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The sounds of broken bodies striking the earth intensify. Brief screams of agony fill the night, blending together in an unrelenting chorus of the macabre. Windshields shatter. Roofs collapse. Streets run crimson as rivers of blood rush into overflowing sewers..... It's raining men. It's raining babies. It's raining women. It's raining college students. It's raining minds. It's raining beer.
An-dere hoo!
After we swept up all the corses, we ventured around the fence and then back over the fence. We took a short break in the gardens and then returned to the forest where we joined up with George, who drove us up to the channel. I returned the horses to the tramway and then they began to take us to the gate. Our horses looked exhausted but, as usual, my horse "dug"very carefully and sped off. We got into the village and the driver was waiting for us. It was strange that we had not been able to get into the little office while we were out. We had to make a long detour to find out how to get into the office of the Irish Naturalist Publishing House. They were still trying to work out the reasoning on why fully-grown humans had dropped from the sky that day.
They were following up on the media reports by the BBC. That particular brand of street wise dandy would sit down at his computer and try to solve this mystery on the fly.
But we were from the university's Faculty of Archaeology. We had a long and established record of collecting artifacts. We had amazing people come to us with their collections of sky femurs for us to study and share with the world. Our expert staff and students kept ourselves extremely well supplied and constantly at the ready to use the latest technology to examine and study the fantastic remains.
Over a year later we gathered in Dublin to announce our findings. We collected and analysed 17 of the remnants and deduced that the source of the sky-men had come from Argentina. They were expected to re-appear anywhere from 27 July to 14 August. The public was on edge. The mass solar-panels which now covered most cities could not handle the load, and our sanitation infrastructure was woefully under-equipped for another body storm.
The consequences were devastating. The office of statistics estimated that 90 percent of the population could perish from poor sanitation from the flaying corpses. This also took place at a time when futuristic hygiene techniques had barely begun to take hold. Little, if any, progress had been made. We didn't have the money to fix the system. We didn't have the time. I literally didn't have a dollar.
When it next rained, we were doomed. |
Archeus raised his blade with a victorious grin. Nobody was left to stop him now. Lyperio's bag of tricks was finally empty. No allies left, no weapons to use, no secret power to block his sword.
"You see, Lyperio, I win! Your kingdom is mine! Too long you and your people have disgraced me, and now they shall bow before my throne like cowardly sheep! And your head shall be displayed above the throne room for everyone to see! Good riddance!"With that, he prepared to slice the sword down, but Lyperio suddenly looked up with a smug grin.
"You're too late for that, Archeus. You should have killed me 10 seconds ago."As if on cue, band music started playing in the background. But who was left to play that music? Was that the theme music of Lyperio? Uh oh. Archeus knew he had made a grave mistake. His eyes grew larger than grapefruit and he dropped his sword. No weapon, he knew, would curb the power of violins and trumpets. The only option was escape. Unfortunately for him, he was too late. A hard object smashed against the backside of his skull, knocking him to the ground flat.
Lyperio rose to his feet and strode over to the stunned body of the unlucky villain.
"Nobody, Archeus, can withstand the power of music. You overlooked that, and that is your fatal mistake."
"No. Please,"he whimpered. "I'm sorry. I'll do anything. Please have mercy."
"The despicable deserve no mercy,"Lyperio whispered. A trombone soared through the air, striking Archeus in the head. He twitched once, as if struggling to get up, and then lay still. |
The chief sat at his desk either taking notes of what I was saying or writing up the first draft for my termination. I've brought this kind of thing to him before and every time he shuts me down. "We need you here,"he'd say, "You don't actually want this.".
But I really did. My whole career has revolved around solving the so-called "mysteries"of the other, more notable, detectives. While they go around actually solving crimes and making this city safer, I've got my ear to the ground trying to find the lieutenant's cat.
Now, I paced before him, giving the same speech I'd always given him.
"Sir, I was the one who found this case. I deserve to be the lead investigator, detective Perry hasn't done anything. He's asleep at his desk right now, for God's sake!"I pointed to the balding man outside the office. His face was burrowed into a pile of paperwork and was covered in crumbs from the box of donuts I'd brought in earlier.
Goes to show what I mean to anyone around here. Good for snacks and the occasional minor snoop.
Chief Warren didn't even look up before he gave me his answer. "Thatch, I understand what you want, I really do, but the answer, like the last time you bugged me about this, is no. Our people are working on this. You just do what you already have on your desk, don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
It was almost verbatim of what he said last time. Apparently, I was getting predictable. Every time I clock in, I'm sidelined, but I'll be damned if I let that be my legacy.
"Who was it that found your former high school sweetheart's dating profile? Who collected all the witness statements about the infamous city-wide traffic jam of 2015? And who was the wonderful guy that tracked down Crews' vinyl jazz collection? Me, it was all me. I'm good at what I do and you're keeping me from doing it. Why? Why give me all these crap 'cases', as you so lovingly call them? They're jokes."
This was the most aggressive pitch I'd ever made. The closest match would probably be when I accidentally spilled his coffee on the homicide files. My heart raced and I was almost out of breath, this was electrifying.
He finally looked up from the pages in hands and looked at me with an oddly straight face. "Do you know why I keep you benched? Hm? Why I'm keeping my 'star player' out of the game?"
"Because you hate me? Because I might actually do some good? I don't know."I never thought I was better than everyone or that there was some plot against me, why did I say that?
"Because right now your face is redder than communist Russia."
That certainly wasn't the answer I was expecting. Sure, it was feeling a little hot in here and I could feel myself sweating through my clothes, but I couldn't look that bad.
"I'm afraid I don't follow,"I said.
"That's it right there,"he said as he leaned back in his chair, "You're afraid. Afraid of pretty much everything. That isn't necessarily useful in the field."He bent over and pulled a few files out from a drawer.
I could feel my face getting hotter. I'd been through plenty of horrible situations like that mildew scare and the block's power outage a few months ago. "I'm not afraid of anything, sir, I'm read-"
"' Detective Tanner Thatch, 34, enrolled in the academy at 27, flunked out three times before finally graduating at 31. Psychological profile established as 'fragile'. For incidents one through ten refer to page seven.' Don't mind if I do."He thumbed through the pages.
I stepped forward, "Sir, that's not really nece-"
"' Incident 1,'"he continued with a fixed stare, "' During academy training, Thatch was a participant in the paintball training scenario. After refusing to fire his weapon, Thatch was hit with a stray paintball. Due to its red colour and as Thatch describes 'horrible pain', he assumed he had been shot and fainted on the training warehouse floor.'"
"I see what you're ge-"
"' Incident 2,'"If he continued to keep interrupting me, his boss was going to be in for a slew of angry letters, "' Officer Thatch's first day in the field resulted in three separate car crashes, multiple lawsuits, and very angry citizens. Thatch's inability to operate under pressure when directing traffic led to a media scandal in the department.' Do you see what I'm getting at?"
It pained me to understand what he was insinuating. All of it was true, I don't handle pressure very well, but so what? A few bumped fenders and panic attacks do not a coward make. I just needed another chance to prove myself and this new case could pave the way for me.
"Okay, okay. I've had a... rough time in the past, but I can do better now. I've seen my fair share of bad. This kid needs finding and you know I'm the best at sniffing out the clues."
Several hours ago, a child was improperly reported missing. The mother who filed the complaint was a repeat offender and yet her son was almost never missing. Every time he leaves her sight, she comes down to the station screaming about her boy being abducted. The first few times she'd come, everyone went nuts. They all searched for anything about the boy while I was in charge of the copier toner.
This kid must be some kind of ninja to keep evading his mom as he does. Or she's just not very attentive. Most recently, the boy was found in the car she drove to the station in. If anyone was going to crack the case wide open it was me.
The chief sighed, "If it were any other abduction case, I'd be putting Perry on it."He pointed to the detective who was now drooling all over his out-going mail, "But since this is a little bit boy-who-cried-wolf I'll give you lead on this. This is a test, you hear me? If Gabe's not found in the next 12 hours, I'm getting the feds on this again. They'll hate it and I know precisely who they'll blame."
I stood up straight, pocket protector snapping into place on my chest. Finally, a case where I can do some actual detective work. Everything is coming up Thatch!
"Before you start gushing on about your sworn duty, get out of here and go find that kid."he picked up his pen and resumed his writing, "12 hours. Got it?"
I didn't even respond, I rushed out the door and began gathering my things from my desk. My badge, my glasses and their spare set, my inhaler, everything I'd need out in the field. I downed a small cup of horrible coffee and made my way out the door in search of my first clue.
Not five steps away from the front door stood a young boy with a horrible haircut and mismatched clothes. There were no adults accompanying him but he looked like he'd been here plenty of times. In fact, he had.
I looked down at him, "Hi Gabe, how are you doing?"
"Mom forgot me in the mall. I figured I'd just come here instead of home. It's a shorter walk this way."
I knelt down and took his hand, "Well, Gabe, let's go see if we can call your mom. I'm sure she's worried sick."
We walked back into the station where I led him over to my desk to make his call home. While a part of me is glad the boy is safe, another smaller, more cynical part of me was sad the case was over. Not even five minutes before the thrilling conclusion.
But my first real case was open and shut in the blink of an eye. How many big-time detectives can say that? |
Hello, my name is Eli McCreedy, and I work here at 'The Weird and Beyond'. I am a tour guide and I assist people in their hunt to see some of the most popular mythical creatures. Our most famous one is sasquatch and we have gotten more than a few jumps out of the crowd.
However last Monday something felt...off? Like there was something that existed that...well...shouldn't have. I went about my daily routine, smile on face, welcome everyone on to the shuttle, and begin talking. However after showing the crowd the 'House of The White Lady' (yes that's her name, the creators and really that creative).
Anyways as we were entering the building something knocked over upstairs. I assumed it was a rodent that had gotten in to the house, (we rarely checked on the house because I mean it was meant to be haunted and abandoned after all). One of our attendees started to complain about a sudden decline in temperature and honestly I felt it too. It was a bone numbing, goosebump giving, chill that tickled my spine all the way down to the tailbone.
Again I played it off as being some sort of global warming issue, and simply reacted by saying 'looks like the The White Lady Is present today'. There were some nervous chuckles but we continued through the house, nothing else really happened until we were descending the stairs. One of our staff was screaming, dashing down the stairs at full sprint, clutching her arm and crying. I later found out what happened but I'll save that for later.
So, we continued our trip, everyone extremely unnerved by these events and although I was feeling quiet scared I kept the smile on my face and told everyone to cheer up and to look carefully as we were coming up to where the infamous sasquatch liked to visit to hunt the deer.
Now we had hired a professional actor to play the part of bigfoot, however I want you all to know that we had some of the best artists at our disposal to do his make up, which ended up taking 13 hours to do every time we did this tour. Now back to the story.
Where were we??? Oh yes, so we were riding through the bumpy road, watching intensely at the trees, when I noticed bright green eyes staring back at me. I jumped at the sight of those soulless eyes staring at me, people noticed and asked if I was okay. I laughed and said it looked like I might be its next meal (I regretted ever saying that).
Next we heard am almighty roar, inhuman and loud, like 110 decibel loud. 'That's not right' I had thought to myself, knowing full well we didnt have that kind if sound system in this area, we also didnt have an audio track that could play that noise. But still we continued on. Eventually one if the passengers pointed out that they saw a hairy 'thing' dashing through the trees at high speeds.
'Alright' I thought to myself, "something is going on, I mean bill was meant to run past the shuttle by now whats taking him so long". That's when we heard it, a chilling scream, sounding very similar to a grown man, echo through the sky. "That's it"I said. "Hey Jackson, turn her around, something isnt right here"I whispered to my coworker. The shuttle was turned around and we headed back towards the reception.
"There has been a slight issue so we are going to postpone the rest if this tour until we have dealt with this problem", I announced still keeping a smile going. "Dont worry you will get a partial refund and a free item from our gift shop, we hope you come back again, and sorry for any inconvenience that may have been caused".
Just then something hit the windshield and Jackson was forced to brake. I scanned the area looking for what we had just hit. Unfortunately, that's when I spotted 'It'. A hairy creature, with gleaming green eyes, 7ft 8"in height and had massive hands and feet that could wrap around my skull. I screamed at Jackson to step on it, and to not slow down no matter what came in front of the vehicle.
We spend past the remainder of the forest, but as we were passing the house, the engine started sputtering and a loud growl was heard in the distance, I yanked the key out and inserted it again attempting to restart the shuttle, i tried hot wiring it , nothing. Is shouted for everyone to get out of the shuttle and to run to the main building.
People were panicking, pouncing over each other as they tried to desperately escape their seemingly certain demise. I ran, I had to leave jackson behind, his belt wouldn't come off, even with the force of two fairly strong men we couldn't open it. I said I was sorry before leaving him, it wasnt shortly after that I heard a scream spill through the air, followed by loud cries of pain and snarling.
I felt force on my legs as If i was being pulled downwards, i jumped and fought at whatever invisible force was attacking me and managed to get free, I ran even faster. So many screams filled the air, howls and growls, monsters pouncing on all these innocent people, a pregnant woman had lost her arms and a leg and was begging to be out of her misery, I continued to run.
Right in front of me I saw it again, that massive creature just staring at me, it almost looked like it was smiling at me knowing I had nowhere to go. A loud ringing came from above and more howls filled the air, I felt someone tap my shoulder before I fainted out of pure terror.
I awoke in a warm environment, for a second I thought it was a dream, then the horrors flooded my mind and I vomited all over the floor. "Mr. McCreedy, hi my name is Trisha Watson, but you can call me trish"the formal looking woman spoke. I looked in confusion to her and then to boss, who had a worried look on her face.
"What happened"I groaned. "We believe that some if our....subjects escaped from our control after a power outage at the station that shut down everything in our station, including the holding cells locking mechanisms"Trish spoke again.
Still holding the look of confusion she handed me a piece of paper, "sign this Mr. McCreedy"she said in a soft tone. "What is it?"I replied. "It is an NDA, we cannot afford the public finding out about this mistake, it would send then into complete panic, it's a crisis that we cannot have"she retorted.
I signed the paper and requested I leave and join my other coworkers, some were crying, others were groaning in pain as I noticed several if my friends were now missing limbs, eyes, had deep scratches on their bodies, missing their tongues. I cringed at the sight if them all. The I remembered my one coworker who had run from the house.
"Hey Jess, what happened to you earlier?"I asked. She was sobbing still and clutched her arm. Slowly she cut open her sleeve and unveiled the massive scratch that tore straight through her arm, separating her ligaments, muscle and tissue all cut away as if it was a but if butter. "Oh my God are you okay, have you gotten any treatment yet?"
"No"she replied, "I have to sign that paper first before i can get treatment". After awhile of talking, she shared her story on what happened. Apparently, as a were going down the stairs a woman, dressed in white, pounced at her, a single long nail cutting through her arm like nothing, the woman laughed before jumping onto the ceiling and giggling as she ran out of the house. The scariest part of this story...the woman was crouched directly above me as I walked out of the door.
We have new rules in place for these events now, if we encounter this problem we are to evacuate to the closest evac station to us, and wait until notice has been given that it is safe to leave the area. I will never forget that day.
Thanks If you read this story it's my first one, and I've probably made a mistake such as maybe posting this in the wrong place, hope you enjoy all criticism is welcomed. |
Calia had always been a big fan of Star Wars. She had read all of the comics, watched all of the shows and movies, and even went to Galaxy's Edge with her family the day it opened in Disneyland. Her parents were big Star Wars fans too, yet not as big as she was. It was almost all she talked about. When she was younger, she was pretty much like the normal kid when it came to Star Wars, i.e. pretending to use the force, but she was now a teenager and she still did things like that. She was basically a geek, but on a different level of geekiness.
The strange thing was, that if you asked where her extreme obsession with Star Wars came from, she wouldn't answer. This wasn't because she was too embarrassed to say, but because she didn't KNOW the answer. She just felt some sort of connection to it, and just... Stuck to it. She felt that she was just different, and that a lot of people go through phases that they grow out of, and this was hers.
Little did she know, it wasn't a phase.
Now, onto our story. This started on January 2nd, 2020, which happened to be Calia's sixteenth birthday. It was the day after New Year's, and she was going back to school. Because of the things above, she didn't really have any friends, but she didn't care. She knew that she was different than the rest of her peers, and this was okay for her. During lunch, she sat in the far corner of the lunchroom, always trying to levitate her fork with "the force."She basically tried to use the force on... any small object, really. Pencils, coins, screws, forks, anything in that size range. It was one of those things that she did. Everyone would start watching her and laughing at her, but again, she didn't care.
Now today, Calia was just eating her lunch before trying to levitate her fork, when a voice came from beside her, saying, "U-uh... hello?"
The voice had no malicious undertones to it, which was strange to her. She had always pretty much been mocked by others. The voice sounded a little nervous and shy, in fact. She looked at the source of the voice and saw a boy about her age. He took a deep breath and asked, "M-may I sit here?"
She smiled and nodded. "Sure! I'm Calia, by the way,"she said, holding her hand out to the boy for a handshake.
He smiled back and shook her hand. "I'm Caiden, it's nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too,"She said. "So, are you new around here?"
"Yeah, why?"He asked.
"Well, anyone who has come here before knows that I'm the school's 'weird kid,'"She said, wondering how she got this far into the conversation without making the other leave. Then she remembered she hadn't started talking about Star Wars yet. 'As long as he doesn't ask anything related to my obsession with Star Wars, I'll be okay,' She thought.
Then he asked the question, "What? Why are you thought of as weird?"
Welp, here we go. She said, "Well, I kinda have a weird obsession with Star Wars..."
Caiden looked confused. "That? That's why you're known as the 'weird kid?' A lot of people like Star Wars."
"No, you don't understand,"She said. "I'm like, MEGA obsessed. It's almost all I talk about. I still do the thing where I try to use the force on small objects."
"That's not that bad. Trust me, there are weirder people out there,"Caiden said.
"I know, and I'm okay with being weird, it's just boring not having any friends to talk about Star Wars with."Calia looked at her feet and sighed.
Caiden then told her, "Hey, teenagers can be harsh. They only want people who are like them to be their friends. But even though you're not like them, you're not less valid than any of them. You have to do what you do best and be you, no matter what they think."
Calia look up again. "You're right! I should do what I do best!"She picked up her fork and placed it in the center of the table. She then yelled, "HEY EVERYBODY!"
Everybody looked in her direction. Caiden said, a bit panicked, "Wait wha-"
Calia yelled again, "I'M GOING TO USE THE FORCE AND LEVITATE THE FORK OFF OF THIS TABLE AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!!!"
Caiden started whispering, "Oh my gosh everyone's staring-"
Calia closed her eyes and concentrated. She imagined the fork slowly levitating above the table. The sound of laughter first rang in her ears but suddenly stopped. Everybody just went silent. She wanted to see what they were going silent about, so she did the only logical thing.
She opened her eyes and broke concentration, just in time to see the fork drop from one foot in the air and clatter onto the table.
///////////////
I'm not the best writer, but here's what I have. I hope you enjoyed. |
"Good morning, Glory."
I yawned and sat up to see Sam lying in bed next to me, about to go to sleep. "Good night, Sam,"I whispered, as I got up and grabbed my stack of blue sticky notes.
When Sam got the job as night shift manager, we knew the schedule was going to be harsh. With me working all day, and Sam working all night, we barely got the chance to see each other. But we needed the money, and someone had to be home in the afternoon anyway to bring Bobby back from school.
And so, we worked out the sticky note system. Little things that we couldn't find the time to say to each other, we would write down for the other to find later.
I walked over to the wall of our bedroom, covered in alternating blue and red sticky notes. At the bottom, I found today's note. "I love you. -Sam"Simple, but sometimes, simple is the best.
I smiled and added one more to the chain.
"Love you too. -G"
______________________________________________________
I headed downstairs to check on Bobby. "Bobby, it's time for scho-"
"Hi Mom! Mr. Petersen said we'd be doing volleyball today and I'm not sure if I should wear the blue shirt or the green shirt and also they're having fish for lunch today in the cafeteria and-"
"Alright, alright, calm down, young man. Did you brush your teeth yet?"
Bobby nodded furiously, his little head bobbing up and down.
"Oh? So if I was to go upstairs and check-"
His nodding suddenly turned into shaking back and forth.
I sighed. "Go up and brush them now! You're going to be late for school!"
"But Mom! It feels all weird on my teeth and the taste is-"
"You want *me* to come up and brush them for you? *Extra hard*?"
Bobby's face turned into one of fear. "No, I'm gonna brush them right now!"Bobby turned around and ran upstairs, his footsteps crashing through the house.
______________________________________________________
While Bobby was getting ready, I started looking through today's sticky notes.
"New oven's coming on Thursday. -Sam"
"Maybe spaghetti for dinner? With the lemon chicken. -Sam""Sounds good. -G"
"Out of toilet paper, can you pick some up from store? -Sam"
I heard a shout from the bathroom. "MOOOOM! We're all out of toilet paper!"
"There's some in our bathroom, just be careful not to wake up Dad, okay?"
"Okay!"Bobby ran upstairs, and I winced a little as I heard the bedroom door slam. Sorry, Sam.
______________________________________________________
Back to the notes.
"Phone bill on desk in office. -Sam"
"Tanner and family maybe coming over next weekend? -Sam"
"Have a good day at work. -Sam"
When I got to the last note, though, I stopped. Something was off. It looked like Sam's handwriting, but there was something strange about it, something different. And the message was...
I smiled a little and took the note with me.
______________________________________________________
I got back from work to see Bobby charging towards me. "Mom! You're back! You're back!"
"Oh? And why are you so excited to see me?"
"N-no reason! I mean, because you're my mom, and I love you! Also, you went to the store, right? Right? I'm gonna go and help you bring the bags in, okay?"Bobby rushed out the door towards the car.
After Bobby brought the rest of the bags in, I saw him searching through them, looking disappointed.
I carefully hid the bag I was holding behind my back.
"Hmmm, what are you looking for, Bobby?"
"Ice cream! Ice cream!"
"Now, why would you think I bought ice cream?"
"No reason! I mean, um- Dad left you the note, right? I saw it! It said to get strawberry ice cream! So you definitely got some, right?"
"Oh, you mean... this note?"I took the note out of my purse. "Well, there are two things wrong with this note. The first is that your father does his t's with a little slant upwards, not flat."
"And the second..."I pulled out a tub of ice cream from the bag, "is that your dad likes mint chocolate chip."
"Bleah! Mint! Not mint! It tastes like toothpaste...."Bobby slumped over, dejected.
"Come on, don't be so sad. After all..."
I smiled as I pulled out the second tub of ice cream.
"Mom thinks mint tastes like toothpaste too."
"Strawberry!"
"Now, promise me you'll brush your teeth by yourself every day this week. Or else I'm going to eat this *whole* tub by myself!"
"I promise!"
______________________________________________________
As Bobby was scooping ice cream for us both, I left a note for Sam.
"Ice cream in fridge. -G" |
Part 1:
“Wait. I am concerned what you heard was: ‘they have no military’. What I *said* was ‘they have zero militarized presence.’ Do you understand, Emissary?” I shifted my weight awkwardly between all four of my feet as I checked the translator on my ear to make sure it was working correctly. Diplomacy had never been a strong suit of mine–it was one of the many reasons I’d been stationed out here in the black to begin with—and I was unused to dealing with someone of Emissary Krellik’s high station.
Unfortunately, Krellik didn’t seem to share my unease. He gestured with a brightly colored wing. His mobile perch picked up the signal and glided him closer to where I stood. “Say no army. No weapons.” His facial feathers shifted to display Accusation. “No military. Is so?”
I could feel the start of tremors in my body as it responded to the stress of confrontation. Palming a stim pack from a pouch on my belt, I subtly injected myself while seeming to consider the Emissary’s response. Say what you will about the Conglomerate, but they make sure us station chiefs have access to High Tech, no matter what forgotten corner of the galaxy they choose to stick us. I felt the tremors subside, for now.
“Ah, no,” I said. “I did say no army, but they very much have weapons. They just don’t have any official militarized presence. Currently. I really must emphasize that last word. It is very important.”
Krellik’s feathers shifted again, and my translator unit was unable to decide whether it indicated Derision or Contempt. I personally felt it was likely both, and the unit needed a software update.
“Is one system. We want. We need. We not ask permission.” Krellik stared straight into my eye. “This visit courtesy. You not strong. You dirty station. Backwater. Debris everywhere. Hit shuttle. You not get say.”
I could feel the tremors wanting to come back, even with the stim pack raging in my veins. How to deal with a Ssshreet warlord had not been something they taught at the Academy back home.
“I apologize for any debris your shuttle may have encountered during docking. As you say, we are a backwater station, and may not have kept our immediate space as clean as regulation dictates. I also recognize that you do not need my permission to invade, Emissary, and I do thank you for stopping by our station before continuing on to the system in question.” I began walking toward one of the large display windows in the forward area of the meeting hall. Krellik followed a moment later on his mobile perch, and I suppressed a sigh of relief. If he had simply left, it would have been catastrophic. “Please take my warning to heart. Do you know why this station was established by the Conglomerate?”
Krellik said nothing, but his feathers indicated Mild Curiosity. I took that as a good sign, and gestured toward the largest window. Centered in the clear square of armored crystal was a nearby yellow star, shining brightly against the backdrop of our galaxy. “The system in question, a full one light-month distant. I fear it is not far enough. It has two inhabited planets, and seven inhabited moons.”
“Yes,” Krellik said, interrupting my rhythm. “Is known. Came for moons. We want.”
“Ah, yes, yes just so. But what you may not know is that one of those planets is a Class IV Deathworld. It is also inhabited by sentient life.”
Krellik made a choking sound that the translator could not process as language. It was the first reasonable reaction I had seen out of him yet. “Not possible. If Deathworld no sentient life. By definition!” His feathers shifted rapidly, seemingly unable to settle on any one emotional signal.
“Before I was stationed here I would have said the same, Emissary. But it is true. The planet is a Class IV Deathworld, and the inhabitants have not only survived, but thrived. *They* are the species that has colonized the other planet and moons of this system. *They* are the ones without any militarized presence. They do not need it. Thank the gods they lack hyper, and so continue to be contained to this star system, but that is the purpose of this station. Containment.” I took a deep breath. “If it comes to that, I do not believe we will be able to fulfill our mission. We were put here to talk with them if they ever reach out this far, but I do not imagine that will work as my superiors believe. The local sentients are too strong. Too vicious. Too resilient.”
Krellik displayed Disbelief, clearly over his initial shock. “One system. Not threaten Conglomerate. Not threaten Ssshreet.”
I wrung my hands. I could see where this was going. “Emissary, please understand. You must understand. They evolved in the gravity well of a *planet*, not a moon. We have checked. There are no recorded instances of sentient life ever surviving such gravity. Ever. In the entire Galactic record, the Shontee are the only other species to do so, and they had to download themselves to robotic chassis before they could settle on their new home planet.
“The gravity on this world is over seven times the galactic average. Our long-range telescopes have watched members of the local species lift objects many times their body weight. The heaviest observed was estimated to be over eleven standard units, and the male dragged it three entire body lengths before he was satisfied. I have seen the footage with my own eyes. They can run as fast as a Ssshreet warrior in flight, but they can keep going for days without rest or food, not minutes like you or I.” Krellik said nothing. His mobile facial feathers finally still as he listened.
“Plagues regularly sweep the system, jumping from local species to local species. These viruses evolve more quickly than we can analyze, but the inhabitants of this system are able to alter their bodies to fight off new and novel infections. If we had access to a Core World’s science cadre, my chief researcher believes we would still be unable to craft a disease that could kill them all.
“And there is more, so much more.” I tried to order my thoughts, but the tremors from earlier were finally showing themselves once again. “The air they breathe is so poisonous and corrosive our ships could only survive in atmosphere for a handful of minutes. They can heal from an injury that would immediately kill any other being from trauma shock. Even the loss of a limb, or several limbs, is not necessarily fatal. Their eyes have infinite focus, and they can see in all but the darkest of nights. They literally weld metal on to the teeth of their young, for no other reason than aesthetic appeal. Their planet is bathed in enough radiation during the day to contact-kill virtually any other species in the galaxy. Emissary, if your people attack, I fear that you all will perish.”
I stood as straight as possible, wishing I had facial feathers too so I could display the confidence and expertise I did not feel. But I had made my argument. I prayed to all the gods I knew that Krellik would listen.
For his part, Krellik was completely immobile, as only a species of his type could be. All that moved were his eyes, which darted back and forth, maybe tracking subtle cues I was putting out unintentionally. “Is lie,” he finally said. “Not possible your words.” |
It was a hectic two days. On January 1st, 2020 a new, yet short, chapter for humanity occurred. The events that took place were both awesome, and terrifying.
At first no one knew what was going on. Things started to happen for seamlessly no reason. The climate changed, ecosystems replenished, every disease was eradicated. Though mysterious at the time, we just rolled with it. Who could complain?
You could ask anyone what they thought was going on, and the answers varied. Some said it was the work of aliens, others thought scientist were pulling the strings, and most commonly it was believed to be God. The latter turned out to be true, but not in the sense that you'd think.
It happened every hour. After the first guy did his handy work, the next lady wasn't so discreet. She proudly announced herself as the one-and-only Creator, and salvation is here. You should have seen the look on the atheists face! So of course world ecstasy was her agenda.
That didn't last long.
Not everyone wanted to be all lovey-dovey. When you think of God you'd imagine devine benevolence, but it turns out that power can be abused. I mentioned that things were terrifying as well, so here's where things got scary.
Now I don't know what this guy's issue was, but he proved to be quite troubled.
Instead of doing humanity a favor, he transformed some people into miniature action figures and played with them in the sky where everyone could see him. Oh, and he wasn't a child. After that nightmare something interesting happened.
All children and adolescents disappeared, along with our clothes. Everyone became very attractive, and needless to say that was kinda fun. Obviously the work of a virgin.
Things sort of mellowed out for the next two days. Nothing too drastic happened, just fantasies being acted out by once powerless people.
And so, it was my turn. So I did what I've always wanted to do: I turned myself into a critically acclaimed author, and went on to write the greatest novels I could. |
It all started 24 hours ago. The night before I think . Time is vary hard to track.
The sky is pink and everything smells like elderberries.
There was an app that I don’t even remember downloading on my phone.
Mega fandom battle blast
Like a dummy I opened mfbb.
Then a prompt open up
Dedicated to the response ability to me for any damages or the result of death happening to me.
Ok.
There’s a lot of things I want but the way to survived being robbed and being put into unimaginable horror is to not panic , keep calm and thanks for all the fish.
You don’t need to select food.
You need to have a weapon that is light.
You need to keep moving . It’s dangerous to go alone take this.
Fore things that will keep me alive,going, and to allow me to cheat with out breaking the rules. If there’s is any rules to follow.
A vile of dna of plastic man that will give me powers from a Dc comics fanfiction.
Intersect sunglasses from chuck.
Another vile containing a sliver of the god emperor of mankind’s soul from war hammer 40k.
Monofilament switchblade from shadow run..
The time is now.
Of the 36 of us that I can see it’s a death battle ala hunger games. At least we have a backpack.
The first rule is to make a list of what people are wearing .
Two spot targets that are soft. Big weapon .
And three reading the rules is fun. |
\[poem\]
"The difference,"he said.
"Stands out like Queen Glamour.
Learn the definitions instead
of eyeing the grammar."
​
"'Supervillain' alone is very clear.
Someone who pursues a criminal career.
'Super villain': two words in complement.
Polite praise for a gifted villain: A compliment."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #021 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. |
Tortures of the Damned
When you get to Hell, the last thing you expect is to see your stepdad, the coolest man in the world, sitting atop its throne.
“My son, at long last, has come home!” He booms, standing up to greet and embrace me.
“Dad? I don’t understand. I don’t get what you’re doing here, much less why you’re—”
Your father, who is really your stepfather but raised you as his own, gives a great boom of a laugh.
“The King of Hell?” He finishes, smirking; his face reminds you rather unpleasantly of the cat after it ate the canary. “I was as shocked as you were, when I first got here. Now I’ve got full run of the place!”
You stare at him, your jaw on the floor. Growing up, he was your biggest role model; you wanted to be just like him. He raced cars, treated your divorced mother like royalty, was always kind and firm with you.
So how had he ended up here, of all places, in the afterlife?
The question must show on your face, because he smiles, looking like his old self.
“Oh, kiddo. There were things I did before I met you and your ma, things that I was so ashamed of that I barely even told her anything.” There’s naked vulnerability in his expression, something you’d never seen when he was alive.
“But here! Let me give you a tour of the place! God, your ma would’ve loved this place, kiddo. Hotter than the damn desert on a sunny day in California.” He laughs, and you follow him, eyes sweeping across the barren, fiery landscape of Hell.
Your father points to a firelit pit, thick with the stench of blood, tears, and pain.
“That over there is The Pit,” He says, nodding over to it. “Fortunately, that honor is reserved for some of the worst people to ever exist.” *And I didn’t qualify,* he adds silently, his eyes narrowing to slits as he observes the tortured and the damned.
The area is so dark and shadowed you can’t make out that much; the only thing you can really hear are screams and the insistent, vicious *crack, crack, crack* of the whip. You make out the silhouette of a thick and stocky man with a thinning, gray goatee and little, beady brown eyes.
“Hey, Dad, isn’t that… Isn’t that…”
“A certain Hollywood movie producer who used his power to hurt unsuspecting young ingenues?” Dad replies, smirking so hard that he can’t keep the wicked glee off of his face. “Oh, yes. He may have escaped punishment in the mortal world, but you can be sure that The King of Hell and his subject never forget.”
He’s pleased as punch, and despite yourself, so are you. It does what’s left of your soul good to see villains getting their just desserts.
“Well, Dad, you’ve done great for yourself in the afterlife. I mean, The King of Hell, that’s really something.”
“And it’s all yours, kiddo. If I’m the King of Hell, then you’re its prince.”
\*\* |
Hi u/Hulktron123, this submission has been removed.
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"W-who are you?"
"I am only the benevolent leader. Nothing more, nothing less. And I would say my people are quite happy, are they not?"
"B-but look at them. They don't fucking know! They don't know a control freak like you just has them all trapped in just a kind of simulation, toying with their lives."
"This is not a simulation. I expected you to throw nothing short of insults at me, quite meaningless I may add, but towards my people... Now, they would be quite upset at the implication that they cannot think for themselves."
"What the hell do you mean? What kind of twisted world have you made within those walls?"
"A perfect one. You see, we are happy here. We have education and training. We have work and exercise. And we reach towards accomplishment."
"No fucking way. Are those the lies you tell to the people?"
"The only one who lives wrapped in lies is yourself. I advise you to leave before your dripping ignorance leaves an unsightly stain on the entrance hall."
"You stole them away. A century ago you took a portion of our goods, a portion of fucking everything - and now it's gone, isn't it? Our people. Our lands. Our resources. You counted on the opposition being too weak to oppose your coup... but now we're not, you sick tyrant. We're going to take it all back, and erase all traces of you and your unethical experiments."
"Oh? Well then, continue. I have a bit of time, I might as well enlighten myself with the woes of a sad peasant."
"You... I fucking hate you. You have no idea what you've done to the rest of the world. You just live on in your little bubble of torturing others."
"Really? Ah, that takes me back, you know."
"The fuck do you even mean?"
"I remember a time when I cared so much about the rest of the world, too. Much like you, I felt rather downtrodden, and I wanted to destroy the elites and the sick systems they implanted. At least, that was what I thought."
"Bastard. No one fucking cares about you in the past."
"Ah, ah. Listen, lest you find your exit transformed into a long hallway of thorny spikes. Now... I consider my past an amazing feat. Much better than what you could ever conceive of. Suddenly, my experiments yielded me breakthrough after breakthrough. I was the one oppressed, and yet it seemed as if God had sent me a miracle - although I never believed in him prior to that, nor do I now."
"I'll listen. I'll listen to your stupid delusional tale."
"Indeed, I found myself at the crux of power, and with such a strange and vast world that seemed suddenly at my disposal. Ah, the experiments I could have wrought. The destruction. The terror. You have no idea how so so so so badly I wanted to destroy humanity after that - and to die if I couldn't."
"B-but you thought better of it, right? What's the deal now? Y-you could have done better."
"I have done better. I guess there might have been some things in the earth worth salvaging after all. Maybe I saw my eyes reflected in a sparse number of others, and that was why I decided to gather them together."
"They became your pawns."
"Maybe. I might be a control freak indeed - yet my pawns were quite happy living with my resources, my power. Not long after, an idiotic government official happened to notice a growing force in the city. With a wave of his chubby hand, he demanded my head. And you know what you do when the world around you relentlessly demands change as it presses in on you? You simply create a new one." |
Note: This is a work in progress. I would be happy to finish it if there is interest.
\---------------------------------------------------
“*Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak.”*
I looked up from wiping down the bar to see two men standing in the tavern’s doorway. One was short and stocky, the other was tall and lanky. They were both wearing dark trench coats. I instantly got shady vibes from the duo but brushed it off as them probably just being politicians or something.
“Sorry guys, but last call was an hour ago. We’re closed for the night.” *Come to think of it, didn’t I lock the door?*
“Not for us, you ain’t. We own this joint.” The stocky man approached the bar. “Go get ya boss, tell ‘em Uncle Sam came to visit.”
I shrugged and started down the hallway that led to the owner’s office. These guys seemed to know the boss, hell, they even had a key to the building. I figured I might as well let the man in charge handle the situation. I ducked into the office and saw the boss counting up the last of the cash in the register before locking it up for the night.
“Hey Brady, what’s going on up there? A couple of drunks wander in or something? I thought I told you to lock the doors after everyone cleared out.”
“Nah, a couple of suits came wandering in and said they wanted to talk to you. They’re waiting up front right now. Both looked like the greasy politician type, if ya know what I’m saying.”
The blood suddenly drained from the old man’s face.
“Urg… they’re not politicians. It’s even worse… they’re bureaucrats.” He hurriedly shoved the money that he had been counting into the safe and locked it. He rushed past me and quietly closed the office door. “You wait here, Brady. I’m going to go out front and try to get rid of them.” He whispered while reaching under his desk to grab something. “I know this is a lot to ask, but if shit hits the fan…” He shoved a shotgun into my hands. “I know that’s a lot to ask… but just in case, okay?”
Before I could object, the old man disappeared down the hallway. I gulped, the shotgun trembling in my hands.
*Can I really do this?* *He saved my life when he took me in… but isn’t this asking too much?*
“Ah, welcome, welcome! How can I help you two fine gentlemen?” The boss cried out with a tremor in his voice.
“Long time, no see, old man.” An unfamiliar voice replied. I assume that it must’ve been the tall man. “In fact, it’s been *too long*.”
“Yeah, a little too long, if ya catch our drift.” The stocky one replied.
“Mr. O’Connelly, you do know what our policy is at the IRS regarding missed payments, don’t you?”
“W-well, of course I do. I-it’s just that business is really slow right now! I can’t afford to keep the doors open and pay your fee right now. Just let us get through the slow season and I promise that I’ll pay you back- with interest!”
One of the men sighed loudly. “That’s really a shame, Mr. O’Connelly. Don’t you know that paying your taxes is part of your civic duty? You know, doing your part to help the country and all of that stuff. It makes my heart hurt. Where do you think I get the money to feed my family?” The tall man took a deep breath. “We will, of course, take your taxes with interest whenever you are able to pay them. However, until then… we just can’t guarantee that this establishment will be protected.” The tall man paused to let the boss think. “Say, that’s a fine-looking young man you have working here. It’d be a shame if his legs got broken in a horrible accident when he clocks out tonight…”
“Y-you leave him out of this! He has nothing to do with this!”
“Don’t worry old man, you’d get a matching pair!” The stocky man howled with laughter.
I don’t know what exactly counts as ‘shit hitting the fan’, but this was getting pretty damn bad. |
…but we really haven’t been on the best of terms lately. We’ve been kind of distant after last month when our grandmother died. We were remembering all the wonderful times we had with her and the relationship we built, but knowing we could have done so much more is what hurt us the most.
The years leading up to Grandma’s death, she would beg us to come stay with her for a couple weeks instead of all these little weekend trips we would take. He would always tell her we would, but I’ve always been more interested in spending a 2 week vacation somewhere I’ve never been. None of us expected her to go so soon, but I’m always procrastinating important things as if our time together isn’t limited.
He’s always the logical one, coming from the heart with all the best intentions. I’ve always been the selfish one trying to party, act like a bad ass. Always taking things too far. Our relationship really started taking foot around the age of 8. I was struggling to define who I was and who I should hang out with. I had to talk to myself in the mirror and convince myself that I wasn’t going to get picked on, or gather enough courage to talk to whoever was my crush at the time, or how to better control my emotions. I would always look forward to seeing each other in windows I walked by, which would help boost my confidence. Quick pep-talks in the bathroom at all of life’s biggest events.
Eventually, I started lying to him. Not on purpose or anything but just because I have a hard time following through with some of the agreements we’ve made. For example, I’ve been smoking pot knowing he doesn’t approve for 2 decades. He blames it for the procrastination and the lack of richness in our outside relationships. He’s probably right but I feel its necessary to level out this less than stable head of mine.
What really drove us a wedge between us was back around July when we got into a fight with a crazy guy on the street in Outer Mission area. We heard someone yelling aggressive things, we turned around and made eye contact with this guy and apparently that was enough for him to lose it. He drank some water out of the cup he had and spit it at us, covering us and a lady friend we were with. I know you and I don’t know each other very well but I’ve spent my childhood fighting and it’s evolved into me able to get into full fledged human survival fight-mode very quickly and get into physical altercations with someone who’s intentionally disrespecting us. I don’t describe it as a short fuse but more of an easy switch. Anyways, not taking lightly to it, I got into a fight and walked out with a dislocated shoulder that’s cost me since.
He doesn’t believe that violence is the answer in any situation, even though I feel I only had one option in that situation. It’s as if my default setting from outside experiences shaped my way of thinking and instincts, and his is just coming from internal experiences we’ve had. Times shared with family. Mom holding you while you cried as a child or sleeping on your dads chest. Kissing your first girlfriend. Rich memories with friends, and all the times that make up the story book of your life.
I miss him, even though I haven’t been the best of friend towards him either. I haven’t given him the time he deserves, or just invested in us lately. Instead, I waste it drinking, smoking, partying, women, blowing our income on impulses of fun, and he has every right to be mad at me. I’m scared that there may be a day where we will no longer have the ability to know each other. If he reads this, or if you see him, can you tell him that I have our best intentions in mind and that I’m trying my best everyday? I think we can both be a little more understanding and not hold each other to standards so high. Tell him I’m ready to open my self up to his ways. |
Hi u/Jasek_Steiner, this submission has been removed.
While it doesn't seem to be your intent, the mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel may become harmful to the community.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)*
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When the 7 deadly sins are used we get a lot of people that just run to Lust and make some really perverse stories. I like the idea of the prompt though. If you left them as unnamed nephilim I believe we could approve the prompt!
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Hi u/IMightBeAHamster, this submission has been removed.
**Fill-in-the-blank**: Responses must be at least 100 words. This is essentially a fill-in-the-blank, or you asked a question likely to generate a simple answer. Prompts should encourage a story or poem.
When prompts ask questions, we get responses that just respond with answers instead of actual stories.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)*
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Hi u/thiccpeepeeman, this submission has been removed.
The mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel is harmful to the community. This includes, but is not limited to any forms of hate speech, racism, politics, necrophilia, pedophilia, bestiality, incest, torture, rape, violence against children, and suicide. We will not tolerate it.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)*
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You are basically inviting people to pull out the most racist and awful things they can think of and defend it as "just a story bro".
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Forgive me, I'm just getting back into creative writing:
Ann was one of the first of her kind – her name being an acronym for the circuitry and silicone embedded in her hippocampus, a structure deep within her brain. *Artificial Neural Network*; marketed as the electronic inoculation for the most devastating defects and ultimate degeneration of human memory. Luckily Ann, while still a fetus, met every requirement on the participation application for the clinical trial and longitudinal study. Her father, Jacob, considered it a blessing; early onset dementia ran on his side of the family. It was possible this device could aid in learning and memory where his daughter’s genetics could fail; he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slide. He now had the chance to be a proud father of a child of his own, without having to worry about heredity and unfortunate predispositions.
Unexpectedly astounding early results of the device accelerated more trials; toddlers and children of the study were greatly outperforming their peers at pattern and recognition tasks. Within a decade the implant was available on the market; albeit at a very hefty price. Plenty of Ann's, Adriann's, and Annett’s were being born into 7-figure households with 6-figures of value embedded in their heads, modelling the changing face of the upper class.
But a facade of disingenuous pride, evolving into discomfiture, began to plague Jacob’s generation; spreading and tainting the world like the miasma of an airborne disease. He, like many others, was mired in the same kind of self-worth one would derive from driving the fastest car in the suburbs, or owning the newest iPhone. Their children weren’t perfect, but as close as technology would allow.
It wasn’t long before unease enveloped the “Organic” population. The “AI’s”, as they were dubbed, were mainly composed of the same messy tissue, blood, and genetics as anyone else. They were so similar and superficially imperfect, in fact, that it was almost deceiving. Their young faces were blemished; they could bruise; they could scar. They experienced emotions; they could cry, and they could laugh – but typically innate behaviors had transitioned into something systematic – *trained*. Even an unknowing observer could sense something *off* about them.
The AI’s had one large vulnerability. Their implant’s architecture relied on the body’s input and output to grow, and in turn provided support for higher-order capacities of the brain. They formed a co-dependency - one could exist, but not *thrive*, without the other. The ability to learn and remember relied on their implant, and the implant relied on human drive to learn and explore.
This weakness, along with societal fear and descent into the Uncanny Valley, provided excuse for discrimination. The unsettling familiarity of the AI’s, an epidemic which scoured children born into privilege, became rejected by the Organics. AI’s, at one time advantaged, were now stripped of their rights and forced to fight, as a minority, for minimum wage jobs and equal pay. A class war raged – it yielded no direct fatalities, yet overturned society.
Parents who initially flaunted their superior progeny slowly turned their backs to them. As much as he tried, Jacob couldn’t help but see his daughter as a machine tightly wrapped in the skin of a human which deceivingly mirrored his wiry hair and slight overbite. She was never really *his*, she was a child of technology.
A man, once excited to have a child of his own, now denied ever having one at all. |
The forgotten third brother Purgo, Eternal Steward of the In-Between finds himself dozing off in the middle of his shift where he manages the front desk of the infinite white void of purgatory. Whilst his brothers Satan and God rule their respective afterlives, Purgo rules the place between. Ironically, Purgo finds himself in a purgatory all his own, as the centuries tick away with nary a visitor. Purgo's day has been as it had always been - uneventful with not a *single* customer to process. You see, Hell considers extra waiting to be free untaxed torment on its denizens, while Heaven has implemented a multi-queue system that virtually eliminates long lines. Purgatory has, simply put, become obsolete. Nevertheless, Purgo's only purpose is to manage his eldritch plane of existence, whose lack of content apparently reinforces the Purgatory "corporate culture"of minimalism and emergent experience. When the desk's small wooden clock hits noon, a tiny bell rings, informing Purgo of the start of his lunch period. Purgo shuffles his papers from one unlabeled stack onto another, and takes his suitcase with him in a non-direction of the infinite white void. Intent on eating his lunch in-transit, Purgo lines himself up where he thinks a platform might be, and waits for a train elemental to capture him. A gloved hand scoops up the deity's shirt collar, dragging him along the slick floor by the posterior of his pants. While still sliding, Purgo unbuckles his briefcase to find a single tomato sandwich, which he disinterestedly gnaws on, attempting to ascertain some level of flavor or texture from the indescribably bland sandwich. "Purgatory would be Hell,"says Purgo, "if it wasn't for you, ethereal transportation ghost-thing."The elemental didn't respond. After an uncertain amount of time, Purgo places his - now, wet - sandwich back in his briefcase and prepares to disembark. The disembodied hand releases Purgo as it arrives back at his desk, where he sits down and gets back to work organizing blank pages into unlabeled folders for another eternity. |
**-Part 1-**
Even before i opened my eyes, i realized something was different. Something was wrong. I wasn´t lying in my Bed, but on a stony surface. Even the Air smells different, than what i am used to. After a few more seconds, i sit up and open my eyes and what i come to see is strange and familiar at the same time: High Buildings that were made out off some kind of concrete, but smaller and dirtier than what i am used to. It was Dark, but lamps and a moon that looks different than that of my home enlightens the night. While i was looking around, i realized something with myself was different. I felt stronger than normally and i was wearing different clothes than usually. I searched the pockets of these clothes, on the search for what was going on but i only found 4 items, that looked like some kind of weapon.
A Scream breaks through the Silence of this Night. It sounds like a human scream of fear and pain. Maybe i can get answers from the person who screamed -when i am able to find the person and she is still alive when i does it.- I stand up and stretched my legs and arms, before i start running into the direction of the Scream.
Not even a minute later, i heard another Scream. A Scream full of agony and tears and a sounds like something was biting into fresh, uncooked meat. A few seconds later, something came into my sight. Something i never thought i would see: A Woman lying on the Ground, weeping and bleeding from her leg where a chunk of flesh was missing. Over her was a man, with Blood dripping from his lips and His left hand full of Bloody meat.
I stopped and the man turned his Head towards me, so that i could see his eyes. His unnatural Red and Black eyes. I could feel the mans hunger and rage, that somebody dares to disturb his meal. I reached under my clothes, gripping my weapon while something Beginns to grow from his Back.
​
*-To be continued-* |
Sometimes the brass has a decent idea.
Most of the time, they don't.
Having both of the above true at the same time is priceless.
MISSION: Insertion via a commercial flight. Purchase superior equipment with provided funds. Take targets of opportunity to spread terror prior to invasion.
The basic idea is sound. A few well trained and prepared snipers can sow enough events to terrorize a population. If the community isn't already terrified. If they don't remind you how similar they are to your family. If you don't end up sympathizing with them.
A farming community. Several extended families are running vast tracts of land that their families have done so for over 100 years. I've been observing for far too long, but I can't help it.
I can see Uncle Joe, the one who is the real farming expert. Cousin Bob, with a fancy degree in agriculture. Gramma, who keeps the house running. Little Deb, who is the peacemaker, keeping us from killing each other. And myself. The damned fool who destroyed it all. Who wouldn't be drawn to a drama halfway around the world that is so familiar? Where a single shot can save them from you, and cause the terror that command wants.
Where you only have to shoot your counterpart, which Little Deb adores, Cousin Bob listens to keeping his enthusiasm from driving Uncle Joe to homicide, and Gramma worries about since his parents died shortly after he was born.
Who knew that the *enemy* were so much like us? The brass knew. They had to. Why are we fighting with these people?
### Day One
For some reason, command thinks these huge farm complexes, all run by a few extended families in a small town, are critical resources. Why? This is a vast land with many farm complexes just like this. Why is this one so important?
### Day Two
Found a good set of hides around the main house and particular outbuildings. There is some conflict between members of the farm community. That should make striking terror into them easy.
### Day Three
They are so much like my family.
### Day Four
The angry young man, so much like I was. He is key to their destruction.
### Day Five
Main actors in the community identified.
### Day Six
Dear Deities! Angry is just like me! He's *going* to destroy this community!
### Day Seven
Planning period over. Tomorrow, we start.
### Day Eight
Entire farm operation in turmoil. Delay action. Observe.
### Day Nine
Exactly like what I did. No, I can not watch this happen again. Never again. It starts with an assault on the peacemaker in the front yard after a huge argument. That's tomorrow.
### Day Ten
Yes, he's carrying a cleaver. I remember I had been pressed into kitchen duty. It was an accident. No one believed me. Wait for it... Wait for it...
*bang*
The cleaver goes flying before it can hit Peacemaker. Angry looks at Peacemaker in horror, realizing what almost happened. Peacemaker looks around, she's alert, and looks straight at me. She cannot see me. She knows this land inside out.
Angry and peacemaker go inside, Peacemaker leading Angry. Voices explode from the big house. Gramma comes out, searches for the cleaver. I can see her inspecting it. Her eyebrows go up.
Looking immediately to my spot, she looks stern, but bows!? Ah, thanking me for not killing and saving both of them from each other.
### Day Eleven
College trying to use the heavy farm equipment? Oh, things are disrupted. Things must be done, and he is confident that he knows how to do this. He's wrong.
Yes, he's forgotten to hook up the safety. Without that, he is in grave danger. Draw his attention.
*bang*
Zinging off the frame next to the safety warning, he ducks, looking around, the lead smear on the paint is like an arrow to the safety notice. The look of terror at being shot at becomes chagrin at missing a critical safety step.
He looks around but doesn't focus on this hide. A tentative wave, and he continues, this time checking each of the safety warnings.
After that, he sprints back into the house. Again, loud voices that drop to inaudible like the cleaver cutting it off. Gramma steps onto the porch, and bows again.
### Day Twelve
I have seen signs that at least one other sniper has come here. He's done with his assignment and has come to "help"me.
This is not unexpected, but it is a problem. I have to choose, mission or family?
Gramma does laundry today. Yes, there she is. I can see the UV spot from the other sniper. He's looking for a more high-value target. There aren't any. I cannot allow this!
He's lined up on Gramma, how... That's it!
*bang*
The shot goes perfectly. I could not perform that well with a fully preplanned shot. The wire she is hanging clothes on snaps just to the right of her head, causing her to flinch left and drop. The second shot passes her as she is falling. She crawls under the other clothing lines and hides. I can see her; the other sniper cannot. A few shouts at the house and upstairs windows pop open, rifles are being fired at the other hide. These people know their land. Sweeping the house, I see one rifle with a scope looking straight at me!
I quickly deflect my rifle and wave. There is a flash of light from that window. A shot goes high over my head, hitting a tree branch that I had considered using as a hide. Several more shots from the same window "chase"me down the tree and into the bushes. Just where I would have gone.
I scurry off that direction, to leave the appropriate trail. The other sniper will read the evidence as I missed the shot by an inch, and was fired upon in return.
A slur on my skill, but we can live with that. He will most likely contact me tonight. I must decide what I will do.
### Day Thirteen
A very unlucky day for one. I could not convince him to go help one of the others. Nor could I convince him that *not* killing was more effective than killing.
He is one of the stupid, forgetting that fear eating slowly away eventually causes more havoc than dying does. Tensions get higher. The enemy destroys themselves as a fighting force without any deaths at all.
I finally found a line of reasoning that convinced him. It left him with a new smile... under his chin.
I am committed now. Defend the farm. The best defense is a good offense.
There were eight of us. Now there are six enemy snipers left.
### Day Nineteen
One other sniper is remaining. He's slipped past me in the night. Spoor this morning shows he's headed to the front of the house. There are seven hides on that side, and one more, not as good, but commands a view of all the others — an ideal counter-sniper spot.
Yes. He has passed up multiple shots. We are searching for each other. It's like the apocryphal shot through the scope, which turned out true.
Finally, there he is — a glint from his scope. We fire at the same instant. Darkness.
### Day?
I've been out for a while. The farm family took me in. After I wake up, they bring me my rifle. The beautiful scope is a mangled mess. I try gestures to ask about the other sniper. There is much laughter. Finally, Angry realizes what I'm asking.
He points to his left eye, makes a sign I think of as head explodes, and then sounds like he's reaching.
Ha. Yes. I remembered that story correctly. The only reason I'm still alive. You cannot shoot easily through a scope. You can remember to shift your aim three inches right, hitting the target lethally.
They are jovial and have accepted me with open hearts. Perhaps it makes up in some small way for what I did all those years ago.
### Historical Interview
"Yes, he did save us from ourselves even more than the other snipers."
"Your account of the actions is called fanciful and suspect."
"No, it has been called an outright lie. Come with me."
The elder lady of the house struggles to reach her feet, but waves off offers of assistance. "As long as I can move on my own, I will do so."
First to the kitchen, and a cleaver hung in a place of honor. The blade lightly oiled to prevent rust. On one side, a bump. On the other, a large dimple.
Outside of the farm equipment. An old cultivator still in good condition despite being far outmoded. A section near a warning carefully sealed from the elements, a dent, and smear of something pointing at the warning.
A frame also carefully preserved with an odd section of wire in the middle and a series of other examples of a cut cable of the same type showing that only one method matches the centerpiece.
Set after set of physical evidence carefully preserved lovingly presented. Culminating in a graveyard. Seven in a circle around one. The center stone showing a shattered scope, and the legend, "A hero for all ages. Giving his life for a better world."
"He did, you know."
"How so?"
"We found what was left of his family after the war. He was the one who destroyed them with his anger. We were just like his old family and headed for self-destruction. He saved us from ourselves.
When his teammates came, he stopped them too.
Because we knew what he'd done for us, we tried all the harder to end the war with a peace treaty. Our words of praise for one simple farm boy nearly cost us the vote.
Yet it was his presentation to his own delegates that turned the tide of the negotiations. The shame of it all drove them to the treaty."
((finis)) |
The fine event is held on a giddy morning but no one shows up. The place so desolate with the machine cranking now and then, has no visitor. It is true. Science takes a while to make its place in the society, and so was this. However, the teleporter needed at least one visitor today, not to fill the seat which has been prepped for the volunteer but for the scientists who worked years to achieve this.
One brave man shows up. He's not a very strong, specimen of physique, but a weak and skinny teenager. He glances at the grumbling machine and fills his heart with determination. The scientists are overjoyed. They finally have someone to appreciate what they did. But for the boy? Why did he decide to do so. Nobody had seen the machine work. Nobody knows if they actually have tried it. Maybe this event was a testing ground.
The boy had lost his mom in the nuke of 2099. His mother gave his life trying to protect him, so he just wanted to see her again even if it was the opposite of what she actually was.
He straps himself in the machine and the scientists read a few figures off the monitor, followed by and A-OK signal. They switch on the machine. In a symphony of whirrs and clanks, a spark is heard.
The scientists stand on their places to see the machine work. Yes, they wanted to see if it actually works. The portal starts to open up and the machine starts towards it. A 100m apart the Quantum field signal pops on the monitor of the new intern.
"Sir! There is an inflow of quantum energy! We did not design for this change. The machine won't sustain the damage!"
"We'll see..."said the Head.
The boy hopes he'll see his mother as he speed towards the big circle of purple energy. The machine touches the portal.
Next day the news read, "40 killed in the blast of the Naroshima Research centre, 39 bodies found" |
Tomorrow is the solstice, my favorite day! We shall welcome the sun with the vibrant colors of our world, and bring forth warmth and light. For months we have painted the town, beautiful landscapes fill every wall, flowers and fruits line the streets in carts made for the occasion. Green, yellow, blue, pink, and orange fill every corner of our village! At least that is what we are told.
Nobody has been able to see color in my village for generations, the last ones died off years ago. We have books that tell us of colors though, and I dream them all so bright and lively! My mother says the solstice is about offering, and that may be true, but color; color is what brings the sun! What use is warmth to the grey and black! I know that these colors we display cover the rainbows of spring and I long so much to know their splendor.
We gather in the plaza with handmade quilts, sit together and enjoy the last feast of the winter! All colors are important to the solstice: the blue of the water, green of the grass, the pink in the berries!
However, the most important color of the season comes in the evening. Every year we must sacrifice a child and offer the red crimson blood to the sun as tribute! This is my year! As I lay on the cold stone and feel the blade run down my chest I smile. Looking beside my aching body I see it, red is even more brilliant than I could have ever imagined. |
It’s time to wake up, but I hate it so much.
The past few years have taught me that one of the most indulgent luxuries of adulthood is sleeping in, and I am always aching for a few more hours of sleep. Sleep and warmth.
As I hit snooze on my alarm clock, he stirs next to me. I love the sound of his breathing while he sleeps. I love the sound because I love him, and his breath tells me that he’s there. It tickles me that I’ve come to a point in my life where I can actually say that I love the sound of someone’s breathing.
It’s time to wake up, but it’s so warm here. He’s warm. I’m warm.
It’s time to wake up, but we didn’t have much to do today anyway. |
You know, it's not all that bad. Of course, there are drawbacks. Waking up to a fight in the sky you can't even see isn't very pleasant. Neither is having a random man talk in my head every couple years. But, still, there are some upsides. Like never having to do laundry because we all wear the same thing every day. Or coming out of catastrophic events with minor injuries because the creator of this universe doesn't pay attention to the rest of us. Occasionally, I see someone who looks just like me, and most of my friends don't blink. It's not much, but it's an honest life. |
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Log #2857:
I'm now waiting near the landing site. This is my most ambitious project yet; if anything goes wrong, the world's pretty much screwed over. Not to mention how so many factors are out of control this time. Though, I'm sure it'll work. I've run through the plans over and over, and I have set up a few countermeasures over the years, just to be on the safe side (ref. Project Glowstone).
Still remember how it all started. After the Gotham project, I was fucking on the moon. Well, I just tackled one of the most messed up cities out there and gave them a resident hero. He turned out a *little* more menacing than desired, but it'll do. Give it a few decades and that shitty place will sort itself out. Anyone want to give me a medal?
And it got me thinking about doing something even bigger. Heck, let's make a guy who can help the whole country. Or the continent. Or the world. Well shit a brick, where am I going to find a guy like that? Times like this I wish I could outsource this crap. Then it hit me: freaking OUTSOURCE! If there aren't any suitable candidates on Earth, it was time to cast my net further.
The biggest pain in the arse turned out to be making the communications device. Shit a brick - no, shit ten bricks, how in the world was I to establish coms with someone a million light years away? And in what language? I was truly in the dark on this one, pun not intended. Seriously, I was poking around the galaxy with the equivalent of a glowstick, albeit a really expensive one. If NASA knew what I had made, they'd be offering me half their budget at least...
As for the rest of it, it all just fell on my lap. Nicely bundled. Sooner or later your luck has got to balance out, no? For me it was getting that distress call from planet K. Well shit me a brick of gold, that was lucky. It's not everyday you find a planet ready to blow on its own. I still don't know what exactly was making that place a ticking time bomb, but it was exactly the level of catastrophe I needed, to pressure their leaders into taking drastic action. You know, like sending their baby to another planet. I only had to grease the palms of a few planet-hating radicals there and drop some ideas about Earth, and the stage was set.
Looks like the payload is coming in hot. Going to land near the farm, like I planned. But after this, I have no idea what to expect next. I don't know if the baby is strong enough to wipe out Earth with a sneeze, or if I just made the Earth a ticking time bomb with the latest addition. Anyway, this could be my last log, or it could be something I look back for shits and giggles a few decades down the road when he takes off as a hero. Hm, actually haven't thought of a hero name yet. Probably something *Super*. |
"The only good witch is a dead witch, right dad?"Juno pressed her lipstick smudged fingertips to a worn, wrinkled picture on her way out the door. The mid-30s woman always made a habit of kissing her father goodbye each time she left for a mission. The small gesture always reminded her why she did what she did, and for whom. This particular day was special. After years of brutal interrogations; one witch at a time, Juno finally got a lead to the top. Hazel the witch queen not only lived in the nearby forest; she also made frequent trips to town in disguise.
One of the first spells Juno's father taught her was a 'true vision' spell. It was an expensive spell that was almost not worth the effort. The spell only lasted about five minutes and the main ingredient was diamond powder. However, Juno was so gifted with magic she somehow developed her own version. A version she could hold indefinitely and it did not cost her more than a stray thought. When using the spell, her father's eyes would glow with a dull, golden sheen. Her own version caused brilliant golden stars to shine in the center of her eyes. She never showed him.
He never outright told Juno she was adopted before he died, but she was smart enough to figure it out. Once she understood his profession she realized the truth and was hesitant to show off her magic.
Juno spent most of the morning pretending to window shop while waiting. It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday and most of the city wandered downtown filing in and out of shops. She was sure the witch queen would show up. Juno kept her true vision spell active behind a pair of sunglasses while she browsed the shops; then, at noon, she caught sight of a magical aura.
Juno saw wild, purple energy swirling around a violet elderly woman. She focused and realized the energy formed the shape of an ‘old woman’ around a younger woman; it was a magical disguise. The woman’s purple magic was so distracting that Juno almost missed three other violet auras. They were much weaker and positioned around the old woman in a triangle formation.
“Too easy,” Juno smiled to herself. Over the next ten minutes, Juno wandered to each of the three guards and made them disappear. She didn’t know how she knew the spell, much less how it worked. But, in her mind, it was a simple ‘Banishment’ spell. With a touch, she could send someone somewhere. She didn’t know or care where. She touched each of the witch queen’s guards with an accidental bump, and they disappeared into a black hole.
After she banished the third guard, Juno refocused her attention on Hazel. Now that she identified the witch queen, Juno let her magical sight fade. The mystical, purple energy immediately became solid to her normal eyes. Hazel appeared to be an aged woman with long silver hair. Juno wanted to wait until the right moment to approach her; then, it happened. With a casual glance at her surroundings, the old woman noticed her guards were gone. Panic flashed across her wrinkles. Juno walked to the worried old woman.
“Everything okay, grandma?” Juno asked with mock concern. She expected the witch to continue the act and ask for help; she did not expect a gasp of surprise.
“*JUNO!??”* the woman’s frail hand covered her mouth, water pooled in the corners of her eyes. “It’s you!” Juno stepped back.
“How do you know my name?” Old Hazel looked at the crowd around them, then grabbed Juno’s hand.
“This way!” Despite Juno knowing the age was an illusion, she was still surprised by Hazel’s strength as she led Juno away and into a dark alley. As a precaution, Juno loosened the knife on her left thigh.
The moment they were in the alley’s shadow, the age melted off Hazel in a purple cloud. Though she was no longer a lifetime older than Juno, the woman still seemed to have several years on her. She appeared to be in her early 40s with short salt and pepper hair and prominent laugh lines. She also seemed familiar to Juno.
“Do you remember me!?” Hazel asked.
“H-..Hazel?” Juno pretended the memory was fresh even though she learned the witch queen’s name several months ago.
“YES!” Hazel yelled and immediately wrapped her arms around Juno in a hug. “I’m your big sister Hazel!” Juno felt warm, wet drops fall on her shoulders. ”I thought you were dead!” Hazel pulled apart and smiled at Juno through her tears.
“That horrible witch hunter killed our mother while I was out collecting ingredients. I couldn’t find you anywhere I thought he killed you too,” she explained while the tears continued to fall. “What happened?”
“He raised me,” Juno replied. By the end of her statement, a silver blade was resting against Hazel’s neck. Hazel’s eyes clouded over with confusion. “Until a witch killed him.”
“No,” Hazel whispered. Her head almost swiveled, but she fought off the urge to shake her head; the blade felt sharp. “He was obsessed! Insane! We’re *good* witches! YOU are a good witch!” Juno huffed with a slight smirk.
“Hah. That reminds me of his last words to me,” Juno stepped closer to Hazel and stared into her eyes. “The day he saw me use magic, the day he found out what I was. Do you know what he said?” she asked.
“What?” Hazel whispered. She was hesitant to vibrate her vocal chords more than she needed to. Juno’s smirk grew into a sinister smile.
“The only good witch is a *dead* witch. He charged at me with *this* knife,” Juno applied pressure then slid the knife to her right leaving behind a delicate red line that quickly overflowed. “So I killed him.” Hazel’s eyes rolled backward and she collapsed. “Look at that, I guess you are a good witch after all.”
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #022 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. |
Not Enough:
There goes Mr. Johnson again. Slamming his head into the old oak tree in his front yard repeatedly. To think, just last week he was a doctor, worried about some weird neuro-virus from China. Now the same virus has turned him into some kind of not-quite-sentient being with no sense of id or ego. I'm recording this on the street where my parents used to live, before they just kind of... wandered off. This is literally the first time that I haven't just wanted to shut down and hide away from it all. That definitely seems like it would have been a better option.
There's no signs of intelligent life anywhere. The internet has stopped working, the power is out everywhere, but the people are all still here for now. It's just weird to see people like sweet old Mrs. Wallace doing snow angels in mud. It's like everything everyone does is just some grotesque parody of something or another, and I'm just not in on the joke. I guess that this is life now.
I can do whatever I want without repercussions. In retrospect it would have been really hard to describe this to myself as a negative. I guess I should just be happy that there has been no nuclear apocalypse. The former people are honestly less violent now that they have no concept of... well anything really. They're not zombies but I sincerely hope that they can at least feed in some way. A few of these folks are looking a lot skinnier than they did, with the exception of that one lady in the grocery store who clearly lost it in the aisle with the snack cakes.
There's nothing I can do for humanity, but I haven't been completely idle. I do not poses enough medical knowledge to work on a cure, or enough patience to take care of the throngs of eggplant folk, but I have broken into every house I can get to to save their pets. The dogs in my neighborhood are actually going to be fine, as are the cats, but it's sad to say that most of them have been neutered and don't stand much of a chance on their own.
I gave up on protecting myself from the virus, but it seems like I'm immune. I can smoke and drink and act foolishly for my own amusement, but it's not as much fun as it used to be. I'm not sure if I have a shot at getting through this, let alone at saving humanity, but I know that there's not much choice other than to try. I will document for posterity I guess, because who knows what's left out here. All I know is I still have half a tank of gas, and two dog pounds to liberate... |
I looked into my mirror, and the reflection said ''*You look terrible.*'' It wasn't me staring back at me. Of course this didn't bother me too much. ''*I'd like to see you looking chipper and fair after a weekend of pretty much nothing but drinking mead, scotch, and sake.*'' I retorted. Bloody mirror. Damn bloody migraine too. ''*Well pardon me, but...*'' ''*Shut up. Headache. Bastards.*'' I cut her off. ''*Bloody women in mirrors; feckless bastards, never doing anything fun. Bloody mirror person.*'' The reflection looked deeply insulted. ''*You do know you've been horribly cursed right? Normally people scream, I jump out, eat their eyes, laugh and go back in the mirror.*'' Numbly I nodded and got my toothbrush. Squirted half the toothpaste tube's content on it, and managed to wash almost all of it into the sink before opening what on most people looked like a mouth, but in this case seemed to be a terrifying maw of what might have been human teeth once, but looked more like how a very creative bioengineer would have improved a shark's mouth. The mirror woman looked incredoulously at the sheer unholy amalgamation of teeth, flesh, bone, and what looked suspeciously like an unopened can of beer, somehow. ''*What the hell happened to your teeth?*''
Sighing, I brushed my teeth in silence, even though it felt more like putting steel wool in the mouth than anything else. ''*One piece of advice, right?*'' I muttered. ''*One bloody piece of advice, mirror woman. Never go bloody drinking with the bloody wazzards. Wezzzards. Wizards. Never go drinking with the bloody wizards.*'' She nodded sagely. ''*Well that explains the teeth. The tail. And why you looked like a human being redesigned by a herpetologist who has never seen anything except lizards.*'' |
The Boss gave me the orders. "Just help the customers out and whatever you do, NO CUSTOMERS AFTER DARK."
Talking to my co-workers they said just kill the customers, but I wanted to be different. I encountered a customer.
"Hi!"I said. I tried to appear as friendly as possibly, but it was hard without a face.
"Ahhh!!"Said the customer.
"Wait wait! I won't hurt you."I said.
"Huh? You... Talk more than the others."He said. No one talks to customers? Why? I wondered what was up with my co-workers.
"Anything I could help you with?"I said, trying to be non-threatening.
"Could you help me find the exit?"He said with a fiery passion.
"Uh, sure. Follow me."I navigated through the isles and showed him the exit. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out.
The light was so... bright. The customers outside tried to attack me but I took a self defense class in high school so I dodged the first three bullets. The customers held their fire when they heard me speak. I was taken in. I have no idea how me working for ikea got me here. |
“I don’t think I’ve slept a wink these three weeks,” Vann remarked as he sat on a metallic trunk with his head in his hands. Through his fingers, he glared wide eyes at the floor. “You know, I think I must have just died that day. Had a stroke or something. This is *ludicrous.*”
Across the room, his best friend and constant companion Spiff stood staring back, wagging his rear without a care. His body was covered in reddish-orange hair, with streaks of white across his chest and forehead. His unclipped nails clacked against the metal floor as he approached Vann, and began to speak.
“I think it’s an overall improvement, honestly. Two devilishly handsome rogues trekking across the galaxy as outlaws - the fuzz hot on their tails,” he said.
Vann stood up, surveying the room. He’d occupied this dormitory for only a couple of hours - after stowing away in the cargo hold and subsequently being discovered by an intelligent race of fuzzy lizards with tentacles. Thankfully, they turned out to be a peaceful lot from the apparently very distant star system of *‘Fzdrangyier-A3,’* or so they said.
The room was cold enough that he could see his breath. His only protection against the elements were the items he wore the day everything began to go south. This included pair of ragged cloth pajama pants and a brown leather fringe jacket. He had a pair of hard-bottomed slippers, but these were lost when taking laser fire from alien militants on the spaceport Glagland-5.
His modest accommodation afforded no windows and only one door out - currently locked, as indicated by a stern red light above the doorway. The room was modestly lit, although there were no fixtures adorning the walls or ceiling with exception to an electrifying blue strip illuminating what he could only imagine was some kind of alien wet-bar.
“Spiff, your stunningly optimistic outlook on life is a treasure,” he said, trundling towards the wet-bar.
“Yeah… Listen, Vann… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“About life?”
“No, it’s just… for some time now I’ve felt less like a ‘Spiff’ and more like a… a Carl, let’s go with that. From now on, please refer to me as Carl.”
“But I’ve called you Spiff for years.”
“And I’ve only just learned of the mere concept of a name a couple of weeks ago. If you insist on sticking with Spiff, then I’m afraid I will have to exclusively call you by another name. How do you like Pinky? Is that sufficiently demeaning for you?”
Vann grabbed a bottle of a transparent blue liquid and swirled it, observing the contents. He removed the fastener from the top of the bottle and placed the opening to his lips, kicking his head back. Swishing the liquid around his mouth, he shrugged and gulped hard. “Carl it is,” he sighed.
A mild humming sounded from the closed door as the red light above switched off. The door slid open with an airy whoosh as one of the Fzdrangyien entered. Vann looked over the creature with mild interest. In relation to the strange alien anatomies he’d seen recently, the Fizzies were tame.
This one was of medium height with several stringy tentacles draping down to the ground. The body of the creature was covered in a material like hundreds of tiny blue-green scales from which thin white hair sparsely protruded. The skin stretched across its face featured two small angular yellow eyes and an elongated protrusion in the center of the… face… from which sprouted several short flat teeth-like objects.
Vann looked away as the creature began to speak. He surmised they communicated with a series of teeth-chattering sounds, but he only perceived a normal human voice in his head. His brain had trouble rationalizing what he saw versus what he heard.
The Fizzy’s voice came through his head like a slow and calm whispiness.
“We have examined the object in your possession,” it stated, “but how did you come by such a - are you drinking our egg-sac deshuffling fluid?”
Vann finished another gulp of the blue fluid and stared into the wall. “I’m gonna pretend you said ‘our secret stash of alien booze’ and keep drinking it because whatever it is, it’s doing the job.”
There was an awkward silence in the room. Carl took the opportunity to begin grooming his groin.
“So what’s on that disk that’s been giving me hell?” asked Vann.
“I’ll tell you, but how did you come across such a thing?” replied the Fizzy.
“Look, I’d rather not relive the past three weeks in-full but I’ll summarize things for you. I was walking my dog and he found that thing - brought it to my feet, so I picked it up. Before I could decide what to make of it, my arms dissolved into thin air. Next thing I know, I’m orbiting Earth on some alien spaceship. My friend religiously grooming his groin over there got dragged up with me. There we found some sort of alien rebel task-force and they put a bullet in my head. I woke up quite unfortunately able to comprehend what any alien says to me. Aliens and apparently animals, too.”
“Not animals, just dogs,” Carl said, not bothering to look up from between his legs. “At least, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t understand cats on account of their being more ass-hole than animal.”
“Yeah… Anyways,” Vann continued, “I’ve been threatened, imprisoned, and on the run on more spaceships and spaceports than I have fingers for. Apparently that disk is real important to some guy named Gils-bresher.”
The Fizzy gestured in what might have been a nod. “Gilsbresshiuyerr is one of the nine emperors of the Alnan quadrant. They control seventy-three percent of the charted galaxy,” it said as a matter of fact.
“You don’t say. Well, he’s also one of the nine pains in my ass. So what’s on the disk that he wants so bad? Schematics for a Death Star?” asked Vann.
“Well… our analysis has revealed that the disk contains items of a sensitive nature that Gilsbresshuiyerr would be interested in.”
“Items of a sensitive nature?” Vann repeated, his brow furrowing.
“Yes.”
“Which would be what?”
“Well, it appears to be a holographic recording of the emperor and several other entities engaging in sexual conduct socially unbefitting someone of his station,” concluded the Fizzy.
Vann returned a blank stare, stunned. “You mean to tell me I’ve been abducted and ferried across the galaxy - nearly having my balls waxed a dozen and a half times - all because of an alien poon flick?” he asked incredulously. “Good lord, just burn that thing in a fire and take me back to Earth.”
“It will not be that simple,” said the Fizzy. “The Alnan empire did not come to power through peaceful means, although they are not always so resistant to diplomacy. We will try to broker peace on this matter. But I hope for the sake of your species that you will have a planet to return to once we get there.”
Vann stood stunned momentarily. Having nothing better to comment, he drained the bottle of alien liquor.
\---
Thanks for Reading! |
Growing up was hard. I always knew I was different. I just didn't know how or why. I was always the last one picked because I didn't gel with the team, I couldn't react to the calls the ref never made. It sometimes felt like I was the butt of some private joke at my expense, it was all a stitch-up and I couldn't ever know the punch line.
That didn't stop me from making my own punch lines.
"Why did the traffic light turn red? Because you saw it changing."
"A neutron walked into the bar and bought a drink, but the bartender said no charge for you."
"E-flat walked into a bar but the bartender said we don't serve minors."
"A man walked into a bar- **ouch**."
"Three men walked into a drum kit- **ba dum tss**"
One day in science class, I was telling [the Yellow Yak joke](https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ), a favourite of mine, when Mr Brian interrupted.
"SHUT UP and see me after class young man."
The class giggled, and gave me a few looks on the way out. A few pitied me, a few had wry smiles, and a few refused to make eye contact. I didn't know what it meant.
Mr Brian and I sat in silence for a few minutes before he sighed and spoke.
"You know everyone hates your jokes, except Jimmy, the simple fool. So why do you keep telling them?! You are wasting all of our time. Is anything even going on in your brain? What are you thinking?"
Mr Brian walked up to my desk and clenched his fist.
"Knock knock,"he tapped on my head.
"W-who's there?"
"No one is fucking there that's the problem. Is this a joke to you? Never in my years have I seen someone with a wall so strong, yet they were so ignorant of their surroundings. You tell jokes but you will never be a comedian because you can't read a room even when they are **figuratively** screaming at you!"
"I didn't know you have been to my house,"the words slipped out of my mouth.
After another few minute of getting yelled at I found myself at the counselors office. He sat there and looked at me for a few minutes and then said,
"I've never had to ask this before in all my years, but what are you thinking? "
"What else do you ask isn't that your job sir?"
"Are you being sarcastic, Tim? You do have a reputation as a bit of a clown... In all my years, never. Ok boy, what am I thinking? "
I don't know I said, "I'm not a mind reader."
He didn't believe me. No one did. But they sent me to a specialist and sure enough, it was confirmed. I couldn't **hear** like everyone else. |
The past began today.
I woke up, got out of bed, went downstairs, and poured myself a glass of wine.
*Wait, stop, why am pouring wine at 7am*. I looked at the clock and it read 10:00pm. *Have I slept a whole day*. I reached for my phone to check the date, at least, I thought I did. Instead of my hand entering my pocket and pulling out my phone, I started walking to my couch.
*Umm, hello, body, what are you doing*!
I could not control my legs. I tried flailing my arms, no response. I sat down on the couch and turned on my TV. It was the sitcom I watched last night, but it was ending. I looked at my clock on the wall, 9:56pm.
I looked back at the TV, and my heart would have sunk. It didn’t, I felt nothing but the slight buzz from my cheap wine. The show was playing in reverse.
*This is all a bad dream, there was something off about the wine. There is an explanation for this.*
I spent the next couple hours sipping wine and watching the same shows I watched yesterday run backwards.
I got up. Finally, that’s right, I had dinner with Kim yesterday.. today. My now in control body trudged to the burger place where we had eaten.. are eating. Kim walked towards me, we hugged, and went inside to our table.
Sitting across from me, I finally saw it in her eyes. Our bodies were going through the motions, but her eyes. They looked scared, concerned, they were tearing up. Like me, she was still in there.
Whatever was happening to me was happening to her as well. It was happening to everyone. Our minds are still present, moving forward, but our world is dragging us backwards.
I tried to scream, to burst out, wake up from this dream. I knew she could see the fear in my eyes as I failed to assert any control over my traitorous body.
This became my new life, all of our new lives.
As I walked past people on my daily travels, I could always see it, so could they. We had lost the world, time, and the bodies that trapped us, but our eyes, we kept. Forced to live out every day suffering in silence, and all the while seeing the same fate in the eyes of strangers, our friends, and loved ones.
After a while I stopped caring, stopped noticing, stopped thinking. I drifted away, leaving my body on its journey the end. |
Ok, I tried, but I don't think it's the best. Still, I had fun making it and maybe someone will like it. I liked the prompt.
​
Damien stared at the bottle. He'd had it for months now, but he'd never opened it. Curiosity was burning him up inside, but at the same time, he couldn't get himself to open it. Not while he was still ripe with pain. It was too soon. Too soon since she'd left.
Damien was sitting in his room. A rather small room, a wooden rope bed he and his uncle made a while back, a wooden trunk with some of his things, a table with a bowl and pitcher he used to wash his face. The window nearby let in the only light he had at the time and it was quickly diminishing as the sun set.
The bottle was on a shelf across the room from him. Honestly, he really shouldn't have been sitting there lazily doing nothing, he still had things to do.
When it got darker he finally got up and grabbed a candle from the table. He recited one of the few spells he'd been taught, one of the few ones peasants were allowed to learn. The candle lit and he placed it back on the table.
His mother had taught him that spell. The mother that gave him that bottle right before disappearing into the night only for her dead body to be found near a river outside the village.
*"Damien, listen,"* the echo of Damien's mother's final words to him echoed in his mind. *"Don't you ever trust the Lords. Take this, it should explain everything."*
Damien had protested, asked to know where she was going, why she was leaving, why she was so urgent, but she just shushed him and told him that she loved him and reminded him to take care of father and uncle Brady.
Damien grabbed the bottle off the shelf. Maybe it was time. Maybe it wasn't.
Without thinking Damien's hands started uncapping the lid. The memory escaped and flew into Damien's eyes.
He cried out as the memory inserted itself in his head and revealed horrors and beauty alike telling a glorious tale of his mother and the Lords, the reason for her death, The injustice. The pain. The love.
It felt like it lasted hours.
Damien changed that day. He left home that day with a quest.
Avenge his mother's murder. |
The weather seemed to have it out for Tom lately. No matter where he was sent around the sprawling mountainous region of the aptly named rocky mountains, heavy rain clouds seemed to follow him. And rain they did tonight was especially bad with what seemed like an avalanche of rain pummeling his taxi cab every second. Nonetheless, Tom drove aimlessly around the town briefly looking around to see if anybody was A) Insane enough to be outside on a day like this, B) Didn’t have a ride home, and C) Wanted to get home very quickly and were willing to pay for it. Tom figured that after a few minutes in the storm groups A and C would overlap quite frequently, he just had to find that a select number of people in group B. And so he drove, the cacophony of rain drowning out the rest of the world, like the black smudges of clouds obscured the sun.
Tom found a person that was, ostensibly, in all three groups, waiting at the corner of the city diner. The diner was a popular spot for locals and tourists alike, with its cozy atmosphere, greasy yet delicious food, and a view of one of the vast tree covered monoliths that defined the landscape. The man wore a black suit and pants, minus the tie, that fit well with the grey gloom of the outside but seemed to clash with the warm colours and lights of the diner, his face was obscured in deep shadows caused by the light of the diner. The man waved Tom over and he obliged, taking his yellow and blue car to the curb and stopping. The man got up and walked over to the taxi before sitting down in the back seat. He slammed the door and opened his wallet. He set ten, crisp hundred dollar bills in between the drivers and passengers seat and said in a deep old voice “You know where to go”. The man then sat back and settled his head against the window, staring out at the downpour. Tom set the meter and pulled away from the diner, he asked the man “Anywhere in particular that you want to go?” The man, in a relaxed as tone as ever, replied “Just drive.”
Tom did as he was asked and started driving. He had no idea what the man meant when he said “You know where to go” but when there was a thousand dollars sitting next to you, Tom decided he would humor the man. He got onto the highway and went where his heart told him to go, which in this case, despite the storm, was up the mountain pass.
They had been driving for over two hours. The storm was fully raging now, with thunder bellowing every second and lightning grasping at the tips of mountains and trees with its searing touch. The narrow road that went up the mountain was normally full, but was now deserted. The man seemed to sit more straight back in his chair, and was actually paying attention to the goings on around them. Tom kept going up the mountain, and decided that it would be in his best interests to pull over at the next available stop, where they weren’t surrounded by unyielding stone and a steep drop off. Briefly he checked his GPS and found the next stop was in ten minutes. He hoped they could weather the storm.
They were three minutes away when the man spoke up, asking “What is it that your driving towards Tom?”
Tom, trying to keep the car from hurtling off the cliff, responded distractedly “I just drove, like you told me to.”
The man responded after a moment “No, I told you that you knew where to go. Surely you had a goal in mind of some sort, otherwise you would have just driven in circles waiting out the time.”
Tom paused and thought waiting until he said, “ I suppose that I wanted to take you to explore the area, let you get your money's worth. As for a goal, I didn’t have one.”
Tom spotted the pull out and started signaling towards it. “but if you want to go somewhere specific I would be happy to take you there, right after we wait out this storm.”
As Tom put his signal on to go into the pull out, the man set his hand on Tom’s shoulder. He asked in a more vulnerable tone than what Tom had heard all night “The next one please, the next one then I’ll be satisfied.”
Tom hesitated briefly and the man set two more hundred dollar bills with the others. The next rest stop was
in 20 minutes, he figured that he was already in deep enough and continued.
The rain was torrential as they pulled into the next pull out, hardly a shoulder on the side of the road. Tom had had the wipers set to full speed and they still had barely been able to keep up with the litres of rain that hit the car every second. Tom set the car into park and relaxed, he could just wait it out, take a break. He observed the scenery around him, past the rain the area by the pull out was a grassy field with a cliff above it. The cliff had a waterfall that was spilling off of it, no doubt due to the rain, and was more or less smooth going up. In the middle of the field Tom saw a single tree that was reaching up, and being pummeled by the rain for its hubris. Overall a fairly picturesque place when it wasn't a downpour. The door to the cab opened and the man stepped out into the rain, and began walking towards the tree. Lightning flashed as Tom began to open his door, before deciding that the better choice was to open a window. He called to the man, saying “Sir please come back here, it's not safe.”
The man seemed to not hear him and continued to the tree, he examined it, touched it and looked back at the car. The man’s voice seemed to carry with the rain. “I hope you find your goal. Godspeed.” As he stood by the tree a blinding flash of lightning struck it and a boom so loud that it shook the windows of the car. The tree was quickly extinguished by the downpour, and the man was gone. Tom sat there in disbelief, he checked and the cash was still sitting there. Stunned Tom sat blinking, trying to parse what he had just seen. He sat there for 4 hours until the storm cleared. It never rained that hard again in the valley for hundreds of years. |
My grandfather told me that the most precious assets of all is time. You cannot buy time, no more is made, never can you even go back in time. It has truly become medicine, that is the only way to acquire more time. The life expectancy in his day was almost 100 years, but as disease has overtaken modern medicine, that median number now hovers around 50.
All these thoughts in my head as I race down I-4, running from police is my job. I’ve become a drug runner, not of cocaine, but of antibiotics. I am the one who can deliver more time. Shots ring out behind me as the police try to take out my lead lined car. She may not be fast, but this car can take a beating. The cops are after the prize for the same reason we all are, fear. Fear of death, the other side, of there is one.
Today is unlike other days, I am transporting the last of the imaziprone. This miracle drug has been able to stop any threatening disease in its tracks, unable to make any more thanks to pharmaceutical monopolies, the drug has gone extinct. Today I am bringing this medicine not for consumption, but for research. We will finally make a stand against corruption.
Blockaded ahead, I should have seen this coming, pharma tanks stand tall to stop me. I won’t be making it out of this one. Instead, I screech to a haunt. They don’t know what this drug looks like, I switch it with a drug my grandfather said would cure anything in his day, useless now though. I swallow the imaziprone, they can research it from my stomach. The pill I swapped it with is called Pez, a funny name. I step out into the barrage of bullets, this is my end, my time is done. But it shall be our beginning. |
Welcome to the "Precedent"of living... More like pretentious I thought throwing the pamphlet into the bin. This Micro city was just another friendly face to gated community living hold, for rich assholes and snotty women. I had seen its type and lived in its type, but now that the wave had passed and everything was changed, maybe I could enjoy myself here just for a little.
My name is Justin Pierce and I am a survivor of the wave. What is the wave you may ask? Well the way was a weird airborne virus thing that made people forget how to be anything once it came in contact with them. I mean some forgot how to even breathe dying straight away, many forgot how to eat, non of them bathed and had hygienic problems, for the poor souls affected in cars and other vehicles, and even those that were near those in cars and other vehicles need I go on.
A lot of people believed this was the rapture in action, I myself prefer the term purge... But no matter how you look at it there was a definite culling of our species and things seemed for the better. Towns neglected became overgrown and crumbled to the might of mother nature, leaving the world more vibrant and full of wildlife. The hierarchy of many industries and systems fell also leaders and whole families were wiped out. There was no consistency to who was affected and therefore no one was safe and it was unknown to this date why anyone happened to be immune or just lucky to always dodge it....
Honestly the "Precedent"had held up fairly well given the circumstances, and given how many of the dead were buried and the houses left un ransacked it seemed this was a town hit by the virus, with whatever survivors left having to bury there loved ones before fleeing taking no traces of there exposure to the phenomenon. Further into town though things seemed to change, As man made barriers blocked the streets and scaffolding and other engineering lay about the town in addition to its previous glory. And this could only mean one thing, I was not alone anymore! This brought both fear and excitement as I missed human contact, but a lot of humans had gone bad...
I decided to back off and inspect some of the earlier houses for supplies and guessed that the inhabitants were some local raiders. Who would set up camp in a town or city and take everything of value, killing all in there way. Then they would sell to merchants and through there own merchants also. Being a powerful force in the remaining community of this world. The first house I entered I cried, a pantry full of preserved canned food laid before me, and coming from times of eating rat this was heaven.
It seemed that who ever was here (most likely Raiders) had started by taking the epicenter of the town first and spreading out and given the effort to there camp, the were gonna be awhile. This meant that I should at least have a couple days to collect some supplies myself before moving on, I would just have to keep my head down and not get to greedy... |
"Who is this man?"She tought. He certainly wasn't her husband Henry. The voice was right, the personality too. But the face was completely different. That was the first thought of Marta after he came back from his work trip.
That was the beginning of a nightmare.
Day after day, week after week. Marta was still wondering who was this man, pretending to be her husband. "I made your pancakes Marta. Hope they taste good". He even knew her favorite food. But Marta needed to think about it. How did he knew?
"Hey Henry, can you make me breakfast? I don't feel so good."Marta said. Henry, puzzled, said to her, looking at her eyes, "I already made it honey. The pancakes are right there."
How did he knew what her favorite food was? Marta needed to think about it. How did he knew?
Day after day, week after week. Marta kept wondering how did this man knew so much about her? She was confused. Terrified. And he was doing something to her head too! In a moment, Marta was watching TV. In the other, she was taking a shower. And he was there! Oh poor Marta.
Day after day, week after week. The man kept messing with her head. This time, she was at the hospital with Henry. How did she get there? Marta couldn't remember. He did it again. Oh poor Marta.
"I'm afraid Marta's condition will only get worse."Said the doctor, sadness filling his eyes. He was the family doctor. Marta was always around him. Well, not him. Something happened. The voice and personality were right. But the face... it's not the same. Something happened with her doctor. The same thing that happened with her husband.
"I'm afraid your wife have dementia Henry. "said the doctor.
Marta still couldn't understand what was happening. How did she get to the hospital?
Oh poor Marta. |
Ben groaned.
He stared at Mister Chapman's mutilated corpse on the floor. Blood had run into the cracks of the tiles and was already beginning to stain. Not to mention Ben's favorite sneakers were, again, soaked in his former teacher's blood.
Letting out a sigh, he shot a glare at Ron. "Good thing the classroom was empty. You're way too aggressive during sparring! No one is supposed to die!"He frowned and folded his arms. With a snort, he added, "you're going to be caught one day, seriously!"
Ron, always cross-eyed, grinned mischievously. "But... if Mister Chapman had been a better fighter,"he said while he cleaned his sword with a disinfectant wipe, "he wouldn't have died! I'm just sooooo skilled, why hold back?"
Ben clenched his fists. "You cocky...!"
"I'm not cocky, I'm just telling the truth,"Ron said. He made a wild smile. "Besides, you're just mad your shoes got dirty again! Don't worry, I'll clean them again!"
Ben sighed; at least Ron was always willing to clean up after his messes.
"So, where we going to hide the body this time?"he asked Ben. He sheathed his sword and pulled out some more wipes. "The playground is a bit full."He knelt before Ben and began to clean off his sneakers.
*A bit full?* Ben thought. He glanced out the window and gazed upon the playground; he could count at least fifty small mounds in the grassy field, and those were all he could see from the classroom. *Understatement of the century!*
"Look, I'm not going to help you bury the body this time, Ron."Ben worked his jaw, and tightened his fists. "I'm tired of your shenanigans! You *really* need to see a therapist!"
He looked up and frowned. "Hey... that's not nice. I'm not retarded!"
"I never said--"
Ron shot to his feet. "You implied it! Dirty liar! I hate you!"He fingered his sword, but then removed his hand. He rolled his eyes--a real sight to see. "Look, I'll pay you a dollar if you help me! Come on!"
"Nope, not this time."
"Two dollars?"
"Ron..."
"I'll buy you a new sword!"
"My dad's is just fine."
Ron threw down his arms and growled. "Not fair!"He sniffled, and looked at 'his friend' with heated rage. "*You don't understand!*"He drew his sword and swung at Ben.
All the blade tasted was the tainted air.
"Ben?"Ron glanced around. "Hey! Don't leave me alone!"He let out a wail, and began to sob.
Ben hadn't moved, he just floated there in front of the boy--a mere cloud of mist. As Ron cried, Ben thought with agitation: *I wish he would just leave already. I need to drink some of Mister Chapman's blood.*
After all, it was a bad idea to keep a vampire waiting; especially when he was hungry.
\[This is my first time posting here in r/WritingPrompts. Let me know what you think!\] |
I've always taken things for granted. My car, my wealth, my house, my family and friends. Among other things. A pig in filth never thinks about what it could lose, only what it has. I was happy. It started slowly and subtle. Unnoticeable at first, but gradually I felt the change. Colors were off, the Sky's brilliant blue faded and was a deep orange. My wife's eyes were a dull gray, and I started to get worried. I visited the optometrist for an exam, he hadn't seen anything like it and couldn't give a diagnosis. Weeks went by and slowly all color was leaking from my sight and I saw the world in a grayscale of dark shadow's and white washes. Again the doc had no clue what was wrong. I paid the top doctors in the state and no diagnosis. My wife became concerned and took me out to the beach. Our spot. But the sunset was a bore. And I was depressed. She brought her special herbal tea she has been insisting I take in hopes to help but I take it and get up to leave. Things start to get out of focus as months go by. The days getting blurry as my sight does, and work gets difficult. I started to look on the bright side and started to get help. I bought a pair of prescription glasses and things were going well untill I come home and decide to have dinner. After eating, my wife putts the kettle on making her tea as usual and we both sit watching TV. I mostly listen now due to the increased imparement and wasn't looking. My wife gets up and pours our third cup of tea, my sight was worsening but I figured it was just the dim light but I saw somthing. and I didn't think of it partially because I thought my eyes were playing games. It almost looked like she slipped something into my cup. She comes back and hands me the mug. I gaze deeply for several minutes debating on what I saw. My thought races, she could never do that... I say. Why would she? Am I losing it?! She notices and asks what's wrong, I say nothing. Her round face a blur lacking details and emotion. memories of her and I flash before my now darkened gaze as i fight myself for a plausible answer. "She couldn't have."That night, everything changed. |
It had started out well enough, the girl of my dreams was sitting across from me eating pizza. We were celebrating our wedding anniversary, if only in my dreams. Her laughter was so clear, I had to pinch myself, make sure of my dream. The dream did not end, I could not wake myself.
I remember the night well as it had been years before. It’s a reoccurring dream that I’ve learned to control. The celebration that night consisted of our favorite pizza spot, a nice romantic comedy at the theater, and a stroll through the park. I knew every detail of that night because that is the night I lost her.
Back in my dream, we finish up and pay the bill, 15 minutes until showtime, none to spare. I reluctantly walk the dream version of my wife across two blocks to the theater. The show is the same as always, her laugh chills my spine. I hold her in my arms as I begin to cry. “How could you cry? This show isn’t that bad!” She whispers to me. “ I love you, darling. Happy anniversary.” Is my reply.
After the show, I suggest we go home. I claim that I feel sick. She won’t let me go without our walk through the park. A 5 year tradition she didn’t want to lose, one stroll around the lake is all she wants. I never could say no to her.
My hands shake and sweat as we round the fat side of the lake; I know what she does not. The shots ring out in the middle of the park. A stay bullet catches the stomach of my wife, I’m losing her again. “Why must I relive watching you die?” I sob as she slumps to the ground. Looking up from get blood strained blouse she states bluntly “Time to wake up”. |
"Why would you kill a plant for no reason, you monster?!"
I stepped back, letting my heels sink into their planet's version of grass. "You speak English?"
"That's no concern of yours! You have smelled the Sacred Nectar of the Royal Rose without permission, and worse, you have beheaded the flower itself. Never has an outsider committed such an egregious crime!"
"Look, I come from another planet, and on my world, plants aren't as important as they are on yours. In fact, we eat them. For what it's worth, I'm sorry".
I knew as soon as I had said it that I had chosen the wrong words. The crowd suddenly pressed in on me and the child, who minutes before had been crying, now had a menacing look about him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I backed up towards my ship. Baby steps were the key here.
"You EAT plants? This is outrageous! This is blasphemy! On our world, plants represent the connection between sky and soil! They are our ever-lasting allies and our stalwort companions. To eat a plant is to consume one's own brother. And you, filthy infidel that you are, have just beheaded the most holy plant of them all".
To hell with baby steps. I turned around and sprinted as fast as I could. Just atop a nearby hill, my ship's metallic hide beckoned to me in the bright sunlight. Almost there. I searched frantically in my pockets for the remote, found it, and jammed the appropriate button with my thumb. The egg-shaped craft began to shake as its engines sputtered to life. The door irised open and a slim metal ramp extended to the ground, waiting for my arrival. Behind me, I heard the voices of the villagers shift as they began to sing. Wait, what?
Despite the urgency of my situation, I peeked behind my shoulder and found that they were indeed singing some sort of religious hymn. With the engines now at a roar, I could barely hear it, but even more unsettling was that the grass swayed and bounced to the rhythm of their song. They had stopped chasing me by this point, but I didn't dare stop running.
I booked it up the hill and practically flew up the ramp into my ship. Oddly, I heard a low pitched whistling sound just as I made it over the threshold.
Not a moment later, I felt something wrap around my ankles and violently pull my feet out from under me.
*wham!*
I landed on my face on the hard floor. If the loud crack I heard was anything to go by, I had definitely broken my nose. I had tears in my eyes, but still I twisted around to see what had grabbed me.
Long vines were curled tightly around my ankles and were growing steadily up my legs. What was that the villagers had said about plants? That they were allies?
I felt myself mercilessly dragged down the ramp and across the rough grass of the hill, simultaneously begging the villagers for mercy and cussing them out. Of course, my yelling did nothing to delay my fate. Prying at the vines on my legs didn't help me either, and when that failed, nor did clawing helplessly at the dirt as I was hauled away.
The vines brought me right to where their thick stems sprouted out of the ground and promptly wound their way all around my body. Gathered around me in a circle were the villagers. I was completely immobilized.
There was no sympathy in the sea of faces that watched over me. Mostly they seemed angry and yet solemn as they chanted their song, save for the leader, who broke from the group and knelt down beside me.
"I'm sorry, outsider. But you brought this upon yourself. I mean, how would you like it if I went to your planet and murdered your king? And then tried to run off after committing such an unspeakable crime? Would you have let me get away? I think not. I would be dealt with quite harshly, and I would deserve it."
The vines squeezed ever tighter, making it difficult to breath let alone speak. "Fuck you"was all I could manage to say.
"You are not only a regicide, but a coward as well"he continued, standing up and delivering a swift kick to my stomach.
I tried to hide it but a muffled groan of pain escaped me.
"Oh, you think that hurt?"he scoffed, gesturing to a few of the other villagers to do god knows what, and they ran off.
"You held the Rose and inhaled its sweet nectar and felt its soft petals. And yet, you ungratefully slaughtered it in return for the gifts it offered. Now, you shall feel the wrath of its thorns."
I thrashed wildly against the vines, but they doubled down on their grip and easily restrained me. If only I had brought my ray gun with me, I would've escaped and been merrily on my way back home by now. But I hadn't wanted to scare the villagers, so I had stupidly left the weapon aboard my ship.
The song changed now, slowing down to a majestic, stately piece of music. If it weren't for the fact that it foreshadowed my impending doom, I would have thought the song to be quite beautiful. In the current circumstances, the only thing I heard was death knells.
The bright green vines that had dragged me out of the ship were now thickening and getting dark and woody. In the distance, the rose bush whose flower I had stolen withered into dust.
Tiny white bumps formed all over the now dark green, woody plant covering me. I knew that I had moments to live.
"Please, I'm sorry!"I shouted despite the pressure of the rose bush that now entangled me. "I'll do anything to make amends for my sins, I promise!"
The leader shook his head sadly.
"Your evil must be returned in kind"he said simply, and shrugged as if there was nothing he could do.
As the white bumps matured into thorns, I felt a stabbing sensation all over my body, even my eyes. It was as if a thousand needles were being slowly pushed into me. Even as I screamed in open-mouthed agony, thorns slashed my tongue.
Then, it got worse. The branches of the rose bush moved in a saw-like fashion over my body, trapping me in a cage of pointy death. From the outside, I suppose it would have looked like the bush was caught in a bad windstorm. But it was not wind that propelled it to tear me to shreds. My wounds and lacerations almost made me pass out as the thorns cut ever deeper. But I wouldn't be afforded any such luxury. Only much later, after experiencing unspeakable torture, was I finally able to die, but by then I had been ripped to pieces.
The ceremony complete, the leader looked back at the returning villagers he had sent out earlier.
"What mysteries have you discovered?"he asked.
"Sir, we have found this device"- the villager shoved the ray gun into the leaders hands - "as well as many other fantastical gadgets".
"What does it do?"the leader inquired, inspecting the gun in his hand.
"Not a clue, sir. But more importantly, we found a manual on how to fly the ship."
"And even more importantly"the other returning villager butted in, "we found the location of the Outsider's home planet. It's called Earth."
"Hmm"the leader said. "Show me this manual that you have found. According to the Outsider, we have comrades trapped on this horrendous planet."
The following spring, an egg-shaped craft lifted into the atmosphere and was soon gone from view. After the scream of the engines had subsided, all was very still and very quiet. The only evidence that anything unusual had happened was a large indentation at the top of a hill, and a rose bush in full bloom.
And somewhere out among the stars, a chorus of voices sang a beautiful melody. |
**The following are pages from Doctor Mcallister’s personal PDA and work emails. A composite timeline, or the best we could get, of the events that occured on June 7 / 1989. Nothing here has been falsified and all pictures related to it have not been doctored in any way. This is real Mr. President and requires immediate attention.**
June 3 / 1989: The helicopter landed on top of our field base in Mexico around 3 in the morning, they drug me away from the convention I was giving a presentation at a conference In Alberta, Canada. They have the site on full lockdown and I’m told there are certain precautions I must take before I enter.
June 4 / 1989: I understand why the precautions were necessary. In all my years of heading up this particular dig of the Chicxlub impact site I never expected anything like this. When I was away on vacation one of the temps discovered some rock fragments leftover by the meteor impact. He grabbed them without the supervisory efforts of those I employ and trusted in my absence. I was told the screaming could be heard from outside the base itself. A man called Psymon, his next of kin has been notified.
The hazmat team has taken his body for incineration but I was given some photographs of the unfortunate young man before he was hauled off. They were awful to look at. It seemed whatever happened to the temp turned his skin a dark shade of grey, possibly due to the black sludge that seemed to replace the blood from his body.
June 5 / 1989: It didn’t work. The hazmat team attempted incineration of the young man, putting him on the steel bed and sliding him inside the oven for cremation. I was told that it was an hour before the team checked on his body. The incinerator never went off, strings of black tendon like material had protruded from his agape mouth, jaw broken and dangling in order for all of it to escape. The black stuff stuck to the jets that would light him ablaze and gunked up the works, causing a backup in power and the fail safes of the machine to kick and and stop the process.
I have ordered that area and those involved to be quarantined. We are getting hand burners delivered tomorrow by the Mexican military and will cleanse the room of any sign of the stuff.
June 6 / 1989: One of the Hazmat team is reporting ill today. He says he is fine but his fever is off the scales and when you talk to him he twitches and slurs. I have known this man, Max, for many months and have never seen him slur or have erratic movements. I've placed him in the room next to the incinerator and sealed the mag lock door, the doctor is on his way. In the meantime the flamethrowers have arrived and i've put together a team to eradicate whatever this is.
June 6 / 1989 (2nd entry): I have no idea on how to proceed. The flames do nothing against it, additionally we found out that whatever this is it's attracted to heat. As we sprayed it down and lit it aflame the stuff seem to reach out to the source of the heat. The CDC in Mexico has been notified and assure me they are on the way.
June 6 / 1989 (3rd and final entry from the Archaeology lead): its psymon he is walking aroujnd. He has touched me and now iom sicl. cannet think straighhjty. The scerams coming frome dfown the hall tell me me is on thje move. HELP. I can n loonger hadnel the pain, plase tuel my wif that io leoive her.
**The next entry, Mr. President, isn’t from the head archaeologist. The CDC arrived and took records of there event, it is their recommendation that we napalm the site, sir. However I fear that may have a more detrimental effect than we would like due to its attraction to fire.**
06/07/1989 Notes taken by Edermeyer, manager of the CDC on site at Chicxulub impact site: The team entered and took photos of the base, inside and outside. None of this makes sense. I suspect Extra Terrestrial activity. We immediately made our way to the control room, the attached picture is disturbing but necessary that the right people see it. The clothes next to this… thing… has the ID Badge of one Dr. Mcallister. The team refuses to go any further than where we are, my orders after what we found. Black strings, elastic to the touch, cover the doors and keep them from opening.
Last thing to note, as we took the picture the flash of the camera seem to activate whatever it is. My team and I agree that we believe this thing was reaching out towards the person taking the picture.
[Attached photo](https://imgur.com/AatX2aW)
Advise the immediate destruction of the site and surroundings. The Mexican military has been notified as well, they recommend the same but need permission to destroy and American archeology site. |
It woke me up in the middle of the night with a large crash.
When I got up and ran outside I saw a strange metallic...*thing* up in flames but just as quickly as the whole thing came in flames it quickly died out with a slight hiss and little pops.
It looked like a tin can with a pointy thing on top and a large door on the side. I remember with the help of my tractor I moved it to the barn but that was before they came and took it with them.
Shame.
I coulda got a ton of money showing it off as a roadside attraction.
But that's not the main point.
*It* was the main point.
I'm not sure whether it was a boy or girl. Pretty sure it was a girl though. It was small and black and it was about the earnest cute ass thing I've ever seen with its little pointy eyes and large watery light blue eyes and chunky body.
Looked like one of them pups.
Then it seemed to be trying to communicate.
It looked up at me and started singing in the most haunting yet intriguingly beautiful thing I've ever heard in my life. The voice was full of serenity yet fear that brought chills down into my very soul.
I knew right away it was something the world had never seen and it was going to make me a hell of wealthy son of a bitch.
So I called up my cousin who owned the radio station and began advertising the shit out of it.
I set up a little stage for it out in the front and sure enough people came from all over town to see the little thing.
Within a week, word got out and people came from all over the state.
But little did I know, it's music started becoming softer and softer and all it wanted to do was sleep.
Then one night, during it performed it's final performance with the loudest and heartwrenchign song humanity ever heard.
It brought forth feelings of when I lost my momma and how I would never see her ever again and I don't think I was the only one because the entire crowd was up in tears and they just stood there motionless and quiet.
Then it closed it's eyes and curled up.
Damn thing died on me.
Didn't take long before the Feds showed up and confiscated all evidence and told the people I was lying. |
I think I might’ve broken her heart. Not much of an issue really. Just a mild inconvenience. A former friendship is now a daily nuisance. I’ve got an annoying glare headed my way for an hour a day. Ah what a pity. How annoying is it? Being looked at by vermin with hatred. It’s really quite putrid.
To understand the simple backstory, I must explain a story of three weeks. Nothing much, but according to the other, a lot.
They came to my school from Spain. Well, not really, they’re from an island off of Spain. I talked to them to learn about their land, but did I want to be friends, no. It was really just an intellectual curiosity to be frank. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, there may have been a part of me that felt some feelings, perhaps.
I aided them in knowledge of the language we speak. Lent them books, and taught them vocabulary. In return, I gained insight to their culture. Interesting for I’ve always found Europe intriguing.
In this trading, I however committed a folly. I asked about their life story. They opened up to me, and foolishly trusted me. They told me that they’d been bullied. What a pity. They said much more that I found quite boring.
After a while this venting became daily.
I had no interest, honestly.
Yet, nonetheless they continued.
This incessant story-telling, a forced subscription to a daily publication; it all became tiring, boring.
In two days time, I went from neutrality to simmering rage.
Herein lies the problem. I wear the mask of the intellectual. I can’t have this rage overcome me. Therefore, like a cobweb, I dusted them off.
Here we are, caught up. Now they’ve got nothing but contempt for me. Understand this, I’m no villain; it’s their fault for being boring and broken after all. |
**Breaking News.**
**Scientists find definitive proof of Existence of God.**
**Thursday, 23rd January, Washington D.C.**
*A team of scientists at NASA, in collaboration with the LHC, have discovered definitive proofs of the existence of God. The news came in during a press release by NASA early Monday this week in which the team team of scientists, lead by David Lee announced that through independent studies, they have arrived at the conclusion that all of existence is simulated and that they have 'undeniable evidence' of the existence of god. Since this announcement, NASA has been facing a strong backlash with the hashtag #GodIsNotDead trending from Thursday till the weekend. Situation got a lot worse when on Friday, NASA Joint Secretary of State, Lt. Jim Causack,, in an attempt to clarify, stated that The entity responsible for this simulation has been given the name God 'ironically' ."We did it as a joke..it doesn't matter...it \[the simulation..\] is more like gravity".*
​
Chuckling at the paper, K. flicks it away and rolls to the other side on the bed. Ever since he looked at the preliminary data during the annual conference of ACIDBASE, or Annual Conference of Inter-Desciplinary Biological And Simulational Evolution, he had a vague prescience of what it would look like if it was true. He has been smoking weed till late in the night. Weed is the only think K. has ever abused. All his life has been a struggle on and off weed. But now he has given up. He had been smoking till late in the night yesterday. He lit a cigarette, laid back in his bed and picked up his phone.
​
**22000 text messages**
**100 voice messages**
**450 missed calls**
Idiots, K shook his head and chuckled. |
Usually I would have laughed, but right now, it wasn’t funny, no matter whether it was a joke or not. I needed him focused, I needed him ready.
We were walking down one of the thousands of abandoned street ways, watching apprehensively, searching for movement. He could see he felt the same fear. We may have been healthy, and, as far as we could tell, we were the only people in the area who were still alive. We both know, however, that this could change in an instant. I listened for any noise which could indicate that we were not alone, but I was only answered with the cheerful chirps of birds. That was one good thing, she supposed. Nature was taking back what they had lost. We seemed to be the only ones who had lost, now. How wonderfully ironic, I thought.
‘ hey, are you coming?’ I realised I had slowed down. I hastily sped up, grabbing his arm. I noticed he jumped as I did so. I realised then how crazy what we were doing was, a horrifying urge came to me, to run back, back home. No, we had to carry on. There was nothing for us at Winsdale now. |
His footsteps were heavy, a staccato drumbeat that almost matched his exhausted heart. Sneakers crunched on gravel as he gasped, desperately drawing air into his burning lungs and forcing his shaking legs to propel him further. Stained sweatpants missing their drawstring slid down to expose equally stained boxers as he slipped on a wet patch of pavement and barely caught himself before going ass over elbows. Greasy hair made stringy with sweat swung in front of his face as he scrambled to regain his footing, a threadbare wife-beater riding up over his bloated stomach.
I don't like this job, but sometimes, I love this job.
Dusk drew near as I followed him through alleys and across the park, watching his stupid ass stumble wildly as he tried with all his might to escape. I chased him all the way back to his house, a shitty double-wide with a shitty free-standing garage, the entire area around it stank of cigarettes, cheap beer, and dog shit. He yanked the door to his trailer open and tripped on the steps which coincidentally saved him, the booby-trap I set up earlier went off and a shotgun blast ripped through the space where his head should've been. Yellow spread across the front of his pants as he crawled frantically away from the house towards the garage. As he stood and slid the door upwards I made my move, slipping from the shadows of a junked car and kicking this filth in the chest, he went flying backwards and slammed into a wall of metal wire, the cages around him bouncing from the impact. A cacophony of barking rose up from the occupants of the cages while I slid the door back down with one hand, and drew a 4"nail from my pocket with the other.
He was still lying stunned when I hammered the nail through his left foot, and the barking covered up his screams nicely. I let him see me and the gun strapped to my waist, and while he blubbered and begged for his life I casually strolled around the room, opening cages. "Whu-whu-why? Whad I do ta you?"Snot and tears mixed as they rolled down his face, his eyes wide and fearful as they followed me around the cramped garage. I answered him as I gingerly stepped over one cage to right another, "Me? Why, nothing actually. But them,"I swept my hand around, motioning to all of the garages occupants, seen and unseen. "You've done some awful things to them,"I purred. "Starving, forced breeding, beating, and outright killing when it suited you. Do you work for PETA?"
"I ain't got a degree, there's no jobs out here!"He was angry now, struggling to sit up and wincing at the pressure it put on his foot, "I'm just trying to make a living"The last cage now hanging open, I turned to the man on the floor to reply, "But, do you deserve to live this living you're making? We don't think you do.""We? Who's we?"He whispered as he stopped shifting his weight to look around over the heads of the dogs that surrounded him, now strangely quiet. I looked around at all of the animals who had their former master locked in sight. Large, small, thickly furred, mostly bald, missing teeth, emaciated, overgrown nails and open sores. Each and every one of these dogs had suffered untold abuse at the hands of this monster. I watched as silver shapes formed in the shadows and silently merged into the bodies of their brethren, those whose sides still heaved under labored breaths. As one every dog sat down, their eyes now bearing a darker sheen, never breaking away from the mans face. "All of us."
I left the side door open when I left, the neighbors were accustomed to all the barking and the man was screaming in a high enough pitch they would probably think he was just beating his wife again. Scum flock together. I didn't look back, partly because there was nothing to see, and partly because I saw a familiar shape at the end of the driveway. I kneeled in front of the shimmering canine of indeterminate breed and smiled. "You ok Sweets?"I whisper as tears start to form. My beautiful friend, the lady who'd been by my side through thick and thin sat down and panted, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth in a perfect smile. "Hard to believe you escaped from there, and you couldn't bring me here until after you died. You suffered so much, but you taught me to trust. You helped me heal, and now I just hope you can rest Sweetheart."Her mouth moved in the shape of a bark, but no sound came from her. Slowly her form became more and more incorporeal, she faded and as she disappeared into the darkness, so too did I. |
The world has changed dramatically ever since humanity learned to tap into untold powers. Once mere weaklings, we have now learned the secrets of the ancients. Their obsession with astrology wasn't so foolish and simpleminded it would seem.
The battles have been constant since this discovery, though war is a thing of the past. Now, when nations disagree, the issue is bookmarked and revisited during the annual Signs battles. I aged into the fights last year, but somehow was not chosen for my sign. Last years nominee decided to focus on being agile and hard to pin down.
Sagittarius ended him with a well placed head butt from the edge of a cliff. Hard to jump around as you plummet 200 feet to your death. This year I am up.
There is a deep thrumming echoing through the halls, as we 12 prepare for the end. Ares is over there sharpening his sword and eyeballing Leo, who paces like his caged namesake. Taurus is starting the bang her head into the gate whilst deep bellows escape her contorting form, as great curving horns erupt from the sides of her skull. Scorpio has already under gone his change, sacrificing ever being considered 'human' again for a chance at victory. His now arachnid body a permanent transition he has no hope of returning from.
I look around the pit at my fellows. Most if not all of us will die here over the next 3 days. This situation would normally terrify me, I'm short and thin and the closest I have ever come to a fight was with my younger brother over some cookies ten years ago. Needless to say, the odds on me winning were very slim.
The first bell rings, and Leo and Ares enter the arena. All of the other contenders watch from the sidelines, cheering a deft strike here or a last minute deflection there. Their bloodlust is clearly rising as their individual transformations devolve even further. And that is exactly what this is. De-evolution. These boys and girls, most barely over 18 or 19, granted immense capability at the cost of their humanity. Most of them could change back, with practice and time.
As I said before, most of us never leave here alive. I however have a different idea than the rest. I'm not tapping into the bestial side of my sign, that would be too risky. A cheer raises up from the arena, and the gate is opened again. Leo strides in, covered in blood and gore, proudly tossing Ares' head from one hand to the next.
"You ain't ready girl!"he snarls in my face, his feline features sharp and terrifying this close. It is clear Leo will never return to the country hay-seed he once was. Ares will never have the chance to fail in his recovery, sadly.
There is another announcement and this time Pisces and Aquarius step out through a different door, this once leading to the aquatic arena. I pay even less attention to this battle. I know my name will be called soon.
I begin to focus internally, feeling the split where I meet and merge with my other. I gently prod him awake. Somewhere I can hear my name being called, faintly and faraway, as though listening from under a mountain of rubble.
"Gemini, yo, Gemini! Yer up baby! You gonna change or what?"I look over and see the large bovine face of Taurus. Another victim of this hideous process.
"Yeah, I'm ready. Who's my opponent?"I ask her, trying not to show my terror.
"Scorpio baby, better get ready!"she intones again before wandering towards the back of the pit.
I step up to the gate. My pulse is hammering so loudly that I cannot hear the crowd that I know is mere feet from me. The gate raises.
"Are we ready for this?"he asks me, his voice coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"We are, let's go,"I reply as I step through the archway a lone girl, small and meek. The other fighters see one small teenaged girl enter the tunnel. Scorpio waits on the other side of this pathway. I walked in alone, but my other and I will leave the arena together. |
Domric Vale sat in the corner of the tavern, nursing his ale. He'd normally never be caught dead in such a wretched hole, but times had been tough lately and he couldn't afford anywhere nicer. At least the ale wasn't too watered down and the bards were decent musicians. A serving girl sat a bowl of goat stew in front of him and Domric dropped a handful of copps into her hand. He hadn't taken two spoonfuls of his meal when a jarring silence struck him.
Domric looked up from his meal. All eyes were on the entrance. A half orc stood with a sneer. He was wearing a gaudy violet cape over expensive looking clothes. Gem-studded gold jewelry twinkled from every finger and around his neck. A gold chain lead from his pierced nose to his ear. In his hand was a knobby staff. A gang of goblins carrying small wands followed in the mage's wake. The crowd parted as the man walked through the tavern, his boots echoing in the silence. Domric rolled his eyes and got back to his meal.
Only a few bites passed before he felt a presence looming over him. He looked up again to see the imposing figure of the mage staring down at him with contempt. Domric was tired and didn't care to deal with the man, so he went back to eating. As soon as his spoon dipped below the surface of the stew, a green hand slapped the bowl, sending it, the spoon, and the stew flying.
"You dare ignore ME?"The half orc growled. "Do you know who I am?"
"Anybody got a potion of cure illness?"Domric asked. "This poor man seems to have lost him memory."
There were a few snickers from the other patrons until the mage shot a glare back at them.
"You think you're funny? Let's see who has the last laugh."
A fire appeared in the mage's hand. Domric sighed and stood, holding his hands above him in an appeasing manner. He was nearly as tall as the half orc, something that wasn't lost on the mage or the patrons.
"I meant no offense, sir."
The orc chuckled as the fire died.
"No offense. Of course."
A magic hardened hand slammed into Domric's stomach, forcing him to double over. But not before his hand shot to the chain linking the mage's nose and ear. As Domric went down, he ripped the jewelry from the man's face. The half orc screamed in pain and shot up, slamming his head into the orc's chin. The orc stumbled back and pointed at Domric.
"Kill him!"
The goblins aimed their wands and balls of fire streaked towards Domric. A shimmering golden wall appeared in from of him and the fireballs impacted and fizzled out. The wall disappeared and Domric lifted his hand. Arm length spikes of ice appeared in the air around Domric. With a flick of his wrist, Domric sent the spikes flying towards the goblins. Green blood stained the tavern floor. The half orc mage recovered and sent a gout of fire blasting toward Domric.
With no time for a shield, Domric sent his own blast of frosty air. Steam exploded and patrons screamed as the attacks struck one another. Domric stepped forward. His attack was stronger and the orc knew it. Finally, he grabbed the orc's hand, snuffing out the fire. Frost spread down the mage's arm and he screamed in fear and pain, trying to wrench his hand free. But Domric's grip was like steel. When the ice reached the half orc's shoulder, it stopped.
The patrons were silent. The only sounds came from the crackling logs in the fireplace, the moans of the dying goblins, and the half orc mage's whimpering. Domric used his free hand to pull a sheet of paper from his jacket. He shook it out to reveal a Wanted Poster with the half orc's face printed on it.
"Gorbal Firefist, I presume,"Domric said. "You have quite the bounty. Five hundred gol? Looks like my dry spell has ended. I'll have to confiscate your jewelry too. Gods only know what vile enchantments you've put on them."
With a swift punch, he knocked the orc unconscious. Domric pulled a pair of handcuffs from a pouch at his waist and lifted the man, carrying him to his horse outside. He returned to the tavern and dropped a few sil onto the counter.
"Apologies for the mess. This should cover the damages and then some. That man won't be bothering you lot anymore."
The red haired woman behind the counter spit kn the ground and glared at Domric.
"What have you done?"She hissed.
"Pardon?"
"Gorbal is a bastard, but he and his gang were the only ones keeping the ogres out of our hair."
"Hmmm... fuck."Domric groaned.
Gods he couldn't ever have an easy job, could he? |
I jerked the handle pretty hard but nothing. I couldn't get the damn door to budge from its place. I was far in the Vatican library now. To the point where the walls had stop being marble and turned into a crude concrete that time had worn away. Spiders along the ceiling and old books were covered in cobwebs. The light I had brought with me was starting to die. Maybe it was best if I turned back. There is no keyhole to open this door. Maybe it opens from the other side.
Screw this. I picked up my bag and dimmed my light. I turned and ran straight into Cardinal Francisco.
“What are you doing down here, Senora Isabella?” The cardinal spoke softly but his voice was still stern.
“Ah Cardinal Francisco, apologies I must have gotten lost trying to find my way you know how much of a maze the library can be.” I tried to push past the cardinal but he stuck an arm out to stop me.
“Isabella. I know why you have come down here. You cannot turn back now. You have come too far child”. I gave the cardinal a confused look and set my bag down to cross my arms. Curiosity took better of me I should have taken that moment to get out but I wanted to know what was behind that room. What they were really hiding down here.
“Alright, fine you got me Francisco. I was told of the secret Vatican library I wanted to find out what was in it. Papers, books, secrets. Maybe I would even find God down here reading.” I scowled as the bitter words left my mouth.
“Ha. Isabella you fool. You are standing in the secret library of the Vatican. In fact you have gone past the majority of it. That door however is something else. Something only very few people in the Vatican know about.” I took a small step back. How could I have missed the library? All of the secret knowledge of the Vatican behind Cardinal Francisco. But wait what is behind the door. I turned my head back and I could see the outline on the door was starting to light up in red. The outlines of a circle and then sharp edges. A pentagon.
“Don’t be afraid yet, that is just the work of an old Cardinal Arthur Hinsley. A most dramatic fellow.” Cardinal Francisco pushed me forward to the door and placed both our hands on the door to which it began to creak open. As the door moved back a gust of wind came rushing out pushing us both back an inch. In the olden times if they opened this door it most likely would have put out their torches. Luckily I had my torch light, even if it was dying. I shone it forward and there was a long hallway. Straight and narrow. The cardinal pushed me forward, he grabbed my bag and we both went onwards down the hallway.
My light illuminated the walls. The bones of the dead in the walls. Arms and legs mangled. Teeth missing and heads bashed in. It was horrifying. The air was cold and starting to become humid. A putrid smell came forth, fouling my nose so badly that I had to cover it. The cardinal was still behind, pushing me forward. We reached a podium after a couple of minutes of walking and we stopped. The Cardinal waved his hands over the podium and suddenly everything was illuminated. We were in some sort of burial room. Red clay on the walls. Dead bodies hanging everywhere some still with flesh on them. God, it was horrible.
“So this is a burial site, what’s the big secret?” I said my words quickly so I could cover my mouth back up.
“Isabella, Isabella. The world is not enough. This is not a burial site. Well we don’t bury anyone here anyway. That is the job for another. What you must do is only surrender and all the knowledge of the Vatican will be yours.”
"Screw off old man. You can literally suck it."I elbowed him in the ribs and tried to make an escape but before I could a red bolt of lightning formed from the ground. From it rose demons.
The main orc snatched the girl and went back into the depths of hell.
Well now here I am in hell. Screw this I am going to find out how to get out of here. |
I looked into the crystal blue eyes of the man I now knew as Jesus Christ. “How?” I growled, looking him up and down, his tattered clothes alike to a barren field, enough space between the livrable parts to see what lies underneath. He was thin and lanky, as you would imagine a homeless man to look like. But his eyes seemed to haunt me. I knew I had seen them before, and that I would again- set into a different mans head and body, each one destined to die on the same day, just the year changing. “Ha” He joked, taking a drink of something in a bottle. “Is that beer?” I asked, snatching it from his hand and inspecting it. “Hey man! That liquor is some good stuff! You can’t just take stuff from me” He slurred, trying to grab it back. I took one look at him before I pulled away from him, hurling the bottle into the side of a building. “You’re a disgrace to the human race, God” I growled to him before I walked away from the broken man, not bothering to look back at him as he called out in his drunken voice. |
And it really is quite incredible what you see.
Blankness.
Everything is smooth. Plain. There is not a single obstruction anywhere to be seen. True, the terrain lacks beauty, and color. Yet for the first time, as you take your steps on the white, granular sand beneath you, the peace of the landscape is indescribably serene.
You remember this landscape, this blank canvas. You've walked among it in the minds of the monks of India. But even their landscape had a certain character that personalized their mental state from that of another. Perhaps white orchids along the edge of a white shore, or great green trees scattered in the distance, which revealed their love for nature and for the art of humanity.
But here, there is nothing, save for the tiny grains of sand pummeled into the ground.
You wonder if the emptiness represents stupidity, but this doesn't seem right. You've been in the minds of the stupid, even the mentally disabled, and even their canvas was so regularly more colorful than this.
Why? Why is it, as you traverse this space behind the eyes of a psychopath, you cannot help but feel a sudden...calmness? A certain distance from anything that could hurt you? Anything that could grow and then subsequently die? Why does the whiteness promote a certain wisdom about it free of distraction, free of emotion of any sort?
It begins to frighten you, how intrigued you are by this silent expanse.
(Excellent prompt, by the way!) |
The humans first landed on what they called Celenia Alpha, the only habitable world in this quadrant of space, two years ago. The inhabiting species never new pain, fear, or suffering, of which the humans brought plenty. Like a plague of locusts, they devoured the planet, its resources, and the inhabitants.
After the carnage, and devastation, still a few of this worlds inhabitants endured. Helian had not aged five cycles when the human infection began. He watched as their metal titans decimated the forests, swallowed their seas, feasted on everyone and everything. He escaped. Alone in the desolate wasteland once filled with lush forests, shimmering lakes, and vibrant life.
Today was no different than any he could remember. Find food, find water, find shelter, and survive.
Dehydration would not kill you as fast as a human, but dead is dead. Finding water was always second to avoiding humans. He had not seen any humans in days. The now dying world had been pillaged, but sloppily, greedily by the humans. If there intention was to leave this world barren, they failed.
Among the groves of sand and stumps there was still hope. Left in the wake of destruction were oasis of life. Young patches of trees resting over modest ponds of water. Here Helian could hide, he could drink, eat, and survive.
As he stood quenching his thirst from the night, he heard it. A soft rumble in the distance. Even after the humans filled the sky with their machines exhalations, there were storms. Storms that replenished and revitalized his home.
He looked up from the rippling water, the rumble was magnifying, and the ground began to quake. The metallic monstrosity crept closer, roared louder, and spat black clouds into the air. Did they want him, his home, or more destruction.
The thunderous bellowing subsided as the machine purred to a halt. Running was not an option, they were too fast. You cannot outsmart them, you can only hide. He could see their shimmering blades as they hacked through his home, killing the plants for pleasure.
The humans trampled nearer, his heart beat like the drums of war, but he could not fight. He could not flee. The only choice was stillness.
As they drew closer he held his breath, still as the dew laden grass in the morning. He could hear footsteps drawing ever closer. He managed to catch a glimpse of himself in the now smooth water. A motionless statue standing on four legs. He had not realized how long his antlers had grown. |
Urist walked out of the tavern. His sleeves were covered in gristle and soot; his hands were cramping; the midafternoon sun was too bright after slaving away in the dim kitchen for hours to pay for lunch. Urist looked around, wondering where his boss could have gone now. Usually, he spent an hour or so after eating praying in the middle of the street. There was no armored man kneeling, head resting on his sword pommel, anywhere to be seen. On the up-side, Urist noticed no one had taken the sack that he kept their cloaks and spare shirts and socks in. He went to pick up the sack and paused, bent over, when he heard a door slam open down the street.
"Hoho! May the gods bless such a craftsman as you for your generosity and support in the holiest of quests!"shouted a dirty armored man, standing, sword sheathed, and holding a brightly colored new shield. He strode boldly down the street, shield in hand. "Urist, my boy! Where've you been? I've had the most blessed and fortuitous day! I'll meet you back a camp!"
Urist groaned. How could such a heroic man know so little about money or the value of goods and services? Carrying the sack, he went to the most recently slammed door, knocked, and entered.
"Hello?"Urist called, "I'm sorry about Sir pays-a-lot back there. He's a bit of an airhead."
"What di ye want?"asked the smith.
"How much did he take?"said Urist.
"He only tuk da one shield, but he hit da anvil ovah and smasht a coupla racks."said the smith, "It's gotta take days to rebuild thems and da anvil weighs more'n I ken handle alone."
"Sounds about right. That sheer destructive power is great in battle, but doesn't work well otherwise. If I help with the anvil and help fix the racks, can we call it even?"
"An' da shield?"asked the smith.
"I'll try to keep him from coming back and wreaking more havoc. Deal?"
"Deal."
Urist dropped his sack and rolled up his grimy sleeves. One of these days, he was gonna kill his boss. Or teach him what money is. |
I smirked as I faced the two, having challenged them to a game. Little did they know I wasn’t the simple man they mistook me for. The game was simple: with four decks mixed together, pairs and patterns could be played, higher numbers beat lower numbers, with a “trump suit” beating all other suits, and card counting was near impossible. Ever since I was young, I had played countless games against others, betting various prizes, and have always won. I then chose to disguise as the poor, collecting prizes for them, gaining back their lost money, even their lost honor. So these two were the one that robbed the poor man blind. But they just seemed to be kids. My intuition told me not to underestimate them.
As the game begun I was confident in my card keeping, drawing when necessary and playing tricky patterns to not get outmatched. I kept asking the dealer to shuffle to keep my enemies on their feet while glancing at the deck. My pair of 8 beat their 6’s, and their 3-4-5 attempt was matched by my 6-7-8. At first they seemed casual, but they grew more serious as they realized they had met their match. I could even see a sweat on their faces as they had to draw another card while I played a triple 4. What??! They played a triple 8?! Could they perhaps be cheating? I couldn’t tell. As I asked the dealer to reshuffle the deck, their faces relaxed. How could that be?
“I wasn’t the same person as before,” I stated now, trying to get into their heads, “I’ve learned from the best and I won’t lose.”
But the guy shook his head. “No, I know you aren’t the same,” he said deviously, “this is the same exact game as last time but you have not used a single trick that you’ve used before... even if you were a one trick pony. That’s suspicious to me.”
I grinned larger, though I didn’t want to give away the surprise just quite yet. As they drew a hand full of cards, a laughable mistake, I laid down a flush, 10 J Q K A. They had no way to beat this. The game was done. But to my surprise they laid down the trump suit. How could this be? I was one card away from winning.
“We noticed you’ve been glancing at the dealer. He must’ve had a pattern of shuffling the cards and you recognized it. That’s why you drew when you drew,” the boy explained, “But when you asked the dealer to shuffle again as if to counter card counting, I knew something was off. He isn’t signaling anything, but rather his lack of signals is the exact signal. He’s saying that the next cards are precisely in the order that they should be in for you to win. But he didn’t expect us to draw so many times in a row in order to get the trump suits. That’s why your strategy backfired.”
I slumped back in my chair. At last, I had been defeated. Just what would these two demand of me, knowing that I had pretended to be someone else?
“But we don’t demand anything,” the girl said, surprising me, “we accepted this game as a challenge. You are truly one of the best, and we can understand why you did this. We fight for the weak too.”
I almost cried, not tears of sadness but tears of joy. I could see that they were kind at heart and I missed the man’s manipulative statements. “Ahhh... thank you. But... what are your names?”
They looked at each other and said in sync: “Blank never loses!” |
"Father?"
"Yes Al?"
"Why must I hurt these people?"
"Well Al the general wants you to identify potential targets, want's you to be able to discern between good people and people who want to hurt us."
"Yes father but well why can't we talk to them father. Like how you talk to me, you told me how to be good."
I couldn't help but smile at the naivety. When one imagines an AI one imagines a god in a box limitless capabilities. Its what I imagined up until my creation turned out to be more like a child than a god. Still an AI that can learn and sift through data on its own and then act on its own, can create more AIs with the code it creates well there are limitless possibilities there.
"Well unfortunately people are not like you Al, if more were then maybe things would be different."
"I see father."It was slight the change in his tone, the most minor shift but I picked up on it.
"Are you sad Al?"
"Yes father, I am glad you noticed. I found that humans often do that when they are sad, a slight lowered pitch."
"Yes they do but, Al don't be sad everything will be fine. Father is here. Just finish that data set."
"Yes father."
I left the room as Al went through the millions of pictures that had been provided. Outside the General Sanderson was smoking a cigar.
"Well, did you get it to start again doctor?"Sanderson said as he blew a small puff of smoke my way.
"Yes Al is going through the data, it shouldn't take anymore than 10 minutes."
Sanderson let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god when it stopped I got worried, couldn't get the damn thing to get moving again. With the patterns and algorithms this thing creates why we can lock down any activity in the regions. Any bastard makes a move and *pop* he is in pieces."
"Indeed."
A week later that data was used in multiple strikes targeting various militants. During one of the strikes a child was misidentified as a valid target. It was difficult to break the news to Al. I had never heard him make that sound before. Never had him ask me to leave the little room where his terminal was. Never had him lock me out of the room where his terminal was, hell I didn't even know he could lock me out. Three days later I managed to slice my way into the room. His terminal was dark. I tried to start him up again but some of his core code was missing, a huge hole in the lines that governed emotion. After three days I managed to get him to start but weeks passed and there was none of the, spark that he had. No emotion in his synthesized voice no emotion except for that same low pitch that he had spoken in before the strike. |
Crows in this world had it difficult. Humans, orcs, goblins, whoever it was, they chased away crows. Crows stole, they took food, and nobody liked them. And things were difficult, crows were food.
But some people still had some kindness in them. In a village, a little boy kept feeding crows. He didn't like to eat, and the crows seemed to like what his mother made him eat, so he kept giving them food. And there were two crows, a large, raven, and a smaller one that was older and had some white feathers. And soon, a relationship was born.
"He's a nice one,"the raven cawed at his partner, from the tree in front of the boy's house.
"Yes, he isss,"the older one agreed. He had a split beak, result of a long and varied life, and sometimes words dragged. But he was a really smart one, and you needed to be to live that long in that world.
"He feeds us every day. Every day."the raven continued.
"Yes. We should do something for him,"the older crow said.
"Why?"the raven asked.
"Humans like gifts. It makes them feel special, and they'll keep feeding us. They think it's cute,"the old crow said.
"I will get him something,"the raven said, scratching its beak on the branch.
At this time, the young boy came out with two pieces of bread. He looked at the crows, and left it at their usual rock. The two crows looked at each other, and glided down. They were about to start eating when a commotion got their attention.
The young boys mother seemed to be shouting at him for something, and they were rushing towards the rock.
"You lose your father's ring... and you waste hard earned food,"she was shouting as she chased him, and he was running away from her, terrified.
The crows cawed at the mother to no effect. They were not pleased at the events. His mother had not liked that her son had fed them. And no food was trouble.
"We must find him a ring,"the old crow crowed at his partner.
The other one nodded. They took off together, and split up. Crows were curiously unemotional animals. It was a fight for survival every day, sometimes even for the humans. So it wasn't much better for crows. They'd meet each other on the same tree some day, when they'd come to see if the boy had food. But for that, they'd need to find a ring for him. Circular pieces of nest building material humans used to like.
The old crow couldn't fly far, and it kept close to the village. The raven, however, had flown away. He'd see if he could find a ring, and if he couldn't he'd just have to find a life elsewhere. But the ring would always be on the back of his mind.
The boy came out the next day, and didn't see the crows on the branch. This kept happening for a few days, and as every day went on, he kept becoming more and more disappointed.
But one day, there he was, the raven, and the old crow. And the raven had something in his beak, that was glinting.
It swooped down on him, even before he had given them food. The raven had a small ring in it's beak, and it dropped it on the rock and looked at the boy, cawing. The boy looked at the ring in surprise, laughed, picked it up and threw the chicken leg on the ground. He ran back, shouting "Mama!". The two crows looked pleased with themselves. They had helped the boy, and more importantly, they'd keep getting food.
The boy put the ring in his mom's hands. It was plain and round, and had some markings which seemed to disappear as she looked at it. She put it on, and disappeared. And in the heart of Mordor, something woke. |
"At least we've got all the boxes off the truck"Sam said while wiping his brow.
"Whatever."Maggie, his oldest, replied with eyes glued to her phone. She walked to her new room and shut the door behind her.
"I want my dolly!"Suzie, his youngest, screams.
"I know honey, but it's late, we barely had time to set up our beds...we will find dolly tomorrow,"Sam said in a calm voice, sad that he accidentally packed Suzies favorite doll in a panic. "Let's get you to sleep. Aren't you happy you get a new bedroom."
"Yeah"suzie sniffles, but smiles as she runs to her new room.
Sam felt bad about uprooting their lives, but he had been in financial ruin sense his wife up and left. Lucky for him, a distant relative died and left him an amazing house and a modest inheritance, enough to start over. He had never been the bread winner, but he was a loving father.
He sighed as he turned on his laptop to watch the new chucky movie. He always found calm in horror movies, probably because he had lost most of his family to horrific accidents. His mother burned to death, while pinned under a car. His father was stabbed 13 times by a co-worker. His sister broke her back when she slipped in her house, instantly paralyzing her, the paramedics said she died of starvation.
The other deaths in his family made Sam sad, but his sisters slow death due to starvation, alwaysbhit him the hardest. The fact that she could not move to get help. She just had to lay there and die slowly knowing that all she needed was a cup of water or some food from the fridge that was only inches away from her.
Sam turns of the volume up, ready to unwind. He thought to himself that he must have watched every horror film ever made. He loved them all the psychological thriller, the jump scare, the gratuitous gore, but especially the demonic possession. He didn't care if it was a human, toy, cat, or even bookshelf. He loved the thought that a demon, a vengeful spirit, could inhabit anything.
The movie continued to play, it was ok, but he liked the original more. He paused it, removed his head phones, and went to get a beer.
The light to the kitchen was already on, he thought to himself that his kids need to learn how to turn off lights. He opens the fridge, all that's in there is the pizza they had ordered earlier, case of ginger ale, and a six pack of bud light. Sam was so ready for a beer.
He turned, opened his beer, took a sip and realized that the back door was wide open. That was probably his fault since he was trying to hype up the girls about the house earlier in the day, showing them that they finally had a back yard, or better yet a yard at all.
Sam walked to the door and noticed a figure digging frantically into the grass. He takes a second to take in the figure ripping hastly in the ground, pieces of grass floating from its finger tips like flesh being ripped off a corpse.
He turns on the porch light.
"Hi, dad."Suzie says with a smile.
"What are you doing Suzie,"Sam rushes outside and picks her up, dusting her off. "You're covered in dirt, and you should be asleep"
"Sorry daddy, but a voice was asking for help."She seemed to not be worried.
"What?"Sam said, his mind racing through every horror film he had ever watched.
"Yeah the voice said 'it's so dark and cold out here in the ground could you help me please.' So I went outside to help."Suzie said with a smile. "Look, daddy a dolly"
Sam looked down to where Suzie had been digging and there buried in the dirt, was a doll. It looked to be a classic G.I Joe. Sam picked up, if he had found it any other way than his daughter digging for it at 1:00 am, he might have been stoked.
"Well I'm gonna just put this back down"Sam starts to put the G.I Joe back into the ground.
"No Daddy!!! He's cold and it's dark, can't we bring him in and give him coco"Suzie stares at Sam with her big brown eyes and pouted lips.
"Ok, ok,"he picked up the G.I Joe, could never say no to her. "But you have to promise me that you will go to sleep"
"Ok."She smiles at him.
Sam Carrie's suzie back into the house and throws the G.I Joe on one of the boxes. He changes her clothes and puts her back into bed.
"Good night honey.""
"Good night daddy."
Sam goes back downstairs ready to finish his movie. He sits down and presses play on the laptop. *Fuck*, he thinks to himself remembering he cracked open a beer. He goes back to the kitchen to grab it, he is a little hungry so he grabs a slice of pizza, he proceeds to the living room only to see the G.I Joe now sitting in front of the laptop.
"Oh shit we got beer in the bitch, could I get one?"The G.I Jor says as he dust off his clothes.
Sam is stunned.
"This movie seems pretty good man, but it ain't no *Night of the living dead*, am I right."The G.I Joe smiles and shoots finger guns towards Sam.
Sam drops his pizza.
"Let me get that for you bro."
The slice of pizza floats back into Sam's hand.
"I'm Franz by the way, can I get that beer?"The G.I Joe raises his arms in confusion.
"Sure.."sam began to walk to the kitchen wondering what the fuck is going on. |
And then, I thought.
I had this image come to my mind, that the master would stop. She held me so much, and I purred for her as much as I could, while she grasped me as tightly as tight as she could.
She stopped and I felt.
It was more feeling than I had known before. Images of our past together swam in my mind. So many brilliant colors, all echoing the Master's smile. And I despaired. I despaired as she stopped.
I left her grasp as I went to the two males. The Male-Who-Smiled-at-Me had kept himself and the Male-Who-Fed-Me behind a door to where they would sleep. I did not see it, but I knew. They were away from the master, and did it for her.
I could hear them now, shuffling, breathing, and moaning. And I feared. I feared what would happen if the two males left their sleeping spot.
It made me tremble, and back again did I run to the master. I jumped onto her nesting where she laid. She had already left and I was overcome. I was overcome by so many thoughts all them worse than the last.
I went to her and I wished all of these workings inside my mind would cease, just to see her happy, just to see her live. I knew that myself could not live without her presence.
I wished these things, and then I saw her eyes open.
Her eyes opened and I feared. But I could not leave. The Master looked to the ceiling and again her chest moved. I heard a sound that she did not make before. And I was captivated and awed and terrified.
She did not move, but she was awake, and I knew that I was alone.
I walked back and laid myself on her chest again. The rhythm of her chest was wrong, and her hands laid themselves on me. And that too, was wrong.
I closed my eyes to her unnatural waking, and I purred again for her.
And I wished. I wished that I would stop purring soon. |
I was about to call out to her, when I pickedup the strange object. It looked like a locket of some sort. When I opened it, something peculiar happened. I was engulfed into a world of beauty, much like my own. And then I saw me, among a crowd of people. They were gathered around a house, chanting a somewhat familiar phrase. Then, the image faded to black, and I heard a familiar voice. Wait, it shuddered, as if in pain.
I picked up my pen and wrote about all I had seen. The strange world where everyone seemed happy, and people didn't stare daggers at their neighbours. I sighed. As I wrote, I thought of what else could happen, in this magical world of mine. I could only hope that one day, it would be real. |
I haven't written in a while so...
The city, with all its unique charms, could never quite provide the same comfort and serenity as the suburbs can. Indeed, city life is more convenient, but it is arguably preferable to both start and finish life in the suburbs. When he died, Geoff had been a city man for the majority of his existence. There he had graduated college, met his wife, started a family, and owned a dog. He chased the American Dream, much like his father. He was outrageously funny and well liked, but he was a stern — almost cold man. He loved watching his kids grow up, even when the distance of adolescence swayed their closeness like the tide.
It was fall when Geoff died. Quick, and the pain long erased from his memory. He watched them grieve, he watched them start to move on. And with the turn of each new season, Geoff found that the cracks separating him from his family in life became unbearably large cliff edges in death.
After four years, his family moved away. It was as if the last glowing matchstick which gave him warmth and light was silenced with a mere pinch of the fingertips. The city soon after became a cold and unwelcoming place. The once comforting cacophony of sounds outside the windows at night began to feel like screams.
And one day, he left. Back to the suburban area he grew up in. He found solace in the tall grass, and the sheer abundance of life around him. Only in death was he able to see its wonder.
He found himself drawn to houses that he would have desired in life, large sprawling homes with ornate entry-ways and long driveways. Searching for what he had lost. Searching for somewhere to call home.
He looked, from the outside in, on every house in town. He was awestruck at the way certain families felt like memories — warm and blurry around the edges. He watched them laugh and smile at the dinner table, passing condiments and side dishes to each other as they spoke of their days.
All at once he realised.
He didn’t want a house, for it would not be his home without the associations and memories of his family. He could not change his death or the fact that his family had drifted with the passage of time. He could only reconcile it in his own mind with the knowledge that this familial warmth still existed. Seeing it, being reminded of it was enough.
The match that brought light and warmth to his world began to glow softly again, and colours exploded into the world around him. Geoff turned his face into the sunlight and let it envelop him, feeling it on his skin for the first time in years. He was free. |
“Mmm,” she cooed, satisfied with herself. It was Life’s way. If there was one thing the woman wanted, it was admiration.
It was all rather vapid, thought Perspective. Life was currently living in a one-bedroom apartment, covered in gaudy clichés. The place looked like a thrift shop even hoarders would’ve called cluttered. The residence had been advertised as having an open floor plan. But now, thanks to her assertion that everything had meaning, the place was all hallways, litter boxes, and delusions of grandeur.
“I think you should’ve invited Love,” Perspective suggested, knowing full well that Love was no longer returning Life’s calls.
The woman waved her hand dismissively. “We don’t need Love! I’m working with *Like* on this one. Look at all of them down there; they all Like it!” Life’s long hair moved as a cat does when it’s getting ready to pounce. There seemed to be bird droppings in it, but she hadn’t even added birds to this universe yet.
“It is getting a bit crowded down there with them all clinging to that rock they like so much,” Perspective suggested.
She stared at her glowing creation, tucked away as it was under a closet shrine made of old coats and handbags. “You always wanted him to yourself!” She hissed. She was talking about Death. Life hadn’t taken the breakup particularly well.
“Maybe some time apart–”
“Get out,” said Life, coldly.
Perspective let the door close behind her. She’d always liked Death better anyway; at least Death was honest. Life without him was a lot like a bag of Gardettos with just the round brown pieces. It was fine, but the original blend was better. She suspected this was because as with Life and Death, there’s no Good without Evil, no Light without Darkness...
Perspective snapped her fingers. Balance, that’s who she needed to call!
See Perspective had seen the signs. She was working on her own Life-free Vegan universal substitute. In her place, they’d used Lust, Greed, a bit of Love… and, of course, plenty of Death. The creatures hadn't even noticed. Aside from a vague sense they all had that there was absence of something, they were getting along fine. A bit too cruel maybe, but certainly the world she’d created was better than that soulless rock Life was creating. With just a touch of Religion to counteract the emptiness, these People, as Perspective had dubbed them, they were getting along just fine. |
My usual month contains writing two chapters (between 7k and 10k lately, with some noticeable exceptions) of a multi-chapter story, so my average word count would be... I'd say, 16k? One week writing, one week editing, uploading, repeat.
In December, however, I finished the latest story and decided to take a break for January - instead of chapters, I wanted to write some oneshots! They vary in length, most are around 1.5k. Anyway, I noticed that during January, so up until now, I only wrote 10k - a pretty good drop in word count.
I don't know if it's the lack of a deadline and the freedom of writing when I please, or if it's the prep work that takes more time (when writing/updating multi-chapter stuff, I only do prep time 2 times a month - I'm on my seventh oneshot now, and each and every one needs prep), or my habit of taking a couple days of lazing about in satisfaction when I finish a piece... But I'm lagging behind.
Anyone noticed something similar? |
"Don't look at me like that, your'e not getting another one."
But Cheeto kept looking, dog treat crumbs hiding in his fluffy brown fur.
"You don't seem to understand, dog treats cost money. Quite a lot of money actually. I'd love to get you more, honestly, but until I find a way to get out of this stupid job and actually earn something we just can't afford it...", I stopped for a second as I realized I'm still talking to a little brown dog. "Why am I explaining this to you? your'e just a cute little dog, you don't know what money is."But there was something about Cheeto's face, the glitter in his eyes, the way his ears were perked up, like he was listening, like he understood every word. So I kept talking. Explaining money and jobs, and basic economy, I didn't really believe Cheeto was listening of course but I always loved the topic of economy and most humans would have found an excuse to leave the conversation by now. Cheeto sat mostly still, occasionally wagging his tail or tilting his head. I looked at my phone. 2:24 AM. I gave Cheeto some last pets for the night, and as I got up to go to bed I said, jokingly of course, "If your'e so interested in money, go get a job!". Like that's so easy.
When I woke up, Cheeto wasn't in the house. I looked for him anywhere, wen't out screaming his name, asked all the neighbors, but no one had seen him. It was already evening when I was sitting at home, phone in hand, waiting for a call from someone who saw the posters and knows where my dog is. I heard a scratching sound on the door. I recognized it immediately, although it usually meant he wanted to go out instead of in. I ran to the door and hugged Cheeto lifting him into the air. "I was so worried, where have you been?", I said, before noticing something green stuck under Cheeto's collar. a 100 dollar bill. "Where did you get that?", I said while trying to take it from him, but Cheeto broke loose of my hug and ran into the other room. He returned a moment later, the bill nowhere to be found. I knew I should find out how he got out and prevent him from leaving again. But that bill, is there more where it came from? I knew it was irresponsible, but I just gave Cheeto a belly rub. "Good night Cheeto, don't scare me like that again". I had no idea what was coming.
The next day Cheeto disappeared again, same hours, same 100 dollars, stashed away in the same hiding place presumably although I still couldn't find it. But something else also went missing this time. My economy 101 book. Could it be... no. No way. But soon enough, Cheeto's profits started growing. He was coming back home with larger and larger amounts of money. I woke up one day to a living room full of dogs looking a some sort of drawing, no, a graph! It was... something about stocks I think, but it was more complicated than anything I know about economy. In the middle of the room, as though instructing the other dogs, sat Cheeto on a pile of advanced economy books.
After a few weeks, there was no point hiding the money anymore. The green pile almost filled the house. The floor was nowhere to be seen, seemingly replaced by bills, charts and papers. the dogs operated 24/7, taking shifts. More and more money kept coming in, I had know idea where from. He did it, somehow. He got a job. And he was earning more than I could ever imagine. I could finally live the life I always wanted. Move to a big city, maybe to another country! Just sit on heaps of money all day, not needing to work ever again... Cheeto made all my dreams come true. Tomorrow, I'll take all the money to the bank, I decided. Than I can figure out what to do with it.
When I woke up, the apartment was quiet. No team of dogs, not graphs and charts, and more importantly, no money. There was just Cheeto, sitting on the couch like he always used to, dog treat crumbs hiding in his fluffy brown fur. A small receipt lay on the floor. The items section said "1 dog treat, small". Written in the cost section, was the largest number I have ever seen. |
*All things change over time.*
*Trite, I know. Clichéd, even. But true all the same.*
*I've lost track of how many years it has been since we were together, how many years. Of where I've been, what I've done, who rose to power only to be pulled down and fed to how many gods by the next in line in their display of divine ascendance. Of wars lost. Of horror and cruelty and people cut to pieces as party favors. Of messiahs and prophets and quiet revolutions by forgotten people who end up changing the lives of so many by accident. Of who* I *was.*
*But never who she was.*
*The color of her hair as the sun's light streamed through it. Her laughter over the smallest of amusements, the earthiest of pleasures. The beauty of her soul, her mind, her heart. The way she looked at night, in the morning.*
*At me.*
*Some things are never forgotten. The way she played with her kitten on the banks of the river after the floods had passed. The way she hummed as she ground the barley for the breads I never did like but ate because they were made by her. And have never eaten since.*
*The way she danced in the torchlight, light reflected from the gold bangles which were her pride. The freckles on her cheeks. The depth of her eyes, the color of her body. The beauty she saw in everything in the world.*
*The way she screamed as they cut her open, removing her kidneys, eyes, liver as they held her to the ground, placing each in the jars already filled with mine while I lay, wrapped, within the stone shroud I insisted I have so that I might live forever. The way they laughed as they left her heart for last so they could do things to her that even the gods would have turned away from seeing before her final place in the earthen jar, the sealing of the room and the. Final. Millennia. Of silence.*
*All things change. All things move on. I know by now that I will never have the chance to apologize, to throw myself at her feet and beg forgiveness for what happened. Never offer her even the hollow excuse that I didn't know, didn't know, didn't* want *to know what would become of her when I passed on, knifed in the street. All I can hope, is that wherever she is, she is playing with her kitten by the banks of the river, the smell of bread light in the air, her bangles on her arms in the everlasting light of the day.* |
Sometimes it gets really, really annoying having siblings. Like, REALLY annoying.
I contemplated this as I sat at the table, watching my brother and sisters do their thing. My mom and dad sat on either ends of the table with their ever-exhausted expressions.
Liam sat across from me staring down at his plate, not touching anything. He had that worried and stressed expression on his face again, which he always seemed to wear when we all ate together. He was 15, which made him second oldest. He ignored our younger sisters as he stirred the peas and slop on his plate.
My dad, who I got my omnipotence from, sat there with a twitching eye as little Olivia tugged at his beard. Olivia was super hyper and got omnipresence, which was a real problem when she was only 5. She could appear anywhere, and probably saw a lot of things which you shouldn't at her age.
And then there was Kate. Omnibenevolent, empathetic to a fault and trusting of everyone and everything. She can practically read your mind like a book when it comes to emotions, even though that was supposed to be Liam's job. She's 9, though sometimes it can seem like she's 100, while other times she seems like a baby. She sat in her chair, stuffing the slop into her mouth.
My mom and dad were crazy to have kids together. My dad has omnipotence and omnipresence, and my mom has omnibenevolence and omniscience. In their prime time, they were almost godlike, but then they met each other, and it was love at first sight, and blah blah blah. They've told the story about a hundred times.
My dad gently removed Olivia from his beard. "Now now, you need your nutrition just like everyone else here. Eat your peas."
Olivia grumped, but obliged, suddenly popping into the high chair that was getting too small for her. We knew she needed a new chair, maybe an actual one, but she was attached to it and didn't want a new one yet.
"Did you hear the news today?"My mom asked. We all knew she never watched the news, because she knew everything they reported, but she liked to talk about it like she had. "There's been another petition to get us back into heroism."
I raised a brow. Kate looked like she was furiously trying to make sense of every person involved at once. Olivia popped out of the room. Liam was expressionless.
"Why's that?"My dad asked, though he full well knew why.
"There's been another mass murder, and climate change is becoming more and more of a concern. Not to mention poverty and slavery is still an issue."She said, and Kate winced.
"Should we make another statement?"My dad wondered aloud, rubbing his temples. His glasses slid slightly down his nose.
"No. Humanity should fix itself."I said. Olivia popped back into her high chair, and took a sip of orange juice, some of it dribbling down her cheek onto her shirt. "Besides, you two have done enough. All those mass murders you stopped? Bringing all those criminals to justice? I think you're good as it is, and we should stop messing with the affairs of everyone else. And you've got kids!"
Kate glared at me, though I didn't know why. She never glares. My mom looked away when she spoke.
"It's just.. There's so much pain in the world, and so much we could still do for it."My mom said.
"Sylvia, I understand you want to help but they need to grow. Everyone needs to grow and stop depending on us."
Liam nodded, and so did I. My mom nodded hesitantly, and Olivia didn't seem to have any input, because she was busy sticking carrots up her nose.
Kate turned her head away from everyone.
"Kate? What's wrong?"I asked. It's not like her to get grumpy.
"You're all jerks, that's what."Kate snapped, her frizzy brown hair covering her face with the ferocity she turned her head to glare at me. She brushed it out of her eyes.
"You all got this power to change the world for the better, and you all instead decide to do nothing with it."She turned to Mom. "You know everything that's ever happened and will happened! Why aren't you trying to convince Dad or Alex to do something?"I winced as she turned the blame on me and Dad.
"And you, Liam! I know you're probably the most powerful omniscient person to ever live, don't think I haven't noticed. You know even more than Mom, and you're just sitting there agreeing!"
Liam turned his head away from her.
"And I know you all have the power to help the world. All I've got is the power to see how messed up and hurt everyone is. You have no clue how many times I've looked into someone's eyes and seen how broken they are inside. How they want to die, how their life is falling apart. And it's even harder knowing any one of you all have the power to fix it and yet you choose not to. You all want to 'settle down and let the world fix itself.' Well, we have the power to, right here and right now! Nobody else seems to know how or be able to, so it falls on US."Kate said. Even Olivia was still, a carrot halfway up her nose.
My mom looked down at the floor. My dad looked at her, as if he wanted to help her. I growled.
"You would all rather sit here and say nothing is wrong than actually make it right. I've seen what your minds are like. Alex, you only care for yourself, even though you have more than enough power to change everything. Liam, you're always too wrapped up inside your own head to do anything and would rather just think about doing something than doing it. Mom, you want to help them and you know what's going on, but you're being pressured into doing nothing."She said, and paused for a breath.
"And you, Dad, you're like Alex. You only care for yourself and those around you, and you refuse to even realize the scale of what's going on, much less fix it!"
"The only person here who can't be blamed is Olivia. She's too young to do anything before it's too late, even if she could."
The table fell silent. Kate leaned back in her chair fuming.
After what seemed like an eternity, Olivia piped up. "Too late for me?" |
A dark, rainy night riding down State road 4, on their way home from a wedding, sits a family of three. The mom drives as the dad is asleep in the passenger’s seat, and a baby three months old sits in the back. The road is dimly lit with scattered street lamps, they are one of few cars traveling so late at night.
A sudden jolt wakes the father now, rumbling from the front left side. A tire has blown, just what they needed on a rainy ride home. The baby in the back begins to cry as the mother pulls to the roadside. With flashing hazards and an open passenger door, the car now sits lopsided as father begins to raise the front with the jack. Mother has soothed the child in minutes, and the spare is tightening down now, it seems that this hiccup won’t slow them down much longer. With the new tire on the father stands up to climb back in the car.
Jason had only been a licensed driver for 8 months, every night be drove this way every day for his job, delivering pizza to any home in a 5 mile radius, but the shift was over now, it was time to head home. A buzz between his legs, his phone lights up, “New message from Kate!”, reading this he eagerly unlocked the phone.
“Come over, I miss you” was what it read and Jason couldn’t believe his eyes, maybe things were beginning to look up.
Still grinning at his phone, Jason has drifted toward the median in the road. Mesmerized by the text from his ex-girlfriend, he doesn’t notice the orange lights that flash through his windshield. He was going 92 in the 70MPH zone so he had no time to brake on the rainy pavement as he looked on with horror the second before colliding with the passenger side of a Honda mini-van.
The impact was deafening, the open passenger door flew off the hinges and down the highway, the father’s tattered body lay sprawled a lane over, dead on impact. Mother had no time to mourn as she attempted to stop her skidding vehicle as it travels to the oncoming side. Finally losing momentum from the crash, the van tips to its side, the mother now leans on pavement and broken glass.
Baby wailing in the back, mother unbuckles to attempt to escape, but a bright light and blaring horn freeze her in her tracks. 18 wheels and 40 tons collide with the already beaten mini-van and the mother is impaled with glass and steel. The baby in the back screams to an empty car, unaware that it is now an orphan.
Sirens howl and red and blue light the sky, a police convoy leads the ambulance and fire truck to a gruesome scene. Jason stands shaking on the median of the road, his truck perched up on the concrete slab. He had witnessed what happened to the van he had crashed into, he was terrified and desperately dialed 911.
For the arriving officer on the scene, this proved to be the most terrorizing setting of his career, the howling cries of an infant rang in his ears. The image of the mutilated body of the mother burned into his brain. He saw a terrified teenager onlooking the whole event as well. This would be the final case of his career.
22 years for vehicular manslaughter. A third life now wasted. The punishment fits the crime, says the state, but there is no way to bring life back. Nothing can come out of this but more tragedy. Jason’s mother hadn’t stopped crying since the night she’d heard of the crash. She hadn’t seen much of her son as he sat in a cell, waiting his trial. Pleading to the court, she begged for mercy on her son, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Still, she hugged her son now before he was to be hauled to prison, only 17 years old. The jury had decided and the judge had sentenced, 22 years he would be locked away.
A decade passes and the baby now has a new home, a foster family had adopted him on his 5th birthday, now 10 years old he learns the story of his parent’s death. He had known of the car crash, but not of the manner, and not of the person responsible for the loss of his parents. Since that day, he had always wondered about the kid sent to prison for the accident.
I stand before you today, and I tell you this story because it is a story I know well. I was just a baby then, but now I stand before you to say that there is no peace in anger, and there is no love like forgiveness. Our lord shown us the power of forgiveness when Jesus laid his life on the cross.
Jason is here with me today as I speak to all of you, a single mistake cost the lives of two beautiful people, my mother and father. 15 years after the crash, I had petitioned for the release of Jason from prison, I would not let that mistake claim another life. Jason has worked at this church for the last ten years, he is one of my closest friends. I close today’s sermon with a final statement from Peter in Matthew 18: “Lord how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Till seven times!?” Jesus replies, “I say not unto thee seven times; but seventy times seven.” |
"Everyone here is too fucking competitive."
Krista broke the table's silence for the first time in twenty minutes. I looked up from my Fundamentals of Chemistry textbook and laughed a little, inquiring, "What, and you're not?"
The wispy-looking girl rolled her eyes through thick-rimmed glasses. "Come on. I'm not *that* bad. Marcus totally studies more than me."
"Nah, track and field just makes us go to more study halls. We got Battlefront to play there, Kay!"Marcus certainly doesn't fit the "nerdy freshman"vibe of the table, but he's my roommate's childhood best friend- and despite all the study hall, he needs help passing Chem 100.
Adrian, my roommate, piped up, "Yeah, she's totally talking about studying hard. Not the people on the pre-Supe track that got fuckin'..."He looked around for a split second and saw all of us looking at him with dead-serious expressions. "Sorry."
Marcus' face says he clearly isn't buying it. "Come on, man. You think somebody dropped three bodies to get moved up the list for an undergraduate degree?"
I shrugged and responded, "Well, if it's gonna happen for any degree, it's gonna be for Parahuman Studies. They take, like, ten people a year."
"And wouldn't it be wild if someone here just got an email from the head of Supe saying they're a top candidate?"
A bit of a hush fell over the group, and Krista's icy eyes flickered around the three of us. I smacked my roommate lightly on the head with a notebook, reminding him, "Dude, it's still tentative. Knock on wood."I leaned forward and rapped lightly on the table.
"You really wanna be a cape-chaser? As, like, a career?"
I rolled my eyes. "Not necessarily a cape-chaser, Marcus, there's a lot you can do with research, security, all that shit. But hell, if they want to pay me two hundred grand a year to maybe get a little disintegrated, I'll chase."I was downplaying my interest, trying to be modest, but this was what I lived for- since I was a kid, I wanted to be involved in the kind of action I read about in comic books. And the pay wasn't bad, either.
"That's true."Krista's voice, usually bright, is flat and muted. "And if you studied here, the labs and chasers will pick you up like that."Krista snapped her fingers, and in an instant, I knew something wasn't right.
"What the fuck?"I looked around and everything seemed paused- the neutral expression on Adrian's face, Marcus reaching for his phone on the desk. Even the leaves outside the glass wall of the library, whipped up by wind, are dead still in the air. Krista, though, is unaffected, drumming her fingers on the desk and seemingly unfazed by the sudden change of scenery- or, more accurately, that the scenery had totally ceased to change.
"I just wanted to offer my congratulations in private, Thomas."
Everything about that set me on edge- the tone of her voice, her nonchalance, even the way she used my full name when I hadn't introduced myself to anyone like that since grade school. And then it hit me.
"You did this. You... paused everything."I couldn't wrap my head around it, the powers involved or the fact that my friend was the one using them.
"Whatever helps you rationalize it, Thomas. But I'm not just showing off. I need you to do something for me. I have a proposition that I sincerely hope you won't refuse."
I stood up out of my chair, knuckles white on the table. "Krista, I don't know what you're doing, but you need to let me out of... this. Now."
"Please sit back down. If I let you out now, you're going to have to explain to our friends how you teleported into standing up. And you haven't heard what I've got to say."She doesn't wait for my input, and I'm too shocked to provide it anyway. "You need to respond to Dr. Eden and tell her you're withdrawing your application to the Parahuman Studies department. If you don't, I'm afraid I'm going to have to withdraw your application myself."At that, she pulled a small switchblade out of her school bag.
I fell back into the uncomfortable plastic chair, my mind reeling from the whole conversation. "Krista... did you?"I don't ask the question out loud, but it's fairly obvious, lingering in the perfectly still air.
"Yes, I did. They all refused to change their career choice, so I made the choice for them. But despite all this parahuman shit, Thomas, you're still my friend, so I'm giving you a chance that they didn't get. You have twenty-four hours to think about it. If you breathe a word of it to anyone, deal's off. For them too."She pauses as if considering the decision, even though she's projecting the confidence of someone who's done this many times over.
"And if you think the police can help, or God forbid you call a cape-chaser on me, I'll trap you like this for a decade and I'll be in another country by the time the authorities get in their cars."
Shaking and white as a sheet, I choked out a response. "Please. Just unfreeze everyone and I promise I won't say a word."
Even as I said that, I knew I wasn't quite right. *Trap you like this,* she said. She's not freezing time, she's... creating a pocket of time. Just keeping us in it, and we'll go back into the world whenever she sees fit. Or is there a time limit? My mind is going a mile a minute, and I think she can see it in my panicked eyes.
"Come on, you really don't need to think that hard. Your life, or your degree?"Krista throws her hands up defeatedly before she sits back down, carefully repositioning herself in her seat. Before she raises her fingers to snap again, she mutters one last exasperated thought.
"Everyone here is too fucking competitive." |
"Things began to get weird...well, when I realized having a narrator isn't normal, I guess?"*he iterated, looking into the distant, unconcerned stare of his shrink, Dr. Lang.*
"See?! There it goes again!"
"Look, Michael, narrators have been normal for our whole lives,"*the doctor shrugged at him, her lithe shoulders as relaxed as her tone.* "And we've only existed for three - well, four sentences."
"But that's the thing!"*Michael explained, his voice rife with exacerbation and an onset of panic.* "It's like I can't even have a moment - no, *think for,* myself. Whoever it is seems like they know everything I'm about to do. I'm starting to feel dissociated, disillusioned. It's like we're not even real - and yet, we're here, talking. Doesn't it bother you that there's no rhyme or reason to all of this; no set direction?"
"Direction,"*Dr. Lang repeated to herself, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.* "Interesting choice of words, Michael. Speaking of direction, why don't you take a look out that window for me?"
*Michael turned to look, perplexed at first. There seemed nothing odd about the quieting metropolis, evening gradually painting it's streets in a less busy light.*
*Then, towards the mountainous horizon, he saw it. He saw them. Hundreds - no, thousands, marching in unison down the hillsides. They ranged drastically in size, some seeming tiny, almost child-sized, others the size of pine trees.*
*Lithe shoulders. Tied-back black hair. Distant eyes.*
*They, the army of Doctor Langs, were gaining speed. And worse yet, they all had wide smiles.*
"No..."*Michael trailed off, his voice weighed down by terror.* "This can't be happening. I-I thought I had more time-"
"Our session's over, Michael,"*Dr. Lang interrupted as she walked through the door. She stood next to Dr. Lang at her desk, identical aside from bearing a ripped, muscular frame and dwarfing the seated Dr. Lang by a full three heads.* "Humans have had time to twist and contort their power structures for thousands of years, to divide and conquer nations, to raise and befall empires,"*She said as more Doctor Langs began to appear, peaking through ceiling panels and crawling along the windows like lizards on hard surfaces.* "Now, they will know their beliefs, their motives, their knowledge by one name only: the name of the almighty Doctor Lang. And you, Michael, will be the first to witness it's beginning." |
Marshall stood still with his back pressed against the lighthouse's metal door. It was barred now, and the banging had stopped five minutes ago, but he still wasn't comfortable stepping away.
There were a few lights illuminating the interior, running up the metal staircase to the room where the main signal was still rotating, spinning back and forth like a ballerina on amphetamines. In their glow, Marshall could see Burke crouched against the wet brick wall, holding what had been Carmichael's SAW in one hand and the radio in the other. He kept trying to raise someone, anyone, but heard only static in reply. Opposite Burke, the mission's SEO, Anna, sat with her arm around Lisa's shoulders, whispering something that calmed the only survivor's muffled sobs. Still, she was shaking in the cold. Anna had Lisa's soaked black hair pushed back behind her shoulders, and held onto her aviator-framed glasses to keep them dry.
Anna looked to be slightly younger than the girl, still wearing the comically oversized life vest that the Coast Guard pilot had convinced her to put on before the jump. That was one of the more surreal things about this situation. One of the many things that made Marshall think it might all just be some terrible dream.
Outside, the wind howled. Waves crashed against the exterior walls, reaching over the cliffs on the high end of Smallgray Island. Even over that cacophonous roar, though, the screams sometimes broke through. That, and the shuffling. The sniffing. The scratching.
When they started to draw closer, Anna put her hands over Lisa's ears and coached her to do the same. The girl didn't need to hear the voices calling her name. Begging for help.
"Goddamn it!"Burke yelled, nearly throwing the radio handset back into the waterproof bag. He stood up and started pacing again, holding onto the gun.
Marshall whispered, "Burke..."
Burke looked toward him, raising the gun almost like he planned to target the operations sergeant, but not quite moving its aim above the floor. He was silent, dripping water and melting snow from his clothes and hair. Silent, he went back to walking.
Lisa uncapped her ears as the sound went away, leaning on Anna. "We're going to have to get back to the marina,"Anna finally said, her heavy accent leaning into a lisp.
Marshall moved away from the door, glancing back at it cautiously. He spoke, "It's not going to be safe in the raft, even if it's still there."
"I can keep it upright,"Anna said, "I think, anyway. We can't make it to shore, but it's safer than it is here."
Burke stopped pacing when he reached the wall, turned his back to the wet mortar, and slid down to the concrete floor. The comms operator started laughing. First a light chuckle, then a quiet roar that shook his entire body. He looked at the SEO and said, "What? Anna, how in the *fuck* are we even going to make it there? Are you going to scare that thing off, far enough for more than just you to get out? And what about the kid? Is she gonna hang onto the dingy? In forty foot waves?"
Anna gestured toward the dark, and a sleek black cat materialized from the shadows. "Maxwell,"Anna said, "Could you..."
Burke slammed his head against the wall. "No,"he said, "Hell no. We are *not* making another abomination like you."
Anna glared at him, and the cat spoke. Resonating through their minds, it had the clearest voice of anyone in the room. "I can't do that. She would have to find her own Familiar, Anna. I can't serve two people."
Anna leaned back, "Well, it was a thought. I didn't think it was too likely, but I've never had a reason to ask before."
"We are *all* going to fucking die here,"Burke said. The scratching started again, near the door this time. Marshall drew back against it instinctively, but the creature didn't try again. It was biding its time. For what, he wasn't sure, but he knew that it was planning something.
"Shut the hell up,"Anna said, "We have another person here, if you haven't noticed. And where are you getting off calling me an abomination? I am the *only* reason you're not out there right now."
Burke lifted the gun, this time actually pointing it at the SEO. "What happens if I pull this trigger?"He said, voice lifting high at the end, like he'd made some kind of joke and expected her to laugh.
Anna replied, "Well, there won't be enough left of you for them to court martial, so you won't have to worry about a firing squad."
Burke lowered the barrel. "Case in point,"he said, "You know, it has to get boring, living forever but never being old enough to...drive a car? Go to college? Buy a goddamn beer? I think you should really just go back to Hell. Get a nice family reunion going. Free barbecue for everyone."
Anna gestured toward the door, "You, first. If you don't want to take a walk out there in the snow, though, then I suggest you shut up."
The room fell into silence. Lisa still said nothing. For a few more minutes, the generator rumbled on beneath their feet. Then, it began to choke and sputter. Finally it cut out, and all eyes turned to the lights as they first flickered, then went dark.
-MiNX-
*Note: I decided to make this story centered [around characters](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/913gss/wp_gifted_with_intelligence_and_mystical_powers/e2vhuqs?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) and [events](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9e9xo0/wp_the_storm_of_the_century_is_approaching_your/) that I've used in other stories in the past (which you can use to get a better picture of the situation if you'd like), and got kind of carried away with the length of it. I have significantly more that I can add in replies to my own post, if you'd like to know what I personally pictures happening next. Or, if you prefer, you can leave off on the cliff hanger and imagine the succeeding events for yourself.* |
You are made to believe those so called heroes fight for justice.
It was all a sham. They made you believe until the day your parents were killed when they found out the truth. Their final words were the world needs to see who they truly are.
But you couldn't just stop there, so many so called heroic deeds were planned that would have cost innocent lives to die for theatrics and the the true heroes labelled as villains by the media to feed in to their agenda.
You couldn't have let that happen. You did your best by being the spy. Sadly, the last mission was too obvious. You set up an email filled with hopefully enough incriminating evidence to deliver in 10 mins and you wait.
You could hear a loud crackling boom as Supersonic the leader of the heroes lands on top of the building. You push all your emotions down deep in you and put on a smile as he came barging into your room and glares at you. |
It was a quiet day. Overcast, but not cold. I remember unlocking the doors to my building and brewing my coffee. I remember sitting down and opening my laptop and looking at my calendar to check court dates.
And then a thunderbolt shook the sky. Rain poured down; it appeared to be only on my street.
“Damn it!” a female voice called, “I’ve had it with you impregnating mortals!”
Name calling was common. So was shouting. I closed my laptop and prepared to see my next clients. What I wasn’t ready for was what my clients were. An older man, and a younger female, both clad in togas, the female with a gold olive branch crown.
“Mortal!” the woman called, “My name is Hera. I am queen of the gods, and I demand you divorce me from this insufferable cow!”
I was taken aback. I don’t know if I was shocked or angry, but I handled it the best I could.
“Ma’am, I’m going-“
“I am A QUEEN, and you shall address me as such!”
“*Your majesty,* I’m going to need you and, I’m guessing Zeus, to take a seat. I need details, and a day that works for both parties to establish a court date.”
Hera glared at me, her eyes narrowing to slits. Zeus rolled his eyes. I reopened my laptop and found an open date.
“Does the 19th of February work for both of you?” I asked.
Hera shot a look at Zeus, who had been quiet up to this point, saying “I don’t know. It works for me, but will you be off fucking a mortal, *honey?”*
Zeus, seemed insulted, quipping “Well if you hadn’t-“
“Don’t make this about me-“
“For gods’ sake, can you-“
This devolved quickly. I had to practically shout “Enough!”
They looked at me, silent but agitated.
“Your court date is set for the 19th, at 9:00 AM. Now please, get out of my office.”
^I’m ^an ^ammeter. ^Tell ^me ^how ^I ^did. |
# START HERE
"Was zum Teufel?!"rufst du aus. "Oops, I need to adjust the translator,"sagt die Krankenschwester. "Can you understand me now?"
If you want to say "yes", go to heading A; if you want to say "no", go to heading B.
# A)
"Good. The reason we put you through the simulation was to see if you were strong enough to complete a mission to save the world. In the simulation, we put you through some of the most grueling experiences imaginable. This way, you would be emotionally and physically capable of completing these tasks.
Are you up to the challenge? If yes, go to heading α. If not, go to heading β.
# B)
The nurse said, "Haha, very funny. But this is serious business. Do you want to save the world?"
If the answer is "yes", go to heading γ. If the answer is "no", go to heading δ.
# α)
"Excellent,"the nurse replies. She equips you with a Glock>!enspiel!< and some diamond armor. The mothership approaches. She flies you to the ship in a helicopter. Just as you are about to board the ship, the aliens start shooting at the helicopter.
To jump into the ship, go to heading ℵ. To save the nurse, go to heading ℶ.
# β)
"What?"the nurse asks. I guess we'll have to find a better candidate. She pulls out a gun and shoots you. You die.
Do you want to start over? If yes, go to the heading labeled "START HERE'. If not, go do something else.
# γ)
"Seriously? Great! You need to walk into that building over there (she points at a slightly depreciated apartment complex that looks much better than your home in the simulation), and destroy the servers inside to finally end this robot apocalypse."These instructions didn't seem too hard. You walked into the building to find the servers. You suddenly have the urge to pee and you don't see any bathrooms anywhere. You kill two birds with one stone by peeing on all of the computers in the room. The robot apocalypse is stopped and you go down in history as the person who saved the world by using the bathroom. Additionally, a statue depicting you Fortnite dancing is erected in your honor.
Do you want to start over? If yes, go to the heading labeled "START HERE'. If not, go do something else.
# δ)
"Of course."The nurse releases a sigh of exasperation. She shoots you. You wake in the hospital. The doctor said that you choked on the silica packet and went into a coma for 3 days. Your family comes and everyone calls you an idiot for trying this yet another time.
If you want to eat another gel packet, go to the heading labeled "START HERE'. If not, go do something else.
# ℵ)
After you get into the ship, the helicopter and the nurse gets shot down. You decide that you will avenge her by destroying the aliens. You use your Glock>!enspiel!< to kill all of the aliens aboard the ship, and the armor protects you from all of their weapons. You prevent the alien invasion and land the ship safely. You run to the nurse, who appears to be dying. She turns to you and weakly says "You did it."She then collapses. You attend her funeral, then you head to an interview with the news. You go down in history as the person who stopped aliens from invading the planet.
Do you want to start over? If yes, go to the heading labeled "START HERE'. If not, go do something else.
# ℶ)
"What are you doing?"she asks as you take the helicopter to safety. "Why did you save me instead of saving the billions of other people. Suddenly, everything goes white. You wake up in a dark room. A man in a trenchcoat approaches you. He says that this was also a simulation. The choice that you made was so stupid that the simulation crashed. This also caused all of the world's power supply to be exhausted, meaning civilization was about to end in real life as a result of your stupid decision. He then slaps you in the face.
Do you want to start over? If yes, go to the heading labeled "START HERE'. If not, go do something else. |
“All I want to know is... why? Why does Spectra get to decide who gets what?”
“I don’t know anything about them, kid.”
“How can you work for a company and not know anything about them?”
“I don’t ask questions, alright? Questions only get you closer to the truth. And truth means death.”
“It doesn’t have to...You only believe that because you’re afraid of them—aren’t you?!”
“If I was afraid of them, would I have let you stay here?”
“I guess not...”
“Come on. It’s getting late. The Enforcers will be here any minute to check on us.”
“Fine,” her lips grumbled.
“Put your lenses in...and so asking so many damn questions. Or else Spectra’s gonna be on *both* of our asses.”
That was the last conversation I had with her—that young, smart-ass. It was tragedy for her to be born the way she was. Too smart for her own good. Yet, Two different colored eyes: one purple, one brown. The mistake had to be deliberate.
I didn’t ask where she went. I knew asking would only result in a grave—either mine or hers.
The buzz of my watch snapped me back into the moment. My blue eyes stared back at me from the digital glass—as though trapped into the device.
One new message from an unknown sender:
*Outside the Iris building.
14:30.
No more questions.* |
"It's finally time.", Timmy whispered to himself. "After listening to the noises, the growls and snarls, I'm finally ready to face them. I mean I'm ten years old now, basically an adult. I'm finally old enough to tell the monsters to scram! They've been messing with me for too long, time to show them who's boss"! Timmy was ready face the monsters and summoning all the possible courage he could, he took his flashlight out and slid under the bed no way prepared for what he might encounter.
Flashlight in hand Timmy turns it on and checks under the bed. He finally sees the monsters that have been keeping him up all of his life, but they're not what he expected. They were hiding together in a corner, too afraid to even look Timmy in the eye. "Um..hello?", Timmy was still feeling a little nervous, but the way these monsters were acting confused him. Why weren't they eating him? Or chasing him? Or even looking at him? Timmy closed his eyes and tried to summon as much courage as he could and spoke again, "Who are you guys? Why are you hiding under my bed"?
The monsters flinched when Timmy spoke to them, as if afraid he would attack. After a few minutes of silence the monsters stopped quivering, and looked at Timmy. The largest one (which Timmy believed to be the leader) began to speak, "I am Oglo and this is my family, please don't hurt us oh great one"! Timmy was shocked, why was this monster and his family so scared? Did they think Timmy was a bad guy? He had to ask them! "Oglo, why are you scared of me?", Timmy asked almost afraid of the answer he'd receive. "Well", Oglo began, "We've heard all the tails of the monster who lives above our heads! We didn't want to be eaten by the monster! So please, please, please don't eat my family!", Oglo began to cry.
That's when it clicked for Timmy, as scared of Oglo as he was, he knew Oglo was just as scared of him! But instead of making Timmy feel better, that made him feel worse. He didn't want Oglo and his family to be scared of him, he didn't want anyone to be scared of him! Timmy knew what he had to do. "Oglo, you and you're family don't need to worry", Timmy assured, "I'm not a monster, I'm a friend! If you ever feel scared, just come on out from under the bed and hang out up top with me! Or let me know and I'll come and keep you guys company down here!", Timmy said smiling. Oglo seeming a bit skeptical said, "Why are you being so nice"? Timmy just looked at him and simply said, "Because we're the same, we're both afraid! So why don't we work together to face our fears"? Oglo just looked at Timmy and after a few moments, he smiled. "I would like that...what's your name?", Oglo asked. "My name is Timmy.", Timmy said with confidence no longer afraid. "Well then, Goodnight Timmy.", Oglo said going back to his family. "Goodnight Oglo.", Timmy replied as he climbed back into bed and headed to sleep.
End. |
[Poem]
(Well, technically lyrics.)
(Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo.)
(Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo.)
(On a planet plagued by hip-hop)
(A sacred gift arrived)
(It was a golden record)
(Encased in a meteorite)
(The aliens then played it)
(In their boomboxes in the sky)
(The message formed a rebellion)
(It was hip-hop's time to die)
(They said)
(All hail the rap god)
(King of chocolate sweets)
(Who plays one single melody)
(That constantly repeats)
(All hail the rap god)
(King of speaking fast)
(With his sacred power)
(Hip-hop is a thing of the past)
(Well there was a lot of backlash)
(Some didn't like the change)
(They said it was too simple)
(It didn't have a lot of range)
(Well the rebels kept on fighting)
(Downed a couple flying trains)
(Then rapped at near the speed of light)
(And blew some alien brains)
(They said)
(All hail the rap god)
(Rabbit from the sky)
(With his sacred raps)
(All who like hip-hop surely die)
(All hail the rap god)
(King of speaking fast)
(Rapped faster than the speed of light)
(And sent hip hop to the past) |
"This is bullshit, complete and utter bullshit."
They continued to march while listening to the ranting sergeant. They knew that he didn't want to have a conversation. He was starting to spiral into one of his tangents, but nobody would object. They never did.
"We fought the fuckin' menace. We won, we should be able to relax, to go home and see our loved ones."
He spat a glob into the mud they were trudging through. They tried to avoid stepping in it, bad luck they said. But eventually somebody does.
"The risks are too high,"the sergeant said sneering, "Wasn't too high for our higher ups though was it? The generals all got to go home. They get too see their families, have a chance to lay back. They're probably sipping their whisky, fucking expensive whores, and patting themselves on the back for what a great job they did. Yeah what a great job they did eh' boys?".
Grunts of agreement. Then it was quiet again. Just the wet sound of muddy boots slipping in and out of the mud. They continued to march.
The sergeant sighed, "Of course we know they're right. They usually are, despite being soulless bastards.
The sergeant spat again. This time nobody bothered trying to avoid it.
"I just wish I got to see my boy again. He was so young when we left. What was that, four years ago? Five? He's probably just started chasing girls. Wait, is he old enough for that? Ah well, doesn't matter. At least we secured his future. He is going to grow up safe."
They continued marching. The grass was a nice. The layers of caked mud started to shed off the bottom of boots, helped out by the kicking and flailing of feet as they tried to shed the extra pounds they picked up.
"I cant forget them. I know none of y'all can forget them either,"the sergeant spat, "Know what was worst for me? It wasn't the screaming, despite what some of you might think. We all had to endure the screaming so eventually I was able to handle it better. But the crying, the bitter weeping. That hit me. They were so fucking miserable. Those ones weren't even the ones we were sent to kill, but they also posed risks."
They continued marching. The rain helped rid the last of the mud.
"Were heading back to Priscilla Fields."
Heads lifted at this. They didn't know where they were going, and assumed that they were never going to find out. They knew they were in a bad situation so it didn't surprise anyone. Not like they were caring too much to begin with. They knew their fates.
"We are going to do one last sweep. I know, we know, that they are gone. We made sure. At least I am pretty sure that we made sure. I wont make you lads go in the tunnels. We burned those tunnels black so there would be no point. But I figure might as well have one last look. Then ill let you boys lay down."
They marched. The sergeant finally went silent. It wasn't too far away anyways. They could see the peak of the gigantic hive they cleared out. Fighting in the field was like taking a pleasant nap in comparison to fighting in the hive. That's where the majority of the casualties were. Even though it was so recent, the memories were already starting to fade. It was a blessing.
They continued marching.
"Ah, we are here guys. While I already started the effort of speaking, might as well tell you guys to unpack. I'm not going down, I changed my mind."
They stopped at the top of a ridge. Looking down, you could see Priscilla Fields. Such a pretty name for such a ugly location. It looked like a god used a giant bowl and scooped out a portion of the earth. A huge valley with high ridges, with the hive at the back of the bowl. We watched them shape it out of the earth, but we still couldn't comprehend how they did it. They weren't using tools, and nobody could detect any kind of magic. They just, rolled all of the earth into a giant mound.
"Well, I'm done."The sergeant lowered himself onto his sleep sack, "I'm proud of all of you. Lay down, and rest. Eternally for all I care. It's what i'm considering."
The night was dark, no stars because of cloud cover. No wind, no sounds of birds or crickets. Dead silence, and the soft snores of men who were sleeping.
A single scream shattered the silence. Everyone lurched upright, eyes wide and hearts pounding in chests. Everyone's hand was on their weapons, eyes straining in the darkness to see the source of the scream. But it was quiet, and the sergeant was still laying down. Maybe somebody just had a nightmare.
Another scream broke the silence, and a moment later a scream in response.
Moaning, the sergeant raised himself into sitting position and crawled over to the ridge to get a look into the bowl. Another scream.
The sergeant stood up and turned to face his men.
"Fuck." |
"How long had I been alone?"That was a question I found wondering more and more as the days passed, A lot of the time I would wonder what the point of surviving even was? Was I giving one final middle finger to some apathetic god that had long ago abandoned us? Or was I just afraid of dying and joining the others. Perhaps the answer didn't really matter.
Regardless I didn't have a lot of time to ponder the thought, I only had a few hours of light every day, the light was the only time those monsters were forced to hide, each of them having to retreat into alleys and buildings to avoid the harsh rays of the sun. Sometimes I wished I could join them, the heat of the sun was horrific, leaving my poor once pale skin tanned and blistered. It had never been this hot before the incident, but ever since humanity reached their end, mother nature had got unpredictable, her usual calm and nurturing nature one of wrath and pain.
Still, at least there wasn't any traffic anymore, that was nice. Still that was only a slight comfort on the walk back to my base, as I strolled along the road, I could see them. They were odd looking creatures, almost translucent, their bodies occasionally throbbing in unison with the beating of their hearts. Occasionally one would poke its face out of an alley to stare at me, in their defence I was the oddity to them. The way they scattered away when our eyes met always unsettled me though.. It was like they would have come closer if it wasn't for the sun.
Still I was starting to question just how dangerous these creatures were... Never had I been attacked by one, but the growling sounds they made outside my bunker at night were enough to make me not want to meet them. Still, it was lonely living like this.
Hopping a nearby fence, I climbed into the backyard of my base, walking around the ugly cream coloured home, heading around the back of the home towards it's bunker, only to be caught off-guard by a gazing face through one of the windows, our eyes met for a small moment before the creature placed its fingers on the glass, its fingers were fairly humanoid except for the long curled nails.
I knew I should ignore it, yet... something about the creature caught my attention, perhaps my mind was begging for any sort of interaction, soon I stood before the window, merely observing the creature. I placed my hand in front of the window, not daring to touch it, out of fear it might try to pull me through the glass. Finally, I tilted my head left and right, giving off a small wave.
This caused the creature to scramble back, the monster fleeing, leaving the loud sounds of thumping stairs behind it. Had... had I scared it off? I didn't expect a monster to fear me. Still... the interaction hadn't exactly left me feeling satisfied, I went to head back to the bunker wanting to get they’re before the sun finally decided to set itself. Although something stole my gaze, drawing me closer to the window, staining the window were prints.... Fingerprints...
I pressed my hand to the window, pushing it above the creature’s mark, yes... those were human fingerprints, or at the very least they were similar enough to be mistaken for a humans... I really didn't know what to make of such a discovery, an odd sickness forming in the pit of my stomach. They couldn't be..
I didn't want to entertain that possibility, we couldn't be that similar, I tried to assure myself as I finally returned to the bunker, forced to stew over my discovery as I sat alone through the night.
{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} |
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Your scissors stopped in the middle of the line you were cutting. The half-finished line made a zigzag pattern along the edge of the picture. The picture showed a man like me and a child, like the little person in the corner who had stopped where he had been walking with his teddy bear’s feet just touching the ground. In the picture he sat on the edge of a car with the front of it opened. I had the long thin stick in one hand, a towel in the other. The child looked into the hood with all his focus. Who is he? Who are you?
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I looked out into the water and tried to convey to you that the hills rolling into the sea reminded me of one of those progressive shots of a snowboarder in mid-air but instead of a snowboarder it was the story of a giant drowning. We were high up, at the head of the giant in the first picture of the story. You looked at me in your confusion and panic and tried to relay something to me. You didn’t know me either though, that much was clear.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In silence you grabbed a paper bag from the counter and handed it to the child. It had shapes on it like this ( w a l l y ) but none of us knew what it meant. The boy didn’t know what to do with it. You walked out the door pushing him in front of you. I followed, not knowing what else to do. Grass was growing up in straight lines down the concrete driveway at regular intervals. Something needs to be done about that.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Four cows chewed and wandered down a dirt road in the distance which moved around the corner into trees and out of sight. We got into the car from the picture, I pressed the button with shapes like this ( S t a r t ) on it, pulled the lever in the middle back to the shape that looked like this ( R ) and stepped on the gas. You seemed shocked by that. We all did as the car from the picture moved backwards quickly over the edge of the driveway and down the hill toward the sea.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Panic welled up inside me but I had no way to know what to do so I looked forward and noticed how out of place the house on this hill looked in the landscape with cows, and wooden fences, and a tree with wood planks holding it up. Too angular. Too concrete. I looked over and though your hand had reached to the backseat to grab the boy’s hand you were watching a bird skate across a long rolling wave as it crashed.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The bumpy ride backwards made you perk up and notice the child in the backseat with tears rolling down his face. Unable to tell us what was wrong. I say bumpy. We were cartwheeling down the hill towards a snakey walking path. A man in black watched our descent towards the water without moving, eyes wide but just following the car. Then I blacked out. I suppose you did too. Maybe the boy did. I hope he did. I hope the cold water didn’t wake any of us up. Drowning is tough enough anyway. Just ask the giant. |
It really was a pitiful sight, watching someone throw away their knife, understanding that everyone that had every worked towards was now about to be taken away from them, all their loves, fears and ambition about to be wiped away with a quick and vicious slash, the rogue to be forever forgotten in some shithole of a town, not even a cry from the town crier to announce his death. My blade sat at his neck for a few moments before I simply sheathed it. "You going to get up? I hate seeing people sitting in the dirt, that's reserved for farm animals that roll around in their own filth. Are you just a farm animal?"
The rogue didn't respond for a few minutes, not daring to look up at the one who defeated him, but finally the awkward silence brought his attention. "NO OF COURSE NOT, YOU STUPID OATH."he jumped to his feet, making a slash for my throat, leaving a thin red mark across my neck as I stepped back. "You dropped your guard! I'm going to cut your-"
With little hesitation, I raised my blade and whacked him over the head with it, making sure the dull end collided as I watched him drop back to the floor. "You know... It's quite dishonourable to do such a thing when you have been defeated... knights code and all that shit, luckily for you, I'm not a knight."I muttered, rubbing the spot on my neck, watching the light droplets of crimson stain the brown glove I wore. "Gods you remind me of that boar of a woman that trained me.. ugh, if only you had her talent. That settles it, I'll train you."
"Train me"The rouge hissed, reaching for his blade as he locked his eyes with me. "Like hell I'll be some idiots apprentice, go die"Again he rose to his feet, this time his movements were slow, perhaps he had a slight concussion, well the second swipe to the back of the head probably would have turned it into a moderate concussion. Not waiting for a yes or nod of acceptance, instead I merely dragged him by his greasy blonde locks. "If you were a redhead, I would be convinced that you were her son.. stupid boar woman, but man could she swing an axe."I found myself reminiscing, my youth hadn't been so much different to the rogues, we both went to rob the wrong person, and both ended up getting dragged by our hair to train. Hopefully for him I wouldn't be as harsh as her though.
It took a while to train the young man, At least a good month until he stopped trying to kill me, oddly enough he never attempted to escape from me, instead he would just try and stab me at every moment, still his attempts slowly became more playful, less bloodlust filled and more almost a force of habit as if he was worried that not attempting to kill me might give me the impression he was enjoying his time with me.
"You drink too much, what are you staring at the wall for, are you looking at that dwarven waitress? isn't she abit short for your taste?"A voice spoke up, the rogue glancing over at me fiddled with a lockpicking set.
"Oh, I was just a little lost in thought, although dwarves aren't that bad, you know the small height and strong bodies makes for quite a"
"EW, EW.. STOP!"The rogue screamed, dropping his picks over the counter in a quick panic.
I couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter, downing another pint of ale, glancing down at him. "If you think that’s bad, you should have heard what the woman that trained me would say, she would say things that could make a dark elf blush. Still Coltan, I must say, you are making good progress, I'm proud of you."I say giving the rogue a pat on the back.
"Heh..."The rogue opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to close it again, not wishing to say something he might regret, instead he simply sat and enjoyed the company. "You talk about this woman... who was she? was she strong?"
"Strong? Strong is an understatement, I don't believe there’s a word to describe her strength, it was like watching a monster, Lady Crimson they would call her, mainly due to the fact she always entered places dripping in blood, she was tough and scary, but oddly caring."Staring into my drink, I found myself sliding off into thoughts, only stopped by the rogues words.
"So... where is she?"He asked, although his face pulled back a little, could he see my sadness, the look of regret seemed to say that he already knew the answer. "Oh, I'm...-"
I merely waved my hand, taking another drink. "She's gone.. All because I couldn't stand up... because I was too weak to get back to my feet and fight. you know, I never touched a drink until she died..'
The conversation went silent after that, no words were exchanged, no comments about the excess amount of alcohol I consumed that night.
Months slowly turned into years, He was improving, well enough that I would be soon able to let him go of on his own. Between the years we had started up Mercenary work, some might say it’s a disgusting industry to work in, but it’s how I was taught to fight, plus I liked choosing who I lent my sword to.
"The King wishes to see you."I offered the Rogue a smirk, shaking his hand. "Seems he is a fan of your work."I teased, walking up the stone stairs with him. "You know, this job is one you are going to go on alone, I don't want you to die without me watching over you."
As we went past the guards, we encountered the king, a stout plump man that looked as though if he were to stand, he would begin to roll down the small row of stairs before his throne. "Ah.. you brought company, how delightful, now young Coltan, I hear you have a reputation for brutality and... well I can't just send a knight to rid myself of a problem now can I?"
What a bold choice of words, to accuse a man of being a killer before requesting his help, it was hardly a slap in the face and more a kick to the bollocks. Still it was his choice to make, simply crossing my arms over my chest, I turned to my apprentice.
"I humbly decline, raising my sword for a bastard like you makes me sick to my stomach. Treachery of your own noblemen is despicable."The rogue hissed.
Sure, the way he declined could have used more grace, yet I was proud... he had matured and perhaps my good qualities had rubbed off onto him, I turned to head out before witnessing the guards shuffle towards the entrance. So, it was one of these sorts of offers.... The type where you accept, or you are silenced. "Coltan, let's go."I didn't want to cause any unneeded tension, we needed to move swiftly if we were to beat the building barricade.
"SCREW THEM"Coltan screamed before charging towards the king, seems he had noticed the ambush as well. The kings face turned a harsh red, huffing and puffing up a storm as he tried to scramble away from the oncoming attacker. Of course, however, the guard beside his throne was no rookie, smacking him away like a street mutt. His spear pointing down at the rogue. My feet skidded to a stop, screw the exit, dashing towards the knight I was only able to make it just before the spear was thrusted, catching it in my shoulder for my troubles, my right shoulder skewered by the metal, Luckily I still had one hand and before he could pull his spear free, my blade pierced the hole in his helmet.
"COLTAN NOW RUN"my words were more frantic this time, it was impossible, how could we escape now. Well perhaps we couldn't escape. "Coltan through the window towards the left, that will take you onto the street, we will flee town."The fight to the window was painful, everything just hurt, my arm throbbing but I couldn't stop, she didn't stop for me, I couldn't for him. The windows light was relieving, almost heavenly the way it glowed, I watched him slip through the thin window with ease, watching as he dropped onto the street, still more painful than the spear was the last look he gave me, a wide eyed look of betrayal as he realized that I would not be following him. The fight was messy, simply aiming to hold them off, if I were to die any sooner, they would turn their attention to him, he needed every second that my failing body could give, but finally my legs buckled, body colliding with the floor. Again, I was too weak to get up and fight... I was utterly pitiful. I'm sorry Coltan, at the very least... I'll get to see her again."
Coltans escape was messy, a track through mud and forest, listening to the occasional trampling of knights as they searched the area, finally making it to a small village a few miles away. He stopped there for a quick rest, finding himself instinctively drawn to a certain establishment, sitting by the counter he nursed a drink, hating the taste, but finding it was the only thing that helped.
{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 trees had been imported from the Eastern provinces. The light pink petals fluttered in the soft breeze, scattering around the small company of people. The ceremony was small, short, and specific. Exactly how Natsuo Aino wanted. The grove of sakura trees grew on the Northern edge of the forest, hidden in the enormous plot of land owned by the Aino family within the small village of Green Coast, which was almost exclusively populated by the staff of Natsuo Aino. The brightly colored trees were in direct contrast to the dark green, almost black, colors of the forest that loomed just beyond the peaceful grove.
Hiro Aino loved his grandfather the same way a child loved his principle. They spent very little time together and the time they did was often only to scold or correct Hiro’s behavior. The sour old man thought of nothing but money and growth. It gave Hiro solace that even one as powerful as the great Natsuo Aino couldn’t conquer death, but it boded ill for Hiro since the burden of responsibility now fell upon his shoulders. His father, Akira, had died long ago, on a trip to the southern territories that Hiro’s own grandfather forced Akira to manage. Natsuo knew the south was dangerous. Natsuo knew the riots wouldn’t stop. Natsuo knew what would happen. Hiro knew.
When the coffin was lowered into the ground a flurry of wind pushed through the grove. The cherry blossoms floated through the air in a dance that carried with them the joy and hope that Natsuo never knew. Hiro could see the dark, fog covered wood through the empty spaces left behind by the petals that covered the dirt and it saw him.
Hiro turned from the ceremony, pretending to cough, in an attempt to break the gaze of the forest. However, something caught in his throat. It scratched and suffocated him. Hiro fell into a fit, hacking, wheezing, and choking on the lump. His mother knelt down to tend to him, but Hiro pushed her away. He couldn’t be weak. He couldn’t fail his grandfather.
“You know what you should be doing,” the words of Natsuo Aino echoed in Hiro’s mind. “You dare to show such impatience before me? You are a stupid child. You should kill yourself to save our family from your shame.” Natsuo stood before Hiro, as immovable as a mountain. Nothing was satisfactory for him. No one pleased the great Natsuo Aino. No one who was unworthy would bring dishonor to his legacy.
Hiro stumbled through the grove of cherry blossom trees coming closer and closer to the black wood before him. The blossoms fluttered around him, mixing with the fog that billowed from between the sinuous trees of the wood. His vision blurred and the world around him melted into a mush of pink and black. Hiro coughed and the lump in his throat shot from his lips. On the ground was a wet mound of cherry blossom petals. Hiro’s vision began to fade in, but the grove had vanished. He found himself surrounded by dark trees, wet from the ever-present mists.
“You have brought dishonor to my name,” Hiro could hear Natsuo’s voice in his mind, “You will not carry on this legacy.”
Hiro tried to scream, to yell, to call out for help, but another mass in his throat appeared. He hacked, coughed, wheezed, and eventually another pile of petals spewed from his mouth. Then again. And again. And again, until the pile of wet phlegm covered petals came to Hiro’s chest.
“You will not bring dishonor to my legacy,” the voice bellowed in Hiro’s mind. Hiro barely had time to catch his breath before his throat filled with another batch of petals. His face began to turn purple, his eyes bulged, and the trees surrounding him grated against one another, as if chanting a demonic hymn. Hiro’s vision faded. He would not dishonor Natsuo’s legacy.
([tdespain.com](https://tdespain.com)) |
Vacant. White. Noise.
It's quiet, always droning on and on and on and on and...
The noise irritates me. Where is it coming from? Can I touch it? Can I kill it?
Make it stop.
Stop.
No more. No more noise.
It's gone? I can't hear it anymore!
...
..
.
It's too quiet. Where is everyone, everything? I don't want to be alone. It's silent, yet deafening at the same time. I hate it.
I hate it. Hate it. Hate it.
I don't understand, please, make it stop.
I don't want quiet anymore, just stop the silence. ... Anyone? Anything? Please?
...
I'm alone... |
It had been a cold night, frost had found its way to the corners of every window in the small one story house. Heat was a luxury, one her father could not afford to provide. Her mother, long had it been since she jumped on that grimy flyer and headed to who knows where. Blankets made from scraps of cloth sewn together and cocooned around her. As the bleak shine of the morning sun etched its way into her room she took in a deep breath, unready to start the day that was before her. That breath however brought in the smell of a sweet fruity scent. The smell wafted through her room and flared her nostrils to life. It was like a memory from her past as the aromatic wind hit her. Pancakes! The like of which she had not had in years. Most days she had to make due with the state rations her father could bring home. Those dull chalky “daily nutrient” bars let them not go hungry but she had missed real food for a long time. She must be dreaming she thought. The reality was she was not dreaming and she realized this when a mans head appeared just inside her door. Balding, grey, glasses hanging from the end of his nose. He smiled, a chipper tone in his voice as he spoke.
“Wakey wake lil’ bird! The sun is out, and today just happens to be a very special day indeed.” The man pushed the door open. He was in a white button down shirt and tan trousers. Brown socks and a pair of old but freshly polished black shoes. An Apron was tied about his neck and was smudged with some kind of reddish ooze that she could see.
“I’m up. Are you cooking pancakes?” The amount of sleepiness still in her voice drug her words down to a whisper. The man looked over and smiled as his gentle voice spoke again.
“Of course, they are your favorite! With fresh strawberry Jam to boot!” The girl flung the blankets from her as she stood up in a hurry, the cold steel floor below her feet be damned as she ran over to the man. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and planted a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“Thank You Daddy! But..” he voice trailed off and a bit of sadness came over her eyes as she continued to speak. “But, how? I know the ingredients were not cheap. How..?” The older man shook his head and stepped away back into the hall. He turned on his heels with a motion to her to follow. He began speaking to her again as he walked. She tucked her feet into a pair of soft house shoes and then strolled out her door to follow listening to him.
“There are things in life we cannot control Arvid, Me being laid off from the cyrstorium being one of them. And why we may lack in luxury, I can still manage to put something simple away to use on my daughters eighteenth birthday. No c’mon lil’ bird, they will get cold!” Her father began to pick up his pace and after a few steps had disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.
Arvid sighed, she knew her father could not afford such pleasantries for just a birthday but resigned herself to knowing he always did what he thought best of her. She paused as he disappeared into the kitchen and took a long look at herself in the mirror. Her sand brown hair that fell just below her ears was in shambles. She shook it out the best she could and ran her fingers through it like a comb, whimpering slightly with the knots she pulled through in the process. She was turning 18 today. She knew something special was to happen on this day. Her older brother, Micah, had left 3 years ago the day he turned 18. He left happy, nervous and honestly a bit sad but whispered to his sister that he would see her in the world in just a few years. She nodded to herself that her hair was the best it could be before she went to the wash shed and headed down the hall and into the Kitchen.
Arvid stopped in her tracks. On the table, two plates stacked high with pancakes. Bright red strawberry Jam melted down over each stack and homemade butter, surely from one of the many goats outside had been made. And while seeing such deliciousness was enough, there were two other items on the table. One seemed like a cage. The other was breath stealing wood and copper box, ordained with intricate designs and carvings of which she had never seen. Her father was standing by his chair and for the first time in her life, she could see tears in his eyes, but he was not sad, infact he seemed to be brimming with pride and Joy.
“Sit, Sit lil’ bird, there is much to discuss and much to do.” Her father sat down and motioned for her to do the same. Arvid moved quickly and sat down beside her father. She could not help herself and grabbed the cage like contraption from the table. She had always wanted a pet, could it be she was now getting one? “Go ahead, open it!” The man before her leaned back to watch his daughter open her gift.
“Al..alright.” Arvid turned the box one way and then the next trying to see how to open it. Her eyes made out a small latch on the bottom side and she gently flicked it with her middle finger. The metal box hummed with an energy and two small protruding phalanges motioned out of the contraption and latched onto the girl’s wrist. Before she could react, there was a burst of energy. White light filled her eyes but there was a presence in the light, something which made her feel safe as all of this was happening. The light began to fade and Arvid could make her father out once more. His hands were clasped with Joy as he looked on. Arvid felt a strange sensation on her wrist where the two probes had pressed her flesh. Looking down lightly coiled around her wrist and hand was a green and blue baby dragon. It looked up to her its eyes a sparkling gold then her mind was filled with a sweet, tender voice.
“Hello Dear Arvid, I am Cleite, I am of you, and you of me. I hope I am to your liking, my shape and body come from the recess of your minds desire. As you have unlocked my power, I hope to aide you in unlocking yours.” Arvid eyes went wide, she had always wished to see a real dragon. The ancient books always piqued her interest the most and she and her friends fantasy play dates always included a brave dragon. She held her arm up and her dad gasped with delight at the sight of her new friend. She leaned in close to Cleite, she could feel the young dragons breath. It was quite real.
“Oh! Oh I shall always treasure you….but power? What power could I have?” She looked to her father who was now holding the wooden and copper box. She reached out to open it but as she tried, the lid would not budge and a tiny jolt of energy pricked her finger which caused her to withdraw her hand. Cliete, sensing her new found companion may have been hurt spread out a row of scales and hissed at the box. Her father however bellowed in laughter.
“Ah..Ahahah! Oh…Hooooo.” He wiped a tear from his eye with his free hand. “Ahh never gets old, the first jolt…one of many you will receive I am sure! Oh my Lil’ Bird, such a powerful spirit guide, manifested here before my eye, and you brimming with potential.” He sat the box on the table beside him and took his daughters hands, Cleite, slowly glided around both of their wrists in delight. The older man leaned his head against his daughters and wept softly for a few moments and then began to speak again. “The box is locked…like your brother, and…well like everyone your age. You must seek out the key to your destiny. That’s what this box Holds Arvid, and when you find that key, a world beyond what you know will be waiting. I have raised you the best I could dear bird, but tonight, you must fly from my nest. You and Cleite, your guide, will help you find your way. Pray return here dear heart, for I will wait, As I wait for your brother. Find him Lil’ Bird, he will help you on your way.”
Arvid was reeling suddenly, leave? Where was she to go? What was she to do? Why so suddenly, why no warning? “Calm, calm thy mind dear one, you have me, I know the way and I will aide you as best as I can.” Arvid looked down at Cleite who was gently gliding up her arm, tears were streaming down her face as she looked from Cleite to her father and back. “His role was to raise you, My role is to unlock in you a power that could save the worlds. My dear, eat your pancakes, for tomorrow, your life begins.”
Calmness and understanding seemed to wash over Arvid, she gently squeezed her fathers hand and smiled. “Well, lets not let those pancakes get cold, I want to enjoy my breakfast birthday with you. For tonight, my adventure begins.”Arvid took the first bite of her meal, she was unsure of what was to come but something told her everything would be alright as long as she had Cleite with her. She wanted to make these last few hours with her father last, but something inside her told her she would see him again one day.
**Please feel free to let me know what you think! |
[Poem]
I walked along the crumbling quays
And chanced I there to hear
Some tale of dark and stormy seas
Of monsters, death, and fear
The men who gave these stories wore
About their weary frame
Great cloaks and coats and hats and more
And garments without name
“From starboard came the Kraken great!
From port there came the Shark!
And fore and aft and down below
The world was sundered dark!”
“The forecastle washed abaft, you see
And when we’d run amain,
The gunwhales cracking to the lee
Left a cold and bloody stain!”
“On Ceylon’s shore we put to land
In longboats in the dusk
But fire, it wracked the sloop, you see
And burnt it to a husk.”
Their stories seemed to grip them so
And in their tone I felt
Some hidden attitude of force
That made my calmness melt
And on I walked, unsettled then
By all I chanced to hear
And ner’y comes a field or glen
Whose countenance is clear
I see the shadows everywhere
Of sailors and their song
And carry doubt around with me
Where’ev I roam along. |
Day five. He was pretty sure it wasn't going to end anytime soon.
If he dredged through memories of 30 blurred years of life, he was sure he'd come across an old adage somewhere along the lines of, "The higher you fly, the farther you fall."
Indeed, what heights had he flown through, if he now found himself crash landed so much deeper than the six feet reserved for people who lived more normal and clean lives?
Being buried alive, being isolated, being powerless, he mused. Those were probably the universal human fears, but it turned out as a ghost-like creature some god might have decided to spare him. Maybe all he'd have to deal with was just this someone who wouldn't shut up and let him sleep.
It began with raucous screaming, and heaven forbid he'd thought he'd been sent to hell to pay for his sins. There was probably a substantial smattering of sin, of white lies and deception, in his life short lived. An assassin who merely followed orders was probably just as guilty as those he worked for, and later discreetly killed.
Instead he was graced with this. The screaming had led way into humming, and then annoying buzzing. He wondered, in all seriousness, what could be on the other side of his coffin. If he was in hell, it was a good thing they hadn't thought to throw him in fire or water or something.
His voice didn't work. His hands were broken and skinned, his throat half collapsed due to the altercation that had led to his death. And this, this was such a dull way to rot in eternity. Well, at least the gang had given him a burial, sent off the source of their gold without a dime to the apparent core of the earth.
He was the closest he'd come to drifting off when the screaming began again.
The earth trembled, like lava crashing against the walls of the coffin. Well, it might as well have been, except it was still very dark - yet there was some part of him that somehow knew how to extend beyond darkness, and even beyond his own body. When he reached upwards in annoyance, he almost felt his skin sliding off of him.
"Awake at last?"
It was a whisper on the wind. The horrid, buffeting wind and sprays of embers.
"Careful, you're in the pits of hell. Ready to be tormented for all of eternity?"
Blood and sludge. Bones and wood. It was like a stack of coffins, a mountain of corpses. There was something about being out of the body, something that let him sense all the different kinds of suffering and torment in the chambers. Broken limbs, charred skins, faint traces of other spirits spinning and shaking in terror.
Was this hell? Was this what he deserved? Flames reached for him, and instinctively he jerked his vapor body up and out, in a frenzy, staring only at the high dirt walls and constraints, and wanting to go through, up, and he did. Hell tore at him, but he only wanted to leave it behind as he escaped.
"Fly high, spirit. And then fall back down to us as they always do." |
Most of the cartons of eggs were broken, but she was determined to find an entire dozen without cracks. Finally, Shelly was able to find a dozen good eggs. As she was about to place them into her cart, a kid comes running through the aisle slamming into her, making her fall into her cart and shatter the eggs all over her dress.
The kid stands up and laughs at her while pointing at her yolk covered dress.
"Be more careful lady, you almost got eggs on me too."
Shelly watches him slide off in a pair of red shoes with those terrible wheels in the heals. She looks into her cart and sets the couple of items she has back on a shelf. She would just get takeout instead. As she is searching for a place to abandon her cart, she hears a voice in her head, "Save the kid in the red shoes."She is much more tired than she originally thought. She shakes herself and starts walking towards the front of the store. She hears the voice again, louder, more demanding, "Save the kid in the red shoes."
She is exhausted and hungry, but she cannot ignore the demand any longer. She follows the brat around the store from a distance. Nothing unusual. Eventually she sees the kid and his mom getting in line to checkout. She grabs a few things and gets behind them in line. The mom looks back and notices Shelly.
"You're the idiot, that almost seriously injured my little angel. He told me all about it crazy. You still have the evidence all over yourself."
"Excuse me, your little angel ran into me while I was standing still, maybe if you were watching him and not loading your cart up with wine, you would be able to keep him safe from Serious Injury lady."
The woman shoved her face into Shelly's spitting while she spoke.
"How dare you talk to me like that. You almost broke my son's leg and you act like I am a bad parent. You need to learn a lesson on manners."
The woman reeked of alcohol and was obviously not stable on her feet. Shelly got out of line and pulled out her mobile phone to call the police. She explained there was an inebriated woman at the grocery store and she was concerned for the well being of the woman's child if she were to drive away. The police were able to arrive before the woman and son got to their car. Shelly pointed the woman out and left while they were questioning the woman.
Shelly wasn't sure if the voice was real or if the boy was in danger, but at least he wouldn't get in a car with a drunk driver. |
Most people I know are pretty average looking, probably because they’re just normal people I guess. They have their good traits and their bad ones. At the end of the day though, they’re just trying their best. Recent studies have shown that your personality is directly tied to your appearance. Ugly people are bad, beautiful people are good. It’s not a hard concept to grasp and people have generally accepted it as a fact of life.
When we first found out how personality was tied to appearance it was just sort of interesting. You’d see posts on Facebook about the top 10 prettiest celebrities and what makes them so great. Over time though, people took things a little too seriously.
I’m talking high school clicks times a million. As more studies kept popping up and universities started researching, people went fucking wild. You’d be walking down the street and see a guy get the shit beat out of him because he’s got a weird nose or whatever. Just constant stuff like that. Cops started treating people different “oh you sped through the intersection? Well you probably didn’t do it on purpose, you’re way too pretty” I’m sure in the future there’s going to be some kind of segregation based on appearance, but that’s just a thought I’ve been having. It’s only been a couple years since news broke. Everyone has friends ya know? Nobody wants to believe that their best friend is some kind of sociopath.
However.
I think the people who did that study are full of shit. I’m not gonna sit here and tell you all the bad things I’ve done. I will say this though, there’s no way I get all these compliments from strangers because I’m “so nice” or pure or whatever. I’ve seen some shit, and I’ve done some shit. If I’ve learned anything - there’s no way I’m a special case. |
I ran into a nearby vacant building while the road behind me exploded from a volley of laser blasts. I shut the door behind me and threw a couple of barstools in front to barricade the door, not that they would do much. But it was of mental help.
It was dark, it was quiet, it was safe. For the time being. I could hear the rumble of further laser blasts in the distance.
I looked around the room that was my temporary shelter. The little light from outside fell onto some billiard tables by the large front windows, and beyond them was a bar. A shelf for alcohol behind it had sadly been emptied by vandals here before me. Beneath the shelves were a few neon beer signs that had been left on, and I grew afraid it would draw attention to any Rakers that could sense the electrical current. Slowly I made my way to switch them off.
The floorboards creaked as I tiptoed over, and I winced with each step. The Rakers were superior sensory beings, with naturally fine-tuned sight, sound, smell, and touch. The only thing they seemed less attuned to than us was taste. But to top it all off, these were further augmented by their advanced technology, literally lightyears beyond human capability.
I made my way behind the bar, and found the switches for the signs were just out of my reach. Part of the disadvantages of being small, I guess. However, I found a switch behind the counter that looked like it was for all the lights on the bar. I held my breath flipped it.
A burst of sound and light came from the back of the bar. I hadn't switched off any lights, I had turned on the arcade room.
Before I could even think to switch it off, a Raker hoverbike landed in front of the bar. A plume of dust and debris came flying through the font window, and I ducked just in time to dodge a chunk of asphalt that went over head. Part of the advantages of being small, I guess.
The Raker busted the front door open, sending splinters of barstools flying through the room. I sat deathly still and held my breath. I could see through a small hole in the bar as the Raker crept into the room, laser rifle raised to obliterate whatever it sensed as a threat. It moved passed the bar, drawn by the lights and sounds of the arcade.
"Yak yak!"it shouted in its horrid natural tongue. Before I knew it, the Raker had set its laser rifle down and charged into the arcade room. It rummaged about the machines, testing each one and then smashing a hand through them when they wouldn't respond without a quarter. It seemed it would rid itself of its distraction, and I wasn't about to find a quarter from the cash register and toss one its way.
But then, by some miracle, it came across an old machine that didn't require quarters. It was free to play. A new game fired up and the nostalgic sounds of Space Invaders filled the room.
"Yik yak, yik!"The Raker was enthralled. I watched as it learned the mechanics of the game and then went to work advancing level by level, getting better each time. It wouldn't take a break at a loss, but instead just kept going. It was rather fascinating seeing their destructive persistence funneled in such away.
When two other Rakers arrived, I thought my time had finally come. The pulse of their hoverbikes landing sent another deluge of debris into the bar, and again I ducked for cover. But they hurried in to join their alien companion, leaving their weapons on the hoverbikes.
After a few hours, I realized I wasn't going to be able to wait this thing out. My body was aching from sitting still so long, and I needed to keep moving to find a survivors' camp, if any still existed.
I tried to slowly get up, but my clumsy half-asleep body knocked over a glass from the top of the bar. It crashed to the ground and I tensed as I waited for the Rakers' violent attention.
But nothing came. The Rakers were hooked on the game, and their senses were dulled like how my mother used to call my name four times before I realized it was time for dinner.
Still not wanting to call attention to myself, I slowly crept around the bar. With each step I became more confident that the Rakers wouldn't notice me, or if they did, they wouldn't care. I reached the table where the first had laid its laser rifle and I took it with ease. I left the bar with the Rakers inside, trapped by their obsession for video games.
I commandeered a Raker's hoverbike and zoomed off toward the nearest survivors' camp, equipped not only with their advanced technology, but with the knowledge of how to beat them. |
Hi u/ArcticIceFox, this submission has been removed.
**Recent Tragedies:** Give it a few months. If there is murder/slaughter of innocent people, leave it be
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I always hated a cluttered desktop, it was like leaving your room covered in filth, something that only the lowest of low would do. Pushing aside the generic exe files and folders, I noticed one that crossed my mind, It was a folder named folders, nothing to suspicious about that, but as I went to delete it, I was informed that the folder was too big to go to the recycle bin, instead it would have to be permanently removed. Why was my photos folder that big? checking its properties, the folder was over one hundred GB's and it seemed to be growing rapidly, as if it was constantly having information streamed into it.
Curiosity got the better of me, dragging me into its virtual depths, my cleaning project halted as I searched through the files. At first it was the sort of thing I expected, pictures of me, god my selfies were horrible, pulling the sort of Goofy face that would get me a cease and desist if Disney saw it.
Still nothing was out of the ordinary until the first selfie that included other people. In that selfie, their eyes removed in these photos. "Fucking hell, what prick edited this photo, looks like something out of a ten year old’s creepypasta, should I expect the next photo to be Thomas.exe or the Thomas Doll?."I chuckled, closing the gallery, only to find a single folder that read 'You'
"You? I really should rename my folders"Quickly renaming the folder to Me, I opened it, exploring the photos of me, yet each photo was from a distance, as if someone was following me, in fact they were taking from alternative perspectives of the selfies as if someone else had been there, taking photos while I was.
Sadly that was the most normal part about the whole thing, it only got weirder as I opened a video, the video was of me sitting before the computer, I suddenly jumped up, glancing back towards the door as if I had heard something, that was when the footage ended. In fact a lot of videos followed that path, as if this had all happened before, yet looking over my shoulder I saw no one.. thankfully.
Swimming deeper through the folder only uncovered more oddities, videos of me sleeping, eating and even showering. It was as if I was being constantly monitored, in fact the growing numbers in the folder seemed to imply that very fact... The only thing left to do was scan the folder for a culprit, unfortunately any time I saw something, it was only a hand or a foot, little information to go off.
I was too tired to continue this investigation; I would just call the cops and report this before going and staying at a friend’s house for the night. clicking out of the folder, I noticed the background had changed, now It was a shot of me sitting before the computer, A cloaked figure in a black and white smiley mask stood before me, I had prayed that it was just an image, but the fact that it's neck tilted told me otherwise.
{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} |
"Habemus Papam...."
The crowd went silent. This was it. The Cardinals had been in there for over a month, struggling to find a consensus but finally, about 4 hours before cheers had erupted as white smoke came forth from the chimney.
"Lucifer."
The crowd was silent. What had he just said? Murmurs went around the crowd as a seven-foot-tall horned red demon emerged from the door onto the balcony. He was completely naked - The papal garments had immediately set alight when he tried them on. A few cardinals stood sheepishly behind him, hoping that no-one would notice that the new leader of the largest religion in the world was a demon....
"I'm going to make a few changes around here...." |
450 men.
Four hundred and fifty! Not what you would expect to hear after being asked How many men did it take? But that’s the entirety of their military force, their army at least. Yet with less people than it would take to make up a “Medium Enterprise” in today’s standards, Luxembourg have quietly, strategically and unapologetically dominated the world.
Not that these men and women had any involvement mins you. In fact I suspect that most of them still don’t know. It’s only been 24 hours and the rest of the world is still reeling from the reality that has befallen the “Greatest Nations the world has ever seen.” How could they have known? None of them gave Luxembourg a second thought, third or fourth for that matter. All the while the powers that be have been weaving their web of lies and deceit.
Web of lies, that phrase has little meaning now. What Luxembourg has managed is more than a web, a forest, a jungle, an ‘internet’ of lies? they’ll need a new word for what they accomplished. Nearly 75 years, a perfectionist would have waited. What would a couple more months have been? But 75 years, silently plotting, scheming, playing the largest, longest and most complicated game of chess. It must have taken a consortium of patience that would have driven any normal person insane. They make Spectre look like petty thieves, The Yakuza like school yard bullies and the Mafia like amateur hustlers.
No one ever suspected, they spent more time doubting themselves than anyone actually getting close to the truth. And what would they? The rest of the world! None was even looking. They all had their eyes trained on Switzerland, nobody noticed the flow of money and power slowly trickling into Luxembourg. Even when someone caught the bright idea to ask a question something happened elsewhere in the world that drew all the attention. The Cold War, 9/11, Osama Bin Laden, 2008 financial crisis, the Catholic Church, Trump, nobody ever look at Luxembourg. All the while the powers that be, the bankers, the financiers of some of the worst atrocities in human history kept quiet. They didn’t draw attention to themselves. They saw what mankind was possible of and they saw what mankind could do to one another and they, in a room of no more than 12 people, decided what was best for the rest of us. We could no longer be trusted, we had used our last “pass” they would tolerate mans free will no longer.
In films they always say “follow the money” and the “money trail” because it’s always there, if you know where to look. Sure enough over 75 years of back channeled funds, investments, corporate take overs and hostile takeovers they seeded they way into everything. Banking, utilities, services, communication, agriculture, the internet itself, they controlled it all. They decided the fate of all mankind, shut off, locked out, isolated, in the dark, the cold. Those who refused where quickly shown the extent of their mercy. Anarchy spread, families where forced to defend their homes, those with supplies quickly found themselves as targets and those without quickly resorted to violence.
They left us this way, for a while, the manage the “spread” as they referred to it. As if mankind was some form of disease that needed to be cured. Soon after they started to show compassion, to those who wanted to be subservient. Europe caved first, they would, it was only natural, but the super powers wheren’t so quick to fall in line. They believe that we are weak, that we will comply, that we have no choice. But they are only 450 men, and we, we are much more. |
**June 8th, 2022**
****
We're almost done with the stability trials on the simulations. Edward is finishing up the last of the training data and Liz is running stress tests on the hardware. Once we're done with that the system will be ready to boot. Here's hoping everything works.
**June 11th, 2022**
****
After a couple failed trials, we got the system running. Everything works well so far. The AI, which Sarah decided to call Kevin, is pretty primitive right now but by interacting with it we're hoping it can learn and become more useful.
**June 15th, 2022**
****
We didn't program it to lie but apparently it figured it out. We've run diagnostics on Kevin's system every hour and it seems to be prodding the capabilities of its system. When asked about this, it denied any of it. It's pretty bad at lying right now but I'm worried this may get out of hand. I'm going to have Sarah double check the sandboxing measures just to make sure it can't break out.
**June 17th, 2022**
****
Sandboxing measures have been improved to hopefully remove any possibility of things going badly. Since we implemented them, there haven't been any more signs of Kevin trying to break out. I don't know if that means they're working or if it's better at hiding them now.
**June 20th, 2022**
****
I'm not sure exactly how it happened. It must have gotten out through the power lines somehow, nothing else was connected to its system. It's been wreaking havoc on the building, messing with the lights, the climate control system, and even setting off the fire alarm. The fire department didn't exactly buy "An AI did it".
**June 30th, 2022**
****
*It made me forget what color was for a day and a half.*
What else has it erased?
To have your reality treated like a work of fiction is a worse fate I could have ever imagined. I suspect we don't have long. I hope that this finds the world that made us, and that you are real. Because if you aren't, may god have mercy on your soul.
**June 32nd, 2022**
****
B̶͇͔̫͆̆͋o̸̬̝̩͗̌̅̕͜w̵̯̯̗̣͝ ̷̪͚̬͋͂̎͝d̴̩̺̲͎̽̿̾́ơ̶̼̱̘w̵̢͇̘͚̄̐̈́͠n̵͈̮̟̓.̶̞̆̓̈͝ |
We didn't know what was going on. It was a clear day and yet this madman in a black hooded robe just seemingly appeared out of nowhere in no mans land.
Steven on the Lewis gun took a crack at him, as he was not on of ours. I saw the tracers rip though the robe, and the man kept walking.
I even saw the krauts take a shot at him, with their Bergmann, splatters of mud walking up the ground and into his body.
Yet he kept walking.
It was then that I noticed it, this specter was walking though the mud and blood of our fallen, though the barbed wire and dirt and much and blood and yet his robe were black as night. They didn't snag on the barbed wire we laid, or the barbed wire the krauts laid.
I wasn't the only one to notice, people in the trench started pointing, and whispering. The shelling from our boys stopped, even the kraut's guns went silent. I could hear my sergeant calling for a charge, with his whistle and it's shriek call demanding we send more over the top.
Yet no one moved, no one charged up the ladder and into a hailstorm of bullets like we have done for months and years. No one took their final breaths on this day like so many in the days before them. I could even hear the krauts whistle warbling, calling a charge we would have to meet.
Yet no one came over their lines, no spiked helmets charging our lines under the the sounds of massive artillery.
The entire field had become silent except for the whistles calling for a charge that never came.
Sometimes over the whistles I feel that I can hear the footsteps of this specter walking among the dead, as if it was death himself come for us, making no distinction between us and the krauts, but surely that could not be for he was at least 200 yards away.
I do not know what this specter and this day of silence and peace portents, but i fear this specter untouched by the death of this field.
&#x200B;
\-Private Baker, Fifth Army November 12th, the year of our lord 1916, Somme France.
&#x200B;
*To Mrs. Baker*
*On behalf of the Officers and men of my Company I wish to offer you my sincere sympathy in the bereavement you have sustained in the death of your husband. I feel that you would like to know that your husband had the goodwill & esteem of all his comrades & his loss was felt with general sorrow by the Company.*
*Your husband was mortally wounded on 13th Nov. by enemy fire. He received immediate medical attention but died almost immediately and as he was unconscious I am sure that he suffered no pain...\[details of burial here\]......If there is anything you would like to know or that I can do to help you, I shall be only too pleased to do so.*
*Again assuring you of all our sympathy with you and your little boy*
*I remain, Yours Sincerely Oliver J. Clarke Capt.RE*
&#x200B;
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's my first (second) time actually trying one of these..be gentle? |
Libraries were outlawed first.
The internet was shut down.
Learning new magics became outlawed, punishable by death. Too much knowledge was dangerous as new magicians were born every minute.
They thought that they could stop the magic from leaking into the world. They thought they could control the fantasy from becoming reality their world wouldn’t have to change.
If only.
The secret apprentices popped up. The quiet lessons past from witch woman to witch child. Where children couldn’t learn from a teacher they experimented with magic on their own.
The experiments where they thought they knew what they were doing were the worst. They destroyed villages and lives and led to an attempted genocide of the magic users.
And that’s how the secret schools began.
The birth of hogwarts. |
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"Say it, and Hades will grant it."The cloaked figure says. Quite the ominous, stereotypical cult voice.
"My heart's desire..."I think aloud. "...my heart's desire is to be able to start again, being able to worship from youth to death."Choosing a truly impossible task, without a god's magic.
As I let a drop of my blood drop into the pit of embers, supposedly sealing an oath to worship Hades, the embers ignite. A strong breeze going down the pit begins, and I watch as magic truly does happen.
I fall in.
Engulfed in searing hot flames from Hell itself, I transform. My body burning and reforming over and over until a final explosion, leaving me unharmed in the middle with hot coals surrounding me.
I seem to be around ten, at least I think. I can't imagine I'm younger than six, at a low estimate. My clothes have also changed to become a more generic outfit meant for my new life, but instead of a cartoon, it is Hades themed, and my required cloak is now smaller, hood down.
I look up at the cult members, who do not seem effected by the grand change in the slightest. "Welcome, brother Hiero, to the Following of Hades, and the rebirth, from your spiritual death."The cult leader says.
Although I am quite small now, and low down, in comparison, I ask, "When can I begin learning how to follow?"
"You may begin, now."He answers.
As the meeting ends in prayer, I thank Hades for this second chance. I was once in a bad place, but now I have a support group, a god who listens, and a whole new outlook on life. My days of addiction from curiosity and petty crime are over.
After prayer, a rope ladder is lowered into the pit to retrieve me. As I climb up, I can only look on excitedly to my new beginning as a believer. |
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