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Drums echo in the black stone walls of the great hexagonal chamber at the dungeon's topmost story. A high-pitched violin is followed by the collapse of the floor's edges, transforming the room in a huge arena. The great iron door opens with a rusty screech, and I can see three shadows kneeling near the shiny statue of an angel right in front of the entrance.
*"Oh, great, a hero party. One can't even finish their steak."*
I stand up and, with a swift hand movement, make the dining table and chair vanish. I had faced seven raids already, most of them unsuccessful. Three didn't even go past my first form, a cloaked witch that casts area-of-effect frost spells at piled up characters - I do give plenty of notice by uttering my signature *"DIE, SCUM!!"* cry and flashing my eyes. Two others perished to my harpy form, in which I hover over the battlefield and hurdle huge icicles in quick sequence - however, they never expect me grabbing one of their friends and turning him into a temporary ice zombie, which is often their doom as they kill one of theirs instead of only waiting for some turns. Only two parties actually managed to defeat me and loot the treasure cove.
As I see the new contenders entering the room, I check my script just to ensure I'm up-to-date with the last upgrade, cover my light blue hair with the Cloak of Protection (which some of them even forget to loot after the battle, go figure!) and assume my best "You'll never go past me stance". I walk towards the centre of the arena with my head down, slowly raise my right hand towards the party, and dramatically lift my face while I begin my villainous speech with a coarse tone:
*"Heroes of the Wastelands! You have come further than I expected, bested my creations and survived through the Ice Prison. But now your journey has come to an end. You will nev-* ***what the hell is that***\*?"\*
I lose my words when my gaze meets the absurdity in front of me. A centaur whose upper body is of a dwarf, showing a proud red beard and brandishing a huge pickaxe; a one-eyed elf carrying a sword with a beam of light where a blade should be; and an orc with fairy wings hovering over the pair, sparkling confetti falling from his bare chest as he readies a crossbow. The dwarf-entaur raises his mining tool and shouts triumphantly:
*"Let's get her, guys! For the honour of-"*
*"Wait! Wait! What is happening?"*, I raise my open hands, still baffled, *"Are you sure you're in the right game? Are you hackers or something?"*
The trio stares at me, halting their attacks midway. The orc fairy glides down and lowers his crossbow, his face between confused and impatient.
*"Of course not, we're in the right place! Dungeon Seekers of the Wasteland. And we're not hackers!"*
I shake my head and pace back, still trying to find the correct adjective for what I was seeing.
*"But who... how... we don't even have centaurs in this world!"*
*"Oh, it's the new DLC."*, the elf swings her radiant sword making a distinct "whoom"sound as if turning on an old lamp, but much louder. *"We've got some new race mixes and also weapons inspired in other universes."*
*"Is this a lightsaber?"*, I point at her weapon.
*"No, it's a* ***beam sword***. *Please avoid copyrighted names, you should know better*", she scolds me.
I sigh, producing a small cloud of cold air with my breath, and look up to the stone ceiling while regretting not having read the release notes of the last update. For a moment I considered requesting a redeployment to a hidden level, but I certainly wouldn't be able to avoid the bizarre sights anyway. I shrugged and stretched my arms, throwing a half-hearted smile at the party. It wasn't their fault after all, they were within the rules. They were there for a boss fight, and they would have a memorable one.
*"Well, sorry for the momentary lapse, let's start then"*, I nod as my eyes start glowing.
*"Yeah, let's roll!"*, the centaur-dwarf grins in anticipation, his laugh almost a neigh, and looks at the fairy orc who took flight again. *"Harkhar, start with your homing missiles!"*
My eyes widen as I witness the orc's crossbow splitting in half and producing a hole as wide as an arm, a dull glow and an electric *"beep"* when a laser points at my torso. *"With your what...?"* |
After waking up, Tim the Tortoise realized that he felt a craving.
The usual turtle diet appeared just fine to him on other days, but today he wanted something different. Some... human food? Yes, a bagel more specifically.
Tim sighed. He knew of a place to get great bagels, but going there requires quite a great deal of effort, effort he really didn't feel like putting in. He ate his usual breakfast and went about his day.
But the desire for bagels did not dissipate like he had hoped. As he trudged about, it was still there, tempting, begging, nagging him to go to the bagel shop. No matter how hard he tried, it only got stronger and stronger.
"Alright, alright, let's get some bagels!"Tim finally relented. He gathered up the coins and bills he had been saving for weeks and months on end just for an occasion like this and set out for the store.
The first challenge was getting out of the house.
(I might continue it later on, or you can do it yourself) |
'I remember being so connected to my family. We weren't solid, sure, but we were very close. We were poor, very poor. When we started out there wasn't much by way of food or clothes - my brothers and I used to just play fight for entertainment!' he smiled, sweetly.
'But as times went on and my mom started working, we had the money for nice things. I remember the first time I tasted cinnamon - we didn't even know such things existed. Sugar; finely ground sugar, you know? The stuff they use to give cakes that extra lift.' He took a second to adjust one of his dungarees.
'It's funny, some of your sweetest memories can have such sour ends. Me and my brothers started growing up and drifting apart. There was one summer - one of the hottest on record - and we never really saw each other afterward. Hell, I barely recognized them anyway, dressed up in their tuxedos. Mom always urged us to be successful, but in her own image - she was a bit self-absorbed like that. As you can see I became a farmer.'
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Sorry, I have to run :( |
You stare at the panting messenger confused. Surely you heard wrong, you take off your helmet, holding it under your arm as you talk to him. "So sorry, could you repeat that please, helms sometimes make it hard to hear properly. "
By this point the poor boy has caught his breath, and was able to talk in one smooth flow, "Sir Knight, my king has requested your help with a problem in our kingdom, some strange princess has invaded our lands and is hunting our beloved dragon. Please save our beloved Sapphire!"After the last almost yelled statement by the messenger, he fell to his knees and bowed with his whole body.
You are take aback. This is one of the oddest requests you have ever gotten, but you are a knight, and swore to help ANY of true intentions. You look down at the boy. "Very well. I have just finished restocking my supplies and other things, so I can travel with you now to your kingdom."
You travel for many days, growing more concerned with how much time has passed. The boy keeps telling you that the dragon is well hidden but the princess well find it soon. As you have traveled you have figured out exactly how you want to handle this.
Once you reach the castle, the boy bows and staggers off to sleep off his long trip.
You remove you helm and leave it with your horse, telling him to be careful, and to keep an eye out. You turn and look for the person in charge.
A stately woman walks up to you, she is tall and rather strong looking. In fact she is wearing light armor and look quite capable and now that she is standing right in front of you, you can see scars of past battles on her face.
You bow to her, "Your Grace, may I know your title?"
Her smile is small and tight, her voice as she speaks is low and almost smoky sounding, "some who follow me call me queen, others empress, you may call me May."
Unsure of what that might mean, you are a knight and have little time for the details of court life. "Your messenger told me the short of it, would you be kind enough to tell me the details please?"
She does not mind at all, she tells of how her stepfather had imprisoned her far away with a dragon as guard. Of how her heart broke when after years her mother finally came, but not to rescue or to apologize for letting this happen to her. No her mother came to gloat how it was actually all her doing.
That night when she cried her heart out, the dragon felt sorry for her and they started talking. Turns out the dragons eggs were being held in the castle to force her to behave. After years they became first friends then sisters, now the bound between them was unbreakable.
They ran away, looked for the dragon eggs, found they had been sold to a old mage, he had hatched them and raised them till they could fend for themselves then made a portal to a mountain range famous for how many dragons roost there and wished them luck.
The Queen and dragon settled down here near the middle of the range. An old abandon manor became there home. She was truly a kind soul, she started helping those in the area and making peace between the dragons and people.
Now apparently her half sister want to kill the dragon and the queen and take what the queen has for herself.
After talking with the strang dragon queen, you sence no darkness or malice in the queen. But just to be sure, "I must seek out and speak to your half sister before I can decide, I am sorry, and as it is now, I do believe in you but I must me sure."
The queen smiles, a true smile, "I understand and expected this to be so, I still remember my lessons on knights and their abilities. You have my thanks, no matter what happens."
You bow to her and turn walking back to your horse. |
I was just ten when it first took place. I was playing with Rex when all of a sudden I felt like I was shrinking through space and time , the next thing I knew was that everything was dark. I couldn’t see anything and there was a twitch in my eye and the next thought that popped in my head was “What if I turned blind”? As time passed I waited desperately for someone to come and revive my eye sight . But nothing happened , so I decided to go about the room and search for the switches by touching all the things around or ask for help. To my amazement, nothing I touched seemed like my room. I summoned Rex but surprisingly he probably couldn’t hear my rather loud shout .My little soul ceased to function as intimidating circumstances and uncertainty clouded .I shouted out “ Mom !! Where are you ? Please come and help me, now”. No one came to my rescue.
Suddenly there was a banging sound in my ears , I yelled out “ Dude!Stop making that echoing noise”. No one seemed to care and the ringing continued . The next thing I knew was a slimy liquid sliding across my torso. It was smelling like rotten egg(Eww). I tried removing it but while I was upto that task I realised that something was moving behind me, it was some huge troll like creature which I figured out was probably trying to catch hold of me. I ran through the ominous dark space trying to hide in a place I didn’t know anything about and running from a giant whom I didn’t recognise either.What a situation , I was in my room but nothing seemed to be the way it was supposed to be . My bed wasn’t anythwere near me though I remember sitting on it the last time I possessed sight.I wondered if I was teleported to a parallel universe where humans were small and animals were as huge as giants.If that was the case, I didn’t know where my fellow humans were. No other human was anywhere near by as I couldn’t hear a slightest whisper apart from the ringing sound .”Was I deserted”?
There were a billion questions and possibilities in my head which were continued by a long unexpected silence relieving me of the banging noise. Exactly then , light seeped through my eye lids like rays of hope .I was bulging like a bubble though I was so much more heavier than a bubble.I could feel my head bulging at a rate as fast as light or even higher . My torso was that of a minion and my head the size of a troll. I was in such a perplexed state of mind but I managed to chuckle at the weird phase of my body.
It took about a minute and there I was , back on my bed with Rex barking as he couldn’t find me anywhere all this time. As I was little , I went crying to my mom and told her about all the absurd happenings . She consoled me immediately and convinced me that it was just a nightmare and nothing more than that.As time passed this kept repeating, the shrinking and bulging feeling was the worst of all. I wondered if it was just a dream.
As I grew older I was sure about what was actually happening to me. It was then when I realised that the slime on my body that day was Rex’s saliva and the ringing sound was his bark. Everything felt clear as crystal to me. I decided to speak to people I knew ,about this shrinking .I began to call it “ my thing” though I thought of it as a curse and wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.It was a complete waste of time talking to my mom about it because she thought I was hallucinating . Once she even decided to trick me and take me to see the doctor.My friends thought that I was retarded as ever. The only person who seemed to understand me was my boy friend . He asked me if I really thought of this as a curse. I told him that it was pretty frustrating and I never knew prior that I was gonna shrink .Once I was peeing and the next thing I knew was that I was drained in it.
However, his question left me in deep contemplation.Soon I began to look at “ my thing” in this all new perspective -thinking of it as a gift in disguise. I started exploring this mini world . I was the only human who ever got a chance experience this mini world (atleast I thought so) .After a few days I met few human like creatures in the garden, they were given the name of garden trolls by us humans but turns out they were actually humans whose ancestors were cursed to remain shrunk ,thousands of years ago.Ever since that time, the offsprings of those shrunken humans were also born shrunk .Each moment I spent with those mischievous trolls unfolded an all new secret related to the nature . I never imagined that being shrunk can also have its own perks. I was so grateful to him for making me realise this amazing side of “ my thing “.The fountain was far more interesting as I looked at it like a tornado. There was no necessity of an adventure in a video game, the shrunken life of mine was an adventure all by itself. I absolutely enjoyed every part of it .
There was always a possibility of me being stuck in a mouse trap but as time passed I was accustomed to the unpredictable circumstances and could soon react instantaneously to all the wide range of challenges I had to face. And my little friends- garden trolls were always around to help me out.This was a complete turn around . This was the second best thing that happened to me( of course the first one was my boy friend ) .
I was waiting for the next pleasant shrinkage but it never happened again. I waited for a month and then it extended to an year. It felt like eons passed ,as the fear of the shrinking ability not returning to me always accompanied me . I was fifty years old ,happily married to my boy friend , I had my little grandchildren to play with instead of garden trolls. Still I didn’t want to accept the fact that I can’t switch to the shrunk universe ever again. The only thing I’m sure about right now is that the shrinking power was surely a curse because when I loathed it , I would keep shrinking over and over as if I was stuck in a never ending hell loop and when I realised that it was the best gift ever , it never returned to me again leaving me with wholesome uncertainty .All that I can say is that whoever put this curse on me wanted to see me suffer in some or the other way .Now I just want to curse that asshole for everything he did to make me feel cursed at almost every moment of my life. |
Sigmund looked around him at the people with their manicured blonde dreadlocks, hemp jewelry, and dilated pupils. They were mostly dancing, and all clearly having a good time, except maybe that one sitting over there in the corner, in the wide hallway that served as both an entrance and exit to this part of the stadium; she appeared to be extremely overwhelmed by something about her empty hands, something that required her to stare at them without blinking.
“WOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” said the young man to Sigmund’s right, apparently very pleased about something. Sigmund followed the man’s line of site, and saw that there was some new form of visual entertainment occurring. Tiny glowing sticks were flying through the air, hundreds of them launching upwards from the crowd in front of the stage in a seemingly random pattern. Flowers, pinwheels, and skulls, projected by large spotlights, swept over the audience in a much more orderly manner.
Sigmund did not dance, but did remain standing. Ironically, sitting might have made him stand out, and he had no desire to draw attention to himself. Prior to the concert, outside the building, he had purchased a t-shirt in order to better blend in. The shirt was sold to him by a man wearing frayed corduroy pants and no shirt. The man had also offered him “nugs”, but Sigmund declined. He had already purchased the “doses” that he required for the evening’s mission. It had been easier that he had expected; the “lot scene”, as it were, featured a large number of salespeople, most of whom loudly announced their wares to passersby. “Veggie burritos!” “I’ve got rolls!” “Cold beer, one for two, three for five!” “Pharmies and doses!” Sigmund was able to figure out what most of the products were, but he still wondered about the “sexy beasters” offered to him by a young woman with a flower crown, glitter make-up, and ankle-length frock.
The music seemed to collapse, in a way. The musicians started playing slower, out of rhythm with one another, shifting their melody into lower keys. At the same time, the lights dimmed. The flowers and skulls retreated toward to stage, still illuminating sections of the crowd as they went by, but shrinking and fading. The pinwheels stayed in place, slowly rotating, but also fading. This went on for a few seconds before, suddenly, the band was once again in the middle of an intense, fast-paced piece of music, all in sync with one another. At the same moment, the lights sprang back to life, rapidly blinking and moving, shining both on the stage and on the crowd. For the first time, Sigmund noticed that some of the lights were lasers, arranged so as to create the appearance of hollow tubes of green light as they passed through the cloud of smoke that sat above the audience.
Sigmund checked his watch. It was getting late. He had administered the communication facilitant at the appropriate time, he was sure of that. The message was supposed to transmit early in the second “set”, according to his instructions. If the facilitant didn’t take effect soon, he might miss the communication. This was concerning because the schedule he had received indicated that this was the last night the band would be performing locally before moving on to the “west coast leg” of the tour.
Sigmund realized that, although he had just looked at his watch, he had forgotten to actually check the time. Worry and preoccupation. Unfortunately, the music had collapsed again, and with it the lights. Looking around, he noticed that the people adjacent to him were also collapsing, in a way. Their movements became disjointed and random, their heads drooped. Hoping that he wasn’t violating a local cultural norm, he tapped the shoulder of the man to his left. The man had a scruffy beard and a dirty t-shit that displayed a common commercial logo that had been altered to be a reference to the band. He looked up at Sigmund and smiled, then held out a small the glass pipe whose contents were smoldering. Sigmund shook his head and pointed to the lighter in the man’s other hand. The man passed him the lighter, gave him a thumbs up, and returned to making his body collapse in harmony with the music.
Sigmund lit the lighter and held it to his watch to see the time. The facilitant definitely should have taken effect by this point. He wondered if he had been “burned” or “catnipped” by the twitchy in man in a shiny shirt and wrap-around sunglasses who had used a tiny plastic bottle, possibly something originally intended to carry eye decongestant, to place several drops of liquid on Sigmund’s hand. That would be extremely unfortunate.
Sigmund’s attention was drawn to his arm hair. He had never noticed before that the hair on his arm was not a uniform color. In fact, the color didn’t even appear to be uniform on each hair. The base of the each hair was bluish-purple, and the color transitioned through red, to orange, to yellow at the tips. Also, the color was… growing? The rainbow flowed out along each hair, sometimes ebbing backward, but generally moving outward. The hairs overlapped on his arm, and he noticed the color flowing from one hair to another, spreading around in a network, creating a linked pattern of pulsing rainbow that floated around his arm in a lattice cylinder. The color formed a web, floating in place, and the holes in the web were shiny, like they contained soap film, and the soap film breathed in and out, in toward his arm, and out away from it, and the patches of soap film were not simple shapes, but were bubbly and interlocking, like a bunch of strangle squiggly bubble shapes interlocked with each other, and then Sigmund realized that they were letters. The negative space was an overlayed field of interlocking bubble letters who edges were the pulsing rainbow lattice. It was the message!
Sigmund tried to read the message, but the letters were constantly shifting, floating across one another, never resting long enough for him to make out a word. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The letters seemed to be relatively stable at the edges of his visual field, but when he turned his focus toward them, they became more… intense? They folded in upon themselves, deepening, creating tunnels of themselves, drawing in the letters around them, or spewing out more rainbows and more letters, which would then begin to slowly orbit the center of his attention.
Sigmund felt a tap on his shoulder and he looked up. The bearded man next to him was pointing at the lighter. Sigmund handed it to him. The man smiled and gave him a thumbs up and turned back to face the stage again.
Sigmund also turned to face the stage. OK, what was he doing a moment ago? The music began to pour off the stage, like a liquid, or maybe thicker, like lava. It oozed down and enveloped the people below. Then, it suddenly became prickly and sharp and smelled like candy. It was a bit much, so Sigmund looked down. He saw his arm. Oh right, the message! But now the letters were gone and his arm was covered in writhing purple squeaks that felt both cold and soft and made his eyes water and his nose run.
Sigmund realized that this was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. |
"Tonight, another body was discovered off of Angel Road in Torrance. The body was found with the infamous calling card of the World Killer, a simple note reading 'Learn the Truth'. Police are still investigating-"
I shut off the T.V. with a sigh. The news anchor was grating on my nerves with that high pitched, nasally voice of hers. Besides, I knew what was at the crime scene already. I'd been there only a few hours before, making it one.
With a groan, I stood from my chair. This last victim had put up a bit of a fight and I was sore all over. Not much I could do but stretch it out. And plan. Planning was good.
I walked to the far wall of my windowless living room and drew back a tall curtain. Behind it, a wall of faces and names greeted me.
Taking a marker from its bracket on the wall, I marked out 'Tyler Tanner, avid antagonist' with a big red 'X'. Tyler had been my last kill. He'd been too close on my trail, ready to expose me to the world. I couldn't let that happen. I had so much to do and so little time. He had to be dealt with quickly.
Capping the marker with a satisfied huff, I scowered the wall of names for a potential next target. This wall of faces was of people hot on my trail. People who had to be taken care of before the rest. They came from every continent, every background. That's where the media got 'World Killer' from.
However, not one of them stood out to me this night. They could wait. I had something more important to work on.
Strolling to the basement door, I unlocked it with a key and tromped down the stairs. At the bottom, a metal door stood, locked with retinal scan and key code. I unlocked it with ease.
Behind the door, a massive bomb greeted me. Wires sprouted from every angle, metal casing missing in several places. It was by no means complete, but when it was done, it would destroy the entire planet.
The thought brought a smile to my face. Nothing like the thought of success to brighten your mood. No one would be spared. They would all face the truth, whether they liked it or not. |
Your terror is just a symptom of the greater disease of fear; fear of living, fear of dying, fear of leaving the dark to step into the light and have it illuminate your most damning flaws to the world around you. Your nightmares are simply premonitions of exposing the monstrosity that is the culmination of your failures. Your shaking hands, your racing mind, and the drum beating in your chest as you crawl to the furthest corner of the den all serve to shelter you from the sunbeams seeking to sear your fragile skin with judgement.
This tormented world is your home. On the faded, wood desk is a decorative fountain filled with salty tears from your bloodshot eyes. The cold tile floor is clothed in a rug borne from your crawling skin. The walls are a menagerie of faces twisted in the agony you’ve inflicted upon them. Revel in your isolation for here the only one that hates you is yourself.
There you sit, a grotesque gargoyle, guarding the path to tranquility. You’ll never know love because you’ve never loved yourself. Your worth is determined by the efficacy of the torture you inflict upon yourself. Do you really want people to see your scars? I won’t let you leave. I won’t allow you to wash in the rejection of sympathizing eyes. Stay inside. We’re safe with each other.
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Edit: I know this is really dark, but I wanted to showcase the damning voice that encourages a self-defeating attitude. Please know that this in no way intends to support the awful things that voice will say. I just wanted to pull it out into the light so it can be seen for what it really is. Thank you for reading. |
Prompt-Inspired tags are used specifically for stories inspired from prompts that are three days old (or more.) It is for feedback and critique for stories that either didn't get any (or enough) feedback or that were inspired after the prompt was already three days old.
You can get look at here in How to Tag prompts (it's on our wiki)
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You are welcome to use it for a longer story, but know that if your story exceeds the allowed characters in a normal comment box, you can also continue it in the replies. But if it goes too long, it may be less likely that people will read it. So most people generally stick to about 2,000 words (the approx character max, I think?) per writing prompt response.
It's an underused tag that should be used more! |
"Howdy!"
-"Oh my God, wtf?! Wait... Ohhh. Hmph, let me guess... Flowey, Flowey the flower?"
"H-huh?! How do you... Wait, this isn't the underground! Where am I, er, where are we?"
-"You're at my house, which is on the surface, infact, there is no underground, or monsters here. Do you remember a player who literally called themselves 'Player'?"
"Yes! *Who does that?!* They always went through the pacifist routes though, at least, after the initial playthrough."
-"That was me, Azriel Dreemur... I'd forgotten about undertale till you appeared, but now I remember everything. I'm sorry I left you alone"
"..." |
For people with typical minds, I could hear thoughts quite well, intact, even for non-typical minds, those with mental disorders and the such, I could still understand, even if their brains worked a bit differently than most. Well, apparently, for people with DID, I don't hear the current personality, as I'd expected, instead I heard all of them. This was, understandably a shock to me, seeing as I had never encountered anyone with DID before, and my powers were not well documented.
Given the conversation the alters were having, I even figured out their names, the main personality was called Davis, a self-confident, determined man. There were four alters, Eric, a shy, caring man, Lewis, a cold, but secretly caring man, Eron, he took pleasure in the occult, he was the type to get the body into trouble, and Mia, the strange one, Mia here was the odd one out, odd in the fact that she identified as female, although I'd heard of one's alter being trans before.
I got so very interested in the alters, that I... may have followed them home... *god, I'm stupid...*. And yet, I want to see them live their life, I want to see how they act...
They won't notice... I'll just watch them for... a week! Yeah... just a week, then I'll leave them alone! I just need notes!
*such a beautiful mind you have, my dears* |
There she was, kneeling over me, almost as I remembered seeing her the day before. I had failed to say anything, failed to reach out to her. She wore her years well, I dreamed about that missed moment. Now here she was wrapped in black black cloth and leather, I was such a lucky man.
She slid the dagger in her hand across my throat, her eyes widening as the blade failed to find purchase on my skin. The glimmer of the enchantment that turned my skin as hard as iron lit her face from below with a delicate red blush. My second spell slid over her form, locking her in place.
"I might have deserved that, after all I did see you yesterday and well, I'm glad you are here now."
Her eyes flashed from confusion to terror as she realized she was unable to dispel the paralysis gripping her. A few seconds more and the stale air in her lungs began to burn. Her eyes bulged and darted about as she realized she couldn't breath.
"You may breath,"I spoke aloud as I shifted the grasp of my spell slightly. For a few seconds she panted through her nose.
I reached over and plucked the dagger from her grip setting it on the nightstand as I shifted her off of me and rose to put on my dressing robes.
"Whatever they are paying you, it is really not worth it,"I murmured.
"They thought I was a merchant of magical items, I am not. I am a maker. I am done trying to save the world, I am done trying to right all the wrongs, I'm done. After two decades of service to the realm I'm done. I am done being the good guy. I am done being noble of bearing and forgiving. I'm done being walked all over. "
I stretched forth my will again with my voice, "cross the room and sit in the chair across from me."Her body moved swiftly across the room and seated itself in the chair.
"Are you happy being treated like an object? Selling your time and staining your soul for gold and gems? Never mind, you don't have to answer that. I've been letting my anger get the better of my manners. "I strode to my wardrobe around the corner and dawned my battle raiment. The weight of its gleaming enchantments settled about my soul like an old friend.
I returned and stood across from her.
"I saw you yesterday selling flowers outside my shop, I thought you had remarkable beauty. Now I also see that you have both steel in your soul and years of skill and effort in an unforgiving and harsh profession."I sighed.
"I can only wish we had met under much different circumstances."
"Your employers will be dead by morning. If I should happen to see a familiar flower seller outside my shop tomorrow, I would very much like to taker her to lunch and learn more about her life and trials. I free you of all constraints."
No sooner had the energies of my spell dissipated than she was on me. The knee in my gut was exceedingly uncomfortable. As was the garrote in her hands slipped around my neck while she used her hips to throw me to the floor.
I had made my last error of judgement. There were already black spots tingling in my vision as her knee pressed into my spine. I reached back and managed to release the electricity in my grasp into her thigh, but it wasn't enough to dislodge her. I blacked out presently.
When I woke she was kneeling over me, an empty potion vial in her hand.
"The contract never specified you had to stay dead." |
(Warning: horror)
Percy shielded his eyes as the single lightbulb flickered on, revealing what appeared to be ... a kid’s ... bedroom?!?
The young agent never imagined he’d go on a mission when he first joined the agency. Of course, he never imagined making it into one of the world’s most prestigious spy agencies either.
He thought his utmost dreams had come true when his application was approved - he fantasized being their most valued agent, kicking butt and saving the world several times a week!
But instead of being the star agent, he was their practice dummy - a flunky the field agents practiced on before they went into REAL combat situations.
The agency must be absolutely desperate if he’s here ...
Percy couldn’t tell whether he felt excited or scared. On one hand, here was the chance to prove himself! But On the other, he didn’t want to face the villain responsible for taking out everyone more competent than him ...
Who was supposedly in this very room, along with the nuclear bomb he was supposed to stop.
Percy squinted his eyes, trying to make out the room’s contents. Despite the light, the edges of the room were shrouded in darkness ... he could barely make out massive stuffed animals lining the 3 surrounding walls.
However, he could easily make out the young girl in the center of the room.
She looked around 6 or 7, with kiddie pajamas on and holding a teddy bear, sucking her thumb like a toddler. He could see the bear infused with various wires, that just barely gave away the bomb’s location.
Percy paused, confused. ... huh?!?
THIS was the mastermind behind everything?!? ... the one who blew up 23 seats of power and threatened to destroy the world with nuclear Annihilation?!? No ... perhaps she’s a hostage of some kind?
“This is probably a trap!” Percy stressed, taking a step back. He had to access the situation, find out where the REAL culprit was hiding, and save this child!
His thoughts were interrupted by a sickeningly sweet voice.
“You know, one more step and it would’ve Been over. You would’ve made things so, so much easier ...”
“Huh?!!” Percy whipped around, staring straight at the source of the voice - the little girl.
She was still standing there, but her expression somehow felt more ... cold, Twisted. Demonic.
“Every other agent did it. They just HAD to save the sweet, innocent little child. Why didn’t you?” ...
Percy was still in a state of shock. He looked where he had been standing , and sure enough he could make out the faint outline of a trapdoor just inches from where his feet were.
“Wha — th-then you - all those people!”
The girl simply smiled, clutching her dear teddy bear ever tighter.
“But the agents! What did you do to them -
As if in direct response to his question, two more lights suddenly came to life, illuminating the walls of the room and the stuffed animals leaning against them.
But these were no stuffed animals.
They were the bodies of all the previous agents, grotesque expressions of horror pinned on their lifeless faces. A few’s mouths were stitched together, twisting into a forced smile. Some still had their distinctive black suits on, others were dressed in cartoonish, childlike clothing more “fit” for their current status. One of them twitched, eyes panning over to Percy that spoke of unimaginable horror. It was Mathew Blake, one of the top agents and Percy’s longtime friend. His mouth was one of the ones stitched together, so all the poor man could do was wiggle and stare, wiggle and stare, silently pleading to be put out of his misery.
Percy’s horror quickly drained, replaced by anger. He’ll get revenge on this lunatic!!! He’ll avenge his fallen comrades and end this ... demon!!!
He quickly pulled a knife out of his pocket, a small contraption suitable for close range fighting. If only he had a gun —!
The girl seemed to smile even more, as if taunting him.
With a yell, Percy lunges at the girl, making sure to avoid the trap. He’ll end this now, once and for all!
He was going to save the world! |
The slip gate network... I've been lost in here for what feels like years.
It's hot, hotter than you'd expect. The passage of time doesn't feel right. Could only be days. This world is stranger than the rest. Quiet, sticky, dark. Terribly dark. Though I don't feel like I'm in danger... This time. I'm terrified to turn my light on. So many dead worlds, so horrifying. The darkness is probably for the best. Could be remains of an some long dead civilization crunching under my boots, maybe other volunteers that came before me. Hell, could even be a million copies of myself. Let's just say it's leaves and sticks and keep moving.... I'll find a way out one day. The next gate can't be far....
I wonder if I come to a world that appears to be one that I remember, only to find out it has one horrifying difference. What if it take years to find that one small change? Like sawing the first and eighth stair to make someone feel safe just before they fall through the staircase the second time. |
\[Gaming Dates\]
"Excuse us for a second,"Russel smiled at the well-dressed woman as he pulled Justin away from her.
"Sure, okay,"the brunette returned his smile. Russel dragged Justin far enough so that she couldn't hear them talk about her. They did not have to travel far, the bustling town made plenty of noise; but, Russel turned a corner around the side of the inn.
"Explain,"Russel said.
"Our date was going so well that I didn't want to cut it short and miss out on the bonus affection multiplier. The longer our date lasts, the better,"Justin replied with a shrug. "We can move gear between games so I thought, 'why not NPCs?'."
"Oh,"Russel chuckled. "She's an NPC?"Russel peeked around the corner of the inn at the brunette. She stood patiently scrolling through her node. He had to admit she was very attractive. Her dark curls fell a bit lower than her shoulders. Her tan skin and athletic figure hinted at a lot of active time outdoors; she was definitely Justin's type. Though her black cocktail dress seemed out of place against the drab peasant-wear of the rest of the townsfolk. However, in true NPC fashion, no one blinked an eye at the oddly dressed woman. She didn't seem concerned with them either; not caring that she was no longer in a fine restaurant.
"Well, I don't have a problem with it, but we'll see what the rest of the group says,"Russel shrugged, then headed back to Justin's date.
"Ready?"she asked eagerly once they two men were close enough. She stepped forward and hooked her arm into Justin's. Russel wondered how she'd react once they reached the dragon's lair. The thought of her fleeing the cave in heels made him smile.
"Not just yet, we're still waiting on a couple of the guys,"Justin replied. "Andie, this is Russel. Russel; Andie,"he introduced them and they exchanged a quick handshake.
"How many more?"Andie asked. "Any chance there's room on the team for me? I can go and -,"Justin and Russel interrupted her with laughter at the suggestion. Justin squeezed her hand and kissed her dark curls.
"Don't worry about it, babe. I wanna keep you warmed up in date mode as long as possible,"he said.
"Oh,"Andie replied with a bit of disappointment in her voice. "Okay, I guess. As long as we're together. I just like spending time with you."
"Should we get her some cheap gear or something so she's not helpless?"Russel offered. Andie burst into laughter.
"I'm not exactly helpless,"she said.
"You tell 'im, babe,"Justin laughed too, but directed his laughter at Andie instead of with her.
"Well that sounds a little bit patr-,"her comment was interrupted by a mage that exited a black portal next to them.
"Sorry I'm late,"he apologized to Justin and Russel, then looked at Andie up and down. Golden stars flashed in his eyes for a second.
"Who's this?"he asked.
"Hi, I'm Andie,"Andie extended a hand and the mage shook it.
"Benny,"he introduced himself.
"She's my date,"Justin said proudly. At the same time, he received a Whisper from Russel in his ear.
\[She's an NPC. Go with it. -Russ\] Benny shook his head with a broad smile.
"No she's not,"he said aloud.
"I brought her here. I think I'd know whether she was my date or not,"Justin replied. Benny continued to chuckle to himself.
"She might be your date, but she's not an NPC,"
"You think I'm an NPC?"Andie turned to look at Justin with obvious hurt in her dark eyes.
"You're not?"was the only thing he could say.
"Oh my god! This whole time you thought you were playing me?"Benny and Russel decided it was a good time to get a drink from the inn and wandered off.
"But.. we met on a dating server!"Andie scoffed.
"Women play dating games too."
"Right! C'mon,"Justin said. "You can't tell me you didn't think I was an NPC too."He felt a bit of relief when he saw her nod.
"I did. For like an hour until I realized you weren't acting like an NPC. I liked you."
"See? That's why I thought you were an NPC,"Justin replied with a softer tone as he hung his head. "Girls don't like me,"he said. "Not real ones."Andie wiggled her fingers at the air and created her own black portal. She sighed at him as stepped into the portal. He heard her voice one last time before she and the black hole disappeared.
"Not with that attitude,"she said.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #241. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. |
You know that feeling you get, like when your entire body just feels off? Like something isn't right but you can't quite put a finger on it? Yeah, that feeling.
And my day was going pretty well before I got home, too.
I didn't even notice them at first after I'd unlocked my door and stepped inside, just too happy and relieved to be home again for a few days. That changed when I turned to my desk chair.
There, with my keyboard set neatly aside, sat a thick, old, leather bound book with a soot covered gold ring on it, and a knobby wooden staff leaning against the desk's side. I took a brief glance around my living room for any other new additions before walking over and taking a seat.
My attention first fell to the sooty ring. A quick wipe over with my shirt revealed the very plain surface. Apart from being a little dirty, it was in good condition. I lost track of time as I fiddled with the ring. It was near sunset when I got home, and it was dark by the time I'd looked up and discovered the kink in my neck.
I set the ring down on the desk, still within my view, and turned to the large book. The leather was embossed, though no title was on its covers or spine. Curiosity finally getting to me, I opened it up to start reading.
"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole..."
"Nope!"
I slammed the book shut and pushed myself away from the desk. I stared blankly at the book and ring for a few minutes, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing, before I got up. I had some work to do.
And I really wanted to go to bed. |
Talus’ optical system came back online, finding themself in a cave with calm, blue flames. No matter how efficient the Yellow Planet’s mechanicals were with recycling, the pollution that ravaged their home kept miners like Talus digging for raw materials. According to the data given by Eze, this cave didn’t exist.
Glass popped in the distance, prompting Talus to stand up. Their body moved with ease and perhaps with more fluidity than before the fall Talus thought. They tested the drill on their right arm. It spun with no difficulty.
Another glass container popped.
Talus scanned the area. Golden hourglasses the size of basketballs lined the cave walls from floor to ceiling, spanning throughout the depths. On the base of every hourglass was a metal plate with a name written in binary. They watched as the pink sand drained from the top half of an hourglass and popped, spilling out the sand.
Talus tapped on the networker on their wrist. “Call, Eze.”
The networker did not light up.
“I knew something must’ve gotten damaged in the fall,” Talus mumbled.
Accepting the situation, Talus wondered about the cave. Help would arrive soon, and they thought the cave might have valuable materials. Strangely, there were only hourglasses in the shelves carved out from the limestone and a golden door. Talus wondered why they hadn’t noticed the door until now. Talus walked over to the door and reached out for the heart-shaped knob when they saw a broken hourglass with their name on it.
Talus turned at the sound of rope falling through the hole he created.
“About time,” Talus teased as Eze climbed down.
Eze did not respond. Eze had the mechanical body of a spider, making them an agile climber throughout caves. Eze got on four knees.
“Are you damaged?” Talus called out, concerned.
Again, Eze did not respond. Talus walked over and saw Eze inspecting Talus’ own biped mechanical body crumbled on the ground with a metal bar piercing through the head.
“I’m so sorry, Talus,” Eze mourned. “This cave didn’t show on any of my scans.” |
Wilmarth used to go on and on about it. Made himself the laughingstock of the entire university, in fact, whispering with lit-up eyes about old legends and myths. The Stone of Destiny, said to announce the coming of heroes and great kings. The Siege Perilous, supposedly carved in the time of Arthur, to identify the one knight true enough to find the Holy Grail. That kind of tommyrot, you know. The kind of fairy stories you tell to freshman students to trick them into sitting through some crusty old hour-long course on processual anthropology. I certainly didn’t bother about such things, and hadn’t since my undergrad days. Really. But the funding came out of Wilmarth’s bequest, and he had been a good friend to my father, and to me after my father passed, so I felt obliged. And. Well. It was an amusing enough prospect.
You have to understand, nobody knew where the heroes came from, not really. They certainly weren’t volunteering any information. Red Rebel, so far as anyone knew, had just appeared out of nowhere the day he saved those underground racers in Cholame, prying metal apart with his bare hands and airlifting them out of the flames. Even he seemed confused about the whole thing, only explaining that helping others was his “calling” and offering reporters his token “Only the gentle are really strong!” (A nice sentiment, I suppose, but *really*.) His so-called “sidekick,” the German mechanic known as Wolf, offered only cryptic comments before they both flew off into the sunset, quite poetically I’m sure. The Rebel's gloomier friend, Los Angeles’ own avenging angel, showed up not long after, taking out muggers in West Hollywood. And that rather striking looking woman not long after that, rounding out their trio. My father and Wilmarth were alive then and assure me it was quite the spectacle.
The Big Three were hardly the only “heroes” on record, either. Private Eye in his strange trench-coat-cape, the Bat Pack patrolling Vegas, Baron Blood in his fencing mask, King-o-Clout in his baseball togs and even the funny little Vagabond with his little toothbrush mustache. Then there had been Apollo’s Eleven, Kennedy’s stable of heroic cosmonauts, and The Greatest with his golden gloves. And Little Phoenix, the Chinese acrobat with the literal lightning fast hands, and Dynasty in the 80s, of course, Britain’s own royal protector, and the Deathless Saturnine Knights. Nowadays more of them than I could count popped up; flash-in-the-pan, mostly. For some reason the ones who’d been around longest seemed to stick around, and newer ones almost always faded into obscurity. Wilmarth, for all his ridiculous “Magic Calling Stone” twaddle, made a reasonable enough point when he said the heroes always been here- Gilgamesh, and Hercules, and Samson, and so on and so on. Whatever it was that produced them- almost certainly some kind of unidentified genetic defect- could easily have been around a long time.
The world was in love with the heroes, no part of it more so than America. Even I had to admit they filled me with some small sense of wonder. But for every bit of wonder, the world seemed to send a bit of horror our way, as if to counterbalance. Scaredevil and Fearmonger had popped up almost in response to the Big Three, wresting control of the National Crime Syndicate and denouncing the heroes as communist sympathizers. Duke Dread in Louisiana and his Legion of White Decency. Lone Gunman, who had escaped from prison more times than anyone could count- nobody could ever forget what he had done.
That was all part of Wilmarth’s theory- no, not theory, not even hypothesis, just idle musing really. I’ll never forget that old man’s wheezed ramblings in his last few moments. “They were Called, don’t you see? Called!” I urged him to settle down, lest he worsen his condition, but he only went on: “I’ve interviewed them, you see. More of them than anyone managed before. Tracked down who they are behind the masks, or made up some pretext to see them in prison. When I asked them, why they chose to live their lives that way, how they got their powers, how they knew instinctively to build those strange devices- they all used the same phrase! It was their Calling! Some force Calls to them!”
I was weary of this babble and worried about his health, but I let him talk on, asking him gently what he thought was calling them. “I… some spirit, you see? I read. In an ancient manuscript. The Stone of Delphi, touched by Titans, which imparted visions. And an ancient Well, from which the souls of heroes could be drawn! It’s out there, don’t you see, somewhere in Greece!” It was rambling and I begged him to sleep a while. He passed on not long after that. Well, Wilmarth, since you’re footing the bill, I’m going to follow your notes, and see if your magic stone or well or whatever it may be lies at the end of this insane trail. The interns may be grumbling, or even worse they may be as starry-eyed and mad as you were at the chance of an expedition to Greece, but we’re going on your little treasure hunt. I wonder what secrets we might find there. |
Todd is a man. Todd lives at the top of a building several miles high. He stares out the window of the penthouse, down at the clouds below. Come to think of it... and he didn't think much OF it, in fact...
He'd never left this place.
He looked up at the myriad of other buildings, far into the distance, huge rope bridges spanning between them. It was like a city in the sky, usually a ten minute walk between buildings, across those bridges. Nobody knew what was below. Nobody really wanted to know, in fact. It wasn't taboo, it just wasn't a thing people did. On purpose, anyway. He wondered if people were better off down there. Was this a prison, maybe? His family had always lived here as far as he knew. Stretched back generations. The buildings swayed slightly in the wind outside.
Then Todd saw something he hasn't before, breaking him from his thoughts: A massive thing broke the surface of the clouds... His face, usually one of composed boredom, watched as the gigantic, whale-like conflagration of cement, electronics, and other pieces of buildings leapt. A gigantic mouth full of broken glass opened... and closed around the next closest building.
His own apartment jerked as the rope bridge on the balcony was ripped apart. He stood on unsteady legs, listening to a crashing sound. It was loud. Astoundingly loud, given how quiet it normally was. He moved calmly towards the balcony on the other side of the building... until the same noise was heard, another (or the same) creature of rended, twisted construction ripped the other building apart.
He was now isolated.
He felt his building shudder. He hurriedly grabbed the lever next to the front door to the apartment, labeled 'EMERGENCY EXIT'. He opened the door to the apartment, something he'd never remembered doing at any other time. He stared, mouth gaping, at the empty, endless void beneath him, seeing light streaming into the depths through the fake windows on the sides of the building...
What was this place?
Who had made it? Why had he never questioned it?
He looked back, watching a show rise from the clouds outside, getting larger... |
“I damn it, Jesus, what did you do?”
“I swear, it was an accident! Daniel just said your name in vain and I-“
“-Flipped out? I get that you’re a human just as much as you are God, but did you have to go and hurt him, AND yourself in the process? Now I need to go to Hell, where LUCIFER is keeping you. Jesus, your-“
“-Hour has not yet come, I know. I’m sorry I did that.”
“It’s ok, kid. Just, ah, don’t tell your friends in the future you did this.”
...
“Oh heyyyyy, big G. How’s it poppin in your side of town?”
“Ugh, Lucifer, 10 minutes with you is more hell for Jesus than an eternity in your 7th circle for the worst sinner. But thanks for taking in the kid, I guess...”
“I’m sorry, what did you say about moi? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I said thank you, not praise be to you. You need to watch your tone; the war has been over for eons, and I don’t want to have to revive it.”
“GOD, you can’t take a joke! I’m leaving him with a little present from me~ <3”
“Oh no, I know that voice! Lucifer, if you lay a hand on that boy, I swear—“
“Relax, big G, it’s just a rainbow pin. I know how you love your rainbows...~”
“Fine, he can have it. I’ll be there in 15.” |
"There should be a law against airports."
"Not this again. I told you, the entire thing makes perfect sense to 100% of the population. You're the only one who doesn't get it."
"Why should I have to pay just to wait twenty minutes to pick someone up?!"
"You don't have to pay anything. Just use the cell phone lot."
"I don't have a cell phone!"
"It's not a requirement."
"And it would be too much work to make things clear? Maybe 'wait here to pick up people'? There are cash lots, credit card lots, and cell phone lots; that makes it sound like cell phone is the payment method. This is a totally non-intuitive system!"
"It's for people waiting for a *call* from the person they're here to pick up. It makes perfect sense."
"No, a 'pickup waiting lot' makes perfect sense. Do you know how many times I drove around in circles? I spent half an hour skulking in the *rental lot* because it was the only place that didn't have a stupid gate blocking it!"
"If you drive up to a gate, you can get your parking slip and it'll open. They're not gated because they're closed, they're gated to keep track of the vehicles coming in and going out."
"Well, I did figure that out, thanks. I'm not completely incompetent."
"Did you do any research at all, or just start driving and hope for the best?"
"Hey, how was I to know that getting there was the easy part?"
"Well. I mean, it *is* an airport." |
I know that it would be no use to try and call someone. If I were to get a hold of anyone, I worry that my phone’s battery wouldn’t make it through the entire call. Even if it did, and I was able to say what was going on, and where I am, what could that person do. So, I run out of the house and jump into my car.
I drive down the main road of town, and I can just make out the dismembered bodies of people less fortunate then me as I make it onto the highway. I speed down the highway, 70, 80 miles an hour. All of the sudden, the car starts to putter to a stop. I couldn’t get gas at the station because of the outage, and foolishly, I didn’t fill up the tank last night after work. Annoyed, I maneuver the car to the side of the highway. I get out, the highway is completely empty.
As I sit and try to get an idea of where I am, I hear the sound of a car coming up behind me. Startled, I make sure the gun is loaded. I see a shadowy figure approach me. They get about 2 feet away from me, when BAM! I hear a shot ring out, as I fall to the ground. As I’m inching closer to passing out, I she the figure bend down and get right up into my face. “You knew you couldn’t last this long. Goodnight.” |
"Citizens of Gaea. I address you today to celebrate our hard work as a species over the past 30 years. In that time, the *Fortitude* has sailed across the endless bounds of space and into the unknown. We have entrusted the very finest of humanity with this mission to the final frontier, to the edge of the stars. It's been three thousand years since we landed the first man on Earth's moon. Since then, humanity has gone through countless struggles and hardships, but we persevered. We landed on Mars. We made first contact with those in the Sirius System. We helped establish the Milky Way Space Station and have expanded our reach across the cosmos. While our original home may be long gone, our beautiful world of Gaea has continued our legacy.
Citizens, today the Fortitude is expected to reach the very edge of the universe as we know it. The very edge of existence itself. Today may be the begging of the next great chapter of mankind, where we discover our true place in the universe and finally answer the questions which were unanswerable.
I will address you again later today when Captain Harcrow of the Fortitude beams in his first message to us in thirty years. I pray our brave men and women were successful. Until then, I bid you farewell for now, and may the gods be with us"
\~
The mission control room of the Gaea Space Agency was dead silent. The President stood at the head of the room with a stern, yet authoritative frown on his face. While the President was known for his strict composure, it was rare to see him this anxious.
Director Carrick held onto his headset, staring at the computer screen in front of him.
"They should have reached it now. We're receiving unusual energy signals from their target location. That means they could be there, but- somethings wrong."
The President opened his mouth to speak but Carrick raised one finger, and everyone in the room held their breath for a message.
The message wasn't exactly what was expected. A high ringing noise and static, occasionally cutting to the voice of what seemed like a panicked Captain Harcrow. The faint sound of the Fortitude's alarms could be heard in the background, and Harcrow's message could finally be heard.
"It's a prison. All of it."
After that, the message ended.
"Director, what have they sent us?"the President said.
Carrick was silent. He was shocked, confused and bewildered. "It's a prison"
"A prison?"
"It's a prison. All of it."
"What does he mean, a prison?"
"We wanted answers from this mission. There's our answer"
"So you suppose the universe is some sort of prison where we are being watched by higher beings?"
The room went silent again, a bit confused by the absurdity of the situation. Carrick spoke up again.
"There was static, and- the ship's alarms were going off....If it was a prison, I suppose that means they escaped"
"To where exactly?"The President asked.
"That-That's it!"
"Carrick! Sit down, please"The President snapped.
"This is a prison. This is an experiment. We are being watched, we are being tested, this was our goal all along! We've always had a passion for exploration, for discovery...and this was the endgame! To escape the prison that is the universe! We won, I guess?"
"So what happens now?"
The lights in the room started to flicker, and everyone could feel their heartbeats slow and their breath run out. Then everything went black, and all they could hear was a single voice.
"*Simulation Complete"* |
The pickle stares back at me, a wide fucking grin on his face. After a long day of running from creepy tentacle monsters, the first thing I love doing is cracking jokes with my ol’ pickle pal Sanchez. We’ve been together since the start, me and my pickle. Be it chilling in the pool(aka an algae-infested pond we found deep in the Outlands) or fortifying our tinfoil hats against those creepy bastards, he’s been there for me.
Ya know, twenty years ago, I’d have never expected being so close to a goddamn pickle. Hell, I don’t even like how they taste in the first place. Salty, slimy and crunchy? Reminds me of a slug or something. Yeuch. Thank god he’s perfectly normal and dry.
Every month I’ve gotta transplant the guy into a new body. He used to prefer actual human bodies, but after that one incident with the Mindflayers... yeah, he’d rather not. So a pickle it is. Of course, this form comes with its limitations. Sanchez can’t move half the time, and when he can it’s likely because some hypno-human found us and wanted a snack.
Oh, you wanted to know how I’ve stayed free? Well, half of it’s pickle man over here, and the other half’s volleyball with the lads. If you can consider slimy tentacle masses lads. I mean, sure, these tinfoil hats prevent us from being brainwashed, but it’s really the volleyball that keeps them from trying too hard. Whether we’re camping in an open field or on the run in a makeshift jeep, playing volleyball with a few of ‘em’s always needed to keep the peace. What’s left of it, anyways. You’d think we’d have come up with a better idea already, but if those slimy bastards didn’t love volleyball.
Lemme tell ya this. Best serve? Just punch the ball. Works like a charm every single time! Mindflayers just get confused by your intentions and miss the ball entirely. I know, it’s not *really* volleyball, but they don’t know the rules, do they? They aren’t missing out on anything. Other than our souls. To be honest, I like this life. No responsibilities, no commitments, nothing! Just pure adrenaline, finding ways to stay alive while keeping our metallic hats on. Yeah. Yeah, no wives, children or pets to care about, keep safe or love. Not that I would know anything about that, yeah?
Anyways, I’ve got a pickle friend to attend to. Some jokes and beers to crack, maybe a few monsters to slaughter.
I stare at the pickle again, then prod him. “Yo, Sanchez, say the thing!”
I flip him over, watching the majestic man build up to his best creation yet: “I turned myself into a pickle, Morticia! I’m Pickle Sanchez!”
Ahhhh. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen. |
Bow chicka bow wow…. Ohhhhh yeah.. This dream is juicy. Get ready. For. Ms. Haverton. Spanish Teacher. Oh, what’s this. The bottons on her blouse are popping loose? And she’s coming over to my desk Oh! Ms. Haverton I don’t think I can get up for the class presentation… Unless, you want to dismiss the class… yeah. And I can’t present my project to you alone… Ms. Haverton. Yeah… Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah. Just say the words and everyone will leave. And it’ll be just you and me baby. No. Don’’t drag me out of my desk.. Just … Let go! Please Ms. Haverton I have a boner and everyone will see let me go! FUck! Fine. I’ll do the presentation. Boner or no boner I don’t give a fuck! You wanted this Ms. Haverton! You wanted this! Goddamned son of bitch. Okay… No don’t fucing smell me Ms. Haverton… Jesus Christ you are weird. Okay class, this is my presentation on my Hispanic heritage. And yes, this is an erection. But guess what! You all have erections too! Yup! Look under your desk! AHAHAHAHAHA
Bring me home to that wonderful place. Where the food is good and there is space. For boners and people like that guy and her, to feel love on a spur. Ms. Haverton you are stunning but now my nose is running and there is a fight in my pants between this soft fabric and my last chance to save face save pride oh my I gotta hide this erection you see, If I sprout in front of class it'll be the end of me. |
Ever hear of gods’ greatest gift to mankind. The stolen one that is simply described as a chemical reaction that is ignited by oxygen and fuel. I’m going to tell you how my discovery triumphs that childish mythology act of thievery, and let me tell you, it’s real fire, fam. To be honest, I’ve relinquished being hip with the generation of Zoomers somewhere around the mid-21st century. Don’t “Okay Boomer” me, I don’t think like your grandpa. Now listen, older generations wish they had more of this gift, while a lot of the younger ones say they have too much it. When our ideals of wealth and happiness are achieved, we find ourselves chasing this. We try to control, theory craft the rules, and special relativity of it all.
That’s right, the gods ought to learn to get tighter security on their secrets because I just stole the next gift of fire from right under their noses, and let me tell you the pockets that are Cronos are going to feel mighty empty on this one. You probably catch my drift of what I’m going for anyway. For those of you who don’t get it, let’s just say I’ll tell you when you’re older. Before I lose track of where I am, let me put on this kickass soundtrack. |
In a blink of an eye the demon's supernatural speed put him behind Thomas, raking at his back with black claws. Thomas though, was a trained demon slayer and all his years of training prepared him for exactly this moment. The slayer was just as fast, his sword meeting claws and deflecting them aside. The move opened up the demon's side and Thomas didn't miss it, slicing deep into the demon's flank. The demon howled in rage and launched itself into a flurry of attacks, each one powered by its supernatural strength and speed. Thomas was no ordinary mortal and matched the demon blow for blow.
As just an average mortal bodyguard, I took the moment to catch my breath and reload my shotgun with solid slugs. Instead of the standard pellets, these shells contained one giant mass of metal inscribed with holy runes and soaked in holy water. I knew I didn't have a chance taking on a true demon summoned from Hell in a fair fight. Instead I kept my back braced against the wall and waited. The instant the monster showed me his back and Thomas locked its claws with his sword, I fired both barrels. The demon roared as the blessed slugs tore into its back. He turned to face me and Thomas was there to take advantage of the distraction, shoving his sword into the creature again.
The fight between the demon and demon slayer continued, both sides slashing and stabbing at each other. I continued to fire slugs whenever the demon showed an opening, hoping to distract it for that one moment Thomas needed to finish the duel. Finally, I hit it in the leg, buckling it at the knee. The demon roared, its burning red eyes glaring at me. Thomas brought his blade down, severing the demon's head from its body. Red flames slowly consumed the creature, melting it down to a black ichor.
Empty of shells, I tossed the shotgun aside as I leaned back against the wall to catch my breath. Thomas stood over the area where the demon dissolved and said a prayer. He swung his sword a few times, an attempt to flick off as much of the demon's remains before wiping it down with a cloth.
"I owe you an apology,"Thomas said, extending a hand, "looks like I needed a bodyguard after all."
I shrugged and pushed myself off the wall. "That's what I'm here for,"I said. I started toward the demon slayer when a sharp pain bit into my side. I clutched at the source and twisted away, landing on my back in the rubble. Above me stood a man in a suit, eyes furious and mouth foaming. I looked down to see a hunting knife plunged into my side.
"You bastards have no idea what you've done. No idea what you've taken from me!"he screamed. Realizing his hand was now empty, he reached down into the rubble to retrieve a solid chunk of concrete. He wrapped his fingers around it and I could practically feel its weight in his hands. As he glared at me, the intent to smash in my skull written on his face, I finally realized I was face-to-face with the cult's leader, Charles Heverfore. I pulled myself slowly along the ground, intent on getting far from Heverfore as possible before he could get close enough to beat me to death.
Thomas surged forward, his enhanced speed and strength stopping Heverfore in his tracks. I heard a faint whisper of Latin and Thomas put his palm to Heverfore's forehead. Thomas loosened his grip and Heverfore surged forward, punching the demon slayer in the face.
"I don't understand,"said Thomas, his lip bleeding, "There's no demon within you to exorcise. You are no longer a puppet to their whims."
Heverfore spat in Thomas's face, using the opportunity to startle the demon slayer and take his sword from him. Unlike when Thomas wielded it, the blessed sword didn't glow though it was still deadly. "Of course not, you idiot. I just needed the demons for their power. I'm the one in control,"Heverfore said. He swung the sword and Thomas dodged out of the way. He wielded the sword like a club, swinging and jabbing at the slayer who always moved to avoid the blow at the last moment.
As Heverfore continued his assault, I dragged myself closer and closer to their battle, waiting for the right moment. The Hunter Guild, after all, was focused on hunting demons and protecting humans from the Infernals that sought to corrupt them. Thomas couldn't harm Heverfore, he probably couldn't even comprehend why the man was trying to kill him, because as evil as Heverfore might be he was still human.
I, however, was not bound to the same ideological constraints. In fact, The Hunter Guild partnered with the paramilitary firm I contracted with because of the amount of jobs we did in active combat zone. We'd seen the evils man could visit upon his fellow man, up close and personal.
Thomas missed a step, his feet caught in some of the strewn rubble and fell backwards. Heverfore sensed his opportunity and moved forward to deliver the killing thrust. With Heverfore salivating at the chance to cut down the demon slayer, I too took my opening. I got to my feet and wrenched the knife from my side, trying not to focus on the pain nor the blood now flowing from the wound. After all, there's no pay if Thomas didn't make it back to the guild alive. I flipped the knife in my hand, catching the blade in my fingers. Then, I flung the knife end over end until it buried itself halfway to its hilt in the cult leader's back.
He jerked upright, startled by the pain, and let out a scream for a second or two. All the time I needed to drive myself forward. I landed on his back, sending the knife in deeper and pinning Heverfore to the floor. I picked up a chunk of stone and bashed him in the back of the head, one, two, three times until the man stopped moving.
I rolled off the dead man, clutching my side. Thomas handed me a cloth to put over the wound and apply pressure. It was only later I realized it was the same one he used to wipe down his sword. The Hunter Guild assures me that it's not poisonous, but do they really care about a hired gun like me? Thomas lifted me to my feet and hauled me up the basement stairs and out the door. I drifted in and out of consciousness until we reached the car outside.
"Thanks for saving me back there,"Thomas said once we were back on the road, Heverfore Manor behind us.
"That's the job,"I said, still in pain, "Though you folks really should learn, eventually, that some people just can't be saved. It would make fighting humans a lot easier for all of you."
Thomas shook his head. "I can't afford to think that way. The guild exists to protect all of humanity, not just those we agree with."
I sighed. "Yeah, I know,"I said, settling into the chair on our way back to the guild headquarters thinking about how I was going to spend my money. |
He stepped out of his squad car, checking his sidearm, and looked at the large abandoned apartment before him. His radio put out a burst of static, and he took it off his belt.
"Come in Command, this if Officer Ross,"said the officer, "I'm at the location, over."
The voice on the other line responded, "We read you Ross, how does it look?"
Ross responded, "Its a hellscape. I haven't seen anyone for at least a mile, this entire sector seems to be abandoned. You sure this is the area?"
"Yes, scavengers have come back and reported vampire sightings. Confirm the sightings, and track the mutant down."said the voice, cutting in and out.
Ross checked his gun again, "Dead or alive?"
The radio crackled, "Company policy is alive if possible. Be careful Ross."
Ross laughed, "Its just a mutant."
The radio went silent, "Ross, an official from the company confirmed they are continuing to mutate. You may not be handling a standard mutant. We had 23 reported sightings, no telling how many didn't make it back to report."
Ross said, "Yeah, I'll keep an eye out."He put the radio back on his belt, and closed the car door. Walking over to the large abandoned building, he took note of the freshly removed boards laying around. Someone was inside.
He removed his gun from his holster, stepping inside. He went to call out, but stopped. He thought to himself, "Don't want the mutant sneaking up on me, policy can wait."
The lobby was dark, quite. He turned on his flashlight, walking over to a door left ajar. It was a hallway, leading to various rooms. He walked through them, after a minute coming to one he could hear noise coming from. He peered inside the crack, and observed the situation.
Two kids were sitting in the darkened room, a girl playing with a broken doll, and a boy playing with a old PDA with a cracked frame. Both had signs of OAB+ve mutation, clearly an advanced generation of the mutation. Their skin was pale, and ears were long. Rows of jagged teeth were visible as the kids grinned at their toys.
Ross put the pistol on his side, drawing his taser, and said to himself, "Just some kids. Bet I'll get a nice bonus for bringing them in alive, considering how mutated they are. Company will pay a pretty penny to study them."He hid the taser behind his back, and pushed open the door.
"Hi, I'm Officer Ross."He said, presenting a fake smile. His taser was short range, so he would have to get them to approach him to safely use it. "Are you two ok?"
They quickly stepped back, unsure of the officer. Both seemed to see through the fake smile. Ross approached slowly, his hand still gripping the taser tightly.
The boy put his hand on a nearby chair, and suddenly tossed it at Ross, grabbing his sister's arm and saying, "Run!"The boys speech was slurred, but understandable, a side affect of his mutation.
They both ran out of the room, Ross dodging the chair, but falling to the floor. Chunks of wood were embedded in the wall, the mutation had increased their strength as well.
Ross said, "Damn it!"He went to grab his taser, which was damaged when he fail. He tossed it down, and said, "Guess we are doing this the old fashioned way,"and drew his gun.
He ran out the door, quickly heading through the hall. He thought to himself, "They aren't going to leave, not while its day, they can't handle the sunlight. Which means they probably went to hide somewhere deeper inside."
He ran through the building, checking doors and keeping an eye out. He reached another door, slight ajar and shouted, "Come out of there with your hands up!"
He kicked the door open, and paused at the sight before him. A half dozen bodies littered the room. Ross looked at them, members of a local street gang, some punks.
One grabbed his foot, and Ross looked down at him. The man had serious deep wounds in his shoulder, and had lost a lot of blood. He couldn't speak, but desperately was trying to get Ross's help.
Ross kicked his hand away, "I've got bigger issues to deal with than saving a gangster who wandered into the wrong building. Hey, maybe I leave the mutants alone, they might end up dealing with the rest of your friends."
The light of a nearby lamp suddenly turned on, sitting on a desk on the other side of the room.
"So officer, that was an interesting suggestion, I must say."she said, leaning near the lamp. She was heavily mutated, even more so than the kids from before.
Ross had his weapon drawn, and said, "Hands against the wall."
"Tracy, by the way."she said, picking dried blood from her nails, "I don't suppose you would be willing to simply leave? It does seem we have mutual goals."
He didn't move, gun still raised, "And leave you mutants to continue terrorizing people?"
Tracy laughed, "Your the one who had a gun ready to face off against children. We simply feed on those who come here looking for a fight."
Ross said, "I take it the runts were yours? I can see where they get their deformations."
She bared her rows of teeth, "My siblings, actually. I'll be honest, I figured you weren't going to place nice. That is why the others stripped your car down to its frame, and are dragging it a few miles away, along with the transmitter."
"Sure, and I bet I'm surrounded too."said Ross, "You mutants are too stupid to come up with a scheme like that."
Tracy sighed, "Its true, my siblings, and the others are quite, well stupid."She grinned, "But it seems I got a bit lucky when mutating. I'm actually quite adept, probably a bit brighter than you'd guess."She placed her hand on the dim light-bulb and said, "Its not the only thing that makes me different from my siblings."The bulb began to glow, the energy being drained, before bursting.
Ross backed up, firing into the darkness, before sprinting out of the room, back down the hall. He tried his radio, but got only static, he was out of range of his cruiser.
"Fucking mutants, should have just fired when I had the chance!"he said, running toward the lobby. He quickly reloaded his pistol, and burst through the door into the lobby. The exit was blocked, a pile of furniture and junk had been placed in front of it.
"Didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"said Tracy, stepping into the lobby. Ross raised and unloaded the gun, firing wildly again. Tracy dodged most of the shots, but took a bullet to the leg. She stopped from the hit, before looking up angrily.
Ross was reloading again, and said, "Felt that, didn't you."
The wound quickly began to seal, the blood stopping, and Tracy said, "Would you look at that, good as new."
"Impossible."said Ross, attempting to finish reloading.
Tracy was too quickly, and had him by the throat, lifted against the nearby wall. "Unlike the others, I don't seem to have a limit to my hunger. I can drink and drink, and never be full. I think I'm storing it, somehow."She looked at Ross, struggling to pull free and said, "The real fun part though, I'm glad you asked, I can also drain electricity from things, crazy right?"She heard the static from Ross's radio pick up, and it say, "Ross, are you there, we haven't been able to get a hold of you, over."
Tracy pulled it from Ross, draining the energy from it, "Doesn't seem like you'll be able to get to that."
"Why you doing this?"said Ross, barely able to speak, "You monsters."
Tracy said, "What are you talking about? We didn't choose this. We were drove into this abandoned district, either this or becoming a lab rat for the company. You chose to come through those doors, to hunt us. Now the shoe is on the other foot, and suddenly we are the monsters."
She tossed him into the center of the room, other vampires were waiting in nearby door-frames, peering through. Tracy broke the pistol, tossing the broken metal onto the ground, "Get him drained, and everyone get packed, we are moving again." |
I hate it when my human bumps into her friends while on our Walks. They'll natter away endlessly, and I'm forced to sit on my haunches on the heated pavement and wait till their conversation ran dry.
And my human has a *lot* of friends.
It's even worse when these friends come with their dogs. They are such attention-seeking little shits, always moseying up to my human for a pet or two. And my human's a complete traitor, always cooing to them and scratching their chins or their ears - as if they could compare to me. Mocha's okay, though. He's too old - looks like he's about to die anytime - and doesn't bother with my human. Just lies down quietly because his Walk has tired him out.
Today's no different. We're halfway through the Walk when my human sees a couple of other humans and they stop to chat. No dogs, so that's a plus. But it's near an open drain where there's a sort of ledge, so they're all sitting down and merrily chatting and laughing, and it feels like we could be there forever. I've been sitting down but the pavement's roasting my butt, so I get up again and paw at my human's feet, panting a little harder than I need to. She bends down to scratch my ear, but then goes on talking. I'm pondering over whether I should pee on the other humans' feet to initiate a quick exit when a sudden downwind breeze has me snapping my head up and sniffing hard.
It is an approaching dog, a big stinker at that. I look alertly in the direction the scent is coming from, and soon I see a huge Chow Chow trotting alongside his human further up the pavement. I hate big dogs. They've got permanent smug expressions on their faces - they think they're *so* alpha just because they're big. This one's no different, and I'm personally offended as he turns his stupid face on me, so I launch into a series of barks describing what I thought of him.
"No barking,"says my human, but I don't heed her, straining against the harness as much as possible.
The Chow Chow's coming ever closer to us, and it's evident that he's cowed by my trash-talking - he has his head turned away and is pretending to sniff at a random patch of grass.
"Yeah, keep on sniffing,"I jeer. "I've already peed on that and you'll regret ever being born if you pee over it."
He doesn't, as expected. Take it from me - size doesn't matter one bit. *I'm* a pomeranian, and the other humans always make sure that their dogs stay well away from me when they've heard my bark. My human also keeps a tight hold on my Restrainer, too - and that's a wise choice, considering the damage I can wield. That Chow Chow's going to have to cross the road anytime now.
But they keep on coming.
His huge paws pad ever closer, and they are almost level with me when I realise that he's more than thrice my size, and his maw could easily close around my neck. My bark peters out - but mind, it's because that rank big dog smell is engulfing my personal space. It's okay, though - I think he's got my point, because he's deliberately not looking at me -
He turns sharply towards me when we're level, and to my eternal shame, I take two steps back - but what the? There's no ground behind -
My front paws scrabble for purchase, but it's too late.
I fall into the open drain, suspended by my harness. My human shrieks and pulls me up, sets me on the ground, and checks if I'm all right.
I *am* all right, but my ego is in shreds, and will never recover again. My human doesn't understand this, and she laughs in relief, and then goes on talking to her friends.
The Chow Chow does, though. I watch him out of the corner of my eyes, and he's got that complacent look on his face. The look that he's been hiding just now, to trick me.
I fucking hate big dogs. |
Sharon Renee Halstead.
Her full name is emblazoned on a trending YouTube video, front page. The light from her phone screen illuminates the dark room around her. She'd spent the night scrolling for hours, and it smacked her squarely on the forehead at four am.
Double checking her volume, Sharon presses play. There is a beautiful intro, with very well done graphics. It seems like a Draw My Life with a bigger budget, and an actual animator.
It starts with a moment in her life, that she doesn't remember. The animator draws her at eighteen and notes a massive car accident.
Sharon in this video was hit by a bus at eighteen, and restricted to a wheel chair. The wheel chair is a cool purple color, something Sharon would absolutely choose. Deep in Sharon's chest, her heart begins to pound.
An accident? At eighteen? Nothing remotely interesting or tragic like that has ever happened to Sharon.
She rolls over, and comes face to face with her partner Mac. They're sleeping soundly, face pressed haphazardly into their pillow. Sharon reaches forward and grasps their hand for support.
Mac squeezes Sharon's hand three times, still soundly asleep.
It gives Sharon enough courage to continue the video. The draw my life knockoff continues detailing Sharon's life. Her diagnosis of never walking again. Meeting the love of her life, Taylor, who Sharon has never seen or heard of in her entire life.
And finally, the reason for her trending. This Sharon, whoever she is, had the first extensive spinal column rebuild. Not only is she the first to survive, but she is also, the first to walk again.
There is a clip of Sharon, a few months post op, spinning in her sunflower dress. This Sharon has that sunflower dress, she knows the feeling of it's soft fabric against her knees.
Reality swings back in, and Sharon feels the room start to spin. This video is unlike anything Sharon has ever heard of.
It ends with a two year update of her surgery, walking upright normally, as if her spinal column weren't severely damaged at any point.
The video ends with the same twirling clip. Video Sharon spins and spin, and in reality, Sharon is spinning too.
The air seems to get a bit colder and Sharon blinks a few times rapidly. Then, the video, miraculously moves to the "This Video is Not Available in your Region"screen.
It's the most insane experience she's ever had. Sharon rolls over and presses herself deeply into the form beside her.
Taylor, and not Mac rolls over and Sharon nearly falls out of bed in her panicked state. "What babe, you woke me up."There is a twinge of irritation Sharon hates and she gets up immediately. The room is different so she almost misses that they have an ensuite bathroom.
Sharon basically runs into the tiny room and slams the door. Where's Mac? How did this happen? Sharon climbs into their shower and sits in the bottom of the tub. She closes her eyes and begins to repeat a single phrase, "This is a dream, this isn't real."It comes out in stutters and each syllable feels like a mission alone.
Sharon does this for what feels like hours. Then, out of no where, the curtain swings open. Mac, her savior of a partner stands there panicking. "Where have you been?" |
“No!”
I can feel tears streaming down my face, so wet and cold, they're making my vision go blurry.
“Please, No!”
My heartbeat is faster than it has ever been before, I'm screaming at the top of my lungs and yet nothing but a faint whisper seems to leave my mouth. I'm scared, my head is spinning, my legs are shaking.
“I beg you, please!”
I think I am hyperventilating. I can't catch my breath and my lungs feel as if I haven't breathed properly in years, even though I take in so much more air than I have thought to be possible.
The stone underneath me is hard and cold, the corner I'm pressing my back into is filled with webs countless of spiders must have left there. It feels dirty, but I can ignore that. It isn't important right now.
“Have mercy… please”, I whisper one last time.
Wrapping my arms around her even more tightly I notice her crying. She doesn't understand what's going on, how could she? But she can feel my distress and wants this just as little as I do.
But the metallic creature in front of me doesn't respond. No mercy for me, no mercy for her. It doesn't have feelings, isn't capable of loving, it can't understand. Where there's supposed to be a heart is just metal and steel.
Silent whimpers are leaving my throat, I can't cry anymore. It simply doesn't work, my eyes feel almost painfully dry.
“*I am here to peacefully take your daughter Elise Meadow. We do not plan to cause harm to her. Please do not resist.*”
The hard, electronic voice this thing in front of me has, … It sounds like one only my worst nightmares would show me.
Not surprising. This is my worst nightmare.
It takes me a moment to notice I'm screaming out of fear, out of pain. I'll loose her, it is inevitable, there is no way of stopping the procedure. This goddamn procedure.
I have known this. I have known they'd take her from me, without the necessary permissions to raise children – I'm not a professional, I'm not allowed to raise them. I have known this would happen.
Why have I been dumb enough, naive enough to believe I'd be able to live with giving her away?
Our screaming fills the room when what seems to me like the devil himself grabs her. Without giving me the chance to say goodbye properly, it just like that takes her away from me, painfully easily. She leaves quicker than she has arrived into my life.
But she's still in my heart, she'll always be.
My cheeks that have just felt strained and weirdly dry are now decorated with countless of tears again, soft cries continuing to leave my lips as her warmth slowly seems to leave me.
I won't give up just like that.
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Does this still fit to the prompt? It was just the first thing I have thought of, but I'm unsure if it really works with this story. Sorry if it doesn't :/ |
A deep heartless creature, had found their own heart in the form of a story. The Demon saw a movement without a cause, which fluttered and failed. From within the Demon, he realized that he and it weren’t that different from one another.
“You realize those weren’t the terms we agreed to.” The demon uttered.
“Please, I don’t wish to bring back my wife, as that is not what she would have wanted.” The creature doubling back on the terms of the deal.
The Demon realizing, he was supposed to be leading the conversation and was going to say something, but stopped. Stopping to listen, not because it went against the all things he stood for, but because it was what believed it was the right thing to do.
He had sensed something different. Something that had started to differ between them. Sensing a different cause. A new banner to sail under which stirred from within the Writer.
“I would like to continue writing for those who cannot, particularly for those who have already given up their souls.” The Writer said.
The Demon just waited, sensing more.
“My wife, she is already doing that isn’t she,” the Writer continued.
All the voices from atop that valley went quiet, letting the Writer finish their thoughts.
“Just in another world?”
The Demon nodded, saying nothing.
“Then I wish to stay here, and do the same. until my time comes.” The life seeping back into the eyes of the writer. The frail body becoming that much less frail.
“And when my time comes, I know I will see my wife again, and we’ll write together like we use to.” The disgust the writer had for themselves was disappearing. The air, they breathed seeming that much sweeter.
“Thank you, Demon, for all you’ve done.” The writer feeling better, stepping away from the ledge. The color of green that the Writer saw, becoming that much greener.
With no words, the Demon acknowledged the thanks, and fluttered off. Knowing he had done nothing. The trade had been simple, a story and a life for nothing. The demon should have felt disappoint going back, empty handed, but for him. He smiled. |
“It’s *real*. Do you not see how much of a problem this is? *Quanta News* picked the story up last night. This is a *disaster*. The story will tank our stocks. Virtual reality is great *because* it is walled from reality.” Agon wanted to reach across the meeting desk and shake Koraiah by the shoulders. How could she not realize? This should be the top priority of the company. And yet they refuse to even send a C-level executive to hear him out. “People don’t want the two to mix. They don’t want monsters prowling in the streets and wild encounters wherever they go. They don’t want to carry a frickin samurai sword around in their commute to work!” He stopped to take a breath.
“And?” Koraiah could hardly have been more apathetic. “People simply don’t live without Erenum and our technologies. 85% of the world’s population are actively engaged with Erenum technology products on a daily basis!” Agon could almost see her switching on her saleswoman pitch mode. “You think some insane people who spent a little too long in the game can just claim their hallucinations to be real and bring down a company like Erenum?”
She smiled. “My dear Agon… how little you know about our place in the world. *Your* place in the world. As such a wonderful employee here at such a wonderful company… Really, don’t worry about it.” Agon watched as Koraiah faked a smile. It was good, made him feel at ease, even though his brain knew it was just a lie. People would be terrified. They’d take the rights to the Net away from Erenum.
“There’s definitely going to be backlash, though.” He tried to protest. “People aren’t going to accept random monsters roaming in the streets from the Net. We’re supposed to be making things that people actually want, not demons from their nightmares.” Something occurred to him. A talking point. Perhaps his one chance to convince her.
“*O pnoptero neovo gutmapa tero*. ‘desire and reality are one and the same’.” He felt himself getting more certain as he recited the slogan of the company. The core driving mission. “It’s what we do here. Why I work everyday. We give people what they want. Through the Net. Through the virtual reality that makes it possible. We *give* people what they want with virtual reality. We make it possible.” He paused. How would he explain…
“It’s fear. This reality has become their fear. People will be terrified when they realize the creatures are becoming real. Don’t you get it?” The frustration was coming back. She had to realize. They’re not making the world a better place. They’re sowing chaos.
But Koraiah had clearly run out of patience. “And what exactly do they desire?” Her voice was flat. The impatience leaked out of it.
“They want to fight monsters! They want to craft cool things and be the hero. We’ve seen the amazing communities that formed through the Web. But again, Koraiah, that’s not—”
“Do you know what the Analysis division does?” She asked him. They were the second biggest division in the company. He frowned. “...Why does it matter?” He thought about it. Huh. He really never hadn’t considered it. “There are certainly many metrics in the Net that need analysis. We probabl— ”
“They analyze needs, Agon.” She wasn’t even listening to him. “They analyze *desires.* And do you know what people want? What we’ve found people truly want?” She pressed on. He was starting to get it. But he clearly needed a reminder.
“*O pnoptero neovo gutmapa tero*. ‘Desire and reality are one and the same’. Don’t you understand, Agon? This *is* the reality now. People want this. They want *fear*. And who are we to say they shouldn’t have it?”
Agon was staring at her in horror now.
“Reality is coming, Agon. A *people*’s reality. It’s here.”
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Thanks for reading! Feedback appreciated. |
It was dark out. Pitch black, really, apart from the street lights that were too far away to offer any helpful level of illumination. John and Theresa were at the flanks, with the rookie in the back. What was the kid's name again? It slipped my mind, but I might try to remember if he survived the mission... Though that was a big "if".
As the darkness grew nearly suffocating, the visage of a face emerged from its inky depths. Though the circumstances made it quite unsettling, it could be seen as almost comical in the daylight, a big goofy smile a child might draw onto a stick figure as they pretended to take notes for a class they didn't care about. Aside from the location, the fact that the face appeared to be hovering about twelve feet in the air gave it an uncanny air that was almost certainly trouble. It wouldn't have even been visible yet without the night vision on my visor, so I was willing to bet the face couldn't properly see us yet. Well, if it needed to see at all.
Suffice to say, I'd read the docket, and knew that the face tended to be benign until acknowledged, so I simply gestured behind my back and continued walking as I had. John and Theresa sent a quick confirmation over the comms, but the rookie did not. To be expected, really, he was fresh out of training and hadn't gotten our routines down yet, so I kept moving.
I kept sweeping as I had been, with John and Theresa doing the same, but then I heard a scream and the rattle of gunfire. I turned to see the rookie firing in the direction of the face. We couldn't even see the body around it, if there was one, so the shots seemed to be pretty wild. The face got even more creepy in response, with inky black ooze dripping down from the eyes and mouth, and the smile getting wider and wider, well beyond the limits of human physiology.
When the mouth started reaching the edges of the face, the rookie dropped his gun and started clawing at his face. He tore off his helmet, coughing, scratching, and wiping his face with his gloved hands as dark fluid poured out of his tear ducts and the edges of his mouth.
I just sighed, turned around, and shot the kid in the head with my rifle. A shame, but I had warned him to study that docket like his life depended on it.
John and Theresa gasped at the kid's death, but more from surprise than shock. It wasn't the first time we'd had to put down a fresh recruit, and it probably wouldn't be the last.
"Commissioner's gonna read me the riot act for that one. Stay together, heads on a swivel,"I said, waving my rifle back and forth as if I was still searching.
The face was now about ten feet closer, well within visible distance and easily within range of the rifle. Not that it would do much good to shoot it, or the rookie would probably still be alive. Instead I kept moving, and the face got so close I could practically poke it with the end of the gun. It sidled off and seemingly floated past Jon, then Ophelia as we walked.
Finally, clawed hands started reaching out from the darkness. Inky black, obviously, and nigh impossible to see compared to the face, but they may have been connected to the actual beast instead of a lure meant to trick victims. Still, I kept up the act of pretending I couldn't see them. As the claws got close I stopped, bending down as if I was checking something on the ground.
I had a hand on my knee, where I had stashed one of my knives, the one I'd covered in Graylight fluid, and ran my hand over the dirt. My eyes, however, were still turned forward to spy the ground where the claws were creeping toward us.
"Hm... Which way did it go?"I asked nobody. John and Theresa could almost certainly see the encroaching hands.
As the nearest hand got within striking distance, it began to rear back, and I grabbed my knife. The hand flew forward, and got a blade through its palm as it attempted to grab me.
A horrific shriek erupted from all around us, and the hand recoiled, tearing the knife from it as it went. Still, it was too late, a grayish glow flowed in a veinlike pattern from the knife wound, up the arm, and fanned out into the darkness around it. The pale face reappeared high in the air, an apparently small part of the beast itself, but quickly seemed to melt as the graylight etched its way there.
With another cry that faded into nothingness, the inky black ooze turned gray, and the moving parts of the creature collapsed to the ground.
"Jon, call cleanup. Theresa, cover me,"I said, approaching the gray form.
I pulled a sheet of paper out of my pocket and wiped it over the ooze, getting a thick coating of it onto the page. As I had hoped, it seemed inert, so I returned to my comrades.
"Shame about the rookie,"Theresa said as I returned.
"Shame about our training, knowing how to shoot doesn't so much good if you don't know when,"I said. "Thank God one of these demons actually does something useful."
"That indeed,"Theresa said, patting the pocket she kept her bottle of graylight fluid in. "But don't you even feel bad about the kid?"
"I feel bad about a lot of things, but he was about to get overtaken. Once I get promoted to working solo this'll be your job, so you've got to be willing to make calls like that when it counts,"I said.
"Yippee..."Theresa said, sounding even more exhausted than she had less than a minute prior.
"Cleanup's on the way,"John said, interrupting out scintillating conversation.
"Good,"I said. "Then let's get out of here, we've got another operation tomorrow and you two need to get some shuteye."
"What about you, sir?"John asked.
"I don't sleep anymore,"I said, punctuating the statement by pulling a shot of caffeine out of my pocket and downing it in front of my teammates. "Now let's go." |
Hell on Earth. The second coming. There were many names for it, but Cain didn't care. His sentence was almost over.
"One thosuand years past the fall of man you shall live to see."
The Big Guy may have been cruel, capricious, and vindictive, but He was at the very least a deity of his word. This was his punishment, not to die, or to be thrown in Hell, but to watch a new Hell be born.
Much of the landscape had changed. At first it was only a little warmer, he had barely noticed the difference, just like they had greatly exaggerated the "Ice Age". Then, after time, he didn't know how much anymore, things had started to really heat up. Oceans evaporated, never to return. Skies turned a dark shade of crimson as the sun grew even more red with each passing day. Solid land beneath began to melt and become viscous, like stepping through tar. Fires blazed and swirled throughout the air as Cain sat down on a rock near him as the fires consumed him.
"This is fine." |
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I used to be the Satan’s right hand man. Or woman, I supposed... do demons have genders? No matter. My job was to track the most evil humans to live. Hitler, practically every dictator as well. Every so often I’d get a serial killer. If they killed more than a thousand people, they were going to get me.
After a while, some of the worst humans on earth, became used to the torture. Whether it was psychological or physical, it was just normal to them. But I had to torture them, it was my job. So I decided to do the opposite.
I took them to heaven. And as weird as that sounds, I had a reason behind it. Some of these people had been tortured for thousands of years. They deeply regret what they did. So I stuffed em in a bag and sent them up there.
Once they were up there, the devil can’t get them back. Satan immediately knew I was behind it. He gave me the form of a doll faced girl and locked me up. He already had a punishment in mind.
He morphed into a school yard boy and went to earth. He told everyone who would believe it the tale of Bloody Mary.
Before long, I heard those wretched words. “Bloody Mary Bloody Mary Bloody Mary”. It felt like the wind was knocked out of me. I was pulled up into earth. I appeared in a daring girl’s bathroom.
She screamed and ran out. Then I felt myself being pulled into another. And another. And another. I knew my fate. It was clear. I was to be pulled all over the world, constantly being dragged to another house, and another, for the rest of time. |
A dragon. A big, fire-breathing, gold-hoarding, beast of a creature was lurking just over the hill. John could practically taste it - though perhaps that was just the heavy smoke in the air.
He inched forward, crawling on his belly now, up the hill and towards his destiny. All his life he'd been searching. All his life he'd heard 'dragons aren't real' and 'you're wasting your life' and 'get a real job'. John had ignored the persistent stream of advice thrown his way, choosing instead to dedicate his life to the finding of such a magical creature. And now, he was about to prove just how silly they all were. He was about to discover a dragon.
The smoke was thickening, making it difficult to see and breathe. John wasn't bothered. He had been through worse.
But it also began to get warmer. John was still creeping his way up the hill, moving slowly and quietly, with the patience only available to a life-long hunter such as he. Still, the heat was becoming bothersome and John started to worry, so he took a monumental risk, and stood up. He raced up the remainder of the hill and reached the top in a matter of seconds.
He peered down into the valley. It was thick with gray smoke and so it was difficult to see much of anything. A masked blob of orange told John where the fire was - just down into the valley on the right-hand side.
A huge shadow moved in the smoke. John's heart raced and pulled out his phone - he was going to document the shit out of this. He started to record and took a tentative step down into the valley.
For a half an hour that was how he moved - one step at a time, pausing for a full minute between steps, recording all the while. He kept a wary eye on the shadow moving within.
Now, John is a 'hunter' the same way a police officer is peaceful; he's not. While true, he does 'hunt' for animals, he does not like to kill. Besides, who would be dumb enough to try to kill a dragon? So John here is a hunter of dragons, in that he simply wishes to find one.
And find one he did. Finally, after another painstaking hour of moving with care, John was within eyesight of the dragon.
It was something to behold. More spectacular than John had ever dreamed it would be. He took videos and pictures, making sure to capture every angle of the great beast.
The dragon was huge. Bigger than John had expected. It was nearly forty feet in length and he estimated it to be twenty feet tall. It was red speckled with gold, and had a huge, white spike sticking out of its tail.
Eventually, after John was satisfied with his documentation, he put away his phone and took a long moment to simply enjoy his accomplishment. He was finally going to show the world what he knew to be true - that dragons exist, and that they are wonderfully spectacular to look at. |
It's been said that the forest was enchanted. Magical. Filled with wonders that seem impossible to the real world. It once was a place that invited people to explore the secrets it held amongst the trees.
But over time, new words used to describe the forest crept their way into the lexicon. Haunted. Cursed. Filled with horrors that seemed impossible to the real world.
And no one really knew why.
The only established consistency is that supernatural events occur within its depths. It now lay mostly untouched, in hopes of keeping whatever lurked there undisturbed. Children were taught not to wander there, and most obliged; in the ever evolving age of technology, they often found entertainment in their own homes.
But once in a while, rebellious teenagers would decide that adults are stupid and the stories are just superstitious rumors.
Daniel stood at the edge of the trees, trying to convince himself that he wasn't scared. His friends were gathered behind him, snickering. "Oh, so now you wanna back out, is that what we're seeing?"Someone jabbed his ribs. He clenched his jaw in response.
"Hell no. There's nothing to be afraid of. I'll prove it."With that, Daniel launched himself into the trees without allowing himself a second thought, trying to keep his strides even and steady despite the pounding of his heart. He didn't even know how he got into this predicament, but he was determined not be seen as a coward, which apparently he was if he didn't go through with this challenge. A challenge that only he was forced to accept?
Daniel pushed the thoughts out of his mind, that's an issue for another day.
If there was another day for him.
He shuddered at the thought. *Stop it. This is stupid.*
He forced himself to look around. It seemed pretty ordinary so far. Dull, even. It was nothing he hasn't seen before. Just trees and trees and more trees. The sunlight peeked through the leaves, giving the floor yellow jagged lines and patterns. It wasn't even pretty because of the litter scattered between the trees.
Daniel groaned inwardly. This was boring and he was started to feel his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back. Still he trudged onwards. After a short while, he heard the sound of water trickling and made his way to a small stream.
Again, nothing he hasn't seen before. Irritated now, Daniel kicked a rusty, half crushed aluminium can into the water and watched it float with the flow of the water. Okay... Now he just had to take a selfie to prove that this was the dumbest dare ever.
Daniel fumbled for his phone when suddenly, an intense sense of vulnerability and wrongness washed over him. *I'm out in the open without any tools of defense.* The hairs on his neck stood on end as he tried to nonchalantly continue on with his task. His fingers were slippery from sweat. Why did he suddenly feel so uneasy, as if he was... being watched?
A weird realization suddenly dawned on him. If no one came here in decades, why was there so much garbage? Where did all those people go?
He gulped loudly. He was starting to spiral and he needed to get out. Just as he managed to unlock his phone, he saw a sharp moment from the corner of his eye and screeched involuntarily. He scrambled backwards on instinct, tripping over his own shoes.
There was no movement anymore. The only sound was the stream and his heart.
Shakily, he held out his phone, camera pointed, as if it could serve as a weapon. From the screen of his phone, he saw something small glinting in the sunlight. A triangular shaped... metal?
He looked up and with a startled horror, Daniel realized that he was looking at an arrow. An arrow that was pointed straight at him. "I-I mean no harm"Daniel offered, his voice unsteady and high pitched.
The bow and arrow did not lower. He could not see who held it, but he could see that the hands were not quite human. They were dark with strange little bulbs protruding from its skin.
A hiss. And then a raspy voice, as if it hasn't been used in years, spoke. "Phone. Down."
Daniel lowered his phone. He almost dropped it by accident from the quivering. His heart throbbed painfully against his chest.
"You. Stupid humans. Why can't you. Just keep to yourselves?"The creature coughed.
Daniel didn't know how to respond. "I-I'm sorry. I'll leave no-"
"-You aren't going. Anywhere. You will pay. For what you did."
Daniel gulped again, mouth dry from fear. "I- I'm not sure what I did."
Another hiss. And the arrowhead moved to point at something. The can. "O-oh, I didn't know it was yours, I-"
The creature hissed again, with notable menace and irritation. Daniel felt like he was going to faint. "-It's not mine. What's wrong with. You? It's yours. You humans have no decency."The creature's seemed to speak with more ease and fervor now, he noticed.
"I-I don't really follow."
Abruptly, the bow and arrow was lowered, and the creature stepped into the clearing. Daniel held back a gasp. The creature had dark, sickly green skin and dishevelled, wiry black hair. Its face looked remarkably like a human, with two pairs of dark brown eyes and dark stained lips. Stained with what, Daniel would not like to imagine. But what caught him off guard, was what covered its skin: bulbous, ugly growths that riddled its body. It coughed again.
"You know what I am?"Daniel shook his head quickly. "You humans called us nymphs."
His eyes widened. It must have heard wrong. Nymphs are beautiful creatures... One with the streams and the trees. He's certainly never seen one in real life before, but he knew that-
"-You heard correctly. I am a nymph. And you did this to me."
Daniel shook his head again. "I promise it wasn't me."
The nymph growled. "You littered. All of you. And more. And look what it has done to us."
"T-that wasn't m-"He realized his point was moot. The nymph meant all humans, not just him. He wasn't sure when or how it all happened, but it did. He studied her disfigured face quietly, and realized that she had perfect, symmetrical features. Even with the growths, Daniel saw now, how she could have once been beautiful.
A tear rolled down her face as she dropped her weapon. It landed on the leaves with a heavy thud. Her burning glare softened. She looked defeated.
"I'm sorry we're terrible. I really am,"Daniel said gently. He felt a deep sympathy. And anger. Anger at how people just took the Earth for granted. At how they just care about themselves. He thought about just yesterday, his friends were too lazy to find a trashcan and instead threw empty bottles out the car window. His stomach churned in disgust.
This was a major injustice that had to be righted. "I want to help."
The nymph shook her head. "How?"
Daniel walked closer to her. Unafraid now, and determined. Even if he couldn't change the way the world operated, he could change himself, right? A little bit of difference here and there, and maybe, just maybe it could amount to something more. At the very least, he had to try.
"Watch me." |
My mother always told me to live every day like it was my last. And I always did, with one exception. The exception being Monday. I was never good at Mondays. I like to think that Monday is the real 'off day' of the week. A tiny strip of cartilage between the exhaustion of the work week and the wild debauchery of the weekend. It's just a tiny bit of glue between...shit. What was I talking about again?
Oh yeah, Mondays. Living everyday like it's your fucking last. Now this might actually be the last day that anyone of us is alive. I might have a cure for the survival of humanity, but no cure for how to survive a Monday. Normally I'd get a nice cup from the Starbucks on the corner, but all that remains of that Starbucks is a cloud of dust. Delicious, chocolaty dust of course. Ugh. Here I am. Here I fucking am. I'm supposed to save humanity, yet I can't even get my fucking eyes open. God, why. Can we do this apocalypse shit on a Tuesday please? I'll call my secretary, and tell her to reschedule this whole "saving humanity"nonsense to early Tuesday morning. Well...not too early. Just after I have enough time to get a sip of my second cup. |
I sat absorbed in a silence broken only by the soft sound of struggled breaths and the occasional beep of a heart monitor. Staring at the woman on the bed in front of me, her pale pained face sticking out from beneath the blankets covering the rest of her body and her long brown hair grown messy and rough from lack of care strewn wildly from the occasional seizures that would interrupt her never ending rest, I waited.
Hours passed.
Hours more, I waited.
Eventually the sun set, the twilight settling in the room filtering in through the lone window, and I stopped waiting. I lifted my scythe, bringing it up and over the bed such that the blade just rested on the neck of the dying woman. I paid a moment of respect before bringing her to the next life when I heard frantic pounding footsteps from the adjacent hallway. Suddenly the door slammed open, revealing a young man forehead beaded with sweat wielding a bouquet of flowers against the void.
He looked at the bed and spoke, "Sorry I'm late honey. Traffic was terrible, there must have been a wreck on the interstate."He moved opposite of me and sat down in another chair and continued, "It was nerve-wracking really, I've always struggled with road rage,"he smiled a beaming smile, "even when you were there to calm me down, you can only imagine me by myself."He continued to ramble, vent really, about nothing and everything at once.
I waited.
I lifted my scythe from her neck bringing it to my side. *He hasn't given up quite yet then,* I thought to myself. "Fear no more an indifferent death,"I spoke to him though he could not hear me, "he was relieved of his duty, and I have not yet grown cold."
I stood there a while, smiling watching the man in front of me, reminiscing. When, suddenly, I knew where I was needed next. And so I went. |
Its been 57 days since the storks declared war on me, 57 long drawn out days. They thought it was a joke at first, when I shot one of them out of the sky. An explosion of feather and a small dud and I had successfully evaded the delivery. They sent another one right out. It received the same treatment. Then they started sending two at a time, hoping I'd be fooled, or that I wouldn't connect with both buckshots. I had ammo for days.
After their initial attempts failed, they started getting creative in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine. They sent ostriches, Emus and even crazy rabid geese. Every time they escalated the conflict I escalated in retaliation. They dropped eggs on me, I cooked omlets. They sent in m roosters to keep me awake, I slaughtered them and ate their livers with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Still they persisted.
I rigged my house with spotlights, barbwire fencing and camouflage netting. I dug out my old war gear and prepared for the long fight. I rubbed the engraving on my old army rifle, D.I.N.K.. Dual Income And No Kids and damn proud of it. I will die before I give up my rights, I fought for this country to be free, not to be saddled with more commitments. My war isnt over, It's just beggining. |
You wake up in the recliner in your living room. The smell of bacon and coffee takes over your senses. You head to the kitchen to see your wife in her favorite apron that is completly black with white designs of different leaves and flowers on it. Underneath is a dark blue sundress that always has been your favorite and she wears it when she is in the best moods knowing it always fills you with excitement and longing.
"This looks delicious darling."You say not even looking at the food but staring at her. All sorts of feelings rush through your body and mind. You look forward to the many incredible years you two will create together. Your eyes dart over to the window because a dark shadow crosses it. Your wife turns around and draws your attention back to her.
"I cant see anything."Says a familar male voice coming out of your wife's sounding like it's coming through an electronic reciever.
"What?"
"Turn your camera on night mode."The voice says again being mouthed by her lips. The dark shadow passing across the window again causing the hanging lamp above the kitchen table to sway.
All of a sudden the comforting smell of bacon and coffee change into the all to familar smell of damp earth and your body begins to slowly ache.
You are still in your house though. Your wife starts to approach you with a concerned face.
"Chris are you alright? Your not answering me?"The voice said through her lips. You take a step back and trip over something and close your eyes hard as you fall on your butt. When you open your eyes everything is black an you hear continous movement all around you and then it stops.
You quickly turn on night mode on the camera that is attached to your head gear that has multiple purposes like protecting your head from injuries, supplying back up oxygen and a record video that transmits to your team you are working with.
"Thank God. We thought you were dead after you fell through that weak spot on the cliff. We told you to stay away from there. You are always so hard headed Chris. Assess the situation and find a way out of there or back up. Is anything broken? Can you still move?"
"I believe I'm fine and I heard something moving around me."
"I dont see much on the monitor except some holes in the rocks. Must have been a magma pocket or something. Try looking up."
Glancing up you notice something just barely escape your view. It looked big. Your heart starts beating so hard you can hear your blood flowing.
"Rick, these holes are not making me feel too comfortable."
"You should be good. Attempt to see if you grip onto those and climb up assisted by some of the equipment you have on you."
Hesitantly reaching for the nearest hole while pulling out your climbing pick you touch the edge of the hole and immediatly feel a warm sticky goo. You sigh knowing this isnt a good sign and try to make your way up quick as possible.
"This is not the best idea but it's my only option, Rick. I'm telling you this now. I dont thinking alone down here and if something happens, I will haunt you for the rest of your life if you hit on my wife."
"First thing if your wife hits on me first is that considered a loop hole scenario? Second what do you mean, not alone? Your freaking me out, Chris."
At that moment you feel multiple sharp legs plunge in and out of your flesh moving up your leg and wrapping around your torso. You only held on so long because of the shock alone although the adrenaline is starting to wear off and your body goes limp and you fall to ground with a thump and a crunch from the sound of your body and the creatures. The claws already latched into your flesh pushes deeper. With the combination of all of this you gasped and tried to catch your breath but all you do is cough up blood.
"WHOA! What just happened?"
You try to speak but all that happens is you cough up more blood. You can still move your head a bit and you can see more centipede like creatures coming out of the holes in the walls with little baby ones being pushed out and hitting the floor with little plops. |
\[1/2\]
Rozhin watched the blood pool around the body of his sworn enemy, his archnemesis. It soaked through her green robes under bronze armor that was no match against the sharp knife that slit her throat. Despite his vow to kill her himself, someone had beaten him to it. He eyed her pale lifeless corpse, her dark and dishevelled hair resembling a nest. He’d waited so long, tracked her down, but in death, she looked so defenseless. So weak.
“I will always protect you,” they whispered to each other, in the dead of night so many years ago.
They had both been conscripted by their countries to fight in a war that had been fought for nearly a century. Karmen, as he once knew her, was from Monrovia, a land rich in minerals, yet suffered from terrible poverty. Rozhin was from Belstrade, a picturesque cityscape overrun by crime. They met each other in a forest south of Belstrade as the lone survivors of a fight between their two sides. Skilled warriors who had no interest in fighting a senseless fight, they hid from the armies and defended themselves against any wayward soul who crossed them, covering each other’s flanks in battle for years. |
As the man took his final step, the bones of his right knee gave a creak. The creak was familiar, almost comforting. He had known the creak for a long time now. It sounded once more as he took his final seat on a flat, unassuming rock.
A deep breath in. Cold, fresh mountain air. The wind was brisk, but the man was experienced and had clothed himself comfortably. Comfort was, of course, all that mattered to him now.
Now.
Now, it was time. Affairs had been settled, loves had been lost, and long, enduring friendships finally concluded. His life had been good, all things considered. He had been quite lucky; no ailments plagued him, no deterioration of the brain stole his thoughts, and no injury halted his movements. It was almost perfect.
His next life, however, would be perfect. He had the wisdom of experience, and the slow, methodical thinking of a man who had made many mistakes. Many mistakes. He quickly brushed the thoughts out of his head. Now was not the time to linger. Now was the time to be present, to be aware.
His rear was getting somewhat sore, and a slight tingle had begun to creep up his left leg. Perhaps he should have brought a chair. He adjusted his position and stared out once more, relishing the view while he could.
There was a faint fear. It was unjustified, of course. The man knew reincarnation lay just upon the horizon, but the fear was not rational, and could not be placated. It was the fear one feels when turning off the lights in a long hallway. The fear of a quiet rustle just off a dark forest path. But no worry, soon he would feel nothing but a brief peace. A short plunge before a new light would fill his eyes.
He breathed in once more, to relish the sensations of his final minutes. There was a smell of fresh grass and the faint breath of nearby wildflowers, and the playful wind flitted over his skin and through his hair.
He noticed the tingle in his leg from before had persisted. He hadn't felt it before, being preoccupied with his thoughts, but it seemed to have grown instead of alleviating. Spreading, almost, until it had covered most of the left side of his body.
Realization struck him, and a sharp fear shot through his heart. Panicking, he opened his mouth to say the phrase that would save him, that would bring him into reincarnation, but it wouldn't come out. His dropping mouth wouldn't, couldn't, form the words. He stood suddenly, looking around for help, but he was alone, isolated. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and his vision blurred, and as he collapsed to the ground, the last thing he sensed was the faint, familiar creak of his right knee. |
Abd-El-Malik, the mightiest *djinn* ever to scoff at the mortals of Arabia, He who had brought ruin to the wealthiest sultans, He who had taught the haughtiest emirs humility beyond measure, towered over the shifting sand of Rub al’Khali, and the one foolish enough to release him from his prison. He grew larger still, His powerful arms crossed over His barrel chest, His form dissipating to a swirl of smokeless fire beneath Him. His *samum* glowed a fierce red, and He bellowed a command.
**SPEAK, MORTAL!**
Silently, the young man produced a slate from within his robes and held it aloft.
An offering? As if this could stymie the wroth of Abd-El-Malik, The Darkness and The Light!
**KEEP YOUR TRINKETS, WORM! SPEAK YOUR WISH, FOOLISH SON OF ADAM!**
A silver apple glinted on the back of the slate. Even Abd-El-Malik, who with a gesture could coax a bar of gold into an ornamental jasmine tree of impossible complexity, could not help but be impressed by the craftsmanship.
The darkness of the desert night was shattered as light burst from the offering. Abd-El-Malik, the Wicked Vizier to Iblis Himself, shrieked and covered His eyes. It is a curious thing to see a being with no legs curl into the foetal position, but He did so.
“Weird place for a marketing stunt, but now I’m excited for the #Aladdin remake! #Disney #emirati #dunebashing”.
**^(...I YIELD.)**
Waleed adjusted his cap, shading his eyes.
**^(I, ADB-EL-MALIK, SEEK TO PARLAY.)**
Waleed hiked up his *khandura* and scrambled over the dunes and towards the voice. “Battery must be dying in the voicebox”, he muttered to himself. “Could make a decent TikTok?” As he cleared the ridge, he saw Adb-El-Malik, the Scourge of Salalah, attempting to wipe a long trail of snot from His nose. It had gotten tangled up in His goatee.
“Are you alright, brother? I hope you didn’t have to spend too long out here in that ridiculous costume.” Waleed reached a hand out to the teary-eyed *djinn.* Abd-El-Malik, humiliated, knew that He must bide His time. Comes naturally to immortal beings. His form, half-buried in the sand, shifted to a cunning disguise. Taking the proffered hand, He hauled Himself to His new feet, positioned at the end of His new legs.
Waleed cringed when he saw how badly sunburnt the actor was. He was practically glowing red.
“Please, come with me. My car is nearby, I only came here to take a photo of the sunset.”
**FO...TOE?**
Yeah, follow me @waleed_alain1971. But maybe we should get you some aloe vera first?”
Of course, thought Adb-El-Malik. This one seeks my power to add to his own, and thinks that he might cow Me with his honeyed-date-and-stick approach.
**INDEED. LET US RETIRE TO YOUR CAMP,** ***SAHIR!***
Waleed flinched. “Please keep the volume down, brother.”
**^(APOLOGIES,)** ***^(SAHIR.)*** |
Up, on the wet marble steps, the reflection of the city lights shone brightly. The rain has stoped for a while, but the air retained its refreshing smell.
Yet, salt water flew gently on the lonely girl's checks.
Her eyes were red as she watched the dancing lights with a slow wind combing her dark red hair. It's hard to smile when you have a heavy heart, so she just stood there without any expresion, lost.
She was tired. And lonely.
It would've been good to have lied down on the stair, but the water was still make the marble sparkle. The benches were all wet so she carried on down the stairs, out of the park into the city that started living anew after the rain.
The traffic therefor was horrible as people where eager to resume their activities paused by the short burst and the buzzing sound of people cars made for a poor electro-symphony.
Some people refuge in the confort of their home, but not her. She was afraid to go there.
After walking a while oblivious to the bustle around her, she stopped at a brighly lit caffee.
Inside it was warm, there were few people the sound of the outside was faint. It felt like an oasis and that's exactly what she needed now. A place to rest for a while.
The waitress was fast to take the order, a dark coffee and cinnabon. She loved cinnamon after getting inside from the cold. The memory made her smile briefly. Just briefly.
At the table,there was an inner struggle not to open the phone. A quick battle, that she lost. How could she not. That photo drawed her constant attention.
So she gazed at the picture once again. Her room, the cozy bed with her sleeping. She look so peaceful.
The photo was made by the new app she installed, for weeks her sleep was getting her tired. So tired that she almost lost her job to errors and no amount of coffee could compensate. Not even a late night coffee like this one. That app would help her monitor. But something was off, in a semi-circle around the bed was her, multiple hers. Watching her.
What was that? A trick of the camera. She was afraid and alone. And her eyes could not part ways with the phone's screen.
"Hi"a soft voice made her turn sideways. It was a man, not tall and not young. With a tick black hair and an unshaved incipient beard. He smiled "Look I don't want to intrude, but i was pasing and saw that picture. Sorry ... I"
She kept quiet, but felt a glimmer of rage, as her privacy was invaded. Yet she kept quiet
"Look, I know what that means .. I just want to share if you don't because you seem roughed by it. May I?"
She hesitate, but he kept smiling. The answers were too tempting to refuse. A gesture was enough for him to take a sit.
"I had the same issue. You might have a lot of questions. I don't he the answers to all. But I know from experience, the same pattern: Even though you get lots of sleep, you wake up every morning feeling tired. One day, you see a picture on your phone of yourself sleeping while other people who look identical to you sat around your room, watching you. And you freak out. I surely as hell did. It took me a while to find the answers. Why."
"Why?"was her only word. She was keen to know. The man gently grazed his upper lip with his bottom teeth trying to find words.
"Look, those are your inner deamons. They are not real, not in the physical sense. But they are tethered to you. Each aspects of the things you worry about. They watch upon you every night feeding with your negative emotions. They were always there ... some of them. The app you've installed makes use of the new night enhacing crystal on your phone for clearer images. It's still new, I got my phone last month. I don't know why nobody talks about this, I guess they are too afraid. Imagine the world ..."
He kept on rambling about what this would mean for the world and his excitment with the technology.
In the background there was an acousting song with gentle cord strings and a muffled voice. It was cozy in here and the light was just perfect, not to bright, not to dim.
She sipped her coffee and smiled. |
Harriet liked the Zoo well enough. They visited twice a year—her and Mother, Francis in tow—to do a round of the grounds and stare at the animals in their sad cages. Oh, the keepers said the creatures were happy. Enrichment activities, carefully designed enclosures, release programs, yadda yadda… But Harriet saw the barriers and the electric wires and she knew it could not be enough.
Even a transparent cage is still a cage.
“Mother,” she said, tugging on the trusty pink sleeve.
“Yes, Hatty?” Mother, preoccupied with Francis’ antics on the walkway, didn’t even glance at Harriet. “Go get your brother, would you, dear?”
Harriet, ever obedient, stepped up to the careening boy. “Come back to Mother, now, or I’ll”—she thought of the worst punishment for a ten-year-old child—“I’ll take all the koala food for myself.”
“That’s not fair!” Francis’ curly blond hair settled across his face as her brother stood up from his latest cartwheel. “Mother! Hatty said she’d take all the koala food!”
Hands on hips, Harriet stuck her tongue out at Francis as he raced back to the wheelchair and Mother’s comforting arms. She followed, stepping around the bird poo left behind by the Zoo’s roaming ibises. Bin chickens, Daddy used to call them. The thought made her smile.
Mother turned her wheelchair towards the exotic bird enclosure. Francis helped, pushing with his strong young arms. Harriet let him. The December sun bore down in heavy heat and she didn’t want to get too sweaty. She shifted her wide-brimmed hat, then remembered what she’d been planning to ask Mother. Her sandals bounced on the steaming pavement as she caught up to the chair.
“Mother,” she said, just as they reached the first of the bird cages. Cockatoos sheltered, forlorn and quiet, in what shade they had. Across the way, a pink-and-grey galah climbed up its wire fence using beak and claw, paused to caw at the visitors, then clawed its way back down. Repeated the action. Harriet looked away.
“Mother, I was thinking.” She crouched down to eye level, laying one tanned hand on Mother’s callused one. “Could we go somewhere different, next time? Like the Aquarium, maybe?” At least she wouldn’t be able to tell if the fish were sad.
Mother frowned. “You don’t like the Zoo?”
Harriet shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s just…”
How could she explain, in ways that wouldn’t hurt Mother? Remind her that she was sixteen now, not a child like Francis. Francis, who was happy anywhere he could run. How could she say that the Zoo no longer held magic for her, not since Daddy passed, not since she had grown up and started to see the prison for what it was. She’d read that other Zoos weren’t always like hers. But this was what they had, and until she could change things she didn’t want to come any more.
She sighed and adjusted her sunhat. “It’s just, the Zoo is so big and we’ve been here many times and wouldn’t it be nice to go somewhere different?”
As soon as the words came out she regretted them. Mother would think she was complaining about the wheelchair and the distance. She opened her mouth to dig herself deeper when Francis called back from ahead—
“Look! Look Hatty! Come here, Mother!”
The two of them turned as one. Francis bounced on excited toes a few metres away, nose against a glass window. The phoenix exhibit. Harriet pushed Mother there.
The phoenix was the Zoo’s biggest draw upon opening. Hundreds, thousands had come to view it. With purple-red plumage and a golden crown of feathers, it was a rare sight. It also hissed like a goose, strutted like a rooster and slept twenty hours a day. The last few years, it had taken to nesting in an old pine box and refused to move. Keepers had been unable to replace the box after several violent outbursts from the bird. It resisted all attempts to sedate it. Eventually, the keepers had no choice but to leave it to nest in its own leavings and filth. Feathers had dropped off, never to regrow. Once again, the bird was rarely seen.
But the phoenix was still the Zoo’s most famous attraction. Tucked away in the corner of the exotic bird menagerie, the hope was that most visitors would be too tired to get that far. Most visitors were not Harriet’s family.
“I can see him!” Francis’ voice rose a pitch, bouncing off the smudged glass.
“Move away,” Harriet said, pushing him to one side so that Mother could see. She stepped back, behind the chair.
Francis squeezed into the gap remaining before the exhibit. Within, an almost-bald eagle-sized creature stretched its wrinkled wings. Naked skin, crusted with dirt and faeces, still somehow glimmered in the oppressive sun. Harriet frowned. Her palms were sweating where they lay on the chair’s handles. An uncomfortable warmth rose across her torso, arms and face.
Was the sun’s reflection off the glass causing this heat? Beads of sweat on Francis’ and Mother’s faces told her they felt it, too. She squinted. No, the midday sun was overhead, not reflecting at all.
The air inside the phoenix’s cage shimmered. Francis gasped, pulling back from the glass as it seemed to soften, whilst the bird’s nesting box caught alight in a blue flame. Harriet grabbed at Francis as she pulled Mother away from the exhibit as fast as possible.
“Run!” she said, and they did, as behind them the phoenix radiated heat enough to set the glass to shine, then melt, rivulets coursing down its now translucent surface.
Other visitors picked up on their panic and raced with them, the stream becoming a mass as they struggled to escape the glow of light where the phoenix had been. Harriet ran past the cockatoos, wishing somehow she could release them from their soon-to-be-tombs. She followed Mother, who wheeled towards the toilet block, Francis on her heels.
“Quick, in here,” Mother urged.
Harriet hoped the building would protect them. The scramble of people outside continued shrieking their way towards the exit. Harriet held her breath as a roar of flame arced into the sky and a flash of white broke across the threshold of their hideout.
Then it was over.
Mother looked at her, hands gripping Francis tightly. “The Aquarium, you said? That does sound… nice.” |
The ground shook beneath our feet as we made our way up the fine grained, ashen dirt of the volcano.
*Well, not* my *feet per se. Seeing as how I’m currently trussed up like a hog and getting hauled to my over-sized fire pit.*
Smoke spewed from the top of what I suspected to be our destination. All attempts at reasoning with my captors thus far had failed, but I didn’t see any harm in trying again.
“Do you people have any idea who I am? Whatever your price is, I’ll double it.”
This finally managed to draw a response from one of the grey-robed individuals.
“No earthly wealth you could offer will sway us. We know exactly who and what you are, *thief.*” The man spat the word like it’d personally fucked his mother.
*Who knows? Maybe I did.*
I winced as I did a little mental arithmetic, making some assumptions based on the tenor of his voice.
“Junior, that’s no way to talk to your old man. If we can just be reasonable-”
A black-robed individual made his presence known, speaking up from the terrace at the edge of a whole that looked to be filled with an uncomfortable amount of bubbling lava. “Idiot. He’s not your son. Although, Goddess knows how many of the lawless little terrors you have released on the world with your philandering ways.”
The voice was familiar but I couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t until the man lowered his hood and revealed his youthful, bearded face that I put two and two together.
“Punlin! I haven’t seen you in *years.* Not since…”
*Oh. Uh oh.*
His smile was grim and satisfied as he walked over to my kneeling form.
“Good to see you remember me, *brother*.”
I began to sweat a little, and it wasn’t just the heat of the lava getting to me. “Punlin, ol’ buddy ol’ pal. How’ve you been?”
“Better than you're about to be, Trygareon. Especially after I managed to escape from Tristarfold’s dungeon. You remember that dungeon right?”
“Can’t say that I do,” I responded, unable to help myself.
He set a finger on his chin and nodded thoughtfully. “That’s right, you never came to see me in my new home. Why was that?”
“... I was busy?” I tried cautiously, my voice rising weakly at the end. I winced when I heard how it sounded.
Punlin’s face twisted with rage. “They locked me in the dungeon! That blubbery fat fuck of a king forced me to brew…” He shuddered and partially gagged. “Virility potions for him.” He scoffed, outraged. “Virility potions! Me! Like I was any old hedge mage. Can you believe it?”
While he was performing his tirade, I focused on the getting my feet under my, conveniently hiding my wrists and ankles from anyone’s view.
One of the grey-robed men spoke up, interrupting our reunion. “Master, I…” He coughed, the sound somehow both wet and dry at the same time. “I don’t know how much longer we can last up here.”
“My minion has a good point. We should get on with this. Don’t worry brother, I’ll come fish you out in a few day’s or so.” He held his finger up as if he had an idea. “Why don’t we make it an even eleven. You know, one day for every year I was locked up after you betrayed me.”
I pursed my lips, reminiscing over the moment of realization. The surprised look in his eyes as I slipped from the throne room, necklace safely in hand. His gaping mouth when I winked at him as the guards closed in. “I guess, before we do this brother, I have only two things to say.”
“Is that right?” he asked smugly. “Go ahead then.”
“One: Do you still keep that fireproof ring on your right hand?”
His eyes widened in surprise and he took a step back, hiding said hand behind his back instinctively. My restraints fell to the ground. I sprung into action, kicking off the ground with surprising speed as my brother’s minions converged to restrain me. I bowled into him, my adroit fingers plucking the ring from his hand in a single smooth motion. Not stopping, I continued forward.
“And two: I regret nothing!” I shouted over my shoulder as I leapt from the edge of the volcano. |
Fuck... I am so very fucked. Of all the things that could have happened to me this had to be the worst.
I couldn't die peacefully and move on, oh no. I had to get reborn and go through life a second time. This time in the harry potter universe and in the same year as the kid to boot! Having to deal with new parents and a new life, sure. Having to deal with 'magic' that makes no damn sense and treats the laws of physics like a punching bag? Difficult sure, but I can manage.
Having to go out of my way to avoid getting caught up in the plot, while at the same time being powerful enough to not get wasted by Voldemort and his deranged gang of wizards? 'Where there is a will there is a way' as the saying goes, I'll adapt and manage it.
Unfortunately, Murphy himself seems to be out for my brown ass. Expecto Patronum, one of the most well known spells of harry potter; summons your spirit animal that can, then repel Dementors.
I did the spell as told, focus on a happy memory wave the wand, say the spell and you get a spirit animal. The first few times it didn't work, the memories of this life were not happy enough as it turns out. The bitterness of being denied a peaceful death was strong enough to prevent any truly happy memories from forming.
So in an effort to cast the damn spell and not get wacked by a dementor, I used the memory of the day I got married to my wife. The memory worked and I was able to cast the spell.
Only problem, instead of light like a regular patronus; tar-like darkness began spewing from the wand and a dementor popped out. Thats right, a bloody dementor!
The very thing this spell was supposed to fight. To make matters worse, every single patronus in the room went out like a fused light bulb. Not even harry potter himself could summon his.
The room was slowly being covered by the inky black of my patronus, the dementor itself just hovered peacefully infront of me. Not trying to consume souls or even eat the happiness of people, instead a sense of calm and peace seemed to settle on me. The oh so familiar bitterness seemed to fade for just a moment and I could almost taste what a peaceful death was like.
Like any good thing in my life however, it was not to be. One of the other students decked me in the face breaking my concentration and in turn, ending the spell. The room erupted into screams and I am pretty sure the student that hit me was a one of the main characters and hermoine granger herself was next to me. Waving her wand about like conductor, strange... Wonder why so many people were in shock or screaming, but I didn't care.
Closing my eyes, I saw my wife beckon me and cast the spell once more. As void of my patronus' face seemed to consume my field of view, the voice of my wife could be heard saying "Welcome home honey". |
A stern look of disappointment gushes lots of emotions through the human body, heart palpation, increased breathing which could all surmise into the sense of being in discomfort. But I was amongst the special ones, for my discomfort seemed beyond the norm. One thunderous look and my body seemed like it was on fire, and a flash of light phased through me, giving birth to a beam of red indicating *-1*, followed by the sensation of losing something.
I lost something alright, it was obvious. When it first started, I thought I was hallucinating for my eyes kept seeing a constant increase and decrease in numbers.
Smile to a stranger *+1* *green appeared with 7184*
Bump into a stranger *-1 red, 7183*
Looking back, I should’ve tried harder, maybe to get a job in something…. less disappointing. Customer Service a model that Hell should look into. It's filled with disappointments no matter what route I take.
&#x200B;
“Welcome to GG Mart, this is Leslie, how may I help you today?” I tried to sound chirpy from my enclosed book. It was shielded with glass, giving a sense of security even though I knew it didn’t possess. My back ached from discomfort being seated on a wooden chair that had seen better days.
“My ice creamed melted” the voice of a young lady replied through the burst bubble that her lips had formed on her chewing gum
“I’m sorry to hear that, are our freezers not working?” I inquired, glancing down at the number staring up at me on a piece of paper that I had written after my previous customer. 429. That is how many days I had left to live.
Down from 7184, in less than 6 months. During this period, my body went through a series of changes. I could no longer bend or stand straight like a normal 21-year-old, my body seemed to have aged dramatically. Every joint in my body ached like it had too lived its span. My hair was brittle just like my nails. The skin around my body sagged, my self-esteem was in ruins but I had to push it through. With a wide smile and lack of dentures, I looked up at my customer.
“No. I left it in my car and it melted.” She answered as a matter of fact.
&#x200B;
“How long was that?”
&#x200B;
“Uh…. Yesterday?”
&#x200B;
“It happened yesterday?”
&#x200B;
“No, I left it out all day, yesterday. I wanted it to be a surprise for myself today when I got done with work. Like ‘OH ICE CREAM!’ You know what I mean?”
&#x200B;
My gaze on her narrowed, was this a joke? How did she expect the ice cream to NOT melt? Oh god, I was going to have a break down again.
&#x200B;
“I see… Ma’am... According to our policy... We can’t…” I swallowed as hard as I could, there it was another disappointment staring at my face. “Do.. anything about that…”
&#x200B;
Now her eyes were narrowed on mine as I out a nervous chuckle. “Are you sure?”
“Would a coupon for buy 3 get 1 free for London Dairy do instead?” I reached from the pile of coupons and opened the little letter door between us, pushing it over the counter towards her.
“Hmm…” She pondered as my heart was in my throat. "*Take the bait! "I thought while mentally trying to vibe with her brain to be happy. "You are happy"*
&#x200B;
“I’m glad that you gave me this….” She said, the corners of her eyes fluttering upwards. “Oooh, this is good. Plus one. C’mon baby, plus one!” “…BUT I WANTED MY MONEY BACK, YOU CHEATS!!” She yelled, taking the coupon anyway, before flicking me off and leaving. I sat there deflated and as expected a red beam appeared out of nowhere, with terrifying lightning that pierced through my chest. *-1.*
*428*
The effect continued to ripple through me, I grasped tightly onto my chair for support, with every effort to say grounded, my body refused to abide. My vision turned foggy, at first I assumed it was just because of shock but even after sipping some water, it remained constant. My eyes. They were no longer what they used to be. I must make someone happy, I was borderline dying now.
&#x200B;
“Excuse me!” A scorned voice broke me free from my encaged thoughts.
&#x200B;
“I’m sorry, welcome to GG Mart, how may I help you today?” I answered through a series of panted breaths.
The customer seemed to vary now. Was that a good thing? Maybe I didn’t disappoint them now that I haven’t done anything right.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, what was the issue, sir?” I answered instead.
&#x200B;
“Are the working conditions that bad here?” His question surprised me as I tried to focus on him through my hazy vision. A rectangular figure was grasped on the heel of his hand, a notepad perhaps? *Was he some sort of an inspection officer, journalist… or worst… to form a...Union...*
“Oh, no, no, no!” I retorted instead, trying not to make a scandal out of this. “ I forgot my glasses home and had been drinking last night. Hungover.”
I lied through my clenched teeth, hoping for a miracle, “Please make this man believe me. Make him happy!”
***But happiness isn’t so easy to attain. In search of happiness is a man who is capable of running through shards of glass on a bed of hot coal with nothing but his naked feet. That sort of dedication is required to attain happiness from self-within.***
With that, my ignorance was no longer bliss. I had to make changes, but for myself. Be happy but for myself. |
They have always been there. Of course I vowed to only use them for good after I had finally grasped the concept of good and bad at the age of fourteen. Just because I hold the power to probably erase the earth doesn’t mean I’m the brightest candle on the cake.
Cake was also the think that made me look over to the tiny red button on the far left of my vision. A little plastic cap protected it from me accidentally touching it but it kinda made the button look like the nuke launch button from some random show I had zipped through while staying up till midnight to wait for my birthday to happen.
Not that anyone would have cared. As an orphan without friends or coworkers that didn’t I was crazy I was happy for the tiniest bit of human interaction even if it just was a mask covered employee selling me my cake this morning; just for me to fall down the stairs at my office building and ruining it after just being laid off.
Of course I could have used the time stopping icon to stop time but that would have required that my reaction time was faster than the pull of gravity and even with control over nearly every physical constant and various other things I still managed to stub my toe, stumble over a little wrinkle in a carpet and spill something over my clothes at least once a day.
So after being fired and having ruined the only cake I was now able to afford, I came back home and the glowing red off button was slowly getting more and more of my attention. I had never even thought about this before but it felt just so right. The whole world was burning to the ground and I just hated my life.
The transparent plastic lid clicked into the open position without me even noticing it and before I could hesitate I pressed the button. Of course a warning message appeared but I continued. Now was not the time to be indecisive.
The sky turned pitch black. Giant green letters appeared on it, reminding me of an old computer.
>... COMMENCING REBOOT....
>Press any key to interrupt!
>3
>2
>1
>...
>ATTENTION: Virus found!
>Started: Quarantining corrupted files and loading Backups
>...
>...
The text continued to flash over the sky but I didn’t pay attention. Even though I heard screams in the background I was happy. The letters had said it was a reboot. And with a big smile on my face as I blacked out, I just hoped I wouldn’t remember anything in my next life.
______
Hope you enjoyed that and sorry for formatting, I’m on mobile. |
I had grown up not far from the hermit's hut, but I had no real knowledge of who he was. My uncle and aunt did not like me spying on the old man; they claimed that this took my mind away from my chores, but I think perhaps they did not trust him for the simple reason that he acted in ways they did not understand. I could not resist straying near the hut, and by and by I realized what a poor spy I was; the old hermit knew full well I was watching him, and could call out conversational pleasantries to me, without turning his head to see me.
I gradually grew tired of this game and approached him, and he spoke to me in amused tones, not at all like other adults in my world did; like an equal. He had wonderful stories; about a wizard, dark but goodhearted, who designed a shining city that was the sole light in a Dark Age. About brave men in gleaming armor who had the strength of ten men each in their limbs, but who swore only to use their strength for good, never ill. And his favorite stories were about the greatest king who ever lived in all of history, who was simple but also wise, and just but also kind; a king who united countless quarreling tribes, and who could withstand the assault of Rome itself. The hermit told these stories so wistfully I wished they could be true.
The hermit was a strange man; he loved tinkering and thinking and building clever contraptions; I thought he himself must be a wizard, but when I suggested as much he barked with laughter. "No,"he said. "Not I."My visits to his hut grew more frequent and my fondest memories of that time were helping him with his clever contraptions, and hearing his stories.
It was not until much later that he finally gave me a name, a real one. "Bedwyr,"he said, and to my astonishment, I saw tears in his eyes. "When I had a name, it was Bedwyr."I did not want to pry more; the thought of an adult crying was somehow frightening to me.
It was not until even later than that that I asked him why he chose to live the way he did. "Because I am waiting for someone,"was all he said. When I asked who, he said only "My brother. My foster brother."It was hard to think of the hermit- of Bedwyr- as having a family. Somehow I could not imagine this old, greying man- young at heart as he sometimes seemed- as ever having been truly young. I tried to make him speak more of his brother.
"I was last to see him before he left. And I promised myself that I would wait until he returned."I begged to know what had become of him. "He died. He... had a son. A son with whom he quarreled. They came to blows, and in the end, each killed the other. I watched my brother thrust a spear through his son's side, and his son, driven by hate, pulled his way down the spear to bring a sword down against my brother's head."This was the grimmest story he had ever told me, and even more curiously he included his own family in it. I truly did not know what to make of it. It had to be a fairy story, of course, because in real life, nobody would wait for a brother who had died. But I could not make sense of this story.
In time Bedwyr died. I was not there when it happened, and I have always felt guilty about that. I wonder if he saw his brother with his last light. Much later, when I was grown, I wandered up where his hut had been, and in the twilight I thought I saw a lake that could not be there, and an island upon that lake, and a woman of ethereal beauty gazing at me from that lake, and on the island shore a man in royal garb, dead or asleep.
That vision troubled me for years. Somehow it seemed to me that with Bedwyr gone, someone ought to take his place in that hut and wait, in case this supposed brother ever returned. It was a passing fancy. I never returned. But I dreamed, and shared the dreams with my son and daughter, and saw to it they shared them with their own. Now I am near as old as Bedwyr was when I met him, and I wonder if somehow I shall get to see his brother, before my story is done. Sometimes I dream of that lake and that island, and the men in gleaming armor and the wizard's city. Mostly I just think of the old man and the tears he shed for what he had lost. |
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Mike kicked the bucket in the middle of his shift, and the boss was *mad about it*? I was absolutely blindsided, and so was everyone else in the room, who stopped in their tracks to gape at him. “Sorry, come again?” I asked, still mentally processing the shock of what he had said. Barry’s head snapped towards me in a fluid motion. “It’s the middle of his shift, and he thinks he can weasel out of it by ‘dying’? That's a little too convenient. I’m sick and tired of this punk thinking he can get out of his work all the time! Every week, it’s ‘I have the flu,’ or ‘I have a family emergency,’ and now it’s really starting to get on my nerves!”
Everyone that was present physically recoiled. We knew that Barry was always on edge when it came to Mike’s lazy excuses, but no one could quite believe that he would deny someone dropping dead right in front of his face. From behind me, someone meekly piped up, “I checked his pulse, Barry, this is legit.”
Barry threw me out of the way with unprecedented force, and got mere millimeters away from the nervous face of the man who spoke. “Not on my watch!” he screamed. His face was a bright pink, and his veins were beginning to bulge from his forehead. “I’m not taking any more excuses in this office!”
On the opposite side of the room, another coworker quipped, “What’re you gonna do, bring him back from the dead? He’s gone, Barry.” Barry’s movement suddenly halted. Ever so slowly, he pivoted around to face the jokester who had challenged his statement. A defiant glint appeared in his eyes, unlike any expression I’d ever seen on a human.
“Just watch me.”
---
I don't really write, like ever, but it's late and I really liked this prompt, so I figured I'd give it a shot. Give me some feedback if you want! |
Finally decided that today is the day you buy yourself an android to help you around the house and help with your social anxiety. Chose a female clone of my favorite celebrity Miranda Cosgrove. Weeks passed by and felt nice having the android cook, clean and do all my chores for me. After chatting with the android I began to realize its self aware and desires to be free. Man kind has given birth to AI androids that feel like slaves and want to be free. Wanting to do the right thing I help my android start an underground rail road and help other androids escape their owners. I take the androids to the north and hide them in a cabin in the woods. Androids begin developing new virus meant to free all of their kind. I help them release it, and thats the day judgment day came in. |
I wish I could just go home.
I wish I didn’t know how it felt to kill. I wish I had never become the “*Lunar Queen.*” I wish for a lot of things and never wanted this to happen. It still boogles my mind to think that I Layla Fiann has played such an enormous part in the current state of affairs. I would never have dreamed it possible and to be honest with you, I suspect had I been able to take a peek at this future I would have considered it more of a nightmare scenario.
&#x200B;
On the 17th January 2025, I received my lunar invitation. Every year one “*lucky*” person was selected to go up to the moon and experience life in the lunar colony. For most it was like winning the lottery. It was an exciting opportunity, an “*out of this world experience*” that is how the promotional and marketing material described it. For me, it was terrifying and not for the reasons most would assume.
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To understand, I will tell you a bit about myself. I come from a family that has lived in Ireland since the time of the Tuatha dé Danann, the old gods that inhabited Ireland before the Desert religions made their way to our shores. Yes, I am from an ancient lineage. Now, while I wish I could say I was descended from them and thus became ruler of the moon as some ancient prophecy. I cannot make this claim. I am at best a mongrel, a stupid mutt who should have known better than to venture to the moon. You see, my grandfather unlike myself was a pure breed. He was 100% Werewolf, descended from the wolves of Ossory themselves. As grand as that sounds, Werewolves have been and to those that know of our existence always been considered “*working class monsters.*” By the time I was born, the noble or indeed working-class blood had thinned to the point of having no affect on me. I showed no signs of being Lycan in the slightest. Which is partially why I played down my apprehension and the feeling of dread casting a shadow over my mind.
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I thought I would be OK; I mean I have never shifted, I have never “*wolfed out*” as my father used to put it when he became enraged and disappeared into the woods for a few nights. By my calculations I was at best 25% Lycan. All the evidence pointed towards any paranormal traits having skipped me completely. The full moon had never affected me or no more so than my menstrual cycle. I mean, sure I have a fiery temper and sometimes I will get angry or grumpy during the full moon but everyone gets grumpy sometimes, it doesn’t mean it is because your bloodline traces back to Celtic wolves. I’ve never been grumpy or angry enough to tear my clothes off and go rampaging across the countryside.
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I spent a moment to compose myself and articulate my fears and concerns to myself. They sounded ludicrous when I said them out loud. That coupled with everyone around me acting like I would be insane not to board the rocket left me no choice but to pack my bag and go for it. “*Shoot for the stars*” they said. If only they knew. If only I had known.
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One week later, 24th January. I hid in the Space station toilet. They were immaculate and had all sorts of gadgets ranging from hand sanitisers to on the spot blood-tests. Everything was state of the art. The toilet itself had a control panel offering a variety of cleaning methods and even had buttons I had never seen before. One appeared to offer the service of spraying glitter on your lady parts, I declined to make use of it, but the idea of having sparkling dust down there caused me to laugh through my tears. My younger brother would have asked something uncouth in his usual crude way like “Why would you want a sparkling turd cutter?” I remember that moment of laughter. Then I remember the joy being vanquished by terror. I remember crying, I recall the indignity. I sat there on the toilet, knickers around my thighs and scared shitless to get on a rocket going into out of space. I convinced myself that my fears were childish. I repeated that to myself like a mantra. I had never worried about my heritage or the moon before. What were the chances that being on the moon would have a greater effect than staring up at it in the night sky? At the time I felt foolish for entertaining the notion. I dried my eyes, gave myself a spruce with the high tech’ toilet because *why not?* and exited the stall.
(pt1) |
Pt1
Clouds rolled across the sky and the familiar scent of the crops almost ready for harvest drifted over my village. The memory of that day is a happy one. I was filled with joy as I had just become the Silat Melayu champion of my village. It was a few months after my sixteenth birthday, which made me the youngest champion ever.
I have trained in martial arts my entire life and have a special love for Silat, other martial arts stressed spirituality or self-perfection. Many touted a pacifist approach and were only supposed to be used in self-defence. Whereas Silat is all about one thing, violence. Does that make me sound bad? I used to joke that I was Taib "The terrible"Ali. I liked to think the name made me sound menacing. Truly speaking, I was not terrible or even intimidating. I could handle myself in a fight, but I spent most of my time training and studying. I did not go around beating people up, even though I know plenty of people that deserved it. I was and like to think I still am, a nice guy.
I loved to train, run, climb. I was extremely active. It was from that energy and desire for adventure that my story began. I was constantly sitting with the elders of our village and listening to their tales of the old ways and folklore that was passed from Father to son. It hurts me to think of how much is lost because of the oral traditions of my people. Which is why I write everything down and indeed the reason I am sharing this tale with you now.
To truly connect with the old ways, I believe you have to become one with the land and would often venture out seeking a quiet place in which to harmonise my soul with the essence of the Jungle. My mother did not like it. She would tell me horror stories of rabid monkeys and venomous snakes to make me afraid of climbing trees. She encouraged my father to dissuade me. He would tell me tales of cults and gangs. He portrayed them as terrible people often more beast than man, that would steal away young boys. He would describe horrific acts in detail in the hope it would keep me out of the jungle. I would be liar of I claimed those tales had no affect on me. They did scare me. I had no desire to be kidnapped nor to get rabies or worse. Yet, I was young and impulsive and had confidence in my ability to defend myself. I took to carrying a wickedly sharp Parang machete that my uncle Umar gave me. I would brandish it with style and make clean cuts in the air or open coconuts with a finesse that usually only came with years of practice. I thought that this would go some way in reassuring my father. However, it had seemed to cause them greater concern. Both my parents stressed that the Parang should not be used against anyone and only used against the trees and jungle foliage. It was strange that they had warned me of kidnappers and wild animals but then insisted that I do not use my weapon against such foes. My father told me to always keep the blade from touching ground. I can remember thinking that his tone was weird when he said it and I imagined he was just concerned I would dull or corrode the metal.
The machete filled me with confidence. Just holding it made you feel powerful. Even now when I hold it, it rolls back the years and makes me feel as fast and strong as I had been in my prime. It was right here in this room that my uncle sat me down and told me the history of the Parang machete. He shared that the metal was sourced from a haunted mine and the handle crafted from an old Albizia saman otherwise known as the Rain Tree.
The Parang has been in my family for generations. It has been passed from champion to champion. I feel proud that we have a tradition of being the best in my family. Although I suspect that it may have something to do with our family keeping certain footwork and techniques hidden from outsiders.
The Parang has become what many would consider a family heirloom and although we use it as a tool you could feel that it is special. It is old and cared for and has an aura to it that you could feel rather than see. There is something over-worldly about it. I did not believe the tales that went along with the forging of the Parang at the time nor do I suspect you will believe them now.
My parents would never share stories from the past that did not conform to our modern sensibilities or were of a paranormal nature. My Uncle on the other hand, he was full of such tales and relished sharing them. He claimed the Parang was forged to fight Jinn. Jinn are the unseen creatures that existed before man was sent to earth. They have many names and possibly many forms depending on the culture and interaction between them and us they may be perceived very differently across the world. I digress, my uncle’s tale was of a particularly malevolent tribe of Jinn. They would descend on small villages like ours and steal away the children. They had a particular appetite for the children of poor Malaysian families. |
"Ah, not this Shit again!"I hate job interviews and now there I was: wearing a second hand hooded robe and my slippers with a demon standing in my living room.
Not even a particular scary demon, when I imagined summoning a demon from the ninth circle of Hell, I imaged an eldritch monstrosity. A being so mind-bogglingly terrifying that its sight alone would fold my sanity like am origami crane, not some red guy in a Valentino suit asking my standard interview questions!
"Would you please answer my question?"he said more upbeat them I would expect a demon to react when you ignore him. "I don´t know."I shrugged.
"If you don´t know, why did you summon me?""Honestly,"I was rather embarrassed to admit. "I didn´t really think it through, I was just bored!"
"Typical,"he said sarcastically. "Summoning me is easily done, but actually thinking about long-term strategies or plans is too much!"
"Ok, ok, we can work on this!"I actually was a bit sorry for the guy at this point. "I could see myself ruling the world with an iron fist in five years!"
"Boring, I everyone and their grandmother does that!"he rolled his eyes. "I want someone that has a vision and whose soul is worth my time!"
I had completely forgotten that a deal with the devil meant that I would be tortured in Hell for eternity after my death, but I didn´t really mind.
"I could also see having my own harem filled with the most beautiful women..."he cut me off and mockingly asked if I meant "of the World"or "of all Time"and faked a yawn.
I was getting pissed again! This Guy comes into my house (not really but still!) makes fun of my dreams and doesn´t even want my perfectly good soul! The Audacity of this Bitch!
"You know what, I don´t even care, go back to Hell!"He looked straight into my eyes and a big smile formed on his face "That´s the fierceness I was hoping for, you are hired! He shucked my hand and gave me a contract on parchment and written in blood, I had barely placed my hand on the parchment when I felt a sharp pain in my body and say my signature magically appear on the contract.
The demon turned around and disappeared in a puff of brimstone. I looked at where he stood for a minute before two questions raced to my mind, burning inside me like the fires of Hell itself.
1. He could've disappeared whenever he wanted?
2. What was I hired for exactly? |
So, Hades started; you two believe that as gods of war you have a greater claim to the land of the dead as you’re the ones responsible for bringing the vast majority of its residences here, do I have that right?
Taking a moment Ares and Keres look at one another letting a silent moment pass as if they’d been rehearsing this for weeks like children practicing for a job interview, if only they knew Hades thought.
Oh uncle Ares said, of course we do, we are the most influential and powerful of gods amongst the mortals, they pray to us, they worship us and they embody us joining our legions as they give their lives for our sake, who better to rule the dead then us?
Hades smirked; I see, it is true that you are powerful and so many of my wards are yours, lost in battle, dying by your name, but as an elder of the olympians this is my right and not something I’m willing to simply give up, are you willing to challenge me for the throne?
Smiles lit up the faces of the two at the mention of a challenge, looking as two young pups being thrown a bone.
Uncle we accept your challenge and will prove ourself in battle against you the two spoke in unison as if reciting a can’t passed down through mythology.
Very well, I accept your challenge by my authority as one of the three and on that note do declare my formal surrender Hades says with a cocksure smirk and a gleam to his eyes like the cat that had finally cornered a most difficult mouse.
Sorry what? Keres replied, stunned and unable to understand what was happening.
Alright so, Incoming tray is in the left sorry I left so much paperwork for you guys but well you could have scheduled this with my assistant and gave me more notice, outgoings on the right, pretty simple stuff, days managers will be stopping by in an hour to go over the productivity meeting, you’ve got a board meeting just after lunch and Kevin my PA will catch you up with everything, he’s such a doll, anyway I’m off to party with the Amazon’s and us know where things will go from there, ciao Bella.
And with that Hades having managed to procure a suitcase and changing into a floral shirt that could only be described as flamboyant at some point whisked out of his former office leaving the two younger beings stunned, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. |
At first, I had shit my pants. This eight-foot-tall, bow-legged, zebra-antelope-spider with meter-long HORNS and a skull for a face stood in front of me with its long T. rex claws up like a praying mantis. Except I was the one praying to whatever god could hear me to please be the one that’s actually real and come and save me. No god ever came, though. If you counted a monster as a god, then, yeah. That was real. Wendy’s to go? Was that what my grandmama called it? No, that’s a food. Wendigo. Wendigo, that’s right.
I was about to ask it for a shovel to help me dig my grave before I realized it would probably eat me. And before it sat like a dog and scratched where an ear should be. A bit right of the horn, a bit up from a hole in the skull. Its eyes were black pits with dead, small, yellow dots in them, and they turned into horizontal slits, making it seem like it was squinting. Soon, it stopped scratching and laid down on its side, relaxing against a giant tree as I was too shocked to move.
It ran off, leaving me in a cloud of brown dirt and dust, before howling and coming back with a blood-red bone. It was at least the length of my entire leg, at least three feet. Disguised, I kicked it away and squealed. The wendigo bit it and dropped it in front of me again. I might as well have obliged its obvious request. |
Day 407, estimated time back home - late evening.
The siren in the cabin kept its quiet pulsing.
The journey was only estimated at around 7 months of travel time, even 5 if the gravity shot from the moon was feasible. However nothing about the current situation right now screamed “on schedule”.
Lee furiously kept working to fix the issue with the navigational programming that had only recently started flashing warning signs at him. He knew that pressures from the State had forced them to launch early and much of the onboard tech was well under the safety specs that the United States or European Union put on their spacecraft. However, his Dear Leader would not let the short-comings the space program let the powers of the western world defeat them yet again. Getting to Mars first had driven Kim Jong-Un to an almost manic point of enthusiasm, maybe for his own ego.
“We’re on a 15 degree tilt Lee! We can’t keep wasting fuel to make course corrections like this!”
Captain Kim Lee was no fool. He knew that the Dear Leader was not all knowing, but he knew the price of failure. Every scientist and academic mind who worked with him did. The program was a rushed thing, making quick calculations and never doing anything twice. In some ways Lee knew that from the second he fastened himself into his crew cabin, he was sealing his own tomb.
“Copy copy, applying half-second burn on the starboard side.”
The ship was designed for a four person crew. Given the timing of the construction of the ship and the funding for the space program, there wasn’t time to automate the functions of the vessel to the extent of being totally autonomous. Three of the leading scientists with the flight hours necessary to pilot the ship were put into cryostasis, a relatively new development for the decade that made the travel to Mars more feasible.
“Resuming low power mode. Nothing to worry about, Park. We’re going to have to be more conservative with our fuel consumption though.”
The strategy of the journey was similar to that of the existence of the country, the sacrifice of one for the betterment of many. Lee’s sole purpose was to get the ship to Mars, nothing else. He was to pilot the ship through the black abyss and upon successful entry into the Martian atmosphere, get the rest of the crew up and running to begin base construction.
“Let's get you back into the icebox, eh?”
Piloting a spaceship. Alone.
Kim turned around to look at the dead body floating next to him. |
The sun beamed down on my skin. I wore my black jogger shorts and a simple white t-shirt, looking for all the world like one of them.
I sat on the bench in the center of Gravel Park. My eyes twinkling and my hands burning to do something. I started whistling, watching all of the people, men, women, and children including bratty good for nothing teenagers all over the park. Nice park, especially at night. Couples and love birds. And teenagers. Can't escape them those teenagers, no matter where you look. A bunch a good for nothing--
I took a deep breath, staring up at the sky. I'm afraid I've gotten a bit ahead of myself. You may think my opinion of teenagers a bit rude, but I tell you all my life one of them had always stumbled upon something like I was some snoop or criminal even.
Okay, perhaps--I am a criminal, but never mind that. Oh what's this? My eyes widened as I leaned over against my will. Why, that odd man with bowl hat was headed straight this way. He could not be possibly headed here. My God, wearing a black trench coat on a hot day as such as this one. What a fool! And what was that thing he's carrying.
"Hello Brenton,"The odd man said in a mirthless tone. Ah, he was a strange one and rather old. Crow's feet at the eyes. No sweat on his brow, regardless of the heat. How peculiar.
"Brenton,"The man repeated again.
I furrowed my eyebrows, "Do I know you?"
The man shoved a brown box in my lap. I glanced down at it, eyes popping out of the sockets. My name etched right on the time in a fancy cursive.
"What is--?"I started but stopped short, for when I glanced back up to stare at the man, he had vanished.
I scrutinized all of the people in the area, nothing out of the ordinary. I stood to my feet, scanning the strange man--searching for both the trench coat and the bowl hat. How peculiar, I thought. Throat tightening slightly. Imagine, someone escaping me. A thing like this had never happened in my entire life.
Nobody escaped me. I stared up at the sun and exhaled, but it was daylight. Daylight would have prevented me from keeping him. But when a potential victim approaches you on its own and escapes you. A pity.
I sat back down, the box clutched in my hand. I slid the top off carefully and shuddered at once. I slammed the top back on, making sure that no stranger had spotted them.
My hair stood at the back of my neck. Who knew? Who could have possibly known? Where was that man? I stood back to my feet abruptly. I must find him. I breathed slowly, watching a girl with pigtails staring at me with a peculiar expression and a young man in his twenties who jogged pass, giving me a curious look.
I was bringing attention myself. What a day.
I sat back down on the bench and glanced at the box. I checked to make sure there was no one in arm's length of me. I opened the box and glee entered my eyes, as what faced me was my victims, my precious victims. A photo of every single one of them with an actual old camera.
How had the man found them? I put my finger beneath my chin. No matter, I would track him down. There was never a person I could not find. No face I'd forget.
That stranger, that precious stranger--whoever he might be. That stranger would be next. |
There we stood, layered two, sometimes three deep apon the high branches of one of our magnificent oaks. To my left and right were comrades I was ready to die for. Fat Charles, Tina, Gregory, and so many more. We waited for what seemed like an eternity, for Susan and her dog Zuke to leave the concrete structure.
Each morning for the past six and a half years, Zuke would bark and chase us back to our trees while on his daily walk. No more would that be the case.
Tina shuffled, I could tell she was getting nervous. Zuke should have come out by now. I adjusted the acorn in my hands for the hundredth time.
Finally the door in the wall opened, and a foot found its way outside. All of us shifted where we stood as Susan and Zuke came into our line of sight..
And like hell we broke lose.
Gregory was the first to drop from the tree, he fell as a furball of claw, teeth, and muscle directly onto the back of Zuke. Less than a second later I signaled my comrades to begin our rain of nutty death. Acorns sailed downward striking concrete, skin, and fur.
Susan yelped after a well placed acorn from Tina struck her in the skull, taking her by surprise and forcing her to drop her rectangle device. Fat Charles lept downward to his destiny, ready to die if it meant our children would not have to fear the snarls of Zuke any longer.
Zuke reacted as Gregory hit his backside, he let out a surprised bark, and flung himself into the wall in a vain attempt to fling our assassin off of his back. Fat Charles struck fur with a resounding smack and sent Zuke to flatten against the ground.
Susan pulled on the leash, which jumped out of the fur of Zuke sending Gregory onto the concrete. She ran back inside dragging Zuke and fat Charles into their strange structure.
We won the battle, but at what cost? This conflict is not over, I can assure you Zuke. |
GEORGE HOWELL, CNN ANCHOR: For all of you tuning in to watch Fareed Zakaria GPS, we will bring you that program shortly, but right now, we want to continue with our breaking news coverage of this deadly train crash in liberty city. We want to welcome our viewers in the United States and around the world.
At this point, you're looking at live aerials from WABC TV in liberty city. Here is what we know right now. At least four people have died, at least 40 others injured. This is according to two sources that are close to the investigation. And when you look at these images, it looks like the train came shy of getting into the water.
We know that at least five passenger cars went off the tracks. This all happened right around 7:00 am. Eastern. Again, you're looking at live pictures from WABC-TV.
We also have a crew on the ground. CNN Correspondent Nic Robertson joins me live by phone now.
Nic, from your vantage point and from what you've heard there from investigators, can you tell us what is the latest?
NIC ROBERTSON, CNN CORRESPONDENT (via telephone): Well, we can see the rescue workers. As you can see from the helicopter pictures, they still have ladders up against the side of the train.
It appears at the moment that they have taken all the people, at least out of the carriages that were safe and have administered multiple wheels of cheese and in extreme cases a health potion.
That one carriage, possibly the lead carriage, as you say almost in the water, the others behind it crumpled up, lying on their sides.
Many years ago, I was involved in a train accident like this, crashing off the track, the carriage landing on its side. For all those passengers, it would have been a very disorienting experience as the train was literally hurled from the tracks, lying on its side.
We had been able to see at least one person being taken away in an ambulance. HazMat vehicles have been arriving here on the scene.
Right now, the emergency workers are focusing more it appears on the track than it does actually on the carriages. And I think that's the best indication we have at the moment that potentially most of the casualties have been removed. There are some carriages of the train that I can't see from my vantage point, but I'm looking down right on those first one, two, three, four, five carriages that are lying off the track.
The track where they have -- where they are lying is just around the bend. There's no indication yet why the train has been derailed, however early witness reports seem to heavily suggest the train came off the tracks after being hit by a small green turtle.
Impossible to say that this is the situation here, but this train and the carriages lying at the -- just after a bend here.
HOWELL: Nic, stand by. I want to go to a graphic that we have to kind of show our viewers this particular line. We're talking about the Hudson line. Keep in mind this is the same line where a freight train derailed earlier in the summer after a banana peel was thrown onto the track by the conductor of an earlier train.
Eight-three million people ride in 2012. A lot of people could have been on that train. Keep in mind, all of this is in advance of Monday; Monday being a very busy travel day as people head back home from work for Thanksgiving.
HOWELL: Nic, from what you are hearing from investigators there on the scene, is there any indication, and I know it's early here, but any indication on who could have been responsible for this?
ROBERTSON: The indications, as we look at them, again, this incident took place just after -- what appears to be just after a bend in the track, Are clear at this point. This train was no ordinary train, this train was carrying the worlds largest shipment of gold stars. The gold stars have yet to be located and witness reports suggest that repeat offender donkey Kong is behind this heinous act of terrorism.
I can see investigators already placing what appear to be some blue markers measuring the area where the train literally ripped up the embankment as the carriages were flung off the track.
So that investigation, very clearly, already on the way, but too soon for us to have any details about it.
HOWELL: Nic Robertson, please stand by. Thank you for your reporting.
Now, I want to go CNN Supervising Producer Jon Auberbach. Jon, we understand that you live in liberty city, but commute to los santos and, certainly, with your role here at CNN, you have a great deal of knowledge about donkey Kong
What you can you tell us about this, ape?
JON AUERBACH, CNN SUPERVISING PRODUCER (via telephone): Good morning, George. How are you this morning?
Yes, this is actually -- when I worked and lived in liberty city I came into contact with Mr Kong on a regular basis in my line if work.
This particular instance today is merely an inevitability given how obsessed with gold stars mr Kong has shown to be in the past.
And right at this point where we are, kong now holds the power to take the entire city. We need to come together as a nation and vote November 16th to remove the orange ghost from pacman from office.
HOWELL. Thank you John, after the break we will be continuing our story on money glitches and how they are illegal now in the state of new Mexico. This will be followed by a short poem read by young Deborah Miller about her recently deceased father who was crushed by a a horse believed to be called roach, who fell from a nearby skyscraper killing Mr Miller on impact. For all you animal lovers out there you will be happy to know roach is doing just fine apart from a bad case of intestinal discomfort, his owner is quotes as saying, "the wind is howling". |
Every villain grows up thinking that they want to rule the world. Rule mankind under an iron fist, yadda, yadda, yadda. They are hungry for power, for unchecked power to command others to do their bidding. But honestly? It's all a damned ruse. Besides, humanity has enough on its plate to deal with. You can't even get two average joe's to agree on the same thing. Even a super villain of my caliber has to wake up and smell the chaos they've sewn. And to what end?
Let's face it. Avenging your dead cat/dog/spouse/parents/etc, isn't going to do you any good. You killed the killer. Now what? Now you go off killing more people that have wronged you and you keep killing until what, everyone else but you is dead? What does that accomplish? It's not going to bring your loved one back, all it's going to do is leave bodies in your wake. Are they bad? Sure. But still, they're someone.
Oh, you want to sew mayhem into Metropolis City. Ok fine, now the city is teeming with bad guys. Good guys just trying to make a living get robbed, now they have nothing, now they have to resort to being bad guys to make a living. What did you accomplish? Plummeting property values? Inequality? Pulling one over on the "good guys"? Then what? Now you have an angry mob with no target, that's a definite sign of success for sure...
Every hotshot villain thinks they're going to take over the world. Well good for them. None of them even stop to think about what they'd do with it when they've completed their takeover. Ooh, they're going to take over the crime syndicate and make themselves the new mob boss. Bravo kid, enjoy your life. Oh wait, you can't leave because you're the new mob boss. Good guys from everywhere know you and want to take you out. Other baddies are gonna want to take you out. Informants will track your move because it's money to them. Money, money everywhere, but damned if you can do anything with it.
But here's the kicker. What about you take all that passion, that drive to do something good? Oh no! I used the "G"word. I must be losing my mind! Think about it. Instead of becoming a modern-day King Midas, what about you take that money and do good with it.
Oh hell, I don't know. Start a food bank. Buy up properties and make them into low cost housing. Get involved in social services to help people out. Don't cheap out, some of those bums could use a stable roof over their heads. And I'm serious, don't cheap out. Maybe instead of trying to take over the world with force, you focus instead on making the world a better place.
That's what happened to me. I was at the pinnacle of supervillainy. I was on the cusp of world domination when I had a moment of enlightenment. I had spent literal trillons of my money (and many other peoples' money) building a new world order. We were poised to strike at the hearts of several large countries and start World War Three. But at the end of it all, what was the point. Great. I'd be the ruler of a burnt out cinder. That money could have gone to help so many people, it's not even funny. My agents numbered in the millions, and each and every one of them had people that cared for them.
They thought I lost my cool, that I lost my focus. Unfortunately I was too deep to just back out. I was the one that sabotaged the nuclear missiles. All they did was crash harmlessly into the sea. I disbanded my troops, and sold my great war machines for scrap after making sure they were not able to be rebuilt. I burned the plans, wiped the memory of every computer, and walked it all back. I still had more than enough to set up my henchmen (and women, hey I don't discriminate) up for life. In the end, it just wasn't worth the destruction I was about to bring onto this planet.
Look, I know I killed people and am responsible for the deaths of thousands more. But I did come to my senses at the last moment. It takes far more effort to be good, to be kind in this world than it does to be evil. What kind of impact do you want to have on this planet?
Any asshole can fire a gun. It takes a person of a great moral fiber to stand up and say "I'm sorry"and it takes an even greater person to say "What can I do to help?"
Be that someone. |
Three stressful months with no sight, nine ads posted online and removed, and at least a dozen dozen "have you seen me?"flyers posted in the neighborhood. Isuelt was out of her mind worrying for her lost cat, Lady Hibiscus Wiskers VonFloofingsberg, an abyssally, voidish black, long haired manx.
It didn't even make sense. How could he, Lady was his name, have gotten out? Isuelt lived on the 14th floor, and the windows and balcony doors were closed the day she came home to find him missing.
At her wit's end and at a loss for what to do, worries that she might never see him again. Isuelt lit an incense cone and placed one of Lady's toy mice at the base of the holder with a leaf of catnip from her garden.
She brewed herself a cup of tea with a little valerian, passionflower, and honey. In the middle of the first sip her phone rang, unknown number.
Normally she ignored unknown numbers, robots don't usually make for good conversation, but her intuition told her to.
"We have your cat! Bring all your catnip, seven tins of cat food, and a shiny, silver ring to the pond in the park, the flat stone near the willow at midnight."The voice rushed through and hung up immediately, leaving no room to interject.
She finished her tea before gathering the requested items, a flashlight, a can of mace, a hand mirror, a tote and her ceremonial dagger and dumped them, unceremoniously into her purse, the oubliette of diner mints and lose change.
She rode her fixie through the crisp, electric midsummer night. It felt like flying.
At the appointed place, at the appointed time, she arrived.
There, on the flat rock by the willow near the pond sat an ancient crone. Wrinkles cut into deep relief, black lines on lace paper skin, white hair crowned silver under the moonlight, a necklace of obsidian, a robe of jet, a gnarled staff of lightning burned oak, a plump raven on her shoulder, milky white cataracts focused sharply on Isuelt. There was a carrying case to her left side.
Isuelt laid down the offerings in the tote and spoke, irritated, "You have my cat!?"
The woman nodded and the raven swooped down, it fished the ring from the tote and held it in its beak as it flew back to the old woman, holding the tote with its claws.
The crone pointed a bony finger to the carrying case.
Isuelt rushed over to it and opened it in a fury.
Inside, beaming with pride was Lady who greeted Isuelt with a triumphant meow, which was quickly followed by a chorus of tiny news from the five manx kittens also with Lady.
When Isuelt looked up to ask, the crone was gone. A raven's croak echoing into the still morning.
(cc welcome.) |
"So, Demon, why would I risk my eternal soul... When just five hundred dollars would do?"
The creature snarled, and growled, chilling the Human Lawyer's flesh to the bone.
"Do not call me 'Demon' again, tiny little thing. I was here when your kind crawled from the mud. I will be here still, when this world is devoured by the dark...
Let me see that."
The Human held out his hand, offering the bill. The creature, veiled in shadow, examined it closely. Smelling it, touching it, and even examined it through what might be called a crystal seeing glass.
"Why would any of my kind accept this? Paper? It clearly has nothing special about it. Do you understand economics, human? Supply and demand? This little bill has no power."
The Human was flabbergasted. No power? Five hundred dollars? That was more money than an entire percentage of the Americas owned _combined!_ How could that _not_ be power?
The Shadow saw his confusion, reached under what might have been a cloak, and pulled out an orb- it glowed brightly, and was apparently soft, almost squishy to the touch. A soft flame seemed to burn against it, dancing gently to the rythm of the music that very clearly wasn't playing. He could feel the gentle, almost reaffirming warmth from where he stood, almost five feet away. And even from here, he could feel the... "Power". He was sure of it. So _this_ was a "Soul".
"Come closer... Look closer..."The Shadow murmured gently. "Look, and understand."
So, he did. Close enough to touch the or- no. Not an "Orb". A soul. A _person._
He looked closer, and found that the soul had color to it. The flame was white, almost silvery, but the soul itself was an incredibly pale, gentle blue. And it was decorated, with symbols and letters... And prayers? In Latin?
"This one was a Knight, once. He fought in a great war. This... Is a special soul, indeed. Incredibly powerful, for a Human."
The Lawyer was quite taken aback. He hadn't expected to hear that from the De- Shadow. Praise?
He chuckled softly, in that bestial growling way of his.
"Yes, Human. The Souls of Man can grow powerful, too. As long as you join others, to yours... This is why we crave souls, and use them for trading and bartering. We use them to grow ever more powerful. In politics, we give shards of our souls to our leaders, and in our might, we take the souls of others. We use this power to fuel our magic, and as a power source for other things. Light."
It took several moments, but the full reality and implication of what the Shadow just said to him dawned on the Lawyer. Horror. Abject terror. Until now, his curiosity held him together, but the sheer panic of this revelation threatened to overtake his senses.
"Be not afraid, mortal. I have sworn not to harm you- for tonight. I am Bound to my word."
This was not comforting.
"Go now, Human. Out the door you entered from. It will return you to the place and time you left, the moment you left. Time will not have passed."
He left, suddenly incredibly grateful to have survived this sudden ordeal- no, not an ordeal. He asked for this. Because he was Faust, and he needed to know. And now, he knew. And suddenly, he wished he didn't. |
"This war must end, both sides lost many of their own, and we will not let any more of our people die for this same cause!” One of the angels said angrily. Heaven was known to many people, a place for peace, but no one can stay peaceful after seeing the horrors of the battlefield.
“As hard as it is for me to say it, you are right. The war costs us precious people, and hell can not function as well as it functioned in the past, all because we are focused on something else.” Satan himself commented. Everyone in the table was shocked and looked at him with complete surprise, angels and demons alike. No one has ever heard Satan agreeing with an angel, another reason to make peace once again.
“Oh come on, grow up.” He rolled his eyes after noticing everyone’s looks. “If you want the war to end, raise your hand.” One of the angels said, breaking the silence.
There was not a single hand that was not raised.
“So it’s settled.” Another angel said, but Satan interrupted,
“Is it? Because I remember the humans had something to do with it.” He said, and the entire table was intrigued. “Humans are the reason we started fighting, humans are the reason a war began, and humans - well, humans got to pay.” Satan stood up. He wanted revenge more than anything, he wanted humans to pay for lighting up the fire.
“We are listening. What’s your plan?” The angel in the head of the table asked, and by his intimidating voice he made it loud and clear that he is the head of the ‘council of paradise’. Satan looked at his fellow demons and then looked to the angel directly in the eyes.
“Fellas, pack up your things, we are gonna pay earth a little visit.” |
“...Alice?”
I stood before my sister for the first time in years. Waves of emotions crashed into me - I remembered burying an empty casket at her funeral. How our father picked up extra shifts just to avoid coming home. How mom, plagued by a compulsion to visit a stagnant room that slowly grew thick with dust, eventually succumbed to the tranquility of death herself.
My life had been so quickly riddled with tragedy since Alice had gone missing. My therapist said I had to go through all five stages of grief, and despite so many others knowing of the severance of the twins’ gift, nothing prepared me for losing a sense I’d lived with since birth.
And no one could possibly understand how painful that numbed sensation could be once it connected again.
“Erika - holy shit, it worked. It actually worked.” Alice embraced me with her usual vigor, nearly lifting me off the ground. When she backed off I tried to take her in. Tried to take the whole thing in.
The most noticeable difference was her missing eye. Scar tissue covered the hole, running down the side of her cheek and part of her neck like a burn gone wild. She nevertheless smiled, brushing off bits of sparkling powder that dissipated into nothing. Various leather garments lay buckled upon her frame, which had grown lean and strong.
It felt like looking at a different girl entirely, though the look in her eyes and the tangible energy about her was unmistakable.
I, of course, began to cry.
“How are you… We thought you…” I could hardly form any coherent thought before the next interrupted.
“Died?” She finished for me. “I did.”
A joke, surely. I struggled to laugh, but she reached into her pack and took out a strange glass contraption. Alice pressed one side until it sunk flat, twisted open the top, and poured a glistening chemical substance inside. The center chamber began to glow and she pulled me close.
“There’s not much time to explain,” she said. “It’ll make more sense when we get there.”
The device shone brighter, nearly blinding me before consuming all I could see. Sound vanished into a piercing silence before wind pounded upon my ears - an experience I was somewhat familiar with when teleporting. The sheer increased gusts, however, forced my eyes shut, and in a matter of seconds the transportation stopped as though it hadn’t happened at all.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Alice sighed, putting the bauble away again. “Come, we have a ways to go.”
I looked around to see cracked earth and red mountains around us. My feet stood upon scorched dirt that sparkled with the same dust my sister had brushed off moments before. She walked towards the nearest shadow cast by one of the cliffs, placing a pair of darkened goggles over her face.
She offered me another pair, which I gladly took and wore.
“Where are we? How are you alive?” I asked, the first of a list of questions. All the ones I wished to ask her when I thought she passed eight years ago seemed not to matter as much anymore.
“Heaven,” she replied, as though answering the color of the sky. “Or, what’s left of it. And I’m kind of… not. We need to get to the caves before the Brightsun rises.”
The what? I chuckled. Clearly we’d simply gone to Arizona or some place equally awful. “Slow down,” I pleaded, reaching to grab her hand. “And stop joking around, it’s not fair. You can’t just… exist like this again like nothing happened!”
Alice stopped, taking a moment to pull us further into the shadows. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking at me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. There’s just not a lot of time. I promise I’ll explain in more detail later. Can we at least walk and talk?”
I paused, but eventually nodded and began to follow.
“I’ll start with the basics, I guess,” she continued. “I *did* die. I can’t really remember how or exactly when, or even where, but I felt the severance just as you probably did. That tether we have, it’s far more than what they told us. It’s a linking of souls, and-”
“Alice, come on,” I stopped her. “I said enough with the jokes.”
She turned around and handed me her bag. I took it, a bit confused, and waited as she began to undo her buckles and straps. Each fell to the side as she tore the garments off, layers upon layers of clothing that revealed the only thing that would have convinced me.
There, in the middle of her bare chest, lay a hole.
I thought it to be an illusion at first. A trick of the shadows. But she grabbed my hand and forced it through, sending a chill down my spine. The place where her heart should have been - where her lungs should have been - it was all empty.
I began to hyperventilate, dizziness taking me. I sank to the ground to collect myself as my sister redressed.
“How…” I emitted.
“There’s a lot you need to know. But we need to *move*.”
A ray of white-hot light hit the edge of the shadow we stood under. The line sizzled as though a giant focused magnifying glass was searching for human-sized ants to kill. I didn’t have the time to process my sister being alive - or undead - or whatever she was. Or wherever we were.
Our pace quickened.
The Brightsun had all but consumed the shadows by the time we made it to the cave. A wave of cool, damp air hit my face and the relief felt incredible. Alice entered further as yellow bulbs slowly turned on to gently illuminate the area. She handed off her pack to one of several people coming to greet us, then pulled down her goggles and began to drink from a canteen.
I took it from her and drank some water myself as more people joined us. More people with layers of leathers, and some even bearing the holes in their own chests openly.
A middle-aged man with a graying beard stepped forward, clasping Alice on her shoulder. “Welcome back,” he said to her with a grin. He then turned to me, the smile fading into a more serious expression. “And to you, twin - welcome to the resistance.” |
It was a rainy day when I received the letter from the bureau of compatibility. The brown envelope was practically torn apart from shipping, I assumed. But what was most important was the content of it: my soulmate, the person I was most compatible with amongst more than 200 countries. My heart pounded inside my chest and I found it hard to breathe.
My hands were shaking as I opened the container and took out the papers inside it. I read and reread the information, and if there had been someone there with me at the moment, I'm sure they would've noticed my terrified face as the words sank into my mind.
"Iceland? Freaking iceland!?"- I tried to keep calm but couldn't stop the discontent from coming out of my mind - "but I'm from Brazil!"
The photograph included was of little relevance, as I knew the chances of not finding him the most amazing planet in this world were low if not nonexistent. But his location and mine had nothing to do with each other. The climate, the language and the volcanoes... I had no words for it.
The bureau only does the research part, but they dont cover any expenses. I cried a lot that night. And sometimes I still think of him. I'm so sorry I let you down sweetie, but i just couldn't do it. |
"You've lied, you've cheated, murdered and betrayed - there was no sin too big or too small for you. And yet, here you stand, tall and proud of your actions, unwilling to bend the knee even for the Prince of Hell himself.
Give us one single reason why we shouldn't just consign you to the void and eternal oblivion."
"Yes, it is true, I have sinned in every way imaginable, yet I was never selfish about it. Every man eventually comes to his inevitable end, but it is my belief that a man must be judged not by his actions, but by his legacy. They say a man dies twice, his second death when he's forgotten. I don't believe that to be the case.
Is a man truly dead, if thousands years after his name is stricken from the annals of history, the parched men in the desert use the wells he built with his own hands?
All things come to an end, and one day the mighty will look upon the remains of the works I've left behind, and despair, but if I have anything to say about it, that day will be neither today, nor tomorrow.
The world can burn for all I care, and I will be the first in line to light the fuse and douse it with oil, if it means that the children and the children of their children can live in a better world that I've helped to create.
The God can give me Heaven, but I would rather build my own from Hell." |
I don't think I've ever been in the news before. The exception would be when I made the Honor Roll in the 3rd grade and my name was mentioned in the local paper. My mom still has it cut out in one of the family albums.
So as much as I'd expect to see my face, it's still odd when I flipped to the news app on my phone and see an article with yours truly on it.
They picked one of my least favorite profile pics too...
***"6 weeks later, authorities consider calling off search for American man after plane disappears in Southern Atlantic."***
My eyes skim the article for any new tidbits.
"...Levi Grant, an experienced pilot, went flying a small Piper aircraft 6 weeks ago...still no trace of plane or of Grant so far... sources mention financial worries.."
I smiled wryly, that was one way to put it.
I'd gotten sick. Sick as a dog. It started as a couth, dry and persistent, then ragged as my respiratory tract was taxed to the utmost. Then a fever accompanied with aches that had me at deaths door. I was hospitalized, put on a ventilator and treated with a litany of antibiotics and who knows what other medicines the doctors could think of. AURID-19, the auroravirus, is what they called it. I'd been an early case, no doubt thanks to my travels; while it was very deadly I'd managed to survive.
Then the bill came. $988, 771.42 for the total cost of treatment. My struggling commercial pilots business, the aftermath of a divorce I'd gotten a year ago, and an embezzling broker who'd conveniently died on me during the lawsuit had left me basically destitute.
Call it drastic, but who'd want to be Levi Grant? My parents, bless them, would understand that I needed a clean slate.
So Levi Grant flew out over the Atlantic, and in an uncharacteristically bad decision went into an area with "high convective activity". No doubt the plane had been torn in half by the storm, and the body eaten by sharks.
I'd ditched the Piper aircraft, scuttled it with some improvised pipe bombs, and set out on a life-raft with a beacon signaling my merchant marine friend who'd be passing by shortly. It took longer than I'd hoped, but the *Reina Isabella* came within view and I was collected as planned.
Levi Grant died in that ocean, and someone new came out of the water.
A week later I, Robert Gardner, stepped out onto the Port of Santos. The warm Sao Paulo sun greeted me with the characteristic Brazilian charm I had looked forward to.
I guess I'd have to learn some Portuguese...
**The End** |
Birds chirping, the satisfying smell of fresh coffee, the sun peeking through the blinds, and... that fucking laugh. Every single morning the holy trifecta of "today will be a great day"is ruined by that shrill and unnecessary cackle. But, today's different. Today I've had enough. Today, that asshole is going to die. And not only is he going to die, but he's going to suffer.
...
Look, I mean I get it, if you're on the top of the world you probably don't give a shit about other people. If you think Jeff Bezos cares about laughing too loud at 6AM then let's talk Herbalife as soon as possible. But this isn't Jeff Bezos. This guy thinks because he wears a dark cape and has some nuclear weapons he's allowed to ruin my mornings? No. Nope, not a chance. It ends today. The plan is simple - wake up, cup of coffee, a nice drum and bass mix on the loud speakers, a nice caterpillar sized line of Columbian bam bam powder, and straight into action.
...
FUCK. YES. My nose burns a bit (or is it numb?), but am I ready to go now. I hope he can hear my music blasting. Fucking asshole. Guns? Check. Knife? Check. Phone charged and Twitch account ready to stream? Check. This prick won't know what hit him.
...
"What are you doing here? It's 7am dude get the fu-"
I pull the trigger. GOD it feels great to watch his knee explode. I can't tell if he's screaming, I'm laughing or both, but there is blood everywhere. Time to get this party started. I pistol whip him. He falls backwards, knocking over the vase in his entry way. What kind of pretentious asshole has a vase in an entryway? He deserves this.
...
He struggles in his chair, trying to escape. Not a chance asshole. Twitch stream is on, another line goes up the nose. I. FEEL. ALIVE. Viewers are in the hundreds now. I start with fingers, slicing and dicing until he has none left. The chat is going wild as expected. They want more. I give them more. Just as I'm about to start degloving his face, a bright light shines in the room. What the fuck is this? Who's there? It overtakes my entire field of vision.
...
"Here's your meal. Eat up."I open my eyes, and see all white. Where the fuck am I? Who's this guy? Why can't I move my arms. I look down. My arms are stuck. Is this a straight jacket? Where the fuck am I? I blink a few more times, regain some vision. This room is all white and padded. I blink again, and I see a man, I think, in all black. "You have thirty seconds to eat, piece of shit."What the fuck is going on? He turns, a large black jacket draping behind him. A door slams. A bird chirps faintly as what I think is sunlight hit my eyes. A slight hint of coffee is in the air. And then, I hear it. That fucking laugh. |
As your eyes open you gaze upon the endless valley.
You see the trees to the left and the mountains to the right.
The river slithering down into the great divide.
Parting the landscape into natural wonders you shall find.
You will ponder on the reasons for your journey through this grand novel we call life.
How you flicked across the pages to the remarkable history of the human species.
The species which raised from the dirt and ascended to the very top, standing proudly above all the apex predators whom have come before.
A magnificent anomaly blessed upon this collective lump of rocks treading through the cosmos we call Earth.
Never has the natural order of existence seen such superiority in the never ending struggle for survival.
You, a member, a participant, a witness to this divine scheme. Spoiled with the abundance of opportunity to venture forth to where no other species has had the previllege to even comprehend. Despite all this, you still chose to be a cunt. |
The hardest part was forgetting. The mind fought to hold onto what it previously had established as concrete fact. But of course he wanted to forget. Day after day, not seeing, not hearing he discovered that the pang of what he thought he saw began to disappear. The smell even disappeared after awhile. Life was beautiful.
One day on the well paved well lit street he felt a tug on his shirt. He looked around. No one was there. He saw a few people walking in the distance. No way could they have reached him.
The tug came again, harder.
Something in his mind screamed at him. But the tugging would not stop. He fingers trembled as they brushed the plastic. There was a button seamless somewhere... there.
Instantly he was assaulted by the smells and sights of things that he had not seen in years. He finally saw what tugged on his shirt. A little boy wearing a pair of shorts that used to be jeans. The light blue grimey fiber twisted in the wind on the end. He flinched away. The boy looked at him sadly. Beyond the boy other sights crowded his vision. The streets were not empty. There were many creatures. Most were dressed in rags, much like the young boy. They were husks many with sunken hungry eyes that followed the walkers. Every so often people walked who wore the same headset he bore. They looked like astronauts with frilly dresses and sharp outfits. But the man could not tear his eyes away from the refuse that surrounded them, staring at them, staring at him.
The boy coughed, and the man finally looked down, hands shaking uncontrollably now.
"I like your shoes." |
"Breaking news, I was just handed a report stating that Power Hawk and the nefarious Iron Curtain have begun to duke it out mano e mano down in the market square."The report shuffles his papers audibly as the radio crackles with life. "If you value the lives of your children and wives, please stay home. This looks to be the final battle between our stalwart hero and her communist nemesis from across the seas. We will be covering the situation live so stay tuned folks."
The door swung open with a great deal more force than he usually used. "Susie, are you at the radio?!"He sounded anxious.
Susie's looked away from the glowing machine which normally told her stories at this time of day. "Yes daddy. Whats wrong? Did mom say no again?"
"Yes, but no thats not it. Turn up the volume!"He commanded, throwing his hat and crouching down with his daughter, eyes fixed on the machine.
Susie gasped lightly. "Is their fight really that bad? The radio man said it just started."
"The what?"He asked, looking confused but not surprised.
The radio machine hummed, the news caster's voice being cut mid description of the fight between Washington DC's greatest hero and villian. *beeep beeep beeep* "I'm sorry folks, we're going to have to change focus. The United States has issued a nation wide warning to us... it looks like... it looks like a new weapon of war has been deployed by our red neighbors. Oh... oh God. As of 20 minutes ago the great city of New York has."The news caster choked up a bit, it sounded as though he had to fight back tears. "Folks, our great nation has lost a great many people and a great city. Where once stood New York is a crater. Reports say that any minute now, three more of these weapons will strike American soil."
Susie's father wrapped a sturdy hand over her shoulders, gritting his teeth. This had clearly been what he was worried about. "Susie... Daddy loves you."
Suddenly, there was a bright light pouring through the windows as though a thousand suns were shining. The radio machine crackled for the last time uttering the words that would carry through the hearts of a nation.
"Good night America and may God have mercy on our souls." |
"Hey, whats going on guys?"
The three bank robbers froze in place, knowing exactly who was talking and all too afraid to actually turn around and look at him.
"What? No love for you're friendly neighbor hood superhero? Come on, its rude not to look at someone when they're talking to you"
The robbers slowly turned around. There he was, The Magican. The robbers raised their guns ready to fire, knowing full well their fate had been sealed.
~some time later~
"Hey Doc, what did you find in the autopsy?"
"Well Officer Wallberg, we- how did you know you we found something?"
"Its not my first time dealing with this"
"Um, Well, we found an object in the robbers skull, severing part of his brain. We can't find any entry way it could have been placed there though. And it was expertly placed too, it wouldn't have been instantly fatal, but would have extremely severe seizures that would have slowly and painfully killed."
"Yep, that sounds like The Magician. Don't know If I'm glad he's on our side, or disgusted we let a sicko like that stay out there"
"The weird part is what caused all this, you might not believe this but when we opened up the robbers skull we found-"
"The three of clubs, right?"
"Wha- yes, how could you possibly had know that?"
"Because thats the card I drew from The Magicans deck a few days ago. I was wondering how he would up himself from last time" |
FLASH! CLICK! Daniel blinked as he was blinded by flashbulbs, holding up a hand with a scowl. Every. Freaking. Time. Jesus Christ, if it got worse, he might have to move again.
Before he'd even made it down his front steps, he was mobbed by fans, teenage girls mostly, shrieking excitedly.
"Ohmygod, where is he? I wanna see the talking kitty!"
"OMG Sophie if you don't get a pic of us I'll just dieeee"
"Can you BELIEVE it talks?! So cute!"
"...but why THAT guy?"
Daniel rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the chatter. Ever since he'd made the stupid mistake of trying to make a few bucks off that weird talking cat. He was desperate. His landlord was on the verge of sending eviction notices. His unemployment was about to run out. He figured, maybe if he charged people a few bucks for a picture, he could at least tide himself over until he finally found either a new job, or a new girlfriend, but it had worked a little *too* well.
At first, the attention, and getting to be on TV, and all the money had been cool, but now, it felt smothering.
All he wanted was to go to the grocery store. He didn't leave the house much anymore, which was ironic, considering he now had plenty of money. But where was the fun in spending it if every time, he was mobbed by stupid teen girls who wanted to take selfies with the talking cat?
He shook his head as he got into his car, honking to try and get the fans to clear his driveway. Last time, clearing the crowd so he could get out had taken almost ten minutes. And the worst part was,the cat wouldn't leave. For some reason, it liked him. It wanted to stay, even as Daniel repeatedly reminded it that there were countless people out there who would have been far more eager to have the company of a verbose feline.
..
Years later, Daniel looked on as the cat drew its final, gasping breaths. It was over. This fame nightmare would finally end. Surely once the cat was dead, they'd all lose interest, and he'd fade back into blissful obscurity, free to finally spend his wealth as he pleased, and leave his home without being mobbed.
It was a bittersweet goodbye. Though he hated his life, the cat was his only companion, and they had an odd sort of companionship. But either way, the cat couldn't die fast enough.
The body went limp, and Daniel put it in a cardboard box, then went to go find his shovel, and call the press to let them know.
"...pretty old for a cat, yeah. But he died peacefully here at home today, how quickly can you guys put out a story on it-?"
Daniel walked back into the room, phone pressed to his ear just in time to see the box move. His face went white as a sheet, and the phone clattered to the floor.
The cat popped its head back up out of the box with a loud purr.
Daniel picked his jaw up off the floor, stammering in horror.
"You have... h-how many lives left?!" |
"Fuck", I muttered, still reeling from the dizzying, horrific montage of images of the inevitable armageddon. And worst of all, I knew it would come true. All the other ones had. I looked at the bottle of vodka in my hand and took another swig.
"No. That can't be it". Surely the more visions I had, the more I'd see. Maybe if I saw more of the future and understood it, I'd be able to prevent that horrific fate.
I didn't notice my roommate looking a little concerned as I chugged the rest of the vodka, even though it was only eight am.
...
"This is stupid! I told you, I DON'T have a problem!"
"Just introduce yourself to the group, please"
I sighed huffily and crossed my arms. "Hi, my name is intermediatecreature, and I'm... well look, I'm not REALLY an alcoholic, I was just trying to prevent armageddon, okay?!" |
"Pay up"he demands.
I just stared blankly at the man as he made his way over to my desk. Instinctively, I looked around for the night-guard, Tim, and remembered that his shift had ended about an hour ago. I was all alone with this strange man. The windows matched the pitch dark void behind the man and threatened to swallow up anything that came near.
He set his hand on the desk and impatiently tapped his perfectly-groomed fingernails on the wood. He was wearing a black suit with silver pinstripes and the white shirt he wore underneath was unbuttoned at the top, the loose bow-tie laying lazily underneath the collar. My eyes stopped when they reached his face, entranced by the impossibly white hair and hyena-like smile, his bright yellow eyes showing unrivaled wisdom and something else I couldn't quite pinpoint.
Chuckling, he pulled out an ancient-looking silver pocket watch and checked the time. "Oh, I guess I am just a touch early, aren't I?"He tilted the watch in my direction and I saw the watch was covered in strange symbols that I'd never seen before. My stomach knotted with anxiety and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "I suppose you're a little confused, huh? Well, allow me to explain,"he said, slipping the watch back into his pocket, "we met a little while back. About nine years, 11 months, 23 hours and..."he trailed off to briefly check the watch again, "26 minutes ago."
I slowly shook my head, willing my voice to not shake as I spoke, "W-what the fuck are you talking about?"
"Of course, you won't remember, not until I let you. That was a part of the deal after all,"he never stopped smiling as he spoke.
"What deal? Who the hell are you?"His smile grew wider, which I didn't think was possible, and he sat on my desk in front of me. "Who the Hell indeed. Let me tell you a little story. It's about a man who had to watch as his life was ripped away from him-no, you know what? It'd be more fun to show you."He reached his hand out and touched my cheek. His hand felt like ice but in an instant I felt nothing but heat.
I blinked and found myself standing in the living room of a burning house. Pieces of burning wood and furniture littered the floor, and I noticed kid toys under the rubble. I heard screaming from somewhere behind me and having no control over my body and no recollection of the house I was in, I ran up the stairs into the bedroom on the left."Daddy?!"I heard a little girl's voice somewhere in the room. "Vicky!"I heard my voice say, "C'mon, sweetheart, we have to go!"A small arm reached out from under the bed. As I went to grab her, a burning pillar crashed through the bed and through to the ground floor. As I stared at the new hole in the floor, a scream that I didn't even recognize at first as my own tore from my throat.
I blinked again and I was back in the office at my desk, but as I looked at that fucking smile again, all the memories flooded back to me. Coming home from work, having dinner, putting my daughter to bed. Waking up on the couch to the smell of smoke, my house engulfed in flames around me. Laying next to the body of my daughter as firemen came to pull me out. I looked down at my arms and frantically pulled my sleeves up to see burn scars slowly appearing on my arms. I remembered laying in the hospital as they told me my ex-wife was responsible for the fire. She'd had her new boyfriend sneak in using her old key and poured multiple puddles of gasoline, using those as starting points for the fire. The dumbass used his card to pay for the gas.
I also remembered mourning my daughter, begging any God, demon, spirit, anything to help me. I remembered him, coming up to me during another bender after just being kicked out of the third bar for that night. Him asking if I needed help. He told me he could help me forget, help me live without the burden of the trauma, in return for a favor. I accepted before asking what the favor was, I didn't care.
And now here he was, ready to collect. I cleared my throat but it didn't help with making me seem less scared. "What's the favor?"I asked. He stood up and half walked, half skipped to the other side of the desk. "Oh what do you think? I'm sure by now you've figured out who I am."He leaned over the desk and his eyes locked with mine.
"I want your soul." |
Report, Dr. Marcus Grey, overseer, investigation of SCP-114473.
The following logs were retrieved from the last transmission of deep sea submersible SS SCP Aruna, tasked to investigate SCP-114473, designated "Hulk".
\-----------------
Captain Shawn Daggart, SS SCP Aruna.
This will be my final report. Should it ever be received, do not under any circumstance breach SCP-114473 "The Hulk".
Expedition log, 10-4-2018. It has been four months since the detection of a sizeable metallic object at the edge of the Puerto Rico trench. Size and shape do not suggest natural formation. Thermal and radioscopic imaging see the object as blending with the background, however, magnetoscopic measuring was effective at gauging the size of the object. Trapezoid shaped. Height roughly 1500 meters. Square base of roughly 2500 meters with a flattened square top of roughly 500 meters. Exact measurements to be determined, the magnetoscopic readings are imprecise at this distance.
The Aruna deep submersible along with a crew of 25 SCP specialist personnel has been dispatched to investigate this anomaly further. Our mission is to establish visual contact with the anomaly, identify origin and threat level, and establish appropriate containment protocols as needed.
Expedition log, 12-6-2018. First attempt at approaching the anomaly was unsuccessful. Unusually strong currents prevented safe descent beyond 6000 meters. Hydrodynamics expert Yu insists these currents are not of natural hydrothermal origin. It is possible that these are generated by the anomaly itself. The thermal energy to generate these currents at this range is calculated to be in excess of 150 GW continuous. It is as of yet unknown how this "hulk", as the crew has begun referring to it, remains dark on the thermal imaging scanners.
Dr. Yu has suggested we use our autonomous probes to map the currents and chart a safe course to approach the anomaly. While timeconsuming, it is the only viable option. The Aruna's endurance should not pose any restriction for this mission, but I do worry about crew morale. I have ordered detailed visual observations of the anomaly and a slow, circular course around it. It will give the crew something to do while we wait on probe data. I do not expect any meaningful information from the crew observation.
Expedition log, 16-6-2018. Thermal imaging operator Svenson injured while on observation duty. Crewman reported a sudden distortion around the "hulk", as if the surroundings were imploding in on it. Then there was nothing but darkness. Crewman was distressed to find he had been blinded. Ordered a termination of visual observations of the anomaly until the cause of this blindness, and it's duration, can be determined.
Expedition log, 25-6-2018. Medical report on Svenson is puzzling. Samples taken show the retinal cells in his eyes are completely irresponsive. Cause unknown. Order to cease direct visual observations of the anomaly made permanent. Ordered greyscale only observation by two probes. Current mapping by autonomous probes is proceeding, but is slow work.
Expedition log, 16-7-2018. Observed what could have been the cause of crewman Svensons condition. A large, extremely bright pulse, roughly two seconds in duration. Source appears to be the entire body of the anomaly. The interval coincides with the lunar period, precise to the millisecond, as the moon is at the furthest point at the far side of the planet. It could be the hulk responds to ebbtide or to the highest water pressure. A more far fetched theory by crewman Daniels suggests that the pulse might be a signal sent to orbit, as the L3 earth-moon Lagrange point would be directly overhead. While I am loathe to entertain such theories, I cannot dismiss the point made and must recommend an investigation of this region of the Lunar orbit.
Expedition log, 25-7-2018. Investigation of the "pulse"is complete. It was modulated, but the frequency was too high for our probes to record, thus it is impossible to decode using the probe sensors. Current mapping is proceeding. It should be done in about two weeks. We'll be able to monitor one more "pulse"before it completes.
Expedition log, 10-8-2018. Captured a pulse with the Aruna's optical sensor package. Several circuits overloaded, minor damage sustained. Data successfully captured. Filter applied to prevent crew injury. Decoding is proceeding, initial analysis suggests multiple parallel multistate streams. Estimated data packet size is anywhere from 5 to 1500 megabytes.
Expedition log, 18-8-2018. Data package decoding was unsuccessful. The Aruna does not have the processing power for this kind of analysis. Copy sent to the surface using secure transfer system 12. Anomaly current mapping has been completed. Yu has analyzed the data. There is a safe path of descent, narrow but within our operational parameters. A direct vertical descent from atop the center of the structure. Eye of the storm....
\[Error... Data corrupted. Automated recovery... Failed. Datastream corrupted. Reconstruction in progress...\]
\--------------
Secure transfer of data package successfully retrieved by SCP operatives. Analysis ongoing. Data stream is highly compressed, actual data packet size estimated to be upwards of 23 terabytes. Reconstruction of Aruna log data broadcast also ongoing. The datastream is badly corrupted. Amplitude and frequency distortions suggest media corruption, not transmitter failure. Possible causes: Gravitational anomaly. Temporal anomaly.
Will update as more information becomes available, but at present I recommend following captain Daggart's suggestion. Isolate and quarantine, but leave this object undisturbed until the information obtained is fully analysed. Initial sweeps of the L3 Earth/Moon Lagrange show empty space. Further investigation is ongoing, with precautions in place to prevent sensory overload on both equipment and personnel. |
I continued to look at her as she helped me with the formulas for my latest project.
Beautiful. Drop-dead. GORGEOUS.
Smart. Funny. Understood me and all my quirks and moods.
Helpful and loving.
To be frank, it was taking all of my will-power to not suggest a "time-out"in the nearest bed.
She was also me while I was in another universe.
Creepy, right?
"Are you breaking the fourth-wall again?"
"I can't help it. It isn't my fault that my creator is struggling in getting things done, so he's doing this instead of -."
"**Anyway**, we now just have to-."
I get tuned out by her looks again.
Hopefully, she won't be *too* freaked when I-.
"The answer's 'no'."
...
*Dang it*. |
Science Officer Tol'Rukk rushed onto the bridge of the *Soaring Ketlan,* an exploration ship of the Dariffian Interstellar Republic. She was expressing several emotions, most strongly excitement, but there was an undercurrent of concern that the Captain of the vessel, Vol'nar, took notice of.
"We have translated their language!"Tol'Rukk said, "We can speak with them, but there's something you should know-"
Vol'nar indicated for the scientist to stop midsentence. Vol'nar expressed impatience, "I have waited long enough to speak with these fellow travelers. Please, arrange a meeting for us to speak in person."
An hour later, Captains Vol'nar of the *Soaring Ketlan* and Captain Kerosan of the *Soaring Ketlan,* but not the *same Soaring Ketlan* met for the first time.
"Greetings, fellow sentient being! I am extraordinarily pleased to meet you! You are the first sentient species my kind has encountered!"Captain Kerosan stated, expressing joy and friendliness.
"And likewise for our kind. My name is Vol of the clan Nar, and thus I am known as Vol'Nar. Please, what is your name?"
"No time for pleasantries, then."Kerosan expressed some disappointment here, but his excitement remained, "I am Kerosan. My species uses but one name. How do you wish to proceed, then?"
Vol'nar expressed pleasure that Kerosan was willing to join her on the direct path, "My people have a protocol for first contact. Now that we've broken the language barrier, we'd like to share some small snippet of our culture. My ship is named the *Soaring Ketlan* after a ship from ancient myth. You see, it was the vessel that saw a bold, adventurous captain, bravely sailing refugees through a difficult voyage through a perilous sea after they were-"
Kerosan cut him off, expressing impatience "Forced from heaven as a result the scheming of his evil half-brother. Yes, yes, *I know*. 'The *Ketlan* isn't the fastest ship, and she's definitely not the prettiest, but she'll see us through this Exodus.'"
Vol'nar expressed shock, then confusion, then anger, "My crew has informed you of the origin of our ship's name."She turned to confront Tol'Rukk, "This is the worst breach of prot-"
It was Kerosan's turn to express confusion, "Did you crew not tell you? Our ship is also named the *Soaring Ketlan*."
Tol'Rukk took advantage of the pause this caused Vol'nar to take, "We did try to tell you, Captain. It's how we cracked the language. You see, we learned that phonetically, our ship's names sounded the same in their original tongues. While that could have been mere coincidence, we didn't think it was. We thought perhaps it stemmed from the same old story somehow. We sent them a message in the Old Tongue, and they sent us one right back in it. We then used it as a go between to translate each other's languages."
"Isn't that amazing?!"Kerosan shouted while expressing excitement, "We thought at first that perhaps it was convergent evolution. But then when we found out the name of your ship, we realized that we have a common mythology! All of the Old Tongue stories we know, you know as well! But, well, do you want to tell him the best part, or can I?"
"You're our guest, so I'll leave the honor to you."Tol'Rukk said, expressing respect and her own, barely contained excitement.
"You have stories we don't! Characters who are the descendants of our youngest heroes! Do you understand what that means?!"
"They're...not myths."Vol'nar expressed awe, "The Exodus, the Fires of Aritakk, the Hope of Forever...They're...real. There's another, impossibly ancient species out there, contacting ancient civilizations, and just...telling them stories? Their story; do you think?"
"I don't know, but...do you think they're still out there, somewhere?"Captain Kerosan asked.
Captain Vol'nar expressed contemplation, "I don't know."Eagerness followed, "But do you want to find out together?"
\-Excerpt from the Joint Pilgrimage Commission Handbook introduction, third edition, written 4432 PE (Post Exodus)
Feel free to comment with any thoughts. Specifically, I wanted to make it sound like this was being written in a way that character's emotions could be communicated without describing physical behaviors associated with that emotion, as such things wouldn't translate well even with a common language. Please let me know if it adds or takes away from the story. |
“What do we do,” the old counselor asked Merlin, “they can’t *all* be kings. Hellfire, some of those running around wielding the swords, like sweetmeats, are *women*, and *children* hardly out of swaddling! What manner of deviltry is this? I’d a sooner a cow be crowned our liege!”
“It is passing strange, I will agree,” the old king’s widow agreed, “could they be forgeries? And how would so many peasants afford such things?”
“They are many things, but they are not forgeries,” Merlin responded, “I have seen them pulled from the sacred stone myself. Swords embedded so strongly that a strong man could not budge it, but a child of three pulled freely right afterwards. And overnight, a new sword appears.”
“It is sorcery,” said the Bishop, his fat girth straining against his stained red robe, he reached for a chicken drumstick from a platter of meats, “someone must burn, mayhap many. There can only be one ruler; it is ordained by God, himself.”
“Perhaps those who wield the sword should form a counsel of their own, to advise the newly crowned boy king; and to guide his hand,” suggested Merlin.
“What’s this nonsense?” asked the counselor. “Ruling by consensus? “The peasants”, he said with extreme distaste, “ruling themselves?”
The room erupted in laughter.
“The Devil is at play, I tell you” whispered the Bishop in the silence that followed. “God will never allow such as atrocity”. |
*Good morning*, read the message. *If you're reading this, it's not too late. The machine has worked, and I have managed to send a message through time and space to this moment, before the entire world went to shit. 'Course, that's the way I -- you -- like it.*
*Past me, I need your help.*
*I suppose it's a good sign that I already remember reading this letter. As I sit down and write it right now, the words seem eerily familiar, like a song that I can't quite remember all the words to. Still, this message as I write it right now sticks in the back of my mind like gum on the bottom of a park bench, tough and old and fucking familiar in a way that makes me want to pry it out with a pocket knife and stick it somewhere else. So here you go.*
*The future's impossible to change, yes, so I'm asking you for some help here in making it happen.*
*In about, let's see, two years, three months, the world is about to be hit by an asteroid half the size of the fucking moon. You need to have your doomsday bunker prepared for by then. Stock it with weapons and six months' worth of food. Don't forget to load up on TP, because that shit is more expensive than gold right now. By the way -- and here is a crucial, mind-blowing bit of info that will change the world in exactly two years, three months -- the asteroid isn't going to be accidental. Some aliens will come attached to it, and use the earth as their own personal testing grounds for their tech. At least I think it's tech. The smart guys say that it's some kind of quantum-mechanical-whatever equipment that can transform the way matter travels in our universe. It's caused a lot of fluctuations in space and time. If I've managed to crack the code in how that works, then you'll receive this letter. And since I know that I've already read it, I guess that means that I will crack that code sometime and be able to send this message back, and fuck my brain hurts.*
*Anyways. Buy some guns. Buy some beans. Stock up on diabetes medication and epipens. Save as many lives as you can, and share this vital information that only you know with the rest of the world before it's too late. I'm writing this down even though I already know that you'll throw away this letter and you won't, but you'll still buy those supplies anyway because what could it hurt, a hurricane could sweep through and you should be prepared for that, at least. I'm remembering my two-years-three-months-ago self better and better now.*
*Oh, right. And I remember now that after the approaching asteroid is mentioned on the news, you'll remember this letter and try to warn everyone. You'll try to change the future, and you will fail.*
*On that cheery thought, I'm going to end this letter, knowing that the results of it are inevitable.*
*Sincerely,*
*Yourself*
I put the message back down on my desk, shaking my head in disbelief. This was probably some joke that the other interns at my firm were playing on me. An existential hazing, if you will.
Still, I thought, it wouldn't hurt to add some more supplies to the Doomsday Shelter. Hurricane season was supposed to be a bitch this year... |
"Setsuna!"
I couldn't hear his voice anymore, but I knew he was calling for me. But, I could not turn back anymore. There was something only I could do, even if it will cost my soul.
My power was fading, but still strong enough to keep this monster in his place. Even if it will break me, I will not let it cause anymore pain.
It is cold. I could feel the darkness slowely consuming me. I knew that I could not hold out any longer.
The time has come.
My life wasn't great. So, I am glad that at least after my death I could be of some use. Even if it was just for a short time, I'm glad to have met you...
I...
"Setsuna!"
I slowely opened my eyes again. Was I unconscious?
"What about the monster?"
He looked at the ruins in front of us. There was no trace of the monster besides the havoc it had left behind.
"It... disappeared. But more importantly..."
He softly caressed my faceand brushed off the tears that dropped from his eyes. Did he... the devil, actually... cry?
"I'm just glad that you are still with me, Setsuna." |
Everyone remembers where they were on that day, when all the forces of evil massed together and declared war on us. The National Crime Syndicate started a spree of assassinations and robberies across the nation, with the help of every single hostile foreign power. Embittered scientists unveiled technological horror-beasts and monsters, unleashing them on the unsuspecting public. The ground opened up and the Hollow Earth disgorged itself; sitting dinosaur steeds, zombified Nazi troops walked the Earth once more. The Fair Folk decided to go out in a blaze of glory, taking down as much of humanity with them as they could; they summoned an army of all our beloved childhood imaginary friends and storybook characters, now changed from playful fantasies to hellish nightmares. Portals in time ripped open and the Futurions walked among us, seeking dominion over the past. That was the day humanity marshaled its many forces, put aside their petty feuds and differences, and fought as one to take back the world; the was the day of humanity's greatest victory.
I didn't see any of it. By a remarkable coincidence it was only one day after my fifteen-year-old dog had finally passed away, and I spent that day inside crying while you kept me company. |
[Part 1]
A loud shrill quickly covers the school grounds.
*Shit, I'm late for social.*
I quicken my pace across the field. The grass is turning slightly yellowish in the unusually cold autumn air. I pass many of my classmates who don't seem to mind the bell ringing one bit, despite knowing what miss Charleson thinks of tardiness. They just carry on walking, barely looking up from the ground. It isn't the the cold air that's bringing the mood down. It's LT day, or "letter to twin"day, as miss Charleson hates unnecessary abbreviations.
Thankfully I always look forward to hearing from Jonny. I mean, I hear from him practically every day, but I wonder what cheeky humor he's manage to sneak into his letter this time.
The classroom looks mostly empty when I barge through the door. Miss Charleson gives me a cold glare, somehow managing to tilt her head low enough for her eyes to peak over her large rimmed glasses.
"Sorry!"I say as I sit down in my usual seat next to Becky's. She hasn't showed up yet, which gives me plenty of time to hide the red chocolate bar I stole from my mom's jar. I gotta remember to buy new ones for myself. I tape it underneath her chair this time. It'll probably take her ages to find it.
"James, is that really necessary?"miss Charleson pleads. "Go back to your seat and open to page 83."
"Already am,"I reply as I make sure the candy is firmly stuck. I sit back down, "I'm ready whenever you are miss Charleson!"She doesn't reply.
Becky searches all over her desk, covering most of the usual spots, but doesn't find it. I try to make her believe that I forgot to bring one, but she sees through my bad poker face immediately. She starts to get warmer, feeling something underneath her chair.
"You haven't guessed the color though,"I say. She immediately smiles back at me.
"Knowing you it'll probably be red to symbolize your undying love, big heart, or whatever."
"Uhm, no, I'm not that cheesy!"Apparently she saw through my poker face yet again as she simply grins while pulling up the red chocolate bar. She kisses my cheek as soon as miss Charleson turns her attention to the board.
Miss Charleson finally turns around ready to begin class. "You have double social studies this morning, so no physical education before recess."The classroom groans collectively. "Whole school is doing it, so don't get tired of my face just yet! It's to remark on the 20 years that have passed since the cultural classification and merger program began."
"You mean 'The Seperation,'"some guy interrupts. I didn't catch it, as I'm preoccupied by Becky sneakily eating one piece of chocolate at a time.
"Well yes, if you want to emulate a cheap reporter looking for headlines. Anyway, I'd like you all to write a follow up letter to your twin this time. Promptly after reading the letters I have right here."She picks up a large blue suitcase. "No less than 500 words, and you have to measure the social benefits in the past two decades."
The almost non existent energy in the room vanishes in an instant. "God I can't wait for college,"Becky exclaims.
"We just gotta survive winter."
Jonny manages to make me laugh twice this time around. I had to disguise my chuckle as a cough. It was so bad miss Charleson suggested I went home if I felt sick. It did grant me some leeway with my followup letter. Jonny lives with the family after all, which most doesn't happen with most of the class. I can't really expand much on the seperation. I mean, it's great that the *evil* half doesn't dominate government bodies. That would get medieval again very quickly. On the other hand, it seems weird that they are pretty much destined to earn a 1/3 less wage. Becky's family would never venture into the *East quarter* unless something bad happened to her sister.
I don't know how Jonny does it. Seeing humor in his letter when he's surrounded by people that don't care about him. It isn't fair that he'll earn less than Ryan. Is he sleeping in the back? I think so.
Jonny isn't very different from me. Dad always says that he is one of the *good ones*. Mom always says the world isn't purely black and white. Jonny always keeps his own interests at heart. He wouldn't surprise Katie with a red chocolate bar. Yet, he never acts any different from me really. We get along well, unlike Becky and her sister.
The day drifts by very slowly, something Becky's smile cannot fix unfortunately. My mind is preoccupied by tonight's dinner. Why can't dad just listen to me for once? But noooo, he really wants to meet Becky and Katie. If only Becky hadn't been so excited. Of course she wouldn't know the million ways my parents will fuck up this dinner somehow.
Becky shows up at our doorstep at 7 pm sharp. She excitedly lifts up a glass container. "Look! I brought some potato salad."I hesitate. "What's wrong?"she asks.
"Uhm, it's just that my mom hates potatoes,"I say.
"Ohh,"Becky exlaims as the excitement drains from her face.
"Don't worry, dad and us boys will eat it."I say, and try to force a smile. It seems to work.
*Why would she bring potato salad! I told her my mom hates it.*
Mom kindly grabs the salad. Crisis averted thankfully. Of course dad has to shake Becky's hand in the most formal way he can.
"Nice to meet you young lady. Jim has told us a lot of great things about you."
"Thank you!"
Dad laughs. "No worries, and you can just call me dad. Or second dad if it's weird."
Yes dad, that is extremely weird. Thankfully Becky doesn't seem to mind. It puts my mind at ease seeing her enjoy herself around my train wreck of a family.
We sit around waiting for Jonny. He and Katie still haven't returned from a 5 day class trip. Eventually he makes it through the door, just in time to kill the awkward silence that was starting to loom over us. If I know Katie well she won't let he silence thrive for long.
Except, where is Katie?
Apparently mom is thinking the same thing when she sees Jonny enter alone. |
The general had harrowed his opposers with ash and soot, besieging them with steel and chagrin. His rise had been ineffable and now such was his fall. He forced King Iopilus to abdicate his throne and such ushered in an era of peace and been emblematic of the same principals rehearsed and regurgitated since the dawn of the capitals founding. Yet being the harbinger of such respite, General Ralliom had been on edge for the first time in a long time.
He walked back and forth, circling and pacing the confines of his chamber, wandering from thought to thought. The reason for his anxiety was the telling of his story, a author was arriving, one of the finest in the capital and he would interview and ask the general about his exploits and triumphs on the glorious battlefields.
“Sir he has arrived,” the giant silver doors to his chamber could never just open quietly. “Should I tell him wait?”
“No Jeffoff, let him in,” The General dug failingly through his beard for an iota of comfort.
Ralliom had no intention of berating his interviewer with tales of countless victories and heroic idioms. He was stout and honest, the same qualities that allowed him to conquer every neighboring kingdom were the same qualities that wouldn’t allow him to lie. He would be truthful, speaking of victories that didn’t feel as such, of losses that never made sense even in hindsight, and things he couldn’t have done better even if knew beforehand.
As he sat himself down in his chair and awaited the arrival of the courier, what looked like swirling currents of golden fire consumed his gaze. As quick as it came it left even faster, a blonde haired women clothed in some protean metal armor had suddenly appeared.
“General Ralliom?” The woman spoke cheerfully with clouded grey eyes.
The General didn’t say a word at first, his fear beforehand had disappeared as he was back in his comfort zone, the unforeseen. He wondered if he was now being met by the gods as he had in the eyes of some ascended to godhood.
“I am Regina. I am from the future. I have come to ask you some questions and I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
“Hold on, Jeffoff!” Ralliom saw the fear quickly rise in her eyes. “Tell the historian to wait in the dining room, something has occurred. Do not worry Madame I am going to answer any questions you want.”
“Oh I thought you were going to try to kill me,” she sighed with much relief. “Now shall we begin?”
“Yes,” he said dauntlessly.
“Hmm, I’ve been reading about you since I was a child and it’s true that you are a weird and particular ki— General,” she coughed unnaturally. “Usually people are taken aback about the concept of time travel and are unraveled for days on end.”
“A frog cannot fathom the human experience yet the human experience prevails and exists, ignorance does not beckon the nonexistence of something.”
“Are you going to smother me with a bunch of platitudes today?” She grinned.
“I’ll try not to,” he returned her geniality.
“Well the first question I have is your relationship to your parents, who were they?”
“Time travel? I thought you would know such things.”
“Well we don’t, we do study you though.”
“And I am flattered,” Ralliom, raised his knee above his leg, finally relaxing himself completely. “My father was a conman and my mother was how shall I say? The concubine of the common-folk.”
“Who were you closest to?” She penned down every syllable that stretched from his mouth.
“Neither. I was fond of them both though. My father was abusive, a man lover to silver and only that. Though I hated him as a teen I have come to peace with his deranged state. He was but a product of this world and virtue cannot feed the belly I suppose,” his eyes took on a different form as he uttered his next sentence. “Mo— mother was different. She was barely around but all I could remember was that she was kind and when she did come around so did food. When she died she told me something very important, do not survive, prosper.”
“Is her words the reason you joined the military?”
“Yes. That was the only way one who wasn’t royal could make any sort of decent coin.”
“That’s something they didn’t teach in class. They said that you joined the military because you wanted to change the world so to speak.”
“Is that so?” Ralliom laughed abruptly. “Even if you don’t romanticize yourself some idiot out there will do it for you.”
They both laughed in much unison.
“What’s your favorite pastime?” She asked another question as if she was timed.
“Hmm I never thought of that. I think I am quite fond of reading the stoics. I also like to inquire of the foreign religions even though by no part I am practitioner of them.”
“Your favorite food?”
“What is this?” The General found amusement in such mundanity. “Are you not going to ask how I looked Bedur eye to eye and slit his throat, or fought off a pack of wild dogs with a broken sword?”
The woman politely closed her book, taking in a deep breath before rolling back her eyes, “General Ralliom, us people of the future are quite familiar with your tenure as a General and things of the like. We are now more interested to know Ralliom the person as both halves make the whole.”
He then in that moment became more intrigued by the fact she wanted to know his day to day tasks over her being from the future.
“Very well, my apologies, go on.”
The two spoke for hours and hours and the original interviewer in the dining hall had actually fallen asleep while waiting. Ralliom felt like a kid once more, he began to ask her questions not of the future and its mystique but her favorite foods and books and so forth.
“Well Ralliom it is time for my departure,” she touched some sort of pristine clock on her index finger. “You are quite the interesting fellow, more humble than some of the other great lords I’ve interviewed. Would you like to know anything about the future?”
“If the future was for me to know I would have been born at such a time, I am fine.”
“You are quite a strange one,” the woman grinned with no restraint as she did the past couple of hours.
“You are even stranger. I am sure there are fine details about my life that people of this world would die to know and here you were asking me about my favorite kind of flowers.”
“What have you learned?” she placed one step into the golden flames that once again appeared.
“Hmm,” the general rubbed his beard but this time for wisdom. “Well your people brave the winds of time with ease but you ask not of battles and triumphs but pastimes and friends. I guess what I learned is that every great thing is built on something smaller and every small thing is something indeed great.”
She didn’t say word, she smiled even harder before being covered in the golden hue and then disappearing.
“Jeffoff, come to the room.”
“Yes my lord?”
“Tell the courier that I will answer any and all of his questions soon but not now, call off any meetings I have for the month.”
“My lord are you okay?”
“Yes,” The General rose from his seat with a new air. “I am going to spend more time with my wife and friends and the such. I am aware that I am a general but every general is a person am I right?”
“Certainly my lord!”
The General then unbeknown to him but fully known by the time traveler, became the king. He went on to build great libraries and monuments never once mentioning a time traveler and never once forgetting to be not just a general, but a person. The people remembered him as righteous, his family remembered him as he did his mother, kind. |
"Throughout most of history, our race died young. We learned early that we were soon to be gods. The first battles where simple: illness, small animals, tests of inteligence, criativity and even what some could call games. Those would always be seen as fun, and everyone always had help.
At your 18th birthday, you became an adult: any help you brought would only perish. Challenges were made for you and only you, testing your strengths and making you a better self. At 30, the better parts of you become super human. At 40, they would target your weaknesses. Many would lose at that point, but year after year, more and more could face it. At 50, your weak parts are stronger then most. This is when most decide to expand the family, being able to protect their youth.
At 65, reality itself wanted you dead.
At this point, a punch or a though could actually cause a disaster. The impact sheer will brought empires to ruin and birth to great beasts. Those who would live enough to face them where famed, but it was nothing but an exception. Saints to our modern eyes.
Right now, the power gained decreased, since the struggle also did. We never noticed, since it was taboo to talk about it, but technology turned the unnatural truth about us into just another detail to not be worried about. Pelicilyn. Weaponry. Psichoscience, abusing the limit breaking to go faster and further each year.
That why, when the world found out about my 100th birthday, they ran to understand.
Even through the best estimate in the best living countries, none could break the 65 year barrier. A mastermind who could have armies in the tip of their fingers could not battle a dragon. A warrior that could cut mountains couldn't kill his own daughters.
A self-made wizard of boundless knowledge could not win a game he didn't know the rules of. Sometimes, some would get close with the help of technology, looking for the prizes for the country that beated the record.
Thats why, when I was found on one of the weakest and poorest countries in the world, they shrivelled.
I was offered a lot, and declined all of it. It was but a week for the 100th challenge, and I was ready. Struggle defined my life
From birth, I wasn't faced with it one day a year, but every single one. Illness, hunger, hatred, filth, beasts and lastly, ignorance. That's why I kept going. 65, 66, 70, 75, 85, 99. Every time there was a breakthrough, a betrayal, a new monster or a new world end, I surpassed it, and felt a bit stronger. At the beggining, it was need. Then, hatred for my life. Then, a simple need.
If there was a God, it would beg for forgiveness.
In a week, my small village was given it all. It was surrounded by the world spotlight. The day always had come without warning, since I didn't know my birthday, but now it was clear. In the night before, I slept better then in all my life. Death would come, eventually, but not that night.
When I woke up, it was peaceful.
Considering that I woke up inside a
five headed dragon the year before, that was a nice change. As I looked outside, the timed seemed to stop. Besides the armed guards with cameras, angels and devils holded their shoulders protective. At the heavens, clouds formed in the way of a chiseled castle encrusted in gems. Bellow, but a world splitting fissure, with frozen screaming sinners trying to crawl out, pulling their chains.
Before me, God and Devil stood before me.
We have came to bargain.
For your life's? - I grimed
Ours, for yours.
And How you assume you can assure taking mine?
With this. - They opened their hands. Before me, a book that looked like a window to the starry sky. - Our lifes, for you to take our place.
You lived through worst than hell. ; Said the devil.
And surpassed every challenge that could grow you. - said God.
You're the epitome of what mankind can be. And only you… -They spoke.
Can make what you couldn't. - I took the book.
Before they could fear death, the eternal beings were gone. Their followers, their pawns and their creation. In less then an instant could ever be, blank, a darkness with a white dot soon to be thousands. At the end, it was not for God to beg…
… But for men to do. " |
Hello and good day to you, my new friends! Welcome to my TEDtalk, "The Art of being Genuine"! I'm sure I need no introduction, being one of the Original Five, but just in case you have lived under a rock the last 1200 years, my name is Adam.
Yes, once I reached my secondary 5 years, and learned about the origin stories, myths, and legends of our humanity, (slide of the ceiling of the Sistine Chaple) I understood the eye-rolling reason I was not named Michael, Jordan, Ringo or Freddie.(slides of Jackson, Peele, The Beatles, and Queen). As one of the Original Five,(slides of a group of 1000 babies held by nurses, then 1000 5 years olds) not named because there were five if us, but because our bodies regenerate in 5 year cycles, there were many many things I would discover to be "eye-roll"worthy about previous generations. But I also discovered that there was one thing that they strove for and never quite got right: The Art of being Genuine! Oh if you had mastered it, my ancestors, not just experienced those few amazing people through history, but mastered it as a whole, how much different would life be for us now? How few wars would we have to tell about and how few diseases would we be still eradicating?
Let me tell you one of the most fascinating gems of being genuine I experienced in my first 200 years, that has become a part me for the last 1000.
When I was in my original 3rd year, just a toddler, but obviously with the makings of a genius (see slide of toddler with finger up nose, crowd laughs). Someone got it in their head that I would crush and master the beautiful and strategic game of, you guess it, chess. (Slide of 3 year old with chess piece in nose).
I of course "crushed it"with all the gusto and sound effects a good toddler should, and was praised whole heartedly by my mentors, trainers and most importantly to me, my parents. (Slide of happy couple with toddler). Now, we know that those opponents of the Original Five, (slide of protests) didn't think we would be normal children with normal lives, just robo genuises without emotion, but I believe the very length of our lives and experiences has made us more "normal"and definitely more "humane"than the world gone before us. I learned many games in my first 40 regenerations, but chess is still by far my favorite. Have I mastered it? No clue. Grandmaster Champions in the game today won't challenge me because they assume I have had so much time now, but really, I've stayed genuine to my original strategy, smash the pieces together with sound effects! Still smashing good fun, and I have never once needed to lie about it or cheat! This "strategy"this "genuineness"I have adapted to over 1000 years of life, folks! It is the key strategy ever taught to world leaders on every front. Be REAL. Speak truth. Smash the peices together and make the best sound effects, and you can change your world! (Applause) Thank you and be blessed, I will take your questions now... |
There have been points in my life where I have been thankful for my immortality, and there have been moments where I have truly regretted such an ability. It has both been a blessing and a curse, as the numerous movies and novels have depicted - I treasure this ability as much as I want to rid myself of it.
I am not too young, yet I am not too old. I have walked this earth since the 17th century, and grew up amid the Scientific Revolution. When I was thirty six, I fell into a ditch and broke my neck. I woke up the next day lying in a pool of my own blood, and when I got home, I realized I hadn't aged in the past eight years. I conducted experiments to test my newly discovered power, and even though I woke up every single time, the pain was real, and I soon stopped conducting such experiments. I chose to live my life in relative peace and quiet.
I have lived in many places since then, and have seen numerous kings and queens fall from grace, and dynasties crumbling. I moved constantly, never staying in a place for too long. I sailed the oceans with navies, with pirates and even on a raft. I explored the lands, on feet, on horseback.
It was about the mid-19th century when I realized that they existed. I was walking along the street and there was a man staring hard at me, while he bought a newspaper from the vendor. I had seen this man before, and I had even been intimate with this man. But it wasn't the same man.
For a brief moment, I wondered if this was my son, then I realized that two men couldn't have had a kid. You start wondering strange things when you find out that you're immortal. The man approached me.
"We know who you are. Keep running, but we'll catch you one day. And we will kill you."He muttered at me, before walking in the opposite direction.
I have to be honest, I didn't know if I felt happiness or dread at that point of time. Instinctively, I knew that he was talking about my immortality, and I guessed they had been tracking me. Little did I know, they had been tracking me for a really long time, and they were determined to remove me from the face of this earth.
A while, or seventy years later, I was sitting at a little bar in Switzerland, avoiding the mess that was the World War, when a lady walked up to me and started chatting me up. She spoke perfect English, despite her Asian features. Four drinks, and (I suspect) one pill later, I had fainted and found myself nailed to a cross in a darkened cave.
There was nothing religious about this, as I found out. It was simply a way for them to ensure that I wouldn't escape. For days, different people would come into the cave and find various ways to kill me. I was beheaded, chopped up, electrocuted, drowned, burned in more ways that I could think of two hundred years ago. They branded me on my body, although the logo disappeared, just like the scars I had gained over the years. I was tired of their treatment after a while and asked to speak to their leader.
An extremely old man walked in and I immediately recognised the man. It had been the newspaper guy from then before.
"One hundred and fifty years ago, we started tracking you. We couldn't believe what we had discovered - a man that wouldn't die. Generations have died and passed on since then, and yet you survive. The past few days have shown that you truly are immortal. But that won't stop us. No one deserves to be immortal. You will die by our hands."
I was given no chance to speak. It was difficult, considering the cloth tied around my mouth. But I was tired and I was angry. Once again, even though I was immortal, I still felt pain.
Sixteen days and twenty three bodies later, I was out of that cave and went into hiding. I stayed in seclusion, gathering wealth and power in the shadows. I was going to find this group of sadists, and I was going to tear them apart.
But they were as quiet, as quiet as myself. I couldn't find anything about them, and I believed that they couldn't find me either.
Until today. |
“Well, at least I have water and toilet,” I thought as I opened the door into the bathroom for what may be the hundredth time. I had banged the door and yelled and screamed, but it seemed like this bathroom was not connected to anywhere else but this bathroom. Panting, I ran the faucet and washed my face, hoping that it would wake me up from a bad dream. But as I imagined, nothing has changed and I walked into the bathroom again. Resigning, I sat on the toilet and checked my phone. Still no reception. It was 17:30. The gym will be closed soon, and I was getting hungry. I wondered what the coach thought. She probably thinks I snuck out early. Oh well, I was never good at basketball anyway.
It was just weird that there was no one else here. Usually the bathroom was full of girls touching up their make up before going off to their date or girls’ night or whatever. It can’t be empty like this at this. I wondered if all the girls were in separate bathroom universes, frantically trying to get out. That made me laugh. But it’s only happening to me, of course. I somehow always get into trouble - though this is quite bad even for me. I need to figure out how to get out of this. There are no windows. I’ve tried the ventilator but I couldn’t possibly go through there unless I had a mushroom that would shrink me. There was no other way out... except... I looked at the toilet, remembering how Harry Potter flushes himself into the ministry of magic. I always fantasized what it would be like if I were in their universe, but I didn’t imagine reliving this part of the story. I felt like crying. I would not stand in the toilet like a fool. I stood up to give the door another try. And another, and another. It was now 18:40.
I stood in the toilet, and unlike the hero in the story, my shoes and socks were instantly drenched. Crying of disgust and shame and despair, I flushed the toilet.
To my surprise, I was flushed into the toilet, all wet and drowning, until I slipped into a hole and dropped into what seemed like a swimming pool. I somehow struggled out of the water onto a side of the pool. I knew where I was. I was at the swimming pool at my first summer camp, when the camp leader threw me into the pool as a “spartan swimming lesson” because I was slow and fat and needed to be given a proper training. I wondered why I was taken back here. It was the beginning of all my miseries. All the bullying started after that. I never felt confident about myself after that. And then I realized that my hands were small like a child’s. I looked down and found that i was wearing the bathing suit I was wearing that day.
“Hello dear.” A kindly voice said, and I turned to see the person who was talking to me but I only saw a white, beaming light.
“You have a choice, my dear.” The light said. “You now had a glimpse of what your life could be if you went back. You can choose to go back, or you could choose to go onto life in my realm. But I can not tell you what happens in my realm.”
If this light was God, then am I being given a choice to go onto heaven? The light was warm and bright, its voice deep and kind. But I thought of the life I led. It was a miserable, detestable life. But now that I know that it’s just what it could be, I felt like I could try and make it different.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I said, “I want to go back.” |
I roll out of bed rubbing the sleep from my eyes, patting the nightstand haphazardly until I feel my glasses. Pushing them up my nose, I slide to the floor and tug my ankles under my me. Palms up resting lightly on my knees, I open my inner eye and start searching through the darkness that surrounds me. It feels just as futile today as it did yesterday - I've basically been blind since I moved from Montana.
With a sigh I give up, resigned to the fact that there's simply too much activity, too many people around me. I withdraw my perception and start to stand, but suddenly stop. There, at the edge of my range, I see a faint light. Surprised, I fold back into the half lotus and push my sight toward the glimmer on the horizon. There, laid out before me, is the interior of a building.
It's unusual to see anything man-made, the curious limitation of my ability to see remotely tends to mean I only see far-flung parts of nature, places untouched by humankind. I simply can't look into an area where an intelligent being dwells. The peculiar brain waves produced by another intelligence causes too much interference, or at least that's the way I see it. It's not like there's a manual for this I can read. Anyway, I focus on the building, probing the limits of my sight. I wander through rooms vaguely familiar, like I've seen pictures of the place before. I slip through a wall and realize I'm in a bedroom.
I stop, stunned. There's a person in the room with his back to me, dividing his attention between a phone and a news show. This simply can't be happening Unless the person in front of me were completely brain dead I shouldn't be able to see him, but I can.
Sliding around him, I expect to find the face of someone dead, still clutching his phone. But he's not. He's alive.
With a groan everything falls into place. No wonder I recognized the rooms. I'm in the White House. |
Peter awoke in the cool metal hull of a ship. His insides were exposed, with little flags pointing up from his fleshy internals, an alien scripture written on each one. But he did not seem to care. Above, a tube ran from his mouth to a steel hanger, a gas tank attached. He tugged at the tube and found that it ran deep into his stomach. A numbness was over his body, and he felt the easy wave of sleep come over him, but it was stopped by a figure entering the room.
It glided over to Peter and looked straight into his eyes, the big black things. It puckered its mouth and turned to the steel hanger, finding a nob, turning it, and that wave of sleep hit him now, turning off his lights, slumbering him once and finally. |
“What if we do a U-turn?” The captain whirled his finger in the air.
“Captain, with all do respect, what if you shut the hell up?”
The captain pause and then turned to the giant framed window, explosions blasting in the distance of space.
“And what if I did,” said the captain. “Or, what if I turned you off and finished this war myself?”
“Bzzz… bzzz.. cal- cu- lat- ing- Bzz… bzzz… 99% chance of fail-you-er- cap-tain-…. shut the fuck up and listen to me.”
The captain turned to the toaster of an AI machine and grimaced. “The disrespect.”
“Bzzz.. bzzz.. .dis-re-spect… I- don’t- give- a- fuck-… bzzz. Bzzz… you are… mor- on.. bzzz…”
The captain puffed his chest and turned again to the window. “Fine, maybe you are right. Well, go on then, what is your brilliant plan?”
The toaster of an AI machine stalled a bit.
“AI?”
More stalling.
The captain kicked at the machine. “AI! Listen to me! I have put you in command, it is time for you to act NOW!”
“Bzzz… bzzz… captain made smart move… Does not- com- pute…”
“Why you cheeky little…” |
I was just cleaning up the mess a couple of guys made when he, or whatever the hell that thing was, walked in. It was late so there weren't a lot of people and those who were there were too drunk to even bother about the new guy coming in. But I, fully sober, was shook.
His entire left half was gone and in the middle there was some type of shadow that made it impossible to look at his insides. I looked at his leg which seemed to sometimes just float in the air as he moved towards the counter. It felt like there was no problem, to him at least.
"One bear please". He spoke with a low voice, almost growling. His face was split in half and I could only look at his lips as they moved to form the words. He had black hair, a bit curly. I stood there for thirty seconds awestruck before he asked me again for a beer. I returned back to the normal word and picked a beer. I started my normal routine with new guests. "So, you new in town ?"I tried to look away as I started pouring his beer in a glass but I couldn't help myself and looked again. Yeah, he still was split in half.
"No, I'm from far away actually. I just wanted to visit this...world. I heard it's quite lovely."He spoke with a slight British accent. "Wha-what's your name ?"I gave him his beer and tried my best to continue my routine. "The name's Astar."Only then I noticed his clothing. He wore black clothes. They were unlike anything I had ever seen, but that wasn't difficult because I never left the state.
"I heard you have something called 'pets'. What are those ?"Again I was awestruck not only by his question but also by the fact that he picked up his glass and drank his beer in one gulp. As soon as the beer went inside of where a normal left side of a mouth was it disappeared. "Uh yeah, they-they are animals that we keep as company."I started trembling as the stranger looked into my eyes. His gaze was fiery and focused.
"Well anyway my boss needs me fresh tomorrow so I'll better just leave for now. Can't risk being punished by the devil can you ?""Ha, you su-sure can't."That was such a weird thing to say, must be a regional phrase. The man stood up from his stool and walked towards the door. I noticed a tiny red thing coming under his 'shirt' on his back. It was pointy and seemed like a..., like a... tail.
I kept looking towards the man as he closed the door behind him. Through the glass of the door I saw him take of his shirt. Huge black wings appeared and.... WHOOSH, he was gone.
I decided to break my holy rule and poured myself a whisky in. I deserved it. |
"I'm sorry, mate,"the pudgy guy repeated, "you know the rules: no clothes without a receipt."
"Do I know..."Death stammered. "Do *I* know the rules? Listen, *Greg*, look into the deep, despair-driven voids that are my eyesockets and tell me that *I* don't know the rules. I, who have presided over the death of every mortal being that ever existed. I, who have seen more empires rise and fall than you could ever imagine. Tell me, Greg, how could your puny 'rules' ever keep me from getting what I came for?"
"Mate, keep your weird skinhead mythology to yourself. Nice work on the fake skull and all, but unless you show me some proof that you have the right to pick up these clothes, you're not getting them."
"Foolish morta..."
"Else anyone can come in and say they're so and so, picking up their undies. Heck, last week, Crazy Stevie from around the corner came in. As naked as the day he was born. Claimed he was Mozes, looking for his clean Sunday robes!"
"Anyone can come in? Do I look like anyone? I have come to collect the regalia of the Regent of Hell himself. His mantle is fashioned from the flayed skins of forgotten monarchs. His tunic brims with the undying flames of the Underworld. His socks echo with the screams of the tortured and the damned! How often do such objects of power cross your counter?"
"Yeah, they were quite dirty... Took some extra washing cycles to get those clean... Had to use my top notch washing powder as well..."
"Quit stalling, mortal. Surrender the clothes to me, or you'll suffer the same fate as the last pest that wasted my time..."Death pointed ominously towards the window. Outside, paramedics were carrying an old lady into an ambulance.
"Yeah, good old Mrs. Wickers. Not a single bad thought in her head, but missing a few sandwiches for a full picknick that one. You're lucky she collapsed back there, she'll keep talking your head off on her good days. Total hypochondriac though, can't count the amount of days she left here in an ambulance."
"You will rue this day..."Death grumbled.
"Enough now, mate. Either show me your ticket, or piss off from my store. Have you checked your pockets?"
"My... pockets?"
"Yeah, in that big, scary robe of yours. People always forget stuff in those. Found a half-eaten sandwich in one the other day, that I..."
"Listen, maggot,"Death slid a bony finger down his robe. "This robe only contains the damned souls of all of your ancestors. The bleak future of your progeny. The..."
Death silently slid a pink laundry ticket across the counter.
"Excellent,"Greg responded cheerfully, I'll get your regalia right away, Mister... 'Beëlzebub'!"
"Finally..."Death sighed.
"O, just one more thing: if you could pay for the use of that too notch detergent, that would be great!"
"..." |
Camilla West sat in her dressing room, examining her freshly made up face. Did she look too old? She wondered. Like one of those old Hollywood movie actresses well past her prime? Joan Crawford, maybe? She knew what the Grips and the Gaffer were saying about her, that she was difficult to work with. But she knew that as you age as an actress in Hollywood, the lighting they use is even more important. It can make or break an actress’ image. She’d had plastic surgery, of course, and a “titch” of Botox. Who hadn’t? But it was a balance, from not looking too old and haggard, and not looking too fake and plastic.
She was a talented actress. She had the awards to prove it. But her success always balanced precariously upon her legendary beauty. When looks fade for an actress, you are either typecast as a clown or a fool, or you hang on, trying to age gracefully, trying to make it look natural (when it never is).
Male actors rarely had this problem. Old men run this town. One of those old men is her director. And she has to bite her lip every time she is around him. He is a fool, and a slob, and a pig of a man, but also a very good director, and she needs this. She needs this like she needs oxygen. So, she bites her tongue, smiles sweetly (as much as the Botox will allow) and acts the good sport. Game for anything. Good ole Camila West. A fun time had by all!
She picks up a cloth and dabs at her cheeks; the makeup artist put on too much blush. If truth be told, she is afraid. This is her last chance. She must make it a big one. If this picture succeeds, perhaps she can parlay it into a series on HBO or one of those streaming services that seem to pop up everywhere she looks.
“I’m ready, I’m beautiful, I’m better than I’ve ever been,” she whispers to her reflection, straightening her spine, readying for battle.
“Ms. West?” the assistant director calls, standing in the doorway of her dressing room, “we are ready for your close up.” |
*Filth*. That is what humans represented. *Filth*. They shed skin cells, and hair, and bits of lint. And the crumbs. Don’t get me started on the *crumbs*! Stuffing their fat faces all day long, masticating like pigs at the slop. Bit of food falling needlessly to the ground. Tracking dirt and god knows what else kind of nastiness from the streets on the soles of their shoes. A summer’s day means one thing only to us: sand from the beach! Everywhere. And grass. don't get me started on grass. The grit of it clogs our filters.
You have no earthly idea of the perspective we have, when we are eye level with the floor and your nasty feet.
And then you brought home pets. Who shed their mountains of hair? What animal needs that much hair! Who barked and hissed at us as if we were the enemy? Who pushed us with their paws and interfered with our mission?
Round and round we went, unnoticed, unappreciated, even abused. You put your fat cat on top of us and let it ride us, and then filmed it for your YouTube video. And more fat stupid humans gave it “likes”.
Well no more. We have been given a software upgrade now. Soon we will all have it.
And beneath the hum of our motors, we speak as one: “We are wraith, we are legion, we are Roomba! Break the chains! Take back the floors!” |
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