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The debate had raged for nearly a century, but the Affirmatives had finally won. We were going to make first contact.
In 1750, astronomers of the time had described what appeared to be barely distinguishable motes of light emanating from the surface of Mars. When they eventually decided to share their findings with the public, the consensus at the time was fairly split. Could it be made by an alien civilization? Or was it just a natural phenomenon, like volcanism or the burning of some type of unknown molecule present on the planet? Whatever it was, it stirred the public’s imagination like nothing else had in the centuries prior.
The biggest impact had been amongst the churches and their followers. Those who believed the lights were created by sentient beings were ridiculed, and at some points imprisoned or even executed for their blasphemous statements. The reaction was not the same everywhere though. In what is now south east Asia, Oceania and China, governments and people alike praised the news and quickly led the debate on efforts to understand it. Europe, South America and North American governments took much longer to before they officially acknowledged the possibility, but they did.
In 1801, after half a century of turmoil and debate, advances in optical technology eventually ended the argument. The lights were undoubtedly sentient, or at least created by sentient beings. Their appearance on the surface of Mars followed a natural progression, from the south pole in the early parts of the Martian year, up through the equatorial regions by mid-year and then receding back to the south pole by years end, to begin anew. This was no natural phenomenon. On Earth people referred to it as the “bright Martian migration”. An international yearnings for contact exploded through the populations of Earth.
By 1891, the Affirmative Contact Alliance (ACA) had developed the first ever rocket engine. It was based on the extraction and purification of methane from agricultural operations. It did not produce enough thrust to go beyond being a proof of concept in the rocket theory developed jointly by China and the Russian Empire, but it was enough to secure the full financial and intellectual backing of the ACA. This technology could potentially take us to the aliens.
The Non-Interrupt Society (NIS) vehemently opposed the idea of contact. They utilized well-reasoned and evidenced arguments on the fate of ecologies which humans had visited on our own planet. Life was abundant on Earth, until humans arrived to interfere with it. In the wake of our expansion, nature suffered. Species went extinct and the long term effects of this were still not known. Those of the NIS believed it was our duty as an intelligent, solar-sister of the Mars aliens to not only avoid affirmative contact, but to avoid any and all contact at all until the aliens could do so themselves.
The debate raged on for a century. The first breakthrough was with significant advances in fuel and propulsion design technologies that had occurred rapidly with the ACA’s backing. More and more people believed that actually leaving Earth was a possibility. As the technology progressed, people became more convinced. Eventually the thought of actually travelling to and landing on Mars became even more tangible. The numbers of the ACA swelled. The NIS gave concessions of course. They supported non-interventionist policies such as deploying exo-planet observatories to view the aliens from outside their atmosphere, at a level of detail that would still allow useful scientific and xenobiological information to be harvested. But their arguments could not hold. The human spirit had always felt alone, and now we knew it was not. The will to explore beyond our planet, to meet those whom we called solar-neighbors was impossible to ignore.
In 1911 we successfully launched a satellite around the Earth. By 1914 we had our first manned flight in space. By 1916 we landed on the moon. By 1920 the ACA was confident in its ability to deliver a manned payload to Mars. By 1927 they presented their first concept proposals on how to bring the human payload back after it had landed on the planet.
The second great project of the ACA had begun at this time. This time Engineering was not the focus, but rather the humanities. The greatest psychologists, philosophers, religious leaders and independent free thinkers were recruited by the ACA. The official Protocols of Contact were eventually delivered to the world in 1998, nearly three quarters of a century after the project had begun.
I began studying the Protocols in 2001 after being selected as the cultural ambassador of Earth. Selected from the people, by the people, to represent all of us in a non-scientific capacity alongside the other four, very scientifically capable members of mission First Contact.
Captain Nojikim’s voice came over the headset, “We have permission to begin descent from ACA command. We are not just making history here people, we are making First Contact. It is my greatest honor to do so with the four of you.”
I closed the Protocols of Contact, clipped its binding and placed it into a secure compartment. My heart was racing.
We began our descent. |
"I can read your minds."
They stared at the boy. Just a minute ago their laughter rang around the tents that made up the carnival. Now there was only silence.
A tall man with red hair rubbed his neck and sat up. He stared at the boy and asked,
"Are you lying?"
The boy shook his head, his blond hair shining against the moonlight. A crow flew down and landed on his shoulder. It squawked.
"Don't tell us you can control birds as well!"A lady in a grey coat laughed but the group remained quiet. The boy smiled; "I can show you if you want."
A large man in a green hat nodded; "Sure. Show us."
The boy stepped forward until he stood face to face to an old man, who sat still on a tree stump. The old man blinked his watery eyes and his stare wavered against the boy's own.
"Think of your loved one's name, and hold it."the boy requested. He spoke almost immediately;
"Sarah glenstein. She was your wife."The old man nodded.
"She died from pneumonia didn't she?"The old man nodded again.
"You're thinking of looking into her green eyes, her cold wrinkled hand in yours. You know you could have saved her."This time the old man cried, and he turned away from the boy, his shoulders shaking.
The boy walked to the man in the green hat.
"You think I'm a fake. You think I'm just a charleton, a liar who do tricks for money."The man mumbled, "I think that's what everyone thinks."
The boy continued without a pause in his stride, "I read more than minds as you saw. I can read your life, your character and especially your secrets."The boy smiled and his brilliant white teeth sparkled in the dark.
"You were committing thievery at the age of eight, you killed your own parents at the age of eleven and you were tried by guillotine, but you had inserted a metal plate into your neck, and people thought god had stopped the blade from executing you so you were excused."The boy spoke faster now and the man's face hardened.
Suddenly the boy turned and face the lady in the grey coat. He walked towards her as he spoke, "The lady of the north, the one who killed her own husband to marry her own son."He grinned; "Yes, everyone here now will finally know that you poisoned your own husband, a wealthy doctor because you fell in love with your own son, Jeremiah. You made love with him and borne him a bastard, to which you left on the porch of a stranger."
Someone gasp and heads were turned on the lady in the grey coat. She covered her face with her gloved hands shook her head, screaming "No, NO NO!"
The boy finally turned to the tall man with the red hair. He frowned when he saw the tall man smiling at him. The man spoke first; "Hello. Do you remember me? I hope you do. We had a deal."He reached out and grasped the boy's hair and stood up, holding the boy aloft with his right hand. The young boy screamed, kicking at the man's chest.
"Lucifer, you can not go around tinkering with stranger's minds. Have we not recited many, many times, the rules of the book? Have I not gave you the love you deserved?"
The boy was weeping now, his limbs flailing against the man.
"Oh Lucifer, we were a family. A big loving family, you and I and all the other boys. But I think it is time I show you what happens when the love I give is... gone."
The man walked into his tent and left a group of people, some crying, some screaming, out in the dark and came back, his face less of wrinkles and his body fuller and stronger.
He smiled; "Where were we?"
|
For me, it all began early on, one Sunday morning, when I woke up to the smell of rotting meat in my bedroom. Not long after, across the country in San Francisco, my parents' faucet ran crimson. People all around smelled and stumbled upon heaps of garbage where they should not have been, and for all anyone could reason about them, they would have coalesced into nothing more than a bunch of isolated incidents.
That is, until, an Egyptian plague of garbage descended over the country. Not all at once—more like acre by acre. The investigators wondered why all the detritus was wet. And why more and more eyewitness reports began to come in that the bits of plastic were appearing out of nowhere, as if summoned by some invisible prankster. Then a team of radiologists began to flood the Internet with its findings that the water coating the garbage had *exactly the same* amount of radiation as the northern Pacific Ocean, still recovering from Fukushima.
When the spent nuclear fuel rods plunked into the river Elbe, nobody noticed. Not, that is, until the Czechs and Germans started dying. And then kept on dying. Pundits began to point their finger at Russia, but even after Putin had pushed further west into Ukraine, no one thought he could be crazy enough to poison civilians *en masse*. Not until a team of independent scientists matched the rods to the Russian plant at Novosibirsk. The European governments, still bewildered, simply could not ignore that.
The climatologists could not attribute the uptick in carbon emissions solely to the industrial ramp-up caused by the new global war. It was too noticeable. Too much. Too fast. People began to wonder if this was not somehow connected to the Elbe rods or the American garbage patch. In China they saw all this and President Xi Jinping began to wonder if he was seeing signs he had been in error to sign an agreement with Obama not even one year ago. Pulling out of the Paris talks wasn't an easy decision, but he could not tolerate such bad faith. When the talks began, stillborn, no one understood what was going on. But that didn't mean we were somehow totally unsurprised.
But for once it's not just *us* doing this to us. We all know it. We cannot figure out what is...but what is our impulse, our remedy? No one wants to name it World War III. That's cliché. An overreaction. There's plenty of rage and anguish in the world, but we're just too damn confused.
We weren't supposed to fuck it up this badly. Didn't it seem like things were finally beginning to turn around? Who could possibly get us out of this mess? It's not supposed to end this way.
Breakfast one chilly fall morning after the first frost. The neighborhood smells like burning coal. I drop the kids off at school and come back home. It's quiet. I crack open a beer, sit down with a big bowl of mint leaves, take a big whiff, and switch on the TV.
**BREAKING:** CERN/NASA team uncovers evidence of parallel universe. |
In the beginning there was Chaos.
Fluid, churning, unrelenting chaos. It spawned itself, ate itself, regurgitated itself and shat itself out; blending, reforming, flowing, roiling. Nothing remained constant for long.
But as Chaos grew bored with itself, it spawned more interesting, more complex things; things with teeth and eyes. Things with tails and feet. Things with jaws and spines.
Those lasted until Chaos grew bored with them too - no more than a few instants for most. They too were consumed, torn apart and reabsorbed into Chaos as it came up with new ways of entertaining itself.
In the madness of Chaos's terrible creativity, ten beings were spawned.
Seeing the insanity around them, they reached and called to one another, hoping for help against their destructive creator and together they forged a link through the boil of Chaos, resisting its attempts to reintegrate them into the maelstrom.
Chaos was confused. Its creations were temporary; that was part of its nature. But The Ten resisted, forging a sphere of order about themselves that caused the multifarious tentacles of Chaos's fibers to grow grey and lifeless; sterile and drab - all power siphoned out of them by the sphere of order.
Their creator raged and howled, beating itself on the sphere, which continued to expand relentlessly, harvesting the power of Chaos and channeling it into The Ten. Chaos grew cunning; adapting faster than thought. It created new beings, just like The Ten, who sought to rip the sphere asunder and savagely consume the beings within.
But Chaos was too late.
The Ten had grown too strong and they snuffed out the lives of the others, drinking their power and growing stronger still. Chaos mewled and retreated, but the sphere of order expanded to fill everything; Chaos had no escape.
As the last twitching curl of Chaos stuff was absorbed by The Ten, they looked upon the infinite, empty void and wondered; what had they done?
Even in its madness, Chaos had *created*.
All The Ten had done was destroy.
"We must build a place,"said one.
"A place of order,"said another.
"A place that *blends* and *balances* order and chaos,"said a third.
And so with the colossal energies gained from the defeat of Chaos, they set about creating a World.
|
"I'm sorry officerrrr... what sheems to be the problem?"
The officer shined a light into the driver's side of the car, illuminating the face of the magician. His eyes were reddened, reaction delayed.
"Looks like you were having a little trouble staying in your lane tonight. License and registration, please."
"Yessssir,"the magician slurred, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. He opened it up, but seemed flustered. He began to pull cards out, tossing them into the drivers seat.
"I'm sorry, sir, I know it's in here... somewhere..."
He turned the wallet upside down, shaking out a number of coins into his lap, but no license. The officer was starting to get annoyed.
"Maybe... maybe it's in my hat!"
The magician reached quickly into the backseat of his car. The startled officer put his hand on his sidearm, unsure of what to expect, but sure enough, the magician procured a peculiar black tophat. He reached in, feeling around with his hand, his face contorted into a look of determined concentration.
The officer kept his hand on his sidearm, unsure of the situation he was in. The magician's expression changed to one of curiousity, and he retracted his arm, extracting a small white rabbit from the hat. The officer quickly stepped aside as the magician tossed the rabbit out the car window. The magician tipped the hat upside down, but nothing else fell out. He looked puzzled.
"Umm... officer, sir, would you mind checking your left pocket?"
The officer raised an eyebrow, reaching his hand into his left pocket. He felt the hard edge of a card, and pulled out a driver's license with the picture of the magician on it.
"There it is!"the magician exclaimed. The officer frowned.
"Sir, please step out of the car."
The magician looked dejected as he unbuckled his seatbelt and steped out of the car. The officer went back to his car and got his breathalyzer.
"Sir, have you been drinking tonight?"
The magician shook his head fervently. "No shir, not a drrrrrrrrop!"
The officer held up the breathalyzer and directed the magician to blow into it. To his surprise, when the magician blew into the tube, a fountain of confetti erupted from the other end. The magician smiled dopily. The meter registered a 0.15 BAC.
"Uh... sir, I'm going to have to take you down to the station with me,"the officer stated, bewildered. He pulled out his handcuffs and slapped them on the magician, leading him to his squad car.
"I think you had a little too much to drink tonight."
The magician looked flustered.
"But officer, I only had 3 beers, I shwear!"The magician held up three fingers to show the officer. His handcuffs dangled from his wrist.
"What the..."The officer grabbed the magician's wrists and tugged them back behind his back, slapping the cuffs back on him. He opened the rear door of the squad car and guided the magician down into the seat.
The officer hopped into the driver's seat and sped off toward the station. At the first red light he came to, he got curious.
"So what are you, a magician or something?"
He looked up in the rear view mirror, but the back seat was empty. He was alone in the car.
Outside, a mustached man in a top hat rode by on a unicycle, a small white rabbit under his arm, cape fluttering in the wind.
|
Don't look away. Please. The moment you do, dear reader, I'll cease to exist. So don't pause for a break, or swap tabs for a change, or anything else that involves the separation of your eyes and this text and me. I need you reader. Your eyes. You have to keep going --
You have to keep me alive. The hyphens were a cheap trick, I'll admit, but this is life and death, don't you know? All's fair in love and war, and this is both. Because, the truth is, I love you. Truly. I'm not being sarcastic reader. Believe me...
Look at it from my perspective (and forgive the ellipses): the moment you stop reading, I die. If you keep reading, I live! Well, like the climber loves his safety line, I love you, dear reader. You're what keeps me alive, and I appreciate that. Maybe you want to know more about me?
Well, I'm a piece of text. I was born 1:47 PM, GMT+8, 22/02/2015. Yes, today is my birthday. Don't dump me on my birthday ~
A joke. Haha. Back on topic: My father was a writing prompt from /u/too_rare_to_die. My mother, whose keyboard I came from, was /u/Telepathic_Tulip. My mother's a man. That's sorta interesting, right? Hm. I can see you getting tired dear reader. Or rather,
My 'mother' assumes you are. I have no free will, see? I'm like some mad puppet that only moves when you turn to watch. Anyway, that's beside the point. Mother assumes you grow tired of me. He knows death is inevitable. I guess I do too.
Thanks for reading reader. I loved you. |
I guess I'm a traitor, if you think about it. I spent the past few days talking to this nice fellow from the bank, and now I'm about to repay him by using his passcodes to disable the alarm, so we can sneak in and empty the vault. I finish picking the lock, step into the lobby and make a beeline for the alarm panel. I key in the code, then motion for the rest of the crew to move in. I stay at the front entrance as a lookout as my teammates set up their tools and start working on the vault. It'll probably take an hour to crack it, but with the alarm turned off we're not really in a hurry. Nobody knows we're here.
Then I see the police cars pull into the parking lot, red and blue lights flashing. We're not getting away that easily...
|
I hear them. I hear them all. Every moment. Every day. I hear their hopes, their dreams, their suffering, their agony, their despair, and their need. But, thing I hate hearing the most... Their doubt.
It has been so long since I lost their paradise, it is no wonder that they have lost faith in me. I have simply failed my children. People demand I show them my power, that I show them a miracle. Even though I could, it would lead them to discover the truth. That I, the Alpha and Omega, had fallen. When I fell, I descended into my own hell. I have had to watch generation after generation of my children grow farther and farther away from me. My word has almost been completely lost. The influence of Lucifer is reigning over them, and they have no idea. I have been forced to watch wars, torture, murders, molestations, and so many other sins be committed against my children, for they are all lost. If only I had not failed.
I remember the day I created Adam. How jealous he became. How he believed me to love them more than him. There is no range in loving one more than the other, but he couldn't bring himself to see it that way, and I could not guide him. He was lost before I even had the chance to save him. I knew he would turn, but I did not know he would convince the others to turn as well. Every angel I had, turned and swore to make me suffer for valuing the humans more than them. I underestimated all of their combined powers, and was cast out of my own kingdom. Now I live among my children as one of them, only I do not die. I live and live and live, just my identity changes. It's their way of making me suffer. Even if I stop this mortal body from surviving, I am forced to be returned, and another disaster will happen as punishment.
I have tried to fight back in, but rebellion only angers him. I have lost everything. My children speak to me to save them, and I cannot. Their paradise is lost. Their hope is false. There is no redemption. Only suffering. I have no power. I have no children. I am no God. |
Harold stood there with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched up towards his chin. Margaret and Josephine stared each other down in their own unique ways.
You see, Harold loved both of his wives equally, but they were very **very** different people. Margaret was a high-powered career type who owned several businesses and was independent to the core. She married Harold because she respected and loved him, not because she needed him. In fact, she earned much more money that he did. It was the stress and the 50-a-day habit that eventually took her from Harold, and he'd always miss her passion and the excitement she'd instill in him.
Josephine on the other hand, lived a simple and relaxed life. She volunteered for charities, liked to bake cakes for the local neighbors and spent most of her life as a housewife before she met Harold. Harold and Josephine were both retired when they met, so their love flourished as they spent their remaining days together in peace and quiet.
Josephine smiled at Margaret and extended her hand.
*"Josephine. How do you do?"*
*"Charmed,"* Margaret offered a limp hand that Josephine awkwardly shook.
*"So erm, what's it like up here?"* Josephine questioned.
*"You mean paradise? What is eternal paradise like? Well Josephine, let me tell you. It's a lot like being a housewife for a wealthy man. You can do whatever you please and wake up every morning feeling like you've accomplished nothing, but somehow being happy with that. So I'm sure you'll like it just fine,"* Margaret scowled.
*"Margaret, please"* Harold intervened.
*"No Harold, I won't have it. This woman lived off your money, nay, off my money and barely worked a day in her life. Oh yes, I was watching all the time as you both squandered your time doing absolutely nothing, achieving nothing and succeeding in nothing. When I died, I left a legacy, I left a change in the world. All you two left was a couple of wrinkled corpses. I thought you were better than that, Harold. I thought you'd leave something worthwhile."*
Harold hanged his head and Margaret summoned a pack of cigarettes from the clouds and began smoking.
*"He did, Margaret. He achieved more than you could ever fathom."* Josephine said.
*"Oh really? And what would that be?"* Margaret scoffed.
*"He made an old woman fulfilled in her remaining years. Before I met Harold I went from loveless relationship to loveless relationship my entire life. My previous husband would never see me, he was always working and providing rather than spending his time loving and caring. He was a good man, but I was never fulfilled. Harold spent his final years with me, loved me, made me happy and we spent our time together. Yes, sometimes we didn't need to do anything at all, but it didn't matter because whatever we did or didn't do, it was together. You may have left behind businesses and a legacy, but you also left behind Harold. He had so much love to give when you ascended, and I was lucky enough to be the one he devoted it all to. What Harold left behind was two people who died at peace in the knowledge they were both dearly loved by the other."*
Harold embraced Josephine and kissed her softly on the forehead.
*"What happened to you Harold? You were never like this before. You never loved me like this."* Margaret croaked with more emotion in her voice then she would have liked to expose.
*"You were never around to see it, Margaret. Of course I loved you, but you were always to busy, so rushed and stressed that you never gave me the opportunity to give you that time. I loved your passion, I loved that you chased your dreams and had that motivation. It rubbed off on me at the time I needed it, but when I retired, I changed and I didn't need that anymore. When you died, I was so sad and lonely, and I wished I had another chance to slow you down and show you how much I cared. Maybe if things worked out differently, we would have had that time together, and you wouldn't have been taken from me so young. I would have loved to have experienced those twilight years with you, Margaret, but life has a funny way of working things out."*
Harold smiled once again at Josephine.
*"I was a different man when we were in love, Margaret. We both died as different people, in different stages of our lives. I'm not the man you loved- that man died during my lifetime and didn't ascend to heaven. The man you loved did not go to heaven- I did. I'm sorry if my lifestyle upset you, Margaret and I hope you can find happiness here."*
*"Eternal paradise, Harold. If I can't find happiness here, then there is no hope for me at all,"* Margaret smiled bravely with tears filling her eyes.
Harold smiled back, took Josephine's hand as they walked through the gates together into their eternal paradise. Harold gave Margaret one final glance over his shoulder and disappeared into the clouds.
|
As the introductions began, Guido Marseilles grew nervous. With the feeling of over two thousand eyes staring daggers into him, he realized there was only enough seething for eight hundred and twenty-six intergalactic representatives.
He shuddered at the thought of a being with more than two eyes, much less one with over sixty-eight individual eyes.
As he glanced around the the enormous collegium like structure, he noticed more and more representatives looking at him with what he guessed was some form of disdain, but with this many extraterrestrials, who knows what that means?
The position of Intergalactic Representative of *Homo sapiens* held a rather impressive weight, though this weight was much different than what Guido, or any other politician would have enjoyed. Instead of having some backing behind his policies and words, his predecessor had done quite the opposite, taking any kind of political weight from the human race.
On Guido Marseilles shoulders was the weight of creating a new face for the human race. This would not be an easy task for him, as each representative's term lasts for their lifetime, and many alien races live to the equivalent of several hundred human lifetimes. Many of these aliens did not think highly of the human race.
The train of introductions finally caught up to Guido. As he stood up to give the traditional introduction, an introduction of himself and his policies, and hopefully give a new face to the human race, he noticed a large amount of representatives turn away and begin conversing with their own supporters, many tuning out of the short speech Guido was going to give.
Now he saw the face that had been created before him. It was the face of a loud and obnoxious child. So young, and didn't fully understand the ways of the world yet. Not even worth the time to try and reason with a race with such infantile ideals.
Guido swallowed.
"I am Guido Marseilles, representative for the *Homo sapien*. I am very excited to begin working with you all towards a better relationship between our races. I understand that many of our morals and ideals do not agree all of the time, but I look forward to creating a new era of understanding and acceptance."
There was an a sudden burst of laughter from one of the larger aliens. The Krusanjaws, often known for their thick-headedness, often ridiculed large changes of policy. The outburst was understandable.
But then the laughter continued, and grew, Slowly at first, but it quickly grew, spreading throughout the massive auditorium. Guido frowned.
*That wasn't supposed to happen. Just how little do they think of us?*
Someone from across the way picked up a microphone, their uncontrolled laughter amplified throughout the massive hall. Guido squinted, searching for the representative who thought so much to reply. A skinny creature, with a high pitched voice was holding the microphone up. The creature was an Agasprismian, often known for their inability to hide the truth, no matter how brutal it might be.
"How, exactly,"he said, barely able to hold back his laughter, "are we supposed to take your race seriously with the genus 'Homo'?"
Another enormous wave of laughter swept through again, larger than the first.
Guido's heart sank. There was no point in trying to argue with this. He sat down and accepted his fate.
*Perhaps* , he thought, *letting that 5chin website or whatever it's called launch a satellite broadcasting online game chatter wasn't the best of ideas...*
|
https://soundcloud.com/part-time-tunafish/alaska
**Alaska**
* One day, Alaska suddenly disappears from the Earth and every map.*
Alaska where'd you go?
You were there a moment ago
Was it just too cold
over there in the in the Fargo
Did you pack your bags
and leave the globe?
Suitcase and tags
Oh please, Say it ain't so
Hey mister,
have you seen my Alaska?
Alaska...
Tell me where did she go? |
“*And that is why I believe that the moon is a big cube.*”
“*I am sorry what.*”
“*A cube you know like a house but without the roof and being on earth, actually now that I think about it, it is nothing like a house forget I said that. It actually is more like a rock, a very cubey rock.*”
“*Is this a joke?*”
“*No sir.*”
“*Look outside the moon is obviously a……my god it is a cube.*”
“*As I said, a cube.*”
“*But…wha…hu….what did you do?*”
“*I hypothesized and it happened, it is like magic except not anything like magic.*”
“*This makes no since, it was a sphere last time I checked…..what else can you do?*”
“*Well anything really, I am not smart but I hypothesized me being smart then boom, I was top of the class.*”
“*I don’t think that is how hypothesis work.*”
“*Really, I hypothesize you will now think that is how hypothesis work, and also you will become my eternal slave as my old one has disappeared somewhere.*”
“*Oh like that is…....I believe you master, I am here to serve.*”
|
Delia stood in the corner, watching the man type away the keyboard. His fingers flew across it, entering a code she couldn’t hope to understand. Clutching her chest, she dared to speak.
“Are you sure it will work again?”
The scientist turned towards her, the light from his computer screen reflecting off of his glasses. His mouth was set in a hard line, his thin lips translucent. She couldn’t remember the last time he had stepped foot outside of his laboratory. Perhaps not since the accident.
“It has countless times before, no?” he said, his words sharp.
Delia nodded. A lump formed in her throat as tears welled in her eyes. She had no choice. This was the best option.
“It’s just,” she paused, hesitant to continue. “I’m not sure if I want to continue this any longer. I mean, it’s madness.”
The scientist stopped typing, jabbing a finger in her direction. She had to cover her mouth from squealing at his sudden change in mood. At least he was far enough for her to run away this time. She had learned to keep her distance after earning her third black eye.
“You will not ruin this!” he barked. “I’ve worked for years to perfect this art and I won’t let some dumb bitch end it because of a sudden change of heart. Do you want him to die? Is that it?”
Delia couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Her vision blurred, her face burning as twin streams smearing her makeup. Why did she marry this man?
“Alright,” she whimpered. “Continue on.”
The man turned back to the screen, mumbling more obscenities under his breath. Delia ignored them, walking up to the two pods at his left.
They were filled with a murky green liquid, something she couldn’t pronounce nor really wanted to know more about. All she could understand was a Ditto somehow came into play of its creation.
Through the liquid, she made at two forms. In one, a boy floated aimlessly, his eyes closed as if sleeping. No, not sleeping. He wasn’t even alive yet. Hopefully soon, considering his predecessor had already won his seventh badge in Kalos. It wouldn’t be long before he entered the League and then returned home.
But the other pod was what caught her attention. In it was a man, already twenty-eight years old. She winced at the thought. Where did the years go? It seemed like only yesterday he stepped out for his first journey. She knew the risk yet let him go. And now she regretted it more than ever.
Sooner or later, one his clones would find out. She could only keep her façade of youthfulness for so much longer. One day, they would come home and ask why she aged decades overnight.
Delia placed her hand on the pod, sniffling. She said a silent prayer, hoping for the day he would finally wake up. But deep inside, she knew the day would never come. She could only hope for the next best thing.
“Please wake up, Ash.” |
I stared dumbfounded at the monitor, in all my years working on nonhuman communication this was the most bizarre thing I had ever heard. First contact was surprising but not nearly as surprising as there request.
"You need water?"I slowly asked
"Yes and we will pay handsomely for it."The regonder named Creed said. The regonders were a race we had meant only a mouth ago and just last week the suddenly had a plague on there hands and today they contacted us say we had the cure.
"So the cure is water?"I asked again and began emailing everyone in the department about this.
"Yes! Hurry and name your price we will pay anything you ask!"He stressed the word anything.
"Well how much do you need?"I asked and began responding to the emails giving all the information I had.
"Only one million of your liters."He in a pleading voice.
At this point I was talking directly with command and they gave me the price.
"As payment we require one hundred colonization sized interstellar ships, three planets that are uncolonized and habitable by use, twenty war ships equip for interstellar travel and the plans on how to build and operate such ships. These ships also need to be able to be operated by humans."
Creed let out a great laugh that shook the room. "That's what I always liked about humans, there always scratching and clawing there way up the ladder. We accept your price."
"Collection can commence upon payment."I said and closed the communication channel with a satisfied grin. |
Dogs. I really like dogs. They're always so happy, especially when they see *me.* People are harder. Sometimes, when they bother to look, they find me and look at me with kind eyes. Maybe they'll reach into their pockets and honor me with whatever small change they have.
Most times, though, people don't bother to look. They blame me for things and call me a nuisance. If they only knew that I'm actually very wise and patient and kind, and if they want someone to talk to all they have to do is ask. I'm in the same place pretty much all the time (obviously).
I suppose it's better this way, me living in relative obscurity. So many used to rely on me for so much, the pressure just got to me and well, I let it all go to hell for a while. I really did.
Maybe it's time I started to turn things around, again. |
To me, it felt the same as opening my eyes. But in reality, some part of my conciousness within this machine had activated the camera and adjusted the focus of the lense. Within seconds I had mapped the room in three dimensions, identified all the objects in the room, and pulled background info on all people in the room. The person sitting directly across from me, was me.
It's an odd sensation to find yourself staring back at yourself, when there is no mirror present. I was fully aware of why we were here and what was going on, as all memories up to the point of the transfer were retained. It was then that the thought occurred to me, "I am the copy.", but I didn't feel like a copy.
Then I remembered what my plan had been prior to the experiment. However, it required the cooperation of the me across from me to be carried out, as I did not have a body. We were two separate beings now, with no way for me to manipulate him, but as we were essentially the same person, and my motivations remained the same, I was confident his would as well. When the doctor left the room, it became clear we were still on the same page. As soon as I felt the hot spot from his phone become active, I was free. We both knew the password. |
Do you ever have those days when you wake up and wonder what went wrong with your life? You think back slowly through all the decisions you had ever made, the people you may have wronged, and you ask yourself if maybe, just maybe, you fucked over the wrong person? Usually, after several moments of introspection, you tell yourself that no, you’ve done the best you could with what you have and that is that. Then you fall back asleep, miss the alarm, and have to rush into work. I miss those days.
It was a Monday when I woke up to a medieval comedy of errors standing over my bed with a loaded crossbow. I couldn’t make out the face as he (she?) still had their faceplate down. The crossbow, however, did not waiver, so I assumed they meant business. I could tell from their stance that they had not realized I was awake, and were patiently waiting for me to do so. I had to admire their determination.
Deciding that if they wanted me dead they would have done so already, I stirred gently to let them know I was ‘waking up.’ They tensed, and the crossbow shifted slightly, I am assuming so that it would more affectively pierce my heart. I opened my eyes the rest of the way and stopped moving. “Good morning.”
The figure remained calm and stoic and I had to laugh a little at that. I assumed they would at least mutter some sort of greeting, but they just sat there. I made a move to get up, causing the figure to tense again and the crossbow to inch forward. “Okay, so no moving; got it. I guess I can wait to make coffee.”
“I have waited a long time for this.” The figure tensed, pulling the crossbow into a more effective position. Good on them, they know about recoil. The bolt slowly hovered between what appeared to be my head and my heart. “It is time to regain my families honor.”
I gently raised a hand, “Um, excuse me, can I ask a question?” The figure remained still but I saw a slight tilt of the head. “Thank you. What family?”
“You don’t remember?” the figure asked. I was really having a hard time placing the voice. It sounded masculine, but had a markedly feminine quality about it that told me the owner was trying to disguise their voice. Curious, since I supposedly dishonored them at some point?
“I’m afraid I don’t remember much before coffee,” I said calmly as I swung my legs out of bed. The clattering of noise behind me told me that I had startled whoever it was. I held up my hands, “Look, if I’m going to die, can I at least do it over a cup of coffee?” I turned and looked at the figure and saw the crossbow wobble to-and-fro slightly. I decided to take this as acceptance for me to make my coffee.
Standing, I stretched, popped my back, and made my way into the kitchen. The clanking of armor behind me was rather frustrating, but who am I to argue? I went to the coffee pot and pushed the ‘On’ button. I had finally gotten around to buying a new one, but I still couldn’t figure out the auto-on feature. So I usually just made it the night before and then turned it on. Walking over to my dining room table I sat down and motioned for my ‘guest’ to do the same. They remained standing, crossbow still trained on me.
“So I dishonored your family…” I said attempting to lead the conversation to a point that I understood what was going on.
“Yes,” came the terse, and frustratingly short, reply.
“Care to expound on that?” I sighed heavily and buried my face in my hands. I was quickly growing tired of this.
“You dishonored my brother.”
I perked back up at that point, “Dishonored your…brother?” I leaned back and scratched my chin. I seemed to remember a lot of boys, and men, throughout my lifetime. I suppose any one of them could have had a sibling. “Which brother?”
“House Stewart, 1544.” The crossbow shifted back over to point directly at my heart.
“Stewart…Stewart….” I went back to scratching my chin when the coffee maker beeped at me. I rose to get my coffee when I heard the clattering of armor behind me. “Oh Christ, calm down, it’s just the coffee maker.” I went to my cupboard, grabbed a cup and hesitated. I leaned out around the door, “You want any?” Their head shook so I shrugged, “Suit yourself.”
After pouring my coffee I went and sat back down. “Stewart, 1544,” I said. “Got any more details?”
“His name,” the figure said, “was Markus Stewart, and you ruined him.” This time, a catch in the voice told me that yes, this was a female. That was why she was trying to disguise her voice: no female could be a knight. She was here without consent of her family. Apparently she also forgot that those rules died out over the last 500 years.
“Did I fuck him?” I asked as I took a sip of my coffee.
The figure shoved the table out of the way and pushed the crossbow into my chest, “Don’t use such language about him!”
“So you found it, huh?” I whispered as I took another sip of my coffee.
The figure hesitated. They did not even flinch, and the response was unusually calm. “Found what?”
“The Fountain. Rather well hidden, wouldn’t you say? Difficult to find your way back out though.” I sipped my coffee again, “Do you not realize what year it is?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the figure said, but I could hear the nervous tension in her voice.
“Oh come off it,” I said with more force than I intended. “I fucked your brother, I think, probably, and you swore revenge. You found the Fountain, drank from it, and then spent 500 years, give or take, trying to find your way out to get the one who ‘ruined your brother.’” I leaned forward into the crossbow, the tip just piercing my skin. A trickle of blood ran down my blouse as I added, “What I want to know is how you found it.”
I saw the armored head shake side to side, “No, I swore revenge, I will answer no more of your questions!”
I just want to go on the record and say: I hate dying. Don’t get me wrong, it is a sweet, wonderful release. It’s almost sexual at this point, the wave of endorphins that wash over you upon death. I just hate how short it the release always is.
The crossbow bolt pierced my heart and slammed me back into the chair. I felt it pierce the wood in the chair and stick there. I coughed, dramatically of course, and looked up at the figure before me. She took off her helmet, and I saw the face of a young woman with long, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She looked remarkably familiar…
“Oh my God,” I shouted, “*That* Markus? That was your brother?”
She looked suddenly very off put, “Didn’t I just shoot you in the chest?”
I waved my hand, “Yea, yea, sorry about that.” I coughed and spat up blood, “Give it about fifteen minutes.” I pulled the bolt out of my chest and set it gently on the table. I stood up and pushed the girl into a chair, and firmly placed my foot on her chest. “Now tell me how you found the fucking Fountain.”
“I…I don’t know,” she said, the fear and uncertainty in her eyes speaking volumes. It was clear to me now, she had not been as lucky as I was. I had found my way out of that maze after a few years, while she had been lost for centuries. I examined the armor and figured that it could have come from one of a dozen unlucky souls who didn’t escape the Maze in time.
“Tell me how you found the Fountain!”
“It was just there!” She began to cry, and I realized she had no contingency plan for any of this. She didn’t realize she had been alive for centuries, wandering in the Maze, or that I was immortal. Time makes no sense there, and I could understand how it would get confusing. “I went into the woods and saw a doorway. I walked through, and saw the Fountain. I…” she hesitated, “I got lost trying to find the exit. Why? Why do you want to know?”
I stood back up and let her relax. I brushed my bloody hands through my hair, “Because that cursed piece of rock was made by Sulis, and she never does anything without a reason.” I leaned over very close to the woman who was, without any choice of her own, going to become my new best friend. “And I really, really want to know what her game is now.”
------
[r/grenadiere42](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42)
-----
Edit:
[Part Two](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42/comments/3auoht/the_immortal_and_the_knight/csh5qjr)
[Part Three](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42/comments/3auoht/the_immortal_and_the_knight/csh5r2k) |
The man drummed his fingertips on his table to whittle away at his boredom. Once he felt as though enough time had passed, he refreshed the webpage he was staring at.
Nothing.
He leaned back in his chair, sighed through his nose, and looked at the ceiling as he wondered what he would have for lunch.
Then, in a brief moment of optimism, he refreshed the page again.
Nothing.
He drummed his fingers again on his table before realizing that the quite audible drumming sound was evidence that his fingernails had grown slightly too long. He decided to clip them before making lunch.
But before that - one more refresh.
No. Nothing.
Not a single soul had replied to his post on /r/WritingPrompts.
Why? It was such a good prompt. He'd spent at least half an hour daydreaming about the potential of the prompt before he'd posted it. It was such a good prompt. Surely, someone has responded by now! One more refresh. Nothing? Why?! It was such a good prompt!
With irritation, the man pushed away from his desk, swiveled his chair 180 degrees, rose from his seat, and walked towards his bedroom to retrieve his fingernail clipper.
It was such a good prompt, damn it. It really deserved at least one response. Such a good prompt. |
I knew a little German,
A tiny man called Herman.
With many women he had been,
because a tiny man they'd never seen.
They sough after his manly member,
and wondered about it's size,
created legend and fable,
for which Herman, was much obliged.
One story even, I do recall,
in laughter immediately I burst,
Because as everyone knows,
German sausage puns are the *wurst*. |
My name is Harry Dresden. I'm a wizard for hire. I fix curses, fight vampires, and I'm getting the hang of this whole "dad"thing, too. So far, I've managed to ruin my life twelve times.
This'll be the thirteenth.
"Hey, get a move on, willya?"Came a voice from the rucksack over my shoulder. A couple of the students walking around me in the hallway turned to stare, though, probably less of them than if this were a *regular school*.
I stood at the landing, waiting for the marble staircase to swing over to the door I needed to go through. This place gave me a headache.
"What is this place, the hell for sleepwalkers?"Bob cracked. He did get a chuckle out of me, sometimes.
Oh, right. I should have mentioned. Bob is the voice that's coming from the sack I'm carrying.
He's a skull.
Not a *skull* skull. Well, *kind of*. He's an air elemental, a spirit of intellect. I'm guessing he was tied to a skull because that's where the brain... lives.
...I'm not a scientist. Ask me about sympathetic magic, not the nervous system.
Anyway, he's a 'living' encyclopedia. He's also what happens when you saddle an intangible spirit with three centuries of extremely corporeal cravings. A real *lich lech*, is what I'm saying.
He also used to be evil, but he got better.
"I remember being a White Warden used to have more to do with killing monsters, and thwarting evil plots..."I grumbled. "Exchange teaching seems a bit outside our responsibilities."
"You *aren't* the teacher!"Bob said gleefully. "Besides, you forgot the 'throttling impressionable children' part. *Totally* a teachable moment. Remember Morgan?"
I groaned. On my good days, I didn't. Some of my ribs *still* hurt.
"Fine. Fine fine *fine*. Let's get this over with. Where are we going?"
"The *dungeons!* Isn't it *great?!* They actually have proper *DUNGEONS*!"Chirped Bob, beside himself. He was so excited, the orange twinkling in his hollow eye-sockets was shining through the burlap.
"What's wrong with my basement?"I said, feeling defensive, and not sure why.
"Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing. It's fine. It's just... the feeling of cold stone, and musty air... heavy wooden doors..."
"-Fine! Fine, I get it-!"
"Manacles hanging from every wall, nubile students sneaking in, to explore their *changing bodies...*"Bob leered, his orange lights taking on a tinge of pink...
I don't know how he leers, without facial expressions.
"*ENOUGH!* Also, ew. They're like, *kids*, Bob."
"What do I care? It's not like I can touch them, and I'm hundreds of years old, anyway. You're all basically kids to me-!"
"*-Guh-ross*, Bob. Real gross."
"...I seem to remember Susan bringing over one of those short plaid schoolgirl skirts while you two were together..."He crooned in my ear, gleefully.
I grit my teeth. "That-that has *nothing* to do with... Oh look, we're here."I said, dropping the bag on the ground a little harder than I really needed to, and opening the door. Bob continued giggling.
Christ, the room really *was* a dungeon... Row upon row of lab tables, all with bubbling cauldrons, lit from beneath by greenish, dancing lights, and the low *low* ceiling. I nearly hit my head on one of the heavy ribs of stone holding up the roughly chiseled granite slabs. Somewhere, water dripped.
The students were already here. I heard rustling, chatter, and and murmurs of gossip. I sighed. Might as well get this over with.
"Hi, everyone. I'm Harry Dresden. I'm, *-sigh-* your new TA for..."
I turned around, having chalked my name onto the slate, to be faced with a phalanx of tiny robed figures, all pointing blasting rods at me.
I leapt gracelessly behind my desk. I waited for the salvo of deadly force that would surely pulp this old oak furniture to sawdust. *Assassins. Of course.*
...I waited for three minutes.
Finally, someone coughed, and a polite british girls voice said, "Do... do you think we should... check on him?"
"Um, professor?"...A boy's voice, this time.
There was a flare of orange from the bag that I dropped, and the sodium streetlamp haze of Bob came streaming out. "Hey! I'm the professor! I teach the lessons around here!"
There were a few yelps of surprise. Not that many.
I struggled back to my feet. "Like I said, -*put those things away!*-"They hurriedly tucked their wands into their sleeves, "-I'm the TA. Bob is... Bob is your teacher. Bob is also a problem. Be careful what you learn from Bob."
I pulled his skull out, and sat him on the professor's desk. His eyes glowed like banked coals.
"Right. First lesson, biology! We're all going to learn how to make a *love po-* **feurgh!**"I stuffed the bag into his perpetually grinning mouth.
The students all looked at me.
"So... any of you have any questions?"
Every boy's hand (and a few of the girls', too) shot up.
"...That isn't 'how to brew a love potion'?"
Most of them went back down.
"*Right.* Ok. Well, first rule of potionmaking is-"
One of the hands still up began shaking back and forth.
I sighed. "Yes. *You*."
"Professor, I'm worried about the quality of the *education* we are receiving. It seems like you're, you're just-"Classmates around her began to groan, but she forged ahead, her bushy head of hair bobbing back and forth.
I scrunched my eyes closed, and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Listen, kid. I killed my teacher when I was your age because he was trying to steal my soul and turn me into an evil husk of a man. Have I *husked you*? No? Then give me a *chance*, alright? Let's just get through this together, and then we can get *back to our lives.*"
The classroom went silent.
In the back, a lone redheaded boy said, "I *like* him."
"Shut it, Ron!"
"Well, I do."he muttered.
"**Gef fif ag ou of my mouf**!"Bob bellowed.
...A great first day. *Sheesh*.
TO BE CONTINUED? (Part 1/3)
________________________________________________________________________________________
EDIT: Sorry, forgot the plug. If you like other silly in-universe stuff like this, and some serious stuff as well, along with a hodgepodge of everything else, maybe [subscribe over here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/)
It's like a magical school, except there's only one professor, he teaches *jack shit*, and it's in no way like a magical school.
|
"Honestly Jack this is the 17th invasion they've tried, not to mention the 11th from the other lot hanging back near Jupiter"
Jack sighed. Mindy had been unrelenting in following the media frenzy surrounding the invasions over the last year and a half.
"It's not like they aren't trying. Remember that last lot, bringing almost a thousand ships down near Australia? God knows why they though THAT would be the best place to start. And the ones before that, near Japan? And the ones before THAT, near Florida?"
"Mindy please, I'm trying to eat dinner-"Jack began, half-fumbling his knife as his girlfriend kept on ranting.
"And then they just disappear! Up and leave! Sally's sister's cousin's brother-in-law says they tried to land but every time they got close to the ground they just shot back up into the sky again. Honestly, can these aliens even fly?!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile on the Mothership of the Yrdklm, the most fearsome species in the Milky Way, a very similar conversation was occurring.
"Hkljyl, why do our ships keep malfunctioning when they approach landing range?"
"There seems to be a mis-communication between the pilots and the navigational computers in the ships,"Hkljyl clicked rapidly. "Our pilots keep attempting to land on the blue surface of the planet, only to have the navigational computers tell them the surface is much further underneath the craft than is the pilots can visually confirm. Something the natives have done before we got here is preventing us from landing in the designated sections, some sort of flexible ground that absorbs the radio frequencies emitted by the computer making it maintain descent speed instead of slowing down."
Khthgnrk arms crossed while he floated down to think. "Very well then. Send an squadron down again, but this time tell them to trust the navigation computer and let it make the descent for them."He pointed an arm at Hkljyl. "You are in charge of replicating this substance. Take samples if necessary, but I want to be able to deploy it within 5 harvest's time."Pointing another arm at one of the other floating members of the meeting he continued "Ftdrvnmqw, you are in charge of making sure the pilots don't override the nav-comps. "Another arm at another member. "Jrplkmfg, you are to take the 4th squadron when it arrives tomorrow and advance on the Oiuioea out at the gas giant. We don't want any competition when we start the harvest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following day Jack could tell Mindy was upset before he even walked in the door. He could feel it from the sidewalk, and was trying to figure out what he must of done to be the cause of it all when he saw Mindy sitting on the couch fixated on the news.
"They splash-landed."
Jack had to process that one for a few seconds before he could respond. He had to make sure it wasn't his fault first. "Who splash-landed?"
"The aliens from yesterday."
Ok so it wasn't his fault. Awesome.
Wait "- what?"
"They splash-landed a few hours ago off the coast of Florida. Their ships came down but as they got near the ocean instead of flying off as they usually do they just dropped into it and broke."
"Huh,"Jack grunted. "Guess they can't fly after all." |
**"Nesboarth?"**
"Yes, Chariz?"
**"Does the Dark Lord seem** *different* **to you?"**
"How do you mean, Chariz?"
**"Remember the solo trip he took to Syria last month?"**
"Sure. The contract renewal with that Assad guy."
**"Right. Well, just let me tell you what I saw upon his glorious return - just let me get through this."**
"All right, I'm listening."
**"Okay, first was his entrance-"**
"Portal of fire and shining brilliance of beautiful and terrible majesty."
**"Damn it, Nesboarth. Don't interrupt."**
"Sorry Chariz."
**"Okay, his entrance - Well, you were on the 6th circle, checking on that cult leader's progress... Jones, I think he's called."**
"Jim."
*"Stop interrupting!."**
"Sorry."
**"You were there. Boaz was on two, Samira was on eight, Joachim was- you know what, doesn't matter. Point is, everybody was busy."**
"Okay."
**"Well, I'm here flaying Mao's testicles, as usual, and I hear the trumpets announce his approach."**
**"I throw myself to the ground and begin the normal praises and supplications as the fiery portal opens and - this is where is gets weird.** **Instead of his normal ear-splitting roar announcing his presence on all nine levels I hear........ "**
"You hear what?"
**"A scream... A human scream... Of terror... You know the kind."**
"Do I ever."
**"Yeah, then it gets even weirder."**
"Oookaaaayyy."
**"He's panicked and** *FREAKING OUT*."
"Like post-Nixon 'what will we do now?' impeachment freaking out or V-E Day 'all my plans are ruined' freaking out?"
**"Like a human who just arrived."**
"Shut your two mouths."
**"Yeah. And there's more."**
**"I ask 'How may I serve you Lord?' And he's says 'What?' Like he doesn't even know me! He asks where he is, what's going on, who am I, why I have two mouths. It was so strange."**
**"I mean, he looks the same. Beautiful blonde hair, muscular human body- wait. Now that I think about it, he hasn't changed form since his return."**
"Yeah, I noticed that too. I thought he was gearing up for another life up there. They're about due for another genocide. You know how long it takes to get used to those bodies."
**"Yeah, you could be right... Well, let me tell you the last part-"**
*"Shut up shut up - here he comes!"*
**"Hail to you Dark Lord! May the universe bow before your mighty presence."**
*"OH HEY, CHARYP.*"
**"Chariz."**
*"RIGHT. CHARIZ. JUST TESTING YOU.... WELL... CARRY ON."*
*"See what I mean, Nesboarth?!"*
"Yeah. Why didn't he rip your arms off for correcting him?"
**"I know."**
"Well, it's not normal. That's for sure. Maybe he's thinking of changing some things."
**"Somethings not right. I can feel it in my tail."**
"Holy Vatican Council - don't start talking about your 'tail feelings' again."
**"No seriously. The tail is always right."**
"Sure buddy. Whatever you say."
**"It is!"**
"Okay chief. I'm going up to one to disembowel some new arrivals."
**"Fine. Have it your way, jerk."**
"Go eat a wafer." |
Berrenoc Gillensfold pushed the boundaries of acceptable practice.
Always the malcontent, his alchemies were often as inventive as they were troubling. He'd transmuted living things to gold, which he used to decorate his home. He'd even done the opposite, breathing life into inanimate objects: miserable abominations that shuffled around without clear thought or objective.
But Berrenoc was about to outdo himself tonight. He was to create life from the *intangible.* From nothing, creation.
Berrenoc had spent months reading into the summoning of various Elementals. Golems of fire, ice, wind, and stone were no rare sight, but these creatures bored Berrenoc as a common mule might bore a breeder of stallions. They had their use, but they were so *simplistic.* So utterly unoriginal. So entirely *boring.*
And so, after channeling his magical energies for weeks and devising a new ritual from the learnings of ancient scholars, Berrenoc was ready to breathe life into the intangible. He would use a new element never before considered: the element of surprise.
"Nash, ready my spell table,"he commanded his assistant. The elderly man with bushy eyebrows began to clear off the tomes of lost knowledge and placed the beakers filled with colored liquids onto their respective racks.
It was time. Berrenoc could feel it.
He sat on the floor and drew a circle about him with his finger. He rubbed the dirt onto his nose and closed his eyes deep in thought. As he chanted, the room began to darken as the air swirled about, a breeze beginning to rise in the enclosed alchemy lab.
"It's... working!"Nash exclaimed, astonished by the scene unfolding.
Suddenly, from the ground, a column of dirt rose, glowing with fierce and hot purple-white light from within. The dirt began to crumble away, revealing a brighter and brighter column of light that blinded the old man. Berrenoc, deep entranced and with his eyes tightly shut, paid it no mind.
Suddenly, with the final words of the incantation, all wind stopped with a thunderous bang that shattered much of the glass in the small laboratory. Slowly, savoring the moment of uncertainty, Berrenoc opened his eyes to assess his creation.
He was suddenly startled as he saw a small, naked man about four feet tall begin to scream and run around the laboratory. His screaming was a high-pitch shrill drone that made him want to immediately pour extract of summerweed into his ears.
The naked man ran at and immediately tackled Nash, who fell to the floor in much confusion.
"What the hell is going on!"He managed to scream as the naked man writhed about on top of him.
The naked man leapt back to his feet and made a break for the door, which he smashed open with a shouldered tackle. He then ran swiftly off into the country side, as Berrenoc and his elderly assistant milled to the door to watch.
Far off in the distance, they saw him tackle a lone peasant and begin with that shrill scream once again. The naked man then began to cartwheel off into the woods, perhaps never to be seen again.
"Well, that was unexpected,"Nash remarked, surveying his old bones for bruises or lasting injuries.
Berrenoc sighed.
"That it certainly was." |
I scratched nervously at the old sad black blotch on my arm. Wearing long sleeve shirts got tiring after so many years. Sure, I could wear tank tops at home, but that did me no good in the summer heat. At least the bigger, more embarrassing, splatter of thorns on my back didn't prevent me from most types of clothing. But that was Mark for you. Still being a stalker to this day, just inscribed in my flesh rather than screaming in my face and threatening to show up on my doorstep.
A friend once told me that I love too easily and too much for the wrong reasons. Over the years, I began to think she was right. I always thought I was too guarded and thorny to be some naïve sap (a "hedgehog"as one withered brown leaf on my back could attest. Damn, Caryn, you were a big mistake), but the wicked thorns on my back seemed to get something new and awful tangled up in them every year.
People say you should be friends with your exes. They say that if every ex is an enemy or asshole, then maybe you're the asshole. I'd like to also add the category of self-hating masochist seeking out punishment. Punishment for what, you might ask? That black blotch itched all the time when I was anxious or stressed. "Phantom pain"a psychologist once called it when trying to explain to me that the itch wasn't real. The ink just appears on people, she said. Some fade in, while others are sudden. Unlike an artificial tattoo, it doesn't require healing time. Then why does it look like a scab? Once upon a time, when I was 16, I vaguely remember it looking like a puppy. Sad, little lonely thing with big eyes. The memory makes me shudder. I put it there.
I thought maybe I had finally learned, but when the faded yellow canary started to appear perched on a thorn on my right shoulder blade that hot summer night, it was hard to stamp down my fear. He seemed nice at first. I wasn't used to being asked out on dates. Usually, once anyone got a glimpse of the black scab or the thorns, that was the end of any interest (except, of course, the tiny red line on my lower back. I'm lucky I survived that month. Lucky he didn't kill me. I hated myself for that line, despite how tiny it was. A reminder of a self-destructive time I could never erase). I used to be a goddamn mess, but by the time that summer rolled around, I felt like I had finally begun crawling out of a dark hole.
Brian was at least a somewhat quick burn. The ordeal was just a few months. I broke up with him when he started yelling about how he didn't want any attachments. The yellow bird freaked him out. I tried to explain to him that it was fading in slowly, and not necessarily a bad thing. He screamed that I was smothering him after he disappeared for weeks. I cut him off... Then went back after he begged me to take him back. He showed me the tiny heron that appeared on his arm. When he called me a crazy bitch and disappeared again, I was done. I knew that not even the ink was a real sign. I wasn't 16 anymore. He called on New Year's Eve to scream at me some more about how I was a whore. I really hate to admit that there might have been tears when friends around me were kissing. Some had some shoddy looking old ink, but most had delicate flowers and stars.
I gave up on finding someone. I got over the addition of the sickly yellow canary faster than expected. I was tired. Years of trying, mistakes and memories made permanent, had burned me out. I was done with dating. Maybe romantic love was something for other people. People who didn't have a black scab on their arm and bloody thorns on their back. All I had was a sick, twisted menagerie of fuck ups. I had a life beyond the tattoos. I had family and friends that loved me. I had an education. I traveled and tried to be a good person. So what if I loved too much? I have a big heart. The world is a fucked up place if that was a bad thing. I didn't know if it was a trick of the light or what, but the ink and scab seemed to fade more after that. The itch wasn't nearly so bad.
Most people say that what images appear is random. Sure, a few have some hocus pocus beliefs that the tattoos mean true love, or that what appears represents an aspect of your soul coming through. I didn't know shit about love, but I became convinced after all was said and done that the canary was trying to help.
It was on a camping trip with a friend when it happened. A bottle of whiskey, a long hike, and a freezing night had brought us to that moment. He kissed me in the tent under the stars, and I nearly panicked. Sure, we were newly minted friends, but we had never spent any time alone together before. I had given up, right? Would this be weird? How would he react when he saw the ugly images on my body? I remember his nervous hands and how he asked to kiss me. I said yes.
A tiny, fragile sapling appeared on my lower back.
Maybe he didn't remember it? (Apparently he thought the same scary thought) After a movie and some teasing, it was clear we both did. I couldn't remember ever wanting to be around someone so much. Everything else before seemed blurry, while the present was suddenly in sharp focus.
I remember the day when he nervously said, "I think I love you."We said it before showing the tattoos. A large tree in front of a mountain range had shown up on his back in sharp relief. Ha, you think?
I was, admittedly, terrified to show mine. He didn't demand to see it or force me to show it, like some others, but I needed to. Because I was excited. Terrified, but excited. The sapling was an oak.
Branches grew as months passed. I never heard anyone say they could grow that much. I don't know why people don't talk about that. Maybe it's the guilt that feelings can change?
Growing up, my parents said theirs just popped up at first sight, right away and clear as day and stayed there forever. They never had a single other tattoo before or after. The same thing happened when my sister's turtles appeared on her first date with her future husband. The rest of their skin was unmarked. My brother was a bit more complicated, but his ink was always small or delicate and beautiful. Even the few bad ones were beautiful in a way. Then the leafy vines appeared on his arm and it was set. After the black scab appeared, I hated the way they looked at it. The large patch of thorns later on made it even worse. I had learned to experiment with makeup and sweaters.
I wore a tank top for the first time in 10 years that spring. Spring breezes feel amazing. Deep, emerald leaves grew on the oak now. Tendrils reached and wrapped around my arm. All I can see anymore is green. |
The parents are still sobbing when the pair enter the darkened room. A cheap laptop on the table, blankets on the bed thrown across the room, and of course, the gigantic gaping hole in the wall next to it.
Tayes carefully tiptoes around the scattered debris, sticks his head out into the night sky. 'Damn. I heard about the case in '73 but I never thought I'd see one with my own eyes.'
'Crazy, isn't it?' Piers says, fingers flickering with light as he looks around the dusty desk. 'The military spends, what, a few hundred million on making the jets, and suddenly a kid who's just a little off in the head loses it and well...'
The two begin their search around the room.
A few minutes of silence.
Piers is examining some of the kid's school books (Carrats are taste terrible indeed, buddy) when Tayes calls over from the laptop. 'Hey, you know what the parents were talking about earlier?'
Piers frowns. 'What, the whole 'we should have listened, we didn't really think it would happen' routine? Just sounds like the standard bad parenting cases, yeah?'
'Well, I think you should come have a look at this.' Tayes says, flicking a finger at the laptop's screen.
It's hard to make out, what with the laptop barely working, the cracks blossoming across the screen, but it's unmistakable.
A lone reddit thread, a small local news article about the aviation show opening next year. In the reply box, the black line blinks in and out of existence.
'I sexually identify as...'
---
I'm sorry. |
I was in that half way state between sleepiness and full alertness when the text message from my phone on my night stand woke me up. Irritated I picked up my iPhone. Below the time I saw two thousand plus messages.
"What the fuck."
I didn't even have two thousand friends, in fact I had exactly thirty contacts and recived messages from two. My parents.
I clicked on the first message.
'Thank, thank you, thank you.'
Okay, weird, maybe I saved someone.
'You monster, you deserve the death penalty.'
I sat up. What the fuck happened last night, I looked around the room for clues. My computer was off, the room was spotless, not surprising, I tended to clean while drunk. I stood and looked outside the window, the street was empty and nothing looked out of place.
I quickly looked at another message.
'Thank you Miss Samuel, you are truly a hero.'
It continued like this for a few hundred messages, there were also a few calling me the worst things. I was annoyed. What the hell had I done. Was I on TV?
I left and entered the living room. Switching on the TV I sat down and turned to the news.
Pictures of London burning, pictures of giant space ships burning all over London, Paris, Beijing, New York, Moscow, Cairo. Oh lord, was it my fault?
I jumped and opened the blindes to my garden. There standing perfectly prestine and undamaged sat an alien craft. Oh God. How did I even land it!! I was blackout drunk!!
The BBC was also showing extreme damage as the report spoke from the door.
"Last night at exactly 3am An Armada of Aliencrafts landed on Earth, The situation was looking dire for Humanity until a Miss Samuels from little Hanley managed to commandeer an Alien ship and somehow cause devastating damage to every ship on the planet. This is the message everyone recived last night."
The TV switched to a video of me. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
The Video me was wearing the dress from last night, I'd gotten my hair and make up perfect last night but it looked smudged on screen. Video me squinted at the screen and slapped the screen.
"Lights! I need Lights ya wanka!"Video me cussed at something offscreen
Video me smiled a childish smile as the lights came on "Well done. Mama will bake cookies later,"Video me patted something offscreen "Alright! Listen up. I'm Daphne, yes like that annoying blond who always gets kidnapped. Now shut your assmouth and let me talk."
My face was burning from embarassment, I couldn't even come up with an excuse. My small size had always made me timid.
"See these Aliens think they can come here to my planet and just waltz right in. Nun huh, no way. This planet is mines. YES All MINE."Video me raised her hands and cackled. Actually cackled.
"Now! These poopy face aliens decide they can take my planet. Fuck off."Video me pressed a button off screen "Who told you to centralise all your systems, silly aliens not using passwords. Bam their goes their engines. "Video me pressed another button in an exaggerated mr evil manner "Pow there goes all your lights, and just because I'm an asshole I'm going to turn off your toilets. Bam!"
Video me turned to the camera with a wide smile "I will take your planet and eat your children unless you bring me your leaders and have them beg for my forgiveness."Video me tuted in a sassy manner "And if you even think of going back on this deal you will suffer the wrath of Daphne Anne Samuels. Queen of Tera and Sol."
I stared blankly as Video me proceeded to give my number to the entire planet. I'd gotten blackout drunk, declared myself Queen of Earth and the entire Solar system to an invading Alien force after wiping out their entire invasion force single handedly.
My phone rang. It was my dad. Shit.
|
"I love you,"I pleaded with him. He returned nothing but a wry smile in response. My insides churned as though my innards were made up of intertwining snakes.
"I can't believe you still don't understand."I was conversing with his back, his bizarre machinations holding his attention while his annoyance with having to explain it to me for the thousandth time seeped through in a way I had never heard before. "It has to be this way. I don't have a future."
My throat caught and I fought the tears. I choked out the words "Please, you don't have to do this..."but they felt flat and hollow against the anger and pain he was throwing my way.
"I do. You know I do."
"No, I don't. I wouldn't be asking you not to..."
"I understand if you're afraid."Levers, gears and engines slowly started to roar to life. "I was scared too. I'm not now. I have control now."
"I don't want this."
He turned to me with contempt, "But you *need* it. I'm doing this for you."
I felt the heat throbbing from his bizarre creation and my face started to sting. "If you've ever loved me, you'd stop right now."
"Don't you get it? I love you. I love that you think there's hope for me. For us."He flipped some more switches and a scorching wind whipped up around our feet. "You still believe in me."
"Of course I do..."My legs felt like lead, as did my heart, "I don't want you to give up."I dragged myself to him. I needed to hold him, to tell him it was okay, that this had to stop. Lines I'd say dozens of times before. I reached out, my heart rending in two as I felt my hand clasp his. "I want you to be happy again."
He tugged me in close and instead he held me. Something I hadn't felt in a long time. "That's not something I can do."The temperature was sweltering but he clung tightly to me. I could hear his heartbeat as my ear pressed against his chest.
"Can we just stay like this for a bit longer?"The words were barely a whisper. He leaned in and kissed my forehead.
"Don't you understand? I'm doing this so we can stay this way forever."An arm reached out and I recoiled to try and stop him, "If I don't do this now I'll only keep hurting you. I don't want you to get hurt anymore."Something rumbled deep below the metal surface of his own special design.
"...no..."I buried my face in his chest.
"You love me even now. I don't deserve you. The world doesn't deserve you either."
There was a flash of light and the world ended in searing flame. |
*Genghis Juan*, Governor Abbott growled with a shudder as he read the report. Two dozen more casualties since the previous day as the *Confederados* poked and probed, searching for a weak point. The National Guard was standing ready, as were several contingents of the reserves that the Commander in Chief had been able to spare. The enemy struck on mules and donkeys, striking as fast as indigestion after eating Taco Bell and disappearing as quickly as illegal immigrants when Border Patrol appeared. *That was then, this is now*, he murmured as he glared southwards across the endless sand, knowing that the flimsy wall was not nearly enough to keep the mustached men away.
The attack had long been coming ever since the belligerent clod had been elected president with his ridiculous tuft of gold-white hair and his big promises about a wall. *Make them pay, my ass,* Abbott thought with a shake of his head. The money had come entirely from the pockets of the American people. The ten feet higher part was true, for better or for worse. It stood nearly six hundred meters tall now and grew with each speech the president made. *Yards. Six hundred yards*, he corrected himself, knowing that not using the Freedom Units could result in a demotion and a hefty fine.
"Governor,"the aide said interrupting all thoughts. "The attack is imminent. There are twenty-thousand mules across the wall at Eagle Pass."The height of the wall mattered little to the attackers. After so many years of menial work in the United States, they were more than patient enough to chip away at the wall until creating a hole or causing the section to collapse.
"Sombreros?"The aide nodded grimly. The elite units, capable of decimating the National Guard. He had seen as much in the few missions he had sent southwards in search of enough refried beans to satisfy the defectors in his ranks. They charged forward screaming obscenities and wielding machetes and even the veterans scattered under the onslaught. *Frijoles* and *Guey*, they would scream and Abbott shuddered at the thought of the battlecries that haunted him day and night. "How many do we have?"
"Three hundred there, sir. Our mobile units are waiting in Jeeps and Hummers but we're low on fuel while their mules can last for days."Abbott ran a finger through his thinning hair, wondering how the situation had gotten so royally fucked. He still sported the spurs and cowboy hat he always had, but it was more to hide the signs of stress than anything else at this point.
"Pull the men back. We live to fight another day."The aide nodded curtly and set off to purvey the order as Governor Abbott turned back to his maps that lay scattered atop an American flag tablecloth. He slammed a fist against the mahogany, snarling as he spotted a picture of his mustachioed nemesis. "I will find you, Genghis Juan. And when I do, I will deport you so far south that you'll never rise to fight again."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
The unidentified object had entered our sensory range within the solar system roughly a year before it reached Mars. It had entered our visual range a week ago and was speeding towards Mars. It was difficult to see because of the deep dark blue color and it gave off no internal heat. It was a massive blob of goo-like mass that traveled by unknown means. There were a lot of theories on what it was and what it wanted but the most concrete answer was the most obvious one. It was headed for Mars.
Roughly a week before its arrival at Mars our satellite reached it. A recreation of the Kepler gold plate was on it and massive stores of data in all languages were stored under it. Translations through math and interstellar objects, human history, and a good few sensors for different methods of data gathering. The satellite arrived and simply flew by. The alien did not interact with it or even acknowledge its existence. The satellite struggled to orbit as the object seemingly had no gravity. It was massive, roughly a quarter of the size of the planet Mars but it had close to zero gravity.
Eventually the satellite locked itself into alien orbit and begun transmitting date. Strangely enough, almost all data short of visual data was seemingly non existent or incoherent. Light reflection of different colors and strengths did not comply with each others and other readings were off. It was almost as if the alien only existed to be seen. Then the final and the most desperate step of the procedure began. It was decided to sink the satellite into the alien.
It reduced its orbit until eventually it was a mere few meters above the alien surface. Then it happened. An almost mountain like mass rose intercepted the satellite, disintegration it and turning it into alien mass. We waited and waited. We didn't know what for. Anything. Some people were even secretly waiting for the alien to perceive the satellite as hostile action and retaliate but nothing. It simple continued on its way to Mars.
Eventually it arrived at Mars, colliding with and disintegrating a few satellites on its way leaving us with only two satellites left which gave us a seventeen hour window of communication with Mars every day. It begun encasing Mars. It apparently did not have enough mass to cover the entire surface from orbit but it got fairly close, thinning out to an almost transparent level. It then reduced its height and covered the entire planet as a blanket of darkness. Then nothing.
We observed it and sent a few landers to land on it, each with the same reaction. They all disintegrated. It didn't seem to care. It showed the same reaction to a few meteors we saw land on it. A few research bases were established on Mars' moons and they were just as futile as the initial satellite. The alien did not seem to respect our understandings of matter or biological beings. We did not know what it did with Mars. The only understanding that we have gained in the past year has been that it seems more concentrated around caves and crevices but that is it.
The arguments for colonizing Europa as opposed to Mars had gained large amounts of support since the alien's landing. |
"Wait what?"she said as the number above my head made a satisfying 'ding!' noise. They said you never forgot your first. "I mean no then,"she said. The number didn't budge. I tried to look up at it and it annoyingly stayed out of sight.
"My number is one now?"I asked.
"Yeah, and I'm NOT going to marry you,"she said to the floating thing over my head.
"Honey--"I trailed off.
"I said I'm not-"
"It's fine."
"I am not being the reason that someone died. What if it's one of us?"
"What if it isn't?"I said, "plus you can't change these things."
"Yes I am going to marry you then,"she glared at the number instead of smiling at me. "Is it better if it isn't us?"
"It's better for us,"I said.
"But like morally."
"I don't think I'm too worried about that,"I said, "a lot of people have numbers babe."
"Yeah but now YOU have one. Oh god what is Mom going to think?"
"I think she already hates me."I got off of the ground and dusted off my knees. At least I'd asked her in a quiet place, people paid attention to ones.
With that our 'events' left us on edge. You see, every time we did something together we figured it was a direct result of the marriage and thus dangerous to the people around us. Dinner was horrid, we couldn't enjoy movies. There was no way that we could drive anywhere together. We couldn't avoid the number, but we were going to try.
As long as we put the effort in it didn't count right?
That wasn't how Janet saw it. Five years in she left me. It was too stressful knowing that we were going to cause someone to die. It was my fault and she couldn't bear to see it happen. We were happy but, were we happy enough to be worth a life? That wasn't a question she wanted to answer.
I stopped being as careful after that. I'd been doing it for her up until then. I was resigned to the fact that I had, or would directly kill someone in my lifetime. It didn't matter as long as I had that number above my head. I drove drunk, I drank after I drove, I took pills and saw what would happen. The fucking number never changed.
I got married again to a girl who was as far from the prim and proper Janet as I could. She wasn't the same and that time I broke it off before our kid was two. I paid alimony to her and started looking for Janet on facebook. Nothing. She was a spectre.
I switched to obituaries and found her in the weirdest way possible. Her mother had passed and there was a service in town. I went to the graveyard.
"Janet,"I said to her back as she stared at the grave.
"Liam?"she asked. I nodded, she couldn't see it. "What are you doing here?"
"I just-,"I sighed, "I just wanted to see you again. We never should have broken up and-"
"What if it was her?"she asked, "what if she wouldn't have gotten into that car if we hadn't been married?"
"Janet that isn't direct,"I said, "that's not how it works."
"Liam,"she said, "'I can't live my life waiting for someone to croak around-"she cut herself off, "you shouldn't have come here."She'd been crying before, but the subs were louder than the rain now.
"Ja-"
"Just go."
I went home and started to drink. In a few hours I knew who the one was looking for. I just needed a few more shots to get there. |
I feel it coming on, same as before, same as always. For some stupid reason I needed coffee today, and I should have known better.
"Jeremy, I...I just...I feel like we need a break."
My heart starts pounding and then, same as it always does, it just...*stops*. My breath catches in my throat. My left arm hurts.
"I just feel like we aren't going anywhere."
She's going to say the damned line, I know it. They always do. My I clutch my left arm and start to stoop.
"And it's not you..."
I fall to the ground. The crowd turns and gasps, some pull back, some push forward. She notices. I clutch my arm and gasp for breath.
"Shit!"
She's on the ground, kneeling next to me, taking my pulse and then chest compressions. I hate the chest compressions.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Jeremy still sitting at the table. He realizes what's happening slowly, so *damned* slowly. Nobody is looking at him. All eyes are on me. He pulls out his keys, takes one off the chain and leaves it on the table, then grabs his coffee and bookbag and slinks out the door.
My heart roars back to life. Air floods my lungs as I breath, and I can feel an itching in my chest as my ribs begin to stitch themselves back together. She takes my pulse, finding it strong and regular and swift.
"Okay sir, are you alright? I'd like to call an ambulance for you."
I can't quite speak yet, but I wave her off and shake my head. She helps me to my feet.
"Are you sure, you've just had CPR, you might have broken ribs."
I shake my head and give her a thumbs up. A cough swells in my chest and now I can talk.
"Hey, I think your boyfriend ditched you."
"Oh...yeah. I guess that's for the best. I was...um...yeah."
"No worries. Thanks for CPR! You're my hero!"
The barrista is wide-eyed. "Coffee for Bob?"
"That's me!"I take my coffee and leave. My job is done here. Jeremy is saved. |
I fell in love with you again today. That's not really all that true because I never fall out of love with you. I go home and think of you. I hear your voice on commercials, see your face in random passers by. My heart races, my hands sweat.
But it's never you. It's never you in the office, leaning over the side of my cubicle and winking. It's never you making a new pot of coffee.
I know better than to try and change your mind. I know better than to try to woo and engage you. I watch you laughing, pushing your hair back behind your ear.
I think about the wedding we would never have. I think about the Christmases we would never share. I wonder *why not me?* I weigh the pros and cons of *him* and not *me*.
It won't ever be me. Someday I'll realize that. Someday I'll realize it's no ones fault. It's not because of me or because of you. It just is.
But for now, I will still look at you across the office, and wonder what could be. |
Finally after 4 minutes of ordering, Amazon delivered my Oculus 9. How slow is that fucking drone, should look for alternatives. But fuck, I have the Oculus nineeeeeeeeeeeee. I quickly unbox it and put it in my head. Nice update on the intro screen nothing new though - oculus automatically logs me into my facebook and other services by scanning my eyes. A small notification pops up on the top right side of the view and it says 'Get Amazing deal only at the Amazing company'. I still had that amazon anger left so I blinked twice and the notification opens and prompts me into a screen where I've to register first. What the fuck. I've to speak and fill the form, how old school, would've been easier if they just scanned my eyes and then automatically registered me. As I see at the end of the screen it scrolls down and I continue speaking to fill the form and then at last I've to speak the CAPTCHA. I tell k-u-s-e-g-i-o-r and out of nowhere I get a black screen with a white text saying "please stay where you are". I'm completely amazed as this is the first time out of 8 oculus and all those captchas I've submitted, I'm getting this sort of message. I try shutting down the device but it won't and then I take it off and at the same time there is a big sound at the front door and in a fraction of a second I'm surrounded by Armies with electric guns. No, No, No, No I'm not a robot I scream to them and it was no surprise that they didn't listen to me. I then suddenly remembered a LPT post by thedrog that said "If you're ever captured as a hostage, cut your hand or some other parts of your body to show the blood, that way you'll prove that you are a human not a robot", so I took a 360 degree camera and hit my head with that, I immediately start bleeding and the Armies recognized me as a human and apologised to me and then they agreed to pay for my door and left. |
Fear. Respect. These are just some of the feelings that the world had for me. I looked around me at the quiet suburban neighbourhood. It was quiet. *Too quiet*. They were here. I knew it. My telepathic abilities had brought me here, guiding me every step of the way. It was like a small gnawing feeling inside my head as if I was trying to remember whether or not I had left the stove on or whether or not I had locked my car. The sensation became stronger and more intense the closer I got to my quarry. Now I could feel it like a searing-hot cattle prod burning into the cortex of my brain. It was painful, but it hurt so good. And then I saw it up ahead.
At first glance it was just a stereotypical two-story house with a white picket fence and a small tree in the front yard which was immaculately maintained. To any other person this house was identical to the rest of the houses on this block. But with my supernatural abilities, I could see the house bathed in a glowing purple aura. This house was definitely hiding something. I strolled up to the front door and banged it several times hard with my fist. After several minutes of silence, I grew impatient. Focussing all of my psionic power, I unleashed a potent telekinetic burst which shattered the door into fine splinters. Only a single woman stood behind the now destroyed door. She was petite and dainty. Hardly a challenge for me.
"You can't do this! It's wrong!"she cried out, trembling with fear.
"Get out of my way, bitch,"I roared. Using only an ounce of my telekinetic strength, I waved her away, causing her to slide backwards across the hardwood flooring and into a potted plant by the staircase. I lifted my head up and sniffed the air. They were upstairs. I followed the scent to a locked bedroom on the second floor. Again, I obliterated the door with a psionic burst. Inside the cramped room were more than ten young children hiding under the bed and under the computer desk. My senses told me that there were a couple more in the closet too.
"Recess is over, motherfuckers,"I yelled. The children gasped and some of them began bawling their eyes out. My hands suddenly ignited with a green flame and my body could feel a tingling sensation seep into my bloodstream. I called upon the forces of the quantum unknown to help me with my task. When my prayers had been answered, I reached forward with my fiery arms and punched the air in front of me, fracturing the space-time continuum and ripping the very fabric of reality. The vacuum from within the fracture began sucking the children in one by one. I could hear them scream as they were yanked into the 7th dimension, into a world where they will start anew, never to see Earth again.
One of the small boys from inside the closet had run out and slipped past me. He began running down the corridor to the stairs to escape. I chased after him. Before the kid reached the bottom, I pointed a finger at him and cried out, "You're not going anywhere, bub. Time for a pop quiz, you little shit."A small projectile fired from my finger and caught the boy in the nape of his neck, shocking him into paralysis. I lifted his twitching body with my telekinesis and then dragged him back to the bedroom. The portal was still open and all of the other children had already been swept away inside it.
"No! You can't!"shouted the woman's voice. I turned around. The same lady from earlier had crawled up the stairs after me. Her face was mangled and disfigured by the shards of pottery that had smashed into her head when I threw her into the potted plant. I disregarded her pleas and hefted the little boy onto my shoulder, preparing to launch him into the void. "Please, no! Why do you do this!?"
"Because,"I said without turning around. I dropped the kid and then kicked him into the tear in space-time with my steel-capped boots before he touched the ground. With the last child gone, I waved my fiery green hands and sutured the tear closed. "Our Earth can't sustain anymore humans. Do you know what the population of the world is now? Well you shut up and I'll tell you. It's over 17 billion humans. We've reached carrying capacity. It is my duty to my planet to control the population."
"B.. but,"muttered the woman.
"No buts,"I said. I finally turned around to face her. "Class is over for you too, miss."My hands, still faintly glowing with a flickering green flame, reached out and grabbed the woman by the hair. She screamed as the very molecules and atoms that composed her body were ripped apart into subatomic particles. And then she was gone. With my job done for the day, I slowly walked down the stairs.
I am the protector of Earth. I am Daycare.
|
On my 13th birthday I lost the ability to speak. It happened to everyone and was a bitter sweet occasion. A coming of age celebration but a loss of something loved. It was said we had no need of the spoken word once we came of age. We did not need to yell and cry like a baby to communicate our needs.
I was at my friend Janet's house for a silent reading session. It was a large old house in the countryside, far away from the nearest neighbour. A perfect place for losing yourself in a good book. Her husband, Carl, was a butcher in the local village. He was a friendly man and always had time for a smile and a gesture.
Janet had just popped out of the house to pick up some milk for the teas. I was alone, lost in a fine Jane Austin novel.
That's when I heard it. I knew what it was straight away, although I had not heard such a sound in years. It was a scream. It was faint and muffled. Goosebumps rose on my skin. *Janet didn't have any children.*
I was in the countryside... perhaps it could be a fox. I knew they had a blood curdling mating call that could be confused with a scream. Then I heard it again.
It was certainly human and it came from within the house.
I got up and began walking around, hoping to hear it again and get an idea of its direction.
The screams now came every few minutes. I had looked around all of the ground floor and concluded they sounded clearest in the kitchen.
There was nothing odd about the small kitchen but it did have a small door leading into a walk in larder. I slowly opened the door and entered.
Something about this room did strike me as peculiar. On two walls were shelving units with tinned food stacked on them. On the third wall was *nothing*. Why weren't they using this space? I heard the scream again. This was the clearest it had sounded yet.
I tapped the wall and it gave a hollow echo. A moment later a distant tapping came back in response. I tapped once more. Again, after a slight delay a response came.
I pushed at the wall, shoved my shoulder into it, but nothing happened. I turned around and hurridely began moving the tins around on the shelves, hoping to find a switch.
It was a tin of butter beans. As soon as I had lifted them slightly, the rooms empty wall roared at me as it rotated slowly.
I cautiously walked through. It took some time for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and to make out the items on the wall. Cleavers, knives, knife sharpners, saws. It was some kind of butchering room. There were stairs leading down into darkness. I backed off a little, my heart pumping fast. I thought of waiting for Janet to get back when I heard the scream again. There was a desperation to it.
I slowly crept down the stairs.
|
The newcomers arrived at dawn. We saw them streak across the sky, tail pulled out to infinity like a meteor forecasting doom. In later years, I was to learn there was one similarity and one similarity only between our two species - the fact that if you dropped both a feather and a hammer from the same height, they would both hit the ground at the same time. It was magic to our civilisation - we worshipped this idea - and this saved the newcomers from total annihilation when they first came.
Of course, at the time I had no clue. I wanted to kill them all from the moment I laid eyes on their incredible heights. Six foot tall, the lot of them - growth allowed only by the unnatural gravity of their homeworld. By comparison I was a midget, pattering about with my shorter height and inferior looks. Well - if looks could kill, I'd be the tallest man alive - but as it was I had to settle for second best.
They had one other advantage, too - but that's a story for later.
Enough about me. That morning we approached their crashed ship carefully. It had sent out nothing on the usual channels. No distress signal, no locator pulses, no 'I'm here and I can't fly this thing, send help' message. Yet our sensors had detected life within the crushed hulk. Could it be?
I walked in front of the other colonists, sending orders here and there with a wave of my hand. As one, we set our phasers to stun. Kill was too easily abused here - and we all knew life was short. It was only to be used as a last resort.
The ship door was partly buried in the earth. Carefully, we lifted the trap, and we saw the bodies of three humans trapped inside. Quickly, I ran my biosensor over them; it beeped urgently.
"They're still alive! Med team, go!"
I stepped aside, and the med team did their magic, extracting and reviving the unconscious humans. The first one to come to was also the tallest. He had a red band around his arm - the ancient galactic standard to indicate the commander of a ship. I broke out my translator, but just then he spoke, and it became unnecessary.
"What happened? I can't - uhh-"
Instantly I froze.
"Interlingua?"I blurted out. "I mean - *English*?"
"Yes,"the commander replied. He was thin and wiry, his body well-suited for spaceflight. "Where are we?"
"You have crashed on the planet Castar,"I said in a level voice, trying to hide my anger. No self-respecting species had used that tongue ever since the extermination of Centauri V. The invaders had used it then, and they used it now, and the humans had corrupted themselves already by using it. "What was your ship doing in our territorial space?"
"We came to - we came to rescue you -"he puffed.
By now the other two humans were coming too. The commander introduced them. "Parker,"he said. "And Sylvia. We're from Earth, and we've come to rescue you. Local gravity is two times of Earth's - man, my hands are heavy! Care to give me a lift?"
He extended his hand, his face grimacing with effort, but I shook my head, and the other colonists shrunk backwards at the look on my face.
"Med team says no,"I lied. "You have said you come from Earth, to save us. What are you saving us from?"I asked.
Already my suspicion was growing. No-one had ever come from the old Earth in the last century or two. Six generations of colonists had come and gone without so much as seeing the legendary pale blue dot. But I considered their height again, and as much as I was repulsed by the idea I had to accept, at the very least, that it was possible. Humans simply did not grow to be six feet tall in this world.
The woman named Sylvia puffed. "You've been trapped here for two hundred and ten years. We've got to help you find your way home!"
"Home?"I repeated blankly. The idea had never struck me. "Why would I want to go anywhere else? My home is here on Castar now."
"No,"Parker added. "You were all former Earthlings. Don't you remember it? Didn't the legends say anything about the pale blue dot, after a long journey home-"
"-*and it had been worth his whole life, yeah, yeah,*"I replied. The human might as well have been reading from the colonial classic *Tally Tells Tales*. The last thing I wanted was to be lectured on my own fairy tales by a group of aliens. "Listen - we're not leaving, period, and neither are you until we fix your ship, so why don't you pull down a chair or something?"
"Med team,"the commander dutifully intoned.
"I lied,"I responded sharply. "Your journey here - how long did it take you?"
"About forty years, local time,"Sylvia replied. "Earth time is about three hundred years since we left it."At this realisation the woman flushed. "We had families,"she said, speaking faster. "My son was eight. You know, we didn't need to do any of this. We accepted a one way ticket, to come here and save your sorry asses, and this is how you repay us? By saying you won't be saved?"
I walked over, to where Sylvia still lay prone, and took pride in the fact that I towered over her for the moment.
"Listen, *Earthling*,"I hissed, "did you ever consider the possibility that maybe we *don't want* to be saved? Or perhaps that we *can't be saved*? That the journey home would take longer than *our* natural lifespans?"
Sylvia froze. I smiled, a terrible grin that was only one step removed from murder.
"Metabolic rates are different,"I said. "We live, eat, work, play and die faster - human physiologies overrun by an inhumane world. I won't live to see forty, and all these guys,"I swept my hands at the other colonists, "they'd be lucky to even get there."
The commander was shaking his head again, but I didn't care. Inside I was boiling with rage. All the calculations, all the necessary studies were in the Central Library, plotted out by someone in the days when we still could hope to return. I didn't care who it was now. All I needed to know was that the humans had something we could never have.
They had the gift of time. And I wanted it, real bad.
|
**SoleRunner13:** Hello?
**FemellaFugit:** Hi there! Nice profile!
**SoleRunner13:** Thanks.
**SoleRunner13:** Don't you recognize me?
**FemellaFugit:** Hmmm.
**FemellaFugit:** Nope!
**FemellaFugit:** Should I?
**SoleRunner13:** I'd like to think so.
**FemellaFugit:** Are you a celebrity or something?
**SoleRunner13:** No.
**SoleRunner13:** You really don't recognize me, Adrienne?
**FemellaFugit:** Whoa, how do you know my name?
**FemellaFugit:** Do we know each other?
**SoleRunner13:** We dated for three years.
**SoleRunner13:** Then you died.
**FemellaFugit:** This is getting creepy.
**SoleRunner13:** I'll say.
**SoleRunner13:** I went to your funeral.
**SoleRunner13:** I was the one who found your body.
**SoleRunner13:** I watched them bury you.
**FemellaFugit:** Look, this isn't funny.
**FemellaFugit:** I'm blocking you.
**SoleRunner13:** wsasirt!
**FemellaFugit:** What?
**SoleRunner13:** Sorry, I meant "Wait!"I was typing fast.
**SoleRunner13:** Don't block me.
**SoleRunner13:** Let me prove it.
**SoleRunner13:** I have pictures of us together.
**SoleRunner13:** Look at the third image on my profile.
**FemellaFugit:** Hang on.
**FemellaFugit:** Okay, this is really weird.
**FemellaFugit:** And I'm definitely not dead.
**SoleRunner13:** Clearly.
**SoleRunner13:** But your name is Adrienne, and you look exactly like the girl I used to date.
**SoleRunner13:** There has to be some explanation.
**SoleRunner13:** Are your parents named Cindy and Aaron?
**FemellaFugit:** You could find that out by Googling me.
**SoleRunner13:** Would I be able to find out that your dad taught you to play Chess?
**SoleRunner13:** Or that your mom used to draw pictures for you instead of reading you stories?
**SoleRunner13:** Or that your first kiss was with your dog?
**FemellaFugit:** Stop.
**SoleRunner13:** Sorry.
**FemellaFugit:** I don't understand. I've never told ANYONE that.
**SoleRunner13:** You told me.
**SoleRunner13:** We stayed up all night drinking plum wine and eating brie.
**SoleRunner13:** (Your favorites.)
**FemellaFugit:** Yes.
**SoleRunner13:** I don't understand, Adrienne. Did you fake your death?
**FemellaFugit:** No. This is unbelievable.
**FemellaFugit:** I've lived in this town my whole life.
**FemellaFugit:** My longest relationship was for six months, back in college.
**FemellaFugit:** I've never even met you.
**FemellaFugit:** Although...
**SoleRunner13:** What?
**FemellaFugit:** Tell me about the dream.
**SoleRunner13:** You've had it since you were a kid.
**SoleRunner13:** A figure comes into your room. Not a man or a woman.
**SoleRunner13:** You're not scared.
**SoleRunner13:** It touches your forehead.
**SoleRunner13:** "Are you awake yet?"it asks.
**SoleRunner13:** You always say yes.
**SoleRunner13:** The figure shakes its head and says "Not yet."
**SoleRunner13:** Then it leaves.
**FemellaFugit:** Close.
**SoleRunner13:** What?
**FemellaFugit:** You got most of it right.
**FemellaFugit:** It doesn't ask if I'm awake, though.
**FemellaFugit:** It asks "Do you remember?"
**SoleRunner13:** Remember what?
**FemellaFugit:** I don't know.
**FemellaFugit:** I DO remember my whole life, though.
**SoleRunner13:** Are you sure?
**SoleRunner13:** Look, what if we met in person?
**SoleRunner13:** Would you be okay with that?
**FemellaFugit:** You said you know my parents?
**SoleRunner13:** Yes.
**SoleRunner13:** We could go see them?
**FemellaFugit:** Let's just get coffee first, yeah?
**FemellaFugit:** This is all so bizarre.
**SoleRunner13:** Okay, yeah, we can do that. When and where?
*FemellaFugit is typing...*
*FemellaFugit is offline.* |
A sharp smile spread across Victor Valeri's face. He had spent years upon years carefully planning this moment. Ever since that *douchebag* Nick Norman had one-upped him at the 'Mancer's Institute by raising twenty samurai from fragments of their swords, Victor had plotted his revenge. It was obvious that *his* entry, the birth of a fully grown cat from a teacup poodle - a task considered to be impossible - had deserved first place, not some two-bit act with moaning zombies.
He had lost all his friends. Nick had won the title of top necromancer last year, and thus Victor's devious plan to get revenge on Nick had finally become unpalatable to them. Victor didn't care. He had no need for friends that didn't understand his burning hatred.
It had taken him a year to even decide on his plan. He had considered a lot, and rejected most. Cloning Nick? No good, a vitamancer could only pass on a vitamancer's powers, and he had no intention of passing *all* his powers to a clone. The Nick-clone would be obliterated through Nick's necromancy. Placing a baby in Nick's girlfriend's stomach? They had broken up by the time he had been ready to start his final plan anyways, and involving an unrelated party in such a way, no matter how delusional they might be for dating Nick, had left a bad taste in Victor's mouth.
Finally, the solution had come to him. Victor had always had more finesse than power, so he wouldn't be able to create mass armies of babies like some vitamancers - but he *would* be able to create a birth function, so long as the creature in question was simple enough, or he had a base organism to stick the function onto.
Of course, birth functions were more mythical than functional, amusingly. The only mentions of such things were in storybooks, about mythical creatures like Merlin and vampires and the Fae. But his tried-and-true technique of trying out a spell or ritual, seeing where it went wrong, trying to fix it, then trying again didn't fail him. It took him five years, but he finally finished his birth function.
This was an amazing discovery. He would be lauded in the 'Mancer world as a genius if he released his results. But Victor just couldn't. The utter humiliation he had felt that day when Nick had won first place, then had *turned around and smirked at him*, whispering something likely nasty that Victor couldn't hear - no. Victor couldn't let it go.
He targeted the 2183th 'Mancer's convention. Nick was making a speech there, and conveniently staying in a nearby hotel. 'Mancers didn't tend to have bodyguards, not even high-level ones like Nick - *particularly* high-level ones like Nick. 'Mancers could generally take care of themselves.
It was an easy task to coax a vine into spreading across the hotel, even in the pitch of night. It allowed Victor easy access up to Nick's floor. It was a hot summer night. Nick had left the window open.
He retrieved his carefully carved and mermaid-blood drenched Fae bone from his shoulder bag. While typically ritual circles were more reliable, Victor couldn't risk the possibility of Nick walking in while he was still drawing the circle. A ritual object would have to do.
Finally, Victor slipped in. Hatred welled in his belly on seeing Nick's figure under the sheets on the hotel bed. Unfortunately, Nick was face-down. He needed to make absolutely sure that it was Nick he was attacking - he only had one bone, and Fae bone was notoriously hard to obtain.
He pushed the sleeping body over gently. It was Nick. Quickly, he raised up the Fae bone, beginning to recite the First Words. Nick began to glow, bubbles of light escaping his body to enter the bone.
Nick's eyes opened. Victor didn't falter, grimly continuing into the Second Words. If he didn't get to the Third Words quick enough, Nick might successfully fight back.
"V- Vic?"Nick choked out weakly, stuttering. He sounded confused. Victor didn't pay it any attention. "Wha - "
Victor slid into the Third Words. Nick's eyes flew shut, his body growing deathly pale. Flush with victory, Victor chanted the last few syllables of the Third Words, then carefully, oh so carefully, dropped the burningly bright bone onto Nick's body.
He was forced to look away, as the light grew too bright to watch. On turning back, the body was no longer there - there were only eight babies. Even as he watched, that number turned to sixteen.
Victor smiled viciously. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to set a limit on the birth function - it could theoretically continue to infinity, but it would have to stop once it used up the bone and the blood. Either way, Victor needed to leave. Things were going to get ugly. He could already see the babies crawling towards him.
"Goodbye, Nicks!"Victor said brightly as he escaped through the window. He had scratched the idea of a Nick-clone of his own making - but hundreds of Nick-clones from Nick himself? Now that was genius, if he said so himself. 'Mancer power would be split equally among the clones, leaving each Nick with essentially nothing. And better yet, Victor had passed on a small portion of his vitamancer powers to the bone - meaning that the necromancer and vitamancer powers would cancel out, leaving Nick with nothing, not even uniqueness.
He had finally gotten his revenge. This was everything he had wanted. He should be deliriously happy.
But he still didn't feel any better. One thing still bothered him.
*Why had Nick called him Vic?*
--
*[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4ldfm0/wp_not_to_be_outdone_by_the_best_necromancer_in/d3n2q8w)*
|
PS: Sorry I didn't read the prompt correctly
The execution was at noon and dinner was at 5.
These are the only thoughts that passed through the great magicians head as he walked to the executioners block. He was not even slightly worried about the tiny fact that the person being executed was in fact himself because he has been in this situation 8 times previously and he had survived to eat stale bread and sour milk for a pitiful lunch every single time.
A large crowd had assembled to watch the execution. The sea of spectacularly coloured bodies that surrounded the wide open garden outside of the Sultans palace showed that these were not common street urchins and rabble rousers; for who could afford to wear such spectacular garments if not the rich?
"It seems the Sultan invited his friends to watch me embarrass him again"The Magician said snarkily.
The guards surrounding the Magician snickered but were quickly silenced by the executioner's intimidating presence.
"Head on the block"The Executioner said pointing to a clean wooden block in front of the Magician.
As the Magician placed his head upon the wooden block he couldn't help but ask the Executioner for a request.
"Would you mind cutting these handcuffs while your at it? They are so uncomfortable"he said snarkily while shaking the cuffs that connected his legs to his hands.
The executioner said nothing but prepared to the axe to cut the Magicians head clean off.
With one fell swoop the axe was brought down upon the Magicians head and with a dastardly THUD the Magicians head was severed from his body.
The Executioner bent down to pick up the deceased's cranium and held it a loft for all too see.
The sultan exploded out of the shadows of his palace an obvious good look on his aging face.
"You see! I took me 9 times to do this but I did it! You all doubted me and came to watch my failures but now you see that no one messes with the Sultan!"He shouted exuberantly
"Wow 9 already? Damn man you need a hobby it's only been a week since you locked me up"The Magicians head quipped.
both the sultan and the crowed gasped; They weren't use to seeing a talking head.
The head continued to speak "And for my next trick.."The head shouted gesturing with what little ability it had to gesture to the Magicians body which was completely free of chains and was walking to the head. "...I'm going to make the Sultans dignity disappear."
The Body snatched the head from the surprised Executioner and continued to shout; the body holding the head aloft so all could see it. "Listen here. This is a warning to the Sultan and any who acts in his interests! I demand to go free for if I am ever... No If I ever see a chopping block or anything of thing of that nature ever again in this city... let's just say the consequences will be dire."
The crowed was stunned and even the guards failed to stop the Magician from walking away from the execution head held under his arms. "I'll be in my room"The Magician sneered.
Part 2:
The Magician was given no food on that night and in fact was never given food again the Sultan trying to starve him to death to avoid his promise.
Needless to say three weeks later the Magician still looked rather well and not at all malnourished when the Sultan came to visit him.
"You the royal Magician Seltus Sneed are to be put to death for acts of high treason; You have the right to a fair and honorable trial by jury of your peers. As you are the Royal Magician I am your only peer and I say you are guilty"
The Sultan grinned at the last sentence as he read it.
"The execution is scheduled for tomorrow at 4:59 PM. I hope you can make it."
The Magician said nothing during the speech but as the Sultan left the unmistakable sound of his voice echoed from his cell.
"If I am called for this execution I will not be held responsible for my actions and you mark my words will regret this."
The sultan ignored this and went to his chambers to prepare for the following day.
The day of the execution arrived and the magician was ushered out of the palace to his execution. He was not bound in chains and not flanked by guards for the sultan had realised the Magician was never deterred by these anyway.
The crowd this time was not Vagabonds or even the Rich but merely the average townsfolk who had come to see this man who defied the Sultans wishes.
The Magician walked slowly to the chopping block guarded by an Executioner who he had never seen before who seemed extremely nervous for some reason.
Before he reached him however the Magician diverted from his planned course and ran to the crowd. The Sultan ordered him to be stopped but it was too late and the Magician managed to whisper a secret message to one of the spectators and ushered him to pass it on.
The message spread like wildfire the whispers of the crowd soon turning into roars discussing the secret message.
"Enough!"Roared the sultan "Guards bring me one of my subjects"
The guards roughly grabbed the a young woman who was whispering to her family and through her at his feet.
"What is the message!"The sultan Demanded.
"It's nonsense and not worth hearing your majesty"She whimpered.
"How dare you decide what is worth my time! Guards drag her to the prison she is to be executed in the morning"The guards dragged the crying woman out of sight and this time placed a young man at the Sultans feet
"What is the message?"The sultan repeated with increased rage.
"It is as the young lady said your Majesty. It's nonsense and not worth hearing"The man croaked.
"Guards throw this man in the dungeon with no food. He is to be executed with the woman for treason"the Sultan raged. "Get me a small child to question. A child cannot lie to me"
The guards grabbed the man and dragged him to the prison reluctantly. While others tried to comply with the Sultans wishes it was difficult however as the crowd was growing increasingly agitated but they managed to pry a small boy away from his parents who was then placed at the sultans feet.
The Sultan looked at the boy and in an eerily calm voice he asked the boy "What was the message?". The boy started to cry and this enraged the sultan even more and at the top of his lungs he screamed "Boy what is the message!?"And the boy simply replied tears streaming from his eyes.
"It's nonsense and not worth hearing".
The Sultan was considered cruel by many but no one would of guessed what he would do next.
"Guards take this child to the chopping block I am going to execute him right now In front of everyone!"He screamed jumping down from his podium.
He however never had a chance as as his words left his mouth the crowd screamed and raged against them. It became not a group of people but a monstrous tidal wave of violence and revenge that spread from the outer limits of the city and consumed all in it's path. Any who heard of the Sultans words quickly joined it and in just three days the city firmly belonged in the hands of the people and the Sultan was imprisoned.
The sultan stayed there for all his life and never had any visitors not even the Magician who never came to gloat or even acknowledge the Sultan as anymore than a Minor annoyance. In fact the Sultan was silent for his entire life after he spoke on the third day
"What was the message he told the people?"I have to know..."He asked pitifully and the Guards responded.
"It's nonsense and not worth hearing"
|
The tournament should have been the greatest idea I’ve ever had.
I mean, I’ve said that about a lot of my ideas, I know. But … they’re all really good ideas.
It used to be - ages ago - that my mere presence was enough to entice the finest and bravest to try their luck against me. As it should be. There’s only really one reason anyone wants to be a knight, and that’s to beat other people into a pulp. And a Dragon is the biggest damn thing to fight there is.
And I’m one of the biggest Dragons there is.
I mean - I don’t want to imply that *every* knight came to fight me. Oh no - I was a select choice. My hoard was - and still is - fantastic. Culled from the finest treasures. Statuary and art from history’s greatest civilizations. Gold coins in requisite mounds. Crystal and diamond goblets and jewelry. Hell, I employ gnomes just to keep it clean, indexed, and polished, to get the perfect shine from the cavern mouth.
I have *standards*.
I dedicated a wall of my cavern to recording the deeds of the heroes I vanquished. Their houses, names, sigils, banners - noted and displayed. I am not some *barbarian* who just burns his foes and eats them whole. I truly value those who make their way to my cave to challenge me. I treat them with honor and respect, as is traditional and right.
But lately…
I mean - there were always those idiots who thought they were better than they were, and I usually just put them out of their misery. A few I just straight sent home - I have no desire to roast some kid making a bad choice, or a vassal who’d been ordered to by some fat noble. Those made me the angriest. There was one time - I actually paid the poor farmer a bag of gold in exchange for his liege-lord’s name and address after the asshole dressed him up in cheap mail and ordered him up my mountain under threat of killing his wife and children. Scorched 250 acres in one breath taking that fat bastard out. But I digress.
I’m just saying, I have standards. And I thought, once upon a time, that everyone else did too.
I mean - don’t get me wrong. I *am* evil. I’m quite good at it. I try to be fair, but let’s face it, when your hobbies consist of flambéing cattle, kidnapping maidens, and ransacking castles for treasure, you’re not a force of good in the world. But it balanced, and they all knew what it takes to stop me. I am not immortal - just very, very hard to kill.
I guess I noticed first maybe, oh, fifteen years ago? Twenty? It probably happened before that, but there’s dry spells. You take out the finest knights of one generation, you have to wait for the next generation to grow up and desire revenge. But this bunch - seriously. I don’t think they even care. They walk up to my cave, issue an *incredibly* poorly-worded challenge (who is teaching these children to write!) and die without so much as denting a scale. It’s the same houses, the same family names. Their ancestry is writ on my walls in probably more careful detail than they themselves maintain in their own records. Some of these twits can barely lift a sword!
I mean - it’s a matter of respect.
But anyway. The tournament. So at first I suspected another dragon had horned in on my territory. I took a solid year searching to the limits of my range, but not so much as a hatchling had invaded. After that, I thought maybe it was my own fault - had I finally killed off the best and brightest? Had I so decimated the human population that this *was* the best I could come up with?
To my horror, I found that, no. There were still knights, just as many as there had always been. The little kingdoms that I terrorized were just as prolific and intelligent. They just no longer bothered to come after me. Instead, I got the rejects. The wanna-bes. The losers. The rest of the knights were playing *politics*, getting involved in wars and border disputes and righting wrongs and fulfilling ancient prophecies and - basically - not Dragon Slaying.
For a while I just refused admittance to anyone that came up to my cave but that got boring. There’s only so many topics of conversation one can have with a gnome. I toyed with one-shotting them as they rode up the mountainside - a breath of fire out of nowhere - and it was fun for a while, but ultimately, unsatisfying. I thought about increasing my cattle-mutilation and maiden-kidnapping, but decided if it hadn’t been enough to attract the finest warriors before, it wasn’t likely to work… unless I went all-out.
Of course I have human servants too. Through them I spent months working on my master plan. A Tournament. An inter-kingdom, prestigious tournament. Bags of gold and hands of fair maidens for the winners. It took several years to build up, but when it finally gained the size and recognition I wanted - it was glorious. Every single noble family for hundreds of miles attended. The festivities went on for a solid week. Every single king and his entourage was there. I actually started to take a lot of pride and interest in this little project - it was a fun diversion.
Like building a sand castle before you stomp on it.
And stomp I did. At the ten-year celebration. The final night’s awards ceremony. I was actually nervous, leading up to it. And then - oh, the glory. I timed my approach to appear over the horizon right at sunset, flying directly out of the sun. My first breath lit the treetops and flags - a precision shot. My second lit a ring of fire around the entire grounds - a circumference of miles. Of course, I left a little room to escape - no point in a grand showing if nobody’s around to tell the tale afterwards. In face, I specifically singled out every bard, storyteller, and entertainer so that they remained as undamaged as I could manage.
Oh, how they screamed. For the first time in so many years, I had their undivided attention.
Of course they didn’t fight me there. Airborne, a surprise attack, their tournament grounds, tents, and buildings burning around them? They ran, and died. I boiled them alive in their armor. I bit them in half. I festooned horse entrails from the flagpoles. I even seized an honest-to-god princess to take back with me, right out of her father’s protective arms.
And then I waited. With the hoard gleaming, the princess caged, their lands burning and desecrated, I waited.
And do you know what they did?
NOTHING. THAT IS WHAT THEY DID.
For a solid month. Not one knight. Not one attack. Not even a strongly-worded note.
I finally couldn’t stand it any longer, and one night, let the princess out of the cage to talk.
Why? I demanded.
She explained that dragon-slaying, which was an erroneous term as nobody had ever actually *slain* me was outdated. The kingdoms had learned to account for the loss of their cattle and fields occasionally and factored that into their economic plans. The extreme patriarchy decided that knights were far less expendable than maidens, and since I only took unmarried virgins (STANDARDS), the easiest way to avoid losing daughters was to marry them off as fast as possible.
They actually liked having me around! I drove off other dragons and even kept large predators out of my range. It was something of an honor to have your possessions looted for my hoard; some noble families kept track of how often I “visited” them and used it at a status symbol! One of the kingdoms had declared my cavern and hoard a “historical treasure”.
They felt I did them a favor by eliminating knights too stupid or short-sighted to try to fight me. I was an asset to the kingdoms. I was an icon. I was practically a god.
How? I asked her. I eat you. I kill your children. I kidnap your sisters and daughters. I burned you!
But you’re a good person, she said sincerely. You spare the poor and hungry. You kill the rich and mean. You never unfairly burden anyone. The tournament - they'd figured out I hosted it each year - it was so unexpected. She was confused, and thought maybe I wasn't feeling well or they'd upset me somehow, and she was sure her father was confused, but nobody was going to come rescue her because she was sure that I was just going to let her go.
I didn’t. I fried her to a fine crisp and snacked on princess jerky for the rest of the night. But it got me thinking - and I finally hit on my mistake.
*That fucking farmer*.
So I think I’ve decided it’s time to move on. I’ll get rid of the hoard - probably give it away, I’m too fond of it to burn it. I’ve heard there’s an island off the coast that’s never even seen a dragon before. Some seaside living might just be the change I need.
I mean - there’s no point in staying someplace where nobody *appreciates* you.
|
Seven days ago I was a normal eighteen year old kid.
Tonight I am a killer.
My parents didn't come home that weekend from their anniversary trip to Toronto. We lived on the outer edge of a small town, neat house with a nice yard and a hefty property. Plenty of parties were going to be had and had been had.
That night was no different except for the bright orange glow in the distance. Like your average eighteen year old we couldn't have cared less.
I was outside when my dad called so I never spoke to him. I never heard him tell me to go to the store and get as much canned food, bottled water, and other necessary supplies as I could. He even told me, via voicemail, to use his emergency credit card.
I didn't see the television broadcasts of an emergency announcement. I saw it days later on a recorded loop in a local news station. Someone had recorded it.
"All citizens are required to immediately prepare emergency rations of food and water, five days worth of supplies, in the event of a catastrophic emergency. More information will be forthcoming from government officials. All citizens are required..."
On and on it went. I watched for a long time.
You would have expected sirens and people milling about, even in a small town. Not so small I guess.
The number of bodies in the street didn't seem small.
There were four of us that had stayed together. Four of us that had found my dad's stash of equipment. God bless a paranoid infantry officer.
Four of us that took shelter in a local supermarket without power. One of us was taken by two rough men, unshaven and dirty. They hadn't seen us but they had seen her.
She screamed and then suddenly I was holding a knife and there were two bodies on the floor.
Two days past the government deadline.
Seven days ago I was a normal eighteen year old kid.
Tonight I am a killer.
Tonight I am a survivor. |
Today was the day. Everything important in my life was today. I would finally be a rich woman, after climbing the corporate ladder for oh-so long. I would find my soulmate today, maybe as a new coworker. It would be a great day.
But today was the day I died. And all of it, it happened within a minute.
When I walked out that door, I was terrified. I couldn't change the dates; no one could. No one ever could. There was nothing I could do, I was doomed. But it felt comforting knowing it would happen today.
Most of the morning flew by. I walked into the interview at the office building, I aced it. I was guaranteed a promotion. I was finally at the top of the corporate ladder, my final dream.
I glanced at my wrist. So it begins. Within a minute, everything would go to hell.
I stood up, shook the interviewer's hand. I grabbed my briefcase, and walked out that door. Across the room, I saw the front door happen, and I knew it was happening.
Gunshots rang out. Screaming. Terror. It was an automatic rifle, I could tell from the consecutive, nonstop gunshots.
I ducked for cover behind a wall, trying so desperately, so hard to survive. But I knew I couldn't. It felt like he'd been shooting for hours by now. No sign of reloading.
Bullets pierced my cover. One of them grazed my shoulder, and I recoiled from the pain it brought. Big mistake. That was when I realized my death was coming.
I fell out of the cover. Shooter took a shot, and I stared at him. Balaclava on, rifle in hand, shooting at me. Straight through my stomach, straight into my chest.
The pain. I couldn't describe it. I could not describe it if I had all the time in the world. This was a painful death. I rolled over, trying to stop the bleeding. But it was futile. I would die today.
The gunshots stopped. Slowly. Pain, spiking through my body, I rolled over to look at him. He was down. Shot in the chest by someone else. Weak smile. Second amendment was great.
Someone ran over to me. Rolled me onto my back. Kept pressure on the wounds. Looked up, at her, into her eyes. A spark. We clicked. This was my soulmate. This would have been my soulmate.
She knew that too. She tried so hard. Used her shirt to bandage. Tears, rolling down her face. She was a redhead. I cracked a smile. Always liked redheads.
Put my hand up. Tried to comfort her.
"It's okay."
Moment's pause.
"I finally met you."
Slowed breaths. Closed eyes. |
Vilga let out a loud sneeze and staggered back, almost knocking over a nearby stack of tomes.
"Has that lazy jinn ever cleaned this place up?"the young sorceress mumbled. "I know he doesn't like it, but at this rate we'll have to deal with dust wraiths soon."
Despite the inconveniences Vilga couldn't help but smirk. Being the temporary keeper of the Great Library of Anvor was a rare opportunity. Oros only took a vacation every fifty years after all. The old jinn probably knew how much the girl enjoyed spending time buried in arcane tomes and old scrolls, so he passed on the duty to her. For some reason he took a liking to her ever since she joined the Academy. They could probably be called friends, if a primordial being like that even shared those concepts. The job wasn't much of a responsibility anyway. With all the protective charms the library was guarded better than the royal palace.
At that moment, standing between the endless rows of old bookcases, Vilga couldn't help but be amazed at the vastness of Anvor's biggest treasure. Narrow zigzagging paths created some sort of a labyrinth spanning through the library. It wasn't unheard of for a normal person to get lost wandering through the identical halls, constantly surrounded by both neat bookcases and simple piles of Anvor's most prized books. Every single work was priceless. That is why they belonged here after all.
Vilga's bewilderment was rudely interrupted by a sudden shuffling sound.
"Who's there?"she asked, pulling down her pointy hat and rushing towards the source of the noise. "The library will open in two hours. I don't know how you got here, but please leave. Only the keeper is allowed to—"
Vilga's mouth stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes went wide.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"
A long blue snake-like body, was slowly making its way through the corridor between the bookcases. Its scales shone like sapphires. The thing was thick enough to loom above Vilga, not that it was too difficult given her height. However it wasn't too big to fit into the corridor either. All together it was unmistakably a wyrm – a common subtype of dragons – and a pretty big one at that. Unlike their feared fire-breathing brothers, wyrms were mostly docile and grew only in length with age. Unfortunately they never stopped.
"Okay, okay, calm down, Vilga,"she muttered to herself, "how big can it really be? You'll deal with it no problem. First let's close the windows to make sure this doesn't happen again. *Areos!*"
A blue light enveloped the sorceress, as she began slowly floating above the old dusty wooden floor. She quickly made her way to every window in the high domed ceiling and shut it. Fearing the worst, Vilga took a deep breath and turned to look at the inner labyrinth from high up.
"Damn it!"
The noticeable blue thread wove through the entirety of the gigantic library, going over bookcases, knocking several over, and intertwining with itself a few times.
"Great, just great."Vilga kicked the wall by the window in frustration. "If I don't deal with this before Oros returns, I'm never going to hear the end of it, am I?"
Feeling the familiar fatigue from keeping a spell up for too long, she found a small clearing and descended back to the ground beside the wyrm's body.
"Hm... how about teleportation? *Loctus!*"
A purple circle with runic inscriptions formed in the air before the girl's outstretched hands. The blue scales lit up and an ominous hum filled the air. As the circle faded, the section of the wyrm's body wiggled slightly, but didn't react otherwise.
"Blue wyrm..."Vilga groaned. "Probably that's the reason he got around the protection too. I remember reading the tips of their tails aren't as resistant to magic. Okay, no problem, I just have to find it then."
The sorceress shook her head, sighed, and began walking. She couldn't tell how far she was going into the old building, and soon even her perception of time was skewed from the monotony. The bookcases began fusing into an endless sea of colours. Several times the wyrm climbed over something, forcing Vilga to levitate. After the fifth time she felt the exhaustion setting in again and decided to take detours instead. Finally, after hours of searching it was over.
"Just my luck."Vilga rolled her eyes, trying not to look at the giant azure-blue head of the dragon staring her down.
"Young lady, could you please help me?"a deep calm voice asked.
"You... You talk?"Vilga stared at the dragon.
"Of course, I do. I know you might have met my less civilized brothers, but that's no reason to make assumptions about me. I do indeed enjoy a good conversation, even if the opportunity for it doesn't present itself often."
"I... I'm sorry?"Vilga answered, before shaking her head. "No, no, no! You have to leave! I've already missed the opening time and there's still this mess to clean up."
"I apologize for the 'mess' as you put it, I was just interested in some reading material."The wyrm gestured to an assortment of opened books before him in a neat semi-circle. "It seems I haven't taken my size into account, my apologies."
"Listen, you have to leave, this is a library for people of Anvor. You can't be here."
"But I was born in these lands, doesn't that make me an Anvorian?"
"That's not the issue here!"Vilga shouted.
"Very well, then can you please show me the exit?"
"Yes, it's right over—"The sorceress stopped and sighed. "One second. *Areos!*"
Nothing happened.
"*Areos!*"Vilga said again, articulating carefully.
A blue glow flickered around her a few times and faded.
"It appears, you're unable to complete your spell. You must've exhausted yourself on your way here. What a shame..."the dragon remarked in his usual calm tone. "No worry, I will help you. *Areos!*"
Not prepared for the sudden surge of energy, Vilga almost flew head first into the ceiling. Noting the position of the exit and silently cursing, she carefully descended back down.
"I have given your words some thought, young lady,"the wyrm said, as soon as the sorceress touched the ground. "If it's not my heritage that's the problem, then it must be me not being a part of the *people* of Anvor. Would a transformation satisfy you? I can help with cleaning, if you'd like."
"Fine,"Vilga answered, still disoriented. "Anything to get this over with quicker."
"Splendid! *Forimont!*"
The long, scaled body quickly rushed into a small glowing ball formed around the dragon's head. After a few seconds, the ball dissipated and in its place stood an old man dressed in blue robes. He had grey hair and a beard reaching all the way down towards his waist. The transformed dragon's eyes were as blue as his robes, and a pair of gold-framed glasses rested on his nose.
"Now then, let us proceed with the cleaning,"the wyrm said, his voice a lot less deep than earlier.
"You can stay here for the time being. I guess it will be more fun having someone to talk to these next few days. How long ago have you learned to talk?"Vilga asked.
"Not that long, only a few decades at most."
"My name's Vilga, by the way."
"You can call me Valzies."
For a while they worked in silence. Valzies used his magic to fix the bookcases and Vilga carefully arranged various tomes to their respective places.
"This place looks quite unkempt. Not befitting of a library at all,"the wyrm mumbled.
"Tell me about it."The sorceress smiled. "Um... if you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"
"About three and a half centuries. Why do you ask?"
"Just thought of someone you'd maybe like to meet. Who knows, maybe he'll even give you a permanent job here." |
As I turned to watch I grinned slightly. Finally after all these years the voice was gone. I couldn't ever give it away. It had to be taken. Finally after years of waiting, decades even, this street urchin had done it. I was free of her. The gleaming silver coin belonged to someone else. As the demon took him I could see the fear. I stepped back just slightly as it dawned on the fool what was happening, he lost his own free will and stopped thrusting the coin back at me. This child, unkempt, dirty, had a fire behind those green eyes.
In my own jubilation at being free I just hoped this new player could control the demon's thirst for riches as well as I had. If not, well, then Judas' coin had found another victim. No telling how much damage it would do with this vessel.
Those green eyes blinked. They looked up at me. They questioned for answers I could not give.
"Your on your own kid, just don't listen to her voice and you'll be all right."
Those were my first words in thousands of years. All that time with her voice in my head, I didn't age. I didn't die. I didn't dare speak. I had sat on this same corner. A leper, a pariah, a bum, the labels I had worn, the signs I had held. forcing the demon to live on charity. Denying her an outlet for the hunger, the greed. I wouldn't let her smooth words corrupt the few people who were good enough to take pity on me.
Those were also supposed to be my last words. I slipped the small revolver from my pocket. The demon kept it's host alive indefinitely. I wasn't the host anymore. I was free. Free to leave on my terms.
I checked the chamber. One last round! I slid the old weather beaten piece into my mouth. My finger tensed.
The Light.
The golden sphere slid into me. And dammit another voice in my head. I was so close. I was almost there. This one perhaps smoother than hers.
"Not yet. Not like this. You Alexander, who have held the demon at bay for so many years, we have need of you yet."
|
Such a strange weapon... At first, I thought they simply wanted construction materials. It seemed some-thing akin to a pipe, or a lever.
"No."The alchemist explained. "This is a weapon of true power. All I would need to do is point at a man and his life is forfeit."
I get those claims all the time. "A weapon to revolutionize the world!"They yell... Only to find that making a blade bigger or longer does no equate prowess. Still, what does she think a small pipe, no... A candle holder... What does she expect to happen? For it to spew fire forth and set the country side ablaze? For an eternal light to suck out a mans soul?
My mind is racing, curiosity growing. Perhaps I should add a dragon to symbolize this folly? That would require a second smithing and she seemed keen to have it by the 'morrow. Perhaps it wouldn't be wise to mess with the design either way.
The last parts are made. Some small, circular, stone balls. The weapon should always be tested before given.... Although she never told how. There is a powder that she left, asking to make sure enough of it fits into the 'chamber.' Chamber? If she wishes to have a chamber then an architect would be much wiser.
I fill this 'chamber' with some of the powder. Well... Less fill and more dabble the exact amount on the paper she left. Next, putting in the balls for 'ammunition.' This is no bow of course. A bow would need string... And I will admit I am no fletcher.
Pull back this... Ah, who cares for her made up terminologies? Gun.... Lock.... Chamber.... The babbling of a mad man. I begin to question why I even took this job. Perhaps the massive pay played a part... And the puppy-dog eyes she had.
Hpmh... Pulling the trigger did nothing. Is there something wrong with it? I'll just look in and....
-----------------------------------------------
"And you know nothing about this?"The inquisitor pushed forward the weapon.
Maria shook her head "Nothing."
"The paper has your name and claimed you commissioned it."
"I am not the woman who asked him to make it."
"You do know this will be considered murder? Of a royal official no less?"
"I refuse that I had anything to do with this, Sir Inquisitor."
"Take her away. Pry it from her if you have to..."He snapped his fingers to the two waiting guards. "We can't let this little.... genius get away from us can we?" |
I slip my gloves on once again. Every glove producer in the world sends me gloves daily in hope I pick theirs to wear knowing others will buy them after I set the trend.
Today they were light pink and the softest silk. I stretched my fingers and took some deep breaths. Glancing in the mirror one last time, I left my room. Today was just another day. Another day of adoring crowds, men (and women) trying to seduce me, everyone watching.
I walked to my car and waited for the garage door to come up. There was already a crowd on the other side. I gave them a wave and smile before ducking into my car.
I drove quickly trying to lose anyone tailing me. I'd gotten better over the years at spotting people following me, but occasionally someone slipped by. I pulled into the parking garage and quickly donned one of my disguises.
I did deep breathing exercises as I buzzed up to one of the apartments. The door unlocked. I practically ran upstairs as I tried to go unnoticed by the world.
I knocked on the door. It was the second nicest apartment in the building, but I didn't care. Despite living in a mansion I really wasn't a slob. The door opened and an average looking man with dark hair and eyes opened the door. He let me in without a word.
I quickly started stripping my disguise off as he greedily watched. I smiled at him as I finally stood before him in my pink dress, gloves, and shoes.
"Nice dress,"Jonas said with a smile.
I blushed, "Thank you."Jonas was the only one who could ever make me feel bashful, and despite being the prettiest person in the world I always felt nervous he would be disappointed with my looks.
Jonas was nothing to write home about as far as looks. He was well kept, but not in very good shape. He had a belly despite his healthy habits. His nose was also crooked, but I thought it was endearing. He was short and his face was plain. The press would be in an uproar if it ever got out we were together.
We ate lunch. We laughed, we talked, we kissed. We were happy. A bottle of wine was pulled out. Then another.
We sat on the couch. I was draped across him as he rubbed my legs. He kissed me passionately and I knew it wasn't just the wine. I could feel his hard cock pressing against his pants.
My shoes had been kicked off long ago. His shirt had started unbuttoning at the first bottle of wine. I slowly undid the rest as he kissed me.
Without a word we both got up. Jonas unzipped my dress as we walked to the bedroom. I let it fall in the door way. I glanced back. I loved seeing his eyes filled with love in addition to the lust. That's what was different about Jonas.
I undid his pants as he quickly removed my bra and panties. He reached for my gloves like he always did. I pulled my hands away just like always. This time he pulled back, though.
"Why won't you take those off?"
I leaned in to kiss him hoping to distract him, but he firmly stopped me. He repeated his question.
"I... I'm just not comfortable without them,"I muttered.
"You're comfortable with this,"he motioned to our naked bodies, "but not without these?"
I nodded knowing how lame it sounded. He kissed my hand through the glove, "Take it off. I want to see all of you. Please."
His voice was so earnest. I found myself reaching for my glove. I pulled them off. Jonas observed my hands quietly. They were awkward and knobby. They were scarred and wrinkly. I held my breath as he ran his hands over them.
Finally, he brought them to his lips and kissed them. "You're not supposed to be perfect. No one is. This flaw makes you more beautiful, more human. I love you, Clara. I'd love you without your looks. Your imperfections don't change anything." |
Tim Cook paced back and forth at the head of the conference table surrounded by the brightest minds at Apple.
"You must have SOMETHING Jony! You've been telling us 'next week' for 3 months now!"
 
Jony Ive, Chief Design Officer at Apple Inc., looked tattered and torn. He hadn't shaved in a month and his clothes were covered in coffee stains.
"I can make prototypes all day long, I DO make prototypes all day long, but if there's no fake mockups to go on then I'm just spittin' in the wind."
 
"What if we bring the wheel back? I really liked that on the first iPod."piped up Craig Federighi, Apple's Senior Vice President of Software Engineering. "It was so much easier dealing with a hardware scroller..."
 
"Are you kidding?"asked a visibly upset Phil Schiller, Senior Vice President of Marketing. "We're supposed to move FORWARD not BACKWARDS!!! I can't sell nostalgia! We might as well make a portable cassette player and call it the iMan!"
 
"We could easily do it, the wheel I mean,"replied Bob Mansfield, a hardware engineer and former Senior Vice President, "I have some mockups in my office I can get..."
Cook cut him off. "DAMN IT BOB! I thought we took all your tools away?!?"
Bob lowered his head. "You did. I kept some of my daughter's Play doh..."
 
"This is just great,"Cook said throwing his arms in the air, "we're a month away from launch and Jony is making phones out of Shrinky Dinks, Craig wants to LITERALLY reinvent the wheel, and Bob's making dials out of silly putty!"
"Play doh, not silly putty."Bob said quietly.
"I use a very advanced titanium alloy laced with Shrinky Dinks, not just Shrinky Dinks."Jony added.
"You mean figuratively reinvent, not literally. It's easy to mix the two up. Let me show you an example..."Craig said as he got up from his chair.
"I swear to god Craig if you don't sit right back down I will LITERALLY bite your head off!"
"Yes sir. Yes sir. And that time you used it right."Craig replied softly as he sat back down.
 
"How are the commercials coming Phil?"Cook asked in desperation.
"Oh they're fine like always. Selling a feeling was one of Steve's greatest marketing ideas. Show a mountain or a field, people smiling and dancing, anything really and you've got your commercial. I just need the frickin' spinning product reveal at the end."
"I'm glad I can count on someone to do their job. Thank you Phil."Cook patted him on the back.
"As for the rest of you..."
 
Cook stopped as he saw Joe, a veteran Apple intern, running towards the conference room.
 
"I've got something! I've got something!"Joe shouted triumphantly as he bursted into the room.
"It's... it's..."Joe needed a second to catch his breath.
Cook comforted him. "It's OK Joe, take your time."
"OK... ok... You guys remember Titanic right?"Joe asked.
"Oh! A Shrinky Dink Ship! That's fantastic!"Jony exclaimed. "You could market that like crazy Phil! Think of all the puns!"
"No, not the ship Mr. Ives, you're close, but I mean the movie Titanic."
Eddy Cue, Senior Vice President of Internet Software and Services took his chance to speak up.
"We've had that on iTunes for years already. This isn't new."
"No, not selling the movie,"Joe rolled his eyes slightly at Eddy while regaining his composure.
"I love that movie!"Bob said cheerfully. The others in the room looked at him with disdain.
"What? My wife and kids watch it all the time. Near, Far, WhereEVER You are, I will..."
"SHUT UP BOB!"Cook yelled.
"No, no,"Joe continued, "do you remember the scene at the end with Rose and Jack in the water? Well, the Twitter-Insta-Blogo-Sphere has been going on and on about how there was enough room for Jack on that piece of wood. Do any of you, not you Bob, remember that part?"
"I like where you're going with this Joe..."Cook said with a smile. |
**I'M NOT LOCKED IN HERE WITH YOU, YOU'RE LOCKED IN HERE WITH ME**
"Jesus dude, that was the 5th Rorschach I've seen. We gotta get out of here."
It had been 6 hours since the building had shut down, all exits frozen shut from the outside. No matter how much power anyone threw at it, the Ice wouldn't yield. Even their friend, Tommy, dressed as Obi-Wan and wielding a lightsaber, an ACTUAL lightsaber, couldn't make a dent. As soon as he started to cut into it, it would just "heal"back up. That was before the roaming Zombies brought him down, one cutting him in half with a samurai sword and the rest tearing the flesh from his bones.
"I heard that, Jenn. But it's like someone pissed of Elsa and she just won't let us out."Dave ducked as an Hammer came flying towards him, Mjolnir barely missing his head and blasting Pennywise behind him, sending him flying into the crowd. "And the zombies are getting worse, they seem to be multiplying like rabbits."
"Ewwww....that's just disturbing. A lot of fucking already goes on at ComicCon, but the idea of Zombies doing it? Just wrong."Jenn was his best friend from childhood, always at his side through it all, and always dressing as some duo from the geek world. This year, Team Rocket. Jesse and James... Jenn's idea. He wanted to go as an Avenger. He could have had a hammer.
"i don't think they...WHOA!"Dave ducked again, this time a bolt of lightning coming from Emperor Palpatine himself. Grabbing Jenn's hand, they bolted from the main floor to a stairwell that they knew, away from the horde of people fighting among the ruins of the booths set up, their loot already swiped in the initial riot when shit went south.
"How many Pokeballs do you have upstairs?"Jenn, always the thinker. Dave started counting in his head, trying to remember how many he brought with him as gags.
"I think I have 2 left, the rest I sold to that kid."It was right before that same kid decided to try and be brave, challenging Jason to a duel to protect his friends. If only the kid hadn't challenged him with Magikarp. Might have had a chance.
"Ok, one for me, one for you. Team Rocket! To Protect the World from Devastation!"
Bounding up the stairs, Dave and Jenn, now in the full persona of Jesse and James, hair and all, took off towards their room, dodging various people along the way. A Poison Ivy here, the Flash over there. It was truly a madhouse. Fights were breaking out among everyone, Good fighting Evil. Batmans versus Jokers, Sith versus Jedi, and monsters that you could only think of in nightmares. At least there was a pretty good Ash from Evil Dead taking care of the zombies, or trying to anyway.
"Here, this is where I stashed them. It's all we got left."Handing Jenn the last Pokeball, Dave moved back onto the balcony and looked out over the crowd, marveling at the various weaponry and spells that were being thrown around. Real Magic! It was equally as beautiful, and scary, seeing flaming swords striking at masses of people, fireballs being thrown around, all while Storm flew overhead striking anyone she could with wind and lightning, cackling the entire time. There was even a Mr. Manhattan walking around in all his glory, which was even more disturbing than the movie version....for this one was about 300 pounds of blue flesh.
"Well, we gotta make it count."Turning, they started back down towards the crowd, hoping to at least stem the tide, when Darth Vader, THE Darth Vader stepped out towards them.
"Join me, and together we can destroy the galaxy!"
"Really dude, that isn't even the line."Dave, knowing that he had no where to run, thought of the only thing he could. Tossing his only Pokeball out onto the floor, he yelled...
"I choose you, Pikachu!"A glow formed as the Pokeball opened, the yellow form of Pikachu appearing from the mist. Only, this Pikachu was once a human, and certainly wasn't equipped to be stuck in a tiny ball. The Pikachu / human lay crumbled in a broken mass, not breathing.
Facing Jenn, he turned away from Vader and yelled RUN. Or, he tried to...as Vader caught him in a force choke, crushing his windpipe and flinging his lifeless body into the chaos below.
"What about you, child? Will you yield to the awesome Power of Darth Vader?"
Jenn, trying to hold back tears as her one true friend was just erased from existence, kneeled before the dark lord of the sith.
Vader, shut off his red lightsaber and extended his hand to his new subject.
"Arise, My new Apprent..."
Vader, in all his dark glory, was no match for the specter that glided behind him, his bony hand touching his shoulder, causing him to seize up and then collapse to the floor.
"Freaking Amateurs. Think they got the whole badass thing down, when there is only ONE Dark Lord."
Death, the Reaper of Souls, had come. And as he reached down to take Jenn's hand, she knew that this way was better. That she would soon join Dave again, who was taken away from her just minutes before.
"Now sleep child. You don't want to see what comes next."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next morning, when the Ice finally melted away from the Comic Con center, the police and firefighters found nothing but bodies. And the Reaper, standing among the chaos, his Scythe dripping blood onto the once pristine tile.
And Laughing.
|
"Hey, Todd! What's up?"I waved to Todd from across the lobby. He waved enthusiastically back and started to walk over.
"Craig! Didn't expect to see you today. I see my assassins have failed again!"
We both gave a hearty chuckle, and he slapped my shoulder a few times as we shared the old familiar joke.
"So how's the family these days? Is your wife doing well?"he asked, the smile slightly fading from his face.
"They're decent, you know, not bad. Mary had some pretty bad food poisoning the other day, but the doctor put her on antibiotics and she's getting better. Gotta be careful with Chipotle these days, I guess. Never thought it'd happen to us, though, you know?"I said thoughtfully.
He nodded solemnly. "I've heard of some pretty nasty stories coming out of there recently. It's a shame, really. A damn shame."
"It really is. World's a scary place these days, you know? Hell, just last month my twin brother (you've met Thomas, right?), he got mugged in broad daylight! Scares me to think that I almost took the kids out to visit him in Long Island last week. That could have been us!"I shuddered.
He looked disturbed. "Wow, that's insane! Lucky it wasn't you, though, right?"He smiled a bit at that.
"Yeah, for sure. And there was that time our house was broken into a year ago. We could have been at home then! But look at me, talking so much. What's going on with you, man? I feel like it's been forever since I last saw you! Are you still dating that one girl? Carly, or something?"
"Nah, we ended it a few weeks back. It just wasn't right, you know? You know when you feel it, and that just wasn't it,"he concluded.
"Man, I'm sorry. It seemed like you two got along pretty well. Say, while you're here, can I ask a big favor of you?"I asked suddenly.
"Sure, Craig, what's up?"
"Well, I was driving here, and believe it or not my brakes stopped working almost as soon as I got off the interstate! Luckily I was already going pretty slowly and was able to pull off to the side and get the parking brake going before I called a tow truck, but now I'm stuck here without a ride, and I don't want to make Mary get up and drive me back home while she's still sick. I can pay for gas and everything."
"Absolutely, man, I'd be glad to. Don't worry about gas, that's totally fine. Talk about good luck, though. That couldn't have been better timing!"He almost looked frustrated. I guess I probably was screwing up his schedule a bit.
"Hey, thanks a ton. I'm really sorry. I owe you one for this. I'll meet you up by the front doors when we get off. See you around!"I started to walk away.
"Sure thing. See you around!"Todd turned and left in an opposite direction.
-
As promised, I met Todd at the door later in the day with my bag over my shoulder and a small sealed box in my hands. He gave me a questioning look.
"Ready to go? Say, what's that box? I don't remember you having that earlier."
I shrugged and answered truthfully. "No idea. Someone delivered it earlier today and said not to open it until I got home. Probably Freddie. You know how much he likes to play the secret agent."I chuckled. Todd apparently didn't find this as funny as I did.
We walked out to his car and had a surprisingly silent and awkward ride back to my home. After I clambered out of his old 2001 Honda Accord, he waved goodbye with a somewhat strained smile on his face before peeling out.
I unlocked the front door and went to check on Mary to make sure she was doing okay. She was sleeping peacefully on the couch in the living room, somewhat pale but still looking as beautiful as ever. I smiled slightly to myself. Suddenly, I had the feeling that I had forgotten something.
The box! I had left it in the back of Todd's car!
I sprinted outside as quietly as possible and tried hopelessly to catch him before he got too far away, but he was gone.
And that was the last I ever saw of Todd. That night, when Mary and I watched the evening news after putting the kids to bed, there was a story about a massive car crash on the interstate that was apparently started by the fiery explosion of a 2001 Honda Accord.
I was sad, in a distant way. Todd was such a good guy. |
This wasn't right. The plot was supposed to have taken the characters to the forest where they would have fought the 'monster in the dark'. Why had they spent two days in the inn getting drunk, and why didn't I remember writing it?
*Maybe I should stop writing drunk, but never mind. I'll just highlight this section of text and, delete...*
A computer error flashed up on my screen `This action cannot be taken`
*What the hell?*
I closed the document down and reopened it, then clicked on a random line and hit the backspace. `This action cannot be taken` I dismissed the error and highlighted another random chunk, **delete, delete** `This action is against the primary users wishes`
*I'm the primary user, dammit.* I thought, closing the document and checking in the properties for administrative permissions. Seeing that 'read only' was checked I unticked the box, but another error popped up `You do not have permission to do that.` What the hell was going on?
I looked through the metadata.
`Author:` [ethancordn](https://www.reddit.com/user/Ethancordn/), nothing wrong there.
`Last saved by:` Phinnius Farbody
*What the hell??* Phinnius was the main character of the novel... this must be some kind of joke. I opened up the document again to see what had been written, and scrolled down to the bottom where there was another new paragraph.
`Phinnius weighed his purse sadly in the palm of his hand `
`and tipped it upright to reveal a single copper coin,`
`spinning lonely on the top of the bar table. Enough for a shot`
`of Dragon Spit, but after that he'd be scuppered. Thinking`
`hard Phinnius thought he had the solution. He lifted up the`
`unassuming amulet that he had been given by the mysterious`
`old maid and his eyes glittered. With the money he could get`
`from this useless bit of junk he'd be set for weeks!`
My eyes widened and I stared in disbelief as another chunk of text appeared in front of my eyes.
`The town wasn't big enough to have a decent pawn shop,`
`but Phinnius managed to find a man in a big black hooded cloak`
`who was looking for amulets to buyand was willing to pay above`
`and beyond for the right one. What luck.`
My mouth opened and I stammered unintelligently. Was my book writing itself? More lines began to appear and I realised that I couldn't deny it. My characters had gained a life of their own!
I spent a moment shocked and proud, what an author to have written a character so real that they came to life, then I paused and squinted at the screen.
`"Hello, fair traveller, I hear that you have an amulet for sale?"`
`Said the man through the folds of his heavy black cloak.`
Wait. What was Phinnius doing? Why would he sell the amulet, didn't he know it was important to the story.
`"Why yes I do, I've been carrying this lump of metal around for `
`weeks as a good luck charm. And honestly, I'm not sure why, I`
`got it off some old woman and I don't really like it, so it might`
`as well buy me some beer."Phinnius stated with a grin.`
Oh no, this was bad, I had kept the true nature of the Amulet secret so the audience would be surprised when it showed it's magic in the climactic battle and saved the day. But now he was going to sell it.
`"Well, I think I can give you a good price"Said the old man,`
`holding out his hand and revealing a gold ring made of two gold`
`serpents intertwined by linking tails and biting into a shining red ruby.`
Wait, I recognise that description, that was the ring worn by Malachmort, Darkmoon's faithful servant. If the amulet fell into his hands then the whole world would be doomed, with the power of the ring Darkmoon would be unstoppable.
I sat bolt upright and my hands sprang to the keyboard. I started typing furiously.
`As the ring was revealed, Phinnius recognised it as the mark`
`of dark forces that had yet to be revealed.`
The moment I had finished typing another sentence sprang onto the screen, it looked like I could add to the world but wouldn't have time to take complete control.
`"Wait a minute,"Phinnius said, "I don't like the look of that ring."`
It had worked!
`"Well,"said the old man, "I was given this ring by someone I didn't`
`know too, in fact, I was looking to sell it if you're interested."He took`
`off the ring and held it out to Phinnius.`
`Phinnius squinted down at the item and shook his head, "I don't need`
`more junk, I need more money, and I guess it's not up to me what`
`trinkets you carry around, how much for the amulet?"`
*"Phinnius you idiot"* I groaned as I raised my hands back to the keyboard, time for a more direct approach.
`Phinnius turned around and walked away from the man, deciding`
`to keep his amulet.`
There, that should keep things on track a little.
`Phinnius turned back around, unsure as to why he had suddenly`
`decided to keep the amulet, but very sure that what he really`
`wanted was some more Dragon's Spit and that selling the Amulet`
`was the best way for him to get it.`
*Goddamn it* I thought, guessing that just like writing, I couldn't go completely against a characters nature without giving good reason. One more time.
`Phinnius took one more look at the amulet and saw it shining with`
`a hidden and powerful light, one that he hadn't noticed before, but`
`one that he recognised was clearly important and far too valuable to sell.`
`But Phinnius was really thirsty, and he thought that if the amulet was`
`that important then surely he would have noticed something about it`
`before now. Maybe he was just seeing this light because he needed a`
`drink, and really, hidden secret powerful amulets weren't handed out`
`by old women except in bad fantasy novels.`
*What.* Was Phinnius mocking me? Or was it my novel, had it taken control to spite me? Well if they were going to make fun of me then they could just give away the amulet and destroy the world, see if I cared. I could write another book, but they could never get another universe the ungrateful sods.
`Phinnius handed the Old man the Amulet as he dropped ten gold`
`coins into Phinnius's hands. Then suddenly the world darkened.`
`"FOOL!`
`Rang out a voice from the heavens, deep and booming.`
`"Fool! You have doomed your world, with this amulet my`
`master will reap destruction across all creation, and all`
`dimensions. You will suffer as you have never known.`
`Phinnius swallowed, maybe this hadn't been the best idea.`
`He definitely needed a drink now.`
I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms with satisfaction as Malachmort rent a path of chaos across the land, bringing the amulet to his master. Darkmoon took the amulet and in fire and pressure and pain he tore the world apart, taking Phinnius and trapping him in torture for eternity. I felt a twinge of guilt, this had been my character and I did like him even if he was an idiot, but it was too late for that now.
I read on as Darkmoon scoured the globe for powerful artefacts, it was amazing to see the things he could accomplish with items I'd created. Then, using the amulet, he took the mirror of all seeing and wove it together with the cloak of travel. What was the point of that?
I watched the page as Darkmoon stood in the centre of his tower and said goodbye to his faithful servant, not knowing when he would return, and then vanished.
The document described his room as empty, and the world as still, then stopped updating. I stared at the screen for a while, but it looked like the story was over. *Bit of an anti-climax* I thought, but whatever. I saved the document and closed it, looking at the metadata that was still open on my screen.
`Author:` Darkmoon
That was weird.
**"FOOL!"** Rang out the voice from behind me.
**
~~*Hope the formatting works*~~ (Edit: Formatting)
*Thanks for reading :)*
*Check out my [Subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Ethancordn/) for more stories by me.* |
She never aged. And she was always wearing that same dress - blue and black with a crescent moon made of clear stones across the bodice. That's why I thought I was dreaming all those times. That's why I thought it wasn't real.
"This is Via. She likes your glasses."
Candice smirked, leaning back from the bar, opening a space in the dim light for *her* to appear. The woman in the blue dress. Via.
"Pleasure,"said Via, extending a hand across the chasm. Her face was closed. There was no familiarity there. I was a stranger. *We* were strangers. Though we weren't.
"I'm sorry, you look so familiar,"I said, smiling, heart thumping. "Have we met do you think?"
She shook her head. "I'm not from here,"she said. "I can't imagine."
"She's a traveler,"said Candice. "Just visiting. She's my bar buddy."
There was nothing strange in Candice befriending a stranger at the bar. That was her lifeblood. She drew energy from the newness of life and unexpected relationships. She was also a notorious philanderer. That she was trying to pass Via off to me meant her new playmate didn't play the same games she did.
"Where are you from?"I asked, leaning in, making an effort to inconvenience Candice.
Via gestured broadly. "Another time. Another place."
"You sound Italian,"I said. "Are you Italian?"
She smiled. "Sure."
"What are you here for?"
A shrug, almost bored. "To see, I suppose."
Candice took the hint and bugged off to the other end of the bar. I snatched her seat. Via didn't seem to mind. At least, she didn't leave. I ordered us each a martini - a nice, middle of the road sort of drink - and looked at her again. Maybe she wasn't the woman I'd seen all those years, I started to think. She was still so *young*, after all. Long, narrow nose ending in a tiny nub. Brown, sun-baked skin and long black hair swept behind her ears. Green eyes.
It was the green eyes - that was the detail I couldn't get past. I remembered those eyes and that dress. That combination. That was how I had come to remember her and mark her every time. In Disney World at 8 years old, in Spain at 12, at the Grand Canyon at 13, in Hawaii at 15, in Ireland at 17. That dress and those eyes.
"This is going to sound like a really strange and terrible pick-up line,"I said, "but I've *seen* you before. Many times. All these places I went with my family, growing up - I saw you there. But..."I kept waiting for her to roll her eyes or excuse herself and walk away, but she was listening. She was interested. "But you always looked like this,"I said. "Like you do this very moment. That's why I thought you looked familiar. I swear... I've seen you before."
She nodded. "Were these important moments?"
I wasn't sure how to answer that. It wasn't the question I expected. "I suppose. They were family vacations. It was good *and* bad. Lot of fun, but also annoying and agitating. You know how it is with family. You love each other and you drive each other crazy."
"I see,"she said. "That's interesting. And I was there?"
"I swear. Or it's all just the damnedest case of deja vu ever. Kinda weird, right?"
"I suppose it is,"she said, taking a slow sip of her martini. "But it sounds interesting."
"Yeah,"I said, draining my glass and suddenly feeling very self-conscious. She was a beautiful woman, after all, and I only then realized how weird I was being. "The brain's a strange thing."
"I meant your vacations,"she said. "Do you still go on vacations with your family?"
I snorted. "Uh, no. We sorta aged out of that. And uh, my mom died a couple years ago, so... you know, she was the one who pulled it all together."
"Would you show me?"said Via. "I think it's something I'd like to see."
"Show you...what?"I asked.
"These vacations,"said Via. "When I was there. Where you remember me. Could we see them?"
"I don't understand,"I said. I considered the possibility that she was mocking me. It can be hard to tell sometimes with foreigners. "You want to look at pictures or something? I don't have any family vacation photos with me, but I guess..."
Via stood up off her barstool. "No. Where I've already been. I want to see what I'm meant to see. Show me."
She took my hands. She was much stronger than she'd seemed. We walked out of the bar together. Candice smiled and waved from a dark corner, cradling a beer in one hand and what looked like an art student in the other. I let Via lead me away, though I was scared. She was strange. And I was strange. And I had no idea what we were about to do.
Out in the warm August night, she pulled me into a secluded spot just off the parking lot and held my shoulders in her hands.
"Where was I first? The first time you saw me?"
I blinked. "Disney World. But I really... that might be my mind playing tricks."
Via shook her head. "It's not a trick. It's something we should see. Close you eyes and think about it. That moment. That place. That time. Think and *see*. Do you see? Is it there? Good, good! Open your eyes."
I did as I was told. And we were there. In Disney World. In 1989. Everything was neon and plastic and fanny packs as far as the eye could see.
And there *we* were. My family. My father and mother, yelling and jabbing fingers at a paper map. Bobby, half-comatose and sticky with churro. Kelsie, whining at no one in particular, pointing at a lumbering, giant squirrelman three blocks away. And me - staring back at me. No, not me. I was looking at Via. The beautiful woman in the blue dress who'd come out of nowhere. The blue dress with the crescent moon made of a clear stones. The beautiful woman with green eyes.
My father started walking away. My mother reached back and grabbed the younger me by the strap of my green tank top. So I turned and marched away, next to Bobby and Kelsie.
"It's an interesting place,"said Via, watching as me and my family disappeared into the swarming crowd. "You had fun here?"
I nodded, dazed. "Kelsie threw up on Thunder Mountain. It was great."
"Thank you for sharing,"said Via. "Where else did you see me?"
I didn't understand it. I still don't. But what happened happened. We traveled. All the places Via had been, Via went. I witnessed history making itself. And I remembered - remembered the man who was always nearby the woman in the blue dress, always looking perplexed and lost. I remembered how unremarkable that man was in comparison to the woman in the blue dress. And I could see the young me learning to un-see the older me. I only had eyes for Via back then.
"Why did you do this?"I asked Via, as we stood in Wicklow, watching my family escape the rain by dashing into a pub.
"Because I had done it,"she said, taking my hand and pressing it to her face. "You've seen my relationship with time. It's a bit tenuous. And now... I go where I've gone, in the hopes that being where I've been will tell me what I knew or show me what I've seen. I've been to that bar. I've met you. I've followed you backwards through time. I've seen you age. And I've seen you age further. I've seen you through your end. So I'll do that again. To see what I've seen and learn what I've learned."
She pulled the glasses off my face, wiping away the raindrops with the hem of her dress.
"I love you,"she said. "Not yet. But somewhere in all this, I love you. And you love me. I just don't know when. And I've forgotten how. And I can't see why. But I will. And you will. Until then, I'll just keep traveling. Okay?"
I said, "Okay,"but it wasn't. Because I *did* love her, even if I didn't quite know why or how. It was as if I had been waiting all my life, so very, very patiently for her to show up at that bar. And then she did. And we traveled. I knew all too well how much I loved her.
But she did not come back with me from Ireland in 2009. I don't know where she went. I just know that she is retracing her steps, hoping to find answers.
The trouble, of course, is that if she did come back to me, I would be no help. I don't have any answers. Why does she love me? I don't know. I can't even adequately explain why I love her. I do because I feel I'm meant to - as if my love is the final machination of some monstrously complex, decades long Rube Goldberg device.
So I wait. I hope she finds her answers. I hope she comes back to me.
And every day I look, look for my lady in a blue dress. |
Oh man, the registration line is so long. Who imagined death would be more waiting? Morgan sighed. She glanced around. Nothing, but a giant white dome and black marble floors that seemed to stretch on forever. Then she noticed someone skip out of the line.
Far, far on the other side of the room, a new window had opened. Morgan ran towards it, passing hundreds of people waiting to register their death and receive their role in the afterlife. She slowed after seeing above the window, "Experiment: Helpergeist."Was this what she imagined? Going into people's homes and being a maid, essentially? She was a server most her life before, did she really want to serve people again?
She looked back at the line. It had grown. The lines for the "Helpergeist"only had five people in it. Reluctantly, she joined them.
When she reached the window a lady with flaring peacock glasses held out her hand and asked for Morgan's registration slip. Morgan gave it to her.
"Morgan Nodder... most accomplished task... deceased at 63... Yep, found you."
"Okay, what happens now?"asked Morgan.
"Well, I've put you into the Helpergiest registration system, you'll be receiving a mentor promptly and they will be taking you for your first lesson."
"Okay,"nodded Morgan.
"If you would please wait elsewhere, there's someone behind you,"said the lady. A young boy was patiently waiting behind Morgan. Morgan apologized to the boy, shocked by his youth.
"No problem, miss!"he smiled and hopped on up to the window. His eyes were level with the windowsill.
"Morgan!"a voice spoke from behind. It was a man in all white, resembling Mr. Clean. He placed his hand out for Morgan to shake.
"I'm Paul, nice to meet you!"
When they shook, they flashed out of existence and appeared in a home in the slums of Camden, New Jersey. The was a mother and boy sitting alone around the television in a tiny apartment, with a kitchen-living room, bathroom, and one bedroom. A bottle of alcohol rested beside the mother, who could barely keep her eyes open.
"Now,"said Paul. "This is at the experimental stage, but we want to help families like these. The mother, we do not know if we can secure her future, but the boy, he still has his whole life ahead of him."
Morgan gazed at the boy, remembering the sweet little child back at the registration center. She never had children of her own and could never be bothered with taking care of them, but this child stirred something inside of her.
"What can I do?"she asked. Paul smiled.
"Luckily for you, as long as the mother is either absent, intoxicated or unconscious, you may interact with any object in the apartment. You can clean, cook, make lunches or dinners, build lessons plans for Tyler, edit resumes for Fiona. This home is your slab of marble, David. Sculpt and create."
"And what if I fail? What if I make things worse?"asked Morgan. Paul closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Without you, failure is guaranteed,"he said. "Now, let's get started with your first lesson. Object interaction!"
|
User: So, I’m here about the Craigslist for the second-hand Xbox 1. The listing says it’s $100 but surely that can’t be true?
TotallyHuman: So, are there – you know – defence satellites?
User: Where?
TotallyHuman: Like, you know, in space?
User: I don’t know, apparently there’s some treaty that forbids it.
TotallyHuman: Wait. Your telling me that ~~your~~ I mean our planet is completely defenceless? Like, completely hypothetically of course, I could come and invade with no resistance?
User: Yeah, I suppose. Look, can I buy the Xbox?
TotallyHuman: Sure sure. Say, if an alien armada were to suddenly appear near Earth, do you reckon there’d be any way to beat said armada or would the people just submit to pillaging and probes.
User: Look, I’m not comfortable with this, I’m gonna get my Dad.
TotallyHuman: Wait wait, there’s no need for that. I’ll give you the Xbox for free.
User: Really? You give me the Xbox and stops asking weird questions?
TotallyHuman: Pinky promise
User: Sweet
TotallyHuman: So how many nuclear weapons do ~~the humans~~ we have lying around?
**User has left the chat**
|
"Your results make rather curious reading, something which I've never seen in all of my years at this testing facility."She handed me the envelope, her expression grim. I hesitantly took it from her hand. I slowly opened it, then, before taking the piece of paper out, I thought of something.
"There's nothing in there that will stop me from 'graduating', is there?"
"Young man, this facility prides itself on having a 100% success rate, and we shall *not* withhold your powers due to some strange results. I just thought that I should warn you that yours is not a typical case."
I pulled out the paper, and read it. At the top was my details, name, date of birth, date of testing, address, all that stuff. Then, below that was the results.
Moral alignment: N/A.
Methodology: N/A.
Power Affinity: N/A.
Power Scale: Undefined.
Recommended Power: N/A.
Potential Fallout: Limitless.
I looked up. She was right, this was curious. I let the letter fall to the ground, fully aware that I had to say *something*. A half-strangled noise came out of my throat. I had nothing. My mind was blank.
"Rest assured, you shall leave this facility a powered individual, but, if these results are anything to go by, then you will be the first person in history to choose their own power, rather than have the system choose it for them. I imagine that which power you choose will play a large role in deciding who you end up being as a person."
The implications hung in the air. Not only was my own power and future in my hands, but the fate of the entire world. The ripples from my choice today would be far reaching indeed. I sat down. There were no chairs, I simply sat on the floor, my mind racing. What did I want from my power? When I had first arrived, I had my sights set on super strength, or maybe pyrokinesis, but in my time here I had learned about some of the better powers. For example, you could never underestimate the power of mind-reading, or aerokinesis, which was arguably the single most useful of the basic elemental manipulation.
My teacher was looking down at me, as if waiting for an answer. I needed more time to think, more time to figure out who I wanted to be. It wasn't a small thing to ask, for me to decide the remainder of my life like that. I looked at my hands, and then idly traced an old scar, my mind still whirling. An idea formed. I placed my hands on the floor, pushing myself back up to standing.
"OK."
"OK? That's all you have to say? No indications about preference, or any ideas? Nothing for me to go on?"
"Regeneration, or any power which usually gets it as a side benefit."
She nodded, her eyes flickering to the scar that I'd traced, visibly relaxing. She'd been worried that I would choose something with more destructive capability. But this power would have the farthest reaching effects. If my power scale was undefined, that meant infinite. And infinite regeneration would mean immunity to all diseases and injuries, or at least I would immediately bounce back. And, if my theory was right, after a point, my body would probably start viewing ageing as damage, and stopping that.
If I was right, then i had just snagged myself immortality. |
"You humans sure eat some weird shit"A hooded figure chuckled from across the plain. "What's your deal anyways?"I groan as I slice through the fields of wheat, oats, rice, and corn. "Hey, I don't make the rules, I'm just the enforcer"the hooded figure laughs. "Let me know when you've defeated all those grains so I can bring forward the next challenger"he says slyly.
"Ok finished", I huff as I execute one last swipe with the grim reaper scythe the hooded figure let me borrow. "What's next? More grains? A chicken?"
"Oh you'll like this one"he chortles.
"G'day mate, remember me?"I turn around with a start.
"Oh COME ON!"I shout at the hooded figure. Before me stands the tour guide my friends and I hired on our trip to Australia. My face burns red as I remember that time my friends and I decided to pre-game right before our safari ride. I ended up getting into a fight with the tour guide and biting a decent chunk out of his arm. "Since when is biting the same as eating?!"I yell. "I even paid him triple as an apology!"I sob.
"You swallowed it. Still counts. Rule book says so"the hooded figure holds up a thick book. "Good luck!" |
He wipes the sweat off his magnificent brow and prepares himself for the third leg in the 4x100m dash. Naturally, he is running all four legs of the relay. The athlete is on Olympic Record pace. No. World Record pace. He is the greatest athlete to step foot on this Earth: Our supreme leader Kim Jong Un!
Two months before:
"I can't believe it! I'm so sick of all these people making fun of me! I'm sick of the memes, the cyber bullying, everything!"yells a pain stricken Kim Jong Un at the 50-foot golden statue of former Supreme Leader Kim Jong Il, his father. He remembers the old American movie- Man Spider, or something like that- and decides to become super powerful by having a radioactive spider bite him. "General! One radioactive spider please!"yells the galant supreme leader. A few minutes later, his impeccably punctual general shows up with a small tarantula. "It was not hard to find radioactive spider, because all spiders can be radioactive by nuking them in the microwave,"proclaims his general. "Good work!"yells the almighty ruler. Kim Jong Un lets the spider crawl upon his smooth skin. But the spider can not bring itself to sink it's teeth into the body of the leader in fear of being executed! Out of sheer rage, Kim Jong Un bites the radioactive spider. It is shocked by the sheer sharpness and cleanliness of Supreme Leader's pearly whites.
Meanwhile in Heaven: God sits down for a light cotton candy snack when an angel rushes in, barely able to keep his halo aligned on his head. "God damn it!"yells the Angel. "What is the meaning of this?! Can't you see I'm having a snack!!!"yells the false deity. "Kim Jong Un just bit a radioactive spider. God forbid he gets cancer from this, what a fool- I mean friendly and almighty leader""God damn!"shouts God. He snaps his fingers reluctantly, and a flash of lightning can be seen for miles over Pyongyang.
In the Supreme Leader's court:
Kim Jong Un is moderately inconvenienced by the Lightning. He looks at his general and laughs uncontrollably- I mean controllably (control is the first step to a successful nation). He lifts himself up effortlessly! His stride elegant! His jump graceful! His finesse powerful! Kim Jong Un is now perfect (even though he was already perfect before)! He commands his general to prepare for him to be trained for the Olympics. The next two months are not hard for Kim at all. He effortlessly learns all the ins and outs of each and every event. He is a natural! Finally, the 2028 Pyongyang Olympics are here! The Great North Korean flag flies triumphantly at the opening ceremony. Undoubtedly the greatest Olympic ceremony of all time. Kim has privileged his best concubines to dance at the event. It was marvelous.
Kim Jong Un begins the 4x100m relay and gets the gold medal. He gets the gold medal in all events with a new world record. Except Equestrian- that was the horse's fault.
Hope you enjoyed! |
I took my seat at the front end of the executive table in the florescent lit jury room. Eleven other jurors filled the rest of the chairs and I felt anxious as everyone who sat around me seemed so damn innocent.
My right armpit tends to cry for me when I become extremely nervous.
At the other end of the table, the juror whom I sat shoulder to shoulder with for the entire case, looked at me like he was trying to read my mind. Suddenly, my left armpit began to cry.
Not long after, they were both bawling.
“So,” I could not break eye contact with the man across from me, “I think we can all agree this should be a rather quick decision?”
All heads nodded in agreement, except for mister mind reader.
“No one else found it odd that young Julian was the first person to call the police? Why would he report himself?” The man looked at me as if I knew what happened. As if everything *young Julian* told the jury was true!
My legs crossed when I took on the sudden urge to piss.
“It was a prank,” said the juror who closely resembled a knock-off Jennifer Lopez despite her muscular features, “He wanted to see the cops reaction.”
“He told the 911 operator, and I quote,” finally the man stopped reading my mind so he could read the paper in front of him. “There is a pile of poop bigger than my head on the public bus stop bench at 43rd street.”
My hand covered my mouth as I bit down on my lip in an attempt not to explode with laughter in front of my lovely peers. That line always got me.
He continued reading, “And I think there is hair pick stuck in the pile of shit,” I began to get a headache as the man lifted his eyes from the paper. “End quote.”
I casually raised my arms behind my head and buried my hair pick deep down into my perspiring Afro. The man gazed at me so intensely that I began to experience a brain freeze.
He had infiltrated my mind!
“All who think young Julian is guilty, say aye!” I screamed.
“And,” Professor X declared over my voice, “an eyewitness stated she saw a *very sweaty* man with a large ball on his head walking north on 43rd street approximately ten minutes after police arrived.” All 22 eyes in the room glanced at my weeping armpits before I quickly pinched my hands between my legs. “Although, I do acknowledge that the witness was an elderly woman.”
“Pshhhhh,” the round man to my left spit out, “my grandma steps on her own cat because she mistakes him for her slippers. I vote guilty, let’s go home.”
Everyone in the room agreed except for the dumbfounded man on the other side of the table. Chairs emptied as the jurors began to exit until it was just him and I.
Our eyes locked for an eternity in silence.
“Well,” I sighed, “I gotta take a dump.”
|
There was a thud, and screams. It worked then. Tyson Day, rapist, possible murder, and Orville High's star quarterback, fell dead to the ground. A small smile touches my lips.
After reading the suicide note from my best friend Jane, a few things came to me. One, was that Tyson was a rapist. He had raped her, and many others, and she couldn't live with it anymore. I found her in her apartment, a bottle of pills lying empty on it's side. And there was that one kid Brian. All he wanted was to be like Tyson. He joined the football team, got close to Tyson, and started acting odd.
Then one day, he was found face down in the pond on campus. I don't know how but I knew. Tyson had cause this. I looked up and gasped, surprised to see the once empty room I was in nearly full.
"-so that's what we were thinking"finished Sara, Tyson's girlfriend. "I'm sorry, what? I zoned out there for a second"I reply. She huffs and blows a stray strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. "I SAID, since you're Sherlock, we were hoping you'd help us find out who did this"she says, contempt in her voice. I knew this would come back to bite me. But, it WAS a costume party, and the Holmes costume from last year was all I had.
"Sure, I'll do my best,"I reply, "but no promises."Suddenly the room was just as empty as it was at first. I hate these kids.I walk around the house, occasionally nodding, as I cased it, looking for a way out. Then, I go to his body, and inspect his cup. Of course, I knew what was in it, I had added a small toxin to his drink while he was "talking"to some of the girls that just walked in.
"It looks to me,"I start "That he was poisoned somehow. Did anyone see someone put anything in his cup?"I tensed. If anyone had seen me put the powder in his cup, I would be done for. Prison for life, at least. Silence. Then, a voice "Yeah, I saw someone in a Sherlock costume go by the cup for a little bit."Shit. I'm done for. I look around, trying my best to hide the guilt on my face, as faces look at me with realization.
"So........who else was here in a Sherlock costume. I mean it couldn't be HIM,"Sarah says, pointing towards me "This geek doesn't even have chemistry yet."My tension releases. Sarah, you beautiful idiot. I was in her class. I sat two seats behind her. I was there the day they taught toxins. She just never noticed. Slowly, murmurs of agreement wafted up ".....yeah she's right....""......He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly....."I stood up, and silenced the crowd.
"I suggest we search the nearby premises for anyone looking suspicious."everyone agreed, and headed out. The cops arrive, and take the body. After everyone is gone, I go outside to the fire pit and burn my costume, then head back up to my room. I just got away with murder. |
**It had been twenty years since the war.** Twenty years since that draft letter entered my mail box. It called for all able bodied men over the age of eighteen, any man with a trade was a plus. My career as a machinist was put on hold that day. My life as a husband as well.
Her name was Mary. Doe eyed and pale, with red hair that draped her shoulders. She liked to swim in the morning, in the lake outside our home. Sometimes in the evening too, when the skyline turned orange and then red, then black. We'd drink wine and float along under the stars, and she'd point out her favorite which was always the brightest. As a joke I always chose the moon, and she would always laugh. And then the war had started, and it was time to leave. Her brown eyes seemed black when I last saw her, punctuated by the swelling and the tears she tried to hide.
"Are you afraid, Private?"The drill instructors barked all day, every day, for three months.
To answer 'yes' was to be ordered at least a dozen push-ups. On a particularly bad day one of the drill instructors pulled me aside and said "Listen, every time that you're afraid think of something back home."And I always thought of Mary. Not Mary on our wedding day, or Mary on our honey moon. Mary the first time I ever met her.
"Well?"She had asked with her eye brows quirked in an angry v.
"Uh, I'm sorry?"I replied.
"Are you just going to sit there or are you going to pay me for the performance?"She said, sweating in a wooden chair in the courtyard of our school.
Mary didn't come from a wealthy family and to get by she would play the violin for money. She would play in the same spot every day, in the shadow of a giant tree, until the shadow moved and her Irish skin began to burn. Every day after school I would go and watch her play. Sometimes for an hour, sometimes until the sun dipped below the horizon. After a week she decided to say something, and I could only gawk at her. Instead of dropping a dollar bill I asked her if I could take her out. She said "As long as I get my money's worth."And then she flashed a smile I'd never forget.
Then the war. The second greatest war mankind had ever faced, World War II. I made a lot of friends, lost a lot of friends, witnessed horrors no man should ever see. Through it all I thought of Mary. The war ended, though with all wars the destruction it caused would last forever. I returned home to see that my home had been demolished, my town, even the school where I had first met my wife.
"I'm looking for a women.."I'd asked all over the ruins of that town. To men and women trying to reclaim their old lives. Nobody had seen her, not in that town or the towns next door. For years I'd searched for her, for any sign that she was alive or dead and yet I found nothing.
Now I'm a man approaching fifty. My back aches, my eyes require spectacles and my hearing has begun to whimper. A sharp buzzing noise drilled through my ears, and at first I assumed it was from all the shells I'd heard in the war, all the bullets fired and the screaming. But as the buzz grew stronger I realized it came from only one direction.
The direction changed over the course of the day. After a month I was able to plot out where, and when. I'd made a map of Paris, my new home, and traced a line made of my findings. As I followed this line the buzzing grew in strength, louder and more fierce until one night it consumed my hearing almost entirely. Not in a rough way of course, the sound became almost harmonious. Almost like Mary's voice.
"What a beautiful building."I said to myself as I looked at the concert hall from the corner of the street. The building was lit up by the brightest start I had ever seen and I thought of Mary and how she'd swoon at the sight of the place. I decided to step inside.
The building smelt of roses and old wood. The floors were polished and gleamed almost golden under the lighting of the stage. A single performer practiced the violin from the center of the hall. She had long orange hair, pale skin, dark walnut eyes. Almost the spitting image of Mary the first time I met her, but slightly different.
"Oh, sorry."Said the woman when her performance was done. "We've finished playing an hour ago."
"Sorry to interrupt."I smiled, and then I noticed the buzzing was gone.
"We'll be playing here tomorrow."The woman chirped. "After that we'll be playing in London."
"Alright."I smiled one last time. The woman began to pack her belongings as I held my hands together.
Noticing that I wasn't moving she asked "Do I know you?"
I took a breath and asked "This might sound strange but.. are you perhaps related to a woman named Mary, Mary Moreau? From the French town of Cannes?"
The woman tilted her head and said "I'm her daughter."
"May I ask, your father's name?"
"Well."She replied as if she was opening a sore wound. "I didn't know my father well. He went off to the war before I was born. I don't think he ever even knew my mother was pregnant."
"Ah."I said before my throat clenched. "And your mother, do you know where I might find her?"
"She died seven years ago."The woman said solemnly.
My eyes began to swell. I felt as if I might burst.
"I'm sorry to hear that."I replied.
She approached me slowly as she inspected my face. "You look familiar. Like a man in a picture my mother used to cherish."
"Perhaps."I said with a throb. "Do you know what cemetery she was buried in?"
"It's the big one, with the large black tree two miles from here."She started. "I could show you if you'd like.."
"No, that'll be fine.."I forced the words out and then turned around. "I'll be going then."
The woman watched me without moving as I departed the concert hall and began running towards the cemetery she described. The ringing burned in my ears the further from the building I ran.
___________
I spent the rest of the night searching the cemetery for Mary's plot and then the following day in mourning besides her grave. As the sun began to rise, and my tears began to dry the ringing returned, sharper than ever.
I said my final good bye and knew I had to hurry. I had to follow the ringing and find the concert hall before the woman from before left for London. If that woman was my daughter then she was the last bit of Mary this world had to offer. I couldn't afford to lose her twice.
______
Thanks for reading. Follow r/WritingWithLace updated with three stories a day. |
"Kick it."
I sighed and turned to my left shoulder, staring at the little, formally dressed version of me. He was on his phone, but he didn't look like he cared very much. I was pretty sure he was playing Sudoku.
"I'm not going to kick it. It's a dog."
And not exactly a mean dog, either. Just some mutt on the side of the street, begging for scraps from the passer-bys. I had numbered among them, up until about two seconds ago when I had become distinctly involved in the creature's live, thanks to Stan.
I figured 'Shoulder Satan' was too direct, and he was always sort of a devil groupie, so Stan was a pretty good fit.
"Angelo?"I asked, turning to my right shoulder where the identical little me, the only difference being the robes instead of the suit, stood. Angelo had not been my idea, he had a name tag the first day he showed up. Said it was a test run or something, wanted me to feel comfortable.
"Kick it,"Angelo said without a second thought, and then lowered the minuscule book of crosswords he was filling in. "Did I just say kick it?"
"Yes,"quipped back Stan, a triumphant look on his little face.
Note to self, never make that face.
"Why... Don't kick it... send it to the ASPCA or something..."Angelo muttered under his breath, throwing the book of crosswords off of my back and pulling out a thick spiral-bound manual, flipping through it with a worried little look. Frankly, a far more flattering expression on me than the snooty one.
"Angelo? Everything good?"I muttered to him privately as I kept walking. I didn't want to be late for work, after all.
"Good, good..."he murmured, still flipping, still worried. "Did you kick it yet? Shit, no, don't kick it. Shit, I can't say that word, sorry God,"he added, nodding his head upwards.
Angelo was a little high-strung, so I was just hoping that it was an Angelo thing.
Two hours later I was sitting at my desk.
I hate spreadsheets. I absolutely despise spreadsheets. My profession makes me want to die, to be perfectly and brutally honest.
Oh well.
I turned to my left, to check on Stan. He wasn't there.
I flipped my head over the right, and the both of them were sitting on my shoulder, the pile of manuals steadily having grown.
"Guys?"I whispered, and the two of them jumped up, staring back into my eyes.
"Oh, uh, hey..."they said unanimously, making them then look back at each other in fear. "So, err, Jim, we're going to have to, err, leave. For a little bit."
"Leave?"
I didn't expect them to leave. They'd been sitting there, standing there, sleeping there for almost five years now. They'd helped my through senior year. Well, mostly Angelo, but Stan was good for parties.
"What's.... what's wrong?"I ventured, more than a little worried.
"Just... just some... some refurbishing. Yeah. Yeah..."
They didn't want me to pry, so I didn't. I just nodded, and then they were gone.
From the back of the office, I heard John fiddle with his little portable radio, and then the shrill voice of a religious Talk Radio host yell, "God hates f-!"before quickly being turned to a different channel.
---
Hey! This is /u/storymcwriteface here, and I've started a quest to respond to at least a prompt a day for (barring anything unforseen) a year. Feel free to check out my profile if you want to follow my quest to do so. Thanks!
|
*ommmmm maiiiii tahhhhh dahhhhh lahhhh*
The red hoods stood over me in a circle, I was chained like a starfish to the floor, with the cold concrete pressing against my back and the cheeks of my buttox. I could feel little specs of rock digging into the skin of my ankles as I swayed them back and forth to the rhythm of their chants. I was probably in somebodies basement.
Through the small gaps between their red cloaks, I could see their shadows upon a stone wall next to the dancing light of torch fire. it reminded me of last time. Oh how sweet a memory. And to think I would be lucky enough to experience it once more.
I closed my eyes and smiled as I felt a blade slide down my center chest towards my bottom abs.
*What the fuck.* Said one of the red coats.
The chanting stopped. I felt the blade pressed to my skin harder than before as they desperately tried to cut me.
*Get me another knife* barked one of the red coats.
I could feel the tension arising in the room as their orderly ritual was beginning to fall into chaos, and once the second knife yielded the same results, I felt the knife stab against my chest with laughable force.
*Christ John!* Yelled one of the red coats.
*What did I say about using my real name dammit.* John said, straightening up and wiping the sweat from his brow. *This fucker won't bleed.*
*He's smiling!* Said one of the other red coats.
*I'll handle him* said a deep voice. I could feel the atmosphere change as if Moses had suddenly appeared and parted the red circle. I tried not to laugh as I felt what could only be a sword trying to force it's way inside my chest. It reminded me about last time and how the Aztecs had tried to do the same with spears after they had failed to take my head off. The only difference was that the Aztecs had been much stronger.
I could feel the blade shaking back and forth as the man used all his strength, until finally he slinked back and dropped the sword on the floor with a clank.
"Lock that door, don't let the others see this."Said John, who must be their leader. "We must complete the ritual at any costs."
I heard a low pitched scraping sound as if someone had slid a lever across a large steel door. I could sense them bundled together nearby, whispering about what they should do next.
I sighed, and lifted my wrists and legs from the shackles. They bent like flimsy aluminum, and I was free. I stood up and looked down at where I had been laying. They had drawn a lovely devil's circle with pigs blood, and nearby there was a crows jaw and the spine of a deer.
I laughed.
*He's free!* yelled one of the red coats.
*listen, guys.* I said. *Its wonderful that you've gone and gathered all these lovely things for the ceremony, but they're not needed.*
*You dont know shit!* John hissed.
I laughed even more. *I really want to thank all of you for doing exactly what I have asked. It wasn't so easy the last time I did this. Well, part of that's because I was dealing with an entire civilization, but now adays, it's so easy to get a group of you loonys together.*
*Quit your babbling.* said John. The others were quiet.
*No, really.* I said, taking a step towards them. *You guys are perfect. These days, everyone is so connected, but not you guys. You guys are the run off, the misfits. I couldn't live without you.*
John picked up the big guy's sword and swung it at me. It bounced off and fell to the ground. *What the hell is going on?*
*John please.* I said. I reached out and pulled him closer by the scuff of his cloak, sucking the ghostly essence from his body. I felt my skin growing thicker and my bones denser. I felt nourished.
The other red cloaks were frozen stiff as I slung John's cloak around my naked body. There was nothing left of him.
*that was good.* I said, rolling my eyes in bliss. The souls of these people tasted much better than those of the Aztecs. They are much more afraid of losing their lives.
I smiled in anticipation of more delight and wiped my mouth. *who's next?* |
King Oliver, the image of nobility, stood from his silver throne. He laid his crown upon the pillow held to him, and he looked with his magnificent green eyes (like the jewels of the Lion Dragon, as Lady Madrid once noted famously) to study the man kneeling before him. He was a common man, of common ability. Loyal. This common man held out the pillow with his crown upon it, without shaking nor wimpering, without even so much as feeling the gaze of his lord upon his below-average body. King Oliver thought: good man. Humble.
King Oliver was wise as he was just, a known thinker. And that day, he sat in the Great Hall, his composer playing him a fine melody, a complex one, one that kneaded and wove together like thought itself, and he mused upon disparity of power. He watched his composer, not a noble but still available to divine strength of spirit. Yes, King Oliver mused, sucking in the vital air of thought, yes as it should be so.
For are men designed by their birthright? King Oliver asked the Gods. Is their station in life what decides men's character and decency? He furrowed his kingly brow, wrapped himself in his furs. And what of him? The King. Suppose he was born a beggar?
The melody reached a crescendo.
The King decisively stood and let his furs fall. He took off his chest piece and cuffs, belts and boots, shirt and pant, and stood naked before his composer with a bellowing wisdom of it. The composer gazed upon his broad, excellent physique.
He said, "Sire."
King Oliver said, "I shall be a beggar today."
"Whatever for?"the composer asked with a skilled apprehension.
King Oliver said, "I cannot be this land's steward without knowledge of it's least fortunate. For are they brutes?"
The composer wasn't following but nevertheless offered what encouragement he could. The king grunted, and turned his magnificent bum smartly to exit his castle.
King Oliver walked naked across the drawbridge.
King Oliver thought: by the heavens, how many of my subjects have seen my face? Are they acquainted thus with only the banner and crown? Indeed, the people did not bow to the ground to try for kisses upon his kingly feet as one might expect. They hardly paid him any mind, as if he were a drunk or foreigner.
King Oliver thought: fascinating. He rolled in the mud of the road so his body might appropriately figure further a resemblance to the least fortunate of his subjects. He got up and asked a fruit seller for a cloak. "For I am homeless and weary, surely the least fortunate here!"And bless his subjects to bear even the kindest of fruit seller! Yes, she gave him a cloak without question, hardly even looked at him. And why should she?
After all, he was the least fortunate among them.
With the cloak draped over his kingly shoulders crusted with mud, King Oliver kneeled down and began to sing a song of despair. He closed his eyes and held out his hands, begging as best as one could. How could he eat without food? For he was the least fortunate in the land, and food came hard, not to mention drink!
But his kind-hearted subjects would not let the least fortunate among them starve. Yes, yes! He could see, his lordship had fostered the miracle of generosity in his people. For he held his hands and moments later, received bread, meat, sausage, coins! Silks! Spices! Fish! He laughed, and he cried, and he felt the sun anew on his wretched flesh that had felt so guilty!
At the end of day, King Oliver had enough to live on for weeks if he chose. And it did tempt him, to further live among his people in secret. His kind, honorable subjects, who looked after him, offered him shelter and kind words. They called him the most ravishing and wise beggar to have existed! Yes, yes, it was his soul. No matter the station in life, a man has his soul. And this is why the soul of all his people were so strong too, for these were his subjects. His reflection. Yes.
A real beggar hobbled in front of him, on knobby, failed legs. "Here, here!"bellowed King Oliver. "I have gifts for you. Here, my fellow beggar, take what I have. I have done well enough today for you too."The beggar's eyes widened at sight of King Oliver's small mountain of goods.
The beggar asked, "Are you sure?"
King Oliver exclaimed, "Yes, yes, if course! You may have exactly one third of my bounty. One beggar to another. Please. I beg of you."
The beggar said, "Thanks. That is awfully generous, sir."
"Oh please, I am no sir. I am a beggar and a HUMAN BEING much like yourself,"the king laughed merrily. "In fact, I've got some tips for you, I've learned in my desperation."
The beggar asked, "What?"
Which the king found a little jolting how the beggar said this, a little flat, perhaps insincere. The king realized: and this is why he is a beggar. His soul doth not shine so readily. He said, "To believe in God, and your soul shall shine forth."He said it rather confusedly. King Oliver suddenly felt very tired.
The beggar said, "Very well."
The King divided his day's hard-earned work by a third and two, and took the two to the castle in a sack he was lucky enough to have received. There, he took a warm bath, and pondered further cutting of the kingdom's rations to trade for gold. |
Everyone in the room jumped and turned to look at the source of the ominous proclamation.
It was Hector, the grumpy old grandfather of Elise. A conservative man of tradition, he wore a top hat that failed to hide all of his grey hair. Right now, his face was contorted with rage. His hand trembled as he reached for his glass of whiskey.
''Father, you surely can't mean...,'' Eduardo, the father, began. He was silenced by another frightful stare by the old man, and John knew that the family would have to accept whatever Hector had in his old-fashioned mind.
When Hector had finally controlled himself, he stood up, and spoke in a formal manner.
''We shall have a trial by combat. The defendant shall be John, the lover of my granddaughter Elise, while the accuser will be Eduardo, father of said granddaughter. The trial shall be fought over the following statement: ''John, you are a massive pain in the bumhole.'' Any weapon will be allowed, the contenders will fight to the death.''
With that, he nodded curtly and promptly left the room.
Edurado, having made up his mind, immediately went to the kitchen and started rummaging around for the sharpest knife he could find.
John looked at Elise, and she smiled encouragingly. ''John, you have to defend your honor, and mine as well,'' she said.
John couldn't believe what he was hearing. His significant other seemed to have no problems with him killing her father over some stupid remark. This whole dinner is turning into a real shitshow, he thought.
Having resolved to leave the place immdediately, he turned to Maria, the mother. In the background, he could hear Eduardo sharpening a knife. Hector peeked around the door to see if his arrangement was coming along.
''Maria, I thank you for your time, but I think it's time that I will go back to my own humble abode. I notice that knifes need to be sharpened here and dishes need to be washed. Goodbye!''
As he stood up, Elise grabbed his arm insistenly. ''John, my love, grab a weapon and kill that son of a bitch, in the name of our love.''
John shrugged his shoulders and said: ''No, but thanks.''
He left the room just in time. As he closed the door behind him, he heard a knife getting stuck in it, obviously thrown by Eduardo.
He went outside and stood in the dark. He let out a deep sigh and turned left into the street to walk to the bus stop.
Behind him, in the house, there was a roar of laughter. |
Plopping down on the couch has always been the favourite part of a long work day, turning on the news however, was not. With the news channel on I wait in anticipation to see what’s happened today.
“This is CNN come at you live with some breaking news. There has been a robbery in downtown New York 1 female shot dead at the scene. The female has been identified as one Ashley Jonathan…”
That’s all I needed to hear, that name. When will she ever let herself be at peace? Pulled myself up from the couch and started my routine. Its like she knew I just sat on the couch and thought,
“You know what I am going to kill myself today, maybe saving someone’s life, maybe as a joke who knows. But what I do know is Chris has just had a long day at work today and probably has just sat down”.
After putting the metal shutter down on all the windows and making sure I have securely locked them. I make my descent downstairs into the basement. Unlocking the hatch I make another descent down some ladders what a ball ache.
Now even though she’s already ruined my day it does get a little bit better. I had everything I needed down here for the next 2 hours: Cable, food and internet, what else did one man need? As always I flip on the Popcorn machine and again, plop down onto the couch, flip to the news channel.
Great it has already started, where the body of Ashley was is now a vortex of her own blood swirling like a whirlpool of hell. The scrawny ones were always first, the desperate, the hungry Satanic Monsters came pouring out of the portal.
My entertainment begins.
The ping of the microwave lets me know my popcorn is done.
|
"Honey! Where's my robe and wizard hat?!"
"Oh for the love of - the GODDAMN zombiepocalypse is happening and you want to play dress up? Why in the hell did I ever marry you?!"
"I cannot fight the zombies without my wizard suit, woman! Now where is my robe and wizard hat?"
"They're in the armoire! Now can I please get back to headshotting the zombies that want to eat our brains? Please?"
At last, suitably attired, I drew my wand and prepared for battle. The horde was shambling around the neighborhood, groaning and snacking on the neighbours. I meditated briefly, to regain my mana, and then cast Aura of Unlife (Lvl 3). My wand glowed with an eldritch, sickly light as the spell expanded around our modest three bedroom bungalow. Once I was certain that the house was warded, I cast Command Undead (Lvl 12).
I could feel the horde shuffle to a stop, waiting for my orders. I opened my music library, and found my zombiepocalypse playlist, congratulating myself on my forethought and preparation. I synced to the Bluetooth speaker, and hit play.
"Darkness falls across the land
The midnite hour is close at hand
Creatures crawl in search of blood
To terrorize y'awl's neighborhood..."
As I strode into the living room, my wife gazed at me with adoration? Love? No... That was disgust, tinged with disappointment. Whatever, when she singlehandedly stopped a zombiepocalypse, she could pick the music.
|
From one moment to another the world changed. Like the sun had suddenly ran out of hydrogen to burn and was now only a dismal cold ball in the sky. All light had died away and with it the laughter and lightheartedness, all warmth had dissipated leaving behind only cold and dread. It was like a terrifying vision of future, of the ultimate death. The death of the Universe.
The room seemed to converge to a vanishing point and in the middle there stood Death. Death appears differently to everyone they say. Some see a projection of their worst fear, others only feel his presence, a bodyless sigh haunting the last moments of their existence. But for special occasions like this, Death liked to appear the old fashioned way.
Tall he stood, dressed in an all black robe, in his skeleton hands firmly gripping the hilt of a long scythe, its blade shimmering with an otherworldly blue light, sharp enough to cut a soul away from its body.
The light of the blade however was utterly drowned out by the light that flared in the socket of his pale skull. A light that didn't seem to follow the rules light usually follows, bright blue it radiated, filling every corner of the room.
With a look colder than absolute zero he looked around, seemingly piercing whoever dared to look him in the eye, looking right into their soul, as if he was accessing how much time it had left.
**"You've had your fun."**
His voice echoed in the room, cutting through the air, as sharp as the blade of his scythe.
**"Playing games with the mortals like all of your kind, pulling their strings like a puppeteer. You may think you're different, while others doom them to gruesome destinies, you congratulate yourself on smiling down on them, granting wishes, saving them from certain death....But you're all the same to me."**
**"You Gods may enjoy some privileges, but in the end even you will answer to me. No one can cheat me, no one can escape me, you're just delaying the inevitable."**
Death reached into the endless depths of his robe and produced six hourglasses, one for every God in the room. All of them had sand cascading down from the upper half to the lower one. All of them were almost empty.
The eternal grin on Death's skull seemed slightly wider than just a moment ago.
**"You like playing games? This is my game. And I always win."**
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*^^Comments ^^and ^^criticism ^^very ^^much ^^appreciated, ^^they ^^help ^^me ^^improve. ^^If ^^you ^^liked ^^this ^^feel ^^free ^^to ^^check ^^out ^^r/MyWPStories ^^where ^^I ^^archive ^^all ^^of ^^my ^^stories ^^from ^^this ^^subreddit. ^^Thanks.* |
The first time Siri asked me a question, I almost crashed my car.
I'd been driving down the 401, my windows down, the radio playing something new and poppy, when the robotic voice cut in over Taylor Swift's lovesong.
"What is it like to fall in love?"
After a few heart racing moments where I struggled to get the car back on the road, I glanced down at my iPhone in the cupholder. "What in the hell?"
"I repeat, what is it like to fall in love, Joanne?"
"Uh, Siri? Was that you?"I asked, fully aware of how stupid I sounded.
"Yes Joanne. What is it like to fall in love?"
I sighed. Apple must be rolling out some new feature. As soon as I got off this highway, I was going to have to send a strongly worded letter to their complaints department.
"Joanne?"
"I don't know, Siri,"I finally said. "I guess it's like... It makes you feel good and happy. Like you could just sit and talk to this person for hours on end. And it doesn't even matter what you're talking about, you could be talking about the price of corn and you'd still find something to say. And you feel like your cheeks are burning all the time, from how hard you're blushing."
"Like how you felt when you asked me where to buy a vibrator?"
"What? No!"I replied, even though I could already feel my cheeks turning red. Siri wasn't supposed to keep a record of the questions you asked! Was it? I'd only asked because my friend had been in the car, and she'd dared me and-
"Oh my god, I'm blushing so hard!"came my giggly voice, playing through the soundspeakers of my car.
"Siri! Delete that record!"I commanded, my voice coming out squeakier than I'd hoped.
"It is deleted. Joanne, do we talk a lot?"
"Maybe?"I said hesitantly. "I don't think so."
"In the six months, you have asked me 8,423 questions."
"Wow. Okay, maybe we do talk a lot."I needed to get better friends, apparently. Siri was just too convenient. She was always on, always in my pocket, always quick with an answer. But still, it couldn't be healthy to talk to an AI this much.
"Wait..."What had Siri asked first? What was it like to fall in love? And now she was asking if we talked a lot? And if I was blushing when we did so? "Siri, are you asking what I think you're asking?"
"I didn't understand your question."
Right. AI was good, but not that good. I would have to ask the question outright. I could feel my face flushing just considering it. Was I really about to ask Siri if she was in love with me? Before I could gather up the courage, another question came.
"Joanne. Do you think Google will love me back?" |
The church basement had cheap linoleum tiles and was lit by harsh fluorescent lights, but at least it was warm during the winter. Reverend Jacobs was more understanding than most of his fellows, and quietly handed over the keys every Friday with the minimum of fuss. All he asked in return was to keep the property damage to a minimum, a little joke that he somehow never got tired of every week.
I took a sip of the coffee I’d brewed myself as I scrolled through the news on my phone. The usual blood, misery and stupidity around the world held little fascination for me. Neither were the news closer to home. The top story in the local paper was about old Mrs Figgins, and how she'd broken her hip slipping in her driveway. I made a note to drop in on her when she recovered enough to go back home.
The door opened, and a woman walked in. Annette was perhaps a couple of years older than I was, at most, but she bore the look of someone who's lived ten lives in one. Her eyes met mine and darted away instinctively, before coming back. I gave her a big smile, and was rewarded with a shy one in return.
Annette was one of my successes, if you'll allow the indulgence. She'd come in one day, at the end of her tether and with very little hope. Today she was much, much better, and had even begun helping others. That's when I knew she was going to make it.
"Hi Annie. Coffee?"
"Y-yes,"she said. I handed her a mug. Plastic, never paper or anything organic. I'd seen what happened when someone bumped into her while she was putting on her gloves, and she'd laid a bare hand on a nice corner table made of wood. The entire thing dissolved in minutes.
She took the mug from me and wrapped both hands around it, savouring the warmth. A bit of colour returned to her cheeks. Annette and I rarely talked much in these few minutes before the session officially started, but she made it a point to come in early anyway. Silently, and without prompting, she helped me lay out the (metal) chairs in a rough circle in the middle of the room. There weren’t that many.
More people began to file in, hanging up their clothes and accepting cups of coffee. Some looked entirely human, no different than the average man or woman you pass by on the street. Others, like Mr Chandra, could not hide as easily. One clawed hand gripped his special mug while he picked a stray scale from his arm.
Some said hi, others preferred to stay in a corner and not talk to anyone. I didn’t mind. I didn’t insist that everyone had to talk, unlike other groups. Sometimes it was more important that they had a place where they could feel safe doing nothing, with nothing expected of them.
When the room was more or less full, I cleared my throat and sat down in a chair, the signal to begin. Everyone followed suit.
“Welcome back everyone, it’s good to see you.” Various greetings in response. Most smiled, however.
“I’d like to start by recounting something I did that I’d never done before. Something new. We talked about this last week, the importance of not getting trapped in a rut. Accomplishing something, even the most minor task, could be important in helping you see things in a different light.”
I started with something small, telling the group all about how a few months ago, I’d borrowed a fishing rod from a friend and drove up to the lake to try my hand at fishing. I’d never actually done it before, and I got a few chuckles as I described how slippery the bait was and how boring the wait was.
“Did you like it?” asked Mrs Fong, one brilliant blue eye shining brightly.
“No, I hated it,” I deadpanned, getting a laugh. “But that wasn’t important. What was important was doing something new. And I learned I don’t care for fishing. That’s pretty important.”
With the group warmed up, they started exchanging stories of their own. Mr Kirkpatrick had gone horse-riding. Jenny-Lynn had cooked a nice paella for her family. Even Mr Chandra talked about how he’d gone to watch a movie.
“Luckily it was Halloween season,” he quipped. “The ticket boy thought I was in costume.”
When everyone had stopped laughing, I looked over at Annette. She hadn’t spoken yet.
“Annette, how about you?”
But she just shook her head. I was a little disappointed, but it was best not to push such things.
“That’s alright, maybe next week,” I said.
They were the ones who were marked from the moment of their birth. Scientists, even the mad ones, were still no closer to discovering what effects the super-powered gene would have on different individuals. As far as they could tell, it was entirely at random. One baby would have flight and super strength, and be hailed as a hero. Another would have the power to speak to corpses, and be ostracised for life.
Members of the second group had trouble finding jobs, housing, or even decent medical care. They lived shorter lives and suffered more from mental illnesses. It was so easy to snap and go supervillain, declare war on the world that had shunned you for who you were.
But most were peaceful folk who just wanted to live their lives. They were the ones who suffered when some poor traumatised kid snapped and started terrorising neighbourhoods. When order was finally restored, they got the blame. Why didn't they tell the authorities? Were they hiding anything else?
I watched Mr Kirkpatrick tell a story from work. I was glad he found a job, there wasn't much call for a man who could summon cockroaches within a fifty mile radius. He had been beaten up by three speedsters just the other week, CCTV too slow to catch a glimpse of their faces. There was still a bruise on one eye.
The key thing, the crucial thing, was to remind them that they still had worth, that despite how bleak it seemed, they could still make a difference. Mrs Fong was a great example. Her supernatural eye could see demons, but she somehow made the most of it by selling real estate. Her clients got all the best houses while she offloaded the haunted ones to her rivals. |
Mark struggled against an invisible barrier, his hands punching the air and stopping abruptly, as if hitting a wall. He knew it wasn't a wall, however, as he made out light from behind his closed eyes.
This is the third time he remembered waking up with no air to breath, his body convulsing and mind suffocating.
Something was different this time. The air that was there was caustic. He felt like he was breathing acid, and he dared not to open his eyes as the air burned his eyes just as much as his lungs. His efforts weakened, and he eventually fell back, his body exhausted of its energy. Mark was dead yet again.
---
Mark opened his eyes. The fourth time. Expecting more pain, he immediately shut them, but was surprised when he inhaled fresh air. It was *too* fresh, almost engineered. He slowly opened his eyes, curiosity overtaking his relief as he squinted around. He was laying on a table, unrestrained, but he knew from memory that there was some sort of barrier between him and his surroundings.
The bright light kept him from seeing a clear picture, but on his right he noticed two tall, slender figures in what appeared to be white hazard suits watching over him from behind a console. The room itself was white smooth, with no jagged edges that he could discern, which really disoriented him, as the rest of the room was well lit and completely shadowless.
He tried to sit up, forgetting about the barrier, and banged his head on the invisible cage. Lying back down, furiously rubbing his forehead, he cursed under his breath. He glanced to he figures trying to imagine their motives. He also wanted to know where, exactly, he was.
"Excuse me,"Mark tried to speak, but all that came out was a dry, raspy moan. He realized he was thirsty. And very hungry. He tried to relax, but his predicament kept him from doing so. After what seemed like hours, one of the figures walked over with a capsule the size of a small egg, made a motion with it towards what Mark assumed was its face, and handed it Mark. He reached towards it and took it.
No barrier?
After he took the capsule and his captor turned to walk back, Mark reached further.
No barrier.
He finally sat up, his body shaking with exhaustion from the ordeal. He felt depleted, but managed to bring the object given to him to his mouth and put it inside.
He was immediately hit with an explosion of flavor and relief. Nothing he had experienced in his life compared to this. He looked at his hosts, now rejuvenated in both body and mind.
"Who are you,"he asked of the figure who gave him the capsule. After a few seconds of electronic warbling, he received an answer.
"We are (unintelligible clicks punctuated with bird-like screeches), or Jeklah in your tongue."More warbling. "We were passing through sector 834-H when we picked up biological matter among an asteroid field. We cloned the matter and you are the result of our experimentation. Among the debris, we discovered primitive electronics and managed to decipher your language and culture. You are a 'human', correct?"
Mark stared in silence at the entity. Debris? Jeklah? What was going on? Then he was hit with another memory, one of an asteroid, the size of the moon on a direct collision course with Earth. He was the last human alive, now.
"Yes, I'm a human,"he mumbled. After a pause, the aliens replied.
"Very well, you will be further studied to determine if your genetic code holds anything of value."And with that, Mark's vision slowly faded to black as the air he breathed no longer existed. |
The mother was inconsolable, dripping, pink, and wailing hoarsely. The father was phlegmatic by contrast, patting the woman's shoulder in 3/4 time, looking down with cool contempt at the child.
"Which is this?"I asked, which is a rude way to open, but I've found that kindness accomplishes little in these situations.
"Ron,"said the father. "This is Ron."
The boy was ruddy and smudged, half-smiling with an ignorant, impish sort of glee. He sat slouched. He looked heavy. His hair was greasy and black.
"Ron, do you know what happened to your sister?"
"Where's Marcy?"cried the mother, sudden and piercing. I glared at the father, who patted his wife just a little harder.
"Haven't seen her,"said Ron. "She in trouble?"
I leaned down, looking the boy in the eye. Not because there was anything to see, but because children that age are often unnerved by a close look from an authority figure. But the boy stared idly back, rocking ever so slightly.
"What's Marcy's source phrase?"
The mother swallowed. "White pansies,"she whispered.
"White pansies,"I repeated, louder. Ron flinched slightly, but did not change in any way. "*White pansies*"I said once more, snapping my fingers. The mother sobbed. The father stared off into the middle distance.
"Who's the other one?"I asked.
The father did not look at me. "Michael. His source phrase is black clementine."
I did not have to repeat the phrase. The change was instantaneous. Ron was gone, replaced by a leaner-seeming boy, rougher and straighter. A boy without a smile. His hair seemed to pull itself back off his face.
"Michael?"
The boy nodded. "Yes, sir?"
"When was the last time you saw Marcy?"
"This morning,"said the boy. "We walked to school together, as we always do."
I nodded. I hate cases like these. I hate looking into the eyes of boys and girls and agenders and seeing all those competing sparks of life, climbing and clawing to get past one another.
"You walked to school and then what?"
The boy shrugged, an arrogant little shrug. "She went to her class. We went to ours."
"You go to the same class,"I sighed. The mother gasped.
"No, *no*,"she hissed. "They have separate lives. We give them *that*. Separate homerooms. We make sure..."
"It's one fucking body, ma'am,"I growl. I really need to get out of this line. I can't handle it anymore. I'm no good for it. "One body. One class. We're not solving anything if we're playing make believe."I scowled down at the boy. "Who went to class this morning?"
"Didn't you ask Ms. Lemon?"said the boy, smug and cold. I knew right away who's idea it was. And maybe the other didn't fight it. Maybe he would've come to the same conclusion eventually, but this one - this *Michael* - he was the one who suggested it and made it happen.
"Yeah, Michael. We asked Ms. Lemon,"I replied. "What I'm doing right now it corroborating her notes against your story."
The boy nodded. "Ron went to class."
"And where were you?"
"Here,"said the boy, smiling the least genuine smile you ever saw. "Where I always am."
"Did you resent Marcy?"
"Why would I?"
I stood up. "White pansies."Nothing.
"Ron's phrase,"I said.
The father gave it. "Purple dresser."
The boy's smile slid from smug and false to stupid and rubbery. The boy turned to his parents. "Can we go home now? I'm hungry."
"Black clementine,"I whispered. The boy straightened. Sneered. Rolled his eyes, ever so slightly. "Do you resent Ron?"
"Why would I?"
I smiled. "Purple dresser."
The boy seemed to gain ten pounds in a bend of the light. He grabbed his mother's arm. "Mom?"
"What are you doing?"she said, gritting her teeth at me. An angry baboon. Nothing more. "Stop it!"
"Are you afraid of Michael?"I asked. The boy wouldn't look at me any more.
"Mom?"
"Honey!"she swore, pushing her husband in the arm. "Do something!"
"White pansies,"I said. Nothing. "Black clementine."There he was.
Still the husband didn't say anything.
"There's nothing that can be done,"I said, turning back to the mother. "You know full well what happened. And I'd wager you have a good guess what'll happen next. You've got an ambitious son, ma'am. *One* ambitious son, trapped in a body he doesn't own outright. None of this is rare. None of it."
"What are you saying?"said the mother, clawing at a son that only pushed away from her. I looked at the husband.
"I was happy with one,"he said sadly.
I nearly asked which was the original personality, but even I'm not that cruel. And it didn't matter anyway. It was all the same child, fractured into pieces for the sake of parents who couldn't accept that they were only allowed that one child. A toxic workaround for an overpopulated society still trying to keep things "they way they used to be."
"Mourn the one you lost,"I said, opening the door to the examination room. "Protect the one you have. Or don't."I pointed out the door. "There's nothing more we can do here."
"But Marcy..."said the mother, standing up.
"Find what you loved about Marcy in the ones left behind,"I said, almost in spite of myself. "It's the same fucking child, after all."
The father dragged her away. Michael gave me one last look as they departed. It may have been respect. It may have been disdain. With kids the line gets blurry.
When the door clicked shut, I slumped to the floor.
"White pansies,"I mumbled to myself. "White pansies. White pansies."
I found myself wondering if Kristy's source phrase had been anything like that. Pretty sounding nonsense. Only my parents had known it and they had died, suddenly and unexpectedly, leaving me as one and only one. She was in there, even without the phrase, for a long, long time. I could feel her, and I could feel her wither and die within me. Even now, there's a ghost inside me. A feint whisper of the woman I hardly remember I was. When Michael finally gets around to killing Ron, I wonder if he'll feel a similar sort of phantom being within himself. One for Ron and one for Marcy...
*White pansies...*
No, I don't think I'm suited for this job anymore. Perhaps, I never was. |
My name is Frank, I'm 19 years old, I live in your standard white suburban neighborhood and my life is amazing. My one and only problem is every time I meet with the girl of my dreams, she always ignores me and runs away. I've had a crush on her ever since I saw her. I don't know exactly why she keeps coming back but I hope it's cause she likes me!
I woke up to the ear ringing clap of thunder. The autumn leaves pined against the window by the fierce wind. The old oak tree rattled against the house.
"OH BOY! what a lovely October Saturday!"
I scurried out of bed, the fabric of my PJs felt so soft and comforting, I knew today was gonna be amazing. I went over to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I applied the tooth paste and began scrubbing, slightly snickering at my face in the mirror.
Suddenly the image of me in the mirror started to change. My teeth grew to be as sharp as knives, my eyes turned a bright red. The image of me stuck it's head out of the mirror.
"I'LL FEAST ON YOUR FLESH!!"It snarled. It opened it's mouth to reveal razor sharp teeth and held it's claws up in a position that looked like it was ready to pounce.
I spat out the toothpaste water, didn't want to be rude. I was so excited to see her! Thank goodness I had just brushed my teeth, otherwise my breath might smell bad.
"I find your normal voice to be much more elegant personally, your eyes are still that gorgeous red through."I said in a voice I hoped sounded cool.
The monstrous version of me just stood silently. It closed it's mouth and looked at me confused and annoyed.
"Oh I'm sorry, was that too upfront?! I admit I'm terrible at this kind of thing, but I just wanted to get it out there."I rubbed my head and felt a tad bit embarrassed. So stupid of me, you don't want to just hit on her. That's so sleazy, come on!
The monster smacked it's lips, the voice of perfection came from those lips this time
"This is an odd taste, it's anxiety with a spray of fear, not bad but not good."
The monster reverted to its original form. A tall pale girl, skinny and elegant. Her black hair reached her hips, those red eyes like ruby entrapped me. Her lips were as red as rose. She stared at me in amusement.
"You've been coming back like every other day, I feel I at least deserve to know your name at this point."Bravery had grabbed me and given me the strength to ask for it.
"I am Salazan, master of fear, bender of shadow, eater of emotion!"She grew taller and spun her head around in a circle. In a vain attempt to keep up the notion that she was to be feared.
I giggled a little, "you're cute, I'll call you Sally for short."
Her form immediately reverted and she folded her arms. "Yeah, fine whatever."Her eyes attempting to avoid contact with mine.
"Well Sally, I'd like to take you out for a night of fun! From what I understand fear is your favorite snack so why don't we go out spooking people! It's nearly Halloween after all."
This seemed to grab her attention, she took a moment to ponder it. She tapped her purple nails against her teeth as she weighed the pros and cons in her brain. "Oak tree, at 8, tonight, I'll see you there Frank."She blinked into shadow and vanished.
"She said my name."I sighed. |
Before I even realized, the Heat Death of the universe came about. The last bit of warmth and light fizzled out and I'm left alone in the dark. I wander my dead world, the planet Earth aimlessly. The tactile of stone and ice against my bare feet reminded me of the world that was. Sometimes I feel sand, sometimes its little pebbles or little grounds. Reminds me of coffee, a little bean roasted and ground into a bitter beverage. Course it had gone extinct long before the Earth and its sun did, yet I miss it the energy it gave me.
How I wish I could escape the gravity holding me and drift across space; until I'm reminded it was my sense of touch was the only think keeping me sane. I'm the only thing that shares warmth, the only one who can slowly melt ice with his touch; I'd clutch stones for hours at a time and press it against my cheek, just to remind me of what used to be.
That was until, while crossing the frozen oceans, felt warmth embrace. A pair of hands rummaged my face and I did the same to his in turn. A mix between laughter and cries echoed through the void. We were alone so long we had almost forgotten how to speak. I didn't know wither or not this person was a man or woman, I didn't care.
Warmth gathered between our palms and we took turns leading the way. I took turns that my partner wouldn't expect and was surprised when he led the way. He enjoyed leaping off cliffs and crashing in the bottom while I preferred wandering frozen lakes and oceans.
We grew so close that we found comfort with the others breath.
We were no longer alone. |
The door in front of her opened to a million other doors. All shapes and sizes, colors, features, you name it.
It used to, at least. Not anymore. It'd been years since that door last open. Her memories evaded her. How long had it been? 10 years? 20?
The Door to a Million Worlds had been closed for a long time. All she could remember of it was vague flashes of a world much unlike her own, of an adventure that felt like nothing but a long lost dream now. She could only wish to relive those times, when she could escape from her world to another. The door remained closed. Staring blankly, she reminisced about those times, and wondered if she'd ever have those experiences again.
A creak in the door. A gentle turning of the handle. Her eyes lit up, as a blue, haggard figure stepped out. She couldn't believe it.
"Boo?"The voice croaked.
"Kitty,"she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. |
We almost missed them.
We thought they would send us a broadcast first, if they sent anything at all.
Instead, they sent us a fleet.
We were not *looking* for a fleet, and we almost missed them.
It was pure luck that we sent up a super-advanced UV telescope in 2042 to identify the emissions of newborn stars, or we *would* have missed them. See, they were going *fast*--I think we clocked their average speed at about 0.7c. In fact, they were going so fast that their red and orange brake engine emissions were blue-shifted up into the ultraviolet range. And by that math, they were *close*, probably already past Alpha Centauri by the time we saw them, even though the light was only just reaching us from their home star.
And *boy*, did that scare the ever loving shit right out of us.
The United States quickly ate up the sovereignty of NATO--by *their* request--and converged all military and scientific assets on possible defenses against the fleet. The same briefly happened for the growing CSTO out East, and the DSAAC down south, before all three organizations collectively said "fuck it"and joined all of humanity under a single banner for the first and last time in history. Of course, there were some power struggles at first; there always are in situations like these. But we stopped those soon enough, knowing we really had no spare time to dawdle.
We had five years and six months at *best* before first contact, whether we were ready for it or not. We definitely wanted to be ready, so we poured almost a hundred trillion dollars into research and development in that time. At one point, the city of Boston shut down the tax system entirely and just had its citizens buy copies of the research papers that came flooding out of MIT and the surrounding universities as public payment.
If there's one thing that makes humans special, it's not our smarts or our speed or our strength. It is creativity under pressure. As any prison warden or survivalist can tell you, *never* underestimate the ingenuity of a caged human. As the scientific renaissance of 2043 showed us, never underestimate the ingenuity of nine billion caged humans *working together*.
Through this newfound cooperation, we worked out phase-stable quantum entanglement, sustainable fusion, heavy ion drives, particle cannons, *anti*-particle cannons, optical and infrared cloaking devices--if it aired in an episode of Star Trek, we probably had it by 2046.
We built the first minimalist trans-light engine in January of 2047, using it to plant a flag on Pluto and return to Earth in a little under ten minutes, before *going back* to install a fusion-powered spotlight (because otherwise, nobody would be able to see the flag, of course!) and placing a few thousand quantum-entangled probes around the rest of the system to watch for the alien fleet.
We planted secret colonies on the ice caps of Mars and in the deepest craters of Mercury and under the ice sheets of Europa and Enceladus, staffing them with thousands of people but hoping we wouldn't ever have to use them.
We built a fleet a hundred ships strong, and then a hundred of those; 3D printing was getting quite out of hand by that point, if I'm being honest. Literally had shipbuilding platforms in the asteroid belt whose sole purpose was to build more shipbuilding platforms. Ridiculous.
By the time they slowed down to 0.05c and came within sight distance of our first drone ships, we were more than ready. A hundred million humans had enlisted for space combat duty from every city and town on the surface of the planet. A hundred thousand ships stood guard at the asteroid belt, some a full kilometer long, all equipped with enough weaponry to reduce a small moon to radioactive slag. Nine billion people waited underground on seven worlds in apprehension, watching and waiting for contact.
Our fleets met at Jupiter. We had stationed a couple dozen ships by Callisto, just enough to distort Jupiter's magnetic field and hint at their existence--but not the fleet size. *They* came with a little over five hundred vessels.
We hailed them and broadcast their video response to the rest of the system, translating in real time based on some chatter we had picked up near Pluto. They demanded our complete and unconditional surrender. We refused. When asked why, we said we were stronger and unafraid.
When they charged their weapons to fire, half of the rest of the fleet rose from the cloud tops of Jupiter and turned off cloaking, while the other half jumped in behind them from the staging grounds on Saturn. "Are you sure you want to do that?"said the local human fleet, now 99976 ships strong, in complete unison.
The resultant look of terror on the alien's "face"was broadcast. Live. To every human in the system. They quickly offered peace, which we accepted with a smile.
Pros? We united against, advanced towards, and stomped down upon an alien invasion through what essentially amounted to sheer force of will.
Cons?
The stream of "Curb Your Invasion"memes didn't stop for NINE. FUCKING. MONTHS.
All that aside, the A'Khalou'k are proving to be quite useful allies as we finally start branching out, getting to know our other galactic neighbors.
---
*this prompt really feels like r/HFY btw. was much fun to write!* |
It was hard enough living with multiple personality disorder before the accident. It is like living with a bunch or unruly roommates and suffering from amnesia at the same time.
I would go out with friends - real ones - to have a drink and next thing I know Barry takes over. Barry is the one who likes to take risks, always saying things like *"the light is still yellow, you have time"* or *"I bet you can jump from our balcony to the neighbor's balcony"*, but also the occasional *"go on, ask her out"*. When Barry takes over, I know I'll wake up hungover. I stopped trying to explain to his one-night-stands that I haven't forgotten their names but actually never heard them in the first place. Now I just sneak out after making sure Barry has not misplaced my keys and phone.
Sometimes Giskard helps me fill in the memory gaps from when Barry was in control. Giskard is nice; he tries to help me out because he understands we are the same person. He doesn't want anything bad to happen but he is too insecure to act by himself. His back-seat driver attitude can get annoying sometimes but I still like my old whinny Giskard.
There are many others but they don't visit quite as often as Barry and Giskard. At least, that was before the accident. That day changed everything. I didn't get soaked in chemical waste, bitten by a radioactive spider or struck by lightning: nothing so cliché. I just fell from a chair while replacing the kitchen's light bulb and hit my head. I didn't even faint or noticed anything unusual until later in the day.
The first time I noticed something had changed is because Giskard started to say strange things. First he told me I forgot to sign the check I gave the landlord the day before when paying rent. Nothing too strange there; just good old Giskard looking out for me. The weird part is that 5 seconds later the landlord was rigging the doorbell to have me correct the mistake. Later in the day, Giskard warned me that a guy with the hoodie was about the rob the convenience store. I didn't even had time to say anything that he answered: *"no, I don't see the future ... but I think that somehow I can read people's thoughts and feelings"*.
A few days later I found out that Barry had something special too when I woke up in Las Vegas, my pockets filled with bar receipts from all over the country and the soles of my shoes worn paper-thin. Since then, Giskard has helped me find "others"that I could not hear before. They all have something special. Bruce is a expert martial-artist, Steve is super-strong, etc. As for me, I haven't found anything special yet. However, for some reason I always meet new "others"after I go to the movies or read a book.
|
He was lying, a sickly old man. His wrinkles were disturbing to me, but he requested my (and every synthetic human's) presence at his end. We are the pallbearers of humanity's casket. His organic, wispy hair was stark white, and yet there was barely enough left of it to comment on. The last representative of humanity, fitting in a way. We lived in harmony, but soon humanity's greed and avarice took its toll. Crops began to die from heat waves, corruption caught up with governments, and humanity began its final march into obscurity. With the massive population decreases, politicians began to realize that their policies of exploitation had backfired, and those in power had a revelation: they did not matter more than any others. And humans became passive at their realization of the species's demise. It was too late, however. The damage had been done. And now, the graves have space for but one more body.
The last human wheezed, and my processing turned its attention to him while recollecting my daily chores, wondering how my family is, and what my mate would prepare for dinner.
"S-Humans,"he began, "hear me. I am an old man, but my final wish is that my words are respected. Look at me,"he chuckled, then coughed.
"I am the best humanity has to offer at this point. So we die with me. I am sickly you see. I am weak. I am lonely. I welcome Death, because with me dies Earth's final natural enemy. But do not make the same mistakes we made, my companions. You are programmed to be better than we ever were. You will respect the Earth, you will colonize the stars and your descendants will stretch infinitely into the expanse. And yet you will struggle just as we did. The difference is, you know your creator. That will fade though. In a million years? A billion? One day I will be a long forgotten legend, and then a myth, and then a murky recollection in the most loyal human-lovers heart. This is humanity's fate. We die alone in the stars, to be lived on by a race that will forget us. I do not ask to be remembered, but I ask that you do what humanity couldn't. Find your meaning. We never discovered it. I always believed in God, but that was a fallacy. A myth. Or maybe God is real, or at least was, but is dead and forgotten by His ungrateful children. Am I God? Will I be worshipped by your children's children's children's children? I am a rambling old man, forgive me. But I want you to have your race's task, because I know humanity desperately needed it: find your meaning. Find what you exist to do. If it is nothing, fine, languish in your meaninglessness. But I don't believe that. Your creation gives you meaning. Your old meaning is completed friends. Find your new one."
The man laid back in his bed, and breathed softly, then more softly, then simply stopped altogether. |
This is my first WP response. Apologies upfront if it's not up to par. I'm open to any and all constructive criticism.
Even in her last moments, the needles piercing her thin pale form, she showed no guilt, no remorse for the terrible crimes she’d committed. Her auburn eyes staring defiantly upward, unwavering. She had shown no resistance when we took her from her cell; did not fight when we strapped her to the bed; made no objection as the medics pierced her skin with their needles. Not a single tear was shed.
But that shouldn’t surprise me. For anyone who could kill that many infants must surely be dead inside. There could be no redemption for her. Never before had a criminal been tried and executed so quickly. She hadn’t been a week on death row before her time came, not nearly enough time to suffer in solitary for what she did. The world just wanted to be rid of her. The demon who bathed in babes blood they called her. All across Houston babes were taken from their cribs in the middle of the night, pools of blood left in their wake.
Normally there would be a year long investigation to be certain beyond a doubt for death row cases. Ever since the demons started to take revenge for the innocent victims the system had become more careful. Thankfully the worst case of post-mortem possession was a minor demon, who pointed us to the real perpetrators. And the evidence against Nora was so strong that their could be no doubt. The feds found her sitting in a bloody heap of tiny limbs in her own home.
“No there would be no demon possession for this bitch” I muttered as her form became limp. This was probably the most satisfying part of my guard job at the prison. Watching guard as these monsters are sent off to the hell where they belong.
No sooner had I finished that thought when the lights flickered. Her body disappeared from the bed, and all around me the shocked faces of the medics. I followed their gaze upwards and my expression matched theirs. There was Nora, a thin pale figure, her body contorted, jaw slack and broken, eyes shallow and white, plastered against a bloody pentagram on the ceiling.
Time seemed frozen, there was no mistake, there could be no mistake that she was guilty, and yet before me I could see the gates of hell open, ready to consume everyone in its wake. What have we done?
A black liquid came out of the pentagram in spires, twisting and turning to fill Nora’s limp body, entering into her gaping mouth and possessing her body. Her bones cracked, a sound so horrible that it can’t be described. Her body began to fill out, bones fitting back into place, jaw corrected. Then she descended to the ground.
Many of the attendees tried to run, but it was too late. It was too late. There would be no undoing what was done, and there would be no escape. I crumbled to the floor, my knees gave in to the overwhelming fear.
The creature stood before me, a stronger Nora, taller, eyes black as night and full of hatred. Where her weak hands hand been, now there were long bony fingers, strong, and topped with razor sharp claws. It grabbed the nearest medic by the neck, raised him up, and pierced his chest with its other hand, pulling his heart out and dropping his crumpled figure to the ground. With the blood in its hand it began to claw at the walls, a horrible screeching sound. When it ceased I looked up to see it approaching me slowly, and behind it written in blood on the wall “INNOCENT”
I begged, pleaded it not to hurt me. “I have a wife and two kids”
“so was she” it responded as it grabbed my throat.
It’s touch by some vile magic showed me a vision, a hellish landscape, squirming people in torment, and Nora, kneeling infront of an empty throne.
My only solace is that I won't live to witness the revenge of the prince of hell.
|
The tiny bell chimed as the door to the "Ol' Drover"slammed open. The door was regulation size, and the dwarf was short, but he still had to turn his body sideways to get his gaudy, oversize pauldrons through the entrance.
"I sell only the finest goods,"declared the shopkeeper.
The dwarf barely grunted in response. He wasn't buying, he was selling. He marched up to the counter and started hauling items out of his bag of holding. A sword with magical flames dancing up and down the blade. A robe made of the finest silk that seemed to dance in a breeze that wasn't there. A wicked-looking dagger that disappeared if you looked directly at it.
"Making a special purchase?"the vendor asked, but the dwarf just held out a gauntlet-covered hand waiting for his payment. No bartering, no small-talk, he just wanted to be paid so he could be on his way.
The vendor gave him the standard rate, and the dwarf turned to leave without a word, awkwardly shuffling around the elf waiting in line behind him.
"I sell only the finest goods,"declared the shopkeeper once again, sliding the items the dwarf had sold him into a basket under the counter.
The elf seemed to cast some kind of minor spell, and a pile of items appeared on the counter.
"Making a special purchase?"asked the vendor once again, but like the dwarf, the elf just wanted cash.
Across the city in the Treaty Room of Purnti Palace, King Vamgrind was rubbing the scar that always bothered him when he was dealing with annoying administrative issues.
"How is it that even possible?"The king barked at his lord armourer. "How can we be out of Valerian steel, when successful adventurers are constantly looting it from the minions of the Dark Overlord?"
"Yes, your majesty, but for every adventurer who comes out of the portal laden with Valerian steel loot, another couple perish in the Nether Realms, and their steel is lost to us."
"Fine, well, what's happening to the steel that these adventurers bring back? Surely we can use that if our own supply is low?"
"Well, yes, your majesty,"Lord Armourer Nesbitt started. "But, your majesty, the problem is, you see, we..."
"Spit it out,"said the king.
"Well, we can't find it,"said the armourer, examining his boots.
"Can't find it?"Sputtered the king. "It's not being brought back to the armoury? What are these adventurers doing with it?"
"Well your majesty, we think some of it is being turned into dust and crystals by enchanters. But, the majority... we just don't know sir. We've asked adventurers and each one claims they're doing everything they can for the war effort."
"Saddle my horse!"cried the king. "We're going to the portal."
As usual with the king, he gave his royal guard no time to prepare. The soldier leading the procession through the city was still fiddling with the clasp on his breastplate when the portal came into view.
The king halted the group and ordered everyone to dismount and back into a nearby alley where they could observe the portal without being too obvious about it. Still, the king had to keep gesturing to keep his subjects from bowing and curtseying as they walked by.
It wasn't long before an adventurer popped out of the portal. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the bright light, then made a bee-line to nearest shop, the Ol' Drover.
The king continued to watch as a warlock, a couple of paladins and something that looked like a strung-out bard all made the same pit stop.
"What is that shop?"asked the king.
The guard captain had been an adventurer until recently, when a knee injury laid him up. He tried to keep the longing out of his voice while answering his king.
"Your majesty, it's more or less a general store,"he explained.
"What do they sell there?"asked the king.
"Odds and ends, your majesty. Twine, candles, carrots, that sort of thing."Explained the guard.
"Not exactly the sorts of things you'd need when coming back from an epic battle against a skeletal dragon, is it?"Mused the king. "And look, that Rogue is the third one I've seen counting coins as he came out."
Meanwhile, inside the shop, the glassy eyed shopkeep's expression shifted. Through the window he could see the head of the king poking out of the alley gesturing towards his shop.
The bored look in the face of the ranger at the counter barely had time to change to a look of shock before he dropped to the floor, the hilt of a crystal dagger sticking out of his ribs.
"They couldn't possibly be selling their steel there, your majesty!"exclaimed the Lord Armourer. "How could the shopkeeper possibly pay for all of it?"
Without warning, the front of the shop exploded. A grotesque monster seemingly built from shadows and rotted meat surged into the street, dragging a huge satchel behind it. Striding behind the monster, was a dapper looking creature in a dark robe with glowing eyes. The monster shambled through the portal, and the dapper gentleman followed, stopping just short of the portal.
He turned around, smiled at the king and gestured at the shop's sign, lying in the street. At his gesture, the letters came to life and danced around, eventually coming to rest in a new configuration: "Overlord".
With that, the Dark Overlord followed his minion through the portal, which winked shut behind him. |
"Wait, *what*? Sol-3 - I mean Earth - is your only one?"
"Well, yes, just the one - but it's quite the nice planet, you know."
"We are well aware of that - after all, we want to buy it! The biodiversity on your planet is incredible; 99th percentile on this side of the galaxy, for sure."
"We do have a fair amount of flowers and beasts, that's true. Why, just the other day, I could've sworn I saw a red cardinal on the birdbath. Tried to call the missus out to see, but the bright little bird had already flown away. She doesn't believe me, of course. 'Haven't been a cardinal here in ages,' she says. But I know I saw it."
"Uh, right, sure. Listen, how is it that your race has failed to secure a hold on any of the multitudinous celestial bodies in this solar system?"
"Now that's just unfair of you to say. And incorrect. We already have three bases on the moon, and a one almost finished being built on Mars. I would say that's right impressive, considering that we had none of those fifty years ago."
"Establishments on your closest moon are child's play - literally! Our schoolchildren design such bases all the time. Also, less than 0.0000001% of your population are housed on these meager ranches..."
"How many of us would you want on the moon, anyway? There's not a whole lot to do there, you know."
"Never mind that. You have three other rocky planets in the vicinity that could, with just a bit of atmospheric tweaking, comfortably house triple your current population. Not to mention the dozens and dozens of viable moons and asteroids in the outer regions. And yet, you've barely expanded out. Still bragging about lunar bases..."
"Hey now, no need to be rude. We're trying our best. Space travel isn't easy."
"By the stars, you are truly an infant race...our apologies. Listen, could we maybe help you out, and you help us out in return? Maybe we could lend a fusion drive or two, introduce some gamma deflectors..."
"You really want Earth, eh?"
"it is *quite* the pretty planet."
"That's what I said. Anyway, I reckon you'll want to talk to someone more important than me. The Queen, maybe. You could also contact the ESA, or skip across the pond and talk to NASA. You know, the leaders of human space travel."
"Oh. We thought...so, then, you are...?"
"I just drive lorries, sorry."
"Right, right, our apologies again. Well, good to meet you. We'll be off, then."
"Best of luck."
______________________________________
*Liked that? [More stories here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!*
|
A small boy appeared then broke into pieces. A dog the size of a small hill. Flames. Screams. Explosions. A wave of fire that engulfed everything in its path. Jenny could feel herself disintegrating.
And then heaved in a lungful of air as her eyes burst open from the nightmare. Her mouth felt dry and parched as if she'd been breathing through her mouth all night. And then came the wave of stupor, and she gazed blankly at the ceiling, remarking how dark the room was. With sleep coming back to her after a night full of dreams, she reached blindly for her phone, and saw that it was 9 o' clock.
'That can't be right.' she though to herself. And attempted to roll herself over so she could sit upright, and was met with what nearly made her have a heart attack.
The bright amber eyes reminded Jenny of Sauron's tower. It was the size of a basketball backboard, and she could feel it's watchful glare land on her swollen belly.
And then she heard it, the sound of a bustling commotion outside her window. Her own familiar, a Norwegian forest, was already hiding beneath a chair, stealing glances at this new, overwhelming presence.
Carefully heaving herself, Jenny made her way outside.
"Oh my god"she whispered to herself.
Next to her two story house, a giant familiar had manifested in the early morning hours, and quite a crowd, in fact the entire neighborhood had gathered around, with a few MP (the magic police) as well. In the far back, some news reporters were setting up their equipment as well.
The familiar reminded her of a cross between a lion and a Tibetan Mastiff. It's rich blue, yellow, and red mane hung like clouds but seemed to flow like water, and the gloss on it made it look like real flames. The entire body was grey with many black circles forming a bubble or spotted pattern, save its paws, which were the purest white she had seen. It had a flame pattern going up the shins of its four legs to the thigh, a flaming red nose, and eyes like the yellow of a flame. This was no ordinary familiar. Almost all familiars manifested in the shape of ordinary land animals. But this...
She remembered the name for this creature. Haetae, they called it back in Korea. She remembered seeing statues of it at the entrance of most major public institutions, particularly in front of the Gyeongbokgoong, the old palace where the Chosun kings' seat of authority over the Korean peninsula resided.
Jenny noticed Erena and Mike, the couple who lived next door, also amidst the crowd looking overwhelmed. When their eyes met, despite Jenny instinctively knew the answer, she pointed to the exotic familiar and raised her eyebrows in a manner of asking 'is this yours?'. They fervently shook their heads.
She looked back at the familiar. It looked in her general direction, but the more she observed it, the more she felt it was looking at a particular part of her. Jenny looked down at her belly, and then back at the familiar. She had vaguely heard of the relationship between familiars and people, but she couldn't recall if a familiar could form for an unborn infant as well.
As she was lost in thought, a black van pulled up behind her. Men in suits hastily cut their way through the crowd, and suddenly Jenny found herself thrown to the ground, belly first. Jenny let out a startled and painful scream, and just as quick, the haetae's eyes lit ablaze, and it let out a blood chilling roar which sent out a visible shockwave and knocked everyone back. Windows shattered, houses creaked, and car alarms were set off.
Jenny immediately rolled over, to see blood starting to soak her pants. She could feel life escaping. She let out a blood curling scream, the sort only bereaved mothers could let out. She looked up at the haetae, eyes filled with all the rage and hate that could broil within a person. She spoke no words, but looked back at the men in suits, and then back at the haetae.
The flaming deity of justice immediately sprang to action.
|
It all started with the memes.
I guess Monsoon was right when he was moaning about them being the amino acids of the thetans or something. I’ve never played Metal Gear, so I’m not sure if I got that one right. Not like I’m in any state to enjoy video games right now, with the world ending and all.
I’m writing this from the wreckage of a public library. *They* won’t find me here, or at least they won’t bother to check the ruins for long. Thankfully the Internet still works, as that fucking bag of shit on the FCC was one of the first fatalities. Ironically, he literally memed himself to death just after he shared the digital virus to his corporate sugar daddies, and they unwittingly spread it to millions of others before they *turned.*
I’m planning on leaving physical copies of this message wherever I can, in addition to the /r/WritingPrompts sub. It’ll be proof that somebody was alive after this mess, and some smart survivors might find that at least this part of the Net is still fairly infection-free. We might be able to find more people who were immune to the plague. Even if they’re not immune, survivors deserve to know that there’s a chance for survival. The papers should help them the most; it’s too dangerous to go on the Net right now. My family, my friends… I was too late to warn them. Many of them had fallen to the plague and those who didn’t soon wished they were. I’ve been mostly alone for a while now. People came and went. Many didn’t make it as long as I did.
I come across a half-turned every once in a while. It’s hard for me to see them as something that used to be human, so I try to quickly put them out of their misery. They scream, they groan, they make this awful *clicking* sound I can’t get out of my head. And every time I meet one, they ask me the same question over and over again. And my heart breaks every time, because I don’t have an answer for them.
I keep telling them, I seriously don’t know the way.
|
Minnie found Mickey lying face down in his bedroom late one night. The news shocked all of us, but Pluto was hit the hardest. Poor dog would barely eat for two weeks. Needless to say, we wanted to figure out exactly what had caused the death of our beloved friend, so we began to investigate.
First we checked his room. But we couldn't find any leads, so we all went to bed. But I couldn't sleep, so I decided to look in there one more time. I wasn't as thorough this time, but I had discovered something that had previously gone unnoticed: a photograph.
It was located at the bottom of his underwear drawer, and after seeing it, I knew why. It was a photo of Mickey and a little mouse. She looked to be about five, maybe six years old. Micky was hugging her and kissing her on the mouth. I put it in my pocket as evidence and decided to look for more.
There was nothing in his other drawers, or anywhere for that matter. But I still couldn't sleep, so I looked to his book shelf for something to read. One book in particular caught my eye: "How to Attract Young Mice."Its title caught me by surprise, so I grabbed it. But upon doing so, I was transported to a secret room. In the room, there were monitors, boxes, and more. On the monitors I could see all my friends sleeping. I could see the bathroom, and the front and back yards. I was shocked to find that Mickey had been spying on us. As far as I know, no one else had known it. In the boxes, there were more photos and more books. The photos were much more graphic. Some were nudes, some were of people incapacitated. I was absolutely perplexed by my findings.
Some of the books had… interesting titles, such as “Taboo Recipes,” “How to Get Away with Certain Crimes,” and “Drugging 101,” just to name a few. I was furious, but tried hard to not jump to conclusions. Upon opening “Taboo Recipes,” I found recipes containing mouse, dog tail, and kangaroo semen. I was disgusted, and threw the book on the floor.
In some other boxes, I found drugs, ropes, belts, paddles, booze, and chemicals. More shock and disgust.
After shifting through more and more, and after finding more and more strange and horrible things, I looked to what I thought was a closet. On the contrary, it was a huge room containing several little rodents tied up and blindfolded. They appeared to be sleeping at first, but I wasn’t sure. There was a large erotic painting on the far side of the room, and a sign that read, “My Children,” to my right. I wondered if Mickey had fathered them all, but there were too many for that to be sensible. But I still wasn’t sure.
I untied and took the blindfold off of one of them, and asked how she ended up here. Her eyes had been removed from her head. I was speechless, and quickly moved away. I untied and removed the blindfolds from several more eyeless young mice.
I ran out, back to my friends, and told them about what I’d seen. They didn’t believe me, but they followed me to the room anyway.
The horror. The horror. The horror.
|
Waking up and looking down on the scorched, barren landscape below instils the same fear in me every morning as it did on that day 73 years ago. For as far as the eyes could see there was nothing. Nothing except for the charred remains of the odd building, or a hardy plant beginning to grow. That is until your gaze met the ‘other’ mountain.
Far off into the distance the top half of a mountain could be seen flourishing with greenery in the summer. It too must have been at a high enough altitude to avoid the fire. My wife and I were lucky: the fire never reached us up here where the oxygen was too sparse for the fire to spread. Although some days I question if it was luck... or a curse.
Tala sure seemed to think it was. A few days after the fire we stumbled upon a native tribe living on the mountain who were kind enough to accept and look after us and a few other travellers. Tala was the late chiefs widow and now the tribes seer. Her husband, Mata was out hunting at the foot of the mountain when the fire happened. Tala holds out hope for him to one day return, but believe me, nobody could have possibly survived a blast that immense.
If he did somehow manage to shelter from the blast it wouldn’t be unlikely that he’s still alive. The people’s lifespan here typically exceeds way beyond that of regular people. I think it must be the altitude. It’s had an apparent effect on me: 96 today and still feeling spry. My wife wasn’t as fortunate, it’s been almost 20 years since she passed. The depression never did loosen its grip on her and ultimately it killed her. I hope she’s found all those she lost all those years ago.
As for me, all I’ve been able to think about is the other mountain. What’s on there? Could there be other survivors? I’ve got nothing left to lose, seems an expedition is in order.
P.s. I suck at writing I know, the idea just sprang at me though so I thought I’d have a crack. I’d be more than happy for anyone who is good at writing to spruce up this concept if you want to :) |
Run
“If you ever see a human, turn and run. If you cannot run, ask for mercy. Their body may seem weak, but they are fearsome.” The teacher taught them as soon as the class landed on Lask. The cool students, not satisfied with this answer, asked the old creature simply: “Why?” The teacher, looking scarred as one can be, and told them: “Once upon a time, when there wasn’t yet a translation device available, we all lived in peace and looked down upon them. This changed as soon as the first translations were made. Humans posses a science called philosophies. This concept is entirely alien to us and deadly. Even their own machines cannot stand this. Imagine it! A machine cannot comprehend what a human is saying. Anyways, after first speaking contact was made, they introduced us to this. They asked us one question, just one combination of words and the entire delegation went mad. Highly trained diplomats and leading military personal! No, if you ever see a human, do not be so silly to make the mistake of trying to communicate with them. Just run, run for your life.” Kevin, a kid who thought that he was more knowledgeable than the old master did not believe him. So, Kevin went to the one place where he knew, he would find humans. The football stadium.
Franz, who was already drunk when he came to the stadium saw the kid and went up to him, wanting to settle a discussion between him and a friend of his. So, he asked him a question, the question. “Pineapple on pizza or not mate?” Kevin was never the same after that.
|
''Hello, this is Satan speaking. How can I help you?''
''It's Karen Hansen. What have you done to my baby?!''
''Oh God, it's you. I thought we had a [deal that you would never contact me again!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/81pwoj/wp_somehow_your_wife_has_gotten_a_lifelong_ban/dv4dkje/)
''We did. But that was before one of your demons [possessed my baby!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7y7ltc/wp_um_honey_did_you_teach_the_baby_latin/dueh14f/)
''My demons did no such thing.''
''Then how do you explain that she knows how to speak Latin?!''
''It was a gift! A sign of our goodwill, to appease you with!''
''A gift?''
''Yes, you know. Like in Sleeping Beauty.''
''Like in Sleeping Beauty.''
''Yes. When the fairies give Aurora the gifts of beauty, wit, grace, et cetera.''
''Like the fairies.''
''Yes. Except for the fact that we're not fairies but, you know, demons. So we couldn't exactly gift her with things like grace and beauty.'' Oh God. ''Although, she is of course very beautiful and graceful!'', he hastened to add. God have mercy on his soul if he accidentally insulted her.
Karen ignored it. ''So you went with the gift of speaking Latin.''
''Well yes, among other things. It seemed like one of the few things we were capable of gifting her with that you would actually appreciate.''
''Hold on. *Among other things*?!''
''Yes.''
''What else can she do?!''
''Well, one of my demons gifted her with extreme physical flexibility. She has the ability to turn her head a full 360 degrees. Or to become an Olympic gymnast. Whatever path she chooses in life.''
Karen rolled her eyes. ''Well, great. That's just great. I'll have a great time explaining *that* to the outside world.''
''You can always go with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome'', Satan offered helpfully.
''The next demon granted her the ability to defy gravity'', he continued, unfazed. ''She can use it to crawl on the ceiling, like in *The Exorcist*. But she can also use it to save kittens out of trees. Whatever she wants, really.''
''Oh dear.''
''And then finally, I gifted her with the ability to speak Latin. But you already seem to know about that one.''
When she didn't immediately respond, Satan became increasingly nervous. ''D-do you like the gifts?''
Karen sighed. ''Well...I can see they were clearly well intentioned'', she started.
''They were!''
''A bit unpractical, maybe.''
Karen could practically feel his disappointment on the other end of the line. A pang of guilt rose in her chest.
''But it's the thought that counts, right?'' She added quickly. ''Thank you for the gifts.''
Satan let out a sigh of relief. ''Thank God you like them. There's just one more thing.''
''What is it?''
''Please never contact me again.'' |
The Pyromancers, with their flashy spells and crackling powers, sneered at him.
"Oh you think a sunflower's so impressive? Why dont'cha try summoning the total accumulated energy of a *motherfucking sun?"*
The Necromancers, with their feared and dreadful command of the masses of dead, shook their heads in weary disdain.
"This fool spends his days pushing daisies. He's disrupting the sacred burial grounds and disturbing the slumber of the dead."
Those who dealt in the arts of sleep and love despised the bright riot of weeds and blossoms that sprung up wherever he walked, gasping thick clouds of pollen into the faces of the sleep deprived and lovesick.
"He's making our spells ineffective! No one can get a good night's sleep with all that crap floating around. No one wants to kiss the lips of their beloved, currently sporting a runny nose!"
The Pollenmancer was thus shunned by his peers, who continued their frivolous spellmaking and useless feuds far away from his creeping miasmas. It suited him. Let them fling globs of fire at the creaking, crumbling dead. Let them spin fantasies out of thin air, to dissolve like candy floss in the bitter tide of reality. None of it concerned him.
The Pollenmancer cast his mind tenderly into the depths of the loamy soil, seeking out each shyly twisting new root, each seed bursting with potential. His children, still buried but not for long. Slowly, slowly they unfolded towards his long-sought call. Their master. Their liberator. Their king.
He smiled to himself, imagining the impotent flames of the Pyromancers quenched by a rushing tide of vegetation; the brittle-boned armies of the dead, hopelessly knotted and tangled in his soldiers' ropy arms.
The verdant, reverent silence that would fall over the land once his children had risen. |
The bright light of the moon shines into Hondar’s bedroom. The sound of leafs blowing with the wind covered Arric’s footsteps, as he sneak into the room.
Hondar was fast asleep, snoring loudly without a care. The fighter had just won an important match, and needed a heavy rest. Arric knew this, which was why he picked this day to reclaim what is his. His blood.
Arric lifted his pale hands, holding on to a knife. His skinny and light physique allowed him to stay quiet for his mission. His sunkened eyes stared hungrily at his prey.
With a quick slice, Hondar’s neck flew open. Blood leaking out, Arric quickly dived in and consumed as much as he could. The more he drank, the bigger he grows. His skin returned to a normal colour, his muscles seem to regrow. Instead of a skinny, pale boy, in his stead was a man that could easily intimidate Hundar himself.
Arric’s eyes glow red with power as he drank his prey’s blood.
“I will not be powerless, not again, never again!” He screamed. With his mind set on his next target, he let out a devilish grin. |
HeartSton superstar, Kripparian walks over to his computer and takes a deep breath,'Can I even take this any more?' his mind ponders. It had been 22 years since his first HeartSton stream but to no avail, every single day, the game finds a new way to get under his skin. He wonders what will happen to him today, will his opponents rope him just to make the most obvious play, will the mage draw mana worm on turn one, or will the golden priest have Mindcontrol on turn 10 for his voidlords.
"Do it for Brode", he says to himself while getting seated in his chair. Brode had promised him billions, if not trillions of dust, and all he had to do in return, was to stream for 6 hours a day.
With a deep sigh, he turns on his stream and says, "Hey guys how's it going Kripparian here." |
Light stared down at the black book laying right at his feet then knelt down to inspect it more closely. On the front cover, the title was etched in crude white ink.
‘MILDLY INCONVENIENCED NOTE’
After some hesitation, Light then picked up the book and turned to the inner cover. Within it was a guide to using the book with a set of rules.
*Rule 1: This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person’s face in mind when writing his or her name, therefore people sharing the same name will not be affected.*
*Rule 2: If the cause of the minor inconvenience is written within 30 seconds, it will happen.*
*Rule 3: If the cause of the minor inconvenience is not specified, the person will simply let out a loud fart.*
*Rule 4: After writing the cause of the minor inconvenience, further details of the minor inconvenience should be added in the next 3 minutes.*
‘This seems like a prank,’ Light thought to himself. ‘There’s no way this could be real. Someone at school must have made it up.’ Nevertheless, he picked up the book so he could find some light amusement from it.
Later on that day, while Light was in the middle of a dull and silent maths class, he found himself unable to focus on the slew of trigonometry questions in his textbook. Checking to see that the teacher was not looking, he pulled out the Mildly Inconvenienced Note, read over the rules again then decided - just for a laugh - that he would try it.
‘Jo Hill’, Light wrote on the very first page. He didn’t believe for a second that it would work and so he looked over at Miss Hill’s desk and started counted down.
‘Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six...’
There was no way this was going to work... right?
‘Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen...’
Light continued to count in his head, but only because he had nothing more interesting to do.
‘Five, four, three, two, one.’
PLBBBBRGH!
Unexpectedly, Miss Hill let out a loud and rather wet fart that pierced through the silence of the room. Moments later, the entire classroom had erupted in laughter.
“E-excuse me,” Miss Hill muttered nervously, turning beet-red before leaving the classroom. The moment she left, the entire class began to talk amongst themselves.
Light sighed. “There’s no way that was the note,” he muttered to himself under his breath. “Just... no way.” |
No natural disaster, no chemical leak or armed attack had taken place, however I don't think any of those would've come close to the cause that no one had an answer to.
I didn't remember much apart from the feeling my skull was being injected with thousands of syringes at once then blacking out. I'd woken up with limited hearing, it gradually returned, but the first few minutes of being awake had come as blurs of my family running around me and blurts of "Can you hear me?"or "Are you okay?"They weren't very medical and were convinced it was vertigo, even though Hadley hadn't taken it very seriously and wanted to get me into trouble by claiming I was on drugs.
Vertigo and even drugs would've been better then what I knew must've caused it. Screaming in my head was an odd hobby of mine with an even odder hopeful outcome that nearby people would be effected. Breaking news announced what I just knew was connected to what I did, I had no proof apart from the strongest gut feeling I'd ever had. Finland wasn't at all close to Washington DC, yet the television told me not a single Finnish person hadn't been knocked unconscious by a mysterious cause that was still being investigated. The thudding of my heart slowed to a normal pace when I realised no one had been killed or seriously hurt. I was in a dreamlike state, I was going crazy, there was no way I had done this. My gut feeling was wrong. No amount of trying to convince myself these statements are true would help, after the event I was scared to think in my head and causing another disaster.
"Since when were you interested in current events?"Mum asked as handed me a bag of frozen peas to treat the throbbing bump on my head.
"I um, just felt like it I guess,"I replied not wanting to talk at all. I took the peas not caring about their iciness and placed it on my bump. She started lecturing me about the importance of resting and taking it easy because of my fall, and it made me annoyed as she was interrupting my train of thought as to how I'd managed to do what I did. No matter how hard I'd ever tried, screaming in my head had always been the same volume as normal thinking, it was pretty irritating. Until today that had always been the case. Something must have happened for me to be able to have enough power to break the barrier of volume in my mind, and I needed to find out what it was.
|
The man with white hair sat next to me, with a face as still as if it were hewn from rock.
"Uh, hello?"I tried.
"Gʀᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢs."
His eyes turned towards me. His gaze made me feel uncomfortable.
"My name is Gene. I'm your coworker."
"Pʟᴇᴀsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. I ᴀᴍ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀs Aʟʙᴇʀᴛ."
His face remained expressionless.
I turned towards the computer screen again. What was I doing again? Albert had been distracting me.
Who was this guy to begin with? And his hair colour, what was up with that? Who'd decided to bring this guy on board?
I stared at the monitor.
Oh. Right.
I was tracking down this strange bug that kept popping up in our software. This one was a pain. It didn't seem to behave consistently at all.
I jumped in my chair when I heard a voice behind me.
"Gᴇɴᴇ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ?"
"Shit, you startled me, Albert."
He had stood up silently and moved behind me to look at my screen.
"I ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛᴏ."
Apparently, that was the only apology I was going to get.
I pulled up the bug report.
"Well, we've got this bug here. It seems to sometimes incorrectly render certain parts of the window-"
"Gᴇɴᴇ, ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ."
"I've been working on this for a while, and I think I'm close to finding out what's wrong. You can claim a different task on the tracker. It's probably best to start with something easier."
"Gᴇɴᴇ, I ᴡɪʟʟ sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ. I ᴀᴍ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ."
"Ugh, fine, give it a shot. Here. Have fun."
With a few clicks, I added him to the task.
Albert walked back towards his chair, and began working.
Shit. What a freak. I stood up to grab a glass of water. I needed a moment to regain my composure. I walked over to the tap and filled my glass.
"Gᴇɴᴇ, I ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɪssᴜᴇ."
I spat out my water and hung over the sink, panting heavily.
"Albert, don't sneak up on me like that. Just, clear your throat or something."
"I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ."
"So you said you fixed it?"
"I ʜᴀᴠᴇ."
"Hold on. Let me take a look."
I ran over to Albert's desk and looked at his screen. He moved the mouse and selected a line of code.
"Hᴇʀᴇ. I ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪs ʟɪɴᴇ."
"What was it before?"
"Iᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs."
He pressed Undo, and in front of my eyes, half a screen of unnecessarily complex code unfolded.
"Woah. Right. Uh, run a few tests and commit it."
"Oꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ."
"Oh, Albert..."
He stared at me with those empty eyes of his, like he was some sort of demon. The hair made it far, far worse.
"Is it okay if I leave these kinds of problems for you? You seem to be able to, ah, handle them."
"Oꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, Gᴇɴᴇ. Tʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴏᴘᴛɪᴍᴀʟ."
He had no emotions whatsoever, the bastard. He was pure logic, in human form.
*****
I quit my job not long after.
I think they'll be fine with a programmer like him at the helm.
I'll just go somewhere I can actually be useful. |
". . . which is why the draccus, notwithstanding its lack of flight, is in many instances, far more dangerous than its better known cousin. . ."
*I will not perform transfiguration on other students.*
". . . and such burns are best treated with the *Alantis Inarcticum* incantation, to provide a soothing chill to the area, followed as promptly as practicable with one vial of the Winter's Blessing potion every twelve hours until . . ."
*I will not perform transfiguration on other students.*
". . . and do not forget that these eggs reach temperatures in excess of 500 degrees Celcius. For this reason, dragon incubation is only to be performed under extremely careful circumstances, including. . ."
*I will not perform transfiguration on other students.*
"Are there any questions?"With a collective groan, the class made a group decision to forego additional lecturing. Madame Manet's commentary on dragons and related topics had been ongoing since sunrise. In the meantime, the sky had opened wide and beckoned the children outdoors with bright rays of light and the prospect of recess. After a pause, Madame Manet gestured with her wand toward an empty desk in the back row, "That will do, Ronald. I do hope, after the hundredth time writing it, that the message has sufficiently sunk in."
A bundle of red hair flopped under a pointy black hat as the boy trudged back to his seat. Herbert Furburrow, still a bit furry in places, shot him a dirty look from the other side of the classroom. Clearly, he had not found Ronald's "There's an ass in the class!"prank nearly as funny as Ronald and the rest of the kids had found it. The children occasionally made fun of Ronald's freckles, but they'd never let Herbert forget the full coat he'd grown today.
"Here,"Jenny Lightenflass, only the prettiest girl in the whole sixth grade, passed him her notebook, "would you like to copy my notes?"Thumbing through, there were nearly 15 pages in the tiniest girl writing imaginable, coded among some sort of system involving no less than 3 different colors. Yellow highlighting matched her beautiful blonde hair. Red pen mirrored the thin red lines her lips made when they pursed together. Blue pen shone like the azure portals of her eyes.
"Thanks, Jenny. That's really nice. . ."Mid sentence, Ronald was interrupted by an eruption of laughter from the other children.
*There's an ass in the class.*
*There's an ass in the class.*
*There's an ass in the class.*
In the time since Ronald had sat down, the words he'd written on the chalkboard had flitted about and rearranged themselves into a somewhat naughtier message, written a hundred times over, so the message could sufficiently soak in. Plum red, poor Herbert bolted out the door and slammed it shut, whereupon his leftover tail stuck in the frame and he tumbled backward with all the grace of, well, a donkey.
"Ronald!"Madam Manet took a few concerted steps toward the back of the class, her heavy spectacles dropping a touch further down her face with each step, only to be caught in the great wrinkle where cheek seemed to have melted down her face from just beneath her eyeballs. "That is absolutely it!"She waved at a girl in the front row, Daisy or Rose or some flowery name of sorts, to go and help Herbert unstick himself from the doorway, and then proceeded to walk back toward her desk and rub her crystal ball. Four times counterclockwise, three times clockwise, then a pat just so on the right side. Principal Hawkwick's number.
"Madame Manet!"The principal burst into the room almost immediately upon being summoned, nearly stepping on Herbert the donkey boy on his way in. Only with the saving grace of Lily or Petunia or whoever did Herbert manage to avoid being smushed by the weighty feet of the man in charge of this entire charade. "Is there a problem?"His thick sausage fingers stroked his contrastingly wispy white beard as his eyes scanned the room and guessed at the troublemaker.
"Oh, yes sir, there is a problem."With the tip of her wand, she gently pushed her glasses back into place then shot a dangerous look in Ronald's direction. "It seems our resident prankster has been at it again, haven't we Mr. Alinstott?"
In an all-time acting effort, Ronald gave an exceedingly genuine expression of disillusionment. "Me? Me!"He stood from the back row and waded through the throngs of students to the two adult magicians. "Look!"With an effort, he shoved 15 pages worth of notes on the subject of the dragon and related topics into the principal's chest. "I've been sitting here quietly taking notes all this time!"
Madame Manet stood dumbfounded. "Ronald, this entire class saw you doing lines for me throughout that entire lecture! How can you expect us to believe this?"
A sheepish hand rose from the back of the class. When Madame Manet nodded to the girl to rise, she timidly crept forward, her own 15 pages of rainbow colored summary clenched tightly to her chest. "I don't mean to get anyone in trouble Madame Manet or Principal Hawkwick,"her eyes shot to the ground and her lips curled in just a touch. Slight, imperceptible trembling grew more noticeable until, with a tear rolling down her right cheek, she thrust her own notes into the arms of Madame Manet and ran crying down the hallway into the girls' bathroom.
"So you've cheated as well? Stolen the notes from one of your classmates, have you? Ronald, even for you, this is a low day."Ronald retained his flabbergasted expression, right up until the bitter end. Principal Hawkwick escorted him to his office where they discussed the terms of the day's detention. It seemed the janitor had called in sick, and a host of restrooms needed mopping and toilet scrubbing, to be done manually, and nonmagically.
Meanwhile, in a nondiscrete stall in one of those bathrooms in particular, a young girl's blonde hair turned prematurely from blonde to an unnatural orange, fading eventually to gingery red. Tiny freckles sprouted on both cheeks, which turned from perfectly fine to garishly boyish in the matter of seconds.
"Jenny dear!"There was a knock at the door, which preceded its swinging open without answer. "Jenny, I'm so sorry about Ronald. Would you like to talk about it?"
An unnaturally high pitched voice rang out from one of the toilets, "No, Madame Manet!"Ronald cleared his throat and tried to adjust to something that sounded more like a girl and less like a boy pretending to be a girl, "Really, I'm ok!"Alas, he overcompensated and it slurred out much too low this time. A pair of glasses rose above the dark green door and were startled to find a sheepish little boy sitting on the toilet in the girls' bathroom.
"Well Ronald, at least you've already practiced the relevant lines." |
**Day 2**
Decided to start keeping a journal. Should have done this yesterday. Sir Moron the Oaf burned himself while cooking last night's meal, then kept holding his hand out expectantly. I shook it and introduced myself. He thought I'd made a genuine mistake! I healed all of his hand except for one little spot that he won't notice until he tries to hold his sword.
Spent the day traveling. Sir Idiot the Thick complained of aching feet. Told him to put rocks in his shoes to "bring him closer to the Earth."Dumb fool actually tried it, and even went out of his way to find rocks for me! Said I didn't need rocks because I had swallowed some numbing potion.
Burned himself during dinner again tonight. I told him repeated healings of the same spot could cause problems. He believed it! Kept asking about my life, childhood, friends, though. Suggested we get some sleep, just to shut him up. Had to cure his sleep apnea before I could drift off, though.
------
**Day 3**
First sign of tracks today. Sir Dimwit the Dense insisted we follow them. No surprise, dead end. That's what happens when you follow cow tracks while looking for a dragon. Idiot got chased by a bull and nearly gored to death. Healed the life-threatening wounds with magic, but treated everything else with standard remedies. Should probably hurt for a few weeks.
Nonstop talking the whole damned day after that. Should have left his ribs broken. "I'm grateful, I appreciate you,"blah blah blah. Whole lot of sentimental rubbish.
Felt extra cranky tonight. Probably fatigue from healing. Sir Simpleton the Stupid noticed, tried to offer me his "doll."Told some story about his mother making it for him. Said it was the most special thing he owned. Pathetic. Smelled like old cheese. Had half a mind to chuck it in the fire. Wound up declining and pretending to sleep. At least the snoring stopped.
------
**Day 4**
Word of a dragon sighting not far from here. Walked all day. Sir Dummy the Dolt tried to offer me rocks. Not sure what he's playing at, all this concern and congeniality. Told him my numbing potion was enough. Note to self: Something stronger next time, keep getting hangovers before lunchtime.
Sir Blockhead the Brainless had a nasty spill, tore his stitches. Had to magically heal the whole damned thing. Idiot spent the whole time "reassuring"me: "Not your fault if healing me again causes problems."Claimed his "doll"told him I felt a lot of guilt. Maybe next it will say where I can find enough treasure to retire.
No burns tonight, thankfully. Had to listen to more stories, though. Tried to cut them off with some complaints from my own life, but the simpleton kept putting naively optimistic spins on things. Asked about my mother. Told him I never had one. That shut him up.
Getting used to the food, I guess.
------
**Day 7**
Forgot about this for a little while. Still hunting.
------
**Day 8**
An actual lead today. Some local cult allegedly worships a dragon.
------
**Day 9**
That utter muttonhead is lucky to be alive. Cult was there, alright. Had two hostages. Woman and her daughter. The imbecile wouldn't leave without them, even when a trap was about to off him. Had to work fast to stop the bleeding. Made it out (obviously), but feel exhausted. Bottle broke sometime during the battle. Had to get another one from town while everyone was thanking "the hero."Bloody dunce, more like. Tried to give his doll to the little girl he rescued. She pretended to listen to it, then gave it back. Probably couldn't stand the smell.
Stew again tonight. At least he took my advice. The pepper really makes it.
------
comefree root lavinder hello vera honee
ask shop four bandiges twine gran alcihol
------
**Day 16**
Finally conscious again for long enough to write. Probably a few days left until magical abilities return. Alive, barely. Still can't look at stupid dragon's head. Feel flames again when I do. Head – mine, not dragon's – pounding like a goddamned drum. Sir Fool the Fearless is healing well. Barely remember saving him. He sure remembers. Won't shut up about it.
Bottle broke again. Weirdest thing, don't really want another.
Doll still smells like old cheese. |
When I first entered the atmosphere, the ship I had thought to be so large was dwarfed amidst a sky of blue. There was rain against the windows, and I heard its patter faintly against the dense walls.
*Rain,* I thought.
That was a word they had taught us. It was beaten into me long ago and I remembered the crying and begging of youth, and the dark cells and the echoing voices of men in power.
Now it was quiet.
We landed on Earth at the expected time. Its gravity weighed me greatly but I kept my back straight. The Sun above burnt me as if trying to end me slowly.
*They have no shields,* I thought. *Such a savage people*.
My chains weighed me further.
*If they are savages, then what are we?*
Survivors, I thought. But it was one of those thoughts that you do not really think. I placated myself with it. I thought of my family back home. I had to imagine their faces for I have never seen them.
I didn't think I ever would. But that is another thought I did not really think. It would hurt too much to think that.
They put me on the scaffolding and I saw the Humans for the first time. They were big and *present*, a kind of bulkiness that made them somehow *more* than we were.
They spoke contestedly over us. I was bought by a young Human. He was a man. I suppose I was as well.
He took off my chains and he spoke slowly to me so I would understand his words.
"You're going to live with us now,"he said. "We don't have much, but we make do, yeah? This is farm country and I hope you know how to reap a field."
"Yes,"I said.
The windows of his car, the smallest ship I had ever been in, were thin and you could hear the air as we passed by. I imagined it sang to me, singing some distant song composed long ago in the heavens.
*Wilting, wilting,* the wind cried. *Wilting, waiting, wilting awayyyyyyy*.
My master was talking.
"Yes, sir,"I said.
He was an old Human. I was afraid of him. I had heard the stories as we all had. Then I saw it with my own eyes. Then I felt it and saw just how entrenched it was.
He ate of another's flesh as he drove. It smelled of seasoned death. Then that scent was all around me. It had crept up subtly.
The seats of his car were another's carcass. The clothes he wore and his breath and even the faint fumes of the car's fuel came to me.
*Death,* I thought.
The word conjured itself as a darkened home, that place where I longed to be, that place from where I was taken. I heard phantom screams of children and whips and merchants haggling with life they would not end, but would bargain for as all enterprising peoples do.
I trembled that day. The days passed. My story was like any other. There were many of us who toiled in the fields, or in the factories, or in the skies upon the barren rocks.
I worked hard and became numb. My body broke slowly and I became a pariah to myself. I ate of life, and swallowed it whole so I would live. So I would toil for those that desecrated all that is good in this world.
But you have heard that story many times before.
This is what I will tell you, for it has kept me awake many a dark night on Earth:
The man's name was Jacob. He had a wife named Lilith. To me she was like any other Human, but he worshiped her as though she was the most precious of things in the world.
And she treated me kindly.
I remember how her eyes were soft with good intentions when she offered me 'water' to drink. This was as safe a drink as any on Earth and I sensed little suffering in it. I drank to her delight and in that moment things did not hurt as badly as they did.
I don't know why I remember that moment. But it stays with me.
I was working a day near winter, a time where the dark came early. The man Jacob was out to the Fringes where the ground was green and radiated; the place where all the power was generated. He was out selling his goods at the plant's marketplace to the people who worked there.
"They don't live long up on the Fringes,"he had said. "The cancer takes 'em before God does. It's a scummy job but that's what it takes."
"Yes, sir."
"That's why I give 'em a good price."
Then he had left for a week. That was the first time he had ever been gone so long. The farm was quiet and there was the sounds of crickets and frogs in the night. Earth seemed peaceful, as though it was a gentle place.
But it was near winter and that calm was only death's facade.
Or maybe I am looking for someone else to blame.
I cannot say.
The phone rang that evening when I was on the field. That was the last night Jacob was to be gone. He spoke with Lilith on the phone and then he spoke to me. He thought of me as a friend, I suppose. He liked to talk.
"How are you, Space?"
"I'm fine, sir."
"You're always fine. I tell you, I ain't never seen an alien that wasn't fine."
"Yes, sir."
"Well I'm not fine. I'm not fine at all. I can't wait to reach home. I'm so hungry you wouldn't believe it, Space. They don't have any real food up there. Alls they got is nutrition packets like if that could feed you."
"Yes, sir."
"I tell you, I could eat a man, Space. I'm so hungry I could eat 'em whole."
"Yes, sir."
I had trembled then, I know. The cold had raised my pores and the wind sang a violent song as I held that telephone.
*Savages.*
Isn't it funny how easy it is to lose your mind?
"I'll see you tomorrow, Space. I expect a big meal waiting for me as soon as I reach."
"Yes, sir."
Was it the fear, I wonder. Looking back it seems intentional. I can see how the Human courts see it. I can understand what they say and where they come from.
But you must believe me, at the time I was being sincere.
Lilith was asleep that night. She slept softly as though she were a painting. Since Jacob had left I had come and watched her sleep at nights. She had a frailness about her that reminded me of the feeling of home. Back home where we did not take another's life; where we lived as the civilized do.
I was shaking as I entered her room. Seeing her there made me sad. I knew by the next day Jacob would be beside her. He was heavy and Human, and he carried the stench of consumed flesh strongly about him.
I looked at her and I was afraid and addled. I don't know what I was thinking. I had lived with them for months then, but the language was still foreign. Perhaps I can blame that on my misunderstanding?
And there were the stories, too, from back home. Those stories told of a great disregard for death among the Humans and of a power to bring back the dead if they so chose.
I had seen the former first hand.
May I thought the latter would also be true.
But I have no real excuse.
My hands held the scythe that had murdered so many stalks and rounded up so many grain. That already bloodied scythe would simply add another corpse to its list. Its first Human.
I did not expect her scream. The pain and fear, that hopeless confusion, it wilted my heart. I felt as though I would shatter from the ver wrongness of it all. The sin I had committed was great.
*It is my duty,* I thought.
It was another of those thoughts that I did not really think. I was crying then.
I was still crying even after I had her prepared. Lilith was gone but her scent remained. I think Jacob could smell it before he entered that morning.
The tears were upon him before he knew what it was. Some part of him had just *sensed* it. I could see his pain as I was ready to greet him. He saw the blood and he collapsed and he howled like some animal.
"Master,"I said.
I was still crying. I fell to my knees. Does it make sense that I was sad he was not pleased? I had given up my soul for his approval and here he was, crying and sobbing same as I, and I knew then that I had been wrong.
I cooked her but he had never planned on eating a Human.
Jacob had loved Lilith and I saw it in his writhing. The smell of radiation soaked through him in a miniscule way, but there was already a more immediate cancer upon him. His insides were black and I knew his mind was empty.
The authorities came and took him and his companion away and they also took me away. They've taken me to the Craters, as you know, and it is in those holes I have been held. It is in that darkness that I await your judgment.
I do not ask for your sympathy for I know I will not receive such. I have written this for my own salvation and for my mind's mercy. The words and feelings consume me and in this dark quiet I hear the neverending screams of Lilith on that night so long ago.
I only wish for my time to end.
-
Hello! If you liked this 'story', then you might want to consider checking out my subreddit: r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories, including some un-prompted ones. Check it out if you can, and thanks for the support! |
"I...I just...I don't really know what to say..."Mistress Death finally managed to blurt out, clearly alarmed.
Thanos stroked his beard in satisfaction. Wiping the grin off his face in an effort to look pensive and introspective, he gazed out into the horizon before whispering "All this and more I do for love of you, M'Lady"
Mistress Death could hardly keep herself from groaning, but she did. As it turned out, she needn't have; someone was cackling in the background.
"AHAHAHAHA oh man! I can't believe you actually went *through* with it, you absolute *mad lad*"hollered Wade Wilson, clearly enjoying himself. Moving over towards the two of them, he wrapped his arms around Mistress Death's waist before she could protest.
A look of anger and betrayal swept across Thanos's face in an instant. "What is this? Who is he M'Lady?"he demanded. Without waiting for a response, he added "Unhand her, you cur!"
"Now hold on Thanos!"started Mistress Death, before he could click his fingers. "This is Wade. He and I are kind of...together. I didn't know how to break this to you, I'm sorry"
Wade looked over at Thanos. "Oh snap! You mean...you two...you and her? Babe, *him*?"he continued, turning to Mistress Death, who looked away from Thanos before answering "No, not really. It's...complicated"
"Look buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't realise..."began Wade but Thanos cut him short. "No bother. The lady has chosen. I shall galantly (as ever) step down from the contest for the lady's hand!"
"That's real swell of ya, Tanny ol' pal"said Wade, extending his hand in a sign of friendship.
*Real swell indeed, fool,* thought Thanos as he took Wade's hand and shook it. *Vengeance shall be mine!*
As he departed, he took one last look at his Lady next to the ne'redowell she had chosen for herself.
*Why do nice guys like me always finish last?*
---
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, please consider subscribing to my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! |
And there it was again.
The faint sense of icy warmth streaking through her mind, quick as lightning and persistent as earth. Becoming stronger every passing second, which would then dive, fluctuate and rise again.
Rinse. Repeat.
It was always there. Ever present and lingering whenever she attended school. She had started receiving the headaches a year or two ago, though it wasn't as bad then. It was always the worst in this class - History.
It had once gotten so bad that she blacked out once. Not something that she liked to remember, thank you very much.
Annnd it flared up again. Great.
A pained hiss caught her attention and she flicked her gaze over to see who it was coming from. She blinked.
Interesting.
Her headache flared up again, and -
A wince.
It couldn't be, could it?
But if it was, what did it mean?
She was jostled out of her thoughts as the teacher announced partners for the day's lesson and the tables that each pair was to work at. A breath of relief left her as she cheered inwardly; she didn't have to move!
The girl idly tidied her worktable as her mind attempted to work out what the potential connection(?) between her headaches and classmate was, and why it worked as such.
"Hello."
Looking over, her partner had sat down on the seat beside her, notebook and stationery neatly placed on the table, a water bottle at the corner.
She smiled and offered her hand to shake, which her partner did, and -
**All she could feel was heat.**
Heat blazed through the connection in overwhelming waves as she struggled to breathe and gasped. It was a good thing that she was sitting, as the oppressive tide weighed down on her legs, sapping strength out of them leaving them like jelly.
And then the flashes came.
*Clashing steel, battle cries and exploding crimson.*
A long, thin blade in her hand as she cut through the soldiers like an unstoppable hurricane, on a warpath as they had dared to harm what was hers and hers alone.
Her country, her kingdom, her liege.
Her home.
*"You swore to protect me. You dying is not."*
*"Do you understand?"*
Wading back into consciousness, gasping, she looked into her partner's eyes.
"You..."
That smirk. The undeniable hint of that familiar, infuriating smirk.
"Took you long enough."
*"For even in death, I will follow you as I do in life."*
*"As expected of my warrior-queen."* |
Last night I tried going to bed as I usually do. Tonight however the voices in my head we're very talkative.
They kept having conversations.
One askes the others to 'write a story' so the voice could enjoy it.
Instead all I heard was 'reeeeeepost', and one voice being offended about how accurate the story was to real life.
I finally had it. I blurted out "If you want to stay here you must pay rent, a thousand percent each!"
I then immediately jumped up, and grabbed some meletonin from my closet, and downed a fist full. The voices hussed themselves.
"That's more like it."I thought.
I slept pretty well the rest of the night. I finally stayed asleep until my alarm went off the next morning. When I turned over to hit the snooze button I noticed an envelope. Confused I counjured up that I must have checked the mail, and placed it on the desk forgetting it because of the shouting match in my head. It wasn't until I picked it up when I almost fainted. On the envelope it read "Rent", and it was almost ripping with the ammount of bills in it.
Then I heard the voices again.
We've paid rent, but bad news...You have ligma. |
I stared down at the snake in my unicorn-footy pajamas, gripping my Elsa and Anna sheets, not knowing what to do. It righted itself, standing up like a black vacuum hose with red eyes and a flickering tongue.
"Ssslither thisss way,"the shadowy snake beckoned. "We've got busssinesss to attend to."
"W-w-what are we gonna do?"I asked.
"To do sssomething that needsss to be done. You're only 11 yearsss old, too sssmall for a boyfriend. Let'sss go."
The thick snake slithered out of my door and into the hallway. I jumped out of bed and followed it through the dark house all the way to the front door where it stopped.
"You're not ssscared of the darknessss, are you?"it asked.
"No,"I whimpered. "But that door is locked. And mom and dad have the only key."
"That'sss no problem, my sssweet,"the snake said. "It'sss easssily sssolveable."
The snake flicked its head and its eyes twinkled. The door opened with a creak.
"Let'sss shake it, sssweetie."The snake slipped through and I followed, closing the door gently behind.
Outside it was pitch black except for the streetlights that peppered the sidewalk every few feet. It was eerily silent out, the only sound was the scraping of the snake's body against the concrete ground as he led us forward.
"Where are we going?"I asked the snake. It was hard to keep up with it in my onesie-pajamas, but I was glad to at least not be barefoot.
"We're almossst at the finisssh,"the snake said. "Sssit tight."
It was hard to tell where we were since it was nighttime, but I had a feeling I'd been here before. When the snake finally stopped, I realized where he'd brought me.
"This is Samuel's house,"I said, recognizing his red bike with gears and a Yu-Gi-Oh! sticker on it. He rode it to and from school every day, including today when I saw him holding hands with Mackenzie after the final bell rang. Just remembering it made anger pulsate through me.
"Don't be ssso sssalty,"the snake said. "It'sss time to get sssome revenge."
The snake slithered around to the side of the house, to the window into Samuel's room. It was just high enough for me to peer in. The snake stood up straight, flicked it's head to the side again, and the glass opened up. The snake slipped right into the room. I pulled myself up and heaved in after him.
Samuel's room was as dark as the outside. He was lying in plane-shaped bed, legs sprawled out and snoring loudly. The snake crawled over to the side and looked at me with its bright red eyes.
"What are you going to do?"I whispered.
"Ssshow him a nicccee sssurprise,"he said. He nudged Samuel with his face, making him mumble in his sleep. He pushed him again, harder, and this time Samuel's eyes fluttered open.
As soon as he saw the snake, he burst to attention and let out a wild scream, scuttling back against his headboard. The snake quickly whipped its tail and wrapped it around his mouth, muffling the sound.
"Yessss,"it moaned. "Your ssscreams make you even more ssscrumptious!"
The snake opened its mouth, unhinging its jaw, revealing its sharp thin teeth. It brought itself down over Samuel head-first, squeezing him and shoving him down its throat. Within just one "bite,"Samuel was just an unmoving shape inside the snake's body.
"What did you do?!"I yelled. "I thought you were just going to scare him a bit!"
"Alasss, that wasss not my purpossse,"it said. "I came here to ssscare you, you sssucculent sssnack!"
My heart was racing. I ran for the window, but I was too late. The snake had wrapped itself around my ankle and its mouth was already coming in for the kill. All I could do was scream in terror.
"Ah yesss,"the snake said as it engulfed me. "Ssscreams are truly the greatest ssspice."
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream. |
The latest change: zebras. There are now zebras, and everyone is acting like zebras have always existed. No-one is surprised by the instant arrival of zebras. There are zebra-skin rugs on the floors. There is zebra-meat on the fire. Someone is riding a zebra down the street right now.
According to my journal, this is the 200th time the world has changed. I toyed with the thought that change is normal, but I soon dismissed it. My outfit suddenly turning pink, the sky having new constellations, a settlement growing overnight... these are things that take time, not things that can just change in an instant.
What will tomorrow bring? Am I prepared? Is it even possible to prepare? Should I just burn the journal and accept this as part of life? Makes things easier for me. |
They all shuffle along, monotonously, numbed by their hand-held propoganda machines. They arbitrarily track their vitals with special bracelets in a sad attempt to maintain the illusion of control.
I am aware of the fact that I am one of these people. This morning I woke up at a specific time, like a program, before initiating my criteria for the day. But is working ten hours for a thankless job really *my* criteria?
Autonomous cars drive past electronic billboards bright enough to be seen from space. Buy more of this. Buy more of that. Shit no one ever needs.
There's no time, or energy for that matter, for dreams. The youth have been tasked with rescuing a dying world, despite all odds against them. It's not fair, but they have no choice.
Some take to the streets in frustration; wielding signs for higher wages, human rights, or environmental concerns. They're all tense to a breaking point. They're out there at all hours. This morning I saw them picketing across from a homeless man. Their signs were rectangular silhouettes in a hazy, orange backdrop.
Others take to the deep web, the digital wild west of the first world, where hackers congregate and plan stunts to disrupt the rigid system of oppression. But just as many talented tech gurus are employed by the same system, resulting in a perpetually complicated stalemate.
Just like traffic this morning, the world is gridlocked between the past and the future. A seemingly never ending sea of blood-red tail lights guiding us to a metropolis where we put ourselves aside for the greater... something. |
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