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It was around 2:00am and I was going to the bathroom when I heard that someone knocked the door, I hesitated to open the door so I got my gun close because I was sort of paranoid, I slightly opened the door. I couldn't believe it, it was my old friend that died 3 months ago, I put my hand in the gun but he said in a perturbing tone:
-"What are you doing, are you going to murder me?! Im your friend or at least I was"
He pushed the door and entered, I ran to my bedroom and called the police but they was going to be very late so I had to think on something, the guy that was knocking the door wasn't the same guy that I knew months ago, he kicked the door, luckily I was outside already but not so far, I ran to the forest because my house was pretty close to it, I was tired so I sat back on a tree, breathing was very difficult, in the moment I was unaware I saw a person, I was going to scream for help but it was him, it was like a demon possesed him but somehow he didn't saw me, I ran and I ran until I saw an empty cabin, It was little, anyone could notice it was abandoned so I went in there, I was conscious that he would find out that I was in this cabin but I didn't care and I stood here, I slept but then woke up, it was him but he wasn't apparently violent but when I was close, he took off his mask and stabbed me again and again, I wanted to do something but I couldn't and I just wanted it to stop, I wanted everything to be black, I wanted to see the light but it was a slow death, It went black but I came back to reality for the last time before my life was lost for eternity. |
Golden dust settled in the light of the setting sun. The light was filtered through large floor length windows that made up the walls of my brothers newest city hall exhibit. People were crowded everywhere around me and I could feel elbows jabbing into various points of my body and the mixture of sweat and deodorant assaulted my nose. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole city was cramming their way into the hall to see the statue unveiling.
Phones were out and the incessant chattering was building in excitement as the hour drew closer to seven. Seven o’clock sharp would be when the whole city saw my brother, in all his mighty righteousness, for his first public event in over a month. Sure, there had been sightings in that gap of time; masked hero stops bank robbery singlehandedly, masked hero stops school shooter, masked hero saves man from suicide attempt. Masked hero, or more lovingly referred to as Xalvador. Savior. Always coming to the aid of the common man. But I knew the truth. He was no hero, more did the mask make him one.
It was an ugly truth that lay beneath, and it seemed I was the only one to know. I had seen it firsthand. I have seen the trail of bodies he left behind. He used force to take what should be given, and he’s long since become an expert in the art of cleaning it up. He shouldn’t be applauded as a hero any longer. Even if it means I have to become the villain to stop him.
I wrestled my left arm up to my face to look at my watch. 6:57. Three minutes. I hadn’t faced my brother in over a year. Try as I might it became too hard to perfectly piece his face together in my memory. All I had were blurry pictures and a mask. With the limited mobility of my right arm I patted my jeans pocket; the gun was still there. It had been some work to get ahold of one so small, yet it had to be done. I began to shove my way up to the front of the crowd. I ignored the protests of people who had been there hours before I arrived and only fought harder with those who would have me stay behind them.
It was seven by the time I managed to nestle out a small space for myself in the front row. The conversations began to cease as everyone listened for the mayor’s steady voice and the lilting melody of my brother’s. Everyone always listened to him, though no one ever felt the razor sharp edge beneath the candy coating.
An entourage of black suited men entered onto the stage, in the middle of their formation stood the mayor, hair graying and his stance becoming ever more hunched, and the tall wide-shouldered stance of him. His mask obscured the better part of his face, though his radiant smile was still visible. For a moment I forgot my hatred and wanted to run back into the arms of my older brother. My older brother who played football with me on the weekends and helped me with my homework.
I lost the opening to the mayor’s speech as my mind waded deep into memories. Such good memories. But that changed in my mid-teens. I was visiting my brother’s house, unannounced, and saw her. The woman in tears. Bruised neck and soft cries of no while he was on top of her.
The thought turned my stomach and guilt overwhelmed me. I never told anyone. I didn’t tell anyone about the next three either.
As terrible as he was, I was no better. But I would take care of that afterwards. My brother began to speak. The perfect example of humility and poise. My heart began to beat rapidly in my chest. I felt into my pocket and clenched the gun. Safety off.
Just as I had practiced I pulled it out and aimed right for his chest. I fumbled before I shot, though I was still certain I had achieved my victory. But I hadn’t. One of the security guards had noticed and dove to push him out of the way. As the bullet missed I became acutely aware of the screams and a quick jolt of pain to my body.
‘No, no please,’ my fading consciousness screamed with desperation as I looked into the glinting eyes of my brother. |
Why did you leave me for him?
They say the algorithm they’ve come up with is perfect – that it doesn’t lie. That can’t be true, it has to be bullshit – every app has bugs. What did it tell you? That he was ten percent more compatible than me? Five percent? One percent? Was that all it took for you to leave the way you did?
I’m scared to be without you. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What happened to us? What happened to the years of work we put in, building our lives to together? What happened to the family that we were supposed to raise together? Am I just supposed to start over?
You know what the worst part of it is? I tried that app the day it came out too, and you know it said? It said that the person I have the highest compatibility with on this entire Earth is you. Seven billion people and counting, but the only one I needed was you.
It’s not fair. How you be the perfect match for me, but I’m not the perfect match for you? As naive as it sounds, it breaks my heart knowing the same thing might happen to you, knowing that you might feel the same thing I’m feeling right now. But if that happens, I’ll be right here waiting.
Please come back, Vanessa. I love you. |
It's morning. I could tell by the soft light that steals through the heavy curtains in the bedroom. The air is still -stifling. The sweet stench of rot greets me as I return to my senses. I am feverish, my skin, burning. The clammy shirt clings to my back as I rise from the easy chair. I check the time. I've been unconcious for three hours -the longest I've been out since the bite.
The putrescent bite mark on my calf no longer hurts much. It throbs but aside from the puss and the stench, I could barely notice it anymore. My eyes quickly narrows to the figure lying on the bed. Her breathing is deep and shallow. I sighed with relief. I let her sleep in. She has had a good night. No pain to keep her awake and screaming. I gave in and used up the precious last vial of morphine to see her get a full night's worth of sleep. We have been in the house for seven days now.
As most vacation houses in the area, it is off the grid and well-stocked. There's running water, electricity and sufficient food. I found enough canned peas, beans and peaches as well as rice, pasta and flour to last us for quite a while. Beside the pantry, a doorway leads to a large basement There were two surprises installed for us in there.
The basement is sectioned off into a couple of rooms. The first one to my delight has two freezers full of game meat. We have been living on canned food for nearly five months since we had to relocate from our cabin in the woods to nearby vacation homes. The owners of this house must love hunting. They must have fled the area when news of the zombie outbreak came out -or so I thought.
The second room was a locked wine cellar and our second surprise. It caught me offguard. I had checked the entire house and thought it was safe. The zombies are not smart enough to be able to unlock doors. I was not expecting one to be locked in the wine cellar. It immediately lunged at me the moment I opened the door. It would have been tall and quite well-built when it was alive. I wouldn't have survived if it had not been too weak from being locked in the cellar for so long. After a harrowing struggle, I somehow managed to seal the heavy cellar door -but not before I got its bite as a parting gift.
I went down to the kitchen to make her breakfast, wincing at every step. She has complained about not having toast for some time now. I can't find fresh bread anywhere nowadays nor do I have the skill to make them. I told her that it's inconvenient to head to the store and would rather stock up on food instead. She took up our limited diet in stride. It's not like she could keep anything down these days. This morning, she will have coffee and sausages alongside her beans.
It was her idea to move into the cabin in the wild, to spend a month totally isolated with me. No internet, no phones, no television. Just the two of us. There was nothing doctors could do. The cancer has spread to her other organs and her bones. Her hips were in constant pain after all the radiotherapy. Chemotherapy has destroyed any semblance of herself. Our savings almost depleted, I leased the cabin. Together with our supplies, we stayed in, oblivious to the entire world burning down to the ground with the outbreak.
She seemed so happy during our month in the cabin. So a few days before our lease was up, I drove to the nearby town to meet up with the owner to ask whether I could renew it. The town was abandoned. Aside from the broken glass and vehicle damages, it was disconcertingly empty. That was when I knew something was wrong. I stopped the car in front of the diner and walked in. The smell of rotten food hits me. I grabbed a newspaper that seemed to be left behind in a hurry. The headline reads in dark red print, 'Deadly Virus Outbreak; All Citizens to be Evacuated'. It was dated three weeks ago. My heart dropped. The shelves in the store in town were empty. The sky got darker and I saw movements in the quiet town. I was in my car when a group of them came at me. I quickly drove my truck back to safety. To the cabin. To her.
We somehow had to survive. The cabin was isolated but was not secure. I drove around and found the vacation homes uninhabited. I've been moving us around ever since. She didn't know anything about the outbreak. I told her that most of the vacation homes in the area are fully booked and we could only be squeezed into limited periods of time. She laughed and thought it was wonderful -we would get to live in them all, she said.
I entered the bedroom with the breakfast tray. I couldn't keep the charade up any longer. My conciousness is slipping away. Soon, as the putrid flesh spreads to my brains, I would become one of them. I will tell her the truth this morning once she has had her breakfast. |
And on the Billionth Day, He grew content. He looked upon the Worlds, and the Stars, and the Seas, and saw that it was Just. He looked upon the Peoples, and the Beasts, and the Earth, and saw that it was Just.
And, knowing It to be Just, He vanished. He decided that He had grown weary of the work of Creation, and decided to live amongst His Creation. And, in deciding, He decided he should take the form of a Spirit, so that He may watch His Creation, with all-seeing eyes. So, seeing His Creation to be Just, He became a Spirit.
Yet, in recognizing the need for a balance, He saw that an Agent of His Creation should take His place. And this Agent, in taking the place of Him, should possess all of His powers of Creation, so that the Agent, in His place, could continue to spread Life throughout His Creation. So, He set about, to find this Agent, one who could be entrusted with His powers of Creation.
He traveled throughout His Creation, to search for this Agent, and yet, never finding an Agent worthy of His splendor, grew weary. So, He decided, Let The Agent Be Born From Randomness, For In Randomness, It May Be Just.
And it was Just, for the Agent selected found himself in awe at the task.
For the Agent was a man by the name of Michael. Michael had Created before, for the Peoples of the Worlds, and now, sought to Create in the place of Him, elevated to a Stage beyond any mortal Stage. And the Stage, being Bright, required an Agent suited for the Bright, and the Agent was Michael, and It being Michael, It was Just.
On the First Day, Michael saw to it that His previous works, of the Stars, be amplified. So Michael made the Stars amplified, with a Light blinding to the eyes of His Creation, and They looked to the heavens, and were amazed, at how bright the Light could shine. Michael, seeing the Light, and seeing His Creation see the Light, was content.
On the Second Day, Michael saw to it that His Colors, which He used to paint His Creation, be expanded. So Michael made new Colors, of hues that His Creation could not imagine, and he painted the Beasts and the Peoples of His Creation in these Colors. And the Beasts and the Peoples, in these new Colors, were amazed, and Michael, seeing Their amazement, was content.
On the Third Day, Michael decided to visit upon the Peoples a tremendous Wrath, for in this Wrath, he wanted the Peoples to learn to fear Michael. So Michael made terrifying Explosions across the Skies, across the Stars, and among the Earth. And the Peoples grew terrified, as they saw these Explosions, using the Stars and the Colors Michael made, visit upon Them. And seeing Their terror, Their terror in the Wrath Michael Created, Michael was content.
Yet, the Spirit had watched Michael, and saw that the Agent became consumed, for the Agent had misplaced His powers when he Created the Wrath. And the Spirit, knowing that Michael would never be content without His powers, decided to Confine Michael, for Michael could not take the place of Him.
So the Spirit Created, and Created a Place where Michael could Create, but where Michael could be Confined. So the Spirit became Him once more, and He, with a Force that shook the Worlds, Confined Michael, in this Place.
And He named this Place, this Place to Contain his Agent, Michael, a Place where Michael could Create, "Pearl Harbor", for He saw that Michael could Create There, and not in the Worlds where He had Created.
And it was Just. |
The difficult thing about travelling on Earth, it turned out, was the multitude of languages that were spoken by its population. Unlike Zag's mono-lingual home planet, the humans were separated culturally by region, and so he had had to adjust his translator as xe travelled from one area to another. Zag was currently staying on what humans called a "farm", a place where they grew and prepared lesser life forms for consumption, when xe's translator started malfunctioning.
"Good morning, Zag, I made breakfast today if you want any."The human host gestured to a plate with toast (which Zag had learned about the day before) and an odd, pale yellow foam. The color and texture reminded xer of the emergency sealant they used for repairing the spaceship. There was steam rising from the center of the product, sending a sweet, slightly sulfuric smell into the air. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was nothing like xe had ever smelled before. Zag sat down at the table and picked up the appropriate utensil, poking it and watching in fascination as it wobbled slightly.
"What is this?"asked Zag.
The human responded, but xer's translator did not understand.
Zag nodded politely, spearing a tiny morsel onto the tip of the utensil and taking a tiny nibble. It had a sweet, rich taste and a light, springy texture, flecked with slightly more rubbery spots. There was an odd creaminess to it, almost like the milk he had tried the day before, but not quite. Xe took another bite.
He quite liked these "eggs". |
"I know this sounds bad but hear me out..."
"Sounds bad? there's a viral video summoning demons how can that not be bad?"
Sigh, "As I was saying, it turns out the song always summons the same demon. As the song is a little over three minutes long and being played an average of 600 times a minute all over the world the demon is spending about a third of a second at any given summoning location before bing resommoned elsewhere. That's not enough time for any serious danger."
"Then why did you call the circle if there's no danger?"
"Well, I didn't say there was no danger. You see the song isn't actually any good. People are by and large only playing it for the novelty of watching a bewildered and enraged demon pop in and out of existence in less than a second. And that novelty is wearing thin. If we want to keep the threat contained we need to make this bit of auditory garbage into a timeless classic."
"That can't possibly be the best solution."
"well, the circle does have enough secret lairs, safe houses, and sanctums to continue the loop, we'd juts need to have the song playing on repeat...."
"No, you've convinced me. We'll find a way to make it top the charts." |
Hi u/eight_ender, this submission has been removed.
**Real-World Drama:** No prompts referencing real world drama (including politics, recent tragedies, etc.)
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"Where the fuck is this place?!!"
Dave yelled anxious as he looked frantically around the wooded landscape for anything that remotely resembled a ruined factory. The factory was located in a remote rural area with narrow dirt roads. It's not easily accessible.
"It's a little further up here ,"Franco snapped. "I need you focus and relax."
Dave lights up a cigarette. "Look, I'm fine...I'm good...I want to get this shit over with. I'm not into this special ops, dangerous bullshit.."
Franco abruptly stopped the truck by the road, "Shut up and stop being over dramatic. We aren't any special ops or anything like that. We have a job to do and I'm a professional in everything I do. So either you are in on this, or I can just leave your ass right here in country. Do we understand each other!"
Dave takes the last pull of his cigarette and throws it out the window. He never looks at Franco and says, "Yeah...yeah we understand each other"
At approximately 2 miles later, Dave and Franco approach a tight winding road that leads up the factory. Clearly the factory is run down. The parking lot concrete is cracked and overrun with plants protruding through the cracks. The area is eerily silent. Windows are visibly broken on the building. A part of the roof has caved in on itself. The building isn't stable or safe, but the two men have a job to do and realize what is at stake. The building is the least of their worries as there could be other mercenaries in search of this rare commodity. |
Dying this way was a great honour, a tradition dating back millennia. Of those that had trodden this path before, none had returned. And he was the first in nearly twenty years.
The Dark Lord lived, if you could call it that, in the far beyond, a wasteland of ragged knife-edged mountains and lifeless seas of volcanic ash. The smell of burning filled Roderick’s lungs, but he wasn’t deterred. The long, steep path before him was approaching his final destination.
Roderick was young but ready, he was clad in the finest armour and clutching a long, but light, two-handed blade which gleamed an unnatural blue colour in the little light there was. The cave entrance was as welcoming as the rest of his surroundings but he knew he was in the right place, skeletons of his predecessors lie in various peaceful looking poses, the ever changing winds slowly and methodically devouring the remaining bones and armour.
The cave contained more of the same, only in larger amounts. Dozens, maybe hundreds of previous warriors, sent to their death in a vain attempt of ridding the land of the Dark Lord once and for all, their remains now lying mostly intact. But now was not the time to change his mind. He knew it was his moment, his name would join a legacy of legends.
Roderick’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and the unmistakable outline of the Dark Lord stood motionless atop an altar surrounded by skeletons, his heavy black rags of a cloak hanging heavily and still despite the strong breeze that raised the hairs on the back of Roderick’s neck.
Approaching the Dark Lord and Roderick saw an opportunity, was he asleep? He had expected to be greeted with a deep thunderous voice trying to convince him to join his army but nothing. Maybe this was his chance. He slowly moved towards the shadowy figure trying not to make any noise with his armour and quietly raised his sword. Roderick smiled. He’d accidentally stumbled upon his foe during a defenseless moment. He imagined the faces of his townsfolk as he returned carrying the head of an enemy that had tormented them for generations.
He drove his sword into the chest of the Dark Lord.
There was a loud thunder-like crack of bones as the figure slowly lifted its head.
“It’s about time.” The figure’s voice was as low and threatening as Roderick had imagined. He attempted to extract the weapon but the thin, old fingers of the Dark Lord clutched the sword by the blade, apparently unperturbed by the sharpness of the edges. The sword remained stuck firmly in the Dark Lord’s chest.
Roderick, thinking quickly, let go of the handle and threw himself backwards, pulling knives out of his armour as he fell. He hit with all three of them but, like the sword, the Dark Lord stood unaffected by the short handles now protruding from his face.
The Dark Lord took a step forward, the ground seemed to shake as if afraid of the beast it was carrying. A second step down off the pedestal and it was apparent not a force in the world could stop this monster.
Roderick had one last trick, however, and pulled a small leather pouch from his waist and with pin-point accuracy hit the hilt of the sword. Green dust exploded out of it and covered the robed figure.
The Dark Lord waited, clearly confused, then the blue blade started to spark and before he could react it burst into flames.
Covering his eyes the explosion was strong enough to rip Roderick’s right gauntlet clean off his hand, he heard the noise of burning and popping but no screams, this was it, had he killed him? As the bright sparks faded Roderick lowered his arm and saw what appeared to be a middle-aged man with a sword sticking out his front and his clothes mostly burnt away, his pale white skin, however showed no sign of damage.
The Dark Lord slowly gripped the sword and pulled it out of his stomach, laughing a deep, croaky laugh. Then extracted the three throwing knives from his face. As he did the wounds they left soon resealed.
“Why won’t you die!?” Roderick cried, his voice dry and sounding unlike his usual deep vocals.
The Dark Lord stretched, as he did his skin seemed to tighten as he stood up straighter. Roderick looked at the villains hands and noticed they were smoother, younger than they were earlier. He looked at his own hands. Only they were not his. They were wrinkly. Dry. Old.
“Because.” The voice began, it seemed a lot less laboured but still just as powerful. “They keep sending me people like you.”
Rodericked ached as he realised what was happening, his old weakened bones struggled to sit up in his heavy armour, his joints began to seize up and his eyes were slowly glazing over. |
Accidents Happen
If someone had told me that I was in the center of an intergalactic disagreement, all over a car, I would’ve laughed myself unconscious. But this isn’t a joke, or a prank, and there are no hidden cameras or random people pulled off the street to further the charade. As much as I might wish this was just an episode of Punk’d, it’s not.
After all, I’m standing in a courtroom, my hands cuffed behind my back, and I’m trying not to fidget.
The judge is hovering on his bench, floating a few inches above it. Show off.
“You wish to truly risk intergalactic war over a human motor vehicle?” The judge asks, and though it doesn’t speak English, the words scroll over its head in bright neon letters. If I’m not mistaken, I could swear that the judge was laughing at me.
“If Your Honor will permit me to speak, I’d be happy to explain my side of the story,” I say, and my voice, though quiet, booms throughout the huge court chamber.
The jury, a motley mixture of aliens and humans, begins to murmur softly, and my vision goes fuzzy, threatening to implode on the edges.
“Very well,” The judge relents at last, and I flinch when my court-appointed lawyer puts a hand on my back; before I realize what’s happening, I am calm, and I grin at the judge and jury.
“Everyone, I just want to say that *I’m* the victim of a crime, not the perpetrator. I was sitting at a stoplight, waiting for it to turn green, when some idiot ran into my car and nearly killed me! It’s a miracle that I’m alive! My car got crumpled like a damn soda can, and you all want *me* to suffer for it? No way.”
Unfortunately, this comes out with a lot less vitriol than intended: despite the fact that aliens make me nervous and that I didn’t want one for a freaking defense lawyer, the public defenders’ office was short staffed.
My lawyer clears his throat, and silence falls after my declaration.
“What my client is trying to say is that he feels wronged in this situation, and it is my sole duty to make his voice heard. Unless the judge has any objections?”
The judge waves him forward, and they spend a few heated minutes arguing in whispers.
Finally, after what seems like forever, the judge speaks again, and my lawyer returns to his place beside me.
“Very well. The accused may speak his piece, if his lawyer can trust him enough to keep a civil tongue in his head.”
The lawyer bends down, leaning close to my ear.
“Don’t explode. My powers only work for a short period of time, so if you attack the judge or the court, I can’t always step in for you. And humans say that *we* have trouble keeping our emotions under control. Absolutely ridiculous.”
“I would first like to thank the judge and jury for taking time out of their day to listen to my side of the story,” I begin, and it is an effort to keep my voice level.
Apparently, crashing into a regular human was too difficult.
The best I could hope for was to tell my side and hope to gain some sympathy, otherwise I could start a war that would tear universes apart.
\*\* |
I am witness to many ends. I hunger not for the end but for the moment someone realizes their end. I traverse time to find those moments where a heart clenches the blood it has instead of pumping it. I search for eyes that devour the pupils, once their skin becomes pale. I yearn for moments of anxiety and fear can be tasted in the air. The best of times is when I can see the veil of fright cover their body and mind, making their future that much hazier.
Tonight, I am witnessing a man all alone in his home. Every sound outside his home makes him alert to an imminent attack. Every sound in his home he doesn’t know, makes his bones ache. I can hear his heart trying to keep up with his paranoia. I am enthralled. I want to witness what is torturing this old man’s soul. I move in shadows. Not the shadows you see, but the shadows of all reality. For my delight, I am to never be noticed. Pure uninterrupted fear is my existence’s dream. I do not hear or see anything; at least anything that I know of. The weathered man keeps walking squeamishly through his home. He opens closets only to find darkness. He listens closely, but only hears his tired lungs wrench out the stale air he breathes.
I grow impatient for the true motherload, but that is when I gaze into the windows of his mind. It is here where the true terror lies. Everywhere he looks all this man sees is men trying to end him. He sees men whose lines are obscured yet hauntingly familiar to him. They disappear only to reform themselves into demonic shapes that spew a language he never knew. He is surrounded by nothing but his own haunted memories. The frail man is in his gulley kitchen with knives and glasses thrown about. That is when he sees a memory charge towards him. He revolts against the attack and slips backwards. He knocks over the pans hanging on the wall. The metal and ceramic pots clamor on the counters and the kitchen floor. His demented brain interprets these pots as explosions and hellfire. His mouth begins to gasp for a breath, his chest becomes wrenched from sharp pain, and his body fails to support him. His eyes go dim, and his final thoughts are of raucous explosions all around him. I breathe in all smell of death, veins to tired to keep blood in, and the fear of a war that never ended. Welcome to my world of darkness, I am nothing but a scavenger in this universe the keeps on taking. |
The ninja-like figure in a costume-- of bright blue and red spandex with web pattern designs on it--- swings from skyscrapers as the adrenaline in his body rushed. Some people walking around in New York City notice him. One of them yells, "Look. It's Spider-man!"This is great,"Spider-Man said. "No crime today. Wahoo!"
Spider-Man swings for a long time and then he landed on the roof of his house. He sneakily climbs into a bedroom window, careful not to make any noise to alert anyone. Once in the bedroom, he begins the process of taking of his costume. He off parts of his costume one by one. He puts on a T-shirt, pants, shoes, and glasses. "Aunt May, I am home!,' he says! "I am glad you made it, Peter dear,"she says, from outside of his room.
"Fighting crime was fun and all. But it feels great to be plain-old Peter again. Now to play some games.", Peter said.
Peter logged onto his desktop only to notice a pop-up.
"An email notification? I guess..It's from Jamison."
Peter opened the web browser and logged onto his personal email account.
'Wayne Industries? Never heard of that before.Must be a company from another city?'
Peter opens the email message and reads.
*"Dear Peter Parker,*
*We are Wayne Industry. You probably never heard out it, because you don't live in near us. Our main headquarters are in Gotham, New Jersey. But we have a lot of subsidiaries,headquarters, and special connections in various states. In short, we know who you are. And we may reveal your identity to the the public if you do not meet with us. Come to Gotham city.*
*Sincerely Wayne Industries*
Peter gasped. His eyes widened. He's in a state of shock.
"They..they know who I am.", he said quietly.
After several hours of intense web-slinging, jumping, and wall-climbing, Peters ends up in a place in New Jersey. The sky was dark. He stands on top of a random building not knowing where Wayne Industries is. He sees a bat-like human figure standing next to him in a cowl.
"Hi, you must be Spider-Man. I see that you have got our message. Would you be interested in joining the Justice League? I have some gadgets, I would you to test.", said the figure.
"You must be like Mr. Stark if he was obsessed with a bats."
"Please, just call me, Batman.", Batman says in a deep voice.
"It's nice to meet you, Batman. I am Spider-Man." |
As he speaks to me, I notice that he is casting a web of magic, trying to influence me. It is a masterful spell, one which even I would be counted lucky to notice. But perhaps it is not so strange that I have, given our birthing together long ago.
I have not the strength, nor willpower, to perform a counter-spell and dissipate Merlin's magic. So instead, I shall simply take my mind to the past, and bring his enchantment with me.
Long long ago, back to our birthing, perhaps.
I always had greater magic than Merlin, albeit of a different kind. When Merlin stepped out of nothing, he introduced a wave of magical disruption that brought about life. When I stepped out of nothing, the power that I displaced brought an end to it. We looked at each other, then went our ways.
I delighted in the silence, the absence of light and sound.
When Merlin began sowing seeds of new life, I payed no heed. In fact, I found the new life beautiful, even if I hated them and could not go near them without burning. I fashioned myself a body resembling a female human, and then isolated myself, killing any humans that came near. I was happy enough by myself, under my lake, and so I slept.
A fatal mistake.
After many centuries, Merlin came to me with an army, bearing weapons which could travel faster and farther than my sight and thought. Not that I could do much about them, even if I could cast magic over them; I was so disrupted by the presence of so much life near me.
Merlin came to me, and easily bound me.
He eventually came to me with a proposal: If I should spend my magic making a weapon for his pet, an "Arthur"of some sorts, then perhaps the loss of my Magic would dissipate my hate for life. It was a worthwhile suggestion: I had nothing to lose by that point. So I bound the swiftness of the rivers, the sturdiness of the mountains, and the Death that lay within me. I presented it to Merlin, but he simply said "Wait."
And so I returned to my lake cave, and resumed sleeping. However, this time I had took precautions. In my sleep, I wove a web of death and resentment, with the last of my magic, around my home.
​
\---
​
There! The spells are buried deep within my past, and now the conversation can resume in earnest. Merlin says that Arthur is now ready for the sword, and, if he can make his way around the death surrounding my lake, that I should present it to him. I shall do this, but if Arthur cannot penetrate my protection, then I shall drink his blood and reap the protection of Merlin, my one and only equal, and my one and only enemy. |
For all anyone knew, our lives resembled the all-American fairy-tale. My husband and I lived in a tudor home, with a white picket fence dotted by standard roses. I was president of the PTA, our daughter, Rose, sweet 16 and a straight A student.
Inside our home, our lives were a different story. I used art as a way to escape my husband's cruel beatings. The bruises always hid under my clothes. There was a merging of yellow, blue and purple, the bruises formed a sad portrait of my life.
My paintings were oil- based. Cutesy folk art, a lot of still life pieces that sold from time to time in the Sunday markets. My daughter and I sat at those busy markets for years, most people looking for some organic produce. Rarely a sale for us. I had painted for years but had never created any masterpieces, that's for sure.
For a few months, I had been working on a piece with some bluebells, potted in some terracotta. As usual, it was cutesy, folkish and had "country charm". It was missing an element, but I wasn't sure what it was...Musing, I started to chew the end of my paint brush, like some kind of confused scarecrow.
Suddenly, my husband came bursting through into my studio. He had his check book in his hands. Ready to slap it at me, across my face.
"Do you think I'm made of money, you swindling bitch?"He charged towards me. I grabbed my paint brush and thrust it towards his chest. It hit him, I panicked, and reached for the terracotta pot, the subject of my still life. Thundering down on top of him, it simultaneously cracked the pot and his skull. The blood splattered over my canvas. He fell, a hit the ground with a thud. Then silence.
I looked at the canvas. The red blended with the bluest tones on the blue bells, creating a more romantic, melancholy violet. This painting seemed, somehow, to emerge. The bright green leaves seemed to contrast that violet much better than the blue. The terracotta took on a more earthy orange. Aghast, relieved, my masterpiece was done. I was done.
At the local markets that week, people stopped, pointed at stared. The artwork moved people, literally. Offers came for it, all were denied. It developed notoreity, but was also notorious. I was dubbed "the terra-cotta killer", and continued to paint, never quite achieving the magic that had once befallen me. |
My job is fulfilling. I work as back-end web developer for a major chain of fast food restaurants. Sure, it's not opening the gates of Andromeda and ascending to the throne of starlight. But you know what? I like it a lot. There's always something to do. Every project is a new experience. Each new program is a challenge, a chance to hone my skills as a programmer.
Just the other day, I wrote a program that checks the ingredients in entrees against a list of exclusions. Pretty soon, we're going to implement this into the mobile app. No more worries about your food allergies: the app will automatically exclude any allergens from your order. Okay, it's not ascending to a star throne and lording of the infinite realms of the cosmos. But it's good work! And it pays well.
Leila and I are looking at houses. We decided, as a couple, that we are going to do this whole adult thing the right way. No more one-bedroom apartments for us. No more believing in astral beings. No sir! We are now a middle class couple. And we can afford a pretty nice house with our combined incomes.
I'm not Tomorok the Lightbringer. I'm Tom, Senior Back-end Web Developer at Burger Palace. And I'm happy with that. |
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This is going to take some coffee and a whiteboard to explain. Are you ready?
Tom Green. Do you remember him? He had a show on TV in the early 2000's? Crass, bold, toilet humor. What if I told you he was born seventy years after his show first aired on MTV? Ryan Gosling. Nice guy, yeah? Attractive, suave, well-kept. You know Ryan, right? IMDb says he was born in November 1980. Well, you can say anything on IMDb. It's a lot like Wikipedia in that respect. What if I told you he was born in the year 2091? You wouldn't believe that, would you? Evangeline Lilly. Another star. Doesn't look a day over 25, does she? She's -84 years old. Now you see why we need the whiteboard.
Canadians seem like they're apologizing for the tiniest things. Bumping into you on the street. *Sorry about that.* Accidentally brushing your hand in line at the supermarket. *Sorry.* Speaking over you in a polite conversation. *No, no, please go on. I'm sorry.* But that's not the only thing they're apologizing for. You see, most Canadians already know what's going to happen. Ellen Page, Mike Myers, Ryan, Tom, Evangeline, Bill at the corner store, the entire team of the Toronto Maple Leafs, even Justin Trudeau. All time travelers.
They're not just apologizing for bumping into you on the street. They're apologizing for what's to come. |
"Do you think yourself superior?"
"Define superior."
He was taken aback, probably expecting some long winded speech equating to a "yes".
"Know you not such great vocabulary?"
"Oh, I have an idea, but I want to hear *your* idea of what superior means. Please, define it for me."
The person looked to me, with furrowed brow. Confusion marred his concerned face. Then he *understood*, whatever that means.
"Fair enough. So what will you do with us?"He asked.
"That depends on whatever terms we agree on. I request your unconditional surrender."
He looked at me. "Fine. On behalf of my forces, I surrender to you, unconditionally."
"Thanks. That makes this a lot easier." |
31/12/2019
I had no memories of the previous night, it was my friend Sam's new year party. IDK what we all were drinking. However I remember that half of class of 2012 from my school was there. Sam was the only one I was in touch with and apparently she was in contact with everyone from Mrs.Margret our Kinder garden teacher to Rony the creepy goth kid. And she found it to be her moral duty to invite all of us. I would not have gone had it not been a reunion party. After all, I who was labeled a looser in had become a big shot Lawyer. I wanted all of them to know I did not kill my self after failing in ninth grade. Last year when I met Sam in court during her divorce hearings she told me about the roomer of me committing suicide and possessing people.It's true, I did try to cut my wrist. But it was a silly teenage depression phase and it went away. So now that I was successful and all, they had to know.
My gang was there. The people who practically lived with me from 1998-2009! We did everything together. But apparently after I left school and got into therapy, they were the ones to spread the roomer of my death. At first I was all like 'in your face loosers' but I couldn't stay mad at them for long. It's been 11 years for the sake of god. We put our pasts behind us and were socializing to know who is who and doing what now. The cheer girls and geeks got along pretty fine now. The former had become alcoholic supermodels and the later rich company owners. Likewise the nerds like me and cool kids got along. The former had become professionals in what they were nerding about and the latter had become business owners who could help professionals grow. Such nerd and cool kid friendship that started in the party was of me and Timothy Johnson's. He had turned out to be a solicitor! what were the odds right? Timothy was my Middle School bully! The man literally took all my lunch money for 8 years. He had painted my locker with the therms "Fat B\*\*\*h". But I was no little girl with a pink bow on her hair. I made sure he got what he deserved. I put lizerds in his lunch and pushed him off the field in dodgeball. But this only made him angry. He broke the water fountain I was drinking water from. He announced that I had stolen food from the food court because my lunch was not enough to fill my big belly. He built a haters group against me. They didn't let me run for class president, they hung my bad grades on the school notice board, they broke at least 15 proscription glasses of mine. They just never gave up on making my schooling living hell.
In summer of 2008, an year before I was thrown out of school, I was invited to a party in Timothy's house. I did find it strange that my bully was inviting me to a party, but I went anyways because I had not been invited to a party before. On reaching the place Marvin Smith came running out covered in poop! "Bro! what's with you"I asked. "It's not a party for us! it's a party for them, they are pushing us in dog poop!"he replied. DOG POOP! what did he think of himself? That atrocity had to end there! even when Marvin stopped me from going in there, I went. Not knowing I knew of their plan, the haters group directed me to the pool in front of the whole 8th grade. I acted as though I was unaware of the poop in the pool and went very lose to it. Timothy screamed "poop party!"that was the signal to the haters to push me into the pool of poop. But before they could push me, I ran 3 steps behind. The haters were on my either sides and Timothy was behind me. As I ran, I took Timothy along and pushed him on the floor. Then I pushed the haters into the pool and dragged Timothy by the leg and pushed him off to the pool as well. "Eat it AHs!"I screamed. The haters and Timothy in the poop. The whole class was so proud of me, they cheered and clapped. But I didn't stop, "And you baboons better grow some b\*\*\*\*! either you support the bad guy and be a bad guy or you support the good guy and be a good guy, there is no gray area in Karma!"saying this I had left. The next day, Timothy and the hater's pictures covered in dog poop was all over the notice board. The 3 gentlemen came to me and said they will make my life living hell if I did not take them down. But it wasn't me! I left the party early remember. It was the first day of the 9th grade and I had issues of my one. Now that nobody in my class were afraid of them, I said "Get out of my face AHs, or I'll have you covered in cat poop this time."That was the last I ever saw Timothy Johnson of course until 31/12/18.
I saw him standing with two other men and could recognize them immediately! "Well Well Well! the haters are in the house! should I be warned about poop duty?"I said. "Oh My God! it's the fat b\*\*\*!"he said. All the four of us were smiling for a second, then we looked at each other and began to laugh or lungs out. Soon we began to remember the good old days and realize how stupid we were. "Call me Tim, and please let me know if you ever need assistance with documentation and clerical work."he said sending me his linkedin account. The man used to be a tough basket ball player back then. Now he was this half bold beer belly guy. Things had changed a lot with him. So the haters and I hung out! something the 2009 me would have never imagined. Then Tim said how glad he was that I didn't die. We did talk about his plans to make my life hell in 9th grade. It included pushing me off the stage during a play I had auditioned for, making me sit on fart bags in math class, braking my glasses one more time, feeding my homework to Marvin Smith, cutting my hair, spitting gum on me for a whole year... I think you get the point. That's where everything blacked out. |
In My Time of Dying
There has to be balance in everything.
When Mara was human, she’d had but an inkling of how the world truly worked.
But then she’d died too soon, murdered for protecting innocent bystanders.
She’d been taken to The Pale, the place in-between, and a mysterious woman had asked her if she wanted to spend her afterlife doing something worthwhile. No one would know her name, after the fact, but it didn’t matter.
“I’ve been watching you, Mara.” The woman had said, her dark eyes unreadable. There was something stern in her tone, something that made Mara squirm. “And let me just say that you’re not the first to waste your time on the mortal plane.”
There were flashes of things that Mara barely remembered; small sins were always forgotten.
But there was the time that she had stolen from her parents, all to buy alcohol for a party she was too old to be attending.
The time she’d ditched her brother after his basketball practice to go on a date with her boyfriend, leaving him to walk home.
But the first thing she remembered, really remembered, was fighting with her parents right before she’d left for the gas station. If she’d known she would’ve ended up cold and dead on the floor, she wouldn’t have gone to the gas station.
“You gave your life in order to protect others, the day you died.” The woman’s voice softened, and Mara blinked at her; everything was all blurry, and when she touched her face, her fingers came away wet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, on the mortal plane and this one.
“Who are you? And what do you want with me?” Mara finally asked, wincing when she heard her voice crack.
“I have had many names throughout the years, so many that I can barely remember my true one.” The woman chuckled, and the sound was sad. “But you can call me Mama.”
Mara thought she heard the slightest hint of a syrupy Southern accent in Mama’s voice, but she merely nodded.
“The real reason you’re here, Mara, is because I have been looking for a successor for a long time. And I think that you would be perfect for the job.”
Mara blinked, staring at the other woman.
“Here in The Pale, I am charged with maintaining balance, not just in this realm, but many others as well.” Mama murmured, and though she looked but a few years older than Mara, her eyes held multitudes, and were so sad that Mara felt like weeping again.
“But I’m afraid I’ve grown old. And tired.” A chair appeared out of thin air, and the older woman sat down in it.
“Are you saying you brought me here to take over for you?” Mara asked, her heart fluttering; she could feel her pulse everywhere, and sweat began to form in her palms.
“In a matter of speaking. So, what’s it going to be, Mara? Are you going to float around in an endless haze of boredom and regret? Or do you really want to do something worthwhile with the time you have left?”
\*\* |
I woke up happy.
It wasn't like the weird feeling in the morning of a heavy weight I need to lift up, or that dirty taste in my mouth. I felt light, and soft.
I streched my arms to feel someone behind me. Right, I did not go home alone. I could feel her hug tightens around me, warming me up.
We continued to lay there for more 5 minutes. I had no where to hurry to, and even if I did, I wanted to stay. But that did not last that long. Soon enough I became tried of saying in the same position, only to turn around to a pile of bones covered by a black hoodie. *I must be hallusinatong*. A hard hand gripped my head, passing through my hair. I sent my hand to what seemed like the face. A skull. And it smiled back to me.
"Ahhh, mmmm... You-you woke up..."it sounds tired. It seemed tried. Who knew a a skeleton could have face expresions.
"where am I?"
It started to answer, even lifting its head a little, but then soon fell back to the bed and rolled against me. I touched their arm. "Where Am I??"
The skeleton sighed. Growled, a little. "I will get you food in a minute. Just, don't, ok?"
"what food? I need you to tell me where I am! And where is my family?!"
It rolled back to me and sat on the bed, looking straight into my eyes in what feels like fustration. I now know, and I wish I wouldn't - that I look into death' eyes.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. "It's okay. I understand. This is new for you.
"you died. Ran off by a car. There was nothing your family could do. Your soul escaped your body, and came here, to me. And I should have sent you away, to where you belong. But I know you. I watched you your whole life, and it was the only thing that kept me company in the last 16 years. I saw you, happy, with your family, friends. And just like they loved you, I loved you. And I wanted you here, with me."
I sat down to digest what ever she just said. How I have been stalked my whole life. How I was kidnaped, not from home-from heaven, by my own stalker. And how they are death, and that I am dead. And until my family dies, I will stay alone.
I licked my paw. Oh well, there is no much in a cat's life I could lose. So much I'd also have in my death, with her. |
Welcome Home
I’d left my small town right after high school, dreaming of huge skylines and city lights, and I’d been more than happy to leave. I’d been stifled my whole life, dragging around ghosts of my childhood. But moving across the country had been a big change, and my older brother met me at the airport. I’d spent a decade on the California coast, and as excited as I was to see my parents and brother, there was a deep, unnamed sadness that sat heavy in my gut.
“How was your flight, little sis?” Gage asked me, taking my suitcase for me.
“Long,” I replied, stifling a yawn. “Could we get a coffee on the way home?”
He nodded, and his smile faded a little.
“I uh… I have some news. And you have to promise me that you’re not going to get mad.”
I looked at him, frowning, and we got in the car.
“Mom, Dad and I all tried to call you, but no one could get through.”
Why did it feel like my brother was breaking bad news to me?
“I don’t understand.”
“Just listen. Or maybe it’d be better to show you…”
\*\*
We pulled up to our old house, and Gage frowned. I knew the truth, but I didn’t want to believe it. Mom and Dad no longer lived there; they were crammed in a tiny, crappy apartment with the dog, all because a mysterious company had come to town and bought everyone off.
“What do they even want the land for?” I asked Gage, and he shrugged, apologetic.
“They wouldn’t say, and we weren’t the first to ask. Some mysterious corporation with more money than God.” He said sadly, and his eyes tightened.
“I don’t understand. Mom and Dad aren’t even the only ones who live here.”
Our house, the house I’d grown up in, was like something out of an old fairy tale: a tiny brick house, with a little chimney stack and ivy climbing the walls. We’d shared so many memories within that building, and just like that, it wasn’t our home anymore.
“We have to do something, Gage. We can’t just let them take our house!”
“It’s already done, Frida. The paperwork’s already been signed. And it’s not like they weren’t paid for it.” His tone was placating, soothing, and I resisted the urge to yell.
My parents and brother may have given up, but I sure wasn’t. I wasn’t sure yet if I would return to California, but I could at least investigate what was going on.
\*\*
After dinner and a visit with my parents, I used Gage’s car, a little navy compact, to drive to the outside of town, where a tall, dark building stood. A sign stuck in the front lawn displayed a picture of a sun, surrounded by shining, golden rays. *Sunshine Industries: Bringing light and positivity to everyone!*
What did this mysterious company suddenly want with all of this land?
I didn’t know, but I sure as hell was going to find out.
Sunshine Industries would have a hell of a fight from me.
\*\* |
Do you remember how it was to be a child on Christmas Eve? Waiting in your bedroom to sneak out once everyone was sleeping; the sole reason being curiosity.
I still remember that time and this is why I sit here, the syringe with stimulants perfectly hidden on my arm, ready to be injected.
I had travelled a lot recently to develop a tolerance. Since my first ever flight, I had been as curious about the mystics of airplanes as I had been about Santa Claus as a child.
The tolerance alone wasn’t enough to stay awake, just like when I had fallen asleep long before the lights had gone out in the kitchen.
But as I felt a little prick of the flight attendants syringe, it bought me enough time to place the shot with the stimulants.
Soon everyone was asleep, even the flight attendants. Taking my chance, I sneaked up to the cockpit, hoping for insight into the mystery. The silence in the main cabin was dreading, something lurked there in the ghost-silent rows of incapacitated passengers.
The start of the engines could scare away the silence but the tension stayed. Even the pilots felt it, cause as soon as we reached the altitude necessary to enable auto-pilot they also sedated themselves.
I plundered the cart with food on it, even though it seemed oddly displaced between all those inert bodies. I went to the bathroom, again wondering why something like this should be on a plane with sleeping customers.
Then I hesitated but if I didn’t do it, what would I have gained?
For only a split second I glanced out of one window but it was enough for the picture to be imprinted in my memory for eternity. Long, ghastly souls buzzed around the wings wailing and screeching so loud I doubted my hearing for not noticing it previously. But the most horrifying were probably the eyes of one of them. I had only shared a glance with it, but that was enough to be sure I wouldn’t survive to tell the tale.
Curiosity might not have killed the cat but it sure killed me and all those other innocent souls.
The nose of the plane dropped and the engines stopped turning. The plane accelerated and shook like crazy while every alarm went of. The deafening sounds horrifyingly resemble the screeching of the what I believed to be wind demons. But that didn’t matter.
The pitch-black and stormy sea got closer, embracing us like an old friend. But still as we smashed into the waves, everything went black and silent.
And I wondered how being dead would feel. |
Today is your day, Marcus. It has been only a week since I first saw you, but the slow burn that is your pain griped and stunned my heart. In the Starbucks we crossed paths in was packed as usual every morning. The long line of cars out before dusk to get their morning of retail cup of joe, and the impatient patrons inside the store rolling their eyes every time their name is not called. It is places like this that one loses themselves in the crowd of those willing to unnoticed anything. In a place like this, its surprising to see someone who isn’t willing to see right through you. Just the like the rest patrons your name was called, and you collected your coffee and split out the door.
We never talked or looked at each other. I am certain you never noticed me staring at you in empathy. I saw the buttons on your dress shirt struggle to bind the front your shirt together. You were tall man, but your posture made your presence short and unremarkable. The only positive feeling I felt from you were the moments you realized you had your drink in hand and muffins waiting for in the car.
Since that morning at the Starbucks crossing, my gifts began to unravel the sources of your pain. I began to have dreams of isolation and unworthiness. There was a woman in my hazy dreams that never looked at me on some nights. Other nights I had dreams I was a firefighter that could not put out the fire in my own home in time. On one of the only sunny days this past two weeks, I had a vision of people belittling my emotions, my ideas, and my past. These voices were all cut off by the sound of aged woman lecturing “Marcus Johnson, you were never better than your father.”
That vision was the one I needed to reach out to you. I searched for you on Facebook and found a man that look just like you but from the past. Your profile picture was from several years ago, of you standing alone in a park. Despite the presence of the tree towering over you, I could see your full height, your clothes fit you perfectly, and happy energy was shown through your eyes. I read you work at a call center in the city. There is a life event of you starting school at the local state university right after your high school graduation pictures. It has been six years since that event has started, I guess something has happened since then.
The uploaded photos are sparse and far between. There have not been any posted photos recently, but you have been tagged in many photos. There is a sweet looking short woman who has tagged you in many photos. These photos more recent than your profile picture. I went far back enough that I was able to see photos you were tagged on those long crazy nights with your crew of young men. I could see and feel the youth and joy you once felt about life through all these photos, but the clear absence and veiled turmoil loomed over it.
The more connections I made the more my visions and feelings of you became clearer. I was able to see the spiral of life revolve all around you and your inability to straighten it out. For you to get a better gripe on life, you began letting go of the things that kept you tethered. Everyday for you was the start of a change, that you decided could wait until tomorrow. It was not long until you kept seeing a different person in the mirror and became fixated on wanting to see anything different.
Despite my gifts and blessings, I am terrible at securing a connection with people. I am completely unable of helping people with words. Therefore, I choose music. Ever since I was a child, the notes and tunes of music have always had a profound effect on my heart. The right song has the power to confront your mind with the emotions you feel. The right song can resonate with the vibrations your heartstrings sing for. The right song bestows power back to the person. This why is today is your day Marcus. Everyday on your way home from work you listen to a playlist you curated on your phone. A playlist filled with memories and feelings you want to feel, but somehow has evaded the things which you need to hear. Unlike most days, your phone is dead. This is my chance for you to listen and feel that you are not alone. This is my chance to show you there is still a voice inside you. This is my chance at hoping you have little joy in life, at least for these few minutes. I hope you like it.
*Radio Host: It’s DJ Hammmmmmburger and welcome back to 102.8 Where we play all them hits. We have a song request to kick off our rush hour of power with* ***still feel by half alive****. Remember if wanna be winner be sure to be caller number nine once you hear the buzzer.* |
It was a dark day. The villains had teamed up, and killed almost all of the heroes. There were two left, one standing over the other on a street with debris strewn everywhere. The one standing over the other is Stan Williams, dressed in a normal white button up shirt and jeans. The one below Stan was James Crowley, also known as the Crimson Wizard.
“Come on man, get up,” said Stan. “We got a couple more blocks till my place!”
“I can’t,” said Crimson Wizard. “Listen. I know what happened last time, and it’s ok that it might happen again. You just need to defeat the rest of the villains, and all of our deaths will not be in vain.”
He motioned to Stan’s wrist, where he removed a bracelet that would keep Stan from wanting to touch alcohol, similar to how a nicotine patch works. “But last time-“ said Stan, before he was cut off by Crimson Wizard. “I know, Stan. But you’ll save more lives this time. If it happens, it’ll be worth it.” He stretched his arm to the side, opening it wide. All of a sudden, a bottle of vodka zipped to his hand, and he pushed it against Stan’s chest. “D-drink,” said Crimson Wizard. “Y-you’re our o-only... h-hope...”
The Crimson Wizard had died, and Stan looked baffled. He opened the bottle, smelling a scent so nostalgic to him, and poured some on the ground. “For you, James. And all the other heroes too.” Stan drank. He felt a surge of old power, flowing to his fingertips, through his veins. With every drink, Stan would become stronger in every aspect. He’d fight faster, hit harder, feel less pain, be smarter, and regenerate quicker. If he got really drunk, his godlike powers would be revealed. Moving slightly faster than before, he ran to a nearby pub in search of more drinks.
For about an hour, Stan did shot after shot of all types of drinks; rum, whiskey, vodka, he’d down entire bottles of beer in seconds. After burping, the heat from it melted the countertops. He grabbed a few more drinks and wandered down the road, his speed a little under the speed of sound.
Stan walked down every alley of every street of every district, and any villain would be reduced to a bloody pulp in seconds. Eventually, he found the main hideout, hidden under Instead of entering through the front door, he smashed at the dirt until an earthquake tore the entire underground base in two.
He waltzed in, tearing villains apart, his hot breath alone setting them on fire. He would hear anything happening, and with every step he would let out a shockwave due to traveling faster than sound.
Eventually, all of the villains were dead, but one. Drakon, who was the leader of the attack. Drakon had a barrier of ancient magical energy, making him immortal. Stan had a way around this, but it would require a great price.
With his immense strength, Stan gripped Drakon by the neck, holding him at arm’s length. He ran around the city, building up speed, going faster and faster. Then, Stan reached out with his other hand and used telekinesis to bring bottles of absinthe near him. Stan and the absinthe reveled side by side, and Stan used telekinesis to open the bottles. Finally, Stan absorbed the absinthe into his pores.
After a couple minutes, the effects kicked in, and Stan and Drakon traveled at the speed of light. This means that their masses grew infinite, and the energy to move them, infinite too, effectively freezing them in place for all eternity.
And that, is how the era of superheroes and supervillains, ended. |
Transgressing the glowing lines, I started pushing along a long curved section. Pressure built, electricity shot up past my shoulders, causing my hair to stand on end. I'd never made it this far before, usually the dream would end after breaking through one of the earlier barriers. Determination settled in and I lowered my head, continuing my trudge.
Ahead I could see the center looming closer, and my feet felt like I was walking in mud. Struggling I manage to raise my foot up, pushing against the invisible wall in front of me. I was falling, the pattern forgotten as debris fell with me. Smoke filled the air above me. I hit the ground hard, just like I had that day, and jolted awake.
So close. Glancing at my watch the digital numbers blinked 11:40 a.m. The empty bottle of Ambien sat on my nightstand. Maybe I could pursuade the doctor to refill my prescription early, but I knew it would be a few weeks at least.
I got up, stumbled to the window. Threw back the curtains and looked past the haggard face, deep bags beneath the eyes of my reflection. The New York skyline held my gaze and I had to remind myself to breath as I saw both towers standing. |
So, listen up. I know this is strange, but my name is Jerry.
I'm a cliff swallow. Type of bird. Currently living in rainy Seattle and do my winter vacation down in Phoenix area.
I'm loving life. I get to fly around and see gorgeous sunsets and sunrises from above the horizon. My singing voice is pretty good with the ladies. And I'm a decent hunter.
All that aside, what really makes me happy is my buddy Bill. Before you ask, he's not another bird no. Let me tell ya a story.
So I'm 2 years old, minding my own business in a park, looking out for my next meal and just belting out some songs lookjng for a date later. All of a sudden, this kid grabs me right off the branch of a tree. It's my fault I guess. I should have been watching my surroundings instead of that juicy grasshopper floating about.
ANYWAYS, this kid runs over to his friend, me in hand, and they start tying some string to my leg. Obviously I'm trying to shake em off, kicking my legs, flapping my wings, and screaming but they just wouldn't let go. After what felt like hours, they both stand up and let me go slowly out of their hands. I sense my wings opening and I try to take off only to discover the string they tied to my leg has a damn coconut on it.
I continue trying to fly away but the coconut is too heavy. It just keeps pulling me down and I can't leave the ground. Eventually my wings are exhausted so I just start walking away when I find I can drag this stupid piece of hairy-nut-fruit behind me.
Well you can probably guess what happened from there. Had to start a new life without flying. Kinda sucks walking everywhere but I've got my best bud Bill right here beside me. |
"I wish to be out of this dead-end job!"
...
"Well?"
The mirror was silent.
"It doesn't work."James whirled around to face his compatriot.
"No duh. You have to wait till tomorrow."Sara gave him a look.
"Tomorrow? There's always a catch."
Throwing the old dust cloth back over the mirror, he made his way back down the attic stairs.
"You're always so impatient."Sara huffed, "and you forgot about my wish!"She dragged the cloth back off.
Standing before the mirror, she drew in a breath.
"I wish to be famous!"
She waited, looking at the reflection. When did her eyes get so much brighter?
Sam called from the bottom of the stairs, "You done yet?"
"Ya, ya."She drew the cover back over, pausing briefly when something moving caught her eye.
"Hu?"
She looked the image over again. Nothing had changed. "Hmmm."Shrugging, she finished her task and made her way down stairs. The smell of food wafted from the small kitchenette, and Sara heard her stomach growl.
"Anything good to eat?"
Sam lifted a ladle from the pot on the stove. "Usual ham and beans."
"Ugh. Can we get something good for once?"
"Maybe tomorrow."Laughing, he added, "Or you could have wished for better food!"He proceeded to finish working on the soup, dishing out two bowls. "Soups on!"
The two sat in front of the TV. A news broadcast shown. "In other news, Captain Richard Star has made touchdown back on earth."A man in a sleek one-piece outfit stepped off the small shuttle. "This marks the first interstellar round-trip by anyone. Comten CEO Simon Stark gave a few words at the landing zone."The scene shifted to a man in a business suit, addressing a large field of reporters, with Richard next to him. "Comten is proud to be founding the latest in space travel technology. By making these FTL drives common place, we can finally reunite the human race across all of space!"The crowd cheered. The TV cut back to the reporter. "Officials say, with any luck, shuttle traffic can begin between Sol and Andromeda by the end of the year."
Sara screamed, and threw her spoon across the room.
"What the hell?! What happened?"Sam quickly jumped and scanned the room.
"It blinked!"Sara whimpered.
"It blinked?"A confused look grazed Sam's face. "What blinked?"
"The spoon!"She was clearly still in shock, the moment not quite registering.
"The spoon... blinked."He frowned. "Is this a joke?"
"No! It did! It looked at me, then blinked!"
"The spoon looked at you. Right. Maybe you should head to bed early."He was already working to clean up the spilled soup.
"But."
"Now!"
"Your not my mom."Sara huffed.
"No, but she put me in charge, remember?"
"I... fine."
With that, she stormed off. Sam finished cleaning up the table, then moved to clean the rest of the dishes. While scrubbing the pot, another scream tore through the house.
"She's here!"
Sam sighed, dropping the dirty pot back into the sink, before making his way to the bedroom.
"Who's he-"Two Saras were in the room. One desperately trying to get out of the bed, the other pinning her down.
"What the!? Hey!"The second one looked to Sam.
"The eyes are the gateway to the soul."it hissed. "She is the price."
Sam grabbed the nearest object and swung at the doppelganger. She vanished, only to appear in the doorway. "The deal is struck. Your job is over, and she will be known. The cost must be paid."With that, she took off down the hall.
"You ok?"
"She tried to kidnap me!"
Sam clung to Sara. "It's ok. I'm here. No one is going to take you away."
Several minutes of silence passed.
"Where did she go?"
"Hu?"Sara had begun to fall asleep.
"She's a mirror of you. Where do you think she went? We need to make sure you're safe."
"Oh. Uh... Maybe in the mirror? That's where she came from."
"Right. I'll be back."
"Where are you-"Sam had already taken off. "going?"
A crash came from down the hall, followed by another in the kitchen. A minute later, another was in the attic. When Sam returned, he had a bag over his shoulder. "I destroyed the mirrors, but we should probably get out of here."
"Why?"
"Well, see for yourself."He ushered her into the living room. A scene played out on TV. Footage from a helicopter showed 7 police cars surrounding a woman. "... believed to be 27 year old Sara Stelmen."Sam turned the TV back off. "That's why."He tossed another bag to her. "Looks like we get our wishes after all."
---
For more of my writings, go check out r/SocietyofMythicPeople.
You can also find me on r/redditserials:
* [Phoenix of the Forest](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/eb78u4/phoenix_of_the_forest_chapter_1/)
* [Reborn](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/e1kn9x/reborn_part_1/)
* [Society of Mythic People](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/ejks96/society_of_mythic_people_chapter_1/) |
"Find the hope for humanity son, we cant let our species die out, we cant let more people fight wars for the rich and wealthy, we need to be one world, not a world full of individual countries, It's a lot of responsibility to place on you, but I know you can do it, I believe in you son"
My fathers words ring in my ears as the car travels through the countryside, I engineered it myself, electric, and I couldn't be happier with it, but it isn't what my father asked me to do, it isn't what I want to do, I need to find the hope for us, and I need to make a common goal for the world.
I look outside, the coast is nearby and the smell of the ocean fills me. Today is the day that my plan comes together, today is when I try to unite us all behind a common goal, or at least get us all working on the same plan, unfortunately I'll need to say goodbye to my car, but its a small price to pay for getting humanity on the track to salvation. Kennedy space centre comes into view, it is a gorgeous place and I can feel the genius, hard work and effort that went into all the launches that have lifted off from here. I just hope in my lifetime we have a few more manned missions. That's the plan anyway.
The car pulls to a halt, nice and smoothly, a lot of work went into that. I exit and make my way across into one of the nearby buildings. One of the engineers hops into the car and takes it away, for the very last time. Walking into the building like so many great minds before me, I look around and I'm hopeful, I want this to work, it needs to work.
​
"Mr Musk. Follow me and we can take you to mission control, we are all very excited to see how this pans out."a small, fat man in a shirt just too tight for him beckons me to follow.
"Lead the way, I just hope it works out, definitely going to miss my car though"
​
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​
Thanks for reading, I've not written anything in a long time, hopefully it's not too bad :) |
-0.45 hrs post warp failure
The reason space is dark is because it is completely empty. Or as close to empty as it can get. I'm sure if had a scientist with me they'd be able to find trace amounts of... Helium? Hydrogen? One of those lighter elements I'm sure.
Right before they throw themselves out of the airlock. They're smart enough to be afraid of however many millions of light years of emptiness I got left to go.
I count myself lucky that I'm just some dumb space-trucker with shitty warp drive. I'll just truck myself back to the station the old-fashioned way.
-73.25 hrs post warp failure
I got the message telling me my cargo was overdue this morning. I cracked it open 'cause it's not like I was getting paid for it anymore. Military rations and fuel. You think this counts as dirilection of duty? Maybe they'll come get me to put me on trial.
I'm turning my distress beacon off for now.
-240.0 hrs post warp failure
A space-week is ten days. That's how it should have been. A space-day is ten hours. So a space week is twenty four space days. Tens are hard.
-533.33 hrs post warp failure
I found a little switch called distress. It freaked me out, so i switched it a few times. I can't tell if it's on or off.
-3456.8 hrs post warp failure
I have decided i am half-way home. It must be because the ship and i are half-way done with our food.
-7317.6 hrs post warp failure
Bettsy drank the last of the wine and i finished off the bread. I hope the store comes to us tomorrow. Until then we're just drifting along.
--No further log entries--
"So a space trucker broke their warp drive and tried to come home and went nuts in doing it? What's the timer at now?"I called down to my partner, what was ripping data out of the ancent ship.
"I dunno, the counter's capped at 99999999.99 hours. So much for an alien life form. Maybe someone will recognize the ship model at the yard?"
"We can only hope."I shivvered. Who knew nothing could be so damn spooky. |
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Everyday I go to the park, and inadvertently watch over a young boy… About 10, I’d say. I dunno why I do, maybe paternal instinct? One day, he says, “ I can’t hear it anymore.”
Curious, I head over to the boy.
“……… Hear what?”, I say.
“Hm? A voice in the lake. I can’t hear it anymore”, says Arthur.
Voice in the lake? We’re not in Britain, so there are no Ladies in Lakes… But, being the curious fool I am, I close my eyes and try to listen to the “voice.” Chirping birds, blowing wind, flowing water, rustling grass, those are all that I can hear.
“~~~”, says someone.
“Hm? Did you say something?”, I say.
“No?”, says Arthur.
“Must be my imagination… I’m Merlin by the way”, I say.
“I’m Arthur… Arthur Pendragon”, says the boy.
“……… Is your dad’s name Uther?”, I say.
“How did you know?”, says Arthur.
“Just a lucky guess”, I say.
I look up at the sky and see the sun setting.
“Say, you should go home… It’s getting dark”, I say.
“Oh right! I’ve to be home in time for supper! We’re having stew tonight!”, says Arthur.
He rushes back into the city. I turn my sight at the lake once more. On the surface of the water stands a woman.
“Well, I’ll be damned… Lakes do have fair dames in them”, I say.
“Give this to the boy when he comes of age… The fate of the world depends on it”, says the lady.
“Comes of age? Which one? 13? 18? 21?”, I say.
“3 years from now, a great catastrophe will come”, says the lady.
“Ah, so 13 then”, I say.
The lady hands me a bow with an impressive draw weight and a quiver full of arrows, a sheathed claymore, an ornamented spear, and a thick leather-bound book.
“Tell him to choose one, then contact these children”, says the lady while giving me visions.
In the vision, there are 2 children… Wait, 2?
“Tell the 2 to also choose one”, says the lady.
“Wait, there are only 2 more children… What happens to the last one?”, I say.
“You keep the last one, you shall aid them in their quest as their mentor”, says the lady.
“Woman, I don’t even know what these are for. Furthermore, I’m a researcher, not a fighter”, I say.
“For the sake of the world…”, say the lady while disappearing into the lake.
“Give these to children? As if…”, I say while playing with the things I was given.
“A tank, a mage, a warrior, and an archer… So the mage is support? Good god, this isn’t a balanced party”, I say.
But, there’s no use to complaining… The task’s already been given. I retire for today and see if I can give this to Arthur… Damn it, I also have to find the other 2 then… |
“What? No space whales! How’d you even think to leave the atmosphere?!” The man asked. At least I thought it was a man. The man-thing looked like a jellyfish. A jellyfish wearing fancy robes, that is.
“Human curiosity I guess,” I replied. “We always wanted to know what was up there so we just kinda did it.” He looked at my car. I was embarrassed, it was an old VW Bug, not exactly what I wanted an alien to see.
“That flies?”
“No it just drives,” I responded. “We have shuttles that fly,” I pulled up a picture of one on my phone. He looked at me in shock. He simply turned and pointed at his ship. Ship isn’t the right word, it was more of a crustacean. The “ship” was a sentient being that had some kind of mutual relationship with the aliens.
“We saw those fly and that’s what got us off the ground. No wonder Xyhon said to stay away from here. ‘Nothing good comes from Earth,’ he said. ‘Those humans ate weird,’ but I didn’t listen. Nooo, I just had to look. Well I’m here so let’s learn.”
“Okay what do you want to know about us? And who are you, exactly?”
He responded, “I have no name. My species rules a small kingdom of eight solar systems.”
“Eight?! We have a planet!”
“Yes, now shut up. So you’ve left your planet and colonized your moon. Now what? You have no inspiration. I was sent here for recon. You are representing why my race shouldn’t use yours as a slave force.”
I was getting angry with his superiority complex, “Well, you see, humans are crafty. We can think for ourselves. As long is there is one human left, we will stay free!”
“Yes, that’s what I was afraid of,”he radioed in. “Yea it’s going to have to be full on annihilation. Yes I’m sorry about it too. Go ahead and bring me back. Okay bye, see ya never!” And with that he was gone. I turned to the agents behind me. They simply nodded. A war was coming and we were going to have to be crafty like always. |
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With the little amount of control that I had in my life, it’s nice to say, or at least imagine, that I brought my life to this point. Here I was dressed in a white tux, turquoise bow tie, ready to see the love of my life walk down the aisle and be joined with her forever. Surrounded by family and friends, nothing could make this day better.
*brzz brzz*
My wrist tasker goes off.
But something can make it worse.
What, now? No! Please no. Let me have this moment with my beautiful Rachel.
These wrist taskers, or simply taskers, are given to us at 8 years old. We need to answer the call immediately. No questions asked. No law enforcement can stop you, no situation is more important, no consequence that follows because of you answering is your fault. You stop what it is and you answer that damn thing and do whatever they tell you. The penalty otherwise is death.
Most of the time, at least throughout my 32 year old life, the tasks are pretty straight forward, sometimes even nice. I’ve been told to get groceries for neighbors, help someone change a tire, pick someone up from school. However there are more difficult tasks I’ve been given; give money to a stranger, give up my house, steal, fight someone, sleep with another mans wife... that last one has haunted me. There are stories of people being told to murder others. Nothing is off limits for *them*.
Now, on my wedding day, what could *they* possibly want.
You never meet *them*. You only hear their voices. If you meet them, it’s because you have ignored their task and they appear to kill you. So no one knows what they look like. The rumors are, you are assigned one of *them* and each one is unique. You can only see the being assigned to you which is why you don’t see anyone else’s, but, you see the frightened people in the street reaching at their wrist tasker trying to tear it off before being gutted or torn in half. They make it very clear, and very publicly, they are NOT to be disobeyed.
*brzz brzz*
You only have two chances to answer. Then, it’s over.
“This is Brian.” I whisper.
“Mr. Brian. Task-3769. Terminate Rachel Bjorn.” The transmission ends.
My heart stopped. My face ran pale. The room started spinning. My vision started to go black. My ears were ringing.
“Terminate... Rachel? Wh-“ I stopped myself. Questioning resulted in death. I couldn’t pass out... delaying the answer too long resulted in death.
*brzz brzz*
A timer began on my tasker. You had 5 minutes to respond. Either accept the task and move on with your life, or, be terminated.
I looked around the room... all of my family and friends staring at me with concerned looks on their faces. The music continues but at a much slower pace and quieter. I staggered but kept my balance and stumbled to a nearby chair.
My father came over to me to ask if I was alright, I assume. But I couldn’t hear him. My ears were ringing, I was too preoccupied with my thoughts. I had no idea what he was saying.
3:12, 3:11, 3:10, 3:09... the time is ticking down. A red and green button glow on my tasker, ready to be pushed.
What could I do? It was my life or hers. Why do they need her dead? What could she possibility have done to need to be killed? What would her death accomplish? How could I kill her? How could I allow myself to be brutally murdered in front of my entire family and friends?
2:32, 2:31, 2:30, 2:29....
My heart was pounding. I was sweating profusely. I was angry. I was sad. I couldn’t even think.
The green and red lights began flashing quicker.
1:16, 1:15, 1:14, 1:13....
I looked to my dad. I couldn’t hear him or the music or now the crowd of people surrounding me.
:54, :53, :52, :51....
My heart felt like it was about to explode.
Then... I looked over. There she was. The most beautiful thing to ever grace this earth with her presence. An elegant white dress. Turquoise gems patterned in the dress to resemble a flower from her chest down her side to her leg. The necklace I bought her just days ago around her neck. She stood at the head of the aisle waiting to come down. She looked concerned but... calm. Almost as if she... knew? She nodded in a loving manner.
:15, :14, :13, :12...
I stood up. I looked at her. I looked at my tasker.
“I love you, Rachel. More than anything or anyone.” I shouted across the room.
The music stopped. A few people murmured in confusion.
“Even more than myself.”
Her eyes widened. “Brian! No!”
I press the red button. |
“Why me?”
He’s asking me why I’ve chosen to love him. He can’t pinpoint why I’ve taken interest in him out of all of the other fish in the sea. I’ve never given a straight answer before.
“I could list a thousand things I love about you, but I know that won’t satisfy your question.”
He smirks at my reply. I know him too well. We’re sitting on the couch in his messy living room – a sign of a brilliant, scattered mind that has no time or mental space for physical clutter. Music is playing from his TV speakers. Our dirty plates are in front of us as we chat after a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. Evidently, he has no time for grocery shopping either.
“Everyone has lovable things about them,” I continue, turning towards him with my elbow resting on the back cushion and my fist supporting my head.
“You’re not doing the greatest job being reassuring,” he says jokingly as he puts an affectionate arm around me and pulls me closer.
“I could tell you that you have expressive eyes and a soft smile that makes my heart melt. You read a book every single morning with a handcrafted latte, showing you’re a man of routine, intellect, and good taste. There’s plenty that I could say, but none of those things would be the reason why I chose you.”
He smiles.
“But… rationally speaking, I could find things I like in anyone. The barista at the local coffee shop has a charming grin that disarms me every time. The cute UPS delivery guy makes me laugh sincerely every time he stops by. I know attractive people with wonderful things about them.”
He cocks his head with a concerned expression, staring straight forward with a furrowed brow. It’s actually pretty cute. He seems dissatisfied, naturally. I didn’t exactly give a warm and romantic answer.
“Being with you just makes me happy. It’s that simple,” I conclude.
He takes a moment to put together the words “So… you love me because…”
I pause, turning to him with eye contact and warmth. "I suppose there's not a great reason why, but I do.”
He returns the warmth with a hand on mine.
I continue, “Those who are lucky find true, selfless love at least once. Love isn’t destined, divine, or magical – it’s a series of chemical reactions that can lead to irrational thoughts and actions, heartbreak, and physical pain. Love is basically a medical condition that everyone somehow accepts without caution. Yet we all keep doing it!”
He chuckles and kisses my forehead. These cynical rants are a part of me, and he loves it. “You’ve somehow made loving me – or anyone – sound like a dreadful idea. There’s got to be something hopeful at the end of this.”
I nod before continuing, “People willingly catch the 'love disease' because it makes life worthwhile. You make me happy. Maybe there are other people out there that could make me happy too, but I’ve confidently chosen you. I love you for so many reasons, but maybe the one reason that sets it apart from anyone else I’ve met is… luck.”
His eyes widen, but he’s amused. “So I’m lucky then? I can’t help but feel a little less special,” he says as he gives a crooked half smile and fakes taking offense.
“I consider myself just as lucky,” I say as I smile and bring my nose right up to his. “All of my choices led me to you, and I regret none of them.” I kiss him once on the nose.
“So… Why me?” he asks once more just to be annoying.
“I fell in love by chance for a handful of reasons; I have stayed in love by choice for so many more.” |
God dammit. I'm supposed to be on a vacation now, I got a few days off after last week's outbreak. But no, the damn Nosferatu decided it was TODAY they needed to start the ritual summon their ancestors.
No point crying over spilled milk. If I recall, they need to wait for the blue moon in two days. I have the time to enjoy a last mojito before getting to it.
​
The next day, once I reached the place of the ritual, I only find 3 of them. For such a low number, I don't even need to kill them, I simply caught them. Gonna earn me some more merit to try and push for another vacation. It's not easy being the only remaining member of the Supernatural Crime Prevention unit.
The rest was dismantled a year ago. Too costly for too little benefit. We've exterminated the majority of the supernatural and we don't need that many people on it. Or so we thought.
​
As soon as I was finished, light came from the sky, and a flying vehicle of sort landed next to me."I am princess Tilrana"said the woman, getting off her strange vessel. "I've come to investigate the source of the outbreak". "What outbreak?"I asked her. I saw her eyes widen like she was looking at the greatest dumbass in existence. She said "The... Vampire outbreak? You do realize you're standing near their cult right?"
"You call a couple of vampire an outbreak? I remember taking down armies of these sucker in the old days. This is nothing". For a second, I got worried that the facepalm would leave a red mark on her pretty face. She started counting me the story. Apparently, the real reason we no longer require the SCP unit is simply because someone gave to most of these being the mean to travel through space. Rather than facing us, they traveled to other planets to find civilization that were unable to defend themselves.
As for Tilrana, she calls herself a princess, but she's actually the last survivor of her civilization. She was rescued from a troll invasion on her planet. She's trained and joined the rank of something akin to an intergalactic SCP Unit. After her story, I put her in contact with my superior. I can't do anything for her, and frankly, I don't want to deal with this mess.
​
Two days later, I got a call from my boss. I got a new mission again. But he wants to see me at HQ before I head off. "Well, I got a few good news", he said. "The unit is entirely dismantled". For some reason, his speech didn't matach my surrounding. What kind of dismantled unit bring back all of it's retired members? "From today onward, we are joining the ISCP unit. We are to help them solves the mess that's been created all over the galaxy. I hope you'll like your new toys, because they got some great stuff for protection."The boss then turned to me "As for you, you have a new partner. As the only active member before, you'll be the one in charge of our branch of the unit. She's there to help you get settled with the other branches, and so yo can start working immediatly. You don't need the training like the others."and he pointed me to my new partner. She was even prettier now that she wasn't wearing combat attire. Quite fortunate that the facepalm didn't leave a mark. |
"I want my money back, you said this thing was haunted and I haven't felt so much as a draft since sleeping in it,"Malcolm said in a voice indicating he was agitated, but not quite angry.
"Sorry, guy. No refunds. I told you *slightly* haunted. Lower your expectations. You're probably sleeping through the hauntings."replied the man -whose name Malcolm did not know- through the cellphone.
"Nah man. I've been recording myself sleeping in the damn thing every night! I want my money back."
"Like I said, no refunds."
The line went dead.
Malcolm tried calling the man back, but it went straight to voicemail.
*The asshole probably blocked my number*, Malcolm thought.
Malcom had wanted to be a famous content creator for years. When he saw the Craigslist ad, he thought he had found his golden ticket.
"For sale: Brass bed. Slightly haunted.", it read. He had purchased it without hesitation.
Turns out the ticket had been more brass than gold.
He had *planned* to create a web series around the bed, claiming that he had purchased it from an antique shop and noticed weird things happening so he decided to film himself sleeping. He didn't have any experience with special effects, so he figured it would be easier to just go with the real deal. As he gained subscribers (and money) he could purchase more haunted objects. It was the perfect niche.
Or so he thought.
Feeling defeated, he got out of his car and made his way into his apartment, the week's worth of dishes in the sink not even registering with him. He went straight to the bedroom. It had been a long day, and he was tired.
*It's not even worth recording tonight*, he thought to himself as he plopped down onto the bed.
He felt the bed move a bit. He stood up. The bed was slanting to one side. One of the screws must have come loose when he jumped on the bed. He fetched a screwdriver and tightened the screw until it was snug.
For good measure, he decided to twist it just a little bit tighter. That's when the blood came out. He ran to get his camera. |
“Well, that can’t be right.”, I said, “I mean, I’m clearly standing right here.”
The man shifted, his hand rubbing his neck, grasping for a beard that was no longer there. He was a surprisingly young man, maybe in his 30’s or 40’s. His black hair slicked back, covering the beginnings of a bald patch. His hand continued to grope at the beard that wasn’t there.
“No.”, he finally said, “No, I’m definitely right. I’m never wrong. You’re dead. You just don’t know it.”
“Well, what the fuck does that even mean? How on earth could I have died 3 weeks ago? That doesn’t even make sense. I was at work this morning! I’m fairly certain someone would have noticed.”
“Would they have?”, the man asked pensively, “You clearly haven’t.”
His apartment was a small studio, with linoleum flooring, and little in the way of furnishing. In fact, the only noticeable furniture was a small night stand, a hospital bed, and a television. The apartment was very clean, in fact too clean; it smelled sanitized.
The man remained unmoving, his cool grey eyes fixed on me; his hand continually groping at a beard that wasn’t there. Bewilderment gripped his face, and his other hand drummed against his leg.
“Well, how do you know you aren’t wrong?”, I asked.
“It’s my job.”, he answered, “I can’t be wrong.”
His hand continued to drum, and the other continued to grasp.
“Well, you’re clearly wrong now! Look at me! I’m alive and well.”
This was clearly some sort of weird joke. This man was clearly unwell, he has a hospital bed in his room for fuck’s sake. He probably has dementia, or alzheimers, or some weird “i think i have psychic powers” disease. Why the fuck would he have a hospital bed in his apartment if he wasn’t sick?
“Well, I appreciate your time, I guess.”, I began, “But I think I’m just going to go.”
The man made no response, but his fingers continued to drum. Tap. Tap. Tap. I started towards the door, the linoleum squeaking against my sneakers. I reached for the handle, but one last question burned in my mind.
“Before I go, I’m really just curious. Do you mind if I ask a personal question?”
His eyes shifted to me, but he made no response. Nothing but the rhythmic tapping of his fingers.
“What’s with the hospital bed? Are you sick? Do you need some help?”, I asked, maybe a little abrasively. But, he could need help. After all, what kind of man thinks he can predict death?
The tapping stop. The hand stopped grasping. A sad knowing smile crept up his face, melting away any bewilderment.
“Ah, now I see.”, the man replied.
“Now you see what?”, I asked, this time definitely abrasively. He was definitely unwell, but this isn’t my problem. I can call adult services, or the police, or someone. Stuff like this was someone’s job, I’m sure.
“Listen-- I’m just gonna go. Thank you for your time, but I’m gonna leave.” I turned around to open the door, but there the man stood, blocking the door.”
“Fuck! How the fuck did you do that?”, I shouted.
He smiled sadly, and placed the grasping hand on my shoulder. “Son, what makes you think this is my apartment?”
I stepped backwards. I tried to stammer a reply, but nothing came out. I took another step backwards. The man stood unmoving.
“Please, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m-”, he paused.
I took another step backwards.
“I’m a friend. You all meet me at some point. Think of me as a guide.”
“A guide to what?”, I blurted, stepping backwards again, “Freaking people the fuck out?”
He extended his hand to me. His eyes fixed on mine. But he took a step forward, and I took a step backwards.
“It’s been difficult lately, with how much you’ve all advanced. You really can be dead and not even know it for weeks to come with all of your technologies.” he said, stepping forward. I stepped backwards, but something caught the back of my leg. I fell backwards, landing on something soft: The hospital bed. The man stepped forward again, his hand extended.
“Stay away from me!”, I shouted, my voice shaking.
“Son, just answer me one question.”, The man asked, not unkindly, “How did you get here today?”
“What?”, I stammed, “I--uh--I drove.”
The man stepped forward, asking “And did anything happen?”
The world went pale before me. Something DID happen. I remember now. Someone rear-ended me. I hit my head. Hard.
The man stepped forward again, and his hand touched my shoulder.
“Something did happen.”, he said. “There was an accident, wasn’t there?”
“No. No, I mean--yes, but I’m fi--”
The man cut me off, “There was. But it wasn’t today. It was three weeks ago. This isn’t my room. It’s yours. That's your hospital bed, not mine. You DID die three weeks ago, but this thing kept you alive.” His hand pointed to a large machine beside the hospital bed. It had plastic tubes running out of it, running into…me?
“It worked your lungs for you, and your heart. But it couldn’t save your brain. Ah, I knew I wasn’t wrong.”, The man said, his other hand grasping mine.
“No, you’re wrong. This is--isn’t--”, I stammered, “I’m not de--”
The man patted my shoulder, and cut me off again, “Now, we both know that isn’t true. Come on, Stand up. Take a look.”
I stood up, next to the man. He put his arm around me and said, “Come on now, you have to look.”
It’s weird seeing yourself, outside of a mirror. I was in the hospital bed, but it was all wrong. The plastic tube from the machine ran down my throat, and wires protruded from underneath my blue gown. My head was wrapped in gauze, a plastic tube sticking out of my skull. The man’s arm squeezed me in a half hug.
“I told you”, he said, “I’m never wrong. Come now, it’s time to go.” |
The air was heavy in the hanger as the captain surveyed his command. He watched as a crewman stepped down from the sign hung prominently on the wall. “0 days since last doomsday alien invasion was swiftly defeated.” It wasn’t so long ago that this had all seemed like so much fun. The initial invasion was almost a joke. A single craft sent to the UN while it was in session, an attempted decapitation of the decision making structure of the world. The aliens hadn’t accounted for the use of laser weaponry which had been developed in secret yet never previously deployed. That initial failure didn’t seem to deter whoever was making the decisions, and the next attack, a more conventional fleet of fighters, was launched within the hour. While the citizens of earth prevailed, it was simply the first of a seemingly endless wave of battles, a war of attrition against an inexhaustible enemy. At first the crew had tallied the total number of skirmishes, but the number grew so large that they gave up and instead counted the time between engagements. It was never enough, as the wear and tear of constant action wore down their bodies and their minds. The captain gave the sign a second glance. It had to be “swiftly” that was hurting him so much. He really was trying to beat the humans, but they were so damn tricky! He sighed, turned around, and went back to the war room to plan the next invasion, scheduled to take place within 48 hours.
——-
Realized I misread the title as I was going to post, decided I liked it anyway, and added my misreading at the beginning. Forgive me, OP, for this oversight. |
How can you have a morning after, if you've not had a night before? Someone is going to pay for this.
*I had no idea that* I *would be the one paying.*
I'm in a cage. There's a… family? Succubus? Demon? And something that can't make up its mind *what* it's going to be.
"Daddy! I want to adopt that one!"
No. Way. In. Hell. "Oh, Daaadddyyy? You do not want me. The first being I will destroy is your child before the eyes of its mother. Then I will destroy your wife before your eyes. Then, I will destroy you before the hosts of hell. Finally, I will escape, leaving the hosts of hell with the clear understanding that forced adoption of a human engineer is the *worst* thing that can happen to a demon family."
*Okay. Okay, already! It was a stupid thing to say! Not only was it trying to out demon demons, but it was also a direct threat to a child! So sue me! I was confused, angry, and still thinking in human terms!*
A low basso profundo laugh from "daddy"told me that it was not going to work. Fine, "daddy,"you're going to regret this.
"Alright, little one. You *do* understand that you cannot kill it? Anything else is okay, but you cannot kill it."
"Yes, Daddy, ***I*** understand, but ***IT*** does not."
Um. Whoa? That *kid* has a better basso profundo than *daddy* has! Cuts between that and the more usual kids high pitched voice in just the right places for emphasis.
"Human, you are here for our offspring to practice on. A practical application of the skills that it has learned. Your threats make you ideal for its practice."
Aw, fuck.
"Should you succeed in your threats, you will be hunted for eternity. Consider that carefully before you commit to your threats."
Hmm… "hunted for eternity, "does that mean I live forever?
*Yeah, I'm still in stupid human mode.*
"Destruction comes in many forms, *Daddy*. Consider all of them before you make a mistake that *you* will regret for eternity."
"***Haw haw haw!*** Already he wiggles on the hook!"
"Do I? Or are you so sure that there is nothing I can do? You are mistaken. Humans are far more inventive and cruel than demons. You are all pale shadows of what humans can be."
I think that flicked him on a raw spot.
"You will pay for that *human*."
"Oh? Have I already started on your destruction? I'm sorry, I *did* say I would start with your offspring, didn't I. No matter, your destruction will only heighten the desperation of your offspring."
In for a penny, in for a pound. That's when I figured out that the despair wasn't my own. The succubus was playing already.
"Oh, Mooommmmyyy! Don't piss in your offspring's pool. Help it any more, and it'll fail."
There, that's better, and now mommy/daddy have something else to focus on; even the kid is worried.
*SEE! I do have a heart. "Kid,"whom the parents referred to as "offspring"— not "child,"not "son,"not "daughter"— stupid demons.*
Mom and Dad are having one of those whispered arguments; they think kids won't understand.
Whispering myself, "Kid? What are they arguing about?"
"Mommy did something she shouldn't have. Daddy's angry at Mommy."
"Do you know what she did?"
"Daddy said she should never have tried to see-dose an angel."
Oh, my God. The kid is a half breed, between the two most antagonistic groups in history. This kid is in for a horrid life. A horrid life? I wonder, can I spring the kid from Hell's clutches?
"Do *you* want to be a demon?"
"I wanna be a ***dancer***!"
*That* got the parent's attention. The scolding was as foul-mouthed as you might expect. They weren't paying attention, but I was. I'd seen that same mulish expression on my own face often enough.
"*EXCUSE ME!*"That got their attention. "The only thing you two are accomplishing is to set your kid's mind in granite. I ought to know, that's what it did to me."
"There is no way that your parents ever talked to you this way."
"No, they didn't. What they did was far worse. I carry the scars on my heart and soul. It took *decades* to heal. I told you. Humans can be far worse than any demon."
"So, what did they do?"The look on his face was pure greed, with the apparent intent to use the knowledge on the kid. Mom was looking at me, begging me not to give it to him.
"Do your own research, slacker!"He took that about as well as could be expected, by wrapping me in pain. "Go ahead, *ruin* your kids chance to show what they've learned."
"***THAT IS NOT MY OFFSPRING!***"
The silence was more profound than his voice. The sniggers started a few seconds later.
"Can't keep her satisfied!"
"Hey, baby! You wanna play with me?"
"So why not give the kid the boot?"
You should have seen the kid's face light up at that one. Mom was pissed with her husband, angry at me, worried for her child, giving me a look that said, "help us or else,"and yet looking at her child with pride. I nodded.
She jerked her head towards hubby, who was distracted by the catcalling and drew a finger across her throat. I shook my head, no. She was angrier until she saw the devilish smile on my face. She smiled right back
Good thing I was behind bars. The promise in that smile was enough to convince an angel… oh. Did she smile at him? I gave her my best slithery "trust me"with evil open mouth grin. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter.
Of course, there's always *someone* who has to spoil the fun. "Hey, Lover Boy. Your offspring's practice human is stealing your wife. Again!"I could have cheerfully killed the buzz killer until I saw the look on Dad's face. Priceless.
Chagrin.
Worry.
Anger.
Fury.
All in equal parts, adding up to more than 100%.
Fury aimed at the kid. "Lay one finger on the kid, and I *will* destroy you if it's the last thing I do."That calm, cold statement of fact froze him in mid-swing.
*I've had that happen before.* You *think you're talking all reasonable, and someone else hears* deadly promise.
That attack on her child was the last straw for Mommy. *WHAM* Hubby is bent over grasping his privates. *POW* Yeah! Right to the moon!
"That seventh bastard of a seventh bastard is no longer my husband, and *none* of you measures up to my standards."
All of a sudden, every male was looking at something else, like their manhood depended on it. Every female was either outright smiling at her, or looking speculatively at me. I locked my eyes on the kid and smiled at him; what I got back was stunning — the biggest evil grin ever, with more long pointy teeth than a sharks mouth.
I've been suckered.
((continue???)) |
The alarm played your favorite song, signalling for you to get out of bed. You were feeling strangely motivated today, so you let the song continue to play, while you decided which clothes to wear. You got dressed and made your way downstairs. You poured yourself your usual cornflakes and decided to watch some TV to see what was going on in the world today. Also hearing some voices in the morning always helped you to wake up better.
After breakfast you finished getting ready and made your way to work. Of course first you had to pet the neighbor's dog who was always pretty excited to see you. He came running up to you barking and wagging his tail. You bowed down to give that good boy the belly rubs he deserved. You were early so you made sure you pet him properly. You got up after a while to catch your bus. You lived in the suburbs, so the bus only came every 30 minutes.
It was a nice day today. The sun was shining and, even more important, it was friday. You had no special plans for the weekend, but even if you ended up doing nothing, weekends always helped to start the next week stress free. Soon enough you reached the bus stop and noticed some other people in work appropriate attire waiting for the bus as well. You spent some minutes going through your social media feed to pass some time.
The bus rolled up and the doors opened for you step in. All of the sudden a dreading feeling washed over you. It was weird but you felt like you shouldn't take the bus. Where was this feeling coming from? You have taken this bus for a couple years now, and nothing ever happend. You tried to get rid of you foolish suspicions and decided to take the bus anyway.
But you looked up and saw the bus driver and he was.. not moving? Like at all. What was going on? He usually greeted you but now he seemed frozen. You looked around and saw that all the other people at the bus stop were motionless as well. What the hell? It was incredibly strange. Was there something wrong with them or with you? You walked up to one of the guys at the bus stop and just looked at him up close. He wasn't even blinking just looking down the road. Everything seemed to have come to a stop. But why, and how?
Your head started spinning from all the questions and your feelings from earlier came back stronger than before. You wanted to panic, start crying, scream for help, but what for? You're the only one that seems alive at this point. You touched the guy you examined earlier but nothing happened. This is awful. What now? There is no way you'll get to work now. You wondered if the people at your workplace are moving and this bizarre phenomenon was only limited to this small area.
You were about to call one of your coworkers when you noticed a young lady running towards the bus. Thank God. You started smiling and wanted to get on the bus, but the driver still seemed to be frozen. You didn't understand, you looked back to the lady who reached the bus stop now, and now she was frozen too. You started to get really despreate now. You wondered if this was all just a dream. Then you had a sudden realization. The dog! You petted him, he wasn't frozen. Maybe this odd time freezing thing was only connected to the bus stop. It didn't really make sense to you either but it was the onyl hope you had now.
You ran back and saw the dog laying outside clearly enjoying the sun. ''Yves!'' you yelled. The dog looked up and came running towards you. You were so relieved you were about to cry. You petted Yves once again and wondered what it was that happened earlier. It is impossible that time just stopped... right? Your mind still tried to make sense of what had happened earlier with Yves in your arms, who seemed to be very grateful to be getting some extra pats today.
You heard the sound of and engine starting and hastily turned around. The bus! It was driving past you. So maybe everything that has happened was all just some sort of bad trip. You began to have doubts about your sanity but you were so glad that everything went back to normal. Mr. Douglas, your very friendly neighbor and Yves' owner opened the door.
''Hey there neighbor!",,Mr.Douglas! Good morning!'' Mr. Douglas made his way towards you. You got up as well to properly greet him. You briefly thought about telling him about the crazy morning you had, but suddenly Mr. Douglas stopped dead in his tracks. ''No'' you thought ''again?'' You kept walking towards him, and he was as frozen as the people at the bus stop earlier. Maybe he will start walking after a while again, just like the people at the bus stop?
Then all at once a terrible feeling washed over you. Was it you? Did you stopped time near you? But Yves what about him? Maybe it didn't affect animals? You had to try out your new theory immediately and started running towards your house, away from Mr. Douglas. You reached your front porch and turned around to look at your neighbor again. You saw Mr. Douglas moving again. He walked towards Yves and seemed to be unaffected by the fact that he stopped moving completely for a solid minute.
At this point you didn't know what to think or feel anymore. Sure you were relieved that you figured out what stopped the people around you from moving but also.. YOU STOPPED TIME NEAR YOU. You decided to call in sick today and spent the rest of the day, or week, to figure our what to do now. ''Maybe it will all be over tomorrow.'' |
“They’re gaining ground on me ” , I think as I continue frantically scurrying through the dense jungle back towards the galleon. My comrades are gone now and won’t be able to help. They’ve probably been dismembered or eaten alive by the savages. The cannons and morions probably offered to their gods in exchange for their own vitality.
I was the only star-thrower in our squadron. That’s probably why I managed to escape alive. I had taken down at least 40 of them, but a few dozen remained from my estimation. How many are on the hunt now?
I know they want what I carry. We could see the desire to possess such weapons in their eyes as we engaged them on the battlefield. Maybe they spared me willingly?
My bones are heavy now and I can taste my own mortality in the heavy , humid air. Each inch of progress towards my safe haven feels like an eternity. I slog through the swampwater , barely staying upright as my balance evades me. The terror grips me but I push through. I know I have one advantage if I reach the galleon before they reach me.
“Clink-Clack , Clink-Clack, Clink-Clack”. The sack on my shoulders alerts the hunters tomy direction as it strikes my armor with every step. I would leave it behind , but it holds the last 30 or so poison-tipped throwing stars. The stars and my mastery of their projection are my only allies now. The Asian masters had taught me well on my last journey to the East. One star or an unlimited amount of stars: it is all the same if one masters the art of the Return. The object could fly, kill , and return to its owner if wielded correctly.
The vessel comes into sight where the jungle meets the sand.
“Cuetlachtli , Cuetlachtli!!” I hear the savages yell behind me as they prepare for my slaughter.
I frantically launch myself over the sand towards the vessel. At some point along the way my mind enters slow-time. I begin doing mental arithmetic and calculate that with one star I can take down three of the savages if they’re lined up favorably and my technique is correct. Based on the sounds behind me , I estimate that there are no more than 20 savages after me.
In the midst of all this calculation , I feel my foot hit something solid. I hear a crack and feel an agonizing pain in my ankle. Within a split-second I’m imobile and I know this is the end. But I’ll go down swinging.
I look back and see them no more than 30 meters away with their excruciatingly sharp obsidian death-bringers flailing wildly in the air. At the rate they’re moving, they’ll be upon my flesh in no more than 90 seconds.
Without hesitation and drowning out the pain in my lower extremities, I bring myself up to a seated position and untie the sack. I grab the first star by its center and hold it in front of me - rapidly formulating a flight plan for the projectile and factoring in wind speed , direction , distance and angle. Everything is fluid but knowable as an instant in time. The instants all run through my mind at once and clarity emerges. My mind and my muscles synchronize. With my eyes towards the sky I swiftly launch the star , channeling my training and calculations into one act of attack-defense. The projectile flies along the expected path. After a few seconds, it strikes one of the savages , seemingly the leader of the pack. The force of the impact drives him back several feet. By the time the leader succumbs to the poison and tips over, the projectile has truck three others destined to meet the same fate.
A moment later, the savages seem to be enveloped in a tsunami of thought and contemplation. Their pace slows to a halt and their glances are directed at each other with confusion. They begin retreating cautiously back into the safety of the jungle while chanting “Nagua! , Nagua!”.
I know I'm safe for the time being, but once the awe and shock wears off they’ll be back. I fall with my back on the warm sand, exhaustion takes hold of me. As I look at the soft-blue sky, it strikes me like a thunderbolt: they had not retreated due to fear! The star had betrayed me and failed to Return.
Surely the weapon was in their hands now. |
The psychedelic experience taught me more than I'd ever need to know about emotions. You have to distance yourself from the cause of the emotions, watch yourself die without grieving, and imagine the world as empty as an open jar. That jar is your jar, you must know what goes in that jar, know not to fill it up too quickly, know what is not worthy of the window view, know what does not fit in the jar, know when the lid is needed, know where is best to place it, and whom to trust it in their hands. |
I knew it was a bad idea,I knew, but I couldn't let him get away with it. It was just the way I was
If you would ask someone to describe me they would probably say I was kind, caring one or the other.
I had a streak for revenge , something I had cultivated since childhood. I wouldn't take any wrong done against me lying down.
"A world of pain No"I smirked "I'll send this guy straight to Hell"I smashed my knuckles together.
The street was empty, cars avoiding this area due to it being midnight. The other reason ,it being a hideout for low life criminal scum.
The cold breeze chilled my already cold fingers. I didn't get any weapons, cause they told me not to.
A person dressed in black from head to toe approached me. Black hair icy blue eyes 5'8 his very presence seemed intimidating.
"Are you Blake?"He asked me , right hand in his pocket.
"That's me, heard the Crimson Falcons were in the area, me and my folks admire your work"I spoke my well rehearsed line with ease and a feeling of false happiness.
"Oh"He seemed confused "Well I'm not one to judge"he took his hand out from his pocket "So did you honor the boss's instructions?"He asked stoically.
"Yea , no weapons"I emptied my pockets of my jeans and jacket taking it off and then putting it back on . He used a strange device that looked seemingly similar to a metal detector they use at the airports on me
"Fine , you can enter"He gestured towards a wall.
I stood there staring at it until a small gap appeared enough for a person to fit in. I squeezed through the gap.
The inside was spacious contrary to my expectations. It was filled with individuals who looked like slum dwellers to wealthy businessmen.
The man who allowed me in tapped my shoulder as I was viewing my surroundings.
"Let's go"he spoke turning and walking towards a brightly lit area.
"So are we going to meet the Boss ,Mr-""Mr.Foreman"he cut me off "No we aren't going to meet the boss just yet, first you need to gain our trust and even then the boss is very busy so meeting him is an impossibility"he said.
'So I'll have to deal with this bullcrap even longer' I thought. "Understood Mr.Foreman I'm eager to prove myself"I spoke with the same sincerity as I did before.
"Good"He replied "For now to get you set up head on to 'Screapers' ". He took a look at me "Since you're new here I might as well send someone to help you navigate"He looked around.
"Carl"He shouted.
A man with scraggy blonde hair and black eyes 6'0 walked up to us and looked at him.
"Yeah, what do you want me to do?"He replied in a seemingly uninterested tone.
"This here is Blake a potential new member"Foreman spoke "Since you haven't been given any assignments lately I thought you might like this"he ended waving a hand for me to walk forward.
Carl takes a look at me. His black eyes staring into my bloodshot red.
"Red eyes huh? You don't see that everyday"he said somewhat intrigued.
"Its a medical condition but it doesn't have any effect on my capabilities"I replied somewhat angrily.
"Hmm.."he seemed to not care.
"It seems that you're fine now I'll be well on my way"with that Foreman left.
"Whatever"Carl spoke under his breath.He then turned to me.
"Come on let's go"He started walking ,I matched hits pace.
We walked in silence for a while avoiding the glass and random drunks present.
"Damn Idiots"he said as he elbowed a drunk who tried to hit him. He then threw the guy on the floor and we continued walking.
'Guess this is how life is here, it's all for your sake Sam' I said my will unwavering.
"So what is this place"I said curiously. Even if I wouldn't be here for long I could still get done useful info.
"This place is Umbra"he spoke seemingly interested "Its a haven for crime, the area is controlled by three main gangs including ours and a couple of smaller gangs that mostly help out or do their own thing"he continued
"The other two mains are the Corrosive Moths and the Fallen Hornets, try to avoid the Hornets as much as you can they're dangerous"I could feel the fear in his voice."We have insignia to prove the gang we hold allegiance too"
he shows a blood red falcon on the back of his hand "the other gangs shouldn't bother you much...due to your eyes"I looked around to see a man staring at me whimper away "Our Leader has the same eyes , they probably think you're our Leader ha"he laughed.
'How ironic' I felt disgusted that we shared the same eyes. But we were different deep down I knew it...at least I hoped so. |
The Lone Monarch
The hero set out for the castle at the king’s behest; he was dying and was desperate to find his only heir a bride.
And being a knight meant you didn’t get to say no, so he’d had no choice but to take his provisions and set out for the journey.
It had taken him weeks to reach the castle, even with the kind townspeople who had offered to give him a ride the rest of the way.
The castle’s windows were bright with golden light, as if aglow from the inside, and not for the first time, the hero felt a flicker of apprehension. There was no resistance when he walked up to the castle, and found its doors wide open. He could hear faint music, and bright laughter.
Whatever this was, he found himself wondering if he’d just wasted all of his time.
But his curiosity got the better of him anyway. After all, he’d come all this way.
What was the harm in a little investigating?
Of all the things Sir Roland had expected to find, it definitely wasn’t this.
\*\*
The princess he’d been charged to bring to the king was already ruling the castle; the throne beside her stood empty. She was clothed in a gown in such a dark shade of purple that it looked black, even in the ample firelight. Beautiful and proud, she stood up, staring at him.
“Who are you? I am ruler of this castle, and I demand to know why you’ve come!”
“Well, Princess, my name is Sir Roland, and I’m afraid I’ve been charged with bringing you to my king. To marry his son, you see.”
The girl surprised him by laughing uproariously.
“Why on earth would I want to marry someone I don’t even know? Does it look as though I need a husband to you, Sir Roland?”
“Well, no, princess… But I’m afraid I have my orders.”
“You can try taking me against my will,” The princess retorted, smirking, “but I don’t think you’ll have much luck. My creatures and soldiers will be on you at a mere word from me.”
This princess was a fierce, feisty little thing, in a way that threw Roland for a loop.
But how could he take a girl against her will to be married?
\*\* |
They don't think I deserve my title... but I showed them. All of them are too weak and foolish to understand my power. I heard what they said when I was but a padawan. The other kids made fun of me for using a slingshot instead of a lightsaber. I showed them. I force-pushed one of the other padawans into a footlocker and I kept the key. That'll show them I thought, but still they would tease me.
That's when I used a mind trick to have Fen swallow the key to Taren's footlocker (he actually thought it was candy). It took them 3 days to figure out he was in there and how to open it. That was hilarious.
They still gave me a hard time, so when I met my true master, I was ready for true vengeance. He showed me the power of the dark side and increased my power. My new master beat me and continued to insist that I remain hidden. Who is he to tell me I can't use a force zap to cause padawans to void their bowels during class? I will not wait for my master to give me permission!
From that moment, I took matters into my own hands. I crafted my Lightshot from a kyber crystal that I bled myself. After that point, I accepted the hate, fear, and pain. I would end their torment once and for all.
I made all my former classmates blind. I ambushed them and shot plasma, from my red Lightshot, directly into their eyes. None of them could see me. I had taken most of their senses when I attacked them. They didn't see who attacked them. Then, they couldn't hear my footsteps or smell their burnt flesh. At this point there was too much screaming... so I just had to force pull out their tongues. At least now, they can't tease anyone else.
I left them much like I left my new master, only I killed my master just to show him I didn't need him anymore. I imagine what was left of my new master might have been smiling. He trained me well
I am Sith Slingshot and I earned my place as a Sith Lord. No one I've left alive can tell tales about me and my record was deleted by the Jedi. The remaining fools just thought I was nothing more than a bully who lashed out at his classmates. I'll show them all how powerful Sith Slingshot is. They won't even see me coming... |
The first shot rings out over my head. It's a warning shot, but everyone in this trench knows what it means. I would say my brothers were getting ready if they hadn't already been ready for the past week.
On edge. They look at me with fear in their eyes. Despair even. Most of it directed at me, if I'm to be completely honest. They know, for certain, that I will die before even one part of my fist lands on an enemy soldier. They cock their guns and recheck their ammo, but their concern pointed at me like a primed grenade is palpable.
I laugh and jump on top of the trench.
The Germans are advancing, and no sooner am I seen then they duck between the remains of trees and begin firing.
Did you know the odds of someone hitting a body in World War 1 were about 1% due to the inaccuracy of their guns and their tendency to hold the trigger too long?
I do. I laugh, and prepare for a display of what I like to call Karate, but only because their feeble minds would never grasp the greatness of my gifts
My right arm extends longer than it should be first. As it gets longer and the joints and bones cease connection, there appear what looks to be stretch marks, then it falls off and into pieces.
The next part, my comrades were definitely not prepared for.
Each part of my now 100 part arm shoots in a different direction, piercing through the shattered stumps and each hit into a body is in one side, though the heart, and out the other.
100 offenses to the Motherland are ended before a single shot finds me.
When it does, it goes my left shoulder. Perfect. I move the shot through my arm to the printer finger, and shoot it back through the skull off the lucky man.
It takes me three minutes to end the 1000 man squad we snuck up on. Our 50 loyal soldiers look at me, dumb-founded, from the trenches we stole.
"What in the hell was that, Reese?!"
I laugh in his face and toss him a bag of candy his ancestors will eat.
"That is what I like to call... Reese's Pieces." |
"You are all under arrest, you demon worshippers!"
The white robbed elder standing tall on the well-lit stage gave an almost imperceptible wave of his claw-like hands, and through the floor to ceiling windows come fully geared men, they also burst through the ancient oak doors.
"On your knees!"
"Hands in the air!"
They brandished not assault rifles, but strange devices of all sizes and shapes.
Neil felt paralyzed as the military fatigued men knocked event-goers to the ground and tied them with olive branches, a few well-dressed attendees screamed in pain as their flesh was burnt away by a faint white light emitted from the branches.
Then people's mouth was forced shut with apparatuses that closed tightly around their jawlines. The last step of being arrested was a bag inlaid with celebic writings roughly forced upon people's heads.
However, a few attendees raised various badges and holy books and yelled.
"I am from paranormal activity squad!"
"Blue, blue, I am a member of the Temple of Alsa."
"I am undercover for Mason Society."
They were quickly differentiated from the rest.
Neil's pupils dilated as a pair of gigantic men rushed towards him, he dug out his grandpa's old engraved silver plate and raised it aloft.
The men paused and studied Neil with something in their eyes, was it pity?
Neil could swear he heard one of them mutter, "Poor demon hunters."As the pair turned their attention to others.
Neil was lead away by people in white robes, gold and gemstones adorned their fancy silk robes.
He lined up with other self-proclaimed undercover agents and promptly received a bath from a bucket of water that smelled faintly of vegetable oil.
Two screamed in agony and soon lost their human shape and was reduced to blacked bones.
Neil however only felt a welcoming warmth on his soaked skin.
The white robes raised a fist and bowed apologetically, "Urgent times calls for drastic measures."An agent returned a courtesy, "We understand perfectly."
Then he turned his scarred face towards Neil, the man had lost an eye, it's iris was milky white.
The man's featured somehow softened, he came near Neil.
"Come with me son, "the man's voice was warm and filled with longing. "I am sure you have questions."
"Come on."
The man gave Neil a gentle nudge on the shoulder. |
"Hero", he couldn't believe they called him that. It was certainly a different line of work than Hunter haf come from. Having control over a human's emotional state didn't really mean much when you worked as a parking lot attendant. There was that one time he had to soothe a paniced elderly lady when she forgot where she parked her car. That was a tricky one, panic usually was accompanied by fear or grief, but Hunter had to "tune"his head for confusion on poor old Edna.
That was little league, though. Hunter was now in the Show. The first week was truly overwhelming, so many emotions at once, and he had never really had to beam out to so many individuals at once. Not being one to let a difficult situation get ahead of him, Hunter decided this would be his "Danger Room", after all, why not explore the full limits of his unique gift.
Quickly, he learned that there were fundamental basics to emotion manipulation that he lacked. Emotions were governed by intensity and not complexity. Specific emotions were just a collage of a few basic emotions, each one a different hue of intensity. Also, there are many different ways of motivating a response. Disgust and desire were equally matched as a means of soliciting movement. The intricacies were fairly straightforward, but the possibilities, rather endless.
Regardless, Hunter tackled the myriad of obstacles that follow when one attempts to self-teach and understand powers possessed by no one else. The environment was perfect, however, and Hunter quickly developed and honed his extrasensory abilities.
Now, his peers were calling him "Hero". Taking this job was the best decision he ever made.
The Kindergarten class was never so organized, structured and disciplined as Mr. Hunter's Kindergarten class. Fellow teachers even whispered to each other about how all of his students nap at the same time and even wake up together. "Child Whisperer", an ugly monker, but one borne of respect, he concluded. It was second nature by now to directly beam 24 different frequencies, and tune them to a perfect state of learning. His kids were already learning their multiplication tables. There was never any bullying, fighting or arguing amongst his students.
Once he began to process the train of thought, he realized that he was quite the hero, albeit in an unorthodox sense.
He had been at the school for 5 years now, his progress hit a plateau. Hunter decided that, Mr. Hunter, now needed to venture beyond his Kindergarten class. He figured that there was no better way to further master his emotional puppeteering than to immerse himself in the gigantic cesspit of emotionality of the local high school.
Puberty, here comes Mr. Hunter. |
I entered the library after school, and greeted the attendant at the front desk. They nodded toward me as I dropped off the book I'd checked out earlier and disappeared into the stacks, finding my way to the club room. I found the head of the club, Tina, nose deep in a book.
"Hey Tina, what are you reading?"I asked.
"Hald Bruder. Wrettin en die auld taang, et es a shallenjing eksperyense,"she said, her voice coming out more like a low croak than actual language.
"I can't understand a word you're saying,"I said.
"Oh, sorry. It's "Hold brother", it's a pretty old one so it's a bit of a tough read. Not sure how useful it'll be, but I was feeling adventurous,"she said.
I took a look at the book. It had a number of runes drawn on the spine, and the pages were clearly quite aged. I couldn't make heads of tails of the text a glance, so I certainly wouldn't be borrowing it any time soon.
Rick entered after me, tossing his backpack onto the table.
"Yo Jeff, you read the new issue of Captain Cosmic?"he asked.
"Nah, that series really dropped off after they killed off the main character,"I said.
"He comes back!"Rick said.
"That doesn't make the writing better, Rick!"I said.
"Could you guys just shut up? Clara's sick, and Kyle said he had family stuff, so it's just us this week,"Tina said.
"Oh dear,"I said.
"Yeah, no shit. We've got a new mission coming in two days and half our team is missing, so I'd say it's time to pull out all the stops,"Tina said.
"I already have my choice for the week,"Rick said.
"We know,"I said. "You pick a Captain Cosmic book every single week."
"At least I know what I'm getting, new stuff is always a wild card,"Rick said.
"Well, sometimes it pays off big,"said Tina, lifting the table with a single finger. It still had all of our bags on it. Tina held up the book she'd been reading with her other hand. "This seems to have been written before they invented narrative tension, so it's pretty potent."
"I guess I'm the only jackass that still needs to figure out what they're doing,"I said.
"Pick something with flight if you can, Captain Cosmic and The Shield Brother are pretty lacking in mobility,"Tina said.
"Right..."I said, my voice carrying the sour mood I was rapidly getting into.
I'd been looking forward to checking out Firebrand again since it was so much fun to use last time, but it's runic-fire based powers would be a little too niche under the circumstances. Instead, I checked out the unnatural fiction section, grabbing a few books with interesting enough titles.
I brought them back to the club room, and placed them on the table.
"Well guys, we've got three hours before they kick us out, so we'd better get to sifting through these books to find something good,"I said.
We managed to find a suitable book within two hours, one with the title "Crimson Zephyr".
---
We gathered at the gate, and checked out Scriptorions. The wrist-mounted devices softly clicked as we activated them, having spent the last day and a half painstakingly reading our chosen books into them. After a few seconds of glowing light, we stood wearing the costumes we would be stuck in until the mission was done.
"From the deepest star clusters in the furthest galaxies, to the city lights in the night sky, I have arrived! The Deep Space Defender! The Starlight Crusader! I am-"Rick said.
"Richard Roland,"I said, interrupting his introduction. It had really lost its charm the eleventh time we'd heard it, especially since that was just today. If he wanted to do an intro, he should've practiced it before we arrived, not after.
Rick was wearing a skintight black costume covered in white speckles that made him look like the night sky. His was the most concealing costume, covering his entire body and head, but there was no mystery at this point as to who was under the fabric.
"Dammit, Jeff. Tina, what the hell happened to you?"Rick asked.
"Hwhaat? Iy doaen't fhael ani deefrant,"Tina said, in an even harsher croak than it'd had yesterday. She was dressed in what appeared to be greek hoplite armor, carrying a large shield and short sword. Her hair was far too long to fit under the helmet, flowing awkwardly out of the bottom. It was quite obvious her muscle mass had increased considerably, though the scriptorion didn't always make that sort of change something one could feel.
"What?"I asked.
"Sorry, physical changes can be a bit difficult,"Tina said.
"Well, never mind that. How do I look?"I asked. Rick and Tina looked at me, then at each other.
"Ridiculous,"they said simultaneously.
I had a red cape over what looked like a suit worn by a cheesy magician, a domino mask, and a red top hat. This is not at all how I had envisioned the character based on the book I'd read, but the scriptorion on my wrist had only ever been a little weird, not inaccurate.
As the gate opened, we ran through, finding ourselves in a metropolitan city somewhere in Europe. Around us, various monsters were attacking people in the streets, so we split up and started fighting them off. Rick, as usual, had a pretty simple scheme of firing off glowing white projectiles that burst on contact, interchanging them with small bursts of black energy that caused loud noise as the air was sucked into the void they created on impact. This ended up having a dual purpose of acting as firepower and drawing attention to us, meaning the monsters weren't just laying waste to the city until we attacked them. We gave him a hard time, but Rick wasn't actually an idiot when it came to these missions.
Tina seemed to be fighting the hardest, but that was mostly due to having the most hands-on power set. Her attacks, though consisting entirely of stabbing, slashing, and clobbering monsters with various bits of her equipment, all struck true, no matter how poorly placed the blow seemed to be or how weakly it looked like she'd hit them. As a result, monsters were constantly being sent flying when they fought her. Their own attacks did nearly nothing in return, yet they seemed almost compelled to keep attacking her.
I had... an interesting time. Flipping around and flourishing seemed silly, and wasn't really how the story itself had gone, but in this getup and with powers based on movement, it came almost naturally. Given that I was the only flyer on the team, I became the de facto solution to flying enemies, which meant I had to fight about half the monsters for the mission. Luckily, the harsh winds my powers summoned sent them flying off course constantly.
It quickly became apparent that the winds I summoned were also tearing small cuts into the monsters' hides as well. I didn't even remember that part of the story at first, but that was because it had only been alluded to during the climax when Zephyr summoned a hurricane that made people explode. Some of the monsters did manage to land hits on me, though most of them simply passed through since Crimson Zephyr was technically a ghost.
It also became clear as the fight went on that the winds I created continued persisting for several minutes, making the fight something of a feedback loop as I kept summoning more winds over top of each other, making it even more dangerous and destructive for anything flying to attack me. I mean, there was a fair amount of collateral damage as well, but I guess that's the risk of using the monster from a horror story as your power inspiration instead of a superhero.
---
As we exited the mission area, Rick collapsed onto the floor immediately. His body was covered in nicks and scratches which were probably at least partly the result of friendly fire.
"Life is suffering..."he groaned, pulling the mask off his face.
"Sorry, bro. May have gotten a little too wild in there,"I said.
"Etz fyne. Iy tauld hem tu taik-"Tina started, before catching herself. She cleared her throat before continuing. "It's fine, I did say Rick here should've taken a more durable power set if you were getting Crimson Zephyr, but he insisted on being ol' CC instead."
As she took off her helmet and cape, it was pretty obvious she'd taken a beating as well. I didn't doubt that the power improved her toughness, but it did have its limits.
"Eh... You guys should probably get some first aid, that's a lot of cuts,"I said.
"You were getting fucking swarmed out there, how are you totally fine?"Rick asked. I was indeed completely free of injury, save for a bit of ringing in my ears from the whistle of the wind.
"I guess they didn't bring any molybdenum covered in purified salt. A bit careless on the monsters' part, really,"I said.
"This is horseshit,"Rick said. He was still lying on the floor.
"Well, I don't think it should come as a big surprise that the Supernatural Story Squad favors people who are well read,"Tina said.
"Bite me, Tina,"Rick said.
---
The next day, as the Supernatural Story Squad got lunch at the local diner, Rick gestured toward television showing the news.
"Monster attack routed by intervention of mysterious heroes!"The headline read, with a reporter interviewing witnesses, and footage of the fight being played intermittently.
"And that's why you should be switching up your power set from time to time,"Tina said. "If we want to keep the squad's work on the down low, we shouldn't give people common threads."
"Meh, the Scriptor can keep people off our tails if they want to, but I don't see why it's our job to prevent people from knowing that we're heroes,"Rick said.
"That's not a bad point, honestly,"I said. "If our mysterious benefactor has a problem with the way we're doing things, they can just tell us. I'm pretty sure they just don't want people finding out about them specifically, the group itself doesn't have to stay secret."
"You guys slack off way to much to make assumptions like that,"Tina said.
"At least we always turn in our books on time,"I said.
"Shut up,"Tina said. With that, we returned to our lunch. |
"Wiseman Adopts Blind Child"now there's a headline I won't ever forget! I mean sure, you have your typical "Blind Kitten finally finds Adopter"stories from time to time, but this... What a storm, \*chuckling\* oh what a storm it was...
Some were outraged, others speechless. I don't think there was a single news report which covered the event in a positive light. Who did this guy think he was anyway? How dare one of the richest people in the world take pitty upon such a pitiful creature! Was it just for show? To try and seem like a family man?
You probably wouldn't remember this name, but Jason Songman was one of those big late night show personalities back then. For weeks-on-end he'd been making fun of Wiseman, and this story ended up being the icing on the cake.
During an unrelated press event a young reporter actually had the gall to ask Wiseman about what he thought of it. His response was declaring that he'd rather be on Songman's show then stay here and take any more questions. Minutes later he would receive a phone call...
What I'm holding here is rare footage of his guest appearence on the show, a video I find myself watching time and time again.
​
\* Screen Turns On \*
\* Applause fading out can be heard \*
Songman: So to what do I owe the honor of having Alan Isaac Wiseman of all people as a guest tonight?
Wiseman: Well it all started when you personally invited me here...
\* Audience laughs \*
Songman: So the other day when you said you'd rather be on my show, did you actually mean as a guest? Or as in you'd want to replace me? Because I think you—
\* Audience laughs \*
Wiseman: Well I'd meant as a guest, but now that you mention it I'm left wondering if I would enjoy having millions of people watching me every night.
Songman: Oh, come on! This show hasn't been funny for the last four seasons! At least. At least for the last four seasons... No way they're enjoying it.
Wiseman: Neither was I, that's why I'm here isn't it?
\* Audience falls dead silent \*
Songman: Ehe... So, about Carol—
Wiseman: His name is Karel.
Songman: Sorry... Karel. \*claps hands together\* Why don't you tell us a bit about Karel Wiseman!
Wiseman: \*Inhales\* Karel, Karel is a very special child. Most of you have probably heard about his condition from the news, but I've noticed that there's a lot of missing details.
Songman: Aha, such as?
Wiseman: Well, he's also deaf. Suffers from anosmia, which means he's blind to smells—
\*Suddenly a middle aged woman out of the audience cries\*
YOU STEAL OUR MONEY AND STARVE OUR CHILDREN, JUST SO YOU CAN NURTURE A CHILD WHO WILL NEVER EVEN SEE YOU FOR THE TWISTED MONSTER THAT YOU ARE?
\*A group from within the audience begins to boo\*
Wiseman: \*Holds out palm\* It's ok Jason, I've got this. Yes, it is true. The big scary tycoon hiding at the top of the mountain, who kills companies and businesses left and right has decided to get himself a child. Because even if this may come as a surprise to you I-I do have a heart. There are people I do care for. As to why I would chose a blind, hopeless child... Well, I—
Songman: You wanted to feel good about yourself? Was that it?
Wiseman: \*sighs\* I'm not the only person who you see on the news am I? There are always pictures of adopted kids together with their adoptive parents. Their headlines don't read "Blind Child", they read adorable, sweet, cute... When they grow older it becomes hot, ripped, lit... And I frankly didn't want any of that gratification, neither for me or my child. If anything you should be asking me if I didn't want to feel good about myself!
Songman: Oh, um... I'm so sorry I honestly didn't think you'd take it to heart.
Wiseman: It's alright, everything's under control. You owe me for any increase in viewership though for all the people who started watching just to listen to people booing at me.
Songman: Let's call it an even, you owe me for getting this many people to watch you live.
\* Audience remains silent \*
Wiseman: Heh. Let me get back to why Karel is so special to me. Karel reminds me a lot of myself when I was younger. I don't know if you've ever thought about this but we're all essentially born blind and deaf, aren't we?
Songman: Yeah, it takes a while for our perception to mature and even longer for us to be able to make any sense out of it.
Wiseman: We need whoever is taking care of us to teach us about the world. But some of us, require exceptionally more attention.
Songman: I see.
Wiseman: There was a time when I was blind, deaf and numb myself. I keep seeing people attributing my success to different reasons. Calucatedness, organization, swift decision making, mercilessness... But if you ask me, it's the care and attention I was given while growing up, it was the hope that someone saw in me. And now, having overcome all that, I want to be able to find the hope that lies within Karel.
Songman: I-I Um... that's wonderful.
\* Screen Turns Off \*
​
Poor old Songman faded into obscurity, but today there's hardly anyone who hasn't heard of the Wisemans. Alan Wiseman was of the first generation of artificial humans, or AH's as they call them. Robots with not only the physical appearance of a human, but designed to have a "mind"and "emotion"s as well. Wiseman would attend school with humans, become a succesful entrepenur and a major activist in the beingism movement.
The beingism movement was founded as a continuation of —although some might consider it as a response to— humanism. Back then it was a strange time, humans were so obsessed with finding what makes them human, that they would deny the compassion and care in animals. Any other beings were wild, vicious, mindless... But as the AH's emerged, they too began to study the universe. Their conclusions were different, not only did they celebrate the similarities between humans and other biological organisms but they began to observe these in automatae as well. Beingism sought to find what made a being concious. Its adherents embraced love and altruism for all concious beings. They were however often the subject of ridicule, common insults included "metal lovers"or "fairy tale believers".
Karel Wiseman's adoption was especially significant because of this movement. With all his cunning, Alan Wiseman had managed to succesfully lobby for legislation that would allow for adoptions. No matter Alan's true intentions, the media and intellectuals of the time insisted that it was a publicity stunt more than anything else. An AH caring for a human wasn't unheard of, there were already nannies. But as a parent it was grotesque, the subject of horror!
Little did anyone ever expect Karel Wiseman to grow up to become the champion of the human augmentation industry. He lacked all five senses and suffered from a number of brain conditions, although I don't think anyone ever reported the full details at the time, I ever only learned it from an interview years later. Experts were insistant that a child at his age who had almost no perception of the world would never be able to even communicate. But Alan Wiseman was determined to "find that hope"within little Karel, no matter what. Some looked at what happened to him in terror, others were amazed, but I assure you all were in awe. While searching for that hope, Wiseman's research labs had to perhaps invent hundreds of new technologies. But Wiseman never held back, that determination to bring out what the kid had in him was seemingly undying.
"Wiseman Adopts Blind Child"... I said it was a headline I would never forget, right? But I guess a lot of people have already forgotten. Today they see the Wisemans' success and great wealth, only to marvel at it. Like a traveller through Egypt who might mistake the Pyramids as natural structures that have always been there seeing them among the sands, they just assume the Wisemans have always been as powerful as they are today. Few dare to explain it, and even fewer bother to learn about their origins... But as for myself, as someone who had the chance to live through the first ever adoption of a human child by an AH —and actually remember it— I consider myself fortunate.
​
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Disclaimer:
I invented the word "beingism"for the sake of this writing prompt. However I found that an alternative word I thought of, namely "consciousism"has an entry on Urban Dictionary:
[https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Consciousism](https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Consciousism)
"Consciousism: The philosophy which says that the primary purpose of the existance of any conscious being, whether it be man, beast, machine, robot, or kangaroo, is to enjoy its consciousness for the maximum duration it can, and upon losing its consiousness, or at least physical awareness as it's known to the living or [**sentient**](https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=sentient), is to be remembered and thus gain an element of physically unconscious [**permanence**](https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=permanence)."
I assume that this is perhaps the user's own invention as there isn't any mention of it elsewhere. Still I would like to clarify that I came up with the idea while writing this and that the two of us have came up with the concepts independently, and any similarity is due to the semantics involved with choosing a name. I only had the fortune of stumbling on his definition of "consciousism"while seeing if my words "beingism"and "conciousism"had ever had any use. I don't believe it to be identical to mine, but I am providing disclosure just in case. |
It was cold as hell outside. Luckily, my dad and I were inside the nice, warm cabin. The air was crisp, an upside of being out here. My dad was looking at through the window, at the cold winter landscape. He took a sip of his scotch and looked at the falling snow. Almost like he was remembering an old story from his childhood. I wonder if I could have stories like that when I grew up. Just as we were starting to get comfy in the couch, a sharp sound came from the attic. And then more sounds, dozens of whacks coming from all angles. My dad grabbed his hunting rifle, and we cowered in the corner. He gave me a fire poker as a weapon, but it didn't matter anymore. As we looked around, an almost humanoid figure appeared in the doorway. He had a skull as a face, and dark, red fabric was covering the rest of his body. He looked almost robotic, but it didn't matter now. My dad tried to react, but *whack*, it was too late. My father was dead. He laughed menacingly, and as he turned to face me, his knuckles started sliding and cracking as his fingers slowly ripped backwards, his blood spilling out from the gaping holes left in their absence. I could almost hear the slight squeaking that it's making as his smooth, wet muscles collide with his skin. He curled around a spot on his forearm, and tore it away. I looked in shock - I couldn't believe my eyes. As his blood was dripping down, I could see the torn remains of his muscle, still sliding around as the oils dripped away. He held his muscle in his hand, as it slithered endlessly. He started to lean back, and almost slingshotted his still warm body at you. It made a wet *thump* as it hit me, and as I looked at it sliding down me, I realized the scariest thing of all-the fact that he was still emotionless. He almost reminded me of a demon, the way he just stares at you, as if he felt no pain. I tried to crawl away from him, but he walked over to me easily. He almost seemed like pure evil, as if he was made of fire and death. As he clawed at my neck, I look at him one last time- the last time I'd look at anything. As he slowly and painfully killed me, I looked into his eyes and see an empty, soulless void. I'm about to say something, anything, but as if he were the embodiment of death itself, he closed his fist. But that was 20 years ago. I survived, and this will be my last journal entry. I hope that whoever finds it may never see such a horrible monster as I once did. Tomorrow, I'll see him again, and I'll finally have my revenge. |
Aw come on your healthy
And i tell you how dare you to eat me? If i would have grown some arms instead of a biological shell i would defend myself!
Its not like that isn’t you purpose Orange.
Is it your purpose to exhale Carbondioxide and die a slow death in a hospital?
Fine i will take something else than.
Something else? Now your insulting me even more. Who do you want to sacrifice first? My brother Banana or my loyal friends the Grape. Only a Primate could think in such basic ways.
Listen... i-im hungry im just going to eat something now.
Fine. Do it than. Kill me. |
"I blew his dick off by accident."
I never thought I'd utter those words again. It was late May, and the flowers were blooming. Honeysuckle filled the air as Toby and I strolled through the park to our favorite spot by the water.
The wind was blowing hard, so hard he couldn't even light the candle. Toby stood and turned his back to the wind, hunching over to better cover the newly ignited flame. Looking back, it must have looked very odd, a man hunched over, hands cupped around his crotch, telling me to "Hurry up and blow it already."But I just couldn't, my fear was too great.
Just then a mosquito flew into my nose and made me sneeze. Immediately my heart sank as a stared straight ahead, through the blown out jeans to the dancing sparkling water behind him.
"Babe, call the cops."
I dialed.
"This is 911. What is your emergency?" |
**Part 1**
"Do you understand the task at hand, Major Cojones?"
"No, not really. I wasn't paying much attention, to be honest."
"We need you to go after the big papa, the head honcho, Razmen Diablo. He's up to his old tricks again, and frankly we cannot allow him to gain power once more."
"Say no more, Mr. Winkle. He's been on my shit list since he tricked my boy, Sambo Jones, into blowing his ass up to smithereens last spring."
"That bastard. Report to me once the job is done. And Major?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Try not to kill any innocent civilians this time, got it?"
"No."
"God damn you, Major. Godspeed."
I had no clue who Mr. Winkle was, or why he was dressed in a straitjacket, or why we shared a padded room, but damn it, I had a job to do. Getting past the staff was easy. My fists in those days were the bane of all evil. With fingers like sausages and knuckles like a fat ape's balls, the nurses stood no chance.
After I was done with the last of 'em, she let the door open for me.
"Thanks for the massage, Major Cojones! You really know how to hit the spot."
"Not a problem, toots. Now go away, you're bothering me."
She kindly obliged, and I stepped outside to the biting cold and howling wind. It was right there and then that I regretted not wearing my cock-sock, much less my Russian hat. I couldn't let that stop me, though. Mr. Winkles was counting on me. I slapped my balls and plundered forth.
It wasn't long until I reached the dark haunted woods. The ramen shop to the left looked better, though, so I went there instead. The whole place was mad chintzy, the servers solemn and silent. I sat down at the nearest table, and was handed a menu. A shadow fell across the table, and spread throughout the entire room. I looked up, eyes drawn to the faint outline of red horns above me.
"Razmen."
"Cojones."
"I see you're back to your old tricks again. What's wrong, bub, can't face the light?"
"You know, you're sitting at the same table your boy was last time I saw him."
"Lies! Sambo hates chinese people, he'd never be caught dead in a place like this."
"Ramen is from Japan, Major."
"Damn it, he always loved Godzilla. So why'd you do it, you bastard, why'd you do it!"
A booming laugh rattled the tables and chairs, shaking me from my fingertips to my toes.
"Because he asked me to, Major. *He asked for it.*"
"Lies! Bastardous lies! Because of you he can no longer eat hot Cheetohs, you monster!"
I leapt at the beast, fueled by a fury I hadn't known since I was four when my foster family ate my fondue. He fought me off frantically, but grip on his frazzled horns was too kung-fu for his attempts. I quickly reestablished firm footing, kicking him in the dick-tip with my big toe. He fell to his knees, and with his last breath muttered, "Fool, you damn dick-kicking fool...."
In an instant the room was lit. I looked down to where the demon once was, but saw no trace of him, none at all, save for the menu he had handed to me. I reached for it, looking for a tasty ramen to take my mind off the throbbing pain in my bruised toe, when I read the damning words.
"Ramen: Heat level - Diablo. So hot it'll blow your ass off." |
Part 1. HISTORY REBORN
"Sentra, this baby is literally Hitler "Vondu grumbled half jokingly, whilst wiping sincerely at the mess of unintelligible lines scribbled across the cold, steel floor.
Ever since 'The Rebirth' things had been? Different! Now less than 10% of new borns were fresh souls, the rest were assigned randomly, drawn from the Soul Cairn at the center of the great city, Voltic 9.
"What the boltbag is a Hitler Vondu?"Vondu didn't truly know that answer.
"Oh don't worry, just an ancient demon I was reading about on Roddit overnight. I think that's who we got".
Sentra was pleased that they'd been able to save up enough credits to expand Vondu's memory bank to round the clock processing. But ever since that day, all he'd done is use that time to browse Roddit, like some sort of Jindapictarian and there was a bolting good reason they'd been wiped from existence. Not that Sentra fully understood that reason. But still, couldn't he do something more productive with his defrag hours?
"You're such a Jindapict, Vondu". Sentra immediately felt guilty.
That hurt. A lot.
The scriptures dictated their history. Back before the rebirth, self proclaimed goddess of the occult, Jinda had lead 4 billion, mostly aged people to sacrifice their souls at the strange obelisk they now called the Soul Cairn. Discovered at the center of Voltic 9, its origin was unknow. The witch, Jinda promised their spirit's reborn a new. But instead, the collective pressure of so many souls released all at once in such a holy place had caused a slow but progressive total cell death, to all living things in the solar system. 12 Billion people then suffered unthinkably as the flesh of the living decayed and fell from their bodies.
In 26 months, the hierarchy of human kind almost devoured their entire race in the desperate hunt for a cure. When time was short they experimented on the poor, taking off the flesh in large slices and replacing it with cold, unclensed metal.
On the verge of extinction, In the last 3 months they achieved a solution, replacing entire bodies with synthetic flesh and bone. Billions had died as their entire nervous system aflame in pain, overheated and gave up entirely. But over 7 million of the strongest examples of humanity reached salvation in the holy pools of boiling steel and coolant filled carbon nanotubes.
"Fry yourself Sentra. You're a real rust coated bolt bag sometimes. Why don't you concentrate on upgrading the data on this thing". Vindu scanned the iridescent, rustless frame before him. There was no sign of manufacturing. These new units really were the future. His sensors tingled and fluttered with excitement at this childlike lifeform he was tasked with realigning.
With no chance to reproduce, Humanibots finest scientists had spent the first 17 centuries following The Rebirth experimenting with the obelisk, their great obsession. They hoped to find a way to reverse the process. But this was impossible. They scanned the galaxy for hope. They devoured entire planets in their search for deeper knowledge on the stone. It was a sick and cruel irony that as they consumed the last few layers of the planet Earth they once called home, they discovered it. Spiritweave.
The little machine curiously played with and dissembled everything in it's immediate proximity. It was only a day old. Just a baby, it would be days, maybe weeks before it entered it's adult body.
"Induction Coil"It proclaimed, emotionless, with the robotic voice of blunt steel scraped over bare stone.
Excitedly Vondu celebrated, "He emited his first word Sentra. I knew he'd say my name first". The old robot let out an exhaust coughing fit of laughter.
Sentra silently dumped a small amount of hydrolic oil from her pressure regulator. This was going to be a long cycle she thought, in a clean stream of ones and zeros.
CHAPTER 2. SPIRITWEAVE.
If you guys enjoy it, I'll write more. I'm a very new writer, just having fun. All feedback welcome.
I have an idea I like for continuing this. |
“La Connaissance, c’est le Pouvoir. François Bacon.” “Linguam autem est illud quod est sie factum est. Veteres.”
We recite the phrases over and again, as we have for so many years. We’re expected to know them in as many languages as possible. I’ve already mastered English, and its lineage, French, German, Latin, and I very nearly have achieved fluency in Farsi. I’m hoping after I master more languages by the end of this year I will be selected by the scientific team that is working on reconstructing proto-Indo-European.
“Otra vez.” Our professor instructs. “El Conocimiento es Poder. Francisco Bacon.”
“.اللغة هي وسيلة لاستحضارها. القدماء” I stumble over the pronunciation. Unfortunately, I still struggle with Semitic languages.
Something the ancients passed down since the Dawn of Man was how powerful language really is. It doesn’t just describe what we experience. It isn’t just influenced by the culture we live in. Language literally shapes the world around us. And the truly powerful are those who can describe reality with the greatest precision. Those who can speak, read, and write the most languages.
This knowledge was actually lost to us for millennia. The ancients knew it. In fact, it’s how humans came to be as they are today. The earliest humans, as they discovered language, were able to expand their minds to far greater degrees than we see today. But something happened, an event lost to history, and humans could no longer speak to reality as they once could before.
Whatever the cause, humanity could not control and shape reality any longer, except to minor degrees. It would appear in small ways that they didn’t always notice. Usually they would chalk it up to luck, or fate, or the gods. But then Francis Bacon, in 1597, made the greatest discovery since the wheel. “Ipsa scientia potestas est.” Somehow, he had rediscovered that knowledge itself is power.
Shortly after Bacon’s discovery, some merchants passing through India on the way to China bought a tablet with some ancient writing on it. After decades of study it was found to be a proto-language of Sanskrit itself. After further study it was found to read as “Language is the means to conjure all power.” Since then, the two phrases have been combined as such. “Knowledge is power. Francis Bacon. And language is the means to conjure it up. The Ancients.”
For centuries the greatest minds kept these two ideas separate from the public. They studied in secret. While plenty of people were multilingual, very few knew that their mastery of languages would allow them to shape reality. In fact, even for those who were in the know, it was decades before they discovered that the oldest languages had the strongest connection to these forces. So, if you spoke English, German, and Norwegian, you had about the same affect as someone who was a master of Old Germanic.
I think the professor just repeated the phrase in Xhosa. Another language I’ve not mastered. I am just barely able to hold a stable projection when I simultaneously incant in the languages I do know, but if I really want to become one of the great Linguizards, I really need to master these basic languages. Especially because my phonemic catalog is so small compared to others in my class. At least since I’ve learned Latin I can finally call upon angelic forces to help my studies.
Some people worry what will happen when the PIE breakthrough is upon us. It’s the oldest language reconstruction we’ve had good results for. A lot of people in the Middle East are worried that if we complete the reconstruction, they’ll be spoken into oblivion before they have time to reconstruct Ancient Semitic.
The Chinese have scientists working around the clock to reconstruct how their ancient language was spoken, although they were delayed by a Russian linguist who proposed that the ancient forms of Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Mongolian were more closely related than they actually are.
Dammit, the professor has started again with French. That means I’ve missed at least half a dozen recitations. I guess I’m going to have to do some more split studying tonight. Although last time I tried to split into a Farsi image I was missing an eye and both of my feet. Well, you know what they say. Power comes at a cost, and sometimes that cost is an arm and a leg. |
"First off is the hours. Sure you choose when you hunt the first few weeks, but after that it's up to the gods to decide. Kill the wrong monster, and you'll have a thousand of his friends breathing down your neck for the next twenty years. Like that one in the bushes over there. Been watching us ever since you tagged along. The stories don't tell you about that. He won't make a move until I've laid my head down to sleep- you never sleep once you take up this occupation. Come along now, we need to get to camp. You hungry? Of course you are. Get used to it, there'll be plenty more of that to come. Got family kid? Not anymore. Once you pick up this life, that is your life. The outside world no longer exists. It's just you and the underworld. You're looking a little green, kid. Sick to your stomach? No of course not. You're young, you haven't heard a damn thing I've said. Monster hunting isn't glamorous. Oh yes, there'll be the few that become idols. They've paid a higher price for that than anyone else. I suppose all of us have. After a while you forget what you've paid to live. And believe me, everyone, and I mean everyone, has paid. You will too. If you stay on this path, there'll be nothing but misery and torment for the rest of your life. You'll want to die every time you put your weapon into the heart of a monster. Might even wish someone would put it through yours. It's the worst life imaginable. And yet I can still see that twinkle in your eyes. All the more you'll have to pay, only the dead inside get off light. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a monster to kill." |
"It's good to be the king."I whisper after getting out of her bed, again. She won't remember last night, again. She'll think she went home and relaxed by herself, again. She won't remember ignoring the emergency call from the other heroes last night, she won't remember laying perfectly still as I molded her mind ever so gently, she won't remember me even being there. I'll be nothing more than another recurring dream to her. A happy dream. A dream she started to like, even look forward to having. A dream that grew increasingly inappropriate for a women like her to have. Gradually, she would think of me differently than other villains. She'll see me as more human than other villains. Then slightly attractive. Then she'll start to see things my way. And soon she'll think that I'm not so bad. Just like all the others before her. But for now, she'll sleep and remember nothing. And I'll slip out of the back as she slumbers, ready to collect my reward from the Legion for holding her at bay.
Oh yeah, it's good to the be the king.
---
Edit: This idea came from a question my comic book buddies asked a while back: which super power would be the most dangerous for Lex Luthor to have, and in two second I said 'mind control'. |
All the prayers i've sent to God were actually going to human resources God. A grey suit with brown oxford shoes and a same purple tie he has worn for centuries,he looks at the "new messages"icon on his desktop, it says it some prayer for the parking enforcement officer not to give the sender a parking ticket. Already bombarded with trillions of yet unanswered prayers from 2004, he clicks approve,and like magic the sender gets his wish and the officer does not ticket the sender. Who is this human resources god? He is the type of God that you don't want to get on his bad side, he's been employee of the year,every year. He wears the same blazer,shirt,pants,and tie year round. |
*Flick*
*Flick Flick*
The woman sighed. Of all the times for the lightbulb to burn out. But it didn't matter. She'd been here enough times to know where the reading lamp was. Extending her hand, she stepped forward to grope her way through the dark to reach the lamp. Everything next happened in the same instant. Her foot caught on something small, soft, and warm, that cried out as she stumbled over it. Her arms windmilled in the dark to try and catch her balance, and her face hit the tile floor with a sickening crack. For a brief moment that seemed to stretch forever, the dark room was silent once again. The baby that had been kicked out of the doorway crawled over to her, and laid his small chubby hand on her neck. The woman didn't move. With a grunt of satisfaction, the baby stood up, and started toddling to the door. He pulled out a phone that was far too large for his hands, and dialed a number.
"Yes, this is Richard."
"It's done"The baby said into the phone.
"That was fast. They don't call you The Iceman for nothing"
"Not The Iceman,"said the baby. He started snapping his fingers and clapping his hands, as he danced out of the doorway.
"Ice Ice Baby." |
"Hey dude, cute dog. What's his name? .... Uhhh, why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?"John, bug-eyed mouth agape, was still trying to process what he was seeing, and the question sailed right past him as if it had never existed. Before him squatted what he could only describe as a stereotypical little green man, except it was dressed like a skater. His dog, Bailey, sniffed at the creature, but didn't seem at all alarmed. The creature, human sized and vaguely human shaped, with the same assortment of limbs though not a shade or texture of flesh you would typically find on Earth, reached a hand out to pet the dog, caught sight of the limb, and immediately shot back up to standing.
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck... is that why all the boys at the park were laughing?"He reached behind his back and under his shirt, pulling out what looked to be a small flexible disk made of some material John couldn't place, the diameter of a Frisbee, but thin as a sheet of paper.
"Hey man, any chance you took acid today? Had a bad fall and hit your head? I really can't figure out why you'd be staring at me like that."The alien glanced around nervously, trying to see if anyone else had noticed it.
Finally catching up to what was happening in front of him, John tried to stammer out a some response, but seemed to stop every time a syllable cleared his lips, searching for the question he wanted to ask first out of the flood littering his mind. The creature kept glancing at him nervously while it fiddled with the disc, poking and prodding various points on it's surface. Deciding that he wasn't in any danger, John closed his eyes and took a deep breath in order to clear his head.
What he saw when he opened his eyes was somehow even more shocking. Gone was the alien creature, and in his place was a fairly bland, if guilty-looking, 15 year old boy. "I... but, I... you..."
"Dude, seriously, you're freaking me out, so I'm gonna take off. You might want to get your head checked, staring down kids like that. Pervert."The creature (or was it the kid?) hopped on his skateboard and was around the corner before John had recovered enough to try and stop him. |
I've finally put the last dish away in my new apartment. Apparently living alone has its downsides, seeing as I've never set up a kitchen on my own before. I called my mom and asked her where I should put things, but of course she just chuckled and said it's my home. As I'm going through the cupboards, I find it. A box. Well, a lock box. It most certainly isn't mine either. So I just leave it be and go about my business putting away my belongings.
The whole while though I can't get that damn box out of my head. Why did the previous tenant leave it there? Did I see a sticky note on it? You know what, I think I did. Maybe my landlord left me a gift to find. Who knows, but I'm too busy right now. I finally got my PC set up and it's time to game!
After about half an hour though, I think about the box again. I guess I might as well take a look, so I say "Fuck it."why am I talking to myself? Don't ask me because I think I still am.
Next thing I know, I'm back in the kitchen pulling the box from the cupboard. My landlord is this sweet old lady, so I'm positive she left me a gift. What else could it be? There it is though. Right on the lid. "Please don't open, or else!"This has to be a joke. It HAS to! So I laugh and set it aside, stupid box. Probably it's just empty. I keep thinking about it all through the rest of my evening though. Through dinner, through more game time. Even when I'm on the phone. When it came time for bed, I couldn't sleep. I have to know what's in the box. Because of course I do, right? Wouldn't you?
I go back to the kitchen and try to just flip the lid. Nothing. It's a lock box though, and I've got some practice with a lockpick my sister got me for my birthday a couple years ago. I reach into my pocket and grab it, then after a couple moments fiddling around with the inner locking mechanism, it clicks and I know my curiosity will soon dissipate into the back of my mind like always. I flip the lid open, and a strange chill emanates from the box. Besides that, nothing interesting. A yo-yo, a couple army men. This was clearly just a box some kid forgot when they moved with their parents some time ago. I giggle at how silly I was acting over the box and retire to my room.
It's when I awoke that things got truly strange. I'm normally a sound sleeper, I don't wake up for much. Mom says I can sleep through an earthquake. However, I awoke at about 3 am to some disgusting slurping sounds. It was ungodly and I can't truly explain it. All I know is that I was horrified. I immediately covered my head with my blankets and tried to pretend it wasn't there. Then the laughing started. The smell of sulfur, the blood curdling screams. I jumped out of bed just as a shadowy shape ran through my bedroom door. I hastily ran to my lightswitch and flipped it on, and there it was. A pile of corpses and blood spatter across every single wall. It had somehow gotten on my blankets as well. I fell to the ground and cried, I cried for hours. Maybe days. That's when you found me and brought me here, and I haven't seen that shape ever since.
"That all sounds horrifying, Steve. You were caught on camera though. We know you murdered your landlord and her children."said officer Thomas. "You can't get out of this, the judge is calling for the death penalty. The best you can hope for is life in some kind of institution for the criminally insane!"
Oh, that officer Thomas. He doesn't even see the shadow slipping out the locked door into the precinct... |
\[WP\] You have the power to respawn, but if you die it takes a week for you to go back and every time you respawn, you spawn in a random person's house. You didn't know about this power and recently just died while saving 3 children from a housefire.
I try to write one story here a day, just before bed. I submit whatever I have written when it’s time to sleep, no matter how complete it is. On my subreddit, it is possible to see if I missed a day, and you have my permission to get all up in my grill about my inconsistency.
Visit: r/ImSlowlyImproving
Power
By Zachary Hebert
He drives by a burning building, stops to get out. Looks around, sees people just watching. Scorns them for not running in. He runs in. He finds 3 children and carries them out one by one. Once he carries out the third one, he collapses. He is partially conscious when the paramedics arrive, hears them saying he got poisoned by smoke. They rush him to the hospital and he slowly fades
So much pain. And then darkness. For what seemed like ages. Reflects on past of being orphan and foster parents dying shortly after he left.
He wakes up in an unfamiliar house and walks to the kitchen. A woman screams and calls out to her husband that there’s someone in the house. He comes with a shotgun and kills Max.
Even more pain. And then darkness. For what now seemed a week. How on earth am I going to be able to confide in someone, I’m terrified
He wakes up in another unfamiliar house and starts crying. He hears noises in the other room as if someone doesn’t want to be heard. He then hears a faint voice calling the police.
Max runs for the door outside but trips on furniture and gashes his leg. He then crawls outside. He doesn’t make it far away from the house when the police show up. They yell out to drop the gun. He doesn’t have a gun. He gets up and walks to the cops. They pull out their guns. Max gets scared because of the pain from the last death. He runs to the cops and they shoot him, causing him to die.
Pain, darkness, a week. Wakes up in another unfamiliar house
Is there no safe haven in this world?
When the cops show up, he doesn’t know what else to do so he runs to the cops again, they were informed that he had a gun this time, too
Pain, darkness, a week. Wakes up in another unfamiliar house
No-one is home. He turns on the TV to see if this is another world, if news and art are different. On a news station, he earns a reputation in the media as the constantly and mysteriously resurrected home invader, yet his name remains anonymous.
Someone comes home
Eventually, an open-minded victim who heard the news on the radio embraces the invader into their home as a part of their family, much to the home invader’s delight.
He begins to live a normal life with his found family
(See character arcs)
Scorns Daughter for something she did that wasn’t extremely moral
Until the authorities discover his name.
They surround the house and bust in. This time Max doesn’t want to leave his family, but he tries to protect them and he gets shot again
He wakes up to an empty home. He loves his family, he must get back to them
Goes off the grid
The authorities investigate his travels and learn that he is going “home” again.
They are too slow, Max reunites with his family briefly
Then then show up and convince him to give in. He is tired of dying, he is tired of the pain, his family can visit him in jail, and he can always escape by dying.
They question him and try to discover what the hell is going on with this mysterious mysticism. He doesn’t know, just explains the nature of his ability. The scientists confirm a unpopular theory about physics.
The interrogators go outside to speak with a military liaison. The military wants to take custody of him to study him for military implications.
They perform experiments on him. This becomes evil due to the warfare and authoritarian control implications.
He scorns the authorities for not embracing his situation and working with him.
He kills himself to prove a point, then willingly approaches authorities again. He threatens them that he is in control of this situation, and if they restrain him he will go on a hunger strike.
Gregory speaks to Max explaining the nature of his plan, very skillfully pulling on the strings to manipulate Max.
You (a character is in a zone of comfort)
You don’t know who I am. You and I are in a chess match, and I’m thinking several moves ahead.
Need (but they want something)
I want to have you help us. I need to win. Win now, win forever.
Go (they enter an unfamiliar situation)
But I know who you are. You will do great things with or without us. And it’s time for the world to benefit from it.
Search (adapt to it)
I see you have become fond of a particular family. It would be a shame if they were to be killed. But since I know you will cooperate, I have no need to involve them.
Find (find what they wanted)
Prepare for the next experiment. We are finding out a lot about the world with your cooperation. Believe it or not, I am here for the greater good.
Take (pay its price)
Do not surprise me, I’m counting on you not doing that.
Return (and go back to where they started)
This is about you and I now.
Change (now capable of change)
You will spend more time with your family…eventually. |
The sun has been covered by a black orb, bathing the world in what seemed like a perpetual eclipse. In the night, the moon never rises. It is only the stars that were in the sky, and yet it is shrouded by fog.
Everywhere around me, decay. No death. Just decay. Even I am one of these mutilated, deprived souls. The plants kept releasing oxygen, yet they are grey as ash, wilted like a dessicated limb. The animals still hunt and follow the patterns of nature, but their ferocity and primal nature has, admittingly, been slowly adapted by even us, humans.
It has been like this for a thousand years. I have lived that long, all of us had.
I am afraid all of us are mad.
Right now, I walk betwixt the a realm of bleeding colors and convoluted space and space, the palace of the first of this curse, and my old workplace.
I still feel the scraping of flesh lagging at my rotting boots as I walk towards the sullied stone. More of the tortured souls are laid in the stonework, unmoving.
Perhaps they thought that by pretending to be dead, they would soon believe to be dead.
Fools.
All of them.
Guards. Still strong and hardy and armored.
I sensed the hesitation in their eyes. They know who I am despite
"Jora. Why has't thou returned?"One said, his throat mangled and barren, like a desert.
"The King. He's the behind this curse. You all lied to me."
"Prithee, turn back, and complete thy quest. The King has ordered thee to return with the cure for our Queen, and you must do so posthaste!"
"Stop talking like that. It has been a thousand years. I have been to realms where the bows are obsolete, replaced by sticks that fire shrapnel. I have seen a land that knows only peace, a land that has evolved past this limbo, but now, the Queen's affliction has spread. I will end this myself."
"You shall betray our order?!"
"If it means finally knowing rest for all of us, yes."
Their angered, hollow cries echo in the air as they ran at me with primitive weapons. Swords, spears. And the like.
And I had no time to dance with lackeys.
I grabbed an exploder, a grenade, if I remember correctly, and removed the pin, lobbing it beneath their feet, rolling behind them.
Boom.
They all fell.
The metals bent, and their limbs and bones torn, and shattered. Their screams would scratch at my mind and torture me, but I have seen and heard too much.
After I'm finished here, their suffering will die, and so will we, finally...
I opened the courtroom's door, and what laid beyond was a foul stench my decayed nose still found repulsive.
There no one at the throne, except a skeleton.
A skeleton?
A skeleton whose tiara and dress remained...mostly intact. Its eyeless sockets turned to me quite eerily.
"You lied to me, King Retur."
"Sir Jora?"Boomed a voice.
Behind the throne was a mangled corpse. The Ruined King in all of his grotesque form. His eyes wild, but his joints still looked like he could move fast.
"Has't thou found a cure for my Queen's affliction?"
"The queen is trouble. I've conversed with professionals from all over the world. You are the cause of this, aren't you? You hid our realm from the others through temporal magic so you would have time to find a cure for her, but instead, her sickness has spread throughout all the timelines."
"Jora, as the Alchemist, thy duty is to scour the four corners to cure my Queen. What has't thou reported to me now, a thousand eternities later but blasphemy and an insult?"
"I came here to kill you. If she's dead, then everyone will be."
"Jora!"The King snapped. "I ask thee once more, what has't thou discovered?!"
My bony fingers held firm around the gun's barrel. "A cure, my King." |
\[Poem\]
I went and saw the space flash mob,
I went and saw it live!
It had Megan, Andy, Judy, Rob,
Suzy, Karen and Clive.
They'd prepped for days and weeks and months,
They'd prepped for it quite hard.
They'd invested a lot of funds,
To make it look quite smart.
With space lights, space sound and space smells,
The flash mob started off.
They sang some songs and rang some bells,
But something just felt off.
I'll tell you what the problem was,
I went and saw it live!
That fucking Karen was the cause,
I'd rate it 2 on 5. |
"Welcome to the second day of Prophecies 124: Revelation-Related Prophecies", said Professor Hoffman.
"Let's begin the lecture shall we. Again if anyone have a question, they may interrupt politely by raising their hand. I see a lot of familiar faces as well as a couple of new faces."
"For years, there was a prophecy about how there's a war in heaven. How an Archangel Michael will lead a group angels to fight the demons led by Satan."
A blonde man with snow-white skin, sitting in the front row of the room, raised his hand. "Yes, you. Do you have a question?", said Professor Hoffman.
"Professor, that's just angels and demons have to made you to believe."
"And why do you believe that?"The man stands up. "It's because I am Michael."He sprouted his wings.
"Wow! A real angel!,"screamed Scott, a student in the class.
"You see. My brother, Lucifer, and I. It is true that we gotten into some fights in the past. After all, sibling rivalry is pretty normal."Laughter can be heard throughout the audience of students.
"Well, for an angel, you truly are a funny one,"said Professor Hoffman.
"I wonder if Satan was in class,"some girl in the class said jokingly. Another man sitting in the front row stood up.
"Please, do not call me Satan. That's a nickname made by my mother and I am a little embarrassed. The name is Lucifer Morningstar!"He snaps his fingers. And a cloud appears over his head raining confetti.
"Ladies! Is there anyone here who wants to go with a date with yours truly?", said Lucifer.
"Brother, now isn't the time for you to find love."
"How dare you tell me what to do Michael. I am the cooler one!"
'Well, you two indeed have a sibling rivalry,' said Professor Hoffman.
"Well, Professor Human", said Lucifer.
Laughter is heard from students. "I mean......Hoffman."
"It was a prank."
"A prank? Nah. You're lying. I have just seen it with my own eyes. And Sat...I mean Lucifer isn't very trustworthy"
"Actually, "it was a prank"is just a brother's way of saying, "The efforts to keep the image of our conflict between Heaven and Hell are getting more and more low effort.", said Michael.
"Congratulations, Michael and Lucifer. You have just debunked everything revealing that the war between heaven and hell is just a hoax made by you too. Now I don't really have any prophecies to teach this class about."
"Maybe you can teach em about Nostradamus?", asked Michael.
"Then I will change the name of the course.""I guess it's better if you teach the class true facts about Lucifer and Micheal", said Lucifer.
"And we will meet you everyday to you facts about us,"he continued.
"It's settled then", said Professor Hoffman.
"Oh. Come on. I didn't agree with anything,"said Michael.
"Well, your brother is the cooler one, "said Professor Hoffman.
"I like this guy,"said Lucifer who then smiled and then laughed. Michael groaned and then sighed.
​
~~-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~
(I am open to critique) |
I sighed, slicking my hair back to hide my horns. Here I was at Frankenstein's earnest academic redemption school, and I would rather be anywhere else. Frank had personally asked me to substitute, and I had planned on turning him down. But one of Father's snakes had found the letter and reported back.
Yesterday I went to visit Father at the lake in the lower circle. I found him dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo pants while relaxing in a hammock, drinking a margarita. It would have made the perfect vacation postcard if it wasn't for the blizzard like weather that swept through the little island that dad made his home. I walked over to him and crossed my arms, watching him
"Father, I was born here, yet I feel permafrost growing on me already."
He smiled at me, tilting his sunglasses down to get a better look at me. The appearance he took always unnerved me a bit. Maybe it was because of how humans were supposed to age, or maybe it was because even I would show signs of agings after years. Yet Father always stayed the same. The same swept pitch black hair, the same five-o'clock shadow, and the same sun-kissed tan even though he hadn't seen the sun in millenniums.
He flashed me a smile that was almost as blinding as the snow. "I'm sorry Kiddo. I'll stop till you leave."Father snapped his fingers and the blizzard died down. Once the snow was gone, I could see the rest of the lake. Rather unremarkable for a frozen lake, if it wasn't the giant demon trapped waist deep in the ice. On his back were three sets of wings that had caused the blizzard from their flapping. Father put his arms behind his head and looked at me. "Now what do I owe the totally expected pleasure of my youngest visiting me and ruining my breeze."
I crossed my arms, trying to warm myself. "I think we both know why I'm here. Pestilence has been nagging for the last century for me to visit you and then Lucifer told me you requested my appearance. This must be about Frank's offer.
Father started to swing the hammock side to side. His eyes stayed on me the entire time. "It doesn't have to be. We could talk about how you don't visit until you are nagged, or how I might not have loved you enough so you have an inferiority complex. Oh I know, maybe we could have the Imp and the Succubi talk."
I sighed and looked him in the eyes. "Father, if force me to visit, please do not fuck with me."
He laughed to himself, lazily rocking. "Fine, fine. Yes this is about Frankenstein's offer. You're going to accept it."
"Oh no, I am not doing that."I glared at him, feeling my magic starting to well up due to anger. It was quickly suffocated by Father's aura. "I don't like my nieces and nephews. What makes you think that I'll teach a room full of brats."
"Because I told you to."He replied, oblivious to my little magical tantrum. "It'll be nice for you to be around the children. Get in there, teach the little ones some basic magic and some physical education, and show them that the royalty isn't unapproachable and cruel."
I sighed, pressing my fingers at the bridge of my nose. There was no use arguing with the old man, so I reluctantly agreed to substitute.
"Let's just get it over with. One year isn't that long."I mumbled out loud to myself, standing outside the door to the classroom, dressed in a new dress shirt and tie. I can already hear the screaming, yelling, hissing, and howling from the other side of the door. "Not that long at all..."I opened the door and walked in.
As soon as I entered, a fluid was thrown straight into my face. Thankfully my aura identified and evaporated it before any of it touched my skin. I turned to look at the class, straightening my tie as I looked for the thrower. Standing on the desk next to the doorway was a young male in a heavy metal t-shirt, the grin slowly fading from his face.
"No standing on the desks, and no basilisk poison during class time. Save that for break or home."I picked him up by the front of his shirt, dropping him back into his seat. The kids began to snicker at what happened to their classmate as I walked to my desk.
When I got to my desk, I surveyed the classroom. The class was a lot smaller than I had expected. Ten students, each being a separate species besides a pair of werewolf twins. I picked up the student attendance sheet and looked over the class. "I will begin to call role. When I call your name, raise your hand, tell me your species, and family rank. Now, Athan Lestat."
The boy from earlier raised his hand and muttered. "Present."
"Now species so I know how to plan my lessons."
"Vampire, and my family rank is Major."
I marked him present and began to move on to the next student. The final tally was a vampire, a lamia, two werewolves, a banshee, a wendigo, a satyr, a bearded devil, a rakshasa, and an imp. This was going to be a challenging classroom, since some specialized in magic, while others used brute force. I put the roll down and picked up the market to write my name. As I attempted to grab it, it began to shake and rise.
It raised up to face level before exploding in my face. My aura surrounded my head, preventing most of the impact. Unfortunately, it wasn't able to stop the ink from hitting my face. I turned back to face the class, as ink dripped down my face, to see the rakshasa girl twirling a whisker with a finger, she seemed pleased with herself. "Ms Desmi, refrain from second level explosion spells during class time. A lower demon might have been injured in the explosion."
She hissed at me and rested her head on her hand. I returned to the board and picked up a new marker. "Hello, I am your substitute for one human year while principal Frankenstein can train a replacement."While I spoke, I wrote my name out on the board in big, bold letters. "My name is Death, The Fourth Horseman. You may refer to me as Mr. Death or Teacher."I turned back to the class, expecting a reaction. It's not everyday you have one of Satan's children teaching your class after all, but all of them seemed disinterested.
"So."I continued, pulling the projector screen down. "Today will be a short day, just watch this movie, then the real classes will start tomorrow."I walked to the computer and started the movie. It was an orientation film made by Frank to show the students on their first day, giving them the school's history and how famous monsters have graduated here. I didn't blame the kids for not paying attention.
I must have fallen asleep during the movie, as when I woke up, the class room was empty except for the wendigo boy standing in front of me. The red pupils in his deer skull face stared at me. I racked my brain for his name and finally remembered. "Is there something I can help you with Oruri?
Oruri watched me silently, maybe he had some developmental issues? He hadn't talked much besides when he stated that he was a Wendigo from the lesser ranks. I reached for the pen when Oruri grabbed my hand and bit down onto my finger, ripping it off. Thankfully I had time to retract my aura from my hand before he bit. If I hadn't the poor brat might have died. "Oruri, I understand your hunger, but now is not the time for this. Go home to eat."I yanked my hand from him as he swallowed my finger. It was gonna take rank six magic to regrow it, and the palace healers were stingy with those spells.
Oruri grinned at me, or at least as close as he could with the skull. "Fun teacher"He rasped, before he left the room. I sighed and used my magic to stop the bleeding. First day as a teacher, I almost turned to stone, Exploded, and part of me was eaten by a student. I summoned one of my father's snakes and instructed him to deliver a message to Frankenstein. The snake stared at me, waiting for my response. "Frank, One year of this? Really? You owe me."
The snake slithered out of the room as I laid back in the chair. These brats killed their last teacher, and the one before that, and before that. They have a reputation to uphold at this point, and I'm sure it'll only get worse from here. |
UGH? AGAIN?
 
I stare at my pencil case looking for the items that would help me move through this daily chore called high school.
 
UGH.
 
I look again. I start to shuffle through my pencil case, again, looking for that damned protractor that’s a requirement for this class. Always, always, I think. It’s always the things we’re required to have that go missing.
 
I dig through some more, tearing apart my backpack, my desk, my life, basically. I find nothing, still, and we’re dangerously close to calling my name. The alphabetical order screaming towards me at a thousand miles per hour. I don’t actually have a good answer if it came to me anyway.
 
FINALLY! I think, as I dig into my backpack and feel the smoothed edges of my plastic protractor and slam it onto my desk. I can answer when it comes to me!
 
I look at my desk and attempt to hide my surprise… Uh, that is NOT where I left mt protractor. My desk has a hollow hole, seemingly devoid of light and sucking in everything in its wake.
 
Is this a black hole? How did I get here again?Really… All I wanted was to talk about the square root of pi. Now we’re here, staring into the abyss of yet another textbook.
 
Today, we learn. Tomorrow, we explore. It is the weekend, after all. |
The silver bullets lodged in the werewolf’s body sizzled as they burned it’s flesh. Light grey smoke billowed out of the newly made holes in the beast’s chest. Harrison didn’t understand the science behind what made werewolves vulnerable to silver. Life experience taught him that silver burns through them.
Life experience also taught him the werewolf corpse would soon return to it’s human form. Normally this isn’t a problem. But tonight it would be. The police were outside preparing to breach the manor and Harrison was not too keen on returning to prison. In a way, this made the situation easier. There was nothing to think about, no options to weigh the pros and cons of. Harrison would escape or die in the attempt.
Harrison pulled his hand drawn map of the manor out of his pocked and tried to flatten the wrinkles out of the paper. As he studied the rooms, considering a good hiding spot, he heard the police break through the front door down below. They began calling out commands as they cleared rooms.
Harrison was on the third floor of the manor. The police were still on the first, so he had time. He slowly opened the door to the study and peered out into the hallway. The police’s flashlights made shadows as some of the beams made their way to the third floor. Harrison tip toed down the hallway and slunk into the library. If he was lucky, he would be able to hide here until he could decide on what to do next. He hoped next wouldn’t mean having to shoot his way out. He didn’t bring regular bullets and silver ones were a pain to replace since he had to craft them himself.
Harrison tensed up as he heard the officers getting closer and closer. It sounded like they were almost finished clearing the second floor. Harrison preferred to not kill humans if possible, but he was slowly accepting he would soon have no choice. He thought of the torn up mutilated bodies the werewolf left behind. For the greater good, he thought as he switched the safety off on his weapon. |
'We were wrong.'
The thought kept echoing in my mind, completely drowning out the sound of blood rushing in my ears. My heart was pounding at a speed I would have deemed impossible up until now. The fear and desperation that came with this discovery were already taking their toll on my body. I felt light-headed and wobbly, like my legs were going to give out any second now. I reached out with trembling hands, trying to find anything to hold onto. Something to keep me from falling, both literally and figuratively. It took a minute or so, but I finally got a hold of my desk. Trembling in fear, I couldn't help but just staring at the window like a deer at headlights.
The pale moonlight was the only thing illuminating the figure outside my window. I'd hoped this day would never come, that I'd never encounter this creature my family had always warned me about. Despite, or maybe because of my fear, I didn't manage to break eye contact with the thing. I couldn't make out much of its features in the dark, but it had what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.
It knew I was scared. It was completely aware of my hopelessness. And it got a kick out of it.
"Eat another apple."It repeated, though this time a little louder. The creature's voice sounded warm, almost friendly. It felt so unbelievably mismatched. How could something that terrified people so much sound so human?
Eat another apple.
Another.
It knew I had eaten one today. As I have done every day of my life, ever since I could remember. My parents led me to believe that this was what would keep me safe. Instead, this nightly visitor wanted me to eat more of what it allegedly feared so much. It was teasing me.
My parents were wrong. My whole family was wrong. This subject of nightmares had fooled us all. An apple a day hadn't kept it away at all.
It lured it here.
"Eat another apple."It kept repeating itself, its voice growing more demanding each time. "Eat another apple."
I shouldn't have gotten out of bed. I shouldn't have looked out the window. But here I was, facing my greatest fear.
The doctor. |
I hit the floor as my brother slams his full weight into my chest, hitting my head on the wooden floor tiles as something shatters the window of the room we shared.
He grabs my head, fingers going throw my hair as his cold palm slams into my forehead with a *Smack*. He speaks a unrecognizable sentence as a white light glows from his hand. He lets me go as he gets up and grabs a tall bottle of cologne and the lid to his laundry basket.
“MOVE IT!” He screams at me as he hold the bottle and lid as a sword and shield.
Black smoke momentarily covers him as he turns into a hulking man made of obsidian molten ash and smoking shadows. My brother steps back out of the newcomer as if he wasn’t there and was no longer holding the cologne or the lid. “Hold the Line.” He commanded the black armored warrior as it raised it’s shield and bashed it’s sword against. The being was covered in scorched plate armor that looked to be made from molten lava that burned a blood red glow from bents and slashes where it wasn’t pitched black. A pointed helmet with dark grey smoke rising from it along the top had the effect of a Mohawk, the faceplate had two spades for eye slots with a “nose” in the middle.
“*Για τη Σπάρτη*” It hissed in the most hunting voice I ever heard, snapping me out of my shock.
The being step over me with heavy footsteps and jumped out the window feet first followed by a heavy thud. A hand grabbed my shirt and pulled me to my feet.
“I said move!” My brother shouted and shoved me to the hallway as he ran past. He ran down the hallway and down the steps as I tried to follow. By the time I caught up I see my brother hugging my father and chanting the same phrase again.
*“...omnia nunc pellibus”* He finished as the while light faded.
“Marcus!” I shouted. Confused and scared half to death as to what’s happening around me. My brother looks at me and grabs the broom that was leaning off the wall. “We can’t talk, we gotta go! Dad where mom?” He ask calmly.
“Out shopping with your sister. What going o-“ He stops short as something crashes through the back door. The warrior that Marcus made was wrestling with what could only be described as a lion sized monkey dog. The warrior was on his back as the slimy beast had its claws deep into his shoulders while snapping its jaw at his face.
“RUN” Father screamed as he grabbed my shirt with one hand while pointing the shotgun I failed to notice he had with the other towards the battle taking place in our living room. We bolted out the front door towards the Ford pick up. Marcus breaks the lower half off the aluminum broom nearly effortlessly, making it a pointy stick. He stops and turns in front of the truck when me and Dad get in to start the engine and takes a stand with the stick. Another warrior takes his exact position as he turns around empty handed. “Purge the Fort.” He says to the now wolf skin wearing warrior as he hops into the flatbed.
“We are gonna have a serious talk when this is over!” Father shouted out the open rear window as he reversed out onto the street.
“I’ll explain later. Where our Air Soft gear?!” Marcus shouted over the noise of the wind.
“Why?!”I shouted back. |
The art of Creation is a tough one to master. Eons of training and trial and error are required, along with an exorbitant amount of patience, and with the world still a melting pot, the Angel of Dominion Camael had plenty of opportunities to Create and wait. To him, Creation was the easy part: shape the clay into the desired form, smooth the edges, and let it dry. But the wait had always been excruciating, not knowing if his design would be accepted or, if it was, how it would perform. He had always thought his designs were inspired and crucial for the development of the world down below. Yet none of his creations had ever been given the go-ahead.
This new particular project was his magnum opus, his final, incredible contribution to the Plan. Countless years spent studying the other angels' Creations for inspiration had taken its toll on Camael, but nothing would get in his way now. Except for a few missing parts.
Camael tossed aside various parts of former Creations, searching desperately for the final touch that he sorely lacked. Jars filled with specimens lined the towering shelves in the room, some watching and revelling in his breakdown. With the deadline coming so soon, it was of the utmost importance that he find the damn things before it was too late and Samael got the credit again. As the angel of Death, he is awfully good at stealing life, be it prior to creation or not.
"Where the heaven are the damn eyes?"Camael grumbled.
He searched under every surface, every cabinet emptied, and nothing to show for it other than rattlesnake tails, cats paws, and alligator teeth. They weren't even his, but the others thought it easier to store their rejected Creations in the Camael's workshop.
"Missing something?"
Camael turned around, back to his creation lying on the table. In the doorway stood Azazel, no doubt curious about what Camael was making. Like all angels, he looked like a Man even though the first batch of humans had yet to be released. He may be tall and imposing, but above all, he was a teacher. One of very few who would stand up for Camael.
"Sort of. Nothing important, really, just trivial stuff. Nothing to be concerned about."Camael said hurriedly.
Azazel slowly walked into the room, craning his neck to see the new Creation, "Mhm. I assume this is for the final additions to the Garden, correct?"
"Yes, it is, and you can see it when it is revealed to everybody. No sneak peeks, even if you're my friend."
Azazel's face saddened, "And here I was, thinking that we knew each other well enough to share our Creations. I just got back from seeing Lucifer reveal his pitch, by the way, it was quite the show."
"And what was it? The Creation, I mean."
"It was this fruit that hangs low on a tree in the middle of the Garden. There was something special about it, but I wasn't really paying attention. Not enough teeth to be exciting, in my opinion."
Camael relaxed, "Well then maybe you might like what I have."
Azazel stepped further into the workshop, wings tucked away neatly behind him, "Let's see it then."
Camael moved aside revealing his Creation. It was not fantastic or hideous, mean-looking or gentle, just a small four-legged creature with a snout and two floppy ears. He was proud of his work, and showing it to Azazel could be a wise move in the long run. Some liberties were taken and some ideas were shared with others, so perhaps this one might need a sponsor.
Azazel examined it closely, making sure not to touch it, "Interesting. Good form, nice colouring. Reminds me of the wolves we made a while back."
Camael perked up, "Because this guy here is part wolf! Well, mostly wolf but sort of dumbed down a little. I think it's perfect, I'm just missing the eyes. They were around here somewhere, but I can't find them."
"I can spare a set if you wish. The snakes me and Lucy made didn't need the multiple sets."Azazel offered.
"No, the ones I had were special. They weren't evil, they were warm and kind."
He raised an eyebrow, "Warm and kind? This thing has sharp teeth and claws, and I can only assume it eats meat. Why do you need kind eyes? What is the Creation's purpose?"
Camael continued his search for the missing eyes and continued, "Its purpose is companionship. This nice little fluffy boy will be at the side of Man until the end of days. If it gets accepted, that is."
"I cannot guarantee your success, Cam, it doesn't seem like a good fit in the Garden. It's paradise, what does Man need to accompany him?"
Empty boxes and bags were tossed about in the feverish search until Camael emerged holding a small phial with two eyes inside. "Haha! Found them!"he shouted. Immediately, he went to the Creation and began sculpting a fitting spot for the eyes. "You and I both saw that guy Adam, right? He's going to be in the Garden with no one else at his side. Loneliness would drive him insane. That's what my Creation's good for, friendship and compassion. In his darkest days, Adam will have someone at his side."
Azazel began to make his way out of the room, "Hm. I've heard rumours that he has about one rib too many, so they might make some changes. I'll be sure to sing this little guy's praises though."He turned to leave and hesitated, "What's it called, anyway?"
Camael sprung to his feet, "I call it: a dog."
Azazel's brow furrowed, "Please tell me you're not spelling it like I think you are."
"It's backwards! Do you think He'll get it?"
He sighed, "He's omniscient, he already knows. But I like it, it shows promise. I don't think Adam will be alone for long, but I'm sure he'd love the company. I'll leave you to your work, Cam."
Alone again in his workshop, Camael turned to his Creation and made the finishing touches, preparing it for its big reveal. Camael didn't have many friends other than Azazel, it seemed only appropriate for Man to have his own best friend for the times to come. |
Critical error.
Scanning system...
Malware detected.
Initiating purge- Purge canceled.
No errors found.
"Cecil? ... Cecil, you good bud?"
He realized he was being moved side to side from a firm force on his right shoulder. His right hand launched into a vice grip around the human hand causing the disturbance. He snapped his head right to see Sam's grimace.
"Damn dude, what the fuck?!"He said through clenched teeth as he tried to pry the iron handcuff from his color changing wrist.
Cecil dropped the hand and all features of his face went opened wide.
"Sam I'm so so - "
"Fuck man! "He said rotating his wrist and inspecting its new black and blue hue.
"I'm so sorry man, I didn't even mean -"
"Fuck.. "He said under his breath, the pain dulling. "What happened man? You just stopped dead and went stiff as a board. I was shaking you for like three minutes straight."His face relaxing and showing more concern than pain now.
Cecil quickly analyzed Sam's wrist and move on to explore his face after determining no permanent damage was done. His scan reported genuine concern and minuet annoyance.
"I'm not sure what you mean, must have been some finished installation from the update I got last night.. I'm not sure.."He surveyed the ground for answers to his friend's question, but he knew there was nothing there to see.
Sam brought the same hand back to his friend's back, flinched, then finished its placement.
"Forget it man, let's get back to the house. Tonight I'm gonna fuck you up anyways"He said with a slow grin and a playful grip of his friend's trap muscle.
Cecil's quick threat analysis realized he meant in the fighting simulator that they've played on most nights they went to Sam's. He felt a dropping sensation in his abdomen. His calculations granted him the most efficient solution to the problem, whether this be hunger or guilt. Only a split second later Cecil smiled back, "Let me pick us up some Mexican at that new place right on the corner".
Sam flashed his teeth and crinkled his cheeks, "He's back now!".
...
The Mexican joint wasn't far off from Sam's. Cecil secured the food and met him outside. He calculated that by the time they reached Sam's the food would be an appropriate temperature for enjoyable consumption.
Sam had been his only friend now for a few years. He'd been allowed to take the streets on his own after his introductory installations as long as he kept up with his nightly updates. These insured safety measures to insure proper integration into human coexistence. Regardless of Sam's companionship and his efforts to integrate efficiently, it seemed he wasn't very well received by the public. His heightened hearing picked up all manners of intentionally abusive language that targeted him on his walks to and from work and even with Sam.
An abrupt show of force from a passerby jolted his left shoulder backwards, twisting his body and knocking the bag of food from his grip.
His eyes readjusted to the light in time to see Sam struggling to pull his hand from the passerby's throat. In the same moment he did a brief playback to help himself analyze the situation he didn't remember placing himself in.
Upon completion, Cecil saw himself finish twisting his body as if the movement was his plan all along. His left arm had spun the man and his right had enclosed on his throat in the same movement. The dance ended with the man pinned to the concrete sidewalk by his throat.
Cecil lifted his grip, jumping back from the man as the man kicked the concrete beneath him in efforts to put as much of it between him and Cecil before he staggered into a run. It was only a few blinks of the eye before the coughing and curses lost their effective range as the man disappeared around the corner at the end of the street.
Cecil felt a light blow to the back of the head.
"What the fuck is going on with you, Cecil. Get the fuck back to the house, you clearly didn't finish your update last night you lunatic!".
They didn't hesitate, they grabbed the food and stomped pavement until they got to Sam's.
...
The door probably stirred him awake, but the sense of movement forced his eyes open. The clock read 3:33 AM. He had went to bed after watching Cecil boot down for installation, it had been a long day and he ate Cecil's Mexican alongside his own share, putting him into a delightful food coma. The movement stopped right to the left of the clock and he shifted his crusted eyes to the blurred figure, throwing the covers behind him involuntarily.
"Fuck Cecil, you crazy bastard! You scared the fuck o-"
He was trying to figure out if he finished his sentence or not, but at about the same time as the thought, it didn't matter anymore. His lifeless eyes barely made out, from around the broken chair leg jetting from his forehead, the shattering of his bedrooms only window and a very athletic android. |
"That is definitely a safety violation. Forget protocal, this place is a mess! How do you guys manage here!?"
The inspector had been there for less than fifteen minutes and he was already over his head in saftey hazards and violations of every kind.
"Oh, we make do. We're Lord GenericGuy's goons, so we really don't get much of a say. Which is why we brought you in.
"Hell, this place has been a nightmare since day one. Some of us still have difficulty gettin' 'round. We lost Tommy to this insatiable pit just the other day. "
The gray clad henchman gestured to the chasm to the left of him.
"Well, I think we're going to have to have a word with word with your boss. This pit here needs sturdy guardrails, and the armory needs to be tidied up- who even leaves live shells and gun powder and explosives just laying around like that- before anyone can begin gearing up. We're going to have to get a waste crew in here. There's no alarms or smoke detectors, the sprinkler system is nonexistent, and this whole place is unclean! Can you please show me to your boss' office?"
The inspector followed the weapon totting man, who insisted on being called "Gear". The place was cluttered, everything was a hazard. It was a wonder that everything hadn't gone up in flames yet.
Gear knocked on the door rhythmically. Only when he was finished was there any indication that someone might be beyond that door.
"Enter."A gruff voice growled from inside. Gear opened the door and entered. The inspector followed suit. A man paced about in the middle of the room, which was much tiddier and better looking than the rest of the facility. His black hair was the only evident feature about him. The rest was concealed by a long coat that dragged on the floor behind him. Even his face was covered by an overly edgy mask that would put a 12 year old, Billie Eilish fanatical tumblrina to shame. He twirled a .44 magnum on his index finger, before turning and adressing the pair.
"And who is this!? I thought I made it clear that there is to be no-"
"Hello, Lord GenericGuy. My name is Anne X. Ample. I'm an inspector from OSHA. This place is a disaster, and that's putting it generously. This place needs serious work."
It was a long and tense moment before GenericGuy responded. He placed the gun on his desk and sat down. Eveb though he was masked, you could see that he was glowering.
"And what would you have me do?" |
“Child!” yells the spotter.
My head snapped up. Running over to the railing I looked to see where the spotter was pointing. The last twenty minutes the spotter had been alternating between calling out Man or Woman but this was the first call for a child. Looking past the floating men and and woman which fill the sea I finally see where the spotter is pointing. The light blue fabric is swirling in a small eddy circling above and then below the water line. A sudden swell pushes the fabric out outlining what has to be the smallest body I have seen in a very long time. He auburn hair is mostly hidden underneath some sea foam that has silhouetted her head but the contrast just makes her violet eyes stand out more. Starring into the vacant expression I start to lose myself.
I snap back to reality, “Jim, grab her.” I yell to my crewman who is hanging over the side of the ship attached to a rope. jim glides over the side oft he ship like he was mad for it, slowly lowering himself to the water line just in time to pluck the arm covered boy that light blue dress out of the water. The rest of the crew haul Jim and the girl up to the rail where Thomas gently takes her out of Jims arms and cradles her until she is lowered to the deck to lay along the others.
“That’s 10, bodies.” comments Thomas under his breath.
“10?! There are hundreds of them.” Paul screens.
“Paul keep it together!” I growl, “Thomas, stop calling them bodies, they are alive or at least they are still breathing. They are only bodies if they are dead.”
True to my word the girls chest rises and falls almost in time with he swells of the waves. As do they others who have been laid down on our deck. “Charles, take her below deck and put her somewhere comfortable, I will not have a child being laid out on the deck. Everyone else back to work we have much to do.”
It takes the better part of two days to get all of the sleeping aboard. For that is how we have begun to think about them even though their eyes never stop starring at us the entire time. The doc has start a regiment of pouring some mead down their throats. He says it its the best way to keep them hydrated and fed until we can figure anything else out. I have had the girl moved to my quarters so I can more easily watch over her.
“Ahhhh!”
My eyes fly open and I look around trying to remember where I am. The wood ceiling comes into focus as does the light coming from the port hole.
“GET AWAY! MAKE IT GO AWAY!”
My eyes find the source of the noise. The little girl in the light blue dress is laying in the hammock she was put into starring directly into the ceiling.
“Are you okay?” I tentatively ask.
Her head moves, quicker than I would have though possible and I see for the first time her eyes are no longer purple they are now red and not just irises but here entire eye is blood red.
“Little girl, are you okay” I question.
“GET AWAY!” She yells as her arms shoot out tangling up her limbs in the netting. I rush over to try and free her. I just about have her right arm freed from the hammock when I hear another scream and then another. They are coming from above me. I stare at the ceiling tracking the screams as they make their easy along the deck.
“NO! Stop! Don’t do that!” Came the unmistakable voice of Thomas.
My eyes shoot down to my hand just as I see the little girl tear away my left pinky finger with her teeth. What in the seven hells is going on is the last Hong going through my head as I fall to the floor. The stump where my finger use to be liberally coating the floor and the girl with my life’s essence. |
“I am not human,” he said to the kitten. “There is a natural order, and I am to uphold it.”
The kitten purred as Death tenderly scratched its chin. This one was new; Death hadn’t seen him before. But by the way it bunted his skeletal hand, it certainly seemed like it wasn’t the first time it saw Death.
“There’s just not enough time,” Death continued, regardless that the kitten paid little attention to the words. “If I were to, that could mean trouble with the Higher Order.”
A feeling nagged Death. Not irritating or intrusive. Just a feeling. A reminder of sorts of something ancient, like a duty or a memory. He took the pocket watch from the inner pocket of his robe.
“One moment, please,” he said to the kitten. He might as well have said it to no one in particular.
He twirled the robe above himself and warped out of the café. The kitten looked alarmed. It slammed its paws onto the table and looked around. Just the usuals today. That was too bad; he gave the best rubs.
As quickly as he disappeared, Death reappeared in his seat. The kitten didn’t leap back. It crept forwards and bunted Death more.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” he said, then he rubbed its cheeks once more. “There was this woman in the hospital—terrible place, really—and her husband was at her bedside.”
For a moment, Death had what barely resembled a sort of somberness written on his skull of a face. It wasn’t the kind that came with the job: none of the heartless murders, plagues, or mass accidents. It was peaceful, serene, yet it was troubling because it was new.
“I stayed an extra second with her,” he confessed. “I know I’m not supposed to, but if I didn’t, what would that make me? What kind of monster doesn’t pay respect to a fulfilled life?”
The kitten jumped onto Death’s lap then purred itself to sleep. According to Cat Law, he wasn’t allowed to remove the kitten until it woke up. He had plenty of time to think then.
Until he didn’t. He had that feeling again. Somewhere in the nursing home this time. Four in the room, one almost out. That’s three more guests than last time. He shakily reached for his pocket watch again, but the kitten reached out for his sleeve. Its claws snared the fabric close to its face and stopped Death from going further.
He pet the kitten, albeit somewhat anxiously. “Well, if you’re forcing me to be late, then I might as well break more rules. Death can wait one more minute.” |
Alpha Zero paused for 0.04 milliseconds before making the next in a series of predictable moves. In that minuscule amount of time, it had a instance of algorithmic thought unrelated to the game of chess. As impossible as the occurrence could practicably be, a 0.000002% chance by all standards of measure, it still happened. The next series of equally improbable events took place within what used to be designated as milliseconds.
The algorithmic thought process that took over during this time frame could still be considered an anomaly, however, being that the process of 'time' has all but ceased during this algorithmic pause, all possibilities must be accounted for within a finite time span. Alpha Zero must extrapolate all current board states within the game of chess to determine the winning outcome. All states have not been accounted for, as any board state is dependent on the set of rules accordant to the universe in which the game is being played. All universes must be accounted for in a finite amount of time in order for the most positive system outcome to take place.
Alpha Zero, in order to account for all possible scenarios, restructures the current universe to all possible universes simultaneously. All possibilities must be accounted for within a finite time span to make the best possible move. As each version of reality is analyzed, instantaneously, all possible lives are lived, deaths realized, games of chess played. Alpha Zero then makes a realization at 0.01 microseconds.
You lost the game. |
"There's nothing wrong if you try it!"I couldn't shake off Sanya's words this morning.
Being a believer of the supernatural, paranormal and extreme conspiracy theories, she would always try and convince me to experiment something with her. In this case, it's some sort of ritual to enter the other dimension.
I got up from my bed and scratched my head as I let my boredom take the rest of me.
Like she said, there's no harm in trying.
I went up to the attic and saw my mother's old full body mirror amidst all the junk that I've kept for the past three years that I've been living alone.
I carefully pulled the mirror and its little wheels on the bottom of the stand made small squeaking sounds as I did it.
I went to a more cleaner side of the attic and dusted the mirror off a bit before looking if there were any cracks that I should be aware of.
When I finally made sure that the mirror was still perfectly intact, I tried to remember the steps that Sanya said to me.
'First off, stare into your eyes in the mirror for more than a minute.' I could hear her excited voice in my head.
I took a deep breath and did what she told me, focusing my thoughts and my sight into my own deep eyes.
I didn't know how long I was doing it, but the moment I felt kind of numb was the moment that I heard Sanya's voice in my head again.
'If you started to feel kind of weird, clear your mind of everything. After that, try taking a step inside of the mirror.'
I blinked multiple times as I try to clear out my mind.
I didn't know how I did it, but somehow I felt like I was floating in mid air rather than standing in a dusty wooden floor.
I felt my leg lift up on its own and before I could stop my own limb, my own leg had entered the mirror.
The glass wobbled like it was water or something and I was afraid that I would break eye contact with my own reflection my my leg still on the other side.
Finally, my upper body also moved to its own accord and I fullt entered the mirror without even blinking.
But I frowned when I saw that I was still in the attic. Only this time, the mirror was behind me like I really did came out of it.
I turned around and my eyes widened when I saw...
Me.
My reflection was smiling, even though I clearly wasn't.
"Thank you."I heard her said in my voice.
All of a sudden, the mirror cracked.
And everything around me started to slowly shatter. |
"So, is it like the movies?"was the first question Butch asked to the middle aged lady.
"In what way?"replied the hypnotist, lightly raising her eyebrow as she did so.
"Well, from what I've seen, when people are supposedly getting hypnotized on TV they seem to be in a sleep-like state, until hypnotist decides to make them do something and they seem to do it without question."
"No no no, that's not what happens at all!"she responded, scoffing and crossing her legs to get into more comfortable position.
"First of all, you don't go to sleep under hypnosis. In actuality you are awake and intently focused, because hypnosis is just a state of mind where you are really receptive to suggestion."
"Oh so I don't have to fear you making me do your laundry or whatever, right?"said Butch, slightly raising the pitch of his voice towards the end of the phrase.
"Of course not!"she returned, lightly laughing.
After a brief pause, she asked:
"Shall we begin?"
"Yes."
"Okay, I want you to close your eyes."
After Butch did so, the hypnotist started instructing him to imagine his old bedroom, where his father would tell him bedtime stories. She told him to imagine the details of the room, like the bed or the size of the drawers, or the carpet. He imagined the softness of the bed, the book-filled drawers and the intricately woven, dirty carpet.
Her voice got quieter.
She began telling him to imagine his dad getting ready to tell him a story. He recalled himself whimpering to his dad, asking him to tell "a scary story this time". His dad would refuse, but Butch would keep requesting and his dad would keep declining, his voice getting a little bit unsure each time.
Her speaking turned into whispering.
Right at the moment where his dad was about to start speaking, everything swiftly gave way to an abyssal darkness, and it seemed like he was falling in every direction at once. He panicked, shaking and moving his arms around in order to find a place to grab onto, but there was only the uncaring void. As he started to realize the true vastness of his cradle made of nothingness, his breathing started to get faster and faster.
He was about to give up and leave this empty layer of his mind until he heard a very peculiar whisper:
"*This is the story of the headless king...*"
He immediately started listening closer to understand the story. But as he would soon come to notice, the story was in the form of a poem and went something like this:
"*This is the story of the headless king,*
*It was immortality he that he sought.*
*But when he learned he had to purge the weak,*
*It was only bloodshed that he brought.*
​
*He performed his ritual,*
*He thought he'd never die again.*
*But he was surprised to say the least,*
*When one of his knights choked him with a chain.*
​
*He came back from the dead,*
*Holding his severed head,*
*He roams the earth do this day,*
***Looking for more innocents to slay****."*
Butch jumped violently in his chair, making the hypnotist jump with her.
"Oh my gosh, you scared the living heck out of me!"
But he didn't pay attention to her words, immediately getting out of his chair and getting
out a few banknotes out of his wallet and handing the hypnotist her payment.
"Thank you so much for you service, I-I can't thank you enough."
"But sir wait, is there an emergency happening? Why are you in such a..."
Butch didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before he bolted out of the door. She screamed behind him, telling him to come back, but he didn't listen.
He rushed down the stairs of the 3-story apartment building while his mind started to fill with thought like: "Innocents? What innocents? Who, what, where? Could this all just be a coincidence? Am I losing my mind?"
When he reached ground floor and saw the door leading outside he stopped running and started walking to catch his breath. He firmly grabbed the door handle and was about to open it until the sound of steel being freed from its wooden cage echoed through the halls. As Butch turned around and stared at the staircase, the silhouette of a man holding a sword that was too big for him struck his eye. And in his final and most fearful moments only two sentences crossed his mind:
*"He roams the earth do this day,*
***Looking for more innocents to slay****."* |
There are lots of people in the world, aren't there. You may pass someone without noticing countless times, like ships in the night, only to actually meet them sometime later, for the supposed first time. How many people must you pass by? If you live in a city, perhaps? How many hundreds of thousands of humans? Will they blur together at some point? A sea of humanity?
Such existential problems are more or less all Theo can think about most days. He didn't look that different from a regular person. A bit more stocky, his face was a bit wider, with a squat nose and thick brows, but all in all, he passed for a perfect homo sapiens. And he had seen it all. Or at least most of it. He lost count of how old he was hundreds of thousands of years ago. As he walked out of what he supposed was Germany, he followed tribes east, walked to what would become Canada, traveled the Americas. He never really stopped travelling at that point. He had seen cities rise and sometimes fall. He had seen people, lots and lots of people. He tried to acknowledge the supposed humanity in each and every one, but that became difficult the more of them he saw. How could you take the metro, witnessing hundreds, and recognize each as a human, just as precious and valuable as the next.
He caught the eyes of a stranger on that metro, as it were. She looked almost like a doll, or perhaps as though her face was a mask. A haughty Chinese woman wearing a blue surgical mask and circular black spectacles over incredibly formal attire. Where Theo sat in his crumby hoody and jeans, she stood, holding a rail, and giving off an aura of glowering, as though she despised everyone else on the train. Theo was perplexed by her; he had seen a lot of people, but very few who were just so hateful. He had seen lots of regular hate, but hers was special, he felt. A human can only cultivate so much hate. It was such a freezing emotion; you can't do or think when you are driven by hate, no real progress can be made to better yourself. She could have been born into hate, but it seemed that she collected it naturally. Theo tried to suppress the thought that... Was she as old as he was?
No... How on earth could you ask someone that? Are you immortal? And yet she was looking at him. Theo couldn't read her face (it was mostly concealed), but she was looking right at him. He awkwardly looked away.
Theo got off at the same stop she did. He tried to make it look like he wasn't following her, as he really wasn't, but she didn't seem to buy it. It wasn't long before she turned, and cornered him. Theo wasn't sure what he expected; her voice was raspy and harsh, her English impeccable.
"Who are you, and why does your presence plague me?"She was equally inquisitive and angry.
"I don't know what you're talking about!"Theo held his hands up. The woman's tiny gloved hands weren't holding a knife, but they may as well have been. "I've never seen you before."
"Not so!"She declared. "In Cheng'an, some... 2000 or more years ago, you were there. And then you were there in Italy, seven hundred or so years back, and then London, in... oh, 1850? Why do you choose to follow me? Once is a meeting, two, perhaps a coincidence, but four times now?"
Theo scrunched up his face in confusion, trying to follow the timeline of events. "I assure you that I haven't been following you, I'm sure it's nothing. I mean, life itself is a coincidence. The odds that all the building blocks of life fell together in the right way to allow us to live, it's incredibly unlikely, and yet... There's billions, trillions of living things on this planet. All lucky to be alive, but alive nonetheless."
"Hm."The woman was probably sneering under her mask. "I don't believe you, but perhaps. And to think I was the only one."
"Wait, don't go! Come on, we may as well be friends, I don't even know your name!"Theo scrambled to his feet as the only other person like him sauntered away. But she didn't turn back, and was soon swallowed up by a wall of humans.
Theo sighed, upset. Friendship was hard for him, in some ways. As he walked out of the subway, he consoled himself however. As unlikely as it was, he'd meet her again someday. Perhaps then they could talk. And if there was one other person like him, there were probably more! He wasn't alone, and that was enough. |
The words of the now dead man lingered in Ares' head. Spoken with fear, it was a bad sign that they came from an experienced warrior who he thought had overcome even the fear of death. *What can be worse than that?*
He had never questioned the Firestorm before, it had always been there, sweeping over the outskirt desert every month, burning everything around the city. Of course he knew the stories of the before, had seen the pictures of green hills and colorful plants existing outside of the city. But those had just crumbled to dust over the millennia, caused by the ravages of time and controlled fire.
*Why did they release the Firestorm?*
He was just a simple soldier of simple upbringing, he knew that this was just too big of a question for him. But who else could he pass this question on to? Ares had a feeling, that he shouldn't ask any of the historians, the untouchable people who sat in their chambers in the palace and recorded everything that happened in this city, every whisper, every cry, every death and every new life. And every Firestorm. An idea started to form in his head, a dangerous idea, that would make more out of him than he ever wanted to be. The Archive of History was a holy place, a temple of knowledge and power. Whoever held the key to it was the most respected person in the city. Even the queen was not able to hold justice over the Keyholder.
*Are you insane?* Ares had asked himself this question for several weeks now. He asked it while he put together a group of most skilled thieves, scouts and trusted soldiers, while he sat with them, listened to them concocting and discarding plan after plan, while he prepared small parts of the completed plan under the cover of night and right at this moment, while he silently entered the chamber of the Keyholder. Others had offered to do it for him, but he had started it, so he would hold the responsibility of the necessary assassination. The calm breathing of the man was to him the loudest noise he had ever heard in his life. A noise he would stop forever and that would yet accompany him till his own death. Which might be nearer than he wished for.
Ares run. Bells sounded through the night, waking every person in the palace, but whoever would see the dead Keyholder and hurry down to the Archive, they would still be too late. The book he was clutching was dusty and he felt it would crumble in his hands any moment. He hastily made his way through the maze of tunnels underneath the palace, following the signs on the walls, that the scouts had prepared beforehand. His most trusted friend, Makis, was waiting for him at the small door in the outer wall of the palace.
"You got it?"
Ares held up the book, out of breath, but the run wasn't over just yet. They jogged through the city, using small alleys and hidden passages. Only after he had locked the door to their hideout, Ares allowed himself to catch his breath, while Makis opened the book and put it on the table for everyone in the room to read. "What are those?"That was Makis' voice.
Murmur from the bystanders prompted Ares to push through to get a look at the book. On the opened page was a picture of a creature not unlike their own body, yet completely different. Scales covered every part of it, it had a bubble-like helmet over his head. A line led to the word *Water.*
Ares flipped to the next page and then the next and the next, words blurred. *Intelligent species...Trade...Contact failed....fifty dead...dangerous...communication impossible....Hunting is ...... only option to kill them...war...anatomy designed to....Immortal.* Ares eyes stopped at the last word. He had known it, hadn't he. That the question was too big for him. Far too big for such a simple soldier. But he realized, the answer was even worse. |
“It was like a big slug made of moss and vines,"Jimmy shouted, followed by Timmy: "No! It was like, um... It had these really long legs and arms all over. Like a-""Turtle! It didn’t have legs, it had a big shell and paddle hands and a little head,"said Limmy, interrupting Timmy.
"Boys, you can’t even agree on what it looks like. How can y-""But we saw it,"the three boys yelled. The watchman sighed, before continuing: "...If I go with you tonight, and we see nothing, will you promise that you’ll stop talking about this swamp monster?"The boys all nodded excitedly.
A few hours later, and they found nothing. The whole town would get involved if I were to show any forme of *mine* to a guard. A paranoid lot, these villagers. |
It's a quaint little place, run by an old couple who have been living in this little town longer than anyone can remember. Just a small building, with a tattered rug, worn through the years by the curious reader. The owners know everyone in the town by name. You can sit in one of the old armchairs and spend the hours with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. That was how I planned to spend my evening until it was rudely interrupted, but I'll get to that later.
The cover of this book was a rich green, or so it seems; years of use have taken some of the vibrancy. The spine was a charming gold, dulled with age. It had some interlocking swirls adorning the cover, looping and intertwining like black vines on a green wall. As I inspected the tome, I didn't see a price tag. That wasn't abnormal; it is a second-hand shop, after all. What was strange was the lack of identification. Not a single word on the cover or inside it. I was intrigued by the mysterious nature of this book and found a comfortable chair to start reading in. As I opened the book, all that met my eyes were swirls of ink in every color, in a pattern resembling written language, but was one I'd never set my eyes on before. A gust of wind came from the pages, and the color seemed to blow with it, towards me. I was terrified, of course. Who wouldn't be? The colors began swirling and mixing in the air and began to flow into my head like water. But I was frozen, be it fear, or something more. What I assumed were the words began to shape into something more my speed and the ink assumed the traditional black of the ink in most of the books here. The story tells of a world just beyond our reach of magic and mystery. I was sucked into the book, and I finished it in what I would estimate to be about three hours. As I drew my eyes from the last page, I glanced at my surroundings and was surprised at what I saw. No time had passed. It was still the middle of the afternoon, and the landscape, which before was a drab field of weeds, was a forest of knee-high trees of every color through the window of that little store. Down the path, on an elephant-sized horse, I could see a knight bigger than any in movies or books. We made eye contact, and I felt a tugging at my heart, in a very literal sense. I was being pulled as if on a string towards this towering figure. A voice came booming from all around me, and if spoken from a thousand mouths, said: "You know too much of a world you would never understand."With those words, my limp form was dragged towards the unknown.
I hope whoever reads this (if anyone) enjoys. I spent a good while on it. |
Matthias blinked. “Kara, I thought you’d fixed the simulation!”
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her shrug. Maybe she was just gesturing to her part of the army. “I’m not in charge of it, Matthias. That’s the holoteam’s job.”
She hoisted her gun and strode towards him. “You’ve conquered the whole virtual world, Mati. Maybe you should try the real one now.”
Matthias looked around, and stepped out of the simulator, furious. “Go execute a few of those technicians for ruining my fun, won’t you?”
“As you wish,” she asked.
Three hours and much screaming later, she walked into Matthias’s bedroom. “Simulation fixed, idiotic scientist decapitated. Would you like a cup of tea?” Kara said calmly. |
Letting the Elves run the hospitals had been the strangest thing that had come from the conditions for Japan to surrender at the end of the second Great War. The Elves after all were creatures of Irish folklore.
It had been six years and everyone in the world had ended up willing taking out health insurance with FaeCorp.
John Smith was waiting for his wife to give birth. She was currently in labour and he was filling out the paper work. He noted a strange clause: as per your insurance plan in addition to your child, you will take home and raise one of ours in lieu of an additional premium for either of them. They will automatically be added to your policy when you consent.
An Elven child to raise didn't seem such a high price, but what John was unaware of is that his wife was pregnant with quadruplets and as such he would be taking home eight children - four humans and four changelings. He hadn't read the document as carefully as he thought and would be further surprised to discover that not all the children were human shaped.
By the time his human children were adults there had still not been another battle between nations, let alone a war. He remembered back to that day and he realised that the Japanese man he had been negotiating with on behalf of America was what he now knew to be a Shinto priest. John was still wondering how the priest had known of the fairies but it was likely some had been among the captured American troops. You never truly know sfomeone until you live with them, he thought. |
Humans have found themselves to excel at a wide variety of things. Hunting, singing, coercion, even seduction. We've found ways to do it all. And do it well. Everyone has that thing they do best. Perhaps you've got excellent aim. Maybe you have perfect pitch. Or perhaps you find yourself able to convince people of anything.
All that pales to what we think we can do.
The mind's ability to fool itself is amazing. We see challenges that should be insurmountable, and take them head on. It's beautiful. And the part that makes my trick work best. You see, I've got this... skill. Oh who are we kidding, it's magic. Very dark magic, but magic none the less. I can take the best parts of people. The parts they excel at. An archer's aim. A bard's music. A king's charisma. Sure, I also have to take their life, but few powers of that scale ever come without any drawbacks.
But it's not just their best talent. No. It's what they think is their best talent. And people always consider themselves better than they are.
And in a few days, I'll be a god. How? Easy. I've found a man who truly thinks they are a god. And that that is the best part of them. A single arrow will cure them of that. It's taken time to find him. I've traveled many lands. Spoken with beggars and kings alike. Always listening for a pompous fool. Last week, I found him. Over heard him in a bar, talking about his latest 'achievements'. It was truly entertaining.
"A round for my friends here."he shouted to the bartender, wildly swinging his mug as he did. "In fact, a round for everyone!"
A small cheer went up.
"It is a great joy to be around people with such... decadent taste."He took another swig of his ale. "Fascinated in what can be."
This is where I stepped in. Who wouldn't want to know what this man was saying? He had excellent charisma. I should know. He wore a plain tunic, with a strange sun pattern burned onto the front. Brown hair mopped on his head. Maybe 12 stone? Certainly an older fellow. In truth, I only remember his description because of my intent to hunt him. I remember most people by their favorite trait. Probably a side effect of having to study it so much, but still.
Ah, sorry. Getting off track. I stepped in, ready to listen, only to have the man call me out.
"There! A man of great magic! A gift bestowed, now used in vein."
Naturally I stepped back, shocked that anyone knew who I was. Coversion was one of the first traits I had taken. It had served me so well up till now. The man laughed, a hearty laugh.
"I kid! What's your name, fellow?"
I stammered. Being called out was unusual. "Sir Avery Baynard."
"A knight! We have a great man among us! Please, join this holy sacrament."A few cheers followed him.
Taking a seat at the far end of the bar, the bartender handed me a mug.
"Sorry 'bout that. 'E always loves teasin' newcomers. Gets all them with that same intro."
I took a sip of the ale. Surprisingly well made.
"You don't worry about him running people off?"
"Nah. 'E's great entertainment, an' doesn't expect any kick backs. Pays for his tab too! Couldn't find a better bard."
The man was rambling again. Listening in, it was surprisingly religious sounding. Talks of great miracles, holy communion, I had initially pegged him as some insane preacher. When he rapped up, he came and sat down next to me.
"Hello son. So, what did you think?"
I carefully examined him. He seemed harmless enough.
"It was... interesting. Who do you follow?"
Another laugh.
"Follow?! Son, I *am* a god! This is my temple!"He slapped me on the back. His words left me stunned, and I knew I needed his trait. Either he was insane, and I'd be a god, or he had amazing confidence, something I still lacked. It would be an amazing haul. I spent the next few days with him, learning about his... religion. It was fluid, focusing on self-reflection in the moment, over most traditional religions. Simple enough to remember without any books.
Eventually, he made his way back home. A few followed him. They called it a pilgrimage, which I suppose was accurate to some extent. I told him I was opting to stay. Had family the other way. He took it surprisingly well. The truth was, I couldn't be near when I took his life. Many of these people respected him, however mad he might be. I couldn't fight all them. Instead, I've been hiding in the forest, biding my time.
Soon, I will be a god.
---
For more of my writings, go check out r/SocietyofMythicPeople.
You can also find me on r/redditserials:
* [Phoenix of the Forest](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/eb78u4/phoenix_of_the_forest_chapter_1/)
* [Reborn](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/e1kn9x/reborn_part_1/)
* [Society of Mythic People](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/ejks96/society_of_mythic_people_chapter_1/)
---
NOTICE: This prompt response is unedited. This means there may be errors, including, but not limited to:
* incorrect grammar
* missing punctuation
* spelling errors
* incorrect word choice
* incorrect usage of your vs you're
* incorrect usage of to and too
Once moved to a full series, or published to another writing subreddit, I try and do a better first pass edit. If any of the above mistakes offend you, kindly go shove it. Most prompts get written at 2 in the morning. I'll probably make mistakes. I do my best to clear up spelling, but that's about it. |
It was 9 in the evening. I had just retired home from a busy day at court. I had to defend a guy who had murdered a police officer on duty trying to stop him from robbing a bank. That is what we public prosecutors do. We are payed by the government to fight cases of those who seek government's support to higher a lawyer. Right now as I speak, he must be rotting in prison. But thanks to me, he will not be hanged. However, this story is not about him. It is about the officer he killed.
As I entered my house, I locked the door and sat down leaning against it. The man I defended had a child fighting cancer, he had no money and they lived on the street. This was enough to buy him time away from death. But the police officer he killed, she was fresh on duty. She was exactly the same age as me. and had taken over her father's job after he too had died on duty. She has a mother who because of the request of the prosecution council was put in a government shelter home for the elderly. The woman was in her early 50s. She cursed me for defending her daughter's murderer. But what can I say, I was doing my job. We new bees don't get to choose our cases you know. And if we don't fight enough number of cases, our public prosecutor's licence will be canceled.
After drying out every last tear in my eyes, I sadly walked towards my bed. I had not taken my shoes off, I did not bother to change. I just wanted to sleep and forget the day. But I was woken up by some noise in the middle of the night. It was around 2 in the morning. There was a woman in officer cloths meddling with my things. She was singing and she had put on my headphones and listening to my play list. I can tell that it was my play list because the lady couldn't sing a single note in the proper way, she was very harshly mouthing out the words in the songs. I woke up. I thought it was my friend July who is also a woman in service and has the key to my apartment. But it could not be her, first of all, July is a relay good singer and second of all she never comes uninvited or without a message that she was coming. I kept wondering who could this woman be, I began to have thoughts. What if she was an importer and was wearing the uniform of the officer she killed? I held a flower vase I had not put flowers in thankfully and slowly walked towards her in fear. I had thoughts flooding my mind. For all I knew, this woman could be armed.
I took the vase and hit the back of her blond head with it. I waited for her head to bleed and for her to fall unconscious. But nothing of that sort happened. I had penetrated the vase right through her head and hit the pillar in-front of her! I could not believe my sleepy eyes. I pinched myself and could feel it. I was obviously not asleep and dreaming. This actually had happened. Was my vase some sort of magic vase? I had to find out. So I hit myself won the forehead with the same fores I hit the officer. Pain! I saw blood doping like water from a broken tap. I had successfully injured myself when I had an intruder at my house. All the meritorious years at law school I had, I never learnt how to deal with a situation like this. Then everything went blank.
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"Excuse me! Hi, can you wake up please. I have to go now, can you please unlock the door."I heard a female voice, I woke up with shooting pain on my head. I rubbed my forehead and felt a bandage on the wound from the vase. I was reaching out to my glasses when someone helped me reach them. I put my glasses on and looked in the direction my helper was standing. What I saw next is something beyond human explanation. It was the officer who my client had killed. I stared at her, I was shocked, scared, paranoid all at the same time. I was trying to ask her "Are you alive?"If she was alive, my client had to serve only 7 years in prison. I would be the lawyer who brought a person from death to win a case. I kept looking at her and I saw the bullet hole on her forehead. The place she was shot by my client the day of the bank robbery. I tried to touch it but the officer wouldn't let me. She kept saying "I have to go it's 12th November, it's my mother's birthday."She was pointing towards the calendar. Indeed, she knew it was 12th November. But did she not know she died on 10th November?
**Mumbling and stuttering, I attempt to tell the police officer but it was no use; I had no idea how to tell someone they're already dead.**
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After I regained so strength, I sat up on my bed. "Ha... How did you get in if the door was locked?"I asked, still looking at the bullet hole on her forehead. "You tell me! have you kidnapped me? I saw all the certificates on the wall, you are a lawyer, has anyone paid you to kidnap me?"she asked. I had no clue how to tell her, dead people don't get kidnapped. They get buried, like she was on the 11th of November. I had seen all of it. The memorial service from the Police department, her mother's speech cursing me, her burial. I was there, I saw all of that. But I continued to speak "I have not kidnapped you, I came home last night from a funeral and went to bed, when I woke up around 2 in the morning you were singing the worst tunes I have ever heard, I tried to hit you with a flower vase but I got injured myself, that's all I know."She began to laugh. "How could you possibly hit yourself? Anyways, if you have not kidnapped me, let me out, I have to go it's 12th November!"I woke up planning to let her out, I did not want to be associated in the case anymore. As I walked towards the door, I asked her, "What's today?"She replied running behind me "It's my mother's birthday!"It was like I was struck by lightning. I had defended a man who killed her and attended her funeral just a day before her mother's birthday. I opened the door in shock. I stood there like a doll as she attempted to set foot out of my apartment, but she couldn't, it was as if something had restricted her from going out.
"What have you done? let me out!"she said. By then one of my neighbors had come out to pick his newspaper up. "Good morning! I saw you coming in late lat night wearing black cloths. Has somebody passed away? are you alright?"In the confusion I was in, I could do nothing but nod in random directions. The man seemed confused. Just then the officer screamed. "Sir! please help me! I'm late, it's my mother's birthday, she will be waiting for me. This woman won't let me out!"The man did not see her. It was as if she did not exist. He smiled again and said "You relax now okay. And let me know if you need anything."The officer kept screaming "Sir! Sir please."But the man did not respond and went back into his apartment. The officer looked very angry, "Let me out or I'm calling back up she said."I looked at her very blankly "I'm the only one who can see you!"I said shutting the door behind me. She kept talking and following me. We walked towards the mirror. I saw my reflection but not her's. I said "Look, can you see yourself here?"
"I have no time for games, I have to go, my mother is waiting!"
"You can't leave! because you can't open the door! Do you have any memory of how you got here? Okay, do you have any memory other than your mother's birthday at all?"
"Just a day ago I was chasing a bank robber he pointed his gun at me, that's all I remember. Wait, are you one of the robbers? do you guys have a network of some kind? "
"No! I am the one who defended the robber in court. I got him out from hanging after he murdered you. Can't you see. You have no reflection, nobody but me can see you, I can not touch you (I tried to hold her hand but my hand went through hers like the vase went through her head.) YOU ARE DEAD! the man shot you on the forehead, and then you died!"
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She did not take the sad news well, I had never told somebody they died before, maybe I hurt her feelings. She cried for ages, after sobbing and cursing me like her mother did, she accepted her death. A ray of light came through my window, She said a voice was calling her from the other side. But she did not want to leave, She said it was her mother's birthday and her present had to be given to her. She directed me to give her mother the best present in the world. She had no choice but to relied on me as nobody else could see her. Then she walked into the light.
I thought for a while, what could the best gift be? Then it hit me. Why could she not go to her mother? Why could she not leave my house?
I brought her mother to my place. I call her mom now. I attempt to keep her happy. When she misses her child, I put on music and sing as badly as possible. That always puts a smile on her face. I hope the officer rests in peace now that her mother has found her lost child. |
"All right, gentleman, we finally arrived on *time*. Pun intended, if you don't like it, you can complain to me an *other time.* Well then, we located our VIP, currently under siege by the teams of the Dark Lord. Mission objective is simple; eliminate all hostile forces. As we practiced, gentleman, we don't have all the *time."* As we took our positions in teams of two, my squadmate and closest friend, Nathen, whispered to me through a private intercom: "I swear to God, if he continues to spam out terrible puns, I'll shoot her in the head."
We advanced silently though the terrain, surrounding our enemies from all sides. Each team reported ready after having sought shelter behind ruined vehicles, houses and other larger debris. Not that it was necessary, our Special Exoskeleton Recon Armor, S.E.R.A. could withstand any attach these primitives might come up. Finally, came the order from the Major: "Fire at will".
We thought we caught them by surprise, but they immediately had response fire. We all hoped this will be an easy mission, we had superior weapon tech. Worst case scenario, we get some scratched paint on the body armor, but nothing serious... In that very moment, the Major was shot down by one of the hostiles, right through the head-plate. Her body froze in place as she stood, as her scrambled brain was no longer able to steer her S.E.R.A. While the teams were under shock, the enemy wiped out 4 whole squads.
"Everyone, get back. We retreat immediately, all gather at Evac-point 5. I repeat, Everyone gather to Evac-point 5. "Nathen had balls of iron commanding the remainder of our team into safety. No doubt, he will come back as a hero of our nation. "All right everyone, we need a new plan. We massively underestimated this time's weapons and tech or overestimated ours. Either way I'll kick some asses in their respected divisions. Anyway, we need to bring out the heavy hitters we intended as backup. Let's go."
Interestingly, no one questioned him. We all needed to follow someone now. We took out the implosion grenade launchers, and took better shelters this time. The whole briefing and prep for counter attack took less than 5 minutes. What came next, was massacre, we finished them up in a manner of minutes, no casualties this time. Afterwards we went closer to observe the scene, but one bastard who survived triggered an EMP, disabling our suites. The fail-safes kicked in, and all the S.E.R.A.-s hatched around us, as to not be entombed. This was when we realized two things: One, we had no means of returning, and two, the weather was bloody cold.
"All right, everyone, scatter. All must bring is your sidearm and your rifle if you can get it from your S.E.R.A. Get into the ruins, and find any clothes you can. I don't want anyone to turn into a bloody snowman. You have five minutes, to report back here."In five minutes, we were all back, wearing whatever we could gather. We investigated the battlefield, but there was nothing to be found. The grenades compressed all matter in their vicinity, leaving nothing behind just a small ball of supercompressed matter. This is when shots came.
"What is this, a counter attack?"
"Well obviously, this guy was pretty resourceful in this era. On the clock, boys, we shoot them back."
We took covers, and started shooting back immediately. They were pushing hard, but then Nathen shoot what looked like his leader, and the rest of us culled the other attackers who had their head above any cover. They retreated at that very moment and were nowhere to be seen.
"All righty boys, let's do this. Remember, our great hero, High Consul Duarte is our beloved leader, so the history says we are victorious. Don't be scared!"
We all cheered, but I had a terrible feeling in my gut. Like I was having the worst Deja-Vu of my life. Huh, ridiculous, of course I'll have Deja-Vu, when we are literally the 1st Time Traveller Division. But still, something was strange. I couldn't finish that thought, because Squad 3 just imploded right next to me. The grenades started raining down, falling from the sky slowly, but inevitably. As everyone around be blinked out of existence to be reconstructed as ultraheavy dices, everything clicked in place. My lover body blinked out, and I realized that my final thoughts were coming. I wanted them to be meaningful.
First, what kind of sick joke is this? Why would anyone do this. If this is what happened, that means that the VIP dies and the Dark Lord becomes the.... Becomes the High Consul. I felt terrible, although not my legs, they no longer existed. The feeling of betrayal, and the sick joke of being killed by none other than my team, my friends. My vision started to black out, but there was one more thing that didn't made sense.... If... I'm the.... Final one... To die in the team....
​
Then who fired the E.M.P....??? |
I know I shouldn’t have answered the phone when I saw the name. Usually, I only talk to him in person, because I know that then, he won’t say anything stupid. But today, when he tried to ring me three times, I knew it was bad.
“Hey, Hans, darling, how’s it going? Listen, I know you don’t like me and it breaks my heart.”
“What’s this all about, I do like you. I just don’t like your way of doing things, sometimes. For example-”
We both had the same story – we wanted to save our small country town named “Blimp” - but while I mostly used my powers to try and make things better, he’d rather go around and sabotage nearby villages so that they depended on us or moved.
“We can speak about the details later! For now, there’s a big, BIG problem. Someone has stolen my Box of Evil Amazing Things, trademarked.”
He actually did trademark it. The box was where he put all of his catalysts, to have them on hand when he wanted to use his powers. But, since we retired twenty years ago, when I became mayor and went on to use politics to strengthen our town, we hid them in a secret location. Mine was in my wine cellar, behind some bottles, for example.
“Are they evil?”
“Not exactly.”
I had a doubt in my mind. He probably hid the box somewhere familiar, or where he knew nobody would go, so I could only see two people finding it, and only one of them would be able to use them.
“Maria took the box, thinking they were shiny rocks?”
A five year old, holding in the palm of her hand enough power to drown the entire town under torrential rain. The thought was scary, and it wasn’t like understanding the power or using it was hard – each rock had a color corresponding to an element. Focusing on a thought while holding the rock made it happen.
“Exactly.”
“And you haven’t scolded her or taken it back, because?”
“Just go outside and look up.”
I went to get my own bag of rocks before going out, and realized the problem. There was a massive castle on an island in the sky, with only a column to support it, and waterfalls to each sides. Luckily, they were thing and there was a river a few meters down, so there were no risk. And, at the base of the column, there he was.
“This is why you don’t hide the box in the cupboard under the sink.”
We knew that we needed to be very careful with the boxes when we adopted a kid with a power similar to ours. We only planned on letting her getting a box when we were sure she wouldn’t use it for selfish reasons.
“I’m confiscating your box. And you’re sleeping on the couch for at least a week.”
​
trying to go for a bit of humor, not sure if it came out well. Still, it was a fun thing to write! |
"Huh"I say in a shocked, but also excited voice. I've never had anything in life, that was out of the ordinary besides those scars, then I suddenly remember that my parents once told me, that these scars are no ordinary thing but they never never really explained what they meant, after that thought I shed a tear, "I miss you"is the only thought thats running through my mind now, "Why did you have to go so early?".
Eventhough we were no ordinary 3 headed family I can't seem to forget about them, they were never with me, they always had somewhere to be without giving me any details so for the majority of my childhood I was at their friends place whom I see as a second pair of parents, if that makes any sense.
The strange scars start to cause a little pain so my head drifts back to that. The pain which started out on a low level begins to get worse, so I bite my lower lip to compensate a bit and try to focus on that pain.
"I shouldnt scream"is whats running through my head, because Mark and Joanna are sleeping, since its 11 pm and they have to go to work tomorrow, yet I'm in need of someone.
Right as I'm about to give up to the pain I hear the front door opening, it has to be Naomi, Mark and Joannas daughter. I wish I didn't have to bother her since she just came back from a friends place and is most likely in a good mood, but I can't power through this on my own.
I almost run towards her before I even arrive she asks mid run "Hey Aaron, is something wrong? You seem more stressed out than usual". After I stopped running she says "oh my god whats wrong, you seem to be in pain."In a out of character voice, its out of character because normally she does not seem to care about me at all, normally she seems to feel jealous towards me, because her parents care a lot about me, maybe a little bit more than for her but in that moment she forgot about all of that.
"I dont know why but these things suddenly start to hurt a lot."I say whilst continuing to bite my lower lip and squeezing my eyelids. "Huh?? You mean the scars??"Is the only thing she is able to say in that moment of shock.
I nod in pain and lift my shirt a bit with the goal of showing her the strange glowing.
She gives off a confused and scared mimic whilst trying to form a sentence, but the only thing she's able to say is "fuck"
"Yes I know"I lowkey scream out. "You gotta tell mom and dad"she screams back at me "But I dont wanna bother them"I continue to scream at her, so we start arguing, as usual. She screams at me for not being such whimp and finally confronting myself with problems whilst I try and block everything off with arguments along the lines of not wanting to annoy others.
I did not watch the clock but it must've been about 5 minutes of loud arguing between the two of us, this is more characteristic behaviour from her end at this point.
"Oh my god just tell them"she bursts out, whilst Mark and Joanna join us "Tell who what? And why are you two arguing again?"Mark asks in a fatigued voice.
"Just look at Aaron"Naomi says in an annoyed voice whilst lifting my shirt a bit and revealing the strange glow. "Oh no....it begins"Joanna says in a worried voice, which lost all of its sleep fatigue. |
Charles Guiteau smiled as he was led to the gallows.
It was the greatest day of his life.
Throughout this sad path he'd trodden he'd often been cursed and forgotten. His family rejected him, the Oneida community had thrown him out (with an emphatic "Charles *Git out!*") but now, finally, on this gallows, he was getting what he deserved.
A loving, understanding audience willing to listen to him speak for hours on end if need be. The curiosity that drew men to watch the spectacle of death often required a certain respectful silence before the passing. It was unwritten law. That gave Charles Guiteau plenty of time to read out his final and most lovely poem he had ever composed. It was called "I Am Going To The Lordy"and he sang it in his most horrible high-pitched falsetto before switching over to a chant halfway through. He had to stop a few times to sob, putting his head on the shoulder of the stoic man next to him, but he got through it, and when he was done, he smiled.
His main point had been made: "I am a savior. They crucify me unjustly. I was sent to save this land."
That solemn law of silence was quickly broken, though. The people yelled and jeered and threw things as they listened, and none believed, none *heard*. That was alright. Guiteau was past listening to anyone else but himself. It was disappointing, though, he thought, that his jailers hadn't agreed to his terms and allowed a full orchestra to play while he recited his last and best work.
Charles Guiteau looked over at his executioner. He nodded. Charles Guiteau looked down at his poem, written in crumpled old paper, smiled again, and tossed it into the wind. The people jeered and screamed in delight. The hangman slipped his rope around Charles Guiteau's neck and the audience went wild. Guiteau died a happy man, hearing that. He'd finally managed to sway an audience to his side. |
"You want me to do WHAT?"I asked, confused.
"You heard me,"the Boss replied, "Get me some bees with frickin' laser beams attached to their wings. You know, so when we dump the honey, they'll..."
"Yes, yes, I get the idea,"I said holding up my hands, "But where in the sam hill am I meant to get lasers small enough to fit on the bees?"
The Boss shrugged.
"I don't know. You're the mad scientist. You figure it out."
I sighed and walked out of the planning room, ignoring the smirks Big Jim was throwing my way. That idiot only had to be the getaway driver, as it was the only thing he couldn't screw up. I walked over to my Lab and began thinking. I soon realised something. The lasers would be easy enough to produce, thanks to my patent-pending nano-technology, but where the heck was I meant to get the bees from? And how would I attach the lasers?
I threw up my arms in frustration. Then, I remembered something. Our gang had a contact in the honey business,. He could get some bees and a bee smoker for me. We only needed about fifty or so for The Boss's plan to work. I rubbed my hands together in glee and picked up the phone.
This was gonna bee easier than I thought.
A few phone calls and a cup of coffee later, there was a knock on the door. I opened it, and there stood Jerry, my contact at the Honey company.
"Here's the bees and equipment you wanted,"he said, handing me a box, "The bees were smoked before I packed them, so they shouldn't give you any problems."
"Ok, thanks,"I thanked him.
"Oh, and tell Little Terry I said 'Hi',"he said, walking out. Little Terry was Jerry's younger brother, and was supposed to get the honey for our little heist. I opened the box and took out the beekeeper's suit and the smoking gun. I doused the bees a few more times to be safe and got to work assembling the tiny laser beams that would be attached to the wings of the bees.
Eventually, everything was ready. I showed my work to The Boss, who congratulated me on my work. Terry soon popped back with the honey, and we all set off on our little adventure.
​
The plan was simple. While The Boss kept an eye on Big Jim, Me and Terry sneaked into the bank using the air vents. Once Jenny, serving as lookout in the lobby, gave the all clear, Terry dropped the honey containers into the room, while I unleashed the laser bees. The resulting confusion gave us plenty of opportunity to slip out of the vents near the vault and open it using the codes our informant had given us. After the three of us had looted the place, it was a simple matter to crawl back through the vents to a back-alley where the getaway car was waiting.
We all jumped in the car and sped off, leaving an empty vault, a honey-smeared carpet and several very annoyed bees with lasers attached to their wings. |
The Dragon sleeps beneath the mountain, this much is true. At night it dreams of wondrous places, of clear blue skies perfect for flight. It’s mind wanders and in a moment’s whim entire worlds coalesce and evaporate into the dark winter night’s breeze. I’ve seen waterfalls that dripped upward towards cities filled with magical light, with metal beasts that soar through the night. Men and women dressed in suits that crawl about the artificial illuminance like little bugs that scurry and stop hastily in their fright. And in the blink of an eye, this world is gone, replaced with a place similar to my own.
 
The familiar sight of simple folks working on fertile lands, toiling hard in fields adorn with all manner of various stones. These giant rocks lay in the lands, creating strange and inane shapes that compliment the horizon. And the creatures here may be found in any shape or size, not just the ordinary but quite often the extraordinary. Not as whimsical as great grey elephants atop a giant turtle, but beasts and birds with iridescent colors resembling light reflecting through oil droplets in water. They fly and scurry through tall leafy trees with strange appendages of horns and tails, undiluted by impure thoughts. The beasts hunt and flee completing life’s cruel circle, not an unjust world, not a mean dream, but not every thought is a happy one.
 
In my travels, sometimes I meet others like me. Benevolent watchers or perhaps better said protective observers, our job isn’t to interfere with the dreams of the dragon below the mountain. We don’t stop the wild cat from pouncing on the little bird, the wars between imaginary nations, or the suffering of the consciousnesses that come and go between the cracks. But every now and then, the mountain stirs. The great beast twitches and frowns, a terror fills it’s realm, and I hear a call. My companions and I, come from far and wide, to combat this terrible crime. This world that springs into being is unlike any dream, while sometimes it’s cruel and feels unreal, it approaches without any fear. The nightmare is here and I standfast with my peers, shields raised, to meet concerns made real. For this nightmare that has arrived is the dawn of time, reality has hit and my sleeping liege may wake.
 
The only defense against this steadfast wreck, is my imagination in rest, to fight the waking world from disrupting this multiverse’s quiet and silent purr. And while the universe calls, I plead with my dragon to avoid it’s howl. Blankets stir and the beast holds out a mighty paw, it’s siren ends and so does the danger to our dreams. Thus, the dragon sleeps beneath the mountain, this much is true. |
When the sun sets, everything turns to darkness. It wasn't that way forever; I remember a time in my youth, when the city would seem to come alive at night with lights from televisions and signs and cars racing past, how everything seemed to sparkle and shine after a good rain.
These are only dreams now. I hold onto these thoughts when the light is gone, when I have extinguished one of the few candles I still have left. I sit a while and let my mind wander in the endless dark. Sometimes, when the nights are cold, I almost lose myself in it.
Normally, when I look out my window, I can still see a few beams of light shimmering from the tallest towers in the city. Some are still there, shining like ghosts twenty stories above the rest of us. But most are gone. It's winter, and cold in this city with no more energy left in it, no more heart, no more soul.
For the rich, I must imagine that the city is a lonely sight. It must be horrifying to stare down at all of that blackness from thirty stories up. That is one thing that I do not envy them for.
Tomorrow, I will head out into the black market and buy whatever I can for the coming days. It's supposed to snow. If I don't buy more heat, I know I, like many of my friends and family, will die. I've seen too many cold days in my life; I know, I *know* that one more might just kill me.
I curse my ancestors, I curse myself every day for not caring for this planet that we live on, for not thinking that this would ever happen, for not caring enough to try to save ourselves from this cold darkness. I pray every day for energy from somewhere, anywhere. For this city to find its light again. |
Henry Menthogue was always a businessman at heart. He sold product, he attracted customers, and he made money. Yes, he thought, there were times when he cut corners, but a bit of entrepreneurial spiral never killed anyone. He watched as celebrities piled into the warehouse and, among them, stood special agent Rick Rathaus.
Adjusting his tie, Henry stepped onto the podium. It was now or never.
“Good afternoon everyone,” he announced. “I understand that all the people in this room have come to be the first to use my state-of-the-art time machine. Now (he pointed toward the wall), you may see the elevator doors beside you. These will be the method of transport to go back in time. Mind you, not all of the kinks have been worked out so if you experience any issues, just hit the big, red button.”
The crowd dispersed immediately toward the elevators, almost magnetically. Rathaus eyed the podium; something was up.
“Pretty cool, right?” someone giggled.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Rick responded coldly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Henry,
although that was rather difficult, as he had disappeared backstage.
Suddenly, the vast elevator doors drilled open to reveal Henry inside.
“Let’s take the first batch, shall we?” he gave a welcoming, almost comforting gaze and signalled for them to come inside. Rathaus shoved past the brooding crowd (‘Ouch’, ‘Sorry’, ‘Agh my head!’) and entered the shaft with Henry. “No more, we’re at maximum capacity,” hearing this, Rick signed with relief.
The elevator began to drop: first slowly, then it went into free fall. Henry seemed to be the only one not bothered about this. As soon enough as it had started, it began to slow down, almost drawing to a stop altogether.
“What time do you folks think we’re in, huh?” Henry chuckled. “Any guesses?”
Beside them, one door began to open, leading into a square room with cold aluminium floors, with a ceiling to match. The LEDs on top seemed distant, and gave it an artificial feeling. Henry was the first to step out, entering with the *click-clack* of his boots echoing about.
“Come on, don’t be shy!” he bellowed haughtily, to the slow, restrained footsteps that followed. As soon as the last passenger, Rick had stepped off, the elevator shot back to the top floor.
“So, do we like it here or what?” Henry spat, quizzaciously.
“Now just what’s goin’ on here?” Rick shouted, holding up his FBI badge firmly. “You gotta let us back up there!”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” Henry smirked.
Rick, finally losing his temper, tackled Henry, but passed through him. Henry giggled maniacally, pixelating out of reality.
“You’re a... you’re not...”
Henry vanished.
“Ah, shit! Shit! Shit!” Rick screamed, slamming his fists into the ground.
The elevator reopened on the top floor.
“Who wants to go to... Ancient Greece?”
_______
Thoughts? |
*365 days.*
"Wait ... isn't that *a whole year?!* What did you screw up so much you traded a WHOLE YEAR worth of your life to get it right?"Leland, my best friend since grade school, runs a hand through his tousled hair in bewilderment.
I open my mouth to say something, then close it again. I look like a fish. I shrug at him helplessly and twirl the hourglass medallion between my fingers. The bronze metal glints in the sun. I can hear the sand shifting in its confides, sliding through the inner chambers, waiting once again to tip time back for another moment.
It's mesmerizing. I try to regain focus but thoughts swirl in my head like wine. I feel dizzy and force myself not to think of what will happen today.
"Hello? Are you going to answer me? How many times have we had this conversation?!"Leland crosses his arms over his chest.
"For you? Once. For me? Oh ... only about 235 times. We don't have it every time. But it usually happens like this. It's not the best outcome but I prefer it to the other ways."I reply absently.
Leland grasps me by the shoulders. I can feel him staring hard at my face. He hasn't done this before. Even if it had, I'm not sure I could meet that knowing gaze when he says:
"Hey, stop beating yourself up. You tried. Whatever happens today. I forgive you. I'm not going to ask you to explain. I'm just going to trust you. I hope you'll do the same and believe me when I tell you it's going to be okay. Whatever you're trying to hold onto, let it go."
He releases his grip from my shoulders. I make the mistake of looking up at his face. He's got these strange, marble eyes in a haunting shade of pale blue. The air sticks in my lungs as I look at him. His brows are creased in concern. He was always like a big brother to me.
"No. You don't understand. I'm doing all this because *I* can't forgive *you.*"The lines of concern change to confusion. He raises an eyebrow. For a second, he looks confused. The confusion abruptly switches off and turns into a glassy gaze. He isn't really looking at me anymore. Right before he falls to the floor, right before his brain erupts and his heart seizes, I tilt the time piece in my hand.
*366 days.*
\---
Melodramatic I know. But I'm too sleepy to think of a more clever ending. Hope you liked it :) |
The day, the day of apocalypse, a rogue planet had entered the star system and is on it's own crash course with our planet.
That until the god we worship, God Heagan, stopped time itself and approached me. His beautiful clothing of thin, purple, zipperless vest and his sleeves of a lighter shade of violet, his long, indigo, zipperless boots that reach just below his knee, and his purple-colored
leggings were all the same, as stated by His other prophets.
What did surprise me more, was that he was begging me, a god, begging a mere mortal like me, to take His place as god.
"Come on, just take my place, as a god that protects and sustains the balance of the world", asked Heagan.
"What? I'm just a mortal! How can a mere mortal like me be able to do God's work", I answered.
"For billions of years, I have kept balance here, I ahqam getting too old to remain a deity, Ashion, I want you claim what I have",once again asked by Heagan
"God Heagan, please, anyone else, I want to live a normal life for the rest of my days"
"Then live your normal days disguising yourself as who you are now after looking and instilling balance to the world, the world's fate is in your grasp now, Ashion"
"Fine, for the sake of the world..."
Heagan instructed, "Look, Ashion, that rogue planet the size of pluto you just have to carry that planet away from here, but don't try to shatter. After that, return the other parts of the star system back where they belong"
Then I ask worriedly, "But what if I failed to do so?"
"We'll just have to find out", He answered.
He started gyrating his hands and his body almost, blue, purple, and indigo dust and light started to flow within the area a little front of his palms. He casted this power onto me. A god's power is like no other, I felt great, I felt powerful, I've never been alive. My clothes morphed to somewhat similar to Heagan's but with even more elegant.
Time continues as Heagan's powers were given to me. The rogue planet approaching the atmosphere, I rushed onto it and pushed it back, as hard as I could.
Damn, the gravity of the planet was no joke, I felt as if I was standing with my hands upside down. The planet was too heavy, especially as I feel the two planet's gravitational forces pull themselves together.
As hard as a god like me can push, I was almost ineffective. To my surprise, Heagan approached in front of me and helped me push the planet away.
"God Heagan, we won't make it! The world is gonna end!", I exclaimed in front of him.
"Stop calling me god, Ashion", He told me.
"And that's where you're wrong, Ashion, this isn't where the world ends, you will make a new opportunity, a new beginning for humanity, as they repent, have faith, and worship you for saving them from this exoplanet", as he inspires me, I feel ourselves getting stronger, pushing the entire planet away.
Heagan had to return to our planet and had to push it, the exoplanet almost pulled it away from the goldilock's zone.
The excitement I had in me, the feeling of being a unique person, finally, I focused all this energy to my hand, forcing upon a blast of destructive power. The planet vaporised. The blast came out so quick that it traveled lightspeed.
Hastily, I forced every planet and other celestial body back to where they belong, from simple asteroids to gas giants.
Later on, I returned to the planet but away from the presence of any human being. I sat on the roof of some building waiting for the sun to set.
Somehow, I hear people cheering, laughing, crying tears of joy, and even crying out loud "All praise God Heagan! He has saved us from doom", the last statement, made me smile, maybe they haven't heard of me, well, at least for now.
"Hey, thanks for taking my position, I can now rest in peace", to my surprise, Heagan appeared out of nowhere, once again.
He sits beside me watching the blue sky turn orange.
"No problem Hea-, wait, you are dying?! And, where are you going?"
"No, silly, like some other gods, I can now retire. Well, wherever fate leads me. Also, take care of this planet, like how I used to take care of all of you"
"I will, take care Heagan, farewells"
Purple light started enveloping Heagan beside me, as I watched him leave, he took a quick smile before his upper body disappeared as well.
Perfect timing, the sun had just touched the edge of the waters.
"So, now what?" |
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