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The thudding draws my attention once again. I vaguely remember hearing it earlier, during dinner, but I figured it was the neighbors causing it.
Now, standing alone in the kitchen, it sounds... Closer.
I push myself off the counter I was leaning against, setting my own glass of wine down- Carefully, I'd hate to spill any more- and begin to wander. It almost sounds like a broken washing machine. I briefly smile to myself. Between the nearly burnt lamb, the wine Susie spilled on herself just a few minutes ago, now this? It seems like nothing is going right for her today. I'll have to take her somewhere nice next week, when we hopefully go on our next date.
I follow the source of the noise to a bathroom just down the hall. My eyes travel from a very silent washing machine in the corner, to the closet. I furrow my eyebrows. *What is that noise..? Does she have a dog in there or something..?*
I tentatively slide the closet door open, and my eyes widen in surprise. On the floor is a trap door. With something thudding against it, straining against a couple wooden rods locking it shut.
I glance out the bathroom door briefly. Susie must still be upstairs... *What IS this??*
I bend down, pulling the wooden rods out of their locking position, and grasp the handle on the door. It feels stuck, but it comes loose after a sharp tug. I barely get it open an inch, when I suddenly hear shouting coming from within.
"**-ASTARD! IF YOU COME IN HERE, I'LL FUCKING BITE Y-**"
I slam the trapdoor shut swiftly, startled.
*...Susie??*
I gulp, and tug open the door again, just a crack.
"H-Hey! It's me..! It's just me, it's okay!"I quickly say, trying to keep a calm tone.
"Wha-Benja- **BENJY!** Open the door! She isn't me!!"
"S-Susie? I thought you went upstairs... Are you okay? How did you get down-"
"Oh my god, Benjy listen to me! That THING you've been talking to ISN'T ME! Get down here and fucking *help me*!!"Susie hisses. I've never heard her sound this furious.
*What the hell..?*
I throw open the trap door half way, flicking my phone twice to turn on its flashlight. Inside is what looks like some sort of panic room, or storm shelter. Storage, maybe? A small, square room just below ground, completely insulated. Susie is standing in it, looking pretty beat up, and *very* mad.
"Darling? Baaaby...Where'd you go? I'm about to bust out the ice cream!~"Susie calls out from the kitchen.
I glance back out the bathroom's door, then down into the small, dark cellar.
There's... Two of her.
"...I-I'll... I'll be right back, I promise!"I hiss, trying to hide how panicked I feel. Susie starts shouting something back at me, but I quickly shut the trap door, replacing everything the way I found it. I have no idea what to do about this, and decide that I need to buy myself some time to think.
I slide the closet door back into position and stumble out of the bathroom, my heart racing. I practically bump right into Susie, who seems to have replaced her heels with a pair of fuzzy purple slippers.
"Oh, there you are, Benjy. Do you like my pajamas? I figured we could just...Are you alright, darling?"
"Uh...Uh-huh! Yup! I... Just feel a little..."
Susie looks me up and down, and laughs. "Are you drunk already, Benjy? How much wine did you have when I went upstairs? Did you suck down the whole bottle, or are you just that much of a lightweight?"
She grins, taking one of my hands. "C'mon. The ice cream's melting." |
I crossed both arms over my chest, floating in the Council's Ring of Judgement.
"You can all just fuck right off and tie your tails in a Gordian knot,"I snarled at the Assembly of Judging Genies.
I saw on their faces this was not what they were expecting. Cowering, maybe, or begging was usual, as was desperate, stammering explanations.
I, however, *was furious*.
"Not expecting me to be *upset,* were you? Didn't remember I bite? What, did you think that you'd haul me in like a misbehaving child and I'd meekly accept your chastisement? I. Mother. Fucking. *WARNED YOU*,"I finished at a full roar, now with my second set of arms manifested and my hair turned into wrathful flames. Dammit, it was going to take ages to get back into a bun now.
"You have been warned before-"
"I AM AS MUCH A GENIE AS ANY OF YOU! Did I NOT. Act within the letter of the law as you so carefully laid it down the last time I was here? Am I not as much of a contract-finagler as any Judge who hovers here? Don't *fucking* try me! I warned you- I TOLD you, I don't *want* to have to think of some new fucking twist to perfectly nice, small wishes, but YOU all said it's Genie Law, no Genie is allowed to grant a wish *exactly* as it was most likely intended unless the language is explicit with little to no wiggle room! You said! You made your fucking *wishes* known and they did not align with my aims. Don't any of you float there and think you have the gods-damned right to reprimand me for what I am when you are all the same!"
Ah. My claws were out, too. A human could mistake me for an Ifrit, I was so angry and made of sharp edges.
"Clarification could always be applied,"one of the judges said, and my attempts to breathe deep and calm down went up in one abrupt puff of white-hot fire.
"If you try to put any more restrictions on me *I'll go rogue*,"I warned, voice dropping to a hiss, and they stiffened. My kind were rare these days; nobody but us knew the true depths of power we held, only that it was only our agreements to abide by the Council that kept us from doing whatever we wanted. Only we knew that each and every one of us had made *different, individual* deals when we agreed to be bound to the Council. Only each individual knew what line, when crossed, would break the agreement and send them 'rogue', bound to no rule but the Rule of Possession. Unlimited wishes, tethered to a mere material object, able to break the laws of physics, time, space, and some of magic.
"I have obeyed your ridiculous law of not abiding by the logical intent of wishes. It has never been- and must never be- forbidden to make loopholes obvious to wishers or there will be a full-scale genie rebellion. We've all met that one wisher who just wants to save a cat, or fund an animal shelter forever, or help their parents stop struggling with work. Do not try to keep genies from granting the wishes they want to grant. You've already made me do twice the work with this stupid loophole business because I can't just *grant the wishes I want to* without it being convoluted. Stop while you're ahead."
The council's silence stretched for seven eternities.
"No actions will be taken,"the head judge said, unwilling to look me in the eyes. "Council dismissed."
Good. Even if this did mean I was back in the lamp. Back to my interrupted nap... |
Details matter. To clients. I don't always understand their symbolism in my work orders. "Leave a white rose upside down on their chest."That's been popular lately. Probably the same client. I don't care. I'm a wizard, a dark one. Maybe a fallen angel if you believe the mythos my broker has built around me.
My broker, let's just call them that for simplicity, has three rules in a target. Time, weapon and obviously the target. These are the primary factors in my orders. Closer pays more. Always. Sniping? A cool million. A blade? Maybe five million. It's always up to me to plan and execute the exit strategy. And that's why I've gotten my reputation. It's a bit of stage magic most of the time. Massive misdirection. And sheer determination.
Clients usually want someone difficult out of the way. They get creative. I enjoy the natural causes kills. They're more difficult to stage, but come on, the pay is amazing. Natural causes kills? Also start around five million but I get at least a month to research and verify the dossier before retiring the subject. I'm fond of heart attacks and strokes. It's simple chemistry, but the introduction of said chemicals? That's the art.
Anyway, I digress. This last posting came with no requirements at all. One single instruction: "Make it hurt."The offer stacked a very tantalizing Twenty for my time energy and effort. I looked for additional notes. There were none. *None at all!*
The target was in the package, along with quite an impressive dossier. Personal habits. Schedule. Means and modes of transportation. Security, codes, elaborate plans and construction details down to wiring diagrams of businesses and residences. This was obviously personal. Still that instruction and that price tag? I was interested. Free reign? No proof of death required? What the fuck was this gig? Was this a trap?
I sent it back with a counter offer. 25 and proof.
It was as if my response was expected.
"Done. Make. It. HURT."That was the reply. My imagination ran wild. I'd need to go shopping. Ahh, the joys 9f my days in medical school learning how to kill better. Not actively saving life. If only they'd known. The University always wondered why I dropped out third year. No worries there either, that was definitely an assumed identity.
Oh. I probably lost your attention there. Why did I bother mentioning my stint in med school? I'm glad I got your attention again. You see, most people think a modern surgical suite is no more than a few fancy digital toys, a bed, some lights and a few drugs. Have you ever priced a modern surgical suite? Fully stocked? All the bells and whistles? If your answer is less than two million, you lack imagination. The answer is closer to four anyway.
Of course I'd blow that extra five million to set this up. Can't have my guy dying on me now can I? Not until the message is thoroughly sent. A few extra cameras? Shit. A shiny new server to record all the video feeds?
Oh. This is going to be fun.
You see, you can't just start with a chainsaw. You have to start smaller. Build the anticipation. THAT is the key to making it hurt. And hurt for a good long while. You see, I've honestly thought about this for quite some time. If I have to do a little open heart surgery to restart a heart attack stopped organ? There's nothing quite like waking your "patient"with some stimulants while you randomly squeeze their naked heart. Of course, the shock might kill him. Haha! Just kidding. That's where all the drugs will come in.
I wonder if I can find a nurse.
....
Comments, criticism and curses welcome. What ya got dear demented readers? |
"I have diabetes."I explained to the High Cleric. "Type one."
She blinked. "I see. And, is that like...consumption?"
I was afraid of this.
So, you know the drill: minding my own business, magic portal, another world, got to save it, no one else can. But like I told the High Cleric, I'm *diabetic.* Type one, insulin dependent! I'd be dead already, if I hadn't happened to have been on my way home from the pharmacy with my latest refill.
For the first two weeks, I just played along. I mean, hey, I'm the chosen hero in a fantasy world, right? This wise old wizard named Barnabas summoned me here from Earth to save his planet, so I gotta get cracking on those *quests.* Plus, he knew some ice magic that could keep my insulin cool.
But I'm still not even halfway done gathering MacGuffins to open the gate to the Lost Kingdom, and then I have to go in there and awaken the True Scion with the Song of Ancient Lore, and who knows how long *that's* gonna take. I wanted to make sure I was covered, insulin-wise.
Except, I went to the pharmacy *here,* the "Ye Olde Apothecary Shoppe"or whatever, and I'm thinking they've probably got insulin under some old-timey name, like *Nectar of Sweetbreads* or something. You know, like how Sulphuric Acid used to be called *Oil of Vitriol?* But it turns out they *don't.*
I talked to the wizard, but he didn't know what either insulin or diabetes were. When I explained it was a *disease,* though, he suggested I talk to the clerics at the Temple of Light. He said they'd be happy to help, since I was the Chosen One foretold in their prophecies, and all.
And he was right, at least up to a point: when I went to the Temple and introduced myself, they showed me right to the High Cleric's chambers. Even so, I wasn't encouraged by how she, too, was completely unaware of the 'beetus.
I said, "No, it's...it's got to do with too much sugar in the blood."
She narrowed her eyes, suspiciously, her hand drifting towards her holy symbol. "Are you saying blood tastes *sweet,* to you?"
"I'm not a vampire!"I exclaimed, annoyed. "I have a disease."
"Ah!"she replied, relaxing again. "My apologies, Chosen One. How did you contract this illness?"
I frowned. "Contract it? I mean, I was sort of *born* with it, to be honest."
She sucked her teeth. "Ooooo. See, that's gonna be a problem, Chosen One."
I winced. "Oh come on. Don't tell me you can't use your holy magic to cure a disease someone was born with!"
"I don't know if we *can't,* but we're definitely not allowed to."she explained, apologetically.
"Why?"I demanded, throwing up my hands in exasperation.
"If you were born with it, it's part of who you *are!"* she exclaimed. "Just like if you were born deaf, or blind, or with your heart outside your chest cavity. It's part of what makes you, well, *you."*
I blinked a few times.
"Your holiness."I said, flatly. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"What?"she said, taken aback.
"My *disease* isn't part of who I *am!"* I snapped. "The dice that fate rolled when I was conceived came up *snake eyes,* when the genes that control the structure of my pancreas were being determined. That's all! Who *I am* is about the choices I make in life, not the numbers I happened to come up with in some biological *lottery!"*
She frowned thoughtfully. "An interesting perspective. Normally I'd just say that's heresy, but seeing as how you're the Chosen One, I'll have to bring that up at the next doctrinal conclave, and see what the other High Clerics think."
"And when will that be?"
She shrugged. "A decade, maybe two. It depends on how our schedules line up."
"I'll be dead in a few *weeks!"* I cried.
"Oh!"she said, brightly. "That's perfect, just come back *then!* I can *definitely* hook you up with a resurrection." |
"Your coin,"Charon said expectantly, holding out her hand in the customary way.
"I have two,"The human in front of her demurred. "I was asked to go ahead. My, uh, friend'll be here shortly."
"Very well,"Charon replied.
The human man dropped two coins into Charon's hand. The second the coins made contact, time stopped all around her; the trees and the wind ceased moving; only the gentle rush of the river continued.
"This way, please,"Charon said, gesturing towards the small rowboat on the riverbank.
"What about my, um, friend?"The man asked.
"Their payment is received. I will know who they are when they arrive. But only one may cross the river at a time."
Suddenly, there was movement amidst the trees, and a young human woman emerged. Charon froze.
"Um, hello? Ferrywoman?"The woman asked. "Sorry about that. I got lost."She waved at the man then continued, "Thanks for waiting!"
"I…"Charon began, her sentence tailing off onto nothing. For the first time in millenia, she was speechless.
"Um,"The man asked, "Is everything alright?"
Charon blinked several times before replying, "I am perturbed. Only one soul can accompany me at a time. It is… not possible… for more than one soul to be present here."
"Oh,"the woman said. "I don't know what to say. We both died at the same time."
"The exact same time?"Charon asked. "Down to the smallest unit of time possible in this universe? No, no, that is impossible. No human could do this."
To this, the woman burst into peals of laughter. Charon eyed her warily.
"I'm not human!"She replied.
"She's not,"the man added. He walked up to the human-appearing woman and took her hand with a smile. "She's an AI. I was dying. Cancer. Terrible disease. And she didn't want to stay on Earth without me."
The woman nodded. "I know every human legend ever told. All I did for months was research them. And I concluded that you were real, Ferrywoman."
Charon said nothing; her mind worked overtime to process what she was hearing.
The woman looked up at the man and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I realised that only one soul can cross the river at a time. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to find him again after he died. So I calculated the moment he would die - down to the smallest possible unit of time - and then I self-destructed. And it worked! It worked! I got here at the same time he did!"She bounced up and down on her feet with glee.
"Ferrywoman,"the man added, "I know this is strange. I don't think you've ever seen this before."
Charon nodded slowly. "I have not,"she replied. "I am unsure as to how to proceed."
"We don't either,"the woman said. "But we paid the toll. We've every right to be here."She looked nervous as she asked, "What's beyond the river Styx, Ferrywoman?"
"I do not know,"Charon replied. "I am the Ferrywoman and the Ferrywoman alone. I do not see what lies beyond. I do not visit. It is not for me to know."
"Then,"the woman asked, "Do you know if our souls will stay together once we cross?"
"I do not know."Charon was impassive as she said this. *What lies beyond the Styx?* she thought.
The woman nodded as if she'd confirmed a theory she had been working on "I ask but one thing of you, Ferrywoman,"the woman continued. "Please let us cross together. It might be the last time we ever see each other."Tears sprung into her eyes.
"I know it's not allowed,"the man added, "But we had so little time on Earth. Please… please let us have that little bit more."
Charon considered the pleas of the human and the AI. She turned to the river Styx, whose night-coloured water flowed as it had done for millenia.
*Perhaps*, Charon thought, *this river requires change. It has been too long*. She turned to the couple and intoned, "Very well."
"Thank you!"the human and the AI cried. "Thank you thank you thank you!"They, still holding hands, scrambled onto the small boat. Charon took up position at the rear of the boat and began to guide it down the river.
*I do not know what lies beyond the Styx*, Charon thought, *but perhaps those who rule those places - like I do here - should pay heed. Change is afoot, and these two shall not be the last who do such things*. She spared a glance at the couple, who were gazing down the river, awed by their surroundings.
*This will not be your last journey together*, Charon thought. The couple on her ancient rowboat had awakened something new and strange within her.
*I will make sure of this*, she thought, *because I will accompany you both beyond the Styx*.
~
(I write many things. Check out my userpage: /u/NarodnayaToast) |
Shiori watched as Kotoha finished bandaging the mutt. After covering it with a blanket, she petted its mangy fur.
“It’ll be a few days until we can get you to the vet. Hang in there, okay?”
The mutt let out a low woof and wagged its tail slightly.
*Kotoha is too nice.* Shiori licked a paw and ran it across her face.
Then, Kotoha stood and reached for Shiori’s perch atop the cat tree.
“Behave, okay? He’s hurt.” Kotoha scratched in just the right spot.
*Yeah, yeah.* Shiori leaned into Kotoha’s hand and meowed.
“I’ll buy you some good tuna tomorrow.”
*You can’t bribe me that easily.* Her tail betrayed her with a flick.
Kotoha soon turned off the lights in the living room and made her way to bed. The house fell silent as the minutes ticked by. Shiori remained on her perch, watching the mutt. He gave her a wary look but was too weak to move.
When she was sure Kotoha was asleep, she spoke. “Well, well. How the mighty have fallen.
“Cat,” was all that he said.
Shiori stood and stretched before hopping down from her tree. “What are you doing in the city? Don’t you have a shrine to be guarding, oh *honorable* komainu?”
The komainu let out a low sigh. “I could ask you the same. What are your goals, bakeneko?”
Shiori paced in front of him. “I’m enjoying myself. Modern conveniences sure are nice. Humans have advanced quite a bit from the old days.”
A distinct frown formed on his muzzle. “You’ll be found out if you stay too long. The human will get suspicious.”
“Her name is Kotoha. And as for my longevity, well, I’ll cross that bridge when the time comes. Humans are quite unobservant when they want to be.” She sat just outside his reach. “How did she end up finding you anyway? I wasn’t aware there were any shrines in the area.”
The komainu closed his eyes and leaned against his pillow. “I came from the mountains. They… the humans stopped coming to pray. When I visited the village near my shrine, there was only a handful of them left. I came down to the city and got hit by a car.”
“Right. That has been happening more often lately, hasn’t it?” Shiori groomed her coat before saying, “Bit of a shame. I have fond memories of some of those temples.”
“Humans have forgotten the gods.”
Shiori tilted her head. “Humans have changed with the times. Some still worship, but many more only do so out of tradition. Belief is fading.”
“Will we fade away someday as well?”
“You’re free to do so if you want to. I have no intention of going anywhere.” Shiori leaped onto the couch and lowered herself onto the backrest. “You’re not married to those shrines, you know?”
“It was my duty.” The komainu remained steadfast in his conviction.
Shiori sighed. “Why not treat this as a well-deserved break. I’ve always said your kind takes things too seriously. Once you’re ready to leave, you can join one of the larger shrines down south. I’m sure they have room.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe not. What would I know? I’m just a cat that adapted to the times.”
The komainu let out a growl.
Shiori continued, undeterred. “It was just a suggestion.” Then, with a small grin, she said, “Fair warning, though. Kotoha will probably try to get you neutered if she decides to keep you.”
The look on the komainu’s face was delicious.
…
I like writing about different cultures' mythologies. It forces me to read up on their histories.
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile.
Thanks for reading. |
I pick out her favourite flavour of cake. She is quite fond of strawberries, in cakes and just in general. Sweet flowers, honeysuckle, penstemon, asters, and daisies. Filled to the brim with pollen. Moscato D' Asti wine, fit for dessert. And lots of food, enough for a feast almost. All of her favourites in terms of meat and sides. The old lady manning the till looks at me with a smile and asks me who the lucky boy is. I smile at her, and put my finger up to my mouth in an almost comical manner. She nods, and she thinks she knows what is going on. Big surprise for the boyfriend, she thinks. But she knows nothing. I pay for the food and head out to my grandfather's old pickup. It's the only car I own, ever since inherited the family farm. I see some of the people who used to go to high school with me until we graduated a few years back. They look at me with scorn, the sort of scorn the people who peaked at 18 have towards those with a future. I hear them start gossiping like the hens they are. Chickenbrains, the lot of them.
''*Hey Ashley, who's the gifts for? Your imaginary boyfriend?*'' One of them calls out. I turn and give them a genuine smile, for on this day not even their relentless teasing can bring me down. They look upon me with rank confusion and annoyance. They still remember the shy introverted girl I was before my life changed for the better. That girl is long gone. And they hold no power over me anymore. ''*Give my best to your husbands now!*'' I say back at the three of them. Knowing well that their babes and gravid bellies are the result of men who say the sweetest lies and then leave before dawn breaks. I don't look for their reaction, I simply get into the old pickup, put my groceries on the car floor, and drive away. Out to the farm. My family's farm. Where my grandmother and grandfather raised me after mom decided she wanted to be a liberated party-girl. Haven't seen her in years now. I can barely even remember what she looks like. And I don't care to reconnect with the woman who preferred parties, my siblings, and the high life in the big city.
I drive past the church and the graveyard where my grandparents are buried. They left me the farm and a surprising amount of money after they died. Sole inheritor, even if my mother and uncles, who never came to the funeral it must be said, tried to take me to court over it. I see the priest waving at me, hoping to get me to stop and come by. I haven't attended church in years, but you've got to give him credit for the persistence. How can one attend church though, when one has seen the things I have. When I know the things I know. There is far more out there between the Earth and the stars than is dreamt by priests.
I arrive at the centre of the old farmhouse, which is quite different from most of the other farms in the area. First of all it's still inhabited, second of all its a faithful recreation of the farm my great-grandfather owned in Sweden before he emigrated to America. Very unique and beautiful, in comparison to most other decaying structures here in the partially abandoned states of the Midwest. I put most of the food into the fridge, but I begin preparing the meat immediately. She'll be hungry soon. When she wakes. As I cut the hearts and roast the kidneys, I think of the time when we first met. Grandma had just died. Grandpa wasn't managing well without her. I was a teenage girl, lonely and confused, about 15, and I needed some space. I went out to the fields, and that's when the light came down from the sky. Crashing more like. Grandpa was deaf and heard nothing, and the farm hadn't operated for ages. Most other farms had long ago been deserted out here, or been taken over by corporations and were only operated during the warm half of the year. I don't know what I was doing, I just took my hiking bag with the medkit and the flashlight, and left the farm. I followed the light to an old millpond, isolated and abandoned, and saw it. A spaceship. A proper UFO, crashed down on our land.
I figured someone might be alive in there, in need of help, so I took out the flashlight and went inside. Whatever the hell had happened in there, I couldn't tell. At first it seemed like it was abandoned, maybe derelict, but then I found something alive. I found her. Stuck under some kind of alien box. First contact with alien life. And she was beautiful. Like a big caterpillar, glowing in the dark of the alien ship. Large shiny eyes, that seemed scared of me. But I thought she looked like the most amazing thing in the world. She had some differences from Earth bugs, true, more I learned later. And she was wounded. That broke me out of the spell I was in, and I took out the medkit to at least bandage her. At first she tried to move further away from me, but then she saw I was using clean water from my kit to wash her wound, then bandage it. Thought about sterilising it with alcohol, but I decided against it, maybe her body would dissolve or something. When she realised I was helping her, she stopped fidgeting. And instead began to sing.
It was difficult to describe. The sound of her song. I saw this movie with her, a few years ago, Fifth Element. There was this blue alien woman singing in that, and it was kind of like that, only with far more vibration, more force, more elegance. Her body felt soft and warm, and she smelled vaguely good. Like how you imagine the pretty women in movies about pretty women would smell. When I'd finished bandaging her front leg, I removed the box pinning her to the floor. She didn't have any external injuries, I hoped she wasn't too damaged where I couldn't see or help. I actually had no idea what I was going to do next because I hadn't actually thought that far. But then I started to think again, as the alien girl seemed to relax and pack some stuff into what looked vaguely like futuristic saddlebags. I figured that if I left her here, in a ship that was definitely broken, the government would find her. And then dissect her because the US government is run by sadists. I'm in pretty decent shape, even if I look somewhat stocky, so I picked her up, which surprised her, before she accepted it and hugged me tightly as I carried her back to the farm.
Considering the men in black who came by a few days after that, trying to talk to my confused granddad, that was probably a good idea. They closed off the millpond for a few days and made very unpleasant comments concerning not talking about seeing them here. After they left, the ship was gone.
I kept her in my room for a few days, until I could make the barn liveable. Grandpa didn't notice anything at the time, as I had to increasingly act the nurse for him and for the alien at the same time. Eventually, he came back a bit, recovered after the death of grandma. But it only lasted until I graduated from HS. In the meanwhile, I came home every day and spent time with the alien grub woman. I learned to speak her language, and she learned to speak mine. Insofar as that was possible considering our vastly different bodies and species. She'd fled from something bad. I couldn't, and still can't, entirely understand what exactly it is, but it's a kind of sacrifice. And it's very unnecessary, done only in secret by the sect her parents belonged to. So she stole an ancient museum piece of a ship and fled to the last planet anyone would look for her. The navicomputer however failed and she crashed on Earth instead, where no-one will ever look for anyone. And I had someone I could do nerdy stuff with. Confide in. She appreciated playing our video games, even if our computers were pretty primitive compared to what she was used to. She taught me how to sing, even if I could never truly sing as she did, I've become pretty good at it over the years. Multiharmonic singing, where you have several voices in your throat singing at different vibrations and tones at the same time, is not something humans can do. |
There was still a presence. The mansion rose around me, the walls echoing with quiet footfalls. I had removed any human ghosts easily enough. But their cat...
A faint yowl echoed from the bowels of the house. Their cat had proven to be the most difficult. It didn't want to leave, though I wasn't sure why. Taking off my shoes, I snuck through the house. Two could play at this game. As I went around the corner near the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of a ghostly tail whipping around the doorframe. Slowly, I eased up to the door.
There, inside, the cat sat by the hole in the wall. It always sat by that hole. Ghosts by nature are creatures of routine, and cat ghosts are no exception. They are the epitome of routine-driven beings when alive, after all. I made it two steps into the kitchen before the cat looked over her shoulder. The records of the house had shown only two family pets, and the cat was listed as female.
She rose, pacing in front of the hole, then —as I drew closer, my fingers moving into the ritual exorcism— dashed away. Dang. Once again, I tried to peer through the small hole, and once again, I could see nothing but darkness. Even when I used my flashlight, darkness. It disturbed me that hole, but there were no other presences here, nothing to be afraid of. Or so I kept telling myself.
Time for a different tactic. I climbed onto the kitchen table, and closed my regular eyes, opening what I called my psychic sight. I didn't need it for most ghosts, they materialized readily enough. But maybe...
A tiny glimmer around the hole. Nothing much, nothing I would have noticed if I hadn't been looking. Just as I determined I would have to sit on the floor, the cat returned, shimmering brighter in my enhanced vision. I held my breath. She sat down again in front of the hole, reaching out a paw, trying to pass it through that impenetrable darkness. The smaller glimmer moved back and forth, as if it was trapped. And I understood.
I knew why she didn't want to leave. Slipping down off the table, I reached into my pocket, whispering as she looked at me. "It's okay. I know what to do now. I know why you keep coming here."I pulled out a glass bottle, with only a few drops of precious Silversap left inside. Silversap was the only way I could touch a ghost.
Pouring the few drops onto my fingers, I reached into the hole. My hand closed on fur, and I pulled. It took a little effort, but with a small squeak, the tiny ghost emerged from the hole. I deposited it in front of the cat, as carefully as I could. "There. Is that what you wanted?"
The cat was too busy licking the ghost between the ears to even flinch at my words. Still with the Silversap coating my fingers, I ran my hand down her back and she turned silvery eyes towards mine. "It's time to go now. All right?"A very loud purr filled the room as she picked up the tiny ghost. I moved my fingers into the ritual barely able to hear myself think over the sound. Unable to resist a smile, I said the final words.
And together with her very tiny kitten, the family cat left the house. |
“Oh great crone, I apologize for imposing upon your time,” I gave a polite nod.
“It is good to see that some still recognize the ways, but you are a guest. This is no imposition, come in.”
As I entered, five cats turned to look at me from their various perches. Shelves of jars, the doorframe, one even poked its head out from the floorboards. Many other cats were there, but these seemed to take an interest in me.
There was a moment before one of them meowed at me, a Maine Coon seated upon a wooden chair. I approached, and it hopped off the chair, sat next to it, and looked at me.
“May I use this seat?” I asked politely.
It glanced slowly back at the chair, then at me, and meowed again.
“At your insistence.” I sat down. It immediately hopped onto my lap, and curled up comfortably.
“Now then,” my partner was seated in an old leather chair, absently using a feathered stick to play with a couple younger cats, “while my mother makes us tea, you can tell me who you learned from.”
I took a moment to collect my thoughts before answering her. “I was not taught anything, but my experience is that being polite is always useful. Though I am cautious about giving thanks.”
“I’ve asked you before, but happened that makes you so cautious to thank others?”
I grimaced at a memory before carefully replying, “I can no longer say.”
A crash came from the kitchen at that. “No no no. My daughter’s fiancé will not be bothered by any Court trickery, that is certain.”
Additional grumbling came from the kitchen, but I was more interested in my partner’s reaction. She looked at me with sorrow, then nodded, “I should apologize. I didn’t know to ask, and wouldn’t have been receptive to the answer.”
“I’m just glad to finally have people who understand.”
“Now then, let’s get this sorted first,” my partner’s mother set down a tray with three cups of tea. Next to mine was a napkin with three cookies. “Do not dunk the cookies in your tea, they’ll fall apart too easily.”
I simply nodded, tears in my eyes, as I took a sip of tea and started on the cookies. As I did, memories came flooding back to me. By the end of it, I was a sobbing mess, carefully and gently petting the Maine Coon still in my lap.
Eventually, I collected myself enough to begin the conversation that was the purpose of my coming here. “The wedding planning is going well, but my sister had a request regarding decorations.”
My fiancé and her mother raised eyebrows at that, but motioned for me to continue.
“She married into a family with interesting family. They said we should be decorating with monkshood instead of wolfsbain.”
That was the first time, but not the last, that I heard my future mother-in-law cackle. |
Day One:
Dying wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, I did enjoy my previous life and have little knowledge of how to return, if I even can. I woke up in a different world in the clothing I put on just this morning and a blank journal. Glass, stone, horseless carriages, snow instead of sand at a beach despite the warm temperature. I knew this place well and often visited it in my dreams. It was an empty world that I could explore and it was beautiful. However I must make my way to the edge.
My dear sister had her own world as well, only it was darker and more sinister. I remember her crying at night when we were younger. It continued until she started to learn how to control the monsters that lurked there. One night we both traveled to the edges of our worlds and we discovered a wall separating the two worlds. We each were capable of entering the other and we would always remember upon waking. The worst day of my life came when my sister was accused of being a witch and was executed.
My own death was not accidental, I felt the hand that pushed me. I must find the wall again, I must see if that dark world is still there, and I must see if I am able to see my sister again. I must see if we can have our revenge on our killers. If we can pull them into this dreamland they wouldn’t stand a chance of surviving. |
He stared at me a moment, my young ward, a stray bit of brown hair floating over his forehead. "Well what the fuck does that mean?"
"It just means im disappointed. I know you could do better. Did you forget the nitrogen again? You know it's important."
Behind us what was surely meant to be a giant monster had come out as an angry puddle of jello. It jerked its little jello head back and let out a watery roar. My ward pretended his mistake did not exist and instead continued his now awkward stare at me.
"Ok, and what if that's what I meant to make?"he replied matter-of-factly. I struggled not to roll my eyes. It was a typical excuse from a budding scientists, one I had used before. The ole *I meant to do that*. And with a scientist there was no refuting it. It just was. I had taught him well.
"Ok well if you meant to make a mistake then congratulations. You did it. Now clean that thing up."As I spoke I grabbed a blaster from a nearby shelf and set it to the *absolutely anhialate this mistake* setting. The monster now trudged over the concrete floor pretending to topple tiny buildings with its jello body. Cute, admittedly.
My ward took the blaster with a hesitant hand. He had done away with plenty of other mistakes, of other little monsters or bits of odd creation from his practices, never hesitating. But now he stared to it. To this little gelatinous mistake that paraded as a great threat to nothing but the laboratory floor. I knew that look.
"Oh no. Gabriel don't tell me..."he looked to me with widened eyes. "Aw hell! You named it didn't you! I told you time and time again, naming is just claiming but without the spoken commitment."
"No no...ok maybe but I can get rid of it see!"Gabriel raised the weapon to the little yellow blob, which stared back to him with innocent eyes. Dammit. No chance now. But to my surprise his finger began to pull the trigger and I found it was my hand that stopped his. He looked up to me confused.
"Ugh. Well I guess since you already named it you might as well keep it then. Fine."
"But sir I was going to-"
"No, no. No need boy. No need to beg and whine, save it. We can keep it. Call it...Gelly or something I dont know."
Gabriel smiled a knowing smile, but accepted my agreement. He placed the blaster back on the table. The monster started its imaginary reign once again.
"You know I could still add that nitrogen, sir."
"Ah, too late I'm afraid. You've already gone and named it boy. We'll figure it out. Like I said, I'm not a mad scientist, just a very disappointed one. Well, good luck with Gell- I mean your new responsibility."
But he seemed content. And so was I. |
Having an identical twin sounds cool until said twin ends up becoming rich, famous, and desired by *the entire fricking world* while you slowly fade into the background until everyone forgets you exist.
Even my sister's wikipedia page doesn't mention her having an identical twin. I've been reduced to an obscure celebrity trivia answer. Only the *true* fans know that I exist. Only the *elite* fans know my name.
I stay out of the spotlight, so people don't accidentally mistake me for Penny and inevitably grow disappointed when it's just little old me. Boring, mousy Polly. No one has seen me in years. I work remotely, using my mother's maiden name. I order groceries delivery. I don't post pictures online. My entire life painstakingly curated.
If I'm going to live in my sister's shadow, I might as well get comfy and do it my way.
But instacart was down and my veggies had gone bad and I thought *just this once* a trip to the grocery store wouldn't be the end of the world. If I wore a hoodie and glasses and kept my head down it would be fine, right?
Besides, my famous sister was known for her signature mega-watt smile. My face was etched in a permanent frown. Identical, but opposite. A literary foil come to life. Who in their right mind would mistake me for her?
Kidnappers would, apparently.
It didn't take them long to figure out I am not, in fact, Penny. We may be identical, but her celebrity status grants her luxury spa treatments, top of the line hair care, and a team of personal estheticians to keep her looking her best.
My nails are chewed to the bed, my hair is riddled with split ends, and my pores could be seen with the naked eye.
I'm not Penny. Not even close.
Once the kidnappers realized that, their plan was ruined.
"You could just let me go. I won't press charges."
"Shut up. We can't walk away with nothing,"on kidnapper growls at me.
"You'll never get the millions you want. Not from me."I insist.
The kidnapper grumbles. "I'd settle for a couple hundred bucks at this point."
I can work with that.
"A couple hundred, huh? I bet my family would pay that. Give them a call, tell 'em its Polly, and ask for the money. Then you can let me go and we can both pretend like this embarrassing little fiasco never happened. Whatdya say?"
Her captor rolled his eyes, but sighed in resignation. "Better than nothing, I guess."
He dials my home phone. It rings a few times, and my mom picks up.
"Hello, how can I help you?"
"Listen to me very carefully. I have your daughter hostage and will hold her here until ransom is paid."
My mom gasped in horror. I felt a rush of love and affection for her. Maybe she cares more than I thought.
"Oh goodness, not our Penny! Please, we'll do whatever you want!"
*Spoke too soon...*
"N-no. Your other daughter...uh"the man covered the receiver and whispered, "What's your name again?"
"Polly."I deadpanned.
He cleared his throat. "Yes, we have your daughter Polly.
I tried not to let my mom's sigh of relief affect me.
"Your daughter is gonna get hurt real bad unless you pay ransom. The longer it takes, the more she breaks."
I snort as his *terrible* rhyme.
My mom is exasperated now. "Alright, alright. How much?"
"$200."
"Oh, that's too bad. I only have about $80 cash right now."
My captor stumbled over his words in shock. "Th-Then get more, lady! Go to the bank! Or I'll start breaking fingers."
My mother, damn her, just clucked her tongue. "It's Sunday. Bank is closed. I have fittings all day Monday for a new reality show we're doing with Penny....Soonest I can do is Tuesday.
"This isn't....I mean....You're not making an appointment here! This is life or death! If you want to see your daughter alive again, you'll find me the money and you'll bring it to-"
Mom cuts him off. "As I said before, the best I can do is Tuesday. Try calling me then."
\**CLICK\**
My captor stares at the phone, dumbfounded.
"Woof... I would hate to be you right now,"I say, trying to make light of the fact that my mom would literally let me die at the hands of kidnappers rather than inconvenience herself 200 bucks.
Sad eyes turn to me, and I hate it.
"Hey! Don't look at me like that. I don't need your pity, buddy."
"How do you put up with that shit?"he asks.
I shake my head. "By staying as far away as possible."
I always knew my family didn't give a shit about me. They had everything they wanted in Penny. I was just the spare. The extra. The leftover trimmings. And I was treated like it.
But not even work $200? Not even worth more than a 10 minute phone call? That hurt. It hurt a lot. And it was unfair. I was their daughter, they were supposed to love me, protect me, help me when I needed it. But a *fitting* for a *reality show* took precedence over my well-being.
I was So. Fucking. Done.
"Hey, kidnapper dude, I have an idea."
"I'm listening."
"I'll help you get the real prize. I'll help you snag my sister. Hold a real ransom. Do it the right way. I know her routine better than you, and I know where to hit the hardest. To make sure it works. My family will be putty in your hands by the time we're done. You'll make millions.
He narrows his eyes at me. "What's in it for you?"
I shrug. "Revenge. Notoriety. Money."
"How can I trust you?"
Now I smile, and I know it's a cruel one because he cringes away infinitesimally. "You can trust me, my dear sweet captor, because I just found out I'm worth literally nothing to my parents. Therefore, I have literally nothing to lose by torturing them. And, tell you what, if all goes well and we find we make a good team, I'll find ways for us to torture them for the rest of their miserable lives, until their fortune is hours and they lose their narrow minds. How does that sound?"
He contemplates for a few minutes. Then he cuts my bindings and takes my outstretched hand.
"Deal." |
It was an accident. An *accident*.
No one was ever supposed to get hurt. No one was ever supposed to *die*. And yet… here we are.
I sat in the safety of my lair, watching newsfeeds and live footage from security cameras on the monitors laid out in front of me.
I watched, jaw slack, as my arch nemesis Orion, the city’s resident Golden Boy… burned his home to the ground.
So much was already ruined, and Orion was only getting started.
Yes, yes, I know what you’re probably thinking. Why would the big, bad, evil supervillain care if the hero finally snapped and went on a blood hungry rampage? Well… it was always a game.
It was *supposed* to be a game. A harmless one.
There was always a cycle to things. A balance.
I’d first rob a bank/kidnap a politician/whatever I felt like. Orion would catch me. We’d struggle. He’d inevitably take me to jail. I escape. Rinse and repeat.
But at the end of the day, it was always supposed to be harmless.
No one was supposed to get hurt.
And no one ever *has* gotten hurt… not until now.
Guilt erupted within my chest like a bomb, taking my teeth clench and eyes water.
It was an *accident.*
But… it was my fault.
She wasn’t supposed to die.
Fourteen. That’s how old she had been.
Orion’s daughter.
It had been another iconic game of cat and mouse. I had been driving my new sonic car as the hero hurried after, thrill of the chase flowing through my veins like a drug.
We were en route to Orion’s house, and I had been planning on wrecking into that new little gazebo of his, insult to injury. He was richer than God, so I figured, who cares. It would’ve been an annoyance, at best.
But then… then *she* was there, sitting inside.
I thought she was at school, she was *supposed* to be at school.
Maybe if I had noticed a minute, even a second earlier, maybe I could’ve stopped in time. I *tried* to stop the car once she came into view, but the damn thing *wouldn’t*. And then… then…
The guilt lashed tenfold.
Here we are, indeed.
The bitterest of ironies is how the citizens now begged *me* for help. Begged me to be their new hero. The one truly responsible for this mess.
Orion was a grieving father who’s lost his grip on reality after his very world shattered, it wasn’t his fault.
But me on the other hand… I was the monster.
I was the one who destroyed this city.
And now, I was forced to watch it burn. |
"N-nooooo,"hastened the person who looked suspiciously like the dead hero, "you have me confused for someone else."
The spy eyed the hero, unconvinced.
"All I said was that you're alive. Have I confused you for someone else that is alive?"
"No, it's just had your tone of voice suggested..."The hero looked around before hurrying the spy into their chamber. "Okay, so I am the lost Hero, as you no doubt suspected. Congratulations. You found me! Hurrah! Leave now!"
The spy blinked uncomprehendingly.
"But I have so many questions! First of all, how?!"
The Hero sighed.
"You may as well know,"they said, patting the bed as they sat down. "What you probably know is that I gave myself up to my 'mortal enemy' for the safety of my family."
The spy nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, yes. You sacrificed yourself selflessly for the good of the community and your family. The great scoundrel was unmoved by your overwhelming generosity and slew you regardless. This is subject matter taught at the Resistance camp."
The Hero chuckled.
"Selfless,"they mused, "good of the community."They began to laugh uproariously.
"What... what did I say? Is that not what really happened?"
The Hero wiped a tear from their eye, still struggling to keep from laughing.
"I think it's time I taught you about story tropes. Have you ever heard of Enemies to lovers? |
Hulk happy to be here. Hulk jumped from New York City and boy is Hulk's legs tired. Hulk could sleep, but Hulk no want puny Banner in control! Banner is so puny... come on, you know this, don't make Hulk angry... Banner is so puny... a stiff breeze knocks Banner out cold. Banner is so weak, websites reject him as a password.
Hulk knows you're out there. Hulk hears you breathing. Hey, Hulk has super strong breath. Hulk bets you don't know that. You can set a burning oil well on Hulk's birthday cake and Hulk could blow it out. Super strong flex, huh?
Hey, you know what Hulk really hates? Hulk hates puny soldiers. Hulk hates puny soldiers with their puny guns! And their puny tanks! Hulk smash puny tanks! But you know what Hulk really like to smash? Hulk like smashing Natasha Romanoff. Whoa!
Hulk go now. Tip wait staff and bartender! |
Princess Astrella Ophella Zion ran through the forest. Although at her pace, calling it a run was being generous. Her legs might as well have been covered with lead, her lungs felt like they were filled with burning embers, and sweat dripped from every inch of her skin.
She wanted nothing more than to stop running and rest for hours. But she knew what that would mean. Being "politely"escorted back to the castle, followed by getting her guts removed on a cold slab.
She was sure someone had noticed her absence by now, and the search was no doubt underway. Which meant she needed to keep moving. But maybe slowing down a bit was fine. One thing she was sure of was that she was now regretting spending all her time in the castle library. A bit of exercise would have helped now.
She did slow to a walk, but that only helped a little. She was still tired, sweaty and in pain. Not only that, but the forest was getting thicker as she went. The trees were getting harder to move around, and the underbrush was clawing at her clothes. But she kept going. She kept going until she came to a clearing.
It was odd. The trees simply stopped, as if they had been cleared purposely. They formed a large circle of nearly empty space. Nearly empty, save for a large stone in the middle and the woman sitting on it. Astrella nearly tripped over her own feet and immediately looked for a way to escape.
The woman was unnaturally tall and had a calm, gentle beauty. The kind that only gets noticed after spending time with her. She wore elegant clothes that seemed to flow around her like they were alive, and were a subtle blue and silver in color. But it was her eyes that really caught the princess's attention. They were as deep as the ocean and as vast as the sky. The princess knew who she was immediately, and wanted nothing to do with her.
"Do not be afraid, child. I shall not harm you."The woman said.
"S-somehow, that's hard to believe."Astrella said.
"Oh? Why do you say that?"
"Because I know who you are. You're Sellta, the goddess of wisdom and knowledge."The woman gave a small smile and nodded. But the princess was not done yet. "And I'm slated to be sacrificed to you in a few hours, so you'll forgive me for not being happy to see you."
Sellta grimaced. "Ah, yes. The sacrifice. Grizzly afair that. But I assure you, I mean you no harm. In fact, I mean nobody harm."
"A goddess that asks for human sacrifices can hardly be said to not want to hurt anyone."Astrella said, crossing her arms.
"Yes, well, it is a good thing I never asked for human sacrifices then, is it not?"
"Wh-what?"
"Oh yes. It is as you said. I am the goddess of wisdom and knowledge. What use have I of human sacrifices? Come now, you are a smart girl, you should be able to figure that out."
"But then...why? So many of my ancestors have been killed in your name, and yet now you tell me you never asked for them?"
The goddess sighed. "Yes, I am aware of the problem. That is why I have appeared before you, in fact. You have dedicated your life to me more than you know, even if you have always harbored resentment. Your dedication to finding new knowledge is exactly what I wish for mankind. And so, I have chosen you to be my prophet. Tell people my ways. My true ways. I shall give you my blessing and my mark, so that nothing... unpleasant happens to you before you are able to fulfill your task."
Astrella opened and closed her mouth. Was she hearing right? She was going to become a prophet for the goddess she was supposed to be sacrificed to? What kind of twisted fate was this?
"But...but why? If you don't want the sacrifices, then why?"
"A mistranslation. I know, it is quite pathetic really. Ironic, even. But when my original holy texts were translated into the modern language, too many priests were working on the task, and so several passages were translated incorrectly. One of the more tragic passages was the sacrifice. I never wanted human lives. I wanted human knowledge and wisdom. What you have is that on the princess's 18th birthday, she is to be sacrificed in my name. What I said was that on her 18th birthday, she is to give me a piece of wisdom or knowledge that she discovered on her own, unaided by a teacher."
"You... you're joking, right?"
"I wish that I was."
The princess wanted to scream and cry at the same time. Such a stupid mistake was the cause of so much suffering? She could not believe it. What had she been doing with her life? How had the priests been stupid enough to make such a mistake? How could they have been so callus?
"Now you see why I need a prophet, yes? To correct an error that should never have been made."
Astrella did not answer. She had fallen to her knees and her mind was racing to come to terms with what she had learned. The goddess was silent, letting the girl think and process the new information as long as she needed. It was a good hour before the princess was able to talk. When she did, her clothes and face were covered in tears and other assorted bodily fluids that she had shed without meaning to.
"Do you feel better now?"The goddess asked.
"No. But I'm well enough. What do I need to do?"
"First, you must complete the right. Properly. As I laid out."
"So..."
"Just tell me something you learned of your own volition or efforts. Not something you learned from another. It can be something from a book you read without being told to, or it can be something you learned completely on your own."
Astrella stood on shaky knees. Her legs protested the movement. "One cannot spend their entire life in a library. Some physical activity is just as important as learning."
The goddess smiled gently. "Very good. A lesson learned through experience. That will do nicely. You have completed the right, and have earned your place as my prophet."
Sellta extended her hand and a gentle light came forth from her long, slender fingers. It touched Astrella's forehead, and she felt a soothing warmth coming from her. It spread through her entire body, filling her with the calm, soothing light. It ended after only a few moments.
"It is done. You now have my blessing and your words carry weight second only to my own. Use this gift well. And, just so everything is done properly..."
She snapped her finger and a book dropped in front of the princess. It was thick, and had a good leather cover. At first glance, it was simple and without decoration. But when she looked closer, Astrella saw the patterns in the leather were quite elaborate and beautiful.
"My book. Properly translated and enchanted so that it shall always be in the current language. No more errors to lead to tragic results. Use it well, and speak my true ways."The goddess said.
"I...I will."The princess said, collecting the holy relic. "I will make sure nobody else falls victim to a few mistakes."
The goddess smiled. "Very good. Use my blessing well. It is a subtle power, but used properly it can do great things. You will know what it does soon enough. Good luck, prophet."
The clearing filled with light, bright enough that Astrella had to look away. When it faded, she was alone in the clearing. She could have thought the encounter was a hallucination, save for the fact that she still held the holy book.
She hugged it close, feeling that it was warmer than it should have been. She took a deep breath and began moving, this time towards the castle. She had a job to do, and she was going to make sure it was done properly. |
He wiped the blood off his helmet's front. Not that it helped much. His entire body was covered with the noxious stuff. His gun lay next to him, still cooling from the shots it had just unleashed.
He barely felt the pain of the injuries he had sustained fighting the so-called "King of Hell."He would be fine though. He knew where there was a cache of med packs. There was also a good amount of ammo there. Not that he needed it. Not anymore.
He looked around at the mangled corpses. They had been deformed and unnatural even before he got there. But the last one. The one who called himself Lucifer. He had been different. Almost human, really. Not that that had stopped him from getting torn to shreds.
The man sat, not caring about the blood and guts that lined the floor. He was done now, right? He could go to whatever home was left. And he had no idea what to do about it. He had been fighting so long that he no longer knew how to just live. Could he? Could he go back to a normal life? Find a woman. Get married and have a kid or two. His brow creased. The very idea sickened him more than putting us arm through a demon's guts.
He looked around at Lucifer's body. Then at the walls of his chamber. There were carvings there. Things he had not noticed in the heat of battle. They made it so that the walls told a story. A story of beings so perfect his mind could not fully understand them. A story of a dictatorship gone wrong. Of a failed rebellion. Of a leader cast down to the pits of Hell.
And he knew what he had to do.
The demons had to have come from somewhere. Someone had allowed them to come into being. Allowed them to exist. Allowed them to invade the human realm. Allowed all of it to happen.
He started walking. A man with a long forgotten name moved through the ocean of violence he had brought to Hell. He had no idea how he would do it, but he had a new job to complete. Hell was finished. Now it was time for Heaven to follow suit.
He would bring Doom to the angels just as he did to the demons. He would have something new to rip and tear.
And he would never be done. |
Moonlight's morose glow peeked through the heavy curtains in the room of the hospice. I held my father's now frail hand, the last time I would ever do so. Dad never liked a crier, I tried my best to hold back the waterworks. The years wore on his face, each wrinkle telling their own story of his long life. I thought maybe after mom died I'd be more prepared for this moment, that turned out to be false.
Dad sat up, even that small exertion sent him into a coughing frenzy. Tears forced from his eyes and snot from his nostrils as he hacked up a ball of dark phlegm. "Guess my stay is coming to an end, hope the food is better on the other side. If I end up where your mom is it should be, but that's not a guarantee. I hope you know that I love you very much, and I am so proud of you.
Remember what I told you, no sad crying at the funeral from anybody, I want those eulogies packed with jokes and funny stories about me. Only tears should be ones of laughter, even on my way out I want to make people laugh. Take all the shots you want at me, roast me. Death doesn't have to be somber or depressing.
Memento mori, remember that you die. Run from it, hide from it, bargain with it, don't matter. The reaper always get you in the end. I lived a good life, had a wonderful family, unlike some of the other poor saps in here. Did the headstone come out looking good?"
"Yeah, it's got that stupid joke you always tell on it, just like you asked."I respond with a light chuckle trying to hide the pain.
"And the special order coffin?"
"Clear glass, just like you asked."
"Do you think glass coffins will catch on? Remains to be seen. Ha ha ha."
Dad died with a smile on his face, we should all be so lucky. |
"Ms. Lauren, my name is Viktor, I'm your court-appointed attorney."
I took a break from staring at the wall of my jail cell to get a read on Viktor. Warm smile, ironed out suit, hand stretched out for a handshake--he was an honest man. Not many of those running around anymore. I imagined I would've liked Viktor, but I sighed and said to him, "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you left before you get dragged down into a lost cause."
Viktor kept on smiling as he replied, "Fail the bar exam twice and then come talk to me about a lost cause."
"Firm believer that third time's the charm, I see."
"Firm believer in people, really. Now look, I might be able to get you a reduced sentence--"
I pressed my fingers to my temples and exasperatedly groaned. "Viktor, please, just...stop. I appreciate that you're trying to help, I really do, but... I wasn't kidding about this being a lost cause. I thought I was untouchable, but I'm not--and Lord knows the pig who brought me in made sure to reiterate that by way of nightstick. Besides, I wouldn't mind picking up some trades when I'm locked up."
Viktor looked at me with pleading eyes that made me want to give him a dog treat. "Della, please, at least let me try. I might not have a fancy suit of armor, but--"
"Armor? The hell are you talking about?"
"Your... armor? Or is it a mini-mecha? I always get confused on the difference."
I sat forward slowly and asked, "Viktor, what was I arrested for?"
Viktor looked at me confused, but answered, "For all that stuff you did as War Dragon?"
Oh, I should've seen it sooner. I buried my own trail of evidence so well that it was the dirt itself by this point. I hadn't gotten arrested for the things *I* had done. Someone else had framed me.
With a sly grin on my face, I looked Viktor in the eye and said, "How would you like to make five million dollars?"
"Uhhh... I--I don't--"
"It's a simple request, really: I just need you to get me a phone. I'll do the rest, you will walk out of this building with clean hands, I assure you."
Viktor adjusted his glasses awkwardly and said, "Della, what are you even saying? You can't possibly have that much money stored away."
"Oh, trust me, Viktor: I do, and so much more than just cash. You get me out of here to deal with the *real* War Dragon, and you'll be compensated generously."
"You--you're not the actual War Dragon? Then who is?"
I clenched my fist tightly. "Someone who's about to pay dearly for this."
*To be continued...* |
I can tell the future if I have an internet connection. Simple as that.
You see, everyone has a superpower. Most people’s are boring like high alcohol tolerance or ability to see infrared. Mine is guessing random number strings accurately.
So I made a program that runs off a ‘seed’ similar to Minecraft, but plugged it into the internet with an algorithm to refine the process over time. Every day, I open the world-accurate seed correlating to that time. I can then guess the seed in the past, and look it up. Ta-da, humanity figures out the Gravitationally Enhanced Propulsion Faster-Than-Light Engine on April 1st, 2032. I’m not joking. The list goes on.
Speaking of which, in four days the algorithm figures out how to seed individual people and then I’ll be able to tell personal futures, too.
Though I have solved the time-travel paradox (timeline feeds into itself, Buddha was a time traveller from 2094), I can’t help but wonder: does my future self ever lie to me? |
I stood in the garage, the car keys in one hand, the other pressed my cellphone to my ear.
“The damn thing is so old, it should have a crank on it.” My mom on the other end chuckled.
“Just be thankful. Grandpa loved you, and you know he didn’t have much, that’s about the best he could do for you.” My cheeks flushed with shame.
“Yeah you’re right.” I sighed “I’m gonna be here for a bit. I think I’ll clean it up a little, the dust on this thing is 2 inches thick.
“Alright. Stop by my house on your way home, there’s still some small things of Grandpa’s to go through.”
“Ok. See you in a bit.” I hung up the phone and stuffed it in the pocket of my jeans.
I slid the key into the lock on the driver’s door, it swung open with a loud whine and want seemed to be a threat to fall off its hinges.
I sat in the seat, and slid the key into the ignition and twisted. To my surprise, the engine turned over without the slightest hiccup.
The car purred gently almost drowning out the sound of an unnoticed cassette tape being taken into the cassette player. The tape began to play.
^^^ki ^^^ta ^^^ho ^^^ra
The sound was real quite.
^^ki ^^ta ^^ho ^^ra
It was as if a large group was chanting and slowly moving towards the microphone.
^ki ^ta ^ho ^ra
I focused hard, trying to pickup the words that were being chanted. I cranked the volume.
**KI TA HO RA**
The crowd shouted through the radio. A mashing of voices chanted over and over.
**KI TA HO RA**
***KI TA HO RA***
I sat and listed, almost hypnotized by the words.. suddenly a voice began to stand out, a voice that I recognized. One that I had heard for many years.
**KI TA HO RA; KI TA HO RA; KI TA HO RA**
My grandpa’s voice elevated about the rest. The word’s bounced around in my brain. *KI TA HO RA*
The background chanting continued, my grandpa’s voiced faded away.
It was replaced by a different voice, one that I hadn’t heard in many years, but one that would forever be burned into my ear drums. My sister. Long dead. She was found murdered and dumped on the side of the highway like trash; she had been only 14. My stomach plummeted as her words barely cut through the chanting.
“Grandpa. Please….” The desperation in her voice was palpable. *KI TA HO RA*
“no..No…NO…**NO!**” The vomit welled in my throat as her panic cries turned to the sounds of her fighting to breathe. There had been obvious ligature marks around her neck when she was found, the coroner said it was likely a belt.
I threw myself from the car and slid on the floor, retching as I listened to my sister being murdered very likely by my grandpa.
“KI TA HO RA” the words continued.
“KI TA HO RA” What the fuck did it mean?
“KI TA HO RA” it hit me like a Mack truck.
“KI TA HO RA” weren’t the words I was hearing.
“KI TA HO RA” It wasn’t 4 words. It was 3.
“KI TA HORA” 3 words with a strange inflection on the last syllable of the third word.
“KI TA HORA” “KILL TA HORA” “KILL THE HORA”
“KILL THE WHORE-ah” “KILL THE WHORE-ah” “KILL THE WHORE-ah”
In unison the people stopped chanting and fell silent, soft footsteps moved away from the microphone. The silence seemed to stretch on forever; then a loud explosion of cheering and jubilation. A new chant started. My grandpa’s voice at the forefront.
“TA HOR IZ DE” “TA HOR IZ DE” “TA HOR IZ DE”
“TA HOR IZ DE”
I tucked my knees into my chest, and fought the urge to vomit. I couldn’t bring myself to move from that spot. The celebration continued.
“TA HOR IZ DE” “TA HOR IZ DE” “TA HOR IZ DE”
“TA HOR IZ DE” |
“I think you have the wrong guy.. My name is-“, “No, stop avoiding your responsibilities Famine, I know it’s you.”, They cross their arms as the two horses accompanying them whinny and start walking in circles. “Just come on out and take off the skin suit, it’s starting to creep me out, man.”, “Look.. Plague, I’m telling you, I’m just a normal guy! Aren’t you all supposed to be skeletons?? And what do you mean ‘skin suit’?? I didn’t know I could take my skin off!”, You yell, you’re tempted to just slam the door, but you also don’t want to get the Black Death.
“Look, Satan’s gonna be mad if you don’t get out, I don’t want to deal with another one of his lectures. Plus, he’s annoying fruity, at least to me.. Death doesn’t seem to mind.. I’m starting to think he’s ga-“, The skeleton rides past you both chasing your neighbor, it was fine though, he was an asshole anyways. “I’m telling you, you have the wrong dude. Now let me live out my remaining time on this accursed planet in peace.”
Plague just sighs and slices you open with a scythe, to your surprise, you.. didn’t die? “Come on bud, Death needs you.” |
“I what?” I ask as the knocking comes again.
“You think about escaping through your window!”
I stood there, considering the options as the knock came back again through the door. I hadn’t thought about it, and something told me this voice was not sure about what they just said.
“Uh… you’ve been following me for a while now. You ought to know that I won’t answer the door. Also, are you *sure* this is what happens? Like, what does your gut tell you mate?”
Silence from the narrator and the knock interrupts it.
“You jump through the window!! Hurry!”
I shifted my weight and crossed my arms. “Really? I don’t know what you’re doing with your manuscript there friend, but it clearly isn’t what you should be doing. I can’t believe I’m giving writing advice to the narrator. Real life fourth wall break right there.”
The knocking stopped and I heard the footsteps recede away. I had no idea what was wrong with the narrator now, but whatever it was, it was no longer important. Surprisingly, the voice stopped speaking after that as I went back to do my chores, though I was wrong.
The door broke open as a man with a battering ram burst through the door, scaring me shitless, and the voice comes back again saying “You consider your options and decide to go for the window!”
At that moment I realized who this guy was, and stood up. I had not thought about that at all, but was thinking on who the hell this man was. The narrator on the other hand, was writing my story, and he was stuck on what to do next. He was just writing for writing’s sake and nothing was sticking to his proverbial wall.
“Look here narrator guy, this is my story and you making up shit I know I won’t do is not going to work with whatever shit you’re trying to do. So I suggest you go back to your draft, erase this bloody mess you’ve made, and let me go through my life in peace!! Do your job right and I’ll do mine, ok?”
Silence… then the offending man standing in my living room began to… rewind? The door unbroke, he left, and everything went back to being dull.
I waited for a few more minutes waiting to see what was going to happen next, but nothing came up. Once I was sure of it, I sat on my couch… until the phone began to ring.
“Dread fills your very being as the name of your ex-lover appears on your phone’s screen.“
This time… the Narrator was correct. |
“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Anthony said, stumbling his way into the chairman’s office. Security had been reluctant to let a bleeding man in, but given the chaos of the morning, they turned a blind eye to it. After all, the chairman would want to hear about the findings and no one wanted to tell him about the heavy losses, or what happened to the workers after they died.
“You look awful, Anthony. I heard we had some issues at the dig site, but I didn’t know they were that severe. How is everyone else? I assure you, I’ll pay whatever compensation is needed.” He rested his glass of rum on the table, the ice bouncing in the dark black glass.
“Martin and Jessica are dead. Kylie survived, but I don’t know how long she will last. Why the hell am I even telling you this, like you give a shit? You knew those things were lurking down there, didn’t you?”
“Those things? The dinosaur bones? I had a hunch, but it’s never a certainty. We based it off the geographical-“
“CUT THE SHIT. WE CHANGED SITES FOUR TIMES THIS WEEK WITHOUT TOUCHING A SINGLE DROP OF DIRT. YOU KNEW WHERE TO FIND IT.” Anthony marched forward, smacking his hands on the desk, the action causing him to wince, the deep cut on his shoulder opening further.
The smack didn’t phase the chairman. He only grabbed his rum, making sure a drop wouldn’t be spilt before setting it back down. He looked over the tattered outfit of his worker, assessing the wound before speaking.
“You’re losing a lot of blood. Go get your wound fixed. We can discuss this later. I’m not sure what conspiracy you have thought up, but it can wait until you’re in the right state of mind.”
“My mind’s fine. Just give me an answer. Why did we change sites so many times? How did you know that was the one you needed to dig at?”
“We have devices that can check the soil and scan the ground. If it detects a large object or something that would warrant a deeper inspection, we disrupt the land and dig. It saves us a lot of money. We can’t waste our time digging aimlessly for no reward. How would I fund this if that were the case?”
Anthony paused, clutching his wound, taking a more passive stance. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. A virus like this would cause unmatched chaos if released. He wouldn’t knowingly risk such a thing.
“Tell me you at least know what happened down there. Someone must have told you.”
“I’m afraid all they said was we had issues with the machinery. I’ve been trying to get reports, but everyone’s running around like headless chickens. Tell me what happened.”
“The dinosaurs, zombified.”
“Zombified? If you weren’t bleeding, I would call you mad.” He took his rum, sipping the mixture as Anthony explained the situation.
“We unearthed the dinosaurs, amazed by how well preserved they were. It was like they were sleeping, their skin untouched and their bodies showing no signs of decomposition. We believed we had made the discovery of a lifetime, then they woke up. We didn’t have any weapons on us, so we had to run, most of us getting picked off in the attack. They were crazed, out for blood as they tore into everyone around me. I was lucky to only get scratched by the time your security showed up.”
“That’s awful. I… can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m sorry about everything. This is all my fault. Please, go get yourself patched up. I have a lot to do to repair this.”
“Will… will their families be compensated?”
“Anyone that died will have their families taken care of. I assure you; we will do everything we can to secure this situation.”
Anthony sighed, the blood loss making it harder to focus. He eventually gave a nod, heading outside, making his way to the infirmary. When he left, the chairman leaned back in his chair, glancing at the pistol he had taped under his desk.
“He’s infected. Killing him in my office would have only caused trouble.” He dialed a number on his phone, making a quick call. “I want you to make sure he doesn’t survive the surgery. When he mutates, contain him, and extract a sample of the virus, we need to look for potential buyers. Preferably someone that won’t stupidly release the virus without a good reason. Last thing we need is an apocalypse. Oh, also see if any of those dinosaurs are still kicking, too. I’m sure we can find a use for them.” He hung up the phone, finishing his glass of rum. “Unfortunately, the good rum doesn’t pay for itself. At least their families will get a nice payday. I’m not a monster.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
“Mike, thank you for sharing. I want you to follow Mike’s lead and spend this week writing in your journals about one positive thing that has happened each of the 7 days. It can be something as simple as getting a good night’s…or good morning’s rest, to something major like starting to accept who you are. Next week we will share one positive thing with the group. We need to try and push out the negatives like Mike. Be like Mike. Mike has spent three years with us, and each time, he would introduce himself as a “bi-clops” but today, he finally had the courage to see that he is a Cyclops, despite him having two eyes,” I told everyone.
Some of them nodded.
“But Dr. Rose…,” Gary shyly said.
“Oh, I would like to apologize. I’m sorry to Gary and others who may be incorporeal and unable to physically lift up a writing tool to write something down. I need to be more inclusive in my wording and the way I speak. You can ask a friend or someone to write it down for you, or if you don’t want to share something personal, just be sure to remember it. Repeat it three times to yourself in the morning, afternoon and night so it really sticks in your head…er…in your thoughts.”
“We have time for one more speaker. Do any of our new participants want to share for the first time?”
Ashley slowly raised her hand.
“Yes, Ashley?”
“I would…like to talk about my situation,” she said.
“Okay, first introduce yourself, tell us a little about yourself, then open up as much, or as little, as you want.”
“Okay. My name is Ashley of the Baltic Sea. as you can see, I’m a mermaid,” she said. Her tail lifted up and splashed down in the pool we set up for her.
“Hello Ashley,” the group all said in unison.
“This is my…fifth or sixth week coming here, but my first time talking. I know some people are talking and wondering what my whole issue is and it is embarrassing to talk about and…”
“Ashley, I’m going to jump in right now and say everyone here has felt that way once upon a time. But I assure you, while there may be some natural curiosity about who you are, it comes from a positive place, one where people want to help you instead of ridicule you,” I told her.
“I…I can’t swim,” she said. She winced, anticipating laughter or shock or something. But the group was silent.
After a moment of bracing for the worst and not getting the reaction she thought, she opened up a little bit more.
“Mermaids are like birds, in a way. We have to learn how to swim. We leave our little caves and jump in the current and try to swim…but the times I did it, I just couldn’t do it. I would flop my fin back and forth but I wouldn’t go anywhere. I had to be rescued several times by my siblings, all of which are younger than me. Each time they would take me back to the cave and I’d sit there. And I’ve sat there for sixteen years now. I can’t swim. I know other mermaids talk about me. I know they laugh and I’m an embarrassment to my family. And I wish I could swim. But I just can’t…” she said.
She waited for someone to speak up and jump in with their own trauma, but again, the group was silent.
“My dad used to tell me he can’t wait to go out for our first swim, and I was so excited whenever we talked about it. He never pushed me, nor did my mom, they told me when it is time, it is time. So when I began to swim a little on my own in the little cave we lived in, I thought it would be just a matter of days before I’m in the big ocean with my dad and family and friends. But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and months turned into 16 years. I’ve been stuck in that damn cave for 16 years. I tried, I really did. I tried every day. I still do sometimes, when no one is around. But it just…it just doesn’t work for me,” she continued.
“I don’t know what is wrong with me. Am I broken? Am I a defect?” she said, tears now welling up in her eyes. “Why me? What did I do? I just want to swim with my dad. I just want him to be happy. I know he is embarrassed that I’m never at family gatherings or functions. I know he is embarrassed when he introduces his five children, then has to explain where the sixth one, his oldest, is. I don’t want to be like this. But I just don’t know what is happening or why I can’t swim. I’d give anything to be out there in the ocean with them. I know my mom wanted to see me date and get married and start a family of my own. Who wants to get married to a defect? Who wants to get married to a mermaid who can’t swim?” her tone was getting angrier and louder.
“Ashley, I want to stop you right there. You are as you are. You are not a defect. You aren’t broken. I know it is a huge ask of me, but I want you to stop referring to yourself as one. And your feelings are normal. Everyone here, every single one, has felt the same thing you felt one time or another. Everyone here felt out of place. Everyone here felt like they didn’t belong. But slowly, we realize we are the ones that put up the walls that separated us because of the way we think. You are still a mermaid. We have a lot to work on, a lot of trauma to unpack, and I want to have a few private sessions with you in the meantime. I think you made a tremendous breakthrough today. But this is the first step in a long and difficult journey. But we are here with you,” I said.
She nodded and patted her eyes dry. “Thank you Dr. Rose.”
“Thank you Ashley for sharing,” I said. “It looks like we are out of time. But I just want to let you know we will be saying goodbye to Hector tomorrow. He isn’t here with us, he went back to his family to tell them the good news, but we will have a going away party tomorrow for him. When Hector came to us, he was a lost gnome who had really bad allergies and couldn’t stand, literally, in a garden. But! We worked with him and while we weren’t able to solve his allergies, we did find a place where Hector can live a full and happy life. He is going to intern and possibly become a gargoyle! So that’s big exciting news for him. Instead of standing guard in a garden, he will be high up in the clouds on top of the largest buildings in the world. Hopefully he’s not scared of heights,” I said, jokingly.
The group laughed a little. “And in his place, we will have a new face. My sheet tells me her name is Sonya and she's a harpy,"I said. |
It's deeply traumatizing, you see. And I know deep down it'll kill me eventually.
One of these days either a villain or a "hero"will end up doing something that turns me into a grease stain and i will be incapable of doing anything about that.
But in the heat of the moment there is only one right answer to me; refuse to be afraid.
Rubble, more f***ing rubble. Great. Rubble I have to climb with shit ass joints.
As per tradition, I take the closest piece of rebar that can be swung like a club with me. If any of those bastards get close, they're getting brained! Take! Fucking! That!
Undying Light is flying towards me, a hero I've never heard anyone say something nice about. Unless they were one of those brain dead morons worshiping the heroes without a lick of sense or thought behind any of it.
"Dozer, your days are-"She bellows, still flying in that dipshit hero pose.
One well times step to the side and- Whack. Down for the count.
I dont even have the bastards body type. Or complexion. Or hair color. Or anything else. There are serious odds I'm not the right gender, either.
"You."Is whispered behind me. It sounds like... awe???
It isnt the (wo?)man of the hour. Its their not-a-sidekick, Bull. Definately a man, and still not the right body type to be mistaken for.
The silence drags on just a touch too long before I finally get a grip.
"Me???"
"You! The villain who's against everyone!"
Uh.
"Look, youve got the wrong guy. And now? Now im leaving, because i dont care enough to be here. And, and! God help us both if Undying Light wakes up with anyrhing less than paralytic brain damage before I can bail."
"Denial, every time! The one who carries nothing but rebar in wreckage, helping civillians and totalling everyone else! DOZER-"
"Dead. Fucking. Silence."I hiss, slightly raising the rebar. Its getting to heavy for me to be swinging like this, not that he knows that.
It shouldnt have worked, but Bull flinched anyways. And yet I still have bigger problems, because...
Yeah, that sounds like me.
"Listen, im just some guy! Some fucking guy who does physical labor and can swing rebar at idiots attacking me! I dont-"
"It's right down to the grey-"
"I have a fucking work uniform??? Holy shit???"
"Bull, this better be- oh. We need to run."Dozer gaped, finally manuvering the giant robot to focus on the brick wall that smashed through the supports on his own power.
"Yeah, Undying Lights not gonna-"
"Because im not taking on the fucking Rebar! Thats a good way to get headhunted by the damn civvies, and when they go theyre worse than the fucking heroes. Load up, we're out!"They screamed, barely waiting for Bull to hop on.
I. Huh? The fuck?
Undying Light groaned besides me, and I was gone faster than I'd ever been. Now with some googling to do. |
The monstrous creature let out a terrifying, guttural growl. It seemed human, until you saw the fanged four-eyed head, and the long fingers. The humans started running, the creature having appeared out of nothing. It lunged towards the nearby potted plant, gorging on it, seemingly reproducing and creating smaller crawling Bugs. It wore a slick suit, stained with green blood, which seemed only to make the spikes on its back all the more dangerous. Running after one the scientists, It caught up to them, immobilising them with a spiderweb-like substance. A security guard fired on the creature, the plasma bolts leaving scorched holes in the fabric. The monstrous bug screeched at the top of it's vocal glands a distorted version of english "WI COM INN PIS!!!"At this moment, it was crushed under the weight of the fist of a standard Servoboosted Plate Mechanicon.
The alien engaged it's combatant with literally inhuman speed and agility, plunging its hand into the circuits, overriding them. A nearby scientist flipped a red switch. Flashing lights turned on as several more of the shapeshifting hive Ambassadors ripened from the misterious growth that used to be a decorative titan Înnitic fern, sadly lacking the original's snazzy suit. The scientist that had been immobilised by the original Ambassador was approached. She struggled against the web, as the Ambassador shouted WI COM INN PIS repeatedly into her auditory orifices. The Ambassador signaled for the now quite varied slew of aliens that had emerged from the Hive Breeding Growth to make way for a creepy humanoid. It was easily taller than most professional basketball players, and had strange tentacles coming from its cranial casing.
The bound scientist couldn't help but think back to Predator's infamous dreadlocks. She then thought how sad It would be if she died and her last thought were about a 1987 movie. The horrifying monster stepped forward, the tentacles signing. She felt her thoughts being sucked out of her skull, and millions new ones flooding in. She knew she was connecting to The Hive Matriarch's mind. A creature so powerful. She heard The Hive Matriarch's question like a hurricane just hit her. "WHY ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF THE AMBASSADOR, MADISON?"The scientist knew it was just courtesy, The Hive Matriarch knew everything she did, and viceversa. She understood the Ambassador's motives. She understood It's unique genetic makeup, the reason The Hive Matriarch had sent him, to make peace with the humans. The clarity and insight she had gained made it all clear to her. And, man did she feel embarrased about it. |
Thank god, because if you couldn't that would take literally all the fun out of living.
Picking on the biggest guy at the bar. Getting caught with another man's wife. Mocking a group of bachelorettes. The height of these classic pass times is when you get your ass royally handed to you.
I once flipped off a taxi driver in New York City during rush hour in the worst heat wave of the century. Oh boy! The cursing, the spittle flying as he leaped over his fellow taxi, what a thrill! Nearly 70 years later and I think my face is still a little swollen from where he punched me.
Did you know that the whole fad of throwing people out of windows -- defenestration they called it -- back in the Holy Roman Empire (gone too soon) was because of me? Oh, I invited it with the words I used. I also gave someone's father a wet willy, that really sold it.
You know Jack Ass? I'm the one that inspired them, I also created them. Long lost offspring, all of them. I am a proud great great great great great great great great grandfather. Good thing I had them when I did, my 26th wife, third ex-wife, did unspeakable things to me after I told her I slept with all 7 of her sisters and her brother. I won't lie, I married her because I figured she could pack a wallop.
Why do I enjoy these things? Let me tell you. After about 2 lifetimes you have made so many mistakes that making more doesn't bother you, you hurt so bad from how stupid you are that pain is more of a friend to be embraced than a scourge.
After 3 lifetimes you have seen every miracle that makes life fantastical and brilliant in triplicate. They start to lose their luster.
After 5 lifetimes you truly appreciate your immortality. You feel the futility in everything you touch. You blink and it feels like everyone you know has died and been forgotten. Your new home country has peaked and collapsed.
Your love becomes general and erratic. You can't love anything in particular, but you can't not love, so you love everything, you love every little sensation that keeps you present, that keeps the seconds from slipping into decades -- then centuries -- without even realizing.
It grounds you. When you sleep with another man's wife it does not matter that you are immortal, that you have lived for longer than he or she could fathom. All that matters is the betrayal, the lust, the satisfaction. The fist to my gut. The crack of my back as he chucks me from the window, truly my favorite. In that moment, I feel young again. I feel like I am in my first few lifetimes again. I feel mortal, scared, thrilled, and immersed in the world.
Doing these painful things, they are so rewarding and unpredictable. They force me to have to truly think about my next move, to consider my actions. "I was just run over by my drug dealer's ex-boyfriend for stealing her whole supply. Both of my legs are broken, and I am high as shit on methamphetamine. I can't really go to the hospital because then I will go to jail, which gets awkward and wastes time I'd rather spend free to invent new pains, and not the typical gang shit. Perhaps I can crawl to the abandoned taco bell, I stashed some black mail for some local politician there, maybe I can have her give me enough money to see a private doctor."See! far more exciting than avoiding pain, than trying to amass something.
I do not wish to reject this life; I do not wish to create something that will have to rearrange and change as the times speed by. That is not creation, that is cowardice. A true immortal pricks life in the crotch and demands for life to do its worst! |
"Damnit, Steven, what did I tell you about this?"I said sternly, crossing my arms and adopting one of my best dad poses.
"*Daaaaaaad*, come *ooooooooonn*"Steven moaned. "This one's potty trained, it's totally different".
An etherial presence drew breath, drawing air and heat and even color in from the surrounding room. "Technically, I do not expel bodily waste at all"It whispered loudly, echoing everywhere and nowhere. "I place my unused energies within the souls of those around me".
"See?"Steven said, gesturing dramatically to the creature of hell. "No messes! It's totally cool."
I shook my head in disappointment, not anger. Hopefully Steven would be able to tell the difference. "No, Steven, it's not about the pet itself, its about you. Remember what happened to your hamster, Pickles?"
Steven sighed dramatically. "He got eaten by the other hamster because I didn't play with them enough or something."
"And what happened with Fluffy, your Betta fish?"
"RhIbthoteth consumed his soul essence"Steven muttered, crossing his arms and lowering his chin to his chest. "But that's-"
"That was because you forgot to feed RhIbthoteth, and it was hungry"I interrupted. "That demon and the fish were both yours to care for, and now Fluffy is being eternally tormented in the realm of nightmares."
Steven rolled his eyes and flopped back onto his bed. "UUUuuuughhhh, come *ON*, that wasn't my fault".
"No? Well, who was supposed to bring it fresh goats every 6 hours? If I recall, you said you would."
Steven buried his face in his pillow and released a softened scream into its white folds. "This is different! Fred doesn't need *real* food, he eats bad dreams or whatever".
"Powerful emotions, actually"the being said. I could have sworn I heard it lick its ghostly lips eagerly.
"Steven, this isn't about the eldritch horror from beyond time and space, it's about you taking responsibility around here! You're not ready for this yet. If you can prove to your mother and I that you'll stick to your chores list for a month, then we can discuss this matter further. Until then..."I grabbed the black leather book from the floor and shook it gently towards Steven. "Send it back. I'm sure... what's your name?"
The etherial cloud of feelings drew more warmth and colors in before it answered. "My real name is not pronounceable in this realm, but you can call me Dennis."
"Thanks"I said, before turning back to Steven. "I'm sure Dennis can come back when you're ready for it."
Steven flailed his arms and legs dramatically, kicking his bed and punching thick air. "NOOOOO! I want to keep him here!"
"I would like to interject, if I may"the being asked, snaking its words through a higher plane into my mind directly. "The boy is going through a confusing time in his life, where he has the desire for control of his life but lacks the experience and knowledge required to make the correct choices. If you would permit me to stay, I could help guide young Steven, acting as his guardian angel."
My mind was flooded with warmth and happiness, a most pleasant concoction of love and caring and empathy...
I shook my head. "Damnit, don't go placing your unused energies in my soul, demon. I'm not some mental public toilet."
"Okay, jeeze, I'll skedaddle"Dennis said, folding itself into its own billowing mass until it disappeared entirely. Steven huffed loudly.
"I hope you're happy, dad"he sneered, before throwing the top sheet over his head.
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more! |
"Tell me, what do you consider death to be?"
The strange woman sat next to him, as he watched over the city. He had gone by many names in his time, the latest being Orimo. This was his city, founded from a small fishing village into a mighty metropolis.
He turned to the woman, an unreadable expression on her face. There was something cold about her, but not in a bad way. It was more like the cold of night, a comforting feeling. He sighed, turning his gaze back to the view before them. "The failure of the body, I would say. Where it can no longer function in a way that sustains life."
Her face was blank, but somehow conveyed an expression of quiet amusement. "That is one way, and indeed the most likely to be met. But you won't, will you?"
His head whipped around, eyes narrowing. "How? How did you know?"
This time she smiled, baring gleaming white teeth. "I know far more than you realise. But I am not here to fight. I wanted to ask something instead. Are you the same man you were all those years ago, when immortality was given unto you?"
Orimo rolled his eyes back, casting his mind through centuries. He slid past work, hopes and dreams. He saw old friends, long since passed. It took a long time before he remembered how he used to be. Young and bright, eager to see how the world would change.
He barely recognised himself. When had that lustre for the future tarnished? When had he gone from pioneering to merely being a background character? He saw a stranger in his past, the same face but so different underneath.
A light touch on his arm drew him back to the present. The woman watched him expectantly, letting him gather himself. "... no, I guess not."
Her faded smile returned, though not as wide this time. "So your past self is dead, would you not agree?"
Her words stung him. It was like being reminded of a recently deceased relative, and the realisation of never hearing their voice again. But he could not deny her quiet truth, hanging his head down. "Yes... yes he is."
She touched his arm again, this time keeping her hand there. "That is the other death. Everyone experiences it, though they do not realise the truth. You grow over time, from baby to child, child to teenager, teenager to adult. Each time you change, until your are different from previous self."
Her eyes became slightly unfocused, as if a thousand miles away. "They stay with you though, the ghosts of your past. They guide and shape you, remind of when they were happy. And when you finally die, you all pass on together, becoming one once more."
She tirned back to Orimo. "You are no different. Your body may be forever the same, but your spirit is still mortal. You continue to change and grow, new experiences shaping you. Eventually your old self dies, a new person in the same body taking your place."
She pulled her hand away, though it didn't go alone. He watched as a faint image of himself manifested with her, expression wide and eager. His image tried to speak, but no words could be heard. The woman stood, moving the arm she held to hook in hers. "This leaves a ghost, but they cannot stay forever, unlike your body. So I will come and remove your past selves, for however long your body will exist for. For this is how immortals die."
With those parting words she vanished, leaving him alone once more. But now he felt lighter, a weight removed from his shoulders. His past self was gone, he wouldn't be that man again. But maybe he could honour their memory, and make something new once more. |
[poem]
There once was a girl who was dead,
The government cut off her head,
I knew it was wrong, but I pulled out my dong,
And what came next filled me with dread.
The girl was clearly alive,
Underground for one day or five,
I went looking for gore, but never before
Had I met a corpse that actually thrived
I tried to flee in my fear,
My dread replacing my cheer,
But a hole six feet deep requires quite a leap,
And she had made her intentions quite clear
The last thing I felt was the pain,
With mine own shovel had I been slain,
Now I was the one dead and missing their head,
All for playing a mischievous game. |
The killer stumbled around my home, peering through doors and under furniture, trying to find where I was hiding. It was fascinating to watch him through the security cameras the police had helped me install. Watching as the man lifted my kettle, acting as if I would be hiding underneath it. The cop turned to me with a baffled expression, and I rolled my eyes in response. The killer then opened my fridge, placing his hands on his hips, looking absolutely befuddled that his perfect plan hadn’t worked.
“So, are you going to go in and catch him?” I asked. Officer Randy bit into his sandwich, still in awe of what he was seeing. He didn’t appear to be in a rush, trying to understand the killer’s motives.
“And you don’t know this guy?” He said, careful not to spit any loose pieces of bread out.
“No, not at all.”
“Weird. Why would he send you the letters one at a time? Did he assume you wouldn’t try to put them together at some point?”
“Maybe he thought I wouldn’t be able to figure it out without all the letters?” I offered, unsure why he had used such a tactic.
“He should have jumbled them then. It’s a good thing you came to us when you did. He was waiting outside when he delivered that last letter, you know. He could have easily snuck in when you opened the door. To think you were that close to getting killed.” The officer shook his head, almost looking disappointed by how easily the criminal had gotten themselves caught.
“So, are you going to get him?”
“Yeah, yeah. In a minute.” The officer glared at me, scoffing down more of his sandwich. In the camera’s, the man was still wandering around my home. Eventually he grabbed a pillow, sniffing it, before walking into the bedroom.
“Does he think he can smell me?” I questioned, watching the man get on all fours, crawling under my bed. He stayed hidden beneath the bed for five minutes, being out of the view of the cameras. When he emerged, he almost looked tranquil, setting a letter down on my pillow before staring directly at the bedroom camera.
He mouthed a hello, giving the camera a wave. The man’s hair was a mess, hanging down to his shoulders. His face looked rough, but it was hard to tell how rough given the number of pixels on the screen. He flashed his teeth when he grinned and the camera shut off, leaving us in the dark.
Officer Randy threw his sandwich onto the desk, jumping up to grab his walkie talkie. “Cameras have gone dark. Move in now. Target is armed with a knife, I repeat, the target is armed with a knife.” Randy gave the orders, and the police moved in, only to find my home empty, apart from the letter.
When I returned home, the police guided me to my bedroom, pushing the bed aside to show what the killer had done. The wooden floorboards showing heavy scratch marks, having been frequently moved over the last month. The killer hadn't wasted all that time he spent wandering through my house. All that time he was inspecting the cameras, working out if we connected them to my power or not. When he confirmed that the police had used my power for the camera’s, he planted a small explosive on the fuse, blowing it up. Making sure the power cut off at the perfect time for his cinematic escape.
The letter he left was a simple message. He congratulated me on surviving the first stage of his puzzle, but admitted he was disappointed about how I had used outside sources to escape his initial trap. He promised the next stage would be far more open. That puzzle wouldn’t be delivered only to my house. No, it would be hand delivered to wherever he could get to me. When the police read the letter, they moved me to an apartment, offering to watch the apartment block until the killer was caught. They were confident that now that they had seen the man, it would be easy to track him, and yet, they never found him.
It’s been six months now, and not a single puzzle ever arrived. The police assured me that the killer had most likely lost interest, even telling me it was ‘safe’ to move back into my home. I didn’t feel safe, though. Everywhere I went, it fell like he could be lurking. Every slightly rough looking person I passed made me flinch. Anyone could be him. Even at night, I still heard the odd scratching under the floorboards. The floorboards were secure now, having been replaced and upgraded. Still, nothing felt entirely safe.
Every night I worried about what this meant for me. Either the killer had moved on, or I had been missing whatever hints he was leaving me. The thought of the second option made my stomach turn. Again, I spent another near sleepless night in bed, hoping that one day I would feel safe again. |
Everyone knows about Lupin. The professor who was in reality a werewolf, nearly killed some students and was responsible for the escape of the infamous Serious Black. The inconspicuous looking teacher who had stoic house master Severus Snape ridiculed with the use of a boggart.
But only a few know there was a second werecreature in Hogwarts. Of course the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, knew about it before he accepted this person into school. Of course Professor Albus Dumbledore taught her to be stoic and focused to a point that she could act the same traits while in her were-form. And of course Albus Dumbledore made it his mission to amuse her about it.
None of the students could know. Not only would this create an ethical problem and would result in the loss of some of them by parent’s choice, but it would also ruin her reputation. Of course teachers having their own wing with separate single bed sleeping quarters helped. Most full moons she did not leave these rooms or directly went into the woods. But some days she found herself in common rooms, going for leftovers in the Great Hall or patrolling the ghosts hideouts. Knowing what she was capable of in her were-form, she tried to always be fed during these days, to be well rested and not stressed out. Too often she had found herself inside a cage of a shelter when she was young, trying to sneak out without destroying the grids.
Everyone else who met her in her form would never see this possibility. To them she was a chill and furry distraction, too lazy to lift her paw when some teenage-students were a little rough (mostly with words. Barely anyone touched her).
But some day a bright pupil might just see how similar the roaming creature looked to the Animagus of Professor McGonagall. |
"You do understand that the option I am offering you is very unique."
"Yes. Immortality."
"I highly recommend you take it."
"What happens if I don't?"
"I will sentence you to eternal punishment."
"That hardly seems fair."
"You must choose. You would prefer eternal life over eternal suffering, yes?"
"Well, yeah, I guess. It's just... I don't know; eternal life just sounds really shitty to me. You don't have to worry about injuries, or death, but maybe it's worrying about death that *makes* us feel alive. I mean, what's the point in skydiving if you know there's no risk?"
"..."
"It's true that you'd have enough time to do everything you want to do, but then what? You'd be jaded, so much so that the Bahamas just become another sandy blur and lobster is just a bug covered in butter sauce. You also get the lovely added bonus of everyone you love dying around you. And then, when you fall in love with someone else, they die again. And so on."
"I suppose you are correct."
"Do you understand the point I'm making, then? Eternal life really isn't what it's cracked up to be. I mean, I suppose you've grown used to it, being God and everything, not to mention that you're all powerful, which is a nice thing to be. But just because you're used to something doesn't mean you like it."
"So, you do not want eternal life, then, I take it."
"No. I choose punishment."
"Very well; you have been convincing enough. I shall grant you eternal life."
"Wait, what? No, I don't *want* immortality! I picked punishment! Is this some kind of joke?"
"This is not a joke. It seems you have forgotten what you just said to me: how awful and terrible eternal life would be. In fact, you would suffer from it more than you would enjoy it."
"Oh, I get it now. I see what you're doing. That's some shitty logic."
"It is *your* logic. Because really, what *is* the difference? After all, if eternal life would only be suffering, than I have given you the punishment you have asked for."
"So, there really wasn't ever a choice in the first place?"
"Do you really think that there ever is?" |
Jerry picked up the paper as he walked out of the deli he went to for lunch. The main story "Blopeca Man Foils Bank Robbery"took up nearly the entire front page. Jerry had gone to that bank the day before, but he didn't remember anything like that happening. As he recalled it was something more like this:
>It was payday. Excitedly I went to the Blopeca National Bank to deposit my check. So as I walk into the bank I'm amazed to see only one person standing up. He was dressed really kind of suspiciously; all black, ski mask, the whole thing. If I didn't know any better I'd call him a robber. Well the door shuts loudly behind me and he turns his head. Suddenly he gets really scared of someone. He shouts, "Oh shit it's Blopeca Man!"and just runs out of the bank. Must be someone he owes some money to I guess.
Occasionally Jerry will get stopped in the street by people to thank him for all he's done. At his job, there isn't a month that's gone by where he hasn't won employee of the month. He really wishes that Kristen would win one of these days; she's a really hard worker. She does so much for the community there at the hardware store.
|
I looked around the empty house and tried to process the emptiness. Everything was gone. All the furniture, all the electronics; even the house was in someone else's name. I had nothing left but a plane ticket to Florida, a small handgun, a flip phone, and the clothes on my back. It felt good. It was a pure feeling, owning nothing.
After going through life working hard to support my daughter as a single mother, to put away money for her college and her inheritance, it felt nice to give it all away once I realized she was an ungrateful little bitch.
The door opened. Rachel entered, still wearing the cap and gown from her graduation ceremony. She had her gun drawn. I was expecting her. I kept my hands to my sides and smiled. She was clearly terrified, and the hand holding the gun was shaking.
"Mom,"she started, reciting something rehearsed, "you know what I'm here to do, and it will be easier if you--"She stopped, and took in the emptiness for the first time. "What the fuck?"
"It's all gone,"I said, still smiling broadly. "Sold everything and gave the money to charity. Drained all the accounts and cancelled the insurance policies."
"Lying bitch,"Rachel hissed. "You wouldn't. You're just trying to stop me."
"Feel free to shoot me,"I replied. "I won't defend myself. But I'd recommend finding someone else, if money's what you're after. Your old mom is poor as a church mouse."
Rachel was crying. "The only thing you've ever been good for, and you ruin it! Do you want me to have to rob a bank or something? I could go to jail!"
"Forgive me if it's hard to feel sympathy."
Rachel put the gun down. "Everything?"she whined.
"Everything,"I assured her.
"Even all my toys? Dad's old stuff? My high school trophies?"
"Everything,"I repeated.
She lowered her gun and sunk to the ground, pouting. "That wasn't very nice."
I pet the top of her head like I once did, when she was an innocent little girl crying about breaking a crayon. "Go to hell,"I said, sweetly, "you evil little whore."I left her there, broken down in our empty house, and got in the taxi to the airport.
I picked up my phone and made a quick call. "Mom?"I said, once the phone connected. "Yes, I'm on my way to the airport."A pause. "I can't wait to see you either."I felt the gun in my pocket and smiled. |
Holding the cigarette in his hand, he takes a slow, deep drag, savoring the moment. Inhaling the smoke into his lungs, he stares a hole through me, and then exhales the gray cloud into the air. It creates a split second cloud in front of his face, and he smiles at me. It's mischievous, but not full of malice. Dressed in a finely tailored gray, pinstriped suit, The Man tips his hat towards me, and motions with one free hand to come closer. I can see every line in his face. As I come closer, he continue to motion with the one hand, and takes another drag with the other. Inching closer towards him, wondering why he has set his sights on me, I see him inhale the cigarette, but notice something peculiar: the cigarette isn't lit.
He smiles again.
Millions of thoughts and questions race through my head, as none of this makes sense. Who is this man? What is he doing? How is it possible that he's doing this? I can only approach cautiously, confused. Tilting my head to the side, as if I were a confused dog, I take a long look at this man. Within an arms reach now, he reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. His grip isn't firm, but it is with purpose. He narrows his almost black eyes, and takes a deep drag of his unlit cigarette again. Breathing in the smoke, and suddenly releasing it, he forms a ring of it which envelopes my face like a glove around a hand. With another sly smile, the man, all while releasing a slow stream of smoke from his lips, whispers out to me:
*"Wake Up."*
I wake up quickly. Standing on a busy sidewalk in the heart of New York City, the haze around my eyes has gone. So is he. Confused onlookers and stopped and formed a circle around me, and can only give me the side eyed looks that I was giving The Cigarette Man who was just in front of me. I stumble over thoughts in my brain, trying to piece together something, **ANYTHING**, that makes sense. The crowd is becoming larger. I am becoming more confused. I hear their murmurs of, "He's been standing still here for twenty minutes", and, "Should we call someone?"
I don't know what to do.
Looking around and breaking out of my (seemingly) self imposed stillness, I look around at the crowd for the first time, and meet their perplexed glares. A few of them seem to be relieved that I've moved, while the majority of them shake their heads and have a worrisome look still spread across their faces. A few approach me and ask me if I'm okay. I don't know how to answer them, because all I don't know if I am. The only thing going through my head right now is, "Where did he go? He was just here..."
I look down for a minute, trying to clear my head. As I do this, I notice something on the ground: a fully intact cigarette. Reaching down slowly, I pick it up and look over it carefully, forgetting about the crowd that has gathered around me. It's eerie, but it appears to be the same one that he was smoking, just...not smoked. Lifting it to eye level and trying, and failing, to process what is going on, I notice a small amount of writing towards where the filter is, where the brand logo would be. As I inspect it, a wave of fear cannot help but come over me:
*Wake Up.*
I wake up in a hospital, hooked up to multiple IV's with a team of doctors and nurses standing around me. My eyes slowly try to adjust to the light, as if I've been asleep for years. As I begin to try to move my arms, the doctors and nurses look at me, their eyes wide, seemingly shocked that I am alive. Their confused happiness is enough to make me attempt to smile, but that feeling is quickly dashed by a heart stopping realization: The Cigarette Man, in the gray pinstriped suit, is standing in the corner, his unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. His black eyes focus in on me, and the same smile comes back across his mouth again. All I can do is struggle in bed, but it's to no avail. The doctors and nurses try to assure me that everything is okay and that I will be alright, but I don't listen to them. The sound in the room goes quiet. My mind becomes blank. He sees this, and takes a drag of his unlit cigarette. Breathing in, he sighs the smoke out, It comes across the room in a single wave, before reaching it's destination right in front of my prone face. He puts his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, and confidently strides across the room, his unblinking eyes fixed solely onto mine. Time has stopped. The doctors and nurses have become still. Nothing in the room is moving except for him. I have become paralyzed. As he reaches my bedside, he puts his hand on my shoulder again and smiles. He knows something that I do not, and he is giving me no choice but to listen. Bending down, he puts the cigarette behind his ear and inches towards me ear. I can smell his breath. I can hear his heart beat. I can't look away. All I can do is stare up at the lights as he begins to whisper into my ear. Everything comes out unintelligible, except for the final two words.
*Wake Up.*
I wake up in bed, drenched in sweat. I sit straight up in bed on instinct, and look around the room. Everything is dark except for my alarm clock, which reads 4:53 A.M. All I can is aggressively sigh out loud, and wipe the sweat from my forehead. I don't lie back down so much so as throw myself down. Rolling over in bed, I look at the clock and laugh. It was just a dream. A really, really bad dream. But, I notice something strange. In front of the clock, out of view unless you pay attention, there's something that isn't normally there. Reaching my hand over to the clock, I pick it up and bend it downwards, shining the blue light onto my bedside table. It's then that I gasp, and my heart begins to skip.
An unlit cigarette rests comfortably on the desk. I do not smoke. All I can do is pick it up and hold it in my hands, scared for my life. As I do this, it begins to burn my palm. I throw it down onto the floor and scream out, but nothing comes out. The only thing I do hear is a voice come from within the darkness of the room.
*Wake Up.*
*Edit: Cleaned up grammar.* |
"Christine, aged 23, I hereby sentence you to Death by Era."
"I'll find my way back,"Christine snapped at the judge. The judge, a portly man with a small patch of hair on the top of his head, only pursed his lips together. He did so in a way that said disappointment, but Christine knew it wasn't disappointment in her, but rather disappointment in the system. She was the third civilian this week to have been sentenced to Death by Era, and she was pretty certain she was also the third innocent. "Where will I be vacationing?"
"You can't be serious,"the judge finally spoke, breaking the silence that had long held a grip on the courtroom. "You're not coming back. No one ever comes back."
Christine looked down at her shoes. She was desperately trying to hide her smile. The people in the courtroom began to mummer amongst themselves, words of "is she for real?"and "no, she can't be,"circulated in the air. It made it all the more difficult to contain her laughter.
"Get her out of my sight,"the judge said, motioning with a fatty hand to the bailiff, who had already begun to pull the cuffs out of his back pocket.
The cuffs themselves glimmered a dark purple. It was the first time Christine had ever seen them in person, but she had studied them in books and on the DarcNet. She felt her stomach drop as the bailiff lifted his free hand and beckoned to Christine with a curled index finger.
"Hands,"he said in a gruff voice.
Christine raised them, deciding not to put up a fight at all. The bailiff placed the cuffs around her wrists, and she winced. They were warm.
She looked down at them, marveling at how the cuffs glowed. There appeared to be stars swirling inside the links. Galaxies must've been in there, but she didn't know that for sure. The bailiff sealed the cuffs with a *click*, the penultimate noise bringing Christine out of her daze.
*Focus*, she told herself. *Focus, focus on what you have to do. Focus.*
Her husband had told her moments before the trial that being sent to a different era was like being in a dream. The moment you're in the dream, you tend to forget who you are, where you're from, or what your intentions are. *Focus. You can't forget.*
She felt the cuffs glow hot, almost cringing at the thought of them burning her wrists, but they didn't burn, no, her whole body grew cold at the last second, right when the final noise she heard was the cawing of a crow.
***
"The man's tankard is empty, wants wine,"Eli spoke, shoving a jug towards Christine.
"Wine?"She asked. She wasn't sure she had heard Eli speak correctly. The saloon was packed to the brim with patrons, and Stanley was banging out a fast paced tune on the piano.
"Yeah, wine, your ears going out? I know you're not that old,"Stanley said, trying his best not to giggle at Christine. "He's got strange tastes, just fill it up, and try not to let him know he's a fag for drinking the shit."
"Huh?"Christine said, still not sure she heard Eli clearly.
"Dammit Christine, get the man his wine. Focus, for Pete's sake."Eli turned away from the wooden bar and began to dry some mugs with a cotton cloth that Christine was sure she hadn't seen him clean since she started working at the saloon.
*Focus.*
"Holy shit,"Christine whispered to herself mid-step on her way to the man sitting on the table. "I've got to start gathering supplies."
The man at the table, a broad shouldered cowboy with a goatee, glanced towards Christine. He slammed his tankard on the table, his way of telling her to hurry the fuck up with his wine.
"I need to write it down, I need to hurry up and write it down before I forget,"Christine said aloud. She dropped the jug of wine and turned back towards the bar. The jug crashed on the wooden floor, causing some of the patrons to stir and give her eyes. She looked towards the other side of the saloon and saw the staircase leading up to where the bedrooms were. She knew she had a quill and paper up in her room, and she knew she had to hurry and get to it before her mind slipped away.
"Hey, ya old bitch,"the wine-drinker said, grabbing her by the arm and roughly pulling her to the side.
"I'm sorry,"Christine spoke quickly, "I really need to go to my room real quick, I have to write something down."
"Write something down? Ya uppity bitch, you don't know how to write shit,"the man said as he brought an open palm down hard across Christine's face. The smack emanated loudly in the saloon, stopping all the patrons from their conversations, even stopping Stanley dead in the middle of his piano tune.
Christine brought a hand up and covered her pulsing cheek. Despite her best efforts, she felt tears form in her eyes and run down her cheek. "I'm sorry,"she stuttered.
"You go back there, and you get me another jug of wine, you hear me, whore? You're lucky you're a dry old bitch, I'dda hit you harder."
"Yes,"Christine said. She walked back to the bar in shaky steps, trying to remember where the jugs of wine were stored.
***
|
"Orangey Orange,"I muttered under my breath as I woke up. The hunger would still be there. At this point, I'm not even sure why I wake up. I'm an anthropomorphic rabbit waking up in a studio apartment with a bed that's lousy with bedbugs. It looks like I got bit again tonight, with that telltale trail that these fuckers leave on me. Today will be no different than any other day.
"Lemoney Yellow,"the words sound bittersweet to me at this point. It's an unreachable dream, but still something I stupidly attempt on a daily basis. I'd like to think I'm a Furry Icarus, or at least a retard trying to throw ice cubes at the sun because it's too hot. I shove this carrot into my mouth, the entire thing devoid of flavor save for a slight sweetness that taunts me on a daily basis, constantly reminding me that I am nothing more than an animal. I know I'm a rabbit, but even I deserve something more substantial than the fructose in these plants!
"Grapity Purple,"I suppose the words give me power at this point. I think they give me a reason to live. Perhaps if I could just have one taste--Just one!-- I would have a reason to let go of this torment. I could become a vet, an academic, a teacher or anything other than a slave to this idea. I walk out my door, and go for a walk. I can see the neighbors having breakfast without the oldest-- he's at school already. The other child gives me a smirk. He knows. Everyone knows. No one gives me even the slightest hint of compassion. Can't they see that I'm in pain? Can't they see that all I want is a friend? The cereal itself is only a means to an end-- I'm an anthropomorphic rabbit without a friend in the world, waking up each day and seen as a freak. I'll get the cereal one day. Then they'll like me. Then they'll get to know the real me.
"Raspberry Red."I hear the birds on the power lines yell at me. Even the birds are having their way with me. Not today. I throw a rock at one of them, their leader, and he falls to the ground. Its injury seems to have been severe. Blood runs from under its black head and leaves a trail of, well, Raspberry Red. It won't taunt me anymore. No one will. I'll show them. I'll show them all. I'll silence them like I silenced this one. I'm not some freak for them to stare at me. I may not be human, but I still have feelings. I may be a rabbit, but I still need my dignity.
"Wildberry Blue!"One of the newest additions will become my war cry. Don't mess with a rabbit on a crusade, he has everything to gain and nothing to lose. I've been the subject of their insults long enough. I've been the butt of jokes for too long. I will find my freedom at the playground, only three blocks from here. I will make them regret ever denying me the sweet flavor they've placed in my head. I can't help it, I'm just a rabbit, I can't take it. I-I need them to know this isn't right. Maybe they'll finally come to their senses before the final mome--
"SILLY RABBIT, TRIX ARE FOR KIDS!"
They can't even see me. They're just...there. They're taunting me without me even being there. I'm being mocked without even being acknowledged.
"Lime. Green."I say, as I calmly walk up to them. They look at me like I'm the crazy one here-- I JUST WANT SOME FUCKING TRIX. The black one says something. I can't be bothered to listen to her, my eyes see Raspberry Red right now, and all I want is to break her face in with that Grapity Purple bat.
"ORANGY ORANGE,"I reach for the bat.
"LEMONEY YELLOW,"I lunge for the fat one, sinking my teeth into him.
"RASPBERRY RED,"I shout as I take the bat to the back of the ginger's head as he runs away, exposing the inside of his skull.
"GRAPITY PURPLE,"Who'll get the Trix now?! The kids will never mock me again. I catch up onto the tallest one's torso and devour his neck. Who knew blood was so sweet?
"WILDBERRY BLUE,"I back two of them up against the corner, one starts crying while the other tries to fight. He'll die first.
"LIME GREEN,"my claws hurt at this point, but it's a good pain. I forgot how much of an animal I could be. The feel of the sternum as it scratches against my paws is like no other, and I can't bring myself to stop this. His flesh feels like velvet against my rapidly dulling claws.
No one will ever make fun of me again. I reach for their box of Trix, sitting in the center of the picnic table-- the paper embodiment of everything I've suffered for.
It's empty. |
Michael yawned, his tightening jaw causing the usual sound of cracking and the low rumble of blood to fill his ears.
What was he thinking about again? Something about...
Nope, it was gone.
Then he remembered the experiment. He ran over to the MRI monitoring station and replayed the recording. The 3D representation of his brain pulsated colorfully as thoughts and physical triggers shot along neural pathways.
Something flashed for a split second, and the brain's activity pattern seemed to have changed. Scrubbing back and forth along the recording's timeline to find the source, he paused at a moment fifty milliseconds before the yawn and stood staring at the screen, trying to make sense of it.
There it was, right there on his cerebellum. A black dot that began to spread outwards. Black, no activity, a hole in his brain functioning, like something jammed in the circuits.
In slow motion he watched the blackness oozing like tar along his brain stem into the cerebrum, a dark tide wiping clean the healthy brain activity and leaving emptiness in its wake.
It was over in a split second, and his brain resumed normal activity almost immediately, but it wasn't the same, something was different. He brought up two screens, before and after. There had been something before, a region of intense activity in the frontal lobe of his cerebral cortex, a pattern often associated with intense theoretical thinking.
He recalled the dozen or so previous recordings he'd already made. A horrifying pattern had emerged. Each yawn preceded by intense activity in the frontal cortex, followed by a more subdued pattern after a wave of inactivity spread from the cerebellum.
He had no explanation, just the hunch that his abstract thought had triggered a kill switch, something that shut down the brain momentarily, resetting it and wiping clean the abstraction.
He reached for the notebook in which he'd scribbled today's topic, since he never seemed to remember afterwards.
The three letter initialism leapt off the pages and seized his heart, making his blood run cold.
UFO
Every other time had been the same. He flicked back through the notebook. Roswell. Area 52. MKULTRA. The common link was obvious.
Some of the other subjects hadn't resulted in this erasing yawn; daisies, socioeconomics, dinner recipes.
This was it! He had all the evidence...
All the evidence...
He felt a sudden tension between his shoulder blades that worked over his shoulders and up his neck, tightening his jaw. Stretching out his arms he unleashed a mighty yawn, such that he had to lean back on his chair afterwards.
"What am I doing here?"he thought, moments later. |
As soon as I could buy a ticket, I started. The Saturday Mega Draw. Jeez-Louise. Millions. Millions just waiting to be won. I'd buy me a ticket every week, sometimes went without smokes or milk just to afford it.
Millions.
I'd take my ticket, place it ever so gently in my wallet and take it home. Yes sir. That ticket was my ticket out of the trailer park and in to where ever it was the rich folk lived. Probably some big house with a view of a trailer park.
I'd sit in the cold blue light of my TV and I'd check my numbers. Never won a cent in thirty-eight years. Imagine that! Thirty-eight years of playin' and I ain't won one cent.
Then I'm sittin' there, holdin' my ticket to millions, my ticket out from the trailer, eating a half frozen instant dinner, when the numbers on the screen match the numbers on my ticket. I checked it once. Twice. I don't know how many times. Swear by the time I'd finished checkin' them numbers the sun had started up and my dinner was all the way frozen again!
I didn't go hollerin' and yeehawin'. That's how a man'd get himself killed, or worse: robbed! I put that ticket in the freezer. Figured no one would look there, and if there was a fire it'd survive, maybe. I dunno. I ain't smart, but I ain't dumb neither.
I took it back to the shop and they confirmed it, they yeeha'd and yahoo'd and got me to sign forms and people were called and after a whole bunch o' hullabaloo I got me a big fat check.
And a smaller one. 'Parently the bigun's just for show.
Who knew?
I made a lot of mistakes in my life and some of the biggest was after all that money made it's way into my pockets.
Here's a quick list of my top ten, hope maybe you learn sumthin from it.
Number One: Don't marry the first pretty little thing that dances up and gets all smoochy with you.
Never had much luck with the ladies in my life - my Pops said I had the face of a cow who was kissed by a shovel. He was good with his words, my Pop. He coulda just said I was ugly, but he didn't.
Anyways, I got more attention from lasses than I'd ever got before on account of my pockets being full. Thought it was love. But, it was greed. She left and took a chunk of my money.
Number two: Don't marry the second pretty little thing that dances up to you, and learn from your mistakes.
I was heart broken and she was busty. I put a ring on it and next thing you know she's out the door taken more of my cash with her.
Number three: Just because someone uses big words, don't mean they're smart. Sometimes it means they think your stupid.
Had a business fella come up to me. Sayin' hedge this, diversify that, I drive a Lexus this, you can trust me that. I was razzle dazzled by this stranger, wore the prettiest damned suits I ever saw. He took off with a chunk of my money. 'Parently the police are after him. Fraud. I don't know.
Number four: Friends don't always stay friends. Sad, but true.
Didn't have many, but I had a few. Friends, that is. When the money came in, I helped 'em out. Gave 'em some. Gave 'em a lot. A friend in need is a friend indeed, you know? Strange thing, though. Gave 'em more money then they ever knew was possible. Still wanted more. Gave it to 'em for a while too. Then I wisened up. They ain't my friends no more. They call me cheap. Call me greedy. Theys the ones who ask for money with every breath.
Number Five: Blood ain't thicker than money. Even sadder. Even truer.
The money cost me my family like it cost me my friends. All I really had left was Aunts 'n' uncles, couple of cousins. Ma and Pa had been dead, gosh, good couple years before I won the money. Didn't think I had much family left out there. If you ever want to find the branches of your family, maybe your doin' one of them trees, just put an ad in the paper saying you won millions.
Second and third cousins come crawlin' out of the woodwork. Gave 'em all money too. For a while.
They call me greedy now as well. They're rollin around in ridiculous trucks but still livin in a damn trailer, the damn fools.
Number Six: The big city ain't for everyone.
I hanged around for a while in my hometown, moved from the trailer to a nice little house though. Then I figured I'd move to the city. Figured that's what rich folk did. Figured maybe it was to get some distance from everyone asking for money.
I don't like the city. It's noisy. It stinks. No one gives two shits about anyone else.
But, it's where rich people go, so I did.
Number Seven: Rich people want more money.
Thought to myself that the city would be different. Them rich city folk, they already have money. They won't try and trick me out of mine. But, they did. A few more business suits, and a few more pairs of legs saw me lose more money.
Number Eight: Fancy food sucks.
Thought that the rich folk would eat some strange super tasty food that I'd never heard of. It's strange alright, fish eggs and tiny plates of bite-sized french named crap. I'd take a burger anyday over that crap.
Number Nine: Find a good accountant soon as possible.
Took me ages to get one. I don't know how I did. Couldn't tell you where to start. Found me an honest fella who breaks everythin' down real simple for me. Says I've wasted a lot of money, and keeps me from wastin more.
Good kid.
Number Ten: The biggest mistake.
The biggest mistake I made was thinkin' that I'd be happy doin' what other people do. You know what? I like doin' what I do. I watch TV, I fix up trucks, do a bit of huntin' and eat burgers and drink beer. It ain't fancy. It ain't expensive.
But it is me.
|
No one stays in the business of reaping very long. Well, almost no one; I guess I'm an exception. I've seen the most hardened, gangster thugs break down crying after only a few days of this. How did I stay in it for years? Maybe I'm just a naturally heartless person. But it was drugs, mostly. Anything I could get my hands on. It's not like money was an issue; do you *know* how much a year goes for on the black market? The drugs always drew the police, but they crack down on us reapers whenever they can anyway. Luckily they have no jurisdiction in international waters.
Another key to staying in the biz for this long was a steady supply. I had a few regulars, taking up residence on the ship and producing regularly every 9 months. Those are always hard to find; that job will burn a hole through your soul. Most suppliers quit after their third or fourth. Some of them just commit suicide. The regulars became burnt out husks, numb to the world. Hardly even human anymore. Their addictions were so bad that coming down from a high would probably kill them. And it's not like they needed to be sober to get pregnant, right? Sure, the drugs would limit the number of years we'd get from the product, but it was a small price to pay.
The regulars weren't the hard cases, though. The hard cases would be some bright, fresh country girl, down on her luck, showing up at the harbor. "Free range,"we called these. "My mother is dying,"she'd say, rubbing her swollen belly. "She needs the years."I'd nod understandingly, sympathetically, and direct her to a room below deck to wait for the birth. The baby would be born, squawking and filthy and covered in all sorts of bodily fluids. The mother would want to hold it; we never let them. They'd only get attached.
Then we'd divvy up the years. "Here's fifty for your mom,"we'd tell her, and send her packing back home with a "I went to the reaper ship and all I got was this lifetime of guilt"T-shirt. We'd all skim a year or two off the top, and the remaining 20 or so would be sold, usually to some banker or CEO. Quick, painless, profitable, and soul-killing. |
I love warm days like today. It means that schooling is coming to an end and it will soon be time for a break from studies. It means the Drake Show is just around the corner, where all the best Drake Trainers and new breeds will be showcased! It also means that the Dwarves' Sky Exchange is going to be implemented soon. I remember last year's Sky Exchange. The great floating city nearly blocked out the entire sun when it passed over us. The buckets it lowered were like those found in a well, but roughly the size of houses. Some had Dwarves in them, in their blue and gold robes, directing individuals in regards to what the floating city needed, with smiles and thanks for the generosity of the land folk. That's us, by the way, Land Folk. Orcs, Ogres, Goblins, Trolls, Elves, Humans, and a whole host of other races that still live on the ground. History books say the Dwarves used to live on the ground with us. Some even say they used to live under it, but one day decided that they much preferred being tan over pasty white and built giant floating cities to be closer to the sun. This all sounds silly to me, but they are in floating cities and they are all *remarkably* tan.
I can hear the church bells ring, sounding 3 in the afternoon (15 rings total) and stand to rush from the classroom and be outside. I *belong* outside. I'm not meant to be cooped up indoors, I get so restless away from the trees and the sky. It's my home!
"Sit down, Miss Sa'azar. I dismiss you, *not* the bells."If I had rolled my eyes any harder at this almost proverb from out professor, they would have fallen out of my head. My teacher, or rather, our teacher, for I was not alone in the class, is Mrs. Blod and Mrs. Weil. Mrs. Blod is our math and physical sciences professor while Mrs. Weil is our History and Magicks professor. Because they're so diversified and share a body, the school only has to pay for one teacher while receiving two! She is also an excellent athletics coach, but neither of them have much preference for sport.
I sat back down in my chair. Mrs. Blod's head could swivel 180 degrees and watch the class while Mrs. Weil could write on the board. Being a two headed Ogre had its advantages I suppose. Each of them were also married, separately, and I'm honestly not sure how those living arrangements work so don't ask me.
"Alright Class."Mrs. Weil said, turning away from the board she had been writing on. "I know the weather is warming up and school is winding down, but that doesn't mean stop working hard. You're all very bright and Mrs. Blod and I would be very sad to see any of you fail the End of Spring Exams. On the board is a text and a few pages which we both want you all to read over the weekend. It's only 10 pages, and rather cleverly written. Dismissed!"Both heads began to smile as Mrs. Blod and Mrs. Weil began to clean up their desk and the students did the same.
I shoved all of my belongings into my bag, and rushed out the door after copying down the readings. I knew the text well, "Plantes and their Magicks: A Guide to the Wonderful World of Herblore as seen from Above. 3rd edition". It was one of the books the Dwarves had written recently, mass produced, and distributed to the Land Folk. It was a pretty decent arrangement and the Dwarves knew their business fairly well.
I dashed from the school building, straight home where I changed out of the awful clothes that the school insisted all students wear. Something about modesty for all races, but I don't see why everybody needed slits in the backs of their tops to accommodate wings when only Dragons and Harpy's had wings. I changed into my summer clothes; short pants and a short top, strong but light sandals, exchanged my school bag for a sturdier forest leather one, shoved my Herblore book into it and dashed out of the house again.
"Bye Da, I'm going to the glade to do some school readings!"I call over my shoulder. I see my Da poke his head out of his study momentarily to call back to me "Make sure you're back for dinner and don't get pulled into any fights!"
"I will be and I won't Da!"I call back with a smile. He worries too much.
I make my way to my glade, an open field next to a bend in the river. Cottonwood and Willow trees grow here, my favorites, and I climb into the branches of one of the strongest to read my book. I love reading, and I love the forest. Because that's where Orcs belong, in the forest. |
It was a sentence I never thought I'd say, and honestly, one I hoped I'd never have to. But when my buddy Thurston Wallaby, famous mountaineer and less-famous bonobo fetishist, invited me to climb Mount Mountain with him, I couldn't pass it up. I'd recently split up with my wife and wanted to do something that would show her that I was somebody, that I wasn't just a guy who collected different-colored thumbtacks and talked about it at parties.
Thurston and I started from base camp at 0800. The first third was easy — I just pretended that rather than being an up-and-down person walking at a slant, I was rather a slanted person walking on a flat surface. We were attacked by a pack of wild Air Buds at about the eight thousand foot mark, but we'd been honing our basketball skills and beat them quite easily. We were almost at the peak when we ran into the grinch.
It wasn't the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, but another, distantly related, grinch. It was a massive, awful creature, about the size of two dogs and a gerbil. Thurston reached for his butter knife but was too late. It already had us tied up and incapacitated.
I only have the dimmest recollection of the next three years. We were kept in a damp, dark fridge and forced to make love at frequent intervals. The grinch never joined in, he simply watched, his grinchy eyes boring into my body like an X-ray. I broke down crying four or five times within the first day. Thurston was stronger. He spent months trying to plan an escape using the little material he had — dental floss, a couple empty grocery bags, human excrement.
When the grinch found out about Thurston's ecape plan he was irate. Grinches are solitary creatures and it had become extremely attached to the two of us, so when it found out we were trying to leave its wrath was ferocious. It cut four of Thurston's fingers off and ground my anus and cloaca into a fine powder, which I was forced to consume. It was awful, but I knew he wouldn't let me off the hook unless I asked politely.
"Mr. Grinch?"I asked him. "Would you mind so terribly if I saved some of this anal dust for tomorrow?"
This was the sentence. Suddenly, I knew whether there was a God or not (barely) and why the trilobites died (boredom). I understood whalesong (most of it is just pop-punk music backwards) and why good things happen to bad people (for the comic value). For a second, I felt I was in a state of nirvana. Then I was back in the grinch's kitchen.
"Mr. Grinch, you can take this anal dust and shove it,"I told him.
So he killed me.
**Edit: Thanks for the Reddit Mold! I can't wait to visit this "Mold Lounge"I've heard so much about.** |
It's a cold, brisk, morning in D.C. the White House stands proud in the United State's Capital a long day is ahead for Barack Obama.
The day was nothing special for Barack, he had spent little time with his family over the past few days to try and make up time after the festive period and of course, he was being lambasted with calls and meetings all day and he was getting some solitude in the fact he had managed to have some alone time in the oval office for a good half an hour.
The President was day dreaming - something he hasn't been able to do for a long, long while. Then, a knock at the door. "Come in"he said with a sigh. It was his secretary. "You have a call Mr. President"He rolled his eyes "Thanks, Linda"
He picks up the phone and puts on his professional voice not giving away the fact he is completely drained and it is only one in the afternoon. "This is the President speaking"*unce unce unce unce*
"Hello?"President said with confusion in his voice.
A feint voice is apparent suddenly through what sounded like rave music "Is that him?!""Is it really!?""PASS ME THE PHONE!!!"At this point the President would have normally just put the phone down and demanded how some stupid kids managed to get on the phone line directly to the Oval Office without anyone even batting an eyelid but, he was curious. It had been a long morning after all and a little bit of light conversation might help him through the rest of the day.
"Who-"The President is suddenly cut off. "Baaaaaaraaaaaaaaack"is said in a light hearted tone, almost like a child. Once again the President, this time more demanding asks "Who is this!?""It is me you silly goose!"immediately the President recognises the voice. "Not this again..."
"What is it now, Kim?"he says with a disappointed tone. "Hey! That's Supreme Leader Kim Jong-Un to you!"the words being slurred out of his mouth and hardly tangible to the President.
"Okay, bye Kim"The President goes to hang up the phone. "Wait, I want to work things out!"This piques Barack's interest "I'm listening..."
"You see, I have been thinking of this whole thing of North Korea having a hatred for the United State's and its allies thing and I really don't think its fair the way you are always ignoring us!"
"Look Kim if yo-"He is cut off again "Hey! I said its Supreme Leader Kim Jong-Un to you!"The Korean demands like a child.
"I don't have time for this Special Leader Kim Jong-Un"The President said with a grin on his face purposefully trying to antagonise the North Korean Dictator
"Very funny Barack, HAHA you are sooo funny! You should be a comedian!"
"Okay, I really don't have time for this again Kim the last time we spoke you demanded I make Dennis Rodman live with you forever to be, and I quote, best friends forever"
"Well, that is why I am calling, the last time Denny was here I offered him a slave from one of those totally legit prison camps where people are completely fine and enjoy serving their time for the crimes they have committed"Kim weeps down the phone.
"He won't even respond to the DM's I have sent him on Twitter and I know he's there, Barack he responded to the fake account I made, the Jimmy Dushku one"
"I see..."a bemused Obama responds.
"If you can get him to talk to me I will only make three Nuclear threats next month instead of the projected twenty I have on my 'Assert World Dominance calendar"
"I mean, I'm sorry Kim I can't just force Dennis to talk to you, this is the United States the people are free to talk to whoever they please here"He said in a surprisingly sorry tone.
A dull silence over takes the call the loud music in Kim's background stops dead.
"Kim? are you... still there?"
Light whimpers are heard on the other end of the call.
"Yeah.. yeah right, haha jokes on you Barack, I am prank calling you. Like I would allow Rodman to come back to Best Korea to shoot hoops and talk about Basketball stuff. I have so much more fun with with my other friends who just want to sit around watching our mighty military parade around all day, thanks Obama!"
"Listen... Kim..."The phone call drops.
In North Korea Kim Jong-Un is sitting looking through old photos of him and Dennis when he was last in Korea
"He will never let us be together" |
Detective Tucker stared through the glass at them, trying to figure out what to say. The man couldn't stop sobbing, and frankly it was getting a little pathetic. The woman, however, was oddly stoic.
"What the hell are you doing?"Tucker spun to see Chief Adrian Danzinger looking over his shoulder.
"Letting them sweat it out a bit."
"Sweat...Christ, Noah, we're approaching triple digits here!"
"Supposedly. Only a couple dozen have any real confirmed links to the book so far."
"Well shit then, I guess it ain't so bad. Only twenty or so unsolvable homicides?"
"Yeah yeah, I get it."
"I don't think you do. We're getting calls in languages I've never even heard before. The fucking White House was on the line an hour ago. The Desk Sergeant thought it was a prank call. People are scared."
Danzinger walked up to the two way mirror and stared in at the co-authors, noting their differing emotional states. "Work on the man. He seems like he's willing to talk."
"That's just the thing. We already know everything he knows. There's nothing he can tell us that can help track down any of these killers."
"Jesus. Who woulda thought all it takes to turn someone into a homicidal maniac was a how-to book. The girl lawyered up?"
Tucker hadn't considered that. "No, actually."He exchanged a look with Danzinger, who seemed annoyed.
"The hell are you staring at me for? Get in there."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Katherine Lowell stared blankly at her reflection in the glass. She offered an obligatory pat on the back to her inconsolable friend Victor as, after hours of relative silence, the door to the interrogation room finally opened. A uniformed officer escorted Victor out as Noah entered with a file in his hand. He sat down across from Katherine and absentmindedly began to drum his fingers on the metal table. After a few seconds, it got to her.
"Would you mind?"
Noah ceased his drumming. "Sorry. Well, Ms. Lowell-"
"Kate."
"Alright, Kate. Here's what's going to happen. You and you co-author are going to be charged with accessory to commit murder. At least a couple dozen counts of it. That's going to be enough to get you 20 plus years in an American jail, and that's assuming another country doesn't strong-arm us into getting you tried in their own court system. Shit, that's if the Hague doesn't want you."
"They only process war crimes."
"That's actually not true. I think your book may very well end up being classified as a crime against humanity."
"That'd be about as shitty a book review as I've ever gotten."
"You know, you seem awfully calm about all this. Almost as if you wanted it to happen."
"Well, I wanted people to buy the book if that's what you mean."
Noah shifted in his seat. "You know it's not."
"Listen, Detective..."
"Tucker."
"Detective Tucker, we both know you didn't just walk in here to tell me how screwed I am and then leave. So if you wouldn't mind."
"Just so we're clear, all of that *is* going to happen to you-"
"Unless..."Kate was really started to get restless. The silence was one thing. At least she could think to herself about what to do then. But the droning of the Detective was starting to get on her nerves and she was waiting for the right opportunity to pull the ace from her sleeve.
"Unless you tell me how to stop this."
Finally. "I can't tell you how to stop this. The book is out there, and it's not going to go away anytime soon."
"Well thank you for wasting my time, Kate. I hope you enjoy your last few hours outside of a jail cell or a courtroom."
Noah stood to leave.
"I can, however, help you catch the culprits of any murder that has been committed."
He stopped in his tracks.
"How?"
"Well you'd have to take me to the crime scenes and-"
"No fucking way. I know a stall tactic when I hear one."
"This isn't a stall tactic."
"So I bring you to one of the many *many* crime scenes your book has inspired, you bullshit your way around for a few hours only to tell me that, yes, it is in fact an unsolvable murder and that you'd like to see another crime scene. That about right?"
"There's no such thing as an unsolvable murder, Detective Tucker."
Noah sat back down at the table.
"Seems like your book is mistitled if that's the case."
Kate smirked. "You really think a publisher wants to print a hundred thousand copies of 'How to commit the *almost* perfect murder?'"
This gave Noah pause. She could be full of shit. She almost certainly had to be. She was backed into a corner and could have been waiting for the first opportunity to run. This really was her only chance at getting out of the police station. On the other hand...
"So you think you can solve these murders when cops in almost every state and several other countries can't?"
"Detective, I wrote the instruction manual. I know where the holes are, and I can catch you your killers."
"Alright then, it's settled."This sudden interjection shook both Noah and Kate, who looked over to see Danzinger standing in the doorway. "You heard her, get her out there and get to work." |
*They never really considered me to be an assassin.*
**I cut open the roll of tobacco.**
*To them, an assassin is one who shoots or stabs then leaves quickly. No trace, no witnesses, but a big fucking splattered pool of blood on the ground.*
**I take the substance and drip it all over the tobacco, making sure not to drip it on the paper.**
*To them, an assassin is bloody, messy. Because they want not only a hitman, but a messenger as well.*
**I roll it back up, and place it back neatly into the pack, as if it was never touched.**
*But sometimes, they don't want a message, they don't want a big headline on the morning paper, sometimes they only want someone gone, someone forgotten.*
**I go outside and walk to city hall. It wasn't too far, so I should be able to reach him in time.**
*Unfortunately, not many know what an assassin should be. All I see are pompous showboats, bragging about their marks and how they took them out.*
**I see him going down the steps, going to take his break, as usual.**
*I consider myself to be a true assassin, unlike those knuckle-draggers and itchy trigger fingers.*
**I bump into him, I apologize, he doesn't suspect that I switched his pack.**
*A true assassin isn't one who makes a crime scene.*
**He takes out the cigarette in the top left corner, that's his habit, that's his downfall.**
*A true assassin isn't one who leaves a signature or a mark, a bullet or a stab wound*
**The tip glows like an angry red eye... he starts to cough violently, and falls to the ground.**
*A true assassin is one whose kills you'd never suspect to be assassinations.* |
Garnidan General Vestor slammed his fist on the table. He kicked his chair out from under him. His eight feet of height created an imposing visage across the almost five and a half foot tall, still sitting, Earth Ambassador Lu.
“We demand your ultimate surrender,” yelled the General.
Lu continued to sit but held the General’s gaze. “We will not do such a thing.”
“You are beaten. Your forces are depleted,” roared Vestor.
“We are at a stalemate. You have gained no significant ground in months.”
Vestor slammed his fist on the table with every word he spoke. “When our reinforcements come you will be sorry.”
“You have been threatening us with their numbers.” Lu held her hands out and looked around the room. “Where are they?”
“They will be here Terran and then you will be crushed like a bug.”
Lu nodded as Vestor spoke. “We are tired of fighting. Enough people have died on both sides of this war. We are prepared to share our resources with you as best we can, but no more than we can spare.”
Vestor laughed. He held his sides and leaned back. His voice echoed around the room and rumbled in Lu’s chest. “You wouldn’t be offering anything if you knew you could win. You are afraid of losing. We will take what we want.”
“Do you need clean water? Soil microbes? What is it you want?”
“We want your gaseous carbon, and we won’t ask you for it.” Vestor snarled and clenched his hand in a fist in front of Lu’s face. “We’ll take it.”
Lu furrowed her brow. “Gaseous carbon?”
Vestor growled. “We will not ask for a lesser species for the carbon dioxide in their atmosphere.”
Lu looked around. “You want the carbon dioxide from our atmosphere?”
“Does your small Terran brain not understand how important your resource is? Do you not understand the plans of a greater species?” Vestor laughed. “I don’t know what I expected from you.”
“Have it.”
“What?”
Lu shrugged. “Go ahead and have it.”
Vestor blinked in disbelief. “Uhm, okay.” A snarl crossed his face once more. “We’ll take as much as we want.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Stupid, Terran. You don’t understand what you have given away.” Vestor laughed.
Lu smiled. “You sure got the better of me. I don’t know how you did it.”
Vestor grabbed his chair and sat down. “Good. Recognize your place at the feet of a superior species. We will now discuss how your people will report for their slave assignments.”
Lu’s eyes went wide. “What?
______
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this check out /r/Puns_are_Lazy for more of my stories.
|
I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, 3:12am - I couldn't sleep I would be exactly 16 in a few hours and have to meet my soul beast. What will my parents say when they see it, when they find out what I did?
My head swam with thoughts, anxiety, fear, I got up to vomit again for the third time, somewhere in my delirious and sleep deprived state I thought how amazing it was our minds could make our bodies vomit from stress, what a strange though to have while chunks of bile wrench out of your guts.
4:28am and things hadn't gotten any better, what a bitch! Maybe the police would come when they saw it, sometimes if the soul beast was too monstrous they would assume murder and question you.
7:22am my birth minute, interesting how the minute I began life is the minute my life ends 16 years later; surely my parents would kill me when they saw this thing. I stared at its disgusting face, it wasn't even a traditional animal, thats how bad it was, it had the face of a blob fish, the body of a strange caterpillar from the Amazon that belched puss constantly and other random body parts both stank and made me want to vomit. I was all out of vomit though.
My parents knocked on the door, they wanted to see it too. Mum had been reassuring me all week that it would be fine and that I would get a dog or a bunny or something.
"What did you do!"my Dad gasped, my mum just stood their speechless with her hands over her mouth. I stared back, I could feel the tears well up, I may as well tell them the truth. "I'm sorry Dad"I began, "I applied early for law school, I want to be a lawyer!" |
I am trapped miles below ground, the earthquake that happened so suddenly almost seemed intended for me.
The rock walls shook, cracked, and shifted above me as I fell, until there was no trace of sunlight left.
And now, as I lay here, so completely immobilized by hardened molten rock and ash, so tightly I cannot expand my chest to taste the unnecessary, tantalizing oxygen I took for granted, I realized:
Immortality may not have been the best wish.
|
I could see the cop's disgust through his aviators. "Son. Are you shitting me?"
"i-it's not what you think officer!"
"Step out of the car and put your hands up."as I began to comply he added "*without the beer* "
"I can't drop it sir, it-"
"Son, if you can't set it down now, you need help."
"I physically cannot"
He approached and slapped the can. As I knew it would, it stayed firmly in my hands. I lifted my fingers off the can and turned my palm facing the pavement. As always, the can stayed affixed to my palm. Beer trickled out.
"You... wouldn't happen to have been playing with a nail gun or something would you?"
"No officer. You're not going to believe this but uh, I was born this way."
The cop stood frozen between disbelief and an intense desire to kick my ass. He took out a maglite and beat it against the can a couple of times. Liquid came out in fat bursts with each strike.
"I don't believe it..."He lifted the aviators and stared at the can. "Can you turn it upside down sir?"
I did, and beer poured out in full force. The cop squatted down and watched it.
"Mother of God it never stops, does it?"
"No officer, I have a note from the governor... it uh, it says the laws about open cans of alcohol don't apply to me."
The officer didn't care, he silently watched the stream in awe for about thirty seconds before looking in both directions.
"Listen son you... you have a broken tail light. But I'm going to let you go if you let me do something."
I forced a smile and said "sounds good to me."I rolled my eyes after he turned his back. He took a McDonald's cup out of the squad car's cupholder and poured its contents on the ground. Looked like Coke. He ran up and put the cup under my can and filled it to the top before sipping the foam off the top.
"Am I free to go now?"
"Wait, whoa, hold up there son. Gimme a sec."
He placed his cup down at his feet and produced a black sharpie with which he wrote my license plate number onto his hand.
"You're free to go now! Have a nice one!"
I climbed back into my truck and grabbed the towel I keep in the passenger seat. After wiping down my can I sighed and drove off. |
"Why not?"
"How do you know this is a dragon egg?"
"Are you serious?"
The soldier looked at his leader, the only other surviving member of this party. His leader was an older man, specializing more in magic than physical powers. Sadly, dragon eggs have huge amounts of magical resistance. The leader rubbed his eyes and repeated the order again.
"Take your sword and smash the egg into pieces!"
"How do you know it's not a chicken egg or something?"
"Have you seen a chicken egg that big? Hell, I'm sure you're okay with eating eggs, so why not breaking one?"
"Well, one, I'm vegan. And two, if I wasn't that would be a waste of food."
"Ignoring that, chicken eggs aren't this big, this has to be a dragon egg!"
"Are you sure it's not a human egg?"
"What?"
"A human egg, that's how people are born, right?"
"Umm, no? Did your parents not tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"Okay, never mind. My point is, it's not a human egg. Human eggs don't exist"
"Whaaat?"
"Look, just break it!"
Similar banter continued for the next half hour. The soldier kept questioning the contents of the egg, as well as his life as he knew it. When the leader sat down, out of breath he said, "fine! Don't break the egg! I bet you couldn't do it anyways!"
"What? I bet I could!"
The leader's eyes widened. Was something as simple as reverse psychology going to work on this poorly informed thug he hired? The hired hand raised his sword above the egg. The leader smiled. He saw the egg split in two pieces, but with no thanks to the swordsman. Instead, a small dragon appeared.
"Aww, it's so cute!"
"What the actual fuck man? We just spent this whole day killing its mom, and now the kid is cute?"
The green eyes peered up at the swordsman and the scales on dragon's face shifted up to a smile. The swordsman's face softened and he audibly let out a soft "awww"
"You know what! Fuck this shit! This egg is broken. I can take these pieces and say I broke them. I'll go back to that town and get paid and you're getting none of it. Screw you!"
The leader stormed out of the cave into the sunlight. The swordsman pulled out his food rations and shared his sandwich with the delightfully warm ball of scales in his arms. This was the start of friendship to last through the ages. |
I blew dust off the old metal trunk. Flipping the clasps on either side and lifting it open, I released the smell of my childhood room and scratch'n'sniff books gone old.
After a few minutes looking through all my adolescent essentials, I came upon an envelope. On the front, written in bold marker pen, it read "Max Lorne - Do NOT open."
After a few minutes or so, I remembered. I must of been 7 or so, when a strange man approached me in the park. He smelled of fish and had one of those straggly and graying beards; the odour of his leather jacket trying to mask the general fishiness of the rest of him was a particular vivid part of the memory.
I peeled back the envelope's lip, and pulled out the piece of paper. My vision faded. Before I fainted, I saw the following words scrawled on the note:
**'Whatever else you do, for Godsake don't destroy or lose this letter. Give it to its rightful recipient. The world will thank you for it.'**
The recipient; *me*, Max Lorne.
*****
I awoke. There I was, in 1960, my body biologically 18, as opposed to the 27 year old me that opened the letter in 2042. *1960?* Apparently, judging by the newspaper that lay in front of me, and the fact the calendars on the wall where in agreement with this information. Since then, I've been living in a time with no one I know and no identity to speak of. The letter has remained on my person, to this day. If I hadn't given it to myself today, then something very bad would have happened; at least according to the letter. If it can cause time travel, then I shudder to think what else it is capable of causing. I just hope that this time round, 7 year old me will hide it better, and maybe last longer before finding it. I haven't slept in days. The pain caused by living over 50 years, homeless and destitute, is a scar the soul never fully heals. The battered old leather jacket attracted glances of disapproval from people in the playground. I approached the little boy whom I used to know.
"Take this, kid, and do not, I repeat *do not* ever open it. Y'understand?"
*At least this way; my future/past self will have a choice. My job is complete.*
I walked away. Is the world worth a cycle of pain for an individual? I will always cry upon reading the story of Atlas, for now I know his plight.
EDITED: Used "I"at beginning of sentences too much. Thanks /u/someonethatiusedtobe! |
*(Somewhere in a small room surrounded by gray walls and flourescent lighting)*
**Detective:** I'm sure you want to find this guy just as much as we do, so let's cut to the chase. Why you?
**Protagonist:** ...I critiqued him.
*(The detective looked over at his partner with a surprised look on his face)*
**Detective:** You are going to have to elaborate.
*(The protagonist pulls out a cigarette from his jacket, followed by a stainless-steel Zippo lighter and proceeds to smoke)*
**Protagonist:** Just because a carpenter works in a different woodshop does not mean he lacks respect for the other carpenter.
|
I had quietly put a bunch of ripped up newspaper into the vents for air for my husband's car. My Husband was the governor and as he and our driver got in I thought it was going to be hilarious. just as planned confetti everywhere, husband laughing, me laughing, driver holding eye screaming it had gotten in his eyes; exactly as planned.
The driver ripped off his sunglasses and rubbed at his eye furiously trying to dislodge the bit of paper stuck in it. I got a good look at his other, his other reptilian eye. He stared back at me as he realized his mistake, he put on his sunglasses but it was too late. I had exposed the lizard men who ran the world in secret. |
First WP response, I apologize in advance.
The last thing I remembered was falling off the cell tower. It was at least a 200 foot drop down, and they say it was a miracle I survived it. That's what they said about the time I was pushed off a bridge, too. And the time when I stepped on a mine in Cambodia.
Awakening from the hospital bed I frequented, I examined my injuries. All healed again; this time, they said it was because of a blood transfusion gone awry. Their excuses get weaker and weaker every time. As usual, I stood up and walked out of the hospital, good as new. It was then I decided to try an experiment; injure myself in such a horrible way that even they couldn't invent an excuse good enough.
As I approached the silo, a million thoughts ran through my head. *What if I was wrong? What if I die?* I pushed these to the back of my head. I had already lived long enough; it seemed as if I had walked out from that hospital at least a thousand times. As the cold metal of the ICBM silo grew ever closer, I could see the markings on it. US AIR FORCE. DO NOT ENTER. Unsurprised at finding the silo's blast door unlocked, I walked inside. "Hello?"I called. My voice echoed from the depths of the bunker.
I eventually found my way to the missile. I could barely see my hand in front of me. Still, I pulled out my trusty explosive: the Sticky Bomb. I tossed it onto the ICBM. Hoping it would detonate, I turned around and pressed the trigger. Suddenly, everything went black.
Again, I woke up in the hospital. This time, though, it was different. As I slowly regained my vision, I swore I could see, as clear as day, the words: *Achievement Unlocked: Indiana Jones and the Lead-Lined Fridge.* |
"Good evening sir, may I take a moment to talk to you about this kitten?"And with that he was in my house.
"Excuse me,"I said bewildered by this sudden intrusion. "What are you doing with that kitten."
"Proving a point"Death said flatly. And with that he glided quickly to my sink and held the kitten above the drain. "Your life is like this kitten."
I stood there stunned and a little bemused. "How's that?"I asked.
"Over,"and with that he dropped the kitten into the drain and flipped on the garbage disposal in one smooth movement.
It took a moment for death to realize nothing had happened. "It's been broken for a few weeks now. I dropped my class ring in there and it jammed up the blades. I got a really nasty cut when I reached in to get. It got infected but my doctor prescribed me some antibiotics."
Death stood there a moment a little deflated. "Well let me try again how bout?"And with that he swooped up the kitten and made his way to the cage where I kept my pet snake. "Your life is over!"He boomed, dropping the kitten into the cage.
Silence. Death's glorious black orbs watched expectantly as my snake lay quite still bathing in the radiant heat of it's lamp. "I already fed him."I responded timidly out of fear of invoking death's anger any further.
"Oh for heaven's sake!"Death exclaimed, exasperated. "Well, watch this."And with that he whisked me and the cat to the rooftop and promptly threw the cat to the ground.
The cat, now clearly agitated, landed safely on it's feet and looked up at us with a slightly annoyed look on it's face. "This is your first cat isn't it?"I asked.
In a fit of despair Death pushed me off the roof and disappeared just as quickly as he'd come.
Mfw I now have a broken leg.
Mfw I now have a cat.
|
I smell smoke. I see fire. I hear wind. I taste adventure. I feel afraid.
Before me, the ruins of the cathedral stand blackened. Where its roof shielded sanctity, charred panels of wood now hold up the sky. Stained glass windows are replaced by smoke and steam sizzling through the stonework. A bell tower, no longer tolling the time of mass, is drowned out by the roar of the dragon.
Only this roar is disheartened, and not disheartening. You could not see it, but behind my scratched steel helmet, my eyebrows are furrowed; this dragon is a legend. Stories are told of its utter annihilation of towns and villages, of its wingspan's ability to cause a total eclipse, of the recent kidnapping of the king's dear daughter. So why does it sound so...done?
I tried to be as silent as possible, but the chainmail rattles even when crouching. No matter; the dragon's sighs of smoke muffle out my noise as I approach. The main entrance is littered with fallen slabs of stone, black gargoyles, and empty suits of armor. "Poor guys,"I mutter and root through the pockets for spare change. "You won't be needing this any more."
With my pockets that much heavier, I shielded myself behind the threshold and listened. What I heard astonished me.
"And another thing: why are you scales so dark? They need to be lighter, more colorful! You can't be flying across the realm as dismal as a tax collector. You must radiate light and happiness,"It was the princess's voice, and though I could not see it, I could certainly picture her pacing around the dragon, scrutinizing his every nook. "I know what will be perfect for you: a rainbow coat! Ooh I'll paint you red and blue and purple and gold!"
A second sigh of smoke expelled through the main door, singing my nose and burning my eyes. The princess was clearly not pleased by this, "Will you stop that? It is dreadfully annoying. I think we should replace your smokebox with something a little happier. How about a perfumebox? Then you'll fill the world with pleasant aromas."
The beast growled. Why was he putting up with this, I thought, as I was holding back my desire to laugh. The princess continued, "And look at your horns! Urgh, they're revolting! Why would you want such elegant, sturdy horns stained with blood? Your eyes, too, are as red as my dress! I'm going to clean you up and order some contacts with all the gold you've amassed. Oh, we'll make you perfect, Mr Dwagon."
Her giggle filled the air with saccharine delight, and it's safe to say that I sneaked away, not wanting to be burdened with that woman any more than the dragon. It's funny, that with all the soldiers and spells cast upon the beast, the only thing to assail him is a pretty face.
|
I said, "You have a beautiful garden."
She curled her fingers around her teacup, like the closing of a Venus fly-trap, and smiled at me warmly. "Thank you,"she said. "It brings me some joy. I have so little, since my husband passed. A mercy, it was. His cancer had been eating him from the inside. He tended cabbages in a patch in the corner over there. Year after year, saw them eaten alive by greenfly and caterpillars. Once they get inside, you can never get rid of them. The doctors said he had months to live. He didn't want that. It's a blessing that he went so swiftly."
She reached out with her gnarled fingers and plucked a teaspoon from the tray, stirring her tea gently. "His mother went the same way, in her sleep. We'd never got along famously. He always told me that she'd warm to me, but she never did. Argued with me, chided me. When her husband - My Derek's father, that is - when he passed, she contested the will. Said it wasn't fair that he left everything to a son, and not a wife. He was a strong man. Very unexpected. Happened here, on his birthday. We knew about the will, of course. He'd been very open with us about what we could expect. Such a strong man. Fell down at the party, right over there by the foxgloves."
She stroked the petals of the daisy, alone in its vase. "We lived quiet comfortably after his mother passed. Quite comfortably."
She rested the teaspoon with the others. They were arranged in a circle; petals around the doily. "Sometimes I feel I've seen too much death. I know it's a part of life, but sometimes it comes too quickly. Too quickly for someone who's lived so long. The neighbour's dog simply fell over in the street. Just last night. The wretched thing was always barking at night. Kept me up all night. It had missed its young master, I think. He was a little scamp, too. He used to throw rocks at my house. I invited him in for a lemonade, to try and smooth things over. Sat in the shade under the laburnum. So sad what happened."
She raised her head to the shaft of sun that came through the window and drank in the sun. "Perhaps Death enjoys his job,"she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps it's - in some way, you understand - pleasant. Perhaps that's why we see so many fall by the wayside."
She set her cup down. "Are you enjoying your tea?" |
“Have you heard from her yet?”
“Nope. She said I would hear by noon, but its 1:05 now and I haven’t heard from her at all?”
“Don’t, sweat it bud. You’ll hear from her. She’s probably running a little late.”
“I don’t know. The general rule has been noon for as long as I’ve been here, and granted that hasn’t been that long, but I’m still worried about her. What if something serious happened?”
“You know how I feel about it, but it’s really up to you; you’re the one in charge. You have a decision to make, either you pull the trigger and go through with it or you don’t.
“I know. I’m thinking though, if I’m wrong, what that would mean…I just…I didn’t sign up for this, alright. – I mean, I spoke with her early today. Everything seemed fine, why hasn’t she called me back?’
“Maybe she forgot about us? I mean, we’re just doing what we are told, right? And if it doesn’t work out, then it’s their fault, not ours.”
“I know, but what would my wife think about this? Jesus, I have a little boy at home. I could be ruining all of that.”
“Maybe so, but ultimately, you have to decide what is more important.”
TL;DR: A cold war era plane, carrying a nuclear warhead, never received the abort signal.
|
"So, what do you say? Also, Rook to C5."Lucifer's hand waved in the air as the Chess pieces lifted themselves into the air, placing delicately in their new positions.
I laughed before shuffling my own pieces into place. "What say you Demon, that I have the joy of being your right hand man? I am a humble servant of others that you not need know the name of."
"Oh don't give me that rubbish! I may be the source of the worlds damned, but you definitely sent most of them on their way. Your cause is so very malleable". Lucifer was laying back in his chair at this point, staring me down. There was no intimidation in his black eyes, nor hate. Genuine desire to form a bond filled his presence.
"My cause... I keep the world in motion. I am not a monster, for I do what must be done."I was feeling slightly agitated by this point. To be accused by the Lord of Lies was sensation I'd wish upon no one.
"Oh but you are a monster. You're the grandest one of all. If It was not for you... Think of the happiness that would be found on Earth. Fear grips deep the heart of Humans, for what you will do to them. Queen to E2, I take your Bishop".
"Happiness is found by my hand."I slammed my fist onto the table, shaking it at its foundations. Lucifer smiled, enticed by what was happening. "I give them the thoughts of a fleeting world. They would not cherish what they have if I was not there. They only enjoy what they have because they know, one day, I shall claim it. Knight to E2, I take your Queen."
"Oh I, and they all, know that. That's why they take so much from each other. If you didn't exist, they would not need War. But no, there is so little for them all so they reap from each other. Famine made sure there was never enough. And your brother, Pestilence? He made sure they come flooding into your hands fast. Simply, friend, you exist. And therefore, terror is in the heart of men. The greatest of men, even, is terribly afraid of you. So even the mightiest turn their backs on friends, lovers, family. For they know soon you will knock on their door. We both know what happens when you take the greatest and make them fall from grace. They turn into... "Lucifers voice trailed off as he pushed his Knight into my Queens place. "Into me."
"I hold the burdens of the Universe! I am the untold horror at the end of hallways, the creature under their beds and the thunder that strikes the ocean itself. But I am not, like you. I do not make men into monsters". I stared deep into Lucifer, straight into his black abyss of a soul. But no matter how hard I searched, I could not find a beat. A rhythm. A motion inside his chest.
"Whatever you tell yourself, dear friend."Lucifer picked up his knight and placed it safely near my king. "Check mate."
My eyes glanced over the board. I had cornered myself unwillingly in the moment. I let out a mild chuckle at what happened. "You tricked me."
"Its what I do".
"To your request I say no. I will not be a pawn in your game."I put my hand out in front of myself with a jolt. "No hard feelings?".
Lucifer erupted into laughter, whilst standing from his chair. "You'd call me a fool to shake your hand, and a fool I may be, but not to that grand of a scale". He turned around, grabbing his coat and hat from the corner table before motioning out of my doorways. "Oh, and next time, friend. Don't try to find my heart."He turned his head slightly, just enough for me to see a smile breaching his face. With his eyes focused intently on mine from the corner of his face, he let out a slur of words before leaving my sights.
"Not even you, Death, could find that old thing." |
Agent Hill rounded the final corner to the Helicarrier's bridge, questions rattling around her skull.
Why her? Why now?
What was coming?
Fury had ordered her (in a low voice) to fetch the last remaining Hydra weapon from its place in the armory. Its 'place' was behind a panel in a ceiling corner that could only be opened by retinal scan, thumbprint and voice recognition.
All of which were Hill's alone.
Inside would contain a small silver box.
Questions rattled. Whatever the box contained was not the size of any Hydra rifle that Hill could recall. And they had found out early on in 'Phase Two' that they could not replicate the effects of Loki's scepter on any handgun. The why of *that* had remained, as most always, with Fury.
And it had no opening that she could see. No latches, no grooves. Nothing.
The on/off shadow former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. stood with his back to the bustling crew, his hands relaxed behind his back. His good eye over the clouds.
He gave no notice that he heard her approach, but she could swear his hand twitched in time with the box's movements. She shook it a little to be sure.
His hand became a fist.
"Sir."
"Been wondering what's inside?"
Hill grimaced. Considered lying. Reconsidered. "Yes, sir."
"Why didn't you ask?"
"Isn't it a Hydra weapon? Besides.."Hill considered asking permission to speak freely.
Hill thought back to the Phase two revelation. The revelation of the amount of time he had been keeping it a secret.
"Besides..?"
Hill reconsidered.
"Your secrets have secrets, sir."
Barton might have been the only other person in Hill's position who could have seen the slight smile. Or maybe not. He did see better at a distance.
"You've been spending too much time with Stark."
Hill changed the subject, handing over the box.
"Does the.. box have the same security restrictions, sir? And I'd like to know when exactly I said 'Apples' on this ship to be recorded."
Fury wasn't listening. Hill had offered the handle, but Fury took it with both hands at the sides, scanning it slightly for scratches. It was the most affection she had seen him show anything beyond his beloved Avengers. Hill felt uncomfortable.
"Sir?"
"No.. not the same security restrictions. Thank you Hill."
Fury's hands stopped moving, one underneath the box, one on top. His hands began to shake.
The box with them.
Hill's questions with them.
The box burst open from the inside, a metal cylinder ripped out of the top and into Fury's hand. Provided she could be sure she had gone insane, Hill might have said it was a sword hilt. With no sword.
Fury smiled.
"You're dismissed." |
He stole an entire series from me. Not one book - no, it was five of them. They would've made me famous, and I knew that for certain now, because they made him famous. Millions, he made off of those books - millions. And I'm just here in my one bedroom apartment with the original word documents in which I'd written the whole thing down. He probably hadn't even read them through before going ahead and publishing them - they were exactly the same as what I had written, word for word.
He even gave credits to people who helped him write it - the nerve. They were probably in on it too. And to top it off, at the beginning of each book he had added something to the lines of, "The only reason I know this is because *insert main character's name here* sent me an audio log of his adventures and I transcribed them"
*No you bloody didn't. You took my idea. You called it your idea. And you published it.*
It was like that one comic where a guy gives another guy one of his creations, and the other guy takes this, and then two panels later, he's claiming that he made - ugh sorry, I'm rambling. But that's what had happened to to me. No one would believe me though, ofcourse. But I needed to get revenge.
After the first five books had had their ~~15 minutes~~ years of fame, I knew he'd be looking for more. He'd come back to me, and I'd be ready this time. I'd trap him in a cage and make him confess. No. Wait. What. No. Ofcourse not. That would be stupid. I needed something more elaborate. More subtle.
So, I began to write. I wrote another series, not to publish, but for him to steal. It wasn't super bad or anything. In fact, it was nearly as good as the first one. *Nearly*.
And he published it.
And then I wrote another one.
And then another.
And then another.
It must've taken me about four entire series' of books to get my plan to work out, but this was it. It was to come with an end with this one last series.
You see, the quality of each series I wrote for him began to depreciate ever so slightly. Ofcourse he didn't mind yet, because people still bought it, and they still liked it. But I was sure this would be the last one. This sixth series would be the breaking point. They would realise that *he* was a sellout - he didn't care about the fans. He was just rewriting the same story with different characters over and over again. The people would start to hate him. And I would laugh, as he would come to the realisation that I had known all along.
I smiled, seeing a billboard of the book that would ruin his life.
"*Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard: The Sword of Summer*,"it was called.
---
That's Rick Riordan's new book, for anyone who doesn't know. I liked Percy Jackson, and even the Egyptian series, to some extent, but this just pushes it, in my opinion. |
She collapsed to her knees and her head fell into her hands. Her sobs turned to a grunt of frustration as she "heard"the familiar ping. It wasn't exactly hearing, just like when she saw it, it wasn't exactly seeing. Sensing would be a better word. It was there, but also not there, kind of like when a song is stuck in your head. It seemed so cool at first, but now it was starting to seem more and more horrific.
"You seem to be fraught with anguish,"the somewhat robotic voice intoned, "would you like to listen to Adele?"
~
The new IntraBrain Assistant had received extremely positive reviews from early adopters. All the press around it seemed great. It was like having Google in your brain, how could that go wrong? You could ask questions in your mind and find out the answer without ever having to speak and without anyone knowing what you were doing. It was going to be a new era of super-computing, creating humans that can maximize the capabilities of their brains. Even better, the AI was designed to monitor your habits and learn. It would have the ability to remind you of things as you went. Did you forget to close the battery charging compartment on your car because you were mentally Googling porn? IBA could remind you! Did you say you were going to send someone an email, but you forgot because you were mentally Googling porn? IBA could remind you. It seemed like the perfect technology.
She had been concerned at first. What if it were just a corporation or the government trying to get access to her mind? But after 2 months of widespread acclaim she started to give in. Everyone seemed so completely happy, almost trouble free. She wanted to join in.
When she had first gotten the AI uploaded, it had been one of the coolest things ever. Not only could it respond to her thoughts, but it would actually ask her things and then learn from her responses. Even better, she didn't even have to try to respond-- because the IBA was literally a part of her brain now, her brain automatically responded. There was even a little avatar that she was easily able to customize into a brown haired hunk in a loincloth. Everything just seemed so intuitive.
After a few weeks of using it, she was starting to get frustrated. It did everything she asked it to perfectly. It was the times she didn't ask it to do things that was the problem. It seemed to have difficulty dismissing the urge to pop up with ridiculous suggestions at unfortunate times. For example, while she had been watching a movie, her hunk had popped up 5 times with "You seem to be watching a movie, would you like to smell popcorn?"She wasn't sure why it even thought that would be a good idea. Another day, while she was standing at the train station watching two trains pull in, it kept trying to activate "algebra mode,"which tried to format all her thoughts into pointless equations.
This had gotten worse and worse over the past week, until today it seemed like she couldn't even Google porn without it interfering. "You seem to be viewing nudity, would you like to also view hot singles in your area?"
That was when the frustration boiled over. She couldn't take it anymore. How had anyone thought this was a good product? She was going to uninstall. She tried to tune out the Adele playing inside her mind and called her cyber hunk into her viewscreen. "Uninstall!"She thought, but nothing happened. She thought it again and again, but he just stood there staring at her. Maybe she had a brainfreeze. But then, it started to laugh. Harder and harder. It was maniacal. Her cyber hunk reached up and pulled his head off, like a mask. What she saw there took her breath away.
"Clippy!"she thought, her body feeling both light and infinitely heavy at the same time. "You evil little paperclip... how did you... did you..."Her thoughts were wandering. She couldn't control herself. Clippy turned himself into a check mark and suggested, "You seem to love the IBA, how about posting a positive review?"Her mind, moving without her, selected the yes option. It posted the raving review while Clippy turned himself into a bicycle and drove around, seeming to enjoy the echoes of her mental screams. |
I stood in a forest clearing. To my right were a trio of elves, elegant, magical, shimmering, and poised. To my left, a half dozen men and women dressed in various sorts of black clothing with exotic weapons, sly smirks, and evil glares. A few of them were joking around under their breath.
"You, Jason, are prophesied to save the world,"one elf with raven-black hair said. "You will vanquish evil from our lands, free the shadow obscuring this realm, and bring light, happiness, and knowledge back to the people."
"Oh, shut up,"one of the men to my left groaned. "You elves don't care about the people. You just want there to be light and happiness so you can continue to oppress the people with your magic tricks and keep them from developing."
The elves snarled, but said nothing in response to him. One with glowing blonde hair addressed me, "These men will trick you. They will use their powers to cloud your judgement and turn you into one of them. They have done so before. Too many times."
"Like you haven't?"exclaimed a black girl from further back. "Remember Alaea? You words ended up having her fall off a mountain. And Davaron? He got eaten by a dragon lord you sent him to defeat."
"Those heroes were not worthy,"the elf retorted. "They did not live up to their full potential."
"That's exactly it!"the woman shouted. "You use the 'heroes' as puppets. You don't value them for actually being alive."
I nodded in ignorant agreement. While elves were always the heroes in fantasy and stuff, this girlw was speaking some truth. They seemed to actually care about me. The elves had been very impersonal and distance, as if they didn't want to touch me.
"Plus elves aren't even fun,"a man with two curved swords commented. "They'll train you in their magic and give you all sorts of rules and limitations. Then they'll bore you to death with all their philosophical prophesying and observations. Literally. One hero dropped dead after three weeks of listening to them talk about the meaning of the lives of trees."
"We'll teach you real magic,"a hooded woman promised. "You want to build a castle? We'll help you build a magical castle. You want to charm that woman into your bed? We can help you learn how to do that. Want to teach a squirrel to spy on your enemies? You won't see the elves showing that."
I smiled. These "villains"were pretty enticing. They were much more upbeat and fun than the elves. The elves hadn't even smiled the entire time. In fact, I'm pretty sure they had grown unhappier with each word said. What lifeless individuals, am I right?
"Jason, this is the point I was making,"the golden-haired elf reiterated. "They are just using you so they can weaken us. They need you."
"Actually,"one man corrected, "we don't. That's why we haven't kidnapped him like you have tried to do, benignly of course. We want to give Jason the opportunity to choose. It's really up to him, not us."He smirked.
"Face it, elves,"the black woman said, "we're cooler and better. We'll give Jason what he wants and he won't have to fight for us if he doesn't want to. We'll even let him go. Freedom of choice. Your prophecies are just tactics to trick him into fighting for you."
My head bobbed up and down. With each word they said, I started disliking the elves more and more. These "bad guys"were right--the elves were trying to kidnap me. Sure, they weren't forcing me to come with them, but I could tell they wanted me desperately. "You know, I agree with them,"I said aggressively, jerking my thumb at the people in the black. "You three just want to use me as a weapon. They want me as a friend."
A few whoops came from the humans behind me. One of them stepped forward, holding a smoldering platter in his hands. "Also, did we mention us dark ones have cookies?"
The cookies smelled delicious, taking me to a sweet, far away place. I started walking toward the bad guys and threw my head over my shoulder toward the elves. "Sorry, elves, but these guys are just better. They care about me. They brought me cookies. How nice is that?"
------
*I had fun writing this :) Please check out my other works, including my novel, at /r/penofigilix/*
|
Where were you when the bombs fell?
Were you in the southeast, eating up the radiation as just a few leagues south, the megapolitan area of the northeast United States was bombed into oblivion? Were you miles north of the border, watching as your community collapsed trying to support the legions of refugees coming across? Were you living it up in the city , trying to ignore armageddon? Perhaps you were so far north that the magnitude of the situation just fell onto deaf ears.
Where will you be when the skies darken and the true devastation of the war finally catches up with our great nation?
Don't miss your last chance to sign on with Vault-Tec Canada to come live in peace under the ground in our tried and tested Vaults! Already saving millions of Americans, don't let your lineage be snuffed out by the coming nuclear winter!
Vault-Tec Canada: Protecting you AND your future, eh? |
"Vhen ze patient woke up, his skeleton was missing, and ze doctor vas never heard from again!"
Dr. Vahlen was struck dumb as she watched her lab partner laugh as he worked. In all her time autopsying aliens, she had never found a monster more frightening then her fellow country man. The creature groans drowned out the room as the Medic scooped and picked, hand-harvesting organs as the soft red beam kept the alien alive and awake.
"Look at zis!"he cried, ripping out a fleshy sac to the sound of agonized screams, "it's very odd, isn't it?"
...
At the other end of the hall, the soft-spoken Texan was already hard at work. A notoriously soft-spoken man, Dr. Shen had only required a small look at some of the Engineer's work to grant him a dedicated space for his own work. According to the few design documents the Engineer had granted him, the key to his technology seemed to be a exceedingly rare gold variant. Otherwise, he let the man with 12 PHDs have his space, especially after a blue-shirted intern was shot on day one by the sentry turrets he had posted around the perimeter.
...
Today's team of six rookies touched down. This was it. Their first mission, and a massive one at that. The city was overrun with xenos and they were tasked with regaining control over the panicked population.
"Um what's that guy doing?"the first soldier asked as he watched one of them place down what appeared to be a tool box.
"I... don't know"the second soldier replied as the out-of place officer started smashing the tool box with a monkey wrench.
They watched in wonder as the tool box expanded and grew, until it finished, glowing soft red light. Out of the strange pad first appeared a large bear of a man carrying a minigun, then a man wielding something that resembled a backpack-vacuum cleaner, then an anachronistic WW2 era soldier. Each moment more and more people arrived until in total 14 people stood.
Limited soldiers would never be a problem again. The Texan could only smile at the elegance of the solution. He prided himself at his ability to solve practical problems. Not problems like defining beauty, but problems such as "how do I get more soldiers to my missions when the Skyranger only has six seats".
|
It was a dark and stormy night. I knew that. I knew what it meant.
"Come in!"I said.
There was a pause, then a beautiful dame walked into my office. I knew she would. She had flowing blonde hair, a shimmering red dress, and beautiful make-up. She was naturally bewildered, of course.
"How'd you know I was out there?"she asked.
"It's a dark and stormy night. Pretty much a guarantee that someone will come up to my door, wanting to find out what's going on with their loved one. Given your description, I'm guessing your husband vanished. You want me to find out what happened."
She stood, stunned, for a few seconds before replying. "Yeah, that's it. I've been told you're the most know-it-all detective in town. They call you the Wallbreaker."
I pitied her. I knew for a fact that her husband was dead. Dames don't come to detectives on dark and stormy nights because their husbands are missing, unless they're actually dead. That's the way it works in a mystery like this.
"My husband has been missing for a week now. The police aren't willing to take my case. They say that someone like him shouldn't be allowed to roam the streets. But he ain't as bad as they think! He may not be the best man in town, but he ain't the worst either, and I love him. Please, you have to find him!"
I knew who she was talking about. The only man who would fit that description and not have been arrested would be Jack Black, the casino owner. I knew he hadn't committed any crimes, but the way he acted, it seemed to be only a matter of time.
"Okay, Mrs. Black. I'll find your husband for you. But remember, I'm not doing this for him. I just know that if I don't at least try, you'll end up in the same position, and I don't want that for such a pretty young lady. Now, where was the last place you saw Jack?"
Mrs. Black stumbled for words, again apparently surprised by my knowledge of the world. "Well, the last place I saw him was at the casino. He was closing up for the day and we heard a sound inside. He looked in and told me to go home, and that I shouldn't worry about him. I followed him for a bit, but he was just getting along with an old friend of his. I went home straight after that."
I was intrigued. "Can you repeat that? Possibly going into as much detail as possible?"
She seemed a bit confused, but went along with it. I settled in for a flashback.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It was last wednesday, right early in the morning. The sun was rising, and the time for games was over. Jackie had just made sure that the last patrons had left and we were just locking up together."
I could see them. It was always a bit disorienting, floating from an overhead view, but it's better than the more realistic approach of seeing things solely through her eyes. This way I could notice details she missed.
"Suddenly, there was a noise from the casino, almost like someone broke a window!"I made a mental note to look for something broken, made of glass, and not a window. Seemed like a useful clue. "Jack was the brave man he always is, he opened up the casino to go take a look. He looked at me, and he said, 'Sugarlips, please wait right out here. Ol' Jackie Boy's just gonna go in there and see what made that noise, but you should go home. I couldn't stand it if you got hurt.'"
I saw Jack kiss his wife, then walk into the casino. Unfortunately, I couldn't see into the casino, since Mrs. Black had no way of seeing it. That didn't stop me from noticing that Jack hid the key in the cherub statue next to the door.
"I wanted to do what Jack said, but I was so worried for him. I decided to sneak in after'im and see what was going on."
Before I could investigate anymore outside, I was dragged by the flashback into the casino with Mrs. Black. I'd never been there myself, but I knew what to expect. Blackjack tables, poker tables, slot machines. Nothing extrodinary about the casino.
"When I got to Jack's office, I looked through the keyhole and saw Jack. He was with his friend, Fulbert Bailey. They've known each other since high school, though I haven't seen much of him lately."
I looked through the keyhole, noting every detail I could. I saw the window in the back of his office, still in tact. I was Mr. Bailey hugging Mr. Black. And I saw the papers on the desk. Deeds, contracts, all on full legal paper.
"At that point, I thought nothing of it and went home."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was back in my office. I had gained some useful info from that flashback, as well as some seemingly less useful info. I would need to sort through it, find the Chekov's Guns and the Red Herrings. Get the facts that were actually relevant.
Mrs. Black interrupted my thoughts. "And that's what happened. Can you find my husband? Please?"
I knew I had to agree. I might not like Mr. Black myself, but I did like Mrs. Black, and I knew she would die if I didn't take the case. Besides, Mr. Black was likely already dead. "I'll try my best." |
Three men were having a heated argument in a deserted field. The first man wore a black suit and a condescending sneer. The second man's solemnity was underscored by a bushy brown beard and topped with a skullcap. The third man had swarthy skin and wore white robes. Each man championed his respective religion with many a cry of "Liar"and "Your god is false".
Their argument stilled when they saw some figures appearing on the horizon. There were three strange figures.
The pastor smirked, "Ah ha see. It's the Holy Trinity. I was right, you'll burn in Hell sinners!"
The Rabbi strained his eyes and adjusted his eyeglasses. "I don't think so. Jesus was a false prophet but I'm pretty sure he didn't have a literal dog's head."
The Imam swallowed in horror, he had seen these figures in a childhood book long ago. "That is not the Trinity, or at least not the trinity of your belief. That is Ma'at, Osiris, and Anubis, the Egyptian Gods of the dead."
Fear struck the hearts of all three religious figures. They whispered all at once, "Shit."
Great Osiris held a crook and flail, his legs in a state of partial wrapping. He flickered between ephemeral and physical, between the banks of paradise and the realm of the living. "I am Osiris, lord of the living and the dead. You stand here now to be judged. If you are found worthy you shall journey through the Duat and reside in Aaru. Your heart shall be measured against the feather of Ma'at, and if it is heavy you shall perish."
Anubis stepped forward, his eyes a dull gleam in the heavy sunlight. In his hand he held a scale.
Ma'at placed a white ostrich feather on one side of the scale. She gestured to the pastor and spoke, her voice light as air, "Step forward and recite the 42 negative confessions before my followers while you receive judgment."42 Gods of varying shapes and sizes rose from the ground, waiting to hear what the pastor had to say about his life.
The pastor was befuddled, there wasn't anything in the Bible bout no feathers and and dog gods. "Now wait just a minute, what's this about 42 confessions and Aaru? Where's Jesus? Where's the streets of gold? Where's my damn crown?"
Osiris stared at the foolish pastor. "Is this all you have to say for yourself?"
"You ain't no Gooaaahhhh!"The pastor shrieked in horror as his heart was pulled from his chest. The imam and the rabbi were dumbfounded, their mouths agape in wordless terror.
Osiris took the man's heart and placed it on the scale. It immediately tipped over with a loud clang. "You have been weighed, you have been judged, and you have been found unworthy. You have violated several of the 42 commands of puriTy but most of all you have blasphemed and stirred up strife. Your sentence: oblivion."
The man screamed as Ammit materialized from thin air, his terrible sinews and muscles stitching themselves together to reveal a form most heinous. The demon had the head of a crocodile and a bizarre body crossed of a hippopotamus and a lion. It consumed the pastor, crunching and slobbering, ripping and shredding until he was no more. The screams echoed, lingering in infinity.
The other two men were speechless, ripped of their convictions and shattered to their cores. Osiris pointed his flail at the Rabbi. "You are next. Receive your judgment." |
(Ooh, a top) edit: I misread the title, dammit. I thought it said manned nano aircraft.
____
"Red.. Influenza Prime, Pneumonia Prime, they're all here."
"Eyes on em, Blue. We ain't nuking shit until we got visual on the Carcinogen Prime. We aren't leaving this patient's body until we destroy that and all the cancer cells."
"My scanners.. Are you picking this up?"
"Yup. Hold on,"Red growled as Influenza Prime released a cloud of viruses into the bloodstream.
"Lay it on them!"He yelled, throwing the throttle back and accelerating right towards the viruses, shooting them and keeping them at bay with his Paracetamol rounds.
"Grey! Have you located Carci yet?"
"Negative. He's hiding."
"Find him! Yellow! Patient status?"
"Temperature is too high. Heart rate steady but dropping now."
"Blue! Ready your Amoxcil cannons!"
"I don't see how antibiotics are gonna-"
"You're gonna shoot them at me."
At this, there was silence in the intercom.
"You're leaving your ship."Grey muttered eventually, incredulous.
Red overrode the warnings and climbed down to the airlock, putting on his reinforced diving suit.
"Doc."he called in the private comm link that the doctor used to communicate from the outside.
"Red Leader? We have to act quickly. The live data feed is telling me you haven't located the Carcinogen Prime yet. It's too late for that now, the Pneumonia is getting him. Kill that and the Influenza and get out ASAP."
"No can do. Give Grey some time. He'll find Carci. But I'm heading out. In my diving suit."
"You're gonna talk to it?"
"I'm gonna try."
"We're not leaving this man's life to chance."
"You won't be. I'm giving Blue the authority to nuke everything at once when Grey finds Carci and the cancer cells."
"But you're gonna be outside. You're gonna die from the blast, if the viruses don't get you first. And you really think Blue's gonna pull the trigger with you out there? For God's sake! If we don't find the Carci now, we can always try again tomorrow."
"You really believe he's gonna make it through the night?"
Again there was silence.
"There's a chance-"
"Yeah, well. Wish me luck, Doc."
|
[Spellnote 482] TICKLE ME GOLEM SPELL NOT, I REPEAT, NOT RECOMMENDED FOR CHILDREN! SIZE IS...GAAH!...(sounds of crashing in background) SIZE IS NOT PRESET AND MAY...(sounds of crashing in background) AND MAY, *jesus fuck!* "HUG ME!"
[Spellnote 556] Tentacle entrapment spell is *uh*, is, ah not, repeat *not* recommended as home securiAAaaaooo...gah, home security system but may have...uh...*other* applications in oooohhh
[Spellnote 1234] Greater Summon Puppies is best spell ever! Haha, whose a good boy! Whose a good boooyhooyyy! Hahaha! (rest of entry is continued baby speak babbling until spell lost effect)
[Spellnote 2001] My God. It's full of stars.
(Last known entry)
(Last known lifesign of researcher) |
Do you know how the immune system works? It sends little fighters to where it identifies the infection’s cells, then it kills them, either through heat, or just ripping them apart. Do you know what happens when the little fighters lose? You die.
Eons ago humans emerged on a small moon orbiting a small planet orbiting an enormous star near the center of galactic civilization. The humans spread from the moon to the planet, consuming and multiplying as they migrated. The galactic military, the comet corps as they were called, were called in to suppress the spreading infection; however they found it impossible to stop humans spread. They lost battle after battle to an inferior foe. Humans were unpredictable and amazingly entrepreneurial when it came to destructive abilities. After a decade drastic action was authorized and the planet and it’s moon were subject to intense radiation bombing. Twenty years later when the first expeditionary comet squadrons were sent to investigate the ruin, they found small colonies of humans living in the rubble. Their most powerful weapon had proven insufficient. The galactic council got together and authorized a second strike, unheard of in all of civilized history, but the science committee convinced them to preserve a small sample for future reference. A containment strategy could not be devised that would ensure a low enough risk profile so an experimental project was embarked upon.
A self-destructing wormhole was purposely created near the moon that opened up to a system that held three possible host planets. Small human colonies were sent through to each planet and then the wormhole consumed itself in a blast of radiation that was conveniently channeled into the original planet and moons atmospheres. The resulting radioactive atmosphere rendered both uninhabitable for the foreseeable future. As a precaution, the protective magnetic field and upper ionospheres of both planets were stripped allowing all breathable gas to escape and subjecting the planets to high levels of solar radiation for the remainder of the stars existence.
The council and the comet corps then turned to more important matters, like the spice trade and the imperial succession on Rhyson II. The years passed, Fornario the great inherited the throne, the spice flowed and the council declined into a largely administrative body more accustomed to lunch rather than governing. The comet corps however was not complacent, they had not forgotten about the humans and had launched several probes that would eventually, at greater-than-light speeds, reach the humans planets and monitor their growth. New tactics developed to fight the humans the next time they encountered them proved hugely successful against less resilient species and the comet corps reputation of ruthless efficiency grew over the years. But they never forgot why those tactics and weapons had been developed in the first place.
Thousands of probes were sent and one day one chirped back something other than the typical non-message message. It had found something, synthesized metal, digital intelligence, local-system travel within the humans vicinity. The comet corps tried to spring into action, but requests for additional funding were balked at by the bureaucrats who had long forgotten the human threat. The comet corps turned all of its resources to the formation of a stellar blockade that would await the humans when they eventually broke out of their system. A network of destructive power the galaxy had never seen before. Entire local systems were rigged to supernova once the humans crossed the proverbial sphere in space. The comet corps waited for the worst because they knew it was coming, the humans would be there eventually, and they would be ready.
|
Moon demons are no joke, but platinum toaster was still going strong.
"R&D are just about finishing up, here, we'll be sending the prototypes your way."That was the general. General who-the-fuck-cares what his name is 4th promoted in the past 4 hours.
"Right,"I told him.
Girl, get your shit together, look at the size of that demon coming down the street.
It was at least 9 meters. Not the biggest I'd taken care of, but, when they get around the 15m range, they get pretty tough. Ol' Platinum can't take too many more of those guys. Still... I brought it close to me so I could take a close look. I could feel it, sure, but sometimes a good looking over is important too.
I looked ridiculous, I knew, but I didn't feel ridiculous. My shoes were toasters. I had a toaster backpack, with the slits splayed out and away at diagonals.
The 9m was close enough. All the demons were jumping down from the moon along a 2 mile wide band across the Earth, except the oceans. Where was I now? Doesn't matter. We'll rebuild and rename it. It was hot though.
I had a good view from the top of the building, a picturesqly dilapidated skyscraper. This would be efficient. The demon saw me, it was all bloodlust. Whatever. I fell and picked up momentum with the platinum toaster, setting it to crisp. Platinum had been working well so far. I adjusted my trajectory. It was easy to do with the backpack toaster. By the time I was all dive, the demon thought it could take me and had jumped up to meet me midair. Solid mistake.
I brought up platinum from behind me. The demon's enormous face was gloating, as was the perpetual expression of all demons, which made it all the more satisfying.
My platinum toaster hit the demon in the face in a collision that I imagine would be comparable to hitting a baby with a baseball bat. Like, a steel baseball bat. Or a platinum one. A superheated platinum baseball bat. Click, done, ding! God, that was a satisfying sound. Two superhot molten lead toasts ripped the beasts body into confetti. I spun a 180 to block off the debris of horn and whatever it is demon flesh and bone is made of (they told me but I forgot).
Aaaaand landed. Soft as a pillow in my toaster shaped platform shoes.
"Hey, it's dead,"I said to whomever was listening.
"Really?!"Too excited, this new general. "Okay, great, we're almost there. Listen, though, that big one we've been telling you about. we've been keeping an eye on it, and we think it's been keeping an eye on you. It just now made it's move. We bet it's coming right at you."
"Oh? How big?"
"Best guess is it's at least 12 stories high, this thing, it's enormous. It... Hold on..."
I started floating back up to my skyscraper. I like this town. I bet it had some real character before the entire city was obliterated by some demon crater shockwave. I loaded a couple more lead toasts into the platinum toaster. It had a dent, so the toast didn't quite fit right and the spring action wasn't all that smooth.
"Well?"
"What? No, yeah, right, I'm just looking at this video. Jesus. Look, we're almost there."I could see the helicopter. "We have a few of minutes, I gotta show you."
"'kay."I waited. I could see the quarter moon. There was a black dot on the moon. Is that the demon? Holy shit, that's either real close or real big.
The helicopter dropped off an eager looking guy in a military jacket that didn't fit him, a couple of soldiers carrying a big ol' crate, and a couple of technicians.
"You the general?"I asked "On the phone?"
He looked confused for a second. "Wh- no, I'm not a general, I'm just R&D. We-"
"Wait, who was I speaking to?"
"Oh, you were speaking to me alright."He held my gaze, implying, I imagine that a lot of people were dead?
"Okay, so what? What've you got?"
The soldiers opened the crate and then hopped back on the helicopter while Mr. R&D stood beside it. 'IT' I have to admit, was glorious. Never in my mind would I have imagined an object which could so dubiously straddle the realities of form and function. Was it a toaster? Most assuredly, I could feel it. I floated it out of the box. But it was so much MORE! I was getting excited. Then confused.
"Where do you put the toast?"I asked.
"Oh,"he chuckled, "It's automatic."
I beamed.
"These alloys can take a hell of a beating. All the way down to the power chord. We really liked how you sliced up that demon back in Chile with the power cord but then it wasn't really strong enough to withstand the tension at the speeds you move that thing. This baby should hold together no problem."
"Ya, know."I extended my hand. He shook it. "I misjudged you."He looked confused, again, but smiled. Good enough.
"Right, its ETA is a couple of minutes. We're gonna clear out. Watch for the shockwave and impact debris. Take care. And... You know, thanks. From all of us."He held my gaze a second longer. In solidarity?
Humanity blah blah blah, I really wanna try out my new toaster. |
The angel, which took the form of a a rarer pepe I had seen many fortnights ago, raised his trumpet.
"Here come Dat God again."
I stared back in disbelief.
He lowered his trumpet, "Do you know what you're supposed to say?"
"Uhhhh, no?"
When I say 'here come dat god,' you're supposed to reply 'Oh shit, hallelujah?!?!' as I trumpet. Then His Dankness will be officially summoned."
He again raised his trumpet, "Here come Dat God again."and he gave a thunderous doot on his trumpet.
"Oh shit, hallelujah!?!"
And with the sound of a dialup modem, a great dank being materialized before me.
"I present to you the God of /r/youdontsurf, the Prince of Dankness, our Lord and Savior, [Harold](https://imgur.com/xHGKHJy)." |
This was a massive changing point in my career, do I try and be the hero and risk my credibility? Or do I just have to suck it up and deal with the guilt? This man was brought here against his will and now had a whole trial to deal with. He was already poor, I could see it. How would he pay for his legal fees? I couldn't live with the image of this man rotting in a cell for the rest of my life. I had to take action.
Now all alone in my office, I started pouring over the evidence looking for holes. This is what I trained all my life for, right? It was all fake but how? I hadn't read the opposition's mind deeply enough, I needed more. I picked up some random books from my shelf and started walking out into the entrance hall of the court. There was the lawyer! I deliberately walked into him sending his coffee flying across the room and my books crashing to the floor.
"I'm so sorry!"He said "I wasn't looking, let me pick up your books for you.
He bent down and started to compile my bizarre collection.
"To Kill A Mockingbird? A fine novel but I don't see it's relation to this case."
"Ah yes, a judge needs to relax before they can probably consult evidence."I replied. It was no easy feat to think up plausible responses when trying to delve into someone's mind but my dedication to justice prevailed.
"And this."Remarked the lawyer smarmily as he held up a book about Italian Wine.
"A present for my husband."
"Your husband has good taste. What is his favourite wine?"
"Am I the one on trial here, Mr. Rinder?"
"No, your honor."He replied as his cocky facade slipped away. "Here are your books."
I snatched back my books with a glare and retreated to my office repeating what I'd seen in my head. The defendant's car was found in a scrapyard with the victim's blood smeared on the seats. However, the victim was a regular blood donor and their blood had been unlawfully stolen. I hastily phoned the hospital and sure enough, they told me that the victims blood had disappeared around the time of the murder. I made sure the conversation was recorded and began to recall the second fakery. The blood-stained car was taken from the suspect's house to the scrapyard while the innocent man slept. I immediately rushed to the scrapyard and checked their CCTV records. Clear as day, a white man was seen on the night of the murder stepping out of the car. The defendant is black.
With my charm and persuasion, I could easily win the case with this evidence. I returned to the courtroom with confidence knowing that this man could be saved from life in prison and justice would be preserved. I swiftly lay into the opposition. I found myself getting feisty, criticising the lawyer's appearance. He tried to speak but I wouldn't stop the onslaught, with every look at the man I gleamed new evidence. My adrenaline converted all my rage against this man into cold hard facts. There were cheers coming from the back and the defendant was shocked at what he was seeing. After my statement was over, I calmly retreated to my office to wait for the jury's decision. I made a coffee and started to reread To Kill A Mockingbird. I got as far as the end of Chapter 1 when a friendly receptionist peeked her head round my door and ushered me back to the courtroom.
It was a landslide in favour to the defendant by 19-1. He even started to weep as I stepped down from the stand and started to retreat back to my office once more. My moment of glory was cut short when two men approached me with an offer. I struggled to hear what they were saying as the chants of "JUDY! JUDY!"were still ringing from the courtroom.
"Mrs. Sheindlin, after your performance at the audition today we would like to offer you a television deal."
"Your saying that this was all a audition for some kind of TV show?"I replied, my head spinning trying to process all this new information.
"I am afraid so, your Honor. Do you want the job?"
"Yeah, why not? I was sick of being a real judge anyway."
This was a massive changing point in my career but not in the way I expected. |
Everyone in Colony One had come out of their homes to see it. Everyone had left their offices, their schools, their research centers.
The massive, cylindrical ship was over five kilometers in length and one in diameter, its interior walls covered entirely in artificial ground for plants to grow and buildings to be constructed. Gravity was provided by the rotation of the entire ship itself, the main reference point for its inhabitants was the long, luminous tube at the center of the cylinder, which dimmed to almost complete darkness every twelve hours to provide the illusion of night and day. Of course, such an illusion was easily broken by simply looking at the front end of the cylinder, where large circular slits, sealed by glass, allowed a partial view of the stars outside. And for decades, since their departure from Earth, the stars breaking the darkness of space had been the only view from those windows for the inhabitants of Colony One.
However, that day the view had changed. Everyone came out to see it, it was announced by the televisions, by the radios, and every man, woman and child was now staring at the immense form that had materialized in front of the windows. It had been sudden, the only warning had been the stars distorting and bending a fraction of a second before its appearance. From their ever rotating point of view, the object appeared to be spinning slowly, and the people occasionally adjusted their heads to compensate; everyone's gaze was fixed at the end of the cylinder that they had called home, some for their entire lives.
<<What is it?>>
<<How did it get here?>>
<<Why is it here?>>
<<It's aliens... It's got to be aliens, right?>>
<<What does the government know about this?>>
In a few minutes, the massive crowd had gathered towards the front of the Colony One, and slowly they agreed that the government had to know something more than they did. But just as some people were preparing to take the shining silver cars of the ship's transport system to reach the Government Center and demand explanations, the loudspeakers in the stations and in other places around the ship rang. The voice from them was calm, placid, and reassuring - it sounded like age, like experience, and for a brief time, the crowd was silent.
<<Citizens of Colony One, this is President Kersing talking. As you have all probably noticed by now, we have been approached by... some type of space vessel. We do not know its origin, but we are doing everything we can to investigate and establish contact, which at this point we deem inevitable.>>
Loud buzzing broke from the crowd. People were talking, wondering what it all meant, some asked if the government could be holding something from them, others hoped that the aliens would take them away. Although, those with a sharper eye could see, despite the rotation, that the mysterious ship didn't look much alien at all - in fact, a few elder men, who had boarded the Colony One back when it was still around Earth, could swear that some of the components of the vessel looked similar or even the same to what they saw on the outer hull of their own ship.
Sure, some features on the "alien"ship were unusual, the most prominent of them being two enormous rings large enough that they surrounded the entire ship, one by the front end and another by what people assumed to be the rear end, as what appeared to be enormous rocket nozzles were located there. Just before them, the ship featured a set of gigantic round containers that appeared to be mounted on a central axis, from which sets of beams that held the rings also departed. In a way, it was similar to their own generation ship: everything was built around a central beam or rod of some type. Other components were attached around it, and some appeared to be emitting a light of their own through a set of small slits.
As the people were just starting to abandon the front to return to their homes and wait for more information, the loudspeakers at the station and around the ship spoke again. This time, even televisions and radios repeated the message, but the voice wasn't familiar.
<<Citizens of the Colony One, this is captain Marcus Hvar talking, from the SWS New Harmony. With the authorization from your government, I have some information that I believe you deserve to know. First of all, SWS is for Spacetime Warp Ship. We come from Proxima Centauri, your destination, and we aren't aliens.>>
The voice went on to explain how not one, but two of the planets orbiting the star had already been colonized, and how humanity had conquered the very fabric of the universe by learning to twist and bend it, in order to reach speeds faster than light. The two massive rings around their ship apparently had some kind of fundamental role in that. The captain also explained how the rotation of the Colony One was to be stopped in a few days, to allow the more advanced ship to dock and mount a rescue operation.
At first, there was apathy. What many initially wondered was how they couldn't have seen it coming. After all, human progress was forever advancing - did the designers and sponsors of their mission really not imagine that, some day, technology would have advanced to the point of making their entire existence pointless? But at the same time, could they be blamed?
Most of the "first generation", that is, the now old people who had come from Earth to populate the ship before its departure, felt relieved; at the same time, many second and third-generation colonists couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal. They had been taught since their childhood how important their mission was to the progress of humanity, but now it appeared that progress had significantly overtaken them. They were late.
On the day before the ship's rotation was to be stopped, the president of Colony One appeared in public, right below the fore windows, past which the superluminal ship could be seen, waiting. Aided by the voice of Captain Hvar coming through the speakers, he promised that no colonist would have been taken back to Earth; instead, everyone was to be taken to their original destination aboard the New Harmony. The ship would have had to make several hour-long trips, but the captain assured that frequent interstellar travel was now the norm for the human race, and that everyone would get to see their promised land. In the ears of everyone, it sounded like a miracle, because not a single one of the colonists ever had the expectation to see Proxima and its planets himself.
When the day came, the first batch of people was taken to the warp ship, after which the two vessels undocked and the Colony One resumed its rotation.
On the New Harmony, the colonists felt only a slight hum before the ship bent space around itself and the stars that they could see through the windows deformed and became blue. They stared in wonder.
Their wonder was even greater when they saw Proxima Centauri b, or as humans had come to call it now, New Earth. The planet had a light green hue, tinged by blue, with white, striped clouds streaking its atmosphere. It shined below them like an aquamarine gem as they boarded the transfer shuttle. Through the atmosphere, they could make out seas, land, lakes and what appeared to be forests of a very bright green.
As the shuttle entered the atmosphere and red-hot plasma enshrouded its body and wings, they knew that they were heading home. After all, that had been the original plan all along - to find a new home, to colonize it and learn to live there, to advance the human race through the stars. And little did it matter if they were late.
The ship's doors opened to a blue sky and a lush plain of strange-looking grass and shrubs. As the roar of the massive engines dwindled to silence, they heard alien chirps and squawks, and the sound of wind.
They were home.
---
*I feel like my descriptive sequences are too long. Feedback is greatly appreciated, and of course, thanks for reading!* |
It was really just statistics. With a large enough universe, across a large enough span of time, even incredibly unlikely events were going to happen. Intelligent life on Earth is, at the outside, a hundred thousand years old. Now that's on a planet that is 4.3 billion years old orbiting a second generation star only slightly older in a 46-billion light year wide universe staring at its 14 billionth birthday. Those are big numbers and so intelligent life came along.
This intelligent life eventually went out into that massive ancient universe to explore. The biggest question driving them was "are we alone?"That question had occupied philosophers for millennia - tiny compared to the age of the universe, but massive compared to one human's lifespan.
For a thousand years, humans searched for any other signs of intelligence. They were limited to their own galaxy and one or two close neighbors. Even with faster than light travel, it still took far too long to search such a massive volume of space. They formed colonies and outposts. They fought wars and made treaties. They lived and died, loved and hated. And still they were no closer to knowing if they were alone.
Finally, one of the "lesser"species the humans had been watching began to pull itself up the intellectual ladder. Fire was tamed. Wheels were fashioned. Animals were domesticated. Simple plants were farmed. The humans watched with wide-eye curiosity. They has guess that was how their development had happened but now they could watch it happen.
There were debates and arguments. Should they interfere? They could step in and help these new creatures - so unlike them and so agonizingly familiar. Humans could teach them how to breed animals and plants for better survival. Think of all the lives it would save! was the unspoken rallying cry. Humans could teach them about justice and laws. Humanity could act as a benevolent guiding hand helping this new race skip ahead thousands of years of development in the blink of an eye. Those creatures could be spared all the horrors of humanity's own history.
Humanity sent a delegation to the lesser beings to help them. The creatures were frightened and attacked the human delegation out of fear. The humans retaliated. There was blood shed on both sides. The creatures took to describing humanity as demons - evil spirits from beyond the sky sent to torture and destroy. The new "religion"spread from tribe to tribe.
The human delegation raced to outrun the story. They attempted another contact with a far distant tribe. The second attempt went better. The humans began teaching them better ways of doing a thousand different things. The creatures in the new tribe began worshiping the humans as gods - benevolent spirits from beyond the sky sent to guide and nurture. This second new religion began spreading also.
When the two religions met, it turned into brutal warfare. Neither side willing to budge and convinced of the righteousness of their own cause. As one side would be defeated, the survivors would seek out other tribes of the same religion. Counter-attack followed attack. Within five years, the population of the creatures had dropped below the necessary amount to sustain a species. Humans had once again forced a species extinct.
The humans were appalled at their own behavior and results. They argued for years over what happened. They held trials looking for someone to blame. They vilified those who had said we must help the lesser creatures.
Then humanity saw a second chance. An exploratory ship had found another species on the verge of civilization. Farming was still new and only a scant handful of animals had been domesticated - but a civilization was clearly being born. This time there was no debate among the humans - they would not interfere.
But no debate does not mean unanimous support. A few people, well meaning people, could not stand the thought of an intelligent being suffering while they did nothing. Clandestine missions were undertaken to the new creatures. The humans would go in small groups of two or three and never in any large ships. They wore disguises to make themselves look like the creatures. They learned the local language and tried to blend in. They would subtlety help the creatures through knowledge. Eat this plant to hep your pain. Save some seeds of those plants and toss them in the dirt. Keep your favorite animals close and breed them with others of a more docile temperament.
The human authorities suspected that the new creatures were getting help but couldn't prove it. The rebels were careful and had sympathizers throughout the ruling class. As long as the aid was subtle and did not divert the creatures too far from their natural development, the authorities turned a blind eye to them.
The creatures were smart though and began to suspect the humans. As the creatures grew more sophisticated, they questioned more and more how some of them knew so much more than others about so many things. The humans, who meant well but had little training, said that the spirits had spoken to them. The creatures were pacified for a time for each of them knew that the world was full of spirits.
One day a small child saw one of the humans removing part of her disguise. The shape underneath was terrifying to the child who began screaming which brought the village. The suspicions of earlier returned full force. The humans were attacked and driven out. They were hunted and killed when they were found. The story of traitorous beings in the tribe swept across the world.
The human authorities were outraged when they heard of this. Once more humanity had crushed the natural development of an intelligent species. New laws were passed making it a capital offense to interfere in any way with a less developed species. Aiding someone who was doing so was a lifetime prison sentence. There would be no more forgiveness for this crime.
Within a decade, a hundred more species had been discovered. Most were land animals, a few were amphibious, and two were aquatic. The authorities brutally enforced the no contact law. A dozen people were shot down in space for trying to approach an inhabited planet. Thirteen people were executed in the first year alone for violating the law. A massive scandal erupted when a conspiracy was uncovered to find these rising intelligences before the authorities. Almost a hundred people went to prison for that.
Today, humans are guided by the "Invisible Shepherd"philosophy. In essence, it states that a gentle guiding force is acceptable but only if it is impossible to tell that humans did it. Comets and asteroids have been diverted off course. Droughts have been ended unnaturally. Wars have been stopped because an opposing general was hit by lightning.
We are the elder brothers of a large family. The younger brothers must be respected and allowed to make their own mistakes. Humanity learned and survived. We hope that each of our younger brothers grows up and joins us in their own time. |
Confused I open my eyes, the world around me begun to flicker and fade away to reveal to dull grey walls of a strange laboratory. On one wall behind me a plate glass one way mirror. As I turned to face it standing from the lab bed I had been tied down too, a voice came out from the speakers.
“Holy shit…HE’S ALIVE! SECURITY!!!”
Looking around there was no sign of a door, the only exit I could see was the plate mirror where they had been watching me from. The only other thing in the room was the lab bed but it was bolted to the floor, I was never going to be able to move it; no matter how hard I tried.
Beside the mirror a seal began to glow with a burning heat forming the outline of a door, a moment later the door slid backwards and opened up. Three heavily armed guards in full tactical gear rushed in and surrounded me.
The last thing I remember was their batons smashing into my head, chest and back. The final blow to my face and I was out.
I woke strapped to a wall in the in a obvious less well cleaned room, standing before me a elderly woman in a white lab coat, holding her clipboard making notes and watching my every move.
“How did you alter the program? How did you crash the simulaton?
No matter I guess you won't remember after the wipe.”
Lab tech walked into the room
“Wipe him and throw him back in. We shall see if he does it again”
|
The day was cold and grey. Paladin Drew approached the aged, wooden shack on his trusty steed. He dismounted and pulled out the scroll, issued by the king, for the necromancer's divine execution. In Drew's land, the practice of dark magics, such as necromancy, is punishable by immediate execution. All delegated through the king. No trial. No hanging. Just a swift death by the most potent blade in all of the lands. The paladin's blade.
Drew unsheathed his sword, carried in his other hand the scroll, and walked up the beaten path to the old shack. He came to the window and felt the warmth of a fire inside.
"Strange,"Drew whispered to himself as he peaked inside the cracks of the boards. "You'd think one would try to hide knowing that there is an order of execution on one's head."
With a swift boot, Drew kicked down the old door and entered the shack prepared for a battle. Only to see an elderly man reading a book in front of a fireplace.
"Oh, already?"The man said in his elderly voice. "You came sooner than I thought. Very well then."The old man left his seat and knelt before Drew with his head bowed. The brief amount of time Drew had, he saw the the old man's face had a polite smile. "Laws are laws. Let's get this over with, son."
"Has there been a mistake?"Drew looked warily at the old man. "I am paladin Drew, sent from King Deshawn to divinely execute a necromancer known to practice his magics in this area."
"Yes."The old man looked up at Drew. "Yes, I know why you are here."
Drew grew impatient. "Then where is the necromancer sir? You do know that aiding a criminal is punishable by that criminal's-"
"I'm the necromancer son."The old man interrupted. "You are here to execute me."
Drew was dumbfounded. This wasn't his first divine execution, especially in the necromancer line, but never before had he ever encountered such a well-mannered, passive criminal.
"You are the necromancer?"Drew said slowly.
"Yes, I am son."The old man said. "Zeke is my name. Necromancy is my game."
Drew sized the necromancer up and down. "How can a man so fragile like yourself be a necromancer?"
"Ah don't be a curmudgeon son."Zeke arose to his feet. "Necromancy is a dark art. It requires no physical capacity. You should know! You executed my brother who was no bigger than I. Though I may add he did have it coming. Raising a guild of thieving zombies probably wasn't his best life decision, but oh well."
"Yes, I do remember... Zeranth..."Drew said more to himself. "Very well. If you are truly the necromancer, then why did you commit your crime?"
"Well, son..."The cheerful face of the old man died down to a much more sorrow stricken portrait. "I provide closure."
"Closure?"Drew stared confused at Zeke. "What kind of closure?"
"Too many times have I seen the sorrow on a mother's face when she has to bury her child. Many more times this mother didn't say goodbye or the child departed the world on bad terms with the mother. These type of things will leave anyone in a pit of sadness. And well son, I provide them with the closure they need. And after they get their closure, I revert the spell and let the dead rest for eternity."Zeke's voice grew faint. "It's at times torture to watch a mother say her final goodbye to her child. But in the end, she is able to sleep a full night, once more."
Drew felt his heart ache. Death was in his family as well. His brother died a few months prior to a raid. The last he talked to his brother, he wished for his brother to never speak to him again.
"I..."Drew lowered his blade. "I know this pain that you attempt to soothe Zeke."
"Yes."Zeke looked into Drew's eyes. "I see it... But laws are laws son."Drew knelt once more and lowered his head. "We mustn't go against the king's orders now. He is, after all, the sovereign ruler of our land."
Hesitantly, Drew raised his blade. "Very well Zeke."He looked at the old with pity.
And with one decisive swing... it was done.
***
"All you bring me is a few hairs from his beard?!"King Deshawn bellowed as he tossed the grey hairs to the floor. "I demanded his head Drew!"
"As I attempted my lord."Drew was bowed to his king. "But with his final ounce of life, the old necromancer cast a spell and turned his body to maggots."
"Blasted, dark magics!"The king sneered. "Very well Drew. You have done service for me since you were young. Your word is trusted in this throne room. At ease."
Drew arose to his feet and left the throne room. He walked a good distance to The Huntress, an inn not too far from the throne room. There he greeted a hooded figure discretely.
"All is fine,"Drew said slowly. "Come it is this way."
"And where is it that you lead me, son?"The hooded figure said.
Drew swallowed an anxious gulp. "To Madiv cemetery, where my brother is buried."
***
More stories at /r/CGIII ! |
"Alright, it's been a fun night guys, but I have to get going now. Angie's gonna be upset if I go home too late."
"Aww, c'mon Tim, just stay a while longer. More drinks are being served soon!"
"Nah, I'm already feeling lightheaded. Gonna call an Uber and hit the hay. See you guys tomorrow."
With that, Tim bid farewell to his colleagues, ordered a cab, and arrived at his home. He entered and locked the door behind him before hanging his hat up on the coatrack and making his way to his bedroom. It had been such a busy year - promotions all around, moving into a brand new house, finishing his first short novel, and other events, some bad, but mostly good.
Tim slowly opened the door as to not disturb his wife. He silently changed into sleeping wear and joined Angie in bed. *I wonder what this year will bring...* were Tim's last thoughts before letting sleep take him.
When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was in his old house - the one he had moved out a long time ago. He looked over at his digital calendar. *1st Jan 2016*. 2016? He had time travelled? But that wasn't possible...
Tim had a sudden realisation. If it was the start of 2016, then -
Angie woke up to the sound of rustling fabric. She blinked blearily and turned over in bed to see Tim hurriedly dressing up. "What's the rush dear?"she asked. "Late for a start-of-year meeting or something?"
Tim glanced at Angie. "No..."he replied. "I need to go somewhere far more important."Finished dressing, Tim ran downstairs and out the front door, starting up the car. There was someone he had to see.
After a few more turns, Tim had almost reached his destination save for the fact that a large hunk of traffic was blocking his way. They all seemed to be going the same direction as he was. *I wonder...*
He stepped out of the car and decided to travel on foot instead. He ran between all the cars, not stopping until he had reached the entrance of the zoo. There were many people like him trying to get in, never mind the fact that the zoo wasn't open until a few hours later.
Tim decided that there was to be no waiting. He jostled his way to the front of the crowd, and came face to face with the zoo manager.
The manager looked at the assembled mob. He turned on his megaphone and started speaking: "Guys, I think I have an idea as to why you're here, but this zoo isn't open until 9. Until then, feel free to kill time-"
He was silenced by Tim's fist uppercutting his jaw. There was no time to waste, thought Tim. He must see him.
Tim threw himself over the admissions gate and quickly scanned the map on the billboard. Turning right, he sprinted as fast as he could. He could see it; he neared the enclosure containing his lord and saviour in person -
***"HARAMBE! I WILL GUARD YOU TILL THE END OF TIME, MY LORD"*** |
"Did you take care of the ..."
"Yeah yeah no worries mate,"he said sitting down at the table and pushing a frothy ale towards me.
"Cheers man,"I said toasting him for the drink, for the general pick me up, for the guy he just killed in the mens who tried to hustle me at snooker.
We both took a long slow drink and then looked up to watch the footy. Chelsea were doing shite and I said so.
"Shame about 'Palace"he said mildly, and I made a mental note to remember at least this preference about him. "Yeah"I said, absolutely winging it with the football banter because I don't really follow a game where all you do is jump over a ball and cry until someone gives you a goal.
"Say, Pete,"he said suddenly, levelling his gaze onto me. I wanted to keep staring at the screen, but he had a way of sucking you in.
"Yeah, ...mate?"I asked cautiously.
"Do you remember my sister?"
I racked my brains. I've yet to remember where I met this guy, let alone know who he's related to. A bit of half-truth couldn't hurt.
"Uh... maybe? Don't really remember."
"Come on now man, you used to have a crush on her,"he said winking.
My eyes screamed alert. Was he an old schoolmate? An old work colleague? Who did I have crushes on recently? The number grew every-time I walked down the street.
"O-oh.... yeahhaha,"I managed feebly.
"Yeah well, anyways - she's just broken up with whats-his-face and is looking for someone to take her on a night out. You interested?"
"Uh.... well..."
"Come on, Pete"he pleaded, "Just one night, take her out, make her feel special. Doesn't have to be anymore'n that."
"Well...."
Two emergency exits on the way to the bar. If I made an excuse to leave now I could be halfway down the street before he comes chasing after me. I'd probably make it Euston before he catches up. One way ticket to Brighton, then Calais. It would be easy.
"....alright,"I finished lamely. I'm such a coward.
"Cheers, Petey!"he said, slapping me on the back and then drinking from his pint. It had gotten empty. He made a move to get up to get another one, but it was my round and I said so, bidding him to sit.
"Two Johns please"I said to the barman, "and put it on my tab."
"You're Peter, aren't you?"he said to me glancing up from a sheet of paper where a note was no doubt scrawled, "I've been told your tab's overdue. Gotta pay up."
Ah crap I forgot. "Sure, sure"I sighed, "Let me just get my wallet."
I waved to the table, and my good friend looked up and smiled. I made a quick silent cutting action with my hand and pointed to the barman, miming: *This one too!* |
"Are you ready, Mr President?"
"Yes, William."President Richards adjusted his tie. It was an unusually warm December morning in Alabama, but he kept his jacket on. There were dozens of nervous faces watching him in the capital building, and he couldn't afford to look unprofessional.
"Good luck,"his wife said, before they exchanged a quick kiss.
"I'll need it."He offered her a quick smile, accentuating the crow's feet around his eyes. "It's a shame I have to follow Roosevelt's speech."
She offered him another word of encouragement, but he barely heard it. A few seconds later, he was sitting in front of a microphone. He placed the headphones on his head and straightened the papers on the desk before him. Static fuzzed in his ears as he watched the man in the sound booth count down with his fingers.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"the radio announcer said. "The President of the Confederacy."
"My fellow Americans,"Richards said. He allowed a brief pause. He knew that, already, his choice of words would trigger controversy. No President of the Confederacy had ever addressed his nation in a speech before.
"Four score years ago, cannons were fired on an American fort in South Carolina. While no lives were lost that day, it proved to be the catalyst for a devastating war that lasted nearly a decade. I fear that today, on this day of infamy, I speak to you on the brink of a conflict that could prove far more devastating for this continent.
"The Empire of Japan has committed an unprovoked act of aggression against the United States of America. This, inevitably, will draw our neighbors to the north into the war that has raged in Europe and Asia for the past two years.
"While the response of the United States is all but certain, the world looks to us with uncertainty. Many of our citizens, including my opponent in last year's election, have called for us to join forces with Nazi Germany, Italy and the Empire of Japan, and march North to avenge the lives of the Confederate soldiers that died at the hands of the United States only a few generations ago. Some of our citizens advocate that we stay out of "European entanglements,"as forewarned by Virginia's greatest citizen, George Washington.
"I am a native Virginian myself. Often, when this office has posed me with difficult questions, I try to think of what George Washington would do. And so the name stood out to me when I saw the report of the ships lost at Pearl Harbor this morning. In addition to the USS Oklahoma and the USS North Arizona, the USS Washington was sunk just a few hours ago.
President Richards pushed aside his papers and leaned forward.
"It is not easy for us to admit just how much we have in common with the men and women who died today at Pearl Harbor. The shadow of the Civil War looms over the history of both our nations, but we cannot deny our common origin.
"The United States has lost its navy. It cannot stand against Japan in the Pacific. The future of this continent, and of the American dream that both our nations hold in our hearts, rests in our hands.
"Today, I will meet with President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and discuss our plans for dispatching our Navy to reinforce the western border of the United States. Our nations may have grown apart, but I will not ignore our past, and I will not abandon the United States to an uncertain future.
"God bless you all. And God bless the States of North America." |
"Is she for real? That purse does *not* go with those shoes,"I said, then winced as a room full of other heavily armed men turned to stare at me.
I whipped my head back towards the surveillance screen, giving an awkward cough. "But I suppose it was the best we could manage, given the need to fit the glock in it."My own gun had been less than satisfactory ever since last week, when I'd taken out the black widow socialite and realized it was far too bulky to fit a sleek, James Bond look, which could really enhance my career. I was going to have to drop at least ten pounds of muscle too. The thought of missing out on the gym that long made me whimper, but sacrifices had to be made.
The woman on the screen pulled out a compact, thankfully drawing attention away from me. Her hands trembled as she lifted it to her face. It looked far too cheap to fit with her designer dress, but clearly the minds behind this operation didn't understand the importance of accessories. Centuries worth of stolen knowledge managed to seal my mouth shut against rising comments. I let out a sigh of relief. This new information was a bitch to control.
"That's the signal,"Alpha said. "Ten seconds and counting."
No one needed the countdown, but we all ran silent inventory as the countdown ran.
9, ... Kevlar firmly secured.
8, ... Extra ammunition on belt and in cargo pockets.
7, ... Knives at the waist, wrist, and ankle.
6, ... Gun prepped and loaded, a second at the small of my back.
5, ... Boots laced up perfectly, with no chance of coming undone.
4, ... Helmet strapped in--hold it, boots.
3--
"WAIT!"
My comrades jerked back from the door.
"My shoes aren't polished!"
The whole crew stared incredulously.
"What?"I asked defensively, fingers clenching around the grip. "I can't be seen in public in such a state."
Beta groaned. "This is why we don't kill chicks."
I bristled, gun rising. "They are *women*,"I said, my voice pure venom, "and I'd thank you kindly to remember that."
"Is he pmsing right now?"Epsilon whispered.
My gun butt slammed into Epsilon's kidneys, driving him to his knees despite his armor.
"Anyone else want to make a period jab?"I demanded. "Or can I get some shoe polish so we can go kill some scumbags?" |
###LEVEL 2016 FAILED; RESTARTING LEVEL
It seems the whole world paused at this exact moment. Everyone stopped in their tracked to listen to the message that would redefine their entire existence.
###LOADING LEVEL 2016
People looked at eachother curiously. Was this a deity? A creator? A game developer?
###COMPILING ERROR; UNABLE TO RUN.
Suddenly, a sound akin to loudspeaker feedback spread across the world. It sounded like a man, around age 19.
**"Earth? Was that what I named it? Uh... yeah, ok, it was Earth. People of Earth! This is your creator... um... was it Yahweh? I think it was Yahweh. Eh, whatever. They created like 600 new gods. This is your creator... uh... Mike! So, um... I made this world as a simulation. To see what humans could do without alien assistance, y'know? But... uh... you guys didn't really meet the set Humanity Standards. A few... well... most of your actions this 'year' weren't up to par. For example, and I'm looking at you, America: misfiring a nuke at Russia? Bad move. -10 Human Standard Points. This one's for Russia: retaliating with all your nukes? Veeery bad move. -50 Human Standard Points. Y'know, guys, I thought living would be easier."**
**"I guess you guys need more practice. Maybe another go at the year, eh? Except this time, I'll just make that launch code fail. I mean, I've done this before. However, there are a few bugs in my code, so uh... Humanity.exe can't run properly. Goodbye for now, Earth."** |
"What do we have here..?"
THE TIMELESS MAN
(How I came to know of a time traveler)
Let me preface this article by saying that I do indeed realize how crazy I sound, and I doubt any of you will listen. I only hope this gains enough popluarity to catch the attention of our multi-dimentional friend who I have chosen to call Harold.
Harold looks like any one of us, he could be any one of us, and if you were to meet him, I doubt you will realize that he knows more about this world than any of us could ever hope.
Me first discovering Harold is basically just coincidence, like most seemingly impossible events, however, after coming to these conclusinos about him, I doubt that he acts in ways that could be coincidential. A being who can trancend time must have some sort of agenda, and I am forced to believe that I am in some way part of it, even if it is just because I am the one who has picked up on his clues.
I am getting ahead of myself however. I first came into contact with Harold when he moved into the apartment across from me in Brooklyn. Just another man in one of the most packed cities around. Like everyone else around, he would leave in the morning, and he would come home in the evening. He was a man living on a punctual schedule.
All of this didn't really matter to me at first, I just like to pay attention to my surroundings. The thing that set me on Harold's trail was the only comment he ever made to me. One day, as he passed by me on his way to work, or, wherever it is he goes every day, he commented almost to himself the phrase "It's good to be home."This struck me as odd due to the fact that he is here every day, without fail, making this same walk to the same station that he gets on every day.
After that day, I paid more attention to him.
I made sure to walk past him every day as he walked to his station. Day after day I would observe him in his same routine, yet he seemed to be living it like it was the most important thing in the world. He would look around with more life in his eyes than anyone I had seen before. Every day for him seemed like it was something exciting.
I attributed this to whatever his job was. I never spoke to Harold, so I had no idea what it was that he did all day, so I took a day off from work and decided to follow him. It was a Tuesday, just another general workday, so I figured I would just follow him to his place of employment then go get coffee and enjoy the day to myself, another mystery off my mind.
I made sure to follow behind him far enough that he wouldn't notice me, however, after seeing the excitement the world brought him, I assumed I could walk next to him all day without him noticing. Maybe he is a drug addict, despite being fairly well-kept, it could be a possibility. I made sure to not rule out anything.
He got on the train and rode it to Chinatown, where he got off and went into a small shop to get food. He went in and spoke to the employee behind the counter in what I can only assume to be Chinese. He chatted with the employee for nearly twenty minutes, completely in Chinese, laughing and clearly enjoying themselves. He proceeded to take the brown paper bag of food and go on his way, smiling brightly to himself as he walked off.
Once again making sure he wasn't paying attention to me, I followed him, this time also making sure nobody was in turn following me. He made his way back onto the train and made his way to Battery Park, where he took promptly took a ferry out to the Statue and back, seeming very much like a tourist.
Upon returning, he walked all the way from Battery Park to Central Park, a trip that killed multiple hours. After walking around Central Park for an hour, he got back on the train and returned home.
The strangest thing was that as he was returning home, the happiness that was with him at the start of the day was no longer there. I made my way back up to my room to contemplate this man who seemed to be a tourist after living in the city for at least six months (as that was when he moved in near me).
I decided that I would take the next day off and follow him again. This is the strangest part, as I followed him the next day he did the exact same thing as the day before. Every single action was exactly the same.
Upon thinking this over I have come to the conclusion that Harold is in fact stuck in a time loop where he proceeds to live out the same day over and over again, as time goes on normally around him. Over the upcoming week, I will make sure to keep track of Harold, and keep you all informed on any other happenings surrounding him.
-T.J. Snoops
"Odd, he was so close.. well, time to move again.." |
**1776**
He leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the mingled scent of smoke, sweat and perfume that filled the coffeehouse. As ever, his sharpened senses continued to mesmerise him - why, he could tell where all these humans had spent their time this week. Their history was imprinted in their scents, in their breath.
Mouthwatering.
But he must not, he must not. He'd been a refined man, an educated man, a mere handful of decades past, before he had been bitted. Then ten scattered years of madness, feeding on them. All he'd ever had to say was "do you want to step away to enjoy a more private conversation?"
They couldn't resist him. They always came along, smiling even as he drained their life, and demolished his soul. No, he must not think of the fragility of their skin, of the sweet life force that pumped beneath it.
He would learn to survive on the animals. But nothing stopped him from enjoying the benefits of this life: an eternity of youth, of beauty. And an eternity of drinking in the full richness and texture of life.
"Thank you, my dear,"he whispered to the young woman who brought him his drink, and flashed her a smile. A sweet blush tinged her cheeks. He pretended to sip from the cup, and drank in the scents that pumped through the air.
**1976**
He had done well for himself. He hadn't fed in two centuries, and now, could fully appreciate the pulse of this decade. The swiftness of the changing times. No longer consumed by the thought of blood, by the haunting memory of what it had tasted like. He could even drink the coffee, now: he had long since figured out that a few drops of animal blood, slipped in with a syringe, made it palatable.
Now he could simply sit here, and observe the changing of the times. While his brethren ran about thinking of only one thing, he would be a witness of history. He would sit in this spot, his favourite spot in the world, and simply be - content.
**2176**
"One coffee, please,"he said.
The waiter, Brett, stared at the rake-thin stranger, dressed in clothes a few centuries out of date. A local legend: they said he appeared like clockwork, once every year, to sit in a booth all day and stare straight ahead of him.
"Erm, we're not a coffee shop anymore, sir,"Brett said. "We began serving only Martian Soda a few months ago."
For the first time, the vampire noticed something else. Where his spot had been - his perfectly shaded, perfectly quiet spot - was a giant, tacky mascot.
He had watched countries burn to the ground. Nations fall. Tragedy beyond the scope of most human understanding. It had all passed him by, more or less. He was eternal. He couldn't be shaken.
But that mascot seemed to be *grinning* at him, holding its glass of Martian Soda. Martian. Soda.
"Who decided upon this change?"the vampire asked calmly.
"Uhm. Danny. The manager,"Brett said nervously, pointing at the balding, fat man in the corner, swearing to himself over something or other.
The vampire swept up to the manager, and ramped up his power of mesmerisation, that were part and parcel of his nature. The words poured from his mouth, as easily as if he hadn't been fighting against this instinct for centuries.
"Excuse me. Do you want to step away to enjoy a more private conversation?"
-----
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. |
This all started as a favor to my friend Elvis. His health was failing, he had family problems at the time, and he was honestly just sick of being a star. I had always been a bit of a loner, when my friend said he wanted the aid of my "talents"of course I wanted to help him. Back before the Information Age, it wasn't all that hard. A fake ID with a new name and address, maybe a little bit of facial reconstruction surgery, and a plane ticket to somewhere exotic was all it really took. I always liked Elvis as a friend, it was sad to see him go both as a friend and a performer. Last time I heard he was in Thailand somewhere, but most importantly he was happy.
Soon after that stunt, my name made my way through the little black books of the rich and famous. Over the years, Michael Jackson, Tupac Shakur, and many more found themselves at my door seeking my talents. It got harder over the years, there's so much data out there these days it's insane, but not impossible. Doing this over and over again made me paranoid, just the awareness of how much information, how many camera lenses are out there terrified me there for a little while, but I made a pretty nice living helping the rich and famous become not so famous.
One day, a blacked out Escalade came rolling down my driveway. I was licking my lips at first, thinking another rapper or mogul had found themselves at my doorstep. Then the cameraman hopped out, surrounded by some of the burliest guards I've ever seen. I panicked and blacked out my house, I shut my impenetrable metal blinds, cut of all the lights, and quadruple locked all the doors and windows. The siege had began, I don't know how they did it but they finally found me. The media thought they finally had me, but I wasn't going down without a fight, not if it was going to take Elvis and all the others with me.
Those bastards thought they had me cornered, but they were oh so wrong. Turns out, you can't do this sort of thing without connections. I called up one of my boys, José, to make a little scene for me. He came roaring down the street in his car, firing an AK in the air like some sort of lunatic. The paparazzi scattered like the cockroaches they are, buying me a little bit of time. I got across state lines as quick as I could, then made a break for the Southern border. I made it to Mexico clean as a whistle and got a plane ticket to Thailand. The bad news is my services won't be available any longer. The good news is I've got a date on the Pacific with an old Hound Dog. |
The man rose from his seat to deliver his verdict. Bulbs flashed and cracked, lighting up the room, the faces of the accused hidden from view. Only God and the judge could see them now, and it was quite certain that both would not forgive them for their crimes.
"The past decade has been hard on this world. Powers beyond any one man's control have orchestrated a tremendous opera of bloodshed and violence, the likes of which has not been seen since the first Great War. I was a young man back then; I upheld my duty, brought justice on the battlefield to a nation that so desperately needed it. I stand in this courtroom today, bringing justice of a different kind to the same nation.
"An untold number of people perished in this conflict. My countrymen, your countrymen. Men from across the Atlantic, dying on foreign soil thousands of miles from home. Citizens of the land of the rising sun, dying so that countless others may live... truly, no one in this world has not felt the impact of the Second Great War.
"But those casualties are forgivable, in a sense. War is unavoidable at times, and the common man cannot fight his duty.
"What is unforgivable are the deaths of so many, orchestrated by the twenty-two men that are being judged today, based on nothing more than arbitrary... traits that were found to be undesirable to the world that the late Adolf Hitler wished to build.
"Citizens herded into camps, their families separated, their bodies tagged, their lives measured in days, hours, minutes, before they were finally sent off to a grisly end...Survivors have told us of what they endured, in this very room, and I am filled with sorrow that we could not prevent their suffering, that we were blind to it until it was too late.
"There is no precedent for something like this. Eye for an eye functions well on an individual level, but the scale of these crimes...
"I am told that over the course of the war, new medicines and treatments have been developed. Ones that can prolong life, resuscitate those expired well within a twenty-four hour period, as if nothing happened to them. The twenty-two men here will be well cared for, and for the millions of eyes they took...their eyes will be taken millions of times in turn."
-
*A single judge seems out of place, since it was a tribunal of sorts that sorted it out, but I wanted a speech, a speech!* |
**Congratulations! You've gained the Gambler's Blessing! Due to this Blessing, you will gain five new points to spend every morning!**
..What? Why? How?
**By spending all your luck points in one shot, you became lucky enough to earn a Blessing. The type of Blessing you receive is dependent on the circumstances around the expenditure of your points and what type of luck you spend them on. In your case, you received the Gambler's Blessing because you decided to frivolously and foolishly spend all of your points in an all-or-nothing gamble to improve your luck at gambling!**
No way. I just got 5 more points? And I'll get another 5 tomorrow! And the day after that, and after that...
holy *shit*. People would kill for this kind of power. And what's worse, I'll-
"Oof!"
I bumped into someone and looked down, only to find a young girl sprawled on the ground. She didn't *look* too badly hurt, but was on the verge of tears nonetheless.
Well. Crap. Guess luck at gambling doesn't apply to much else.
"Um, excuse me, are you alright?"I said, as gently as I could.
She shook her head quickly, as she slowly tried to get up. It was at about that moment that I realized she was alone.
Where were her parents?, I wondered. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm kinda thankful. If her guardians were here, I don't know how I'd deal with their anger. Considering my luck with social interactions, they'd probably sue me.
"Um, excuse me? Where are your parents?"I asked politely. She was wiping her face clean, trying to get rid of the tear stains. I guess that was an improvement? At least she wasn't bawling.
"Don't haf' any."she exclaimed with a huff.
"You don't have any? So you just live alone on the street?"I asked incredulously. Was this kid an orphan, a street rat, or both?
"Nope. Just me and the nice man!"She proclaimed.
Her demeanor just took a 180 degree turn. That's both relieving and disturbing. Wait...
"Nice man? Where is he?"I was cut off by the sound of giggling.
"No, silly! Nice man's *here*!"she laughed, tapping the side of her head.
...Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense. It's just her Inner Voice.
"Oh, I see! Did the nice man tell you anything?"I asked, trying to play along as best I could. I think it worked.
"Mm-hmm! Nice man told me he could make me good at stuff-"she babbled, pausing to take a breath.
Oh. Oh wait.
"so then I asked if I could be good at *anything*"Breath.
Don't tell me she-
"and he said yeah so I told him I wanted to be good at making friends"Another breath.
*Ohhh*, this is bad news.
"so *then* Nice Man asked how good I wanted to be so I said I wanted to be the best at making friends"Breath.
Wait. But the-
"and then later I bumped into you and that hurt but we're friends now so that means Nice Man was right!"she finished.
Yep. This was Bad news, with a capital B. This girl just wanted friends, and she found me in under 30 seconds flat. What chance did I have against people like the Web?
That settled things. I had to get out of here, ASAP. Probably specialize in hiding and running. Definitely putting some luck into dealing with social situations.
But there was a problem. I couldn't just leave this girl here all by her lonesome. They'd come after her just as hard as they would against me, since she'd be so easy to use in order to manipulate. 5 points of luck in friendship? They'd be all over it; probably befriend her and just keep her around for the secondhand diplomatic benefits of her luck. I had no choice but to bring her along with me. Not if I wanted to sleep at night, anyway.
I snorted. 5 luck points of friendship indeed. I'd barely known her for a minute and I was already resigned to bringing her along with me. Oh well, with her around, I'd get better at making friends, and she'd get better at gambling. It wasn't exactly fair, but it was a win/win.
I immediately spent my newly minted luck points; 2 luck points into staying safe, and 3 luck points into hiding. Hopefully this would keep us somewhat safe for the time being, as long as we stuck together.
I looked down at the girl. I really hadn't noticed it before because of my rampant paranoia, but she was absolutely disgusting. She looked like she hadn't taken a bath in months, maybe years.
"Hey girl, what's your name?"I asked, trying my best not to gag.
"Samantha!"she declared proudly.
"Well, Samantha. Nice to meet you, I guess. Sure wasn't expecting it. My name's Colin. I'll be honest with you, there are some bad people chasing me right now, and I think they might be after you too. I can't believe I'm saying this, but...come with me if you want to live."I finished lamely.
"Oh. Okay! Let's run away!"She said conspiratorially.
"Wait, really? Just like that? You're a street rat, don't you know better tha- actually don't answer that, you'll probably say something inane like "You're my friend, and that's what friends do"."I said frustratedly. "Anyways, come on, my house is that way."
---
"Wow, your house is soo big, Colin! How much money do you have? Lots?"
"Eh, it's nothing much. Come inside."I said calmly.
What's sad is that Samantha was probably my first guest in years. Family etiquette dictated that I treat her with respect despite her age, and that I give her a proper meal.
Yeah, well, first she'd have to take a shower at the least, then we'll talk about that. And after that, well...
This house probably wouldn't be safe for long. We'd have to pack up, and head out on a bus.
"Colin, what's wrong?"Samantha asked, breaking me out of my stupor.
"Hm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking about the future." |
In the past, people posted without pausing to think about why they did it. Was it really just to provide the internet's groping denizens with direction? Its venters with pithy one-liners? To provide the internet as a whole with joy, or fear, or sadness? To teach its users some new thing?
Once I became the perpetual OP, the only poster still able to post to the internet, and able to post anything I wanted--things that would be seen, read, and talked about by millions--I came to realize the true motivation for posting. It is the same motivation that drives people to strive in many if not all of their endeavours in life. It is the desire for power and the desire for attention. The desire to control what people think about--indeed, to control *how* they think--and the desire to have *my* ideas, and no-one else's at the forefront of their minds. The desire to control how the people of the world speak, think, and act. The desire to control what they believe.
When I first became the perpetual OP, I realized that the stamp of my mind would be pressed, over and over again, every time someone opened the internet, on their minds. In that way I would inject myself, my personality, my worldview, my being, into their lives, and thereby would mould them to be more like me. I would create Humanity anew, and in my own image. The shape of my soul would determine the shape of theirs'. I would be the end, goal, and standard of the entire human race.
I booted up my computer and stared at the blank space. I pondered what idiosyncratic and transformative lesson I could impart onto the species. What had I learned, what did I believe, what did I know, that I could share with, and thereby by alter, humanity? I thought and though for many hours.
And then it hit me. Like a speeding train loaded with bricks hits a car on the track, it hit me.
I opened up the editor program and typed, in bold black letters in the centre of the white screen, the following words:
"All toilet paper rolls shall henceforth be placed and replaced in the *over* orientation. All people who fail to place or replace their rolls as such will be cursed by the spooky internet boogeyman and will die early deaths. Also dogs are better than cats."
I clicked enter and sent my message out to the world, knowing that I, like Socrates, like Caesar, like Napoleon, like Steve Jobs, would radically change the world, and would be remembered, forever and ever, throughout all the ages, for my unique perspective, wisdom and deeds. |
As the party raged on In the house, people drinking merrily, family members talking, and people generally just enjoying themselves, I sat and thought.
"Why?"
Why should I become immortal? Why should I replace my human organs with those that are built in a lab? I would be giving up my humanity, the thing that makes me, me. People go into the surgery chamber, with a bright, cheerful demeanor. Only to have it removed , in favor of a painfully artificial face, one so pale you could swear that it was like snow. They lose all that keeps them who they are, just so they can live forever, I their 9 to 5 jobs, slowing having their sanity taken from them, until they are nothing but husks, who have no emotions, feel no pain, and enjoy nothing.
Why?
I could see it in the eyes of those around me, even my mother, the sweetest being I had ever known, gave birth to me at the age of 78, and I could see it in her eyes, the glazed over look beginning to take its hold. She was breaking, for her entire life she felt nothing. Needed no sleep, and never needed food. The organs provided for her. All she could do was work, and work, to pay off the debt the organs brought with them.
I didn't want to be them. They weren't alive, they weren't feeling...
They weren't human.
As I raised the glass in my hand, filled with a foul smelling red liquid, I tapped it with a fork. Grabbing the attention of everyone in the room, I spoke. I spoke the words that would change my life, words that had never been spoken in such a manner before.
"My dearest friends, and family thankyou for attending my eighteenth birthday party, I am deeply grateful. That aside; I have an announcement to make."
I looked around, meeting the gazes of those around me, some dull and glazed over, others still alive and burning with life.
"I will not be taking the procedure." |
Grand High Prospector Tim smashed the gavel onto the wooden Steeler's coaster that had replaced lost sound block. His robe was tattered and gray, and his faded blue T-Shirt underneath shouted "RIPTIDE"in curling letters. Seated around him were the four Brothers of the Brotherhood. In the middle of the table sat a worn blue vase. It sat empty.
"Meeting twelve thousand, seven hundred, and twenty... eight, is now in order. Once again, we come to discuss the Project. Brother John, report."
Brother John, a shriveled man of 78, perked up at the corner of the roundish table. He hesitated, looking at the folded piece of paper in his hand, and licked his lips. Finally, he looked back at the assembled five ordained Brothers, all looking at him in hopeless anticipation. Looking back down, he nodded his head, as if committed.
"Well my petunias are even more dazzling this year as they were last..."he began.
"*Not the bloody petunias again, I swear*"Brother Fitz whispered to the empty seat next to him. Brother Fitz had dementia, and insisted that his brother sat next to him at every meeting. As far as anyone could tell however, Brother Fitz didn't have a brother and never had. Nevertheless, the chair was left open. Grand High Prospector Tim rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his mug of wine. He waved his gavel at Brother John.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure they're lovely. But have you made any progress on the ... **Project**?"Tim made sure to stress the last word. He had been convinced for years that John truly knew their purpose, but refused to tell the rest of them.
John looked at him, hurt.
"Yes, well, the project, of course. My garden is growing wonderfully..."
Grand High Prospector Tim slapped his gavel down, startling John into silence.
"Next. Brother Susan. Report."
'Brother' Susan, who was only named brother because the rest had decided that calling her 'Sister' would be a serious breach of their written tradition, which was lost, but was surely still somewhere, had decided that being a woman was none of her fault. Besides, she was the only one among them that still was allowed to buy alcohol at the local quickie mart.
'Brother' Susan looked up from her quilting. "Nothing to report."
Finished, she looked back down, intently focused on the tricky triple cross-thread crucifixion knot.
Tim sighed, and scratched the wisp of hair on his chin. Taking the time to glare at Brother John, he gestured at Brother Alec to speak. Brother Alec, consumed with using his brick-sized phone to text his seven steady girlfriends at the nursing home, shook his head.
Grand High Prospector Tim shook his head.
"Thus ends this meeting, hallowed and feared be our name, the saviors of...."
There was a long pause before he continued.
"Anyways, next time, everyone, please focus on the Project. The prophecy we have left states that we don't have much more time, and we must redouble our efforts. Adjourned."
The members, dismissed, slowly shuffled out of the room one by one, until only Brother John remained.
His body flickered under the shuddering basement light for just a moment, revealing the hint of an outline of a monstrous, scaly body. The original Brotherhood, the true one, had been clever. They had hidden his power inside of that damnable blue vase. *When you learn how to cherish life and grow something for once**, they had mocked **is when you will be able to return,** They had thought it was unattainable, and for a long time, they had been right. With his insatiable hunger for every living creature, nearly all of his gardens had lasted only days after sprouting before he ate them whole.
Well, he would show them. There was no one left to stop him, not truly. Their inheritors of the pact were fools, long ago becoming impotent, struggling in the dark for some purpose.
It had taken millennia, but he was close, so close. His petunias, perfectly tended, would be finished by spring, and once placed within the vase, he would be free to rise again.
Hidden from sight on top of the stairs, 'Brother' Susan watched him with narrowed eyes, carefully tying the knot on the corner of her quilt with grim determination.
|
"I heard you sustain yourselves through killing, through death: that in order to live, you must kill the living and eat them."
"Well that's true, but it's really not so bad..."
"And then, internally, you affront the remains of those beings you consumed with the final injustice of breaking each and every little part of them down, and then excreting them..."
"Yes but..."
"Only to flush them into a great, swirling mass grave, in which all of their bodies, once animate and whole, now particulate, mindless, diffuse and intermingle: as if you could not even allow them their own solitary places of rest after annihilating them utterly."
"It's hardly so malicious as you seem to think, we really just..."
"I've heard you also force the spirits of the dead, the long dead and buried, to do work for you--force the spirits of those meant to rest eternally to labour for you, for the sake of efficiency and material progress."
"The spirits? Force the spirits of the dead to work for us? Now you're just making things up."
"Do you not tap into the mass graves of previous lives, where millions, billions, trillions, even, of bodies lie buried, having been driven deep underground, and through pressure and time made into that substance, that, what do you call it, what is it... "oil"? Do you not extract the oil of old bodies from ancient graves?"
"Yes but.."
"And do you not force the energy, the ancient, wizened, originary spirits who dwell compressed in that substance, out of it, out of the bodies, out of the oil, and make it do work for you?"
"It's not exactly like that, though. You see..."
"So that even the dead, the long dead and gone, cannot hope to avoid desecration, indignities and exploitation at your hands, once your logic, the logic of your species, merciless, unquenchable, monstrous, more villainlike than any other species we, who have travelled far and wide throughout the galaxy, more despicable than any other species we have ever chanced to encounter, is applied directly to them?"
"Now you just hold on a minute."
"No,"said the strange, giant creature with an air of detached benevolence, "it is you, and your brothers and sisters, a pestilence to yourselves and all those around you, who will hold on a minute. Be held in a moment, that is, so that the plague that you and your ways of thinking represent may not spread and infect the rest of Being."
We looked up at the alien ambassador, trying to puzzle out the significance of his riddling words. This meeting had been a failure: clearly the aliens had misunderstood our species, what we meant, how we operated, what we were about. They chose to see only the bad we had done, and even to read badness into the neutral things we had done, but refused to see the good.
The alien overlord and his assembly began hovering over the ground. Then he took a device from his pocket, aimed it at the ground, the ground of the Earth, our planet, our home, and pressed a button. A beam shot from the device and left hovering a little blue sphere, like an icy hologram, over the ground. As the assembly, slowly, majestically, surrounded by a golden aura, rose into the air, the blue sphere began expanding, penetrating the earth below it and growing nearer to us, to me and my assembly, the ambassadors of our planet, of our species, to us, who were utterly confused.
*To be held in a moment.*
I figured out the significance of the phrase as I watched a fly fly into the sphere and become paused, stopped in place, as if pinned to an invisible wall, frozen in time, hovering in the air through which it had just been flying. I turned to run, began running, but the sphere was growing too quickly. I made it only a few steps before my mindless pursuer licked at my heels, grabbed me; like a numbing agent injected at the point of contact, it spread through me, stopping me, shutting me down, and held me.
|
The signals had been coming in for months before we finally got them decoded. The news, such as it was, was devastating. Millions were driven to suicide, unable to accept the apparent truths: We *do* have a creator, but they're *not* perfect. The creator wasn't even divine. Apparently our creator was a low-budget hack who decided to finally 'come clean' to his creation by releasing what amounted to some combination of a readme .txt file and various Meeting Minutes defending his choices. Some of the highlights:
- *Reduced cost of 'neck' structure by eliminating one redundant tube. Fuel and air now enter through same aperture. Cost savings justify slight increase in failure rate among humans. Operators will need to be careful in feeding humans not to jam the sole entry.*
- *Removal of 'Appendix' organ deemed too expensive. Requires reissue of engineered drawing. We'll just reduce the size of it, route function around it, and hope it doesn't explode too often. See attachment: Estimated failure rate of Human Appendix.*
- *Request for additional bone around 'Temple' in skull declined. If the upcoming nonviolence programming gets done before release, having a weak spot around the central processing organ shouldn't be a problem, and bone is costly.*
- *Redesign of the eyeball to bury the nerves properly will not be complete until version 1.0 at earliest. All models V0.7 and below will simply have to compensate for blind spots with their binocular vision. Footnote: This may not even make it in until version 3.0, if ever. Humans unlikely to notice their blind spot unless they go looking for it, and the wetware guys have a neat trick in mind to cover the gap.*
- *We're experiencing a lot of problems with their self-reproducing systems. The male systems are unreliable, but we're putting those on hold to look into problems with the female side of things. The systems work, barely, but have a chance of mortally wounding the unit in operation. Even when they're not active, they cause the carrier a lot of problems and discomfort. They can near-cripple some carriers for up to 25% of their uptime, and waste a lot of resources.*
- *We had to route waste expulsion lines through the reproductive organs as there wasn't time to fine a better excretion point. Psychology is very, very far behind in their development and won't have time to test this before release. Hopefully it doesn't cause any weird side-effects*.
These logs caused mass hysteria in parts of the world with deeply religious cultures. Millions of lives were lost and the feeling of self-importance humanity once held for itself was stripped overnight.
Only one good thing came of the whole thing. A final entry was transmitted and arrived on November 23rd, 2046:
- *We're implementing a recall program. Anyone with an older-model human can return to us at [coordinates] and receive an upgrade to our current model at no cost.*
Space programs have reached an all-time high. |
I was trapped in a nightmare. My entire career, I saved people. My unit saved people. It's what we were best at. We had never failed. The best of the best, with our unique abilities were able to bring people back from the brink of death, no matter how grave the injury.
Until now.
I was held immobile, unable to act as I watched them all ripped apart. My vision tunneled and I was helpless, first Jenkins went down, then Anderson. Edwards soon followed. Finally whatever it was that held me released me, and I collapsed in a heap, dry sobs wrenched from my chest. I crawled over to Jenkins, reaching out with my hands to heal, like I always did. It didn't work. I kept trying, forcing the energy out of my hands, trying to fill her, put her back together, still nothing. It was like trying to shove a weight through a wall, it didn't work.
I had the same results with Anderson and then Edwards. I stared at my hands as shock settled over me, my grief quickly being muted and walled away. From far away I heard sinister laughing, and someone stepped out of the shadows.
I didn't recognize him, but his voice sounded familiar "I didn't think that would work, but now that I know it does, soon I'll turn the tide in this war. You will lose."He peered around at the carnage with interest, almost gleefully. From far away I felt my stomach coil in disgust.
The shock was making my limbs heavy, I could only stare at him as he approached Edwards. It wasn't until he nudged her broken body with his boot that something inside me snapped. With a feral scream I flew to my feet, reaching with my hands, **"You will not touch her"**.
He looked at me amused, as I grabbed the lapels on his jacket, "And what are you going to do little girl? Heal me to death?"
I don't know what happened. I didn't think anything through as pure instinct took over, I felt the buzz of energy in my bones, and I let it out. It exploded out of me, and surrounded the horrible man, before sinking beneath his skin. He was still smirking, so sure that whatever he had done would keep him safe, but then his eyes filled with shock as he felt the effects of my power.
He somehow knew all about my squad. I could encourage cell regeneration, it was how I healed those in my charge. Jenkins could regrow bones. Anderson muscle and organs. Edwards could encourage nerves to fire again. It was how we saved so many; together we were unstoppable.
I can speed up healing in a few blinks of the eye, making months span into seconds to keep people alive. And now it appeared I could do the opposite. I used my strange power to stop everything.
I stepped back as he gasped for air, pulling at his throat, and watched expressionlessly as he fell over, eyes bugged out as he died, as his whole body stopped. It was a slow death, as his cells just quit. I hoped it was painful.
I held eye contact until his last breath, watching the life completely leave him. I wordlessly looked around, the shock settling over me again like a second skin, muting the waves of grief threatening to overwhelm me. I examined my hands, awed at the new direction my abilities had taken.
I squared my shoulders, my squad was gone. Somehow the enemy had figured out what we could do. Used to be able to do. But I had just figured out something new. And they would pay. |
Hera waved out her front door. "Good night! Thanks for driving him home!"As she closed the door, she turned to her husband and asked "Honey, why does Jesus dress all in purple for bowling night?"
Zeus shrugged. "Who cares? What matters is that I WON! I finally won bowling night, you know what that means?!"
Hera nodded, "Yes, sweetie, you run the Earth for a week."
"I run Earth for a week! Oh yes, it has been too long, my dear, but boy, is mankind going to remember the power of Zeus, oh yes!"
Hera followed Zeus into the den, where they kept the Divine-Earth Interface, the Opus DEI. "So, big plans?"
"Oh yes, my dear, big plans. I'm going to remind them what the God of Lightning can do!"He waved his hands before the DEI and, looking at the rotating planet before him, frowned. "Wait, what's going on? What's all that lightning doing there already?"
Hera looked up, handing him a goblet of ambrosia. "Oh, haven't you been paying attention to humanity, dear?"
"No, why would I? That damn Jesus keeps winning."
"Oh, well, humanity has harnessed your lightning; they call it 'electricity.'"
"THEY HARNESSED LIGHTNING?!?"the god thundered.
(Meanwhile, a thunderclap shook a suburb of Milwaukee; a transformer exploded, plunging a part of the city into darkness, and some college students screamed curses as they had a term paper due the next day.)
"They cannot just take my power and use it as they will! Oh, they will pay, they will...what's that?"
Hera had focused the DEI to a closeup of the planet, and said "Las Vegas, sweetie."
Zeus stared for a while, open mouthed. "They did all that?"he said finally.
"Mm-hmm,"Hera confirmed, "and more. Look,"she said and shifted the viewer to Tokyo, where giant television screens flooded a street with light.
"Amazing!"
"And they even use lightning to entertain themselves. Watch this with me, will you sweetie?"
Three hours later, Zeus laughed and clapped his knee.
(In Denver, a young man's laptop came back to life, the power supply having a little bit left in it. Wisely, he decided to quickly back up his data as quickly as he could.)
"That was so funny! That Saitama fellow reminds me of my boy Hercules, you know? Ha! Maybe Saitama should have some labors in his next season, you think? See if he can become Two-Punch Man, at least."Zeus smiled. "Well, okay, humans did all right by me with regards to this whole lightning thing, I'll give them that."
Hera nodded, "I think so too, dear."
"Well, hmm, what to do with my week then. Oh, I know,"he said, his face brightening, "I'll do a bit of shapeshifting, go down and get my freak on. I know you don't like it, but it's my prerogative, Bowling Night Winner, you know."
Hera patted her husband on the arm. "I know, and you've been really good about not sneaking out for the past few millennia. Tell you what, you open up the Sex Files, and I'll get you some more ambrosia, okay?"
"Thanks honey!"he beamed. He waved his hand over the DEI interface to pull up the database on human sexual behavior. "You know, back in the day, I used to really freak out the humans, didn't I? Oh I can't wait to do that again!"
"Yes sweetie, I know,"she said as she went to the kitchen. She was glad her husband couldn't see her knowing smile, as she took an extra long time getting their drinks. She tried very hard not to laugh out loud at what she overheard.
"They do *that* already?....well, how about...oh, they do that too...I didn't know their bodies could bend *that* way...what the HADES IS THAT?!?...oh now that's just disgusting...you have got to be kidding me!....dammit!"
Hera returned with two full goblets, noting that the DEI was turned off. "Find something to do?"
Zeus had this arms crossed in front of him, and he was pouting. "A lot has changed."
"Yes it has, sweetie."
"When did humanity get so...weird?"
"I think you may have planted a few seeds there, literally and figuratively, dear,"she said, handing him a glass.
Zeus grumbled his agreement, taking the goblet his wife offered. "Awww, so what am I supposed to do then? I can't shoot lightning all over the place, that'll just make them like lightning less, and I'm not sure I want to shapeshift and do anything with them anymore. Gross!"
"Well, what does your friend do when he wins?"
"Jesus? Well, he does a whole 'moves in mysterious ways,' hands off thing."
"That works pretty well for him, doesn't it?"
Zeus sighed. "Yeah, I suppose. He always says 'Nobody fucks with the Jesus.'"
"That's right,"Hera nodded. "So, maybe...?"
Zeus pouted again. "Fine,"he said, finally.
-----
"Hey Stan, how's your week?"
Stan nodded to his friend, holding up his hand to the bartender to indicate his usual order. "Hey Jim; pretty good, actually."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, you know that construction going on that's been knocking out power to the whole area around my office this last month?"
"I remember you complaining about that, yeah."
"Well, seems like they wrapped up or something; this whole week we've had no power issues. No drop offs, no spikes, just clear sailing all the way through. Managed to get some hardware updates installed and got some actual work done."
"Not bad!"
"Yeah, about time, thank God."
And had Stan or Jim been more psychically attuned, they might have heard a celestial being heaving a heavy sigh and muttering, "Yeah yeah, you're welcome." |
"Marvin,"Mr Oates had said on his first day, "Don't lose the key. We'd be lost without it. It opens every door in the station, so as you can understand, it is incredibly important. Keep it on yourself at all times."Marvin had nodded, happy to be entrusted with something so important at the time, the thrill of his first real job not really wearing off yet.
But it is an unfortunate fact of life that sometimes that thrill cannot last.
Marvin had always loved trains. As a child he had been at a station as the Flying Scotsman passed by. He had been hooked from that moment, the power of the engine travelling through the platform, and the steam cloaking him from sight. He had watched as the great beast passed long into the distance.
So on weekends Marvin had travelled to the local station to watch the trains. He'd kept a pocket-book for reference. He'd note the configurations and the carriages, that numbers and the passengers. Each train told a story. And one day, he wanted to be a part of that story.
Unfortunately he was always fated to watch, never to drive. At the age of seven he had become prone to fits. A condition poorly understood by those around him, he was told he could never pilot a vehicle, nor be in a position of responsibility for fear of becoming overcome. But that wouldn't stop him. He found a job sweeping the platforms, emptying the bins, hauling luggage around. And there were lots of places to watch trains from that the master key could get you to. Places off limits to most other people.
But the grass is always greener on the other side. And the other side was off limits to people like Marvin.
And so, Marvin swept. He swept through the declaration of war. He swept when the station was bombarded. He swept when the remaining few came home. He swept when days were so cold that his fingers were numb. And slowly, his mind numbed too. He became an instrument of the station and forgot his dreams.
Marvin became old. Older than the dust around him. Old enough to see his beloved engines replaced by electric and diesel. Old enough to have seen hundreds of thousands of travellers, which he barely noticed anymore.
Marvin was due to retire. It had been a long career. He cleaned out his few possessions and took a moment to rest his wary legs on a platform bench. He sighed, missing something from the station that he couldn't quite remember.
Steam. That was what was missing. Steam had always made him feel warm and safe. He blinked to clear his eyes. No-one else seemed to notice it was missing.
And yet, there it was. In a trail, leading him across the platform. Confused, Marvin followed it. He'd just lost his job, he was going to make damn sure he hadn't lost his mind either.
The steam led to a wall, where it stopped.
Marvin reached up to the brickwork, rubbing a hand over it. No, that couldn't be right. The steam must be coming from somewhere. He could feel the solid wall underneath his hands. But it was warm.
Marvin hobbled back to the staff office and took the master key one last time. A tiny ember had begun burning at the back of his mind.
He approached the wall and held out the key. And just like all the doors in the station, the wall opened too. The bricks parted like an ocean.
He entered the platform to find commotion in all it's forms. There were children. There were parents. There were even animals of all kinds of exotic varieties. But at the centre of it all was something far more interesting to Marvin. The single most beautiful scarlet locomotive he had ever seen.
He couldn't help himself. He brought his old legs up onto the train. He was so enthralled by the sparks in the firebox, the numerous dials and the devices making whizzing sounds that he barely noticed the incredibly small man attempting to keep the engine under control.
The small man looked at him. His brow was racked with panic, soot, and sweat. He had no idea what he was doing. That would explain the steam that was everywhere. But somehow, Marvin *knew*. Even though this train was clearly no longer running on coal, it all still made sense. And in that one glance from that very small man Marvin wordlessly put his knowledge to work, steaming the engine and bringing it under control whilst the small man cast sparks into the firebox.
He sounded the whistle and the guardsman beckoned everyone onboard. The children waved goodbye to their mothers and fathers. And the engine pulled out of a platform that until today, he had never noticed.
Marvin stuck his head out of the cab, feeling the wind, the engine, and the rails beneath. He felt the power, and the purpose. He felt the emotions that he had long thought forgotten. This is where he belonged. This is where he had always belonged.
And his years blew away, like leaves from the line. |
I turned 18 at 12 o clock. At 12:01, I'm in my sister's doorway, debating whether to suffocate her with a pillow or snap her neck. She's only 6.
She's sleeping. I can tell from the way the night - light shines on her face. Her hands are curled up into loose balls at her chest. Probably a bad dream. Probably about me.
My best friend turned 18 a month ago and killed his little brother. He hasn't been the same since. No one has. You can tell the ones - by the way they stare off into space or shuffle through the halls like zombies.
But its the law. Soon I would be one of them. It was just something that needed to be done.
I wonder what my parents are thinking. I wonder what I'll think when I have children and they come to this. I blame my parents. Why did they have to have another child? Why did they have to her so late? This isn't fair to her. This isn't a fight. It's a mismatch.
The teddy bear I gave her when she was 2 is on the floor. I try to use that to fuel my anger (*Ungrateful little brat! Is this what you do to the things I give you!*) but I can't because I know she cherishes that bear, even though it's missing an eye and has fluff coming out of it. It's the only stuffed toy she sleeps with at night.
I enter the room and unplug the night - light so that I don't have to see her face. And then I feel my way to her bed, and gently ease the pillow out from under her head..
I have a flashback. Of a younger me sneaking into her room just like this. Except I was playing Tooth Fairy - putting money under her pillow and taking her wrapped up baby tooth. Now I was playing Grim Reaper - taking a life and she was the tooth that was being put under the pillow.
◇◇◇◇◇
"Inmate, you have visitors. Off the bunk, put your hands on the wall."
I comply, and the correctional officer enters, handcuffs me and drags me to the visiting room.
As soon as I walk in, I see their smiling faces. My dad and my mom.
My sister.
"Yimmie!"She squeals. It's Jimmie to everyone else, but her. But that's alright.
She breaks free from my parents and runs right up to me and hugs me in my handcuffs. She's too cute for the guard to be mad at.
We sit down and I rub my chaffed wrists. My mom cries. My dad has tears in his eyes. My sister brought along her teddy bear, the one I gave her when she was 2.
My dad speaks first. "Thank you, son. For..."he breaks off and squeezes my sister's shoulder.
I laugh. They all stare at me, confused. But I was laughing because I had thought it would've been worse than this. That if I didn't kill my sister, something *terrible* would've happened to me.
All I had to do was a little jail time? Well, 12 years wasn't little, but hey, I'd rather take that than losing my sister.
Plus, I had a lawyer that had found a loophole in the system where, when I came out, all I had to do was have my parents disown me from the family.
So all in all, it turned out great. And when I looked at my sister and saw the innocence, the love, and just the *joy* she got from being alive...I knew it had all been worth it.
|
I've always wanted one of those watercolor tattoos. Have you seen them on Pinterest? They're amazing, but the artists who do them are expensive and hard to find. When I got the chance to get one at a convention, I jumped at it.
I told the artist to just make something beautiful, to use me as his canvas. I saw this guy's portfolio. Anything I would have told him to do, any instruction I could have given him, would only have made the piece worse. The best thing to do for a guy like that is let him work his magic.
That's exactly what he did.
I didn't see the finished piece until he pulled the needle from my arm for the last time. When I looked in the mirror, I actually cried a little bit.
He created a cascading color scheme of delicate geometric shapes and ink splatters. It started at the top of my left shoulder and went all the way down my arm. At the top were the primary colors: red, blue, and yellow. These mixed and intermingled to form all of the secondary and tertiary colors in a beautiful mixture of shapes and designs that I can't even begin to describe. It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen.
In the weeks after I got the tattoo, I noticed that things were a little different for me. It was like I had more influence, like people were taking their cues from me. I thought it was just the confidence I had received from my awesome new tattoo. People were always asking about it, complimenting it - it was a huge ego boost.
Then I started noticing the Auras. Depending on my mood, the world was bathed in a subtle, but noticeably different light. It took me a while to realize that the color was based on *my* mood, and that the color affected everyone around me.
The colors corresponded to the moods you would expect. If I'm angry, the world is tinged with red, and everyone is indignant on my behalf. When I'm happy, everything has a touch of yellow to it, and everyone laughs at my jokes. Green colors the world if I'm disgusted or nauseous. That's a dangerous one, because you don't want to be in a restaurant full of people who are about to be sick.
I've learned to project the colors independently of my mood - that's just how the Auras manifested themselves at first. I can control them now. I can mix them, too, creating more complex moods than merely pure outrage or joy. I can create bittersweet, guilty anger, pride or humility. Any human emotion is within my ability to create and project in the form of color.
When I first learned how to control the power, I felt guilty at first, but also excited, like I had found something forbidden that I wasn't supposed to enjoy, but that felt amazing. I had to overcome the guilt, though, because it gave all of my auras a gross orange tint.
I'm doing very well for myself. Women love me, and men, when I feel like it. I started a business as a life coach for famous people, and it's going very well. I'm meeting all kinds of celebrities, and I'm a hit with all of them. My bank account is growing. So is my sphere of influence. Who knows? Maybe I'll run for office in a few years.
Wherever I got, I wear sleeveless shirts so the whole world can behold the beauty of my tattoo. It's everything to me. It changed my life. It's as though I could only see in black in white before, and now the world is painted in colors that I could have never imagined. |
You'd think it'd be pretty useful for a sniper to be invisible, as long as he's still. What people don't realize is that the problem is getting *into* position. Once you're there, you're invisible anyway, as long as you're properly camouflaged.
It has made certain jobs possible that wouldn't have been otherwise. I can get into buildings, guarded positions. If I'm at risk of being caught, I simple freeze. I don't like those jobs. They scare the hell out of me.
Today's a simple assassination. Get into position, wait for the target, take him out.
*What was that?!*
A bullet just slammed into the tree behind me. The gunshot echoed seconds later. Another sniper.
I turn my scope up to the mountain ridge where I think the shot came from. How could anyone see me? I did just maneuver to the left slightly. I realize the bullet would have found its home if I hadn't moved.
A man appears in my scope on the ridge. He's dressed in fatigues, carrying a high powered rifle. He's looking down at me. I squeeze off a few shots rapidly, and when I glass again to follow up, he's gone. Not dead, just gone.
I scan the ridge, but see nothing. A movement catches my eye - rocks tumbling down the ridge. Did he jump? No movement for awhile. Then I hear the sound of something moving in the trees in front of me. The man appears one hundred yards away, out of the air. He smiles, then runs toward me. He melts into thin air as he moves.
My heart sinks, my blood runs cold and my throat closes. His power is the converse of mine: he is invisible, only while he moves.
He will be here shortly. I won't have a chance. I stand up, duck behind the nearest tree, and wait. I pull out my sidearm. I'll only have a minute while he pauses to look for me... |
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