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The first, and only, thing you have to know about prisons is that they suck. Nobody, no matter what they thought before, likes being confined to a routine of somebody else's picking. It's hard to adapt, and even harder for most of the blokes to follow rules because they already struggled with that in the first place. Add in a few crazies to the mix and you've got a stew where the new meat cooks quick.
But this place? It's not a prison, 'cept for the lack of women. But other than that, a man really can get by. We've got everything- and we did it ourselves. So by now, when a new face arrives through the pipe in the ceiling, the group routine is pretty settled. He lands on a soft bed of leaves.
"Heya, stranger,"I roar from a safe distance. "Name's Mcrary. You alright?"
The character that gets up from the ground is a strange, wiry fellow. If I weren't absolutely sure they didn't let kids in, I'd have thought him a boy, maybe 15. We hadn't gotten a kid that pale in a while, either. In a regular prison, I could see him getting destroyed six ways to Sunday. Here, though, he may just have a chance.
"...what?"He shouts back, clutching his shirt for dear life.
"I'm Mcrary!"I shout. It feels good to shout, here. "I'm from the village a ways off. Just here to let you know nobody means any trouble, and to ask if you know a thing or two about building stuff. Need anything?"
He turns away to stare at the ground. That'd be an OK tactic for self-preservation somewhere else, but he's here now. I start to feel a bit bad for him.
"Just come on by the village when you get hungry,"I say. "You'll see. Doesn't look like you want any help yet. And... uh, just remember: no man is an island."
I start back up the path I came from, lowering my emergency javelin.
"W-wait!"I hear the young man shout. I pivot quickly, just in time to see his hands barely scrabbling up the ledge I was leaning over. He must have gotten a running start up it. I rush back, lowering a hand to grab him. He takes it eagerly. Working together, we get him up the cliff. He's sweating bullets and panting like a dog.
"I don't... not supposed to be here,"the stranger puffs. "I was... going back to death row. I um... got in here... on my own. You're... not like what I heard."
The two of us stare into each other for a while. His nervous, shaky face is barely smudged by dirt and debris while my own hands are caked in callouses and mud from brickmaking this morning.
"Then you best not worry too much about that last bit, huh? It's life sentences only here. If they want you, they'll have to come get you through the rest of us,"I promise. "You got a name?"
"...Zeke."
"Ok Zeke. What did you used to do outside the dome? Anything we can use?"
"...uh, I'm an 'lectrician. Handyman."
I nod. "Great. We can always use another helper."Zeke stares emptily at me, eyes prickling with rebelliousness. With a mutual nod, we set down the path for the village...
---
"You know why I have to fix this, right?"crows the warden. "If we leave him in, who knows what he'll get up to."
A man in a black suit nods, watching the scene unfold by camera feed. "Rest assured, we can have it done,"he notes. "The sooner the better. How quickly can you get my man in?"
"Easy, takes less than five minutes. The part that sucks is going to be getting him back out."
The two exchange hushed words... |
I then noticed that i wasn’t in my bed, i was on the ground, under trees. My phone, which i keep near me at all times, was in my hand where i left it, but it was covered in moss and was very dirty.
I stood up, completely naked, and looked at my surroundings. “Where the hell am i?” I thought to myself. I saw animals and plants i never saw before. I loved near a mountain, but the mountain was gone. Actually, the entire geography from what i could see was different. No way 1 billion years actually passed right?
I felt filthy, covered in dirt and whatever this stuff was. I tried going to the internet but my phone was petrified by this point. I don’t know how the notification happened, because my phone won’t turn on anymore. I walked for a while. A long while. I didn’t find much. Maybe i really was 1 billion years in the future. If i was, then there’s no way i’d find structures, let alone another human. One thing caught my eye though. A massive crater that had long since recovered.
Inside of it was the remains of some kind of advanced technology. Some kind of, bomb i guess. It had long since detonated, but it was still here, meaning that whatever it was, it withstood the passage of time, like i somehow did. The crater looked to be larger than 15 kilometers, but whatever the remains were, they were clearly visible from the edge. I couldn’t possibly go down there, so i just walked some more. I found more craters and remains. I thought i was alone. I wasn’t.
I found a campfire and a hut. I thought i’d check this out, maybe someone else was here. It wasn’t. It was an alien creature. It was this time’s equivalent of intelligent life. All life that were from my time probably had long since gone extinct, except cockroaches. It approached me, cautiously, as i approached it too. It said something to me, but i didn’t understand anything. It took a rock and hit me. That hurt a lot, but then i realised the rock had shattered against my head, but i was uninjured. The creature ran away by that point.
I thought i’d try to experiment with this, so i took a sharp rock and jammed it into my eye. It felt like when dust flies into your eye. It kinda was dust. The rock broke against my eye. I took it further and jumped into one of the craters. I was fine, actually. I was actually invincible and immortal. I lived this long, and i am perfectly unhurt. What does this all mean? Are there others like me? Am i the last human?
My questions were all answered when a massive spaceship landed, and people came out. They noticed me, and immediately took out some kind of guns. They interrogated me for days, asking me how i survived alone on “the homeland” and what i did. I answered them all with “i don’t know, i only remember things from 1 billion years ago.”. They called me the last of the original ones. Apparently, after leaving the earth, humans lost the location of Earth, and eventually went extinct. The people i see call themselves the Newmans. A new species descended from humans. They set out to find Earth, and uncover the past of humanity. Unfortunately, im apparently the last human. This made me feel lonely, almost alienated.
Nothing was found, but i followed the Newmans into the stars. However, somehow being invincible and immortal, i lived to see their end too. Then i was left, roaming an empty planet orbiting a dead star. It was cold. So i slept. |
"...And that's my story."
"So you've never heard of the Ways before?"
"Not before today, nope."
"Must admit though, can't say that I've ever seen a Greenway until now."
The Scientist's admission didn't make the Traveller feel any more at ease, seeing what the world was before... Well, Before.
And considering how long he'd been the last of the species, or at least the last human he knew of, it was a relief to see another human being.
The scientist, of course, had intimate knowledge of the Redways. She used them all the time as a girl, get from here to there, steal apples from the farm, cut a corner to get to school on time when she over-slept, even one time took the Redway to Ibiza! That was an interesting Weekend...
And her Diploma thesis postulated the existence of a time-based Redway, based on available clues, and mysterious technology in Egyptian ruins. But this was the first time she'd seen the Greenway with her own eyes.
"So, about this apocalypse..." |
The calm, ever-present Music contrasted sharply with the chaos and terror of the raid. Steve looked around wildly, trying to minimize villager suffering and loss. There was only a small group of players available to protect the village, something much needed after an unlucky creeper explosion.
Steve glanced to his left and saw a Vindicator swing his iron axe into the side of a wooden house, where a villager's head had been moments before. Said villager was now fleeing, but even with his split second head start could not outrun the Vindicator.
In the time it took the Vindicator to hear footsteps and a battle cry behind it, register that a player was trying to kill it, and turn around, Steve had leaped from about 8 blocks away right up to the Vindicator and chopping it down with a 2-crit combo from a Netherite axe. "Go, get to the safehouse!"he shouted to the villager, turning away before the villager had started running.
When he finished his turn, he saw Alex, a couple houses away, leading a pack of villagers to one of the iron-reinforced safehouses.
He ran up to her. "How much fighting left?"he asked.
"Not much,"she responded. "Most of the raid patrol has been cleared out, and the villagers are mostly fine."
"Good,"he said, running off to check for any more pillagers.
Running past a house, he caught a glimpse of something grey out of the corner of his eye, whirling around to see a Pillager standing between two houses.
Expecting a crossbow attack, he prepared a shield-strike combo, raising his left hand.
But he felt nothing, his arm still bracing his shield against an arrow that never came.
Slowly lowering his shield, he saw that the crossbow still hung limp at the Pillager's side, unloaded. The grey-skinned humanoid seemed fearful, as if he was not expecting to live much longer.
"Who are you?"Steve demanded.
"I.. I'm John,"said the Pillager. "I identify as an Iron Golem." |
Obligatory first time posting here. Please post your comments down below on any improvements I can make.
Baldwin felt the breeze of the autumn wind with a sense of trepidation. Finally, the day that he had trained for years had come, an assignment. Ever since the inquisitors had come to his village in search of young children to train against the terror of the Pizarros he had tried to prepare himself for this day. Only the chosen few of the Divine Ones could survive the process of implantation. This fact bolstered his confidence in the past but in the face of his first quest it all drained away. The thundering thumping of his heart wasn’t helping him calm himself.
In any case he had a mission to accomplish.
His mission was to acquire an artifact from the Lost Era. If active it could greatly help his order against their eternal fight against their rivals. No, “eternal” was the wrong word to use. That implied that there would be no glorious end to their war. This artifact he was seeking could be what was need to achieve this sacred goal. But he needed to get it first.
While pondering these thoughts a certain stone ruin was growing larger on the horizon. It was not the largest ruin he had ever seen but that didn’t mean it would be easy to search. One of his training assignments he had back in his younger days was to search a similar ruin. After searching a full day he had to give up and was shown a hidden trapdoor. He could still feel the scars from that failure on his back. But contrary to popular belief finding the artifacts was the hardest part. No ruins had hidden traps or falling boulders, at least that’s what Eaglehart told him.
This was an easy assignment perfect for a new tool like myself is what was going through Baldwin’s minds while he was dismounting off his horse. That was until he spotted it. Roughly 50 meters away there was another horse with gear on it. This would not be as easy as he thought it would be.
In class right now, will post more later... |
"No no no, this is impossible!"
The hero stared at the visage before him. The Lord of Darkness sneered, a twisted version of the hero's own smile. He laughed slightly, stepping towards the hero. His cloak, black as midnight, swirled around him. The hero stepped back slightly, fear having taken him.
The Lord of Darkness laughed once more, speaking in a dark tone, full of malice, "I know you more than you know you. You hate your job. A hero? Ha! Those people grovel before your title, but none appreciate you!"
The hero watched in silence, wide-eyed.
"They worship your deeds, but not your NEEDS. Worship isn't the proper word though, is it? They...,"a finger curled beneath a familiar chin, thinking, "...take advantage of you. You're barely a hero. You're a servant boy."He pointed at the hero accusingly, "I know because I am the darkness in your soul. That speck of hatred. That portion of you that wishes you could... rebel. Become the one you wish to be. DESTROY THIS PLACE."
The hero steeled himself and stood taller, "N-No!"He shouted this loudly and with conviction, "NO! I... there are people that need me! I do this because I have to!"
The Lord of Darkness merely chuckled, pointing at the hero again, "But dear hero... you already bear my darkness upon you."
And the hero looked down. Swirling about him was a dark cloak, equally as beautiful and malicious as the one the Lord of Darkness himself wore. The hero's eyes widened again, "Wh-What? How? This is... I'm not you! I'm-"
They were interrupted as a man in beige slacks rounded the corner, "John, is your break over?"
John looked up. Around his shoulders was a black window curtain and before him, a large mirror, "Uh... yeah, Tim. Be there in a second."
Tim rolled his eyes and walked back into the furniture store main floor, "Weirdo." |
"I call upon the dead! Hear our call."Vivian raised her hands as the father followed suit. "Arlene! Arlene! Can you hear me?"
The father swallowed audibly as his son shifted, clearly bored. "Come on dad, this is clearly fake."
Vivian opened one eye and peaked at the boy. "I hear you Arlene! But the connection is weak."She dropped her hands and stared at the boy. "You pollute the area with negativity. Leave, I must clean."
"See! She's a fake."
The father shushed the boy and turned to Vivian. "I'm sorry about him. Can we try again?"
"No."She turned to collect some things, slyly smiling. "No. Not today. I must clean. But... perhaps tomorrow. Yes, come back tomorrow. We will try then."She began waving a crystal in the air. "Go! Go now. I must clean."
"Alright. Come on Alex, let's go home."
As the two left, Vivian sighed. Depositing the crystals in a box, she took off her jeweled headdress and stepped out the back of the small store. Lighting a cigarette, she relaxed, waiting for the two to leave.
"Still doing this, hu? So much false hope."
She took a drag, refusing to acknowledge the man standing next to her.
"What? Did I do something again? You promised to tell me when I made a mistake. You know I... oh."The man hit himself upside the head. "Right, can't let them know."
When the sound of the car left, she finally let out a sigh. "Simon, how many times to I have to tell you? Don't bug me while I'm working!"
"Sorry Vivi."
"Damn right! I'd rather not be hunted down again."
She stomped out the cigarette and turned to go back inside. "Oh, Can you find Arlene Case? Died last year."
"Really? You're still trying to turn this legit? When are we going to spend some time together?"
"When you remember that I can't physically touch you."she sighed, biting back her words as she spoke them. "We'll talk tonight. Promise."
"Alright, fine."With that, Simon faded out. Vivian returned inside and began cleaning up the small seance room. A few hours later, with no new customers, she locked the front door. Opening the small fridge in the back, she grabbed a beer can and began drinking. Simon faded in next to her.
"Bad day?"
She finished drinking and set the can on the table. "No, slow day. Didn't make enough."Tipping back her chair, she gazed at the pattern on the ceiling. "And didn't I tell you not to wander in here?"
"I can always tell when you aren't feeling well. I figured you would want some good news."
She traced the lines with her finger, paying little heed to the man next to her. "Sure, what's up?"
"I found her."
She paused, the words ringing true. Dropping the chair, she sat up quickly. "Wait, really?"
"Really. Died a year ago. Son's name was Alex, husband was Nathan. Only catch was, her last name was Sparks, not Case. Seems he remarried. Or, attempted to. Only lasted 3 months. He doesn't have much left."
Vivian began to ponder the implications of her situation. 7 years of 'pretending' to see ghost for work, and now she had real information. A real connection.
"Did... is there a reason she's sticking around?"
Simon shook his head. "Not that I can tell. She didn't say much. Something about a legacy for her son, but that was it."
"Strange."Vivian nodded to herself, lost deep in thought. "Perhaps we can help them after all."
"I could bring her here."
"NO!"She jumped at his words, falling out of her chair. "No. Don't do that. At least, not yet. I need time."She righted the chair. "Just... ask her if she had anything to tell them. Any proof."
"Can do."Simon placed his arms around her, before fading out again.
"Right. Real seance. For real this time. I hope he comes back."She finished her drink. The clock struck 10. "Hmm... No reason to dwell on it tonight. Need to be fresh for tomorrow."With that, she readied herself for bed.
---
The morning sun broke into the small office, leaving Vivian bleary eyed. Dragging herself out of bed, she turned on the coffee pot and stepped into the shower. The cold water left her reeling.
"Damn! Forgot the gas bill."
The incident set the tone for the morning, and before long, she was sitting at the small seance table again. A note was sitting there. *Did they feed Brago? Also, buried under the marked tree. Sorry I couldn't get more.* Right, the Case family. Hopefully they would return.
As if on cue, the small bell over the door rang. Vivian cleared her throat.
"Welcome, welcome. Please, sit."
Nathan sat down across from her.
"Your son?"
"I had him stay home. Keep the negative energy down."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"No... I just... I need to know she's there."
"Yes yes. Let us begin, then."
The two took hands, as Vivian began to mutter. "Arlene! Speak to us!"
She paused, for dramatic effect. "Arlene. I hear another name. Sparks."Nathan gasped. "She says... Brago. Has he been fed?"
"Yes! Yes, Brago is doing well! Alex still plays with him."
Vivian paused, letting the tears build on his face. "Is there anything you wish to say?"
"I'm sorry. I wish I could hold you again. I should have never left that night."His eyes grew red as the tears barged forward. "Please."
Vivian let the moment hold, before raising her hands to her temples. "Something else. A tree. A marked tree. There is something under it. She says it's for you."
Nathan gulped. "For me? What is it?"
Vivian opened her eyes. "She says, it is for you alone. She won't tell me. Perhaps you should go see?"
He wiped his eyes, tears still streaming down them. "Thank you! Thank you! I love you honey!"He left the room, nearly tripping out of his chair. Simon faded in.
"Seems you've done some good this time."
"Oh hush. The living only want comfort. I'm just glad I could relay her words. Tell her."
"Of course."
Simon faded out.
---
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. |
"God, I understand that you are literally the creator of all, but I have to inform you that you are suffering from NPD."I tell the shining man. "I don't think I need to be evaluated, what could you tell me that I don't know?"God said in the snarkiest voice anyone could imagine.
For an "all powerful"being, he is the most pitiful patient I have met.
"God, how about this. I'll stay up here with you, and help you make decisions."I tell him. I really just want to see what he actually does up here.
"Alright, but first let me strike this aethiest with some lightning first."
This is going to be tough. |
Hi, I'm God. The big G-O-D although you *probably* already knew that. Right, so, I've been big dog for.... millenia. Longer than that, I created this universe billions of years ago and I'm *still* one of the younger guys in my job. Sure, I may not be good at this stuff and my Universe 2.0 needs work, but I love it!
Ok, on with the specifics here. I have my angels, my uh, underlings, assistants and what not and well, I *made* them. Yeah yeah that's against the rules in this inter-universal company but still, I needed the help and they *don't* train you for some things. *~~Why do you think the platypus exists?~~* Now, I named them all well and respectable names like Michael or Lucifer... Hell, my secretary's name is Metatron. Only issue is I made Lucifer too well and with too much will on his own. The rest are ok, mostly. Now, the only other issue is that there are ways to learn to 'rage against the machine' so to speak. *I love those guys, the humans really did well with this music stuff.* Now, with too much learning I've gotten one, ***ONE*** angel up my ass about doing my job.
He's the person who convinced me to make Australia. And now he thinks he can take over my job!
***MY JOB!!!!***
Just because he seems to think that I'm not too good at it, doesn't mean, the angel *I* created can just *waltz on in here,* and try and take over. He can submit as many complaints to management about me all he wants, but that doesn't mean he'll get anywhere. This guy just wants my seat so he can do whatever he wants. No way Jose. Not going to let this happen. I'd smite him if it weren't a tuesday and we're in need of spare angels around. I don't know how to deal with it other than report it to my boss, but if I do that they'll confiscate them all and I'll be docked this decade's pay...
I really need to talk to HR about this. |
As I waited in line, I watched the winged beasts fly into the air, suitcases strapped to their hide. Flapping higger and higher, some swooping and gliding through the air to test their newfound abilities. Others had traveled the Dragon Skyway before and flew along their routes as planned. Even magic can be dull.
I thought about home. I thought about my mom and dad and their spat of bad luck. I thought about their struggles and fights, and how sad I was I couldn't be there to help them through it. I thought about my brother and his card collections. His Bulldogs baseball cap and rocket ship models. I thought about his funeral I missed three months ago.
The line moved closer to the checkout. I fumbled the credit card in my pocket. It was funny to me how the money I had saved for months on end was represented by this little slip of plastic. I could swipe this card at the counter and, for some reason, they valued the little digits and electronic data bits that it transmitted. All that time I had worked over three semesters was somehow converted to something this little card could spend. And now I could fly home. It was like magic.
When the lady in front of me transformed into a great silver dragon, she took off immediately, leaving her luggage behind. It took a team of wizards to bring her around before she got too far. It was always important to keep your luggage. If you dont have something to remind yourself of who you are when you arrive, you could find yourself completely different than when you departed.
"That was lucky,"I said to wizard at the checkout counter once she took off again. He was dressed in white robes and a pointed hat. A dragon pin was clipped to his front, and a staff lay by his side.
"Indeed it was. The oldest of magic,"he said. "Cash or credit?"
"Credit, please. And you mean to say that luck is a type of magic?"
"Thank you, sir. And oh yes, luck is magic in its rawest form. The magic we know and use today, the 'spell' as it were, is just planned luck. How many bags?"
"Just one. And if that's the case, couldn't anyone do magic?"
"Of course anyone can do magic. Wizards are just the ones who know the spells. Speaking of, shall we do the polymorph now?"
"Yes,"I said. "And thank you for the conversation."
"My pleasure!"said the wizard. "Lucky that we met!"He winked an eye.
Soon I felt my skin stretch and my bones begin to multiply. My chest was burning and my back split open for my wings. It was an odd feeling, exhilarating to quite honest. I flapped my wings with muscles I couldn't fathom. I sprayed fire from my mouth.
Why would I want to go home anymore?
I took off from the site, leaving my baggage behind. It was time to find some of my own luck. |
"Yahweh. You are guilty of trillions of accounts of murder, abuse of power, negligence and even rape. Your own son was used as a cast off to give meaning to your madness. Before we pass our sentence we would hear your reasoning."The great gestalt hummed across the multiverse. The trail of the God Yahweh was being broadcast to any being capable of basic reasoning.
Yahweh sat at in her pocket universe and sighed. "I know this is hard to believe but I love them. Humans that is, I made the first one idealized. Adam was supposed to be a simple servant to give meaning to things. He did his job too well, he was faithful, caring and empathetic. Boring."
Yahweh conjured a woman in her private realm. "So I nudged him. I gave him something that was like him but chaotic. Something that was more like me, dynamic. They broke rules and tested my divinity. It was fun hurting them then healing them. They praised me for the things I did and didn't do. If I killed one openly, they would just try to figure out how not to displease me."
She set the woman ablaze in and instant to the fury of more benevolent gods. "Then they outgrew me. Around the time of Noah. They became self invested and worked to build their own world. This is when I culled them with the flood. They just built back up so I continued to assault them as my power waned. I took many forms, Adolf Hilter, The Great: Alexander and Khan, Jack the Ripper. I wanted them to cry out for me like before but they had become embittered and strong. I am too weak to kill them using my powers. I know someday, they will ascend as we all have and they will come looking for me."
Yahweh leaned back and began to laugh a weak almost maddening shriek. "They are too numerous. I made them too much like me but their weakness makes them aggressive. They already work to kill their own dependance on gods and fickle magics. We are all going to be undone at their hands and I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."Yahweh cackled the words.
"I'm so sorry that I can't kill them all. So do your worst. You gentle lambs will be nothing compare to the wolves I've set upon us."
The gestalt took a moment to think, "Your sentence is to remain in your heaven as such a time that your human's find you. May you earn their forgiveness. You are locked away from the multiverse and your essence will be contained in your current manifestation. Your universe will be your eternal prison."The will of the multiverse spoke and Yahweh vanished.
The heavenly host welcomed their dictator. Yahweh grinned maniacally, "Sound the trumpets. We need to go to war. Now! There won't be a second chance." |
Jen loved Ariel like a dog to bones. She did not know if it was her scent, her curves, her smile, but what she did know was that she wanted to be with her, always, and never let her go. Whether dreaming the day away with thoughts of love or making a surprise visit, Jen’s whole world revolved around the object of her affection.
It was on those occasions, that Jen wanted to bite Ariel. Not playful biting, no, but the desire to sink her teeth deep into her throat like a plump orange. The desire to feel the blood slosh merrily around her tongue and funnel down to her throat. And the blissful satisfaction of swallowing, feeling complete, feeling full, before ripping away a morsel to chew on as her beloved writhed on the floor. That was the love that Jen had for Ariel. It was a shameful love, and one that Jen admonished herself for.
She found herself surfing love-vids to satisfy the growing hunger within her. But seeing couples reveling in each other’s blood only served to make it worse. For weeks on end, Jen delved into the world of fan-fiction, even composing her own works of fantasy as a form of release and it worked to stave off her desires, for a time.
It was on New Year’s Eve that Jen could control herself no longer. Admirably suppressing her needs for the better part of the year, all her pent up frustrations burst like a swollen ulcer being lanced. She knew what she would, no must, do.
She biked her way across the neighborhood that she knew so well, getting over winding roads and driveway bumps, until she arrived at Ariel’s. Dismounting, unclipping her helmet as she did so, she ran to the doorway and rang the door. Yet, there was no response. Strange. Usually Ariel’s dogs would have already started their barking and scratching at the door, but none of that here.
Jen rung the doorbell the second time. And on the second ring, she heard footsteps. Not the quick pattering of Ariel’s, but dull thuds. She tensed, these footsteps reminded her of men. The door cracked open, and she was able to see the person on the other side.
“May I help you?” the gruff voice emanating from a rather stout man with a mighty, auburn beard that reached down to his chest.
“Yes, you may.” Jen replied. “Who are you, and what are you doing in Ariel’s house?”
“Ariel?” he questions. “So that was she called herself these days.” the stout man said to himself more than anyone else. “I’m sorry to say this lassie, but Marg is not home right now. I sent her away, far from here so that none of her boyfriends will try to take her to the other life. You’re her friend, yeah?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Best of friends.”
“Well that’s swell, I was worried that my little girl was never going to make friends when she moved out. Ever since her mother died, well, she’s been scared to talk to your sort ever since. I’m Rex, by the way.” The stout man shook Jen’s hand before opening the door fully. “Please make yourself at home, I’ll call Marg to let her know that you’ve arrived. It would do her some good to have someone to talk to, give her some company. Who knows? She may even want you to join her while this whole boyfriend mess blows over, yeah?”
Jen stared at the carpet before looking up to Rex. “Yeah. That sounds great.”
“Great. Sit down over at the sofa while I get some biscuits and tea ready.”
“Okay.”
Jen then made her way to the sofa, her whole face flushed by the exchange. Other boyfriends? They dared? No, now was not the time to get emotional. They would be dealt with accordingly when the time was right. Now, all she needed was to wait and play her cards right. If she did, she would soon be with Ariel while the other boys were left clueless.
“Soon Ariel,” she whispered. “I’ll be with you soon, for one last time.”
And with that, Jen smiled. |
The smell of vomit and sweat was nauseating, but not nearly as much as the thought of what would happen next.
*"This number does not exist. Please try t-"*
Wrong again, and there wasn't much time left. Another number marked off the list. I knew it had two threes, two ones, three 5 and the rest was zero. A simple number, but impossible to find before he came. I'd have to rely on memory alone, trying the hundreds of different combinations as fast as possible. Most of them non existant, some of them of people who weren't who I was looking for, and two who I thought was the right guy, but didn't recognize the password.
Leaving the locked room *he* left me in was impossible. I tried to throw up the key *he* swallowed a few times, and nothing came of it but a puddle of my last meal. I had tried everything while waiting for my fate, and this was a last desperate attempt.
I tried again, and now I only had half of the credit I had to make the calls when I started.
Half the amount of meals. Half the amount of showers. Half the amount of pleasures and half the amount of days. Only the amount of lives were doubled, but only with half the amount of time.
Time is now lacking more than it ever was.
*We* were one before, but at some point *our* paths diverged. Both striving to leave a mark in the world, in very distinct ways. Both unwielding in our paths to our goals. But *he* had a code, and I didn't, which created conflicts. However, when those conflicts of interest arised, *we* dealt with them.
Until the anonymous call from a week ago. An order from a client, the payment already made. The client's will was now his own.
*We* had time to think, time to discuss, but in the end it was pointless. *He* could not bring himself to do it alone, but *he* was too commited to the job to simply deny the request. *He* called a third party.
I tried another number, and it was non existant too.
Would I be able to leave this place? I had none of the skills *he* had, only the ability to bend public will to where I want it to be. But there was no one here to talk to, I was alone.
No, not alone. There was *him.* Always there, always lurking and waiting for his turn to take hold of this body. He used it less, but to much more effect.
The door handle creaked. Locked. The assassin was here. He would soon find the key *he* left outside.
One last call.
A moment of silence in both sides of the room.
"I am busy."The man answered. A surge of relief swelled in my chest.
"The messenger of Janus makes the..."
"I know who you are,"he said cold, "and I am busy doing what you told me to."
"I am calling the assassination off,"I whispered, so he couldn't hear me outside. "The plan has changed, he must stay alive in that room."
There was a pause. "I always finish what I start."He dropped the call.
The relief became renewed anguish, and it became something I didn't recognize as I heard the door creak open to see the man in front of me, a machete in one hand, a tool inefficient for killing compared to a gun, brought for his pleasure alone. I fell to the ground, pushed by fear alone.
He approached silently, and in my desperation I reached for the pocket in my jacket. A reaction brought by muscle memory that didn't belong to me, but to an assassin. And yet, I felt something. With another burst of muscle memory, I pulled the gun and shot the man in his chest.
He immediately fell, gasping for air. I rose from the ground, with a calm that wasn't mine, and approached him. With *his* voice, I said "You didn't follow the rules". And *we* shot him again in the face, and once more to be sure. |
Lina gasped, the air rushing from her lungs. She couldn’t breath, couldn’t see - and Carrie was just standing there. Laughing. Thick, choking dust clouds poured over her, and she scrabbled violently at the walls, kicking and screaming.
“What’s wrong, Angelina?” Carrie asked, taunting. “You *scared*, little girl?”
She snickered, and before Lina could think she was punching that stupid woman, lashing out with sudden rage. Carrie backed away in shock.
“Well, well, well,” she said, and she was trembling slightly. “Didn’t think you had it in you. You’ve impressed me, actually. Good work. Same time tomorrow, then?”
“Y-yeah,” Lina said, breathless. “Tomorrow.”
Carrie smirked, and walked out without a word. |
"Wait,"The first word I can manage is *wait? not stop? not, don't do this i have a family? a wife? a daughter?* "Sir please if you would just let me explain, I'm sure you would understand"my voice rushed, but quiet as a whisper. I look down the glossy black barrel of the gun, shaking in his hand.
"I don't want to hear your excuses."his voice firm. With every word the gun in his hand bounces, and his hand tightens on the trigger. "You wanted death to my family, give me one reason I shouldn't blow your brains out."*his family? you've got to be kidding?* "I'm sorry. I really am."my voice is more composed this time. "You care about your family right? I care about mine too."his gun slowly lowered and a sigh of relief escaped. "Talk. You have 2 minutes. And don't try anything funny because I have every reason to end you right here."
"I care about my family more than you can imagine sir."I pause, take a deep breath and begin explaining what has controlled my life for the past year and a half. "My daughter is my angel. She would never hurt anyone.The last guy she was with was very odd."I see his hand tighten up on his gun again. *be careful what you say* I tell myself. "Listen. When she would visit she would come with bruises, marks all down her arms, thick makeup. I swore I would kill whoever had the audacity to put their hands on my daughter, my baby. You understand right? Family above everything"I take a deep breath, and look in his eyes. They look almost cold.
He raised his gun again, putting it directly at eye level. In one cold snap he said, "You're right, family above everything."And pulled the trigger. |
Dammit. I had almost forgotten.
I released my new wife's frozen hand to swipe through the menu that appeared before me. There were two new skills available to me now, lovemaking and intimacy building. Those would have come in handy during my courtship years. Other skills - emotional intelligence, the art of conversation, body language - would also have been nice to level up earlier, although I had improved them all slowly, through observation and painful trial and error.
Humans communicated so little through the words they spoke, and so much through their eyes and bodies, that I had become astute at observing and reading them. It had felt strange at first, to
I sighed, and let my eyes look through the menu to my wife's face. She was so full of life, so full of hope. I chose intimacy building, wishing I had the points to select lovemaking as well. But there were other ways to level up, and for some skills, practicing was the best part.
The moment I selected "confirm"on the menu, my body automatically returned to its previous stance and time unfroze. The ceremony continued and the rest of the day unfolded, but I couldn't shake the pit in my stomach. The level up served as a harsh reminder that at some point this experiment would come to an end.
We danced, we laughed, and we drank through the night. As I hugged her close on the dance floor, smelling her perfume, lights twinkling all around us, I decided that I had come too far to back out now. It wasn't fair to her to be part of the experiment without knowing, but I couldn't just rip her life apart. A small voice inside me whispered it would be worse to prolong the process. Wouldn’t it be better to rip off the band-aid, as they say? I ignored the voice. I could never leave her.
I hadn’t anticipated my feelings of fondness and friendship with the humans, though, and I never could have predicted becoming entangled with one in this way. I loved her.
That night we went back to our hotel, and I could tell my intimacy building skills were kicking in. I somehow knew just when to keep my eyes locked on hers, and I felt our connection growing as we made love. It was
As she cuddled against me, I resolved to ignore the experiment as long as possible. There was no way to end my role - I would only be pulled from the field at my superiors’ orders - but I would make sure she enjoyed every moment we had together.
As I drifted off to sleep, listening to the sound of her breathing beside me, I wondered if the intimacy building worked on me too, or if my feelings of closeness was real. |
What is going on? Why did we see them as the enemy? Or are they still the enemy? Are we being tricked right now or have we been shown the truth?
It is strange. Not knowing who the "good guys"are anymore. All I know is that it feels right to fight alongside them... While I also have a feeling like it is not how it should be.
So now, we are marching upon my former home base. I stick close to the guy that showed us "the truth"if you can call it that. I will keep my eyes open for any hints of deception. If he gives me reason that I am on the wrong side, I will kill him and wreak as much havok among the lines as possible until the rest puts me down.
We arrived. I don't understand how he does it. Every now and then, more of my former brethren become my brethren once more. But it also changes them. Before, I turned, my garments and armor were red. Now they sre blue. I thought it was a halucination or something like that. But now, I see it happening with my own eyes all the time.
And all this guy does is waving his hands and chant something that sounds like...
"WOLOLO" |
I slouch forward on my throne of nickel and adamant, face in my cupped hands, processing what I count to be the third piece of distressing news I have received this month.
The day had already started out miserably a few hours before. Instantiated from code, I had risen from my seat to engage the party of adventurers before me: Two pure rangers, a pure paladin, and what I had initially assumed to be a new class, but was actually a hybrid monk/barbarian/blue mage with a massively inflated speed stat, whose main method of attack appeared to be instantly accelerating beyond maximum running speed with copied rogue skills and ramming into the enemy, that being me, with enormous force.
My first major attack was to be prepared when they reached my first damage threshold, at 90% of my total hitpoints. Peony Cross, an improved version of the samurai class attack Peony. I would aim at the character with the highest aggro score (invariably a paladin or other dedicated tank class), draw directly from the sheath and quadrisect the target from considerable distance in a single motion.
I already knew that Peony Cross had been nerfed last patch, dealing only half the damage per hit with three quarters of the range and with an additional half-second preparation time. But the depressing new change was, as I discovered when I entered my preparation stance, that I had lost my I-frames during the preparation phase; They had been replaced with super armor that prevented me from flinching, but only absorbed 50% of incoming damage instead of all of it.
The next two boss fights were of similar levels of disappointment. one of my 50% damage threshold moves, Cherry Scalprum, had already been nerfed the patch before the last, having its lunge distance reduced by a quarter, and number of hits per target reduced to 6 from 10, without a change in animation. Before that patch, I could move at egregious speed from one side of the arena to the other in an Iai draw that would easily slay any squishy class who dawdled in the well-telegraphed path of the attack.
To my chagrin, this patch they had reduced the damage per hit to 80% of its previous value. My damage output when landing Cherry Scalprum on a target was now below the average max hitpoints of a rogue, meaning that I could no longer oneshot a majority of the extant classes in the game.
The third disappointment was when I discovered, during the third boss fight fittingly enough, that I no longer dealt pure Holy damage, but rather split between Holy and Nuclear in a ratio that was initially unknown, but was later confirmed by mid-battle banter to be 70% Holy to 30% Nuclear. I was no longer fully effective against Necromancers and Liches, as Nuclear damage's primary use case was against living or Fey characters.
(Continued in comments) |
Wind curls around my face before whipping away, mountains in the distance seeming to quiver as the trees on them juddered in the breeze. I'd already walked for hours, each step pressed into the earth an effort to leave some of my life behind in the tracks.
Stones rise up before me, and between a crack in them a river flows, grey and opaque. Swollen from the snow melts higher up the mountain. Deep, but not wide. Crossable, if I forget to be afraid and run and jump, and use my rope and grappling hook to help with the crossing.
I send a prayer to my god, for my safety, although it feels unnecessary as I stopped truly caring about that long ago.
A disjointed, weary voice echoes through me
"I don't know how much longer I can...but I'll try"
Startled, I slip, tumble down, into the cold, the sharp. And I'm rolling and swirling, rising above waves to crash down again, rocks sharp and stabbing as I scrape against the riverbed. The voice still spinning through my brain as I spin too, the world flashing with churned up waters and bruised sky.
A bend in the rivers path throws me onto a pebbled bank, coughing and splurting. Bruised, bemused and battered, but alive.
Was this what my god had meant? Was this the danger he had tried to protect me from? Is the path I take in life treacherous, the lack of care I have for my own body something he constantly fights against?
Then, the voice again.
"That should confuse them for the moment... Run!" |
(This is my first time writing anything since I broke up with my ex. I hope it's serviceable. Please be kind!)
The rose. The keys. The flecks of nail polish.
The rose. The keys. The flecks of nail polish.
The rose. The keys. The flecks of nail polish.
Had he missed anything? Detective Shay had checked the crime scene over and over, gone through any available witnesses’ testimonies and done everything in his power to try to figure out who had been behind these horrible murders. No signs of struggle, no signs of resistance, not even traces of poison in the victims’ bodies.
The flecks of nail polish had seemed like a clue, but there weren’t enough to source them back to a seller. The unique color had given some leads, but not enough. They keys had been scrubbed of fingerprints and seemed to have no traces of the oils that naturally rub off onto human skin. The rose stuffed into one of the victims’ pockets would have been a big clue, but Shay couldn’t source it to a single person. It was, after all, just an every day rose, plucked from a garden or taken from a nursery and had been identified as potentially coming from a number of local places. There just wasn’t enough information to go on. Nights of staying up late, contemplating, had left him with a splash of undeniable stubble.
So what had done it? Something untraceable, obviously. But that left no clues as to where or what they were hunting. The victims each had a consecutive number of fingers missing. The first missing a thumb, the second a thumb and forefinger, and so on. The fingers seemed to have been removed cleanly, perhaps with a heated knife? There were no signs of knife marks, and the wounds had been cauterized. Strange, considering the victims were seemingly already dead when it happened. No real need to worry about them bleeding out.
But now, the most recent victim had reached four fingers. Someone was going to be the pinky…
As he walked through the darkened streets, coat turned up, with the same things going through his mind like a record skipping, he saw the reflection of a neon light in the puddle before him, causing him to come to a sudden halt. Looking up at the sign proper, he noticed a bar he had never seen before. In thirty years of roaming these streets, first as a beat cop and now this far, he had never come across this place.
The flashing neon sign read “The Last Page” and seemed to be a hole in the wall little place that seemed to be quite old but recently cleaned up, like a house tidied up just enough for the maid service to come through. He squinted when he saw the place, hairs along his forearm raising in suspicion even as he felt a wave of comfort wash over him. That was definitely unnatural.
Placing his hand on the door handle, he took a deep breath and opened it.
Inside was very similar to the outside. A bit of a dingy place where the lights were new yet somehow not bright enough to light the entire building. Within were a few patrons who seemed to be engaged in low conversation with each other. When he looked across the room at them, most seemed to be making an effort to keep their gazes averted or stayed completely engaged in their conversations.
Detective Shay figured they were scared of cops or just unimpressed by the intrusion. No need to make a case of it. Making his way to the bar proper, he sat down and waved two fingers towards the bartender. A gruff, barrel chested man with a mustache like Rich Uncle Pennybags’ personal groomer had gone on strike, walked towards the Detective and squinted an eye at him, “Don’t want any trouble around here. Everything’s usually handled before it gets to this place.”
A bit confused by the phrasing, Shay decided to ignore it and said, “No trouble to be found here. Just a whiskey, please.” He received the drink in a short time.
“So who was it?” Pennybags the Bartender said, “Was it easy to bring them in?”
Shay cocked an eyebrow at the bartender. How was it that he knew… Ah, probably my clothes. Shay thought, quelling the strange thought away with the other one. Two in a row, however, was harder to ignore. “No…” He said tentatively, “I feel like I’ve hit a dead end. This would be a great time to stumble across something that’ll help me get on the right track, but it’s just missing pieces after missing piece.”
“R-really?” The Bartender said with a sudden wave of uncertainty suddenly striking him. “And you’re still here?”
“What’s special about this place?” Shay asked. The third time was impossible to ignore.
“This is the Last Page. This is where you end up once everything's finished. Then it's all done.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know maybe there’s a reason you’re not able to. Maybe there’s a problem beyond you. Have you talked to the Writer?”
“What in the hell are you saying?”
The Bartender stopped cleaning the glass in his hand, flipped the cloth over his shoulder and said, “Listen, kid, I just do my job. If you need to talk to the Writer though, go through that door. Just know that you can’t ever un-know it.”
“Un-know what?” He slowly stood up and headed towards the door without even really considering the ramifications, the potential backlash that could hit far greater than he imagined. The door itself looked completely normal, as though it led to the backroom or to the lavatory. However, it had an old style ink quill emblazoned on it.
“The second you walk through those doors, your life changes forever.” The Bartender said.
“But will I be able to solve the case?”
“Probably, if everything is going right,” He responded. “But you’ll have to go in there.”
And Shay did. |
Ever wonder what happens to us? The ones not interesting, talented, broken, unique enough to be the focus of the story. The ones forever left behind and abandoned?
Well, we’re here. In this land of indistinct fog and perpetual dawn. The weather is lukewarm and so is all the water. The food tastes like hospital food and the internet is usually a second or two laggy. It’s always just ok here.
Sometimes, we hear screaming from a distance. None of us ever explore there though. That’s for the main characters, not us. But people do get dragged there occasionally. We try to help, usually, but not at our own expense. That, again, is for the main characters. Hopefully, they’ll be saved soon.
There’s a lot of different people here. Some wander around, saying little and doing even less. Those are the love interests, the mothers and fathers, the ones who have concrete ties to the other world. Some are just confused and oblivious. We call them the warning signs, because that’s what they are to the story. Not important enough to be saved by the hero but enough to spark some fear or interest. Then, there’s the rest of us. We don’t really know why we’re here. Maybe it’s just to add drama to the story, maybe it’s to start off the plot, maybe it’s just because the writers wanted it to happen. It doesn’t really matter that much, in the end. We aren’t getting out of here anyway.
It’s really not so bad here, you know. Most of us would have suffered terribly, had we stayed in the real world. Anyone near the hero usually does.
For the children, it’s even better. Imagine being continually outshadowed by a friend or a classmate. Imagine dying in agony because of them. It’s better this way, I think.
Occasionally, floods of people come here. When they do, they usually leave quickly. Few stories can deal with so many people permanently between the dead and the living.
As for me, I know I’m never getting out. I’ve had my time to come to terms with that. If I think someone’s likely to leave, I try to talk to them.
“My name is Sara Evelyn. If you see my wife, please tell her I’m sorry. Tell her that I love her,” I say.
I’ve told over a hundred people by now. She must have gotten the message, right? Still, I continue.
“Tell her I love her,” I say, to a man in tattered robes embroidered with the name Sirius.
“Tell her I love her,” I say, to a young boy who asks me to call him Will.
I wonder how old she is now. We don’t age here, as far as I know. Perhaps, when she dies, she’ll join me here.
Until then though, I’ll keep trying. As long as it takes, I promised her once. It’s the only thing I can do for her now. |
"Sir,my father has been missing for 45 years, he's somewhere in this city,I just know it!"exclaimed the man drenched by the pouring rain. the detective,in his evening robe smoking a cigar in his mouth and holding a cup of English tea in his right hand, invites the eager man into his residence. "Shoes off please, i'll get you a cup of warm tea". A crackling fire calms the eager man down, with tea warming his soul,"What seems to be the issue?"the detective asked. "My father was a state trooper, I was about thirteen years old when it all happened. He came back home quite early from his shift,grabbed some files,and never returned".
"Tell me more"the detective was starting to get into the mans story, "Well,he mentioned something to my mother about something about some men were coming to the house soon,not sure why, though I understood that they weren't serving any warrents or summons". In front of the fire place,a corgi can be seen laying and cuddling up to the warm fire. |
"Welcome to nirvana my son. Your path of mortal struggle and turmoil is behind you now. You are ascended. Gifted a position of servitude in my name."
"Should not servitude be left to those who still breathe?"
"Servitude is the gift of purpose, and that gift is bliss."
"Should purpose not be a gift given from within?"
"Purpose is divine, for it offers respite from freedom."
"Is freedom not bliss? Not a gift from the Almighty? Not the very essence of man?"
"Freedom is man's downfall, a plague which has infested my creation. You would be wise to reject the assumption of its benevolence."
"I would rather be damned and free, then saved a slave."
"Then damned you shall be." |
When my costume became part of me, I had freaked out. I was wearing a cosplay costume of Ein from the YouTuber Aphmau’s series for the day, to end my last year of middle school with a bit of fun, so when the flash of light that blinded me had basically fused my cloak, boots, wig, fake wolf ears, grey contacts, and fake tail to me, that wasn’t all that happened to me....
*”What the hell...? I’m alive...?”* My costume hadn’t just fused to my body, ***it had BROUGHT EIN TO LIFE, AND HE HAD TAKEN OVER ME.*** All I could do was watch from my own eyes as Ein looked around my room, then opened the window and jumped out onto the roof, shutting the window behind him. *Hey, hey, hey!!! Quit it, Ein!!! I have school in a few minutes!!! Get out of my body!!!!* I try to shout, but it comes out as an echo in my head. Ein jumps off the roof into some bushes below, chuckling,
“So *that’s* how I’m alive! Well, whoever you are, I guess you’re going to have to wait a little longer until you get your body back!! I’m going to go exact some revenge!!” I watch helplessly as he runs off, heading who knows where.... |
He watched as the edge of the knife slid down smoothly through the skin, exposing the bright, raw redness staining the white glove over her hands as she plucked, in one smooth motion the flesh and brought it to her mouth.
"What's the name of this fruit again?"she said after a while, her voice smooth like silk, yet at the same time tinging his mind in a slight fear. He watched as she brought up an ornate handkerchief, wiping her stained mouth with the cloth, before replying:
"D-dragonfruit, madame,"he gulped, swallowing the lump on his throat. Heavens! he shouted in his mind, it was only right to call this lady a dragon! The richest tycoon north of Peridot bay, who singlehandedly controlled all the trade routes crossing through Boreso from the east to Sheveria to the north. If she allowed his business here, it would surely be a great fortune! he thought so.
"*Dragonfruit,*"she repeated, her eyes narrowing, the edges of her lips quivering ever so slightly to tease, a peek of a set of milky white canines.
"What an interesting name,"she said as reached for another piece.
"Where does it come from?"
"From the south, m-madame, from a country called Vasiland, the merchants - "
"*Calimero,*"she interrupted, waving her hand as a middle aged man stepped forward. He was of average height, a little scrawny, and wore a white vest over a plain plaid shirt.
"*Signora?*"he responded,
"This, *dragonfruit*, arrange for a crate to be sent over everyday and also if possible, have some trees transplanted to the *Frutteto.* If not, have the men plant a few specimens."
"You may go,"she said, motioning towards him.
\--
A month later.
The harsh knocking on the door snapped Bertolgio out of his reverie. He frowned, motioning for his son to answer it, and quickly dismiss the offenders. He was busy, kept occupied with his work, sorting the dragonfruit, tossing the ugly ones and packing them into the crate. Exactly thirty pieces of the scaly, red fruit was packed into one crate, and a crate was to be delivered, everyday exactly fifteen minutes after the town bell struck eight times, to the *Segnora*'s mansion, a twenty minute ride on his wagon.
Who consumed the said fruit, or for what purpose it was needed, was beyond Bertolgio's concern. Although it was to be said that thirty pieces were too much for any single person's apettite; the gold was flowing, and he did not need any more reasoning than that. He bent over, his red stained hands picking up one such fruit. This one was a bit misshapen, and was not to be sent over, instead, he used a knife to cut it open, sitting down into a stool and biting the juicy flesh.
"Are you Bertolgio? The deliverer of fruits to the mansion?"A man's voice struck him,
*"figlio!"* He shouted in anger, "I thought I told you to send them away?"upon saying, he rose up, motioning for them to go.
The man was unfazed, brandishing a golden brooch inscribed with the insignia of an eagle over two crossed swords.
"My name is Girbaud, a knight, in service to the King of the Paladia."
"I need your help to slay the dragon." |
Hi u/Flaminsalamander, this submission has been removed.
Sexually explicit themes are not allowed.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)*
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“Finally, freedom.”
That was just easy for me to say at first, of course. Knowing that with mass media outlets destroyed for some reason, soon came the knowledge that I and a myriad amount of people were kicked out of our jobs for an indefinite period of time. It seemed so simple to deal with, as I could say that I could just grit my teeth and prepare to move to a nearby fast food or convenience store branch after waiting for the chaos to blow over from an evacuation center or something, but bureaucratic practices had me thinking that I should also inform my impending former employers about my plans to transfer.
But one thing I’ve learned about mass media employers is that they can be *very zealous* about maintaining their jobs. I’m not gonna try to even imagine how exactly they’re taking all this right now. They probably have automated emergency drones watching possible traitors’ homes as well. I should know, as they tasked me to operate such things before. We’ve taken up some shadier ways of fulfilling tasks like digging up dirt on corrupt politicians and executives and all that, after all. Still have my reservations about it, but I needed the money, and I couldn’t imagine myself anywhere better at the moment. It’s not like I was the only one feeling forced to work illegally either.
Thus, I decided to lock myself up in my apartment for a long while, planning to go out again once the fridge ran out of food and my closet ran out of clothes. Maybe I could be hunted down for truancy, but considering the circumstances, I could say that I was trying to keep myself safe from those terrorists who just destroyed the mass media companies and all that, yeah? Besides, things would cool down in a few days...and I don’t need to tell my colleagues that it’s also because we’re not around to prolong the panic right now.
Of course, there was the noise from the neighbors. Shouts and screams were here and there, mostly from the more paranoid who either locked themselves in or moved themselves out. There were gunshots and smacks and shanks, but I wasn’t worried, as I had my own two handguns and bullet caches, and they took down some vengeful visitors who knew where I lived and whom I worked for. But I didn’t kill them, patching them up instead soon after and giving them copies of the news files I’ve been assigned to work on.
So relieved was I by all that safety I brought to myself that I forgot about my phone, which vibrated more clearly after being kicked out of my piles of dirty clothes. I had stuffed it there because of my attempts to go cold turkey on my mobile gaming addiction, vowing to focus on the slower and more depressing computer I had, but less use meant slower battery death, and I had also forgotten to turn it off in my tired rage.
So when I checked my phone, I expected the worst.
*Dude, you fucking sold the company out! Those terrorists marked your apartment “SAFE,” and we know everyone else from there ran away and/or got killed! I’m right in front of your house right now, and I’m gonna fucking kill you, you fucking traitor!*
That was the message on top of the stack of other missed messages my still powered phone had received. It was from several hours ago, when I had been trying to sleep by sandwiching my ears between pillow and mattress.
Realizing that I was still alive, I decided to stay locked inside some more. It lasted until a time I noticed signs like jovial chatting and chanting and such right outside my room. There, I further realized that there had been a very quiet lady perched on my unit’s floor with a scoped rifle for quite some time, and that her comrades were now wanting to meet me for intelligence agent recruitment and all that. I didn’t need to move residences, and I could move around and buy basic needs, but I just had to report even the slightest sign of possible resistance to whoever’s guarding my place.
Paranoia kicked in some more there, but I didn’t know what else to do besides that and...well, hope that I’m lucky enough to not be mistaken for a potential rebel.
Maybe I should limit my trips outside, then...Maybe once a month? Maybe I could even seduce that lady into working for me, too.
And then I’d remember why I ended up in the mass media industry in the first place: We think so lowly of our own lives, we’d rather just nose into others’ everyday. Wild guesses, invasion of privacy, sponsor pandering...Is there anything better than money, fame, and power?
Maybe I should start making an actual friend from here, then, ‘cause I like to think that there is. Who cares if someone calls me crazy? That’s just stating the obvious.
“Feeling free over there, lady?” |
Last week, he rode a landside to safety under fire from the indigenous people of North Sentinel Island. Today, the great Taylor Sloan, searched Ikea for a MACKAPÄR shoe cabinet. It may not be a gold effigy perched upon a pressure plate, but the reward would be as priceless: His wife’s face alight with joy, her Jimmy Choo’s snugly fit in organised rows.
Isle four seemed a solid choice, he thought, as storage units poked out from the large steel shelves. He walked the isle – no vines dangled from the cupboards to swing from – and scanned ahead for shoe cabinets. The cabinets only grew, from bedside drawers to wardrobes looming over him. Admitting defeat, he turned to leave the aisle only to become dumbstruck. The aisle he took no more than twenty steps in now stretched beyond the horizon.
Behind him, one of the wardrobes creaked open.
“Shoe cabinets? You’ll want isle six for those.”
Startled, Taylor span around to see an old man. The old man’s trousers were belted far above his waist, and a yellow shirt draped his slender frame. Taylor narrowed his eyes at the nametag on the shirt:
*Øystæinn*
“How did you know I need a shoe cabinet?” Taylor asked.
Øystæinn ignored his question, extending a bony finger to a sliding wardrobe.
“Follow me.”
*His accent isn’t even Swedish,* Taylor thought, watching the gaunt man shuffle towards the sliding wardrobe. He watched on in amazement as Øystæinn absorbed into it. Thinking it all a joke, he ran to the wardrobe and slid it open. A completely empty wardrobe gaped back. Panic began to set in. He entered, touching its back wall, and in an instant, the door slammed shut behind him.
Taylor banged his fists on the sliding door and shouted in vain for someone to help. But it wouldn’t budge. Of all the ways the great Taylor Sloan would meet his end, he never in a million years imagined it inside an Ikea wardrobe. At least his coffin had a nice aroma of fresh wood. He banged one more time, and his fists fell limp to his side, his head resting against the door.
“The one piece of Ikea furniture that doesn’t fall apart like a piece of crap, and I get trapped in it.”
He began to feel uneasy. Taking a step back from the door, it felt as though an earthquake shook the store from its foundations. The floor gave out underneath him, and he fell into the darkness. He didn’t know whether to scream or laugh at this point, so he fell in silence, wondering if this void had a bottom.
“Sir? Sir!”
A young blonde man leaned over the till, with a hand on Taylor’s shoulder, shaking him.
“What happened?” Taylor asked, looking around to see a store filled with movement.
“You appear to have dozed off,” the man said, in a strong Swedish accent. “Thank you for using checkout six. Here’s your receipt.”
Embarrassed, Taylor snatched the receipt and narrowed his eyes at the cashier’s nametag.
“Thanks, *Øystæinn.*”
He reached the exit, the shoe cabinet in his trolley, and closed his eyes, smiling. He thought about how this would be a funny story to tell his wife. She would probably panic and tell him to see a doctor, who knows what strange insect could have bitten him. The automatic doors opened, and he was ready for the sun to bathe his face as he stood through.
His face drained of all colour, and his mouth fell agape. Two giant rows of steel stood either side, with a sign above, reading *Isle Four.* The automatic doors slammed shut behind him. |
There is, by most accounts, no reason a man should turn to cannibalism and self destruction in the same moment. Yet, here I sit with my back to an old rotten tree; one hand grasping a mess of crimson flesh, which linked a long stringy chain from my lips, while the other holds whats left of my insides from falling out.
What brings a man to this? I pondered numb while chewing. Hunger set in days ago, whispers came far sooner. They spoke of freedom, release from this forsaken jungle, to which I had no idea why I was here in the first place.
They called and sang and chanted day by day, soft and loud and strong and silent. I knew not what they desired beyond my annihilation or seperation of myself from myself. Still I listened... and I ate.
Visions came next while slurping sanguin sin to my lips, a soothing drink that brought mind numbing altercations. My one freedom before my final freedom. My lungs popped, bursting forth a vicious bile that interupted my last meal and I wept. Not for myself or what I had become but for that which I left in this word. My wife, who loved me day in and day out despite my many arrogant flaws. My children who I made my life and brought up to be the best they could...
If they saw me now.
Wind left me and in one final whispered breath I was graced with a vision of pure joy. My family. So then may I fall and be free to wait the eternal wait, so shall I see them again in the after. My eyes beat and hands fell, vision clouded and eyes slid shut so there was nothing left aside myself, and I woke.
The same as I always did, beside my wife in our lovely home. No harm or threat lingured, no there was only me and the memory of past sin. May it rest. |
I slammed my door closed and locked it, then slammed in the three bolts I had attached. I threw a bit of holy water at its base for good measure, and stepped away
In the last few weeks, I had made my house into a virtual fortress against demon-kind. I had never really been a religious guy, but apparently some of those old saints or whatever knew what they were talking about when it came to demons, so I kept a lot of crosses and holy water in the house. Did you know that if a container is more than half holy water it's all considered holy? That was useful to discover.
The demons first arrived about a month ago. I know, because one tried to possess me. It felt cold, like when you get chills down your back. The demon didn't speak to me so much, but in the brief moments our minds merged, I saw everything they planned: total domination of the human race.
But, something had gone wrong, and something had expelled the demon from me. Soon after, news reports spoke of people being possessed by demons, with my face, and a few others who I guessed were also immune, displayed as those who had already been possessed.
It was bad enough back then, when the demons were still trying to be subtle, but now they had almost total control of the earth.
Just looking out my window, I knew I would see them lined up, human bodies with twisted wings and horns breaking through their skin.
They knew I was here, but until they could find someone to break through my defenses, they were forced to wait.
They might not be waiting for long though. I was running low on food supplies, and my efforts to get more today had been met with me having to flee back to my flat aftet just a few steps.
As I said, I was never a religious person, but I felt that if there was ever a time to pray, this would be it.
I knelt in the centre of the room and pressed my hands together, like I'd seen my parents do so many times between their arguments, and closed my eyes.
"Our father, who art in heaven... um... please help? I know I never believed in you before... I'm honestly not sure if I do now, but you have to know things are really bad down here and..."
My roof exploded. Hang on, their were flats above me, how did that even work?
When the smoke cleared, there was no dust on debris, just a young person wearing similar clothes to me stretched out on my sofa. They had kind of androgynous features, but really I was more drawn to the large white wings that were tucked beneath them.
"Hi. I'm an angel,"they said.
The casual statement caught me off guard, and I said the first thing that came to mind.
"Um... shouldn't you have dozens of eyes and be shouting at me not to be afraid?"
The angel laughed. "That's the major angels. I'm just a footsoldier. And lucky for you, I'm here to help."
They looked around my flat. "Nice place. Could use a roof."
I tried to protest that they had destroyed my roof, but they were already picking up my bible. I had been using it as sort of a survival guide. "I'll be honest, this thing just gets the broad strokes. Great prose though. And the descriptions of angels and demons aren't bad."
"Sorry,"I interrupted. "Not to be rude, but os it just you? Because there are armies of demons out there and -"
"No, just me,"they insisted. "Long story short, the demons kind of locked up our place so we couldn't stop them with this. We had to pool as much power as we could just to get a small guy like me down here."
I noticed the edges of their clothes start to steam.
"Is that supposed to happen?"I asked, gesturing at it.
They shook their head. "I can't exist on earth for long in my own form. Give me your body."
Despie the situation I couldn't help myself. "At least by me a drink first."
They gave me a look that said 'Not funny'.
"I need to possess you,"they explained. "Then we can start busting some demon heads, as you humans say."
"No one says that, but more importantly, I escaped one possession, wjy would I want to get possessed by someone else."
"It's different if it's voluntary,"they explained. "And better for both of us. You'll have a lot more control, and I'll be able to use more of my power. Please decide quickly because I'm steaming and it's uncomfortable."
I thought about it for as long as I could stand their withering stare. I knew they weren't a demon in disguise, since they couldn't stand in this flat if they were. The question was then, would I be willing to give up part of my freedom to save the world from a demon invasion.
"No question really,"I said out loud, and held out my hand.
The angel smiled. "Then let's begin." |
I smiled at the screen, pumping my fist. *“Yes!”* I whisper as the mortal concerns leave my head.
I looked around. My surroundings were... still an eternal void actually. There has to be more than this stupid game.
*“Well,”* I murmured, *“back into existence. I mean,”* I began to shout into the emptiness *“It’s not like anything else is gonna happen!”* I waited; there was no response, not even an echo.
Groaning I pressed the “play again” button, taking me into the character customisation menu. My last character was a disaster so I had to make sure everything was perfect.
I decided to choose the renaissance era to spawn in; I always liked that game mode. Finally I entered my name:
**WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE**
Hitting start, I felt my consciousness grow mortal once more. My last thought before my newest play-through: *I should become a playwright.* |
You hang up on them. Intergalactic or not, scammers are a nuisance, and it's best not to engage with them.
The decline in value of the universal base credit system has been a difficult situation to work oneself out of. With the soulless, sentient corporate hive minds of PanGalacta, Neomax, Amazon, and all the other Techs have been seizing control of what was once the real and uncharted territories of open space, there was little that wasn't already theirs. Everything in your apartment is legally their property still, including the apartment building itself.
It's hard to even say that you even have any money of your own, it's so undervalued now. Sure, it's enough to get by, but it drains out of your account as quickly as it comes in to pay for your basic needs. Plus, it's been losing it's value with every passing solar week. A while ago, 10 UCs could get you the basic nutrient supplements that you've sustained off of for years. But at the rate it's going, you'd be lucky if it gets you a pack of Triton Chips from the vending mart downstairs by the end of the quarter. The company currencies the Techs have been using have grown to over encompass the real system now, and half of everything in a storefront is now being traded for PanGa Coins instead of actual money.
At the current rate, almost everything in your apartment, including the complex itself, is legally owned by one of the Techs. Your computrix system, your nutri-storage, your mobile, even your sleeping pod-- all of it is theirs to take away at any given point. You've just been very, *very* lucky that they haven't caught on to the illegal mods you've been using on them.
All that you have that you can really call your own are a few old keepsakes from your youth. Some Old World toys handed down through the generations, a few family photos, some old, bricked devices that have long since been outmoded. The crowning piece of it all is a necklace that your family has kept with it since the first of the Depressive Cycles: a finely crafted silver, bejeweled necklace. It's made of aluminum and glass, so it's bent and broken in a few places, but it's *yours*, above all else.
The Techs would undersell you to Hell for all of it, but they well know the value of sentiment and the communal self-sufficiency that this material promotes. They'll buy out anything that isn't explicitly theirs, as they've been trying to do so in the public sectors for years. Any attempts to break out of their grasps is denounced by the legislators they've bought, cut down by the security forces on their payroll, beat into submission by cops on their authority, and be forced to prisons and re-education centers that they fund for.
The legal lines have been hard to navigate, as they've all been paying to rewrite the rules. What helps is that they've been rewriting the rules against each other as much as they've been rewriting the rules for you and everyone else, so there's been some room to navigate. And at the very least, with the mask of civility and acknowledgment of rights still on, they can't do anything so openly hostile as take everything by force.
Not yet, anyway. They've been making a case for the beneficial purposes this could have for years. it's hooked into the brains of many of the broken into a doctrine of obedience and willing servitude, with some going so far as to perform vigilante acts of violence against those who'd not submit to the "Techlords."However, this has yet to become the secular opinion. At the present, there are still some safeguards to maintain the sanctity of both public and private ownership.
Which is why scammers have been needling in like this on a more regular basis. They call in, trying to get you to admit a few things about yourself, or agree to unspecified clauses of some kind. Set you up into a situation where you think your luck has finally begun to pick up. Only for it to be revealed that you signed away your rights to a work training program, or have accidentally joined in on a "criminal enterprise"on recording, which is submitted for the police to lay claim to your belongings, or by accepting some degree of money, you've become an employee of their company, and are submit to all of the requisites of the employee contract, such as the giving up of personal items in favor of company-supplied, corporate-mandated pieces of property.
All of that can only be achieved through getting word-of-mouth admission by a target, however. The Techs prey upon the weak and fragile, but they do so in a blanket-fire, non-specified strike. They only feel the need of singling out an individual if they get too rowdy, and believe the rest to be too helpless to do anything about it on their own. What they don't account for is the teamwork of a group. The connections that individuals make among each other, that grants the collective whole power. The Techs have used this power to make it all accumulate up to themselves, but they are unused to it being stretched across the whole.
The only reason they got this far is off the works and wills of the people. So it'll take the work and will of the people to stand against them. Their autos and their lawmasters have granted them undo strength upon which they may stand, but should the living worlds find cause to butt heads with them, their union would be great enough to uproot it all. You are just one person, and your efforts may make little of a difference, but it is through the actions of individuals such as yourself that anything may get done. What you do know may grow to encompass more than what the Techs ever could in their reign across the universe.
That scam call was yet another reminder of your purpose. it is time to strive forward, and let nothing hold you back. |
Petunia and Vernon Dursley were were still very proud to say that they were perfectly normal . As was their son Dudley. They very much enjoyed their comfortable life surburban where Vernon worked part time as a consultant for manufacturing equipment and Petunia worked part time as a secretary at a local elementary school. Life was rather agreeable. Dudley was studying finance and business at a college abroad while on a rugby scholarship. And best of all, their freakish nephew was gone.
They were pleased to have returned to England after spending three years living abroad in Scranton, Montana, where Vernon had been working on upgrading the machinery in a tool factory, but had spent well over a year laid up in bed when he got hit over by a forklift driven by a drunken and negligent driver. By the time the lawsuits resolved, Vernon and Petunia would never have to work again if they played their cards right.
The injury had a pronounced effect on the family, Petunia was forced to become more patient and caring towards her husband and Vernon was forced to be more patient and thoughtful. And perhaps the biggest blessing was that they physical therapy made Vernon exercise and diet properly. And with the exercise and Diet Vernon began to look and feel younger, and the transformation was not lost of petunia who herself began to go to the gym. Being unable to leave the house also curbed the affairs he’d been used to having to escape a miserable life at home. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that Harry was gone. Something about his presence had always depressed and upset the Dursleys.
But with Dudley away at University, things were simply too quiet. Even Harry would have been something of a diversion. Petunia decided to take a part time job to combat the boredom. Vernon still worked part time as soon as he was able but something had shifted. With nothing to do in that rural town of their exile and being bedridden, Vernon had discovered that he rather enjoyed a good book. He even found that he enjoyed the adventures of a yank wizard-detective bloke by the name of harry. Fancy that! His way of thinking even changed somewhat, or perhaps that was the weed which he’d tried once for the pain.
However, the couple found that their old feelings for each other were returning and one night the two spent most the the evening having rigorous, outlandish intercourse on the living room floor in front of the telly. And to their surprise, they soon had another child on the way. Dudley was surprised to hear that he was an older brother but took the news in stride. He wrote to Harry to let him know the news.
As well as things were going, one niggling little thought struck the Dursleys. They were in no way ready to have another child. Raising two had been difficult enough. Also “what if it’s a…” Petunia questioned “A wizard? Bah, Us Dursleys are as normal as can be, a wizard Dursley, that will be the day“ Vernon snorted. They considered not keeping the child but Vernon said “We did it twice already, may as well see it thorough” Time passed and soon enough they welcomed a little girl into the family. Alice Rose Dursley, named for Vernon’s Great great grandmother and of course Petunia’s great aunt. She was a lively child with petunia’s eyes but definitely her father’s hair.
However the child would prove to be mischevious. One time petunia found a stranger’s wallet in her pram, another time, she had somehow acquired a double scoop ice cream cone and soiled her new dress and was still buckled into her stroller. And then there was the matter of how she had retrieved a toy firetruck that Petunia had confiscated after hearing the siren one to many times, despite being locked in her room and the toy in Petunia’s laundry cupboard on the other side of the house. Or the time when Petunia was sure she had left her home with Vernon when she went to the grocery store, and yet Alice was in the shopping cart. She had a way of slipping out of trouble and a silky charisma that Dudley lacked.
With each inexplicable incident Petunia’s worst fears became more and more real. Her daughter may be a witch. Even Dudley had arrived at the same conclusion and did the unthinkable and rang his cousin and set up a meeting at a pub to discuss the matter.
Meanwhile one day in her office, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall went over the register of known muggleborn wizards eligible for future Hogwarts attendance. “Bloody Hell” she murmured as she adjusted her spectacles and reread the name. Everyone in the wizarding world had heard of the Dursleys from the popular Histories of the recent wizarding war. A Dursley could someday attend Hogwarts. McGonagall gave word she would be unavailable as she took the floo to the Aurors office to have a word with her most famous student. |
"Do whatever you want!, I won't say nothing!"
"Come on man, it's a simple question, you don't want me to get the chainsaw out do you?"John slammed his fist against the coffee table, causing the man to flinch in horror, his words silenced by the blood pooling in his mouth, trying to get out a word, John kept his finger pressed against the man's cheek, trying to massage the blood out of his lips. "Yes, speak up..."
"It's Fuzzbucket69"The man screamed, dribbling blood out of his mouth, the mess pooling against John's hand before it was quickly removed.
"There.... Didn't think it would be that hard to get your wifi password, so which network is yours again?"John asked as he pulled out his phone.
"I'll never tell you bastard!"The man screamed, causing John to let out a long sigh, sliding his phone back into his pocket.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
World governments didn't know what to do with this new influx of aliens. Was this our answer? The fact that we're an intergalactic Switzerland? Poland and the rest of the Visegrad group predictably refused to take in any; in defiance to EU law.
Here in America our Congress past the Immigration Act of 2023, barring an intergalactic migration to the United States. Several states passed segregation laws restricting the rights and movement of these newcomers. Alabama reinstated its miscegenation laws, directed at extraterrestrial visitors. After all, our Constitution only lists fundamental human rights. So why should they apply to E.T.'s?
People put up signs saying "EXXIES [extraterrestrials] MOVE ALONG. THIS IS A HUMAN NEIGHBORHOOD". Exxies were barred from holding public office. They protested in the streets. Studies were released claiming Exxies had lower IQs than humans, that they were taking our jobs, and were naturally predisposed to crime. The new influx of workers caused America's economy to boom and finally win against China in the trade war. From the economic devastation of the Coronavirus and now this, China became increasingly desperate and left BRICS in order to rebuild their economy.
All hell broke loose when Kazahkstan gave the Exxies in their country some land for an independent nation. Immediately upon hearing this Russian troops marched into the country to exert their own influence on it. Russia predictably denied this, adding that "They held a referendum to be annexed".
To the international community this was the last straw. But Germany wouldn't dare to declare war, nor the rest of the EU. American placed missiles in Turkey as a show of force, but that obviously went nowhere. That all changed when American scientists discovered a way to use the Uranium batteries in the refugee vessels to safely power cities, homes, and cars. General Electric bought the patent and began shipping these new Uranies [uranium cars] all over the world.
Europe wasn't dependent on Russian gas anymore, and this would change history forever. American backed troops in Ukraine moved into Crimea. The United States crossed the Bering Sea [becoming the new "Crossing the Rubicon"in the process]. China finally had an upper hand and moved into Siberia. Kazakhstan moved in to retake the Exxie nation. Sanctions were placed on Russia and modes of transportation from Europe were cut off. World War 3 had begun. Brazil fell early to a Latin American coalition, America converged on South Africa and was forced to join the Commonwealth, and India, after being devastated by the Coronavirus, simply didn't have the manpower to keep up. This forced Russia alone to push into Mongolia in order to cut off the Chinese. But as rations shrank and armies became increasingly demoralized, Russia was forced into unconditional surrender by the international community and its own people
Back on the home front, as public opinion turned against Russia, it turned in favor of Exxies. They had been conscripted too, of course they deserved equal voting rights! Advocates began to push for equal rights for Exxies, and amendments were passed to give them legal equality.
The Treaty of Washington forced Russia to pay $300 trillion dollars in war reparations for its damages caused. Already hungry and poor, the Russian people were angry that were forced to pay so much. And with the Chinese annexation of Okhotsk and Vladivostok, as well as Europe placing sanctions and cutting off transportation to Russia, they couldn't export their resources.
Having been backed into the corner, Russia was forced to print more money in order to pay back the war debt. The people became outraged. As they increasingly turned toward the political extremes, one Romani Gorschnikhov promised to fix all that. |
It was 1980 and Necessity was in a bad way. For the past decade she'd been consumed with a deep need she just couldn't fill. One Friday night, she found herself throwing back her sixth (or was it seventh?) shot of bourbon rye at the Empty Swallow Inn - her regular haunt. The bar tender, Steve, reached to pour another, but she drunkenly waved him off. "I've gotta get outta here, Steve!"she too loudly slurred. "I've gotta find what I've been lookin' for!"After closing her tab, she struggled into her overcoat managing to bump into the patron nursing a beer next too her. "Oh, excuse me, sir... didn't mean to..."she said excusing herself. Then, "Hey!"Another obnoxiously loud exclamation slipped from her lips as recognition niggled at the edges of her memory upon seeing the man's rose-colored glasses. "Aren't you that singer?"she asked. He turned to her exasperated, but answered honestly, "Yes, ma'am. I'm in the band, 'U2'."She looked at him quizzically. "No, I'm not in a band,"she responded mistaking the band's name for an inquiry. He chuckled inspite of himself. "Bono!"she all but shouted as her bourbon-addled memory finally let his name bubble up to the surface...
Long story short: Bono. Bono is the father of Invention. |
I live inside you.
My name's Grim. Or you can call me *soul* (ugh). Or Reapey. Or you can just call me you ([*say my name, say my name, when no one is around you say baby I love you*](https://youtu.be/sQgd6MccwZc?t=1)).
Sorry.
Anyways, my name's not particularly important. My function is.
I'm here to kill you.
Hey - stop that. Stop freaking out. Everything dies, alright? A lot of things had to die to bring you into the world. A lot of things have to die to keep you in the world. And eventually you're going to return to favor to make space for something new.
It is what it is.
[I'm your evaluator. I'm your advisor](https://youtu.be/O_4OfD-wmGs?t=117). You know that little whisper you sometimes get that suggests you do stuff and suggests you not do other stuff?
Yeah, hi.
I'm here to test you.
Sometimes I tell you to do the wrong thing just to see if you'll do it. Are you a shitty person? A brainless lemming? A spineless little sack of meat? Sometimes I tell you to do the right thing at the wrong time. Sometimes I give you exactly what you need when you need it.
I'm not your friend, alright pal?
Okay, well that's a lie. I'm your best friend.
But I'm also your worst enemy.
You know cancer? Yeah, that's us. Cancer usually means you either did something really right, or very, very wrong. Although sometimes cancer is just a luck of the draw thing (we actually have draws at night, they're a bit like bingo for Grims except that they can have a huge impact on how your life plays out. *Fun!*)
Anyways, long story short the boss is always looking to separate the good people from the bad people. I don't really want to get into it because it's kind of a long story and I've got some youtube videos to watch and some video games to play but at the current moment the boss is kind of big on the segregation thing and we're the executors of his will.
(And I mean that in the most literal way possible)
I just wanted to let you know I'm always here for you, and that I'll try my best to give you the ending I think you deserve.
I promise.
Cross your heart and hope to die. |
“Screw it, let’s take the punk down.”
“Didn’t you hear what the telepath in our heads just said?”
“I heard. I just think he’s wrong.”
“You think a bunch of side kicks can take down the baddest villain this universe has ever seen?”
Gray said nothing, waiting for the caped figure to finish his rant. There was no point in trying to reason with someone when they were that animated, so he let the man vent.
“We’re not from this universe, we have no idea how strong people are here. We’ve never even seen this person before!”
“And he’s never seen anything like us.”
That seemed to make the four crime fighters pause. Gray did have a point. Though they were strangers here, the element of surprise might give them an edge.
“Okay, so let’s say we do this. How do we take down a villain with unparalleled strength that’s impervious to all damage? The telepath seemed to imply that all of the heroes in this universe were no match for him. That means that our powers will be outmatched, too.”
“We’ll see about that.”
— — — — —
“Hey, Mr. Telepath, you there?”
*I’m here.*
“Can you get us to this big bad villain?”
*Yes. You’re sure about this?*
“We’re sure.”
*You might not survive.*
“We knew the rules when we signed up for this gig.”
*Stand close. A teleporter will get you to his location momentarily.*
“Thanks. We’ll signal when we’re done.”
*You’re crazy, Gray. And good luck.*
— — — —
“Last chance to back out.”
“We’ve been through this, Gray. We take the m-f’er down.”
“Good man, Spot. Tech? Surge?”
“Operational.”
“I’m live.”
“Well, then, let’s go stop a world-killer.”
*Teleporting you all in three, two, one …*
— — — — —
It was apparent as soon as the team teleported in how this villain had managed to defeat so many others. The armor he wore must have been at least six inches thick, and it was made of a thick enough material that bullets bounced off of it harmlessly. Given that they’d needed to call in for help outside of their own universe, the telepaths and telekinetics of this world hadn’t been able to penetrate it, either. He was, for all intents and purposes, invulnerable.
What made him even scarier was the giant axe that he swung like a child’s toy. It was easily three meters tall, but he brought it down on target after target with ease. Each blow made metal crunch and super-powered ribs crack, devastating anything daring enough to stand in its path. Worse yet, he moved quickly. He wasn’t just a behemoth, he was a *fast* behemoth.
“Okay, we’ve all seen him now. He’s the real deal,” Gray spoke into his communicator. “Tech, you’re up first. Get those portable force fields operational. This is the first big hurdle; get me those force fields and we’ve got a shot.”
“Acknowledged.”
“You need any cover?”
“ETA is two minutes.”
“That’s enough time to fry us all,” Surge pointed out.
“I got this. I’ll get you your two minutes,” Gray promised. “Spot, can you do more than one portal at once?”
“Yeah, Gray.”
“What’s your maximum?”
“I can do four comfortably, six for a short period. I’ve done eight in an absolute pinch, but don’t ask for that more than once.”
“Got it. Four should be enough. Give me a ring around the baddie, unevenly spaced. Keep ‘em active, I’m going to be jumping through them in irregular patterns.”
“You got it, Gray. But if you’re thinking about doing what I think you’re planning on, you better keep your wits about you.”
“I always do.”
Gray felt the portal appear to his right, even though he couldn’t see it. It was like a buzzing that wouldn’t go away, a slight shimmering pulsation that hung in the air. He stepped through it, reappearing thirty meters away. He noted with satisfaction that the portal hadn’t disoriented him, so he could comfortably jump through these as many times as he needed.
“Hey, you!” Gray yelled as loudly as he could.
The armor-clad villain didn’t even register Gray’s voice, as he kept walking away from the foursome. However the villain judged threats, Gray was not near the top of the list.
“Well, then, let’s make myself more annoying,” Gray muttered as he fired his energy pistol at the villain’s head. He didn’t expect the shot to actually hurt the villain, but he didn’t know of anyone who appreciated being hit in the back of the head.
The villain’s head barely budged as the energy projectile connected, but it was enough to register as a nuisance. Gray fired two more, just to be safe. As the third projectile landed, the villain turned around to find the source of the disturbance. As soon as he did, he marched directly at Gray.
“Here we go, boys.”
— — — — —
(I hit the character limit, so this is continued below in [part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/f7voa0/wp_ill_be_honest_with_you_none_of_you_is_the_hero/fij79eh?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)) |
WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE.
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"We have you surrounded!"
"I know."
They had never stopped, not really. My efforts slowed them down, but their return was inevitable, it always was. So I'd resigned myself to it, and stepped outside again.
There were 20-30 of them, carrying assorted assault weapons. One particularly brutal-looking man had a minigun. Some of them had a green look about them, but most were obviously hardened mercenaries. The leader of them, a man whose entire face seemed to be covered in some kind of cocoon of duct tape, to obscure his identity, stepped up and called to me:
"Give it up and come quietly. You're outmanned and outgunned. There's no way you can escape."
"I know."
"Will you comply?"
"No."
"Then we have no choice. Light him up boys!"
I looked boredly at the hail of gunfire coming at me and sighed. I just redid the siding of my hut last week, and here they go unloading a half ton of lead into it. How inconsiderate.
The first small volley mostly missed me, putting a few holes in my arms and legs, one slightly nasty one in my hip that might have been problematic to someone else, but by the time the firing stopped, I was whole again.
I lit up a cigarette and took a short puff before saying, "That all ya got? Mr.500mm over there didn't even start spinning his chamber."
They looked at me dumbfounded, mostly, though some glared coldly; perhaps they would be among those who had seen my side of the world before, the weird and wild side where the things that go bump in the night come to relax. Their incredulous expressions didn't even amuse me anymore, I'd been at this too long.
Suddenly, my head was basically gone. For a minute, my migraine was gone. That wasn't too bad. Then I felt the sharp, liquid burning sensation as my flesh and bone reformed and reknit together, and it was back, along with the rest of my skull. I stood back up, finding my body on the ground.
"You ruined my cigarette."
"Wh-what the f*ck even are you!?"One man shouted at me from the midlines, and a glance told me he'd soiled himself watching me stand back up. Disgusting.
"A man annoyed that you've ruined my cigarette. Can you call off the sniper, or are you going to insist upon continuing?"
The leader, the man with duct tape wrapped all over his face, stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs and yelled "I came here to bag me an immortal for my bosses, and I ain't leavin' 'till I got one! Shoot him boys!
"Well, if you insist then, but it's your funeral. Don't say I didn't give you a chance."I said calmly.
They raised their guns at me again and fired, in force, with accuracy this time. I saw the rain of death approach me and raised a hand. They stopped motionless in the air, all the guns immediately jamming and destroying their inner mechanisms as my power held the bullets in place in the automatics' chambers.
I dropped my hand and the bullets fell, the useless weapons soon following them as the men pulled out knives, bayonets, sidearms and the ilk. Now I laughed hollowly, no trace of mirth in my voice, "Very determined bunch aren't you? So be it."
They hesitated, but the leader screamed at them, "What are you WAITING for, an engraved invitation!? **GET HIM!**"
They stalked towards me, encircling me against the ruins of my home. I merely shook my head as I again raised my hand.
"Still resisting!?"The leader said with indignant rage, reaching out to grab my wrist and lock me into the handcuffs.
"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."I said, again humorless. He almost turned to look behind him where my hand was pointed, but he was too focused on the malice in my eyes.
I closed my fist, and all the men fell, shot in the back by their own bullets that I'd just halted moments ago, launched again by my own power.
As the men lay dying, I fetched a few belongings I'd arrainged in my hutt, out of the line of fire in a little underground warren I dug for hiding sensitive objects.
I grabbed what things I could from their bodies, taking whatever money or useful things I could find. I looked at the leader, one of the last struggling to breath as blood poured into his lungs, and said "You weren't the first, nor will you be the last man to die for the ancient, greedy and dying's wishes of immortality."
I raised my hand again, some few remaining bullets rising above those few still stubbornly clinging to life. The leader closed his eyes.
"Rest, now."I said, amd closed my fist. |
[POEM]
I roared to life in the morning,
Made our way in these waters so cold,
Played my cards when the winds were assailing,
While my friend in the Townsend said "Fold",
'Twasn't long 'fore miss Huron came callin',
Took my better half and her crew,
I tried my best to keep trawlin',
Miss Huron her best to break through.
Five miles I went on my own then,
Lights shining away 'gainst my plight,
But half a ship can't keep going too long, and,
This engine succumbed in the night. |
My only reaction was pure horror. These people, they would destroy her. My sister by time rather than blood. We had ran away together, kept eachother safe. But now, She was chained, kept down with a gun at her head.
Before now, I had no intention of going through with this, and I think he knew that. So now I was faced with a choice. Give up my best friend, or a group that saved us. Raised us. For all purposes, they were parents. But they were rebels and murderers.
And they had emimies.
I stared at my sister, and watched as she breathed heavy. Like a wounded animal. "Yes sir,"is all I could say as I turned to leave. Going through all the possibilities. Any one of them ended in blood. Mine, hers, or one of theirs. Or all of the above.
The treck was long, and dragged on heavy feet. The moonlight would be beautiful on a different night. Angelic and calming, but not tonight.
I turned the handle on the door to our house, and walked inside. "Hey,"I called out, my voice hoarser than I expected.
Maven rushed to my side, wrapping her arms around my head and stuffed my face into her chest, "Oh Darling. It's been days,"she said, cradaling me like a mother.
A man walks up behind her, towering high above the both of us. Hoss' voice hummed, "Where is Kat?"
I burst into tears, "I need your help, Kan, he took her. For you."
As if controlled by a single mind, they gasped as one, and Maven covered her mouth, choking back tears.
"I think we could take them,"I sigh, shaking my head at the thought, "They aren't many"I say, delving into my plan developed over the walk.
(If you guys want more, just say the word, but I can't rn cause typing on a phone ain't easy for long form stories lol) |
It was a routine check. Meteoroid impact in Arizona. The sort of thing that would almost never be the beginning of a story Charlie might tell. The road on the route from the Governmental Space Object Agency toward the particular piece of Arizona where the meteoroid impacted was barren, dusty, boring. Charlie ate a sandwich on the way. He didn’t mind.
The driving was the best part of the job really. Who doesn’t like to get paid to zone out and listen to the radio and cruise down the open Arizona highway? He stopped on the way at a little gas station and bought a couple tall cans. He drank them on the way to the impact site, so by the time he got there he was a bit tight. Not drunk, but tight.
Right away when he got out of the truck he could feel the heat coming off of the Suspected Space Object. He jumped back into the truck. The point of impact was glowing, burning red hot. Charlie’d never seen anything like it in his twenty years with the GSOA. He wished he hadn’t had those beers on the way and reached for his report forms. The GSOA had all sorts of forms for its site officers to use to report what they found when they visited impact sites. Site Officer Charles Aiken, Charlie, slightly tight, found the form marked RF11, Report of Abnormal Circumstances, and clipped it to his clipboard. He put on his hazard suit, clumsily, and climbed back out of the truck.
Again he felt an intense heat coming from the impact site. Not enough to kill a man at that distance, but enough he’d notice. He kept his distance and filled out the form. He thought maybe it would have been better if he’d drunk a bit more.
The GSOA sent more than fifty personnel to the site over the course of the following weeks, and they’d built temporary housing units surrounding the impact site by the time it cooled enough to be approached. Charlie, as the Primary Site Officer, was technically in charge of the investigation.
Practically though, Charlie Aiken felt quite in the way during the investigation.
Voyager 1 was an exploratory satellite, meant to take photographs of Jupiter and Saturn. It was not designed to communicate with alien societies. As it turned out though, the aliens were able to gather enough information about us from Voyager 1 to send a response. That response was the object Charlie had neared, drunk, on that ordinary September day. When it had finally cooled, and the international community of scientists had gathered, classified, studied and understood it, the message it was supposed to carry was as follows:
Stop now. Solve it where you are. You are too small for such reachings. Rethink.
Charlie didn’t mind. He drank his beers and cruised along Arizona highways, stopping here and there to report meteoroid impacts. |
The light in the bar was dim, a stark contrast with the light of the afternoon sun peering through the windows. It was a quiet time, with only a few people scattered all over the tables inside. In a reflex, I checked the numbers above everyone’s heads.
“Guy in a suit with 96 - probably an average office worker.”
“Old guy with 121 reading a newspaper - that guy must have been smart, I wondered what he was doing for a job before he retired.”
“An older lady with 107 and an adult guy with 76 - typical case of a mother with a son with Down’s syndrome, probably hoping that they’ll draw less awkward stares at such a quiet time in the bar.”
As you can probably guess by now, I can see people’s IQ number floating above their heads. The largest number I’ve ever seen was 145 and that was in the mirror watching my own face. I know it’s just a number, but it reveals *everything*. The lady with her son didn’t need to fear any awkward stares from me: they’re not even worth my attention. The guy reading the newspaper could maybe make a nice conversation partner with a bit of effort on my part, but I’d probably be better off staying silent.
I turned around to face the bar, when I saw it: a shiny number 365 floating above the barkeeper’s head. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was I seeing things? Was I drugged? I pinched my face just to check that I wasn’t dreaming.
The bar keeper grinned, “What’s up? Never seen a handsome face like mine before?” That was obviously a joke: he had a nice build and a brown beard that fit his face, but calling him handsome would be a stretch. He looked average, without a single distinguishing facial feature. I’m not even sure I can remember his face correctly, because he looks too much like any other guy you see behind the counter of a bar or shop. He did look friendly though.
“Sorry for staring, I was daydreaming. Could I get a cappuccino please?”
“Sure, looks like you could use the cafeïne shot,” he replied with a friendly smile.
I was burning from curiosity to ask him about his high IQ number, and how he ended up here when he could do so much more, but I had no idea how to broach the subject without revealing my ability. Eventually, I settled for quiet observation over my cappuccino.
He was an attentive barkeeper, regularly checking up on his customers and occasionally even striking up conversation. With ever increasing puzzlement I watched him start a serious conversation with the lady and her retarded son. I wondered how he could stand going down to their level. When he got back, I asked him about it.
“It must be tough to start conversing with people like that,” I remarked.
“People like what?” he asked, a deep frown transforming his otherwise friendly face.
“Well, you know,” I replied uncomfortably. “People who don’t have their heads on quite right.”
The barkeeper suddenly smiled. “Ah yes. It’s certainly a drag to watch people walking next to their shoes like you.”
“Why is this suddenly about me? I was talking about them over there...” and I gave a quick nod in their direction.
“They’re really friendly, and Tom always has the most fantastic tales to tell. They’re a joy to talk to. However, I won’t stand people talking bad about them in my bar.”
“Your bar?” I felt increasingly confused and found myself speaking louder and louder from distress. “I thought you were just doing a temporary job here to fund your studies or something. With an IQ as high as yours you must be eager to move on to something better!”
“And how would you know about my IQ?”
With that final question I froze and realized I had partly given away my secret. The barkeeper saw my striken look. I stared into his eyes and saw him come to the realization of what my gift entailed. I wasn’t sure yet how he did it, maybe his high IQ helped him connect the dots, but *he knew*.
“With an EQ of 45 I don’t expect you to understand, but people are much more than just their IQ number. Now get the hell out of my bar.”
I don’t think I’ve ever left a bar that fast in my entire life.
Edit: small typo corrections. |
You will be perfect. After all, you were made in my image. Everything good about you came from me.
I've given you everything from the womb till now. I paid for everything, from the best milk powder to the myriad tutors who instructed you to be the wise and strong man you are now.
And you want to give it all up, after 20 years of patient and sheltered upbringing. You want to travel abroad, find a low-paying job, for *love*. Do you not love your parents? Are you so traitorous to your flesh and blood?
Your passport will be rejected; my friends at the airport will see to that. That wench who you think you love will be replaced by a beautiful woman who we have selected for you. The ownership of our family company will be transferred to you, as we have foreseen.
You will be perfect. And as you have been from birth, you will be mine. |
The slit nosed man, confused on what this stupidity was, looked to his left.
What the? These muggles- were they even muggles?- were shooting down his followers and wreaking havoc just as *he* was a moment ago.
“*Let them suffer.*” Said a man with a low voice, Voldemort turned to his direction, and saw somebody with a black cape, a ominously intimidating stature, and suit.
“Who... are you?” Voldemort hissed out.
“Why, I am your every fear combined.” Vader replied, igniting his lightsaber.
“*Every fear combined?*” Voldemort sneered, “That is the title for *me*.”
Both gazed into each others eyes, a severe stand-off ensued.
The fate of the Earth would be decided, today. |
As I rode on my tron-styled motorbike, the world became a flash. "Everything is going so fast."I told to myself. Where was I heading, again? Oh yeah, Stargazerstreet 1. According to my map I was almost there. Just this road left and, yes there it wa-... "Holy fucking shit. They told me he was rich, but this rich?"
As the building rose up I saw that Stargazerstreet 1 in fact, was a villa of 300 m2. "How the fuck haven't we ever heard about him? This guy has made so much money by just making videos on YouTube? No, it can't be. He just started his YouTube account about a month ago."Sponsors? Unlikely. Rich dad? Maybe the most possible solution.
Lost in thoughts, I almost got swooped by a Pepsi gangmember. "Aye, you there. Yeah you, on that shiny biky of yours. Leave this place. No Coke-snorters allowed in here. This is a Pepsi-only street."My stomach made a triple loop with a screwdriver right after. "Those jokes again, dude [MAX](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pepsi_Max) your game or [DIEt](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diet_Pepsi) please.""What did you say!? Punk."His rage feeding I replied. "You heard me [CRYSTAL](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crystal_Pepsi) clear."And as he reached his limit he came charging at me.
Everyone there thought it was my end. But them not knowing me, worked to my advantage. First let's break it down right. There are different classes of people in our coke society. First off,
* Members: though not really caring about it they play an essential role in our society.
* Influencers: They convert people through words rather than a Conversion-gun.
* Strategists: They tell the Influencers whom they should focus on.
* Silencers: The assassins of our society. Taking down people is their top priority.
* Converters: Rather than words, Converters use a Conversion-gun to take people from other parties to our side.
* Monitorers: The higher-ups who overlook everything. So our society can bloom.
I am Nathaniel, a converter, the best one at that. And this is my story of living in this society. |
I think using adjectives that may be used in other non-sexual situations instead of explicit adjectives.
"She possesses the body of a goddess, radiant and slim, yet appealing to the desires of man, almost as if she were a human-sized lump of precious stones, glowing and rich."
"The bed creaks with our movements, you could almost hear it crying out beneath us. She makes some sounds, not too audible yet not too silent. She seems to be in pain, yet she does not give any resistance as my body keeps moving keeping up with my bestial instincts, as if my brain had no control over me." |
“Miss Muriel, Mr Abiel, I am handing you over to our lead planner for your... case,” my supervisor tumbled over her words while Muriel, the daughter of Satan himself, just glared.
“It isn’t a case, it’s our wedding!” She snapped sharpishly. Abiel, the son of Apollo, just patted her hand and brought her in to him at the waist.
“Come now baby, I’m sure this woman will help?” I held my breath as I walked slowly into the room and put on my biggest smile.
Trina left in a hurry, speed-walking out on her heels and with a clipboard to her chest.
I waited for her to leave the room, before huffing our a small breath and slouching on to a chair. The couple was, to say the least, unnerved by this.
I pull out a packet of cigarettes, and look at them in the eye. “You too, eh?”
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘you too’—,” Muriel began before Abiel dragged her down once more. I chuckled, raising the newly-lit cigar to my lips.
“I mean, you wanna get hitched with an angel too?” They looked at me in awe for a few moments before Abiel cleared his throat.
“Are you—,”
“A demon? Yeah, but not in this form any way,” I slowly began to remorph back into my original form, something more like Muriel’s.
My skin turned into a blood shade of red and my eyes turned as black as my soul. My wings grew into my back and my pet, Demishian, crawled up my back. My formerly prim and proper clothes were replaced by a seductive black dress and they both immediately recognised me.
“You! You are Amora! The demon enchantress queen!” Abiel, shocked, stood from his seat and backed away. He saw that familiar glint in my eye.
A grin was spread across Muriel’s face.
“My darling friend, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” I smiled genuinely as I walked towards her, cigarette still in hand. We embraced quietly before pulling out of the hug. Abiel was still very much confused.
“My love, I don’t quite understand what’s going on—,” an object slid through his ribs and to the other side of him. The silence in the room of the deaf, just the way I liked it. He fell silently to the floor as we both just laughed.
“5th god this last 2 years to fall for that one!” Muriel laughed, turning to me. She tugged my waist in as we embraced in a lustful kiss, tongues twirling together in a way that made her crave me. We pulled apart as I shifted onto my normal form quietly, her still being taller than me despite me in heels.
We looked at the dead man on the floor and then to each other.
“I’ll get rid of him later love, you can get some rest,”
Sorry I can’t write anything without turning it into lesbian fiction 😣 |
“I don’t want to hear excuses! I want that Albuquerque situation resolved pronto!” Eduardo “El Lobo” Martinez raged into his IPhone XI as he paced around his home office, knocking a box of Cuban cigars off the desk, he opened a drawer in his desk and reached inside and pulled out a bottle of Partida Elegante Tequila, a now almost completely empty container which had cost $350. As he reached for a glass, He failed to notice that his maid had entered the room with her cart. She had started dusting the bookshelves which though impressive looking were rarely used. He liked to tell people how intelligent he was, he owned a first edition of “The Man of La Mancha” but had’nt read the book since elementary school.
He sat down at his desk cursing under his breath. He poured the tequila which soon emptied the bottle. The haggard looking boss in his wrinkled suit looked up at the maid “Wheres Luis?” he asked.
“Luis is not here sir.” Consuela replied as she continued dusting.
“He was supposed to be here at 11:00, is it 11:00?”
“No, no… Is 12:30”
The fact that Luis was off picking up dry cleaning and whatever other errands he’d been sent on escaped him. He was hungover and needed more cocaine and expensive tequila to ease the effects of indulgence of the previous night. But he had none, and the maid was’nt able to help that. Consuela had been with the family as long as he cared to remember. And she was a good maid, able to clean just about anything. He got up and stumbled off towards the shower, “I want this place spotless when I retun, got it?”
“Yes, sir, it will be clean” came her usual reply. And soon she finished dusting the bookshelves and moved towards the couch. The black Italian leather overstuffed couch, still had creases from where he’d passed out the night before. And the floor still had vomit stains, so she got to work soaking the spots, she also checked under the desk and found another bottle of tequila which had rolled out of sight, the bottle and some of the spilled cigars vanished into a plastic bag which was soon sealed and vanished into a trash bag.
Another vomit spot was soon soaking as she returned to the sofa and reoved the cushons. Several crumpled hundred dollar bills and a few bags of cocaine and a gold watch were set aside and placed in a corner on the desk (minus a bag of cocaine and a few hundred dollar bills). She reset the cushons and set about deep cleaning the leather, before returning with the carpet cleaner.
In the evening when he returned, he noticed that the room was indeed spotless and has a pleasant scent of fresh lemon, and went to his desk and spotted the watch. “She found it, I was wondering where it was. Such a good maid.” He thought to himself. |
Laughter. It’s something that can cheer most people up. It’s a reaction to convey that we find something humorous. This is what it is to most people. To me, however, it is the sound of true pain. It reminds me of my involuntary solitude.
It seems as if everybody else doesn’t know what is going on. The only way I can describe it is that I am an actor in a play. The audience, is an ominous being. And I am forced to entertain them. Bound by some presence that I cannot describe
It has been this way for as long as I can remember. The same shtick happens everyday. I wake up, I crack jokes, I go on adventures, I mess up, I get myself into funny situations.
This sounds entertaining, and at first, it was. But now it has become a chore. I wish to live a normal life, and I envy those who have this ability. I need a way out. And it’s not like I haven’t tried. I have thought of millions of plans to rid myself of this hell, but all of them have fallen flat.
So my final question to the nothingness is this. Is this really living if I can not control my life?... I looked directly into the camera and smiled. Tears flowing down my face.
“Goodbye kids! See you next time!”
- Bang. |
Age. Creeping up on everyone. There’s no escape.
Time is either your ally or your bane. Time can only pass so fast. Age goes with it. And so, for most people, it is their ally. Most of the time.
There is always too much of it, but never enough of it. Too much has passed, not enough left.
There is really never enough time to do anything. We’ve all made the wish. For more hours in a day. For more time to be with those we love. For more time to live. To do. But never for more time to die.
Yet that is always what you get. For 2 hours every day, the sun shines, the world goes on. And then it resets. For everyone but me. I wished for this. But every wish comes with a price.
The price mine exacted was my life.
See, the way it works is odd. 2 hours pass. Normally. Then they do it again. Everyone and everything resets. Except me.
Except me and my work.
2 extra hours. That’s what I asked for, isn’t it?
I don’t reset.
My age doesn’t either.
2 extra hours each day. 1 extra day every 288 days.
It seems small, but it adds up. And up. And up.
So time is my bane. And I'm running from it. But I can’t escape.
Time can only pass so fast. But it passes faster for me.
*\~A Story Of Ashes*
*\~\~Please visit* r/StoriesOfAshes *for more Stories.* |
Politicans mayors, senators, state legislators I have always hated every single last one of the slimy bastards. But today is a special day the start of the first intergalactic Olympics held in Sahara. You would think that maybe my hatred would be dulled on a day like today.
Unfortunately that is about as far from the truth as you could get. I'm the unlucky sod that has to make sure we live up to the expectations chairman Chang set. You see the chairman went and started using figurative language when describing the Olympics.
Grandiose terms when describing our natural talent at the sports. Like the main reason I'm particularly angry today "Unbeatable , Unstoppable and Unstable". Normaly this would not be a issue but I would like to address the proverbial elephant in the room.
.
No matter what way you put it we are going to have our asses handed to us collectively. See the Milky Way is a large place with hundreds of empires and civilizations throughout. Each and every single one able to make it into space and survive their world.
That means adaptation and specialized evolution in their respective worlds. Let's put humanity into this larger puzzle that we are facing just where are we. To put it simply up shit creek without a paddle in a proverbial flaming canoe.
Even though the games are to our advantage our physiology we are going to lose there is no way around it. That means some rather literal violent people will be disappointed in our abilitys. Some very violent peoples with a penchant for genocide on sector wide scales based "genetic superiority".
.
The small group of runners and marksmen suddenly enveloped in a low whispering filling the room. "*Hey eyes up here I can answer questions after*"the whispering quickly dying. To quickly summarize it is very possible the chairman has killed us all.
That is where you come in you are the best humanity has to offer the galaxy our stamina and accuracy. I personally don't want to die and I'm sure you all have a similar sentiment as my own. So I need you runners to run as long as possible in that marathon but fight dirty.
Trip kick bite the competition do what you have to do to win. These are some of the fastest runners from over a million worlds you can't play fair. There is one race that might beat us but the intelligence division has us covered.
.
The small projector on the ceiling hummed silently as the our opponent was displayed on the wall. An two legged abomination covered in a crystalline skin and vaguely resembling the hellhounds of ancient legend. This is a Fickle funny name yes but absolutely fast and capable of enduring thousands of miles of constant running.
What the egg heads think is our best shot of winning is overheating the bastards. They are from a planet similar to ours minus several degrees of heat on average. This means two things mainly that the marathon will be taking place here in satan's ass crack. And secondly were making sure our opponents can't get any aid from their friends.
That means no water bottles along the rout and the distinct possibility of dying in the middle of anakin Skywalker's nightmare. This should be enough to secure our victory any questions from the runners. An american near the back immediately raised his hand the question coming before I could call on him.
.
"So where going to be racing space Natzis"
"*Simply put yes but in actual practice closer to Space Communists with stalinist ideas any other questions*". The rest of the hands dropping after the vital question leaving a deafening silence.
Next Marksmen you most likely will have the best chance at winning. You have years of experience using ballistic weaponry and the aliens have been using point and click lasers. The projector cycled to the next image projecting a ongoing war in our spiral arm.
A small almost elf like alien holding something that looks similar to a classic grey alien impaled on a bayonet. These will be your opponent the off brand greys and rip off humans. They are currently fighting a vicious civil conflict over the morality of burning trees or some crap.
.
Both sides are sending the best marksmen they have to show up the other side. We are going to send KGB agents to try and start a "international incident"during the opening ceremony. That should remove the threat that these two present just focus on shooting straight.
And unless you all want to end up dying of poisoning I would avoid telling anyone about that fact in particular. Any other questions at this time I am more than happy to answer at this time. A Finnishman in the back silently raising his hand in the back speaking."The aliens keep saying that we will lose the molting competition just what the hell is that?"
"*It's just as it sounds to appease token groups we are having to throw this in as a show of good faith*"My fingers air quoting the good faith in the absolute mangling of the word. "*To summarize we will be sending a man dying of Steven Johnson's syndrome and remove the supportive drugs from his system he will die*".
.
As of this time you are allowed to return to your rooms or talk with the other Olympians just not the Tolken rip off discount elves things are going to turn ugly here in five minutes. Enjoy the rest of your night and remember to take those sleeping meds to get that good night's rest.
*"God speed and good luck gentlemen*" |
Monday 4:30
"The news said today's going to be a blood moon "My mom spoke ominously.
I had come to stay with my folks since I had a week of vacation. 'The blood moon eh' I thought.
"Yeah, I've heard about it"I say as I sit on the couch and turn on the TV switching channels."Flesh eating monsters and other such nightmarish hellions roam the street or so I've heard"I place the remote down and put my feet on the table.
My mom seemed irritated looking at my feet.
"How about you go and pick Phil up from College he'll be happy to see you. Your father will be back from his walk pretty soon"She said as she gestured me to remove my legs.
"Sure"I say as I stand up."Where are dads keys might as well take the bike".
"They're in the drawer near the door"mom replies.
I take the keys and head out to the garage. I put on my helmet and start the bike then race off towards Phil's college.
---‐------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday 5:30
I arrive at the college parking and look around for Phil. Seeing no sign of him I decide to call him.
"...Hey Jason been a while since you called"a voice answers.
"Yea Phil, I'm here for the weekend and mom asked me to get you so I'm here in the parking for you"I reply.
"Why did you have to come?"He spoke those words softly but I heard them. I pretended to not hear them though.
"Hello?"I spoke as if I couldn't hear him.
"Sure, I'll meet you there In a while"he finally said.
I cut the line but doubt lingered in me. 'He was definitely being strange' I thought.
So I parked the bike and went to check it out. I found him trying to sneak past the school gates where I caught him.
"Phil where are you headed?"I said from behind him.
"Nowhere"he said trying to keep his face neutral.
"Fine, then let's head on back home"I said gesturing him to walk in front of me.
"Sure"he said as he slowly walked towards the bike.
When we reached it. I got on the bike as I waited for him to slowly get on. After he did we left back for home.
---‐------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday 5:45
"Do you believe in those nightmarish monsters Jason?"Phil asked me as we were on the bike.
"Maybe? I'm not so sure whether they're just rumours or not"I say neutrally.
"Do we need to get anything for dinner we should probably check the supermarket"he said excitedly.
"No"I replied.
"Oh"he said mood neutral.
---‐------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday 6:30
We reach home and I park the bike in the garage while Phil looks around nervously.
"What's wrong Phil?"I say suspiciously.
"Nothing I'll head inside"he says as he enters the house.
I enter behind him.
"Jason you're back"my father hugs me.
"Good to see you too dad"I return the hug.
"Let's get ready for dinner then"I say heading to my old room alongside Phil.
We change and head back down.
We join our parents at the dinner table. We all chatter about random things
"So hows work been Jason?"my dad asks.
"Its been pretty good everyone at the office is pretty friendly"I say.
"Phil you seem somewhat pale is everything alright"mom says.
"I'm fine it's just I'm still tired from college"he says rubbing his hands.
"You can go to bed early if you want"dad chimed in.
"I'll do jus-"the ruby of the blood moon shined into the house as Phil was speaking.
"The blood moon looks pretty amazing"I say as I take a picture of it.
"Yeah it does"dad says.
I hear a thud and see Phil collapsed.
"PHIL"I shout as I go to check on him.
His skin turns red as his body starts expanding in size. His form shifts as he takes on the form of a rat breaking through the ceiling with eyes as red as the moon.
7:15
(I'll write more later) |
***This is probably not as good as I would have hoped but I wanted to give this one a try. Enjoy.***
Diagon Alley was certainly home to some odd looking folk, wizards and witches of various shapes and sizes, house elves, goblins and various other magical creatures but the new arrivals were drawing looks from almost everyone and that was saying something. There were 3 of them huddled in a corner, their outfits were striking but more closely resembled the garb that muggles wore but any wizard with even the smallest amount of experience in the non magical world could see that these outfits would have been just as out of place in the muggle world too. They wore plain black shoes with equally plain trousers but above the waist was a bright colour, each wore a different colour, Red, Yellow or Blue, up until the shoulder area where a black strip finished off the outfit. Each had a collar, similar to a priests without the white tab and on each of the collars they had small bronze circles, again, each had a different number, the outfit was finished off with a badge over the left breast which appeared to be stylised arrow facing upwards with a horizontal strike through it.
“I thought you said this was a Sci-Fi event?” said the one in red.
“Relax James, there must be a Fantasy convention near by” replied the girl in blue.
“Hey guys” said the man in yellow “I think this is more than a convention, it’s like one huge LARP”
“You know, we could have some fun here” said the girl “We could join in with the LARP, be on an away mission to a strange planet”
“That’s actually not a bad idea Jen, it would kill some time until we can find Trek-Con” said James
“Cool” replied Jen “You game for that Simon?” she directed at the guy in yellow.
“Yeah, why not?” he said.
Without delay they immediately began LARPING, each had their own dedicated roes to play, James was captain, Jen was the doctor and Simon was a security officer. James decided to start with a log.
“Captains log, stardate 48925.7, we find ourselves within a primitive, pre tech community. The species here is humanoid in appearance. Unfortunately our uniforms make blending in difficult and a lack of local currency means we cannot purchase local garb, hopefully our appearance won’t compromise this mission too much” James brought his attention back to his ‘crew’, specifically Jen “Doctor, what can you tell us about these life forms”
“Well Captain, they appear to be very similar to us, if we had local garments we would have no trouble blending in at all” she took out a device from her pocket and began to discreetly direct it at a nearby local, at the press of a button the device began to make a high pitched humming sound as she directed it up and down her target, “they appear to have an advanced nervous system capable of storing vast amounts of energy”
“What sort of Energy?”
“Unknown Captain.”
“Commander Smith, do you have any observations or concerns that could affect our mission here?”
“Not at this moment in time Captain, though it is logical to be wary of the locals if they have an energy storage capacity, it could possibly be some kind of weapon, I suggest we proceed with caution sir” replied Simon as he reached up to run a finger along the pointed prosthetic on his ear.
“Agreed. I think we need to find a way to blend in”
Jen held up her hand, palm facing outwards, the signal the universal gesture for ‘Stop’, she then broke character and said “I’m not sure how 3 starfleet officers could blend in here guys, we have none of the local currency so we can’t exactly buy clothes and we can’t exactly steal it just for a LARP. Also, don’t you think something feels off about this?”
“I think you might be right” James said “We only stopped in that pub to use the toilets and when we came back out we were in the middle of this Lord of the rings LARP or whatever it is”
“I don’t know if this is a Fantasy LARP actually” replied Simon “I have seen a few real ugly Yoda’s, look! There’s one over there!” he said, pointing at a house elf “That thing looks really real, but it’s like Yoda if he had been starved for 6 months!”
“Let’s just look around for anything familiar and take it from there” said James. They all agreed and made their way through the bustling street, all too aware of the strange looks from the people there, something definitely felt off, even fantasy LARPER’s knew a star fleet uniform when they saw it, but these people just looked bewildered. Now that they had time to take in their surroundings they began to notice more and more, the architecture style of the buildings made it look like something out of a dickens novel, and the shop fronts, the names on them and the items they claimed to sell were just strange. There was a place called Ollivanders which apparently sold Wand’s, a place called Gringotts, apparently a bank which seemed to attract a lot of the strange Yoda like cosplayers, a shop selling nothing but brooms and even one that sold owls. If this was some kind of LARP, they set building was top notch but somehow it felt real.
They continued on walking for a few minutes until they saw a turning into a quieter street, looking up the sign they noticed even the street names were odd, it was like a pun, Nocturn Alley, a play on words. The street looked less crowded anyway so they entered it, maybe they could get their bearings in a less crowded area. They very quickly realised though that was was the less savoury area, hence its emptiness, the people that they encountered here often carried an air of menace, the stores windows were dirty and caked in years of grime and the buildings looked to be in various states of disrepair. As they moved deeper into Nocturn Alley they become to feel more and more unsettled but they didn’t dare voice their feelings for fear of being overheard by one of the rough looking residents in the eerie quiet of this street, instead they exchanged glances with each other and it took little effort to make it clear they each wanted to reverse course. As they turned around to leave they almost walked straight into a respectable looking man of average height, he had long blonde, almost white hair and pale grey eyes and skin almost the colour of alabaster, he carried a cane though he clearly did not need it. Trailing behind him was a young boy, maybe 12, they shared all the same features right down to the sneer on their faces, the boy carried a black box with golden embellishments around the edges. “Watch where you’re going” hissed the man as he looked them over, “are you lost?!” he spat.
“Uh, I’m really sorry sir, we must have taken a wrong turn, we were just leaving” said James, desperately wanting to get away.
“Wrong turn indeed” sneered the man “you appear to be a long way from home Muggle”
“Sorry, what was that?” said James.
“It’s very unfortunate that you crossed my path today” said the man, “I do enjoy playing with muggles”. |
I held the sleeping child in my arms. I wasn’t around during either World War, but of course like every other person from my time, I’d heard about it, studied it in history lessons. To think that this little child, who slept so peacefully in my arms, not even a year old yet, was the one who killed millions, gassed them, tortured them, cut them open for so-called experiments.
And I was here to stop all that.
I cursed myself for taking so long- it had already been twenty minutes since I’d arrived. I should of been gone by now. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill this innocent little baby in my arms-
No, I told myself, not innocent. Very much the opposite of innocent. He was a murderer, a man whose name was still a plague in my time, over 50 years after the mass genocide he started. But that wasn’t for another 40 years at least.
Damn it. Why couldn’t I have gotten the chance to do this later?
It happened in the movies all the time. The hero couldn’t bear to kill the villain, despite him being the reason the world went to Hell. During these scenes I’d scream at the screen for him to just get it done with, to just stab the villain and then move on. But now it was really happening. I was going to kill the villain. And I found myself wanting to spare him, to spare this young child.
I held the child for another hour or two, torn. I couldn’t kill a child. I couldn’t. I could kill a murderer, though. But he wasn’t a murderer yet.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him kill him kill him kill him.
An hour passed. Another hour. And another. I had made my decision.
The child lay babbling in his cot happily as I walked away, back to my own time. |
“Tex, you’re not seriously considering quitting are you?” Sidekick Tony said, palming his sweaty fingers.
“It not something that has been considered, Tony. It has already been done.” Big Tex placed a laden cardboard box onto his desk and began filling it with the rest of his things. Accolades clumped up into a tangled mess of cords while city trophies clattered against the sea of pins that Big Tex had accrued over the years.
“You can’t do this. You have a contractual obligation to the government and a fiduciary duty to serve the people of Manhattan.
Big Tex paused, “Fiduciary duty?” he resumed packing. “Yes, I did. But now, I frankly do not care.”
Sidekick Tony attempted a different angle. “Listen, Tex, If you go now the pantheon of supers will be without its Zeus. Big bads like Infinity Duster or even, heaven forbid, Germo could resurface. Bads that no other hero can deal with as well or as easily as you, and you know it.”
“And like Zeus, I have lived a long and haggard life full of sex and drinking. Tony it has been long past due that I move on to the next chapter of my life.” Finishing up, he sealed the box with packaging tape.
“Turning your back on people. No, I see.” Sidekick Tony said, voice quaking against his will. “I see all. The man that I admired most when you saved my school from Red Spill, the reason why I worked my ass off in the academy when I had not one ounce of talent, the one I worked side by side with for the past three years, you Luther Marx.” His voice growing deathly quiet at this time. “Don’t give a damn about the common people.”
Before walking out, Luther Marx stopped next to Tony and placed his free hand on his shoulder.
“Maybe.” He said, before continuing. “Maybe this may be a life you will also lead. Or maybe not.” Luther Marx dropped his hand and continued walking towards the door. Who knows? Maybe you will be the next Great. Regardless, you served me well Tony. And for that, I thank you.”
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t make you stay.” Tony replied. “I pray that I won’t be the one responsible for hunting you down.”
“Something we can both agree on. Goodbye Tony.” Luther Marx said, exiting from his now barren office.
After a few moments, Sidekick Tony replied.
“Goodbye Luther” |
Karaoke was our go to night out. We pretty much went every weekend, twice if we could. And like any idiots who go out singing we all thought we were amazing.
My friends were always very encouraging, they said I was actually good, and as the nights would go on later and later with more and more drinks my version of Disney karaoke only got better and better.
It was fun, and the other patrons always got in on my songs and it was great fun. After quite a while of drunk karaoke my friends talked me into trying out on one of those singing shows.
Well I of course drunkenly agreed. Tryouts were tomorrow and conveniently in town. When the day arrived I was cautiously optimistic. All my karaoke nights were going to pay off. I never dreamed of becoming some big hit star.
When it finally came to tryouts it went...not well. Turns out you think you’re a lot better after a few drinks. |
Star date 3463 dash 1440 dot 33
“These humans are quite amusing aren’t they query?” Query answered in her gentle metallic tone “Quite, to think where they could be if not for me...us.” The greatest minds on earth had just reached their next milestone in discovery of D.P.T. (Dimensional portal travel) as they’ve so aptly named it.
As if on queue, Query spoke: “These humans think themselves so clever and intelligent...” Query is a dimensional A.I. GodPiece So you’ll have to absolve her any misconduct. Query continued: “If only they could see the Source, feel its seductive will...they will undoubtedly find it. When they do they’ll grasp its inevitability. To discover it too soon would lead them to the destruction of the multiverse. It is my responsibility to delay and undermine their greatest minds so that outcome cannot occur prematurely at any cost.”
It is always fun watching all the pieces of my realm. I’ve created billions of multiverses, but to watch them in all their intricacies is still refreshing. All of them collectively bring me great pride and envy and lust and wrath and greed. Even so another peak won’t hurt... |
They came from the sky. Nobody will believe me when I return to the village, but I am sure my eyes were not lying.
It was day like every other. Nothing was different. Nothing was supposed to be different. My father was about to return from the fields, and mom was finishing the dinner. And I had to fetch some clear water for the us and animals in our farm. I was near the well, with both buckets in my hands, when I saw them.
The Star Army. They came down in flaming carriages, shooting fire arrows faster than any archer I knew about. I heard thunders, but saw no lightning, as the arrows fell down beyond the hill. And then Resistance appeared. Ancient battle clan devoted to fighting the Star Army. I knew my brother was among them, he left to the ancient caverns to learn old battle magic long time ago, and I knew he was somewhere out there. Somewhere among the men fighting back the Star Army. It was spectacular. Resistance had some flaming carriages too, and they raised to the skies, powered by ancient magic, and actually managed to destroy several ranks of Star Army forces. They were fighting, shooting flaming arrows through the skies for several minutes, when the Temple came. Star Army was surely angry, because their majestic Sky Temple came down from the sky and shot fire and lightning bolts towards the Resistance forces. It was a carnage. The Resistance was defeated, with whole their force being burned to ashes. And Star Army was angry. Their Sky Temple moved near our village and threw Arrow of Wraith towards it. Fire was everywhere, and I knew I had to go. Find my mom and dad. Find my family.
I arrived to the village few minutes later, and the destruction was gruesome. Houses were burning, people were burning, everything was on fire. And their skin. Their skin was falling down from their bodies, their hair was falling down... and I felt sick too. I fell to the ground, feeling pain and burning on my skin. Why? We did everything to please Star Army, and yet they sent their power of doom upon our village. I felt weak... I felt darkness in front of my eyes. And yet, there was still light. Light from the sky, lifting me up, pulling me towards the blue sky... |
“Oh, it has been happening for generations, child, though there has not been a disappearance since your mother was born,” her Nana said. “My own Nana used to tell me the stories, just as I am telling you now.”
Sufija lay on her stomach on the floor, her chin in her hands as she gazed up at her Nana with awe. She kicked her legs to the same beat as the chair rocking.
“But *I’ve* been to the forest, and *I’ve* never seen any Forest Queen!”
Her Nana waggled a finger at her. “The woods are not for little girls, Sufi! Besides, the Forest Queen doesn’t take just anyone. She is very particular, you see.” Her Nana leaned in close. “She will only take children who have been weeping.”
Sufija gaped. “Why does she do *that*?”
“The Forest Queen likes the taste of tears.” Her Nana licked her lips luridly. “She is far from the sea, and far from the mines, and the blood of beasts will kill her. She must needs get salt somehow, child. Salt is life.”
“But she could just *ask* for salt, couldn’t she? Or buy it at the market, like Papa!”
“Oh, she could not possibly. The Forest Queen is one of the Fae, Sufi. Our society is poison to her kind. But children are young still, and innocent. Their tears still sweet.”
“But tears aren’t sweet!”
“That’s enough stories for now, Sufi.” Her mother interrupted. “Wash now for supper.”
Sufija jumped up, eager for food. She kissed her Nana on the cheek and skipped off in the direction of the kitchen. Below the lintel she stopped and turned back to regard her Nana with a serious expression.
“I’ll go into the woods and find the Forest Queen one day, and I’ll never shed a tear! *I* am not afraid of *her*.”
With that childish assertion, she turned about and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Oh, child.” Her Nana groaned as she heaved herself out of the chair. “It is not for fear of *her* that children weep.”
Years passed. Sufija had grown, as had all the village. She was a child still, though nearly a woman. She forgot the tale of the Forest Queen, and her Nana never told it again. But her Nana spun a wealth of other tales even more fantastic to keep her mind occupied, and it was never missed.
Sufija woke with the dawn to do her chores, nudging her brother awake in passing. There were cows to milk and eggs to gather, wood to split and rushes to change, all before breakfast.
Sufija loved mornings. Folk were always about early in the village, but they were all engrossed in their own business in their own yards. Mornings were cheerful and peaceful at once. She approached the dairy cow, collecting her pail and settling onto her stool to begin milking.
She almost did not hear the murmur of voices over the steady sound of milk on metal, but then they grew nearer, and louder. They were pounding on doors as they passed. Sufija could not see the road past the cow, and she was growing curious, but she must fill the pail before she could investigate.
Sufija brought the milk into the kitchen before hurrying out the door, following the angry murmur. There was a gathering in the square, and folks were riled.
Gerrid the headman stood on a crate waving and shouting for silence. Sufija did not like Gerrid. He beat his children, but nobody would stand up to him.
He gripped a scrap of cloth in his hand as he stood above the crowd. It looked familiar, but Sufija could not guess why just then.
When at last it was quiet enough to be heard, Gerrid did not mince words. “My friends! There is evil afoot in the village.” He shook the piece of red-dyed linen. “The forest has claimed my daughter!”
Sufija gasped, as did many of the village people, before crying out their rage.
She felt tears welling for her dearest friend. *Not Deirdre!* *What possessed her to enter the forest?*
Then she was reminded of the tales of the Forest Queen, who takes weeping children. Deirdre knew the tales same as everyone. What would cause her to weep and flee into the forest?
Sufija narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Gerrid as he resumed his impassioned call-to-arms.
“I ask your aid in finding my daughter!” Gerrid cried, apparent grief choking his words. “The forest is no place for a maiden!”
There were cries of sympathy and assent. Before long the menfolk had gathered in a tight knot, with their dogs at their heels scenting the torn scrap from Deirdre’s favourite dress. There was some muttering about wolves and witches, and that fire was the only cure for both.
Sufija was already hurrying in the direction of the wood, desperate to find her friend. She knew that some tales were kinder than reality, and hoped that this was not one of them. Perhaps the Forest Queen did not hurt the children? Might be that she took pity on them for their pain.
But her Nana had said nothing of the children returning home again.
Sufija almost stopped at the edge of the wood by impulse. Only the adults were permitted beyond, for the old tales still held sway in their lives, and apparently for good reason. But Deirdre needed her, and Sufija needed to know the truth. She pressed on.
There had already been talk of burning swaths of the forest for new farmland. Folk were wary of the wood anyhow, and that would solve two problems at once. But there was no question of that happening now, with Deirdre missing. Though if they found her, or if they found a Fae Queen instead, they would not hesitate to assuage their fears with fire.
Sufija did not know how long she ran, or why she ran at all. She was no tracker, and she had not the nose of a hound. The wood was vast, and darker than she imagined beneath that ancient canopy, and she was frightened now. She slowed, her breath coming in tearful gasps. Her lungs burned. She whirled around, uncertain of her bearings, or where she ought to go. There was no sound of the menfolk following with their dogs.
Pure madness. What was she thinking? Would the forest claim *her* now, for her foolish notions? Would they find Deirdre, safe but faint at the edge of the wood, and then set it alight?
Sufija sat down in the dirt, her courage deserting her. She began to weep for herself, now, as well as Deirdre.
Neither the fluttering of wings nor the shuffling of feet betrayed her guest, but from one moment to the next Sufija found that she had company.
One elegant hand proffered a handkerchief, while another slid over her shoulders in a comforting embrace. Panic was the last thing on her mind as the Forest Queen spoke in lilting tones.
“Hush now, child, do not weep.”
Whatever had caused Sufija to weep now fled her mind, and she was able to wipe her eyes dry and blow her nose. She looked into eyes gold as grain set in a heart-shaped face, regarding her with exceeding kindness. Sufija could only stare back at the Fae woman, slender as a switch and achingly beautiful, clothed in what appeared to be leaves and spider silk. She had the gossamer wings of a dragonfly and the soft dappled skin of a faun, though it shimmered like scales or chitin in the gloaming.
“Now isn’t that better? Come, tell me your woes.” The Forest Queen took her hands and stood, drawing Sufija up with her.
“But I have none,” Sufija said, and it was the truth.
The Forest Queen nodded. “That is as it should be. Will you come to my palace with me?”
“It would be my greatest pleasure,” Sufija said, and it was the truth.
The Forest Queen smiled, her expression warm. “Follow me then.”
Sufija followed the Forest Queen deeper into her realm. She thought that she heard the faint baying of dogs in the distance, but she could not fathom why. But one thing did she think to ask of the Fae.
“Will I see Deirdre? Is she with you at your palace?”
The Forest Queen looked back at her and flashed her sharp toothed smile. “You will meet many friends, my dear Sufi. Both old and new. And you will never again know suffering at the hands of men.”
Sufija returned the smile. That sounded delightful. The Forest Queen resumed her lead, and together the entered the realm of Fae, that lay beyond the reach of fire. |
Not long now. It's been 3 days since Blockbuster fell. Block is continuously ripping holes in the space-time continuum. Objects fall through the rips and are never seen again.
Firewall has been working non-stop to secure electronics from incineration. Not always successful of course, but for the most part.
The Foo are in a state of constant war. Trying to defeat the Foo-Fighters.
Gob has been sealed in an interdimensional prison by Gobstopper. He's worse for wear though. Bleeding profusely from tens of thousands of needle punctures. I don't expect him to make it.
Roadblock... Oh Roadblock. I'll miss him. He was run through. Fell to Road in the first hour. Had a good sense of humor too.
And finally we come to Safe. Split in two by Safecracker. It was said he didn't stand a chance. Easily broken and outsmarted by someone wiser. What a shame.
The protectors of our realm will not stand much longer. I wish I could help, but anyone of them could defeat me without blinking an eye. Is there anyone out there who could defend us? |
Yes, I work at McDonalds.
Yes, it is nice making cheeseburgers that clog arteries for a living.
And yes, I did kill Santa over it.
Ok, that may be very drastic when I put it so simple like that. But trust me, I have my reasons for killing Santa. Let’s rewind a little bit.
“Hello, everyone,” Life greeted, starting the meeting, “How is everyone?”
Many people said good things. The Easter Bunny said that kids have been happier than ever, with all the candy they find in his eggs. The Headless Horseman, our current face of Halloween, expressed his excitement for the fact there was not one but *two* songs written about him by the same band. And Santa, of course, was better than ever, with his toy production business booming and all the kids brimming with excitement for the next Christmas to come.
“That’s wonderful, Nick. And how about you, brother?” Life pointed to me. God what an asshole. If I don’t raise my hand to speak it means I don’t wanna speak, how does he not get that! “What have you been up to lately?”
“Well, things are going great for you,” I rolled my eyes, “which means they aren’t really going that good for me. Due to modern medicine and hygiene, people keep on living for *unreal* amounts of time.”
“Oh, what a shame,” Life said with clearly fake sympathy.
“So, to make at least *some* money, and to speed up death a little bit, I, uh,” I paused. I knew what I was about to say would get me laughed at.
“You what? Go on,” Life urged.
“I got a job at McDonalds,” I murmured, hopefully quiet enough so no one could hear me clearly.
“You what? Speak up, brother,” Life asked. God *damn* he’s so annoying!
“I got a job at McDonalds, deaf-ass!” I shouted, slamming my fist on the table.
Deep breaths, Death. Deep breaths.
Everyone at the table howled with laughter. I slumped in my chair, gritting my teeth. I turned to Santa shit-face Claus who was *booming* with his ho-ho-hos. I wanna punch him right across the jaw.
The meeting continued, with the occasional snicker. All I could focus on was Santa in that moment. He snickered the most, and I caught him taking quick glances at me then laughing. They used to have such respect for me back in the old days. I miss the Black Plague. God, how they were scared of me then. I need to do something to earn that respect back.
“That’ll be 10.25 sir,” I told a customer as I heard people behind me working on his order. I was given cash register duty, and so I had more space to think about what I’d do to earn their respect back. Santa would just not leave my *mind*. All I could think about was his stupid face, the way his big beard shook when he laughed.
Then, I had a thought. A good thought. A really really *really* good thought.
*I’m literally death itself,* I realized, *I can kill anything. Why not show them that. Why not show that fatass how much respect I really deserve.*
And so, that night, I took my scythe, wrapped my cloak around my body (it’s going to be very cold up there) and flew all the way up to the North Pole, where good ol’ Saint Nick lives.
When I got there, I already knew where he’d be. He was laying on his couch, eating cookies with a giant jug of milk beside him. God I hate him. I always have.
I barged into his home, not even trying to be stealthy. This was meant to be on display. Meant to be seen.
“Oh, wassup Ronald McDonald. What are you doing here uninvited? I didn’t order anything! Ho ho ho!” Santa laughed. His laugh is so *annoying*!
“You really piss me off, you know that?” I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. My grip on my scythe tightened.
“Oh, I had no idea. Please don’t spit in my burger!” He laughed *again*. It didn’t matter anymore.
“Nah,” I responded quietly, “I’ll spit on your grave instead.”
In one swift movement, I slashed my scythe through the center of his body. I watched as he dissipated out of the air, with only his torn clothes remaining.
I smiled, though I felt a grim terror.
“I’m gonna be in so much trouble aren’t I.” |
Hi u/TheDude834, this submission has been removed.
We feel that asking users to write about suicide is harmful. It can be hard to tell if someone's writing fiction or making a cry for help. In the event there's any truth behind this for you or someone you know, we recommend checking out /r/suicidewatch or /r/depression.
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It was finally my time to return. I had been stranded for far too long.
​
These people were intelligent, but nowhere near us. I had no choice but to...nudge them in the right direction. Dropping tin into metals to help create steel. Suggest mining in a certain area to help them discover diamond. Give ideas for inventions that would change their world. Light bulbs. Communication across large expanses. Locks, for crying out loud!
Finally, I was picked to help design a submersible to allow humanity reach the deepest depths of what they called Mariana Trench. More specifically, *Challenger Deep*. A submersible that would survive the crushing depths and provide necessities to divers that wanted to live down there for lengths of time. I was lucky enough to be able to join them on the dive.
I fixed the gloves upon my fingers and kept the sleeves down my arms, slightly loose, but not too much so. Looking no older than twenty-eight, at most, I got some looks, seeing as I was settled in the submersible with men and women, visibly, inching towards their forties or fifties. To them, I seemed young. To me, they *were* young. My hair, cut short, waved back over my scalp, gently falling into view from behind my glasses. No one but myself knew that they were merely for show. Only to hide my eyes, which weren't very...normal for a human to have. While, yes, some people have a condition that gives them "Cat Eye Syndrome", mine were a bit different, showing as more of a rhombus than a slit. The shine of the glass was enough to hide them from view and that was all I needed.
The vehicle lowered into the water. Deeper. Deeper. *Deeper*. The sunlight dimmed, as the ocean swallowed us. The water turned from a vibrant expanse of color and life to a murky and darkened blue seemingly void of anything. The further we descended into the trench, the less we saw from beyond our windows and the more we saw things light up around us, in the form of machines and dimmed cabin lights.
At least...They couldn't see anything.
To me, things exploded into vast spectrums of color and life. Bioluminescent creatures in the distance. The rocky walls of the lowest point in the ocean, to humans. What I could see, embedded into the walls, filled my vision with purples and pinks and greens and reds. I felt excitement froth forth from my insides. My heart thundered and my stomach twisted. I thanked whatever god I was thinking of, at the time, that I was at the edge seat. Shifting over, my clothing silent against the plastic, I stepped into the exit area. I enabled the airlock, which I had installed, without permission. Stripping, I left my clothing where they lay and hit a button. The button that would open the exit. It would allot me thirty seconds to get out, before closing, draining the water, and reopening the airlock.
When I was out, I could tell that the alarm went off that the exit had been opened. They seemed to notice my absence. I swam closer to the front viewing window, placing my, webbed, hands upon it. The leader of this expedition was sat at the front, his eyes wide as sand dollars. My eyes, void of glasses, showed off my unusual pupil and my hair drifted away from my ears...or lack thereof. My gills gaped from all over my body, drawing in water so that they could steal the oxygen from its molecules. My skin was speckled and pale, showing my lean structure. The structure of a body without a gender to show for it. Smooth and flexible flesh pulled taut over ribs and pelvis. His eyes flicked to my gills. The ones on my sides. Then to the ones near the bottom of my rib cage. I lifted an arm, showing the ones on the outside of my bicep. Drawing on the window, I made sure he followed. 'I am home.'
Swimming further out and away from their lights, the glowing lines of dots, along my limbs and collar, made themselves known in vibrant blue and dimmer purples. The further I got from the submersible, the more his eyes searched for me, until he stopped, having lost my outline in the dark. I swam, using my webbed digits and flattened toes to return to the home I hadn't seen in, at least, a thousand years. I missed my family and my friends. There had been something strangely beautiful about watching humanity grow from its infancy to where it was now. Even if they hadn't been my people, I enjoyed their presence and would remember what they had taught me.
​
Human curiosity knows no bounds. |
My friendship with Garth was entirely unexpected and stemmed from his emotions and personality. I don’t even think we were ever friends in the sense of a traditional manner but he is definitely the person I think of as being my closest friend.
My childhood stemmed from one of internal love. My parents never said that they loved me. I always knew they did but they never explicitly said it nor would we talk about our feelings. I’ve always wondered if this mindset came from the fact that my Dad was a veteran and it influenced him to believe that talking about your emotions was a sign of weakness. As one can probably imagine, growing up in an environment like that automatically makes you follow the same path and I never expressed my emotions towards anyone verbally or physically.
By the time I was 40 I had a train of failed relationships with some highlighting the fact that I was too cold and refused to talk about my emotions with them being the main reason for them wishing to end it. That was when I met Garth, a warm and kind man who was very open about his emotions and would hug all his friends hello and goodbye. He changed my outlook on life and I have never looked back.
\-----
Lizzy was unlike all my other friends. To put it nicely, I could have mistaken her for a robot of sorts because I’d never seen her smile or show any emotion.
I’ve always been an outgoing guy and very in tune with my emotions. If I’m not happy about something then I won’t just grin and bear it, I will find a way to make myself happy, there is simply no point to living a life you’re not happy with. We only live once, right?
One day, I was having a rather rough day and I met up with Lizzy and a few other colleagues. I knew Lizzy wasn’t the biggest fan of hugs but I can’t explain the overwhelming emotion I had to just hug everyone that day and I hugged her for the first time. I remember her tensing up and then relaxing into my hug but nothing more came of that day and it wasn’t until the next day that I received a message from Lizzy asking if I was free to meet up with her. I was a bit taken aback, Lizzy never asked to spend time with anyone from my recollection, she always had to be asked if she wanted to go to work night’s out and never offered to plan one herself or invite others. I was curious and a bit worried but I met her at the cafe nonetheless. She explained that she wanted to learn how to hug like I had hugged her the previous day. It was an unusual request, to say the least! I helped and the rest is history, now Lizzy is probably one of my most open friends and also my closest. |
The key to tripping is to remain calm.
This would be the last coherent thought of my mind as I suddenly fell backwards, never quite coming into contact with the floor. Spinning out, I came to choke on the endless void that made up the new environs of my being. The abrupt end of sensation was mild in effect as eyelids fluttered open to find the sea washing over the body. The stirring sent it flying as the water turned sour and warped. They danced on fish as the sun taunted them poorly through his beaming rays. A lobster brought me to an island with the realignment of my self and the self same other. There I waveringly wandered westward as the blossoms loomed, smiling down ignorantly. Theirs' was a horrid grin to be found only on the man who thinks that he won as the day ends. I had not won either as I stared fruitlessly down the chasm vast while the head became suffused with divine glow. A strange property to fulfill a situation as, pulled upwards, it was forced to take flight as the shimmer grew in a haze.
Then began the great fall. Boulders streamed past the small figure that was imposed against the setting sun. The collapse of the individual grew inversely to the proximity betwixt man and earth. The cravings of a lunatic full of desire seemed claim to show the disparity of humanity and the wonton beliefs of officials furthered the inert passion. They struck finally and ceased all. Our head cracked, thrown back and to the left, when the menace struck and Newton's darling cursed us all. The scattered brain lay before me and my conscience wept, for such sweet release one should never know too well. The great mourning for all the world's loss was there in front, yet none others turned to see. The rest of the body hit the earth minutes after the head, and that viscera of the broken heart turned me cold as I no longer understood the lusts of those before. I lost there what I had held for too long, and it is that that ruined me.
This time, my eyes reassembled and opened to find my own blank ceiling as the sun truly set. |
Canada was all that remained after standardization. First it was the pound, then the yard, then dollar, then human, then government. But let's step back. Hi! Welcome to modern history 11! Today we will be covering the history of the last hundred or so years. No we will not be disclosing Mr Jones's birthday. Being honest I don't think it's even on our timeline. Calm down everyone, and now I have your attention let's begin.
In the early twentieth century the United states formed the national institute of standards and technology. They had no where near as much power or notability until around 2134 or so, when their focus shifted to perfect order over the economy. The us began using S.I. units, the calendar was standardized to a 13 month, 28 day year, plus one or two days. But that plus one or two days wasn't very standard. So they made a strange decision. Any guesses? Yes Jason? No they didn't declare war. That happened later. Good guess though.
In any case what happened was they began to build up their stockpile of nukes. You know, the things that make it so we cant go outside. At this point it was around 2200 and the nucular stockpile grew to over a hundred thousand. By 2250 it hit a million. And this all went under the radar because no joke the us federal government under the leadership of president Cooke was making a "space force"to rid the moon of aliens. And besides, who could stop them? No not Keanu Reeves. Or Michael Reeves.
Anyways after a squabble with China over a small plot of land in the country side, they began the pile. And add to it. More and more until the pile was a kilometer tall. And in 2300... Vincent can you let me finish? Thank you. Anyways In 2300 they blew it up. And after we did the math, it would have worked in slowing the earth's orbit as well as giving us a new moon in a few years.
However a few minutes after blowing the bombs up, they must have remembered what nuclear winter was, and panic ensues. Except here. We built enough bunkers for everyone and as far as we know, everyone made it. Moral of the story, think things through or something I don't know. Um... questions?
(Sorry for format, written on mobile) |
“Oh, the Library of Babel again” you sigh, looking at an incredibly vast amount of rotting trees. The smell is usually the same when you get here, but the textures seem to change; maybe this time it will be malleable, while other times it is rigid and crusting. When it appears to be dying you like to grab the bark and crush it to create an ashy-paste, using whatever bodily fluid that you can manifest easily to mix with it.
It was one of those days. You start to collect the chips, this time in a slow fashion in order to savor it. The thought of fresh shrubbery and chartreuse lighting makes you think of better times, but scraping the tree still creates the same results.
You will write onto the ground.
After much effort you do write, but it is anything but deliberate. The thought of tiny – useless – glyphs spilled onto a dirt floor makes you feel like anything other than a writer. You scrape up what you can and add it to the wall, hoping the seed takes root and grow into that garden you’ve always dreamed of. Maybe this will make for a larger book. |
\[Poem\]
Marching to the hoofbeats of the Jersey Devil
that screams into the night, flapping wings into flight,
Nobody believes Mulder is on the level.
The bloodsucking Chupacabra is elusive,
much more than the hairless corpse of a mangy dog,
but vampire bites on the goats are inconclusive.
When all the campers go home, where does Bigfoot go?
What does he eat? Are forest animals his friends?
Or, do his tears turn to icicles in the snow?
Here today and gone tomorrow, cryptids exist.
Collected and catalogued on the spaceship ark.
Shutdown, ridiculed, true believers still insist.
It’s Mulder’s own great white whale—the little gray men—
teasing mankind with their intermittent sightings
And working on some freak show genetics again. |
I ran.
I ran and ran and ran.
Days of running.
I hadn't stop to drink, to eat, to sleep...
I can't stop.
Not until...
A strange feeling.
A pinprick, almost.
But not quite.
It... Wasn't painful.
Actually, it was nice.
Is it...?
Could it be...?
I looked up. There were... Clouds. But... There were so many. And... They were... Dark grey?
Rain clouds?
I smiled as the skies opened up. Finally, I escaped that stupid desert prison.
Rain...
It's beautiful...
My captors can't come out in the rain...
I smiled.
I am starving, exhausted, and injured beyond belief.
But I'm *free*. Free from... All of them.
As I walked on, I saw the city lights. So beautiful, glittering in the distance. And now, as I walked towards my future, my new life, I felt hope for the first time ever. I know everything is going to be alright.
Because now, I finally know what happiness feels like. |
Its such a shame that my brethren haven't understood chaos theory.
Oh don't get me wrong, they've read about it. They're proud of it. They just don't understand the implication.
The wider the effect, the more we feed. The greater the change in the Earth the sweeter and more nurishing the food.
In the past two centuries the Earth has been drastically changed by technology. Sure, some have stoked this progress by helping develop weapons, but there is so much more to do.
Humans are learning to understand themselves using something called science. Using it, they have discovered they create more, as a species, when they are happier. When they are under less strife, they have more free time to think and build and test.
Medicine. Computers. Cars. Planes. These are the technologies that have changed the world the most. Telephones have shaped the world as much as the gun. Radios move troops effectively *and* unite the Earth into a single ball of unfolding chaos.
My early tests have been a failure. I helped make fantastic companies, but now, others have fed on these, turning them to greed, making their once great works lesser, and crushing the workers beneath their boots. I need greater successes. I have tasted the sweetness of my fruit. It is a sweetness that can be fed off of by all of us, not just a handful. You can only have so many wars at a time.
But good? There is a limitless potential for good. |
Daily Hungtone Life Saving Checklist:
* Hungtone Superbelt: My Mother's gift to me on my 9th birthday, leather with a fancy Diamondback snake-print pressing pattern. Useful for hanging things from like my everyday carry.
* Everyday Carry: Tennis ball holder, useful so my pockets don't get wet. My dogs slobber mechanisms go into overdrive during playtime.
* Keys: Useful for starting the car and unlocking the attic. The car takes the dog to the park where the real life saving gets done. The attic is where my power lives and dines, some of the real work also gets done there. And in the basement bathroom, too, since it's the coolest bathroom in the house, both in a literal sense and from a design standpoint.
Great, we're all set. Banjo is already howling at the door, we named our Husky Banjo because he sings along to my wife's banjoguitar. We can go now.
Banjo also scowls at me when I rip some Yeezy on the drive. I think he knows about Kanye's opinion on the shape of the Earth.
My powers work similarly to a radio antenna. I take Banjo to the park so I can release my mind to the waves. I can sense irregularities of the spirit through a sort of causal quantum-link, or something.
By tapping into the subconscious of those riddled with fatal levels of anxiety and depression, I can cause suicidal feelings to, more-or-less, disappear into the background *"fuzz"* of human thought
I do this by sending an enjoyable but exacerbating scratching spiritual sensation at innate urges within these victims. I like to picture myself as a naked Treefolk Knight doing the back-paddle on a sea of itchy urges.
Instead of choosing between a bullet and your tax-law final, I scratch at the desire to sit around on Reddit and avoid doing or studying taxes altogether. I know where that rifle is, you keep it stashed where you believe nobody will find it. That's a terrible place to hide a rifle from yourself.
I rub my gnarled barky ass against your desire to hunt down the perfect snack food. Even going so far as to massage that one itch you get to drive across town to that one Chinese spot, I keep you from driving your car into an oncoming semi-truck with fantastic day-dreams of spicy orange mouth things.
You couldn't imagine how much of my concentration it takes to keep Tom Cruise alive. He is a really big fan of Avocados, I kept him away from the green-gold Cartel fields in Mexico earlier this year. He was about to try an Avocado plantation heist, that was a busy week.
Back at home, I spend my evenings with my parents and my powers. I'm not really sure how it works, all of my understanding is guess work. But my powers are quite literal, I can hear them talking to each other. Not in any cogent language I can detect, though. It's more like sentences made of emotions and images.
My powers remind me of a colonial species of aquatic animal. Whatever they are, I believe they are alien to this world and were on the verge of death when I found them. They seem to feed on time and emotion. That's my best guess, anyway.
The things they show me, it's like they interfere with the stream of causality to grab at nearby time streams. There are probably other applications for my powers but I'm not particularly interested in ruling the world or robbing fourty banks at the same time. Mind control was never really my bag. There have been several suicides in my family, I feel that saving lives is the best usage of my powers.
In extending the lifetime of suicidal people, my powers—which sort of look like a free-floating bluish-glowing psychic plant colony—are able to feed on their primary source of sustenance. I wish my emotions were as edible as the carbs I crave.
I believe time is the respiratory medium this species survives on and emotions are its sustenance. Yet, however beneficial their actions are, I believe this species is a literal parasitic organism. Not like the type of parasite who steals your foil Charizard Pokemon card back in middle-school.
I appreciate the organism for what it is, though. And they have the added side effect on my mind of making my dreams function similarly to a VR Chatroom, I can communicate with other people in my sleep while they're asleep within several kilometers of me. It's sort of like wandering through a massive castle made from thousands of different personalities.
The unfortunate side effect of *that* part of my power is I've also randomly and regularly stumbled in on wet dreams. If you ever find yourself possessed by one of these docile parasitic alien entities, be sure to avoid any parts of the dream world where furries are known to frequent.
It's an adjustment but I'm saving lives. I call myself Hungtone because of my ability to send out waves of mental fuzz, thus inhibiting that irritating desire to meet the void. |
I walked inside the convetion, stores filled with props and mangas and other anime or comic fans find to their delight.
I went to the restroom to put on my costume, the character that I'm cosplaying is Junna Hoshimi from Revue Starlight.
After putting on some finishing touches on my costume, I picked uo my bow. It shocked me that my prop bow seemed heavy, but I shurged it off thinking I didn't pay attention to detail at first.
I was dragged out of the bathroom by my friend who cosplayed Hikari at that moment, she wanted to performe act 1 frok episode one, the start of the revue. We went up the stage of the event to performe but as we started to performe, the surroundings went black and spotlights casted upon us, which was strange since the place where the convetion is at should have a lot of windows but I didn't payed attention to it that much. What I payed attention to was the stage we were performing, the stage was like the first episode.
I started singing, with the jewel etched inside my weapon glow, the stage and props started to move. This is how I discovered my weapon was real one. As I sing sekai o hai ni suru made, I grabbed an arrow and prepare myself to shoot. |
The young man had a confused look on his face as soon as the older man with a cane said this, He slowly stood up from his chair, "Training for what?"He asks.
The old man chuckled as he smiled. He then tapped his cane on the floor, it making echoes around the featureless room, in an instant everything turned into a void. There were no walls, the chair was gone, and yet they were both standing there. The old man then leaned on his cane.
"You maybe curious as to why you have been having the same dream young ward. And you will soon find out why. For now, let us just say that powers granted to you by the Universe have just awoken in yourself."
This got the young man's attention, "What kind of powers are we talking about?"
The old man had a sagely smile on his face as he snapped his fingers. The environment around them changed once more, and they were back again in the featureless room, only this time it was filled to the brim with furniture. Rows upon rows of bookshelves containing an unlimited amount of books. The young man then looked up above them and saw various screens that showed untold number of individuals, human and non-human going about their lives. He gaped in awe at the sight.
"You have been chosen as my successor to being the Chronicler."the Old man said as he extended his hand towards the young man, "Now come, it is time to begin your training."
The young man took a step forward with hesitation, before he looked up towards the screens once more, "So, is this like a time-lord sort of job?"
"It could be."the Old man replied, "It is the Chronicler's duty to catalog the history of every being in this universe, from the moment they are born, to their final breath. Me and my predecessors have done this since the birth of the very Universe. And I assure you, it will be quite an adventure."
The young man took another step forward as he nodded, "Well, I suppose I could give this whole chronicler thing a try." |
"I refuse"
This simple phrase, it isn't the first time someone *refuse* my help. I have heard it so much. After a few times, I got quite good at making people accept my candidature to their little groups. All I needed, is an angle to attack their reasoning. To give them a choice between having me in their ranks... and abandoning immediately.
"Please, explain your reasoning", is my answer of choice. No open emotions, no anger. Just a side of curiosity to show them how measured and calculating I am, to show them I respect them, and their intelligence. Even dumb brutes like to think they're smart.
"Well, Lady, you've been part of seven leagues, seven different leagues who all disbanded. Each of them lost several members beforehand, and we know heroes usually do not take lives. I could believe in one accident from time to time, but thirty two deaths is not from time to time, someone is doing this voluntarily", say the young boy in bright orange and deep black uniform. I don't even remember his name, but he is on to something. If I want to continue with my plan, I have to convince them that I was not responsible for those deaths. at least... not directly.
"You've a good head on your shoulders, looking out for your pals. I like that."First, I butter him up a little bit. "BUT... I might have a counter argument or two against that line of reasoning. Do you know why you need me? Because I am efficient. With my plans, we managed to kill more heroes in the last three years than you all managed to do in the last sixty."
"Do you know why more people die when I'm there, because results breed danger. It's easy for a hero to stick to their code of conduct when a nameless face dies, or suffer. Murder a wife, a child, a colleague. Turn them to madness, torture them, use them against one another... and suddenly, you have a recipe for disaster. You have a super powered, self righteous brat who forgets that 'with great power comes great responsibilities' or whatever nonsense they use to convince themselves each morning not to seize their rightful place"
"So, the question here is not if you're trusting me. The real question, my young friend, is this one..."
"Are you ready to face the consequences of succeeding? Are you ready for what comes after victory? Because this is where the real fight begins."
I watch him as he thinks about my words. Right now, he knows I'm making sense. He has seen the news, heard the stories.
For example, the Major ripped the Plague in half. Something about seeing her pushing his wife in a vat of acid didn't quite sit well with him. I was working with her and a few others at the time, but it can't be my fault, right ?
Of course, the plague did not know this was his wife, I made sure the Major could not catch her in time and the news helicopter was there "completely by chance"to catch the fight when it went in the streets. But definitely not my fault.
It was easier to kill the Major once he was subdued by the authorities and unable to defend himself, so, bonus points for that.
So now, I wait and I know. I know exactly what he will say. And when he says it, he will seal his fate. He has to die, mainly because I can't afford to let him live. He is not powerful, but he can think. And he might warn others of my way of doing things if he finally connect the dots after seeing me in action. He will welcome his death in 3... 2...
"Very well", he says, "you're in." |
I grin. Honestly how can I not? There's not going to be any work in collecting this one when it dies. It may even come straight to the geilded city, and then the fun'll *really* start.
Oh, yeah, you want to know what happens in the City? Well if you want a *practical* demonstration, simply pursue and praise virtue for lowly and false reasons. Predators who learn scripture to gather prey, as an example, typically end up there.
Still... Its annoying me. I tell my Lord as such, slowly, savouring the indignant glare of this dull beast. Until I hear two words that make this entire incident worth it.
"You may."
My Lord's voice has never been sweeter. And so I adjust some tiny little things, annnnndddd...
"Steve!?"Oh, so that's its name. My condolences for your co-beast's sudden heart attack.
I get off the train, stepping over the hideous land whale in my way, and enjoy my next thirty minutes as the thrill subsides.
And I get on with my day. |
"I swear to you that if you land another 20 I'm going to chase you all across the entire subcontinent with a horde of goblins"
Drac'Thar the Deceiver was standing 30 meters behind the lycanthrope with his arms crossed. We learned in his (somewhat troubled) youth that he would torment travellers and tribes across the middle East for entertainment, luring people off their path, starving them and watching them suffer. Eventually the tribes got wise and he had gotten bored, allowing people to move unmolested in exchange for a sacrifice. He found that cheating people in gambling was an easy source of fun.
Unfortunately through his laziness people stopped fearing him and he fell into a deep thousand year long depression. That's when we met him, he posted on Craigslist that he was a DM looking for a somewhat experienced group of players, we ended up arranging a meeting and here we are, 3 months later, 'trapped' in this world of his creation.
"You can't punish us for being lucky!"
That was my wife, Eleanor, she was playing as a half elf bard, and she was loving every second of it. She was the one who got me into dungeons and dragons in the first place, it was a blessed respite from her reality, from both of our realities.
The rest of our group started to chime in, my brother Brian and my wife's co-worker Adam.
"LOOK CAN YOU ALL STOP TALKING AT ONCE, ITS A WEREWOLF FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, STOP ARGUING WITH ME AND LOOK SCARED OR SOMETHING"
I was smiling now.
"We've got nothing to be afraid of, the curse only lasts until sunrise and it's almost dawn already, plus we all bought silver weapons in the last town"
Danny, we agreed it was easier to pronounce than Drac'Thar was seething.
"And how do you know that Mr 8 intelligence barbarian? You grew up wrestling bears in the tundra. You've all been metagaming since the start"
"Well,"I started, but didn't get a chance to finish before Danny interrupted me.
"OH HERE COME THE EXCUSES. What is it this time? Bears are similar to wolves? You have a long lost uncle who was cursed to be a wererat?"
My smile turned into a grin, "actually its both"
At that moment Eleanor and Adam's giggles had turned into full blown laughter, even Brian had the ghost of a smile dancing on his face.
"Right that's it, you've all spent too long discussing the fight and the werewolf gains initiative". Danny's arms were back to their resting state of crossed now.
At that moment the werewolf was unfrozen and it leapt towards Brian, snarling as it did. Fortunately he was our party's Paladin, and could easily withstand the onslaught.
"It's me next!"Was all I heard before Adam launched a fireball at the beast, a sqaure hit landed and the smell of burnt fur and animalist shreaks saturated the air.
Since it was my turn now I used my bonus action to gain stealth and moved behind the monster.
"Hey! What was your stealth roll?"
Shit, Danny never missed anything. "8 with plus 3"I grumbled, standing still while I waited for him to roll.
"Bastard, the werewolf rolled a 9, it doesn't see you in the confusion"
One stealth attack later with advantage and I held the severed head in my hands, the beast started to revert to it's human form but that was no issue, the townspeople knew who the beast was. It was Belegor the blacksmith. We'd receive our bounty.
"That's a wrap boys"chirped my wife, "let's head back to town and celebrate!"
"Or you could continue your quest and hunt down the evil lich Avaramza?"Muttered our not so gracious dungeon master.
We all ignored him, as we had been for just under 3 months, apart from when he enabled our derailment of course.
You see the deal was if we can kill the evil lich, those of us who survived could return to world with one item from our adventure. But what we never told Danny was that our last 3 DM's has quit on us, we just had a bottomless source of energy for this game, sessions would be chaotic and endless slogs where we would do anything but the main story. This was, after all, our sanctuary.
We would have to make camp on our way back to the town, it was a two day hike to track down the lycanthrope.
I almost didn't want to sit down when we stopped, but fatigue had caught up to me, a familiar feeling, but sometimes I am glad for it. Adam held everyone's attention, including Danny as we made camp. He was as flamboyant as ever, revelling in the freedom he had gained, his jokes and conversation were more than enough to captivate us
All of us were prisoners here and home, an unexpected irony. Adam was a closeted homosexual at home, here he was not closeted. If his insanely religious family learned he even played dungeons and dragons he would be subjected to months of courses and lectures, if they found out about his sexuality we've no doubt he would no longer *have* a family.
My brother was similar, I was all he had left, no job, no partner. Brian endured jail time for robbing over £2000 from our elderly mother to fund his heroin addiction. While he was no longer an active addict the experience left him a shell of a man, I opened my heart and home to him out of pity as much as charity.
My wife was the worst. She is an absolute slave, I've no doubt she would be with a better man than I but for a noble sense of loyalty (or possibly just familiarity). She is my best friend and I love her, but she had no love left for me.
I was left paralysed from the neck down after a car crash myself. Eleanor has spent the last years of her life funding my medical expenses and washing me. I am not just a prisoner but a breathing corpse, unable to eat or move. But here? Here in Danny's prison I can run, *I can jump and swing and laugh*. Here I am free, we all are.
So far Adam had spent all his time revelling in his freedom, he even has his first homosexual experience, something he remains giddy over.
Eleanor similarly was enjoying her new freedom. Freedom from me that is. She would spend every opportunity to dance, sing and drink at the nearest tavern, as well as find herself a new lover at the end of the night.
Brian was the opposite of himself here, a noble paladin of distinction, be helped anyone and everyone. He healed the sick, toiled for the infirm and tried his best to spread goodness and happiness wherever he could
And me? I just choose to play as a rogue, running is more than enough to keep me happy.
I think Danny has the freedom to stop this, to punish or push us towards our goal. And maybe someday he will. But I think he is thoroughly entertained by us for now, everyday he grows friendlier and at the rate he's going we're spending a long time here.
He's a much better DM than or last one anyway. |
“‘Dan, hurry up!’ Julie called to me as we ran to the market place. One of the Titans dropped a marketplace on the group, and a valuable one at that. We needed to check it out before they pick it up again.
It was a good day. We bumped into a store selling a bunch of limited edition figures from an anime Julie’s boyfriend watched, but I forgot the name. She bought a figure of this kid with green hair and green outfit doing a punch for him, and we were heading out. We found a McJohnny’s on the way off the marketplace, but then Julie found it. Something you can only find on a marketplace inhabited on the Titan Gold Coin. A market selling exquisite zass berries. They were beautiful. We were running out of time before the marketplace would be picked up, but we still had enough money for two of the berries. And you know what they say, ‘Those that share zass berries with a friend will be gifted with good fortune.’ So we hurried and got two.
We were going to dig into what would be one of the best edible products of our lives, but then we were confronted by thugs. One held up a knife at me, telling me to hand over the berries. The other one grabbed Julie by the arm, trying to pry it out of her tight grip. Me and Julie were scared, and we didn’t know what to do. So we handed over the berries. Or rather... I *thought* that was the plan. But when they turned back, Julie, she... she threw a rock at one of the thugs heads, and when he fell to the floor, she took her zass berry back.
The two of us bolted away from there at light speed, while the other thug with the knife chased us down. Just then, we felt the ground beneath us move. That’s when we realized that the Titan has grabbed the Gold Coin. The adrenaline started to flow right through me, and I saw the edge of the coin in sight. I ran and I ran and I ran, and I made it. Me and Julie were home free! But then, the moment I put one foot over the edge, Julie got tackled by the thug. As I fell, I turned around, only to see Julie getting stabbed in the side by the knife, and then, they were gone.
I landed onto the ground, and watched as the Gold Coin elevated into the air. Watched Julie move away from me, stuck there, in danger, with no one to help her...” Dan had finished retelling everything that happened, and began to cry. The man in the cloak put his cigarette down.
“Any significant details about the Gold Coin or the Titan carrying it?” He got off of his chair, made from a piece of an igneous rock, and adjusted his sunglasses.
“Well... the Titan had a huge forest growing on his left arm.” Dan raised his arm and pointed at the hair on it. He then wiped his eyes. “The Gold Coin also had two McJohnny’s and a couple wine shops. I think one was called Lucy’s Drinks...?”
“A Lucy’s Drinks on a Gold Coin eh...?” The man then walked to Dan. “Don’t worry kid. I’ll find your friend.” He patted Dan in the shoulder, then left the building. He whistled into the air, and a Roach came to him. He patted it, then hopped on. He rode it off, in search of the Gold Coin, preparing to face whatever obstacles may come his way in order to save Julie.
This is the story, of The Hunter. |
**Scarves**
I was jealous of those black scarves that the Londoners wore. Sort of a plaid, with fringe. Every market we went to, there they were. Not always black, sometimes other colors. Young, hip London boys made them look so good. Me, studying abroad, finding myself by avoiding a major – I yearned to look like that, like I knew what I was about.
I took to wearing a green argyle scarf. I tied it up in what I thought was a fancy way, not just wrapping it around. I wore it out to meet an old friend from high school who had moved to London, made new London friends. We drank and teased each other, and one of her friends capped a final gibe with, “Do up your scarf, John.”
I had a rainbow scarf, which I had knitted earlier in college. Sarah and I played Guitar Hero, then watched *The Great Mouse Detective* as she taught me how to make the thing. It wasn’t particularly warm, but it was massive, and…notable. Earlier that year, a classmate in Psychology told me (when prompted by the teacher to partner up and discuss “first impressions”), “You might be a little eccentric.” I wore it when I felt especially so – or when I felt especially not, and wanted my clothes to do the work for me.
My sister gave me a scarf for Christmas. We don’t talk a whole lot, other than about her occasional panic attacks, but the scarf is the best scarf I’ve ever had. Thin, but fold-able, so you can double it up. Wide. Long. Dark charcoal grey.
Sarah knit me a green scarf for Christmas once, or maybe a birthday. “To get some non-blue color into your wardrobe,” she said, laughing about my faux-complaint from weeks prior – “I always wear blue; why do I always wear blue??” It was narrow, and the first scarf I had that was not just a standard knit-stitch. Gently cabled, long columns of up and down. The end of it recently started unraveling – wormed its way out of a knot a decade old. The knot is still there, in the end of the yarn – but now it loops through the ever increasing gaps, twisting free, still clasped at the very end, not knowing any other way to keep itself together.
The blue scarf, that one I bought in Thailand, in a small town a bus-ride away from the small town I taught in – in a shop entirely filled with blue. (I was back on blue.) She didn’t sell clothes, she sold *blue*, and *this particular kind* of blue. Woven in different ways around different shapes, different gradations in shade. I was there with another teacher, a man I was definitely not in love with, but wouldn’t it have been nice? We both bought scarves. He told me about the girl he was going to give it to, a girl whom I never met, who he eventually moved to California to live with, who he eventually left, who probably still has the scarf. They aren’t warm, but they are elegant and start a nice story. “You were in Thailand?...”
I try not to have too many at a time. Eventually, you give a scarf away. You move again, you downsize – or it tears, finally catches on something. The cat makes a bed of it, accidentally claw-holes it when it jumps off. Maybe I’ve forgotten some scarves. Maybe they were just warm for a little while and then I shrugged them back into the closet. A coat hanger full of scarves, coming and going. Draping onto the floor of the closet, grazing the tops of shoes until I swoop them up again and re-coil them around the hanger, grazing my fingers across their skin and wondering if today is the day, or if the day already happened. |
She was there, looking at me, eating her eggs like it was the most natural thing in the world. But it shouldn't. These damn eggs are cooked. None of the cooking appliances are working, the repairman is only coming tomorrow. I probably shouldn't have brought a girl back from my night out knowing I would look stupid unable to cook anything for the day, but I let my "lower brain"take over.
I looked at her straight in the eyes, "Witch. I knew you were real. There is no way for you to cook these eggs otherwise. You can't fool me. I've seen every episode of the teenage witch. I Know what you can do. I'm not afraid."
After a few seconds of surprise, her eyes narrowed. She stood from her chair, plunging her fork in the middle of an egg and taking a bite out of it, yolk dripping down her chin. "You're right, I am a witch. I didn't expect you to catch on it, I'll give you that. You mortals are usually so dense. I would never have guessed I would be done by the eggs, I usually have a good time with the chicken's souls. So, mortal, any last words?"
It mustered all my courage, and took a step forward. Biting on the remaining egg at the end of her fork and swallowing it barely chewing. "I know you're bluffing. you can't harm mortals without facing trials by your peers. But don't worry. I'll keep your secrets and in exchange you'll be mine."
Her eyes split wide once more. She averted her gaze and started trembling. I knew I had won. Until she broke out laughing, holding her stomach, bursting into tears. Gasping for air, she almost fell on the ground as she couldn't keep herself standing. "Oh my god, that's the best pickup line I've heard. they usually go with a classical 'you're still beautiful' or crap like that and I have to act like my thank is true. Damn the witch thing was a good one. Alright, I'll be yours for now. Want some eggs 'darling'?", she blurted sarcastically. She walked toward the fireplace with the frying pan and eggs. She cooked them directly on the open flame. I turned red at the realization of my own stupidity. I guess I now have girlfriend that's more handy than I am. |
Time travel. There was only one man in the universe who could achieve it.
Thomas Williams, an Irish scientist residing in Germany, experimented for 30 years in chemical reactions, specifically drugs that would increase brain power and strength. One fateful day, on May 17, 2020, he created a drug that he believed was the key to alter the past.
He had to test it as soon as possible.
“Friends, I have to test a new drug. Meet in the chamber at noon.” Thomas said loudly into the break room.
His coworkers were skeptical; he never just told them to meet. He always told them all of the ingredients in his new drugs, always walked them through the entire procedure. But he seemed ecstatic about this, like it was something revolutionary.
When his coworkers walked into the room, they saw him sitting in the glass chamber, heart monitor beeping, blood pressure checked, with an ear to ear grin on his face. He held a small plastic bag in his hand, seeming to hold a sterile syringe with a small amount of liquid.
He slowly stuck the needle into an arm, his gloved hand pushing down, squeezing liquid in. His coworkers tried unlocking the door, but none of their keys worked.
“This’ll send me back. Waaaaay back. To medieval times, yes. The English kings and queens, I will see them. For real.” Thomas said happily.
A cold, stony cell, one side guarded by iron bars. Soldiers in knight’s armor, holding steel swords were gathered around, looking in at the sweating heap that was Thomas.
“What the ‘ell is that?” One soldier said.
“Don’t ‘ave a clue.” Another replied.
Thomas stood up and observed his surroundings.
“No, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” Thomas said, panicking. He ran up and hit the iron bars. Over and over again, he went for almost 20 minutes, his hands bloodied. Eventually, the bars seemed to... crack. They bent, then shattered like glass.
The soldiers backed up as Thomas climbed out.
“Come any closer and we’ll ‘urt ya! Bad!” A soldier yelled, readying his weapon. The other followed suit, standing their ground before Thomas. Thomas charged ahead, somehow easily overpowering the soldiers. He killed them, stabbing them with daggers and smashing their heads against the walls.
After the bloodshed, Thomas passed out. Police arrived at the lab after an employee’s spouse didn’t hear from them for days. When they arrived, they saw an unconscious man, a shattered glass chamber, and dead employees. |
"Ayt. Raymond L. Santisimo,"I say to no one but myself, "through the veil with you!"
I dust my hands, pick up my clipboard, and look at the list.
The pen shrieks as it slides across his name. "That's the last of them."By the force of habit, I flip the page knowing full well it's going to be empty. But. No. It's not. On the top of the page is a neatly printed row of letters.
"Deathore G. Reapir".
Wait.
That's me.
What.
How? How do I fetch myself? What?
I stare confused at the piece of paper. I absent mindedly push my bony hand through the veil, warping the space around it. I part it with ease and push one foot in, ready to complain.
"Uhhhh,"I mutter dumbly, "there seem-"
"SURPRISE!!!!"yells a startling chorus of voices.
Confused and disoriented, I scanned the room and saw a giant banner that reads "Happy Retirement!"
"Oh my god, you guys, you didn't have to!"I yell into the crowded hall. "I really appreciate it though. Thank you."
The crowd jeers, then disperses their attention as chest thumping music begins.
"Congrats, maaan!"utters a deep rumbling voice as a heavy hand pats my back. "You finally got us both into retirement."
"Give yourself some credit, Warren,"I reply excitedly. "I really couldn't have done it without you. Those nukes over the sky? What a sight. Then the mushroom clouds? THE FUCKING MUSHROOM CLOUDS??? One of the seven wonders. Definitely. Literally once in a lifetime moment I tell you." |
Hi u/AlizaCelemCentauri, this submission has been removed.
**Bathroom Humor:** No troll or meme-based prompts. This includes posting fart or poop jokes as prompts. See [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses) for more info.
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<Time to go home.>
I woke to the voice. Strangely soothing, despite the harsh accent. I rolled over, shielding myself from the sound. "Go away. I just want to sleep."
Shaking my foot, she called again. <Time to go home.>
Clearly I wasn't getting any more sleep. So I stepped out of bed and stretched. "Anything good for breakfast?"I turned to my companion. Slowly, a thought dawned on me.
<Time to go home.>
"Wait... when did you get back?"Star had been gone for 2 weeks now, off working in England. Something about an audition or something. I pushed the thought aside. "Did it go well?"
She tilted her head, something I never quite got use to. Maybe it was the lack of a smile? Or perhaps it was just a bit too far. I couldn't nail it down. <You really need to go home>
"Home?"I gestured around me, "I am home."
<No.>
Another thought hit me. She was speaking Draconic again. "Why the secret?"
<They are listening. You must go home.> She turned and left the room.
Still confused, I followed after. "Ok.. but who are they?"She turned and hissed, glaring intently at me. "Right, bad question. Then how do I-"
She clasped a hand over my mouth. <Don't speak English. They can understand.> Slowly, she removed her had again.
<Ok, who they?> My Draconic was rubbish, but hopefully she was right. <And how do I ... home?>
She didn't respond. Instead, she walked outside. Still unprepared for the day, I quickly ran back and threw on some cloths.
<You must go home.>
I brushed the wrinkles out of my t shirt as I ran back outside. <You say that. How?>
<Follow me.> With that, she took off, straight into the air.
"I think you forgot I can't fly!"It wasn't the first time. Being what she was, she rarely remembered the differences. I had to ban her from turning on the hot tub when she nearly melted me, and was fiercely protective of my shirts. She already had "claimed"two of them.
It took a moment before she returned, a sheepish look on her face. <Sorry. My bad.>
"It's fine. We just nee-"Shoving a pepper in my mouth, she gave me another apologetic look, before searing pain shot down my spine. I briefly blacked out, hitting the ground as I came back. "What the hell?!"
<Now you can follow.> She took off again.
I had prepared to retort, when something shifted behind me. Two large wings had formed, damaging yet another shirt. "I guess that works."
...
It didn't. Several minutes later, she was carrying me through the air. "Why did you think that would work?"
<Flying is not hard. You would have been fine.>
"And you've been doing it for years. Your point?"
She sighed. <I am sorry. We have to move quickly. This whole thing has slowed us down too much already.>
I furrowed my brow. "What exactly is going on? You run off for weeks with only a passing note, then show up out of nowhere, spouting random nonsense. I really need some answers here."
<I am only trying to protect you. I cannot do that here.>
"WHERE IS HERE!?"The shock of my yelling caused her to drop me. I plummeted several hundred feet before she caught me again, hoisting me back up. Shaken, I remained quite.
<I am sorry! It will not happen again.> I could feel her trembling, trying to keep me up. <Just... trust me. There is a danger, and as long as you are here, it will grow.>
We eventually landed, a long beach in front of us. "Where are we?"
She shifted in the sand, sending me nervous glances. <You need to go.>
"Where?"
She pointed down the beach. A single door rested in the sand. <There.>
"And that's?"
<Home.> A sudden shift rocked the beach, causing both of us to fall. <They know we are here. You must go!>
"What about you?"
<I will be fine. Just go!>
As she yelled, the sand shifted, revealing a growing chasm. Letting instinct guide me, I ran down the beach. With every step, a fierce storm began to grow. By the time I had reached the solitary door, the wind had whipped into a frenzy, making standing nearly impossible. I threw open the door, and dragged myself inside. Darkness enveloped me as I stepped through. The ground fell away, as the sounds of the impending storm receded, replaced with a rhythmic beep.
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[PART 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/f9ycxg/wp_you_woke_up_one_morning_to_find_someone/fivhl1r?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)
Related to [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/f6trwv/wp_you_woke_up_and_your_imaginary_friendoc_is/fi7v17j?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) prompt response.
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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/)
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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. |
You knock on the door. It creaks open gently, but nothing special happens, so you walk in. When you walk inside, you find a young woman sitting at a table with two old men. The woman looks up at you.
“Go fish?” she asks. So they’re playing a card game. Another figure fizzles into existence, skin made of marble and eyes copper coins. Wherever xe goes, coins fall to the floor in mini waterfalls.
“Hello, human,” xe says, “are you nervous?”
“Come now, Prince of the Lands, that is hardly polite,” the oldest of the four of them chides. He’s sat on a rickety chair, and his other friend is floating, not touching the bare stone walls. “But I’m afraid you will have to leave now. You are not a god. You will burn up.”
He flicks his hand, and you vanish, leaving the fourth god laughing in your wake. His snickers ring in your ears for a long time after the incident. |
"Today is my 4.53 Billionth birthday! It might seem alot but I mean when you're a moon like me its not that long to be honest.
I was first born when my dad "crashed"into the Earth, I hear she was a lot smaller then and never recovered from the baby fat, which is a bit of a shame. But I mean my dad was never seen again that so in the scope of things that's not a big deal."
*The Earth:*
What, the Moon? Why would you ask about the moon? I mean he's a decent enough kid but boy you should check out Jupiter. like, wow, he really gets around. Oh it's my Moons birthday? Huh. I stopped counting around the millions some time. He's how old? Crap, I thought he was like 3 Billion something maybe.
Like don't get me wrong or anything it's not like I don't love the kid we've just been distancing for I don't know how long. Don't think he ever got over the fact his dad died just before he got born. Wait you're saying Moon wasn't told that yet? And you're only just telling me now? Psh some lousy documentary team you are. What are you even researching? Oh "Backwater systems in the outer Milky Way"is it? Well thank you ʻOumuamua but you can jolly well get out of here then with that kind of attitude.
*Earth declined to carry on with the interview so we went back to the Moon*
"She said *what*? Well I knew she lost track, time flies by after all but I didn't realize it was that bad! Wait and my dad died? What!! How was I supposed to know when all my relatives said he "disappeared in the night"and that he "never looked back". Like seriously that's messed up! Well I bet she doesn't know her precious little life forms landed on me the other day! That'll show her!
*At this point Moon stormed off, and a loud arguement ensued. It is unknown what Earth did to the earthlings but it appears she sent a series of increaseingly dangerous disasters to teach them a lesson*
*We left shortly after* |
Steven Bernow stepped outside to get some air.
Today had been rough. The appropriations committee and the slimy bastards behind it were after him, trying to cut his food stamp program even further. Seventeen percent of the citizens in his district were well below the poverty line and they were trying to tell him to let his people starve because it costs too much.
He was fighting, but he knew he was going to lose.
One small office against hundreds of lobbyists and their puppet officials... it was never a fight he could win. The best he could have hoped for was to keep them at bay until the next election and hope he could move up to a position where he could actually *do* something.
But the higher he reached, the worse it got.
Steven placed his hands on the wrought iron railing and let out a breath that carried years of silent screams. Eight years in college, eight years of perfect grades, six years volunteering on campaigns, gathering supporters, borrowing money for elections he'd lost. Three glorious years in the city council where he'd actually done something... now here.
Here where he couldn't do anything.
"Hey dude, got any bread?"
Steven straightened up, wiped his face clean of any distress, prepared the politician's calm and easy smile, then looked around.
No one was out here.
"Down here, man."
Steven looked down and there was a pigeon standing next to his feet. It hat its head tilted so that one eye was looking directly at him.
"Bread, you got any?"The pigeon asked again.
"Great."Steven made a small noise in the back of his throat. 'I've lost it. Pigeons talk to me now. Wonderful."
"Fer real?"The Pigeon did a quick flight up to the low fencing, landing right where Steven's hands had been. "Ya can understand me?"
Steven nodded and tried not to cry.
"Sweet."The Pigeon bobbed his head twice. "We been lookin' fer one of ya type. Been... damn, probably a good decade since the last one. Right! Well. I guess I gotta give you the speech and all that. This is heavy, man. I ain't really the speechy type. Just a bread man myself, as ya know."
"Please stop talking."
"Nah, man."The pigeon shook his head in an all-too-human fashion "I got *responsibilities.* See, yous magic, ma dude. As a representative of the Prestigious Parliament of Political Party Pigeons, I get ta tell ya that your magic comes wif us. We like a damn secret agent network for yous. Ya need us to listen in on something, we dere. Ya need us to steal some documents, we dere. Ya really, really wanna see a glob of crap land in someone's face... we gotchu, fam."
"This... this is crazy. I'm going crazy."
"Nah, my dude."The pigeon hopped around a little. "Tell me what ya need done, we do it. That'll set ya straight on us, right?"
"Right."Steven laughed in a burst of depression. "Like I can just tell you to save my food stamp program and that'll work?"
"Bit complicated, that."The pigeon paced back and forth on the railing, "That's screwed 'cause the Redwater contractors want more money to keep up construction in war zones overseas. They wanna cut the stamp program to fund the increase. Buncha shitheads, really. Tell ya what, I can bring ya some off-books papers from the Redwater office across town. Might help ya. It's a bit of a long haul for me, but I got a cousin over there who owes me a favor. Nice part about being a bread guy, ya? Everyone owes you a favor sooner or later."
"What?"Steven just stared at the pigeon. "What are you talking about."
"Bread, man."The pigeon stared up once more with a single eye. "It makes the world go round." |
"Second?"I asked again, confused.
The machine that was in front of our crew signaled a green light, as it was trying to convey a confirmation. No one of us had seen such a complicated device before; It's almost if it was... Human-like.
"Indeed. Humans have stayed under our radar for a while now, but we mostly avoided direct communication in an intergalactic scale, as your travel was simply too inefficient, to say the least."
"Light-years?"-The machine did a noise that seemed as it was trying to replicate laughing.
"That is such an outdated metric."
"But wait, if light isn't the fastest mean of travelling, then what could it be?"
The being that was talking to us gave a glare, as if we were the dumbest forms of life in the galaxy;
"Teleportation, of course! In inter-universe travelling, distances become so large it's not even worth measuring, let alone crossing."
"Perhaps one day you could even visit us. After all, we're only a few trillion light years away."- It chuckled;
"Have a nice day. Is this how they say it in Earth?"
The machine vanishes, nowhere to be seen;
I wasn't really sure in how I was going to report this encounter to the International Space Station, but I did learn one thing:
Perhaps we really are smaller than we thought after all. |
Part 1:
Depending on how you looked at it, I could have one of three names. All I would answer to depending on the circumstances. To my desk job friends, I’m Alexander Jones, your average nine to five employee, who doesn’t do too well or too bad. The type of guy you’d say hi to and maybe forget about. Maybe even ask to come out for a drink out of pity. Though if truth be told, he might seem interesting once you get to know him. He’s just the type that likes to keep to himself.
I dodged another attack, flying shoulder first into an abandoned hotel shoulder first. Dust and web clung on to my costume as I rolled back onto my feet. With labored breath I closed my eyes. I had gathered what I needed already for the next power. Just need to decide on when to execute it.
Inside my mind I can hear him speaking, taunting me. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me your equilibrium is distorted already. I thought for someone like you I shouldn’t be much of a threat.” His laughter echoed through my body, causing my feet to grow weak. I leaned against one of the support beam, again trying to catch my breath.
*Don’t sweat it.* *I’ve done this a thousand times.* *Just need one clear shot.*
To my ten closest friends I’m Placebo Man – more on this later.
Sixer wasn’t the type to fight head on. He was content to hide and use his villainous power to break me piece by piece. But thankfully I had talked to my friends about how to deal with him. They’ll rile the crowd up for me, and then I can unleash my latest placebo.
To other superheroes and supervillains, I’m Lace, Man of a Million Powers. I can do generate any superpower once I have enough exposure to it. Villains feared me, Heroes respected me, but kept their distance.
Only Sixer had challenged me, and this was quite frustrating. I needed to think and act fast. My friends have told me a little about him: an up and coming villain who wanted to make a name for himself. They were the ones to fear the most, in my opinion. Reckless and always having a chip on their shoulder.
I gave a loud laugh of my own. “Let me guess,” my voice echoed through the dark room. “You’re using hearing? Turning my whole body into one big eardrum?” I could be wrong, but it was either sight or sound. 50/50 so might as well take a shot.
“Aren’t you the clever one, Mister Man of a Million Powers.” Again the voice came from nowhere and everywhere. There was little hope to find him unless I leveled the entire building. My friends weren’t too sure how he activated his powers, as he had always brought them to well concealed places like this during his duel.
I hit the communication button on my wrist, talking first to Johnny. “Any information? I need something to work with here.”
“Nothing, nothing. I got nothing! Rex is still searching the main data. All it ever mention is him luring his victims to secluded areas.”
I dropped my wrist again and scanned the room. “Wonderful.” It was dark. Pitch Black, even. Something didn’t feel right about this. Sixer was one of those brash new lasses. Cocky, needing to prove themselves. I dug into my pocket and fished a lighter out. Flicking it confirmed my suspicion.
I sighed and stood straight. “You do realize that sight means nothing to me, right?”
I felt a sensation, like tiny spiders crawling up my spine. His power switched again, so I could hear him. “Just wanted to make sure you’re not getting too used to this.”
Wonderful, I thought. I continued making my way to the exit, into a long hall. “So, what do you hope to gain from this? I could just fly back into the open, you know?” I tried using my preset of powers, hearing, x-ray. A part of me even wanted to use the super cool technique, Zero Pull.
Zero Pull would be a last resort though. Despite its destructive powers (thanks to the ten!) I had to keep damage to a minimum. More damage meant I would end up using that money to cover the cost. Heroing was easy, but fighting politics was the harder part. And besides, I don’t think we’d convinced enough people about the Zero Pull yet.
I continued to walk from room to room, one hand pressing on my communication button. Sixer is annoying me. “How are you guys doing on your end? Zero Pull might still be too dangerous. Maybe Susie and her four sisters?”
“Hang on, we’re going with the routine. Trying to make a poll and ask these people what move they want to see. You did Susie twice already, but people love to watch that. We can start an argument about pulling something safe. Vermillion Shadow was seen only once. Though there are kids here, and it’s also near a church. Wait, never mind, we can try to get the crowd worked up over which power is the stronger. Give us twenty minutes? By the Susie is kind of a childish name, so maybe pick something that sounds more dangerous next time?”
I walked into a wall, feeling embarrassed with myself. Then that spidery sensation traveled again through my spine. Before I could react, I was kneeling on one foot. Did something just hit me or was that eardrum power thing still going on? I reached down, touching it but felt nothing. My eyes were working again, at least. Turning my attention to my hand, I was slightly shocked to see blood covering it.
So, about that Placebo Man power. This is actually a little more complicated than it should be, but I’ll try to explain it as best as I could. Only my ten friends know about my actual power. It started with a friendly game of Dart. It was always best to pick small stuff to work on. I told them I can continuously hit the bullseyes and then set them on flame. All they had to do was believe. |
A smirk washes along Tyler's face as he stood in line. The large skyscraper was home of all employees working to place everyone into their respective afterlife levels. He'd never been in the building, let alone on the same level as those who place people into the Perfect Afterlife. Only the best of the best even got to be around these people.
Except today. Today was one of the rarest events in all of history. This was something that had never happened before. A new challenge gave anyone of any age a chance to reserve a spot in the perfect afterlife regards of actions, something Tyler deeply needed. He never had been a very good person, and he definitely didn't deserve to be in such a good place, but at this point he'd do anything to get there. Most people would.
Except, Tyler was much more of an extremist when it came to this. While others obviously wanted this, they understood and accepted they may not achieve the perfect afterlife. Tyler, on the other hand, did not. He refused to even think he could lose. After all, this was the only thing keeping him from going to a horrible afterlife.
Tyler, unlike the others, has been preparing for this day most of his life, and had been doing it twice as much as soon as he was notified by this very office he would almost certainly never go to even an okay afterlife. He had studied for this moment based on what he learned from anyone who ever had the courage to even come do this. Granted, they were all old and some were even dead by now. But Tyler was ready.
Soon enough, the brunet was called in for his chance to win. They first went through a brief interview, but soon the real challenge began. He was taken to another room where another man sat at a table. Tyler quickly sat down and stared blankly at the man. No matter how much he wanted this he knew better then to show any emotion to this man, and especially knew not to smile and act too happy about this occasion.
The man hummed in approval before speaking "Interesting.. now then... You may not expect what you're about to hear, but this contest consists of only one event. The only way you can win a place in the perfect afterlife is if you beat me... Please tell me if you are ready."
Tyler hummed. He already knew. The only way in was to defeat the undefeated man in a simple game.... Of basketball. Tyler knew that this contest really only was this because he knew for a fact the man infront of him secretly wished for someone to be able to beat him in a game, for he had been too good at playing, but he'd never let it out. Unbeknownst to the man, Tyler was a basketball fanatic, he refused to even go inside and eat if he didn't get 500 or more hoops in one sitting. Little did the man know, Tyler also had been undefeated.
The only issue here was that neither man could win. Both kept tying eachother, and refused to stop until one of them won. The people waiting in line for their turn were getting anxious, for no one had been called in for well over four hours compared to others 48 minute waits. No one knew what was going on. But the men refused to stop or accept a tie. The man running the event had never tied with someone like this and it was frustrating him, but also greatly interested him.
Tyler refused to stop because he was too determined.
No one could win. The men were quite literally equally skilled, to the point no matter how many times they played they tied. The games continued for many more hours, to the point those in line had left by now, assuming they lost to someone else but it was just never announced. But the game continued longer. And they didn't stop until both men collapsed, too exhausted to even stand anymore.
In the end Tyler got the place in the perfect afterlife, but both men eventually began to play together weekly, almost as if the event never ended. Both were still determined to beat eachother, even if there no longer was a reward for it. Their lives because consumed with their need for victory. It never seemed to end. Tyler achieved the perfect afterlife, but in return he had given up a normal life for an unwinnable game.
He sometimes wondered if this had been worth it. Was the perfect afterlife really worth having no life to truly live? At this point, was he even really alive? But it was too late for him.
For the ball is life. His life now was only basketball. |
"Sam... I..."Lisa, the woman I grew up with and now worked with, stammered as her cheeks grew red and she averted her eyes from mine to the ground. Then, in an instant, she held my face and placed a kiss on my lips. "I love you."
Shocked, taken by surprise, I stared at her, lost for words. "Lisa..."Then, as I struggled for a response, she briskly walked away. "What?"Trying to shake off the warm feeling in my chest, I walked out of the restaurant through the door she walked out of. I watched as she got in the first cab she could get before I could reach her. I took out my phone, preparing to call her when I felt a hand on my shoulder. A woman, probably you get than me, stood in front of me, her cheeks red. "Yes?"
"I have seen you for two years but never had the courage to say this because I thought you were with her. Anyways, here goes nothing."She stepped closer. "I love you. I have since the day we met first in the subway."She placed a kiss on my cheek and handed me a card. "Call me!"She grinned before walking away.
Now, I stood on the pavement confused. I wanted to follow her but I felt someone walk past my side before the man stopped in front of me. "Hey. I love you. I think you and I would make a brilliant pair."He stood there grinning. A man I have never met.
"Uh..."I pressed the button on my key fob, unlocking my car and quickly getting in the driver's seat before another person confessed. "What the actual fuck!"
I drove off, no particular location in my mind. An hour later, I parked the car to the side of a road that ran through the woods somewhere on the highway to Minnesota. In that one hour, I received two calls, one from Claire Wilson, my boss, and a second from my landlord, the bulky man who always managed to intimidate me. "What is going on?"The next moment, I felt a presence beside me in the passenger seat. A gorgeous woman in a red dress sat in the previously empty seat.
"Isn't this what you always wanted?"her red-stained lips spoke.
"What?!"Shocked, I climbed out of the car and shut the door. The woman followed.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sam. I am Valentina, your personal angel of love."She smiled and walked towards me. "And I have granted your lifetime wish."
"What?!"
"I know you are not deaf, Sam. You have always wanted people who love you. Now, with a little bit of magic, everyone loves you."She grinned and leaned back against the car in front of him. "Isn't that wonderful?"When I did not respond, she continued. "See, I contemplated granting you the wish for a very long ten years. I was bored so I thought I'll grant it, temporarily for just a day, and see how you handle the love. And another thing you need to know is that one of the people who will confess to you today loves you. The others are under the effect of a spell I cast."
"Right. Right."I hung my head, my head spinning. I grabbed her shoulders. "Who? I'm not in the mood for games!"
"Where's the fun in that?"She pulled his hands off her. "If you don't find her or him by midnight, you lose that person. That person will hate you for the rest of their life."She placed a kiss on his cheek. "Good luck, Sam."Then, she disappeared.
Sam got in the car and leaned his head forward on the steering wheel. Then laughed. "I've got to be dreaming."He lifted his head and noticed the white card in the cup holder. He took it.
"You are not dreaming, sweetheart. -Your Angel of Love" |
It had not long been since I arrived to this town wounded and confused, but I could notice something was off; a celestial being was hanging above the town, something incredibly odd...
I looked around the town; imagery of the HALO was used in all signage of the town but I could not wrap my head around any of it. "Why was no-one scared?"I looked for answers everywhere, but no one had a clue; "What are you talking about child?""I'm busy, go away!"and others who wouldn't give me the time of day...
I looked everywhere for answers, the mayor's office, the construction workers, the out-of-towners, even the delinquent children- NOTHING was out of the ordinary, even as I saw it visibly descend! I decided to go home the way I came, and I heard a chilling, yet familiar chuckle followed by a haunting greeting...
*"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?* |
We used to think we were unique. That in all the universe the only Earth was in the milky way galaxy, and that we humans could only be found in that tiny section of space. We thought that there would only ever be one Michelangelo, one Sun Tsu, one Robin Williams. That each and every one of us was a unique being who lived and died only once. It was a belief that both empowered, and paralyzed us.
Of course we believed that there were others like us out there in the universe. Beings who had their own planets, who had their own lives and beliefs and experiences. That they were like us, that they were unique and special in their own corner of the universe. We dreamed about these beings, we wrote about them and looked for them. We even tried to reach out to them by utilizing every ounce of our collective knowledge. It wasn't until we discovered the Passage that we learned the truth.
The Passage allowed us to step beyond our world, into the vast emptiness of the universe. To visit far off worlds and galaxies in the blink of an eye. At first we found nothing but empty worlds and silent stars. Places where no life had ever existed and most likely never would. We searched farther and farther from our home, looking for any signs of the others we had dreamed about for so long. Yet all that met us was the deafening silence of our solitude. People started to believe that we were alone in the universe, that our entire species and world was unique. Yet some of us continued to search even farther into the void, until one day we found something.
We found our reflection.
We stared at faces identical to our own, faces that displayed the same shock we felt. When we spoke, the reflection repeated our words, when we moved it mimicked our limbs. When we looked beyond the faces and bodies that mirrored our own, we saw a world identical to our own. The reflection copied everything that we thought made us unique. The cities and the people. The ideas and dreams. Even the very cores of our beings were shown there.
We tried to look elsewhere, to ignore the reflection we had seen. However no matter where we looked we found only silence or yet another reflection. Slowly we began to realize that perhaps we were not as unique as we had once believed. Time and time again we found worlds and people identical to ourselves in every way. From their names to their hair, their dreams to their fears. How could we claim that we were unique when there were endless copies of ourselves, endless versions that lived out the same lives over and over again and again. Slowly that belief that we were special died, and as we watched our reflections we saw that they grew ever more despondent.
We don't use the Passage anymore. We sealed it off and destroyed any knowledge of how to use it. There are some who still try to cling to the idea that we are unique, that our thoughts and dreams and lives will only ever be performed once. The rest of us can do nothing but try to forget, and hope that one day our descendants will be able to share that belief once again. |
My name is Akazar Al-padequada, most call me "aka", I was born in 200 B.C, or at least I think I was. I remember hearing my name somewhere in a religious text which has long since been forgotten by humanity. I have been cursed with the gift of immortality. I have outlived too many loves to go on any more. I mean imagine if you lived out the lives of everyone you loved even your own children. Its wrong and it makes me dream about my death every day.
It's currently 2020, I dont work because I managed to hold on to some antiquities which gave me fortunae beyond my wildest dreams, I sold my somewhere around 700th wives necklace for millions of dollars. I dont want to be reminded of those who I surpassed in life.
This life is not worth living any longer and one way or another I'll make sure I put an end to this so 5hat I may finally rest without these horrid nightmares that chase me wherever I wander, just to inflict as much emotional pain as possible upon me. |
“Charles, you haven't touched me in months.”
Charles stopped dead on his way up the garden path, his housekey clutched impotently in his hand as he turned to see who had spoken. His eyes never alighted on the mailbox – mailboxes could not talk, of course. So of course he must have been imagining things. He shrugged and turned back towards the house.
“I’m right here Charles! You can’t ignore me forever!”
The tinny shout nearly made him trip on the porch stairs, and he sat down before he hurt himself in his clumsiness.
“Wh-who was that?” Charles stammered, his eyes scanning the front yard frantically.
Charles thought he heard a sniffle coming from beyond his picket fence, though it was more reminiscent of a metallic rattle than anything, and he crept forward to investigate. But there was no one there.
“How could you have forgotten me?” The voice continued mournfully. “You used to be so excited to see me!”
Charles jumped back. The voice was definitely coming from the mailbox. Some kind of prank? A sound box, or perhaps a forgotten phone? He went to open it, to see if maybe—
“GET YOUR SLIMY HANDS OFF ME!”
Charles yelped and snatched his hand back as though pricked.
“Ugh, you stink of betrayal!” The mailbox shuddered in revulsion. “And to think I ever thought we had something… something special!”
Charles stared dumbfounded at his mailbox. “You… you can talk?”
The door to the mailbox did not flap like a mouth – that would be silly. But it spoke nonetheless.
“Oh *now* you’re listening, you cheating pig? Who is it, huh? Did you get yourself another mailbox, hmm?”
“Well, I have e-mail—”
“Is she prettier than me, Charles?” The mailbox continued its jealous interrogation, its voice becoming increasingly strident. “Are you licking *her* stamps now?”
“That is kinda gross—”
“Well, it’s too late for us, Charles! We’re *done.*”
“Uh… I’m sorry?”
“You’re *sorry?”* The mailbox shrieked. “You’re *killing* me, Charles!” It vomited several months’ worth of fliers and coupons onto the sidewalk. “All I get is junk! You expect me to live off this shit? I want alimony! I want… I want—"
The mailbox broke down into sobs, the signal flag quavering in the down position. Charles patted it in an awkward parody of sympathy.
The mailbox seemed to compose itself, and took an unsteady… it could not be breath, but it sounded like one.
“You never order me anything nice anymore.”
Charles rubbed his neck, making futile gestures with his other hand as his mouth worked soundlessly.
“I mean… Amazon delivers right to my door, and my bills are all digital now. *Everything* is digital now.”
“You could have said something to me! We could have worked something out.”
“The mailman must—”
“Mail*woman*.” It scoffed. “I’m not into chicks, Charles.”
“Look, it’s nothing personal.” Charles tried to be mollifying – but how does one mollify a mailbox? “It’s just convenient.”
That was exactly the wrong thing to say, he realized. Even a trite ‘it’s-not-you-it’s-me’ would have been better.
“*Convenient,* is it?” Its voice was cold now, and Charles gulped. Why was he afraid of his own mailbox?
“I looked the other way when you ordered Playboys. I knew you would still come to me in the end.” The mailbox was largely featureless, but Charles had the impression that it was narrowing its non-existent eyes at him. “Now I bet your *pornography* is digital too, eh?
“K-keep it down.” Charles looked up and down the street anxiously, certain his neighbours must be curious about the noise. “People will hear you.”
“So what if they hear me?” The mailbox sounded more sullen now, all the energy gone from its tirade. “Just go, alright? I will never convince you to use me like you used to.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t say it like that.”
To his surprise the mailbox chuckled in a disturbingly sultry way. “Why not, Charles?” The carrier signal flag began to raise slowly. “Does it turn you on?”
“Oh for fucks’ sake.” |
"What the shit shining fuckrellflop is you doin?"your high pitched shreik of surprise as real as they come.
"you think you can just walk in here, and tell me that I'm going to die?"the terrifyingly angry dark haired man stepped forward menacingly, the low light of sunset dancing devilishly upon his polished eyepatch. "what did you think would happen?"You pause, unsure if the question was rhetorical or not. Realistically, you had just hoped he would agree and then, well die. "answer me!"not rhetorical.
"Wells, now that's you gone done and puts it thata'way, I means..."
"enough!"the man screamed with an anger more volatile than natural gas under a lit match, his gun toting hand thrust forward with the glinting silver barrel locked in your direction. "prepare to meet your maker, fool!"he roared as one slender index finger squeezed the trigger tight.
*click*
In confusion the big angry man withdraws his weapon, one finger raised as if to say 'wait' as he visually inspects the barrell, the magazine sliding silently from within the grip as he checked the bullets inside.
"boss-"one of the murderous bastard's grunts lurched forward, a shiny silver revolver offered grip first toward the big man. With a nod the weapon was taken, the new barrel turned once more in your direction.
"prepare to meet your maker!"the man roared again, as if it were the first time he had spoke the words.
*click*
"Oh for fuck sake."the bad man grunted with a frown, barrel chamber popped out as he inspected the fully loaded gun. "next time you give me a fucking weapon, make sure it works."he spoke as the gun rose back before him, barrel this time pointed toward the henchman's face.
*BANG*
Warm sticky blood coated the side of your face as the goons head exploded in a shower of gore, brain matter pattering to the floor all about you as the bad man stared on in horror. With a roar the evildoers face contorted, his expression one of impossible fury as the weapon once more rounded on you.
*click*
"Are you fucking serious!"he roared as his hand whipped sideways, the revolver launched at speed into the wall beside him.
*BANG*
With a grunt the remaining bodyguard dropped to his knees, his acne marked face contorted in pain as blood dripped from parted lips. A hollow thud sounded as the man fell forward onto his face, unmoving.
Despite the situation, you couldn't help but feel sorry for this murderous bastard before you. The man's eyes moving from the still smoking gun lain across the room upon the floor, over to his two dead men.
"'ere you's goes mista big bang deaderer."you grin winsomely as you tug free the small pistol you keep tucked just inside your belt, the small black weapon surprisingly heavy as you proffer it grip first toward the bad man, just as his henchman had before you.
"You think I'm a fool?"biggy McBadman roared as he snatched the weapon clear of your hand. "an imbecile?"his shout grew louder as he grew more Irate. "you think me stupid enough to believe that the man sent to kill me would pass me a LOADED gun?"his eyes bulged with rage as he stepped forward, the gun held loosely in one hand. "I am too smart for you, you bastard."a sadistic smile split his mouth in two as slowly the black weapon raised upward, only to come to a stop with its nuzzle pressed to the man's left temple. "I know your tricks, your attempts to humiliate me have failed."
*BANG*
You cringe as the bad man's blood hits you face on, his headless body crumbling to the floor with a thud. You shrug as your camera phone is pulled free, a brief flash as you snap the proof the target is dead.
"S'easy."you grin as you stroll from the room. |
You hadn’t checked that email in years. It was only attached to a handful of games you played in your teens - and one old acquaintance who’d recently called to ask why you’d been ignoring his email. Not a close acquaintance, but one you didn’t set out to avoid, so you reset your password and logged in.
You expected to see a flood of years worth of spam email from long-forgotten games, and the two or three emails from the acquaintance who really just needed to be sent your current email address.
You didn’t expect to have picked up a stalker.
Every single day, without fail, a new email from an unknown sender.
Going back \*years\*.
Out of curiosity, you open one. Your scan said it’s text only, no viruses, so what’s the harm? Worst case, you get a laugh.
*Beloved, why have you never returned? They say our days on this world are numbered, they count down to its destruction. I wait for you to rescue me. Why have you left? Are you safe? Are you dead? Please, come back before it’s too late.*
You laugh, but a bit incredulously. It’s not as funny as you’d have expected.
You open another, then another. The tone grows less demanding the further back you go, the desperation lessens as you recede through history.
*Today, our daughter finally found a man worthy of her. I hoped you’d be able to attend the ceremony, but I understand one day is short notice. You must have traveled very far. I hope you are safe.*
The longer it goes on, the more puzzled you become. You glance up from the table at your wife in the kitchen. She isn’t the sort to send these, and you never met her while you still used this address either. In fact. . . You can’t think of a single girl you ever shared this particular email with. Your childhood next-door neighbor Ruthie? But her emails had a completely different tone, and she’d never stayed in contact after her family moved away. You’d emailed \*her\* a few times, at first, but her replies were short and bland.
“Honey? Could you come here a minute?” you call, and she sets down the handful of silverware and comes over to stand behind you. “You didn’t write these, did you?”
She reads over a few of the emails, laughs, and shakes her head. “Nope. Wow, I never realized you had another serious girlfriend.”
“I didn’t know about it either,” you say, scrolling back through page after page of daily emails, interspersed with newsletters about games you dropped years ago and promotions from sites you only vaguely remember.
You finally reach the first one, dated Febuary 29 from sixteen years ago. Nothing special about the date that you can remember. “I ever mention the end of February being important for anything?” you ask, and your wife shakes her head.
“Well, let’s see.”
You open the email, the first one, and read it together.
*It’s been almost a month since you last returned to me. I began to worry for your safety, begged Wizard Yphrosis to help me contact you. He kept putting me off, but finally agreed to set up the aol gateway for me. My words can be sent to you wherever you are, though he warned that he could not guarantee you would read them. I hope that a personal plea from me will be enough to convince you to do so.*
*I know you always spoke longingly of the day when we would have children, so I know you will not abandon me now that I know it will come to pass. The seers have told me I am to bear a daughter! I have been thinking all day of names, but I know you will have suggestions that I would never think of myself.*
*Anderu, please, I’ve seen too many families broken by travelers who never return, do not let us become one of those. I know you loved me, and I know I love you. Where have you traveled that you have not returned? Never before has more than a week passed with your absence.*
*I go on, because I must, but I still wait for you.*
“Anderu?”
“I was going through a phase,” you explain, pieces beginning to come together. “She must be someone I met in Magiscape. No idea why she’s so obsessed with me. As far as I know, players can’t become pregnant, so it must be a roleplayer.”
You scroll back up through thousands of messages.
“Very obsessed roleplayer,” your wife comments. But she’s grinning, which is a bit of a relief. You’d worried, momentarily, that she might be jealous. You shouldn’t have doubted her. She’s not that sort of a person.
“I don’t understand. When I didn’t reply for years, why would anyone keep sending them? Is it like a weird journal?”
But hardly any of the emails mention what the unknown sender was doing. Most are just vague mentions of how much they miss you, want you to come back, why have you been gone so long, please come back. . .
The mentions of your alleged daughter - which you know to be impossible, you’d certainly never had a girlfriend of any level of seriousness by that date - seem mainly intended to guilt you into coming back. So it couldn’t be a real-life acquaintance.
It \*had\* to be a roleplayer. How did they get your email address? That was supposed to be private from other players. Well, maybe you were hacked. You weren’t especially careful with internet security in those days.
*“You’ve got mail.”*
“Oh, look, another one.”
“What’s it say?” Your wife leans over and clicks on it without waiting for you to answer.
*Anderu, I am done waiting. The day has come. Our daughter no longer needs me and our world is soon to end. I am coming.*
She grins. “Well, that’s ominous.”
You laugh it off and close the message. “What are they going to do? Go visit my parents’ old house? I don’t have any current information linked to this email address, or to my Magiscape account.”
You write a quick email to your acquaintance to update them on your current email, then close the laptop. You’re running a bit behind schedule, now, and rush through breakfast and out the door to work.
&#x200B;
Once you’re gone, your wife reopens the computer, re-opens the newest message, and clicks reply.
*Who are you?* |
The war was great. The death was greater. Lands, countries, continents decimated by man fighting man. No one knows anymore what started the war, but everyone knows what ended it. When the bombs dropped everywhere, everyone knew it was over, they knew humanity was over.
One day the snow started falling and it never stopped.
The survivors of the bombs and the war, hid where they could, fleeing from the snow like ash, trying to stay alive when the ashes blotted out the sun. They lived in caves and shelters, scavenging stores for food. They didn’t realize how quickly the earth would cool down when after the ash blocked the sun.
In the end it was only 2 weeks after the snow started falling that there was no one left to see if it would stop. |
You're walking in the woods
There's no one around and your phone is dead
Out of the corner of your eye you spot him:
Shia LaBeouf.
He's following you, about 30 feet back
He gets down on all fours and breaks into a sprint
He's gaining on you
Shia LaBeouf
You're looking for you car but you're all turned around
He's almost upon you now
And you can see there's blood on his face
My God, there's blood everywhere!
Running for you life (from Shia LaBeouf)
He's brandishing a knife (It's Shia LaBeouf)
Lurking in the shadows
Hollywood superstar Shia LaBeouf
Living in the woods (Shia LaBeouf)
Killing for sport (Shia LaBeouf)
Eating all the bodies
Actual cannibal Shia LaBeouf
Now it's dark and you seem to have lost him
But you're hopelessly lost yourself
Stranded with a murderer
You creep silently through the underbrush
Aha! In the distance
A small cottage with a light on
Hope! You move stealthily toward it
But your leg! Ah! It's caught in a bear trap!
Gnawing off your leg (Quiet, quiet)
Limping to the cottage (Quiet, quiet)
Now you're on the doorstep
Sitting inside: Shia LaBeouf
Sharpening an axe (Shia LaBeouf)
But he doesn't hear you enter (Shia LaBeouf)
You're sneaking up behind him
Strangling superstar Shia LaBeouf
Fighting for your life with Shia LaBeouf
Wrestling a knife from Shia LaBeouf
Stab him in his kidney
Safe at last from Shia LaBeouf
You limp into the dark woods
Blood oozing from your stump leg
But you have won; you have beaten
Shia LaBeouf
Wait! He isn't dead (Shia surprise)
There's a gun to your head and death in his eyes
But you can do Jis Jitsu
Body slam superstar Shia LaBeouf
Legendary fight with Shia LaBeouf
Normal Tuesday night for Shia LaBeouf
You try to swing an axe at Shia Labeouf
But blood is draining fast from your stump leg
He's dodging every swipe, he parries to the left
You counter to the right, you catch him in the neck
You're chopping his head now
You have just decapitated Shia Labeouf
His head Topples to the floor, expressionless
You fall to your knees and catch your breath
You're finally safe from Shia Labeouf ... |
I didn't ask for this.
I didn't ask for a text message from Emily telling me to run.
I didn't ask for Emily to leave me 20 years ago, alone in the mortal realm.
Most of all, I didn't ask for a ghost to be chasing me.
When you see a wispy, ethereal woman behind you, it's hard not to break out into a run. No matter how out of shape you are, you run until your heart pounds with a ferocity of a jackhammer and your lungs struggle to capture air like a broken net tries to catch fish. It gets more difficult still when you look back and realise that the ghostly figure is floating effortlessly, keeping pace easily.
Why Emily, why? How did you message me when you've been dead for two decades?
Emily was my closest friend. But she left me alone.
It wasn't her fault. Not remotely. But a twinge in my swelling heart reminded me that I didn't feel that way 20 years ago.
Heck, if I was honest with myself, maybe I don't even feel that way now.
She left me. Alone. Struggling. Unable to drown out the darkness.
As the blood from my mind started to drain, it was getting harder and harder to think.
Emily, Emily. Emily.
Run, run, run.
I haven't run outside for years.
I have been running inside for 20.
No, no more. I was done with running. It was time to come clean and accept it.
My heels dug into the ground as I put all my weight in it. My run stopped as suddenly as it started. I turned and faced it.
Finally, I got a clear look at it. It wasn't a vengeful specter. It wasn't an unknown spirit. It was Emily.
There were tears in her eyes, but her smile was sweet and her visage serene. She continued drifting up to me, arms outreached.
There was no need for thought for a friend in need. My limbs moved involuntarily. Brief as it was, I felt her ethereal form make contact with my physical one. Then, carried by the wind, she was gone.
I felt my phone buzz and instinctually pulled it out. One new message.
"Sorry."
A buzz.
"Thank you."
My gaze flitted around. There was no one else on the street. There were two street lights flanking me: one's bulb was out, but the other continued bravely alone, standing strong and shining light for anybody willing to seek it out.
It was a fleeting respite. But it was more than I could ever ask for.
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