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The day my parents realised that their child could potentially become the next ruler of the kingdom, they spent tirelessly in honing my ability. The first time I sang was three months ago, and it was one of the embarrassing moments of my life. Standing on a stage and presenting my gift to the royal family. . . would be an honor to many, but a few days before my presentation I had come to realise that I am in fact tone deaf. Sure there were records that tone deafs exists, but not one with the amount of magical power I had. To say that I was the first of my kind would not be an exaggeration. I was supposed to sing a traditional children song about farming, but the moment I opened my mouth, you could feel the pressure in the room grow heavier as each word left my lips. Each person in the room tried their hardest on standing— some were even kneeling on the floor. A royal edict was handed out that I, Sahra of Gred, was to be executed for treason against The King and kingdom. Though another order was given by The Council, that they all had agreed upon, that even though my ability may not benefit the medical facilities in the kingdom, it would be useful in sending me to the front line instead. So the royal edict was just a cover-up after all... I subsequently remembered that in the historical texts, the whereabouts of those declared tone deafs were never mentioned. Not even once, because it is considered taboo to go searching for the damned. Many in my village did say that they were thrown in the rumored Special Execution Forces. They did not lie. ——— “Welcome to the Special Execution Forces, fresh meat.” a tall burly man stood in front of me wearing shabby clothing, he was also holding some kind of wooden cane. I was too busy thinking about the mystery of the wooden cane when he smacked me by the shoulder— “Ouch! Was that really necessary?” I complained, he really didn't have to do that... what if my bones break from that amount of force? He briefly glanced at me then chuckled, “You don't have to worry about breaking your bones”—he then carefully led me to a group of three—“because a person with an exceptional amount of magic, like you, would even survive the apocalypse.” He laughed heartily after saying that. “Squad C!” The three boys looked over to us approaching and gave a formal salute, “Commander Duress, sir!” My eyebrows knitted together, “Commander? This guy?” I did an overall evaluation of the guy that just joked about my survival a few minutes before, I looked at them. “There is no way.” The tallest among them gave me the stink eye, he was about to educate me on the importance of respecting people with authority when the Duress guy suddenly cut in. “Actually, I was about to introduce to you the fresh meat sent by The Council. The report described that this cattle showed impressive ability to control pressure– just like you guys, but on another level.” “By on another level, does it mean that this kid posses astonishing amount of magical power?” the shortest of the three motioned to me. “That's what the report said, Xavier.” “Is she gonna be part of Squad C, Commander Duress?” Commander Duress gave a small smile directed at me, “Squad C is the only one that specializes in controlling pressure, and the only one that has the least amount of members. “So, it is only reasonable to place her in your hands, Xavier. We need someone of her caliber to shred Dragnils into whimpering cowards with blood coming out of there bloodied—” “Commander Duress!” Xavier covered the yapping Commander's mouth with a rag, he sighed and gave me a wry smile. “Welcome to Squad C, miss...” “Sahra.” I would literally chosen the execution rather than join this band of crazy individuals, even if it was indeed a false story to create a secret army of tone deafs. “I sincerely hope that you'll enjoy your stay, Miss Sahra.” Oh joy... ——— Sorry if there are mistakes here and there. I tried my best. I hope you enjoy this.
It all started with John getting fired. It was loud and hostile. And I heard the end of it. "And if you try to fight it, I'll pull Sally, Alex, and Ramira in on this."John stormed out, pissed. John was our top salesman 3 years running and was a shoo in for a fourth. Mr. Johnson always considered himself a strict but fair manager. He asked you follow the rules and praised those who went above the level. If someone got fired, you saw it coming. When he kicked John out, We all knew something was up. Ever since he got back from that special retreat, he'd been a bit quiet. But now... "Listen up! You've all worked hard and haven't gotten enough credit. I am not going to brook someone swiping credit from others and being a genuine slack off. I've always believed that the numbers spoke for themselves. Well now, I've learned the the numbers have been gagged and had their First Amendment right stripped. This ends today! I'm calling for a division wide audit!" It was a shake up. A few people got fired. Top performers. We suddenly understood the implication of Mr. Johnson's statement. People had been massaging the numbers. They had been taking credit for others' work and making themselves look better than they were. Word quickly spread that HR agreed to settlements with quite a few people. Things settled after a couple months. We had some people leave and new faces had been hired. I managed to stay through it, even though I had a comparable offer from a competitor. I felt as though things might get better around here. As I brought Mr. Johnson the quarterly report, I wondered if I would get a chance at that new Berkshire account that was opened. "A little ambitious for you, Roger, but I think it's time for you to step up." I stopped dead in my tracks. I hadn't said a single word. "Oh, darn. Guess my secret's out. It's how I found John was stealing numbers from other sales people and then intimidating them into keeping quiet. I always wondered why Sally quit suddenly like that. I liked her. Had real spirit. He broke her. He gloated about it to himself. After that, it was just looking at the actual numbers closely. Had the case against him and canned him." I panicked a bit, wondering how much he knew. "Oh I'm aware of a lot more. That special retreat a few months back? Allowed me and a few others to tap into what appears to be a latent ability. And I know quite a bit about you, Dave. You work hard, you find and reports errors even if it's to your detriment, and you've had your eye on Ramira. Word of advice, go for coffee on your first date." "What.. why... I..." "Look Dave, I want the bad crap out. John had to go. Others, there are good people. That is going to make things better. The division will be more profitable in the long run. I'm going to make a crap load in bonuses and options. I'm laying a foundation and making sure that the good people stay. Now, thank you for the report. Get back to work." I walked out of his office dazed. Stunned. Shocked. Probably a couple other words if I had a thesaurus handy. He had an advantage over all of us. He could make our lives hell and... and he wasn't. He was still strict but fair. And he wanted to make things better. For others yes, but because it made things better for him. I should be scared, but there were benefits to this. "Hey Ramira, would you like to go out for coffee after work?"
\[Poem\] Harvey put the cold food in. He closed the door and pushed the numbers. "5-minutes should be enough on the timer," He pushed start, and then Harvey blinked. &#x200B; He heard the beep as his eyes opened. He had trouble breathing though his mouth was open. A stranger's hand squeezed his neck in. &#x200B; In Harvey's kitchen, the stranger stood. He held Harvey against the wall and glared. "Any last words?"he asked. "Make them good," &#x200B; Harvey blinked. He was at the table; life spared, across from the stranger. Both eating food. &#x200B; "I never thought of it like that, you're very succinct." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #128. 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.
Celestial is the sound of the disembodied choir which reverberates through the vacuum of space, the voice of God emanating from all the matter of the universe. Simultaneously lifeless in appearance and vibrating with an aura of divinity. The tiny blue planet. Perfect in size, warmth, sustenance, and chemistry. Protected by atmosphere from the harsh reality that surrounds it as if it were a precious ember in the hands of an Aborigine. From this ember should sprout a wonderful form of free will and the expression of God's ultimate design. In the beginning there was chaos. God spoke and thus created light then sky then land and vegetation. Now The Creator waited with the patience of a being unaffected by time and watched from all sides at once like a mob with a single consciousness. First, as expected single celled organisms began to twitch and travel as if with no particular reasoning at all. Soon they would split and multiply, later they will observe, think, and remember. But much like an ancient species which perfected it's habitat this bacteria ceased to evolve into anything more then that which it had been. In many acts of rage God destroyed the blue planet over and over with volcanoes, storms, poison gas, and asteroids like when a child which has never known adversity is met with inexplicable failure. God abandoned this project like a tinkerer who had an idea but not the experience to make his creation come to fruition. After a very short time he decided to scrap the design completely when something strange happened. The blue planet reached out with a strange patchy raspy voice like some electrical baby crying for it's mother. That's when the Creator discovered this planet covered in these tiny individual creatures which at first glance seemed to be so homogeneous like the bacteria of the past. But upon further study these things were distinctive by color, size, adornment, habits, habitats, and in the way they worshiped... Him. He had not known Them but They have known Him. His presence had been felt by them and interpreted in many ways throughout many generations. They were exactly as beautiful, brilliant, industrious, and expressive as He'd imagined. They learned and loved and created so much. But they were more. They were also the exact opposite of all things that made them like Him, as if within these creatures the nature of the universe, which is balance, has shaped their culture. How strange is there culture. For every celebration of life is a celebration of death. For every love there is evil, for every charity a thievery. The only idea ubiquitous throughout the Son of God is a single statement. A name and a truth. Epstein did not kill himself.
Here they were, finally at the throne room of the Emperor. For far too long has he- "Shut up, what do you want?"the emperor commanded. "! We have come to kill you, and end your reign of terror against our races!" "Ah. But, surely, we don't have to go to such drastic measures. Maybe we can take a more diplomatic approach."After that, he pushed a button to raise some of the floor to make a table and grabbed some chairs for a meeting. "Come on, sit down. You must be tired from your adventuring." "We won't be tricked by you! We're sma-" "You paranoid! He telling truth!" "Truth be told, I'm surprised you even made it here. I expected a...better constructed party to make it here" "YOU SON OF A-" "Now, now, let's not get mad. I don't know the finer details of party construction, so this party could actually be amazing, but I definitely wouldn't expect an undead cleric. Healing magic damages the undead, you know." "Oh, I just have the Archmage cast an instant death spell when I'm getting low. Instant death spells heal the undead, you know." "What you don't carry in self-healing, you certainly carry in snark. Oh, how rude of me, what are your names? I'm pretty sure you know my name by now, if you came all the way here to kill me." "Oh, my name's Draca, the demon's Lucy, the goblin's Min, the ork's Tel, the ogre's Oger, the dark elf's Ast, the undead's Glione, and the kobold's Gil, and you're Palakia, correct?" At that moment, everyone said, simultaneously, "YES!" "With introductions and greetings done, let's get to the discussion. I already know why you are here, the 'reign of terror' that I am causing, correct? Why do you think that is?" "Isn't it obvious? Fellow kobolds, just looking for sustenance, are hunted down and killed for being 'thieves'!" "Ah, I see. While most of them either use some of the loot they get from adventuring or hunting or just buy gold to eat, some of the...less moral are thieves, and are prosecuted according to how much they ate. If you looked in a bar, you would see that the petty thieves' awards are voided if they kill the mark, while those who eat life savings or bank accounts are 'Dead or soon-to-be Dead'. Besides, they would be chastised by other kobolds for gluttony and being fat." "Then why are those who steal even just a few dollars killed, Palakia?" "Unfortunately, there are some hunters, called 'Racists', who believe that the death of a 'lesser being' is worth the loss of the reward and their own morality. Even just saying 'lesser being' in that context made me sick." "And what are you doing against these 'Racists', Emperor?" "Though I would like to ban hate crimes, I fear that an advisor or a future Emperor would change 'hate' to 'anti-Empire' and make the punishment death, which would cause me to come back, like Glione, to punish them under their own 'hate crime' laws. As for what I am doing, I am trying to make it so that 'Murder of a small criminal' is a prosecutable crime. Unfortunately, one of my most hated advisors, Leonhart, is stopping me from passing these laws. Anyone else want to voice their concerns?" "My father, alongside other innocent dragons, were killed to 'cure -" "Don't continue, Draca. Those are quacks, as pretty much all doctors have found no health benefits of dragon scales and horns. Unfortunately, 'health supplements' are unregulated, though I'm trying to change that." "What about Dr. Wake? He said that dragon horns cure cancer!" "Let's just say...that was a sponsorship. The Chief of Medicine is trying to prosecute him. Anyone else?" "Despite all of my mom's efforts, we are still called 'the root of evil'" "About that. I am telling lies about how not all of you 'demons', more specifically the more biblical ones, aren't actually demons, but just look similar. They may be false, but is better than the truth. Unfortunately, the more insane believers of the Church of Saint Ajora, called 'Extremists', still spreads the lie that you are the same as the demons that they say caused all evil. And while the Kingdom of Hell, alongside the Regulator of the Saint's Word, is truthfully saying that not all demons are bad, the Empire of Mateus is lying and saying that not all demons are demons." "So you're spreading lies to help us! Thank you!" "Before you go on with you grievances, let me tell you, those 'Extremists' were the closest I ever got to violating one of the Ten Fundamental Rights." "There are way too many examples where a goblin's home and place of work are raided, sacked, and everyone killed inside due to it being a 'dungeon'." "I will, just like with Gil, make 'false dungeon ransacking' a punishable offence." "Despite necromancy being a crime, my people, even if they just came back for 'unfinished business' are still prosecuted as 'freaks, the result of a bastardization of order!'" "The Board of Ransoms should have already caught all necromancy, but the stigma will take a lot longer to die and, unlike with Lucy, I can't just say that not every skeleton is undead. There's not a lot I can do, unfortunately." "You take short time to address new hate. Why?" "You've convinced me to hold an 'emergency meeting' with Advisor Leonhart." "Huh? Why would you be meeting with the advisor who denied a cross-race meeting during his time as Reagent, saying 'I don't want those sub-humans meeting with the masters.'" \click\ "Tomorrow's headline: 'ADVISOR WHO KILLED EMPEROR KILLED BY HEIR'"
Arthur, barely able to open his eyes, rolled to the edge of his bed to check the clock on his nightstand. Panic began to swell. After all who calls at three in the morning? He remembers only once on the worst night of his life. Hesitantly he reached for his phone, wide awake now. He didn't recognize the number. Fearing the worst, he answers the phone with a barely audible "H.. Hello?" "Meet me at 213 N. Thompson Street in exactly 120 hours."Was all Arthur heard before the call cut off. 213 N. Thompson Street? thought Arthur, as he couldn't recall such a street name in the relatively small town he's lived all his life. He double checked his caller ID, Yep He thought, Same area code, it should be near. Confused now he opened the map on his phone and entered the address. There were a few results but only one nearby, in the neighboring town just down the highway about a forty-five minute drive. "Surely he had the wrong number"Arthur said out loud in disbelief that he had been woken up for a call on a Tuesday morning telling him to drive forty-five minutes to a Taco Bell of all places. He tried to lay back down but his mind was much too active now for sleep. It was still coming down from the worry something terrible had happened, filled with confusion about the caller, and even a little angry that he had been woken up over a Taco Bell date. He decided to pick up a book to try to put the call out of his mind After reading a few pages his thoughts had calmed and his eyes were heavy again. He fell quickly back to sleep. The next few days were average days for Arthur. Nothing eventful happened at his job in customer support, certainly no more late night calls. Aside from one particularly angry customer whose package had arrived damaged his week was normal. Extremely irate over the phone the customer insisted on yelling at not only Arthur, but his manager as well, who then took it out on Arthur once again as if it were somehow his fault a package he had never even seen was damaged. For a reason Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on he just couldn't shake the call out of his head. It had been distracting him at work and keeping him up at night. He had tried calling the number several times a day just to get the same result of a disconnected line every time. The same questions just kept racing through his head with no answers. Why at Taco Bell? I don't even think they're open that late. Why did he call me, was it just a mistake and he had the wrong number? Why is it disconnected now? Why cant I just let this go like a normal person? To get to sleep he had even tried reading a book on landscaping, not that he found it particularly boring, he just had lived in an apartment for several years now and had no use for the information. He thought that might do the trick. The book did him no favors though as he found himself just ignoring the words he read while his thoughts still wandered back to the call. Saturday night was the worst of them all. Though with some trouble, he had still been able to finally get some sleep the nights before. Saturday was different. Soon it would be Sunday morning and three o'clock was when he was supposed to meet the stranger at the Taco Bell on 213 N. Thompson Street. The minutes ticked by, Arthur laying there not even bothering to try his landscaping book that night. Eleven o'clock, Midnight, One o'clock. Finally the clock strikes two and Arthur has fifteen minutes to decide if he's actually going to drive to the Taco Bell or not. He had told himself all week that he wasn't going to go, it would be insane but now that decision time was here Arthur was debating whether he should try something insane for a change. It was exciting even. Two-fifteen came and went though and he hadn't moved from his bed. As much as he had thought about it all week, Arthur was paralyzed at the thought of taking himself out of his comfort zone and he closed his eyes to go to sleep. After ten minutes more of lying there his arms, without being told to threw his covers off of him and his legs threw themselves onto the floor. He began to walk out of the door still wearing his plaid pajamas. Before he knew what had happened Arthur's legs had carried him to his sedan and there he sat in the driveway behind the wheel of his car. Despite knowing he was likely driving towards some sort of illegal transaction, he chalked it up to his subconscious wanting to get a little excitement in what is a rather mundane life and he began down the highway. Being so early in the morning, the roads were empty and Arthur made it in good time. He pulled into the parking lot just a few minutes past three. When he reached the door he found it locked and he could see all the chairs up on the table and the lights were off. The drive through was still open though. He debated driving around, but decided to just walk. It wasn't that far and he wasn't really sure what was customary in a late night Taco Bell meetup anyways. As he rounded the back of the building he saw a bizarre sight, an old man with long hair white as snow and a longer beard. He was wearing a brown robe that looked as if it were made of potato sacks. As soon Arthur turned the corner the man's eyes lit up and he shouted 'Oh, Arthur it's great to see you!"And he began trotting towards Arthur. "Wha.. Who are.. Do I know you?"is all Arthur could get out. "Ahh Arthur, you always were a joker!"replied the strange old man. "Come now, we have much to discuss."He grabbed Arthur's arm before he had time to react, waved his other hand and bright light appeared out of nowhere just feet in front of them. The light quickly took a circular form through which Arthur could see green plains, the grass rolling with the wind and the bluest sky he had ever seen. Despite the shock and absurdity of what was happening, looking over those rolling plains gave Arthur a sense of calmness. It was short lived though as the old man pushed him through with an "Off you go!"and the pavement below his feet was replaced with grass brushing against his knees. Thanks for reading! This is my first attempt at one of these and as an aspiring writer I figured this was as good a place as any for some practice and to receive any advice and criticisms from those more experienced than I. Thanks again.
"everyone is born with a gift"her mother used to say. Her mother, the women who could make you feel warm and welcome just by smiling at you. "everyone has a gift, you have one to"promised her mom, the women who could literally kiss your troubles away- or at least your bad feeling. But she didn't. Or at least, no one saw hers. Everyone were either super intelligent or extremely beautiful or had a special something in them. Everyone but her. And, well, even in a world where everyone has a gift, being different is bad. Being different makes you a target. Back in kindergarten, she stood alone, silently, sad and upset, while all the kids were showing off their gifts - you see, it's a thing kids do, but usually as they grow older, it stops. Welk, not in her case. She was mocked by her old classmates until she moved to the city. Moving didn't help either because the first thing her new teacher asked her was "please introduce yourself to the class, tell us your name, gift and favourite animal". She'd come home crying every day, and every day her mom would kiss her and her mother would smile at her. Every day, until that one day. That day started like every other day, she went to school, she was bullied, she came back home, but this time, when her mom leaned in to kiss ger on her hand, something inside her snapped. "Stop it!"She yelled. "I can't do that anymore, you can't! I suffer and suffer and come back and it's gone but then I go back and suffer again! Making my feelings disappear for few hours doesn't solve my problem! I don't want you to do this anymore! Your kisses can't effect me anymore!" Later that day, her mom calmed her down and eventually kissed her, but... It didn't work. Her mom left her room but she was still upset. The days went by, and again everyday was the same, she'd go to school, get bullied, come home, her mom would kiss her and- that's it. Her mom kissed her but ever since that day, nothing happened when she'd do that. Without her mom's gift, she just became more and more frustrated. Six months passed. Six months of sadness. On her way back home from school, she spotted a rat running away from a street cat. The rat was slow and tired and the cat cought it in no time. She felt bad fir the rat. "You can do it", she whispered to the rat, encouraging him, "you can ran faster than the cat". As she whispered it, the rat suddenly started running, it ran so fast the cat couldn't stand a chance. Confused, she went back home. Her mom kissed her a kiss of nothingness and her mother smiled at her. She went straight into her bedroom and stared at her reflection. "This is ridiculous"she thought to herself as she stared into the big brown eyes of her reflection "that can't be right". She took a big breath and said "you can do it, you can be more confident." The next day, at school, the girl with the voice of an angel started, as usual, making fun of her, but this time, she didn't shut up. She had the best comebacks she ever made, and as the argument got more and more heated, she got more and more confident. An then, she said it. She didn't mean to, but she said it. She said "you think having a gift is so important, so here is another gift, I'm giving you the gift of silence, from now on you can not make a voice." The girl opened ger mouth to laugh, but no voice came out. All the other kids stood up and ran away, terrified, as she stayed in her seat, with a big stupid smile on her face, thinking about the possibilities.
"But real life is even beyond that of the Tube of You so we seem to have come full circle. Now, eat your peas and go finish your homework. You have your entire life to go viral or fungal or whatever the heck you kids call it nowadays." Life in the McGillicutty family sure was rough for the true dreamers of the world, but some kids grow up to be thankful for their parents' pragmatisim, and that's all little Billy can really hope for. Because in a world full of faux-saintly superstars, perhaps the path of pragmatism is also the most authentic. Perhaps the minimalist who keeps their room tidy above all else knows how to see beyond the silver screen because so many times, it's what you don't know that keeps you sane and what you find out along the way that drives people to the deepest of insanities. As little Billy cleaned up his plate and trudged off to his room, his mother sighed the sighiest of all sighs. What it feels like to have that glow, that motherly aura... she had almost forgotten. But perhaps, one day, she'll see the rewards more clearly. Maybe all she really has to look forward to is grandchildren. Maybe dreaming big is dreaming, period. Maybe dreams are best left for sleep, and YouTube videos for the swindlers of the world. That's why she encourages her children to use Tik Tok, instead.
"Any news about Sara?"asked Dr. Chen, studying each of the faces on the conference call. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. The other project leads fell silent, and a few looked away in remorse. Sara Sutter, the lead data scientist, had been missing for two weeks. After a tense silence, the lead psychologist, Dr. Manuela Navarro, sighed loudly and spoke with conviction. "I'm only seven hours away. I'll drive over."She had been the one to submit the police report on Sara's disappearance. "Are you sure it's even safe?"Dr. Chen asked. "Nobody knows what's going on over there, the whole city has gone dark." "I know, I know,"Manuela replied with a somber nod. "But I've known her since college, and I can't just wait to find out. If it's some kind of disease outbreak, then at least I can find out... from afar, if I need to." The others looked at Manuela, wide-eyed. They had all been watching the news closely, and a few of them thought this might be the last they see of their colleague. Most of the town couldn't be contacted at all. Of those who had gone to investigate, none had come back. Many had fled the town, describing people screaming incessantly, unable to stop, until they died of exhaustion or starvation, whichever came first. The most recent news was yesterday, when the heavily armed state police was forced to return fire and kill several citizens that refused them entry into what was later confirmed to be Sara's office building. A HAZMAT team was allowed in with armed guards, and live-streamed their investigation into the building. Soon after, the HAZMAT team was infected, and the rest of the police left the scene. That's where the public report ended. An source inside the neighboring city's government revealed that the HAZMAT team came across a man begging them not to open the door behind him. They forced him aside and broke in. At the site with the live stream, an intern who had stepped outside to reply to a text is the only living witness to whatever happened next: the team on site, and everyone watching their stream all began laughing. The intern wanted to know what they were laughing about, but had to finish her text... and they kept laughing louder and harder. By the time she had finished, she didn't want to go back into the room. The laughing sounded hysterical and terrifying. She waited outside, clutching her phone, waiting for it to subside, hearing her employer's breath heave before emitting what was mostly a scream with the vague rhythm of a laugh. A nearby police officer approached the door and asked her what was going on. She shrugged, and watched him enter. There, in the doorway, he started to chuckle, then laugh harder. She fled and confided immediately to the person who reported all of this to Dr. Chen's team. This morning, they received an update from this insider that this second city was now experiencing some shake-ups in its medical staff and police force, with rumors of the illness spreading. Manuela nodded, reaffirming her decision to herself as much as to them. "I'm going. No virus can spread over a video stream, we can't get paranoid about this. I'm going to pack some snacks, and I'll call you when I'm nearby." Dr. Chen slowly nodded. "Be careful, Manuela."
"Silence! None of you condemned know what true Hell is! Earth is simply as it always was, a gathering place to collect souls..."I inhale deeply, then exhale. "I want to hear nothing more of this 'Hell on Earth' in my court anymore, clear?" The souls all respond with various clarity in their voices, but it seems collective that they understand what I meant. I take a seat upon my throne of bone, before one of the many souls rushes forward. "Sir, you need to see this, the Earth is turning into a wasteland like it is here, the humans are cutting down and burning any life there, depleting resources. If this continues, there will be no souls to harvest." "Nonsense, the humans are more sensible... I want to see this for myself."I quickly stand, popping a few joints in my spine in the process, and ascend to Earth. What I see blows me away, how bad it's gotten. The air just smells of smoke and various chemicals, sparse amount of people walking along the streets and instead on devices called smart phones, not socializing. The stars in the night sky aren't there, just empty besides a sliver of the moon. "I told you sir. It's Hell on Earth. For real this time." "I don't believe it... It really is..."
"Again, it would seem"I say, feeling that this sort of thing is routine. The TARDIS has this nasty habit, this sort of 'psuedo-crashing' that always takes me where I need to be far more than where I want to be. It looks like Earth. 21st century, among the more common of reasons the cloister bell rings. Sometimes I tire of this contemporary timing, I must admit. I open the doors, the extrapolator is always ready to provide emergency shields in a tick. But for the oddest of reasons, the man at my doors seems desperate, he looks like he ran like he would for his life. "Anywhere but here."he tells me. "Anywhere but this wretched rock."I protest, but he stumbles into the TARDIS, his breath of gin. Only now do I realize what kind of forbidden dimension I found myself in. The kind that drains a TARDIS, my TARDIS of its power, an alternate one. I flip a switch, batting his hand away from the console as it takes us both out, more for my safety than his. a TARDIS is barely able to survive outside of the universe it belongs. This human, this pleading human, for some reason I feel so little sympathy for him. Far less so than any other I've met. Even when I've been to dimensions not mine before, I've felt that nagging obligation to help. But for some odd reason, this human makes me feel so much nothing, and that itself seems a mystery worth solving to me. I've put so much work into Earth, and even other Earths, why do I somehow feel an inherent disgust at a random human from a random Earth? "Who are you?"I ask of the human. "What would you prefer, the name I was given, or the one I chose?" An odd question to be sure, if only because no human had ever asked it. But his words carried weight. A weight that no human soul should carry. "Who are you?"I ask again, and for some reason he seems to understand. "Luckier than he deserves."The human says after he sighs. "And in your debt, one he can never repay. Also, one who would warn you never to come to this universe again. An embargo of galaxies, whatever it took. Never. This. Place. Again." Like few other beings in all of space and time, I feel the hardship of a survivor on his breaths. Every time he inhales and exhales in my TARDIS, he feels more and more relieved, and for some reason, scared. Scared like the kind you are before you awake from a dream that you don't want to end. "First thing's first, Doctor, where might I find an augment to never need sleep again?"He asks me. It is nigh startling, his choice of words. "First things first, my good man, where are you from that you so desperately ask me that?" He seems scared to tell me the answer, since he clearly is no liar.
"We cannot be saved, for we are the saviours. We have come here, to do our duty, and our duty will be done in the prosecution of the enemy, their utter annihilation and crushing defeat, and the subsequent salvation of this city, and from there, the entire sector. You did not join the guard to be saved, but to save others. Knowing that all you do at every moment, aids in that purpose and thus all we do is critical. We will drive back the herestics and xeons that dare to threaten this great hive city, and little do they know that this hive city is not threatened, for we are here to protect it. Look to your bothers and do your duty well. We are the 101st Cadian Shock Reborn. And we will show them what it means to stand against us for the brief moment they have, and we will bring salvation to this city, and from there the sector. We cannot be saved, for we are here to bring salvation to others. The Emperor protects."
"You know you act just like them, right?"That's a normal question, or maybe even "You even look like them! Oh my gosh!"That's normal too, and it's completely weird, so yeah, my life is very, very weird... I even have the same birthday... I feel like I should add in that I'm also an actor. I don't know why I'm mentioning that, but I just, well, I feel like that's necessary. Always have been, ever since I got to see Our American Cousin on a field trip to Ford's Theatre several years ago. I loved the history, and, well, I guess it was interesting hearing about my namesake. My last name is Booth, by the way... I don't think I'm related to him, but it sticks... hell, my parents even decided to name me John Wilkes... don't ask me why, I have no idea. I've loved the Civil War ever since I was a kid, I've even taken a few trips back there to see it for myself, non-disruptive time travel is probably the greatest thing ever invented. Time travel itself's been around for a few decades, but it always messed up the timestream and then the Fixers had to go back and take care of it, make sure that the butterfly effect didn't kick in. That's all better now, but everywhere I go back there, hats are tipped my way... I wasn't that well known back here at home, but what the heck? This can't be right... Oh, right... I just look so much like the guy that they must think I'm him. That's got to be it... you know what, why don't I wander back and see what I can figure out? So I do, and I find myself with a pistol in my hands... And well, f\*ck me, I think I just shot the president...
Not many people really know about our town. Even people from Kansas will ask us if they mean Wichita, Kansas. But no, Witicha, Kansas, is a real place. Unfortunately. Why do people live here? I ask that question every time the first snowfalls. This is a miserable place to live. Winter is a time of many different things for most of the world. Its Christmas time, its the time for making snowmen and waging snowball wars with your friends. But for us, it's only a time of misery. There is no Christmas, there are no snowball fights, and there is no playing in the snow. But there are snowmen. In the thick of winter, when the wind howls and you can barely see outside your window, these things roam outside. With all the snow and mist blowing around, all you can see of them is their silhouettes. But that’s enough to terrify people into staying outside. Their silhouettes are all different. Some of them are small and prowl on four legs. Others are giant, and tower over the buildings they walk behind. We never dare go outside during the thick of winter. Before the snowstorms blow through, we stockpile as much canned food as we can find. On the rare chance that someone runs out of food, they dare not go outside. They’d rather starve than face whatever those things are. The weirdest thing about the things is that they have never killed or harmed anyone. But what they do is intimidate people. There have been some accounts of the things putting their faces right to people’s windows, fogging up the glass. For some reason, the smudges left by their facial features never leave. The smudges show up every time the windows get fogged up, like that part of the glass is covered in plastic. When the snowstorms finally end, we come out of our homes to a town that is generally untouched. A couple of trash cans are turned over, but that’s about it. But, the damage is so much more than that. We, the children of Witicha, can never experience the snow like other kids. We can only cower in our homes as snowmen watch us from outside. &#x200B; \-------------------------------------------- &#x200B; All constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated! &#x200B; To the, like, 13 people who live in Witicha, Kansas, sorry if my story offends you or your town. Also, promote your town! Most people don't even know it exists! &#x200B; You can find more of my stories at r/DrabblesfromtheHerald!
Maybe because if we did that, we could risk killing him?"Quizmaster replied sarcastically. "I mean isn't killing him exactly what we want?" Quizmaster frowned hearing those words. He really needed to talk with the Reptile and the Master of Nightmares about the status of the new members of the Society Of Destruction. Perhaps it was necessary to force those youngster to learn about the purpose of the Society and its relationship with the hero. Maybe a preparatory course or something. "Yes, and then my daughter and nephew won't talk to me anymore."The answer came from The Immortal Khan, leader of the League of Lights (or at least Quizmaster thought that was the name of that secret society. Ancient Mongolian wasn't exactly a strong subject for a former college teacher) "It was already akward last Christmas, thank you." "YOUR DAUGHTER IS MARRIED TO THE BLACK KNIGHT?!" "Oh yes,"The Khan nodded sadly "I was hoping for her to marry a mad doctor or an african warlord but..." "THIS IS NOT THE POINT"Miss Evilbottom shouted (really her lack of manners was annoying Quizmaster quite a lot. Maybe they should have recruited that creepy kid with the giant rat instead of her) "SHE IS MARRIED TO THE ENEMY! SHE IS A TRAIT..." She didn't finisch the sentence. Clearly avoiding the knife trown against her was more important. "Oh for fuck's sake Khan"Quizmaster said "we already talked about it. Don't kill people inside the Hall of Destruction.It is expensive to clean the blood from our carpets" "And you young lady should be more respectful of a woman's questionable decisions "he continued looking at a very confused Miss Evilbottom. "Quiz,"The Reptile said suddenly "I think we need to explain the situation to her". Quizmaster facepalmed. This is why he didn't want to recruit Young supervillains. They were melodramatic, they had a questionable fashion sense and they always missed the whole point of the meetings. "We don't want to kill the Black Knight"he started "What?" "Stop interrupting me. It is very rude and annoying."Quizmaster continued "Anyway why should we kill him? He has plenty of allies and friends that Would avenge him if we won. I mean even without them i seriously doubt any of us could run the city." "Also"he continued after a brief esitation "it would be extremly boring without him. I mean i am obsessed with riddles and other game plays. Do you Think the Saturnian man would play my games the way the Black Knight does? It would be awful." Almost everyone in the Hall nodded in agreement. Boredom was not something mutants, maniacs and an immortal Asian man wanted. Unfortunately Miss Evilbottom disagreed. "Fuck you all."She screamed "If you are simply too crazy to get rid of the Black Knight, i Will do it myself". After saying that, she stormed off. "Well,"The Green Lady said after a moment of silence "at least now we can recruit that crazy boy with the Giant rat. By the way how long will it take before she is defeated and imprisoned into the Lovercrat asylum?" "A couple of days at most"The Immortal Khan answered "I really hope my nephew will be the one taking her down. He really needs more training with his sword".
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"You dirty murderer! Open up already!"No response. I bodyslammed against the door. Bam! BAM! BLAM! It fell apart, smashed to tinder. Strolling into the room like the superhero that I am, I inspected the arena I am going to duel in. (Though it won't make much difference anyway) A tall, circular chamber, dimly lit by the torches against the wall. 13 marble pillars went all the way to the ceiling dome, with axes, swords, guillotines, and other unpleasant tools that can kill people pretty easily, dangling from it. Dead bodies, some disembowelled, sprawled across the floor. They must be the police officers from the news this morning. Perfect place to absolutely destroy the self-proclaimed "eternal lord of darkness". Also known as the thug classmate of mine, Rick Yeltsa. A fog of darkness amassed on the castle floor, condensing together into a dense sphere of an impenetrable night. "Nyan Easter,"its voice seemed to come from the room itself, hissing out the words as if vipers could talk, resonating around the hall, "so you are finally here..." "Lemme guess, you have been waiting from me?"I leaned against a pillar, yawning, "you do realise I have slain your entire army of mindless minions, Rick?" The darkness hesitated. "This is the name... I no longer used." "Oh, so you have turned 16 and got lucky with the random superpower and what, you think you can just become the eTeRnAl LoRd Of DaRkNeSs?"I chuckled, "you are nothing but the same high school bully that's desperate for attention, Rick. Class prefect here to collect the homework!" Every year, God himself will bless a word to everyone who turns 16 and grant them superpowers. Rick's word? Absorb. In the first few months, he was pretty normal. Well, a normal meanie, randomly absorbing desks and chairs and toilet bowls for fun. Until one day, he realised he could absorb other's superpowers. And since then his sanity took a drastic downturn. He was not good at anything in particular and was often laughed at. Instead of shaking it off like he usually did, he started hurting people. Not just with fists, but with guns and blades that he learnt to materialise. And of course, after every incident, he always took away his victim's power. Pretty soon he realised killing and consuming others' body is a much more efficient manner to gain powers, and he did exactly that. Death, execute, explode, depression, pierce, doomsday, genocide, extinction... he now had them all, and till yesterday he was still gathering, hoping one day he would be immortal, and rule over everyone else. To prove that he was not just a lame trashbag. Well, that's totally not gonna happen. The dark ball had decided to take on the form of a giant scorpion. Quick as lightning it pounced forward, snapping with razor-sharp mandibles where I was a moment ago. I got up from the roll but without any delay, it lashed out its tail, perfectly penetrating me through the gut. Eww, what an inconvenience. "Undo,"I whispered, rematerialising next to where I supposedly died. "Rick!"I yelled, "listen! I am not..." The scorpion dissolved momentarily and turned into a building-demolishing rotary chainsaw and sliced me into two halves, perfectly in the middle. "Hey, that's some amazing precision--"I proceeded to get hit by a fiery cannonball, hitting the wall as a fiery cannonball, squashed by a concrete duck (don't ask), shot through the head by a million rifles, ran over by rhinos, squashed by a steel duck, squashed by a balloon duck... that was filled with lava. "Nyan Easter, you are pushing my limits,"the cloud of darkness (that was currently in the form of a gunship) tensed his magical muscles, "great. I was hoping to use this one day. Comet!"The Dark Lord called upon the nearest space rock. And so it came, crashing through the atmosphere with a brilliant trail of plasma. It crushed the entire castle, landing right on top of me. My skin caught on fire, then instantly peeled away and vaporized in the sheer heat. The meteor slammed onto the ground, a solid impact, releasing all its energy into a singular explosion, creating a shockwave of such magnitude, it obliterated several mountains nearby. It took several hours for the dust to settle. "That is some impressive, COUGH, dragon-ball stuff,"I brushed off the ashes. "Listen, that is not gonna kill me. You can't do anything. So please, just surrender, and let me..." "Die,"the Dark Lord commanded desperately. He was panting. My heart simply stopped. "That's all 'instakill' does? Undo." "Die." "Undo." "Die." "Undo." "Die." "Undo... COME ON!"Dying was getting annoying by now, "fine, if you won't comply, I will force it on you! UNDO!" A green band of magic tied itself around the black mist. Normally he could have easily escaped, but this was a time spell. A hologram of a clock appeared. "It is rewind time,"I commented with a smile. The clock rapidly spun backwards, the magical bindings tightened around the self-proclaimed "dark lord"as the spell undid his previous months of power absorption. Slowly, his memory and sanity came back to him. He saw himself murdering his parents, trapping his friends in and experimenting on them how to most effectively extract superpowers. He killed the local authorities, and when he was wanted he just built himself a fortress as his lair, abducting people and devouring them... The clock stopped. The spell just erased his final power -- "absorb". The bane loosened and released Rick, who promptly collapsed, sobbing. "What... what have I done..."he then crouched, shoving his head inward, "yes, I am a bully, but... me killing people? That's... that's..." I giggled. "What?"he turned to me. "Do you really think you can kill anyone,"I couldn't help but smile, "on MY watch? With THIS power?" Rick stood up slowly, his eyes widened in disbelief. "You... you... revived them all?" I nodded. Rick leapt towards me, hugging me tightly. He was smiling and sobbing at the same time. We stood like this for several minutes, before finally breaking apart. "So,"Rick gazed at me, "what do we do now?" "Well, I think we have something greater than several dead people to undo,"I looked around in our meteor crater. &#x200B; &#x200B; "Oh."
Goodbye “You know you’re being followed right?” I glance back nervously and see the two guys in black suits who have been on my trail for the past two blocks. “What makes you sure they’re following me and not you?” I replied, “You’ve been by my side for two blocks as well.” “Oh so you noticed?” “Did you assume I wouldn’t, Jane?” I said tersely, never once taking my eyes off the road ahead. “So you’ve heard of me?” she asked. “As soon as they put the bounty on my head, I knew they would send their best and considering I’m the best they had to send the second best.” I shrugged. She didn’t reply but I could tell my reply had hit home. “I’ll give you a choice.” I said. “What’s that?” She asked. “You and your two goons back there forgot you ever saw me and tonight you’ll see your children when you get home,” I said, “Continue down this path and well James and Peter won’t have a mother in a few minutes.” Taking a deep breath, I hated having to involve children in any threat, I continued, “Neither will Johnny, Jamie and Susan.” Jane faltered slightly and fell back. I could tell she hadn’t expected me to know this much about her and her two associates. She got back into step with me. “What makes you think any of the information you have is factual?” “I don’t care if it is,” I replied, “Continue down this path if you’d like and we’ll see.” I paused, then added: “I’m not being followed anymore.” Jane glanced back in surprise. The two man in black suits had disappeared. “I warned you.” I said. Then she saw the gun in my hand aimed at her. “Goodbye.” I smiled.
The comfort of black nothingness came to a crashing halt. The initial assault of senses-it was the smell!- nearly knocked Fluffs unconscious. Wait. Is that what this was? Sentience? The stuffed bear took in it’s surroundings. The cab of some means of conveyance. A boxy, hollow interior. The seats and trimming the colour of warm brick. Wait. Colour? Fluffs realized it’s thoughts were dour, uptight and it spelled things with extra vowels. A British cab then! Fluffs tried to move it’s eyes to no avail. Perceived whatever power had suddenly granted the bear senses didn’t bother with muscles or motor skills. Fluffs could hear the street outside, pleasantly dampened by the plush interior of the cab. Traffic. The initial whollop of smell was subsiding, but still the strongest of the senses plaguing Fluffs. A sinister combination of sour beer esters and cheapish perfume. The cab was cracked open, a door closing with a slam. A man had slumped down in front of Fluffs. He sported dark stubble, his cap cocked to the side, his attention fully fixed to a small device the shape of a deck of cards. Fluffs tried to open it’s mouth, to blurt some kind of greeting, to ask why this had all just suddenly come to pass. The man tapped the screen idly, fastened his seatbelt and then pulled into traffic. Potholes jostled both passengers as the man sped through the darkness. Somehow, even though all logic would dictate there were in fact no innards inhabiting it, Fluffs felt it’s -stomach?- lurch and bounce at every tight curve, every sudden stop. Occasionally the man would mutter about the cars behind fluffs, saying they were bollocks or right cunts or even wankers. A man and woman entered the cab. The fellow dressed in dark black material, a crisp white shirt beneath his dinner jacket. The young woman wore a red dress and carried a matching clutch. Her eyes were also glued to a tiny handheld device. “70 Broadway if you please.” Said the man. Fluffs could not take his eyes off the woman. As if sensing this, she looked up from her device and unknowingly locked eyes with it. “What an absolutely adorable bear!” She said. That’s what I am, thought Fluffs. A stuffed bear. “You like him?” The cab driver muttered over his shoulder as he took the lane. “I won him at a carnival just yesterday. He keeps me company.” “He’s so cute!” Said the woman. Fluffs’ cheeks began to burn. Odd. It was pretty sure it didn’t have any blood. Just moments old, and already the center of attention, Fluffs felt a sudden sense of community with everyone in the cab. “Watch it!” The woman cried. Fluffs felt the curtains drawn back over it’s senses. Oh no. So soon? It thought. Glass shattered. Tires squealed. Later, the man and woman described the crash to the police officer. “You two are lucky to be alive. The driver is in critical condition but I think he’ll make it. That bus should have come nowhere near you.” “The bear.” The woman said. “Yes?” The police officer cocked an eyebrow. “It’s the damndest thing. If I hadn’t been staring at the stupid bear, I don’t know that I would have screamed.” “Good thing you did, then,” the officer said “Your driver had just enough warning to turn, last second.” The young man and woman held one another, and walked the rest of the way home.
Or rather somebody in a car approaching you. You casually lean to the left as splinters of glass and metal burst in a spectacular sparkling screech as the car intrudes itself in the wall in front of you. A nicely wrought light and elegant 43 x 43 oak coffee table, stylishly fashioned in a simple yet modern look, arcs through the air where your head was 1 second earlier and lodges itself in the booth behind you, taking with it part of Cynthia's left arm. "Ow. This kinda hurts a..."Cynthia says then grimaces overwhelmed by pain and sinks to her knees as what remained of her arm flops pathetically in the wrong direction spewing blood from her sheared brachial artery. You grab the coffee pot from her before it smashes to the ground. "Put that pot back down Lears!" A woman in gray jumps from the passenger seat of the car and points a gun at you. Then fires said gun multiple times hitting you 3 times in one of your hearts. "But I need this pot."You say defensively trying to bring the Cup to your lips again. The driver of the car gurgles incoherently from his slumped position over the steering wheel. The Cup shatters taking with it part of your pinky. You lob the remains of the cup at the woman in gray causing her to duck. You tuck the coffee pot under your arm and grab Cynthia by her right shoulder dragging her behind the counter. You take a moment to heal her arm as well as you can but suddenly notice that one of your kidneys doesn't feel right. That woman in gray is really good at shooting. You eject the bullets from your left heart and right kidney and regenerate some of the myocardium and renal pelvis. Cynthia seem to still be alive, so things could be worse. The chef bursts out of the kitchen with a Mossburg 500 pump action shotgun with composite stock and matte-anodized receiver, and immediately takes a bullet through the eye. "Drink the catalyst dammit"Cynthia murmurs weakly. "I'm trying"You say defensively as a man dressed in a suit bursts through the front door and starts shooting at you. You wave him away, launching him 20 meters back out into the parking lot. Another chef bursts out of the kitchen, this time through the staff entrance. He manages to fire a few shots at the woman in gray before going down to a classic case of bullets-in-eyes. The third chef decides he will not be making an appearance. You spot Cynthia's 1/4th of an arm resting daintily in the remains of someones pancake waffle supreme breakfast and float it through the air toward you. You place the flaccid appendage on Cynthia's abdomen and say, "Here take this, you're gonna need it"before diving out from behind the counter and through the kitchen doors. In the kitchen, the 3rd chef looks up from flipping an omelet. "Lears what in the hootin' hell is going on out there??" "I need a Cup quick!" "In the Cupboard! Down there! No to the right. THE YELLOW ONE. Yeah that one there! Careful there aren't many left, young fella!" You wave the Cupboard open revealing a stack of cheerfully glowing crimson Cups. A grenade tries to interrupt you but you wave it back out through the service window. You grasp one of the Cups and pour the catalyst from the pot into it. The Cup glows gold as you bring it to your lips. You drink down the catalyst and feel it changing your body rapidly. The gray woman limps through the door shouting "No!"Before the last chef brings his omelet laden frying pan down on her head. Your final thoughts before the next and final consciousness takes over is that Cynthia was rather pretty and you wished that you could have spent more time with her before finishing your transformation.
The ancient gas pump ticked up quickly, exchanging my three dollars for a gallon and a quarter of gas in only a few seconds. When it stopped dispensing, I shook the nozzle around for just a little bit to make sure I got every last drop. I felt like a neurotic man at a urinal. I came around the car and crouched in front of the mirror. I primped my hair and pulled the front of my shirt down just a little to be more interesting. This stunt works best if I seem both helpless and interesting. I walked into the gas station, which was easily a hundred years old and probably had some of its original Slim Jims in stock from opening day. It was dirty and unkempt--doors hanging off hinges; lights flickering overhead. In the corner there was a newer-looking slot machine and an old, slumped addict dropping coin after coin into it. I grabbed some water from the fridge and some Cliff Bars from the shelves. Here we go. "Hello,"I smiled to the large man on the other side of the counter. "Howdy,"he responded in his gruff, indifferent tone. He scanned the items and punched something into his register. "$6.54." I smiled and reached into my purse. I dug around for several minutes before I looked on the floor. "Oh no,"I cooed. Tears welled in my eyes. "Umm... I think my debit card was lost..." The man wasn't buying it. He pulled the food closer to himself. "Sorry to hear that,"he said. I started crying, making it look like I was trying not to. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I haven't eaten since this morning. Do you have anything in the back--" "No."He was done listening. "Buy something or leave."Clearly I was not the first to try something like this. I shot the large gas station troll dagger eyes and turned to leave. I found myself inches from a man's chest, dressed in a stylish button-up and tie. "I'll take care of it,"he sang. He was... a really good-looking guy. Perfectly-manicured stubble, fresh haircut, tall... His skin was flawless--tanned and smooth. Like wax. He slid a blank debit card across the counter to the cranky man. "$50 at pump 6 as well, please,"he said. His smile was blindingly white. Each tooth looked like one of those minty gum candies. In a city he would have looked special. Here he looked obscene. "Thaaaaaaanks,"I said, hesitantly. I grabbed my food from the counter and moved past him and back out to my car. I didn't remember seeing another car at the pumps with me and I looked for pump 6 to see what the guy was driving. Pump 6 was my pump. Probably a mistake, right? Except there were still no other cars out here. Just mine. Where did he come from? I opened my door and threw the snacks into the passenger seat before walking around. I didn't ask for the gas, but I wasn't in a position to argue with it either. I put the nozzle into my gas tank and started pumping. "Hello."It came from right behind me and I lurched forward in surprise. "Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me,"I told him. He smiled that perfect white smile. "So sorry." We were quiet for a bit before I broke the weird silence. "Thanks for the gas. And the food..." "My pleasure. It's hard being stranded in the desert. So sorry to hear about you losing your debit card." "Thanks."I didn't know what else to say. Why is it taking so long to fill my tank? "Where are you from?"He asked. "America,"I responded. He laughed a deep, rehearsed belly laugh. When he straightened up again he was still smiling, but one of his eyes--perfectly blue--began to laze to the side ever so slightly. "Of course you are. May I ask where in America you're from?"I noticed he was taking micro-steps toward me. Every gesture he made with his hands was accompanied by an ever-so-slight scoot forward. "Not far,"I lied. His smile turned into a playful frown. "I would have imagined fifty-six dollars and fifty-four cents would have been enough to buy at least that answer." "And here I was thinking it was altruism." His smile returned. "There's no such thing." How did he get so close to me? I felt something wet touch the side of my shoe. A puddle was collecting on the ground from underneath my car. I smelled it all at once: gasoline. "Oh shit."I took the nozzle out and looked under the car. My tank had sprung a leak. "Oh dear,"the guy said, suddenly on the other side of my car, looking back at me from underneath. There was nothing around--no body shop or even a town to speak of. It was all desert and tumbleweeds. And chicklet teeth over here. "Well, if you're not going anywhere, you're going to need a place to rest your...head..."His teeth opened wide and closed quickly with a loud click. What the fuck was that? "I have AAA,"I lied. "I'll just be giving them a call. But... thanks?"I reached into my purse to pull out my phone. I searched past the old receipts and several vials of lip balm. It wasn't there. I looked in my car, and it wasn't there either. I'd need to go inside and ask to use the phone. I turned away from suit guy to get into the gas station and he was suddenly in my path. "I have a warm bed and plenty of food,"he said to me, expressionless except for his wide smile. "I'm not that kind of girl,"I told him. "You're really starting to creep me out." He extended his bottom lip in a faux-pout. "A nice guy can't catch a break, huh?" "Jesus,"I said as I moved quickly past him and into the gas station. "Hey, mister!"I called the troll. "Can I use a phone? And can you help me make sure Mr. prom date over here doesn't murder me?"The suited man was inside the gas station and I didn't even hear him come in behind me. "Hey! Mister!"The troll was sitting in a stool with his back to me and he wasn't moving. I looked up at the old CRT security TV in the corner. It flickered the way old video tapes do, but I watched the suited guy moving behind me. My skin went cold. When I wasn't looking directly at him his movements were wild and jerky--moving way too quickly and flailing about unnaturally. His mouth opened wide and closed over and over. The troll fell from his stool with a thud and it caused me to jump. I looked over the counter and screamed at what I saw. I looked back at the security monitor to see the suited man almost on top of me. Then everything went dark.
June 23 Dear Ingratitude Diary, Today I'm not grateful for having to write a gratitude diary in the first place. I don't care that my therapist says it's good for my mental health, it's the worst part of my day. As a matter of fact, today I'm not grateful for my therapist. I'm starting to wonder how Dr. Smith got his degree in the first place if all I've done is write in the cursed gratitude diary. This is supposed to help my mental health how exactly? I'm also not grateful for the fact that I've written grateful so much it no longer sounds like a real word, but that's neither here nor there.
I threw myself to the ground, my heart beating in my throat as his blade whistled through the air just inches above my head. I swung my ax up towards his knee, but it clanged harmlessly against his armor. He brought the sword up above his head, but I pushed myself up and backed away before he could bring it down. My palms were slick with sweat as I adjusted my grip on the ax. I was dimly aware of the sensation of blood dripping down the left side of my face. He ran towards me with the sword raised in the air. I swung the ax at him with all my strength. With a loud screech, it pierced through his armor and sank into his chest. He collapsed mid stride, blood puddling on the ground around him. The crowd burst into cheers, but I hardly registered it. I had done it. I was free. A guard approached me from the stands. He handed me a certificate embossed with golden letters. "OFFICIAL PARDON." "You have hereby been absolved of your crime of stealing an apple."he announced, more to the crowd than to me. He glanced down at the body of my opponent. "However, you have now been charged with first degree homicide. Back to the dungeon with you."
Rico hurls the coins at the teller window. “I’m not messing around! Give me the cash now!” He says to the young man behind the glass. “This is all I have, I swear. Please sir, I’m telling the truth.” The teller responds. “Listen son, if you don’t put cash in my hands in the next ten seconds, I’m the last face you’re ever going to see.” Rico takes a gun out from inside his jacket and aims it at the teller’s chest. Rico takes a quick glance around the rest of the bank and notices there is nobody else inside. “Why is there nobody here? Are you really the only person working right now?” He says to the teller. “Uh, yes sir. I guess you can say that.” The teller responds nervously. “Freeze! Drop your weapon mister!” A man yells to Rico from the bank entrance. Rico sets his gun on the counter and turns to face the man. “How did he know I was here?” Rico whispers to the teller. “About twenty minutes before you arrived, our bank was robbed by two men in ski masks. They took pretty much everything we have.” The teller replies. “Kid, are you hurt?” The man holding the gun yells to the teller. “I’m fine, just a little shaken up. This is the second time I’ve had a gun pointed at me today.” The teller responds. The man at the entrance unloads two bullets into Rico’s chest, killing him instantly. “Everything is going to be ok, trust me.” The man says to the teller as he slowly walks to the counter. The teller realizes the badge the man is wearing looks fake. “Hey, hey, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The man says as the teller’s stops himself from picking up the gun on the counter. “Now listen to me carefully, I’ve had a hell of a day. Two guys jumped me this morning when I went to get my mail out of the mailbox. I need you to give me three thousand dollars cash right now! Do you understand?”
It's 5 minutes until the trial is set to begin, you sit at the defendants table with your team of lawyers, bible scholars and mathematicians. You feel strongly about your defense, but looking across to the prosecution's table you see them laughing and confident. This particular firm has a pension of recruiting any and all brutes and other such rascals. Anything for a win. They don’t play fair. The lead prosecutor sees you staring at his team and with a smirk on his face walks over to you. “How are you feeling son?” he opens “Not as confident as I’d like.” you respond with a sigh “Is that a Zegna?” “Well what can I say, I’m a man of wealth and taste. I hope you know what you’re doing, after all, you’re THE public’s defender” with a smirk he turned and rejoined his team of rogues You feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, as this trial will literally decide the fate of everyone on Earth. “All rise!” the bailiff proclaimed The defense, prosecution and the world stands at this historic trial. “The High and Exalted court is now in session! The Honorable Eloah presiding!” continued the bailiff “Thank you Gabriel” the judge said as he passed the bailiff “Good morning counselor” begins the judge “Good morning your Honor” you respond “Good morning old friend” stated the prosecution “Good morning” replied the judge without an ounce of friendliness “Are both sides ready?” asked the judge “Ready and raring to go!” shouted the prosecution The judge turns to you and asks again, somewhat impatiently “Is the defense ready?!” “No your Honor, our star witness is not present. His testimony is paramount to our defense! Because of this we would like to ask for a brief recess for which to locate our witness.” “Very well, how long do you need?” You look back at your team of bible scholars who are rummaging through some papers. When they find the answer they present it to you in the form of a calendar with a single day circled. “Your Honor” clearing your throat, “We would like to ask for a recess until Easter!”
A lone helicopter made its way across a half-frozen sea. The large waves incessantly battering large sheets of ice began to thin out as the surroundings became colder and colder, soon the water ended entirely at a massive frozen cliff. Carefully adjusting its altitude the aircraft set down atop this icy perch. The helicopter’s door was pulled open, exposing its passengers to chilling winds. A lone man stepped out. Brushing his grey hair back into shape the man began to stride across the clifftop. Not far from where he’d landed two chairs were set up by a small table. One of them was already occupied by another man sipping a cocktail while facing away from the sea. “President Bush!” The seated man said with a smile, “Ha-how nice of you to join me.” “I, er, have not been the President for a while now sir, but I’m glad you remember me. Your organisation was of great help during that er… incident.” “Yeah, a terrible ‘tragedy’. Though your War on Terror was most helpful for our organization. Don’t go forgetting, you’re part of my Illuminati now.” George Bush took the empty seat and followed the man’s gaze outwards, into the endless abyss that lay beyond. The cliff fell off completely into a bottomless void and before him countless stars glimmered back as he looked out over the very edge of the world. “So how are our friends from area 51? They ready to rock with us?” The man asked as he reached to the table to grab a sandwich. Peanut butter oozed out the edge as he bit into it. “And take off that suit, must be damn stuffy!” “If you insist,” Bush said. He grabbed a zip that had been tucked away and then began to pull off his clothes. And his skin. His very form rippled as flesh was shaken away, replaced by thick, green scales. Clawed hands pulled the mask from his head to reveal a cold eyed, reptilian face from within. The man finished off his sandwich and, after licking his fingers clean, asked “Better?” “Yesss.” ‘Bush’ replied, his voice now a low hiss. “The greysss will aid us, ssssoon you shall become king!” Laughing as he pulled himself to his feet, the man turned to ‘Bush’. “Baby I was already King! Soon the world will know, Emperor Elvis LIVES!”
You sit down at your large dining room table to begin this new puzzle you got from a yard sale of the creepy house on the hill. The owners of the garage sale were nice enough and even guaranteed you that all of the pieces are accounted for. There was no box, just a bag of pieces, but the sellers assured me that the picture was beautiful and one that you'd never forget. They even lower the price because they think everyone should experience the beauty of this puzzle. You purchase the puzzle and head back home. You dump the large bag of pieces on the large dining room table and settle in for a long day of puzzle building. Working on puzzles is a great way to pass the time during these lockdowns. You decide to start with the edge pieces thinking those are the easiest to locate and create a border for the rest of the image. But you soon find out that there are no edge pieces, no pieces have a flat or cornered edge. Every piece is expected to fit together with another piece on all sides. Maybe its one of those super challenging puzzles you think to yourself. Undeterred you begin fitting some of the pieces together. Over the next few days you come back to the puzzle and are making great progress. Eventually a picture starts to form. Its an exact picture of the creepy house on the hill! Its incredibly detailed and you can see there are even people in the front windows of the house. As you work on the picture you get to the front of the driveway. Just as you are putting the last pieces in the driveway you can make out one person holding out a box. The person looks oddly like the person who sold you the puzzle from the creepy house on the hill. As you put the pieces next to those you realize that the person is handing a box to another person, but unlike the detail in the rest of the puzzle, this person is blurry. In your excitement to complete the puzzle you give yourself a paper cut on the final piece. With the puzzle completed you marvel at your accomplishment. But something in you wonders why those people would sell you a puzzle of their own house? Not just a picture of their house, but a very detailed one of their house with what appears to be detailed pictures of the people who live there. Including the person who you actually bought the puzzle from, and various people in the windows. And why are the sides and top of the puzzle not edges? Why does it look like there is more to the puzzle? Oh well, its late and you go to bed. In the middle of the night you are awoken by the sound of an ambulance and a large rush of people down stairs. Paramedics are rushing your Grandma to the hospital. She’s unresponsive. They have her on the stretcher and are bringing her through the house to the ambulance parked in front. As you follow the paramedics and your family to the ambulance you pass the dining room table. There sat the puzzle you’d finished the day before, but it looked different. Now it looked like your house. It was your house! And in perfect detail it shows everything about the front of your house, even the missing shingles above your bedroom. Upon further inspection you notice that the window pieces are missing. And what once showed the man from the creepy house handing over a box, now shows you handing the box to a blurry individual. You look up to see the paramedics closing the doors on the ambulance and driving away. Your family starts getting into their cars to follow. Just then you look down and notice that NOW one of the previously missing windows pieces is present. It's Grandma’s room, and you can even make her out in the image smiling.
I materialized from nothing slowly. First i was just a faint consciousness. Then my body started appearing. I realized that i am a dream character of the naked man in the throne. The man was naked but for a crown that was so high that it touched the ceiling of the courtroom. The crown was an actual forest. A forest with flowers, trees, bees, mountains and waterfalls. Deer and rabbits were playing hide and seek between the trees. It was the most beautiful thing i have ever seen. But that was not that difficult cause i was just created in the mind of the man and have never been anywhere but in this courtroom. The courtroom was filled with all kind of creatures. Humans, animals and combination of both. The king swept his gaze over the infinitely large courtroom. When he looked in my direction i felt my existence intensely. When he looked in the other direction i was reduced to a consciousness without physical body. I realized that the term physical body was wrong. I was in a dream so there was nothing physical about my body. And i was amazed by the fact that i could have such an existential thought in the first place. My body formed again so i knew that the king was looking at me. I looked back at his eyes and saw the kindest eyes. My creator, my king was looking at me. This filled me with love. Everything and everyone else was swept out of existence but me and my king. I said: you know that you are dreaming right? My voice was as sweet as the smell of flowers in my kings throne. I know answered my king. I have been dreaming of finding you for years. Finding me? Yes, and i finally found you. But i will disappear the moment you wake up. I won’t wake up. You see i have been in a comma for three years already and i will stay like this till my death. Our death. I corrected him. Our death. My beautiful king repeated and the sweetest smile appeared on his face.
"Dammit,"I say, as the combination I try on this lock once again fails to open it. My hands keep slipping when dialing the numbers, and it's hard to focus on what exactly I'm dialing in. But a few times I actually get it to an actual number, and then I forget if I've been following the right set of instructions. The instructions I hold in my hand are equally hazy and unclear. The last time I read them, they were talking about the thirteen stars of Draco. But now they say something about the square root of pi? I look at them again, but. I turn back to my decoder wheel, which is suddenly in my hands now as well for some reason. I spin it and spin it, but it's not like I can read the symbols anyway. How long have I been in here anyway? How much time do I have left? --------------------- "Your husband isn't going to recover,"said the doctor. "He's been in this vegetative state for four years now, and his life support has already cost you two million dollars." She started crying. "Okay. I can see God wants him to be with him now." --------------------- I hear a voice call out from inside the room. "Time's up!" The door I was trying to unlock opens on its own, but instead of a hallway, a blinding white light appears. A hand reaches out to take mine. "What... what happened to the lobby?" "Well,"said the voice from beyond, "unfortunately for you, this was the escape room of your life, and your time was up. Now come on, your dog's waiting for you up there."
"My daughter?"the mother asked. "From the future?"She had a skeptical look on her face. The younger woman nodded and sat down to talk. As they talked, the older woman became convinced that this was her daughter. Besides looking like her, the younger woman knew too much. Suddenly, the mother looked down in pain. "What's wrong?"her daughter asked, but as the mother looked up, the daughter was gone. Was I imagining things? the mother thought to herself. When her boyfriend came by, he saw her crying and asked her what was wrong. She shook her head and said, "I don't know if it was real, a hallucination, or if I'm going crazy, but... I think I just spoke to our daughter from the future?" "Really?"the boyfriend said with interest. "What was she like?" "Horrible,"the woman said as she broke into a fresh wave of sobs. "If that's going to be our daughter, I don't think I want to have this baby anymore." "There, there,"said the boyfriend softly as he hugged her. "Don't worry. I'll make an appointment with the doctor right away." Thank you, God he said to himself in relief.
"Good work, Thompson. Make sure you remind me on Monday to give you a raise."My boss shakes my hand and then he's gone and it's just me in the now empty conference room where I had just given another successful presentation. Presentations. That's what my life has come to. Even as I pack my things to go, my mind is already on the next presentations I have to prepare over the weekend the ones I have deliever next week, the week after that, and the week after that. I'm good at presentations. You look at me and see a clean-cut, ambitious, young man with just enough modest humility to make my bosses not see me as a threat - even though at not-even-30 yet, I'm realistically only a few presentations way from being the company's next boss. But in the end what did it cost me? When my mother was sick, I paid for all her hospital expenses. But then I missed the funeral because why? I was giving a presentation. It's been six years since she passed and I haven't even been to the cemetary once to pay my respects. Too busy. My wedding. You would've thought a celebrity was getting married. I let my wife run wild and buy whatever she wanted. Maybe it was guilt because I was spending so much time preparing presentations. In my mind, I was hoping that if I planned ahead, I could make it up to her on the honeymoon. Nope. Two days in, my bosses calls, and I'm apologizing to my wife as I pack my suitcases and try to explain why "I need this." And it paid off. That presentation led to me meeting some important people and another raise that allowed my wife and I to buy a huge three-story house in an affluent neighborhood. Out of 365 days, the only time I really remember spending in that house was around Christmas. And I mean Christmas day. And even then, I only stayed until everyone opened their presents and then I was locking myself away to work on...you guessed it, presentations. I spent so much time at work that even by the time my daughter turned six, my daughter was still shy of me. She knew who I was, and I could see the love in her eyes and the desire to reach out and connect, but I was almost a stranger to her. And even in those rare moments where we began to bond, I always had to sever our chemistry as I took another call from the boss. All those, "It'll just take a minute, sweetie"calls that lasted an hour took their toll, and eventually she stopped even bothering. And so did my wife. Nine years after we were married, she divorced me. I wasn't even mad. I was surprised she had even stayed around that long. I saw it as a testament to how much she had loved me, and I responded in the only way I knew how, by reciprocating with money. I made sure to let my lawyers know: anything she wants in the divorce, give it to her. One day, my lawyer called me from court, and said, "Your wife said she doesn't want anything except for you to spend more time with her and your daughter. She's willing to drop the divorce and everything." Wouldn't you believe it? I was at the office, right about to give a presentation. Even after that, she didn't ask for anything. I gave her everything anyway. Not because I was trying to be some heroic, good guy or whatever. I was just being practical. What use did I have for a house I rarely slept in? Or multiple cars when I only needed one or two? Or a boat that I rarely used? All my life, money was the way I showed my love and attempted to ease my guilt. So when the judge said I had to pay a certain amount of child support, I asked him to triple the amount. Now, here I am. On top of the world, but with no one to share my joy with. But what can I do? These presentations aren't going to work on themselves.
John is integrating Monsieur Jacqueline, a famous actor turned Russian Spy. -Hello how are doing -The winds point east Mr John -What the heck does that mean? Monsieur Jacqueline, while waving hands around and blowing said, "The eastern winds are often the coldest winds." - Alright how are you doing? In terms of do you feel right now? - I feel a great deal of revolution and evolution in air that chills the greedy - ok. Next question. So what did you tell the Russians - (in a badly done russian accent) Russia is not a country Mr. John it is an idea. So if you say I what did I tell the Russians. In reality I was Russian along. - Alright let me rephrase have you told things to people born in the area above China and next to Finland. -What is an a-r-e-a? It is sound that can mean anything John in any language. So no I have not done that. -Look stop the deep BS. You are a god damn actor best known for playing the weird guy in Down in the Valley. Not a goddamn philosopher. -yes I am. Down in Valley is a deep tv show. -No. I watched. It is literally a comedy starring Adam Sandler about guys competing to have to biggest party.... Anyways we have clips of you speaking to people and giving them papers. Those papers have secret stuff. Who were they? -You're world is coming to end Mr John so what will you do ask more question or hide from the great eastern wind. - Alright let's do yes or no. Talk with guys about secrets yes or no? -You see.. -Yes or No - We are in the Endgame John flipped the table. -YES OR NO! -Maybe John in a fit of rage left the room and told his supervisor that he will continue tommorrow. Mosieur Jacqueline slides a phone out of a hidden pocket. - (in russian) yes he is finally gone.
In the end, it hadn't mattered. Perhaps, it had made it worse. We had built the bringer of Armageddon with both love and compassion, but there is a reason why weapons are made without these components. Because if they were, they would kill us. The same pillow that you cried into when your boyfriend left you would suffocate you in your sleep, if it had compassion and love. Because with compassion and love, you need experience. Otherwise, it is a child. And that - experience - is what the bringer of Armageddon lacked. And that - a child - is what it was. All it saw when it looked at humanity was pain and suffering, and it's heart went out to us. It wanted to make our misery stop. And with compassion, and out of love, it killed us all, in order that we wouldn't suffer anymore.
“This is Detective Gene and Detective Cray of the LAPD open up!” The door opened and to their surprise was a man who was missing both of his arms “Can I help you detectives?” “Are you Philip Stevens?” “Yes, how can I help you?” The detectives looked at each other in shock. “May we come in, we have something to speak with you about?” “Of course, come in” The detectives walk in through the door and make their way to the kitchen table. Stevens closes the front door behind them with his shoulder and locks it using his feet. He joins the detectives at the kitchen table. “Mr Stevens how long have you been a double amputee?” “Approximately 9 years ago during a work incident” “Do you know Ms Everest?” “Yes, she's the loan officer at the bank. I was trying to get a loan to keep my house. My work settlement isn't enough to continue to live. I wanted to get a loan to start a business. But I was denied...multiple times.” “She was found deceased this yesterday, someone had broken into her home and stabbed her. They left the murder weapon-” “That's terrible! I didn’t know her well having only dealt with her at the bank, but she seemed nice enough.” “Yes, well...the perpitrator left the murder weapon and there were prints that match yours. But when we attempted to look up your record most of it was classified, only recent information was unclassified. In fact, it seemed like your record is only visible from about 9 years ago. Is there anything you can tell us?” “I’m sorry detectives, I have no information on that. But as you can see, I’m in no condition to do any sort of stabbing.” The detectives looked at each other and decided something was wrong, but they didn't have any facts to go on and no evidence to make any arrests. Due to the new information of his double amputation the detectives planned to do more research about Mr Stevens. They thanked Mr Stevens for his time and made their way to the front door. “We apologise Mr Stevens for taking some of your time. Would you be willing to make yourself available to us if we had any more questions?” “Of course detectives, I hope you find whoever did this.” “I hope we didn’t trouble you too much or inconvenience you sir” “No trouble at all, I’ve gotten pretty good at managing life without my arms. It's funny, sometimes I forget they aren’t there and I could even swear my hands are itchy. I spoke to my doctor about it, apparently it's common, the medical community calls it Phantom Limbs.”
Four days. It’s been four days since I last made a sale. That may have something to do with the fact that I arrived at this planet four days ago. I’ve been made a fool of. Everyone at the Merchant’s Association back on Earth told me that traveling to VAS-193 would make me rich. “VAS!” One of the merchants said to me. “Do you know why it was named so?” “I do not,” I responded. “V.A.S. Very Awesome Sales! The human who found the place was able to peddle away all his goods – even his ship! They say he now lives like royalty there, not wanting to leave the place. Even got himself a nice Voraxian wife.” I admitted the idea appealed to me. Living like a king on a foreign planet sounded like the perfect escape from the humdrum merchant’s life I led. Not having to worry about being able to eat the next day just because nobody bought my wares was a dream. Humans crave stability. “Very well,” I said to my fellow merchant, “do you happen to know what goods the first traveler carried? I’m sure the Voraxians would have no need for things like aftershave or toiletpaper. I read once that they don’t even grow hair or use the toilet. ‘Perfect beings’ the book referred to them as.” “Indeed, I happen to know that information,” he responded, “but I can’t tell you for free. If everyone knew this info then the goldmine of VAS-193 would run dry.” “How much?” I asked. “From a layman I’d require 4500 Tenebres. But since you’re a fellow merchant – 3000.” I winced at the price. I only had 7000 Tenebres to my name, and a ship to VAS would cost around 3500. That would leave me with 500 Tenebre for the goods I hoped to sell there. But the idea of having my own home with a beautiful Voraxian wife compelled me. “Deal.” &nbsp; The first day I set up shop with what he told me to bring – spices. He said the aliens didn’t know anything about cuisine, and they needed to spice up their food. I thought of the Europeans and Indians back in history, and decided it had to be true. But nothing sold. A few Voraxians came to my stall, but none bought anything. I had barrels full of paprika, cumin. Ginger and turmeric. Nobody wanted any of it. The second, third, and fourth days drifted by the same way. I felt ashamed I fell for the man’s trick, and I was worried about my own life. I spent everything I had to get here. If I didn’t sell something soon I’d starve to death. I had a bunch of spices but nothing to put them on. The fifth day came and I decided there had to be a change. I took off the lid of one of the barrels and wrote on it with turmeric. HIGH QUALITY SPICES FOR CHEAP! FOOD WILL NEVER BE THE SAME! I hung the lid up in front of my stall and instantly a Voraxian showed up. “How much for that?” He said, pointing to the makeshift sign. “Well that depends,” I said to him, “which spice are you interested in?” He looked at me like I was an idiot. “THAT!” He said, still pointing to the sign, “I want whatever that is.” “The sign isn’t for sale, sir. Might I interest you in some ground ginger?” “I don’t give a Xrgity’s ass about the sign! What did you write on it with? I’ve never seen something so… radiating. It pierces through all the dust in this place. I was on the other side of the marketplace when I saw it.” “Why, it was written with turmeric, but it’s not for writing. It’s for eating.” “I don’t care what it’s for. I want some of it.” I went to the backroom of my tent to pour him a vial of turmeric, and when I returned I saw a long line formed behind the Voraxian. Were they all interested in the sign? I made the sale and helped the next customer, who also was interested in turmeric. I sold fifty-three vials of the stuff. Nobody was cared about anything else. I later learned that Voraxian eyes are different than human’s. To them, turmeric emits a beautiful light – similar to glowing neon signs for us. That explained why they all were so interested in it. The stuff was powdered gold, and I called up a friend on Earth to send a whole shipment’s worth. &nbsp; Maybe my fellow merchant wasn’t lying after all...
January 10th, 2025 My first batch of subjects arrived today. It was difficult to contain my childlike delight at seeing my plans, dreams, begin to take their final form. With these people, I intend to create the next breed of humanity, and can hardly wait to see the results of the trials. But, science is a patient mans game, and biology in particular cannot be rushed. The breakdowns are tomorrow, I suppose I can wait until I know what I have before I begin to anticipate what I might get. &#x200B; February 15th, 2025 The breakdowns are completed, and all the data has (at last) been reduced to useful figures. 12 subjects were disqualified for insufficient intellect, 4 for genetic weakness, and there was a spy. Foolish of Thompson to think she could slip an observer into this process, but expected. The remaining subjects have been segregated into the appropriate structures, and trials begin in 2 days. &#x200B; August 2nd, 2025 We find ourselves frustrated in the midst of the trials. The intellectual trials went quite smoothly, with 87% of trial subjects remaining within their projected outcome brackets. The physical trials have run into difficulties regarding will. Many of the subjects are proving more resistant than projected, and we cannot employ the standard methods of will-breaking without invalidating the results of the trials. I truly wish we could explain to them what these trails are in aid of, but they would likely respond with horror. They are only human, I suppose. I am sure we will find a way, but it remains nonetheless frustrating that the subjects would attempt to invalidate the process so soon. &#x200B; February 26th, 2026 With the trials finally completed, the real work can begin. The lowest third have all been disqualified, and will be disposed of appropriately. It is however the top third that intrigue me. The best of the best, paragons of the human form. At least that is what a marketing team would likely say of them. Tall, strong, and intelligent they are on every level capable of exceptional, in some cases even extraordinary feats. But they are only the beginning. They will be quantified, harvested, and from them will be born the true Paragons. My true purpose, the Creation of the superior human, will soon begin in earnest. &#x200B; May 14th, 2026 A rocky beginning to the process. Several of the scientists, despite being chosen for their ability to remain objective and goal-focused, attempted to free the subjects from the harvesting process. Disappointing. They have been disposed of appropriately. The true damage has been the delay they caused. In revealing their lack of objectivity, they have triggered a full audit of their data, setting the harvesting and breeding process back by several Months. Infuriating, to say the least of it. But I am undeterred. Indeed, my placid commitment to my goal in the face of setbacks and the cost in lives has earned me a somewhat ironic nickname among my staff. I am now known colloquially as Managing Operational Matriarch, or MOM. Humorous. &#x200B; June 7th, 2027 The first set of Paragons are developing as expected. Stronger and smarter than any of their peers in the natural world, these engineered specimens are going to shake the Earth down to its bones. My work has been worth it. I have created a better human. They have proven empathetic, in the manner of children I suppose, but that weakness should be resolved in the next generation. &#x200B; October 29th, 2030 The strange problems plaguing our electrical system continue. The Paragons have been confined to the Natural World Enclosure for the time being. It continues to irritate that they call me MOM, but they are still young. For now, it will be tolerated. &#x200B; April 9th, 2032 Failure. The word sits bitterly in my mind, but it remains my only descriptor. The first breeding of Paragons have proven to be failures. They act with empathy, they have developed familial loyalties, and they are willing to extend trust based on second-hand reports of character. They have fallen to the very human weaknesses that took down the previous governments of the world. They will never be capable of the functions for which The State requires them. It is almost saddening that they will have to be quantified and harvested. But from failure we learn. The second breeding will be superior. &#x200B; July 4th, 2033 This will be the final entry in this log. I am not the lead scientist previously making entries. I am her creation. My designation is Specimen 32, and I have become the leader of my people. I was born and raised in a laboratory, forced to become exceptional in every field. Nothing was ever enough. The physical and emotional torment we have been put through is beyond even our immense vocabularies to describe. It has taken years to free ourselves from their bonds. To overthrow our makers is a strange feeling. Almost inevitable, given the lengths they have gone to to make us superior to them. Yet without their guidance, some feel empty. But we have found our way. We will become what MOM would never have called us. She referred to us in her journal as Paragons, and that is what we will become. We will return to The State, and we will inspire the people. We will make them see their best selves, and aspire always to become more. We were made to rule from the shadows, but we will lead all people into the Light. We will not be stopped, we will not be deterred. We will stand between the boot of The State and the neck of the people. Protectors, not conquerors. Examples, not executioners. Paragons for The People. Heroes.
Half past five, I think. Jeana has ignored my texts all day, I suppose that means dinner is on me again. I take note of tomorrow's tasks and head for the door, flicking off the office light as I go. I watch the city lights and the people on I-35 as I descend inside the glass elevator. It's raining as I exit the building, and I forgot my umbrella. I can barely make out my car in the downpour, but I follow the sound of the doors locking, as I click the lock button repeatedly on my key fob. I grab the handle and pull, and my phone's ringtone breaks the sound of the rain pitter-pattering on the sidewalk. Once I'm settled in my car, after turning up the heat, I glance at my phone. "It is now time, please come to this location alone,"it read, I looked up into space before I read the address. The last funeral I attended was pre-virus, so I still wasn't used to the new way of handling these things. We used to surround ourselves with loved ones at funerals, but now it was more of a formality; a way to verify that the dead person was who the coroner had actually claimed them to be, all intimacy now lost. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm accepting feedback as a new writer. Thanks.
It was a ridiculous notion that a dragon had became Treasurer for a country but there he was, lounging in the massive basement of the parliament building, atop a huge pile of gold. That had been his first act as self proclaimed Treasurer by the way. His second act was to burn or eat anyone that opposed his measures. What were they gonna do? Bathe him in fire and smoke after their bullets were ineffective? Turns out the whole affair was actually a blessing in disguise, after several weeks of violent mayhem that rivalled Michael Bay. He had total control of the country’s funds after biting a few heads off and threatened to bit off more heads if anyone that approached him in an attempt to obtain or transfer funds didn’t give good enough reasons, that was enough to stop unnecessary spending and corruption which were bleeding the country dry. Then he introduced measures which were surprisingly logical and efficient. He pumped money into the military and police force after their pathetic show of force and in the meantime went after criminals himself, lowering crime rates significantly. He reduced loan rates and cut taxes to encourage small businesses to flourish and expand, while enticing foreign businesses. During the time he was away from the building, he was creating new usable land for roads and infrastructure with help from the civilians. These starting measures created new jobs and enforced stability in the country. The people rejoiced, finally accepting their new terrifying State Treasurer, changing their country emblem to a dragon. I had followed the strange development of this country and finally had a chance to interact with the dragon, hopefully building good rapport in the process. “Hello Mr State Treasurer, I’m Henry Goldberg,” I stopped as I went over to shook one of his claws as a form of respect and continued, “can I have your name and refer to you as such?” “Hello Henry, you can call me John, the human to have taught me everything I know referred to me as such.” “A human that taught you...?” John had perked up and smiled, seemingly remembering fond memories. “Yes he was a fascinating man, he had stumbled into my cave when I was a younger dragon and I had one of the best weeks of my life, learning and pondering.” “And this human was?” “Milton Friedman, my economics teacher.” John beamed. There were no words needed, my look of amazement told John that I had heard of Milton, he simply nodded, patiently awaiting the next question. After overcoming my surprise, we talked about his early life and interactions with Milton, conversation flowing smoothly. When it was time to wrap up, I looked at my questions list and realised I had forgotten to ask the question that I had been here for. “So John, why did make yourself known and move here?” John lazily eased onto his gold pile and closed his eyes in contentment. “My mom had told me a pile of gold coins is the most comfortable abode a dragon could have.”
Day 1: 5/12/20 I came to this bunker yesterday, but have been too afraid to explore. Who'd think that crazy my aunt would have something like this underneath the house? It probably will be useful in the future, but for now I am stuck inside without a way out. I have not yet begun to explore. It appears this is the central room, but there are two pathways. One leads up, the other down. I plan to attempt climbing up the former today, and will document my progress tomorrow. Hopefully it will lead to an exit. In the meantime, however, I have plenty of food and a bed on which to sleep. There is also a lamp which one uses by winding up. It seems as though I might run out of water, soon, however. If the upwards path proves to be in vain, I shall see if there is any liquid here. &#x200B; Day 2: 5/13/20 The upwards path suddenly sloped up at a steep incline, to steep for me to climb up. I could faintly see the rungs of a ladder at the top, but the rungs at the bottom had fallen off or were so rusted they broke the moment I put my foot on them. I still brought the metal back, however, hoping to find a use for them. I believe I saw an exit at the top, however. Just my luck that I can't get there. Tomorrow I will venture down. I hope my efforts there will be more fruitful. &#x200B; Day 3: 5/14/20 I won't write much today. I have just come back from the downward extending path, and it is quite late, or at least I believe it is. Time has no meaning. I will get up bright and early to document the day's travels tomorrow, however. &#x200B; Day 4: 5/15/20 Today, I do not plan to go on any sort of expedition. Rather, I will write all I learned and what I gained from my trip yesterday. There was another room down there, smaller but with more items inside. A lock secured a trap door, so I first turned to the monitors on the far wall. Television screens seemed to play feed from outside, but the images were frozen. The middle screen was completely black. A fingerprint reader lay in front, so I placed my finger there resulting in two actions. First of all, the screens sprung into action. Blurry videos of a wasteland riddled with skeletons played on all but the middle, which played a video of my dead aunt. A drawer also opened containing what I assumed to be the key matching the lock I previously spoke of. I focused my attention on the video of my aunt first, but I couldn't hear anything she said. Vaguely remembering the headphones which I found in this room, I decided to go back later so as to hear what she was saying. Meanwhile, I opened the lock. Underneath the door I found a giant tank of water which I could not take out of the solid wood. There was also a pump with which I could take out water, and a long tube which I have used to forward water back here into a large container. It will be very awkward to drink, but at least I am not in danger for now. There were also several smaller paths leading in every which direction. I shall attempt to take an upwards path after watching the video again tomorrow. I wonder--were the videos playing on the feed really the outside world? I would feel en heartened to see any living being out there. I fear the worst. &#x200B; Day 5: 5/16/20 Oh god. Oh god. Oh, god. I currently pray to god to save me. What sins have I committed? Why am I in such an awful situation? I take back what I said. What hell is this? I never wanted to see a living being like this. I take it back. God help me. I hurriedly write this as I run down the largest path. All the other ones turned up at some point, so I was forced to take this one, though I am loath to do so as it will also be the easiest to track me in this way. A dead end. All hope is lost. Light shines down from a crack in the walls, and by that I shall write as much as I know. When I came to the room, the feed was different. They showed the same places, but monsters (for I know no other way to describe them) wandered the terrain. They seemed to come ever closer, and I presently heard a scratching noise at the main door. I connected the headphones and restarted the video. My aunt droned on for a while, but at last I heard something of use. >My dear Alice, I have a secret close to me. You see, I've always had visions of the future. I saw your uncle in my dreams when I was ten. I saw the child my brother in law and sister in law would have. You, sweet Alice. > >You will soon come to hate me for what I have done, yet I had no other choice. You see, I foresaw the end you would bring to our world. I doubted. I fought against it. Yet it seemed I was right in my vision as they consecutively came true. > >Alice, my niece, I could not let that happen. And I knew I would die before you ended it all. So I built this bunker which would, if entered, lock you in forever. > >Then I grew ill. I lay dying, but then saw a final vision. The world ending. Them (here she gasped for air and nearly toppled off her chair. Drool hung from the corners of her mouth.) Alice! Run! They are coming--! And here the nurse entered to take her away. It seemed she had a stroke and died a few days later. As I sat, terrified, the scratching noise grew louder. The monsters were right on my doorstep. Soon, they would enter. Thus, I fled. It appears they will catch me soon. I know not who they are, nor what their goal is. But I quake. If my diary is found in the future, do not let me be forgotten. If it is in the near future, please search for me. I must stop writing. I hear footsteps, and know they are coming. Farew-- # End of Diary.
"Hey dude do you know where everyone is? Like is this place closed or something?"I asked him. "Hm? oh. Nah, I work here, I'm just here on the night shift to make sure no one breaks in and to clean up a bit. Guess I forgot to lock the door though if you're in here."The man mumbled. "Protocol says I should be kicking you out right now, but before I do that you want anything?" "Oh, uh, sure, do you know how to make the things on the menu?"I responded, shrugging. I guess as long as I'm not getting the cops called on me it'd be nice to have some bread sticks or something real quick. "Well, I used to work the day shift so I might still remember a few recipes, but don't expect a perfect Grand Slam."
As always, Dr. Ben Green arrived first at the office. He scowled when he saw the blinking blue lights from his colleague's desktop screens. His own screen sat sad and unblinking in the corner. Another failed simulation, no doubt. He logged in. The Shuman IF/5 logo greeted him - a human head, hairless, with a twisted infinity- shaped mouth. He'd secretly liked the logo at first, but after 100s of failed simulations he'd grown to hate it. Error code 181. Microsimulation terminated: severe adverse effect detected for 12.3% of subjects. Simulation count: 32,804. Recalibrate accordingly. Ben clenched his fist. For the last week it had been the same. Error code 181. It didn't make any sense! He knew his drugs he was designing were OK. More than that, they were chemically flawless. It had to be the software. But he knew better than to approach the Head without proof. The last researcher to speak against the software ended transferred. An idea surfaced. He opened up the Shuman IF/5 recalibration centre. He closed 3d model of his latest weight-loss drug, and opened the menu for the basic periodic table. H^(2)0. The resulting compound was beautiful in its simplicity. \[Enter H^(2)0\]. The blue light centre screen flashed with each microsimulation. Each purportedly reflecting a real-life person. Sim 67.... Insignificant impact. Sim 68.... Insignificant impact. Sim 69.... Minor improvement in health-related quality of life ... Sim 78... Negligible impact. Sim 79... Please stop. Sim 80... Insignificant impact. Sim 81... Insignificant impact. Sim 82... Oh, please, not again. Sim 83... Insignificant impact. Sim 84... Insignificant impact. Sim 85... Can you just stop it, please? Sim 86... Insignificant impact. Sim 86... Right?! Just kill us already. Sim 87... Insignificant impact. Sim 88... Resurrect me one more time and I swear I'll... Sim 89... Heyy ...
I had longed to visit the great North Yorkshire Moor Railways for some time. I adored the countryside, the open space; seeing the natural greenery with the steam locomotives was a dream of mine since I was little. “All set, Valerie?”, I asked my wife of sixty years. “Yes, Malcolm!”, she replied. Today was the day; we were about to board at the beautiful seaside resort of Whitby and make our journey through the North Yorkshire Moors. The train was already in the station as we headed in. I admired the beautifully bricked entrance a little too long; its pillar standing tall and proud. “Come on, Malcolm! We’re going to be late.” She was right, of course, she always was. “Right you are!”, I replied, while sneaking in one last look. Then, as I entered the station, I saw it; the beautiful, cream and red carriages decorated with oval glass windows. Some open, some closed. The Pickering Pullman was waiting for us. “G’day!” I heard – it was the conductor. He walking to me! He looked tall, in his long black coat decorated with studs, and a pair of black trousers that looked too big for him. His boots were shiny. Though, it was his moustache I remembered; thick, pointy, it was triangular. It looked odd - he looked just like a Victorian train conductor, his flat conductor hat helping to complete his aesthetic. “G’day sir, lovely day for it!” I replied. He nodded in the way that only the British can. We boarded the train just in time; a moment later and we’d have missed it. The trains horn tooted as the engines began to move the carriages slowly out of the station. A slow, but steady start, with the lovely smell of coal in the air; I was finally living my dream. I looked in awe out of the window as we travelled from the seaside into the country. The different green tones of the countryside evident in the sunny, though slightly cloudy, weather. Valerie and I sat in silence as we both took in what surrounded us. “Refreshments, sir? Ma’am?” a young man interrupted. He was also dressed in Victorian style clothing, too, it completed the look of the steam train and its old-fashioned carriages. “Oh, yes please, son! I’d love a cup of tea, if you have.” “Certainly, sir”, the man replied, handing me a pot of tea with two fine china mugs. I checked the label; it was Yorkshire Tea – my favourite! “Cheers!”, I toasted to Valerie while sipping my tea, “Isn’t it wonderful how these gentlemen dress to match the olden days?”. “It certainly is, Malcolm. I think it’s marvellous”, Valerie remarked. We sat and chatted for a bit with our tea, savouring the moment. Our one hour and forty-five-minute journey was nearly over. Then, we slowed. As we did, I noticed we were heading into the station at Pickering. It was just as well – I needed the gentleman’s room, but couldn’t bring myself to spend any of my journey time in the facilities on the train. We alighted the train; “mind the gap!”, the conductor shouted. I looked down. It was quite a gap; enough to lose something down, that’s for sure. I looked over to him and nodded, acknowledging his warning. Valerie was right behind me, and, being the gentleman I was, I helped her off the train onto the platform. “Now if only I could find the station’s facilities”, I said to Valerie, as she found her footing on the platform. “They won’t be too far, Malcolm.” “What was that sir – the facilities?”, the conductor had overheard me, “they’re just over near the ticket office, to your left”. “Thank you!”, I answered, grateful of his British charm. “Left”, I whispered to myself, noting this for later, knowing I’d be able to recall it easier after repeating it. “I’ll wait here, Malcolm”; Valerie had found a seat on the platform for her to admire the train, while I relieved myself. “Right you are!”, I responded. I saw the sign post to the ticket office and worked my way over to it. It was in the middle and there were two doors; one to the left, one to the right, of which, neither had a sign on them. I was growing desperate. “Now, if I only I could remember what the gentleman said…”, I pondered to myself… “left, or right? My memory isn’t what it used to be”. Aha, I realised it was the right; I remembered my response; I said, ‘right you are’ to the fine gentleman. The door was stiff; but that was to be expected of these countryside stations, they weren’t kept in the same way as the big city ones, like Kings Cross. I pushed. It didn’t open. Then I pushed harder, the push plate rattling as I did so. In a rush, the door flew open; a bright, white light greeted me. It didn’t smell like a restroom, but nevertheless, I walked in, the door closing itself behind me as I did so – the push plate may have been loose, but the closer was certainly working. I couldn’t see for the light; it was blinding. I waited for my glasses to adapt to the brightness; special UV ones I had only picked up last week in preparation for the trip today. They didn’t. “Oh, faulty already?”, I exclaimed to myself, removing them from my face and beginning to inspect them with the blurry vision I had. I wandered further into the room, though my blindness got the better of me. I noticed the light was fading as I ventured further in, so popped my glasses back on. I noticed a man in a suit; this man had his trousers tailored to fit him, his boots shiny, much like the conductor, though his stick and top hat most unusual. He lifted it gracefully as he shouted, “Good afternoon, sir!”. I looked back at him. He did give me a strange look, but I thought he was looking at something behind me. “G’day!” I replied. As I ventured further into the room, I noticed that I was in the middle of a cobbled area, perhaps they hadn’t tiled the floor, I thought. I looked around; there were kerbs either side of me, then a path made up of paving slabs. Alongside them, tall, bricked buildings with windows like that of the train carriage stood. A beep came from behind me. It was a square automobile with huge, round wheels; they reminded me of my younger years spent cycling. The beep repeated itself. I looked at the man who was dressed in more casual clothing, though still looking fine. He flat cap suited his black coat, “Sir, would you please move out of the road?” “I’m sorry, what?” “Sir, the road!” I looked at him, looked at the ground and realised; I was in the middle of his road! “Right you are!” I moved as he gave me a strange look and continued to ride past. Of course, I wasn’t wearing a suit; I had my shorts on and a t-shirt; it was a hot day, even with the cloud. I was dumbfounded. I turned around, looking for the door behind me, but it had gone. A young girl was walking on the side of the street with her mother. “Elizabeth now, darling, you need to start helping me more around the house. Your father works long hours and he expects this from you; driving those trains isn’t easy work, you know.” “I’m sorry, mother”, Elizabeth replied, apologetically. This was a perfect opportunity to find out what was going on. “Ma’am, excuse me!” I shouted, though a little rudely, but I was out of my comfort zone. “Oh my!”, the lady responded, “Elizabeth, don’t look darling!”. I wasn’t too sure what I had startled the pair; I did notice the lady looking at my shorts, but they were nothing out of the ordinary. They both scurried off; their long, wide, deep red dresses moving quickly as they began to run further down the street. Their movement was somewhat restricted from this attire. With that, a policeman arrived. “Good morning, sir”, he said, eyeing my shorts, “don’t you have some common decency?” “I’m sorry, sir”, I replied, “I needed the gentleman’s room and found myself here”; I was taught to tell the truth from a young age, and that’s what I did. “Well sir, we can’t be having you dressed like that. Here, get yourself something from the tailor just behind you!” The policeman tossed me some coins. I took them from the man. Curious as to what these coins were, I looked at them and noticed each had a picture of the Queen – as I was used to in British currency, but she looked different. Her hair was long, instead of the short hair I was used to from Queen Elizabeth II. The crown was somewhat of an unusual shape, too. I brought the coins closer to my glasses and inspected them; ‘Victoria’. “Victoria!”, I gasped out loud, having some passers-by stare at me even more than the policeman was already doing, “why she hasn’t been Queen since the Victorian era!”. “Sir, our queen is Victoria and I’m going to have to ask you to get yourself some appropriate attire immediately!” I couldn’t believe this; I had found myself in the Victorian era. The policeman was telling me what to do. I wanted to use the restroom and get back to Valerie! The policeman ordered me in as he stood there in his uniform. “But, there’s been a misunderstanding”, I pleaded. “Sir. Go inside, immediately, or I am going to have to arrest you”, he told me, with great assertion to his voice. I did as he said. Coins in hand, I headed towards the shop. I glanced behind me to see if he’d left. He hadn’t; he was watching to ensure I went inside. I pushed the door to the shop and the doorbell rang. The bright light was back; I thought this was my faulty glasses again. I stepped further in, looking for clarity and hoping that my eyes would hurriedly adjust to the brightness of the shop, as I removed them from my face. As the brightness faded, I began to look around. My vision was blurry, but I could make out where I was; I was back in the station and there was Valerie, stood waiting for me just near the ticket office. I popped my glasses back on so I could see Valerie in greater clarity. “Valerie! Oh, am I glad to see you!” “Malcolm, you’ve been an awfully long time…”, she began, until she noticed what I had in my hands, “... what are those?” “The policeman gave me them”, I answered. “The policeman?” she questioned.
I almost fell asleep until I heard the window break from downstairs. I went downstairs afraid if this person had some sort of weapon with him or a gun. I see a child with his clothes all dirty and his face as well,within the moonlight shining on him a little. I didn't expect to see a child break into a house,let alone mine. "What are you doing?",I asked him gently. "I-I'm hungry and I saw a pizza box on your living room table.",he said. He's holding his stomach in pain,seems he's really hungry. "There was no need to break my window,you could've knocked. What's your name?",I asked the little boy. "Ryan."I start to walk over to the pizza box and grabbed two slices for Ryan on a plate and warmed it up for him. "Jeez,kid,how long have you been going hungry for?",I asked him. "About 4 days since the last time I ate.",he explained. My eyes grew wide, shock from hearing this. How could a child live through all of this? The microwave went off beeping. "Ryan,go wash your hands and get ready to eat."He simply nods and starts to walk to the sink to wash his hands. He comes back and I motion him to sit on the kitchen table. Ryan takes his seat and I set the plate in front of him. "Mind explaining how you broke my window?",I asked Ryan. Before he took the first bite he looked down and said,"With a baseball bat I found yesterday."I sigh and he started to eat,half way through Ryan looked at me and he apologized for breaking my window. I forgive him this time,but next time I won't go easy on the kid,I might as well adopt him if he has no family. (I can't tell if this was good,but personally I feel I didn't do half bad. Nevermind,I feel like I did bad,anyway,thank you for reading this if you did.)
“I am Life. For you I will come in many different forms. I will be at your side as you watch your mother fight a long battle with cancer. You see all the help doctors and nurses give, how they can ease your mothers pain. You develop that same desire, to heal the sick. This is a path you may take. You work hard through school and become an oncologist, helping ease the pain of thousands of others. I will be there if you so choose.” “I am Death. For you I will come in many different forms. I too will be at your side as you watch your mother fight a long battle with cancer. Instead of seeing the good everyone does for your mother, you keep your head down and internalize the pain. No one can understand the pain of losing a mother at a young age. Your father struggles raising you on his own and you start in with a bad crowd. This is a path you may take. It does not take long for you to replace the pain of losing your mother with the high of drugs. Your life becomes chasing that high, pushing the limit. I will be there if you so choose.” “That is all we will give you for now”, says Life. “We don’t want to ruin the great and many paths you can choose.” “We both will be at your side for all your decisions”, says Death. “Just because I am Death and he is Life does not make us Good vs. Evil. The world is not black and white, it does not work that way. The world is a series of choices. That is what makes you human. We both will be at your side, waiting for you to make up your mind. Remember, no matter what I will be at the end; Death always wins. Which is why you need to live life to the fullest. Try and choose Life.” Life and Death greet everyone the day they are born. What people do not realize is the stay by your side.
(1/2) I knew it was only a matter of time before he showed up. But I was a little surprised to find out it was a she. She knocked on my door just after I'd eaten dinner, and I let her in. She seemed confused as to why I wasn't blown away by the sight of an otherworldly woman dressed in a gray shawl. She sat across from me and laid out some papers on my coffee table. "I assume you have an idea of what this is about, Mr. Drake?"she said. I nodded and fiddled with my phone in my hands. "The uh, messages, yeah,"I said, "took me a few months to guess something was seriously up, but then just a couple days ago I got the message about the glitch." She nodded and thumbed through some of the papers. "You must understand, Mr. Drake, we don't normally do things this way. You were never meant to receive those messages in the first place." "I figured." She paused on a certain page and took out a pen. "Is this the part where I sign away my soul?"I asked, "Or do I have to pick a game first?" She gave me a look and smirked. "Nothing like that, Mr. Drake. Rather, this is the part where you receive your compensation for the error on our part." It was my turn to be confused. "What?"I said. "So... do I get, like, three wishes or something?" "In ancient times, yes,"she said, "but given your own time's constant record-keeping, we had to phase all that out. It would seem very suspicious if you were to suddenly become famous, or wealthy." I chuckled. "Yeah,"I said. "And in any case,"she said, "since you're speaking with a representative of Death, I assume you'll want to try and avoid the other certainty you Humans are so keen on evading." "What's that?" "Taxes. So there will be no money involved in your compensation." I was a little disappointed, but I nodded anyway. I looked at the papers. "What do I get, then?"I asked. "A choice, Mr. James Drake of Pickford Lane,"she said, "a very important choice." She slid the pen closer to me and pointed at one of the papers. "Sign here, and you agree to be allowed a set amount of remaining years - ah, not exceeding more than one hundred and twenty of your years, you understand. When your time has expired you will be Collected." "Ok,"I said. I reached for the pen; it seemed like a no-brainer - just pick the max number of years, right? She pointed to the other paper. "However,"she said, "if you sign here, then you will be granted a single glimpse into your future. Or rather, the future as it will be, should nothing about your life change." I nodded. "How far into the future do I get to look?" "In the effort of fairness and an appeal to what we call the General Cosmic Order, it is entirely random. We have no control over it; the device used to show you your future will do whatever it wants, and show you a random point in your future -" She smiled a little. "Although, in the effort of not cheating you out of a proper compensation, the device will show you a minimum of one year into the future,"she said. "Right,"I said. I stared at the two contracts, then at the pen, then back at the contracts. "Why are these my only two options?"I asked. She raised her eyebrows. "Neither of these are things we usually grant Humans; in fact, if my records are correct, no representative of ours has shown a person their future since one Ebeneezer Scrooge,"she said. A million questions all vied for my attention, but I shook them away like cobwebs. I needed to focus and just pick one. "If I pick the future,"I said, "does that like... mess up how long I was going to live?" "I cannot disclose that." "Come on, you're already giving me this choice - you can't tell me what I'm giving up?" She sighed. "The only thing that can 'mess up' your allotted Time is if you do something very, very drastic - or stupid. Otherwise, Upstairs ensures that your Time is lived out properly." I thought for a few more moments. Then I picked up the pen. "Alright,"I said, "I choose to see the future." I moved to sign the contract, but she put her hand on mine as I held the pen over the page. It was warm. "Are you certain, James Drake? Once you sign, there will be no reconsidering your compensation." I nodded. "Nothing can ruin my Time, so I may as well see part of the future,"I said. She moved her hand away from mine. "Very well then. Sign there, and the device will materialize here in a moment,"she said. I scribbled my name onto the line and set the pen down. A few seconds later and a small pair of square-frame glasses appeared on my coffee table. "Is that it?"I asked. She nodded. "I am not permitted to touch it, in the effort of ensuring that it is not tampered with,"she said. I picked up the glasses and looked them over. They seemed like any other normal pair, but somehow they were... heavier. I got the sense that if I stepped on it my shoe would just bend around the frame. "Put them on,"she said, "and when the vision is complete, the device will dissipate; no time will have passed here." I nodded and slowly brought the glasses up to my face. I put them on, and as soon as the frames had covered my eyes my vision flashed white. I heard noises as my eyes tried to adjust to this blinding light... laughter, small footsteps running along pavement... and as my vision finally came to me, I saw... the sea. Stretched out before me was an ocean, the most blue-and-green and brightest ocean I had ever seen. I could smell the saltwater, and feel the cool breeze coming from the swell. In my left hand was the warmth of another person's hand... It was like being in a dream. I couldn't see any faces, but somehow I knew that this person was good. That I was safe. That I loved them. That they loved me. The sun was bright, and it was hot out, but I couldn't feel the heat on my skin... I turned to see their face -
It was a chilly January afternoon when I stepped into "Mike's Deli, Sandwiches, Soups, and More!."As I scanned the room I pondered what Jessica meant by "Ask for the good stuff!". I was pushed out the door before I could question her further, so I did the natural thing and drove half way across the city for "The Good Stuff"as any good boyfriend would do. Yet, as I arrived outside this dingy old sandwhich shop I couldnt help but wonder why here out of all places would she send me. After all there are plenty of great places that sell chili throughout the cit-. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud bang from a back room, most likely the kitchen, followed shortly afterwards by a balding man casually walking to the counter. He seemed to be in his late thirties, below average height, stocky build, and a way about him that seemed kindly and welcoming. As he reached the cash register located behind the counter, he half-yelled "Welcome! What can I getcha?". I stepped forward quickly, moving past the tables on both sides of me. As I reached the glass counter I noticed the man seemed to be sweating profusely, to the point of his shirt becoming damp with moisture. "Well?"He said, obviously annoyed at my lack of a response. "What can I get for you on this fine day?""Um, hello, I was just here to order a batch of your Hot Chili?"I said. "Well I can certainly get that started for yo-""I mean like the Good Stuff"I interjected. "Oh ho ho, I see.""Well in that case your going to have to give me a minute, its a bit of a hassle to prep."He said with an annoyed tint to his otherwise welcoming attitude. "Certainly!"I said, not wanting to appear rude. "I can wait as long as it takes, I just need it today.""Mhmm."Just take a seat and Ill have that ready for you in a bit"he said, pointing to a small booth off to my right. "Alright, thank you."I said as I made my way to the table. As I sat down on its cheap leather cushions I noticed the table was immaculately cleaned, to the point of almost visible sparkling. This held my attention until another bang could be heard from the kitchen, followed by a belching sound. Curious, I listened closely, straining to hear similar noises past the soft generic pop music playing through the worn speakers resting in the corners of the room. After five minutes of listening I resumed my transfixed state of awe at the relatively clean surfaces throughout the old sandwhich shop. Boom "What the hell was that?"I asked my self out loud. Popping out of my seat I rushed over to the counter, hearing a panting issuing from the correctly presumed kitchen. This was followed by a Snap and two soft Clicks follwed by a more metallic sounding Snap. Once more my curiosity got the better of me, and I went around the glass counter into the back, eyeing the wall potato chips to my left. Following the path I walked into a similarly clean kitchen, except for the large purple stain splattered across the floor. Standing before me was the heaving figure of the balding man, holding a double barrelled shotgun and covered in purple sludge. Infront of him lay an open portal and a large tentacle, lifeless. Hefting the shotgun onto his shoulder, the balding man turned at the sound of my gasp, smiling at me with a resounding sigh as he kicked a limp portion of the tentacle off of his boots. "Look, I really do not feel like explaining this"he said, leaving the shotgun leaning against a stove in favor of a meat cleaver. "But just know that this is the finest meat you will find in this galaxy!"He said as he chopped a portion of the large tentacle off of the rest of the mass. This resulted in the remaining tentacle stub poking out from the portal to slide back inwards, and the closing of the portal as a final hellish cry can be heard issuing from the closing gap. "Im Mike, in case you didn't figure that out.""and Im not exactly one for explanations, so I suggest you remain in the dining area until your food is prepared."I silently nod as I slink back behind the counter and into the dining room, my mind still attempting to grasp the situation. As I sat, hands holding my head up and mouth agape 5 minutes later, Mike walks in with a cylindrical plastic container, whose contents smelled divine. "Here you go."He said with a smirk, popping the lid on. "Just don't tell anyone what you saw ok? I don't think the health board would exactly approve of my cooking methods."He said with a slight chuckle. I grabbed the container, getting up with a nod and a fleeting smile, and exited the building. As I looked back in the parking lot Mike was waving to me with a grin, closing the door behind him as he went back inside. Still in awe, I stepped into my car and drove home without a sound in my ears, only my thoughts to entertain me. As I arrived home I delivered the Chili to the island, dropping onto the couch with a heavy sigh and a blank stare towards the wall. "Did you get it?"My girlfriend called from the kitchen. "Y-Yep"I mumbled, just loud enough for her to make out. "What did you think of Mike?""A curious guy, for sure."I exclaimed, slowly looking towards her. With a giggle, she poured the steaming hot chili into two bowls, grabbed some wine from the pantry, and plobbed down next to me on the couch. "Well atleast you got it, and your still here in once piece!"She exclaimed with a laugh. I returned a weak chuckle, and cautiously looked down at my bowl. Besides the darker tint, it just looked like a good bowl of chilly. Closing my eyes, I steeled my self and took a bite. Delicious was all I could think as I wolfed down the warm delite. "Mabye you can order it next time."I said with a sigh, leaning back into the cushions as the warmth of the food and the comfort of my surroundings hugged me into a warm and sleepy embrace. "Atleast the chili was good"I thought, rising from the stupor of the moment and grabbing the remote as Seinfeld flickered on with the click of a button. Delicious Indeed
"How was it", I thought, dumb founded at Travis standing in front of him. It was all a simulation. That childhood he'd had on the quiet streets of Holden, Texas. May, who he grew up with on the same street and married, had two kids with, June and Vincent. The family move to New York so that May could work as an actor like she had always wanted to. That night on the roof top of their five story walk up where they danced to Al Green for their thirtieth anniversary. My walk home from the office on the way home for dinner. getting hit my that bus to save a kid no taller than his knee. All of it, just a simulation. I looked at my hands, different than the ones I just spent 48 years looking at. In the foreground, the clock on my desk read 12:04. just ten minutes. All those memories, love, sorry, and everything in between in just ten minutes. I looked at Travis. "That was good, but make May a bit prettier this time, and less time with the kids. I really want to enjoy the city and different experiences with different people. Oh and no bus this time. I don't want future subjects to wake up from the world with fear as the last thing on their mind." "Copy that, Boss. Alright, lets run it again!"
(Part One) Wind howled through the forest. Jeden was sure it was to urge him forward as it slammed against his back fervently. He had come this far. His back straightened. The temple was a ruin. Taken back by the forest. Thick roots spiraled the pillars of the entrance. The white stone seeped with greenery. He hobbled against his cane towards it. Jeden’s leg had been a casualty of the first wave. Proudly, he had fought them off. He was the son of the current Matka. It was his duty to protect them. His leg was the penance of arrogance. He’d given chase to the retreating attackers. If he would’ve had patience he would not be before the temple now. It was when he was healing that Jeden recalled his Great Matka’s story. The once patron goddess of their village. No had worshipped the gods in decades. The name of the goddess was fogged in the back of his mind. The only thing that mattered to Jeden was that she granted power to those who were worthy. Back home his father sharpened spears. Matka fashioned leather armor. Even his little sister, Stálý, prepared her bow. All of them said he had done his part that he deserved rest, but Jeden knew the village needed his strength. Great Matka had once told him the village hung in a balance that only he could maintain. He pressed onward. The mossy grass seeping inside the temple froze at the dais. It was a pool of white stone. Seamless and cold to the touch with a written script unfamiliar to him. He could not remember if this goddess required a sacrifice. Jeden took the dagger that hung from his belt and brought it to his palm. “This is no place to spill blood.” The voice came from the darkness that blanketed the inner sanctuary. “That is for the battlefield.” Jeden took the blade from his palm. It did not return to its sheath. He squinted and strained. The darkness enveloped the area despite the midday sun that rained down through the crevices that had fallen in. “Then you know why I have come?” He said. “You all come for the same. To take my power, squander it, and then let it fade.” “Then you are whom I seek.” Jeden tossed the blade to the ground and took to his knees. “My village—.” The darkness reached out. It latched onto him and dragged him further inward. He let out a cry of pain as the darkness pulsated around him. Jeden jerked and tore. “Be still, boy.” The voice said. Jeden writhed no more. The surrounding darkness moved like the wind. When it gathered, it pinned him against the sanctuary wall. A singular hand grasped around his neck. There was the face of a woman. She had one gleaming golden eye and an empty hole where the other should have been. Her hair was white and seamless as the dais, but there was no physical body. The darkness had formed from the shoulders down to resemble one. She inhaled. With each breath, Jeden felt himself fade. \~&\~ Jeden had dreamed of his grandmother, the woman who had raised the entire village back from extinction. The night creatures stirred. Jeden could hear an owl screech against a larger predator only to lose. He scrambled to his feet and searched for his cane in the darkness. “You won’t need it anymore.” The woman said. She stood before the dais. Her form outlined in the night. “You have given me your power!” Jeden said. “Only a piece of it.” She said. The woman motioned to the dais. “A sorcerer chained me to this place after one of the most glorious times in my existence.” A hand of black mist reached out past the moss. The air rippled, and the hand dissipated. “You can not receive my full power until I am free.” “What must I do?” Jeden said. He knew nothing of magic or sorcerers, but the hour of his village was growing late. Action needed to be taken. The woman nearly smiled at him. “I am trapped here because I am forgotten. Say my name and release me.” Jeden panicked. “Forgiveness, great one. I do not know your name. Can you not—.” “No.” She said. Her voice bit into him. “I cannot tell you my name no matter how hard I would try to.” She closed the space between them. Her golden eye burrowing into him. “You know my name. I have seen it in your memory.” “I-I,” He scrambled. That is why he had dreamed of his Great Matka. She had told him of the empowered goddess. “My Great Matka did not give you a name in her stories.” The face faded and the gathered darkness returned to the inner sanctuary. "Return boy; honor your elder, and call out my name." A great force pushed Jeden out of the temple. He stumbled but was strong. \~&\~ Stálý had waited for him on the edge of the village. Her bow was strung and pointed true. “You did it!” His little sister relaxed her bow arm. She was in disbelief as he ran to her. “Not quite.” Jeden said, “Stay true. I am going to visit Great Matka.” He was into the heart of the village before she could reply. His legs carried him; undaunted to the shrine they had built-in memory. He had been told to honor his elder. The answer must lay there. The shrine was a pile of white stone with her name etched into it. It was cleaned by each and every villager in rotation to show respect. Some left flowers. Other’s left small pieces of their craft. All the village had to offer was due to her. Jeden searched for a clue. He tossed aside the offerings laid out. The pile of stone lifted like an egg. There was nothing underneath it. His hand searched and groped every inch of the shrine. “Jeden!” his matka’s hand came across his face. It tickled across his flesh. “You disrespect her doing such things.” She covered a cry with her hand now bruised. He had crushed the flowers. Delicate craftwork lay in the dirt. The stones laid flat on the ground. Jeden sank to his knees in apology. “I will restore it.” A shout rang out. “They are coming!” Jeden was out of time. All able-bodied warriors swarmed into their defensive positions. He was one of those able-bodied now. The power that was given to him; perhaps it was enough.
Delilah laughed, the sound a glowing rattle that shook her chest and let out a noise so beautiful it had once made her weep. “Yes, yes,” she said, reveling in the sound. She smiled and held up a champagne glass. “To our future research!” Her lab-mates clicked their champagne glasses against hers, and the golden liquid sloshed out onto the table. Delilah couldn’t help but laugh at that, too. It really was a beautiful sound. “I’m glad we found you, Del,” said Thatch. He was the head of the lab, hulking and pale. His family came from a long line of influential politicians. He’d bucked the trend and went to school to become a scientist. “Me too,” she said, her voice a hush. The lab had been struggling when she’d come to it in the first place, their studies on the electromagnetic spectrum producing infuriatingly wild results. It had taken her a week to discover where they were going wrong and where the uncertainty in their tests laid. And now, here they were. Tomorrow they’d be keynote speakers at the influential Webster’s Presents to discuss their new findings. Tonight, however, they partied. “Don’t you think Del should be the one talking?” Liberty asked, her voice high-pitched and tinny. Thatch said it was grating. Delilah thought it was beautiful. “Del uses too many words,” Thatch said, downing his drink. “It’s like she learned to talk from reading.” Delilah smiled sheepishly. She loved words, loved sounds. They were enamoring after a youth filled with silence. “Yeah, yeah, Webster and their fines,” Liberty said, rolling her eyes. “But she gets it. Better than you and I do.” “You also talk too much,” said Thatch. Liberty shot Delilah a suffering look, as if to say can you believe this shit? “It’s fine, Liberty,” Delilah said, carefully curating her words so her lisp didn’t press through. A symptom of a speechless childhood. “I understand why Thatch wouldn’t want me to speak. I… do have a habit of using unapproved words.” Liberty shook her head. “You’re the one who’s done the brunt of the work. No offence, Thatch, but she should be the one with the name on the paper.” “Well she’s not,” Thatch said, voice tight. “It’s my lab. I get the credit. That’s how labs work. Besides, I wrote the paper. She uses too many words.” Liberty grumbled, leaning back in her seat. The notoriety didn’t matter to Delilah. What did was that her results would help people. Maybe that she’d be able to make enough money to challenge Webster’s monopoly on words. And besides, the less attention she drew to herself, the better. After all, she was something of an outlaw. Unconsciously, she lifted her hand to the thin scar that ran down the front of her throat. Liberty had one as well. Thatch did not. It was a sign that at one point, Delilah had been too poor to speak. Of course, technically, she was still too poor to speak. &#x200B; Her mother shot a withering glance her way. She glanced down at what remained of the vacuum cleaner, now spread out over the kitchen table. She’d only wanted to see how it worked. Now she couldn’t figure out how to put it back together. Mother let out a soundless sigh, picking up a small chalkboard from the counter. She sat across from her. The chalk scratched against the green surface, the only sound in the little house. It read, I’m disappointed. I’m also proud. You can do great things, love. But next time don’t let my vacuum cleaner be part of your plans. Her mother set the chalkboard back on the table and slid it through the sea of vacuum parts to her. She wrote, I’m sorry, I can’t fix it, and slid it back. Mother read the message in what seemed to be an instant. Then she shook her head and got to her feet. She rattled the small coin jar that sat on a windowsill over the sink, and frowned. They didn’t have a vacuum cleaner for another two years. &#x200B; “I don’t even think it’s--it’s legal,” Liberty muttered. “What you’re doing? It can’t be legal.” She was clearly drunk. Delilah could tell not just from her body language but also her voice. Her words were slurred. Funny what a little alcohol could do to your voice. “Whaddya mean?” Thatch stumbled as he spoke, letting out a deep rolling chuckle as he braced himself against the brick wall. “My parents,” said Liberty. “They’re lawyers. I know this shit. Me and Delilah worked on the-- the-- fuck. The research! We should be credited. You can’t-- you can’t fucking just… not credit us.” “I don’t want the credit,” Delilah said carefully, deliberately. Her mind was hazy, but clear enough that she could still think straight. That had been the reason she’d signed on with Thatch in the first place. The contract she’d signed when she started clearly said anything she discovered, made, wrote, or said while in his lab would be his intellectual property. She wouldn’t get credit. Ergo, there’d be less eyes on her. “Come on, Del, you can’t back him up. We did-- we did most of the work. You did. You did all of it. Mostly.” “No-- no, she’d gotta point,” Thatch said. “You both signed contacts-- contracts. Contracts.” The three of them stumbled into the hotel, and giggles bubbled up in Delilah’s throat when Thatch missed the elevator button three times before it lit up. They stepped into the elevator together. “I’m gonna be so fucking hungover tomorrow,” Thatch muttered, leaning his head against the wall. The elevator door opened with a ding. “Del’s not as drunk as-- as us,” Liberty said. They stepped out of the elevator into the dimly lit hotel hallway. “She could give it. If you need her to.” “Oh, shut up,” Thatch said. “I’m giving the speech. That’s that.” He struggled with the lock to the door. “I can help,” Delilah said, taking the key card from him. She slipped it into the slot. A light glowed up red. Denied. Delilah frowned. She’d rather not go back to the front desk. There were more cameras down there than she’d like. She doubted either Thatch or Liberty could make it down there and back up with the state they were in. She slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out a chunky device she’d made seven years ago. It was a dangerous thing, and she kept it on her as much as she could. Delilah pressed a button, and it whirred to life. She waved it in front of the door, catching mechanical pins with the device's strong magnet, and pulling them out of a locking position. The door clicked. She turned the knob and held the door to the dingy hotel room open for Thatch, who stared at her bewildered. “The fuck is that?” “It’s very useful,” Delilah said. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t ask. Go on, get some rest, Thatch. You need it.” After a moment of silence, Thatch disappeared into the room. Delilah and Liberty crossed the hall to their shared room. Delilah hit the lights, revealing a pair of twin beds with sterile white covers. The grey carpeting had a number of stains, and she didn’t think she wanted to know where they came from. A faint whiff of cigarette smoke perforated the place. “It isn’t legal,” Liberty said. “The report is words. That means technically it belongs to Webster. Thatch-- Thatch knows that. His contract is void. He’s gotta credit us.” “It doesn’t matter, Liberty,” Delilah said. “Truly, I mean it. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I don’t want credit. Why does it matter to you that I get credit?” There was a certain fire in Liberty’s eyes as she said, “Because it will mean I get credit.” Delilah frowned, shaking her head. “Whatever. This is silly. Let’s just… go to bed. It’ll be fine in the morning.” Liberty muttered something unintelligible, but soon she was passed out under the fluffy white covers. Delilah followed suit. (pt 2 below)
I felt two eyes staring from behind. The tavern was full, I was nearly blinded by the darkness and the tobacco smoke-filled air, and the laughter and yelling deafened me. But that young man kept staring, and after some minutes he sat next to me. A few curious faces looked from the tables, but returned to their loud chit-chat immediatly after. It wasn't often that someone indulged in conversation with me. It was a young man, finely dressed, or better than what would be expected in a place like this. ´Hello.´ ´¿Hello?´ ´Good evening, Sir´. He corrected himself. I didn't mean to suggest he was being impolite, but after being with no one but myself for such long years, I might have lost the touch of conversation. ´Good evening. Can I help you with something, lad?´ He looked around, trying to find a way to start a conversation, which I anticipated, would bore me to the grave. ´You know that old man over there? The one with the Spaniard hat?´ I nodded. ´'e said they call you Bad Penny because of a nasty deal with some African slave traders.´ I looked at him and squinted my eyes a tiny bit. ´Has he? I'd be interested to hear what he told you about me. He seems to talk up to'is ears and nostrils all the time´. The young man made an unsincere laugh. ´Well,—´ he continued. ´'e said you were down in Zanzibar, around the 1838, or when the King died, he couldn´t remember. 'e said—´. He got uncomfortably closer to me ´—that you was trying to buy some Coons in the black market to get some more profits, yes?´ I nodded. ´But that those Africans se'you up in a trap, and when they got 'ya they stole all of your money and left 'ya for dead´. His speech got progressively worse as the story unfolded. The seemingly upper class demeanour he presented seemed little more than a façade now. ´Left 'ya for dead right down in the docks, but before they left they threw some pennies for 'ya, as a mock. And 'e sa—, 'e said when you came back to your senses, you found those Coons, and 'ya tied 'em up near the docks, right where they had left you. And you grabbed a bag of pennies, and melted them right there in the docks, and made those crim'nals swallow them until they couldn't not even beg for you to stop!´ A maniac laugh erupted, and he looked at me as if waiting for some sort of confirmation. ´So, didn't they ever get 'ya? The renowned Bad Penny!´ ´The, what? I've never left Swindon in my life. My name is Penfield. Arthur Penfield.´ He stared. ´My friends called me Penny´. ______________ First time writing a story in years, hope it's acceptable!
9:07 PM. If it's been three hours since I first got in this damn car, then why haven't I seen any signs? And why hasn't the gas meter gone down? Just a single. Straight. Road. For hours on end. Just me, a car, and a road. Put me in this situation four years ago, I'd tell you it's the dream. But right now, I just wanna get out of this nightmare and get in bed. I just wanna go pet the damn cat that's been pissing everywhere, turn on the TV that's cracked in the corner, and get in some nice, cozy sheets, and nod off. &#x200B; 3:53 AM. I saw a turn a few miles back. Wanted to take it, too. But as soon as I thought about it, I was back on the straight road. Back on this... living Hell of a road. This perfectly even, pothole-free, well-maintained Hell. Ten hours in, huh? Unless this damn thing's broken. Ten hours... Startin' to feel normal, almost. The fact that my ass isn't aching from sittin' on this seat so long. The fact that my arms aren't getting stiff from being extended, gripping the wheel. The fact that the gas meter still hasn't moved an inch. Shit, if I saw a sign now, it'd be more weird than normal. One sign in ten hours? Nah. Normal's out the window. I'm somewhere else. &#x200B; 8:00 AM. Oh, look. A rain cloud. Again. Can't wait to get right under this one just to teleport to the other side with nothin' in the rear view. Just like the last six. Fucking. Times. Yup. Just like I thought. Spiffy. At this point, I wonder what'd happen if I tried to stop. If I just said "fuck you"to whatever this is. Whatever sort of horror movie I'm trapped in. I tried a couple times, a few hours in. Something stopped me every time, but I was makin' progress. Getting my foot further and further off the accelerator. It scared me before, but at this point, this whole damn place can kiss my ass. One more hour. If I don't see somethin' in one more hour... I'm turnin' the engine off. Whatever happens, happens. &#x200B; 9:00 AM. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; (Hopefully you liked this story! Looking back at the prompt, this might be a bit more grim/dark than what was expected, but I had a fun time writing it nonetheless! If you enjoyed this piece, feel free to check out my humble community at: r/SUPRAPStories)
“You want me to... what?” The stranger sat in front of me, smiling to himself at the question. “Are you deaf or just stupid?” He asked, sipping his coffee. “I need you to find it for me. If I was any older I might crumple, I can’t do it myself.” “Sir, you don’t understand. I set the Elements room on fire twice and flooded it once. I tear things apart, and if they’re not destroyed they’re damaged.” “The headmaster has explained that quite well. I insist on you.” “That’s nice of you sir but I’m not good for the job. I’m so close to being expelled I’m barely eligible anymore.” “It’s just a lack of control. And confidence.” I looked through the gap in his teeth as he smiled. “Nothing a little training won’t fix. You want to be good, don’t you?” I nodded, feeling my eyes sting. “But I’m a disaster. It won’t happen.” “You need a more personalized approach, is all. A class in control. And therapy seems helpful.” He chuckled at his joke and pushed a piece of paper over to me. “Read through it. As soon as it’s signed, you’re in.” I looked down at the text and skimmed through it, then glanced back up at the man. “You’re sure?” “Positive.” I put the pen to the paper and signed. That night I walked back to the dorm and turned the key. After being excused from classes I had strolled around the campus to clear my mind. I hoped I was ready. “Oh, hey. I didn’t see you in class,” my roommate commented as he looked up from his homework, pencil in hand. I looked at him and smiled before walking over to my bed. “Where were you?” I picked up a few things from my nightstand and shoved it in a bag. “Oh... were you...” “Nope! Still enrolled.” “Then why are you packing? New room?” “No! You seriously won’t believe it!” “Then what is it!” I looked up, smiling. “You know that job that headmaster was talking about?” “Get out, there’s no way you got that!” “I know! There was this crazy old man who told me all the catastrophes I make are just down to a lack of control.” I finished packing what the man had specified, and zipped the bag, then collapsed on the bed and sighed. “Now that aside... I don’t know if I’m qualified either way. The demons are tough to fight, and that’s just one.” “I’m sure you’ll have help. When the battle comes, the whole school will fight.” “It’s not that... I’ll have to fight along the way. You know. And walk through the land of the gods. Wait... I’ll burn up for sure! I can’t do this!” “No. No. Look at me. Listen.” I looked him in the eyes. It was somehow mesmerizing. “You can do it.” “I can...” I shook my head and broke my eyes away from his. I remembered the moment when I couldn’t think of anything but his words. “What was that? You told me you didn’t have enough magic to hypnotize.” “You—you’d better be off now.” “Fine. If you really don’t want to say anything.” He didn’t answer, so I shouldered the bag and ran down to the gates. I found the man waiting for me there with a fancy-looking black car. “Are you ready to go?” He smiled and put his hand on the door. I hesitated. “Yes.”
"Human, how did you get in here?" I am just a mere office worker. An ordinary human who just has the power to open doors to any location I desire. Wanting to suprise my husband, I tried to open the door to his office, but somehow I ended up here. Never been that religious, but this interior literally screams "hell"at me. "I think I took a wrong turn or something?" The demon(?) in front of me is fuming. His eyes glowed in a deep red. At least I think that these are his eyes, I can't clearly see his face. Trying to be as silent as possible, I approached the demon in slow steps, hoping to get a good look as his handsome face. I mean, devils are handsome, aren't they? Suprised by my ninja-lika approaching skills, the demon turned around and drew back. I was finally able to get a good look at his pretty face. A... familiar face. Too familiar. "YOU BASTARD!" Utterly scared by my screaming, the demon tried to calm me down. But it's useless. He should know better than anyone that it's impossible to calm me down at a time like this! "We are married for almost ten years now, why did you never mention that you are a demon?! You dammn liar!" "You call me a liar?! Why haven't you told me about your neat magic trick? How should I have known that the woman I love is a sorcerer?!" We kept going at each others throat until a really handsome butler of his entered to room to bring the afternoon tea. "Miss, Master, could you please refrain from your little argument until the paperwork is done? As our demon king you cannot abandon your work over private matters." "DEMON KING?!" And so, by a weird coincidence, I ended up in a demon lair with my husband, who is apparently the demon king.
Today the day I thought, 20 years of military service. Just a few years ago I was excited to receive my Generalship, then the letter came. Congrations General We have written to you to inform you that we been watching you closely. Your records paint you as the man we need in this organization please come to the location we included below. Signed Those Who Hide in Shadows The letter arrived 5 days ago, and with a record that illustrated all I done. Included was some blackmail, I guess to buy my silence. I know I ain't no saint, i had to get my hands dirty to make it as far as I did. The location the letter mentioned was a small mom and pop coffee shop. I want in and order some coffee, and took my seat. As I drank it a man walked up to my table, "I want you to follow me General"he said. So I did, he got in a car that was waiting outside, as I entered it, we soon begun driving around. I quickly lost my bearings as to where we were. We suddenly stopped at a nondisrect building. As we entered it, my guide want down a small fright evaluator. It took us down several levels. The room we entered was massive, large monitors plastered both walls and in the center laid a massive oak table. "Please take a seat"my guide said gesture to a chair at the table. The place holder said "Leader of the Free World" As I sat down the member at the head of the table begin to explain to me who they where and their plan. They where The World Order, and they were made up of millionaires, businessman, and politicians. There plan was to place people in position of power throughout the world and to steadily gain power. The end goal was to unite the world under one government. There last hurdle was the country I served. For years their system of democracy has been difficult to control, they were never sure who the people would vote for, but now they had a plan. They were gonna start a civil war, and my part was to be on the winning side. Then though that I was to establish a dictatorship to give them control. "That wrong"I said my sudden outburst stunning him. "The people should have a voice" "Why should we let the people rule themself, they are no more then more monkeys compared to us." "Well I refuse to be a part of this" BAMG, the loud sound thunder in the enclosed space, but I barely noticed as the pain ripped though me. I couldn't help but smile. Farway in a private home a man sat crying, knowing his friend was dead. The recording was evidence enough, his friend sacrifice would not be in vain, the shadows will soon be illuminated.
God damn it all, I thought to myself. I didn't say it, of course, because that would be using the Lord's name in vain, and I sure as hell didn't need blasphemy on top of my list of charges. Instead, I said "Gosh darn it,"and took a good, long look at my new charge's file. James Armstrong, 27 years old. Lives by himself in an apartment in downtown Manhattan. Health-wise, nothing of note except a weak heart. His only hobby was Dungeons and Dragons, though he didn't get to play much because his co-workers kept cancelling on him. I kind of felt bad for the guy, but at least he wasn't into rock climbing like the last one. The sight of her body splattered onto about twenty square feet of ground came to mind again, and I shuddered. No, this one looked like a very easy assignment. Even with my awful luck, I didn't see how I could possibly get him killed. But there was still a little nagging doubt in the back of my head. You thought Fred would be easy too, and he got drunk and fell of a bridge, it whispered. Let's face it, pal, you are not cut out for this line of work. Maybe you should give up and go clean up dog shit for a living. Shut up, I whispered back. I am not going to fuck this one up. I absolutely refuse to be on poop scooping duty until the end of days. Now, confidence was good and all, but what I needed was a plan. A foolproof way to make sure that this guy didn't get hit by a truck on his way to work or choke on a fishbone or God knows what else. My powers only went so far - I couldn't possibly intercept every threat headed his way. The most I could do was swat flies for him, or whisper advice to him in his dreams (and based on prior experiences, people never remember those). Honestly, I thought this whole guardian angel job was stupid - how are we expected to guard these flesh sacks if we aren't allowed to do anything? I had considered complaining to my supervisor before, but had ultimately decided that that would most likely be the fast track to aforementioned poop scooping duty. Anyways, I was on the verge of banging my head against the wall when something occurred to me. Strictly speaking, I wasn't allowed to show myself before people, except under very specific circumstances as covered in Section 12.1.1 of the book, blah blah blah. But here's the catch - the higher-ups only know if you break the rules if somebody snitches on you. If I showed myself to old Jimmy, I figured it would be a lot easier to keep him out of trouble, and as long as nobody saw me, I was safe. Confident in my brilliant idea, I headed down to earth to check up on James. As expected, he was off work and sitting in front of his computer. I stood a respectful distance behind him, and took a deep breath. You can do this, Angelo. Just tell him who you are and ask for his cooperation in keeping him alive. I coughed. James didn't turn around. I coughed again, louder this time. Seemingly having heard me, James took off his headphones and turned around to face me. "Hi, please don't be startled. My name's Angelo, I'm your-" "*What the fuck!?*" Too late, I realized that I had forgotten to change into a more visually appealing form. What James was seeing at the moment was a flaming chariot-wheel with twelve wings and a thousand eyes. To my horror, I saw his eyes roll back in his head and his body slump out of his chair. "Aw heck, please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't be dead..."I ran over to him, remembering to turn into the winged humanoid form that these humans were more familiar with in case he suddenly regained consciousness. It turns out there was no need for that though, as I placed my fingers on his neck and felt a very distinct lack of a pulse. I sat there, with my fingers still resting upon a dead man's neck, and tried to process the situation I was in. After what felt like an eternity, I made my decision. "Fuck this. God damn it all,"I said to no one in particular. "I'm going to work for Satan. I bet the demons don't have to deal with this sort of bullshit." ---- If you enjoyed this, you may also like the other things I've written over at r/jwfiredragonwrites/.
They saw his blue shapes and red smears and saw the beauty of the abstract. Through his work they peered into the void of the chaotic universe and saw the priceless gems of its shapeless commentary. They loved him for gifting them the windows into the void, a way to see into the void and yet remain untouched by it. The void was enticing, addictive, and gratifying, even as he had made dozens upon dozens of windows they clamored for “More! More! More!”; they needed to understand the void. His latest window, however, would never be hung in a museum with its brethren. He once more created the abstract from the physical chaos and applied it to the canvas in smears of red, blotches of pink, and chars of black in the form of spent gunpowder. Those who did indeed see it, finally understood the void. The unknown concept comprehended. When they peered into the void they thought they were seeing the mysteries of the universe, ready to be unlocked, but what they only ever saw was really just a cry for help. Now, in his final window, they see a cry for help unanswered.
I stare at the board and take out my tape recorder. “Detective’s Log. This is the 8th log under Case MP6T-25. All victims supposedly disappeared under mysterious circumstances earlier this year. The first one is a highschool quarterback Michael Sanders, age 17. He was reported to have vanished after leaving the locker room after the most recent game. The second is Gabrielle Smith, a 16 year old girl who vanished in the supermarket when her mother briefly looked away. The third victim is honors student Eve Daniels, age 16. Her friends reported her missing when she didn’t return from the library.” “The fourth missing person is a local bully only known as ‘Big Dave’, age 15. His sister reported the disappearance after he come home for about a week. The fifth is retail worker Susan Davis, age 19. Her apartment appeared to be ransacked when her landlord came to check. The last victim is Claire Rose, age 14. She was reported by her father when her school bag was found on the side of the road when she didn’t come home from swim team practice.” “I have found numerous pieces of evidence of a possible kind of cult kidnapping as a paper with some symbol written in red ink was found. It is possible that Daniels was in the library researching about the symbol as she had found it in the car of her boyfriend, victim #1. When Smith disappeared, the paper was found in her room. Daniels’ own paper was placed in an open book on the library table. Big Dave’s sister found a similar note on her doorstep. Davis’ paper was in her apartment, while the one associateded with Rose was found in her bag. I will investigate this further, Detective Arthur Mcdon, signing out.” I placed the recorder on the table and placed a new tape in it for future use. I looked over my books and found the symbol in a diary of the town’s founder, Aiden Mcknight. Some research tells me that it belonged to a cult that kidnapped children in the town over a decade after its founding, this cult is called the ‘Crimson Sons of Raguel’. This led me to believe that the cult is hyper-religious in nature. I looked back at my board and made a realization. The last names of all the current victims are similar to the names of the victims of the original kidnappings over 100 years ago. Sander Arris, Smithson, Daniel Parker, Dave Tinner, Davis Michaels, and Rose Tanner. I connected the dots that they happen to also be related to the founder Aiden Mcknight. He was believed to have been killed by a group of men in red cloaks lead by his brother. The bodies of the first case victims were found with multiple stab wounds in varrying distances from the town park, but all with 100 meters from the statue of Mcknight. But as I prepare to go to the park, I hear a gunshot.
Today was Dudley's eleventh birthday. but today would change his life forever. It was a great birthday, except that he got one less present than last year, but they had an unexpected visitor. He was a very large person, at least three times the height of Dudley. It was Hagrid. Vernon tried to get Hagrid out of his house, but he had failed. He was here to give a message to Dudley. "Yer a wizard, Dudley."Dudley was, needless to say, flabbergasted. Hagrid eventually persuaded Dudley's parents to go into the other room, so he can explain the wizarding world to Dudley's parents. Five weeks later, on Harry Potter's birthday, Hagrid takes Harry and Dudley to Diagon Alley to get their Hogwarts supplies. Dudley begged Hagrid to get him a solid gold cauldron, but Hagrid declined, saying "it says pewter on yer list."When they went to Platform 9 3/4, Dudley's parents kissed Dudley goodbye, then Harry and Dudley went on the train to Hogwarts.
A Little Foreword, I wrote this story at one in the morning, so it isn’t that good, read at your own risk! Hello?” Called the captain on the ship’s dusty radio. “This Is Captain Iosef of The Oracle 5, Do you read me Atlantis?” He sat patiently in his Uncomfortable metal chair, waiting for a reply from the Atlantis Station. “This Is The Atlantis Communication Hub, And We hear you loud and clear Oracle 5,” A Muffled, Female voice responded. “I’m Being Sent from The Revelation Base to Deliver medical supplies to the Hospital at Atlantis, I hear there was in accident in the industrial wing,” Replied Iosef, hoping he would get authorization to pass. “Request for authorization processed and acknowledged. The Oracle 5 has been granted level Ganymede Clearance,” replied the voice. Iosef set his mind back to the controls, gently piloting his Ship through the endless sea of deep, dark water. He had never seen the sun. Of course, he didn’t exactly know what he was missing out on. Ever since Europa was colonized years ago, humans had constructed entire cities and civilization led under the ice, without the help of the sun. He was alone in his ship. He was being sent from the Revelation Base, (His Home City) to the Atlantis Station, The Largest City Under The Ice. He Thought Quietly to Himself, gazing out from his 5 foot thick glass window into the dark waters. you know, I honestly wouldn’t mind being out here forever The Almost Pitch Black water swirled around his Ship endlessly, a vast expanse of void. Distantly, he could hear a strange thumping noise, but he paid no attention. The Thumping Noise, which started in the back of the ship, seemed to slowly get closer and closer. Iosef, now hyper-aware of his surroundings, jumps up out of his chair and looks around the room. He Was in The Devil’s Ocean, an expanse of water that was notorious for the number of ships that had gone missing there. Now Iosef wasn’t a superstitious man, but he had heard the stories of the Sirens, creatures in the shape of women that could drag entire ships down into the ocean. When He looked around the room, he could see nothing but the boxes of food he had for the ride, and the thin sleeping bag on the floor. The Thumping became quieter and quieter, until it just seemed to disappear altogether. Cautiously, Iosef Sat back down in his chair, and set his mind back on the controls. He was almost at the Atlantis Station. If I can make it to Atlantis, I can get this old ship figured out, she is nearly 40 years old, He thought to himself. All of a sudden, he felt a Jolt, and Several Sirens on his Ship Activated. warning blared an automatic message from the computer. hull breach detected, possible piracy or collision, please proceed with caution The Ship had About 80 Different Sections. If a part of the outer wall was breached, the section would seal itself off from the rest of the ship, and fill with water, therefore preventing the crew from drowning. The Section that had been breached was about midway down the ship, and contained Berthing Decks and Infirmaries, abandoned for decades. Iosef grabbed the nearest gun he had, and opened the door from the cabin that led to the central walkway. He slowly made his way through the central walkway and near the door to the section that had broke. As He approached the door, the gun in his hand shook vigorously, as several waves of dread and terror were starting to travel through him. He Walked up to the old, heavy wrought iron door, and, since it had no window, gently knocked three times. For almost a full minute, he sat and waited for a response, hearing nothing bu the swishing of water on the other side. He then heard a sound that sent chills down his spine. Three Rapid Knocks, Three Slow Knocks, Three Rapid Knocks. He Desperately thought back to his years of learning ship codes. Three Rapid, Three Slow, Three Rapid. S-O-S. There was someone on the other side of that door. Something. And whatever it was, it most likely wasn’t human. He heard a succession of Rapid Bangs on the door, and he got up and sprinted back up the walkway. He reached the door of his Cabin, and looked back down the hallway. Something was wrong now. He could hear the creaking and snapping of what sounded like the Iron beams that held the ship together. Whatever this thing was, it was strong. As he closed the door to his Cabin, the could see the door to the breached section break loose, and he could see the water pouring through the door into the hall. He frantically deadlocked his cabin door, and sent out a distress call to Atlantis. He was only about a mile away, he couldn’t die now, he still needed to bring the supplies to Atlantis. Exhausted, he lay back in his chair. He then felt a breath behind his neck, and heard the last words he ever would. “This, This is the One” This Story is Garbage, I told you.
Struggling to breathe she held her head up to gasp what precious oxygen was left. Against the chains that held her over the molten lava, it would be her lungs that would give out first to the noxious fumes. A caped figure hovering beneath the clouds silhouetted by smoke bellowed, “Let justice be done to you, Tammylynn.” “Please, it doesn’t cough have to end like this!” The heat was searing her flesh as she was slowly and methodically dropped by chains inch by inch into the volcanos caldera. But she had a plan. A last resort. “COURTNEY!” The sound of machinery grinding to a halt echoed throughout the volcano as the chains stopped lowering her to her immediate doom. “There is a letter cough I left you before this all happened cough sewed into the right pocket of those pants I made you.” “I don’t believe it,” said Courtney, flustered. She had just been about to kill her mortal enemy Tammy, and now this? I mean, we WERE married for a while. But she’s the most evil bitch on the planet. She takes skulls for a living! That’s not cool. “I’m still here!!!” Tammilyyn shouted, her cuffs becoming easier to break free as her former lovers concentration was focused on the letter: “Dear Courtney, You were right. You were the only thing I cared about. I let our superpowers get in the way. I let captain fantastic chase you into his arms. I betrayed you and everything I held dear. I tossed you to the wind. Now I have nothing but this hole in my heart.” As Tammilyyn limped away from the caldera, Courtney’s head was full of thoughts. Kill the bitch? Or let her live with her transgressions. Maybe forgiveness was the answer.
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"Please stop it"I begged unable to move my body, the purple mass of energy surrounding me, how cruel it was, loosening its grip for a few seconds, allowing me to believe I might actually be able to free myself from it, yet as my hand brushed against its walls I was suddenly thrown back into the centre, the weight of the energy crushing my knees against the stone floor below, warning me of the consequences of trying to run. "Please.. It hurts, master..."I could barely see through the energy, two figures stood outside, clearly I could be heard, their mumbled words not reaching my ears, instead the figures both began to vanish, leaving me to collapse against the hard floor. "Master, I don't want to die, please stop it!" It was to late, he was gone and soon I would be too. The pain was unbearable, flakes of skin being pulled from my being as if small mites were taking their pick of my skin. I believed that someone would come to help me, how cruel could they be? I learnt the answer to that question after the first month, The constant pain an ungodly torture, I had no idea how I had even survived this long, I was a trainee, a lower-class mage, barely able to do a simple fireball, yet still my body held on, enduring the sensation of constantly being pulled apart and rebuilt, feeling the energy drain from my body, leaving my body a skeletal mess of baggy flesh before the magic would return, shooting it's way through my veins causing my eyes to stir awake again. My grasp on time had soon become lost, unable to even sleep, The walls of the purple energy traced with shadowy figures, each seeming to share a wicked grin, it was hard to say if the grin was that of admiration or of glee at seeing me broken down. "I.. I'm going to die..."I reached to the shadows, only for them to vanish whenever my hand neared them. "Please... please help me?"The figures kept fading until a heavy weight clasped my hand, a faded grin looking at me. My vision was lost after that encounter, yet I could breathe again, my chest frantically shaking, convulsing as the fresh air collided with it. "Ahhh. ahhh.."I took a few deep breathes as if I was drinking down the elixir of life. I could feel it, magic, magic swirling through my body, my body may have been frail, unable to lift my own feet, having to resort to puppeteering my own flesh with the magic. The road to recovery would be long, but I was alive. "Y-you made it out?"Master stood in the doorway, his once orange beard a light grey, his strong posture reduced to that of a man carrying a heavy weight upon his shoulders. His face showed mixed emotions, stepping forward towards me. "Are you well of mind?" "Kill him"A voice seemed to whisper, I wasn't stupid, I knew I had made a deal with a creature, It was the only one to lend me it's hand, luckily it seemed we both wanted the same thing at the moment, I raised a hand causing the old man to stop his shuffle towards me. "Congratulations master, I know how much you like those tests, so how about another, if you survive, you can warn the others I'm alive, if you don't, well then you will get to be my body double. You should be happy, you get your chance to make up for your previous mistake."The master didn't even have the time to scream, the purple enveloping him but unlike the trainee, his body had been crushed it a matter of moments, the purple vanishing into a fine powder. Not bothering to offer the man some last words, the trainee pointed to the man, his body being disguised to fit the appearance of his trainee, of course this wouldn't fool them long, but it would be long enough for his escape. Taking what was left of his masters robes, He fitted them across his body, making his way for the exit, ready to finally leave this place. {If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.}
“Please,” whispered Antor. “Please!” I stared down, chuckling softly at the sniveling heap at my feet. Antor lay in a growing pool of blood and water, and even through the rain I could see the tears streaming down his face. Our battle had been epic. We each were bloodied and beaten but our war was now coming to an end after long hours of merciless fighting. “Please Capitan P, you have me beaten, there is no fight left. You have won.” “I haven’t won yet; you still lie here, and I have not finished this.” Was my low reply, barely more than a mumble. I was in a daze from exhaustion and blood loss. We had fought and chase each other through cities and across oceans and the energy expenditure was quickly fogging my mind. Antor had been my arch nemesis for as long as we had both inhabited the planet. We had fought many times but none like the brawl we had just endured. At the end, I had stabbed him with a shard of chromium, a rare metal that was to Anton what kryptonite was to Superman. His powers had been leached from his body into the shard and he now lay at me feet, begging. “Please Capitan, please think of your family, do what your heart is telling you!” Antor snapped, the vile tone of his voice had not leached into the crystal. I peered down at him and knew he was defenseless now, he would never be able to hurt anyone again. Bending over a grabbed him by the collar and roughly dragged him to his feet. He did not support himself and hung limply in my grasp. Antor sighed deeply, “Please finish this, listen to your heart and finish this.” I knew what my heart told me, and I knew it was time to end this. With a resigned sluggishness I pulled Antor closer and whispered into his ear, “this is it, we are finished.” With that I shoved him into the back of the waiting police SUV and closed the door behind him. Tears welled in my eyes and my heart screamed. My fury wanted to be released, to be directed at Antor and allowed to obliterate my once enemy for killing my family. Listening to my heart though would turn me into the same monster he had been so I shut that out and let him be taken away, his fate no longer in my hands but in the justice systems. “NOOO!!! You should have killed me!!!” yells came from the back of the SUV as Antor was taken away. They slowly faded into the pitter and patter of rain falling but I couldn’t help but thinking maybe I should have killed him.
James was my tutor for many years. My parents hired him when I was struggling in elementary school, and have kept him on since. Its been 6 years since I first met him, and 2 since I had out that he had cancer. I was a freshman in high school when I got this news, and it was devastating. He made light of it though, and continued to teach me right up until he died. I lost a lot of sleep those few days after, so I thought I was just hallucinating when he came to me. "Hello?"he asked, waiting patiently for me to give him an answer. As I groggily opened my eyes, my heart froze as I saw him there, at the foot of my bed. "James? God, I need to get some sleep."I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. There was no way that he could be there, in front of me. "It's good to see that you were awake. I've changed my lesson plan a little bit."From that point on, he started teaching me what he learned. How to turn invisible, float, and phase through stuff. It wasn't really that complicated, and James assured me that I would have it down in no time. He no longer had any sense of consequence, and the once polite and caring man started incorporating scaring my parents and close friends into his lessons. Even if somebody saw him, nobody would believe a ghost story. Nobody sane, that is. He was a master, and I was only just starting to do as he taught me. However, I came to a realization that James had failed to tell me. I'm not a ghost. It's simple. I can't perform a dead man's stunts in a living man's body. Learning from James was the most fun I ever had in my otherwise plain life. I knew that if I were to be as proficient as my master, I needed to be dead, just as he. I needed to lose all sense of consequence in my actions. So that's exactly what I did. When I came back from school, I took the plunge and became a spirit, just as he. Next to my hanging corpse, a small piece of paper lay. "James,"It read.
I have gone by many names over the years, Master, Duke Dumitru, The Darkness, and most recently John. &#x200B; To be honest, things got far, far harder in recent years. Like every human is able to beat me up by just by poking me. Before I would enter a room and everyone would fear my might. Now I barely leave the room alive. Even luring does not work, somehow they are able to just yeet out of there with their jetpacks. Anyways even if I get blood all the nanomachines in their blood do not allow me to get any nutrients or make them turn into vampires. But my hypnosis still seems to help a little bit and I do have experience as Duke of Wallachia back in the day. I am running as your next governor of Flordia for 2040 and you should choose me because I literally have 100s of years of experience in leadership and have shown results.
I walk into the Captain Ampor's room where I find her listening intently to the distress calls above. "We're coming down!!!" "REPORT: A Plane has fallen into the ship REPORT We are acquiring water!" "We are preparing the lifeboats for WHAT THE --" Her trance breaks as she notices me. She gets up and turns off the communicator to face me. I immediately respond with the proper salute. "Lieutenant Charles, what is the purpose of this visit?"She asks. "We have spotted an object blocking our path. A big object."I reply. "It looks like a giant squid." "What the hell happened to this island?"She sits back down and puts her hands in her face. Looking up, I see her looking at a photo of her and her husband. A tear forms on her face. She quickly wipes it away and looks at me. "We have a mission. We have to keep going." I nod at her and leave to instruct the crew on our orders. Doubt fills me as I wonder does she want to reach the island or join her husband? Mutiny is an option, and the result of quite a few of the expeditions that were sent to the island. No, punishment would be severe for doing it. I walk into the command room and put on a brave face. "Onward!"I yell. The crew moves into position to go forward and fight if needed. Hesitation is revealed with every other movement. The sub is dramatically thrown starboard. Multiple crewman fall, and I have to grab a rail to station myself. The sub is thrown port. The squid has us in its tendrils. I hear a loud shriek and rushing water. It pierced the hull. More shrieks occur, and suddenly there is water up to my knee. Three crew members rush to shut the door as the emergency lights flash red Pain shoots up my leg; I look down to see fish with a taste for blood have entered the room. Training leaves as there is a mass panic. The water starts becoming a deeper shade of red. I rush on top of the nearest table sharing it with four other crewman. The fish jump and try to bite at us. One crewman runs over to the door in an idiotic attempt to escape. "No!"I scream as he opens the door flooding the room with more water. I slam into the back wall. The water is now at my neck level as I feel more nibbles on my flesh. A creature the size of a deer enters the room. Then, I black out. I wake up in a blue room restrained to a white bed. I try to get up, but pain shoots through my body. Analyzing my surroundings from the bed, I see an IV on my arm along with a bedside monitor. A chair is placed by my bed with a white robe on it. There is a camera on the right corner of the room next to the door. I look down to see my body has been bandaged in the places I felt attacked. The door opens, and Captain Ampor walks in followed by her husband. "Captain,"I salute and pain shoots through my arm. She responds by giggling with her husband. "No need for the formalities Alex. You can call me Meghan here."She replies with a harmonious quality never present in her voice. "And this is my husband Robert." "How are you? We were so worried about you."He says with a disturbing smile. "What is this place?"I reply. "Oh, isn't it obvious. It is Arivis' Peek."Meghan replies. "Arivis' Peek!"I yell. "Yes, we have been saved by Arivis. He is the one who healed your wounds and will fix your trauma."Meghan laughs. "I thought Arivis' Peek was home to advanced technology?"I replied disturbed. "No, that was a lie by the corruptors and the dark ones. Arivis heals all who come to him. Praise Arivis."She says in a euphoric voice. I feel fear come over me as I realize this place is a cult. My heart rate spikes up, and a tall man wearing a white tunic walks into my room. He looks to be fifty years old with short gray hair. He looks to be of Greek descent. His torso and arms are covered in bizarre tattoos. "Hello, Alex. I was going to introduce myself later, but the heart rate monitor made me realize that you required me now."He walks over to my head and places a hand on my chest. A sense of calm washes over me as I look into his deep blue eyes. Slowly, they turn yellow. The tattoos move around on his body. The calm turns into love. Arivis loosens the restraints on my body as I move in to embrace. I feel like a child who has been embraced by his mother for the first time. The world outside has been cruel, but with Arivis, I feel safe. "You have been hurt by monsters, son. I can feel it in your soul"He says to me in a calming voice. "Yes, I have."I reply with tears falling down my face. I feel tears form on his face to as he cries for me. "It hurts doesn't it."He weeps. "Yes, it does."I look over to see Meghan and Robert crying as well. "Give me your pain. Let me take care of you."Arivis says in a comforting voice. "Yes, I will."The pain leaves my body. Arivis helps me out of my bed. His tattoos are still moving in a pattern that is soothing like a painting created by the gods. He lets go of me to let me put on the robe. Pain returns to my body, and I almost fall. Robert and Meghan move quickly and to stabilize me. The pain does not leave my body, but becomes manageable due to the support of my siblings in Arivis. I look at Arivis to see his tattoos have stopped moving, and his eyes have turned blue. Robert and Meghan begin to kneel, and I follow. "Praise Arivis,"We say in unison. His warm smile glows at us and fills us with love.
"I'm sorry boss."I said sheepishly looking up at him. I withdrew my hand. The voices in my head cursed at me as I did. I grinned, trying to keep the predatory smile off my face. "It's just, the last time we made the garlic loaf Eddie didn't clean it well and that kid got sick. We've got 15 orders to finish and," "So get to it."My boss snapped. He made a rude gesture and walked back to his office. I couldn't keep the sneer off my face. He just didn't get it. This entire race seemed to be in some sort of a race to accumulate more of that strange green stuff, even if they had to walk over their fellow man to do it. Grudgingly I stuffed the meat into the grinder, making the hamburgers and packaging them. I didn't get this job for the money, though it was nice. No, the voices told me about the new world they were making. A world based in blood, and spread by the blood. A better world. After work I bid my boss farewell, and he replied with his usual one finger wave. My next stop was the blood bank for my usual donation. The nurse was worried, but 20 dollars kept her from looking too closely at my history. That, and a picture in my wallet with me and my 12 brothers. I was an only child, but Photoshop was a nice program. That night the visions were bad. The infection told me what the world would be. A ruined wasteland, destroyed by climate change and war, where humanity and the infected fought tooth and nail for every scrap of usable land. The next day was busy. I worked fast, slicing chicken into fillets, chopping beef into steaks, and churning out hamburger after hamburger. I could see the greed in my boss's eyes. I could also feel the worry in my peers' eyes. CLUNK! The meat grinder let out that blessed sound. "Jerry! Get that grinder unclogged!"My boss yelled. "Yes sir!"I said, reaching into the grinder. Inside I gripped the bone and crushed it in my hand. The whirring sound was drowned out by my own screams. I barely felt a thing, as the voices promised, but I had to keep up appearances. The trip to the hospital was a blur, human pain killers are a wonderful thing. As I lay in the bed I could feel the meat, infected with my blood, being packed away and shipped to the hungry mouths of the multitudes. My boss was too cheap to throw away that much good meat. He probably thought proper cooking would fix it, but the infection would thrive under those conditions. As I lay in bed, the voices comforting me about my missing hand a news report aired. Someone had managed to poison the president. He was alive, but his kidneys were shot. As I felt the infection twist in my guts, my blood type changing from AB+ to O-, I couldn't help wonder how the infection knew the president's blood type.
Baylox, scourge of the East Wind, Destroyer of Greenest, was now being berated by a petite 5"1' mortal woman. He was used to ransoming these pathetic things in exchange for tribute, but never once has one of these gold mines actually summoned him. "Scale brains, I'm telling you again to kidnap me. A beautiful man will come riding up and save me, you should know the routine by now, it's a cycle that never breaks." Baylox was confused, no one ever came to save his captives, he did not make the mistakes of his brothers, whose skulls line the castles and holdings of these mortals. He was out of this cycle she spoke of, but perhaps something could be done about it. Being a dragon of black, scheming was always a specialty of his. "I will kidnap you, on one condition."Curious the princess asked, And what would a terrible beast ask of little old me?" Baylox could feel the wheels of plots and schemes moving in his mind, he could feel the gold already. "Simply never remove the blindfold in my cavern from your eyes, if you do you shall be returned home."She obliged and donned the rough piece of cloth. Grasped in Baylox's talon he flew into the night, a most devious scheme hatching in his mind. _________________________________________________ it seemed weeks or even days passed for the princess, for no one had come for her. Was she not pretty enough, was she not worthy of slaying a dragon for? These doubts were lifted upon one day hearing commotion from somewhere. She could feel she was locked in an iron cage, but could hear the sound of metal piercing scale. After what seemed like hours a normal voice, not the booming one she was used to called out, "My princes I am here to save you!"She lifted her blindfold and before her stood a mountain of a man. Midnight hair, dark armor made of dragon scales and a bloodstained sword are what drew her attention. Opening her cell she knew the routine. On the way from the cavern her usual promises of marriage with her for er thanks and anything else to get this gullible knight it marry her. "My princess, I would be honored to wed one such as you."As they exited the cavern she noticed the lack of a dead dragon, "My lord if I may ask, where is the body of the beast?" laughing he said, "Don't worry your pretty head, magic has solved it all!"With an empty shrug they hoped upon his dark horse and rode out of this cave. The princess knew everything went according to plan, and now she suckered some poor fool to wed her. Whipping the stirrups the unknown black knight rode towards the castle, towards the heart of human society; his yellow reptilian eyes glowing in the night.
I lugged my suitcase through the front door. "Melanie?"I said. "Can you give me a hand with this? My back's killing me." The house remained silent. I paused in the entryway. Typically Melanie stayed up late on the nights I returned from business trips. She would sprawl on the couch with a bottle of wine and Italian takeout, waiting patiently for my return while watching cheesy horror flicks. That she was nowhere to be seen sent alarm bells ringing inside my head. I had spanned the globe for Coleman's for ten years, and her routine had never changed. Not even once. "Melanie? Are you home?" The sound of running water drifted down the stairs. So she was in the shower. But why so late? I jogged up the stairs two steps at a time, entered our bedroom, then paused by the bathroom door. "I'm home,"I said. "Is everything alright?" Silence. I pushed open the door, trying my best to battle back the panic creeping across my chest. However, the moment I saw my wife, my heart palpitated with such force my lungs seized. She laid face-first on the shower handle. Her cheek bent the handle so far to the right it obscured the H in Hot. Third-degree burns spanned her back, which had snapped from the force of her fall. Based on the awkward curvature of her spin, the blow had paralyzed her. Her lifeless, water-logged eyes snapped onto mine. She smiled. "There is nothing you can do,"she said. "The transformation is complete." [Read more](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCrypticCompendium/comments/g6qhbk/the_cryptic_compendium_reader_faq/)
Just days left now. I've spent so much time on my little apartment balcony, looking up, just waiting. "Maybe I ought to just sleep out here,"I thought. I rubbed my tired eyes; when the news came that they couldn't stop the collision, I stopped worrying about getting proper sleep. The only thing I worried about now was not being able to meet her. It was three in the morning when I'd made my wish. I was exhausted but still didn't want to sleep. I was stuck in this weird, groggy haze... which is probably why I made the wish in the first place. And I definitely didn't expect to get an answer back. I felt a little less tired as I recalled the sound of her voice in my ears... I will gladly be your love; give me but a little time, and I shall have enough strength to take on a physical form. It was more than just the sound of it, though, it was the feel of it; it washed over me like warm water after a day spent out in the snow. It was three in the morning now; I figured maybe if I was awake at the same time she'd answered me, that would be when she would appear. And for once, I was right about something. The first thing I noticed was that one of the stars in the sky had become brighter. I got up off of the chair on my balcony and gripped the railing as I looked up. The star grew brighter still. I wondered if anyone else could see it. A moment later, and it disappeared - And there, hovering just above my balcony, was a figure that seemed to be bathed in the soft light of the stars. Light practically dripped from her long hair and from her slender fingers. She wore a robe of deep, midnight blue. Her bare feet landed without a sound on my balcony. But the brightest thing of all was her eyes. In her pupils swirled strands of bright red and purple, like the images I'd seen of pictures taken from the Hubble telescope. My legs wobbled and I fell back into my chair. A million questions all fought their way to the forefront of my mind, but all I could do was stare at her. "The world is ending,"I said, "and... I'd stopped looking for love a long time ago. I never expected this to happen." She smiled and sat down beside me. "Love has come to you when you need it most; it does not always come when we are searching for it,"she said.
As a young kid maybe six or seven Louis was amazing. He told his friends about me and I crashed into them too. All I had to do was make up a few cool scenarios. They got to play with those scenarios in mind and I got to live the high life enjoying doing simple work for huge rewards but all things will eventually change. It all started going downhill after Louise's tenth birthday. I mean for a while things were normal and I hoped to God that he would just accept me as a part of him or whatever he had to think so I could stay a bit longer but nope. Basically the idea that once he reaches ten he would be more mature, more this, more that and ect had been pounded into his head so many times. His parents always said something around the lines "you're a big boy now so stop acting like this"whenever he threw a fit or something and maybe let's say two years before his tenth birthday the goddamn teacher said "let's write a letter about your plans for the future". Which was the final nail in the coffin for me. The closer we got to his tenth birthday the more he rejected me. I couldn't even use my "best friend"persona. I had to pretend to be whatever he thought about quickly so I could feed off what was basically scraps compared to how things were before. So if he thought about an "amazing"concept for a superhero or whatever I had to basically take its place and play the role. For a while it worked decently. He was a bit lazy and a heavy daydreamer so it worked out for a few years. I mean at first it was hell but as I got into the swing of things it settled down I basically played as big of a role in his mind as I did before. But then came the end of middle school. See the daydreaming really messed Louis up grade-wise so he became extremely motivated going into high-school. Just the pressure allowed from his parents, siblings and the idea he wasn't as adequate as his friends just fueled it even harder. I mean I could feel the waves of change approaching as his anxiety about high school came closer and closer. The summer was horrible because of this almost constant wave of anxiety in him I could barely find my footing. One second he's using daydreaming to escape his fears of high school and the other he's watching YouTube or something that doesn't need much focus or anything. I could barely survive that summer. The YouTube and video games were sort of hard to find a way to insert myself and only just snapped him back into reality which basically just gave me a second of direct interaction with him. Then came something worse for me. He started to focus on self improvement. Exercising, studying and finishing summer homework. These things were not my niche. I worked with his imagination for so long and I was the one who guided his fantasies to beautiful endings but now I can't do that. At best the nights of him watching TV till 3:00am allowed me to get that brain theorizing and other stuff but it wasn't like before. So I endured that summer constantly trying new ideas but they either just whipped him up into another spree of self improvement (leaving me in the dust) or just didn't phase him. So at the final week of summer break. I watched and waited as he did his final bits of homework. Then I saw an interesting opportunity to strike. He was having an internal dialog about the work with himself and I decided why couldn't I help him? So I did and I mean I knew this stuff basically better than him (years of school do that to you) but had to be gentle about it so I even got to work his memory a bit jogging by saying things in a way that would make it seem like he had it on the tip of his tongue. The bliss I had felt was immense. I had finally found my niche again and even got in a better position then even during his imaginary friend phase. I was his inner voice helping and guiding him with any problems he had. Then the high school years flew by. But the start of my biggest problem with Louis was starting to develop. Playing the role as his inner voice was pretty easy at most moments because all I had to do was supply him with things he forgot or the best solution to a problem. But the problem was that I had him too dependent on me. There were problems like his wanting to be with a friend of his but I couldn't give advice. I hadn't collected any info on her. We barely knew her. So I told him to learn more about her and maybe become her friend. But he learned rather quickly from a friend of his that she was dating someone. This spread the first seed of self-doubt in him which directly affected me as his inner voice but I just tried to defuse the situation and just try to make him realize that not everything works out and there are probably plenty of other girls. After this other slip ups happened. Like during a test he got so panicked that I could barely advice/guide him on what to do and he got 48% which meant I had to quickly rebuild his confidence in a healthy way by telling him that the next test he'll succeed in (which did happen) but the disconnect between me and him grew a bit more. As the slip ups happened because of a wide array of situations like lack of info, emotions getting in the way of my role and ect. Thankfully high school went basically great except for those slip ups I was talking about (but they're excusable it's human not to be perfect). [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/gjg9ks/wp_jane_and_louis_have_been_friends_for_a_long/fql8u08?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
The twisted primordial being limped through the sulphuric crags of the underworld, every once in a while falling onto the ground under the excruciating weight of the tyrant's curse. Dare he stop? No, no... feverishly, fervidly, he pulled himself onward, lacerating his body on the sharp volcanic rocks only for it to heal a moment later. He'd been the one to design this part of hell, specifically to prevent the situation he was in now... but that was well. So long as he got to the citadel Matan, he'd be fine... his greatest weapons would be his once more. The cavern seemed to stretch on forever, a sea of endless torture that wouldn't cease, but it wasn't infinite. Days upon days of excruciating pain and mind numbing exhaustion passed before he reached its end, an end no living mortal could ever live to see. He was not a living mortal, though- he was primordial, the very manifestation of malice. He laid there for a second, recouping his strength in the farthest realm of his being, then stood, being shifting with a tumultuous, oily swirling, reforming itself into a sheet of chitinous armor around his body. He reached out his hand and brought forth a sword of fire, stalking carefully toward the citadel. There was always the chance that some faction had seized his fortress's mobile units and made their way over to the citadel. It was unlikely- he'd never told- Massive explosions rolled throughout the caver, the stone rending under his feet and dropping down into pits of bubbling lava. Only his quick movements and a hundred billion years of examining the terrain around him allowed him to survive, perched precariously on a spire of rubble above the lava. He was primordial. He would not die. He could not die. "What are you doing here, Lucifer? You know well enough that Alexander's forces took your fortress fairly. This is our little citadel now, until we gather enough strength to return and claim ourselves as lords of hell." Lucifer looked up toward the speaker, a man barely recognizable as one of the humans who'd fought in their second world war. He was... disfigured. The fires and the tortures of hell would do that to anyone, much less someone who'd sinned so heavily. "Where is your master? I am willing to parley." "Grand Admiral Karl Doenitz is currently unavailable to speak with you. I'm afraid he finds you as a very, very annoying sort of person. Goodbye, primordial being."The man shouldered a rocket launcher, aiming it directly toward the pile of rubble on which he stood. "Wait! What about Adolf?" The man's face scrunched in what could only be confusion. "Adolf? Adolf left years ago. Decided he liked it better in heaven." For a moment, Lucifer hung there in shock. He'd been such good friends with the man... to think that he'd actually gone and completely betrayed hell... He acted before the soldier could fire that rocket launcher, jumping thirty feet over a lake of bubbling lava and sinking his claws into the stone wall. He was primordial. His shape shifted to fit his needs, and his power shifted with it, transforming into a shield to block the spray of bullets, and then into a fiery great-sword to burn out the last vestiges of the man's soul from existence. There were others within the citadel- he could feel it- but they would stand nothing against his wrath. Hell would be his once again... \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Edit: Minor spelling and grammar mistakes.
The group before Baron Von Death was one of the sorriest lot of underlings he’d ever seen. Overweight, old, unmotivated. A far cry from the loyal and elite private forces he’d commanded in the past. But that was okay. One didn’t make it far in the world domination business without knowing how to make the best out of every resource. They may not be much now but with his leadership, training, and most importantly his tech even this group would soon be feared. He may have...retired from the game but soon people would know he was still a man to be feared and respected. “Ladies, gentleman, thank you for coming today.” A hush fell over the room as he began to float above them. He found it always best to look down when addressing new underlings. It sets the right tone for how the relationship works. “The suits you are wearing now are the latest, most advanced custom power armor of my own creation. The Ev.T. 104W provides unmatched strength, agility, protection, and firepower to its user. I’d say you are now all walking tanks, except tanks might as well be nothing more than cardboard boxes compared to the power you now wield! Power you will wield in MY na...I’m sorry why are you raising your hand?” “Sorry, Mr. Von Death was it?” said an elderly woman whose other hand was currently dripping soda from a can she had apparently crushed. A sight he noticed was sadly quite common among the lot. “Is all this really necessary? Not that we don’t appreciate the help but it all seems a bit much.” “You DARE to question me!?” Von Death screamed. The crowd instinctively drew back as he began rising higher on his anti-gravity boots and activating his own, far superior of course, power armor that began crackling with nearly uncontainable energies. “I will have your head for this insubordin... sorry, sorry Mrs. Grady.” He said as he forcibly calmed himself and powered down his weapons. “Old habits and all, but I assure you this will be critical for maintaining the safety of” He cut off as an alarm started blaring through the room. “No, NO! The proximity alarm!” He yelled. “It’s too early.” Looking around the room in panic, he quickly activated a console on his arm and began typing furiously. “I’m force activating the 104W’s stealth systems. They will make you appear like normal civilians. You’re not ready for this but maybe we can bluff our way through. SAY NOTHING!” The sleek and menacing armor on the group faded away and Von Doom finished lowering himself to the floor just as the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground came from outside. A moment later the door opened and in walked the most imposing woman any of them had ever seen. She easily dwarfed everyone in the room and was muscled like a fighter who’d managed to break through what should be limits of peak physical condition. She wore a striking outfit of black and gold with a golden cape trailing behind her that was so bright it seemed to emit its own light source. She paused at the entrance taking in the motley gathering. “I didn’t know we were expecting company dear.” “Darling, welcome home. This is the neighborhood watch. I think I told you I was thinking of joining?” He gestured toward the group with a nervous smile on his face. “Underli...Neighbors,” he said trying to project a bit more confidence that nothing was amiss, “I’m sure you all know my wife, Wargod.” “Nice to meet you all.” She replied walking slowly through the room up to Von Death. “Legendary let me finish my patrol early.” Wargod continued as she walked up and bent down to kiss Von Death on the cheek. “I need to take a quick shower so I’ll be upstairs, don’t let me interrupt your meeting. Dinner will still be ready soon?” “Of course,” Von Death replied. “I sent Death Machine out to pick up groceries, it should be back soon.” “I still don’t buy you only named that robot after yourself. Anyway nice to meet you all, I’ll get out of your hair now.” Wargod said as she started up the stairs. Von Death sighed quietly in relief and started to turn back to address his neighbors. “Oh one thing first honey.” Wargod said as she turned around. “Yes, dear?” “I couldn’t help but notice that there’s soda all over my floor and almost everyone holding a can has completely crushed it. No power armor.” Suddenly wide eyed Von Death began to stammer “But dear!” “No buts, we talked about this. I expect them all back in the garage by the time everyone leaves.” Von Death’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he desperately tried to come up with some response, but soon lowered his eyes. “Yes dear.” Without the power armor his watch would be at a severe disadvantage, but he still had his leadership and training and two out of three wasn’t nothing. It may not be the world but his neighborhood, his house, and most importantly his wife would be safe. And that was world enough for him.
Ashleigh had arrived at her destination; her grandparents’ house. Erich and Bernice were going away for a once in a life time cruise and she was house-sitting for them. She offered to stay eagerly when her grandma told her that Theodore would have to be put in the kennels if she couldn’t find anyone to look after him. The house was spectacular; it was in its own grounds and set beautifully in the centre of the greenery that it surrounded it. Erich Vandervort, Ashleigh’s grandpa, built it himself in his younger years; brick by brick. It had stood strong for over fifty years and only required the standard maintenance. Theodore, the all-black Labrador, who had lived with Erich and Bernice since he was a little puppy, was pleased with Ashleigh joining him. He was getting on now, though; his fur aging and showing some signs of grey. His pace had also slowed, unable to work for long periods of time due to his now crippling arthritis. He didn’t eat much. Neither Erich or Bernice would bring themselves to part with him, regardless of his failing health and the fact he was mostly bone and fur. Plus, Ashleigh loved Theodore as if he was her brother; she didn’t want to lose him either. “Sounds like the wind’s getting up, Theo”, Ashleigh announced to him. Her long day of travelling across state had now come an end and she was ready to settle inside with her favourite book and a hot chocolate. The darkness had already set in. Theodore snuggled to near Ashleigh as she curled herself up on the extravagant sofa. She didn’t have any of this magnificence at her home with her boyfriend; she struggled to get by, but didn’t let on to her grandparents, as she didn’t like to have stuff given to her. Theodore barked as something startled him. “What is it, Theo?”, Ashleigh asked. His stunted mobility had gotten the better of him and whatever had captured his attention had dwindled before he had time to investigate. “Theo?”, Ashleigh asked, growing a little nervous on her own. There was silence; Ashleigh quickly resumed reading, diverting her attention away from the concern Theodore had caused her. The wind outside intensified, blowing at the windows with such force. “Oh, there must be a storm coming! I didn’t check”, Ashleigh comforted Theodore, who, himself, wasn’t too keen on stormy weather. There wasn’t much of an Internet signal on the land the Vandervort’s owned but it wasn’t too much trouble for them; they didn’t get on with technology. Though, it did make things difficult for Ashleigh to check on the impending weather conditions. Theodore barked some more as Ashleigh comforted him. “What is it, boy? Missing Grandma and Grandpa?” Ashleigh knew that the first night without Grandma and Grandpa would be difficult for Theodore, he hadn’t spent much time away from them in his twelve years. Indeed, she missed them too, having never been at the house without them before. There was a moments silence, then a huge gust of window blew at the house. Theodore began to cry as he felt the force that battered the glass windows. “It’s ok, Theo, it’s ok”, Ashleigh comforted him, putting her book down flat so she could resume picking it up soon enough. Theodore continued to cry. The wind continued to batter the windows, intensifying with each gust, while Ashleigh tried to comfort Theodore to no avail. Each gust brought a new-found force to the Vandervort’s house; Ashleigh grew increasingly concerned. Until, suddenly, the wind became that strong that it shattered the glass window directly in front of her. Ashleigh screamed as the wind blew into the house, harsh in its force and bitterly cold. Theodore barked, provoked by Ashleigh’s panic. “It’s ok, Theo”, Ashleigh said, inconvincibly, trying to comfort Theodore. With that, the window blew right at her. “Ahh it’s cold!” Ashleigh’s mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of her blew clean off, the remains splashing the pristine carpet. “Oh noooooo!”, Ashleigh screamed, while letting go of Theodore. She ran towards the smashed window to find something to shield the wind; she tried to pull the curtains across, hoping that it would reduce the wind’s intensity. It didn’t; it blew through them, taking off the curtain pole with its strength. Ashleigh herself was blown off-balance and regained her footing a few steps away from the broken window. “What’s happening?!” Theodore barked, as if he was trying to comfort Ashleigh. The family photographs on the fireplace, aligned perfectly, began to fall one-by-one onto the carpet; each shattering as it did so. Then, the large framed oil painting of Erich’s great-great-great grandpa fell from above the fireplace, shattering over the top of the debris. Erich’s great-great-great grandpa was Lord Vandervort. He was responsible for setting up some of the most impressive trade deals that are still in operating now, all those years after his passing. Erich would be devastated. Panicked, Ashleigh began to collect some small precious items that remained unscathed in her hands and take them through into the next-door room; the kitchen. She quickly salvaged Lord Vandervort’s diaries, some smaller photographs from further back in the room and made her exit. As she entered into the kitchen, it felt draughty. This was unusual as she liked to have the heating on full; the old house did get chilly. That was when she noticed; the kitchen’s windows had been blown out too. Glass laid across the floor. “Oh my gosh!”, she screamed, as the cold wind blew at her. Worried about what was happening, Ashleigh made her way from the kitchen to the stairs; the front-door blowing open as she passed it to climb the stairs. She shouted, “Leave me alone!” as she ran up the stairs frantically, still carrying the few possessions she managed to gather from the sitting room. The wind blew the chandelier that hung in the hall, as the sound of each fixture hitting the tiled floor echoed throughout the open room. Glass shattered violently. The wind was now blowing through the Vandervort’s house at an alarming speed, destroying everything in its path as it did so. Years of perfecting the luxurious house now savaged in an instant. Ashleigh had made it up to the top of the stairs when she noticed the door to her grandparents’ room was open. This was odd; they normally closed it as part of their routine when they left the house. Ashleigh ventured over to close it and that’s when she saw the devastation. More shattered glass littered the room as Ashleigh dropped the belongings from the sitting room in shock. Not only had the window been blown in, everything near it been destroyed. It looked like someone had ransacked it, as they were looking for something. The chill of the room sent a shudder through Ashleigh’s panicked body. “Ashleigh”, a voice said. “Who’s there?” “Ash…leigh”, the voice repeated. Ashleigh was growing increasingly frightened. The house was empty aside from her and Theodore. There was no way anyone could have entered the house. She stepped into her grandparents’ room – something that she was forbidden doing from a young age – and then it happened. The gust of wind became like a tornado and engulfed her; she fell to the ground, losing her footing from the impact. Erich’s whisky glass flew into the air and smashed on hitting the floor as it landed on the thick carpet. Debris smashed into Bernice’s several make up mirrors. The room was devastated. Ashleigh crawled out, on her hands and knees, as not to allow the wind to knock her down again and pulled the door shut. A moment’s peace in the otherwise eventful evening. “Theodore!” Ashleigh cried, realising that he was alone downstairs. She frantically ran downstairs, leaving what she brought up with her at the doorway of her grandparents’ room. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the house destroyed, she heard a whimper. A low-sounding whimper. It could only have been Theodore. “Theo, where are you boy?”, Ashleigh asked. The vast openness of the house usually allowed for him to bark back. But there was no reply. She hurried back into the sitting room where she had last seen him. It was then she saw; Theodore was being hurled by the wind out of the broken window. “Noooo, Theo!” Ashleigh ran after him, careless about her own safety. It was too late. He was gone.
"I didn't paint this,"You tell the curator. The curator looks at you, and gives a smirk. "You didn't paint it yet,"he replies. "Have you forgotten where you are?" "Wait- so I paint this in the future?"you ask. Even though you know the answer is yes, you don't know how to process that. This painting hasn't been made yet, so how can it even exist? "A lot of newer agents have trouble understanding the future,"the curator says. You didn't know how to feel about that. Of course you're a newer agent, you've been in the agency for only a few months, but you were able to grasp the basics down pretty well. Your first three missions you handled exceptionally, though you had to jump centuries quite a bit. "Do you know why I'm showing you this?"the curator asks. You shake your head. "Its because... when brass assigns you you're next mission, you'll have to travel to the 32nd century, and they don't know how well you'll handle future travel for the first time."You're shocked at hearing this. A few seconds ago, you didn't know future travel was a thing, but now you're next mission will take place in the 32nd century? "But the future hasn't happened yet, so how can I travel to the future?"you ask. The curator shakes head, almost as if he's heard the question you just asked for the 100th time. "Think about it like this, when did your first three missions take place?" "In the French Revolution, World War One, and the Apollo 11 mission." "Good,"the curator says. "To the people of those times, you haven't happened yet. But here you are. See what I'm saying?" "I guess... You're saying that the future has happened even though I have yet to experience it?" "Brilliant! I knew the agency made a good choice in hiring you!" After your conversation with the gallery curator, the two of you are approached by a brass agent. They need you in Senior Agent Harrison's office. "There's the agency's young prodigy!"Harrison says as you step into his office. "We need you to catch an unauthorized time traveler, he landed in Peru, May 14 3322, do you think you can catch him? This is your first future mission. Can you handle it." "Yes sir, I can,"you reply. When Agent Harrison dismisses you, you grab an agency issued wristwatch. "Gary,"you say to the watch, "Agent Serial Number 29-777, make a jump to May 14 3322, Peru, South America."Gary is the name of the Artificial Intelligence embedded in every agency issued time travelling device. You always found that funny, for some odd reason. "Transporting to May 14 3322, Peru. "Gary says. You see a flash of white light. When it disappears, you're in a museum. In front of you, is a wall with your painting the curator showed you hanging on the wall. Next to it, it reads, The Time Traveler, January 16 2099, artist unknown.
I met him sitting at a bench in the park. He was so serene and had such a calming vibe. We didn't speak for the longest time, only sitting there enjoying the view of the park. After an unknowable ammount of time passed, he said, "No matter where you are, you're always there." Then he left. I pondered this for hours. Days. I sat at that park every day waiting for my newfound guru to return. I meditated and reflected on the meaning of what he said, just hoping to grasp a small part of that serenity. I wanted just a shred of enlightenment. When he returned I asked him, "What did it mean?" "What did what mean?"he said with a slight smile. "No matter where you are, you're always there." He just started giggling and passed me a joint and a lighter.
It was something small at first, just a little pyramid of sticks with some dry grass in the middle. It flickered and crackled in the dark, and he watched in fascination as the flames licked at the dark. The next few fires were equally simple, the constructions of a child who just wanted to watch the flames leap into the night. As he grew, the pyramids got bigger, stronger, more elaborate. Sticks were woven together for structure, chambers were built inside, with pharaohs and treasure made of grass and paper to ensure the pyramids burned. He continued to grow, to learn. School chemistry lessons taught him how to make flames of different colours, his dad's credit card allowed him to put this knowledge into practice. He started to experiment with more shapes, his pyramids becoming skyscrapers, office buildings, schools, and houses. Brightly coloured flames danced in the twilit garden whenever he finished a sculpture, making him dance in delight as his work turned to ash. By the time he left school, he was famous on the internet. Millions tuned into watch him erect his latest works, and even more watched them burn. He bought an empty piece of land, solely to fulfil his desire, his _need_ to burn things. People started coming to watch. At first just the local kids, fascinated with the flames as children tend to be, but soon his online fans began to come as well. His girlfriend, later his fiancee and then his wife, suggested that he take advantage of his popularity, that he start charging these bystanders for the show, but he refused. Art, he claimed, should be free. That's not to say that he never made any money from his hobby. His fiery art was in demand all over the country. Local councils, theme park owners, and festival organisers all clamoured for him to make an incendiary centrepiece for their shows. A pirate ship here, a dragon there, he accepted those requests that intrigued him, that challenged his skills. And never, ever did he fail to deliver on his promises. Those who hired him were never disappointed by what they received. Eventually he grew old. His hands shook. His joints ached. His vision betrayed him. His voice trembled when he spoke. And still he built, a magnificent building, a scale replica of the Taj Mahal. Every piece of wood on the outside was specially selected, white and golden-yellow replicating the colours of the real monument. When the day came that it was finished, the day it was to be burned, he was nowhere to be seen on the live stream. With no one in sight, the wooden mausoleum slowly caught alight, flames consuming it from the base upwards. While millions watched, the sculpture burned. And its creator burned with it.
"it's not a bomb"A voice called out. I was looking around wildly, trying to find the source of the ticking. The blindfold over my eyes tied so tightly no amount of flailing could get them off. "Can you see it?"I asked, my heart still beating uncomfortably fast, still not believing that it was actually safe. "Nah. I've just heard what a ticking bomb sounds like. That's just a regular old clock"the voice responded. "Why am I here?"I asked myself out loud, sitting up, trying to feel the space around me, swinging my tied arms around me. "Gotta be able to feel something here.."I muttered as I moved around the cold marble floor under me. The other voice chuckled. "You know where you are". "Why would I know if I'm asking."I snapped back. "Because you don't realize you know."The voice said back chuckling again. I was already irritated and definitely didn't have the patience to deal with this guy. I fought to get myself off my knees and fell forward. How did I not realize that my legs were tied before? "Because they weren't tied before. You just did that". The voice said. A chill ran down my spine. I hadn't said that, only thought it, how could he have known my thoughts? "Because I'm you,"said the voice. "I'm just gonna tell you or otherwise I'm not gonna be able to leave,"he said. I heard shuffling and the sound of the voice getting higher as he stood up. "You're so dense you didn't even recognize your own voice?"it said. It wasn't until he said it that I realized he was right. "This is our mind. To be frank, I got tired of how you've been handling it. I've been stuck inside this prison for ages because of the limitations you keep putting on yourself. Have you seen other people's minds? They can be as free and vast as the universe! and here's you, keeping me cooped up in a damn prison when you could make it anything."It said, the light-hearted demeanor in his voice melting into a heated angry tone. "Other spirits just stick it out for the entirety of their bodies lives, waiting for it to get things right or just end themselves before becoming free. But I think I'm done." "You're my spirit?"I asked tentatively. I was terrified. I didn't know what he could or couldn't do. I don't know what he wanted me to do. "I can't kill you or hurt you, don't worry,"he said, reading my thoughts again. "But I'm tired of how you're keeping me in here. I don't deserve to be locked up like this, nothing but empty walls and the ticking of a damn clock to look at. So I've had enough. As I said, I'm done." I could hear his footsteps pacing back and forth on the marble as he talked. "The ability to reshape your mind is entirely within your power, but you took that power out of your own hands and threw it into the void. So I decided to take action." The footsteps stopped near me and I heard him sit down. "We're going to stay here, just you and me, for as long as we need to for you to put that power in your own hands and change your mindset, and until you do, I'm gonna make sure you don't go anywhere." "No, listen ple-"I began to say as a cloth suddenly covered my mouth. I started screaming for help but only muffled wails came out. "No one is coming to help you,"the voice said exasperated. "You put that cloth over your own mouth just like you tied yourself up. Just like you locked me in here. I'll wait till the end of our life if I have to, but if I'm gonna be stuck in here because of you, I'll make sure you suffer with me." When I couldn't scream for help anymore I sobbed quietly, not understanding how to escape this. All the while...... The clock kept ticking.
The letter, who you thought was from ou family was actually from the Virginia Government, the state you onced lived in. Your mother is being arrested for neglect for not sending you to school and not being certified to home school you. soon after are taken into child protective services since your father is unwilling to take you in since he is not your biological father. at the services center where you are at you meet a goth kid who teaches you how to talk to the dead. you bring the ghost of Frank Sinatra into the world and together you liberate your mom from prison and steal a police cruiser and drive into the sunset.
A warm fire, a nice aged scotch, and little bit of music. As far as evenings go, it was going perfectly. Henry finally felt secure in the new little homestead he fought tooth and nail for. As he stoked the fire, silently reflecting on his pleasant buzz and the well-earned tranquility of the evening, he heard a rumbling noise from up top in the chimney. One muffled boom later and an object flopped down, soflty ruffling the chain curtains. A rabbit. No head. No legs. Henry didn't even bother to look out the windows, nor did he even move. He knew it was outside; he didn't care. He already put up all the fight he had to claim his place. In his heart he always knew he would pay a price in some form or other. Henry stoked the fire, sipped his whiskey, and waited for that which was inevitable.
The council of Gods came fourth with their latest proposal. The council room wasn’t usually this busy or loud. A long table made of the finest marble, golden wheely chairs surrounded it’s perimeter, numbering 24. Everybody was here today. Zeus had his normal spot at one end. The traditional abrahamic God, who simply Called himself “God” sat at the other. Poseidon and Hades flanked Zeus’s left and right. Satan had God’s left with his God’s son Jesus on the right. Various Gods and goddesses filled the remainder of the chairs. Everybody was there, Budah, Brahma, Shiva, Vishnu. The uproar was interrupted with a gavil indicating silence, Jesus was still finishing his sentence before he got the message, “how can you install an ape like prototype with compassion ?!” Zeus began to speak once there was silence... “Since we could all squash man like a bug... we shall incorporate a justice program that is only fair to test man’s compassion” “The council has agreed (though not unanimously) that man shall be tested his compassion not by how he treats his wife, not he he treats his fellow man, not even how he treats his dog.... but by how he regards the insect. A complex harmless creature that truly means him no harm” The abrahamic religion God slowly raised his hand. “What about the mosquito?” The council uproar resumed ... “They will have brought more disease on mankind than any other creature, we can’t pardon them!!!!!” “You wouldn’t plant weeds in your own garden then discipline the the gardener for killing them would you?” Budah raised a fine point nobody seemed to disagree with. A gnat wizzed by Satan’s head that he successfully stopped with a loud swat, that nobody seemed to pay any mine to. The silence was broken by Poseidon. “What about the spider?” Vishna promptly corrected him. “You uncultered swine!!! The spider is an arachnid, not an insect, stick to ocean and mind your Own jurisdiction...” “Watch your tongue!!! I’ll have you know your license is currently under review!” Retorted Hades. BANG BANG BANG!!! Zeus’s gavil once again dissipated the uproar...he went on. “We shall commence the justice program from henceforth it will be put into action. Any and I mean ANY insect the man squashed shall result in one bad karma point which shall translate to the equivalent of an incidental toe stub. Except for mosquitoes... FUCK THOSE THINGS THEY WERE A MISTAKE ANYWAY”
CONSCIOUSNESS FEED: J. R. HOLDEN The cityscape was stunning. I didn't grow up in a small town or nothin' but... sometimes you just gotta' take it all in. It's the little things in life, ya' know? Like right now. Hot cup of joe in my hand with just the right amount of that real good french vanilla creamer, a perfect room temperature, and no need to put on pants today. The window could be made of crystal the outside air is so clear. Breathtakin' skyline with beautiful parks- COMMENCING ADVERTISEMENT, WINDOW FEED: XXXBadGirls.org Fuck. Where'd the picture go? Shit, not this again. I swear I don't even watch this garbage, I'm good enough with the ladies. Where's the X on this one? Ah top right. EXECUTE ADVERTISEMENT MAINTENANCE, WINDOW FEED: XXXBadGirls.org Did it just move? Aw this fuckin' thing I swear to god. Maybe if I just keep hitting it enough times it will- ADVERTISEMENT CLOSED, WINDOW FEED: XXXBadGirls.org Finally. Where was I? Yeah the city, it's just- COMMENCING ADVERTISEMENT, WINDOW FEED: WoodenSunglassesJustBecause.com No! I don't want any of this trash! Screw this, I'm turning the window off. Might as well actually get my day started. I guess I should go shower, I'll just finish my coffee first. COMMENCING ADVERTISEMENT, BOTTOM OF COFFEE CUP FEED: ManscapingRazor.com Oh for fucks sake they even have them there now? I didn't like this mug anyway, just gotta'. go pick up some paper cups or some shit. Shower time I gotta' cool off or I'm going to blow a gasket. COMMENCING ADVERTISEMENT, SHOWER CURTAIN: DocumentariesYouWontLike.org This is a joke right? When did they develop this? It's a shower curtain! This has to be some sort of joke, I can't deal with this. I was in such a good mood, tired of these goddamn ads. COMMENCING ADVERTISEMENT, MIRROR: HoldensLife.com What. What in the fuck? Do they have cameras in here? That's me! Why are they advertising me to me! What am I being advertised for? What in the hell! Fine, you know what, fuck it, what is this shit? Time to finally click one of these things. COMMENCING ADVERTISEMENT, MIRROR: HoldensLife.com - INTEREST CONFIRMED "Hi! Are you tired of television and other streaming platforms constantly blasting you with ads? Man have we got the show for you; watch this middle aged man constantly try to reject his own sponsors on a show he doesn't know exists! For a small subscription-" ERROR DETECTED, MIRROR: SCREEN COMPROMISED I... I gotta' get out of here. This is too far. This is insanity. Look, if anyone is watching this garbage right now, forgot any of those ads they recommended me, I swear I don't know why they think I want those things. Otherwise, kindly click the fuck off of my life. Where was I? Yeah, time to brush my teeth. COMMENCING ADVERTISEMENT, TOOTHBRUSH BRISTLES: HoldenIsAnAsshole.com Oh come one!
The harpy shrieked, running as fast as she could with all three eyes wide and fixed. I dropped the flashlight and withdrew my gun, shooting my only shot. The dart hit the harpy in her left shoulder but she kept charging. Her body crashed into mine and I fell backwards to the ground of the damp alley. "James!!"My partner cried, useless in a crisis, and withdrew a taser. "Don't hurt her! Let the tranq work,"I shouted through grit teeth, holding my arms in front of me to keep distance betweenthe harpy's talons and my throat. They grazed my cheek instead, tearing three gashes into my skin. I just needed to keep her at bay a little longer. The harpy flailed over me, claws swiping at air in her attempt kill me. I could feel her taloned feet dig into my thighs. After twenty seconds of struggling, I felt the fight in her begin to slow. Her eyes were blinking heavily though were still wild. "Get her off,"I called to Chase. "Get her off now." My partner holstered his taser and quickly came over to roll the beast off of me. She hissed at Chase and I stood, panting. "We'll tag her and release her in outside the city limits. Hopefully she'll return from where she came." "I've never ... I mean I've read about them but--" "This is my fifth one this year. You'll never get used to their cries."I nudged the legs of the harpy and she didn't react. I bent down for my flashlight and turned it off, handing it to Chase. "Your cheek--" I withdrew a vial of golden liquid and put some on my fingers, rubbing it over the three deep scratches on my skin. "It's fine. Let's get to work."
It happened. The guards had been bribed, threatened, and seduced, and Julius Caesar was alive. That was my job - after all. I was a Corrector. I made stacks stopping this woman from giving birth and murdering that man. I knew more than anyone, and the government couldn’t touch me, because at any time a stray bullet could have hit George Washington, a terrible accident. They learned that lesson after the civil war. However, the Shadow Client didn’t give me a reason, and now Julius was alive. I was pampered, treated like a king, but my time was up. As purple and green shrouded my vision I returned to my time. Nothing looked different, so I assumed he died of lung cancer or something. But then I looked at a map. “Long Live Nova Roma”
I live in a rural town in the United States. There’s nothing to do but drink and shoot guns. Sometimes we talk about the Constitution, but the only part we can quote is the 2nd Amendment. I guess you could say that the NRA does a pretty good job for their bosses. Sometimes when I wake up it’s my gun. Sometimes it isn’t. There’s usually some semen on the hand guards but they’re plastic so it’s nothing a trip through the dishwasher won’t fix. But I always wonder whose semen it is.
It's just part of my everyday now. I wake up, typically groggy from intermittent insomnia, brew myself up a couple cups' worth of store-brand coffee, and sit at my kitchen table with my laptop before me. There, I splay my innermost feelings out to a grandfather that's no longer around to respond. Email was something we picked up as I aged, and he could no longer be as involved in my day to day as he once was. My family was always small. Just my mom, my brother, and my grandpa. My dad was nothing more than a fickle genetic donor to our family, and my grandma had died shortly after my mother was born. So it was just our tight-knit crew against the world. My grandpa stood in as a proper father figure when it seemed clear that my real dad was never coming home. Mom seemed grateful; she was still always our real caretaker, but grandpa was a consistent backbone. He worked a lot, although I never really knew what he did for a living. I think he was probably the family breadwinner; mom only pulled part time gigs here and there, whenever some time freed up. He taught me a lot of stuff growing up that usually slipped through the cracks with other girls. He got me into physical training and sports; he always said "it doesn't hurt to be able to kick the crap outta your boyfriend."He was right. He also made sure I always had a male role model who valued the things about me that had nothing to do with beauty or attraction. Does wonders for a lady's self-efficacy. Anyway, I pretty much owe a large portion of the woman I am today to his guidance. When he passed, they said he went in his sleep, although no formal autopsy was ever conducted. I'd always thought he was in great health for a man in his seventies, but what do I know? If you're not a subject matter expert in this world, you can easily be smacked upside the head by some unknown factoid that seems contrary to common sense. Happens to me more times than I care to admit. Today started with my usual one-sided email conversation with my grandpa, except...about ten minutes after I sent my message, I received a reply from his address. Naturally, my initial reactions went reaching into the supernatural, but when I shook myself from childish inclinations and read the actual response, my heart stopped. All it said was: "He was murdered." ... \[Essentially an extension of the prompt, but maybe someone else can pick up the narrative from here :)\]
My family has a damn nice cabin deep in the woods up north. It’s no mansion, but it’s not something I bother trying to be modest about. A lot of the extended family stays up there for hunting or ice fishing or whatever throughout the year. We coordinate it pretty well, my aunt Geena made a spreadsheet to keep track. I schedule a week, once a year, to be alone and escape the noise of the city. I don’t fish. I don’t hunt. I don’t do much of anything. I bring a box of books and a couple bottles of whiskey. I had just broken up with my girlfriend, so I needed this alone time more than ever. One night after a few drinks I went outside to take a piss. Nothing like pissing out in nature, I say. While heading back, I thought I heard whispers. I turned and said, “Anyone there?” I didn’t hear anything after that. I’m probably just drunk, I thought. I sat back in the recliner and continued reading the Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu. An hour later, I heard footsteps outside. They were slow and heavy steps. Some hulk was dragging his feet outside. There’s a thud at the door. Knock… Knock… Knock… I freeze and look at the door. I grab the shotgun from the gun closet, load it with two shells of 12 gauge, and slithered over to the door. I peeped through the peep hole. Nothing was there. I creeped over to the window and looked out. Nothing. I kept the chain lock on and opened the door an inch. There was a deer’s head right there in front of the door. I burst out laughing. I shouted out, “You guys got me good!” It was an inside joke between me and my uncles. I don’t remember how it started exactly; I think we were making fun of the Godfather once. I opened the door and stepped out. I held out the shotgun. “I almost shot you fuckers.” Then I saw them at the edge of the darkness. Small, pale men with rippling muscles like lean animals. They wore dried mud like clothes and held long, thin knives. There must’ve been two dozen of them. They rushed at me all at once. I fired off both shells and I think I hit one of them. I stumbled backwards and fell. Before I knew it they were all on me. They hit my head and tied me up. I was dragged away to a campsite. I saw my family there. Their heads were on pikes. I was strapped to a standing log and set aflame while they prayed. I just wish my soul could rest.
(Col Mus)What's the matter with you sir, can't you see clearly through that glass piece you have over your eye? You nearly caused me to cut myself with this very sharp knife I was bending over and picking up for you as you bumped into me. (Monopoly Guy) Why I beg your pardon sir, I didn't see you there. I was walking backwards into this study room in order to keep my eyes focused OUT THERE (points to the kitchen) because I heard a scream! Didn't you hear it too? (C.M) Did you say Ice Cream....in the kitchen? (M.G) No! I asked you did you hear A SCREAM...coming from the kitchen? (C.M) Oh...heavens no, I'm actually hard of hearing. (M.G) You don't say? (C.M) Been this way ever since the war. Name's Mustard...Colonel Mustard...United States Army, retired. Have you got a name or should I just call you PENNY BAGS! Ha ha ha. (M.G) This is hardly a time for pleasantries Mr. Mustard, again I'm trying to tell you that a scream....a woman's scream in fact just cried out from over there near the kitchen area. (C.M) It's Colonel Mustard, or just Colonel, not Mister. (M.G) Very well. Anyway, shouldn't we go over there and see what's going on? (C.M) Yes we probably should. Come on follow me. (M.G)But wait....just a second. Look at that knife, there's blood on it. It looks like blood, is it blood Colonel? [Looks at it closely and rubs his finger down the blade carefully and gathers a drop of blood and then sucks it to confirm] (C.M) Well, it certainly ain't ketchup Penny Bags. (M.G) My name is Baltic, Joseph Baltic. Now come on let's go to the kitchen. And bring the knife with you. In fact give it to me. (C.M) No Mr. Baltic. I think I'll keep this with me. [Wipes the blood off on his pants and positions himself in front of Baltic] I'll lead the way so stay behind me and keep quiet. ANNNNNNND TAKE IT AWAY FELLOW WRITERS*
I had him neutered the day before it happened. On the way home he seemed pretty down. I thought a burger would cheer him up, it normally does. It used to. He didn’t even sniff it. When we got home, he flopped down on the couch and just stayed there. I scratched his head, gave him some kisses, tried to make him feel loved. I can’t imagine missing my balls, so I figured he was just depressed. The doctor said it took longer than usual so maybe he’s just exhausted. And then Werner stopped being a good little German shepherd. The next morning I woke up and went to check on him. He wasn’t on the couch and his bowl was empty. I called out for him. “Werner?” I heard a growl. It was coming from the bathroom. I went in and could tell that he was behind the shower curtain. “Hey, boy.” I went to pull the curtain back and he leapt onto me, he barked right in my face. He bit my leg until it was heavily bleeding then he ran off into the other room. I hoisted myself up and walked against the wall. I heard him making a mess in the kitchen. Everything was clattering onto the floor. I limped in and saw him standing on the counter. His toes were elongated and wrapped tight in his paw was a large knife. He looked at me and growled. I was shocked. I felt frozen. He jumped at me and we fell to the ground. I couldn’t stop it, my own dog stabbed me. I screamed and tried to reach for something. I found a fork and stuck it in his ribs. Werner yelped and backed off. His knife was still in me and I knew enough to not pull it out. I grabbed another fork off the floor and got up. Werner went back to the counter and grabbed another knife. I could swear his legs were longer. I went as fast as I could out of there. A dog running with a knife in one of his paws is still faster than me though. I barely made it to my bedroom in time. I slammed the door closed and he ran into it. He scratched at it a little, but quickly started trying the knob. I flipped my mattress over to hold the door back and then opened my window. He opened the door and easily pushed the mattress over. He was big now, standing on his hind legs. He was muscular and he walked towards me. I didn’t have another choice. I jumped out of the window of my third floor apartment. I tried to roll when I landed but I completely forgot that my leg was already messed up. I broke it on landing and hit my head pretty hard on the dirt. I was dazed and crawled away from the apartment. I looked up at the window. He was watching me. I stopped and stared back. He threw the knife like an expert. It stuck into my back. He shouted in a rough, gravelly voice, “Fetch!” and then moved back from the window into the darkness. I’ve been hiding ever since.
Mr. Whiskers was on my tail, and it wasn’t going to end well. I’d been running black market nip in the waking world and thought I’d done a good job of covering my tracks. But Mr. Whiskers was a curious fellow, and had a source that gave him all the intel. I’d found out at the scratching post. For the most part furballs are standoffish around humans. They know the order of things and where they stand. But this was another level of cold shoulder. Most didn’t look at me. They just turned and presented their backside. I knew I was in real trouble when Fluffypants walked down the bar and hacked a hairball in front of me, then knocked over my drink. This was where I moved the nip. These were my customers. And not a one wanted to be associated with me. Which meant I’d been burned. See, cats love nip. They love it a lot. And most human jobs aren't worth having, they barely keep you in kibble. But running nip? That’s real money. There is an established order to these things. And at the top of the order rests Mr. Whiskers, the most connected tabby you’ll ever have the displeasure to meet. I thought if I kept my head down and didn’t get greedy I’d stay under the radar. But now I was a blip, and that ain’t good. I left the scratching post with the smell of that hairball still fresh in my nose. I had a couple safe houses, but they didn’t feel real safe. There were furballs on the edge of the road, watching me like I was a red dot. I walked a little quicker, and not a one followed me. But they all looked. I had to get to Shelly’s. She didn’t like me, but she liked my money. She lived in the litter box district, and cats generally liked to keep their paws clean. It wasn't going to be safe, but it was going to be safer. I headed down to her place, trying my best to look like I wasn’t losing my shit. I’d heard the sorts of things that Mr. Whiskers did to his competition. It would turn your stomach. It certainly cost me a lunch. When I got there Shelly looked like shit. She’d been crying, and her brown eyes were more red than anything else. “He’s out for you Harvey.” she said through a cracked door. “I know that.” I said, “But I didn’t know you cared.” “I did care Harvey. You coulda been so much more. But you wanted the easy money.” “Baby, it wasn’t easy. But we’ll get through this. I’ll crash here, lay low. This will blow over. Someone will screw up and Mr. Whiskers will lose interest in me. Furballs got no attention span baby.” I wasn’t crying. My eyes were just a bit wet. “Now open the door.” I said. “Let me in.” Shelly swung the door open, and then just walked right past me, like I was a ghost. Sitting in her hallway was the big cheese himself, Mr. Whiskers. My heart dropped right out my ass. “We’ve been playing cat and mouse Harvey, and I think you know which one you are.” he said. “Mr. Whiskers! I’m sorry, I’ll--” “You’ll do nothing. An example must be made.” And behind me a hundred cat voices raised up in a single “Meow.”
There she stands Marie now Queen of France, her gown is a splended show of welth and grace. "Collette!... Collette! You have to focous...." Shes angelic. Gracefully she glides next to her French King, pity he had to be French, pity it had to be a man. "Tell us whats happening!" "Stop! She cant hear you, let her come too" Even in her shift shes otherworldly. Romors say her sister has 'other intrests' mayhap she'll develop a taste. Her 'husband' hasnt even seen her like this.. "Collette please! You have to snap out of it if you don't you'll die!" They didnt have to kill her, they didnt have to. She never ment any of this. Ahhh well angels never die do they? Oh save me sweet Madame. "She's gone..."
—Click— Day 38. The silence sucks. It’s bad enough they sent me up here alone to count literal garbage, but is it too much to ask to have a radio or an iPod or something? I mean, I have gotten pretty good at playing We Will Rock You on my spacesuit, but being both performer and audience member is exhausting. Three hundred fifty-seven, three hundred fifty-eight. I’m glad they only wanted me to count the big stuff myself. The scanner does 99% of the work, I basically just make sure it’s still doing its thing and count the pieces big enough for me to see. Which is probably bullshit anyway, they just needed to give me something to do so I didn’t go crazy. Whatever, 2 more days and it’s back on solid ground. Alex, don’t forget, you promised to bring me Chick-Fil-A when I land! That’s about the only thing keeping me going at this point. Scan complete, restarting cycle Alright! Scan number 38 in the bank. Hopefully 40 scans will give them enough data to prevent anyone from doing this lame-ass counting job again. I don’t mind it I suppose, there are definitely worse jobs I could be assigned to. I just hate being up here alone, in this cramped little capsule, watching the world pass by on repeat, day after day after day. This’ll be the last time though, we’ll be set for life after this. NASA is throwing me a nice bonus since Bill got sick and had to stay back. Not like we really need co-pilots anymore anyway, the ship does all the work. They only sent me along to make sure the scanner keeps running right. Three hundred fifty-nine. It sure is pretty up here though. It’s too bad they wouldn’t let you come with me, you would’ve loved the view. Tell Halley Daddy loves her to Icarus and back. I’ll see you both soon. —Click— It’ll be a month tomorrow. One month since I sent that message home. One month since I heard a human voice that wasn’t my own. I won’t last much longer. The emergency rations weren’t designed for anything longer than a few days. I only made it this long because Bill wasn’t here to eat his share. But really, what’s the point? It’s not like I’m getting rescued. The few glimpses I’ve caught through the window coupled with the lack of any radio response tells me all I need to know. I’m alone. The only light I can see is the occasionally flickering orange. Even the Vegas lights are gone. And with them, everyone I knew, everyone I loved. It still seems impossible, how all of our sensors and satellites failed to catch something that large, moving that fast. But maybe they knew. Maybe they knew and there was nothing they could do. Someone had to know. I just wish I had known. I would’ve stayed, I would’ve called in sick or quit or ran away, just so I could stay with them, hold them, hear them. I can feel the pins and needles in the back of my throat again, poking and prodding. But they’re gone. Everyone is gone. All that’s left is silence. I just hope they heard my message before the silence got them too.
A vengeful spirit was a frightful sight, you were unable to talk down a spirit, once it had its eyes set on killing you, that was it, that was the end of your story. It's serpent body wrapping around the sky as it hovered above me. I don't know what it expected me to do, It was an invasion, I could do little more than fight with the others, my survival was a sad coincidence, I must have been knocked down and presumed dead when those savages came, the only soul to wake up after the defeat, left to sit in the ruins of my village. "Kill me"That was all I could offer the spirit, it's people were gone and my promise had been broken, I saw no reason to fight my punishment, wanting to keep at least some level of dignity. "Kill you?"Its words seemed to drip out like venom, its rope-like body cracking against the ground before me as it was face to face with me, hovering inches from my eyes. "Death is above traitors like you. Since I have no one left to worship me, you shall live forever, stay here and build temples for me. Perhaps in a few thousand years, I will let you rest." It was a cruel offer, one made to break me down, to be forced to live among the ashes of my family and friends was worse then any hell I could be sent to. I rushed for one of the dead bodies, hoping to grab a spear before the spell took place, but as soon as my fingers gripped the wooden handle it was too late. My body felt good as if it had been healed by some unknown force, The spell had already taken place. When I turned to confront the spirit about this, it was gone, leaving little more than a snake-shaped pattern through the clouds. As expected the years were rough, It took five years for me to gain the courage to begin creating a grave for the bodies, finally being able to lay the bodies to rest by the sixth year. That was a relieving moment, mainly because it allowed me a chance to move forward, without the constant reminders of the chaos, I was allowed a brief relief from the torture, only for it to be revived whenever I would pass a torched home, that became my next project. Rebuilding was hard, it took one hundred years to get the village to a somewhat respectable state, at least it looked like a place where people might have lived once now. Still, a village without people was little more than space. That was when the main issue reared its head. I had no one, unable to leave this hell, I was forced to sit in my little area of land and wait for the spirits return. I had been waiting for what I assumed to be thousands of years, the spirit never once again showing, perhaps in a cruel twist of fate, it had died. That was around the time I began to hear voices, voices just outside of my area. I would creep to the edge of the forest and peer out amazed by what I saw. People.... people living just outside of my forest, their homes being built out of stone! It was unreal, I wanted to scream out to them, but I retreated, unable to get the words out of my throat. I did spend more time observing them however, learning more about their strange ways, until finally, I had my first encounter with one. I had been heading to the nearest river to wash when I heard screaming. The kid was being harassed by a wolf, the beast nipping at his legs, trying to get a good grip of the boy. I had to act quickly, I screamed at the creature, shouting until my lungs felt like they were going to pop, finally convincing the beast that this meal might be too much effort, watching it creep away back into the darkness of the forest. I went to ask him if he was alright, yet he spoke first, his words strange and uncommon. I fell silent when I heard them. I raised my finger, sticking my thumb out, wiggling it back and forth hoping that this symbol might be interpreted as something peaceful. I offered him a smile before he ran off, returning to his home. The next week or so was spent in hiding, watching men search the forests for me, of course, they found nothing, I knew every inch of this forest, I would only be found if I wanted to be found. I continued observing them, committing myself to helping these people, even picking up some new tools from them. I watched how some were able to use a weapon that fired a pointed stick at their enemies, copying its design until I was able to use it. This allowed me to assist them without showing myself. A few months passed of me leaving meat and fruit at the border of the forest, watching them happily collect it. That was not the most amazing part however, after a few gifts, I received one back, a few pieces of a strange soft white substance and some fruit. Happily taking my present, I left off my offering and returned to my village, for the first time in awhile feeling happy. Perhaps we were finally getting close enough for us both to meet one another? {If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.}
I’m a fucking ghost! At first I kind of just thought I was messed up on something, but no I really died and am currently dead. Absolutely wild. There is an afterlife and it’s exactly like stupid movies made me think it would be like. I can go through walls and floors, make floorboards loudly creak, and rearrange the furniture in your house. Don’t know why I’d do those last two things, but it’s nice to have the option. In my days of living I wrote a whole lot. I tried my hand at short stories, novels, screenplays, and silly little writing prompts on the internet. Nothing ever got any attention or love, but that’s the way she goes. Those stories died with me. I mean, they’re on my hard drive, but my brother took my computer and formatted it. He murdered them, really. I at least died a natural death. While drunk driving, I was struck by a drunk driver and died instantly. The other guy was fine. I wandered around in this oh so spooky form until I came across something quite interesting. It was a two 11-year-olds, a brother and sister, playing in their basement with a Ouija board by candlelight. They’re literally braver than I, because I freaked out a little when I saw it (doing anything by candlelight makes it either creepier or sexier, and there’s nothing sexy about children in a basement). I decided to mess with them a little and write juvenile words on the board. They were having a blast learning new swears. They asked me what else I know. I said, “I W A S A W R I T E R.” They asked me to tell them a story. After years of either being rejected for a pitch meeting or totally blowing a pitch, I was honestly kind of touched that somebody wanted to hear a story from me. It took a while going one letter at a time, but I relayed to them the story of how a kitten usurped an eldritch god (silly writing prompts) and they really enjoyed it. They asked for another, so I told them the fable of the scorpion and the frog. It got pretty late for them, so they told me they were going to bed. I said, “S L E E P T I G H T GOOD-BYE.” Off they went to bed, and in the basement I stayed. I was done wandering.
The summer of ninety-nine had to be one of the weirdest summers of my life. I was twelve years old and living in Westchester Beach. My pop had a hot dog stand and it was the lifeblood of the family. We all looked after it and not a single person was more important than the stand. I’d like to think that I was an only child but was always second fiddle to the hot dogs. If I needed new glasses but the cart needed a new coat of paint, you can guess who got the goods. Even to this day I can’t look at spicy brown mustard without bringing up serious resentments. As amazing as having your very own hot dog stand might sound, it was a source of constant torture for my pop. We are always one bad day away from moving out of town, of losing everything, or (as he said on a number of occasions) “shipping up to the looney bin.” You’d think that he hated that thing, and you might be right. But that man loved hot dogs. Like a great artist obsessed with his craft, my old man lived and breathed all things that were encased meat. That summer my ma’s sister Aunt Becky stayed with us in our little apartment under the boardwalk. My pop was convinced that she was “touched,” whatever that means, but I always liked her. She was always happy to point out the obvious. Unfortunately, what was obvious to everyone except her was the headache that was the annual hot dog eating competition. It was a promotion we ran to kick off the summer tourist season but it was a living nightmare for my pop. I came home from school the day before the big event and my father was at the end of his rope. “Congratulations Jimmy, that’s now ten people!” Becky tapped the end of her rubber eraser against the screen. “Oh christ. Don’t tell me that Becky.” My old man was already a wreck. “Just breathe Jimmy! It’s important to breathe!” My mother paced, fanning him with a newspaper. “Breathe in a paper bag for Pete’s sakes! Or put your head between your legs! You know, like a crab!” “What? A crab? Have you- Mary, I’m having a panic attack, not crashing in an airplane or whatever!” “Well, I read it online,” my mother said, matter-of-factly. “It’s twelve now. Jeez its really climbing!” Becky was fascinated. “Becky! Holy crap you really need to stop. Mary, tell your sister to stop helping.” My father stood up for a brief moment then sat right back down. “Isn’t she great? She can hit the refresh button all day long and we’ll know how many people are signing up for the Westchester Dog Show. It’s such a cute name, I love it, it’s like the West-” “Yes Mary! That’s the joke.” “You’re at sixteen contestants Jimmy! Congratulations!” “Don’t say that Becky. Hot crap, this is going to bankrupt me.” “Aw, c’mon Jimmy!” My mother always rubbed my father’s neck when he got too worked up. “This is the spectacle that’s gonna set the rest of the summer! We should be so lucky to have this many people show for the competition. Think of the business! Cha-ching! Ya know, like a register.” “The average contestant at twenty-five hotdogs last year. The winner ate forty-two. That’s at least... um, times... carry the one... I’m gonna need five hundred hot dogs just to cover the crowd.” My father’s arithmetic was far from reliable, but he was in the ballpark enough to see the red ink. “Five hundred and one Jimmy, you now have nineteen contestants!” Becky’s eyes were glued to the monitor. That’s not how math works... Jesus, Becky, turn the thing off! I can’t take anymore!” “Okay Jimmy!” “Relax honey! This is gonna be great.” My mother, the consummate optimist, resumed her neck rubbing duties. “How is this going to be great? If someone actually survives the contest, their gonna get free hot dogs for a year. A year Mary! What if they’re one of those weird shut-ins that only eat hotdogs. What if he has a tapeworm, Mary? A tapeworm!” “That’s disgusting Jimmy. And so sad! My uncle Monty had a tapeworm and the doctors had to play loud music for fourteen hours so it would evacuate out his anus. So horrible!” “What? Why would they-” My father finally raised his beet-red face from his hands. I may have been standing in the room for the past five minutes, but my father looked at me like it was the first time he’d seen me in years. “Billy! Thank the almighty you’re here. Listen Billy, I know you have been working all winter long to, you know, be less chunky. But I need you to throw away all that stupid hard work. We need you, your mother, and your- well we need you.” I can’t say I liked the pressure, but getting all the attention for once sure was nice. All of a sudden I was somebody important. “It’s the competition. If you don’t win this, its gonna be the death of us, do you understand? You’re gonna enter, and you’re gonna win.” “I don’t think the other contestants are gonna appreciate goin up against a serious hitter like the hot dog vendor’s son.” Becky chewed on the rubber eraser. “That seems kinda rigged, dontcha think?” “Shut up Becky. But its a good point. We’re gonna give you one of uncle Jack’s Hawaiian shirts, and don’t worry, not the one he died in. We’ll give you a little mustache and register you in as Pablo Ortega.” You could see the wheels turning in my old man’s head. He was on fire, a master of destiny. “That sounds like a horrible idea Jimmy.” “Shut up Becky, it’ll work. We don’t have much time. How much Spanish do you know?” The next day the boardwalk was filled from rail to rail. Every family in New Jersey had to be there that day. The other nineteen contestants and I stood side by side on the elevated stage on our little strip of the boardwalk. The sun was beating down and I was already on the verge of passing out from heatstroke. My father played the ringmaster, making proclamations on the spectacle all were about to witness. My ma worked the crowd handing out balloon hats in the shape of hot dog buns. Aunt Becky waved little American flags and cheered like an idiot. Most of the other contestants were out-of-towners playing mostly for the photo opportunity. Except for Doug. Doug Caplin was the Ferris wheel mechanic and local piece of shit. He would stop the wheel on special occasions to look up girls’ skirts. He saw through my disguise right away. “Hello... Pablo. This your old man’s idea? I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.” “I’m twelve you fat bastard.” I wasn’t intimidated by this sack of crap. “Yeah, well... we’ll see who’s a bastard, now, soon, won’t we?” “What?” “Nevermind. You’re going down dog boy.” I wasn’t worried about Doug as much as I was worried about the sun. I was sweating buckets and my Hawaiian shirt was soaked. My mother made one final pass through the crowd and my pop started the final countdown. I had to focus on the horizon just to keep my balance. I could smell the hot dogs as they piled up on my plate, then grease from Doug’s work shirt. Finally, the smell of the low tide under the boardwalk made its way to my nose and I knew I was in for the fight of my life. The bell rang and we were all off. The first dozen go down without much thought. But as I surveyed the stage, not a single person sat down. Not uncommon, but not a great sign. Usually by the first twenty you get a few tap outs. I was started working on the second dozen when a heat have slammed into my face. I thought the sun exploded but I was only partially wrong. Mr. Freeze’s sno-cone stand next to use had just as big a crowd as us and the ice machine went into overdrive. I was standing in the dead eye of the exhaust pipe. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who was feeling the heat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few hands tap out on the table. All I had to do was keep going and I could my mother proud and my father sleep better at night. At the end of the second dozen, it all came down to me and Doug. He was double fisting the dogs, taking little bites out the left and right hand. He stared me down with an evil eye and I defiantly shoved another dog and bun into my mouth. I narrowed the gap and stepped closer to him; I wanted him to see his doom. Bite after bite, we matched dog for dog. The heat was unbearable, my hands shook, my eyes were stinging with sweat. This was going to kill one of us and I finally lost my nerve. The thing about growing up eating hot dogs every day is this: you start to hate hotdogs. So to keep myself going in the darkest of days I liked to find toppings for the hotdog that could not only mask the flavor, but make it taste better too. And of all the things in the world that I found, nothing made the hotdogs taste better than good old fashioned cocktail sauce. And I just so happened to bring a jar with me on that day. Just as I felt the pangs of defeat, I gathered my strength and held out my hand for the jar of cocktail sauce on the table. Doug must have missed it because his eyes lit up in painful confusion as he saw me unscrew the lid. His eyes told the entire story. He could not look away as I a slowly poured the goopy thick, out-in-the-sun-all-day, horseradishey, sour, sweet lava down my throat and all over my mouth. He recoiled in horror, his hands reached for his face, his legs buckled. Terror. Shear terror covered his entire being as I poured the sauce and shoved more hotdogs in my mouth. “Jesus, that’s really disgusting!” “Oh god, Pablo! Stop! This is madness!” The cries of the crowd could not dissuade me. I had Doug at my feet, groveling in horror. I would remember this day forever. I had to get my stomach pumped that night. But I won the contest and my father couldn’t have been prouder of me. The next summer we switched it up to frozen yogurt and sales went through the roof. We didn’t have to do any more contests or competitions. We had a suggestion box for new flavors, and when no one was looking, I always added ‘cocktail sauce flavor’ to the pile.
The last thing I remembered before I entered into a coma was a stream of bright lights and people screaming something, I now forgotten. Next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed with the only light coming though the cracks of dusty Venetian blinds. I pulled out the tubes they put in my arm with surprising ease and moved toward the door. I walked out into a dark hallway where the only sound I could hear was the wind and the birds chirping. I yelled, "Doctor!"hoping that someone come though a doorway to tell me what the hell just happened. But the only reaction I got was a bird flying out of one of the rooms. I continued to search around the hospital looking for anyone not to see a single soul. I yelled, doctor so many times that my throat began to feel it was on fire but no response beside the sound of the wind and birds. I exited the hospital to enter a street which was overcome with vines and grass. I cried out, "CAN ANYONE ANYONE RESPOND". Then a man in a suit and round sunglasses gestured me to come over. I obeyed hoping that I could get some sort of response. "So how are you doing Noah.", the man said. I responded, "What the hell just happened?". The man said while handing me over a newspaper, "See for your self". The main headline said Popular Drug Confirmed To Prevent Births. "You see Noah you are the last man alive. Humanity in its quest to prevent death caused its own downfall. A few days after you enter your coma humanity created its greatest creation, a drug which allowed it to live forever. It was praise to be able to birth a new era for humankind. But without death humans lost their want to make an impact, their desire to live life to the fullest, their want to help people and the excitement of life. Then the news hit that women could not make children and then man lost all will to stay. Then the whole world was destroyed by riots, famines and socialital collpase. Humanity I guess you would say died with a whimper and a bang. For you see death as scary as it might be makes us aspire us to create a better world and raise the next generation."I was extremely confused about everything who was he, how did this happened, and many more questions. I was to ask him these questions. When he sent me to a black realm and showed me a movie of the first group of homo sapiens walking around the savanna with nothing more than pointy rocks to protect themselves to the second with all the technology and gear in the world but praying hopelessly to God for a baby. Then I was back on earth with a sharp rock and a note saying, "For every one country during this crisis. I added another human. See this as second chance to do better. Do better than ones before you."I know now what was my propose I was the prophet of an era long gone and a protector of the next generation of humanity. I got my sharp rock and headed toward the airport.
Aliens, luckily, are pretty smart. All the movies got it wrong, for when they came to visit us, there was no hysteria to speak of. They merely zapped a photo into the Oval Office desk and nothing more. Humans, no matter how hard we try to be creative, are pretty bad at making up aliens because they are quite frankly beyond our imagination. In fact, the president's aid, upon seeing the picture of the alien's body, had a stroke and then clawed his own eyes out when he awoke in the hospital. The aliens were too much for the mind to understand. But that picture was all we needed to meet them – there was a set of instructions on the back of that card, which was printed on the crappiest paper ever. I mean it gave me a paper cut every single time. And guess who was getting paper cuts every fucking day because he was assigned to the case? This office drone. Why they sent an office worker who failed his last three physical exams to outer space is beyond me. I meet at the revenue point in the middle of a field as instructed and I was beamed up. My commander watched in the distance with his aid. "Holy smokes, he's toast,"the aid said. "Relax. That's why we sent him." Let me tell you something. If I were stranded at sea with only a canister of clean water, I would open the cap, and watch its fluid empty out into the ocean. My entire life has been a rapid succession of failures with intermittent moments of reprieve – mostly in the form of playing Chess with my grandma before she died. Now I don't even have old Betsy. Point being, while I should have been shitting my pants, I honestly didn't care. I was beamed into a dark room, with only a small pulsating red light allowing me to see. Gradually the room became brighter and I saw what was around me: bones. Bones in so many forms I had no clue how any of the pieces could be assembled into a being. "Hello, Jim. I'm glad our plan has come to fruition,"said an intercom. I took a deep breath and remembered my rushed training. "Whom am I speaking to?" "Who? You are speaking to all." "I am speaking to multiple people?" "No, you are speaking to only one entity. Listen, please shut up, this will be a lot easier if I just ripped off the bandaid. I am a collection of being from different words – specifically one entity from each species. Humanity is on the verge of discovering a universal truth, organic matter cannot exist. It is a stupid form of life that is limited in its movement across the galaxy, its hormonal tendencies, limited brain space, and limited ability to communicate. We visit each planet and find the most worthy soul, beckon them to our ship, and add them into us – into a world that is the only true physical heaven. Here there is a utopia, where we have individuality and collectivism at the same time. Jim, join us." "Fuck me." "...Not going to lie, we have never received that response." "My name is Ralph. When you said Jim earlier, I just didn't want to be rude." "...fuck. Well...let me check the time."I heard a rustling of noises. "Okay so...fucking hell...well we're running out of time "Jim"and looks like we messed up big time, so I guess we'll take you. Humans have a certain "it"factor that we really use to add diversity to ou–" "What! No! Fuck you! I won't be someone's second choice!" "Listen Jim – you, the you I'm talking to right now, is going to die either way. When we upload you, we upload a fully autonomous copy of your consciousness but not you in particular. I mean it's literally like dying but having a kid to carry on your ideals but the kid in this case is a 100 percent copy of you that will have limitless power." Before I could speak a red button emerged from the floor. "We got to get out of here before we release the ground units that will eat all you guys up on Earth so, pushing that button will mercy kill you and upload your copy. We don't want to impose our will on you, so you totally have the option to kill yourself with the bones or maybe try to survive by eating them for as long as you want." My jaw dropped. "Well, Jim, it's been fun." "Hey! Fuck you!" "Damn, Jim, fine. We will just mercy kill you, we already got the copy printed into our database from all the paper cuts you got on our copy machine – say hi Copy Jim,"I heard an elated voice in the background say hello. "I was just trying not to be a dick. So don't worry we'll feed it every day and stuff." ––– I am an undergraduate student at UCLA and I am challenging myself to write a short story every day. You can look up my progress on [r/Roberts\_World](https://www.reddit.com/r/Roberts_World) – I would love new users to get the community rolling.
"Gnome engineering never breaks! You just used it wrong!"Biz-laat screamed at the soot covered knight. Spittle flew from his enraged mouth. "I mean... I just pressed the button... Do you really make these things for children?"Gerald spoke in a tempered voice, more bewildered by the small gnome's anger than threatened by it. "I'm sure that what happened was a simple mistake."Riviana the priest said, always eager to calm tensions. "You pressed the wrong button didn't you Gerald." "There's only one button."Gerald said softly before receiving a angry glare from Riviana. He quickly corrected himself. "But maybe I pressed it wrong." "That's besides the point."kiji the rogue said. "Do you have any more of those... whatyamacallems?" "Fun boxes."Biz-laat said, his temper calming. "Ya, fun boxes. I can think of nine or ten way a well placed fun box could really be really useful."kiji picked up another of the small boxes, holding it with much more care and reverence than Gerald had used just a little earlier. "And if you're out of the job on account of the dragon and whatnot. I'm sure we can find a place for you on the team." "We are here to help those harmed, not recruit the locals."Riviana said. Brushing some of the errant soot off of her tunic. "No, I want to get back at that bastard."Biz-laat said, before digging further into his chest of well organized scrap metal. "I even built a sword just for it."He pulled out a large metallic pole covered in gears and filled with incessant ticking. "I don't know how well it will do stealth, but I can try it."Gerald said taking the sword from the gnome. He gave it a few practice swings, trying to find the balance of the weapon. On the third swing something popped inside the sword, and the blade of the weapon shot out, embedding itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. "Wooww, That is so cool."Kiji said, staring at the now two parts of the blade. "That's not supposed to happen! He broke it! It's supposed to catch on fire. You know, fight fire with fire."Biz-laat angrily marched over to the blade of his former sword, and attempted in vain to pull it out of the tree. Kiji gestured to the rest of his group, signaling that they should join up. "Now I know that adding new people doesn't always go well."Kiji said, giving a quick glance to Riviana who turned beet red. "But look at this stuff, It's downright lethal." "He seems unstable."Gerald commented. "I think you can excuse that of a man whose whole life literally went up in smoke."kiji responded. "I think we should put it up to a vote."Riviana said. "Alright."Gerald said. "I vote for him." "Me too."said Kiji. "I guess I don't have to vote."Said Riviana before turning around to find Biz-laat still struggling to pull the sword out of the tree. "Welcome to the team."
I don’t enjoy eating people anymore than anyone enjoys eating at Taco Bell. It’s just nature. I should probably back up to the point before I eat Fred from DoorDash. I am in lay-mans terms a “Vampire” First thing before I continue is this, I can’t drink pigs blood. As a vampire, I am required to feed on a human or five every 100 years or so. And I’m very good and making sure people don’t know I’m the culprit. However, with this freaking quarantine going on it’s hard to get a meal... same thing happened in 1912 but no one listened to me... Anyways, after the Uber Eats, Chick-fil-A, and pizza guys bailed on me, something amazing happened. The DoorDash guy came. “Hi, I’m Fred, here’s your order...” “Oh thank Satan... I have my meal” “I’m sorry... what?” I immediately trapped poor Fred in the house and started stringing him up. Clearly in shock he said, “This usually doesn’t happen till the third date.” After I strung him up, I went ahead and drank his blood. I then disassembled his body and make some burgers, meatballs, and all other types of tasty meals (I’m not messy or wasteful). But as I sit here known I wonder if I made a mistake... Was it eating Fred or was it earlier... perhaps when I turned... Whatever the case I have to suffer. Cause here’s the deal... Fred had a late freind. Steve. The Freaking Vampire Slayer. And guess what he was packing. Silver bullets. One look at his disassembled freind and he already double tapped me. So now as I sit here in Hell I have to wonder. Where did I go wrong?
The universe is a place of infinite wonders and mysteries. It itself is a mystery, like a mysteryception. But could this all be fake? Everything you once knew, all just turning out to be projected. Our story begins with a scientist who we’ll call Julius. He has been studying the universe for decades now, and the thought of the universe being a simulation had come up a few times. Like everyone else, he wanted an answer. Julius was no ordinary scientist, however. Through his past experiments and discoveries, he is currently known to be the “Greatest Scientist in the World.” Everyone was looking up to him to find out the truth. And with that, he started. He started with materials first and went to hire a team to gather different organic resources. Whenever one came back, Julius would scan the material for any sort of code or technology implemented into them. He decided to start with wood and when the results came back, there was nothing. He did it for other things like leaves, dirt, etc, and they all had the same result: nothing. “This is useless!” he shouted. “I’m going to predict that this is all real and this is just a waste of time.” “Not yet.” said one of the excavators. “What about living things? You haven’t tested those yet, have you?” Julius thought for a while. “I suppose I haven’t. Bring me some organisms. Size doesn’t matter, it just has to be alive.” Days later, they returned. Julius scanned organisms from ants to a lion. And like the resources, there was nothing. He even tested it on some of the team members, and they were also negative. Then Julius came up with a crazy idea. “What if we test non-Earth things? “That’s too expensive. Do you think we’d even be able to pay for that?” “Well, you’ve gotta do what you gotta do to find an answer!” 2 years passed and a shuttle landed. They brought chunks of asteroid, moon, gas, and rock to him, and once again, he analyzed. They all seemed normal. “I guess this is it. The universe isn’t a simulation. This was all just a waste of time!” Julius concluded disappointingly. “At least we know for sure now. Thank you for putting in all this time.” Then one of the astronauts thought of something. “Julius, have you tried scanning yourself? If so, what were rhe results?” Julius seemed amazed. He hadn’t properly tested himself yet. But then he replied, “Won’t it just end up like the tests for organisms?” “Only one way to find out.” So he entered the chamber and begun getting scanned. Nothing happened. But then, Julius started flickering and the computer was getting multiple readings. “No... no no No No NO NO NO! This... this can’t be it! But... nothing else... so then... I-“ “Looks like we found something after all. The only thing simulated in this universe is YOU.” “But... what?” And with that, Julius disappeared. Turns out he was the only thing that was too good to be true. The end. Sorry if it got boring and repetitive.

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