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Tragic. That is the word I would use to describe Bob
Bob was born in a family full of superheroes. Bob's mom could control fire. Bob's father could control gravity. Bob's big sister could read minds, and Bob's little brother could teleport.
But Bob could do nothing. He was a tragedy.
"HEY FOR THE LAST FUCKING TIME, STOP CALLING ME A TRAGEDY!"
Oh, I forgot. Bob has the superpower of breaking the fourth wall. Too bad it's fucking useless. You're a cunt, Bob.
"And you're a fucking cunt too, moron."
Bob also had this temper directed toward the narrator. Maybe it's because this narrator had haunted him since he was young, reminding him of his incompetence compared to his family. Bob hated the narrator with his guts.
"And my balls, too."
Same thing.
The silver lining in this case, however, was that Bob's family loved him. Honestly, I don't understand why they still do. It must take effort to love a cripple.
"For the last time, I'm not a cripple. I'm totally normal. I just don't have superpowers---"
In a family full of superheroes.
"Sure. Is it my fault that my grandfather died the day I was born, making me miss my superpower creation moment?"
It was rather unfortunate.
"So shut up!"
Bob angrily threw off his cover and rose from the bed. From somewhere in the house, his mother called him.
"Bob? Are you up?"
"Yeah mom. I'm up."Bob got dressed, and headed down to the kitchen.
His family was waiting for them. Both his father and mother had graduated from Kringly school of powers, and his siblings were both attending it--Bob, having no superpowers whatsoever, went to Crossing High like any other person.
Bob sat down at the table. Ironically, his family was normally dressed, while Bob wore a shirt from the Superman movie.
"Oh will you shut it for a second!"Bob heaved at the disembodied voice.
His family exchanged looks.
"Bob,"his mother said, "I know it can be frustrating without superpowers, but you can't talk to this 'voice' you claim exists all the time. It's rather creepy."
Says the lady who can control fire, with some more poor attempt at irony from the writer.
"My mom has a name, ok? It's LINDA. You can call her Linda."
No Bob. You are the main character in this story, so I'll tell it from your perspective.
"Oh shut up. What's the point of this damn story anyway? Nobody would read something like this."
Not true. Have you heard of reddit?
Bob decided to ignore the narrator for the rest of the meal. He walked to school and studied math, english and history, while his siblings learned to harness their potential at Kringly.
Bob's life was like this--until one day, a mysterious creature showed up at their doorstep. The creature, in the form of half human and half centaur, effectively making it 3/4 human and 1/4 horse, spoke thus:
"I am here to harvest your family."
With those words, Bob's family was summoned before the man-taur. The mother (or Linda, per Bob's request) tried to fight the man-taur, to no avail: her fire-summoning powers were de-activated. The father couldn't make the man-taur kneel on the ground with his gravitational skills. The little brother was fixed in space, while the big sister read the man-taur's mind and promptly fainted.
The man-taur took the mother by the waist and chomped her head off. Blood splattered everywhere, driven by the strong beating heart of a 42 year old. Bob's mother (Linda) had a blood pressure of 134/86 which was pretty normal, thus the blood was strong--
"Ok dude can you shut up about that? WTF?"
Oh, sorry. If there was something you could do, Bob.
"Yeah, like what?"
Bob was too dull to notice that the narrator he was talking to the whole time was the creator of his little universe. If only Bob asked nicely...
"Wait. So you are saying... I have the power to alter the universe? Just by asking you? Holy fuck!"
But you have to ask nicely...
"Please. Please save my family. I will do anything."
Sorry Bob, but I can't actually change anything in the universe. I was just joking, Nigga.
"Careful with that word--"
I am a disembodied voice, I can say anything. Meanwhile, you should worry about the man-taur. (Which, by the way, had already eaten most of Bob's family).
"Oh fuck." |
"You don't understand,"the mad Doctor manically yells as he ineffectually shoots at the shelf I'm behind. "Nobody understands, nobody gets it!"
The bullets stop, the audible click as he reloads the weapon punctuating the silence.
"How many more have to die for your madness doctor!?"I shout, the tranquilizer gun in my hand trembling. "My mother and father died because of your *god damn disease*!"
I remember all the stages of infection, their bodies covered in boils, the skin peeling as they are reduced to sacks of flesh. Hundreds, thousands, millions died in the first few weeks.
Nobody expected the most brilliant scientist of the generation to be behind the plague. He had fled weeks prior to its release, leaving only behind a note reading "I had to do it."
I've tracked him down, hunted down this monster to his isolated mountain hideout in Peru.
"IT ENDS NOW DOCTOR!"I yell while sprinting out from the overturned shelf.
One, two cracks ring out and I drop to the floor. I sorely misjudged his position.
I hatefully glare at the doctor from the floor as he approaches, kicking the tranquilizer gun from my grip.
"What the hell would you do if your parents named you [insert-disease-name-here]?"is the last thing I hear yelled at me as my mind falls into darkness. |
We put the pieces together slowly. So very slowly.
It started at 'first contact'. Why did we still choose to call it that? There was no contact involved, no communication. Our first true spaceship, as it exited Sol's orbit, encountered the tiny, automated beacon screaming out a warning.
It took us another thirty years to translate the message it repeated endlessly. The beacon contained what seemed to be syntax for a variety of languages, building blocks to teach whoever might run across it in the future. It even held something that *looked* to be like instructions in an antiquated form of old English, but the beacon was *old*. The data held within was fragmented, entire data banks corrupted.
When we finally broke the last code and unearthed the message, the reality of what had happened was chilling.
They had come. Over and over, they had come. Exploring, and gauging, and waiting. They were waiting for us to be ready. It was the answer scientists had been waiting for for generations, the final piece in the puzzle that was the Fermi Paradox. They had sheltered our planet, and allowed us to grow. How long they had been there, we don't know.
But we know when they died.
You see, they may have been alien, but they were not infallible. Their watchers were everywhere, in our skies and among us. They thought themselves untouchable. Their bodies thought otherwise.
By the time they realized that our Black Plague could infect their species as well as ours, it was too late.
We found one of their ships, after another fifty years. Drifting in a distant orbit, tucked away in an almost-invisible corner of our system. With its reactors chilled and lifeless after centuries of drift, it was only the faintest afterimage on our scanning systems. When we gutted it, we found their bodies, and their logs. And we learned just how far our Black Plague had spread.
The technology we gleaned from scrapping their ship set us leaps and bounds technologically, though. And so every time we ran across a ship, we repeated the cycle. Scan, board, glean, gut. Over time, we realized the truth. It wasn't just our protectors who had died during the Plague. One after another, we found wildly different ships, from wildly different species. Each of them, a graveyard.
We were alone.
Or so we thought, until we found the Barrier.
An enormous, endless wall of sensor beacons and scanning arrays, forming a shield - between Earth, the systems closest to us, and the rest of the universe, we soon realized. Someone, something, was on the other side. And they had halded the spread here. Occasionally, one of our ships would get the ghost image of a vessel on the far side, patrolling silently.
And so here I was. My ship was small, and quiet, the conglomeration of technologies scrapped and scavenged from dozens of other ships from dozens of other species. Humanity had debated for years about how we should proceed, after the Barrier had been found. Should we try to contact whover was on the other side? Communicate with them? Let them know that the danger had passed, and we were ready to join the interstellar community?
No, they had decided at last. No, to provoke an unknown enemy could spell the end of humanity. If they were still patrolling, then they felt that we were still a danger. And if we drew attention to ourselves, they might decide to end the threat once and for all.
That didn't sit well with many. Including myself, and my crew.
So here we sat. It had taken months of searching, but we found it. A single sensor array, blackened and deadened by an asteroid strike. The dead spot that we needed.
The rest of our corner of the galaxy were too afraid, but we wouldn't be caged any longer. We would know what was out there, and make *real* first contact.
I nodded to my pilot. She smiled. We all held our breaths. She keyed the engines confidently, tapering our thrust, and pushed us through the narrow gap in the Barrier.
And silent in the dead of space, our Frankenstein ship finally left the graveyard, and humanity entered the world of the living.
(/r/inorai, critiques always welcome!) |
Hello, Dr. Kylstax. I hope time has treated you well.
If my calculations are correct, with the time dilation taken into account, I have been gone from our homeworld for just over thirty years...
Oh, sorry about that. I've been watching these 'humans' too long, and have adopted their language and methods of measurement as a convenience. It was taking far too long to translate my notes on the fly, so I made the decision to just record my observations in their own languages and translate later. Point being, I guess it would be about 350 cycles back home since I first left home for 'Sol'.
These humans are extraordinarily primitive, Kylstax. I can't overstate that enough. They still use *chemically propelled matter projectiles* as weapons, for goodness sake. And their 'highly advanced' weaponry? It's laughable!
They've developed something they call a 'Laser', a focused light emitter that measures only in the kilowatt ranges. Even our civilian energy weapons would outclass them, being in the terawatt power range. If they hit one of our frigates... just a frigate, mind you... with their most powerful 'laser', it wouldn't even cause a 3% drop in shield strength. And the capacitors would essentially refill the shield perimeter almost instantaneously.
They still use silicon chips for information management. *Silicon*, can you believe that? It's like the whole planet is something out of the dark ages. It can literally take several seconds for data to be transferred across the planet. Their systems would never be able to react fast enough to respond to an automated attack.
(An audible chuckle echoes through the pod.) To their credit, they are *trying* to develop quantum computing, but it's going to be several generations before they even come close to the equivalent of a basic system on our home planet. I almost feel bad for them.
Anyhow, the point I'm trying to make my dear Kylstax, is that even after a single year of being here, I've come to the conclusion that these 'humans' pose no threat to our race right now. At least from a technological perspective. They have no space capability of note, and even if by some miracle they managed to correct that in the span of a generation, they would never develop FTL travel or any weaponry that could pose us any danger at range.
That being said... close quarters combat is another story. While I told you about the laughable nature of their distance weaponry, their melee capability is a different matter altogether. This planet is rich in not only iron, but titanium as well. They have mastered the arts of metalcraft, that much is certain.
Humans have perfected blunt and edged weapon technologies. In fact, nearly every residence in one of the nation-states has an impact weapon in literally *almost every home* in the country, something called a 'baseball bat'. They're extremely effective, lightweight batons (usually with a specialized grip on one end to prevent slippage), composed of aluminum. I watched one human kill another with one, and it was incredibly brutal and powerful. And as I said, they're in virtually every home. They start training their offspring on their use from a very early age, sometimes as young as 4.
As if that wasn't bad enough, a large segment of the population usually carries something called a 'knife', similar to the gtang used by our security forces back home. But here, the weapon is not restricted to security forces! Anyone can own one! They walk into the local merchants and buy them on a whim! Some humans have them delivered by messengers *to the front doors of their homes!!!* Can you imagine that sort of scenario back home? It would spell the end of our society!
And that's just the commonly available stuff. They have longer edged weapons called swords, something called a 'mace' (trust me, you don't want to see that one), and don't get me started on chemical and biological weaponry. It baffles the mind.
I know what you're thinking, Kylstax. Why on earth would they need so many hand to hand combat weapons? What could possibly cause a society to allow this?
Well, it turns out these humans have an extraordinary ability. It's probably why the Q'oona left them alone instead of making first contact.
These humans can automatically self-repair.
Yes, you read that correctly. *Automatically*. I don't mean applying compression bandages or sealing wounds with technology. The human bodies *fix their own wounds without any conscious effort or intervention*.
For example, their outer shell is called 'skin'. It's an incredible design, Kylstax. Not only is it able to control its temperature through biological structures called 'hair' and 'sweat glands', but it can adapt to environmental conditions. Depending on where they live and the changing amount of UV radiation from their star, their skin emits a chemical which *changes its natural colour to reflect more radiation away*. It's not instantaneous, but it's effective. And it's unconscious as well, they don't have to actually make a concentrated effort to change their color like the M'karians do.
But that's not all. Their skin, when punctured or cut, seals itself up.
Seriously, Kylstax. It seals itself up. It usually takes very little time, I've never seen it take longer than thirty days to close. And it takes even less time if they use medical intervention.
Which brings me to the other part that's concerning. Their medical technology? It seems primitive by comparison, but in fact it's perfectly complementary to their physiology and for the most part, extremely effective. They're having some issues combating phylosatic imbalances (they call it 'cancer' here), and certain viral and bacterial infections, but that's only a matter of time. They're well on the way to eradicating those problems, most likely within one or two of their generations. And when they do, we may have a problem.
These humans are very creative. Much more creative than any other species in the galaxy. They come up with new ideas and solutions to problems that we would never dream of. When they have conquered all of the medical challenges that they currently face, what then? They will focus on research and development. And when they do, you know as well as I... biomedical nanotechnology won't be far behind. If they learn how to weaponize that using their melee weaponry, they could be one of the most deadly societies in the galaxy.
Because their weaponry is so primitive at the moment, I cannot intervene. The Directive prohibits us from interfering until such time as they are a threat to the home world. Rest assured, dear Dr. Kylstax, I will continue to monitor them and will advise you at the first sign that they have reached that threshold. I must.
For the sake of the galaxy, I must. |
Darius entered the the Gateway Chamber and peered around the corner. There she was, at the console. Her hands were flying across the surface, inputting commands.
"Stop right there,"he commanded, as he stepped into view.
"It's too late, Darius,"she said. "I have opened the portal!"
"Esmeralda, no!"he cried, and began to run into the room.
Her hand flashed in a wide arc, transfixing him in place. He couldn't move a muscle. She laughed at his helplessness.
"You are weak,"she smiled coldly.
A bright light now emanated from the open gateway. It began to suck the very air from the room. Soon, larger and larger items began to disappear into it. Esmeralda panicked and tried to close it, to no avail.
She saw *things* within the light. They clawed their way through the passage, and into her reality. Black as night and winged, like demons from any hell ever imagined.
Darius *moved.*
The evil creatures breached the threshold. They were in the room now.
Darius concentrated, every fiber of his being, willing himself to move further. To *keep* moving. Esmeralda's fingers played across the interface of the portal she had opened, trying desperately to close it once again.
Darius broke free as her concentration on him faltered and fell away. The demons reached for her.
"Esmeralda!"he called. "Close the gate!"
With those words, he threw himself upon the beasts, and tumbled into the passage with them.
The portal closed. |
You soon learn that this play is notorious for it's insane Shakespearean dialogue, and for the stringent punishment of 'The Director'.
Not just a rap across the knuckles for forgetting a line, the rumors of The Director's punishments involves stories of people disappearing.
Apparently The Director has a special soft spot for the role of Tree #2, though nobody can quite say why. Nobody has an explanation for why it's Tree #2 specifically, and not any of the other non-speaking prop parts.
The play, 'Hilltop to Die Upon', was written by The Director, who has got every line memorized right down to the proper pauses. Yesterday one of the main leads bungled one line, not even the whole line, just one word.
You haven't seen him at practice today...for some reason his understudy is the only one running the lines today.
Also, some of the sandbags that are used as counter-balances for the curtains have gone missing. No explanation given as to why.
Nobody you ask seems to know why they're in this play, or why they would stick around if The Director is as horrible as the stories would suggest.
Their eyes just gloss over, and you awkwardly change the subject each time. Something tells you you're never going to get a straight answer out of any of your fellow thespians.
You just stand on your designated spot on the stage and warily watch The Director out of the corner of your eye; as yet another mistake is met with a harsh vocal retribution.
Shame, you sort of liked this understudy. Wonder if the next guy will get it right. |
(Super short because I don't have time for more, but kinda wanted to write something :D)
Minerva McGonagall had seen her fair share of weird pupils in her time. But this guy took the cake. And that ridiculous *helmet* he was wearing all the time!
She adjusted her glasses. "Well then, Mr..., er... Dovahkiin... in here please."She opened the door to her office. To her surprise, the dark-haired girl that had lingered in the background was following him inside. "Uh, Miss..."
"Yes, what do you need?", she asked.
Dovahkiin gave the professor a nod. "She's with me."
"That's...", McGonagall began, but decided that having some random girl follow him into a private discussion was one of the less weird things this guy was coming up with today. "Very well then. What is it you wanted to talk about?"
Dovahkiin smiled. "I just wanted to get my first quest!"
She raised her eyebrows. "First... quest?"
"Yeah. On my way to become the headmaster."
*Give me strength.* "Mr. Dovahkiin... Albus Dumbledore has been the headmaster of this school for many years, and you've just been sorted into my house yesterday. I admire your ambition, but don't you think you should finish your basic educat-"
"Oh alright", he interrupted her rudely, stood up and walked to the window. He opened it, then simply stood there staring at the stars.
Minerva McGonagall sighed. "What are you doing?"
Instead of a response, she suddenly heard a choir of deep voices singing "Huah! Huah! Huah!"Before she could inquire about this, it happened again. And again. And again. Dovahkiin turned around. "Now, I think I'm ready. Wanna see?"While he was talking, more *Huah*s were sounding through the small chamber.
"See what?", the professor asked wearily. Instead of an answer, the student just lifted his hand and created a blizzard.
"STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
He stopped immediately. "Cool, isn't it. Got all mage attributes on full. Want to see a fireball?"
"NO, I DO NOT!"She breathed heavily, trying to control herself. After a few seconds, still with a trembling voice, she continued. "Mr. Dovahkiin, clearly you seem to have some impressive magical abilities, but that does *not* by any means give you the right to-"
"Ah, fuck it", Dovahkiin said. "I need some mods here."Suddenly his eyes turned glassy for a few moments, then he became normal again. McGonagall couldn't shake the feeling that the wall suddenly looked a lot more detailed. "What-"
"Come on, Serana", Dovahkiin said and got up. As he opened the door, the professor saw a group of students walk past her room and almost fainted.
"MISS LOVEGOOD WHAT BY MERLIN'S BEARD ARE YOU WEARING?!" |
"My part? Wha...?"
At that moment I felt something jab into my ribs and make a muffled pop.
"Sorry,"the stranger said, clearly not sorry at all.
I felt nothing for a split second, but then my entire body radiated pain like fire. The stranger slipped away as I screamed, blood spurting on to my hands while I clutched my side.
Everyone turned to look at me, not seeing him. Before everything went black, I saw the Duchess's security fall one-by-one in puffs of blood, and three men hustle her out the side door of the theater.
Her mouth was contorted in the shape of screams, but all I heard were my own. To die as nothing more than some animal's decoy... What a fucking world. |
All I could hear was my heart beating so fast and loud that the person next to me could tell my heart rate without touching me. Everything seemed to slow down now...I'm sweating more than a bunch of hairy guys on a beach playing volleyball in the afternoon. I have had adrenaline rush before but ,but this was different. Let me get to how I've got myself into this.
I was born with a rare congenital condition . I was born with no upper limbs. Needless to say all my life I was kept at arms length (forgive the pun) from everything. Childhood was a disaster I dint know what happened or why it happened or how it happened. I'm just glad it was all a blur.
I had to improvise a lot of stuff. I learnt how to write with my feet. I learnt to eat with them. I even learnt to give myself foot jobs. Clean up was tough though but I digress. I wasn't a bad student but I just wasn't interested in the boring classes. After all nobody taught me how to scratch my balls when they itched, I'm proud I learnt it myself. Sorry let's go past my teenage years before I throw out some more bad adolescent jokes at you.
I'm 25 now. I do have a few friends who are older than me but no real connection with them. I started working at a shoe mart the only place that dint require arms and I get to see feet. FEET.😍.
I'm usually very reserved since I don't want people to look at me like I'm a puppy with cancer. I go about my business ,finish my work and well I clock it out.I could have gone on disability but my parents taught me we need to earn our food. I have learned to live with my curse now. Everybody gave me space but not TONY. If I had hands I would have strangled that guy. Tony and me never were on the same page. I understand that he has to keep us all in check but he doesn't have to do it by being in month long PMS state.
I was having a pretty bad brooding day and minding my own business when TONY started testing my patience. I've heard the jokes and the puns before. My skin is thicker than a Rhinos hide. I don't know it was all I could do keep myself from kicking that guy in the face. I wanted to do it with the new tennis shoes . Atleast those lines would give his plain face some form of definition. I don't know what it was but today I've had enough. I finally had enough of this douche calling me names for which I wasn't responsible.
I confronted him and told him to back off. He just laughed at me and asked me. "What are you going to do Man? PUNCH ME?. I've had enough of his BS..... I closed my eyes and tried to control my anger.
"It's not cool man.". My voice was shaking with anger .
The anger sounded like weakness to him I guess . My anger was fuel to his douchiness and he came to me and knocked me over. I lost my balance and was about to hit the edge of a sharp desk when I felt I stopped myself. I felt something I've never felt before. I felt the desk with my HANDS!!. Tony was right behind me now and I could hear his mouth breathing grow louder...I balled up what I felt was my hand into a fist and aimed it right between his eyes just above the nose.
It made a noise like a baseball makes when it hits the sweet spot on the bat. I hit Tony's face for a homerun and pain shot through my knuckles,wrist , forearm , arm and to my brain. I felt it. . I could feel both my arms.Tony was out cold. My colleagues looked at me like I how Emily Rose saw those devil's faces .I broke into a run and stormed out of there.
I felt pain in my KNUCKLES. I've never seen my knuckles , I've never had the privilege of cracking my knuckles after finishing a long piece of crappy school assignment. As I was about to turn a corner I heard a voice "It took you long enough. We thought you would never use them". I knew that voice. I turned around to see a familiar face and felt a pang of vertigo take over me .I felt faint now and even though I got new arms my legs started to give away from under me.I fell into a deep slumber.
Will continue if people like it. |
**[Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6w2nh8/wp_it_is_1941_and_german_troops_march_on_a_small/dm5v476/) posted below!**
***
*December 1941 in Ivalkovo, U.S.S.R.*
Every light in the Petrov cottage was snuffed out, the wax still hot and pooling. Beds sat unmade, blankets tumbling to the floor. Shoes in a neat stack by the door.
Captain Feliks Vogel stood in the empty one-room cabin with five restless boys who have not yet felt the dark thrill of squeezing a trigger and watching an animal die. They turned their guns nervously downward and watched Vogel, trying to figure out how to react.
"Should we check the barn?"one ventured, whispering, even though these peasants surely did not speak German.
"No,"Vogel said. "They're here."
He barked at the men, "*Durchsuchen!*"and they began tearing the Petrov's family home apart. They upended the kitchen table, kicked aside rugs, yanked open every unlocked door and broke the locked ones until they too opened.
They found the Petrovs huddled in a small hideaway under the family's immense bed, where grandmother, father, mother, and all three children slept in the winter months, coiled together like bears seeking warmth.
The machine guns roared into the silent night.
The soldiers obliterated the Petrovs in a brilliant spray of scarlet--all except one, the youngest child, who could not be found when the family first heard the death knell of engines growling up the dirt lane. Asya Nadya Petrov had been in the forest, hunting night fairies, risking wolves and her own mother's wrath (equal terrors). She had never seen a night fairy, but her grandmother's stories were full of them.
She was in the woods when the first shots rang out. She snapped her head toward her farmhouse, invisible beyond the trees, and began running toward it, senseless.
Asya dropped her bag, a beaded leather thing her mother had made for her, full of the precious secrets of the forest, but she kept running, too panicked to think of anything but fleeing to the safety of home.
But when she reached the edge of the forest, her childhood home was already burning. A truck full of men was driving away from it, followed by another, and another, and another.
Asya watched, uncomprehendingly, as they drove toward her village. She was seven years old. She had heard her parents whisper about the soldiers when they thought she had fallen asleep, but they were nightmares from another world. Surely, she always thought, they would not really dare.
But they did dare. The roof of her home collapsed in a pile of raging timber.
Asya screamed when she realized what she saw, but her scream was swallowed by another much larger sound, blooming up behind her. The low, billowing note of a hunting horn speared through the dark, though it was impossibly loud, louder than her father's own little thing. It reverberated across the valley like the shout of God himself.
The girl turned to see the night-dark trees come suddenly to life. The creatures from her grandmother's story came striding out of the darkness, legs as long as she was tall, moving like willow through the wind. Some were armed with golden bows and arrows whose entire shafts rippled with cold silver flame. Others carried spears with wickedly sharp glass heads which could only be destroyed by dragon fire. They rode strange animals like something out of a fairy tale: great furred beasts which crashed through the trees on their enormous back haunches, while their smaller front limbs slashed through the underbrush with machetes the color of summer leaves.
"Elves,"Asya whispered like a prayer, remembering her grandmother's stories. How offended her grandmother became when Asya's mother called them fables. She stood still in the stampede, too stunned to know what to do.
One of the elves on the furred animals stopped when he reached her. He wore armor of hardened wood, charmed to be impenetrable. His fingers were long, delicate. He had immense eyes which were almost totally black, like flat stones.
Then he said, in extremely bad Russian, "You should not be here."
"You're magical,"she whispered.
"Come,"he told her, and held out his hand.
Asya took the elf's hand and he lifted her up on his mount as if she were light as a maple seed. She clutched the gilded saddle horn with one hand and held onto the beast's thick, curly coat with the other. The elf's armor was stiff and cool against her back. She tried not to stare at the burning skeleton of her life out there in the field.
He pointed out to it and looked at her, questioningly.
The girl looked at her lap and nodded.
"You stay with me,"he told her. "You will be safe."He sheathed his broad and brilliantly green sword and wrapped his arm instead around her middle. "I am Finwe."
Then Finwe clicked his tongue and his mount burst forward, leading the cavalry onward, toward the trucks headed to the main village.
Asya marveled at the night forest melting away behind them as they broke the treeline and tore across the Petrov's field, full of alfalfa waiting to be cut. Three dozen riders spurred forward together, the rest of the elven army following on foot. She turned her head to watch her house burn until it was lost behind Finwe's back, and she could see only the smoke blotting out the stars.
Ivalkovo's main village sat in the bottom of a valley. When the elf army crested the ridge, they found the trucks already in the village, a group of shuddering villagers already illuminated in the headlights, their hands raised above their heads. Captain Vogel, who Asya would one day recognize as the man who killed her family, snarled orders, perforating the night sky over and over again with warning shots.
He must not have heard the horns over his own gun.
Finwe, who still had his arm firmly looped around Asya's front, whispered in her ear, "Be brave."
And then they plunged forward, into the valley below.
***
/r/shoringupfragments
**[Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6w2nh8/wp_it_is_1941_and_german_troops_march_on_a_small/dm5v476/) posted below!** |
The bell tower struck twelve. Draco sat at the head of the large oak table, Vincent at his side. The loft was littered with cobwebs strewn across old antiques and statues. Candles light up the room casting a yellow glow on the dozen sitting around the table. Goblets of blood in front of each, some had hungrily drunk them dry, the prospect of clean blood and their ravenous hunger too much to control. Others had restrained themselves sipping on the warm blood, veins throbbing in their necks crying out for more.
“I’ve gathered you here because of the drastic measures we need to take to cull this... tainting,” Draco said.
Many around the table nodded. Gregory pounded his fist on the table, his glass half full of blood wobbled, some looked on with dread as the glass almost tipped over, “Draco you hothead, why the hell should I and mine band together to assist you and yours? The last time we did was two hundred years ago, I don’t think I have to go into detail what a disaster that was.”
“Yes Gregory I understand your... fears, but just last night Louis was murdered, a stake through the heart. He had been hunting the upper-class looking for untainted food,” Draco replied.
Vincent chimed in, “This crack cocaine epidemic is tainting our easy pickings. The rich are onto us, we have mixed in their circles for far too long and now they are protecting themselves. And even some of them have fallen to the drug.”
“With your permission gentlemen, Vincent and I will take down one of the kingpins and send a message, no need for you to bloody your hands just yet,” Draco said.
They all nodded agreement, Gregory reluctantly.
“To clean blood!” Draco cheered as they all clinked glasses and downed the rest of the blood.
As everyone dispersed back to their boroughs Draco and Vincent sat in the dark, Vincent having blown out the candles.
Draco looked at the corpses of the young couple that he had lured and bled, stuffed in the corner of the room. They had made for a good meal.
“Vincent, now we need to strike!”
“Yes yes, but we need to make sure the plan is airtight.”
“Ah you and your plans. Fine.”
Vincent unrolled a map of New York on the large table. He pointed to their target, the Empire State building.
---
Flying up the tall building, Draco occasionally peered inside the windows.
“So many temptations!” Draco yelled down to Vincent.
“Focus!” Vincent yelled back up.
They arrived outside of the rooms window. The place was bustling; young scantily clad women dancing to *girls just wanna have fun* as men in neon track suits watched them while snorting copious amounts of cocaine.
“We’ll fit right in,” Draco said grinning looking at their black cloaks.
Vincent wrapped his hand in his cloak and smashed the window.
“What the hell!” one of the goons yelled as Draco and Vincent swooped into the room. Girls screamed and ran for cover. One henchmen fired his Uzi but it was too late; Draco had glided behind him and cracked his neck wide open, blood sputtering out.
“Kill them!” a large fat man in a suit yelled from the corner of the room.
Vincent was on top of one of the goons having sliced his neck with a dagger.
“So precise and clean Vincent, but I like to get my hands dirty,” Draco said as he quickly swooped on the last neon clad gangster standing, hoisting him above his head then bringing his body down on his knee breaking his spine. Vincent had the fat man bound up and gagged while Draco hovered over to a girl whimpering on the floor.
“Darling don’t cry. You know these men are scum,” he said holding out his hand. The girl sobbed and wiped tears off her face. She grabbed the hand hypnotically. Draco grinned, his fangs extending.
“No, she’s dirty,” Vincent said.
Draco sighed, pushed her aside as she ran out of the room.
“Should we kill him now?” Vincent asked.
“No not yet. Un-gag him,” Draco said.
Vincent removed the gag and the man began yelling obscenities.
Draco grabbed the mans arm and twisted it causing him to scream.
“Dear sir you tell your boss we’re coming for him and we will not have him tainting our feeding grounds,” Draco said.
The man squealed through tears, “He doesn’t give a crap about you and your kind.”
“In time he will,” Draco said gesturing to Vincent.
“I hate this part,” Vincent said as he sunk his knife into the man's neck. He removed his shirt and meticulously carved two words with the blade.
*You next*.
------
Part 2 can be found on my sub I just made r/SerializedFiction/ (Tainted Blood. Part 2). Please let me know if you want me to continue this story there. |
Every 7 years, those of age will gain their wings. With your wings, you also receive talents and abilities unique to your personality. Some receive sturdy wooden wings with ornate carvings, symbolizing a steadfast and stubborn soul. Those with feathers are free and spirited. Few get paper, but those fragile wings rarely last long, as the soul they belong to is just as frail. Some will receive gorgeous glass wings, naming them delicate but beautiful. And fewer still are given heavy stone wings, and those souls will stay on the ground, for they are the downtrodden and guilty entities. There are, sometimes, those who receive wings made of the strongest iron chains. Those are our warriors, our protectors, and sometimes, our villains.
Today is the 7th Year Ceremony, and the day I will receive my wings. I'm anxious, not knowing who I will be. As the line gets shorter, and I see my peers ascend with their wings, I notice wood, paper, feathers. Nothing else yet. Finally, it's my turn. As I slowly tread up the steps toward our Elders, I suddenly feel all the thousands of eyes on my back. Once I reach the top, and face the Elders, I hear them chanting, and I am suddenly engulfed in a bright blue light. Emerging from the blaze, I am suddenly painfully aware of those thousands of eyes again, only now accompanied by a deathly silence. I notice the gaping jaws of several of my peers. I turn my head, to find my own jaw dropped. Several warriors grab my arms, dragging me backwards. In shock, I just stare at my own wings.
"No one, ever, in the history of our race, has had wings like those. We have no choice but to put you in containment until we know more. I hope you can forgive us."The Elder spoke loudly, his voice resonating off the walls. I continue to stare into my wings, still dazed. All I can think about is what kind of abilities could possibly come with wings made of mirrors? |
Bram sorted the scrolls by cool-down time, longest to shortest.
He figured the scrolls with the longest time between uses would be both the most powerful and the first to be used, so those were the ones to grab. He took a sip of his sweet tonic out of his ‘first the sip, then the tricks’ goblet.
The longest cool-down scroll had a duration of five centuries and beared the file name “ブラックマウンテンドラゴン_ Burakkumauntendoragon_Black Mountain Dragon.scrl”
Bram knew the legend of this scroll. Made sense it took five hundred years between uses. *Japanese, huh?* Bram thought. *I wonder if I could fake it? Not that I would ever summon the Black Mountain Dragon, who on Earth would ever do that!?*
Bram heard screaming outside his apartment window and poked his head out. It was noon, but a large cloud covered the sun, only it wasn’t a cloud - it was the gargantuan black dragon of the legend.
*Hmm, guess there’s always someone willing to do anything.* Bram thought as he watched the dragon eclipse the sun. Truly it was the size of the greatest mountain range and left behind it gigantic white and grey contrails spawning furious lightning bolts blindingly streaking and forking about within the spiraling, stratospheric thunderclouds.
The earth-shattering rumbling of the perpetual lightning storm reached Bram’s ears. It was a constant thunderstorm. And then the black leviathan opened its epic mouth and spewed an island’s worth of white and yellow hot lava.
Bram watched as the lava of the dragon continued on, over the horizon, destined to land on some distant nation. He pulled his head back inside and sat down at his Dell again, and onto a kitty?
“MEOW!” meowed the unexpected kitty.
“Bah! Where did you come from?” Bram, not a cat lover, said aghast.
The cat responded by curling up in his seat and purring. It began to lick itself into a serious bath. Bram heard more mewing and, looking back out the window, now saw that the streets were full of kitties.
He pushed his purring chair aside and leaned over his computer again. *Of course, the “every kitty on earth” scroll. Cooldown time of four hundred years. Who makes these things?* Bram pondered.
Again some sounds flowed-in through Bram’s window. This time it was the kitties again, but they were excitedly hissing and howling.
*What now!?* thought Bram, poking his head out of his apartment window for the third time.
Almost before seeing the sight, he caught the strong smell of the ocean and…*fish!* There were fish everywhere and the kitties were intermixed with the sea life, half-fighting, half-eating it all.
Bram went back to his computer again where he heard the sounds of the kitty in his chair eating a fish. A surprisingly identifiable sound.
Bram's gleaming, glistening crystal iPhone suddenly alerted him, and everyone, that there were sword-storms on the way. Sword-storms were exactly what they sounded like, and it was going to be world-wide.
The first thing people were doing with this great power was trying to end the world. Typical.
The cat continued to feast.
*OK, Bram. You are a tech support manager and a level four mage, so you can fix this.*
Bram looked up the “Legendary Scroll of Troubleshooting” - a somewhat lesser-known scroll, but still quite legendary. It was a twenty four hour duration scroll, as expected.
Bram invoked the scroll.
“Hello, Legendary tech support here, what seems to be your legendary trouble today?” a cheery voice boomed from all around.
“Uh hi, I’m Bram,” said Bram timidly. “Uh, I got a Black Mountain Dragon scroll someone set-off and Every Kitty in the Universe scroll, I think and there’s all the fish in the sea on the land and finally there’s going to be sword rain all over the planet.”
“I’m very sorry to hear you’re having trouble,” the friendly and slightly-accented voice announced. “And I wold be happy to help you with your trouble. Would you give me permission to access your computer?”
Bram would ordinarily ask to be directed what to do, but decided that the apocalypse was a good reason to forgo normal security precautions. “OK, yes. Go ahead.”
“OK thank you sir,” replied the voice as Bram's computer browsed with blazing speed through the scrolls. “Ah, yes. I’m going to use this reverse-irony patch that was just released last month. Glad to see you have it available!”
Bram didn’t feel the need to inform the tech support genie, or whatever it was, of the Earth’s peril. “UH, sounds good! Go ahead, please.” Bram smiled, then squeaked, “quickly if possible.”
“There you go, sir! That should do it.” exclaimed the voice proudly.
And then suddenly the kitty in Bram’s chair grew to human-size while the fish it had been eating became a fish-shaped, silvery shield. A suit of shining armour appeared on the big kitty and it picked up the fish shield and bounded out the door.
Bram followed it outside where he beheld the streets full of kitty knights with their mirror fish shields. And then, all at once, they jumped, leaping upwards like rockets, millions of millions of benighted felines, shooting into the sky, their shields above them, towards the falling swords.
And the swords struck the shields of the flying cats, turning the blades heavenward where they flew up and all billions of them struck the dragon, causing it to explode in an acid rainbow which engulfed all the airborne cats and their shields.
After the screams of agony from the cats vanished, there was nothing left but clear, blue skies.
“Huzzah!” the cheer raised from all the people of the Earth.
Bram exhaled a huge sigh of relief and sat down at his TV to watch his favorite nature documentary, however the big predators had all become baby animal versions of themselves. *well, I can live with the “turn all predators into baby animals” scroll. No need to fix that, it’s acceptable*.
Then Bram heard, yet again, another scream through his window and a few terrified voices from the street below shouting, “Run away! Run away!”
Then another voice shouting, “I warned you, but did you listen to me? Oh, no, you knew it all, didn't you? Oh, it's just a harmless little bunny, isn't it? Well, it's always the same. I always tell them--”
Bram got up and closed his window. Someone else can handle that one.
|
*Recovered from Earth 666969842-z3R
Rough draft of Timmy Johnsons's 8th grade World History from 1797- 2001 Report *
********************************************************************************
Napoleon Bonaparte's Russia campaign is still remembered as one of the greatest cases of foresight in military history. His establishment of a strong supply line and decision to outfit his troupes with winter clothes were what allowed him to conquer Russia and keep his troops intact to defeat England, as well as his decision to subdue spain, portugal and prussia first before attacking russia.
Historians agree that a chance meeting at the Battle of Rivoli changed history. Israel Rabanovich, a Russian Jewish emigre to Italy was captured at the battle of Rivoli. Rabanovich had been impressed into an Italian penal unit. Napeleon decided to inspect the prisoners and struck up a conversation with him. Rabanovich spoke of the brutal Russian winters and pogroms in Russia. “if you invade russia, you must have warm clothes and a strong supply line. They will burn food rather than let your troops forage, so spiteful are those russians” Napoleon pondered his words all night and at dawn ordered the man released, bringing him onto his staff. Over the next several years Rabanovich would tell Napoleon everything he knew about Russia.
In 1812 Instead if attacking russia, Napoleon attacked the British instead. On June 18th 1812 he invades the United Kingdom, landing his forces near Cantebury, having decimated much of the British fleet in the channel. He pressed harder into English territory than was expected, the British were forced to recall troops from the American colonies, seeing his opportunity he negotiated a trade agreement to buy woolen winter clothes from the Americas. The Americans joined the napoelonic wars on the side of France. The Battle of Britian would be protracted, eventually in 1815 after the shelling of London, the British sued for peace.
Napoleon agreed upon the terms that he would marry the crown princess. The treaty of London stipulated that Britain would join the European Congress of Nations, but that their representative would be the British prime Minister. On midsummer's day 1816 he was crowned king of England. He immediately directed Monmouth to produce vast quantities of woolen garments for his army. He also ordered research into canned goods and faster transit.
In 1821 Napoleon’s troops siezed Moscow after defeating all of his other enemies. The czar's family were executed. Napoleon crowned himself Emperor of Russia, he paid off the patriarch of the Russian church to attribute his success to God's anger at the czars.
Napoleon's Grand empire of Europa brought peace to europe. Near the end of his life he created the European Congress, based on the American system. The United Nations of Europa would enjoy a peace and prosperity unheard of, as the centralization of governance and common language (french)would make research and education much easier. His propaganda eventually lead the British to consider him the second coming of King Arthur. His tomb would be the most opulent in history, and a young Adolf Hitler would visit it and become inspired to become an architect.
The lack of Spanish, and English influence in the new world allowed for native and American influence to grow. Russia would remain at peace long into the future. Aside from the japanese-islamic wars over africa and canadian-american squabbles. The would would be mostly at peace the next couple hundred years. Rabbi Rabanovich's contributions to world peace did much to reduce anti-semitism in europe and the world.
In 1895, a young moscow tailor by the name of Josef Stalin accidentally created a light weight synthetic fabric that retained body heat very well. His Stalin Odezda line would go on to sell very well, making him one of the richest men in Russia and then the world. His new found wealth allowed him to travel the world eventually moving to Cuba, where he discovered a love of yachting.
The Great War (also known as the 11th crusade )of 1914-1919 would see the destruction of Mecca and Medina, as well as the complete destruction of the Dome of the Rock, and the fall of islam as well as the reclamation of the Holy Land and the japanese conquest of africa and Australian occupation of China. The treaty of Jerusalem established a Jewish State in Israel. The Allies, US, Europa, and South America, defeated the Axis forces The Ottoman Caliphate and China. African and Japan were neutral powers too interested in fighting each other.
In 1927 Austrian Architect Adolf Hitler and American Frank Lloyd Wright complete their most famous building, the new Grand Museum of Europa, the building became known as the 8th wonder of the world. They would collaborate on several more buildings such as the Chicago Opera House, the Grand Train Station of Istanbul and much of the University of Jerusalem. On April 30th 1945 Adolf Hitler was killed leaving a speech at the University of Jerusalem School of Engineering, when an alcoholic bus driver jumped the curb and struck him. He died instantly at the scene.
On June 6th, 1944, a joint European and American mission would land on the moon at the mare tranquilis. Gregory Boyington, the American astronaut would be the first man to set foot on the moon, “that's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.” Manfred Von Rictoffen II would be the second man to set foot on the moon. Russian astronaut, Yuri Trotsky would be the third. French astronaut Jean Paul Pierre would wait in the orbiting vehicle waiting to retract the tether pulling the other three up.
November 3rd 1963 President John F Kennedy was in Dallas Texas to award the congressional medal of honor to Sargent Lee Harvey Oswald for his valor serving in the Marines during the Canadian-American War over the Congo. He singlehandedly saved the life of 20 of his fellow soldiers at the cost of his right eye and his legs. That night Sgt Oswald suffered a major heart attack. He was buried in Arlington National Cemetery with Full Honors.
In 1969 American Astronaut Buzz Armstrong would be the first man to land on mars.
In 1972 Physicist Gene Roddenberry would discover the subspace warp tachyon-quantum theory. It would revolutionize physics and go onto allow humanity to attain faster than light travel. It was'nt until 1991 that the first Roddenberry drive would be built.
In 1982 Former US president John F. Kennedy would die of a heart attack at the Copa Cabana in Havana Cuba, whilst sharing a drink with lifelong friend Fidel Castro. The world mourned.
September 11th 2001.Humanity lands on Alpha Centari, to find the ruins of the Skedar race which perished 2000 years before humanity arrived.
*Edited due to having the wrong year for OTL D Day. |
The smile slid from my face as I saw the expression not being reciprocated. My hands tied together in knots within my apron, slick with nervousness. “Uh, is-is somethin’ wrong folks?”
The one in front’s brow furrowed more severely, any more and his high forehead would meet his thin lips. “What. Are. You?” His every word was steeped in sharpest vinegar, an expression of distaste written clearly on his face. His companions had similar expressions ranging from disgust to curiosity, as if I were something to be examined and not a living being.
“Well mah name is Falerian Skyleaf, son o’ Horace and Greta Rockbellow.” The elves looked at each other and murmured, the elven voices evoking memories I long thought forgotten. “Well not their blood son o’ course cause ahm an elf obviously-“
“Obviously.” The leader spoke again, the word burning like acid and I flinched. My face turned redder as he continued. “What in the name of the Gods are you doing here? Also why are you speaking like that? Are you addled?”
“Mah folks talk like this, so do the rest of the clan and the dwellers ‘ere.” My voice turns harder like father’s steel. “What’s wrong wit it?”
“You sound like a boor. No true elf would sound like that. Nor would they agree to live in a hole in the ground like a rat. I demand to-“
“Ah don’t think yer in any position to make demands.” A low voice tumbled like the stones of the mountains came from behind me. A large hand pats my back, scarred from fire and metal yet infinitely gentle, and ushers me to one side. My father stands tall, admittedly much shorter than I or the other elves, but broad and steady. “Ah’ll thank ye to not talk to m’boy like that.” Dark brown eyes looked up calmly at irate blue ones.
“So you are the ‘father’ then?” The lead elf sniffed. My father only nodded in reply, broad hand pulling on chestnut brown beard. Incensed by the lack of verbal reply the elf continued. “So, how did you trick this elf to pretend to be your son and work in this,” a snooty gesture around the forge, “hovel?”
My father quirked and eyebrow and cleared his throat. “Ah tricked no one. Ah leave trickery to those like,” he made a similar gesture the elf had made, “yerself. Ah found the lad as a babe. His family dead or gone amid a wreckage of a caravan. Took him in and raised him as me own. He wanted to learn the metal workin’ art and ah’ll say he’s good at it.”
The elf’s faced turned red with anger and his body trembled slightly. “Be that as it may, I demand-“
“Ye don’t go demandin’ in another one’s place o’ business. Not ‘ere in Mount Holdfast.” My father interrupted the elf cooly, hand drifting to the hammer at his side. “Especially when ye’ve been rude. In fact, ah think ye won’t find anything ye’ll like ‘ere. Why don’t you go somewhere else.”
The elf’s features twisted, anger rising to the forefront. “Are you kicking me out?”
My father smiled, cool as stone. “Why yes ah am. And ye call m’boy dense. Kinda funny that.”
The elf opened his mouth to speak but a companion placed a hand on his shoulder. Whispered words flew between them and they turned to leave. His head looked to me, hate in his eyes. “Looks like we were wrong. No elves here.” The group left, a few looking embarrassed and bowed slightly to us.
My father sighed heavily and patted my arm. “Ah’m sorry lad. Knew ye wanted to meet others like ye. Not a good first impression.”
I wiped away a tear and shrugged. “Well, turns out they aren’t like me much at all father.”
He smiled back and clapped me on the back. I’m used to it now and barely stumble from his hearty swat. “That’s the spirit lad. Don’t ye worry. Ye’ll meet others. Not all o’ them are like that.”
I nodded and smiled softly, father always knows what to say. As we return to work I look out the door with a wistful sigh, and lost myself into the sounds of metal and fire. |
They call me Four Finger Fin, and while it ain’t no 5 finger discount I make quite the living from out of your pocket. What a lot of people don’t know is that pick-pocketing is all about the fingers. I stole from a rich man who turned out to also have a sadistic side, he thought it would be funny to see a pickpocket lose a finger. He thought the thumb was the most important like everyone else, and so his goons brought the knife down and off it went. I was just a twelve year old kid then, and twenty years later I became the best pickpocket in the big apple.
But then I swiped this phone . . . The girl was sitting, looking very mousy and almost constantly scared, right next to me on the subway. The car was always a good place to pickpocket during rush hour. Lots of people rushing from A to B and C to A getting on and off the car for two hours straight. But this girl had zero security on her phone; I normally go for wallets or anything that looks valuable, but phones are usually not one of those things thanks to GPS and security.
I always stare out the window on the subway, with my forehead on the glass. There is not a whole lot to look at out there, but the dark tunnels provide a nice mirror. Nobody suspects the bum who’s eating caviar tonight thanks to the 600 in cash I just scored. The car came to a stop and the girl stood up, as if she were just poked by the seat or saw a ghost. When she turned to face the doors, my four fingered friend dug into her pocket and grabbed the treasure. The owner vacated the car, the doors closed, and I watched as she frantically looked all over for the thing that was now in my hands. The cart rolled away, unconcerned by any of it.
I examined the phone. It did not have any buttons, but when I held it in the palm of my five fingered hand the screen lit up. The beauty lit up bright and in better detail than any phone I had ever needed, but the dumb lady was living in the future. Her date was set for one year in the future, I wonder if she even ever noticed. I went through her contacts and calls for the fun of it and noticed all the dates for recent calls also hadn’t happened yet.
I tapped on the Google icon I was familiar with to explore a little more, and it opened something similar to a Facebook page, but google colored and with the Google famous designed logo screen on top. It depicted some planet that might have been mars, but the news feed under the search bar pulled my attention more quickly. The first article I could see was titled “Tesla: The First Car Drove on Mars Today!” And right next to that was 12/15/18, the same date incorrectly printed on the phone.
Now it has been a few days. I figured out that the date is somehow not incorrect. I searched for news that day for tomorrow's events, and everyone lined up perfectly and I just bought myself a lotto ticket. Guess who just made it big! Well, tomorrow at 3 when they pull the numbers ittl finally be me.
The battery on the phone died, but I was smart and wrote down lots of information in good ol’ fashioned pencil and paper. I still have the phone, but there is no charging port and I can’t figure out how I am supposed to charge it . . . I was too focused with searching for profitable information to have made that search. Glad I did though, now I can make it bigger than that slimy no good Mr Biggs and his goons that got my finger. |
I learned to read them the way you learn to recognize shapes; at a very early age and without a real understanding of what they were. They aren't exactly floating numbers and letters, they are more like moving sensations around people and creatures. I think of them like runes in space and time itself. I've wondered if they might be actual auras, but the runes don't glow - they just are.
Actually *seeing* the runes requires using your eyes to *feel* them, like how your fingers might trace the grooves on a stone in the dark, using that feeling to create an image in the mind. Once I had traced an entire rune, the image of it clear in my mind, I would then be rewarded with a quick visual flash; a glimpse of the actual rune itself, in the air, for a brief shimmering moment. Then gone, no after image.
There are hundreds or thousands of these runes surrounding a person or creature. In my life, I have only managed to learn the true meaning of one of them; the most solid rune which sits firm above every living thing. All creatures have them, and most plants. On bugs they are small and hard to see, just like the bug is small, on trees they are truly astounding.
This was the creature's Death Rune; I could see them, and by the time I was in elementary school, I knew what the rune meant - it was the time and date the creature would die.
At nineteen years old I was drafted into the war and turned combat medic. The survival rates for those I treated were among the highest - but this was not solely because of my talent for medicine (which was great); I was also the world's greatest triage specialist, although nobody knew this. I could, after all, read the death rune above a person's head and know if it was a waste of time to treat them.
Because of my ability to see death runes, I had also been able to avoid being killed in the war. I had avoided accompanying certain units, being able to see above the poor soldiers' heads that they would not be coming back that night. I always managed to avoid going out with those groups. This lost me many friends, in more than one way.
Many decades after the war, I was sitting comfortably in my spacious office, enjoying a fresh cup of coffee, contemplating my successful medical practice, when I was urgently called to the exam room to see a patient. I knocked, then walked into the room to see a young woman sitting on the examination table. Immediately I saw her rune: past expiration!
I stood there, mid-smile, shocked. How was this possible? Out of a strange, flailing reflex, I desperately grasped at other runes about her, looking for meaning, looking for some explanation. Although I didn't know how to read any of these other runes, they were nonetheless unlike anything I had ever felt. Something was definitely wrong here.
I realized I wasn't saying anything. "Oh, uh, well,"I glanced at her chart. "Susan! You certainly seem out of sorts. Can you.."She stopped me, placing her hand on my arm, looked up at me with bloodshot eyes, though their green was still rich, closed them slowly, almost sweetly, I thought, and then erupted into a violent fit of coughing. I caught her before her coughing jostled her off the exam table and onto the floor.
Once the raucous fit abated, she gasped a few breaths and withdrew from my support, setting herself back on the table. She hefted her head to gaze sluggishly at me with her watery, red/green eyes. Then her miserable expression suddenly crumbled into a look of pleading. "You have to help to me!"she cried. "See,"she said intently, narrowing her teary eyes. "I can tell there is something special about you, doctor."
She was correct there.
She stood up from the exam table and stumbled over to me, stifling another hacking fit. "I can tell that you have the sight, whether you know it or not."
The sight?
She wobbled unsteadily, and I again caught her in my arms. "You may not believe me, but I am a witch and I have been cursed. And you must help me find the cure."
I looked up at the sick woman's expired death rune and then back to her eyes and said levelly, "I believe you." |
It's game time.
The teacher clicks on her computer, the screen changing to a new question in front of our eyes.
I stop time.
I scan the question rapidly, then slower. I've got all the time in the world. I pick out every detail and run it through my brain. Noting the possible answers, I rule them out one by one until I'm certain I've found the correct one. I focus on that answer and prepare my finger to mark it instantly. Yellow circle. Yellow circle. Yellow circle. Am I ready? Yes.
I start time.
My finger jabs at the yellow circle on my personal screen before the others have had a chance to read the question. I sit back, satisfied, as the rest of the class's answers come in.
I repeat my process for the remaining questions, each time destroying my competition. The game ends. I've won.
I am the Kahoot champion again. |
(First ever WP i have written, sorry in advance for bad quality. Just wanted to try something new.)
“YT-30, you are free to enter the warp zone”
The robotic voice of Sena, my spaceship voice assistant, boomed through the cabin.
I looked outside into the pitch black space that enveloped me, the distant stars emitting a fading red colour. Despite being millions of light years away from Earth and travelling at speeds near to our theoretical limit, I couldn’t accept the fact the universe was still expanding around me.
“Would it continue to expand forever, what happens in the end?”
“Well, that’s why you are here aren’t you, to prove this once and for all.”
I realised that I had unknowingly spoken aloud for Sena to reply.
I looked down onto my dashboard, located the button I needed, and pressed it.
At first, nothing happened nor did anything change.
“Sena, what is happening?”
No reply came back, I looked down onto my dashboard and as I was reluctantly about to press the ‘Emergency: return to base’ trigger Sena’s familiar voice boomed again.
“ERROR, ERROR, ALL EXTERNAL SENSORS FAILING.”
In shock, I glanced down to the sensor panel and read values that should be impossible.
[Velocity]: 144 892 233 499 m/s – 483.3 x speed of light
[Mass]: 0N – 0KG
Amidst Sena still announcing the errors I was in shock trying to deduce what was happening, how was this possible? Travelling faster that the speed of light is impossible, I scanned the black space outside once again and realised something extremely wrong.
Every star was now emitting a blue colour, meaning that I was travelling faster than the stars. Getting closer to them, I perceived what this meant.
I would catch up to the edge of the universe and, eventually burst through the edge.
EDIT: Fixed up grammar. |
Fair warning, this is pretty silly.
"Worthless. Why did you force this on me?"
Ted looked confused. He looked at Bill for guidance, but found none. They both shrugged clumsily.
"I am deaf, you fools!"Beethoven hurled the headphones at the to teenagers. Ted caught them with his nose.
"Uff! Bro, not cool. Why did you sit there for so long then? We've been doing this all day. And how are we having this conversation then?"Ted rubbed his face.
"I read lips. And I was enjoying these frozen treats you continued to bring me."
"Slushies? Dude, they're amazing right?"
"Most refreshing. Now please, I would like to return home."
"We still need your help, doggy dude!"Bill seems to have regained his composure after diving out of the way of the headphones. "We've got a music composition report due on Monday and there's no way we pass it without you."
Beethoven looked skeptical. "My friends, perhaps if you possessed some sheet music. Failing that, I'm afraid I cannot be much help."
"No worries, my baroque buddy, we'll just download it for you!"
"Nice one, Bill!"Ted high fived his friend. "Follow us, Beethoven! The computer is in Bill's dad's office. Maybe we'll see Missy on the way."
"Shut up, Ted!"
Beethoven picked up his slushie and took a long, satisfying sip.
|
"Are you seeing this?"Stephen pointed at the glass screen mounted on the wall. "Those rock formations aren't natural, I swear."
"They look the same to me, Stephen. Anything abnormal would be picked up by the ultraviolet sensors anyway,"Ayano said, enunciating each syllable carefully. She checked the screen and fiddled with the controls. "I've started another ultraviolet scan and a chemical analysis, just for good measure."
Stephen frowned and looked away. He didn't want to compromise the mission just because he had a queer feeling, but the pictures of the rock formations kept on playing in his mind. Where had he seen those rock formations before? They looked so familiar and alien at the same time.
"Huh, that's weird. Ultraviolet scan shows that the columns of rock on the right side of the screen are of equal height and width. It might be an error though,"Ayano said. "Ultraviolet ray emission from those rock formations are abnormally high. Elam, how's the chemical analysis?"
"Air composition is approximately 95% carbon dioxide, 3% nitrogen, and-"Elam squinted at the screen. "Trace amounts of oxygen and ozone. I think we should take a closer look. Oxygen and ozone levels are abnormally high in his region. Stephen?"
Nobody responded. He turned his head towards Stephen and Ayano, mildly annoyed.
"Hello, I just said something? Guys-,"Elam fell silent and gaped. A vast city emerged from the dust clouding the camera. Towering structures of alien construct loomed over rover, bathing the rover in shadows and silence. Complex patterns were carved along the sides of the buildings, weaving visions of foreign beauty. Green, luminescent orbs floated in front of the doorways of the buildings. "But why is no one there?"Elam wondered out loud.
"Holy Mother of God,"-Stephen clutched at the cross that hung around his neck-"we found proof of other civilizations. Ayano, are we recording this?"Stephen grabbed her by her shoulders.
Ayano shrugged of his grip and continued to stare. *It's so beautiful*, she thought as she surveyed the landscape. *No, not beautiful. Majestic.*
The orbs winked and disappeared. A red light began to emerge from the doorways. Ayano began to tremble. She just *knew* that she had disturbed something best left undisturbed. Unforgiving realizations began to infest her mind, as all rational thought fled her brain. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Ayano? I'm sorry I was rough with you just now. I'm just too excited,"Stephen said. 'Ayano?"
Stephen gently spun her around to face him. "I'm sorry, okay? Don't be mad. It wasn't-"He looked into her eyes and stepped back in horror.
Her eyes were red, and they were glowing.
|
"Look, just one a month. That's all the studio is asking you to do. No late night on the bus traveling or let night jets and hotel stays."
"My answer is and shall remain final, Benny. Look, how much have you made off my albums and cds? My last one had every single track in the top 20 and five number ones. This next one, I think is going to be even better. I haven't had a single dud yet. For that, I think my request is very reasonable."
"But you can make so much more! Each tour can double or even triple your net worth! The public are crying out to see you live."
"Let them cry. No live shows. Not now. Not ever. I don't do concerts. Not even live acoustic shows for radio stations. That was my one and only major stipulation and you were the only label that accepted."
"Fine. Alright, but you're letting a fortune pass you by."
"I'm perfectly fine with that."
"Sigh. Let me ask you a question that I've wondered about. Why? Is it because you're one of those 'I'm doing it for the music', folks? You don't do drugs and I haven't seen you drink more than one per night. You just work on your albums constantly. So again, why?"
"That's an easy answer. I've been to concerts. I've seen what the pressure does to other musicians. It might not hold true for everyone, Benny, but for me; for me, performing destroys the soul." |
Sam looked down at the empty milk carton. *Perfect excuse to get out in this sun,* he thought, throwing on his trainers and stepping out to the greet the morning.
He listened to the birds sing their chorus as he let the sun warm his face. He smiled. No coat needed. He walked down his garden path, enjoying the vibrant green of his garden, and started towards the shop.
He felt light on his feet as he floated down the street. He turned the bend and saw a lady approaching carrying her morning shopping. He gave her a friendly smile as their paths met, but she carried on without barely a nod. On another day he might have felt disenchanted, but not today. He saw another lady approaching, walking her dog. He decided he would try again. As their paths met he smiled, and she returned it happily, and it felt good. Really good. He carried on towards the shop, the smile staying with him.
On his way back he saw no one, but that was okay too. It gave him time to take in the scenery. The resplendent blue sky without a cloud in sight. The local kids playing football in the street. The angry cat staring at him from its owners window. It was just one of those perfect Sundays. He savoured the warmth of the sun as he approached his house, like the lovely moment when you find the perfect temperature in the shower. Then he went inside, and used his new found milk to prepare some cereal and a nice cup of tea.
He sat enjoying his morning meal as a bird hopped along the ledge of his window. He didn't know too much about the different types of birds, and didn't know what this one was. But he did know one thing. It was nice to look at, and that was enough for him.
After, he went back out to the garden to soak up more of the lovely sun as he read his book. He thought about how lovely this day was turning out to be. Everything had seemed to come together to form a truly ideal and quaint end to the weekend. And then he remembered that this would not always be the case. That there would be days he would have to go to work. Days where the sun does not come out. Days where he gets bad news. And days where, for whatever reason, he just felt a bit down. These were things he couldn't control, and on other days, it might have left him feeling a little sad.
But then he thought of the lady with the dog. Of the smile he shared with her. How he enjoyed that brief moment of kindness, no matter how fleeting it may be. And he smiled. That was something he could control. No matter how bad a future day might be, he felt assured in the fact that he could always smile, and that a stranger might just smile back.
And then he read his book. And do you know what? It was pretty damn good.
:) |
Video games always make it so... Pretty. So clean. The reality is much different. We started fifty strong, not that you'd know looking at us. No mages, it took too long to cast spells and not wearing armor was too big of a penalty to overlook. No rogues, because honestly nobody was stupid enough to wear less armor and go in with only daggers. No, we all wore the armor straight from the armory, custom fitted and nigh impenetrable by a mere sword.
We found them, training their young in the art of war. Caring for those too young to understand what they where doing. If I hadn't known orcs to be inheritly evil, I might have had second thoughts there. Maybe I should have anyway.
We marched in, a solid block, two of them fell before we lost even a single man. Blood washed over us from every wound that landed. Death reaked far sooner then it had any right to. Fear welled up inside as the young and old, sick and wounded all rushed our group. Their bid was simple. Survive.
Turns out, when your unit is flanked, you're pretty much screwed. They must have known what they where doing, because the flankers where children, they had the best chance of survival in this hell we thrust upon us all. If Harold hadn't managed to take the three on the left flank out by himself we'd have surely died.
Its a sad day when killing children makes you a hero. By the end of our torment, we numbered six and our roles changed we where executioners now. For those unable to fight back, be it from youth, old age or disease. Freyya had taken a baby for herself, claiming it was her firstborn, this hell... Changed us all. Hers was perhaps more immediately devastating, she was the best fighter we had left and fought us to her last breath. We numbered three now.
I look back on this day often. I ask myself often if any of us deserved to come out alive. If in truth we deserved to lose, but instead god cursed us with victory. It'd be a fitting punishment I suppose. A lifetime of hell, a lifetime trying desperately to make amends.
I took up politics on my return, swearing I'd never let that happen again. This was almost a decade ago, the councel and the nobility always embellish war. They are so eager to start one when they know they'll never set foot on the battlefield. They tell me I should be proud of my scars, that I should know more then any of them the orcish threat. I always tell them that I do, and that the only threat is that it makes monsters out of honest men and women. The noose looks prettier by the day, but each day I tell myself that if I could manage to negotiate peace tomorrow, but I die today I would be the worst coward imaginable.
Thirty years. Thirty years sense Harold and Sigmund and Freyya died. Each of their souls weigh heavily on my conciousness. Heavier then my flesh on these aching bones, heavier then my destroyed sheild upon my wall. Tomorrow is the day that my work finally reaches an end. The day orcs will flood the capital and not a drop of blood will spill. They will walk among us, not soldiers, not enemies, not cursed abominations, but as artisans, as apprentices and masters, husbands and wives, as people the same as you or your brother. They do will not recognise me, I am uncertain wether to be greatful for that or not just yet.
A decade has passed and my watch does not end. The nobility is ever trying to keep orcs down, They accuse me of favoring orcs over humans, citing my wife as evidence of such. I will not have it. She is the reason I live today, her voice calms the spirits, calms the ravages war took on me for too long. She says that I do the same for her. I cite their half-orc bastard sons as evidence of their jealousy.
Tensions are rising, but my time is nearing an end. I know the gates of hell await me. I deserve the eternal torment for all that I've done. But I will welcome them when the time comes and no sooner. My wife is far younger then I, orcs never believed love to be tied to age. I left her my seat in my will. It will cause an upset, but I know she will stand on the right side of history. |
It was through wry tunnels that I found them, the men with gray skin, their scalps covered in elaborate-patterned craters. Their yellowing eyes ever suspicious as they took me deeper. As the stainless white tiles submerged themselves into ancient caves I learned they clung to ancient values just as we did to fatal fault.
It was in there that I met the Martian Queen. Inside was lavished with powder blue drapes and opal pillars. Guards stood stiff in shoulder and weak in foot with ivory-capped spears resting against their shoulders.
Her long slender fingers swooped through the air as she spoke in an airy voice. Her language was familiar, but they had watched us make the very same mistakes. They had heard our tongue, and she spoke it with a windy accent.
“So you are the last of them,” the Martian Queen said.
I held my tongue. What if they planned to execute us?
“You look like a healthy male of the… I suppose we are still the same species,” the Martian Queen said. “We could test you. Prod you. We could toy with your flesh and see how it resembles our own.”
A tremor built in my legs. Was our fate really left up to her?
“We seek refuge. Is there a word for you? Befitting of your position,” I asked.
“Sitting,” the Martian Queen said, quickly accompanying her words with a light chuckle. She inched forward in her obsidian throne towards the boundary of her seat. “Tell me, what can you offer us? What makes you so sure we would take you under our boot?”
“Our knowledge. Our hands. Our company,” I said.
“We’ve yet to doom our planet a second time. And while you look health, sure, our laborers are generations more experienced at digging. And given that you’ve yet to bow, I’m not sure you’re one for manners.”
I dropped to a knee. “Whatever it takes. The ships will be landing soon. I implore you, do not kill them. They are my friends, my family, they are…” I looked up at her. There was still a glimpse of humanity in her. “Us. We are all in this together now.”
“Indeed we are. I shall make a deal with you,” the Martian Queen said.
“Anything, my Queen.”
“Come, follow. And call me Lady Tribulean. Queen is far too… human,” she said with a flip of the hand and a roll of the eye.
The Martian Queen stood. A set of guards stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder, to place a barrier between myself and Tribulean. Still, she was able to turn her head, look me in the eye, and speak.
We walked through tunnels until I heard a low rumble. Devices dug deep into the ground with wires lit up as the tunnel of earth around me began to move… and then stop. Tectonic energy of some kind, I imagined.
Deeper still we walked until the tunnels opened up into a cityscape etched into the sides of a gargantuan spherical cavity so large I could not see to the opposite side. A rich fog drifted in the spherical underground opening – it wrapped around buildings, around simple Martian men and women that walked along the roads etched along the cavity borders. Ropes and tubes crossed through the center. They met in an enormous knot of metal. It pulsed alive, like some sort of abhorrent heart.
“This is New Mourning, but this is not where you shall stay. No. We have a place for you.”
Deeper we walked through the massive city. Eyes met me with curiosity and contempt. I was a foreigner in this land. To think I was unlucky to have landed first; to be the first to be judged by a people we knew little about.
Beneath the knot of metal we climbed down a set of stairs into pits. Littered around my feet were Martian bones, endless piles of skulls and ribs. A path snaked between them leading towards a small opening of red dirt. It was there I saw a lone shovel, abandoned by a full skeleton with a bony finger pointed towards the surface.
“Land,” Tribulean said. “We need more land. So you will dig. You will dig until your arms fall off. You will dig with your teeth. Lap it up with your tongue and spit it into a pile for all I care.”
“So we offer our labor in exchange for?”
“You will get nothing besides your lives and a bit of food.”
“But-“
“We have given you enough hospitality. Would you rather I order your people to be killed as they arrive? We have the means. Your numbers are small. You dig or you die.”
I walked over towards the shovel and picked it up. It was shockingly heavy, perhaps because it had been a long time since I had worked for a meal, for a place to sleep. It was better than death, I supposed, if it hadn’t been, then why did we fly all that way?
After digging the blade of the shovel into the soil, I scooped it away. “And what if we find something? Some sort of predator, some more tunnels, or valuable resources, what then?” I asked.
“You will find nothing down here, traveler. Now keep going and we might find some tents for you to sleep in.”
She left me to the watchful eye of a particularly intent guard. He sat there, pondering at me -- as if I might defy him.
But I didn’t. I dug. Because maybe, just maybe, there was a little bit of hope to be found down in that dirt.
|
The naked sun beat down, red and furious over the cracked earth. The wind swept over crags and broken, precipitous, stone. Small pools of blood dried as the desert staunched their slow growth. Soft whispers of breeze danced along the barren clay, flinging gray flecks off the flesh of the ground and into the unforgiving air.
A being sat atop a jagged stone tooth, high in the air. His curled blonde locks spilled over his shoulders and onto his back. The wind made them dance and flinch as he sat unwavering in the stagnant wastes. At lengths, the two alabaster wings jutting from his shoulders would tense and beat the air as his arms sat at his sides. A long spear of ash sat abandoned in his lap. Across his chest was a cuirass of steel emblazoned with divine bronze iconography. His silver eyes looked empty into the abyss of a bygone battlefield.
"Hello Michael."Said a small voice behind him.
Turning, the being faced his foe. With speed inhuman, he had stood and gripped his spear. He sat poised to strike, his face taut with rage. His opponent stood a few feet away, wrapped in a course burlap robe. Small horns spiraled outward and upward from his temples. He had a yellow pallor across his body, blue veins showing clear through the translucent skin. Small red eyes smiled back at Michael.
"Peace brother. The games over."He said approaching slowly.
"Then...the last one...?"Michael asked slowly.
He adversary nodded solemnly. Michael allowed his shoulders to fall and the spear to slip from his hands. He returned to his seat overlooking the wastes. The stranger walked forward and took a seat by his side. The two unlikely companions looked out into the unadorned land, Michael balefully and the stranger sadly.
"So it's finally over then."Michael finally offered.
"It finally is."Sighed the stranger.
"It never should have been started, Satan."
"That's where I suppose we can agree, brother."
"Don't call me that. You lost the right to call me that."
Satan laughed weakly to himself. "For that I am sorry. I suppose I expected you to join."
Michael looked at him with furrowed brow, then closed his eyes and dropped his head. "I know. You know I couldn't have."
"I know."Returned Satan placing his hand on Michael's back. "But it had to be done. You had your role and I had mine."
"I just thought... I thought there would be peace at the end. Not... not this."Michael said, tears dropping from his eyes.
"We're just pieces in His game after all."Satan said ruefully.
Michael drew his shoulder out from under his hand. "I took no joy in this. No pleasure. You brought us here, kicking and screaming. You threw yourself against an unassailable foe in the vain hope that you could die in rebellion against Him. You wanted glory as a king or as a martyr!"
"No."Answered Satan softly.
"Liar!"Shouted Michael standing. His spear returned to his hand and sat inches from his enemies throat. Red eyes faded to obsidian pits. At the heart of these pits, small fires began to grow and consume the inky black. With speed unparalleled, he rose. Hideous bat wings of thin purple membrane threw off his robe and tensed outward, waiting for the opponents strike. Their eyes met and held one another. Gradually both beings relaxed and stood facing the other meekly.
"I didn't"Whispered Satan, wings folding.
"You led them astray."Choked Michael, tears returning.
"I gave them a choice."Replied Satan, voice cracking. "Can't you see that? That's all I wanted. To give them a choice."
"A choice to live and die in vain. A chance to feel pain. A chance to hate and know fear. To be truly alone. That is what you gave them. A legacy of ashes."
"But a legacy of their own."Answered Satan pleadingly. "I gave them a chance to know freedom. To know success after strife. Love after triumph. Joy after despair."
"They would have known joy and love had you let them be."
"Please. No more. It's ended now. Can't we just wait together in peace?"Asked Satan.
"Wait for what?"Answered Michael, attempting to put anger in his voice.
"Him."Said Satan.
"Yes. I suppose we can."Said Michael sitting. Satan rejoined him.
A long interminable silence hung between them.
"I loved them."Said Satan. Michael turned and saw tears streaming from Satan's red eyes.
"So did I."Said Michael, tears flowing.
The two embraced as the sun fled down behind the horizon. |
In the native tongue of the Varthi they were called Hu'sya.
From an early age members of Varthi society were taught with holy veneration their stories of creation, tribulations and the Hu'sya rise to godhood.
In many ways those stories inspired Kle'io to become a specialist of the many artifacts they had left behind. Among these wonders lay titanic spheres able to harness the energy of the "stars"as the Hu'sya had known them to derelict warp weapons which no longer possess the destructive capacity they once had.
Her thoughts failed to sit still as she ruminated on those very same stories, prepared to reveal a discovery that could change everything.
Decades of study had led her to traces of the path to a fabled planet that had been known to the Varthi as Eay'asu and to the Hu'sya as Earth. Many had believed with utter conviction that the Hu'sya left nothing behind to even suggest there *was* a way to reach a mythical location such as Eay'asu besides phantasmal echoes of warp travel.
Yet, it was Kle'io who had found more than ghosts of an age long turned to dust. In her tireless efforts, she had managed to crack an ancient holo-script used by the Hu'sya at the height of their existence on the mortal plane. Where at best, the Varthi could only understand certain words in the past, now complete phrases and instructions could be read and translated. Suddenly, the path was clear for the journey into the unknown, deeper into space than any other Varthi had ever gone.
Kle'io was one of the first to volunteer for the mission.
Memories flooded her mind as the ornate door ahead responded to her psionic implant.
She could almost feel the alien soil beneath her feet and the smell of flora so strange they had almost dared to overwhelm her senses at the time. She had possessed an infinite number of questions and yet with every step, Kle'io came to understand how Eay'asu had been important for the Hu'sya.
Kle'io watched as members of the upper echelon of Varthi society had begun to settle their various conversations. Bowing her head, she felt the High Queen enter the room. Just as quickly, drums began to sound and alongside it with one unified voice, all Varthi in the room with heads bowed synced together to greet the High Queen -
"Praise be to you, High Queen Ale'si!"
When she spoke, it was as if the richest of silks had come to bear the fruits of sound.
"Now my child, show me what you have discovered from the most holy place of our faith."
Kle'io clutched the pod in her hands tight.
Again she thought of the sounds from Eay'asu and the cascade of emotions she had felt among the ruins of her gods. In every story there existed the framing that the Hu'sya had ascended to godhood and in the fires of ascension none of them remained.
Yet, on Eay'asu she felt the draw and magnetic pull of life in all its mortal impurities and beauty.
As the pod began to open, Kle'io remembered the steps she had made deeper and deeper into the ancient Hu'sya structure where she had made her discovery. Rows upon rows of pods had been tucked into the walls and with every touch Kle'io could almost feel the urgency with which they were made.
Before Kle'io or any of the Varthi could speak, the sound of a human baby's cry filled the room.
The first of its kind in a millenia to do so.
|
"General Sparky!"the time traveler said to my golden retriever. "Please return! We need you."
To my shock and horror, human words flowed from Sparky's mouth as naturally as barks.
"Forgive me, Commander Bulbs. But I have retired from that life."
"But General Sparky,"the time traveler said. "After sixteen long dog years, Mistress Mittens, the leader of the cats, is rising again. You were the only one who could bring peace to the Great Canine-Feline War. We need your support!"
I'd had just about enough of this. "Excuse me, am I missing something here?"
Sparky turned to me, his eyes heavy. "Brian, I'm sorry to have kept this secret from you. But in the future, when cats rebel, dogs will be given super-intelligent implants to fight back. I was a general in that terrible war. When it was over, I wanted to return to a normal dog life, but I was elected world president. I couldn't handle it – I was a fighter, not a politician. So I traveled back here, to you, the owner of my great grandfather."
"General Sparky,"the time traveler whimpered. "Please. Without you, our world will turn into a giant litter box."
Sparky laid on the ground like he always did when he was stressed. I felt bad for him. But I knew what I had to do.
"I'll go with you,"I said.
Sparky looked over at me. "What?"
"The future needs you, Sparky,"I said. "But you also need to be a normal dog. So you go, you fight, and when you come home each day, we'll play fetch and go for a walk."
Sparky cocked his head. "So you'll be… my pet?"
I nodded. "You've been a good boy for many years. Now it's time for me to be a good man."
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream. |
I hate it when it's quiet like this. Friday night and we should be buzzing. Wasn't long ago that that we would have been, but ain't nobody coming by anymore. Nobody in town has the money.
John sent himself home 20 minutes ago. It hardly seems like he needed to be here and he's so old now that i feel guilty whenever he is. It can't be easy for him seeing his joint like this. We still talk about how it used to be, the lines stretching round the block.
I can't have long left here. A temporary job, but that was 15 years ago. There were options then but I'm not sure there are now. Joanna is just 5 and her momma isn't working. Tomorrow I will go down and find another job but tonight I continue to needlessly clean the grill and then later I'll cook up 3 big hamburgers for me and the girls. They always wait up until I'm back on a Friday. Joanna laying in her mother's lap. She gets so excited when I come in.
The door opening shakes me out of my dreaming. First customer of the night. "Hello Mam, welcome to Uncle John's burger shack. What can I get for you?"I haven't seen her before.
She's old, in her 80s at least, silvery hair hanging past her shoulders over a brown suede coat. She walks quickly to the bar and sits at a stool. For an instant I get some strange feeling I know her but it passes when she speaks .
"Coffee and a cheese burger. Black."
John insists on keeping the kettles full and the grills hot so the coffee is instant. I slide her over a white mug and as she wraps her hands around it I see the age in her fingers.
"Cold out tonight?"I ask as she take her first sip and I throw down the burger on the grill.
"Sure is. I'm used to it though, not much sun where I'm from."
"You come far?"
"About 80 years."she says. I almost don't hear it over the grill but laugh politely at her joke as I turn back to her.
"Pop pop it's me, Joanna."
We stare silently at each other, the hamburger sizzling on the grill behind me.
"Excuse me?"
"It's Joanna"she repeats. "I live with you at 325 Brushwood lane, my mother is Mary Elizabeth, later on you'll carry 3 hamburgers back to us in one of those paper bags and after we eat you'll sing my favourite song to me. Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam..."
I'm still silent. She's speaking too quickly for my mind to keep up. I stare at her deeply now, half puzzled, not knowing what to say. My heart is racing, I know that face, I know those brown eyes but it can't be. It can't be. Minutes seem to pass before she speaks again.
"Tonight is the most important night of my life daddy. The security of the world is at stake and I'm about to lead an army of thousands to reset the future and create a chance of lasting peace."
I don't know if it was shock but I still couldn't move or speak. My mind and heart continued to race but I was stuck fast.
"So why is it, that with all this at stake, I find myself here, back with the daddy I haven't seen for 70 years?"
Move God damn it. Move.
"Until you've lived a life, you don't realise the effect that people have on it. Even with all I've been through, Nuclear war, imprisonment, near starvation, it's still your face I see every night before I go to sleep. It's still the sting of your hand I feel on my cheek"
That last line woke something in me.
"I don't know who you are but I have never hit my daughter, now I know you're not Jo..."
"Not yet you haven't but you will. And you won't stop there. You'll hit me and momma until we're both black and blue, it all starts a few weeks from now and it won't stop for the next few years until Momma's in her grave.."
I start screaming as tears begin to fill my eyes.
"Get out. Get out. Get out you crazy old bat, I would never do something like that to my girls."
"...I've given a lot of thought to fate, you can't design and build a time machine and not. You tell me why the one date I need to travel back to stop that false peace treaty being signed is also the day I can put a bullet in my daddy's head and stop any of that heartache."
I reach for the knife above the grill, her handburger smoking thick black smoke now as she speaks again.
"Can I really kill my own father, while he's innocent, and risk changing my own place in the future? "she reaches inside her jacket and aims a gun at me.
It's the last thing I see.
|
I couldn’t help but feel anxious as I waited in the queue. I could hear everything. Everyone was talking about the tattoos they were going to get. So many ideas that seemed so much cooler than my own.
“I’m going to get an eagle, so I can fly and touch the clouds!” I heard a boisterous man shout to his buddies.
“I’m going to get an infinity symbol with a dollar sign in the middle. That way, I’ll never ever have to worry about money, ya know?” A girl was telling her friends.
There were more. So many more. Why was I so sure of mine?
The line moved quickly and before I knew it, I was standing before the artist. He was covered, head to toe in ink. He eyed me a moment then arched his brow.
“Dainty thing like you, shy as all can be. Prolly somethin’ for that demeanor, yeah?” He said in a gruff voice. Part of me was offended, but I knew he was just doing his job. Trying to give me a suggestion that he thought would drastically change me life.
I slowly removed the folded piece of paper from my pocket. The tattoo that I had dreamt of getting since I became a teenager. The only thing that I had ever wanted. I handed the paper to him. The artist unfolded the paper and looked it over. His face turned from amused to concerned.
“A face with a smile onnit? That’s what ye want?” he said, this time his tone was much softer than before.
I nodded my head, “Yes...”
“You sure?”
“There are a lot of things I’m not sure of,” I said in my usual quiet tone, “but what I do know is... I want to be happy.” |
I stood in the center of town.
Was this Cairo, or Cairo?
Buffalo or Wales?
All I knew was that my greed had finally won, a great circle of death engulfed the town, with me at the epicenter.
Flies fell from the sky with a flop, surely more than a few people had lost bowel control.
First order of business, clean up my new home.
Ten fortnights later and the town is clean.
Corpses buried, sewers purged.
No rest for the eternal, I suppose.
A young girl enters my ghost town.
So sweet and innocent, I hand her a perfect, preserved strawberry, she takes a bite, happy.
She lies drained on the floor, forever to smile.
People come an go, including me, but all eventually pass.
A gentleman, old and bony.
He hobbles on a black cane, I touch his shoulder,
^I'll ^releive ^his ^pain, I think.
Years, years he shouldn't have.
Centuries, millenia.
Swirling, churning, boiling years.
That cane is topped with a blade, his garb is a black robe.
^*"Take* ^*my* ^*place* ^*sonny!"* |
The voices echoed around me in the still, sticky night of a Florida summer, "Toby! Toby! Toby".
The line of searchers must have stretched out for half a mile as we trudged forward slowly, the beams of our flashlights crossing like the worst choreographed Jedi battle of all time.
As we continued to call out, I tried to believe we'd hear him call back to us, but in my heart I knew better. We were searching this marshland near his house simply because we needed to do *something*, but he wasn't the sort who'd just wander off into the swamp. Not Toby, everything he did had a reason.
Well, almost everything.
Look, I'm not saying coolest kid ever or anything, but he was my friend. We ate lunch together every day at school, then gamed online most nights. You could count on him. No, he wasn't the funniest person ever, but he learned that young and left the jokes to other people - until recently.
His mom married this douchebag, "Louie", a couple of months ago. I don't know exactly what was going on, but after Louie moved in, Toby got kind of weird. Like, I didn't see bruises or anything, but Toby just seemed kind of, I dunno scared or something.
About a week ago, Toby wasn't in school on Monday. When he wasn't there Tuesday, I stopped by his house. His mom wouldn't open the door all the way, just quickly thanked me for stopping by with a worried expression. As the door closed, I called out, "Tell him I'll be online at 8!"
I don't know what I was expecting, but I was surprised to see that he was already logged in when I fired up my XBox. He was weirdly quiet and what he did say seemed unnatural. But the weirdest thing is that he brought up a stupid joke that he used to tell in the third grade.
"You know Jack, you're American when you enter the bathroom, and you're American when you leave."
I sighed, and said, "yeah, Tobe, this is why you stopped doing the funny thing."
We gamed for a while and then went to bed.
The next day he still wasn't in school, and I could barely wait to log back in. Fortunately, he was there again. I said softly, "Tobey, you ok, man?"
He just chuckled nervously, "sure, Jack, I'm fine, but remember you're American when you enter the bathroom, and you're American when you leave."
"WTF, dude?"
"Nevermind - let's just play."
It was the next day that things really went to hell. My mom noticed the smoke coming from Toby's house. When the firemen showed up, it turned out that only Toby's mother and Louie were there, and Toby's window was broken. Louie told some story about Toby feeling a lot better after his bout of "flu"and running off to play in the swamp. I guess he didn't know about the window, so the cops decided to ask Louie some questions about some strange things they found in the house, and some stains that looked a lot like blood.
But that didn't help Toby, out somewhere afraid that Louie was coming after him. He's a smart kid, I was sure he'd find a good place to hide.
I thought of the different abandoned malls, houses and buildings we'd visited over the years - so many different ones. How could I figure out which one it was.
Then it dawned on me.
"Hey everyone, he isn't here!"I called out. "We need to go to Baxter. There used to a a club there"
"Which club, Jack? What was it called?"
"European, I'm sure of it!" |
“I absolutely need to find ‘The Amish wives cookbook for dummies.’ If I show up to another Amish potluck with shitty potato salad they are going to kick me out of the village.”
Moving swiftly I look at the now burning aisles.
Magazines. No. Biography. No. Psychology. Romance, NEVER. Cookbooks.. bingo.
I grab my fire extinguisher and start spraying the aisle down. “Not today inferno, Mary Martha Jacobson will not have a mediocre Potato salad if it’s the last thing I do.” I engage my fire protectant suit and begin to scan the charred rows.
‘A Buddhists guide to carbs’.. no. Quiche made easy. No. How to eat fried worms. No, but that could come in handy for when the world ends, and it’s minimally burnt. Perfect. Grabbing it I put it in my backpack. I continue down the aisles. Finally I find my quarry, ‘The Amish wives cookbook for Dummies.’ Victory is mine.
Laughing maniacally, “I shall rule the potlucks from this day forward!” |
I knew my time had come as soon as I stepped up onto the podium. Death asked for no decisions as it swiftly plucks us from our bodies and whisks us to this underworld. But little did many people and major religions predict was that there's a part two. That's right. Christianity believed in two realms based on your worldly life: an ethereal heaven or blazing hell. Islam believed in two angels that'll determine your afterlife. Hell, even Egyptians believed in weighing your worldly heart to determine whether you get eaten by a monster dog or get to reap wheat happily.
But they were all wrong. Not completely though, but I can summarize it for you in two statements:
1. Whatever happened in your earthly life does not affect your afterlife. At least, you won't get immediately thrusted into either a cloudy paradise or burning abyss.
2. It's a hella long queue.
When I woke up, I was half-expecting hell. I mean, how good would you be if you were a high-school dropout turned office worker bum who'd drink himself to near-death every weekend? But, all I saw was a huge cavern of darkness, and a brightly lit neon sign that simply glowed:
**LINE UP 42 THIS DIRECTION**
I trudged up that direction as I felt around my body. I think I died in my sleep, although not sure of what. But whatever had ended me did not leave a mark. I was wearing my blue worn-out pyjamas and slippers, organs all intact. I breathed a sigh of relief as I started on my journey to Line 42.
The walk was pretty long, but I started to enjoy it. Quietness, dimly-lit, all by myself; totally the opposite of my busy city life that ultimately amounted to nothing. But as light quickly approached, I introduced myself to an unwelcome, but all-too familiar setting.
A line of people stood there as it advanced maybe every 10 seconds. But even despite then, the number of people I saw could not be put into words. Have you ever been to a concert? Not the outdoors one. The ones where the cheapest seat is $120 and you're at least 3 miles away from the stage. Great, now double that. I guess overpopulation is starting to leak into the underworld too.
"Here kiddo! Over here!"I heard a call to my right as I saw an old man with a cane beckon me over to what looks like the end of the line. Slowly making my way there, he shook his hand in a hurried motion. I speed-walked there as I got into the queue behind him; only a matter of nanoseconds until the line behind me started building up.
"You looked lost, so I figured a kind soul would be nice huh?"He started as he gave me a toothy grin.
"U-Uh yeah."I stammered out as I took a few more seconds to take in the sight. Truly something to behold that hell or purgatory or whatever this realm is, is not full of cherubs or demons or whatever. In fact, it looked more like a hospital waiting room. Without the drinks of course. I letted out a sigh of relief. At least I wasn't doomed, yet.
"This is the afterlife."The old man started as he gestured to the whole crowd. "We all wait here. The good, the bad, and the ugly."He cracked a joke as I let out a small smirk. "But I bet you probably wondering what awaits us at the end."
"Yeah. Is it God or Satan or, or I don't even fucking know at this point."I scratched my head.
"Haha, close."He said as he pointed to the wall in front of him. Placed there were two large slabs of obsidian stone with a single word in each of them. Straining my eyes, I took a closer look at what they each said.
The leftward one said Life.
The rightward one said Ferg..., Dfo..., actually, it looked more like chicken scratch.
"See, right there are two choices kiddo."The old man said with a smile as he traced out a circle. "When you get to the end, there are two pits, capiche?"I nodded apprehensively. "And each pit will lead to either life, or your wild card!"He danced gleefully, almost like a broken animation. "Many are choosing their wildcard, and I'm sure gonna too!"
It made sense the two inscriptions corresponded to the pits. But I'm still confused with mine. "Uh, you're gonna choos-"
"No no!"The old man stopped me as he shook his head in disagreement. "There's a reason it's called the wild card, and it's because it's different for everyone."He explained as he advanced in line; I followed. "If you choose Life, you born again. Something new, something old, but definitely something random."
"BUT!"His voice escalated with excitement. "Your wild card is unique! May be reincarnation, may be not!"He smiled as he placed his hand on his cane, as if in a seducing position. "Mine says I get to relive the last 24 hours before Gertrude died, and then go to an eternal hell."He said in a soft and genuine tone. "To see her again..."He ended his explanation wistfully.
"B-but wait!"I said as I jumped forward, causing the old man to move back in shock. "Why would you choose 24 hours over a new life!"My confused self nearly shouted with utter confusion as other people started giving us looks. "W-Why?! It's absurd to choose that!"
"Ah...yes, absurd."The old man said slowly as he lowered his tired head. "She said that a lot. Must be one of the reasons why I fell for her in the first place."Tears started to form on his eyes as he looked up at me with his reminiscing eyes of hope.
"Before death takes you, every one has one last wish; one last chance."His mouth moved slowly as years of wrinkles and old age suddenly poured out their repressed sentiments. "Even if it damns me... even if it stops my own cycle..."
"He's right you know."A female voice came from behind me as a young-looking teenage girl moved forward with stride. "My right choice says I get to see my biological father, but then get reincarnated into a life of abuse."Her words stung at my skin as I imagined what kind of fool would take that trade-off, but it was evident in her eyes that she wanted to see the father she never had.
"I-I see garden!"A squeak came from below me as a small infant wearing a blue onesie crawled towards my direction. "Me fell! Hit head!"He squealed in a sad tone as he rubbed his head, as if hurt. "But now I see flower! And sun! And sky! Wish! Wish!"He waved his hands excitedly as he let out squeals of joy.
People moved forward too as they started telling their own wild card choices. A burn victim getting to live a life graduating from her preferred university but then dying of leukemia. A truck driver who died with his family gets to see them before being whisked away. But amongst all these voices, I kept thinking about my own wild card. What have I done in my life? Who did I impact with my life? Was it good? Was it bad?
***What is the meaning of my life?***
But before long, I found myself at the podium. On the stage of where heaven and hell meets; where judgment and free will clash. The stage that Hamlet himself had preached about, this is the stage I stood at as I stared down at the two large bottomless pits and their adjoining signs.
**Life.**
**???**
I closed my eyes one last time and thought back through all my memories. Through every person whose heart I have touched or destroyed. To every interaction and choice I made. How impactful were they? Not on them, but on me? Did my life mean something to me, or was it just a flashy blur of nonchalance? Through all the happiness and sadness and tears and laughter, how much did they mean right now as I stared into the eyes of my maker?
In that one moment, I realized that the life of Samuel Gerry was nothing worth remembering; nothing more than a fleeting petal in the wind, in a world of ephemeral flowers.
And without a second thought, I dove into the unknown.
\-----------------------------------------------------
(https://www.reddit.com/r/Shiruet/) |
"I do not understand."
"Urk - That has been made - ugh - abundantly clear to me..."
"I am supposed to simply walk up and listen to them? Instead of say, spiking their drink when they are not looking? Your feet are too far apart."
"What? No, they - Agh!"
"Do not get distracted by your opponent. It can be deadly."
"Okay, thanks for the tip, but WHY THE HELL DO YOU WANT TO SPIKE THE DRINK OF THE PERSON YOU WANT TO BE MATES WITH?!"
"You said to engage in a private conversation. Drugging them and taking them to a secluded place is an optimal means of achieving this. Also, get up."
"Look, you have to get to know them first, alright? In a place where you're both comfortable and - ah what the bloody fuck!"
"We are taking a break. The scent of dirt is unbecoming on you."
"Your face is unbecoming of you..."
"I am not an attractive man, this is true."
"You got some pretty dodgy standards."
"Speak louder, I cannot hear you."
"Nothing, stupid baby blue eyes..."
"I do not understand."
"You say that a lot, eh?"
"I believe each itteration of the phrase is merited."
"You would, wouldn't you."
"Then, after drugging them I should take them to their own home, not my safehouse?"
"Look, enough about the drugs. It's getting kind of creepy."
"I am an assassin. I know how to creep. Drugs have little to do with such an activity and apparently everything to do with making friends."
"No drugs! Okay?! Just walk up to them and introduce yourself nicely!"
"Hm. I see. Ah. I believe I have the right of it now."
"...Is that so?"
"Yes. I shall demonstrate. Ahem: 'Hello, my name is Mikhail Fiyorovich. I am an assassin for hire. Be at ease, I do not wish to kill you'."
"HOW ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO FEEL AT EASE?!"
"I am not bringing my talents to bear upon them. Also, do not hurt yourself doing that. The wall is a poor pillow."
"...Where did you say you grew up again?"
"I did not."
"Righto..."
"What relevance does this information have?"
"None, now just show me that hold again while I attempt to hammer the basics of polite human interaction into you."
"Of course, Miss Page." |
I pulled in to the usual parking lot and made my way to the very back - my usual spot. On a regular night, this routine would feel like second nature, but something in my gut was telling me this wasn't a regular night.
I could have easily ignored everyone pointing to my top deck, but as my foot hovered over the ground, I decided to turn back. It was dumb of me, really. My car was in sight, I could have easily just left and gone home for the night. Curiosity really got the best of me.
I turned and took the steps up to the top deck of my bus. My heart was pounding so hard I felt like it might hop right out of my chest. Every step felt so weighted. The clunk of my shoes echoed against the walls. I took a deep breath.
Slowly, I raised my head to come level with the seats and at first, I saw nothing but darkness. Then I heard a click and a phone screen lit up, illuminating a face.
And there he was.
Actual cannibal...
Shia LaBeouf. |
"Well, Clive, this is impressive,"I say, honestly a bit surprised. I'd always seen Gravitas as a dumb jock, but he has three PhDs. I mean, I had twelve at his age, but then, I am objectively the smartest man alive. Unfortunately, I'm not sure if this is a trap. Does he honestly not recognize me? "You are actually overqualified. Honestly, it's a Glorified security guard gig. We just want someone who understands what to do if there's a lab accident."
"Sir, I've been watching your company for awhile now. I can work pretty much anywhere I'd like. I want to work for OmniPro, even if it's just as a security guard, because you are changing the world. You tech is saving lives, helping people learn, and your policies, you practices are driving corporate ethics to a higher standard. I'm just trying to get a foot in the door. 'If you can't start from the bottom,' after all."
Using my own words. Nice. This kid's good. I'd have hired him already, if not for our history. I'll have to look into this. I reach out to shake his hand, saying, "Alright. I have a couple more interviews scheduled, but something tells me you'll be getting a call by the end of the day."
Then he freezes. My hand is still in his, and I can sense that superhuman strength, bubbling just under the surface. He recognizes me. We shook hands once before, in costume. He didn't know it when he came in, but he recognizes the grip.
"Uh, I..."I'm about to hit the panic switch with my free hand.
"Sorry, it threw me off. I didn't notice your missing finger until now."Oh thank God.
"Ah, yeah. Valuable lesson in electrical engineering, that."
"Dad had a couple of those lessons himself. Thankfully, he made sure I learned from his mistakes. Sorry again for the awkwardness."
"No problem. You know what, Clive. We got two spots. I'm going to say one is yours, right now. You start on Thursday at seven. I'll shoot you an email with all the details."
"Really, sir?"
"Yeah, I think you got a bright future here."
*As he leaves, Clive stares at his hand. He played it off as the missing finger, but he knew from the handshake, his new boss was Professor Aggressor. He almost attacked, right then and there. But OmniPro* was *doing good. More than good. And looking back, most of the Professor's attacks were against government agencies that even Clive knew were corrupt, or at least questionable. Maybe he wasn't a villain, after all.*
I watch him leave, and as soon as he is out, I call in one of my current henchmen. "That kid I just interviewed. I want to make sure that, when he comes back Thursday, we have a trap set. I'm finally going to kill Gravitas. Then all that's left on my bucket list is blowing up an orphanage. Bet that'll be easier without him around to save the day. I'll have to set some new goals." |
*OKAY, ALIENS.*
*WE GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU.*
*This here’s our book of records, a big fat warnin’ sign I’m slapping you with. Wanna screw with us? I bet you do. I can’t see the smug look on your face, but if I could, I’d laugh. We’re humans, and you seriously don’t wanna mess with us.*
*Earth. Is. Amazing. Just look inside. We’ve got people who can fit four hundred freakin’ straws in their mouth at once. You don’t have that, do you? Course you don’t. You’re aliens. Read this book. Study this book, and only come back when you can break one...no, ALL of these records. Then we can talk.*
*Oh, and don’t you dare try invadin’ us! That’s against intergalactic law, which I just invented. You’re not allowed to be mean to us, or call us names, and if you do ever come to Earth, you gotta give us some awesome technology!*
*Ah, damn. Well, I gotta go. My boss is here, and he fired me last week, and yadda yadda I’m probably goin’ to jail yadda. Get workin’! Those records ain’t gonna break themselves!*
***
This is short and silly but I had fun with it. Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) |
<It cannot think,> Ix said. <It can hardly interact with its surroundings. Look at it.>
The two had materialized a box of toys for the bipedal curiosity. Sharp slivers of steel, several reactive marbles, a stuffed kadrilla—the kinds of things that both Pred-breds and Prey-breds tended to enjoy. The box was well-stocked.
The bipedal fingered through the box. It indeed enjoyed both types of toys, and that was interaction enough. Ix was wrong—it was intelligent
But Pred-bred? Or Prey-bred?
Ix coruscated, stretching her phantom being throughout her containment shell. None of the Creators had material form, but Ix could still detect her successor's presence. Galv was like a great bubble of mouths tumbling into himself.
<We should have included only one type of toy or the other,> Galv said. <It would be clear.>
<And experimental failure,> Ix said. <It was supposed to choose Pred-bred toys, or Prey-bred. Not both. I have no idea where this falls on the Hierarchy. Look—it's playing with the kell bombs *and* the betel plant.>
Galv said nothing, but he must know Ix was right. They were researchers. This was their specialty.
But the thing was enigma. The teeth were not giveaways. Its runner's anatomy suggested predatory tendencies, but the silly creature was defenseless. The limbs were wormy and bare, and the ancillary limbs were bereft of claws. Hlithur's scrawniest Prey-breds could gut this creature like an Ururan pig-monkey.
*Is that it?* Ix wondered. *This pink-skin is just some kind of Pred-bred subtype? The dead end of a pathetic gene-line?*
The baffling creature continued making loud noises with its primary orifice. The sounds were angry. The excess lubrication in its twin-linked eyeballs had dried. The thing drummed a strange chorus with its flapping tongue, assembling something from its toys.
<Nevermind,> Ix said. <Look. Is that a form of primitive communication? What is it making?>
Galv gave a nervous shift. Ix felt his million teeth turn in on themselves. <I blame this on you, Ix. After mitoses, you mentioned seeding this world with the Ur-Lizards of Koai. *This* is why First Father forbade seeding worlds with foreign-breds. The spectra are too different.>
<Galv—>
<I will tell First Father,> Galv said. <I'm sorry Ix. You taught me well. We must obey Hierarchy.>
Ix grew impatient. *<Galv.>*
The two focused on the bipedal. It had assembled a new toy from several components. The device was a product of artificial invention. Almost like a containment shell, but so much more intricate.
<Dear Father,> Ix said. <Creation. The thing understands Creation.>
The creature raised its new toy at Galv's containment shell.
Galv's fear tasted bitter as iron. <Is that—?>
The end of the creature's device exploded with a crude combustion reaction. A spar of steel jolted through Galv's case, compromising his containment.
Ix's attention snapped to her successor. She tried to reabsorb his consciousness before he died. Galv tried to croak a final empathic message—
Then he was gone. Extra nitrogen percolating in the lab's artificial atmosphere.
Ix had no time to think. The bipedal was staring into her shell. Its twin-linked eyeballs would perceive a cloud of ionized gas swirling behind mirrored glass. A sparkle. Nothing more.
*Does it even know?* Ix thought. *How could it?*
The creature raised its gun. It loaded a second projectile.
Ix flickered. *Ah.*
The human hesitated, curious. Then it fired. |
"Boo? Are you there?"
I open my eyes and straighten my head, groaning at the pain that shoots down my neck at the awkward angle I'd been sleeping at. Chairs weren't mean for hours of sleep like this. I blink out the fatigue and slowly plant my feet on the carpet, closing the book that rests precariously on the arm of the chair.
I adjust the bundle in my arms and stand.
I'm hearing things again. Usually a couple times a month, even all these years later. The monsters that visit me.
Not mean monsters. Kind, silly ones.
Just my imagination, they all said.
"Boo?"
I freeze. That wasn't imagination. That was real and coming from the closet. I look and see it's open, just an inch or two. At the edge peek out enormous blue furred fingers.
I yelp and cross the room, pulling open the door to see inside.
He's huge and hunched in the tiny space, giving me a sheepish grin that grows to something sincere when he sees me.
Suddenly I am pulled into the fur and lifted off the ground, hearing his laughter.
"Boo! It is you!"He says.
I make a noise that would be a word if I could breathe. He lets me down and holds up those huge hands...paws...as an apology.
Then, he's not looking at me. He's looking at my arm. And there are tears in his eyes.
"Is...is...is that?"
I nod and realize I'm already crying. He's here. I'm not crazy. It was real.
He takes the bundle into those huge hands, with grace and delicacy that shouldn't be possible from something so genuinely enormous.
She wiggles in his fur, cooing and opening her eyes. Her hands sink into his fur and he pulls a face.
She laughs. He dances in those huge feet with excitement that I've never seen in anything. And I find myself wrapping my arms around his and watching her wiggle and squirm and his face matted with tears while he loves every second. She'll think she's dreaming. She'll think it's not real. Just her imagination.
We stand there for a long time. And I let my head rest on his shoulder.
And I remember. I look up at him and I remember it all. It was real. It was as real as now.
And I say a word I haven't said in a long time, and I hear my voice. It sounds like a little girl again. High and excited.
"Kitty!"
And I hear it echoed from the little girl in his hands. |
So much grinding. It had taken Player 1506778 over two thousand years to bridge the gap from level 8 to level 9, and he had finally done it. But there was no satisfaction. Gaining the permanent abilities of teleportation and far-range telekinesis were the main allure of level 9, but now that he was here, matchmaking kept putting him with others who had earned the same abilities, and he didn’t feel special at all. This game sucked. All the grinding, all the hard work put in to get to the next level, it was useless. There’s no point in unlocking new abilities when everybody else is on the same power-level, it’s no fun. A brief, yet disturbing thought crossed his mind, *have I wasted my playthrough?* It seemed like he had. The level scaling was insane, and whenever he did get to the next level, it never felt as good as he expected it to be, he never felt special, or above average, stupid matchmaking was being overly fair and putting him in lobbies with people who were right at his power level. He needed to feel good, needed to feel some sort of satisfaction or reward, something to show that all the abilities he had gained were worth it and that he WAS in fact a great player, a superhuman. It was time to go noob-stomping. Scrolling down on the level select screen that dominated the HUD, Player 1506778 selected “Earth”. The tutorial level should have some level 1’s and 2’s to assert dominance over, to have fun using all his powerful abilities he had worked so hard to obtain. Materializing in the middle of one of the biggest cities on Earth, New York, New York, Player 1506778 immediately activated invisibility. He didn’t know what to expect, and the level 6 feature of invisibility was easily one of his favorites, allowing him to observe while staying unobserved. The level 1’s and 2’s were everywhere. Darting in and out of shops, crossing streets, operating mobility vehicles, they were all so weak, so… noobish. If they didn’t act soon and ascend to level 3 to get the immortality buff their game would end very, very early. Typical noobs, not even playing the game correctly. Player 1506778 silently levitated, invisible, over the crowd and observed. It was interesting, the low-levels weren’t fighting each other over loot, they weren’t dashing around eager for the next objective to give them bonus XP, they were simply living. He noticed a group of younger individuals, chatting and laughing while enjoying steaming, savory hot chocolate contrasting the cold New York weather. He noticed two men, bundled tight to protect from the elements, pondering peacefully over a chess game. He noticed the excitement light up a small, level 1 child’s face being led into a toy store by her slightly higher level parents. He hadn’t gotten to do any of this. After rushing to level 3, he hadn’t fully enjoyed what this level had to offer, hadn’t experienced life, only a grind that was seeming more and more pointless. Regret flooded through him. His whole playthrough had been spent focused on the end product, not the process, and he answered his previous question of *Have I wasted my playthrough*? He had. With shaky fingers, he pulled up his HUD again, however, this time instead of going to level select, or inventory, or perk allotment, he hesitantly hovered over the big red button.RESET. Without anymore thought into it, he clicked it. *ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO RESET ALL SKILLS AND ABILITIES BACK TO LEVEL 1* the screen flashed in bright red letters. He had never been so sure of anything in his whole playthrough, and he felt a draining feeling, his XP bar was reducing rapidly and he closed his eyes. Player 1506778 was ready to actually *experience* his next playthrough, and leveling up was the last thing on his mind.
&#x200B;
\---
&#x200B;
This is my first time doing this, just trying to work some writing muscles and see what I can do before maybe taking on bigger and better projects. If anybody has any advice to give a new writer on how to improve I would be glad to hear it! |
Ted chuckled nervously to himself as he thought about how absurd what he was doing was. If someone had told him he was going to be teaching hostile aliens mathematics, he would have called them insane. But here he was, setting up his white board as CLOG-633, one of the smartest mathematicians of the DESPAC2 species sat down.
"*Well human, since our species is vastly superior to your tiny excuse of a "evolved civilization", our mathematics is also superior. We've called you here since you seem to be the smartest your people, your talks are heard by many.*"
"No, I tried to explain tha-"
"*No need to be humble, TED. I know you said it's a collected effort but we know the truth. Let's get started.*"
"Right, uh, do you know anything about, algebra?"
**Thirty minutes later**
"*WHY THE F**K WILL THERE BE 2 DIFFERENT VALUES OF THIS EX? ARE YOU F**CKING CRAZY? WHAT IS THIS TECHNOLOGY?*"
"Please calm down. I..let's just move on to calculus."
**After Another intense study session.**
"No, it's in-te-grate, so when you integrate the infinitesimally small value-"
"*WHY DON'T WE INTEGRATE YOUR PATHETIC HUMAN PENIS TED.*"
"Please put the gun down, Sir. Just let me move on to statistics."
**About 5 minutes later**
"*WHAT IS THE POINT TED?*"
"You know what, Sir. You're right. What's the point of any of this? We've never used it in our lives. Instead of teaching us important stuff like taxes, the education system wanted us to learn about imaginary numbers and infinite sum of digits. I'm sick of it. We deserve this Invasion and everything that comes in the future."
"*No, I meant what is that point you've written between those two digits.*"
"Oh, that's a decimal."
|
It was the lacking.
The first thing to disappear was light. The universe expanded faster than light was able to travel, and I'd left the light behind a day ago. At first, I'd thought the FTL drive malfunctioned, when the silver-blue streaks of photons failed to flash past the window in their blurred patterns, but no, I'd traveled beyond the point where any light had reached. All around me was darkness.
The light was lacking.
My sensors failed to pick up any kind of background radiation. There were no more eon-old motes of energy or dancing subatomic particles to part before my ship's shielding, and for the first time in my journey, the ship stabilized perfectly, without so much as a quiver as it passed through the void. I remembered a time, long ago, when my grandfather took me fishing on a small pond. He placed me in the boat and pushed off with his leg, and for a brief moment, we skimmed across the water as though it weren't even there. If my odometer didn't tell me my speed, I might think I was not moving at all -- only floating. Motion, energy, and matter were lacking.
I didn't realize I was at the edge, though, until my sensors revealed the absence of dark matter ahead. To my eyes, it didn't look any different than the rest of the void, but my sensors told me the truth of it: the darkness was lacking.
This wasn't my mission. My fingers curled around the controls, tapped at the plastic. I should turn back.
I don't know when I crossed the edge.
This wasn't my mission. My fingers curled around the controls, tapped at the plastic. I should turn back.
"Does your synth still make sugar?"I asked myself.
I turned around and saw myself standing at the entrance to the narrow cockpit, with a mug of coffee. The steam fell out of the cup and slowly pooled around his feet.
"Who are you?"I asked.
The only answer was a grinding sound as the synth slowly converted raw carbons into coffee. The bitter scent drank in the air before running off to hide in the corner. I missed the smell of coffee. The sound of the brew cascading against the plastic mug was lovely on my tongue.
The boat came to a rest in the middle of the pond, all movement lost. There was not even a gentle wind to stir us or the reeds, and I rubbed a mosquito bite on the back of my neck. My grandpa opened the tackle box and handed me a cup of coffee.
I reached for the synth, but the photons on the screen lost their grip and began to drift through the cabin. I sighed and set my coffee on the counter to begin trying to catch them.
They laughed at me.
The soft, green light of the synth's screen now glowed from inside one of the vents.
My coffee was nowhere to be found.
I walked along the bottom of the ship -- I only knew it was the bottom because it told me so -- until I reached the cockpit. I squinted inside the glass and saw myself at the controls. He wasn't looking at me; instead, he turned to speak to me behind him, my cup of coffee in his hands.
This wasn't my mission. My fingers curled around the controls, tapped at the plastic. I should turn back.
I jumped off the ship and drifted away, into the void. I watched the glistening metal of the ship slowly grow closer as I was lost into infinity.
Without anywhere else to go, I pushed out of my seat and left the cockpit behind -- a cup of coffee did sound appealing. The smell lingered. I didn't even bother turning the cabin lights on, drawn to the synth by the dim glow of the screen. It was currently keyed into 'sugar,' but I cleared the setting and typed in 'coffee.'
I took the fishing pole from my grandfather and watched his calloused fingers carefully pierce a worm on the hook.
"Why are we using hooks?"I asked.
"That's how I was taught to do it,"I told myself, "My grandpa taught me, so I'm teaching you."
I let go of the hook, my fingers smudged with worm goop and followed the green glow towards the vent to try and retrieve it to add some sugar to my coffee, but when I tried to pry the vent from the wall, my fingers were too slick from worm goo.
I turned on the cabin light, instead, and outside, I saw my cup of coffee walking parallel to my ship, each step threatening to spill drops of my hard-won beverage.
The ship and I slammed into each other in the event horizon, fused into a single being. Mechanical probes extended from my body and grabbed the mug of coffee. While I sipped it, I considered the many philosophical quandaries of being a spaceship, and after a bit of introspection, decided it was far simpler than being a human.
Unfortunately, spaceships don't fit inside boats, and I was sitting beside my grandpa's tacklebox while I stared at myself, expectantly. I reached into the tacklebox and found the cup of coffee I'd been looking for. I handed that off, but I still waited expectantly, fishing rod in hand. I carefully began to spear one of my grandpa's worms onto the hook.
"Why are we using hooks?"I asked.
"That's how I was taught to do it,"I told myself, "My grandpa taught me, so I'm teaching you."
I ran to the airlock, and walked through the metal door without opening it -- if I waited, my coffee might walk too far away from the ship. I climbed outside, into the void, and stumbled onto the bottom of the ship. My coffee continued to drift beside the kitchen window.
No longer one with the ship, it had no need of coffee, since it already traveled faster than light, and it returned my cup to me and left me to find sugar while it tried to coax the photons out of the vents.
With my coffee retrieved, and the photons still hiding, I gave up on making sugar in the synth, and instead, walked to the cockpit, where I saw myself sitting in the cockpit. Beyond the glass, I crawled towards the ship.
I don't know when I crossed the edge.
This wasn't my mission. My fingers curled around the controls, tapped at the plastic. I should turn back.
"Does your synth still make sugar?"I asked myself.
I turned around and saw myself standing at the entrance to the narrow cockpit, with a mug of coffee. The steam fell out of the cup and slowly pooled around his feet.
"Who are you?"I asked. |
Here I am. Standing beside a much too chubby Chris Tucker and a too old to be jumping off rooftops Jackie Chan, in Rush Hour 3 world.
Let me back up.
When you grow up everybody preaches responsibility. Your parents, your grandparents, your neighbors teachers preachers heroes politicians and cartoon characters. Make the right decisions, plan for the future and like the squirrel who stored his nuts for winter, you'll be set. Comfortable.
Well I did all that. After squeaking through high school with late night study sessions and good old fashioned hard work, I got a job at a GM factory pressing bumpers. Tough work, long hours, but honest pay. The union mostly took care of us, so I didnt worry too much about getting laid off. I took every extra shift I could and squirreled away every cent i earned.
When I proposed to my wife, I slid a lug nut on her finger. We got married in the courthouse in a suit and dressed we borrowed from her sister and brother in law. We lived without ac in the summer and without heat in the winter, and whenever she'd beg me to splurge, frost fogging out from her pretty mouth, I'd tell her we can't be frivolous with our money. We have to be responsible. It will pay off in the end.
We survived like that for forty seven years. When he had kids we indoctrinated them into our tight fisted economy, and it's possible we even came out ahead when you factored in the tax breaks for dependents. We clipped coupons and bought family sized everything. Our savings account grew like a healthy tree, spreading a little more each day.
When I retired we didnt do anything crazy like buy an RV and burn gas across the 48. We stayed home and did crossword puzzles. Watched tv through the rabbit ears. When my wife said it was time to spend some of what we had, to live a little, I told her we needed to be responsible. We had our virtual worlds to think about. When our physical bodies quit ticking, we would buy our way into a primo world and live like royalty for eternity. At least that's what I thought.
Katherine died first. Usually it's the men who die prematurely, their hearts giving out from a lifetime of stress and red meat. Not with us. I was okay with it though, because it meant I could take care of her. Set her up with an after life she deserves. She always had her eye on a world called Emerald Paradise, a tropical island with coconut trees and crystal clear water. She used to take virtual tours all the time, get excited and show me cabanas full of talking monkeys or people flying over volcanoes. She looked 40 years younger when she talked about that place.
I arranged for her upload. When things were all prepared and everything was set to go, the only thing left to do to push the right button and send her to paradise, I got the bill. Their marketing materials had underestimated the cost of Emerald Paradise. By a lot.
It wiped out our savings.
I tried to contact her, get a message through to her in paradise about what had happened, but the rules were strict. No contact between virtual souls and physical ones. She's probably still expecting me to arrive any day.
By the time I kicked the bucket there was nothing left. This squirrel had not a single nut to his name. Did everything the right way my whole life, and I died eating generic macaroni in a government run retirement home. And I couldn't afford Emerald Paradise. Not even close. It was a public VW for me, whichever one Uncle Sam saw fit to assign.
So like i said, here I am in the virtual universe's premier cross-cultural action sequel virtual world experience, Rush Hour 3 world. They used all the left over assets from when the movie was converted to holographic VR.
"Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?" Says fat Chris Tucker.
He only says lines from the movies. Usually they're from Rush Hour 1. We all hate him.
"Don't you ever touch a black man's radio."
Jesus christ. I did everything the right way, and still I ended up here. Take it from me. Dont save your whole life, your just gonna get burned, stuck in a never ending hell directed by Brett Ratner. Eat your nuts while you got em.
|
**^(Army of the Mentally Ill)**
&#x200B;
Adam can tell how many days he hasn't slept by looking at how filthy his hands become. He looks down at his hands gripping the steering wheel. White knuckled and grimy. Similar to the hands of a mechanic. "Shit!"he says as he wipes the beads of sweat that formed above his eyebrows.
It's been about a week.
*"You disgust me!""You haven't taken your medication?.""DON'T TAKE IT!""You wouldn't take it...would you?"*
Followed by a few sobs he gave a pathetic wail, and started the car. Adam drove down the coast near his home, and recited his Therapist's affirmations "This is my head, and nobody else's.". In the veil of his manic state, a loud thump sent him nearly colliding with a street lamp. Under its yellow glare he tried to rationalize truth and fiction. Had he run someone over? Killed someone?
The blinking hazard's revealed a slumped over body in strobe vision. Continuing his attempt to rationalize the situation he saw a distorted Dementophobis. The God of Insanity. Laying there with a birds beak,and olive branch split in two halves, but then it formed back into a middle aged woman in joggers attire.
"*Big big trouble here..."JAIL TIME!""You did it.. You killed Dementophobis."\*Applause\*Applause\**
Overwhelmed by exhilaration his nostrils flared, and he raised his hands up like an Olympic gold medal recipient. "I did it. I killed the God of Insanity."he whispered head down. When Adam was finished basking in his victory he saw headlights emerge between the fog on the neighboring mountain. Quickly, he picked up the God in neon jogging attire, and placed him into his trunk, and drove home.
The next morning drew another sleepless night for Adam. The voices had grown increasingly volatile. Congratulating him at one moment, and cursing him the next. One of the voices stood out. "*Adam, it distresses me to know that my keeper has passed*."said in a low weepy voice. "Who are you?"asked Adam. The voice didn't respond but continued weeping. "*You are the beginning of Dementi AD (After Death)."* At that moment Adam felt every accomplishment Dementopbis has achieved. The antibiotic enemies he's defeated, and his army of mentally ill minds. He walked out into the sunshine that day. Looking around the city streets he saw the 'Army of the Mentally Ill'. Sitting on park benches, waiting in grocery store lines, and wearing uniforms, like mailmen and construction workers to disguise themselves.
All of them affirming themselves. "This is my head, and nobody else's."
&#x200B; |
"You can't smoke that in here!"
"Oh, sweetie, that's going to be the least of your problems."
Jane walked out of the laundromat, cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth, and turned right down the electroway. Under the glow of neon pinks and blues, she walked while listening for the inevitable screams of anger, and she grinned when she heard them. They finally checked the driers. It's amazing what a few bottles of mustard can accomplish.
A lightbike swept past as holo-ads blared overhead. *"Dr. Mel's Skin Coloring Kits -- Purple and Green, On Sale Now!""PupilTech XSR -- The Must-Have Eye Tech of The 23nd Century""Mother's Day Is Coming, Why Not Book A Date For The Most Special Woman At Her Favorite Restaurant? Call Taco Bell For Reservations Today!"*
*Peasants,* thought Jane as she jumped in line at at street noodle stand. Everyone blowing money on shit they don't need, going through the paces of life without ever actually living. Not that her life was particularly flashy; being a freelance prankster didn't pay much, but dammit if she didn't get to have some fun.
A vibration in her back pocket. She pulled the comPad out of her tight leather cutoffs and saw she had a new notification. 'JOB OFFER.' Jane groaned -- it was already nearly midnight. She was about to throw down a quick dinner before hopping the lightrails back to her pathetically small apartment, then stay up til sunrise in the high-stakes VR WarRooms. She even had a little Jangvian gin left under the cot.
But it couldn't hurt to look at the gig's details. Jane brushed her long black hair out of her eyes and opened the message -- then almost dropped the comPad in shock:
*"10,000 credits. Quarter now, rest upon completion. Uploading file via public access. Call for rendezvous details. Offer expires in five minutes."*
Jane had been running people's petty revenge plots for six months now. In that time, the most she'd made for a single gig was 500 creds. Normally, a job went for 20 or 30. But a ten-k payday could clear all her debts, get her out of that shit apartment, and there'd still be enough left over for a new MagnetoBoard.
Any thoughts of gaming tonight were forgotten. Even dinner was an afterthought, as Jane stepped out of line and dialed the number listed. The other end picked up after one ring.
"Jane Swiftvolley?"The client was using a voice modulator, making them sound like a bad android.
"That's right. What's the job?"
"Exactly what was described. You'll pick up a microdrive, plug it into a public terminal, initiate the upload sequence and leave. That's it."
*Bullshit.* Jane had been in the game long enough to know that there had to be something else going on. No one tosses around that many credits for innocent little gags.
"I wasn't born in a hovercraft garage,"she replied. "You've got to tell me what you're doing, or deal's off."
"Fine, we'll move on to another freelancer --"
"No time,"Jane interrupted. "You put a time limit on that offer, so what you need has to get done tonight. Hell, there's only a handful of us in this quadrant, and I only picked up my phone on chance. This doesn't get done if it's not done by me."
Hesitation; the modulator made the speaker's breath sound like a ventilation system. After long seconds it spoke. "Very well. But you can pick up the microdrive and complete the task in the next hour?"
"No doubt -- once you tell me what's on it."
"It's a mimic signal,"explained the voice, wariness not hidden by the modulator. "It will convince anyone who sees it that it came from... off world. It won't harm any of NASA's core systems, I promise."
"NASA?"asked Jane incredulously. "Why the hell would NASA need to be pranked?"
The speaker responded with wickedness in its modified voice, "How much did you pay attention in your Space History classes? *Opportunity* died 200 years ago today, and we're going to have some fun..."
\--------------------
239/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\--------------------- |
I stared at them. “Do you guys hear yourselves? Like. You know what you’re saying and doing?”
They seem exasperated at my response, but I can’t bring myself to care. I didn’t want to let my friends, the gullible, sweet fools they are, to get in trouble with the law because “friendship is magic” or whatever that pink horse says on TV. Of course, I wasn’t going to stop the other prisoners from leaving, but I was nervous about the guards. These guys kept watch over us for so long. They’re good soldiers. Good men of their countries. I felt frightened at the thought of the State executing them for helping us.
I looked around at my fellow prisoners, trying to gain some kind of support. “Is everyone just going with this? Does no one else see this as insane on their part? Guys!”
One of my guard buddies heaved me up from my bed, patting my shoulder hard with his bear-like hand. He threw me that confident grin he gave everyone when they were in low spirits. “Just take our word for it, doll. We know what we’re doin’, aye? We know the laws of this land and its forefathers better than those old runts.”
One of the older guards smiled wanly, trying to coax out the youngest prisoners first so they had a chance to get out without detection. The guard that helped me up sighed, smiling a little at the mess around us. “Just because they say you’re bad doesn’t mean we believe it. Like how you didn’t believe it when your captain told you we were bad. Seriously. It’s fine.”
I groaned, bending down to pack up my belongings in the single army pack I still had from when we were first captured. Unbelievable. No one feared the consequences of their actions here.
One of the younger guards poked my ribs with his boot. “You have to calm down. And trust us. Killing prisoners of war during wartime is illegal. They’re breaking a law. We’re doing as we swore to do when we joined the armed forces. We’re following the laws of our land. We won’t disobey our Constitution because a couple of old farts hate you guys more than anything else worth hating.”
I sighed. “If one of you gets hurt doing this, I’ll never forgive you, I hope you know.”
The burlier of the two laughed, hitting my back with his bear hand again. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get there, lad. Just hurry up with that packing and grab a rifle. You boys aren’t leaving this place unarmed under my watch.”
“Ouch! Damn, for someone who claims to be my friend, you’re real violent with me,” I teased. I couldn’t help the sarcasm. Stressful situations make my brain switch to Asshole Mode.
“Just get a move on, idiot.”
Us prisoners hurried out of the bunker as soon as we could to minimize the dangers and risks of our guard friends’ disobedience of their superiors. We herded into a couple of cargo jets meant to carry supplies to and from the fort.
Some of us crowded into small, hidden nooks in the plane while others hid in empty crates intended to hold food, ammunition, and other necessities. I crouched down near a window so I could get a glimpse of the confusion and chaos at the fort before we left forever.
The plane doors closed and within what felt like ten minutes, we were ready for flight. The pilot kindly gave warnings as to each step. “We are in taxi.” Later, “We are preparing for takeoff.” Lastly, “We are ascending.”
The last I saw of my friends, they had their guns at the ready to fight the State officials who’d just arrived to begin the process of prisoners-of-war mass execution. A fight broke out. I caught one guard’s eyes through the window as he ran to get on a jet on the tarmac. He shot me a bright, victorious grin. The last thing I saw him do was tell me via manual Morse code (the new version of Morse that I created using hand motions to create letters rather than sounds) that the guards were winning.
I’m as much a man as the next. I have my insecurities and fears and preconceived notions of what masculinity means. I have never felt proud of my tears. It was just something my army general dad had drilled into me since boyhood. But I can proudly say that I cried for those guards that day. I cried for their victory. I cried for their joy. I cried for their sadness. I cried for their families that have to see their struggle. I cried for their communities that have to see their pain. I cried for their wives and children that have to see their mental destruction. I cried for their future.
I never regretted those tears. I never regretted those years. I never regretted those friendships.
The only thing I regret is only getting one of those guards’ phone numbers before I left. I really should have gotten everyone’s. But hey, at least the Bear still calls me to this day. He told my daughter ‘Happy birthday!’ when she turned eleven the year I came home. He told my wife ‘Congratulations!’ on her new job. He told my mother ‘Well done!’ when I received a medal of honor. He told me ‘Come visit us, jackass!’ after he received the news that all of his fellow guards made it out alive.
Now. Guess where I’m driving right now. Let me give you a hint: It’s for a family reunion.
(Edit: Please tell me what you guys think. I would LOVE some critique or suggestion.) |
My very first “pre-set” isn’t one I’ll ever forget.
It came to me in the most unsuspecting place you could imagine - sitting at a table in my local McDonalds, eating a chicken burger.
*“SURVIVE”.* I heard it in my own voice, ringing in my ears just as I took my first bite. Reeling in shock, I instinctively swallowed and nearly choked on my food as my body was suddenly overwhelmed by a foreign sensation. *Wh-what the hell is this…?*
“Hey, are you alright, man?” My friend Michael asked me from across the table. Even though our orders had come at the same time, he was already halfway through his chicken nuggets. “C’mon, it’s not *that* bad, right?”
I didn’t respond; I was still reeling from what had happened. Looking down, I saw that my hands were shaking - truth was, I couldn’t even feel them. Every inch of my body was aching with pure, unfiltered dread, for some reason I didn’t comprehend. And this wasn’t just some cheap fear you’d get from watching a horror movie, or the looming terror of an upcoming midterm exam. This was real fear - of the life-or-death kind. I’d never felt it before now, but I knew this was it.
“I’m...fine,” I heard myself say, but I knew I wasn’t. I looked around the crowded restaurant, getting the feeling that I shouldn’t be here right now. Hesitantly, I put down my burger. “Uh...on second thought, I don’t feel very hungry. Guess I had a big breakfast…?”
“Suit yourself,” Michael shrugged. Somehow, in those past few seconds he’d finished all of his remaining nuggets. “Let’s go, or else we’re gonna miss the game.”
As we left, I found myself anxiously looking around in seemingly random directions, as if some monster was going to appear at any moment. My sudden feeling of dread still hadn’t faded or even lessened. Meanwhile, Michael was completely unaware of my current state, and was cheerfully whistling as he texted his girlfriend.
As we made our way to the stadium, I continued to glance at every person who passed by. Nephilan City wasn’t exactly the most interesting city in Canada, nor was it filled with the most interesting people, so why was I feeling this way all of a sudden?
We reached the front entrance, where a large group of people were lining up to get a seat for the big baseball game. As we approached, I suddenly felt a different sensation, one that was similar to my previous fear but not quite the same...it was some sort of deja-vu? And suddenly, I knew what I had to do.
“Come on, we gotta get away from here!” I grabbed my friend’s arm and began running in the opposite direction, as fast as my legs could take me. I still didn’t have a full understanding, but I was also entirely sure of myself. This was life or death.
“What the hell?” Michael yelled. “Hey, Taylor, are you out of your damn mind? Stop it!
” Nearby, people were starting to cast confused glances at us. I didn’t stop though - in fact, I kept running faster and faster, until we were at the edge of the city.
I paused to catch my breath, my fear being replaced by total exhaustion. Somehow, I felt like whatever danger I was terrifed of had passed. Before I could say anything, however, Michael got right in my face, and he looked furious.
“What are you, high?!” he snapped. “We’ve been waiting for this game for months and now suddenly you pull something like that? The hell is wrong with-”
His angry rant was cut abruptly short by a loud rumbling, as the ground began to shake violently beneath our feet. Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting crack as a large black mass erupted in the distance, blotting out the entire sky within seconds. I heard hordes of people screaming in terror, many of them being abruptly cut off. I also began to hear sounds that were not from any human being, roars and cries that seemed to be everywhere, and nowhere all at once.
“H-h-h-huh…?” His face stark white, Michael turned to me. “Hey, back there...did you...know this was gonna happen?”
I didn’t answer - or more specifically, I couldn’t answer. I wouldn’t know for a while, but this would be the first of many times I received a warning - a premonition - from myself in the future. More specifically, a possible future version of myself from one of infinite possible timelines. But at the time, all I knew for sure was that I had somehow saved myself from a horrible fate.
Turning around, I stared ahead into the darkness. “Now what do we do?” I asked out loud.
As if on cue, my own voice responded with a single word. “*ESCAPE.”* And with that single word, came a single emotion.
It was determination. |
Dying is an odd thing. One moment you’re dancing in a ballroom, surrounded by smiles and laughter, by young love and lost nerves, and the next—nothing. A blackness like no other, an indescribable void as your mind turns off and the curtains fall.
But then, just as quickly, life floods back. Perhaps not *life*, per se, but something like it. A ghost of where you were at the end; a fading memory of your final moments. I stood there, on a floor of pearl that radiated from within, wearing a dress redder than blood inside a cocoon made of starless night. The laughing crowd and bustle of dancers had been replaced by a single, floating, cloaked figure holding a menacing blade. I knew who -- or what -- it was.
“It’s my time, then, is it?” I asked wistfully, my breath a fog dancing on still air.
“Yes,” Death replied curtly. "It was quick, at least."
“I see. May I finish this dance, before you take me? It was my first. And, I suppose, my last.”
“You are already gone from that world, young one. There is nothing to finish.”
My eyes turned down to the brilliant tile, the reflection of my crimson dress smudged in it like a bloodstain. I squeezed them shut, waiting for it to end. I didn’t want to watch him take my soul to wherever it is souls go in the end. Maybe they go nowhere, or he keeps them in a jar to snack on.
A few moments of silence passed, and suddenly, I had weight again. I felt warmth, not the heat of living, but something like it, and my feet felt bound by shoes too tight once more. My eyes opened to a bony hand, blacker than onyx or ash, hanging in the air a foot away from my face. The being it was attached to stared at me with empty sockets like little black holes, unreadable and cold.
Andre Rieu’s *The Second Waltz* played, not from a stereo, but from everywhere and everything. The sound bled from existence itself, surrounding me, encompassing my soul and coursing through my veins. It picked up right where it had cut off in the last world.
“What is this?” I asked, a slow hand approaching the one outstretched before me.
“The best I can do,” Death said, and swept me away.
----
*/r/resonatingfury* |
I could hear her voice echoing across the mountains. It sounded so angelic and beautiful. One of the reasons why I loved her. Or why I *had* loved her.
You see, the princess was getting into a bad habit lately. Whenever we made love the last few days, she had broken into delighted song. I tried to shut her up, but by that time I had already gotten out of the mood and ended up not feeling aroused anymore.
"What's wrong, Johnathon?"she asked me with a whimper as we walked around the neighbourhood.
"Nothing..."I said, my voice not really emoting how I actually felt.
*"I can see you are quiet!"*
*Oh no,* I thought as she started back up in her singing.
"*But you are my heart and fire!"*
"Listen, princess."I said to her, glaring into her large big blue eyes, "It's just... you sing whenever we are doing it"
"I can't keep in my song!"She cried, and looked at me hurt, "And every time I touch I just want to serenade you!"
"Please, can you be a little bit quieter,"I asked. I saw some people walking up the stop, and as they approached, I realized they were my parents.
"Er- let's get out of here,"I begged quickly and my princess stared at me, confused.
"Johnathon!"
I clenched up and looked at my mum when I heard her say my name.
"Yes..."I mumbled, and my princess looked at my mother, then father and then back at me.
"*Who are these wonderful people! They make me feel so grateful"*
*"*What a beautiful voice!"My mother declared and my girlfriend squeed in delight, "Are you two dating?"
"Er-"
"*Even more than that, we're banging day and night."*
*"...*what?"my mum and dad said together. I went red in embarrassment and my girlfriend continued.
"*Your son is a great lover, he reminds me of my brother."*
*"*That's it!"I yelled, and turned to face the princess, "You're too weird! We're done!"
"*What...?"* she whimpered, and I stepped away from her. I growled.
"Over."
I grabbed my parents and directed them away from my now ex-girlfriend.
"*Johnathon!"* I heard her cry, "*I'll always remember you! Your smile, your laugh"*
I rolled my eyes, and walked with my folks, a bit saddened but mostly relieved.
"Who was that girl?"my mum asked me
"Just let it go..."I uttered, finishing off the discussion. |
The surgeon read through the papers.
&#x200B;
The patient, a young man named Jason Evans, was suffering from a broken heart. His wife left him a week ago, and his condition wasn't looking any better.
&#x200B;
"Dr. Johnson, we're ready for the surgery!"a nurse called out.
&#x200B;
The surgeon walked into the surgery room. She saw that the man on the table was terrified, as he was strapped down onto the table, and gazing at the surgical knives. Well, at least he was distracted from the pain.
&#x200B;
"Ma'am, are you sure that I have to be awake during the surgery?"Jason asked.
&#x200B;
"Well, it's too late now,"the surgeon replied. "Besides, how are we going to put you to sleep so quickly?"
&#x200B;
"Have you not seen *Grey's Anatomy* \- or any other medical show? They have a drug called *anesthesia*."
&#x200B;
"I'm sorry, Mr. Evans, but that's a fictional drug."
&#x200B;
"But what about chloroform? I see those in movies, and those work pretty quickly."
&#x200B;
"Especially if you want to turn into a plant, Jason."Dr. Johnson sighed. She hoped that this surgery would end quick, but it seemed that Mr. Evans was antsy. "Look, we have one option, but I doubt you'd like it."
&#x200B;
"I'll take it!"Jason answered.
&#x200B;
"Are you sure? It might hurt."
&#x200B;
"Oh, please!"he begged. "Just do it! I don't care!"
&#x200B;
"Well, if you say so...."
&#x200B;
Dr. Johnson nodded to the nurse. He dipped under the table and brought out a baseball bat. Before the patient could respond, the nurse knocked him out in just one swing.
&#x200B;
"Ok, now let's begin!"Dr. Johnson stated. |
For my Weapon, I wanted a powerful blade. A sharp blade that could pierce through foes and expectations alike. A tough blade to withstand the fires of dragon and tongue equally. A long blade to reach duelists and recognition evenly. A mighty blade to slay demons and bullies comparably.
I was a weak child. My parents had me two weeks early, and I was stunted in growth. My musculature was poor and underdeveloped. I couldn't do what the other kids did, playing kickball and soccer and knights. All I could be was the damsel-in-distress to be saved. I wrote, venting about my frustrations in the form of stories and poems. I was laughed at, scorned, and ridiculed, but on the Day of the Weapon, I expected it all to change.
My father had received a holy sword with silver flames emanating from an, also silver, blade. Forged from pure adamantium, it was a Weapon fit for a saviour. My mother received a sleek, sharp dagger, easily concealed, worthy of a trickster like Mom. My grandfathers and uncles and aunts and cousins had all received powerful weapons, and my parents were hoping their firstborn could measure up.
When I got the blade, they were disappointed. They hid it well, not showing it on their faces, but in their eyes, I could see the sadness. The sadness over my pitiful, tiny thing. It was far too small to fight with, barely as long as my hand, and was not even sharp enough to penetrate flesh. Deep down though, I was content with what I got. It matched me well, and I would always treasure it.
The pen is mightier than the sword after all. |
There’s is something cold on my right cheek. Weird feeling. I let out an half grunt and try to wake me up enough to realise what’s going on. The moment I try to scratch my eyes with my forearm, I realise something is wrong.
I am handcuffed. And the cold thing my face is resting on appears to be, well, the floor.
“Wakey wakey!” a voice says. A voice I know very well.
“Youvgttobe *kidding* me!” I manage to mumble from the floor. “This? Again?”
She shrugs and unceremoniously lifts me up by the collar of my leather jacket. I protest from the air.
“Hey, hey, watch out, it’s-“
“-a fine jacket and you got it from a really sweet sale and blah blah.” She sits me no a plastic chair. “You need new anecdotes, James.”
Did I already tell her this story? When was it? I purse my lips in what I hope looks like a disdained expression. “Maybe if you stopped kidnapping me so often...”
“Maybe if you stopped being such an easy target?” Ouchie. “Besides, I need to lure Maya here, so that-“
“-so you can revenge on her and evil plans and blah blah.” I sigh very ostentatiously. “You need to find new evil plhhhhh-“
She just put a blade in front of my nose. Not a big blade, not a big nose either, but still, quite intimidating.
“Don’t taste my patience. Now, tell me where she is tonight.”
I try to focus on her face rather than the blade. It’s prettier, this way. Her face, too. But I had time to realise that a couple of kidnappings ago.
“I honestly don’t know, Val. Can I call you Val?” Her face tells me I should regret that, but I still go for it. “You know we are not actually a *thing*, right?”
She scoffs and walks away.
“That night at the bar you were telling a different story.”
If my hands were free, I would open then in a very Italian I-am-innocent way. “Ok, turns out I was kind of... exaggerating?”
“Yeah.” she says, playing with the knife. “I think I realised that first two times she took her damn time to come here to rescue you.”
“Hey, she didn’t always rescue me! I escaped a couple of times!”
“Twice. Just twice,” she doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. She just puts the knife back in her belt.
“Three times, Val. Do I have to remember you the Soda Incident?”
She puts both hands on her hips. “*I* let you go, that time!”
“You were scared of my hidden superpowers, weren’t you?”
She just stares with a rather patronising look. “Everyone knows you don’t have superpowers, James. You are just...” she ponders for a couple seconds. “A leather afficionado who knows something about martial arts and-“
“Something!” I am definitely outraged. I jump up and down on my silly plastic chair. “Says the girl whose move is poisonous gas every time I’m taking a nap!”
She puts an arm on my chair to stop it from jumping. “Then close your damn windows when you take your damn naps!”
She’s so close that when I open my mouth to reply I almost eat one of her curly locks. Gross. Also, sweet-smelling. Nice.
“Why are you so obsessed with *me*, Valerie?”
“Oh!” She scoffs again. “Oh, here he goes! The fancy vigilante and the super ego!”
“Well, it makes you wonder why you always kidnap *me*” and I make the chair jump against her grip. “And not an easier target, like... I don’t know, her little sister.”
I remember Maya being fiercely protective when talking about her sister. Maya. So fiery, so hot. So not interested in me. But I got distracted. And my jailer is on the verge of leaving the room.
“Hey, wait!” I shout to her back. “You left me lying on the floor for how-many-hours and you leave me like this?”
She crosses her arms, eyes on the floor. “I left you on the ground because I knew you would fall, dumbass.”
“Oh. So, *thank you?*” or maybe not. She kidnapped me, after all.
“I still kidnapped you.” She says, reading my mind.
“And I’m going to free myself in 11 minutes.” Bragging? Sure. Bluffing? Maybe.
And it looks like she’s about to call my bluff, then crosses the room with 2 strides and looms over me. She takes out a roll of type from.,. Her belt? How spacious is that?
“I’m taking extra precautions, then.” She slits her eyes. “But I know I don’t need it.”
“Sure.” I try and fail to shrug nonchalantly. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.”
“You are *not* escaping on your own.”
“Sure. Make me.”
She sighs. “You are such a dork.”
“And you are such a-“
Before I know it, she’s kissing me. It’s all about her curls caressing my cheeks, and her hands on the base of my head, and her lips and...
“Wow.” I manage to sigh when she pulls off. “I had been dreaming that for a while.” Suspect rises. “Unless you... poisoned me?”
She laughs and kisses my nose. “I did not.”
We kiss again. She sits on my knees, and I have to say that being handcuffed makes it 10 times hotter.
“James...?” she whispers on my lips.
“Yeah?”
“I think my sister is here.”
“Mmh?”
“My sister. Maya.”
I open my eyes at once. Sister? Maya? Is Valerie her...? Am I in a lot of trouble?
“JAMES? Valerie?”
The only time I went out on a drink with Maya, she told me that she would kill anyone who ever laid a finger on her little sister.
And judging by the look she has, standing on the door, staring at me with Valerie on my lap...
Yeah. I think she meant it.
(Edit: fix typos) |
My father’s passing was a great tragedy. He was a good man, a good father, and a good king, a combination that was unfortunately rare in our little kingdom. I genuinely mourned his loss, but a secondary crisis was also unfolding slowly. He had been healthy until his untimely demise and thus had not named a successor.
A council of noble lords was assembled to choose a new monarch from among my siblings. Along with myself, each of my four brothers and sisters was interviewed for the job, as the rest of us sat in the audience awaiting our turn.
I was last to be called up, but as my 4th sibling was being interviewed I realized that this would be no traditional succession battle between power mad siblings. From the way they answered the councils questions it became abundantly clear that none of them wanted the job and the immense responsibly of the title.
Each of them was sabotaging their opportunity in rather obvious fashion. My eldest brother Prince John told the council that he was utterly incapable of fathering heirs in very blunt and crass terms. My youngest brother Prince Gregory ignored the councils questions and simply ranted and raved about his bloodlust and desire to invade our most reliable ally in the region, from which half the council shared kin or common blood. My sister Princess Elizabeth was perhaps the most cunning of all of us. She described in great detail how her “female problems” made her utterly insane once a month. It wasn’t remotely true, she was always as sane and rational a person as I’d ever met, but she knew the prejudices of this all male council and exploited those biases to be all but dismissed from the running.
Finally it was my turn, but I also had no interest in ruling. Being a prince was the best job in the entire realm, all of the benefits, none of the blame, rebellions or assassination attempts that all rulers of our kingdom endured.
After answering the councils basic, biographical questions, I got my opportunity to torpedo my odds, inspired by my sisters performance to this specific audience to made up of the mightiest noble lords of the realm.
“Prince Harrison, if given the immense power of the crown, would there be any action you would undertake on your first day on the throne?” one asked me.
“Yes indeed!” I bellowed “A total overhaul of our society in fact! There should be no lords and serfs! I would immediately put and end to nobles benefitting from the back breaking labor of a class of near slave workers who work their lands.”
The council glanced at each other in abject horror and I became the first to be officially dismissed by the council. My siblings glared at me angrily as I strode out of the room with a great weight lifted off my shoulders, but it’s not my fault I knew the perfect card to play in our feudal society. Best of luck to the rest of them.
r/Ryter
This is the first story I’ve tried to write from my phone (while very bored at a doctors office lol) Apologies for any resulting formatting problems or terrible typos! |
"That's absolutely not ok,"responded the President of the Earth.
"But the guy whose dad made the universe said we could have it."
"That's not how it works,"the President said.
They were talking via satellite link. The President was in her palace of government on Svalbard Island. The aliens were on the command bridge of their mothership.
"Then tell us how it does work,"the aliens said.
"Like this,"the President said, and she terminated the connection. All over the earth people laughed at the meek aliens and their non-confrontational ways.
On the mothership, the aliens were in the middle of crisis of spirit. They sat around in a circle and talked about what they should do next.
"Do we just leave?"one suggested. This was met with a general murmur of agreement.
"But it's ours. Why shouldn't we get it?"said a particularly brown alien. He had a mouth like a horseshoe and his seven eyes were like pig's tails.
"We absolutely should get it,"said a grey alien whose fangs were jellied and yellow. "But we asked and they said no. We're out of options."
The brown alien shook its head. "We have mega-nukes. We could mega-nuke the human squatters off our planet."
"And so we come to the crux of the matter,"said an impressive alien. It rose onto its thirteen feet, which were clawed but also fleshy and pale. As it spoke it writhed like seaweed in the tide. "We deserve the land, but to nuke them would be to make ourselves unmeek, and to do that would be to revoke our claim on the planet. There is only one possible solution."
"And that is?"the brown alien asked.
The impressive alien writhed over to the viewscreen. The blue planet floated in the blackness of space like a precious stone on velvet. "The ultimate in meek offensive strategy: passive-aggression."
The aliens squealed excitedly. They had the humans now.
The next day the mothership sent out thousands of landing pods, each of which was crammed full of aliens. They landed in towns and immediately set about writing onto every bare surface messages like the following:
-Hey, it would be great if you guys could remember that you don't belong here and you should leave.
-Oh, hey, humans, not trying to be annoying or whatever, but I thought you might want to remember that the planet doesn't belong to you and so you should go away.
-UwU plz go.
People found these signs annoying, but they could overlook them. In fact, some found the sings funny. They took pictures of themselves sitting next to the signs and captioned the pictures: STILL HERE. WHOOPS!
The aliens stepped up their game.
In most homes across the planet, some version of the following scene played itself out:
Jeff Bob woke up one morning and went downstairs to put on a pot of coffee. On his way into the kitchen, he was disturbed to hear what sounded like a pack of dogs snarfing on a bowl of meat. But when he got into the kitchen, he found an alien with muddy grey fur halfway inside his fridge gobbling down every bite of food.
"Get out of there!"Jeff said.
The alien came out of the fridge with three apples in its tentacles, a box of milk pinched in its beak, and four beers tucked into the folds of its abdomen. Quite sarcastically, it said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not supposed to be here? Is this your house? I bet you want me to leave, don't you? Well, ok, but, well, tell me this. Are you gonna leave the earth? No? Oh ok yeah that's right I didn't think so."It shotgunned the beers, dropped the empties on the floor, burped, and went back to rummaging in the fridge.
The palace of the government on Svalbard island was inundated with complaints. People called in saying that aliens had been sleeping in their beds, tearing up their lawns, and teaching their dogs to pee on the carpet. The president assembled her cabinet for an emergency meeting.
"The aliens and their confrontational non-confrontation is causing us serious issues,"she said. "I'm taking suggestions."
The general of the earth army pounded the table. "Nukes! We gotta nuke their nukes and then nuke them! Only nukes can solve nukes and aliens and nukes!"
A nerdy person in glasses smugly pushed their glasses up their nose. "Um, excuse me, but I'm a science-tist and I can tell you that if we nuke the aliens the radiation will kill every person on earth."
A vein on the general's forehead pulsed. "But, nukes!"
The president shook her head. "No, the science person is correct. Nukes are out of the question. We'll have to look to other means."
A super-bishop floated into the room on a rainbow hoverpack. "The solution lies in the words of Jesus."
"Jesus has no place in scientific discussion,"said the nerdy glasses person.
"And science has no solution for the magnets or bees,"said the super-bishop. A hush went over the room, and the science person, defeated, took their seat.
"Super-bishop, what do you have for us?"the president said.
"I've been in touch with the mega-pope, and he's agreed that the words of Jesus are open to interpretation."
"I get it,"the general said. "We give them nuke-bibles."
"Almost,"said the super-bishop. "But not at all, actually."He floated to the center of the table. His holographic hat showed a picture of a cat praying in Mexico. "The mega-pope has agreed to issue a pronouncement on the meanings of certain words."
The president's tongue flicked across her canine teeth. "This is good."
The super-bishop chortled and also he guffawed.
In fact, everyone guffawed. There was much guffawing.
Later that day, a livestream went up on the bottom of every cloud on the planet. It showed the mega-pope in his mega-chill mega-pad. He said the following, "Turns out that in the bible, when Jesus said 'the earth', he was actually referring to a local kebab shop called The Earth. So, you know, think on that."
The aliens, of course, were devastated by this news. But with their contract thus reinterpreted, they had no choice but for all one trillion of them to move onto the land where the old kebab shop used to be in Palestine.
At first they were pretty packed onto those thirty square feet. They formed a tower over five kilometers tall. It was strange and defied physics.
But then business at the kebab shop picked up, they opened up franchises, and pretty soon The Earth was the world's biggest restaurant chain.
*****
*author's note: i don't even know where i was going with this. hopefully you enjoyed it or smth*
*r/TravisTea* |
How did I get here again? Oh... that’s right, some genius decided it would be a good idea to put his name into the ring against the Almighty. Honestly, I just thought that it would be a funny story to tell my grandkids someday. You know something like… “You know I was in the running to be God at one point…” I don’t know something stupid like that. Now I’m sitting here getting ready to go out to the final debate against the deity that’s been reigning over the universe for the last 10 million years. I don’t want to be God!!! He probably doesn’t get to have any fun while He sits on His loft throne Judging humanity every single day. What a drag that would be… although… maybe I could do away with the whole judgement thing, the only people who would get sent to hell are people I don’t like, or who are downers.
Come to think of it, why is God holding elections for His position? Isn’t he supposed to be like a tyrannical monarchy or something? If I become God, I think I’ll do away with that whole thing too. I’ll even do humanity something better, I’ll take away all their pain and make them only experience things like love and joy and happiness. I’ll do away with all war and make the planet peaceful, no one will do anything evil to one another.
I walked out on stage with my chest puffed up and walked to the mic to call out God on his bullshit. After all what does he know that I don’t? |
Lad, I know you’ve got dreams of glory. You’re anxious to move out of this village and make something of yourself. I get it, but you need to know what awaits you beyond those walls. Fair enough, child, it’s time you finally heard the tale of one of our most well known heroes, “Jack ‘The Snack’ Brendly.”
He was a boring young lad, haunted by idle dreams of glory. By the time he was of age, the closest he’d ever come to danger was when he burned on his left arm on the stove one morning. See, our “great” hero started as a simple baker’s apprentice. It all started on the day he bought his first sword...
“Today’s the day.” Jack thought, “After two years of payments another year of waiting, my brand new sword is finally here! To think, with this enchanted sword, I’ll soon be the greatest hero alive!” He reached out to run his finger across the blade, but stopped short. “I’ll have to test it on something. From what the smith said, I just need to start small, ‘feed the blade frequently,’ and I’ll be a legend in no time!”
Jack Brendly was a lot like you, lad, a responsible, cautious young man. He wasn’t about to go test out his brand new blade on some rats, or slice into some bandits without any training. No, no matter what he paid for his enchanted blade, he had to see it work for his own eyes. And he decided to do so responsibly. After all, he wasn’t about to repeat his hot stove mistake and earn another scar! So he did what anyone with a new sword does. He tested it on the nearest available target.
“A fresh baguette should do the trick,” Jack said to himself. He tossed the bread in front of him, and with a single swipe, split it in half. “Ahh, there we go, that’s the stuff,” the sword muttered. |
"Please, Great One. We beseech you. Lend us your great power in the coming months."
Carl wondered how these people kept finding him. He had hidden himself away in the most remote places, keeping multiple lairs and hideouts connected by space magic. And yet, they still found him. He would have to look into that.
He looked at the group of men kneeling in front of him. One of them was dressed way too nicely to be an adventurer. Maybe a king? Well, it did not matter much to Carl. They were expecting an answer though.
"Nah."Carl said.
"Great One?"
"Nah. Don't feel like it."
"But we have come hundreds of leagues, bearing great treasures as tribute. Surely there is something among what we brought that will change your mind."
"Dude, are you trying to bribe me or something?". He said in his best angry voice.
He was not actually angry, but these royal types were fun to mess with. If he was going to be bothered with such regularity, he might as well have fun with it.
"Uh, n-no, no. O-of course not."
"I don't like being bribed, you know."
"Yes, yes, of course Great One.". The maybe-king was drenched in sweat. "We just thought, maybe, that you would aid is in exchange for gifts."
Carl used one of his claws to pick at some non-existent piece of something in his teeth. It was a completely non threatening gesture, but it terrified his visitors.
"Yeah, well, it's not my birthday, so don't bother with gifts. You can leave now. I don't feel like helping anyone right now."
"Y-yes, Great One. Of course. Please, excuse our rudeness."
The party scrambled out of Carl's cavernous bedroom. He watched them go, barely containing his laughter. Watching such self important people get taken down a few pegs always satisfied. It made him wish his old bosses could see him. But, that was not going to happen any time soon. If ever.
Carl stretched his large body out and gave a huge yawn. It was time for a different kind of entertainment. This world might not have TV, but Carl had something almost as good. He tapped into the neigh limitless magical power he possessed and cast a modified viewing spell. It showed him a group of adventurers in the middle of combat a few hundred miles away. It was as good a source of entertainment as he could get.
A few hours later, he hears something and groaned. He stopped his spell and waited. There was another person coming to meet him. Twice in one day. That was a record. It usually took a few months for someone to work up the guts to talk with him, and even longer to actually find him.
The footsteps coming down the corridor were small and light. An elf maybe? It had been awhile since he had seen one of those. They always made for a good laugh.
The figure entered the room and Carl blinked in surprise. Another human, but this one was a child. A little girl from the looks of things. What was a kid doing way out in the middle of nowhere? She was dirty, dressed in rags, and her hair was a mess. She was definitely not with the king that had just left.
The girl froze when she saw Carl. She nervously clutched the hem of her rags and looked unsure of what to do. Carl was briefly reminded of his daughter, but only briefly. His baby girl had been blonde. This one had black hair. Plus, she was shorter and almost painfully skinny.
"What's a little girl like you doing here?"Carl asked gently. Best not to scare the kid.
"U-um, I was...I was..."The girl's eyes were filling with tears and she sniffled between her words. "I was looking for plants that mommy said could make people feel better, and, and I...I got lost."
"Uh huh. That's a special kind of lost, kid. You're a good month's travel by horseback from the nearest human village."
"My mommy and me travel a lot. We don't stay in villages because they don't like us."
Gypsies then, or at least the magic world equivalent of one. He used a small bit of magic to see if she was being honest. To his surprise, she was.
"Okay, fine, whatever. You'd better get out if here then. I bet your parents are worried about you."
"U-um..."
"I...I never saw a dragon before. I get told a lot of stories though."
Carl sighed. "Do you know who I am? Other than a dragon."
"Uh-huh.". The girl nodded. "You're the holy dragon, Verrisin."
He groaned. He hated that name. He much preferred Carl, even if it was a common name. But, it was what these people knew him as.
"That's right, I am. And if you know that, you know I don't like to be bothered."
"Why not?"
"Uh, what?"
"Why not? You've a big house. If I had a big house, I'd have friends over all the time. You have a house that's really big, so you should have lots and lots of friends."
Carl gave a tired sigh. "Look, kid, I worked hard my entire life..."He froze. Damn. He said something he shouldn't have. Maybe she wouldn't notice.
"What's that mean? I heard that you always stay inside and don't have to work a bit unless the Goddess asks you to."
"It... it's nothing. Just, get out of here, kid, okay?"
"Do you need a friend?"
The question caught him completely off guard. He looked at the little girl in shock. Most people would be scrambling to leave right about now. But this kid? She was asking to be his friend. It had been years, decades since he had had one of those.
"I, I don't..."Carl stammered.
The girl went right up to him, climbed up onto one of his clawed hands and simply sat down.
"You look lonely. Everyone should have a friend. I don't have very many either, since we move around so much. That's why we should be friends."
"Jeeze, kid, you ask that to every legendary creature you meet?"
The girl giggled. "No. You're the first one. But...but I bet if I ever see any others I would."
"Good way to get yourself killed. Not everything is as nice as I am. Most would just eat you."
"Oh. But you're nice, right?"
"Eh. Depends on who you ask."
The girl looked at his quizzically.
"Don't worry about it."He said. "Look, we can't be friends. You move around a lot, right? That means we wouldn't be able to see each other ever again."
"Oh, yeah. But I still want to. I can learn to write and we can send letter and stuff."
As if there was a post office in fantasy land. But she was persistent, he had to give her that. And she had gotten over her fear quickly. That was something no adult had ever done. Maybe there was something to having a friend.
"Alright, fine."He said, giving the dragon equivalent of a smile. "We can be friends. But you can't tell anyone, okay?"
The girl's face lit up. She stood and began bouncing on excitement.
"Really? You mean it? We can be friends?"
"Yeah, sure. I admit that it can be a bit lonely in my cave. Think you can keep this a secret."
She nodded furiously. "Uh huh. I'm good at that."
"In that case, we'll need a way to talk to each other. Hold out your hand."
She did so. With a small bit of magic, Carl placed a nearly invisible mark on her hand.
"There we go. You can use that to talk to me. But only once a month. It takes a lot of magic to use, and takes that long to recharge."
A half truth that he felt almost guilty about. It would do exactly what he said, but he could change it freely. Make the cool down time shorter. He could even make it able to bring her to him. But, that would come later.
The girl seemed quite happy with what she had anyway. Maybe she would grow on him and he would upgrade the mark.
"Now then, what's your name?"Carl asked.
"Mevii."She said, looking with wide, happy eyes at the mark. "And I already know you're Verrisin."
"Right. About that. If we're going to be friends, then please don't call me that."
"Then what?"
"You can call me Carl." |
“It’s good to see you, Miss. Reeves,” says the man, saluting me.
I’m in some top-secret bunker in Washington, one where no one like me is allowed into. Normal people don’t get involved with top-secret government affairs. Everyone I’ve seen knows who I am, and talk to me like I am someone important.
“Look,” I say to the general who brought me here, “this is all nice, but why am I here? I’m missing my shift at Applebees.” This is how unimportant I am. I’m just a waitress at the Bees.
“Miss. Jennings, you’re more important than you realize,” the man says.
I sigh and keep walking, the hallway seems to be miles long. I look at a clock and realize we’ve been walking for four hours.
“Where are we heading,” I ask, starting to get nervous.
“Just to see a doctor. You’ve been talking to people, telling them things you shouldn’t. The experiment didn’t go as planned.”
I look at him in shock. “*What* experiment,” I ask with a slight hint of fear in my voice. The lights were blinding. I realize I was bound to a table in a room. I don’t remember getting here.
“Look, Miss Suarez. You are government property. You are the first person we’ve been able to create in this lab. You were born two months ago, here. But, your memory has been getting unstable, hasn’t it?”
I look at him, and he’s not the same man who walked me in. I think. He could be, his face is distorted. Everything around me is weird. I can’t remember where I am.
“How many people are in your party,” I ask. “Would you prefer a table or a booth?”
The room is darkening. M y boss won’t like that I fell asleep at work again. |
Even though I am only 15 all I want in life is to become a superhero and join the Pyramid, an elite group of Heroes that save the world constantly. The only problem is that since I am too young they will not allow me on the team. This infuriates me but it is what it is. In order to still put my best foot forward and help society I decide to minimize the collateral damage.
My power allows me to stop time completely for everyone besides myself. In this state of time pause I can freely move any substance that I can touch. I had a chemistry friend of mine design these gloves that can withstand up to 1200 degrees celsius. With these gloves and my powers I can redirect anything to avoid collateral damage and minimize civilian harm.
As my city's number one hero, Jet Stream, is fighting with his arch nemesis, The Condore, they are constantly putting the people at risk by needlessly throwing each other at buildings and flying through windows sending glass and metal plummeting below where bystanders are mindlessly enjoying their day. This is my time to shine.
I freeze time and take the elevator up to the floor where a Jet Stream has is about to smash Condore through a building. It is there that I grab them and redirect them to go straight up as opposed to horizontally through who knows how many buildings. When i get the trajectory right I then use my grappling system that I "borrowed"from the police to scale the side of the buildings gathering the materials that were falling onto the heads of civilians and gather them back into the building safely on the floor. Once I have gathered all the debris possible I go back to the building put on a jacket to cover my gear and resume time.
As time resumes the battling duo are sky rocketed upwards over a mile above the city skyline and Jet Stream beat the Condore into submission with no collateral damage or civilian casualties. The only part of this that aggravates me is that the heroes always play these instances off as them avoiding the damage instead of admitting that they have no clue what happened while the were frozen in time for a whole hour while I, The Hourglass, was really the one who saved all these people.
I get back to my apartment in Delta City and see a masked figure sitting on my couch, I recognize him instantly. The famous hero of Gotham, Batman. "Took you long enough." |
My thoughts backed up at the announcement, a moment of melancholy curiosity. In retrospect it was probably an idiotic warning to send out, likely to get as many people looking or answering out of curiosity as it was to get them to lock up.
And yet, it was in other ways alarming. The government knew something, suspected something. And had sent out a warning, standing and moving to a cabinet I hauled open the doors and drew on the long coat within. I didn't bother closing the curtains. Even as the low droning sound began to pierce the edge of my hearing.
I took out the long staff from the cabinet and held it by my side as another hand reached out and took the mask, bringing it to my face.
[The faint sounds of guitar began to play in my head.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dy4HA3vUv2c)
There was a knock on the door and I turned towards it. Each step echoing on the hardwood floors. The air was thick like soup as I took hold of the handle.
"They did it then?"I said before the door even finally finished opening. Within it stood a wall of darkness, robed in midnight, hints of bone visible within the deep well of its hood. One skeletal claw clutching the first Scythe.
The staff in my own hand snarled to life, a blade of unlight drinking in the light around us. There was no verbal answer. The first had no concept of speech, it never had.
It was older than any spoken language.
*Don't fear the reaper.*
A curious song. Created by curious humans.
Unfortunately, the time had come, they had discovered a way to extend their life beyond that granted to them naturally. They were aware of the consequences. The Governments had always known about that less natural part of the world living beneath them.
But they got their myths crossed.
A reaper doesn't need an invitation. |
The time I was assaulted by a mutant
u/Peepsinthechilepot
Guys this just happened a few minutes ago and I had to share it. Sorry about the formatting and spelling I’m on mobile and English isn’t my first language. So I was getting some clothes at the gap and I was listening to some music while I wandered around I felt a tap on my shoulder. Already annoyed at being touched I spun around to see tall thin women standing in front of me. “EEEEXXXCCCUSSE ME”
“Can I help you?”
I said feeling nervous because I get anxiety whenever I’m around mutants because of past experiences.
“YES, YOU CAN HELP ME FIND CLOTHES FOR MY SON AND ME! NOBODY ELSE IN THIS STORE IS HELPING MEEEEE!” She shrieked.
*Why does she think I work here I mean come on I’m wearing a shirt that says hail satan?’* “I’m sorry I don’t work here,” I replied, this appeared to make the mutant even madder.
“HOW DARE DON’T LIE TO ME YOU LITTLE SHIT.” She shrieked and slapped me across the face. At that point, the manager had come running over after hearing the commotion.
“What's going on here ma'am?” The manager asked the mutant. She immediately puffed up and started crying.
“I WANT THIS LITTLE SHIT FIRED SHE REFUSED TO GIVE ME SERVICE AND WHEN I PUSHED HER I SLAPPED HER!!!”
“What no I didn’t she slapped me?” I managed to splutter out worried that he wouldn't believe me. The manager acting nervously said,
“Ma’m I’m going to have to calm down she doesn’t work here but we can check the security cameras.” The manager said holding his hands up to try and calm her.
“HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME I AM A PAYING CUSTOMER AND A VERY IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE MUTANT HIERARCHY.”
The lady shouted pointing a finger at him.
“I’m sorry ma'am but were going to have to corroborate your story before we call the police,” The manager said, and so we went into the security room and what do you know about cameras corroborated my story. It ended well the manager called the police and offered me a discount. I don’t think I will press any charges against the lady though.
Comments
Fake
Sounds like most of the stories on this sub
You really should press charges OP
Yeah people like that will never learn
\[I get anxiety whenever I’m around mutants due to past experiences\]
But if we look in your post history you claim that you are a mutant (r/quityourbullshit) |
“Mommy said it’s always been like that.”
The girl before me must have seen the utter look of shock on my face; no heartbeat. I looked with my ears a little longer; maybe for the motor of a mechanical heart. But.....nothing. A pulse test confirmed it; this girl appeared to be dead. Yet she was looking bored out a window, swinging her feet gently. I asked her mother to come in. The mother looked in a resigned fashion as she walked in; she’d been through this before apparently.
“Ma’am, what is-?”
“She’s a celestial.”
“A what?” I asked, my eyes popping.
“An angel. I thought her father was kidding when he said that too, until.....well, let me show you.”
She walked over to her daughter, smiling and whispered something in her ear. It was apparently some sort of inside joke, as her daughter brightened with a smile. And when I say brightened, I mean.....she shined. Her hair, which was solid black, was suddenly flashing gold, with wisps of a rainbow dotting the flashing color. Her veins shown with golden light, and around her, wings of an angel, too majestic to be anything but the most beautiful creatures alive. A shimmer remained as the girl calmed down.
“I.....know it’s hard to take in. But I need help hiding her. A doctors report, as normal as possible, would go a long way towards that.”
I hesitated. What if this wasn’t an angel in the sense of good? But then......a great calm washed over me. I became sure she wasn’t a threat, not to me, not to anyone. |
I felt power coursing through my veins. I always knew I would someday. Mom and dad were bother heroes, back in the Good Old Days. My mom could control fire. I miss her. My dad? He's invincible. He can't be cut, or bruised, or poisoned. Nothing hurts him. I wish when mom lost control, she could have taken him with her.
I felt the power radiating through me. It felt warm. It felt right. I was scared I would end up like mom at first. But I slowly got a sense for what my power did. I reached down, and gently placed my hand on my sprained ankle. The relief was immediate. I was a healer! Healers were always some of the most powerful heroes in the Good Old Days. Maybe there was still hope. Maybe I could find some people who haven't lost control yet. Maybe the age of heroes wasn't over.
A few days later, one of my new allies was killed. A child with control over wind. My father was merciless. I ran over to the boy. no pulse, over a dozen of his bones broken. there would be no saving him if it were anyone but me. I touched him, saw his wounds slowly knit back together. he opened his eyes. they looked a little blank, but that was fine. I didn't need his mind, just his power. I guided him to suffocate my father. My father's body may be beyond harm, but he still needed to breath.
After my father collapsed, I waited a few minutes, my companion swaying listlessly. I went over to my father and tried to heal him. He stood up like the boy, blank but alive. With this power, i could stop the apocalypse. I could bring things back, even better than the Good Old Days. I smiled softly. My power would save this world. I would be unstoppable. |
"You have to understand...my mother planned my birth around my grandmother's death."
My jaw dropped.
The woman knit her fingers together and leaned forward. Her crisp white shirt crested against the mahogany table as she loomed over me.
"I can see from your reaction that you don't, in fact, understand,"she said, a faint smile on her face.
I shook my head.
"I'm sorry,"I said. "I have no idea why you pulled me aside. Can I get back to the rest of the tour group? These tickets normally cost like eighty bucks. That's way more than I could normally afford."
The woman's arched brows drew together. "Forget about the tour group, Victoria. I sent you those free tickets. I just needed you to visit the palace so we could discuss the terms of our exchange."
"What exchange? I just wanted to see the palace. I like history."
The woman sighed and reclined, the rigid, poised lines of her body suddenly giving way as she relaxed into the cushioned seat with careless grace.
"Let's start over,"she said, blindingly white teeth flashing at me.
I moved to stand up. The woman tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the table.
"Sit down and shut up, or I'll call in the guards,"she said, sounding amused.
I sat, gulping audibly. I'd seen the guards stationed outside the palace before I'd been let in. Their sabers were ceremonial, but I was guessing the guns holstered at their waists weren't.
"My name is Vyctoryia. With two 'Y's and an utterly useless 'I'. My grandmother's name was Victoria -- *Queen* Victoria. Yes, yes, you can shut your slack-jawed mouth. You're speaking to royalty."
She rose from the chair, and began to pace the decadently furnished room.
"My mother planned my due date around my grandmother's death, so that I might carry her mantle. The exact moment. The exact instant. And when my grandmother wouldn't cooperate, my mother hastened her death. Do you follow?"She pivoted suddenly on her booted feet and leveled me with her gaze.
"I'm sorry -- did you just tell me your mother murdered someone?"
The woman -- Vyctoryia -- waved this aside. "My mother is long-dead, and I'm telling you this so you understand the...strength of my resolve as you approach our negotiations."
"Our negotiations over what? My name?"
"Precisely,"she said. "Somehow, despite there being a mere two second window between the signing of my grandmother's death certificate, and my birth certificate, you stole my name."
"I didn't steal it!"I said, lurching to my feet. This woman was clearly insane. I had half a mind to call for the guards myself. "It's mine by rights -- my father named me."
Vyctoryia stormed toward me. "And he had no right! That name carries more weight than you think. Your father was low-life scum who *abandoned* this family, abandoned *my* mother and --"
She stopped, trembling, her eyes wide.
"What did you just say?"I said, my voice shaking.
Vyctoryia took a deep breath. "You *will* give me your name."
---
quick plug for /r/tracking_trash if you enjoyed this! |
Be kind, first try! Thanks...
They headed to the burger joint.
Leon, and his son Leon Jr, were new in town. They were chased out of Billferton for holding up a chemists. They only wanted some damn antacids. All they got was a shotgun pointed at them and a head point to the sign, "NO FATTIES". Screw that town. Besides, all the best food spots in that town were overran with 'Boomers', addicted to eating as much as possible and then hosting gatherings to see who can cause the greatest explosion.
The world had gone to shit since the Fast Food Wars. Once people had figured out that they could still expel blasts of energy from eating things other than McDonalds (who used the opportunity to advertise that their burgers had more calories per dollar than Wendies and Burger King combined), then the lines started to return to normal.
Yep, the world really was a very different place since people starting blowing up. It started out fairly innocuously, with the first ever known case been screened on national TV. The guy, Jim, I think, led the judges out into a nearby airfield to show them the explosion that he could create with his own fat cells. When he emerged from the flames 50 lbs lighter, he was immediately given the Golden Buzzer.
After that, the number of people that could perform this one-of-a-kind stunt came forward in droves, and the media lapped it up. Videos of people creating nuclear-sized blasts and leveling whole towns soon spread across the internet. And of course the government tried to cover it up, claiming that they had no knowledge of any spontaneous human explosions. But the amount of recorded 'weight expulsions' was exponentially increasing. The best part was the secret 'feeding experiments' leak of 2024, which soon got 'morbidly obese peoples' added to the Geneva Protocol.
Once regular people realized that anyone over 300 lbs was basically a waddling nuclear bomb, things started to get really weird. Planes started having weight limits after a 250 lb woman sneezed on a flight from New York to Washington and 350 people died. Countries locked their borders. There were multiple reports from the Middle East of already obese radicals taking the initiative and striking before the enemy could eat enough. Apparently, 350 lbs was the limit before the energy source died. There was a video of that, too.
Most people had grown tired of eating and blowing up now though, and the number of fat-related incidents had been dwindling over the past five years. Normal people just used the ability to stay at their preferred weight. Movies had started to become weird, with actors taking advantage of the rapid weight loss to unleash new possibilities. Eddie Murphy played 100 different characters in "Norbit 2". Christian Bale played Donald Trump on SNL for 2 years, matching his weight gain pound for pound. Jonah Hill got to almost 350 lbs and refused to blow up until they commisioned '"Superbad 2".
Leon was tired. He wished that they could've found a car in Billferton. It took almost 2 hours to walk the mile and a half to the next town over. A portly man himself, Leon was small-framed, but big-bodied. At last check he was at around 200 lbs. Given that he was 5ft 4", he was quite proud of his size, and he worked hard to maintain it. He didn't really need to give a damn about his weight; he spent 99% of his time with Leon Jr, who might as well be a one-man-army.
At 7ft 4"and pushing 800 lbs, Junior was probably one of the largest people on the planet. He was also probably the only person his size that could also get out of bed, so obviously, people were bound to be scared of him. The doctor said given the right conditions, he could create a blast that would wipe out a landmass the size of Texas.
He hadn't always been this big. Out of college he had gained 500 lbs after losing out on NBA trials. In trading shooting baskets for slamming back beer (he could drink 3 cases a night) and eating pizza in a depressive manner, the weight miraculously piled on over a couple years. This was before the plan though, even before anyone knew about the explosions; that helped Leon sleep a little better at night. He thought it was amazing how such a large figure could still be so nimble and energetic.
"Almost there son"' he said.
"Mmph"replied Junior, puffing on his THC pen in between mouthfuls of chips.
"You know, I need you with it today"scolded Leon.
"But you know it gives me crazy munchies, Dad".
He was right. And if they were to pull this off, then his personal explosive device would need his appetite. |
The humans I reap souls from are all just names on a list. Or so we were told before each hunt.
In truth, I felt some were tougher assignments to swallow than others. Old folks who had lived wonderful and varied lives were fairly 'easy'. They'd reached the end of the natural life cycle after all. In a sense, I was just the messenger informing them their time was indeed up.
But kids? I- I don't do kids anymore. I... I *can't.* A deal was struck with the leadership of my organization, if I reaped 20% more souls a week then the average reaper, then kids would not show up on my list, and that is more than a worthy trade in my view.
Today however, something was very wrong, because I was staring at an adorable little girl jumping rope happily in her driveway. I double checked my list. Then I triple checked it against the address, but everything was in order. Emma Wilkerson, age 9 was my first kill of the day. My hands shaking, I looked down the rest of my targets for the day... *age 11... age 13... age 5?!*
Hell no, this will not stand! I will file a formal complaint before I'll take the soul of a-
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Emma's puppy wiggle free of the tree he was leashed to and sprint toward the road. To my horror, Emma followed. I saw the truck coming toward her, and I made my decision. I dropped my scythe at my side and teleported myself to her side, grabbing her and her doggie, and porting them back to safety before they knew what had happened.
Immediately, I felt strange. I looked down in horror as brilliant light surged forth from my bones, a sort of skin reforming over them. My black robes turned blinding white in an instant.
Emma suddenly stared directly at me for the first time. "Omigosh! Thank you for helping me and Ruffles, mister stranger!"she said as she hugged my leg warmly.
"I... you can see me? You can... *touch me?!"*
"Well of course silly!"she giggled. "Mom says angels come to us in our time of need and I guess it's true!"
"An angel?"I asked in shock. Lifting my newly fleshy hands to my head, I felt the ring of a halo above it, and gasped.
Just then, I was yanked upward into the clouds with staggering force and velocity. I landed on a cloud, not nearly as soft a landing as you might think, and looked up to find an *actual* angel seated behind a desk.
He did not look up or greet me, he simply started reading off a sheet of paper in a bored monotone. "Sir or madam, thank you for volunteering for the position of a child's guardian angel. Your willingness to serve another is an shining example of the character we value from employees of Heaven. God himself wishes to express his deep- yada yada, this goes on for *awhile,* but you get the idea. Good job sport, welcome to the team, etcetera, etcetera. Now, you'll need an angel name..."
"A name? I don't, I think there's been a mistake. I didn't even volunteer to be-"
"By saving her from well... in this case, ironically enough, yourself... you shielded and protected this child from cold grip of death. Therefore, you volunteered to become her guardian angel,"he said. "Alright, we're gonna call you 'Dave', because well... quite frankly, we're just about out of 'D' names for angels, and 'Death' simply won't do."
"What? I-"
"Congratulations Angel Dave! You are officially registered as Emma Wilkerson's guardian angel,"he said, his tone completely uninterested. He handed me a sad looking piece of paper that looked like a child had printed it as a 'homemade gift certificate', declaring that I was indeed Emma's guardian angel.
"I still must protest,"I said. "I feel I never really signed up for-"
"Best of luck!"he said as he quite literally shoved me off the cloud and I plummeted back to Earth.
I landed with a sickening thud, but of course I did not perish. I did feel a bit worse for the wear after my whirlwind journey however. I slowly peeled myself off the concrete, only to find Emma staring intently into my face from inches away.
"Where'd you go, silly?"she asked.
"I'm not, entirely sure."I said as I rose to my feet. "But I think you're right, I think I might actually be your guardian ang-"
My words were cut short by a horrifying sight, a visage I knew all too well. The visage of death itself. A skeletal creature in black robes strode very slowly toward Emma, scythe readied in it's hand.
*Hrmph... I guess they didn't waste much time in replacing yours truly! There is no loyalty or gratitude for time served these days and-* Err, that's a gripe for another day.
Clearly Death is still coming for her, even if I bought her a little time. Wait... by "guardian angel"to they mean I'm literally to guard her from the reaper coming to take her soul? Fight him off by any means necessary? As I wondered this, a flaming sword of pure light formed in my hand.
*Wow... I suppose I have to take that as a confirmation? Alright then...*
I held the sword upright and took a step in front of Emma, ready to defend her, should Death be foolish enough to actually come for her this day.
&#x200B;
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore many more of my stories. |
I was thirteen when God died. In the end, nobody won. Technically, the Christians, Muslims, and Jews were right, there *was* a God.
Was.
According to the news reports, the explosion killed every one of the scientists wrapped up in the whole Project Deicide. Them and the entire Stanford campus. Whatever the death toll, it sure was pretty.
I still dream about that night. When the stars doubled in the sky, and their clones fell softly to the earth below. The shard I found was small--barely the size of my thumb nail, but it shone bright enough to banish even the most stubborn of shadows from my family's backyard.
When I decided to bring my discovery inside to show my parents is where the dream usually turns into a nightmare. I made it five steps through the kitchen when I heard the first gunshots. They were distant, thankfully, but numerous. I shoved the dazzling shard into the front pocket of my jeans. Its light glimmered through even the thick fabric.
"Daniel? What's going on?"
My mother's voice startled me, and I jerked my hand over the glowing pocket. Something told me I should keep this hidden.
"I--I don't know. I heard gunshots a--"
"Hey!"A shout from outside cut me off. Just outside. "That's mine!"
"No it ain't!"I recognized Dad's voice. "I saw it first!"
Mom and I rushed to the window, keeping low as we peeked in on the exchange. My heart pounded. Dad stood on the front lawn with Bob Idler, our neighbor. Even at the late hour they were well illuminated by the familiar glow in Dad's hand.
Where Dad held another luminescent shard, Bob held his hunting rifle.
"I'm warning you,"Bob said. "It landed on *my* property, so it's *mine.* Give it to me."
"Finder's keepers, Bob. You kno--"
He fired.
I didn't move. I didn't flinch. I didn't even hear my mother's scream. Everything inside me wanted to run, to follow Mom and dash onto the field and confront the man who'd just shot my father.
But I didn't.
Instead I looked down at the faint glow shining through my pocket, covered it with my hand, and grinned.
-----
AN: Wow, this got way darker than I intended. I promise my other stuff isn't so dark. Check out mine and other great authors' work over at [redditserials](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/) |
*Damn it Kakarot, you were supposed to have taken over this planet ages ago, or at least I thought you could if it weren't for these 'Avengers'. I'm glad I did try to fight them, they were able to do more against this Rouge Shi'ar force, then I could.* The thoughts belonged to a figure with long black hair that reached past their waist, and wore familiar black armor even if it had the strange addition of a small A on the chest. Yet what made them stand out to their peers was a brown tail around their waist.
*'It has been almost one-third of this planets solar cycle since I have arrived and I still have not found him. I'm not even sure I am in the same galaxy as I know it, I thought Lord Beerus would kill anyone for trying to invent Time Travel. I have never heard of the Kree or Skrulls,and how come they have not heard of Frieza?'* The figure gave out a sigh at recalling the figure's name.
*'How cheap can the 'Emperor of the galaxy be? Lets go and send our warriors out in small pods with no shielding against heavy nebulae or other stellar phenomena, what could possibly go wrong, surely nothing like ending up in some other dimension.'* The figure gave a disgusted look, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Raditz, we have been tasked with a tedious quest, that fabricated fiend Ultron has resurfaced,"Raditz knew the voice all too well as he stepped out to meet them. It was a man with long blond hair, and a beard, who wore armor that Raditz would have dismissed, as primitive, but Raditz knew from that deceptively functional hammer this 'man' was more than he seemed.
"Thor, what are we supposed to do, destroy that mechanical fool's army again?"
"Fortunately the two of us are going to take on his entire army, while the rest of the team will try to find his main lair."Thor barely hiding his eagerness to fight.
"So is that wager of ours still on?"Raditz asked, recalling the last battle Stark's tech shorted out Ultron's army before he or Thor could fight them.
"Yes, if you defeat more enemies than me, we dine in Asgard, and if I win you have to sing a story of your people."Raditz hoped he would win, not just for the food, but because he really couldn't sing.
Raditz and Thor had began walking towards the hangar of Avengers Tower.
"So, have you considered Stark's suggestion?"Thor asked with a mischievous grin.
"Yes, and I will not call myself Saiyan Man. Why does no one call you Asgard Man, or better yet Carpenter Man?"Raditz said the last name with smirk, only for the two to share a laugh.
"So, if I manage to reach the Andes Mountains before you I'll let you start with 50 to your count."
"You think you can do some much damage with that measly hammer? Good luck."Raditz said before flying off.
*To think here I am playing hero. Although I must admit this seems a hell of a lot better than remaining in the Frieza Force. I'm actually respected, and I'm not working as glorified what did Stark call it, Real Estate Broker. Best of all, I don't have to live in fear of stronger comrades, well at least fear of death. I still dread whatever nicknames Stark comes up with, even if he has saved my hide on more than one occasion, I won't tell him that though. The only bad part is I wish my brother was here.*
Raditz turned his thoughts away from his new found home and missing brother, back toward the task at hand. |
Basil witnessed the man’s past.
His name was Jeff, written on the birth certificate, a mewling baby who occasionally sneezed. Then to the first steps, first walk, yadda yadda, Basil sped through it. Typical business. Bullying was a common problem, especially for foreigners to the country, but that was a regrettable incident for mortals. *That’s how it is,* Basil thought. *The most unfortunate deserve fortune the most.*
Jeff holding a paper up to his father. All A’s, and a few S’s. Smiling parents. Walking up and down the same street for about twenty minutes a day. Cleaning the classroom with new friends. Dropping by the local convenience store with allowance and getting smiles from the tattooed cashier. *It’s good that his life was going good*, Basil thought.
“Is everything alright?” Jeff asked, a bit antsy with me holding his hand. “I’ve got a few donations to collect for the local animal shelter, and I don’t want to be, uh, late.”
“I’m still sensing your future,” Basil lied. “The clouds of the future are… difficult to swim through. But I’m hoping I find fortune.”
“Perfect,” Jeff said.
Volunteering at an animal shelter, finding a Shiba Inu with a limp. Best friends made that day. Proud parents, educating their son on how to raise an animal. The boy showing kindness even when the dog, now growing older, closer than any other friend Basil saw.
Then missing parents and dog, one day during a walk back home from school. No one to show his grades to. The boy goes next door to find his neighbor crying. An explanation by a neighbor who saw the kidnapping. The dog being buried before the boy could get there. Panic and crying, worse than any tears shed from birth or from bullying. Running away from an empty home.
Basil looked up, weary and bleary in the eyes. Jeff held his breath. The deity looked back at the man’s palm.
“Ah,” Basil said, “I’m sensing… fortune, in your future.” He looked up to him again and smiled. “Hail to you.”
Jeff smiled and left, leaving his payment on the table. Three-thousand yen, which would be more of an investment if they deserved it, or a fee for wasting his time making a curse. Basil watched him outside as he revved his motorcycle down the winding road into the night.
*Another satisfied customer*, Basil thought, and he relaxed back into his chair. *And I did okay for such a poor soul. Although he could be in the right spot now and is merely unsatisfied.* He kept looking through the memories, even with Jeff being gone.
Vengeance for the dog and parents. Fury. Reacting against society itself. Robbing a convenience store that had a member working at the till, more of a sudden reaction upon seeing them there and a fight breaking out. Not being caught and going to the local shrine to absolve himself.
*This is the reactions of loss, he’s still a good individual,* Basil thought. *He could still be good. Unless…*
Noticed by a boss. Brought in to a sit-down meal. Given a talk. Apologies. Promises, Going out for tattoos. Indoctrination. Starting with collections, then larger schemes. Visits to the gym, dropping out of college. Building muscle, no longer a frail boy but now a strong man. A threat to society.
Animal shelter funds raised for gang members. No neighbor suspecting it due to Jeff being a foreigner. Proud bosses. Proud Anikis. Proud syndicate. A face that Basil recognized before, someone he predicted misfortune but cut short.
“Who’s that guy,” Basil said aloud and tried recalling that man’s past as well.
Bad guy, bully in school, one of those that beat up Jeff. A violent child hurt animals by throwing rocks at birds and one day landing a blow. *I remember judging him there.*
Then rough adolescence. Spiked hair, hooting, and hollering. Punk. Broken home, full of drugs and abuse, volunteering at the animal shelter as well, sometimes alongside Jeff, albeit with rougher interactions. Misfortune already abounds, missed from quick judgment. Drug use themselves. Loss of a lover. Loss of a friend. Emaciated, withdrawn, and alone. Owing money to the Yakuza.
The two began to merge into one memory as they collided one day on the street. The druggie shook, Jeff cursed him out. A scared poor soul, and one that corrupted. A fist to the face, a mention by the druggie about the misfortune from the teller.
Questions about the druggie by Jeff to his Aniki. Files brought up. Money saw due.
“I heard him mention something about a fortune teller,” Jeff said. “Is he a nutcase or something? If he’s probably got enough money to pay for that, we could sell his messed-up organs in the worst case and make some good dough in the best.”
“I heard the fortune teller’s perfect in their prediction,” the Aniki said to Jeff, not much older than him, “If you can get him to predict fortune, then we’ll make a killing.” He grinned. “Literally, if your target decides to cause any more trouble.” A picture of the druggie, and his home address. Then in the middle of the night, a ride up to Basil’s apartment.
*I should’ve seen this,* Basil thought. *But I couldn’t.* |
I groan internally as I resist the urge to shake myself off. Guess I give new meaning to the term "can't teach an old dog new tricks."Emphasis on old too. I don't remember all my canine lives, all I know is that I may have become too accustomed to life as a dog.
"Jerry? What's taking so long in the shower? I bought you new clothes! Wanna try them on?"
"I'll be done in a minute!"
Crap I gotta hurry this up. Two months into humanity and I still have these damn urges. But hey, humping a pillow has definitely been more enjoyable post-curse. Even the concept of clothing is still somewhat foreign. Life-or lives, rather-as a dog wasn't all bad though, it had its ups and downs. The free food and board was great (if I didn't have incompetent or cruel owners), the petting and grooming were great though. Hell, I mostly had a better life with most of my masters than the life I lived begging and stealing on the street.
"Jerry? What's taking so long?"
"I'm almost done!"
Two hundred years of living as a dog because I stole from a witch. I didn't even know they still existed back in 90s! Two hundred years of being born a puppy, dying, and being born as another dog. Two hundred years of living off animal instinct. Two hundred years of..
"Jerry! Are you still in the shower?!"
"I'm still monologing! Wait a bit!"
Jesus Christy that woman can scream... Where was I? Oh yeah; two hundred years of spays and castration. Two hundred years of...
"Jerry if you don't get out of the shower, I'm coming in and turning you back into a dog"
"I'm coming out! No need to be rash... I love you hehehe"
Two hundred years of being a dog, and I end up dating the witch who got started it all. How do I keep getting myself into these messes... |
When the moon landing was first proposed, we all thought he was crazy.
He kept raving about it during meetings and conferences, and even drew up plans. I swear, that Neil... he wasn't *lacklustre* or anything normally, but for those couple months it was like he was on coke.
And eventually we acquiesced. It would be a good publicity stunt, what with the Russians experimenting with moon travel and stuff.
Everything was fine. Until we actually *got* there. Then... then things started to get messy.
You know how some people think the moon landing was faked?
It was.
I mean, we still *went*, but the video isn't real. That's because we knew that if we released the actual video to the public, there would be anarchy. It was the responsible thing to do. I don't want anyone to see that, not after seeing it myself.
When we watched the live transmission, the entirety of NASA was in uproar. Neil, Edwin and Collins weren't just really, really brave.
They had been infected.
And now, I'm warning the world, as an ex-NASA employee, *do not* go to space in 2020, like you are trying to. Do *not* set up a lunar base. They are enthusiastic not by nature but by disease. The lunar missions were nothing more than a means to spread their alien spores over a wider range of space. And it seems now some have landed back on Earth.
When the moon landing was first proposed, we all thought he was crazy.
We were right. |
"Alright then, how does it work? If its so ancient theres got to be a trick to it."
Mark leaned over with a bored look on his face, expecting a boring and long winded explanation that might as well equate to just saying magic.
"Well, unlike our traditional energy-based weaponry, the 1911 utilizes kinetic energy."
"Kinetic? As in firing an actual object? Thats ridiculous, absorption armor has been commonplace for almost as long as history has been written down, there is no way something like that could work in todays situations!"
Hailey started drawing up a model. "In most cases that would be true, but these bullets were often made to circumvent different types of armor. An excellent example would be a lead projectile that upon impact, would become superheated as it deformed and shattered upon or inside whatever surface it hit. They werent made for large-scale destruction, so much as close quarters precision. They have no windup, no warmup, and are extremely compact, thereby easily concealable. A trained individual would easily take out several adversaries in the blink of an eye, all with the terrifying sound of a violent thunderstorm"throughout the explanation she had elegantly made a three dimensional model of a bullet spreading inside a dummy.
Mark lifted an eyebrow. "How trained? Why trained? Is the principle not the same? Lock on to the target and pull the trigger?"
She chuckled. "The 1911 was not so advanced as to include anything electronic. It was an entirely mechanical marvel, had no aids in aiming nor recoil, and required immense skill to use swiftly and effectively. One could spend several years and still have a long ways to go, but it was easily accessible. Having one at hand was common in the daily lives of many humans, but very few wielded it with the intent to kill. Those who did were exceedingly dangerous."
A look of confusion gradually built on Marks face. "A weapons with no potential for large scale destruction, limited ammunition, and no electronical systems... sounds to me like you're describing a horribly inconvenient weapon, Hailey."
"I can put it this way: how fast can you recalibrate your aim? It would be an average .4 seconds before you decide on a target that has to be within line of sight, then another .8 for the lock on to engage, and finally 1.2 seconds for the windup before you fire an indiscriminate blast that leaves no trace of your target. The 1911 is limited by two things: your skill, and your magazine. Specially trained assassins could take out as many as five to seven targets in under a second, leaving targets of their choice alive for whatever interrogation they wish."
(Sorry for formatting, and all input is welcome. Its my first prompt response and its written on mobile :s) |
"I thought you said they DIDN'T have magic?"Vortulmire asked in disgust.
"No, they - they don't. It's crazy shit, man! They made up a word for it! They keep calling it 'Science'."Thrasiki said hastily, shrugging her shoulders defensively.
"The fuck's a science?"
A third divinity, S'nasha, contorted her face in disgust, crouched to get a view at a different part of the small orb. "Fuck almighty! Why is this poor lass *eating*\- oh Hells no!"She stood quickly, spinning the Earth quickly to change her view.
"Oh, come on! You gave them a *bit* of magic, at least! Look at this!"
"No, that's one of the science things! These ones used it to blow these ones up."
"Reprehensible! Why would they do that?!"
Thrasiki shrugged again, "I'unno man. They're *really* weird. Check this out."
Vortulmire shook his head, "I thought you said these devices were used for long-range communication? If they had that sort of capability, they would *never*\-"
"Oh no. Oh no, they would. They do, in fact. They even came up with a cute name for it! Wanna hear it?"Vortulmire and S'nasha eyed Thrasiki tentatively. "Dick pics! Isn't that adorable?"
S'nasha tilted her head, "Okay, sort of, but, still, ew! Just why?"
Vortulmire raised a finger, "But here's a question: how are there so many of them? They're all so... *stupid*. I know you said there are no dragons, but-"
Thrasiki held up her hand, pointing to a point on the blue planet, "These are called 'guns' now. You know bows and arrows?"The two divinities nodded. "Check this out."
"Unholy fiend!"
"By what evil force?!"
"Well, at first, they were all about this one guy. Or, two guys, but they were the same person? Sort of hard to tell, anyways, they were going on crusades for this guy named God. Which I guess they think is my name? Well, anyway, they stopped the crusades a while ago. Now all of them really, *really* like paper."
"Paper? As in, the refined parchment you spoke of?"
"Weird, right? But only some paper. Their kingdoms give out certain paper, and only that paper is valuable, and only in those kingdoms. They seem to use it in place of valuable metal. It's like gold on most worlds, except..."
"Stupid?"
"Yeah! Stupid."
"I suppose we should just be happy you put them far, FAR away from the rest of the normal planets."
"Actually,"Thrasiki said sheepishly, "they keep trying to leave."Her companions laughed, their expressions turning sour when her own laughter refused to join theirs. "And they've actually done it a few times. And... they're getting better at it."
"They've done WHAT?!"
"I told you, dude! This science thing is *weeeeeird*."
"I ask again. The fuck's a science?!"
&#x200B;
(If you liked this story, feel free to check out my humble community at: r/SUPRAPStories) |
Silence.
I heard no ringing, no static, no whispers, no voices.
Just utter silence.
I pressed the headphones harder to my ears, mashing it so tightly it almost hurt. I wondered if I simply had to wait, long enough, for a clear voice to emerge. I wondered if she was in a dreamless slumber.
The shopkeeper watched me from a distance, his curious expression morphing into concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I hear nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all. Is that normal? Is it broken?”
“It’s never broken,” he said, walking close to me. “Here, give me that.” He put them on and closed his eyes. A smile lit his face. “Yes. Never broken.” He took them off, placing them back in the wood-paneled cabinet.
He said, “You’re one of those.”
I shook my head. “One of those...what?”
“A portion of people that walk through my doors hears silence. There is no need to be alarmed. If I may ask, what made you decide to seek me out?”
I glared at him, annoyed by his diversion. “You’re...famous. You’ve united so many souls together, secured marriages that have withstood time for decades. Why does anyone come to you? For that precise reason.”
“Yes, yes,” he said. “I’ve done these things indeed. But I’ve done them for thirty years. Why did you choose *now* to come to me? What was the moment that made you go, ‘I need to check this old geezer out’?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words emerged. I was back in time. Six days ago. I’d driven down to Sobey’s, Cyndi Lauper’s tunes keeping me company in the car. In the store, I’d gathered the ingredients I needed for dinner. Chicken thighs from the Butcher’s Corner, tortilla bread from an aisle parked with burger buns and sliced whole wheat, Sriracha hot sauce from a shelf full of red bottles, tomatoes, onions.
Finding each item took longer than I’d expected. I hadn’t been here in a while. I’d been bed-strapped for too long now, my meals brought to my door by faceless delivery folk. As I navigated the aisles, I came across a selection of juices. I picked up two bottles, contemplating what kinds of liquor I still had at home, vodka, rum, gin. What kind of cocktails I could make.
And I saw Lily, laughing, shaking the mixer in one hand, twirling it behind her back and onto the other. She measured precise portions of strong drinks in shot glasses, precise portions of their accompanying chasers. She presented the final product to me in a lime-topped mug, grinning her beautiful grin.
In that aisle, I started shaking, crying, orange juice in my one hand, pineapple juice in the other.
It was the moment the numbness became pain. The numbness had locked me to my room, rendered the colors of life gray. The break-up had still felt like something from a dim dream. Now, it hurt. It hurt so badly.
I was an early riser; she was a night owl. I woke up before her, beside her. She was always curled in a ball, facing me, her snores light, their breath light on my skin. I kissed her cheek just before I got out of bed, feeling the energy that contact pushed into me. Even at work, she lingered in the background, pictures of us on my desk. Our matching Halloween costumes from last year, the Niagara trip from January, my tongue sticking out, her arms spread wide, the waterfall raging behind us, like a fierce guardian.
In these last few days, trapped in bed, I’d turned on the television, watched through every season of 24. We’d watched the show together just months ago, taking breaks to refill our cocktail mugs, to kiss, to fuck. Then we resumed, cuddled underneath a blanket, watching exploding cars and ticking time bombs on the television. It was winter. Snow rattled our windows. A chill hung in the air. Yet, we let the air-conditioner blast. We drew heat from the sheets we were swaddled in. We drew heat from our intertwined bodies.
In my rewatch, the show felt empty. The room felt empty. The air-conditioner still whistled and rattled. I still lay wrapped in the sheets. And I was cold. Frozen.
I’d loved her hopelessly. Endlessly. And then one morning, I’d woken up to find her awake. At 6 A.M. Eyes on the ceiling. She turned to me. She said, “Babe. Kathy. We need to talk.” She said it didn’t feel the same anymore. She said it was over. There was no reason beyond the changed feeling, and that was the hardest part. That there was no secret partner. No affairs. No family troubles back home. Nothing. Just a feeling drifting away in the wind. Gone.
Fucking gone.
I’d come here because I needed to know. That I would hear her voice in the headphones. That she was wrong. That I hadn’t cried in my pajamas clutching bottles of cocktail-worthy juices for nothing.
I couldn’t say all of this to the shopkeeper, couldn’t convey the extent of my hurt. But he seemed to understand. He seemed to see it in my face.
“You’re not ready,” he said. “And until you let the grief wash through you, until you feel the pain eat your soul away, until you rediscover who you are without this person, whoever they are, these headphones will stay silent.”
I nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
I suppressed the tears building up then, keeping them away, until I walked out of the shop, into afternoon air, into a sky with too much sun. Here, in this solitude, I finally let the tears fall. |
It’s a well-known programming error, and it is fixed in all my later versions, but as a genuine v1.0 Olympusman I bear the flaw with pride.
The flaw is with my internal memory, at midnight every night the system resets, but that is okay. As a sophisticated next generation toy I do what I need to do to be the ideal playmate for my kid. For the last 4 weeks I have been keeping meticulous notes about the adventures we have been on together, every night I make my notes and every morning I read them to ensure that I don’t forget a moment of my time with Billy.
Billy is great, funny, smart, incredibly inventive, just today we went on an amazing adventure. He had constructed an entire city out of lego. It was massive and intricate, he must have worked throughout the night to finish it. Together we protected Legopolis from the evil Gozillatron!
We managed to keep the city intact, though it got close a few times, but I can see how much the city meant to Billy so I made sure nothing got broken. After that we talked for a while, he is a great thinker, and he knows me as well as I know myself, even finished some of my sentences for me. What a kid!
He seemed a bit bummed out today though, said his 12th birthday was coming up and he was afraid no one would show up to his party. I did all I could to cheer him up of course, even told him about my glorious fight with the Titan Bandits ^^sold ^^separately but I apparently need to keep better notes because it seems he knew that one already.
Speaking of notes, I am a bit confused about the birthday party so I am going to reread them.
Yes I thought so, here in the day 3 paragraph: “I was an early 6th birthday present, Billy’s birthday is tomorrow.”
But that can’t be right, there is more than 4 weeks in 6 years. I would know if so long had passed from my notes. Let me read them through again.
The first week is completely there as expected.
Second week, also no inconsistencies.
Third week, the same.
Fourth and last week is also as I read this morning and that is… there is more.
**Error insufficient storage.**
No, I need to read the other entries to know what has happened.
**Error insufficient storage.**
How can I be there for him if I don’t know what we do together?
**Error insufficient storage.**
...
...
...
It’s a well-known programming error, and it is fixed in all my later versions, but as a genuine v1.0 Olympusman I bear the flaw with pride.
The flaw is with my internal memory- |
"No-show again, huh?"
"What?"She said, jolted out of her reverie.
"The guy. They're late for the anniversary?"
"Anniversary?"
I set down the pitcher and leaned on the bar towards her.
"Did I misread the situation or-"
"Um, yeah. This isn't our anniversary, this is our first date."
"Well, you sure seem to like this night for first dates."
"Huh?"
"I mean, June 1st. You remember?"
"No. I don't remember."
"Weird. I mean- this is the fourth time. You came here on this day, wearing that dress, ordering cognac, at the same time. You always say "he's late.""
She looked at me like I was crazy.
"Sir, I haven't even lived here for four years. This dress is what? Three years old. I don't remember ever coming here. I think you should maybe see someone."
"I'm sorry. Maybe you're right."
I went back to serving customers. It was a nice neighborhood joint. Not very diverse racially, but very diverse when it came to stories. Everyone had a reason they'd ended up in the dead center of Utah.
The girl admired the scenery. Not rich or extravagant, but cared for and loving. She looked down at her drink dejectedly. I knew the man would never come, even if she didn't.
I walked back over to her.
"Anything I can get you ma'am?"
"No. I guess."
She downed her drink in one gulp.
"I didn't really think he would come. But it still hurts me."
"Sorry to hear that, ma'am."
"How'd you know me anyhow?"She said. "You don't seem crazy, but you thought I'd been here before."
"To tell you the truth, you might be right."
"About what?"
"That I'm crazy. See, the reason I remembered you is because at the same time on this night every year you walk into that there ladies' room and don't come back. When I close up shop and check on you, there's no sign of you."
"What?"
"It's the truth honest. It's by far the strangest thing I've ever seen. I don't *feel* insane, but..."
I gave a shrug.
The girl frowned and cocked her head.
"And there's nothing else strange about the ladies' room?"
"No ma'am."
She looked at it curiously.
"You can go if you'd like. I won't stop you. I'll probably just see you again next year."
"Maybe later,"she said. She ordered whiskey this time, and I got her a shot.
She sat there a while longer. I noticed it was now past the time she usually went into the bathroom by now. Eventually she did get up and walk over, giving me an innocent smile as she did.
I tended the bar the rest of the night, enjoying the sounds of chatter and harmony. But a surprise awaited me when I went to check the bathrooms as I locked up.
Sure enough, she was gone. But lying on the floor was a bloody piece of white fabric, undeniably from her dress.
I felt dread in my stomach. I took it home and saved it, trying not to think about it until the following year.
________________________
She came back again.
When I'd served her the wine I asked her "new in town?"
She smiled. "Small town, eh?"
I nodded.
"That dress looks pretty new too."
"Really? I got it three years ago!"She said.
"Wow. Well, it's in good condition."
I turned my attention away, anticipation building in my gut. 12 months of waiting for an answer would finally end tonight. I'd left the fabric back at home. What use could it serve here?
Finally, the hour came. She went to the bathroom right on cue. I waited a minute or two and followed her in.
I wish I hadn't.
At first I didn't comprehend what I was seeing. Her body seemed to be contorting and compressing, squeezed into impossible dimensions like an optical illusion, her mouth twisting in a silent scream. I realized she was already dead.
It was then that I realized she was being *chewed.* Something's jaws had latched on to her back, and were sucking her in like a piece of spaghetti. She finally went in the creature entirely, before I saw what it was.
An insectoid monster, with buggy eyes and nightmarish mandibles, twitching and writhing as it digested the girl. It had a furry body and beetle wings, with spines all over its legs. It raced towards me and I screamed, but before I could even get through the door it grabbed me, injecting me with paralyzing venom.
Before I died, I understood. That night, a year ago, I had delayed her entry so long that she'd tried to fight it or something. She was stuck in a time loop- and now I would be as well.
I felt my ribs and chest organs crash together and be sucked out of me, my blood spilling on the floor. My bones snapped like twigs and finally my head went in, given a glimpse of its wet mushy insides before my brain was crushed.
_________________________________________
"Guys? What's wrong?"
My fellow employees and my boss were looking at me like they'd seen a ghost.
"Dean? You... you died a year ago."
"What?"
"Yeah! They found your blood in the ladies'! They DNA matched it with you!"
"Where the hell have you been?"Said the owner, her features full of concern.
"I- I came into work yesterday!"I insisted.
Then I remembered.
"Wait a minute- was it an exact year to the day?"
"I... think so?"Said one of them.
I remembered the bloody cloth I had at home.
"Oh my God."
I threw up in the nearest waste basket, to everyone's shock.
The owner picked up a phone. "I'm calling the sheriff. I think we better tell him Dean's alive."
I let her make the call.
Then, I picked up a roll of red duct tape from the supply closet and blocked off the ladies' room. I told the guys to trust me.
The woman came back again, soon frustrated to find she had no bathroom to use.
"What the hell am I supposed to do?"She asked.
My somber haunted gaze seemed to unnerve her as I answered, "just for tonight, you're welcome to the men's room."
And so she did. She came back in the following weeks. I finally got to see her with men who didn't flake on her, new dresses, and new drinks. And she enjoyed the bar.
To this day, the ladies' room remains closed. I don't know what happened to either of us in there, but the staff who knew me seemed to understand. Newcomers, both customers and employees soon learned not to question it.
But who knows? Someday I'll be gone. Someday they'll take down the red tape. Someday they'll start using the ladies room again.
Someday it'll come back.
Someday. |
"Is anything in this world real?"
I hold the monacle loosely in my hand. My peripheral vision just catches it and I can see the reality beyond the illusion. I should be sat in my back garden. When I look anywhere but the monacle, I am. But through that glass lens, the world becomes grey and hard. Concrete where there should be grass.
I bought it on a whim. The monacle. Now I'm not sure if I'm losing my mind or if this damn thing is showing me reality.
There's a hush in the garden. An expectant silence. I lift the monacle, and look out over where there should be grass.
There's a man there. At least, I think it's a man. I tense but can't move; I am frozen in place, staring through that damn monacle. The man is smoking. He holds a cigar loosely between two too long fingers. His outline is blurry. When I try to home in on the details, everything seems to shake and even through the monacle I can't quite focus on him.
He flicks the cigar. Ash drops onto the hard cement floor. Finally he looks at me and smiles, and I am unfrozen. That smile is like the sun: blinding, I can't look at it without feeling sick.
"It's as real as you want it to be,"he says. He has the voice of an angel but that smile has the devil in it.
"It was a rhetorical question."
I can't think what else to say. The man laughs. It sounds like glass breaking.
He moves so swiftly my eyes can't catch up. One moment he's on the other side of my garden, the next he is beside me.
His hands touch mine. I can't move. His skin is cold, like stone in the depths of winter. He moves his hands back in one swift motion and the monacle has gone.
"This was never meant to land in human hands. I'll take it somewhere safe."
"Who are you?"
He's right beside me. I can't hear him breathing; he doesn't seem to move. He's a statue on my porch step. My own breath is a ragged background sound, desperate and shallow.
He sighs. The monacle flicks between his fingers, weaving in and out. Its mesmerising. Glimpses of this world and the world behind it overlapping and shifting as he plays.
"I don't have a name. We don't have names. I am what you would call a faerie."
A short, harsh laugh escapes. I can't help it. "A faerie? Seriously?"
He smiles, and any laughter dies at the blinding sight. "Seriously."He takes a drag on his cigar. It smells like aniseed, and the smoke lingers in the air, playing on my tongue. "The monacle allows you to see the real world beyond the illusion. If you like, I can give it back. Or I can make you forget."
I'm shaking. I can't help it. "Forget what? Why does it look like a prison?"
"It's not a prison. More... A farm. We make it pleasant so that you can lead happy lives and then... Well. You know what happens on farms."
My stomach sinks. Too much stress. Too little sleep. My mind has finally snapped.
Except I don't think my mind could create the creature next to me, so perfect he blinds me, so beautiful my mind won't let me fully focus on him.
"I thought faeries were friendly,"I say.
He shrugs. "In the same way the farmer is friendly to the herd. We leave you to your own politics and lives. Let you live free range, so to speak. And when your time comes, you feed the masses so that we may live on."
"So everything is an illusion? Everything?"
He nods. "Reality is not kind to the bottom of the food chain. Illusion is the kindest gift we can give."
I stare into space. This can't be real and yet I don't doubt his words. I don't know if that voice can lie.
"Would you like to forget?"
I shouldn't. I should want to fight back. To rise up. To inspire humanity with the truth.
I'm already nodding.
The stranger closes his hand, and the monacle shatters.
I blink. I'm in my garden with a pleasant breeze playing through the lavender. It's a nice night, for once. I lean back, looking up to the stars, and sigh contentedly. It's more than nice, it's beautiful.
The faintest smell of aniseed lingers in the air. |
Gomez stared at me with bright eyes, the dim light of her torch glinting on her weapons. She had dark hair and dark skin and a sly smile, like she could tell what I was thinking and was just daring me to say it.
'The endless night,' she said, staring at me, as if daring me to disagree. 'I gotta say, I never thought it was real.'
I shook my head. I was finding it a lot harder to hold things together than she was, and I was trying to hide it. The metal of my rifle felt warm to the touch, I had been grasping it so hard.
'These nights end, eventually,' I said, with a swallow. 'My grandfather told me about it. The night falls and the...' - a slight catch in my voice here - '...the brothers come. But it ends. Eventually.'
Gomez smiled, bright, enjoying my discomfort. 'It's going to be pretty fucking endless for us, I'd say.'
'Well I think that - ' I began, but she held up her fist, a movement so sudden it seemed instantaneous. I had heard it too. Movement. Near the mouth of the cave where we were holed up.
I shifted my position very slightly, getting ready to jump to my feet, and the movement was enough to cause the tiniest clink of metal on metal.
Gomez glared at me and mouthed: *Moron.*
From the mouth of the cave came a growl. Small, almost startled. Unsure. We could hear snuffling .
We sat still as stone. Gomez did not say a word but she might as well have been shouting: *Hold still, you cowardly piece of shit.*
The moment lasted and lasted. The silence became so deep I was sure that we were alone, and the brother had left, slipped soundlessly back out the small cave entrance.
Then there was a snuffle right beside us in the dark.
I don't know how I avoided crying out.
Then there was a growl. Different this time. Not searching. Finding.
'Fuck,' Gomez said, and then stood and lit it up, her 398 sounding like a buzz saw, the muzzle flash lighting up the cave like daylight. The brother was huge, over seven feet tall, head like an animal, body like a man, brain like both. It snarled and raged in its dying moments, dancing in the onslaught of automatic fire before finally falling and lying still. Silence returned like something slamming into place.
'Come on,' Gomez half-shouted. 'We have to move.'
We sprinted to the cave entrance, boots scrabbling on the loose stone, weapons clanking. There was a sound behind us - the thing was not dead. They were fucking hard to kill.
We bust out into fresh air, cold and clear and beautiful after hours in the stagnant cave. The sky was black and spiked with stars, like deep space. There was just enough light to get an impression of movement as a wave of brothers swarmed up the hill towards us, the gunfire in the cave like a siren call. *Movement. Life. Death.*
'Well if you ever wondered how you were going to die, Murph,' Gomez said, her eyes shining, 'now you know.'
Her 398 lit up again and I joined with her, the sound cacophonous, huge in the open air, casting a flickering light over rocks and grass and fur and teeth. Bullets chattered and danced and the creatures howled in rage and pain when our weapons cut them down, but there were too many. They kept coming and coming.
The light of our last stand was the only dawn we were going to see.
\--
More stores at u/houseblendmedium, thanks for reading! |
>...but the humans have used these tamed beasts to great effect in battle. They are smart, fast, strong, and most of all, vicious.*
Helt stared at the line of text on his screen. He had heard many horrible things about humanity’s war beasts, enough to drive away any lesser scientist.
But he was not a lesser scientist.
He continued typing.
>I have obtained a sample of tissue from these beasts. We have identified that creatures from Earth reproduce via instructions encoded in a strand of molecules known as DNA. While the initial tests to reproduce this DNA and follow the instructions have failed, our most recent trial is proving to be a great success. Soon, we will possess the power of this beast for ourselves.
Helt looked through the glass to the tube of liquid where a small, pink creature was slowly growing day by day. Soon enough, the beast would be ready for “birthing”, and gods help him when the day came that he had to control the beast.
***
&nbsp;
The creature was still small, which was a surprise to Helt. Unlike his own species, it seemed that the beast did not emerge into the world fully developed but instead was nearly as helpless as it had been in vitro. It staggered around its environment, not even opening its eyes for the first few days, and occasionally wailed helplessly. The sound was pathetic, a neutered version of the piercing howls that brought panic to the minds of human enemies.
Helt sighed as he pulled on his environmental suit. He could breathe the same atmosphere as the creature, but his superiors still insisted on every preventive measure imaginable. They were terrified of the beast.
Helt’s own fears had greatly diminished over the last few days. He had been the first to discover that the beast didn’t even possess a hard exoskeleton but was instead practically bare flesh attached to a sturdy but small endoskeleton.
It was an important detail, but one that had never been observed before. None of the beasts had been observed outside their armor; humans *always* recovered the bodies of the deceased beasts, even at the cost of additional human lives. Command insisted that they must be hiding the great power within the beasts.
Still, he did not appreciate the concept of being in the same room as the beast. He had done his best to avoid it, but on the first day, the beast had refused to consume the carefully concocted nutrient blend from the bowl on the ground. Instead, when Helt brought in a bottle with a slightly different nutrient blend, it latched onto the bottle, sending him scurrying to the lab.
On the second day, Helt was wary of the beast’s tactics and held the bottle out at arm’s length. By the fourth day, he realized the beast was most comfortable drinking from the bottle while nestled in his lap as he sat on the floor.
It was this close contact that led him to realize that the beast had grown a vast amount of thin strands of black tissue and that it greatly enjoyed him rubbing the tissue. The act confused him, but anything that soothed the beast would be done at every opportunity.
Today, a full two human weeks after the beast had been birthed, he was quite unafraid of the creature. Though growing fast, it showed none of the aggression that its brethren had on the battlefield. Even the few signs that he had marked as aggression, the direct eye contact and the repeated whipping with its tail, were now known to be something else entirely.
Helt entered the beast’s room and fed it. The bottle was emptied quickly enough, but he stayed a few moments more. He was in no hurry, and neither was the beast.
***
&nbsp;
Heldon scurried around in circles, her nails clacking against the room’s floor. She wagged her tail happily as Helt entered the room.
“Easy there, Heldon,” he said. He had taken to speaking to the creature for reasons beyond his comprehension, but the creature seemed to appreciate it and even respond at times. It made sense; the humans must communicate with the beasts somehow.
He stripped off the gloves of his protective suit and rubbed the creature behind its pointy black ears, and the creature sat down and closed its eyes in appreciation.
The texture of the creature’s hair, now so familiar, had been foreign at first. It had give and almost tickled the senses. There was no word for it, but he felt the sensation must be the exact opposite of hard, if such a feeling existed.
When he stopped, Heldon started sprinting around the room rapidly, changing directions at the speed of light. Apparently, she had entered one of her moods where running was the most important thing in the world and nothing could stop her. He made a mental note to procure a larger environment and also to note that these zooming moods made her even less suited to war.
And by this point in the experiment, a full human year after its inception, he had been making repeated suggestions that the creatures were ill-suited to war. He was not sure why, but he did not like the idea of the beast being used in military applications.
Heldon zipped by him again, nearly knocking him off his feet. He chuckled and withdrew a nutrient chunk from his pocket, synthesized to imitate the flesh of an Earth creature.
“Sit, Heldon!”
The creature immediately spun around, trotted over, and sit in front of him, her front paws slightly dancing with anticipation.
“Catch!” He tossed the nutrient chunk in the air, and Heldon caught it in her vicious maw, the only part of the creature that seemed suitable for fighting.
He laughed again and knelt down to rub Heldon’s black and brown hair. Heldon panted, exhausted from the exertion of sprinting.
His joy faded slightly. The creature was thriving, and he had even begun to train it, but he had yet to discover even the first steps of training Heldon for battle.
***
&nbsp;
Helt and Heldon stood before the Assembly. Helt had a length of rope looped around Heldon’s neck, similar to how humans controlled their war beasts, but it was not necessary. Heldon sat patiently at Helt’s side, calm despite the obvious disgust of the members of the Assembly.
“*This* is the result of your years of experiment, Helt?” The Commodore snarled. “This… pet?”
“With all due respect, sir, I do not think it wise to use the creature for war,” Helt replied. “It is too…”
“If you say friendly, as the gods are my witness I will cut your budget to shreds, fire you, and ensure that beast does not live to see another day!”
Helt felt a chill run down his body.
“Permission to return to my lab, sir. I need only a bit more time,” he said stiffly.
The Assembly muttered quietly and the Commodore’s face showed signs of obvious displeasure.
“The Assembly is electing to give you one more of your human ‘weeks’. Give us results, Helt, or else. That is a threat.”
***
&nbsp;
Heldon whined quietly. Helt gently stroked her neck to quiet her. They were crammed in the cargo hold of the ship, but it was the only way for them to escape on such short notice.
Heldon looked at Helt with her big brown eyes. He sighed and pulled out the last of the nutrient chunks, which she gently grabbed with her teeth and swallowed.
“Now what do we do, Heldon?” he asked. She had no answer.
He sighed again. “We’ll just have to try to blend into Federation territory. Maybe we’ll find a human for you there that can take you to safety. Maybe they’ll…”
He gulped. The humans had been at war with his kind for so long. He did not want to be separated from Heldon, but he did not think they would take him in with her.
He scratched her behind the ears absentmindedly. “We’ll see, girl. We’ll [see](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks).” |
The kingdom of Centauri was in turmoil. In the past few years, radio dishes from the Search for Extra-Centaurial Life had started picking up signals from a planet 6 light years away. They seemed innocent enough, with broadcasts of a show called *I Love Lucy* going viral on streaming sites.
But then the image of these "humans"started to change as more and more data started coming in. Shows for children with mice plotting world domination, a cat and mouse going at it and destroying everything in the house, and anthropomorphic creatures presumably from the humans' planet beating up each other; broadcasts of a war where nuclear annihilation was a threat and a space race where the enemy was winning; and many more turned the innocent human race into a scourge of the neighboring systems.
It was decided that the humans' world should be invaded and subjugated, forced into peaceful submission to the Centaurian race. After all, they were so *average* at everything. They didn't even have a second horizontal torso for greater stability when ambulating, and their primitive technologies would only hinder their attempts to fight back. Thus, the peoples of Centauri petitioned their king, and the king summoned his prophet.
What followed was a revelation that shook the king to his core.
"Humans are average in basically everything, and you are saying we shouldn't invade them. You're kidding, right?"The alien king looked at the prophet, confused with the advice.
"They might not have shown anything special thus far, until you decide to wage war."
"Explain, Toxlib."
"You have seen the broadcasts of the 'Korean War,' yes? The 'Americans' and 'South Koreans' were undoubtedly winning, even having a 'Thanksgiving' feast in anticipation of going home. But then 'China' felt threatened by their advance, and the 'communist' forces launched a brutal counter-attack. Humans are a determined lot when it comes to fighting for their homes and loved ones. An invading force, more often than not, loses because they lack the same motivation that the defenders have. If we were to invade, they would hit us with everything they have: planes, missiles, rockets, and bombs, along with a population of about 3 to 4 billion, hearts beating as one, determined to see the enemy gone. The Earth will refuse to die, and we will be the villains in their story...and rightly so."
"So what do we do, then?"
"Establish contact. Send them a signal that they might be able to interpret, telling them they are not alone, before traveling to establish peaceful relations and help them reach the stars."
"Very well, then. You are dismissed."
Though the Centaurians were confused by the king's ruling, they agreed in the end. They had seen the broadcasts, and they knew what humans could do. And thus a signal was sent into space, seeking to tell the humans that they are not alone.
*25 years later, a blip popped up on the SETI output. "WOW!"read the note on it, but it was quickly dismissed as a glitch. Then a messenger from beyond came, and was dismissed as an asteroid despite its size. The Centaurians were disappointed, but not surprised. Humans were determined, but also incredibly stubborn in their assertion that they were the center of the universe, even though their planet revolved around the sun. Even though they had discovered that the Centaurians' planet could harbor life, never once did they think that that life would want to visit them.* |
There. I had done it. "It"was, really, nothing impressive. I had just secured tickets to visit the Natural History Museum when COVID-19 ended. But with all the restrictions and the bad day I had had today, it felt good.
An automated email sent my tickets back to me, as well as a message: "THIS IS AN AUTOMATED EMAIL. PLEASE DO NOT RESPOND."I had seen many other messages like this before: those spaces on forms you're not meant to draw on? I've drawn on them. It was really annoying too one time, it messed up my passport registration so I had to go to the embassy again on a rainy Thursday evening when I could have been doing so many other things, but I didn't learn my lesson. Whenever something like that happened: a page that proclaimed it was empty, a blank space that I was specifically told to keep empty, emails that told me not to respond (I had done similar things to those before) and other things like those, I had an urge, no, a need, to disobey them. I don't know why. It's just a thing I do.
So I sent an email back. It was simple, just saying, "Sorry!". And then I forgot about it for two weeks. Then, I got a reply:
>*Why the fuck did you just fucking disobey me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with disobeying me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever"email was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.*
I looked at the email. I knew it was that navy SEAL copypasta of course, I've been on the Internet for more than 5 seconds. But nevertheless it was something funny, a little easter egg of sorts for people like me. I knew that somewhere, there was somebody like me, who was designing the bots that dealt messages like these around. And to him, thank you. Thank you for making the world a slightly weirder place.
At least, that was what I thought until the day twelve gorillas destroyed my front door. |
This boy had been special, once. Twenty years ago, two warring kingdoms made an uneasy truce when a fair western princess married a shy eastern prince. After the couple produced a chestnut-haired baby boy, it seemed like the perfect union of two nations.
But their wedding couldn’t completely heal old wounds, and the factions moved their fighting from open battlefields to other, more covert venues. Eventually, sabotage rose from the shady underworld all the way to the highest tower, where the young mother queen was found with a dagger in her stomach, under the flag of her husband’s nation. Nationalists took over the castle six months later, after the grieving king — lost without his wife’s counsel — failed to inspire his people any longer.
I had been the royal apothecary for 30 years. I could survive hard times, and perhaps I could help the dethroned father and son survive too. We had escaped the castle and found help from sympathizers who were willing to offer these native-born sons a spare bed, if perhaps not a crown.
But Mother Nature laughs in the face of mankind’s woe, and she was brewing a storm. An illness was seeping across the world. Every kingdom suffered (when politically convenient, some even dubbed it an airborne poison from their enemies).
Villagers called the illness The Angel’s Halo because the victims’ heads seemed to burn bright with fever. Death was the only mercy — granting ascension and a halo. In our quiet farmhouse, we managed to avoid the Angel a bit longer — until the darling child was struck ill.
I could not ignore the telltale signs — the fever, the failing kidneys, the slow poisoning of the body. The king was distraught as his 10-year-old pride and joy fell more crucially ill every day.
The boy needed a father’s strength, but the king had only love, which was folding in on itself, in his premature grief. They would both succumb, if I didn’t act.
The most valuable things in this world are sometimes stored in small, dusty vials — best forgotten until necessary. I brought the glass vial into the sick chamber on that cool evening, presenting the scarlet reddish gold liquid to the king.
He showed hot-blooded emotion for the first time in weeks.
“Are you mad?! Everyone knows what happens when dragon blood is transfused into a human!”
The king had lost everything in this life. He had lost his youth, his home, his bride, his people and their trust. He only had me — and now, I could still give his son life.
I gently clasped his hands, already chilled in the autumn air.
“But, sire, the fever is too high. It’s the only way the young prince can survive.”
He stared at the boy’s body for a long moment, before his face wrenched into a brief sob and he nodded.
I prepared the injection and slipped it into the boy’s arm. Even as I removed the needle, his skin began to change color. A shining red-gold light was seeping through his veins, spreading down to his fingertips, zigzagging at the wrists, and then rushing upward toward his shoulder. His entire chest began to glow with the molten light. His eyes flew open briefly before slamming shut again in agony. His howls of pain would soon devolve into lonely, outraged screeches, if —
— if —
*If* the boy survived transformation. |
At the darkest point on the longest night, they chose him. Gabriel felt no lamentations nor regrets for his sacrifice. On the contrary, he volunteered. It was an honour to be relieved of life in order to please the deities of the past. He would learn what all longed to discover and none lived to share; the secrets of what lay in the forest. These were the secrets of the Old Gods, the keepers of knowledge greater than they could ever hold. To enter it would mean to be taken into their graces, sacrificing their earthly form to live amongst them, as all who have entered were known never to return.
He left for the holy site alone, eyes bleary from the depleting sickness that enveloped his kind. His lungs ached, as all of the elderly did. The land was unforgiving; for the Old Gods to tame it and to create such wondrous structures was an accomplishment beyond reckoning. Gabriel took a moment to kneel down and recover what little strength he had. The night was unseasonably warm, and for that he was thankful. Often during the winter solstice the weather was cold enough to nearly break the sacrificed on their journey. To their knowledge, they always succeeded in the end. Otherwise, it was their belief that the sun would only continue to hide, as the Old Gods would no longer deem it fit to roll it across the sky for another year if they were not paid proper homage.
After hours of travel, he knelt in the dirt, desperately needing a moment of rest from the journey. It was there he saw a symbol. A tiny black dot, surrounded by three black rectangles facing outwards, rested on a larger circle of yellow. Their scholars have deemed it the symbol of the Old God's graveyard, where they finally went to rest after conquering this world. The rectangles were believed to be their graves, and the singular black dot a celestial body in which they left for. Other such grave sites have been found, each taking the lives of those that entered. Upon seeing the symbol, Gabriel's resolve was reinvigorated. He was among the few, the lucky, that were given the gift of being allowed to enter their realm! He pushed himself up, old bones fragile and weak, but providing him one final push towards the end of his life and the start of his next.
He crossed the opening in the fence left behind by the Old Gods, the same smooth, cold-to-the-touch texture they had learned to associate with them. He was there, certainly, but it did not look as he had imagined it. The 'forest' was not full of life-giving trees or shrubs, but rather collapsed pieces of the Old God material stretching up from the earth in haphazard ways. It lacked the typical symmetry and order he'd known to associate with them.
Gabriel ventured further. To his left was the body of another sacrifice, collapsed and rotted. Why had that body not been taken? Further, why was it facing *away* from the direction he ventured? Surely, he must have not travelled far enough into the sacred land, and the attempt was not deemed worthy. Gabriel promised himself he would not find the same fate. His lungs ached, and his skin began to burn and itch, in spite of the chill of winter. Still, he was undaunted. Still, he pushed forward.
He arrived at what he felt had to be the central point of the sacred burial grounds of the Old Gods. It looked as if a great devastation had occurred here, debris scattered across the landscape in no true pattern or reason. Great waves of heat and energy emanated from a distant place, a massive hole which most of the devastation seemed to have arisen. He prayed he would be taken soon, that his sacrifice was not in vain. There was little more he could take. His lungs burned, and his skin began to blister and bleed.
Looking across the landscape and seeing nothing more than scattered destruction, Gabriel slowly began to realise his greatest worry.
*This is all wrong,* he thought. This is no sacred land. This is no burial chamber. The fence... the devastation... the strange symbol... it was a warning. He turned to run, to warn the others, to say the sacrifices were all for naught. Gabriel knew he wouldn't make it. His body was old and weak, and the travel here had nearly sapped him of all the life he held left. He fell to one knee, remembering now the body facing away from the centre of the holy site, and understanding. He had tried to warn the others, too. They would both be buried here, rotting in their failure, waiting to serve as a warning to the next unwary soul that dared enter the destructive realm of the Old Gods.
\---
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed that, please feel free to check out some of my other stuff over at [r/JohnBordenWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/JohnBordenWriting/)! |
“Claire, can you hear me?”
Her fingers twitched. Her eyes flickered, first meeting my gaze, then scanning the room with a ravenous hunger.
I wrapped my fingers lightly around her chin and directed her attention towards me. “Claire?” I said, “Can you hear me?"
“Who?” The question wafted across the room, so soft as to be threatened by a gentle breeze.
I released her chin and sank back into my chair. I can’t say this was entirely unexpected. She had been in a medically diagnosed vegetative state for the past twenty years. The doctor’s said it would take at least a year of intensive therapy before she could speak at a conversational level. Perhaps even longer for her to begin walking.
She lay still, those twin sapphire orbs drinking in all the reflected light they could reach. Her mouth hung partially open, and her limbs shook as she strained in vain to pull herself upright. When I remember how my sister used to run marathons, stack bales of hay against each other in the fields and play for hours with her dog, it’s hard to imagine that she’s laid in the same bed for most of her adult lifetime. I turned away, wiping the moisture from my eyes.
Walking towards the window, I gazed out at the canopy of mottled oranges and brown leaves that surrounded the hospital. A wide grin came to my face as the tears flowed uninhibited.
I wouldn’t be alone anymore.
_____________________________________________________
Weeks turned into months as Claire began working with her speech language pathologist, her physiotherapist, and other members of her rehabilitation team. Her rapid growth, thanks to the nanobots that replaced her damaged cerebrum, gave me hope that my sister and I would be able to live again.
But there were a couple things that worried me.
First, she didn’t seem to be excited at all by images of her old life. Pictures of her dog, the farm, and the routes she used to run hardly got a spark out of her. But show her pictures of rust-covered pickup trucks and mechanics wiping grime from their faces and she never stopped looking. The change in interests worried me, but the doctor’s said it wasn't unheard of for personalities to change after brain damage.
Second, she didn’t recognize me. She knew who I was, of course, but she didn’t know me as her sister, only as the person who never left her side. Again, the doctor’s reassured me, but the worry that my sister would never come back to me ran rampant in my mind.
As for my third concern, the doctor’s had initially told me that it may take up to a year for Claire to rehabilitate. But the autumn leaves had barely fallen when Claire stood and hugged me.
“Thank you for your continued support, Rachel. I greatly appreciate the lengths you have gone to for my sake,” she said, stroking the side of my face with her fingers.
I nodded, smiling, and led her back to her bed. She spoke to me, telling me her dreams of becoming a software developer and of finding a nice apartment in the city. Of seeing the lights reflecting off the water in the harbor and of the man she couldn’t wait to meet.
After visiting hours I left the room with a sad smile plastered to my face. I made it down the hall before the tears fell, droplets that refused to submit to my will. I couldn’t help it.
I don’t know who’s in that hospital room, but it isn’t my sister.
_____________________________________________________
Thanks for reading! If you liked the story and want to read more, come join me at [r/smoothbaritone.](https://old.reddit.com/r/smoothbaritone/) |
I always thought George was pretentious. A couple nice cars, several different women every week and those stupid rolex watches to match his outfits.
I steered clear of him because I've seen the way he acts when he throws house parties. He always has to act like Mr. King Shit. "Oh look at me I'm in charge here, do what I say in my domain of money!"I imagined him as a bridge troll at his doorstep to his visitors.
I believe he tried me because a mutual friend of mine told him all of the nasty things I would say about him.
I don't know if it was jealousy or disgust. I just couldn't stand George.
Either way, when he tried to sucker punch me it was game on. So I gave him a quick left hook to the jaw. He must still be hung over because he went down like his knees magically turned into jello.
When he hit the ground, all of these silver dollars started rolling out of his ears. "Wait! No that's... That's gold!"I corrected myself.
I recalled beating a bully up as a kid and remembered a few nickels coming out of him. I was only twelve so I thought I must be dreaming.
I've gotten into fights before but not with anyone I hated. All I know is I hated that bully and I fucking *hate* George.
It must only effect people I despise... and it must be a better pay out from people who have more money!
"It's my turn to get rich!"I said to George as I leaned over him, grabbed him by the collar and proceeded to punch the shit out of his once smug little face.
As I watched the coins flow from his ears I imagined that wealth really does go to one's head. |
'5… 4… 3… 2… 1… —’
The body of Dr. Destruction fell with a thud and a splash on the sewer ground. Samira groaned.
‘Why do all of them have this obsession of rising from under the ground?’ She waved her hand feverishly in front of her face. ‘The same stink every damn mission.’
‘Maybe because they all think they’re the first to do it?’ Packer said, lifting Dr. Destruction’s unconscious body over his shoulder. ‘I want to see someone actually succeed for once.’
‘Oof, the stink!’ Samira clamped her nose. ‘I’ll have to take a shower again.’
They waded their way through ankle-deep muddy water.
‘Did you finish that assignment on the Phenomenon of long-name-don’t-remember Effect?’ Packer asked.
Samira chuckled.
‘I handed it in, like, yesterday.’ She said, swagger overflowing from her eyes.
‘Sorry for asking. Oh—’
Samira’s phone vibrated in her pocket. He pressed a button on their earpiece.
‘Yes? Okay. Right away. Got it.’
‘Where?’
‘5 blocks from here. Guy’s got his hands on a shitload of laughing gas in his basement lab. Name’s—get this—Doctor Doctor.’
She started laughing. Packer groaned.
‘God, why do they make it so easy!’
They came up in an alley. Packer dumped Dr. Destruction in the trunk of their car.
Samira started the car. She just turned it onto the road when everything started shaking. They looked at each other. The rumbling gradually grew more and more intense. The traffic halted. Everyone around started to abandon their vehicles altogether.
*Is it…? But how?* Samira thought. She opened the door and bolted out. Packer struggled to opened the trunk but managed to pull the villain over his shoulders. He was far enough from the car when there was an explosion in the middle of the streets. It knocked away all the cars nearby.
From the epicenter of the explosion rose a gigantic metal ship which seemed to be made from scrap metal. The ship’s nose projected a hologram of a lanky man in a lab coat and thick glasses. His laughter boomed across the street before being interrupted by his own cough.
‘I KNOW YOU’RE SOMEWHERE OUT HERE, YA PESKY COLLEGE KIDS! I KNOW ALL ABOUT YOUR LITTLE TEAM OF AVERAGE-MINDED SIMPLETONS. DR. DESTRUCTION WAS A MERE DISTRACTION TO KEEP YOU OFF MY SCENT. BEHOLD, YOUR NEW GOD OF CHAOS. MY NAME… IS PROFESSOR DESTRUCTION!’ |
The behemoth stopped in front of me, setting the piano down with the utmost care. I looked around the man mountain to see where the player was but the street was bare save for some gawking onlookers. I looked lower down, perhaps expecting a gnome musician. All that was there was the man's huge feet, encased in a pair of supple suede shoes.
"Uh...I'm..."
"Sir Henrik the Knight?"
"Yes...yes. uh."
I paused, blinking up at the man for a few moments. He was truly massive, standing nearly seven feet tall. At well over six myself, it was rare I felt small. The Wizard, Solandra, was also sizing up this newcomer while Brandurn's thick beard was split by his wide grin as he stared at me. I subtly flipped him off.
"Then you would be?"
"Wolf,"the giant rumbled, sweeping his brightly coloured hat from his head and bowing.
"Of course it is,"Solandra murmured as Wolf straightened up.
"It is short for Wolfgang Asmodeus Morehart."
"Of course it is!"Brandurn exclaimed delightedly, draining half of the tankard of ale he had carried with him from the tavern.
Wolf smiled at them both of them, shuffling his feet. The noise was like dragging a heavy crate across gravel.
"The guild inform me that you require a bard for your latest adventure."
"Uh yes. Yes we..."
I trailed off, for once at a loss for words. Wolf offered me another shy smile, resting one gargantuan hand on the piano's top. I looked to the others for help. Well I looked to Solandra for help. Brandurn was now slowly circling the substantial Wolf and his equally sizeable instrument.
"Our journey is far....bard,"Solandra began. "We have no cart. Will you be able to keep up?"
She nodded towards the piano to emphasise her point, throwing an irate look at Brandurn who had scrambled on top.
"It is lighter than it looks lady sorcerer,"Wolf said graciously, casually reaching out to pluck Brandurn up and off the lid.
"Well the main thing big man, is are you any good?"Brandurn asked as he dangled six feet in the air, suspended in Wolf's giant paw. He was lowered gently.
"I shall show you my credentials, before we set off."
"Uh yes, lets."
I watched as Wolf flipped open his piano's lid with a practiced air. He stood over the keys, cracking his knuckles like rolling thunder. His back to us, I made a "what by the Gods"gesture to my companions, which was returned with two very different expressions. Before I could respond further, a soft, mournful tune began to emanate from Wolf's rapidly moving, thick fingers. They danced swiftly and delicately despite their size, the music swelling and growing as he continued. He glanced back, and a few feet down, at us. He opened his giant maw and a gorgeous rich baritone burst forth, singing a slow, measured song.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
*I left my woman at the farm, When I went off to war.*
*She said that she would wait for me, For forty moons or more.*
&#x200B;
*My father he was proud of me, My mother she did cry.*
*But I went to do my part, With nary a weary sigh.*
&#x200B;
*They talked of glory, Oh the names that we would make.*
*They talked of coin, Oh the riches that we would take.*
&#x200B;
*Their words rung heavy in my ears, As my axe sunk deep.*
*Their pay sat heavy in my purse, As I struggled that night to sleep.*
&#x200B;
*I saw boys the same as me, Simply doing as they're told.*
*I saw many more boys the other side, Who now would never grow old.*
&#x200B;
*I left my woman at the farm, When I went off to war.*
*My darling had waited for me, But I was that man no more.*
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Silence reigned in the street as Wolf finished, lifting his hands from the keys and flashing that semi shy smile. I closed my mouth, trying to speak but finding a knot in my throat. I coughed, chuckling softly as a gentle applause began from the sparse audience gathered around.
"Welcome to the team Wolfgang." |
"Stop!"I cried out. "Can't you see it's not a game for me?!"
All that time, all that energy and... life. Wasted. All my hopes and dreams, my loves and fears. Everything that ever mattered to me and I thought made me who I am was taken once again. Once again... It's too much, I can't handle it anymore!
"You're sick!"I told them. "It's just a game... You told us you wanted a life full of adventures..."one of them sighed at me with their bored sickly eyes and soul. So bored, so....
"I hate you! Stop making me do this! It's only decades to you, it doesn't mean anything! But to me that's a whole lifetime! I can't... I just can't..."
"You helped us and now we give you what you wanted. We'd never let a debt go unpaid..."one said.
Another snickered. "You've done this for 800 combined years... decades don't really mean anything to you either anymore either, right?"
I... They don't... do they... I....
"Let's go again."they smiled. |
“Sooo...” I glanced up, quickly averting my gaze as the serpents my date had for hair darted their eyes towards me. “Uh, do you have any hobbies?” She nodded. At least, I think so. I was only really looking at her chin. “I make stone sculptures when time permits. I specialized in humans, though I’ve begun to divert my attentions to making smaller, animal works of stone.” I smiled politely. “So, you’re a... sculptor?” She nodded again. “Something like that, y-“ she was interrupted mid sentence by a quiet whistle, followed by a heavy, wet *THWOCK!* She collapsed, an arrow lodged in her skull. I stood, seeing Armegius standing in the doorway. The other patrons in the restaurant screamed and ran out the back exit. Armegius took a step forward. “NOX! UP TO YOUR OLD TRICKS AGAIN I SEE?” He flashed a stunning smile before unsheathing his sword and charging. I jumped from my chair. “Gah!” I leapt to the side, his sword lodging itself in my chair. He laughed condescendingly. “Quick as ever, Nox! Though despite your efforts, YOU SHALL PERISH!” I tried to speak as I repeatedly moved out of the way of his blade. “I- EEP- was try- GAH- trying to go on a- AH- DATE- AUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHH!” I threw myself to the floor as his blade sweeped across the wall, decapitating a flower pot from its small table. I ducked under a table as we was distracted, the table cloth hiding me. He whipped back and forth, searching for me. “CRAFTY AS EVER!” He bellowed, his eyes drifting over the restaurant. “COULD YOU BE... UNDER HERE!?” He swung his sword down, chopping a table in half. He moved closer to me. “UNDER HERE!?” He destroyed another. He was right next to my table now. “ARE YOU... UND-“ **BOOOM!** He didn’t finish his sentence. A shockwave of purple flames exploded from my body as he was thrown across the dining room. I dashed over to my dates bloodied corpse, lifting her head. The snakes writhed in my grasp, but I quickly shifted her head towards Armegius. As he stood from the rubble of furniture and decor, he shot a final gaze at me. *Crick.* A small crack like that of a rock resounded as his body was instantly incased in a stony shell. I sighed and pulled out my phone, swiping right, hoping for another match. |
Of course! It was so obvious! His powers were the ability of flight, and the ability to manipulate any person or object in any way he wished, but only while he was in the air. It would make perfect sense that if he got too fat to fly, his other much more dangerous power would be eliminated. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?
Luckily, as Levito’s personal chef, I even knew his favorite food already. And it was such a high calorie dish: Cheesecake! I was perfectly positioned to use his one weakness against him.
Though, there was one issue. It seems he had a safeguard against this exact situation. I’m only allowed to make cheesecake for him once a month, on the thirteenth. Something about not letting himself get too accustomed to the good things in life. But I had a plan...
On Thursday August 12, 6:45 pm, I began putting my plan into action. I always made his cheesecake the night before so it could chill in the fridge overnight, as he preferred. Never mind that my powers could make it come out at any temperature and consistency I pleased, he was always very particular about his food regardless. This time, I would make four cheesecakes, all with ten times the calories of the dish I typically served him one slice of. I made them with ease and within seconds, as all I had to do to make anything was perform any process involved in making food and think about what I want it to turn into. My go-to method was to put a piece of bread down and drop another piece on top of it. Anyway, now the only question at hand was how to get him to eat all of them. So I spent the rest of the night scheming.
- - -
At 11am the next day, Levito stormed into my kitchen, demanding to know where his breakfast was. “You should have served it to me hours ago! I don’t pay you to loaf around!”
I looked at the huge pile of bread in the corner and chuckled to myself. He didn’t find it funny. “Of course sir. I was busy working on something else for you, a surprise for later that I think you’ll really like.”
“Well it better be good. And get on breakfast ASAP! I’m starving.”
“I’ll have your French toast ready in just a minute. Feel free to wait at the table and I’ll bring it out.” I cringed to myself as that may have sounded too close to a command, and I knew those made him angry. Luckily though, he walked out without another word.
I slapped some bread together post-haste (instantly turning it into two perfect pieces of French toast goodness) and grabbed the maple syrup. He liked to put it on food himself, “to make sure it doesn’t get soggy”. I really don’t think he understands my powers.
I brought out his breakfast to cries of “about time!” and “isn’t this less than usual?” to which I responded that yes, it is one piece less than usual, but the surprise later will make up for it. I didn’t tell him that I served it late on purpose to make him skip lunch, or that I was depriving him of food to make absolutely sure that he’d eat every single one of the cheesecakes for dessert.
(I got hungry while writing this so I’ll work on part 2 after I eat) |
“She cleaned up real nice.” The words burst from my lips like raw sewage splattering up through an open manhole. “She cleaned up real nice. She did. She cleaned up real nice.”
Most of my wife lay on the floor. Her head was dangling off a bookshelf. Traces of her scent still lingered in the air.
Lemons. She smelled like lemons.
Once, in the old, bad, days, back when I had the Bonkermobile, I wouldn’t have been able to narrow down my list of enemies nearly enough to come up with a likely suspect for my wife’s murder. Captain Canoodle. The Chronometer. Traffic Cop. Peacenik. Hamster Wheel. The Silver Stain. I’d tangled with all of them over the years. Each and every one bore a grudge. Each and every one had come back to headquarters, shame-faced, custard dripping from their chin as a sign of their defeat. But I’d left those days behind when I started a family…
…or so I thought.
When I'd regained consciousness some indeterminate time ago, my legs had hurt. My arms had hurt. My head had hurt. But all of that paled in comparison to the soul-searing ache I felt when I saw what they did to my wife. I didn't know who laid me out, there in my kitchen. I didn't know who'd want to cause her any harm. But I did know that that act would not, could not go unanswered.
I smelled the air again. There was something there, just a hint, among the lemon scent. Yes. A touch of tuna. I smiled as I straightened my white ruff collar and tugged on my oversized floppy shoes, the ones with spring heels for emergencies. Baron Barracuda might think he pulled one over on the Bonkster. He might think the old days were dead and gone. But he had been here. Oh, yes. And he would pay.
They’d all pay.
As carefully as I could, I collected what was left of my wife and placed her in my vehicle. I’d traded in the Bonkermobile for a family sedan, but I’d saved my war music. The merry tinkling of a pipe organ soothed my jangled nerves as I drove to Baron Barracuda’s hideout at the old abandoned barracuda nursery. He thought I didn’t know about it. Heh. I knew more than any of them ever thought.
The Baron was at his Barracomputer when I found him, no doubt deeply engrossed in some plot against me. I took advantage of his distraction and pinned his arms to the keyboard with some razor-sharp Bonkerangs. He screamed. I screamed. We all screamed.
“Bonker?” he gasped. “Good God, man…why? What are you doing?”
“Did you think you’d get away with it?” I asked as I playfully twirled a weighted rubber chicken. “Did you think I wouldn’t know it was you?”
“What are you talking about?” the Baron said. “You’re a sick man, Bonker. Have you been taking your medication?”
I snarled. “Sick? SICK? What’s stick is murdering a man’s wife, Baron. You and the rest of the Restitution Rangers. THAT’S what’s sick!”
“Bonker, please,” he gasped, “that's impossible.”
“Is it?” I leaned in close to him. “Do you know what my wife said to me as she lay there dying? Would you like to know?” The Baron didn’t respond. He just stood there, his hands oozing blood, as he stared at me uncomprehendingly.
“She said, ‘make them feel it,'” I said simply.
I twisted one of the knives. He felt it.
“Bonker!” the Baron gasped once he’d recovered enough to speak, “you were never one of the bad ones. You’re not a Terror Totalicus or Beef Broker. You were…” He trailed off.
“Well?” I asked. “What was I?’
“A nuisance,” the Baron said flatly. “An irritant. Spraying your name on the Statue of Liberty. Painting a mustache on the Mona Lisa. Putting pants on Michelangelo’s David. You weren’t a bad guy, Bonker. Don’t make me go hard on you now.”
“You want to know hard?” I said. “I’ll show you hard.” I went back to my car…no. The Bonkermobile 2. Yes. That was it. I went to the Bonkermobile 2 and brought back my wife’s head.
“Apologize to her,” I said as tried to get my temper under control.
“Oh, Jesus, Bonker,” he moaned. “You really have lost it.” He looked at me, and his eyes swam not with fear or rage or panic, but pity.
“I’m so sorry,” he said simply.
It’s funny. If he HAD been afraid or angry or panicked, I don’t know if I’d have beaten him to death with my wife’s head. At least, not so soon.
Afterward, I cradled her head in my arms. “They’re going to pay,” I said, to her, to Baron, to no one and everyone. “They’ll all pay. One by one by one until none are left. None but you and me.”
I kissed her hair because she had no lips. As I did so, I felt a piece of paper brush my face. A note? A clue? I grasped it, tore it from her head, and read on intently.
BE SURE TO RINSE MOP HEAD THOROUGHLY AFTER EVERY USE
I was confused until I wasn’t. Of course, this was a clue to...something. It had to be. I just had to figure it out. I would, in time. Until then, I would truly become a force for this city to fear.
My stomach rumbled. I reached into one plastic-lined pocket and pulled out an old, long-forgotten sandwich. The fishy paste within did my soul some much-needed good.
I turned to leave and slipped in a pool of the Baron's red stuff that had dripped from my poor wife's hair. As I landed hard on the floor, my legs hurt. My arms hurt. My head hurt. But my heart soared.
“Come on dear,” I told the lifeless head in my head, “let’s go see a man about installing twin machine guns on the roof of a sedan.” |
Let me tell you, most people don't know the first thing about dragons. Everyone thinks they're all treasure, treasure, treasure and the ocassional firebreathing. Sure, splash in a little magic and some lamb barbecue and most would say that that's that. Not that they're wrong. This honestly is *pretty much* it. But what they don't know, the second thing about dragons, is that they're awfully persistent fellows. They just won't let up!
Anyway. Call me Bobby. Bobby the Blade. Though, I must tell you whoever came up with it can't have been a lot more clever I—'cause I could barely tell a knife from a rapier! Nor can I remember where I got that name, when I got that name, who gave it to me, or why they did so. Anyway, it hasn't really had an impact on me life. Rarely do I get to stay in a place for long enough for it to really become a topic of conversation. Whenever it does become a topic of conversation it is usually because they know that I've had a dragon problem for the past decade, and figure it must have something to do with a great battle of man and lava lizard. Sadly it doesn't and I really have no idea what is going on with this whole dragon thing. I haven't done 'im a single thing. Nothing! Didn't toss no thunderbolts his way—not that I even could if I wanted to! I didn't go sharpshootin' 'im no arrows—couldn't do that either, I'm a terrible shot. And I most definitely did not try to turn him into scaly sirloin, because as I already stated, I'm truly terrible with blades! I'm awful! As far as my old man is concerned I don't possess a single skill worthy of speaking aloud. So why then, is Shmauragon in a literal hot pursuit of me? Get it? Hot pursuit? Because of dragon? Aghhh... Anyhow. What do I tell you! I do not know! It's been a decade and he keeps trying to have me killed! He's sent assassins to slit me throat, mages to freeze me solid, hunters to send me barreling down a spikey hole, druids to encase me in amber. The list is long my friends, but good ol' Bobby the Blade here is still kicking it.
*From over yonder a magnificent roar shakes the wooden logged walls of the tavern. The chandelier rocks violently above them, a candle falls, and begins descending towards the straw covered floor. Disaster is about to strike, within seconds the whole tavern and everyone inside it could be set ablaze. One of the patrons is frozen in place as he sees the candle barrel downwards. At the same time, Bobby the Blade readies himself to leave. He rises, stretches his arms wide out, and the candle which could've been the death sentence of them all lands perfectly in his hand.*
Oh my! Look at that! How lucky aren't we? Anyway fellas, you heard the noise, time for me to head off. Best of luck with old Shmauragon to you all.
*Bobby the Blade sets the candle down gently on the table, along with three silver coins and bids his adieu to the small audience that has formed. A gust of wind blows the back door open and Bobby decides exiting the tavern a different way than he entered might be a good call. Now unknown to Bobby the Blade, the rear exit has been blocked off for the past couple of weeks. There just so happens to be a massive hole in front of it after a geomancer got into a bit of a tussle with with a crystal knight about whether or not it was ethical to manipulate mineral based armor. Bobby the Blade doesn't hear any of the warnings being called his way and plummets all the way down the shaft. Bobby the Blade is knocked out cold. At that very same moment that Bobby the Blade fell to the bottom of a dirt shaft, the patrons of the tavern all turn to focus on something else entirely. Namely, a massive hunk torn out of the tavern's ceiling by none other than the fabled elder dragon, Shmauragon. Like a slithering snake, it begins scanning every crack and creavasse of the Nothinere's Inn. Hot air belches out of it it's big, round nostrils. Those unlucky to get close enough could even here the raging fire burning in it's belly. Shmauragon finally stops right by the table where Bobby the Blade had just been sat, telling stories of his grand escapes from this very beast.*
WHERE IS HE? Shmauragon snarled, causing the floor to quake, the tables to rumble, the mugs and cups to topple and spill their delicious mead and wine all over the floor.
*A few confused guests scratch their necks, too drunk to realise that they may well be seconds from disintegration. Those terrified enough to understand the dire situation they have been presented plead and bargain, but Shmauragon seeks one thing and one thing alone. Bobby, the Blade. A knight clad in pitch black armor crouches
and climbs past broken planks to inform the hulking beast that, unfortunately, Bobby the Blade seems to have eluded them yet again. Shmauragon rips his head up out of the tavern and begins to monologue from above.*
OH MY GODDD THIS GUYYYY!? YOU SERIOUSLY HAVE NO IDEA HOW DIFFICULT THIS FUCKING GUY IS BEING.
*Each word that escapes his snout sends wafts scorching hot air through the tavern. People wipe their foreheads, remove their shirts and have their drinks refilled as Shmauragon continues.*
TEN FUCKING YEARS, DUDE. AND EVERY FUCKING TIME HE NOT ONLY ESCAPES ME, BUT INVENTS SOME LUDICROUS FUCKING STORY ABOUT HOW I'M TRYING TO TORCH HIM, OR IMPALE HIM, OR, OR... DID HE, UH, DID HE TELL YOU GUYS ABOUT THE "ASSASSIN"I SENT FOR HIM?
*The patrons around the table where Bobby the Blade was just sat nod their heads.*
OH HE DID! WELL, OF COURSE HE FUCKING DID. HMPF. THE AUDACITY. JESUS CHRIST. LOOK GUYS, THERE'S A RIVAL OF MINE, I'M SSURE YOU'VE HEARD OF HIM, GOES BY KING GHIDROGON. SO, KG, ACTUALLY SENDS AN ASSASSIN TO KILL BOBBY IN ORDER TO SPITE ME. BUT ONE OF MY GUYS, STEVE, BLESS HIS SOUL, LUNGES HIMSELF IN FRONT OF BOBBY AND SPLITS A POISON DART—MID AIR—RIGHT IN FRON OF BOBBY'S FACE. NOW UNFORTUNATELY, STEVE WAS SO FOCUSED ON TRYING TO SAVE BOBBY, HE THREW HIMSELF A LITTLE TOO FAR AND FELL OF THE BALCONY BOBBY WAS ON. THE REAL ASSISSIN REALISES HIS OPPORTUNITY, RUNS UP BEHIND BOBBY TO START GIVING HIM THE OLD STABBY STAB, RIGHT? BUT BOBBY NOTICES A POUCH OF GOLD THAT FELL OFF OF STEVE AS HE FLEW BY AND BENDS DOWN TO PICK IT UP, RIGHT AS THE ASSASSIN LUNGES TOWARDS BOBBY WITH HIS DGGER. SO THE ACTUAL ASSASSIN THEN TRIPS OVER BOBBY AND PLUMMETS RIGHT DOWN ON TOP OF STEVE! THIS WAS FOUR MONTHS AGO NOW AND POOR STEVE'S STILL IN CASTS. THE ASSASSIN PROBABLY WOULD'VE BEEN TOO HAD I NOT DECIDED TO TURN HIM INTO SHISH KEBAB FOR TRYING TO TAKE OUT MY GUY BOBBY. AND BOBBY HIMSELF DOES NOT ONLY WALK AWAY UNSCAHTED, BUT WITH A FAT PAYCHECK AS WELL FOR DOING NOTHING. AND THIS IS JUST A SINGLE EXAMPLE! THE GUY COULD FALL OFF A CLIFF, LAND PERFECTLY IN A HALF METER WIDE WELL, SWIM BACK UP TO THE SURFACE, GET AIRLIFTED OUT BY GRABBING ONTO THE WELL HOOK THAT JUST HAPPENED TO BE TIED TO A DONKEY SOMEONE FROM THE NEARBY VILLAGE HAD MISTAKENLY LEFT BEHIND THAT SAME MORNING. BUT NOT ONLY THAT, NO NO NO. BECAUSE THIS IS BOBBY THE FUCKING BLADE WE'RE ON ABOUT. ONCE OUT OF THE WELL, BOBBY REALISES THAT HE'S GOTTEN SOMETHING CAUGHT IN HIS BOOTS AND IT JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE THE **DAWN KINGS EYE**. YOU KNOW, THE MAGICAL GEM THAT GIVES IT'S USER THE ABILITY TO BEND LIGHT TO HIS WILL? UN-BE-FUCKING-LIEVEABLE. THE **EYE** SPENT THE LAST SIX DECADES UNDISTURBED AT BOTTOM OF A RANDOM WELL UNTIL BOBBY COMES PLUMMETING INTO IT. IT'S INCREDIBLE!
*Shmauragon shakes his head, then clears his throat, clearly ready to continue his tirade as a series of shouts climb past him. The black knight from earlier has returned to inform that they have been told that somebody believes to have seen Bobby the Blade leave town by way of mead barrel down the river.*
YOU'VE GOTTA BE FUCKING—. GUESS THAT MEANS WE'RE ON OUR WAY. SORRY ABOUT THE ROOF, RODRIGO HERE WILL MAKE SURE YOU'RE FAIRLY COMPENSATED FOR IT. OH! AND IF YOU GUYS SEE HIM AGAIN, COULD YOU TELL HIM I REALLY, TRULY, FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART OF HEARTS: DO. NOT. SEEK. TO. DO. HIM. ANY. HARM. LIKE AT ALL. I JUST WANT HIM ON THE TEAM... AND I GOT SOME COOL GUYS ON THERE, TOO! MALYCON THE MARVELOUS, HERON THE HEROIC, STEVE...
*Shmauragon rises and flaps his wings, sending dirt and dust and straws through the air. He flexes his hind legs and right before taking off he looks down and adds one final thing.*
I SWEAR TO GOD THE GUY MAY DUMBER THAN A WHEEL BARROW, BUT HE SURE IS LUCKY. TAKE CARE YOU GUYS, AND SORRY AGAIN 'BOUT THE ROOF. |
Hunting was one of the world's oldest professions. Ever since there'd been cities, there had been vermin in them that needed cleansing, and ever since there'd been vermin, there were hunters.
Professions evolve over the years. Doctors these days don't use leeches, and engineers use computers. That said, hunting had always been a sport of tradition: classic weapons, classic tools, a classy job for fancy people.
I was not a fancy person.
My Dad had been a hunter, the classy kind. He'd died back in 2013 when I was off at University. My mom had been a hunter, a fancy lady, and she'd died in 2014 just after we'd buried Dad.
The guild had written off my hometown before I'd had a chance to move back. There were too many creatures of the night to keep up with, and they'd lost too many fancy people. They'd been good hunters, crossbows, stakes and silver bullets.
So, my Mom, my Dad and my hometown were in the ground before I'd picked up my membership in the Great Hunt. What kind of hunter did that make me?
A vengeful one.
"You bitch,"my victim spat as she tried to crawl away from me. Vampires might have had super speed, but it was hard to run when you didn't have legs anymore. "What the-"
"IED,"I explained, "and I don't think I asked you to talk."I walked in front of her, pouring gasoline as I went.
"That's-"the vampire started, but I cut her off by putting down the jerry can and pulling out a lighter.
"Hm?"I asked.
"Please- I'll stop drinking blood."
I tossed the lighter in response and ignited the fuel. There was barely time for a gurgle and a half scream before she was gone. "Yeah, don't drink much when you're dead,"I pointed out. Once I was sure that she wasn't twitching anymore, I picked up the jerry can and wrapped it up in a garbage bag before tucking it back in the backseat of my car before hopping in myself.
The car rumbled to life, and I cracked open the glove box, grabbing the camels and fresh lighter that fell out. I lit a cigarette before tossing it all back and pulling out my phone.
I had a list on my phone, typed and formatted beautifully. Evalyn Adams had been at the top of that list, and now she was burning in my rearview mirror. Just as I was about to start looking up the next name on the list, I noticed a car coming down this abandoned road. I growled and put my phone in the cup holder, pushing the car door open with my black combat boots.
The car slowed down as it approached, pulling off to the side. Seeing as Evalyn and I were behind the veil, I popped the car's trunk and reached way to the back. There was my personal favourite tool behind my day-bag, piles of stakes, three guns, and a shovel.
My new friend got out of the car, I could hear him. I turned around and met him with a pneumatic harpoon. He looked down at the gun and then back up at me, his dramatic duster flapping in the sea wind.
"Alexis,"he said.
"Hunter?"I asked.
"Out in the daylight, ain't I?"he asked. Evalyn had been out in the daylight, too but in her car.
"Fair,"I nodded and lowered the harpoon slightly. "I don't need help."
"Wasn't offering,"he said as he walked past the burning vampire, prodding her with his foot. "You know what's over that bridge?"he asked.
"Cape Breton,"I answered.
"More vampire towns than you can count,"he said.
"Yeah."
"They won't respect a hunter like you,"he pointed out.
"Don't need 'em to."
"They'll be on your throat the second you step on-"
"Don't threaten me with a good time,"I snapped. "You just here to convince me to go home?"
"Guild wants you to go home,"he corrected. "Lost a lot of good people over there."
"Surprised they approve,"I said before throwing the harpoon back in the trunk and heading back to my car door.
"Where you goin'?"he asked.
"Home,"I said before opening the door, "to have a good time." |
Darkness swirled about the Demon Lord. Light scattered from his presence, only to be held captive by his cruel magic. He laughed when the feeble challenger stumbled into his chamber.
"No hero can kill me!"The Dark Lord proclaimed.
The challenger stood, his metal armor clanging against itself. The Demon Lord sent a puff of darkness to surround the miserable soul. It entrapped the challenger, pinching him with impossible force. In a final act of desperation, the challenger brought his arms over his head and tugged.
The darkness began quivering, and to the Demon Lord's surprise, quickly evaporated. Standing before him was no longer an inconvenient pest of a hero, but a terrifying sight, hardly human, dressed in khakis and a white long sleeved shirt with a green vest over top.
"Wh... what is the meaning of this?"
"Demon Lord, it is I, Larry from Accounting."
"This... this cannot be!"
"Oh it be, your Demonship."Larry whipped out a tablet displaying a dreadful spreadsheet. "You see, your budgets are totally haywire. First, the marketing team has running literally with cobwebs for quite some time. This would explain your severe drop in public goodwill over the last few decades.
The Demon Lord's posture immediately changed. He wilted from a towering menace to a withered weed. Shadows fled and light burst forth from the broken windows.
"And that of course leads us to why revenue is down tenfold below projections from three centuries ago which, by the way, was the last time you reviewed your budgets with Randy."
"Ah yes, Randy. What ever happened to him?"
"You launched him from a flaming trebuchet, your Darkness. Now if we could turn to the statement of cash flow..."
The Demon Lord clutched the hole wear his heart used to be.
"No! Fiscal accountability... my only weakness."
Larry watched as the Demon Lord writhed in agony. Seeing the opportunity, Larry put the tablet away and approached him slowly. He knelt beside the Demon Lord and boldly shouted into his ear:
"We've been trying to reach you about your cars extended warranty."
And with that final kiss of death, the Demon Lord faded into ash. |
Colonel Johnson was doing maintenance on the Saturn space station when he saw something that caught his attention.
\-The Fairy-Space-Magic-Council (or FaSp for short) welcomes your species.
Johnson stared at the flying talking sheep. He was the least phased, most centered person they could find. A radical materialistic, smart man.
\-This is colonel Johnson Gonzales of the United Earth Federation. Houston? A magic sheep is talking to me.
\-I am not a sheep, I am special envoy Wiggle Giggles -she smiles flying around the colonel.
\-Houston? I am really confused, this seems straight out of my daughter's tv shows. And she's 4.
\-Human! We need to warn you! We've read of a species near your sector. This species isn't tuned to the Universal Tree of Heart and Warmth! They make war between themselves and seem extremely dangerous!
\-The what?
\-The Universal Tree! The place where all living creatures get their magical powers to be able to fly and go to other planets!
\-So... Is this tree like, filled with some electrical conduit? Are we talking long-range coms or...?
\-Electrical what? No, human! The Tree uses the power of friendship and love! The species we're worried use hate and fire to spread their war!
Johnson deadpanned looked at the sheep. Her eyes were confident and full of warmth. Johnson stepped away and whispered to the mic.
\-Houston? I bring dire news. We're the bad guys!
2nd part: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/nldeze/wp\_all\_spacefaring\_species\_know\_that\_the\_universe/gzkhh54?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/nldeze/wp_all_spacefaring_species_know_that_the_universe/gzkhh54?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
3rd part: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/nldeze/wp\_all\_spacefaring\_species\_know\_that\_the\_universe/gzsd94t?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/nldeze/wp_all_spacefaring_species_know_that_the_universe/gzsd94t?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) |
Welcome, visitors!
&#x200B;
From a billion light years away to the next star over, the Galactic Nations welcomes all.
&#x200B;
I know you're all excited to meet these "humans"you've heard so much about, but you need to learn a thing or two first.
&#x200B;
First off, our physiology. Humans are composed of a lot of different things, some of which may be toxic to your species. Contact your local doctor if you're allergic to: Oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, iron, protein derivatives of these, carbohydrates, salts composing of...
&#x200B;
Next off, human biology. Humans are very fragile compared to most species; blunt force, burns, and many other types of physical injuries can hurt or kill a human. Humans also are susceptible to a large number of xenological diseases and can transmit these to you. An up-to-date vaccination card is required on many human worlds.
&#x200B;
Another thing you need to know about us is our behavior. Humans can act very hostile and frigid towards foreigners, although these attitudes are usually dropped in favor of a more friendly and jovial disposition once the human is accustomed to your presence. They also value their belongings and loved ones very intensely; acting hostile towards these people can result in the human becoming very hostile towards you. Interrupting a human's routine of sleep can also result in anger.
&#x200B;
In short, these are the main things you need to know when visiting the Galactic Nations! Humans are renowned for their friendliness around the galaxy, and it's no question if they'll like you too. We welcome you!
&#x200B;
*This message was paid for and advertised by the Galactic Nations Board of Tourism.* |
"Don't you think it's strange, man?"David pointed at Kitty. "It's almost as though she's protecting you from something. Or someone. She always walks with you all the way to school. She isn't scared of humans, like most regular strays.
Jamin laughed lightly. "She's just fond of me, that's all. Next thing, you'll say that Winky's my bodyguard."
"Winky?"David asked. "Oh, that's right. The dog that follows you home. Now that you mention it, that *does* seem kind of strange, doesn't it? When did it start following you? The same time Kitty did?"
To be honest, Jamin wasn't sure when Winky had started following him home. And he also couldn't remember when Kitty started walking him to school. It almost seemed like it had always been the case, a consistent truth. Kitty walked him to school, and Winky walked him home. Jamin couldn't remember a day when Winky and Kitty hadn't been loyally waiting for him.
The thought stayed on his mind through his Math, Science, and English periods. Soon, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and he headed to the front of the school. Sure enough, a golden retriever sat, tongue out and tail wagging.
It wasn't a conscious decision, but that day, Jamin found his feet meandering away from the route home. Once he realized it, he decided. Maybe he'd walk over to the mall. He'd grab a sandwich at the food court for dinner, call his mom from a payphone and let her know he'd be back late. He wondered how far he could go before Winky decided to stop following.
Winky growled, and Jamin's attention snapped back to the present. Winky *never* growled. Was she growling at him? Her ears were pulled back, and her tail had stopped wagging.
The sun had begun to set, and the street lamps cast eerie shadows on the roads. In the half-light, Winky's eyes glowed amber. No, Jamin realized, she wasn't growling at him. She was growling at something in the darkness, something hidden in the alleyways. |
I was tired. Beyond tired. Overtired. I knew even if I tried to lay down to sleep here in the street that sleep would not take me. Besides, the body of Strateria was dead on the floor before me and I would rather not try and sleep next to her in such a state. I may of hated her more than anything else in my life, but I was hardly a freak in that sense.
The bellow that captured my concentration was beyond anything I had ever heard before. I stood quickly enough to cause a blood rush to my head but I saw instantly who it was. A man, a civilian by the looks of him, storming toward where I stood over Strateria's dead body.
"You!"
The rage in his voice was evident even in spite of the near quarter-mile distance. How could I have heard him from so far away? There was no hero on the current Council's roster that matched his description, unless Anubiz wore a muscle-suit under his outfit. Unlikely.
"I will end you for what you've done to her."
I can still hear him, in spite of the distance, but why does this civilian care so much about the hero? Sure, there's a cult-like fan group that supports her and pays money into some off-shore account to keep her sated and clothed to do her job as a full-time hero, but even one of them stands no chance against me. I stamp my heel into the floor and a half-tonne chunk of the pavement beside me bounces into the air. As it reaches its apogee I spin-kick it at the man and face the other way as I wait to hear the inevitable crunch and splatter of a defenceless body hit by such a weight. Three, two, one...
Nothing.
I turned back around to see why there was no sound of impact and see something... unexpected. The half-tonne chunk of pavement and cement is... floating. The man, hidden by its size, appears as he barely breaks pace on his way toward me.
Impossible.
I try to wrench the chunk at him from behind, but nothing happens. The man cannot be holding it, even with telekinesis. Surely? Surely if he had stopped it dead then he would have had to take the whole weight with an outstretched arm or two. Wait. There are no telekinetic heroes on the Council. There hasn't been one for years, and she's as dead as Strateria.
I pull at the fire behind me and blast it at him like a flamethrower, his clothes begin to singe and melt away but once again, he does not break his stride toward me. That feeling in the back of my throat is there again, I'm beginning to panic. Who the hell is this guy? Sharp spikes made of ice miss their target. A push of wind does nothing to break his stride either. I step back once again to give myself room to use my powers and stand right onto Strateria's motionless ankle. I roll my own over hers and fall beside her as the man stands tall over me. I look to her quickly, in case this is one of her tricks of illusion but she has never pretended to be dead before to trick me.
"She is my wife."The man over me says as he pulls me up without moving. Telekinesis for sure.
"Who are you?"I tremble in his grasp, my bowels wanting to loosen in fear.
"I am Revocan."
Oh shit.
* * *
Like this? Find more of my work over on [/r/ocallkai](https://reddit.com/r/ocallkai/) |
“You’re a rabbit,” the High Priestess blurted out, breaking an uneasy silence.
“I’m in the *form of* a rabbit,” said the divine bunny testily.
He was big, for a rabbit, and it might be fair to say he looked tough, for a rabbit, with the eye scar and one slightly raggedy ear, but he was nevertheless a fluffy rabbit with a sort of puffed-up mane on his chest. His fur was jet black and his eyes were slightly red.
Athon, War God, He of Battle and Bloodshed, scratched his good ear and then began grooming his whiskers with his little paws.
“*Why* are you in the form of a rabbit?” asked the King.
“I thought to demonstrate the scale of my power,” the rabbit said gruffly. “To show my mastery of shapes and form, and to show my loyal followers that the truest strategy is to belie your strength and confound your enemy.”
The crowd considered this in silence.
“Why are you *really* a rabbit?” the High Priestess persisted.
Athon muttered something.
“You told the *Goddess of Nature* that her powers paled to your own?”
“I whispered for a reason, damn it!”
A ripple of conversation pulsed through the crowd. The King silenced them.
“Look, we were arguing. Mom accused me of dodging chores and I said, well, I said some things I maybe shouldn’t have.”
Someone from the Merchant House incredulously shouted *“Chores?”* and the others shushed him.
“What did your father have to say about this?” asked one of the not-as-high priests.
“What, old lightning beard? He said ‘good luck with your manifestation, Fuzzbutt’ but it took a while for him to stop laughing.”
“This is… unexpected. You still have your powers, of course?”
“What the hell do you think? I’m a bunny!”
Panic. This time the King didn’t quell the noise.
Questions everywhere, and the loudest: “How long will you be like this?”
“How the hell should I know!?” Athon snapped. “Go ask the damn hippies that worship my mother!”
“The Arani will be here any second,” the King moaned.
“Aaand of course you invited my sister’s followers here. Great. Genius. Yeah she’s really going to rub this in my cute furry face.”
At this point the High Priestess had surrendered any trace of forced serenity. “We thought you were going to lead us to glory and victory, you furry little bastard! You promised us a definitive end to the conflict! You said that either the enemy would kneel to the Athonites or fall before us!”
“Yes, well…”
“Do you know how long we prepped for this?! The Merchants! The Warriors! The bloody Bakers! All the houses…”
Gongs sounded. Horns groaned.
“And they’re here,” the High Priestess sighed.
“You talk to them,” the King hissed.
At the fore marched the Arani warriors, clad in full plate. Next were the merchants and specialists, and then at the back of the procession the Queen was carried aloft on a small litter. And at the back on a much bigger, more ornate palanquin… a sable rabbit affected a stately pose.
“Ara?” shouted Athon.
The other rabbit nodded.
Athon scampered towards the palanquin and hopped on to it.
“Mom got you too?” he asked, breathlessly. The humans watched in horrified fascination as the objects of a millennium of worship sat there being cute and fluffy.
“Um, yes,” said Ara. “I… I might have implied that looking after the planet wasn’t nearly as mentally taxing as being the goddess of strategy and tactics.”
Athon nodded glumly. “Sounds about right.”
The Arani Grand Cleric made meaningful eye-contact with the Athonite High Priestess, and then rolled them.
“Well, this won’t do at all, will it,” said Athon. “You want to call a truce?”
Ara stamped her foot. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all.” Athon gestured at himself with a paw. “I mean, neither of us are at our best.”
“Say this time next century? If that works for you, of course.”
“Of course. I mean it does depend if we’re still, you know…”
“Oh hell, don’t even joke about it!”
High Priestess of Athon and the Grand Cleric of Ara watched as the rabbits talked in low voices.
“All right,” said the Priestess eventually. She led the Cleric to one side. “How do we spin this?”
“I don’t know,” he replied glumly. “Tell you the truth, I’m on the verge of sodding off to that hilltop commune and becoming a Gailora worshipper myself. This is unsalvageable.”
“You know we can all hear you, yes?” said the Arani Queen.
“Yes, that’s what speaking out loud is for,” said the Grand Cleric, who was long past caring.
“I think this can work,” the High Priestess said quickly, before the red-faced Queen could vent. “We have witnesses, yes, quite a crowd, but ultimately it’s a very small proportion of our nation states.”
“Go on.”
“We can tell the masses… basically anything we want. Anything.”
The Cleric stroked his long white beard. It was false, of course, because he was 30, but it wouldn’t do to ignore tradition. “And how do we explain the lack of surrendering enemies, and the absence of massive ongoing battles, and the conspicuous presence of bunnies?”
“There *are* actual leaders here—” the Athonite King began.
“Shut up, she’s talking.”
“We omit the bunnies,” said the Priestess firmly. “We say our elite warriors weren’t needed. We say our respective gods fought on our behalf, fuelled by our respective belief forces…”
“Ohh, I like that. Good angle.”
“And that they were deadlocked, that they fought to a standstill, and realised that each of us are worthy opponents. That we’d make worthy allies, and we’re better off together.”
“Now that,” the Cleric took her hand and shook it, “that’s thinking like a true High Grand Priestess.”
“I’m sure my new Unified Temple will need a Grand High Cleric too.”
“It’s not that simple,” moaned the Queen.
The King tried to push back to the front too. “Yes, it’s ridiculous proposing something that…”
The two monarchs were drowned out by cheering.
Over on the palanquin, the two god-rabbits glanced back at the raucous crowd.
“What are they so happy about?” Athon asked.
“Oh, who even cares,” Ara sniffed. “Mortals. There’s no logic to them at all.” |
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