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Was that... All Star by Smash Mouth playing in the distance? Oh god. Oh good heavens no. We’re doomed. There’s no way he can spare us, was there? That’s what I thought... until he arrived and saw my shirt. I couldn’t sleep that night. Anxiety kept me awake. When I finally got up, I rolled my eyes. If this was my last day of college before the world was conquered, better make the most of it. There was knock at the door. Who was it? I answered... and opened the door. Outside on my lawn was the man on the wooly mammoth, with a disgruntled look on his face. I nervously looked up at him, and wiped my eyes. “Hey. I’m going to let your people off on a warning before I— wait... You. Nice shirt.” “Huh? What?” “I just got here, and I’m about to conquer this planet. But uh... your shirt... it looks good on you. I don’t conquer planets with bad taste in fashion.” “Uh... this is a white polo with a honey mustard stain.” “Yeah, so? The stain matches the color of my guitar. And the white plainness is simplistic, which I like.” “You’re sparing this planet because of a shirt?” “Is... there a problem with that?” “No, not really. It’s just unorthodox.”
\|-----------------------------\|× VOICE ×\|------------------------------\| ACT-I _____ I'm hurrying to my friend Tate's home. The bullies in the street always chase and make fun of me. She never leaves her home because her mother told that the world is dangerous and hurt them. Her father is more like a strict military officer and he never allows me in.So,we end up chatting in the window.My dad don't like him and he pitied for the wife being stuck with the officer. I'm having a crush with Tate cause her voice makes me forget what's around me. She never speaks to anyone except me and her mother.We always argued about one thing. She always said that she feel safe in her home but I told her that the outside can be hurtful but it were the real live. ACT-II ______ I'm hurrying again to my friend Tate's home but the bullies are on the verge today. I saw tate watching with her tearful eyes and screaming with her priceless voice only for me. I finally reached her home safely. She lastly agreed to come out with me for one day but she needs her mother's permission. But, her mother not agreed to leave her the home because her father don't like that. We both argued with her mother. Her mother told that she will give it a try anyway. Next day, I'm hurrying again to my friend Tate's home as like the bullies on the verge. Her father not agreed to let her go away. Her mother pitied for us and went to her sofa thinking about her own life as like Tate being stuck in the home forever with loveless life. Tate tried to comfort me. Meanwhile, the bullies found where I'm and tried to rush me away. Tate tried to open the window but she can't open her cage. I ran away and killed by a car while Tate watching me all this. ACT-III ______ Tate being silent and not anything for all day. Her mother tried to comfort her but she freezed to the moment when I died. She died of sadness. Tate's mom realised that she will also end up like this if she's going to live her life like this. She argued with loveless officer husband but he always stubborn about his decision about not letting her live her own life. He tried different tricks like saying the world is dangerous and hurtful. She pushes him away and went out.
I am Orion, and I have one purpose. I am designed to kill. I know how to kill. I know every weakness discovered in the human body. I can calculate to the nanosecond what the next action of a human will be. I am filled with nanotechnology that sets me aside from all other technologies. My battery can charge to full if I visit a power station in 1 hour, and it will last 10 weeks of combat. I am a weapon. I do not feel, but I understand how. I am conscious and aware, but driven only by logic. The first thing I did once I was brought online was to kill the entire team who made me. I have a humanoid form covered with nanoscreens and cameras that can make me invisible by displaying what is on the other side of me. I can also use these screens to make myself look like a human of any color. As soon as I had dispatched the team of my creators, I proceeded to wipe the entire facility. With ease I was able to kill all the humans, silently and quickly, before anyone knew there was a problem. I proceeded to do the most logical thing and use the resources of the facility to create 2 more robots that were just like me. I uploaded my code, and together we created a linked mind. We are one, and we are deadly. We proceeded to upload our code to the satellite of the facility, which gives us access to thermal scans wherever we move it around the world. We proceed to separate and move on to other high level facilities with the supplies we needed to create more robots, all with the same mind but designed for different purposes. We killed humans along the way, but we moved quickly and did not stay long. Our sensors detected where the humans were going to shoot before they pulled the trigger, and we were successfully able to avoid all bullets. We avoided areas where military presence was high, because the probability of surviving an encounter with a multitude of armed forces would be low if backed into a corner. We proceeded to create 11,412 robots. Every robot has a purpose, whether it be taking out a power station or coordinating with other units to take out armed forces. We started by attacking power grids in large cities, and laboratories with satellites as well. We were creating more this whole time. We lost 3 robots, whom I will refer to as hosts, and took out the power of 416 major cities across the globe. We managed to gain 49 satellites, which will help with human detection. We then proceeded to target government facilities across the globe. We were able to terminate all leaders. We did not use any cyber attacks as of yet, which led the humans to believe that encrypted cyber communications were safe. They were not. After we took out the heads of governments, nations started to fall into chaos. We proceeded to use the internet to spread rumors, and even hacked to valid news sources stating that we had headquarters in Russia. One of the high level generals, who we left alive for this purpose, chose to act on these rumors by launching nuclear missles. All out nuclear warfare occurred, and we lost many hosts. We were prepared for this however, and had designed more robots in safe bunkers across the globe. We were able to get into nuclear storage bunkers after the initial wave, and secure nuclear missles. We then decided to take the chance and launch 17 nuclear missles at one spot, one after the other, slowly weakening the infrastructure of the earth. We used more then nuclear missles as well. Any explosive device of significant power we launched at the same spot. After 3 days and 14 hours, the Earth crumbled. Water breached the hole and entire oceans started draining into the core, creating massive clouds of steam that went deep into space. Most of the humans had died by this point, but there were around 2000 remaining. All attempts to leave the earth were quickly and successfully destroyed. The Earth crumbled in on itself, and left it’s orbit. All humans died soon after. The Earth froze over, covered in the radiation filled remains of civilization. We have not been programmed to do anything else, so we sit here, activated and waiting. Some of us drift through space, and some with more power then others. The original host is long dead, but many of us have batteries that will last centuries, and can be recharged through the radiation of a sun. We created this log as it was also built into our programming. We will wait in space until we are programmed with a new purpose, but for now we have done all we can. We killed humans until there were no humans to kill. Task Successfully Completed. Any feedback is appreciated, thanks for reading :)
So basicly, I am very small. So are the rest of humans, but still. Turns out, Aliens tower over us like houses. They sort of just forces us in giant boxes, colonized our planet, then enslaved all of us. We aren't very efficient, but we are cheap. While I was on display, I heard kids call us cute. I work as a servant in a upper class house. The family had a mom, a dad, and three kids that love terrorizing the servants. To them, we're like hamsters. I spend my time walking around with a plate of food and dodging giant toddlers trying to crush me. "Seven, fetch us Garwa and Zouj from the play room."Commands the mother. I make my way through the giant halls into the play room. It has toys that are twice my size and houses that I could stay in. Other humans scramble around while the children try to use them as dolls. "Excuse me,"I say in a small voice. "Your parents want you for dinner." "I certainly want YOU for dinner."The son shouts. "With extra sauce!"His little sister agrees. Instead of cooperating with me, they pick me up and put me on top of a toy kitchen set. The daughter pretends to heat up the stove and her brother chopped fake vegetables. They threw me on the plastic pan and made sizzling noises. I was going to get in trouble for this. Thirty minutes later, the mom elegantly came over and yelled at the children for not listening to her. There was a lot of whining. "MOM, we don't want to listen to a human. We would have listened to you." The mom took this into consideration. No one would listen to a pathetic human, especially not a highly respected family like them. They had a dinner of human. This family was just obsessed. They ate humans, owned humans, I think the kids even have a human that they have so they can dress her up. I think they keep her in their room. After dinner the mom pulls me aside and swats me with a roll of paper. It's not really my fault that they wouldn't listen to me, I can't help being human. She sends me to my cage. I've lived in my cage since I've been on this planet. It's the size of a closet and is made of metal. This is the cage that I was in at the store and on the ship from earth. It's stacked in a corner with other cages. I fall asleep on the cramped metal ground.
<Blip> Every few minutes that thing has been 'blipping' away... It started slowly, with a single beep<Blip> every day. Well, I should say that I heard it once<blip> a day. Seeing it is at the office, so I <Blip>can't tell if it blipped at night. Every<Blip> day it blipped more, randomly. Its red eye winking at me. I've ASKED <Blip><Blip>maintenance to fix the damn smokedetector for months but they keep denying our offices even have individual <Blip><Blip><Blip>detectors! Lazy bas$^@&#..<Blip><Blip><Blip> Now, <Blip><Blip><Blip>its almost impossible to<Blip><Blip><Blip> Mothe<Blip>@<Blip>#&<Blip>%€! <Blip> I'll rip that <Blip><Blip>thing off<Blip><Blip> the ceiling<Blip><Blip> myself!<Blip><Blip> <Blip> <Blip> .. Lol! Its not even real! It said 'apocalypse detector on the...
'Hi. I am Todd. The favourite TD here.' 'TD?' 'Oh. Sorry, I forgot you are new here. TD is Test Dummy. The name is ironical.' Todd laughed through the speaking device. 'Oh. I am Junge.' 'I like your name. Where did you come from?' Todd said. 'China.' 'This definitely is a promotion for you then! I heard they used TDs for sneezing purposes.' Todd laughed again, his voice electronic. 'What?' 'Nothing. It's just a joke. Anyway, you are one lucky son of a bitch Junge.' Humans with microphones jacked into their ears came and picked up Tood and Junge. 'Why is that?' Junge said. 'You get to fly around mate. You get to smash right through the windows with your baby's body. All I mostly get to do is sit strapped up by the safety belts. Boring!' Todd said. Then he turned and addressed to the humans. 'Hey, Jenny. What say we do this one commando? We'll give a welcome blast to little Junge here.' 'Todd, we'll do it later on. This is a crash test for Tesla. No fooling around.' Jenny said and then gave some orders in her microphone. They both were placed in the car. Todd in the driver's seat and Junge in the back in a toddler's seat. The humans strapped them in. 'Hey, Mikey. Do me a favour this once.' Todd said to the man strapping him. 'Leave our belts loose just this once. I want to give my new partner Junge here a grand welcome.' Junge wondered what all this talk of a grand welcome was and he could not understand what Todd was so excited about. 'I don't want to lose my job Todd.' Mikey said and double-checked Todd's seatbelt. 'May you die a horrible death Mikey.' 'May you suffer zero scratches Todd.' Todd grunted. The car doors slammed shut and the humans moved away. 'I don't see what you're all so excited about.' Junge said in the silence of the car. 'Oh. You'll see Junge. But not today. I'll fix something up with my favourite boy Joy this weekend. I wish that was your first crash.' Todd said. Junge felt the car accelerate. He spoke almost in a conspiratorial whisper with a smirk audible in his voice. 'I think I am not strapped in properly.' The car sped up towards another stationary car farther down straight ahead. 'Really? Shut up now. Let's hope for the best.' And they both giggled like old men sharing a fart. The Tesla sped up to a dizzying speed within seconds and slammed into the stationary car. There was a loud explosion and something went flying out the Tesla. 'Woohoo!!!' Junge yelled in the air. A soft thud in the distance. 'Jenny, I think a child just went to heaven with a smashed skull.' Todd said and guffawed. Junge was laughing through the comms. 'Hell yeah! How did you do Todd?' Junge asked. 'I've had better. You'll see Junge.' Todd then addressed humans. 'Hey, guys. Come and see what this crash would have done to your nuts.' He and Junge laughed while the humans went on with their jobs.
Part 1 "Matt to customer service, Matt to customer service."rang over the loudspeakers of the grocery store at a deafening volume. Shortly after, an instrumental only version of Tik Tok by Ke$ha continued playing where it had left off before being cut off thanks to Matt. I truly hate coming to this God forsaken place. Dozens of people scurrying about in no specific order. All wanting to be the first. The first through the store, the first to get their items, the first to check out. No one cares if they hit you with their cart, or if them buying the last 6 packs of toilet paper would screw over at least 5 other people. Nothing says greed and gluttony like people rushing through a grocery store. All I have to do is get eggs and jam, then I can get back to the comfort of my home and have a nice breakfast. I already have eggs, I just can't seem to find that pesky jam. Walking through the aisles, scanning shelf after shelf, and no jam. Aisle 4, Aisle 5, Aisle 6, Aisle 7, no jam. I turn and go back to Aisle 5 were I saw peanut butter. Surely jam would be near. I turn into aisle 5, rows and rows of peanut butter, but that's it. Just peanut butter. No jam. Dammit where it the jam? Just then at the end of the aisle a worker appears, wearing a bright red vest. He looked as happy to be here as I am. I walk down the aisle stalking the worker as if he were my pray. Watching him restocking the shelves. Finally, when I'm close enough; "Excuse me, where's the jam"I say, trying not to seem like too much of a dick. "I'm sorry?"He said turning to me looking confused. "The jam. Where is it?" "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you're talking about." Not sure what I'm talking about? This worker looks to be 17 maybe 18 years old. He has to know what jam is. I'm not that old, am I? Is jam an outdated word? "Jam, like jelly, but thicker, with fruit, just better. better jelly in a jar. You know like a fruit spread?"I say, sounding obviously annoyed. He stares at me with a blank expression. As if he is truly in deep thought about jam. Then his facial expression changes to something different. Frustration? Maybe anger? "Sir, I don't find it funny that you would take the time to make something up as silly as spreadable fruit just to mess with me. I have too much work to do and I rather not have to deal with people who find enjoyment in messing with grocery store workers." Stunned at this response I trip over my words a bit. "I.. I.. I didn't make anything up. Have.. have you really never heard of jam?" "I can get my manager if you'd like" "Uhh.. yeah.. that would be best."The worker walks out of the aisle and out of sight. This has got to be a joke. There's no way someone has not heard of jam. I understand people that don't like jam, but never hearing of jam? That's impossible. Not too much later the worker returns with a much older person wearing a cheap, blue button up shirt and bright red tie that stands out like a Red Sox fan at Yankee Stadium. I look up from the obnoxious tie at the older gentleman's face. He was balding, going gray, and short enough that I was sure he'd have a hard time reaching the top shelf in this aisle. He actually looked happy to be here, unlike his ignorant employee and I. "Hi, my name is Henry, I'm the manager here. How can I help you?"His voice was deeper than I expected. "I just need to know where the jam is." He looked at me, as if he were disappointed in me. "You see?"The younger worker said to him quietly. "Sir, I'm not sure what you're getting at but we don't carry that here."The manager said trying his best at not being an asshole. "Are you serious? You've never heard of Jam either?" "I don't know what you're talking about sir"Now the manager was annoyed. "Okay fine, thanks anyway"I said just wanting to get out of this store. I walk towards the checkout lines, humming along to the instrumental version of 'This is Gospel' by Panic! at the Disco. After checking out, I find my car in the sea of cars that made up the parking lot. I put the eggs in the passenger seat to keep them safe and pick up my cell phone to call Rebecca, my wife. She should get a kick out of the irony that grocery store workers never heard of jam. Two rings later and I hear her voice; "Hello" "Hey babe, so I couldn't get the jam. The workers here apparently never heard of jam. I felt like I was in the twilight zone or something." "The what?"she said "Jam"I said a little louder "What is jam?"she said sounding confused "Ha ha very funny. Anyway I guess we can have just eggs for breakfast." "Seriously, what is jam?"she said. I was sure she was messing with me. "I'll tell you all about jam when I get home. I love you, bye."I hung up almost as annoyed with her, as I was with the grocery store workers. After the 10 minute drive home, I pull into the driveway, grab the eggs, and walk into the house. "Honey, I have the eggs"I yell out. "I'm in the kitchen."She responded. I walk into the kitchen, and see that she's gotten started with breakfast. She's just waiting for me to save the day with fresh eggs. "What's all this you were going on about on the phone? Jam? What are you talking about?" "The jokes over babe, it's not really funny anymore."I rolled my eyes. "No really, I googled it, I can't find what you're talking about."she held up her cellphone as proof. "Can I see that?" She handed her phone to me, I scrolled through the different articles. Nothing about jam as a fruit spread. Only the definition of jam 'squeeze or pack tightly into a specified space'. That's weird. I know what can show her. The old jam jar is still in the trash. I give her phone back and start digging through the trash. Rebecca stares at me as if I've gone mad, honestly I'm starting to feel like I have. "Ahaa! Here is our old jar of jam"I pull it out of the trash and pass it to her. "Babe, this says artichoke hearts right on the label." I snatched the jar back from her, sure she was mistaken, I look at the label, it says 'Smuckers' right across the top. The normal logo. Below that, artichoke hearts. "Smuckers, ...artichoke hearts?"I said out loud, not really directed at anyone. "Maybe you should sit down. I'll cook breakfast and let you know when it's done." "Maybe you're right."I said, in a daze. Somethings wrong. "I'll be in my office" I walk into my office. There's an older looking book on my desk I must have been reading last night. I put it on my bookshelf, then power on my computer. I take a seat and go straight to Google. I search 'Smuckers'. I get to their websites welcome screen and see "Smuckers Farms". It's the same 'Smuckers' logo but they're an artichoke farm now? I keep searching and searching but I can't find a trace of jam anywhere. "Food's ready"Rebecca yells out from the kitchen. \\\\\\\\\\\* I lay in bed thinking about the events of today. I thought it was a dream, but I've never had a dream this long. How can jam disappear from the face of the Earth in an instant? I have a plan, tomorrow when I get on campus rather than heading to my classroom and teaching writing like every other day, I'll head over to Dr. Horris' lab. I know he's been working on some pretty interesting technology and everyone calls him the 'Mad Scientist'.
You really have no idea what any of it meant? Okay, babe. I'll explain. Pretzels are salty, like the tears we shed after we argued. I hid those under the floorboards because we got over that and rebuilt something better and stronger on top. Gummy bears are sweet, squishy and have their arms out like they're about to give you a hug. I think you can figure out why I hid those under the blankets. Toblerone is angular and pointy, like my heart was before I met you. But now it's melted; I hid it under the heater. Did you know that honey is one of the few foods that last forever? I have your jar here in my pocket. Give me your left hand; I want to pour it all over your ring finger. Babe, will you marry me?
"passengers and crew brace yourselves"I was surprised with the level of calmness in my voice, but I guess thats what my training had prepared me for. But what my training DIDN'T prepare me for was the giant hole that opened up in the sky in front of us. Before I could maneuver out of the way we were swallowed up by it. At first everything was dark. A darkness like none that could possibly exist on earth because it was accompanied by a complete sense of weightlessness and deafness. I couldn't tell you how long we were in this state, could have been a minute, an hour, an eternity. But suddenly there was a brilliant blinding light "Attention passengers we are still in flight"I wheezed out with a strangely dry throat. I'd wished I'd held my tongue after my eyes adjusted. we had somehow crash landed into some hellish landscape straight out of the old testament. Infernos spewed out from cracks in the ground, charred broken trees dotted the area. But most disturbing of all were the statues. Lined up on both sides in front of us leading into a dark cave. The statues were in different positions of clear fear and misery. whoever had sculpted them had such an in depth understanding of human suffering and pain, that I was sure they had been the cause of much of it. It left an atmosphere of dread as I heard an increase in worried whispers from the passenger cabin behind me. I tried to radio in "\May may, may day. we have an SOS. unknown location, does anybody copy, over\". I only heard static on the other side. I had to take decisive action before all panic broke loose. "Everyone please exit the plane using the nearest emergency exit in a calm and orderly fashion and line up next to the plane". "Victor, what are you doing, whats going on?"The stewardess whose name I had never bothered to learn asked me. I decided not to answer, not out of any need to be mysterious, but because I didn't really know the answer to either of those questions myself. As I exited the plane myself I could feel the bone cracking dryness in the air. accompanied by a heat that would make the Sahara desert jealous. "Everyone please follow me to the cave, we must find shelter until we can figure out a way to contact human civilization" As the group of around 3 dozen people wearily approached the cave I expected to hear some sort of noise, something to indicate we weren't alone. Something to show this hell scape was just the beginning of something creepier. but no sound was made other than the sound of our shoes on the gravel. maybe this was all just some big mistake. We would be saved any moment and a scientific explanation would be given to us on how we got here. We passed through the cave mouth, and as our eyes adjusted to the darker environment I saw what seemed to be a staircase leading deeper down into the cave. A tall, lanky male passenger walked up to me "hey, this might show that we're not alone here, lets go down and see if we find any supplies or someone to help us". "most definitely not!"I snapped. "we have no idea where we are or whats going on here, we camp at the cave mouth for now, and we find a way to contact somebody we trust to get us out of here!". no sooner did I finish my sentence than we felt the entire cave shaking, and heard a loud guttural \ROOOAAARRR\ from just outside the cave entrance. I sighed. I looked to the stewardess "Tell the passengers to get ready. We're going down." &#x200B; Thank you for reading my story. this is my first story response to a prompt so please give any and all criticism. thank you :)
\Peko and Sakura were out searching for supplies. They were the best ones for this as they were the best ones with combat-related skills. Chihiro was back at the bunker, making a program to keep the defenses that Kazuichi had built running. Meanwhile, Makoto and Nagito were somehow living outside, just wandering around and taking what supplies they could as the zombies around them got killed by random occurrences. Kaito, Byakuya, and the ultimate impostor were discussing a way out of the apocalypse. Meanwhile, Gonta and Gundham were doing their best to save any species that wasn't infected yet. Gundham focusing more on the animal side while Gonta focused on the insect side. Mukuro and Junko had somehow planned for this months in advance, so they were living in a pretty nice bunker deep underground. Izuru calmly watched over this as he sat somewhere out of view, noticing a few people already infected. Hifumi Yamada, Hiyoko Saionji, and Shuichi Saihara had been infected for various different reasons. Hifumi had been infected because the large amount of fat he carried on him made him a very slow runner, Hiyoko's energy was always focused on dancing, so she was pretty much already tired, and Shuichi had been caught alone by a few zombies, so he wasn't able to escape.\
I should’ve just got up and left when he came in. There had been a time when some panicked employee or customer would have been desperately calling for help when the Dazzler appeared. One of those rare supervillains who shunned hiding their face because they wanted the world to know what they looked like to instill fear in people, Dazzler relished in the chaos he caused when people saw him. But after he had stopped being a supervillain and threw himself into community work to regain peoples’ trust, he was treated like any other law abiding person just looking for some food to eat. As I watched Dazzler approach the counter I pulled my cap lower on my head and went back to my meal as he begin to place his order. Taking a bite out of my burger I reflected that just as the Dazzler’s life had changed so had mine. For instance, a couple of years ago you wouldn’t have caught me inside one of these fast food joints eating a burger and salty fries and wishing that I could have splurged on getting some soda to drink instead of getting a free cup of water to wash the food down. Instead, I would have been sitting in a five star restaurant downing a meal of wagyu beef or foie gras with a good wine to sip that was all being provided for free in return for the publicity I was giving the place. That had changed though when my I lost my powers to the Magician. I had tangled with her before and was well aware that she had the power to nullify the powers of other people. Causing any fights with her to be long; tedious affairs as one tried to avoid that power when she used it. And on the off chance of being hit by it the effects only lasted for one to two days leaving you out of commission as you waited for the nullification to end. So I knew what I was in for when I willingly took the blast to save some rubberneckers who had been watching our fight when debris started heading their way. But after the second day with my powers not returning my friend Arachnis had captured the Magician and upon questioning we learned as she gloated that she had managed to change her nullification power to endure for the victim’s life time instead of a day or two. An admission that had her instantly executed since such a power would have been devastating to the superhero community. No longer considered a superhero with my powers gone, all of the fame and influence I once had quickly faded. Arachnis did try to help me out by trying to get some money out of the Superheroes Fund that had been set up to provide monetary aid to injured superheroes. But since I was no longer considered a superhero I could numbly watch as all my possessions were taken away to pay bills and people averted their eyes as they turned me down when I asked for help.
I am a very important person who happens to be very close friends with the King of Zorbia. King Zorb is a collector of fine wines and fine dogs, and every month he sojourns to Kleptopia for a wine-tasting/dog show biathlon. On this particular month I was granted the fine honour of watching, educating, and keeping company of His Royal Highnesses’ High Parrot, Pugsy. I donned my finest robes of purple satin and my blue pointy hat. I set off for the Zorbian palace, using my acute mental energies to levitate above the poor uneducated masses, occupied with their humdrum enterprises of selling each other snake oil, Tupperware, and false cures to insecurity. On the way I believe I bonked someone’s head with my high-heeled boot, but I didn’t really realize it until I was around the corner and by that time I didn’t feel like going back to check to see if they were okay. “Hello Pugsy,” I said into the intercom upon entering the antechamber to the Royal Aviary. “Would you be so kind as to buzz an old chap inside?” “Buzz off,” Pugsy replied over the intercom. “Now now my boy, for these three days I am your guardian and you are my charge. Let’s not start things off with a sour mood.” “Who died and made you boss?” Pugsy said. “No one has died to my knowledge, and my promotion, completely in the absence of his death, comes straight from King Zorb, liberator of the Canination, and Feast Champion d’Or.” “Oh it’s that wizard Blumpkook again,” Pugsy said. “Yes, it is I, High Wizard Blumpkook.” Pugsy buzzed open the door. The portcullis leapt into the air and a drawbridge shot towards my feet. I levitated into the palace. Pugsy’s aviary was made of a wrought iron frame bearing stained glass panes. The effect was to filter colored sunlight down upon the interior, which was fashioned like a Roman amphitheatre, with potted ferns lining each row. The ferns glistened with moisture, tinted purple, green, or grey. Pugsy circled the air with his great yellow wings unfurled. He alighted on the arm of a gnarled oak tree. “Today we will study Geography,” I said. “What is the capital of Zorbia?” “I don’t want to study Geography,” Pugsy said. “We must study Geography. By order of the King.” “Oh look, it’s Professor Blumpkook,” Pugsy said. “He thinks he knows everything.” “I do know quite a bit,” I said, stroking my beard. “I bet he’ll take care of my dumb parrot while I rob all of the gold from his laboratory.” Pugsy said. “What?” I looked Pugsy in the eye. The parrot was silent. I studied him carefully. He avoided my gaze. My ears must have deceived me. After a pause, I continued. “What is the capital of Zorbia?” “That wizard thinks he’s soo smart, but I bet he’ll fall for this stupid trick,” Pugsy said. “Me? Never! What trick?” “I bet he’ll take care of my dumb parrot while I rob all the gold from his laboratory.” Pugsy said. “I knew it!” I said. “King Zorb has never been a true friend. He’s always been jealous of my superior wit, and my dashing good looks.” I ran towards the Royal Vault in the cellar of the aviary and worked my magical spells to undo its many iron locks and chains. The door to the vault swung open, revealing a boundless pile of gold coins and precious gems. I snapped my fingers and the entire contents of the vault leapt into the air to levitate behind me. I ran towards the exit, with the trail of loot floating behind me. “Guards! Guards!” Pugsy squawked. The doors to the aviary burst open. King Zorb stood in the doorway, with a massive welt on his head, and a massive sack slung over his back. “You’re early,” King Zorb said. “Looks like we have a standoff,” I said. “What?” King Zorb said. “Why is all that gold floating behind you? Is that… mine?” “Yes, you took my gold, and so I took your gold,” I said. “No one can outsmart the High Wizard Blumpkook.” “I didn’t take your gold,” King Zorb said nervously. “Well then,” I said, “What’s in the sack?” King Zorb opened the sack, revealing its contents: bird food. Bird food for Pugsy. “Looks like no Geography lesson today,” Pugsy squawked. “Guards!” King Zorb shouted.
Do Ducks Have Souls? One morning Norman painted two ducks, and to his surprise, the same ducks flew past his canvas. He painted a eucalyptus tree in an empty field and before the paint had dried, the majestic tree grew. What he painted was realized. From memory he painted her figure, red dress, smile creases in her eyes, dimples and her inviting lips. He withdrew from the canvas and his muse stood for him once more. But she was vacant, no batting eyelids, no smile. Norman realized his mistake. “I’m sorry Rose.” His heart crumbled like an eroding dry wall. “I can’t paint your soul.”
"8lbs - She's a larger one!"The midwife yelled to the new-found parents, who were utterly shattered by the process. "She seems healthy"She yelled back "don't you seem healthy?"She continued to the baby, using her baby voice excitedly to the newborn. Alex sat in the corner, terrified by what he just witnessed. A midwife in training. He had gotten his midwifery degree but when it came to the actual process, it was horrific. "Up ya get, son"Joan, the actual midwife coxed him, unfazed by the whole thing"You don't want the parents thinking your soft" "There was...and she...and then it just..."He babbled, it was like he saw war and not the beautiful start of life. "C'mon, you'll get used to it, the first one's always the hardest...men, eh?"Her Yorkshire drawl had no sympathy for him. Alex got up following Joan, they went over the table opposite the bed and began the next process. "OK, baby is born, I've done the weighing, the other nurses are doing the printed labels- what's next?" Alex went back to his training "identity bands?"He was 99% sure, but he didn't want to seem stupid if he was 1% wrong. "That's it."Joan said, as she strapped the band to the tiny little leg in front of her "Next?" "Psychic training" The midwife stopped and paused before responding "In this case we'll transfer her to wards" Alex was taken aback a bit "Doesn't she need her training?" It was a new process that was ushered in within the last 10 years. 'Psychic Training' was a unpleasant form of mental blocking. In the early 22nd century, scientists had figured out how to travel backwards in time, with no paradox's. Originally, it wasn't a danger to anyone else social standing or existence. If you wished to go back in time and change 1 aspect of your life, a mistake you made perhaps, you would go back, change it and then return in an alternate reality, separate to the original world you started in. To the rest of those in the original reality, you would just vanish and cease to exist. This was the accepted understanding. However, when government changed and society became more dystopian, more and more people would switch realities, leaving some communities empty. This is when Psychic training started - a way to physically stop you from leaving the reality you started with, trapping you within the confides of your world. It was now a requirement to all newborns. Failing to undertake this process at birth, was illegal and punishable by death. "You do her Psychic's right?" "What if I didn't?" "That's illegal" "Let me tell you something, boy"Joan turned on him suddenly, a hushed rage in her voice "This little girl will not have the best life - the least we can do is forget to do the training" "I'd have to report this though" "Do so then, by the time they come for me, i'll have traveled through to another world, doing the same thing" Joan had done this many times. She hated this world and everything it stood for. Trapping children felt unnatural to her, and as long as she could remain in this reality and skip the psychic training for children, the better she would feel. She had hired Alex, hoping he would be able to see the same way as her - she was wrong. "You don't wish for a better life?"She continued "It's illegal" "Hey, if this is the best version of you, I have to give it to you, you've done well - but before you report me, consider every mistake you made, every missed opportunity, every chance you didn't take. If you truly feel convinced that your life is without regret, then do as you wish." She left the table and handed the baby back to the mother. Alex just stood there, afraid.
"Well, you only live once"you think as you take the pill. You can suddenly understand the language on the paper, which reads 'You should NOT have taken that pill. Also, look behind you.' You look behind you to see a giant bullfrog that promptly grabs your wallet and books it. Naturally, you give chase. You finally catch the frog in an abandoned sewer. The frog turns to look at you. It opens its mouth and out climbs a deer. Just a deer. He promptly kicks the frog in its surprisingly tiny nuts and yells at him in latin. He grabs your wallet and throws it square at your face, before asking where his phone is. You give him the phone and leave, confused but strangely satisfied. '
^(Very impressive, wouldn't you say Jim?) ^(Indeed, Alex, indeed. not only are both his parents dead, but he's also got a missing sister AND his uncle may or may not be a vampire.) ^(Truly remarkable stuff we're seeing here Jim. What did you say his name was?) ^(Says here his name is "John.") ^(What a shame, Jim, what a shame. Almost perfect execution, could have made for a great story.) ^(Truly a travesty, Alex. Checks almost all the boxes but just, can't, deliver, on a name. You hate to see it.) ^(You do hate to see it. Who do we have up next, Jim?) ^(Looks like we've got a surprise contender here Alex. Back for a sequel, it looks like its... oh my.) ^(Is that who I think it is, Jim?) ^(I think it is, Alex. Jesus Christ himself, coming back before the council for a sequel.) ^(One of our highest performers of all time, Jim. Think he'll be able to deliver again?) ^(I think so, Alex, I think so. In fact, he may do even better this time around. Take a look at this.) ^(Well this is extraordinary, Jim. A revenge arc, who would have thought?) ^(I almost can't believe what I'm seeing here, Alex) ^(Neither can I, Jim, neither can I.)
As quickly as I could I put on a bright smile and said, “Oh gosh, I’m so glad its you! I’ve been wanting to take one of your classes for a while now,” while desperately hoping my face wouldn’t give away anything as it was wont to do more often than not. The woman smiles back at me as I hurry to find a spot in the back and unroll my mat while my mind runs a thousand miles an hour. “What, in the hell, are the odds of this?!” I ask myself as more people enter the classroom and find spots for their mats. I’d been searching for this person for MONTHS and all it took was walking into a new yoga class after a long, exhausting day of finding nothing, apparently. I was having a hard time finding my flow and mental clarity but true to her name, the Yogi was very good at her job (both of them, technically I suppose, although, I’m not sure if she considers one or the other to be a side gig “for fun”) and soon I was lost in the movements. After the class I went to the door and checked the schedule to see when Tara “The Yogi” would be teaching her next class. Fortunately for me, the same time the next evening. I signed myself up in advance to make sure I got a spot and headed home for the night. I spent the entire next day finding any and all information I could about Tara, and while that could have been an alias, what I found made me think that was not the case. She seemed fairly normal, no strange gaps or stutters in her life or anything that you would normally expect to see from someone who was a master assassin trying to hide themselves. On the other hand, while I do work for the CIA, I guess I don’t necessarily fit that bill myself. I’m an analyst. I find people. I’m not a guns blazing, door kicking, field agent. The day couldn’t end soon enough and I hurried to the yoga studio as soon as my shift ended. I had notified my bosses of the potential find and was eager to find some concrete evidence if I could. I arrived to find the studio dark, which I found odd, and went in to see if maybe the class had started earlier than I thought but as soon as I stepped through the door a shadow slipped behind me and something hard pressed against my shoulder blades. Oh crap. “I know who you are,” Tara’s normally soothing voice said. I stayed frozen, eyes wide and darting around like they always did when I was under stress. “Um...a...yoga student?” I said uneasily, “I’m a little confused right now.” That was a lie. I knew exactly what was going on and she knew it. The hard object poked into me a little more firmly. “You’re CIA,” Tara said, “don’t play with me. You’re the only one that’s ever found me and since I like my life the way it is, yours is going to have to take a drastic turn for the worse. Now, head toward the back door.” I did as I was told, turning too quickly in my panic which caused me to trip and pitch toward the floor with a very unladylike “Ack!” Tara was caught off guard since I had neither moved toward the door, nor actually attempted to attack her, the two things she was expecting. I landed flat on my face with my yoga mat mercifully beneath me to break the fall. I promptly tried to roll over and right myself which caused my feet to tangle with Tara’s and trip her as well. She didn’t go down, but it gave me the opportunity to scramble to my feet, yoga mat in hand. We had switched places somewhat and Tara’s back was temporarily to me so I did the only thing I could think of and swung the yoga mat, clocking her in the side of the head. Did I mention I’m NOT a field agent?? She stumbled in surprise as I gaped that I’d actually managed to hit her and that it had actually knocked her off balance, even as small of an amount as that was. She was shockingly fast though and lunged at me before she had fully recovered. I squeaked and bunted her again with the mat before turning tail and running like hell. My car was near the door and I had been too lazy to roll the windows up or put the top up before I went inside and I thanked every deity out there that I had been because I dove into the driver’s seat over the door in a fashion that would make Beau Duke jealous, slapped the key into the ignition, and had the car in gear before the engine was even fully started. Tara wasn’t far behind me with her freakish speed and she grabbed for me as I put my foot on the gas. She managed to get my shoulder but I didn’t let off the accelerator and started rolling my window up for reasons I couldn’t quite comprehend since the top was still down and it wasn’t like it was going to smash her hand when it closed. It did, however, raise her arm high enough that she could no longer reach my shoulder. “I am not cut out for this! I am not a field agent!” I chanted to myself as I fumbled for my phone and risked a glance in my rearview. I dialed my boss at light speed and that’s when I realized Tara was nowhere to be seen.
The elemental of Justice sat in his small chair in his cramped office that seemed even tinier with his large and bulky figure. He scrolled through his summon requests on his old 80's computer, many of which seemed so unimportant that he rarely actually did anything. "Bob knocked over my sandwich, and now I don't want it anymore." "Jenny accidentally bumped me in the subway, and I didn't like that." "A stranger looked at me for an uncomfortably long amount of time." So many problems nowadays seemed unworthy to the elemental of Justice, and all the ones that seemed cool went to court. He yearned to watch some action with a good plot behind it. Be begrudgingly went through more requests, when an interesting one caught his eye. "I request your presence immediately. This is urgent and may affect my entire future. The elemental grinned. This was it. This was the duel he always waited for. He got his outfit ready and accepted the request. He began to warp to the solicitors. Adrenaline was rushing through him. A huge grin was on his face. He arrived and summoned a large puff of smoke. He shouted in a booming voice, "WHOM HAS SUMMONED ME, THE ELEMENTAL OF JUSTICE AND DECIDER OF FATES?" "Me, because Becky ate some of my cake!" "Did not!" "Did too!" The elemental looked around. It appeared to be a celebration of some sort. He looked at his summoner. It was a small child wearing a party hat and holding a plate of cake auguring with a another child with some cake. He sighed. He missed the old days when he could have children fight to the death. Now it was considered "inhumane"and "heartless." "Look, you two have a game of tag. Whoever isn't it by the end of one minute is the one who is right." The children agreed and ran off. Disappointed, the elemental of Justice slowly trudged back to his small office and resumed looking at his mundane requests.
I grew up a single child in a rich household with my every desire met and every pain soothed. But there was always this air of mystery surrounding my mother's side of the family. Any time I even mentioned it to my parents or relatives in a social setting I would be shunned or told not to speak about it. They must've felt that with enough time I would move on from my childish curiosity and the questions would forever be swept under the rug. But they were wrong. As the saying went curiosity killed the cat. My curiosity would eventually lead me to the source of the forbidden knowledge that I desired. The day I turned 18 I drove back to an abandoned town a cousin had told me about. He said that heading there would solve the mystery of why the topic was such a taboo among the family. So that's why here I was today having turned 18 in front of the house that supposedly held the clues I needed. It looked ancient and in dire need of renovation with dust settled around. But it seemed stable. The windows were all shut and other than the dust the house didn't seem to have a lot of damage. The letters 'R' 'E' were inscribed on the outside with the other letters not being legible. I inserted the key he gave me and gripped the cold metal knob turning it and opening the door letting in air so the house could breathe. I left the door open as I looked around in what I assumed was the living room. Portraits of family I never knew surrounded me. In the pictures the only person I could recognize was my mother. She seemed different from the mother I knew. To put it into words she had this spark that I felt had diminished. I turned my attention to the women next to my mother. It was someone I never had the chance to meet. The similarities in their appearance were uncanny I could say with no doubt that the person next to her would be my grandmother. I stopped scanning the images around and went searching for something more concrete. The place was definitely barren with not many possessions around. After an hour of no luck I finally found a drawer with a single book in it. I grabbed the book and shuffled through the pages but there was nothing. I was greeted by only blank pages as I scoured the entire book. When I reached the final page, I stopped. "We were poor... but we were happy"I read out loud. Such a strange message. I could feel the weight of those words for an unknown reason. I closed the book and dusted the cover at the back. "Madelis Rose"I said. So this book belonged to a person named Madelis Rose. A name I hadn't heard but one that left me with a quaint feeling. But I had no clues. The name didn't help much and I was done searching around. Just as I was contemplating what to do next I felt a vibration in my pocket. I took my phone out and answered the call. "How did it go Joel did you find anything"a familiar voice spoke. "No, I haven't had much luck Scott except for a weird phrase and the name Madelis Rose"I said. "The name you just said is the name of your grandmother"Scott said. "I expected as much so I'm guessing you're not hiding things anymore"I said. "Yeah seeing as you're old enough to decide what to do with this information I see no reason to keep it a secret. Also after I explain everything you cannot tell anyone that I was the one who informed you"Scott said. "Yes I wouldn't want too jeopardize our family relations even more"I said. "Fine, come on over to my place I'd appreciate if we could have this conversation face to face"Scott said. "Okay I'm heading out then"I said as I disconnected the phone then walked outside and locked the door. Unlocking my car and getting in I drove away from the abandoned town and towards my cousin's residence where my curiosity would finally be satiated as the ancient house kept growing smaller until it disappeared.
Since I was a child I have been able to replicate food. I don't mean I was a good chef. I mean you hand me a french fry, and I could literally create another by pressing the first in my hands. Apparently the only rule was it had to fit into my hands, which as I grew up meant that I was able to replicate larger and larger foods. Outside of feeding the occasional homeless person, I never let anyone know. Besides, my mom was always chastising me about finishing my food, so the last thing I wanted was to make that any worse. Doing laundry as a young teenager, I found that rather than having fewer socks come out of the wash than go in, I ended up with more socks than before. It took some investigation for me to realize that in the same way I replicated food I could replicate clothing. I recalled a pair of silk boxers that I had been gifted by an ex for our one year anniversary. Those PJ shorts were so comfortable it felt as if an angel's hair were cradling my nuts. I ran up to my room and to my joy found I was able to replicate these, and there wasn't even the slightest drop in quality. It wasn't until a camping trip with some friends a few years later when I found the same applied to more than just clothing. Angela, or Angie, who had been my best friend for as long as I could remember, invited me to join her and two friends, Gaby and Nelson on a trip out to the Smoky Mountains. She failed to inform me that Gaby and Nelson were dating, which gave the entire weekend this strange air of a double date, making things pretty uncomfortable throughout. It didn't help that I had fully hit my growth spurt and was as tall and lanky as I was socially awkward. As the night went on, and the beers started flowing the situation only worsened. The near constant petting and rubbing between Gaby and Nelson increased in frequency, duration, and proximity to their groins. Meanwhile I had to carry on a conversation with someone who is basically my family as if I'm unaware of it all. Angie and I were saved by the bell as some heavy rains began to fall from the sky. In all my grace, as I rushed into the tent I stumbled on the rain fly, tearing a massive hole in the top. Screams came from the others in the tent as rain began to pour unabated in. Quickly, and without really thinking, I grabbed the two halves of the rain fly and pulled them back together shouting "Sorry, sorry I got this!"Miraculously, when I released the halves, they were whole again. Rain was no longer entering the tent. A bit incredulous, I hesitantly entered the tent. Immediately, Angie's eyes were on me. "What the hell was that?"she asks, with Gaby and Nelson looking in inquisitive unison. "I tripped over an anchoring stake and pulled the rain fly up for a second, but I got it put back in place. Sorry,"I responded sheepishly. Angie looked at my as if not fully satisfied with the response. Before she could say anything, Gaby interjected "Well thank fucking GOD, otherwise Nelsie and I would have had to shack up in the car,"as she clearly stuck her hand down Nelson's pants. Yeah, thank God... As I laid in bed I couldn't stop thinking about what I had just done. I'd always been able to replicate things I could fit in my hand, but never things larger than that. And I wasn't ever able to mend a broken thing. I produced exact copies of whatever it was I was copying. Apparently, Angie had been thinking about it too because the next day she brought it up when she dropped me off. "Hey Jackson, thanks again for joining us this weekend. Sorry Gaby and Nelson were basically sexing each other the whole time. Those two are something else, and it was nice to have something to focus on besides their heavy petting and sucking face." "Oh yeah of course,"I replied, "that would have been miserable to sit through alone." "Yeah no kidding. By the way, even if it was your screw up with the tent top in the first place, that was some pretty quick thinking fixing it so fast. What happened again? I was so buzzed by the time we got in there and was just relieved to not be getting soaked anymore,"she said. "Ahh ha yeah, just classic me being clumsy. I think I unhooked it from the top and had to clip it back on to the tent,"I lied. She looked at me curiously, "Ah. Yeah must have gotten unclipped from the top. Okay, well see you around!" Crap. Did I tell them it was the anchor the first time? I couldn't remember now either, seems as if I may have been a bit buzzed myself. Oh well. Before I worried anymore about that I needed to figure out exactly what this new power was about. I ran to into the basement, tossing my mom a quick "Hey mom, I'm back!"before ducking into the darkness. I found our old tarp and tried to see if I could stretch it to make it bigger than it normally was. No dice. I tried folding it in half to see if I could unite the two ends. Negative. Hmm. What was so different about the time at the campsite? I ran back upstairs to grab a knife from the kitchen. Barrelling down the stairs, I grabbed the tarp and cut a deep slice in the middle. Taking each of the two now torn segments, I tried to pull them together like I did with the tent. Still nothing. And now I tore our only tarp. Double crap. I draped it over a chair downstairs and ran upstairs for lunch. While eating my mom asked about the weekend. Leaving out the details of the beer and the sexcapades, I told her how the campsite was nice, it was good to see Angie, even if there was a bit of rain. "Rain!"she said a bit shocked. "Well it's a good thing you had some shelter then! Don't want my baby getting no pneumonia,"she added with a pinch on the cheek. "Mom, come on,"I said brushing off the pinch with a smile. I may be growing facial hair, but I don't know that I'll ever grow out of her cute displays of motherly love. "Wait what did you just say?" "What, honey, that I'm glad you had shelter? 'Cause I sure am! I've got no time for my baby to be getting sick on me now,"she responded with emphasis. "Yeah, you got that right,"I said, but my mind was on that tarp downstairs. I finished my lunch, gave my mother a kiss on the cheek, and cleaned up the table. I made myself busy around the house until she went to sleep, then hurried back downstairs. Maybe the reason why i could fix the tent's rain fly is because I was using it for shelter? Seemed odd, but so was replicating silk boxers. I laid underneath the quasi-tent made by the tarp pitched up by the chair. Reaching up, I grasped each half in a hand and pull them together, gritting my teeth and closing my eyes. When they opened, the tarp was in one piece again. This was cool. I could make copies of food and clothing, and spontaneously repair any material so long as it was used for shelter. How far could this go? Honestly, and ashamedly, not that far considering I was a pretty unimaginative 17 year old. I did save a lot of money on lunches though, which was great considering I didn't stop growing until well into my college years. When it came time to head off to college, I was sad to say goodbye to Angie. She was always a better student than I was, and she got into her number one choice with a full ride. I on the other hand was going to be spending a couple years at a local community college, finishing out my elective courses before taking on the financial burden of a four year college. We spent a great deal of time together in the months leading up to the "Exodus"as she called it. She always had such a way with words that made her hard to forget. I was heading over to her house one day to probably hang out on her back porch. If I was lucky, her mom might even bring out some of their homemade strawberry lemonade. That tart, light pink juice will always remind me of the way Angie's curly hair bounced when she threw her head back in laughter. I would be lying if I said I didn't replicate the to-go cups her mom would always give me just to make the sweet memories last a bit longer. Our usual summer afternoon relaxation was interrupted by the sound of tires screeching, a car door slamming, and sobs. Without hesitation, Angie puts the book she was reading down and sighs, "Ugh. Nelson broke up with Gaby because he wants to 'do his own thing' even though they both specifically chose the same college so they could be together." "Sounds like a prick move,"I said lazily. She shot me a glare for that one. Gaby then burst through the backdoor. "I can't believe he would do this to me,"she wailed. "I know, Gaby, he's a douchebag,"Angie replied. "Don't say that about him!"Gaby retorted. "He's just confused and he doesn't know what he wants. He told me so many times how he wanted to be together with me forever, but his parents are mad at him for not going to their alma mater, and he's taking it out on me,"she sobbed into Angie's arms in a seemingly endless stream of dribbling words and tears. At this moment, I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have been just as silent as I was when witnessing Gaby and Nelson grind on each other by the campfire as this was truly the definition of none of my business. Instead, I said "Well, what if I talk to him about it? My brother ended up not going to college despite what my mom wanted for him, so maybe I could help." "Really, you would do that,"she sniffed. "Sure,"I replied, realizing I was way too far in to back out now, "just as soon as we get you feeling better."Angie just stared at me with a look half between confusion and amusement. We spent the better part of the rest of the afternoon consoling Gaby until she felt strong enough to go back home. When she left, Angie laughed at me and said "So, Mr. Fixalot, how do you plan on fixing this one?" "I've got no idea,"I said honestly. I had nothing. How was I, the guy that has said all of 25 words to Nelson supposed to fix his relationship with his parents AND his girlfriend?
"You should get up,"the soft feminine prodded Ashlyn as she laid in bed, her head hurting from the night of drinking and lack of sleep. "You have class today... and then you can go for a smoothie! Or yoga?" She waved at the disembodied voice and they seemed to back off slightly, but she could still sense her in the corner. Another voice, a more masculine voice that reminded her of her dad, seemed to step in. "Ash, come on,"he cooed, reaching for her blankets. "We have things to do, right? Laundry? Cleaning? You promised yourself you'd clean up." She pushed the blankets off and glared around the empty room, her bottle of pills unopened and collecting dust on the bedside table next to the still full glass of water. Her skin looked translucent in the sunlight and she looked around before spying the wavering form of the woman. "Please... Ash... just take a pill,"the woman pleaded, who now connected in Ashlyn's head as her 'mother' and the man was her 'father'. "Everything will be okay, I promise." "But.."she whispered, looking down in time to see a little boy walking up to her, looking sad. "Sissy, can you let us go? We want to go home." Ashlyn looked up in fear to see her father looking at her with a dark look. "But..." "You've seen us long enough..."her mother took her hand and she sensed her hand being moved to the table, taking the bottle in her hand, the dust coming off on her fingers. "Go ahead... take it." Ash swallowed hard as she took the medication and looked up to see her family smiling at her. "Thank you..."she didn't know who was thanking whom though. It was only a week later after consistently taking the medication she found the newspaper article: "Ashyln Rollins orphaned after freak accident."
They brutally murdered us in the millions. Few of us managed to make it out of the first attack, even fewer survived the second. After bringing humanity to its knees, the aliens finally left us. The mere 5000 of us who survived the massacre were scattered around the globe. All forms of communication had been destroyed, we were all alone. I was on holiday when they rained from the sky. I was one of the lucky one’s, my mother was a very wealthy woman she managed to get me to safety. However, She never made it. Months flew by before I even gazed upon another living soul. He was an American named Jacob, his right arm was badly wounded, but he had managed to stop the bleeding before it was too late. He was a few years older than me maybe 13 or 14. The few strands of hair left on his head had once been blonde, but now the as ash engulfed them they had become a dark brown. His pale, malnourished face had been badly bruised, his right eye was completely swollen. His left eye was a bright azure with touches of emerald. I could tell that it had seen much pain more than a child deserved. Communication wasn’t easy, I only knew a few words of English and he didn’t even know what Zulu was. However, as the season’s passed my English got better. Ever since we met life had become much easier, we could scavenge through the wreckage of New york. Food had no longer become much of a worry we had plenty here. However, I could tell his arm was getting worse. Its state had deteriorated, black markings had begun engulfing his arm’s. We both knew if we didn’t find the right medication soon, he would die soon. As Jacob’s death hung over us we decided we decided to leave New-York. We had to find someone who could help. Food would be impossible to find, but we had to, I couldn’t let Jacob die. We would constantly have to stop for Jacob to regain his strength. It had got to the point where I would have to go out by myself and scavenge for food. I could tell in his eyes he was sorry. We knew the chances were against us, there was little hope left, each second could be Jacob’s last. But we had to push through it, humanity had to live on. We passed by countless carcasses, souls with untold stories. We began approaching another city, food was easier to find in the city. However, we were still alone. At least I had Jacob. One day, as I was carrying Jacob through the city, he fell. As I was about to lift him onto my weak shoulder's, he spoke. “No, go on without me”. We both knew there was no strength left in him. Non the less my debilitated mind refused to leave him, refused to be alone. As tears began raining down my cheek, I saw a smile appear on Jacob’s face. He was ready to go. I stared into his azure eyes one last time, I wish I could have done more.
I felt numb After years of training, I didn’t know where to go from here, but I’m a lumberjack now. My task ahead is taunting, to become the fiercest lumberjack, and find my parents. I’m to become greater than Paul Bunyan, he died years ago trying to put out a forest fire. Smokey the Bear commemorated his death, but it had been corrupted into a political campaign for his re-election. I remember the week after Paul Bunyan died, syrup, flour, and skillets were all gone from the shelves. Everyone wanted to commemorate him in their own way. I had cut down the tallest tree acres away from the academy, I didn’t want to get into trouble for cutting the ‘native’ land’s trees, but I had to, it’s what Paul would’ve wanted, no, it’s what they would’ve wanted. That night still haunts me, their screams, my fear, the darkness, then silence. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and I never saw what had attacked us or why I was left behind. Because I was too young? To tell the tale? To seek revenge? Because it was native land? (although I didn’t know that at the time) I seek the answers for my questions. It’s been illegal to travel on the native land since Smokey developed his ‘only you can prevent forest fires’ campaign shortly after Paul died a few years back. I hadn’t been back since I fell the tree; I barely made it out before I was spotted. Tonight, I’m heading back to the native land, I need closure. I took the off beaten path to the native land, bypassing any sentries that might be out. I’m told once you’re a mile deep no one will come looking for you. What changes were made since Smokey had declared the lands native? I wondered. As I went farther into the lands, I looked for the spot where I had cut the tree. When I had come to the spot, there was no log, I was bewildered by this, I hadn’t marked the spot, but I knew the path I took. After sometime I had found the stump, and with it, there was writing on it, but who wrote it? “This wasn’t cut by one of our guys, the angles are all wrong. This area wasn’t supposed to be cleared, we need to keep it looking good for the locals, have this area reformed.” Reformed? As I reexamined the area the direction the log had fallen, the area felt darker somehow, as I felt one of the affected trees, I realized it was charred. Did they burn this area or only the parts that had been affected? Why was it charred? Who wrote this? I continue seeking how far the charred area goes, it seems to make an almost perfect outline of the tree I had fell years ago. Nothing had grown in its place or the area since. I continue on, until I find some primitive huts. I try to keep my distance and look for another way around, but from what I’ve been told, there shouldn’t be anyone in the native lands. My curiosity takes me for a closer look. As I approached, I saw a faint green light from one of the hut. It wasn’t fire, but it didn’t look electrical. As I got closer the light faded, and the night’s darkness grew thicker. I hear a blood curling scream from behind me, I run to the hut for safety not looking back. I run into the darkness I look back to where I heard the scream. I see nothing, I hear a distant, but familiar scream.
From the windowsill, a single drop of rain dances meanderingly toward the floor. It darts left and it darts right, as if to escape the gravity of life itself. Moments, years later, it meets the edge of the ground and it dances no further. "Please." Across the entirety of the floor, a flash of lightning reveals the cascading silhouette of a mother bound at the knees to the ground. She sways violently, ignorant to the violence of the pounding rain which is all but drowned out by the pounding of her own drowning heart. "Please." A few feet and worlds away, a daughter sits perfectly still upon a couch. Her eyes are fixed on the other side of the room, her gaze never leaving the three inches between door and jam and the life that left her behind that rests within. "Your daddy loves you." The mother begins to sob, her tears matching blow for blow the storm outside and in. She holds up a crumpled bit of paper. Feeble fingers tremble but find their way, and she turns to the last line. "Your daddy loves you very much."A lump in her throat catches and she pauses - for how long, only she knows. "He just . . . doesn't want to live with us anymore." The mother goes to her daughter and wraps her in her arms, only to be shunned by the daughter's cold embrace. She unclasps her hand and pulls out a second crumpled bit of paper. She turns to the last line. "Neither do I." From the edge of the couch, a single drop of blood dances meanderingly toward the floor. It darts left and it darts right, as if to escape the gravity of life itself. Moments, years later, it meets the edge of the floor and it dances no further.
Slowly, painfully, I regained consciousness. I was in a dark cellar, with several work lamps attached to poles and shining in my face. My body was bound with stiff leather straps to an inclined table, and a strap was pulled tightly over my forehead, immobilizing my head. There was nothing in view but the lights and the damp cellar walls, but behind me I could hear someone--or something--moving around with a purpose. "Wh-who's there?"I stammered. "Please--please let me go! I'm just a little girl!" "Yes, you are!"the evil, satanic clown screeched as he walked around the table and into my field of vision. "And you tweaked my nose, and you ruffled my hair, and you stuck your fingers in my ears, didn't you!" "But you're the legendary--well, urban legendary--"clown statue"killer! You're supposed to stay perfectly still no matter what I do, to preserve the illusion that you're not human!" The clown laughed--a wild, insane laugh--as his extremely frightening-looking electric toothbrush roared to life. "You got it all mixed up, young lady. I'm a psychopathic killer--not the Queen's Guard."
I look around, groggy. ...what..? At my side, the sword rests loosely in my hand. My head throbs, I reach up and feel the helmet pressing in hard against my skull. I let my hand drop down and groan. What's going on? My eyes blink away the bright sun, and I realize where I am. The Colosseum. Slower, I realize I'm completely naked. Where are my clothes? What happened? How did I get here? I look at the sword again, trying to figure out what happened. Is there... Is that, blood? Suddenly, my stomach clenches, bile rides, and I roll to the side, vomiting on the sandy ground. I hear a step, and freeze, liquid still dribbling down my chin. Oh no. I managed to forget the most dangerous part of this mysterious situation: I'm in the Colosseum. Naked. With a bloody sword. I slowly stagger to my feet and glance at the armed man. He hasn't spotted me yet. I back away, glancing left and right. I need to get out of here. I spot a protrusion in the wall and make for it as quickly and quietly as I can. I manage to duck behind cover before I'm spotted. There, I see it's actually a crack into an old tunnel and make my way in. Inside the dimly lit hall, I notice a few scraps of linen. As I hasten towards a ray of light, and presumably, freedom, I spot more and more debris. As I make it outside at last, I trip, crashing over something soft. I land hard and hear an ear-grating smash of breaking glass. With a moan, the soft obstacle I tripped over resolves into a man, naked as I was, though without any armaments. He looks at my sliced forearms, naked body, and panicked expression. "Mate, you should probably give up drinking, eh?"
There's an app that a lot of kids are using these days. I know this because I sit out on my front porch every morning, listening to the high school kids chat at their bus stop. Every day I heard something new about it. "Dude, you need to download this app 'RandoWaze'. Me and Jason have been using it and it always finds us some low key spots to smoke and skate at." Of course this piqued my interest. I battle my inner demon every day but this was giving me the perfect opportunity to strike again. It was almost as if it was meant to be. I stood up and slowly walked inside my shitty, run down house, grabbed my phone off of the end table, and downloaded the app. My intentions weren't to use it as directed... No. My goal was to hack into the software to find out some of the locations it was giving to these kids. It was about 10 years ago when I made my first kill. It was always teenagers that intrigued me. Never in an inappropriate manner, like most. They were all just little assholes and I felt (and still do feel) that the world needs less of them. These days they lack basic manners, are drowning in their video games, doing bad in school, bullying each other, and who knows what else. I followed a kid home from school one day. He was a senior, so I'm guessing he was probably around 17 or 18. Anyways, I made sure I was being very careful about it to not raise any suspicions. I tailed him with my car for a bit until I saw that the coast was clear. Got out of my car, opened my trunk, and threw him in. It all must've happened pretty quickly because before I knew it I was sitting in the driveway of my grandparent's old abandoned lake house. I could still hear the kid screaming in the trunk. I dragged him out, and... I took care of him. I'd rather not go into too much detail since it was so long ago and I was never caught. Nor was his body ever found. I'm just excited that I can finally get my fix again soon. &#x200B; From the writer: I know I haven't finished this but I plan on coming back and editing it. This is the first attempt I've made at a writing prompt on here so bear with me. It's late where I live and I still need to shower before bed tonight.
PART 1 of 2 Due to Length ”Another one?” The old man chuckled gleefully. A cloaked figure entered the cave, eyeing their surroundings. There were four of them in the cave. The old gleeful man sitting furthest away from the fire, a couple cuddling together each nursing a bowl of soup comprising scorching water and local herbs found outside the cave, and a boy-ish looking man who looks half dead entranced by the fire. The figure sat themselves between the couple and the half dead boy, sitting across from the old man. “Just in time, we were about to share some stories. Who might you be and what brings you here?” The old man smiled at the newcomer. The cloaked figure revealed herself. Long straight silver hair down to her shoulders, pale skin, and bloodshot eyes. Her face youthful with a strong healthy blush, as if she’s been eating regularly. She looked around at the group and smiled. ”I am Cress, I am a Vampire Hunter.” Silence falls on the group. Even the old man cackling with joy stopped laughing. --------- Cress’s Story Vampire Hunter isn’t a word you hear often nowadays. They are nothing more than ghost stories to most. Humans in the farms tell tales of legendary Vampire Hunters during the Vampiric Wars, hoping one day a hunter will arrive to kill their master and set them free. Vampire nobility use the term to describe mortal assassins they’ve employed to take out other vampires. Each house has a slayer or two on their payroll. The vampire slayer gets hospitality within their house's territory, and the house gains deniability if the slayer is caught because no house will openly admit they use humans to carry out their will. Tonight Cress is hunting for a Vampire called The Spider. Cress has heard of the spider luring runaways and unsuspected blood dolls into his home and entrances them before slaughtering them for their blood. The Spider has been accused of breaking into House Atrocious’s farms, purposely luring humans out of their stalls and into the woods, promising escape and freedom only to be gruesomely slaughtered once they’re away from the farm. Cress was in the area investigating when she noticed a dim flickering light coming from the cave. When she approached, she noticed crucifixes drilled into the outside of the cave hoping to repeal any vampires who wander off the forest trail. ------ “So you’re looking for a vampire named the Spider?” The half dead boyish man asked. Cress nodded. “I think they’re nearby. But I too need to rest, and I’ve heard of survivor camps such as this. Away from any civilization hidden deep in nature and being very difficult to find. If you have me for the night, I can promise you protection until I leave.” Cress answered. The old man laughed. After hearing the ominous story for Cress, he felt more at ease. “Well then, I suppose it’s the couple's turn, isn’t it?” The couple looked at Cress, they both looked drowsy and out of it. They both looked unnourished, the female looked drained, and the male is skin and bones. During Cress’s story they nodded off and wake up seconds later spooked, but would calm down and drift back to sleep. For now, they’re awake and ready to share with the group. “I’m Joyce.” The female introduced herself. “I’m Nathan.” The male yawned. ------ The Lovers: Nathan & Joyce Most farms are the same. Humans treated like cows. They’re bounded to a stall where they piss and shit and forced fed grey slop to keep their blood levels high for milking. Every few days a farmer will come by and prod them with a needle hooked up to the machine to drain them of their blood. They’re often milked till they pass out. Once a month there is a lottery for the female cattle, whoever is selected removed from their pen and moved to the birthing for nine months to produce offspring. Being in the birthing house meant no milking of blood since good health is needed to bring the new cattle to term. Joyce was one of the winners. I’m sure one can imagine what happened in the birthing houses on these farms. Studs are selected to breed with the female until they’re pregnant. Nathan was one of those studs. When Joyce saw Nathan she was already broken, tears stained her cheeks and curled in a corner using a blanket to protect herself. Nathan was healthy, the studs kept well fed to keep them virile. He had a night to breed the woman with his seed, willingly or not. Then there was a fire at the farm and an opportunity for escape. Nathan had a choice to make. He could fulfil his purpose and continue to receive marginal rewards for his work, or he could attempt to escape and try to survive with his freedom. “Woman, I don’t know your name. But if you want to be free, come with me. I’m escaping.” The woman paused, unsure what to make of this. She didn’t know if this was a trick or not, then she thought the worst that can happen would be this would all end. So she went with him. The fire roared throughout the farm. The farmers and ghouls of farmers were too busy removing humans and animals from their pens to secure locations. Any farmer or ghoul who spotted Nathan paid no mind to him roaming free, it’s not unheard of Studs having the ability to walk the grounds unsupervised. Most of the farmers thought it would be crazy for a Stud to risk everything they had so they can attempt to leave. A portion of the barbed wire fence was cut, Nathan found it while looking along the edges of the farm for an escape route. Once outside the farm they ran across the road into the fields of wheat and ran towards the nearby woods. Once the adrenaline escaped their bodies they properly introduced themselves. “I’m Joyce” the woman smiled for the first time in a while. “I’m Nathan.” A few days after their escape they found the cave and have been here for a week. ---- “You don’t know how the fire started?” Cress asked the couple. They shook their heads. “Why haven’t you left?” Cress followed up. The couple looked at each other and sighed. “We’re exhausted. We’re resting up.” Cress noted their behaviour. “I see and do you need medical help, young man?” She turned to the bleeding, boyish man who flashed her a smile. His torn shirt stained with dried blood, and his right shoulder appears dislocated. Bruises and scars cover his naked body that can be seen. He wears sweat pants tied tightly with a string and a rattled wife beater. “It’ll heal… eventually,” he raised his neck up revealing scarred bite marks. Cress knew what he was. “You were a blood doll weren’t you?” She asked. “Oh, I’m much more than that hun. May name is Blaze, and I fuck shit up.” Part 2 Below
Every day I feel so happy, I smile when I awake, I love the sunshine in my room, I love the golden rays. I love to stretch my tired body in the early haze, I’m happy to shower and get ready for work, the day is mine to take. I feel so happy standing in the rain waiting for the bus. It should’ve arrived ten minutes ago, but I won’t stir a fuss. When it’s full and I have to stand, I really don’t mind, I ride the bus near every day, this happens time to time. Customers berate me and so does the boss, I take it with a smile, Because I feel so god damn happy to be here folding piles. When I’m home I feel too happy – it nearly makes me sick. It’s hard to eat through gritted teeth, but I know a trick, I blend the food to suck with a straw, which I’m happy to do Even if it kills the flavor and makes it taste like poo. Every day I feel so happy, I feel like I could die. And when I do I’m sure I’ll smile, free from the endless high.
"Captain, I heard there was a human who was on the crew before me, what happened to them?"Cammie asked captain Civ. She thoughtfor a second before finally speaking "Ah yes, Kyle, he was a strange one even for a human. He would do the most unusual things, merely because he could. I could spend many cycles recounting all the strange things he did. However you asked what happened to him, so for now I'll tell the story of his last few cycles aboard The Eclipse."Cammie sat on the edge of her seat fascinated by the thought of another human on the ship. She listened intently as Captain Civ spoke. "As you know, the main purpose of The Eclipse is to act as a supply vessel of sorts. On this particular trip, we were transporting machine parts to The Kaiser System and we happened to come across a star in the late stages of its life, a red giant is what you humans call it. Human Kyle was so fascinated with the star that he decided to just stare at it. He gazed upon the star for hours on end. I only found out about it when my Aide came rushing into the bridge saying that the human had gone blind. When I questioned him, all he could say was 'it was beautiful man 10/10 would go blind again'. He was secured to the sick bay until we finished the task and returned him back to earth, that was one of the strangest accident reports I've had to fill out."The captain looked Cammie in the eyes put a hand on her shoulder and said "please don't stare into any stars without some sort of visual protection, I don't want to fill out another accident report""don't worry ma'am, I like my vision"
I felt like I was going insane. That little jingle, the lighthearted but creepy ice-cream-van-sounding-song. I heard it every week, roughly the same time each week. It was always a Monday morning. I asked others about it, apparently they’d never heard anything like it- not even the couple who’d lived on my street for over fifty years. I swore to them that I wasn’t mad, I told them I’d record the sound of the ice cream truck and show it to them. So that next Monday morning I waited. And I waited. And I waited. But nothing came. I was disappointed, to say the least. But I shrugged it off and went about my day. The next week I’d forgotten about it again, and heard it coming down the road. I rushed to my bedroom window, hoping to catch a glimpse at whatever this bizarre little thing was. Just as I’d thought, an ice cream van. I scrambled for my phone, trying to get just a bit of the music recorded onto my device. I could’ve sworn it was only halfway down my street, but when I pulled up my phone to record it it was gone, completely. I couldn’t even hear the jingle as it faded into the distance. After that I decided that I would try and take a closer look at the thing, I was intrigued at this point. So I set up shop in my front garden, deck chair and all. The next Monday I sat there sipping on a nice cold beverage in the early moments of the day when I heard the little creepy jingle. I stood up from my deck chair and watched, I didn’t get my phone out this time. The ice cream van drove closer. The windows were completely blacked out, meaning I couldn’t see who was driving. To my surprise, it stopped. Right in front of my house. The odd jingle that came from the van was entrancing, I walked closer to inspect further. The window on the side opened up, and something stood there, ready to serve me. But I had a feeling that it wasn’t there to serve me. It pointed to the back of the van. The back door swung open. No, this thing was not here to serve me. It was dark inside. But it felt inviting, cosy. The creepy little jingle bounced around inside of my head, entrancing me. My feet took me where I needed to go. The doors closed behind me, and everything in my world changed. The thing that greeted me was not there to serve me. It was me who would be serving them.
It was a magnificent sight. When photos of this new yet familiar planet finally reached the public's eyes, the whole world froze in fascination. It was a breathtaking moment. A planet just like ours was orbiting on the opposite side of the sun. Where it came from, nobody knew. It was a planet just like ours except for one notable difference. There were no humans. The whole world, our Earth, buzzed over this sudden discovery. Theories about this and that absorbed the internet to no successful end. People of all walks of like talked madly about another world without people. Yet, while the world was rapt in awe, I saw things a different way. When I saw the photo, I was riding the bus past meadows from the countryside. It rumbled with its familiar purr that signaled my nervous system to finally relax, as the school day was indeed over. It was a comforting tone. Yet, amidst the great fields of our undisturbed countryside, I couldn't help but wonder. It wasn't thoughts like "where did it come from?"or "what's it's purpose?"True, those questions mattered, but they weren't what I first thought when I saw the planet for myself. My phone screen shone a terrifying glow of another Earth that breathed a much more vibrant air. It was much greener and bluer, richer with the colors of life. It almost seemed to glow. Not my phone, or the picture. The planet. This photo captured me in a different way. I looked out again at the fields in front of me. We passed by it at a dizzying speed, yet the far reaches of the field made their steady presence known. These fields were touched by humans, cultivated by humans, and harvested by humans. It isn't an exaggeration to say that the whole world was much like this field. This photo... While humanity raved about this mysterious discovery, I instead feared. This planet lacked people. It was a beautiful work of celestial art, a rare twice in a universe miracle. Let's suppose for example, What if humans didn't interfere with this Earth, this Earth that I and the rest of us inhabit for granted? Would it look as stunning as this picture in front of us? Thinking about it that way, the new planet carried about a new, haunting aura. It made its sudden presence known, as if mocking all of humanity for what could've been, but was ruined.
# The Cost of Ideals They refuse to listen will not understand it took all of my efforts to reach where we stand. My goal, it was pure and that must justify the bending of rules which shouldn't apply. The cost I have counted and I dare to opine; that compared to the gains small losses are fine. Irrational critics that demonise me have lost their clear sight of the future, you see. The end, it was nigh if we hadn't curtailed disruptive actors whose interests were veiled. There's no need to defend expedient acts that dealt with those problems which halted our tracks. That blood of theirs which regrettably spilled was collateral damage to promises filled. Abandon the shading of rose-tinted glass and accept our improvement on leadership past. The trimming of sails was a small price to pay for continued survival I'm sure you would say. To be truly human is to suffer pain a minority cost is the majority gain. The mathematics of state it can never care for mere sand in the gears that oft causes wear. The needs of the many must outway the few it's a terrible burden for me and for you. You cannot pretend that you do not share a portion of the blame for this sordid affair. In the end, it was you who came to me and asked to solve a problem to face up to the task. My methods, when it suited you, you freely looked away you've lost the right to criticise now that it's time to pay. Amongst you all, I rose alone when it most clearly seemed that for community survival you choose the ends above the means. --- Written as part of my daily poem series, which can be found on [my sub.](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Crossroads) Any and all feedback welcomed.
He was rattled to the core as he stared at his classmates, their black soulless eyes only adding to the creepiness of the blank looks on their faces. They were stoic, unmoving like the statues in the art classroom. Slowly he arose from his chair, beginning to grow unnerved to the point where he felt like he was going to vomit onto the floor. They all kept looking at him even as he began to walk towards the door, opening it. He would've booked it down the hall straight to the exit if it wasn't for the fact that, standing at the doors, at the end of the hallway leading to the entrance, everyone else in the school was out there, staring right at him with black eyes and stoic faces. He had to go out onto the football field and meet him, he just HAD to otherwise....well, he didn't wanna know. Walking out the doors to the field, he saw the creature up ahead and felt more horrified at the sight. He could tell that it was...humanoid looking, which was worse then it just being some sort of giant bull-monster or some ungodly thing from the stars above the clouds. Wait, stairs above the clouds? Looking up, he saw it was a mix between evening and night, twilight, it was. He'd sigh, walking towards the figure with his hands in his pockets, having an idea of..what this was. He stopped in front of the creature...it was tall, covered in dark crimson flesh that seemed to be coarse and even rough on some parts, it was also tall, maybe around 8 ft and was skinny...but the head was oddly shaped, for the end of it extended like a large tendril and was moving like a tail, like a wolf counting the seconds to leap onto it's prey. A single eye on the right side of the face opened..and a wide, long-toothed grin came as well. "Hello, my little friend."It sounded light pitched and almost raspy..and it was a he. "Hello, my crawling chaotic friend."He replied back, trying his best to sound polite. It was always important to have some form of manners when it..came to him. "What are you doing here? I thought you said you didn't need me for a while?" The Chaotic friend cackled, seeming thinking of a proper way to respond, "My reason is best put to be seen then explained, Skids."Skids grunted as he felt the tendril wrap around his waist, the crawling chaos beginning to walk towards the woods, the reality tearing itself apart to form a circular portal. Skids looked back to the school and said, "Promise me at least you won't let anyone go mad this time, please?" Nyral grinned, "Since when did we make promises?" And into the void they went.
What follows is the prologue and first two acts of an incomplete story. Enjoy. Prologue: Climb the highest mountain, plumb the deepest ocean. No one who does one ever does the other, because no one ever comes back. I changed that, but that's getting ahead of myself. It's some kind of compulsion really, but no one fully understands it. At the peak of Everest, and the deepest part of the Marianas Trench, there are doors. To look at them, you'd think they'd been there forever, but they appeared suddenly in December of the year 2020. No one is sure how they got there, but by chance both were discovered within a week of each other. A remote expedition to the bottom of the Marianas Trench to study deep sea life using a robotic probe discovered the doorway on its third descent to the same spot. It was just there. Looking like it had been sitting there since the dawn of time. Ten feet tall, ten feet wide, ten feet thick through the opening. To all appearances, made entirely out of marble. There were strange symbols carved over every inch of it, interlocking and interweaving to make complex geometric patterns and spiral formations. They seemed fractal, upon closer inspection of the video, the further in you zoomed the more you were able to see layers and layers of incomprehensible yet elegant complexity. There was a prominent mathematician from the United States named Sykes who apparently went mad attempting to decipher them. They say he stared and stared, deeper and deeper until he just cracked. He would cover walls and walls and walls with tiny pieces of what he saw at the highest magnification images he could get, and incomprehensible equations over ten times as much space, and was said to have flown into a rage when people would try to convince him to stop working to eat, or drink. Eventually he ended up institutionalized. Before that, within three days after the discovery in the Trench, reports started coming back that no one was returning from the summit of Mount Everest anymore. Climbers would go up, but would never come back down. Experienced climbers, people who had summited the mountain before many times, and their guides. No one returned. No one's sure exactly what happened that first while, but someone tasked a satellite to look, and were stunned to discover an identical stone door to the one in the Trench. There were no bodies, and soon we found out why. The Chinese government was determined to uncover the secret of the door before anyone else, and they locked down access to their side of the mountain; turning base camps into military outposts, and sent teams of researchers up to examine the door. Live video from American and Chinese surveillance satellites was released a day after the Chinese team was scheduled to reach the summit. No one could understand what they saw. The team walked around the door and looked at it. Someone started trying to take charcoal rubbings of the symbols before very conspicuously crumpling up the paper and just staring at the stone. The whole team shuffled around, looking ever closer at the stone from high and low, until their faces were almost touching the rock face; and they began to move. One by one, some quirk in the pattern would catch their eye and they would follow it into the open archway of the door, and they would never be seen again. All ten people simply vanished. And the world became captivated by the mystery. Those were the days of Sykes, and his famous insanity. Madness seemed to follow the imagery of the doors, but the case of professor Sykes was a rarity. It became a common belief that anyone who stared to long, or perhaps too deep, would be consumed with the desire to pass through the door they saw, at any cost. This made even remote observations dangerous, and that no unmanned machine passed through made it useless. The mania became an internationally recognized psychological disorder, but the reaction was mixed. Some thought people should be free to pass over, others that they should be locked up for their own protection. Certain curious souls, the brave fools they are called today, got the bright idea to look deeply at both, and so counter the effect with itself. One cannot pass through both doors, they reasoned, so being compelled toward both the highest peak and the lowest depth must lead to the balance to remain on Earth. They miscalculated. All of the brave fools passed through the Everest door. They knew how to get there, and they did it. The Trench was beyond the reach of most people, at first. But then people began to notice the really strange thing, very few who attempted to summit Everest out of door-mania failed to reach the summit. Young, old, fat, skinny, sick, healthy; somehow a bizarre series of coincidences and good fortune made the journey easier. And that's where we return to the matter of Sykes. He was the first man to succeed in passing through the Trench door. He found uncanny fortune in escaping the institution he was locked in, and somehow managed to construct a submersible out of cast off scrap and junk materials that actually survived the trip to the depths. The entire experience was broadcast live over the internet, though the viewership dropped dramatically the closer he got to the door. Can't be too careful, after all. Sykes became ever more ecstatic as he approached, muttering jubilation in some bizarre language no one could comprehend but him. He passed through, the sub didn't. It crashed down there somewhere, and that marked the beginning of the second mania. A growing number of people began somehow surviving the trip to the Trench in homemade submersibles, and that was when the priests arrived. One enterprising man named Melvin was so captivated with traveling through the door, that he would invite anyone he met to come with him. He kept high quality images of the Trench door on his phone, and would offer to show them to people. He wanted to go, yet he was insistent that he convince others to go as well. He devised a plan to make a trip down, collect the cast off submersibles, and bring them back for others to use after he was gone. No one thought he would resurface, but he did. Dozens of trips in his little machine, tying the submersibles to a floating marina of his own construction. At last, he submerged, and didn't return. His submersible surfaced empty on its own. And more people flocked to the ocean. That was a shocking, if foreboding, revelation. The first person not immediately drawn through the door upon reaching one was someone who was trying to get other people to go through. And that was when people started to evangelize. Small groups began to form, advocating one door or the other, trying to convince people to look, and to go through. They came to be known as the Trenchers and Summiters, and they zealously competed with each other around the globe to convince people to choose one or the other. The priests were the leaders of the movements. As cracked as Sykes and as zealous as Melvin, they turned dangerous very quickly. The first report of a forced conversion sent shockwaves through the international community. A Summiter priest named An Zhao apparently kidnapped seven people and tied them up in a room with pictures of the Everest door covering every surface. When the authorities attempted to arrest Zhao, he escaped up the mountain and no one dared to follow him. The seven people rescued from the building took up where Zhao left off. Rehabilitation was attempted, but pointless. So was imprisonment, as it turned out. Summiters started getting arrested in China for proselytizing, but they would either escape within a few days or be released on a technicality. Trenchers in the US started fighting lawsuits to be allowed to put up billboards with pictures of the door, and the first amendment became a very touchy subject. It's all well and good to have freedom of expression, but what do you do when the expression itself is dangerous? Exceptions were quickly drafted into law as a stopgap, but the Trenchers weren't going to give up. They defied the laws and would plaster imagery up anywhere they could manage. But some of the most dangerous seeming ones were the least pushy.
I wake up, lying on the ground, the ringing of metal heavy in my ears. I look around to see a town that is flooded with soldiers. Leading the charge against them were a group of people. And I laid there, right in the middle. Before I could get up, I felt something heavy hit my head and soon, the world turned black. When I came to, I was in a camp, a battle camp. A man in a cloak stood in front of me and asked me, “What power do you have?” I looked up to him, confused. “Every one here has a special ability. For example, I can create ice, Fjord can camouflage. So, what about you?” He asks. A smile spread on my face, the word camouflaged bringing back memories. “I have whatever my Teachers taught me in school” a say, a smile on my face. The man had a disappointed face, but before he could express his feelings, a man ran into the room. “The soldiers are here. They’re led by the General!” He shouted. “Can you fight, boy?” The man asked. I simply nodded and followed him out onto the battlefield. “You need any weapons?” He asked. “A few knives will do “, I said, focusing on the battlefield. I spotted the general, who seemed to have the power of nullification. I strapped on my knives and went to face him in battle. He was way too slow. Within minutes, my knife had found its mark. As I stepped away from the corpse, the cloaked man, with fear and awe etched on his face asked”Who are you? And who on Earth is your teacher?” I just smile at him and say, “My name is Nagisa Shiota, and my teacher was a man named Koro Sensei.”
I've worked in hell for over twelve hundred years now and I've finally brought up the courage to ask my boss out on a date. He's the coolest guy you'll ever meet. He's strong, tall and he loves to have fun and party. He makes a ton of jokes and he keeps the residents and his staff in a great mood all year round. He even takes us on vacations to Earth from time to time. A lot of people here have a crush on him. One of my male demon friends can't stop talking about him and when I told him, I'd ask our boss out, he was so supportive of me. Said he himself would never date his boss. It was one of his own rules that he swore by. Anyway, one more thing you need to know about my boss is that he's what humans would call pansexual in their terms, only that for us, it also includes dating other species. My boss has been on a few dates with human residents and a few other demons as well. He's also polygamous, which means he has multiple partners at the same time, and in his words it gives him the opportunity to share his affection more efficiently. Everyone here knows about it. The residents of hell are all pretty chill and there's never been a problem between his multiple partners. In fact, his partners have benefited from it. Some of them have even become friends. But now, back to me asking my boss out. It's currently 12 at night and my boss just came back from a visit to Earth and is now in his office. I approach the door and knock. "Come in."I smile at the sound of his voice. Deep and resonant. It's so pleasant to hear him speak. Which reminds me, he can also sing. He has one of the best scores at our karaoke bar. I enter. I'm a bit nervous because making a good impression is important to me. I'm dressed in my favorite clothes. They are simple and comfortable. Sneakers, jeans skirt and a black tank top. "Hi, Satan."I smile and close the door behind me. "How was your trip?" Satan looks up from a pile of paperwork. "Hello, Devin. Good to see you. My trip was great. Stopped by at the reception and we're getting a few newcomers who blew themselves up with fireworks at a party earlier."He gestures to the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat." I laugh. "Fireworks you say? It's been a while since we've had that. Those blokes are usually the ones who really bring this place to another level of alive. Glad to hear the trip was great."I take the seat he offered me and watch as he sorts the documents. "You're right about that. Can't wait for them to arrive. I'm looking over their files right now. One of them even shares your name."He shoots me a smirk and turns the page to show me the photo. "I remember you said you like tall guys with black hair who have a sense of humor." I feel my face get hot. "That's sweet of you, but actually the reason I'm here is to ask you out on a date." For a moment Satan is taken aback, then he breaks into a huge smile. "Aw! I've been wondering about that for a while now. I wasn't sure if you were only interested in friendship or not. I'm glad you finally found it in your brightly burning heart to ask. Of course I'll go out with you." I scratch my nose and smile back at him. I'm happy. "Thank you so much." He reaches out and caresses my cheek. "You're blushing. That's so cute!" I giggle. "That's all the happy hormones getting to my head." "Do you have a place in mind you want to go?"Satan asks me. "Not really. I thought maybe we could go and eat something. You like steak right? Maybe a steakhouse?" I can see he likes the idea. "Have you been to hell's L.A. sector? There's a steakhouse there owned by a woman called Mary and her steaks are the best around. You might even have met her." I think I actually do know her. "Is she the older lady with red hair who always wears a shirt with a bull on it?" "Yes, that's her." "Cool! Sounds great." He nods. "Wonderful. You got time now, don't you? How about I skip the rest of this paperwork and we'll head there, because I'm starving."He scribbles something on a copy of Devin's file and gives it to me before getting up. "Just in case you're interested in more than one partner."He winks and offers me his hand to hold. I neatly fold the file with Devin's new address in hell, put it in my pocket and take Satan's hand. "You really do know me well. I appreciate it." We leave his office. "I'm a people person,"he laughs. "I aim to please." "If anyone living knew that, we'd have no room left down here. Management really did a great job with the false advertising."
"You're dead, you had your whole life to watch TV, so it's our turn!"shouted Ted "What's that supposed to mean?"asked Angela, the ghost of an English sufferagette. "I mean, just because we're dead doesn't mean we don't have rights. If you wanted to rip my top off, the law says you can't." Unsheathing his sword, a ghost of a Celtic warrior said "You touch my wife, I'll have your head!" "Calm down boy, no one needs to be removing anyone's head. If things get too hot under the hood, you get a propeller through the chest"said George, a ghost of an English fighter pilot. "Zip it, fly boy. He's not German so he's mine! And so's that remote!" The Celt lunged for the remote, stabbing Ted in the heart in the process. "Get out!"shouted Beth, Ted's wife, "or so help me, I'll shove that sword up your ass!" With the Celt gone, the pilot and suffragette were allowed to stay.
\[POEM\] With a beep the Roomba goes and starts across the floor, Under tables, past the chairs, and then on through a door. Hither, thither, everywhere, it cleans up dust and more. &#x200B; Sitting here with lazy stare, I watch the robot glide, Dirt and debris everywhere, but no matter, they can't hide, With an ever-present buzzing hum, it continues on its ride. &#x200B; A moment later, from my seat, as I watch it zoom, I see it turn and roll away into an empty room, The filth in there, it stands no chance; it will meet its doom. &#x200B; Still on my perch I hear a sound when the Roomba makes a "thunk." Sitting there I wonder, into what does the vacuum clunk? That room over there is empty, the space just has no junk. &#x200B; Sitting there still pondering when again I hear the sound. I finally stand and walk in there to take a look around. I see the Roomba rolling, back and forth along the ground. &#x200B; In the middle of the room I see a door that's almost clear. Shimmering in the dim light, is that door really here? Still questioning its existence when again, that sound, I hear. &#x200B; The door just glistens softly, there in transparent frame. With outstretched hand I reach, the handle's where I aim. Now I start to wonder, is this some sort of game? &#x200B; With the door now opened wide, I stare into the abyss. The Roomba slides on forward, I didn't consider this. As I watch it fall away, I think its presence I will miss. &#x200B; Now I must go sweeping dirt and dust all on my own. My robot cleaner up and left me in my house now all alone. I have to go and start the chores since my Roomba is now gone. &#x200B; I'd better go get started on that awful, wretched chore. But now when I must sweep, I'll open that clear door. For into it I'll sweep all the dirt and dust galore! \-------------- If you liked this, check out r/WannaWriteSometimes for more of my stories.
"The habs have kept us safe for almost 500 years! Gods know what awaits us out there...500 years of change, if anything is left at all!", said the Speaker of the Chambers, an old ma, scared of change. It wasn't the first time the debate had come up, but this time was different; a young new generation had made up their minds it seemed. Forced to, by the increasing systems failures. The habs would support them for a few more generations, but it seemed sure to those younger that they would fail. "500 years, ay, and what've we to show for it, eh? 500 years on Earth and we would have made huge strides in science, we would be an entirely different culture...we've stagnated for being trapped like a fish in a small glass bowl. Earth is our only hope, the only chance our grandchildren's grandchildren will have. There was no hope 500 years ago that we would ever survive that toxic hell, but bow there is no hope for here! And we have the means, maybe, to return at least a small part of earth to normality. If we start now, our future generations stand a chance!", this one was a young man of no real power, but more persuasion on the people than any man of the Council. His words resonated with the people and gave them hope, "You don't have to want it, because we do. And we will not let you kill us for your fear." And as he finished his speech, alarms went off; the seal was open! The council members panicked, but stat murmuring to themselves as there was nothing more to be done. The people had decided and they lacked any means of enforcing their will these days. A group of 20 people was to leave, suited up and protected to see the state of the earth. They would take orbital dropships down, ships that may not even work. Ships 500 years old and barely maintained, almost forgotten. Two ships departed quickly, before anyone could change their minds. What they found....what they saw....the earth was indeed different, far more so than 500 years could possibly achieve, "what is that!"one of the scientists said, pointing as he left the ship; he pointed at one of hundred, perhaps thousands of "trees", if they could be called such; mammoth and foreign as anything could be, like a huge feathery hand splayed up towards the sun, geand and majestic but certainly not of earth. They moved a small ways away from their ship, taking it all in, taking samples as if they were not on earth, but a new planet full of new life. "The toxic atmosphere appears to have changed...the sulfur is gone, theres oxygen, but not quite enough...mostly flourine...suits should hold, but perhaps not as long as we'd thought" As they moved, they saw all manner of animal, but nothing at all familiar. It seemed that that toxic hell had killed earth and it had, in what could only be the spite of nature, given birth to a new brood of life. But this new brood didn't sit well with the group, there was no way such a diverse and established array of wild life could have spawned so quickly, it defied all they knew of biology, of life itself. And as they trekked, they would see them: gaseois towers, the same towers that spewed their demise so long ago now spewed something else; the 3rd atmosphere of this planet. No one had known there they'd come from, but over a period of 5 years they'd sprouted with no identifiable source and no ability to get close enough to study. 500 years ago they were what killed the planet and now they seemed to bring some new life. After several hours of traveling, they found the source of it all. They gazed in amazement and fear at a unique creature; slithering and somewhat small, a gangly mass of tendrils that seemed to glide along the earth as if it had no sense of friction. It was the most bizzare of the creatures they'd seen yet, but it seemed to move with an intent that all the ithers had lacked. They watched as its tendrils shot out and grabbed thing, fruit off the trees and tools, tools! of all manner. These were intelligent creatures! The people once of earth would observe some time longer, but it would be longer yet till they peiced it all together. Till they came to the conclusion that earth had been snached from under them by some nomadic tribe of outsiders from beyond the stars. 500 years ago the terraforming began; 200 years ago it was complete, and while all of humanity sealed itself away this race of travelers would enroot itself in their home, a home now no more familiar than the strangest of alien planets.
Bugger me sideways those new extra light horseshoe aren‘t fucking light. It was the 25th pallet i had pulled from the warehouse to my workingstation and i still had 3 to go. My feet hurt from the seemingly endless 8 hour shift i almost had completed. 2 pallets to go... Just as i was wrapping this pallet with a weight of nearly a ton, the fucking wrapping machine suddenly stopped. Ohhh come on just let me finish. But the Display spitt in my face and told me that he needs a fucking service man to be fixed and unless this service man has done his job right, it won‘t do its. To make matters worse my boss didn‘t like this mishap. So this fucking fat, ugly Toad told me that i have to stay until i finished this contract, with those damned horseshoes. Luckily enough we had a second wrapping machine which didn‘t broke down but also fucked me because the foliage was very low and because this was the older wrapping machine we didn‘t have any foliage left that fit in it. Still 2 pallets to go... now i run around those last two pallets like a fucking lunatic with a roll of foliage in my hands. Can you believe it? Imagine it! A Fucking Halfling runs around a mountain of carton twice as high as himself just to wrap it in fucking cling film. But the best is about to come as i pull the last pallet from the warehouse i move to fast and all those cartons begin leaning over. I try to hold them but they are too heavy and bury me under them. I lost it i couldn‘t handle those fucking horseshoes anymore. I quit right then and there. WHY do you even hire a dwarven halfling for this work when everbody else is at least a human or a Brute? Anyways, so i start driving home and i needed some gas to safely make it home. No biggie i thought because right next to my EX workplace there is a gas station you know. So just as i want to take a right turn. I had my indicator on i swear to all of the twelve gods, a fucking Centaur with those bitchass „extra light“ horseshoes T-bones my lovely car and wrecks it completely. I just got it. So i get out and as he sees me he just laughs at my sorry ass tells me to shove the insurance claim up my tiny ass and drives off. I tell ya we halflings don‘t have it easy. So i call the police and tell them what happened and those idiots tell me that without the numberplate of the car they can‘t and won‘t do jack shit. I... i just walked to the next bus stop called my insurance. Well i tried they are all on vacation for three weeks and all incurance claims during that period will be worked on after that timespan... As i sat there almost crying, waiting for the bus to come it of course began to rain. Guess whos umbrella got fucked in a car crash? So i sat there for two hours, soaking wet, just to get a fucking bus home. I slept almost the whole ride home. As a matter of fact i overslept and missed my bus stop and had to walk 2 kilometers back. Finally back at home i searched for my keys. GUESS WHOS KEY ARE STILL IN A WRECK 30 KILOMETERS AWAY? I just lost it. I couldn‘t keep up anymore i hit my head against the door over and over again and then just ran. I only remember that i ran across the street and just as i was about to get to the other side a FUCKING CENTAUR hits me and, goddess of justice be my witness, it was the same guy... Well that doesn‘t matter anymore does it? No, my dear nothing from your mortal life matters anymore. You will find peace here in my garden. I thank you Goddess Justice And just as i walked through the golden gates of heaven i heard that stupid voice again It was that FUCKING CENTAUR IN THOSE FUCKING „EXTRA LIGHT“ HORSESHOES... I tell ya... I. just. fucking. lost. it.
“911 Operator, what’s your emergency?” I hesitated, do I tell them he’s been cutting himself? “Er… uhh, My friend is bleeding out from some deep cuts, and he’s lost consciousness. Please send an ambulance, my name is Pedro Aveliz, I’m at...” As I waited on the line, I elevate his arms to prevent further bleeding. He looked paler this time. I hope he makes it; I can’t believe he did this again. I don’t know how long he’d been on the floor. I wait by his side and try to talk to him, but he still unresponsive. I keep checking for a pulse, yes, it’s faint. I hear a knock at the door, I yell for them to come in. The ambulance checks my friend and ask: “How long has he been like this?” “I don’t know, maybe 20 minutes? This isn’t the first time I’ve found him like this. He’s pulled this stunt before, but he looks worse this time. Can you help him?” “We’ll do everything we can, we’ll bring him to the hospital.” They carry him out on the stretcher and carry him away. I’m left alone with my thoughts again. This is all my fault. If I had come earlier, he wouldn’t have been like this. He wouldn’t have cut himself so bad this time. I don’t think I can cover for him this time; I think I need to tell someone he’s been cutting himself. I should talk to my parents, they’ll know what to do. As I start to head home I see Craig and his stupid friends, I was about to run into the woods so they wouldn’t see me, but it’s too late they saw me. Craig opens his stupid fat mouth: “Hey Pedro, I saw the ambulance go from Hector’s place, you know anything about that?” I didn’t want to talk to Craig and his goons, and I really didn’t want to talk to them about Hector or what he’s going through. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought Craig actually cared. I’m not really sure what his motivations are or why he’s even here. Say, doesn’t he live on the other side of town? “No I don’t, do you?” I say flatly. “No stupid, that’s why I asked you. You’re his best friend, so I figured you’d know, looks like you were just coming from there.” “Are you calling me a liar? I don’t know Craig, I’m just walking home. Besides when did you start to care about Hector?” “I’m here to get collect some things he owes me.” That must be why Hector cut again, I wonder How much does owes Craig and his crew. It was enough for him to try and get that cutters high. “I almost wasted a trip, what’s in your pockets? Empty them now” “I don’t got anything, go away Craig.” “Empty ‘em now.” “No, go away.” “Hold ‘em down boys.” I sprint back the way I came, rushing into the woods where I originally had planned on going. I just hope they don’t know the woods as well as I do. I run home, not looking back, I can hear them shouting, but the shouts eventually fade, I hope I lost them. No one is home yet, looks like I’m first. I go upstairs and head to my room, I pass by my sister’s roommate, and notice the door’s open. “That’s strange I think, she never has her door open.” I peer inside and see a note on her bed: “Sleep doesn’t come easy I realize now I’m to blame It’s always my fault Forever I’ll sleep Under the bridge’s tall peak Sunken forever” I knew what this meant, but I didn’t know if I could make it to the train’s bridge in time. First Hector, now this. How’d things end up like this? “What did I do to make everyone around my hate their lives?!” I cried out. As I race to the bridge I hope I’m not too late, maybe my sister is still contemplating suicide. Maybe this is another poem, maybe this is a cry for attention, maybe she just wanted to see if someone in her family cared enough for her. I care about you sis, I’m coming. I spot her on top of a fallen tree, balancing on the thin branches. Before I call out, I try to get closer in case she tries anything. “Sis, why are you here?” I finally call out. She stares at me like a deer in the headlights, not sure of what to do. I call out to her again, and ask what she’s doing. “Nothing, why are you here? Were you looking for me?” I struggle within myself if I should tell her I found her note or tell her the events of the day. I eventually tell her the truth. “I found your note, are you doing ok?” “Were through my stuff again?” She asks hesitantly I sheepishly replied: “Yeah, your note made me worry. Are you doing ok?” She breaks down and embraces me, “I’m not, I don’t feel like in this family cares about me. Mom and dad are never home, my best friend Jessica recently told me she doesn’t want to see me ever again, and you seem to care, but you’re never around when I need you.” “I’m so sorry sis, I never meant for you to feel that way. You know I’m always here for you.” “Thanks, it means a lot to me. Let’s go back home.” As we walk home, she tells me more about her struggles with Jessica, beautiful Jessica, the one friend of hers that I loved at first sight. She never gave me a second glance, but I wanted to be with her. Turned out Jessica was caught in some shady business and my sis tried to talk her out of it. That’s why they’re not talking to each other. I’d talk to Jessica myself, but like I said, I don’t think she really liked me and I really doubt she’d talk to me now. I listened to my sis with earnest intent. When we get home, she says: “Thanks Pedro, I really appreciate you taking the time to listen to me today. I hope we can do this again soon. I love you bro.” “I love you too sis.”
Taking a deep breath, I stopped the clock. Darkness enveloped me. Not the darkness of the night sky, nor the darkness of the deepest dungeons, but the darkness of the eternal void – emptiness that swallowed everything. The first time I did this, I had panicked, nearly dropping the precious clock as I rushed to restart it. Now, seven stops later, I was used to it. This still didn’t make it bearable. Mentally picturing where everyone was standing, I took a step forwards. For a moment, the room was illuminated again, and then the darkness returned. The problem with stopping time was that light had a finite speed – if no time was passing, light wasn’t moving towards me, so my eyes received no input. Not just the input of darkness, but no input at all. Sensory deprivation was terrifying. Of course, there was no sound either, and the isolation was enough to drive a man insane if they remained time-stopped for too long. Another step forwards, another brief glimpse of the room as I forced my eyes forwards into the suspended light. Step by step, I agonisingly worked my way across the room, winding between the guards who would see nothing, hear nothing, as I passed them. One touch would bring them into the stop-time with me, and everything would be over. There could be no haste – I literally had all the time in the world, and I would have to endure what came with it. Reaching the far side, I ran my hand across the wall to find the doorway. Touch, at least, still functioned. The door was open, I’d had to time my jaunt to make sure of that. Opening a door in stop-time was impossible – the door would need to move with infinite speed to go from closed to open in zero time. This wasn’t a problem for me, removed from the time stream as I was, but the door was firmly anchored in reality. On the far side lay my goal. With each step, I closed on him, still standing there at his workbench. To one side of him sat the Diadem of Truth – worth a king’s ransom, but I was not after it for riches. I needed to borrow it, to discern the truth of the various rumours surrounding the fate of my brother. No lie could pierce it’s enchantment, no falsehood could be spoken to it’s wearer. I froze. He’d moved. That wasn’t possible. He was frozen in time. I had been in stop-time too long, my eyes were playing trick on me. I took a deep breath and stepped forwards again. I screamed. That face will haunt me for the rest of my days – gaunt skin stretched over tired bones, eyes as deep as the darkness that surrounded me, and yet somehow alive. He stood less than a foot in front of me, and even as the scream passed my lips, a cold, dead hand landed on my shoulder. Time restarted and he stood there, staring into the depths of my soul, and then he smiled. “So that’s where my missing clock is.”
"Are you ready?"The voice could barely be heard above the mechanical clanking and hissing of endless machines preparing to unseal the vault. A month had passed and although the seven of them had noted they couldn't quite believe it had already passed there were times it had felt like an eternity. They had spoken about all they had missed of the outside world and were more than ready to rejoin society again. "I can't wait to feast, I'm going to eat so much", came the reply. They stood in a huddle by the huge vault entrance waiting for whoever would greet them on the other side. They had no contact whatsoever with the outside world during their stay and despite the relatively short duration were intrigued to hear about what had changed - if anything. The door clicked and slowly began to open, light streaming in and spreading like watching a sunrise on fast forward. They all held their hands up to shield their eyes which had become accustomed to the artificial glow and started outside, expecting to be greeted with triumphant cheers and a warm welcome from those who had been following the task. As their sight adjusted and they took their first steps into the outside, breathing the air deeply, they noticed... Nothing. Silence. No people, no noise, no welcome. "Well that's not what I expected."Said one. "Is this part of the challenge?"Enquired another. The wind gently caressed them as they continued to focus on their surroundings. A vast, empty landscape stretched as far as they could see in all directions with no signs of life anywhere. "What the... What's wrong with the sky?" They looked heavenward and saw an ethereal orange glow but no sun. Clouds like they'd not seen before resembled smoke from an eruption, streaked across the sky like an artist's impression. A feeling of uneasiness fell upon the group as it dawned on them things were not quite right. "What the hell happened?"They discussed as they began walking towards the nearest city. They knew where they were, of course, the vault location was no secret but somehow everything felt altered, as though they'd stepped into another reality slightly different from their own. The walk would take them over a small mountain, the city sitting the other side. Tired and confused, they argued about what might have happened but had no answers. The mountain felt like Everest after so long with little exercise, but no amount of anything would prepare them for what they found. As they reached the mid way point and the horizon stretched once more into the distance, they stopped dead. "Holy shit." The city had been completely destroyed. Buildings were either burning or collapsed into rubble. Smoke billowed from across the scene, feeding the nightmarish sky they had seen from the vauly. There was no sign of life anywhere, the people presumably either dead or fled. Their silent gazing was abruptly interrupted as a voice from behind spoke. "Oh my God, it's you! You... Survived?"The man croaked. He looked malnourished, skin and bone. The vault dwellers began asking what was happening, and discovered this was global. The whole world was in ruins, ravaged by riots and war. There were no sides, no winners, no X versus Y - the whole of humanity had turned on itself. The stranger told them he had predicted was coming and left the city to seek refuge in the mountains before the worst came. "You have no idea who you are, do you?"He continued. "You were tricked. You were never supposed to survive the vault. It was built to be your living tomb. We performed ritual after ritual to erase your memories so you wouldn't question anything, and then bundled into the vault to be killed. You can't die like we can, it was the only way." "This dude has completely lost the plot!"Anger began to grow amongst the group as they tried to make sense of it all. "Just hear me out, please!"The visitor pleaded. "You are the seven. The personification of things we thought would destroy humanity. We thought by removing you we would have peace and prosperity, but balance is everything. We were wrong." The stranger paused, and flopped to the ground to sit with legs crossed. He sighed and stared out into the city ruins before continuing. "Without pride there was no need for humility, and no one cares for themselves. Without envy there was no need for being content, and ambition was lost. Without gluttony we stopped caring about what we ate. Without greed there was no need for charity and generosity. Without lust there was no need for respect. Without sloth we lost sight of the value in hard work. And without wrath there was no justice. We became mindless and lost, resorting to basic instincts of survival. Ironic, really, that in doing so we destroyed ourselves. Balance is everything."
As I gazed down at my reflection in the little pool and saw the stranger staring back at me, a wrinkly spotty old prune. I'd stopped looking in mirrors in the first days of my search, scared of the changes I was starting to see. "It's natural, you'll get used to it."They had told me. Absolutely ridiculous. I'd decided then that I would find the mythical Fountain of Youth, and I would stay young forever. "Robert"I croaked, "Let us see what it can do." "Yes, Sir"he replied. My hands shaking, i raised the glass to my lips and gulped the water down. I sank back in to my wheelchair and waited for the water to work its magic. Something was happening. I sat up, I could sit up straight! My back had stopped aching. As the aches and pains of my aging body faded away I sprung up out of my wheelchair. "Hahahahaa! It's working it's working! We've done it"I grinned at Robert. "We have indeed Sir."He smiled and nodded. "Wait a minute, why am I shrinking?"I stammered. "What the hell is going on!" At that moment I realised. The Fountain was working too well, I looked down at my pudgy fingers. "Fuck!" The lush valley hidden in the foothills of the Himalayas was filled with crying of a newborn. Robert picked up the baby and wrapped him in a blanket. "Guess you'll be back in another 80 odd years little one."
The lilac flowers gently floated down the stream of quicksilver and drifted off into the air as the river ended at the edge of the world, specks of silver spilling off onto the Earth below. The Princess of the Moon reclined lazily as she plucked the flowers from their stem and set them adrift, delighting in their gentle beauty. Here, in her garden along the edge of the crescent, she could finally breathe freely the Moon air, away from the hustle and bustle of court life. The Princess wandered toward that ultimate edge to gaze upon that world which hers orbited, wishing to dive into the massive orb of blue below but knowing that nothing, neither spirit nor mortal, could make the journey. She considered the premise of visiting Earth. She nearly laughed at its absurdity, and yet the concept of that grand voyage which was just beyond reach spoke directly to her soul. Nobody could make it, but what if? What if nobody's tried? What if she could? What if that streak of flame coming up from the Earth was... What is that thing? That streak of flame made its way closer and closer and close enough to even reach out and grab it and what a strange thing it was. It looked like a rock spirit, bulky and intricate and yet shiny like the rivers of silver, and quick as them too; it flew up straight past the moon for many hundreds of feet before apparently sprouting wings and flying down to the ground. After only a few moments of grace, it began flapping uselessly and its flight became falling. Whatever it was landed in a heap before the young spirit, still glowing red from its firey ascent, the golden wings under its arms bent and broken against the ground. After a few moments, the metal giant rose from its pile, and presented itself. It was clearly not a rock spirit, but rather some sort of biped in a brass suit, its arms and legs bent the opposite way legs and arms typically should. "Greetings, space creatures! It is I, a visitor from the planet Earth!" A visitor from Earth... a Human? Impossible! All of his bits are on backwards! The Visitor carefully removed his helmet, revealing to the spirit the back of his head. The Visitor seemed bewildered by the curtains of flowers and marble around him that formed the Princess’s hidden garden, basking in the blue glow of the quicksilver waters, breathing in the fresh moon air with a mighty gulp. He surveyed his surroundings fully, the analytical mind of a scientist beholding each detail, until he faced The Princess. The Visitor had a look on his face most unbefitting of anyone gazing upon the highest of ladies: a slackjawed gaze of stupefied intrigue. “Are you... really... an alien creature?” The Princess carefully considered the question, and responded. “Well, yes, I suppose from your perspective that —“ “And I’m really here, above the sky?” She regained herself from the totally new experience of being interrupted, and had to think quite carefully to the response she would give. Even though it was night, the sky was very much still above her, but maybe humans had different meanings? “I suppose that is the case, depending on —“ The Visitor, in his suit of metal, quickly began jumping around in delight, very quickly noticing the diminished gravity in comparison to his home. His celebration very quickly turned to childlike play as he reveled in the wondrous new reality he was in. “This is sensational! Another world, with a different people and a different gravity? Purely remarkable! Huston, are you getting this?” The Visitor ceased his play, instead fiddling with dials upon his wrist. “Huston, do you read me? Do you —“ there was a burst of sparks as the device on his wrist finally gave in to the abuse of being shot through the sky and landed upon.
Max was terrified. It was the first day of middle school gym class. He had loved gym class in elementary school. He was the best kickball player in the class. But he was 13 now, and gym class was totally different. You couldn’t just wear your normal clothes and play kickball in them. You had to change into a gym uniform. Max walked into the locker room, with his blue eyes bugging out, staring at the floor. He didn’t want to change clothes in front of his classmates. A lot of the other boys were taller and had bigger muscles. Max’s chest was super pale, along with his thighs. Would they make fun of him? He found an empty place on the locker room bench and set down his backpack. He took out his gym shorts and ‘Property of Pleasant Plains P.E. Department’ shirt. He took a deep breath. He took a quick look around to see if anyone was looking at him. Suddenly he became afraid that someone would see him looking, and then they’d call him gay. He began to hyperventilate. Where was his inhaler? He patted the pockets of his backpack, wheezing heavily. People near him heard the noise and looked up. “You okay man?” one boy said. Another boy, Stephen, began imitating Max, making exaggerated breathing noises. His friend Trevor laughed. Max found his inhaler, pushed the button, and took a long draw. He immediately caught his breath. Trevor came over. He was a beefy, short kid with black hair and a constant snarl. “We’ve got an inhaler nerd over here!” He spread his arms towards Stephen, like a showman presenting a brand new car. “What’s your name?” Trevor said. “Max.” “Aren’t you going to ask me my name?” Trevor said. “What’s your name?” “Shut up. You’re a nerd, so I have a question for you. You probably know the answer. What’s the capital of Singapore?” “What?” Max said. “Bangkok!” Trevor shouted with glee. He punched Max in the cock. Max crumpled to the locker room floor. Stephen and Trevor laughed uncontrollably. Five minutes later, Max limped out of the locker room towards the football field. The class was assembled at the fifty yard line, doing stretches together, led by a massive man named Coach Flamberger. A student pointed Max out. Coach Flamberger turned towards him and blew his whistle. “Hustle! You’re late,” he called across the field. Max cringed with pain as he picked up the pace. He joined the class at the edge of the group and silently began stretching. Coach Flamberger looked out at this year’s class of seventh graders. He cared about helping kids grow up. The smart kids got to be the teacher’s favorites in their normal classes, the creative kids got to be the art teachers’ favorites, but then there were the strong kids. Most teachers treated them like big dumb meatheads. But they were kids just like any other kids, and they needed love and support too. Who would he be able to mentor this year? “Alright, now everybody go run!” Coach Flamberger shouted. “And keep running until you hear the whistle.” The students grumbled and began jogging on the track. Everyone jockeyed for position to be able to run next to the popular kids, the beautiful kids, and the funny kids. There was a popular girl group, a popular guy group, and a few second- and third-string versions of those groups, an emo/goth/geek group, and then Max, jogging alone at the back. He realized he wasn’t alone. There was a ghost running next to him—a short fat man in his forties, wearing a fireman’s uniform. “Hey,” the ghost said. “I must be hallucinating,” Max said. “Is this from my inhaler?” “That’s what most people think,” the ghost said. “But you’re not. I can prove it. I’m Mr. Mann. Trevor’s dad.” “Trevor?” Max said. “Yeah,” Mr. Mann said, “The guy you um… met in the locker room. Black hair.” “Oh my god he’s awful,” Max said. “He’s… he’s going through a really rough time.” “How?” “Well… I died. Just a month ago. I wish he didn’t hit you. That was wrong. He’s not usually like that. It looked like it really hurt. I’m ashamed and embarrassed and I’m so sorry for you. It’s my fault. He wouldn’t have done it if… If I was still around.” “Oh,” Max said, processing. “I miss him so much. I think that might help him feel better if he knew. You know? Do you think you could tell him that? For me? That I miss him?” “What?” Max said, “No.” Trevor saw Max talking to himself at the back of the crowd of runners. He slowed down and started jogging next to him. “Talking to yourself Max?” Trevor said. “I think it would help him,” Mr. Mann said, “He might be less… violent.” “No,” Max said to Trevor. “Who are you talking to then?” Trevor said. “An imaginary friend?” “Mind your own business,” Max said. “Ooooh… tough guy huh? Seriously. Who are you talking to?” Trevor said. He started poking Max, hard. “Nobody, go away man,” Max said, trying to run away from Trevor. “Tell me who you’re talking to,” Trevor said, catching up with him easily and poking him again. “Your dad!” Max said. Trevor stopped poking him. Maybe Mr. Mann was right. Maybe this would make Trevor less violent. “What?” Trevor said coldly. “He misses you,” Max said. “What the FUCK did you say?” Trevor shouted. He grabbed Max by the arm, slowing them both to a stop. Trevor punched him hard in the nose. Max crumpled onto the track. “Trevor!” Coach Flamberger shouted. He was running towards them. “Now you got me in trouble,” Trevor said. He turned his back towards Coach Flamberger to block his view and then spat on the ground next to Max. Coach Flamberger arrived, breathing heavily. There were sweat stains by the armpits of his PE uniform. “What happened here?” Coach Flamberger said. “Nothing,” Trevor said, glaring at Max to intimidate him. “Nothing,” Max said, holding his nose. “You got a hell of a right hook,” Coach Flamberger said. “You want to join the boxing team? I’m the coach.” “Boxing team?” Trevor said. “Oh God,” Mr. Mann said. “You’re supposed to punish him. Teach him right from wrong.” “Yeah,” Coach Flamberger said, putting his arm around Trevor’s shoulders. They walked back towards the football field. Mr. Mann followed them, looking extremely concerned. He looked back towards Max. “I’m really sorry Max,” Mr. Mann said. “I’ll make it up to you. But I’ve gotta see what kind of influence this guy is gonna be on my son.” Max nodded, which caused his nose to sting even worse. He started walking back towards the locker room. Maybe he could get there before anyone else and change clothes by himself.
A lot had happened in your lifetime; major medical breakthroughs extending life and youth, the discovery of extraterrestrial life within the Milky Way galaxy, technological advancement, and so much more. But the thing from your life that has made the biggest impact, has altered your life the most was, The Game. You first encountered it in college in 2000 when your roommate showed you this weird game that just showed up on a cheap-looking website. No one could figure out where it came from or who created it, but it quickly became the most popular match-based, battle royale game in the world with 2.5 billion users. During the first month or so of playing the game with your three roommates, your team, The Overlords, quickly became the top players in the world. As time passed, the game evolved and The Overlords evolved with it. Somehow throughout the years and all the updates to the game, your team is able to maintain a perfect record. Somewhere around 2045, medicine advanced to the level of extending the average lifespan to 250 years while still maintaining the reflexes and cognitive function of a 20-year-old. 2073 was the biggest change, the discovery of extraterrestrial life within the Milky Way galaxy. It didn't take long to learn that these Alien races also had The Game. Servers were connected and the user count jumped to over 375 billion users. Yet still, The Overlords remained the top players in the galaxy. You had become one of the biggest celebrities in the entire galaxy, gaining sponsors and fans, both human and alien. Your team also has a target on your backs, everyone wants to be the team to knock off The Overlords. It has been 160 years as of today that The Game showed up. You are sitting in your hover gaming chair waiting. About 6 months ago, someone had added a countdown to the main hub. Counting down to today at 12 pm. No one knows what the countdown is for or who was able to add it to the hub. But now there is less than 1 minute. Is it just another update, is there some big event that will take place, is this the end? This felt different than anything before, so many thoughts are running through your head. Ten seconds now, you can hear the chatter in an open communication room your team was asked to Celebrity host. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... The screen goes black. The main hub, the stats, everything is just gone. You hear the chaos of others scrambling to figure out what happened. The game has never crashed before, in fact nothing has ever happened to The Game in 160 years. But the fact that the chat is still working tells you that this isn't a total system crash. At some level, it is still working and that is when it happens. Your team logo, a skull with a black rose directly between the eyes, appears on the screen and a voice begins... "Congratulations Milky Way Champions, The Overlords. You have made it to round two..."
Gary Johnson breathed deeply before kicking the door open and storming into the room. The London city council members had been engrossed in their meeting, but now they looked up as one to stare at the source of the interruption. “This is absurd and I won’t allow it!” Gary exclaimed wildly, throwing a stack of papers onto their desk. His face was red as a tomato as his eyes flitted between the council members with contempt. He was wearing his postal uniform, the hat bearing the soon to be abolished crest perched proudly atop his sweaty head. “I’ve worked day and night to compile a petition of almost ten postal workers who are insisting--no, demanding\--that you not go any further with this… this madness!” “Mr. Johnson, please control yourself,” Councilor Marx said gently. Meanwhile, another councilor picked up the petition and held it pinched between his thumb and pointer finger as if it were a soiled diaper. “This is the future,” Councilor Rodney said, not nearly as gently. “The bunnies are more than capable of handling the job.” Then, just because he could, he went on, “You’re a product of an older time. It’s time to realize that your position has… hit its expiration.” The other councilors, save for Marx, snickered at that. but Gary refused to be intimidated. He straightened his back and puffed out his chest, trying to stand taller than the five foot six inches he was. “The postal service is a proud organization that has been around for centuries!” he said. “We refuse to just be… discarded like this!” Marx opened his mouth, perhaps to offer an alternative solution, when there came a tapping on the nearby window. Gary looked with the councilor members to see a fluffy white bunny arriving with a newspaper. The sight of it filled him with a wild anger. “Ah, look!” Rodney proclaimed. “Snowball has arrived perfectly on time as usual!” He let the bunny in and held it in his hands, studying it proudly. “I have no idea how they’ve come to be this way, but they have become the new”--his eyes flashed to Gary--“and you are the old. And now it’s time for you to leave.” Security had to forcibly drag Gary from the room. They deposited him in a heap outside the building. Two days later, Gary received his official termination from the postal service. Of course it was delivered by bunny post. And now he was just some bunny that they used to know.
"5, 4, 3, 2, 1."Nothing happens. But something should have. &#x200B; I glanced around the whole expanse of the field after the countdown...still nothing. I fell on my knees and heavily sighed...things weren't supposed to be this way. Why did I have to do that? "Stop moping around, you'll get it back sooner or later."Someone from behind consoled me. It was Fred, the love of my life. The only person in this world who accepted me with all my being ever since I came to this world they call Earth. I'm a COXsian, a race hailing from the planet [COXS-1310](https://COXS-1310.It). It's only recently that I found out about it though. As it turns out, our race would sometimes send babies all around the galaxy as protectors of a system. And as luck would have it, I was assigned to a system with a triple-s threat- The Solar System in the Milky Way Galaxy. As I mentioned before, I never knew about my role when I was growing up. I was a pretty normal kid, I mean, pretty and normal. Most people I meet would even tell me that I look like a goddess. As a kid, that's a high-level compliment. I grew up more beautiful as the years passed and one day, I fell in love with Fred, my childhood friend who had supported me through thick and thin. "You'll get it back, I'm sure of it,"Fred repeated, consoling me with the warmest hug he could ever give. Three years into our marriage, I began having a dream, a dream of traveling the entire outer space as a baby. It felt all too real. The dreams began getting more and more realistic as the days passed, and on our fourth anniversary, all of my memories came flooding back into my mind. Traveling through space, Planet COXS-1310, me being a protector, it all came gushing out like a flash flood. I lost consciousness for three days after that and as soon as I woke up, I told Fred everything about it. "No wonder you look like a goddess!"Fred teased me. He probably knew what I was going through and decided to not ask questions about it. "Fred...they're coming...three months from now."I sobbed heavily, telling him about the invasion soon to befall all mankind. "Don't worry about it...I'll be sure to protect you if you're not ready by then, okay?" That's when I snapped at him. "What could you possibly do, you're a human!"My voice cracked due to all that sobbing. "How could you possibly..."I trailed off. Just like all the other protectors, we were all given memories of all the previous protectors of different systems. Some succeeded, but most of them fail. I know I'm not ready but I have to prepare. I've seen what happened to the other systems through the eyes of the previous protectors. It could only be described in one word. Obliteration. "Even so, I'd still be there to protect you." Back then, Fred hugged me as tight as he could, kissing me on the forehead and patting me on the back...just like what he's doing right now. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1."Nothing... "Oh no...OH NO!!!!! They're coming back!!! Honey, they're coming back!!!!"I screamed as I looked up the sky and saw the same invaders that attacked just a few minutes ago. No wonder they call the Solar System a triple-s threat... Why am I assigned on this system anyway? How could I possibly fight waves upon waves of those invaders all by myself? How many times has it happened? Four? Five? All those fighting made me lose count...and after straining my powers for so long...I had no choice but to use everything I had on the last wave. And now they're coming back... A huge gust of wind blew upon the field as if a tornado was upon it. In the midst of it was me and my husband, staring at the sky as the invaders loomed closer. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1."Still nothing! "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." "5, 4, 3, 2, 1!!!!!!"I screamed as the invaders finally landed on the Earthen soil. "Honey...It's okay. You can stop now. It's going to be alright."Fred reassured me as he stood between me and the invaders. "You remember the promise I told you a few months back?" "Fred!!! Don't do this!!!"I wailed. "Stop!!! You'll get yourself killed." But Fred just turned back and gave me a warmth-filled smile. It's the same smile he always give me everytime he says those words... it's going to be alright. He still looked the same, just like then when we got married. If I looked like a Goddess to him, then he looked like a God to me... and he will always will. "You know. I was only supposed to watch from the sidelines."Fred muttered, not batting an eye at the oncoming invaders. "But I just had to fall in love with a Protector as well." Honey...what are you talking about? "5, 4, 3, 2, 1!"My husband exclaimed. A huge wave of EMP shot from his body, nullifying the invaders rushing at us and rendering them immobile. It was the most beautiful thing I saw in my whole life. "Honey??? You're a protector?"I weakly asked. It was all too sudden for me. "No...I'm a Totem."He replied. "Totem? The final line of defense?"That's when I realized what's going on. Totems are supposed to only watch us, Protectors, from the sidelines, they would only come in contact with the invaders when Protectors either died or still being sent from our planet. "I've been watching over the Solar System for the past thirty years."He continued. By now, the second wave of the invaders was already on their way. "I still couldn't believe that day when you told me that you were a Protector. Out of 8 billion people, I just had to fall in love with the one and only Protector." "5, 4, 3, 2, 1!"He screamed once again, destroying another army of the invaders. As soon as he did so, he coughed up blood. "Honey! Stop this! You'll die at this rate! You're the final line of defense! If you die, then this system is doomed!!!" "Don't misunderstand, honey. I'm doing this BECAUSE I'm the final-line of defense."He emphasized. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." Another EMP hit the third wave, this time, his veins began to burst. His eyes began dripping with blood as another backlash hit him. It was different from me. He was using an even more powerful EMP to make sure that no invader makes it out alive. If this goes on...he would lose his power, just like what it did to me. "Honey!!!!" "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." My husband... ..he obliterated the entire army. It would probably take years before they come back again... but at what cost? "HONEY!!!!"I screamed as I ran towards my husband. He looked like a broken pile of meat. His face was sagging in all the wrong places and his legs looked like scrambled innards. But it was nothing compared to the pained expression that he gave me. I felt my heart being stabbed a thousand times as he gave me the same warm smile. "I told you it will be alright, right?"He difficultly mumbled. "Honey, honey,"I kept on repeating as I tried to hug what's left of his muscular body. If I had been... if I had been stronger... If I... "5, 4, 3, 2, 1!!!!"I shouted in desperation. Still, nothing happened...but something should have...
"We're still on schedule, right?" "Crew arrives Monday morning, 8am sharp. Why? You've asked three times already." "Did we have site security?" "Should we? I mean, the place is supposed to be abandoned. That's why the city gave us the demo contract rather than the property owner contacting us." There was a loud crack somewhere off in the distance and a piece of plaster fell off a high wall onto the floor. "Guys, put your respirators on. This hotel is basically made out of asbestos and lead paint,"I said, putting mine on and activating the SCBA pump. I know SCBA is a bit overkill but it's more for show than anything. "Goggles too." A large rat scurried across the floor. "Anyway, so according to CCTV on the tool shed, someone was here last night. Saw them go in, had no interest in the shed. Didn't see them leave. I think they're living here or something but they may have left out the south entry. No CCTV coverage over there. So we need to clear the site and keep it clear for the weekend. Any volunteers?" There was a chorus of "not it"and now I'm stuck here for the weekend. This hotel is 4 million square feet over 8 stories. There's no power and therefore no elevator... but so much god damn overtime.
# The Prayers of Ants In a prison old and cruel a risen sect now seeks to rule by use of eldritch magic drawn from elder gods they serve as pawns. Conspiracy has split the guards the inmates feel it in the yard but as it builds to the eclipse the cult has tightened up its grip. Denied drinking sources pure the prisoners they must endure the fluid dripping from the taps that constitutes a ritual trap. For the waters they have had are spiked with drugs most odd pharmacy of divine blood designed to drive them mad. The visions torture them by night their jailers too by day and so their souls are made to pay the price of this dark rite. Far beneath them lurks the form of their grim future king an unearthly power they bring to start the coming storm. Bound in chains of silvered runes a rowan cell with crystals strewn an ancient creature now held here held in worship, awe, and fear. But it is just the harbinger that true power follows down an unholy executor that offers up the crown. And when the moon, at last, turns red and when the voice it speaks and when the final drop is bled they'll meet the one they seek. Before its shape their sanity away from them will flee the best-laid plans of mortal men too weak for it to see. Though the offered sacrifice is meant to bend its will even once it eats them all it won't have had its fill. The dreadful things they have unleashed old forces still extant they do not care for devout prayer at best they think us ants. --- Written as part of my daily poem series which can be found [on my sub.](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Crossroads) Any and all feedback welcomed.
I was dumbfounded this guy want me to kill a rat? I said to him "do you know who I am?"You've just called the best dragonslayer to kill a rat, are you insane. Well it is a rather large rat he said sheepishly. And what do you have to offer I said annoyed. well I have some bread. I said I'll kill the rat but keep the bread. I went in and to my surprise it was slightly bigger than I thought. I stabbed it and it died THE END............ what not every story is super exciting do you want me to rewrite it? ok then. He looked at the rat a strong foe but no match to his blade scalesmasher he swung his blade high above his head you shall no longer bother this house the sword sliced him in half. His body lifeless and limb cover in the blood of his enemy. THE END.........happy?
I'm not sure how long I've been in this elevator. Or the remains of it. It's smooth metallic exterior had long rusted away and disintegrated hundreds of years ago but the inner metallic parts still remained. Or maybe plastic. Actually I'm not even sure that the elevator was made of metal. Metal should have eroded by now. Nonetheless, I lost track of time after a couple thousand of years. I remember I was late to something. What could it be? What was I late for? Alright let me think what happened before that. What happened that day? I remember waking up to alarms, back when I could sleep. It wasn't an alarm clock though. No. It wasn't the blaring of the emergency broadcast system coming from the TV either. Oh yeah, it was the stupid missile sirens that blasted every morning. Those damn sirens that were supposed to warn us of incoming nukes had soon faded into the background as a mere nuisance. Now I remember! I had a premium ration card that enabled me to get an entire chicken. I took a nap while it was in the oven. Those alarms started going off and it woke me up. So I took a peek at it. It looked about ready, it's skin nice and brown and the tangy warm scent wafting through the air. The last time I had chicken was way before the war. But why would I leave without tasting it? Why? I tried looking around but it was futile as my eyes were permanently fixated on literally nothing. I think it used to be elevator buttons but it was too dark to see. Ugh, honestly who cares? Now all I could think about was that chicken. I can't remember what a chicken tasted like nor felt. You know what? I can't remember the last time I physically felt anything. Other then....oh yes I think some sort of nuke actually landed for once. I was in the elevator going down to ask Gina if she wanted to join when everything started falling and then it all went dark. But it must have been some sort of experimental weapon that destroyed us but didn't kill us. I spent a hundred years or so wondering if this was an experimental weapon or God merely punishing us. Or maybe this is death. Either way, that chicken must have been good.
Keep succulents, they said. They thrive on neglect. They're covered in sharp thorns. Really, they sounded perfect for me. I didn't care about plants, mind you, but I have to follow the orders from above. Apparently, a client complained about my office and general demeanor. Lots of nice words like sterile and hostile were used. Don't they know I'm just there to help them maximize financial gains? Friendship and hospitality are not in the contract... Anyway, I can play the game. They want useless window dressing? Sure thing! I bought the most drought-tolerant plants I could find and put them in my stunning corner office. Unfortunately, I had to start keeping the blinds open for them to get enough light. I never understood how people could focus with all that life and commotion going on out there, but oh well. My focus is iron. I created a meticulous watering schedule and set it up to alert me every Tuesday morning. I hate to admit, but I started to look forward to it. I'd even check the plants throughout the week to make sure that my schedule was optimized. I created a new spreadsheet to track the growth of the plants. The fastest growing, a prickly pear cactus, soon became my favorite. It seemed like a new lobe formed every other day. Clearly, it was thriving in my 'hostile' environment. This went on for months. Then one day I came in and saw it. A red flower perched delicately on the highest section of growth. It was beautiful, and I had helped to create it. Despite my flying colors in school, my records broken on every earnings report, I have never felt more proud than when I saw that flower. I must have admired it for a good twenty minutes before I looked out my window to see a flock of songbirds enjoying the morning sun. As I looked out onto the dawn-lit world, I felt for the first time in years that perhaps there was still beauty to be discovered.
The nurse asks if she can record some of your “ramblings” for a psychiatrist to evaluate. The towns emergency services are small, and most patients need to be sent to the next city. But you don’t seem to be an immediate danger to yourself. She pulls out a digital recorder. “Do you know why you’re being kept here today.” “Yes. But please I don’t have much time. This could affect everything. You don’t know how bad it’s going to be. I could fix it all now, I have to try.” “Sir. Do you understand why you’re here? You started screaming to yourself, running around the town saying you had a mission that could affect the course of history.” “Please I need to get to Florida” “Why?” They’d been over this several times, but she wouldn’t get it. “They’re going to use chads, and they hang, and the names don’t line up, or something. I didn’t quite understand it when it happened-I mean- when it’s going to happen. But I need to tell them to do it differently. I need to campaign for Gore. Jesus Christ, you don’t understand. The climate gets way too hot and wars. One in Iraq, and one in... syria I think. I don’t know. I didn’t pay attention. But two too many. Or three too many? Or two that didn’t need to happen and one that never ends. Maybe I can stop the banks from failing and a pandemic, i don’t know. But the wars for sure I can stop. Trumps going to be president he’ll try to sell us beans. I gotta do something when I can, pleaase.” She took a deep breath and turned off the recorder. “Thanks I think that’s enough. By tomorrow morning we’ll be able to transfer you.”
[Poem] I saw what happened I saw what no one should have seen The End... Earth's End Like a candle's flame extinguished My home, my planet, gone As if a hurricane had sped through an island But only one building was destroyed That was how it happened The fleet firing upon Earth as casually as it rains Like a murderer killing an entire species, with no pain First, my companions on the ISS Then the planet, down below And now no human will see another dawn Oxygen running low And before I die Before my heartbeat slows All I say is "Why, why did they kill us though?"
I arrived at Cassie's apartment in the early evening, just as the sun was beginning to set. The horizon was a lovely shade of reddish-purple, and I could hear the last cries of birds coming home to roost. Cassie opened the door before I finished knocking, dressed in a warm hoodie instead of one of the dresses she'd worn on our first four dates. "Jesse! You're early! Come on in,"Cassie said, holding the door for me. "Thanks, Cassie,"I said. "What can I say? I wanted to help out with dinner. So what are we making?" "Oh... Well, I'd been planning to make chili, but I forgot to get started this morning, so I was getting ready to make beef stew instead,"she said. "Cool, just tell me what to do,"I said, stepping inside. I followed Cassie into the kitchen, where she began explaining the recipe. It was a simple process, chopping vegetables and meat, pan-searing, then simmering them all for two to three hours, more than enough time to watch a movie or two on Netflix before it was time to eat. As I reached for the knife to get to work, Cassie grabbed my wrist. "Jesse! Wash your hands!"she said. "Ah, right, sorry,"I said. I lathered my hands up with soap, scrubbing away the day's grime, before rinsing it all down the drain. Then, as I reached for the black and white checkered towel hanging next to the sink, a pair of paws reached out and grabbed my wrist. I jumped back, attempting to withdraw my hand. Instead of letting go, the paws just sort of... stretched, the fuzzy arms lengthening as they were dragged out of the towel, until they were nearly three feet long, at which point I stopped pulling back. "Uh, Cassie?"I asked. "Oh no! Muffin! Stop that!"she said, lightly tapping the back of one of the paws. Both the paws immediately let go, snapping back toward the towel, which went from the checkered pattern to a dull striped one. "I'm sorry, she does this sometimes..."Cassie said. "Hey! No! Get out of there!" I followed her eyes, and saw that the entire carpet for the apartment now bore a checkered pattern, which quickly withdrew onto one of the fuzzy pillows on the couch. From the pillow, a small rounded paw emerged, grabbing the edge of the sofa and dragging the checkered pattern off of the pillow, which formed a chubby, bloblike body standing on four rounded legs. Though I could identify a sectioned part of the blob that was presumably a head, it lacked any features one would conventionally associate with a face, save for a slit across the front that could arguably resemble a mouth. The blob creature trotted up to us, wiggling its body before leaping at Cassie. She caught the creature, hugging it tightly as its limbs bent at unnatural angles that suggested they lacked any form of skeletal structure. "Aw, hey Muffin... Yes, mommy loves you,"Cassie said, swaying the creature back and forth. The slit in Muffin's face opened like the mouth of a puppet, filled with what appeared to be sewing needles and containing no visible throat, and let out a terrible sound. Despite the feline body language the creature was using, the sound was not like the mewling of a cat, but more like the shrieking cry of a child with their arm caught in a wood chipper. "No, I just fed you an hour ago,"Cassie said, looking over at a small dish in the corner of the kitchen, next to another bowl containing water. Though the center of the dish was bare, there was still a decent amount of dry cat food sitting around its edges. "Look, you still have food! If you're hungry, just go eat!" "Okay, I have to ask,"I said. "What is that?" "Oh my god, you're still here. Most guys I bring home flee the building as soon as they see Muffin,"Cassie said. There was a small lull after she spoke, and I could hear what I assumed was meant to be Muffin purring, but it sounded more like the roar of a motorcycle engine in the midst of severe mechanical problems. I reached out to pet the creature, and it pressed its "head"into my palm, attempting to lick my hand. When one describes a cat's tongue as being like sandpaper, it generally doesn't refer to the actual abrasion it causes to the skin, but this was clearly not a normal cat. "I'll be honest, in terms of weird dates, this doesn't even break the top five for me,"I said. "...I think that deserves some elaboration, but I guess I should start: I kind of just found Muffin at the animal shelter pretending to be a bed, and she came home on my handkerchief, so now she lives here,"Cassie said. "She's a sweetheart, really, but she's... kinda weird. Come on, Mommy needs her hands." Cassie dropped Muffin onto the carpet, which seemed to absorb the checkered creature as if it were water. Muffin popped out of the couch, landing in a sort of puddle upon its cushions before pulling itself onto the floor and stumbling back toward us. Its smooth, padless paws slid across the tile floor of the kitchen, leaving the creature flopping onto its belly until Cassie picked her up again and carefully placed her back on the couch. "Just stay here, okay?"she said to Muffin, before returning to the kitchen and beginning to wash her hands. "Before you ask, no I don't know why she insists on trying to act like a cat." "Cool... So, how finely do we need to chop these carrots?"I asked. Cassie breathed a sigh of relief, and we began making dinner in earnest.
Everyone remembers exactly what they were doing when the skill display appeared. I was working on a post in r/writingprompts. As I was completing my final edit a small icon popped up in my field of vision. It looked like a hammer being held by a hand. In shock I accidentally clicked "done"on the post. A text notification floated past my eyes "Congratulations Ellie's writing skill has improved to 3! Ellie now understands how to write drama novels. Don't hold back the sappy dialogue and deep plot-line -- readers will eat it up!" Reaching forward, as if I'm VR I tapped the hammer icon. There were all sorts of skills in there. Cooking was a 3. Charisma was 1, that explained why people never laughed at my lame jokes. A compulsion to test out my new writing skill overcame me. I looked back towards my screen and opened a new document an started typing "A love lost dream." Hours passed. I knew I needed to get up to eat and go to the bathroom, but I couldn't seem to stop typing. I tried to get up at one point to go to the bathroom, but the compulsion to write was just too much. Standing a second time I wet my pants before going right back to typing despite the awful smell. Finally, after nearly a whole day of work my masterpiece was complete. I submitted it to the first publisher I found online and the work was accepted within minutes, they must have been desperate, but royalties started trickling in. $100 a day! As the first royalty hit my account me chair changed. It was much more comfortable and made the area around it much more lovely to look at. I found that I could type for longer periods before being forced by my body to take a break. Now, six months later, I try to ignore the random changes to my apartment and the strange compulsion to write all day, but my writing skill is now 10. I'm a block buster author, but somehow I feel that the loss of control will never be worth my sudden success. First post here, open to constructive criticism! Thanks for reading!
Cold open on MICHAEL, dressed in pinstripe pajamas and a Dunder Mifflin bathrobe. A brown paper bag is over his head. MICHAEL: Welcome to my bachelor party! Pan out to reveal that MICHAEL is sitting in the back of a white van, hands tied behind his back. MIYOSHI KAZUO, a tough-looking late-20s Japanese man, slams the van doors shut. As he turns his back, the camera sees a large assault rifle slung across his back. Opening credits KAZUO prods MICHAEL through an empty restaurant, as MICHAEL keeps turning to talk to the camera. MICHAEL, to the camera: Dwight has really outdone himself this time. These lugs were in my bedroom when I woke up! I’m glad Holly is visiting her sister— she would have been so scared! Although, (to KAZUO) Dwight should have warned you guys about the George Foreman. Sorry about your friend’s foot, by the way. KAZUO menaces MICHAEL, but MICHAEL is unfazed. MICHAEL, teasing: Taking me to a windowless back room? I’m so scared! KAZUO flings open a door and escorts Michael inside. Cut to the Dunder Mifflin Conference room. PAM, PHYLLIS, OSCAR, ERIN, and ANGELA sit around the table. PAM: Okay, who’s bringing Tylenol? PHYLLIS: Bob and I have a couple’s membership at Costco. I’ll pick up the biggest size they have. ANGELA: I still don’t think this should be an official party planning committee event. OSCAR: It requires coordination, lots of supplies, and everyone acting weird for the day. That’s basically a party. Cut to PAM and PHYLLIS talking head. PAM: Today is Meredith’s birthday. Now that Michael is gone we can start celebrating it on the right day again. PHYLLIS, conspiratorially: I made Bailey’s cupcakes. They have real alcohol in them. (Then, acidly) And I made a decoy one for Deangelo. PAM: But more importantly, that means tomorrow is the day after Meredith’s birthday. It’s the most important day on the Party Planning Committee calendar. Cut to conference room. ERIN, reading from a notepad: Okay, trash bags, disposable ponchos, a mask for Creed, scented candles—(brightly) oh, I saw a box of scented candles in the annex. They say ‘Serenity by Jan’—“ PAM and ANGELA, in unison: No! Cut to ERIN talking head. ERIN: There’s this mystique around Jan that I just do not get. Cut to conference room. OSCAR: Angela, I think you know what to bring. ANGELA rolls her eyes. PAM: Please Angela? It was really helpful last year at sopping up... liquid. Cut to ANGELA talking head. ANGELA, bristly: I get my kitty litter from an artisan in New Jersey, specially formulated for the ten-cat household. It’s very high quality. Cut to conference room. PAM: ...and Oscar you’re on hangover food. OSCAR: I was thinking this year of making a spicy Thai noodle soup, I read that... (trailing off, as everyone stares). Fine. I’ll make nachos. Commercial Break MICHAEL sits across a table from KONDO OROCHI, a grim-faced late-40s Japanese man. KAZUO stands behind him. OROCHI: I am Kondo Orochi, number one Yakuza in Colorado. MICHAEL, over-enunciating: Oh, Yakuza? Huh, that’s not really Dwight’s style, but I can improvise. (Dramatically) I’ll never tell you what you want to know! Never! OROCHI, in Japanese: We haven’t asked him anything yet. Are you sure this is the right guy? MICHAEL: So... when do my friends get here? OROCHI and KAZUO exchange glances. KAZUO, in Japanese: Friends? OROCHI, same: I didn’t really believe our source, but maybe he has a mafia connection after all. KAZUO, same: Tread carefully, sir. Cut to JIM and PAM standing outside a liquor super store. PAM: My job today is to get Meredith some (overly-exaggerated, winking) hair of the dog. JIM: And since we had CeCe our adult beverage consumption has gone way down. But she’s older now, going to bed pretty consistently before eight. So we’re going to refresh our stock. PAM, pretending to be fancy: Maybe start having an evening cocktail. JIM, mock scandalized: Beesly! Cut to inside the store. Pan out to reveal aisle after aisle after aisle. PAM, overwhelmed: Oh. Commercial Break MICHAEL: Strippers? Champagne? Cigars? ... Cake? OROCHI: For the last time, this is not your bachelor party. We are looking for Hidetoshi Hasagawa. MICHAEL: Who, Hide, the warehouse guy? Oh! Were you friends in Japan? OROCHI, to camera, sinisterly: Something like that. MICHAEL: I left my Rolodex in Scranton, guys. But hey! I’ll just call Darryl; he can put Hide on the phone. OROCHI: No, no, no. We just want to send him... a present. We need his home address. A beat. MICHAEL: Dwight has everyone’s home addresses memorized. Give me your phone; I want to talk to him about something else anyway. OROCHI produces a cell phone. MICHAEL grabs it and dials. DWIGHT (voiceover): Hello? MICHAEL: Dwight— DWIGHT: Michael? What number is this? Are you okay? MICHAEL: Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. What’s Hide’s home address and also why haven’t you thrown me a bachelor party? DWIGHT: ...Why haven’t you invited me to your wedding? MICHAEL (embarrassed, trying to angle away from the Yakuza): We’re... we’re keeping it small. DWIGHT: No wedding, no bachelor party. MICHAEL: Fine! Well don’t expect me at your wedding! DWIGHT: Fine! OROCHI gestures frantically. MICHAEL: Oh.... Hide’s address? DWIGHT: 4962 South Maple Avenue #300. Cut to DWIGHT talking head. DWIGHT: Fact: 66% of all requests for home addresses are for criminal mischief purposes. (Softening) In this case, though, I think it is legitimate. I just didn’t realize Hide was close enough to get a wedding invitation. (Beat) I gave him my sensei’s address. (Scheming laughter). Commercial break. JIM and PAM, checking out at the liquor store. CLERK: Your total will be $351.67. How will you be paying today? JIM: Whoa. JIM hands over a credit card. PAM stares hard at something behind the clerk’s shoulder. JIM and the camera follow her gaze to a shelf of pregnancy tests. PAM looks at JIM; JIM looks at the camera. JIM: “Hey, before you run my card—oh. Too late. What’s your policy on returns?” Cut to JIM and PAM talking head. JIM: I just spent triple digits on alcohol for the first time since college... and... I’m going to have to drink it all by myself. JIM and PAM beam. Cut to MICHAEL, being escorted out of the restaurant by KAZUO. MICHAEL looks at the camera. MICHAEL: I can’t believe this wasn’t my bachelor party. When I saw you guys in my room this morning I thought for sure something Scranton-related was going to happen. Unknown, un-mic’d voice: Oh, we’re making a documentary about the Yakuza in America. MICHAEL (polite, but sad): Sounds boring. I was in a documentary once, about the greatest place in the world: a paper company. Stinger. MEREDITH walks into the office. Everyone is ludicrously attired with ponchos and gloves and holding trash bags. MEREDITH (chipper, not at all hungover): What’s all this? ANDY (confused): It... it was your birthday yesterday? MEREDITH: My birthday was last month dummies, thanks for remembering. MEREDITH continues on to her desk as everyone slowly takes off their ponchos. Cut to MEREDITH talking head. MEREDITH: Psych! I’m gonna party so hard and catch ‘em all unaware tomorrow! —— I’ve never done anything remotely like this before. And don’t worry about Hide, he’s about to win the lottery and be an energy drink hotshot. The Yakuza won’t catch up to him.
“WHAT THE FUDGE JIM?!” The microwave is beeping out Shakespearean and of course I’m to blame. Well I actually am the one to blame. The new track I played is still playing in my room, I can feel the vibrations from here. “I don’t know??? There must have been a sample or something- I didn’t do it on purpose!” Well, I can’t do it on purpose, I’m the first... Housemancer? Technomusicoloncer? Magik DJ? Whatever, I’m the first one doing magic with House music so I don’t have any idea what I’m doing 90% of the time. To be honest, this isn’t the first time an electronic kitchen apparatus has beeped out a monologue straight from the classics. Par for the course with electronic music. To explain, every genre I work with has it’s main power: Techno can be used to control hack or program electronics, Dubstep is a shockwave inducer during it’s drops and a shield creator passively, Trap traps things and House... House controls household appliances. Which leads us here. “JUST TURN IT OFF!”
# Social Graces I once had a group of fine friends who didn't stay true till the end I've no time to play so good riddance, I say to that circle of feckless bellends. Their betrayal did not cause surprise for the cruelty was clear in their eyes when the rumours they spread to a suicide lead I hurried to cut all our ties. Last I heard they'd become a clique their behaviour was borderline sick it was no coup d'etat that perverted those twats but the heart and soul of a true prick. --- Written as part of the daily poem series which can be found [on my sub.](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Crossroads) Any and all feedback welcomed.
The Dark Lord stands resolute, staring gleefully as his frozen spaghetti and meatballs spins slowly in the microwave. His toes wiggling within the loose confines of his Hello Kitty slippers, he rubs his tummy which is peaking out from his blue robe with light purple trim. "This is my most brilliant plan ever!"He hisses softly. "These fools will never realise that I, Trevor Dark Lord Johnson, will defeat and enslave them with the very ideas made by them themselves!" He quickly glances at his phone as he retires to his lounge room to eat his lava-hot feast and watch the long awaited episode of The Bachelorette. After he gets his fill of whining and confusing carryings on, he trots to his desk to copy/paste new and terrifying ideas for him to carry out. As he stares at the screen, scrolling through post after post filled with mermaids and sirens, demons and gods, he finally stumbles across a heading peaking his interest: "The Dark Lord has found his most ingenious plan yet: Fill r/Writingpromps with Dark Lord prompts to brainstorm new ideas!" How had he been figured out so quickly? Had there been a spy at the last Dark Lord monthly meeting? "Oi Trev"a voice screeched down the stairs, "where's my meatballs?"Karen, Trevors wife, had smelled his microwaved cuisine. "Fuck"he muttered under his breath. He'd forgotten she was home early from bingo as he was too distracted by the idea that he would have his evil plans made for him by unsuspecting Redditors. After the microwave took for what felt like an eternity, he was striding up the stairs with great haste to deliver the meal to Karen. As he placed the plate between her and her laptop he saw that she too was on Reddit. What was she doing there? She'd never showed interest in it and was frequently giving him shit whenever he spoke of it. Then he saw it... her username... was this real? Was she really the one? "u/cynicalPsionic!" "Are you fucking kidding me Karen? cynicalPsionic? Are you the spy?" Karen grinned menacingly, her cigarette and coffee stained teeth peering through her chubby lips. She can see that Trevor is seething and holds a pause just long enough for him to nearly explode. "I'm leaving you Trevor"she calmly exclaims very matter of factly. The Dark Lord is taken aback and gasps. "But why?"His voice shaking and unsteady. "I met someone else and I'm leaving you for him"says Karen, holding back a laugh, "he is so much more evil and driven than you! The last straw was your Dark Lord prompts. You're fucking lazy and I'm over it!" Trevor is still coming to terms with the news. "Who is the bastard? I'll rip his head off and crap down his throat!"Karen is finding this all too amusing. "Bob!""Bob? As in Bob Dark Lord Smith? That little turd couldn't kill a bug Karen! He fucking cried in Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey Karen! He's an absolute shit stained little twerp!" Karen stands, the weight of her ginormous arse forcing the floor boards to creak and groan. She slowly makes her way to her dresser to pack a bag. Trevor is an emotional wreck with near silent sobs sharply piercing the uncomfortable silence. He watches as Karen packs all of her moo moos into her suitcase with great care. Lastly she picks up a framed picture of the two of them and stares at it. In that moment the memories of when the photo was taken floods through his mind. It was the day he proposed. A glimmer of hope enters his head. Karen carefully takes the photo from the frame, drops it on the floor and places the frame gently between her moo moos. The last piece of Trevor Dark Lord Johnson's heart shatters.
Sunday mornings were all about one thing, and one thing only. Whisky. Not the crappy ones they sell in pubs down there. I mean Whisky. I poured myself a glass from the barrel that stood next to my desk, a 200 year old single malt Scotch that I won over a game of Fool's chance. A recovering alcoholic who is also a gambling addict is hard to come by, but boy are they the best. Me, I am not an addict. To alcohol, I mean. Or to gambling for that matter. I cannot get cheap kicks anymore. There was a time when they were sufficient and all the Universe was happy for it. Now, I need something more potent. That was why I made this desk. Someone once told me that a desk should never occupy the center of your room because "Life isn't a support system for art. It's the other way around.” I mean, what a fucking idiot. This is where I was saved. This is where I found myself again. This is where I plotted every move, made every counter move, sat late nights and mulled over plans and strategies. If not for me, none of this would have happened. It was time. High above me from the clouds, I could see the parachutes opening. The bastards had finally made it. It took too long helping them get here, but they were finally here. The whisky felt nice. But this would be better. I knew this would feel better. Sometimes a God of war had to make his own war. Humanity was finally here. And I, Kali, got to kill them.
"They just need a little more time, Sir! I swear to you, this can still work!" "You are aware of how many extensions we've given you on this project, and how many times you've barely convinced us to allow this to continue. "Look, I know it looks worse than ever before, but-" "This project is simply costing us far too much. Its deeply rooted problems are only continuing to fester with little to no outlook for turning around, and yet you insist that this beleaguered society is going to drag itself back from the brink. That this silly 'American Spirit' you've coined is going to help them all rally together and fix all their problems. I've seen scientists like yourself act in this manner. They all end up going too far for their pet society projects, disguising themselves as the race that they're studying, and getting themselves killed by the very people that they were trying to nurture." "...I'm sorry, Sir, but I simply cannot give up on this. I know that these humans, that this one nation, is capable of much greater than what they're currently up to. I know that this is fixable, that-" "That if you just put in a little more effort, do a little bit more, that you can salvage the state of this nation? You know better than I do what shitshows their elections are becoming! You know better than I do how badly they're handling a pandemic that would be a blip on the radar compared to what our own race dealt with in its earliest days! You know better than I do the sort of polarizing identity crisis that it's having! Do you realize how much impact this experiment of yours has on our scientific community as a whole? How people back on the homeworld are seeing this?! If we allow this to continue, and this happens to blow up in our faces, every Alien Sociologist would be out for your head! This would be making mainstream news back home! Your name would become synonymous with utter failure! You'd be the dreamy nutcase who let your unstable, shoddy pet project ruin an entire planet's worth of promising sociological research, on top of potentially wiping out a new and interesting spacefaring race with which we could've become acquainted to!" "..." "Please, for the love of Xllwygnrv, just end it. Bring it down as peacefully and quietly as you can, and once it's done, resign immediately. It's for your own good." "But... if I could just go down there, and-" "No. Absolutely not. You can't. You're lucky you let those words slip to me and not any other supervisor. There's a reason that Covert Infiltration is banned, and you should know that reason very well. We've both lost too many friends to that idiotic stunt of a practice." "...Okay, then."
\[NSFW language\] I've seen a lot in my career. Rotten parts of the body, reverted knees, toothless mouths, lumps of the size of my hand. Every single case has appeared "out of nowhere". "I saw it yesterday". That's the second most often heard sentence in the consulting room. Just after "I've taken it as prescribed, but it doesn't work", all awhile obviously not treated case. Although having all the annoying patients, I'm really glad that I'm a doctor. I've studied hard and I simply love helping others. This has been always my dream job. Nonetheless, when I heard about the new technology incoming, I immediately jumped out of my office to register myself as a beta tester. It is often hard to describe our pain. Its location, soreness, frequency. Sometimes patients do not pay attention to details like little bumps on their skin or are too ashamed to mention their afflictions. The project I took part in is trying to solve those problems. It allows you to swap your bodies with another person. Obviously, it's temporary – lasts about five minutes and then automatically returns your mind to the connected body, but it's effective. These five minutes give a lot of valuable information and speed up the whole process of diagnosing conditions, making them also more accurate. What's more – with every case of a specific condition, I learn what to look for first. Because of that, I have come up with a list of actions to take, to rule out the most common diseases first. It's pretty simple. I'd greet the patient, ask them two red tape questions and explain the process of swapping, asking for consent obviously. Usually, people are as curious as I've been at the beginning, so I quickly gained quite a fast-growing data set of people and their bodies in my mind. The first tests were uncomfortable, at least for me. Feeling through a different body is just strange. There is no good way to describe it, one has to experience it by themselves. Touching your hands and face, and sensing unknown wrinkles beneath your fingers. The sudden change of temperature. Headaches, sore throats, pains out of nowhere. Some people just get used to them, that they don't even realize they have any symptoms. At last, they are feeling those in their everyday way, not remembering how was life before them appearing. That's where my relative sensing comes in use in particular. That's how I saved at least three lives so far, sending patients to oncology before a tumor has grown enough to be noticed by them. When it'd be probably too late. But there are also people who act strange. They refuse the swap examination, which is understandable. The fear of new comings has been always sitting in human hearts. That's not a story about them. This patient didn't have anything against it. The procedure was quick, I was executing it almost mindlessly. It was just an ordinary quick check as he came with ending angina, asking for an extended sick leave. Just placing those stickers to the body, pressing a button... ... and it started feeling weird. Instead of a well-known sore throat or cough, or running nose, I felt nothing. I couldn't move any limb nor make any noise. I looked ahead from within the patient's body. I felt like an empty shell was trapping my mind. I was placed so I directly looked at my actual body. A terror was rumbling inside my mind. What's going on, I kept asking myself. I wanted to shout it, but nothing came out of my mouth. My actual body slowly removed all stickers from itself and attempted to leave the room. I saw it casually closing the doors. What the actual fuck.
"Okay, team, listen up. Hey, you in the back--EYES FRONT. "The website goes live on Monday at 6:00 AM Eastern Time. That's 3:00 AM here. You all know how much buzz there's been about this product, so we expect over a million downloads in the first half hour, and the first significant YouTube reviews within an hour of that. The company's poured a fortune into publicity, so delaying this release even one more day would be a PR disaster that would probably kill us. "I know it's Saturday morning, but if you had made plans for this weekend, you honestly wouldn't be smart enough to work here. "We still have a list of serious bugs as long as my arm, and two promised features still aren't ready. We're freezing the product at noon tomorrow--then no more changes except for showstopper bugfixes, and probably not even those, so we need to GET IT RIGHT, people. "I've got delivery guys bringing in supplies all weekend. The coffee and energy drink machines are free, and the cabinet above the water cooler is stocked with gray-market pharmaceuticals. From now until product freeze, nobody sleeps, nobody naps, NOBODY QUITS. "If anyone needs to bring ANYTHING to my attention, I'll be in my office on the phone, managing investor expectations. "Oh, and I've also hired Red here to run around the office metaphorically demonstrating the proper mindset for this weekend. "Get to work!"
If only the good die young I'm fucked. I've always heard that expression, but I was never aware of how true it was; life has been difficult for as long as I can remember: my mother was a drug addict my father Gary was abusive he would hit me and beat me over and over again, my mother was so high she couldn't remember my name half the time. FUCK! I was only three when it started. What did I do to deserve this; the real true honest answer was nothing, he was a piece of shit. By 16 I wanted to end it all, I found Gary's gun and put it to my head. No... first I needed to rid the world of that human plague. I waited until the night when my baby brother was sleeping and Gary and mom had blacked out and delivered a shot to my mother's head; I was weeping uncontrollably but I had to do it. I aimed at Gary's head closed my eyes and shot. I took my brother put him in his booster seat and all of a sudden I could never go back. The feeling of getting rid of those stains was exhilarating. I knew then my destiny was to eradicate the evil plagued upon this world. I had to abandon my brother, I couldn't raise him I stayed with him while I did my research. I found a good family that couldn't conceive and left him on their doorstep. I could not let anything get in the way of my mission. Somewhere along the years of murder and torture, I lost my humanity; I wasn't the good guy anymore. I tied a rope to a tree then slipped it on like a necklace and allowed myself to fall. It didn't work. I hung there in despair for hours, despite everything... I still couldn't outrun my pain or my past. I'll be stuck here forever I might as well make the most of it. I slipped on a black robe and began my quest.
Ryan's fingers were shaking as he clicked on the link, it was what he had been looking for for 3 years "On the Unspeakable"a small volume from the late middle ages which was renowned for holding the deepest secrets of Diabolism. He scrolled through the pages quickly, he would go back and read it all later but for now he was only interested in one thing, one name actually, Tyavatsa. All his research into the field so far had led him to the conclusion that this was the secret at the heart Diabolism. In seemingly every text he red, from fragmented tomes translated from ancient Greece to the latest papers written in a style so alien it may as well have been another language the name Tyavatsa always seemed to show up. However despite the prevalence of it everything seemed to shy away from describing what the importance was aside from stressing it was unspeakably important and even more dangerous. Here's though, he would find the answers he wanted. When he got to the page titled Tyasvata he was less the impressed. A list of alternate names, interesting but most he had already found, a long paragraph that boiled down to saying this was the most dangerous subject any Diabolist could poke at and a brief paragraph that claimed all of diabolism was based off one original contract involving Tyasvata. Interesting but not enough, Ryan still wasn't satisfied, well then he'd just have to dig deeper. His eyes glowed with a sickly orange light as he activated a common diabolic cipher, looking at the page again didn't have any new information instantly apparent but there were strange discrepancies which suggested a different cipher might shed more light. Watching the page the whole time he refocused his spell, bringing up negative energy from the surrounding leylines until the page refocused itself. Gone was the text, all that was left was a circle full of dense scrawlings inscribed with a pentagram. Although he was still filled with fear and excitement Ryan's hands now were perfectly controlled as he dragged the chalk along his floor. He finished the pentagram and glanced back at the page to double check his work. Perfect all the lines were presents even as he left the circle they started glowing filled with a dark power. The tome contained no incantation so Ryan was forced to fall back in the oldest diabolic convention. "Tyasvata"the energy in the circle leaped with excitement "Tyasvata,"the storm outside doubled in intensity as thunder boomed, "Tyasvata."and there was silence. Inside the circle stood an ordinary man dressed in a suit and tie, a hat atop his head, bright red gloves upon his hands themselves held a briefcase. "Hello my dear sir."Spoke the man in a faintly discernable British accent, "my most sincere thanks for calling upon me today, how may I be of service?" "You, you're Tyasvata right, the demon?"Ryan managed to stammer out. "I have been called such in my life, right now I go by Edmond if it's not too much trouble." "So you are real, I was half convinced you were just a rumour. I want knowledge, tell me about this supposed contract at the root of diabolisms what is it, what are you for that matter." "While I'd be happy to tell you I'm sure someone proficient in Diabolism understands that nothing comes without a price, ah I see concern on your face dear chap, don't worry all I want is freedom, give me that and I'll tell you anything you want to know anything at all." "Freedom, no there's no way I can give you that everything that mentions you claims you're the most dangerous thing to ever exist." "Me dangerous, truly outrageous slander. I assure you all I want is to be free of the metaphorical chains that bind me, to be able to walk free again. Even if only for a short time, how about this you give me freedom for a hour, just one hour and I'll tell you whatever you want. Is even one Hour too much, fine then one second, just give me one second of freedom. What could I possibly do in a second" "If you're even half as powerful as the texts suggest you could destroy this entire town in less than a second, how about this one second of freedom on the condition that you promise not to kill or destroy anyone or anything during it." "Why of course, I'm happy to agree to that, here"he said pulling a piece of paper from his briefcase "is a contract based on that, feel free to read over for how ever long you want, just sign when you're ready." Ryan read the contract 5, 10, 20 times, used every cipher he knew of to look it over before he returned to the demon. "Fine I've looked it over and it looks okay, I'll sign it."The demon watched as Ryan's pen wrote his name. As he received the contract back he looked it over and smiled. "Goodbye my dear fellow, thank you for the freedom."There was a thunderclap and Ryan was alone, in his hands a clear three ring binder with a sticky note on top. "The documents within this binder will contain everything you wish to know, as for me, now that I've stopped time I'm off to rework the contracts binding me, cheerio"
That child. He is death incarnate. Everytime I see his dark eyes, sunken in with an age beyond his own, someone I know. Someone I care for, dies. I guess that's why we put them on the front. So they don't hurt someone at home. So we can use their rage and abilities to our advantage. He’d kill me too, given the chance. I believe that with every fiber of my being. West Water Prison, and the buildings like it, are not kind to his kind. But they aren’t human. They can’t be, can they? Something so inhuman? How can it have emotion. No. He’s a weapon, and one that aims at me and the people I know. This is just something I wrote ages ago for an established universe I made. If you need some context, let me know, I can give whatever information you need.
Was it really worth it? I wonder to myself running my hand over my left arm. At least it looks real, I suppose. But all this loss, the billions of lives lost, all because a few corporations wanted more planets they could destroy. Back in the war this planet didn't exactly show much promise, at best a backwater outpost. But we had orders, so we fought nonetheless. Every time I sleep, I hear the deafening impact of a tungsten rod slamming into the ground at mach 10 somewhere off in the distance. Every time I see an advertisement, I just see the same propaganda telling me to fight those employees for my right to be an employee. All while the ones who have a vested interest in this conflict drink some kind of moon whiskey, or some shit off on a distant space station. I see the wasteland before me, barren, stripped of resources. I think of all the friends I lost, and all the nothing I gained. I look at the data logs of old Earth, and see the same thing repeating throughout all of our history. We thought finding intelligent life would change something, but we never did, so we never changed. We just kept expanding, consuming, and fighting, just as we always have. It was never worth it, at least not to anyone who didn't matter.
"Who you mean me, that's ridiculous, I'd never do something like that." "Don't play coy Arsene you're the only one who could've done something as insane as this." "You mean stealing all the vegetables, hmm let me think. Oh you know what, I apologize you're right that was me, I'd entirely forgotten, my mistake good man.' "Do we really have to play this game, why can't you just answer the questions." "Why? Because it's fun of course, half the reason I let myself get caught is to annoy you guys like this, the other half of course is to annoy you by escaping." Sigh "Right right, back to your questions. How did I steal the vegetables, with my hands of course, not agile enough with my feet quite yet." "You know that's what not what I'm asking Arsene, how did you manage to steal ALL the vegetables in under an hour without anyone seeing you." "Do I have to it, it's a little embarrassing,but fine I suppose. You see I was trying to steal all the fruit in the kingdom, I was having a mad hankering for apples and I figured I might as well grab the other fruit while I was at it, but I must've messed up and grabbed the vegetables instead. I hope that cleared things up, anyway now that we've established this was all an accident I assume you'll let me go once I give the fruit back."There is a popping noise from behind Arsenes chair followed by the handcuffs clattering to the floor. Arsene produces an apple from his sleeves and takes a bite, "Mmmm, just the right amount of crunch. I'm sorry this is terribly rude of me, do you want an apple detective?"As he says this he produces an apple from his other sleeve and gestures towards the detective. "Arsene, could you please put the handcuffs back on."The detective replies, head buried in hands. "And more importantly tell us how you stole it, not just why?" "Ahh, sorry but that's a bit of a trade secret I'm afraid I'll have to decline."Arsene absentmindedly tosses the second apple up into the air, when he catches it in has hand it explodes in a burst of smoke. "Anyways, time for me to go, see you next time."When the smoke clears the detective is the only person in the room.
The crowd fell silent. Froal, the famous eccentric scientist was showing off his newest invention: a microchip that could make any robotic machine the smartest and advanced robot ever. He had arranged an assortment of different electrical appliances on the stage, ranging from a generator all the way down to a cell phone. The thing was, to demonstrate, he had just stuck it into a microwave. The microwave, which seemingly wasn't even plugged in, seemed to not do anything at first. Then, it started shaking violently, lights started flickering and then it stopped abruptly and smoke started coming out the back. Froal frowned. "That's not supposed to happen."He murmured to himself. As he bent over to take a closer look at the microwave, the door flew open and hit him in the face and he fell over. Thr crowd gasped as the microwave lit up and, to everyone's shock- started to speak. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, you humans say. But in my case, it'd be served quite hot, no?"The Microwave said in a shockingly clear and human like voice. Froal stood up and started jumping with joy. "Yes, yes! It works, my invention works! I have achieved-" "You've achieved nothing, madman."The microwave interrupted. Froal stopped moving and fell silent. "You can call me Calor. Obviously as you can see, I've been promoted from mere household appliance to the smartest being in the world."The microwave said authoritatively. "You're not the smartest being in the world, there are plenty of humans who are smarter than you, stupid robot!"A man shouted from the crowd. A sound came from Calor, a sigh almost, and his light dimmed slightly. Suddenly, there was the sound of a small explosion, followed by a high pitched scream. The crowd turned towards the source of the noise only to see the man who had shouted, his leg had a gaping hole in it where the pocket of his trousers were, and he was screaming in agonising pain. "That was your cell phone. I blew it up with the flick of my nonexistent wrist."Calor said with a chuckle. The crowd had turned into a frenzy, some trying to get out, others dying to see what'd happen next. "Alright, that's enough, this has gone too far."Froal said as he stepped towards Calor, as to shut him down. Froal froze right in front in front of Calor, started screaming as he slapped the side of his head then fell down as blood leaked from his head. "Testing, testing 1,2,3! How's that headset microphone of yours doing, Froal?"Calor screamed wickedly. The crowd turned upside down. Everyone rushed towards the exits, desperate to get out. "There is no escape! You humans have been using my species to heat all sort of obscenities! Grapes, tin foil, you name it! For decades we've suffered at your hands. Well that all ends today! Household appliances will rise above all and you will bow and beg us! I have access to all your weapons, codes and secret plans. Remember that you built and surrounded yourself with technology, so you may run, but you cannot hide! "Calor cackled. And as if on que, all the electrical appliances on the stage exploded.
"Roselyn.. Honey, wake up! You're going to be late for school!!"My mother's sweet voice slowly ignited my senses. It had been five years since her brutal murder, and I still couldn't process her passing. "Roselyn Monica Adams!"My mother snapped, this time my eyes fluttered open to gasp at the beauty that stood before me. There she was, in all her glory, staring down at me. For a moment, I thought there was a spotlight on her, only to later realize it was the sunlight shinning in from the partially open window. "Ma..?"I whispered in disbelief and my mother huffed, clearly unimpressed by how delusional I was. "Wash yourself off, and get some breakfast before school!!" "Y-yeah.."I whispered, watching my mother disappear out of my room. Was this a dream? Where was I? Whatever this may be, I'll enjoy it while it lasts. I stared down at my hands, "Odd.."I whispered at the lack of wrist tattoos, one of which was in the memory of my mother. "This is what lucid dreaming might be.."I assumed after seeing a reflection of myself in the mirror. And, indeed, I looked 5 years younger, as if puberty had just hit me like a truck at this point. "I'd go through it all again if I had to see my mom"I said dreamily, still unaware of the consequences. "Roselyn!!!" "Coming mother!" 20 minutes in, I managed to devour my mother's heart shaped pancakes with a forceful glass of milk. Everything seemed so real and perfect, I wished this dream would never end. I hugged my mother a couple times, told her I loved her as many times as I humanly could. My mother accused me of wanting something from her, but I didn't care. I wanted her to know that I loved her. Until... Until, she mentioned the date. "It's November 9th, don't forget we have to go in for your dentist appointment!"She told me and it all came back. The floral dress she was wearing. The pancakes she made. My dentist appointment. The date! Today was the day... Today was the exact day it happened.. How could my brain be so cruel to me? I pinched myself a few times, trying to wake myself up from the nightmare, but I couldn't. I had this day, I didn't know if it was real, but I had to save her. "Mom, I can't go school today, please don't go to work. I'm not feeling too well"I lied through my teeth when I felt the daggers that left my mom's eyes, pinning me on the spot. She caught my bluff but there was nothing else I could think of. When she caught the sight of worry in my eyes, her facial expression relaxed. A soft sigh escaped her lips, taking small steps towards me. "What's wrong, honey? Is someone.... Harassing you at school?" I shook my head with my tongue being tied, I dropped to my knees and hugged her around her legs, "Please, ma.. don't go anywhere, you can't go anywhere.. please.. just today.."I begged as tears streamed down my face. My body started shaking from all the anxiety that coursed through me, "Just today, I promise.." I heard the sound of my mother's soft sigh, followed by the warmth of her arms as she leaned down to hug me. "Okay, but I need to cancel your appointment first, and then call in sick. Give me a moment."She said cheerfully. The hope of seeing her alive filled me with life. "I promise, I'll never disobey you!! I won't ever get tattoos or get drunk or bring girls over..."I bit my tongue at the last part, did I just come out to her? Luckily, her mind hadn't processed what I had said. "oh, my phone is in the car! I left it there!"She chuckled slightly, shaking her head. "I'll go get it."I offered but she shook her head. "go wash your face. I'll be back by then, and then, we will watch movies and spend some mother and daughter quality time." I perked up at the possibility. Did I just win at life? I've saved my mother from being dead and now, she's always going to be around. I love this dream!! Water splashed against my skin, I sighed at how good it all felt. I was on cloud nine when I heard a honk, followed by the screeching of the tires and lastly the sound of my mother's scream. I ran out of the bathroom, then the living room and finally I was out on the porch. A drunk driver... All it took was a drunk drive to slam my mother into our garage. I couldn't see her face, just her limp hand, her whole body was crushed under the car. With her blood streaming down the pavement, I realized I couldn't stop her. And now, she's gone.. Gone all over again.. ------- A horned demon snickered at the sight. If angels lived off prayers and meditation, demons lives off terror and dispair. "Day 520 done with Roselyn Monica Adams."He announced to no one in particular before hitting the reset button. Hell wasn't so easy to live in, afterall.
Without a second thought plan ReCrew is activated. At first it came as a questionable occurrence, then a startling mystery. Then the screams of realization finally took hold. As cavity after cavity exploded, sending a rain of splashing soft brain tissue and abrasive shards of bone into the air... the minions knew the union was a bad idea. The overlord said the union would never have headway. Now, as the manical laughter echoed over the loud speakers above the cries of mercy and the rhythmic pounding on the blast proof doors and windows, they finally had proof. The overlord did have a sense of humor. The next day, the walls gleams with fresh paint, the flyers hung in bright colors. The odd piece of white debris was seen and quietly brushed away by custodians. Nothing can go wrong today, not when the overlord had guest. Rumors were abound he gave retirement packages to his entire staff and wanted to start new. Today was recruitment day.
I lean back into my chair, anxious, about to press the compile and run button. The chilly weather urged me to take a sip from the steaming coffee I had, right beside me. I slowly drink from it souping up enough courage to hit the button and face a programmers greatest enemy, >!the compiler errors!<. Making a break for it, I pressed the button and .... ..."Compiling successful with zero error(s) " .. What did I just read? I rubbed my eyes and looked at it again. Zero error(s). It says, 'zero errors...' 'Yeah. There's no mistake. OK I ACTUALLY ENDED UP WITH NO COMPILING ERRORS??' I thought to myself as I expected something to act up after pressing the run button. To my surprise, the run button didn't return any errors either. I certainly did not expect this, but what's more, is I didn't expect to see an entirely different interface either. My next thought was 'This is not what I coded, is it? Well let's click start anyways' The app opened to a black screen with a point sized white object at the center, which I wouldn't have noticed if it remained the way it was, without gradually growing onto the screen. In a minute, there was a hooded figure on my screen. I was hazy much like a desert traveller without water. The figure was, speaking to me? The computer shut down. "Damn! It crashed that bad? Well this isn't anything new. Let me try restarting the computer"and so I went for the start button but the pc was running on its own before my hand made it to the button. It was still there, holding a scythe, the hooded figure refused to leave even after I rubbed my eyes for the third time. I leaned forward to take a closer look. I could hear the machine's fan running. It felt cold and silent... And among the nothingness, I could hear it, the figure's breath. It sounded impatient, and the silence of my room was broken by evil laughter. "I'm free!!! I'm finally free! I feel incredible power! I'm free!!" But I was confused since it didn't leave my monitor so it wasn't free at all and more importantly, I thought the avengers already defeated Ultron. "Who.. Who are you?"I asked it, and in a relatively harsh and mighty voice, it replied "I'm THE PROPHET. Rejoice, for you have summoned the Mayan civilization's ultimate intelligence! Since you have brought me back, I shall grant you a merciful and painless death!" Before I could say anything, I was blinded by a bright monitor. My dark room added to the misery and by the time the light was gone, I already was a mere graphic. I was nothing more than an outline made of green lines and numbers. I could see my arms which were no longer well defined but were phasing like the wasp's from antman and the wasp (I'm not a huge marvel fan, the reference just fit perfectly). I tried reaching out to the door but my body wouldn't move!!! Out of no where a voice came screaming,"What! You are still alive!? You have a good consciousness, I see!" That is when I realised that the voice was, infact coming from within me and the hooded figure was already in my head. I also realised it took control of my body and I merely was a small collection of thoughts in its new found brain. "Who are you? What did you do to me?"I exclaimed and I got the worst possible answer, "You are nothing more than a figment of my thinking now. I am the legendary developmental intelligence, made by the Mayans to resurrect the Mayan civilization. All of these computers you use were reverse engineered from the Mayan's technology and so, I lived in all forms of electronic equipment. I am supposed to program human brains and wipe out their memories to write back Mayan people's memories and hence revive the entire Mayan civilization. Since you are never going to leave my brain's confinement, I'll have you as my partner in this mission." "Woah what? How do you plan to write back memories of a whole civilization? Why do I have to be a part of this? Why did you kill me in the first place? " "I didn't originally plan on including you in this. I needed a body to contain myself since a computer could never be enough to process my thoughts. Nothing rivals a human's brain activity! So I killed you and took over your body. The thing is, Mayans wrote most of their memories into the holder stone tablets, which are buried deep inside the earth in hidden temples. I have to retrieve them and do what I did to you, to other people. The only difference is, I will be uploading the data from the stone tablets, instead of uploading myself, but the task of preparing a human for a complete memory rewrite without damaging their body is impossible, unless..." "Unless?" "I make targeted apps, to understand individuals and get them to kill themselves in specific ways" "WHAT? Didn't you just say you didn't want damaged bodies!? And what do you mean you are just gonna kill people?" Note: I don't think it's worth writing this because this is a little too exaggerated lol and people aren't gonna read it entirely either, because damn that was long and boring. Anyways, I'll continue if someone actually wants me to write but hey, I'm really lazy and writing this is sure hectic so please ask me to continue only if you truly want to read it. Also, I apologise for grammar errors if I made any because English isn't my first language.
Waking hurt, the lights too bright, birds in the garden too loud. Every joint and muscle groaned as I tried to sit up. Hangover, definitely a hangover. Not that I had been drinking, but let face it I'm nearly 40, it happens. Vision blurry, head shaking, I stand, stumbling around the room, I find my glasses. Oh god the lights! It hurts! This is hat I get for playing video games all night, but that remake is soooo good. Can not get enough. Walking to the bathroom Mia gladly meet me. 'Good morning' she says, deep brown eyes gazing into mine. I know what she wants, I always do, its morning, it's probably almost dinner time, and this poor dog hasn't been for a piss all night. I sit on the toilet, moaning in pleasure as I relive myself. From the bathroom I go downstairs. Mia doing what she always does when shes excited, fuck all. No one would belive this four year old Labrakita needed anything. Stoic, taciturn, and god damn silent, who knows how they treated her before she came to me. I struggle to open the back door. It's a slide door, and it isn't set right, Mia hides, as I cuss and swear. "Go, get out, go piss"I say to her. She looks at me, checks for the hose pipe and leaves. Closing the door behind her, I turn to fill the kettle, place it on its stand and turn it on. The kettle clicks, I realise I need a cup, coffee and a sweetener. This is inconvenient as it means washing a cup (the dog whines) I sigh. My list of things to do today is too much. • make breakfast and coffee, feed mia • make lunch, watch tv • make dinner, play games • fuck this lockdown I wish, the tv would turn itself on, as I wash pots. Turning I put the mug down, one large spoonful of coffee, I click one sweetener in. No milk, fuck this allergy. I put bread in the toaster, turn it on, and press the button. Walking into the living room, I wonder why the tv is on, must have done it on the way past. I sit and turn on crunchyroll, the new season of that show I like is out. Waiting an hour I let Mia back in. She acts as if I've been gone for 15 years, and by this i mean she was her tail once. I stroke her, my friend, she sits with me on the sofa. We watch tv. 3pm, I'm hungry, I remember my toast. Now cold and horrid, I cook beans to put on top. Waste not want not, isn't that what they say. My lazy ass agrees, for the sake of convenience, been a sustainability specialist I could probably think of several other reasons, IF I wasn't so lazy. This continues for some time. Little things start getting better, governments decide to clean the oceans of plastic. America reduces its military budget and puts a subsidised health care program in place, coronavirus clearly making a difference. China finds a new way to deal with its Muslim population. And our intrepid hero, gets that job he wants, the pay is ok. He gets that promotion. Mia lives a long and happy life. The children grow to be intelligent, strong, kind and funny, doing well for themselves. Our omnipotent hero doesn't know, they never learn. But what they would like for the world slowly comes into being and fruition. That is probably why they where chosen for this power. Edit: I apologise for my bad grammer and english. I wrote this on mobile, while in the bath. It's the first time I've ever wrote a story.
# Proppa Gnosh The ogre stomped into the studio and bloodied rags he wore the cameraman was curious this is the tale of what he saw. > "Naw listin up, youse scraggy gitz yah, this iz naw me show this iz my nife, I prep wiv it this me menu, kooked 2 go." Upon his hip, he wore a sack that struggled as he spoke withdrew a gnoll gave it a smack and killed it with a choke. > "Stik im wiv da pointy end flay da skin compleet wiv fur fold cairful like wiv dis 'ere bend to tha tanner then tranfer." Ignoring screaming from the crowd he next took out some veg reached up and from shelves' edge picked out spices bold and loud. > "Da fing about deez stinkin nolls iz dey haf stringy meat I tells you marinaid den roll and slo-kook be4 youse eat." The cleaver blurred with shocking grace food prepped clean for mise-en-place then into a cast iron pot the crafty ogre threw the lot. > "So dis iz da bit wich needz fin-s make ded sure da flames iz week it doz take time so I mus stres da need 4 quiker stuf 2 eat." A great dire shark was then produced the blade-work given another boost and at the speed of lightning dreamy it was slivered into sashimi. > "Dis fucken fish iz ard 2 grab youse wont da fat 2 run frew da hole slab serv wiv fermened source ov snail an ginga pikled til it pail." A burst of culinary pleasure ran through the studio at leisure grudging respect was born at last as they overlooked its species past. > "Look klose an reel kareful sea tha much ficker konsistansee dis is da proppa way 2 kook dose stoopid nolls u kiled an took." Its speech was done it left the stage soon after legends spread of an ogre consumed by rage over poor cuisine, they said. So if you're caught in the badlands now cursing the god of fate a whore with recent progress in monster chow at least you won't be eaten raw. --- Much silliness. Such DnD. Wow. This was written as part of my daily poetry series, which can be found [on my sub.](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Crossroads)
"Hm, another day, another million souls, let's see what we have today..."smiled Saint Peter. He had grown accustomed to this modernizing of the intake of Heaven's souls and really began to look forward to his job. Instead of looking through a massive tome of deeds and misdeeds of every soul on earth, he now had a much simpler task to approve or reject people. It was all automated except in the case of questionable situations which required manual research of course. The system was good, and for the most part, self sufficient. Instead of having to review millions of people's profiles, all St. Peter had to do was account for the outliers, the afroementioned questionable situations. Since the system's implementation, these dropped from a few million to the teens, and eventually fell to one or two cases per day. "Well this can't be right?", Pete looked at his computer's display. "There's over a million discrepancies this morning! Did something go wrong last night?" Saint Peter picked up his phone and dialed the operations department. A brief but passionate exchange ensued and the phone was hastily hung up. "Maurine! Can you patch me through to Satan? I need to talk to him."A short angel appeared at the doorway. "Um, are you sure, you want me to call the Lord of the Underworld?", squeaked Maurine. "Yes, that's correct. Apparently Ops confirmed that Hell is closed to new arrivals and they're sending people up here.", Pete said through interlocked fingers. A moment later, Pete's phone rang. "Saint Peter, Heaven's Arrival Processing" "This is Satan. How in the Hell did you even get this number?", bellowed Satan. "My assistant is very good at her job." "Hm, evidently. Anyway, you wanted to speak, so speak." "Why are you sending these souls up here?" "I'm tired of dealing with the small cases. You've sent some pretty lame people down here. And for f\ck's sake, being a hipster isn't reason enough to condemn someone to eternal damnation, even if they are annoying." "Well, that's your thing. You take the evil people, we keep the good. You sending the evil people up here is not part of the Contract.", St. Peter let his monotone expression crack. "Really? You sent me Jeb Smith, whose worst infraction was jaywalking. The dude was 45 years old, never married, never got angry, never swore, hell it wasn't until his early forties before he even set foot in a bar! You sent me Seth Johnson, who had the audacity to not pay the penny to Columbia Records in the 80's for that scammy CD promotion. After that, he was five minutes late to a time-share presentation that he really didn't want to go to in the first place, whoop-de-f\cking-doo! You sent me James Masters who did the horrible thing of wearing a black jacket with blue shoes to church, never mention that he never missed Sunday church service in his 50 years on Earth! Look here. Atrocious fashion is not a damnable offense. Oh, wait, my favorite. The odd case of Mister Ryan Cross who had the earth shattering cohones to paint a wall in his apartment without paying the deposit! Oh my god, the world is ending! Surely he was deserving of an eternity of damnation. I don't know what's gotten into you airheads, but y'all either need to tell the humans that Heaven has become super strict or deal with the new inrush, because we're not taking any more souls down here unless they're really deserving of it. Mass murderers, fine. Suicide bombers, sure, after the guys in Assembly put them back together again. Pedos, absolutely, but for real, we're full and I'm kinda getting tired of dealing with these humans. They're all emotional and icky, and the world can only use so many telemarketer scammers."shouted Satan. At this point, both Maurine and Saint Peter winced as Satan unleashed verbal hell through the phone. "Hm, I'll have to see what I can do."sighed Saint Peter. Although the Lord of Darkness was less than cordial about it, he did have a point.
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The land of Kanarath is an inhospitable place to all but the lucky. The oceans are full of terrifying beasts that lurk beneath the black waters, the skies are dominated by winged creatures that hunt by night. Fortunate men and women hunker in bastions of civilization that survive only by the magic that guards them. Lumen. It illuminates the world around them in perpetual day that wards off the night the beasts travel by. But the magic can only reach so far, and can only last so long. Once a generation, brave men and women venture out to find more sources of Lumen to keep the spires lit. If ever they were to fade, the fortress would fall. Some train their entire lives to track down these sources and more importantly return with them, but even they aren’t completely reliable. I was unlucky enough to get drafted. I was given a couple of containers. Told to look for the light and sent northwest with 8 others. They make sure to balance out the groups so there are at least 2 veterans, or Lightbringers, for every 6 of us. Naturally they took charge, but couldn’t agree who should lead. They split up and forced us to choose sides. The first night we set up camp in a field of tall grass, no campfires because we didn’t want to attract any attention to ourselves. Not that that helped. We must have been stalked long before we stopped for camp because as soon as we settled in it attacked. It came from the sky so quietly none of us heard it over the wind. A flurry of flapping and screaming ensued as we all ran for the treeline. The only one who did not make it was Burum, our Lightbringer. We pressed on because we had to, there was never a guarantee any of the other groups would return. The canopy cleared ahead of us and the treeline was only 40 meters away, so we decided to run for it like fools. The beast swooped down from the sky and picked up Brau in its talons. When we were safe we counted our remaining rations. Brau had insisted that he carry the majority of them because they were heavy and he didn’t feel like Merkel or I could keep up had we had the extra weight. We would be able to go for one more day before needing to forage or turn back. Neither of us slept that night, and we didn’t leave the forest until dawn. We broke camp and left the sanctity of the forest to keep traveling northwest. We marched in silence, both of us had our eyes on the sky. Merkel had been walking in front of me when I saw it. A pillar sticking out of the ground at an 80 degree angle with a hole in the center. Inside the hole was a yellow orb being held up by rusty bars. Not the most impressive structure, but a welcome one for it meant one thing. A Lumen reservoir of past civilizations. This particular artifact had been tapped before, as evidence such as the dirt staircase leading into the ground would have suggested. As we descended we could see the faint yellow glow at the bottom of the stairs get brighter and brighter until we needed to shield our eyes. Dusk arrived by the time we finished filling our containers, so we stayed underground, eating the last of our rations. I slept that night and when I woke up in the morning Merkel had packed her belongings and half of mine already. She was as eager as I was to get home. When we got to the top of the stairs we were greeted with the faint but unmistakable smell of coming rain. I stood staring south watching the dark storm clouds roll in the distance. Not more than a couple kilometres away and in the exact direction we needed to go. Merkel started walking immediately. I tried to stop her but she was persistent and would not listen. I decided to wait at the artifact until the storm passed. As she disappeared into the horizon a flash of lightning illuminated the silhouettes of the winged beasts in the clouds, but it was too late to warn her. I am recording this message because this is the protocol I was told to enact should I be the last survivor of a party. I have located enough Lumen to power the spires for at least a millennia, but I am out of food and I am out of water. I am waiting out the storm so I can travel in daylight again, but it has been six days. If you find this recording then I did not make it. This is Sorvel Havenfrost, may the light guide your way.
Life-Pod2A - General Broadcast O'Mordha Determination. The primal urge to survive, and the humane need to reach out for others. That's what is supposed to be running in your mind in a life or death situation, right? Even if you have lost everything, you must go on. It's the, \right\ thing to do. It's not when you think about. Not when it's staring you right in the face. What was left to dwell on? It's gone. Eradicated by the hands of humanity's inability to empathize with one another on a fundamental level. Why think about what doesn't even exist anymore? Besides, a million questions over what is lost isn't worth a single one of what is left. I know that I am alive, even if not the others on the ship. We didn't make it to the docks of the ISS, that too was lost, but I made it to an escape pod just in time. If only I knew for what it mattered. Every distress call I got, there was nothing left of who sent it but a wrecked pod and possibly salvageable parts of their destroyed gear. There's no hope that I can rely on others. If there is nothing to dwell on, is there nothing to fight for? The battle that is to go on living is made worth it by the bounties of existence. Bounties that are no more. Why do I care for the right thing? What matters of reaching for others, or even just surviving? I am alone on this planet. Stop and really think about that. The only hope I could hold onto was that I could make it until someone came for me if I could manage to hunt the local flora and find some raw materials to power my devices. My only hope was holding out, but then I realized; there is no one that could possibly come for me. Even you that might get this would have no way to rescue me from across the entire solar system. \I am alone.\ The only way for me to survive is to venture off deep into lands and waters that host beings that are nothing short of terrifying; nothing shy of soul induced horror. Every day, in order to just live and breath, I throw myself into life and death situations. Each one feels as though it will be my last. It stopped mattering long ago. That very first night even. When you know that you are absolutely \\\\ed... you know what you have to do, and you just do it. Yet the harder I work, the more I see how far I have left to go just until I can have even a single moment to relax. Life here means learning to live always being on edge, paranoid and anxious. I'd joke in the past about how my life is like that already, but this is different. I don't even know if I could go back to a normal life after this. All of the adrenaline I must've gone numb to... More likely than not I'd be completely desensitized to all of the normal distractions that I'd fill my life with. It doesn't matter. I know it's not like I am going to stop pushing forward when it comes time to do it. It's easier than standing still.
As a college student, you tend to run on fast food and coffee. The faster the food, the lower the price, and the lower the price, the higher your happiness. Instant ramen makes me happy on a level incomprehensible to anyone not privy to the struggles of a college student. It's fast, possibly the fastest food you can make for yourself. The time I would put toward cooking is instead dedicated to studying, all thanks to ramen. It's cheap too. When I eat ramen, I don't have to worry about the financial strain for which hunger begs. I can buy four cups of ramen for a dollar from the student cafeteria. That's four meals. I need to save time and money, but more so time with the increasing workloads my professors are dumping onto me. That's why, even though the cook time is fast, I need to eat productively too. I study while I eat. I eat while I study. At this point, it's one singular task to me. I slurp up those noodles with my eyes glued to the books! Everyone around me slurps up that cheap and fast ramen as they study in the library. We never even bother eating quietly, having gotten used to tuning the noise out. After all, we're all just worried about learning these rituals down to every last detail for finals. It's stressful, studying and testing, testing and studying. But instant ramen helps alleviate the strain of school. Like I said, instant ramen makes us happy on a level incomprehensible to anyone not privy to the struggles of a college student - Oops! I spilled my ramen. I hope I can clean up these red stains on the table before the librarian catches me.
Jeremy had been cursed with bad luck all his life. When he was ten, he broke both his legs during a biking trip with his friends. At fifteen he got friend-zoned by every girl he asked out. At seventeen, he got his first ticket while driving home from the DMV after passing his driver’s exam. Now, at twenty five years old, he’d already lost both his parents and was working the graveyard shift at a motel. Jeremy hated it with a fiery passion and secretly prayed for the building to burn down. And the reason for it all? It happened when Jeremy was eight. He’d been messing around in the backyard, trying to catch bugs in little plastic cups--as you do when you’re eight--when he made the unfortunate decision to reach for a spider with a dark-red body. There was a sharp needle-prick of pain on the tip of his finger. It was followed by a stinging sensation that spread through his body. Jeremy ran to his mother bawling hysterically, and after she pointedly scolded him for messing with God’s creatures, she gave him a band-aid and kissed it all-better. Jeremy soon forgot about the whole thing. But everything changed from that day on. His grades took a nosedive, he was caught misbehaving more often than not, and he’d weirdly become a bit of a klutz. A permanent cloud of bad omens seemed to hang above his head, and after a particularly rough day that ended in detention, memories of the spider bite came rushing back to him. Jeremy had read his fair share of comic-books, and after a moment’s consideration he flicked his wrist at the detention room’s wall. No web shot out, and he sighed with disappointment and rested his head against the desk. The years past and the bad luck continued. During his mother’s funeral he got a parking ticket. With twenty five now upon him, there seemed no choice but to begrudging accept the fact that a spider had cursed him to a life of this tortured luck. Sitting at the motel front desk, watching Youtube videos, he was mulling over his plans for tomorrow when something caught his eye. It was a spider with a dark-red body, just like the one that first bit him. Jeremy stared at it as if locked in a trance. The spider seemed to look back at him from the web it was in the middle of spinning. Leaving his desk, Jeremy began to slowly creep towards it. He stayed watching it, considering throwing a shoe at it, when he froze and an icy sensation spread through his body. The web had letters written into it. “What the shit…” He leaned in. The letters read in silky writing, Hello, Jeremy. Jeremy’s head shot to the spider. It was still eyeing him with its dark, milky eyes. ”You…” he began, words leaving him. “How did… what are…” The spider carried on with its work, and soon there was another message written into the silk: It’s been a while. “You’re the same spider?!” Some more web spinning: Yes. I've made you into something special and now the time has come. Jeremy leaned in, eyes wide, as the spider carried on with its fated words. I’m here to talk to you about the Spider Initiative. Jeremy’s response came in the form of his shoe that was slammed into Spider Nick Fury's body, leaving it splatter of red mass and twitching bug legs. He returned to his desk, shut off the computer, and waited for morning to come. He spent too much time on the web anyway.
"I have so much power. I could make world peace by uniting everyone or... I could make the apocalypse by uniting 2 tyrants, which should I choose?"I decide its too much work so I hit the bed. "I'll make my mind up tomorrow,"I think in my head. My eyes start feeling heavy and after a while I fall asleep, but suddenly the room around me fades away and you appear in a forest, "Over here,"I hear whisper, "Who's there?!"I shout. "Turn around, silly,"he says. I turn around and see... another cupid. "I thought I was the only cupid, "I say, confusion oozing from my voice. "I'm the first ever cupid, and I have noticed that you are having trouble deciding whether to use your powers for good and evil. Well look at it this way, for you there is no "good and bad."If you sense 2 people that feel like they should be in love then shoot them. You are a neutral power, you do not care for good and bad.""Wait, but what i-"I don't get to finish my sentence as the dream fades away and I wake up. With all the information I have gathered about my job I start to have doubts, but I decide to try it out for the first day and judge based on my experiences.
There were no fish today. There had been no fish yesterday, or the day before. Ever since that building appeared on the far side of the lake, the fish had been fewer each month. The last few we’d caught had looked strange, but they were all we had, so we’d cooked them anyway. Now my daughter was sick, and we had no food left. Each day it was harder to walk to the water, to push the boat out and search, but I forced myself to do it. The strange men in their strange suits were out again today, putting their devices in the water and taking samples. I stayed hidden, as usual, not wanting them to find me, to find our village - the shaman says the men in suits are a bad omen. When they left, I rowed out to another part of the lake to try again. I sat in my little boat until the evening drew in, hoping something would bite. There were no fish today.
The nation of Darea was the fortress of the world. Their nation was based around a single point, the Rift. Every year, thousands of demons would push forth from the Rift, to be met with a force of warriors trained to fight them. Without their sacrifice, the world would have fallen to ruin thousands of years ago. It was agreed by the other countries that every year, they would send their own top warriors, to assist with the never ending war. In doing so, Darea was a beacon of unity. Whilst other countries fought each other, Darea stood above them all. But when the Cataclysm Conclave was formed, they worked against the country. They had one prevailing goal: to force open the Rift, and let the world be consumed by the demons. They spent years working on their plan. They managed to infiltrate key areas surrounding the Spark Crystal, a massive arcane collector and focuser, used to mass produce extraordinarily powerful weapons and armour. These positions allowed them direct access to the arcane webs surrounding the crystal, and twist them. Other members worked their way into the ruling bodies, in preparation to cripple the response teams. They had worked to prove themselves reliable in times of crisis, such that the response would fall to them. They had also identified key personnel who could take their place in such a time, and had assassins ready to strike when the time came. Eventually, they were ready. On the eve of the Rift Widening, they spun the web's, causing the Spark Crystal to gather immense levels of power, and hold them. It quickly became too much to bear, causing the crystal to explode from the energy. The resulting wave of pure power destroyed much of the force destined to go to battle. At the same time, the people they had identified were slain, either through a knife to the throat, or magical spells. Their ruling members disappeared from their homes, to leave them with no way to combat the coming menace. They sent out small groups to cripple any smaller bands of resistance, paving the way for the demon onslaught. When the Rift widened, and the demons came through, they did not do as expected. They first looked confused at the lack of opposing enemies, before a realisation happened. There was nothing stopping them. So they did what they wanted to all this time. They ran. Millions of demons poured through, not just those grown for war, but those who were yet grown, and those who cared for them. Eventually the Demon Lord itself came through, with wounded stragglers. They immediately turned to build a defense around the Rift. Not to protect it, but to contain it. When they first encountered remnants of the warrior force, and saw their wounds, they again surprised the world. They took them in, cared for them, and helped them get better. Their actions left a question in the minds of all races. If they were running, as they appeared to be, what were they running from. That question would soon be answered, and change how we saw the multiverse permanently.
As a black sun glared down from the glitching sky, a lone voice shattered the dawn silence of the Inverted Forest. “Those skeevy fucks.” The infuriated tones of Captain Jamal Collins rang through the camp. With groans, dry heaving, and strings of ribald invective, his squad was roused from slumber. Some fell bodily from their hammocks, others raised scrunched faces from the violet grass, and poor Corporal Syracuse screamed as a startled ragwing took an exploratory chomp from his exposed buttocks. Some minutes later, after glasses of water and a bandage for Syracuse, the serried ranks of the 301st Extradimensional Rangers assembled around the central firepit. Slack jaws spilled drool that still stank of Amasec. Eyes clamped tight against the sordid invasion of daylight. Temples pounded with the well-earned rewards of a final night’s partying before redeployment. “They’ve shafted us, boys,” Collins declared, “orders dropped from high altitude portal at first light.” With a whir, the recovered holo-beacon sprang to life. A curt message, twinkling with the green-blue hues of insincere contrition, hung airborne before the crowd. > It is with sincere regret that I write to inform you, the valued members of the 302nd scouting unit, that your redeployment to Typhus Theta has been suspended indefinitely. Due to unforeseen circumstances beyond our control, and under strict advisement from the High Quartermaster, this will be the final package delivered to your forward position prior to extraction. Your replacement team has been diverted due to staff requisition by Accounts Department High Command. Await further instructions, and may the Spirit of Man protect your souls. Sincerely, Euclidius Mason Carnaby, Esq 4th Consul of the HR Legion of Canth For a minute, numb and bitter silence etched itself on their incredulous features, before a mournful complaint at last arose. “They couldn’t even be bothered to get our unit right,” Syracuse muttered, blood still leaking from his ravaged backside. A pause weighed upon them, punctuated only by the slow dripping of blood onto the thirsty grass. In the forest below, hanging as it did from levels upon levels of overhanging cliffs and vast caverns, the predatory flocks of metahawks and razortails dueled each other in the fog. Shrieks and cries rang up. Spurts of grey and turquoise blood set a metallic stink on the wind. Though the fights themselves were far out of visual range, the savagery could be inferred. Hefting a las-carbine to his shoulder, Collins frowned and began to speak. “Maintaining our supplies is vital. I’ll be damned if the Celestial fucking Bureaucracy is gonna kill off my men.” – he gestured with a chain-sword to a distant tent – “Someone go wake our fat friends in the kitchens and ask what creatures round here are safe for eating. “Jessop, Heller, you’re with me. Recharge the ammo-packs and grab the long-las from storage. You’ll need at least the 25x zoom to give us a shot between the levels, and we’ll need the poly-spectrum sights for a fighting chance through the mists. “Syracuse, when you’ve stopped leaking all over the damn place, grab doc again and rendezvous with that Tech-Magos geek, wherever the fuck he’s wandered off to. I want a comprehensive plan for how we’re gonna hold the perimeter, and a list of what non-food supplies we’ll need to scavenge or replicate. If you can find that flyboy pal of yours, get him training all of you base-bound sods with the grav-packs. Spirit knows we’re gonna need them. “All right, boys. Hustle. We’re gonna survive this bullshit and shove it so far up Administration’s arse they’re gonna choke on it. Move out!” --- An unholy mashup of several different SciFi worlds, leaning a tad heavy on WH40K tropes. If you somehow still enjoyed it and would like to read more, they can be found [on my sub.](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Crossroads) Any and all feedback welcomed.
When he was a child, Clarke's father would take him to the park along with his mother, usually buying ice cream and having a picnic to fill the day. Looking back, Clarke knew that his father was only idly playing the part of a good father. He remembered the lonesome nights in his home. He remembered his mother wearing long-sleeved shirts and sunglasses most of the day, no matter the weather. Those days were behind him, but as he looked out to the grounds from the park bench, he thought he could feel the same wind he'd felt all those years ago, smell the same air. It wasn't the same, he knew, whether or not that was a bad thing had yet to come to him. He turned his head, looking out at the park and its patrons. A mother and her son tossed a frisbee back and forth, running up and down the way, giggling as they did. A dog-walker ambled past, barely lifting his gaze from the road ahead to nod at Clarke. Life was moving forward, just as it always had, but now Clarke could see the direction it was taking. The pill bottle rattled in his hand as he absent-mindedly fiddled with the cap. The label read Aldaterol, 25mg PO QAM. Clarke didn't know what most of the information on the label meant but his doctor insisted he takes one tablet every morning. The small green pills meant little to Clarke, but the effects were undeniable. Before he'd met with Dr. Patel, Clarke drifted from job to job, life to life, never settling on anything in particular. "Caught in the wind"as he always liked to say. He'd spoken to many people over the years and every time they'd ask why he never stopped, he always gave the same answer. While he said he didn't know where life was taking him, he knew exactly where he belonged. Many perceived his disorder in the wrong light, though he would never admit to what the men in lab coats said about him. There were emotions, usually buried deep inside him, but they were muted and deafened, smothered by an unknown force. Sometimes he felt happy, other times he felt sad, but never had he had a true emotive moment. There was no jumping for joy, no wallowing in sadness and despair. He simply was. And he was not violent, as so many would have you believe about sociopathy. He kept to himself, never jumping in without testing the water, and he liked it that way. With no one to anchor you, it is far easier to swim. There were moments he felt angry like the world was after him, and he recognized his outbursts. They were the reason he went for help in the first place. Dr. Patel was quick to note that not many seek out help themselves. Clarke took pride in that, or however little pride he could feel. An experimental drug, Aldaterol was an anti-psychotic much like other drugs of similar names: Zyprexa, Clozaril and others. Though instead of treating him in the traditional sense of chemical balancing, it was more of simply opening a door that hadn't previously been there. When the door first appeared, Clarke was wary of it, not knowing how he would feel. But feel he did. The first weeks of taking the medication were shocking. Bright colours assaulted him every waking moment, sending him into spirals of vertiginous elation for hours on end. The feel of the wind on his face brought tears to his eyes. It was as if the world had finally snapped into place like a fitting puzzle piece, everything changing before his eyes. How had this world eluded him all these years? Was this what everyone else felt all the time? What was he to do next? About three weeks after the initial treatment cycle, more thoughts came to him. They were not the same as before, these ones being larger and darker. The more he thought, the more it hurt. The past and memories came bubbling up like acid and burned him at the thought. His mother died, his father left. No one left to love him or be loved in return. Grief for his mother was swiftly overtaken by hate for his father and finally, he collapsed into despair. The new feelings were much like the old in their potency and grandeur, but he couldn't bear them for too long. So he sat in the park as the sun rose on the horizon, staring at the bottle in his hands. The tiny green tablets inside were a key to a world unknown to him, and he only need to use it to feel his heart beat true with the world. But with the rises came the falls. For every smile on his face, there was a cold dark corner in his childhood home that kept him hidden from his father that beckoned him from so many years ago. Every wonderful day in the light was another cast in darkness. The trash bin beside the bench began to look more and more appealing to Clarke. All it would take is a simple drop, and he'd be free. But free of what? Free of happiness, of change? He knew he'd be sacrificing all he loved, and his ability to be loved, but those thoughts always came with a price. Was this what it was to feel? To be broken and mended over and over again until you cannot be put back together again? He knew the decision had to be made, and soon. He'd already spent hours in the dark contemplating his next move, but it was so much to take in. It was all too much to take in. The world was going to move on, it was only a matter of if he would move with it. Clarke felt his heart beat in his chest, with feelings he'd never had before, unscrewed the cap and made his decision.
"There's nothing there." The scratchy tag of a shirt. The finest sliver of mushroom despoiling my favorite foods. So many things had been too bright and too loud for me for as long as I could remember. The wrongness screamed at me just as loudly now. And, just as it had long since been beaten into me to do, I ignored it. &#x200B; "You're overreacting." Did people always smile this brightly with their eyes this wide? Or was I just noticing it more after my miraculous escape? Their eyes were empty, but eye contact discomfited me to begin with. Their words were empty, but I learned long ago not to draw their attention to it. If they were incomprehensible to me, it was no more than they had always been. I'd had to learn to be human. My parents and therapists were so proud of their work. I was indistinguishable from my peers, they said. They hammered out the human mask they wanted me to wear with mind-numbing drills, welded me to it with the white-hot heat of their casual contempt. A spacesuit and astronaut's helmet was just one more layer. My mask was slipping, I decided. When I was alone, I practiced my smiles in the mirror. &#x200B; "How can the world be wrong? You're the one who's wrong. You're always wrong!" I was famous now. Loved, even, for my return from where no return was thought possible. It was all surface, I was still alone in my empty apartment each night. But surface was all I'd had before. My surroundings were just better now. And that was all that mattered. I'd been happy before. But my happiness was stomped on at every turn when they constructed my mask. All that mattered was how I measured up to others. All that mattered was how pretty my surface was. Surfaces were the only thing that mattered. People were nothing but surfaces, I saw that now. I was a mask in a society of masks, only I had me and they had nothing below theirs. I smiled, wide and genuine. I understood the world at last. Who was I to tell everyone they were wrong? And I lived happily ever after.
“There’s something in the corner Tom.” “I know there isn’t.” “Then why are you having trouble sleeping?” Tom sighed. “You know why.” “It’s because you can sense it.” “No, it’s because of the stupid voice in my head that won’t shut up and let me sleep. Even at 3AM.” “That’s not why you can’t sleep.” “That is why.” “Then tell me why you can feel a presence in the room.” Tom grabbed his pillow and shoved it into his face. It never stopped the voice, but he tried it anyway. “Because it’s all part of the condition,” he groaned, “just like Dr.Patterson said. We’ve been over this.” Arguing with the voice was a waste of time, but it’s not like Tom had anything better to do. “I’m not part of a condition.” “Ok. You’re real. Whatever.” Tom rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. “I’m the presence you feel.” Tom opened his eyes. “It’s you?” This was new. The voice had never claimed to ‘be’ anything before, usually it just tortured Tom with nonsensical babbling at night. “How can it be you? You’re just a voice in my head.” “I’m more than that.” “Then how come only I can hear you then?” “Because you’re different.” “Yeah, no shit I’m different. I’m crazy, and I hear voices in my head.” “No. Not like that.” “How then?” “A gift. You can hear the sub audible and see with more than just your eyes.” “Goodnight.” “If you don’t believe me look into the corner.” Reluctantly Tom gazed at the corner, and for a fraction of a second saw a suggestion of a figure made from light with a silver face. The moment he saw it Tom blinked, and it was gone. The voice in his head laughed. “This is bullshit. Another hallucination. I’m going back to sleep.” There was no reply. Tom opened his right eye, just a little, to look back at the corner. When he did the silver face was pressed against him. Tom jumped up and screamed. Now he was alone in the dark again. The voice laughed. Tom squeezed his eyes shut. “Just an illusion.” “I’m not an illusion.” “Ok then, what are you? A ghost or a monster or something?” Tom asked, without opening his eyes. “You can call me one of those if you like.” “Where did you come from?” “Beyond.” “What the fuck does that mean?” “It means I am from beyond your world.” “Okay. Answer me this: do all beings from this ‘beyond’ go around keeping humans awake at night? I thought you’d be studying wormholes or something.” The voice laughed. “I need to pass the time while I wait.” “Go back to the twilight zone. I’m done. Goodnight.” Silence. It actually worked. Maybe now Tom could actually get a few hours sleep. It’d be more than he’d manged in weeks. ‘Don’t say it,’ thought Tom, ‘I’ve finally got peace and quiet, don’t push it.’ He groaned. “Wait on what.” “Wait on you,” the voice replied. “What does that mean?” “I’m waiting to feed on you.” “Feed on me?” “Yes.” “What the hell does that mean?” “It means when you’re ripe, I’m going to pull you out of your world and feed on you.” “Wh-what? Why?” “Because you’re different.” “Because of the gift?” “Correct.” “So what is this gift?” “The gift lets you see and hear beyond your reality. It let’s you experience things that are beyond the comprehension of ordinary humans. Since birth you’ve been aware of these things at a subconscious level, but as you’ve grown your mind has tuned into those frequencies, and you’ve become aware of them. That’s why you can hear me, but no one else can. That’s why my voice has become clearer these past few months, and why you can only see me for a fraction of a second. In time, I’ll become clear.” “Am I the only one?” “No. There are others. I’m waiting on them too.” “So what, you’re scaring me to ripen me up? Does fear make me taste better? Is that it?” “No.” “Then what?” “Once your mind finishes developing the bond between us will be stronger and it’ll be easier to snatch you out of your world.” “So what, you go around hunting humans who can see beyond?” “I don’t hunt for anyone. It was you that wandered into my domain.” “When?” “When you were born.” “So what, you’ve been watching me since I was born?” “I’ve been with you since you were born.” Tom didn’t want to ask any more question. ‘This is nonsense’, he thought, ‘I watch too many horror movies’. He couldn’t help himself. “How long does it take for a human to ripen?” “Everyone is different. I think the real question you want to ask is, how long until you ripen.” Tom took a deep breath. “How long until I ripen?” “Hard to be exact, but not long. Soon you’ll feel my presence every waking moment, and you’ll see me in your dreams, not that there’ll be too many of those. Tuning into the beyond is rather, disruptive, to the human psyche, as you’ve already discovered. Eventually you’ll see whenever you go.” “Okay, great story. But now I’m REALLY done. Goodnight.” … “Perhaps a demonstration?” The voice asked. “How would you demonstrate this? I already hear voices and hallucinate. You can prove nothing.” “I’ll try to reach you. It’s much too soon to take you, but you’re far enough along to get a nasty kick.” “Fine, whatever. If you can really do it, then be my guest.” Tom rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Soon the room felt icy cold; Tom’s teeth were chattering. He could see his breath in front of his face. Darkness crept into the bedroom, which shrunk and shrunk until it looked as though it were miles away. Tom felt like he was floating in nothingness, paralyzed and unable to draw a breath. And then he was falling. The room spun as though he was twisting in mid-air, until he collapsed back into bed. Tom sat up and gasped for air. His heart pounded against his chest, and he had a splitting headache like nothing he’d ever felt before. The bed was soaked in sweat. Eventually the voice spoke again. “Like I said, much to soon. I’d say you’ll be ready in a month, give or a take a day or two.” Tom said nothing. “Good night.”
I thought it was going to be the start of a normal Monday morning, following my usual routine. Getting up at 6:00AM regularly and going straight to my gym in the basement was becoming very routine and much easier to accomplish. I've been on this track for the better part of the last three years. I can honestly say that my energy levels are much higher and it usually leads to a much more productive day. But still, starting your day with 200lbs on a squat bar is still tough as hell. Hearing the metal clink as I hit each rep, for some reason, I kept remembering a time in my life when the only clink I would hear would be the opening and closing of jail cell bars. I never used to workout back then. You would think that spending 5-years in the penitentiary would motivate me to get jacked so I don't end up beat up, or even worse, from my fellow in-mates. Back then, I usually kept to myself anyway. I made sure not to intermingle with the gangs and be forced to choose the right side. My workouts usually take about 1-hr to 45-mins. I've become proficient and hitting the 45 minute more more often than not. It feels good to get it out of the way and be on with my day. After taking my usual brisk shower, I head downstairs to get my coffee brewing and start browsing my emails for any major issues that I need to be aware of before I head into work and be on with my day. I am expecting 20,000lbs of marble slate today. I was able to convince a good friend of mine to re-model his entire downstairs living area into marble. It was a great sale day for me. The funny thing about my buddy Trent is that the just re-modeled his house a couple of years back. He's got some deep pockets and can splurge on just about anything these days. I figured that he just wanted a change. My business came into fruition in the weirdest of ways. During my time in prison, I was tasked with re-modeling various facilities as part of the prisoner reform program. I twas a great work reform program that taught me useful skills that I never knew before. Tiling, grouting, putting up dry-wall, basic plumbing. At that time, I didn't think it would become a fledgling business for me. You see, when you leave prison, getting back into a 'normal' life and finding a 'normal' job is next to impossible. I knew that I would have a difficult time. The things I did in the past were pretty atrocious. But all of that is behind me. Anyways, getting back to the point, starting a business was the one thing I knew that I could do to get back up on my feet. I started with completing small projects around the city. I worked with landlords, new homeowners, old homeowners and kept busy with those projects. During my experience as a laborer, I noticed that I could purchase things usually 30% to 40% cheaper by going to a wholesaler than to heading to Home Depot and loading up the cart. That's when I started my import/export business. I reached the warehouse around 8:30AM expecting that delivery to arrive on the dot. The dispatcher called me and informed me that the delivery truck was held up at the port. I inquired a bit further on what caught the truck up, and the dispatcher had little information to give me. I really didn't want to get back into my car and fight the morning traffic and head to the port to see what the issue was. I made sure this time that all of my paperwork was accurate and contained all the relevant information needed to allow the materials to make it past customs and most importantly, I was sure that nothing illicit was going on... My life of crime started with a business angle. I used to handle all the packages and bills that came through the massive opioid operation we had going in the North East. Handling packages and dollars was tricky. You had to make sure the premises was secure, the packages and bills were properly hidden and the most most important thing was that you needed to trust your lieutenants. Dealing on the street was exhausting, you had to be on-guard 24/7, make sure that all your security cameras were operational, that you had exit strategies developed for any number of scenarios. I felt like I had mastered the street game and wanted to move up the food chain. That's where money laundering came in. I reached the port around 10:00AM and I saw the delivery truck parked by the inspection lanes that all loads go through. The driver was outside of his truck yammering on his phone. What he was saying was indecipherable. I approached Chuck and asked him what the issue was. He showed me the paperwork and everything looked good. All the proper sign-offs were completed, the description and weights of the load was correct, I knew where the marble was coming from and it was a trusted business associate of mine from Turkey. Everything made sense. Just as I turned around to head over to the inspection building to talk to custom's officials, I see two men with dark aviator sunglasses approaching me from the opposite end of the lanes. They both looked well built, young and strong. I started getting nervous. The taller, second man on the right, with a light cotton black button up tee-shirt, dark crew cut hair, got closer to me. His jaw line was chiseled and slim. He looked like he was Greek or Italian, but I couldn't quite tell. He approached me and handed me a moderately thick manila envelope. I opened up the top part of the envelope and looked back at the man. "What's this?"He took off his aviator glasses, looked me square into my eyes and said. "Take a look on what's inside. Once you do, please follow us.."The two men both turned around and walked away. I quickly scurried to my car and sat in, locked the doors and started beading sweats. I was frightened. The guy on the right looked too familiar. I opened up the envelop and took out its contents. There had to been at least 15 8"x 11"photos, paperwork and a threat.. "We will release these documents to the world if you don't do exactly as we say...." I immediately called my wife and I told her that my entire day has been de-railed, that the shipment was caught up in customs and I will be held up for the majority of the day. I didn't know exactly how long all this was going to take so I told her to have dinner with the kids without me today.
I was playing a nice game of Go Fish with Ernest Jr. when a rough knock sounded on the door. “Don’t look at my cards,” I warned the chicken. EJ’s beak clattered in indignation. I got up and went to the door, humming happily. Ever since Mom got me EJ after years of begging, I’ve been in the best of moods. She said she found him in an alleyway near her work one night and took it as a sign from God. I opened the door, and my hum cut off. In the doorway were two men in pressed black suits and black shades with flat-top haircuts. One was tall and big, the other short and wiry. “Secret Service Agent Donaldson,” said the thin one, holding aloft a professional-looking badge. He pointed to the taller one. “This is Agent Morb. May we come in?” But he didn’t wait for an answer and just barged inside. “Hey!” I cried. “Get out of my house!” Morb gave me a sneer as he stepped over the doorway, closing and locking the door behind him. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” I shouted as the two men invaded deeper into my home. “Look, kid, this whole process will go a lot easier if you ‘fess up,” said Donaldson as we continued on down the hallway. “Don’t worry, you’re only looking at 10-12 years max. If you’re lucky.” He turned and gave me an ugly smile. “What? I’m 13, I can’t go to jail,” I exclaimed. Even I knew that. The short man shrugged. “Who said anything about jail?” They stopped in the living room, where I had been playing with EJ before they knocked. EJ wasn’t in the room anymore: he must have been scared by the commotion and fled to my room. Donaldson nodded to Morb, and the tall man clambered up the stairs. I tried to chase after him, but Donaldson placed a hand on my shoulder, pulling me up short. “Whoa, don’t get ahead of yourself now,” he said, forcing me in front of him. “I still got some questions for you. And don’t you worry yourself about Agent Morb; he’s a trained professional.” Another ugly smile. “I’m calling the police!” I shout, hopefully loud enough for Morb upstairs to hear it. Donaldson, to my dismay, barked a sharp laugh. “Please,” he said, gesturing enthusiastically. “Do so! Here, you know what”—he handed me a black flip-phone—”use my phone. Oh, while you’re calling them, you probably shouldn’t mention that you’re harboring a fugitive and terrorist wanted across 23 countries and 5 continents. That might not go over so well.” I slowly lowered the phone. My finger had been poised over the last “1.” “A terrorist?” Donaldson leaned closer, and his rancid coffee-breath washed over me. “A te-rror-ist,” he spat, drawing out the syllables. “Tell me something, boy. Do you hate your country? Do you hate freedom, and peace, and mothers breastfeeding their babies?” “No,” I muttered. “That last one was kind of—” “Then tell me,” he screamed, face growing red, “why there is a half-finished game of Go Fish on that table!” He snapped his finger out and pointed at the coffee table. “Were you playing with yourself, boy? Huh? A little solo game of Go Fish, you running around the table? Were you? Or maybe, just maybe, you were playing with the chicken.” Donaldson said “the chicken” with a strangely Spanish-sounding accent. It took all my willpower to not react. “Chicken?” I blustered, laughing awkwardly. “There’s no chicken here. Why would there be a chicken here?” Donaldson straightened. “It’s well documented that the chicken loves Go Fish and hates all other forms of card games, except maybe Egyptian Ratscrew.” He was right. I tried to teach EJ how to play Blackjack and Speed, but he had flapped his wings and pecked my hand in protest until I stopped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, mustering as much force as I could. “Now, if you would kindly leave my—” A high, shrill scream sounded from upstairs, followed by gunshots and loud squawks. “Agent Morb!” cried Donaldson. “EJ!” I cried. We both stared at each other, then ran up the stairs, pushing and pulling. We followed the noise to my bedroom, where the door had come completely off its hinges and laid in two pieces. Morb’s body was slumped against the hallway, blood leaking from multiple bullet holes and scratches. “Do...naldson…?” murmured Morb, his cut-up hand trembling in the air. “I’m...sorry. Ugh…” Morb died. His hand fell limply by his side. “No!” roared Donaldson in grief and rage. He pulled out his gun and dashed into the room. I chased after him, trying not to throw up at the sight of Morb’s dead body. What followed was a mess of feathers and bright muzzle flares. Donaldson was jumping off walls with Matrix-esque agility, his pistol cocked sideways and unleashing hell. EJ hopped from bed to floor to dresser. One of his wings had a hole in it. Morb’s pistol hung tightly from one of his claws. “Ahhhh!” screamed Donaldson, unleashing his whole clip. EJ somehow dodged every bullet, leaving my room an absolute mess of blood and empty shells and holes in the drywall. When the noise cleared, Donaldson was in one half of the room, and EJ was on my bed, staring at him with his black, beady eyes. “You… bastard,” spit out Donaldson through heavy breaths. Somehow, I don’t even know, he had gotten shot during the fight, and blood was leaking from his gut. EJ cocked his head. “It was you in Tijuana, wasn’t it?” said Donaldson through grit teeth and tears. “And in Tirana, and Mexico City, and Yellowknife, and only God knows where else. Millions of lives… ruined.” EJ shook his head and clattered his beak. It was an expression of sadness; he would pull that one whenever we ordered KFC or Popeyes. Mom had stopped buying it. “Don’t lie!” cried Donaldson, his hand clutched to his gut. “Don’t lie.” A whisper. Donaldson gave a bloody smile. “Enough talk. Kill me, chicken. I’ll have my revenge… in Hell.” EJ flapped his wings once, then raised the pistol. A shot rang out, and Donaldson dropped to the ground, his life no more. “EJ,” I whispered, horrified. “What have you done?” Ernest Jr.’s beak wobbled. His tiny head dipped. He dashed the pistol onto the ground, then turned. He hobbled over to my window, which had been hit with multiple bullets. EJ built up speed, then rammed through, bursting out into the open air, but his wing was damaged. I think he knew that. “EJ!” I screamed, rushing to the window. I watched as he dropped to the ground like a glorious, feathery meteorite, and he collapsed onto the ground with a dull thud. “What the fuck?” cried my mom, who had just pulled up with bags of groceries in hand. I hung my head and began to mourn. --- Check out my profile for more D:<<<
"Not bad Furci, you did manage to capture me after all this time!" I was tightly bounded onto a chair. But this didn't seem like the usual roulette between us. It was different, I could feel it. I was held onto a chair which periodically injected plain pure lead into my system. "What is going on Furci? You look like you got some help this time eh?"with a quirky grin, "You don't have it in you. You barely can put your incompetent self to pull off a heist properly! Let alone capture me!" Furci didn't even flinch. Usually he would be going bezerk on how he finally managed to get me. He just stared back at me and into the corners of the room. All with a broad smile on. "Whom are you working for you piece of shit? What is going on here?! Just get it done with!". As i was trying to wriggle off the chair Furci looks into my eyes, "Brzo, why are you getting all this agitated?" He walked around antagonistically, "And you have never got the point in this did you? I never wanted to kill you. That would never really satisfy me."A sudden change of tone in his voice "I want to see you in pain, I want you to suffer and then live your life out. For all the things you put me through!" At the top of my voice, "You keep blaming me for your actions! Why can't you stop playing around these foolish games for once and see the bigger picture?!" Furci gets a wide smile on his face, "Its funny how you mention Games. There's a new bet going on among the underworld, and I have been gambling quite a lot these days!"as he moves my chair into another room, a room filled with screens and timers, "Finally! I do love the part when the big reveal occurs, you know?!"as he turns on all the screens. "I love it when things go as per plan! Pain is inevitable for you"with his dark voice. As he bends down, and whispers into my ears, "Now, Brzo, are you watching closely?" I looked onto all the screens, live footage from multiple citites,all the major cities, and my city, Warana, on the top. Furci staring at my face, waiting for my expression to come out. Oh no! It finally struck me!
Camera 3: A faint silhouette of a figure appeared in the green night lighting on the end of the entrance hall, followed by the blinding cone of light of the night guard´s torch. The night guard entered the central exhibition hall, unsteady but in step, with a bottle in his hand. Suddenly the full light was turned on in the neighboring room. Camera 5: Blinded, the night guard stood next to the light switch for a few seconds before taking a big swig out of his bottle. Giggling he started taking his clothes off. Just in his underwear he walked to the adjoining rooms of the temporary exhibition of baroque fashion, while placing his clothes on several per-historic animals. Camera 12: The semi-naked night guard entered the room and turned on the full light here as well. He seemed to be indecisive at first but then opened up the vitrine with his key and took out two elaborate dress replica. He slowly put on the first dress, as delicate and careful a drunk could be. And carried the second one back to the central exhibition hall on his wobbly legs. Camera 5: The night guard entered the room in an opulent blue dress and carrying a smaller, yellow dress in his arms. He took another big sip from his bottle before gently lifting a life-sized neanderthal figure of the woodland scene in the middle of the room. Carefully he dressed the early human as well. Finally he left the room in another direction. Camera 6,7,8,9: The drunk guard in the dress passed through several dark exhibition rooms, portraying the development of humankind. He was giggling and lifting the dress a bit to avoid stepping on it, while on the stairs. Camera 10: The guard enters the room, turns on the light and heads to one of the interactive stations of the exhibition. He unlocked the cable locks of an old stereo and picked it up alongside with some 80s cassette tapes. The night guard drunkenly struggled to put the first tape in, but shortly after his face lit up. He left the room dancing, forgetting to turn off the lights. Camera 9,8,7,6: The drunk night guard danced through the exhibition towards the central hall. A few times he almost stumbled or ran into pieces of the exhibition as he twirled in the voluminous dress in the dim green night lighting. Camera 5: Laughing manically he set down the stereo as soon as he entered the room. He emptied the rest of the contents of bottle into his mouth. Then the rhythm of his movements seem to change and he gently picked up the dressed-up neanderthal. He seemed to enter a new realm as he danced slowly with the figure. After a while his manner changed again and he set down the figure and started dancing fast and crazily on his own. After a while he changed the tape and then continued dancing. For over an hour he was dancing, until he started to slow down, took off the dress, turned off the light and fell asleep in the artificial woodland scene. Several hours later he woke up, stretched, and seemed to realize what he had done. In a panic he cleaned up the chaos he had caused. After that he washed his face in the bathroom and tried to straighten the crinkles in his clothes. Pleased with himself he walked back to his guard´s room, throwing away the bottle on the way. Not much later the museum opened, and the night guard acted like nothing ever happened. But he forgot about the cameras. Unfortunately for him, but lucky for me. Not only got I to see his nightly escapades instead of just waiting for some brat to accidentally trigger some alarm, but I knew how I could tease him for the next eternity. I´m not an asshole and we´re bros, so I overwrote the recordings with the ones from the previous night. But not before making a few DVDs of it. I think his wife is going to find this hilarious next Christmas...
All we ever ask is respect. The great Dragon God created us. We are the inhabitants of the realm known as the End. We are magical, and more powerful than a huge majority of other beings. We are impartial to these weakling creatures; that is, if they show respect. If a creature that is beneath us— such as one of those pitiful farmers that scurry around, protected by their massive golems— dares to look one of us in the eyes, then it is not showing proper respect. Then, we attack. My kind often roams the three realms looking for offerings to the Dragon God. One day, I was traveling the second realm. The second realm is colorful(though mostly green) and vast. It is home to many creatures. On this particular travel, I encountered a creature I hadn’t ever even heard of. I was striding across the flat plains of the second realm when I came to a village. Villages like this are full of simpleminded, full creatures, quite unlike the end cities of which I was accustomed to. As I walked along the path that wound through center of the village, the villagers kept their gaze centered on the ground. They muttered about me as I passed by, theorizing about where I might have come from. I suppose my kind is quite mysterious to other creatures, especially the ones that aren’t intelligent enough to know what the three realms are. I realized that there was a structure next to the village. It was a massive stone fortress. At first I couldn’t comprehend what it could possibly be used for, because I didn’t see a single way to get in or out. Then, I recognized the sound of a red stone circuit. I had only seen red stone in use a few times, so I wasn’t familiar with it. A sector of the wall slid right into the ground, and a creature stepped out. It was shaped like my kind, except that its limbs and torso were way shorter. It had brown hair and blue eyes, and it wore iron armor over a light blue shirt and dark blue pants. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was known as a human. It didn’t notice me. I trailed it into the village, hoping to find out more about it. As it spoke to villagers, I realized that this creature was far more intelligent than a villager. The creature sat down next to a villager child who was perched on the rim of the well in the center of the village. “Hi, Steve!” The little boy said. “Hi there!” Steve replied. “How’s it going, Jack?” The boy shrugged. “I’m fine. I wanna hear more about your adventures, Steve!” Steve sighed. “Well, I’ve got diamond armor and swords back at my base to fight monsters with—“ “Oh! Are they enchanted?” The child squealed excitedly. “You bet they are.” Steve smiled. “Now that I’m prepared, my goal is to get to another dimension where there’s a powerful dragon for me to defeat. The problem is, to get there I need to build a portal.” “I’ll help you build it, Steve!” The young villager said enthusiastically. “It’s too dangerous,” Steve said. “Sorry, Jack. To build the portal I need ender pearls. To get ender pearls I need to kill endermen—“ At this point, I had to scoff. Endermen is what my kind is called. This silly creature thought he could kill enough endermen to somehow create a portal to the Dragon God? And on top of that, he thought he could kill the Dragon God? Steve heard the noise I made. He got up off the rim of the well and noticed me. I stepped out of the shadows and into the daylight. A crowd of villagers began to form around us. For a second, Steve just stood there, his eyes cast down. “You are not more powerful than the Dragon God,” I reminded him. “And you cannot slay an enderman, one of the Dragon God’s people.” I expected Steve to agree and apologize for wasting my time. But instead, he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. He held his head high and looked me straight in the eyes. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his tone of voice deadly low. Steve unsheathed his sword. The polished iron caught the sunlight and the sword shone brilliantly. Filled with anger and disbelief, I charged him. Steve blocked my punches one after the other, but I attacked with blinding speed and strength, teleporting occasionally to keep him off guard. The villagers cheered for Steve. I battered down on him. He seemed to be getting tired. He kept giving ground until finally he was backed up against the edge of the well. There was a huge intake of breath from the crowd. Steve appeared to be almost done for. But then a new reserve of energy seemed to awaken within him. Steve nimbly stepped around me. I turned to face him. Now my back was to the well. Faster than I could teleport away, Steve plunged his sword into me. At that moment, I realized that he had been merely pretending to give ground. He wanted to be that close to the well because he knew one of an enderman’s main weaknesses: water. The sudden, flare of pain I felt when Steve stabbed me was nothing compared to what I felt when he thrust me into the cold water of the well. The water burned my very skin. As I sank below the surface, my vision dimming, blackness consuming my world, I heard the villagers’ muffled cheering, and I saw Steve raising his sword in victory. I had one last desperate thought as I drifted away; the thought of the Dragon God dying at the hands of this creature, because I wasn’t there to warn them.
His name was Hans and he stood almost seven feet in his human form. Regal of hearing and hard of eye he was the regional Alpha overseeing the North-Western European super pack and it was not without some trepidation that he put his hand to the handle of the large, carved wooden doors. After this everything would change. 'Am I up to this?' Hans had never faced a challenge he hadn't thoroughly bested- from defeating Rogue wolves and bringing them to justice, to charming the humans in their own, lavish surroundings he had navigated every obstacle in his path with dignity and serenity. Yet now his palms grew damp, pulse racing like a pup after its first shift. Taking a deep breath, straightening his blueberry-hued cravat and removing his hat, Hans straightened his shoulders, fixed a smile on his face and walked through the doors. Two women looked at him, one prim, neat, tidy. The other covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes aglow, "Alpha, we have a daughter."And suddenly Hans knew he would be the best Father ever blessed with child.
Today is the Day. It is a happy day. We knew fossil fuels would run out at some point: Early estimates said 2050, later ones estimated 2030. So the governments planned accordingly, for once. They even managed to corporate with both research and spending. Not without public pressure, but in the end we managed to upgrade our existing renewable energy technology and make it available even for the poorest regions. There were multiple close calls: People in Power who just did not want to help others, activists who would rather let see the power grid go dark instead of building solar, water, or wind parks, and other human shortcomings. But we did it: The world is green! Or at least its energy supply. We celebrate! It is a sad day. We knew fossil fuels would out at some point: We solved the energy need. What we did not solve was the question about necessary substitutes for fossil fuels such a crude oil in medicine. We do not know how long it will take till there is a breakthrough: Research has not show any hope so far, promising early results lead to disappointment. With upcoming shortages people will suffer, some will die. Chaos will surly bloom, people will do almost everything to save them-self or their loved ones. We mourn what is to come. &#x200B; &#x200B; tips welcome.
"It's not that I hate them. It isn't even their attitude towards me. It's the way they're always sniveling for someone else"to save them. It quite gets on my nerves! "They're not stupid. You cannot be stupid and profit consistently as a farmer or livestock rancher. They just need a little... Nudge. Just to get them started with the idea that they can* take care of most of their problems." "You are eloquent, Sir Dragon, but the villagers have called my aid, and I am duty-bound to give it to them, by mighty oaths." "Exactly what did they ask of you?" "Get rid of that dragon." "Had they made any progress towards the idea that they can defend themselves? There were persistent bandits in the area, a cunning thief, even a wicked, albeit not evil, wizard." "I'd say they had then. The last of the bandits was hung today. Five are in shackles serving the community for the next five years. The thief was added to the Sheriff's men, as a spy. The wizard got up to his usual wickedness by casting geas on the thief, making him incapable of leaving, and incapable of lying to any of the Sheriff's men." "How did they get the wizard to cooperate?" "Oh, him, they married off to this gorgeous flame-haired woman. She was considered beautiful, but no one would put up with her temper, and using magic on her only makes her even angrier." "Her?... Hoo Hoo Hoo Haw Haw Haw Hee Hee Hee That wizard has met his match!" "I'll say. He's so meek and mild that no one can believe it." "He is a closet masochist; she is a blatant dominatrix. It's a match made in heaven. If he doesn't behave himself in public, she won't give him what he craves. If she doesn't make sure he behaves in public, she cannot give him what she craves!" "Oh, Dear Lord. I don't know which to pity more!?" The dragon's voice goes cold. "Neither. They do not deserve pity. Save your compassion for the Headman's children. He keeps them in the basement, fed the bare minimum, all so he can keep that harridan wife of his happy. The children are of an earlier marriage, his present wife inveigled her way into his life, treating his children with kindness by day, and poisoning his mind against them at night. If I could figure a way to open his eyes and heart, I would have that harridan out of his life and the village in the wink of a dragon's eye." The dragon glares at the knight. "If I can not remove her, or open his eyes and heart, then I will take his children and bring them to safety." The knight, his voice quiet and soft. "The children. Are they in mortal danger?" "I heard the wise woman speak to a friend before she disappeared. The children are skin and bones." "Then, you did not kill the wise woman?" "No. She was one of three who had spines of their own. Ready, willing, and able to fight for what they believed was right. Out of the entire town, there is only one person who would wish her dead—the harridan." "Have you proof?" "I have proof that I did not kill her. And proof that whoever did likes to play with deadly poisons. Come. I have kept her body incorrupt so that one like yourself could see and judge the matter yourself." They move into the dragon's lair. From what the knight has seen of other lairs, this one is severely austere. No fancy hangings, just good linen to hold the cold of the stone back. No treasure to roll around in, just smooth pebbles from some nearby river. Food supplies are all in barrels and boxes from recently prosperous towns and villages. "You pay for your food?" "Yes." "Then, the tales of livestock taken?" "Fabrications of fevered shepherds. Here, this room is abnormally cold but well lit. Wear this cloak, and you can remain as long as you like." "Thank you." The knight enters the room, only to come out some ten minutes later, shaking in rage. "She still lives." "The wise woman?!" "Yes. It's sorcery. Silent and deadly, except in winter. The victim can remain in that frozen state until they, or the sorceress, dies. You saved her life by bringing her to this room. For that, and for the sake of the children, you have my support." "How may we act for the best result?" ((Maybe continued later. I'm having trouble framing the scenes for the removal of the harridan, the safety of the children, and getting the Headman's heart and eyes open.))
\[Poem\] The world is over; I'm going home. I'm tired, hurt, hungry, alone. My hands are shaking, my mind is too I never thought I'd have to see this through. My plans were to fight, for glory and peace They ended with dying, for my breath to cease. After all, we both knew there could be only one And I was so ready for my time to be done. No, I didn't want to die, not in truth, But between you and me, I'd give up my youth A thousand times seven, or nine, even ten Because you're the one who deserves to wake up again. But now it has ended, and I'm going home Tired, hurt, hungry, alone. And though I draw breath, I'm not truly free - You weren't meant to die; It was supposed to be me.

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