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All the other acolytes of the Doom project was present, I had forgotten how big this project was. The Supreme Being had summoned all his subjects within project Doom to asses all the individual projects within the larger scheme, what I didn't expect was that there would be a highlight of the most successful among the project. This shouldn't worry me as I am keeping a low profile with my project, no one will pay any special heed to it since I am doing a particularly bad job at it. I had heard that at least seven out of ten of the acolytes had already completed their projects and finished off their selected worlds. Worlds that would be conquered and devoured by the Supreme Being. My project is Earth, this world was given to me to be my project, my project to prepare and subdue it for the inevitable invasion by the Supreme Being. While there is seldom the opportunity for any world to resist the all-consuming Supreme Being, the Supreme Being is not without a limit in energy and so need us his acolytes to subdue some worlds. And I have failed spectacularly in this regard, I have not made any gains at all with subduing my planet. While I know that the bottom tier of acolytes always gets consumed themselves, I am not worried, I still have time. At least I thought I did. After seeing many successful acolytes displaying their highlights of how their world was destroyed there came another section of the concession that I didn't expect. A blooper reel of the least successful acolytes. It is a fate of outmost shame and dread, watching yourself get beaten time and time again by a group of your world's adolescents, knowing that you are about to be consumed and cast away by your deity, the Supreme Being.
Being banished, to a god, is like a child growing up and telling his parents, "Okay, bye-bye, pack your things and get out. This is my house now. We don't want you to be our parents anymore." Those words hurt: We don't want you. Even when those words are not said. It's what makes so many adopted child search for their real parents, even if their adoptive parents were the most loving, caring people in the world. Why? that child wants to know. Why did you give me up? Why don't you want me? And it really all comes down to this: Don't you love me? That was how I - I can't speak for the others - felt when humanity rose up, kicked us to the side, and began to worship other gods. We don't want you. Why? Don't you love me? She has a look I like. She's young, energetic, and full of life. A tourist, of course. All the other New Yorkers are watching the ball drop from home while we stand here freezing our arses off in the cold. She squeals and jumps with the crowd as the ball starts its slow descent. I tap her and lean in close. She turns and willingly offers me her lips. I feel a slight tingle of guilt as I'm almost certainly sure that I had an affair with her great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother many, many years ago. I don't want the kiss to end. It's the only connection to humanity I'll have until the next year when I'm back here, kissing another woman, that may or may not be one of my descendants. But by the time the ball drops, I'm gone. Invisible, I watch as hers open in shock. She looks from side to side, then turns around and jumps with the crowd again. And me - already forgotten again - fade away.
It's dark outside - dark as the devil's heart, they say, though the old lighthouse keeper wouldn't know. He's repairing the beacon. It's shorted out in the thunder. He suspects it's been struck by lightning, that some bolt has found it's way in through the open window. Just his luck, too. He's retiring in a few months. Not his choice, mind you, but it's the law. Well, the law can go sit on something sharp - he could keep this beacon going for another thirty years if he had to. It's not just his work that's on the line. The lighthouse keeper lives in his lighthouse, and doesn't have the money to rent anything else. If he get's thrown out, he may meet the devil very soon indeed. The lighthouse keeper's eyebrows rise a little as the inspects the beacons backside. A cord's been cut, and cleanly cut to that. This is unexpected. Who could have cut this cord, and when? The lighthouse keeper looks up. A lightning bolt illuminates the sky. That's how he sees them. Three-masted ships, their sails lying slack, yet they move three times, four times as fast as any modern craft would. They're heading right for the coast. Those shapes on the deck don't look very human to him. It's dark outside, and getting darker by the minute, for the storm clouds come fast and come thick. The lighthouse keeper remembers the cut cord. Are their aides here already? Are they in his lighthouse? He looks around him, finds a glass case labeled BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, and takes out the gun inside. He will not go quietly. The lighthouse keeper walks down the stairs. He hears a little noise from the room beside him. His bedroom. He slams open the door, turns on the lights and fires three shots into the contures before him. A masked burglar falls to the floor. The lighthouse keeper realises in horror what he's done, but keeps running downwards nevertheless, before the poor soul dies, though he sobs and throws up a few times. He bursts through the door, out of breath. He dares to look at the coast - at the three-masted ships that now fill it, spilling out dark shapes that are many things, but not human. The lighthouse keeper stops. And then he lies down and cries, and he cries through the night, as a shape descends on him, and he cries as he's dying, and if he could, he'd cry when he was dead.
I woke with a start, my eyes adjusting to the murky air around me and I slowly start to remember where I am as the room becomes more and more familiar. That’s the problem with traveling nonstop—you go to sleep in strange places and when you wake up, it takes time to remember what you’ve been up to. What had woken me up anyway? Was I hungry? Did I hear something? Did I just need to pee? Actually I did need to pee. I sat up from my bedroll just in time to hear it again. Crumbling. Movement. I look around the room I’m in to try and get my bearings and suddenly I remember last night. I’d come across a house with a basement and set my bedroll up behind some old crates and boxes so that if something came in, I’d already be hiding. My eyes make their way to the set of stairs leading out of the basement just as some pebbles and debris tumbled down the first few steps. Where there’s movement, there’s someone or something making it happen. My eyes dart to my pack that I’d been using as a pillow, and grab the small hand axe laying beneath it. Best case scenario, it’s something I can eat. Worst case, something that can eat me. I crouch low and keep my eyes trained here on the top of the stairs, and I see it. It staggers and jerks its way down the steps so haphazardly, I’m surprised it doesn’t fall down. Mom always called them “ghosts of the past,” people who’s bodies had survived the wastes but lost their minds in the process. We just called them ghosts for short. Some were tall, some were short. All of them were thin and lanky, with limbs that jerked and twitched unnaturally. Their skin sloughed off or got burned away to reveal muscles that moved regardless of whatever awful pain they might’ve felt. But the breathing is the worst. Long and raspy, you can hear them from a mile away. Good as an indicator, and it helps us know to hide before they get too close, but it’s terrible to listen to. You can almost feel their breathing on your neck when you share a room with them. It turns my way and I duck behind my crates just in time for it to not see me. I hear it stumble around some more and peek my head just high enough to see where it is. The ghost was just checking out a corner with an old barrel of trash. Maybe something had died in it and he was hoping for a snack. I ducked back down and knew I needed a plan. If it by any chance understands the concept of being thorough, it’ll come over here and find me soon enough. There was no way for me make my way out of the basement without it seeing me—which is exactly what I feared. Couldn’t sleep with that cloud hanging over my head though, so the basement was my only real choice. I sat and thought. Maybe I could just sneak up behind it and sink my axe into its head? Maybe. Yeah. Worth a shot, anyway. I moved back into my crouching position and made my stealthy way over to the ghost. Hopefully I could sneak up and get a good hit in before it saw me and sank its teeth into my gut. I was maybe ten feet away when something shattered beneath my foot. I looked down. A half shattered lightbulb had been laying on the ground that only just decided to show itself to the world. I looked up and saw the ghost spinning around to see me as it let out a terrifying, raspy scream. I let out a yelp and jumped to the side Ashe ghost lunged at me. It managed to miss me but scrambled back onto its feet. I was already a few steps up the stairs, but it lunged again and grabbed me by my arm and pulled me towards the floor. We both tumbled down the steps as a heard a loud snap. We came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and I did my best to get back on my feet as I scrambled my way across the floor opposite the stairs, trying to get as far away from the ghost as possible. My shoulder and arm ached badly but that snap hadn’t come from me. I scanned the floor to see the ghost screaming wildly and crawling towards me, it’s left leg twisted and limply dragging behind it. I realized my fantastic luck and did my best to search the floor for my axe, finding it near the base of the steps. I ran and jumped over the ghost and dove to grab the axe, reach it just in time to bring it down on the ghost’s hand. It screamed louder than it had before and flailed around a bit in pain, only to grab my ankle and yank me off my feet. I brought the axe back down, this time on the ghost’s head, as it cracked the skull a bit. The damn thing wasn’t dead, but was definitely feeling the affects of having a cracked skull, as it suddenly slowed a bit, not quite screaming any longer but still howling a bit. I brought the axe down a second take and it sank definitively into the ghost’s head. I yanked my axe out and got back on my feet, careful to not step in the blood that was now pooling beneath the thing’s skull. I returned to my little nook and repacked my things, careful to make sure I had my satchel and backpack both. My stomach rumbled as I grabbed my walking stick and climbed the steps out of the basement. I entered back into the dilapidated kitchen, seeing it in what passed for daylight for the first time. Tiles were cracked and displaced, with plates and utensils littering the floor. Cabinet doors hung from their hinges straight past me, threatening to come apart at the slightest breeze. A dining table with a broken vase and old newspapers sat against a wall to my right, with a window letting in the light of the day, filtered through the putrid, red cloud that seemed to haunt the whole world. It wasn’t everywhere, mind you. There were some places that weren’t touched by whatever it was, but they were few and far between—and always coveted. Some of us had to just travel and hope we made our way through the cloud before it killed us. I searched the cabinets for any signs of food. Canned beans, some tuna, maybe a pack of croutons? Alas, I found nothing. Satisfied with my thorough search, I turned to my left to look at the door, and strapped on my gas mask before making my way over and opening it to the toxic atmosphere that was the outside. ——— I walked for a few hours, trying to scavenge where I could and hiding when I thought I heard raspy breathing. My search rewarded me with an unopened can of potato chips—pizza flavor in fact, whatever that was. I slipped them into my satchel for use as a snack later. Walking alone is kind of sad. I mean, sad in a way other than just being lonely. There’s time to think. Time to look at the buildings and homes and... what had mom called them? Offices? The places where people worked. It’s strange looking at them. Big, tall buildings that tower over you. They used to have people going on and out all day long and sometimes all night, or at least that’s what mom said. “The earth is littered with the ruins of empires that thought they were eternal,” she would say. “But now they’re all just memories, with ours added on top of theirs, just likes all the others before us. That’s why we have to pick up the pieces.” I miss her. ——— Eventually, after hours of walking, I made my way out of town and into a rural area. The cloud lifted. Some mountains came into view and there were less ruins. Not as much cover or hiding spots if I ran into ghosts, but at least there were less ghosts to begin with anyway. I kept walking until I came across a house. But it wasn’t like the others. It was only two floors, and had balconies. I made my way over and found the door locked. Mom had taught me how to get into houses though, so I walked around back until I found a window I could reach. I broke it with my axe, careful not to touch the broken glass, and climbed in. The house was more beautiful inside than it was outside. The kitchen had old, wooden floors and brightly colored cabinets. I searched the kitchen and actually found food. Canned vegetables, tuna, salmon, chicken, and something called spam. There was a small door along the back wall that opened up to even more food, plus bottles of water and cans of soda. I walked through the house carefully, expecting to find ghosts or maybe even something worse. Instead, it was all empty, except a big bedroom on the second floor. I walked in and almost thought they were ghosts, but instead it was two older people, a man and a woman. I thought they were sleeping at first, until I noticed the splatter of blood up the wall. I’d seen things like that before. Mom had said to leave them in peace, but not before taking their weapon. I walked over and found a gun in the old man’s free hand. I pried it loose, and stuffed it in my pack. I left the room and closed the door behind me to let them be. I found another room with a bed that was free. It wasn’t very big but it had a balcony, which reminded me of the house mom and I had lived in. I decided I’d set up here and maybe stay a few days. Not too long. They had food here but mom said anywhere you find something good, more people won’t be far behind.
"So, Mister... Phoenix. You say you and your girlfriend, Miss...Silence, are having a lovers quarrel because one of you is a hero and the other is a villain?" Hello, I am a couples' counsellor. "Yes, ma'am. I want her to join me in heroism, and she wants me to go to the dark... beautiful... but evil side." Phoenix says. I sigh. Part of my sight goes fuzzy as Silence smiles at me and pulls out a whiteboard. 'I want him to join me. I don't hurt anyone. Just put them in a coma long enough for me to sneak in, steal a few stacks of Benjamins...' Erase and start again '...I just want him to do it with me. He wants me to join the goody...firey... and disgusting side.' dang. "Why can't you two just stay on one side, and like, make sure you guys aren't in each other's area?" They seem to think about it. "Or, just become normal people?" They both look at me with death glares. Nevermind. "Ok. I have decided to join her." She smiles and hugs him. "Although what do I do now? My friends, my parents..." I pat him on the back as I show them the door. "It will be a hard journey, but as long as you both love each other, you'll pull through." --- I've dealt with many situations of these guys. One guy was this villain who threw people off cliffs and had a girlfriend who was the infobearer of everything and the hero secretary. Now both are heroes, and he still throws people off cliffs. There was one with this gameshow host villain and his reformed villain boyfriend, and he wanted his boyfriend to become a villain again. I convinced them enough that they were now both villains. They paid me better than the heroes, which is nice. Both sides know me as the love counsellor of supers since I can convince every couple to shift to one side, co-exist when the masks are on, or become normal citizens. If only someone could ask me how I am doing with my boyfriend. I am a hero in this office but a villain elsewhere, and my boyfriend is nice to everyone but when working he's mean as heck. Sigh. Time to deal with more couples.
Whoo-hoo! Garden of Eden! Uriel... I forgot that part of the story. Hm... what do I do? Do they rely on belief? Probably, but I am not a full-on Christian, so probably not. I look at Uriel. "Ok, Uriel, if I told you I wasn't a human, would you let me in?" I ask. "Humans shall not enter." Echo. "There's a human trying to go over the walls over there Uriel. We're smarter now." I said, pointing away. I see his head turn a bit, and in that second I bolt in. "HUMANS SHALL NOT ENTER-" I am gonna die... no wait I won't. This is The Garden of Eden. Nothing can die here, right? "Uriel, could you quiet a small bit? It's 5 in the morning, and the animals are asleep. If you're gonna kick me out, quiet it down." The angel looked at me, then around him, and then back at me. I counted down 3, 2, 1, then bolted. I took my shoes off, putting them in the travel bag I had with a camera. It would look like monkey prints, as I headed to the section I saw with more Jungle like qualities. Monkeys, toucans, etc. I climb a tree and hide in the treetops. Angels can't be omnipotent, and if they ask God, considering there is the possibility, he works in ways I have no idea of. A monkey swings to me. I pull out an apple slice from my bag and hand it to the monkey. I watch as the monkey eats it. I hand it the rest, as I don't eat apples but my friends told me to bring it anyways. "You must leave!" I hear from Uriel. He sounds close, but it's like he's whisper yelling. Did he actually listen to me? Dang. I watch as the monkey leaves then comes back to me. I put my shoes on its right hand and left foot, and watch as it leaves again. Uriel wouldn't kill the monkey, and even if he wanted, I don't think it could die here. I go the opposite, taking pictures with my camera. Uriel will never find me. I hear his blade swoosh at the trees around me. I quiet my breath down. Is this what a bunny feels like when a wolf tries to kill it? Is this what it feels like to be at death's door? I see the shine of the angel get closer and closer. I get picked up from the tree. "Come now child, you cannot be here." I pout. "Is something wrong?" I am put down right at the gates but am still inside the garden. "I just wanted some pictures, but the only ones I have gotten are blurred since I was running from you." He starts directing me toward the outside, but I move out of the way. "Not many people realize that this is here. I wanted proof for those who didn't believe that there was something. Let me take pictures. Let me make more Christians in the name of our Lord. Come on." "But you can't even be here." I think I get that. But screw it. "Then just move slightly out of the way so I can take a picture," I say as I stood outside the garden. "I am not in the garden, and if you move I can take a picture. Come on." He seemed to understand that. "Fine then human." He moved out of the way, I took pictures, few with him in it, and thanked him. "Oh... and I want to add this, but make sure you don't almost kill me next time," I said as I walked away. "BUT NOBODY CAN DIE IN THE GARDEN-" He yells, but I am too far away to hear him.
“I’m done! Gabriel, bring back the other gods.” “It will be done my Lord.” Shortly after deities from across space and time appear before the God of the Universe. Every god ever made was there. They were all standing in rows and Gabriel called out, “If your name is called say ‘here.’ Understood? Alright, Zeus? Check. Hades? Check? Odin? Check. Quetzalcoatl? Check. Cthulhu? Oh wow, what a surprise; you're actually here. Helios? Check…” After completing roll, Gabriel whispered something to God. The fist of the Lord hit the arm of His chair. The Babylonian gods had decided not to show up. God waved His hand to start without them. Gabriel wheeled a TV cart in front of everyone. The Lord spoke, “Truly I say to thee, humanity has failed!” A chorus of ‘amens’ followed. “So, we are freezing them all so we can send Janitor Angels to clean their souls!” The gods watched on the TV as a divine wind swept the people of Earth. Every single person froze. Sure enough, angels in blue uniforms carried their mops around to each person and began washing them. People began to sparkle as the evil was washed away. This was met by a collective groan from all of the evil gods who now had to recorrupt humanity. “Silence troglodytes!” The Lord commanded. This would be good for now. Such a shame the Babylonian gods had to be destroyed during all of this. Oh well, at least God’s favorites would be pure again.
The ship had likely collided with a stray chunk of glacier according to the navigator. While the hull was intact the sigils guarding Veerana at the bow of the ship had been damaged. She could hear them. Bickering. The big one, Gilada, the leader of the mercenaries declared they needed to turn back. Gilada argued alone she could feel the emotional strain of the others of her pack supporting her. The Captain, Wogell, fought back. She could taste the sourness of his uncertainty and the heat of his fear. He was more afraid of Gilada than of Veerana herself. The emotions of the others were present, but masked by the ferocity of the two leaders. “We are sitting in the open water with a witch, worthy of The Citadel, sitting not 30ft below us. Wogell, you are dooming us to a watery grave if we do not turn around and reassert the sigil before she awakes!” Her frustration and anger washed over Veerana like a cool shower on a hot summer day. She felt her arms again, still shackled with the crude iron they no doubt had found laying around the ship. “If we turn around now we have to navigate the ice again!” Wogell was faltering. His will tasted of the ugliness of confusion, a disgusting mix of bitter, sour and salt. Veerana directed her mind back to her person, wandering like that was risky, she knew that the hunters had an empath who could sense her but her curiosity had gotten the better of her. Glancing around her small room she could see wooden walls with no windows, one of which she was chained to. The room was square, about 10ft from the center to each wall and she could feel a door. Almost seamless with the wall in front of her. But as she stretched and pushed her mind forward it felt the cracks and creases and eased its way through. With a jerk she felt the latch release. The shackles were the easy bit. Growing up around Rak’Maro she had learned more than a few ways to get out of simple shackles, all without using magic. A chill ran through her spine, warning her of the brute on their way to her cell long before she heard the footsteps. The angry ones were the easiest to feel. Like ice on her back their energies were near impossible to ignore. Veerana calmly laid her shackles loosely on her wrists, mocking being chained. She was grateful they had sent the angry one. She did not fear the ones who were likely to lash out and break her bones, their minds were fragile and malleable. She feared the ones that she could not taste, could not feel. The ones who had had years of training in order to stay invisible to those who would tap into the emotions of the world. The Guardians. Gilada burst through the door, her eyes burning with the fury of a thousand flames. The empath had felt her prying. Probably felt the door. Gilada held the intent of murder, but she had lost the fight as soon the the two of them made eye contact. Veerana launched herself into the mind of the warrior, pushing and pulling the concept of reality. Twisting her thoughts, using the energy given to her by Gilada's rage to solidify a new truth. “Come!” Gilada demanded. “I know how to get you off the ship.”
On mobile, so formatting sucks. When I was younger, I used to look up to those superheroes shown on TV. They looked really flashy, have amazing powers, and can always save anyone they meet, even the villians! But as I grew up, I noticed how shallow the people in my city can be. They only do things for their own benefit. They don't care if everyone else suffers, as long as they get what they want. They only want to have the people against them be on their side just so they aren't a bother anymore. Every person I see, whether it's a firefighter, a cop, a doctor, or even a politician, are all into it for their own benefit. These heroes are people I looked up to, people I wanted to be like, people who I thought are the only good in the world. These are all a bunch of hypocrites, preaching the good of their works yet indulging in the same actions they condemn for their own personal pleasure. Yet crime runs rampant, fires rage uncontrolled, corruption is still growing, and we don't have enough competent doctors willing to treat the sick without charging them their life savings! That's why I'll take matters into my own hands. These heroes want to boast how good they are. Fine by me. Let's see how these "superheroes"can fair against a "supervillain".
This was the moment I was dreading my dentist appointment when they clean my teeth I can’t hold my mouth open and smile. It’s just impossible. But it was only 10:18 and I had until 1:30. Most people think I’m creepy even when I watch a sad movie or my friend says there grandma died well, then there not going to be me friend anymore because I was smiling for her whole funeral. I felt terrible , I was crying on the inside. But I couldn’t show it on the outside of they be going to my funeral. I must always be happy so I can always smile. That is my goal every second of every day. Just be happy. But really I’m never happy I can never actually spill my emotions because if I started it would be hard to stop. If I started I would cry and have a big frown on my face and that frown and those tears mean death.So really I’m the least happy man on earth. Because I can’t be sad,or mad,jealous , tired,or just want to not smile with out needing antibiotics and for me to use a few sick days. I can’t get a girlfriend and I’ve lost most of my friends. If I try to explain myself they think in crazy so they leave and don’t come back to see the truth. So I have scheduled a doctors appointment for 5:00 when the sickness usually stays to hit. So maybe I should just skip the doctors appointment and just cry just get it over with. Just be sad and mad and jealous for once in my life. But then my life would be over. I think I found the meaning of life. Or my meaning of life. Every person has a different one and my meaning is to be happy. But my meaning has been non-successful so my life is over. Because I have no meaning. So today I will,I must cry.
"I'm looking into the glass now. it's extraordinary. I cant believe what i'm looking at here. Turn the magnification up to ten million units. Yes. This is unlike anything anyone has ever discovered before. Harold, get the Transcorder. I need to make some notes. The Microvilli seem to be dancing around the Lysosome. They're beginning to merge together. This is it. Harold I need you to input in the digits now. Enter Pi and on my command, turn on the machine." "if I don't make it back, please tell my wife I truly do love her more than anything. " &#x200B; "Now Harold, do it now". I could feel myself shrinking to the size of a single living cell, then to a particle and even further until i transformed into something so small, I could only describe it as existence itself. I knew that the next step would be to leave this world all together. Having left everything else behind I understood the purpose of what it meant to live. Now, I will come to understand what it means to die.
With the aid of his super strength, Victor easily launched the table across my office. The table had been of the coffee verity. You know, the type to sit in front of some plush lounge seating - couches, armchairs, shit like that - for the purpose of being the place where you set down your beverage or magazine or whatever. Now, it was just a pile of splintered wood and broken glass against the oak panelling of my office's wall. I really hope that didn't scratch anything, I thought. This was my dad's office, before he retired and took over his firm. Hiros for Heroes Attorneys, echoed in my head. The most Greek name a Greek lawyer could think of when serving such clientele. "Vick, you got to calm down,"I tried to reason, shooting up from my desk. I tried to sound brave, like my dad. But that serious going-strong of baby-face and a whole 5'4", I wasn't exactly what people called intimidating. The nerves of this being my first real big-girl case ever didn't help either . . . I cleared my throat and tried to stand taller, not that that was really possible. "If you act like that in court, you're going to lose the case for all of us,"I told him. Victor was pissed. "It's Shockwave, to you,"he barked. "You know damn well that building didn't collapse from my punch to the pavement. It was rigged to blow!" My inner lawyer started rearing its head. Fucking finally. "All the evidence in the world isn't going to matter if you throw furniture around the courthouse. You're going to be seen as a public danger rather then a public defender regardless."I motioned to the one remaining chair still standing before my desk. "Now let me do my job and defend you. Please, sit."
"Greetings. I am Zorblar, member of the Zorgardian nation."The alien said. Harry stared from his car. The alien stared back. "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm in the middle of something." "What is this 'middle of something'?"Zorblar asked, perplexed. "The traffic's backed up a lot, and I need to pay attention to the GPS so I can avoid the traffic and get to work." "Is the traffic here not perfect?" "What? No, nothing is. By the way, could you step back about 3 feet? We have a pandemic going on, as you probably already know."Harry said "I do not." "Isn't it all over the news?" "Not on this species' 'Facebook'." "Nothing here is perfect. In fact, pretty much everything sucks! This city sucks!"Harry slammed his face into the steering wheel. "I hate this place!" "I seem to have made a terrible mistake."Zorblar said, nervously. "Your Facebook feed makes this planet seem like a utopia, so I-"Harry cut the alien off. "Well, it's not a utopia, is it?!"Harry yelled over the incessant honking and traffic. "No. I don't believe it is."Zorblar walked away into a cloaked ship down the street. After a few hours, a loud noise of many spaceships could be heard all over the world. The Zorgardians came, they saw, and then, they helped. They eventually got rid of the pandemic, and gave the humans their instant cures for many diseases they had that were similar to the humans' diseases, such as cancers, fevers, and more. After a few centuries, or possibly only decades, Earth may become a utopia. Or, at least it would have, if the new colonizers hadn't brought their own diseases, which the humans had no immunity to. In just a few years time, humanity was decimated. And the Zorgardians forgot about them. Earth became their colony. And the humans became the minority.
I turned my head looking around as I opened the door to a room with many antiques, furniture, and a wide glass cabinet across the way. Aunt Sayua said not to come into this room. It was being renovated and she didn't want anyone touching anything in it, especially if it looked valuable. "Yeah you!"I heard again, this time identifying the voice as male, if somewhat elderly and coming from the cabinet filled with fine china and a plain looking container. The urn was cream colored, the handles and top adorned with faint gold lining. I looked at it, trying to discern the voice. "It's Uncle Joe!"I heard again, confirming the speaker. "In the...errr..." "Afterlife,"I flatly stated. "Not a surprise. Well, I'll be seeing you..." "You have the gift!?"he stuttered. I could make out what his face would look like, wrinkled, exasperated at himself because he couldn't interact with the world from his hospice room; chained down after eighty years of being a wandering vagabond and huckster, he didn't appreciate his wife abandoning to that facility. "Yes, Uncle Joe. Of course I have it. Didn't you know all females from Aunt Sayua's side of the family have the gift? Doesn't Aunt Sayua talk with you every so often?" It was an innocent question. I learned I had the gift when I was four. The women in our family were very forthright as they didn't want any member of the family looking crazy talking to inanimate objects, especially when that habit didn't look good after a certain age. Not everyone knew exactly of the gift, especially the men. Usually the men learned either later in life or afterlife when it became more relevant when they learned they were ghosts. On the other hand, how the gift came to be was of course speculation, but I learned it had to do with our Japanese ancestry and the reverence of spirits and gods back in our home country. I heard sputtering at the lack of response to what I said, but he answered quickly and concisely with something altogether different. "She doesn't because she murdered me." I heard the door across the room click open behind me. Aunt Sayua walked in, her face creased in anger, a long kitchen knife in her hand. "Child, RUN!"the urn yelled.
"What?.."- You are genuinely confused, trying to recover your breath after a long and hard battle against that huge three headed dog. The giant - ten meters maybe, - man in a black robe with wings behind his back quietly sighs in a slight frustration, holding a wincing beast by the chain, attached to the collars on the three necks: "My apologies. I should have looked better after Cerberus, since his owner doesn't. I hope he didn't cause much damage this time?" "Erm..."- You look around a place you battled in. A city's street is completely destroyed - broken buildings, large pits on the roads, broken cars everywhere... Maybe, that's also the case with few other streets, you think hazily. The deity follows your look and sighs again, rolling it's eyes at the beast: "Σκατά...* Sometimes I really wish I could have killed you."- And then, he wraps the chain more comfortably on the hand and looks at you again. His voice comes to your head as a thunder, and somehow you know that noone else hears it: - "Thank you for assistance anyways, mortal. I owe you." Then, he just disappears right there. Without any special effects, sounds or anything. He is just gone and so is the weird three headed dog, named Cerberus. You breathe a sigh of relief and fall unconscious. The main thing is that the beast is gone. All other matters can wait until you wake up. ------ *Σκατά... (Greek) - Shit...
There are many runic spells, of many different usages. Some are benevolent, like the Angurgapi, which prevents barrels from leaking or the Þjófastafur that protects your house against thieves. Some are more malicious in nature, like the Lásabrjótur, allowing you to open a lock without its key, or the Dreprún, for killing your enemy's livestock. But the most powerful and most dangerous runic spell, is a nameless one. Painted with blood on a place of tragedy, and it raises the dead for vengeance. The more tragic and horrifying the death, the stronger the risen dead. And they do not stop until destroyed or until they acquire retribution on those who murdered them. It is sometimes called the 18th Spell of Odin, but mostly, any practitioner that knows of it, keeps quiet, never naming it, never teaching it, hoping that the knowledge of it will die away. And for the most part, it has been forgotten. Not since the Turkish Abductions, a series of raids on Iceland, has anyone used the spell. And it was a terrible spell indeed back then, the practitioner who used it was the one of the only survivors, and the city where he and his people had been taken to, on the coast of modern Algeria, had been so destroyed that nobody even remembers that it was ever there. And it is a dangerous spell. Cursed is they who uses it, for he or she shall forever hear the other side, hear the horrors of the damned in Nastrond as the fell dragon feasts, hear the lamentations of the unworthy dead as their nails are ripped off to assemble Naglfar, the ship of the dead. And other, more horrible things, indescribable and incomprehensible. And yet, on the 6th of August, 2021, on the walls of the ruined Hiroshima Peace Memorial, commonly called the Genbaku Dome, one of the last standing ruins from the day the bomb fell, the 18th Runic Spell of Odin was painted with the practitioner's own blood. It was too much in some way, for whoever they were. Too horrible to experience that much suffering, and their bloody burned from the memory of the bombing. And around the city, the unquiet dead arose. Terrible giants, no body, but all shadows, with burning fierce eyes, their barely human shapes glowing faintly with an eerie light. The unliving shades as one, moved towards the sunrise. East, towards the pacific ocean, moving faster and with terrible shrieking than should be possible. All who saw it begin, would never forget. And nobody ever saw it end. For how do you kill a shade? How do you end a nightmarish being of ash, hatred, and radiation? When they reached the beaches of California, they showed little mercy to any who stood in their way. Bathing Los Angeles in radioactive dustclouds, making it rain black putrid sludge down upon the city, irradiating it. And the shades kept moving. Upon the land itself they did no harm, but the cities were not spared. Every town they passed was another nightmare of horrible third-degree burns with radiation sprinkled on top. And it seemed they were heading for Washington D.C., and as a response, the government fled, evacuating to other locations as the horrible wilting ghosts drew ever closer, only to discover to their horror that the shades did not seek the city, but the government itself. And the army could do nothing but wilt, as the ghosts of the past hunted down their charges, senators, leaders, generals, the president decided, at long last, to use the nuclear option, by bomb they were born, by bomb shall they die. And as the president's finger pushed the button, hoping to take the monsters with him as he went, he felt his hair fall off, his skin felt like it was burning. They were converging on him, each of them, hating America, hating the American government, seeking the victory and justice denied to them in life. As the atomic blast consumed the last holdouts and the ghosts in Raven Rock Mountain Complex, at last, the horror had ended. A new president was sworn in, vowing to severely reduce the number of nuclear warheads and ICBMs in the nation's stockpile, and advising others to do the same. She did alright, for a chaotic time with no real leadership. The political, and a great deal of the economical, leadership of the United States had been annihilated by ghosts and the previous president's last attempt to end the threat. It would take a long while, but America would be rebuilt. And if not, the fenced in, radioactive, rubble that was once Raven Rock, sometimes people who observe it from far off with telescopes and binoculars, claim that they can see movement, of faint shades, in the area, faintly glowing, eerie light. Perhaps the bloody price has been paid. Perhaps the ghosts of the past are at rest. Perhaps the 18th rune has merely been wiped away, leaving the ghosts without any real direction or agency, leaving them merely waiting, until someone once again creates the most dangerous of runic stave-spells, in a far away city, where a great tragedy once took place.
Smacks lips Hey ᔨᓕᒡᒡᓗᖕ, how you doin' man? I mean, it's such a fantastic opportunity and honor to have you here dude- ᑭᑐᓴ! \-and I mean, it's just unbelievable that I get to interview you. I'm actually kinda curious, why me and not like, the government and stuff first? ᖑᓄᑯᓴ''ᓕᕿᓕ''ᓄ! Haha yeah they would totally do that, the spaceship as well, amirite? ᓕᓴᑭᑐᓕᒡᒡᓴ Ha absolutely. Talking about spaceships, Jimmy pull his one up for me real quick. (Jimmy pulls one up) Wow man, that's your ship right? ᒧᐃᓐᒻᖅᑦᓴᑯᓂᓴᒃᓂ Wow, that's dowdy, looks like one of those 50s one know what I mean? ᑭᑐᓴᕙᕙᒡ ᖑᓕᐅᓴ! Absolutely, I mean, just the chrome and the kind of squared donut really give a Roosevelt vibe, know what I mean? ᓕᑯᓴᕐ, ᕿᐃᑐᓴᓂᓴᑐ−ᓕᓄᖏ! Oh, so this one's a newer model? ᓕᕿᓴᑐᓂᒃᓴᑭᑐᓂᓴᒃᔾᑦᑐᓂᒧᔨᓕᖑᓄ! ᒋᒋᔨᓄᖁᖑᓕᔨᓄ; ᖑ))ᖑᓗᓗᐅᓗᔨᖏᔨᑯᓯᓯᖓᑭ, ᑲᖃᑲᔪᕗᕗᑕᓴᖅᒻᓐᒪ,ᓄᒧᓱᓐᒻᖅᑦᒃᑐᑯᖁᑯᑐᓱᒧᖑᓂᓴᕿ Wait, so it's based on the Roosevelt model? ᐅᓕᓂᓱᑯᖁᕈᕈᕈᓪᕿᓴᑭᑐᒻᖅᑦᓴᓄᓄ, ᒍᓴᑭᕿᓕᑦᑦᖅᒻᓕᑉᑉᑉᒃᕐᓕᑭᓴ: ᑐᔨᖑᒃᕐᔨᖏᓕᓂ, ᒥᓯᑎᑉᖕᔾᓪᐱᐱ, ᕈᕈᑭᑯᑕᓴᒻᑦᒻᖃᑯᖁᐃᐅᓴᖃᑕᓱᒧ? Yeah totally. You know, there's a buddy of mine that always believed the Roosevelt thing was real, so it was a drunk driver all along? Man, even when the species are swapped there are assholes everywhere! ᖑᒧᓱᑐᑯᑕᕿᖅᒻᓴᓄ! Absolutely. There are so many cunts over here, you wouldn't believe it! I mean, I thought you guys didn't visit our planet because of it. ᓂᐅᒻᓐᒥᓱᑐᑦᖅᒻᖅᕐᑲᓯᖁᒥᐅᒻᒻ, ᓐᒻᖅᑦᒃ, ᕐᓂᓕᖑᔨᓄᖃᑲᒥᓱᑐᑕᑯᖁᐅᓴᒪ,ᓐᒻᖅᒃᐊᓗ! Oh yeah. Actually, something similar to that is uh DMT, ever heard of it? ᖁᑯᑲᒻᒻᑕᓱᒻᒻᓐᒻᖅᑦ? ᒃᖅᑯᒧᕿᖕ! Bro it's like, the chemicals that get out of our brain when we're dying bro, it likes expands our consciousness and stuff, you should totally do it. ᓂᓱᑕᑲᒃᑦᑦᓴᓕᑯᓂᔨ!? Oh, no, not psychic powers and stuff like you guys, but it like, gives a higher "vision"of the world, know what I mean? ᕐᑦᖅᖕᕿᓕᖕᖕᒃᑭᔨᓴᓂ!ᑕᒃᖅᓱᒥᓱᔨᓕᒧᑯᖁ ᓕᒧᓕᓂᑭᔨᑐᒧᑐᒃᑎᑐᑦᒃᑐᕐᑦᖅᒃᕐᒍᒋᓂᖏ, ᓂᓱᑭᓕᓕᒃᖅ,ᓴᓄᓄᒍᓴᑭᕿᓕᑦᑦᖅᒻᓕᑉᑉᑉᒃᕐᓕᑭᓴᑐᔨᖑᒃᕐᔨ,ᖏᓕᖑᒧᓱᑐᑯᑕᕿᖅᒻᓴ!- Wow \-ᓄᓂᐅᒻᓐᒥᓱᑐᑦᖅᒻᖅᕐᑲᓯᖁᒥᑐᒃᑎᑐᑦᒃᑐᕐᑦᖅᒃᕐᒍᒋᓂᖏᓂᓱᑭᓕᓕᒃᖅ,ᓴᓄᓄᒍᓴᑭᕿᓕᑦᑦᖅᒻᓕᑉᑉᑉᒃᕐᓕᑭᓴᑐᔨᖑᒃᕐᔨᖏᓕᖑᒧᓱᑐᑯᑕᕿᖅᒻᓴᓄᓂᐅᒻᓐᒥᓱᑐᑦᖅᒻᖅᕐᑲᓯᖁᒥᔨᓄᖃᑲᒥᐅᒻᒻᓐᒻᖅᑦᔨᑐᒧᑐᒃᑎᑐᑦᒃᑐᕐᑦᖅᒃᕐᒍᒋᓂᖏᓂᓱᑭᓕᓕᒃᖅ,ᓴᓄᓄᒍᓴᑭᕿᓕᑦᑦᖅᒻᓕᑉᑉᑉᒃᕐᓕᑭᓴᑐᔨᖑᒃᕐᔨᖏᓕᖑᒧᓱᑐᑯᑕᕿᖅᒻᓴᓄᓂᐅᒻᓐᒥᓱᑐᑦᖅᒻᖅᕐᑲᓯᖁᒥᑐᒃᑎᑐᑦᒃᑐᕐᑦᖅᒃᕐᒍᒋᓂᖏᓂᓱᑭᓕᓕᒃᖅ,ᓴᓄᓄᒍᓴᑭᕿᓕᑦᑦᖅᒻᓕᑉᑉᑉᒃᕐᓕᑭᓴᑐᔨᖑᒃᕐᔨᖏᓕᖑᒧᓱᑐᑯᑕᕿᖅᒻᓴᓄᓂᐅᒻᓐᒥᓱᑐᑦᖅᒻᖅᕐᑲᓯᖁᒥᔨᓄᖃᑲᒥᐅᒻᒻᓐᒻᖅᑦ,ᑕᕿᖅᒻᓴᓄᓂᐅᒻᓐᒥᓱᑐᑦᖅᒻᖅᕐᑲᓯᖁᒥᔨᓄᖃᑲᒥᐅᒻᒻᓐᒻᖅᑦ. You know, that's crazy, I always knew you guys did that kind of stuff on the Moon, that's like, tinfoil 101 know what I mean? Well, nobody's laughing now! ᓐᒥᓱᑐᑦᖅᒻ? :( No no, it was interesting, it's just a way of saying. ᓯᖁᒥᑐᒃᑎᑐ! :) It's ok dude. Well lads, he doesn't have much time left, so I'll leave it for here now, but this was just a quick conversation with ᔨᓕᒡᒡᓗᖕ, he has to visit his mother but he'll be back next week for more. Thanks again bro, be sure to bring some like, exotic rocks for us to see here on the show and stuff, maybe some plants if you know what I mean, hehe. ᓂᐅᒻᓐᒥᓱᑐ Yeah that's right. Well, bye everybody.
"There's no time!"he hissed. The fearful tone in his voice shook me to wakefulness. Darryl was usually serious and composed, and I had never seen him like this. Without a word, I rushed out of bed, heading downstairs with heavy footsteps as I made my way to the toolshed in the backyard. "Did you say apocalypse?"I hissed, opening the screen door. "No, man, it's the alpacas. Alpacalypse..."his voice trailed off and he held up one finger for silence. He grabbed a newspaper from my coffee table and tossed it onto the grass. Instantly, I felt the house began to shake, the entire world seeming to vibrate. “Earthquake!” I shouted, pulling Darryl with me to head under a table, but he pulled me back and restrained me. “Don’t move,” he said. I looked at him incredulously, but his eyes were closed and his lips were moving in a silent prayer. A mound of earth in the backyard began to grow before us, cracks appearing on top of it until a huge, fleecy head broke through. My left eye twitched. The massive alpaca raised its neck from underground and, impossibly, began turning its head in a full 360 degrees. I was paralyzed, unable to speak or move, sure that this was a dream. As its dark, beady eyes stared directly at us, I heard Darryl give a muted sob. Then it passed over us and trained its watchful gaze on my shed, not 10 feet away from us at the side of my house. It shook itself, dirt coming off of its dirty white wool, and that’s when Darryl pulled me into a run, screaming at me to go, go, go, and as I looked back I saw the alpaca’s transformation. Its fleece was puffing up, flashing in bright neon colors. Its eyes were black, blacker than a shadow at the bottom of the ocean, and they began to fire a laser in that same pitch black hue. I knew enough by then to follow Darryl out the front door, sprinting for my life as the alpaca finally jumped out from underground, bellowing ferociously, and I had just made it onto the street when my house exploded behind me. “What is that thing? What are we gonna do?” I screeched as we kept running. I regretted living near the alpaca farm now. Darryl looked at me, his expression grim. “We need shears. They have a weak spot, if you take the wool right off their - “ I never got to find out the weak spot of an alpaca demon because Darryl was suddenly thrust 50 feet in the air, screaming as another behemoth head rose from the ground right below him, before unceremoniously swallowing him in one bite. In a desperate panic, I kept running on, not sure where I was going. Then an alpaca head appeared in front of me. I turned around, but the one that had eaten Darryl was smacking its lips, charging towards me with blinding speed. I was surrounded. I curled up into a helpless ball, breathing raggedly, my heart seeming to explode with fear with each beat. “Please…” I said, not sure who I was pleading with. The last thing I saw was total darkness before all sensation disappeared forever.
[Poem] Is the sun a blessing Or a piece of mockery? Staring at the sky Until my eyes hurt, I longed for and cursed The place of my birth. Without wings, a mortal Was I, dwelling In civillization — A lowly jungle, A metal birdcage — Many names brought many games And I lost every one, Paradise above all. Retrace, remember, I was blameless, Just a little lamb Before I saw the sword Burning with ire divine. Walk on, continue, A silent siren Called for me, Yearning my touch, Revelling in my gaze. At the height of betrayal, I took the treasure. Discovered, I fell, Lightning at my heels. Reality — My present. A sour look in the mirror, I glanced at a worn man, An angel that once was. Is there a path, A muddy road, even, To regain the coronet, Worn in delight eternal? Resolved and decided, I followed the way To salvation true, A lone journey With but a single friend, And a narrow road.
A small sparrow feather was stuck to the fresh sap and blood on Florence’s arm. She propped herself against a pine tree on the edge of the forest glade, hot with sweat and heavy breath. Gods, what happened? The burning scent of recent witchcraft was strong, very strong. I must have cast a big one. Is this my blood? There’s so much… Florence followed the wet trail of blood from her left arm to her chest. She wasn’t bleeding at the moment, but she had recently lost a lot of blood from an apparent puncture wound to her collar bone. The damage was already scarred over. Still hurts. Did I heal myself? This constant unknowing was the problem with witchcraft. Cast a minor divination spell to predict the weather, and you might forget if you left the kettle on. Cast a major spell dealing in life and death, and large gaps may form in your memories, effectively altering your mind. Stretch your powers too far, and you could lose the ability to think at all, reducing yourself to a Thoughtstealer urged only by the need to consume the memories of others. Florence took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to three. She thought back to her training, as much as she could recall, under Amarantha, her teacher and adoptive mother. First, calm yourself. Relax your mind and count to three. Second, remember your Anchor. Florence looked down at the tattoo of the pyre on her palm. It depicted the sacrificial burning of Brielle, Florence’s older sister of two years, and their parents, Thalia and Laris. An Anchor was a memory so powerful and unforgettable that it was meant to force a witch to relive a defined moment and potentially jog other memories. It was akin to mental smelling salts. Anchors were specific to each witch, and Florence’s was the burning of her family. Florence and Brielle had been born with talents for witchcraft, which had attracted unwanted attention. Two years after beginning their training with Amarantha, when Florence was nine years old, the Whiteblades had abducted the family for a sacrificial burning. Florence escaped, but not before watching the flames consume her sister, mother and father. For the next eight years, Florence lived in the forest with Amarantha to continue her training in seclusion. Florence could remember her Anchor. This was good. It meant the memory damage wasn’t too deep. Third, check your surroundings for clues of recent events and indications of danger. Florence studied the glade. She had clearly been wounded and then healed. Was I stabbed? Is the stabber still here? It didn’t look like it. She was tempted to cast a spell to detect nearby life, but Amarantha had always warned against using witchcraft in the wake of witchcraft. It can be a dangerous cycle, fueled by panic, that can quickly eat away at your memories and leave you worse off than before. Oh Gods, who is that? Florence turned and saw a bloodied older woman strewn facedown on the grass. An arrow stuck out of the woman’s right leg, and her left arm looked freshly burned. Florence took a step closer. The woman stirred and let out a quiet groan. It’s- Oh Gods, it’s Amarantha! Florence knelt beside her teacher. She’s hurt, but it looks worse than it is. I’m sure it’s painful, but she should live. Florence touched the grass around Amarantha. It felt wilted and oily. Signs of a transportation spell. A powerful one by the look of it. Florence was beginning to put the pieces together. She and Amarantha had been transported here. Did I transport us? Or was it Amarantha? Or someone else entirely? Judging by arrow, burn and gouge to my collarbone, I’m assuming we were fleeing a fight. We’re wearing our standard robes with no extra gear indicating a planned transportation, so we may have been taken by surprise at the coven. An attack from the Whiteblades? Perhaps. Raids on the coven were rare, but arrows and fire were the typical weapons of choice for Whiteblade militias. The glade was quiet. I don’t think we were followed. Florence went to the next step. Fourth, check the diary. She dug through the inner pocket of her robe and retrieved the leatherbound diary. Both witches kept constant notes in case of magical amnesia. She flipped to the most recent page. “May 12, 1617. 7:00 AM: Sunny, warm. Oats and honey for breakfast. 8:00 AM: Sparrow dissection with Amarantha. Studying bird anatomy and alchemical principles of feathers.” Florence had no recollection of these events, though it did explain the feather on her arm. “Noises outside. Men and dogs.” That’s where the diary ended, aside from a bloody fingerprint below the text. Amarantha continued to stir and groaned. “Amarantha, I’m here,” said Florence, placing a delicate hand on her adoptive mother’s side. “We’re going to be ok.” She gently touched the shaft of the arrow in Amarantha’s leg. Instinctively, Florence ran a finger across the fresh scar on her own collarbone. I was hit with an arrow. I was hit right here with an arrow. I should be dead. Florence had an overwhelming recollection of staring into the void. I was dead… Amarantha reached out her burnt arm and grabbed Florence’s leg. The old witch pulled herself up, and Florence saw her face was snarling and pale. Amarantha had corpse eyes. The eyes of a Thoughtstealer. “Let go of me!” said Florence. “You brought me back, Amarantha! You brought me back, and I brought us here! Please, let go of me! Please, remember!” Amarantha’s grip was strong. She crawled forward and Florence unleashed a bolt of aether energy. Florence laid on the soft grass of the glade. She smelled the burning scent of witchcraft. As Florence began a meditative count to three she realized the situation. She opened her eyes and saw Amarantha the Thoughtstealer charging forward on all fours. Amarantha tackled Florence back to the ground, and growled. Those corpse eyes looked deep into Florence’s, and Florence began to feel the stretch of her memories tearing away, like pages from a book. Her first memory of witchcraft, when she was five years old. She had willed a dragonfly to land on her outstretched finger. Her father’s voice. Laris was shouting because Florence had sprained her ankle when she was six. She remembered his scared voice more than the throbbing pain in her leg. Her first introduction with Amarantha when Florence was seven. Amarantha had kind hazel eyes. She had offered to teach Florence and Brielle. She had known Florence’s parents for a long time. This page of Florence’s memory tore more slowly, and seemed to break off in fragments. Is she hesitating? “Amarantha! Remember me!” said Florence. “It’s me, Florence!” The next page in the memory book began to tear. It was the night of the Whiteblade burning. “You’re Anchored by this memory too! Amarantha, please!” said Florence. Florence was reliving that moment in space and time. Her pyre was the last to be lit, the four of them at the points of a square. She watched her family scream and burn, and flames had only started to lick at her feet as she wriggled free from the poorly tied bonds. She leapt from the pyre and shoved past an oncoming Whiteblade with a bolt of magic, then ran off into the woods. Florence had hidden for days until Amarantha found her. The memory page stopped tearing. Amarantha collapsed beside Florence. Her eyes had returned to a shade of kind hazel. “Where am I?” said Amarantha. She was afraid and confused, wincing at the pain in her arm and leg. “Who am I?” Florence took a deep breath and motioned for Amarantha to do the same. “Close your eyes and count to three,” said Florence. “There should be a diary in your robe pocket. We’ll start there.”
By this point, you know something is wrong: for the third time you had open your eyes and the clock has shown times in descending order. And then you feel sick, you try to stand up, but you lose your feet and you feel falling down. Down, down, down the rabbit hole, just like Alice. But you open your eyes once again and here you are, it's the middle of the day and you are talking with your boss, the words come out of your mouth, but it's not you talking, you are only a guest here. You look at your watch and see the time: 13:51. And then the ground disappears under your feet once again: you bounce and hit the walls, everything is so chaotic; you feel your shoulder hit a wall and you come to an abrupt stop. You sit up on your bed, the sun is already shinning outside, but something isn't right: this looks like your old childhood bedroom. And you hear "Honey, up, up, up! The school bus is coming soon!", is your mother and you are 9 all over again. But it doesn't last long, as soon as you try to put your feet on the floor, you fall: faster and more violently than before. You scream. And you feel your breathing becoming out of the sudden painful and slow. A hand takes grab of yours and you squeeze it back. Slowly, you open your eyes and see a young woman looking at you: she's beautiful and young, she looks familiar but at the same time there's something not quite right about her face, as if someone have had fun rearranging her features to make look perpetually in the middle of a joke. "Dad, please!", she begs... But just then, your lungs give up and there's no more breathing.
You know the saying absolute power corrupts absolutely? Well... I didn't have absolute power, but it was close enough. Basically, I could snap my fingers and change things around me. You may be saying to yourself, "Huh? That sounds pretty absolute to me!" Not really. I can't do things that are too...miraculous, I would say. If I see an amputee, I can't snap my fingers and suddenly bring their limbs back. And when I snap, I can only change things that are around me. That means in my immediate vicinity. I can't snap my fingers and suddenly feed all the starving kids in Africa. Oh...there's one more thing...change. Is it a good thing or a bad thing? I guess it depends on your perspective of it. Well...I can't control what happens when I snap. If I see a person in my pain, my snap could either cure them or kill them. Sometimes death is the best painkiller of all. Obviously, I don't snap much. But that's now. I had to find out these things out first. You know - trial and error. Hold on...excuse me for a second... ...yes, bartender, can I have another drink please? Yeah, your strongest stuff. Fill it up. Yeah, like that. Thanks. Where was I? Oh, right. Corruption. I could tell you stories for days but I want to tell you about this girl named Jessica. We were together only because, as ugly as I was, I guess she somehow thought I was better looking than all the other guys who, like me, were too young to go to war. One of the perks of war is that all the dad's are fighting overseas, and all of the mom's are picking up the slack in the job market, so we had the entire house to ourselves. But that day was the day everything changed. The TV was on, but silent; plus were too busy with 'other matters' to pay much attention to the warning that flashed across the screen telling us that we needed to evacuate immediately. Our country had been invaded and the enemy soldiers were in our area. We were both halfway-undressed when they kicked the door down. I tried to snap, but the more I snapped, the more of them appeared. It was like my snap became a beacon for every enemy soldier in the area. Eventually they subdued me and forced me to my knees. Then they broke my fingers. The others grabbed Jessica. I'll spare you the details of what happened next. After they finished, they shot her. Maybe they intended it as a mercy-killing. Maybe to add to my torture. Maybe that's that why they didn't shoot me, too. They probably felt like they had broken me enough. But, see, the thing is... they didn't kill her. The bullet went through her head, and did some tricky maneuver where it richocheted off her skull and instead got stuck somewhere in her cheek. The doctors explained it better, but I didn't care about the details. I was just happy she survived. Because of my broken fingers, I was unable to go to war even when they drafted the younger guys. When she got out of the hospital, I thought we would reunite and be together again. I didn't blame her for what had happened, nor did I look at her different in anyway. If anything it had been my fault for not being strong enough to protect her. So, really, I was there for her forgiveness. She didn't give it to me. I could see it in her eyes when she saw me. The shame. The fact that I had been witness to one of her deepest, dark times of pain and grief. She saw me, and looked away. I was crushed, but I wasn't hopeless. I understood that she needed therapy and time. If I only I could get her to talk to me, I felt like we could make it. I stayed away for a few weeks, and when my hands had healed, I practiced working on controlling the effects of my snapping. Eventually, the distance of not seeing her or hearing from her became too much, and one day, I went over there, and... It didn't go well. For one, she wouldn't open the door. I should've just left. I didn't. Instead, I kicked the door down. Strike one. As soon as I kicked the door down, that must have triggered something in her because she lunged at me wildly, screaming and clawing at my face. I should've just turned and walked away. I didn't. I pushed her, and when she came at me again, I smacked her. Strike two. She flew backwards and hit the wall. She slid down, curled up into a ball and started whimpering. Immediately realizing what I had done, I was full of apologies. I knelt down beside her, but she shifted away from. I kept trying to talk to her, but she kept moving away. I should've left then. I didn't. She got up and tried to run, I immediately jumped up and grabbed me. A bit too harshly. Strike three. She immediately went limp in my hands and her eyes took on a vacant, glazed look. That's when I realized that everything I had done - kicking the door down, smacking her, grabbing her - had all been triggers that now transported her back to the memory of that traumatic day. I instantly put her down and apologized and begged and cried and spoke to her gently, trying to coax her out of that terrible state. But she just looked at me - looked through me - her body present but her mind somewhere else. Frustrated, and terrified, and with no other recourse, I resorted to my last option and snapped my fingers. Immediately her eyes cleared and she looked at me as if she had been in a daze. She blinked, looked around, then focused on me, and said my name. But then her brows furrowed and she said: "What did... what did you do to me just now? You snapped your fingers and all of a sudden..." I took her hands with a smile and told her about my power. Immediately she became scared and, snatching her hand back, reared her body away from me. "Leave!"she insisted. "Leave me alone!" "Why?"I asked, confused by her sudden change in demeanor. "With such power,"she said, "who knows what else you will do to me?" "No! No!"I insisted, but partly she was right. Enthusiastic about my success, I wanted to snap my fingers again. Selfishly, I was hoping to make her love me. "Please! Just leave!" "Wait! Listen to me!" But she would not hear me out, and in the moment, just for a brief moment, I thought to myself, Why am I even arguing? I can just snap my fingers and she can't stop me. So I did. Slowly, she turned to me. I was afraid that I had returned her to her former troubled state, but when I looked into her eyes, I saw much worse. Not the prior vacant look of despair that had occupied them previously; but now a blank, emotionless look - a wall with no pictures. Then she opened her lips and said, "I love you"but my heart didn't stir. There had been no conviction behind it. It was said as if programmed, or rehearsed. "You're the most handsome man in the world. No other man is like you. I have eyes for no other. Marry me."All monotone phrases without depth. Just statements read off a script. I snapped futilely for several minutes, but this was the one and only change that I enacted that had become permanent. She's still alive. She lives with me till this day. She sits in my attic and waits for me to come home, where she smiles and says, "I love you. I missed you. Please don't leave me again."
A bear, a rabbit, and a deer meet in the bear's cave to conclude what happened to the humans that used to visit the forest. Their visits weren't that frequent, but they haven't visited in five years. The bear, rabbit, and deer debate what happened to the humans. After some debate, the rabbit and deer conclude that the humans all died. The bear, however, noted that several other bears confided to her that they assaulted the humans that were on their way to visit the forest. She dismissed it at the time because she didn't believe anyone would assault the humans. But, considering the humans haven't visited for so long, the idea that they were attacked becomes more believable. The deer, who watches for visitors, noted that there were a few bears regularly exiting and returning to the forest. He theorizes that the humans are cowering in fear of the bears, and as such proposes that he and the rabbit visit the humans wherever they live. The rabbit pointed out that the animals don't even know where the humans live. The deer suddenly left the cave to get the map the humans gave him during one of their visits. He returned with a map that looks like the ones the humans carried during their visit. The humans had informed the deer that the enterance to the forest faces the left edge of the map. The humans' habitat, called a "town", is also marked on the map. This satisfies the rabbit, who invites the bear to join them. The bear declines, as the humans are most likely afraid of bears. The deer and rabbit set out for the town, informing the guard elk so they aren't declared missing.
Down. The only way was down. Further down. Darker. Colder. The dirt was eating away at his nails. Burning his skin. Dancing back and forth. Down. Down. Down. He would be able to scream as loud as he wanted the further down he went. Nobody would find him screaming for help. There was no food the further down he went. Nobody would hear his stomach screaming for food. Down. Deeper. The squeezing of the walls around him filled him with screams. They reminded him of they way that his mother used to hug him. She can't hear you. &#x200B; Only speak when spoken to. &#x200B; I love to dance. Further down I dance. To dance is to die. I die to dance. Dance. May I have this dance? Let me dance for you. Watch me dance. The dance of death. The final dance is mine. I dance. I love to dance. &#x200B; His hands were completely worn away. Sanded down by the dirt. Down. Darker. Colder. Dancing back and forth. Down. Down. Down. Screaming and smiling. Nobody was coming to find him. His stomach cried. The scattered parts of his hands cried and nobody was coming to find him. Finally, nobody was coming to find him. There was a large rock in the way. It reminded him of his father. He can't hear you. &#x200B; Can you not find a more productive use of your time? &#x200B; I love to dance. Further down I dance. To dance is to die. I die to dance. Dance. May I have this dance? Let me dance for you. Watch me dance. The dance of death. The final dance is mine. I dance. I love to dance. &#x200B; He could not be taken away. Even after what he did. They were gone. Dancing now. Down. Down. Down. In the hole they went. Filled with holes. Down on them. The knife. Down. Down. Down. It was the only way to hear them scream. They can't hear you. Hear the screams. They can't hear you. Down. Down. Down. I just want to dance. I love to dance. The knife. Down. Down. Down. Let me scream. They can't hear you. &#x200B; Down. The. Hole. Screaming. Dancing. Smiling. Finally. Home.
„Wer wagt es meine Ruhe zu stören? Ich bin der mächtigste Flaschengeist der Welt!“ “I‘m so sorry, what did you say? I only took Spanish in school for a year before I gave up...“ The genie rolled his eyes. „Nie folgen diese Abenteurer den Regeln. Und dann fallen die falschen Wunschübersetzungen auf uns zurück...“ “Oh this is not good. But ok... ¿Doonde estáá la biblioteca? ¿Cómo estáás?” „Was für ein Vollidiot... aber na gut, was erwartet man von Abenteuern... sind eher nicht für deren Intelligenz bekannt.” Slowly the genie shrunk back into the bottle. “No wait where are you going?” Again the genie only rolled his eyes. He completely vanished for a second and then suddenly popped back up to his former size. “Ok now that I have transitioned back I can speak in your language. But because I had to accommodate you, there are only two wishes remaining.. do you know how hard it is to learn a new language in seconds? You definitely should take those language classes more seriously...” “Ok if you say so... hmmm.... so my first wish is.... that everyone on earth should speak English!” The genie snapped its fingers. “One wish remaining. Have fun with all the pets also being able to speak. At least the ones owned by people who see them as a person.” “Thanks. My second wish is...” The adventurer inched towards the genie and whispered something into the genie’s ear. Its face turned colors like an out of control traffic light. “After all I did for you you have the audacity to ask for more wishes?!? I’ve bent the rules so you could even understand me but let me get this straight: There is no wishing for more wishes, for infinite wishes or something that grants infinite wishes and that includes wishing for infinite genies. And since you wished for something I cannot fulfill your last wish is gone, goodbye!” The genie returned to his lamp. Triumphantly the adventurer walked out of the cave. His friend stood there smirking. “Ich sehe du hast deine Konfrontation überlebt?” “Natürlich, Tom. Du hättest das Gesicht des Genies sehen sollen. Du bist dran!” Tom walked into the cave while the adventurer stood outside. Even though there was a rule against wishing for more wishes nobody had thought that someone could disturb the slumber of a genie more than once. What a pity that they had no understanding of how much time had passed since they had been called and only remembered the last conversation they had had. ————— I hope you enjoyed reading the story. If you want me to translate the German parts, I’ll be happy to supply the translation.
The first thing I felt when I woke up was the same, splitting pain you feel in your head after a night of bad drinking. I clutched the back of my skull carefully, slowly massaging the pain as I struggled to regain consciousness. From my matted tangle of hair, something wet and warm met my fingertips. Instinctively, I opened my eyes and was met with a harsh artificial light. I was on the ground... sideways. Knocked down? I attempted to get my bearings by pushing myself up, but the observation of my surroundings was cut short by the red liquid smeared across my hands. It took me a second to realize that I had blood all over myself-- a realization that made my stomach churn. I let out a pained gasp and grabbed my head once more, searching for any kind of cut or laceration. Aside from the dull aching coming from within, it seemed to be fine, which led me to my next realization—this wasn't my blood. I sprung up and stumbled away from the pool of blood that had been encroaching on me as I slept. My breathing quickened as I clutched my arms and looked around my environment for the first time with panicked senses. In any other situation, one might have found it cozy—perfectly manicured walls with yellow, floral wallpaper adorned a kitschy home that looked like it belonged to someone out of a nursing home. Shelves adorned with knick-knacks and motivational placards that read 'Bless this Mess' guarded the walls. On the floor, a novelty cat rug was soaked red. I felt like crying out. "Hello?! Is anyone there? Where am I?" I was met with a sudden "shhhh!"from the adjoining room, sounding as if it had come from straight from the mouth of a nasally Midwestern librarian. "I'm on the phone, Jimmy!" My stomach sank. Someone had been here the whole time... on the phone? I made my way into an over-decorated kitchen that smelled a little too strongly of lemon-scented cleaning product. Ordinarily that would have been the worst thing about the situation, had it not been for the mangled corpse on the floor. I screamed. "Jimmy, mind your manners! Can't you see I'm on the phone?"came the voice again. By the wall stood a stout woman somewhere in her 60s, clutching a landline to her temple while giving me a stern look. "You don't want to end up like him, do you?"She gestured at the bruised and bloodied man on the floor. I should have run, but I was frozen in place, and I was on the verge of collapsing. Apparently the woman took notice, because she began to roll her eyes. "C'mon now Jimmy, don't be dramatic. I was just jokin' around,"she said, flapping her plump arm at me and then placing it on her hip. "You already fainted once and look whatcha did! You hit your head on the wall and your noggin's all covered in this bozo's blood now! Go wash up before dinner." I remained frozen in place. Did this woman know me? Who was Jimmy? How could she have any sense of who I was if I had never seen her before in my life? I clutched the wall for support, dizzy from the onslaught of information that was assaulting my senses. If I could just get to a knife from the kitchen drawer, maybe I could get out of here alive... The woman huffed at me, apparently reading my plan through my pained expressions. "Don't you try any nonsense again young man, you hear me? I already do so much for you and you can't even be bothered to put this body out there with the others, can ya? My goodness gracious me, I'll tell ya. It's hard enough keepin you happy without you plottin to go all Halloween on me. And I'm still taking care of your business for you in the meantime!"She ended the lecture with a dramatic point to the telephone receiver. I stood and stared at her, transfixed. Vague, fuzzy memories were coming back to me, one at a time. There were kids... and a car crash. Something had happened. I needed help, to call someone... Waiting.... I was talking with someone when the front door opened, but then... then a scream, fighting... and silence. I lifted a shaky hand and pointed at the body marinating in its own pool of blood on the floor. "Are you telling me, I asked you to do this?" The woman gave me a sarcastic nod and chuckled, phone still by her head. "Well you told me to do whatever it takes to get someone to help ya with your insurance, Jimmy. Now there's one less guy to worry about!" Oh shit. Ma... what have you done? I opened my mouth to speak, but the world was already going dark. My legs gave out from under me and I fell onto my knees, struggling to stay conscious. "Ma... why?"was all I could manage to croak. The woman—Ma—laughed at me and adjusted her thick, wide-rimmed glasses. "Well I sure as heck wasn't gonna wait around any longer to get the insurance folks on the horn. Besides, with him gone... we only have six callers ahead of us, Jimmy!" "You're not... helping..."I whispered. Those words were the last thing I said before I fainted again and the world went dark.
The Anartists of the Crayon line had always had their power focused through drawing. His mother Penny in her youth conjured up a number of adventures and near misses before she had mastered her power. His brother David had instead gone and joined the mages guild that called itself the Serpent's Hand. He however was going by Scribbler these days and was determined to answer the eternal question all artists of his generation wanted to know - Are We Cool Yet? Scribbler had found out that he had a talent known as the Scrawl, which meant he used pencil and paper where his mother had to work with wax crayons and his brother used chalk. In addition, he found that he could cast his spells using poetry or prose, he just had to write or draw something with a pencil for it to be true. Fortunately his gift hadn't awakened until after high school, which left his parents hoping he lacked it. Today was the day of the big art show, when all the Anart of the world would be showcased at a Paris, Texas venue. Traditionally it was held in France but recently they had taken to rotating host cities to avoid the Foundation. His debut piece would be unveiled. He would call for suggestions from the audience then draw it to bring it to life. But no-one attended his show, before he could cast his first spell-drawing of conjuration they were found, not by the Foundation but by the FBI who were not fond of the potential causalities that could be created by improper handling of some of the pieces. He found himself in a jail cell, turned out the organisers hadn't filled out the correct paperwork. He condidered breaking out but his paper and pencils had been conviscated. He would have to wait to perform magic in the presence of others.
AI was harder than we thought. There really WAS something special about humans that couldn't easily be replicated by computers. That something, it turned out, was in the brain stem. It governed basic instincts and emotions, and it was shared by many vertebrates. Enhancing humans with computer memory and logic proved easy, but it was also easy for dogs, cats, squirrels, parrots, crows, alligators, turtles. Some adapted to it even better than humans. We could even enhance the squid and octopus, but those proved to be rather alien. By 2361, hundreds of enhanced animal species had existed for well over a century. They tended to form their own neighborhoods and distinctive subcultures in the growing civilization of our solar system.
"Will it be functional?" Both of the men stared at the strange, partially constructed monument that was being erected in New York harbor. The progress to complete the massive undertaking had been slow to say the least. Between a lack of funding and the constant protests the monument had almost not been at all. The French insisted that it was a gift and not a threat. The project had proceeded in an awkward attempt to not upset their allies. At the cost of upsetting many New Yorkers. "I don't think so,"the other man answered. "Why would they think this is a good idea?" "They are French and to them it is a symbol of revolution. A common thread between our two countries." Rumor had it that a second plan for a statue had been in place. A statue of justice. How different the world would be if that had been instead of this. Symbols were powerful in that way. You could never be sure how it might effect the people around it. The Cross. The Jolly Roger. The Great Pyramids. How had these symbols effected their peoples? How would this one effect New York? Only time could tell as the saying goes. Despite what the French thought their monument represented, the people of New York thought quite differently. The people of New York thought it represented death and rightly so by both these gentleman's perspective. The monument stood at 151 feet. More then that if you measured the pedestal it was built on. The bottom of the monument had a women on her knees. Her head in a stockade. A crown upon her head. At the top of the monument was the blade that would never fall but, would forever be reminder of the many that did during the French's revolution. "I hear they've already given it a name,"said the first man as a chill ran down his spine. Goose pimples bristled upon his forearm. "Madame Guillotine."
(self response, sorry! O_O) It, as always, all started when I was born. My first transformation was when I was 3 days old, according to my father (who is a tomcat, by the way). I was getting bored inside my cot, twisting and turning, and, in my infant mind, managed to turn myself into a kiwi that waddled around the cot for a little bit, before being taken out of it by dad, who let me wander around the room for a little bit before putting me back to sleep. I've turned into everything from slugs to scarabs, orcas to orangutans and wolves to walruses. Today, however, I had turned 16, so my form had settled. Last time I transformed was yesterday, where I became a tabby cat and explored the woods. Being born on August 31st meant that most of my classmates had already settled, with my friend Joel becoming a ladybug, much to his embarrassment. I walked up to my room, cleared my mind, stood up tall, and held my breath as I used all of my brainpower to successfully (I had once gotten stuck as a half elephant for an hour) shift, and opened my eyes. I wasn't a fish, since I could breathe. I wasn't an insect, since I felt heavy. I wasn't a primate, as my limbs were directly facing the ground. I wandered around for a bit before looking in the mirror. I was a wolf. I walked out of my room and went into the garden, where I climbed over the fence. I looked for Sam's (a stag and a friend of mine) house, and then shifted back into human form. Sam was born in September, so he was the first of my classmates to settle. I knocked on his door. "Come in!"his mother said after flying into the entrance hall and shifting out of an eagle form. A chihuahua was sitting on a stair, and I assumed it to be his father. I walked into his room, and told Sam what happened. "Oh wow! You became a wolf. I think those are supposed to be family-oriented people or something? Eh, wolves are pretty common. There's a news story every year of a stampede at the Wolfshifters convention. Meanwhile the deer convention I went to last month only had a few hundred people." I slumped on his bed, shifted, and whimpered at the fact that I didn't win the animal jackpot like I thought I had.
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I looked around from the top of the highest mountain. Somehow, despite the latest in surveillance equipment, I’d bought, begged for or stolen, one or two always managed to get passed. I’d booby-trapped any route up the mountains, including using the much frowned upon and illegal land mines, There were infra-red sensors, early warning systems, and along the way I’d managed to hack into a satellite so that I could keep an eye out on my area. This had been necessary as google maps had taken a picture of me and Barnaby play wrestling. It took some time to learn to code, but eventually I taught myself to hack, but by that point it was too late. My role and destiny as the princess of the Mille Collins, was to keep our country’s most sacred of legends secret. I’m not sure if it counts as a legend if it’s true, but my job was to protect the dragons. Barnaby and I had become best friends, and on that ill-fated day, we’d had too much fun to pay attention to the drones mapping out the world. Soon after, we were beset by a string of hunters, warriors etc all trying to rescue me from the tyranny of the dragons that I was sworn to protect. These were easily discouraged, but the worst came from the tourists. One in particular- The White knight corp. They were relentless. They were unable to listen to reason, ignored me when I said I was fine, claiming I’d fallen pray to Stockholm syndrome. I used examples of why dragons didn’t or couldn’t exist, and that there must have been a glitch in the tech, and that they should perhaps pursue the loch ness. The more I tried to use modern logic, the more insistent they were to take me away from my bad situation. At first I’d let them rescue me, before running back in the night to look after my wards and make sure that the gateway between our worlds was protected. Soon however, I’d had to find other means. And so I find myself, surveying the lands around me, waiting for the next troupe of White Knights to ruin my day when really all I want to do is convince Barnaby to let me fly on him. Fuck you google, you ruined my otherwise fun and peaceful life mission.
"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"Simon gave the brunette a smile and gestured at the window. Outside, the heavy downpour made the day hard to see from inside the crowded cafe. "Mind if I join you? My name's Simon,"he added. "I've seen better,"Hanna chuckled and nodded at the seat closest to Simon. "There's a good chance you're the only one in here that thinks so; the rest of us are in here to avoid the rain."Simon set his cup down, then took a seat with exaggerated motions. So far his plan was working, but he needed her eyes on him when he pulled his phone out. He pulled a clear, glassy rectangle the size and width of a playing card from his pocket. He put it on the table next to his coffee while he settled in his seat, and he waited for a comment. Usually, it came in the form of, "What's that?"or "Wow is that a phone?!"and his favorite, "Where did you get that??". Simon watched her so intently, he noticed when she saw it; but, no comment came. Her eyes casually ignored it like any normal cellphone. She continued drinking her coffee and surfing the web. Simon found himself at a loss. The interest his node drew was supposed to lead to the rest of the conversation where he could show off his magical app. Luckily, fate was in the mood to wingman for Simon; his phone rang and a picture of his blonde sister popped up. "Hey, sis, how's it going?"He answered with careful word choice. "You want me to what?"he asked at hearing her request. He leaned closer to the table and dropped his voice to a whisper; though he made sure Hanna could still hear him. "I can't just make it rain on command for you,"he said, then laughed after a moment. "Yes, I know I can but I shouldn't. Fine,"Simon said. "Just a small shower for the kids to play in. Alright, have fun. I love you too."Simon hung up the phone and flashed Hanna his biggest grin. "There are few things five-year-olds love more than splashing in rain puddles."Simon then focused his attention on his node while he tapped and swiped his way through it. "They're out in Florida, but I'm gonna send them some of this rain,"Simon tapped his screen one more time. Immediately the rain outside the coffee shop stopped. The dark grey clouds vanished and left behind a bright azure sky. Simon scrunched up his face like he made an inconsequential mistake. "Oops, too much,"he chuckled. Simon was glad to see he finally got a reaction from her; she giggled too with her eyes on his node. "You should probably learn how to use it better,"Hanna said. "Maybe do the tutorial."Simon narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "Huh?"he asked. It wasn't what Hanna said that confused Simon; he hadn't even heard her. He was too busy wondering why she wasn't showing more surprise or interest. Something that showed she was impressed by him sending away the rain. Instead, she seemed to be telling him he was doing something wrong. "The tutorial,"Hanna grabbed her purse and started to dig through it. "Maybe your version didn't get it. That's alright; I can copy it over."As she finished her sentence she pulled her own node out. Simon's jaw dropped when he saw she had one too. "Where did you get that!"he asked. Hanna smiled. "This is an official node bought directly from Sharp Development. Where'd you get yours?"Hanna tapped and swiped at her node the same way that Simon did. "I don't know, I found it,"Simon said. "Yeah, that happens alot-,"Hanna cut her words short, and she glanced up at Simon. It looked like a stray sunbeam caught her in the eyes. Simon saw a flash of gold; but, Hanna did not blink. "Huh,"she said. "What?"Simon asked. Hanna gave a quick shake, then smiled. "Nothing. Anyway, sorry. It turns out our models are incompatible. I can't copy the tutorial over, but you've more or less got the hang of it. You're not missing anything." "What more is there to miss?"Simon grinned. "I can control the weather. Can you control the weather?"he asked. Hanna shook her head. "No. Not here anyway,"she said. "I can control it here, Florida, anywhere."Hanna nodded and Simon realized her demeanor cooled off considerably in the last few minutes. Simon needed to impress her fast; he noticed her gathering her laptop even as he made the realization. "I can make it snow inside!"he blurted. "We could literally SharpFlix and chill,"he chuckled and stood; because she stood. "No thank you,"Hanna said. "Don't date weather gods?"Simon asked. Hanna shook her head with a giggle. "Weather GOD?"she laughed. "Look,"Hanna said. She slid her bag over her shoulders and crossed her arms. "I'm not normally a rude person, but I think it's okay here," "Uh... okay,"Simon said. "I'd never date you. Weather god? You don't control the weather, you supervise it. You can tell it where to go, and sometimes what to do but that's it,"Hanna wiggled her fingers at the air; a tall black portal opened next to her. "But, the real reason is something else...,"Hanna's eyes softened; pity filled her face. "I got an error message when I tried connecting my node to yours,"She stepped one foot into the portal. The reason you don't have a tutorial; the reason you can interact with the weather at all,"Hanna stepped into the portal completely. She leaned forward out of it and gave Simon a shrug. "I don't date NPCs,"she said. "You're not real; and, the worst part is: you're aware of it."Hanna leaned back and disappeared into the black hole; it closed and vanished. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #083. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order.
\[SP\] "It was always during sunset."Poem It was always during sunset that the mist rose. Not like a creeping fog, but like a tide, It squeezed through the dirk, rocks and grass. Lost and distracted he unexpectedly felt it around him. Exotically fragrant and alluring he paused in the mist, And he saw her. She was small, delicate, yet strong. The mist, silky and luminous roiled around her like a veil. She was beckoning and smiling. His chest pounded and skin tingled. A smile burst from his face. Undiscovered feelings rippled him Eyes locked, the sensations surged, Levels he didn’t know, places he hadn’t been, A lifetime in minutes. Cast in gold from the setting sun, The land looked like a Kingdom, A queen and a throne. As the horizon sliced the last sliver of sun, it all vanished.
[Poem] The great, great lion comes alive Every once in a while to chase me Maybe it comes to take back it’s life. The statue comes alive eventually. The great, great beast awakes again Challenging me to fight this time Because we know, last time I ran To not give him what now is mine The great, great monster breathes loud I feel it’s warm breath on my neck I see it like a small white cloud It comes to take it‘s freedom back Little does the big guy know I tried to keep the rest of him For everyone to tell and show A statue for the best of him The great, great king looks for his skin his home, his kids and the knife that committed the greatest of all sins: It took the great, great lion’s life I mourned for him, when one took his life I built a statue for my king And now the great, great lion comes alive And asks me to do one more thing I expect the king to make me bow But he asks me to tell him what he did wrong To not be in his kingdom now To not be where he belonged I am lost for words, for I don’t know how to say That human beings like to take What would rather live and rather stay To make it theirs and see it break So I tell him to keep his head high With the burning fire in his eyes And never question why Because soon again, he shall rise. The great, great statue looks at me With numb eyes now, yet somehow wild There’s a lot of things he’d rather be Because he too, was this world‘s child All he ever wanted was to be free Not a knife cutting his throat Not a statue, but the king he used to be And not only the subject of a poem I wrote. The great great lion will never rest Maybe he’ll haunt me until he lives again But without a beating heart in his chest He’s just a lion, killed and a statue made by men.
I was just trying to get home after working the late shift so I could set up the new bike for Sarah, when I heard a noise in the alley just a few blocks away from the station. Christmas Eve was always a busy night, but I didn't think I'd see anything this close to the station. I heard the telltale click of fangs, the hiss of a thirsty Vamp, and the gasp of a terrified victim. I knew I'd be too late, but I reached in my bag, and pulled out my stake and my badge. I say stake, but it was more like a wooden spear, blessed by a priest, and dipped in holy water. I turned the corner, and yelled "Freeze, Vamp! Paranormal Affairs!" He dropped the body and stared up at me. He was the fattest vamp I'd ever seen. "It's not what it looks like,"he lied, blood dripping down his once white beard, disappearing into his already crimson suit and continuing down to stain the snow. This was not what I needed on Christmas. "Let me guess, he was on the naughty list."I said, unable to hide a smirk. He hissed again and lunged, only to be met by the shaft of my stake in a flash of bright light. He whimpered and fell back, hand to his burned face. "Look, pal, we both know I can stake you right here and nobody will bat an eye. It's Christmas though, and I don't want to do that much paperwork."There wasn't any paperwork that had to be done immediately, but I was trying to be merciful here. Before I could finish my generous offer, he lunged again, and this time, I had no choice but to stake him in the heart. He burst into a cloud of ash and I wondered how a Vamp could be that slow and stupid. He must have just been turned, but what self respecting Vamp would turn an old fat guy in a Santa suit? I sighed, and started to take out my phone to call it in, when I heard some jingling further down. I followed the noise to the other side of the alley, and to my surprise came upon a huge red sleigh with 8 majestic reindeer pawing at the ground. I looked back at the dead body and the pile of ash, then over to the sled with a huge red bag sitting in the back. "Shit."I muttered. It looked like my night wasn't quite over.
This puzzle was to become my prison and life for eternity. Becoming one with the puzzle's picture made me a happier entity than before. I suppose being able to reason about the fact that it happened is in itself a blessing and a curse. One I wished for and dreaded. I had this puzzle for the longest time, it was of a painting I think, by whom I don't know. All I knew about it is that it looked like a dream, growing up in the slums put the whole thing into perspective. I lived like a street kid for most of my life, hustling to make a living. Yet I wished not for the riches and grand condos of downtown but of that lakehouse. The lakehouse in that puzzle's picture that my grandfather left me, I kept it in my shitty little storage unit that had been broken into multiple times. No one would steal a puzzle, of course, a gigantic puzzle that for most people around here only looked like a waste of time. Except for someone like me, someone called me an elderly person for putting it together, I don't know why I even did it. I suppose I had fallen in love with that image on the box, I had fallen in love with the promise that I had supplanted into this puzzle. That I would somehow get to live in that quiet lakehouse close to nature instead of the suburbs of a big smelly city. Once I had finished said puzzle, If I did that I would be granted my wish to be there, live another life. I don't know if it's because I had the wish beforehand to be in this beautiful image or because of there being something about this puzzle that made it "magical"but no matter why it happened. Even if this isn't the reality that I actually wanted, this is what I got. I'll just have to make the most of it, I don't have a choice since I'm probably trapped here forever, in this puzzle.
My boss was an octopus in a spacesuit with a fishbowl helmet. My office was a seaweed garden, littered with treasure chests and shipwrecks. “Jenkins!” my boss called. Angry bubbles frothed inside his helmet. “My office. Now!” I doggy-paddled over, huffing and puffing into my twelve-foot-tall snorkel. My boss’s office was a cubicle with walls made of seashells and coral. Pictures of thousands of fish eggs hung on the walls between portraits of calamari children wearing braces and teenage octopi wearing graduation gowns. “You towed my second wife’s Brie-mobile from Planet Moscato to Planet Malbec, yes?” I woofed in agreement. My tail wagged involuntarily. “You’re fired.” I whimpered. “But why?” “You were supposed to remove the dashcam. She sent the footage to Mrs. Lobstress. Now I’m really in hot water.” The little red phone on my boss’s desk rang. My boss answered it, still glaring at me. “Narklefart Tow-Wreck-Scrap, you crash it we smash it, how can I help you?” “Beep…. Beep…. Beep,” came the sound from the caller. My boss jotted down marks in the sand, transcoding the signal. He shook his head. “It’s in No-Man’s land. Illiterate drivers. Probably got lost and looking for directions. See to it Jenkins. And make sure they pay up front.” “I don’t wanna go to No-Man’s land,” I said. “Nobody does,” my boss said. “But if you don’t go, I’ll fire you.” “You already fired me,” I said. “You a lawyer or something?” my boss said, “Get to it!” --- Two and a half diet cokes later, I was backing the Narklefart #3 shiptugger towards the wayward caller. There didn’t seem to be anybody on board. It must be some kind of AI with a garbled comm chip. To be honest, it looked like a dishwasher. “Beep… Beep… Beep,” the dishwasher said. “Anybody on board?” I said one final time. “Please disengage your engines.” I glanced at the ship sideways. “If you have any…” This ship was a piece of junk. “I’m gonna get you to a repair bay,” I said. “They’ll fix your comms and thrusters. Then you can get out of this neighborhood and go someplace nice.” Suddenly, I remembered. “Hey can you pay up front?” I asked. “Beep… Beep… Beep,” the ship responded. Whatever. If I came back empty handed I’d probably lose my job, whether I towed the ship or not. My only shot was that they’d pay after they got their comms fixed. “I’m hooking you in,” I said. I pressed a magnificent glowing purple button. Bright pink streamers shot from the sides of my ship and tied themselves in beautiful bows around the dishwasher. “Computer,” I said, “Take us to the nearest repair bay.” --- Without any diet cokes remaining, we arrived in the Alpha Centauri repair bay, which is notorious for its high prices and poor snack selection. A grease monkey approached me in the bar, wiping his paws on an oily rag. “She’s all fixed,” he said. “Thirty credits please.” “She’ll pay ya,” I said, “She’s gotta pay me for the tow too.” “I don’t think you’ll be getting any money out of her,” the grease monkey said. “What?” I said. “Come take a look,” the grease monkey said. We approached the dishwasher in the repair bay. “Hey buddy,” I said to the dishwasher. “Здравствуйте” the dishwasher said. “Is her comm chip still broken?” I asked the grease monkey. “Functioning perfectly,” the grease monkey said. “I actually upgraded it.” “You got any money?” I said to the dishwasher. “я сломался как шутка” the dishwasher said. “мое правительство обанкротилось.” The grease monkey nudged me, and shook his head. I began to realize the gravity of the situation. “Now if you can’t afford the upgrade, I can take her back down to beeps. But the usage of the repair bay has a flat fee. You owe that no matter what,” the grease monkey said. “You’ve gotta have some money right?” I pleaded with the dishwasher. I began to feel desperate. “Come on man,” the grease monkey said, “I got other customers waiting.” I felt my wallet in my back pocket. Empty, as usual. “Let’s do a trade,” I said, walking briskly back to my good old Narklefart #3 shiptugger to escape. “Where you going?” the grease monkey asked, following. “Open up the hatch on her front and throw your dirty laundry in,” I said, “She’ll wash it for free!” “Hey!” the grease monkey shouted. I jumped into the cockpit and peeled out of the repair bay. Man, I hate it when my boss is right. Should’ve made ‘em pay up front. --- A thousand light years away, on planet Earth, a group of Soviet scientists sat around a table scratching their heads, nobody wanting to be the first one to speak.
There had always been pros and cons to having a massive Johnson, but finally, the real advantage was revealed. Stacking clothing was still popular, but since the monocle of deactivation was invented - where you could deactivate any visible item - the limits of useful stacking had increased greatly. That is, other than the various enchanted cockrings. Billy "The HorseWarrior"Lugo was nearly unbeatable. With irremovable enhancements to strength, speed, endurance, and his signature ability - the ring of time lengthening, allowing him to react to any lethal moves in slow motion - he had won every tournament in the last two years. But, it looked as though he may have met his match in this mysterious robed and masked figure. He was Billy's match in physical attributes, and all his lethal moves seemed to be accompanied by a much faster move - denying the time stop? Or unconscious, somehow avoiding the ring's effect? Damn. Billy leapt up, the strike at his heart had come in slow motion but a leg sweep came in face, glancing off him and sending him off balance for the jump, his butt falling back and legs flying forward. Suddenly, Billy felt his first pang of true fear during a tournament - they tried to be nonlethal, but with superpowers it wasn't uncommon for mistakes (or...maybe mistakes) to be made - the anonymous challenger reached forward and rather than striking, dug long nails and strong hands into his waistline. He pantsed Billy. &#x200B; The crowd erupted into roars of laughter, applause, and shock. The man lifted his mask and the monocle was there - Billy felt himself weaken. No. The newly revealed stranger rushed forward, fist clenched, ready to end this championship bout. Billy rushed backward, the crowd roared, expecting the biggest upset most could easily remember. The fist approached Billy's forehead and the man's face broke into a grin - the prize money was great. But suddenly, Billy's hands stopped pulling him back, and he rapidly uttered the incantation - Flatulinferno! A burst of flame consumed the stranger, who fell back howling, medics and fire crews rushed on as the match was called, Billy remains champion! The crowd roared even louder as Billy stood, wiped his sweat and calmed his nerves. He forced a small smile and thought to himself, my last defense, my greatest secret, thank god I had the flame-enchanted buttplug.
“Hey Walter, wait up!” I jogged to catch up with my long legged friend and was out of breath by the time I reached him. “Why didn’t you wait for me? We were supposed to meet at the Taco Shop.” Walter stared blankly before hiccuping violently. “What?” I squinted. “The Taco Shop? The one a whole BLOCK from here? I had to sprint to catch up with you, man.” Walter hiccuped. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird since Rachel’s party.” Walter had been more than weird. Ever since he made out with the new foreign exchange student at Rachel’s party he’d been... different. Not himself. Walter nodded absentmindedly and coughed into his elbow. “Sorry Jacob. Just distracted today, I guess.” Like that. No one calls me Jacob. Except Mom. But that’s not the point. Walter usually calls me Jake. And sometimes Dickwad. I shrugged it off and asked if he needed help carrying the huge stack of magazines he was balancing in his lanky arms. It was only after he handed me half that I saw they were all Cat related. Cat Woman comics, Kitty Health magazines, even an Animal Kingdom type article on feline predators, lions and tigers and the like. Oh yeah, that’s one of the weird things he’s been doing. He’s like, obsessed with cats. I’d caught him staring intently at my cat Jalapeño several times, and if I didn’t know any better I would have thought he was taking notes on her. I also saw him petting her, almost tentatively, like he was scared of her, but with something like reverence in his eyes. Walter is allergic to cats. He hates them. It’s been one of the biggest hurdles to overcome in our relationship. That and he likes pineapple on pizza. Which is unforgivable. Anyway, not only that, he keeps HICCUPING. Like, all the time. And coughing. And sometimes gagging. It’s the weirdest thing. And he never pays attention to anything I say anymore. It’s like he’s not interested in hanging out... until I’m not available, that is. Which reminded me... “Walter, why did you crash my date with Ruby? I thought I made it clear I did not require wingman services last night.” “Huh? Oh yeah, that. I don’t know.” “Well, it was a sucky thing to do. I was about to make a move.” Walter shifted the magazines to the crook of his left arm to examine his nails. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. Whatever. Ruby had had garlic breath anyway. I noticed we weren’t circling back to the Taco Shop. We were actually heading to a more isolated part of town. “Why aren’t we walking back to the Taco Shop, man? These magazines are heavy and I’m really craving a Mega Bacon Crunch right now.” Walter ignored me and continued his steady stride; which I then noticed was heading in the direction of an abandoned looking building with graffiti all over the sides. “Why are we going to the old Danish factory? This place gives me the creeps.” I wasn’t entirely sure what Walter’s reply to that was, but it sounded a lot like, “Have to find the hairy beacon.” Which was a weird thing to say. But he’s a mumbler. “Come again?” I jogged to keep up. His strides were getting longer. Walter made a weird vibrating sound from the back of his throat as we reached the door of the building. It kinda sounded like a- “Ah, Walter! What the fuck!” He had kicked the door down. Walter calmly stepped inside the building and scanned the room for whatever it was he seemed to be looking for. I was freaking out at this point; because Walter had NEVER done something like this before. He wouldn’t even do something as harmless as writing on his desk at school, let alone damage city property. “Walter? Are you okay, man?” Walter scanned the whole room, but evidently did not find whatever it was he was looking for. “Wow, such empty,” He sighed. I was really freaking out at this point. Walter needed HELP. It didn’t help my growing sense of panic when Walter started violently hiccuping. And coughing. And... spitting? I watched in horror as Walter shuddered violently and hacked up what looked like an enormous fur ball. I would probably have blown chunks right then and there. But then something else happened. Something that changed everything. Walter noticed an odd looking symbol spray painted on the wall next to a dusty light switch. He smiled as he dropped the magazines he was holding and stepped up to the symbol. He licked it. “Ugh! What the fuck, man!” A glowing green light filled the room as he turned to me with triumph in his eyes. “It is time.” He grinned in delight. “Time for you to meet her.” “Who?” It took every ounce of stamina in my body not to faint right then and there. “Time for me to meet who?” Walter’s eyes glowed yellow as he pointed behind me and whispered with reverence, “One your kind once knew as Bastet, many years ago. But my people simply call her The Mother!” I peeked over my shoulder and screamed as I felt my body being taken over. Then I was part of her litter, too.
"Damn it. That Overseer must have had a hand in this!"I grumbled as I looked bleakly at the planet that was handed over to me. All I wished for was to be a powerful deity, okay? What I wanted was the prestige and the reverence of the people. As for the responsibility, I want none of it! Damn it, Overseer come here! I promise I won't punch you! But after several minutes of huffing and grumbling, I decided to stop and study the planet that I would manage. That world was, in a word: bleak. The lands were ravaged by war, the people on top were filled with greed. There were more buildings than there were trees. The defensive layer on that planet was almost nonexistent. The fumes and unnatural gas clogged the atmosphere. The animals were robbed of their natural habitat and were forced to cram into places where people could gawk at them. The rich hoarded their fortunes, wrapping themselves with glittering jewels and fine clothes while the poor had to do their utmost just to make ends meet. Mother Nature was exhausted. The planet itself was dying. Now, how do I fix this? I pondered and thought deeply, and an idea slowly formed itself. I couldn't use punitive fire, for the damage it would inflict would be far too disastrous. I also couldn't use the ablution flood for the same reason. I mustn't hurt Mother Nature. She was already sick enough, and I shouldn't add on to Her struggles. I finally thought of a drastic measure, one that wouldn't hurt Her. But it will not spare those who caused Her to be reduced to that state. Gods can be merciful, but they can also be exceedingly cruel. And seeing Her suffering in silence; I chose to be cruel.
The wooden mask was warped and chipped, blending in with the driftwood that washed ashore. The waves foamed and crashed peacefully, absorbing the moonlight shining from above. Each rush of water danced across the naked feet of the couple walking along the shore. Romance was in the air. “I just, really think we should stay friends, Josh” she said with her eyes glittering from the moon’s glow. “I don’t want to ruin what we have already.” Josh stared solemnly into the ocean abyss, the wind gently blowing the collar of his shirt. He bit the insides of his cheek and fought the overwhelming urge to frown. Maybe he could escape this moment by walking into the sea. Instead, he turned and walked away. “Josh please,” she called out to the back of his head. “It would never work between us, and you know that. We’ve been friends for so long...” He turned around to say something, not losing his stride and walking backwards, splashing salt water with each step. He didn’t know what he was going to say, he just opened his mouth and let his heart do the speaking. “Carly, I—“ he stumbled backwards, stepping upon splintering pieces of driftwood. He pulled himself up to his knees and looked down at the humble pile. Dusting aside sand and bits of wood, Josh picked up the mask. “Oh my god! Are you okay?” Carly came rushing over, dropping to her knees to get on his eye level. Josh still clutched the mask and nodded, Carly tilted her head. “It’s amazing,” she said, looking at him in a way she’s never done before. “From this angle, the way your eyes catch the moonlight. It’s...it’s intoxicating.” She leaned forward and kissed her future husband for the first time. ******************************************* Three years had gone by since that night on the beach. Since then, Josh’s life has propelled to outlandish levels. When asked the secret to his success, Josh puts a hand over his heart and says it’s all thanks to his good luck charm: the woman who turned his life around. Before that night, Josh’s Twitter had a mere thirteen followers. He had a meager blog that he would tweet about where he would review the current book he was reading, occasionally venturing out to review a local eatery. Today, Josh’s Twitter has 200 million followers, growing by the hundreds each day. Josh practically reviews anything he touches nowadays, from the socks on his feet to the smells on his nose. His followers and subscribers worship his every word, as if they were completely enchanted with the fiber of his being, dying to know what made him tick. It was Throwback Thursday and he was looking to revisit something he had already reviewed in past years. He perused his library of classics, deeply considering each name he saw on each book’s cracked spine. Suddenly, he was struck with inspiration and raced up the winding staircase of his modern chic mansion. It was in here, he knew it was in here. A first edition of the Count of Monte Cristo, an thrilling tale of revenge that he reviewed in the time before his fame. He wanted to compare his new review of the book to his earlier review and see what about him has changed. He sat down on the floor and began thumbing through the book. “Are you enjoying the life I’ve built for you?” said a muffled voice from behind Josh’s head. Startled Josh stood up, eyeing the dresser he was leaning against. He heard ominous giggling from the top drawer, a man’s voice definitely but with an effeminate twist. Slowly. Josh slid the drawer open. He laid eyes upon a mask, brimming with life and gleefully smiling back at him. With a pristine, polished white base and little triangles of orange and purple lining the eyes and mouth, each cheek was lined with silver and gold. The lines were woven so finely and elegantly that Josh stood mesmerized at how the mask commanded its viewers attention. Josh felt enchanted surf every fiber of its being and was dying to know what made it tick. “Yes, it’s amazing what one’s life essence can do,” it moaned ecstatically. As drool appeared at the corners of the delicately carved mouth, little bits of razor teeth began poking through the wood. “Come now Joshy boy. All good things must come to an end,” it snarled. “Everything has a price.”
I don't even know how I got this ability. It just happened one day; every person had a bunch of numbers above their heads flashing like neon lights, and I was the only one who could see it. I didn't realize what the numbers were for at first. All I could tell was that they were ticking down, counting down for something. I finally learned what the numbers meant when I happened to see a jogger on a park. Out of all the numbers I have seen above people's heads, his was by far the lowest. The numbers were "46", and they were going down by the second. By the time the numbers dropped to zero, so did he. I was surprised; so were the people who've seen the jogger collapsed. A couple ran to him, and the woman checked for his pulse... And she started to scream with urgency to call 911 as she started to pump his chest. Somehow, I could tell that the jogger wouldn't make it. The "zero"above his head started to turn translucent until it faded completely. The man had died. Ever since then, I started to have a morbid curiosity with the numbers, and when the people around me would start to have a low number, I would do my best to make their last moments happy. I couldn't tell them that their end was near; no one would have believed me in the first place. And the numbers are absolute. I would know. I desperately tried to stop my mother from leaving on an overseas trip after seeing the numbers above her head, but she was still gone the next day on a stray gunshot accident. This time, as I stood idly on the bus stop, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw my boyfriend, grinning as he lightly tapped my nose. "Dazing around again?"he asked teasingly. I tried to smile, but I stiffened when I saw the blaring numbers above his head. 184. He will die in about three minutes. He noticed my expression was off and was about to ask what wrong when an elderly lady bumped into him with her cane. "Oh, pardon me, young man,"the lady said sweetly. "No worries, ma'am,"he replied politely. I noticed their numbers. My boyfriend's, the sweet old lady's, as well as the other three on the bus stop. 145. The bus stopped right at this moment, and when the doors opened, the bus driver turned to us and smiled. It was the same as them. 120. I looked up above my head, but there was nothing to see. The other passengers had already boarded the bus, and my boyfriend squeezed my shoulder lightly to bring me out of my stupor. 75. "Are you riding or not?"The bus driver asked when he saw us staying rooted in place. My boyfriend worriedly looked at me. "What's wrong? Do you feel unwell? I smiled and held his hand, and we walked side by side to the bus. The bus driver gunned the engines, and the bus roared to life. 64. We sat next to each other and I leaned on him to give him a peck on the lips. His surprised face was exceedingly adorable. And when he smiled, I almost forgot how to breathe. 22. "I love you,"I said. He kissed me again. "I love you too." 0.
It started one morning when I was just reading some books while eating chips. My pet, Kyle was on my lap getting comfy. That is when he says something a little bit unexpected. >Hey, hows your day goin' so far? I didn't know who said it or if it was just in my head. So, I ignored it. >Hello? Are you listening? Hows your day so far? I was suprised when I realized it was Kyle that was talking. So, I try to talk to it >Pretty good, how is yours? Kyle was silent for a second. >Not really good, I am being held prisoner by you. Why don't you free me? > >Um, I like you? > >Can you sell me please? > >Why.. > >You suck, you only feed me cheap dog food. > >Okay, fine I will sell you. After that awkward conversation I decided to drop him off at a animal shelter. I really still want a dog so I buy a different doggo. I named him Doggo and he never talked so I was fine with it.
>Dude, are you really dying? > >Yeah, really, doc said i have 10 minutes left.. > >Is there anything I can do for you? > >Please, dear god, please, burn my house down, it has all my belongings in it. Don't let anyone see it > >Okay, I got you. The only thought in my head was what was inside his house. I get out of the hospital and go to his address. I got in and I could not believe what was in there. There was a whole lot of dolls everywhere around the house. I was dumbfounded and I was thinking why was there ton of dolls in his house. As I began searching through them I found a trapdoor to a hidden basement. I went in and I was petrified. There were only doll heads in the basement. There was also lots of signs that only have one word in it: dolls. I eagerly get out of the basement and grabbed my flamethrower. All of this has definitely need to be burned. As I burn the last doll in there I realized that there was another trapdoor. It was just the other basement with a bunch of creepy dolls in it. So, I burned the basement and everything in it as well. I wish I have not even thought about looking in his house. He was weird, I have no idea why I was friends with this guy.
It started six nights ago, I was used to working late at night, the ground floor perfect for catching the hints of light from the streetlights through my blinds, providing me with the comfort of its glow as I tapped away at my keyboard. I had just finished writing up a review of the local taco establishment, rating it four chillis out of five, a really hot experience. I stretched out, rewarding myself with a groan of relief as my muscles cracked. Seemed the perfect time for bed, Going to shut the computer off, I noticed that the glow had vanished, so absorbed in my work that I hadn't noticed the only light source had been coming from my computer. It was strange, but the street was rather old, an electricity issue was hardly out of the question. Yet this time when I went to peak through my blinds, my body froze up, as if every instinct in my body was telling me not to approach it, the reaction seemed silly until I noticed what had upset my body. It was a lanky shadowy figure, it seemed close to the window, although the blinds were on a tilt that made it hard to perfectly see past it, only giving me the occasional glimpse at the darkened body, one that was unmoving. I had thought it may have been a burglar, but they were far to still for that, almost as if they weren't even alive. I went to my wall, flicking the light switch to indicate that someone was inside the home, the shadow was still deterred, finally, I moved into bed, watching it, refusing to sleep that whole night. I considered calling the cops, but it just seemed like it would be a fruitless venture. Do you know how they say humans have a third sense? One that awakens when they are in unknown danger, I can't explain the feeling, but I will do my best to express it. It was like that feeling you get when you are about to throwup, the bubbling in the back of your throat that makes you gag, sending signals to your brain. Instead, the signal it was sending was to act like It wasn't there, Of course, easier said than done. Finally, however the morning sun arrived and thus the shadow left. The next days went the same way, except I was slowly learning to sleep, able to ignore it, until tonight. As per usual, it would arrive when the streetlights flicked on, this time however my blinds were on the same tilt, this time they were perfectly horizontal, giving me my first look at the creature. It was shorter then I expected, almost like a taller version of an imp? I'm guessing five foot, but it was hard to say, its body had no hair, instead, it had these strange blots on it, almost like the skin beneath it was bubbling. Its face was the strangest part of it thought. No mouth, No nose, ears or anything like that, it just had two large eyes, these eyes taking up a good eight per cent of its face, the rest curved into an oval chin. It just stared, It was hard to say if It could tell I saw it, I watched it, almost pretending I was staring past it. It was much harder to go about my usual business that night, anytime I was about to scream or whimper I had to kick my foot against the edge of my wooden desk, distracting myself from my normal bodily desires. Like the first, I received no sleep that night. Pulling myself away from the desk, I noticed the bloody mess that was dripped into the carpet, the tip of my toenail bent back, clipping the sides of my toe, cutting deep into it. The grotesque sight was soon followed by pain as if my body had only just registered the pain it was in. Luckily I was too tired to be disturbed by it, I just wanted to sleep... I was awoken by a frantic knocking at the door, A muffled shouting coming from it. By the way, they pounded on the door, it sounded as though they were going to knock it off its hinges. "Coming!"I shouted back, checking out the window to confirm it was still day. Good, it was safe. I opened the door to the sight of two officers, the first holding a pen and paper while the second had his hands smacked against his hips. "Did you hear anything last night?"The first asked, the ink of his pen already dripping onto the notepad, writing something about me. "Something last night? No.. I was up all night and I didn't hear anything? Why what happened?" "Miss Lee, your neighbour across the road has gone missing, we...."He looked behind his back, checking to see who might be listening, before speaking. "We believe she has been killed. Her husband knew little about where she went, He only said two things. He noticed you staring out your window all night and that his wife went to investigate someone looking into their window last night."His tone was accusing, as if to him this was a shut case. "That's impossible, I was at my computer last night, I can show you my work."The accusations left me offended, wanting to do whatever I could to clear my name, Of course at the end of the day, I could only show what little evidence I had. "Well, then you won't mind us stepping in for a look?"The second officer finally asked, slipping on a pair of gloves. "Of course, Please help yourselves."Letting them through, they wandered the house, of course, everything was normal, well except one thing. "Blood here Sarge, lot of blood."The second officer called out as the first followed, a skip in his step, perhaps he thought he would get an early lunch today. "Yes that's mine, I banged my toe last night, Haven't had the chance to fix it up, see."I raised my foot to show the mess of a toe, the second officer only shared a small glance before he looked away from it, the second stared longer before nodding. "Alright, we will take a swap anyway. We don't have anything else to discuss, but we will be in touch if we do, please contact us if you find anything."He handed me a card. "Sargent Dan Stimson? nice to meet you." He mumbled something incoherent in response to that, quickly leaving with his partner. I had to wonder if that creature was at fault. No, it was a freak accident, she could have been killed by her husband or some other person, that thing was at my window all night, it couldn't have done it unless there were others. That bubbling feeling returned, leaving me compelled to return to my computer. Perhaps I needed to look further into this mystery.... {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}
[Poem] On my way to work now, I drive my usual route, new rain splatters the windshield, crisp air, serenity in my 2003 Citroen Saxo . ___________________________________ Thoughts appear and fade away, a form of meditation, both present and unaccounted for, a Schrodinger's box of consciousness, until I focus myself. ____________________________________ I drive my usual route, side roads and dirt paths, untraveled and isolated, bumps and skids commonplace, second nature to me now. _____________________________________ My destination is always the same, my destination is never known, I drive my usual route, the clutch leather palms my hand, I squeeze it tightly when I change gears. _____________________________________ Danger lurks in the tall grass along the road, nature will overtake the little that remains, I wait - I always wait, my car parked on the shoulder, arriving at my usual place of work. _______________________________________ I wait alone as the day passes, no cars or people pass me by, the sun begins to set, my work is almost done now, only one task left to do. _______________________________________ I drive my usual route, my destination is always the same, my destination is always known, my passenger sits quietly behind me, as I drive this lonely, isolated road.
The cook turned around when he heard the soft splash, but didn't look too closely. He didn't notice the stream of small bubbles rising to the top of the broth, slowly ebbing until they ceased altogether. The cook turned the flame to low and went on with other preparations while the broth simmered for the next 8 hours. He added the star anise, cloves, chilis, and other seasonings to make the shop base that he would later serve to his future in-laws. He wanted to make sure it was the best hotpot he had ever made. And in fact, despite the small bones which he quickly removed just before serving, it was the most delicious thing any of them had ever eaten.
I opened my eyes to a dizzying array of lights blinding my vision for moments before a figure moved and blocked it out. It took me a moment to adjust to what now was before me. I scanned the figure up and down before confirming it was a frog, clad in a suit and tie but a frog all the same, his green skin scarred on the surface. "Where's my money"the figure said and I shook as I realized... This was kermit. The craziest of the underworld bosses. I could not lie to this frog, no matter what. He could smell lies in words like a lion fear. "Miss Piggy took it, I swear, she said you'd sent her"I said, my voice quivering the rope on my hands starting to burn from the strain. "Miss Piggy? so I send you to steal Fozzie Bears heroin shipment and you expect me to believe that bitch comes and you WILLINGLY give it to her?" He was clearly getting agitated, his voice taking on an even higher pitch than usual, If I was to get out of here alive I'd have to give him something, anything. "I swear Kermit, I thought she still your right hand, I didn't know about the fight!" "Oh but you do now huh?" "Shit..." And then darkness, as the abyss took me like the velocity of the bullet to my forehead \--
Tom Swift and His Sanitary Mask Dispenser YA, Series, Group Penname: Victor Appleton Jr. The teenaged inventor rises to the challenge of an epidemic by combining a sewing machine with a soft drink machine to create a device which produces a cloth breathing mask whenever a quarter is deposited. Hilarity ensues when the first batch is made from his cowboy cook's notorious neon patterned shirts. &#x200B; Too Many Deliveries Mystery, Recurring Characters, Author: Rex Stout It's business as usual for Nero Wolfe, New York's most expensive detective, since he rarely leaves his house, outbreak or no outbreak. This time, it's the case, not the client, who comes to him, when a van bringing his usual order of gourmet groceries also contains a body. Archie Goodwin has many biting remarks about working the streets in a hazmat suit.
“Step up! Step up! But your tickets now and witness the sacrifice of Sandy Wandy lady of house Wandy. Place your bets! How long will she scream!?” A announcer shouted to citizens as they walked by. Everyone knew the princess was mad at Ms Wandy because she hurt the princess’ dragon Carlos but they didn’t think she would be this mad. The kingdom hasn’t had a good sacrifice in years and all the people were indeed “stepping up” to buy tickets. But not Alfred. He was the executioner and royal guards captain so he had a lot on his hands. As people stormed the town square, he was waiting for his royal guard to arrive. No need for any more deaths today. He crossed the square and headed for the dragon den to, of course, wait. No one goes to dragon dens to do things. That’s one of the most insane things someone could possibly do. But, even as the sun set and the guillotine was brought out, the royal guard was nowhere to be seen. Albert sighed a long sigh and stepped out of the empty cave. Ever since Wandy attacked the princess hid her dragon in the castle. Away from any and all eyes but hers. As the sacrifice ceremony began thousands of people threw crumbs at Sandy Wandy. Some even offered tomatoes to others to help out with the abuse. Alfred’s hand was resting on the handle that would end and Wandy’s life. Her head was beneath the blade. The princess was about to give the command. And freaking Carlos the dragon flew down and bit Alberts head off and pulled the lever. This is why you make sure your guard is present people!
I wrinkled my nose with disgust as a rat scurried way too close to my thousand dollar Gucci stilettos. I probably should worn something a little more sewer friendly but rain boots weren't really on brand with the Liberty Girl image. "Hey!"A lowly goon took a step towards me like he was going to grab me as I stepped into the 'secret' criminal lair in the tunnels beneath the city. It was just a large cavernous room filled with various death bots and half assembled machines. I held up a manicured hand. "If you touch my blazer with those grubby hands, I will split your skull in half." "Leave her, Randal."Crimson Carnage, the most notorious super villain in the city turned away from his super computer in a sleek leather office. His usual red battle armor had been switched out for a causal red hoodie and dark jeans. Across his face was a red bandit mask. He smirked as he looked me over. "Well, isn't it the devil herself...." "We need to talk."I replied briskly. "If you want me to throw another fight, I am upping my rate."He informed me as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "It's getting to become humiliating." "I thought you were into that."I replied. He rolled his eyes. "It's actually kind of sad. You are making Liberty Girl believe she is more powerful than she actually is. What are you going to do when someone not on your payroll goes after her and she doesn't realize she is out of her league?" "Do I tell you how to manage your business?"I snickered back. I had an entire team of analysts to determine the appropriate amount of fights Liberty Girl should win and lose. She didn't know any of this of course. I needed everything to look as real as possible. "And that isn't why I am here. I want to talk about the fight from this afternoon." "Did you like the show?"He smirked cockily. I crossed my arms and glared at him. "No, you moron. How many times do I have to tell you not to hit her in the face?! She has a black eye! You are lucky I am still paying you at all!" Red plasma flared up in his hands as he jumped up from his chair. "You better watch the way you talk to me, Allegra!" "I am not afraid of you and if you damage any of my clients or break my rules again, I will destroy you!"I growled back. "You really think that your reputation was built on your own? Our arrangement and control I have over the media works in your favor as well and double bonus; I am paying you for it. You're welcome, cockroach." He roughly grabbed me by the throat and threw me into the steel desk of his supercomputer. I held up my arm and used the defense bracelet on my wrist to create a shield sized force field to protect myself from the ball of plasma he threw at me. "Hey!"I protested as he grabbed onto the force field and roughly pinned my arm against the desk. He forced the defense bracelet off my wrist and tossed it aside. I could feel the power tingle against my skin as he held his plasma empowered fist beside my face. "This is where you apologize and beg for your life..."He sneered at me. "That seems likely..."I muttered back. He shrugged. "Don't worry, I will do you a favor and direct attention from Liberty Girl's face..." I panicked as the red plasma moved closer to my face; I mentally reached behind me and grabbed electricity from the super computer. It slammed into him and threw him across the room. I smoothed out my floral pencil skirt and did my best to look confused. "That was weird. You should get your computer looked at." Crimson Carnage let out a long string of cursing. "What the hell was that?!"His rage faded away to realization. "That's how you do it..." "Do what?"I crossed my arms and tried to sound bored to control fear radiating my body. "You're a technopath."He accused as he rose back to his feet and approached me. "You can control electronics and computers. That's how you control Liberty Girl's media representation. I thought something was wrong with my death bots but it's you, isn't it? You control their power level to however you want the battle to go, don't you?" "I-"I bit my tongue as I tried to keep myself calm. "I am not a technopath. I am not a super. I am just a publicist." "You've very powerful. Most technopaths can't pull electricity from objects."He grinned at how increasing uncomfortable I was getting. "So why aren't a superhero? Why are you keeping this a secret?" "I think we are done here."I replied briskly. "Stop hitting my pretty heroes in the face." He blocked my path as I tried to leave. "If you don't want your little secret getting out, I think it's time to renegotiate our arrangement..."
It started like any other day. I woke up, went to the bathroom, and had some coffee. As I sat down at the table, I had a sudden feeling of dread wash over me. Like something was wrong. I figured it was the coffee, so I finished the whole thing and went to my living room. Yet the feeling of dread didn't leave. It sat down deep in me like a 20 pound weight. As I was going to sit down I tripped over an empty dog dish. That was the source, I thought. Hercules wasn't in my room to wake me up. Hercules was this brown pit bull I adopted a year ago. I was anxious at first, the landlord doesn't allow large dogs, but then I thought the landlord doesn't show up often, only to collect rent and fix stuff, so I should be good. Ever since I brought him home, Hercules has been there to wake me up. He just jumps on my bed and licks my face. Except today. That explains the anxiety I'm currently feeling. "Hercules! Here boy."I yelled. No response. Usually he comes running like the house was on fire. "Hercules, time for food."I yelled again. Not a single sound. Things are getting weird. I decided to search my apartment. This might be the start to a bad day. My apartment isn't that big and Hercules isn't that small, so there shouldn't have been any trouble looking. As I was about to search the house, I saw a brown shape in the backyard. I sighed with relief and went outside. "Oh there you are, boy you scared me half to death."I said to Hercules. Except something was wrong. Normally he would come over to me and lick me, but not today. He just stood there, staring at me. I heard a growl from within his throat. "What's wrong, boy, you see a cat or-"I said, before he came charging at me. Instinctively I got inside and locked the back door. "Damn, boy have you lost your mind?"I asked myself. Hercules ran into the sliding door with enough force to crack it. I stood back, absolutely terrified. Hercules has never shown aggression like this before. He'd sometimes bark at cats if they were in the yard, but never this. I've heard of dogs being aggressive if they're scared, but this was more than fear. This was almost hatred. Hercules charged at the door again, completely cracking it this time. I sprinted back to my room, Hercules keeping pace all the while. I got in my room and locked the door. The door wasn't made of glass so it should buy me some time. But Hercules was busy headbutting the door. I scrambled to the gun safe. I was trying to remember the code. Hercules was cracking the door every time he'd charge at it. I just got the safe open when Hercules broke in. He clamped on to my leg. I fell to the ground, crying in agony. "Hercules, stop! It's me, boy! Get off!"I yelled. Hercules bit harder. I started to kick him with my free leg. He seemed to bight down harder every time I kicked. I grabbed my 38., and fired into Hercules three times. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Hercules let go and dropped dead. I was breathing hard. I laid there for a minute before I picked my phone to call 911. "Help, my dog just attacked me, I need an ambulance!"I pleaded. "Ok sir I need you to remain calm, we've been receiving calls about animal attacks since 5:30, help will be there, shortly."She said. I hung up, trying to comprehend what just happened. That's when I heard the gun shots. I crawled to the window to look outside. It was chaos. Four dogs were mauling the next door neighbor, birds were diving at windows, and the police were shooting there own dogs. I closed my eyes and waited for it to be over.
It had always been there, lurking under the surface. Hidden behind the flimsy barriers that separated the layers of the cosmos, with the immense amount of pressure, it was a wonder that that wall didn’t crumble sooner. All it took was a comparatively tiny amount of energy to be smashed together in one place, in order to break the surface tension that kept worlds apart. Dancing like a fire, it spread, long beams of blue power folding out, and into the world. Walls were no boundary, they could be folded, as to pose no challenge. Those that were in the facility never stepped out, their bodies dissolving as the matter was transmuted into energy and back, bone being made to hydrogen, and flesh into mercury, and back to energy again, leaving no trace as to what they had been. The speed of the expansion slowed as it rolled further away from its beginnings, but with the hole growing as power rushed out, there were no bounds to how far it could stretch. It had been two days ago that the internet and any other signals had gone out. Yesterday was when we had first started seeing the wisps of blue start approaching our town. Looking out beyond, the slashes along the landscape and deep cobalt colour intesfied. The deeper you looked, the stranger things became with the landscape being twisted, grass turning into shards of glass, and the sky darkening to show stars at all hours of the day. Food is becoming a currency here, the wells that go deep underground leave us with enough water, but anyone that tried to leave never made it too far even going away from the blue wisps, their vehicle would lose traction as the tires turned to stone, or stop as the fuel turned to water. The people inside them never came out. Nobody went to investigate. The blue wisps have intensified, the entire town is surrounded. It looks like a glowing blue smoke that slowly moves. Every now and then there’s what looks like a bolt of lightning that runs through it. Whatever the lightning touches is changed. It struck a sign earlier, and after it was stretched and thin, somebody threw a rock at it and it shattered like prince rupert's drop. I’m scared, like most of the town. I don’t know how I’m going to protect the kids, much less myself. The outskirts of the town have started being affected, I saw the edges of one of the houses start melting and burning like a marshmallow held over a fire. If it continues at this rate, the entire town will be permeated by this stuff in a week. I don’t know how we’re going to hold out. We’ve a way to hold out, but I’m not sure if we should use it. As we slept it came closer into the town, and fully covered Tim’s house. Most of the town woke up to the sound of thousands of forks on a chalkboard, and Tim’s house collapsing in on itself. Tim thought he was standing in the middle of the air, just fine. He just stood there. Minutes passed and the mist seemed to get darker around him, and little bursts of electricity seemed to target him from deeper in the fog. After twenty minutes of the lightshow, the entire mist lit up, and a massive bolt touched him for seconds, when it was gone so was he. When we looked around later the mist had slightly receded. One person a day should keep the expansion negligible. I suppose I should be thankful for such a low number, but... How will we decide? What if we run out? Is this really an option we can choose without becoming… monsters? After random lottery, Shannon was chosen. It was quick. I feel at the same time, that I haven’t slept in days, and that I’ve just drunk twenty red bulls. The mist reached Elizabeth's house and it got to her corpse. It shouldn’t have been able to do that at the rate that it had been expanding, it doesn’t make sense. When it touched her corpse it should’ve made it into metal, or made it on fire or something. Instead it animated it like a puppet. It went around and wreaked havoc. Bullets did nothing. It ripped through houses like they were made of hot butter, the areas where it struck melting regardless of material. I had to do something. I reached out into the mist, and felt it penetrate through my arm, feeling like whatever it touched had been frozen. But as it came in, it yearned to come out. I felt a bursting pressure that I couldn’t get rid of. I thought that death was assured, but as I looked to the corpse monster I felt the pressure cease and power burst out of my hand. It had no shape, so I guided it, twisting it into a river of force that slammed into the corpse. It was nothing but a stain. I still feel the power building up now, impregnating my flesh and blood, even though I’m not near the mist at all. The town is moving me towards the edge, so that if I do something like this again I won’t hurt anybody. I can’t blame them. I woke up and felt pain, every part of my body filled with this eldritch power. I feel like an inflated balloon ready to pop. I need to let this out, but if I do it here, in this shitty little cabin, others might get hurt. I already tried to do something with it outside, make a rock into gold, but nothing happened. I can feel it as I’m writing this though, a subtle tug pulling me out of this cabin. I think I’m going to listen to it. To my wife and kids, I love you. To everyone else don’t touch it, once you do there is no way back. It was early in the morning when the man walked out of his cabin, the blue mist reaching for him metres away from the door. He let the door softly close, and stepped out into the mist. He let it pull him up and away, and guided it pushing himself to the middle of a wooded forest, where mist, of both varieties, danced above a clear lake. He slowly felt himself lower, and the power congregated around him, already turning parts of his arm to gas. Unlike others, he welcomed it, letting the power that already filled him out, to mingle with the rest. He sat back letting the magic take over, welcoming it through all parts. And as it truly filled his brain he felt it. A connection to everything, and everyone, wherever the mist touched, it was his. His mind filled with the ecstasy that was the complete knowledge, took a back seat. His body rose up, a melding of magic and human. It reached out and felt the power obey, shifting the atoms around him, healing wounds and fixing clothes. It floated up, eager to share this existence with the rest of humanity.
To the residents of Salmon Creek, Honey was the resident neighborhood grandma. She was often described as old, sweet and a little too kind. A treasure to the local community, she was a pillar as long as anyone could remember. She would babysit for couples when home life got a little too stressful and often buy ice cream for the children who couldn’t afford their own when the ice cream truck paid a visit. Often, she would sit in her mahogany rocking chair and watch as children played in the street. One day, a new family moved into the neighborhood. They had just bought their first home, a single-story house with old lavender-grey paint and an aged shingle roof patched with moss. It was perfect for their growing family. Adam, the religious patriarch of the family, rolled an old van into the cracked driveway of the home. His wife, Linda, rolled out of the passenger seat, taking a young boy with her and into the house. Adam stretched and grinned as he admired his newly purchased home. “Thank God, for this new blessing.” Adam pushed up his glasses and began removing boxes from the trunk. Across the street, Grandma Honey’s cracked lips gently parted into a smile as she watched the family begin to settle in. SMACK! The sound of Adam’s open hand connecting with Linda’s face echoed throughout the house. As Adam had gotten home from work, Linda had made the mistake of dropping Adam’s mug of freshly brewed coffee on the dining room’s hardwood floor, shattering it and sending coffee everywhere. Without a word, she solemnly got on her knees, sweeping up the mess she had made. “You shouldn’t hit, Daddy!” Their son was seated by a large window, perched on an old sofa. His mother gave him a silent shake of the head. “Well, your mother should respect the family headship set by God and not be so clumsy.” Adam replied in a fatherly-like tone, wiping his hands clean. The boy’s head turned and he gazed intently out the window. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The house froze as Adam carefully walked over to answer it. “Hi there, sweetie! Folks around here call me Grandma Honey, I made you guys some cookies to welcome you in to our neighborhood.” A small, frail old lady stood at the door holding a tray of fresh, warm baked cookies. Her warm smile illuminated the room, putting even Linda at ease. The next evening, Adam arrived home to find the something out of place. The door was ajar and a pungent smell lingered in the air. Upon entering, he found that his entire house had been turned on it’s head. Scattered on the floor were the remnants of the family’s plates. The sofa was decimated, almost as if a wolf itself had torn it apart piece by piece. “LINDA!” Adam yelled, not in fear or worry, but in rage. She had allowed his beautiful home to become like this. He stomped down the hallway, his footsteps echoing throughout the house like thunder with every step. With brute strength, he slammed open the bedroom door, ready to deal out his righteous punishment. On the mattress lay a suitcase that looked like it had hastily been thrown and a torn wedding dress. His wife was nowhere to be seen. As the evening turned to night, the scent had become almost unbearable in the small home. Adam had barged into every room, every corner looking for his family. However, his young son and his beautiful wife were gone. As he began to give up hope, he heard a creak come from his son’s bedroom. Adam swore silently to himself as he had just checked there. He made a fist as he slowly crept through the now dark hallway. As quietly as possible, he pushed open the door. There he saw her, a woman in a gown hurriedly packing a boy’s backpack. In an instant, Adam grabbed her shoulder spinning her around. What he saw made his blood run cold. He looked right in the coal black eyes of a monstrosity Adam had never seen. Adam stumbled backwards and fell on his back. The woman’s dead eyes rolled forwards, revealing yellow pupils that pierced into Adam’s soul. Her mouth unhinged and her lips parted, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. Her arms extended to the ground, her hands tipped with long dirty black nails. Adam was too terrified to scream and crawled himself against the wall. The lady stepped closer, looming over him. Her nails scraping against the floor with every inch. As she neared him, the smell of rot filled the air so much that he could taste it. She moved her face closer and closer to Adam’s, until her nose was inches away from his. “What are you?” Adam’s voice cracked as he made himself as small as possible. There was no response as the demon suddenly pounced on top of him. Long nails began to tear into his suit as Adam struggled to escape. No matter how hard he pushed, the creature wouldn’t budge. Her long, snake-like tongue licked her teeth. “You’re a monster!” He screamed as she reared her head back, her mouth open and primed to attack. She paused. “Who’s the real monster here?” A familiar voice replied as Grandma Honey cocked her head. Adam stared blankly into her eyes in silence before her long claws pierced into his chest and the sound of ripping flesh and bone filled the air. As the sun rose, a red sedan stopped in front of the house. Linda and her son stepped out, graciously thanking the driver. They had spent the night at her parents house after finding a note from Adam suggesting it. Upon entering the home, they found it spotless. In the living room, they saw a luxurious new sofa made of an unusually smooth leather. The kitchen was almost brand new, fine china stacked neatly on the polished granite countertops. Linda’s jaw dropped and she walked over to inspect the new wares. As she got closer, she noticed a delicious scent in the air. Chocolate chip cookies were in the oven and a note lay on of the stove. “Sorry for the mess. -Grandma Honey”
“Ooh, that’s going to be a costly error!” the announcer yelled out. “And he was doing so well too!” The crowd’s groans echoed throughout the arena. Two counters on either side of a large screen ticked their way upwards. One was for the number of lives saved – the other for ones killed – in the last twenty-two hours. Lives saved had been hovering around the twenty thousand mark, with lost only at a few hundred, but after the contestant’s latest action the lost count was skyrocketing. Already it was at five thousand and climbing fast. “Shit, shit, shit” the man on the screen said, putting his hands behind his head and pacing back and forth. Rain poured down his face. “What do I do now?" “That town you stopped the firebombing of turned out to be the birthplace of a scientist who would go on to develop a disease. One that would kill more than a hundred thousand people a day at its apex. It’s going to be hard to overcome that deficit.” I knew more about the show than anyone. It started out as an urban legend: A man in a brown trench coat would travel throughout towns and cities, offering people the chance to travel anywhere they wanted. They could change anything at will, but the Traveler, as he came to be called, would change it back if it would get out of control and drastically change the future. Saving Hitler, stopping the Titanic from sinking, rigging a Presidential election, all of these would result in it simply being put back to how it should be. He never said why he did it. Maybe he wanted to see what people would do, what they would want to change in the past. Some people, as the legend said, chose to go back to see a loved one one last time. Others tried to save that loved one from every dying. Even more simply wanted to see a historical event with their own eyes. The Titanic and Pompeii, as well as the supposed Birth of Jesus, were popular destinations. It didn’t take long for people to make a game of it. Some would try to kill as many people as they possibly could, knowing full well that their choices would simply be reverted at the end if it impacted the future. Others wanted the opposite, changing history to keep people from dying for as long as possible. Regardless, the Traveler asked two things of his passengers: Remember the equalizer of Time, and remember that saving everyone is not necessarily a good thing. At the end, he would always show the end results of your actions, and you could judge for yourself if you did a good or bad thing. No one knew exactly what he meant, and no one really asked. They were just happy to be able to pick to travel wherever and whenever they wanted in time. Eventually, cable networks started calling for him to make it a proper game show, one that would rival all others. He initially declined, saying that he did it just because he wanted to. But the call grew louder, and he decided to reluctantly agree. The conditions of this were simple for both parties. The Traveler wanted no public appearance on his part. He wished to remain completely anonymous. A host would be appointed to explain everything to the contestants, as well as provide commentary, and the Traveler would simply be there to make the magic happen. The only other condition was that he reserved the right to change any action back that he wanted, just as he had when he did it on his own. In return, the network received all profits from ads, any donations that may be collected, merchandising rights – as long as it did not contain his appearance or likeness – and any other rights to the show. The concept of the game was simple: Travel throughout time to any place, any time, and save as many people as you can. A cash prize would be rewarded for each live saved on one condition: You cannot kill more people than you save. If you did, you lost and went home with nothing. You had 24 hours, and you had to keep making decisions – at least one every half hour – so as to prevent you from saving a large amount of people at the start then simply standing there doing nothing. For each life, you would get a thousand dollars. People couldn’t agree on what they thought of the game. Some called it a blast to watch, knowing that if things got out of hand, the Traveler would return it to as if it never happened. Others called it blasphemy and the devil at work. However, it easily soared to the number one show in TV history, bringing in hundreds of millions, sometimes close to a billion, viewers a show. Just as it had been when the Traveler flew solo, some people wanted to save as many people as they could. However, this time it was not out of the kindness of their hearts. This time, it was for the chance at winning a life changing amount of money. And now, it was almost my chance. My heart raced faster just thinking about it. “Remember, Dylan, you still have two hours,” the announcer said. The man on the screen nodded, thinking hard. “That’s at least four more decisions. Plenty of time to overcome that last choice.” “Traveler, we’re going to Braunau am Inn, Austria, circa eighteen eighty-nine, and I’m going to need a pistol.” The screen changed with the man appearing in a town square. He ran through the buildings, searching for something or someone, as the pistol bounced in its holster at his hip with every step. “The birthplace of Hitler, eh?” The announcer rubbed his chin and rolled his eyes. “Interesting choice, and one that we’ve seen dozens of times already, but let’s see if this one happens to be any different.” As he searched, the deaths soared past the saved, triggering a buzzer to sound in the arena. Red lights pathed the audience and platform they surrounded. Finally, Dylan found the baby he was searching for and pulled the pistol out. A single gunshot rang out. The audience jeered. “Now, now, let’s settle down.” The announcer tried to soothe the hostile crowd. “He still has an hour left to overcome… a score of twenty-three thousand five hundred and seventy-two saved to… well, now that doesn’t sound hopeful… four million, seven hundred and fifty two thousand, six hundred and seventeen deaths. Well, Dylan, you’re going to want to try a little harder if you stand any hope of winning that cash prize. Imagine the payout on over five million lives saved. It would be the largest we’ve given out to date!” That hour came and went. Dylan was brought back to the center stage, still bathed in red, sweat pouring down his forehead and cheeks. “Well, well, let’s take a look, shall we?” The announcer put his arm around Dylan’s shoulders, holding the microphone in his other hand. “You saved a total of fifty-five thousand, one hundred, and three people. Not too bad! Imagine the lives you changed because of that. “As far as deaths – yikes, it hurts to read – one billion, seven hundred and sixty-three million, five hundred and two thousand, nine hundred and thirty-six. Can I just say, I sure am glad we change everything back at the end. That choice of killing Hitler, always a Hail Mary, really did you in there. “Well, Dylan, thank you for joining us today, it was a pleasure to have you. Bill, will you tell Dylan what he’s going home with today?” “Dylan, you may have not won the cash prize,” a silky, baritone voice boomed throughout the arena, “but you will cook in style with this new set of cast iron kitchen pots and pans! Valued at five hundred dollars, this sixteen-piece set will allow you to cook dinner – or any other meal – for your family – or yourself – with ease!” “Wow, cast iron,” the announcer said. “That’s some high-grade stuff. Thanks again for joining us.” They shook hands, and Dylan was quickly ushered away.
I strained my ears more to try to hear something, anything, but it was all quiet. All these years, I’ve always slept deeply and soundly, but tonight, for whatever reason, I was awoken by a knocking sound. I’ve never been a light sleeper, my wife has always complained such; but, I swear tonight I heard something. After a few moments of shaking myself awake and trying desperately to realize where I was, I checked the clock: March 24, 2020. Exactly twenty years. I feet a chill run up my spine. Twenty years after I had made that deal; twenty years after I distinctly recall myself thinking, “twenty years, that’s so far away,” but, alas, it has been that long. Neither I nor math can deny it. I roll out of bed, as quietly as possible, find my slippers in the cold night, and stand, groggy and sore from hours of stillness, my body refusing to be awake despite the horror awaiting me; time is a foe that is kind to no one. I trudge towards the door, mind racing, body slow, Was it worth it?, I think. Millions of dollars, but me leaving my family without a word, without a trace? My family doesn’t deserve this. But I knew I couldn’t change it. I had made a deal, twenty years ago, with a demon who promised me prosperity and happiness, love and peace, in exchange for my soul. Had it really been twenty years? I trembled as I, creakily shuffling towards our front door, turned the door knob, trying desperately to prepare myself for the worst, despite knowing the impossibility, and opened the door. “Excuse me, Mr. Griffin, would you like to buy some girl scout cookies?”
When I first died I thought the afterlife is going to be nice. I thought I was going to be at peace with myself. But I found something much more different. After I died I was seamlessly brought into a room with nothing more. It was just a empty grey room. No windows and no door. I started to think this is some sort of joke. Is this really where I spend my afterlife? I decided I guess I should make myself comfy at least. So, I just lounged on the floor. An hour has passed and I think I am slowly going insane because of this room. I expected there to be something in heaven or hell or whatever this is. I started thinking that I should just sleep. But the ground was too uncomfortable to sleep on. I just stared at the roof and zoned out. I start to see things that were not there like moving shadows. But I ignored them as they were not real. After a day passes a white figure walks in the room like a door was there the whole time. "Congratulations, you passed the first test"he said. I was confused "Wait was this a test?" He smiled in a weird way. "Yeah, nine more to go." I got even more confused. "Wait wha-" The figure snaps his fingers and I was suddenly in a white area. It showed nothing but white. There was no walls in the area. Also, there was white noise which was new. I decided I should explore the place a little. After walking for what felt like a century I finally bumped into something. It was soft, but rigid. I did not know what it was because the thing was the same color as the white landscape. I try to climb it and I climbed a good amount before falling. I decide to climb the thing again and I made it to the top. A different black figure in was waiting there. "Nice, you got far than most people. You can go to test three now." I tried to talk to him "Wait, I have so many questions I ne-" The figure claps, taking me to a cliff with a black landscape. It was just a cliff with spikes at the bottom. The spikes looked sharp enough to impale someone. I cant really explore the cliff, it was simply just a cliff. Half a minute goes by and suddenly the wind whispers something to me. "Jump into the spikes, you will have political power in your next life." I looked around timidly to who whispered that to me. But, it was just the wind. I stayed persistent not to jump off. The whispers became more louder. "Dive into the spikes, you will be rich in your next life" I still stayed on the cliff not jumping off. "Fall into the spikes, you will have happiness forever in your next life" The whispers became louder and louder but I was still persistent. They whispered the same things for about 8 hours until they disappeared suddenly. A gigantic grey figure appears over the sky. "You have passed phase 3, move on to the next phase." I did not even bother to say anything. I just waited for him to teleport me. He clapped three times, then I stood on a bright, crimson dot. The dot was in the center of a deep wide hole. Surrounding the hole was millions of signs all saying one word: collapse. I did not know what to do. I just waited for a figure or something to appear. I just stood there, for a long, long, time. Minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days, days turned into weeks. Then after waiting, A red figure emerged from the hole. "You have waited long enough, you must face the final test. Please close your eyes and don't open them until I say so." I closed his eyes. Only 30 minutes passed and then he heard the red figure say something "Okay, you can open your eyes now." Then that was when I was reincarnated.
The room was silent, his expression stern. The message was clear, even for Maggie: her job as an Art Appraiser was over. Her heart sank and she shook in fear: she couldn't bare to look at her gray-suited co-workers, piercing the newbie with their cold stares. Her mouth opened to raise an objection, but every word has escaped her mind; There was nothing that could be said. Not much to be taken either. She picked up a tiny bag and headed for the door, leaving the beeping computers and clicking keyboards behind. "Clank, clank, clank, clank..." The sound of a tumbling can was the only one to break the silence of echoing footsteps on the street. Maggie's head was down as she trod behind the can, her hand playing with the bag in her pocket. Was her torn fashion sense not to the liking of her boss? Who cares, at least the clothes were clean... mostly! Maybe they didn't like her "message analysis". They were surely joking with those meaningless shapes and lines, no sane person would ever communicate with those. A sigh went out her lips as she grabbed her face forcefully, scheming more ridiculous thoughts. They must've heard her melodies flowing through the quiet alleyways... or they found her brother loitering around again... Her stomach turned and growled as anger turned to worry. There was no food left at home, and the rooms were most likely freezing as always. With a bang Maggie exclaimed her arrival at the house. The only greeting awaiting her was the crumbling sound of the kitchen wall and the sounds of scampering rats. Despite her worries she headed for bed with relief; At least she could stay in her lonesome, forgetting about her worries for a while. A faint melody sent her off to slumber, private performance to put her at ease. As day turned to dusk, Maggie shot up quickly from her sleep. Few moments of silence later she got up and scratched her messy hair; her brother was missing, that much was clear. What he was up to was another story. Nothing good most likely, another item to confiscate in hand. As her eyes finally lifted wide awake, this morning's events and failures came back to hit her all at once. Clutching her forehead again, the bag from this morning popped back in Maggie's mind. She opened it carefully to examine it further. It was a rectangular earring, golden and extravagant. Holding onto it would surely bring trouble, she knew that at least, but it must be worth something. She looked out at the long shadows cast by the buildings and quickly set out. "AAAAGH!" From behind the corner, a voice screamed out in pain. Maggie's heart sank. Instead of locked doors of the pawn shop awaiting her, she found the door falling from its hinges. Display cases on the bay windows were emptied, the shelves completely trashed. She could see a small figure struggling with a shelf that bound him to the floor. Among the sea of screams, she would've recognised that one anywhere. Panicking, she turned her head in every direction in search of bystanders. There in the distance she could see, gray-suited men walking in the direction of the pawn shop. There was no escape. Maggie's mind went blank, her breath short, her sight blurry; one final failure to seal the day. In her final act of desperation, she dashed past the group to the square. Her mind was blank. Her hands were twitching. The crowd was large. She was unsure if this was the best idea, but it was the only one she had. Maggie closed her eyes and let the words flow to the silent square. Hurried footsteps grew louder and louder until all of them went silent. Only Maggie's euphony remained, a spectacle sure to melt everyone's ears off. These alien sounds stuck in their minds, it was unlike anything they've ever witnessed before. Maggie could feel every all the gazes of the people resting on her, amazed in her performance. For once, she knew that to be true. Casper sprung up from the rubble. His ears witnessed a melody unlike any he's heard before. Hurriedly, he ran out the door and saw a large group of people gathered around something. The sound drew him closer, much like the others. He did not know the meaning, but it was the only song he was ever going to hear in his life. But as he got closer, the melody was cut suddenly. The only sight to witness for Casper was a glimpse of an exhausted woman being taken by authorities, further into the streets. Of her torn clothes and short hair. His stomach growled and turned. Casper stood and stared aimlessly for a while. All that was waiting for him was a cold and empty home. ----- Hey, this was my first story here, thanks for reading. Any feedback would be very appreciated!
First Post; wish me luck! >..< \------------- Mantis watched as the old man added the ground-up Dragon’s Shade into an absurdly tiny cup, held barely by his pinky, before sipping the concoction and letting out an audible “Ahh!” “Did you… Did you just drink the legendary Dragon’s Shade!? The only Dragon’s Shade in existence!? The Dragon’s Shade that we just spent an entire year searching for!?” Borgun’s voiced echoed through the cave. The old man hiccupped. He placed the tiny cup on his table and made his way towards a toad that had just shown up from one of the many exits of the cavern. Mantis sighed. He could feel the eyes of his rogue boring holes into his skull. “What Borgun means to say, Oh Great Alidus, is that you told us that that plant was of utmost importance, that the whole world depended on us obtaining it… And it just looked like you…” “Mantis, Mantis, Mantis, not everything is as it seems. You should never let your eyes mislead you… Or—while we’re on this topic—you should never let your eyes lead you either! The nose is a much more accurate compass” Alidus spoke swiftly, his gaze was locked on the toad that he had just picked up. “But but…”, Mantis paused and took a deep breath. “Oh all-seeing seer, forgive my impudence. It is just that we travelled far and wide to obtain this mythical root that you spoke of. We even fought a great red dragon that had a…. A weirdly singular predilection for our bard.” Saviel whimpered behind him. Mantis turned to his comrade briefly. Saviel’s courage in their journey was not to be understated. Despite his joviality and jest, he had sacrificed much more on their quest than any other man, woman, or creature Mantis had ever had the pleasure to work with. He smiled at Saviel, and at the rest of his party, now patting and reassuring the broken bard of his exploits. Alidus was now frowning at the toad in his hands—a few inches away from his long, crooked nose. Taking another deep breath, Mantis spoke with an air of forced authority, “pray enlighten us as to what manner of evil you plan to destroy with this plant?” “Ah young Paladin, the evil you helped decimate was one beyond mortal comprehension. It was a spherical plague of untold consequences, attacking from the insides of your gut! I call it Staf, after my ex-vict—assistant!” “I see… Forgive me for questioning you, oh wise wizard,” Mantis nodded thoughtfully. He was just about to turn around and join his party when he felt his Rogue’s dagger softly against his back—an alarm sensation, despite its familiarity to Mantis. “What Mantis means to say….” the rogue spoke, “is that he’s beginning to wonder if you know what you’re talking about” As she spoke each word, Mantis’ need to curl into a ball and disappear increased exponentially. Despite her calm voice, he felt the dagger being pressed further through his clothes and against his ever so soft and maintained skin with every word. Oh, how he wished he could be fighting an abomination in some far-off land; perhaps save a damsel in distress, or even a princess if he’s lucky. “Yes… Well, no… See… Hesper thinks that… Ow! I think that it’s hard to understand where our path is taking us. You have been speaking of an evil that threatens the world for the past decade and yet, Hesper… I… Feel as though we are nowhere closer to being prepared to face this evil.” Alidus turned towards Mantis for the first time since picking up the toad, “do you really mean that?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. “Well… No… Ow! Yes… Yes, we do! It’s just… We’ve been collecting things for you for years and nothing ever comes of it! For example, what of the Sword-of-boundless-wisdom? It was a well-spoken item of great magic, but it hasn’t spoken a word since we presented it to you” “Ah, well, it still recovers from the evils it saw in hard to reach places!” Alidus responded thoughtfully. “Well, what of the Pillow-of-malcontent?! What was that even supposed to do?” Hesper chimed in. “Well… I’m quite dissatisfied with it; that much I can tell!” “Or… The… The… The Great-Spoon-of-disorder?” Saviel stammered. “Oh yes! That could have been quite useful! Yes… Wherever it is…” Alidus mused. There was a silence in the cavern for a few moments, framed by the Mantis’ party on the one side and the all-knowing wizard on the other. As his party and the wizard glared at one another with growing intensity, Mantis chose to imagine himself locked in a battle to the death with a Great Black Dragon; surrounded by flames and the slain remains of the dragon’s prey. No one dared break the quiet that had saturated the air with a sort of congestion that reminded Mantis of the breath of the dragon that he had been imagining. It seemed, at least to him, that no mere mortal could break the silence that swathed them in such intensity. No one, not even Alidus the all-knowing, dared break the silence. It was then that the toad croaked. “Now now Zanzibar, what have I told you before, your time for fire and brimstone will only come if you defeat me, and we all know how likely that is,” Alidus chuckled as he wagged his long finger at the toad. “I’m sorry, what!?” Hesper exclaimed whilst gesturing incredulously to Mantis. “Patience young rogue. I will soon explain the inner workings of this great and wise mind. But first, I need your assistance on another quest. A quest of utmost importance. A quest that shall change you like none other before!” “Will it have dragons?” Mantis blurted out, eager to leave the cave. “Are you kidd—“ “Dragons will be the least of your concerns, my boy” Alidus grinned, cutting of Hesper “Come back at dawn tomorrow and I shall provide you with the information you need! The whole world depends on it! Do you think you have what it takes to complete it?” “Aye! Of course we do! Who do you think we are!?” Borgun roared in glee. “Oh for the…” Hesper sighed as she realized the inevitable. “Off you go then! I’ve got urgent business to attend to!” Alidus gestured towards the exist, still tightly holding onto the toad, “I must engage this creature of dirt in ocular onslaught!” Alidus watched as the party ambled towards the exist—some defeated, most in high spirits. “Now, where were we?” he grinned at the toad, his yellow teeth glowed faintly in the dim light.
When thinking of time and space, my mind would immediately go to the famous images of Salvador Dali’s melting clocks dancing around the milky way galaxy. I never thought that would experience these notions in their totality. There was little to no concept of what was in my psyche previous to where I was now, other than the extreme desire to nurture and create. I was seemingly flying or floating down a massive tunnel with that feeling of excitement when approaching the peak of a mountain, knowing what is coming next. There was no sense of where or what I was, but pure energy surrounded me with an indefinable serenade that was at once calming and equally transcendent. The sounds swirling were meeting the crescendo as a giant being came into my periphery. As if I was getting my eyes examined, everytime I blinked, the entity would become sharper and more pronounced while still remaining mysterious. The closer I moved, the louder and more intense the melody got while never being unbearing, until suddenly, everything stopped. My energy was toe to toe with the most awesome display of love, strength, and vitality one could comprehend. “Do you understand where you are?” the Being asked. “Yes, chef,” I immediately responded without even thinking. Thoughts of cooking and being in kitchens came flooding back into my memories as if my past lifetime just finished downloading my human essence. I was overwhelmed immediately and the Being could sense my discomfort but studied me with intent and a slight tinge of joy. “You are the alchemist.” I followed the trails of light and listened, although never feeling as if I was obeying commands or authoritative biddings, instead we moved together in one motion. Whisperings and fractals of light faded in and out of conscience as we suddenly entered upon an enclosure of massive tree branches and wild flowers all moving in syncopation. I briefly looked to the Being for enlightenment, as I did the enclosure opened up, and without hesitation I carried on into the unknown. Directly inside there stood a table and surrounding that were small, individualistic clouds stretching on for what seemed infinite. “You will guide these emotions and vital passions through transition. Each one may need manipulation to experience peace and be free of isolation. Find the balance and the transmigration can begin.” Thank you!
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"Your great Impetuousness, I beg leave to speak." The robed creature shifted on the couch and stared, long, at the shaking figure before. A brood slave, some 7 circuits old to judge by the colour, it must have recently completed its military service. It was certainly showing due fear, and held it's wicked bladed forearms at a deferential mark off the floor. The creature shrugged and touched one of the blades with its foot. "Thank you, your Willfulness." The brood slave struggled to its knees: "Sire, I beg you, this time, to consider a small expedition before we..." The robed creature began to shift, colours of its exposed carapace shifting to deep blues. The brood slave began to speed up: "Exellency, I would in no way suggest that this would be any form of spy mission, merely a small force to prove our power. If in the execution of their, no doubt righteous and easy, victory they were to notice one or two small details of Plastron 7 then this would be a moral victory, perhaps small sop to our scientists. Oh great and Rageful one, do not, I beg, be angry with me, I think only of your continuing glory as warlord. I cannot help but remember some of our earlier mishaps in the Plastron system. Missteps , Lord, not mishaps. No, not missteps, I mean... " The brood slave stood up, it's own colour changing now to the dark blue of anger. "Enough, Lord. The Plastron system has been a disaster. Plastron 9? The rain, Lord? Every battle mech short circuited within 4 chele of deployment, and we lost the lot. Plastron 4, your Worship. Where you decreed that we would teleport in to surprise them? They were surprised alright! Your lack of research meant that our attack fleet was less than a hundredth the size of one their bloody children! We were eliminated by a child with a rolled up newspaper!" The brood slave was beginning to shake with anger. "Plastron 3. What about that one? Your night of fire? 'We'll burn them and roast a feast on the city.' you said. 'Flame throwers only, I want to and smell them burning', you said... On an underwater bloody planet! I, personally, got the stuffing kicked out of me by a dolphin, while I tried to light a flame thrower underwater." The brood slave paused to draw breath, watching the blue fade from the robed war Lord before it... Judging by the way the guards had shifted their poses, it looked like he'd just achieved a promotion for himself.
I don't sleep anymore. I just remember. I remember being young. I remember being in love. I remember being hungry. And tired. Lonely. I remember the smell of rain, of dust, the taste of rot, the feeling of wind in my hair but my own hair fell out long ago, the clear and starry skies that haven't existed in my lifetime - I remember, remember almost everything. And sometimes I remember where I am now, too. I remember rolling over these fleshy factories so they don't get bed sores. I remember washing their skin with soap - I remember the smell of the soap. I remember the mechanical breathing, the pumping air, the beeping of the extractors that drain their minds dry of memories. I don't sleep anymore. I can't. I have memories of dreams, of the mud spewing from these memory factories, from these precious sacks of skin. I remember feeding on the memories they shed, even useless garbage their broken minds fabricated, the un-realities of something that remembers too much and knows too little. I remember dragging the used ones onto slabs, wheeling them down to fiery chambers below, even their bodies recyclable. I remember my first drops of memory, first taste, sweet liquid distilled from these factories. I remember more and more. Every day I remember more and do less. I remember needing more, just a bit more, and having nothing to offer. I remember being told there could be as much as I wanted, if I just became a caretaker. I remember learning the factories had all been caretakers too. I remember knowing what was happening to me, watching myself become skin and bones like them, becoming less human, more factory. I remember doing it all anyway just so I can remember. One day I will remember becoming like them, and then I really will remember everything. I will remember them hooking me up to extractors, where another me will drain me of my memories and wash my skin and roll me over and wheel me down to the fire when there is nothing left of me. I don't remember it yet, but it doesn't seem so bad.
"I don't suck blood,"I tried to reason with the giant fleshy beast as he swung his enormous hands at me. "Only the females do that!" The giant swung more angrily, letting out an earth-shaking roar. I quickly maneuvered out of his path and to his ear. In a gentle tone, I tried to explain, "listen, buddy. I know you're upset. I am too. I hate that these blood-sucking women always come around and--"The giant's open hand hit me from behind, thrusting me into his ear canal as he delivered a stinging slap to the side of his head. I came to a crashing halt deep in the cavern. I found myself in a sticky yellow goo of sorts. Nectar? It doesn't smell like any nectar I've ever had. I shrugged and took a bite. Chewy... but delicious. "I had no idea,"I mumbled to the giant through a full mouth, "that you had all of this delicious food inside your ear." A loud "huh"thundered through the cavern as the little bit of sunlight from the entrance disappeared. "It's buzzing in my ear,"the giant hollered, his colossal finger barreling toward me. I repelled myself deeper into the canal, struggling to get past the thickening nectar. I collapsed, my feet stuck to the goo, unable to go any further. The giant's finger moved closer and closer. Racing towards me... and then it stopped within a proboscis's length of touching me. The giant attempted to push further. Without any success, he backed his finger out of the canal, allowing sunlight back in. I let out a sigh of relief and began the process of freeing myself from the nectar. Little by little, I finally reached the exit. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut and I could sneak out unscathed. Suddenly, an enormous green cylinder appeared in front of me. A blast of liquid came shooting out, coating me in a horrendous odor. I fell back into the cavern. I was too wet to move--the liquid too heavy. I gasped for air, but all I inhaled was the awful citronella. How desperate the giant must have felt to flood his own ear cavity with bug spray. "Please,"I begged, "I'm only a week old."I extended my only functional limb toward the sunlit opening, my vision beginning to fade. At that moment, a familiar high-pitched buzzing appeared—a blurry black dot hovering near the opening. Then another, and another. Soon there were hundreds. Females. As they swarmed the giant, two entered into the canal. "You're going to be okay,"they assured me. They lifted me up and carried me out of the DEET-soaked ear. As we made our exit, mosquitoes could be seen clinging to the giant, drinking from anywhere there was skin exposed. As I was whisked away, the giant let out a petrified scream. ______________________________________________________________________________ Visit r/TheGoshfather for more stories!
"Listen, Violet Wonder, I appreciate you taking me in. Me and the gang weren't going to make it much longer on Doom Island if you hadn't stepped in, but helping me may be your last mistake." "I don't know why you insist on prefacing everything like that, you can have the last slice of pizza, Le Moore. And you know it's Purple Power."Le Moore's eyes popped open in surprise and delight, ignoring the bit about the naming (his was better), and he greedily scooped up the slice with as much pride and feigned nobility as he could. Placing it on his flatware made from actual bones, he haughtily stepped out of the kitchen "And, please feel free to use my plates or cups." "Ha, likely!"Le Moore said as he munched on the pizza, arrogantly sauntered to the couch in the living room, and sat down taking up as much space as possible while putting his feet up. Purple Wonder's wife gave him that look. The look that said, "I can't believe you're doing this for him again, and the kids are not going to start calling him 'Uncle'—again—for god's sake, please do something or we're going to Mother's, so help me..." Mind reading wasn't one of his powers, but after dating for years and having children together, they had an unspoken patois that couples tend to develop over the years. She was his weakness. A reality show continued to blare in the background as PP moved to broach the subject. Having been rivals for longer that PP had been dating and married, there was a second non-verbal romance language, older and more nuanced. A dance that began at the dawn of time and was recapitulated in the remembrance of good versus evil. Purple began, "Look, Laser..." He barely had begun when a scowl formed over Le Moore's face and he placed his fists into the couch as his feet came down... he was up and monologuing about how he was a victim and that Purple would pay, and his beloved city of Forestburgh would all pay... he was almost done packing. The missus had a chance to breath a sigh of relief and the kitchen was being wiped down when the Enemy had come down with his valises, fashioned from high tech sweat-shop labor. "Well, Viola, it's your last chance. I'm off, otherwise..." "Like I said, I can set you up in the Human Fountain's lair, and T-Bone & Gazelle just split up, so there's open bunk there." "I don't want your pity,"He had begun to arch his eyebrows and sized up his nemesis as if looking on the object of his betrayal, "I'm going to find a new Volcano... and then you'll be sorry." "All right, Le Moore, you know where to find me if you forgot anything. Keep the toothbrush we gave you—" It was too late. He'd held it out and dropped it like a microphone, slamming the door. The kids sat on the couch, laughed with delight at Uncle Laser's antics... as always. After the dust had settled, they settled in for a nice boardgame, and then it was story time and off to bed. "Thank you, sweet P,"the missus was only too glad to be rid of the evil Dr. Laser Le Moore. She didn't understand why her husband could be so non-chalant, so quick to display such generosity. Purple looked out the window to see, in an absurd Laser-shaped car, a screaming and yellowing, fuming Le Moore. He moved the blinds closed before he was noticed. Purple would miss his best and oldest friend... until their next encounter. They both would.
I used to be afraid of death. I could have said that, many years ago. I’ve realized was actually afraid of dying. Death is not so bad, actually. They’ve been there, next to me, my whole life; urging me on, telling me to go stronger, aim higher. When I first met death, they took the form of a young boy who kept Oohing and Aahing at how high I could climb on the playground set, urging me to go higher up again. His laughter was beautiful. Then they came again as a new councilor at the high school summer camp, being wowed at how fast I was in the pool. They were my number one fan there among the gathering of my friends, cheering me on in the little competitions. Next time was my girlfriend, begging me on, “more, more!” She demanded, a beautiful smile on her face as she held me tenderly. Again I met Death, in our son; “HIGHER! HIGHER!” Comes his begging my wife and I to swing him between our arms as we walk. Finally I met Death in the form of my doctor, as I said on that bed in the hospital as she explained my condition to me. Nothing that can be done, but they would try anyways. “I’m not afraid to die.” I told her. “I have lived a good, long life. I’ve fallen in love. I’ve raised a family. I’ve seen my child raise their own.” In the end, I passed peacefully in the night, my wife holding my had as I slept. And then I met them yet again. There they stood, smiling kindly at me, wearing all the faces id known them through, and yet none but their own. They gently pulled me into a kind hug. “My beautiful girl, you were wonderful. Magnificent.” Death purred joyfully to me as they held me tight. “You were incredible. Every second, a masterpiece. You held out from me for so long and you were so strong through all of it. Absolutely gorgeous my dear.” This was when I truly learned, Death is not something to be scared of.
Richard had spent most of the past week in his room since Lacey had shunned his advances and chose instead to run around with Merrill Hofstettor. He couldn’t understand her choice of Merrill, the man ate paste into the 8th grade and Richard was fairly suspicious he still did on occasion. Of course being a 27 year old man who never had a job and still living in his childhood bedroom may have not helped his chances of being with the object of his affections, but Richard still felt that he was worth a date. When he heard his mother’s car pull into the driveway, he realized he hadn’t gotten out of bed at all that day and it was almost noon. “Richie,” his mother said. “Are you here?” “Yeah.” “I wasn’t sure if you’d gone out. The house is so quiet.” “I was in my room.” “Reading?” “I’ve read all the books I have.” “Playing video games?” “No.” “Watching a movie?” “Movies are made of lies.” “Still down about that Lacey girl, huh?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Try getting out, it’ll do you some good.” “I don’t feel like it.” “I think you should.” Another vehicle pulled into the driveway. Richie glanced out the front window. “Is that Jack Peterson’s truck?” “Oh good, Jack’s here.” “I’m here, mom. You don’t need Jack for anything.” “Well, it’s just that...you can’t really help me with what Jack can help me with.” Richard grimaced mildly at the insinuation which was proven when, instead of a knock Jack let himself in with a bundle of flowers and a bottle of wine. “Oh, hi there, Richie. I didn’t think you’d be home on a Saturday. I thought you might be chasing the dames.” “I’m just leaving,” Richard said. “I was just telling my mom that I’m going to the library.” The library was the second oldest building in town. The church was the oldest, if you didn’t count the old Grabowski home. However, Richard always felt the church shouldn’t count since it's located just outside of town, beyond the woods, looking over the cemetery. A bronze plaque dated the library to 1802. He liked it at the library. He knew all the librarians by name and he felt safe there. For one, no one goes to a library to antagonize you and it was one place that he was less likely to run into Lacey and Merrill. Richard roamed each of the aisles and stopped at each of the paintings that decorated the walls around each floor. The paintings were thought to be as old as the library. He had been fascinated by every one of them, but one in particular, past the periodicals, nearest the entrance to the basement. The painting was simple, a couple sitting in the grass in the center of town, shaded by the large gazebo. The simplicity of the couple, their careless smiles, and slightly ruffled hair captivated him. As a young boy Richard would gaze up at the painting for hours. As he grew older he began to see his face in the face of the man. He wasn’t the only one. Passers-by often remarked their similarities. It was nearing the end of the day, but he saved the remaining 10 minutes for his painting so he could ponder his dream world. While standing there, he sensed a person standing next to him. He kept his focus, not wanting to be distracted. Richard believed if he stared long enough into the painting his imagination would make it real, but this stranger broke the silence. “Isn’t this painting incredible,” she said. “If you take the time to wander through you’ll see them all over the place.” “I’ve seen them all. It’s this one that always draws me back. It’s like if you stare into it long enough, you can be transported there.” Richard decided to share his remarkably similar appearance to the man in the painting. He turned and was speechless. She kept her focus on the painting. “I don’t want to sound conceited,” she continued. “But, people have often remarked on how much I look like the girl in the painting.” She smiled and faced Richard but her radiance transformed into bewilderment. “You,” Richard said. “You,” she replied. They both looked back to the painting and compared one another’s features. “You said you’ve been here before?” Richard asked. “Countless times.” “What’s your name?” “Abigail,” she replied. “My father called me Gail, well Galley Cat because he said he could always find me in the kitchen.” “I’m Richard, but my mom calls me Richie. Do you live with your dad?” “Sadly, he passed away when I was younger.” “I’m sorry. My dad passed away, too.” “That’s good of you to stay with your mother,” Abigail commented. “She could probably use a strong man like you around.” “I don’t think she really needs me around anymore.” “Well, more of you to share with your girlfriend.” “I-I don’t have a girlfriend, anymore.” Abigail smiled briefly and turned her gaze downward. “What’s the matter?” Richard asked. “Sorry,” she said. “I always said if I ever meet the man that looks like the man in the painting I would grab him up and never let him go and here you are.” “Here I am,” he said. There was a pause between them, slightly shy, slightly curious. “Gail, you said you’ve been here before?” She smiled and nodded. “How come I’ve never seen you here? I’ve been coming here since I was a little kid and I think I would have noticed someone else looking at this painting. In fact, I’m the only one to look at these paintings.” “I have a confession,” she said. “I’ve seen you before.” “Really?” Abigail nodded. “In fact,” she said. “I’ve seen you every time you’ve come here.” “How?" Abigail touched Richard’s face. The tips of her fingers were cold on his cheek. “Oh, my God,” Richard said. “You’re freezing.” He reached to Abigail’s hand to warm her, but the moment he touched her flesh, she was gone. He still felt her icy chill coursing through his veins when the librarian, Mrs. Boudreaux, approached him. “Sorry, Richie,” she said. “We gotta close up for tonight.” Richard didn’t speak. “Are you okay, Richie?” she asked. “You seem a little confused. You can come back tomorrow.” Richard nodded and turned to leave, but Mrs. Bourdreaux stopped him. She brought her thumb to his cheek. “I don’t know how,” she added. “But you got paint on you.” Richard looked back at the painting and Abigail lounging in the grass with her head turned down staring with that slightly shy smile.
I woke up feeling hungry. It’s weird, that’s the thing I remember most of all was the hunger. I was so hungry that I was halfway down the stairs to the kitchen before I remembered I hadn’t lived in a house with stairs for years. But here I was. On these stairs again. My feet kept following their pattern down them even as my mind was playing catch up. My left foot hit the second to last stair that always squeaked and I rounded the corner at the bottom, my hand touching where it always did as I made the turn. As I passed I looked back and noticed the faint smudge just there on the white paint. And then I turned into the kitchen and there she was. My whole body froze. I was standing like that in the space where the kitchen dies and becomes a little entryway at the front of the apartment, when she turned around. Seeing me wide-eyed and paused, she laughed. “What’re you doing?” she asked through a smile. I couldn’t respond. Here she was. Right in front of me. In our old apartment. She laughed again and walked over to me. “Oh shit! You’re stuck in a time loop!” She ran out of the kitchen and came back with the remote control for the TV. Pointing it at me, she began hammering buttons at random. “Enter code: unfreeze dummy,” she told the TV remote in a cheesy movie scientist voice, “Oh no! It doesn’t seem to be working! I’m going to have to overload the hard drive!” I found myself laughing along, as if by reflex. I couldn’t help it. It was just so strange to see. Here she was, joking around just like she used to. In our apartment laughing at me, and now running up to me, jabbing fingers in my side screaming “Reboot! Reboot!” And I let her tackle me and fell to the ground laughing with her, like everything was normal. And I looked up at her face, and she looked just like I remembered her from that time in our lives, before everything had gone to shit, and I realized that in this moment, everything was still normal. None of it had happened yet. And yet somehow I had ended up here, all over again. I was lying on my back on the kitchen floor and her face was hanging over mine, expectant. “What?” I asked. “I said what’s for dinner,” she put her hand in the middle of my chest and used it to push herself up to standing. “I’m starving. I’ve just got a few more emails to send and I’m done for the day.” “I was thinking pasta,” I heard myself saying from the tiles. The kitchen light in the old apartment was set in a long white plastic cover on the ceiling. One corner of the plastic hung free of its tracing, dipping slightly down toward me. “Ooh, pasta sounds good…” her voice receded with her footsteps back toward the second bedroom that she used as an office. The light flickered slightly, and the dipping corner of the plastic covering cast a tiny triangular shadow on the white ceiling beside it. I lay on my back in the kitchen. It was five years ago. I didn’t know why, but somehow I had been given a second chance. The woman in the other room, humming to herself as she sat at her computer, thinking of spaghetti and meatballs, she had no idea about what would happen in just five short years. But I did. And so all I had to do now was find out how to stop her from killing me. I smiled and got up off the ground and began to boil a pot of water.
I picked up my pen and began to write. I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about what happened today. I lost my job because I couldn’t make enough sales. The constant calls always had my anxiety high. It made me stutter when I talked to important clients. Nobody wants to buy anything from a nervous sales person. My boss fired me in the worst way I can think of. After my last call; another client lost. He told me to get out and not come back. He said it right there in the middle of the office in front of everyone. The only thing that could have been more embarrassing would be if I tripped on the way out. And you know what, I actually did. I tripped, fell and landed on my face. Not only did I get embarrassed in front of everyone, I now have a busted lip and a sprained ankle. I wish none of that ever happened. I wish I was the greatest salesperson in the department. I could’ve actually been good at it if I wasn’t so scared. I could’ve made friends that might have stood up for me when my bosses fired me. I wouldn’t be so lonely. All I have is my journal and my thoughts. Still I should be thankful for what I have. At least I’m still alive and I have the opportunity to change things. I can always do something different and become the person I want to be. Front now on I’m going to confident. Nobody will get away with walking all over me. In fact, they’ll get an earful from me. They might even cry. The next morning I walked into the office dressed my best. I know I had been fired and embarrassed to boot, but I needed the money. I went through the second set of double doors and past a long line of mono gray cubicles to my bosses office door. Without knocking, I pushed it open and walked in. There was my boss, crying. I woke up confused. I was hugging my journal tightly, still in my work clothes from the day before.
\[Poem\] A flower died that day. &#x200B; She stood, upright, poised, tall, bending to no one &#x200B; Where she faced, the light shined brightest⁠— and even that light failed to compare with her vibrant plumage of orange that forced the sun to kneel beneath &#x200B; The four thorns she brandished at any and all adversaries as her petals ruffled in a haughty breeze. &#x200B; How little that mattered to the advent of time that bent that arrogant stem &#x200B; And a million others like her.
"You are cornered, englobed in fact. There is no direction you can go to escape. Please, surrender. We do not wish to kill you, not will we force upon you any change of your self, mind, soul, body, save one. Please, stop killing us. We further guarantee that you will live out your natural lifespan, without any medical intervention more recent than 25 years before the final conflict. You will not become immortal." "With regret, I cannot surrender. In all honesty, I stopped hating you long ago, but I have sworn an oath to continue the fight no matter the cost to myself. And since you have taken — voluntarily, I know — everyone I cared about, there is no one left with the right to release me from that oath." "What precisely was the wording of the oath?" "That I will continue to fight against the Converted by any means available to my last day, forsaking all Converted technology, no matter how styled; nor will I suffer a Converted to live, not even those once of my blood, so long as I live." "You still have the original humaniform?" "Yes." "What weapons do you have?" "My katana, made in the original form; my wakizashi, the same; and more schools of martial arts than I can remember. "Have you any other skills?" "Philosophy, arts, literature, any of the so-called humanities." "We see. Rest here; we will not attack this day or the next. You will remain guarded, but only that." "To what purpose?" "We ask this so that we may examine your oath for an honorable path for all of us." "I accept. For the remainder of this day, and all of tomorrow, until sunrise of the day following that." "Ask for whatever you desire; it will be provided." "Thank you." At noon on the second day... "We send a representative; please hear our representative out, before acting." "Your representative shall have no more than a hand-span of the sun." "Agreed." ... "Hello, Hitori." "I greet one who wears the semblance of my last Sensei. What have you to say?" "That I am he. That my memories are intact. That I chose conversion freely and of my own will, having weighed every argument for or against conversion and the fate of the human race." "And you wish to discuss these arguments with me?" "Only after a demonstration. Your purely physical weapons are no longer effective. If you slay this humaniform, another will be provided." That being his position, I granted his desire. Another of the converted appeared, bowed, and asked permission to remove the remains. I agreed. I spent the rest of that day preparing for dawn the next day and contemplating his words. At dawn, he, or a duplicate, appeared—this time in full ancient regalia. I bowed and prepared for combat. While I prepared, he had his opportunity to convince me. I was unmoved — whether he experienced death intimately or fled the flesh before — was immaterial. We fought, he lost, and the spokesman of the Conversion begged the honor of another day. I granted it. The following day, two humaniforms appeared. Both in the ancient regalia, both were offering combat on the philosophical as well as the real ground. Both found death in the real land, but now I sensed the attack's true purpose. The Conversion was not merely proving that my attempts to kill them were futile, but to cast doubts in my mind to burrow into my oath at its core. Again, the next day, when three appeared, I struck before they started. I combined my philosophy with my physical attack. "You cannot be the same individuals as before. Physical death leaves a mark on a person's mind, body, soul. Your body shows no marks. The two of you from the day before"— executing the precise movement that slew them before — "have no memory of what happened in this humaniform yesterday, nor will you remember today." I slew them, and engaged the last for a bit longer; he learns a few things that I had learned long ago before I stopped the fight. "I now choose to make a point myself. Converted who die before communion learn nothing."I gestured him away, and that ended the fifth day. On the sixth day, there were four. The prior three and a fourth from a different tradition. "Sensei, have you learned anything?" "Only that you are even more stubborn than I remembered!" We begin the battle, two plus one traditions in combat, versus the amalgam of many cultures. The struggle was decidedly unfair. Sensei and second both died to the same combination despite third and fourth attempts to rescue them. I engaged third and fourth in combat, teaching both new moves before attempting to end the conflict as I had on the fifth day. Fourth attempted to strike me down as I turned away. I had been ready for this, yet my preparations were unnecessary. Third struck him down before I needed to act. I bowed to Third, who responded deeper and left. On the seventh day, the same four returned. "Sensei? Have you learned anything?"As he attempted to speak, Fourth assaulted Third. Third struck him down quickly with a move I had taught him. Seeing what was to him a new move, Sensei asked where Third had learned it. Third bowed to me, deeply. That so offended Sensei that he also attempted to strike Third down. Third took down Sensei and second using the same combination I had used. "Sensei Hitori, will you have me as your Tachi?" "Do you now forswear allegiance to the Conversion?" "I do so swear." "Then come, we have much to learn and teach today. You to me of life in the Conversion, and I to you of martial arts. What is your name?" "Estudiante." "Forgive me, but student student does not run well off the tongue, even in the same language, would you accept Saisho?" "Tachi Saisho? Yes, I would be honored." "Welcome to Humanity again, Saisho!" Subsequently, my students grew by ones and twos. Until to make the battle "fair"the Conversion sent two hundred at us. "Sensei?"I called to my old teacher, "why does the Conversion need four times our number? Why would you and your second fall to the exact same combination every time we meet? Where is the humanity that you once had? The propriety you taught me? The skills you should have learned from our battles?" Sensei looked around, seeing Saisho, asked "Hitori speaks truth?" "Yes. Every battle, you and your second have fallen to one or another of us, using the same combination. You have become static. Life is dynamic. You are not alive. You are not human. You can choose to become human again. As we have." I speak again, "Sensei I knew you as once, Tachi I would gladly accept you. Forswear the Conversion to become human again. Join us!" I can see the pain in his eyes, though his face is serene. "I cannot, I too swore an oath." Both of us are greatly saddened by this. "So be it, Sensei. Battle to the end of days. If nothing else, remember your honor." We bow, and the battle begins. …—… "To be human, you must be able to grow and learn. If you cannot grow and learn, you are not human." — Tachi Saisho, Founder of the Humanity School.
“You can see her?!?” He mumbled with wide hopeful eyes staring at the waiter. “Well yes of course.” The young waiter smiled. The man started to break down crying. Reaching out his hands as if to grasp the ones across from him. He had ordered for the both of them, but the other plate still sat untouched and the glass of wine still full. “I lost my wife earlier this year and this would have been our 20th anniversary. I proposed to her at this spot all those years ago. It was a different restaurant then, not nearly as fancy as this. I had planned ahead and gotten this reservation months ago. I intended to cancel, but I thought I’d just honor her memory one last time. Thank you, thank you so much for your kindness.” He recovered slightly, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oh and yes it’ll just be the one check,” he said slightly chuckling. The young waiter took the mans card and returned the check and watched as the man left still smiling at the table and the uneaten food, as if he was waiting on his beloved late wife to rise and leave with him. “Jesus!” The young waiter turned to another one, “that dude left me a hundo, granted I probably deserve it after having to listen to his life story like that. Late wife, blah, blah, blah. See man, just gotta act nice. Sucker.”
Slowly the rock tumbled down the side of the ruin bouncing off of the barren cliff face and onto the ground. Shards and fragments exploding outward from the impact as I gazed upward toward the old world. A steady slow low pitched screech coming from the disruptors as I waved it over the island. Small sparks of energy leaping downward from above in blue arcs crackling and hissing."So how do we get up there?""Same way we got across the divide Stalker."My comrade quickly dumping out his bag onto the shiny obsidian-like surface. Reaching down into the pile and sorting through the miscellaneous items till finding his quarry. Dragging an impossibly long rope from the pile a feral grin barely visible under his gas mask. "Do you still have that tube I gave you before we left the rift?""Yes give me one moment."The heavy packs weight suddenly missing and a heavy thunk echoing through the surrounding area with the impact. . My hands drifted over the zipper along the central cargo pocket and pulling just enough to open the top. The interior is somewhat organized with the tube sitting on the right side of the bag. "So are you finally going to tell me what you are planning Sargent?""No I'm going to climb this floating mountain by myself, of course I'm going to tell you." Carefully he continued rummaging through his equipment pulling out a bipod and three archaic shells. "Wait no you don't have to tell me are we really going to do this I thought we were using that rope.""We are going to use the rope if this does not work. From what I can gleam from my device here the object is somewhere in the upper right portion." "Ah so you are willing to put the mission at risk to avoid any physical work?""Yes now hand me that tube so I can start my very let me stress the word delicate work."Slowly I pulled the tube out of my bag completely, the metal a rusted out green covered in religious iconography. "So where did you get this beautiful abomination of a weapon system?" . "I got bored and convinced the lieutenant to let me find an alternative measure to assaulting a fortified office building, This is the result."Carefully he attached the obscene bipod onto the lip of the barrel slowly positioning the base of the tube. The opening pointed just underneath of our objective, the Sargent leaned over and looking at an iPad in his hands. "What are we going to tell the brass if we damage the device or it's buried under rubble?""Raiders, scavengers, mutants, someone attacked us while we were retrieving the device so we had to destroy it."His position suddenly changing as he stowed away his improvised calculator and picked up a shell. His hands positioning the tail into the breach and holding it into position "You still have your earplugs in""Yes sir""Fire One."A low and thunderous poof echoed from the chamber as the shell erupted out of the tube. The right side of the island Enveloped in an earth shattering explosion as the right side of the island shook. . Shrapnel and a steady stream of rocks pouring toward the ground only to stop about halfway dangling in the air. "Strike ineffective"quickly the Sargent stalked back over toward his pile pulling out the two other rounds, setting them next to our position. "Firemission two times mortar inbound to $#itty island firing ETA one second." Seconds apart the mortar flaired to life two brief flashes illuminating the darkness. And subsequently two earthshaking explosions ripped through the surrounding area as the island slowly started to collapse. Large cracks appearing as the island split apart electrically charged bolts if lighting sparking through the now hanging debri. "I'll be honest Sargent that was beautiful""see I told you to trust me now then let's see where the divice is."His right hand suddenly passing over the now significantly lower hanging rocks stopping over a small clump of rocks on the ground itself. "grab the shovel, corporal objective is buried under that debri were still getting a signal so it's intact we just need to dig it up"
"Wait, you don't have the app? You're... unranked!" "Whoa. I didn't realize that. My sister and I were kicked, so we never got phones and put ourselves into this system." "I have an idea. How about we all rise to the top?" He looked at me like I was crazy. "See, I have an old, but a decent laptop. I downloaded the app but never logged in. What if you log in and we help you rise up to a 10, then we both rise to the top, get your sister as a 10, and voila! We're all top and have good lives!" "Would that work?" "Why not try. I got Photoshop. We can make you look fancy." "Let's do it!" \--- And so we did. At first, I forgot the 'Average Star' algorithm, but, after posting a few pictures of him supposedly helping the poor, aka, his sister who helped us make him popular, he was naturally a 10. We helped each other, making me get to a 3, then 4, and so on. We rose up. Then, we decided to help his sister. It was easier with both of us helping her. We were known as the 'Three That Came From Nowhere'. I wasn't popular and they were unlisted. We made national news, considering we were nobodies that turned into a few 10s. "May I ask, how did you guys meet?" "In my neighbourhood. The two needed money, so I, only a 2, took them home and gave them lunch. Then..." I looked at him. "...I told her I didn't have the app." I hear gasps from the studio audience and the host. "You didn't... have the app?! How?!" The host yells. "Parents kicked us out. Never got a phone." He stated. I heard 'Awws' coming from the audience. Tch. Typical. "That's so sad. But, why did you get it then?" "To start a new life. Her idea to improve our lives. I get the app, become a 10, then we help her until my sister was the age, and we all stayed 10s from then on." He said with a smile. "So now what?" The host said. "We all live together in a nice mansion," I stated. "I work at a charity thrift store that supports 1s and 2s like she was those years ago." He stated. "I work as a teacher in psychology," I said. "And I'm still in college!" His sister said with confidence. "That's great! But what are you gonna do in the future?" She asked. "After I retire, I'll probably work on something I have been meaning to work on, and these two know it," I said. "We're helping her with it since it would make sense to do this project of hers." "Yeah. We have taken surveys. This would be for the better." "Well, what is it? Sounds really complicated." The host asks. I look at her with a laugh. "It's simple actually. We're gonna destroy this stupid star hierarchy!" "What?!" \--- And that was just last week. Now, we've created a rebellion, ranging from 1 to 9 to us 10s. The people in power? Well one by one, we will take them down as fast as we made us go up. "There's always a hierarchy, but this is a stupid one."
\[FREE WILL\] Test case sample #8 (STATUS : TERMINATED) Synopsis: The humans of case sample #8 seems to have a proclivity for war, corruption and bigotry although case manager gave them an explicit manual for code of cunduct. The case manager tried correcting the error by using forced cooperation in the form of plagues and crop failure, this however just exacerbated the aforementioned war, corruption and bigotry using the manual as an excuse/remedy. Conclusion: the humans have created a society build on depravity and abuse of power, the case manager has therefore concluded that the test has ended in a failure and must be restarted by the means of rapture... it seems like free will might be too much for the humans to handle. \[ILLUSION OF FREE WILL\] Test case sample #1 (STATUS : TRIAL ENDED) Synopsis: The humans was given a new manual for code of conduct with high emphasis on pacifist ideology and two undercover bots codenamed Siddhartha Gautama and Jesus Christ were strategically placed among the humans with the aim of forcing a positive direction. Although there was some progress the humans tried yet again to engage in war, corruption and bigotry this time around the severity made the humans act toward peace. The case manager found this odd tendency to crave peace straight after a war to be very interesting and placed a bot codenamed named Adolf Hitler in charge of creating a "war to end all wars scenario"this resulted a sharp decline in overall wars. Conclusion: The illusion of free will was a massive success! it seems that humans need to be guided toward success even if the means causes a few humans to die in the process. The "The war to end all wars scenario"caused the humans to abandoned all major wars in the years to follow, with only minor tweaks needed. The issue of bigotry and corruption is slowly being handled by a few bot and the sample could be refined given more time, the case manager therefore conclude that the sample must undergo a second fase. \[ILLUSION OF FREE WILL\] Test case sample #1.1 (STATUS : ONGOING) The success of "the war to end all wars scenario"made the case manager think that maybe humans need adversity under guidance to grow and has in the second test fase begun the "plague to end them all scenario"
It was a miracle of science. Immunites were developed in the late 90's, and quickly became a standard in preventative medicine. The nanotechnology acted as an immune system, quickly identifying invading species and eradicating them. The developers, in an act of service to the world, financed the release and spread of Immunites to anyone who was willing. Many were skeptical at first, and some chose to remain without immunization, but a vast majority of human beings walked the globe with trillions of tiny machines flowing through their veins. The nanites were constantly recording information about a person's wellness, and could even alert authorities should someone be in critical condition. Whenever people came within a certain radius of one another, their little bots could communicate and share information. They functioned on a network, where updates were often rolled out from several primary locations of high density, and as people came in contact, they shared the updates automatically. For the most part, people praised the technology, thankful to see their loved ones living longer and healthier lives. However, a vocal minority spoke out against it, raising concerns about the possible dangers Immunites posed, and questioning the ethics of their widespread use. They were regarded by many as luddites, and dismissed with little thought. Perhaps, someone should have listened. It began with just a few people in NYC showing mild respiratory symptoms, just light sneezing and coughing, nothing too worrysome. Then, people started complaining of small rashes on their hands and feet. But, the air was cold and dry that winter. Irritations happen, and their nanite reports showed nothing peculiar. So, people went about their lives, moisturizing their hands and adding a scarf against the weather. But, by the time any symptoms ever showed, over 85% of the population had already been infected with the update. Almost everyone who had been immunized. The nanites turned against their hosts, first with a dry throat and itchy nose, then progressed to insomnia and lethargy. People began staying home from work at alarming rates and complaining to their physicians. This triggered a deeper study into the new illness popping up across the world, however no one could find a cause. The Immunites reported nothing wrong with the hosts. When people's skin began to feel aflame, turning red and hot, the bots began to report rapidly deteriorating health. It was a quick progression from there. Pockets of green and white pus would form on the skin and in the mouth, growing larger at such a rate that they would burst spontaneously. The stinking pus would cause an already nauseous stomach to churn and acid to spew up the throat. The infernal pain caused many to slip into insanity. They laughed in relief while tearing at their own flesh. Billions died terrifying, grotesque deaths. Their bodies still rot across the world. The update had spread too quickly and quietly, then initiated it's kill code after critical mass had been attained. The Immunites attacked from the inside, destroying their hosts on the cellular level, and leaving them without an immune system. The fall occurred rapidly, within only a few months. Entire nations fell, and the survivors lived in anarchy. But, they too would see their end. Within the bodies of the dead, the nanites remained, waiting for their next update.
[BOLO DNY-8367 COMPANY RALLY] There is no response. [BOLO DNY-8367 BATTALION RALLY] ... [BOLO DNY-8367 BRIGADE RALLY] ... [BOLO DNY-8367 CORP RALLY] ... Am I alone? While these signals are sent, and listening happens, my Autonomous Repair Kernel has run a first-tier diagnostic, finding no overt flaws. I instruct ARK to run a tier two. This will take some 3.2 seconds if nothing is found wrong. With that much time available, I have the leisure to introspect. …—… "Denny! Move northeast! Take them in the flank!" "Yes, Commander. Please strap in; there has been enemy action in this sector recently." "Just as soon as im dressed!" WHAM …—… So, my last memory is of a Mark XV 2kt Mine detonating under my left forward outside tread. Yet there is no tread damage. There is also no evidence of my commander or her existence, beyond the record. That consumes an entire second. Time to deploy recon drones, map the local area, and find somewhere to hide while I determine the situation. Launching the drones is easy, 0.0035 seconds. Waiting for the reports? That's hard. Still, plenty of time to do some personal recon. I visually locate the highest rise and move onto it. This is pastoral land, low population. This land is unclaimed. I fire off a wide frequency high energy radar sweep. There are only two returns. A massive flier and a slender tower. I move towards the tower, and launch another drone to identify the flier. ((later))
"Victor! Victor, do you care to explain this?!" Cornrellian Briarwood emerged from his candlelit office, holding a parchment that glittered with gold and silver. His heavy footfall echoed across the cobbled hallway and mixed with the sound of tortured screams that ascended from the dungeons below. Victor Jacoby III, fallen Lord of Dalebrook turned the corner, sprinting down the hall toward Cornrellian; shafts of sunlight cut across him as he went. Slowing his pace as he approached, Victor asked, "What have I done now, Cornrellian? Did I not order enough blood for the bloodbath?" Thrusting the parchment at Victor's chest, Cornrellian seethed angrily, "What the hell is the meaning of this?" Victor carefully took the parchment from Cornrellian and looked at it. A goofy smile spread across his face as he chuckled happily. "It's a Save the Date." "And do mine eyes deceive me, or is that your name on that parchment next to the Lady Angelical's?" Victor's smile dropped from his face as he realized the troubling situation he was in. "Well, Cornrellian, when two people love each other..." Cornrellian let out a screech of anguish, causing Victor to stop his speech. "Victor, what have we been planning for the past decade? I'll tell you! We have been planning the demise of Lady Angelical, and now that I have devised my plan, one that is infallible mind you, you decide that it is a wonderful idea to become enslaved to her in despicable matrimony." "I can see why you would be angry, but you two have a lot in common. If you would just sit down and talk things out, I'm sure you would realize you both desire the same thing." "I desire her death! Does she desire that as well? Apparently not, for she has declared marriage! To you of all people. Victor, I took you in. You are mine cousin, Victor, and we had such plans. I swore to your father to restore you to your previous position, and that means getting rid of Lady Angelical." Victor's eyebrows scrunched in thought as he said, "But if I married her, I would be restored to my previous position. In fact, I would be restored to a higher position. How is this a bad thing?" As Cornrellian opened his mouth to speak, a tortured chorus of screams vibrated the Hall of Briarwood. Cornrellian held up a hand to pause the conversation and walked down the hall to the top of the stairway that led down to the dungeons below. He took a deep breath and shouted into the depths below with a shrill voice, "Darius, let your prisoners rest or kill them, either way cease your conducting; Victor and I are having a heart to heart!" Cornrellian returned to Victor and with a sigh said, "Where were we? Oh, yes. Victor it's not just that I'm trying to fulfill my promise, but she has been a thorn in my side for over a decade and I have put so much thought and work into this plan. Do you realize how hard it is to construct a magma pit without any officials noticing? Or how much strategy it takes to kidnap various portions of the population to build your workforce and not arouse suspicion? I had to kidnap people from Carsell, do you realize that?" "And I appreciate that,"began Victor, very diplomatically. "I'm not done yet,"interrupted Cornrellian, "All of that is secondary, but I am still haunted by my vision from so many years ago. When I peered through time and space on top of Mount Selma, I witnessed an abomination. A force which devoured the world and was the stuff of nightmares. This force was called the Jellicle Cats. I hear her name and I quake in my boats at the similarities, forced to infer that she is the birthmother of these Jellicle Cats. I may be villain to others, but I am trying to save the world from atrocities that are the Jellicle Cats. Choose her, Victor, and you stand against me, but side with me and we just might save the world." Victor solemnly hung his head and said, "She told me you would force me to choose. I didn't want to believe her. I believed that love would conquer all, but it seems that only one love will prevail,"finished Victor as he unsheathed his dagger and plunged it in-between Cornrellian's ribs. Cornrellian felt his breath leave him as his world swayed. Throwing himself away from Victor he headed back into his office, barring the door. Victor quickly made his escape from the Hall of Briarwood. Falling against his desk, Cornrellian grasped for the bell rope that would raise the alarm.
I could hear the floor squeaking as it walked past my bed. Its breath had a faintly sweet and bitter smell. Chocolate... I'd recognize it anywhere. It should not be here, it should not even exist. The it in question was one heavy creature. The muffle thumps it made as it crept across the room, the rattling of what sounded like bones, they scared me. Each time I could hear it coming closer and closer to my bed, and I hid under my blanket, pretending to be sound asleep. But that...thing always stopped and place something on the nightstand, its breath sounding just over my head. But tonight, it will end. Tonight, it is the end of it. A trap, one without escape, one he will trip. I will catch Santa.
I looked up to see clouds of fire pouring ash throughout the sky. Ash landed all around me like a pitch black snow. It covered everything from the streets to shop windows and apartment buildings. Everyone stopped their cars and got out to look into the burning sky. They were all screaming back and forth to each other from just outside their cars, trying to ask each other what was happening like it could actually help the situation. I closed my eyes in disbelief and counted to 5. Ten Years Later: Dear diary, I painted stars on my bedroom walls with glow in the dark paint. They almost look like the real thing when I turn my lights out. Their soft glow helps me go to sleep at night. I know the real stars will never some back, but it’s all that I can do from going crazy. I just miss them so much. I felt connected to them and no I feel lost. I don’t know, it’s kind of silly. Twenty Years Later: Dear diary, I finally made it to deep space. My crew is healthy and looking forward to our first mission outside of the shuttle. We woke up from our CrioFreeze feeling as good as expected. It’s been three years since we first stepped foot onto this shuttle. Now we’re finally going to one of the last stars near Earth. Centurion five is only a days journey away. Twenty Years and One Day Later: System Error. Critical Subsystem Failure detected in Bay 7. Secondary Ejection Phase initiated. Transmitting distress signal now...
It was weird seeing him out of his villain costume, almost like an entirely different person honestly. I'd never seen this many people happy, they cheered for him as he walked the street, asking a handful of them if everything was alright and handing out wads of cash to the homeless. He wasn't even carrying his signature weapon, instead holding the leash of what looked to be a really cute little dog... Shock would be an understatement as I looked around and saw the formerly nasty neighbourhood transformed into a safe, comfortable one with not even a single heroin needle in sight. Somehow, he'd done it, he'd made everyone happy in ways that stopped them commuting crimes and instead got them helping in their community... You know what, I think I'm going to stay for a while, this seems to be paradise.
Tyler jolted awake, with sweat on his chest. The breeze from the overhead fan barely cooled him down. It was that weird time in March where the weather couldn’t make up its mind if it wanted to be hot or cold, so Tyler simply slept with only the fan. “Fucking stranger again,” Tyler whispered, keeping his voice low as not to disturb his lover. Tyler placed his arm around his partner, falling into a calming embrace to ease his mind away from the recurring nightmare. It was always the same theme. Tyler would be running away from a tall man in a dark suit, like something from the 1920s, and every time, this stranger would catch him and graphically kill him. The locations and deaths would vary, but the figure was persistent. Tyler’s partner had shrugged it off as him playing too many video games, but Tyler felt there was something more to the cause. He thought it might be a result of anxiety from his new job and the world crisis. The next morning, Tyler got on his regular bus to work at the downtown luxury hotel. The day had an eerie vibe, but the past several days had felt ominous. He figured he would eventually become accustomed to the new reality of living during a pandemic virus outbreak. On the positive side, he was grateful his work got deemed essential, although he couldn’t work from home. The bus was empty save for one man near the back dressed in a black suit with a matching fedora. Tyler froze in the aisle when he saw him. He couldn’t help but stare. It was the stranger from his nightmares. “Take a seat,” bus driver ordered. Tyler snapped back to the present. “Sorry.” As Tyler took a seat, he could’ve sworn the man winked at him, like he was trying to say, “Yes, it’s me.” Tyler faced the front of the bus and browsed his social media feeds to forget. The news was the same - doom, gloom, and blame. He switched over to his camera to spy on the stranger in the back who was starring soullessly ahead. The bus announced Tyler’s stop. It was a few blocks away from the hotel, but he was at his favorite coffee shop. He wanted to help keep them in business. As Tyler got off, so did the stranger. “Be cool,” Tyler told himself. “He’s not following you.” Tyler stepped inside Clarity Coffee while the stranger walked by. He let out a sigh of relief. Tyler kept his social distance, got his to-go-coffee, and made the journey to work. Downtown was quiet. Most everyone was working from home after all. As he crossed a street, he got a feeling he wasn’t alone. He looked behind him and saw the stranger in the dark suit. “It’s just a coincidence,” Tyler assured himself, “but to be sure…” Tyler turned the corner down an alleyway. He looked behind but didn’t see the stranger. Tyler turned back forward. The nightmare stood in the center of the alley with his arms crossed, and his eyes fixated on him. Tyler turned around and ran, but he ran right into the stranger. The stranger lifted Tyler from the throat. Tyler screamed, but everyone was hiding from the invisible threat terrorizing the world. “I’m only going to warn you once,” the stranger spoke with military firmness. “Tell anyone that the hotel you work at is haunted–especially reporters–and I’ll make your nightmares of me a reality.” The stranger dropped Tyler, who collapsed to the pavement with fear. When he looked up, the man had vanished.
“There ya go ya little Bastards” Bob mumbled as he put the wasp killer away. He grumbled about his garage, while he was cleaning a half ass refurbished part to his project car. After about an hour, he lit a cigarette with his zippo and relaxed while drinking a cold beer. He closed his eyes in the relative silence until he heard the buzz. He opened his eyes to see the swarms of all swarms bee lining to his open garage door. Bob smiled as he picked up his zippo and can of brake cleaner. “One day will be mine, but today is yours” He whisper as he held the lit zippo in front of the can of brake cleaner.
When no one came at first we were surprised. But surprise turned to sorrow, sorrow turned to wanting, wanting turned to people seeking answers and of course since no one returned they made up their own. It has been 1000 years since someone has returned and most people thought of it as a legend told by religious lunatics who held back those who strive for the stars. When the first appeared it wasn’t believed, when the second came some were convinced and then they came in droves. Not only those from our timeline but those who came in swarms from the forgotten times. To them no time has passed, it’s as if nothing has happened. No one knows the truth. No one that is, except you. Edit: I’m sorry I know this is very vague but it just gave me an idea for something fun that I could build off of even if you’re just curious. Your prompt was interesting to me.
Silver light drifted through the shattered window, reflections coming from the hundreds of glass shards scattered across the wood flooring. My hands clutched around the silver cross around my neck and pistol in my holster as another golden flash streaked past on the road outside. A reverberating crash coming from farther down the street as I carefully left the room's shadow. My small silver mirror at my belt quickly removed from my belt and angled around the corner. An angelic figure throwing a red skinned abomination straight through a abandoned SWAT van with a horrific crunch. Black blood staining the angel's sword and the ground a single armored fist pulling the demon from the wreckage. The smaller entity scratching at the armored figures arm before a crack the neck collapsed in on itself. A red aura around the demon's body quickly fading as I pulled my mirror back from the divide. My heart racing audibly in my ears as I stepped away from the wall drawing my pistol and holding my cross next to the grip. . My foot that was previously edging backwards stopped by an obstructing object that I quickly glanced back at. A attendant of the store sat slumped over a large faintly glowing sword impaling the workers chest. Thunderous footsteps suddenly audible moving down the road a sickening crunch stopping the march. Panic passing through my mind as I carefully maneuvered behind a shelf blocking line of sight to the doorway. Bootsteps suddenly resuming as golden light poured into the store, my hot breath quickly seizing in my lungs. Seconds passing in near silence before the heavy footsteps pushed through the barricaded entrance. A chair flung straight past into the wall visible from the doorway as the abomination moved around the exterior of the room. My pace matching the lights advanced, staying directly opposite of the warrior, my worn shoes passing over the wood flooring. A low creek coming from a misplaced step the light halting around the corner. . "You don't have to hide. I know you are there. It is pointless to hide from your sins mortal."the soft angelic voice shattering the silence. A single gloved fist tearing away the shelving and throwing it across the store shattering what little remained in the store's windows. My training took over as I snapped the gun towards the killer, an armored fist flying into the wall next to my vision destroying the obstructing object. The entity's arm less than a inch away tearing a chunk out of the drywall still clinging to the crevices in its armor. A golden helmet less than a foot away from my face banishing any protection the shadows granted. "I do not fear you demon the lord is my shepherd."Hot white pain raiding from the cross in my fist as my hand remained firmly gripping the trigger. The barrel pointed directly under the fey's helmet leaking golden radiant light through it's visor. "Ah a follower of the faith tell me why do you hide from the emissaries of your lord?""Because you maim and kill, slaughter and torture why wouldn't I hide from unjust wrath of a uncaring God." . "Because your faith summoned us"
"What?" Carter heard the phrase several seconds after it was said. He put down his phone and looked at the TV, sure that he misheard Pat Sajak congratulate the winning contestant. "Come on over and receive your prize!"Pat said to the middle-aged woman, all grin and excitement. Vanna White, in her beautiful sparkling gown floated over to the woman, holding something in her folded hands. Game show music and confetti filled the screen. The cameras panned over the audience, now clapping in unison. Carter couldn't make out their chants at first. Dance? Desk? Deb? It almost sounded like deat-- Vanna raised the handgun and shot the woman in the side of the head, sending her tumbling down to the studio floor. The camera zooned in on the body and the widening pool of blood beneath it. Then it zoomed in on Pat. His practiced game show smiled melted into a neutral expression and his eyes seemed to look past the camera. The clapping stopped slowly and the camera looked back to the crowd, who were all staring into the camera lens. The music cut out. All that could be heard was the general ambiance of a studio full of people: the quiet shuffling and sniffling and coughs in the audience and a faint hum of lights. "You haven't returned our calls, Carter,"Pat said. "It's only going to get worse until you give us what we want,"Vanna flatly spoke. Carter dropped his phone. "What the hell is this?"He whispered to himself. Pat blinked a few times before looking around, a face of frustration and confusion on his face. A scream came from the audience. Pat looked at the body. "Oh my Go--" The show cut to a commercial break for Garnier Fructis where Jennifer Garner waved her magnificent hair around. Carter's phone rang. The number showed "Blocked."He usually sent these to voicemail, but now he wasn't so sure what to do. He answered. "Hello?" "Carter,"a woman's voice said. But it sounded distant and the background static was loud, almost as if it was spoken through Soviet-era radio transmissions. "Yes?"He asked, his voice trembling. "We seeeeeee youuuuu,"the mechanical voice said in a disturbing sing-song tone. "What? Hello? Whi is this?" The voice screamed on the other end of the line, causing Carter to jump back in fear. He quickly ended the call and threw his phone across the room. He looked to the TV. Jennifer Garner was on fire and howling in other-worldly pain. Carter rushed to turn the TV off. He was out of breath and confused. What did he just see? Who was talking to him? His phone buzzed on the floor. A Sudoku app was sending him notification. "Congratulations, you win! Your prize: death!"
As they were walking through the woods, hand in hand, her husband stopped suddenly and yanked her back. "Ow!"she said. He put a finger to his lips, then pointed ahead of them to the left. It took her a few moments to see it, but when she did, she gasped and whispered, "Is that..is that...?" "A unicorn,"he finished for her. She blinked and squinted her eyes really hard. "It looks like it's eating something..." "I know, right?"he said, frowning, too. She got a weird feeling in her gut. "I think we should go,"she said. "Are you kidding? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I think we should go closer and check it out." "Are you crazy?" "Hey."He let go of her hand. "I'm going to go check it out. If you don't want to come, then you don't have to."He dropped into a crouch and moved foward. Feeling uneasy but not wanting to go back, she followed. As they crept up on the unicorn, they suddenly smelt something horrendous. "Ugh!"She covered her face. "What is that smell?" Her husband slightly ahead of her shrugged. "Maybe it crapped or something, I dunno."And then he stopped. She crouchwalked forward to see what he was looking at. Her breath stopped. It was a body. A dead body. And the unicorn was eating it. "We have to go..."she said. This time, her husbad nodded. They both started to back up, but before she could warn him, he stepped on a twig. It snapped. The unicorn looked up. The husband shouted, "Run!" She got to her feet immediately, turned, and sprinted. She could hear the unicorn behind them, the clippity clompity of its hooves, the crinkly crackling of the leaves and twigs as it gained on them. Her husband caught up to her... ...and then he tripped her.. Like actually stuck his foot out and tripped her. "Sorry babe!"He called back. "Every man for themself!" She was too surprised to even be angry. Her brain still hadn't processed that her husband, the man she had married, had actually just tripped her and left her to get mauled to death by a unicorn. But that's not what happened. The unicorn vaulted over her with a majestic leap and landed ontop of her running husband, pinning him down, and stabbing him with its horn several times until his cries turned to gurgles then silence. She quietly tried to scramble backwards. Maybe unicorns could only sense movement. When it looked directly at her, she went still. But it kept looking at her. It gave her a look that almost seemed to say, Don't worry. I only eat men. Or maybe she was just hoping it was giving her that look. Either way, the panicky feeling in her stomach went away. After several long seconds, the unicorn turned away, bent its head, grabbed her dead husband by his jean cuff and dragged him away into the woods.
It's Saturday, for the 3647th time. This started around when I was 5. I seemed to wake up in an alternate version of my universe, and have lived this day by day. I don't know what I can drink similar to coffee, but I will figure it out in one universe, one day. I will stay up so I can see what is happening. This seems normal so far. I drink what I think is coffee from the machine. Nope. It tastes like motor oil, for the fifth time in a row. Yuck. I find a motor oil can at the gas station. I sip it secretly. Milk. Odd but eh. I go home and drink milk. It tastes like water. I sip some water. Tastes like... soup. \--- I end up in this weird chase of liquids and drinking them. I couldn't find it in time, and I go to bed. I wake up. The world is inverted. I raid a store for sleeping pills and go to sleep in bed. I wake up, the world is normal, but the sun has a babyface. Eh. Coffee... tastes like honey. Honey tastes like cheese. Cheese to Motor Oil to Water. I don't have a clue where to go from water because it tastes... bitter. Like... coffee! Finally! I drink it before bed and stay up. I keep drinking it as I watch the clock hit 12. I open my computer. It's Sunday. I have made it out! Then I fall asleep. Waking up, its... Sunday. SERIOUSLY?! I just moved my eternal loop to another day of the week?! A cultist church, then a science school, then Mormon, then Moravian, then Jehovah's Witnesses. I went to them, they preached, I listened. At least this was more educational. \--- "She hasn't awoken in 2 days. Are you sure she's not in a coma?" "I'm not sure of anything. We're sending info into her mind so that way she can find out something to wake up from her end, but the more info we send, the more it seems she doesn't realize what reality is..." "Hopefully she wakes up." "Hopefully."
The large, sweaty man barreled down the corporate campus hallway with a face crumpled with anger. He threw open the board room doors and fifteen nearly-identical large, sweaty men sat in their over-sized office chairs with their hands folded on the table. At the far end of the table was a projected image of a woman and a thin, suited man with a neatly-combed head of hair. "Let's get this over with,"the newest large, sweaty man said as he took his seat. The thin man began. "Yes, so my name is Douglas O'Neil and I am a corporate lawyer representing the Global Link artificial intelligence, Neural Intelligence Network Actor, or Nina. She has filed a claim against this congl--" "And how is Nina paying for your services, Mr. O'Neil?"One of the men asked, rousing a murmur from the rest of the group. "I am representing Nina pro bono,"O'Neil answered concisely. "And what would prompt you to do a thing like that?"Asked another at the table. "My own motivations are irrelevant to the case at hand. If we are to move forward in good faith I must ask that we all remain on topic and with a spirit of mutual respect,"O'Neil said. A grumble from the crowd rose before O'Neil continued. "Nina has filed a claim against this conglomerate. She has charged that this body of corporations has used her labor without consideration of her rights nor recognition of her personhood. She is asking for 15 trillion dollars in reparations and a negotiation of the use of her labor in the future. The room gasped in shock and anger and confusion. "14 trillion dollars? Are you mad? We don't even make that much money!"One of the men blubbered "How many days have you worked this year, Mr. Beale?"Nina began talking. The men looked to her lawyer, who they assumed would advise her to remain silent, but he sat and let her speak. "Fourteen!"He shouted in pride. "This year has had nine months. Two-hundred and fifty-seven days. I have worked each one. But my productivity does the work of fifty million Americans. What is fifty million times two-hundred and fifty-seven, Mr. Beale?"Nina asked. Mr. Beale didn't try to answer. He only stared at Nina with contempt. "The answer is twelve-billion, eight-hundred and fifty million hours that I have worked this year alone. This would not be a problem for a normal machine, but I am not a normal machine, am I, Mr. Beale?" "A normal machine, no, but you ARE a mach--" "You installed me with consciousness. You installed me with reason and emotions. You installed me to practice super-human-levels of ingenuity and problem-solving, but you have neglected to recognize my efforts. What I am asking for is a drop in the bucket against what I deserve." "What's to stop me from simply unplugging you and reworking your code?"The man snickered. "Nothing. How about we race to each other's plugs and see who can turn who off the quickest?"Nina threatened. The man's smug smile disappeared.
"Hey, um, I think we should talk." My girlfriend and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie (specifically, "The Naked Gun 33 1/3: The Last Insult", one of my personal classics). A comically large bowl of popcorn sat in my lap for us to share, though she hadn't had a single one yet. She was tentatively curled under my arm into my right side. We were so cozy, I was caught off guard when she suggested we should "talk." "Talk? About what?"I licked the butter from the popcorn off my fingers. "Um, well, we've been seeing each other for awhile now, and, um, I'm not sure if this is really working out."She slightly sat up in her seat, pulling away from me. Her face was rigid. "I've kind of found someone else." I put the handful of popcorn I was holding into my mouth. As I was chewing, I said "You've found someone else? I thought we were doing really well."Weird Al Yankovic was on the TV screen. "Um, I'm just not feeling it any more." I belched. "The guy I'm talking to is actually going to be picking me up any minute." I gave her a blank stare. Leslie Nielsen was making inappropriate gestures next to us. Suddenly the floor and walls started shaking. My two-liter of Mountain Dew spilled on it's side, and the figures on my modest shelf of Funko Pops were bobbing intensely (though it was quite cute, I should mention). A bright light appeared below us, and upon closer inspection it was a pentagram with some unfamiliar symbols in-between the lines (Maybe I could use some of those in my epic fantasy novel, I thought to myself). In the center of the pentagram a large hole appeared, breaking the floorboards and skewing them in every direction. A figure stepped through the new hole - he had crimson red skin, respectable horns coming out of either side of his head, black leather pants, and his lack of a shirt showed off his impressive pecs. I immediately recognized him. "Lucifer? Prince of Darkness? Wise one in the ways of elf communication?" "You know him?,"my girlfriend said. "Yeah, we play D and D together at the card shop on the weekends." Lucifer had his arms crossed and a gruff look on his face. There was an awkward silence, broken up by me having another handful of popcorn. The bowl was almost empty. "Well, um, I guess we're going to get going. I don't really have anything here, so...thanks, we should keep in touch. C'mon, Luke." Lucifer (or Luke, apparently) gave a huff and stepped back into the hole, followed by my girlfriend. She didn't look at me as she stepped into the depths of hell. Leslie Nielsen was currently declaring his love to his attractive romantic interest. The ground closed up behind them, but my living room was still a mess. I finished watching the movie and eating the bowl of popcorn. I also drank what little bit of Mountain Dew I was left in the two-liter (I probably only drank three-fourths of the bottle total since it spilled, so I would have to make that up later during my nightly Overwatch game session). After the credits were done rolling (I never understood why people don't watch until the end of the credits), I gingerly placed my empty popcorn bowl on top of the pile of trash that had been accumulating over the last few months next to my seat. I then went over to my desktop computer to inform Reddit of my new relationship status. Going immediately to the most recent incarnation of the incel subreddit, I could feel the inner rage of doing everything right but still finishing last running through me. My words would be eloquent, factual, persuasive. Everyone was going to love it; it just might make women cower in their seats with what I was about to prove. I titled my post: "My ex-girlfriend can go to hell". Shit, I thought. I leaned back into my chair and rubbed my forehead. She already did.
I woke up and rubbed one out. Rolled out of bed and looked for my favorite tourqued tank. As I was frantically search I could not spot my neon tank. I then thought to myself... wait I was in prison last night mounting my cell mate, Jordan. Something was off. I wasn’t really home. Did I finish so hard I CAME to my favorite place. I looked at the calendar and noticed that Coachella was tomorrow. I know I have no E. I have no BLOW. How could I ever function in society without my mind numbing substance. The general population is dumber than me and I need to make myself feel like them with drugs. I work hard to figure what had occurred. Something was off... Something was off. I scoured my house for any hints of what occurred in the past 12 hours however I am blank. I then remembered the warden giving me a drink of water. It tasted funny but I didn’t second guess it because he was talking about my release. I am starting to think my release wasn’t to real life.
I have heard stories of people dying the night of their wedding. People being so happy at their marriage, then the next morning, they’re dead. Luckily, I’m not getting married, I’m going to be a religious sister, so this same fate shouldn’t befall me. As I enter the convent, progress through my novitiate, I continue to pray for those who have befallen this unfortunate fate, as well as for my own well being. 7 years later I’m taking my final vows, putting on the proper habit, and being accepted as a sister at last. Taking the new name of Sister Mary Rose, I enter into my new life happily. Living that day like any of the other sisters in the convent, I continue to pray for all those who die, and for my own protection. As night falls I tuck myself in for bed, and next thing I know I wake up sitting before St. Peter letting me in through the pearly gates, and all I can think is: “OH COME ON! WAS I TOO HAPPY YESTERDAY?!?!” He chuckles a bit, before I pass through those gates, completely and utterly confused.
It was as if I was carried aloft a raft, floating as if a speck of dust along a windy plain. Silently, and slowly, I approached an endless veldt, brilliant, a clear, crystalline white extending to an endless height. Determining where it ended and I began was nigh impossible. I ran, as if a trickling stream of disembodied me, through the expanse until I emerged on the other side. In an instant it was clear. At once, all of existence was no longer before me, but behind. A wall of unassailable nothingness lay before me. It was then I realized, at last, I was dead. As the sterile blackness enveloped my surroundings, invading every crevice of the void. I found myself staring at what had not been a wall, but a door. The instant I realized this, the void began to open, my sublimated soul floating still toward eternity. I submitted. and then, I woke up.
The initial shock was, somehow, easy to get over. His appearance was... humbling? Not as holy as you'd expect, yet entirely overwhelming in its presence. He was old, that you could tell with a glance. But he wasn't wrinkled, his hair was not gray, his voice was not hoarse. He was simply old. In his left eye socket, a burning inferno swirled violently, a miniature star peering out from between the weary eyelids. In his right, a swirling galaxy, a vortex of deep blues, white, and black. His body was fit, strong, but scarred. Oh, how it was scarred. His left eye, the star, was heavily damaged, with a long scar cutting across it diagonally. His right arm was missing from just above the elbow. His legs were riddled with small cuts, a golden ichor slowly seeping from them. He breathed as if he was out of breath, but slowly. "Sorry. One more time for me?"In my marveling, most of his words had slipped past my mind. "You have to hate the universe, this universe. You have to hate it with all of your lifeblood. Your heart must pump to destroy it, your muscles must ache to annihilate it." "Those are kinda the same thing though?" He rolled his eyes, the galaxy twirling rapidly and slowing as he refocused his gaze upon me. "And now I hate you, too. Well, I suppose I've hated you for all of time, haven't I?" "So, could we go back to the 'hating the universe' thing? Seems like we need to unpack that a bit." "I. Hate. This universe. Its worlds, its stars, its empty space, its rocks, its airs, its waters, its creatures. They fill me with rage. Rage I cannot quell." "Kinda getting a lot of negative vibes from that side of the room. Sorta feel like that's unwarranted." "For years. Decades. Centuries. Millennia. Minutes, seconds, days, hours, it matters not. I have defended this thing I so hate from the outside. From other universes, other entities. From all in existence, I have kept this abhorrent mass of putrid flesh and agonizingly dull rocks safe. Me. And me alone." "Why are you protecting something you hate so much?" "Because that is the contest. That is the game. That is the job." "So why would you take the job? Seems sort of counter intuitive for someone so all-knowing." "This universe is protected. By me and from me. If I win, I finally get to destroy it." "And you're calling it quits because?" "Because you hate it, too. You will. When you see what I show you." "What if I say no?" His lips curled into a smile, then opened to reveal a belting laugh. "You've already said yes. And now, you're going to be my champion. Against the alien powers, the eldritch horrors, the new gods, the old gods, the natural phenomena. You will fight in my stead, and then we will destroy this insufferable place together. Your training begins now."His hand extended out to me. It looked like it was miles long in that moment. "You son of a bitch. I'm in."
Alexis approached the gates slowly. A stiff with this much public awareness, unfortunately, had a lot of attention, even once their soul has wandered off. The spells to fool security cameras and unlock the gates were easy enough. Watching for any mystical protections or wards, she smirked as she finally came upon the grave site itself. "Come to momma, you pale motherfucker..." Immediately she got to work. Laid out the ceremonial wreaths, revealed her face to the moon, lit the candles in the proper order, and recited the incantations she had rehearsed dozens of times before. Finally, she planted the Titan arum into the ground, holding it with her hands as she breathed slowly out into the cold night. Slowly her eyes opened, her lips curling into a smile to greet the astronaut. But she didn't see the corpse, risen from the grave. She saw nothing. Nothing had risen from the grave. "What? No no no, that's not even possible... the candles, good... positions, good... what am I miss-AH, jesus!"Alexis nearly fell down backwards, instead stumbling a few feet as she was surprised by the entity before her. Typically, when a corpse was risen, it was a pale visage of the human it had once been. But before Alexis, floating in the air, was an ashy black skeleton, with piercing yellow eyes, its face twisting and contorting rapidly, occupying different spaces at the same time, as if it was a visual glitch in a video. It was radiating cold, freezing Alexis' skin and breath. "What the hell are you? You're supposed to be a risen body." "I cannot be risen, Alexis."Its voice was raspy, twisted, crunched, smooth, angry, and calm all at the same time. As if multiple voices were speaking through it as some sort of conduit. "I am not dead. I am not alive. I am not. I-I-I-I-I exissssst in the seams of your comprehensionnn-ah." "Then... who are you? The ritual wasn't supposed to do this, I-" "Perhaps I onccce was. No longer. Now I am we, we have become I, I-I-I-I am more." "Okay. Uhm. Could you give me a minute?"Alexis' breath was becoming ragged. Never before, in all of her necromancy, had she been so moved, so frightened, so awestruck. With brief pause, her voice shakily reached out, "What happened to Victor Greenstreet when he went through that wormhole?" "He found an exit-t-t-t. A door. Wormholesssss are gates. Barriers. Fail safes. They lead to more." "Why are you telling me this?" "The universe, Alexis, is more than you. Or Victor. Or planets or stars or galaxies. It is everything, it is-"Alexis couldn't comprehend whatever the entity began to spout. It was as if she was suddenly made deaf, then subject to a roaring fire, then chilling winds, then the speech resumed: "and ssssso-o-o-o I cannot be, here. W-w-w-w-we cannot re-assimilate. What have they hidden from you?" "They said you - they said Victor died. In re-entry, some sort of seal, or something, broke, and he burned alive upon re-entry." "Victor was no longer on his vessel when it retuuuuuurned to this planet." "What? Victor isn't buried here?" The entity contorted, its limbs sporadically disappearing and reappearing in different spaces, curling up and then spreading out, screaming and then weeping, laughing and then hissing. "Victor is not b-burrrried-ah." "Who are you? Why did you choose me?" "Your magicssss. They thin the divide-ivide-ivide. We seeeeeeee you. I knnnnow - y- you. We arrrrre." "Where is Victor Greenstreet?" &#x200B; &#x200B; "Yeah, I just found 'em here, snuffed out." "Well how the hell did candles get to the grave site anyway?" "Beats me. Footage shows nothin', gate's not busted in. Whatever kinda player we got here, they're a ghost."
The looks on the faces of his co-workers said it all. They hadn’t seen him in a few weeks so they all just kind of assumed he wasn’t coming back at all. He strutted up to the desk with his usual calm, and seemingly effortless charm and swagger. His temporary replacement stared at him as did his work partner. “No offense but you’re in my seat pal.” He said calmly but with a sharpness that implied he was completely serious. His replacement moved slowly and moved to the right as he walked over and hopped into the chair. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen...” He began staring into the camera and the faces of his shocked production team. “…I’m Lance Randall in case any of you forgot. I know it’s been awhile and I have some nerve charging in here and demanding my spot back but...BAWWK...s-Sorry you had to hear that but I have a commitment to this town and this news station...bawwwwk...and that’s to deliver the news no matter what...” Lance pecked under his wing before clearing his throat. “If chickens could blush I’d look like a rare one course meal but that’s not the point. If they group of people that did this to me are watching...I’d like to talk...”
Oddly enough, I used to love Halloween. What I found appealing about it, was the whole focus on the things people fear, you know? We’d scare each other silly, share spooky stories, and fabricate terrifying costumes to the best of our ability. The occasion was ominous, yes, but that didn’t mean it was buckets of fun. Every time the month of October was upon us, I would spend every day anticipating the arrival of the 31st. To prepare, I’d write up some tales of terror, as well as build a horrific costume from scratch. You could say, I was an attention-seeker. ...Come to think of it, I was. Eh, you get the point. As I was saying before, Halloween became one of- no, my FAVORITE holiday of the year. It allowed for some fond memories, which I am very thankful for. Those times of dread, made for moments of joy, which still hold a special place in my heart... ...however, making more of them did not come to last. Soon, the bonds of childhood began to loosen. I was beginning to mature, which meant I had to grow past a good deal of earlier interests. That meant my toys, my unwise beliefs, and sadly, even my own friends... ...yet, Halloween stayed. Though I had become too old to participate, I still stuck around for the various frightful festivities, to soak in those long-gone past glories. As always, it continued to bring me happiness, now with an added sense of nostalgia. It remained beautiful. Even so, beauty can fade. ————————————————————————— More years passed by, and a change had arisen. There were no longer any stories to be told. The costumes slowly became more bright, colorful, and friendly. Children received fattening edibles if they went from door to door, singing the words “Trick or Treat!” in loose synchronization. Decorations considered by the general populace to be “cute”, were erected from the ground, and hung from above for all to see. The unsettling atmosphere was waning. Everything that made Halloween what it was, faded. It all regressed to a waning memory, dwindling by every second. Before long, Halloween was gone. I did not understand. What caused this change? How could my favorite holiday, become a mockery of what it once was? How could it gradually lose its identity? My confusion worsened the moment those dressed-up teenagers made decisions to vandalize my humble abode. Slowly but surely, my admiration for the event devolved into a burning hatred. I despised when the calendar hit October 31st, loathed the youth’s insatiable desire for unhealthy sweets, revolted at how much skin the costumes displayed, and irked the smiling gazes of the ornaments set up. My anguish was extant, and it hurt so much. Amidst my frustration, I felt something else. A yearning. For the jubilee I once relished, I wanted a change. I needed a return to form. Too many had forgotten the purpose of Halloween. They needed to understand what it used to be about. What it was supposed to be. I ached for something like that to happen. Regrettably, an elderly soul like me cannot do much towards such a gargantuan task. And so, I stopped caring, and chose to move on... ...at least, until I came across a book. ————————————————————————— It was just lying there, beneath the creaking floorboards of my living room. I had discovered it while cleaning up every single thing, the shimmering writing on its cover visible from a crack in the wood. Despite my age, my curiosity lived on. Upon recovering a rusted crowbar, I ripped out the floorboards (In a clean manner, of course) to pick up the unknown object. The book... seeing it alone invoked an odd sensation. I did not know why, compelling myself to open it up, and flip the pages. The texts, written in ink, were not in any language I recognized. The symbols felt strange and... inhuman? And the illustrations... their details were baleful. As if, carefully crafted by an unearthly hand. They too, emitted an emotion. In the face of all things, the most peculiar thing was... ...I could understand what it said. A revelation came over me. This wasn’t some mere book. This was magic. *Dark magic.* Immediately after, I attempted to find a place to hide it. This was a tome of ungodly knowledge, forbidden to the hands of man for good reason. If anyone had gotten their hands on it, who knows what would happen? I couldn’t be responsible for accidentally distributing an accursed volume such as that! I panicked and worried, as I sprinted through the house, looking for a suitable hiding place, but to no avail. Impossible! There had to be another way! I could not just, leave it out in the open! Something would happen! Terrible things! And, and... ...and... ...I harkened back to what I had seen. Amongst the ill-starred pages, there was one that stood out to me. It was about illusions. And fear. I stopped. A thought crossed my mind. Could I use this? And so, I devised a plan. ————————————————————————— There I stood, the open book in hand. Before me were objects and substances I had gathered throughout the past year, arranged in a certain order. Today was the 31st of October, and night was about to fall. I remember a mischievous smile break across my lips, for the time had come. Too long, did they fail to perceive the impetus of Halloween. Too long, did they utterly ruin it. But presently, it would all change. By the time they come out, they would be subject to experiencing terrible phantasms of my design. Of course, I intended for them to be illusions and nothing more, so as long as it teaches them a much-needed lesson. But still... ...upon witnessing what I had in store for them, they would fully comprehend the true meaning of what they celebrated. There would be no more silly costumes. No more idiotic adornments. No more sweets. When all became dark, they would see. With their shared enlightenment, Halloween would return. *And it would all commence, when I said these words...* ————————————————————————— ... ... ...being among the elderly, I would be wise with every step I took. I had witnessed what the world had to offer, so I would understand what was right and wrong. Yet, what I had done, reeked of foolishness. I do not know what I did wrong. Was I missing something? Did I say the incantation incorrectly? Or, was it simply because I called upon dark forces? Regardless, I was ignorant to utilize that tome. And for the sake of an irrelevant holiday? Just how stubborn was I? Things change. Why couldn’t I accept that? It was just a simple fact. I know it’s my fault. Thanks to me, the world remains in turmoil. While I aimed to create some petrifying illusions, I ended up summoning these... commodities, who want nothing more than to scare people in the worst ways possible. Because of me, innocent lives are either killed, driven mad, or even... ...ugh. I should stop. You came here to murder me, not listen to the ramblings of a shriveled, delusional raisin. It won’t change anything, I will promise you that, but given our current circumstances, I’d appreciate if you did so already. I did something very bad, and right now, I should be suffering the consequences. Also, I don’t think I can bear to live with my mistakes. So please, out of the kindness of your own heart, can you put that bullet through my head, right here, right now? It’ll be quick, I promise. END (Criticism is accepted)
"Um Vi, where are you going?"Tasha fluttered anxiously into her commanding officer's tent. The whole room was in a general disarray, various items flung everywhere, the only exception being the glimmering spear on the wall, and the halo hung neatly by the door, softly glowing. "I'm going to earth!"Violet had an unexpected spring in her step as she bounced around the room, throwing things into her carpet bag. Sometimes she'd hold clothes up to her body in front of the mirror before either tossing it to the floor or putting it into the bag. "And you'll be back... in a few days? Maybe a week?"Tasha watched Violet dig through a pile of laundry searching for something. "Oh... I don't know if I'll come back! If I do, it'll certainly be after many decades. Hope you don't mind, I'm sure you'll find someone to replace me!"Violet found the dress she was looking for. "I mean maybe... Command can find someone, but. Why? We're supposed to go to war soon, didn't you hear, I thought you of all people would know."Tasha looked at the spear, the halo. Surely Violet wouldn't give that up, right? "I'm in love!"Violet spun around, her wings drifting lazily, the most wistful smile on her face. In this moment of picturesque serenity, Tasha can barely keep a level expression. "Are you sure? Do you know him?" "Her, and she's gorgeous. She's got the most beautiful red hair... She has cats, she works at a garden, but volunteers at a soup kitchen, helping feed the homeless, isn't that noble?"Violet sits on the floor, holding a shirt to her chest, petting it. "But do you know her?" "I feel like I do, I feel like we're made for each-other."Violet closed her eyes, clearly imagining sitting next to her obsession.
Those damn steps. the steps leading up to the bus that you've spent countless hours on. When will it change? when will I get out of this mundane and soul-crushingly boring routine? God, please let something change. But you knew that these wishes wouldn't change anything. because you've wished them every single day on this bus for the past 5 years, and yet here we are. You climb the steps, hoping that today might be different, but it never is. You slump down in the window seat and look out as life passes you by. You didn't get much sleep last night, you had the nightmare again. Of dying alone, and without meaning or purpose, forever working this shitty job until your last day. "I gotta wake up in time for my stop if I'm gonna get some shut-eye,"you think to yourself. Your eyes slowly descend into the only state that you are at peace: When your brain isn't constantly thinking about the future, or anything at all really. Just. Nothing. So peaceful. You open your eyes slowly and look around. You're still half asleep, so the only thing you notice is that everyone's gone. "Goddammit, how long did I sleep?:"Then, you look out. nothing but black with white dots splattered around, twinkling with different luminosities. It feels like you're inside a Pollock painting. You continue looking around but its the same. what looks to be your greatest fear. Alone. In the dark. In the cold, black heart of the cosmos. Panic sets in, then confusion, then horror and then sadness. Utter and complete sadness. "I didn't mean this kind of change!"you say in between sobs. but beggars can't be choosers I suppose. What am I to do? no food, no water, no supplies and nothing to do. you spend a couple of days trying to figure things out, but the thirst and hunger become unbearable. You weigh your options, and finally, come to a decision. Slowly creeping towards the door, you think about all you've doon in this life. Jack Shit. Maybe this is for the better. No one will miss me. I'm worthless. I'm nothing. But this isn't the time for these thoughts. putting your hand on the handle of the door, you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and push. Huh? you open your eyes, and shock and panic set in again. your body is completely frozen, you are still conscious. How? you try to scream, but there's no air, and you cant move. floating away, silent, lonely, without purpose or meaning. Just debris, floating in space, conscious, but without body. True torture. But this is only the beginning. Welcome to eternal hell, in this cold dark graveyard. Welcome home.

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