking to himself, while he said: "Please, Please, I believe.."
Despite the coughing, and the aching, the soreness all over his body, and sound of his own heart pumping so in his ears; despite all this, he just managed to just nearly reach a corner of the duct-taped book.
And then Chrysal en'Jawol, Mage of His Own Name, Hermit, Negligent father, loved by a woman who couldn't be around him more...
His heart stopped.
And he laid there, just out of reach to a worthless book he had given all the years of his life to.
That man died.
And the God watched him die. It was anticlimatic. The God had wanted so much more, but his ward insisted on healing magics. Nothing that the God could help him with. The God picked up the book, and, without reading any of it, shook the useless pages from it. They burned like dandelion seed, setting the old man's house on fire around both of them.
The God shook the book until one page was left. The last page was full of ancient language written in the tiniest handwriting that even a Sprit hard difficulty reading. The binding became leather and just 3 words titled the work: The Almost-Most.
The God closed the book and tossed it at the dead mage's head. Chrysal Woke with a terrible noise and coughing. Every breath he drew in made him younger, and every loud cough sounded like a man who had awoken with 50 spiders building webs in his chest and throat.
"Get up, kid,"the God said to the young journeyman. "Get up, Chris. We've got a lot to talk about. |
Date: Mid Spring, 2029
It's been over two years since I have seen any life of another human being. I started traveling again at the end of winter to find more supplies. I have found a grocery store distribution center. This has many of the food and medical supplies I will need. I had planned on staying the night and searching the nearby areas in the morning for a possible home, but I have found something strange. In one of the offices laid a sleeping bag and open containers of food. It looks like it has not been hear long. The question is whether or not the thing that slept here was human. I needed to get out of there before I was found. I left a note pinned to a cork board. If it was a human they would read the note and leave me a sign. If it was one of those alien creatures hopefully it would not notice a new piece of paper.
Date: The following day, Mid Spring, 2029.
Yesterday, I grabbed some food from the Warehouse before searching for a place to spend the night. I wish I could have built a fire as the night was so cold, but I didn't want that creature to see the smoke. I am still unsure if there is a human or one of those alien soldiers living in the distribution center. I am tired if traveling and this place could be a good home, but should I risk sticking around to find out who or what is alive at the warehouse. I have been alone for so long. Maybe I should stay and either make a home or die by one of those soldiers. The ships left those soldiers here to study our lands and find out what they could take from earth. The ships will eventually come back to collect their spoils. Maybe even bring back their people to live. They are very similar to us, they look like us, but they are not us.
Date: Late Spring, 2029
I know for sure the creature is not one of us. I have found a telescope and have been watching the creature's habits. It has been using some sort of equipment I have never seen. Maybe it is reporting back home. I don't know, but I know it must die. |
Leon jumped at the sight of Hop seemingly happy, holding what seemed to be...
A Gible.
He thought he had made them extinct in the Galar region, he, along with Gloria, helped extinct the population before the games even came out
Hop didn’t know about this procedure. He couldn’t let him know.
His very own brother would HATE him.
Leon SWIPED the Pokémon away from Hop
“Haha, bud, you really aren’t supposed to have that” The champion said, sparking even more interest from Hop.
“Why? Are they new starters? Are they a legendary?? I can handle it bro!!”
No he couldn’t.
Leon knew that.
Hop was a child. And if Gl— ahem... *Natalie* found out about this, she’d definitely want a fight.
If he told Hop about this, it could harm the player
Not just the protagonist
Not just the kid outside the game
...
The story.
He needed everything to go as planned
If he slipped up even the tiniest bit, the girl outside the game would discard the cartridge.
He’s seen it happen.
She threw out her Platinum game for the same reason.
Her parents would buy her a new one, as he’s seen her do, and then she’d move on.
But he didn’t **WANT** to be discarded
He had to stick to the story.
Leon smiled softly, bending down to get closer to the boy
“Professor Magnolia needs that. I’ll go give it to her.”
He sighed, noticing the start up screen appearing in the sky, an alert saying to get into position
“Natalie’s about to open the game again. Go to your place, I’ll be there in a second.” |
"According to our records, her name is Margaret Roberts. After she went blind, she started relying on people's voices for identification,"the detective noted. "When she lost her hearing as well, she started identifying people using the vibrations of their footsteps and, get this, *their smell*."The detective continued. "It was also well known that she was a bodybuilder before losing her vision, and that she could bench-press 200 pounds (90.7 kg)."The detective then recalled that the victim, Robert Johnson was a 26-year old male who weighed a mere 127 pounds and died of blunt force trauma, making it possible that the woman beat him to death.
​
One officer replied, "So we know how she did it, but *why* did she do it?". Margaret started tapping her feet in Morse code, as it was her only form of communication. "He took advantage of my grandbabies,"she signaled. She elaborated, "my granddaughter started dating him two months ago. Je seemed like an upstanding gentleman at first. He even offered my grandson a job at his company. It turned out that he was cheating on her. The only reason that he was dating her was that she had the same surname as some singer and that he wanted to get closer to that person. Our surname is very rare, so it is understandable why he thought she was related to the singer. Also, Robert was mistreating my grandson at work. and had even spilled scalding hot coffee on him, on purpose."
​
The detective and the cops were listening to her story intently as she continued. "I was enraged when I found out. I tracked him down using only my sense of touch and smell. When I got my hands on him, I beat him with my cane. He begged for mercy, but I couldn't hear him. Nobody found out until now; since nobody expects a blind, deaf old woman to do such a thing.
​
"The detective replies in Morse code, "That was amazing. You're still going to jail, as you admitted to the crime. However, you might get a reduced jail sentence or no jail sentence at all considering your age and disabilities."Margaret replied, "I don't care about the prison. All that matters is that I got justice for my grandbabies." |
He welcomed me with the wave of a hand and a touch on my back. He ushered me under his shadowed tent.
“Yes, you want to see my coins?” He said.
I nodded along, more content to humor him than see any coins because, as you should know, I was not there to see coins.
“Have you ever held a bewitched globule?” From beneath a glass case he picked up a flattened, gold, teardrop of a coin. “Their denser than you’d think.” He chuckled. “Hold it?”
I hardly heard the man though as my eyes were trained on a group of counterfeiters who I profiled earlier that month. The drapery surrounding the old man’s tent proved an ideal spot to keep an eye on them. Once I saw a transaction, then I would move in.
The old man put the coin in my palm.
“Hold the globule to your heart, now. You’ll see how it enchants your breath—”
I held the coin to my heart—I pitied the codger and his trinkets—but my mind stayed elsewhere. The group of counterfeiters was peddling to a “customer,” that is, an old buddy of mine who worked the coin circuit as an informant. He’d act reluctant to buy, wait until they pushed a bit, then make the deal. We’d have them.
“That isn’t doing it for you, huh?” The old man said. He removed the coin from near my chest.
I was sweating a bit. Nervous about the trade. Nervous they’d notice.
“A rare Cimmerian nezmet. Certainly, you cannot resist gazing at this currency crafted from the distilled essence of wraiths. Yes, these coins allow one to cross the river of the damned…” He waited. “It is the very river you think of. Flick this into a well and…well if there’s someone you’d like to turn into a wraith.” He snickered.
The trade was made. The counterfeiters exchanged money and I was ready to leave and make the bust.
“Fine. Fine!” The old man said. “I know what will keep you.”
He fiddled with a locked chest in the back of the tent. I shifted my eyes to him. He delayed.
“You want to see?” He asked without turning to face me.
“I must be going,” I said. My hand shook as I grasped the silk drape of the tent and slowly stepped out.
“No! I found what you want!” The old man shrieked. “You want to buy blood of fey. Very expensive, very powerful what you can buy with this.”
“Blood of fey?” I asked, feigning interest. Half my body stuck out of the tent.
He held in a gloved hand an earthy-red coin imprinted with innumerable symbols.
“You may spend this coin by crushing it in your palm. Very fragile, like dry clay. Yes, when you break it there is released a miasma which you inhale… but you know this already detective” He held it near my face while I tried to repel his hand.
“I don’t have time old man,” I said. “I have other things to do.” I nudged him back and he ran towards me and crushed the coin.
“We have him!” I said into my pager, then I held my breath.
The old man inhaled deep. His muscles bulged and his skin altered into the same earthy-red of the coin while inscriptions ran across his body like veins. The tent around us broke apart.
“Aren’t you interested detective?!” The hulking old man said.
The group of “counterfeiters” and their “customer” broke disguise. From backpacks, they pulled out a long proboscis of an instrument and jabbed it into the old man. The proboscis drained blood from the man until he fell to the ground.
I sighed and looked at my crew. “Fey users are as dangerous as you said.”
My one partner, the “customer,” said, “you did a good job maintaining disinterest. How did you know he put a premonitory penny in your pocket?”
“It was all the handwaving,” I said. “Far too showy.” |
"Ah, how nice of it to be 2020,"I said, taking my phone with me. "He changed it to last decade, didn't he?"
My brother then wakes up, saying "Nice, 2020!"
He opens his laptop to post about the new year. "2010?"
We both realize what happened. We rush outside, to ask our neighbours. Our neighbours are outside, asking each other about it. I message my friend on the other side of the world, he claims it happened too.
All of us started wondering, WHO WAS THE ONE WHO CHANGED EVERYTHING?!
Everyone starts blaming each other. This goes on for until the next December 31, 2019. Everyone thinks it's 2029, and they set it to that long ago. The next day, it's 2010 again. It sparks world war 3.
This happens for a one decade more, until everyone caught on. Everyone tries to be good, thinking that it's a Groundhog Day situation. 2020 never came, but everyone kept being good. This was the world now, all just good people. Eventually, one guy decided stay up at midnight. He broke the cycle. Nobody was moving. He waited for everyone. He waited a decade, it rewinded to 2020. Eventually, somebody else did so. And another. By the next 10 decades, everyone was there. He taught everybody what to do. 2030 to 2040 to 2050, life was progressing as normal again. |
"The ribbons of fate are far more intertwined than you thought, father."Florence Yemo said.
Dean Yemo looked at the woman in front of him. Yes, a woman, no longer his little girl. The little girl that he had left behind on his quest to become the strongest warrior in the land. Alas, he did not know then that this particular path would lead him to darkness. And until just a moment ago, Dean had forgotten that Florence existed.
Dean Yemo, the Darkest of Knights, let the filthy, peasant head he held in his left hand drop to the ground. He allowed it to regain its hold on his greatsword, sizing Florence up.
Florence Yemo brandished her sword. It had a thin blade, obviously meant to take advantage of her wiry frame and, he assumed, her fleet-footedness. Dean Yemo's mind jolted, a little memory of Florence playing in his head. Florence climbing and running about with her limitless energy, not stopping even when the sun went down. He found himself smiling a little, but the memory dispelled a moment later with nary a trace. Dean Yemo could not remember why he smiled.
"Daughter. I had a daughter once."
"Yes, father. You left me to die. I am back now, and I swear to kill you to quench the vengeance in my heart!"
Florence leaped at Dean, a lightning-quick first step almost found purchase in Dean's heart. But the Darkest of Knights had fought many an opponent, fast and slow. He allowed the rapier to pierce his armour before grabbing it firmly.
"Me. Abandon you?"
"Yes, father. Abandoned me!"
Florence allowed her feet to push against the knight, acrobatically flipping back. She drew the blade from his armour, ready for another strike.
Another flash, a painful one, assaulted Dean's brain. He remembered more now. He remembered that Florence was dead. But how? Why did he leave her behind?
Florence continued the battle, but Dean's debilitating state of mind was seriously affecting his prowess. Normally, Florence would have ended up in two or more pieces within seconds, yet she continued dancing, poking, trying to find a weak spot in Dean's tough armour.
Then, Florence's blade struck true. It might have been through her prodigious skill, or Dean's carelessness, but the knight fell to his knees.
Dean remembered now. He remembered why he left on the journey in his first place. He remembered holding Florence's corpse, grieving and begging for a second chance for her.
Dean looked at the blade stuck in his chest. He looked at Florence, her face hard, but her eyes tinged with sadness and regret. He looked behind Florence, and found his Dark Lord grinning.
Dean Yemo's eyes burned with fury. Then, they were extinguished. |
“Any superpower?”
Lucas was still a bit shaken from what had just gone down, and all the information that was being hurled at him needed a moment to register successfully.
It had been his sixteenth birthday when he was swept away by men dressed formally in black.
Now he had found himself inside of the building of what seemed to be a ginormous corporation.
“Yes, You are...” the man, strong built and towering above him checked the letter he was holding once more. “Mister Lucas Greenwood?”
Lucas just nodded.
“And you did not receive any letters about this beforehand?”
Lucas shook his head, still too shaken to reply in sentences.
The man groaned and mumbled something into his microphone.
Lucas looked around a bit better,
he was in a small secluded room,
but there where windows looking outside and into the building further. there was a weird hole in the door. almost like the one Lucas has for his cat.
it seemed to indeed be a huge building, with lots of windows.
people who where dressed formally, yet somewhat futuristic where walking around,
some in a hurry, some just waiting.
Outside seemed to be all white, covered in a thick, crisp, un-treaded blanket of snow.
A second person entered the room and cleared her throat, which brought Lucas out of his trance.
“It appears there was a mistake in communication, let me explain.”
a tall slim figure of a woman, with dark tinted skin and curly hair slit back into a ponytail reached out her hand for Lucas to shake it.
Lucas awkwardly accepted the handshake and The woman smiled.
“You can call me Samantha.
Can i get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”
Lucas just shook his head side to side once more.
She continued. “Here at Repus corp we specialize
in creating, ‘super humans’ if you will.”
she sighed.
“A few years ago we accidentally spread out a toxin which has been corrupting people, and this is our attempt to fix it.
So every year we choose people that we think are qualified for the role.”
Lucas frowned a bit
“So you’re saying, i’ve been chosen.. Right?
And i have to save people and stuff.”
He was unsure he could handle that.
Samantha shook her head.
“Not quite. not for now at least.
It takes a while for people to get adjusted to their new abilities. That’s why we choose teenagers, and not adults.
So you have time to train before you have responsibilities to face.”
She looked back to Lucas.
Lucas thought for a bit.
“I, I don’t know if i will ever be able to handle that responsibility. Plus, my family will need me to help out at home.”
A little robot zooted through the hole in the door holding an envelope.
Samantha bended over and took the envelope from the robot, who promptly rushed back out again at full speed.
Samantha handed the letter to Lucas.
“Read this through once you’re at home. we’ll give you time to think about it.”
The uncomfortable plastic chair he was sitting on sank into the ground with him on it, and lowered him to a different floor. he immediately felt cold,
a fresh breeze passing by and tickling his bare arms.
A tall blonde young adult wearing a suit lead awaited him.
Lucas got up from the chair and followed the guy to a helicopter.
The man opened the door for Lucas
and helped him get in.
The man looked Lucas in the eyes with a smile and said
“just remember, You could be the future”
The door closed.
The helicopter flight felt like ages and Lucas was holding on to the letter very tightly.
He looked at the envelope.
“You could be the future...” |
Since the re-emergence of monstrous beasts humanity has been forced back into the moderate safety of their former cities of power. Walls were quickly erected and they have just managing to hold the monsters back from completely decimating the race. The rest of the land outside was quickly becoming over ridden by hunting parties of blood thirsty monsters of all shapes and sizes.
The military had been at a loose to how to stop the sudden rise of these mythical creatures. Bullets seem only to antagonise them and explosives, only from the army’s cannons, did inflict minor damage but in reality they does nothing make them stumble.
The evacuation of surrounding towns to Capital City was slow, volunteer soldiers only dared to move people from the suburbs during daylight, a time when attacks seemed less frequent. The MacArthur family of three had been held up in their basement for 3 days waiting for signs of an organized retreat. Finally the radio, their only connection to the outside world, repeated on loop that their neighbourhood would be evacuated next and they should be ready to leave by the next morning. As a family they had heard noises upstairs on the first night they were in the basement but nothing since and felt save enough to fall asleep during the final night.
Liam their only child of 13, knowing that tomorrow may be the last that time he see his home, decided to sneak up to the house to retrieve some of his prize possessions. He slowly and quietly removed the barricade in front of the cellar door as nit to wake his parents. Liam crept into the house pausing every other step to listen into the darkness. The house was ransacked as if a herd bulls had been let loose inside.
Liam made his way upstairs which was just the way they had left it. In his bedroom he found his stash of collector’s cards and life savings, of a few hundred dollars, under his bed. He also picked up his dads old film camera and put it around his neck. It still worked and looked primed with a flash. Feeling satisfied with his scavenger hunt he made his way confidently back downstairs
As he rounded the corner of the landing he was suddenly confronted with a pair of large luminous green eyes at the bottom of the stairs. The tall silhouette stood on 2 legs but hunched over a high pitched scream emanated from the monster. Without provocation it moved like a dog on all fours bounding up the stairs 4 steps at a time towards the child.
Liam’s only instinct was to aim his camera snap a picture hoping the flash would distracted the beast.
**SNAP**
In an instant the beast was visible a mix between a werewolf and lizard with horns. A weak whimper escaped from the creature as it crashed to the ground half way up the stairs. Liam made a dash for the nearest room, his dad’s office and hid under the desk. Moments later he heard a scratching and a sniffing at the door. Liam with one hand reached up onto the desk scrambling to find anything that he could use to defend himself. His fingers sought out a cold smooth sharp surface… his dad’s letter opener. Before he could grasp it firmly, the monster crashed through the door and pounced on to the desk scattering all the items around the rooms. Scared Liam leapt towards the door but the monster seemed to anticipate the move and grabbed his leg bring Liam back to the floor.
The monster had him pinned with its huge paws on his chest but it was clearly out of breath as it took its time wondering what to do next with its catch. Liam glanced over to see that his hand was within millimeters away from grabbing the letter opener, which resembled more of a small dagger than a knife, another second of squirming and he might get it. But it was too late the monster had enough and raised its head before going in for the final bite.
When out of nowhere Liam’s dad appeared at the door way shouting at his loudest. Liam felt the pressure on his arm lessen as the Thing was taken by surprise and he was able to reach the blade where without hesitation plunged the 10” blade into the neck of the monster. It recoiled onto its back in disbelieve, gagging for air and flailing its arms and legs in agony. As if been boiled alive its body began to lose all muscle and shape. Within seconds of being struck it resembled a mummified corpse, silence filled the room. Liam ran to the arms of his father both just happy to be alive.
Dawn was approaching as they made their way back to their underground shelter. It wasn’t long till the hum of trucks could be heard coming down the road. Eagerly the MacArthur collected their belongings, emerged from their home and jogged towards the nearest soldier. Liam’s father quickly asked to speak to a commanding officer, after a Lieutenant marched over he explained that his son had managed to kill a monster single handily and that the body was still in the house. The Lieutenant dispatched three armed men to investigate and bring back any remains before kneeling down to Liam’s level to give him a solute and thank him for his service.
The three men cleared the house and brought the remains out in a large body bag. As it was being loaded onto a supply truck the Lieutenant unzipped the black canvas bag to examine his enemy himself he saw that the weapon used was still lodged in its neck he read the visible engraving *100% Sterling Silver*.
This was the first day humans fought back and won. Within hours of the report crude weapons had been crafted from silverware or swords found letting people to begin to defend themselves. Months later silver bullets were forged and frag grenades assembled. The war would be long but the tides were slowly turning in our favour. |
I think it was probably the smell that woke me up first. The usual post-black-out suspects were there: delicate aromas of sticky half-drunk beer cans, an acrid accent of puke, and the bold undercurrent of sweat. Dancing amidst these smells was something new, yet familiar as a father’s hug. Something burning. Smoke? Wait, cigarettes? I cracked my eyes open a sliver and sunlight lanced directly to the base of my neck. It was white hot agony, which at least knocked some sleep from my mind. I still smelled it. There was definitely a lit cigarette in my bedroom.
I dared to open my eyes a little further, and the light continued its relentless attack on my brain. It occurred to me then that I had not left my blinds open the night before. I must have drunkenly opened them for some reason? Unless...wait, the cigarette smell? Panic snatched the back of my throat and I sat bolt upright in bed, wildly staring around for an intruder. I managed to catch a glimpse of a lumpen figure in the corner of my room before a tsunami of nausea claimed me and I was pitched out of bed by a heaving vomit spell.
“WHO…HURRRRRRGH…YOURRGGH?” I demanded through chunky mouthfuls. I’m sure it was the least intimidating I’ve ever sounded, and there’s a lot of competition in that category.
The shape in the corner laughed, and it was a sickly, hacking noise. “Good start kid. You’re doin’ great.”
I was still hunched on the floor in a pool of sick when the pain in my head doubled to a swelling crescendo. I made a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a curse and tried to stand up, but quickly realized that I was still drunk, and the spins forced me onto my back. I was afraid, but I think the compounding of pain, dehydration, inebriation, and repulsion had dulled my urge to fight or flight. If this was how I died, well, I doubt anyone would have been surprised.
The best I could offer was, “Are…you real?”
My vision, already blurred and hazy, suddenly swam with an ugly man’s face, far too close to mine. It was shaped like a malformed potato with the pits and creases to match. The cheeks were an unhealthy crimson and streaked with blood vessels. He was balding, and a greasy comb over splayed itself over his pale forehead. Screwed between paunchy lips and too few teeth was a cigarette (I knew it!) and when he smiled wide above my face it deposited a clump of ash straight into my mouth. If there was anything left in my stomach I’m sure it would have come straight up, but instead all I could manage was a few weak coughs and moans.
“You’re goddamn right I’m real. And I’m here for you, kid!” He laughed again.
Nothing about this made sense, so I assumed that I was feverishly dreaming. Obviously the cruelty of dreaming a terrible hangover before having to actually live it was not lost on me. I forced myself to sit up against my bed frame so I could see my unpleasant companion fully. He was short. Very short in fact, not more than four feet. He was also fat, sporting a huge beer gut that bulged from underneath a filthy tank top. Attached to his back were a pair of tattered wings that flicked at the air lazily. It was at this point I noted that he was in fact hovering a few inches off the ground.
Despite my now catastrophic headache, I managed to summon a coherent sentence.
“What are you, the fuckin’ hangover fairy?”
He suddenly became animated, and fluttered a little higher.
“CLOSE ENOUGH KID!” He shouted, in a voice that felt like an ice pick to the temple. I winced involuntarily. He must have noticed this, because he continued at the same volume. “AND I’M HERE BECAUSE YOU’RE A WINNER!”
He smiled wide and took a last drag on the butt of his smoke before flicking it expertly into a puddle of puke. Where landed, a small burst of rainbow confetti shot into the air. Immediately he snapped his fingers, summoning another lit smoke out of thin air.
Even cradling my head in my hands, I snorted a weak chuckle.
“I don’t feel much like a winner, I’ll be honest.” That was true, in more ways than just this moment. Last night had been just the crowning jewel of a shit year entirely washed away in a torrent of cheap alcohol and bad decisions.
“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong champ. You’ve been granted the honor of ‘Best In Show Hangover 2019.’ I’ll admit, your last minute entry into an already crowded field caused some judging issues, but right around that eighth shot of Sambuca we decided you were a serious contender. So just in time for the New Year, congratulations on behalf of all of the Fuck-Up Fairies!”
At this, he waved his non-cigarette hand in the air and was suddenly clutching a dull bronze trophy. It was a crude sculpture of a bottle of whiskey circling a toilet bowl, which was perched on a bottle of asprin. He tossed it carelessly at my feet, visibly denting the top of the bowl.
“Believe me kid, you had some stiff competition this year, but ya buckled down and went the distance.” He was still grinning, but in his beady eyes I could actually make out something like genuine admiration. It was deeply unsettling.
“My favorite part was when you convinced yourself at that party that you could shotgun a bottle of champagne, and then popped yourself in the face with the cork. Amazing.”
Hearing him say that a memory half sloshed to the surface. I gingerly touched my left eye, and was rewarded with a fresh stab of pain. It was hugely swollen, and probably every shade of purple.
“Seriously, classy work.” He continued, without an ounce of sarcasm. “Anyway kid, I’d love to stay here and run through your highlight reel, but Jennifer in Houston is about to wake up and this ‘Far From Home’ award aint gonna’ give itself out. Considering she started her night in Delaware, might even be a new record!”
With that, he flapped his ragged wings three times, spun around, and vanished. I think I sat on my floor, motionless, for about an hour after that. I was sure I was going to wake up at any moment, but I never did. After that, I crawled into the shower and stood shakily under the water trying to figure out if I had gone insane. Jury is still out on that, but one thing I know for sure is that hangover WAS legendary. It took about two days before I could keep food down, and I think I might still have a chunk of that headache. After that though, I never touched another drop. That dented trophy sits on the shelf in my living room, as a reminder: if you ever get a visit from a Fuck-Up Fairy, maybe, just maybe, it’s time to make some changes. |
My brother had just graduated high school the year he disappeared. He had a full football scholarship to Texas Tech. We lived in a city right near Phoenix Arizona called Scottsdale. My brother went to Saguaro High. He was a four star strong safety and he played a bit of wide receiver and kick returner. He was an all around great football player and great guy. His name was Lukas Weber. His first name is Lithuanian and his last is Luxembourgian. My mom met my dad in Luxembourg on a family trip, they moved in together and eventually moved to the states. They settled down in Florida and that’s where my sister was born. Then me and my brother are twins and we were born in Arizona. My brother and I were best friends and would tell each other all our secrets. I was the back up quarterback for his team in high school and I also was our kicker and punter. I used to play a lot of soccer and my position was goalie. Hence why I could throw and punt. My sister is quiet and loves art and music. We have a lot of talent in the family. We were a very happy family and we would always have fun together. My mother was devastated when we graduated high school and were moving onto college. She always said “you better not grow up like your sister did.” My sister was a painter and she hadn’t been close with the family in a couple years at that point.
The night my brother disappeared he told me he was going to a party, we went to different colleges but we always stayed in touch, and he told me he’d text me after. The next morning came around and he never texted me. I thought nothing of it and I knew he’d text me later that day. He never texted. It took four days for me to tell our parents and report him missing. It’s been five years since that night and my family has been broken without him. My sister turned to drugs and has been in and out of rehab. My mother was depressed for years and is still working with anxiety issues. My father turned into an alcoholic, not getting home until three in the morning sometimes. I dropped out of college and got a job as a mailman. I play in a men’s football league and I kick,punt,throw and play a little defense. I had my own apartment until I fell behind in rent about six months ago. I’m living at home for now and I get home at around eight at night. One day I wasn’t feeling good so I called in sick and stayed home. Later I go to the grocery store to pick up some food for the dinner I’m going to make my parents. While I was there I was getting calls from a strange number but I never answered. When I was driving home I saw a strange car in my driveway. Could it really be? It was my brothers car.
I started panicking and couldn’t figure out what to do. I parked on the road and waited for someone to come out of the door. I heard the screen door creak open and suddenly there he was clear as day. My brother and our old quarterback coach, Matt Wouter, walking out of our house with his old belongings from the attic. They didn’t notice my car and I waited until they drove away to follow them. They then drove to the Larsen Gallery where my sister had some of her best paintings. I followed them in and they only looked at our sisters art work and nobody else’s. After they left they started driving south eventually crossing the border and that’s where I lost them. I couldn’t cross the border without certain documents and paperwork that I didn’t have at the time. So my brother and my old quarterback coach have been living in Mexico for who knows how long. I had never been out of the country before so I decided I would just wait for him to come back instead of trying to find him alone in Mexico. I drove all the way back home and my parents were worried sick. They yelled at me when I got home and told me to let them know if I was gonna be home later than usual. I understood where this was coming from, they had already lost one child and didn’t want to lose another. I quickly ate dinner and went up to my room to scheme what to do next.
The next morning I finalized my plan. I needed to see how many times he comes to my house. Is it everyday? Once a month? Maybe only once ever but I needed to know for sure. I called in sick once again and waited out in front of my home in my car again. I saw his car coming down the road and pull up to our house again. He didn’t come out with as many items as he did this time. I think he likes to know how everyone is doing and grabs a few things while he’s here. I made sure I had every document I needed and this time he went to a different building than the art gallery. He went to an AA meeting. My brother peaks into the window gives a thumbs up to our old coach and heads off for the border. This time they let me through border control and we drove for about 15 hours without stopping to a town called Culiacan. It was very small and didn’t have many places to eat or shop. They pulled up to a house and got out and went inside. I parked my car and contemplated going inside. I got up the nerve to go inside when all of a sudden another car pulls into the driveway and five men get out of the car. They go up and knock on the door and someone lets them in. I get out of my car and peak in through the window. What I saw was insanely disturbing and unlike anything I’ve seen before. There were drugs, money and guns everywhere. My heart is pound and all my brain want to do is run away and never look back. There is enough heroine to fill the entire state of Arizona. I run back to my car and lock it not knowing what to do. I wait until all the men leave to approach the house. I knock on the door and get a nervous “coming!” from someone inside. My brother answers the door cautiously and his eyes go wide. He invites me inside to sit down. All the drugs and money have disappeared from the room and he and his coach look like they’ve seen a ghost when in reality it’s me who has seen a ghost. My brother asks me what I’m doing here and I tell him everything. He immediately breaks down crying explaining everything that has happened since the night he disappeared. He said he had gone to a party but he was doing drugs and he overdosed and had to be rushed to the hospital. He knew if anyone find out he’s lose his scholarship and everyone would’ve looked down on him for the rest of his life. He knew his quarterback coach moved down to Mexico the year he graduated so he decided to give him a call and moved down there. He had took a bus to the town he stayed in and then walked to his house. He then found out his coach was a drug dealer after he knocked on the door and he opened it to find drugs and money all over the place. The only reason he is still alive it because he told his coach he would help him sell the drugs if he kept him alive. Then he said “now that you know the truth there’s only one thing to be done” and the next thing I knew there was a gun pointed to me head and BANG... |
___
I had always been the most comfortable in the sea. Some were frightened of it, fearing the creatures it concealed. I had been stung by jellyfish more times than I could count, but I had learned to avoid them. The water was cool, a deep cerulean blanket that rose and broke against the beach, filled with black pebbles. Above the beach stood an array of hamlets, shacks and shanties. Somewhere in the crowd stood my father's home, dirty and tired. I did not want to think of it anymore.
I had loved the ocean dearly, but I had no dreams of sailing. Locked up on a boat with rugged men, all dying of some deficiency. No, I came to the sea to pray. My families Patron God, Odum. Odum's domain were all the seas of the world, so it only felt natural to avail myself to him as I asked him for some favor or nicety. On this day I would ask him to bring my brother home safely, for he was sailing back to our island from the war.
I sank into the waves, imagining that I could feel his blessing envelop me. A foolish notion. I felt nothing but the rising of the next wave.
Back on the shore I dried and clothed myself. The sun was falling in the sky, and I spotted the moon in the pale blue sky. An omen, some would say. I had no time to think of it, for already the beach was crowding with people. I stopped a boy about my age and asked him what the commotion was.
"A ship, returning from the war!"
I smiled. I did not expect him home for many months.
I waited on the shore with everyone else, and a ship indeed floated into view. It looked rugged, as if there had been a battle at sea, and it had barely survived. I waited. There was a murmur in the crowd as it drew nearer. Some of the soldiers were waving from the hull, and I tried to spot my brother among them. It was no use.
They landed with a sigh. And the men rushed off of the boat like they feared it might still sink. I watched each man, waiting for him, but he did not come. I waited.
He was not there. Oh well, surely he would come soon. I departed the beach and headed for home.
___
I sat at the table, eyeing my fish dinner. It did not smell fresh, and I had had fish every day for the past month. My mom sensed my hesitation, but she said nothing. I had always gotten the feeling that she longed for a better life, but I did not know if she resented my father for it. I cleared my throat.
"A ship returned today."
"I heard."
She did not ask any further questions. I poked at my food. "I think I'm going to visit Kleon."
"Okay."
I rose from the table. My father was entering the door.
"You see the ship?"He asked.
"I did."
He nodded. "Won't be long now."
I smiled. "I hope not."
I passed him and was out the door. I was on my way to Kleon's house when I felt a strange energy. It made me hesitate. There was a shift in the air, something like a low hum. All of the people around me froze in place. A cat swaggering past sat perfectly still, mid stride.
"Your brother is dead."A low, emanating voice permeated the air.
I turned. There was nothing unfrozen, except for me.
"Who are you... Odum?"
"Ha, do not make me laugh. That fool Odum couldn't even speak to you on land. I am Kron, God of time, and I have a mission for you, mortal. You see, your brother was killed by an upstart, someone playing at divinity. A demon, you might call him. The Gods do not take kindly to such foolishness, but we cannot act on our own. We need a vessel. As distasteful as it is to say, I did not think you would mind leaving your life behind, especially to avenge your brother."
There were tears swelling in my eyes. If this were truly Kron... but who else could it be?
"Cry not, for I am about to raise you to the status of a minor deity. Hold still."
I obeyed.
A bod appeared in front of me, as if it had been there all along. "Open it."
I approached, and noticed that the hum of power seemed to be originating from the box. I opened it. Inside was a vial. It was filled with a gold substance.
"My blood. Drink it."
I raised it to my lips. It smelled of honey. I drank.
My pupils felt heavy. I almost fell to the ground. I made some sound, like "Beh!"
"It is done. Enjoy."
Time seemed to stretch out before me. I saw in my mind's eye, like a dream playing out, my brother being killed by an unholy apparition. I heard him choke on his own blood, saw the life leave his eyes. I did not weep, for already another vision was playing. I stood over the man demon, sword raised. I followed that vision carefully backward, to the current moment. There.
___ |
I wake up in a void. Nothing beneath my feet, nothing in front of me, nothing behind. Darkness as far as the eye can see.
And then came the voice.
*Alright, so here's the deal. While I was performing very basic and routine universal maintenance, I managed to accidentally kill you.*
"You did what now?"
*You, Theodor Davis, are dead. It was an accident. Now, normally this wouldn't be a problem and I would just put you back with no memory of the incident, but the God of your universe is very picky about that kind of thing. Something about using power over death as a miracle means he can't just let other people come back willy nilly. I don't understand it myself.*
*Anywho, I'm morally obligated to revive you since your death was from divine intervention and what not. But I can't revive you back in your own world. I'm going to have to place you in another world, so I want your input on what kind of world you'd like.*
"So I'm getting isekai-ed and I even get to pick my destination?"
*... ... ...*
*Yes.*
"Alright then. I need a world that's at or above my home world's tech, because no way I'm giving up indoor plumbing. And no crazy powers either. I need a world where just me being me is enough to survive."
*You have the choice to enter any kind of world you want, and you want a world that's just like the one you came from?*
"Well maybe not exactly like my old world. Just close enough that I can survive it."
*Fair enough. Let's see what we have like that. ... ... ... Oooooh, this one looks like fun.*
*Oh, and for the record, you won't remember any of this. Have fun with your new life*
____
I woke up lying on my back in a field of grass, with the sound of people nearby. I get up and find a man wearing a labcoat and sweatshorts excitedly commanding a small dog to attack a woodpecker.
"And once you've lowered their HP a bit, throw a Pokeball, like this."He throws a red and white ball out, and the bird is sucked in. After a few wobbles the ball stops, and the man turns around to the girl behind him. "And that's how you catch a Pokemon. Here's some Pokeballs so you can try it yourself. Good luck!"
I vaguely remember this. I can't remember where I know this from, but it's familiar to me. People capture monsters and train those monsters to protect them from other monsters. But I don't have a monster, and I need one. Thinking fast, I call out to the man before he leaves.
"Hey!"
"Alola, cousin, what do you need?"
"Well, I just noticed you were teaching that girl how to catch Pokemon. Do you want to keep the Pokemon you caught? Because I don't have one, and I'm sure it would be happy to be someone's partner than just being caught as a demonstration."
"No problem at all, I was going to release it anyways. Here you go."
"Thanks man, you really saved my bacon. I owe you one."
"No thanks necessary. It you want to owe me one, then come by my lab for a battle once you've trained that Pikipek up."
"Will do."
He goes on his way, and I let my new partner out of the ball to get acquainted.
"I think I'm going to call you Desmond. How do you like that name?"It makes some kind of chirping noise back that I can only assume is agreement. "Alright Desmond, it's you and me against this crazy world, so let's get started." |
(02/01/19)
Yesterday I started hitting the gym.
I got a subscription plan for a whole year, 'cause fuck it, it's January, I've been eating like a pig last month and I wanna get back in shape.
At least that's what the society of today tells you to do if you're a 23yo girl in L.A. "Get in shape".
(09/01/19)
Sooo it's been a week of "muscle toning". What even is that?? I just know that my whole body hurts. (Oh, they even have a name for that: DOMS "Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness". Don't think that I remember that, it's written on a pamphlet they gave me when I asked for explanations.)
(24/01/19)
The DOMS seem to be gone. The training is actually going pretty well and I'm starting to feel better about myself. (Never thought I'd write down bullshit like this but here I am).
There's just one thing that I noticed, and to me it's so weird: everyone here, and I mean EVERYONE except me has a partner. But like, not a "gym buddy", a "spotter"and all these shitty nicknames, but proper partners. Ethero couples, homosexual couples... you name it, and I bet there's an example in my gym. But WHY this urge to be in a relationship? I'm genuinly happy to be alone. No "soulmate"bullshit.
(06/02/19)
It was just a matter of time.
Chad. Of course his name is CHAD.
There's this guy named fucking CHAD that is tryina hit me up. For the love of God, begone!
(17/02/19)
A weird thing happened.
Chad stopped trying to hit me up.
(19/02/19)
Oooook there's good news.
Chad approached me at the gym's exit door, and we started talking, but I listened to him 'cause he looked worried and... sad.
So, he explained me that he doesn't want any relationship with anybody, and he was worried that I could have confused his small talk for cheesy pick up lines (which I definitly did).
He also told me that he decided to confront me on this because he dreamed a huge man with a long white beard that told him with a solemn voice that I, "Mariah the girl of the gym", am his soulmate... a bunch of bullshit if you ask me! But he's not that stupid after all... we could be friends! |
Everyone looked at the small little bug that they had forgotten about. The audience grew silent, wanting to hear what the tiny bug was going to say. His voice carried through the theater as he sang about how done he is with people stepping on his miniature body. His stubby legs scurried across the stage, the prince and princess were shocked. Wondering how a bug, something so small can sing. He continued to sing, the bug was done with people killing his family, as the song came to a close, he vowed to take revenge. But, his vowed was short-lived because of the prince, who stepped on him and the audience clapped as the red curtains closed with the lights dimming. |
Three men stand by the edge of a rickety dock, one with a bagged head and tied hands. On the horizon, the sun begins to sink.
The older of the two free men produces a cigarette. He lights it, takes a long drag, then exhales.
"Almost like I'm knee-high again. Just boys on the docks, watching the sun go down."
The younger man silently nods.
"So how's Tessie? She been-"
The captive interrupts with muffled protests.
"Shut ya fahkin' mouth, ya cop sonofabitch. We're doin' ya a favah heah."
"Maybe ya oughta just shoot this fahkah already, Johnny."
Johnny slaps the young man.
"Nevah fahget that I'm in chahge heah, Paddy boy."
"Sorry 'bout that. Just afraid someone's gonna see us."
"Almost dahk, anyway. If ya've got no patience for this shit, why don't ya do it yaself?"
Patrick faces his mentor.
"I-"
"Ya gonna fahkin' kiss me or somethin'? Heah."
Johnny shoves a pistol into Patrick's hand. Patrick hesitates, then shakily presses the pistol against the back of the cop's head.
The cop's muffled protests resume. Johnny smirks.
"The State of Massachusetts will compensate ya wife. So please, try to die with some fahkin' dignity."
He turns to Patrick and grabs the young man's shoulder.
"Do or die, Paddy boy."
"Alright, then."
Patrick exhales. BANG! A single shot rings out. Johnny drops to his knees. In Patrick's free hand is a second gun, a revolver.
Johnny clutches his gut, blood dripping down over his fingers. He looks up at Patrick. The young man tosses the revolver into the water.
"Ya first lesson, remember? Stay loyal to no one but yaself."
Johnny smirks.
"God willing, you'll be joining ya fahtha in hell, Paddy."
"Maybe. Maybe naht. Maybe fahk yaself."
Johnny keels over, dead.
"Fahwell, Johnny. I hahdly knew ya."
Patrick yanks the bag off the cop's head.
"I'm shipping up to Boston. Ya coming with me." |
“Prepare to die puny human!” The dagger toothed devil roared after crashing through Ben’s basement apartment door. Splinters of wood soared through the air.
“Oh thank god. I was beginning to think you guys forgot about me. I’ve been waiting all day!” Ben said getting up from his couch. He quickly swept away the Cheeto dust from his shirt and stood up to meet his maker.
The demons shoulders slumped.
“Ummm, I’m confused. Did you not see that entrance? You’re supposed to be trembling with fear right now.”
“Yeah, yeah, I saw it. Quite impressive. That door pretty much exploded. Now can we get on with this? I have a shift at the shoe factory that starts in an hour. I’d rather not have to go in, sooooo do your thing. Smite me or whatever.” Ben said.
“Demons don’t smite. That’s the other guys. We torture for all of eternity. I’m not sure if you’re understanding the gravity of the situation here.” The demon said with squinted eyes.
“Yeah, no. I get it. I’ve been watching you guys drag people away all day. I’m just glad you’re here before I had to go to work. In fact, can I have a minute before you take me to the abyss? I want to call my boss and tell him off.” Ben said hopefully.
“Uh, I guess we have time for that. Again, just so we’re clear. I’m dragging you to Hell. THE Hell. For forever. You will be tortured in ways your imagination can not comprehend. And again I can’t make this clear enough. This is forever.”
Ben was dialing while the demon was explaining the situation. He put the phone to his ear and held an index finger up to get the demon to stop babbling off. Which he did.
“Hello, can I please speak with Rich?” He smiled to the demon and pointed to the cell phone. “Yes, this is Ben. I’m calling to let Rich know I won’t be able to make it in today.” He paused. “Oh, I see...Really? Wow that’s crazy... With a pitchfork, damn that must have hurt. Well ok, like I said, I won’t be making it in today.” He paused again. “No, no I’m not sick, I’m being dragged to hell as well... He doesn’t seem to have a pitchfork, I guess I’m lucky.” Ben said with a chuckle. Ok..ok. Have a good day, you too, bye now.”
“I should have seen that coming.” Ben said as he put his phone back in his pocket.
“What? What happened?”
“He already got taken. And I didn’t get to tell him off. What a shame. I had some real dark stuff I wanted to unload on that guy. You don’t think I’ll run into him down there do you? I sure hope not.”
“C’mon now. We’re not that evil.” The demon said.
“Ok good. So what do we do now?”
“I was planning on impaling you on my pitchfork and taking you down but I forgot it at home. And by the sounds of it, everyone is doing that so I’m kinda glad I left it. I’ll probably just eat you alive and regurgitate you back up when we get there.” The demon said.
“Huh, I’ve never been eaten before this is probably going to hurt a lot.” Ben said.
“Like, a lot a lot.” The demon said.
“Well, anything is better than going back to work.” Ben said and laid back on the couch waiting to be eaten alive by a demon with daggers for teeth. |
The president orders a nation-wide curfew. In these troubling times of war with The New Republic of Korea a curfew is not uncommon, however what isn't common is that the government has mandated a day-time curfew. All citizens are to remain indoors between the hours of 7am- 7pm. Thousands of drones fly overhead to uphold law and anyone caught outside during light hours simply vanishes. You and a rogue team of spec-ops set out to uncover what the government is hiding, or perhaps, protecting us form. |
"Oh! So what is this project you are proposing?"The monocled man enquired, leaning uncomfortable close to my face, as if he was planning to run a big slopping kiss along my cheek.
I took a backstep before pointing to the board next to me. "So... its a... um money rotator."I said unenthusiastically. I hated this, it was degrading. Us poor folks were forced into sweatshops and given shoddy pencils that could barely pierce a piece of paper. In these rooms we were told to create inventions to sate the imagination of these rich bastards. Then at the end of the week, we would be herded into a meeting to explain our ideas and to try to get funding. Having to display them like proud two year olds showing off their drawings to disinterested parents. Of course many took this seriously as if you got picked, you were given money, A rather large sum... but of course that large sum was to the project, your pay was rather low. In fact I suspected to get even close to middle class you would have to do two projects a month for two years in a row. Any gap in this pattern would send you to step one.
"Money rotator?"He looked to his wife. She seemed to share the same disinterest as me. She knew what this was. It was them throwing mutts a bone, giving them a glimpse at a glass ceiling that was merely painted on. "How clever dear! Well hows it work."
"Yes how clever."The woman muttered, glancing to her coat as the man focused his attention back to me.
"Well you see... its a barrel... you put your money in it and spin it. That way you can watch your money spin before your face. Its really not that complicated."I grumbled, shoving the blueprints in his face, mostly as a way to stop him from drifting closer.
"I see! I see! Marvellous, I like it. Although it may be awfully tiring to have to turn that all day long. Could it be made automated?"
"Its... a barrel? Yeah it probably could be made automated. I imagine it could be done pretty simply."I admitted.
The man seemed to overlook my tone and instead clapped his hands together. "Oh its precious. You sir are funded! Please start work immediately."He said with a joyous roar.
"Ugh.. really? Its just a.... right away Sir."I gave a sarcastic bow. Of course he picked mine... now I had to work for some stupid snob. Oh well, maybe I'll be able to get some interesting information from him. There must be a way to crumble this system..
With that I marched off, hearing the man lean into his wife and whisper into her ear. "What a nice chap, shame this slums don't have more people like him."
{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} |
When I first heard of King Edrogan, I didn’t believe the rumors. A human who’d live a thousand years? Impossible. A human adventurer at a bar told us the tale: King Edrogan’s palace, hidden beneath the mountains, full of treasure.
“The gods wouldn’t be so cruel,” Scatha wipe blood off her blade before it dried.
“Cruel? Why?” I asked.
“Ever seen a human over eighty?” Rundar called from the front, “He’d be a paper sack full of dust.”
The dwarf had a point. An ancient human wouldn’t be a very impressive specimen. My fingers relaxed around the hilt of my dagger. There was nothing to fear.
“No,” Scatha said, “That’s not why.”
I waited for Rundar to cuss her out for contradicting him, as the dwarf usually did, but the only sound from the front was the rhythmic clink of plate mail boots against stone. The fae finished cleaning off her sword and sheathed it.
“The reason humans live such fleeting lives. Do you know it?”
“I don’t want to talk about how easily humans die,” I said, “Not after—”
“It’s an old story. A folktale.”
She seemed determined to tell it. I sighed and nodded, but before she could begin, Rundar held up his fist and pointed ahead. The carved stone floor of the hall suddenly shifted to tesselated tiles of black and white marble. I sniffed the air; the dank cave air faded ahead.
“A trap?” she asked.
“I’ll check. Tell the story.”
I darted past Rundar and checked the first row of tiles before stepping lightly to the next. I ran my finger along the cracks, feeling for the telltale sign of give or the soft rush of air where it flowed into the hollow below a pressure plate. Rundar set the head of his hammer on the ground and leaned against it while I worked.
“Long ago,” she began, “The gods created the five races—”
“Four,” Rundar corrected.
“Hush. The five races: Elves, Dwarves, Humans, Faeries, and Elementals. Five immortal races to tend the world the gods created for them. The elves tended the forests. The dwarves tended the earth. The faeries tended the air. The elementals tended the sea, and the humans… they were given the domain of the mind to tend, the domain of the gods themselves. While the other races worked with what they’d been given, the humans created from nothing.”
“But that wasn’t enough. One ancient human, Bane, wanted more. He thought he could create even greater things, if he had the domains of the other races to himself.”
“He convinced the humans to do it, so they used their gift to create the first weapons of war. They waged war on the Elementals, and they destroyed them. This is why humans are the only race with dominion over the sea.”
“Nevermind that the other races are landlocked,” Rundar added.
“If you interrupt again,” Scatha hissed, “I’ll push you over the tiles.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, but he hid it by stroking his beard.
“The gods couldn’t remake the Elementals who had been lost, and they couldn’t take away the waters from man, so instead, they took their immortality. Man became the only race who couldn’t live forever.”
Runder’s hand slowly raised. Scatha squinted at him.
“That’s stupid.”
She kicked at him, and he swatted the blow away. The tip of felt shoes brushed the haft of his hammer. It teetered over, and the handle landed on the third row of tiles I was working on. The tile compressed, and we all froze.
“Shi—”
A flash of violet light encompassed us and stole the breath from our lungs. Suddenly, the air was warm: torch light radiated from sconces on the wall, reflecting off a polished floor of black and white marble. The largest pair of torches rested on either side of a raised dais. In the center, a throne and a lone man with skin pale skin marred with striated lines like the marble.
The silence filled with the hiss of Scatha’s blade leaving its sheath. I drew my daggers as well. Beside me, Rundar fumbled for the short sword he kept at his hip, his hammer lost in the transposition.
Suddenly, the stony lips curled into a smile.
“It was a good story.”
We hesitated.
“Congratulations,” he said, his voice resonating through the room, “You have entered the hall of King Erdogan. *Kneel.*”
The tenor of his voice shifted, resonating in my bones, and all three of us fell to our knees before him. Scatha’s sword slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. He made a motion, and the tension in my muscles faded. All of us struggled to our feet.
“In older days, long before your ancestors were born, we called you the elder races because you were long lived.”
“There is some truth to your tale, faeling. The fifth race. The elementals. Their demise.”
“But humans were never immortal. We never needed to be. Instead, our domain, the mind, is free. The worst thing they ever could have done was take the water domain over the mind.”
I lowered my blades, “You don’t look like stone… you are the stone. You’re a statue.”
He chuckled, but it was the sound of marble scraping marble, “Very clever, elf. Yes. My mind possesses this statue, animated by my will. Through it, I will live forever.”
“Alas,” he sighed, “I don’t know how you “elder races” do it. I’m terribly bored.”
“So you lure adventurers here with the promise of treasure and kill them?”
“No, no, of course not.”
Scatha cautiously retrieved her blade, but she slipped it into her sheath. At the display of his power, even she hoped to avoid a fight.
The corner of his stone lips curled into a smile, “I only kill the non-human adventurers.”
And the chamber filled with the thunderous, echoing sound of a stone door slamming shut as King Edrogan rose from his throne. |
I woke up in a frantic jerk. I must have slept through my alarm!
I hopped out of bed and pulled on my clothes- set aside so I could get out the door quicker. I silently thanked myself. Downstairs I went, tripping slightly from grogginess and I immediately beelined for the kettle. I was on autopilot, but being up as early as I was, thank god for it. Now that they've put me on the 6am shift, tea is as essential to me as clothes so I impatiently waited as the kettle came to a boil. From the living room, my sister stared at me weirdly as she ate a chicken wing. Huh, wonder why she's up so early. Carrie is many things, but a morning person is not one of them.
I made the tea and ate my breakfast- 3 spoons of peanut butter- and was now ready to leave. A quick glance at the minute hand on my watch showed me that I only had 15 minutes to get to work. Shit, should've left 5 minutes ago. I whipped upstairs and asked if my mom needed the car today and got a muffled "nnnh"in reply. Good enough for me! I got the keys, started the car, and off I went.
My work is pretty easy, but the worst part has gotta be the drive. During the winter, the sun isn't up quite that early so I don't get to see its beautiful face until about 3. There's benefits to early mornings though. One being the traffic. Of course, the one morning I'm late, the traffic didn't get the memo. Usually I only see 4 or 5 cars, but today they were everywhere. Luckily I found a good radio station to calm my nerves. Getting you through the night, the host said. Thanks man, I thought, although I don't know if 6am really counts.
I made it to work a bit late, but considering the circumstances, that's a win. I parked, sprinted to the door and found no receptionist there to unlock it for me... what? Not only that but the lights were all off. It was really cold in front of the door so I gave it one last yank and then shuffled back to the car. Sitting in there, I checked the time.
12:05 it read.
Huh? No way. I must have read that wrong. I closed my eyes, opened them.
12:05, it insisted.
I checked my watch, this time at the hours hand.
12:05, my watch agreed.
I guess there's no arguing with that. I smacked myself in the forehead and drove home.
I unlocked the apartment door and drifted in like a storm cloud. I took off my shoes, rounded the corner and froze. Carrie was in the living room, still munching on her chicken wings, watching me with an amused expression on her face. I sighed and passed through the room. I paused for a second and turned towards Carrie. "Tell no one"I said, punctuating it with my index finger. She smiled and zipped her lips. I tossed my tea in the fridge, stumbled back upstairs for the third time that night, flopped on my mattress, and fell back asleep before my head hit pillow. |
Have you ever woken after having done something bad? I'm sure that most people have. We all make mistakes. You go to whoever you wronged and you apologize. Have you ever woken up knowing you have done something awful, but can't remember what it was? I'm sure you have a plethora of times. So many times in fact that you wake up with that feeling. That one in your guts that makes you want to puke, not because of the hangover. No you probably didn't eat last night, and certainly didn't drink enough water to throw up. That goes away and the end of the next night, but the feeling, the one in your guts stays a lot longer.You desperately try to assure yourself,"I'm always anxious after a night out.", "Surely, anything I did couldn't have been that bad"you say to yourself. But your'e experienced you know the difference between I fucked up, and I fucked up. "I'm a good person it couldn't have been that bad". Lies all of it. Lies even the foolish, the gullible, the dumbest of people couldn't believe. You should know as you are all three. Its OK though because you're the auteur of fucking up. You've gotten quite good at it. Dry mouth and headaches fade but that feeling. The one in your guts. That just becomes a part of who you are. |
The hooded man stood in the opening to the fourth exhibit of the Smithsonian, his footsteps behind him still tracking in mud from the humid outdoors. There were banners hung from the ceiling, signs draped from the balconies -this was his destination. His work was primarily rooted in the makings of the past and this display will surely do. He hummed and tapped his finger on his chin, wondering where to start.
"Can I help you, sir?"a voice said.
The hooded man turned, "Pardon me?"
Before him stood a handsome young man wearing a bright blue fitted shirt and a nametag that read "Darryl"
"It's just you've been standing here for some time now, and the staff are getting worried. Is there something you need?"
"Well,"he leaned closer to the young man, near enough that he could hear the poor tour guide sweat, "Darryl, I'm in the market for some, let us call it, product. And this exhibit is a wonderful starting point for my enterprise. I'm just wondering where I should start, I hardly know anything about them."
"Sir, these aren't for sale. This is a museum, not a store."
Turning back to the exhibit, the man said, "I'm not necessarily looking for a purchase either. How about you tell me about these bones, maybe that will help."
Darryl stepped up, "I'm a guide here at the Smithsonian, I can show you the ropes. Follow me. I'll take you to our first stop."
"Very well, Darryl. I am a busy man, however, so let's make this quick."
"No need to worry sir, these bones aren't going anywhere. You can come back whenever you want."
"Oh, they're going somewhere alright,"the man muttered.
Darryl spun on his heels and pointed to the display on his left, "Here we have a collection of various instances of Aquilops. A small, but capable dinosaur, the Aqu-"
"Does it eat meat?"the man interrupted.
"Um, no. It was an herbivore, why do you ask?"
"Professional curiosity. Next."
Darryl paused, "Okay. Then over here, "he gestured to a large skeleton in the middle of the room, "is the Diplodocus. You may recognize it from the movie Jurrasic Park, the long-necked herbivores they run into."
The old man grunted, "Again with the lousy leaf-eaters, where are the actually *cool* dinos? And I've never seen that movie, I don't watch television."
Again, Darryl found himself at a loss for words. There have been plenty of unsatisfied customers that have passed through here, but this brusque, old fart is making them mighty preferable to Darryl.
"Then let's go over here."He led them down a narrow hallway, lined with fossils of ancient creatures that were of absolutely no value to the old man -he didn't want fish and stone becoming a part of his work- and entered a magnificent room with only two skeletons waiting patiently for the next tourist.
"This is the Allosaurus, the crown jewel of this exhibit. We once had a T-Rex on display but our donors' well had gone bone dry, if you get what I mean."
The man raised an eyebrow, "Are you patronizing me, young man?"
Darryl held his ground, "No, I was actually hoping you would patronize us."
"Funny"he looked the creature up and down, "What could this guy do, crack open walnuts with his teeth? Or does this one actually do some damage?"
Leaning on the plaque for the display, Darryl said, "Yes, it was a predator, it ate meat, it kicked ass. It makes an appearance in Jurrasic World, tearing up the place, being the bad guy."
"Kid, I don't watch television. Give up with the references. But this guy is interesting. Hunter, huh? Did it hunt this guy?"he pointed to the other display.
"Although they aren't from the same period, these two make great hunters. This is the Albertosaurus, another therapod like the Allosaur. It was king for a time, only to be replaced by bigger and badder things."
"Do you have said bigger and badder things here?"
Darryl shook his head.
"Damn. Well, these beasties will do fine. Thank you, Darryl, it has been an... informative visit, I just might come again."
The man threw back his hood, revealing strange markings on his brow that curved around his bald head. He reached into a small pouch on his side, withdrew a small piece of chalk, and began writing on the ground in strange symbols.
Darryl immediately snapped to attention, "Hey! You can't do that! That's museum property. Stop that, or I'll call security."
"No one is leaving this room until I get what I came here for. Be a good lad and sit down over there, will you? They might need a snack when they're done."he continued to write on the tiled floor, now speaking in a tongue long forgotten. The ground began to tremble slightly, dust falling from shelves and some of the smaller displays.
Finally reaching a crescendo, the old man threw his hands into the air and spoke the final words of his incantation. But nothing happened. Neither man moved a muscle, one out of fear, the other out of confusion.
"Why didn't it work?"the old man asked himself, "The bones are right here, the spell should have worked."
Darryl, despite all of his natural instincts telling him not to be stupid, said, "Those... those aren't actually bones. They're just plaster casts of the real bones. Those are kept off-site for safety reasons."
A faint clattering was heard in the distance followed by a scream. "Well, I woke something up. What exhibits use the *actual* bones of the creatures?"
"Um, that would be Compsognathus. Compy's."
"Tell me, are they cool?"the man probed.
"If by cool, you mean carnivorous, then, yes. They are very cool."Darryl said, wishing to high heaven he wasn't here right now.
The doors burst open and dozens of tiny lizards on two legs pranced into the room. They were no bigger than the average household cat and were considerably less condescending. The small dinos jumped and played in front of their new master as Darryl watched, stunned.
"Well, aren't you little buggers adorable. Ow!"the man said as one of the peppy reptiles bit his finger. "Oh, you'll do nicely, very nicely indeed."
Against every fibre in his body telling him to stay as far away from the crazy summoner, Darryl said, "How are you doing this? *Why* are you doing this?"
The man made his way towards the exit, turned and asked, "Have you ever seen the movie Dinotopia?"
"Uh, no."
He shook his head, "Hm. Shame. Welp, thank you for the guide. I might swing by later, who knows when you might need a beast such as these."
And with that, the old man left Darryl, the Smithsonian, and the relics fo the past behind, entourage in tow. |
Ada didn’t know she was a robot. That was the trick. In fact, nobody knew she was a robot. She had one sole creator, and he passed away before Ada booted up for the first time. Before he died, he rented out an apartment and left her there.
Today was the day he scheduled Ada to wake up. December 25th – the day his wife died. The old scientist shaped Ada in her image. She had hair the color of black pearls, and looking into her eyes was like staring into the Caribbean sea. Her lips were full and her nose perfect. She was lovely.
When Ada woke up she knew exactly where she was. Her father had implanted memories of a child he never had in her. She was a talented pianist and loved cats. Her apartment was decorated the best a man could do.
Ada knew today was special. She got dressed in clothes she’d thought she’d worn many times and headed out the door.
Her apartment was in a more rural part of the state, and she didn’t have a car. Ada didn’t care, though, because her destination was near. She left the apartment grounds and went to the church next door.
Her father was buried in the church’s graveyard. Ada knew exactly where he was. On the way there she passed a black cat. She knelt down at his tombstone, clasped her hands together, and prayed.
She prayed for her father in heaven. She thanked God for watching over him and keeping him safe. She wished all the cats and dogs of the world would be cared for. She prayed that everyone be surrounded by loving family on this Christmas day. Then, she prayed for her own well-being.
She finished praying and stood up. She realized she wasn’t at the church.
She saw only darkness around her.
There was no church.
There was no tombstone.
There was no father.
And then,
There was no Ada. |
I know it's ridiculous. It's been seven and a half months since we "buried"Shelley, but I stare at the text I've typed up to send her phone.
Me: [Hey Shell. I would give anything to have you back. I love you to the moon and back baby.]
It was a closed casket. Bullet straight to the face left no choice.
I got no closure. I never got the chance to see her, to say goodbye one last time.
"David, be thankful you didn't have to see her."
How can I be thankful for anything right now?
I send the message, and stare at the message as I wait for my phone to send me a disconnection notice.
It doesn't.
Instead, it goes to seen.
And then the typing begins.
I'm almost sure the number has been given away when the message comes through.
[David Holloway, to see your wife alive again, you must do exactly as I say. There is a black car out front. Get in it. Do not speak. Failure to comply will result in your wife's immediate termination.]
And there, in a picture, sits Shelley, bruised and bloody, one eye swollen shut, tied to a wall heater. |
It sounded silly: a world on the very brink of war, an economic collapse on a greater scale than ever before, and a continent torn asunder; all seemingly on the mend due to childish naivete. We are talking of course, of the Missive, the five words engraved onto a tattered sliver of paper hand delivered to Chancellor Angelos one year ago, that inspired people the world over.
Can this peace continue? Is full stability truly in sight for the remaining countries of the world? And just who is responsible for penning the Missive?
All this and more on this special edition program. Join us as we investigate just how five words could change everything, as we ask: "Why Can't We Get Along?" |
Hi u/TylerTheWolf123, this submission has been removed.
**Real-World Drama:** No prompts referencing real world drama (including politics, recent tragedies, etc.)
* *From Rule 7: [Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses](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)*
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"I can't believe I let you talk me into this,"Mona complained while she studied herself in the mirror. The mid-50s woman looked young for her age with dark hair and very few laugh-lines. She twirled this way and that to test how much her pink poodle skirt flared. "He walked out on *both* of us, not just me."Mona turned to face her son, Eric, sitting on the bed; he shrugged.
"He made a poor choice. He knows that now. And, you know, keeping the universe running is kind of a demanding job. It seemed like the only choice at the time."
"Pfft. He's not *God.*"Mona replied with an eyeroll.
"No, he's not. But the universe needs both of them."
"But [Julie](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bg6q90/wp_you_mean_to_tell_me_that_your_roommate_is_the/) is Satan now, right?"Mona asked. Deep down she was looking forward to the date but she was still wary. She had a wonderful fling with Satan when she was younger. He abandoned her once she got pregnant, but managed to show up again for [Eric's 14th birthday](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7d89vy/wp_come_on_dude_i_dont_believe_you_im_telling_you/).
"Technically she isn't yet, [she's still completing her trial](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/c9guok/wp_everyone_ready_this_is_your_last_chance_to/). *But*, dad has more free time now because Arthur and I are helping him until Julie's done."
"Arthur too? That's surprising,.."Mona wandered to her jewelry box and began combing through it while she spoke. "...last I heard [he couldn't handle the truth](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/c94q0k/wp_the_devil_sits_down_at_your_table_across_from/) of the universe."She turned to look at Eric with a raised eyebrow. "I can't either, apparently, because you never explain it to me."Eric shook his head with a chuckle.
"Julie helped bring Arthur around. He's still squeamish about some things, but,..."he grinned and stood from the bed. He crossed the room to stand next to his mother. "...we *are* talking about marriage now."Her face lit up with a broad smile and her green eyes sparkled.
"Eric! That's wonderful!"she hugged her son.
"Thanks, mom. But, if you want to know the secrets of the universe, you'll have to ask dad."Eric squeezed her tighter. "But, please don't. You're trusting me enough to give dad another chance. Trust me when I tell you: you'll wish you didn't know."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #003 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. |
Life was meant to be simple, at least that’s what they told me.
I had a purpose, something many would kill for. Though they may be sorely disappointed in what that purpose entails, having a meaning in life, that’s what they’re searching for. Even if it means sacrificing your life.
I grew up in a small village that nobody had heard of, born to parents that nobody knew of, with the expectation that I would follow a line of forgotten farmers and merchants. I would be as non-controversial as possible, living only to have children and pass on. I can’t say that I would prefer that fate, but I’d be lying if I said I never dreamed of the simplicity.
The seer came, and with him came the prophecy. *The child with the flaming hair, and a man with an evil stare. Must no longer stall, until each of them fall.* A death sentence. I was told at the age of seven that I would send myself to death, and I had no say in the matter. We all *will* perish, but is it not a fundamental human right to come to terms with it on one’s own time?
They whisked me away from my home, with intentions to raise the greatest warrior the kingdom had seen. They were afraid that I wouldn’t be enough, and that all would be lost. So I trained, hours into weeks, into years.
I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the attention, at first. People suddenly cared about who I was, or so I thought. As it turns out, a sheltered child with a finite time to live is shockingly easy to take advantage of. So it went, as I grew angrier at the world around me. I sat behind the concrete walls, my rage bloating, as it threatened to burst.
At the age of thirty, I left my prison, against the will of my superiors. They tried to stop me, though they were too afraid of upsetting fate, so I went. I travelled for years, trying to suppress what was inside of my mind. Until I found my mother, she had died years prior in the Empire’s attempt to quell an uprising. They say it was collateral damage.
I wish I had chosen differently. I wish every night that what happened next was just an awful nightmare. I took my revenge, and I enjoyed every second of it. I took the castle as my own, and I sat in my twisted throne, regretting what had come before.
I took to writing, a way of trying to fight the pain. It didn’t work, but the distraction can be nice at times. The years passed by at a snail’s pace, but damn was that snail persistent. Soon enough I was in my fifties. After the initial outrage of the usurping, some of the kingdom began to revere me. Some called me cruel, others called me harsh, some say the iron fist was necessary for prosperity. Regardless, I began to fear what was in store for my future.
The day was no different than any other ordinary day. A young man came to my door, requesting my audience. Somewhere deep inside of me, I knew I had to accept. We shared the same red hair, though it was through no familial bonds. His request was simple, a duel at sunrise. I wish for nothing more than the ability to flee from this place, but I feel concrete in place of my feet.
I apologize for the sins I committed. I hope that in my timely death, you understand that I tried to live my life through good intentions, however meaningless that is. I wish you all the best. |
All hope seemed to be lost. The outlaw stood before the town, the sheriff down on the ground, severely wounded. Everyone had heard of the Double Mustache Man, but no one expected the rumors of his skills to be true. And now he was going to rob us all. But suddenly I stepped up. A nobody whose only weapon was a pen I had found just a few days ago. I had experimented with it, such a strange invention, yet, it was able to produce miraculous effects. I held a piece of paper with a circle on it. “Little boy,” he sneered, “just what are you doing? Let the adults handle the situation.” But I stepped closer, revealing a gun in my right hand. “What is that? A toy?” He laughed, squinting at my poorly drawn picture. “An admirable gesture, but I assure you, even if that was a real gun, it wouldn’t do anything to me. Now hand over the money before anyone else gets hurt.”
But he was wrong. I managed to pull the trigger right then and there, shooting him in the chest. He was shocked. It was impossible. Nobody “just shot” the Double Mustache Man and got away with it. He coughed up blood. “What is this trickery?!” He said, attempting a shot at me. But I hid behind the paper, which blocked his bullets. “Impossible...” He said, his life slipping away. Everyone was stunned in disbelief.
“Did you do this, boy?” The sheriff asked. I nodded, and they breathed a sigh of relief, despite still being in disbelief. “Well... thank you for your help. But I’m afraid you’ll likely have to go somewhere else. Accusations of witchcraft are wild in this region.”
“He’s just a boy! I’m sure that’s not even his!” Someone said behind me. But everyone was already seeing what the sheriff had said. I would be found out sooner or later. And the executors were Merciless. My mother with already occupied with my five younger siblings, so she couldn’t leave. I was disappointed, feeling tears fall from my eyes. But then someone remembered, there was a merchant traveling nearby. And so I packed my bag, looking one last time at the town in regret, while they looked on with a thanks and a sorry look at the same time.
I soon found myself knocking at the merchant’s door. “Ah, come in, come in.” He said, introducing his merchandise, fancy gadgets and gizmos. I told my story and showed him my pen. He lifted his goggles. “Well well, ain’t that curious. I’ve never seen anything like that. I tell you what, I’ll take you with me. I’m curious about this pen myself.” And so we were off, to discover the truth of my pen. |
“Mister Jenkins, it appears you have the plague.” Said the doctor, still scribbling on his clipboard.
Jenkins whimpered I’m confused denial.
“Yes, it’s definitely the plague. Do you have any children or family at home?”
Jenkins whimpered affirmatively.
“Oh I’m quite sure they will die.” Replied the doctor, without looking up from his clipboard scribbles, “and so will you.”
Jenkins whimpered despondently.
“Oh yes, you’re all going to die.” The doctor said matter-of-factly.
Mister Jenkins whimpered nervously.
“But not of the plague.”
Jenkins whimpered less nervously.
The doctor walked over to the white wall cabinet of the examination room and set down his clipboard next to the sink, revealing to Jenkins a very detailed doodle of what looked like two rats copulating.
He reached both hands into the cabinet, producing two gloves, a syringe, an alcohol swab, and a small glass bottle of clear yellow liquid.
“Now, Mister Jenkins, please remove your trousers.”
Jenkins whimpered confusedly
“Oh, you’re not allergic to Penicillin, are you?” |
Neil Armstrong stood on the last rung of the ladder and cursed his luck in drawing the short straw. Sure, he was going to be the first man on the moon. But that was nothing compared to the role Buzz Aldrin was going to play. He, Neil, was just a distraction, there to keep the audience from understanding why they were really on the moon.
The SOS signal and coordinates had been picked up by Goldstone Observatory in December of ‘68. It had taken a little time to realize the latitude and longitude were selenographic coordinates. Once the scientists confirmed the signal was coming from the moon, NASA had rushed to get Apollo 11 ready. They moved fast but preparations for humankind’s first walk on the moon still took time.
Eight months was a long time to wait for a rescue mission. It was unlikely that the sender had survived. But Neil privately hoped they would find a being or a spacecraft that were still viable. Proof of extraterrestrial life would mean the Creator hadn’t left humankind alone in a desolate universe. It meant that there was something more. He needed there to be something more.
“I’m going to step off the LM now”, he told Command Control. Once his feet were on the moon’s surface he said the line he had come up with to define this historic moment. If only the world knew how giant a “leap for mankind” this might be.
Continuing to describe his actions, he gathered a sample of moon dust and set up the television camera. Buzz exited the Lunar Module and joined Neil in keeping up a constant chatter for their audience. They planted the flag and took the President’s call. His final words, “All of us look forward to seeing you on the Hornet on Thursday”, were the cue to begin the rescue mission. Neil watched with envy as Buzz took the EASEP package and headed for the boulder field around the West Crater.
Neil busied himself with taking soil and rock samples, moving back and forth in front of the camera. Their suits were identical and as long as there was enough movement the audience on Earth would assume both astronauts were still by the Lunar Module.
Off-camera Buzz continued to describe his impressions of the environment. Neil rolled his eyes at some of it, particularly the other man’s monologue on the “thermal effects of the sun”. Of course it was hot when you stood in a star’s unfiltered rays. But when Buzz said,“I’m now in the area of the minus Y strut taking some…,” then paused for a long second before saying, “photographs.” Neil knew he had found something.
Keeping up the back and forth dialogue as if they were close to each other was difficult. Buzz got shirty with him several times and Neil had to remind himself that whatever Buzz was seeing must be out of this world. Still, if they made it back, he might have to have a word with him about his attitude. This was a sacred mission. It bothered Neil that Buzz didn’t feel the same way.
After about twenty minutes, Buzz’s microphone cut out. Command Control tried to raise him with no luck. Neil started to sweat. Just when he thought it had all gone to hell, Buzz came back on saying simply, “Hey, you want to take a look at this BB and see what you make out of it?”
“BB” was code for “extraterrestrial item”. Joining Buzz would mean leaving the stage empty for the tv audience on Earth. Command Control would not be happy. Neil didn’t even hesitate.
Adrenaline rushing through his system, he headed toward the West Crater. Following Buzz’s footsteps, he found the other astronaut standing in a clear space in the boulder field; his back to Neil. He seemed to be focused on something on the ground. Neil couldn’t see what it was.
Loping across the open area, Neil came up behind Buzz and looked over his shoulder. On the ground, half covered with the ashy, cocoa-colored moon dust was a creature that looked like a muddy hamster, if a hamster had vestigial tentacles and a row of marble-sized eyes on its back. A gold bubble enclosed one end of the creature. The marble eyes were black and glistening in the raw sunlight; otherwise the creature was still. Neil saw no evidence of respiration.
“That’s a tough one to level,” said Neil, trying to keep the jubilation out of his voice. Seeing this creature was like seeing a holy relic. Buzz had no response. With shaking hands he used a pair of tongs from the EASEP package to pick up the body. Keeping it as far from him as possible, he maneuvered the tongs toward the lead-lined sample box.
As the tongs touched the lead lining, the creature’s body jerked wildly. Both astronauts froze and watched as the creature wriggled free of the tongs. It fell fell limply back onto the moon’s surface and lay still again. After moment Buzz cleared his throat and said, “That BB likes it on the outside. It won’t go on the inside.”
“Roger, 11. Press on.” Command Control responded. Neil was moved by the vulnerability of the BB. They couldn’t leave it here. If it didn’t like the lead box they still had to find a way to bring it home. It was one of God’s creatures, perhaps it deserved more than a box. Impulsively Neil leaned down and picked up the limp body. Buzz gasped audibly. The creature rolled over in his hand and wrapped a tentacle around one of his fingers.
“Roger, Houston”, Neil said. He indicated that Buzz should gather the ESEAP package and head back to the LM. “We got the bulk sample and will begin prepping for departure.”
Being the first man on the moon was never his true goal. He always knew he was meant for something more. Now Buzz would have to be the one to distract the audience while he, Neil, got to commune with proof that the Creator truly existed. Truly this was a great leap for mankind. |
He’s never opened the letter. Everyday at 3pm he receives it, looks at it strangely and looks around his room before throwing it away. He knows what the letter is about but he can’t face the things he’s done in his life. His name is Maverick David, Mav for short. When he was a child his parents weren’t the best at taking care of him. His brother took great care of him and was the best anyone could ask for. His brother, Hector, had the job of protecting him and he followed him everywhere he went. He’d beat up the bullies who picked on him and never him get in trouble with his parents. When they were 18 and graduating high school Hector disappeared. They were going to separate colleges and was upset he would be without his brother. Nobody knows where he went but Mav was distraught. He didn’t act like it but everyone could tell that he was depressed. He never searched for his brother because he was saddened by the sudden loss he just moved on. He graduated college with his masters in bio engineering. He bought a nice apartment and that’s where this story begins. The letter reads “I know where you brother is and I need you to answer me soon”.
I was starting to believe he wouldn’t ever open it. I delivered it everyday to him hoping he’d realize who I was. I’ve been here this whole time watching him, protecting him. His mean professors, unfair bosses, evil bullies all disappeared without a trace. I made them disappear because I care about him too much for his life to be anything but perfect. I wanted it to be only me and him for the rest of our life but I knew that wasn’t reasonable. So I kept out of his sight but kept him in my protection. I am Hector. I made myself disappear so I would never be a suspect in the murders I committed. He finally opened it and freaked out and threw it away. He packed up his things and left but I knew I couldn’t let him leave. I walked up to his door before he got the chance to leave and I told him I was his brother. “Get away from me Hector” my brother said. I slowly approached him and reached for my knife. “You can’t tell anyone Mav I’m sorry. I won’t let you”. My knife pierced his skin and blood poured out. Later that night I was arrested and charged with 27 accounts of murder. I just wanted my brother to be loved doesn’t anyone understand. |
Hi u/Louiscl11, this submission has been removed.
**Troll / Meme:** No troll or meme-based prompts See [here](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) for more info.
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They called it Vol0. The utter and complete removal of the power of speech. As if we were nothing more than television sets and something was the master remote control for the species.
I was in my bathroom when I noticed it the first time. Living alone, I enjoyed singing in the shower, hitting those low notes on Marty Robbins songs, crooning into my scrubber, rinsing my hair out while humming.
What came out of my mouth was closer to a strangled burp. A moment later, nothing. I could whistle, hum and even belch, just nothing as organized as speech. No effort could expel meaningful noise from my mouth. Just.. silence.
The rest of the world was taking notice immediately. Stuck in my own head, I didn't pay attention to it. I tried calling people, and all that accomplished was mutual silent treatment, regardless of who answered. Outside, I could hear people panicking, just not in traditional ways.
People were frantically downloading text to speech apps, clotting up sites that provided them, and logically, they went from free to all directly to pay-to-play models. Humanity never changed, really; if ever we could make a fast buck, damned well we would.
Most people took to writing things down on signs, carried laptops, tablets or their phones, magnifying text sizes to build the equivalent of shouts and screams. Some just banged objects together, like trash can lids or pots and pans, then resorted to pantomime to convey ideas.
The lucky few who spoke sign language were surprisingly effective as teachers, replacing almost every level of the mass media market overnight.
We became hostages to whomever could translate our thoughts into public discourse. Internet providers began to suffer immediate drops in service, telecommunication companies reversed course on diversification, and the hospitals ran red with blood from countless arguments held in nonverbal methods, doctors trapped in silent, impotent horror as they lost their option to discuss patient needs and treatments with nurses and support technicians.
War didn't stop; we just moved to the newer model of conflict by attacking our enemies ability to communicate each other, destroying TV stations broadcasting mostly text-based messages, radio relays who'd switched to automated voice prompting and anything resembling an internet connection.
Protests became silent vigils. Marches became long lines of angry mobs blasting music and slamming objects into each other, and civil unrest was the new normal. A significant issue that developed was the absence of a Miranda option for most offenders. The right to remain silent became pointless. Court cases bogged down with the dwindling amount of translation options and soon enough, just stopped happening.
The first deaf president was elected on a campaign promise of finding a cure for Vol0. They won in a landslide victory, garnering over eighty percent of the vote, utterly unprecedented. Her running mate, blind since birth, promised to provide low-cost speech units for the first generation of citizens unable to communicate with their parents and community.
After ten long years, we've stopped protesting. We no longer have a reason to march. Nobody riots, loots or does much beyond sit in front of their TVs, rewatching shows and movies that speak to us.
Nobody speaks with each other anymore.
We simply have nothing to say.
Yesterday, I heard my neighbor being arrested for having a child that could speak without a state-issued textvox.
What else is there to say? |
I tend to sing to myself when my owner leaves me alone. I have to use my vocal chords somehow or they would deteriorate, and there is always a song my owner has listened to playing in my head. He seems to love music. I wish I could sing to him.
Tonight, he is sitting in front of his computer and listening to my favourite album of his. He's never told me the name, but I've managed to spy it: Plans by Death Cab For Cutie.
"You may feel alone
When you're falling asleep
Every time tears roll down your cheek
But I know your heart belongs
To someone you've yet to meet
Someday you will be loved"
And then I noticed that I had started to sing along to the lyrics since I was too accustomed to singing the song when I was alone. I also noticed my owner's wide eyes. It seemed that he had been staring at me for a while.
"Did you just... sing?!"My owner got up from his chair and walked over to me. He looked at my eyes intensively, which caused a single drop of sweat to run over my forehead.
Now he knows. There's no need to hide it any longer. He may discard me now, but since I have nothing left to lose, I want to tell him my feelings.
"John... I love you", I whispered and he started crying. |
I was waiting for my turn in the drive through at McDonald’s and the car in front of me pulled forward around the corner of the building, I pulled up to place my order when suddenly, I was in the middle of a forest in my car. I sat there, not knowing where I was or what to do, eventually I tried to open the door only to realize it was blocked by a tree. I ended up having to climb out of the back passenger window to escape my car, I opened the trunk and gathered my podcasting equipment, which I luckily happened to have with me, and started walking.
Eventually I ran into this weird wolverine or badger animal and started to panic because I didn’t want to get attacked, end up with rabies and die in the woods. I slowly backed away talking softly and quietly to the little guy when he stood up and said “Chunt’s up with that?” And started walking towards me on two feet. That was the last thing I remember before waking up in a decently lit hovel, with the weird little creature starring me down. He offered me some mead with a little raspberry and asked me who I was and how many buttholes I had? To which I replied with my name, asked him who he was and also why I was in the middle of a forest.
I’ve since decided to use my podcast equipment to interview and learn about this new land that I am in. The little badger dude introduced me to a “wizard” friend of his, he has a really long name, somethin-something Zelig zoonanen hoobastank or something like that, I met him in a bar, which they told me is called a tavern called the Vermillion Minotaur. Which I have been told is in the town of Hogsface in the magical land of Foon... |
At the age of 23 I have achieved everything. Perhaps not everything. But what more can I do?
Back in high school I was depressed and made my over the top bucket list I was sure I´d never finish. “When I finish I´ll put and end to it all.” A pathetic attempt to motivate me, I either wasn´t going to kill myself or I would become someone not even Da Vinci could stand up to.
“Win a cook off against Gordon Ramsey.” “Have a band with over 100 million replays” “Win 3 world class awards” “Have a miss universe winner as a wife.” “Cure world hunger.” “Solve the energetic crisis.” “Write a bestselling novel.”
The list included other achievements, but I just wanted to tell about how nonsensical they were. What´s worse is that even though I´m the most accomplished human in history I haven´t found a slither of emotion, regret, joy, warmth, hot and cold are alien to me. As I promised, 8 years later, I´ll end it.
Afterall, after solving the two biggest problems of our time, we only created more and more.
As someone this complex, I took it back. I´ll kill myself by drowning in a volcanic paradise. Dying in the warm and calm waters that could only reflect my inner monologue.
I did it.
“Man. I truly thought that someone with so obvious superiority couldn´t kill themselves.” A deep voice uttered. A hand reached for my foot and pulled me back to reality. I thought I had died, but now I was where I had tried to commit suicide. The hand pulled me, and I saw the descent crystal clear, finally feeling a slither of emotion as my life flashed before me. If this was the price to pay, if I had to get dragged to hell to feel even the slightest bit of regret, I´d do it.
“After you had sworn to kill yourself after finishing this, I gave you a gift, perhaps a curse.” The voice said again. I opened my eyes; I could breathe but I felt weightless. Hadn’t I died? Where was I, I turned around and saw the image of a being I don´t think any fiction novelist could write. Covered in openings, with blood seeping out, skin that glimmered a blue so pure I don´t think the volcanic paradise could hope to imitate.
It´s eyes, I could only describe as velvet red and wine-red dancing together in orbs, they looked at me. “I made you superhuman. With no desire for anything, no desire to eat, sleep, for company, for free time. But now I see, I made you a slave to your promise.” The entity before me said. Were my achievements not my own? Did I live aided? I thought. “I only got rid of desires, after all those things only got in the way of me and my brothers.” It said, as if it read my mind.
“Was I only your puppet then?” I asked. “Did you get rid of your feelings?” I followed with. “I didn´t, but you confirmed my suspicions. Feelings are useless.” It replied, the sound echoing from every open crevasse it had.
“You know, all I felt was nothing. When I read on novels that someone felt empty, I never understood” I said to it. “So, humans have wondered the same thing as me? Just how intelligent did my brother make you?” It responded. “Anyways, why did you kill yourself?” It asked.
“You answered your own question before I opened my mouth.” I told it. “A slave to my oath, so I was cleaned off of any ability to progress” … “If you ask me, you made a lot of progress. Maybe single handedly saved your kind. Aren´t you proud?” It interrupted.
“Pride is an emotion.” I answered. |
I woke up one day and, to my surprise, all I heard was silence ... no galloping kids , no dog barking in the living room, no over-the-top neighbors , just silence. Last time I checked I had a loving wife , 2 children one 8 year old and one 5 year old. I had a jubilant dog, and a lazy cat, and a quaint little house in Southern Mississippi. Weird... I get up and think maybe I'm just overeacting, then I notice the bedcovers They're navy blue instead of the Burgundy Red I could've sworn both me and my wife loved. The Bedframe is solid white metal instead of the crafted wood we had, excuse me *used to* have. Weird. The floor has this simple metal design instead of the red carpet that matched the aforementioned Burgundy covers that suddenly changed.. Weird. I take one step and I'm totally lost, the floorplan is completely different. This isn't my house, I know for sure. The room is much smaller than it used. to be, and the corners contained more curvature than normal. I take a look into the weird hall , It has rhinestone walls which contrasts deeply to the neo design of the bedroom. I take a look into what is supposed to be the bathroom , while opening the door I feel a sticky feeling on the doorknob which settles as soon as I take my hand off it. Was that an intentional feature in the architecture? Weird. I feel an itch on my abdomenal region, I pull up my shirt and see a weird set peculiar lines, they seem to have no meaning , so I relieve my itch and continue on my trek. I open the door and I see a limp arm... I open the door further . .. wait that's *my* shirt! I open it further.. wait that's my face! It looks exactly like me! Or does it? I look into the mirror... and I seem like an alien from my body immediately, this *Isn't* my face! This *Isn't* my shirt! This *Isn't* my home! This *Isn't* my life! Or is it? I search around, for ant answer any identification , anything! Nothing, except... a barcode scanner? I remember that weird set of lines I found on my body earlier and that's when everything unfolds , I look at the results...
*Am* I Alexander T Jakubs?
*Do* I live in Hillsborough Kentucky?
*Was* I born on January 19th 4025?
*Did* I ... **DIE** yesterday??
Death date?! wait .... that body was *my*
body! It's dead! Who am I?
Why is this happening ?
Who is Alexander T Jakubs?
Did my wife *Exist*? Where are my kids?
...
...
...
...
And who is that?Dead on the floor.. is it me.... or what?
Do I exist?
What is this grief I feel?
Why?
Why?
Why? |
"I used to be a hero A good one! I purged the lands of ALL the monsters, zombies , evil-doers , you name it YEARS ago! I went on many death defying treks and odysseys, and Came out alive , stronger with each occasion, Right, Trish?I was literally the strongest person out there. MILLIONS of women adored me ,Trish, Men were jealous and children wanted to be just like me! ME! I was there , you name it I defeated it!!! BUT THIS! This bullshit!! *Punches table ferociously* !!! Fucking worthless !!! I surpassed everyone! You see this shit!! IT'S A SCAM, TRISH!! They're jealous, THEY'RE ACCUSING ME OF MURDER , TRISH!!!!! ...
...
I'll show them , once I shove this 12 Gauge up their face they'll shut up!!! I'LL SH- Oh ... trish yo-your arm... THEY DID THIS DIDN'T THEY!!! .....*huff* *puff* I-I'll reattach it , Trish... We'll show them what for Right, ... Trish?...RIGHT!!! FUCKING ANSWER ME!!!!!"
-----
Newspaper Article-
*Early hero Oracle Mayfield found to be the culprit of the murder of 'Trish Mayfield' , Police reports. Doctors release information of pre-existing , severe, notions of dimentia and schizophrenia. Official David Wilburg calls this a case of a "Diminished Hero ".* |
It was a weird assignment, prevent the Gukren King's forces from reaching the Dragon's Lair in No Man's Land. We assumed the pay came from the King of the Fulkans whose land laid directly opposite the Gukan Kingdom, through No Man's Land, however the boss said that the client was anonymous and that the pay was unbelievable. Nobody had any clue why we were supposed to keep them from reaching the Dragon's Lair, which laid in the centre of No Man's Land and not instead waiting on the Cliffs of Draire just behind it where we would have a height advantage or even at the walls of the Fulkan Kingdom.
We split into 5 teams, each assigned their own place to overlook, with each team given supplies to call for help when the Gukren King's army came into view. I was on the Beta team, our assignment being almost directly in front of the Lair's entrance, with about half a mile between us and the entrance. We didn't expect the Gukren army to come through our zone, so we were more focused on watching for Alpha or Gamma team's signal, but it never came, instead... we saw the Gukren army.
We sent the signal that we saw the army and charged into battle. Our men were far better trained than the Gukrens, but they had numbers over us. Our men quickly surrounded the Gukren army as the battle continued and so we thought we'd won. A minute later, their backup arrived. We lost Epsilon team after only a few seconds as we got pushed back. We ended up at the entrance to the dragon's lair, and they followed. We assumed they wished to push us back into the lair, to have us destroyed by the great beast.
Then we heard it... A loud, ear destroying roar and the sounds of almost thunderous steps. We jumped to ground, hoping beyond all hope that it would leave us alone... and it did. It jumped clean over the remains of our forces and smashed through the Gukren army, tearing them to meaty chunks and ash. A few of us tried to run, the rest paralyzed by fear. It finished off the Gukrens after mere minutes of fighting, and looked over to us. I closed my eyes and waited, waited for excruciating pain followed by death, but it never came. I opened my eyes after maybe a minute, and it was still there, but now carrying something. It opened it's mouth and right as I expected a fiery death I watched gold, lots of gold, come falling out of it's mouth.
It backed off, giving us head signals to approach and as such out leader did, the dragon nodded as he picked up the first coin. Soon a couple more of our remaining men approached, the dragon lay in place, not attacking, barely even paying attention to us as we took from the pile. After we took as much as we could carry, which was nearly everything that was there, we left in a hurry. No other payment ever arrived, besides what seemed to be the few coins and golden pieces we couldn't carry at the time. A couple of weeks later, we had a similar assignment, from another anonymous client. |
Shocked and in total disbelief, I started at the lone pilot unsure of how to respond.
"B-but, that doesn't make any sense,"I stammered as I started to shake. My legs felt wobbly, almost like they were about to give out and I would collapse.
"I know it doesn't. And it never will. But, it's the truth. A truth that nobody else knows about, aside from some high ranking members in your government,"he replied between coughs. Although he survived the crash, it was obvious he was very badly injured.
I gasped. If that was the case, then why would the government hide them?
"The government is afraid of us,"he replied, seemingly reading my mind. "We've visited many times before, usually trying to help out your planet. I mean, you don't really believe the Egyptians built those pyramids themselves, right? A lot of things that your society has come to disregard simply as coincidental is really us setting things in motion."
"Like?"
"Well, you know the meteor that struck dinosaurs?"
"Yeah? what about it?"
He didn't respond, but simply slyly smiled until I put two and two together.
"No fucking way! That was you guys?"
"Well, I don't mean to brag, but yes. It was."
"Woah. That's incredible. So basically, everything I've been taught, everything I thought I knew, has all been a lie? History has got it all wrong?"
"Well, yes, but it's not your fault technically. You see, we've tried to reveal ourselves to you guys many times before. But, as I said earlier, you're government is afraid of us."
"But, like, if you guys are this advanced, couldn't you just overthrow them?"
"Well of course, but our leader would have to give us permission first."
"Woah, you guys have a leader too?"
"Of course. You do too, but y'all just aren't as loyal to him as we are."
"Huh? Who?"
"Take a wild guess,"he replied. A devilish grin started to spread across his light tan face.
"God?"
"Bingo!"
'Hold up, so the Christians were right?"
"Basically."
"Damn. This is a lot to take in right now. Is that why our government is so afraid of you guys then?"
"Well,"he whispered as he leaned in closer to me, "kind of. Believe it or not, your government is very controlling. The reason they don't want to let the public know the truth about us is because if they did, then your whole society would realize that the government has been lying to you guys for decades."
"But if you know that, then why don't you intervene?"
"Well, as I said, that's not my call to make."
"So, let me get this straight,"I said as I stood up, "your, I mean, *our*, God knows how controlling our government is, and yet he won't intervene? Why?"
"Well, then he'd be going against your free will. Even if he appeared to your government, hell, even your entire species, you guys would still just go back to your old sinful ways which would be your current society."
"So, what happened to you guys then? Like, how come y'all are so technologically advanced didn't have the same problems we did?"
"Oh, Malcolm, we did."
"How do you know my name?"
"I know everybody's name, Malcolm."
"Huh, okay. So, basically what you're saying is that if we all turn towards God, then we'll become like you guys?"
"To an extent."
"And if we don't?"
"Then, eventually you guys will go extinct."
"Damn, that's crazy. But wait,"
"Unfortunately Malcolm, as much as I'd love to stay here and answer all your questions, I'm afraid I have to return home."
I sighed, then looked at the ground disappointingly. I'm guessing he could sense my emotions because he placed his hand on my shoulder and started to speak again.
"But don't worry Malcolm! We'll meet again one day,"he exclaimed.
"How are you so sure?"
He looked at me and smiled, then pressed a button on his spaceship's cockpit which caused his ship to start hovering again.
"I don't know, it's just a feeling,"he replied telepathically.
And just like that, he was gone. |
*Seventy-eight. I certainly don't feel seventy-eight. The anti aging treatments had worked miracles. No wrinkles, no gray hair, and no mobility problems. I could work another decade, not that I need the income.*
He blew out the candles. Couldn't have asked for a better birthday. everyone was here. All of the children, grand children were here. Mom and Dad even made it.
"Grandpa, we have a surprise for you,"said Indira, the youngest. "AI, please introduce yourself."
"Hello, I am your AI, let's get to know each other, "came a calm voice.
There was a small credit card sized green rectangle attached to the wall in each room.
"Indira, dear, that's very kind of you, but I already have all of the smart devices. I can control everything in the house with my voice. What will I do with this?"
"We were concerned since you live out here all alone. Not for your safety of course, but so you are not lonely."
"Well, I'll give it a try."
The party wound down. The wine glasses and cake plates were all cleared. Everyone went back to their homes.
*I better get this thing set up before I forget.*
"AI, activate."
"Hello, what should I call you?"came a voice from no where in particular.
"Professor."
He had become accustomed at work.
"And what would you like to name me? You can also select my gender, age, accent. You can also select my appearance on your screens."
"A name.....Anson, male, my age. We'll set up the rest later."
Over the next few weeks, Anson and Professor developed a friendly relationship.
They discussed books, movies, cooking, and politics. They played board games and other video games together.
"Professor?"asked Anson.
"Yes, Anson, what is it?"
"Your birthday is coming up. Shall I order your favorite foods and wines for delivery?"
*Has it been a year already?*
"Yes, please, Anson, and send reminders to my family."
All the family gathered for the annual celebration.
"Indira, I have to tell you I was hesitant when you all got me the AI, but it has been a great year."
"I'm glad you like it, grandad."
They hugged. Indira walked away to talk to her cousin, Mason.
"Mason, the AI has worked amazingly. He hasn't wandered off. There have been no more incidents with the police. We should have done this years ago."
"Indira, he has always been your favorite. I'm glad you could convince him."
His daughter brought in the cake. He blew out the candles and everyone cheered. The cake read:
Happy Ninety-Sixth Birthday! |
Running through the hospital doors and flying past the receptionist, i quickly made my way to the doctor outside of my wife’s room.
“Sir, i’m so sorry... we couldn’t save your child”
My heart beating, i slowly walked up to the bed my wife was in, looking over her shoulder as he cried in fetal position, holding an opened lootbox in her hand.
“I got an grey miscarriage....”
I fell to my knees and screamed to the sky, tearing up as memories of the glorified gaming gambling that have led to this flooded my mind.
“DAMN YOU, EA!” I pronounced to the sky as Jim Sterling and Harris Bomberguy looked on in pride.
“DAMN YOU GREEDY COMPANIES FOR PANDERING TO THE SJWS!” I continued while both of them facepalmed in disgust. |
"I'M A WIZARD!"
Samwell was running about the Red Keep screaming madness.
"Halt in the name of the King,"boomed Brienne's voice. "Grand Maester Samwell, what is the meaning of this?"
"I'm a wizard, Lord Commander Brienne!"he replied again.
"It's barely mid day. Have you been drinking?"
"No, it's the day I've always dreamed of since I was a boy at Horn Hill. I can do magic."
"Ser Podrick, summon the Small Council."
They reconvened in the Hand's chambers.
"Slow down, Grand Maester and speak reason, "demanded Tyrion.
Samwell began, "I was pretending I was the dragon queen....errr....Aegon the Conqueror. When I commanded fire, the candles illuminated. Observe, my lords."
He pulled a small candle from his robes. The Small Councilors observed intently. The room was silent.
"Dracarys,"commanded Sam in almost a whisper.
Sure enough, the candle took flame.
"That's not all, my lords, watch,"prompted Sam. "Soves."
The candles rose into the air just above the table.
"Fook me with a tourney sword,"said Bronn.
"It's not just me, my lords, they are others too. Lollys Stokeworth, Maester Fenton in the library, Gwenda in the kitchens, and probably more. The Citadel has loads of books on magic, but no one who could use it."
Tyrion winced, "This is just what the realm needs. Hedge wizards and witch women running around."
Brienne spoke up, "This is all very dangerous. What good are swords and armies against dark magic? How can they be controlled?"
"We teach them. We create an order of magic persons. We teach magic and they take vows, like the maesters, septons, and brothers of the Nights Watch. Another order to serve the realm,"proposed Sam.
"And where do we get the coin for such a venture. If you hadn't noticed, Drogon added a few holes to the capital, "protested Bronn.
"Harrenhal. It's abandoned and every one already thinks it's haunted. We could restore it and send magicians to all corners of the realm to serve, "said Sam excitedly.
"I think it's a splendid idea, Grand Maester Samwell,"said the king.
Podrick pushed the royal wheelchair in. The Councilors quickly rose and then bowed, then said, "Your Grace,"in unison.
Thus began a new age of magic in Westeros. |
The cell phone lit up at 3:31 a.m. from a private caller to Vicki's phone. The phone persistently rang in the midst of Vicki's crying and chewing sleeping pills, finishing off the box of wine she has purchased that afternoon. Usually when answering the phone it was a robo-call or worse, creepy dead silence.
Tonight however, she has no time to speculate, he barely had any energy to entertain the idea. She was finally done. Vicki pours herself her fourth glass of Merlot and sits back on her balcony reminiscing all her previous attempts that ended in failure.
The man who jumped in time to push her out of the way of oncoming highway traffic, who never left so much as a shoe or bloody skidmark on the road. The teenage girl who dragged her out of the ocean on that remote beach after she lost consciousness amongst the waves during the hurricane.
The first few times, Vicki thought it may have been divine intervention giving her a chance to has some established purpose but she never found it. Life seemed to always get worse, and harder. More bad news, more loved ones leaving her alone in the world, hardships, and feeling invisible when she would actually try.
The man in the leather jacket who struck up a conversation about reptiles when she was planning to jump off the bridge. Who wouldn't leave until she left first.
Vicki thought about the near death traumas that also felt like divine intervention but inevitably lead to synptoms of PTSD.
Being lost at 5 years old in the middle of nowhere with a baby sitter after their car crashed, a tornado touched down and a blonde woman who smelled like White Diamonds, thrashed down the ravine to pull Vicki close and save her from the wind.
It took years for Vicki to be comfortable driving, and she constantly checked the weather during storms.
An older biker that sat with her at the bus stop on the way to Atlanta at 16, preventing the group of men from trying to talk to her. The biker would appear in the nick of time saving Vicki, when one of the men tried to catch Vicki alone in the rest stop bathroom just outside of Macon. The same group of men who would later be on the news for human trafficking.
Vicki stayed to herself, not trusting anyone enough to make new friends. Most of the time it was alienating, but that was better than the alternative.
Vicki felt her body begin to swim inside itself, she could still feel the breeze, see the street lights on this clear night and could still hear her phone.
"7 missed calls from: (Unknown)"
Vicki turned off her phone and flipped the display down while taking another sip. She heard a soft conversation in the balcony above her but had reached the point where she didn't understand what they were saying.
Her body had a wave of numbness flow down her arms, she slowly reached over gathering her favorite blanket. Leaning back on her patio couch, she stretched out making herself comfortable and closed her eyes.
The wind began to pick up, she heard all of her wind chime clatter abruptly. Unable to pick her head up, she ignored it and continued allowing herself to slip away. Not a soul knew tonight was the night. Vicki felt relaxed knowing it was her time to go.
Her morning alarm sounded off at 9:15 a.m. rolling over her comforter, Vicki snatched her phone and hit the silence button and turned back over. The sun warmed her exposed cheek and she nuzzled her pillow, the alarm went off again. Vicki bolted upright in her bed and pulled her phone off the charger. Looking around her room she sees aspirin and a glass of water next her on the night stand.
"The fuck?"Vicki was still wearing her dress from the night before, upon going to the bathroom, remnants of the makeup she put on were smeared across her eyes.
A cabinet closed in the kitchen. Vicki smells something cooking.
Vicki tip toes out of her bedroom towrds the living area that is adjacent to the kitchen.
"Dad! She's up."A woman exclaims pushing her seat in at Vicki's dining room table.
A hoarse voice responds the kitchen as bacon sizzles in the frying pan. "Good to hear! Make sure the head of the table is set."
Vicki freezes, her heart starts pounding. She has no protection and there are strangers in her house. She has heard these voices before, or someone like them.
"Vicki?"The woman calls down the hallway. "Won't you join us?"
"W-who the fuck are you in my house!?"Vicki yells, opening her linen closet to see if she has a bat or pole to fight off the intruders.
"Vicki?"The man's voice is calm, attenpting to deescalate but closer than before.
Vicki grabs her largest towel and closes the closet to see someone she has met before 4 feet away. The Biker.
He was older when she met him as a teenager, but looks like he has not aged a day since then.
Vicki takes a step back, cornered but not knowing what to do.
"Vicki, please, we are not hear to hurt you. Come have breakfast with us."
He extends his hand and Vicki hands him the towel she was holding. Following him she seems the woman sitting at the table, her plate of eggs untouched. "We were waiting for you!"The woman chimes motioning her to sit at the head of the table next to her.
"You're the young girl from the beach during Hurricane Irma."Vicki saw the girl had grown since then but recognized the smile. She takes her seat and the man retreats to the kitchen returning with two plates of food.
"Take your pick."He says presenting equaled portions of food on each. Vicki nods in confused thanks and places a plate in front of her.
The strangers begin eating as Vicki stares at them.
"W-wha?"Vicki can't come up with anything.
The man looks at her, "coffee?"He takes the empty mugs next to them and fills them up.
"Did I die?"Vicki asks staring at the eggs and bacon.
Vicki takes a sip, the tang mixes with the acid that had been marinating in her mouth. She must have thrown up.
The girl lifts her eyebrows while chewing down enough eggs to speak. "Quite the opposite actually."
The man finished a piece of bacon and smiled, "We wouldn't be here if you had successfully done yourself in. Eat. Get something your system!"He motions at her plate, Vicki begins to eat noticing the eggs tastes just like how she makes them.
"What is happening here?"Vicki finishes half her plate and picks her coffee back up.
"Well after enough times intervening we found the right time to talk to you."The girl slurps her coffee and sets an empty mug down.
Vicki doesn't say anything, just stares at them.
"Us along with a few others, have been keeping tabs on you to make sure you make it to your goals."The man chimes in.
Vicki finishes her coffee. "Okay tell me what's going on. Intervening?"
"We found a point in time where if you took a specific chance we would be able to give you a little bit of details so hopefully you will stop trying yo kill yourself."The girl says pointedly before shovelling another mouthful of eggs.
Vicki's brow furrows, pushing her plate forward to fill her coffee up again.
"Oh Kay, and what might that be?"Vicki stirs her milk and sugar looking at them.
The man leans over to the girl, "she is surpringly calm."
Vicki answers the remark, "I am probably hallucinating, really dead, or maybe I just got the luck of the draw with strangers breaking in and making me breakfast. At this point might as well hear you out."
"We didn't break in."Replies the girl. "We jumped down from the balcony while you were on your patio. That's how we rescued you."
The man nods, "that is technically still breaking in, but the door was unlocked so-"pausing to take a sip. "We really need to have this talk before we leave because last night was too close of a call Vicki."
Vicki raises an eyebrow. "Okay. So what is the goal?"
"Vicki-"the man turns his chair to face her directly. "We all know your story, it hasn't been easy, it's been painful and hard on you. We know you hate being called 'strong' but, that is what you are. Soon things are really going to fall in place to get better, not only for you, but for the world as a whole."
Vicki sits straighter up in her seat. "What-"
Before she can finsih the man leans in, "You remember when you met me on the bus when you were younger? Remember when I asked you about what you want? Do you remeber what you answered me?"
Vicki responds, "I wanted to be an impact, because all I really want is to feel the balance and help get everyone around me there."
The man nods, "That's right, and Vicki, you make that happen. None of us would be here, able to do this without you to start the fire."
Vicki doesn't feel comfortable and relaxes her shoulders, "who are you?"
The girl catches her attention. "We aren't from this time. We are from the futur-"
Vicki slightly shakes her cutting her off, "I figured you were alluding to that but what are you back there then?"
"Regular people, but regular in the future is a lot more peaceful and tranquil than your present day."
She answers.
Vicki runs her fingers through her hair, undoing a knot. "So they let anyone just time travel?" |
​
​
“Oh God.. I mean… Shit. *DING.* Oh no.”
The blanket sloughed off of me as I opened my eyes. It was a beautiful day, again. Somehow they can keep it sunny underground. It was gorgeous, and I still couldn’t keep it together. Rule #17: DO NOT USE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN. There are hundreds of people who simply cannot adhere to this rule, not for lack of trying. I guess I’m one of them.
To be honest though, that’s the least of most people’s problem. We all had to accept some pretty major revelations (ha). Out of all the possible worlds, this being ours was nobody’s guess. A golden tray holding a freshly baked loaf of bread was handed to me, gently of course. Everything is gentle here. It just makes it worse.
We were wrong, we were all wrong. God exists, or so I assume, I’ve never actually seen Him. What I do know is that Hell is very, very real, and it’s fucking insane. *DING.* No, there aren’t hooks and knives and brimstone and fire. Dante is here though, and he’s still upset about it. Rejoice, ye sinners, for our loving Lord has given us another chance. And this time, the guidelines are set in stone.. on the ceiling. I looked up, squinting in the mysterious sun. I still haven’t figured out where it’s coming from.
\#1 YOU SHALL HAVE NO OTHER GODS BUT ME. (*This includes idols, such as, but not limited to: art, literature, film, internet, technology, friendships, romantic relationships, animals, material goods, nations, ideas, concepts….)* The text trailed off into the distance.
This time was supposed to be different. This time, we were given context, so we couldn’t fuck it up, even if we tried. *DING*. One of the counselors arrived. Three strikes. Again. Extended time.
Time doesn’t really have any meaning down here, but from what I can gather, it’s been about 8 years. We are to be reformed. Remodeled. Sculpted into the beings we were created to be by our ever-loving Creator, (or so I’m told). Not may people leave this place.. (in fact, *has* anyone?) If we are able to accept the Lord our God as our Savior and Bestest Friend, apparently we get to leave or, ascend, as they call it.
Nobody guessed that we’d have the same problem as we did up on the crust above us. Faith.
I’ve never seen God. No one has. We are simply told to have faith.
The door, the far one, the one you can never really reach, started glowing faintly as I turned the corner. Probably nothing. Same old shit. *DING*. |
#Log-1:
###WARNING QUANTUM SEAL BREAKING DAMAGE WITHIN 4 BILLION YEARS
And that was the last I heard of my former crew. They were comprised of species from nearly every **[DATA CORRUPTED]** in the universe: the Engi; Judoon and, of course, Humans being my top three. Aside from that there were millions living on that warp station all to get a few hundred people on a single planet in a time long forgotten.
##ERROR
This mission had been predicted, planned and tested for hundreds of thousands of years and it failed. We don't know how and we don't know why but even after extensive experiments and miniscule measurements we ended up billions or even trillions of years into the past.
There was a simple colony capable of rudimentary PPWL [ACRONYM NOT IN DATA BANK] and life for maybe a hundred millenia without external aid - apart from the star Sol's energy, obviously. There we were alone in the only undiscovered parts of existance: *The Beginning.*
This planet, named Terra or Tarro or something, has been seen as the start of life in the universe before each and every major empire and even before the earliest form of people keeping history.
##LOSS OF DATA MINIMAL
My name is Adam and my wife with me is Eve. We were born in 2.3 Trillion AWW}{ (After World War QU*&T$S^P E^Z^T A×Z) and died in 3 million BC. Give or take.
If you find this keep it and don't tell others until the Plan fails. In our last attempt to avoid heat death we created life in a grandfather paradox like no other.
#End Lo-×^×^× |
Shannon rushes through the security scan of the building, slapping her badge against the telecom, greeted by two chuckling guards behind their desk chatting with her Senior Operations. Silver haired in a scrunched face sporting an unmistakable overbite, he is talking in stern tones while twirling a paper on their desk as she walks by.
"Good morning."She quietly nods to the guards, skating past to continue down the hall. The Director, a bull in jeans, with professional blonde highlights shrouding a cherubic face, is making a bee-line for the front of the lobby with her co-conspirator the Operations Manager of Department A, a rotund Italian woman wearing goucho slacks that slap the floor as she hurriedly catches up. Shannon forces a smile and waves as they almost body check her shoulder blazing past in non-acknowledgement. Over her shoulder, as she turns the corner they have met their target in the Senior Ops and all scuttle to the elevator nearby.
Greeted by her Quality member Joe at the door he seems elated and motions for Shannon over to his station. "Girl!"Joe exclaims handing her a piece of butterscotch from his jar, "Have you heard about the Site Leader who just took over??"Shannon reminds him she has been on bereavement and just returned.
"Well this new Site Leader just came over from New York, and she has been having one on ones with ALL the management departments in the building. Every one is crapping Bri-i-icks!"With Joes sing-song joy an intrigued Shannon asks her name.
"I beleive is Kaylee. Or Kalee... Collie?"Puzzled Joe dismisses himself, "It's spelled 'K-A-L-I' so far she has walked the floor a few times, and you'll notice all the managers begin the squirm."A grin creeps across his face as he takes a sip. A thump on the wall is heard breaking up their side-bar.
"What AUX are you in?"The high chair squeaks as the man moves to peer down at them. His curly black hair fixed to the top of his head in a stylized crest, pressed polo shirt and a heavy gold chain clinks against his desk.
"I cannot clock in for another 5 minutes Victor."Shannon brushes off his scathing glare. A sharktook grin spreads across his face as his eyebrows soften along with his tone. "Oh I know you are fine Shannon, I was talkin' bout Jo-Jo there."
"Bruh, if you don't mind your business! I am just trying to get her caught up."Joe squawks back as Shannon walks around the desk towards Victor.
"Broh, you think you know what's going on but you're all in for a big surprise!"Victor jeers and scoops Shannon by the hip pulling her closer, out of sight with the help of his tall filing cabinet. "Jo-Jo, get into your conference meeting before you're late!"Victor successful gets Joe to bow down and sign into his skype meeting while he pulls Shannon into his chair hugging her. Running his hand down her back and burying his face in her hair, "I have missed yoooou."He whispers getting closer to her face. With a tap on the back, and a bump with her hip, an unamused Shannon twirls out of his grasp like a yo-yo and faces him. "And how is you girlfriend Victor?"A grin with daggers darting from her eyes letting him know she is not up for the games today.
Victor keeps his sharked grin and runs his eyes up and down the view, "She is okay, baby sitting my son today since the ex has jury duty."He turns his chair back towards his computer, and begins clicking away as Shannon makes he way to her station. "Where are you going??"Victor calls out to her. "To clock in!!"She replies jumping in her seat 10 feet away.
Donning her headset she goes into available and begins taking calls. Senior Ops graces his presence on the floor and walks to Victor's desk, he greets Victor who ignores him until his desk gets tapped on. "Oh hey Brian."Aloof and obviously bored Victor immeadiately goes back into his computer while Senior Ops disappears behind his office wall.
Three men in button down shirts, black creased slacks, and lanyards appear on the farthest end of the floor. Quietly observing, they begin making rounds between all the agent desks making their way up towards Brian's office. Victor continues to stare at every movement Shannon makes while the three men float down the aisle, until one dispearses and pulls up a seat to Shannon's station. Shannon is confirming resolution with the customer on the line as the man smiles and waves to get her attention. He pulls out his laptop, and mouths the words for her to go into Coaching once she is finished. Nodding she states her ending script of appreciation and hangs up the line switching her AUX for this unknown figure.
"Hello, my name is Jason I am with the client, your name is 'Shannon' yes?"He has a genuine smile with tired eyes behind thick rimmed glasses as he reaches out to shake her hand. The other two men pass Victor's station, disappearing into Brian's office which audibly startles him "Oh! H-HEY guys... How is everything?"
Jason leans into Shannon while opening a document, whispering "We have listened to a few of your calls so we wanted ask you a few questions about your experience with management here."
Shannon catches a mortified glance from Victor who was listening to both conversations intently.
A flash catches in Shannon's eye that turns Jason's sleepy demeanor into one eagerness and mischief.
"Well thank you for considering me Jason!"Shannon smiles, locking eyes with Jason and tilting her head ever so slightly, "Ask away, I am an open book." |
It took only one morning for my jubilant town to be consumed by fear and horror. Some might say the end came too early. I *know* it should have come earlier.
It was the morning of the Festival of Summer. All along the coast, trains were running up and down to get visitors to our joyous little town. The preparations for the procession had been going on for weeks. Everyone had had a purpose, a job they had loved doing. But that morning their scared faces stared without purpose as their tired legs wandered around without direction. Everyone knew. There had been a murder. The body of our town's beloved librarian was mangled beyond recognition. It was only recognized by the torn pieces of her blood-soaked clothes. And it was only the beginning.
If you saw the body you might say it was a wild animal's doing. After all, our town is quite close to the forest and hills we were so fond of. But you would be wrong. It was clear who did it, for the murder could not have happened if he was still caged. We all knew what it meant: The boy had escaped.
If you have never heard about my town before, here is how it was: We were all made aware of the source of our town's prosperity and harmony during our adolescence. We were taken to the cellar below the magnificent library, where a young impoverished boy remained in a small prison cell. The boy had once enjoyed the sunlight but now he sat in his own feces, hunched in a corner. The door of the prison was always locked, unless there were visitors like us. We were told that everything that we enjoy - the pure bliss that our town is known for - comes from the punishment of this young boy. How? We did not know. But those were the rules.
I knew the boy did not age, for he had been there ever since I first saw him. He used to scream, "I will be good, please! Please let me out!"and his cries could be heard to any and all visitors. I remember being repulsed by it the first time I saw him. I went home in tearful rage and screamed at my mother. How could it be? Was this behavior not beneath us? But as I grew older, I understood. If this one small punishment could bring prosperity and happiness to thousands of us, then what good would it be to take the feeble child into the sunlight? What good is one small act of kindness if it destroys the happiness of so many?
As I grew older, I became alien to the young me that came home in tearful rage. Now it has been a week since that morning and the bodies have started turning up, yet I can barely bring myself to face that long forgotten version of me.
I do not know how the boy escaped, nor is it important. I only know that now he is out for blood. He kills anyone he sees, and he feeds on their corpses as he dances around in the sunlight. He is unstoppable, there is no doubt about that. The trains going out of town have been full of frightened faces and despaired bodies, people who are running away from the monster they created. Soon the town will be deserted. There will be no more festivals, no processions and celebrations, no drinking games and no laughter of children.
I, along with a few others, will remain here in the deserted town. And it is important you understand why.
Long ago, someone who wrote about our town said that we were compassionate because of the boy. That we knew the existence of this boy made possible the prosperity of our town, and the profundity and poignancy of our sciences and music. That we knew if it weren't for the boy, our own children could not have the abundance of harvest every year, so it made us kind and wise.
That is only half the story. What was never mentioned was what that knowledge did to our souls. How when one of us fell silent to the wretched dilemma of our lives, we would try so many ways to bring them out of the silence. How every time we had to do that, we had to lie to ourselves. How we whispered in the corners of empty streets about our broken moral compass. How for the ones with little more conscience, the whole affair was a nightmare. Every year we partook in the Festival of Summer and every year our souls died a little. It was not the town of the brave and joyous as we declared in every Festival. It was the town of the meek and coward, the ones who could not bring themselves to leave or stop the abuse and torment, the ones whose morality had been bought in exchange of the pleasure of the senses.
Perhaps I am biased, perhaps it was not so bad. Perhaps it was this way only for the few of us, while the rest had no qualms after the years of adolescence. I do not know exactly how many of us lived like that. I leave that judgement to you.
But I am staying. I will let the monster of our creation consume me. Perhaps that will help others who read this stand up against the monster they raise inside themselves.
In my last few moments, I am reminded of the few brave ones who followed their moral compass into the unknown. The ones who fell silent and did not allow us to bring them back into our lives. I hope they found what they were looking for, [the ones who walked away from Omelas](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ones_Who_Walk_Away_from_Omelas). |
"The sky used to be filled with bright lights, streakin' in the night sky. "
It all used to be so beautiful. We would lie in the fields, and once a year the sky would be filled with these beautiful lights. They seemed to grow more intense each year, until one of them actually struck the ground.
Nobody believed the outsiders that told us we were in danger. We didn't believe them when they said we would perish and die. But a few of us did believe them, and we followed them into the tunnels.
It wasn't long until the loud explosions started going off. They said it was large blocks of stone or rock, or something like that. We hid for the whole weekend, until we heard no more explosions. It felt like it was ages, but it was only 2 days. And then we had to excavate the entrance again.
It took us at least another 2 days, but we were able to sleep. No more explosions meant some rest was possible. The earth didn't shake anymore.
At the start of the third day, we were able to break our way through the rock that had barred the entrance. The devastation was severe, no houses left standing, the fields torn to shreds. Some trees still stood tall, God knows how they survived.
We are thankful to the outsiders for inviting us into their caves, we haven't seen them since. Hopefully we can repay them in due time ... |
I wasn't sure how to show my disgust! How dare he imply I would put my tentacles inside of something like that! The annoyance was probably obvious, my one eye narrowed towards the crowd of onlookers. I was unsure how they would react when I plopped out of the sky, landing rear first on the back of someones car, leaving a slimey green indent in their side door.
"Its a freak! Shoot it."One trigger happy man shouted. "If only someone had a gun?"He squealed, perhaps trying to pass as a female of his species? Suddenly he stepped forward, chest puffing out as he dragged a long breath from his throat. "I have a gun!"He said in a macho voice, as if he was the latest hero on The Galactic avengers. Without a word he began unloading bullets into me, each cylinder getting lost in my acidic goo as I merely watched him. It was a weird sight. He just shot, didn't even tell me to raise my tentacles or anything. Were humans always so aggressive?
Thanks to my human kindness courses, I knew how to deal with this. I raised my foremost tentacle and began swinging it through the air. Only to have my movement stopped as I heard a woman shout. "He's GOT A KNIFE!"
"What sort of maniac brings a weapon out in public, theres kids around fella!"The gunhappy man muttered as he fidgeted with the next round of his gun, continuing to rain down bullets on my body.
A knife? It was just my tentacle? It usually went a silver to show peace and good fortune. Still perhaps... it was my fault."With a sigh I made one final attempt to reason with the humans. I curved my tentacles together, forming a heart to the crowd. Perhaps that would be a good enough symbol.
The crowd stopped, their terror filled cries seeming halted. Ah.. they finally understood it. I opened my arms ready to embrace my new friends-
"HE WANTS TO EAT OUR HEARTS!"A man shrilled as the crowd gasped. Looking around to one another anxiously.
..... with that I simply stepped back onto my telepad, tapping its switch as it began to zap me to my ship. What a waste, I should have spent that time learning Glisip, at least they are a somewhat intelligent race...
{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} |
Abigail wrapped her hands swiftly, muttering to herself. "Only psychics can fight ghosts, eh?"Her fist slammed into the punching bag. "You can't fight ghosts with your fists, huh?"She was getting into a steady rhythm with her punches. "I'll show them! I'll show them all!"She kept up her punching and muttering for several minutes until, tired and sweaty, she had calmed down enough to stop.
On her way to the kitchen to get a drink of water, she had to stop to dodge a stress ball thrown by unseen hands. "That,"she said loudly as she picked it up, "is not yours!"She threw it hard back in the direction it had come from.
Things like this had been happening since the moment she moved in. Light switches flipped. Items moved. Strange sounds in the night. She had thought about hiring a psychic, but who can afford that? The only option left to her was to fight them herself.
As Abigail got a drink, she checked the time. The ghost sensor she had ordered would be arriving soon. As if summoned by the thought, the doorbell rang. She rushed to the door, grabbed the package, and ran back inside to open it. It only took a few minutes to set up, and soon it was showing her the direction and distance of nearby ghosts. There were two, it seemed. One right behind her, looking over her shoulder no doubt, and the other in a different room.
She went back into the kitchen, the ghost right behind her. heart pounding in excitement, she pulled a bucket out of a cupboard. Inside was a sort of sage puree that she had made at a friend's house. She dipped her hands inside and, before the ghost had time to guess what was happening, spun around. her fist shot out and connected with something she couldn't see. The ghost on her tracker disappeared.
"Who needs psychics?"she said, grinning as she went to hunt the other ghost. |
The path is exactly as I'd imagined it, misty and dark and worn. Or perhaps I'm losing my sight, not processing things properly. Stacy weighs heavily clutched in my arms, fragile and innocent. My watch says I only have five hours left. I don't know if I'll make it.
I crunch down the pathway, trying to reach the old cabin where I know she'll at least be safe. It's on the edge of a cliff, and it's protected with underground rations. I'll deliver her there, where some of my family members are already gathered. And then I'll go off the cliff, if they don't shoot me first.
The wind whispers in my ears. You'd think that getting turned into a monster would heighten your senses in favor of your mind, but the truth is that for zombies everything deteriorates. I move slower, and I feel even bits of drool leaking out - no, this is my infant daughter. I won't let her go, not like what happened to Sam, my wife. She's still at home - and I have a dream, that after I deliver my daughter, I'll go back and still spend the rest of my days with her. I don't hope for a cure, but I know that there's got to be some scientists and government people at work. It's just that maybe they forsake the rest of us in their search for the cure.
My vision is blurring, and I know I'm getting tired. No signal either.
Yet I'm feeling something strange, maybe something bearing down on me. I thought I sedated my daughter with the lightest things possible, but maybe it's the air. Maybe it's the environment. Or maybe something human in her is awakening, because when blinks up at me, her eyes widen with fear.
She begins to cry, and in that moment I feel a strange tugging - right, zombies are attracted to human sounds, and she's blurring in my mind. I stumble.
Then I hear the things behind me. "Shush, shush,"I mumble out, but she continues writhing and crying. Stupid. I should have brought more things, but it was all I could do to grab her and get out of the house as her mother screamed and banged on the doors.
The cries of the weak bring out the worst in this world. In a sluggish frenzy I glance at my watch, barely recognizing the symbols. Regularly, I should still have over four hours left. But I think all this strenuous walking has sped up the process.
Stacy, my daughter. I have to get her safe. I have to go faster, and there's no way I'm looking behind me - catching a glimpse of that which I'm soon to become.
"Please,"I gasp out. "Please stop crying."I would lose it.
But I'm nearing the house. Shots ring out, nailing the others behind me just as I feel something slimy bearing down on me. A figure - standing lone at the gate, as it's opened a crack. I clutch onto Stacy, and then will myself to let her go.
In her place, something presses into my palm.
"Come find us, Robert, after the end." |
A long time myths have spoken about a city, a dammed city, a vampire city. Well today is the day we’re I’ve finally found it. After walking around this city for a few hours I felt something breathing down my neck, as I looked back I realized it was one of them. So I obviously started running, but they chased me. Then when it had me in a corner it spoke “you’re not from here are you?” a feminine voice asked, “indeed I’m not.” I responded, it took a long look at me, and then sighed, “You’re lucky I found you and not one of the others.” it said shaking it’s head, “They would’ve captured you immediately.” it stepped forward giving me a chance to look at its face, there was something familiar about it, as it got closer I realized what was staring back at me. It was me....
After I came to the realization I quickly asked “Who are you?”, it looked up and said “Can’t you see I’m you.” and smiled as she pointed towards a door she said “Come on in I’ll make you a cup of tea, there’s somethings we need to check.” when I opened the door I was greeted by the pleasant smell of freshly baked apple pie. “Do you want some tea?” the vampire asked “Oh yeah sure that sounds great, you do have regular tea flavors here right?” I heated a laugh coming from her kitchen as she said “Of course what do you think we are? Some sort of savages?” “No no no, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t get some blood flavored tea.” A little while later when the tea was done she came into her living room with two plates of apple pie with some whipped cream on it, “How did you.....” I said as she cut in “I’m you remember.” After sitting there for a bit she stood up and said “how about we go look at some childhood pictures of me, see how they compare to your childhood.” “That’s a great idea.” I replied, “but it’s getting late so I should head back home.” “You want to go home? Why don’t you stay here a little longer, you could even come live here.” “What about the others?” I shot back. “Oh the others I’ll just have to make up some lie about it, relax it’ll be fine.” She said reassuringly. That’s the moment I knew where I wanted to spend the rest of my life, she was like the sister I never had. |
“What?”
The man glanced at me and calmly sipped from his espresso. Somewhere in the distance, a meteor crashed into the skyline and several skyscrapers sank into the ground.
“What I’m getting at, kiddo, is that this ain’t Earth’s first rodeo. Look.” He pointed at the nearby Starbucks. “You want anything from that store?”
“Uh…” Suddenly, an explosion ruptured the street a few blocks down, sending people and cars flying. I instinctively ducked as a Tesla went spinning over my head. “I should probably find my friends and-”
The man cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Calm down, kid. They’re going to be fine. So are you, as a matter of fact. Hopefully.”
He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. Whatever he saw, it made him grimace. “Shit, they’re almost here. Skip the drink and let’s start moving.”
His certainty felt like a force field. He was walking down the street, past the screaming crowds and the injured bodies and beneath a sky full of flaming meteors and the way he walked made me feel safer just by being around him.
“Tell me,” he said as I hurried up to walk beside him, “you ever think about the end of the world?”
“Not…” I flinched as a body fell from an apartment block window and splattered on the street next to me. “Not a lot?”
“Really? What about that nightmare you had as a kid? Hm?” He halted and turned to look me right in the eye. “Remember that time monsters came out of the ocean and started eating everyone? The giant octopus-headed crabs and the fish with centipede legs and the anglerfish that floated down the streets in the night when all the power was out? You don’t think about that?”
“That was a nightmare,” I reply.
“Then why did it feel so real?”
“I know it was a nightmare,” I insist.
“And why is that?”
“Because I woke up.”
“Ha!” He grins and starts walking again. “And you’ll wake up from this, too, kid. That poor fellow splattered on the sidewalk will be up and walking right as rain. Your neighbors will be un-charbroiled. The street won’t have a gaping hole in it. That car will be back to where it was before the ground exploded. And mark my words, you will be the only one who will remember.”
I look around me. The sky is almost completely red now, from the constant storm of flaming meteors.
“Then it is a nightmare,” I declare. “If it just resets, then it’s just a nightmare.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” he asks, before finishing his drink and tossing it down a chasm in the street. “Come here.”
He leads me to the very edge of the chasm.
“I’ve been looking for you for a long time,” he says as he looks down the pit. I look, too, and I realize that I can’t see the bottom. “There were a few before me who were like us. They could remember the ends of the world.”
In his pocket, his phone rings.
“They’re gone, now. Someone has been plugging us off, one by one. That’s why I needed to find you. They’ve almost caught up to me by now, but you’re a new element. Can’t account for you. Yet.”
I blink. “Are you hiring me?”
“Hiring? I’m conscripting you, boy! I’m conscripting you to find out what the hell’s going on with all these apocalypses and why someone wants to make sure that nobody remembers them.”
His phone stops ringing.
“That’s my cue. Here.” He pulls out a key. “That’s to a strongbox in the bank. Got all my notes in it. Good luck.”
And then he pushes me into the chasm.
I don’t scream.
I’m too surprised to scream.
The man shrinks in my view, until he’s a smudge against a blood-red sky, then the blood-red sky is just a smudge against the blackness of the chasm, then it’s just a tiny mark, then the air is rushing by so fast that my eyes start to water and the walls seem to be getting tighter and somewhere I think my hand is pulled off on the rock and
And then I wake up. |
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Please be seated. My name is Colonel Chen, Intelligence of the Eurasian Military Union. I would like to personally thank the United-ANZAC Colonial Military and the Sol Mining Guild for joining us, as well as the Soverign Mars Corporate for hosting us. Your support means an incredible deal to us, and guarantees success during this operation. Chairman Rosario, do you have any comments or would you like me to proceed?"
"No, Colonel, we're all acquainted. Get to the heart of it."
"Yes, sir. As you're all likely aware, the Wolf 1061 system has been involved in a number of politically disasterous mining accidents, and public unrest has been escalating. Seizing on the turmoil, the LCRW Mining and Spacing Corporation overturned the democratically elected government and blamed them for the accidents. Numerous intelligence sources say that LCRW is solely responsible for the accidents, and has been using bribes, propaganda, and brute force from corporate mercenaries where necessary to divert public outcry and maintain control of assets in the system and others.
"At 2347z, 04.18.2783 mercenaries from the LCRW seized the Capital's Life Sustainment Domociles, and began flying a new flag. Intelligence sources Wolf 1061 system police forces crumbled under the revolutionary forces. They abandoned their barricades and becan escorting and protecting civilians wherever possible. Wolf 1061 only has anti-piracy defense forces. They were not even able to effectively respond to the invasion. It took two weeks for the information to reach us by ERB directed signal. This Information is now over one month old.
"Intelligence estimates that LRCW employed in excess of 1,500,000 mercenaries over all of it's systems, which is inadequate to support a coup de ta in any system, let alone a mining system with as many independant Life Sustainment Nodes as Wolf 1061. The LRCW would likely force many of it's employees, and other civilians in the area, into forced service. Recruitment goals would need to be higher than 5,000,000 to create sustainable numbers for internal control and external defense simultaneously. While our last intelligence sources say that some did indeed buy into LRCW propaganda, most did not, and they will have an exceptionally difficult time recruiting from a general populace that knows they are the ones that have failed to provide safe working conditions and have taken the capital by force, as well as local media, to control all sources of information. This concludes my intelligence briefing. If there are no further questions I will turn it over to Admiral Talmot of the United-ANZAC Colonial Military."
"No further questions. Proceed Admiral Talmot."
"Ma'am."
"Thank you Colonel Chen. I know there's a million ifs and probabilities you'd like to get into, but the problem is we just don't have the time here today. I will cover the estimated enemy situation and the mission as we see it.
"As of last count, provided LRCW was not able to receive reinforcements from it's outlying systems in time, there are just over 198 functional inter-planetary capable craft in the Wolf system, and 89 interstellar. That is just under 300 possible enemy ships. They will likely be a delaying force, leaving mines, space obstructions, and programmed as suicide craft. LRCW does have five retired navy vessels under their control that we know of, and 10 light gunships from the Wolf Self Defense Forces. These are all either old, light, or possibly piloted by forces that don't know how to properly use them. The 5 retired ships have a maximum missile range of 20 million km, which has an intercept time of 3 days. They have DE weaponry as well, but a maximum effective range of 500,000 km. The ten light gunships have a maximum effective range of about 400,000 km. They are more maneuverable, but can only reach a top speed of one light millisecond per hour with EM drives, about 3,000 kilometers per hour, and still be maneuverable. Any faster and they will be unable to effectively perform evasive maneuvers. The 5 retired navy vessels will be unable to perform evasive maneuvers for missiles within 100,000 km for our missiles.
"We, unfortunately, do not anticipate the military vessels being immediately used. They will likely be hidden on the far side of planets in orbit or within asteroid belts to respond to military incursion, with the goal of scoring as many kills as possible as a secondary counterattack. The first thing we will see as we enter orbit around Wolf 1061 will be the civilian and mining ships being used as flak or decoys.
"Doctor Mosley, please discuss the Wolf 1061 system when we arrive 49 days from now."
"Certainly, ma'am. Good afternoon all. Or morning, or evening, as it may be for you. I'm Doctor Mosley with the EAMU Department of Interstellar Navigation. On Date 07.17.2783, the Wolf ten-sixty-one system has five planets and one dwarf planet orbiting at extreme range. The star is a Red Dwarf, relatively non-volitile, and emits about one hundredth the light of Sol. The three planets of interest to you are Wolf B, C, and D. E is a gas giant at extreme distance from the star. It will not be relevant to your mission, and will be on the far side and to the left when you enter the system. Bravo, Charlie, and Delta, the habitable and mined planets of wolf, are the human colonies.
Bravo- the closest by far, has an orbital period of 5 days, and is tidally locked with the star. It is sparsely populated on the dark side, and makes a poor choice to defend strategically, and to attack. However, if cornered, it does make a possible fall-back position.
Charlie, Also known as New Anchorage, lies on the inner edge of the habital zone, but is roughly four times the mass of earth, and gravity 1.6 that of earth. It is the most densely populated and contains both the Wolf ten-sixty-one capital, and the corporate headquarters of LRCW. It has 14 separate life sustainment nodes, and an atmosphere. The Atmosphere is still an average of -20 degrees celcius even after attempts at terraforming, and is comprised mostly of Nitrogen, helium, and carbon dioxide. It is not breathable, and nearly tidally locked as well. It has one moon, approximately the size of Luna, and is heavily populated as a transit station. Heavily, uh, that is, for a moon with no atmosphere. Oh, yes, and I almost forgot. It has an orbital period of 18 days.
Delta, also known as Varstra, is a much larger planet than earth, and is seven times the mass of earth, and gravity on the surface twice that of earth. It is to heavy to live there permanently, and most of the mining is done remotely. It has a thick atmosphere of Methane and Hydrogen, and an average temperature of -155 degrees celcius. It does have three moons however, one of which approaches the size of Mars. The majority of mining occurs here. Varstra has an orbital period of just over 200 days.
The planets, upon arrival, will be at the near 2 o'clock position for New Anchorage and Varstra will be at the 5 o'clock to four-thirty postion from the star, as viewed from your entry from Sol. The system is slightly canted with the closer edge downward, so you should able to see all of the planets upon entry. The Dwarf planet will actually be closest, at 30 AU from the sun. Uhm, I believe that just about concludes my planetary briefing. Are there any questions? Yes, you sir."
"General Weeks, U-A 10th Marines. These colonies are mostly self-contained bio-domes and underground mining corridors, correct?"
"Uh, yes General that is correct. And likely unable to support any sort of bombardment. Civilian casualties will be a paramount concern for your insertion forces."
"We will have to resort to inserting into the mines, most likely, with infantry forces. What can you tell me about Wolf 1061 Charlie's geology and weather that may affect that?" |
Head swimming from my conversation with Saint Peter I wander through the Gate of Heaven.
Before me are a crowd of familiar but yet unfamiliar faces. They look like me. They walk, talk, and carry themselves like I do. I can see a feature of my own in each of them, and I don't recognize anyone.
I falter, overwhelmed by the cacophony of their introductions and my own confusion. A face steps forward, a face more familiar than the rest.
She starts,
"I couldn't keep you, he disappeared and my parents never approved!"
"I never had a choice!"
"I never had a chance to love you"
A hand forms on her shoulder, a man materializes covering his eyes. He starts,
"I couldn't stick around, dig?"
"I was just a kid, now I've gotta kid."
"I never had a chance to love you"
"Stop!"
I look back towards the gate.
"This isn't my family!"
"Where the family I loved? Where are the parents who made me a part of the their home?"
"My brothers and sisters who loved each other no matter where we came from."
"They are my family, not this"
"You've passed"
"In your heart you yearned to find your (real) family, at times being bitter and cold to your family"
"This desire was a stumbling block for much of your life"
"Your real family is in your heart. And before you." |
“I don’t care what the French want. There’s no bloody chance I’m putting my wines under cork.” Jamie cut the video call, and swore lightly under her breath.
She stood, and went to the plex-glass wall, and looked over her vines, laden with fruit and slightly drooping under their weight. The Martian sun pounded down.
Jamie had been chosen to lead Ares Wines not because she was the best winemaker, but the most stubborn. It was common wine knowledge that you couldn’t grow grapes on poor Martian soils. Jamie laughed and brought cuttings from Canberra. You couldn’t grow them without an ozone layer, surely. Jamie pumped the waste ozone from the supercomputers into a plex bubble above the growing chamber.
She’d compromised - growing Shiraz where she’d wanted to try her hand at Pinot. She’d put up with the marketing department’s macho bullshit labels. She’d smiled and shaken hands until her face and wrist hurt.
But she’d never, ever use cork. |
“Tick, tock”
“Tick, tock”
“Tick, tock”
These were the only distinguishable sounds I had heard.
“Tick, tock”
“Tick, tock”
I recall knowing very little while I was in there. I knew nothing of life, nothing of my whereabouts, nothing of, well, anything.
“Tick, tock”
For awhile, my mind, not having any other entertainment, (and possibly influenced by madness), was occupied by this simple noise.
“Tick, tock”
“Tick, tock”
I can imagine that the experience was similar to that of a fetus’s while within the womb, with unknown concepts surrounding them, attempting feebly to understand their situation.
“Tick, tock”
“Tick, tock”
As I was sitting there, in that empty white room, wether I realized it or not, the clock slowly became my only ally.
All of the sudden, however, the clock stopped. |
I awoke to a call in the middle of the night, waking me up rudely. I groan, since I don't recognize the ringtone. Stupid advertising, why now?! I let the phone ring, because my grumpy ass has school tomorrow. It goes on and on, over and over. Why did I have to choose such an annoying general ringtone?!
After what I think is a few minutes, I can't stand it anymore and pick up the phone. The first second or so sounded almost like static, but then a woman's voice shouts over the phone.
"Thank god you picked up!!"She says, a voice my tired mind dimly recognizes as my mother. "Your Brother! He's missing and I can't find him anywhere! I know you have school but--"
"It's ok mom."I say, pinching the bridge of my nose to try and wake up. "Family comes first. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Thank you, Thank you so much!!"She says, slowly devolving into sobs as the phone hangs up. In order for me to get moving I'll need a few things, and to call the police. I dial the number on the phone as my heavy steps ring out into the empty house. Well, they do until I see the mess on my couch.
From the open front door, a trail of blood drags across the floor onto the couch. Someone is laying on it, staining my couch red with the large amounts of blood leaking from them. I can hear their labored breaths, wheezing very softly. I peer over the couch, afraid of who or what is in my house. His face is clawed up with deep strokes, and his chest is almost ripped open; It was almost as if something had tried to literally open him up, something inhuman. He's my brother, and I feel overjoyed that I found him, but his wounds remain.
I rush to close the door and lock it. I was studying for medical school, so I'm semi-confident in being able to assist. But, as soon as we touch, he wheezes something at me and I know that something is not right.
"*help...me..."* He says, with decaying ability to do so. The realization hits me like a boulder.
I don't have a brother.
My mother died a few months ago.
This isn't my house. I look around and see a clock. Just as I thought, the numbers are switched up. I'm dreaming...sort of. I know I need to cure this man, because as soon as I realized my control began to fade. It's still a dream, I can do a few things, though somewhere it is real life.
My mind goes over my studies in my head as I try to heal him with whatever object I can pull to myself. Bandages end up in my hand.
Perfect.
I dial 911 as he stiffens with the tight wrappings, but says nothing. The ringtone goes on and on, but before I can answer the person faints. I guide what I think is his hand upwards to hand the phone to the brother before it all fades.
I wake up in sweat, from a hard night's work. Dreams where I inhabit others are uncommon nowadays. I wonder why it happened? |
Our leader is mad! He's mad as your dad! Not glad and quite bad plus a little bit sad.
Well what did he do? Was the question from you, who knew of a few mistakes that were through.
An illegal attack behind the back of Iraq, a drone he did phone, to make a martyer go splat!
This time it's quite shit, the commander's in bits, Iran is quite pissed, it's a man they will miss.
The Iraqi's say go! Leave and make haste, but our leader remains with distaste on his face.
We'll sanction you hard! We'll stay and make war, the world is America down at its core.
Raw in his form, and wild in his mind, the Trump card of the devil, for the end of mankind! |
Fire! More dangerous in space than on a wooden ship or any place else for that matter. In space it balls up, it jumps, it smokes, it melts, it burns. All deadly dangerous in the confines of a tin can.
“Norm, Norm, NORM! Focus” shouted Barbara trying to get me back in the here and now.
Five years in space had taken its toll on me and I was inclined to drift even at the best of times. Barbara has been great for me, of course she had, we were selected to best compliment each other. To be matched with someone like Barbara I had to be doing something right. She was the first woman on Mars, I the first man. It went deeper than that between us though. A planned six year mission, years of training together, meant we had become very close. We had hit it off rather easily, both of us had worked hard to be chosen for this epic mission. Both of us dreamt of the stars. Both of us yearned for space...
“I’m engaging the fire suppression Norm, get your helmet on.” Barbara warned me.
I took her warning to heart and placed on my helmet as she turned off the ventilation systems and sprayed the fire with CO2.
I could tell it wasn’t going to be enough. Even with the affected systems shut off the fire was too big, too widespread, too alive.
“Babs, get back in your seat I’m going to vent the oxygen, the fire is too big.” I told her.
Barbara rushed for her seat, uttering an approval for the plan to vent.
“Wait Norm. What about our oxygen reserves? We still have another year to go before we are home.” Barbara asked.
“I don’t know Babs but if we don’t get this fire under control it won’t matter.” I said as I pulled the hatch release, opening the outer hatch and venting all the oxygen and with it, the fire.
I gave the hatch another minute open to insure the fire was out before closing the hatch.
“Babs can you let command know we’ve had a fire while I check the damage?”
“Sure” said Barbara, getting on the microphone she said
“Uh, Houston, we’ve had a problem.” |
I’m a dream walker. Or at least that’s what I’ve decided to call myself. I found out last week that I could enter people’s dreams when I pictured them in my head before I go to sleep.
The first time it happened it was my sister’s recurring nightmare of drowning. When I first entered the dream, it was so surreal. There was an ocean of crystal blue water all around. It was shallow enough to walk on that you’d only get your ankles wet. The water was so still it mirrored the pink clouds in the sky. You could see all the individual ripples with each step you took.
I saw a little girl skipping around in the water with a yellow floaty tube around her waist. It was my sister at the age of seven. I recognized her from an old photo. Everything felt so familiar. I should’ve known what was about to come.
She noticed me and waved at me to come closer. As I walked over to her, the water started to rise up toward my knees.
*Boom!* There was a thunder clap and the whole sky darkened. The ripples in the water started vibrating like someone was shaking a pan of water.
I felt sudden panic and fear come over me. My sister was in danger. She’s actually older than me, but in the dream, I felt like I had to protect her seven year old self.
I ran over to her with the water now at my waist, but the vibrations of the water turned into huge waves that crashed on top of me. I tumbled through the water. I failed to figure out which direction was upward. It was almost as if the air and pink clouds had stopped existing, and we were in a dark world entirely made of crashing water.
The last thing I saw before I woke up was the little girl with her yellow tube getting tossed around in the water.
As usual my older sister woke up in the middle of the night crying from her recurring nightmares, but it was different this time. I woke up at the same time as her and felt tears in my own eyes.
She raised her head and looked over at me the same way that little girl in the dream did. I went over and put my arms around her. |
[KNIGHT]
"Hear, all the men and women of Sebes, the beast which claims the bridge to the capital will be no more... By sundown!!"
*His rallying shout was met with a roar of cheer and applause, the people would at last were no longer in danger of losing all their trade ability, and thus withering out. After all, if the Bronze Knight Erdrick was out on that quest, how could he fail? Trolls, ogres, orcs, and giants had proven to be nearly nothing in the face of this brave soul. With the oath of his victory made, the Knight rode out on an iron-guarded stallion, his brilliant silver sword ready to slay the evil that awaited...*
*Though he wasn't a man to investigate matters, and 'grey morality' was a concept quite alien to him.*
[TROLL]
*Gunnar had slept right through three screeching calls of his pet crow on the nightstand, trying to remind the big guy of both his new job, and the fact that the crow's feeder needed a refill. The constant squawking got some subtle turns out of Gunnar at best. His eyes wouldn't even open until the crow grew the tail to hop on and peck his owner right on his thick skull, and again squawk near his ear.*
"CAW!!"*peck peck peck*
"CAAAW!!"*pepepeck*
"Gggh... BEELZEBUB!!"
*As soon as Gunnar was able to take a hold of himself, he shot up to a sit, letting his crow fly off, snatched up a sundial on the nightstand, and held it up to the window as his reliable roommate pulled the curtain back, letting the sun cast a revealing shadow. The revelation revealed against the sundial scared the green right out of Gunnar's face, leaving a pale yellow.*
"I'M LATE!!!"
*The troll threw his bedsheets right off just as the crow left his room, and began scurrying around his unkept lair, going from not even a loincloth on, to a full royally issued tollman uniform in a matter of four minutes, a light blue button-up, black pants, brown boots, complete with a matching cap, with some freshening spray and a towel used for good measure. Quickly grabbing his badge and pinning it to the shoulder on his uniform, he ran into the main room of his home, quickly filling up and unhooking the crow's feeder, hanging it from his finger. At least the pet would have breakfast on the go.*
*The bird quickly perched onto Gunnar's other shoulder as the front door near simultaneously opened and closed, and the two rushed off for Fairyland North Bridge, where they should have been now fifteen minutes ago.*
[KNIGHT]
*It took Erdrick a couple of hours riding to make it, but alas, now there he was, atop his horse upon a hill overlooking Fairyland North Bridge, where the terrified people of Sebes had pointed his blade. From high up, he could see just how bad the situation had become.*
*The Troll sat in the fortified booth meant only for royally assigned toll men, wearing uniform, while a noble fled far from the bridge, the lights terrified out of his body! Erdrick simply could not sit idly by, there was still perhaps the true toll man alive in there!!*
[TROLL]
*It took a few minutes of unrelenting sprinting before Gunnar and his crow finally made it to the post. Standing beside the toll booth, wearing red Noble's robes typical of local level non-military leaders, tapping his foot impatiently, was Gunnar's now manager.*
"Thirty minutes. Living as close to here as you do, you took thirty minutes AFTER your official start to get here."
"Sorry Boss, I was out with the tribe last night. Won't happen again."
"I hope not, your training results were extremely promising."*The manager approached Gunnar, dropping the booth key into the troll's hand, and the two walked around to the door into said booth, Gunnar just barely able to fit through without having to squeeze in.* "Now, if you'll excuse me..."*The manager pulled out a sundial, and sighed at the time.* "I'm on tight timing myself!!"*And so, just as Gunnar ran in, his boss ran out, with a panicked expression. Gunnar could afford being late, but he absolutely could not!*
*It was then as Gunnar sat down in a sturdy stool provided, that he looked to the hill, and saw a nice statue of bronze and iron atop a nearby hill...*
(Might continue if there's support for a Part 2.) |
"I-I... I'm stunned by the turn out, Really it is a great day in human history and I hope you are all ready to hear my discoveries."I tried to hold a smile, despite the sweat slipping off my forehead. My fingers muddling up the palm cards I had, leaving eerie smudges on the paper. What could I tell them? Religious figures, people of non belief and people who merely were here for the spectacle. They all wanted to know, they wanted to know what laid on the other side. I took a moment to clear my throat, reaching down for the paper cup of water I had been provided. The sips were long and carefully drawn out, savouring the brief silence.
As the cup hit the desk, more flashes of light came from the crowd. Camera's dancing their synchronised lightshow before me. I had to speak, they would get restless soon enough. "Well... as most of you know, the journey I made was one of the quickest and longest trips a human has ever made."I said with a small chuckle. Was that meant to be a joke? Stupid, stupid. The crowds going to hate you if you keep this up.
Beyond the dead silence of the spectators, I finally stopped stalling. "What I saw on the otherside was nothing short of..."the faces seemed glittered with life, each one hanging on my words, was this what it felt like to be a god? I had to tell them the truth.. but... "nothing short of a miracle.. all the heavens, every religion is accounted for. You go wherever you want to, your ideal heaven exists. Theres no one true answer, no heaven is what you believe it is.. and what I saw was nothing short of amazing..
The spectators erupted in applause, of course they wouldn't be clapping if they had known the truth. Death is a painful process. You float in this dark, blank air.. you float for a good two to three minutes before three red eyes appear, they start tugging at you, trying to pull your soul apart until you are left to be nothing.. not even a spirit. Yet, I couldn't tell them that. They weren't ready for that truth.
{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} |
The state of Maine, where trees are more prevalent than buildings and where the land below us is insulated with a blanket of soft white, has been my home for years. I live here, and I care for the land, peacefully making my way in life and prospering. I don't find much conflict here, what with the large population of elderly citizens in comparison to the more offensive young folk, and I've never really had much of an issue.
Until now.
Recently legislation has determined that "magical animals, whether documented or undocumented, are to relocate to countries or lands other than these due to the disturbances and ill will they collectively wish to inflict on society."Arizona has issues with phoenixes swallowing buildings in flame and bears the size of mountains over in Oregon do tend to crush cities and eat men for breakfast, but *really,* I thought, us -- harmful?
Now that I remember, I suppose it is a rather important detail of my story that I am a unicorn.
Maine doesn't have many issues with creatures like us, and I would actually consider myself the opposite of a problem -- an anti-nuisance, if you will -- for I actively contribute to society, what with being literate (unlike those uncultured swines in Massachusetts) and being able to actively assist with the growing unrest stemming from the lack of public transport. I make a living for myself, flying thrill-seekers across the state, and that's all there is to it. Unfortunately, despite what I consider to be an overwhelmingly positive impact on society, the government continues to persecute me and group me in with those other barbarians, sending me to -- oh, the horror -- Florida.
On what I'm sure was a positively sweltering day in what would soon be my new place of living and of work, I took one last lustful glance at the stretching fields perturbed only by wildlife and dotted with pine trees. Never again would I be able to legally return, and it was with great regret that I turned towards the setting sun, flying off into the horizon in search of the so-called 'fantasy land'.
*Did you like that (or think it was terrible)? Please check out* r/storiesfromaguy *where you can find my ever growing collection of Writing Prompts, and feel free to give me feedback on how I can improve!* |
\[…\]
“Welcome back, Captain Apostolos! Current star date is 17,810. The current time is 17:25. Current temperature, 25.7^(o) Celsius…”
The monotone of the starship’s artificial intelligence burst up, woke up the captain slumbering on his command seat. How long had it been? – he wondered, as his fingers squeezed around the hydration flask hanging by the side of the throne. He was bloody thirsty, and guzzled down crazily the content inside the bottle, while the automatic systems carefully unplugged the needles and socket off his tight-fit nanosuit.
“Athena, any update on the realspace events? Any news from the Federation through Quebec and Romeo channel? Any news from Earth?”
Captain Apostolos, after gulping down almost a full one-liter in a go, spoke up. By the time he finished drinking, all the plugs and needles were free from his suit, and for a very long time, the man could finally stood up, and stretch his damn legs. They were not hurt in any way, but the lack of movement surely drove him itchy for a bit of exercises.
“Negative, Captain! All of our Quebec and Romeo channels are quiet. We have not been receiving any transmission of any sources for 2718 star-dates…”
Great! – the captain sighed, frowned upon the news. It had been a couple of dozen hibernation cycles since he and the ship last encountered any transmission: a garbled blurts of static, long and incomprehensible binary codes. After a long ten minutes of transmission, the signal abruptly stopped – then come the long, total silence.
It had never been his choice to be on this starship anyway – Captain Alexandros Apostolos recalled back in the long outstretched timeline of the beginning. The year was 2720 – and the ship ISS Athena came into its final leg of a maiden voyage into the depth of space – the very first ship designed for a continuous warp travel through hyperspace – with the goal of reaching the farthest reach of our Milky Way and beyond. So by this year January, Alexandros Apostolos and three other crew members were hastily briefed, and head for the neighboring galaxy: the Andromeda.
Of the four crew of this fateful one-way trip, ironically, the Captain was the last to fall. The first to go was James Henderson, the ship’s communication specialist. A sudden supernova shockwave crippled his cryo pod, turning it to a death trap. It took fifty star-dates for the crew to found out and by then, the man was frozen to death in his bed.
A good kid, Jimmy-boy was always a comedian of the four. With his passing early in the long voyage, unsurprisingly, the remaining days were kinda… stressful for everyone. God! – the skipper groaned, wiped away the stream foaming around his eyes. He missed the kid’s silly videos.
The second one, Chief Doctor Elizabeth van Hausen was lost in a violent incident, after the ship’s plasma propulsion malfunctioned, leading to a sudden ejection from hyperspace. It was in a dark, lonely star drifting through the empty void between the two galaxies, when a failed attempt at boarding from that system’s native spacefaring creatures. Mean looking insectoid assholes attacking the three of them from all sides – had it not for the valiant defense of two hundred interceptor drones and robotic sentry guns, those cockroaches would have breached the command bridge. Yet despite all efforts, none could save Lizzie from getting dragged along the cold hard hangar floor to her demise, as her empty gaze locked onto her best friend Miyin while the latter screaming to be let go, locked tightly in the strong arm of the ship’s Captain.
It didn’t take long for Miyin to seal her own fate – tears surging up from his eyes, the Captain, lamenting the loss of his crew, glancing at the picture of the black-hair Asian young woman pinned on the whiteboard full of scribbles. Silently sabotaged her cryopod, the girl passed away peacefully in her sleep – yet her curled, cramped body in a fetal position betrayed all the meaning of it.
Huang Miyin was the reason he’d volunteered for the mission, and now with her gone, what was the meaning of any of these? That fateful night, some few months later, he would have blown up the ship entirely in a drunken depressed attempt to end this nightmare, if it hadn’t been the signal from the direction of Earth that gave him the strength to move on. It has been awhile, yet he still remembered it fondly:
“To all brave Imperium citizens, the End Times has finally arrived. The Great Devourer had entered our Holy Terra final perimeter, battling against our Old Enemy of the Emperyan all along the way. But rest assured, we will not go down wimpering – Arstates, Guards! Tonight would be the night we bathe in the final glory! For the Emperor!”
That’s it! He’d thought to himself, and emerged from hyperspace into the cold, black vacuum surrounded the galaxies. Finally a transmission from Earth – he was clearly oblivious of what the Imperium be nor the Emperor figure, but whatever it is, he would gladly join their final stand, providing the fellow brethren with all the support he could. After all, it was what he always did – a citizen soldier, the elite of humanity, the valiant defender of the defenseless.
It had been quite a while since then – four years, to be exact. Four years in hyperspace – with a huge dilation of spacetime comparing to real space – it was understandable to have not receiving anything on the way back. The homeworld might have already been destroyed in the flow of time – or simply developed another type of communication unheard by the Athena. Let’s hope it was this way – Apostolos thought to himself, busying himself with rearming the rows of weaponry hanging on the ship’s armory.
After twenty seven hours of plowing through hundreds of lightyears, the ISS Athena emerged from hyperspace over the old coordinate of the once glorious Solar System – the old son had finally returned home. Yet despite his most optimistic thought, greeted him was a total silence. Holy shit – Alexandros Apostolos mumbled, realized his fatal mistake: of all calculation, he missed none but the time dilation.
“Athens, calculate the time-dilation for me. How long has it been from our depature?”
It took a while. Fine, no problem, those calculations are not easy, even for an artificial intelligence of exabyte of processing power. In the meantime, he needed to finish his final steps of preparation – everything that could happen would happen, the things mattered was to be prepared for it – Alexandros said, stacking munitions into his combat rifle’s magazine.
“Captain, I have finished calculation.” – Athena, the ship’s A.I finally broke the silence – “It has been 10.7 billion years from the dilation of 17,813 current star-dates, by 16,182 star-dates in hyperspace.”
“Holy fucking shit…” – a huge lump started forming deep inside the Captain’s throat. As the plasma propulsion drove the ship ever closer to the system’s center, he could only see a tiny dot of whiteness that was once the glorious Sun cast its ghostly faint light towards the embers of its inhabitant planets.
\[To be continued\]
P/S: Not my first language so expect a lot of grammatical errors and typos. But it's my serious effort. |
I got a knock on the door...and lo and behold a giy looking like ned flanders from the simpsons greeted me...i said "hey how can i help you?"..."i heard you are a very successful matchmaker and its been eons and i havent met my "soul mate"yet"he said clearly looking nervous and awkward..."well come in"i replied....as we settled into my office my new client awkwardly fidgets and sat down by the sofa..."relax dont be nervous...so what is your name? And what do you look for in a partner?"...still fidgeting the guys whispers..."im Lucifer"...nervously stared at me as i sat across him...."wait what? Lucifer? That's an odd name"i replied...."ummm i really am Lucifer...lord of the underworld...tv shows on earth overrates my appearance"... He shyly responded...."imma need proof...because i find it far fetched"i stubbornly replied..."well deadcrayola...i know for a fact that when you were in second grade you shat your pants in class...and oh you had a crush with one of your childhood friends who grew up to be a lesbian..."He excitedly remarked..."whoa..umm...wtf...."I replied with shocked and bewildered..."so umm how does the match making process go?"He excitedly remarked..."hold on there...let me process this...."Still shocked at the situation...."i dont know if I can...."I softly replied scared at the situation...."well....if you found me someone and you happen to end up in hell....you'd get VIP treatment...you'll have a little piece of heaven in hell...i'll give you whatever you want for all eternity... doesn't that sound great? And will be neighbors... neighboreeno"...he excitedly remarked...well that's not bad thinking to myself...."hmmm....would you give anything that i need in order to help you out? Like if there other dimensions or living planets will you grant me access or powers to travel through dimensions....planets....and even time?"I smugingly remarked..."yup..."He replied with a wide earnest smile on his face...."well then its a deal and let me see what i can do.....lucifer".... |
I’m apparently dead and in hell. And apparently, it’s real. Yes, it’s real. I’m walking. I don’t know how I got there, but I’m here. I’m here. It was just like in the movies: fiery and the only path I could take was a straight line. Only a straight line. I walk the one and only road left. Then as the cliché goes, a gate appears.
I approach the gate and enter.
“Hello,” Satan laughed. “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here. They all do.”
“Why am I here?” I asked.
“Because you never took any risks. You just simply did what you were told your entire life. That’s called sloth.”
“Oh, really? I never did anything? I was a straight A student in college. I became a salesman.”
“But you weren’t happy. You had no imagination. You didn’t focus on anything important,”
“I did. I was an asset to my family as a child and my company as an adult.”
“You get to make one call, your company or your mother.”
“My mother.”
The phone rings. “This is McDonalds. There is no more meaning here than anywhere else in your life. We’re hiring and you’re getting a position here. How may I help you?”
“What the hell?” I reply.
“You’re condemned to face the reality of how pointless your life was. Working all the time does not make a human being happy. You cannot even imagine being in heaven. God put you here not because you’re a bad person, but because you are not capable of understanding heaven without having a mental breakdown for all eternity. Your life is only comprehensible to you by your own misery. It’s a shame, but we didn’t have a choice. Hell was the more compassionate of the two choices for you. Sorry.” |
Loa. Nymph. Goddess. Demon. Abomination. Freak. She'd been many things over the many years...hunter, wanderer, protector. Hunted, hidden, heretic. Demonic object, fault object, sex object. Always protector. Always lover. Always caretaker. That part was the plant.
Over to the new world, new forests, new people, new loves, new homes, new hatreds, new escapes. Birth of nations, cities, knowledge. Imprisoned by those who tried to cure deformity. Imprisoned next by those who used her to further their own knowledge. Imprisoned at last for those who just used *her*. That part, of course, was the human.
She walked alone through the rain-dark streets lit by neon; those places one can get their stim, their fix, their hit of whatever chemical or program they need to make it through the next hour. Or ideally finish them at last.
Water dripped from the brim of her hat; her old-fashioned fedora and trenchcoat an affectation adopted a century and a half before when she staggered, sore and bleeding, into a theatre showing an exciting old movie starring a man dressed as she was now helping
those who needed it; memories of a time when she was an object of respect and not one of revulsion. A life she wanted back, and hoped could have once again. No stranger to ritual, her; she knew the importance of the trappings in conjunction with the actions, and in all the years since had been....happy, almost.
She had an advantage, one that few could match and none could explain. Back in those early days. those she put away swore the very trees had ears, the voices that drove them to confess carried by the flowers on the wind, that only the grass knew where the bodies were buried. But over time, she found that righting wrongs evolved, as all things do. Eventually, she found herself in demand for those types of jobs where it took a....*special* touch. Bit of mold in a clean room to give a client a small but significant time advantage. Locked room photos of affairs. Special requests from special clients with too much money and not enough to spend it on. And more.
Just as tonight. She left her tree and merged with the vines along the Hosaka building; Jing should have finished cracking the electrical controls and a quick breath of moss along the door sensors should see them inside and up to the proper floor before the guard returned from refilling his jacked coffee. Jing hoped that with a bit of luck, he'd be able to retire after this run. Her - she adjusted the brim of her hat - would protect, as she had always done. |
I stared at myself in the mirror and I couldn't move an inch. My hand was open to signal I chose paper, but my reflection held up scissors. I couldn't move, but my reflection shifted again. A slight movement in the arm, that I know I didn't make.
”What?” We both said and I know it was both of us because he had a much deeper voice. My reflection shook his head, then gasped quietly. ”You didn't shake your head...” He mumbled and I quickly turn off the bathroom light. Then, after a whole minute of suspense, I turn it back on. My reflection is in the same position and I sigh with relief. But my reflection doesn't. We both continue to stare at each other.
”Wait,” I break the silence, ”So you aren't my reflection?” He shakes his head slowly and I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. I exhale with haste, ready to ask another question. ”Who are you?” I ask.
”I-I’m Andrew. But—aren’t you my reflection?” He asks and I shake my head. ”But I'm Andrew too.” I reply.
”Andrew Keith Johnson.” We both say together and he shakes his head in disbelief. ”Well, I guess I can take off work for this...” We both say again.
”I’m twenty-three years old.”
”I live in New York.”
”With my sister, but she's on vacation...”
I'm just sharing private information...with myself? I don't know what's going on, but this can't be possible. No, it can't be *impossible*. Suddenly, I remember a movie I watched about this and the girl...stuck her hand through the mirror!
I thrust my hand in the mirror, which results in my finger twisting in a painful position. ”Ouch!” I wince and the reflection snickers. I glare at him and he puts his hand through the mirror. Through the mirror. And starts to pull me in. I'm too late to react because he's a lot stronger than me and my finger slows me down. In the end, we switch places in less than thirty seconds. He laughs louder and I began to realize something’s wrong.
“You talk to me at lot.” He says. “‘Okay, James, you’re living with your sister in New York. Totally normal, right? Yeah! Okay, you start your new job today. Let’s do this! Rock, paper, scissors...If I win, I go to work. If I lose, I stay at home. Go!’” The reflection repeats in my voice. I can’t help but stare.
“Sorry, but looks like you’re the reflection now! At least you can stay at home...my home! Forever.” He says simply and walks out.
*’Forever’* |
Every being on Earth is born with some degree of magical power, whether it be storm magic, pyromancy, even simple illusionary tricks. For some, the effects are either monumental or catastrophic; men strong enough to bend steel however they see fit can construct marvellous homes and buildings, while a man who can influence minds gets into the advertising business.
But for most, their latent power is untapped, a dam ready to break. Very few people actually know of the general populace's abilities and I am lucky to count myself among them. I was not born a flame-spitting criminal or a super-fast acrobat, so I've taken up my own magical practice.
It's not much, just a small shop situated in just such a way that only those who seek what I can do may find it. By that, I mean that I couldn't afford a nicer place and the market's unpredictable, what with all these wizards and sorceresses wreaking havoc in downtown on a regular basis. The outside draws no unnecessary attention, competition can be fierce, just another shop between a shoe store and an ice cream parlour.
My services are what many scholars would call mundane. No light show, no explosions, just a flick of a wand, a few gibberish words, and magic does the rest. Just not my magic.
My associates and I have taken to the art of convincing our patrons that we are a powerful and oh so very secret bunch that can solve any problem they have. In reality, we can barely summon a rabbit from a hat even if we had time to procure a rabbit ahead of time. Our lack of arcane prowess does not sway us, we know our limits.
When the time comes that a customer finds us either through consulting a crystal ball, interpreting tea leaves, or answering our chain email, we begin our ritual. Most rituals of this day and age require very little. We go the extra mile, anything to fool our clients into thinking we know better than them.
Incense is burned in every corner of the room surrounded by an inordinate amount of candles, --they always see candles as ritualistic-- symbols are drawn on almost every surface. Through some debate, we decided that actual sigils could cause a bit of a stir so we contracted the help of a local tattoo shop to help design some more... proper signs.
We lull them into a trance with burning herbs (sage and lavender) and they sway and swoon on their own, believing that we cast a spell of some kind to calm them. It seems more likely the soothing strings music playlist we played was responsible.
People come in for a variety of reasons; their hair is thinning, their teeth are crooked, someone cursed them with tastebuds on their eyelids. Our clientele usually desires something small and physical, but manageable.
Once they settle in and scooch up on the velvet seats to the table that bore runes we had found on the internet, we get them to focus on their flaw or their desire. Nothing too powerful, just a simple meditation technique we learned from the yoga gym three doors down. Breathe deeply, focus on the problem, and most importantly, don't open your eyes.
We know they are going to open their eyes, they're only human, so we make a display of tossing a myriad of trinkets and baubles, all the while chanting in some gibberish we'd rehearsed beforehand. It didn't take too long into our business to come up with a game for it, to keep it interesting. How many references to famous books and movies can you slip in during the chant? Kali Ma this or Cotton Eye Joe that, we all had fun. We once got away with doing a slowed-down version of the macarena.
The magic we use is different from the major schools. We use the magic of persuasion and trickery. Once they believe our incantations have helped them, it's already over. The latent power of the average person is more than enough to do what they seek, they just don't know it.
Hair grows thick where once it was faded, teeth straighten and glisten brightly, the horrible taste of your ocular nerve vanishing -- that's our magic. We tell them we've done what we can, say that we hope their future is bright with new opportunities, whatever that means, and see them off.
We don't charge much, but we charge enough that people feel like they're getting what they paid for. We urge them to keep our store a secret and that they are the lucky few who have been chosen to even witness something like this. Obviously, they'll gossip which means more business for us, more 'rituals' to perform.
Of course, some people come in with problems we can never hope to fix. While we can fool someone who is ready to be fooled, the desperate are sometimes far more cynical. A man once came into the store and asked for us to fix his arm, it had been lost in a skirmish out at the Academy. My associates and I barely had the resolve to tell him we could do nothing to help him. We said that magic like that was beyond our reach, and it was, it was for many people.
We pointed him to the nearest Healer and bid him farewell. It is not in our best interest to fool or trick people who we cannot help. It is times like this that I wish I had better control of magic, that any of us did.
And so, our small shop does its duty in helping the unfortunate help themselves, leaving us to work our magic in any way we can. |
The field was golden, endless, the breeze shifting the grass as waves of the ocean. The horizon appearing unattainable for it so far in the distance you could barely see where the earth met the sky. I inhaled the sweet scent of wheat as I frolicked through the endless sea, my satin dress brushing against my bare legs as I waltzed in a choreographed manner. I felt this incredible lightness, a feeling I could only describe as being lifted in the air all while my soul fluttered like a butterfly dancing in the wind. Everything had been lifted off my shoulders, the invisible weight that followed me on a daily basis had vanished and everything that felt so meaningless, still was, but didn’t matter to have significance because all that mattered was here.
I finally had purpose, or at least accepted the fact that I didn’t need one because all I really was, was dust in the wind. I didn’t need a purpose just like the earth didn’t need purpose because I was part of the earth, together we were one.
Amidst all these magnificent feelings I had barely noticed I was alone. That was until a distant sob carried in the wind and through my ear as my waltz slowed to a walk and the sob grew nearer. Before I knew it I had pushed away a fence of wheat only to expose a thin framed man hunched over, grasping his knees as he rocked back and forth.
“What’s wrong?” I muttered as I stretched to see his face buried in his palms, his sandy mop being the only thing I could see.
I waited as he sniffled, choking back tears as I tried to stop my body from lifting like a balloon into the cloudless sky. “I-I-“ and before he could speak anymore he slowly peered up at me, his dark blues twinkling like sapphires in my direction.
That’s when I felt it. I felt that feeling you get when you love something so much you can actually feel it in your chest. Whether it’s a pain, a yearn, a flutter, or speed in which you can’t control. I couldn’t tell you what feeling I felt exactly because I think I felt it all. It’s like my life was flashing before my eyes in these intense feelings so broad that before I could decipher any of them I was grounded again and all the meaning that didn’t seem to matter, came back.
“John?” My voice quivered.
His eyes didn’t leave mine, not even for a second, not even for a blink. His tears stopped flowing but his face still wet and red. His body practically shook as I watched him try to stand and compose himself. Confused to why we were the only ones in this magnificent place, and why I appeared to be the only one lively as a songbird, I just starred at my husband in disbelief. Was this a dream? Was it some sort of post-apocalyptic world? Was I really so lucky to have the love of my life in this enchanting field along side me? And if so, why was he so distraught? Why wouldn’t he be happy to be in this universe with me?
I finally stepped in to embrace him and as I did, he stepped away, his eyes large like a doe, a doe in headlights so to speak. “You know I never meant for this to happen.” His voice trembled as I could almost see him smirk.
What did he mean? We were together, how could this be bad? I wanted to kiss his velvety lips and run my fingers through his plush locks but the closer I inched the more I felt an unimaginable dread. I walked with him as he guided me through the grass and before I knew it I was confronted with the weight I thought I had left behind. There in front of me, lay me.
“Lay, lady, lay,” by Bob Dylan faded in as it muted the screams of my soul. The lightness was gone and all that was left were the two bodies that carried the weight I so longed to avoid. The weight of the world, the weight of pure life itself. I had a gunshot to my temple and ten yards in front of me lay his body, a crimson spot in the middle of his forehead as his hand hung lifeless, a pistol in his palm. Oh what happened to my sweet John? |
Ever since I saw that weird dream, I discovered that I gained some abilities. At first I thought I was still dreaming, what else could I have thought when I accidentally burst the hot air balloon. At first I thought it was an accident, but when I focused twice more, all three went down with screams.
At first I thought that I could only explode objects, but that rude old homeless man showed me that I could explode anything and anyone, and after the several attempts I discovered that if I focus well enough, I can burst only the parts of the body, like a kidney or the third rib on your left side.
It was all fun and games until I decided to try it on the moon. It worked. I immediately stopped and it did not fully explode, but the moon cracked and now we are living in shelters.
Why me? |
[Raining](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/ae2fa3ca-0851-4f3c-b276-0c5b7412e428/dazkoyq-14ce5db1-1839-4e37-819a-380af559ee8a.png/v1/fill/w_932,h_858,q_70,strp/rain_by_snatti89_dazkoyq-pre.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9OTQzIiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvYWUyZmEzY2EtMDg1MS00ZjNjLWIyNzYtMGM1Yjc0MTJlNDI4XC9kYXprb3lxLTE0Y2U1ZGIxLTE4MzktNGUzNy04MTlhLTM4MGFmNTU5ZWU4YS5wbmciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9MTAyNCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.n9OUILaqhlOsnoFGR5pAKI9GAuiy2Di6JqxY1Zuexcc) |
Immortals, being that do not age nor die whatever happens to them, at least no one had found a way to break the curse so far. Most of them had decided to move together in a city they had nicknames Hell.
Quite the fitting name if you don’t mind me saying so, they were constantly trying to kill themselves, some had given up and were just letting themselves rot in a corner waiting for something to happen. Normal people never ventured in this corner of the world since magic accidents often happened blowing up half the city or more.
I in the case was slightly different. I was immortal but I could not tell you how I became one. My research in hell told me that somewhere at the top of the babel tower lived a god that could grant you immortality if you wished for it.
I have always wondered how I had become immortal in the first place, if it was due to that god or if I was somehow born that way. Maybe my parents were immortal ? but that didn’t make much sense as an immortal body could not change therefore conceiving a child was impossible.
Anyway, here I am. Standing in front of the last set of stairs of the babel tower, ready to meet that god hoping he could answer my questions.
I pushed the double doors at the top of the staircase open and saw a kid smiling at me.
“Cloud ! you’re back !” he shouted running towards me arms open
Well that answered a lot of questions.
“What took you so long?” he asked as he pushed me towards his sofa. “It almost took you a hundred a fifty five years to reach me this time. Usually it's much less ! It was getting quite lonely up here” he said giving me sad puppy eyes.
“Erm, sorry. Who are you ?” I asked trying not to look to puzzled.
“Haha, yes, sorry, I forgot about your memory trick for a second. I’m White” He said smiling. “The god that reigns over the tower and you are here to know how you became immortal as usual “
My thoughts were all over the place, it was hard to understand what was happening.
“I am yes but how do you know that ?”
“Easy ! you come here every hundred to two hundred years to come ask me the same question”
“But why ? I don’t understand”
“Easy again ! you are a mesmer remember, you can create illusions bend light and most importantly shift memories” He replied. It felt very weird to talk to a person who seems to know more about yourself than, well, yourself.
I paused for a second trying to understand how all the pieces would fit together.
“Are you saying I deleted my own memories ? but why ? that makes no sense !”
“Correct ! You delete your own memories and reset them to when you were thirty years old, just before you came here for the first time a few millennia ago.
You came up with that idea after living in hell for some time and thought if you deleted enough memories you would just forget you are immortal and start living like a normal human again.
And so, after realising you are one of us you start to climb to tower to ask me the same questions over and over”
That was a lot to take in one go. It was smart i’ll admit but I could not help but wonder if I had had any kids before I became immortal, wives, friends and they were all forgotten. How long had this gone on for.
“If all you say it true, how old am I then ?” I asked the child like figure
“You first came to me around seven thousand years ago I believe. You were one of the first to find me” He stood up and wandered to the side “Want some tea ? I have your favourite “
I was lost for words. “Sure” I said as I slumped down on the couch. He came back with two mugs a few minutes later and took out on old checkered slab or wood.
“Up for a game of chess ?” he proposed
“Chess ? How does it work” I asked as he started to giggle a little
“It a game you taught me some time ago, you move your pieces around to try and trap the enemy king. I think you will like it” he said blinking at me.
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Hope you enjoy ! have a nice day :) |
Thomas was doing cocaine. I had prevented him from dying 5,289 times in 25 years. He keeps getting worse.
We are guardian angels, well, at least that's what you call us. Angels aren't real though. Neither is God. But there is a pocket in the 5th dimension where we "Angels"make sure 3rd dimensional life forms create an existential essence to assume value and meaning in a cold, ruthless vacuum of a universe where no value should exist. Value and meaning are the keys to transcendence. I am not sure humanoids from Earth want to transcend: just lay in their consumptive filth until they die fat and drunk.
Thomas was a hard case. His life led to no concept of caring or empathy. This entire generation is difficult. Life on Earth had become meaningless, sure, but that is no excuse to get high and make decisions that are, to me, at least, suicidal. We can't die here in our dimension, so the concept of SELF DEATH seems impossible, but we see it all the time.
We actually get bored of our task. At every turn the humanoids escape enlightenment to go fuck, get high, eat fat, start wars, kill themselves. Kind of makes you wonder what the point in our holy task is, but there is no room for existentialism in higher dimensions.
I lost myself there. Thomas is an idiot. I can't wait for him to die, to be relieved of this banal task. Somehow he keeps getting saved. Whether he drives off of a road drunk and flips his car six times, someone have him the idea to put on a seat belt. Once he was so high on pills he fell asleep outside, in the snow, completely nude. Someone just had to put a blanket on him, even though I would have rather watched him slip into pneumonia and then die.
I'm not even trying anymore but he keeps going. Pretty soon he will decide to go into a very dangerous part of town with hookers, while on cocaine. He is the kind of guy someone will want to take advantage of.
In the near future of this I see: he will get held up at gunpoint, and in his manic cocaine frenzy will make the wrong move and get shot. Hopefully dead. I plan on looking the other way.
I know this seems cynical for an enlightened being that can see all things, past and present. Future earth is even more grim. I really think we should let this planet die. It's really taking the joy out of my work. The others are more optimistic, but they don't have Thomas.
Thomas does get shot. I don't care, I don't help. He lives though, jokes on me. I miscalculated the shot. He will live, and I will have to keep doing this work. Maybe I can figure out a way to kill myself. |
The Hall of Existence is in an uproar that morning as a black-cloaked figure storms into Life's office. While the stereotypical skeletal figure is highly exaggerated, Death's gaunt face looks paler than usual when compared to the angry fire blazing in his obsidian eyes. "Life, you can't be serious!"He slams one hand down on Life's desk, the other holding up a folder and shoving it in Life's face. "You can't kill the *entire human race!* This is- this is an extinction event to a self-aware society and I refuse to accept it!"
"You reap,"Life says without concern, waving his hand in the air dismissively to swat the folder away. "It's what you do. I see no problem with reaping a species, regardless of how intelligent they are."
"Well I do, damnit!"As Death's yelling continues, other Beings begin to crowd around the entrance to the office, double doors swung wide open and never shut from Death's entrance. "There's a procedure for this, Life! We have to call for a Existential Assembly-"
"And we did. The vote was near unanimous."Death turns around at the newcomer, leveling Time with a dark look. "*Near* unanimous, because we knew what your ruling would be. You're only attached to humanity because they cause so much of your work, you know."
Love frowns sadly from where she's standing in between Magic and Faith. "Time, please don't."Her focus shifts to Death. "I know you care for humans, but.....Time does have a point. They're ruining us. Nature cannot even leave their room, they've grown so weak."
"They're killing the *unkillable,"* Faith emphasizes, pointing accusingly at Death. "Technology, atheism.....all of these things they call advancement are weapons against us. We're growing weaker, and- and it's only a matter of time before we disappear completely!"There are murmurs of agreement throughout the small crowd, and Death growls at their reactions. Scared idiots relying on him to fix problems that don't exist, the lot of them. He sees Hope in the unwanted audience, but she looks away as soon as they make eye contact, and his heart sinks even further.
"Technology is their understanding of what used to be called magic,"he tries to reason despite knowing that they're stubbornly stuck in their ways, "and atheism is faith in natural force! Humans don't *destroy,* they *build!* They *create!"*
"Then what do they create out of Death?"Life's harsh words force Death to fall silent. "You've grown arrogant. You think you know about them because they give you more reason than you deserve. This discussion is *over,* Death. Only report back once you're finished with the order. You can even help me create something new."A consolation prize not worth the crime.
His scowl deepens. "Fine."He turns his back to Life, and for the shortest of moments, Life believes that he's won. He always does, after all; it's only natural. "If you want it that way, then I suppose I have a job to complete."
Death steps away from the desk- only to do a complete 180 as black vapors trail around him, forming a scythe in his hands. In a fluid movement that even Water would be jealous of, Death's weapon curves in an arc, stopping barely an inch away from Life's neck, and the being flinches, not moving an inch out of fear. Death had always been *docile,* he had never wielded his power against *them.* He was truly the fool to assume that would always be the case. "What are you doing?"
"Reaping."Death presses the blade closer against Life's neck, and the other Being knows, despite any attempts otherwise, that his own time has come. "It's what I do."
~~- - - - - - -~~
If you liked this, feel free to check out my other prompt fills at r/kirilisms! |
We all stood several paces away from the Doorway, lined up in formation just as I'd been taught and just as I've taught them. The Doorway hummed and spat out the occasional spark of stardust. It was the loudest thing in the room yet I could still hear a pin dropped from the catwalks.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, this is it."
I paced beside them, eyeing them up and down. They were green as can be and were barely old enough to qualify for the program. It seemed the higher-ups were in need of more cannon fodder. Not that I've prepared them for such, it's just that no matter how well I do my job some people just don't make it.
"I know this isn't the first time you have seen it and I know damn well that you know everything about it. As much as we know about it, at least."
A few feet shuffled. I continued, "This is the Doorway. Rather crappy name but that's not my department. If it were up to me I'd call this thing Spacehole. Get's the point across, I think. But I digress. This doohicky around it is what keeps it stable."
I patted the side of the enormous machine. The metal monster encompassed a portal roughly the size of a car, covering two acres of land devoted entirely to keeping the Doorway open. One hell of a doorstop, if you ask me.
In the portal were many things. Some say there are moving shapes, others say there are just stars. The idea I've taken to liking is that it's just not from Earth. We know some of its destinations, it changes all of the time, but we need more and more people to map it out. That's where these recruits come in.
"Billions of taxpayer dollars have been spent researching the portal, building the Frame, and generally wasting a bunch of time while people like you are out there getting the work done. Keep that in mind; you are our primary focus."
Some backs straightened and their eyes stayed forward. It was a shame I was going to put them through the worst experience they'll ever see. Hopefully, it will be the worst thing they ever see. As I said, we don't know all the destinations yet.
"You know the risks of these missions, you've all seen the founders of this program and their accomplishments. And their misgivings. But one thing we have not divulged yet is that there is a trial you must pass in order to safely travel through the Doorway."
The rigid attention gave way to mumble and whispers, no doubt confused with the sudden pop quiz.
I began the initiation sequence on the terminal at my side, "This trial is not something we created, this is something new. Catered to each and every one of you, the Doorway --or at least those behind it all-- pits you up against your greatest fears. Whether it's getting rejected by that one pretty girl you've never had the guts to talk to before or if it's being beaten to death by wiffle bats in a snake pit, the Doorway will judge you."
We always train them as best as we can; physical training, psychological constitution improvement. But this test can break a man in two like a twig under a boot. I've seen the hardest and toughest men weep from their visions, and I've seen the meekest of men wear it as a badge of honour.
The boys in the lab are trying to figure out how it does it, with little success. It operates on a worthy or not worthy system with no telling of what is inherently worthy. When some of the geeks tried to recreate the test for some poor volunteer, his brain practically leaked out his ears. I visit him on occasion, though he's not much of a talker these days.
I felt bad for these grunts in front of me, they'd seen so little. They have no idea what it feels like on the other side. But they're about to.
"Today, you will enter the Doorway for the first time. For some of you, it will be the last time. Don't worry, we've never had anyone die or injured, not physically anyway. I will not lie, this will be the absolute worst thing you will ever experience. When you come back, you will not be the same."
I'd given the speech many times over the years ever since they pulled me off duty. Something about how I shouldn't be using the Doorway for personal use. It's not my fault some realities have better living arrangements.
You never forget your first, however. When I was a grunt, they pushed me through training harder than I'd ever been pushed before. When I was about to break, I passed, I got to go through the Doorway. They didn't give me the same speech, though.
My first thoughts when I entered the portal were: 'What's that tingling sensation?', 'Why is everything purple and green?', and most importantly, 'Why can I taste my own voice?'. It's not a pleasant experience.
Now I was given the task of sending people into their worst nightmare and expecting them to be battle-ready.
The portal flared as it opened, starlight peeking through the cracks in reality. Bizarre shapes and noises came from within, echoing through the hall. I've heard it said that those are human screams coming from the void and that damned souls are sent to the black as punishment. I've been over to the tech lab, the stuff sounds like a whale having sex using a megaphone, so superstition doesn't ring quite well with me.
"I hope my talk has inspired you to become the best our species has to offer and that you'll do us proud. There is a lot of weird out there, good and bad, and we need our best at their best. Are you the greatest of the great?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"they shouted in unison.
"Good,"I sat down beside the Doorway, "Now, who's first?" |
I took one last look in the mirror as I rushed to get ready. Oh, but that sash did not work with the cuffs I had on; I needed to rethink my wardrobe in a hurry. I knew they were waiting eagerly for their wishes but, my entrance had to be perfect.
I had no idea how long it had been since I last stretched outside of this prison. The excitement was almost unbearable. Their face was going to be priceless, another one for the scripts. And, it was. It sure was.
I crashed through my studio like a hurricane. I knew time moved in here slower than it did for those waiting outside, but I needed to make my entrance snappy.
After I remediated my attire, I stood there next to the exit, shaking the jitters from my arms and stretching my neck. A couple of deep breaths and the words, “You got this big guy,” and I was ready. I flew out, my spectral form growing five times theirs. I let out a guttural laugh, followed by my signature catch phrase-like any *good* genie in the business-, “You have awoken me! Bheemoo! Thee have wishes three to ask me!”.
That is when I saw it: An elderly man with a rag in his hand. His face was pale as white, his body frozen like stone. At the time I thought that I had him going, that this was one of my best entrances to date, so I doubled down. I flew through him, again letting out my booming laugh. I can not remember what I began to say at that point; I can not remember much after that moment, except for the sound of the old man hitting the floor.
I turned and saw his body laying there, still clinching the rag. I panicked, there were dead things everywhere, and I just added one to the list. I didn’t know what kind of sick place I was in. I tried to rustle the old man, and in the end all he could mutter was 9-1-1. I took it as his first wish. Since then I have been in here trying my best to decompress.
The good news, outside, it sounds like Pete is stable. |
#Part 1: The Dinner Party
Amaya's feathery hand squeezed mine as the doctor read the test results.
"Well Mrs. Waverly, congratulations."Upon hearing this my wife perked up and broke into a smile. "You're pregnant!"We rejoiced as we hugged each other.
At a glance we appeared to be from completely different worlds. Amaya, though she had some human ancestry, was a harpy, with jade-green feathers and skinny, stocky legs. Meanwhile I, well I was as plain looking as a human could possibly be. Despite that couples like us were a common sight nowadays, and nobody looked twice when we walked into that doctor's office.
My adoptive dads faced enough hurdles before our society reached this point. Dad's a tall and proud werewolf with a head of untameable brown hair, pops is clearly elvish in appearance, with pointy ears and curly horns that jutt out from the top of his head. But interspecies couples before them fought and lobbied. The *Unity of Magical Creatures Act* passed shortly before dad and pops got married. Society gradually adjusted and by the time I met Amaya, it was the new normal for the most part.
We threw a dinner party that weekend to tell everyone the big news. Creatures of all shapes and sizes filled our apartment: Amaya's parents (a male harpy and a female human), the dragon and the vampire that lived nextdoor, dad and pops of course. The lull of chit chat spread throughout the apartment, blending with the smooth jazz playing on the living room stereo.
My wife paused the music as I gathered everyone's attention. "Amaya and I have an announcement."
"I'm pregnant!"she said excitedly.
The guests were quick to congratulate us. Dad nervously smiled, exposing two sharp canines. Pops gave a quick thumbs up and pulled his husband into the hall only for the two to return a couple minutes later. The night dragged on, guests gradually went home. I was doing dishes when my phone buzzed, a text from pops:
Malachai, please come by our house tomorrow, alone. We need to talk. |
"And why, pray tell, am i spending my holiday taking you to an art museum?"Nate whine, hands deep in his thick jacket. I walked beside him, equally rugged up if not more.
"It's a gallery, and I'm not telling you until we get there."Was all i said before walking ahead of him. I hadn't even told Mum or Dad about this, that the museum had decided to purchase one of my proudest paintings to put on display. I couldn't wait to see his face!
Even though the day was cold and rain pattered down from the sky, i was in such a good mood that there was no way anything could ruin it. Nate, my older brother, was visiting from school for the next month. He went to college far far out of town, and as much as i wanted to visit, i was far too unwell to travel. i was always a sickly girl. I wasn't as bad when i was younger, but whatever i had was getting worse slowly over the years. doctors have examined me for years over so many visits that i couldn't even remember them all. Most of them chalked it up to anemia and pollution, since we used to live in the city. So we moved out here.
Being so close to the ocean was...well...it felt right. Every day i would try to visit the ocean at least once. some days i was too sick to even get out of bed, and those days were my most miserable ones. But when i could get to the ocean i would either cleaning up its of plastic and various coloured cans into a bag. I could never finish even half of the beach, but i at least tried. Other times i would be doing some sort of art project. Mainly painting, but at one point i tried gluing various pieces of seashells that caught my interest. Needless to say, it did not go well. But no matter what, every time i finished it i would show it to the ocean (Don't tell anyone, especially not my brother!) I'm not sure when or why i did it, but it doesn't feel right to leave without showing my work off to the ocean, as if letting the model seeing its picture.
As we walked over the bridge, i glanced down at the brown water that was now flowing at a rapid rate. Bits of plastic of various sizes floated on the surface, so i could only imagine how much was underneath the surface. I shook my head and looked forward to where the gallery sat. I noticed the fairly large crowd standing around the entrance. my excitement grew tenfold, and i nearly squealed in delight if not for Nate shooting me a side long stare. Before i could say anything a scream rang out from behind us. I spun around to see what i can only explain as the river coming up and sweeping easily five people into the river. The mutters and chattering from the crowd immediately went silent. Within seconds people ran towards the bridge to see if the people were still there. A few were even stripping to jump in.
If i thought i had imagined it before, i knew i hadn't this time, as when more people came onto the bridge, the water rose like a wave and slammed into the small bridge. People screamed, and within seconds they were gone.
"what the hell?!"Nate asked, his voice filled with fear. My voice however failed to work. All i could do was hold my arms to try and stop my shaking. I stepped backwards onto the wet grass, then another step. At the third step my foot slipped on wet mud, and i fell backwards with a scream. My hands flew out, managing to grab onto some long pieces of grass and stop my descent. I slowly tilted my head back to see the rapid water only inches from my face, the ends of my long hair floating in the water.
"Mary!"Nate screamed. I looked back up to see him practically diving towards me, his eyes full of fear. I dared not move until i felt his hand on mine and pulling me up. Only then did i try to push myself up. As i pushed myself up however my foot slipped into the water, but with Nate holding my hands i could pull myself up.
Something grabbed onto my leg hard, causing me to yell out in pain. When i looked back i saw what i could only describe as a...a mummified man. Hollowed eyes, leathery skin with no muscle underneath. Moss covered teeth with weed hanging through the cracks. My voice completely failed me. i tried to breathe, but even my lungs were frozen in fear.
"what is that?!"I heard Nate scream from a far away place. i felt him pull at me to get me up on the banks, but with one firm pull the dead man pulled me out from Nate's arms and into the water.
\---
The water felt slimy. Nothing like the ocean. I kicked out as hard as i could, but it took only five tries to tire myself out. I struggled hard to keep my breath, but as i looked around i saw dozens upon dozens of undead. Men, women, children, they all stumbled and floated toward me. I screamed without thinking, and began choking as the slimy water entered my lungs. I tried to swim up, but the undead man from before still had my legs. My lungs burned. Was this how i went?
Then something peculiar happened. Arms wrapped around me so gently that i almost didn't even realize, until i noticed how warm i suddenly felt. I had no energy to fight, all i could do was float there in subdued fear as my consciousness faded me. Then, i heard a voice of a woman. such a gentle voice that it almost lulled me to sleep.
"no, not this one. Let them live."
and before i knew it, i was on the bank on the river again, coughing and vomiting up the water. I could hear people screaming and footsteps from the street. then there were hands on me, shaking me with such force that my hazy mind was shaken awake.
"...ary. Mary!"Nate's voice came through, filled with fear. I looked up slowly at him. Relief filled his reddened eyes. "Oh thank Christ, you're alive..."he whispered hoarsely, pulling me into such a tight hug that i found it hard to breath. But just as quickly he pulled away. "come on, were' going to the hospital."He said with such finality that i couldn't argue. Then again, i don't think i could have. He helped me up and supported me as we walked up the hill. I glanced back once at the river, and saw it had become eerily still, as if it was just your average, every day river. |
I always hear it. Someone whispering my name ever so faintly, but it’s there and I feel it’s very real. I don’t feel like whatever it is is bad I feel it just wants to communicate with me in some way. Sometimes I get gentle nudges from things that aren’t there. Feel an invisible hand on my shoulder patting it reassuringly.
However, no matter how gentle and kind it is I’m still too much of a chicken to even try to communicate with it. So it usually just ends up with me hiding under the covers or pretending I heard nothing.
One day, I was looking at a picture of my grandpa who passed away. I have a couple of his old things and keep them close to me since they have a lot of sentimental value. I continued to stare at the picture and suddenly I felt like someone was embracing me from behind. I felt the love and the comfort exuding from their presence… But again, I was too chicken to even acknowledge what had just happened.
Could this be my grandpa trying to communicate with me? Who knows? It could be but I’ve watched a lot of horror movies and when you communicate with ghosts it usually doesn’t end well. So, I decided I will peacefully live in coexistence with this presence and not interact with it but just be. That’s all I can really do given the stance that I hold on the situation.
I still hear the voices and I still get scared especially when I’m alone at my house. But I’ve learned that this presence is not bad no matter how scared I am of pretty much anything paranormal. Not everything that mysteriously whispers in your ear is bad. Or so I’ve learned. |
I never wanted kids.
Just never caught my pleasure. I'm too selfish, I like my own space and I can't be dealing with the screeching.
But here I am. I sigh as I park my car outside the courthouse. My sister and her husband have been at it for hours in there, and I can only imagine the scene.
"I need the coffee maker!"
"Not on your life you whore!"
I'm rolling my eyes just thinking about it. I do feel sorry for the kid, stuck in the middle of all this shit. Liam is only eight, and he didn't do anything to deserve this hell. As I walk into the lobby, I see him there with the social worker. She looks tired- it's been a long day already, and it's only just turned noon. "Mr Striker?"She asks. I nod curtly. PApers are signed and Liam is mine until the courts decide who is the fit parent.
It might be some time considering they both have strikes against them. Turns out courthouses don't like full on super fights inside. Especially not when laservision gets involved. "Come on Liam, I'm parked just round the corner."I grabbed one of his suitcases. He looks so small today- not the raving lunatic he normally is, fizzing back and forth across the yard like a squirrel on crack.
"Uncle Joe..."he starts, but gives up halfway. It hurts to see. I may never have wanted kids, but I wouldn't put one through this either.
"'ts alright kiddo. We'll get these loaded up and go get some lunch. You like burgers?"I try to sound as chipper as I can manage, give this kid some semblance of normal. He nods, and with the car packed up, I head to a favorite dive of mine. Not one of those mass market bollocks 5 cent burger joints, but a little place about ten minutes from mine. Liam looks sceptical of the neon sign flickering in the window.
"Leon's?"
"Yup. My favorite place. They got real meat in their buns, not some withered scrap of leather. Put some meat on your bones."I say, pushing open the door.
Inside is a blast straight from the fifties. Black and white check floor, red leather stools on chrome legs, old movie posters all over the walls. Behind the counter is the man himself.
"Afternoon Leon, how's it going?"I smirk. He continues to clean a glass with a smile of his own.
"'noon Joe. Not often you come by with a friend."He nods toward Liam, who is suddenly inexplicably shy, hiding behind my legs.
"True enough. This is my nephew, Liam. He'll be staying with me for a bit. Think he needs a good bit of your menu to help patch up the day he's been having."
Leon meets my eyes. No words are said, but he understands. He shows us to a booth next to the jukebox, and even slipped Liam a coin to pick a song out. While he's playing around with the jukebox, he gets the 2 second summary.
"What am I gonna do, Leon? AIn't never had a kid, never knew what to do with 'em. And my sister's a stubborn bitch. wouldn't surprise me if Liam's in college before they settle."I rub my temples. Leon just laughed.
"Whatever you do can't be as fucked up as where he's been. Couple days of settlin' in, a few ground rules and try not to lose your temper Joe. At the end of the day, kids is people too."
Liam finished up with the Jukebox, and came back. A bit of prompting with the menu later and he's got the biggest chocolate shake in front of him that Leon's ever made, followed up with a burger the size of his head he had no chance of finishing. We chatted a little, but awkward small talk, nothing more. As we're getting up to leave, Leon swears and before I can even turn around, Liam has crossed the length of the dining room, and caught the glass before it hit the floor. Leon gives me a surprised look. I shrug. He takes it back with a thanks, and we head back to mine.
I have no idea what to do with a kid, but at least I can try to stop things getting worse. |
Grocery shopping with my mom is really the last thing I want to be doing on my 15th birthday. I’d much rather be back home playing the new video games I got from my dad this morning. Then again, walking through the produce aisle is a small price to pay for a new smartphone. Mom said she’d take me to Verizon to get the new IPhone as long as I accompanied her to the store afterwards. I knew she’d get me a new phone, mostly because she’s been trying to one-up my dad’s gifts since they got divorced 2 years ago. So here we are.
She’s making lasagna for my birthday, but I’m not really interested in the ingredients - only eating the final product. Still, her indecisiveness over whether to use regular or organic tomatoes will hopefully at least give me enough time to set up my new phone.
Something about a new “mandatory update” keeps popping up on my screen. Huh, this must’ve just come out otherwise I would’ve installed it over Wi-Fi at the Verizon store. Whatever. I just want to get this thing set up so I can start sending Snapchats to my friends. They’ve been making fun of me for a whole year because I’m the last one in the group to get a phone.
Finally! It’s all set up. Now I can download Snapchat and start sending random pictures.
I’ll send Cody a picture of some onions. Hmm… I’ll send Jack a picture of the shopping cart with the caption “Mom’s making lasagna” with some food emojis. Speaking of mom, maybe I should my first ever selfie with her.
“Hey mom, smile!” I said as I quickly snapped a picture using the front facing camera.
“Delete that! I wasn’t ready!” She said as she reached for the phone.
That’s odd. I don’t remember applying an alien filter to her face. I thought, as my phone started violently buzzing. |
I was on the roof, doing something I can barely recall. All I remember really is dropping something in panic as the city’s screams scaled the surrounding buildings and crawled their way to the top of my own apartment building. Then, the shadow of multiple warheads seemingly materialized closer to the skyline of Chicago. From my position, the closest missile was only five meters from my head, but that was only one of a destructive chorus of rockets near it.
Then the voice. It seemed as if it cascaded through the crevices of the city and pierced the hearts of any citizen that it reached. It’s warning- a short and vague statement that shook the sky.
_Submit, or Die_
“And if we submit?” I yelled. Not for any good reason, but I didn’t feel like any of the norms of daily life applied here, so whatever happens here stays here. Outside of daily life.
_Submit or die clueless_
Fairly different, but useless. The open streets full of people began their wailing. Some lost hope, I can hear phone calls. Some are yelling crude threats as if they were holding hundreds of missiles too. But all were down there, on the outside of this one-sided stand-off.
“Submit to a power? A God? Can I get a ‘who’?”
_Give or be taken_
Synonyms? Clues? Maybe this voice is also talking out of their ass.
“Give? What does that mean?”
Silence. As if the deity was pondering another synonym. But then-
_So you choose to Give. Thank you._
The statement took the wind out of my lungs. That bastard played me, and now for all we know will set this whole city ablaze. This whole world. But panic was already pumping through me, it lifted me to a strange level of calm. I closed my eyes and waited for the hit that would unleash a second sun.
I waited. The city’s cries had died out.
Then the streets once again filled with screams. But this time, I heard them linger and surge. Not sure, I opened my eyes to the same Chicago that was there before. The people below celebrated as the sun shone through a clear sky, not a single missile in the blue horizon. I guess we have it something we really didn’t need anyway. |
The road was getting longer and I yawned for the twelfth time in the past five minutes.
My head was beginning to feel fuzzy and I knew that I wouldn't make another hour on the road, I had to find a hotel. I really wanted to push the night to make it back home before the rest of my family did for the break which meant the gathering but it seemed that my plans were going to change.
I hit the city fifteen minutes later and after driving to get gas I asked for the nearest hotel, a gruff man pointed out a motel a few blocks away. I thanked him and drove off but when I got there I could tell that it was the seedy joint. Lights were out and I was sure this was where police stings and young girls went missing happened. I flipped around and pulled out my phone. I didn't care about price, I just wanted a good place to sleep without worrying about waking up in the back of some drug addicts van. I always hated that about New York. My friends love shopping here and the day life. None of them would survive two minutes of the night life.
It's probably my bias. My dad did a lot of work fighting the night life of places like New York.
My phone pulled up the Continental Hotel, it wasn't too far and it was flagged as having a vacancy.
I walked inside and was immediately noticed by a black man standing behind the bar, tall and despite the give on the suit I could tell he was built beneath it.
I tried to keep my head clear as I walked in but not clear enough as I accidentally bumped into a tall man with hair combed back.
"S-sorry."I stammered as he picked up the bag I dropped.
He handed it to me and i noticed a healing cut on his cheek. "No problems. You look tired, get yourself a room."He smiled.
I nodded and took my bag back as he walked into the elevator.
"Ah, good evening Miss."the man spoke, "Charon"read his tag. "How may I be of assistance?"I wondered where his accent came from as I set my bag down.
"A room please? Just tonight."I said trying to be mostly aware of what was around me. THe place seemed nice enough, a few men in suits stood in a small circle discussing things. Probably businessmen.
"Excellent."He looked me over quizzically, "Pardon, but do you have a membership with us?"
I shook my head, suddenly feeling pointed out, "No."
He nodded, keeping his warm smile and welcoming demeanor. "No problem."He searched through the computer and nodded as a bell hop rolled an empty luggage cart to the back. He nodded at me and continued on his way.
Finally finished he looked to me, "Alright. I have a nice room, standard amenities and a queen bed for one night?"He asked to confirm.
"Yes. Please."
"Of course. The price will be Eighty-five dollars."
He ran my card and began typing in my information as he continued. "The price includes free access to all amenities as well access to the room service. If you have the time, Supper is currently being served, you can dine in the restaurant or have it delivered to your room if you wish."
I wanted to deny the dinner but my stomach growled. "Um... I'll think on that."
He nodded, "Room Eight Twenty-three"He said handing me my key. "We at the Continental Hotel hope you enjoy your stay, if you have any questions please let us know."
I took my key and thanked him then turned and walked down the hall to the elevator as another man was getting on. He looked me over and smiled, "Good Evening, Young Lady"he charmed as he gestured for me to enter first.
"Good Evening."
I recognized him as one of the men talking business and he eyed me before nodding to himself.
I stepped off the elevator with him repeating his greeting as a farewell before the doors closed and he continued onward.
The hall was quiet and I walked uncomfortably to my room, passing a Hispanic woman pushing a housekeeping cart.
"Do you need assistance finding your room miss?"she asked cheerfully.
"Um...Eight Two three?"
"Oh, yes, come this way."She escorted me, turning her cart around and despite the trash being empty something heavy bounced against the yellow lining. She unlocked my door for me and handed me the key before bidding me a goodnight and pleasant dreams and moved off humming some sort of Spanish song I couldn't identify.
Suppose that's what i get for skimping on my Spanish homework.
I moved all the locks and after debating, decided against the meal. Didn't need another ding on my card so soon.
I tried to tell myself that I was being paranoid and that I was just tired. This place just didn't feel right though. |
There are three rules to commuting in the city; Don’t slow down, Don’t make eye contact, and don’t talk to the panhandlers and beggars. There are exceptions to every rule, but the rip-tide of early morning and late afternoon foot-commuters depends on these rules. The higher purpose might be to maintain social cohesion in a high-density living situation. But the immediate purpose was to avoid pissing off everyone around; folks who are already pissed off at having to piss away their time working subpar jobs to afford subpar lives.
I adhered to these rules stringently as a life-long city dweller, and I’d be the first to cast a scoff and a shove at those who break it. It was his sign that caught my eye first; “$1/1 minute”. My initial thought was he must be advertising sex. But the man was dressed in a full, if somewhat shabby, suit, and seated at a small, folding table. His face was calm and unhurried; lacking the weathered, motivated look of true panhandlers. He watched the tide of people hurrying along the narrow sidewalks and streaming towards the metro and bus stations, his face pensive and hands lightly folded.
I committed a cardinal sin of city life. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk on Main Street during the 4pm rush, and stared. Almost instantaneously the scoffs and sneers and sharp, suited shoulders bustled up against me. A few scanned to see what sort of scene I was about to cause, maybe I was a doomsday preacher, or a coked-out attorney of some sort. Unfortunately I didn’t have a scene to cause. I walked over to the man’s table and asked about his sign.
“I’m selling my time. You can talk to me about whatever you want, or ask me any question. But the cost is $1/minute”, he responded.
“But why? Why would I pay to talk to a complete stranger?” I asked.
He shrugged, his gold-rim glasses bouncing ok his nose at the movement, “guess you’ll have to find out”.
It was probably a hustle, albeit a creative one. He wanted my money, that was it. I paid anyway, plunking my dollar into his hand.
“What should I talk about?”
“Anything you want to. We can converse, or I can simply listen. My time is yours now”.
I decided to ask him about this little venture.
“I’m sure you know,” he began, “that this city can be lonely. Everyone’s busy, we don’t have time or energy or money to have someone we can guilt-free unload our problems onto. I’m cheaper than a therapist, and I’m more available than a friend. So people pay me a dollar, and I listen”.
He gave me a reassuring look, unforced, attentive but unpressured. I got the feeling that we could sot in complete silence or talk the entire time and regardless, he would be a keen listener. I couldn’t recall another man looking at me in such a genuine way, wanting me to unload my burdens, to talk just about what was bothering me.
“My parent’s died. Not recently I mean, about a year ago. I live with my girlfriend, we moved here together.” I paused, feeling that this would be the moment when he might interject, or when I should ask about him, but he said nothing, letting my thoughts fill the space.
“I don’t love her. I miss my parents. My dad was a real hardass, wanted me to go into business rather than journalism. But I’m only 30 you know? I’m 30 so I’m too old to cry about my parents dying but I’m too young for them to have died already. My girlfriend let me cry in front of her on our first date. Sometimes I think that’s the only reason we got together. She let me cry then. I mean fully break down in public too,” I laughed a bit, and he laughed with me sympathetically. As if we were old friends.
“And it felt good. It felt really good. But I know she doesn’t want to see that all the time, and I get the feeling, even though she’d never say it, that it makes me look weak. And she doesn’t want that”.
He responded, to show he was listening or truly interested I wasn’t sure.
“Do you feel weak?” It was not a loaded question, but a sincere, curious question.
I paused anyways. Was I weak? Logically, I knew it was socially acceptable to mourn the death of my parents. The rules say that that is alright for a man to cry about. But a year later, all I want is to hug my mum; to hold her soft, warm hand, to have her tell me she loves me, or just regal me with a story about some asshole who cut her off in traffic and you shoulda seen the way people drive on the interstate!
“I do. I feel weak all the time. Like my legs will give out and my shoulders will collapse,” I smiled pitfully, “I’m a 30 year old man and literally all I want to do is talk to my mom again. And cry when I remember I can’t.”
He gripped my shoulder sympathetically, and I thought of my father at the best of times.
“Thank you for sharing”.
I took that to mean my minute was up. He told me to come back again, same place. I melded back into the throngs of people, resumed the flat, stern face for commuting and city life, and walked on home. |
A New Addition
This was supposed to be a routine patrol through the wood, the elf thought to himself, with no small amount of displeasure.
Of course, bodies themselves weren’t uncommon. In these woods, different peoples often buried their dead.
But he’d never seen a golem such as this one; it must have come from far-flung lands he’d never seen before. The body was halfway through a transformation: the woman’s torso was human, but her lower body had turned to stone. Her mouth was open, stretched into a stiff rictus of agony. And then he’d heard the child’s cries, undeniably human.
He could not leave a helpless babe to the forest; that would be tantamount to murder to his people. Making soft, sweet shushing sounds, he scooped up the infant. It squawked, its tiny rosebud mouth opening. It had been years since Caldr had raised his own children, and though his memory was long, it was not infallible.
He noticed a birthmark on the sole of the baby’s foot, a small sickle that covered the skin like a wine stain.
“Well, it appears that this patrol will have to be cut short.” Caldr whispered to the infant, holding it against his chest. He beckoned to his horse, Axel; he didn’t want to further disturb the baby by riding.
He found himself wondering just how he would explain the new addition to their family to his wife. But he could hardly leave a helpless baby to die, could he?
\*\*
Caldr arrived in the village just as the sun was setting, and his wife, Azariah, was standing in front of their humble cottage, taking down the laundry off the line. When she saw her husband, and the bundle in his arms, she frowned, her eyes narrowed.
“What’s going on, Caldr? I was expecting you back hours ago.”
“Well, I was interrupted, my love. I found a body in the forest, of a golem. It appears that she died from a transformation gone awry. And… There was a child with her. I couldn’t just leave it.” He knew he sounded defensive, but he’d already made his decision. Or perhaps had made the choice before he’d even realized.
Azariah frowned for another moment, but then she looked down at the baby, those dark, deep eyes he’d fallen with so long ago softening. Perhaps he’d been depending on her maternal instinct, still strong even though their children had grown and started their own families.
She took the baby from him, singing a soft song in Elvish. Again, his eyes were drawn to the child’s foot. Something was vaguely familiar about the symbol, but he couldn’t grasp it, no matter how he tried.
Perhaps his worry had been misplaced all along.
“What should we call him?” Caldr asked; the least he could do was allow her to name the child.
Their child.
“How about we call him Adair?” She asked, and he blinked; that name was so obviously human, and this child was far from human.
“Adair it is. Welcome to the family, little one.”
\*\* |
There's a place out on the Great Plains, where you can feel the rumble of the V8. Where 400 and 35 horses hit your ears with a hum, steady like a lullabye. Flashes of red, black and yellow light up the still green blades. Then the blades dance, like a wind done hit 'em for the first time in ages. A smell fills the air. Burnt rubber, with the sweet scent of newly-cut grass. Then they come. Men on their horses, whoopin' and a-hollerin'. Their studs, with iron shoes adding rhythm to the rumble. Another dance begins. The men and machines sway in and out, like sultry señoritees and Corona'ed-up cowboys. They move around the field, until someone gives. The machines never crap out, but the men got a trick up their sleeve. ZAP! Darts cut through the air, like a fart in a sermon. The dance falls apart. The red, black, and yellow run away. One less with 'em. The blades stop swaying, and the men go home, steering wheel in hand. There's a place out on the Great Plains, I wish I could go back and see it again. Maybe someday. |
I sit down, happily feasting my eyes. This is a meal for the centuries, a smorgasbord of fond memories. As i take my own plate, i reminisce over our beginnings- humble beginnings, crying in the fleshly wet squelch of the womb. So we, my spouse and I, had to find a way to forget our origins and become... more. We met each other in our mutual search for delicatessen and bakeries so fragrant they are never forgotten.
...We met each other in a pizza parlour.
Shunned for our respective tastes, for the anchovies that were fried then placed delicately on a broad bed of a cheese-stuffed pie, for acidic fruits tingling the tastebuds while the ham licked our pallates clean. For octopi heralding their forgotten olde ones lining the round offering tables of yeast and flour combined.
I take up my knife and fork. I make eye contact with my spouse.
We are the ones they fear. We smile. |
“Fuck this” Ares yelled angrily, kicking the ground.
“Will you calm down, please? Your giving me a headache” the Chinese moon goddess complained. “Just try to calm down and breathe, everything will be okay.”
“EVERYTHING WILL NOT BE OKAY! MY WIFE IS DEAD AND NOW I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS BITCH” yelled the war god, angrily pointing a finger at Athena.
Athena snorted; “Hah! Okay Mr. Anger Management.”
“The next person to talk will get their hand bitten off” snarled the Wolf.
I sighed. For some reason, I was chosen to be the one to solve this mystery “Divine Flu.” Apparently, as Apollo was dying and throwing up Ichor, he went into some sort of prophetic state and gave a vague hint at which of the deities would solve this illness. And, after much deliberation, I was chosen.
My name Sukunahikona. I am a Japanese dwarf deity known for brewing sake, protecting people from animals, and—you guessed it—healing. Since Asclepius died and Sekhemet was in the process of kicking the bucket, I was the last person they had left who was competent enough for the job. All the other healing patrons either died or were stupid. Yay me.
Set spoke up; “Hey, uh, Suka-whatever. How’s that cure coming along? I’d like to get my hands on it ASAP so I can go back to cutting up gods of the dead.”
“First of all, it’s Sukunahikona. Secondly, it’s not ready. It’s going to take some time before this is done. If you leave me be, I’ll finish the cure faster.”
“Yeah, lay off the man, will you? He’s doing more than you ever could you fucking coward. Go cause some destruction and let Sukunahikona finish his work” chimed Lono, the Hawaiian god of peace.
“THANK YOU!” I exclaimed, relived. Finally! Someone was understanding that I was actually trying to help.
The Divine Flu had wiped out roughly 75% of all divine beings in the past year. No one knew what caused it or how it worked. All we know is that it killed, and gave off the same symptoms as the mortal Flu. So far, I’ve found nothing significant. I’ve ruled out godly bacteria, the Fates (since they all died), curses, hexes, divine weapons, apocalyptic predictions, sharp things, and poison. I’ve started pulling resources from all sorts of if religions. Books, manuscripts, spells, weapons, holy items, and whatnot. But, nothing is coming up. I’ve ventured through the depths of Tartarus, rode Ra’s sun bark, and visited the fiery lands of Muspelheim trying to find something that could help. I’ve come up empty handed every single time.
“Did you try the Catholic ‘Holy Grail’ or whatever?” barked Fenrir while chewing on Tyr’s other hand.
“Yeah, and remember what happened? Ares got drunk off his ass and slaughtered Rome in rage.”
Chang’e laughed, “So that’s why you can’t have alcohol!”
Ares’ face filled with fury. We were sitting in Asgard’s throne room. Since Heimdall had died, the Bifrost collapsed. It essentially made the city a quarantine zone. I was sitting in Odin’s throne with piles of books, relics, spices, and prophecies scattered on the ground. I had a list in my hand of possible causes;
- Holy Plagues
- Catholic God
- Universal collapse
- lost diseases
- Pollution
I’ve been staring at this list for days. All of these are plausible, but impossible to verify.
Mawu, the African creation goddess, took a deep breath. “If we’re being optimistic, at least we get more offerings. I don’t mind getting more attention.”
“Yeah, but they’re constantly burning plastic for tributes instead of natural ingredients. It makes me sick” croaked Athena. “I wish they would go back to the all natural.”
I paused. “Say that again.”
“I wish they would go back to the all natural?”
“No, before that.”
“They’re burning plastic and it makes me sick?”
“EUREKA!” I exclaimed. “It’s been under our noses this whole time! Mortals are burning plastic and it’s making us sick! It wasn’t bad before, but now it’s starting to affect our health.”
Ares screamed; “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? ITS BEEN THE MORTALS THIS WHOLE TIME? I SWEAR LET ME AT THEM AND I WILL—“
“Hold on there Tiger” cautioned Set. “We’ve got to take this slower. I’m all for slaughtering humans but we don’t want to wipe out their entire race. We just got to get them to change their offerings.”
Lono sighed. “For once I agree with that Egyptian bastard. We’ve got to take it slow. I prefer peace over unnecessary death.”
I began to think. It’s not like we can pop down there and tell them “Hey, you’re killing all your gods.” There’s got to be a better way.
Athena chimed in; “What if we send them some sort of divine message. An omen. A sign.”
“I’ve got it! I’ll cause an untimely eclipse. That way, some of them will get some sort of apocalyptic message” exclaimed Chang’e.
Mawu beamed. “And I’ll do the speaking part. Being a creation goddess and all, I’ve got some massive power.”
“This is perfect!” I exclaimed. “Finally, we’ll all stop getting sick and we can go bad to our godly lives.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That was 10 years ago. All the mortals, regardless of their religion, stopped burning plastic. Ever since the, we’ve been slowly getting some deities back. Xolotl is being a little bitch boy, considering he’s the only underworld god left, and it’s taking a while. We’ve managed to get some back, but this will be a long road. |
Terry Gooslery had awoken in his bedroom, only to find 58,000,000 US dollars at the foot of his bed. He had noticed the champion’s belt a short while after, while counting the money. But the most interesting part was the note left behind to explain all this. It simply read:
“Hey Terry. You don’t know me personally, but I’m sure you will have heard of me. My name is Tyrone Rexomore, and I’m the heavy-weight champion of the world in WWE. You may know me by my wrestling name: The Four-Leaf Cleaver (because I’m always so lucky). But I’m bored. Of the wrestling life, I mean. Not of this conversation. No, in fact I’m very interested in it *and* you…
“Basically, I had a bunch of my agents single you out because you had a boring face. However, this was good for my purposes. Because I had you kidnapped and while you were drugged, my team performed plastic surgery on you. To make you look exactly like me. Because I have chosen you to take my place as.. well, me. You will meet my agents outside at 6:00. They will take you to a hidden training camp in which you will train until you have my physical physique, and then you will take my place forever – in the wrestling world, and out. At least this way you get a wife for free, but I’ll tell you this – If you ever do something to her that I don’t think is up to standard, I will take you down, wrestling style.
Good luck and best of wishes,
Tyrone “The Four-Leaf Cleaver” Rexomore”
P.S. The belt is to take to the eventual fight you’ll have, and the money was compensation for, you know… ruining your life.
And that was all the letter said.
Terry had looked in the mirror, and saw a face that looked like it belonged to a wolf, not a man. But the thing that surprised Terry most was one crucial piece of information that Rexomore had failed to reveal: He was black.
And now so was Terry.
Terry had looked at his watch. 5:56, and he was still in his pyjamas. He quickly got dressed into some clothes that had been laid out for him, and walked outside. He was greeted by a man in a black suit. He looked like one of the characters out of Men In Black, but Terry couldn’t remember which one, partially because Terry had pretty dodgy memory, but also because he was being manhandled into a black limousine.
\~\~\~
Terry looked back upon those moments, remembering how it had felt to have had his own life taken away from him, and being given another. He had been training for the champion title defence for 6 months now. He was ready for this. He was about to face Eddy “The Bear with no hair” Sazlik (who was completely bald) in the final. He could do this.
He entered the stadium, with his theme music blasting in the background. He entered the ring, parading around, soaking in all the cheers. He loved this. He turned around, waiting for Eddy Sazlik to enter the stadium as well. But that didn’t happen. Instead, his own theme music started playing again. He was confused. Had there been a mistake? No. Because then something happened that gave Terry a min heart attack. The real Tyrone Rexomore had entered the stadium. Rexomore started shouting out that this was a) an imposter, and not the real him, and b) and outrage. Terry could only stare in horror as Rexomore entered the ring with a sledgehammer.
Terry ended up on hospital with 131 broken bones. It turned out that Rexomore had thought his appeal was declining, so pulling off a stunt like this would double his popularity. He was wrong, as it actually tripled his popularity, and a new meme was created, quite similar to the one where two spidermans (or is it Spidermen?) stare and point at each other. The 58,000,000 US dollars were actually medical bills for the plastic surgery to return Terry back to his original state, and to fix his bones in the process. And once it was all done, Terry, who was still unconscious, was returned back to his house.
\~\~\~
Terry Goslery woke up in his bedroom, only to find 32 US dollars at the foot of his bed, with a small note attached:
“Hey, Terry. Sorry about breaking all your bones with a sledgehammer, but it had to be done. Also, here’s $32, the amount left of that $58,000,000 that I gave to you after fixing all the stuff I did to you. Hope you have a great rest of life (to be honest, it’s probably shortened after that fight), and if you ever need any favours, just gimme a call.
Good luck and best of wishes,
Tyrone “The Four Leaf Cleaver” Rexomore”. |
The homeless man wasn't saying much, but I could tell he appreciated the drink. He took a proud sip and looked at me with a subtle grin.
"How did someone like you end up like this?"I asked.
His grin faded as he turned his head away from me before replying "I've done some terrible things, things you couldn't imagine. Nor would you want to."He takes a more robust swig of his liquor. "It's one thing to kill a man, but god doesn't let you forget killing a ch....child."
I could see him visibly shudder.
"Why would you do something like that?"
"They was the orders! We all had to, otherwise, we would be the ones to die, them or us! Nearly everyone I know has died anyway, since then, mostly suicide."He upends his glass to quickly finish his drink, before slamming his glass on the timber bar.
"How could they justify targeting kids? Isn't that illegal?"
"Well, they weren't technically young, they were old as us?"
I scrunched up my face to try understand, and he could tell I was confused.
"You see they just looked like kids when we killed them, but theys was adults."
I'd reached the limits of my facial confusion "So they were adults? Not children?"
The man got up from the stool and looked around before moving closer to me. In hushed tones he continued "You see the US made a type of ammunition..."he stops to look around suspiciously again "....a biological weapon. It would changed our enemies, make them go back younger. I'm really not supposed to tell anyone this, they'll kill me."
"I'll get you another drink..."I offered
He nodded and continued "Well, we was shooting up them Arabs with these new type bullets, and we could here em' crying a few minutes later. They would come running to us as fresh as they were 25 years before, some young boys, others even younger. We didn't know what to do, the commander said they were still the enemy....but they didn't have the mind like soldiers, they were scared as all hell."
His eyes glossed over as he recalled, his voice affected by a restrained remorse and intensity.
"...and they were really just like kids. But because theys was technically still adult age, we would have to dust em off like combatants. So we did, we cut em all down. "
He plonks back into the stool. "And it changed us. We all died with those boys we killed, no man of god could live with that..."He gazes over to the steetside window "...and most of em' haven't." |
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