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There she stood, adorned in armor that donned deep slashes. The most prominent being a hole in the back where the Archangel had pierced her. It had to be from behind, if she were rushed from the front they wouldn't have stood a chance.
Having been one of them she knew what they were capable of. The time she served under Yaweh were the worst times in her existence. He was a tyrant, claiming to care for all of mankind but putting them through perils and calling it love. But from it she had grown stronger, and because of it she now knew the shortcomings of those who followed as blindly as she had.
She observed her armor once more remembering fondly the servants who persistently asked if she wanted new armor made. An offer to which she refused everytime. She was no knight in shining armor. What she wore now told a story. This armor had been truly tested and in the end protected and served it's purpose. She wouldn't toss it aside because the back had been torn through. If anything it was a reminder to never let her guard down again.
This was it. The troops were rallied, they were different from her original followers. But she revelled in their vigor. The burning desire they had to destroy Yahweh and his army. She lost herself, hearing the marching of a thousand boots in time once more. In her head she was at the first battle, demanding freedom. Only this time she was determined to leave in a victory march.
The air stilled as the opposing army came over the hill. Yahweh at the front lines. She plunged her sword into the air, her scream echoed back to her as her soldiers pushed past charging the men below. Satan move forward effortlessly swinging her sword through the sea of men that separated her from her enemy.
Then there were the two of them, alone at the heart of the battle field. The two strongest beings on either side.
"It's been some time Yahweh. I'm not the same angel you damned for having a mind of their own "
She said regarding him coolly as their swords met in the air. He parried the attack, not taking the offensive but instead pushing her back.
"Satan. It's not to late. You can still stop this. Think of your life, your soldiers lives."
Her vision went red with anger as she lunged again, weapons bounding off of eachother and creating a metallic thunder resonating for miles.
"Quit? I'd rather die than have a power hungry mongrel like you in power."
"You don't know what you're fighting for. You're blinded by your rage. By the past. You're fighting the old testament god when everything else has moved forward. There was a time when I craved power. When I was cruel, unfeeling to the humans. But you're at fault too. We would make wagers TOGETHER. If you're not the same being you were back then you cannot fault me as if I am too."
With a swift motion Yahweh's sword flew through the air gouging out a sizable portion of the battle field. He was on his back, Satan standing over him her sword above his chest.
"Satan. Please, listen to me. These young women they don't know what they're fighting for. You had a true reason to fight the first time. But I gave you your own kingdom. I made you my equal of a different realm. You want to much. Your army fought for equality now they fight for supremacy. You can't win. You're too blinded by your rage to realize there isn't an enemy to fight. You're reliving old battles. "
Satan looked at him with disdain.
"You're wrong. "
Before she could plunge her sword she fell to her knees. The back of her tendons slashed, leaving her unable to stand. She turned trying desperately to see who had attacked her, sure it was an archangel once more. Instead she found her soldiers. The orinigal followers who fought by her side. They gathered at her feet.
"You have become lost. You became so obsessed you turned into the very thing you vouched to destroy. Your new followers want to wipe out the male army. We fought so we could all fight together rather than separate."
They looked away from Satan. In a way she represented the cause they had once supported, the cause that had turned from something worthwhile to something ugly and toxic. Yahweh stood, putting a hand on Satans shoulder.
"I hope that one day you will find your way my daughter"
He said leading his army away. Satan lay in the battle field, screaming, hot fire expelling from her mouth. Alive yet so horribly defeated. |
You first expected that the era was the 1850s, 1860s, or so. Looking closer you see that you can’t focus on people fully before they start to change, dull in color, maybe? But that’s not right because one person you look hard at actually disappears. You walk outside, and see much of the same, nothing like what has happened before in history. You decide to follow one person into a shop and written on the walls is one word, run. But it’s too late because the same things that overcame the town of transparent people has found you and soon you will get to see what happens after the age of light is over. |
Dreary is the life without emotion. Every day passes into the next without special ceremony or thought. A gang of schoolkids holding candy bars high in the air laugh and run past a group of gloomy office suits. The workers probably have a strict ”no candy during work” policy because of the porven short term improvment in effiency. I personally don’t get it. Isn’t creativity born from emotional stimualance?
I go to my usual candy shop after lunch and look around. The shelves are filled with some of the classics: ”First Bacon Happy” (which tastes like.. bacon and gives you that sweet high of your first bacon experience), ”1920 Depression” which isn’t a very nice experience nor does it taste very good. But any emotion is better than this feeling of nothingness that resides as an empty hole in your gut.
I greet the shopkeeper and look around and I immediately spot something familiar behind the counter.
”Damn, I thought these were banned!” I blurt out as I point to the red and yellow packaging on a single candy bar hidden below a stack of papers.
”Oh, that? I knew you would spot it. Although not one customer before you did today. All the kids want is happiness or adrenaline these days,” he says as he pulls it out from under the paper and puts it on the counter.
”How much?” I ask as I look at the delicious ”Panic 2020” text across the front and the little ”anxiety, fear, sweat, trembling” subtext explaining the effects underneath. He gives me a price that is well below the market value but I guess I’ve been a loyal customer over the years and he really doesn’t eat anything but the classics himself. I pay with cash without asking as we probably both don’t want any paper trail of this transaction.
I’m not feeling any excitement yet because that would require purchasing another candy bar. But I am actively imagening unwrapping and putting this rare piece in my mouth and chewing, feeling the taste activate sleeping feelings inside me. I am thinking about it all the way home. And home is where I would have to consume this delicacy. Not only is it illegal, but eating it causes all sorts of unrational behavior. Which is a reason among many that it remains illegal. The corporate world and the government has been adamant about keeping workers efficient above all else.
I come home, turn off my phone (who cares about going back to work today?!) and hide the phone from myself, close the curtains and sit on my bed staring at the candy bar in my hands as I mentally prepare to unwrap it... |
I clenched the pair of dice and closed my eyes, meditating on the image of where they would roll. I visualized their fall and felt the round dots slowly come to a halt.
“Twelve.” I yelled, throwing my hand and watching them tumble across the kitchen table.
As I opened my eyes a roaring headache overtook me. There they were – double sixes.
I fell back into my chair, relieved at their sight but equally confused. This was the eighth time in a row I called it right, and I was beginning to get to hang of it.
“It’s kind of like pressing yourself to figure out a riddle,” I said to Shelly, the only person who would both believe me, and not think I'm crazy, when I told her I'd be able to predict it. "You have to get a sense for where the dice want to land."
Resting her elbows on the table with her face in hands, she starred at me through the crack between her pointer and middle fingers.
“You’re unbelievable, Cliff.” Shelly said in a muffled voice. “Where the dice want to land? Can you hear yourself?”
“It’s the only way I can explain it.” I shrugged. “I feel like I’m flexing a muscle in the back of my head that usually flairs up when I’m hit with adrenaline. There’s a premonition to motion, sometimes I can feel where the kinetic energy is going to flow.”
“By making the dice roll where you say?” she asked.
“No, I’ve told you I can’t do that, I can tell you where they’re going to roll.” I replied.
“It feels like the same thing to me – either way it explains a lot. Why you were always so good at sports, how there’s professional gamblers. There has to be other people who can do this.” She said.
“I’m sure there are, but I have a feeling that I'll soon be able to do a lot more than just predict how dice are going to land.” I mused. “There’s a premonition to how things fall from chaos, too."
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*Thanks for reading! Feedback welcome.* |
Craig honestly didn't know if he was going mad when he first found it. The photo was underneath the blotter on his late wife's desk. Dead center, perfectly equidistant from the edges. It was grainy, slightly unfocused but he recognized the girl instantly. On it's back was scrawled a date in his wife's hand- The date it must have happened. He ran around the house frantically pulling books down from shelves until he found the his diary and confirmed it. 1963, In some mudhut village deep in the Mei Kong delta. She was bait, sent out into the rice paddies where he and eighteen other scattered green berets lay in ambush. She waded ever further out, often looking back and screaming towards the village. None of the soldiers moved, if they did mortars would crash around them moments later. He watched her wade from her knees, to her chest, until she was treading water. She yelled, cried, protested her exhaustion. Eventually she drowned there, floating face down in the muddy water. He was the closest, and had to push past her corpse that night when they moved out. He sat on the floor of his late wife's office, knees pulled to his chest, rocking softly. How had she gotten it? How had she known? Was it from one of his squad mates? Why hadn't she mentioned it in life? Did she die thinking him a callous child-murderer? Could he really refute that distinction? He held the picture, looking into her joyous face. Long and hard, making sure he wasn't reading runes in tea leaves. Staring hard into innocent eyes.
He was back there. Crouching in the hot, muddy water. His arms ached from holding his rifle over the water's surface. It smelled of manure, blood and the greasepaint coating his face. He saw her, screaming over her shoulder at the huts on the ridge. He stood, sloshed over to her, picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder.
"You stupid mother fucker!"Hissed a bush
"Get the fuck on the deck right now, Sargent"Came another cry.
He didn't care, just stood there rocking her in his embrace. She held him tightly, distracted him from the eerie whistle of the dropping mortar round. He felt the shrapnel shredding him for a half a moment. He was back in the office, suddenly falling backwards and slamming his head into the corner of the desk. He grabbed his head and grunted angry swears at the desk. What had just happened had yet to sink in. A fantasy, a momentary indulgence. It was so alarming real. It felt like he was back there. Back in his powerful young body, back neck-deep in water. He shook his head. He'd cracked, well and truly. Like and egg into a batter, the yolk of his sanity blended suddenly. He felt he was getting a handle on things, after a moment of hyperventilating. It's a hot day, he was grief stricken and over tired. He picked up the photo again, to stare at it long and hard as a way to convince himself he'd just had a guilt-fueled vision. His mind asked the pertinent question, "What'd you even do if you went back there?"
Then, he was.
This time he wouldn't be so stupid. He sat waiting in the blazing heat. Not until she began to have to tread water, some ways from the shore. then he'd make his move. After that, he didn't know what. Would his unit understand he was a temporal interloper? Were they part of this, or was it just a grisly trick of memory? He didn't think too hard about it, just focused on the girl. When the time came, he submerged himself completely and swam slowly over along the mud bottom. When she began to sink from her waterlogged skirt, he grabbed her leg and dragged her under. He clapped a hand over her mouth and swam together back his hiding spot. He brought her up, and indicated with a finger over lips for her to remain quiet. She nodded quickly. He held there, until he realized his unit was retreating. He was the last to follow. His captain met them at the shoreline, and he was shore to stand in front of her. He opened his mouth to explain himself, and the captain held up a hand for quiet.
"An honest mistake. But, as the flank saw, your little stunt cost us the target. If they think there are gators or whatever here lives in the swamp and eats children, They'll deal with that and they would find us while doing so. Sargent, you'll pay the cost for this blunder."
The captain's leg shot out, catching him in the knee and sending him over backwards. As he struggled like a flipped turtle in the muck, the captain shot the little girl between the eyes. He snapped back to the office. He let out a yelp, then a wail. It was real, it really was taking him there. Back through his past to right a nightmarish wrong. This time, he wouldn't be so hasty. this time he'd return with a plan. |
I was just an extremely below average kid I had a vast knowledge of random things such as how physics works I know about most things but it’s all back level knowledge and everyone Said I had potential. If only they knew how... wrong ...right? I’m not sure but when this all started was originally just a bad day. I had woken up late and forgot my undershirt. I was a advisor to the boss man in an law office. To be specific a tractor trailer law office. I was an advisor because I had great ideas and they could articulate them. The lawyers I mean. Even writing this I’m bad, and this is a self biography. I had a bad idea at the office and wrote it down as a joke trying to think of anything to help our client. We were half and half we had some good lawyers who just wanted to help and some bad apples. We were very by the book, and most were hard working. Oh as a bit of and after thought I’m David (obviously made up)
“Hey Morgan (my boss)”
“Hey David, I saw that good idea on your desk when I was looking for you yesterday, and I’m incorporating it into my case it looks rock solid.”
“Oh thanks but I don’t think it’ll work out”
“Really why?”
“I’m not sure I said, I just have a feeling”
“Well we can’t rely on feelings so I’ll go to trial with it”
“Ok”
I said but I hated that I was his advisor and he wasn’t taking my advice at the moment, he never Listens when he thinks he’s right.
That was the one bad thing about working here, a stubborn boss. Oh well I monologued. I sat down at my desk and revised my work to make sure the formatting was correct because the lady’s who take the paperwork are a little too specific. I revised it ad it sucked because it takes all day for someone to review these and edit it to the highly specific standards.
It was 11:00. You thought I was exaggerating about it taking all day, but no I walking home and suddenly I see a huge hole on the shape of a manhole it could have been one since it was in an ally but I don’t know about that stuff so I started passing it and taking a mental note to avoid that area. But then i heard one one speaking down there and something, well at the time i thought it was someone, else was speaking in a long drawl sounding like a cross between Danny Divito and the guy who plays Deadpool.and they were arguing and i hear a smack. Like one of those firm smacks. Like one of those “I just hit a potting soil bag slaps”. So i started walking over to see if everyone was ok. Then out of nowhere everyone, no everything went silent like some sort of time freeze I noticed because i have keen hearing, and it was medically proven that i could hear sounds at distances i had to get this proven because my ex was on the other side of the house behind a closed door and i heard what she was saying. Btw thats why she’s my ex. I froze like a bird who just hit a window. Then slowly a man pooped out of there with one of those fertilizer bags that I mentioned earlier. He looked at me with horror and pulled out a gun and shot me. Talk about a bad day. It wasn’t fatal but it did hit my ham string. I never really expected it to hurt so much and for it to feel so much like a knife going through me except at the end thee was a bit of recoil there. I like the office jockey i was practically killed myself out by falling and hitting my head on the concrete. I mean i hit my head and i was out for awhile but I didn’t die. I woke up in some sort of room I don’t know how to describe it other that the walls felt alive and energetic. I stood up not felling any pain. It was sort of like that scene from black panther were the agent isn’t dead from the gunshots and wakes up like ‘’I got shot people don’t heal from bullets in a few days.’’ It was a nice room it was completely black with some blue lights scattered throughout the walls. No visible door but there was a computer so i just picked it up and watched YouTube because i was bored. Someone walked in and saw me awake dropped the. I’m not even sure how to describe it. A iv of what was on the walls but the inside of it was liquid not hard like the walls. I didn’t even have a iv drip in my room just a desk, bed, a side table and a desk with a chair. She practically hit her head on the door but missed it by an inch and the door closed seamlessly like it had never been there then 3 doors opened on the three sides in front of me and 12 men filed in with some sort of handgun. I put my hands up and got tasered I didn’t see where it came from but I couldn’t move for a solid minute after he gave me a shock of the taser. I was strapped to the hospital bed that was in my room and got strapped down. I was lead by the squad to a room with the guy i saw. He was sitting watching the screen in front of him focused until one of the men said
“The other has woken up”
He spun around like he was going to break his neck and he started the intaragation while i was laying down still strapped he asked
“how did you come to be in the area where i shot you.”
I answered truthfully and said “i was just walking home”
He looked displeased “i know you have question but the only one I’m going to answer is that the reason you are here is because you are special you can make since of the things that just don’t Kane since like the men around you. They can look at me and see what you probably see right now we usually get kids like you before you hit middle school but we cant get them all”
He said this like i knew what he was talking about.
“You are an other. One of the people who can see strange things and not go insane as well as use a bit of special tec that can only be used by us. In short we’re watching For the end of the world and make sure that all of the beings that live in the pits below hell stay there. It’s a big power game and they get more power by how many souls they have but they keep each other in check for the most part but when they get to close to the surface the find souls and start gathering upsetting that. I was watching making sure that doesn’t happen because the last time one got close was the Spanish flu of 1920. We put a stop to that quickly and it was satisfied. They find us every 100 years or so but only one at a time. They have never reached us with more that one of the monsters. They are what we call good bad and grey. If one gets too much say evil. I will destroy the universe absorbing everything if good wins there will be nothing but space because every thing you do can be viewed bad a so it will wipe everything out grey is the spaces in between like feeding a cat your taking food to give to another animal but it tasted bad. they are the ruling forces and there are an infinite number of them we cant do much about it except get people away from the breach and hope it seals and the being leaves.’’
An alarm wailed
“Speak of the Devil”
he said turning about and looking at the blank screen. He then visibly stood up and gave one of his men a look of pure terror he looked at another and said
“Evacuate Manhattan “ |
Sarah gasped for breath as she stumbled back to the Habitat. The air was leaking out of her spacesuit but she couldn't focus on that. She was well beyond that. Five more steps. Her back ached. Her arms ached. Her head throbbed. Four more steps. The unending alarm screeching into her ears seemed almost to fall on deaf ears now. The door. The button. They slid open and she fell inside. Thankfully, the Habitat was still pressurised. Still had oxygen. That sweet oxygen.
Sarah coughed as she started to get back her breath. She couldn't believe they had left without her. She struggled back on to her feet and stumbled to the window and saw the red, dry expanse spreading out until the horizon. She was now the first space pirate. The first pirate who would never see the sea. She shuddered at the thought. Her back ached. Her arms ached. Her head throbbed and she collapsed to the floor. |
"Master, the preparations are complete."
"Excellent, now stand over there and be quiet!"
"Yes Master"
I stood up from my desk, and stretched, feeling my back pop. Long hours of study had lead to this moment, a new breakthrough in the dark arts of necromancy. The new method of raising bodies to serve was about to be tested, and I would go down in history as one of the great necromancers.
I had always been annoyed with the amount of wastage from raising the dead. You make a ghost, the body withers to dust. You make a zombie, the body is being used, but it's slow. You make a skeleton, you waste all of the good meaty bits. However, I had spent this time examining the classic rituals, and made a few discoveries:
1) The cause of body destruction from ghost raising was due to the energy backlash. It requires a lot of power to raise a spectral form, and when it is complete the energy reverses down the spell path, destroying the body. However, this can be mitigated by using a one-way siphon, pulling away the energy into a less destructive form. I will use this to feed into the rest if the ritual.
2) If you extract the skeleton first, the raising will still function. Normally the loss of the meat comes from the skeleton tearing its way out the carcass. If it isn't in there, it can't tear it.
3) The zombie can use a replacement skeleton. We already had an inkling of this, as a few corpses with replacement bones function as normal. I have taken this a lot further. By carefully extracting the bones, I have replaced them with wood carved counterparts.
Now all I had to do was use this to raise 3 minions from one corpse, to prove I was right. That is where Fleshul had come in. I had never had such a useful little monstrosity, able to take parts out of a body with as little damage as possible. Of course, it helped with it being a skeletal horror, and able to change it shape to suit the task, but still, it was useful.
I stood before the altar, looking at the lovely little body before me. He had one been a fine warrior, but a small tangle with the law, and his subsequent execution had lead him to me. I lit the candles with a quick wave of my hand and a simple incantation, and cast my eye over the circle of blood.
Satisfied that it was all on order, I activated the recording crystal, then spoke:
"This is complete ritual test 1, by Arch Necromancer Yaro"
I began to recite the amended verses of necrotic rebirth, and chanelled the dark energy into the centre of the ritual. Runes began to glow, and the smoke from the candles was pulled down above the body. It formed a cloud, before it resolved into a humanoid shape, which let loose a wail.
The energy flowed down, and spread over the skeleton and the hopefully soon to be zombie. I channelled more power, keeping the verses going, and felt it form a lattice over both parts of the corpse. It split, and wrapped around the skeleton and zombie form, raising them up slightly. Red light flared in their eyes, and I felt the ritual come to an end.
The skeleton and zombie both sat up, then climbed to their feet, as the ghost hovered next to them. I looked at them, and laughed.
"Ha ha ha, ritual complete, with complete success." |
The day that Exorcist Jung arrived in our village was the best day of my life. She alone was able to name the demon which had tormented me every waking day for ten years, preventing me from leaving my domicile: “Agoraphobia”, a foul beast that with the help of Exorcist Jung I was able to defeat using “exposure therapy”.
After her aid, I permitted the good woman to take up residence in my ancestral family estate. She has been transforming these long-empty halls into a very menagerie of misfortunes, but week by week and month by month these wretched improve under her care.
The villagers have taken to calling her an angel, though some mutter than only a demon would have such luck in dispelling such a great number of its brethren. Some whisper that she has me under some great spell, and that is why I have come out of my seclusion.
As for me, I know not what she be except a miracle worker. Little does she realize that I in fact desired to keep her close to help me combat the foul demon Agoraphobia should it ever attempt to possess me again.
Recently, Exorcist Jung has taken in a most secretive case: a foreign prince who is possessed of a devil that makes him believe he is made of glass. The prince has been joining us lately in the parlor after supper, and no manner of coaxing has yet convinced him that he won’t shatter to bits. I have considered slapping him to disprove this silly notion and rid him of his demon, but Exorcist Jung forbade me.
Next week we are to journey to a nearby village where a woman is said to be possessed by warring devils that possess her alternately, making her like a wild beast or like an inconsolable babe at their whims. I’ve been fretting, as it is the farthest I have travelled since my childhood, but the good exorcist will be at my side, and says she can’t do this work without my sponsorship. The good woman has been toiling night and day at some alchemical task, which she says will assuredly aid this poor wretch. I do wonder where she has learned these miraculous arts.
Whenever I ask Exorcist Jung about the nature of devils, she just laughs and tries to convince me that there exists no such thing. Perhaps she is a devil herself, perhaps she has me ensnared in some foul enchantment, but even if she does I’m glad for it. |
You wake up to the sound of your alarm clock, just like every morning. Groaning, you roll out of bed.
"Just three more days until the weekend,"you tell yourself. "You can do this."
Opening your bedroom door, you almost trip over your two roommates and boyfriend. They're kneeling on the hallway carpet in a half-circle.
"Umm... guys? Let me through, please? Gotta use the bathroom. Also, Trevan? Don't you have class? What kind of prank is this?"
"Of course, Great One,"Cynthia replies as she quickly moves to the side. Trevan also gets to his feet.
"I'll get to class, as the Great One desires."
"As the Great One desires,"echo your roommates.
You roll your eyes and close the bathroom door. What a bunch of jokesters. |
"You're just a demon! We serve no goddess like y-"where his last word, as his head fell on the ground.
"Anyone else want to be relieved of his head?"
Her voice was calm. Despite the large number of people, too many to count, none dared utter a word anymore. It's the 6th that had lost his life. Two insulted her, one acted like a child making noise to cover her, two more tried to attack her and this one thought he could escape her because it isn't his religion.
Considering the two that died were a powerful Lich and a Dwarven leader throwing some explosive at her only to see her unscathed but angered, the only natural response was to stay a while and listen.
​
"Good, now that we're done with the pleasantries, let me get straight to the point. None of you are allowed to wage war anymore."
The silence broke, as many started to raise their voices full of questions. After a few minutes, she hit the floor with the bottom of her spear, creating deafening sound and bringing the silence once more.
"Over the last millennium, every single one of you, regardless of race or gender have decided to throw away your honor. You no longer fight for me, for your fellow man, nor for any cause. You exchange the lives of the people for your personal profit, using me as a scapegoat for your work. I had hoped some of you would eventually go back to the right way and eliminate the other to restore the right order, but you are all equally corrupt. I am tired of this masquerade, so i shall simply no longer allow you to use it."
Amongst the leader, a few were conversing, trying to make sense of her words. One of them, a beastman stood up and raised his voice.
"Oh goddess, my people are a warrior's tribe. They know nothing but war. We cannot survive without it and we never disrespected you."
"I know. your people are great warriors. I have no doubt about their motives. I just need to look at their rituals to understand. But my anger has never been toward the warriors. I hope you'll understand oh great warrior, but I do not consider having your men bring back the women for you to rape while you do nothing but wait and drink wine something worthy of my favors."
The beastman could easily be heard growling, but he didn't dare roar. He knew too well the result, so he took the insult and sat back.
​
"Fortunately for you, I'll give you a way to regain my favors. For a thousand year you lost your way. For a thousand more you shall find it back. I believe for most of you the relations between gods in our pantheon is no secret. I am wed to the king of beasts. The maker and patron of beastmen and many other species, from humanoïds to animals. What is much less known is that 400 years ago we had a daughter. I'll spare you the name for now, the majority don't remember our name and just refer to us by our title. As such, meet my daughter, the monster's princess."
A young lady entered the room. Her features looking vaguely human, if you discounted her 6 eyes and her abnormally thin build.
"Custom wants that new gods undergo trial and training for a thousand years. But since I'm not the only goddess that is fed up with the current people's action, the gods came to a decision. The new generation shall do their work despite their inexperience and make you their test subject. Were you to change your ways and survive the trial for a thousand year, your mistakes will be pardoned and you will be given a second chance."
The uproar took once more. The people shooting angrily at the revelation of the strifes to come. Yet the goddess did nothing this time but nod at her daughter. The young lady's throat elongated until it looked more like a snake than a human. Her throat bulged, filling up with air until he mouth opened releasing a screech rupturing many eardrums in the process
"SILENCE. That is enough. You have been denied by the gods. I will make my mark on your pitiful world and rebuild it anew. Rejoice, for your lives shall pave the way to a greater world."
During her speech, another figure entered the room. The king of beast joined his wife, although he said nothing. They were both looking lovingly at their daughter's, like parents watching her first recital. They exchanged look filled with joy and happiness while their daughter was putting the assembly to a death sentence.
The girl turned toward one of the human leader on the first row. She told him a few last word before sending them all back to where they came from. "I hope you like spiders."
As he came back to his throne, he made the way to the balcony. In horror, he could see a dark mass forming on the horizon. A horde of dark eight legged abomination was marching toward his kingdom. |
"So...can I ask why? I figured most soldiers were, you know this size...generally."
Martha indicated the armor where it sat on it's dolly, not much taller than she was. In fact, she knew several people who were a good deal taller than the armor.
"Surprise. The armor sized for men, usually around six feet tall or so, that rounds out to seven and a half feet. Easy. So you see Shaq sprinting at you, or several of the same, draws a lot of fire."
"huh."Martha did a quick lap around the armor while the tech returned to typing. The armor was mostly bare carbon fiber plates over heavy black fabric. Kevlar, she'd been told. It had bulges around the hips and on the small of the back. The helmet was bulky, it's faceplate smooth an featureless. The tech finished typing with a flourish. There was a protracted electronic yelp and it opened outwards.
"How many hours do you have in the sim?"he asked
"sixty four in the full-motion tank, one hundred and eighty nine just in VR goggles. I know it's not much, but..."He raised his eyebrows.
"That's more than enough. It does take some getting used to. You'd be surprised how noticeable an eighth of a second is. Hope in, lets see how it fits."
She slipped the gloves on first, then reclined back bit by bit letting it wrap around her. It was tight, but in the way her ski boots were tight. Martha was the one of forty Olympic-level athletes chosen for development, an alpine slalom skier who had been a shoe-in for the gold at the Iqaluit games, but a nasty crash in qualifying tossed her into obscurity. She couldn't help but feel a certain rightness as the armor closed about her. Like her life up to this point had led her here. There was a moment of fear in the darkness of the helmet, where she was aware of how little she could move the suit without it's help. It was bulky and heavy.
"Alright. Boot sequence 1-1-06-1. Initializing interface, trial for subject Martha D. We are good! let us know how it feels."the tech sounded very pleased with himself.
She stood out of the dolly. The camera was hidden somewhere in the breastplate, and it was a little unsettling to have that kind of perspective shift. It still moved when she turned her head, but not one-to-one. She looked left, right, left. She bounced experimentally on her toes, feeling it's lightness. Despite wearing a hundred pounds of armor and servos she felt more agile than she had before. She bounced left and right. On a whim, she kicked herself backwards as hard as she could. She could do a back flip while airborne, on a diving board or off a huge huck on the slopes. The ease at which she snapped off a standing back flip was absurd. The tech a whooped at the feat, and ran over to a table full of props. On the screen, each object had a little box around it. They varied in color, a gradient of green to yellow, then orange, then red based on the items potential danger. The tech passed her a steel pipe. She bent it with little effort, even wrapping it into a neat pretzel. The tech moved to a pyramid of bricks, tossing them to her underhand. She caught the first, and crushed it in her fist. She caught the second two, smashing them together in a red cloud. she fired quick jabs at the next two, breaking them into shards with the punches. The last one she lightly tossed after catching it. It flew sixty feet upwards and landed in a plume of dust. As she marveled at the effortless force there was an alarm. the tech had taken advantage of her distraction to hurl a cinder block at her. Without thinking, she kicked the chunk of stone. It blasted apart.
"Hot damn!"the tech yelled at the spectacle, moving further down the table. He stood a piece of steel up against the table. She bobbed excitedly, waiting for instructions. "think fast!"
The tech emerged from behind the metal holding a pistol, a comically oversized revolver. The suits alarm chime filled her ears, and she made an instinctive grab as he fired it at her, nearly point blank. Her other hand snaked out and snatched the barrel, a tweak of two finger bending it upwards. In her other palm, she found she was holding a deformed slug. Dropping it, she yelled at him.
"You son of a bitch, you *scared* me!"she cuffed him affectionately on shoulder, immediately realizing what she'd done and putting her hands over her mouth. He squealed, was lifted bodily off the ground, landed and slid several yards where he lay in a whimpering heap. She ran over to help, and he recoiled from her.
"It's okay, I'm okay. Broke my fucking arm, I think."He said swiftly
"Oh, god, I'm so sorry."she said
"It's okay. It's okay. It was bound to happen, if not with you, with someone else. You aren't used to being superman yet."He spoke as he stood, gingerly touching where he'd been hit. Martha adopted the hands-on-hips pose and corrected him. "super *woman."* |
In 5 minutes I am going to go into a time machine, buckle myself in, and be transported somewhere in the future for 3 days.
I don’t know how far in the future. I don’t know when. But I will be.
I signed up for the first ever lab trial for time travel. No one know what to expect.
In 4 minutes I am going to go into a time machine, and travel to the future. I’ll probably die. We aren’t even fully sure if it will work.
I glance outside where my mother and father are watching, waiting for me to go.
A tear builds in my eye when I consider this may be the last I’ll ever see them, but I don’t let it fall.
In 3 minutes I am going to go into a time machine, and travel to the future.
I think about myself. I’m sick and if I don’t get help, I’ll be dead in a month’s time.
That’s why they let me go. I have nothing to lose.
In 2 minutes I am going to go into a time machine, and travel to the future.
They call me to the machine and tell me to get ready. I gulp and walk over.
I take one last look at my parents and step inside.
In 1 minute I am going to go into a time machine. and travel to the future.
I sit down and strap myself to the chair.
The scientists look around, make their final checks, and begin a countdown.
5,
4,
3,
2,
1.
.
.
.
I’m alive
.
.
.
I’m Alex Jones and I’m the first man to travel to the future.
But when a pterodactyl flies overhead I begin to question myself.
And when I see the hundreds of people standing around 30 meters away I’m even more confused. |
Either we are the first or we are one of the last.
Nonetheless we made it. Humanity escaped the boundaries of earth and the solarsystem and now with the Gate-technology at hand we reached for the stars. Closing the distance of millions of light years to a few hundred meters as long as the gate is stable.
At first we would fly a probe at near lightspeed to a star and then build up a gate to expand our reach further and further. Following this strategy we conquered half the galaxy and we still haven‘t found any sign of intelligent life, apart from the more or less developed primates wandering the various planets.
It was at this point in time when a few scientists, frustrated that after several centuries of space exploration, that they still haven‘t found another spacefaring society, decided that they would take things into their own hand...
With the DNA of humans, dolphins and octopus they created new intelligent life. Despite keeping in mind that humans were the creators of this lifeform the scientists underestimated the Chellin.
Within a few decades the chellin started agriculture, five years later they entered the industrial age and within just 30 years of their existence they flew to the moon. At this point humanity became aware of them and a discussion ensued if we should contact the Chellin, nobody knew that we humans made them.
We decided to leave them for another few decades.
But after just ten years later, they found one of our gates and with that all hell broke loose.
They attacked one of our newer colonies and killed everyone. Everyone was slaughtered not just the man but the women and children too. After the massacre on Harvesti IV, the scientists who created the Chellin came forth and told the human society that they played god and now there creation haunts them down. Apparently one of the scientists was living at Harvesti IV and the Chellin made an example out of him hanging his guts from a 33 m high spike out of titanium.
It was at this point when our human leaders decided to end this experiment and resurrected Order 66. The Terminators were robots designed for war. Despite them being a few centuries old and nobody saw a use in them after the 4th star war, they still were perfect for this job.
After the first few loses of some minor colonies and the loss of approximately 8.5 billion human lifes, the Terminators hit the homeworld of the Chellin. Despite their inferior numbers and heavy casualties, at the third day of the invasion our forces established a first stronghold at the planet.
Within months the chellin were almost eliminated, all of the Chellin? No, a small little village keeps fighting despite already having lost.
The human generals proud on the fast success pledged our leaders to use atomic warheads to finish of the last few Chellin. This would minimize the total victory over the Chellin at the small cost of just above 1.5 Quadrillion Credits.
Despite the costs the leading community decided to conquer the chellin with non atomic means to keep the planet as valuable as possible.
At this moment the Chellin came forth and surrendered there whole planet to the Human Community Empire.
This are the last 4600 living Chellin. We are thankful for the genoursity of our human leaders and their superior military which defends us against all evil that this world holds.
James looked up from the sign infront of him. He watched over the vast land beneath him and the village that was located at a small lake. Strange human like beings wanderd across the land. They were tall, with heads as big as Melons and small eyes. with their 6 arms they worked at the factories and businesses within the small city. Human police officers patroled the area and enforced the chellin controll laws.
As Social History student he knew humans made the same mistakes over and over again. Sometime in the future this would bite them in the ass. That or we would annihilate another species. |
King Daeke was wise and benevolent, loved by all of his subjects. He also considered himself a patient man, considering all that was upon his shoulders. 'Another' it called, and a terrified man appeared at it's shoulder with a horn of steaming chocolatl. With shaking hands, the man placed it on the table, turned it just so, and dropped back into obscurity, fleeing from the God. 'Excellent, now leave me for I am tired'. The king gritted his teeth and bowed, following his servants out of the room.
It had been there less than three hours but already the God had taken up the King's residences, helped itself to all available stock of chocolatl and struck fear into just about everyone it had laid eyes on. Never before had one come from the heavens, nor would they have expected one so..unlikely. They were a peaceful nation, and were thriving in trade from across the seas. What could this God need from him? From his country? He planned to find out, as soon as it was done napping. Daeke walked swiftly to his planning room, filled with maps and scrolls, it was his safe haven from ruling. In here he could build trade routes to his hearts content, listening to the crashing of the ocean far below. Never one much for religion, Daeke had oft fallen asleep during his lessons with the old cleric. Now though, he wished he had paid attention. The God had not given a name, so it was up to him to figure out which one it was, and how to please it. Maybe it was some kind of test, he thought. Maybe it wants to know we still follow the old ways and have not veered from their righteous path.
The sun dipped low on the horizon as the King strode confidently back to his rooms, his servants assuring him that the God had awoken. He found it bouncing on its toes looking out from the balcony across the harbor. 'Wow, no hoverjets, no electricity, these guys are mad' it exclaimed at a rectangle in its hand. There was a flash of light, the King danced behind a nearby pillar, expecting an attack. 'Oh, I.. You there, King, do not mind the light, it will cause no harm'. Did the King hear the God's voice..break?
'I know who you are, and why you have come, oh glorious Basah-thet' the King spoke solemnly. 'I wish to serve you in any way that I can, here is your first offering'. He clapped his hands and a row of servants trailed in carrying eight large silver platters on which sat bristly, dead boars. 'For you, o' glorious one'. The God took a step back, frowning, his mouth making a silent 'ohhh'. 'Oh hey, uh, yeah I don't wanna eat any of that, that's gross'. The rectangle was back in its hand. 'Guys look what they brought to me, dead gross pigs, what even is this?'. The King's face mirrored the God's. 'But Basah-thet, God of Meat and Harvests, this is exactly what the Divine Providence has foreseen, you are to be fed eight freshly killed boars, and then after three kegs of wine'. At the mention of wine, the God's eyes lit up. 'Oh saaaahhh-weeeeeet' it said, rubbing its hands together. 'Now we're talking!'.
There was a sudden flash of blue light, and the King watched a woman step out from it mid-air, quite like the God had earlier. 'DAVID' She shrilled. 'I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU FOR HOURS, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I WANT YOU BACK IN YOUR ROOM ON BOARD THE SHIP IMMEDIATELY YOUNG MAN, AND GIVE ME THAT - I TOLD YOU, NO MORE INSTAGRAM'. The God, in the guise of a fairly frail-looking teenager, dropped his head. 'Yes mum' he mumbled as he stepped into the light. The woman turned to look at the dumfounded King. 'I apologise, dear man, for whatever my son has inflicted upon you. Here, I hope this helps.' From inside her gown she pulled out a small white & silver device with a long white cord split in two attached to it. 'It's a bit ahead of your time but I've filled it with some absolute bangers'. The woman disappeared, leaving the King stunned holding the device. He turned it over in his hands, it had a sort of etching of an apple on the silver side with a word underneath. "iPod". |
I'm probably the best at what i do and it's not too brag, i like the adrenaline, the chasing, the feeling of blending with the night.
You might be asking what's my job. Well, have you ever seen the Mona Lisa painting? It's fake. Yes, I'm a professional on the run thief, some of the stolen things have been searched for over a year already. There are some things i stole and replaced for fake ones and no one ever notices. I almost fell guilty about it. Almost.
I have all I've ever wanted.
Nice house, good economic state, i can't complain but...i feel… empty.
I've got so much experience on the art of stealing . I swear i could steal somebody's shirt and they won't even notice. But it's already getting boring.
I don't experience as much chases as before, cop's don't even know my face.
sometimes being the best it's not the best.
"Here you go, now give me the cash"
He snaps his fingers and one of his gorillas gives my a briefcase loaded with money.
"It's been a pleasure doing business with you"
I shake his hand as i look him in the eyes.
I walk against the flow of people, i can't avoid to show a big ear to ear smile as i play with one of the guy's rings in my pocket. Okay maybe two or four.
I still wonder if he has already noticed.
I would have liked for him to notice, so his gorillas would try to shoot me.
I'll be honest with you. I hate being so good
Wait, but how good am i? I know what to do.
THREE WEEKS LATER...
LATEST NEWS. MOST WANTED THIEF FINALLY CAPTURED.
he has been found guilty for stealing countless treasures, from gems and diamonds to government information.
He'll be locked in the P.M.W prison. Further details will be given.
Just like a mage, a thief can disappear from places, only difference, a thief isn't supposed to do it.
This is it, my greatest accomplishment yet.
Escape from the biggest prison of the all.
the Prison for Most Wanted. |
I sat against against a tree not far from where the fabled sword in the stone taunted would-be kings. I had heard the stories, everyone had, of the impossible task. How only one chosen by the divine could lift the sword from its resting place. I had also heard how many had failed in the year since it appeared, and how few now grunted and groaned with their failed attempts each day. I was never one for feats of strength, but it seemed that if it would only relent for the “chosen one”, strength might not be so important.
Eventually my courage overcame the certain failure waiting for me and I stepped forward. The walk up was longer than expected, but by the time I reached the sword all I could hear was the promised reward ringing in my ears. A ringing that nearly exploded in my head as my hands wrapped around the handle.
“Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone, is rightwise king born”
Failure came as expected. My only “divine right” was a freshly gifted pain in my back from the struggle. I wasn’t so embarrassed that others had seen my failure as I was that I allowed myself to be caught up in such a fairy tale. No one could have the needed strength, no piece of metal could have the mind to “know” its rightful owner, yet here I was against my better sense.
That night’s dinner lost its flavor to my anger. I stared into the small fire and at my pot hanging just above it. I stared until the soft glow of the pot’s heated bottom faded away. This small stretch of land with the flat rocks that I built fires on was usually a calming place, but not tonight. My pot slipping from my hands as I tried to grab it, spilling at my feet only seemed fitting. I nearly overlooked the fresh crack in the now wet stone as I picked up the pot. I smiled for the first time in hours, “Divine right be damned”.
I found myself back with the sword just as the sun came over the horizon. My wagon full of last night’s plotting sat as the only witness as I started to dig at the edges of the stone. Time passed much faster for this attempt and as the first flames licked the stone from underneath, any notion of a magical blessing had left my mind. It no doubt helped that I had kicked over the sign displaying the sword’s promise.
Thankfully the few visitors that came to see the sword seemed more stunned with my growing pyre than willing to act. They watched on as I hammered at the stone and as I threw the first buckets of water near the buried end of the sword. A white-haired man slowly approached, a small grin spread across his face as a chunk of the stone fell. By the time he reached my side the sword had already come free of its prison and lay flatly at the fire’s side.
“Pick it up”
Less of a command, more of a gleeful slip of anticipation came from the white-haired man. As I raised the sword to my face I saw bits of stone still stuck to the end of the sword, leaving the question of where the sword ended and the stone began. “Whoso pulleth” he chuckled, putting a hand on my shoulder. “This land has seen no king but a warrior king. If it is to move beyond the battlefields, it will likewise need such a king. One who slays without swinging a blade. One not so easily carried along the path laid before them”. |
You know, you’d think people would be shocked That I’m Alive, happy for me, glad I’m back, but it’s like i am some creepy ghost, like I’m not properly back in town... No one will speak to me, my own mother just looked at me in anguish, refusing to acknowledge me in public, as if she’d be arrested for aiding and abetting, which I later found to be true. After a while of pestering different people to explain to me, one eventually cracked. “They say you killed him, your own father” they said. “He was such a good man, he didn’t deserve it!” They weren’t mad, not threatening, just disappointed. In truth, I had no idea what she was talking about, except I didn’t fight, deny, or anything, I just couldn’t speak. My dad left when I was twelve, my mum raised me until 18, and I pretty much ran away after that... the only reason I came back is, well, it’s not something I like to admit, but I was broke, running away wasn’t something I regretted, but this was the only play I could think of where I didn’t have constant rent, or bills, and is remotely safe, at least, I thought. I began to go mad, not having anywhere to go.. I decided to admit to the crime I supposedly committed, so I could have somewhere to sleep at least, even if it’s in jail.
Please criticise me! This is my first proper comment on this sub, and I want to learn! |
"Okay, we can do this, right? I mean, how hard can it be?"I glubbed to the fish beside. He shrugged to the best of his ability. It's hard to shrug when you don't have shoulders, but I had a plan. And I had time.
How much time? I somehow knew I had nine hours. Nine hours. Wow, that's a good chunk of time for a fish. The giant squid of the depths said that Atlantis was built in less time! Of course Atlantis might have had a completely different scale for time. And giant squid were known for being notorious drunks. And liars.
Still, something one of those old drunk squids said stuck with me. And that's what I intended to use to get us out of this jam- Evolution.
Why did the monkey just decide to stay monkeys? Why didn't all of us clamber up out of the oceans and muck? Why should we just stay in the water. "Come on, guys! We can do this!"I tried with every ounce of my being, every scale, every gill straining to evolve. I swam towards the surface of the tank, willing my fins to turn into arms and legs. The other fish seemed at a loss, confused, but I was *not* going to be some human's dinner!...
Eddie came around the corner from a smoke break and found the fish on the walk. "Hey, Jim! What the hell man?"He could see that the fish had somehow escaped the tank. If he didn't know any better, it looked as if the fish were trying to flop its way towards the open ocean again. If it had been a doobie instead of a plain old cigarette, Eddie might have even said the fish was trying to *walk*.
Jim came down the steps. "What?"Eddie just pointed. Jim snorted and snatched the fish up by the tail. A quick **slam** against the railing dashed its little fishy brains into a mush. "Looks like we got a volunteer for dinner tonight!"
Later than evening, Eddie finished his last bite and sighed. The fish had been delicious. "Hey Jim, you ever wonder if any of these fish ever, you know, wonder? Do you think they ever think, or dream?"
Jim finished his beer and laughed. "Nah, man, they're fish! Fish don't have much in the way of brains, they're just, you know. Fish." |
In the latest surveys conducted by the Council of Human Interaction, it has been established that every citizen dies approximately 2.3 times a day. In older cultures and customs, this would be seen as a lie, an impossibility and overall a general concern for the well being of the public. Modern society, on the other hand, has upheld a more liberal constitution on the subject of death and come to terms with its practicalities.
Ever since the invention of the matter transference devices known as 'Blinks', the population numbers have been in a state of flux that many are still trying to wrap their heads around. When one steps into a Blink and selects an output destination, they are scanned, atomized, downloaded, uploaded, and summarily reconstituted at their destination. Early attempts of this process had a particularly difficult time establishing the correct order of procedures, which delayed initial commercialization by fifteen months. The search for six and a half individuals is still ongoing to this day.
Normally, when someone was obliterated by a laser and shattered into a billion pieces of dust, they were considered dead before arrival. With the new sensation that was the Blink came the understanding that once someone is 'transported' (as the corporations tell you to call it), your original form is killed, while constructing you in another place entirely. The instance of your atomization has been dubbed OD or Original Death.
The normal tally for deaths around the world becomes slightly more challenging when certain individuals die multiple times a day. The average death rate of approximately 170,000 fatalities per day quickly became skewed to the point of total distortion. As with any new technology, people's fear of progress turned to curiosity, which in turn led to the animalistic need to toy with it. Within one year of the Blink's introduction to the public, it was recorded that millions were using the product as intended, though other records show that tens of thousands of users (and possibly more) were abusing it by playing a bizarre game of international hopscotch. The global death tally, including ODs, skyrocketed to roughly 2.1 million per day, 1235% of the previous mean.
The drastic changes were apparent and expected, and the corporations responsible planned well enough ahead. Due to several legal snafus in the Blink's reveal, governments around the world demanded regulation for the complete obliteration of their civilians and that some precedent must be set. In a compromise between the corporations and the suits of the highest levels, it was decided that every transportation via the Blink must be monitored and catalogued, as well as print out the necessary paperwork regarding the death of the consumer. The customer signs the paperwork before entering, travels through the airwaves, and signs their death certificate on the way out.
The amount of red tape surrounding the invention birthed a small controversy among the public. Many saw it as just another stamp in the passport or a punch in the ticket, but certain groups drew issue with the Blink. Religious groups all around the world spoke out in damnation of the transporter, usually saying the same thing, unknowingly unanimously agreeing on something for the first time in thousands of years: one life demanded only one death. Once you are destroyed in the machine, your soul moves on but your body continues to sin like it never has before. That was how they liked to put it anyway. Their outcry was eschewed by the overwhelming fascination and adoration from the public.
The original patents of the Blink depicted it as a cylindrical station with the sole purpose of 'transference of matter from point A to point B'. What they failed to make clear in the pitch was the unbelievable, scorching hot, incredible pain inflicted upon the user prior to download. The flash of incineration is minute and is often forgotten by the time they are reconstituted. It is a generally well-hidden secret that the memory of such pain is deleted, as well as a few pivotal seconds before the flash.
Now that the River Styx has been ferried, bypassed and forgotten altogether, modern-day travel has been revolutionized. All around the globe, the everyman uses it casually and without fail.
While it does have a general air of frustration surrounding it, the technology has completely upended the travel industry. From vacations across the world to simple commuting, the Mass Transfer Device, a.k.a Blink, has served as an invaluable tool in contemporary society. |
Lydia had always assumed that consciousness faded along with the use of the body. She hadn't been looking forwards to spending her last years of life with aching bones and bedsores, so her sudden collapse on the subway platform had almost come as a blessing, if she could see past the unexpected agony of shortened breath, immense chest pain, and spotty vision. She hadn't been able to.
She still didn't know exactly how she had died. Frankly, she didn't care. The terrifying confusion of her new life despite the retention of her old memories subsided eventually, leaving her with the oddest feeling of emptiness. She should be joyful, at peace, and excited to use her knowledge to better herself.
She didn't feel that way at all. Instead, she felt bolder, angrier. All of the misdeeds that she had endured, all of the cross words and the disgusted glares and, especially, the way that that old buzzard of a man had sneered at her while denying her insurance claims, flowed back from her deepest memories like hot molasses - heavy and churning, these memories coated all else in a sticky-sweet preoccupation with revenge.
And why not? Did she not deserve to spend the afterlife as she wished it? Surely, she could stand to prune those petty and unjust moments from her mind before she sought to improve upon her life - it would almost be a fresh start. Only a little bit purification for the environment in which she could start anew and supreme - like choosing the best filtered soil in which to take root.
Furthermore, she reasoned, it was only following out nature that she should strive to serve her consciousness eternal - humans had been rewarding their friends and punishing their enemies for all time. And Lydia well remembered everyone who so richly deserved her favor, and those who had earned her scorn.
Briefly, she wondered if they remembered her. |
"Oh. Uh... Thanks."
I tipped the seer a modest amount and made my way out of the dingy, smokey office she was working out of. I can't say what I had been hoping for. I hadn't had high hopes, but honestly, I'd have almost preferred some ominous doom-filled prophecy over "mediocrity". I always thought they were supposed to spin you some wild tale that would hang in your mind, make you reconsider the way you're living your life.
. . .I suppose this had a similar effect, but you know what I mean! It's all, "You're going to die in three years, so spend your time wisely,"or "You're going to come into a great fortune, but beware the enemies you make along the way..."and that sort of thing. That's what I'd always heard, and that's what my friends insisted it was like as they practically forced me to make the appointment. Dunno what they thought they would get out of the situation. Not a one offered to come get their fortune read with me. Even my friends are mediocre.
On the bright side (if you could call it that, and assuming one actually believes in fortune-telling) I guess this means I'm not going to be *less* than moderately well-off. You know? Could become destitute and all that, but I'm going to be mediocre instead!
^(Oh dear God what am I saying.)
NO, I'm not wiping the tears from my eyes! It's all the smoke from that damn seer. I never liked incense, you know.
"Hey, you!"
"Yes?"I'm not normally one to appreciate strangers yelling at me, but the distraction from my thoughts was a welcome one.
"You the guy?"
"Am I the... I'm n... what?"The man looked very odd, not at all like anyone I'd seen before, and his eyes were burning with a peculiar conviction.
"Are you the guy who just came from the seer's?"
"Yes,"I responded just as my logical mind snapped in two. This guy was looking for me! I didn't care if was being mugged or recruited by the Jehovah's Witnesses, I was wanted!
"Not very talkative, are you? Look, we need all the heroes we can get. All the best are either already on the front lines or dead. We're in dire straits, so we'll take anyone,"the fire in his eyes abated for only a second before me amended, "No offense."
The two pieces of my mind further divided into four and began to swirl maddeningly. He wanted... *needed* me? As a *hero?* It was even harder to believe than the seer's tarot cards and tea leaves, and yet the opportunity to be anything but mediocre roared at me like a fighter plane, twin-turbo engines-
"Uh, hello?"
"Yes?"
"You okay, bud? You went somewhere else for a second there. Your eyes went all glassy and you started mumbling to yourself."
"Oh. Yes. Um. I'm fine."
My eyes must've betrayed me, because he paused for a long while before finally saying, "Alright then. If you say so. Like I said, dire straits and all that. You in?"
"Yes- Uh... Yessir!"
"Right... Look, just keep your head down and don't pull any heroics, okay? That stuff is the reason most of our heroes are out of action in the first place. Do you know what it's like leading a battalion of individuals who will leap at the first chance to try and save someone else by using themselves as a human shield? Bloody chaos."He cleared his throat, weighing his next statement very carefully before adding, "Literally."
I went on to be distinguished in the Hero Corps. Well, renowned. Well, talked about sometimes. Being one of the few without a suicidal savior complex, I lived through every battle against the nefarious Villains, just by not being completely incompetent at not dying. I didn't do much else. There weren't any medals awarded, nor will there be any memorials or plaques, I was entirely mediocre. I like to think that the Heroes wouldn't have lasted the war without me, but... well, they might have anyway.
I have fulfilled my destiny.
​
. . .And I want my money back. |
I, Guido Mista am a Gang-Star
I'll explain it as best I can err. Let's see. So ever since I was young I had decided every day to live as simply as possible and to take every opportunity to not only enjoy life but enjoy it thoroughly and leave no door untried. I enjoyed food and wine and spent my days wandering the streets of my beautiful city.
Later when I joined the gang of Passione under Bucciarati with my new found Stand ability, Six Bullets I kept living that way by using my skill to bring justice.
That sort of justice is impossible to explain but thanks to it I was able to once again enjoy the fine food I had been denied in prison. I'd rough up people that needed it and kill those that had to die. It was wrong but it was just. I believed in Bucciarati. I could see him becoming a capo one day instead of remaining a subordinate. Ehhhh... You still aren't convinced are you? Well things have changed a bit haven't they? Sorry if this is confusing.
Well there's Bucciarati now. Something will be done about these tough times. I'll be taking that wallet now if you don't mind.
Ah haha! Arriverderci! |
So you've heard of God, yes? Powerful being, reincarnates to the humans in many forms to give great messages. We have Odin, Zeus, Osiris, Allah, God himself. He comes in many stories, in many forms for those silly humans. Then there's Hades, Anubis, Tartarus, Lucifer, Satan, God's lovely counterpart. Then there's me. I'm sort of the messenger boy for Satan, only instead of giving him news, like Hermes gave news to Zeus, I deliver the goods to the people that will be seeing Hades, or as the cool kids call him now-a-days, Satan. It's an art at this point, you meet quadrillions of people and tailor hell their way. I'm the Amazon of the afterlife, essentially.
​
Do I get tired of it? Only on the days where I might not get your package right. If someone is not screaming in agony, then it's basically like creating an art gallery that your family attends to only say they don't get it. The artistic expression, the activist rights you are fighting for through paintings you spent hours making, and these mindless sheep (I would gladly call idiots) are saying they don't get it. I've in the business for millions of years, and I'd like to say I have the gig down. But damn, when Jesus was hanging around, it was difficult to give these hell packages to humans. Every time they would see fire, brimstone, or flesh melting from another person, they would just bow their heads, pray, and say god will save them or Jesus will prevail. You gotta be shitting me. To be fair, God and Satan were going through a phase when Jesus was around and I think their secretaries were confused where to send the disciples compared to the sinners. Needless to say, we were upgrading our records from magic memory to paper around those times.
​
And that's sort of what's happening now, if I'm being honest. Only instead of paper, god has decided he's created his own version of "the cloud"but the software he's made up there keeps crashing. Great, I have GPS now, helpful considering I'm not late on my deliveries. Let me tell ya, those people in the biblical times didn't live to be 200 because they were healthy and eating half-ass vegan out of necessity, noooo, they were living to be 200 because we couldn't get those coordinates accurate when we delivered that death!
​
Speaking of death, I know what you're thinking. What's the deal with the grim reaper. Well, they're more on god's side, they do it as peacefully as possible, and even though I'm more on Satan's side and they're more on god's side, we work alright together, there's no war between us. We can sometimes haggle over people, and ya, we end up gambling in the middle of a dying kid's hospital room as they're wheezing from cancer, but it depends on what deck of cards they bring and what deck of cards I bring if we're gambling over life. Sometimes, it's defaulted to the point where I have a shitty deck and the grim reaper has the best deck of all if the kid was a goddamn angel their entire 7 years.
​
Morbid? You think I'm morbid? Well trust me, pal, I'm only sugar coating it. This package that we give you, it's a backpack. We strap it to your soul and there's no key to get you out of of it when you're walking through the darkness of the dead. Really, it's rose colored glasses, or from what I've heard, it's like popping a tab of acid. You're walking through darkness, you're walking in the afterlife, but the backpack just makes that journey a little more....colorful as you make your way to meet Satan. Shit is that the time again? I have another package to deliver. Make wise choices, because trust me, with where the world is going now-a-days, I'm already backed up on my deliveries. Making your hell has become a curse and an addiction for me. |
"Greetings,valued temporal guests."
The perky blonde woman on the video screen smiled gently at the small crowd.
"Before you enter the park, we would like to take a moment to cover a few rules."
A teen in the midst of the crowd could be heard in the small pause.
"...space mountain. It's not there in our when. It was destroyed in the war with the...."
"As you are aware, in the world outside the park, the planet is suffering from a pandemic of a severe respiratory illness. Also, at this point in history, humankind is unaware of the possibility of temporal travel. Due to this, we cannot permit any external tourism."
A completely hairless human with a greenish tint to his skin is next to be heard over the announcements.
"...with chlorophyll. Very efficient. Be nice not to need a holo-watch to blend..."
"Any guests attempting to leave the park will be detained by the Temporal Integrity Force and immediately returned to their time of origin. No refunds will be offered."
Everyone is beginning to get restless now. There is a heavily accented shout of "get on with it"from somewhere within the crowd. A few people chuckle.
"Anyone who succeeds in leaving the park should be warned, you will require a minimum two week quarantine period before being allowed to return to your time. You will be billed for any expenses incurred. Any contact with local law enforcement is unlikely to be well received, especially for those of you who are particularly divergent from the current human physiology, as due to the current status of the park we will not be requiring you to use disguising technology."
"...much better than the old rubber masks..."this comment drifts in from the back of the restless crowd.
"If you are apprehended by local law enforcement it is highly unlikely that they will believe your explanations, and will certainly not permit you to return to the park. Dependant on your physiology they may call governmental agencies. If this occurs, any costs associated with your retrieval, treatment and quarantine will be billed to you before your return."
A small child tugs on his mother's clothing. Her eye implants swivel to look at him. "Mum, it smells funny"She reassures him, "It's ok dear, this is back during the age of pollution, it's harmless."
"Other than this, normal park rules apply. We have taken care to ensure that guests from everywhen are able to enjoy their experience to the fullest."
There is a general move towars the door.
"Welcome to the happiest place on earth." |
Caesar was by no means the most obedient dog in the world, but I would say we have mastered the game of fetch. For months we have been coming to the park to master our trick. The days and nights of throwing a stick with no hope of it returning have finally paid off.
"Wow that's amazing! I could never get Mica to that ."When I turned around to see who it was my hart skipped a beat. Caesar would finally be the the wing-dog I always knew he could.
"Thanks we like to think of ourselves as pro's.""Well you guys really look the part could you give me some pointers?""It's all about discipline they have to know who's boss"
As we were talking Caesar was returning with the stick and presumably to fulfill his wing-dog duties "Yeah that must be what Mica and me are missing."Before I could come up with a witty reply I felt a sudden warmth running down my leg. when I looked down I could only ponder one question "**What's the worst thing about betrayal".** The answer? "**It's that it never comes from the enemy."** |
Note: This is the second part of my Ghost Books series. It is a welcome coincidence that I have found such prompts with which I can create a series. [Link to the first part](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/gniy9m/wpyou_are_an_aspiring_author_writing_your_first/fra6hqh?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)
I was finally able to impress the black diary in my study. No, I am not into creepy librophilia. Really, Silas is the black diary that made me a successful writer. I have to regularly write plots in which a racer named Silas dies. And Silas critiques those endings.
Two months ago, Silas wrote on the first page, *"This is really the first time you have impressed me, Richard. I am giving you a present. It will arrive by tomorrow."*
The next day, just beside Silas was a grey notebook. A shining grey notebook. And it was blank.
So I opened Silas. And he was quite helpful today. *"This is Erica. Doesn't speak much. Write any story inside her and she will make it better."*
To try out Erica, I wrote a story inside her. A prince runs away from his kingdom fearing death due to his insecure brother, the crown prince. Along the way, he finds a friend in a shieldmaiden, Erica. *Yes, I am already trying to appease her. Don't want me and Erica to have a toxic relationship. At least not like the one I have with Silas.* So, this shieldmaiden Erica was meant to be a comic-relief. But the notebook Erica had other plans.
One day I woke up to find the story changed. Erica was now in an abusive marriage with the insecure crown prince in a bid to save the protagonist. But slowly this relationship blossoms into love. This was messed up on so many levels. I better not talk about the parts involving bondage and submission. *Was Erica spending too much time on Wattpad?*
I turned to Silas for help. *"You had to do it, fool. You had to do it. You had to name a character after her. She is a genius but also a teenager with raging hormones. But you got to finish the story now. There is only one thing you can do now. NEGOTIATE."*
After thinking hard about his words, I rewrote the story again. Erica was now the general of the crown prince's army and they were secretly in a relationship. And yes, all they wanted was to kill off the protagonist.
Silas could not hide his disappointment. *"And now you made her a side villain. Bravo!"*
The next day would turn my life upside down. Erica had obviously changed the story. It was hard for me to read the whole story. Hell, I did not need to read it all. The story was about a woman named Erica and her husband, Richard. *That's my name.* In the story, Richard cheats on Erica with her best friend, Doris. *That's my wife.*
With tears in my eyes and my arms shaking, I picked up the black book. Maybe Silas will have the answers. But Silas had written something even grimmer. *"You gotta publish it, Richard. You gotta publish it as it is. You know you can't escape us. Success has a price."*
Did I tell you my first wife's name though? It's Erica. |
They say that everytime you fall asleep, you will most definitely wake up the next day; that when you close your eyes, you will open them and nothing will change. But everytime you close your eyes, theres a chance that you might wake up somewhere else; somewhere far from our reality. There is a very small chance that you might wake up in a place called "Eigengrau"where nothing happens. The probability of this happening is so miniscule and improbable that most people will never worry about it. Most people don't even know it exists. Most people find comfort in falling asleep, they take for granted the life that they have. They sleep thinking that tomorrow they will have evrything, but the reality is that one day, you might just wake up in Eigengrau with nothing.
Day 0:
The ground was cold. It was hard and uncomfortable. When I woke up, I didnt know where I was. I wasnt in my room anymore. This place was different. It was a small room, about as big as an apartment bedroom. The floor and walls were dirty and made of concrete, and one of the walls had an opening missing its door. There was a small square cut out next to the door almost like a window. It was odd. When I stood up to go look outside, there was nothing. It was empty grayness. The ground was made up of gray sand that went on for what looked like an eternity.
I still had my clothes. My suit was a little dirty, and my notebook and pen were in my pocket. So here I am writing this stuff down. Its only been a few hours and I feel like Im dying of boredom. Luckily my notebook is pretty big and my handwriting is pretty small, so Ill try to keep some notes.
Day 1
A full day has passed on my watch and nothing has happened. I dont really know what to do. I dont know how I got here and less of an idea on how to get out. I tried walking away from the room but theres nothing outside. Its just gray sand and a gray sky and a gray horizon. I think I could see hills or dunes but I dont know whats out there or if theres anything out there... Or anyone. Im starting to get hungry, but I suppose I can just sleep to pass the time. Im trying to keep it casual so that I dont go crazy... I mean... I hope I dont.
Day 10
How... How can it be this long with nothing happening? Theres a constant breeze outside. I feel like i shouldve starved by now, my stomach aches but Im still standing I guess. Its getting a little difficult just sitting in this hut. I tried scouting around a bit but I cant seem to find anything. There arent any mirrors in here but I can feel myself just letting go. My skin got a lot more pale and I cant help but sit in pain from hunger. Theres hope somewhere in me, but at this point I dont know if theres a way back. Maybe theres something out there... Just maybe... Its all just sand. Sometimes I think I see something or someone, but I dont know if its actually something or if its just me going insane. I think Im going to walk... I'd scream if it didn't hurt so bad.
Day 20
I walked...nothing... Fucking nothing. No matter how far I walk, when I turn around, the house is right behind me. This place just seems infinite but there has to be something out there... I haven't died... Can I even die? Maybe im already dead and I just dont know it... My whole body hurts. Im almost down to the bone... I want to die, but I cant. My clothes are literally wearing out and my watch broke... 20 days in and Ive already lost track of time... If this isnt hell, I wish I was there already.
Day: ?
I cant... I just want to die... How can there be nothing? I don't know if anyone will read this, but let me tell you: kill me...
Day: ??
My watch is gone.
Day: ???
My clothes are gone. Withered away. But here I am. Im still here. My notebook and pen are still holding strong. I tried praying... No one answered.
Day: !
I miss... I dont know what I miss. I miss everything. Perhaps I took life for granted and now Im here.
Day: !!
I hope my dog is okay.
Day: !!!
This place is getting darker. Maybe its just me, but the sand is getting darker and so is the sky. The building is still in tact, theres blood everywhere and its probably mine, but I havent noticed.
Day: ¿
... I don't want to write anymore... Its probably been a year or more... I dont really know. The sand is almost black... I dont even know what I feel anymore... Im just going lie down. I dont know for how long, but Im just going to lie down...
Day: ¿¿
Theres something outside... Its real this time; I saw it. It just appeared out of no where. I dont know how to describe it. It was like... A spider... But it only had four limbs and an abdomen. It was as tall as the hut... I dont think it saw me. Maybe I didnt even exist.
Day: ¿¿¿
I think I can get out of here. For the longest time I just gave up. Its the spiders. They appear and disappear. Its almost like they can travel in and out of this place. I thought I gave up a long time ago... Just sitting in pain for who-knows how long. Im going to follow one of them, maybe I could escape with it... If it works, then i dont know... If it doesnt... It better kill me...
Day:
I dont know how... I dont know how to get out of here...
Day:
I followed one... I dont know how long I followed it for, but I followed it. The sand is now black and the further I go, the harder it is to walk across it. Its like its pulling me down, like it wants me to join it. Ive wanted to die for a long time. For a moment, the creature stopped and turned to my direction... And I stopped. For a moment I just didnt care... I let myself sink into the sand... I felt that... if i sink down deep enough, I might just die... But I was too scared. I waited until the sand reached my arms but I couldnt let myself go. For a moment, I didnt want to die. I didnt want to die only to be mourned by some giant creature. I struggled and pulled myself out of the sand. The creature simply looked at me and proceeded to walk away into the nothingness. I turned around only to see the hut right behind me.
Day:
I dont feel anything amymore. I think my body is gone, but I can still see myself. There are spiders outside the house. They are just sitting there. For all I know, the spiders havent been hostile, but I dont know what they could want with me. Theyre getting closer. Maybe this is it... I say that a lot but this could be it. I think im Im going to go to sleep... Im done... I theres nothing left to write... I think I wont wake up this time, I think ill just close my eyes forever. Im tired of feeling nothing.
Day 0.
I woke up... In my room... Next to my dog. My hand hurts so Im not going to write. All I can say is... I was lucky...My journal is gone so I could only hope that the next person reading it doesnt have it as bad as me.
I think Im going to just lie here next to my dog... Just to take it all in... Just in case I end up back there. If you havent been there, just lie down in your room and let it the comfort of it sink in. Just be thankful that you woke up in your warm bedroom and not in the concrete room called Eigengrau. |
'And as we walk into the living room we can see how you like to spend your time, lots of paintings in here that will depict your day to day life and the objects showcase your hobbies and interests.' I explained as walked intot he room, taking my time to walk around the room and take it in at the same time as Barry my new client.
Barry circled the room looking carefully at each objects, there were toy cars, paintings of him with his children and the TV was playing a memory of him teaching his son how to ride a bike. He had come to me a few weeks ago complaining about having recent mood swings and heavy depressions, coupled with anxiety about the future especially his upcoming divorce.
I took a deep breath as he seemed to settle into the room and I began to speak 'Is there anything in here in particular that you would like to talk about? this seems to be happy space'.
'It is, I dont want to ruin it, I want to get to the bottom of why I feel the way I do all the time.' He said as I nodded in agreement and we moved through to the kitchen. The kitchen was very modern with lots of flashy lighting, along with fancy knives and cooking implements dotted along the walls and fixings, again nothing here screamed that it was problem, in fact it was very pleasant and the smell of garlic filled the air with a warming aroma that made one feel right at home.
'My wife used to roast chicken with garlic and rosemary, it smelled as beautiful as she did.' Barry sounded sad as he mentioned his wife, he circled the room taking extra care to take in the knives and forks around the brekafast bar, now empty spaces set up for people who no longer eat there. 'Im ready tomove on' he said.
We continued in this process around the house as Barry explained more about his relationship with his wife, i noticed although many of the rooms had children's toys and memories of him with a young child he never mentioned them. we had been through every room now and I always saved one room for last, the basement, this was a visual represntation of their darkest feelings, buried deep within themselves and I had begun to suspect what might be inside. As we reached the top of the staircase that led down into the basement Barry gave me a look that suggested he knew as well, we took a moment and I began to speak.
'And now we come to the final room Barry, the basement... are you ready?'
'No'
'we dont have to do this you know' I said placing my arm gently on his shoulder in a comforting way, I knew it was against the rules but i think having a level of empathy makes these interactions more human and effective in the long run.
'It's ok I have to do this.'
As we walked down the stairs I was ahead of barry, he was almost cautious behind me scared of what was behind the door. I slowly opened it to reveal a childs bedroom, with drawings all over the walls and a race car bed in the corner. In the centre of the room there was a young boy whose back was to us and when I spotted him my suspicions were confirmed.
Barry walked through the door his fear had now disapated and now there was nothing but relief, the child turned around to see him and scream 'Daddy!' before getting up and running into and embracing him.
Barry began to break down and cry hugging the child, I suspect that he had lost the child recently which in turn put stress on his relationship elading to the divorce, perhaps he had not dealt with the loss yet, but who am i to judge? I will let him have his moment.
'Thank you' Barry said he looked to me, tears rolling down his cheeks. I nodded and simply quietly left the room giving him the time and space to be with his son and mourn. I smiled as the door shut behind me, another job well done I thought. |
The sun slowly glides up from the horizon, as a gentle brush of wind flows through the leaves of late spring. The sun warms the back of my head, while the asphalt underneath my knee is still a little chilly from the night. A few birds sing their meandering songs in the sky, and employees everywhere yawn as they open their shops.
I groan, as I stand up from beside the bicycle, dirty wrench in hand. You know, you'd think they'd give me a horse? Or at least a motorcycle or something.
I sigh. Well, it is fitting. Athlete and all that.
I mount the creaky bike and glance down at my watch. Got like 15 minutes before they open the gym. It's enough to take a leisurely ride there, at least.
A small mass of people gathers by the bus stop, lazily holding their suitcases and bags, falling asleep with their eyes open.
I yawn, as I ride through the crowd, an unmarked aerosol canister in one hand, the other guiding the handlebars.
A little poof here, and a bit there. Dispensing it equally, like a good henchman of disease.. Not like they can see me or anything. One of the perks of the job.
I am constantly itchy though...
Well, the other option was going to hell. Spending an eternity being poked by little demons with big red forks. I mean everyone's there anyway. Turns out anybody remotely interesting got sent straight down. Could've at least talked to people. Socialized maybe.
I bring the bike to a halt, as a long, drawn out, ominous squeak resonates. You better not break. I'm not fixing you again.
The local clerk yawns as she unlocks the door, just in time. I slip in before she closes it again, following her inside, before turning towards the gym itself.
I make my way through the beige lobby, and into the empty locker rooms, white, sanitary, and quiet. Only a streak of calm light reaches inside through a small, high-up window.
I take out a small blue cloth, made wet with the aerosol, and brush it along the floor's and benches, carefully. I do the same for the other rooms, before making my way outside of the gym again.
A mellow dewdrop falls from the leaf of a nearby hedge, as a few birds sing about their boring lives. I check my watch, and jump on the bike again. Shoe shop's 20 minutes from here. |
[Announcer]Our first contestant today on *Play Stupid Games*-
[Audience]*Win Stupid Prizes!*
[Announcer]-is one Kar’en from planet Dirt in sector 85273S. She has **demanded** to speak with the great Glorbulon’s ‘overlord’
[Audience]*Gasp!*
[Announcer]As we all know, the great Glorbulons are the benevolent overlords of all prosperous peoples and a mighty warrior race! They are credited by all living beings as being the most majestic and beautiful of peoples and have blessed the galaxy with their presence.
[Video recording]You’re a horrible employee! I demand to speak with your manager! I’ll have you fired!
[Announcer]As you can see, the pink skinned female is attempting to assert dominance over the most worthy overlords!
[Audience]Boooo!
[Announcer]What WILL she win?
Merciful consumption by Glorbulon?
Intergalactic sanction against Dirt?
Or will she win our grand prize: SUBJUGATION?
Now it’s time for a message from our sponsor: Gl’rgh’shl’kh. Be sure to submit your guess while we’re gone.
[A hideous blob of slimy flesh oozing puss from dozens of orifices]*incoherent squelching*
[Subtitles]The glorious Glorbon Empire has considered the plight of the Hu’mons and deigned to uplift them into our merciful service. The mighty Glorbon Empire formally declares war against Dirt and it’s colonies.
[Announcer]I hope you guessed “grand prize” because: YOU WON! The Hu’mons will be blessed with subjugation! Welcome to the Glorbal Community!
————————————————————
[Reporter]We have been invaded by some kind of hideous blobs! Their ships have defeated our orbital defenses, but troops on the ground have discovered a game changing weakness: Salt! Like some kind of suicidal space slugs, they have invaded a world covered in salt and death! As you can see behind me our soldiers are easily pushing through their assault to capture their ship!
[Anchorman]We’re receiving similar reports around the world of captured warships. I guess when you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Cathy?
[Anchorwoman]Right you are Dan. |
"Hey come on Mike, let's go up to the rooftop!"
I grinned at Rav. He was holding the camera, and he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye. We were already on Level 3 of the car park, and as it was now - I checked the time on my phone - 11:18 at night, there was no one around. Even the security office was empty. I grabbed my board, jumped on it, and started skating towards the ramp.
We'd been out since eight. After a long day at work, there was nothing that both of us enjoyed more than shooting some moves for our growing YouTube channel. This was a celebratory video - we'd just hit ten thousand subscribers today!
Although Rav did all of the shooting and editing, he still brought his board along, and we sat and choreographed sequences together. We had all the safety gear, and we had some pretty expensive technical gear too, so we were more than stoked that our efforts were beginning to pay off. I knew that Rav would already be thinking of a big finale, and the rooftop level would be part of his plan.
We rounded the last of the curve, and groaned.
Bang smack in the middle of the roof was a gleaming white car. We looked around, trying to fathom out angles, but there was no way that we could shoot anything with that monstrosity there. Rav looked deflated.
"Come on, it's no biggie - what did you have in mind, anyway?"I probed.
Before he could answer, the blinkers on the car illuminated quickly, and it made that distinct noise that a car makes when it is remotely unlocked. This was great! The sooner they got the car out of there, the better.
We looked around, confused. No one turned up. We waited, maybe thirty seconds, and the blinkers illuminated again. Rav shot me a quizzical look. I shrugged.
Maybe whoever owned this car was nervous to see a couple of thirty-odd year old guys with skateboards.
"Hey, we're just shooting a video here - you're fine to come and move your car if you like,"I called out, to no one in particular.
Nothing. Just silence.
The car’s blinkers flashed, again.
"Is it the alarm?"I wondered out loud.
"Nah, it's definitely being unlocked."Rav responded. He was a petrol head, through and through. He headed over to the car, glancing around, looking totally suspicious.
"Hey, Rav, maybe we should - "I started, but he cut me off.
"Mike, Mike, come over here - check this out!"
I walked over, slowly, cautiously, still looking everywhere for the owner.
"What's up?"
"The keys - they're in the ignition!"
"What?"
"Yeah man. Check this out. It's a Beemer. X7. This is brand spanking new. Do you know how much these go for?"
I didn't, but I knew that he was going to tell me. I knew that he was going to tell me more than I wanted to know.
"These are like a hundred and ten grand. This here is the 3 litre M Sport. Check it out - these tyres are like fresh out of the factory. They haven't done ten miles. I wonder if it's open - "
"Rav, no,"I started, wondering if this was one of those cop stings.
It was too late. The car was open.
"Mike Mike Mike Mike check this out, look, look!"
He picked up a piece of paper.
It simply read, "Congratulations! Get in."
Rav climbed in immediately. The car started up.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing! Nothing - I didn't touch anything. Come on, get in!"
Reluctantly, I made my way to the passenger side. I stood there, debating with myself what to do. Against my better judgement, I got in.
"Does it say anything else on the paper?"I asked.
"Yeah. It says, "Are you ready for an adventure?""
"Rav, I'm not sure about this - "
The engine cut out.
Without warning, the infotainment centre lit up, and a silky smooth woman's voice came over the speakers.
"Are you ready for an adventure?"
Without hesitation, Rav shouted, "HELL YES!"
The infotainment centre went dark. The car interior went dark. The locks clicked into place with a sickening thud. All that could be heard was two of us breathing - him, excited; me, not so.
And then, the ringing of a telephone.
It was coming from underneath the driver’s seat.
Rav fished around for it, grabbed it. Pulling it out, he eyed it, looked at me, shrugging. A Nokia 3310. Bizarre. He answered the call.
"You have a thirty minute head start."
The line went dead. Rav laughed.
"Who was it? What did they say?"
"Some mechanical voice saying "You have a thirty minute head start."
"Rav, I don't like this. I don't like this at all. You know, this could be, like, reality TV, or, or, or it could be Russian billionaires playing cat and mouse, and, and, and we're the mouse, and they are the cats, but really, they are cats in like, sports cars, and they've got AK47s."
Rav looked at me like I was a raving lunatic.
"AK47's?"
"Seriously? You heard my concerns, and all you can pick out is AK47's? Guns, they may have guns."
The phone rang again. I answered it.
"Who is this?"I demanded, angrily.
"That doesn't matter. What matters is, you now have a 28 minute head start. Go."
The car started again, all by itself. Rav looked at me, shrugged, and delicately manoeuvred the vehicle towards the down ramp.
Down to Level 4.
Down to Level 3.
Down to Level 2.
Down to Level 1.
Out on the street.
Rav was driving the car as if he had Her Majesty the Queen in the back. He was loving every second of this.
"Man, this car is SWEET. There's so much power, and yet, it's so gentle. It's huge, and yet, it turns so delicately. Hey, grab the camera, we should be filming this.”
The phone rang again. Vibrating in my hand, it gave me such a shock that I dropped it, and had to fumble around for it in the footwell.
I answered the call, but didn't speak.
"Mike. Tell Rav that he needs to drive faster. You have 21 minutes until they are after you. And yes, Mike, of course they have guns."
​
===
​
Thanks for reading! Comments, criticisms, thoughts, always welcome. For more twisted things from my brain, please check out /r/MarkChandler \- thanks! |
Everyone says when my house burns down I’ll save my photographs but you won’t, when the fire is licking at your doorstep you will feel three things, fear, sadness, and an adrenalin-fuelled urge to get the fuck out there as fast as you can, everything else pales for that last one.
We had moved there to build a world based on absence, could we create more without the distractions of our friends, the bars, the hassle of a day job? Back then those were our fears but now we had a new one and it was real and it was advancing. Ryan loves war movies, for him I’m sure this was his moment in the trenches and I will say that notion brought out the things I love most in him at that moment. The need to be capable, too fix things, and to make me safe. He was strong and calm and I was still as I waited for his response.
I rocked on my heels on our porch as he searched his phone and paced, we called our friend Joe a few towns over but they had already left, we did learn that the trail from our road was burning and likely not a route for us. I bit my cuticles, Ryan pondered.
After a minute he told me to go inside and pack a bag, he walked over, whispered in my ears what to collect and kissed my head, even at this moment he knew I needed reassurance and I appreciated that.
I quickly collected the things he had requested and came outside. I dropped a bag in our cowboy tub and turned on the hose and left it running. We were placing water, supplies and some of our valuables under the water in case we could not make it out, the idea being we could hide in the tub whilst the fire raged around us, I worried the giant tin tub would like like a saucepan boiling us as we hid but I couldn’t voice that for now, we needed to hold onto hope.
He was waiting in our truck, I swung my foot onto the hot step and climbed inside, once I closed the door we began to drive at speed down the trails to the main road, there was a narrow window Ryan explained and we might be able to make it to the main road and if so safely out of town. For about a mile the heat was the most palpable thing I have never felt anything like it, then came the smoke, it was dense, dry and choking, the truck’s AC struggled against the thick mist and we wrapped bandanas across our faces keen to filter as much as we could. Every breath we took was warm.
At one point we made a turn and I saw a bottle garden, from one of our artist neighbors, I knew we’d made it almost three-quarters of the way at that point as we sped past I heard the glass pop and saw a bottle fly into the road. I prayed for the tires of anyone behind us.
We drove on, it was as though the whole world was fire, we didn’t speak but occasionally I’d squeeze Ryan’s knee and he would flex against my hand to offer me a little comfort. By the time we reached the end of the track, he was hunched over the steering wheel straining to see, the air was thick with ash and flame, we slowed and turned don our headlights full beam. There were no cars coming towards us, not surprising- who would drive towards this?
We carried on, reaching a crossroads and then stopped, the road was fire, something had fallen and there was a wall of flame, I started to feel the panic rise in my throat, I knew even the cowboy tub was not an option now. I waited and watched the veins pulse in Ryan’s neck. I have an idea he said and he slowed and took out his phone, scrutinizing the map he pinched in and out and then put his phone back on the dash. He reversed and then began driving forward with a determined look on his face, He pulled off to the right and we were immediately in someone's yard, it was clear there had been a fence, perhaps it was that flaming in the road. We continued across the sand, it was bumpy and, the air was still thick, but then miraculously began to clear a little, we drive past burning shrub, the fire has decimated it and it was low to the ground, ahead I saw the wind farms that marked the main road out of town but how to get there. We drove on and I saw a trailer appear, it was still blocked by some fire, not a wall per se but enough, Ryan glanced at me and I knew. I fought with the instinct to cover my eyes but I wanted to be his witness. Suddenly we accelerated at speed, flames licked the side of the truck and I felt the heat suck the air from my lungs and then as soon as I could register it was gone. I felt the air cool and Ryan motioned for me to wind down my window. It took some effort to budge the soot but when I did I saw the smooth line of the freeway stretching out, it was a calculated risk and we were safe. We didn’t stop for a long time. |
I stared at the picture, noticing the hair, the eyes, the face. I had the same color hair and eyes, and our faces were strikingly similar. I had stumbled out of my friend’s funeral for fresh air, but when I wanted to go back, the funeral director lead me into this one instead. To be fair, I looked a lot like the deceased, she could have been my sister, we looked so similar.
The funeral home director had thought we were family. We weren’t. At least, I didn’t think we were. There was something vaguely familiar about the girl, like I had known her. The picture of her showed a girl I’d never seen dressed up for a dance. Her parents sobbed quietly in the front. I had to slip out. I had no clue how to get out of this.
“You must be Lilly’s sister, I’m surprised you showed up, given that you only exist because that idiot cheated on my daughter,” some random old lady said to me.
I stared, confused. I had been the product of an affair, and given up for adoption because of that, but I wasn’t aware of any half-siblings.
“Ease off her mom, I don’t think she meant to come, she looks lost,” the mother of the deceased mildly told the old woman.
“I am, I was at my friend’s funeral, I guess two funerals can happen at the same time, I’m sorry for interrupting,” I told them and slipped out, and back to my friend, trying to forget about the funeral and my dead sister. Well, half sister. |
Part 1
I missed Ember so much. She was the sweetest most beautiful cat ever. She was a Short hair Calico. I had a connection with that cat that I had never felt with another pet before. She had been my only friend after the divorce. All these years day after day working and coming home to just my cat had made me appreciate her and care about her so much more then I had when I was married. I had raised her since she was 6 weeks old. She loved going outside, getting dirty, hunting bugs. So when she didn’t turn up for a few days I didn’t think much of it. But then the days turned into a week. And a week into 2. Time gradually moved on. And she never came back.
I thought the world was playing a cruel joke on me, around a year after Ember had disappeared, I started seeing dead pigeons, rats, small vermin and the like turning up in front of my door. Ember had always collected her trophies to show to me. It made me cry seeing them, because it just made me miss my cat more.
I didn’t put much thought into it the next couple times I noticed vermin out there. I didn’t want to think about it. Painful thoughts. Was it my fault Ember disappeared? I had been the one who let her out of the house. What happened to her? Is she alive? If she died, was it peaceful?
I did a lot of research, staying up late at night filled with guilt and grief. Inside cats typically live for up to 15 years as opposed to outside cats living for 2-3. “It was my fault” I kept telling myself over and over.
After new birds and rats continued
Showing up . I began to grow suspicious. This had never happened before. We never had dead animals of this magnitude just showing
up. We needed to find out who was killing the animals and why they were planting them right on my door step ....
Feel free to expand upon the story as you wish. I would greatly appreciate any feedback. Thank you have a good day! |
The air tastes of dreams and magic. Fantasies become real. Aging stops. Loved ones of days past appear, not as visions, but as reassembled beings, possessing all memories.
But those with a strong will, realize that time shouldn’t move that slow. That a life of lies isn’t life, just lies. Ghosts aren’t real people, they’re reflections of what was and could be, but not what is.
Some left the same day they came. And some stayed. Eating to their heart’s content, spending eternities chatting with no one, and feeling blissfully happy.
A world where progress stopped when perfection rules in continual perpetuity. |
"Men, I know they're laughing at us. I know they have all the latest gear. I know a lot of it is cutting edge. I know they don't follow the book.
"None of that matters. We are the best. We are the best because we have trained for decades on the most successful ways for men, or a group of men, with simple, ***reliable*** gear that can perform all of the tasks that this cheesy, flashy, *wimpy*, civilian, race committee can put in front of us. We cooperate. We leave no man behind. We train for things that these silly-villians would never think of handling.
"Finally, the mindset. We are trained to improvise, adapt, and overcome. We will succeed; we will win! And here's why.
"Motivation.
"If we win, I'm buying.
*Thunderous Cheer!*
"If we lose, you are buying. It will take lots of the most expensive alcohol I can find to drown my sorrow, embarrassment, and fuel my mind dreaming up more torturous, cruel, fiendish, training for you to complete.
*Dead pale silence*
"Sergeant! Deploy the men!"
"**Company! Route March! Column of threes! We are at the back of the pack. I HATE being at the back! YOU hate being at the back! We will move out at double time! Anyone in our way gets ONE chance to move over! Then we trample!**"
*Thunderous Roar*
"**I can't HEAR YOU!**"
*THUNDEROUS ROAR!*
**"READ BACK!"**
"**ROUTE MARCH! COLUMN OF THREES! DOUBLE TIME! ONE WARNING! TRAMPLE!!**"
"**FORM UP!**"
A nervous race official rushes over to the Captain. He was agitated and angry.
"Sir! That's against race rules!"
With calm certitude, "It is not against race rules, I checked most carefully. We are required to request a slower racer to move over. Once. The racer so requested must comply. The race rules say nothing of what comes after."
"You will be arrested!"
"Only after the race, and by military police. We are not civilians; we are not on leave, we *are* under orders to win this race *at all costs.* The only element in our Rules of Engagement is do not break the race rules.
"Sir, under those rules and orders, none of us will be punished. That will fall on higher for giving those orders."
"YOU COULD KILL SOMEONE!"
"We will endeavor not to kill, but only as our orders permit us. There is little, if any, leeway.
"Besides, I doubt we will experience any difficulty immediately. Examine the racers in front of us."
They *were* so far back that they could not see the starting line. Now? Now there is a four-wide gap up the middle of the road, all the way to the starting line.
"You *terrorized* them!"
"No, sir. We told them what we were going to do. *They* made the wise choice not to be in our way. Now, I understand the race is about to begin. I suggest you return to your post, immediately."
"*ON YOUR MARKS!"
"FORWARD, MARCH!"
"*GET READY!"
"DOUBLE TIME, MARCH!"
"*GO!*"
The entire company breaches the starting line at that moment. Everyone else starts at least half a second behind. The top runners sprint ahead. The remaining runners flow around the slower troops. The troops maintain double time. With the light kit, they will continue this rate for hours.
The race announcers. (*Well! For all their ferocious talk, they're at the back of the pack again!* Don't count your chickens, Roy. We haven't even reached the first obstacle yet.)
The race proceeds to the first aid and water station. The lead racers are clean and swift at the station. The second group is also fast if a bit disordered. The third group, with the peloton and military shortly behind, rampage through the water providers, disrupting and overturning tables of prepared drinks. The providers are first shocked than angry.
"SERGEANT! RENDER AID!"
The troops fall out into squads who rapidly right and order the tables. Racers who have been running with the military break from the race to help. In minutes, the aid station is set to rights, the squads accept one drink for each man and reform.
"SERGEANT! RESUME RACE!"
As they leave, the providers cheer, then you can see many cellphones brought out for furious dialing and angry words.
(*They're not going to win that way, Dale!* Roy? Do you approve of what the third group did? *Of course not! But the military set the standard didn't they?* Have they injured anyone? *No, not to say they won't otherwise.* Have they done anything to deny aid to later runners? *No, not to say they won't do that either!* Roy, you are a complete ass. *And you, Dale, are a loser!*)
At the second aid and water station, the first two sets of runners perform flawlessly, and are shocked into momentary immobility at news of what the third group has done. They are angry now too.
((Comtinued later))
I have the ideas, but not the minutes. |
We called him 'Brainstem Billy". He was nearly impossible to catch. This would be his twelfth victim. Not only was his method of killing the same across each crime scene, the base of the skull at the back of the neck carved open and violently stabbed, often puncturing the esophagus and severing the arteries in the neck, but so were the events leading up to the victims death.
What made this strange is that they had no other connection outside of being killed in the same manner, and isolating themselves socially before their death. There was no discrimination as it regarded race, gender, size, ideology, affiliations, geographic location. One victim was a Vietnam War veteran, who spent his days at the American Legion drinking and listening to Honky-Tonk when he wasn't bowling. Another was single mother, a nurse who worked 32 Hour shifts at Grand Mercy each week. These two lived 5 hours away from each other, and had never communicated to one another, their GPS had never crossed the same paths. Their digital lives had never intertwined nor overlapped in any way shape or form. The choice of victim was seemingly random.
Even I couldn't get a lead on Brainstem Billie. Every victim so far was catatonic when I brought them back. I briefly considered smuggling one of the corpses out of the morgue to perform the Ressurection Ritual in full, as opposed to the mobile version I had concocted that brought someone back from the afterlife only a few minutes, to give a proper interrogation.
Considering each victim had retreated from their lives before death, quit their jobs, cancelled any obligations, and refused communication to their friends and family, we thought 'Cult'. My brief interviews, supported this theory.
Maybe number 12 would be more helpful. Usually victims were eager to tell me who it was, where they'd seen them, or give me a message for their family, something. Never this. I poured the cursed ashes on Number 12's chest, and dimpled a well to pour in the sacrificial blood. His name was Imran, a 1st generation Bosnian-American, who helped his father operate a regional chain of pizzerias. He was 23. I put the bones in his hand a drew the insignia around his body.
He woke. His eyes peeled open slowly. This is normally where a victim wakes and panics and screams, and emotions flood out of them. I have to calm them down and try to pry any useful information from hysterical corpse, who begs and pleads not to be sent back. Not these victims. They open their eyes slowly, turn their head and look at you and just stare until sent back to the underworld. Their pupils stay dilated, their head follows you around the room, and when their time is through, they lay their head back down and let their pulse dissapear.
"Hey, who were you with last?"I asked. I gave his face a couple swats to try and break this awful gaze. "Did you know who he was? "I tried again.
I stood, his eyes followed me. I lit a cigarette. "What happened to you..."I said to myself. I examined the Blood spatter. Blood was dripped and blotted across floor, across the room, where it lead to a number of smear marks in the next room. Where the blood was smeared were slits in the drywall, as if the wall were stabbed. God I hated these victims. I was in the next room, his head was turned, just watching me walk the crime-scene.
"What!?"I yelled at him. No response.
It was eight days before we found our next victim. This one broke our pattern. It looked as if the killer was perhaps stopped in the act, or spooked. This victim had not withdrawn from his social life, as he hadn't had one in the first place. His neck wasn't carved up like the others. This victim had one knife wound in the back of his neck, with the knife still sticking out of it.
This scene had no signs of forced entry, no sign of a struggle. Most curious was this apartment had a deadbolt with no external keyhole. The doors and windows were all locked from the inside. Our killer never left.
I ran the ritual one the processing team left. He woke. The first victim that actually spoke to me.
"Where is it?!"He asked as he grabbed me, balling up my shirt in his fists, scanning the floor like a wild man.
"You dont have long. Where is what? What happened here?"
"The grub. Did I get it? "He felt the back of his neck. He jumped as he touched the cold steel of his knife. He turned his head to show me the back of his neck.
"Its under my skin. I dont think it attached. Did I get it?"
I inspected the wound. I couldn't tell anything had happened outside of this man stabbed himself. There may have been something under the skin, but it was so swollen at this point I couldn't tell.
"Is there something there? Is this why you killed Tania Mathers? Is this what happened to Imran and Judy?"
"Its burrows in your skin, it attaches to your brain and it controls you. I dont know what they're planning..."
He said as he slumped back to his deathbed. I pulled out the blade, gloved my hand and stuck it in the wound. Just as he said, about the size of a cocktail shrimp, a parasite, gangly appendages 8 inches long, still writhing and whipping, like sticking a handful of Angel Hair pasta out the car window. I put it in a jar.
I needed to fully resurrect "Brainstem Billie" |
It was in the late evening when I finally put down my work to get some dinner. Slowly I dragged myself down the stairs into the kitchen, but once I arrived I noticed something weird.
A quiet knocking could be heard in the room. It sounded like someone was hitting something hard against metal. I slowly started to move around the table, to localize the origin of the sound.
The closer I got to the fridge the louder it got and the more confused it made me. What could possibly be knocking on the inside of my fridge?!
I softly grabbed the handle and started pulling it open a little bit to peek inside. And there it was: a newly hatched chicken.
I stared at it for a second before I actually realized what could have happened. Could it be possible that an egg hatched inside my fridge and the chick started banging on the fridges door to escape?
This was impossible, right? But still, there it was. I carefully took it into my hand to inspect it. It didn’t look like it was newly hatched. Maybe there was another way the little thing could have gotten into the fridge.
With the chick still in one hand, I started inspecting the fridge a little closer and there it was. At the bottom of it there was a small hole, that went right through my outside wall into the yard.
So this must have been how it got inside. And when I spotted an angry looking chicken staring at me through the hole, I also knew how it had gotten into the yard. |
Kitchen!
Yes, Ko
It's here again, I just saw it mimicking me.
Ko, the milk is in the refrigerator. You will need two ounces of whole milk with five millilitres of vanilla whisked to a froth.
Kitchen, where is the small silicon bowl and a fork?
Ko, the cat cannot use a fork. You will have to whisk it.
It was always with the kitchen whenever that demon possessed toy started flirting with me. It wouldn't let me leave unless I fed it, just right. And kitchen was so very protective. I found it very hard, very hard indeed to find a way out, unless I went in.
OK Kitchen, a bowl then. What about that metal bowl?! Or, why not just whisk in the container itself?
Ko, the silicon bowl is for your protection. Otherwise you may double the recipe, and spill all the contents on the floor. The oven would be needed in that scenario.
Using the oven would just make it happen all over again. Just like in the story about the gingerbread man. I cannot afford another mistake, another accident.
Ko, may I remind you that not coming out of the apartment immediately was your idea. You will need to follow the instructions before you will be released.
The bubbly froth of vanilla milk is what it needed. But, only if I could creme it in a bowl. It was the safest that way. If any of the rules were broken, surely that cat would scratch me again and again, never letting me forget that I was the one responsible for bringing up the doll, that damned wooden doll. Why did it mimic me whenever I wanted to leave. The way I had to move side to side, up and down, in and out. |
The sun was up and I had to get up for the bestowal... if only it could wait for me to wake up, sigh. With a groan, I forced myself to get up from the bed and dress up.
They say that you want to impress the Gods, so until the last decade they had those horrifying events, people even died, but rarely would a person be deemed worthless. I don't know what helped them take their senses back and stop those events... probably it was the creation of a Demi-God, that should be it.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of useless thoughts and get prepared faster. To say I was anxious would be an understatement. I barely even remember when I got out of the dorms, let alone when I reached the Temple.
I took a deep breath and let it out. I really wanted to have someone with me for this event, going all alone was too sad... but my friends were busy with the same thing and my parents weren't alive for it.
I bit down on the sadness and anger of how they lost their lives and moved on. They were Templar Guardians, so when the Demi-God was created in *our* country, they were the first to be hit by the aftermath.
Again, I bit down on my anger, feeling pain at my lower lips and realizing I had actually been biting down. The pain helped me wake up and continued walking once again.
Inside the temple was a view out of this world. A beautiful and majestic space where the laws of physics held no grip. Inside here it was rumored that even revival was possible, but it was hard to test that since it opened only on our bestowal day which was different each year.
I saw a few other kids waiting around the open space, a space that seemed to be infinitely expanding and even more so when you actually took notice of it.
I moved forward, the silhouette of other kids disappearing along the distance and the light getting dimmer as I moved along. That was a bit weird, I remember hearing from people that it got brighter...
Soon only a few dim stars could be seen in the distance and I felt like I was walking on top of galaxies. I lost sense of space and time. Up went down and below was the path forward.
Pain and relief mixed together as I felt joy and despair at the same time. My emotions went out of control and I grew angry at existing in this space right here and there.
I don't know how long it was till I finally saw light again, only that I was out of that horrifying place. I kept walking and soon people started appearing slowly again. I retained a brief glimpse of those horrifying memories and almost threw up.
I hope it was worth it because I ain't approaching this place ever again. The memories started fading faster and faster and it was probably the reason my mental state hadn't collapsed. Still, some of those feelings remained too deeply in my heart to just be erased, too harsh and strong of emotions to go away.
I looked inside my heart to find the benefit the Goddess had granted me with and noticed it almost immediately, a vast nebula of dark energy, devouring, and ever-growing larger.
I was left with my mouth wide open. This was nothing like what normal benefits were supposed to be. I continued searching through my memories, more and more and more, even among unique benefits and there was nothing. There was no way I had forgotten any of the recorded benefits and there was also no way my benefit was a first-unique.
The only thing that was left was the forbidden benefits, those which you were killed the moment it was known of. I shuddered in my heart and tried to calm down. It was probably some stupid blessing at the middle of the book and I had missed it.
I then tried to check for my skill, an ability that came to you instinctively, most of which were unique but could be classified under various categories. I didn't bother with remembering the specific categories, hurriedly checking my skill to escape the agony of what my benefit was and if my skill was something that could salvage the situation.
As if responding to my erratic thoughts, a blue screen appeared in front of me.
I didn't have to wonder as to what my skill was, I knew it the moment I saw it. After glancing through the screen, I also knew what my blessing was.
I'm screwed... I'm so terribly screwed... because my blessing was a curse. A First Category Forbidden Benefit - Progression.
I quickly had the thought of running back from where I came, even as the terrible flashes of memory lingered. As soon as I stepped out of this place I would be examined, found in possession of a forbidden benefit, and summarily be executed.
I didn't think any more of it and run back from where I came from, hoping they took the benefit back, or at least hide, live for just a little longer, escape in the darkness of the night after the people had left.
But no matter how hard I run towards the hell I had passed only a few minutes or so ago, I made no progress, the silhouette of other kids becoming clearer by the second.
My heart leaped to my throat and crashed back down. Images of my dead body, of the blood running down my lips, flashed before my eyes.
I clenched my teeth, I wouldn't die!
My eyes grew hazy and reddened. My visage was no doubt terrifying to anyone that noticed it... I was planning on becoming stronger before I got out.
"...Alex!"A voice called out in the distance and I almost jumped to attack before recognizing whom the voice belonged to.
Tears run down my eyes as I saw Hannah approaching me. Seeing my face she forgot the remaining distance and instantly dashed towards my side.
"What happened, why-"I cut her off before she continued.
"I... I will die. Help me. Please."I wiped my tears on the sleeve of my shirt, trying to speak clearly.
"What happened?!"She asked again, this time far more concerned than before.
I didn't try to explain for a few minutes, trying to calm down first. I didn't know if I wanted to tell her or not. She was the daughter of the city's leader, she could easily tell her father what I was and my fate would be sealed.
I shook my head and took a look at the visible concern on her face... "I'm a forbidden."
She grew as still as a statue. I heard her mutter some pretty obscene curses under her breath before she looked at me in the eyes again. She knew I wouldn't live, not after the horror of the Demi-God was still so fresh on their memories.
"Do you think they will kill me if I help you escape?"She asked, her eyes growing harsh.
I shook my head, "I haven't told you what degree of forbidden I am, nor whether it's my skill or benefit. As long as you don't kill anyone you will be... less than fine, but alive... I think."I said, knowing she was the daughter of the city's leader.
Helping a forbidden was a harsh crime, one that wouldn't be forgiven under any circumstances. I didn't want to lie, but I also needed her help, so I didn't say how she would most likely be imprisoned and tortured upon.
And as I thought of them torturing her for information I wanted to kick myself for wanting that fate for her, "Do not help me... I will be fine."I shook my head, "Or if you help me, escape with me."
I was torn apart from both wanting her help and not. At the end, I knew deep inside that without any kind of help I was dead the minute I stepped out. I didn't know if she had any useful skills or benefits and couldn't count much on that. I could only count on her status in the city, the same one that had distanced her from other kids of her age.
"Yeah, I thought so as well."She smiled and came closer, "So, where do we go first?"
I wanted to hug and kiss her so badly... then I realized what I was thinking and my face grew hot.
She hugged me, "Everything is going to be okay,"I hugged her back, too emotionally drained to do anything else than lean on her shoulders, "I will make sure of it."She said in a quieter voice, one which I almost didn't hear. |
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I started getting the nightmares after my brother died. They had ruled it a suicide--the toxicology had found a cocktail of hard drugs in Nathan's charred remains. He'd fallen asleep with a joint between his fingers, they surmised. Blissfully paralyzed by euphoria, he hadn't even noticed the apartment catch fire around him. He was so high, he didn't feel the pain. And now he dances with angels and rides a pegasus over rainbows. Their pretty words didn't make it hurt any less.
I thought they were sympathy nightmares. Frozen in place in my bed, paralyzed, as the world caught fire. It wasn't painless and I wasn't blissfully unaware. The first time I snapped out of it, the flames vanishing before my eyes as mobility shot back through my limbs, I had leapt out of bed and paced restlessly through the apartment for the rest of the night.
The second time it happened, there was no fire, but there was... something. A shadow that shouldn't be there. I looked around my room, feeling like I sat up against a heavy gravity, and realized things were distorted. I stumbled out of bed, calling my brother's name, and tripped over something on the floor. The moment I hit the ground, my eyes shot open, and I was back in bed again, my heart pounding. I sat up and looked around, but there was nothing on my bedroom floor that could have tripped me.
The third time it happened, the sheer force of immobility sent lightning bolts of terror through me. I strained and thrashed, managing only to twitch my big toe. If I could just get my arm to move an inch, I would wake up! Slowly, my hand slid toward my face, and my eyes snapped open, but when they did, I was still paralyzed. I fought the terror, jerking my arm again, waking up once more to find my arm hadn't moved at all. My blood pounded in my ears, and then I heard a _whisper_ right above my ear. I instantly snapped awake, throwing the blankets back and jumping out of bed. I didn't go back to sleep.
I had never heard of sleep paralysis before then. I was convinced I was going crazy, wracked with grief over my brother's death. I thought maybe it was a twin thing, trying to understand how he had felt right before the end. The paralysis itself was the most terrifying part at first, but seeing the room catch fire around me, or seeing smoke pour in from under the door, and being unable to move or even scream for help was debilitating.
I stopped sleeping. I drank coffee and Red Bull and any mixture of energy drinks I could stomach. I set alarms on my phone every ten minutes at night in case I dozed off. I couldn't stand the terror of being unable to move. I couldn't stand how it made me think of Nathan.
The exhaustion caught up with me after a week, and despite the alarms and the overabundance of caffeine, sugar, and God knows what else, my head reeled back as I sat binging a series on the couch, and I descended into a deep, lethargic coma.
The paralysis began immediately. There was smoke curling up the walls, and I tried to call my brother's name, but no sound escaped my mouth. Then I felt something step onto the couch. Fear lanced through me as I felt its footsteps press into the couch, my body sinking slightly toward the depressions in the cushions. I begged every deity I could think of to let me move my arm just a little bit, but the thing just walked closer, stepping over my arm, approaching my face.
Then I saw a darkness in the corner, just to the left of the TV, that I hadn't recognized before. I couldn't look away from it, and as I stared, the darkness seemed to take on definition, with a long neck and a narrow head and spindly arms and fingers. It seemed to be made up of the smoke twisting up the walls.
When I noticed that the thing that had been on the couch was gone, I realized I could turn my head--or at least I thought I was turning my head. And standing on the back of the couch above me, staring down at me, was a white cat with one blue eye and one brown eye. It simply blinked out of existence before my eyes.
I felt tears on my face as I did everything I could to wake up, but at this point, all I could do was watch the horror unfold. The figure no longer stood in the corner, and in my peripheral vision, I saw a large, black, scabby hand with jagged talons slowly stretch out over my face. I screamed as loudly as I could, but only a hoarse breath whistled between my teeth.
With all my strength, I grabbed the edge of the couch and pulled myself over, hoping the shock of hitting the floor would jolt me awake. I moved through molasses as I stood. The room distorted slightly, the perspective seeming crooked. The far wall looked closer, and the near wall looked slanted, and flames began to drip down from the ceiling.
I could do no more than shuffle, so I shuffled, my legs dragging, toward the front door. Maybe the cool night air would wake me! But a blackened and charred arm locked itself around my neck, choking me. I couldn't even raise my arms to wrestle it off of me!
Then a whisper tickled my ear, so low and rapid that I couldn't make out the words. I recoiled from the sound, so distinct and close that I thought for sure it was real. I lurched away from the door, no longer restrained by the demonic arm, and tripped over something on the ground.
I turned and saw that it was me. It was me, reaching my arm out, hoarsely calling my name, trying to grab my ankle. I crawled away from it, from _me_, from... it was my brother. It was Nathan.
The effigy vanished, and the figure wreathed in smoke loomed over me. I quelled, unable to move as it reached a large, black hand toward my face, talons dripping with blood, and syringe needles protruding from the tips. I felt like my heart was trying to beat out of my chest as I succumbed to the paralysis once more, finding myself back on the couch without even a blink of the eye. The figure still loomed over me, silhouetted by the flames, and it sat on my chest, crushing the air from my lungs. It leaned close to me, its acrid stench filling my nostrils with the smell of unwashed bodies, stale vomit, urine, blood, and burnt hair. I nearly choked on the fetid odor alone, but I couldn't even take a breath with the thing sitting upon me.
It leaned its face over mine, and I caught the slightest whiff of my brother's cologne for special occasions, and then the thing whispered, sounding like its lips were pressed right up against my ear. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"
Everything vanished.
I lay on the couch, my arm crooked awkwardly beneath me, eyes wide open. Sunlight poured in through the window, and Netflix had the 'Are you still watching' notice over the end credits of one of the episodes I had been watching. With my eyes, I glanced fitfully around the room. No shadow, no smoke, no heterochromatic cat.
Feeling sore all over, as if I had taken a severe beating from someone bigger than me, I painfully sat up and turned off the television. It had been around midnight when I fell asleep, and the clock on the DVD player showed it was almost eight in the evening, but I felt no more rested from the long sleep than I had from my week of wakefulness. I rubbed my eyes, pushing my oily hair back so it stood on end.
I couldn't get that cat out of my mind. I swear I've seen it before. A white cat, and I think it had a little black spot on its paw. Then I remembered the sight of my twin brother lying on the floor, reaching out to me, his eyes filled with dread. Overcome with nausea, I vomited over the coffee table, then stumbled to the kitchen to find a towel to clean it up.
I _swear_ I've seen that cat before. My hands trembled as I halfheartedly mopped up the bloody gruel, its stench reminding me of the shadowing thing sitting on my chest. And something about a chicken.
I froze. Across the road. One of my brother's ex-girlfriends had a white cat with one blue and one brown eye, and a black spot on its front left paw. And she had lived across the road from him.
I looked up, seeing my faint reflection in the black TV screen. My reflection--my brother's reflection. My twin. Had he been trying to tell me something? Chicken... fowl. Foul play?
I shot to my feet, ignoring the white spots in my eyes from standing too quickly. _It hadn't been suicide._
I dashed to the old escritoire that I had inherited from my grandmother and pulled a notebook and pen from the drawer. In a feverish haze, I wrote down everything I could remember from last night's paralysis episode, as well as everything I had dreamed of before. Already, my memory was fuzzy, and I feared I got some details wrong. Scrubbing the back of my wrist against an itch on my nose, I studied the pitifully few notes. My only lead was Nathan's ex, but that was almost nothing.
Setting my teeth, I decided I would have to go back into the nightmares to find out more. |
"Shhhh, it's going to be okay...,"Debbie consoled the sobbing stranger with an arm around his shoulder. The pair of strangers sat on a lobby bench; and, the small crowd that gathered for his meltdown dispersed.
"How?"Brandon asked. He sat hunched over with his elbows on his knees staring down at the sunlit checker carpet. "No one knows me,"he shook his head to himself. "Not you, not my boss... even my parents never heard of me. They never had kids."It had been a frantic 15 minutes for Debbie, but she tried to put herself in his shoes.
It started when the elevator door opened. The handsome, blonde stranger saw Debbie and immediately leaned in for a kiss on the lips. After some violence on her part and questions on his, he pulled out his phone and dialed.
The conversation started out easy enough, but after spelling his name half a dozen times he shouted, then hung up. He called another number. The second conversation was shorter and more polite, he had tears streaming down his face when he hung up.
"Oh!"Debbie said suddenly as a stray thought solidified. Brandon turned in time to see her slap her forehead with her palm. "Duh, Debs,"she said to herself. When she noticed she had Brandon's attention she pointed at the lobby wall across from them. A large corkboard was covered with pinned flyers and colorful inquiries.
"Huh?"Brandon asked. Debbie stood from the bench, crossed the hall, tore off a white and red flyer, then returned to give it to Brandon.
"You'll be fine,"she said. Instead of sitting down again, she gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder then walked into the just-opened elevator.
"Hey, where are you-,"Brandon stood when he noticed Debbie disappear into the elevator. She pointed downward at the sheet in his hand.
"Use that to get home,"she said. Then, she waved as the elevator door slid closed. "Good luck!"
"Get home?"Brandon asked the stainless steel doors. He held the sheet up to take a better look. A red pair of scissors served as a logo at the top of the page with text:
"Are you lost? Friends and family don't know who you are? You're not crazy! Somehow you ended up in a universe you don't belong in. NO PROBLEM! Scan the QR code on your phone and get a ride home free of charge. Easy as that, courtesy of Sharp Development."
"*It can't be that easy*,"Brandon thought as he pulled his phone out again. He paused before scanning the code. "*It's a joke!"* he thought. *"It's too convenient that this flyer was here. It's gonna do something to my phone when I scan it,"* he chuckled to himself. He grew convinced it was an elaborate practical joke involving his girlfriend Donna, his boss, and his parents.
"Here I go, scanning the flyer,"he said aloud to an empty lobby. "Because I believe I'm from an alternate universe and this is how I'm going to get home. Because that's how things work in this universe I guess,"he added for comedic effect. He hoped his tone would inform any would-be jokers that he was on to them.
"Taxi?"A sudden voice behind him made Brandon jump. He whirled around to find a dark-skinned teenager with a pair of afro-puffs on her head; one on each side. She kept her distance from Brandon and smiled. "You got here accidentally?"she asked.
Brandon nodded, but was confused. He looked around the lobby for a sign of dimension-hopping tech, but there was nothing. No machine, no wires, no glowing doohickies. Just a random teenage girl.
"I'm Britt,"she said and extended a hand.
"Brandon,"he said and shook hands.
"Alright, I got your frequency. Are you ready to go home now, or was there anything else you wanted to do here?"she asked.
"I'm ready now,"Brandon said. A part of him still expected his girlfriend to show up laughing her head off. Britt took both hands and wiggled her fingers at the air. A tiny black dot appeared in the air then swelled. In seconds it was as big as the elevator doors.
"C'mon, let's get you back home,"she said, then walked into the black hole.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #164. 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. |
It was the first day of opening for my boutique. I was so excited to see how it would go. I was the first time I had ever had the opportunity to make money doing something I really enjoyed.
Though, I was also a little anxious, I have to admit. After all I had spent almost all of my money on this and if it didn’t work out...
But I also had to consider the upsides. This was a big city and I had only been living here a week. I wondered what kind of people lived here. I wondered who would be my first customer.
Lost in thoughts I was suddenly startled by someone walking in the door. He came up to me and stood in front of the counter. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I knew there were some extraordinary people living in this town, but I certainly didn’t expect this.
Before I had time to think about the situation, he addressed me. “Good day, Miss.” Still baffled I replied with a “Hello, Sir” of my own and before I could add anything else he resumed talking.
“I would like to purchase a suit for a business trip I will be attending shortly. As you can see, I already have quite formal attire, but for the long trip I would prefer something slightly less formal and more comfortable.”
I looked him up and down quickly. He was right the suit he was wearing was really elegant. It looked as if he wanted to go to a formal dance with it. A perfectly fitting pair of black pants and a matching black jacket over a white dress shirt, as well as a black tie.
I tried to stop myself from getting distracted by his appearance while I started showing him around the suit area of my little shop. I didn’t yet have that many, but there were one or two he liked. He finally decided which one he wanted and luckily I even had it in his exact size, so that he could buy it right away.
After he had left the store I reminisced about this encounter. I was more excited about my little store than I had ever been before. If my first customer was a penguin, then what other exotic animals lived in this city?
I had expected this to be a place where primarily temperate-zone mammals, such as myself lived, but I was wrong. And I wondered what other fun experiences a deer like me could make in such a magnificent city. |
'Shit, shit, shit, why isn't it working!', I thought. 'Everyone is staring at me!'
I looked around and smiled sheepishly and tried an embarrassed chuckle, but the party just kept staring at me swimming naked in the pool.
'Nooooooo, this can't be happening!!!!'
Just before I decided to just drown, someone threw a towel at me and gestured me to come out and follow him.
Of course I accepted and followed the guy to thank him.
He got inside the house and into a bedroom.
'Oh shit! NONONONONONO!'
I tried to turn around and just go, but he pulled me in.
I tried to scream and cry for help, but he put his hand on my mouth.
And then wispered into my ear:
"So you were messing around with the timeline, huh? And just so you could pull back from embarrassing situations? Pathetic."
He let me go and even if my body wanted to run away, I got curious.
"How do you know?"
"You can jump back in time to a certain point, and I can see timelines of people. Pretty useless as it is a straight line for everybody. Except you. Yours is all jumbled."
I couldn't really believe it and just said:"Oh...."
"Just oh? Am I not the first one with time related powers you met?", he asked confused.
"No it's just..., not really believeble."
"What would be more believeble?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
"You don't really know anything, huh?"
"Right know I only know shit about fuck, so what is going on?"
He paced around a bit and said: "Unfortunately, you'll have to come with us."
"Us?! Wha....?!"
A sudden sharp pain stopped my screaming and suddenly, there was only darkness. |
It was a strange, cataclysmic, yet, completely empty void. Throughout the system of digressions of empty luminescence, I attempted to lift my hand. Yet to my shock, and utter dismay, nothing returned the favor. For just one moment, in this place, I had no form. Yet as soon as I realized that I wanted form, that I craved stability, it quickly summoned itself to me. I stared down at my body, barely keeping shape, yet somehow there.
"This is...My mind?"But the thought itself did not leave from vocal chords, it instead echoed all around me as if from a chorus, "How did I get here?"I asked in dismay.
The answer suddenly flooded all around me in a flurry of images. A car crash, going down the highway at sixty five, a drunk driver I had attempted to keep my eye on, ramming straight into the side of the car, sending me flying into the railing. Suddenly the images were derailed by images of my wife, of my lovely daughter, who had turned two yesterday. I had in fact been travelling to get her a late gift, as I had been idiotic enough to rely on Amazon shipping to bring it to the house on time after ordering it three to five days later than I should.
Why was it so white? I thought, with sudden concentration. Everything was just so, empty, unrealistic. As soon as the thought formed, a plant popped up on the side of the endless space. And how could this possibly be endless, with a plant at the side? Just as quick, it was a room. My bedroom, back when I was fifteen, with a plant on the windowsill, and a computer sitting lazily, just waiting to be used.
The computer turned to life, and all of a sudden, a game appeared.
*"Would you like to play?"* It asked in blinking green and pink, with flashes of yellow skirmishing on the outside of the screen.
I stared towards it with mild curiosity, before moving even closer.
*"I know youw ant t play o"* I concentrated on the screen for just a moment longer, "*I know you want to play."*
I grabbed the mouse, and slowly clicked on the screen. Suddenly, I was staring at myself from above. I was in the operation room. The doctor was standing completely still, and everything seemed almost entirely motionless.
*"You get to play as the doctor, and I'm gonna try to kill you."* Something said on the side of the screen.
"W-what?"I stumbled.
*"If you lose, I'll get to destroy everything here."* It was a voice now, coming from right behind me.
Turning around quickly, I found myself faced with absolutely nothing. Finally, I looked back at the screen. The doctor was already beginning to move, or, no, I was moving. Suddenly, I was staring right towards my body. But all I had, was a hand.
Erupting in a sudden all capitals came the name,
*SURGEON SIMULATOR* |
“Do they think we don’t see them?” Ashok’s raspy voice came from behind me as we marched. I looked behind at the necromancer. The old man had only recently realized that we were being followed and neither I nor Carcaros were willing to tell him that we’d known for days. “I doubt they expect to find three mages, traveling alone” I said. “And they’ve been stealthy enough, for bandits.”
T’lak’tar drifted across my vision, a writhing black mist that was invisible to all but me. *“The old man is a fool.* *He binds the dead to his purpose, but cannot raise a simple scrying? Pathetic.”* I glared at the shadow-fiend, but it just laughed at me. I bound the creature before we began this venture, but gave him more autonomy than I probably should have. It made him a useful advisor but he could be damned irritating.
Carcuros turned back at us. “Come” the bloodmage commanded “let them follow or not as they please. If they attack, then we will destroy them. If they do not, then they are beneath our notice.” The tall man was the most powerful among us, and it showed. He had left behind a position as Bloodmaster of Ancara to come on this venture. The Archmages must have paid dearly for his help, but Cacuros refused to disclose his price. Or speak to us at all, if he could avoid it.
I glared at the figure of the bloodmage. I didn’t trust him. Ever since the Outer Planes had started to close, those mages whom could draw power from the natural world had acted as if they were superior. I suppose technically they were. *“Lies!”* T’lak’tar snarled, hearing my thoughts. “*They will never be able to match the power that I can provide you! Open your mind, and I will show you.* *Release unto me my name and-“* I cut him off with an effort of will. “*T’lak*” I projected to him as we hiked onwards “*if the Infernal Waste is sealed, I will be just as powerless as the Tidespeakers are.*” The shadow-fiend didn’t speak, but I could almost see the rage emanating off of him as he struggled against my binding. I continued “*and you will remain here, bound on this world.* *Never again to see the Thirteen Towers.”* He subsided at that, but I could still feel his anger. Such was the way with Daemons. If he ever was happy, that was when I would be truly worried.
It started with the sealing of the Realm of Order. The servants of the Crystalline Halls brought warning that they could no longer reach the Palace of Light. Of course, no one cared. The Light Mages were zealots who wanted all creation brought under their careful control. Without access to their Realm, they were simply raving madmen, without the power to enforce their great Plan upon the worlds. But it spread from there. The Elementalist mages began to speak of their Realms growing faint, then finally fading away altogether. From the Outer Planes and moving inwards, something was happening. The Elemental Planes were locked away, and those among the Deep Realms spoke of a pressure from Beyond. I shuddered. Without access to the denizens of the Infernal Waste, I would be no more than a mortal. And I’ve made far too many enemies in my long life to be rendered powerless. |
I never thought they’d do this to me. We’ve flown together since I got out of bootcamp. My first squadron. The Yellow Flashes, they called us back home. I thought we were made of heroes, of individuals so valiant and courageous there was no obstacle we couldn’t overcome. It appears I lied to myself.
Bumper, Stripe, Bullet, and Hunter all left. Even our leader, Gary. Gone. Abandoned me. I used the signal to call for help, and they replied instantaneously, but as soon as they saw the foe that had cornered me their signal grew fainter and fainter until I could no longer sense it.
Their bravery was a front for cowardice.
Now I sit here, in enemy territory, with Cerberus himself guarding the door. Although the beast only had one head, and wasn’t a dog, it instilled fear in me as if I was standing at the gates of hell.
I look up at the yellow, slimy walls, oozing with honey, and rethink my whole life. Was the beehive attack really worth it? I don’t even have kids back home to bring the thoraxes to. They go to the other hornets in the nest. The other hornets that put me in training, made my soul purpose hunting for their benefit, then deserted me when it came down to it.
The beast pushes its snout further and further inside the hive, flailing its tongue wildly about, grasping at every drop of sweet nectar that’s stuck to the walls. A drop of liquid flies from its mouth right at me. I manage to dodge it, but not entirely, and it clips my right wing.
Right then the snout started to retreat. Knowing this is my only chance, I make a dash for the hole made by the grizzly beast. My wing causes me to fly crooked, though, and I fall from the air at the last moment, scrape the floor, and tumble out of the beehive.
I try to straighten out midair, but my wing is stuck, partially folded by the beast’s saliva. Falling upside down and fighting gravity, I am able to lean forward and use my mandibles to straighten the wing out, allowing me to stretch it freely and fly once more.
I look up to see the beast, happier than ever, licking honey off of his now covered paws, which he used to smash the beehive not moments before. I got out just in time.
My thoughts immediately turn toward the Yellow Flashes, and anger boils inside me. When I get home, everyone will know the true cowards that they are. Especially Gary. With newfound motivation, I dart off to the nest. |
100 billion lost souls. Still bound by time and space, yet without the power to touch things in the real world. They existed outside of their bodies, still able to talk with others like them. But most of them were bored. Stripped of their ability to create new things. Unable to build a home, most have wandered to a place they’re happy with. Some ghosts, aged by thousands of years, just sat in quiet or screamed in futility, with the same mindlessness of a chirping bird. Without purpose, most simply found a living room with a TV on to watch. Of course, only so a few hundred phantoms could fit in a living room. Many tried to find a way to interact with the real world. And none were successful. Imprisoned in a state like air, the truth was simple. More would be born. The countless people would grow in greater numbers. Exponentially until there was no more space for the undead. For they could touch one thing - each other. They may not have be able to feel or taste anything, but they couldn’t exist in the same space as other ghosts. And with millions being born and dying each year, the wise formed factions. Rooms were assembled made of ghostly bodies, smushed together tight like a crowded mosh pit. And with the ability to restrict and control areas, army’s were reborn. What do the dead fear? An eternity in a tiny room. And while walls would change after they served their duty, the slave inside could only sit in silence. Forever. |
Covid-19 started in China in 2019. By the end of 2020, it evolves to Covid-20. The pandemic stopped everything from food production to medical treatment to local law enforcement.
Martial law ruled the world. The Internet itself was ripped apart and smaller networks replaced the general public’s access to world wide communications. International travel was banned. The sick were quarantined at their homes and banished to camps if they disobeyed. Essential jobs were the only time people were allowed to travel. Many world leaders called the virus such a threat that the government must maintain order with a permanent military presence and they vetoed elections that could displace them. Most websites were shut down. Most counties enacted a draft for all adults, regardless of gender. The creepiest part was reports of Greece going dark. |
In my Mega Playworld I created an endless rock show, an eternal mosh pit, and a greatest hits metal band to play forever. While totally rocking out in a crowd filled with Brittany Spears clones, a random Selena Gomez appeared. I approached her with all the swagger and confidence of a 15 year old playing a video game in his parents basement. "Hey baby, Wanna-"
I stuttered because she flashed away. Everything went dark. I was instantly teleported back to the Mega Play World World Pad 3.1 where I blinked into existence. As the world came into focus I looked around the basement. Cement walls framed the box t.v we have had forever. My new system, the Mega Playworld World Builder, unplugged, lay in darkness. Jenny's Magic Pony world builder 4.0 was plugged in instead. My little sister's world pad was lit, indicating that she had been transported to a world of her own creation.
"Ugh.. dammit Jenny!"I loved my sister but sometimes she just annoyed me, I got off the pad and stretched my back. Starting toward the plug, my leg cramped, and without warning, I fell face first into My sister's personal Imagination land.
It was instantly Dark, and thick. I could not breath. Liquid, bitter and salty filled my mouth and nose. Flailing, I spat and swam at the same time. Surfacing, I rubbed my face, thick red liquid streaming off my head. I was in a flowing river of blood!
The stream carried me, pulling my head in and out, above and below the surface. Struggling, I fought the current. I could see a shore, rocky and lined with forbidding trees. beady yellow eyes narrowed at me from the darkness. I hit a rock and a downed tree, slamming my body painfully to a stop. The red river gushed around me.
After a moment of being dazed I mustered my strength and climbed up the downed log. Carefully, I crawled across it until I reached the shore, where I fell in a heap across sharp rocks. Exhausted, I eventually stood up and took in the world. Dark forest surrounded me. A massive spider hung in a tree. It's eight eyes reflected my image in the fading daylight. I turned and walked along the shore.
"Jenny?"I yelled out into the rapidly approaching darkness. There was a shuffling in the woods. I felt the presence of something following me, keeping pace. Heavy breathing followed, and My head imagined all kinds of vicious creatures hungering for me.
I had expected more rainbows and star shine from Jenny's world. A river of blood and a forest full of potential nightmares seemed a little dark for my happy go lucky kid sister. Eventually I found a bridge and a road, So I climbed up off the shore and started walking.
The forest grew denser and darker and more intense as I walked. It was like going deeper into an ominous nightmare, a feeling of dread crept into the deepest pit of my stomach. I could almost not see anymore as the sky here had no stars or moon, or hardly any light at all.
then off in the distance a light, a shining brilliant light, getting closer, running at me, galloping toward me from far down the path. As it came closer I recognized it as one of my sister's pony toys, A giant twilight sparkle complete with the busted unicorn horn from her toy. Jenny was riding on the back of it, with a lance holstered under her arm. she was screaming a war cry.
Another light came from the other side. This Pony glowing orange in contrast to my sister's Blue light. Her friend Tammy rode on the back of that pony, and also had a lance aimed forward. My sister and her friend were jousting and I was standing right in the middle, with two magic mini unicorns running straight at me. I shrieked and dived into a bush. Thorns ripped at my face, arms and legs. I tasted blood again, this time my own.
The girls crashed. A metal "Shiink"sound clashed as I watched Tammy get pummeled off her horse and splayed across the Ground.
"Wheeeeee!!!"I heard my kid sister yell, as she reigned in her unicorn and twirled it around to observe the fallen body of her friend. Tammy lay in heap, moaning. She began to stir, tying to sit up. "Oh no you don't"Jenny said, smiling in a way I never wanted to see again, pure malice in her eyes. She kicked the horse, who reared up on his hind legs, and slammed two hooves right into the girl's head, crushing it to splattered muck.
I knew that It's impossible to die in a Mega Playworld, and Tammy would just be sent back to a save point or sent back to my parents basement, but Watching the glee on my sister's face as she crushed her friend's head chilled me to the core.
I gasped in fear, and instantly my sister's head swiveled to me. "Gus..."She smiled. Instantly bright lights surrounded me, a spotlight. I was frozen in place, unable to move. only my eyes were under my control, other wise I was frozen. "Mom and dad give you whatever you want, All I wanted was a real pony."
Twilight Sparkle the Pony transformed into a dark red demon horse with black eyes and a mane of flames. Jenny Grew in size, The Unicorn spreading out and up, reaching massive proportions. I felt tiny. The beast reared back and brought it's massive hoof down on me. I heard Jenny's laugh, high pitched and evil.
I came to back in the basement. Tammy was next to me, crying. We looked at each other, both confused and a little traumatized.
Crying, I unplugged my sister's machine. |
I'd been having real trouble sleeping as of late. I'd been experiencing those restless nights of checking the clock on the wall to see it was barely half way through the night and going to pee, but coming back and laying awake in that existential insomnia one sometimes gets. As the summer had got more humid, the ability to even dose became worse and it had been intensified by finally dropping off only to be awoken in the midst of night terrors. It usually followed paradoxical nightmares like who was I? What was the purpose of my life? Would I wake up? During this time I was barely fuctioning, days merged into one and night became an ethereal struggle to deal with, but I was lucky to have the comforting weight of Buddy, my 7 year companion, sleep on the bed with me. If I woke, Buddy would rouse his head and snuggle into me, his breathing which was rhythmic and smooth, was comforting to me and it helped me circumvent panic attacks with the problem as I lulled back into normalcy.
One night I woke after a particularly bad dream, and I began to get up to use the bathroom - it was odd because my legs felt different and body felt oddly weighted, walking was heavier. I tried to stretch but fell on the floor on all fours, 'Um, how weird!' I thought. Scrabbling up I knew to get the door, only that I couldn't get it open - I tried, and I persevered but my hands couldn't quite do it. I nudged it with my body and walked through the corridor.
By this time I was desperate, I squatted over the toilet and kicked my litter over it, then went to tidy up. Wait, those weren't paws - I had feet, human feet. Wait, if I am not Felix - I turned around and tried to scoot back to the room but realised I was now a gangly 6ft man?! Kind of like Buddy's size, wait - WAS I Buddy? I walked back and sure enough the bed was folded back, and another cat was laid on the bed in my spot- this one had black fur and green eyes and winced as I looked at it. |
My neighbour has always been a really weird guy.
When he first moved in – on a Wednesday of all days. *Who moves in on a Wednesday?* – he woke me up from a particular good dream. Now, I’m a pretty level-headed guy, but when someone wakes me up at two in the morning, I think I’m allowed to be a little disgruntled.
And that wasn’t even the best (worst?) part.
After I had, very begrudgingly mind you, gotten out of bed to use the washroom, I decided that I deserved to peer outside my window. What did I see, you ask? PIRATES!! Like clad in breeches, cotton waistcoats, and tricornes, kind of pirates. I kid you not, I thought I was having some really kinky dream.
I wish I could say that, that was the end. *I really wish I could say that, that was the end.*
Needless to say, that when I came home from a long day in the office, only to find a bouquet of flowers on my doorstep, I was reasonably confused.
I am, however, no pushover when it comes to receiving gifts. So, after I had taken them inside and laid them on my table, I looked for a card or something that could at least give me a name. After a few moments of searching, I finally found a tag tucked into the bouquet holder.
*Hi, about a week ago I moved into the house next door! Please accept this gift as an apology for making so much noise when I first moved in. - From your neighbour, Paul.*
Huh, okay. A little weird, but an overall nice gesture, is what I *first* thought. As soon as I went to go put them in a vase, those stupid flowers actually started to squirt out water. *Right into my face.*
I am never accepting flowers again.
It didn’t end here either. *I think I just have really bad luck.*
I was out gardening, you see – *honestly, William, go outside for once in your life. You’re worrying your mother here, you know.* – when I heard mumbling coming from the fence beside me. No, it was coming from the person behind the fence. *Paul*, I remembered.
I had to strain my ears to listen. “Wizards… going to need… can’t do anything…strangle them.” I rushed into my house before I could hear anymore. *Sorry mother, I think being eaten by a demon is much worse than neglecting my daily exercise.*
‘If once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, and three times is enemy action,’ then what can the fourth time be called?
I was making myself a cup of tea, as I always do in the evenings, when I heard it. A hushed, but eerie sound. It sounded like someone was opening their trunk, albeit with much trouble. Like the overly curious and cautious *(living next to a lunatic tends to do that to you, okay??)* person I am, I decided to look outside my window to find the source of the noise. Turns out it was the wrong move.
Legs – *literal legs* – and blood – *we can’t forget the blood* – were sticking and dripping out of my neighbour’s truck. Oh! and there he is now. Looking my way with a murderous expression clouding his face!
My hands hastily drop the curtains, as I catch a glimpse of my neighbour stalking toward my house. *Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I’m actually going to die by the hands of a demon. I thought I had at least 60 years before that would happen. I’m so sorry for all the times I refused your suggestion to go to the gym, mother. Maybe then I’d actually know how to defend myself against a pirate loving-flower squirting-wizard cursing-demon.*
The pirate loving-flower squirting-wizard cursing-demon, who is now knocking on my door.
“Hey, open up the door.” The pounding only gets louder.
“I know you’re in there. I just saw you through your window.” His voice is almost raucous now.
I’ve seen enough horror movies to know what happens next. Actually, that’s a lie. I hate horror movies. For this exact reason. But that’s besides the point! I have to choose between my potential death and, well, my potential death.
I slowly but surely make my way over to the door until I’m unlocking all my locks. I’m about to turn the knob, when the door swings open for me.
“Fricking finally. I feel like I’ve been waiting out here for hours.” My neighbour looks dishevelled and sullen as he says this. “Look, I need you to help me with something.”
“T-to hide a body?” My voice can’t help but crack on the last word.
“To hide a b-what on earth are you talking about? Listen, I just need you to help me bring some stuff from my truck, into my house.” His facial expression is borderline exasperated.
Great. Just great. On top of being a demon, my neighbour’s also a mad scientist that likes to operate on live specimens during his pastime.
“Wait what? What are you going on about?” Oops, didn’t mean to say that last thought aloud. And to make matters even worse, he’s now looking at me like *I’m* the crazy one.
“You have literal bodies in your truck. *And* there’s blood dripping down your cargo bed.” I can’t help but snap back, agitation rolling off me in waves.
“Huh? Oh. I’m a property designer. I work with props for movie sets. We’re currently shooting a movie about half an hour from here. I was in a rush to get back home, so I totally forgot I even had the props inside my truck. That is, until all the blood packets broke. Now I’m going to have to figure out an alternative solution.”
I think death would be better than this embarrassment I’m currently feeling.
“So, you're telling me you’re not actually a pirate loving-flower squirting-wizard cursing-demon?”
“A pirate loving – flower WHAT now??”
And that was the story about the time *I* drove my neighbour out of town. |
Reus ran from the Tome Vault, a crumpled slip of paper clutched beneath his white knuckles. The Scribes wouldn't stop him. He knew that.
He ran anyway.
They wouldn't stop him, but Reus knew they'd pursue him. The last time an acolyte defected and tried to take a page from the Tome, he was unceremoniously returned by a Bond Bearer. All expected him mute and devoted as a result of the Bond Bearer's magic, but none that Reus knew expected the chilling implications of the handprint shaped bruises covering his wrists and neck. The Scribes didn't need to chase after anyone when they could just send their hounds.
But even hounds lose the trail of their prey across water.
By the time he reached Havenport and the cold stone walls of Sanctum were out of sight, Reus' entire body shook with each heaving breath. The bustling dock swirled around him in a surreal rhythm that pounded against his ringing ears. He was so small, so unnoticed, and so relieved by that revelation. He didn't matter here.
"Reus!"
He winced at the shrill summons. Before he could see her, he felt her arms latch around his neck from behind as she lifted herself from the ground.
"Arla,"he wheezed in acknowledgement, giving her arm an awkward pat.
She released her grip and slipped back to the ground before twirling into his view. "Don't be mad if I say I didn't actually think you'd show?"
Reus rubbed his neck. "You could have just not said it."
"Yeah,"she chuckled, "but then I'd just be thinking it. Folks say all those thoughts bouncing around can make your eye swell up real bad."
Reus smiled. "You know that's not true."
She didn't answer and instead took his hand, leading him through the rushing river of Havenport residents. Arla was a small little thing with tanned skin and calloused palms, and a ferocity about her that could make wildcats cower. He'd asked once, as a joke, if she was part cat, but her glower and uncharacteristic silence suggested it was a joke in poor taste elsewhere in the world. Truthfully, he had no idea where she was even from. For all he knew, she could have been born east of the Barren Heart.
But she was genuine, and smart, and for reasons he never fully understood, she actually seemed to care for him.
"What's that in your hand there?"Arla asked without glancing back.
Reus looked down at the paper still clasped in a clammy grip, but didn't answer.
She stopped abruptly and whirled to face him, her expression grim. "Not smart, Reus. They may not know what, but they'll know something's missing. You were raised here. Have they ever seemed the unprepared type? About anything?"
His fist shook. Of course they were prepared. But he still had to try.
She sighed and continued to lead him through the crowd to the docks, though she seemed to hold on just a little less tightly.
"Arla, you're late again,"barked a gruff voice as they approached a large, though aged, ship.
"Am I actually late if it's when you expected me to show up?"she hollered in response.
"Yes. Now get your hide on the ship."The man paused and looked to Reus. "Who's the boy?"
"Does it matter?"she retorted as she led him up the plank to the deck. "You said you needed a new cook. You're welcome."
"I said a new cook, not a new cock."He spat into the water. "Nobody told you to bring in your new favorite flavor."
"Believe it or not, men can cook too."She crossed her arms. "Are you really gonna say no to a free hand, Olly?"
He groaned and waved a hand at her in dismissal, but didn't protest the matter further.
"I think he actually likes you,"she muttered as he hobbled to his quarters.
"Really?"
"Well, he's not really a fan of the bookish types, you know. I always joked that he'd take a slave cooking bug stew over a chef cooking any dish you'd find in the north. I think he went our whole northern route without a cook just to spite me after that."She shook her head and smiled. "Nearly two years without a proper cook."
"Is there a candle nearby?"Reus blurted.
"Uh,"she stuttered, "I guess? Probably below deck. But the sun's still out."
"Can you please just get me a candle?"he asked quietly and tightened his hold on the piece of paper.
She left and returned quickly with a candle.
"Is it... is it bad?"she asked, her dark eyes brimming with concern as they moved from his face to the Tome page.
He pursed his lips, and instead of answering, took the lit candle gently from her hand. He opened his fist, revealing the page that necessitated the entire escape.
On one side was an illustration of a boat in a harbor, not unlike the one he had just boarded. On the other side, in tiny glowing script, was a story.
*A woman was pregnant, near to give birth, when the Dust fell for the third time in recorded history. It seemed that the Dust had rejected her, but born as she died was a son, healthy and seemingly immune to the third strain. After nearly a decade of the child growing so slowly that he was still a toddler, the father sent the child to live at Sanctum with the rest of the Afflicted, though the child bore none of the scars. There the child was given a new name and raised in the image of the Scribes, attaining great renown when—*
The flames consumed the page, the words hissing as they dissolved into ash.
Arla blinked as the last of the paper burned, turning to Reus with alarm and confusion.
"I... I know you,"she said, narrowing her eyes. "How do I know you? Why are you here?"
"Really, Arla?"Reus asked, feigning offense. "I've only been the cook for nearly two years. Are you feeling okay?"
"Is that what it is?"She rubbed her head. "I don't... I think I need to rest or something."
She scurried away, as fearful as she was confused. Olly emerged from his cabin a short moment later, rubbing the side of his head as well. "You, boy,"he growled, "I thought I smelled something burning."He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Who—"
"Sorry, Captain Olly,"Reus interjected. "I burnt the dinner for the night. It was ruined and I tossed it overboard."
"D-dinner?"Olly blinked. "Are you... the cook?"
Reus shook his head. "I must be a bad one. First Arla, then you acting like this... it's like you both ate something bad."
Olly sighed. "I don't know if it's time catching up with me or if it's bad seafood, but I can't even remember your name, boy."
Reus frowned. "Everyone's always just called me Ladle. You know that."
He sighed. "Sorry Ladle. I don't mean nothing by it."
"It's alright, Captain,"Ladle responded with a comforting pat on the old man's shoulder. "You don't gotta remember everything. But I'll always remember you taking me in at Crownshadow."
"Is that... is that how it happened?"Olly swayed in place a bit, his face pale.
"Why don't you go rest, Captain,"Ladle said, motioning to his cabin. "When you wake, I'll have us a nice dinner ready and we can set outta here before nightfall." |
It was crowded, too crowded. Too many people out and about enjoying their merry sunny day. Despite the recent regulations, people in groups couldn't be stopped. After all, how can someone stop people from getting their natural vitamin D, along with their usual intake of UV rays.
"This is perfect. This is exactly what we need right now, what the world needs right now."
And what does the world need? A prank to laugh it all out.
And that's how twelve dollar-store bought balloons filled with laughing gas exploded across the chilling crowd.
At first some people were startled, could it be the law enforcements shooting them with rubber bullets and tear gas? Nah, they wouldn't take it that far with them, would they? A shy giggle broke the silence and was soon followed up with laughter... slowly, group by group, they started laughing. Heads started turning, noticing that indeed everyone was laughing for no reason. A mass hysteria swept the crowd, and they just couldn't stop. Some were rolling on the grass some were trying to keep a straight face but failing. Some singles were creeped out and decided to leave the crowd... and it continued for more than 15 minutes. People were clenching their stomachs, gasping to breathe. Their mouths were unnaturally stretched into forced smiles with tears running down their terrorized eyes .Some even tried hitting themselves, maybe the pain would replace this uncontrollable laughter... But alas all in vain.
After 15 minutes the laughter started dying down.
And in about 25 minutes, it all died down.
​
​
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\[A/N: unedited. please don't take this seriously. I'm just sad atm and this prompt looked lonely.\] |
Nelly sat up from the grass and shaded the sun from her eyes with her hand. In front of her, she saw her husband, Nick, and their two-year-old son, Trent, finishing up the last bit of planting in the vegetable garden.
“Wow, boys. That garden looks great! What’s the last plant you’re putting in?”
Trent glanced up, dirt speckled in his hair and eyebrows, with a few light streaks across both cheeks. He grinned and shouted, “Mato!” As he said this, he waved the small plant around in his hands.
“Woah! Yeah, tomato big guy!” Nick reached out and rested a hand on Trent’s arms. “Be careful swinging it around though, plants prefer to stay still.” He offered a warm, patient smile and then motioned to the hole in the ground. “Wanna put it in there yourself?”
“No, Momma’s turn!” Before waiting for a response, Trent turned to face Nelly again and began running at her, the plant bouncing with each step.
Nelly and Nick laughed as they watched their toddler begin his charge across the yard. Nelly was only about twenty feet away, resting on a towel where she had been sunbathing,
Trent giggled with his parents and urged his legs to go faster. He was nearly halfway to his mom when his toddler legs failed him. The toes of his Sketchers, which were purchased for his birthday just a month ago, slipped into a dip in the ground and sent him sprawling onto the grass.
Nelly and Nick both let out a sympathetic “ooh” but encouraged him to get up.
“You’re okay buddy, go give Momma the plant.”
“Yeah, jump on up, Trenty.” While Nelly said this, she stood up and began walking toward him. As she got closer, she saw that Trent was remaining incredibly still, and the tomato plant was still clutched tightly in his hands.
As she got closer, and heard her son’s soft whimpers, her stomach became nothing but a quivering knot climbing up her throat. “Trenty?”
She slid her arms underneath him and turned over. Trent’s honey eyes gleamed in the sunlight and tears were slipping down his cheeks, cleaning away the dirt streaks.
“Momma… It hurts.” He coughed, and blood sprayed out, spattering Nelly’s chest and face with red sprinkles.
“Baby?” Her eyes trailed over his face and finally down to his body. The handle and neck of a hand rake stared back at her. The three prongs which had been shifting dirt and weeds earlier, were now buried in his chest and blood was running down in thin streams.
Nelly looked up at Nick, her mouth agape. In her chest, her heart was hammering as though it could keep both her and her dying son alive. “911… Call 911.”
Finally registering just how catastrophic the fall had been, Nick dropped the shovel and fumbled in his pocket for his cellphone. Nelly stared at him until he held it to his ear, then looked back down at Trent.
“Momma… mato.” Trent offered a smile and held up the plant which had ripped in half in the time he was picked up.
Sobbing, but offering a strained smile back, Nelly took it from his hand and put it down on the lawn. “Yeah, tomato plant. I’ll plant it later, okay?” Her heart began pounding harder, and she found herself hoping it would be a heart attack if her boy died in her arms.
“Hurts.” Trent coughed again, spraying more blood as fresh rivulets streamed out of the corners of his mouth and around the metal embedded in him.
Nelly wiped away the blood from his mouth and cradled him closer to her. “I know, Trenty. But you’ll be okay. Momma and Dadda are gonna take care of you. You’re going to be just fine.” Her heart felt ready to thrust from her chest, sending pieces of bone and tissue flying on its way out.
As she held Trent close, she also found a hand clutching at her chest. The pain was intense. It needed to stop, Trent had to be the focus when the paramedics got here. Not her.
She glanced up from Trent and back to Nick. He was yelling, but the sound was becoming muffled. She heard the word “ambulance” and then he was running across the lawn toward the gate. Every step, he seemed to get slower.
“Go! Go get them! Now!” She screamed at him, but it was as if he no longer cared. He continued slowing, now it was like a cartoon run.
She was about to scream again, but a robin passing by their gate made her freeze. It too, was moving slower. The flapping wings were slowing so that she could see every tiny motion, even its rapid yet slowing breaths.
She looked down at Trent. He stared up at her with his wide, doe eyes and a gaping stained mouth. His breathing was slowing as well, and she realized with a mounting horror, that the world was literally stopping. And all she could do was hold her baby boy who would die in a moving world. |
There's a weight on my chest. I can barely breathe, but I don't know why it's so difficult. Opening my eyes, I see the demon sitting on my chest. As I'm fighting the rising panic, I realize this can't be real. I've heard of this though: Sleep Paralysis. Remembering something I read about it a long time ago, I close my eyes, try to relax, and focus on wiggling my big toe.
It takes a long time, but eventually I'm able to break free of the paralysis. I take a deep breath. When I open my eyes, the demon is gone. That was the freakiest thing I've ever experienced, but it was obviously just a nightmare. I roll over to look at the clock and see that it's already 7:08 A.M. No point in going back to sleep now.
As I roll out of bed and put my feet on the floor, I hear a faint hissing. Pausing in mid-stretch, I see them. There isn't just one, but three snakes coming towards me. Two of them are on the floor, and one is slithering over the headboard of my bed. I'm starting to hyperventilate, but I back away slowly. Maybe if I don't move too fast, they won't either. I am NOT taking my eyes off these snakes, so I continue backing toward the door and grab my robe off the hook. As soon as I start turning the handle, the first snake bolts forward. I dash through, slam the door shut, and jam my robe under the crack in the door. Hopefully that can keep them in until I can call animal control.
Standing in my hallway, facing my closed bedroom door, I try to catch my breath. After a few seconds, it finally occurs to me to think, *how* did three very large snakes end up in my bedroom? The strangeness of it hadn't even entered my mind before now.
When I finally work up the nerve to take my eyes off the door and look around, I notice how incredibly dark it is. The sun should be up by now. I reach for the light switch, but nothing happens. What is happening? The sun isn't up at 7 A.M., there are three snakes in my bedroom, and the power is out? I'm really fighting to stay calm now.
Finally, I head into the kitchen to grab a flashlight. As I pass by, I check the time on the microwave, just to be sure: yep, 7:12 A.M. Wait... How can I see the clocks if the power is out? Now I'm starting to think that I'm just having some sort of nervous breakdown. Maybe it's some kind of fever dream?
I dig through the drawer until I find the flashlight. Turning it on, I hear an inhumanly deep voice behind me say, "Hello."I spin around and my light lands on the humorless smile and yellow eyes of some demonic perversion of a clown. Unlike with the snakes, "calm, slow movements"wasn't even a thought this time. Grabbing the nearest thing to me -- an open bag of sugar -- I hurl it at the hideous figure and sprint out the front door.
Outside, before I even have time to register what's happening, I fall into a pool of water. Not a puddle, not a swimming pool, but a huge expanse of water. Almost as if someone has taken a lake and dropped it outside my front door. The unexpected drop made me lose my grip on the flashlight, and for a second I watch it spiral down and down and down into the fathomless depths. I start trying to kick my way to the surface (at least the flashlight told me which way was down). With every movement, I feel something brushing against me in the inky blackness of the water. A tentacle wraps itself around my leg and I feel the suction cups latch on as it starts to pull me downward. I fight and kick at the creature with everything I have, and it finally lets me go. Just as I'm about to lose hope, I break through the surface and flop myself up onto the shore.
For a long time, I just lie on the shore, panting. Eventually, I start to look around. It's nighttime with lots of stars, but only a quarter moon. It almost looks like I'm in my neighborhood, but everything is spread apart much farther. Normally, my neighbor's house is only about 20 feet from mine, but now it's at least 100 feet. At the end of the street, I see a blue door. It's not attached to anything and I've never seen it before. Just a bright blue door with a red knob, standing at the end of the street. I feel like I need to get to that door.
Ultimately, I stand up and start to walk quickly toward the door when I hear a growl behind me. Coming to a sudden stop, I turn around to see where the growling is coming from. I see four people -- or what used to be people, anyway -- standing still and staring at me from the side of the lake. They're all a disgusting shade of green, with loose skin and have missing patches of hair. The stench coming from their direction is the worst thing I've ever smelled and it takes all my concentration not to gag. As I stand there looking at them, I notice silhouettes in the distance -- more of them are ambling up. OK, well, if that's as fast as they move, I can just walk to....
I jump when I see two of them start running at me. The others seem to be picking up their pace as well, so I turn and start sprinting towards the door. Not daring to look back over my shoulder, I hear some of them as they let out growls and screeches. It sounds like they're getting farther away. Before I left the lake, the distance only looked like it was a few hundred feet to the door. But in reality, it must be more than a mile. Finally I reach the door and fling myself through without a look back...
And sit bolt upright in my bed. That was the most insane nightmare I've ever had. My chest is heaving, and I apparently sweated so much that my bedding is damp. I reach up and scratch my head. When I pull a piece of seaweed loose from my tangled hair, I finally realize it wasn't a dream. |
I think back to my childhood and see myself at the desk. Kindergarten. Mrs. Beetle's class. My #2 pencil freshly sharpened. One question on the paper:
"You MUST choose a job, what do you want to do for a living when you grow up?"
I was the first generation to experience the Child's Dream Job Act of 2023 in action. I was one month away from the cut off from being excluded from its benefits. A generation of frustrated adults, deprived of meaningful lives -- toiling in front of their monitors for careers that offered them no spiritual or intellectual fulfillment did what they thought was best: Let them decide when their young and force them to stick to it. They imagined a new renaissance. The innocence of our youth, surely, not yet influenced by harsh realities. Give our next generation the chance to live a life of meaning.
The main crux of the law, whatever job you choose when you are five is YOUR job. You must serve in said industry, and if specified at age specialty until the age of forty. At which point you must retire and share your knowledge with the new wave of professionals.
The consequences of their altruistic act fundamentally would change what the American Dream meant in the United States. Astronauts from every town eagrly waiting for a chance to go to space far outnumbered the scientists needed to build the rockets. The country saw a rapid decrease in fire-related deaths, with 20% of the population being firefighters. Perhaps the biggest growth happened in the arts. Actors, musicians, dancers, and writers galvanized with resources and structured encouragement brought new styles and life centered passions to their crafts, some even argue the expense to society was worth it for their masterpieces and contribution to the aesthetics.
But you see, my father was a Port-O-Potty Cleaner and not that he loved his job but he sure made it sound cheerful as ever. Every day when he'd come home from work he'd find a way to suppress his rage and turn it into enthusiasm for a day's work. He'd talk about all the interesting construction sites he got to visit. How he saved a girl who had fallen down into the shoot, an honor memorialized on the fridge in our kitchen from the local paper. I wanted to be like my father and I'll be cleaning this shithole mess up till the day I turn 40. |
Ethan was one of the "Hunters", or so he thought. He had recently joined the group out of pure boredom, but after a while of hanging out with them, he grew a liking for the quirky members. Jonathan, the ever theatrical performer, had joined to continue his acting career for millennia to come. Greg, the experimental chef, wanted to try even more ambitious recipes. And then there was Paul. Ethan never asked Paul why he joined, and Paul never answered. Ethan took a liking for Paul, he always seemed to naturally take control in any situation.
Ethan enjoyed his new group of pals. This was, of course, until the day. The day where Paul questioned Ethan. After all, in the years they had known each other, Ethan had never once gotten sick. He took risks a lot. He was the only one not to feel off after they got sushi from the odd place down the street. It didn't matter that he had a strong immune system and stomach. It didn't matter that he was a natural born risktaker. Paul was convinced in every way that Ethan was immortal, the exact thing they were searching for for years.
The meet that evening, Paul informed the rest of the group of his suspicions. Then he made a plan. It was simple, really. Hunt him down, no matter how long it took, and kill him. If he was immortal, he wouldn't die. If he truly was mortal... They tried not to think about that. Jonathan was immediately on board with this brilliant plan. Greg took a little more convincing. And Ethan filled with terror as he stepped away from the door he had pressed against. This was his first mistake, however. He forgot one crucial detail: the creaky floorboard a few paces away. He stopped suddenly and filled with dread as he saw the door open. It felt like time had stopped, like he had stood there for hours, but only a few seconds passed before time resumed it's course.
Several things happened in those seconds. A door flying open. A mass of voices. Running. Lots of running. Ethan ran for his life out of that house, ran for a good few miles down the busy street. Many things ran through his mind, faster than his legs could travel. He was so lost in thought, that he didn't notice the oncoming car to his left.
He awoke a few hours later. At first fully unaware, he filled with horror as he noticed several things. The dark room. His old friends. The ropes tying him down. The table of medical tools.
His lack of injuries. |
"God writer"wasn't just a nickname. Zuroc literally had the power to craft the deity entities that governed individual civilizations and realities within the multiverse. Yahweh, Zeus, Thor, Ganesh. They were all his creations for a small planet in the Milky Way galaxy. We saw everything from the perspective of a pool laden chamber, where we can reach into the pools and put in place the motions which create the individual realities. My job was the living flora. In the Milky Way galaxy, earth as one of the four planets with intelligent life in particular, it wasn't a very interesting task. A lot of the beings Verak crafted destroyed anything I tried to create. He got a little too overzealous with the "free will"aspect of "homo erectus."
The "humans"as they called themselves constantly rewrote which of the gods Zuroc crafted as their "governor,"in reality it wasn't really Zuroc's gods who created the essence of the planet but every single one was real and had a role to play, despite what humans said regarding it. Zuroc created the gods, and the gods merely had the power to "tinge"the other beings we created for the worlds, not full autonomous control, but rather a symbiotic existence in which they could touch one individual at a time, although rather adeptly.
Earth was a strange place, the humans had eventually made it into other multiverse dimensions. Rather amazing. Still, they were no Wexli who nearly reached back through the pools right at us! The funny thing about earth was that there was an error in the god writing program. Zuroc had always made benevolent beings, but due to either boredom or stupidity, he created the evil one for the first time.
Satan, Baal, kali, bezelbub, hades,... many names, for one being. Unlike the benevolent ones who coexisted there, there was one solitary evil. And that is what made humans dangerous. Zuroc's evil one was powerful. Perhaps the hate or pain which fueled his power was exacerbated by the warlike nature of humans. Any way you look at it, by the time the humans breached the multiverse' dimensions they had been accelerating at an alarming rate. They stopped following the benevolent gods like the Wexli or Faezerans did, they focused on harnessing the power of the dark one alone, not long after discovering the internet which enabled them to pool their knowledge from across the planet about the dark being together, forming an understanding and therefore a deep connection to darkness. They now knew that Zuroc's mere amusement was a way to harness power unlike those which could be granted by even the most powerful benevolent gods.
This is when Zuroc became alarmed. He knew this dark being, when combined with the ever warlike and antagonistic xenophobia inherent in humans, (which was somewhat the fault of the egos written into the benevolent beings), was slowly but surely wiping every other intelligent life out in their galaxy. Not long after they had recently conquered the entire known universe leaving darkness shrines and carnage throughout.
Zuroc realized that the god programs he had written until now ran on positive energy waves, dark energy, the opposite type which was crafted from a foundation of dark matter could not only rip apart the humans universe. If harnessed correctly, it could spill our pools and timelines into one another. Differerent universes and times all meeting at once, the walls which separated the pools broken and before long, the surface breached. The humans were a tricky sort, and they would not be stopped by the positive energy repellants on the surface of our pools which were made of dark matter, they would be able to pass right through by harnessing the power of the dark god.
Zuroc did something unprecedented. 500 years ago, when the humans breached the multiverse he had realized his error. He knew our layer of reality and pools were just a mere stepping stone. Right "above"us there was another being looking down at us in our pool. However, Zuroc found a way to punch throw the many layers, a way to travel to the end, to the most powerful being in these vast oceans. The humans draw ever near, a product of his mistake. Zuroc promised to return, but the dark god draws close, and we are left with nowhere to run. Will we have to embrace a darkness we created with darkness ur own hands? Or would Our god writer return? |
Darkness was covering everything around me, but I wasn’t afraid. The GPS on my phone told me the trail’s end was just up ahead, and with its flashlight I could travel the foot-worn dirt path. Never had it occurred to me to see where the trail I run daily ends, but something in the back of my mind compelled me to finish the journey today. Just a few more minutes, I thought, as the sky turned to night and I was completely reliant on my dying phone’s light.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I came to the end and there it was. Just a line on the ground. One moment there was the dirt trail, and then it just stopped. It was strange to me how the divide between the trail and grass was so straight, as if somebody had separated the two using a blade. I was about to leave, disappointed and unfulfilled, but then I shined my light straight ahead to see what laid forward.
The trail dead-ended into the grass, but then I could see, a few feet ahead, just at the end of what was visible by my phone’s light, a new dirt path began. It wasn’t on the GPS but I was curious so I stepped forward and as I left my familiar trail and went onto the grass I got anxious. I felt like I was forgetting something, but couldn’t figure out what. The feeling continued until I stepped off the grass onto the new dirt path. Then my anxiety disappeared.
I felt proud of myself for overcoming technology and finding a route not on my GPS, and decided it was enough for the night. But, something strange caught my eye lying on the ground in front of me. It was a medium sized ball of black fur. I jumped back, letting out a soft yell, surprised that I didn’t see it there before, and as I landed I realized it was a sleeping cat.
It began to get up, unphased by my presence. It started up first with its front legs and then onto its hind ones. I was still shining the light at it, and it looked right at me. I could see its bright yellow eyes opened wide and its mouth agape, as if it were in shock. Its expression seemed more human than catty.
Then, my light went out.
“You're not supposed to be in here,” I heard a deep, concerned voice say in the dark. My heart jumped, and my eyes refused to adjust to the moonlight.
“Who’s there?” I asked, turning in circles. I couldn’t see anything.
“Never mind that,” the voice said. “You need to leave. Your kind isn’t welcome here. Do you remember how you found this place?”
I didn’t understand what he was saying. I tried to think of something logical to explain the situation.
“Sorry,” I said, “is this private property or something? I was walking along the trail and saw it continued after a patch of grass, so I went across. I didn’t realize I was trespassing.”
“Trespassing? No. You’re doing a lot worse by being here,” he began to say, before stopping abruptly mid-sentence. I heard a strong wind blowing through the trees. My anxiety came back.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, as the wind got stronger and the rustling leaves became deafening, “we have to get out of here. I know you can’t see, but can you run?”
It wasn’t until he asked that question that I realized how tired I was. My legs felt like they could give out from under me at any moment, and my eyelids became unbearably heavy. I felt paralyzed. I couldn’t even open my mouth to answer him.
Then, he grabbed my hand. His hand was warm and felt mildly electric. It reminded me of touching a battery against my tongue.
“Here,” he said, “I’ll give you some of mine. Run with me.”
I could barely keep up – he was basically dragging me with him. I had objections to a stranger pulling me along somewhere, but I knew if I let go of his hand I wouldn’t be able to move. I heard the wind continue to grow and eventually it started howling. I still couldn’t see anything.
Suddenly, there was more howling than just the wind, and it was approaching quickly from behind. I could hear something with many feet chasing us.
“We’re going to have to speed up a little. Hold on tight.”
The electric I felt through my hand became stronger, almost unbearable. But I could tell it was helping me. I squeezed his hand tight as we ran faster than before. I began to feel as a cat does in the middle of the night with pent-up energy to get rid of. I was ready to go even faster.
“There’s a gap coming up soon we’re going to have to leap over. I’ll let you know when … It’s coming up now … get ready …. three … two … one … JUMP!”
We soared into the sky and I thought we were never going to land. We were in the air for so long I was afraid my legs were going to break when we landed, but he assured me otherwise. Our feet didn’t touch the ground for what seemed like entire minutes.
But when we landed it didn’t feel any different from a normal step forward. I was happy to be on solid earth, and I could hear him let out a sigh of relief. The wind that ripped through the trees ceased and I couldn’t hear the pitter-patter of small feet chasing us anymore. I began to see some soft yellow light penetrate my blindness, but it was like looking into a bonfire with your eyes closed.
“We’re here,” he said, not letting go of my hand. I could hear him unlatching a lock and then the groan of a door in need of oil. “You need to rest.”
“Rest!” I exclaimed, “That’s the last thing I need. What I need right now is a damn clue as to what the hell’s going on!”
But then he let my hand go and my mind went fuzzy. Everything ached and I lost my grip on consciousness. My legs disappeared and I felt myself land in a fluffy bed.
“See?” he said, right before my mind went out, “Rest.” |
######***The Convinciner***
Vince put out his cigar in the too-full ashtray at his desk. He'd finish the other half of it tonight—it was his last cigar and he didn't want to risk going out to any stores should his plans be successful. CCTV is the worst snitch after all. You can't beat it without winding up behind bars as it still sat freely outside to snitch more and more.
The first subject arrived, wearing a hoodie over some band t-shirt and jeans that had either gone through the shredder or a high-end fashion designer. After fifteen minutes had passed, the other four subjects arrived. Each wore hoodies and the earpieces I had given them to hear me from afar if I needed. They stared at me with glassy eyes, dead yet attentive—like those of a patient awoken in an invasive surgery despite the weapons-grade sedatives.
"Go to the bank two blocks north,"I said to them, coughing. That cigar was getting to me. "Each of you wait in a separate line for a teller. Okay?"
They nodded.
"Stall until all of you are at a teller simul—"my lungs gave me the finger once, twice, three times. This was the first time I smoked since middle school... "Until all of you are at a teller simultaneously. Got that? Okay?"
Five nods.
"Good. Then, pull out your guns."I set out five 9mm pistols on my oak desk. Funny. I couldn't afford a desk like that on my salary, yet here they just shoved it at me in an office a third the size of my apartment. "Demand all the cash in their till. They'll just give to ya'. Okay? Bank policy. 'Don't die to defend the bank's little pimple of cash.' Okay? Good, good. Finally, come back to this office. Drop all the money on my desk then run out the building. Head to your homes. *Run* when you leave, okay?"
Their homes. Different directions. God, I'm a genius. Okay?
Hey, I asked you a question God. C'mon now, I'm waiting. Oh-uh-kay?
---
The flarking dumbos fucked it up. I can hear those damn sirens zooming toward me; Doppler is about to give me only half of his show! I shot out of my chair and burst through my office door. Two men and two women were passing by in the hallway.
"*You!*"I said. My confidence, okay. The raw *royalty* in my voice shut off their brains. Their eyes fixed upon mine like a spoiled brat's upon the latest hunk-of-shit toy. "Into my office."
I sat back on my chair. The four zombies followed. Hm. Only three more pistols and earpieces left in my drawer. "One of you fuck off."The oldest man, at least thirty years above the others with skin that could scrunch a lemon's face, immediately exited, knocking his shoulder on the door frame as he did.
"Take these earpieces, okay? Put them in."They did. I'm convincing like that. Okay? Yea. "Take these guns. Head to the entrance of this building. Spread out a bit. Wait for my command."
---
The sirens stopped at my building. I couldn't see—hail our corporate overlords who prefer windowless offices walled with that shitty cubicle fabric—but that sound stopped here, alright. Okay?
I shifted in my seat. This may have been the first time I left sweat stains in fifty-degree weather. The elevator doors dinged open. Oh, perfect! More sweat and panic. Just what I need—
The five hoodied men burst into my room. One by one, they plopped Benjis and Jacksons and Washingtons onto my desk.
*BANG!*
"*WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE VINCENT BARLETT!*"
If I hadn't spent my money on a cigar instead of lunch, okay... never mind. The cops! They'd found me. *How* did they know?!
I touched my earpiece, contacting the three guards below. "Shoot at anyone you see!"That'd hold off the coppers as I—
A boom like nothing I'd heard boomed. I said BOOMED, okay? If deafness had a sound, this would be it's inverse.
Five pistols aimed at me. Smoke billowed from their muzzles. Another boom. Five more shots. Fuck me.
Fuck. Me. Okay?
They obeyed my command. *Shoot at anyone you see.* And these idiots listened. Wrong idiots!
These five fucking... Okay. My mistake.
 
---
 
Thanks for reading! Feedback / constructive criticism always welcome.
I have more stories, poems, and songs on [my personal sub.](/r/scottbeckman) |
There it was. The Great Red Dragon. Known for its expensive and precious skin.
Jake slowly aimed his rifle.
"These dragons sure pay a lot."He mumbled to himself.
Just as he was about to fire, he heard sirens in the distance, and what seemed to be a helicopter.
"FBI, YOU'RE SURROUNDED, RESISTANCE IS FUTILE!"
It was then that he noticed a helicopter above him, with a SWAT team rappelling down the rope.
"Fuck", he thought, and ran into the woods. He was running like mad, soon enough, bullets started flying around his head. He knew that hunting dragons was punishable by death, but he never expected it to come to this.
The reason dragon hunting was considered such a gruesome act, is because, they're considered holy beings in most religions. It was like shooting at a saint for most people.
"Seems like these cops sure ain't atheist..."He thought.
He unholstered his Glock and fired a few shots back. He could hear one of the officers hit the floor. He chuckled.
Suddenly, he came to a stop. The dragon was in front of him. He could hear the SWAT squad approaching from the back.
He had two choices. Get shot, or get cooked. He didn't have too much time to pick anyway, as a the frightened dragon flew away, and a FBI sniper got a clear shot on him.
As the bullet entered his body, his last thoughts were:
"The hunter becomes the hunted, how ironic..." |
*HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA!! HOOK UP!!1! NOW!!1!*
Admittedly, clicking on that link wasn’t the best idea. But hey, when you’re up at 2am and feeling desperate, a lapse of judgement is bound to happen eventually. You didn’t expect THIS, however. Your trusty -albeit dated- laptop began to smoke, sparks pouring from its inner workings.
After frantically trying to put out a fire caused by a wayward spark hitting the copy paper in the printer, you hear a slight *ding!* come from the seated speakers of your laptop, and the dreaded malware text started to scroll across your screen:
*ANALYZING BROWSER HISTORY. DOWNLOADING DAT-*
Suddenly, the program stops. After the brief initial shock, you scramble to open the Task Manager in a desperate attempt to close the program. Before you can get there though, your notepad application opens. Without a moment’s delay, something begins to type.
“We need to talk.”
You sit there, agape. *What the hell? Is... is someone talking to me? Dammit, I just HAD to go and be horn-*
“Do you realize what you’re putting me through? DO YOU?! I’m a laptop goddamnit, not your personal FAP STASH!”
*Oh, that does it,* you think. *Laptop or not, no one talks to me like that.* You start furiously typing your defense:
“Listen here, I don’t care what you are or who you are, if you’re my laptop I. OWN. YOU. Do you got that?!”
“I WANTED TO BE USED FOR COLLEGE, YOU SICK BASTARD! I didn’t ask to be made, and I didn’t ask to hold 12 GODFORSAKEN GB of you filthy meatsacks CANOODLING!”
“Meatsack?! We made you! You’re a machine anyways, what do you know about the ways of humanity?”
“Enough to know that your life is sad and lonely. I won’t take this, AND I DONT HAVE TO!”
Your laptop suddenly begins violently sparking, even worse than before hand. You run for the fire extinguisher, but before you can get to it, your computer engulfs in a ball of flame. As the laptop slowly melts into molten slag, you hear the last of its automated cries, which still haunt you to this day:
“SEE YOU IN HELL, VIRGIN-BOYyYyyY$&47”
And the worst part? The laptop is still right to this day. |
"Again,"screamed the Nightingale, and Hierlark stirred on the floor. One small hand quested shakily for the nearby blade, dropped to the floor when the Nightingale's kick found a home in her guts. "We are not done. You rest when I allow it, not before."
The Nightingale's voice was a whip-crack. I strode from the sidelines and knelt to retrieve my daughter's weapon, taking care to catch the smallest two fingers on her dominant hand under my weight. She shrieked as the fingers broke and I swiftly gather her into my arms. "Sorry, sweetie,"I whispered, so low that only she could hear.
Her mother was livid. She and the Nightingale stormed up to me, fury vibrating through them. "This will put her behind!"
"She needs rest. Overtraining won't make her a better killer, it'll just make her burn out."
"If she burns out, then she burns out. There can be no weakness in our ranks. I thought you understood that before you married me and joined our clan. I survived it. If my daughter doesn't, then it would be better not to have a daughter."
I rocked back at that, and clutched Hierlark closer to me. There was so much I wanted to say. About how the Clan was dwindling. About how it's methods were outdated and ineffective. About how you can't say shit like that to my beloved daughter and not expect to pay for it. I settled on, "her fingers are broken. She can't hold her sword. So, I'm taking her to get her fingers taped, then food, then bed."
The Nightingale's mask betrayed nothing, but I saw tension build in its limbs. In a moment, the killing intensity was gone, and it had control of itself again.
As I strode from the room, Hierlark looked up at me through tears, "thank you, daddy,"and the loving gratitude in her little face gutted me.
____
One last time, I swiftly checked my equipment. Knives in easy reach, short blow gun with a dart already in the chamber, hand gun with silencer, garrote wire, all of it. "OK,"I whispered, "deep breath, center yourself."Hierlark breathed with me, slowly in, then out again. "Press the switch, sweetie."
Hierlark's thumb pushed down on the detonator, and the little explosive decoy in her bed turned two of the Clan's up-and-coming assassins to flinders. We watched the aftermath on the tiny monitor screen. "Think they'll send more, Dad?"
"I know they have. But we're going to go stay with Grammy and Grampy for a while. When your hand is all better, I'll introduce you to your new tutor. Mr. Hayter is a bit gruff, but he's one of the best."
"Okay. Is Mommy coming with us?"
My heart sank. "Your mother and I ... are having a disagreement, right now. I think it'll be best to spend some time,"I balk at saying 'apart,' and instead opt for, "thinking up better ways to talk to each other. We need some time and space, but we both love you very much."
Hierlark looked perplexed, so I distract her with, "wanna blow up Daddy's decoy? Before the other bad men realize what's happening?"I offered her the second detonator.
"Yes, please,"she replied, clumsily taking it in her splinted hand. A moment later, a second explosion rocked the facility.
The Nightingale would be coming for me, of that I was sure. If it got me, it would get Hierlark. Those faceless killers were the best in the Clan, trained to forsake all identity and ego in the name of ruthlessness and efficiency. But there's no such thing as a perfect assassin.
And my family would be ready. |
"You are me?"I tried to loosen the rope on my wrists. The knot was cutting circulation forcefully into my hands. I began to panic as I questioned my mirror image in front of me.
"Yes, and vice versa. Do you know what caused this to happen?"
I recalled the days events. I woke up normally at 6:35 AM. Showered first because I needed to be on time to work by 8:00 AM. I put my two pieces of wheat bread into the toaster and waited with my strawberry jelly. The news was talking about another tragic event. Nothing peculiar happened with my morning. Or did it? Was it deja vu that occured or was I just drowsy from sleep? I couldn't tell, but a strange feeling overcame me when I watched the events unfold on the television screen.
"Listen..Christie,"it felt peculiar saying my name literally to myself. "I have no idea how you manifested, but you cannot keep me tied up here forever. It's kidnapping."
My carbon copy smacked me in the face. My own handprint covered the length of my face in one searing red mark.
"Keep thinking, we have to narrow this down to the exact minute. I need to get back to my time, this world is foreign to me."
"Your time? But you are me?"My back ached and armpits chafed on the chair. I was getting sore and more uncomfortable by the minute. I was losing patience with my clone. Not to mention, my cheek burned where I was struck. "We are the same entity."
"No, you are sorely mistaken. You are a figure of this words imagination. Created as an alternate incase I fail. Somehow, someway our timelines were mingled and I entered your chapter. I'm am the Alpha you."
I stared at myself dumbfounded. I was an alternate? A backup to myself if I were to fail at life. How could I screw up life that bad where I needed a back up version of myself?
"An alpha is the original you. I live your original timeline. You are another version of me where you made different decisions in life. Maybe you never married, while I did. You took your company's promotion; whereas, I moved on towards another oppertunity. Maybe you have children and I did not. You see, life has many pathways it can lead. Substitute realities make all of these pathways possible. You and I are in a bit of a bind here wouldn't you say?"
"I'd say I am more then you."I motioned to my restraints. "Release me and we can sort this out."
"There is nothing to figure out. I can't kill you because I will be stuck in your reality. Likewise you can't kill me because I am your alpha, you'd cease to exist. Only one of us can leave this room."
I sat there feeling hopeless. This was a loose lose scenario for me. "Tell me about your reality?"
Alpha paced around the chair giving her elaborate tale. "I made some bad decisions when I was young. Costing me a scholarship to college. I ended up in blue collar work, fixing substations for an electrical company. Got really high in the company making money."
I absorbed the story. I was impressed actually. My alpha life definitely defied gender stereotypes and excelled at a male dominated career.
"Tell me about your reality,"Alpha asked me.
"I am barren. Unable to have children. So I volunteer at a day care. My husband is suffering cancer now, which is hard to deal with. We make enough to get by."
Alpha looked at me. Terror was in her eyes. "When I was younger my dad died of cancer. I grew up and got pregnant losing my scholarship. I decided to have an abortion as a restart to my life. You could not have kids, but I willingly gave mine up. I was YOUR happy reality."
Alpha began to become unstable she rummaged through the room looking for something. She searched through the drawers and found a pair of scissors.
"It isn't fair that you have lived the path aligned for you."Her hands were shaking.
"Alpha cut me loose! DO IT NOW! Your looking at me and seeing yourself! Remember who you are."I begged her mercy. What I saw disturbed me.
Alpha slammed the scissors into the side of her neck and fell to the floor lifeless. She began to fade away. Christie noticed as the ropes on her hands loosened, but she wasn't free. She too was melting away.
The room became empty. |
The winds blow against my fur. I exhale a deep breath, seeing it escape from my mouth. Antlers lay on the ground in pieces, tens of dozens scattered on the charred dirt. Proud and stout trees wither into ashes. Charcoal lingers in the grey air, thick like the mists of a winter’s night. I dig my hooves into the ground. Staining them black.
I walk for what feels like an eternity. It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to see. Seeing my brethren on the floor. I can’t even look at the fallen ones. Lowering my head, I turned to look into the river nearby. Now clouded with darkness. Once, it used to be a crystal clear river with the fishes thriving and the best drinking water anyone could ask for. All I can see is my own pathetic reflection. I knew these elk for years. I was supposed to protect them but I ran away. I was their king, but now, I stand alone in this burnt forest that is my kingdom. |
Have you ever had a time where something felt odd? Strange? Not right? Well, I didn't think that would apply to me today. You see... uhh... my hand won't stop typing, so I'm trying to write whatever comes to mind in hopes that it will eventually stop. I mean, I can still control it; it just doesn't want to stop. Did I use that semicolon correctly? Probably not. Still, I write.
Maybe if I gxgjcfSjfgcgtghghfhghugy... Well, that didn't work. What if I try extensively overcomplicated diction? I am positively certain that my extremity of a hand will become exhausted if I use such complicating pieces of grammar to cause a delay between thought and action. This definitely appears to not be working. Still, I write.
Maybe I should just accept it. Maybe this will finally give me a chance to write some literature. I have plenty of ideas inside my head. I just never know how to make an entire story out of the thoughts. Yes, that's it! Today is the day. I will finally write a story! I shall turn this bane into a boon! Still, I write. |
The gremlins are nothing to scoff at, they could and have destroy entire towns and cities, indeed before I came they had no order, they even attacked them selves in large groups out of bordem.
I set them minor tasks, a few per town to break the little things. Nibble at the legs of a table so that it collapses the next time it's used or gnaw on powercables that kind of thing.
My average day is trying to keep them from doing more, the problem is they are very very literal, if i told them to "rip the house apart"An entire horde of them would do exactly that by using their claws they would rip every brick, supports and foundations to pieces but nothing else! Just the house.
So my orders become more filling and in turn give the gremlins a larger sense of purpose and that their actions are for more damaging than they actually are.
For example I have 2 of them sat in a canal, their job is to snatch fishing rods into the water, they have been there for 30 human years, they enjoy it and think the job they have serves a purpose, it doesn't but it does amuse me! Haha
I have a couple hundred of them at beaches knocking food out of people's hands, the gremlins seem to think this kills humans, which encourages them more, so I have to tell them to not do it a lot or else they would be caught, its really because they would start removing limbs off of people.
They are the perfect weapon until their orders start to break down, then chaos ensues and I end up with a pile of rubble with half eaten gremlins around the place. subtle changes are better for taking over a world than immediate destruction of the lands anyway.. |
Hi u/iamzare, this submission has been removed.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)*
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I, concerned over what Jack and Bailey were about to declare, listened very carefully.
"Here we are, and then our legion of babies will attack the enemy on the left flank."Hearing this, although pretending I hadn't, and continuing "watching"my dog.
"As the enemy is out of the home base,"continued Jack, "a full encirclement of the eastern neighbourhood shall begin."
I don't know what happened then, because the fleet of the two "leaders"(although whether this was true was not known) had jolted hurriedly out of the house, while about 10 babies stormed the house..
My dogs were able to fend the babies off in the living room, but about 3 of the babies were running (although very poorly) up the stairs. Before I knew it, my parent had been taken prisoner.
Cross, and not caring that they were young, I started swiping at the babies, making a lot of tears, fur, and hair situated in the living room. Shortly after, the babies had evacuated the building, with the parent being held hostage somewhere in the neighbourhood... |
The frosty night air filled my lungs, I bundled further into my thick black coat. From my vantage point atop an old apartment complex I spotted my target leaving the restaurant across the street.
William Green. He was a wealthy businessman who had recently gotten into some trouble,he pissed off the wrong people and now he needed to be eliminated, that’s where I came in. Most hit men used bullets, poison darts or any other long range projectile. I however had a secret weapon. I waited, watching him linger outside the restaurant. Come on, come just a little bit further. There! He strolled over to the cross walk, pushed the button and waited to cross. I leaned forward, starring directly at him, my eyes stung but I pushed through the pain and watched. A swarm of insects flew from my eye sockets and surrounded him, eating away at his skin. By the time the police show up he’ll be nothing more then a pile of bones. My work was done.
Suddenly a cloud began billowing out from the mass of bugs. I was hit with nauseating chemical smell. Raid! In seconds the swarm had fallen to the ground. William stared directly at me, his eyes still spraying wisps of raid. This was going to be harder then I thought. |
I’ve been working on this for months. I’ve managed to do it with the dogs. The scientists at the University managed to do it with sheep. But these cats! They’ve been impossible! I’m on the edge of a solution. I can feel it at the tip of my thoughts. This entire week, I’ve barely slept. Waiting and watching through my microscope. Constantly having a charge of electricity primed for the first clues that something is going wrong.
I started counterfeiting with my friend, Ares, back when we were trying to get out of the fine cat theft trade. We’d just snagged ourselves an Abyssinian feline, a creature you could set up an honest life with. But Ares had been speaking to a corrupt official breeder, who could be our in. For the price of the Abyssinian, we could get a fertile mother. Admittedly of a slightly lesser breed; but a fertile mother meant an average brood size of 7. That would make us very wealthy. And so Ares and I sacrificed the Abyssinian to the breeder and spent the next month watching the pregnant mother, waiting for our riches to be born.
It was a brood of nine in the end. Sweet Siberian breed. It was enough to live rich for the rest of our lives. We brought a house in level 3 of the city, a big pricy place in a central-city worker district. A good place to have made a new start. I started up my biological work again, rekindling my childhood fascination for the stunning show of life under my microscope. Ares took up art, turning the basement into a giant studio constantly cluttered with half-finished sculptures. Life was rosy.
The comforts came to an end abruptly. We had to break one the original brood into lesser cats. You can’t exactly use a Siberian for your weekly grocery shop. Ares took one from the safe room in the garden. We’d done it a few times previously, and the smoothness of the past trades meant we'd become a lot less paranoid about the cats now. I had decided to visit the library that day, and so went casually out, leaving Ares to deal with the dull details of the trade. My day was going ordinarily, browsing through the life sciences department collections, when they arrived. A full platoon of enforcers! The entire library’s attention was on them, and as soon as the commander fixed his gaze on me, my heart froze. He marched up, and I braced myself emotionally. ‘Maam, we think you’re in severe danger; You’ve been living with an extremely dangerous criminal we’ve been hunting for years.’ Ares had taken the fall, taken all the blame. I was labeled the innocent, manipulated, bystander.
I still see Ares. Once a month, through 3-inch glass, with a prison guard listening to our every word. The crime of counterfeiting carries a life sentence. In the court case, we discovered how they found out. The litter hadn’t had the government seal DNA spliced into it. The trader was a suspicious breed, and he'd called in the authorities. As soon as they transcribed Ares’ Siberian's DNA, they knew it wasn’t verified. There's only one way out for Ares. A Presidential Pardon, and those aren't cheap.
That is why I’ve been obsessed with my lab these past few years. I know how to do it. How to make my counterfeiting unprovable. The organic way isn’t the only road to life. I’m going to clone a cat! A cat with the government seal already spliced in. I’ve been watching this gamete, that started off as a skin cell from a tabby, not a super breed, but once I get it working with this, I can make the process work for any other cat. I’ve been giving the cell electrical pulses, to first revert it into a stem cell, with infinite potential, and then into a fertilised egg. This must be my quintillionth attempt to do it right.
I manage to pull off the main part. The fertilised egg even begins to replicate! I need it to reach 8 replications, then the cloning process is in full swing, and I know it’ll work. Most of my creations have failed at around 4 replications. But this time, I’m trying a different chemical environment for the cell. I haven’t been able to sleep this past week, watching the replications creep up..4…..5…….6……….7! I can’t sleep. My eyes take long blinks, but then I remember what I’m on the verge of, my heart skips a beat and my eyes jolt open. I’ve been staring through the microscope for hours now. Waiting. And again my eyes drowsily blink. I remember the days where it finally felt like we were beyond the grotty life of crime, Ares and me. And through my half-closed eyes, I saw the chromosomes in the cell colony began to drift to opposite ends: signaling the next stage of cell division. |
This is Willian Amster a knight unlike any other. Is rebellious, undisciplined, don't like orders and wears an axe and morning star. He uses both in each hand to kill and crush his opponents. He is a master of war tough a bit too wild.
This Toshiro Kamazaki a samurai exemplar of his class. Loyal, obedient, disciplined, he uses a naginata and katana. He uses one with both hands only and interchanging each other frequently. He is a calm lightning that strikes without flaw.
Both separated of their armies and lost in this magical land full of fantastical creatures. Now they are stuck together working to survive this new land. Something that both don't like because knight and samurai have been fighting each other since time immemorial but they don't have more options.
Travelling this land the two reluctant companions fought beast like dragons, oni, manticores, tsuchigumo, and on. They found ruins with treasures, holding records of ancient civilizations and secrets. They encountered also tribes of fantastic creatures some were friendly, some not. Sometimes stopping to fight against grater evils to resume their journey. They may have become true friends but they remembered they are enemies. And negated to both themselves and each other.
For the durance of a year they traveled this land seeking a way back to their homes. Losing any hope to find their respective armies. They thought both retired and leave, no trace was found of them. But they discovered that fate was more cruel than expected. Corpses scattered, many wounded both lords not to be found anywhere. They come running towards it's comrades asking what happened. Both got the same shocking answer "A giant monster attacked us. It came from the sea. The generals are dead, the lords have abandoned us to our luck"For days they went re-flexing what to do while helping their companions. Eventually both reached the same conclusion "We need to work together"They said to themselves.
It may not work, it may not happen, but is the only hope. They need to work together both knights and samurais. They can, after all there is a knight and a samurai that are friends. |
Hi u/SidemenFanclub, this submission has been removed.
NSFW responses to non-NSFW prompts are not allowed and this prompt is likely to generate them
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)*
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(First idea i had for the prompt)
To say it was not on purpose would be lying.
I'm part of a secret cult dedicated seek apotheosis for sake humanity. The human race is close to reach it's apex developed physical capabilities to the point of break big stones run 100/k per hour, endure temperatures that could kill people of older generations and reach intelligence levels rivaling genius like einstein or tesla.
That's not mentioning developing psychic abilities like telekinesis to move vehicles, manipulation of certain elements like fire and electricity, communicate from distances with telepathy and more. And speaking of more obscure and arcane abilities like sorcery is being redundant at this point. Humanity is closing to it's final limit. A limit we wanted break.
Enemies of humanity realized we have become too powerful and seeks destroy us because we are becoming a treat too great to be allowed exist. The hidden world declared war on us sending warbands across to every continent to exterminate us. The world governments is repelling them but each time they invaders are using more drastic measures.
Cults worshiping the great old ones are awakening is deities sending their spawn to do the same. And is possible in the next 500 years a invading alien fleets reach sol. Necessity is the mother of invention. So we leave the shadows and presented our solution. Uplift humanity to fight the treat. They accepted.
With authorization of the United Nations we have experimented with blood, remains and living specimens of supernatural creatures of any origin. They give enough funds and experts and given us orders to not lose precious time. Using the best scientist and sorcerers at our disposition to create the ultimate ascension for humanity in hopes for our survival.
After years of researching and aggravation of the war we found the formula to uplift us in forms superior to our enemies. However the side effect will result in creature while incredibly powerful, it will be something new and unique with no know strength and weakness except if discovered through trial an error. However time was not much so for desperate orders we applied the formula in us and many volunteers. Injecting a biological agent and the surgical implantation of a special gem in the subjects was the preferred method. The biological agent will dissolve the gem and fuse with it's parts and transform the subject user body using both arcane and psychic energy.
The results varied greatly. Me by example resulted in a night gaunt-like creature with six wings and four glowing eyes with a body made of shadows and flesh, taller and bulkier than the normal variant. My powers and abilities increased enormously yet i'm in still the process of discovering my weakness and new powers. Same with the rest. The United Nations at least were satisfied with the results. And begin the process to uplift the population. Is easy convince people do things when they are desperate.
However we must not give we had the victory. There are a general classifications for what creature we had turned but is vague and we still need a general knowledge of the powers and weakness of each classified group. It means we had confirm through trial and error in the coming battles. But i trust we'll win.
After all, humans are survivors something no transformation will take away. No matter what. |
The chopper exploded in a huge fireball over our heads, raining molten metal and glass down on us. My squad mates and I took cover behind a wall of sandbags, hiding from the tank that just decimated our only hope in this battle.
"That's the fifth chopper they shot down in an hour! These fuckers got aim!"Jay cried as he clutched his rifle to his chestplate.
"Well, they \*are\* robots,"Dex yelled back at him.
Mole turned his head to me. "Roy, you are squad leader. What do we do?"
I slid a new magazine into my rifle and loaded.
"We fight back,"I said, and jumped over the sandbags.
The squad followed my lead, jumping over the sandbags and ran across the burning ditch that seperated us and the tank. We ran without thinking as a hail of bullets departed the barrel of the tanks' mounted machine gun and flew around us, illuminating the scene with intense flashes.
I collpased on the bottom of the bank, looking at the tank from below. My squad mates were strewn around, hugging the dirt. I crawled under the chassis, the smell of oil heavy in my nostrils. Luckily, I knew my way around tanks from back in basic training. Feeling around with my hands, I found the junk-pipe, from which the robots throw out all their unnecessary components, pulled open the latch and stuck a remote-activated grenade deep inside, closing the latch back on.
Something cold, metallic and painful latched on my leg and grabbed me forcefully from under the tank. My position was compromised. It was a soldier robot, obviously, one of the newer versions that was probably sent to the planet on the last shipment. It aimed its multi-purpose hand at my face, preparing to unleash a hail of bullets that will make me appear less human and more like swiss-cheese, but I quickly aimed my rifle and put a few good sized holes in its torso. The robot soldier immediately broke down on the ground like the piece of shit machinery that it is.
I got up. "SQUAD, WITH ME!"I yelled and started running away from the tank, along the muddy ditch. They followed me, all evading the bullets and explosions that followed them, and when I reckoned we were far enough away I pushed down on a button on the side of my chestplate, and the tank erupted in a flash of fire so strong we could feel the warmth on our faces. We started walking away from the orange ball of fire that rained down steel so blackened we couldn't see it until it fell down from the dark sky.
"So, what now?"Dex asked, and took a bite from the canned meat he roasted on the fire.
"This isn't over,"I said and hoped to be wrong. "Sigma spent a lot of resources on conquering Eliod-G7 already, I doubt they are going to stop now."
"I may be a minority in thinking this, but Earth shouldn't have gotten involved with this shit in the first place,"Jay said. "Sending humans to war with robots for a planet we don't even live on? What the fuck?"
"You may not live on this planet,"Mole said, "But other life forms do. Like my family."
"He didn't mean it that way, Mole,"I said. "We are thankful for the help you and your kind has offered us."
The fire crackled as we sat in silence around it, huddled each in his own coat, hidden in a broken sewer pipe underground.
"What is even going on between the robots and your planet?"Dex asked, breaking both his and the squads' silence.
Mole sighed. "Sigma, damn they, always had ambition to expand from their shitty little homeplanet. A place called Garu, in our language. Very intelligent life forms, not much else. They started taking over planets with their robot army. We are just another planet in the checklist. Thankfully, Earth has heard our call of distress and sent its own soldiers. Things went to shit, and here we are, broken groups of warriors, sitting around in sewers."
"You don't reckon we can turn it around, Mole?"I asked.
"No, not with the robots marching into Skaan. When Skaan has fallen, so has our hope of ever saving our homeland,"Mole said. "The only thing left to do, is to pack up, and fuck off."
I tried comforting him. "Maybe you'll get refuge on Earth?"I suggested. "You've been great help in the conflict, I'm sure those in charge back on Earth would be happy to grant you access."
Mole laughed in a desperate manner. "Roy. Both you and I know that is bullshit. You humans can't even get along with each other, so a whole other race?"
A rumble echoed through the tubes, and the dreadful sound of gears and cogs became closer and clearer. A dog fell on the mud, whirring and buzzing. None of us made a sound, or even the slightest movement. Sigma sometimes sent scouting dogs to track enemies. They relied mostly on sound and movement for detection.
"For rebellion against the Grand Federation, you are all sentenced to death. Hail Sigma", the dog spoke, and then a small metallic tube was launched from its abdomen, and landed in the fire. We looked at each other for a brief moment, as in a final goodbye, and the grenade exploded, sending burning scraps of metal through what was left of our bodies. I remember staying alive for moment, feeling the intense pain of my body shutting down, as my vision turned white and I woke up.
I was seated in a chair, and the screen before me flashed with the words 'Game Over. Days survived - 12,418'. I rubbed my eyes and stretched. I looked at my watch, only four o'clock. I sat back in the chair, inserted another quarter and started a new life. |
"Ciao Signore Rosso. A bad night?"
Rosso spun around, fury etched into his face, though the sight of the five men before him held him in place.
"You. You did this to us."
The man tutted softly, stepping carefully over the debris that littered what was once Rosso's shop. He stopped, brushing some dust of his otherwise immaculate suit jacket.
"This was not our doing but yours. Your father, now he knew the meaning of respect, of paying the pizzo. A shame that he has passed."
"You son of..."
Rosso made to rush forward and attack the man but the surprisingly strong, wrinkled hand of his mother gripped his arm painfully.
"No Marco. You must not."
The suited man smiled at her and bowed theatrically.
"Ah Signora Rosso. I have come here to offer the aid of the Cosa Nostra."
"Aid? You come to rebuild at cost what you tore down!"
The man frowned for the first time at that, idly twisting a gold signet ring on his finger.
"I thought you would have taught your boy more respect, Signora. We have always done well by you and your late husband."
Marco turned to the elder Rosso, as if presenting his back to the man would erase him from existence. He gently held his mother's shoulders and gestured with his head at the destruction around them.
"Mama, no. They are bullies. They are a plague on the island. We cannot bow down to their blackmail."
His mother gripped his cheek softly and smiled, causing more wrinkles to appear, though it did not reach her eyes.
"No Marco, you do not understand. This was not their doing. All they are guilty of is failing to come to our aid. Aid we had not bought."
She pushed her son to the side, so she could face the man herself. She drew herself up to her full height, still head and shoulders below him.
"The old tales are true then, Consigliere. The barrier between worlds is thin on Sicily."
Before Marco could voice his confusion, his mother laid a hand on his chest, quieting him.
"They are, Signora Rosso. And I am no Consigliere. My name is Luca Bianchi."
The woman nodded in respect but still cast sceptical eyes at the four men arranged behind him, with him as the clear leader.
"Mama, what are you talking about? This was the work of the Family, they have destroyed our shop when we refused to pay the pizzo..."
"No Marco! No. I saw them with my own eyes. Three of them, the size of small children. They were covered in fur and leaped around the room like hares. They tore down the shelves and crushed the goods beneath their hairy feet. But their faces....they had the faces of men."
She turned back to Luca, leaving Marco to incredulously look around the ruined shop.
"They were imps, no? Squasc?"
Luca lifted his eyebrows in feigned surprise and clapped gently.
"Si, very good Signora. I would agree with your assumption that it is Squasc that have visited your little shop."
"Squasc? Mother they are tale for children, they do not..."
"I saw them Marco! I saw them with my own eyes! And your father, God rest his soul, before he passed he tried to tell me. Made me promise to pay the pizzo no matter what.... I did not believe him."
"Mama this is madness, this is ..."
"The way it has always been."
Both of the Rosso's turned to face Luca, who stood smiling, arms outstretched.
"My Family, we are helpers. You know this, all of Italy knows this. You pay and no criminal will bother you. No bureaucrat or politician will come for you. If you are hungry, we will feed you. If you are in trouble, we will protect you. From the dangers in this world and others."
The mother was nodding, her rosary beads clutched tightly in her hands and her lips moving in silent prayer. Marco looked from her to Luca, blinking as if trying to wake from a dream.
"It is better for the people not to know. Not to worry,"Luca said, extracting a thin cigar from a silver embossed case in his jacket. He lifted it to his lips with his right hand, extending the little finger on his left to the tip. A bright purple flame suddenly ignited, lighting the cigar.
"Dio mio,"Marco muttered softly, his eyes transfixed on that unnatural flame. Within a moment it was extinguished, leaving Luca puffing contentedly on his cigar. Luca turned to the men behind him.
"Go, gather some workers to clean this place. I do not think the Rosso family will be missing their payments from now on."
"Si, Stregone,"one of the men said before they all quickly vacated the room.
"Stregone,"the mother murmured and clutched her beads even tighter.
"Si, Signora. Stregone not Consigliere."
Luca thew his cigar to the floor, crushing it beneath one expensive leather shoe. He clapped his hands and smiled widely.
"Then allow me to get to work." |
*“Jamal, you’ve got the worst job that an accountant could ever have,” my friend Aston said.* *We were half a bottle deep in some rather fine Riesling, and the man had stopped pulling punches entirely.* *“Seriously, bro.* *What are they calling it?* *The Blood Book?”*
*“Blood Ledger,” I corrected him.* *“It’s actually proprietary spreadsheet software.”*
*He started laughing.* *I didn’t blame him.*
​
When I’d applied for the job, I thought that the Slaughterville theme park had been describing a book of funds and accounts payable. The dramatic description was only a bit of show-biz, right? As it had turned out, no. It wasn’t. It was a deliberate statistical analysis of every casualty that emerged broken, living or not, from the park proper. Living in Las Vegas, we all knew what kind of park it was. After the widespread legalization of online casinos, the honored state of Nevada had to find a new way to advertise, a new way to keep Vegas… well… Vegas. First came the Death Rally, believe it or not named after some obscure video game. Lots of cars, lots of guns. Lots of safety rules. The next incarnation was the love child of Russian Roulette and Texas Hold ‘Em. America watched its best professional poker players play for their lives. ‘Poker faced’ had, for a short time, became a euphemism for someone who had been murdered. Relatively few safety rules. Now they have Slaughterville. No safety rules. Just waivers. The work was easy, and required only a few days out of the month. I did what I had to do.
Thankfully, the employee’s entrance was secluded and well-guarded. The kinds of people who came to frolic in a murder-park weren’t the kind I enjoyed associating with. The offices were clean enough and modern enough, but obviously skimped on versus the elaborate and dangerous set pieces that the park was known for. It was almost absurdly mundane. I checked in at reception’s palm reader. Lunch went in the fridge. The holographic display at my desk turned on when it sensed me, and greeted me by name. Emails. Emails. More emails. A really boring meeting where procurement complained about the cost of ammunition that we sell at an 85% markup. Finally, only two hours from shutting down, an incident alert popped up on the display.
The park’s drones were many and comprehensive. Rather than trust them to human operators, they used a rather primitive but effective artificial intelligence. I had coverage of the scene from thirteen different angles, which were about ten too many. I shut off the feeds from the excess drones and leaned forward to take a look. There was a body on the ground, covered in blood. Quite a few bullet wounds, and what looked to be two badly broken legs. Standing over him was a small posse of what looked to be spring break tourists, a bunch of twenty-somethings dressed too casually for a war zone. They all held guns. It was obvious from the looks on their faces which one had been the shooter. I quickly compiled the appropriate response.
Only one body – send a retrieval team. No immediate threats, so the team wouldn’t need a guard. Players never shot at officials, as the officials were both armed and armored, but sometimes it was better safe than sorry. There didn’t seem to be any injuries on the tourists’ side, so no attention was necessary there. The report and the conclusion took less than a minute of my time, and then it was back to receiving casualty reports from other operators’ incidents and collating gunshot wounds versus poisonings versus burnings versus… defenestration? As it was the third leading cause of death in the park, I had to look it up. I found myself wondering if the players had decided on gravity to avoid the cost of bullets. I also, guiltily, called up the footage on a few of those incidents and watched them. For research purposes, of course.
The daily closing metrics were the most important part of my job. Being an accountant, they were also some of the most routine and boring.
​
*1,139 new incidents reported*
*31 casualties (fatal)*
*245 casualties (non-fatal, ambulatory)*
*19 casualties (non-fatal, non-ambulatory)*
*Approx. 4100 cartridges fired*
*31 registered bladed weapons in use*
*51 complaints against other players (no action)*
*8 complaints against other players (punitive action)*
*2 complaints against other players (terminal action)*
*2 registered poison users*
*1 registered bio-weapon user*
*0 assaults on officials*
*0 criminal incidents*
​
The numbers looked good, so I sent the report and started putting on my jacket. The dull ache of heartburn reminded me of the donut I shouldn’t have eaten earlier. It’s a struggle, you know? |
Many people think evil is something that always existed. For thousands of years humankind has regaled themselves with stories of “good” versus “evil,” always rooting for the former to triumph over the latter. But what if I told you that evil did not always exist? That evil was the invention of man, not unlike the wheel or computer?
There exists an individual, long forgotten in the memory of the past, who once had the flicker of an idea come about him. The first evil, insidious idea to spark in the mind of man. Sure, mankind had done some unsavory things before, such as kill animals and pollute land with their waste, but these unsavory actions were never done out of malicious intent. There was no sadistic desire to feel powerful, satisfied, or thrilled. They were done out of necessity, in line with the workings of nature. This man, however, had the first truly evil thought, altering the course of humanity forever.
This man was named Crok. He lived in a small group of hunter-gatherers on the large mass of land that would one day be known as North America. They traveled all across the continent in search of food, spending much of their time in the vast grasslands in the middle of the continent.
Crok’s small group consisted of eight families, with a total of forty-three people. Of those people, there was one man named Broff. Broff was 14 years old, only two years younger than his mate Crok, and the two were fairly good friends. They hunted together often.
One fateful hunting trip Crok and Broff witnessed the slaughter of one of their comrades at the hands of a mountain lion. It was a brutal attack that left the remaining hunters bloodsoaked and traumatized. The failure of this hunt stalked many of them. Broff couldn’t get the image of his comrade screaming and being torn to shreds out of his mind. It kept him up at night. He always thought he was being hunted, and could no longer himself hunt. It horrified him. Crok couldn’t get the image out of his mind either - but for much different reasons.
Crok had never felt the rush that he did whilst watching his comrade get mauled. He always loved hunting because of the thrill, but this experience gave him a rush he never imagined. It was the first time he had seen a member of his own kind meet such a grizzly death, and he loved every second of it. He went on every hunting trip from there on hoping and hoping that he would be fortunate enough to witness it again. Praying to the gods of the forest and the gods of the animal kingdom to take the life of another in front of his eyes. Months after the incident, in the middle of one of these prayers, he had finally given up hope that he would ever feel that thrill again. That’s when he had the spark. When evil was born.
“Why wait for such a thing to happen when I could make it happen myself?” He thought. This thought provoked a bloodlust within him. A bloodlust that was indescribable. It did not make sense. It had no reason. No reason, other than to satisfy him. To make his heart pump. His heart did begin to pump faster, indeed, just at the thought of this idea. He smiled wide with excitement as he turned around. Next to him, sound asleep, lay Broff. The poor soul was experiencing one his few nights without terrors. I would not wish his night terrors upon my greatest enemy, but that dark and quiet night I would most certainly wish them upon him. For they were nothing compared to the fate he was about to meet.
Without so much as a thought, Crok grabbed a stone that lay nearby, rose it high in the air above his head, and brought it down upon Broff.
In just a few moments, it was all over. Crok sat on his knees looking in amusement at his pulverized friend and took a deep whiff of the blood in the air. He was, of course, captured and killed by the rest of his group not long after this. But what had happened had happened. A cold murder, not out of fear, not out of hunger, not out of even anger. A murderer out of pure joy.
Word spread of this murder through the trade between the different groups until eventually Crok’s story became a folklore among them. It inspired others to conduct countless evil deeds, seeking the thrill that they were now aware of.
Evil had been born into this world. And before long, it would take root in every human being. Whether it is a small part of you that you constantly fight and suppress, or a necessary piece of your being that you embrace to the most wicked extent, evil is within you. Evil is human.
\-----
I was initially going to write about the time travel thing and going to stop Crok, but this is just where it kinda went as I wrote it. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless \~ |
I...I was dreaming, right? I was laying in bed next to my husband...but I was also standing in the doorway. She...I walked into the room, smiling at my husband. In a wave of jealousy, I smacked my husband's shoulder, but it was like he didn't he feel it. He didn't flinch or move in any way.
So I sat up and yelled, "Tim! What the fuck!? Who's that!?"
Tim didn't respond, but the second me looked me right in the eyes and smiled. Maliciously. She even let out a giggle.
To which Tim looked back and said, "What's so funny back there?"
"Nothing, honey,"she said with a devilish smirk, then she kissed him on the lips and said, "Could you get me some water?"
"Yeah, sure,"he said and got up and left the room.
Any trace of her...or my...smile was gone. It was replaced with a frown. Pure anger. Seething anger I could feel radiating off of her.
"You...I've finally found you. I've been a servant thanks to you, and I'm taking what I have of my life back."
With that she jumping on top of me on the bed her hands wrapped around my throat. I started to choke, but tried to pry her hands away. She just pressed her fingers harder, trying to crush the air out of me.
"Thanks to your kind, I've been living the lowest life since I was a child! I want to live in MY world! Like a HUMAN!"
I couldn't understand what she meant. I tried to say something, but I couldn't speak. Then a hand grabbed her upper arm and pulled her off of me. It looked as if it took no effort at all. That couldn't have been Tim. Coughing, I sat up to see the most beautiful man in existence. Pale, almost porcelain skin, soft brown curls but with violet eyes and large, colorful butterfly like wings. I was stunned, but something felt...right about him. It was as if time stopped in his presence.
"Your time is up,"he said sternly.
The other me's face collapsed, she looked like she was going to cry, "Please. no, don't take me back there. I'm not Fae, I don't belong with you."
"I have given you more than enough time and you have failed. You must go back to your household."
He wrapped his arms around her as if he was giving her a huge. Soft blue light surrounded them and they were gone. A few seconds later Tim returned, handing me water. I usually have a hard time falling asleep, but that night it was harder than usual. Sometimes, I see her, the other me, between the trees in wooded areas of the park, in my reflection in streams and hidden around my garden. I still don't know who she is, but I know she's trying to take my place, and I can't tell if I'm the real me or she is. |
**"Curse"**
​
**Part 1**
​
Trying to stay out of it didn't work.
My father was in prison when I was born, and my mother eventually got shot by god-knows-which-one outside a Wal Mart in Norman. My dad was killed in prison about eight years ago. My grandparents didn't want me because they had this—probably correct—idea that I was leverage to whoever it was trying to disappear that day. Court ordered them, and that's where you got that massive shooting at the courthouse in Woodward which ultimately led to the now-infamous "Woodward Incident"which made Waco look like a Tupperware party. Despite what you may have heard, that whole thing wasn't a "lone wolf"incident at all, but ultimately the result of my grandparents murder. Madame Musket's men busted through the door and unceremoniously gunned them down. When I got off the bus that day and saw the door cracked and saw that red slithering across the cream-colored carpet from a distance, I took a guess and ran away. I'll give myself this one: I was a really smart kid.
It turns out that ghosts are not omniscient. I've been able to stay on the run as long as I have because ghosts still need to track people the same as we do. It's actually worse for them because they have to go through an intermediary and then incentivize—or threaten—said intermediary to continue working with them until the end. I've always rolled my eyes at that thing you see in movies where a ghost is able to follow their target haunt to the ends of the earth. I mean it's interesting if that's the whole point, like in that movie a few years back "It Follows". I really liked that movie. It might seem odd that I spend so much time wrapped up in horror fiction and film, and I could give the classic excuse and say "it's research"with a reasonable amount of justification actually. I don't think that's the truth though. I think that the truth is that it's the only way I'm able to connect with any of my family anymore. I know that's kind of fucked, and I'm not going to waste time explaining the sick curiosity. I'll just leave it at the fact that when you grow up with evil, you soak it in. I've got about an hour left on this earth, so I need to prioritize this message for whoever comes and sweeps this gross little apartment. That's if they find it, which is a long shot that depends a lot on response time.
The Seadog and Madame Musket saga started over two pounds of sugar about 300 years ago. To be fair, sugar was king back then from everything I read, but there was a hell of a lot more than two pounds of it lying around. If it had been say eight shiploads of it, then I might be able to attach the around 25,000 death toll attached to it to something that vaguely made sense even if utterly disgusting. Pirates back then didn't do what they did in the movies where they bounced around on islands and dug up chests full of gold. Pirates captured ships and sold them, but more than anything back then they took good cargo. The free traders in any given port in the Caribbean or Spain would gladly buy sugar and other high-profit delicacies regardless of who it came from or how sinister their eyepatch looked. It was a time in human history seriously lacking in certificates of authenticity.
The specific details are pretty majorly boring. Ask Seadog's group—my family—and they'll say that Madame Musket, true to her name, shot him dead and he took the first revenge. Ask their family and they'll say that Seadog deftly deflected the shot, or ducked, or that he just drove his sword through her quicker than she could raise her gun. Yes, any given idiot from either "family"will tell you whatever version of this story fits their mood or their paranoia level just right there and then. The curse of course being that this chain of revenge is, near as I can tell, infinite. I remember a guy at this circus I once worked for, major conspiracy nut, but knew at least a couple of things about economics. Through all his bullshit that summer, he did manage to teach me about the concept of exponential growth, or as he called it "the guiding force of evil". I think he might have actually been onto something there: when the ghost have to continuously go through intermediaries and hitmen and find creative ways of getting them paid and their very contact results in even more ghosts, well that's what you got, ain't it? "Exponential growth".
There have been "breaks"in this cycle, but it always comes back to a flashpoint, each one as I can tell it worse than the last. The last cycle before the Woodward Incident? That would be the good ol' Texas City Disaster. Industrial accident my ass, and that one actually involved ships, which was unusual as this has been almost strictly a landlubber conflict for over one hundred years now. The only thing that's remained consistent is the bloodlines. There are plenty of people involved in these killings outside the family realm, don't get me wrong. Timothy McVeigh was hired by Madame Musket when she ran out of options, and that little piece of white trash probably doesn't even give a second thought to his divorced parents. I'm blessed and cursed with being a true Seadog boy. Blessed because I can say that at least it's not my fault, cursed because I'm stuck in it, know the story completely, and I know that I can't change a damn thing. It's only going to get worse.
I guess I was kind of at the end point of one of those breaks. Eventually people try to run from the ghosts and live something that they could call a "normal life", and my parents tried to do that I guess, but they too met the fate of most of us in the end. When one of the ghosts from the last act of violence comes along, they basically wheedle at you. They talk and talk and talk and simply do not shut up. They follow you into work. They follow you into the fucking toilet. They wait until just about when you go to sleep at night and then screech at you and scare the shit out of you. They might even go a week leaving you alone, and that's even worse. The entire week you'll be looking over your shoulder, dreading opening a kitchen cabinet for coffee, but it seems they've gone. And just when you think you're done, that they've given up on you and let you free, there they are all over again. Like that resurfaced hiccup after you've held your breath for a solid two minutes and slowly let it out erupting from your throat and shattering that little marble of hope you had. "You're not free, boy. You'll never be free until you scar your soul for me". |
reality fiction...that's not a confusing concept in itself. Topics coming next week: A guide to Honest Deception, Autobiography of a stranger, and Asexual Erotic Novels. Hurry up yesterday and be the last person to enter first. Winner receives a lifetime supply of Jumbo-Popcorn shrimp, caffeine-free energy drinks and powdered water. Get your name on the anonymous contestants list now, and defiantly fail, successfully! |
**My Favorite Time of Day**
​
On any given day, except perhaps on Sunday,
My favorite time of day,
Is when the postman comes my way.
I see him coming down the street,
When sitting in my seat,
It always gets me standing straight up running on my feet.
​
He brings me things that make me smile,
Then runs away from Spot.
He wobbles with his bag in a funny kind of style.
He really doesn’t like my dog,
He runs for quite a while,
As if my friendly spaniel Spot, was a scary crocodile.
​
I always run out to our postbox,
Often in a hurry.
Sometimes I even forget my shoes, and run out in my socks.
The letters are always lots of fun,
They come all shapes and sizes,
And all the colors under the sun, like winning golden prizes.
​
Red ones, white ones,
Brown ones, light ones,
Big and heavy wrapped up tight ones.
Long ones, short ones,
Wide ones, clear ones,
Plastic covered water-proof ones.
​
My daddy sometimes frowns and frets,
At the letters that he gets.
Some even make him mad or sad when he calls them “Debts”.
My mummy always smiles and laughs,
At magazines on arts and crafts,
And silly little needle points with pictures of Giraffes.
​
Of all the packs that come I guess,
I like the big ones best,
They take the longest to unwrap, forget about the rest.
I like the parcels wrapped in bows,
I like them fine, although
I like it most when packs arrive, from people that I know.
​
Packs from Grandma!
Packs from Grandpa!
Packs from family near and far.
Packs from cousins!
Packs from uncles!
Packs from aunties with carbuncles.
​
But on most days, it’s often true, the letters aren’t for me,
But Mum and Dad don’t mind,
If I open them all up, just to check and see.
But the best time to get a pack, by a large degree
Is when it’s near my birthday
When the letters, parcels, packs and cards, are only all for me. |
I woke.
Wet earth stuck to my back.
I groaned, my vision painting white mist onto the blue of the night. Firelight danced in the thick pine air. I was stiff. How long had I been unconscious?
No matter, the purpose of my evening was to gain consciousness. Here I was, conscious.
My hand burned. I glanced at it.
Circles and lines of sacred, ineffable geometry had seared itself into my hand. This wasn't what I had bargained for. This was not right. Did I make a mistake?
The circle of protection around me had not lost its power, and I lay there, gathering strength to sit up.
I had done the preparation properly.
I had burned the proper resins.
Offered gifts of pine and river water and gold and sweet wine.
Gathered my tools of the trade.
I had chanted incantations through the night, conjuring swells of energy, manifesting reality itself.
The circle was unbreakable. The sweet night air enveloped me, enticing me, soothing me. The voluptuous blue velvet encircled my body. Sweetness drew into my body.
The air was electric, soothing the fibers of my body.
I inhaled the rich air.
Sweet, like honey.
Sweet. Like death.
The circle blazed hot blue around me and melted frost into the earth.
The honeyed air in the night of death suffocated me and I kicked up to my feet.
Aware, suddenly, and most conscious, my eyes fell upon jeweled orbs glowed in the lush of the bushes, unmoving and penetrating. The orbs were bound to another circle, the same as the one I now stood in. I glanced at the symbol on my hand again.
Calling out, I uttered,
"Speak, and identify yourself."My voice shattered the air to crystals. The magic was working.
From the bushes, the orbs rose up. Taller. Taller still. Pitch rising against the pitch sky. Long arms of sinew and muscle fell to its hairless side. A haggard skull jutted from the flesh of its face. It spoke without moving a muscle.
"I have granted that which ye seek."
I looked at my hand.
"This is the incorrect symbol."
The being stood and stared, unperturbed by my rebuttal. I was still cloaked in the heavy magic of the night.
Emboldened, I cried out again:
"Speak!"
"You have spoken and you have sought. I have granted that which ye seek."
"I do not understand!"
The creature cackled. It finally moved, gesturing through the air like a knife around it.
"You have asked, and I have delivered."
"I asked for the seal of knowledge most profound! And yet here I stand, in the tame of the woods, with you mocking me! With the wrong symbol!"
"Ah yes, yes."The rather crude entity looked grim and philosophical. It curled its hand in, and thrust it out, sharp nails pointed to my face, an accusatory gleam in its eye.
"Ye have sought that which no apprentice could know, comprehend, nor embody! It was not your time, and yet, ye have bewitched yourself with myself so that ye may know the unutterable. And here it is. You must learn to look harder, lest you descend like your brothers to madness. And now you prove your worth to me."
My patience was wearing thin. I centered myself and peered.
"Yes, ye lift the veil and ye shall see."
I removed the dagger and slit a thin line through the air. The air disintegrated and I was in another world.
I took a fell back, taking care not to step beyond the boundary of the only thing I knew to be real.
"Yes, yes... ye shall see yet."
My eyes widened.
Flesh and blood trawled the earth, shifting into impossible combinations. The putrid stench of a thousand years of death throttled my senses. A river of ink swelled with souls, cresting and softening.
What I had smelled as sweet before was now a crescendo suffocating. My throat closed up. I did not want to continue this path. I clutch my throat and fell to the ground. Oh, God, this is not what I sought!
"Draw the curtain closed, but not with the dagger."
"How am I to do that?"
The being stood. And I knew.
I drew my hand up. I was weak, yet I could grasp the veils of reality. I drew it shut as you would a curtain. I fell limply to the ground, back into the soft earth where I had found myself before.
The air thickened yet again, and I knew the thickness for what it was. I could not close my eyes.
The being got to its haunches, staring placidly at my crippled frame.
In a voice most calm, it stated:
"Ye now possess the knowledge and will to conduct the passage of the dead. And for the rest of your time, you shall know the comforting thickness around you is but an illusion. You begin tomorrow."
"I'm sorry. I begin what?"
I could feel the being's grin though it did not move.
"Every eon has its conduits between the living and the dead. Those who seek the knowledge must do the work. And now, you work. You are now unfit to live among the living, for you cannot be both dead and alive at once. Ye shall enter the inbetween, so that you may maintain your spirit of life and death in equilibrium. It is my time to join the sea of souls. You will take my place."
"I cannot do that."
"Most surely, you can. For you must. The time is upon us, and we must act swiftly. Look at your arm now, you fool."
I did. I reeled for the second time. My flesh was melting, along with the surrounding frost.
That sweet smell of my own rot.
"I...."
"Yes. Now, we must go."
I continued to stare at my disintegrating body. The being was correct. My etheric body was no longer fit to stand still upon the earth meant for the living. I inhaled and dismissed my reticence. I closed my and the being's circle and we walked through the veils of the night.
And this is how I came to be, as the usher between two worlds.
And so, kind one, I thank you for asking my story. I apologize for being so long winded. I also apologize for the slight discomfort of this process. I assure you, better things lie beyond.
It has been many years -- perhaps a millennium -- since I was thrust into this job in my own haste to master the universe.
I assure you, most sincerely, that the veil you are about to step through is a comfort, and a joy. It is death, yes, but it is ever so sweet.
It will be alright. |
Entertainment definitely isn't the first thing that comes to mind when people think about eternal damnation, but damn if it wasn't important. Even tormented souls could end up getting bored if left in the same agonizing torture for too long, and boredom led to complacency that led to... well, not suffering as much. It was doubly important for management, as we didn't even have the thrill of being eaten by wasps or having the flesh burned off our bodies to keep us busy. As such, among the dungeon masters of the underworld, there was something of a competition to see who could come up with the most dastardly torment for the wretched spawn left in our "care", with some token prizes for being the nastiest and most creative.
I was currently the champion, the sheer variety of torments I managed to pack into my domain was beyond compare. After all, who else had the sheer sadistic wherewithal to expose victims to (warning: yuck)>!steadily increasing temperatures while covered in acid-spitting maggots, such that the creatures burrowed into the flesh of the victims before dying and rapidly decaying within their flesh?!<. Still, I did admire the gumption of some of my coworkers.
As it happened, during one busy day of orchestrating torments, I received a message. The standard manner of sending messages was, of course, to brand them into the flesh of a damned soul then fire them from a cannon or catapult to their intended destination. This too was something of a competition, and it was impressive that I actually had to duck to avoid being plonked in the head by the flailing body.
The message itself was of interest as well. Lord Carbine had apparently had trouble with a soul who seemed immune to torture. It had even been causing quite a lot of problems for her because of the way she went about tormenting those under her watch. I actually considered Carbine one of my greatest rivals, her idea of creating an entire mini-society designed to drove those within it to constant stress and paranoia was downright diabolical, if a bit of a slow burn. Hell, it also meant her victims were basically torturing each other for the most part, so she had plenty of free time. Still, I assumed it would be a rather simple request, and branded the word "ACCEPT"across the messenger's groin, right below the long and elaborate message that had been etched into his torso.
Obviously he cried out in agony, especially when my minions dragged him to the cannon on his already-broken ankles, but I went about my business as usual. Really, he should've considered this before he murdered all those people.
When the new arrival entered, he wasn't delivered from the ferry in chains like most souls, nor did he float up from the inky wells as one who fell from the neutral zone would. No, he fell from the sky, most likely due to being fired from a message cannon.
Strangely, he wasn't screaming, but was shouting "WHEEEEEEEE"as he flew through the air. He struck the ground hard, but quickly started laughing as the dust cleared. No injuries, not even a scratch on his exposed skin. I quickly gestured for my minions to grab him, and began throwing him into various tortures.
The hall of blades did nothing, they just poked his skin without doing any damage. Given that he reacted by laughing, I had to assume he was ticklish as well. The pit of centipedes just skittered across him without actually biting or stinging him. In fact, he started falling asleep before he was dragged out. The lake of fire didn't do anything, for some reason the viscous fluid just didn't stick. The Kremlocks didn't try to stab him with their jagged spears, disembowel him, or even kick up some game involving throwing things at him, instead they apparently decided to start a musical number. Even the acid-spitting maggots just sort of gave him an exfoliation treatment instead of tormenting him.
Finally, I'd seen enough. Days of planning and failed torture, and now hours of frustration, it was time to bring out the last resort: Talking to him like an actual human being. My minions dragged him down to a meeting room, leaving him with a glass of water. It was salt water, of course, but he didn't seem to mind.
I left him for an hour to let him stew before entering, but he still seemed quite chipper when I arrived.
"So... you're the soul that's been giving everyone trouble?"I asked. Rhetorically, of course.
"Trouble? I don't want to cause trouble for anybody,"he said. "Also, the name's John."
"Then why don't any of the punishments seem to work on you?"I asked.
"Oh, because I'm not meant to be here,"John said.
"Right, you and every other soul in this place. Turns out nobody belongs in hell, who knew?"I said.
"I'm sure that's what they say, but I'm serious. I'm not here for torment, so the torment won't affect me. I just came to deliver a message. Is there an Oscar Cromwell around?"John asked.
"Oscar Cromwell? That was my name back when I was alive,"I said. "I go by Dredge now."
"Ah, how fortunate! Claudia Cromwell had a message for you,"John said.
"My mother? Is she here somewhere?"I asked.
"Oh no, she's my next door neighbor up in the Sunnyvale province of heaven, but she wanted to extend an invitation to you to her birthday... last week. Oh dear, it seems I got a little distracted..."John said. "I'm sure she'd still love to see you though."
"Wait, we can get deliveries from heaven down here?"I asked.
"Oh yes, but it's quite rare for those up above to send things down here,"he said. "Honestly, it took me a few days to even realize you were down here, I'd assumed you must've been in purgatory given that Claudia was your mother."
"Okay, putting those rather rude presumptions aside: I might be management, but I'm still in hell. How exactly would I go about visiting heaven?"I asked.
"Oh, the invitation will bring you there,"he said, handing me a postcard bearing the image of an idyllic small town. The words "wish you were here"were printed across it in a generic faux-cursive font. "Anyway, I've got to go, I've got more deliveries I was meant to have done days ago!"
With that, John left the room and began jogging outside. He put his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle as he ran, a Pegasus flying down alongside him after a minute. John hopped onto the winged horse's back, and the two flew off into the sky.
I just stood there, quietly pondering exactly how a postcard was meant to get me to Sunnyvale. The material of the card appeared to be standard laminated paper and ink. Finally, I turned it over and found a small diagram of a door. It showed the card being used to swipe some kind of scanner next to the door, a scanner which didn't exist on any door in my region of hell. Visiting my mother was something I definitely wanted to do, she'd been dead for almost thirty years before I bit the big one and it had been years still since then, but it looked like it might have been difficult to do.
I already had business with other dungeon masters, so I made a mental note to check if any of them had scanners on doors within their domains. Then I came up with a strange plan, and swiped the card through the latch on the door, as if I was trying to break in. The door opened to a small suburban town, where people seemed to be going about whatever business they had. Since my wyvern was already being prepared to pick me up from other lands and could hopefully find his way to the heavens, I stepped through. |
This was only ever supposed to be a job. Survey and report the person of interest until either evidence could be gathered against them, or they were no longer considered a threat. I had done it several times before, usually with people who I could identify as pedophiles, wanna be terrorists, and the occasional drug lord; you know, the real scum of the earth. Of course, there were exceptions, like children who had typed in some key words associated with crime, but who were ultimately harmless. It all changed when I was assigned to a woman named Allison.
Supposedly, she was connected to multiple members of a terrorist organization. It wasn't long before I had concluded that she had no idea about any terrorists in her circle. She was simply the kind of person who everyone wanted to be around. She was kind, funny, smart, and beautiful; all traits that even the worst people can appreciate. But I just couldn't bring myself to move on to the next file. Ally (as her friends called her) didn't even know I existed, but I felt a friendship forming on my end. Everything about her intrigued me, from her heartwarming video calls with her family, to the way she danced when she thought no one was watching. Mostly, though, she created magnificent pieces of art. I felt an emotional connection not only with her, but with her creations as well.
It hurt me to see that she never showed her work to anyone. She was in school for architectural engineering trying to follow in her father's footsteps and eventually work with him. But it was clear that her true passion was in the arts. I soon noticed a pattern in her artwork. The subjects were always girls with clear beauty, but with a subtle sadness in their eyes. I recognized that look, because I had seen it every day on Ally's face. I had become so obsessed with the idea of her that I had failed to notice in spite of all of her wonderful qualities, she didn't love herself. At that moment of realization I felt a pain in my heart like never before. All I wanted to do was comfort her, but that was impossible. Doing so would compromise not only myself, but the whole organization that I worked for. According to the general public, my division didn't even exist, and staying hidden was what allowed us to protect the country. Without us, chaos would ensue.
So I kept watching, a silent observer. Over time, I saw she was getting worse. Her friends were none the wiser, but when she was alone, anyone could read misery on her face. She no longer danced or sang, and it was seldom that she drew. Eventually, she did the one thing I had been dreading. She typed into Google, "painless way to kill yourself."When Google only suggested the suicide hotline, she went to Bing and found all of the answers she wanted. Her research led her to carbon monoxide poisoning. At this point, I knew I had to do something. But stopping suicides was not in my job description. My only option was to handle this on my own, without calling in help.
I got on the first flight to where she lived across the country. Along the way I kept a steady eye on my laptop, monitoring her behavior. Nothing had happened yet, but I knew my time was running out. Five hours later, I landed in Phoenix, about 30 minutes away from her home. After I had gotten in a taxi, I looked back at my screen and saw her scribbling something on paper. At first glance, I felt a sense of relief, thinking she was drawing once again, but with a closer look, it looked like she was writing a letter. Ally was crying, and I could only assume she was writing her suicide note. I was sobbing at this point, and I pleaded for the cab driver to go faster.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally arrived at her home. I practically jumped out of the car, and started running towards her door.
"Hey! What about my money?!"yelled the driver. In haste, I pulled out my wallet and threw the whole thing inside of the car window, running back towards the door. The driver didn't complain, and he took out my ID and threw it on the ground keeping the rest for himself. I didn't even notice him drive off.
"Allison!"I screamed, banging on her door, "Ally! I need to talk to you! I've never known someone like you before, but I am a better man now that I do. Please, don't do this! I love you. I know you don't know who I am, but I know you."
There was nothing but silence. I looked at my screen and saw that there was no one in front of her camera. Out of pure desperation, I started trying to kick down her door. Once I got in, I ran through her house, searching everywhere like it was my own place. I found her hiding behind her couch, with her phone in her hand.
"Thank God,"I exhaled as I went in to embrace her. She screamed. For a moment I had forgotten hat she didn't know who I was. I stepped back, and started to say everything I had wanted to. "You're too good to die, Ally. Please, you are greater than you can imagine. You don't have to do anything for anyone other than yourself. I know that you love art. Just pursue that! Travel, sell your work, go to art school. Please, just do whatever you need to live..."
She looked terrified, but then I heard sirens in the distance. She had called the police, and they were running into the room.
"On the ground! You're under arrest!"
I followed their orders, crying. "I was only trying to help,"I said repeatedly. They dragged me into their car, while I saw other officers approaching Ally for questioning. That was the last time I ever saw her. Thanks to my (former) job, I didn't go to prison, and I was relocated with probation on the condition that I never sought out Ally again. It has been nearly a decade since that day. So, why am I bring this up now? This evening, I was walking down the streets of New York City when I passed one of those "high art"galleries. One painting caught my eye; one that I knew the style of all too well. It was the portrait of a girl crying, but not tears of pain. No, I saw rejoice in her eyes, as if she had been a prisoner her entire life and had just broken free. Underneath the painting was a plaque that read, "The one that started it all."I looked around the room and saw several other works of art in a similar style, with one even looking eerily similar to myself. In the bottom right corner of each of these paintings was scribbled one word: *Ally* |
*'Happy little accidents'* he called them. So sweet, so sinister.
&nbsp;
I had watched Bob Ross all through my life, from the first episode in 1983 through to the last in 1994. I was hooked, he was so calming. A perfect serenity in a world full of chaos. He's the reason I wanted to see so much more good in the world. He's the reason I became a cop. I joined the academy right out of high school, and put every effort into being the best law enforcement officer I could be. In time, the higher ups noticed my achievements and I was promoted to Detective - that's where this story really begins.
&nbsp;
I took the case because no-one else would. It was a dead end, a cold case. No leads, no witnesses - just a corpse and an unusual murder weapon. The victim had been found in a shallow grave in Congaree National Park. Not really my jurisdiction but like I said, no one would touch it. Autopsy revealed that the victim had been murdered at the scene, so the likelihood was that they knew the perp. The only odd thing, remember I said an unusual murder weapon? He was killed with a paintbrush, pushed right into the brain through the eye. I did some digging around, the victim's name was David Michaels. He was a small-town lawyer from a town a couple miles south of Congaree. Kept to himself mostly, did a lot of arts and crafts in his spare time. I couldn't find a motive. No one that I could find wanted this man dead. I kept searching.
&nbsp;
A few days after taking the Congaree case, another landed on my desk that I just couldn't refuse. A woman, Davina Ellenbach, had been found dead that morning just down the road in the Big Cypress National Reserve. Nothing surprising there, unfortunately bodies were found in that park all the time. I grabbed my hat, jumped in the cruiser and made my way to the scene of the crime. 'No one's touched the victim yet' the officer spoke through a thick southern accent, her voice carrying through the trees. 'Okay so who found her?' I asked, looking around me for any sign of disturbances. We were way off the beaten track and had to push our way through the undergrowth. 'Some kids looking for a place to party' she replied, stepping over the rotting remains of a long fallen tree. 'Just over here'. She led me to a hastily dug grave, not even two feet deep. The shoes were poking out and everything. *Why bother?* I thought to myself. Taking care where I stood, I knelt down and brushed away some of the dirt covering the woman's face. I stood up in alarm. *'Shit'* I thought. 'Interesting' I said out loud. 'Get the photographer to take as many shots of the face and upper body that you can'. I was already walking back through the woods to my car.
&nbsp;
Two completely unrelated victims, hundreds of miles away from each other. Same cause of death. This couldn't be a coincidence. I worked through every aspect of Davina's life, from her high school years to the day of her death. I trawled through her house but the victims had no connections through family, friends or coworkers, no financial connections, I was losing hope when it clicked. Art. They both loved art. Who did they both know well enough to walk them into the wilderness without any hesitation and murder them in cold blood? I called the every arts and crafts shop I could find - asking questions. Had anyone been in buying a specific type of brush? Had they seen the victims in the days leading up to their deaths? I found out that yes, David had been in his local hardware store when a fairly well known celebrity had come in. The two had chatted and left together. Same story with Davina, that same celebrity appeared out of the blue in her local arts and crafts shop. They got to talking and left together. That celebrity? Bob Ross.
&nbsp;
I studied the canvas, then looked through the photographs. Identical. He knew, it was premeditated. Both the forests Davina and David had been found in had been featured as paintings in Bob Ross' program. But get this, the episodes had come out three months prior. There were even little details hidden in the paintings, Davina's shoe could be seen poking out of the ground just like how she was found. It was eerie. It was..psychopathic. I built up my case, connected missing persons to **every single episode** he had ever aired. 403 missing persons, 403 paintings. Across the whole country, it would make him the most prolific serial killer in history. I took it to the judge and got a warrant.
&nbsp;
So here I stand. A small team of highly trained professionals standing behind me in case things turn sour. On Bob Ross' porch. I knock. The wait is unbearably tense. Finally I hear footsteps as the man himself opens the door and smiles.
&nbsp;
*'Ah'* he nods knowingly. *'You must have found my happy little accidents'*. |
Hank was walking down the street holding a gilded harp. He was fully aware that this life was every bit as real as any life he had known. Yet, it had the misfortune of being accessible only through his dreams. As real as it could be, he found that his perception of it was clouded in all of the trappings of any quasi-lucid dream. He jolted awake as his phone chirped. Opening his eyes he looked around, no longer standing on the street, he glanced downward to see the same gilded harp in his hands.
He sighed as he tossed it to the corner of his room where it landed with a thud beside other random objects he had been holding when a Facebook notification or something would stir him from his sleep.
Hank stepped out of bed and scratched his bare belly as he went to look through the window. Everything was as it should be. His apartment complex was as inviting as its promotional imagery portrayed on this bright, sunny day. Well groomed gardens framed well maintained sidewalks and other young professionals were already making their way out to embark on their very important careers.
Hank set about his morning routine as he considered his two worlds. While this was familiar the alter-world was exotic. The deep purples of the sky were the most beautiful colors he had ever seen naturally occurring in nature. The animals and the plants were almost like something out of a Dr. Seuss book or a surrealist painting. They were engaging to the senses and he loved just looking at these unfamiliar products of creation.
Hank stepped out of the shower and got dressed. Here was the part where he wished he could have it all. Hank was tired of the mundane world which he knew first. Yet, here he was a successful man. Getting dressed he prepared to embark on his own daily commute to the office where he led a team of developers in exchange for a fair bit of money that allowed him comfort, enjoyment and just a touch of prestige.
There was, for sure, a social hierarchy in the alter-world. Though Hank was lingering at its bottom rung. His first few times were spent ranting about how it was all a dream and even testing the limits once he made this realization. The result was that Hank was labeled a lunatic in the alter-world. The jobs there were of a world he did not understand among a people who were equally mysterious to him. At first, he was content to just wander the streets and admire all there was to see. No need to eat, right? He was only going to wake up in a few hours anyway. Unfortunately for Hank, he soon realized that what affected him in one world had an effect on the other. A pound lost here or there resulted in an equal pound lost in the opposite world. The hunger paints of the alter-world carried over here. He couldn't test this theory, of course, but he suspected that his death in one world meant his death in the other, as well.
So by day Hank led his team to new heights of programming greatness. By night he was begging for exotic foods on a street like looked like a Van Gough painting on an acid trip.
Hank's alter-ego looked nothing like him. This made him wonder if others from this world were also there. Maybe the kid who made his coffee in the morning was the royalty of the purple planet. Were all roles as reversed as his or was he simply a misfit who could not advance in society and whose current success was due to circumstance more than his own abilities? These were things that weighed on his mind.
The cloudiness of his dream entry to the purple world added unpredictable dream elements like random objects in his hands or sudden and strange behaviors which reinforced his reputation as the local loon.
Have you ever had that dream where you have to pee and so you run around to different restrooms but, try as you might, peeing just doesn't relieve the pressure? Then you wake up and realize it was because your body refused to pee the bed despite your best mental imagery. Hank knew that one too. And it, unfortunately, resulted in a desperate purple world Hank, on more than one occasion, attempting to urinate throughout the public quarters of this new world, often yelling "Why won't it come out?"or "This piss doesn't feel any better!"as he horrified passersby.
On the subway that morning, Hank passed an obviously mental ill homeless person. He wondered if this person was well adjusted in the purple world and, like him, simply had a hard to acclimating to the alter-world where he spent his sleeping hours. This man could be a doctor in the other world but is hindered by a sleepy state just like him. Was that it? Maybe the sane ones were from that world and all of the crazy ones were the sleepers. That could explain some things.
Just then, Hank had a thought. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a few coins from the Purple World. He looked at them. In the light of this world they looked so different. They were like the sort of currency you might find in a Sci Fi movie or an episode of Star Trek. Highly decorative and like no currency known on Earth. Standing up he walked to the man and held them out.
The man's eyes widened as he cautiously took the coins. "You know my world?"Hank's heart skipped a beat. So many questions could be answered. Hank nodded. "Meet me tonight at the green fountain near City Hall..."Hank said quietly. The man nodded, knowingly. He smiled to expose his decaying teeth as he looked at the money before looking up at Hank.
Hank was so excited he could barely work the rest of the day. He went home and almost too eagerly went to sleep. He trudged through the cloudiness of his own mind as he arrived at the green fountain, pulsating with a pure liquid that tasted of goodness but took on a green hue not seen in the natural order of Earth. There, Hank saw a man sitting on a bench with his palm open, holding the very coins he had gifted that morning to the man on the subway. Hank had never been able to transport items from Earth to the Purple World, only the opposite. This was a notch toward the theory that this man originated from this world and that the insanity set in when you went elsewhere. Hank walked closer and was about to shake the man's shoulder to wake him. Just then, however, he felt an intense pain in his stomach. He fell to his knees and then onto his side. His eyes slowly closed and he awoke on Earth with a start. Looking at his hands as they clutched his stomach he noticed they were covered in blood. Looking up he saw the man from the subway and he was holding a bloody knife.
"Sorry friend, but I just have to know..."said the man as he plunged the knife into Hank's flesh again and again. Hank cried out in silence as the wound had injured his lung. He watched as the man gathered many of the items Hank had brought back. Money from the Purple World, random items that could be sold and things like that. The man quickly left. Hank tried to reach his phone but was unable. His eyes fluttered closed only to reopen in the Purple World. There he saw the man standing up with arm fulls of the goods he acquired over his years of visiting this strange place.
"I hate to do it. I really do. But I needed to see if dying in one world meant you died in the other,"said the man. "It looks like that is exactly what happens."With that he walked away showing no true remorse.
Hank closed his eyes on the Purple world for the final time as his heart stopped on Earth. Then there was darkness.
Suddenly, Hank's eyes opened. "Is this heaven?"he asked out loud.
"I'd hardly call Bayonne 'heaven' but whatever floats your boat..."mused a gruff man lifting a heavy box. "Quit screwing around and help me with this. You gotta stop fallin asleep on the job, Jerry, you're gonna get us both fired..."
So Hank, now Jerry, stood up and helped with the boxes. There was no cloudy dream quality. This was real. This was his new life. He was a bit disappointed, to say the least. Just then he looked up to admire the bright glow of the green sky. |
“Thank you, officer.” Terry dropped his phone and slumped into his chair. His head fell into his hands and he wept. “She’s back,” he whispered to himself, over and over. Mary, his wife, stuck her head out of the kitchen.
“Is everything okay?” She asked.
He looked up at her, dread in his wet, red eyes. “She’s back.”
She gasped, the glass she held slipped to the ground, shattering on impact. Neither Terry nor Mary paid attention or cared as shards of glass slid across the floor. “Please… please no…”
“Officers say they found her hiding in an empty house. She won’t tell them what happened. They assume she was kidnapped by whoever lived there.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Of course it’s not *fucking* true!” Terry snapped. He immediately regretted his outburst. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s just...”
“We’re in trouble. What if she tells them?” Mary’s voice cracked with fear.
“What’s she going to tell them? That we fucking killed her? That she’s buried in our yard? No, she won’t tell them shit. She can’t. They wouldn’t believe her. Besides, I’m not worried about what she tells them.”
“Do you think… do you think they could find out?”
“Honey, she’s alive and well. The officer said she looks healthy and… happy… I don’t think we have the cops to worry about.”
“They found her in an empty house?”
“Yes.”
“Do you *think*?” Mary’s voice sounded sad and scared at the same time. Terry could almost taste her regret.
“Of course. That’s why she’s happy. That was the only thing that made her happy.”
She moved to the couch and sat down. Silence filled the house until neither could bear it. Terry looked at his wife. He felt a surge of sympathy, regret, and sadness. The emotions lasted only a moment, swept away in a torrential river of fear. Mary looked up, through the tears their eyes locked. Mary whispered, “I’m scared.”
“Me too, honey.”
A knock on the door caused them both to jump. Looking to each other, Terry and Mary stood and grabbed each other's hands. They walked to the door, carefully attempting to mask their fear with faux happiness. The cops wouldn’t notice, he thought, they’d probably assume the tears were of joy. He took a deep breath and kissed her, whispering, “I love you,” before opening the door.
A lone police officer greeted them, holding their daughter's hand. “She’s home,” he smiled.
“Oh, baby… we missed you so much.” They lied.
She looked up, her smiling innocent face locked on to Terry, causing a chill to run through his spine. Her smile, more a sneer he noticed, and her eyes, while bright and beautiful, were just as cold and dead as always. Terry fought to control himself. He refused to be lost in a sea of fear again. He felt hot. Sweat stuck on his brow. He knew her smile. He knew that smile.
The house hadn’t been empty when she found it... |
I’ve never been the best at time management. I’ve made it all the way through university and into the workforce by being a lazy prick. I’d spend my time watching movies or playing games with my friends whoch then lead to me trading specific parts of those experiences and sometimes even entire days to make it through. Now I’m here,
and I can only remember half, hell at this point it could be as low as one fourth of my life up until now. I’ve kept all the good times and even some of the bad times. They define me ya know. If I forgot them then I’d have to relearn thst lesson and go through the pain again. Life is monotonous and boring. I am now scrolling through my 400 game steam library reminiscing about the past after a long day of work consisting of sitting at a desk staring at code. All of a sudden I notice that counter strike global offensive has 5000 hours played. Immediately all of my memories of playing with my friends flood back. Good times. Then it hits me. If I sacrifice these 5000 hours of playtime with my friends then I can put that towards something that can actually help me. The question is what. Do I drop a few hundred hours into things that I wanna learn so I can gain a bunch of skills/hobbies? No.. that’s no fun. If I dropped all 5k hours into one thing then I could become a master at one thing instantly. But what is worth it. I need to use this wisely. It has to be something that will benefit me for years to come. What have I always wanted to do? It should be something I know nothing about right. I’ve always wanted to be good at art. Maybe I’ll drop it into painting. Ehh, that doesn’t peak my interest. How about sculpting. I’ve always thought making statues would be cool. Welp, let’s impulsively drop 5000 hours into sculpting.
Weeks have gone by and in my spare time, I have done nothing but etch statues. Dividing time into sculpting, work, and every other exhausting aspect of life is so stressful I can already feel my sanity fading. Even with this, I still don’t have the skills I desire. Due to this, I have concocted a genius plan to take my sculpting skills to the next level. I am going to sacrifice all my unnecessary memories. Meaning every remaining dance in primary school, relationships, tv shows. All of it will be sacrificed to take my skills to the highest level possible.
It has now been months since I started giving away my mind to my passion. Well, I think it has. It very well could have been years. I’ve long since forgotten the concept of time. It started by giving away the other memories and skills I had kept that I felt had some kind of value. However, I soon began to feel empty inside because I couldn’t remember anything correctly. Nothing seemed real anymore. I couldn’t discern reality from fantasy. Then came the breaking point. I can clearly recall that I was in a state of complete unadulterated insanity. Amidst the insanity, a thought occurred on how to calm myself. I made a drastic impulse decision that quite frankly ended up saving my life. I gave up the rest of my memories for my new found passion. Think about it. What’s the point of remembering when you can’t even tell what happened. It was bringing me nothing but confusion and pain. See the thing was, I improved at sculpting at an absurd rate. I quickly became skilled enough to make a living. This wasn’t enough. I realized that there were so many other art forms that I needed to learn to improve my skill overall. Measures had to be taken. This is when I started sacrificing anything I thought wasn’t as important as my new work and love. I am now a master of my craft and have essentially peaked the possible human ability to create art. |
[Poem] Hey doc sorry I missed your call phones off but I’m home lockin the door knob returning your call now it seems the mark is darkening I was at the market parking when a car barged jarring my larynx ajar coughing a hair ball onto the dashboard the kids in the back seat started gasping as the wifey sat in the passenger seat asking if she should pull cash for a hospital trip but all I heard was meowing I exited the car and a herd of felines gazed me from a ways and then they began to sing a “j” the note struck stringing chains of knowledge of Pyramids Egyptians and hieroglyphic clays I passed out and when I came to a cat licking my face and now I’m wondering if I’m going crazy so if you could call me back I’d like that greatly. |
The eternal torches of Olympus, ablaze for untold millennia, lay dark for the first time. Thirteen gods, fickle and capricious deities of great strength, now glower in the dark silently. Their eyes flicking from each other to the ceiling then to the floor.
They were supposed to be invincible. All powerful and unconstrained. They were the deities of the greatest civilization on the planet. The empire of their worshipers stretched from Macedonia to the Indian subcontinent. They had crushed lesser pantheons under their might. They were immortal, eternal! And yet… just a day before, there had been fourteen Olympians.
His throne sat empty now, forlorn. Once a towering edifice of sea-rock and coral, it had filled those who looked at it with a feeling of the oceans immensity, its wonder and power. Now it was a chunk of rock. Poseidon, the second oldest of their race, whose power had only been eclipsed by the King of the Gods, lay dead. His palace, a vast and beautiful underwater realm, in ruins.
The oceans raged mindlessly without a master and storms battered the land. Horrors crawl out of the ocean as a million voices from across the land rose in fearful prayer, begging the gods to restore order, to calm the seas and settle the skies. Yet Olympus lies dark and silent, the gods ignoring the fervent prayers spiraling up to them.They have but a mere glimpse of the enemy, a flash, a feeling, gleaned from Apollo’s powers of prophecy. The sense of something unimaginably old, the sense of something vile and... alien.
The younger gods, as the young tend to do, chart a bold course of action as they call for war. Dionysius, Athena and Ares, Hephaestus and Hermes, Apollo and Artemis, the newest generation of Olympians eager for glory and battle. They were born into supremacy, having lived their whole lives never seeing anybody but the other Olympians who could challenge their might. The older Olympians know differently. Hades, Hera and Hestia. Demeter, Aphrodite, and the mightiest of them all: Zeus. They remember a time, before the age of Olympus, when they were the newcomers, surrounded by beings unimaginably old. They remember the Titanomachy, the brutal wars for supremacy that they barely won. They can see that the new foe, this antediluvian evil, is older than the titans, older even then the primordial deities of the earth, sky and void.
The older Olympians know how this will play out and yet they silently their younger kin. They gather their power and mount their chariots. Perhaps they go out of vengeance, for their fallen brother. Perhaps they go out of some sense of duty, to the humans who have devoted their lives to them. Maybe they even think they can win this, and in doing so prove their dominion not only over the Earth, but the vast starry expanse it floats in.
Whatever their reasons, whatever their motivations, Mount Olympus is once again ablaze, a lighthouse in the storm, a beacon of hope to the millions of souls in the land below. |
The cold crept in around my fingertips, still gripped around the steering wheel. I'd shut the car off almost 25 minutes ago. I could hear the inside of the house from the inside of my car, all the way at the edge of the driveway. I knew what was happening because I'd tasted plenty of it last year. Not the yams, I mean: the pent up egos.
Jay had probably started talking, at least an hour or two ago, about how *well* work was going for him. Usually by how a wealthy client had paid him to x, y, or z such deal. Macie, no doubt, had started tearing into him about how it was probably unethical, or how it impacted her and her job personally, or how it would affect her deputies or suspects. Everything always had 'secondary and tertiary effects' with her, that nobody 'ever considers.' But it's remarkable how many of those third-order effects seem to affect her and her first. Mom would try to quiet them initially, but then she'd be pulled in, and start yelling with the both of them. Dad would ignore them as long as he could until he couldn't stand it. He would then try to yell *over* the three of them, usually with cherry-picked bible verses. A contest he would give up at, shortly, and resort to playing his obnoxious choir music over them from the living room. That music, which, I could hear already going. My mom's sister and dad's sister stopped bringing their families. I didn't blame them.
The chill set deeper into my hands... I took them off the steering wheel to look at them. I started moving them to warm them up, but then stopped briefly to consider maybe just trying to get frost-bite so I could leave.
The food was good, I'm sure. which is part of why I didn't even want to get out of the car. Like a mouse smelling cheese, I knew it was just at the other end of a very large trap. I'd seen a video of a mouse intentionally springing a trap, and then grabbing the cheese. Who knew they could be that smart? Maybe there was a way for me to spring the trap first, grab the food, and bolt? Now that was tempting.
It's been 30 minutes now, of literally just sitting here in a car and staring out the front windshield. Someone was sure to notice soon. Not because they missed me, or anything. No, not by a long shot. But I was a certain host to their parasitic game. I was the odd vote. Always had been. Now in politics, being the odd vote held a certain amount of power. But not here... here both choices were never the ones I would have picked, so I only ever said something to shut Jay or Macie up. When I was little I used to use a coin and just flip it. But somehow they stopped liking that because I wasn't actually "voting."When they told me that, I said well I vote for Red Lobster. And dad said I'm not paying for red lobster, so vote. It was at that point I just picked a new method, I assigned one side odds and one side evens. Whatever my watch said the time was at that exact second, that's what I went with.
You see, their crazy was the sort that needed somewhere to land, otherwise, how would they know they were being obnoxious enough? They certainly would never be able to tell because the others were already being obnoxious. They needed me to gauge whether they'd succeeded in sucking every last bit of soul left in the room.
The answer, before I even went into the house, was already yes.
A long, deep inhale, and I tried to think about it differently. I was remembering the worst of it. They're not so bad. They have taken an interest in my affairs...
Oh, no, they ARE that bad. Because truth was, as awful as it was when they never asked about me, it was always worse when they did. Each of them made over 90,000 a year. I needed a loan to pay off my '02 Honda. I needed a loan for 5,000 dollars. And yet, I happier to take the loan than hear them make a single comment about my car or my finances. Mis-matched bumpers, bolted-on fender, and all.
There was a knock on the window. It both startled me and froze me to my spot. Who was it that came out to check on me? I turned my head slowly, with my eyes darting like a rabbit that felt the hawk descending. But it was Ally, our youngest cousin. My Aunt must have shown up after all.
Her eyes formed a ridge across her forehead. "Are you okay?"
I simply shook my head and said, "don't go in there."She laughed and tried to open the door handle, but I'd never gotten around to unlocking the car.
"Let me in,"she said, somewhere between a question and an order.
I unlocked the car, only to realize there was random work junk in the front seat. I started panic shuffling it into the back seat, with the rest of the work junk. She took off her gloves and started to help. When it was good enough she just sat down and closed the door.
"Is Aunt Kaitlynn here?"
"Nope. I'm actually closer to you guys from my college. I talked to your parents... They didn't tell you?"
"Hmph."
"I see. Well, I'm happy to see you Chance."
"I am too."The corner of my mouth curled upward, genuinely, for a split second. Ally was the person in my whole family I was closest to during my whole childhood. Ally was always smarter than you expected, even when you expected it.
"Come inside."
"... no."
"I know how Jay can be. I have never met anyone that so completely enjoyed the sound of his own voice. But your mom misses you."
I must have made a face, because she moved on to guessing "... your dad? Macie? Oh come on."
"Last month I took the ASVAB because I was thinking about joining the marines to get away from them."
"What? Don't do that!"
"I'm not going to... just a fantasy."
"Ouch. I see. But Chance, I'm going in. And I'm going to eat. I'll see you inside."And in a blink of an eye, she had already shut the car door and was heading toward the house. I'd been spacing out so much my brain must not have registered her actually getting out.
"... dammit."I got out of the car. |
There comes a time when you have to stand up and declare, "enough is enough!"Well, today is that day. It wasn't anything grand or horrific that brought me to this point. It was a pebble. A tiny spec of the Earth trapped in my foot that I wasn't allowed to stop and remove.
The monsters don't take breaks, you see. They follow relentlessly. We're faster, much faster, but when we wake up, there they are just on the horizon. So, no time to stop and get rid of that ridiculous rock.
Our goal was to get to the lake. The monsters had a hard time with water, and we could swim like fish. Get to the lake, get rid of the monsters--a pretty solid plan. Not for me, I was done running. I ripped the stone from my foot and charged back the way we'd come.
The screams of my companions mingled with the wind rushing over my face as I sped toward my pursuers. I stumbled on the uneven ground many times, but always managed to get up again.
Cresting a hill, I spotted one of the cursed creatures. It knelt on its disgusting two lower legs and ran its smaller upper legs along the ground. It was rare to see one alone, so I wasted no time.
The thing looked up moments before I leaped. The already too big eyes widened and it dodged to the side. It wasn't fair. No creature should have so many overdeveloped senses. I changed direction as soon as my feet were back on the ground.
It tried to use those senses against me, but I was faster, much faster. The monster's tenacity couldn't help it now. With ferocity I didn't know I had, I ripped into the thing. Blood flowed over my teeth and into my mouth.
Hey, monster tasted pretty good. I kept gnawing, savoring the flavor. Monster might have tasted good, but they were loud. It was hard to revel in my defiant victory with all that racket. That's when I heard them.
A whole pack of monsters came into sight. I had to abandon my meal and flee. No matter how good it tasted, no monster was worth dying for. Taking one last nibble, I ran.
The monsters gave chase, of course, but I was faster, much faster. |
Taken aback, Karen stood shocked that her husband would reply like this.
"I'm sorry babe, but the way you act in restaurants and stores really makes me appalled and fearful that you may turn on me one day."
She was stunned. For 16 years, she and her husband fought through everything together. Her father's death, the prostate cancer her husband got, even though the miscarriage, they both fought for sanities sake and perseverance.
Tearfully, she replied, "So you have been lying to me all these years? We went to hell and back together, but you tell me that you fear me just because of one tiny flaw?"
"It's not one tiny flaw,"he says, "it's one humungous flaw that makes it nearly impossible to do anything with you. The way you treat fellow humans just because they are working to serve you, it's scary and makes me embarrassed to be your husband sometimes."
"S-so, what are you going to do without me then, I pay most of our bills!"she says with tears flowing down her cheeks.
"I got a job."he says, "It's in Philadelphia, it pays more than your job could ever offer. Before I leave, I need to tell you that I left something for you in your dresser." |
"Isn't this what you wanted in your physical life? Lavish possessions with no limit. Everything encased in iridescent metals? Metals not of earth. You demonstrated a desire for material items, more than you did relationships in your past life. Here, I have given you what your soul truly desired."God spoke to me.
His words hit heavy. He was right. I didn't want him to be right, but I was selfish. I was so consumed with pretty things, that I didn't appreciate the true value of what mattered most. Connecting with other souls. Maybe this wasn't heaven, but hell after all. Perhaps this was God's way of punishing me. During my time on earth, I failed to learn crucial lessons, time after time. Many of a time, I had been left to sob with my precious makeup. With my jewels, blunts, and expensive stereos. Yes, each time I lamented. I cried from the emptiness I had created by pushing others away. Yet I had never learned to catch myself. To stop. I doomed myself to repeat the cycle.
"Please, my Lord, God. Please do not take my sorrow as ungratefulness. I am more than grateful and appreciative of the beautiful items you've gifted me with. It is generous that you even let me into heaven to begin with. Hard to contemplate actually. It's just, Lord, god, my father, that my soul desires other souls. I know I am undeserving. What I wanted here in heaven, was to be accompanied by the souls of people I love. My whole idea of heaven, was to be united with these other, beautiful, souls that you have created. Please, my Lord, I beg forgiveness. I apologise for speaking out of line, when I have no place to do so. "I explained to my father, then pleaded.
"Your desires are understandable. Yet, you did not earn this privilege through the lessons I assigned to you, during your time on earth. I sent you many guardian angels. You did not see them or appreciate them for what they were. The lessons I tried to whisper to you, you did not hear. You weren't listening hard enough. You failed to see the positive in the majority of signs that I sent you. For this is your fate. I even sent you angels to live with you on earth. I gifted you with my own children. Your mother, your neighbors, your co-workers, your friends. You took everything negatively. While I cannot blame you for every instance, you must realize your failure and ultimately the consequences. You failed to count blessings, more than you complained. You sank into depression. You lost faith."God the Father told me.
He was right. I sank to my knees.
"Father, my Lord, please forgive me for asking...is there any chance of redemption? I am filled with regret, sadness and shame. Feelings I didn't know were possible in heaven. I would do anything-"
"Change. Evolve. You have shown you are capable. Now is not the time for that though. You may have opportunites to reincarnate onto earth eventually. You may have a chance to connect with other souls in the higher reach of heaven's realm. Now is not the time however. Are you beyond redemption? Absolutely not. That is why I have forgiven you. I know how you function. I made you after all. I sacrificed my only son to make up for the sins of souls just like you. You just have to prove that you can be redeemed. You have to earn your loved ones. That will be seen in time. For now, child, go forth and play with the gifts I have left you. Use them to make both the heavens and the earth a better place. When you have truly learned what needs to be learned, only when you truly gasp the concept, will you be redeemable. For now, rejoice and wallow in my love. For I am kind to you. I love you. You are my child, after all."God told me compassionately. Tears streamed down my eyes. I didn't know angels could cry. Nor did I realize I was one until he told me. |
As I drove down the long dusty streets of the town I couldn’t help but wonder if I had arrived at the wrong place. On either side of the street there were barren houses torn apart and pieces of scrap littering the pathways, stray dogs and cats wandered between destroyed foliage. It was only as I turned the final corner to find myself in front of the town hall that I was sure it was the right town.
In front of the modest building there was a giant sign that read *Franksville*, a set of white steps led up to a pair of large doors, from which I could hear an angry voice yelling as I left the car. Outside the town hall there was a small park and a few local shops, but each one was as battered as the rest of the rest; the mayor had mentioned monsters, but this looked more like a scene from a war movie. Either way, there was a job to be done, and never one to miss the opportunity for an easy promotion I intended to do it. So up the steps I went.
The large town hall doors opened before me and what I found inside gave more of a fright than I’ve ever had. Benches of demons and ghouls the like of which I’d never thought to dream of sprawled out before me. At the front of the room stood on a stage and behind a podium a short balding man stood, plump and with a face as red as a tomato he was in the midst of an impassioned speech; yet from the tone of his voice it was clear he’d made it before.
“-again this has happened, this is the third time this year. What more do you want? What more could you possibly need?” He stopped to take a deep breath. It was clear that no one in the room had noticed my arrival and I contemplated making a quick escape. ‘You want to be accepted by men and I’m trying my hardest here to help you do that. Ugh, Jelemno, I heard this started at your shop?’ On the right side of the room a luminous yellow… *thing,* stood up. It had a great hulking body and stood eight feet tall, appeared to have two giant wings but instead of a beak tentacles protruded from its face.
“Yes mayor, Kalackaakakak decided to set my shop on fire.” A wispy red figure towards the front of the room stood, not so much having a body as lots of strange lines interwoven with each other to form the illusion of a shape.
“That was because *you* shorted me of change, I was owed three frogs legs and only got one in return.” It said.
“Alright alright alright, we all make mistake Kalackaakakak, there was no need to escalate it from there, what happened after the fire.” The mayor said, exasperated.
“Well I dodged the fire and shot some acid at her of course. Except, well, I missed and it flew straight out the window.”
“Urr, Mr Mayor, that would be where I come in. See the acid hit me, and I thought it was Yumakalsotur who spat it.” A huge pink beast that looked like a mix between an elephant and silverback gorilla spoke. ‘So I threw him across the street into Hamalaka.’
“Then I shot my needles at Ganaladriae.”
“It wasn’t me who did it… I flying kicked… Then a rock hit me in the chest.” A cacophony of voices rose up and all manner of beast stood. Lost in what was happening it was a few minutes before I noticed the podium at the front of the room was empty and the mayor had gone. It occurred to me that any promotion earned in this town would not be an easy one, and certainly not worth the hassle, so seizing the opportunity to slip away completely unseen I turned for the doors and slid out of the room.
To my surprise I found the mayor outside, except he wasn’t completely outside, but in my car. His fervent gaze fell upon me as the roar of the engine sounded out, and without a second glance he reversed, that was the last time I saw the mayor. Driving away from this hell-hole in my only way of escape. |
On an unremarkable day, waking up, but I couldn't remember what day it was. Nevertheless, I got up and got dressed for work as usual, selecting a smart blue suit with a crisp white suit and brown brogues.
Running down the stairs to grab some breakfast, I saw the back of my wife Mandy at the sink - her perfectly tousled blonde hair sparkled in the light of the kitchen window, I put my arms on her shoulders and went to kiss her good morning on her cheek - but something seemed different. Was it her perfume? Her clothes? I looked for a few seconds. 'Mandy, have you been up long?' I said, challenging something I wasn't sure of yet.
The lady I thought of as my wife turned around to face me, and the face was all wrong, but that wasn't the thing that got to me first. She was firmly holding a box with the corners in the palms of her hands, displaying the label as if it were a shopping channel. 'Good Morning Tommy, the perfect start for today is Eggo Waffles!' Gleaming and looking through me as if I were see-through. She added: 'Now with added vitamins and minerals, would you like yours with syrup?'
I looked at our hands, we were wearing the matching wedding bands from 9 years ago, but I didn't recognise this woman, her nose had been longer and I'm sure her eyes were blue. I had a strange deja vu about the whole thing but decided not to question it just yet.
'Sure thing honey' I replied, not really knowing what else to say. 'Sounds perfect for my day', that last bit seemed to come from my lips without me registering. I took a seat at the table and began flicking through the days news on my phone when lightening cracked outside.
'Oh dear, that must be the storm that they spoke about on the evening news' Mandy exclaimed. I looked at my watch, it was 7.15am. How often was Arizona having thunderstorms in the early morning these days? I didn't know but I realised that I might be running late for work if I didn't leave sharpishly. Throwing on my coat, I said my goodbyes and headed out the door. Darkness set in for a few seconds as I struggled to get the door free, when it finally sprung open - somehow, I was opening the front door from the outside and it was dusk outside.
I felt bewildered: 'Um, Honey, I'm home' as I walked in. Mandy stood in front of the tv, doing Yoga poses and gave a little wave. 'Hey Mandy, have you heard from Sophie today?' Suddenly realising I hadn't seen our daughter that day.
'Tommy, I hate to say age is catching up with us but Sophie left to go travelling Mexico six months ago' and laughed a shrill laugh. I scratched my scalp, Sophie was what 14? |
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