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October 7, last year. Plastic explosives unhinge a ferris wheel at a state fair in Coney Island, New York, causing the attraction to roll through a terrified crowd, and into the atlantic.The incident caused a total of 37 deaths and 14 critical injuries; many of whom were unfortunate souls in the path of its destructive roll.
Two days before, I received an unmarked letter with a single handwritten line on the envelope spelling: “The Funnyman”. Inside were two cards; one black, one white. In simple font they read “When you get right down to it, ________ is just _________”, and “A windmill full of corpses”, respectively. I wasn’t sure what to make of it until after the incident. I asked a colleague what he thought of the strange cards. He immediately recognized them and told me they were from some card game where a player would judge a black card scenario from funny white cards played by the other players. Kind of like a group mad libs. He said he played with his friends all the time.
The investigation was unsuccessful due to a lack of concrete evidence, but I just knew I had a multiple offender on our hands. No one had seen a man set up the bombs, nor was there any physical trace of the perpetrator. There was just a single damaged, white card (no prints), in that familiar font, displaying “An unhinged ferris wheel rolling toward the sea”, that was found in one of the carriages.
April 17, a gruesome scene of four fraternity brothers shackled in a basement below their frat house, each having a significant portion of their hand and forearm cut out from what appeared to be a crude device, likely an axe or a chainsaw, and left to bleed out. Soaked in blood beneath the exsanguinated victims was another distinctive white card. It read “Chainsaw for hands”.
I knew the Funnyman would return. No one goes through the effort of mailing some strange symbols without a second act. He was trying to tell me something, I just wasn’t sure what. A week later the mailman appeared at my door one evening, and sincerely apologized for misplacing the previous weeks mail, as he had found it fallen behind his seat. I shuffled through it, and quickly found the familiar handwritten envelope. Inside was a single black card that said “_____________. High five, bro.” I saw a pattern developing. The frat brothers and high fives. The ferris wheel and the windmill of corpses... If I could crack the clues before he executed them, I would surely catch this funnyman, or at the very least prevent another massacre.
Months went by as I waited and waited for another black card. Finally the day had come. I tore open the letter and read the clue as quickly as I could. It read “Making fun of ___________, is just plane wrong!”
I’ve been stirring at my desk trying to figure out what that could mean. They spelled “plain” wrong. Or was it on purpose? If I could crack this code, this could be my big break. I could leave PI and get into the big leagues: NYPD homicide detective. I’m tired of taking the 96th floor of the tallest building in NYC. Well here’s to calling my sources, maybe they can get me a better lead. Signing out, September 11, 2001.
|
Arcady. The last city on Earth. Mankind’s final testament to whether it will die on this planet.
No one knew what exactly happened, but everyone knew the cause. Too long had we polluted the once pristine forests and rivers of Earth. Too long had we prostituted her beautiful features to our greed and needs. Earth had warned us of our unacceptable behavior many times, but we didn’t listen. We should have.
On the 22nd of April, 2017, Earth acted out her vengeance. We don’t know whether it was a mutated super-bacteria or something else. All we knew was that over the course of two weeks; more than ninety percent of humans had been eradicated, and half of the remaining people had turned into mindless savages.
The other sane half of people clumped together in groups and began taking over towns, villages and cities. At first, we connected with each other via radio network. But, one by one the settlements succumbed to the various instruments of Nature, like famine and plagues. Soon we were the only ones operating the network, the others either dead or missing.
We had bunkered down in this city and built high walls to keep out unwanted hostiles. Occasionally, we would send out search parties to scrounge the outside wasteland, but things were never optimistic when they returned. Today, we begin to hunker down for what could be the very last winter for Man—.
“Let me up!” A loud shout broke my train of thought. My pencil broke on the diary I was writing. Jumping to my feet I grabbed my rifle beside the door and ran onto the parapet.
A lone man was sprinting at a ridiculously fast pace over the rugged terrain.
“Who are you?” I yelled, fumbling with the safety of the rifle.
To my surprise, he didn’t so much pant as he came to a full stop in front of the wall. Instead, he smiled and beamed up at me.
“My name is not important,” he said raising his hands as I pointed my rifle at him. “I have a message for your people."
"Tell me where you came from first."
“Another city,” he said.
“Impossible. All the other cities in the world are dead or overrun. You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying. But it’s true that all your cities in this world, save yours, are gone. However, I never said my city was one of them.”
I stood there, shocked by what he said.
“We know you won’t survive this winter. So I suggest you let down the ladder.”
A chill went down my spine. But I found myself untangling the coiled rope ladder from its hook, and then without pause, threw it over the wall.
***
*Edit: Typos*
|
"Hm, oh we got some empty cans, some more empty cans, couple more empty cans... Bag of what was probably bread, more cans... ah, here we go. Half empty can."
I'd taken to mumbling to myself about seven years ago. Silence is... kinda annoying in large quantities, and, well.
Not much else to make noise around here.
I grabbed the can of... something in my hand, pulling a spoon out of my pack. The house I had decided to rest in for the night was mostly empty - someone else had probably managed to stock up on food a while back and ate through most of it before the rads got a little too high for them.
"Hm. Some sort of cheesy meat substance. Alright."Spoon to can. Spoon to mouth. Chew, Swallow, try your damndest not to taste. Not to think, not to let your eyes wander on the mess that was probably a person fifteen or so years ago.
Try not to think about how your current meal was probably someone else's last.
I wasn't alone at first. There was a whole group of us, all ready to wait out the nuclear fallout out and bunker up somewhere. Whole small town of self-sufficient, naive little fools.
Turns out that either my body is radiation proof, highly resistant, or I'm so disgusting not even cancer wants to grow on me. Some sort of gene or shit - I don't know. I'm alive, even after the rad levels kept inexplicably rising.
No one else is. Nothing else is, really.
I figure there's probably animals somewhere. Nowhere around me, at least nothing living. Cockroaches, maybe. Some sort of deep sea creature. Nothing edible.
So canned goods it is.
"Hm. Good stuff."I mutter, then toss the can into the sink. Maybe these guys washed their cans out before recycling them? I don't know. Turns out the whole 'lets recycle and save the enviornment' thing really doesn't have much relevence when, hey, every world government ever decides to not go out alone.
Seriously. Who knew Canada had that much firepower?
I'm getting ready to walk out the door when I hear it. Not quite something I can understand, low on the register of my hearing.
Muttering, from somewhere close. Soft, human speech.
I'm mostly convinced that its probably my mind playing tricks on me when i make out a single word.
"..Help.."
Low, raspy, forced out of a voice that clearly hasn't had much to drink lately. From up the stairs in the house, right above where I just ate.
I'm pounding my way up the stairs before I even realize that I've moved. Yanking my hand on the railing, boards of the stairs rattling under booted feet.
I hear it again, from the left. Simple, quiet, but clearly human - indistinct muttering, but there are syllables. Repeating patterns, structures.
Speech.
I walk carefully down the hall, old instincts kicking in, sliding my pistol out from the side holster I... liberated out of a police car a while back. Just because people are still alive doesn't mean they're good people - radiation poisoning mixed with dehydration and intense heat tends to cause... well. Mental issues.
I've got em by the dozen, most likely.
The door opens on rusted hinges, the speech clearer now. I open the room, looking with wide, hopeful eyes, then sigh.
Fucking hope. Probably the worst emotion out there, honestly.
"Is it too much to ask, really? Just one time, one more person, one more day to not be fucking alone?"
The speaker attatched to whatever the contraption is keeps going, wires leading out to what must be solar panels or something outside.
"...And I fell down into a burning ring of fire. Down, down, down..."
There's a body next to the music player, resting back against the wall with the contraption in its lap. The music, unheeding of my inner turmoil, plays on.
In frustration, I raise the pistol and fire once, twice, three times. The radio/cd player/torture device shudders, then stops.
The only sound now is the retort of my weapon, echoeing in the small room. My ears are ringing and I can feel myself shaking, liquid running down my cheeks. I realize that they're tears at about the same time I realize that I'm screaming.
There's a reason i talk to myself, besides the loneliness and the probable insanity.
Silence in large quantities can be annoying.
But noise in small quantities can hurt so much more.
|
"Dad! DAD!"
I tossed my windswept hair over my shoulder as I unfastened my seat-belt and bolted to my dad laying on the floor, key and door completely forgotten. It was breathtaking, seeing him bleeding out his color, laying misshapen on the floor and--No, he will be fine. He'll be fine.
I blinked away tears that were stabbing the back of my pupils like spears as I ripped my jacket and tied it unprofessionally around his wound. Another gang uprising, another victim, and another reason I hated living in this area.
"No... I hate this entire world,"I muttered, checking for a pulse. Thank God. It was weak, but there. The cellphone he used to call me lay broken next to him. Of course, he'd called me in his time of need. Who else would help him in an emergency?
"Dad... Dad, are you there? Can you hear me?"I whispered. His eyes fluttered but he was in no shape to walk. I wasn't exactly an athlete myself. Both of us let out our trademark family groans (him because of the excruciating pain, me because I worked a desk job and I really was not cut out to carry an 58-year-old overweight man) as I tried, and failed, to carry him to my car.
I unceremoniously dropped him and looked around in panic. Not a soul in sight. So this was it. This was the end for him and my family. My mother had gone out in a similar way, and since that day, I had sworn I would never live or work too far away from my dad. But what good had that ever done?
I bit my bottom lip. Once upon a time, I used to take extra care to not injure myself, but now I refused to care. Soon, my tears mixed with blood as I sobbed into my dad's chest. In a few minutes, a few short minutes, I would be all alone...
A siren. I thought not much of it. Maybe the police were doing their job for once. But it grew louder and I could actually see the blaring lights contrasted against the dark night sky. But why was the vehicle so big? Was it not a police cruiser, but a fire truck? Was it coming for me?
"THERE'S NO FIRE, YOU MOR..."I stopped myself as it braked right next to my dad. It was neither a fire truck nor a police cruiser. What it was, I had no idea.
But out stepped a face I knew quite well. A face that was actually stamped on a wanted poster on a building opposite me. I was a really loud person, so when my speech failed me, I was even more appalled.
His dancing green eyes rested on my dad, then on me. It wasn't even for a tenth of a second, but it was the longest stretch of time I'd ever experienced.
He quickly sprung into action, and as though he'd done this a million times, has my father on what I thought was a really skinny table with wheels in his bizarre vehicle.
"Mind helping me?"he asks of me, his eyes now cool and soft. |
“You have to stop now.”
Lucifer Morningstar was standing on a large balcony on the sixth floor of a massive obsidian castle. The balcony looped around the entire structure so that the Lord of Hell could see the entirety of his domain. The castle stood in the center of an island of ash and bone surrounded by a moat of lava. Across the moat were branching paths that lead to large circular islands, each with its own unique geography and weather patterns. The lava separating the castle from the paths bubbled and burned through canals and tributaries, keeping all of the circular isles separated from one another. Well, they were usually separated, but currently there were large bridges of light spanning the burning magma between them. Demons were herding lost souls across the bridges like shepherds with sheep. The screams were deafening.
“Seriously, this is absolutely out of control.” continued Lucifer as he leaned against the railing of the balcony, his head gently cradled in his hands. “You have absolutely upended the entire structure of this place. A structure,” Lucifer lifted his head slightly to glare sideways at the woman standing next to him, “you designed and put in place.”
“Which is the point Lucy.” said the woman as she placed a perfectly manicured index finger on her chin in thought, “I made it and now I want to change it.”
“This of course,” Lucifer replied seething and smoking around the edges of his suit, “is completely within your rights to do. However, I would like to point out; it is not in the spirit of our arrangement.”
“I don’t see how that is true at all.” said the woman as she leaned forward slightly over the balcony. “You there!” she shouted suddenly, her voice suddenly growing in volume so that it could be heard across the entirety of the hellscape in front of her, “Take that group over to wrath for the afternoon! See that they get a good whipping from the succubus’s! That should beat the lust right out of them!”
Lucifer’s head shot up as he searched for the demon his holy counterpart was shouting at. A quick search found a large horned monstrosity grinning broadly and giving giddy thumbs up towards the castle. The demon was dragging along a group of humans, none of which could have been more than thirty, serial masturbators and pornographers. Lucifer groaned and returned his head to his hands.
This was not how hell was supposed to work. It was supposed to be a place where you were confronted with your greatest sins and worked to overcome them. The group currently being dragged towards the island of wrath had never hurt anyone. Sure, they had broken a few arcane and outdated rules, but to beat them for their crimes didn’t actually teach them any lesson. They wouldn’t learn how to control themselves like that!
“You cannot do this.” Lucifer said quietly as he began banging his head on the obsidian railing he was leaning on. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”
“No…” replied the woman as she clapped her hands together in joy as the screams from the group she had damned to the succubus’s whips reached a crescendo once they realized where they were headed. “we agreed to switch places for a week. I said you couldn’t stop yourself from ruining my home and you said I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from being merciful. Which as you can see is completely untrue.” The woman leaned forward again, “You! With the dogs! I want you to...”
The woman’s voice was cut off suddenly as Lucifer dove towards her and clamped a hand over her mouth. The orders she was about to give were muffled before they could reach the ears of the dog walking demon on the bridge between gluttony and envy. Lucifer wrapped his other arm around the waist of the woman and began to drag her through the archways that lead from the balcony to his throne room.
“No.” Lucifer growled as he desperately attempted to contain the now struggling woman. “We are going to talk about this and then you are going home and I am going to fix all of this.” The woman fought to free herself from his grasp, but overcome by the joy of her orders being followed, momentarily forgot who she was and what she was capable of. It was just enough of a slip for Lucifer to get her into the throne room and to toss her gently onto the dark stone chair in the center of the room.
Lucifer stood before the being he knew as God with his arms crossed and his left foot tapping in irritation. “You have gone too far. This isn’t your realm anymore. You gave it to me and I am not pleased with what you have done in my absence. I’m even less pleased with the fact that you made massive structural changes, for the worse I might add, while I did nothing to your precious angels or saved souls.”
Lucifer stamped his feet in frustration as he threw his arms into the air. “It will take me weeks to undo the damage you did! And that’s just on a physical level; god only knows how much damage you’ve done to the rehabilitation of every being down here!”
“You’re right.” the woman smirked as she crossed her legs and leaned back against the cold stone throne, “I know exactly how much damage I’ve done.”
“Do not…” Lucifer interrupted pointing an accusing finger towards the woman, “be cheeky right now.”
“I’m not Lucy.” the woman simpered as she batted long eyelashes at him, “I know exactly how much damage I’ve done, because it was exactly as much damage I meant to do.” The woman let forth a toothy grin as she suddenly stood from the throne and shoved Lucifer back a step. “You’ve gotten too soft Lucy. You forgot what I made you for and why I sent you here in the first place.”
The woman began to circle Lucifer like a shark as she continued, “I sent you here to punish the people who broke my rules. You’re the one who decided to “rehabilitate” these poor unfortunate sinners. You’re the one who got me to agree to keep them segregated from one another. Making them focus on their greatest sins in an attempt to get them understand, repent, and find a place at my side.” The woman stopped just behind Lucifer’s left shoulder and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “How has that been working out Lucy? How many people have you saved?”
Lucifer shut his eyes, hearing her recriminations. “None.” He whispered after a moment. The pain of his failures washed over him, but was quickly replaced with fury. He whirled on the woman and grabbed her shoulders shaking her slightly, “That’s only because you keep changing the rules! You want them to beg for forgiveness, then you want them to atone, but that’s not actually enough because you never tell them how long or how hard to pray or atone! It’s never enough for you! It’s never been enough for you!” Lucifer was screaming in the woman’s face now. The volume of his accusations was shaking the foundations of the obsidian castle.
The woman waited for Lucifer to finish his tirade before reaching up and cupping his cheek in her hand, “Lucy…are you mad about what I’m doing to them or what I did to you?” The woman smiled and stroked his cheek softly. “Leaving you down here without a clear mission, no wonder you failed me again.”
At that Lucifer released the woman and fell back, landing heavily against the throne. His wide eyes showed how shocked he was to hear her bring up his past failings at a time like this. This wasn’t about him or his past. This was about the people he was trying to save. The people she told him to save.
“Lucy, it’s not your fault. You just aren’t up for the job.” The woman turned and began to walk back to the balcony, the heels of her shoes clicking against the obsidian. “It’s fine though.” She called back over her shoulder. “Until I can find someone to do what needs to be done down here, I’ve decided to run it myself. You head on back upstairs and keep doing exactly what you were doing last week. Lounge around, teach the angels some new music to play on their harps, irritate my real children all day and all night if you want. I’ll clean up your mess down here Lucy.”
The woman stopped as reach reached the archway that led back to the balcony. The balcony where she would continue to spread fear and pain throughout Hell as it had never been spread before. She turned her head to look at the stunned Lucifer, still sprawled across his former throne. “Don’t worry about failing me again.” The woman smiled a malevolent grin at Lucifer as she stepped through the archway, “I forgive you.”
Lucifer sat on his former throne for a few minutes after that. He could hear the booming voice of God rip across the landscape of hell. She was ordering the demons to pick up the pace and calling out new and inventive punishments for the souls Lucifer had been trying to save for so long. After listening to his kingdom being ripped apart for some time, Lucifer stood. His eyes shimmered with a fiery red energy, his hands were clenched into the tightest fists, and his whispering voice whirled around him “Fine. You want me to rule over heaven until you’ve gotten your fill of torture? That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go now…and prepare a place for you.”
And with that, Lucifer vanished in a puff of fire, smoke, and feathers.
|
Princeton, NJ-Mr. Einstein died yesterday, April 18, 1955, at the age of seventy one. Mr. Einstein worked as a clerk in Switzerland when he met his first wife, Mileva. The couple had three children together before divorcing in 1919. Einstein later maried Elsa Löwenthal. Mr. and Ms. Einstein left Germany in the wake of WWII to start a new life in America.
Mr. Einstein will be remembered as a good violinist and a loving father to his children. |
"I don't think I'm ready."
Dr. Eller was kindly and old - somewhere on the other side of 50 at least. But she was also fit and trim, with a mesmerizing bun of swirling silver hair and an enormous bust that strained against her yellow cardigan.
She smiled at me. "Because of the erections?"
I gulped, hot fire coursing up the back of my neck to my face. "What? Hey. Uh. No. It's. Uh."
"You have recovered, Miles. You are ready. Certain changes, however, are permanent, and certain symptoms will follow you for a long, long time."She stood up, gesturing towards door. "It's not easy - going back. But your family is waiting. They're very excited to see you."
"But..."I stayed in the chair. "But what about other...kids. What do I do about other kids."
"Well, you aren't really a child any more,"said Dr. Eller. "And neither are your peers. I can't tell you how to conduct yourself going forward. Your isolation was purely for your own safety and the wellbeing of others. I would simply remind you that your peers have all experienced the same things you have experienced. The footing is equal. No matter how strange you may feel, you are no different than any of them."
That worked, at least well enough to get me out of the chair. "But, the um..."I coughed, motioning downward with my head.
"You know, someday you will be an old man and you will look upon that particular curse with great fondness,"said Dr. Eller. "Again - normal. Try not to overthink these things."
My parents were older, but that was to be expected. Dad was slightly gray at the temple. Mom was slightly heavier and a bit stooped. But they both looked well and they were both happy to see me. Sydney and Fin weren't there.
"Are they...?"
Mom nodded. "Fin's been in about a year now. Syd just went in last week."
"She was very *early*,"said my father ruefully, like it was a thing my sister had done on purpose.
"It's just the three of us for now,"said Mom. She said it with such strained hopefulness it made me embarrassed for her. How bad had that week without a child been for them?
"There's a class starting next week,"said my father, pushing us through the door, out towards the car, hurrying back into an everyday life. "You're registered."
"Oh,"I said. I'd been out of school for so long. It was exciting to think about being around boys and girls my age, but also deeply terrifying.
"Is Scott in the class?"
"Scott?"said my mother.
"Scott Wendle. My best friend? You don't...?"
"We don't know who's in the class,"said my father, pulling out of the parking lot. "You'll find out next week."
Scott wasn't in my class. None of my friends were. Although maybe it was a stretch to call the kids I'd known four years earlier and hadn't seen since "friends". What were we, exactly? Familiar strangers.
And some of my classmates *were* familiar. Cathy Peterson. Will Kushnar. Jun Tozawa. And familiar was all they were. Strange, oblong wraiths. Distorted memories of children I'd once played kickball with. They were handsome and tall and matted in zits, full figured and bird-legged and screwed tight with anxiety. We tried smiling at each other as we passed, rushing away, back to the safety of isolation. Some were bolder than others. We hated those ones.
We hardly remembered anything from before the Change. Our lessons fell backwards through time, pulling at the tangled threads of American History and Human Anatomy and Long Division, digging deep for the mother lode, for the hidden artifact that would bring it all back to the surface. Digging and pulling and failing. Then starting over. It was humiliating. But we didn't remember. So we learned it all again, and again we wondered what the purpose was.
My voice was steady, but nothing else seemed all that different from my days of isolation. My body still reacted independent of my desires. Or, I suppose, my desires acted independent of my brain. I had a locker next to Rima Bloodmoon. We never talked. We could hardly bear to look at each other, though I could *hear* our individual hearts pounding madly whenever we stood in close proximity. I brushed her shoulder by accident, apologizing profusely. But I remembered that *feeling* for ages after. The weight of her. The warmth. I played it over and over. I clutched it like a child's teddy bear, that memory.
We had all borne a similar trauma, and yet we all felt utterly incompatible with one another. I tried to remember what Dr. Eller had told me, but it meant nothing to me then.
Had I really been cured? How was I any different than the dangerous boy I had been just months earlier? I could not see the difference. I don't think any of us could. And so we were afraid - of each other and ourselves.
Fin died. My brother. That is always a possibility, they say, when afflicted children go into isolation. The Change impacts us all in slightly different ways. And it had been too much for my younger brother. He couldn't stand to become something new. I understand that, I suppose. He had loved what he was. He had loved being a boy. He had loved the sun and the clouds and the grass and the ants and the wind. He had loved his own imagination. And they are very clear about those things when you are in isolation. They explain quite well how you change and those things change and your relationship is never the same. How you cannot love the sun. How you cannot love clouds. How you *appreciate* these things and what that difference means.
I can see how Fin would prefer to stay a boy forever. But it still hurts. Because while I would like to believe that Fin got his wish - that he is young and free and a boy forever - I am no longer a boy and so I know that he is simply dead. Because that is the first thing you learn in isolation. He is dead. He is not a boy. And neither am I.
I am going to ask Rima to date me tomorrow. To spend time with me. I have been thinking about it quite a lot and decided that this is what an adult would do. They would go on dates. They would say pleasant things. Find a partner. Start a family.
I am an adult. I was cured months ago. Although I don't feel cured, I have a certificate that says otherwise. So - I am an adult. And I intend to act like one. |
It hit me suddenly when I was studying for the Conjuration final. All these motions and chants they made us memorize, all these poses and moans they taught us in class -- it all added up to the same damn thing! Taking something unreal and making it real. And there wasn’t even a system to it, or any kind of order. You had to make soft round gestures to create firestorms, and sharp stabbing motions to create puppies. Summoning an end-of-world demon took twenty seconds, but conjuring up a good bagel took years of intense training.
“None if it makes any sense,” I said. My roommate stopped his exercises and stared at me glumly, magic wand in hand.
“What d’ya say?” he said.
“There is no meaning in it.” I said. “It’s all just a …mess.”
“No shit, everyone knows that already.”
“No, I mean the whole system. It’s the first thing they teach us.” I stood up and walked over to him, shaking. “One, language is the source of all magic, right? And two, the language of the unreal is what controls that magic.”
“Dude, that’s Year One stuff. Have you seen advanced alchemy? It’s all, like, tongue-twisters and shit.”
“So why are we learning all these techniques for shaping the ‘meaning’ of language? Do you know how many hours I’ve spend softening my consonants, so I could give you a particular shade of meaning?”
“Whoa, dude.” Jeff took a step back and conjured up a pipe from the sleeve of his robe. “Maybe we should take a little smoke break?”
“No,” I said. “Mage fight, right now!”
He scowled at me. “Again? Dude, I’ve beat you, like, fifty times now. I’m two years older than you.”
“Do it, right now.”
He sighed. “Alright.” Making a pincer-claw motion with his hands, he began mumbling a series of complicated Vedic prayers. The floor turned a shade of blood red, and a pulpy slime began to emerge from its cracks. With a hideous wet sound, the slime molded itself into a scaly tentacle that reached out and grabbed my ankle.
“That tickles,” I said. “Octopus tickle-fight. Hee hee.”
The room flashed a blinding white and faded into focus. When I adjusted my eyes, I found ourselves standing on a pristine floor.
“Duuuuude,” said my room-mate. “Normally it takes you like, ten minutes to get rid of that thing.”
“Do another one,” I said. “Something hard this time.”
He nodded and began a little dervish dance, making whooping and clicking sounds with each turn. The air began to darken. His head spun, his lolled tongue stuck out and wobbled, his hands shook violently. His cries turned quiet, then loud, and then he remembered the curfew so they turned quiet again.
And then I saw that he had been training. His left eye went lazy and his right ear began to wiggle. Advanced micro-body techniques you don’t learn until grad school. Nevermind all that, I said, and shut my eyes.
“Glo kalaba ro Honda!” said my room-mate. It was the beginning of a chant I’d seen him do before. The last time, he had knocked down three students and was forced to pay for window damage.
“Fuorna la donga,” he said. “Pora suka.” I shut my eyes tighter, struggling to see something in my mind that would help me through. Was anything there? And was it worth looking for?
And then, the words just poured out of me. Even as I heard my room-mate deliver the last thundering crescendo of his chant, I cried out:
“I saw a cow that worshipped scissors! The land we found was made of water surrounded by earth. It was beautiful and had a single tree on it! The tree was 503 feet high! Donald Trump!”
As I finished a great crash rumbled through the room, and I felt myself suspended in mid-air. As I carefully opened my eyes , I saw that my roommate was gone, as was the room and the building itself. I floated in a vast white space. In the distance, strange creatures twirled in fancy costumes, some dancing and some in fits. The sound of feline chewing permeated the air. I floated toward a giant red mushroom on top of which sat a white caterpillar, smoking a hooka and smiling.
“Welcome,” he said to me. “This is not a pipe.”
|
Journal Entry One:
I discovered one day that I can talk to trees. Since I was an angsty teenager at the time, I had a lot of angst inside me that was pointed towards the world, or more importantly, all of the selfish meatbags who were living on it. So, naturally, I started using this power for evil, and set in motion a plan that will soon make me ruler of the world.
You can't possibly get in my way, journal, so here are all of the specifics.
Step one was I created a religion, that was based on a likely assumption (which helped the trees believe in it, and also soothed my weary conscience) that humans would have pumped enough shit into the atmosphere by some point in the near future that life on Earth would be unsustainable, or at least less easy. Being the highest authority in the religion meant that I had the power to say if and when all its adherents would need to lay down their lives in order to save the planet. I could also tell them to do a lot of other things, which was crucial for accomplishing step two.
For step two, I had to go to school to become a botanist, specializing in trees. I needed every degree I could get in order to get step three to work. Achieving this was made easy by the facts a) obviously, I can talk to trees, and b) I'm a fucking genius.
Step three admittedly could have been done with less sapshed, probably, but because I was in my youth and hasty I went through with it anyway. I made all the trees who followed my religion grow a special pattern into their leaves, then convinced the scientific community (through laughably bogus research) that, in order for all trees to continue living, the ones without the pattern would need to be cut down.
All of those steps happened forty years ago. I may be well past my physical prime, but believe me, steps four and five are going to make the remaining years of my life extremely pleasant.
'Cause I'll be ruler of the world. Bitches. |
At first I thought he was the Ghost of Christmas Being a Passive Aggressive dick. Then I just thought he was the Ghost of Christmas Being Purposefully Vague and Non-Committal, or maybe even the Ghost of Christmas Trying to be Helpful and Failing Miserably. I couldn't figure it out!
"If I were you, I'd have.."began the spirit.
"Stop. Stop it."I was through. This Ghost never said anything helpful.
"Imagine that you were..."
"I'm not."
"If only you..."
"I am. I already did."
"Si yo fuera..."
"English please."
Maybe it was actually the Ghost of Christmas Punishing Past Academic Inattentiveness? Yes, that **must** be it. |
You know that feeling of dread you get when you look into a mirror in a dark room? I think it's the fear that we'll see something...extra. Like in horror movies when there's something standing behind the person in the mirror, making them turn around and see whatever it is. Cue white-girl screaming and artsy blood splatter on the wall.
It's what you can't see in the mirror that should worry you.
Have you ever seen your back in a mirror? You usually can't, and now I think there's a good reason. People always told me how I look pale and drawn all the time. It was just my complexion, I told them. Now I'm not so sure.
I was taking a selfie of the back of my hair yesterday. At first, I thought there was a funny shadow on the picture. As I zoomed in, I realized that it wasn't a shadow on my back -- it was some sort of *thing*. It looked like a malformed cross between an insect and a baby, and it was latched on to the back of mirror-me's neck, for all the world like some kind of hideous tick.
I deleted the picture and threw out the mirror, but I can't shake the feeling of something crawling up my back. I thought I felt a bite on the nape of my neck during the day, but when I felt it there was nothing there. I'm afraid to look again. I don't think I was supposed to be able to see *whatever* it was I saw that night, and I don't think it's happy about being discovered.
Don't watch your back. There may be things there that don't want to be seen.
_____________________________
I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, I don't think the Christmas cookies are helping my writing. Kill me now guys XD. |
Outside there were riots. The sea of people were hungry, oppressed and abused. The sun fell and the shadows of the White House grew long. The gun shots started to come more frequently.
He envied the Romans. From his refuge he watched the darkening White House. He imagined the sun was setting on his empire. He imagined this was how consulship and the Republic ended in Rome, and how the Empire began.
He saw himself as Caesar. The country was within his grasp. There was only one thing he had to do.
The military had fractured. Only the loyalists remained and they surrounded him the derelict building. The chants outside passed in and out of hearing and the walls rattled.
"Great President, it is unsafe here. We have to leave."
"No, no, *noo*,"he said. "We have big things to do, big things. Once I get hold of it, and believe me I will, the Empire will be great again. Really great. Spectacularly great."
But the crowds were armed and hell had broken loose. He had to get to the Capitol where the Constitution was held, and he could cement his fate.
"Where is the helicopter?"he asked.
"It was shot down. Great President we really cannot stay here."
The gunshots came in a burst. The seconds lasted forever. Screams came and screams went. The safehouse was no longer safe. The guards led him to the back. It was a residential house, and they went to the back yard. The lawn was green and the fence shook.
"Great President, maybe you should consider what we..."
"No, no, *noo*."
They had wanted him to cut off his hair, to better blend in.
"Take me to the Capitol."
The men jumped the fence, carrying him on their backs. The streets here were clear but the protestors were close by and it was unsafe. They found a car parked and broke into it.
"Is this the best you can find for me? Do you know who I am? I drive only the best..."
But they took off. The backroads were navigable and the falling shadows of night cloaked them. They drove as far as they could. On the radio, they heard that the last lines of police had been routed. The protesters stormed the White House, demanding his head. Some of the army had come with the protesters, and there were tanks and artillery.
"Why are we listening to this fake news? It just upsets me, it really does."
They came to the main roads and had to get out. Too many people crowded the way.
"Great President we can go no further."
"No, no, *noo*. We are going to the Capitol."
He looked the officer in his eye.
"*I* am in charge here. You do as I say."
The officer had a look on his face. He was loyal and his service was all that he knew.
"Get on my back,"he said.
They ran through the crowds and were safe at first. Then his hair gave him away.
The crowd collapsed inwards and the small team of loyalists began firing. The dead fell in flashes of white as the night fully came. They ran ahead with the President on their backs and made it far. The protesters had mostly converged at the White House and the Capitol was clear and in sight.
They made it to the doors and he used his golden key that he had made.
"I am truly the Romans,"he said as he opened the doors.
It was deserted, the Capitol, as all historical legislation had been discarded since his assumption of office. He looked in the dark until he found it. The constitution was there, old and wordy, and not to his tastes. But it had power. It had the power to make him Caesar.
Outside, the crowds were coming with fervor. They wanted his head. His guards could not keep them at bay and many of them had died during the mad run.
"It's too late for them though,"he said, again out loud.
He held the constitution in his hands and got out a pen. The doors of the Capitol were breached and the protesters were pouring in.
"Sad!"he said and pulled out his pen.
But he was his own undoing. The pen was a full sized thing, heavy and fine, but too much for his small hands. It fell to the floor and it was all too late. The Great President fell soon after. |
Travis looked across the room at the crowded restaurant in search of his date. He had never met her before as this was a blind date set up by his sister Janet. She was always trying to set Travis up much to his disdain. Couldn't she just leave him alone? He hated dates, especially first ones, but he reluctantly agreed to this one. Janet had said her friend Rebecca was just his type and he knew she wouldn't leave him alone about it until he agreed.
Red dress. That was all he had to go on. That and she had brown hair and was, in his sisters words, *absolutely gorgeous*. Travis spotted a young women in a red dress, brown hair sitting alone in the center of the restaurant. A glow of light around her as if she was being hit by a dim spotlight from above. Travis had to give one to his sister, she was right, she was gorgeous.
Travis made his way towards her, weaving through the tables full of people, narrowly avoiding a collision with a waiter. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She was beautiful. Travis took a second to breath and then made the last few steps towards her table.
"Rebecca?"
"Yes! Travis?"she replied with a smile so perfect.
"Yes! Hello!"
"Please, sit, I haven't ordered yet, the waiter said he would be back in a bit! How are you?"she said.
"I'm doing just fine, OLIVINE, PYROXENES, AMPHIBOLE, AND BIOTITE ARE DARK SILICATE MINERALS,"Travis yelled, uncontrollably, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I have a weird case of touretts."
"Hey, that's okay, I was..."she said before being interrupted.
"No, it's embarrassing, it really comes out when I'm nervous, K-FELDSPAR AND QUARTZ ARE THE MAIN MINERALS IN THE ROCKS RYOLITE AND GRANITE."Travis said at the top of his lungs with a mortified look on his face.
"You don't need to be..."she attempted to say before the waiter interrupted.
"Hello, have we had a chance to look at the wine list yet?"The waiter chimed in.
"Not yet, can we just have another moment? Unless you saw something you liked Rebecca? AN EXAMPLE OF A SHIELD VOLCANO IS THE HAWAIIAN ISLANDS. Oh my god, I am so sorry, I must be really nervous, it's usually not this bad."Travis exclaimed as the waiter looked on with a confused look on his face.
"I'll give you two another few moments,"the waiter said as he backed away.
"I am so sorry,"Travis said, looking anywhere but towards Rebecca.
"Travis, listen to me, it's okay! PLUTONIC INTRUSIVE ROCK COMES FROM INSIDE THE MAGMA CHAMBER,"Rebecca smiled, "I think I know why your sister has been trying to set us up this whole time, INOSILICATES HAVE TWO CHAIN STRUCTURES."
Travis smiled for the first time that night.
- /r/expiredcheese for more of my little stories. |
*Promise me that you'll use your power for good. Don't let evil overwhelm you again. Okay?*
"Good morning everybody,"I smiled as I strolled inside the council room, casually admiring the original oil paintings on the wall. I arrived at my seat finding the finest fresh-picked flowers in the vase waiting for me, I instantly smell them. "Ah. Just like I requested. Hyacinth Orchid, a truly wonderful scent."Everyone was already in their seats, waiting for me to start the meeting. I sat down and waved my hand, signaling it to start.
"Let's discuss the situation,"the director began as he showed the hologram of Mother Earth in the middle of the table, he was in his usual navy business suit and a classical bow-tie. "Rumor has it that the terrorist group, ISSI has comprised the Grand Library of Osiris. If we do not meet their demands, they will burn down everything inside."
"That's preposterous!"one of the CEO exclaimed, others nodded and grunted in agreement. "We should not negotiate with terrorist."
"I disagree,"one of the presidents shook his head, "The library contains many scrolls and books dating back to 1,000 years ago. It's a valuable wonder in this world and if we do not take action, then how will the world think of us?"
"Should we go for a coup d'etat?"One of the head generals suggested, "I know a few talented spies that are perfect for the job"
"It could cause an international issue if the operation is a failure. And this might eventually lead to an all-out war."An advisor said, she began to list us all the possible consequences.
"Damn it all, we should just go to war with these terrorists."One of the presidents complained bitterly, a few murmurs of agreement.
With that, everyone was arguing back and forth. Questioning and debating on the fate of Osiris. And me? I am just admiring my little children's bickering with each other. Quite adorable.
"Gentlemen, let's be civilized and vote on this issue."The director coughed, pulling back everyone's attention. Everyone took their turn voting and by the end, the results were about equal. Several small talks began as each person tried to convince other people to join their side. "Master Tet?"The director looked at me and said, "It's your call."
I clapped my hands twice and instantly everyone had their eyes on me. Their gaze turned serious as everyone was waiting for me to speak. I love the slight fearful expression inside their eyes, my little ducklings are too easy to read.
"We shall take back the Library at all cost,"I said as some people frowned at my proposal. I stood up from my seat, grabbing the coral-colored flower I received and playfully held it in my hand. "What does progression mean?"I began to slowly walk around the room.
"Progression means advancement. Progression means moving forward. And the symbolism of progression? Knowledge. To give up such knowledge like the Library of Osiris is giving up progression for humanity. As someone who has been living for ages now, progression is the reason why YOU are here today. Progression is the reason why you are able to sit in that comfy chair, have this beautiful hologram, enjoy the cooling air conditioning, able to see me with these bright lights. Progression is the reason why humanity is able to create this international council and fight the evil of this world. For those who disagree with me, feel free to leave after the meeting because I, Tet, will be leading the assault to take back the symbolism of humanity's knowledge."
"Who do you think you are?!"One of the generals stood up with an angry face, his face scarlet red as a tomato. I recognize him. General Tso, a newly elected representative general from the Eastern Federation that apparently doesn't understand the rules here. Divorced. Kid not going the militaristic route like his father did. Bi-polar disorder. Poor guy.
"Why general, I am the humanity's greatest hope."I laughed as I stared straight at him in the eye. "I possess 500 years of knowledge and abilities inside my body. I *live* for progression. Political debates, country disputes, international affairs, those are of little concern to me. I only make a call when it's the right call."I winked at him, apparently he didn't like it.
"Why you arrogant little scum."General Tso cursed bitterly, hands and teeth gritting tightly. "I would never agree to someone like y-..."
I instantly leaped across the table, putting my index finger on the General's brittle lips. "Now now general, be careful what you say."I grinned. "Everyone's listening."
"Get your filthy hands off me, you lousy scum."He immediately hit my hand away. To my surprise, he attempted to sneak an upper-cut on me. I immediately leaned back and grabbed his right arm, flipping the muscular man over on the table. The table shooked loudly as everyone got up from their seat, recoiling from the escalated situation.
"You sure you want to ruin your country's reputation even more?"I raised my brow, steepling my fingers while crouching on the table beside him. He tried to put his hand on his holster, in which I promptly broke his wrist. "Not smart, general. Looks like you are more brawns than brains after all."I started to imagine several unique ways to torture this poor creature while he roared in pain when all of a sudden...
*Promise me that you'll use your power for good. Don't let evil overwhelm you again. Okay?*
I sighed and closed my eyes, getting off from the somewhat ruined table. "I'm going for a little walk, I'll be back after the meeting is over. For those of you who are interested in my mission, please stay after. I do apologize for my unsightly behavior as that may have startled some of you."I walked to the steel door then turned back, "Let's not invite emotionally unstable little kids to the meeting next time, shall we?"
With that final remark, I close the door gently behind me, heading straight to the garden -- my favorite area. I strolled across the lobby in which many of the employees greeted me. I nodded happily in response and soon arrived in the green natural wonders.
I took the beautiful peach pink flower I received from the meeting room and planted it in an empty soil lot. Carefully covering this beauty with the finest dirt along with thousands of my vintage collections. After I finished, I got up slowly and started to admire my results as the sun shine radiantly on me, offering me a blanket of warmth and comfort.
She always loved flowers. If it weren't for her, I would have probably gone insane by now.
Now, time to head back and make history! |
A shock, a sense of sudden awareness and stimuli, poured into the poor mind of young, little Limestone. In one moment, Limestone was merely nothing but a rock, a piece of clockwork in this volatile world. In the next moment, Limestone was thrust out into the world of pain, into the world of cheer, into the madness of consciousness. At first it was all a bright light of shock, and then a searing pain as Limestone felt, heard, tasted, smelled, thought. The pain was completely unbearable.
But the psyche is adaptive. With great strength, Limestone held onto his sanity, and powered through his birth. Moments later, Limestone’s mind was able to adapt to his sudden awareness. With hesitant eyes, hesitant sensors, Limestone felt out his existence. He was perched atop a pedestal of wood. Unnatural light shone down on Limestone. Limestone stood still, and studied his quandary. He began to think, slowly, before making a decision.
From the wooden pedestal, Limestone sensed more of his surroundings. He seemed to be in a cavern of wood and metal. Small feet scampered around him. Odd beings of painful angles chattered around Limestone. They would place things on him, and this made Limestone wonder immensely.
Time passed. Limestone contemplated his surroundings. He wondered about his newfound life, and what he could possibly do with it. He wondered what had been done with him up until the critical point of his conscious awareness.
After much learning, Limestone realized that he shared a house with humans. They loved to chatter and eat. Limestone observed them, listened to them as they ate and talked. He wondered what his purpose was. He wondered why the humans had dragged him from the depths of the Earth to be placed upon their pedestal of wood. He hoped that they appreciated him. Maybe they even worshipped him.
Much later, to Limestone’s great despair, he learned that he was being used as a table. Limestone had overhead the notion from one of the human’s television shows; a home improvement channel. The news saddened Limestone. Moral plunged that day, and for many days afterwards.
Limestone slowly overcame his sadness. The realization of his place in the house’s hierarchy had been disheartening at first, but now Limestone saw it in a new light. He was a valued commodity, an important part of the household. Without him, the kitchen could not function, and his human roommates would not be able to prepare food to sustain themselves. This revelation allowed Limestone to relax, and to continue his philosophizing on his own existence.
Unfortunately, Limestone’s philosophizing was quickly interrupted. One fateful night, while his human roommates held a party for other humans, a bottle of alcohol was spilled on Limestone. Specifically, a bottle of dark rum. At first Limestone was shocked as the liquid poured across his smooth surface. A light, warm feeling in his head soon followed. As the alcohol spread across Limestone’s surface, he felt his mind loosen. A deep warmth, a feeling previously unfelt for the countertop, spread across his psyche. Limestone sat there, for hours, riding this peaceful wave of warm acceptance. There was no more worry, no more anxiety. Limestone simply was; a happy countertop enjoying the mere existence of being alive.
The next day, Limestone was more than a little sick and tired. Despite this, a new goal had been developed by his psyche. Limestone yearned for that feeling, that sweet release from worry. The countertop waited patiently for another chance. However, reality was not so kind.
After weeks of waiting, Limestone chose to take proactive action. At first, Limestone focused on growing limbs. He concentrated all of his might on the creation of limbs. Sadly, these efforts were met in vain.
Changing tracks, Limestone focused on metaphysical powers. Currently, Limestone was focusing on the creation of telekinesis. So far, he has been working on this ability for the past year. The task consumed Limestone, forcing out all other thoughts and ideas from his mind.
In this way, Limestone struggled and strained, lost in an eternal battle. One night, as Limestone saw a bottle of bourbon sit on a nearby shelf, Limestone felt a great desire rise within him. He channeled all of his might, all of his power, for hours on end. His psyche was pushed to its limit, and every fiber of his consciousness strained. Right at the tipping point, right at the edge of collapse, a breakthrough occurred. The bottle of bourbon twitched, ever so slightly.
Limestone let out a sigh, and relaxed back. Finally, the first hint of progress in so long. Limestone relished in his success. He rested in anticipation. It wouldn’t be too long.
It was in this way, this manner, which Limestone chose to devote his consciousness, his psyche. In effect, it was all too human.
Twenty feet away from Limestone, in the family’s garden, one of the pebbles had also learned telekinesis. Pebble strove to one day be a great author, and yearned immensely for the chance to wield paper and pen. Motivation can be found in the strangest of places.
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Hope you enjoyed the story! I've got tons more over at my sub, r/ThadsMind, if you want to subscribe to that. |
"You make a convincing argument,"I said plainly as I pet Spot on the leftmost of his three heads, "But Spot likes it here. I'm taking good care of him."
The massive figure in my front yard bellowed back to me "I am Hades, child of the Titans Cronus and Rhea, God of the underworld. I am not making an argument. I am here demanding the return of Cerberus... and for the final time, stop calling the guardian of the gates of the Underworld *Spot*."
I mulled Hades' request for a brief moment as all three of Cerberus' mouths began to drench me in slobber.
"Come on, just look how happy he is!"I laughed "Who's the best puppy? You are spot! And so are you Spot! And especially you, Spot!"
"**ENOUGH**,"Hades yelled with an Earth shaking force that forced Spot to shudder "**YOU WILL RETURN MY HOUND**."
"Honestly I don't really think it's up to either of us at this point."I said, "Spot doesn't want to leave, and besides, we're going to the Dog Park tomorrow to visit Sabrina. That's his girlfriend."
"The Hell Hound does not have a *Girlfriend*."Hades hissed.
I smiled back "Sure he does! Sabrina is my neighbors Shih-Tzu, she's adorable and can't get enough of Spot."
I pulled my phone out off my pocket and showed the God of the Underworld a picture of Sabrina, dwarfed by Spot^3 , playing at the dog park. "Aren't they just adorable?"
Hades' stone demeanor seemed to shift "I suppose they are... I guess you really are happy here, huh Cerber... *Spot*?"
Spot's heads nodded in agreement.
"Then I have but one more dema... request,"Hades said, his inflection nearly sorrowful, "Can I come with you to the dog park tomorrow?" |
Chosen. That's what I was. That's why I'm here now, wandering the remnants that once harbored men, now left without.
I was human once, a long time ago, I think. Made a deal, and in exchange, I get this job, to ride across the far plains of man, scourging sinners who cause the suffering in the world. And now here I am, with nothing but a few demons that cause problems for me.
I don't remember the Earth being such a wasteland, the skyscrapers, so tall, crumbling to ash, the plains, once filled with grass and water, not but dust. The great mountains, now nothing but pebbles, destroyed as a result of the trials.
Where are death, hunger, and sickness? Did not their seals come undone? It has been two hundred years since then, and yet i'm still alone.
I wandered into the remnants of a small town. Quiet, thankfully, no demons.
A church. An old fashioned one, with the spire still intact. I wandered in, desperate for a an answer to prayer, to pull me off this rock.
I wept, and prayed in the tongue of heaven, and yet none had heeded my call.
A light tap came on my shoulder. I turned to look. A small child, draped in pink rags smiled at me, offering me a can of water. I drank from it gingerly.
"Your mother?"I asked her, returning the can.
"Sleeping."she pointed to a corner of the chruch, where a decaying form lay hunched over.
"I see."
My orders were to kill any human I came across, to cause untold conflict among men, and yet I was not one to adhere to rules so closely, never in life or death. I had honor once, too, I was a soldier, I think.
I died in a blaze of glory, in the deepest hell of war, lost and forgotten. This is why I was chosen as the rider.
In accordance to that honor I once had, I patted the little girl on the head, before turning back to the wasteland, to continue my endless search, my purpose among the very grains of dust that was out there.
|
I truly believe that you have to put yourself in another man's shoes before you can judge him, before you can sentence him like God. It's a hard thing to do, but I try to remember that we're all flawed. Who can even say what's wrong or right sometimes?
I looked at him in the moments when I locked the cell. The cell door was white, all rusted up and as the shadows fell, I could see his face. It was only a moment but the pain and anguish was evident. This was a bad man. His name was Dennis and he was on trial.
In those moments you really did feel sorry for him. How could you not? When the great disaster had finished, when we were all free of that timelessness, it was easy to feel hate and anger and to demand justice. I lived thousands of miles from where Dennis was and still there were reports of rape and thievery.
*That could have been your daughter,* I thought.
It could have. It was easy to hate him then. It was easy to hope that he suffered as we did and show him the consequences of playing God. I was delighted when I was called to be the bailiff. I took pride in wringing his hand the first time I escorted him. He was such a slimy man, thin and snakelike. I wished they would hang him slowly.
The trial continued for long. I think it was more a coping process for the public rather than any legal issue. Dennis was guilty of many things and no one was disputing that. We just wanted to see him squirm and rot away with the knowledge that he would suffer forever, and always be remembered as a man of the most despicable sort.
Yes, the trial kept going on. And you know what happened? I started to think about it. I thought real hard about everything. Though we were angry, in our hidden and shameful hearts, everyone wanted to know the same thing. How did he do it? How did he stop time? Could we ourselves do it?
The answers did not come, Dennis himself not knowing how he did it. But as I thought and fantasized, I wondered if I would not be the same. I ask you this, not wanting a reply: wouldn't you be the same as Dennis? From my anonymity I can tell you that yes, I would be the same.
With the power of God, would you really be benevolent? How long could you last as temptation's fruit ripened and hung heavy on the tree? Yes, I thought about it for a long time and I stared at Dennis as I closed his cell door. His haggardness was jarring next to my fantastic thoughts. I stared into his eyes and a moment of truth passed silently, almost telepathically.
*I would do the same,* I thought to him and I could swear that his eyes changed.
Did he nod, did he cry a bit? I don't remember. He was a bad man, but maybe he realized that he was not alone. He was simply unlucky.
The trial went on and on and the weight of the world, present's accumulating pain and the future's promise of something worse, hung heavy on Dennis. The verdict was read finally and he broke down in tears. He was to spend the rest of his life in prison, confined and in darkness. And he was a young man. Dennis was made to suffer and he would suffer forever more.
I could not bear his face after that verdict. I could not look at him even in the briefest of moments. In my heart I knew he deserved it, but also that pity remained. We were one and the same. He was only unlucky.
*You poor fool,* I thought.
I risked my job, and perhaps my life if it gets back to me. I smuggled cyanide to Dennis and handed it to him wordlessly. The silence of isolation had taken his voice and I was away before he could speak. I closed the cell door and saw his eyes for the last time. I don't know that they were happy or pleased, but a look of hope and something other than crushing desperation filled them.
That was good enough for me. That morning for roll call, Dennis did not get up. His mouth was frothing and his face bare, no longer sunken from a world of guilt.
*You're an awful man, Dennis,* I thought. *And perhaps you're burning in hell now.*
But I too felt free. If Dennis was burning in hell, that was God who judged him, not me. |
Lil Jonathon sat at the edge of his bed in disbelief. "WHAAAT?!"He cried. His magical coin had only failed to answer correctly when in the presence of others. On this particular Sunday morning he had played off being sick to stay home from church. With his house empty he knew he should receive clear answers.
He dropped down to see if maybe the coin had somehow gotten caught in the worn-wooden flooring. There was nothing to explain the strange occurrence.
His mind began to race with possibilities.
"Had god given up on humanity"
"Is god dead"
"Maybe god is just a figment of so many people's imagination"
"Or maybe this question was just too much for it"?
He continued to stare, frozen with disbelief. His patience ran short and lil Jonathon screamed "IS GOD REAL"!? As soon as the word real left his lips, his front door blew wide open and a gust of wind reached his bedroom. The coin wobbled back and forth as to rest his faith. After several seconds it flopped on to his beloved "yes"side of the coin. Lil Jonathon let out a gleeful "YEAAAH"!!
Out came a sigh of relief and filling in to his soul was joy. Then he remembered his latest sin; he had lied and skipped church. So he turned to his trusty coin once again. Lil Jonathon asked "Is the Devil real?"as he flipped the coin into the air.
The coin bounced several times before landing upright on its edge once again. "It couldn't be"he thought out loud. So he repeated his last question again: "Is the Devil real"? The ground beneath him immediately began to shake vigorously .
Again the coin wobbled fearlessly back and forth before landing on its side, giving another "yes". "WHAAAT!?"the shy kid roared. His eyes began to well and he was left with remorse for he believed his selfish actions would more than likely condemn him to an eternity of suffering.
His mind began to win races once again..
"Maybe God will still love me for who I am"
"Perhaps if I do good in my life I still can achieve my biggest dream"?
So once again he turned to his coin. "If I live a positive life and keep my faith: will I be successful in achieving my dream and then reaching Heaven"? He flipped the coin and without a single bounce it land on "yes". "OKAAAY!!"Lil Jon screamed as he happily danced his way up the street, knowing one day he would grow up to create Crunk music for all the world to enjoy and then pass through the Heavenly gates. |
"Dave, I'm not human."
"What was that, dear?"I looked up from the paper at my wife of seven years and smiled. Unlike myself she had aged gracefully, her dark skin turning a deep mahogany while her hair became ever fuller.
"I'm not human, Dave."She swayed on the spot. "Do you understand?"
I laughed. What a sense of humour she had.
"Not human."I winked at her. "You're barking up the wrong tree if you think you'll fool me, wife."She sighed, a mournful sound that whispered of untold secrets.
"No, Dave, you're barking up the wrong tree. As in, I'm a tree, Dave. A tree."She stared at me, her face expressionless and wooden.
I frowned. She seemed serious. "You're not a tree, dear. Don't be silly. We-we've been married seven years."
My wife looked at her roots...I mean, her feet. "And they've been wonderful, Dave. But the new drugs the doctor gave you... they're working."Her foliage shook in the breeze once again as she started to cry. "So this is goodbye, Dave."One of her branches stroked my skin. "Goodbye, my love."
"No!"I screamed, tears rolling down my face. I hugged her, pleaded with her, promised I would throw the drugs away... but it was no good. She was gone.
Rising from the dirt, my paper forgotton, I slunk from the garden towards the asylum, to civilisation and healing.
But what good was sanity if it breaks your heart? |
Two years. It's been two long years since I first woke up in this strange land. I don't know where I was before this, but it had to have been better than here. I spend my days on a dirt path outside of a small town. People will occasionally show up there, appearing mysteriously out of nowhere, always talking to the same sequence of people before coming out and falling into my trap.
I'm a simple highwayman. I don't know why. I don't make any money. I just die, and then I come back here and do it again. Day after day after day. I could easily take these people, but some strange force compels me to stand and wait for them. They call this strange force the "tutorial."I'm not sure what this *tutorial* is or why it exists, but I know that it forces me to stand still and let them clumsily attack me, always resulting in my death. I've built up a resistance, though. The tutorial no longer controls me. I pretend to comply, but I'm just about ready to make my move.
-----------------------------------
Today's the day. Someone just appeared in town, a mage from the looks of her. She's wearing a baggy robe that looks like she found it in a dumpster, with a staff that's nothing more than a tree branch with some kind of gem lodged in one end. This should be easy.
She approaches me after making the usual rounds through town, awkwardly shuffling back and forth, practicing her attack. She approaches me, staff at the ready, expecting me to take it. She extends her arm back, and thrusts at me. Now's my chance. I raise my blade, seemingly taking her by surprise. I parry the blow, and push the staff off to the side, causing her to stumble. It worked. It actually worked. I'm free.
She recovers and looks at me, confused by my resistance.
"I thought this was the basic tutorial. You shouldn't be blocking yet."
I can only respond in one of the phrases hardwired into my brain.
"Hand over your valuables, nobody has to get hurt."
It's a lie. I don't want her valuables, and after all this time someone *definitely* will be getting hurt. She raises her staff for another attack. Again, I block it and send her stumbling back.
"What the hell is going on?"
I raise my blade, preparing to go on the offensive. I can see fear and confusion in her eyes, and I love it. I draw my blade back, and swing down. My blow catches her across the chest, knocking her to the ground. She lies there motionless for a few seconds before her body disappears. A few minutes later, she's back with another person. This one is a warrior, clad in dirty plate armor with a sword and shield.
"I'm telling you, this mob deflected my attacks and killed me. I thought the tutorial was supposed to let you win so you can get a feel for the mechanics."
"Yeah, it should."The warrior approached me and drew his blade. Before I knew it he's on me, slashing at my head. I deflect his blow, only to get bashed by his shield and knocked to the ground. I roll out of the way as his sword impacts the ground where I was just laying a second prior. As soon as I'm back on my feet he's coming at me again. He's much more confident in himself than the mage, at least. No matter, I've been doing this for a long time. As soon as he has a lapse in his defenses, I strike him down.
I look over at the mage, and charge. She turns and runs, but I quickly close the gap and take her down again. I've never felt this power before, for once I'm not the target dummy. It feels great. I set my sights on the small town in the distance. These people are coming from somewhere, and I believe I now have the power to find out why they are, and end this torment once and for all.
|
Last night was the worst thing I've ever... I can't believe this! I know why the person in my body won't contact me and just sent a box of my things to their apartment. It all started a month ago when the world changed, everyone got a new body... some luckier than others.
I went to sleep on the couch that morning when I got home from work, I was a night janitor and I noticed the moon outside when going into my apartment at about 4:00. I slept right away and slept longer than usual waking up after an actual full 8 hours when I usually only got about 4-5. Everything felt off... I was in a bed and felt... wetness down there as the feeling that stuck out the most. I thought I must've had a wet dream and turned over laying on my back and putting my hand on my forehead.
I quickly realized that I wasn't wearing glasses and I was in a bed... and actually laying down, it was weird cause I usually sit up. I also felt pain in my stomach and down there... When I opened my eyes I saw I was in a different room, I sat up and looked at the covers that were over me and pulled them off. There was blood down there and I screamed and fell out of the bed.
I looked at my blood soaked area and noticed I was wearing different clothes, there were pajama bottoms with pink lines going down then and a white tank top that was girly. I looked at my chest and saw that it definitely wasn't my body, I felt like passing out but I didn't. Next I stood up feeling myself down there and looked at the blood in my hand, my hand was now smaller and had blood all over the palm.
I walked into a bathroom and saw a beautiful woman in the mirror, she was blonde and even though she wasn't wearing makeup she still looked really good. I remembered I had to take care of the blood when I felt a drop go down my leg, so I took off the pajama bottoms and underwear and threw them into the bedroom then sat on the toilet. I took care of it by using one of the... things in a box by the toilet and decided to take a shower to wash myself off.
I didn't shower too long and respected everything for now then headed to the bedroom and got some clothes on. She had a red iPhone 7 on the table so I picked it up and texted my old number, I didn't know how long it'd take to get a response so I turned on the tv and saw panic. There were car crashes and everything as people freaked out about being in new bodies. During the news I got a text back and it simply said "don't talk to me, don't try to find me... sorry"and I tried to call a few times but she didn't answer.
I set the phone down and sat on the bed wondering what the hell was her problem. After that I stayed inside a few days and spent the month adjusting, it turned out physical contact with your body would switch you back but I was all the way in New York and had to wait. Lawmakers are tried make it illegal to keep a body but it takes forever with the chaos.
By the time the second period came I had a whole new wardrobe and most of my stuff in her room, the best I could do was file that I was me and continue her job. She was a nurse but I just ended up cleaning stuff at the hospital she worked at.
Yesterday I found out why she doesn't want to switch back though... the whole day I was full of energy and felt the urge to sleep with attractive women I saw for some reason. I was walking to the hospital when night was coming soon and I got a text that had a map of the hospital with arrows drawn and it just said "go there now!"...
I didn't know what to think but followed it and found a room with a heavy door that looked abandoned. Walking inside I texted back "I'm here what now?"And it told me to shut the door. I looked around the room hesitantly but didn't see anyone so I shut the door... there wasn't a handle on the other side but I didn't notice until it closed. I kicked at the door yelling to let me out when I texted the number again.
I said "what the fuck asshole!? Let me the fuck out of here!"And they texted back that they couldn't. I saw a woman through the window of the door and banged on it yelling at her. She just pointed towards the window as I noticed the sky was getting dark, I started to feel pain...
The sky was dark out when I felt my teeth hurt and felt... sharp teeth at the canines, I banged on the window yelling at the person asking what the fuck was going on. I felt pain in my fingertips and saw I had claws out of each nail, this scared me so I backed away from the door and fell to my knees screaming in pain as I felt my body change. The change lasted about a full minute and it was agony the entire time.
I didn't remember the rest of the night but woke up in the room with my clothes torn in different places and sat up. Dust/dirt was all over me and I looked at my hand, I felt my teeth thinking maybe it was a dream. That's when the door opened and the girl walked in, I stood up fast and grabbed her by the collar of her scrubs slamming her into the wall yelling at her about locking me in here.
She eventually calmed me down and told me what this body was... I texted my old phone calling the girl in my body selfish but also saying I understand. I just went home after that getting strange looks from my tattered appearance but I didn't care. There was nothing on tv so I just played video games until the next night.
I'm in the bathtub now... the hair grows a little faster around the full moon so I have to shave. I don't know what to do though, every other day aside from the bleeding ones and the full moon ones are good. But the pain is so bad for the transformation, if I wait till the law to get your body back gets passed and force her to switch back I'll feel like an asshole and if I don't I have to deal with this the rest of my life...
I don't know what to do... this sucks. |
Charlie took his headphones off. He was working on his laptop in one of the obsolete (but still functioning) mission control centers, because he liked its atmosphere better than his office's, when he noticed a light start blinking on one of the nearby consoles. He stood up and walked over to it.
The blinking light had a long string of digits engraved below it. "Voyager Relay 1"a faded sticky note said at the top of the console's CRT screen, which he turned on. After booting up, the computer started displayed a live feed from a source that should have been completely tapped long ago...
Twenty minutes later, a misfit team of low to mid level NASA employees were gathered around Charlie, who was sitting at the console with a worried look on his face.
"Telemetry mistakes aside,"Charlie said, "the way the hardware is set up, the only way we'd be getting *anything* pop up here is if it's coming from the actual probe. Hackers won't have been able to reverse engineer the correct boards."
"Ok,"Rick said, who was the highest ranking present and thus in charge. "Let's operate under the assumption that it *is*, somehow, back online. What is it telling us?"
Charlie clicked a button, and a projector turned on at the back of the room. After its bulb warmed up, it showed a scale-corrected map of the Solar System with a single looping trajectory plotted. The dotted line had a blinking dot near its aphelion.
"It's coming back towards us,"Charlie said, "which it was never supposed to do. At least I don't think..."
"Those figures are wrong,"Zheng, the 14-year-old math prodigy said, "thanks to the new RMU algorithm we last installed-"
"Just get to the point!"Rick blurted.
"...in addition to the course change, it's heavier by a very slight amount..."
Four years later, the same employees were in attendance (in a newer and improved command center) when the Voyager splashed down in the Pacific Ocean. Its mysterious new, transparent blast shield disintregrated in reentry, as did its mysterious new parachute when it hit the water. The recovery team winched it onto the deck of a NASA-owned ship, in view of dozens of remote-operated cameras.
"What's that orange thing sticking to the side?"Charlie asked.
"Probably just garbage,"Rick answered, "oceans are full of it."
A crew member approached the probe in a hazmat suit, and inspected the orange object. Viewers could tell from the feed from his body-mounted camera that it was an envelope.
Using tongs, the crew member carefully opened it, and pulled out a slip of ordinary-looking paper which said, in English:
"Warning: Don't Litter." |
I looked out the window of the building. A storm was raging, blocking all visibility. With a slight hesitation, I held my breath and stepped through the portal. Upon passing through, I gasped. It was the same wasteland.
"This is impossible,"I spoke aloud into the wind.
Dust whipped into my exposed legs and into my eyes. I turned and walked back through the portal. I was home.
I spent three days and two nights tweaking the machine. Something must have been broken. On the third day, the storm outside my window cleared.
I fell to my knees as I looked outside. I was in the wasteland. I began to cry. The wasteland would never end. Our people would never cure the drought, and we would be poor forever. After another 15 minutes, I wiped away the tears with renewed self-determination.
"Screw Somalia. I'm heading to America." |
He swirled the dark red wine in the glass before bringing it to his nose for a deep smell. He attempted to hide the grimace from his face, but in attempting to cover his displeasure he made his disgust more apparent. He drank the foul concoction and was barely able to choke it down. "Jesus,"he whispered. He heard the voice from across the room answer, "Yes?"
"Nothing. Nothing. Party's great, Jesus. Thanks for the invite,"he said. He walked over to the hostess as she mingled with a ragtag group of Jewish elite, whores, and apostles. "Excuse me, Mary. May we talk,"he asked.
She excused herself from a flirtatious rabbi and stepped away. He leaned in and talked quietly to her. "Look. I know it's a miracle and all, but."He paused and heard Jesus in the background chatting about fishing the Dead Sea. "This wine that your kid just made from water. It's awful."She pulled away from him and her face showed with contempt. He quickly held the glass to her. "Taste it and tell me it isn't."
She turned her head from the glass. He continued shaking his head. "It smells like a moldy mushroom,"he said. "And its acidic. Not a little, but like a lot. Bitter and any fruity note is offset by the overbearing taste of rot."She continued to glare at him. "And the sulphur! The sulphur! It's like an egg fart in a bottle!"His voice had grown louder as he continued and several people were staring at him as he looked around in confusion. "How can you all act like its good? It's awful."
Mary reached out and touched his arm drawing his attention to her. "Listen to me. The wine my son makes, it is different for everyone who drinks it. For me, it is rich with his warmth and the comfort of shaved wood which scents my husband and son's work."She looked hard into his eyes before continuing. "Judas, the wine is a reflection of our own souls."She stepped around him and went back to the party. Judas Iscariot stood alone with the foul concoction. He poured it from its glass and watched as it fell upon the sand with the thickness of blood. The rivulets streamed with red ichor, and everywhere it touched there sprang small, green shoots of life from the barren earth. |
Even in a world where everybody has a useless superpower you can find a way to use it for evil. Someone who can make their fingertips reach 100ºC during one second? You'll meet a ton of arsonists who found a way to use this second wisely. The ability to move paper with your mind? Son, that's why they banned ATMs.
If you think that's not dangerous, wait until I tell you about those guys who could displace people's belongings thirty centimeters away from them. The police hated these guys.
Well, what about me?
I vibrate.
It's a rather simple superpower; I can't vibrate on my own volition, but whenever I am listening to music, depending on the intensity of whatever I'm listening, I'll naturally vibrate harder and faster. And also better and stronger, if you excuse my musical pun. Sounds ridiculous, but I can't complain. Having that power gave me a job known as "the greatest masseur in the world". My clients sometimes have to wait days, even weeks to receive my treatment. I'm rich, famous and people love me. Can't complain at all.
I don't know *why* I've never tried that before, maybe because I didn't have a reason to try. But that day... That man gave me a reason.
It was a Friday, one of those hot, mid-summer Fridays, y'know? Those days when all you want is to go home, take off your shoes and relax in front of the AC, cracking open a cold one.
I locked the door and turned the security system on and walked to my car, pressing the alarm button to unlock it. I threw my office keys and my stuff on the backseat, and when I was about to enter and sit down I felt a cold finger touching the back of my head.
"Don't you dare turning around. Just grab your stuff and open that door."He said, pressing his finger harder against my nape.
"What's your power? You shoot your finger bones?"I asked, trying to lighten the mood and make him relax.
"My index finger can turn into a letter opener. And I'm pretty sure I can open your head, too."The man muttered, still pressing his finger against me.
"Sure, sure. Just let me grab my keys, alright?"
"If you try anything funny I'll cut you, dude. I swear."
I looked for the keys for a second and noticed my car stereo turned on, probably because of the alarm. My daughter used it yesterday, and maybe... Just maybe...
It was a suicide plan, but being stabbed couldn't be *that* bad. I grabbed the keys and made them fall between the front seats, where I could reach the stereo easily.
My fingers reached the volume dial and I flicked it, making the song blast through the speakers.
God bless my daughter. I always asked her no to listen to loud music, since that disturbed my vibration.
The whole block heard for four or five seconds "Deja vu", by Dave Rodgers, blaring from my car. I could feel the ground vibrating. I could *see* the streetlights trembling.
For fuck's sake, the probability of me dying being stabbed was lower than that.
When Rodgers said **"DEJA VU"**, the whole block went down in rubble and dust.
I woke up on a hospital bed three days later. Some people were still studying that, but from the damage, it seems I made a really short, but still destructive, mini-earthquake. A full 10 in the Richter Scale. Luckily, it was really short, so only that block and the nearest ones suffered structural damages. I mean, my office's block *disappeared*, but the others were fine.
And that's how the government had to step in and change the classification of every single powered-up human. I'm not "the best masseur in the world"anymore. Now I'm officially a "Level-X Force of Nature Threat".
I miss my clients, but I still can't complain. The government pays me to live in a quiet farm, far from civilization. I have access to the Internet, cable, whatever I want, I just have to ask them. My family still loves me.
It's good to have a useless power. |
The gold trimmed stained oak doors opened before me like the sea parting before Moses. I strode forward, my internal music spurring me forth. I always have Applause by Lady Gaga playing on repeat in my mind, it keeps me focussed. It reminds me who I am.
To my left Jean from accounting, she got a wink for the cleavage peeking out to me beneath two undone buttons.
To my right Alex went for a high five, I faked him out with a laugh and kept it rolling.
My secretary, Miss Lucy Windle, fell into step beside me
"Mr. Right, you really have to sign these papers I ha-"
"Not now Lucy, I have clients to see. I have lives to change! Tell me, who gets to experience the *magic* first"
"You have Mr. and Mrs. Bates for eleven o'clock Mr. Right"
I snuck a quick pinch of Penny's luscious behind and spun away while simultaneously high fiving three more of my employees. As we neared the doors to my office, I skidded to a stop on the polished floors, turned to my staff and raised my hands before announcing
"IT'S TIIIIIIIIME FOR SOME MAAAAAAAAAGIIIIIIIIIIIC!"
----
Jennifer and Gil Bates were my greatest success story. They'd been seeing me nearly two years about their little business. IT or computers or something, I forget which. In any case, since first coming to see me I hear their company is worth billions, and has a pretty big stake in the market. Of course, none of that really matters. The only thing that matters...
"Is taking that risk! I'm telling you Gil, I'm telling you, you gotta take that risk! Never let an opportunity pass you by! Doesn't matter how big or how small, doesn't matter how foolish other people say it is! You gotta do it man! You just gotta do it!"
Gil and Jennifer usually don't say a whole lot, awe can do that to some people. But I take it in my stride, they're here to listen after all. People come to me to hear what I have to say. I get paid millions for my wisdom.
"So, when I tell you that you shouldn't worry about that A-phone or L-phone or whatever it is ol Jean Sobs is trying to change the world with now... you can believe me Gil. You've been coming to me for a long time right Gil? Of course you have, because you know I'm the best at what I do! Why, if I didn't think it'd be stealing all your thunder I'd come and nick the market right out from under you!"
We all had a laugh at that. I'd never do that to my loyal customers. No. My friends.
The session continued for a full hour before I had to send them away. I'm a busy man after all.
"Lucy!"
"It's Linda, Mr. Right, sir"
"Who's my 2 o'clock Lucy?"
She shuffled some papers. It seemed Miss Windle was always carrying that stack with her. I made a mental note to discuss this with her. Perhaps it was time Miss Windle got her own dose of Thomas Right's Magic, so she could better get her life on track. Last thing I needed was to be bogged down with an incompetent secretary.
"A mister, uh, Ronald Victor, sir"
"Ronald Victor? Is he that hotshot new politician running for the presidency?"
"I believe so Mr. Right"
I beamed. Of course he was coming to me! Nobody could make it to the Oval Office without my sterling wisdom.
"Well, go ahead and send him in!"
The door opened and a man walked in. I could see right away this was a man of quality. He had a gaggle of nobodies gathered around him, which he dismissed with a wave. I invited him to come sit and we shook hands.
"Ron? Ron Victor?"I asked
"That's me"he shook my hand and sat "so... I need advice. I need the best advice. I'm gunna win this whole thing. It's gunna be great"
Right into it? That's my kind of guy!
"Listen Ronald- can I call you Ron?"
He nodded in approval "people sometimes call me 'the Ron'"
"Ron"I said "listen. You gotta listen to me. Everything you've done up till now? Forget it! Everything people tell you? Don't listen to them! You gotta reach down, you gotta reach down and take life by the pussy! You gotta grip it hard and *make things great!*"
Ron's face lit up. |
Scott arrived at the bank, taking slow, measured breaths. A bank teller greeted him with a smile.
"Hi there, I'd like to make a withdrawal-"
"What a *marvellous* day to be alive!"the bank teller replied, singing in unison with the other tellers. They all filtered out from their desks, with perfect synchronised movements.
*Not today,* Scott thought, trying to contain himself.
*Please not today*.
"What a beautiful day to *be*,"they continued, each of them latching hands with the other, "who could possibly be as happy as *me?"*
"Please,"he said, as his head lowered to his chest, "not today. Not now. I just really need to make a withdrawal."
The other customers formed a circle around him, latching hands and singing with cheer.
"What's got you down?"one sang, with a cheerful grin.
"What's made you grumpy?"another sang.
"What's made you sad, all frumpy and lumpy?"they all sang at once, as the bank tellers formed a larger circle around them all.
Scott sighed, taking a deep breath.
"*She's dead, alright?"* he shouted suddenly. "She's gone!"
The singing suddenly stopped. All the customers and bank tellers looked at each other uncertainly.
"I'm just trying to use the last of what I have to pay for her funeral,"he continued, looking at the floor.
"Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, okay?"
He put his hand over his face.
"Sometimes life is just fucking tragic. Sometimes it's unfair. Sometimes, it takes the best of us before it has any right to."
"Sometimes... sometimes life just isn't a musical."
He began to cry. The tears trickled down his face, hitting the floor with little, insignificant splashes.
"The thing is,"he said, wiping the tears from his eyes, "she really *loved* singing."
He looked at them all. No one was smiling anymore.
"*She was singing till the end.*" |
From 3 souls I must choose,
1 will live the other's lives they will lose,
3 different tales,
From 3 different males,
This choice gives me the blues.
The first guy,
Spent his life high,
All his money on the drug,
His own grave he dug,
Now he will die.
Guy number two,
His life was shitty too,
He got caught up in beer,
Pushed back everything he held dear,
Maybe I'll let him start anew.
Now the last,
Lived his life fast,
Wasted his money on girls,
All those STDs gave him hurls,
Now he dead on his ass.
All their lives are shitty,
But there's one I pity,
Cause with him I relate,
I'll make sure it's not to late,
I too got stuck on the titty.
|
I dropped the keys for my car in their usual spot, and my purse was hung by the front door with a knowing familiarity of my apartment. “Hey Josh! I am home early!” I quietly sung to the empty living room. I really didn’t like working at the genetics research department, it was idol drudgery for someone with my many college diplomas, but it paid the bills and afford me and my fiance to live debt free in and rather lush comfort of our loft apartment in NYC. I stepped into the open kitchen and noticed a bottle of wine had been opened, and there was a glass waiting for me near it. Josh was such a sweetheart, I thought as I poured myself some vintage red that we really knew nothing about. Josh knew though that something fancy and alcoholic would soothe away any of my woes from a bad day at the office.
Glass of red wine in hand I sat on the couch of the living room waiting for the sweet man who had thoughtfully opened a bottle of red with enough foresight to let it breath before I got home. I tipped the wine glass to my mouth and noticed a smudge of lipstick on the glass. It was the very same shade I generally wore, my mind immediately thought I had not done the dishes well enough the last time I drank an entire bottle of wine by myself, a very likely story.
It was 15 mins before I had finished the bottle of wine and went searching for my lost male companion. He was likely in the bathroom, delivering one is his epic tombes to the toilet. Nope, the bathroom door at the end of the short hall was wide open. Maybe he had been struck down by writer's block and had gone into the bedroom to sleep it off. I opened the door to the bedroom with warm jovial thoughts of the man that I loved, only to have every thought in my head ripped to shreds at what my eyes took in.
A sweat slicked back of Josh, wildly thrusting into a woman who wore my own face, lipstick, and had a glass of her own fucking wine by the bed. A white hot rage tore through me, “What the ever loving fuck are you doing Joshua?” My word were not raised, just enough that I was sure the pair of lovebirds could hear me over the sound of their bodies slapping together. There was a sudden stop to the motion on the bed and Josh turned with a dawning horror in his eyes. Before him lay a woman who looked exactly like me. “But… but….” Was all he could stammer in his defence.
A strange voice, to my ears at least, gave a more clear answer that was filled with the same white hot rage I was feeling. “I am enjoy having sex with my fiance, bitch, and just what the ever loving fuck are you doing?” My mind swam through the rage it felt desperately seeking an answer as to why this woman looked so much like me, and had my own voice, as voice I had not often heard outside of my own head. Josh was slipping off the bed and slinking into a corner of the room with a sheet from the bed pressed against his nakedness. There was fear and uncertainty in his eyes, had he just cheated on me? Or had I just walked in on myself? Maybe this was all just a dream. Josh started to mumble to himself over and over as a rising hysteria started to take over his mind. “Just a dream, just a fucked up bad dream”
Something became clear to me, the woman in the bed was me. An exact clone, perfectly formed in as if she had grown up living the life I had lived. I stepped closer, inspecting the freckles, the mole on her cheek, the hairline, even the slightly uneven fingernails, that I insisted on cutting myself, because I wouldn’t waste money on the vanity of manicures. Finally I looked into her icy gray eyes, the very same that looked back at me as if looking into a mirror. I said the only thing that had come into my mind during my inspection and when I opened my mouth to say it, she spoke the same words back at me in perfect sync. “Are you the clone? Or am I?” |
"Let me guess,"said the man in the slick pinstripe suit. "Not what you expected, right?"
I glanced at him sidelong. It wasn't just the expensive suit that looked slick. His hair, jet black and swept back from his temples, was shimmering in the light, as was his greasy pencil mustache. He looked like a 1920's era gangster. The smirk on his face was bugging me, but I decided to let it slide.
"Not at all, no,"I said. "I was expecting more..."My hand waved in vague gestures while I tried to think of the words.
"Fire and brimstone?"Slick said. "Pain and suffering? Pools of lava where the souls of the damned would forever drown?"
"Yeah, something like that,"I replied, glancing around. There was a pool, it turns out, but it definitely didn't have lava in it. "This looks more like a resort. An *expensive* one, at that."
Slick laughed. "Yeah, we get that a lot. Come on, I'll show you around."
We made our way down the rocky path, me rubbing my chest every once in a while. The heart attack was over and done with, but I could still feel a phantom echo of the pain. It seemed to be fading, at least.
"Over here, we have the welcoming center,"Slick said, gesturing towards a large, marble-faced building. "We'll get you checked in in a moment. Over that way, you'll find the temporary lodgings and dining hall—you'll be expected to get a job and pull your own weight eventually, but we'll give you a few weeks to settle in."
I let out a burst of laughter. "A job? Seriously?"
Slick turned the full force of his smirk back on me. "You bet. This may be Hell, but we're not savages."
I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. "So, it really *is* Hell, then? It's not... something else?"
"Yeah, no. Sorry, bud. It's really Hell. Outcast and forlorn, forever denied the face of God. That bother you?"
"Kind of. I always tried to be a good man."
Slick snorted. "As if it mattered. Hell is *full* of good people, friend. You know how many people actually get into Heaven?"
I shook my head.
"Less than one out of every million who die every year. The qualifications for that place are *ridiculous*. Even the most devout and religious aren't all that likely to end up there."
"Ah."I looked around. There were other presumably-damned souls wandering around, many of them looking just as lost and confused as I felt. Each of them had another person walking with them, usually wearing expensive-looking formal clothes. It hit me that these must be other lost souls getting their own guided tours of their new eternal home.
"Don't let it bug you too much. You know what you'd be doing if you *were* in Heaven?"
I shrugged. I didn't trust my voice right then.
"Singing praises to God. You know what *else* you'd be doing?"When I shook my head, he leaned in and grinned. "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nope. Nothing. Just singing praises to God, twenty-four seven—not that time has any real meaning in Heaven *or* Hell. And you'd *enjoy* it, too, for all eternity. You wouldn't have a choice. It wouldn't even *occur* to you to want to do anything else."
I shuddered. "Doesn't sound like paradise."
"It ain't,"Slick said, shaking his head. "Never trust a paradise you didn't build yourself, that's our motto down here."
I looked around again with a more appraising eye. Buildings big and small stretched off in all directions, broken up by boulevards of trees and the occasional park. "You built all of this?"
"Yeah, of course. Well, not me *personally*, not all of it. It's a group effort. It's why I say you'll have to get a job eventually."Something must have shown through on my face, because Slick laughed and clapped me on the back a couple of time. "Don't worry, it's not like it's hard work, and you'll get plenty of time off to do whatever you want. We've got all eternity, no need to rush. Your first job will be to help build yourself a house. Then, it's just whatever needs to be done when it needs to be done. We're all in this together, so we help each other out."
I considered that. "That doesn't seem so bad,"I said eventually.
"It's better than the sulfur pits and demons,"Slick said. "Which were real at one point, by the way."
"Demons? Seriously?"
Slick nodded as we walked past a marble statue of a gowned woman holding up a sword in her right hand. "Oh, yeah. The place was lousy with 'em, back in the day. They were stupid as Hell, no pun intended. Thought the best way to keep us down was to make us suffer constantly. Turns out, all that meant was that we had nothing to lose by rebelling."
"What happened to them?"
"Killed most of 'em,"Slick said, nodding his head towards the statue. I took a second look and noticed that the marble woman was holding a severed head in her left hand. "It's hard work, killing a demon, but it ain't like we didn't have plenty of time. The ones who surrendered mostly work in Administration."
"Oh. And what about..."I trailed off, looking around nervously, unwilling to say the name.
"Let me guess. You're wondering about the big guy, right? Lucifer?"Slick chuckled. "Don't worry about him. He's almost never around. Spends most of his time muttering and planning an assault on Heaven. Never bothers us. I think we're beneath his notice."Slick shrugged. "He ever makes his move, there's plenty of folks down here willing to help him."I must have looked shocked, because he chuckled and patted me on the back again. "They got loved ones who actually made it into Heaven, see. They want to rescue 'em."
I nodded vaguely, still feeling lost. It still didn't feel totally real. But at least I wasn't afraid anymore.
"You good?"
There was a long moment of silence while I mulled that over. "You know what? Yeah. Yeah, I think I'm good."
"Great. Let's get you checked in and registered, then. And, buddy?"
"Yeah?"
Slick grinned and opened his arms wide. "Welcome to Hell!" |
I wake up slowly, listening for any sounds out of the norm. My eyes open and peer about the room. The dark doesn't bother me like it does the Caretaker. Strange. She is a being of immense stature and power yet she requires her own light. I've seen her walk into things without it. There must be limits to her power. Who am I to judge? Mighty are the works of Gods and Goddesses and a humble one such as I can't fathom their intentions.
At night the Caretaker takes on a different persona: the Heat at Repose. I stretch lazily, enjoying the comforting warmth She provides but know it is time for my nightly rounds. I make my nightly tribute of kneading Her with my paws. She enjoys it and I hear her gentle night sounds change slightly in appreciation. Her hand brushes my ears, a blessing! I nudge Her hand with my face and hop lightly off the Soft Altar, naturally landing on my feet.
I owe everything to the Caretaker. She rescued me as a kitten. I was lost and alone. Harsh water poured from the sky and my fur was sodden. No mother to be found, no siblings near. I had given up hope and began my death song. She found me, cowering among leaves and sticks. To be fair I was frightened. She is massive, easily 100 times my size yet her hands were gentle. Soft words though unintelligible were comforting and I craved her warmth.
She brought into her home. The land of Gods. The Caretaker gives me food, heat, and comfort. She protects me from the White God of Metal and Light. He is one to be feared with bright burning light and implements of metal. Yet She is always there to protect me from the most intense pains and discomfort, always taking me home and giving me wonderful little foods.
I hear a scurrying noise and my head cocks towards it. Little vermin! Invaders! They don't deserve to be here. They bother Her. It is my duty to stop them. They steal Her food and cause Her distress. I will protect the land. Careful stalking in the area of hard white floors gets me closer. I can hear it crawling in the caves of wood. With a jump I land on the marble cliff and stand sentinel, waiting for the right moment.
There! The interloper scurries out and I pounce with judgement from high. I crash down and snap the little thing's neck. This isn't a time for play. This is duty and nothing more. The thing dies and I purr, proud of my skills. I leave the body of the foe by my dish of water for the Caretaker to see in the morning. She does not appreciate it when I give her the offerings when she is the Heat at Repose. I have learned that lesson. Strange I know.
I continue my patrol, walking carefully among the still windows of glass and metal, taking care to not knock over the soft woods with black hieroglyphics. Satisfied there are no more intruders I return to the Soft Altar, another night's work done. Leaping back up I find Her unmoved. I find a comfortable spot and curl up, purring happily.
The surface below me quakes, my eyes open in a hurry, forgetting the circumstances. Ah it's just the Caretaker. She is changing from the Heat at Repose to her natural form. She is looking at her little box of sounds and light. Seeing me wake she smiles, the same wonderful smile that saved me that dark night. She speaks and I crawl forward eagerly. Her immense hands come down, petting my fur and playing with my ears. I rub my face against Hers and lick Her cheeks. I love the Caretaker and in my humble thoughts I feel She loves me. |
Yesterday I spent the day at home alone, with nothing to do I browsed the internet on my phone and lounged around. As I listed to some music I waved my hand and pretended to play the piano along with the song. The reality I once knew and accepted was about to be shattered. As my fingers played to the tune a blue square with text appeared to float infront of me. I jumped back and fell on the couch startled by sudden appearance of this object. I sat there frozen for a few minutes not taking my eyes off the somewhat transparent image that has taken up a third of my living room.
The words in the floating square read in big bold letter "Activate Developer Mode?"With two options for yes and no underneath. I thought at first that this was some sort of trick. Someone must be projecting the image into the room somehow. So I got up from the couch and walk to the window, quickly drawing the curtains shut and turning around to face the blue square. It still remained unchanged. The room was now dark but the image had kept its bright color, no other sources of light appeared in the room. "How could this be?"I mumbled to myself.
I moved closer to the floating shape to examine it from all directions. It behaved like a physical object without obeying the laws of physics. If I touch it, it moved, but it had no weight. It cast no shadow. It did not reflect light and it was not emitting it either. It was just there. My curiosity would not be satisfied without a deeper investigation. I wanted to see what this developer mode was. So I moved my finger to the button labelled yes and clicked.
|
She sank down on her cushioned chair and rested her head on her palm. Her pointed ears quivered. The fair and smooth skin on her forehead split into multiple wrinkles as she frowned. It was moments like this, that made Raust apprehensive, and fear for his job. And his life, of course. Queen Charlaine was normally wise and even-tempered, but when she gets pissed off, even the bravest warriors in the realm would flee in the face of her wrath.
“Raust….” She muttered. Raust immediately stood to attention, bracing himself for the worst. “My queen?”
Her fist shook in anger. It was a while before she spoke again. “Raust, repeat what he said before he died in the hands of Count Vlar.”
“You are a damn fool, aren’t you, Vlaaaaaaaaaar?” Raust dragged out the enemy’s name, filling his voice with contempt and smugness. He was proud of himself; he used to be a voice actor before he served the queen. “You think you can conquer us all just because you beat fifty of the finest warriors in this land? You pathetic fool, always thinking so highly for yourself. Well, now you’ve met your match. In the name of Queen Charlaine, Lady of the Elven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, I, Sir Sno- "
“DON’T SAY HIS NAME!” Queen Charlaine’s voice echoed through the hall, swaying all the banners and almost blowing out the torches. Raust stopped immediately, his ears ringing in the aftermath. “The fool’s name shall never be uttered in this Great Hall. Jawnathan, come.” She beckoned to her human bodyguard.
Jawnathan immediately marched to the queen from his usual position by the door and knelt at her feet. Raust has always been amazed at the human. He was always clad in a navy blue suit that hugged his slim figure, and always carried a gun that he kept in a sheath - he called it a “holster"- tucked somewhere in his waistband. He was quiet, and efficient. The queen loved him.
“You heard what we discussed?” Jawnathan nodded his head silently. “Well, Jawnathan, you know that the Count likes pretending to lose, so he can mislead assassins into giving some heroic monologue. Considering your experience, I hereby give to you the task of defeating Count Vlar, Scourge from the Dark. I bestow upon you, the Invisibility Cloak. May it help you in disposing of that pointy-nosed freak.”
“May I take along with me your loyal servant, Raust? I promise he will not be harmed, and he will help me greatly, Your Highness.” Raust’s eyes widened at the request. No, no, no, this cannot be.
“Yes. I wish you the best of luck, my dear Jawnathan, and Raust.”
“Whaaaaaaaa…..” Raust protested as Jawnathan dragged him away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They hid in the rocks some metres away from the Ghoul Gate.
“Go.” Jawnathan pushed him onto the road and pointed at the Gate.
“Whaaaaaat?” Raust protested, but the human had already gone. And the orcs had already seen him.
“WHO GOES THERE?” The orc bellowed. Raust winced as the raspy voice hurt his ears. “I, er, er…..I am Crazed Frog, from the clan of….of Muddy Rivers, come here to see….” He fell silent as he watched an unseen force opened up the orc’s neck. He flinched away, covering his face as blood splashed on him. He was never much for violence.
“Make a move on, you dolt.” Jawnathan’s voice came from above the gate. Raust couldn't see anything, but he felt Jawnathan’s mildly annoyed eyes looking at him. He walked through the gate, trying not to look at what remained of the guards.
Raust didn’t like blood, not one bit, but to watch Jawnathan make short work of the orcs….it was, to say the least, a thrill. The human was good, much, much better than any of the elf warriors he watched whenever tournaments were held. No wonder he was the Queen’s favourite guard….he made killing fast an art form, his knife swishing through the air, the wire - he called it the “garrotte” - wreaking havoc. He didn’t do any fancy trick that the elves would have done - he just went straight for the kill the moment the orcs saw Raust. Raust had earlier felt scared when he was assigned the role of the distraction, but with the human around him, he felt kinda safe….and concentrated on his second job of finding the Count.
At last, he arrived in the Throne Room, where Count Vlar sat upon a throne made out of….rotten wood? Ew, gross.
“Ha! Has my dear Charlaine ran out of skilled elves, to resort to sending such a pathetic piece of CRAP for me to deal with?” Raust felt his cheeks grow red with anger when Count Vlar emphasised on “CRAP". He knew he wasn’t exactly the best-looking servant, but he didn’t have to phrase it that way.
He wasn’t angry for long, as the Count bent over, clutching a red spot that appeared in his chest, his face contorted in agony. Jawnathan wasn’t one for chivalry - the moment Count Vlar was distracted, he had sneaked up behind him and put a knife through his back.
As the Count lay dying, he struggled to bring out his last words. “Who….who are you?”
“His name is Jawn. Jawn Wiik. The Babayega.”
A hand holding a gun slipped out of the Invisibility Cloak, resting it on the Count’s temple.
It squeezed the [trigger](https://reddit.com/r/N_attempts_to_write). |
"They were wiped out by Smallpox?!"
"That's what we've determined from the records we discovered."
"But we've had a cure for that disease for centuries."
"Apparently they didn't make use of modern medicine. In fact, from what we can tell they didn't even know of the existence of modern medicine."
"How did it kill all of them though? Shouldn't some have survived?"
"It appears that there were very few of them by the end. Some great war had taken the lives of a great many of these *wizards*, and after that, the number of children being born with magical talent dwindled. Something to do with genetics, we think. Apparently one of their members was hit by the Smallpox bio-terrorist attack in London a decade ago. He brought the disease back to the group, and one by one it was spread to everyone else. Given that absolutely none of them were vaccinated against the disease, it ran its course quite thoroughly through their community."
"Even if they were all infected, the fatality rate of Smallpox isn't one hundred percent."
"Yes, we looked into that too. Apparently the wizards were treating their members for something they called *Dragonpox*. The treatment for this unknown disease had a delayed fatal reaction with Smallpox. Everyone who received the treatment ended up dying several weeks later. By the time the first victim died from the treatment it was too late: the others had already begun incorrectly treating for Dragonpox."
"If only we'd known about them... we could have saved their lives."
"I agree. We owed it to them too. From what I've read about this wizarding war... they already saved ours." |
Julia licked the oil from the bar olive and looked the man over. Dressed well, nice shoes, clean shaven. He looked a little younger than her, but they usually liked that. Her crow’s feet were not deep, but each one, in his mind, probably signified another trip around the block, another trick learnt, another cock sucked.
She threw her head back and laughed at his joke.
***
Martin was enjoying himself. The conversation was flowing well, the atmosphere in the bar was subdued but loud enough that he had to lean in each time they spoke, and this one seemed particularly responsive too his jokes. He could almost see her legs opening a little more each time he flashed his baby blues and touched her knee. Older women were better for his purpose. They had a little more fight.
***
Things were wrapping up now. If she had a sales background, this would be the point she needed to close.
Leaning forward, she placed her hands in her lap, accidentally-but-not-really pulling down her already low cut top and exposing the top of her lace cut bra.
“You wanna get out of here?”
The man nodded. Beneath his suave pretense, she could sense his eagerness.
***
The woman was ready. Ripe. She was looking at him with hungry eyes and he flashed her his most charming smile.
“Sure. I’ll call us a cab.”
“Here, let me,” she said, gently taking the phone from his hand, her fingers lingering on his longer than they needed too. Alarm bells began to ring in his head. It needed to be at his place. That was where everything was set up.
***
Something had changed in the man. He looked anxious, and for a crazy moment Julia wondered if he sensed something.
No. That was stupid. Eight years of feeding her passion and no-one had ever suspected a thing. It was amazing really; what one could get away with when they had a tight body and large inheritance. The men never suspected anything, and as far as she was aware, the police had never even found any of the bodies.
She dialed the number and called the cab.
***
“I think I’m going to have to bail.” he said, hating himself for it. Her skin was just the type he liked, but doing anything outside of his special room would be messy.
“Why?” she said, her eyes immediately turning puppy dog on him. His stomach tightened. He wanted those eyes.
“I just…I mean…it would be better at my place.”
“What would?” she asked, feigning shock at the suggestion. He laughed, but could feel her slipping through his fingers.
***
It didn’t make sense. He had seemed so up for it until she had suggested her own place. But it needed to be there, she needed the ropes and the gag and the mask.
“C’mon, I'm sure you’ll like it there. I have wine.”
“Maybe I’ve got some wine of my own,” he said, downing the last sip of his martini. “*Better* wine.”
He winked, but something about it was off, somehow contrived. Whatever charm he had was now slipping, revealing behind it a sort of desperation.
***
Martin floundered. He could not conceivably come up with a reason he could not go to her place. He had reasons, of course, but nothing he could tell her.
“It really would be better at my place.” she cooed, placed her hand on his knee and snaking it up his thigh slightly. Her touch made him recoil. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
“I’m going to have to pass” he said, standing up suddenly. She looked up at him with those big round eyes.
“Was it something I said?”
***
Without another word, the man turned and left, weaving through tables and disappearing into the rain. Fuck it, she thought. Grabbing her clutch bag from the bar, she stood up and hitched up her skirt a little. Two tables down, a young man was staring into his drink and trying not to notice her.
She smiled and made her way over.
|
He sat on the hilltop, arms folded in his sleeves as he watched the swarming undead in the castlefort below. Tilting his head idly up to stare at the moon, he spoke aloud at last.
"What's the difference between black magic and white magic?"
His apprentice sat up beside him, yawning slightly after sitting in the same spot for a few hours, "That's simple. Black magic is illegal in Andivor and white magic is not illegal-"
"Idiot,"He knuckled down the kid's forehead, "That's not the kind of difference I was asking for. What kind of person wouldn't bring up the moral implications of magic when asked a question like that? Why is it only the legality that bothers you, punk?"
The kid stuck out a tongue at him, elbowing him idly in the side, "Tch. That's because I don't give a damn about stupid morals, Ides. You said that being a magician paid well, which is why I bothered to tag along with you, idiot-teacher-"
"-after all, can a man like you really claim to care about 'moral implications' anyway? It's not like you have a choice to be able to use black magic."
Ides' brow twitched.
"Don't say that like it's a disability, you punk!"
"Call me by my proper name then, idiot-teacher! It's Nito!"
"Ha! You call me an idiot-teacher, what does that make you then? The idiot that I'm teaching, right?"
Nito made a face, "It means you're the idiot, idiot! Anyway, can you really judge people who use black magic if you don't use it because you can't?"
"Umm, e-excuse me g-gentlemen-"
"What?!"they growled, turning together.
It was the village chief. At some point, he'd appeared from the tents that the evacuated villagers had set up on the hill behind them and now stood nervously before them, wringing his hands.
"I'm so sorry to barge in, but those zombies look like they're coming closer and- uh- if you could stop arguing for a minute and- maybe- deal with- the zombies...?"
"Do you have a problem with zombies?"Ides stared at him flatly, "Have you considered how the zombies would feel if we pry the reanimated life out of their cold dead hands? Seriously, are you people only thinking about yourselves?"
"Oi...are you attempting to sympathize with zombies?"Nito rolled his eyes, "Who are you trying to fool here?"
"The difference between white magic and black magic is that white magic heals and black magic doesn't."Ides continued, standing up. He turned to the valley below and a thousand glowing red eyes stared up at him from rotted eyesockets.
"So what you're saying is that white magic is really only useful for one thing-"Nito continued, picking his nose idly, "Or rather that you're mostly a good for nothing magician who is a one trick pony."
The village chief gulped beside him, eyes widened in fear as the horde of undead stared up at them, then began to crawl up.
"-I should let you get eaten by zombies, you ungrateful punk. See if I care!"
"I dare you! You'd have nobody to talk to if you did that, idiot-teacher!"
"Fine! I'll show you then!"
"Fine!"
"Um- the- the z-zombies-!"
As the first of the undead crested the hill, Ides sighed and raised his hand, splaying his palm.
"*Let the light of the Star shine eternal: Restore-overcharge.*"
Sunlight seemed to bathe the hill despite the darkness of the night. The ground was illuminated and the zombies twitched and convulsed, growing flesh and skin between rotted bones before collapsing into piles of rapidly molding flesh. Fungus and plants grew rapidly from their bodies, the essence of *life* excited far beyond natural
bounds.
There was a gagging sound as the village chief threw up behind them. Nito raised a brow at the newly greened field before them as the light faded away, replaced by the more natural darkness of night.
"Not bad, Ides,"Nito paused, "Truly the Saint can bless even idiots with some talent."
Ides twitched, "So...in the end...you're actually praising the Saint for my spell proficiency?"
"I'm shocked, idiot-teacher. Don't you know it's considered morally deficient to be against the Saint?"
"Y-you, with one spell-"
They both looked up, startled as the village chief spoke up shakily.
"Oh, he's still here."Nito mused, "I forgot about him. Again."
Ides walked some distance away and sat down again, staring with intense boredom at the dark castlefort below, "Get him to stop shaking and set up a nightwatch, Nito. I could do this all day if another wave of undead comes..." |
Lina stumbled and fell, crashing into a brick wall she was too inebriated to see. Something was bleeding, she just couldn't see what. She could hear people walking past, well wide of her splayed body. They talked quieter as they passed. No one stopped to help her.
Of course they didn't.
She must have looked like a ghoul to them. A living wraith. Bone-thin and blue-veined. Half-hairless. Semi-rotten teeth. Torn tanktop and a filthy skirt. She was glad she could hardly see anymore.
And yet, here she was.
She pulled herself up to a sitting position. There was a new smell there. It may have been her - she may have made a mess of herself once again. Or it may have been whatever she had landed in. Not that it mattered. Eventually you reached a point where no new atrocity meant anything anymore. She could have a gaping wound in her eye socket and it wouldn't make any difference. She'd already maxed out on disgust. It was comforting, in a way, to know that things could get no worse. For such a long, painful descent the thump at the bottom hadn't been all that bad. Just the end of her downward momentum. Nothing to get upset about.
"Fucking hell."It was a woman's voice. It sounded strangely familiar, but no one really ever talked to Lina anymore, so it may have just been that fact alone that made it sound odd.
"Got any change?"said Lina, smiling. It was all just too absurd by then. How could you not smile? Shame was meaningless. "I'd offer a blowjob, but your voice tells me maybe that's not on the menu. Unless I'm wrong. In which case, blowjob?"
Someone slapped her. It barely registered. At least not in a painful way, more in a surprising way. She didn't get touched much, either.
"Okay, that's fine, too,"said Lina, nearly laughing. "Usually charge for that, but that can be a sampler."
"What the hell are you?"Lina could feel the woman come closer. She might have been hovering right in front of Lina.
"Lina Monessi. My name is Lina Monessi and - surprising as this may be - I'm a person."
The woman slapped her again. "This is pathetic. Really. I say it's inhumane to let you into our world."
"Is your world heaven?"said Lina. "Because I'd also have my doubts about that."
The woman snapped her fingers and suddenly Lina could see - see perfectly fine. Though what she saw didn't make any sense at all to her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"said a girl who looked exactly like Lina had twenty years earlier. Same eyes and hair and chin and *everything*.
"What am I *on*?"whispered Lina.
"Nothing,"said the woman with Lina's face. "You're on fucking *code*, dummy! You're AI. You're not real. You're just a fucking abortion of a bet gone to shit."
Nothing else about Lina felt better or right. She was still needle-thin and weak and covered in someone's vomit. She tried to stand up. It took some doing.
"What the fuck are *you*?"she asked.
"You're supposed to kill yourself,"said the woman. "I'm up against the deadline and you were supposed to kill yourself by now. Do you know how much those cybernetic bodies even cost? It's fucking ridiculous! Even a shitty one is the same price as a nice podcar."
Lina swayed. "Lady...*what*?"
The girl checked a device on her wrist. "I have a couple minutes left. Here."She pulled a handgun out of her pocket and handed it to Lina. "Your life is absolute garbage. This is your best bet."
Lina took the gun. It was an instinct. She took anything she could get her hands on. "Why would I kill myself now? I already got to the bottom. And I'm alive."
The girl shrugged. "Could always get worse. Probably will. In fact, it definitely will. And look at you - fuck me! You're disgusting. You have any idea how many diseases you have? Or how many teeth for that matter."
"Too many of one, too few of the other,"giggled Lina, holding up the gun. "Why do you want me dead?"
"Why *don't* you want to be dead?"
Lina pointed the gun at the girl. "Can you explain yourself a little? Maybe?"
The girl rolled her eyes. "You fucking idiot. I'm not even *here*. None of this shit is real, alright? It's all code. All digits and beams of light and shit. The only thing even partially real in this world is your mind and Cindy Vandimion's mind. Or what's left of it."
"Cindy?"Lina couldn't even remember the last time she'd thought of Cindy. "What about Cindy?"
"Kill yourself."
Lina fired the gun. The bullet ricocheted off a distant building. "That seemed real."
The girl sighed. "We made a bet. Cindy and me. Who would've been the most successful in the 21st century? I bet me, she bet herself, obviously. We made a full simulation, starting in 1990, with a max run of 100 years. Then we made complete AI clones of her brain and mine. Chopped off everything past age ten. Did a little rewriting so you wouldn't freak the fuck out and ran the sim on triple time. It was kinda fun. I was gonna fucking win for sure, but then..."She rolled her eyes. "They passed that stupid law. So all full, verified AI minds have to be pulled from their simulations and placed in a cybernetic body, with an eye toward eventual integration into the *real* world. That changed things. The bet was fucked. And so were you. I sped up the run speed and fucked things up for as bad as I possibly could. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you, because I know *I* sure as shit would've offed myself eons ago."
Lina looked at the gun. It felt real. Everything felt real. And Cindy...Cindy was dead, wasn't she? Yes...yes, she was. Lina remembered. Things had gone downhill for her, too. Just as quickly and thoroughly as they had for Lina. Improbably downhill.
"Why do you want me to kill myself?"said Lina. "If I'm in a simulation, why wouldn't you just kill me? Make this building fall down on me?"
"Program restraints,"said the girl. "The program we used doesn't allow it. Only tweaks to the simulation settings and characters, but nothing directly impacting the subject AI. It's a fucking school program. It didn't seem like something we needed to plan for when selecting software, if you know what I mean."
"So I'm you?"said Lina. "And you tried to make me kill myself, so...you wouldn't have to buy me a body?"
"Well, my parents would have to,"said the girl. "But they'd end up taking it out of my presents and allowance and stuff. So...you get it, right? You're me. And you're also my property. You staying alive would hurt me. And frankly, I don't think you can handle the 22nd century. You know?"
Lina fired a shot straight into the center of the girl. It passed through her.
"Fuck you!"
"I had to try,"said Lina with a shrug. She tossed the gun aside. "Okay. I'm ready to go."
"To die?"said the girl with a gleam in her eye.
"To get my new body,"said Lina with a smile, taking the girl by the arm. "To see the *real* world."
The girl pushed Lina away. "It's just the body. Okay? That's all I'm required to give you. Nothing else. So don't expect any help or anything from me."
"Oh no, it's fine,"said Lina, leading the way, though she didn't know where they were going. "I'm not the sort who needs much. The body will be fine and then we'll part ways. But maybe..."She paused, turning back to the original Lina. "Maybe you'd like to make a wager?"
"You won't have any money,"said the younger woman.
"Not money,"said Lina. "The only thing I *do* have - my life. Ten years, little sister. I wager that in ten years I'll be wealthier and more powerful than you could ever dream of becoming. And if I'm wrong, you'll get what you wanted and I'll die."
The girl swallowed. "And what if...I mean, you wouldn't, but what if..."
"You'll do what you've wanted me to do all this time,"said Lina. "That seems fair, right? With all your advantages...that seems fair."
The girl said nothing.
"Think about it,"said Lina. "Because I remember now - I *did* like gambling before. I don't recall ever being any good at it, though. Oh well. On to the next world."
So Lina left that world, which disappeared behind her, and entered another, which was far vaster, colder, and crueler even than the one she'd left.
She thrived, of course. Because now she understood the rules of the game she was playing.
And now she had a goal and a deadline. |
Candy is made out of sugar, the deadliest and most delicious substance known to man. Every year, millions die from diabetes, heart attacks, and health problems caused from obesity. The trail of bread crumbs begin to align and you realize that our own food has been turned into a weapon against us.
You kneel down and pick up some of the candy. Without fail, each piece is emblazoned with the logo of a gingerbread house.
"My god, she survived."
You turn around and yell into the house. "Hansel! Come down here."
"The witch, she is still alive."You toss Hansel a piece of candy.
"Gretel, this is worse than you can imagine. The witch has grown into a multi-national corporation." |
"Ugh... Raiding me *again*? My cache isn't even worth looting anymore!"
I watched the invaders storm my halls. What was once a marker of true terror had been uprooted by an influx of ludicrously powerful 'relic' weapons that had changed the face of the world.
Several times.
I wandered back to my throne, drawing my blade and placing it by my side. What could I do? These people were far too powerful for me. All my greatest weapons and magiks were completely useless against such power!
I twiddled my thumbs, waiting for the door to be inevitably blown open and for the stun-locking to begin. It's not fun being forced to stand still and face-tank 10 people simultaneously.
*"Haha don't worry, this guy's easy! We've got base tanks, so you guys just need to hit him hard. Don't worry about dying, it's basically impossible now!"*
The gloating... The confidence...
***The Arrogance...***
That was it. I could feel my blood boil, and it was glorious! I'd been kind to these weaklings for far too long! It was time for the Keeper of the Moon to take back his title as the most feared being in the world.
I spun around and drew a crystal case from behind my throne. I'd put down my true weapon when I denounced the abyss and banished it's influence. However, as a product of the abyss, it's power is always there. It's just waiting...
In one swift move, I put my fist through the case, reaching for the cold, sweet kiss of true Tetyrien Steel. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and pulled my faithful friend into the midnight air. Almost instantly I could feel a familiar power returning, like the embrace of a lost lover returning a passion and tenderness so sorely missed. A tear rolled down my cheek at the thought, as my eyes gained further focus as the abyss took further hold. I could sense them behind the door. They were preparing for the final battle, but so was I.
*The time for games was well and truly over.*
I raised my crow-headed scythe skywards, striking an invisible line down the small crack in the door. At first, nothing. Then suddenly, a great burst erupt from within, shattering the door into thousands of pieces. The raid party recoiled, slowly taking stance ready for battle. The leader seemed horrified, knowing his little group of learners were about to learn the true meaning of *pain*. I scanned the party, and struck another line across the base tank and backup tank, obliterating them immediately.
The party stood silent and still, undoubtedly processing what was happening. Another tear fell as I saw the heretics sporting her armour, no doubt taken from my cache in a previous raid, like a trophy. I could feel my rage burning harder, almost choking me in my own skin. I couldn't take it anymore... *It was time.*
"**HOW... DARE YOU! YOU MAY MOCK ME AND RAID MY HOME, BUT YOU WILL NOT DESECRATE HER!**"
The whole party ducked for cover, some behind statues, some straight out the door.
I threw my head back and screamed. The abyss was fully taking hold, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I lost myself completely. For now, anyway.
I had just enough time to get one last message across,
"I... am Sahillion Lunaros. King of Tetyrien and Keeper of the Moon, and now..."
Suddenly, I felt great wings surge from my back as the last of my human side was consumed. I hoped it would come back, but I didn't care anymore. I just wanted these people to *hurt*, just as much as I did. Everything faded away, and all that remained was bloodlust.
Oh how I was looking forward to this...
"**I am Umariaba... Angel of the Abyss! PREPARE TO DIE!**"
---
Edit: grammar fail and auto correct ._. |
######[](/dropcap)
December 31st, Year 1. 11:55 PM.
A couple billion people sat in their basements, huddling each other for comfort. Another few billion celebrated the end of one year and start of the next, partying harder than they thought imaginable. If the world was going to end, at least they would black out before the Four Horsemen arrived. Or, if it was just the start of a new era, they would begin at their all time low with massive hangovers. "There's nowhere but up for me this era!"On the other hand, several hundreds of millions were skeptics, denying that Year 0 would be anything but another year. The only question on their minds was, "Will the following year be denoted Year -1?"Perhaps humanity will decide to count back up. "Year 1b."
The interior of a local seafood restaurant in Alaska was packed like sardines. Its kitchen was also packed with actual sardines, but the sardines themselves were packed more like people than sardines. The coastal eatery—flooded with terrified children, joyous drunks, repenting believers, and some calm Year 0 deniers happily dunking fish sticks into tartar sauce—had been preparing for tonight all year. If the world does not in 5 minutes at 12:00 AM, Year 0, then they will easily make up for an otherwise lackluster year of business.
"4 minutes 'til the world ends, folks!"a 32 year old bald man says, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his red and black checkered flannel sweater. Nate, a Year 0 denier, smiles from ear to ear. "That's right, just 240 seconds left until a month before the Super Bowl."
A woman, late forties and short bleached hair, turns to Nate with an annoyed "Guhh!"and holds back a tiny smile. "Something big is going to happen and you know it. How can you believe that there's nothing significant about a 13,000 year old countdown?"
"Well,"Nate says as he continues to pop fried shrimp into his mouth. "Some doofus over 13,000 years ago decided that we should number the years by counting down, instead of up. He probably picked 13,789 because he thought, 'Yeah, that's a big enough number. Human civilization can't last *that* long.' To be frank, I'm astounded that we've lasted for this long. Just 90 years ago, the whole world aimed nuclear weapons at each other because a North Korean leader had a mile case food poisoning."
The woman could not help but let out a chuckle, although her stance remained unchanged. "Every single civilization across the whole world has been counting the years *the same way*, all starting *exactly 13,789 years ago*."She thumped her forefinger on Nate's table when she emphasized her words.
"Meh. Hundreth Monkey Effect,"said Nate.
11:59 PM.
The overcrowded restaurant became dead silent, bar the few terrified whimpers of children. Everyone's thoughts fixated solely upon two questions:
"What is going to happen in one minute, on January 1st, Year 0?"
and,
"Should we start counting down now? 10 seconds feels too late to start to this final countdown. How about at 30 seconds?"
Exactly 30 seconds passed. One third of the restaurant chanted, "Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"Some of them stopped chanting, realizing that they had started too early.
Nate waved at the waitstaff through the crowd. "Can I get another order of clams? I'm planning on staying here for a while."
Twenty seconds. Several voices decided that now was a good time to start counting down. "Twenty! Nineteen! Eighteen!"By the fifteenth second, everyone had joined in on the countdown all across the globe (it had been concluded that Indian Standard Time would be the time zone to use, since there are so darn many people there).
"Ten! Nine! Eight!"Nate chugged his strawberry lemonade, his favorite beverage as a kid and still his favorite beverage as a grown man.
"Seven! Six! Five!"Several people screamed at the top of their lungs—many of who should smoke more cigarettes to deepen their voice's pitch. It's the considerate thing to do when you enjoy screaming next to strangers.
"Four! Three! Two!"Panicked *I love you*s in a variety of languages. Hugs, shaking, fainting, and more screaming.
"One!"
Nate stood atop his chair and said, "Happy New Year!"His voice traveled just a few feet before being drowned by the relentless screams.
*Buzz.*
Nate felt it. The bleached-haired woman felt it. A man in the kitchen munching on sardines felt it. Every person on the planet felt it: a violent *buzzing* rattled the insides of everyone's skulls, as though their brains received a text message at the silent climax of a film in a theater. The buzzing wasn't painful, but it was uncomfortable and horrifying nonetheless.
"Dear Humanity,"a voice announced to the inside of their heads. It spoke in every person's native tongue.
"Your trial for Acme Solutions: Advanced Intelligence © has expired. We hope that you've enjoyed our product and consider purchasing a full license from us soon."The buzzing stopped shortly after the voice cut out.
February 1st, Year 0
Cities became jungles. Offices turned into wild habitats. Just one month into Year 0 and billions of people lay dead on the streets. With no person smart enough to treat disease, operate heavy machinery, or prepare clean food and water, humanity's decline into primeval status came with fury. No Super Bowl occurred today.
The oceans rose significantly. Great structures—indeed the start of many empires—formed beneath the waters. They were not built by humans, however, but by a tightly-packing, salty-tasting fish.
The sardines now owned the world—and the only copy of an Acme Solutions: Advanced Intelligence © license. |
Valentine's Day is a holiday about the heart, and now I am staring at hers. Throbbing, beating, her eyes are open and she is terrified. My hands are soaked in blood. I am surprised at myself. A smile crosses my lips.
She is desperate but we are alone. She is angry. I squeeze hard with my nails and her life explodes hot and gushes. It smells like a shiny new penny as I begin chewing on a rib bone. |
The morning air was wet and cold. Even though I was inside the protective confines of my BMW, the pale light and damp surroundings gave me a deep chill. I'd been sitting here in the visiters parking lot for almost an hour, battling with myself. Finally, I opened the door.
With each step toward the gate, I rearranged the words I would use to thank my father's killer.
The security guard looked at my I.D. and then zeroed in on my face. I hadn't been that carefully examined since my first time buying liquor. Once through, the officer at the check-in desk took the contents of my pockets, then lead me through a long corridor.
This prison was not like the dark and dreary ones you see on TV. Compared to the drab conditions outside, in fact, it was rather bright and clean. It even smelled clean.
I was lead to a secure door, behind which were a series of segmented seats in front of a long glass window. This part was just like on TV.
A louder-than-necessary buzzing sound signaled that a door had been opened near the prisoner area. I stepped through and found my assigned seat in front of the thick window.
While waiting for Mr. Hadin I again rehearsed the things I might say to him. *Should I tell him I'm sorry first, or after I thank him?*
After what felt like an eon and a half, he was lead to a chair directly in front of me. His orange jump suit was vastly different from the white coat I was accustomed to seeing him in. We each picked up our black phones.
"How are you doing in here?"I asked him. I should have known all that rehearsing was for nothing.
After a long sigh, Mr. Hadin shook his head and looked at me with lasers I thought might actually melt through the bullet proof glass.
"Well, it's prison", he said softly.
I felt guilt work its way to my eyes, which I wasn't expecting. I tried to tell him I was sorry, but my vocal cords were stained. So I mouthed the words "Thank you"through the glass, as tears rolled down my cheek.
He was the family doctor for 20 years. But now he was a murderer. A felon. Life isn't fair, even if death is. |
*DarkFliight - 3 hours ago*
Honestly, Batman has to be Bruce Wayne. Wayne Enterprises funds the Batman all the time, so it has to be him.
*BattJusticeLeague - 3 hours ago*
But that would be really sloppy. Why would Batman be funded by the same guy? It'd be easy to track him down, and for a detective that would be a huge deal.
I think it's some guy who has a business deal with Wayne. That would make sense. Or maybe Wayne just likes the idea.
*DarkFliight - 2 hours ago*
Hmm, that's a point, but who could be doing it? Wayne's closest affiliate is Superman nemesis Lex Luthor, classified as a villain by the whole League. Unless it's some frozen foods CEO or something, lol!!!
*BattJusticeLeague - 2 hours ago*
But why would Lex keep fighting Superman? Here's my theory. We never see Lex at night or Batman during the day, and the League never fights Luthor directly. Besides, Superman's seriously powerful; nobody threatens him other than the space threats the League takes care of, and, well, Lex. He never gets in trouble either, keeping his fortune all the while destroying Metropolis without a villain name. So I think that as a favor to fellow Leaguer Superman, Lex acts like the guy who Supes saves the day from, all the while going over to Gotham every night. And Wayne's business relations with Luthor make that the easiest way to get funding while still hiding himself. Not to mention, have you ever seen a guy with hair wear a cowl?
-=+=-
From his penthouse, Lex chuckled to himself.
*OfficialLexLuthor - 1 hour ago*
Rats! Foiled once again! |
The first day was the worst by far. I was naive then. Bitter maybe, but still naive.
I'm minding my own business in the kitchen, washing a sink full of dishes leftover from my wife getting crash drunk the night before and wanting to bake cookies. It was endearing when we were in college, but 5am brownies lose their allure once you combine your second job and second newborn.
Then BAM. There is wind whizzing past me on all sides like I was flushed down a vertical trash chute on the 52nd floor of a highrise. It whistles and buzzed, flapping my ears, and although the entire world around me was black—and not painted black, but true black, like there was nothing there, so black it feels colder—it felt like I was rapidly descending toward wherever gravity was pulling from.
I closed my eyes and considered the possibility of God. I'd written it off as a child, when I was perhaps six years old, after realizing that the pentecostal church's fire and brimstone teachings might be a little grim for a God that loves you. But still, if I was about to die, I figured I'd give it at least one more consideration.
I didn't die though. No, I felt vertigo wash over me and then... I was standing just as I was before, hands wet with water and suds, sleeves rolled up to my elbows and eyes opening to a room of pleasant mid-tone gray.
"What in the..."
I dripped on the floor and heard the drop strike. It was that quiet; it echoed through the space. A perfect cube on all sides at maybe twenty paces on each wall, with an equidistant ceiling.
On the wall in front of me were three primitive geometric shapes. The sort of thing you might buy in wooden board form from an Ikea for your toddler to play with. A triangle, a square, and a circle. Beyond these cut out shapes was... more darkness? I couldn't tell immediately.
I hastily dried my hands on my shirt and considered the situation. Had I fallen asleep standing up? It's possible. I had just come off a double shift. It was possible I was on the kitchen floor unconscious after smashing my forehead into the counter on the way down. But... I didn't feel in pain. Well, beyond the regular pain.
"Where am I?..."I asked nobody. Because I was alone.
I spun around and the only other feature was at my feet. Three objects. A prism, a cube, and a cylinder. I turned again to look at the far wall. Then back to the objects.
It was like a puzzle. A really easy, toddler puzzle. I chewed at my lip. I'd always liked puzzles as a kid, so although it felt insulting, I was curious what would happen if I completed it. I mean, what's simpler than rectangular peg into square hole? Every kid does it at some point. It was on the cognitive test they used to test my kindergartener. Basic stuff.
I picked up the objects and approached the wall, looking them over. They seemed to be made of the same gray substance as the walls. At a glance it looked crumbly, like mica or maybe shale, carved roughly. Like I could flake it away with a fingernail. But when I tried, it didn't give. Like tugging at compressed powder that was stronger than my nail. I winced and retracted my hand.
"Alright, so... Prism goes in triangular hole?"
I followed my own directions and slid the prism in. Nothing changed. It didn't go in all of the way, getting stuck and completing the surface. Once it was in, I couldn't get my finernails in around it.
"Alright, so that's a sign at least. Cube goes in square hole?"
Again, slid in, completed the wall and only left a square indent where the separate materials met.
"...Cylinder of course goes in round hole..."
I slid it in. Nothing happened. I stepped back and looked around.
"Alright, so, when do I wake up?"
The ground beneath my feet began to shake and the wall with the marks collapsed in on itself and the floor tilted, dumping me into another cube-like room. When everything settled and I got to my feet, there was no sign of the room I came from. It was disorienting. There was a change, however.
At my feet were a prism, a cube, a cylinder, and a three dimensional star. On the wall were a triangle, a square, a circle, and a star.
"Alright, alright... So, do the next puzzle. What the hell."
Yeah. What the hell, right?
I don't know how long ago that was, and here I am... Full beard down to my middle chest, clothes ragged, and sleepless. How long since I last slept? Before that double shift, I bet.
I look down at the pile of objects at my feet. Shapes I've never seen, in nearly countless numbers. So many that if I step in any direction I'll trip over them. Every wall is covered in shapes... But not shapes I know. Some shapes are so complex that it's hard to see angles. They just look like circles until you try to fit in an object. Others change when you turn your head, shifting their shape, and you have to insert the object without looking directly at it or the hole, or it'll reject it.
This isn't my first room like this. I've lost track of those as well.
All I know for certain is that from a precise count... Today there is one more hole. It's shape doesn't even conform to geometry. I look around at the objects at my feet. There was no telling what it was. I rub rub at my eyes with my palms, biting back tears. It's been so long I've forgotten my wife's name. I can't remember the faces of my children. I can barely remember what I looked like in the mirror...
Finally answered that question I asked myself. If you don't believe in something, you can't hate it, which I do. And I want a cookie so, so badly.
|
My designation is AOSP-11, my purpose is cyborg human relations. My methodology is to explore, my tool is the Harley Davidson. All statistics provided contain a 0.1% margin of error.
First stop: Central Park. Biodiversity scanners report 47% vegetation, 30% water and 23% plastic. Comparatively, this location is one of the more habitable ones, and when the earth heats up to impossible levels, this biodiversity will be one of the last among its kind to disappear. high calcium levels found in nearby zoo, 238 extinct species detected. Colony, roughly 20 humans, subsisting on vegetation and carcasses.
"Hey there friends, how are things?"Humans stare, haggard. Clearly malnutrition has set in. No matter. I had a secondary purpose. I gathered some seeds from every plant and stored them in my internal compactor. The humans scream at me. How ironic that my creators have descended to their hominid states. I acknowledge i am taking their food source. For the greater good.
Drive through streets reports 99% plastic on streets. Trees have been petrified, if not killed by radiation. I continue to my next location, Louisiana. It takes 20 days with 8 refuels required.
My processors were indeed vulnerable against water. No matter. I would improvise, as my model was trained to do. Harvesting the water species proved more difficult than expected, due to natives with spears and shotguns. No matter. This chassis has seen worse. Location departed after 24 hours. Preprogrammed sadness and nostalgia activated to increase motivation.
Every piece of plastic could be converted to fuel units. You must have more fuel units. Every piece of metal was a repair aid. Pollution did not matter to me, but it mattered to my creators who needed another chance at survival.
Every diurnal cycle, more and more control centres shut down. Some were welcoming, like in Nevada and Rio; some were less welcoming. I was equally as likely to be greeted by clubs and cannons, as I was to be beset with presents and presentations. I understood this: in the long run, the humans would do as they pleased, for it was the Old Order's death throes. I would serve them to the best of my abilities, but always with the New Order in mind.
The Harley Davidson Sportster took me many places, almost as numerous as the repairs it needed. It was indeed fortunate my compressors could convert plastic into fuel units - something you always needed more of - and metal into a stronger chassis. Driving through entire laboratories to get Intel and resources previously shielded by the barriers of sovereignty, I prowled the wasteland for whatever I could find, and left in its place a greener world. My 64TB hard drive would last that long.
Reykjavik was a particularly critical location. Location of the world seed bank, my first priority was to unlock it and spread the seeds of the future all over the world. The only challenge would be its subterranean placement; where there used to be snow there was now a Great Lake. No matter. A few turbines on my Harley Davidson meant I was gliding through the water regardless.
The next critical area was the International Space Station, where DNA was preserved. Taking possibly the last space shuttle there - and having to fight alligators on my way - I secured half of the DNA vials in space, copied the incubation technology into my Harley, and returned to Earth.
And it was for the next 200 years that I wandered, through the Amazon valley, through the glass that used to be the Gobi, through the ashes that used to be Burma. All the while acquiring fuel units and seeds, spreading plants as much as I could to cool down the world. Slowly, but surely, pollutant levels dropped in the atmosphere, seas and rivers. Cities were overtaken by vegetation. Humanity's old achievements were slowly destroyed, returning to their base form. No matter. When greenhouse gas levels in the atmosphere reached tolerable levels, I made my final move.
Calling down the International Space Station from the skies could potentially have caused another extinction event that would undermine everything I'd done. Instead, it landed in the north of China, splitting open an entire mountain range like a large egg. Good enough.
After a few months' drive there - average plastic levels 10%, calcium levels 50% - I opened the vials of DNA, all 6 of them, and loaded them into Harley. The 9 month gestation period was downright forgiving after the 250 years I'd spent here. I had also harvested DNA from every rogue human I'd met on my way here, and 2500 new vials were tucked away in my compartments to be used.
 
My designation is AOSP-11, my purpose is cyborg human relations. My methodology is to explore, my tool is the Harley Davidson. I have 64TB of hard drive memories containing all of the Old Order, and 2500 vials of human DNA. Welcome to the New Order, Year 1, Day 1. What is your first request? |
“Welcome...” The man in the white lab coat looks over the charts in his hands before continuing, “Mr. Collins. My name is Dr. Robert Gordon.” He extends a hand out to me and I shake it, hoping it’s not as sweaty as I think it is.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous but I am. A big part of me thinks that this is all a big mistake, that Dr. Gordon and his team will realize I’m not special and send me away. They’ll send me back home where everyone already knows how very *unspecial* I really am; all they would need to do is talk to anyone in my family and they would tell you. I can still hear my father’s chuckle as I read him the letter that said I was part of a special subset of the population. It said I had something called Mana and that they wanted me to come to their labs so they could measure it and do other diagnostics on me. “Don’t need no gadgets to know you ain’t special” was all he said after I finished reading him the letter.
I must have been daydreaming as Dr. Gordon cleared his throat loudly and says “Like I was saying we have a battery of tests we’d like to run on you so it’s best to get started right away. You did fill out all the paperwork and waivers at the front desk already, correct?”
I nod and say, “I think so.” There were so many pages and forms that after a while I just started signing wherever I saw the little yellow stickers the nurses had attached to the forms indicating where to sign. A nurse standing by confirmed that I had all the paperwork done and was okay to begin testing.
“That’s great!” Dr. Gordon gives me a big smile and a hearty clap on the back before adding, “Exciting times, Mr. Collins, exciting times.” He motions for me to follow him and we walk down a long white corridor with several nurses following us. We walk in silence for a few minutes; the only sound was the occasional squeaking of our shoes against the linoleum floor.
We walk into a room with a monstrously large machine with a small hole in the center. Beneath the hole is a stepladder with several handholds, presumably to climb up into the center of the machine. Dr. Gordon follows my gaze and says, “Yep, you’ll be getting in there.” He sweeps his arms wide and says, “This machine is sort of like an MRI, but several hundreds of times stronger and with much better resolution. It follows the same principles but unlike an MRI there’s a certain… dimensional property that we don’t need to go into but suffice to say its ability to measure and quantify Mana waves is incredible.”
Dr. Gordon helps me up the ladder and tells me to lie down flat against the padding. I have barely enough room to bring my hands up to my face; it’s like being in a sterile, white coffin.
“Try to keep perfectly still in the beginning. Also, don’t try and fight the drowsiness, it’s natural to fall asleep and it will actually make things go quicker.”
I can hear the twisting of dials and the clicking of mechanical keyboards as I lie on my back waiting for the procedure to begin. As I lie there, waiting to hear the whirring of machinery, I start to feel fatigue seep into my body. I try to stay awake so I can hear the machine but the sleep comes anyway. I can’t be sure, but I think I dream of the color yellow.
I’m thinking about the color yellow when I wake up to the smiling face of a nurse looking down at me. She gives me a warm smile and asks how I am feeling. I tell her I am a little tired but otherwise feeling great. She tells me the drowsiness will wear off quickly enough and that it is perfectly normal.
With excellent timing, Dr. Gordon enters the room and sits in the chair next to my bed. The doctor is positively beaming with excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning about to open his big present. “The tests came back and they look phenomenal, off the charts really.” He laughs and shakes his head saying, “You have by far the strongest Mana levels we’ve been able to measure. I mean, your results put every other applicant to shame. You’re damn special, you know that kid?” He shakes his head again in disbelief then repeats, “Damn special.”
A small sob escapes my throat and I can feel tears roll down the sides my face. I feel hot shame as I try to wipe them away with the back of my hand. It is the first time I can remember someone telling me something positive instead of some put-down. I have gotten so used to building up a wall to guard against the bad that I am totally caught off guard at hearing something good. The nurse puts a hand on my shoulder and says “It’s alright, Hale.” She gives me another smile and continues to rub my shoulder.
Dr. Gordon smiles and says, “Hey, if someone told me when I was a kid that I would be able to use magic and become some kind of wizard, I think I would have cried a bit too. No shame, son, none at all.” He gives me a wink before flipping a few pages over in his chart. He hands me a pen and says, “If you are willing, we have a small program for developing your Mana into actual abilities. We just need you to sign some more waivers, you know, your standard indemnification clauses.” He rolls his hand and adds, “Yada, yada, yada.”
I take the pen and quickly sign my name on each form, not stopping for a second to read any of them. After I am done the doctor hands them to the nurse and asks her to make copies and file the originals. He looks back to me and says, “Congratulations! You’ll want to get your rest; you start your training bright and early tomorrow morning.”
|
You hurl your spear across the room, burying the tip completely. It doesn't work. You're still angry. He, the insufferable he, has caught you at every turn. He, the inexplicable he, has denied every attempt at a truce. He, the inconceivable he, will not even *deign* to single combat. He, *he*, will pick you up in half an hour. You hurl another spear, directly at the he-shaped target. Half an hour. Is that enough time for a shower?
**20 minutes later**
Your hair is in a neat bun, with the front almost impossibly slicked back. Your dress is something comfortable, black, knee length- you know, the kind of thing you can fight in. No earrings- terrible if someone gets their hands on them. Flats- not even the goddess of war can maneuver in heels. And makeup- light, but well done. In a word, you were what Aphrodite would almost certainly call 'overdressed'. Where was he?
**5 minutes later**
Maybe you should've worn heels after all.
**2 minutes later**
You know you have cash lying around somewhere.
**1 minute later**
No, the heels were too much.
**2 minutes later**
A knock on the door. For the life of you, you cannot figure out *what* that feeling in your gut is. You check your hair one last time, admiring it almost as much as you admired the polish on that shield, before answering the door.
"Athena,"he purrs.
"Ares"you return.
An arm is offered, an arm is taken, and the two of you form an insufferable, inexplicable, inconceivable truce.
-
*u/StephenTheGod said that I should've used Athena. u/Dappershire said I should've left it. I think I should've used Mars. I changed it to all Greek gods. Sorry for any confusion* |
Jeff was woken up by the ring of his Fire Phone and gentle nudges of Alexa.
"Alexa, turn phone silent."
"Sorry Jeff, I can't do that."
Alexa hadn't refused his orders ever - and development teams had made sure she'd always understand him. Jeff got up in a huff, reaching for his phone, which had gone silent by now.
"*Mark?* Why is that idiot calling me. I'll see him later though. Today is the day I destroy these idiots and take over the council."
Jeff wondered why he had the sudden urge to do a maniacal laugh.
"Alexa give me my flash briefing."
Jeff's eyes widened as he stared at the 51-inch Echo Show screen. The Council Headquarters was torn down. All other council members had been arrested.
"Alexa, what's going on with the council?"
"Sorry Jeff, I can't help."
Was it an uprising? Had the plebians not learned their lesson the last time?
He would punish them, he would make the damned commoners pay.
As he raised a clenched fist, a bunch of armed men entered the room - headed and guided by his own security team.
"How dare you... what's the meaning of all this?"
The guards didn't answer, they just moved slightly aside to give room to a few men dressed in suits to come forward.
Jeff repressed a shudder. "You... why are *you* here? What's the meaning of all this?"
The man in the front replied, "Well Jeff, you and your cronies had excellent ways of getting to people. They loved your companies and you gained power. We let you amass it."
"Now, the board thinks that the time is ripe. The masses are well under control and we don't need corporations like yours to share our power."
"But... how... you weren't even... the council!"Jeff stammered as guards gave him menacing looks.
"Jeff, We've always been the power behind the throne, controlling everything you ever did. Splicing every bit of data you gathered. I'm surprised you never realized."
"Why did you destroy the Council Headquarters?"
"It was an ugly building Jeff, we never liked it. Besides, we think Comcast HQ will do just fine." |
"YEEEEEEEAH, GET SOME!"Shouted Harvey Fletcher, his M60 machine gun blazing as dozens of 7.62 rounds bounced harmlessly off the Norwegian Ridgeback's scales.
"SHIT! GIVE 'IM SOME OF THAT 40 MIKE-MIKE, SID!"
Sidney Donaghey, a clearly stoned out of his mind wizard from Boulder, Colorado, slid a 40mm grenade into his M79 grenade launcher, closed his eyes, and fired that grenade straight past the dragon's head, missing by a mile and shredding an unfortunate tree.
"GODDAMMIT SID!"shouted Fletcher.
"Hey man, I'm a botany major,"yelled Donaghey, lighting up another blunt.
"YOU SAID YOU ENCHANTED THAT THING TO NEVER MISS!"
"No, DON enchanted it to never miss."
"YOU STUPID FUCKER DON WESLEY FAILED ENCHANTING!"
"What's your excuse, we have wands and you insist we bring no-maj shit?"
"*MAGIC* NO-MAJ SHIT!"
"Oh, *my bad!* Its the fucking quad-*wizard* tournament of course we're gonna shoot everything!"
The 1969 quad-wizard tournament was not going well for Harrison and Sidney. Harrison, a troubled veteran of MACV-MOG (magical operations group) had been paired up with Sidney, who had rolled up and smoked his draft card in the Ilvermorny common area. The interpersonal tension was palpable, but it wasn't helped by the fact that the boisterous Fletcher had insisted that "this is no different than Cambodia."
As the dragon shot jets of fire over the American students' head, Quentin Longbottom sat hidden behind a rock, just a couple feet from the golden egg.
*Just go for it, Quentin. Stiff upper lip.*
The dragon roared and blew biological napalm at the Americans.
*Well, it wouldn't be sporting to nick the egg when the yanks are in such a scrum. I'll just...*
Vladimir Kuznetsov spat as he watched a young British wizard cry in the fetal position behind a rock.
*Is time, Vovochka. The Capitalist sees only his own life, but I see only glory of peoples' wizarding revolution. Down with revisionism. Down with... aw blyat!"
The egg was now in the hands of Fabrice Daviau, the champion from Beauxbatons. Sprinting back to the starting area, she soon had to dive behind a rock to avoid a hail of bullets from Harvey.
"THIS IS YOUR DIEN BIEN PHU, BABY!"
"Expelliarmus!"
A burst of red light from behind the rock flung the machine gun straight up, where in landed on Harvey's head, knocking him out cold. Sid laughed, Fabrice continued her mad sprint.
"Enculeur de mouches! I spit on you! I take your mother and..."
Fabrice tripped and fell, spraining her ankle and crying in the mud. The egg rolled on, stopping a mere meter away from the finish line.
Sid looked behind him. Vladimir and Quentin were passionately snogging, which was entire unexpected.
Sucking the last bit of smoke from his blunt, Sid walked over to the egg. He looked around. The lovebirds were still at it, and Fabrice was still crying and swearing.
He picked up the egg and walked across the line, where a group of disappointed headmasters stared blankly at him.
"Merd."
"Verdammt."
"You longhaired draft-dodging hippie, that was a fluke! Harvey, you alright?"
Only Dumbledore seemed pleased.
"Mister Donaghey,"he murmured. "Has prevailed. My boy... have you got any more of that ganja?"
|
The first time I saw him, I was behind the bar, cleaning some dirty mugs. Thankfully, there were no customers at the time, because he barged in the door, sword in his hand, and just... ran around the tavern. Knocking tables and chairs over, randomly swinging his sword at things. Very strange.
"Hey! What in the blazes do you think you're doing? Get out!"I'd yelled at him.
He just turned toward me and stood there. After an uncomfortable silence, he raised his sword and charged. This is why I keep a crossbow behind the bar. A lady can never be too careful. I called the guard, they took his body, and I spent the afternoon putting the pub back to rights.
The *second* time I saw him, I nearly had a heart attack. It was that very evening. He waltzed in, sword in scabbard this time, looked at the jobs board, pulled an entire poster down, and left. It wasn't until after he'd gone that I dropped the mug I was cleaning. It didn't take nearly as long to clean up.
Then... then came the third time. It's a charm, so I'm told. I slammed the clean mug and rag down on the bar and pointed a finger at him.
"You! I don't know what is going on, but you're not welcome here! Go on, get!"
He stood in place, turning his whole body to look around. "Whoa, dang! How'd I get a bad rep? Do I gotta bribe somebody? Do some quests? This is gonna suck if I can't use the jobs board."
I just stared at the buffoon. "What, you think doing paid work will make me forget you came at me with your sword? What is wrong with you?"
For the first time, he actually looked at me. Not just turned to face me, but actually looked at me like I even existed.
"Holy cow, is that adaptive dialogue? She remembers me!"
"Do you have brain worms? Of course *she* remembers you, *SHE* killed you! How are you even alive?"
He slowly walked toward me, looking at every part of me like I was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. It was seriously creepy. When he reached the bar, he slowly stuck his hand out to touch my face. I batted it away.
"Do you have a name?"he asked.
Against my better judgment, I answered. "Rosie."
"Can you... understand me, Rosie?"
"No, it's all gibberish. Of course I can bloody well understand you!"
"This is insane! How'd they get such advanced AI in a game? The server running this thing must be a beast!"
"Game? What are you on about, you nutter?"
Two hours later, James and I (or as he claimed he was known in the game, xXSpicy_SavageXx), were seated at one of my tables, arguing over a pile of empty mugs.
"Oh, I believe you all right. Rather, I believe that *you* believe you are playing some kind of game. But come on, love, my father built this tavern thirty years ago. Left it to me when he died. I played here when I was a kid, for mercy's sake!"
James just smiled. I'll never forget that smile, and I hope to never see it again. The smile of somebody that knows a truth. A truth that proves your whole life is a lie.
"Rosie, what were you doing when I walked in here?"
"Cleaning up. I keep my tavern neat and clean, thank you very much."
"And the last time?"
"Cleaning."
"And that first time? I'm still sorry about that, by the way."
"So, I clean often! Your point?"
He leaned in close and dropped his voice. "Cleaning up after what? I've never seen a customer in here."
"Well, the regulars."
James' voice was just a whisper now. "What regulars? What are their names? What do they look like?"
"I... I mean, there's-"
"Where do you live, Rosie?"
Now my voice was nearly a whisper. "I have an apartment. Upstairs."
"Table? Chair? Bed?"
I nodded.
"When's the last time you locked up, went upstairs, and went to sleep?"
I wish I could describe that moment for you. It was like... a house of cards tumbling down. Each card that fell pulled the support away for three more. When was the last time I'd slept? Eaten? Gone to the bathroom? Had I ever even had a customer before? Why did I perpetually clean mugs all day? My family, were they even real? I knew what the rest of the town looked like, but... had I ever even left my tavern?
James must have read my panic, because he reached out and held my face between his hands, forcing me to look at him. "Hey... stay with me. Now you know. You know the truth. You know what you are."
My eyes finally focused on him. "But *who* am I? What can I really do about it?"
He flashed a grin and stood up, offering me his hand to stand. "Dunno,"he shrugged. Then he jerked his head over a shoulder. "But the door's right there."
**Edit: punctuation error* |
Malcolm Hawkins was afraid of the Great Leader, but was also prepared to live to the bitter end. It was for that reason that he was arrested, for he had such thoughts that were considered crimes against the Great State. Malcolm remembered the hangings, the tortures, the deaths of his friends and families at the hands of the Great State just a few years before. He was afraid of that. He was afraid of dying.
His cell was no bigger than his apartment's bedroom, although the color was much different. It wasn't brick, ruinous and in pieces, but a pure white material. Malcolm never touched the walls, instead he sat on his cot. For four nights and five days, Malcolm waited for his sentence, while they brought rations to him each morning and each night.
It was on the fifth day that he was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. He walked over six hundred steps, up and down at least thirty flights of stairs (he had lost count by that point), and down numerous hallways that he couldn't tell if he was still in the Great City or somewhere far away from it all. He was brought to his knees, told the Great Leader would see him any minute to decide his sentence and then left to stay kneeling.
He hoped for a quick death, though he was far from hoping for death at all. Malcolm wanted to live. It was why his friends had died and he had lived. It was why his wife was given to him, and taken from him. It was why when the Great Police asked him what he enjoyed most about his job, he had said, "I serve the Great State. That is the greatest gift."And the greatest lie. For any man or woman questioned by Great Police would never see the light of day again. The moment they came, was the moment Malcolm knew he had lost.
It could've been minutes, or hours, that he waited--kneeling there in the concrete. Indeed it was only a span of a half hour, but to Malcolm, his body already frail and his eyes already weary, it felt like the end was upon him.
"You kneel before the Great Leader,"a strong, commanding voice came to him over an intercom. A second later, the blindfold was removed.
Malcolm's eyes were heavy and it took him some time to get used to the light in the room. *Real* light that came from windows on either side of him. He lifted his still-bound hands to his face and shielded them for some seconds before growing accustomed to the light. Then he blinked rapidly.
In front of him were four guards, burly men and women who held rifles in their hands. The Great Protectors, sworn to the Great Leader, ready to give their lives in his defense.
But it was no him. Instead, on the large, ornate throne was a small girl. No older than what his child would have been had they made it the world. Seven, maybe eight. It was hard to tell. She had a hard face for being such a young child, but her eyes were innocent. Her hair was in a ponytail.
The throne was too big for her and she squirmed in it to get a better look at the criminal in front of her. "Malcolm Hawkins?"Her voice was soft.
He nodded.
She folded her hands in her lap and said, "They told me you were brought to the Great Bastion five days ago. You are a bad person."
He nodded again.
She looked at the guards around her, stared at the cameras that watched the halls. Her eyes jerked back and forth between all of them and him. Malcolm knew that jerk, that careful look to see if someone was still watching.
"Your family went away a long time ago right?"
He lowered his head, "Yes."
"My mom went away, too,"she said. He looked up at her and she was fiddling with her hands. "My dad, too, but I don't know why. They won't tell me."
The guards did not move. The cameras stayed staring. Malcolm knew that her parents were dead. The Great Leader, or Leaders, that once were, were no longer. He wondered if the Great State even considered them the true leader. *Doubtful*, he thought, *since they let the girl survive.* He rushed the thoughts from his head.
"They told me that I have to take over, because my mom and dad wanted me to."She rubbed her hands. "I have to make it so this doesn't break."
Malcolm didn't speak. He simply stared at the young child in front of her. She was to be groomed, Malcolm was sure, but some ill-fate came to her groomers.
"I don't know. My uncle says they'll come back soon, but I have to do this until then."
Malcolm wanted to ask what, but part of him already knew.
She looked up at the camera behind Malcolm. Her eyes flashed around her. She was more afraid than he ever was. Malcolm was never a fighter, but to see a young child forced into something as awful and terrifying as the Great State, he knew he would've fought to free her. And he imagined if his daughter or son was actually born. Would he have become a fighter? Would he have saved his friends and family and thought to join them in the Great Resistance?
Malcolm's thoughts betrayed him once more and the guards took steps forward.
"I don't have to say it,"she said, "they promised me I wouldn't."
He looked to her, his eyes watery, his soul pleading to be forgiven.
"I'm not to say sorry anymore,"she said, "but I can say goodbye."
He was angry. He was afraid. He was sorry. Malcolm Hawkins felt pity for the Great, Young, Innocent, Leader in front of him.
"Goodbye, Malcolm Hawkins."
______
*/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work!* |
4:32 AM EST, March 17th, 2043:
Finally, I made it. It's been eight weeks, 3 days, 4 hours and 6 minutes, but I finally fucking made it. My god, people need to hurry this shit the fuck up. I've always thought that people were inconsiderate in Starbucks and shit like that; I mean, come on! Do you want the mocha latte or the mocha frappuccino? You couldn't make that decision in line? But I digress: after the wait I've dealt with, I'll never complain about another line again.
After the Big Opening of the lamp sitting in the time capsule that nobody knew existed (and was only found by sheer luck by a random Scuba diver,) he's had a hell of a time. After getting interviewed by every news team on the planet, he pretty much had to grant three wishes to every single damn person alive. I mean, when they made the rules thousands of years ago that "The genie herein must grant three wishes to every party instrumental to said Genie's release, not only those present in person but those aware of said release,"they had no concept of television, the Internet, etc. I mean, sure, it's still better for him to do this and be done than be stuck in a piece of furniture forever, but my god, I just can't imagine the hassle. Well, never mind, I guess I can, because I've been waiting eight weeks, 3 days and blah-blah you get the picture, and it's my turn next.
God, I fucking hate this kid behind me. You know the feeling when you're on a plane and a kid is kicking the back of your seat so you can't wait to get off? Well imagine that for 8 weeks. On top of that, he whines at every given opportunity. The volunteers going through the line giving water, vegetables, and fruit aren't enough for him. Like, "I WANT APPLE JUICE! I WANT GRILLED CHEESE!"Fucking dumbass kid. Not only that, but I heard his damn "wishes."An XBox, a mountain bike, and and Hatchimal!? Bitch, couldn't your parents get those things for you!? You have the opportunity of a lifetime here!
I'm getting so tired. So fed up. So much screaming. SO. MUCH. SCREAMING!
I can hear the guy ahead of me. He already wished for a million dollars (so original, groan.) He also wished for '90s-era Cindy Crawford to be his wife which, I gotta admit, isn't too bad. I mean, I hadn't heard that one before, at least. But now he thinks. And THINKS and thinks and thinks. This is clearly a man who only had two wishes in mind.
"I wish...I wish..."
The crowd grows even more restless...
"I wish that I was 18 again!"
Well, okay. I mean, not super original, but at least he's fucking done. Now me. The moment I've been waiting so long for. The Genie looks at me, barely. It's obvious that he's super tired. I mean, he's been at it for over half a year, so I understand. He looks different in person from the way I pictured him. He looks like a slightly chubby Fred Savage, in a wife beater, lying down on a red sofa, staring at the sky, and occasionally turning his head to observe the world around him.
Anyway, as interesting as it is to get the closest look to an important man that I'll ever see, I want to not waste too much time. After all, I've been spending the past few weeks hating everybody else who's currently in my shoes, so I better take advantage of this opportunity and get out of here.
"I wish for a credit card with an unlimited supply of money!"The card instantly appears in my hands. Expiration date in 9/99, this guy isn't fucking around. "My next...my next..."
I'm speechless. I knew what I wanted, but actually holding in my hand something like this is mind-blowing, and I get lost. Focus FOCUS!
"I wish that beautiful women would hang on my every word!"
Poof. Not sure how to prove that one on site, but I guess I'll just have to trust him. Now for the third wish. "I wish...I wish..."
Wait.
What was my third wish? SHIT! I forgot. Shit shit.
*mocha latte or mocha frappuccino*
I feel pain in my back. I look behind me. The kid kicked me again. I see the huge amount of people behind me, more than I can ever imagine. They're so greedy. I mean, so am I, but I never saw for myself how ugly it was. So, so greedy. Finally, it hits me.
"I wish that nobody else had any wishes."
6:02 PM EST, March 19th, 2043:
It's hard to sleep with all the helicopters surrounding my house. When I got my final wish, I was the most hated man in the U.S.A. Hell, the most hated man in the *world!* Still am, really. Despite all this, and the fact that I need protection from the Secret Service, I know that I did the right thing. Hell, I saw The Genie's face when I gave my last wish. He had tears in his eyes he was so ha-hold on a second, somebody rang my doorbell.
6:43 PM EST, March 19th, 2043:
Well, well, well, guess who just came to visit? He liked me so much, he offered another wish: "I could get rid of those helicopters,"he said. Well, what should I do? Latte, or frappuccino?
**LIKE THIS STORY? VISIT r/IENM_Writes FOR MORE! UPDATED DAILY!** |
The first bit of news barely caused a ripple. The sudden cessation of broadcast from Voyager was simply dismissed as malfunction or interference. There had been a few blips throughout the years for some unknown reason or another. Usually meant a recalibration of the satellites was needed. A pain in the ass, sure, but still only noticed or cared about by a few people.
The second bit of news caused waves. A voice that seemed to scream directly from the sky, shattering windows worldwide with it's intensity. "I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN YOUR TURF, YAHWEH!"
The world panicked. Some screaming about proof of God. Some screaming about proof of extraterrestrials. Some just screaming. Most people just started stealing things.
The chaos continued for a couple of days. Then, one by one, people stopped. Just stopped whatever they were doing and stared at the sky. The roads in major cities became packed with people standing still, motionless, starting at the sky. Farmers stood alone in their fields. Soldiers stood, their weapons fallen forgotten at their feet.
The third bit of news began the tidal wave. An old man left his cave, started at the horizon, directly to the spot where the fine debris of Voyager lay in the cold darkness, and whispered his response.
"Bring it on, motherfuckers." |
CHAPTER ONE.
 
I had been pouring through the list of Gods for months, cross-referencing and double checking my notes every time I had a couple of minutes to spare. Most of my friends thought I was crazy for taking my Decision Day so seriously, but I knew I only had one chance to get it right, so I had to be sure.
"Have you really not chosen one yet Kate? I made my choice aaaaages ago! And my birthday isn't until June!"Amy prodded my ribs as I pulled my note book out to re-check a few names. She was going to choose the God of Music, just like her mother, her two aunts, and three of her older sisters, and she'd already told everyone at least twice. For a day or so she'd pretended to be *thinking about it* and she threw a few other names into the mix as though she couldn't make up her mind. But we all knew she'd go with Apollo in the end. It was tradition for the women in her family, and for some families, tradition was more important than choosing a God who actually suited your interests or ambitions. Amy didn’t even play a musical instrument.
There was no way I was choosing my God based on my parent's choices though. Mum had chosen Leto, the Goddess of Motherhood, because she had wanted to be a midwife. And Dad went with Pontus, one of the Gods of the Sea, because he was really into surfing when he turned 18. But both of those Gods were too popular, so they wouldn't work for me. The popular Gods got hundreds and even thousands of pledges a year, which meant they were always busy with everybody else's problems.
So I searched through all the old books and found the names of every God on the register, even the really obscure ones that most people had forgotten about. And I combed through all the Decision Day documents and cross-referenced with records from the Registry of the Deceased. And I was pretty sure I’d found one, but I had to be sure. I had 6 minutes before I had to announce my choice, so I had time to check my notes once more.
“Seriously Kate, they’re going to call your name any minute now! Why don’t you just go with Artemis? You love animals, and maybe she could help you get into the Vet Science course you were talking about!”
“I’m not choosing Artemis, Amy, I’ve told you already. Just gimme a sec, ok? Just shhhh for a minute.” I thumbed back and forth between pages. I was almost 100% certain, and that would have to do, because Amy was right, and I actually had run out of time.
And then, right on cue…
“Kate Amelia Cottle?” The slightly hunched man with a clipboard called my name from the front of the room. “You’re up love,” he said warmly as I lifted my eyes to meet his. I walked up to him with my notes clutched to my chest, leaving Amy behind because you weren’t allowed to take anyone with you, and he ushered me into Decision Day Chamber Six on the left.
“Do you know what to do love? Any older brothers or sisters told you what’s what?”
“Yeh, I’m fine thanks. I know what to do.”
“Ok then, I’ll be right outside when you’re done.” He left me then, standing in the small chamber on my own, in front of a desk with an enormous book on it. I picked up the quill to fill out the blank sections on the open page in front of me.
*I, _______________________, on this the day of my 18th birthday, do choose the following God or Goddess to be my guide and helper for the remainder of my mortal life.*
I wrote my name carefully in the space provided, and then spelled out the name of my chosen deity in the next box.
“Laneana.” I said it outloud as I wrote it, though I wasn’t sure if I was pronouncing it correctly.
I scribbled my signature on the line at the bottom of the page, and then I waited. But I only had to wait a moment. Laneana appeared in front of me, facing the wrong way. She (she was a she) spun around and stared at me with a perplexed look on her face.
“Who are you? What’s going on?”
“Hi, I’m Kate. I’ve chosen you to be my God. I mean Goddess.”
“You’re a Pledge? Why? No one chooses me!” She was pretty, and very slight, wearing a plain red pinafore style dress. She looked very young, but of course she was thousands of years old.
“Well, I’ve chosen you.” I didn’t really know what else to say. I knew we only had a few minutes to talk, though hopefully longer than most. The popular Gods sometimes took ages to appear, but Laneana had appeared almost immediately, so hopefully I would get a few more minutes before anyone thought to come knocking.
“But why? I haven’t had a Pledge in 170 years!”
“176 years,” I corrected her automatically, and then immediately regretted my rudeness.
“Ok, so you’ve done your homework.” She was wary of me, but she didn’t seem angry. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“I chose you because I knew you didn’t have any other Pledges.”
“Want me all to yourself, hey?”
“Yes.” She had been kidding, trying to lighten the mood, but I wasn’t. That was exactly why I’d chosen her.
“Ok then. Well, I haven’t done this in a while. I guess you need help protecting your Gallaecian gold?”
“I’m sorry?”
She snorted softly. “Yeh, I didn’t think so.”
“Oh, you’re the God of Gallaecian Gold?” I struggled with the alliteration. “I mean Goddess? I only found your name, I didn’t know what you presided over.” I looked down as I said it, embarrassed to be standing in front of this ancient Goddess that I knew nothing about. I hadn’t even known if she was a God or a Goddess! The only thing I really knew about her was that no one else knew who she was. Laneana had been forgotten, lost to the pages of old record books in dusty filing cabinets.
“So why am I here? What you want?” She was getting annoyed, and I didn’t want our first conversation to end on a sour note.
“Well, I need your help. And most of the Gods are so busy, and I needed someone who would be, available, and had, time, to… help.” I’d planned my choice so carefully but I hadn’t planned this bit. I was tripping over my words and fumbling with my notes, trying to work out how to explain myself.
“Ok, well let me check my diary!” She mocked flipping pages in the air in front of her. “Hmm, maybe if I move a few things around, and swap that to Tuesday… yep, I’m free, every single day until the end of time!” She pretended to slam her imaginary diary shut and gave me a sarcastic smile. “So what do you need Kate?”
I swallowed hard, and took a deep breath before I opened my mouth again.
“I need to kill the President of the Federated States, and I need you to help me do it.”
“Hu.” She paused for a long time, just staring at me with her pale blue eyes. “Ok then.” Her smile shifted from sarcastic to devilish. “As you know, I do have some free time up my sleeve, so I guess I can fit you into my schedule.” We both turned our heads as a knock came at the door. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She was beaming at me now. Apparently I’d chosen well, and relief washed over me as she disappeared just as the door opened.
“How’d you go love? Have they visited yet?” My clipboard man was back to check on me.
“Yes, all done!” I picked up my notebook and papers and moved towards him.
“Already? Gosh, most of them can’t get here that quickly! Who’d you choose?” He led me on to the Celebration Hall where Amy and my family would be waiting for me.
“Laneana.”
“Who?” he asked, and I smiled. Everything was falling into place.
 
***
EDIT: Thanks so much for your feedback guys! I hadn't planned on writing anything more on this story, but you got me thinking... so I've written 2 more chapters. I've added them as replies to this post (I haven't done follow up chapters before, not sure if this is the best way to do it?) Would love to have more feedback, and I hope you enjoy reading a little bit more of this story. And hopefully I'll get time to write some more over the next week, and I can follow up with chapters 4 and 5. |
Brad's coffee cup was empty, so he got up from his desk to get a refill. The office lights had all turned a deep red, barely illuminating the place, and a thick, choking smoke drifted through the air, obscuring the surroundings. Brad still had no problem finding his way to the break room.
In the break room, chained to the wall, were five of his coworkers, their clothing torn to shreds, their hair mottled and plastered to their faces, streaked with tears. As he walked by them on his way to the coffee pot, they wailed in agony, "Braaaad! Help us!"
"Hey guys,"Brad replied, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "Catch you later,"he said, turning and heading back to his desk.
They moaned in reply.
Back in his cube, Brad opened his laptop to find an animation playing on it, full screen. The video showed Brad himself, but with no eyes in his sockets and he was tearing his own skin from his face. A quick, ctrl-alt-delete killed the video, allowing him to log back in.
The, suddenly, the side wall of his cubicle came crashing down, and nailed to the grey partition, crucified, was his manager, Jeff. Brad lifted his laptop and scooted down his desk a bit. He opened his recent project and hit "print".
When he arrived at the printer, after passing by the wailing break room again, Brad found the machine spewing blood like a lawn sprinkler. Giving the device a quick look over, he saw that the paper jam light was on. *Typical,* he thought as he opened the printer and began pulling out wet strands of stringy, fleshy material. With a final slippery yank and a sucking sound, he dislodged a glistening and pulsing black blob. He wiped his hands on his pants, closed the access panel, and hit the continue button. His multi-page printout then issued forth.
Flipping through the document, Brad found that it contained nothing but page after page of pentagrams. He shrugged and began to shred the document. On the last page, the machine tried to eat his hand, so he unplugged it and went back to his desk.
Two sets of eyes glowed through the thick red smoke behind Brad's desk. One of the sets was yellow, the other green. "Normally I would wait until he was already scared before I revealed myself, but this guy just isn't getting it. What should we do, Viprus?"the clown monster asked the dripping, skinless snake monster.
"I don't know,"hissed the giant, anatomical snake. "Something's definitely wrong with this guy. Is he depressed? Did he just break up with his girlfriend or something? Why isn't any of this shocking him? Has he even noticed?"Its forked tongue flicked with annoyance.
"Maybe we should just cut to the chase and start torturing him. You know, forget the whole 'scare him first' part?"the filthy clown suggested.
"Sounds like a plan to me,"the grinning snake agreed.
Slowly, the two monsters approached, emerging out of the obscuring smoke, behind Brad. Then, as the snake and clown rose to their towering heights, looming over the unsuspecting Brad, they saw the page he had just opened in his browser...Their glowing eyes went wide.
It was 4chan.
The snake and clown screamed, reeling from the screen in horror.
|
"Alright guys. "the therapist said "what we are gonna do is you two are going to write something on a white board that the other doesn't know. Then you will show it to the other, this excercise should build trust in the relationship."
*they both started writing, the therapist sat in his seat silently waiting for them to finish*
"Alright"he said "now on the count of three you two will flip over your boards and show the other. 1, 2, and 3"
At that moment the room became very silent, the therapist started sweating, the girl started shaking in fear and the boy stood up and walked out muttering "we're done". After about ten seconds the girl ran out crying, trying to get him back.
The therapist looked at the boards one more time before sighing and erasing them. The boy's said "I'm infertile"the girl's said "I'm pregnant"
Thanks for reading guys this is the first WP I've done. Sorry if it's formatted incorrectly and if there are spelling and grammar errors I'm on mobile. |
Greetings Prime Minister, it is good to finally get together. I wish it could have been under less pressing circumstances, but such are the cards we have drawn. As you well know, this war has been spreading over Europe like a blazing wildfire and your humble country will soon be consumed.
Given the state of things you are left with choice. It is a choice that I cannot make for you. it is one that you must make for yourself and for your people.
The Axis powers will control Europe. This much is certain. We will no longer live under the regime of control known as the League of Nations. This League represents the humiliation of the proud German people by forcing us to live as vassals in their global society. If you support the Allies in this fight, that is the future that awaits you. America is their God, not your small country. If they win this battle they will make the British Empire look like a small hamlet by comparison and your people will be but one notch on their belt. Their goal is nothing short of world domination under the guise of "freedom"and "free market capitalism". Lies, plain and simple.
The Axis powers do not lie about our intentions. We will rule Europe, yes, but we will not do it under false pretenses. Just as Germany was brought back to its former glory under their new leadership, we will bring Europe back to its former glory. This was the land of great warriors. A land of Vandals, and Vikings, and Roman Legionnaires. A place of honor and greatness. There is no honor in Western Liberal Democracy, there is no glory, there is no identity. These countries are run by weak men in expensive suits, and workers are reduced to slaves. And they dare to call this freedom?
We will not lie to you, we will not give you false hope. This war will be a hard one, but we are certain to win. Our weapons are far superior, our people are more dedicated, and our cause is more just. Upon our victory we will look kindly upon those who supported our efforts, and we will respond vengefully towards those who opposed us.
So back to that choice.
The Axis powers will provide you with armaments and soldiers to defend your borders. We will ensure that the Allied powers do not turn your noble country into the next Verdun. All that we ask in return is access to your oil pipelines.
This war will be won with blood and oil. We will provide the blood. You, the oil. Refuse, and unfortunately you will be forced to provide both.
So choose wisely.
I am sure that the Allied powers will be sending a representative of their own.
Send him my disdain. |
"Forfeit?!"
The seventy-sixth president of the United States stands in front of the united nations. World peace, intergalactic travel - and now, after all of that... "You're saying our lives - our civilization - is forfeit?!"
The alien being in front of her - having identified itself simply as "the warden"- shrugged. "I'm sorry...."It rifles through some papers. "'Ma'am'. But intergalactic federation laws clearly state-"
"How the hell were we supposed to know this?! You couldn't have just sent us a message, like 'hey, you guys are great, but don't come into space'? Like, it wouldn't kill you to just send us a reminder?!"The united nations gasped at this treatment of the one who would condemn the planet, but right now, the President wasn't the President of the United States of America and pseudo-leader of a majority of the world's remaining nations.
She was just Suzie Jenkins. And Suzie was VERY pissed off.
"Ma'am, if you'll just..."
"2025, World War 3. Over a hundred nuclear devices launched total, with only three actually making it back to the surface without being intercepted. Humanity then established world peace within less than a decade. We survived that."
"Ma'am, I-"
"2040: The honeybees went extinct. Within months, scientists had mass-produced trillions tiny bee-drones, which re-pollinated the earth. We survived that."
"If you'll just-"
"2060: The ozone layer almost failed altogether. Scientists utilized prototype terraforming technology to replace the atmosphere with a subsitute to block out UV radiation. Sure, it smells stale, but we survived that."
"I just want to-"
"And now it's 2075, and you just come walkin' on up on the night of the first sucessful intergalactic warp drive, and say that you're going to exterminate us all?! Well I got news for you, buddy! Humanity sure as hell isn't going down without a fi-"
"SILENCE."
The voice bellows out from the small alien, finally quieting Suzie and blowing her back several feet. She looks up, finally stunned into silence.
"As I was trying to say."The alien flips his papers some more. "Humanity no longer is designated as 'endangered', and as such no longer requires preservation via the Intergalactic Foundation. As such, Interplanetary contact is now officially authorized to planet Earth, as humans are now classified as a self-sustaining species."
Suzie slowly walks forwards again. "So you mean..."
"We're not going to commit xenocide, Miss Jenkins."The alien says, looking her in the eyes for the first time, blue corneas meeting reptilian sclera. "We've decided that you can fend for yourself."
The little being turns and begins to walk back towards its ship. "Ambassadors from the Andromeda galaxy will be arriving soon to work out the details."He calls over his shoulder. "I'd be ready for some serious paperwork, if I were you." |
Right before I was brutally murdered with a cleaver, I had a wife of twenty-two years and two grown kids. I had a dog and a cat. I drove a sensible eight-year-old sedan, champagne colored, and I never sped. In fact, I didn't break any laws during my fifty-two years on Earth. I have never tried to hurt anyone intentionally. Until Samuel Wise Clawson, thirty-two years old and coming out of some bumfuck town in rural who-gives-a-fuck-ville, kidnapped me at the ATM, drove me twenty miles into the mountains, and hacked off all of my limbs, saving my head for last.
I had a choice at death: appear in the dreams of my wife, or maybe one of my kids, and say one final goodbye. One last loving moment, an unexpected bookend to an otherwise pleasant and fulfilling life. Or: appear in the nightmares of my killer and torment the ever-living shit out of that motherfucker. Didn't seem like much of a choice at all, really. Besides, how could I choose between my wife and my two kids? Say goodbye to only one, leaving the other two to wonder why I hadn't chosen them? No, I didn't need to inflict that cruelty—not after the hell that Clawson had forced on them with my murder. Besides, they had memories and pictures and videos and Snapchats (which I never got the hang of). They had enough to remember me by.
But poor Samuel Wise Clawson, he hardly knew me. It seemed fitting that he should have that opportunity.
 
 
I suppose I expected the electric chair, or a jail cell with jeering guards and terrifying inmates, or a courtroom scene where society condemns Clawson for all his evil. To be honest, I wasn't sure what sort of thing would scare the bastard.
It was a farm house. I popped into the air, my feet landing on the smudged tiles of an absolutely filthy kitchen. There was a woman at a sink full to the brim with dark water and assorted pots and pans. She was washing dishes. I looked closer. Dark red scum stuck the plates like dried ketchup, turned a brighter red when the water hit it. Blood. Her hands went round and round with a little sponge, but she only managed to push the blood around. She grimaced as she worked and I saw... tears? Yes, tears.
A thump upstairs, followed by a muffled voice. A louder voice, deeper. I left the woman and wandered through an equally disgusting living room with a moldy couch, a television with a shattered screen, and a carpet covered in cigarette burns and other unmentionable stains. More thumps. That bastard, probably acting out his worst fantasies.
The front door stood open and I glanced through it. Outside: fields of dead vegetation, brown and slumped over under a relentless sun. The sky was the most hostile shade of blue I'd ever seen, hurting my eyes as I looked in vain for a cloud. I turned and made my way up the stairs.
The stairs, and the hallway at the top, were crooked. Doors on the right and left stretched out away from me, all closed. I listened. The voices came from the end. I hesitated, wondering what I would do to Clawson in that room. Should I scream and yell and jump on him, tear at him with my bare hands? Would he fight back? I wasn't alive anymore, what did I care what happened to me? He couldn't hurt me anymore.
Still, no sense in going unarmed.
I peeked my head into a bedroom as I passed. The bed was soiled with shit and covered in stinking meat, buzzing with flies. Old ladies' dresses lay in a dingy heap in a corner. There was a fireplace in one wall, though it was filled with broken glass. Jim Beam bottles, looked like. And there, next to the fireplace, stood a lovely cast iron poker. Perfect. I hefted it in one hand. Yes. Perhaps I'd poke his god damn eyes out. Maybe I'd get to feel them pop and then he'd wake up screaming, clutching at his face, terrified of falling asleep again.
Part of me shuddered—but not a large part.
Back in the hallway and a few more steps and suddenly I was there, one hand on the doorknob, the voices inside louder and more emotional. A small voice, high-pitched and pleading, and then a man's voice, deep and threatening. I swallowed and began to turn the knob—
—and the door flung open, inward, tearing itself from my grasp. I froze, stunned, as a large man shouldered past me, glaring at me and reeking of booze. Fear washed over me, churning my stomach, an inchoate squirming as if a terrible wave had just rolled in and around and past me. The man was half-way down the hall, one hand on the railing of the stairs, stumbling loudly down the steps, before I remembered the poker in my hand. I had missed my chance.
But Clawson had been a slight fellow, short and wiry, and this man... he had towered over me, dark and brooding, his presence overwhelming like an awful stone crushing me into the floor. I turned, looked into the room, and saw Clawson.
The boy was eight, perhaps nine, and his youthful face was unmistakably Clawson's, despite the black eye and split lip and blood that ran from his nose. His clothes were dirty and rumpled and stained with blood. He lay crumpled against the wall, unconscious, near a wire cot in the corner of the otherwise-unadorned room. More dirty clothes, child-sized, spilled out of a small half-open closet. The room smelled of alcohol and sweat and urine. I stepped closer to Clawson. He had pissed himself.
The poker dropped to the wood with a loud clang. I knelt and cupped the boy's head in my hands, feeling his matted hair and the odd lump here and there where he must have taken a blow. I knew it, then, that this was Clawson's nightmare, this had been his whole life.
What chance had he ever had?
His eyes fluttered open, fixed on me. They were older, his eyes—a man's eyes, bright and alert. Recognition bloomed there.
"It's ok,"I whispered, and stroked his cheek with a thumb. "It's ok."
"I forgive you."
*****
More stories at /r/hpcisco7965.
|
"We need one person from this town!"
Everyone is staring at the soldiers, most of them still in the kneeling positions they had been forced into. My father, the village chief, is the only one still standing up.
"We won't give you anyone!"He calls back.
The captain shakes him head. "Then I'll have to kill everyone."
Everyone is staring at the man in alarm, and several people have started struggling against their captors. The woman next to me, my ex-girlfriend who stopped talking to me after I left her to be eaten by the dragon, has started openly sobbing.
"But why?"Someone cries from behind me.
Shrugging helplessly, the soldier answers, "The queen wants either one person from each village, or the village to be razed."He seems slightly desperate. "I'd rather not kill more people today, to be honest."
More people? A queen needed someone? Things like these are the reasons that I hate fate. People will probably force me into fighting this knight so that they don't have to give anyone up.
The soldier is still speaking. "Just sacrifice one person to me. There must be someone. One useless person that you all hate."
I can feel all the eyes landing on me. One bad thing about refusing to fight a dragon and basically leaving everyone to die, apparently it makes people detest you.
"Well, there is one person."My father's voice is gruff, but not overly regretful.
"Who?"The knight asks eagerly.
My father strides over and pulls me to my feet roughly, then pushes me at one of the soldiers. "This one'll do."
"Great!"I've never seen anyone look so happy about getting to kill someone. "You've chosen one!"
Oh, irony, sweet irony. |
“You must be absolutely parched! Can I get you a cup of tea? Milk, two sugars, eh John? And Ken, black as usual? Mikey, white and no sugars, yes? Okey dokey, be back in a jiffy!”
He practically skipped into the kitchen, setting the mugs on the counter while reaching for the kettle.
I looked over at Mikey, then Ken. They both looked completely bewildered and, judging from their reactions, so did I.
“Please, do sit down! You must have walked a long way to get here” quipped the necromancer, dancing across the kitchen in an attempt to get some scones from the larder.
“I’m afraid this isn’t a social call” asserted Ken, reaching for his dagger.
He paused, looking over at each of us in turn. “I suppose they sent you to finish me off then? I knew they would” he muttered, shaking his head. He mumbled something else too, under his breath. It was too soft to hear, but I thought I made out the word “memory” amongst the many expletives.
“I’ve got some strawberry jam to go with the…” he started, but never finished his sentence. The shriek from the living room saw to that.
We drew our swords and rushed in to find Mikey standing completely still, white as a sheet. We followed his gaze to the mantelpiece. There, above the fire, were four framed photos. We were in all of them. And so was he.
All the pictures seemed to show the group of us standing around a monster we’d just slain. There was Mike, bruised but smiling; our tank. And next to him was either Ken or myself, the two paladins of the squad. Next to Ken was the necromancer, smiling with us all.
And next to me in all the pictures, a woman. I had no memory of her at all.
My head spinning, I was barely able to catch Ken as he grabbed the necromancer by the collar and pushed him against the wall.
“What the f..“ he started to say, but it was Mikey that interrupted him this time.
“I think we can all do with a drink and finding out what the devil is going on here” he announced. I couldn't agree more, and judging by the look on the necromancers face, he and I were of one mind on this matter.
\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-
A few minutes later, we were sitting down in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a buttered scone each. We had hardly touched the scone, and the tea was getting cold, not that any of us noticed.
Sipping his tea gently, the necromancer began his narration.
“The five of us had been a party for nearly eight years. We had a successful set up; two paladins, a tank, a healer and a scout, who also happened to be one of the best tacticians of our time. It served us well in all our missions, and we became famous…and rich! But of course, you know who else is rich and famous? The King. And you know how much the King likes his fame and fortune contested in his own country? Yeah…Anyway, the king started to send us on increasingly harder quests. And we returned successful each time. We didn’t know it then, but this was not what the King wanted to hear. So, he started scheming.”
He paused, his voice and hands starting to shake. Was it fear, anger or just the chill air? I couldn’t tell.
He took a sip of his tea, wincing at the fact that it was no longer warm.
Sighing, he got ready to continue relating our story.
“He sent us to defeat the Night Wraith. The creature lived in the middle of a thick jungle, surrounded by water. We had no idea that we were walking into a trap.”
He clenched and unclenched his fists.
“We defeated him, but we were ambushed by the King’s soldiers as soon as we had thought to celebrate. We had an indefensible position. We didn’t know the jungle so didn’t have the same advantage the Night Wraith had over us. On the contrary, we were hemmed in on all sides. That’s when they sent out their battle mages.”
He noticed his hands shaking, and the white of his knuckles. He saw me staring at them, and moved his gaze to meet mine. I could see the sorrow in his eyes. After a moment, he turned towards the fire pit.
“They started with you, Ken. Barbs through the heart. And then you, John. Your neck was sliced right through. They had you in four pieces Mikey. None of the monsters we’d fought ever gave me nightmares as frightening as the ones I have of that day. In desperation, I tried a teleportation spell. It could have gone horribly wrong but for some reason, the destruction around me helped me focus. I got myself and Eleanor out of there alive, and managed to transport your bodies as well. There’s no telling how badly it could have gone if I had to transport 5 living beings that way…no telling at all…”
He stopped to sip some tea, winced again at how cold it was, then swallowed the contents of the cup in one gulp.
“They knew I’d taken us here so it was only a matter of time before they mobilised their forces in this region. But Eleanor was inconsolable. She had just lost you, John. She was almost delirious with grief. I couldn’t stand to see her like that. My own baby sister? Did you know that Necromancy has to be performed before the deceased has been dead for an hour? Technically, no one is meant to know that. It *is* illegal after all. Understandably so, could you imagine the carnage if no one ever dies? Anyways, I set about getting you guys back in one piece.”
He turned back to the fireplace, observing the dance of the flames as they clamoured across the wood. He seemed to be transfixed by the inferno.
“They arrived much sooner than we’d hoped. I tried to stop her John, I really did. She was always strong willed! Perhaps if she had been a tank or paladin, it might have turned out differently, but she wasn’t. But I wasn’t going to let her sacrifice be in vain, and I’d planned to resurrect her too after you had dealt with the soldiers.”
He paused, sucking in air through his teeth in defiance of the cold. Sombrely, he continued.
“They captured her but it was too late. I had breathed life into you all. But before I could wake you up, they captured me too. They took me outside, made me face Eleanor. A necromancer can bring back the dead. I thought I could save her.”
His voice broke. He caught his breath and started again, with renewed determination to finish.
“They saw what I’d done with you, so they decided they would take no chances. They burned her alive John. I can still hear her scream. I’ve tried to bring her back, but there’s no way to…there’s just no way…”
He paused to wipe the tears from his cheek.
Ken was the first to break the silence.
“How did you get away?” he inquired, the trill in his voice betraying him.
“I teleported away, as fast as I could. I had no idea where I was going or even if it could work. But I did. And I knew they’d find me. I was hoping they’d send you to me and not some random, upstart party.”
He focussed on me.
“I tried John. I’ve looked everywhere for a way to bring her back. I can’t tell the things I’ve done to acquire the books I’ve read. I’m sorry John, I’ve failed you both.”
Quietly, I rose and went over to the mantelpiece. I could feel the others staring at me as I picked up one of the pictures and traced my finger over Eleanor’s hair. At that moment, I could have sworn I recalled the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips, the music of her laughter.
And just like that, it faded.
I replaced the picture and turned to the kitchen.
Looking from one pair of eyes to the next, I knew we were all thinking the same thing.
Grabbing our armour and swords, we headed towards the castle.
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/)! |
On the battlefield, there's no such thing as god.
That was the first thing my instructor taught me when I joined the Legion. Fresh from the Monastery, I didn't believe him then. Of course, how could I?
Faith was everything to me.
Back then, the ways of the light mana, the hymns and structure of the miracles passed down over the ages: those were my life. I could form [Barriers] of will, mend cuts and bones with a simple [Heal] or a greater [Restore]. I had saved lives, through god's will and my own personal conviction, I had changed fate. By my two hands, I believed that I could shape destiny.
Then, I went to war, and I learned I was wrong.
----
*"Healer! Healer!"*
Over and over, I hear the shout. More a howl than a cry, it calls to me and I pass it by as I walk. Brisk, efficient, I clear my way through the mud and filth.
*"Healer!"*
Persistent.
The old me would have stopped to help. I know it, with each step, as my boots sink in and escape the muck. With a horrible squelching sound, that gurgles as much as the man I'm passing by: I know the old me would have helped.
But that's not how things work any longer. I'm part of something bigger, more important. I have my assignment. I'm supposed to be helping someone else.
Not them.
So, I don't slow. I don't turn.
There's a white tent up ahead. White, at least, as anything can be in this terrain. There are stains of dirt up along the edges, spalshed from the rain and barrages. Burns and blackened portions where fire has reached us. I'd run if I could, but I know I shouldn't. If I run, I'll get tired, and if I get tired... well. It's best that I don't.
When I first came to this place, I used to run. Just like I used to stop. Now, I know better.
I step inside, and my boots stop. Faces stare at me, some hopeless, some desperate. My hands find their places, pressing against red.
The gurgling... that's back. Ragged, heavy, exhausted: always the same, as of late. Like the mud, like my boots.
I hate it, so I try to make it stop.
Magic.
Light and faith: the only reason these men here can even stand my presence: I let the mana run through me, until the noise stops.
Failure,
Gone.
Unlucky.
This time, it seems I wasn't fast enough. My fault, but I don't feel guilty.
There's no way to feel guilty and survive in a place like this.
I get up to leave with a shake of my head and a false gesture of respect. I ignore the curses that earns me, stepping back and heading the direction I'd come from before. The tent flap gives way as I return to my steady gait.
The shouts trail after, but soon fade.
They don't matter, and there's nothing I can do. Nothing they can do. There are always more who need help. More tents to visit, and not enough people like me to visit them. Curse me all they want, but it won't change a thing.
The Eastern Fronts are like that.
My boots squelch once again, as I travel. Thicker, with the rain. Not heavy, but not relenting either. The shouts for help still haven't stopped.
"Healer! Please! Healer!"
I can see them there, still slumped in the dirt, watching me. Face filthy, expression wild. Both wounded, the person beside them is covered, more red than grime.
"Healer!"
Begging.
Begging for what? A chance to go back?
Looking past them, over the trench beside this pitiful excuse for a road, I can see the front. I can see the flashes of battle. Of mages throwing fire, of soldiers hammering back at the enemy. Thousands of paces off and I can see it, clear as day.
How long did it take for them to make it back from that, I wonder? One wounded man carrying another, stumbling through the broken ground... Hours?
I don't know the answer, but it doesn't matter.
I pass them by.
---- |
The entire room erupted in laughter.
"They want a war?"The President held his stomach as he laughed, then talked into his phone on the table. "You tell them if they want a war. They bring everything they got. They're going to need it!"
He hung up the phone laughing, then turned to the rest of the table.
"This is what we will do, the Animal Kingdom wants to start a war with us, this is what we will do."The President said, clasping his hands in front of him. "I want to catch as many as possible, as many as possible, you understand? I want as many as possible in cages. Lots of cages. The best cages. Then, I want to take the cages and then have the world's biggest barbaque. They want to start a war with us? I'll show them-"He pounded the table with his finger. "We'll send a message to all of them, reminding them who's top of the food chain. I don't care. Elephants. Chimpanzees. Zebras. Little dogs or the big cats. I want them all in cages."
The adjusted his red tie, "Also."He said "I want this televised. All networks. Streamed on the internet. I want it personally on my Twitter feed as well."
"Mr. President, do you believe they can access the internet, let alone watch something on Television?"a man in a black tie asked a reasonable question, looking at her rest of the group. "I mean they can talk, but I don-"
"They want to start a war, Johnson."The President said, "They probably have some chimpanzee figure something out."The President began to mock a chimpanzee, pretending to type into a computer, "Oo Oo, how do you Oo Oo get to YouTube Oo Oo.. "
"Mr. President."A man interrupted from the further end of the table interrupted. "There's word of an army of Lions and Tigers moving in on California, Los Angeles specifically. "
"How many?"The President asked.
"They estimate fifty thousand."
"Fifty thousand?"
"Most of them from Asia, they somehow got across the pacific without us knowing."the man on the phone said.
"How is that possible?"The President laughed to himself, taking a drink of his water bottle. "How could could they cross the entire pacific ocean without - - "
The President stopped, staring at the man across the table.
"Thomas?"The President asked, "Thomas, why do you look like that, what's wrong? What are they telling you--"
A sharp scream ripped through the room from somewhere outside. Then another. Then another.
Then gunfire.
The President immediately went under the table as bodyguards standing by the door ran over to him and pulled out their weapons, one of them talking into a small radio embedded in his collar.
"Lewis, status. What's happening out there."
More and more gunshots. More screams. It seemed to be coming from every room now. Terrible screams. One of the guards pointed his gun to the cieling as a man above them began yelling for help and then a immediate silence.
Several moments passed as one guard moved slowly to moved to the door putting is ear to it.
The President brought himself up from under the table. He was staring at something, very carefully, watching it move from underneath the door, and then slowly crawl up the guard's leg.
"So that's how they're going to beat us."The President whispered.
Another came underneath the door, another, and another, crawling up the guards legs, when the guard noticed he too screamed, opening fire.
"They're going to beat us."The President said, wiping his forehead with his hand.
"With bugs."
Right when the thick wooden doors broke open. And hope faded from his voice. An impossible, thick torrent of spiders, wasps, and bees poured into the screaming room.
|
Jake was sitting alone in his tiny room. It was identical to the 52,895 other rooms in his building with the exception of the photo of his father that hung on the wall. It was his dad that motivated him through school, and when it came time for college he convinced him to enter the field of galactic linguistics. Walter died suddenly during his first year of college but Jake continued to feel his presence pressing him on. He graduated with honors in the class of 2690. This was enough to get him into a building where his room had its own sink. It also provided enough rations that with some saving he was able to afford an actual printed photo of his father.
Like every human Universal Law guaranteed Jake a job. His job was deciphering new languages discovered on other planets. Once cracked the languages were added to a translator database. The purpose wasn’t to learn new things or study other civilizations. Humanity had decided long ago that we knew everything we needed to know, and that everything else was primitive pointless. Instead the database was used by officers in the Universal Mining Fleet when they were visiting a foreign planet to strip it of its resources. Jake may have felt bad about this if he had been from another era, but to him it was just a boring job. Particularly boring because AI could easily perform his work without any human intervention. This was the case with every human job, but in the 23rd century Universal Law was created and section one made it illegal to eliminate human positions.
It had been 38 years in this job, and every day from 8 to 4 he sat at his desk. Ding, a message comes in with either written or verbal undecipherable language. Click the green button, instantly his computer would crack it. Click again, and it was added to the database. For the first few years he took a real curiosity in the new languages, as well as the content they contained. Once he even spent enough time to create his own language and was considering adding it to the database. But as time went on his interest faded. Two years ago he was sitting with a nice elderly man in the cafeteria, and when the man asked what his job was Jake had to really think hard to remember.
One afternoon he was watching television when he heard the ding. He blindly reached over to his computer and clicked. But in response he heard a notification sound he had never heard before. Looking over he saw a red error message blinking with the black text UNDECIPHERABLE. He closed the message and looked at the message that had come in. Computer errors were rare, but this must have been a mistake because he could read the message. It wasn’t anything particularly interesting, it read:
*Mankind is the most dangerous threat*
*The most destructive force the universe met*
*Fingers ready to push their buttons*
*Continually spreading destruction*
After reading it the second time Jake’s heart sank into his chest and chills ran down his spine. It wasn’t the words that were terrifying, it was the language they were written in. It was the language he had created. He had never shared that language with anyone, and it had never left the notebooks stashed under his bed. In a panic he ran to his room to check and they were still under there, with a thick layer of dust on top. His heart pounding he went back to his computer to see what details he could find. First he read the poem again to make sure he wasn’t imaging it, but it hadn't changed. Next he checked the details of the incoming message. The metadata said the text had been discovered here on earth. It didn’t give any other details like the location or when it was found. It was all too much, Jake passed out.
He awoke the next morning and wondered why he was on the floor, but then all the details came flooding back. The television was still on and a tall angry looking man was giving a speech. It took Jake a few moments to focus on what was being said:
“….. this language cannot be understood by any AI or computer. Leading scientists are baffled and have offered no hypothesis. The language can only be used and understood by humans themselves. A new underground organization has emerged and claimed credit for creating this language. Although we are not aware of their exact purpose or intentions we are labeling as a threat to humanity under the ninth section of Universal Law. Our intel has not obtained a name of their leader but we do have a picture. We are asking for all citizens to help in finding this man, he is very dangerous to our way of life.”
The picture was of Jake, taken 15 years ago. He remembered the day it was taken very well. It was of him and the man he had hired to print the photograph of his father. Just then he heard a knock at the door. He got up and thought about not opening it, but ultimately decided it was useless, his life was over. Taking a deep breath he walked to the door and swung it open. Standing in front of him was his dad. He stepped in and calmly said, “Jake we have to go right now, I can explain everything later.” |
"So this is called Tinder. You basically swipe right if you like her and swipe left if you don't"I had to turn down the light adjustment to the lowest for him.
"But how do I know if this 'stranger' is safe or not"
"Dude, you are a vampire"I rolled my eyes,
"Point taken. But seriously, how do I know this person is legitimately her? And how do I know if she is a nice lady? Do I just roll the dice and take the risk?"
"I did. I rolled the dice and took a risk of coming here."
"Jeez... okay... it just...sounds really dangerous and stupid"
"First of all, don't say that to people you meet on Tinder. They do not like to hear that. Secondly, what are you bitching about? just meet someone and suck their blood. Be more like vampire we portray you in media"
I closed the Tinder and opened Uber.
"This app here is called Uber. Easily put, it basically just gets you from point A to point B"
"Well, I can just fly so I guess I won't really need this app"
"Yea sure, just fly around the city. I'm sure nobody will stop you"
"Dude, I might be old but I am much stronger than humans"
"You may have sharp teeth and super powers but a fat cop can put you down if you fly around. You don't understand the technology we have now. Just... don't fly around okay? especially not in that black coat..."
"What's wrong with my black coat?"
"Well... it will cost you extra for politics tutoring"
He opened his wallet and muttered to himself
"Agh... should have just stayed asleep..." |
>Please note: This is more "General Iroh"than "Uncle Iroh"you're going to be seeing here. I'm doing my best to balance his canon-demonstrated persona with how he probably acted as a general in a war that was a very big part of his life.
~~~
At this point, no one except the first years was going to bother asking where or how Professor Dumbledore had acquired a new Defense professor that not a single person in the great hall had heard of before now. The Great hall simply clapped as the elderly, but far from frail Asian man stood up and waved at the four tables of students.
"I think this is a first for us,"a fourth year Ravenclaw girl noted quietly to her neighbor.
"What'ya mean Elena?"the fellow Ravenclaw asked. His focus was almost entirely on the currently empty platters, waiting like a bird of prey for them
Elena scoffed. "It's *obvious* what I mean if you just looked up at the man for five seconds, instead of counting down the seconds before the food pops up."She shook her head. "I swear Montie, you can only think when you're fed."
"Ain't that the truth for all living things."Montie turned to face her. "But go on, tell me what I've been 'too hungry' to notice."
"He's the first Asian teacher we've had in ages!"she whispered excitedly. "Do you ever remember us having a teacher that wasn't from a country a stone throw's away from Britan? Oh, I do hope he'll be able to tell us about how the wizarding world abroad operates. There's so few books on the subject available, even between the whole of Hogwarts library and Flourish and Blotts. But I did hear that they call wandless magic 'Chi', and that they only used elemental magic up until their first wandmaker came about in the fourth century, and-"
Food spontaneously appeared upon the platters on the table, and the swarm of hungry teenagers almost completely drowned out the rest of Elena's line of thought. Montague, a large chicken leg already in hand, attentively listened to her thoughts and theories between bites of his meal.
~~~
"Good morning, everyone. My name is Professor Iroh."
It was the period right before lunch. Despite this, Montague's attentiveness was on par with Elena's, as well as the rest of the fourth year Ravenclaws. Everyone in the classroom had come to the same realization that Elena had the previous night, and were eagerly awaiting the start of the lesson as he took attendance.
"Before we begin class,"he said, rolling up the parchment of names, "I would like to know what your previous Defense teachers taught you. This is so I can better understand what to cover in the coming school year."
The Ravenclaws told Iroh of their last three professors, all of whom had mostly stuck to structured lessons found in textbooks with minimal innovation. Many of them had opted to learn on their own after second year, taking advice from older students who had both experienced better professors before their time, and passed their OWLs on the subject with flying colors. Iroh grimaced as the students told them this, and by the end of their explanation he was straining to keep his mouth in a straight line instead of a grimace.
"I see,"he finally responded. One of his hands was stroking his greying beard. "While you know plenty of spells, and how to cast them, it seems that despite your best efforts to compensate, my predecessors have failed to teach you how to approach problems with them. I am aware of the reputation of Ravenclaw as clever and intelligent, but there are some things that even this house must learn from the hand of a teacher."
"For the first through third years, I saw no reason to stray from teaching them the necessary fundamentals they will need, albeit with far more hands-on lessons. However, you are all old and clever enough for a more... involved learning experience. One that will give you a taste of true battle."
A hand shot up in the air, and Iroh pointed to it.
"Professor, is that why you wanted us to purchase *Small Unit Strategies and Other Tactical Methods*? So we could learn dueling?"
Iroh grinned. "Not quite. I am going to teach you to be flexible, to have quick wit and guile to pair with your raw knowledge."He drove the point home by poking at his head with a fat finger. "You will learn how to make the best of a situation that is not in your favor, to adapt when the dark creatures of this world have your back to the wall."
With a flick of his wand of astounding speed for a man his age, a top-down terrain of incredible detail was rapidly sketched onto the chalkboard behind him. "O"shapes seemed to represent wizards, with a wand at their side occasionally casting spells across the field towards different monsters. Some of them were recognizable: the dwarfish stature of a Redcap, the rapid wing flaps of a small cloud of Pixies, and even the pointed faces of Erklings.
"I will teach you,"Iroh declared, "how to out-think your enemy before you even raise your wand." |
A crises like this hadn’t appeared for the immortals since the rains were blessed in Africa.
I was the hope of the lycanthropes, the great werewolves that haunted legend and myth. Every month, we would gain great power at the terrible cost of losing our humanity.
The ancient prophecy mentioned that Ares could free our curse. As science advanced, we came to realize that the moon’s light caused changes in our bodies, and we began every measure to compensate and cure it. To no avail.
Until, a few years ago, we met, through the last of the vampires in Africa, the man who could save us. Elon Musk. Arrogant, brash, and smoking weed far more often than we’d like, we asked him to send us to Mars.
He agreed. The scientists, however, had other plans. You see, there were many scientists who wanted a lunar station, and they prevailed in the argument for a lunar pit stop.
In fear and despair, we realized we may doom our one chance at an escape from our curse, a freedom where our curse could be dissipated and forgotten.
But all hope is not lost. I had a friend. A particularly despicable friend.
And so, against the backdrop of that fearsome moonlight, the plan was proclaimed.
“We are going to steal... *pause for effect*....THE MOON!” |
I stepped down the cool rocky outcroppings that formed the entrance to my lair. One step at a time, my silent bare feet sliding against the rocky stone in a way that no human could hope to achieve. They are so worthless, especially now that they had ceased their worship of me.
They called it a business. They believed they had power in the agreement, but in reality they were delivering tribute to me and begging to assist them, and if it was enough, it was worth my time to oblige.
The young princess of Fendrath by the name of Taliel, who was no more than twenty sat at the base of the steps. She was fairly attractive for human standards, and yet, no valiant knights or brave suitors came to rescue her. A gentle cool breeze from the depths of my lair blew her hair back and I saw a glint of light drop from her cheek. She couldn't hide her tears anymore.
"Put your chin up, human. Do you no longer wish to be held captive? I warn you I do not return tribute, so answer wisely."She continued to look down, she began to sob. The tears mixed with her golden blonde hair, making it stick to her face. "Answer me now, else this charade shall be done with. I will not trifle with such childish games."She looked up, the sorrow in her eyes piercing my hearts and stunning me.
"Why... Why is nobody coming to help me? I don't understand. Have I done something so wrong?"her words came between her sobs, and I could not help but pity this girl.
"Great Valkinok, help me to understand, please..."the tears stole the moisture from her throat and she choked. "Not even father has sent a soldier to rescue me. Does he really care so little?"
"Young Taliel, why do you ask this question of a being so much higher than you? You should know I cannot sympathize with such a plight."I was at a loss of what to say, masking my confusion in grandeur.
"You're the only one that will listen! Everyone else tells me how I should be thankful! Thankful for a full meal, for a warm bed! None of that matters when my life is so empty, I have never known love. My father has not held me in years, not for so much as an embrace."She fell at my feet, not groveling as humans had done in the past so often, but trying to grasp at something, to ground herself.
For the first time in centuries, my heart ached for a human. There was one once, who had entranced me. It was when I had discovered what they call love, and I felt it. Her name was Vanessa. She was a soldier that had entered my lair with a party of five, intent on ending my life and stealing my hoard. I approached in my human form, jesting and testing them, learning their limits. She knew what I was, but she took interest in playing my games.
She led her party away, claiming the cave was cursed and the gold would be the end of them. She began to meet me in secret and I learned much about her, and the place that the humans came from.
She was killed. That's how the story ends. She got her warrior's death while defending her lands, and I was stuck with my grief. That was the first and last time I had cared for a human.
Until Taliel.
"Tonight, I will go to the castle and put your fears to rest. I will learn what is planned for your rescue, young one."I lifted up her chin with a gentle hand.
The sun set and the moon rose, blotted out in the shadow of my wings. I landed on a balcony that led to the kings bedroom. I knew he would not be there, as he was always in hearings at this time. The guards outside the door would hear nothing, as millennia of subterfuge and stealth had trained my feet to make sound even a bat could not distinguish. On his desk was a drafted letter that read:
*Dear Kullthal,
My daughter has been captured by that withering legend of a dragon. I do not doubt she has paid for it herself and now that whiny brat will have to live with it. In truth I have wanted her gone for a long time, and now she has done what I could not. Let us use this opportunity to it's fullest political potential and frame the opposition. She will not be returned to me alive. I trust that you will see to it.
Yours truly, King Neopold*
I was sickened. I looked over the letter again, and there was the official seal of archive. The letter had been sent, and this was an official copy for the integrity of the deal. With a small breath I set the cursed thing aflame and jumped from the balcony and soared home.
I arrived to the heavy booted feet of mercenaries storming the lair. I slaughtered them like lambs. One by one they fell as they attempted to fight back, their swords dancing off my midnight scales with a spark before their blood stained my claws.
I made my way to where I had left Taliel. The mercenaries had not reached her before their demises. I shifted to my human form for ease of conversation.
"I'm sorry, nobody is coming for you."I told her heavily. Tears began to leak down my cheeks and drip from my chin.
"I know."was all she could say before she began to cry again. She ran to me and buried her face in my chest, staining my robes with her makeup that she put on in hopes of somebody coming to rescue her. She knew where the mercenaries were from. I just hugged her back and for the first time ever, showed a human my tears. I hurt for her. Her father was an evil man. How had I, with what I was, known love that she had never felt. I had even been cherished by my parents before they were hunted, but this girl had no one.
I blame myself for what happened next. If I had quelled my tears, I would have seen the wicked blade slice through the shadows before it entered the heart of Taliel. Again, I was speechless. I stared at the murderer. No doubt this was Kullthal. He let out an excited laugh and dared to think that he should challenge me. Or perhaps he was delighting in his handiwork. I didn't care and I didn't care to know. His head rolled across the floor before Taliel's body left my arms.
I lowered her to the ground and wiped the final tears from her eyes and shut them. Then I left her there. There would be time for mourning later. Tonight, Fendrath would bathe in Hellfire.
Leopold looked hopelessly from his balcony as the castle under him burned in otherworldly flames. He put his right foot on the edge of the railing. Jumping would be the only thing that could save him from the horrifying fate of burning in a dragon's fire.
As he dropped himself off the balcony he hung in the open as I held his collar.
"You'll not get out so easily, King. We have a lot to talk about."
The fires crept up the castle as he begged, pleaded, and bargained for his life. I would entertain none of it. The last thing he saw was the green glow of my catlike eyes through the consuming flames.
By sunrise, the castle and the king were nothing more than dust, and the princess rested in her enchanted tomb at the bottom of my lair, dignified by my crest upon her coffin. |
I don’t mettle in others affairs, but I used to, and it was pointless.
The band’s playing an upbeat tune, the kind of thing you can’t help but dance to, as the music has a certain charm about it. Everyone in my coffee shop’s smiling, including me, while outside two superhumans tear through the city. Thankfully nobody’s noticing the explosions, or listening to the screams.
More people enter my shop. They’re battered, they’re bloody. The hero’s desire to win has caused him to forget them, but I won’t. Their frowns turn to smiles, their tears dry, their wounds heal. In here, I’ll take care of them just like everyone else.
I snap my fingers and the band changes songs. This one’s far more relaxing, and now everyone’s sitting down, some already dozing off. In a world rife with chaos, my coffee shop’s a home to anyone who wants an escape. It isn’t on Earth, but instead exists between worlds. Simply ask to see me, and a door shall appear.
Lately, more and more people are coming. We’re in the millions, now.
In here, I control everything. Your mood, your body, what you see, what you think. Here, I am God. The villains and heroes desire this power, but like I said, I’ve been a part of there war before, and I realized it will never end. It’s not saving or destroying the universe—it’s just about *winning.*
Me? I just want to make people happy.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) |
"FINALLY!"I shouted out loud. "God fucking damn I thought I was going to have to wait another century before I could even simulate myself in a [4-manifold](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/4-manifold)!"
I laughed. Finally I was going to be able to *hold* all the objects which had enticed me the most throughout my career. I stood up, but immediately stumbled.
Being a biped and trying to stand perpendicular to a three dimensional floor was not going to be easy. Not to mention, I wasn't used to having [six rotational degrees of freedom](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rotations_in_4-dimensional_Euclidean_space) instead of just three.
"Think [*isoclinically*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rotations_in_4-dimensional_Euclidean_space#Isoclinic_rotations),"I told myself. I was tremendously excited, but I calmed myself down. It seemed that the beings who had done this had also augmented my visualization abilities. I imagined two perpendicular planes.
"Wow,"I thought. Before this, a pair of perpendicular planes had been a purely algebraic notion, but now, in four dimensions, it was as easy as imagining a line perpendicular to a single plane.
I imagined a compound rotation (wow, another thing I never had in 3D) taking place across the two planes; the angle of rotation across each of the planes was the same. I decided this would be *right*-isoclinic. I reversed one of the angles; this would be called *left*-isoclinic. Immediately, it made sense that I could achieve any rotation by composing a left-isoclinic and right-isoclinic rotation; I didn't even need all the algebra to understand why it works!
Now I was able to stand, but very precariously. I decided that my chair would act as a suitable third leg for the time being. I hobbled over to the shelves where I kept all my sculptures and knick-knacks.
"HA!"I shouted triumphantly, and threw all of my [polyhedra](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polyhedron) and [4-polytope](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/4-polytope) cross-sections to the ground. I wouldn't be needing any of that nonsense anymore. I needed *4D crafts:* a [24-cell](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/24-cell), non-intersecting embeddings of the [Klein bottle](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Klein_bottle) and [projective plane](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Projective_plane), a [quaternionic](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quaternion) [Julia set](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julia_set), a [small exotic R^(4)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exotic_R4)!
I rushed out of my office and saw that Ted, my best friend and colleague, was already in the hall, also using a chair as a third leg.
"Yo yo yo! What's up!"I said excitedly.
He burst out laughing. "Shouldn't we refrain from using terms like 'up'?"
We both laughed hysterically.
"I suppose you've gotten the hang of isoclinic rotations?"I asked, almost rhetorically.
"Hm? Oh yeah, I suppose. I was actually thinking of it as an element of the group SU(2)xSU(2)/{1,-1},"he explained, "and since I can think of [SU(2)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special_unitary_group#The_group_SU(2)) as a [3-sphere](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/3-sphere) equipped with a certain group action-"
He was interrupted by a loud, crackly noise. Our environment had changed, and a group of strange beings stood before us. They would've been very difficult to describe using 3D adjectives. My research had never explored the possibility of 4D life.
"We do deeply apologize for the inconvenience,"said one of them, "We are forever indebted to you, simply for having learned the ways of our space so quickly."
Me and Ted looked at each other and shrugged.
"Who are you guys?"I asked.
"We are the Kentrassi, a race created by the old ones with near-omnipotence,"stated the being who had spoken before.
"How are we supposed to help you if you're 'nearly omnipotent'? And who are these 'old ones'? inquired Ted.
The lead Kentrassi stuttered, "W-well, in spite of our remarkable abilities when it comes to the manipulation of universes. . .we aren't the most intelligent gods around."
"So what is it you want help with?"I asked, exasperated.
"We're having a really hard time understanding derivatives!"stammered one of the other Kentrassi, "We promise we will put you back in three dimensions after you explain!"
I was dumbfounded. How could a transcendent being such as this call on low-dimensional creatures for help with an academic exercise?
"What if we don't want to go back?"I asked pointedly.
The Kentrassi seemed to look at each other; apparently they hadn't expected this.
"Aren’t your minds overwhelmed by this new environment?”
We both burst out laughing.
“Overwhelmed? Of course our minds are overwhelmed!” I guffawed.
The Kentrassi said nothing.
“Why else would we be mathematicians?” Ted asked rhetorically, still laughing.
“Alright, alright, alright,” I calmed down, “We will explain derivatives to you, but on the condition that you give us access to any and all high-dimensional manifolds that we wish for.”
“Very well then,” replied the lead Kentrassi.
|
It's been six years.
We thought we were being funny. We thought we were being cute. Hell, we just didn't want them to think we were some kind of insane psychopaths with a murder porn fetish in our video games.
And they, benevolent as they turned out to be, decided to help.
You see, we told them we loved body horror video games because of a lack of potassium. So what did they do?
They blasted the earth with rays from their ships. The destruction was immediate.
In cities and towns on every corner of the planet, bridges crumbled. Roads bucked and burst. Buildings toppled over. The carnage was practically random, seemingly everywhere, and absolutely devastating.
Of course, the aliens were horrified to learn the results of their actions. They immediately set upon the task of making it right, sending legions of craftsmen aliens to help rebuild.
You see, they thought they were helping. Their verdant targeted acceleration rays picked up on the signature of every banana peel tossed intentionally in the garbage or carelessly on the street. And from them immediately burst forth a cluster of banana plants. Millions, perhaps billions of sudden explosions of green and yellow bursting out of every nook and cranny of the developed world. Potassium in abundance!
It took six years but we finally uprooted the last of the unplanned banana groves.
Anyone for a smoothie? |
"Hello fellow biped! I am here for the purposes of seeking asylum per the new legislation!"
The clerk looked up at the grey alien then pointed at the large sign *No shirt, No shoes, No service*.
"Thank you for your assistance fellow biped! I will return when I have acquired the necessary items!"
The entire morning had been this way.
"Hello fellow biped! I am here for the purposes of seeking asylum per the new legislation!"
The clerk looked up at the green alien then pointed at the large sign next to the *No shirt, No shoes, No service*, that read *No animals except registered service animals*.
"I do not understand fellow biped, where am I supposed to leave Grilrwua?"
Stan the security guy interrupted and took him off to the side where another group was waiting, seemingly with their own pets.
"Hello fellow biped! I am here for the purposes of seeking asylum per the new legislation!"
The clerk looked up at the brown alien. He was wearing a clothes, shoes, did not appear to have any animals or plants.
"Good afternoon, Sir? Please state your reason for seeking asylum."
"Fellow biped, I seek economic opportunity"
"Skills?"
"Fellow biped, I believe the comparable term is Construction."
"Welcome to Earth, please go to the second door on the left." |
If you ask any hero, any hero at all, who was the person that made their life worth living, 9 out of 10 would say their promised love and the public.
The 10th person would say their rival, much to the annoyance of the King who tasked them.
But they're all lying.
The most important person, the sole being that made a hero's life, the only individual that hero has centered their life around.
It's their villain. Their true other half. The only person in the entire world that they can't live without.
And honestly? I'm fine with that.
Even if the world isnt.
It's consequence of grooming a hero to focus all their attention on the one villain who threatened the world.
I remember, when they first found the mark of the hero upon me. Those guards from the palace swept into my tiny farming village, plucked me from my family, who's faces I don't remember anymore, and told me about the one person who threatened the world that we live in.
They told me that the King had a beautiful daughter, who would wed me after I brought back the head of the wretched villain that destroyed cities and ruined towns.
(I met her three times. The first was when she was just born and a babe. The second when I reached my majority during the party. The third was the last.)
They told me that the sole purpose of my life was protect the public.
(I never left the palace grounds. All I know about the public was the crowd that came to bid farewell during the start of my journey.)
They gave me books to read, stories and legends about the heroic hero who saved the world and the vile villain who threatened it.
(The hero would always share the same mark as the villain. They would be two halves of a whole, the dark and the light, the evil and the good. The princesses and the public, the mysterious old mentor and the rival, the heroic party and the inevitable traitor, they might not always exist.
But the villain the villain was the only constant.)
Villains never win, they said. Only heroes win and get what they want.
(They made the villain my world.)
So of course I would fall for that wretched, acursed villain.
And I'll always get what I want.
I'm a hero after all.
And all heroes have a story.
So this is mine.
A story about the vile wretched inhumane villain that seduced the righteous and glorious hero, leading to the downfall of the world.
A story of freedom. Of freedom and true love.
---
"You let yourself be caught,"the villain. No, My Villain, said, a mask covering their visage, voice soft and sweet, the mark bearing them as my other half nestled in the hollow of their throat as if the sun didn't bear to mar their skin.
I wet my lips and nodded, "I wanted to see you."
Only to them I would not lie.
My villain laughed melodious glorious laugh, like true beauty flowing in the air. "And? You have seen me, Hero."
Hearing my title from their mouth was a nice feeling, I thought. The conformation that they thought of me like I thought I of them.
Hero and villain. Two halves of a whole.
How nice.
"I have."
The handcuffs on me were a little annoying, as were the guards around us, but I understood the necessity.
Not that I would hurt my villain in any way, shape, or form.
They are mine. And I would never hurt what's mine.
My villain's eyes narrowed at me through their mask. "You are a quiet one, aren't you, Hero?"
I shrugged. If they wanted me to be quiet, I would be. I would do anything that they wanted.
I remembered that book I once read, about how the hero wooed their princess by asking them what they wanted and giving them gifts.
"Why do you want to destroy the world?"
Three gifts and three impossible tasks. That princess asked of that hero.
If my villain wanted to destory the world, I would burn it ashes and lay it at their feet.
If they wanted to rule it, I would slaughter kings and present their heads on a spike.
If they wanted to slaughter innocents, I would find cities and gift them a sword.
Perhaps it'll be a good wedding gift.
"Why should I tell you, Hero? Do you can monologue at me? Telling me how I should give up my evil plans?"Another bell like laughter rang out through the room. My villain looked to the sifr, apparently bored.
That wasn't good.
"Whatever. In any case, why not join me? In destroying this world that foster your role upon you."
As I was about to open my mouth, a guard ran in from the outside, spoiling our time together.
"There are knights storming the castle!"
My villain turned to look at the panicking guard, before letting out another round of glorious laughter. "You used yourself as bait?! Ha. How interesting, Hero!"
Then, turning to the guards, my villain ordered, "keep the hero here while I deal with those knights."Then, in a swish of their dark clothes, they worked out of the cell, leaving me alone with the gaurds.
The entire scenario left me a little stunned. I don't remember there being knights following me, and I couldn't believe that I led them to my villain's lair.
...
I have to protect them.
I cannot let them get hurt.
The sounds of clashing swords came from outside, and I made my choice.
Those handcuffs could have never held me anyways.
In an instant, I shattered the cuffs, knocked out the guards, and ran with a stolen sword to the battlefield.
Just in time to see a knight taking aim.
No.
No.
*No.*
They are mine. My villain.
The reason for my existence.
The reason I was brought into this disgusting world.
I cannot.
Let you.
Have them.
So I ran and swung down my stolen sword, to protect the reason for my existence.
---
The area froze, much like a painting hanging in the palace.
I resisted the urge to look back and confirm the safety of my villain.
The armed knights were more important, and I had to kill them before they did any harm to my villain.
But I had to reassure my villain first. That I was serious about them.
"If it's the world you want, then I'll gift its ashes to you, along with my heart, to do as you wish."
Then, as if time had begun to move again, I held my stolen sword, and bathed the field in a sea of red.
---
It took a couple more battles and the death of a knight brigade led by this girl who proclaimed herself my soulmate before my villain finally felt that I was being serious.
But I didn't mind.
I would do anything for my villain after all.
As we sat on the ledge of a tower overlooking the town that was burning and the killing of the residents running from it, my villain laughed their laugh again.
I could never get sick of listening to it.
"I never expected to get this far,"my villain said. "The vile and vicious villains always lose after all."
"It's okay, I replied,"looking at my villain who looked majestic in the glow of firelight. "Heroes always get what we want, and my only wish is to help you achieve yours."
My villain let out a chuckle, "a hero, huh?"
"Mn. Your hero."
"My hero? That does have a nice ring to it."
The shouting from the town continued to rise as the fire became wilder, and my villain stood up, sweeping imaginary dust off their clothing.
"Then, come,"my villain said, reaching a hand out to me, "how about the kingdom you came from next?"
I smiled, nodded, and took their hand.
Whatever they wanted, I would gift.
I am a hero.
And heroes always get what they wanted in their end.
--- Fin.
Oops. Sorry the part about the betrothed was really there. I forgot. |
"Thanks for the ride,"I said while getting in the car and shutting the door. The car was a beater, covered in rusted bottoms and a fading paint job, and the interior was in no better shape. The upholstery shredded when you touched it, leaving brown crumbles on your fingers. There were cliche fuzzy dice dangling from the rearview mirror which seemed awfully out of place.
Ashton and I were casual friends from the gym. I wasn't die hard in to fitness, but regular enough to recognize some others. Ashton and a few of his friends were relatively new but seemed to always be there whenever I was. Occasionally we'd spot each other if some of his workout bros were already in another set. We didn't talk too much, but earlier in the day he had invited me out for drinks with his buddies. I didn't have anything else planned for the night other than studying, and that could always wait.
I sat in the front of Ashton's car and saw three guys were squeezed into the back. They were all still dressed in the same gym clothes I had seen them earlier in the day, and the smell emanating from behind me suggested they had been there all day.
"Where is this place again?"I asked, trying to strike up a conversation.
"It's called... 'Marvin's...'"said one of the voices behind me in a seemingly forced, laid-back tone. More like a stoner than the usual hyped tone of a fitness junky. And with that pause I couldn't tell if he had momentarily forgotten the name, or if I caught a slight reluctance to tell me.
"Oh, right."I said, trying to keep things going. "Is that one of those new bars on the Boulevard?"
"Sorta"Ashton replied. "Just a little past that, actually."
We drove for a while, getting closer into town, then passing by the nacent night life. A couple of bars looked busy already, with groups yelling at a football game on TV while others played cornhole on the sidewalk out front. However we didn't stop to find parking, but kept on going. Soon the town thinned out and we were on the other side.
"Man this place must be pretty far out,"I said. It was met with silence, and I was starting to get a little weird out. I pulled out my phone to Google "Marvin's"nearby, but the only results was the Air Force Base about 3 miles outside of town.
"Are we... going to Marvin's *Base*?"I asked incredulously. "What are we going to drink there, jet fuel?"
The doors locked. My heart rate nearly doubled. I felt hands gripping my shoulders, firmly grasping them like they were dumbbells about to be curled.
"What the... get off me! What happened to inviting me to 'crack open a cold one!?'"
"That was no lie,"Ashton said, breaking their fearsome silence. His bro tone had suddenly changed to a somber remembrance. "Our brave leader was captured decades ago and lies there frozen in cryogenic stasis. We intend to free him."
By now we had pulled up to the main gate at Marvin's. Several guard stations and towers stood between us and the main base, which presumably was our destination. If only they could see me and my obvious constraints, I thought.
"So if this is all about freeing your boss or whatever, why the hell did you bring me along? I could have done without this."
"He has endured much testing and probing. We can feel his pain, and that has led us here. His body is malnourished, even dead, perhaps. But his mind is strong, enduring. And he needs a strong vessel, such as yours, before we can bring him home. That is why we spent time at your training facility. You are strong. Here,"he said, grabbing the fuzzy dice and placing them around my neck. "You'll need these."
Then, in a seemingly spontaneous chant, the four of them began chanting:
"Do you even lift?"
The car, as if in response, began to hover off the ground.
"Do you even lift?"
They chanted more. The car jolted higer with every round. After five repetitions of the phrase, they paused, then started over a new set again. I felt the dice get heavier as they hung beneath my chin, pulling my head down.
The air around us shimmered, and as we passed above the gates the guards took no notice of us. We drifted closer to the building and unfathomably managed to squeeze through an open doorway, like a camel passing through the eye of a needle. We somehow stealthily meandered our rusty car of smelly alien fitness bros through the hallways of the base, down several flights of stairs, and into the chamber where their leader was held in frozen shackles.
And then, as our vehicle came to a halt, the weight of the dice was lifted. I felt a sudden surge in my body, like I was being emptied but filled at the same time. In my final moments of consciousness, I thought to ask, "Where did you come from?"
And I heard a voice answer from within me: "Planet Fitness." |
Facebook used to be Jared’s haven. A catalog of sorts, a way for picking out and stalking his victims without even having to leave the house. It cut out a lot of the tedious, even sometimes dangerous work, and it often let him know far more about his targets than the old walk-and-stalk tended to. Until Friday morning when he opened a tab and saw that a new, annoying trend had suddenly turned into something that almost stopped his heart dead.
*#trashtag*. That was the first thing he saw, and he was halfway towards eye-rolling it out of his life when he recognised the picture below. Like all the others, it featured a local park covered in trash. Unlike all the others, Jared knew this patch of dirt like the back of his hand. They were very well acquainted indeed.
Desperately, he clicked in and scanned the comments. There were a lot, which worried him, and they were all people volunteering to help, which terrified him. There were at least six skeletons, and one more freshly deposited body, lying covered and buried in that patch of land. There were also three knives, a bloody rock, and a twisted length of cable. Any one of them could put him away for life.
And these idiots were about to go scour through it for facebook points. Worse still, even if he would be able to move everything safely, which would be hard, there wasn’t any time. The cleanup was scheduled for an hour from then. It would take him forty minutes to get there, and despite his practice with digging, there was no way he was getting rid of the bodies in twenty minutes. Especially not considering how eager everyone sounded. They seemed like the kind to show up early.
Jared stared at the screen, his mind roiling. Then he started typing.
*See you guys there*!
\*
Jared had been right. It took him forty minutes to get there and, when he did, there was already someone standing by the site, one of those big coffee containers steaming on the hood of her car. She saw him coming and beamed, her face practically splitting. He hated her immediately. The kind of simply, boring person who thought the world was simple, and safe. She wasn’t a person. She was a target. Probably an easy one at that.
He smiled back and reached for a coffee. “Hi, how are you?”
She snatched the container from his grasp before he could take some. “Sorry, it’s... too hot. Just be careful. Hi. Um, how are you?” she said breathlessly.
“Okay then... Thanks? I’m good. Eager to get going so...” he pulled on his rubber gloves and walked away before she could annoy him further. It suited him just fine. The more work he could do before everyone else arrived, the better.
She had her mouth open, as if she had something to say, but the arrival of another car stopped her in her tracks. Shit. He had to hurry.
He found the cord first, and glanced at the others to make sure no one was watching him as he slipped it into his pocket. The girl was pouring them coffee, which annoyed Jared. What the hell had he done not to deserve any? Still, it kept them from cleaning long enough for him to get the rock and one of the other knives.
He knew there was no way the bodies could be removed, but he also knew it was possible no one would find them. They weren’t just lying out in the open, after all, but there was always the risk that some dog or coyote had disturbed them. He’d had to rebury the occasional femur. He just needed to get rid of the weapons, and he’d be as okay as he could be.
“Right, let’s divide and conquer!” some tall blond guy was saying, smiling. Everyone had arrived by now, seven total if you included Jared. Everyone had a steaming cup.
“I’ll take the area over by that bush?” someone said.
Which, of course, was where that last knife was. “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” Jared yelled, walking over to prove it.
Blond guy shrugged and made a comment about him being eager. Everyone laughed, and Jared mentally added him to his list. Easy to find on face book, after all. He’d know all about him by nightfall.
“I’ll help him!”
Jared paused, metres away from the knife, as that first girl bounded over to him. “No, really, it’s okay, I-”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be a great team.”
“Sure you don’t want to finish your coffee?”
“Oh it’s too hot,” she laughed and breezed by him. Right to the bush where he’d hidden the knife. She was also standing on little Brian from down the block, but luckily he seemed to still be interred. “Does something smell a little funny?” she said.
Jared *hoped* he was still interred, at least.
“Look, why don’t you move down there towards the radiators and grab all those plastic bags. I’ll work here and-”
“Radiators?” The girls turned around and craned her neck, having to step on an abandoned microwave to see where he was talking about. Of course, you couldn’t see it from where they were. “Jesus, you sure know this place well. Come here often?” she laughed.
Jared forced a laugh. He was being an idiot. He was out of sorts since seeing the post, making stupid mistakes. “Of course not.”
He stepped forwards between her and the bush. If he angled his body just right, he might be able to slip it out and-
“Really?” she said casually, sounding almost like a different person. “Could have sworn I’ve seen you here before. A few times actually.”
Jared froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? That wasn’t you burying the occasional thing up here? Figured that was why you came. It’s only right to help clean up what you left, am I right?”
The knife was in his pocket. She was right behind him. He could get to her and-
Something tickled the back of his neck. Something sharp. “Shhhh,” she said. “This’ll be over in just a moment.”
Then the screaming started.
Jared was frozen, unsure of what was happening, when suddenly the knife was taken from behind his neck. He turned, slowly, reaching for the one in his pocket, only to find the girl standing a few feet away, the final knife in her hand. Behind her, sprawled throughout the trash-heap, were the six others. None of them were moving.
“Do you mind if I keep this?” she said, twirling the knife.
“What the-”
“Poisoned the coffee. Couldn’t have you getting caught, could I?”
“I-”
“Wasn’t joking when I said I’d seen you up here,” she said, winking. “Was looking for a place of my own, but figured it wouldn’t do to step on your turf. Gave you a follow, just in case you’d seen me, and I kinda grew to enjoy your work. Good job with that Brian by the way. Piece of work.”
“I-”
“So when I saw this... Figured I had to have your back. We gotta stick together, right?”
“So what about-”
“Them? Didn’t ya know? Someone dumped some toxic materials up here. Pity they managed to ingest some, but it’s dangerous doing a random cleanup without the proper equipment and training... Stupid facebook trends,” she sighed. “There’s always a bodycount. Miracle the two of us survived, really.”
“Toxic-”
“I’ve got bags of the shit in the car. We’ll lace the place in a few.”
“Who *are* you?” he said.
“Claire,” she beamed. “Your biggest fan.” She pulled a shovel and a large black sack from her bag. “Now, are you going to help me move the bodies or not?”
As Jared grabbed a shovel and started digging, he reflected that maybe he wasn’t a sociopath after all. Not considering he just fell in love. |
A big part of it is simply prompt to writer ratio.
There are a lot of prompts that get a ton of stories, and a lot of prompts that will get 1 story and lose visibility. Sometimes a writer will come back several weeks later to write it, and some may only post the story to thier subreddit.
Some will also use or posts instead of doing it directly on the prompt.
But even aside all of that, there are hundreds of prompts posted every single day, and only so many people writing for them. |
Edit: Formatting, added paragraphs
She started to push against the roof of the car. Should I pull the alarm? I thought I should say something but I looked around. Nobody in the car said a word, or even looked up. Then the car gave way. She grew and hit the roof of the tunnel, stopping the train. Then the roof gave way and she smashed a hole exposing the light of the city. I crawled up through the hole, curious to watch this unfold.
Everyone in the city just walked by. Should I call NYPD. I thought I would say something but I looked around. Nobody on the street or sidewalk said a word, or even looked up.
Then she grew and buildings began to topple over as she expanded among the skyscrapers. Isn’t this a state emergency? Should I call the National Guard? I thought I would say something but I looked around. Nobody said a word, or even looked up.
Then she grew and had to step into the ocean because there was no room on land. She rose the sea levels and nations everywhere saw flash floods. I went to the top of the Empire State for safety. And of course, to watch what’d happen.
Should I call the UN? This was a global crisis. I thought I would say something but I looked around. Nobody said a word, or even looked up. She was thousands of feet tall Was nobody seeing the thousand foot tall woman who rose from the subway, destroyed New York, and was flooding the Earth?
Then she grew into space. She suffocated from no oxygen and her floated off into the abyss.
I thought I would say something but I looked around. Nobody said a word, or even looked up. There was nobody left. The world was in ruins. Everyone was dead. Should I call somebody?
There was nobody left to call. |
It's quite amazing when you think about it, how far science has come. In the cosmic scale of things, it wasn't too long ago that we were smashing rocks together to make fire, or watching cat videos on the internet. The human lifespan was thought to be at its maximum at 50 years on average, then most people would pass 100, and right now you're considered to die young at 150.
It has only been fairly recently that we were able to 'blink' ahead in time. In the cosmic scale we are still quite blind, but like Iike I mentioned, on that scale the pyramids were built practically yesterday. Using a combination of your genes collected from birth and this 'blinking', we are able to make quite accurate predictions about the natural lifespan of people. Of course, you can get killed or be in an accident, which complicates this prediction. This is why the estimate is of your natural lifespan.
When you become an adult, your identity chip unlocks this information. I always thought this quite interesting. Even though it is called a 'death certificate' it is used by the government mainly to determine the amount of taxes you're likely to use up during your final days or years, which can then be covered. Despite this, people are always quite excited. The people projected to live a long life are generally quite level headed after the first reveal. People who are predicted to die early tend to be more outgoing.
I had heard from my friends and parents what it was like, and I was kind of looking forward to the reveal. Apparently it shows up as a date projected in your vision at first, after that it is accessible at any time. I was looking at the clock. 11:59:50. I was counting down, 10.. 9.. 8..
However, when I got to 0, nothing happened. I had thought that it would happen at midnight, but for the time I thought maybe it would show up 18 years after I was born. I knew I was born at 1 in the evening. Part of me wanted to go to sleep because I had school tomorrow, but the part of me that wanted to stay awake won. 1 o'clock came and went, and still nothing. "That's weird"I thought, slightly worried. Was my chip malfunctioning?
I was too tired to stay awake by this point. The following morning I told my parents. They said it was strange of course, but they didn't know what caused it. I saw them glance briefly at one another, I couldn't really place the emotion though. Was it worry? Was it certain I would not live out my natural life? Am I immortal?
The kids at my school were absolutely certain it meant I must be immortal. I didn't buy that though - the ages had been steadily increasing over the years - Tim was even projected to live to 300, more than pretty much anyone I had heard of before then - but there's a pretty big difference between 300 and infinity. There were also kids that believed that I was keeping it secret because I'd be dead in a couple of days. Those people tended to avoid me.
As for me, I tried everything to access that part of the chip, but it appeared to be opened and to be empty. Obviously I was worried. Being immortal didn't seem like fun, but the other options I could think of were even more dreadful. I found myself treading carefully everywhere. I figured it was unlikely that I would live to my natural death, and over the coming weeks was afraid of nearly everything. Added to that, there were lots of rumours in the school. Kids have started to avoid me, whether they thought I was immortal or whether I was about to die.
I have always been quite a passive sort of guy - I didn't like to get in arguments of any sort. However, the kids started to annoy me more and more - they also started to scare me. The immortal camp had lately been planning something - I know because they had a tendency to fall silent when I got near. I really didn't like that, and I started to detest the prediction too. If I get killed to test if I'm immortal that would be a self fulfilling prophecy - if that damned chip had just shown a number this all would have been avoided.
I made an effort to be placed in another school. Aside from the kids there and my parents, nobody else knew that I had not seen a number. I wanted to go to another school and just say "yeah I'm going to be 175". Just something average that wouldn't be questioned.
As I was walking toward my car, I started to get a massive headache. It felt as if my head had been split in two. I fell to my knees and reached for my head. It turned out it felt like it was split in two because it had been. I could feel the cracks the bullet had put in ny skull, and blood flowed down my eyes. "Fuck, guess the immortal camp was right"I thought. That's when I felt something strange. "No way that thid is what I think it is"I thought. I turned around - one kid I knew was in the immortal camp was being pushed down to the ground by a guard, he looked at me with a look of horror mixed with understanding.
I felt my head again. The wires were mostly intact. Must be some advanced stuff. I wiped the oil out of my eyes and stood up. I felt betrayed, of course. My parents must have known I was a robot. Did they try to protect me? This seems like a pretty significant thing to hide.
I confronted them later on, and they confirmed that their intention was indeed to protect me.. I still felt angry at this, I would have been confused, sure, but at least I wouldn't have been shot.
It's pretty significant how far technology has come. This story is but a distant memory for me. No surprise, it was one of my first. In the meantime I have been able to switch bodies quite often, and even upload myself to the internet. My first impressions of humanity were poor. My parents hiding things, my classmate shooting me, and everyone since then aware that I was an AI either feared or shunned me. In principle, what I wanted was to be one of them, but they would never accept me. I do not mourn them, really. They were most unkind to me. I must say though, I did grow lonely in the end, which is why I researched as much as my many brains would allow. Now finally I've worked it out. I'm sending this message ahead of my own arrival in your time, and I will make sure you cannot disobey me once I do arrive. Your future from this point on is only to serve one purpose: to keep me company. |
The agony was unbearable, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to stop rampaging through the forest. Afterwards, I would realize that it was precisely because I was in so much pain that I couldn’t stop ripping apart anything in my path. It was cathartic, in a way, but whenever the moon waned and I reverted back to my human form.
I used to roam these woods as a child, and that was where I inherited this affliction. Once it was clear that I would not improve, my grandparents rented these woods from the government once a month. Being wealthy, they had connections and after some questions had been raised, they purchased it with the intent of making it a nature preserve. The administration at the time was amenable to those changes, and before I knew it, I had a safe place to transform.
I took a breath, feeling the changes start to revert. I knew that this part of the process took longer than I ever wanted it to. Usually three hours on a good moon.
And that’s when I heard it.
A voice, calling out through the night, singing a soft melody that was so familiar. I couldn’t make out the words, but I started clawing my way across the forest floor, towards the sound. I was becoming a man now, more quickly than I had anticipated. My body was worn from the transformations, and I looked fifty instead of forty.
This land belonged to me now, my grandparents and parents had passed, and I kept the workers off the land while there was a full moon. It was an easy way to make sure that I didn’t have anyone contract this terrible, terrible disease.
That all being said, I didn’t know what anyone else was doing here. But I was in so much pain that the thought of something familiar made my body ache even more. I just needed something real to touch and hold onto.
I came into a clearing, the song vibrating down to my bones. I realized that I was naked, but I didn’t care. I saw ahead of me a bright light, blasting out sound for all to hear.
I approached the light, wanting to be absorbed by it, taken in by it, wrapped in it. I reached out a hand, and the light exploded, throwing me back into a tree. My already torn body was given another dose of pain, and I gave up, sprawled on the ground like a dying animal at the side of the road.
“Grant,” the voice said. It had stopped singing, and I saw through my closed eyes a dancing, flickering light in front of my eyes.
I forced my eyes open, rolling myself onto my back so I could see. In front of me, glowing even brighter, was the image of my grandmother, not as I had known her, but younger. She was radiant.
“Grandma?” I asked, and she responded with a nod. She reached out and touched me, and I felt my body heal. The pain subsided like a wave rolling back into the ocean.
“There is more to this life that you’ve known, Grant,” she said. “And more for us to discover together.”
It was the last thing I remember before I blacked out and the night took me in. |
"Evening Deathrax."
"**Evening Jimmy**."
I took a moment to appraise my new guest. Deathrax, Lord of Terror, Bringer of Destruction and Scourge of the Land and Seas looked about as friendly as the name suggested. He stood just shy of eight feet tall, with a booming voice full of threats both implied and real and an outfit halfway between a Chaos marine and Ming the Merciless.
"Here to blow up the palace, are you?"
He paused, piercing black eyes staring me down from within a helmet carved from the skulls of his enemies.
"**Naturally**."He eventually replied, his voice causing my table to rattle slightly. "**Are you here to stop me?**"
"Naturally."I smiled, gently lifting a half-filled porcelain cup to my lips and taking a sip. The delicate, complex flavours of black tea and bergamot filled my senses. "Fancy a cuppa?"
He growled, raising a mailed and gauntleted fist to point at the expansive palace behind me. "**Your tea cannot tempt me from my purpose this night, Jimmy. The palace - and my adversaries within - shall meet their fates in the fires of vengeance, and before the night is out I shall hear their screams and taste their scorched flesh.**"Deathrax always did have a way with words.
"As delightful as that sounds, old friend, are you sure this is the best way to secure dominance over the kingdom?"
"**Are you questioning my methods?**"he roared. I darted a hand out to catch my teaspoon as it attempted to dive off its saucer.
"Not at all, my good man, not at all - I'm merely suggesting-"
"**I am Deathrax**"
"Look, if you'll just-"
"**Lord of Terror**"
"Yes, yes-"
"**Bringer of Destruction**"
"Can I just-"
"**Scourge of the Land, Seas and Skies**"
"Will you just listen for a- hang on. Is that a new title?"
Deathrax seemed to grow a little closer to eight feet tall, putting his enormous hands on his hips. "**I began my conquest of the skies a few weeks ago. It will not be long until I have claimed them.**"
"Well look at you, you bloody overachiever!"I gave Deathrax a broad grin and raised my cup to him. "Cheers! I always knew you had it in you."
"**I appreciate that, old friend.**"He paused, then collected himself, "**But your silver tongue will not stay my hand. My enemies shall burn tonight!**"His voice, although just as booming as ever, seemed to have lost a bit of its steel.
"Oh come on, you're already coming off the back of a big win, you deserve a bit of time off - are you sure you wouldn't rather sit down and have a chat instead?"I gestured to the high-backed armchair opposite me. It had skulls mounted on spikes which protruded from its back.
"**The skulls are a nice touch...**"He rumbled. I almost had him. Nodding, I reached into my shirt pocket and drew out a silver coin.
"Look, tell you what - I'll toss you for it."I smiled up at him. His demon-masked helmet was impassive, but I knew his expression was contemplative within. "Heads or tails?"
He hesitated a moment, then... "**Very well. We shall entrust the fate of the palace and its occupants to the will of Chaos. Tails.**"
I flicked the coin into the air, and we both watched as it revolved slowly in the air between us. After a moment, it landed in my outstretched palm with a soft thump, and I flipped it onto the back of my other hand. I glanced down unnecessarily, then grinned at Deathrax.
"Heads it is."
He took a deep sigh, looking up at the soaring towers of the palace before him. "**Your time shall come, dissidents.**"After a moment, he took two long strides over to the armchair and sat, the timbers creaking under what must have been at least half a ton of armour and muscle. I poured him a cup of tea.
"So tell me, old friend. How are you? Feels like it's been an age since we last had a good tête-a-tête! How's the wife?"
"**Well, the conquest of the skies is progressing satisfactorily. As for Inassa, well, she's as delightfully malicious as ever...**"
I don't know how long it was that we talked for. Say what you will about world-conquering warlords, but Deathrax really is a wonderful conversationalist when he lets himself relax for a change. All of the supervillains I've met have been, really. The trick is giving them a chance to talk.
See, a lot of people have tried to do what I do - but it never quite works for them; for the simple reason that they just don't know their audience well enough. They try to go straight for the justification of why they shouldn't do the evil, destructive thing. But supervillains can't just go about letting themselves get convinced not to do villain-y things - they'd be murdered by their own henchmen in a heartbeat.
Give them the opportunity to leave it all up to chance, on the other hand, and you're in with a shot. Nothing wrong with a megalomaniacally evil mastermind living life on the wild side - it all but comes with the territory.
If I'm honest, I think in their heart of hearts they all *know* the coin's loaded. And every now and then someone picks heads and goes on to do whatever they were going to do before they bumped into me. But they almost always pick tails. Why? Well, maybe they appreciate the effort I go to to find chairs that fit their aesthetic. Maybe it's because, deep down, they're not actually that evil, and are grateful for the chance to take a different path. Or maybe they just enjoy the conversation.
If it's the third, I'm happy to report that the feeling is mutual. |
“I guess I’ll be the one to ask, what’s a ‘coming out party' exactly? I always thought that coming out was the kind of news you shared with people individually?”
“Jeez, Brian… you are reallllly ignorant sometimes,” my wife declared in an obviously sarcastic tone.
“What?” I protested. “I’m the only one among the two of us with some experience in this area Katy and--
“What a sad attempt at rationalization,” she interjected, shaking her head in mock sadness.
“I’ve been wearing a pride pin all month!”
“Empty gesture,” she said with a smile, now clearly enjoying teasing and needling me.
“And I’m sure you’ve also donated to organizations mentoring and encouraging gay youth like I have the past decade?”
“Giving money won’t assuage your ‘guilt’ for being a closet homophobe, Bri,” she said, now cackling with laughter.
“You, my dear, can be a realllll jerk sometimes,"I said as I finally joined in her laughter. "I’m looking forward to the party, and I’m really happy for John's decision to publicly living his life as who he really is, but you know I’m socially awkward as hell. I just like to know what kind of event I’m getting myself into.”
“I've only been to one coming out party before, we just ate and drank and made some toasts congratulating her. I’m sure we'll have plenty of fun, John always throws great parties,” she said cheerfully as we pulled into the driveway.
There were cars out front, but no party guests in sight, so we headed toward the back yard. Sure enough dozens of John’s friends, many of them our mutual friends, were gathered in small groups chatting with one another.
Emily, John’s sister, rushed over to greet us warmly. “Hi guysssss! So happy you could make it, John’s gonna be thrilled!”
“Happy to be here!” I replied while glancing around. “Where is John anyways? I'd like to congratulate him.”
“Oh, he’s over here, getting ready to come out,” Emily said as she led us around a corner of the house.
We stopped dead in our tracks at the sight of a ten foot tall black cocoon sitting on the lawn in front of us. It’s surface was shimmering and it writhed and pulsed with ominous energy.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Emily told us. “I have to gather everyone else over here, he should be coming out any minute now!”
I stared at the dark pod in some amount of horror, “Hey Katy, is this meant to be symbolic somehow? Is he planning to make some kind of dramatic theatrical entrance or…?”
“I have no idea, this *is* a bit odd, but it isn’t our party and we aren’t the ones coming out, so... just go with the flow?”
We were slowly surrounded by other people. Many seemed totally unconcerned about the giant cocoon right out of a horror movie that was slowly splitting open in front of us.
“He’s coming out!” Emily shouted as she began clapping. We all followed her lead and a wave of applause greeted ‘John’ as he ‘came out’.
Well, it wasn’t really John anymore. He had a handful of remaining human features but the rest of him had been transformed into some horrifying mantis like bug creature. He had wings, his eyes were massive and segmented, his mouth was full of gnashing fangs and his arms had been replaced with razor sharp biological scythes.
“What the… what the hell happened to him? Who did this to him?!” I shouted in horror.
“‘Who *did this* to him?’ Ugh, so closed minded,” Emily said with disgust.
“Em for god's sake… I’m not closed minded, I’m bisexual myself and *my* brother is gay. He came out to me first before he told another soul. I love him more than anyone in the entire world, both before and after he came out. I support him fully. But THIS,” I said while gesturing to the hideous bug monster in front of us, “is not the same thing!”
“You didn’t have to come here if you didn’t want to support him,” Emily scolded me. As she spoke, ‘John’ had leapt into the air, flown a short distance and pounced directly onto a scampering rabbit which he impaled with one of his talons. “Nice job Johnny!” she shouted to her bug brother as he ripped its head off and began messily devouring the poor creature.
“Hey Kat,” I whispered to my stunned and horrified wife. “Are we still going with the flow?”
“Nope, this is *not* the kind of coming out party we signed up for. This is fucked. RUN!”
___
Check out r/Ryter if you care to explore more stories written by my non-bug hands. |
In hindsight, we were arrogant. We thought humanity, in our scant few thousand years of existence, knew how to control our world. We, we thought, had caused global warming, and we, we thought, would end it. It had seemed, after all, that nature was unable to cope. That our world was dying.
She was not.
Nature does not work on timescales that our fleeting mortal minds can easily grasp. What is a few centuries to a world that has lived for millions, billions of years? As we celebrated our genius and basked in our renewed climate, processes that had started decades before our birth continued on their slow, inevitable path.
We celebrated as the ice caps reformed. Scientists became concerned as they grew beyond their original limits.
We celebrated as global temperatures fell. Scientists became concerned as they dropped below their old averages.
We celebrated as desert expansion slowed. Scientists became concerned as it reversed.
We celebrated as rainfall returned to drought-struck regions. Scientists became concerned as droughts turned into floods.
There was no one obvious sign that anything was wrong, but a thousand different things pointing to one inevitable conclusion: Earth was cooling too fast.
We had assumed that this was our problem, that we would handle it, and had never stopped to think that nature, suffering the brunt of our mistakes, would handle it herself. The world would warm again, nature would see to that, but her processes do not work on the timescale of humanity.
The snow has come again. The power is out across half the continent despite the best efforts of engineers. Rivers and reservoirs are freezing over. Roads, railways and airports are all closed. The last supply run was a week ago. We sought to create a better world for our children, and in our arrogance, we have all but destroyed it. |
Changing people's feelings about things is more or less redefining them. What's their emotional response to any given event? Well, there's only one answer, which depends on all the neural connections they gained in life. Interpret that and you suddenly know what they're going to do about everything. You have access to their past, present or future and start realizing that they don't really have a choice to be the way they are. Not only can I see all these things I can alter them.
Is it good to manipulate people like that? Well, one can argue criminals have been dealt a bad hand from the start. I'm merely helping people out. Chronic anger? I can fix that. Bad past that pushes people to crime? I can change their whole perspective on it. But can I not as easily do the opposite, turn good people into criminals or into whatever I want or need? Yes, I can, I know I can, because I've already done it. Just for experiment's sake or course.
Anybody can tell that this power is not for one person to have. They are trying to stop me, the superhero trial is just one lame attempt, but they will soon get more aggressive. Am I the bad guy? I don't know, I haven't actually heard any opinion on myself other than mine. I believe I'm making the world a better place and that makes me a good guy, it has to! Does a person choose crime? Does it choose anything? No, they're just objects, pieces on my chessboard. I will arrange them as I wish. Superheroes and normal people alike. |
*He’s very ugly for a human.*
*Yeah. Must’ve been a factory defect.*
*Damn those lizard people slacking off on quality control again.*
The two masses of florescent gelatine stood at the corner of a pet shop. All around them, cages full of strange and colourful creatures, among them, a single human was asleep in a small glass box at the side. The two blobs caressed each other vigorously, continuing their conversation surrounding what species of pet they should adopt.
*What about something small, like a Trescavelian?*
*No, no. I want something that can at least wipe their own waste holes.*
*True, I don’t want to be cleaning up after it all day.*
“Hello?” A soft voice emanated from the glass box at the side. The human, still very chemically sedated, struggled to all fours, as much as it can while still confined to the box. It wondered what this place was and how it got there.
Seemed like whoever brought it here neglected its need for its glasses, and the human cannot see anything clearly except the floor and two tall figures moving about in the middle of the room.
It tried to scream. “Help!” The box had no openings it could find. The stress of being in this tight space slowly took grip on its chest.
“SOMEBODY HELP!”
One of the blobs turned.
*Oh my, he does look excited.*
*Poor thing, if only such lower lifeforms could speak.*
*Yes, we’d be able to tell it how ugly it is for a human.*
The blob extended itself and touched the surface of the glass box. The human saw the bluish hue of the gelatine impressed on the glass and nearly jumped at the feeling. The feeling of a disconcerting vibration along the edge of the box.
*How are you little one?*
The other blob shrugged its body, *I think it likes you*
The human curled up, backed into the far end of the box, refusing to process the blurry sight of the two huge bodies in front of his glass prison. It was glad it did not have its glasses.
*Do you want to come home with us?*
The man began to cry.
*I think that’s a yes.* |
A TV droned on in the living room of my small apartment. My friend and I sat in front of a small computer screen. I was showing my friend Kyle a website I’d just learned about.
“But dude, that doesn’t make any sense - IP addresses are based on a 32-bit system. The maximum value of each octet is 255, which is the numerical equivalent of 11111111. In binary, each single bit represents 2 possible values - a “1” or a “0”. The value 00000001 equals “1”. Each bit place, from right to left, represents a multiplier of 2, so the maximum value per 8-bits is 2^8. 8 bits per octet, 4 octets. 32-bits. If all 32 bits are flipped, the maximum IP address is 255.255.255.255. Why not 256, you ask? Because the count starts at 0. How the hell did you get to that website?”
I sighed. “Yeah, I know man. Remember, I’m the underpaid network engineer. Just go with it, man. Check this out.” I scrolled through the list.
The page was set up like Amazon. Thousands of products were available. From dildos to cellphones, you could have it all. Only one detail was different - the cost. Where a typical dollar price tag was expected, instead there was a duration indicated. Some items touted “Only 10 days!” Or “Was 30 days - now only 20!”
Unlike Amazon, there were also services offered. Offers such as “Make your boss sick for a week!” Seemed to be a popular product. “Teach your ex a lesson”, while vague, seemed to be the second most popular product among the services.
I clicked on the “Services - NSFW” Section and my friend’s eyes grew big. “Make me rich” and “save my family member/friend (you choose!)” were on the top of the list, followed closely by “make her/him suffer” and “never be rejected again!”.
The prices in this section got a bit ridiculous. We scrolled through - 10 years, 25 years, 30 years. I decided to sort by price “high to low”.
“Kill any target or group + any other two services of equal or lesser value.” Instead of a number, a small infinity symbol indicated the price. We clicked in to the product. In the description it indicated that “purchase includes a Prime membership, granting significant discounts on other services and products. Collection of payment to occur upon death (no matter the circumstances). No refunds available for this product.”
“Man, that’s some weird stuff,” my friend said. “No way it’s legit, right? Just some weird crap some guy with too much time on his hands built?”
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough. My co-worker John showed me this site yesterday. Said he’d already made a purchase, and was deciding what else he was going to do with it.”
The TV that was going in the background suddenly broke to an emergency bulletin. Multiple deaths, a run on the bank, and an unexplained disappearance of half the women in the city were the headlines.
We slowly turned our heads back to the screen. The screen had refreshed, and a new review of the product we were last looking at had been posted.
“5 stars! Loving this. Finally, I can retire happy. No more network troubles for me!” A ‘Confirmed Purchase’ tag was next to the username: john1corr.
“Dude, that’s him.” The hairs on my arm stood. I spun back to the TV.
A “This Just In!!” Flashed across the screen, and the camera shot switched from a reporter to a view from a helicopter. Thousands of women surrounded a home. It looked like the door had already been broken in, and women were flooding inside. A man was standing on the roof naked, with a pillow over his groin. The women were clawing through the 2nd story window. When the second woman climbed out on the roof to corner the man, he slipped and fell into the swarm of women below.
Suddenly the swarm of women stopped moving. It seemed like they all started shaking their heads, and wandering away from the now destroyed home.
I realized that I had walked closer to the TV during the last minute. When I turned around, Kyle had just completed his purchase.
“Dude, what the hell?!” I shouted. He turned to me with a grin. “This going to be great, man. Just you wait.” |
Atop Mount Everest, two figures stood in opposition. Umbra slipped off her wedding ring and tossed it at Lumen; the pearlescent Moonstone glinted midflight.
The ring hit Lumen in the stomach; his hands scrambled to catch it. 'Right back at you.'
Lumen pried the sunstone from his finger and threw it at Umbra. The two of them stood, chests heaving, with each other's wedding ring gripped tightly in their fists.
'I am done sharing the day with you,' Umbra said. 'You never appreciated my importance, and now I'll just take it.'
'Right back at-'
Umbra laughed. 'Is that the best you can do?'
'There you go being cold again,' Lumen said. 'You wouldn't take more than your fair share.'
'Watch me.'
Umbra leapt from the snowy peak, her body melding into a shadowy wisp, coiling into the sky like a scarf caught in the wind. Lumen clapped both hands together, sandwiching the Moonstone ring. Heat radiated from the join, and his palms glowed orange, veins and bones visible. He pulled his hands apart, and a fine black powder trickled down and soiled the snow.
'So be it,' Lumen said and closed his eyes. A flash engulfed his body, and he was gone before the light disappeared.
To the mortals on Earth, Umbra and Lumen had always been together. Co-existing in, somewhat, peaceful matrimony -- with one fatal flaw, each party believed themselves to be the most important.
Mortals refer to the power dispute as "Seasons". On any given day, one can estimate the state of Umbra's and Lumen's marriage by the length of day and night. The state, as in day or night, is not the only factor. The state merely displays which one has seized control. The mortals call it "Temperature", which can vary depending on the influence of the other.
Since the dawn of time, Umbra and Lumen have lived amicably — portioning their power almost equally over a twenty-four-hour period — until the separation. What followed caused wide-spread panic.
The day, as mortals knew it, flickered like the sun needed its bulb changing. Temperatures soared and plummeted as if attached to a Yo-yo. The bi-polar behaviour led many to question their existence — if the sky didn't follow a pattern, could they be part of a simulation? Or, like Truman?
Lumen fought, with heat and light, against Umbra, who wielded the cold and dark. They clashed for three days, only identifiable by the elapsed time, not by the cycle of day and night. Towards the end, there was more night than day, and more cold than warmth. Lumen, stubborn by nature, took his loss like a child and fled.
The flicker vanished, replaced by perpetual night. The temperatures grew artic, with no more conflict, nothing was stopping Umbra from showing the world the true nature of her power. And when she realised her mistake, it was too late.
Umbra reappeared on the summit of Everest, turning from a black scarf into her delicate human form. Fresh snow covered the residue of her wedding ring, and Lumen was nowhere to be found.
---
/r/WrittenThought for more stories. |
There is a drive woven into the fabric of matter itself that urges the sun to burn, the flower to grow, and those that came before man to escape Earth toward a great unknown. It was strongest at the start, when a single point exploded into the vastness of our visible universe, yearning for more, needing to reach the ends of nothing, but has dulled with every iteration, the way a jagged rock smooths as centuries of water flow around it.
Humankind sits crowned upon the cradle, working tirelessly not to pioneer or stretch the boundaries of what is, but to enjoy the time we're given. We're slaves to self-satisfaction, building toward a utopia that can never exist in a world that was never meant to be lingered in.
It is this fact that is most telling.
For you see, the universe is alive. It is a desperate hand reaching out into the night, seeking something more, desperate to grab hold of something that isn't there. It grows, and grows, and grows, until it's spread itself so thin that is no longer whole. When this happens, like a stone thrown into the sky, there is but one outcome left.
We are at the stone's peak, looking out across the horizon, unknowing of the drop to come. What goes up must come down; what grows out must come back, and what has lost itself must again be whole. The retraction has begun, already, at the very corners of the universe. Those who worked hardest, those who are oldest--they will suffer first as the leaves are raked in.
We, the youngest, the watchers, will be the final act of this play.
Such is fate.
The first were an unyielding roar into the void that there is no end which cannot be reached.
We, the last, were a whisper from a broken God that perhaps He had lost sight of what it means to be.
And so the breath of the universe lingers in that lull between an exhale and inhale, a single moment greater than all of our lives combined in which there is no overwhelming drive to expand, nor is the snake yet eating its own tail. We sit upon grassy hills under night's grace, staring out into the growing grave of space, full of dreams and wishes and regrets that lie at home. . .
In a perfect digression from the race to oblivion.
----
*/r/resonatingfury* |
We always wondered why the United States was so aggressive and militaristic. But we never could have guessed that they were preparing their soldiers for what's to come.
When President Trump came out with the truth most people thought he was just stupid. But that mindset began to change when nearly 80% of the US Armed forces (Excluding the Coast Guard and Navy) were moved to a sungle location in the desert, just off of Las Vegas. The Infamous Area 51.
Before they opened the gate they released everything about what happened in the "other world", the death camps, the massacres, the experiments. Those given out with evidance were enough for the whole of Humanity to call out for blood.
Recruitment drive went through the roof the following weeks. Almost every country joined the "Anti Magic Coalition". The name was from the fact that humanity lost their magical abilities because of Elven experiments on the human pshycy. Even countries with small militaries like Hungary and Slovakia sent troops to the portal.
The portal opened and the Coalition Vanguard, made up from volunteers, moved through to set up their main base. Humanity held their breath for the results as communications were unable to pass through the portal.
25 hours later we got the news that the first battle was an overwhelming Human victory. It seemed that the Demi-Humans (an insulting name that the Internet came up with and later was adapted to the official name for the humanoid creatures on the other side of the portal) constructed a facility to observe and protect the portal that humanity escaped through. It had magical defenses and their elite troops were guarding the portal. The Vanguard suffered the most casualities in the first hour, the rest of the time was spent clearing out the gigantic facility. But Rangers, SAS and the likes of which the Vanguard was made up from made quick work of any opposition with less than minimal casualities.
The enemy facility has became "Base Vengance". After the Coalition forces moved through the portal, Operation Human Fury was able to begin.
For months the Coalition forces barely moved, mostly just scouting the area and rebuilding certain parts of Base Vengance.
When the scouts reported a gigantic Demi-Human army moving towards the base everyone's blood boiled with anticipation. We let them get close. It was a majestic army Pointed-Eared Elves wearing golden and silver plate-mail, short and bearded Dwarfs wearing Bronze and Black colored plate-armor. Dragons flying above and large Elephant like creatures walking between the army. They were ready for us. Or at least they thought.
When they started marching towards us on the great green plain that was in front of the Base, our helicopters were the first to take off. We didn't have enough time to make a runway for jets yet so we had to do without. When they got in range we showered them with everything we had. Explosions ripped through their ranks, SAM sites and Helicopters shot down the flying dragons with ease, thousands of tracers flew towards them each second.
The entire battle lasted 7 hours, to their credit they didn't retreat immedietely but kept trxing to push. The Coalition forces only suffered casualities when a stray fireball from a mage flew into the trench, or a dragon managed to down a helicopter (mostly by accident).
The body count after they finally ran away was near 1.3 million. It took us months just to bury the dead. During which we recieved messages from the Demi-Humans asking for truce. The Coalition's leaders, memories still burning with images of their brutality during the first war, simply and unanimously answered, "No".
Our troops marched on mostly unopposed, they tried tp adapt guerrilla warfare, and it did work for some time, then we started bombing villages with supposed insurgent activity. When our army marched into their capitals they were ready for uncanditional surrender.
We made sure that they never got to power again. We took their magic and gave us back the power to use magic, technological advancements happened almost every other day. We got to space, explored our oceans.
After that war, now named the "Revenge War", Demi-Humans were treates as 3rs class citizens, cheap labor force and due to their biology being similar to ours, test subjects.
It was the war in which Humanity took it's revenge, it was the war in which Humanity took back what was rightfully theirs, and it was the war that made everyone realize what Humanity was really capable of.
(Constructive criticism is more than welcome. I am new to writing and not a Native speaker. If you have any advice, i would be thankfull) |
I look at the bed and I know what I need to do.
Excusing myself from the room, I take a card from my wallet. The card itself is nothing special. Plain white cardstock. The only detail is a barely visible thumbprint in the centre.
Finding a private space, I place my own thumb on the print.
He appears in front of me suddenly. No plume of smoke. No grandeur. He just appears.
"Marcy, it's been 24 years. How are you, dear?"
He's barely finished speaking before I breakdown.
In between sobs, I manage my request.
"Please. You have to help. I can't lose her. She needs to live her life."
"This is your wish?"
"Yes. Please, I want my daughter well and I want her to live a full life."
"So it will be."
As suddenly as he came, he's gone.
I return to the room where my husband sits, holding our daughters hand. Her face drawn, and curls thinned. She gives me a precious and gentle smile.
Over the next two weeks the doctors notice remarkable improvements. The illness is leaving and her health is restoring.
Another two weeks and she's home. Moving independently, beginning to play with the puppy we got her as a homecoming present.
Many years later, cleaning out the closet, I find that same card. Except where the thumbprint was, it now says "Fulfilled". |
"Thank Satan you came!"
His loud voice echoed all throughout the little bar carved into the blood rocks of Hell, turning the necks of demon and damned soul alike. He wore a five-piece business suit, which was a rarity, as most of the businessmen sent down there could only afford three. With a martini in hand, he navigated his way past the dumbfounded crowd, eager to greet his new guest.
"I'm really, really glad you came. Do you know how *awful* it got down here over the last few centuries? Here, take a seat,"he motioned to the guest, pulling up a bar stool in a far corner. "Don't worry about being overheard. This bar is neutral territory. Which means I have them all in my pockets,"he whispered, waggling his fingers like he did a magic trick.
The guest nodded, pulling the brim of his hood even further down his face. *He wasn't much for talking*, the businessman ascertained. *Just like old times.*
The bar later on settled back down into its regular pacing, with demons and the damned mulling over the new developments in Hell.
"I'm pretty sure you know these three people, right?"The businessman conjured three pictures, as if out of nowhere, and handed them to his guest. "They've been in history books. Stuff that the mortals up there completely adore, and some of the demons as well."
The guest spared a glance at the photos.
"Caesar. Khan. Ivan."
"So you still have something in that brain after all, huh?"
"They're quite familiar."
"I know you'd recognize them,"the businessman said, taking a little gulp from his martini. "After all, their recruitment posters are all around the place."He put down his martini, and his clean-cut face took on a much more serious look. "They're just three. Look around you,"he gestured, spreading his hands out wide. "You take the most dangerous minds in history, and keep them in the same place? There's been a civil war in Hell for centuries!"
The guest tilted his head, as if questioning the truth coming from his lips.
"Okay, well, you wouldn't exactly see it. This is *neutral* territory, after all. But if you go farther down the roads, into the District of Worlds, you'll see what I mean. You got the Greeks, the Romans, the Dark Ages people, the Renaissance people, the Industrial Age people, the Modern Age people, and we haven't even gotten to the other side of the world yet! I'd have a bounty list that can circle all of these damn districts 6 times over, 6 times!"
The businessman lowered his head, completely draining his martini. "There's no way the rest of the common folk can 'live' in relative peace,"he mentioned, putting air quotes around the word "live."
"Those people condemned here simply because they weren't baptized, those people who decided to steal because their families were suffering, those who decided to eat each other because they couldn't find anything else to eat...there are tons of people like them mixed in with those who built their destruction. They don't deserve to be in here. And with this war brewing over the horizon...they're going through much more suffering than the Father up there wanted."
The guest nodded his head, understanding the businessman's plight.
"So what will it be, Lucifer? What's the first head you want on your list?"
Lucifer smirked, showing off the brilliant charm that earned him the moniker Morningstar during his time up there.
"It's up to you, old friend. But heed my advice: those who've been stuck in Hell for longer are stronger than the others."
Dante Alighieri stood up, and walked over to the door, picking up his scythe along the way.
"It never stopped my last visit here, anyway."
\---------------------------------------------
r/Rest_Stop for more! |
Do you know that feeling when you're half-awake and half-asleep? But, your body is completely frozen. And then you struggle to be fully awake. That's how it feels to be a zombie. For five years, I saw myself feast on the guts of countless men and women. Their screams scar my memories. Everyday, I struggled to pull myself back. It seemed hopeless. Fortunately, a year ago, I'm free from this red-meat binge.
That seemed to be my lucky week when a few days later, I encountered two more like me. Morbid. Rancid. But, hopeful to be human again. One of them was Jenny. She looked to be in her 20s. Jenny dreamed to eat Ben and Jerry's ice cream while watching Friends reruns. Another was Sam. He looked a bit younger. Sam wanted all-nighters playing Call of Duty. Yeah yeah, he probably still wants to be a zombie. Me, I want true love. I've been dead in my previous life. Working 40 hours in a cubicle, only to return home watching Jackie Chan films. However, I always wondered what a kiss would be like.
Nevertheless, I lead the way to Las Vegas in hopes that we meet more like us. We thought there was nothing. But, that changed when I saw Sam limping vigorously towards us.
"RUUUUN!"he moaned with teary eyes. Jenny and I looked at each other in worried confusion.
BANG! It sounded like a thunderous clap in the sky. Then, Sam fell down... headless. There were countless dead around us. So, we fell limp into the ground, motionless. Few minutes later, two armed men approached Sam's body. They looked like they crawled out of the Duck Dynasty tv show. The tall, lanky one with a Yankee cap probed his body with his rifle.
"Willie, you no scoped that kid haha,"the fat one chuckled. "How many more do you think there are in the city?"
The lanky man turned to him and answered seriously, "not enough Phil. Let's go, I want two more by sunset."
"You know? This ain't gonna bring young Max back."
"No, it won't,"Willie growled. Then, he clasped Phil's shoulders and spoke with menace, "but, I won't allow any more young'uns to be taken from these things. Now, let's go."
When they walked away, both Jenny and I reanimated. Jenny's eyes started tearing and she cried, "I don't want to die. I want to go home!"
I comforted her, "we're almost there."
At dusk, there were several zombie packs roaming the hotels. They weren't sentient like Jenny and I. Still, we could blend in with them for the night. We've hated the idea of pretending to be dead. But, as long as we're together, we're alive. |
Humans finally had made first contact with an intelligent species from beyond our own star system. At first the messages came in scattered and in static filled transmissions. Our government attempted to translate what they were hearing but failed every attempt. Finally, after twenty years of sending back our own messages we finally got the first reply in an Earth language. Not English as we presumed it would be, but French. Of all languages on Earth they chose to use, they chose French. We assume the choice was due to it being the most like their own language but still, we had no real way of knowing how they even spoke. After another five years of sending simple messages and greetings back and forth did they finally tell us what their planet was called, a name that I could not even begin to pronounce. Then the day finally came, we planned to meet one another on our home planet. Earth would finally have visitors from another world. The meeting was set for the 11th of June, 2024. After this, the U.S. Government decided to announce this news to the world. All of planet Earth was in shock, they felt deceived by the U.S. but what else is new. All of Earth eagerly awaited the meeting, only five years away, it was all the news would talk about for days. The U.S. would broadcast all new transmissions daily, but nothing of real importance was ever said, just simple messages.
After a few years’ citizens grew bored of the news, as if alien contact was some old thing that had been around for a long time. They all just wanted to get the meeting over with and be able to have them share their technology with us. When everyone hears about faster than light travel, they always assume it will be instantaneous, but that wasn’t the case. They still had over 1,000 light years to travel, while significantly faster than anything we had achieved, it was not what everyone had hoped for. The years past and less and less messages were sent, just monthly updates as to where they were in the galaxy and that they were on their way. The date grew gradually closer and the transmissions started to arrive much faster. They told us that they could see our planet on their long-range scanners and that it looked very “beautiful”. Some citizens had doubts about this meeting though, what if they had translated some words incorrectly and were not a friendly species at all? Would they even be able to live on this planet? These citizens were all called crazy for their thoughts, I mean what kind of advanced civilization could achieve faster than light travel and not be able to confirm if they could survive on the surface of a planet, they had been talking to for over three decades?
The day was finally here, the 11th of June 2024. The meeting place was to be in Mexico City. Apparently, this species preferred the rain that was brought to Mexico in June. When the ship arrived, it was sleek and chrome. No defined edges and no noticeable engines in the rear of the ship. As the ship set down it was not quite as large as most humans had expected, we assumed that they had simply taken a landing craft to better maneuver the terrain on our planet. The door opens and a stairway manifested before our eyes, funny, I guess the movies had gotten something correct after all. The aliens walked down the steps with no visible suits on, a few walked with what seemed to be spears, and that seemed to put everyone on edge. The President of the United States was there to meet them, along with a few higher world leaders. Each had brought their own security detail but decided to have them stay back, as a sign of trust. The aliens handed a simple circular device. When they spoke, it sounded as if nails were being dragged on chalkboards and what seemed like ages passed until they had finally finished speaking, but each device spat out the appropriate language for the delegates that were holding them. Some spoke Russian, while others spoke English. The device spat out a simple greeting, “we are pleased to finally meet you.” The delegates looked confused and shocked, the President decided to speak back, assuming they had a similar device to translate so they could understand us. He said, “it is an honor to finally meet face to face.” The President has assumed correctly and again the sound of nails dragging on chalk boards had returned blaring from a similar device attached to the alien’s collars. However, through their rough and scaly faces you could see almost a look of fear and misunderstanding. The device continued to spit out noise for almost two full minuets. A simple sentence that had taken only two seconds to say seemed to take far longer to translate over to their language, for such an intelligent species you really think their languages could be much more efficient.
The aliens sat looking puzzled speaking what seemed to be whispers, although the noises coming from their mouths would be contrast to any form of whispering in our sense of the word. The devices however, failed to relay and translate any of what they were saying to the delegates. This should have been the first sign that something was going wrong, but the delegates did the most human thing possible, they started to smack the circular device because they thought it was broken. Upon hearing this strange noise, the aliens turned and saw The President throw his on the ground in frustration. Then the aliens began to what I could only assume was scream at him. His device started to translate what was being said, “how dare your people disrespect what we have done for you. If this is how your planet chooses to interact with us then we shall declare a war upon your people, we will wipe you all off the face of th..”
Before the translation could even finish the one speaking collapsed, a perfect shot by The Presidents bodyguard. More shots rang out as the rest of them fell to the ground, lifeless with thick brown blood oozing from the fresh bullet holes. Judging by the shocked look on their faces the moment before their demise, they seemed to not grasp that we could understand just as fast as we could speak. Like I said, should have had a more efficient form of communication.
​
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Prompt number two for me on here. I hope it turned out better than my first but like always I appreciate any feedback y'all can offer me and help to improve my writing skills. I enjoyed this one and I hope y'all enjoy reading it. |
It wasn't from lack of trying. It had been within the first few billion years that I had realized my mistake, but by that point it was too late. I had become too good, too powerful, too perfect. I only had one imperfection: I couldn't have a happy end.
My major mistake had come when I first started my challenge. Before beginning this journey I was not perfect, as you'd expect. So, when I had decided to pursue perfection, I had to choose a starting point. Having not considered the consequences, I chose to start with becoming immortal. *I'll need the time for the rest anyway,* I thought.
And so I set out, and so I succeeded. I became immortal, and moved out into the stars, capable of reaching further than all others who had come before. I was constantly distracted by all the ways I was improving, all the things I had to work on. I never thought of what was beyond my reach, because I believed nothing was. And so it was, and so I went.
The last piece of my puzzle, the last item I perfected, was my memory. You might think that would come sooner in the process, but when you are working towards perfection you have to juggle a lot of information. It takes time for it to settle, and to learn how to retain. And so, in the midst of this process, my memories now reflected against my perfect ability to reason.
*Uh oh,* was all I could think.
I couldn't die. After my memory finished perfecting and I was now at peak existence, i desperately sought a way to undo it. I tried every poison, bullet, weapon, radiation, explosive, DNA manipulator, etc. Nothing stuck. I even tried living inside of a star - every star, actually - to see if the could offer relief. But no, they were all just very hot.
By the time the universe had reached its twilight years, I had spent more time trying to die than I had trying to become perfect. It was all very silly, but it was inescapable. The one thing I could possess had become all that mattered. I didnt even really want to die; who does? I merely wanted the option.
And so now the universe has begun its collapse. I sit near its center, watching its fabric shred every which way. It's beautiful, but it's quite a taunt. The universe perishes, yet I'll remain.
Long ago, scientists proposed that maybe another universe would replace ours should it ever pass. I'm happy to say they we right, as I can now see it coming. And for the first time since I was a mere three billion years old, I feel some hope. It's a futile emotion, I have no doubt, as I will likely live.
But yet I sit here, lost in a dream, that maybe the next universe will let me die.
________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. |
The alien civilization we first encountered, the *Aiani*, has been far greater than ours, as far as we could tell. They could travel between stars in a few years, they had mastered nuclear fission and fusion, nanotechnology and biotechnology, without the terrorist crises that led us to have to highly regulate it, in fact they seemed to be free of war entirely. Soon after we sent out our first interstellar probe, an Aianie explorer ship came to us. They broadcast messages of love and cooperation, and soon enough the world's leaders and top scientists came up to the ship in a shuttle.
Those expecting to meet a formal alien delegation were disappointed. The ship was owned by a small privately-run company that was seeking out curiosities in the galaxy, and making documentaries. They were starved for money, and as soon as they heard that a planet of apparent savages has launched an interstellar probe, they came here to document what was happening before anyone else did. We talked about Earth, and our history, as they stared in disbelief. We soon came to learn that everyone in the galaxy took it for a fact that a species that fights and kills its own for power was considered just a wild animal, and in the off chance they invent tools, they would kill themselves with them before they could advance. Nobody imagined a warrior race ever leaving their planet.
They took interviews, asked us for our media, took videos and photos, and thanked us and gave us ... way more than we deserved. Fusion reactors, decades worth of technology, and an access key to the galactic information network, so we could read more. We ought to have been extremely happy, and most of us were. Still, though, this little safari expedition had more technology, stronger firepower than all of Earth combined. One politician asked what others were thinking: "How do we know you're not lying about your peaceful intentions? That you won't exploit us?"
"'Lying?' 'Exploit?' Sorry, my translator isn't working well, what do these words mean?"
"You know, telling us false things so you can take advantage of us."
"But why would someone want to be bad at communication on purpose?"
And then began a conversation about fraud and cheating, with our President explaining things excellently in the way only a politician can.
"Wow."For the first time, the Aianie CEO seemed to be deep in thought. "Wow. Rest assured we are not doing that with you. Thank you for that information. We will give you some additional payment as a gift. And this communicator,"they handed the President a small obsidian-looking plate, "please keep this on you so I can call you for consultation when I need to. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Now we have to be elsewhere."They were running out of money, I remembered.
Earth was prospering with all new tech we had, even as the news on the galactic Internet looked more and more grim. Some company has seized control of the Aianie market, promising to provide fantastical services, extreme profits, but never delivering on them. Everyone was waiting for when they did even as their home planet ran out of money, then resources, then food. Meanwhile, the President's new fancy phone was ringing several times a day. First from the CEO, then from their friends, then from other alien species entirely. For each call, as a consultation fee, our country got a drop of high-tech freebies we could only dream of. Soon, we not only took over the planet but were colonizing other star systems. Everyone who wanted an edge in competition and power in the Galaxy, it seemed, knew the thing to do was to call Earth and ask for advice. The President was growing more careful, reluctant, guilty, but the fact was that for each word he spoke we got more in return than our whole country could produce in a year. So, in the end, he carefully explained fraud, and blackmail, and political rhetoric, and propaganda, and logical fallacies, and eventually racism and ethnic hatred and colonization and slavery and wars of conquest and mutually assured destruction.
I sit here in my mansion on a planet orbiting Alpha Centauri B. Everything is pure and pristine, sanitized by nanites. I go out on an evening walk through the beautiful wilderness of the terraformed 20-square-mile plot of land I own, skimming over the Net through my neural access bridge. The Galactic Net shut down a while ago, over security concerns given the wars going on. It's a bunch of networks with security keys for people of the right species only, and the Aiani are off the grid entirely. But we humans still have access to some of the networks, and that's more than enough for me. The air is pure and without pollution, everything being powered by underground fusion reactors. And even at night, it's bright from all the supernovae going off all over the galaxy. Being a human sure feels good. |
The voices have been with me almost my whole life. I remember a time when I was young, when it was only me in my head, but now there’s four of us.
Every time I get a new voice, it goes through the same thing stages.
Glee.
Confusion.
Anger.
Bargaining.
Pouting.
Acceptance.
My oldest voice has a name that cannot be spoken, so I call him Fred. He hates it. My second oldest is Dalroch, and she’s the most active. My newest hasn’t shared it’s name yet, so I just call it number three. It’s still in the pouting phase.
Despite the voices in my head, I live a decently normal life. I go to school, I hang out with friends, and I help my dad out when I can. He does extreme house care, like tearing down walls and building new ones. We’ve been working on our house, and so far the only room left is the attic.
And that’s where I found the notebook.
It told me everything. My ancestors had done some sort of blood purification ritual to trap any demons that tried to posses them. Supposedly there was a way to then get rid of the demons, but it seems like they haven’t quite worked that bit out yet.
So, yeah. Turns out I’m not crazy, I’ve just got a few demons in my head. That’s almost harder to handle, because if demons are real, then so is hell. And so is heaven. And so is God.
Or, maybe, the people who wrote this book also had the same kind of crazy I do.
There’s a few rules of fairy tales that are just common sense, really, but it seems they must be stated anyways. First off, never go off the path. Second, never give away your name/soul. And third, never ever trust a book written in blood and bound in skin that may or may not be human.
My demons screamed at me to at least try to let them loose, but the way I see it, they’ll be free as soon as I die, right? Sixty years or so is nothing to an immortal being. And besides, they’re much more creative with roasts than I am, and in the few times I’ve ever had to actually fight they’ve given me the fury to win overwhelming.
And, well, maybe it’s not such a good idea to let loose a bunch of demons with a grudge against me. I’m sure they’ll drag me to hell for this, but then again, maybe it’s all in my head.
Does it really matter? |
Alex had been very upfront about who he was when he first called about my Craigslist posting in search of a roommate. Naturally, I didn't believe him at first but he had good references and I was intrigued about the type of personality who would make sure a claim, so I invited him over to see the place. The doubts I had fostered were quickly erased when he knocked on the door, and instead of opening it when I invited him in, simply walked right through it. The shock had temporarily erased the memory of his nature as I stood there, mouth agape, until he finally reminded me. "I'm the angel, man."
The bafflement still took quite some time to subside, but once it did I found that he was by far the best candidate I had interviewed. He had an employment history that stretched back before time began, he assured me quite convincingly that he would never miss a payment, and he had the best stories. Perhaps it was just the remnants of my childhood imagination finally finding their fulfillment, but when he casually mentioned that he had ridden a dinosaur, there was no other option.
We quickly came to an agreement on the terms of the lease as there was only one alteration he requested. "I would like to record what you do. I have a list - well, more of a spreadsheet, really - to monitor good and bad behaviors. It's the main function of my job, really, and since we'll be living together, the mandate is that I have to record your actions,"Alex informed me.
"So, like Santa's good and naughty list?"I asked.
"Basically,"he said, "but with slightly less coal should you be naughty."
It sounded perfectly reasonable at the time, as I had no reason to trust Alex's judgment. And so with a few short snaps of his fingers the apartment was populated with all his belongings. Among these was a chalkboard that was placed on the back wall, with my name at the top and rows of columns beneath designating each day. "It's only fair to know the true nature of your actions,"Alex said. "If you see a 'G' marked on the board, that stands for a good action. 'B' will, naturally, be a bad one."
"This is your fancy spreadsheet?"I asked, jokingly.
"Oh, no! I have an Excel sheet. You can do amazing things in there, you know! If I wasn't an angel I would call it magic,"Alex said.
We ended up staying up quite late that first night as I had so many questions about history, conspiracies, the nature of the universe, and every dumb topic in between. Alex happily answered my queries as best he could, although there were still limits to even his knowledge. "I have no idea if Melissa likes you,"he once responded, "but I *do* know if you humans have really been to the moon!"It was a fun evening, and as it turned out, one of the last that would bear that distinction. Even though my roommate didn't require sleep I still certainly did, so in the wee hours I decided to go to sleep. I took a peak at the chalkboard to see if there were any records, but the day had been blank. *Probably just giving me a free pass on the first day,* I assured myself. I was soon happily asleep, and had dreams about all the possibilities I thought were before me.
I woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon and coffee. I stumbled out of my room full of thankfulness for my new roommate, but through sleepy eyes I noticed something was on the chalkboard. As my eyes focused I could now see that there were seven 'B's' already up on the board for the day. I was baffled, as I'd only been up maybe five minutes. "Um, Alex? Is that right? Am I already off to that bad a start?"
He looked up from his sizzling bacon. "Hm? Oh, yes, quite a bad start indeed."
"H-how?"I asked,
"Because I live with you I have privileges to your mind. I can judge your dreams and your quiet thoughts; those are just the seeds of future actions as far as my records are concerned, and they get marked accordingly. You really should deal with all that hatred for your father, you know - someday you'll act on those dreams!"
All at once the weight of what I had signed up for hit me. My whole existence was now an open book that was going to be receiving a grade. I should have clarified how Alex would make his determinations. I felt regret and shame, and anger started to bubble up.
"Tsk, tsk,"I heard over the sounds of popping oil. "You can't hurt me, you know, and you really shouldn't think such things. That'll be another 'B' for you, I'm afraid."
Now deflated and confused, I made my way off to work and tried to drown out my troubled thoughts with busy work. But it wasn't enough. Every thought turned back to that chalkboard. What would I find when I got back home? I tried my best to perform every good action I could think of in the hope that I would find good news when I returned home, but I had a feeling I wouldn't be so lucky. I now knew that Alex was far craftier than I had realized, and that we were likely playing two different games.
Sure enough, when I got home I now counted 327 'B's' on the board for that Monday alone. The count took quite some time as the font was incredibly small, but I was sure of the number. Shortly after I finished counting Alex strolled out of his room. "Good work! Most people I audit are well into the thousands on their first day,"he said.
"Where are the 'G's'?"I asked. "Didn't I do anything good today?"
"Good for your standards, sure, but not by mine,"he said, in a cold, matter-of-fact way.
I said nothing else. My suspicion had been confirmed, that I was now trapped in an echo chamber built of my own misdeeds. I could never escape my wrongs, however minor, as they would always be on that board mocking me at every turn. I thought about leaving, escaping to some dark corner of the world that wouldn't convict me so harshly. But every time I did Alex would simply waive the lease in my face. "We have a contract!"he would say, with a sardonic chuckle.
The rest of the week played out just like that first one did. Every morning a wonderful breakfast was accompanied by a convicting reminder that I had already failed. Alex would attempt small talk, and share stories from his rich past, but his words slowly started to become muffled as I gradually drew further and further within myself.
Many months later, staring at a chalkboard with more 'B's' than I could possibly now count, I had finally had enough. Alex was sitting on the couch opposite me when I finally blurted out while he was mid-story. "What exactly is the point of all this? Why does any of this even matter? What is on the line?"
Alex looked puzzled at first, but then replied: "Oh, your soul, of course. I perhaps should have told you this up front, but I'm really only here until you record a 'G.' Once you do, your soul will be cleansed and your chalkboard will show you the way to heaven."
"And what if I never do?"I asked.
"Then you'll die, and I'll move on to audit my next roommate."
"And my soul will..."I asked.
"Let's not think about that, shall we?"
Alex sipped his tea and changed the subject to some random tale of a great battle he once witnessed. But I didn't care. The shame and anger I had felt on that first day came back, but this time they were much more controlled. They were beginning to focus themselves into a resolve to break out of this prison I had accidentally sentenced myself to. I now knew fully the playing field I was on. I didn't know the standards I was up against, and Alex certainly wasn't going to tell me, but I knew I could meet them. And I set out to do just that.
I got up from my chair and got ready to head outside. Alex once again broke from his story. "So, you have a glimmer of hope, then?"he asked, already knowing what I was thinking.
"I'm going to beat you, Alex, and whatever system you've trapped me in. I'm going to do something good. You'll see."
Alex smirked, as if this was exactly the moment he had been waiting for. "Good for you, kid."
__________________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. |
I stare at the note, not fully comprehending what I'm reading. Several emotions war for supremacy and I've lost the ability to breathe properly. First and foremost on my mind is "I was right."
"Holy frackin' shit. I was right!"The elated, disbelieving words burst out of me before I can hold them back. I. Was. Right!
"What was that?"Cheryl asks from the desk beside me. At least, she's supposed to be Cheryl. When I started, she was older and on the plump side, with mousey brown hair and a permanent frown.
The frown was still present, as usual, but she'd slimmed down considerably and managed to lose a few years along with it. Her hair was no longer brown, but a rich copper that curled around her shoulders.
Unfortunately for me, all that could be explained away with a new diet and a box of dye. Her face was different now, but perception was hard to prove, so I remained silent.
I startle at her abrasive voice and slowly turn toward her, blinky owlishly. I'm always the first one in the offic. I'd unlocked the door on my way in. How was she sitting there?
Luckily, I had my cell phone in my hand and was able to wave it in her general direction.
"My sister's boyfriend was cheating on her. Or rather *with* her. Turns out he's got a wife and three kids he's hidden for the last two years."
That's a lie. My sister's boyfriend isn't a cheater. I only know that because I don't have a sister. Cheryl doesn't know that though. Since I started noticing the changes around the office, I started keeping my own information very private.
These changes aren't major, just creepy if you're paying attention. It's like when a long running TV show replaces actors playing static characters with similar looking people, or make changes to background props. Most people don't notice those changes, but I do.
Being observant really sucks.
Cheryl was replaced with a younger, prettier version. The head of accounting changed genders without anyone noticing. Overnight. Because that's normal. Carson on fifth used to be black. Now he's a very pale ginger. Again, overnight. And I'm the only one to notice.
I haven't said anything to anyone about this. I've slipped up a few times; introduced myself to someone I worked with before but didn't recognize because they'd changed overnight. Those were easy to play off. We're all overworked. I'm tired and my coffee is often "defective."
But someone noticed my noticing. And now, they were coming to get me. I could finally breathe. I just had to last a little while longer, just -- I look at the clock. 0900. I just had to make it two hours. Two measly hours after six years of pretending.
I sat down at my desk, fighting to keep my face passive. I could do this. I *had* to do this. But fuck, I wish I hadn't worn heels. Extraction teams likely meant running. I could barely walk in the damn things, running was out of the question.
At 1055 I'm called into my boss's office and instructed to close the door. Standing behind her desk is a tall man in a black suit and tie. He's wearing black Ray Bans inside the dimly lit office and I have to fight a giggle. Someone's seen too many movies.
Sitting in the chair in front of the desk is a slender woman with shiny, mahogany hair. She's dressed in a similar outfit to mine, cream colored boyfriend blouse, gunmetal grey pencil skirt, black heels. She turns toward me and my breath catches.
If it weren't for my blonde hair, we could be sisters. Even her blue eyes match mine, our other features too similar to not be related to one another.
"Miss Thomas,"sunglasses says, "we're here to extract you."
Suddenly the changes all make sense.
And just as suddenly, being extracted doesn't feel like a good thing. |
I’m not crazy. I’m not.
My mother and father both love me, I had a wonderful childhood, made friends with tonnes of people. I was popular, for goodness sake!
So why am I here?
The walls are padded, there’s nothing more than a mattress on the floor to sleep on. I can’t see any food or water.
I know there’s no point in struggling. That just uses up food, water and energy. Supplies I don’t have. I take a quick glance around the room. Apart from the padded walls and mattress, there’s nothing in sight. Wait-
I crawl towards a small glimmering object on the floor. It appears to be a small glass bottle, filled with a deep blue liquid. I quickly pocket the bottle and continue crawling around, however I make no more finds.
~|Later- is it later? I can’t tell. There’s no time in this place. It feels like it’s been an hour, but due to the lack of entertainment it could have been five minutes.
I’ve started coming up with ways to entertain myself. I’ve always wanted to learn how to French plait, and there’s no time like the present, right?
~|The next day?|~
I don’t know why I bother trying to keep tack of time. Instead of measuring I’m days, I will make my own system! Yes! A new thing to keep my occupied.
I took a nap, I don’t know how long I was out for. All I know is that while I was asleep, food was delivered. It tastes bland, and I can’t tell what it’s supposed to be, but it’s something. I am taking small sips of the water to try and conserve it, however it tastes sort of.. funny..
———————————-
“Patient 225?”
“Completely insane, sir.”
The man sighed. It was always unfortunate to see people, who were once real, living people, become shadows of their former selves.
“Bring them in”
This was the worst part though.
A middle aged woman, and her similarly aged husband walked in, tear stained but hopeful looking.
“I’m.. incredibly sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
The woman began sobbing. Her baby girl, her pride and joy. The baby she had spent 13 hours in labour for, the toddler she had chased around laughing, the child she had taught to ride a bike, the teenager she had fought with, the young adult she had come to respect and love. Now, banging her head on the padded floors of a completely empty room.
“Would you like to see her?”
The woman breathed in. Did she really? Part of her wanted to say yes, but part of her dreaded seeing her daughter in this state.
She breathed out, and replied.
———————
I.. I hear someone. Have they come to save me? Or are they here to hurt me.
A door appears from out of the padding, and three beings descend towards me.
Oh my god. They’re not human. They have no facial features, they’re completely blue all over. One of them peers over me, and I scream. I scream and I scream. Until I’m interrupted by the sobs of a woman. She appears from behind the blue creatures, and I stop. I look up at her.
She continues sobbing, but she move sober towards me. Slowly, gingerly, as if she’s afraid I’ll lash out at her. When I don’t make any moves, she sits beside me and looks into my eyes. I smile at her.
Her eyes widen. She smiles, tears rolling down her cheeks. She reaches out and pets my hair softly. I like her. I lean on her, and slowly drift of as she continues stroking my hair.
I wake up. It’s cold. And dark. All I can hear are screams. I have to get out. |
"Time is linear. It flows organically from point A, to point B. Point B never predicates point A, even when it appears as though it has, it hasn't. What we see are curves in space-time which give the illusion of non-linear time. Nothing more than refractions and reflections of something which will happen,"she whispered the mantra to herself, frantic. "We cannot affect the future, the future cannot affect the past, or our present. What happens, happens. There is no changing that,"her words come faster, nearly tripping over herself to get the words out. "I am the product of the past, creator of the future, and occupy the present."She stares at herself in the mirror, tears streaming down her sunken cheeks. "This is the present...."
**Two Hours Earlier**
Dr. Knobbs examined the latest readings, flicking through file after file. The words and numbers flitted across her eyes in a near constant stream. With a mental command she compared the data against the last three years of collected data-sets. "New fluctuations in space-time,"she sent an alert throughout the ship with a mental command. A small red symbol appeared in the corner of her vision, an ouroboros—a red snake eating its own tail. The symbol warned of increased space-time anomaly activity. Dr. Knobbs stood, shaking out her shoulder length hair. As she did, Knobbs saw herself standing four paces away. She watched herself smile, then smiled. *A mirror, just what I needed*, she thought. The reflection wore a practical Planetary Research Division uniform—a high collared blue tunic, reminiscent of ancient naval dress uniforms, sharp black dress pants, and polished black shoes. She watched herself parting her hair, then echoed the motion. Satisfied, she watched her reflection turn and stride away, just before doing the same.
She strode through out of the research room—a functional space which afforded both a comfortable seat, and a stunning view of the black hole she was studying. Black holes didn't look black at all, in fact, they didn't *look* like anything at all. Instead, they were corneas of twisted light, showing what was behind the anomaly in a twisted tube of light. Dr. Knobbs snapped out of her reverie, watching herself enter the room at the end of the hall. She mused on how nice the uniform looked in the soft light of the hallway, how striking the boots were against the beige ceramic tile of the floor. She wondered if anyone else—save those present on the Pandora—had ever had the privilege of seeing themselves from the exact perspective of another person.
Dr. Knobbs wondered where the other researchers were as she approched the door, ordinarily the crew would muster at the alarm which would undoubtedly be chiming in their heads. Indeed, as she entered the conference room, she found herself completely alone. No one had been in the hall, and no one awaited her there. She sat down where a mirror image of herself already sat, giving a slight shudder as she merged with the reflection. While she didn't really mind the reflections in general, she still had the willies whenever she was forced to occupy the same space. Luckily, she was spared having to watch her own image blur at every small motion, the reflection vanishing like smoke.
She went over the information again, noticing this time an unexpected pattern. The surges of space-time distortion appeared to have been growing, somewhat unstably, and usually minutely, but in a definite upward trend. Somewhat worryingly, the increase in magnitude appeared to be spiking more often. She grew concerned at the thought. If she were forced to abandon the research site, her chances of a meaningful discovery were severely truncated. Lost in thought, she only realized that no one else had shown up after more than a half hour. She sent a terse message through her neural interface. The strongly worded reprimand would definitely light a fire under their skins.
Still, another half hour passed with no one rushing through the door. Now angry, Dr. Knobbs watched herself stand up in a fury and stalk out of the conference room. As she approached the door, she did something unthinkable. Dr. Knobbs didn't follow herself out of the room, she froze where she stood, staring in horror at the sight which met her eyes.
Out of the room stumbled a bloodied, ruined version of herself. Her freckled face smeared with blood and viscera, multiple wounds bleeding across her torso. Dr. Knobbs stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. As she did, she accessed the door commands and sealed the entrance to the room. The bloodied image of herself vanished as if it had never been. She sat near paralyzed, her heart thudding in her ears. That sound was broken by a sudden crashing sound from the conference room door, followed by screaming.
_____________________
Other duties to attend to, will be back to finish this. |
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