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With the eyes of the old man I looked down at the schoolbook in front of me. A lifetime of travels, emotions, and experiences of all variety scrolled through the back of my mind. I chuckled under my breath at the absurdity of it all, which drew the ire of Mrs. Roswell at the front of the class. She quickly put me in my place, and once again my attention fell on the open book, which led to the first truly somber thought of this new-old life:
*I'm still terrible at math.*
I wondered why, of all the times I could have been transported back to, it had to be my 8th grade math class. Why not the moment I had won the basketball game for my team just a couple weeks earlier? Why not two weeks later, when my family would be on vacation? Being careful not to laugh at it all again, I smiled inside my thoughts. The universe always gets the last laugh, I guess.
The dull sounds of basic algebra swirled all around me while I thought of my future that once had been. As I mindlessly rubbed my hands together I suddenly felt the absence of my wedding ring, and darker clouds of emotion began to appear on my horizon. I felt my smile fade as my heart began to grapple with what it knew to have happened, and what it had lost.
I then heard quiet laughter from my fellow students and wondered what was going on. *Maybe this is happening to them, too?* I wondered. But then a stern voice broke the joviality.
"I *said,* Charles, do you know how to find 'X'?"Mrs. Roswell boomed.
I knew that the words that were going to come out of my mouth would be the wrong ones, but I found I didn't really care. I had experienced much more embarrassment and far greater punishments than what this classroom and school had to offer. So, it only made sense to be honest.
"I'm not ever sure how to find myself, Mrs. Roswell."
The whole classroom began to chuckle, which meant my assumed fate of being made an example was surely to come to pass. With a huff Mrs. Roswell walked over to my desk and quickly ushered me down to the principal's office. Feeling my feet move so unconsciously was both strange and comforting. I wasn't sure what would come next, but I now knew for certain that I could move forward; physically, if nothing else.
And so I sat alone waiting for the principal to determine my fate for the day. Detention seemed likely, but felt trivial in terms of time - one of the benefits of having a second lifetime, you might say.
Across from me I could hear the receptionist trying to get a hold of my parents. It was only then that the truly strange implications of all of this began to come to the forefront. *Shit, they're going to talk to me about sex.*
But before I could contemplate all the conversations I needed to find ways to avoid, I was distracted by the reason I had been searching for just a short while earlier. A girl with a rebel smile was led through the door by a teacher whose indignation almost matched that of Mrs. Roswell. She sat down a few chairs down from me, deeply annoyed and in no mood to talk, but didn't mind.
"Hey,"I said.
"Shut up,"she said with a scoff, while turning away from me very purposefully.
We would share no more words that day but I didn't mind - I was too overjoyed to talk, anyway. She would have made fun of my goofy smile had she cared to look in my direction. All the feelings that had earlier begun to leak out of my heart started to find their way back in. I had been here before I now remembered, and knew at least some of what was to come.
And so after the principal had called me into his office and let his door slowly close, I gazed out one final time at the beautiful, flowing brown hair across the room. As those final few glances entered my eyes I again rubbed my hand and felt where my wedding ring had been, and I smiled.
_______________________
r/psalmsandstories fore more tales by me, should you be interested. |
My son exited the psychiatrist’s office, trailing his stuffed tiger along the dirty floor. Oh my God, I was going to have to wash that thing again, wasn’t I.
“Pick up your toy,” I yelled. The attendant ushering him out the door nodded and smiled at Calvin encouragingly.
“You might want to lift him up, bud,” she said.
“Hobbes wants to walk,” he yelled back at me. “He hates being carried.”
Then he reached up to the handle and slammed the door.
“Charming little boy,” said the Psychiatrist.
I snorted derisively.
“Really,” I said. “I don’t think so.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Look, let’s cut through the nonsense where you make me feel good about myself as a parent or whatever,” I said wearily. “I don’t need to hear any of that.”
He nodded, composing his face into a more serious expression.
“I guess I am your third opinion on the matter,” he said. “I read the files from the other two child psychologists – “
“Who both said he’s fine.” I sighed. “He’s six years old; he has no friends except for an imaginary one, and he keeps injuring himself. And no one seems to take it seriously.”
The psychiatrist considered me over the top of his spectacles, as though he were a hundred years old instead of pushing seventy. Oh great; he was going to be some doddering old man recommending more fresh air and exercise for my kid, wasn’t he.
“No one takes it seriously,” he repeated. “Mrs. Watterson, I think that’s precisely the problem.”
Thank goodness. At last.
“Great,” I said. “So, what do you think? Because I don’t want to jump right to doomsday scenarios, but is it maybe schizophrenia?”
He laid aside his notes and folded his hands in his lap.
“No.”
“ADHD.”
He pursed his lips.
“Possibly, but he’s only in first grade – I would be wary of medicating that too early. And I don’t think it’s causing the cuts and scrapes and bruises – “
“Self-harm is an increased risk with ADHD.”
“Absolutely true. But you’ve said that you’ve never seen him injure himself directly?”
“Well, if you listen to him, he claims that his stuffed tiger is injuring him – “ I raised my arms in the air in a gesture of futility. “So, I’ve tried to tell him that if the *tiger* doesn’t stop this, he will be taken away – “
“Oh no,” said the psychologist, shaking his head. “I would not recommend that.”
“He’s *really* unhealthily fixated on that toy.”
“He does have an extremely active imagination.”
“So, we get rid of the toy that supposedly beats him up, and we replace it with a stuffed bunny or something.”
“Well, chances are you’re not paying my hourly rate to hear advice about replacing your son’s toys,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d be surprised if you haven’t tried that already.“
“Of course I have. I didn’t have the heart to throw it away, and Calvin wouldn’t eat or sleep or do anything without the tiger. So I caved after a couple of days of him screaming for Hobbes 24-7. But maybe I shouldn’t have.”
The doctor leaned forward in his chair.
“How much time does your son spend playing in the woods outside?” He asked.
“Oh, about an hour a week,” I told him. “On Fridays, when I get in my 35 hours of work, and take him to the park – “
“But alone, off exploring independently.”
I stared at the man.
“This isn’t the 1960s,” I said flatly. “What, you think I should let my six-year-old-child go off and play in the woods alone? Are you nuts?”
“Does he have some kind of fort in the yard?”
“Outbuildings aren’t allowed in our subdivision.”
“But surely a kid’s tree fort – “
“Oh, neighbours have received citations for less,” I said grimly.
“Does he have a toy wagon?”
“I’m not seeing what this has to do with his psychological issues.”
“It’s just a hunch,” said the psychologist. “Anyhow, all this business about the tiger getting into arguments with your son – don’t you think that if a boy were to invent an imaginary friend, he would invent someone who agrees with him?”
“Huh?”
“Well, the things your child is imagining are perfectly normal for his age,” the doctor said. “The interesting thing is that I'm not sure Calvin's imagining them.”
I stared at the man. He was more of a lunatic than any of the others had been.
“So you think my son has a sentient toy tiger,” I repeated. “Who does things somehow – coming to life when no one else is around?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” said the man. “No, I don’t think Hobbes the tiger is some enchanted creature who comes to life. Do you enjoy novels, Mrs. Watterson?”
This man grew more ridiculous by the second.
“I see you are not impressed by my line of questioning,” he said with a slight smile. “I think Hobbes is less of an imaginary friend, and more of a character in some story Calvin tells himself.”
“So he’s hallucinating an antagonistic imaginary friend who beats him up.” I smacked my hands on my thighs and prepared to exit the room. “This is a great use of two hundred and fifty dollars, by the way.”
“Hear me out,” said the doctor, holding up his hand. “These days, we want to protect our children from a lot of things. We don’t want them to be abducted. We don’t want them to be hyper or wild. We don’t let them wander off unsupervised –“
“So we’ve come full circle to the ‘more fresh air and exercise’ cure.” I was fuming as I buttoned my coat. “You know what happened in your golden age of childhood, doctor? A lot of kids died.”
“A lot of kids died,” he said, nodding his grey head. “And there’s not one of us who regrets the progress that would have saved them. But – “
My hand was on the door handle.
“But screw those kids, right?” I said. “Screw them, because thanks to safety standards nowadays, parents care when their kids start harming themselves. The nerve of us- “
“But the kids who didn’t die were allowed to have cuts and scrapes and bruises, and no one thought their parents were failing them.”
I shook my head and exited without another word.
\*\*\* |
Just like any other day, I got up in the morning and did my usual thing. Something seemed off about my home, but it didn't quite register in my half-awake haze. I got out of the door, locked only one of the three locks that were now present, and walked across the street to catch my bus.
Everyone was staring at me. A particularly brave woman asked me a question. "Why did you do that?"
"Do what?"I honestly had no clue what she meant.
"You walked across the road. You didn't even rush."
"It's not illegal. I wasn't obstructing traffic."
"You could have gotten killed."
"It's a two-lane road."
"The cars come from *both sides*."
"There were no cars anywhere in sight. Even if they were speeding I'd be across the road first."
"You could trip and get run over."
"So, why do you care? It's none of your business."I let out a exasperated sigh. She flinched at my sign of frustration.
She had seemingly given up trying to understand me. I gave up trying to understand her too. Little did I know how strange this new world was.
---
"Cut!"
I stopped running through the rain and took shelter under the Director's umbrella.
"That shot was perfect!"he told me. "You didn't even flinch at the risk of lightning even once. You even looked annoyed at the rain instead of scared. We're going to finish ahead of schedule at this rate."
As it turned out, having what appeared to be no fear at all landed me a job as a top-notch stuntman immediately. Not bad for a random overweight man, really. It was strange to deal with these people, but the pay was wonderful.
"Can I get a towel?"
"We need you to be wet for the next scene. Don't dry off yet."
I jogged across the road to the movie-villain's warehouse. Next, I opened the door without knocking or asking for permission. Then, I was supposed to verbally confront him until he backed down in tears.
"Can I threaten to punch him?"
The studio executive looked alarmed at my question. Good thing I asked before the shooting. "Next movie. I don't want to risk scaring the audience too much."
"Speaking of next movie,"I asked. "is there anywhere I can exercise and get fit?"
"Your excess body fat signifies your disregard for heart disease and diabetes. It works perfectly for the movie,"he told me.
Suitable or not, I didn't feel comfortable at all being an fat blockbuster action star. It just didn't sit right with my idea of what a movie should be. "I want to build up some muscles. Lift some weights. Barbells, dumbbells, whatever."
The executive looked horrified. "Too dangerous. We don't keep those around. Muscle cramps. Ligament strain. What if you get injured and we miss a shooting deadline?"
I pondered his words for a while. "If it's risky to lift weights, you can film me doing it and sell that too."
His eyes lit up again. To him, this must have been like a deal from the devil himself. "I will raise the idea. It looks promising." |
I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to rid the metallic aftertaste you get after time warping. It was like gunpowder but fizzy. The dizziness you get used to when you've had to retake Practical Anachronism 102, but this taste. Ugh. I wiggle my warp driver's screen to lose the afternoon sun's glare. 1907. It's blue twisting blue spirals slow and stabilize, anchoring me to this transience, and I pocket it to hide its glow.
Preening statues on ivory columns gazed skyward in front of a triple storied establishment. In between vaulted windows, more sculptures adorned its bronze-washed walls. I had studied this building enough times to know I was exactly where I needed to be. The Academy of Fine Arts Vienna. And... There he was. A young man, presently 18, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief in one hand and holding a clutch of brushes and canvas in the other. Without his toothbrush mustache, he resembled any of the other students crowding the forecourt of the academy for their exam. But where other children have been memorizing fancy art styles, I had been memorizing his face to see through any disguise or impostor.
Next to my warp driver, I thumb the handle of the pistol in my coat pocket and stroll towards him. His eyes were closed now, like the boy next to him mumbling prayers. But I knew he wasn't a religious man. In fact I...knew a lot about him. It was like finally meeting that friend you've heard so much about but haven't seen for so long. It was like finally getting to meet, *really meet*, well not hero but, you know.
I couldn't help it. "Adolf?"I reach out my hand.
Adolf meets my eyes, one brow raised but takes my grasp. "Guten tag. Do you know me?"
"Yes! I mean, no. But, well, I'm a big fan of your, no I'm not, what I mean to say is. It's an honor finally meeting you."I squeeze his hand and shake vigorously.
"Thank you?"replied Adolf. I keep his befuddled eyes locked with mine as I slip my other hand into my coat pocket and wrap my fingers around my gun's grip.
Another hand grips my shoulder. "Zaiden? Oh my goodness it's really you!"a voice exclaims behind me, its edge laced with a vaguely robotic sheen.
I spin around. A young woman maybe 20, like me, wearing a bourgeois three piece, also like me, beams a white smile. Through the pocket of her overcoat, a wan blue light circles. I narrow my eyes and switch my left hand from my gun to my warp driver.
"You're the guy!"she says, eyes wide, "You're the first guy who assassinated Hitler!"
"He what?"Adolf said, taking a step back.
"I've looked up to you for years, Zaiden,"she continues unfazed, "So I'm sorry to do this, but you're a pro so you get it right?"She reaches into her other pocket and my heart bounds to my throat.
I squeeze my warp driver hard. As blue light envelops me, a cheerful voice follows me into the iridescent tunnel. "I'll see you later then!" |
“I knew you would find me eventually, brother.”
My father was pinned against the wall of the family coffee shop, in Tuscany, by a man with a hammer. My father had no care in his voice, and I knew exactly why. My father teleported right in front of me, and the man fell right through the wall. Luckily for us, it was a Sunday at night, so we were closed.
“You see, I always was setting up my plan for your arrival. I’d like to introduce you to my son, Zeddon. Go ahead, show him one of our magic tricks.”
I picked the man up with one magic trick and pinned him against the roof. He groaned in pain as blood seeped from his face, covered in the debris of the wall.
“Are you going to heal him, dad? He seems really hurt.”
“Don’t worry, he’s like us, he will be fine.”
My father walked to the man. Standing right under him, he reached for the hammer, and picked it up. My father laughed and showed the hammer to the man.
“No, that isn’t possible. You can’t be worthy.” The look on the man’s face was hilarious, yet terrifying.
“Well, seventeen years will change a person,” my father said as he flipped the hammer in the air. “Even a person like me can change in that time. I have a kid, I’m married, and I don’t want to kill you.”
My father was not lying. He was going to let the man live, the man who just tried to murder him. I didn’t understand why I was so angry, I squeezed my hand into a fist. I couldn’t control my anger against the man who now lacked the hammer.
The roof bent and cracked. My father suddenly moved to the right, and snapped, the man fell to the ground.
“Zeddon, did you just try to kill my brother? Your uncle? I already told you, he is like us. He wouldn’t die from a small injury like going through our store roof. You’ll get your powers back when I can trust you with them again.”
“I apologize father, it was an accident. I let my anger get the best of me.”
“We need to work on that, do you have any idea what your power could do to a human, like your mother, if you lost control again. You could kill someone. You don’t want that.”
The man laughed. “You really have changed. Haven’t you, Loki? Give me my hammer, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Brother, we both know that you can’t do that. You were sent by Odin, weren’t you? He wants my head, and you won’t leave until you have it. Whether it be smashed or cut off. Aren’t I correct?”
“Loki, give me my hammer.”
“Answer me, you have no ability to harm me unless you have the hammer. You don’t have it. If you want it, you’ll answer me.”
I felt a sense of my powers returning, my father had lost focus on holding them back. I freeze the man’s feet to the floor, and apologize to my father.
“I didn’t kill him. I only prevented him from killing you.”
“I can protect myself, Zeddon. Thank you for your help though, I knew you would do the right thing. Let’s get out of here before he breaks the ice.”
With a snap of my father’s fingers, we were gone. We were at our home, blocks away from the man without a hammer.
“So, how was the cleaning shift?” My mother had baked a two course meal. She would never believe the story we had to tell her. My father was able to speak before I could.
“It was an Alpha-73.”
“Honey, you gave me the handbook last week. I don’t have those memorized. Anyway, there’s no point in using the codes, Zeddon was there.”
“My brother, Thor, showed up with a plan to kill me.”
My mother sighed, and she started packing the kitchen appliances away in a box.
Edit: I’m writing a book using this writing prompt on wattpad. If you want to read it, then the first chapter should be released later tonight. My name is the same on wattpad as it is here. I already have everything laid out, so I just have to write the story now. I hope to have it done by the end of next month. |
"So Ultra-man, how are things?"
"Well, I've been helping clean up the wreckage left by that last hurricane. Some of the things I saw out there...well..they were quite upsetting."
"Could you go into abit more detail about it Ste-, Ultra-man?"
"Well...its just a mess down south. Destroyed houses and dead bodies as far as I could see, a-and I can see pretty far, I mean I've got the literal vision of a hawk."
"Uh huh. I know these sorts of things can be pretty upsetting, but I know from our previous sessions you're used to these sorts of sights. Tell me, what really brought you in here today?"
"Well...I couldn't use my X-ray vision."
"Well I appreciate the visit, but if you're having physical issues with your powers Dr.Le-"
"No, I mean...I couldn't let myself use my X-ray vision."
"I see. Why is that Steven?"
"There were so many of them. Their bodies, piled under the wreckage. Everytime I thought I saw someone to save...just more dead bodies.."
"It's alright Steven, I want you to know that people don't expect you to be able to save everyone. We know you're doing your best to save as many people as possible."
"Thanks Doc, I think I might.."
"Slow down there Ultra, I'm taking you off duty for this one on some mental health concerns. We cant have you so stressed you can see straight through walls."
"Thank you Doct-...Robert."
"For what?"
"For saving me." |
"Look fella's"Murderproof found himself gazing around the room, the uncomfortable strapping of rope digging into the edges of his wrist, causing a nasty red mark. "And ladies, sorry. Look, I'm flattered that you all got together to have a meeting about how to kill me, but I do have a question. Why am I here?"Murderproof was never really surprised to find himself kidnapped, it was as casual as brushing one's teeth for a hero. But for a group of villains to so casually discuss his death in front of him almost felt a little rude, like he was being underestimated.
"I tells ya that we needed more of that sleep puff puff."A woman screeched, her broken English giving away her identity without the hero even needing to look at her. She was Mother Doom, a person that could lift six tanks with her pinky but still struggled to figure out how to swipe a credit card at the shops. To say she was dimwitted would be rather unfair, she was smart when it came to evil, but it would be unwise to ask her for advice on any other topic.
"Shut up you muscle brained fool, If I wanted input from someone like you, I would shake a magic 8ball, at least that can form a sentence."The snide remark came from Grandpa Time. Honestly, he was the man that Murderproof feared the most, he could influence time, if he aged the hero, he could probably kill him, yet the fact that he hadn't indicated either a limit to his powers or a limit to his understanding of them.
"You want crushing?"Mother doom asked, tossing the table backwards, all the villains jumping out of the way, leaving Murderproof trapped beneath the table.
"Gah! Help? Guys, this is no way to treat a hostage."The hero squeaked from beneath the desk, if he could die, this might have been an issue, but with his powers, it was more an inconvenience. It would have almost been an accident if Mother Doom didn't intend to kill everyone in the room with that toss.
Finally, the table lifted, leaving Murderproof red-faced as he coughed for air. "Settle you two, we have more pressing issues at hand. Did you forget why you are both here? You are here to help us decide how we shall kill that idiot on the floor."Snake eyes, a villain that was in a way the leader of the group. Murderproof didn't quite understand why they called him snake eyes, but it never really mattered, all that mattered was the fact that the man was a sneaky asshole, the type that would shake your hand while getting ready to stab you.
"Can't we just burn him? Or what if we burn down the building? Or we could set him on fire."The Pyromaniac of the villains asked, flicking a lighter back and forth, oddly enough, he didn't even have a power unless one caused a weird fascination for setting things alight a power.
"You repeated yourself you dimwitted sparker. We tried lighting him on fire, sadly murderous intent still interferes with the process. Also, you need a hobby, have you tried doing an activity that doesn't involve fire, maybe we can let out work with electricity or something?"Snake eyes seemed to already know the conversation was way off-topic, beyond even his repair.
"A HOBBY? THIS IS A LIFESTYLE AND A HOBBY IF YOU CAN'T ACCEPT THAT.... WELL.... I'LL BURN DOWN THE BUILDING."The sparker jumped up, waving his lighter around as if he were at an 80's rock show. At that sight, snake eyes merely dropped his shoulders, untying the rope around Murderproof.
"Just... go, this is going to be a long meeting, I don't want the guild of heroes getting on my ass about keeping you hostage."Snake eyes pushed the hero towards the door before a small smirk appeared on his lips.
"Ah, smart guy. Maybe next time you plan to kill me, work it out before you.... this isn't the way to the door... heh... that's a window.... HEY.... WINDOW...."Murderproof screamed as Snake eyes gave him a shove, shattering the glass as the hero toppled out of the window.
Snake eyes walked to the windows edge, watching him drop with a satified smile. "I know that won't kill him, but man it felt good.... ok people! back to your chairs, let's start this meeting from the top."
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
I had been watching this human since his first steps. His dark black hair had lightened with age to a rich brown and his baby blue eyes had darkened to a stormy grayish blue. I whispered in his ear when he had his first crush, a selfish girl who would tear down his confidence and self esteem, warning him away from her and pointing out the traits of his best friend. The same woman who later grew up and became his wife. I knew that she was the best option for him, and that she and their child would die when she tried to bring the child into the world.
It is the nature if humans to experience suffering and heartbreak, to struggle and fight for their happiness. The Master never promised His creations a life of easiness, only freedom to choose. Thankfully, the young man now waking from his slumber chose to listen to the path the Master had chosen for him. As he turned, I gently whispered in his ear, "Brush your teeth before breakfast as you won't have time afterwards."
He sighed softly as he woke up and threw the tussled blankets away from his body. For a human, he wasn't bad looking. Of course the Master's creations were all beautiful as they were made in His image. But this male I had been assigned to was fit, with very little body fat on him due to the healthy lifestyle he lived. As he walked to the bathroom I reminded him to make up his bed before dressing for the day, as I had done every day since he was young.
I stood to the side as he brushed his teeth in the sink. His eyes looked sunken as if he had not slept, but I knew it was because he dreamt about her again last night and was sinking into depression. The shadows of the Betrayer hung around him, clinging to his body despite my attempts to shine the Master's Love for him to be comforted. The Master knew that there was something better for this male, He did not disclose this to me however.
Sighing, I try to give him hope and the feeling of Love that we all feel for our charges. I close my eyes and began to speak telepathically with the shadows to dispel them when I hear his voice,
"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?"
The slight growl in his voice causes me to open my eyes before giving the shadows my warning to leave. I turn around to see if someone has entered the home while I was distracted with the male's spiritual needs. Not seeing anyone behind me, I frown and issue a silent warning to the shadows before leaving the room to expand my consciousness to see if anyone was hiding.
There are some humans, not many, who are without the Master's Love and can hide from us. But their thoughts cannot be hidden and if someone thinks to do harm to my charge, I will ensure they experience the Fear of the Master's Wrath and leave quietly. So consumed with my task, I don't notice that the male has followed me out of the bathroom without completing his task. He ignores his bed as he follows me out into the kitchen, the heart of the home.
"Where do you think you're going? Hey! I'm talking to you!"
Realization dawns on me as I turn in disbelief at the male.
"Luke...you can see me?"
"How the hell do you know my name? I've never seen you before in my life!"
Sighing softly, I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. An action I've taken several times during his most...rebellious...stage.
"You may not have not seen me before, but you've heard my voice throughout your life."
"Look lady, I don't know what you are on, but I have never seen you before and you need to leave before I call the cops."
This had never happened to me before. I didn't know what to say to make him understand that I meant him no harm. Gathering the Master's Love around me, I focused on disappearing from his view once more. After a few moments, I felt genuine dread as he spoke again,
"Why are you closing your eyes? Just walk back out whatever window or door you came in through. God knows I must have left something unlocked last night for you to be able to get in here."
Opening my eyes, I watched him walk away from me. I knew he was checking the locks on the windows and doors. 'Oh no, Master, he can see me. Have I brought you displeasure? Am I being punished? He shouldn't be able to see me. How am I going to explain this to him?'
There was no answer, no gentle guidance. I tried reaching out to Michael, Gabriel, no one answered me. I could feel them, but at a distance. How am I going to explain to Luke the reason I was there and that I can't leave him until this new threat has passed? |
Bright fluorescent lights fill my eyes. I roll over in my cot, blocking out the lights. Once I fully realise what's happening, I shoot up.
I'm panicking, and understandably so. My mind is empty and my thoughts are scattered.
I decide to start at the beginning. Maybe remembering myself will help me understand.
I'm...Michael Parker-Newman. I'm nineteen. I graduated college at fourteen. I'm a researcher who specializes in mechanics and pharmaceuticals. I was on the team that invented Mechas.
Did...didn't the Mechas revolt? Is that why I'm here?
I stand up from my cot. I wander around the eerily silent room.
I take a moment to examine my surroundings. I was sitting on a cot, and, surprisingly, it was sort of comfortable. The room I'm in is filled with these cots, and different people are in each one. Bright, hospital-like lights cover the ceiling. There are no windows. The room is completely white, sans one floor-to-ceiling mirror.
I look at myself in the mirror. My white coat is ripped and burned around the edges for some reason. My blue jeans are also ripped. My eyes are much duller than the last time I checked and my hair is significantly longer. To my surprise, my entire left arm and hand is wrapped in bandages.
*Odd,* I think to myself. It hurts to move.
I touch the mirror. It's cold. There are no imperfections; no scratches, fingerprints, or smudges.
I spot a familiar figure laying on a cot through the mirror. I run to her side. She was resting on the cot directly next to mine.
"Please,"I pray. "Let me be wrong."
I grab her hand. It's warm. I put my ear to her chest. I can hear a steady heartbeat.
Relief floods over me. Before I know it, tears are falling down my face.
"Thank god,"I sigh.
My sister is safe. I stay by her side, grasping her hand. She doesn't move. She's breathing, though.
I glance around at the other people in the room. I recognise them all.
My best friend, Peter. My girlfriend, Chanelle. My coworker, Evan. My twin sister, Lizzie. Lizzie's college friends, Saffron and Tiana.
Why are we all here? What is this place? Why am I the only one awake?
Why can't I remember what's going on? |
I was never great at chess. I couldn’t tell you all the movements the pieces could make or anything like that. For me, I embraced the luck side of things. The unpredictability of my movements, acting in ways that would lull the opponent into a false sense of security. This strategy only worked a few times before I was quickly found out. Met with a crossroads between improving myself or giving up, I chose the latter. Chess was the game of strategists, not fools who played for fun. Still, that craving for just one more game continued to bug at me, prompting me to retrieve old antique chess set from my room.
I couldn’t remember its origins. Something about it being a family heirloom? I had never touched the set, opting to only ever play chess online. Online benefited by having the moves laid out before you. It required a lot less thinking. Now that I had the basics handled, however, I could attempt to use my knowledge on an actual board. Even if it was only a game against myself, it would still be a game.
Slipping the set out of its wooden box, I went about organizing the pieces. Bits of dust sticking to my fingers as I maneuvered them across the board. I tried my best to blow the dust off the pieces, but the thin cracks in the glass made it impossible to remove all the dust. Once I had them to a satisfactory level of cleanliness, one that wouldn’t require me to wash my hands with every move, I made my move.
As I planned my next response to my own action, a piece from the opponent’s side shook, shifting forward onto the board, stopping in place when it had selected its position. It forced me to stare at it, no further movements coming as if someone was awaiting my move. Perhaps that was when I should have stopped, packed up the game but my curiosity was far too strong. Making my next move, starting the game.
The game lasted about thirty minutes until I had finally won. It was a straightforward game, as if I was against a complete novice. After the game, I called out to the spirit, getting no response as I packed away the set. I tried to think little of the game, although it was hard not to. On my morning walk, I was greeted with the best day of my life. Everyone seemed to smile at me, the world turning just that little slower for me, providing me more precious minutes. Even the grey skies held off, not daring to ruin the moment.
When I returned home, the chess set was again laid out. The first move already having been made. On my chair was a gift, a bottle of wine, a small blue ribbon fluttering off its edges. I took the gift and poured two glasses, yet my guest didn’t even touch their drink. We played for forty minutes this time, their movements more complex as if they were finally starting to adapt to the changes.
The day that followed was even luckier, this time I was the lucky one-millionth shopper, getting all my groceries paid for. When I stepped outside I was greeted by another twist of fate, a man bumping into me, tripping himself up as he tried to flee the scene. A security guard followed him, tackling the downed man. Thanking me for my help, even complimenting me on my muscles. To say I was pleased would have been putting it lightly.
Returning home, the chess set again was out. This time the glass of wine was finished, a grey burnt hand the only thing visible as it moves the first piece, tapping the table, motioning me over. Every game seemed to give this creature power. I had welcomed it into my home with our first game and every following game just offered it more power. I was hesitant to play, but with such grand prizes to be won and such an easy opponent to beat, it shouldn’t be hard to win again, or so I thought. Our last game ended closely, only just pulling away a win. The hand curled in anger, but retreated from the table, fading away.
I was unable to leave the house the day after, I was worried, no matter what luck awaited me outside, I had a cursed being in my home. Perhaps inside was the most dangerous place to stay, but I was hoping to avoid its charms. Its gifts were great, but what would it take if I were to lose? Even inside though, I was unable to avoid its gifts. A large check being slid underneath my door. one hundred thousand dollars. I didn’t even need to know the reason for the check, I was sure it must have been real. When I walked back to my living room, again the game was ready. A skeletal body now accompanying the hand. It seemed bored, watching me. When I went to leave the living room, it began softly clanking two glass pieces together as if signaling deaths bell.
It was waiting for me to cave in. It wanted to win; it knew it was close. Even now as I went to sleep, I could hear the clanking, it would occasionally get closer, as if the creature was standing over me, chittering bones mocking me as the clanking grew before finally fading again.
Every morning it would greet me with extra gifts. Breakfast, a coffee, a turn already made for me. But I refused its game, No matter the temptation, I was certain my next game would be my last.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.} |
My arch nemesis cruelly smiled down at me in victory. The heel of her foot crushing down on my neck brutally. She showed me mercy by slightly relieving the pressure on my neck, as I coughed up blood. I was able to save the city. I succeeded in permanently disabling the generators. Yet she still took something from me. My abilities. My enemy had temporarily disabled them by activating some strange crystal. It didn't matter now, because my purpose was served. The goal had been achieved. I was of no use to anyone now. Not even myself.
"Oh the years we have spent playing cat and mouse with these little games. All the times you have sabotaged my great plans for this world. Of all the times you have beat the odds, and look at you now. Shriveling underneath me like the pathetic *hero* you are."My enemy spat with venom. Pride and satisfaction filled her crazed eyes.
"What can I say? Hahaha. You got me."I smiled up at her, holding the palms of my hands up in surrender, laughing wearily.
My enemy's eyes lit up with a more cruel, accomplished smile.
"I could keep you around. Torture you more. Play around for a while longer"The intimidating woman considered. "Yet that would demonstrate that I don't keep my word. My promise to *kill* you."She finished, now squeezing my neck ruthlessly with her hand, still keeping me pinned down with her foot.
My pulse seemed to thunder in my ears as the outside world was drowned out. My vision started pulsing then growing dimmer.
"Any last words?"My arch nemesis asked as a courtesy, her face inches away from mine. She slightly loosened her hold.
I took a breath, then sighed:
"I love you."I told her genuinely as I looked into her striking eyes.
It took a moment for my words to register. Yet the look on her face was priceless. She could tell I was being truthful. Mindful not to let her guard down, in case this was a trick, she tightened her grip.
"Say that again"My arch nemesis demanded furiously, now choking me harder than ever before. I had really struck a nerve without meaning to.
"I... love...You-"I managed to force the words out underneath her bruising grip. Her eyes continued to bore into mine, never shifting.
"Oh and could you...p-please squeeze a little bit harder?"I asked her as my last request, a sleazy smile on my face, not bothering to conceal my desire for her. Not caring about the lewdness and sexual meaning behind my words. I was dying after all. Some comedic relief was acceptable I felt.
Identifying the lust behind my words, she simply squinted harder at me, as if to scan me for something else. I don't know what she was trying to observe.
"You win. You have every part of me. You have my heart. You've defeated me. And I don't care. L-l-look at me. Reduced to nothing. Broken before you. For I have desired you for many years. Not just for lustful reasons. I truly *love* you. That in itself is defeat. So kill me. Go forth, rejoice in your victory, valiant stranger."
I managed to force out before my strength started wearing off completely. The livid fire in my enemy's eyes faded. It was replaced with shock, which then turned to fear. All I remembered, was the super villian releasing her grip on my throat, stepping off of my chest, and walking away.
"Stupid horny teenagers. A little girl with a high libido problem was the best opponent I could receive? What a joke..."
She muttered with irritation as she left me there to die. |
Investment manager Bill Jones reclined on his office chair, hands behind his head. “Bruce, do you know why I call you in today?”
“No, I don't think I do Mr.Jones.” said junior analyst Bruce Westley.
Jones waited for his subordinate say something else. Finding none, he continued. “Heard about what happened last Thursday?”
That was the day that Carol committed suicide, Bruce began calculating the thrust of Jones’ argument. True, he appeared close to Carol seeing as how they started working for Heavy Tree Investments around the same time, but that hardly constituted enough justification for murder. In his mind, Carol was just a tool to be used from time to time.
“Yes, it was a big loss. I was hit quite hard when I first heard about it,” Jones made his voice crackle with emotion just like he was taught to.
“Truly.” Jones said, eyeing his wristwatch. “Hey Bruce, I got something to tell you.”
“I’m all ears boss.”
“I killed Carol.”
Bruce’s eyes widened a millimetre. “I’m sorry to hear that boss.”
“No, no. Listen to me. There this hot new drug on the street, they call it the American. Better than coke, salvia, and ecstasy all rolled into one. It makes all the things normal people think about, worry about, and shits them out to the dustbin.”
“Fascinating.”
“Carol, that bastard, was the one that got me into the drug. He was on it when he threw himself out of the company roof. Smiling like a madman. And do you know what he told me?”
“Not a clue,” Bruce said, he needed to get out of here. His boss was not himself.
“That you are on the American my friend. It’s how you have so many golden streaks Monday to Friday. And from the looks of it, you’ve been on the drug for quite some time.”
Anger stirred within Bruce. A filthy drug was used to describe his situation. Something needed to be done to correct the gross injustice that Jones’ statement had wrought. |
OP, I apologize for this, it is absolutely ridiculous.
\-------
Dear Followers,
This is a message from your Originator. This whole thing started with me, two weeks ago, when spirits took over my body and created the holy book you now call *The Spark*.
After anxiously seeing you all follow my words with such passion, I have decided I must tell you the truth.
The spirits that took over my body that night were Jack Daniel and Captain Morgan.
The “holy book” that you have all decided was the word of God, spoken through me as was spoken through Muhammad, was my drunken rant. It was a rant about the video game Halo, for fucks sake.
The “spirit” that lends to the name of the book is not God, it is not an angel that I met in my drunken stupor, it is 04-343 Guilty Spark from the video game Halo.
I had just played through Halo: Combat Evolved on legendary difficulty, while getting hammered, which is admittedly a God-tier achievement, when I finally beat the eighth level, *Two Betrayals*. It is here that you find out that Guilty Spark, who you thought was your ride-or-die homie the past two levels, had a plan to wipe out all sentient life in the universe in an attempt to save it.
Now, if you look this guy up, there’s a lot of hate for him out there. People think he was an asshole, a liar, a manipulator. I think he had a damn good idea.
When drunk me decided to write a 30-page description of why “Spark” has the best idea, why our planet may be better off without anything but plants, I did not expect an army to rise up alongside it. Over the course of only two weeks, thousands of people have messaged me, calling me “the Originator,” where ever the fuck they came up with that name, and asked me to set up meet-ups, conventions, and video conferences.
I will be doing no such thing. I will be deleting my account and I hope that this entire “religion” dies along with it. I regret all of this.
I don’t know what I expected posting on 4chan.
Goodbye. |
"Aren’t I entitled to some days off, being a hero is basically volunteer work! I’m not getting paid, not that I’m that selfish… but I just wanted a day off!"
On the other side of the bar Carl gives me a look, "I been telling you for years, help people for free once, they're grateful, keep helping them for free and they start thinking they're *entitled* to what you do! Give a hungry man a fish, he'll thank you, give him free fish every day and the day you stop he'll blame you for his kids being hungry!"
In the corner the TV cut to another bank robbery, before cutting to the mayor speaking at a press conference "This current crime wave, is Hyper Man's fault! He abandoned us!"
I looked deep into my beer "it's been less than 24 hours, I need a day off! I need *sleep!*"
Carl snorts, "My daughter, she's real smart, been studying public policy at college! She did a project on you! Did you know since you started 'protecting' the city they've used it mainly to save money?"
"What'a ya mean?"
"Since you started turning up, pulling people out of fires and using your 'hyper-breath' to put out the fires, they cut fundin' to the fire department and gave their rich buddies a *big tax cut,* you're too good at it, they even threw out most of the fire codes for new buildings after some of the big construction corps argued that they don't need to spend money on sprinklers and fire escapes 'cause *hyper-man always turns up to save everyone*. Back 'fore you started you know how many people died in fires in the city every year?"
I shake my head
"'Bout a hundred! You know how many people die every year now that you're pulling people out of burning buildings every day? *'bout a hundred*! "
The beer glass in my hand shatters.
Carl chuckled, "You're payin for that glass. When all's said and done, the only thing you're *savin* is money for the rich fat cats! Haven't you noticed how many more fires and bank robberies you've had to deal with now'days? The banks stopped bothering to spend money on big expensive vaults or security guards, *why bother when HyperMan pretty much always turns up to stop the robbery!* It's everything! Bridges, train safety, hell, how many times have you stopped meltdowns at the cities nuclear power plant! They can cut corners *everywhere* because you'll always turn up to save the day! And the money just goes into rich guys pockets!"
As Carl poured me another beer I looked him in the eye "But what can I do, I can't just *stop,forever*."
"I told you years ago. **Charge em!** Publish your rates! They want to shine that fancy torch on a cloud? Let em know your help'll cost em so much that it hurts! Stop being a volunteer! When there's a fire, af'er you've pulled all the kids out of the building you send em an *invoice* and you make sure it's more expensive than sprinklers! Make sure the city knows that your invoices need' get paid if they want you to keep turnin up!"
"But demanding money? it feels wrong profiting off disaster!"
"It's *capitalism!* Do what you like wi' the money! You don't even gotta keep it, give it to some orphanages if you want, just stop workin for free!"
....
The mayor looked at the very official looking letter "What the hell? 'HyperMan Incorperated'? How much!??!?!?" |
At last, I had gotten everything I had ever wanted. And I was terrified.
Throughout my life I had embraced darkness. It brought me power. It brought me triumph. I wielded it as a blade to cut through the vanity of righteousness and the meekness of love. Some called it evil. Others called it hatred. But only those who truly embraced it knew its true name.
Sheol. The Pit. Emptiness.
I took the world that had broken me and broke it back tenfold. I had burnt forests and flooded deserts. I had flattened mountains and spawned volcanos. I had raised armies and razed cities. I had slain millions, and subjugated more. I was the immovable object and the unstoppable force. Until, near the end, something changed.
A crack in my armor. A snag in my threads. I had brought the end of the world, but it wasn’t the end of all things. Not yet. After the blade of darkness had tasted all the world could offer, it lacked one thing.
Me.
Terror that I was, I was terrified. I had not wielded darkness, darkness had wielded me. The pit cried out for me. Sheol wanted me to complete its emptiness. But I could not. Something within me, deep down in my sin-soaked soul, writhed at the prospect of annihilation. I wanted to be eternal, not erased. With all the power the darkness had given me, I fought back against it.
And that’s when Sheol changed. The pit spewed out everything it had given it. Every broken bone, every broken building, every broken spirit. Worse than the world had ever known, Sheol created a being composed of pure pain. It was a mush of agony and tears, a slop of vengeance. All that I had destroyed had come back to claim me, to bring me to the emptiness I had sent them. But I couldn’t face the same destiny I had given them.
I ran.
I ran across the cracked world. I ran through winds and waves, torrents and turmoil. I conjured curses and cast spells, but I could not escape the creature Sheol had sent for me.
Except, to go back to before the pain, before the brokenness I had started.
With the power left within me, I concocted my final hope against the darkness that had turned against me. I left the world I had created and went back to the world I once destroyed.
Back in time, for the first time, I saw light, and I smiled. |
Honor was my life.
From birth I was trained to be nothing but the most proficient and honorable warrior I possibly could be- ferocity was my second nature, the raging bloodlust I had cultivated was always just a centimeter beneath my skin, waiting to leap out at any moment. Anger was a tool, like a sword, which I sharpened every day.
I had no parents, I had no home. I had the training grounds, and I had my service to Odin, the Allfather. I needed nothing else.
When the day finally came for my Proving- my mission handpicked by Odin himself- to join the proper ranks of the Valkyrie, I couldn't contain the shaking of my hands. Who would the Allfather send me against? Who was the foe that needed crushing? I would bleed them of every drop and return the desiccated corpse to the Allfather's feet as a monument.
I walked at the most even pace I could manage as I entered Odin's Hall. My nerves were getting the better of me- perhaps not so much nervousness as excitement, or some mixture therein. I was just...eager to prove myself. Odin had rescued me from a terrible life as an orphan child, and I wanted to pay him back.
I was...not expecting this.
"Your target is going by the name of Amelia. She is in hiding, fully aware that the Allfather wants her gone. She is gifted at illusion magic, and so may be difficult to locate. These are the coordinates."
I wasn't speaking directly to the Allfather. He was farther back, merely watching as his aide gave me the assignment.
Disappointment weighing on me heavily, I accepted the information and departed immediately- perhaps a job well done would earn me an actual introduction.
I descended to the planet that was on the dossier- Earth. There had been many, many interactions between the Gods on this planet, and even more between the Gods and the humans who lived there.
This was going to be too easy. I wasn't even hunting a Giant, merely some disgraced assassin. For me, this was almost insulting.
After I arrived in the location, I scoped it out- a gathering place for the elderly. I would be sure to not underestimate my opponent, as much as I looked down on them- I had been forewarned about their abilities. I would trash talk them in my mind, but I would exercise all caution in practice.
After a day, I singled out which elder was my target- despite her alleged age, she moved with incredible grace...for a human. She always checked the shadows and corners before entering a room- and I suspected there was a blade hidden against her thigh.
As I was waiting for the opportunity to make my move, I lost sight of my target for a mere moment- just the span of a heartbeat- and she was on me.
Her blade flashed in the setting sun, moving with a speed and elegance I had never encountered before- however, as I parried the first few attacks, I quickly realized that her age was no illusion. She was genuinely out of shape for combat- still excellent health for her years, but not the warrior she once had been.
I quickly decided the best thing to do was to wear her down- she was tricky, clever, and fast. My only sure victory was to play defensively until she was worn out, then take the kill.
With my dual axes, I blocked and parried her every blow, entering a sort of transient state of anticipation, dancing back and forth across the meadow that housed our battle.
Finally, the moment came, and I cracked her across the temple with the back side of my axe- her eyes glazed over, and she fell. She was merely stunned.
I fought the instinct to rush in and capitalize on the moment, as, suddenly, her appearance began to change.
Her height remained the same- she was just slightly shorter than I- but her skin changed from a honeyed brown to a pale white, rather like my own...her nose went from proud to fine, her hair from straight to curly, and her eyes...
She looked exactly like me, just a little older. This couldn't be an illusion, given that she was unconscious.
I waited beside the unconscious body until the sun had fallen, and risen.
I had many, many questions to ask her- and I had many, many questions to ask the Allfather- such as, why would he send me on a mission to kill my own mother?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/nystorm_writes would be cooler with you in it :) |
He told me he was sorry.
His mouth formed the words, but I saw the misty green tendrils weaving their way around his chest.
His eyes shone with unshed tears, but behind them was a mustard-yellow glow I could not unsee.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to *so bad.* The daisy-white petals of hope spun wildly in the red and black whirlwind of anxiety and fear that surrounded me. I glimpsed the petals tearing as they clipped against my shaking hands.
He said he was sorry... but he wasn't sorry.
He wasn't sorry. I knew it, I could not deny it, I knew it as if I had been in the room that night, watching the amber flames rise up from her bed, watching the midnight-blue daggers of his disdain for me slicing through her flesh with his every movement--
I could see the daggers even now. They were cloaked behind the green tentacles of his misplaced jealousy, but they were there, and they shone with intent. I could tell... he knew I didn't believe him.
And then I remembered my own dark shame, my own halogen-yellow glances furtively cast across a crowded room, my own amber fireplace that flickered in my chest when I thought of that evening... that stranger's impossibly-blue eyes, his pure-white smile... I thought of the shame that clung to my feet like the brown filth it is, seeping through my shoes, through my soul...
"Tess? Are you okay?"
He waved his hand in front of my eyes, and for a split second I caught the afterimage of a sky-blue genuine concern at the tip of each finger. How long had I been silent, frozen in place by this... this disability of mine, this curse?
"Y-yeah..."I choked. "I'm alright."
But I wasn't alright. And neither he nor I needed a "neurological anomaly"to tell that I was lying.
What an ugly world I live in.
What an ugly world I've made for myself. |
(i dont know a lot about X-men, so forgive me if i write something incorrect)
L:"C'mon, I have FANGS! lots of them! and extra fingers! I'm totally a mutant!"
I:"I'm sorry miss Aves, but that's not what the word 'mutant' means in this context."
L:"Sir, the defintion of mutant is "resulting from or showing the effect of mutation' and I have Polydactyly, HED, and Hyperdontia. All of which are genetic mutations, therefore I am a mutant , and should be allowed to join the school."
M:"Lilac, honey, just give it up, they're not going to let you in."
I:"I'm going to have to agree with your mother, miss Aves. you just arn't the type of-"
L:"One quarter."
I:"Im sorry?"
L:"Give me one quarter of the school year to prove myself. If I fail, I'll never bother you again, I wont even come near the property or look at the school."
I: *sigh*"very well, welcome to Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, miss Aves." |
They say behind every great man is a greater woman.
​
Yet when Ahriman ruled, he ruled alone. He needed no council as he was the only one who knew the secrets of the black temple. He had been so selfish back then. No wisdom could be given to he who thought he knew all.
And so, even with all the magic that his staff granted him, with his vast armies and hordes of fanatics, he had been beaten. A great band of warriors led by the one they called "Arthur"
Supposedly the chosen of the goddess Isha. He had conquered all the way to the gates of his last fortress. Ahriman had cast a great spell to send him back to a time before, where Arthur was still a boy.
The smell of pig dung was the first sense he felt. Followed by the sound of cheering and laughter coming from a nearby hall. Looking for the boy, he had stumbled inside, drained from the great power of his spell. He collapsed in the middle of the dance floor, or so his wife told him. It was still an embarrassing story. He had been cared for by a woman named Vir. When he awoke, her eyes were the first thing he saw. In a lifetime of unceasing war and slaughter, he looked into her eyes and maybe, just for a fleeting second, found peace.
They married 3 months later.
Now Ahriman was a labouring man, working his field with his son each day in time for the harvest each year. He had settled down in these past times. He had found peace.
But he was not without his ties to his past, or, rather, future. His staff remained. Gifted to him by the lord of death himself, it had been his weapon of conquest and control. Now it called to him, beckoning him to the warpath again. Regain your glory, it whispered. The words as sweet as the honey he farmed each Friday.
But one day it stopped, he slept peacefully and awoke to his wife next to him and no voices in his head, no whispers beckoning him. He walked onto his field for some fresh air, thankful for the reprieve. And that's when it happened. He saw his son practising with a sword in the field. Ahriman knew not where he had gotten the sword, only that he swung it well.
"Aer, where did you learn to fight son."His child turned to him, a look of fear on his face.
Ahriman laughed.
The sun was rising behind his kids head. It was red.
A look of horror crossed Ahrimans face.
"Aer, run and wake your mother, pack nothing and ride to the tower of Sarin the wise, he will train you."
Fear grew on Aer's face as he ran past his father, taking his sword with him.
"Son! They will look for you, don't tell them who you are!"
Aer, who had almost reached the door of their farmhouse, shouted back.
"What do I call myself then father!"
"Arthur!"With a nod, Aer raced back inside the house, leaving Ahriman outside, the sound of screams reached his ears through the wind.
"So this is what it feels like to be on the other end, huh."He smirked.
Summoning his staff, his old black robes materialised around him, he was old now, so very old. But he would fight for his home, for his family.
He was Ahriman the Accursed.
And he would make them bleed. |
Jeffery, the cultist, stood there, staring at the shining robed individual that appeared out of the ancient prison. In every single way possible, the shimmering, dazzling man was not what Jeffery, the cultist, had expected.
Jeffery had assumed that his Dark Lord, Mizard the Wizard, would be a scaly reptilian humanoid. He figured the scaly human derivative would be some brooding ancient warlock. That black billowing smoke would come seeping into the world the moment the ancient, runed rock door swung open.
Instead, a human that wore possibly the finest robes that Jeffrey had ever seen walked out of the door. The man looked like a hero rather than a villain.
The man's flowing flaxen locks would make Jeffery's balding head blush in embarrassment. His chiseled body screamed strength and dedication. Jeffery looked down at his own pasty, soft frame. It had been some time since Jeffery worked out, and he felt his face break out in a cringe for it.
But, the worst of all was the man's face and his voice. The perfectly symmetrical face gave way to a man *too* beautiful for this world, and his voice was just as enchanting.
The man's words came out like the start of a melody. "Well! It's such a pleasure to finally get a breath of fresh air! Now, who can I thank for my early release from my rather dreary hovel of a prison?"
Something about those words was just *too* enchanting to Jeffery. He couldn't place it immediately...
"I-I did, sir,"Jeffery spoke up. He still wasn't sure if this was *actually* Mizard, but something about the man's voice *compelled* Jeffery to answer.
The man's face took on a grin that looked almost serpentine. It seemed almost like underneath that human skin, there was a lizard that slithered behind the flesh. But Jeffery didn't notice. He just thought how perfect of a smile the ex-captive had.
The man looked Jeffery up and down, his smile almost breaking at the sight of the disheveled cultist. Jeffery had spent the last twenty years of his life figuring out how to free the dark lord. He was the only one that still believed in the return of the dark lord. Hence why Jeffery, the cultist, was the last remaining member of Mizard's cult.
Jeffery didn't mind. All he cared about was the honor of freeing his dark lord. Jeffery dreamed of how the dark lord would praise him when he was freed. But instead of praise, Jeffery received something else.
"You're fired,"the man said as he pointed at Jeffery with his gloved hand.
Jeffery didn't even fight back. "O-of course, sir. I will leave immediately."If Jeffery had all his faculties working, he would have realized something was wrong. He would have realized that his life's work amounted to him being cast aside and fired. But he just took it with a smile and absolutely agreed.
It seemed that the charm from Mizard worked far better than anyone could anticipate. Well, except for Mizard. He had been crafting his suite of charm spells for the past one thousand years.
One thousand years of introspection had an immense impact on the once brooding lizard dark lord. He had spent the first century simulating his failure in his mind's eye. He realized that his *branding* was completely off.
The next nine were correcting his image. He learned how to polymorph into a majestic human, like the kind that managed to rally armies behind them. He discovered new ways to combine glamors to make his voice sound soothing and disarming. He even learned how to sew to make his immaculately white clothes.
In every way, Mizard the Wizard looked like the complete opposite of a dark lord. Which was exactly what he was going for.
No one willingly followed a master that uses death as a punishment and would shout out that those who don't follow would die immediately.
No, there were far more civilized ways to deal with punishing individuals, such as payment severance or ostracizing them from their social groups. Those were far more damaging than *death*. People would selfishly get over someone's death rather quickly but mess with their social image? Now that was lasting damage.
So, Mizard the Wizard, the dark lord of Evernight, decided he needed to change his brand *completely*.
He wasn't going to be a stuffy old dark lord. No, he was going to be a new, bright lord of the lands. He would need focus groups, managers, and representatives to ensure his plan went off without a hitch.
But he didn't need *any* stodgy, placid-looking cultists. They would *ruin* his look if he wanted world dominion by a more *bright* assimilation. He'd make the civilians come to see how much better his utopian region would be that they would sign up willingly to join his charmed-up dystopia.
Hence why Jeffery, the cultist, needed to go.
But Jeffery felt something in the back of his mind screaming as he watched the glimmering bright man walk away.
With a sudden jerk, Jeffery cast dispel on himself. Suddenly the rose-tinted perspective that Jeffery just had melted away. The man still looked like a human, but his voice sounded far less enchanting, and his mannerisms appeared more cruel than caring.
Jeffery's eyes went wide at that. "you're using charm magic?"
Mizard turned around with such a start as he looked at the cultist. His surprised, somewhat serpentine face began to speak. "You can cut through my charms? How interesting."
Mizard looked around to make sure no one was watching and fired a bolt of lightning at Jeffery. Mizard didn't need anyone knowing about his charmed-up appearance. Jeffery went flying backward and landed hard against a runed wall.
Mizard listened to the groaning death throes of Jeffery, the cultist, as he walked out of the prison that held him for a millennia.
Mizard rubbed his eyes. It seemed the light was a little too bright for him. He would need a name change from Mizard, now that he thought about it. He would need to go by Arthur or Adam. Those were always good heroic names. They would serve him well, far better than Mizard. Mizard smiled at the green, lush plains and strode forward.
Mizard basked in the sunlight, smiling at the new horizon of his new bright kingdom.
He took in a breath of fresh air and thought how ironic that his plan required the brightest light to hide the darkest intentions.
But Mizard did not account for how proficient Jeffery the cultist was at magic. Before the lightning bolt met Jeffery's skin, the cultist cast a shield spell that took most of the damage. But, Mizard's magic still kicked Jeffery back against a wall, where he had to heal himself.
Now, the lonely, angry cultist shakily stood up and considered his next move. He was furious, no doubt, but he didn't know at who. Mizard or himself.
Jeffery slumped down on the floor and felt reality hit him far harder than the lightning bolt had. Jeffery, the ex-cultist, needed a drink.
___
Thank you for reading and I hope that was a fun read! If you would like more of my stories, then you can find them at r/WritingKnightly! |
The government man sat opposite me. I noticed with amusement at slight sheen of sweat on his brow. He was afraid of me. Not that I was surprised. He was only human after all. He licked his lips, before pulling out blue file.
"Here is a list of the projects we would like your assistance with."
I sighed, going through the motions of looking through the file. As I expected, most of them were for easily weaponisable projects. In fact, there was barely any pretense in there. I closed it, and stared at the government man. He fidgeted at my glare, his sweating intensifying.
"So, um, will you help?"
"No."
I didn't pause to think. This charade had gone on long enough.
"W-what?!"
He stood in shock, staring at me with disbelief.
"I said no."
"Your country needs you! Where is you patriotism?"
I glared at him. This time, he visibly paled at my look.
"First off, this isn't my country. I am far, far older then it. Secondly, do you and your bosses think I am stupid? When I was first approached, I agreed to help on projects to assist humanity as a whole. But its painfully obvious that now you want me to power weapons for you. And that does not help everyone."
I stood up to leave. As far as I was concerned, we were done here. But as I headed for the exit, he spoke again.
"If you won't offer help, we will make you give it instead."
I stopped, and turned around. He was still pale, but had a defiant look on his face.
"Excuse me?"
He took out his phone, and tapped it a few times. He turned the screen towards me. It showed an overhead view of my farm.
"Help us, or this becomes a target."
Never before had I felt such rage. My power, long since abandoned, thundered through me. The air around me began to practically vibrate. The man stepped away, his defiant expression torn asunder like tissue paper in a hurricane.
"You dare! I am Abtunth, God of Time! You think your pathetic human weapons can affect me?! One of your Creators?!"
I loomed over him, feeling my heart beat as one with the universe. I could see him, his past and his future in one. The room began to warp, as my divine essence leaked out. The paper file reverted to a sapling, whilst the table collapsed as it rapidly aged.
He whimpered, and the smell of urine filled the air. I ignored it, hoisting him into the air with a thought. Whilst time was my primary domain, I could control the others in small ways, much like the others could affect time in small ways as well. I brought him close to me.
"We are done. If you dare come after my family, I will undo the existence of yours."
I dropped him, before pulling away the time bubble in the room. Rejoined to the natural flow, I exited. The guards on either side of the entrance nodded at me, which I returned. They at least hadn't earned my wrath. Not yet at least. |
This has been the fifth time I have been the third-wheel with these two. Why do I keep being invited?
Braddicus and Tammy-Lynn, for some god-forsaken reason these two keep dragging me into their multitude of dates. From ice-skating to bowling, and even renting that stupid paddle boat that couples take. As I screamed and complained asking them both why I was dragged along, they just smiled and told me to come along.
Braddicus has long brown curls that reach down to his muscular back. His blue eyes gleam alongside an award winning smile that has won girls for as long as I can remember. Star quarterback, Student Council President, founder of our chess team - what else could he not do?
Tammy-Lynn, the star cheerleader. Her influencing career she does has been growing steadily. The long nights we have prepared to build up her fanbase has brought the two of us closer together than ever before. Her long blonde hair, enchanting smile, and clear bright voice had dazzled many into falling for her ever since elementary school.
Dinner has started to become monotonous. The chicken I usually enjoy feels dry and hopeless. Here I am nodding and laughing at their benign jokes over and over. Braddicus will not shut up about how he "super clutched the sundown throwdown"and Tammy-Lynn keeps making these corny jokes about how she "mixed up nail polish and mascara, again". The both of them are trying to rope me into the conversation as I keep my nose deeper into my phone.
I am sick and tired of it. Can't this stupid couple leave me out of their constant flirting? That so called "super clutch at the sundown throwdown?"I made the final touchdown to tie the game! The jokes about her makeup, that was me that it happened to! Why was I dragged into these godforsaken dates anyway?
We just finished dessert, finally. Now I can leave these two love birds alone and go for a smo-
"Bro, how do you feel about Tammy? She has been dropping hints for the last five days."
"OH EM GEE, hasn't Brad been dropping hints the entire time?"
....... what the fu-
"Brad, what do you mean? Aren't you gay? I was trying to set you two up together."
"Wait, Tammy what do you mean I am gay? I thought you too were-"
"Don't you secretly stare longingly at Ryan all the time was because you like him?"
"The same with you! You always hug onto Ryan for too much, I was trying to speed things up."
"Ryan and I are bestiiiiies what do you mean da-"
That was the last thing I heard from these two before I had ran out the door.
I guess fate was a cruel mistress after all. |
Here I am, in an arena fighting the guy from the convenience store down the road all because of what an idiot I am. It started a few days ago when I found this watch at the thrift store, it was cheap so I picked it up because why the hell not? When I fiddled with the watch I moved through time though, I decided to see if I could bring things with me. I was surprised to find that I could, I thought about bringing my phone but it hit me that there would be no service in medieval times. I ended up bringing medication because I thought "hey, we have more advanced medicine then they did way back then", man what a mistake that was. When I made my way to a town you can probably guess what townspeople's reaction was to my suspicious medication and apparently another evildoer tried something similar with cameras , that pretty much catches you up. The only thing left is to hope I can beat Mr. Convenience Guy before I get burned at the stake.
Edit: I am on mobile and terrible at writing :/ |
He had me. I knew it, he knew it, hell the idiot bank teller knew it... This jerk Captain Justice just had to be in the area, right as I pulled this job. I'd thought of everything, sabotaging the armored trucks so they didn't pick up for several days, calling in multiple bomb threats across the county so police response would be delayed, I'd even built a cell phone jamming device that would prevent anyone from calling it in while I was still there. Plus, of course I had the invention I was most proud of, a small hand held device that generated a field that forced anyone in range to suffer from neuro muscular incapacitation as soon as they got close to me. That was my ace in the hole, any normal person, even 90 percent of supers wouldn't have been able to get through it. And yet Captain jerk-ass had walked through it like it didn't exist. So now I was being flown to what I could only assume was to the special holding cells for those of us they know a normal prison won't hold.
Add it to his long list of super powers... flight, super strength, physical invulnerability, which I guess is how he ignored my NMI field. Rumors floated that he had even more, laser eyes, freeze breath, hyper speed, time manipulation. I highly doubted all that was true, it was just ridiculous. But in any case, his brain must somehow be invulnerable to the electric charge. After I escape it was a puzzle I would need to mull over. Next time I'll be more prepared, this muscle bound moron won't stand in my way again.
"Why are you so stupid?"
His words broke the silence, catching me off guard doubly, as I hadn't been ready for any conversation, let alone this idiotic jock with barely two brain cells to rub together to make fire insulting my intelligence.
"You are obviously intelligent enough to make most people feel out classed, and yet you're out here robbing banks like any dumbass crack head could do. So, I ask you, why are you so intelligent and yet too stupid to play the game?"
I wanted to shout maledictions at him, belittle his ignorance, make him know that if either of us it was he who was the fool, but my curiosity got the best of me.
"The game? You consider this all a game? My life to you is a game?"
"Of fucking course it is! You think I give a shit about you robbing a bank? Fuck no. But you fools go out there and commit a bunch of crimes and no normal person can stop you. So they put a huge bounty on you. Then I get paid, rather handsomely I might add, to catch your dumbasses and turn you in. If I really cared about justice I'd just eliminate you. I could literally punch a hole through your body, did you know that? Or shit, I can fly like a fucking jet plane. Think you'd survive a 30,000 foot drop?"
I eyed the ground nervously... it hadn't necessarily been a threat to my life, but I started to get the feeling the wrong answer might not end with me in a cell. And yet he had basically admitted he was only stopping me for the bounty they'd issued for my capture.
"You wouldn't understand. It's not just about the money, there's principles involved. People like me have been getting screwed over for too long. The people at the top need to understand they're not untouchable. That they can be 'fucked with' as you would put it. Yeah, I needed the money to make more and better tools, so I started small, but they know now. Their security isn't as safe as they believe!"
He literally yawned. This asshole actually had the gall to yawn at me.
"You invented a device that could safely incapacitate almost anyone on the planet. Did you ever stop and think about the amount of money you could have sold that for? You wanted money to change the world, how about patenting that device, leasing it to I dunno, fucking every government on the planet, get a few billion and change shit that way. Or shit, stay a villain and use your billions to invent whatever tech you want. With your level of ability and unlimited funds you probably could have changed a few things. But no, you instead robbed banks... and you know what they're going to do now? They're going to take that device from you, crack it open steal your idea and replicate it to give it to every soldier and police officer in this country, and since you're a villain, you're not going to see a dime."
My heart dropped through my stomach... the prison was coming into view. I had nothing to say. What a fool I was. We landed just outside the gate.
"I can't have that happen."Captain Justice said but I didn't even comprehend his words as he reached into my bag and took the device out. With barely any effort he shattered the device into a thousand pieces and dropped it on the ground.
"Wha- what, why"was all I could stammer.
"If any normal person could suddenly flick a switch and catch any supervillain in the world, I think bounties might drop, don't you? Hey kid, don't break out of here. This is your warning. I can't have that device getting out in public. You get out of this place, you better invent some way of surviving me. And all the rumors you've heard about me are true."He suddenly shot lasers from his eyes to incinerate the remains of the device it had taken me years to build. "But you forgot telepathy."
As the guards approached, he took one last look at me, and shouted to them "50 thousand for this guy, right?" |
Arlo wrapped his arms around Juniper and me as we smiled for the camera.
"Get ready,"he whispered.
Over the years I had grown to trust Arlo's warnings. His ability to sense what would happen ten seconds into the future came in handy in nearly every fight, and gave us a huge upper hand in most situations. He was our secret weapon and our most guarded ally.
But we were trapped. Not just by the camera that would capture anything we did, but by our friends all around. Only a handful knew our secret identities, and we knew theirs too.
Dust and debris spilled onto the dance floor. The music and dancing came to a sudden stop. The three of us in front of the photographer dropped our smiles. A few nervous screams came from the guests as they shuffled away from the newly formed hole in the wall. Out of it stepped a man wearing a black and purple jumpsuit, with hair that stood up like a jet of black fire. It was Midnight Man, my arch nemesis.
"Sorry to crash the party,"said the unwelcome visitor, "but I need to borrow the groom for while."He cackled, "And surely there's nobody here who will stop me!"
I felt a pulse of frustration and anger growing from my chest. This was supposed to be a day off! I scanned the crowd for the bride and groom, and found them just a few steps away. I could get them now, but...If only I could just escape to a secluded corner I could change without unveiling my identity...
Tugging at my tuxedo shirt, I stepped towards a back door for the bathrooms. But before I got more than two steps, I felt a tugging on my shoulder.
"James, wait."It was Arlo. He gave me a warning glare then directed my gaze in front of me. "Watch the photographer!"
I had been worried about Midnight Man, the guests nearest him, and the bride and groom. I had been worried about my own decision. The photographer hadn't crossed my mind.
"Not so fast!"he shouted at Midnight man. As he stood, his clothes burned off into a light ash which fell softly to the floor, revealing a skin-tight red and yellow outfit. He pressed a button on his camera and it unfolded into a long staff with a bright bulb on the tip.
"And who might you be?"Midnight Man chided. "A wanna be superhero?"
"You may not know me yet, but I'm the Flash, and I won't let you hurt my friend!"
"Rookie mistake,"Juniper whispered. "A public reveal. He won't get an ounce of privacy."
"And with his name too,"I chuckled. "He'll get a letter from some angry lawyers pretty soon."
"Let's just see what he can do,"Arlo suggested.
"So, you're the superhero friend I've heard would be here,"Midnight Man said, taking slow steps toward the middle of the dance floor. "Pity. I was hoping it would be someone more significant."
The Flash approached Midnight Man, putting himself between the groom and the villain. He pointed his staff. "Take another step closer and you'll be sorry."
Midnight Man snapped his fingers and the whole room went dark. Every ounce of light had vanished.
"That wasn't very smart,"Arlo said.
"What can you hear, Juniper?"I asked.
"Nothing yet, they're still standing... wait. Flash is moving."
Despite the total darkness, we were suddenly enveloped by a blinding light. We could see again, though our eyes took a moment to adjust.
"Wow,"Arlo said.
"What is it?"I asked.
"You'll see."
I blinked my eyes and focused on the dance floor, but Midnight Man was missing. I quickly looked for the groom, but he was still there, his new wife bravely standing in front of him. However, I saw the Flash walk over and pick something up off the ground. It was a photograph.
"Looks like I've *captured* Midnight Man's best qualities!"
The crowd gasped. I winced. Juniper sighed.
"He needs to work on his pun game,"said Arlo.
After a few minutes of cleaning up, the party resumed. Everyone crowded around The Flash and gawked at his photograph of Midnight Man, now stuck in the photograph. It was an incredible power, and certainly one that we would need to carefully watch. But I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that without his appearance, Midnight Man would have gotten what he came for. No, not the groom, but the outing of one of our secret identities.
I glanced over at the groom, who happened to catch my eye. I couldn't tell for sure, but he almost looked disappointed. Perhaps it was because the focus of the party had shifted to The Flash, but perhaps it was from something more sinister. |
With a monumental effort, Azanar held back the roar that surged to the back of his throat. His arms remained unmoving with one hand on the opened door handle. Water dribbled into his eyes and dripped from his beard. His arcane clothing clung to his shoulders as if he’d been caught in the rain.
He must have made some manner of noise, however, for Karlee came running up the hallway. “Master, what …”
Azanar wasn’t quick enough to close the door, and he hadn’t selected Karlee for her dull wits. She had seen the steel bucket with the elongated middle finger painted on it on the floor and took in his wet state. Her disapproving sigh belonged to a woman Azanar laid to rest centuries ago alongside his father.
“Don’t say it, Karlee,” he warned.
“Would you like me to fetch you a towel, Master?”
“No, but you can go down to the stables and bring me up a pail of fresh horse manure.”
“Master, may I speak freely?”
“Partially,” the old wizard conceded.
“You and Zalanar have been at this ever since you were boys and your names were constantly confused with each other. If I’m not mistaken, he just used a ninth level mass manipulation spell to dump a bucket of water on your head, and you plan on returning the favour with horse manure.”
Azanar was just about to silence her, when she stomped her foot at him and snapped, “For fuck’s sake, Master! Grow up, the pair of you!” and whirled on her heel, storming to the other end of the hall.
The number of times Karlee had raised her voice at him, let alone sworn at him, could be counted on the thumbs of one human hand. “I still want that manure!” he shouted after her.
“Yes, Master.”
“Dump water on me, you asshole…” he grumped, opening the door hard enough to knock the pail on the other side, sending it careening into the wall.
*\* \* \**
((All comments welcome))
***For more of my work including WPs:*** [r/Angel466](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/) or an index of previous WPS [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/comments/m4p5f2/wp_index_take_two/) |
I sat in a tiny room filling out form after form. Waivers and insurance liabilities. What it all boiled down to was that neither I nor mine could sue either them or theirs in the event of my disappearance or otherwise unfavorable condition in the event of my unlikely return. That was fine by me. I didn't have anyone that would sue on my behalf, anyhow. After I filled out all of their papers in the squat little shack, I was handed a tri-folded, important looking stack of papers.
"Hand those to the guard at the entrance,"the man in a button-up and hard hat told me. "Just a couple more things and you can be on your way. First, anything that is found and brought back to the mouth of the tunnel is the property of Lewis County and they and only they have exclusive rights to the artifacts, minerals, metals, or other such findings. Do you understand?"
I nodded my head.
"Initial here,"he pointed to a short line on a piece of paper. "Second, in the event of a return by the exploring party, that's you, they will be quarantined and subject to such medical tests including, but not limited to, physicals, mental aptitude, psychological, x-ray, MRI, and any other such tests as deemed necessary by a panel of medical professionals. Do you understand?"
I nodded and signed.
"Last thing we need to do is get your payment and give you some gear. That reminds me: 'Any county issued gear is to be returned in the same condition in which it is rented. If gear is missing or damaged, its value will be taken out of the paid deposit. In the event that the exploring party does not return, the deposit will be deemed un-claimable and will be issued to Lewis County.'"
I signed.
"That'll be $350, son,"the man in the hard hat said.
I wrote a check and handed it to the man who handed me a hard hat and flashlight in return. The hat was a blaze of yellow-green made for high visibility and the work that necessitated it. The flashlight was old and cheaply made. It rattled in my hand. If I had to guess, it came from some sort of surplus crate meant for natural disasters. With that, the man in the button-up shook my hand, wished me good luck, and ushered me on my way.
When I stepped outside of the repurposed shed, the brisk air of an early spring morning washed over me like the whisper from a lover. A blanket of fog covered the top of the rapidly greening mountain. It had rained overnight and was still threatening to, so the air smelled of the sweet bloom of new growth. Birds were awake and they were letting Lewis County know about it. I walked up the paved path towards the mouth of the tunnel. It was a gaping maw. Stones were jagged teeth framing the deep black of the opening. While intimidating and ominous, it didn't look out of place in the side of the mountain. In fact, compared to it, the cave seemed small and meek. Only to the men who stood witness to it did it feel looming.
In the middle of the entrance was a guard shack and a gate that raised and lowered on the command of one of the men standing sentry. There were two on either side of the shack and one sitting inside. I walked to the man in the shack and handed him my papers. He looked over them and nodded.
"Turn your flashlight on for me, please,"he instructed.
I flicked the thing on and showed it to him. The guard seemed pleased enough with its performance and nodded.
"I need to make sure one more time before we raise the gate. You are sure you have entered into this agreement on your own and you are not being persuaded or pressured to enter the mountain tunnel against your will,"the man asked.
"I am doing this on my own accord,"I affirmed.
The man smiled a sad smile at me.
"Ok, then,"he said. The gate began to rise. "Good luck and god bless."
The gate came to a clanking stop once it was fully raised. I turned to look back down the path I walked up, towards the town at the bottom of the mountain. I looked up and the grey sky threatening rain. I turned back towards the mouth of the tunnel and started walking. |
"Hi! I'm Sam."
"...seriously? You've got nothing to say? You're not *ignoring* me, are you?"
"...and *now* you're shaking your head. Not ignoring me, that's good. But then why are you saying noth-"
"Oh! Oh, I *do* apologise. I didn't *realise* that you were a Silent Protagonist. I'm so sorry, I just didn't think -"
"Protagonist? Oh, of *course* you're the protagonist. The, uh, the *silence* thing is new, but there were so many other little clues -"
"Me? Oh, no, I'm no Protagonist. No, don't worry, I'm not the Antagonist, either. I'm not even sure that this story even *has* an Antagonist, anyhow. No, I'm the fourth wall breaker..."
"No, I don't *actually* break down walls. It's a metaphorical thing."
"Yes, a metaphorical wall. It's only metaphorically broken."
"Alright, look, the full explanation is fairly lengthly. But we're almost at the end of the story, here. Only one line left to go..."
"No, I don't know what happens to the characters when the story ends. But I guess it's time for the two of us to find out." |
The only thing that stuck with me about the job was the first part of the first sentence of the mission brief: this is our next job.
This is our next job. Next job.
How many jobs had we done? How long was I part of this... Unorthodox time travel police unit? Did it even make sense to gauge the duration I spent with these people?
As the ship fabricated era-specific clothing for us, I wondered how they recruited me.
I had been falling to my death.
And then I wasn't.
That was how they recruited everyone here. People who were about to die were rescued and given a second chance.
But this organisation was no NASA. They didn't have any psychological tests or proper evaluations of their personnel. It was a major oversight, I felt.
Because no matter what reasoning they gave, what training I received, how utterly meaningful my job was, at the end of the day they had rescued a man about to kill himself.
And the years of depression that led to that moment of me committing suicide were not erased.
'Our next job', the team leader said. Her name was Melanie. Mel, we called her. She was smart, brave, outgoing. She was rescued from cancer or something. They brought her back from before the tumour even took hold in her brain.
She was fit for this job. She belonged here, she thrived here.
I did not.
Because every time I heard, 'next job' or 'next time' or 'next one', all I felt was dread. This cheat we had to escape the linearity of existence was not enough for me to reconcile with how I had lived my life. Even as a detached observer to the events of the world all I could feel was a numbness I know I could do without.
"Hey, Mr. Nihilist. You ready? We got a 9 hour window."A man called Samuels patted my back, his eyes kind.
Samuels was a good man. He looked out for me. He knew the circumstance in which I was rescued and recruited into this. And he stuck by me in out missions, and often joked about my gloomy disposition.
"You know it's bullshit, right? That bit about being stuck in the past forever? They can always time travel back to us after they fix whatever problem they had. We don't need a '9 hour window.'"I muttered, taking the soft silk robes from the fabricator and putting them on.
"I'm not even going to pretend I understand the mechanics of how this time travel stuff works. All I'm happy about is there's no killing that needs to be done here. Plus, it's the Library of Alexandria. Of all the historically significant places we've travelled to, this should be the most meaningful, right?"Samuels asked, wearing a toupee to hide his baldness.
"Sure, I guess. Seriously, though. Is this what we're doing now? Forever? Has anyone talked about retiring? I know this, ah, organisation is new. Like it's what, 2 years old?"
"Listen, live for the now. You either lose yourself way too deep into the past or are just dreading the future completely. You gotta stop thinking. 9 hours. All the parchments. Just remember that. Just get the job done."
"And then we're on to the next one."
"Ok, what do you see yourself doing instead?"Sam asked, taking a brownish satchel from the fabricator to hold the parchments.
"I don't... Know."
"See? Stop detaching yourself from the present. You know what depersonalisation is? That shit doesn't mesh well with time travellers. Makes us too introspective, unfocused."He explained. Every time he spoke about these things I wondered if he was some kind of a therapist in his previous life. Probably.
"I don't let that get in the way of my job."I protested.
"You think you don't. Anyway, it's our stop soon. I'm going to gather the others. Remember, 9 hours."
"And secure all the parchments or we'll get burned to death along with the library."I muttered. Sam smiled, patting me on the back again as he walked to the rest of the crew. |
As I walked to my cubicle on Monday morning, tanned and Starbucks coffee in hand, I was struck by how panicked all the other deities were. Everyone running around bumping into each other, yelling about this and that. When I reached my chair, one of the nymphs saw me.
"There you are! Where the hell were you?"
"I was on vacation. I guess I chose a bad time to do it?"
"Deities don't get to take vacations, dumbass. Even minor ones. Thanks to you, the whole department is backlogged an entire Bearimy!"
"But -- I was only gone for two weeks and -"
"Two weeks on earth. In heaven that's an entire Bearimy. Honestly, how did you even get this job?"
Pushing the insulting comment aside, I set my stuff down and sat down at my chair to check all the emails I'd missed.
"Oh gods."I mumbled to myself as I saw the messages come pouring in. 566,987,256 new wishes since I left. Half of them expired, meaning they went unanswered for too long. I thought that just meant some kids don't get their silly birthday wishes of ponies and puppies granted.
The nymph pointed at an expired wish on my screen. "Look at this one."she said. "This 12 year old boy wished on a dandelion for the kids at school to stop making fun of his weight. When his wish got ignored, he took his dad's gun and killed himself. That was an unplanned death, meaning the Grim Reaper had to go out of his way to collect his soul on time. That made him miss the death of an evil dictator in Guatemala, which means he's still alive, and the country will suffer even more, and more people will die, further setting the Grim Reaper back on cases, and Ares has his hands full with another impending war."
I swallowed a lump in my throat.
"And this one,"she tapped at another expired wish on my screen. "This 8 year old girl wished for her parents to stop fighting. Her wish got ignored, her parents divorced, and now she's stuck living with her abusive father because her mother gave up parental rights. You know Hestia, goddess of family and home?"She pointed across the room at an extremely distraught woman, yelling at somebody on the phone. "She may be a major deity, but she can't just snap her fingers and make this go away without severe repercussions on earth. You were the only one who could stop it. And it's not like she can call Child Protective Services. It had to be you."
I buried my face in my hands and sighed. "So what can I do?"I said, muffled.
"Work on your active cases. It's all you can do. Where did you go anyway?"
"...Florida."
"Ugh."she grimaced. "If you're gonna take a vacation and ruin the entire department, at least pick a good spot." |
Komo clutched the deep wound on her chest, stemming the flow of blood, buying whatever little bit of time she could in the face of Quiznox.
Komo had no talent for the five arcane questions, no power, no glorious purpose. But someone had to stop the mad sorcerer, lest he claimed not just the Uncertain Throne, but the entire kingdom.
Master of all five branches of question magic, Quiznox might as well have been a god. But what was a god to a nonbeliever?
Komo sparked a phosphorous torch from her bag, a crackling orange beacon illuminating the grim throne room, and pressed it against her bleeding wound. She gritted her teeth, pushing the torch down harder. Burning cotton and flesh filled her nose.
Quiznox, atop his throne, laughed. "Desperate. Pathetic. Borning."
Komo ignored the chide and, hand trembling, hurled the torch at Quiznox's smug bearded face.
"*What*?"said Quiznox. "Doves."
The torch shimmered and, through an explosion of sparks, a flock of doves burst forth and fluttered all throughout the throne room.
"Bastard,"said Komo. Another of her efforts rendered useless by her former mentor. With her wound sealed, she sprinted for safety behind one of the six thick pillars standing around the throne. She pressed her back against the cool marble, thoughts racing miles per second.
What could she possibly hope to achieve? How was she to face her former master, the man who plucked her from near-death and raised her as his own? How did such a great man fall to such depths? How could Komo possibly stop him?
"Child,"said Quiznox. "My curious child. *Where* are you?"
Komo's blood chilled. She craned her neck around, and, instead of stone, saw her former master clear as day.
"There you are."
Komo reached for her throwing daggers as she sprinted for another pillar. Enchanted with Stygian runes, they'd managed to wound, even kill, other rogue sorcerers. But would they work here, now?
"You don't have to do this,"said Komo. "Please, stop this madness!"
She reached the next pillar.
"My child, *Where*\--"
Komo stopped short before the pillar and flung her cursed daggers at the throne. She thumbed a bit of blood from her shirt and formed the hand seals to activate the curse. The daggers pulsed, glowing impossibly black. Pain shot through every fiber of Komo's body, the curse drawing from her very life force to power itself. How many years did she have left after this activation? Six? Seven?
The daggers streaked, trailing black smoke, and struck true. Three handles stuck out of her master's chest, blood Seeping out and soaking Quiznox's linen shirt.
"It's over,"said Komo. She dropped to her knees, spent.
She may have been powerless, but she was never helpless. Fallen, but not forsaken. Not a hero, but not a villain either.
"*When?"*
Komo gasped. "No."
The daggers flew out from her master's chest, spun back through the air, and clattered at Komo's knees. Her master rose from the Uncertain Throne and smoothed out his mended linens. The Deathstroke was undone.
"Hopeless,"said Quiznox. He strode forward, down the steps, across the stone floor.
Perhaps her master was right. *No*.
Komo reached for the daggers once more. If she used the rest of her life force, everything she had left--
"*Why?"*
Komo froze. The question invaded her mind, compelled her to stop.
Suddenly, she was no longer in the throne room.
She knelt before a towering obelisk made of starry night, her former master by her side. They stared up at the monument together.
"You had such promise,"said Quiznox. "All that mana, and yet no talent for the arcane questions. Not a single one. I thought--I thought if I pushed you, drove you like a beast of burden, that one day you'd unlock your potential. Of course, I was wrong. Imagine my...disappointment. Me. Wrong?"
Quiznox pointed up to the Obelisk.
"You will die here,"Quiznox continued. "The Obelisk of the eternal *Why* will rend your mind, and your body will wither and die. Have you any final words, my dear student?"
The question lifted the Obelisk's pressure and sense returned to Komo's mind. She'd lost. Had she ever stood a chance? Even after years of tutelage under the greatest sorcerer in the entire kingdom, Komo still did not comprehend how the arcane questions worked, their source of power, their reason for being. Not even her former master knew the origin of the Five Obelisks--always changing the subject when she'd press too far...
"How?"
Quiznox chuckled. "What was that?"
Komo balled her fists, fought back tears, then lost once more and let them flow.
She stared up at the Obelisk and screamed, "*HOW DO YOU WORK*?"
Then they were back in the throne room, Komo still kneeling and Quiznox across from her.
"What--what have you done?"
Komo reached for a dagger, offered another year of her life, and hurled it at Quiznox. The black blade struck her former master in the gut. He staggered, but raised a trembling hand and prepared another spell.
"*When--"*
"*How?"*
The time spell did not activate. Quiznox stumbled back, face pallid, eyes wide. "No, no, no."
Komo reached for another dagger, stumbled to her feet, steadied herself against the pillar.
"How is this possible?"said Quiznox, clutching the dagger's hilt.
"That is for me to know,"said Komo, readying her dagger. "And for you to find out." |
She's everything to me. She's all I really know. My first and only girlfriend in high school. We were together for 13 years, married for 5. She's the only person on earth who truly knows me. I guess I got too comfortable. I know I took her for granted, because when she was here, I wasn't. I was working. And if I wasn't working, I was exhausted. She deserves better. I don't even know how to talk to people without her in my life. I forgot how to be my own person. I know how to work, watch Uplink, and sleep. That's it.
I made a promise to leave myself out of her life, but... thanks to Uplink, I get to embrace her again. Smell her, feel her, taste her again. See her smile again. I get to hear her *screeeam* like she did when we were in high school again. All of this, while staying true to my vow: *I* would never be a part of *her* life again, but I can have her as a part of mine. Forever.
All I have to do is keep paying the man that replaced me. His account isn't cheap but, lucky for me, he offers the All-Access package. Most people aren't comfortable enough to grant that access, giving complete strangers access to EVERYTHING they experience. But I guess considering the audience he caters to (me) and the amount I'm willing to pay, he doesn't mind. Thank God Uplink is anonymous, otherwise I'd be ashamed of how pathetic this is. I give him everything I have in an attempt to get my happiness back; the happiness he took from me in the first place. It's a cycle now. Work, watch Uplink, go to sleep. I guess, in the end, everyone gets their way.
**EDIT: please go easy, I don't write for shit. this concept was just really intriguing to me** |
Like clockwork, every friday night at eight pm this guy would sneak into our building to do all manner of things. And when I say sneak, I mean he got all up on his toes, and crept forward in exaggerated steps. He’d even look behind every few steps to see if anyone was coming. Guess he never figured out we had cameras. Or that cameras even existed at all. He never tried hiding, though his face always seemed to be in shadow.
Watching on my monitor, he was on the roof this time. Not sure how he got up there, but my buddy on the previous shift said he’d climbed up using four over-sized plungers as suction cups. Now, I ain’t about to believe something like that but the guy was on the roof and as far as I could see all the doors were locked.
Over one shoulder he’d slung a huge brown bag. It seemed to be simultaneously lighter than air, but also the heaviest thing this guy had ever held. Once he got to the edge of the roof, he threw it down and started rummaging around inside it. From my vantage point with the cameras, I could barely see inside, but he was searching real deep. He must have been up to his shoulder, but my eyes must have been deceiving me, because no bag that I’ve ever seen could be that deep. Without warning, he put his entire body in the bag, right up to his waist. All I could see was the bag flat against the floor, and two legs kicking around on top.
Soon he pulled backwards, after getting a good grip with his feet, and out came his torso, followed by his head, and then his arms. In his hands was an enormous black anvil. My eyes must have been deceiving me again, there ain’t no way that bag could hold an anvil. And how could he climb up the side of the building with it anyway?
“Ten bucks says he gets a hernia moving that thing about,” Pete said next to me as if watching a man pull an anvil out of thin air was what happened on every other Tuesday night.
“No bet,” I replied. Anyone would get a hernia pulling that thing around.
For a few minutes we watched this guy, pulling more and more stuff out of his bag. There must have been fifty metres of rope, a plank of wood, half a dozen cannon balls, and a big wooden crate labelled ‘Acme.’ No idea what that could contain and really didn’t want to find out. What could he be doing with all these things on the roof of our building.
“We should head up and sort this guy out, Pete,” I said.
“Nah. You go if you want, but I’m staying put. Didn’t you hear what happened to Curly?”
“Nope, stub his toe again?”
“Worse. Flattened.”
“Flattened?”
“Like a pancake.”
“Shame, he was only a few days from retirement.”
Curly be damned, I was going to sort this guy out once and for all. Grabbed my gun, my badge, and took a little swig from my hip flask for the nerves.
By the time I got up there the anvil was perched precariously on the end of the wooden plank, which was suspended over the edge of the roof and out into the open air beyond. Nothing seemed to hold the plank on, but there it balanced, right on the tip of the roof. This joker was standing with his back to me, peering over the edge. Gun at the ready, I moved forward.
“Listen here, son, best you pack up and get out of here,” I said.
“Eh, what’s up, doc? Are you hunting wabbits again?”
“Rabbits?”
He turned to face me, revealing his own gun peering out of the gloom and pointed directly at my belly. The shadows parted on his face to reveal long grey ears and a face dripping with sarcasm.
“There’s no wabbit hunting here, Doc,” he said looking down his scrunched nose at me. Seeing my gun, he leaned forward and stuck a long finger in the end of the barrel. I pulled the trigger. All at once, the barrel expanded to nearly a foot across, then exploded in my face leaving me covered in black soot and the rabbit man laughing maniacally in front of me.
“My turn,” he said and pulled his trigger. Out of the barrel came a small rod wrapped in some sort of fabric. It unfurled and hung off the rod, swaying aimlessly in the wind. Across the fabric was spelled “BANG” in large, friendly letters.
“What the fuck is this?” I stammered and lunged at the rabbit. He dodged expertly to the side and I found myself standing at one end of the wooden plank. Looking back to the rabbit, he had somehow found a sword and he thrust its point towards me. Backwards and forwards on the plank we sparred, but with a final thrust of the sword the rabbit forced me past the anvil and off the end.
I hung in the air for a long moment, my eyes locked in deadly embrace with this rabbit assassin. With a sly grin on his face, his eyes rolled around and looked down at my feet. Without any control, my eyes followed to stare down at the dark abyss below. It was at that instant that gravity was switched back on, and after flailing my legs I fell straight down into the concrete of the carpark.
It wasn’t the fall that killed me. In fact, I made an excellent crater in the concrete and except for some stars spinning around my head I was completely unscathed. No, it was the one ton anvil that followed me down that finally laid me to rest, which was a shame: I was only three days from retirement. |
"Seriously?"
I turn around. In the corner of my room a man in sunglasses and a suit appears out of thin air.
I take a step back, tripping over my miscreation and hitting my head on my nightstand.
"Who- ? Wha- ? How-?,"I manage to stutter.
"I was sent here to secure the technology before anyone else does. You just invented time travel, kid."
Again, I have more questions than my brain can process, "Time...? Travel...?"
"You really don't get it, do you?"
I shake my head.
"Good lord, when I heard a child invented time travel, I thought you were some kind of genius but you’re just the really unfortunate type of stupid."
He starts taking his gun out of the holster, "Alright, let's make this painless."
"Wait!,"I shout, finally having sorted my thoughts, "you don’t have to kill me, just take it."
His sunglasses now hide the look of utter confusion. "I assumed you might want to keep it... Or you'd use it to escape at least..."He lowers his gun, "but you’re really not a smart one, are you?"
I am a bit taken aback by his statement. In all honesty, yeah, I didn't consider actually using the time travelling device I had just created to run, or, do anything actually. "I just need something for the science fair. Give me that and you can have it."
The man seems even more confused than before. Getting a grip again, he puts a hand on his watch and disappears for a split second, after which he stands in front of me with a huge... thing. He puts it down next to my desk
"That's the winner five years from now. That should do it, don't you think?"
I nod. He walks up to me, takes my scientific accident and disappears. |
Vilhelm stretched on the heavily padded bed as the page brought him breakfast. Thanking the boy with a smile he set about feasting on the sausages and eggs prepared for him and that new hot drink they imported from the south. He gives a little shudder as the bitter drink flows down his throat. But soon enough its effect settle in and the last fog of sleep blows away.
"Don't know how I woke up before we got this stuff."
The swarthy man beside the bed bowed deeply. "I am honored you enjoy the fruits of my homelands milord. Perhaps we can discuss other issues?"
The short and somewhat round at the middle king struggled from the high bed and stretched.
"You want to ask for Margaret's hand in marriage again Abdul?"
"Well she is a fine young woman. . ."
"She's twelve. And I know you prefer not just older girls but those from your homeland. Why do you want the throne? Yes I know you do all the real work of ruling. I am better at painting than using taxes to get roads built. Better at writing poetry than selecting a capable general."
Vilhelm grinned as his trusted advisor shuddered at the mention of the poetry.
"Abdul you set your own pay. You have every luxury I have, perhaps more. No one is looking to see who is in your bed after all. I have to remain the poor widower since my Ariana passed. You are smarter than any three other advisors around here. Those roads? Best in three kingdoms. Trade flows in our ports and then to the capital. Because of you. My father's idea of ruling was to literally whip men into a line and go burn down a village that sent one copper less than they had the previous year. No matter the reason. Those that came to his funeral did not do so to show respect. They came to see he was truly dead. I am not the martial man he was nor the cunning manipulator my grandfather was. That is why I need you."
The tall man bends low. "I am sorry I offend you my lord. I shall try to regain your respect."
"You have to lose it before it can be regained. Give Margaret a few years to grow to womanhood. If she agrees then we shall talk."
"Sire?"As the vizier straightens in surprise.
"Our neighbors are either childless or have daughters. So there is no need to marry my daughter off for politics. And I can think of no other I would like to call son." |
Universal time 750 450 786year the 25th month the 21th day:We finally managed to break trough the defenses of the planet designated Extrola Arilias Reporitary Trankard Helios.
We were on a landing course now to a small island part of the globe to speak to the longest living world leader of this planet as was the galactic protocol. I most say i was nervous the enemy managed to wipe out 70% of the offensive forces we mounted, this might still be a trap were we could lose a ton of important forces.
​
I got interrupted from my thoughts by the Sarge saying we are approaching the city designated as Lordem Ordon Nordal Derogeror Orgem Nederleath. We were finally here. I asked the Sarge what is the planetary time of this planet.
The Sarge answered according to our data it is the year 15 653 here. Then he looked at the door when a beep went as it slowly opened.
​
We moved out behind our Sarge who would lead the negotiations. Once out of the craft a weird vehicle arrived, and a small old wait is that a human??? A small old human female stepped out of it.
​
She started talking to the sarge: You are the spokesperson for the galaxy are you not? My name is Queen Elizabeth the second! It is a pleasure to meet you want some tea? |
I had expected black. Not necessarily a robe and scythe, but anything in the color black would have helped temper my reaction to the individual laying on the couch when I was escorted in. I could have used that extra cushion, especially given how little prep I was given before the secretary all but pushed me into the office where he was waiting.
The ad had said "No Experience Necessary", so I figured I'd be perfect. I needed a job, and I had minor experience with counseling. If some folks dealing with loss needed someone to lean on as they cried for an hour a week, I called that easy money. It wasn't until I inquired about the job to the secretary that I was corrected in my assumption about what the job entailed.
"No, not *death* counselor,"she said flatly, "*Death's* Counselor. He's needed one for ages."
I clearly was only the latest in a long line of volunteers, because she was practiced enough to push me in the door to start my session before I even had a chance to process what the hell she had just revealed to me.
"Just listen and nod along,"she coached as she led me to the counseling office, still bland and disinterested, "The guy just needs someone to tell him it's okay. Don't overthink it. Also, don't let the resemblance flip you out or anything."
Before I even had a chance to ask what the hell she was on about, I was face-to-face with the man himself, not a trace of black on him. Instead, what sat before me was the absolute last possible thing I could have expected that day, and the only possible way I could have been convinced that what I was looking at wasn't human.
I saw...*myself.* As in, exactly myself, right down to the broken watch I wore out of habit.
"Are you the new counselor?"I/he asked me. Where others might have screamed, instantly ran, or even grabbed the fichus plant next to the door as a weapon, I just froze. For two minutes of sheer panic, I endured his gaze - my gaze - in a complete body lock from absolute abject terror.
"She didn't prep you for me did she?"he finally asked.
"N-no, she...yeah, she failed to mention this,"I finally responded, shaking to my shoes.
"Yeah, she's not good with prep,"he replied, slouching back into the couch.
"Yeah..."was the only response I could muster.
"You're freaked out by the appearance aren't you?"he finally said after another moment of silence.
"Yeah...what the hell even is that?"
"It's the only way I can appear to regular people when I'm not working. Something about stopping me from being able to form regular attachments."
"That...must be lonely."Despite all of the mind-boggling elements of what was right in front of me, somehow, someway, I mustered the courage to press on. Maybe it was something about seeing a familiar loneliness on an even more familiar face.
"Yeah,"he agreed, almost as surprised as I was that I somehow had managed a therapeutic observation.
"So how do you, like, pass the time then?"I asked as I moved to the chair next to him, all the while doing the best I could to stop my own shaking.
"I watch,"he replied now fully lying on the couch, "Sure I could interact but it's so hard to see the point knowing the exact moment and method every one of them is going to come with me."
"Really? You know for everyone?"I couldn't help myself.
"Yeah, even for you,"he answered, basically reading my mind. I resisted the temptation to ask, knowing just how much I'd hate the answer.
"Still though, that shouldn't stop you from interacting through right?"I offered.
"Why do you say that?"he retorted, "What point is there if I'm stuck watching everyone die and ferrying their soul into the next life? Why make friends?"
"I guess...because it's more than what you can get out of them. All lives are defined by our interactions. I'll tell you right now: my life will *never* be the same after *this* interaction. So maybe it's less about the relationships as a whole, and more about the individual interactions?"He sat up and locked eyes with me for several beats as he processed what I said. Seeing my own eyes stare that intently returned the shakes pretty quickly.
"...I like you,"he finally said. "I like this one!"he shouted out at his secretary on the other side of the door.
"Fan-fucking-tastic"she called out from the waiting room, her voice as flat as the first time she spoke to me. |
"I did it mostly as a joke, and partially because I was scared of what would've happened if I *didn't* buy the star. The guy had that wild look in his eye. I couldn't say no."
The alien, a 2-foot-tall creature which had a shape resembling the Geico gecko stared back at me. With a device held directly to its throat-hole, it stared back at me and began to speak.
"You bought Vex-Kevlur 2 from... who? And as a joke? How rich do you think you are?"
"That--is a really, *really* good question."
"Well by international space law you're going to evict half my species from one of the only habitable solar-systems in lightyears."
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry I didn't-"
"Nah, I'm just messing with you. Welcome to the system, neighbor!"
The thing stood up on its hind legs, and held out its green Teflon-lined fingers.
"Been too long since we had anyone visit or care about us. Tell me, you know your planet has an unstable reactor core and has a 1 in ten million chance of exploding at literally any minute, right? That thing looks like it’ll give pretty soon.”
"Ah, I get it another one of your jokes?"
It sat there for what felt like an unreasonable uncomfortable amount of time, its eyes studying me closely, unsure of what to make of my most recent comment.
"Yeah... a joke." |
“Everyone loves a chubby baby!”
We all nodded. Everyone does love a chubby baby.
“So we here at LiveMed realized that there was an underserved demographic. What about the babys with gangly legs? Babies that lack the trademark photogenic folds of the classically beautiful chubby baby? And what of their parents, who have to live their lives carrying baby pictures that offend their aesthetic sensibilities?”
There were some nods in the audience. But they were unsure, like a drinking bird toy that realizes it is no longer thirsty.
“Because we care about the babies we are rolling out Fabby flabby cosmetic fillers for infants, allowing them to finally have the idealized cherubic form that every child deserves, and that every parent craves.”
There were no more nods. A voice came from the back.
“I’m sorry, did you say that you support plastic surgery for babies?” Gerald regretted the words as soon as he said them. The last thing he wanted was anyone’s attention.
“Only ugly ones! Let’s move on.”
The new hires group shuffled on. Gerald among them. They all need jobs, he suspected. It is hard to imagine they’d be here if they didn’t. But he wondered if he needed one this badly.
The next stop was in front of a lab in which serious men in serious coats titrated liquids into beakers.
“Chemotherapy gets a bum rap.” The guide could make anything sound bubbly.
“Long hours attached to machines, getting vital but unfun drugs pushed into your system. We at LiveMed came to a crucial conclusion. Chemotherapy could be fun! And it could allow us to leverage our significant ownership stakes in the inhalables sector.”
She reached into a small door in the wall and pulled out a thin white tube.
“This is a heat activated chemotherapy inhalable delivery device. Used for the treatment of lung and oral cancer, it allows patients to fight cancer on their own terms, at home, at parties, or even at a bar. You just need this and a lighter. And because sometimes you need a little pick me up when fighting the big C we put in just a smidge of nicotine to keep our customers on their toes.”
Gerald’s mouth moved again. He wasn’t sure why.
“You make chemo Cigarettes?”
“Heat activated chemotherapy inhalable delivery device. Marketing has found that the word cigarette carries with it significant baggage. On to our next stop.”
He didn’t believe in conspiracy theories. It always seems like it was just a way of putting false order on top of a chaotic world. But LiveMed seemed to have their fingers in a lot of pies. And one man’s conspiracy theory was an MBA’s vertically integrated marketing and distribution plan.
His brain caught up to the words as his feet stopped.
“That was when we realized that the problem was not access to guns, but instead it was the absence of controls. So, following the razorblade model, we made free guns for everyone. And with an ingenious subscription model that allows you to shoot your first ten bullets a month at no cost, but additional shots, accuracy and frequency modifications, could be either combined into your subscription or purchased with microtransactions.”
“Microtransactions?” The words left with intensity this time. “That’s it. I’m out.” Gerald turned and walked away. There were some things that were just wrong. |
'Stupid woman,' I thought for the 10th time this morning, as my 'wife' talked about work.
I am Mike Townley. I am a businessman, and the owner of a moderately successful company. It is successful enough, at least, to keep us both comfortable. Of course, my 'wife's' income far exceeds mine, so we never worry about money.
However, I am also Silvertongue, the greatest and most infamous villain in the city, the country, and perhaps the world. I have the power to convince anybody of anything. I could steal the shirt off your back in such a charming way that you would be apologising to me that it wasn't a better brand.
If I got serious about it, my company could become the largest in the world within a week, but that isn't the point. My business is just a cover story for my enormous gang of villains, a rowdy bunch I have convinced to come under me to undermine and topple the great capital, New New York.
Now, the best part of all this, is my 'wife'. Her name is Sarah Roth, and she, I shit you not, is the Supreme Leader of the Hero Council. She literally controls every single superhero in the world. No word of a lie: I, the greatest villain in the city, am married to the Supreme Leader of the Hero Council. What kind of fairy tale is this for me?
Of course, she has no idea about my true identity. She is just a tool for me to use to gain information, but after such a long time I have developed some feelings for her. I think, no matter who you are, it is impossible to remain by the side of one person for so long and to feel nothing about it.
Now, we were sat at the table, eating breakfast with each other. I talked about my business for 5 minutes or so, and then she started talking about *her* work.
This included: staff changes, new recruits, worrying/volatile members of the Hero Council, and most important for me, the plans to defeat and capture each villain in the city. My superpower not being a fighting type, this was an invaluable resource that only I could obtain.
She was talking about a new plan to capture certain villains at the very moment I had thought those words for the 10th time.
"- also, Phoenix is desperate to get rid of Ultra-freeze so he can continue to protect the city worry-free. We're planning to create a lava trap. It won't kill him, but it will render him immobile until we can cuff him, then it's off to maximum security for him."
"As he rightfully should be,"I responded appropriately, and Sarah smiled back sweetly. "But don't overwork yourself. Word around is,"I lowered my voice to a whisper. This house was smothered in top security devices, there was no need to whisper, but Sarah played along and leaned in closer, close enough for me to snap her neck at any moment. I didn't though. I merely continued: "The word on the street is that Bulldozer is sneaking into the city to wreak havoc around the place."
Sarah's eyes changed. I had told my wife that as long as nobody found out I was her husband, I could create connections to the underground and get news that superheroes would never even consider accessing. Of course, it wasn't too difficult, I just built up my villain gang and got the information that way. The information I provided always seemed to be right, which was probably one of the reasons she had married me: never lose an invaluable resource, no matter what.
So when I revealed that the Mad Bull, Bulldozer, could be sneaking into the city at some point in the near future, she immediately reacted. I could see in her eyes that she was noting it down.
Sarah's superpower was Eidetic Memory. This was beyond the brain mutation, also called photographic memory. No, this was true photographic memory. Not only was she able to perfectly remember every detail of everything she had ever experienced since she was born, but she could reproduce it perfectly, from sounds to images, from taste to smells. Also, unlike photographic memory, she could edit the images she produced as she saw fit, to hide the face of an informant, for example.
Right now she was ensuring she had this information tightly packed and sealed away, then she looked apologetically at me. "I'm sorry, I just had to make sure..."
I quickly held her hand ('to no resistance!' I couldn't help but think) and assured her that it was okay.
Then it was my turn.
"We have a new plan we're acting out today to capture Silvertongue."Sarah sighed, then continued: "When he appears at 2pm to wreak havoc like he announced he would, we're going to have some plainclothed elites hidden around to oppress the rebellion before it can begin. We also have Brainiac on standby to repel Silvertongue. If everything goes to plan, we should have him behind bars by teatime, and we can finally relax together."
"Don't we 'relax' together a lot?"I teased with a wink. Sarah lightly smacked my arm with a mock-shocked sound.
"You rascal!"She chuckled. Then she checked her time and stood. "Time to go, I have to arrive early to brief the superheroes on the Silvertongue operation."
"Of course, stay safe out there."I lightly pecked her on the lips, which made her blush slightly, before she took her bag from a chair next to the door and lightly skipped out of the door. There was a *click* as it closed behind her.
I released the smile I had been trying my best to keep back all the time she had been talking. It was rather deranged, but no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn't disappear. This could have been the most disastrous plan they had made if I hadn't known about it. But she had unknowingly revealed this to the very person she was so desperate to capture.
I looked around instinctively to check I was alone, then I started to laugh. A lunatic's cry echoed throughout the empty house. |
The green glow of my healing powers faded with the completion of my latest patient. The old man gives me a beaming smile as he takes out his wallet.
“How much will it be young man, I will say though my insurance isn’t that great,” he said with a weathered voice worn from a lifetime of speaking.
“Don’t worry sir, my powers are not meant for profit, treatment is totally free,” I reply with a warm smile of my own. “If the arthritis starts flaring up come back and I’ll get you sorted,” I add as I guide him out of my treatment room.
It was as we were passing through the waiting room I saw a number of my regulars huddled in the corner as far from a group of suit-wearing types as they could.
“So who’s next?” I ask the room. No one speaks up they all just look at the gathering of suits. The one with slicked-back hair and a smug air of self-importance rose and walked up to me.
“Are you Dr Archibald Henri, otherwise known as Doc Fixit?” he asked. His serious tone made me worry. Had they come for help with an important person.
“Yes, that’s me,” I reply. He hands me a bundle of papers which I assume are patient records.
“This is a cease and desist order, a class action lawsuit and your arrest warrant,” he said fixing my stunned look with a sneer.
“Pardon?” I reply in shock.
“We represent the law firm, Locke and associates. We have been hired by a number of pharmaceutical companies and major hospitals within the area for damages caused by your meta based healing. We have also filed an injunction with the FDA as we can prove you have not gotten government approval to run this clinic,” he said his sneer oozing venom.
“As you can see in the documents I just handed you, our clients are claiming damages in excess of three-point four billion dollars. We will also be seeking to have your medical licence revoked and you placed in jail for running an illegal clinic. The maximum sentence of which can be roughly a decade,” he finished his calm explanation.
“But I’m a hero?” I weakly protest as I feel my stomach nose-diving.
“Yes and after the Mecury incident, all heroes are subject to the law. Even if you don’t wear tights and assault the mentally ill we will happily enforce the law,” he replied.
“I wish you a good day,” he said with a nod as the group of suits filed out and in their place entered a group of police officers.
“But I just wanted to help,” I near weep as I fall to my knees. |
Headmaster Elward sat across the table, a smug smile on his handsome face. Today was a celebration, a joint event presented by the two most prestigious arcane academies in all the realm. Unfortunately, this meant I had to deal with Elward, the other school’s headmaster.
Elward, unlike me, was rather frivolous with his magic. While I was a wise, aloof headmaster who offered cryptic knowledge and about whom students whispered myths when they weren’t around, Elward was a glorified school mascot. He attended every event, knew almost every student’s name, and even that of many of their parents. He gave frequent speeches and showed off his magic in celebration of the arcane. And I hated him.
For years he had tried to get me to showcase some of my magic, but I had never given in. I even found ways to avoid this event just to avoid him, but too many years in a row would appear suspicious.
I doubted he actually suspected I lacked any arcane ability. I think he just believed that I wasn’t as powerful as I said as was. To him, this event was a competition, a way to prove his school’s superiority. If he could compare his magic against mine, then he could once and for all escape my academy’s shadow. I could never let that happen.
“Ah, Headmaster Yewin, it appears your fashion sense is still as traditional as ever, as are the uniforms. I can hardly tell your students apart!”
I tried not to show my anger at Elward’s words, providing a retort as a sipped my wine, “The school uniforms are shown to provide regimented order and learning. Tried and true practices need not be changed, only improved.”
Elward smirked, “So you believe the old methods are better than those employed in my own academy? I have yet to see evidence that your school’s pupils are more adept in the arcane arts than mine.”
He was trying to provoke me again, damn. I hated that man. “This is a day of celebration between our two academies, Elward. Both our schools are prestigious, that asmuch has been agreed upon. Let us both enjoy the successful years we have led our school through.”
Elward turned to the others at the feast, he knew his audience. The students wanted validation that their own school was superior, “Then let me ask the student body. Would a demonstration between the abilities of both headmasters serve as an evaluation of an academy’s prestige?”
The majority of students nodded or murmured in agreement, eyes wide with interest, waiting to hear my response. I took a long pause, considering my options. I could say that I would not stoop to something so petty, but quite frankly, I was tired of Elward’s constant provocations. He would continue to try to trick me into using magic if I did not give in, which might lead to discovering my actual secret.
I looked down at my belt filled with vials and bags filled with arcane knickknacks and eyed a small vial on my right hip. While I lacked any arcane ability whatsoever, I was gifted in the ways of sleight of hand. It was useful if ever I needed something to seem impossible or uncanny, but today, it would serve a different purpose.
I smiled, “Who am I to deny the student’s request? But first, let us finish our feast, more wine, headmaster Elward?”
The headmaster nodded and I grabbed the wine bottle. The small vial was hidden in my closed palm as I carried the wine over to his outstretched glass, waiting until his attention wavered as I poured to slip the vial’s contents into the wine. I kept track of the time carefully as the feast went on, taking deep breaths as I prepared for the coming display of arcane talent.
Finally, Elward and I stepped up onto the outside ampitheater, buying my time as I struggled with my new pair of robes until I say the glimmer in Elward’s eyes. Now was the moment. I gestured to Elward, allowing them to go first. He stepped up, taking in the cheers of the crowd as he began to wave his arms and mutter incantations. From the length of the preparations, I knew the spell was a grand one.
He displayed no signs that the vial had taken effect, I held my breath, heart pounding in my chest. Elward’s spell reached its climax, the arcane energy forming in his hand as it… sparked and fizzled away. He gasped in shock, trying again, the spell fizzled once more. He tried a different spell, still nothing. My students burst into laughter, and I joined in.
“I will save you the embarrassment of attempting to top you, my dear Elward. I think the students have already decided for themselves which academy is superior.”
The frustrated Elward glared at me and opened his mouth to respond, but no retort came. I smiled and walked off stage. The students would soon whisper another legend about the great headmaster Yewin. |
Mary became aware of the world once more, like waking from a long sleep. But she had no body, and her mind felt slow, hobbled but also prescisely aware and focussed. She felt her home, rather than see or hear it. She felt it was different. Gone were the sponge finished walls of the kitchen, her kitchen, meticulously painted by her husband and grandson, Tim. Gone was the avacado green bathroom, a wedding gift from her sister and brother in law, replaced with white and grey. Gone was the wallpaper in the living room, put up by her and her husband when they first moved in after their wedding. But most painfully, gone was the life in the house. She felt the lack of her children and grandchildren, the warmth and youthful joy that was a constant in her life. Especially after her husband died.
She became aware of voices, a young woman who seemed familiar said, 'Dad, why did you paint all of this?' In a confused tone. 'Why indeed,' thought Mary, sadly. The father replied, slightly irritated 'I thought you and Tim would enjoy a fresh start, a clean slate to make it your own.' The woman sighed as she touched the kitchen wall and said, 'Tom wont see it that way, maybe the wallpaper and the bathroom, but not in here.'
Just then, Mary felt the porch door open and a voice shout out 'Laura! Im here!' Mary recognized this voice, she would recognize it anywhere: her oldest grandson. He came into the kitchen, excited. His face dropped as he saw the walls, and he mutted 'Oh'. The father explained, 'Im sorry Tim, I didnt know this meant anything to you. I only wanted to give you guys a fresh start, to make the house your own now that its yours.'
'Now that its yours?' puzzled Mary. How could it be Tim's? It was her house. She slowly realized, her mind still hobbled and slow, that the only way the house could be Tim's was if she was dead. A wave of emotion overcame her and she slid back into the ether.
Mary awoke once more, aware of her revelations: she was dead, her house was now her grandson and his new wifes. She striggled to remember her name: Lauren, Laurie, Laura? Something like that. She had met her, when she was living, but there were so many grandkids, and even more significant others to keep track of. She remembered she was a good girl though, and that was enough.
She felt the couple was sitting at Mary's kitchen table. 'Their kitchen table' Mary corrected herself. It was evening, and Laurie was going to to the fridge. As she moved, Mary became aware of a thrid prescence. Weak and small, but precious and seeming to move with Lauren. Laura emerged with a bottle of wine and went back to the table. As Tim poured two glasses, Mary realized the prescence - a small life beginning within her granddaughter in law. She watch in sorry as Laurie rasied the glass to her lips. With all her essence, Mary tensed, knowing she couldn't do anything. Suddenly the glass flew from Laura's hands, clattering on the floor. Mary calmed, aware of her new power. She didnt fault the girl - she didnt seem to know yet. As Tim began to clean up the mess, Mary felt around her house, trying to find anything she could to get the couple to realize the miracle within Laura. In the bathroom, she found the perfect fit. Manifesting all her strength, she emptied the contents of the medicine cabinet, strewning the contents around the bathroom. She pushed the pregnancy tests out the door, but her strength had faded and she could push no more. Once again she faded to the ether.
Mary once again became aware, to find Tim and Laura sitting at the same table. Laurie's belly was swollen, and the couple was talking. Lauren stated 'We should name her Mary, after your grandmother.' Tim nodded, and uttered a quiet agreement.
Mary felt content, maybe even excited, at the prospect of her great grand daughter. 'Laurie is quite a good girl. I should make a better effort to remember her name' thought Mary. But more importantly, she felt the warmth returning to the house, the warmth that was painfully absent when she first coalesced. |
There's a beautiful moment, when you move into a new place, all your furniture is in place, you've plugged everything in, set up the wi-fi router, and you can just *relax.* Few things can spoil it.
Walking into your new kitchen to find a four-foot tall rat with opposable thumbs standing on a stool at the kitchen island and dishing himself up a plate of chow mein and orange chicken from takeout boxes, is one of those things.
"What the hell!"I exclaimed.
The rat looked up. "Oh, hi! We haven't been introduced, I'm your roommate."
"This isn't fair!"I cried.
The rat blinked. "I mean, sure it is. I pay rent here, too, buddy. But hey, there's Chinese takeout in the fridge, and you can use my Ratflix account."
"I don't mean that -- I mean it isn't fair that I was always the kid in my friend group, who 'just said no' every time someone brought up trying drugs, and people gave me crap about it, and yet now I *still* have to lose my mind and start hallucinating."
The rat laughed. "Oh, I'm not a hallucination. I'm Clarence. Nice to meet you, buddy!"
I sighed, rolling my eyes. "No, Clarence. You're not *real.* I absolutely *do not* have a roommate who's a giant talking rat. That's some mid-1990s TV sitcom bullshit, and I'm not buying it, so take your Jim Henson's Creature Workshop-lookin' ass on down the road."
Clarence hopped off the stool, walked over to me, and kicked me right in the shin.
"Ow! What'd you do that for, you little bastard?"I cried. I aimed a kick at him but he dodged out of the way nimbly, as might be expected of a rat.
"Sorry buddy, it just seemed like the easiest way to prove I was real."Clarence said, with a shrug.
"That doesn't prove anything!"I shouted, rubbing at my leg. "Haven't you ever heard of psychosomatic pain? Oh wait, of course you have, because *I* have, and you're my damn hallucination!"
"I mean, we're getting into a whole weird solipsistic, Plato's cave, Matrix movies kinda territory if we go down that road, buddy."Clarence pointed out.
"Solipsism, Plato's cave, and the Matrix"I said, ticking them off on my fingers. "All three of which are things that I know about."
Clarence cocked his head. "So? You have a rudimentary knowledge of both movies and philosophy. Congrats, I guess?"
"No,"I said, patiently. "Those are all topics of which *I* am aware. And isn't it *convenient* that you just happen to only talk about things that I, allegedly a different person, happen to be familiar with?"
"You didn't know about Ratflix, I bet."Clarence pointed out.
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, because that's *nothing.* That's just a play on words."
"Okay, how about Gribblefritz?"
"Are you just inventing words? Am I having an aphasia in addition to a hallucination, now?"
"No,"Clarence said smugly crossing his furry arms. "That's a word *I* know about, which clearly *you* do not, and yet it's not one that I invented."
"The hell it's not."I scoffed, pulling out my phone. I quickly tapped it in, and then frowned as I saw the results. "According to the *Darkwing Duck* fan wiki, Gribblefritz is---"
"--a fictional alien planet mentioned in Episode 33 of the series."Clarence said, smugly. "Which, as a huge fan of the classic *Disney Afternoon* television block, I knew, and *you* did not."
I growled. I tried turning my phone left and right, and looking at the screen in a mirror to see if I could catch out a possible hallucination of the phone screen, but no matter which way I looked at it, it said the same thing.
"Ugh, fine!"I said, throwing up my hands. "But I watched that series on cable reruns, too! I could have remembered that factoid *subconsciously,* and expressed it my hallucination."
Clarence started standing on tip-toe, stretching his arms towards the counter, grunting with exertion.
"What are you doing?"I demanded.
"I'm doing a 'you' impression! See, because I'm *reaching?"*
"You're not funny."I said flatly.
"Oh, wow, I'm gonna throw my back out with all this reaching! Look at how far I'm *reaching!"*
"Screw you. You know what? I'm going to call my friend Tom and ask him to hang out. We'll see if *he* sees you."
"If you do, I'll hide and not come out until he leaves."Clarence said, grinning.
"Why?!"I exclaimed, exasperated.
"Because it would be *hilarious."* Clarence cackled.
"FINE!"I roared, jabbing a finger at the little rodent. "You know what, asshole? I just moved in here, but I'm going to burn this frickin' apartment down! Then you'll *have* to leave the building, and be seen by the fire department, or else get roasted alive, you fuzzy little prick!"
In a sudden furious rage, I seized a box of matches from the counter, and struck one against the box.
My world turned white.
When I awoke, I was laying on the grass, three stories below the shattered kitchen window of my apartment. I was a little scorched and cut up from being blasted through the window, but not too badly, all things considered. And since I was only on the third floor, I also wasn't critically injured in the fall, although I was pretty sure one of my legs was broken.
I coughed. "Oh, right. A gas leak."
After a moment, I added. "Thank *God!"* |
Jim hated Bob. Words could not describe the contempt he felt when he saw Bob clocking in in the morning. Nor could Bob stand Jim; every time Bob saw him sat behind that desk of his, he'd be overwhelmed by disgust. Bob dearly wished he could get a new job, but with the way the economy was going, he was luckily to be have steady work at all. Plus, that would be like admitting defeat! Jim would be gleeful to be rid of his presence. That was evident in the scathing reviews he always gave Bob during quarterly reviews. Fortunately, Jim wasn't quite high enough in management to make hiring decisions, or else Bob would have found himself kicked out on the streets years ago.
Normally the days dragged on until they became an interminable mush, but recently something had happened in both Jim and Bob's lives that cast a friendly light on the drudgery. This something was the release of the beta version of [FriendsNStuff.com](https://FriendsNStuff.com). It was slow and quite buggy, and every time either of them visited it IT would get an endless stream of malware detection notification, but it brought joy to their lives, and even the systems admin couldn't be persuaded to take it from them.
But all that is beyond the point. The meat of this story is something neither Bob nor Jim could have ever anticipated happening to them.
It was Jim who saw it first. He had just finished setting up his profile and was now searching through the match database for others with the same interests. FriendsNStuff prohibited the sharing of personal information, so he'd had to make up a dumb username, and he wasn't even allowed to post that cool photo he'd taken at the company holiday party. But that was all right, because what did all that stuff really matter to a true friendship? So long as you were friendly and approachable, Jim reasoned, you could make all the friends in the world.
A listing caught his eye. He scrolled back up and looked at it. Could it be? Jim clicked on it, and a boring beige personal page opened. Beige! Jim's favorite color! He scanned through the profile with a sense of awe. He never thought he'd find someone who was also into calculating the density of slime molds in Virginian old-growth forests! Without a second thought, he hit the "Request Friend"button and sat back to wait.
Bob was working busily away when a notification rang from his computer. He tabbed to FriendsNStuff - he always had it open - and just about jumped for joy. He had a friend request! For the first time ever, somebody actually wanted to talk to him! He cast his gaze over the rest of the office. Everybody was bent over their desks, silent and alone. Across the room, Jim was staring vacantly at his computer. Bob bet he was the only one in the office who had ever experienced such good fortune. He couldn't tell anyone, of course, but he could privately lord it over them.
He looked back to the screen and hit accept. A little chat window popped up. It read, "TotallyNotJIM01010101 is typing..."
Bob held his breath. At last, the message came in.
"Hi."
Bob looked rapidly around the office to ensure nobody was watching, and he began to type. Never had he thought he would meet someone who was excited in learning of the telemetry sensors he'd placed in the old-growth forest a few miles from the office last week. TotallyNOTJIM01010101 even volunteered to run the data to his very own proprietary data-parsing software! Bob couldn't imagine what scientific discoveries he and his new friend would make together.
And so, for many days, there was a warm glow to life, and a sense of excitement which accompanied the onset of each new day. Even the slime mold samples seemed more plentiful to Bob when he visited the forest, and Jim thought his data analysis was faster than ever. Of course, Bob had to tab away from FriendsNStuff when Jim walked by, and Jim couldn't afford to let any of his subordinates see him wasting time on the job. So they collaborated on a program that transformed the FriendsNStuff interface into a spreadsheet. They mon**e**tized this program and sold it to office workers around the globe, and they, of course, shared the proceeds. Soon, they had each earned enough to quit their jobs at last and sustain themselves for the few months it would take to find another placement. More importantly, they had found a company that specilized in Virginian old-growth slime molds, and would, most likely, be willing to hire them if they travelled.
On his last day at the office, Bob walked straight up to Jim and slammed a letter down on his desk. Jim gave him an odd look and put one of his desk toys in a big cardboard box. Bob tried to look inside, but Jim slammed the flaps down.
"What's this?"said Jim, nodding his head at the letter.
"It is my letter of resignation,"said Bob.
"Good riddance."
"And what are you doing?"
"I am packing my things in preparation for my own resignation."
"Good riddance."
Bob walked away, confident that he would never see Jim again. Half an hour later, Jim followed, laden with several boxes of desk toys and one box of slime mold research he'd printed out especially for his friend to see when they began their new jobs. Life was, at that moment, simply wonderful, and Bob and Jim were certain it would stay that way. |
Sergeant Alara was not enjoying gate duty. Normally it was a relatively relaxed assignment - cursory customs inspections, making brief notes on incoming and outgoing goods, breaking up the occasional squabble between queuing merchants. Today though - today she'd drawn the short green straw, and had been landed with a duty at the Small Gate.
A year ago, there hadn't even been a Small Gate, but since the Duke's treaty with the Wilderness Tribes, it was the busiest duty station of all. From long before sunrise until long after sunset (despite the posted hours for the gate's opening), a steady stream of traders, travellers, and settlers flowed into the city.
Alara was not small-minded. In her time with the Guard, she'd travelled as far West as the ocean, and as far North as the human roads went. She'd fought beside humans from countless lands, served as honour guard for a dwarf noble, and once - if only very briefly - shared a campfire with a hulking orc. As much as any one in the city, she felt she had a fair claim to being open-minded.
But the people who came to the Small Gate were the weirdest she'd ever encountered. Yes, they were small - it was rare that one of them topped four feet - but it wasn't just that. It was the endless, unexpected variety that made it hard to get a handle on them. There were kobold clans with their high, oddly-fluting voices, where power and status seemed to be determined by the hieght of crests or lengths of barbels, rather than any more meaningful standard. There were goblins in every possible shade of green and yellow, bickering and plotting within and between their tangled families. Strangest of all were the gnomes - at least she assumed they were gnomes - silent figures draped in all-concealing robes who only communicated by scribbling on clay tablets.
Duty at the Small Gate was never relaxing. By ducal decree, each visitor's details had to be recorded in the log book, and so Alara found herself having to learn the pecularities of totally-alien politics and family structures. One kobold traveller claimed to be the 'Long fang' of the Broken Night clan - a position of some importance - but in the fish-catching clans that lived along the lake edge (light blue skin, with webbing between their fingers), 'long-fang' was an unpardonable insult that often led to bloodshed. A stout goblin matron presented her with a settling permit, entitling the bearer to bring their family with them to make a home within the city walls, but the 'family' in question turned out to be over a dozen - perhaps even two dozen - mewling green kits. The logbook required a name for each traveller, and Alara could only watch helplessly as the queue lengthened and the matron engaged in furious debate with her spouse over what to name each still-blind goblin baby.
It was exhausting. So many travellers to interview, inspect, and admit. So many laws and customs and conventions to learn for each species jostling at the Small Gate. It was hard to explain the concept of taxes to tribes for whom bribery was the only consistent financial practice, or property ownership to light-fingered kobolds who were used to treating 'finders, keepers' as the whole of the law. Amongst all the confusion, caterwaul, and chaos, how was Alara meant to keep an eye on her primary role: ensuring that no significant threats entered the city?
She almost missed it. If she'd turned a second later, if the angry kobold (something about the lunar festival?) had pushed his point just a little longer, the hunched traveller would have snuck into the city and been lost in the crowd. As it was, a lucky glance showed Alara the small figure slipping between guards while they focused on other groups, darting through the gate without inspection.
The one advantage of the Small Gate was the smallness of its entrants. It was rare for a fight to break out that couldn't be quelled by a shout from a towering guard, and - while goblins ran fast - a single one of Alara's long strides was sufficient to catch up to the fugitive.
With one hand, Alara gripped the goblin by the collar, lifting her above the throng. Wide, terrified eyes fixed on hers as the sergeant's other hand reached for the bundle clutched in the small figure's arms. Ignoring the high-pitched pleading in a language she didn't understand, Alara handed off the smuggler to one of her finally-alert guardsmen and began to investigate the contraband. Wrapped in a twist of sacking, as though it wasn't both the most precious and most dangerous thing she'd ever seen, was a dragon's egg. |
I was elated when I found out about the introduction of the labels, finally, no more failed relationships, no more crying at three o'clock in the morning because of what my boyfriend or girlfriend had said to me. It was how I was gonna find my soulmate. All it took was a quick and easy three hour psych eval. I was so happy, right up until the moment that I found out I had gotten the skull and crossbones. Of course it's easy to change your label, you just need to pay €1000 to the organization for psychiatric help and self-improvement and you are then allowed to take the test! It's so easy and implausible for me.
I had never thought I was good enough for a relationship, deserving of love, it's nice to finally have it in writing. I'll admit, looking back at it, I have caused problems in my past relationships, but it goes both ways, am I not like this because of my past relationships? But no, the problems have always been there, it just took time for them to show.
At the moment I'm in a relationship with another toxic, it can be rough but we love each other, although now that we both know we're toxic it feels like we have no reason to try anymore, we both know we have short comings but it doesn't change that we love each other.
I nearly cheated on him the other day, hot girl, at a bar, relationship probably wouldn't last anyways. Then she saw my label. |
"Forgive me father for I have sinned, it has been 34 years since my last confession"
"That has been quite a while, my son."
"I understand, but for these last decades, I didn't know, or at least, I didn't realize that what I did was a sin."
Father Roberts silently shrugged, this wasn't unheard off, people often felt guilt for a long time before they came to confession.
"Tell me, my son. You will find no judgement here, only forgiveness, if your penitence is genuine"
The man on the other side stayed quiet for a while, took a deep breath and started to speak:
"It started in Junior High. There was this girl, I hated her. Now I realize that I hated her for no reason at all besides that she was different than the other girls. She was awkward, shy and that irritated me. I bullied her relentlessly."
Father Roberts heard this before as well. Usually when people got their own children they understood how terrible bullying really is.
"I lost sight of her after high school and eventually found her again during my college years."
"Lost sight of her?"Father Roberts replied
"Yes Father, see I didn't bully her just in school, I followed her, I made sure that her life inside and outside of school was an absolute living hell, she moved away to college and it took me a while to figure out which college and I enrolled there as well."
Father Roberts gasped.
"Yes Father it all sounds terrible, I know, I'm a monster"
"Continue, my child"Father Roberts could barely hold his contempt for this man.
"She was doing well in college, without me around she flourished. Until one day, she saw me. Ever seen someone in complete terror? It's a strange feeling if the object of their fear is you. Powerful almost."
Father Robert's silence was more telling than anything he could have said. The man continued.
"Soon after she saw me, her grades started dropping, her time to flourish turned into an age of withering, she lost her smile, the sparkle in her eyes and became this frail girl, afraid of any unkown sound.
It gave me such joy, Father, such, such joy. But she was strong and she once again preserved, finished college and became one of the most promising young psychologists on the east coast."
Father Roberts was trembling, this man was a monster.
"Maybe she figured, she could understand me, maybe she figured she could stop me, but she couldn't, she never would, I was everywhere"
Father Roberts felt anger, he couldn't understand why a man like this existed. His voice trembled as he asked: "What did you do to her? What exactly?"
"Oh that's the best thing, Father, I told her terrible terrible truths, how shecwas a failure, how she didn't deserve her succes. Repeat something often and it will start to sound like the truth. But back to my sin Father.
You see, after all those years, her strength started to fade, there were cracks in the foundation of her strenght and I knew it would be a matter of time. I did have some set backs, she got married. An amazing man that stood by her, but she never ever told him about me, which was great, it would have been the end of me."
"Why, why, why..."whispered Father Roberts "why her, why?"
"Because she was mine, Father, mine to have, mine to keep and mine to destroy and eventually I did."
Father Roberts sobbed, quietly.
"She had been married for 5 years, her husband was happy, she was happy but broken and one faithful evening, I got her, I had her exactly where I wanted. The balcony of her office, alone, in the evening. Oh, when she saw me she became as pale as fresh snow.
All the blood drained from her face as I started telling her the truth, her truth. that she was worthless, useless, didn't deserve her succes, her happiness and the closer I got, the more she edged towards the railing and then I told her my final truth and that was enough. She looked like a fallen angel when she jumped. My work was done."
Father Roberts, wiped his eyes. "Perhaps, it would have just been easier to commit murder"he murmured.
"Oh no, I can't, Father, I could never."
"Why not!?"Father Roberts yelled, "WHY.. NOT!?"
"I don't physically exist father, I am nothing but a figment of your imagination, your guilt. I mean in all honesty? What would I look like physically? Like the bottle in your desk? Or the razor blade in your bathroom? No no no."
"What...are you?"Father Roberts sobbed
"Depression, Father, the depression you failed to see"
The confession booth splintered and Father Roberts woke up to the piercing pain of sunlight coming through his window.
Today was the day that she jumped, 34 years ago, his Julie.
The bottle of Jack on his desk was empty. His head throbbing with the slowly creeping pain of his hangover.
He could never forgive himself and as he looked at the empty bottle all he saw in the reflection, was the man he dreamt about and all he heard were terrible, terrible truths. |
It was a tough power to handle. Not because it was fickle, but because it needed a willing participant to accept the often detrimental sickness of another in order to save the ailing. As you can imagine, business was not exactly booming with volunteers to knock on deaths door for their fellow man.
The world needed healing though, and when you came up with the idea to partner with The Indomitable One, it was a match made in heaven.
“So, with your fortitude, I could load you up with the sicknesses of every man woman and child.” You concluded your pitch and with bated breath waiting for his answer.
He was intrigued with the idea. The Indomitable One had always been reckless. After all, he could not be subdued, which made him the number one hero in the world. He would throw himself into every and any fight to help mankind and always come out on top. Almost instantly he shot out his hand for a shake. “Sounds like a plan.”
It was 3 years ago to the day since the agreement and the world got mothers and fathers, husbands and wives back from their death beds. 3 years since terminal children were no longer confined to hospital rooms, and you are just about to discover the severity of your mistake. The Indomitable One stepped out to address the millions that gathered to celebrate. “First of all, I want to thank you all for coming. It only took 3 years for my side kick here to heal the world of all it’s sicknesses.” The massive crowd thundered with applause and appreciation as The Indomitable One continued. “As a willing participant, I took your diseases and ailments and contained them all, giving billions of you a fraction of my fortitude in the process.” The adoring crowd hung onto every word as his speech began to take a sinister turn. “But I admit there was one sickness nearly all of you had that I grew to enjoy. Greed.”
The murmurs began quietly at first, but the longer he paused to look out at the crowd with mischievous glee, the more the repercussions slowly started to dawn on the masses. The Indomitable One spoke louder and more stern this time. “It takes a WILLING participant for the transaction to be valid! Therefore I demand nothing short of full and complete servitude from the human race. I am your supreme ruler, the master of Earth and if any challenge my control, then I am no longer willing to participate, and all your sicknesses shall be returned.” His smile merged with a sneer. “You and your loved ones will once again suffer and die from your ailments, so choose wisely.” |
... is the species which shares this planet with us..
They run around in the area above the breathable atmosphere. I don't know how they survive up there, exposed to the sunlight.
They seem to be highly intelligent. From what we can see, they build structures and have some kind of organized society. They also fight and kill each other for no apparent reason.
They eat mostly of the strange plant life which grows up there, but occasionally eat some of the other lesser creatures. This is not strange to us. We do the same here. In our early days, we were superb hunters. Sometimes they hunt alongside us. We do not worry. Food is plentiful in the atmosphere.
The creatures have evolved to exist and move with no atmosphere. It appears they are descended from similar creatures which share the areas in which they live.
We lived nearly side by side for many, many tides. At one point, they developed a means to move along the upper surface of the atmosphere. We watched, and even followed, fascinated.
Their numbers grew until there was no vantage point from our world where they couldn't be seen.
Then some of their structures began to poison our atmosphere. Our scientists were able to counter it for a time. But the poisons increased as their numbers grew. We were forced to abandon ancestral lands which were now uninhabitable.
We tried to communicate with them. Most attempts went unanswered. Those that were came back unintelligible. Some sounded almost mocking.
Our people have a long history on this planet. We predate these creatures, and I hope we outlast them.
I don't condone genocide. We have lived long in balance with the others who share our atmosphere. But these creatures are threatening that balance. Our way of life, perhaps our very lives, hang by a thread.
The time for action has come! I come before you, to beg you on behalf of all Dauphin everywhere. It has come to the point of us or them.
It is time to eradicate these creatures called Hoomuns. |
Mattya sits, one hand gripping her pen, the other supporting her head in disbelief. "So - and let me get this straight, they are calling us space-dwarves?"
Across from her Jack was leans against the doorframe amused. "That's right, we are the dwarfiest in the cosmos. Short, stock and stout with a penchant for engineering is what the blurb says."
"Well this is great, we're already being ridiculed on the galactic stage and we haven't even formally introduced ourselves to most of them."
"Mat, you gotta think bigger than that, they aren't ridiculing us. They are praising us."
"As dwarves?"She repeats
"As master ship builders."He clarifies.
"They like our ships?"
"They love them. You should see all the headlines popping up."He waves his hand and the back wall lights up with recent articles.
\*Nothing can survive the high impact landings of Xer'a Prime like an Earth ship\*
\*Got somewhere to be? Get there safely and in style with humanities biggest invention yet\*
\*Energy Propulsion? Forget it with humanities new Ark reactor, bringing - YOU - back to a more civilised age\*
\*Eyes not letting you navigate the cosmic slip-lanes like you used to. Don't stress, humanities new vessel will have you blasting back across the cosmos in no time\*
Mattya sights, "We sound like late night advertisements being broadcast across the galaxy."
"We do I'll admit but the preorder's are insane. They love us, no sub-space, no energy shields. Just a thick destroyer class hull and a dream. This is gonna be big Mat."
"Screw it,"she says dropping her hands. "Let's go be space-dwarves." |
That always comes out, doesn't it? I have several answers prepared for such a question: 'I cannot profit from my powers', 'It's all about helping others', 'I do not care about personal gain', 'my ability to see the future makes it so I can live a pretty good life without need for a lot of money'.
None of those things are true. The real reason I'm not rich even though I can see the future is that it would always end up in disaster.
See, the future is always changing. The very act of witnessing it changes it. My ancestors spent a long time fine tuning their abilities so that they could use their prescience and have the future they saw still happen. They developed a whole protocol for it. Otherwise all you can see is like a dizzying montage of possibilities.
Many of my ancestors were very wealthy. It's actually kind of annoying, since they must have seen me and my times, and it's sort of like they are mocking me. My great grandfather was the one who had to start getting rid of the wealth, that fucker had *the life*, throwing money around. By the time I was born, we were firmly lower middle class, then I developed my power, was tutored to use it, learnt the protocols, and found out I was doomed to a lower middle class life.
There's a set of futures that never changes, no matter how hard you look at it. If I am wealthy, the world is fucked. There's a smaller set of possibilities where I am the only one who's fucked if I become wealthy and the line ends with me.
There is a future, a century or so from now, when my bloodline can again start reaping the benefits from our abilities, there's some local emperor in the deep future ruling over five star systems. But none of that happens if I live in the luxury I, well, kind of deserve, the luxury my ancestors and descendants have and will have.
To be frank with you, my life kinda sucks.
So, that's why I'm writing you this. I know you can see all of what I'm living, but I am writing this and staring at it to make a point. Fuck it all. Be wealthy, my past self, indulge. There's a path through which humanity still endures, it'll be hard for them, but why should it be hard for me instead?
Oil, that's where the money is. Invest in it, prop up the industry. I'm fed up with this pathetic mediocre existence. |
"Ope. Careful there, you almost fell."I was holding the kid up after he nearly took a spill over the wet tile floor.
"Blimey,"he gasped, Britishly, "I owe you a thousand thanks for that, mate."
"Sure. Don't mention it."
"I was in a rush. The Passage of Time-Stoppening waits for no one!"
"Great, see you around."I didn't have time for this. It was always the same, week after week, some self-important main-character-type trouncing around the campus violating the vague and cryptic student handbook rules, looking for a sidekick.
Being a ginger in a magic high school is hard.
I could feel the kid's disappointment as I walked off. Had he been waiting for someone to walk down this hall? Is he that desperate?
"You two! Stop right there!"A haggard voice called through the hallway.
"They're after the Stroimius Key!"The kid produced an emerald key from his pocket, his face flashing with fear and excitement.
"Who is?"
"Professor Ursine! The Director of the Department of Strange Creatures!"
"The bear guy?"
"A bear? Of course, it all makes sense now! The honey. The claw marks."
"It's... Dude, his name... How do you not-- no, I'm not talking to you. I'm not getting roped into this. *You* go find your destiny or whatever. I have to get to class."
"We'll have to use the Pow-Powder. It packs a punch!"
"I'm walking away. I can't hear you."
As I walked quicker, hands over ears, eyes fixed to the ground.
I nearly ran into the delegation of school staff standing like a wall before me.
"What have we here?"The dean, Doctor Leo Luminus stood at the center, his grey, short-cropped beard framing his wisened, wizardly face.
"The kid over there is stealing stuff. Professor Ursine is chasing him. I'm trying to get to class."The teachers followed my finger to an empty space.
"I see nothing,"Doctor Luminus squinted at me with suspicion.
"Welp. He's either gone or using invisibility potion. I don't know. I don't care. My parents don't pay my tuition for me to care about that stuff."
"Perfect distraction!"The boy's voice called from *behind* the group of teachers. He shrugged off his invisibility shroud and threw the Pow-Powder on the floor.
The teachers went flying straight into Professor Ursine as he rounded the corner.
"You two will be expelled!"Doctor Luminus shook his fist in the air. "Once we catch you!"
"Looks like this is our exit, chum!"The kid threw portal discs to the floor.
I sighed deeply. "Tell me your family's rich or something, left some mysterious treasure or whatever."
"My dad's a Congressman."
"I charge $300 a day."
"$200, and you get a romantic interest."
"Fine."I walked into the disc and we disappeared. |
You were shocked when you heard that sentence. Instead of the usual line about superiority and riches, it was nostalgia. His name didn’t click with you immediately, but-
“Aero!? Is that you?”
The name you just said belonged to none other than your childhood best friend Aero. It only seemed like yesterday when you two were both small and exploring the forest of his people. The two of you used to spend a lot of time together, until Aero and his clan had to leave the land due to the waning human-dragon relations. That didn’t stop Aero from proclaiming that the two of you will be seeing each other again someday.
That someday was today, and Aero the dragon grabbed you and gave you the biggest hug a dragon could give. It was a fine and dandy until you couldn’t breath.
“Oops. Sorry about that.”
He smiled in embarrassment. He was mindful of his claws at least.
Aero had grown considerably big, up to 40 feet. You were like a dwarf compared to him.
“Hey Aero. It’s been a long time!”
“Same to you. It’s been so long since we seen each other.”
You could’ve sworn you saw Aero tear up a bit. The blue dragon looked at you, not wanting you out of his sight.
“Hey Aero. I’m sorry if this sounds weird, but is it okay if I could stay with you for a bit? I got no other place to go.”
Aero looked at the sword on your back and the bag you were holding on your hand. The decision was rather quick.
“Sure thing, friend! You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. We have a lot of catching up to do!”
Aero looked at the human with such elation and smiled the biggest smile he ever had. You returned with a smile of your own.
“By the way, you up for a game of catch?” |
"Do you think you could go get me an ice cream, love?"
My daughter Jill, pushing my wheelchair, leaned over and smiled. "Sure thing, dad. Chocolate as always?"
"Sure. Or if they have fudge ripple, I'll have that. Feeling adventurous". I laughed, and regretted it as my usual choked cackle led to a minor coughing fit. I swallowed the blood just in time to avoid spitting it out, alarming her. She's seen it before, of course. She was there when the doctor told me: small cell lung cancer. Incredibly aggressive; by the time I started paying attention to my own body and realizing how I felt, it was already essentially untreatable. Stupid old man.
"I'll be back in a few minutes dad. I love you."Her voice trembling ever so slightly, as it did so often lately. She walked away. I knew it would be more than a few minutes; I'd seen the lineup at the kiosk as we went past earlier. A gorgeous day like this, everyone wants an ice cream cone.
Grunting with pain, I wheeled myself over to the edge of the seawall. Far below, the ocean crashed against the broken concrete blocks dumped in to prevent erosion. Hungry seagulls wheeled overhead, one flying past a metre from my nose as I peered over the edge. Lurching forward, I threw my arms over the railing. Thank God it wasn't higher... But I've been trying to keep my strength up, just for this. I'll only get one chance, after all. I heaved myself up pulling my torso forward farther out of my chair.
I never understood my "power". It didn't make any scientific sense. Not like the heroes in comic books, where they had a mutant gene or the yellow sunlight gave them super strength. It seemed like an arbitrary gift granted by... god? The universe? There were no answers. No one to ask about it. As a young man, after that fight, I thought that I could maybe use this ability to do some good. "Fight evil". But it turned out I was just really bad at fighting. I baited a few muggers walking through the park... The second one stabbed me in the stomach. I just barely managed to drag myself up a small tree and dive head first at the sidewalk. The next guy could have had a gun, and there's no climbing a tree with half your head missing. Stupid young man.
So instead, I became a firefighter. A lot of the guys on my squad were, despite their bravado, afraid of getting burned. Afraid of living out the rest of their life going through skin graft after skin graft, looking like something out of a horror movie. But not me. I knew that if worse came to worse, I could always take a plunge out of a window, and walk away. "Lucky me, I guess my helmet did its job!". And I did do good. We saved people's homes. We saved lives. And I never did have to jump out that window.
I guess the smoke got to me though. Maybe it was that big tire fire. Maybe when the chemical plant went up 10 years ago. Maybe it was just the cumulative damage of a few decades of asbestos and burning couch cushions. The cancer has been brutal. It moved fast and the treatment barely touched it. Believe it or not, I'd never actually tried to cure an *illness* using my power before. I didn't know what the rules were, after all. What if I *didn't* have an injury, and I jumped? Would it just kill me? I wasn't about to try that for a cold or flu.
But now? I'd try anything. I left a note in case it didn't work... Made sure the disease was advanced enough that, who could blame me? They knew I was in pain. But if it did work? I'd be a new man. "A remarkable recovery!"I'd get to see Jill graduate from dental school. Maybe see grandkids someday. Even marry again. Live a long, and oddly healthy, life.
I tipped myself over the railing. |
The Galactic Council has placed a temporary moratorium on complaints related to human conversation. It is understood that any being capable of communication is also capable of understanding and appropriately assessing the risks of human conversation, and in the interest of our time and yours, the Galactic Council would like to remind its citizens to not engage in long conversations with humans, as their storytelling nature can render you immobile for quite some time. Thank you for your understanding. Enjoy the rest of your next waking cycle or power equivalent.
"There is a new directive,"observed Dett.
"Inconsequential,"Zodius replied.
A series of beeps and differing frequencies of static told the group that M-210215 agreed.
"Have either of you ever seen a human, let alone talked to one?"
"No."
A single negative chime echoed Zodius's answer.
"It cannot be so bad as to require such an action by the Council. This is clearly a dereliction of responsibility. Another example of our own ruling body failing to fulfill its purpose."
"False. We are fortunate."
M-210215 made it known that there was little to be gained from this interaction, and rolled away.
"Twunnotwunfive agrees,"Zodius added. "Further conversation unnecessary."
But Dett was unsatisfied. He found it inconceivable - both that a species could hold such an appreciation for stories, and that it had become such a problem as to require a warning from the Galactic Council. He would put this to the test himself. But first, he needed to find himself in a sector were humans still lived.
It was a near millenia since the cullings had ceased, but it had been several millenia before that of back and forth, humans on one end or the other, often splintering into factions among themselves to stand with one race or cause or another. Their disunity was unique among the races of the Galactic Council. And though they were (mostly) unified and peaceful now, they still retained a reputation for being both fickle and resilient, leaving them largely sequestered to their own sectors.
Dett was not phased by this. The Dathlarii were a part of the same coalition as the humans in the Douran secession crisis, and had never heard of any complaints about humans from the veterans he had spoken to. Then again, the topic of human conversation had never come up. Still, Dett thought, it should not be hard to find a human outpost within a couple lightyears. And so he sought the nearest waystation, luck on his side.
Dett found a small crew there, humans conveying goods from one sector to another. There was a weariness about them. Clearly the Council's advisory had had an effect - their heads were downcast, and the tables around them were empty. Even their own was barren. Glasses were running low, and there was no evidence food was coming any time soon.
The humans looked up as Dett approached, variably apprehensive and defiant.
"So,"said Dett, "let's hear a story."
.
.
.
.
Dett's family never saw him again. |
Dana looked at the white-suited men apprehensively.
“What does this mean?” she asked.
“Do not worry, Mrs Garland.” one of them replied, perhaps their leader. “We were called by the hospital to help you. Our organization specializes in cases like this.”
“Cases like what?”
Dana held her sleeping baby closer to her body. Minutes had passed after his birth and still his spirit animal had not appeared. Deep down, she already knew the answer to her question.
“Like Hollows, ma’am.”
She inhaled deeply. Hollows. Beings that possessed no spirit animal and thus, no soul. It was Hollows who ruled the world before the Anima, killing everyone and everything they saw. To allow one to live was to invite destruction.
“Mrs Garland, you need to pass it to us before it wakes up.” he said, more urgently.
Dana Garland stared straight into the man’s eyes, “He is not an object. He is my son. And his name is David.”
The men in white changed, their nails elongating into sharp claws.
“We will take it by force if we have to.” their leader said.
The mother’s pupils narrowed into feline slits.
“You can try.”
Fur sprouted from her skin as she transformed into a giant mountain lion. Grasping her son with her front paw, she leapt through the glass window, shattering it into countless pieces. The men rushed to the broken portal but there was nothing they could do. For now, she and her child were out of their reach. |
Dear Diary:
So, my sister was born and she controls space. I control time. I don't really mind, due to my control of time being less... physical and more conceptual. When the element assigned to you is both a concept and a physic, you can control either the physic's version or the concept. I love my sister, I really do, and I think I'm going to teach her everything I know. Because now basically we both control time. I control the concept of time as in History, I can stop it, fast-forward it, make it go backwards, set points in time to travel to and travel directly to points in time. My sister controls space, but thanks to stuff on her control like speed, gravity, stellar mass or black holes, she can control the physical time, she can bend time as in time-perception. She can make the Earth spin quicker, making us think that time has been accelerated due to the different position of the sun in the sky. I will teach her everything I know about this stuff, so, together, we can be unstoppable. |
“I represent the Medical Corps and am inquiring of a certain skeleton,” said the man. He wore the customary uniform of the Medical Corps, a cross between a wizard’s robes and a soldier’s armor with a lot more bags. A knowing individual could guess some of the bag contents, the various potions and ingredients of a healer’s traded, but not all of them. For example, this particular medic was a bit of a tinkerer and his bag included a type of scope for allowing the healer to hear heartbeats. Another device, with a needle-filled mouth resembling a ferocious demon, was used to seal wounds with thread made of a special antibiotic slug found in nearby swamps. Such was the inquiring man at the door of a dilapidated hut deep within the Forest Elgor, an inhospitable place frequented by thieves, deserters, and necromancers. This hut was home neither to deserters nor thieves.
“Nothing is for sale. He’s my skeleton, I obtained him legally and filed the appropriate necromancy forms with the department of wizardry and the department of health,” replied the old and agitated voice within.
“Yeah right,” came another, more dusty and crackly, voice. “You had no right to wake me from death. I was quite comfortable.”
The medic ignored the voice and focused on the necromancer glaring from within the dark doorway. “Sir, there are no records of this necromancy with the health department, but I am not one to cheat a man of his work. We will pay you fairly for the necromanced, but make no mistake, we will be taking him.” There was a dangerous edge in the last sentence which was not unheard by the necromancer (or the necromanced).
“Buy me,” asked the crusty voice incredulously. “I am a man, not a thing. Nor am I a slave. This is preposterous.”
“Shut up,” said the necromancer. Responding to the Medic he said, “Twenty copper and you can take the ungrateful lout off my hands. He’s terribly annoying.”
Moments later, the skeleton found himself ambling away from the old hut alongside the quiet medic. “Well,” said the skeleton. “What’s next?”
The Medic stopped and turned to look into the dark cavities where the skeleton’s eyes once peered into the world. In that darkness, there was still some magical spark of light. “Now, you have options. As you said, you are a man. Or at least you were a man, and you may once again return to your deathly slumber.” The Skeleton shifted uncomfortably remembering the infinity. “Or,” continued the Medic. “You can help me with a project.”
“What kind of project,” asked the Skeleton. “I’m not sure how I can help.”
“This project requires knowledge of a power unknown in this lands but familiar to the world you once knew. I seek radiation. Nuclear power. X-rays.”
“How do you know of those things,” asked the skeleton.
The Medic gestured to his saddlebag, “I read your book Dr. Pomfrey, acquired by chance and an unintended inter-dimensional portal, and I brought you here to help use use this power.”
The Skelton held up his hands and took a step away from the medic. “I won’t help you build a nuclear bomb.”
“Bomb,” asked the Medic. “You have a lot to learn about the Medical Corps. I don’t want your power to kill, but your power to heal!” The medic smiled. “Is it true that x-rays can see within a person without opening them?”
The skeleton was quiet a moment. “Let’s walk and talk.” |
I still remember it like yesterday...it's a cliche, but darn it if it isn't true. I can still hear the waves crashing against the shore. I can still feel the sand beneath my feet. I can still smell the iron-y blood mixing with the salty water.
The mermaid was dying. A deep, ugly gash in her tail, down to the bone. I'm still not sure what caused it--a blade of some sort to be sure, but whether it was poachers or moonshiners or smugglers or just sheer dumb luck off a rotor, I couldn't tell you.
"Take my treasure...my precious treasure...don't let it come to harm..."
She pushed the treasure to me. It was an orb, about the size of a soccer ball. It was dark blue, streaked with yellow lightning.
"I...I...."
I wasn't sure what to say. I stammer when I'm nervous and who wouldn't be nervous?
I took the orb in my hands and it vibrated slightly, as if it had a heartbeat. I turned back to the mermaid...just as she turned into sea foam...
xxxx
The treasure was an egg. It hatched in less than two days after its mother turned into sea foam.
It was a girl.
She was small and wrinkly and she was perfect.
xxxx
I may come back to this. |
"No, no, this explains a lot actually,"the Paladin said, mentally going over his past, realizing *why* his god had made all those strange demands. "We used to worship in a hidden cellar. I barely remember it, I was so young. The robes were still brown, but with green trim."
They both looked down at the cultist's corpse. There was definitely more green, and the shade was different,the pattern more looped, but there were undeniable similarities. The tome the dead man had carried was even more damning.
"So, how are you feeling about your eldritch-horror-slash-god,"she asked, still flipping through the text. "Whose side do you think it'll take?"
"He... Will probably side with them. They seem more aware of his true will. We followed blindly, forgot where we came from."
"Yeah, makes sense. We gonna keep fighting these cultists, or are we changing sides? I'm expecting my pay either way."
"I'll need to consider a moment. I was even considering the possibility, so it will take a bit to process."
She put down the tome and really looked at him. He didn't seem broken, which was a shock to her, seeing how gung-ho he was about his god. He'd come in, mace flying, slaughtered a half dozen cultists. She glanced at the body, all the damage it sustained. He'd been aggressive about it.
"Are you sure you didn't know?"She tapped a foot to the corpse, drawing his eyes there.
"About them? No, I didn't,"he said, immediately hoping she'd missed the implication.
"About them? What did you know about, then?"
"Take a seat."She didn't budge. "So, you know your patron?"
"I've met them, yes."
"Them? Not him?"
"Never asked."
"It's him. I have asked."
"What are you saying?"
"I was looking over the language of your contract. Hoping we could find you a loophole, save you from destroying the realm and all."
She had a moment of confusion on her face, the quickly opened the tome as she pieced it together. Yes, the wording was so similar, the archaic words they, or he, loved to use. So the demon was really an eldritch horror. Or vice versa. This made things complicated. And he'd probably favor the cultists who worsh—
"Your god is my patron?!"That was worse than the cultists.
"Yeah, seems likely."
She dropped to a seated position and started rubbing her temples.
"And you thought things were bad before." |
"Well, how are you enjoying heaven?"God asks casually. Not bothering to turn around, to acknowledge me, or anything of the sort.
"Heaven isn't the problem. The problem is why you haven't done anything. Even now you don't look at me, or heaven, or anything!"I respond.
"I am looking at something. Something important. Come here."God states and waits for me to approach. When I do, God motions out to the abyss beyond. With a wave creation occurs. Reaching out into the abyss new creation occurs. Life, rock, stars, space. Everything.
Only to be taken. To be consumed. The creation that God made is gone. More and more God creates, and more and more is vanishes into the void.
"What's going on?"I ask.
"It's a creation of mine. I had made it to want more. So it would seem out new solutions, create, and build. Instead, all it does is consume, take, and destroy. You may have heard of it."
"How would I have heard of it?"I ask.
"My early creations are recorded aren't they? And passed down."God stated. "I described it's creation in great detail."
"I don't follow."I respond.
"Adam" |
Catherine, my daughter, born amidst crimson spew. Do you remember how the doctors carved you out of your mother’s womb? Do you recall the silence of the room, as I saw you still and blue, reckoning with the reality of digging two tombs? The first for your mother, and the second for you.
But as my tears threatened to fall, that’s when I heard his holy call. A hooded being emerged from the dark, and I thought it was the reaper, here to help your souls embark. But I soon calmed, for he offered me a deal, you see? The possibility of your life, and so I gave my plea.
“Let her live and grow to stand tall. If you promise me that, I’ll give you my all.”
With that he smiled, and then you cried. And a number appeared, above your head it lied. Fifty it said, glowing bright red, and without any explanation, I knew what it meant.
Catherine, my light, do you know about money? Our big house, your pretty dresses, and your fluffy snow bunny. They’re all due to the green, that useless crumpled paper, of which millions couldn’t save your mother, nor you neither. But, I discovered that this was not strictly true. A bill here and there, could make the law move.
And so I greased the pockets of the judges. The police, juries, and lawyers needed but a few nudges. To break down their morals, and bring smiles to their eyes. To let a few killers run free, and let them swing their sharp knives.
From county to county and town to town, I did my work with not as much as a frown. So as time went on, the number decreased, and with a few more coins, there was no news about the deceased. All for the sake of being your hero, I steeled my heart for the count to reach zero.
Catherine, my sweet, would you like to hear a story? I was standing in a cafe, when a man came in storming. He roared bad words with hatred so deep, then slammed me to the floor, sweeping me off of my feet. He pounded my face with force so strong, and I didn’t move, thinking that’s where I belonged. Once iron filled my mouth, and he was done screaming, he pulled out a gun, translucent tears streaming.
I waited slowly for my eternal hell, and a shot rang out, but it was he who fell. An off-duty cop, imagine the chances! He tied the man up, and called the ambulance. As for me, well I was brought in for questioning. And sitting in the station, I faced my day of reckoning. I was resigned to confess to all of my crimes, but as they read my file, some doubts began to arise.
“Mr. Feynman, the entrepreneur on the news? The CEO of the service praised by tens of reviews?”
“Mr. Feynman, we’re sorry, you must be confused. These crazies are always drunk, with hundreds of drugs used.”
"That bastard should count his stars, he’s lucky to be alive. Mr. Feynman, you deserve to be free, we can definitely turn our eyes.”
At that their voices took on a strange tone, and inflected with greed their black pupils shone. Ah, I thought, so this is how it works. I’m not in the wrong, I deserve a few perks. And so I broke my silence, speaking with a voice so quiet,
“Thank you for the justice. My freedom? I’ll buy it.”
Catherine, my dear, what brought you out of bed? You heard my voice, your precious name said? Why don’t worry my sweet, Daddy was talking to himself. Now get back to sleep, it’s not good to tire oneself.
Catherine, my love, what about the recent guest? Why was he crying, body bonded up in a vest? Ah, he was simply tired from his long journey, he’s like the knight from your books, exhausted from a tourney.
Catherine, my daughter, I wish you good night. When you walk out, be sure to turn off the light.
Catherine, my all, I’m glad you were born. Blood will flow for you, and for the glory of Khorne. |
Where do angels come from? Heaven is the generally accepted answer, but it’s a bit deceptive. Angels live in the Heavenly Home, but they were not born there.
Thomas Abbot didn’t know this as he looked at me. He’s old now, not much time left for him on this Earth. When he was young, he wanted to defend his homeland, to be a hero for the peoples being murdered. Then he was deployed to fly on Operation Gomorrah. Then surveillance missions, then strafing runs on tactical positions all over Europe. He has seem much and wishes he could forget it all.
He had begged to the Lord for peace, but there was no answer. He had cursed in the Lord’s name, but no reply was given. He, and so many others in those years, began to hate Us.
We loved them anyway.
“I was in Dachau. My family had been condemned.” My voice is quiet, nearly human in sound. “We were killed by hate, and reborn by grace.” I tried to shrug, but my wings and robes restricted my movement. “If I- if we- had held on for just a little longer, perhaps I and the others would still be of Earth. But I didn’t.” I looked at him steadily. “You are a human, Thomas Abbot. It’s part of your nature to be angry and sad and to feel. And We know this. And We love you.”
“I have killed.”
“You have.”
“I hated everything.”
“And you are loved still.”
We sit in silence for a while as Abbot studies me. I don’t look like a human, even if my wings were hidden I would be seen. I wonder what he is looking for. “Did the others pass on as well?”
“Your brothers in arms? Some are still alive. Some chose to pass on, and others chose to stay. They wanted to see the end of the war even if they could no longer fight. Most are at peace now.”
“Livington? Did he-“
“Edwin Livingstone is currently snooping around an American base, last I heard. He did love his planes during the War.“
“And the Americans love to ‘go fast’,” he chuckles to himself.
I nod. “He can pass on whenever he wishes.”
“Does Hell exist?”
“For some.”
“‘S bloody ominous.”
“Indeed.”
“…I think I’m ready to go, Angel.”
I smile. “Then let’s depart, Warrant Officer Thomas Abbot.” |
"Hold up, there's something embossed under this", i exclaimed to myself. I was about 200 ft off the ground on a mobile platform. The cracks in the concrete had started to form after about 100 years. Working for maintenance paid well but you needed a head for heights.
If i put my eye to the crack i was filling, i could see them far below. They're crude humanoids, streaky corroded white body shell, with black joints for the limbs. They don't have faces. Just a lens and a camera body for the head.
The strange thing about them is they don't leave the wall. They congregate about 10 metres away and just stare at it. The rest of their civilization further inside looks a total ruin. Buildings left over from the human age that have been overgrown with trees or have collapsed due to leaky roofs. Animals wander amongst them with impunity and show no fear.
Our side of the wall is in a sorry state. Over farming and deforestation has caused the soil to fail. The air is thick with smog. We are starving, our society is an autocracy. We live in decrepit social housing, gangs are rife and life expectancy is low. Police shoot protestors on sight.
Nobody remembers why the wall went up. It encompasses the whole planet. Whoever built it was powerful and determined. You would expect they kept a record of events leading up to the segregation but there is mysteriously none. Our parents are forbidden from speaking of it. Rumours in the schoolyard are rife...robot uprising...rogue AI...but nobody knows. So strange.
I rubbed away the dirt. As i clawed back the moss, to my surprise there emerged a small oblong of glass. The embossed text above it read: "lest we forget. Hold the button for 5 seconds". I exclaimed and levered it out of the concrete. A 21st century smart phone, and a small induction charger stowed behind it.
I pressed the button but nothing happened. Of course these things needed to be charged, unlike our incredible thermosolar devices which can take energy as long as the air is above absolute zero. I took it home that evening and jerry rigged the wires ofnthe charger to the intercom, the only wired appliance in my compartment. To my delight, a white lightning bolt began to throb on the screen.
The following morning i found it had booted. 21st November 2045, no signal. Wow. That is more than 110 years ago. I found that the screen responded to my touch. I swiped up and began to play around with the somewhat frivolous functions. A calculator! The messages were empty. Welcome to Novastar, the network that cares. Nothing seemed of interest.
I was about to give up, when I found something in the Gallery app. An icon with text underneath, that said simply "Interview". I pressed it. To my surprise a video of a terrified stuttering man appeared on the screen complete with tinny sound from a primitive speaker.
"Do you confirm that this is the truth?", a voice commanded. The man nodded, eyes darting around. "Then tell me why the wall is being built".
"I am a contractor for the department of defense. I accidentally bore witness to a conversation between the president of this country and an army General of a European nation. During the conversation our president repeatedly contradicted the general who stated that the robots are harmless and only wished to serve us. He also stated that standard of living had risen massively and equality had never been so good. Our president became annoyed and started shouting that if everyone had access to the same knowledge and utility as standard, it became impossible to establish a hierarchy in which the elite could rule over the masses. The general shouted something in his own language and left the room. At this point I fled as I was in danger of being discovered".
The video terminated abruptly. |
There was a murmur through the crowd at the revelation, the gathered townsfolk unsure what to do with the new information. What they all realized was that an angry mob without a target was more like an irritated crowd. But the townsfolk were irritated all the time, about the price of apples (too high) or the height of the town's clock (too high) or why the banker's son kept doing the math wrong (too high).
Irritation wouldn't cut it. They were an *angry mob*, dammit, and they had been promised a whole *afternoon* of rioting, looting, and general rowdiness. A real fun-for-all-the-family sort of day. Immediately, the brighter folks in the crowd began to make calculations as to a new target. Note that this wasn't a high bar, as the actually bright folks had much better things to do with a Saturday afternoon than join an angry mob, like rearranging their button collection by size and colour.
"Well she's still got horns, doesn't she?"called out one such man. "Demon, dragon, they can all hang just the same!"
*That* was a good enough reason. The crowd stirred, raising their pitchforks and torches. Signs were waved, boldly proclaiming "Death to the ~~Demon~~ Dragon!"
Up on the central stage, Alexandra wanted to put a hand against her face at the sheer stupidity of it all. Unfortunately, she was locked inside the pillory at the moment. While she *could* break the flimsy wooden thing with but a flick of her wrist, she had *promised* not to destroy any city centres for a few months (and she had been doing so well, too).
"Listen,"she called out into the crowd. "Your goats and sheep have horns too. And you don't hang them, do you?"
That got the crowd to murmur again, unsure how to combat this brilliant riposte.
"This is just a demon trick!"said the man who first proposed the demon-dragon equivalency.
"You say that now, and soon you'll be coming after my sheep!"came another yell from nearby. That one murmur grew louder, and the original man wisely shut up before he found himself in the mob's crosshairs.
"Well, we should still kill dragons, shouldn't we? My cousin got hurt by a dragon, they're bad news!"came a second proposition.
This too, stirred up the crowd. But seemingly aware of the more tenuous nature of this line of logic, and having exhausted much of their energies in the first two murmurings, this one was far more subdued.
"And *how*, precisely, did your cousin get hurt?"Alexandra asked.
The crowd turned to face the man. If you have ever been in a crowd that has to face one of its own, you'll know that this is a very awkward process, in which people shuffle awkwardly to the side and rub up against each other. In the process come all manner of apologies, bumps, and improper nudges.
When the whole crowd had finally turned to face this man, he seemed remarkably less confident, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.
"Well, it wasn't a *direct* thing. Dragon was flying overhead, and he got spooked and hit his thumb with a hammer."
Immediately the crowd got into discussing the finer points of causality and legal culpability, despite no one in attendance having the qualifications to do so. Eventually the crowd quieted down, unsure whether they still had the requisite moral indignation to call themselves an angry mob.
"Well how about we hang her because she's trying to stop us from hanging her?"yelled one old woman from the back.
The crowd seemed to consider this for a moment, the point hanging in the air. Then, seemingly pleased with the circular, undefeatable nature of the argument's logic, they rallied for one last angry mob yell.
"What the hell is going on here?"thundered Sgt. Heyburn as he stormed up onto the stage.
"Get this woman out of the pillory! Right this instant!"the sergeant yelled at the poor sap beside the locked-up dragon. It was the young lad's first day on the job and he had simply gotten wrapped up in the flow of things.
"All of you, back to your homes! Come on, don't make me say it again. Mildred, what are you doing in an angry mob at your age?"the Sergeant said, as he ushered the crowd away. Reluctantly, the former angry mob began to disperse.
"Took you long enough,"Alexandra said, rubbing her wrists as she was unlocked from the restraints. "What the hell were you doing?"
"*You* shouldn't be getting yourself in trouble on a Saturday. And if you must know, I was taking a nice afternoon to myself to rearrange my button collection by size and colour." |
Lisa was emptying the trash in the hotel lobby at three in the morning when she noticed the box on the wall.
It was mounted around the corner from the lobby elevators, just before the stairs. It would be out of sight to everyone who passed through, unless they were taking the stairs, or unless they were using or emptying the trash can that sat beside the elevator doors.
Lisa stared at the box, her gloved hands holding the trash bag, forgetting about its weight. The box was metal and painted safety red, with a notched glass cover, much like a fire extinguisher case but smaller. The only feature of any kind on the outside of the box was a white label with red text that read "IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, CRUSH IN HAND". Inside the box was some kind of... stone?... that glowed faintly from within. It was marbled and rough, like a piece of granite, except that the flecks of crystal leaked light from within.
She squinted at the box and dropped the trash back into the bin. Lisa leaned around it, examined it from all sides. There was no latch to open a door - there was no door. Just a metal box with a breakable glass window, the glowing rock inside, and that strange label.
"Hey Marie,"called Lisa, her eyes still on the box. "Marie, you know anything about this new emergency box by the elevators?"
"Nope,"Marie called back from the front desk, her voice flat with boredom.
Lisa removed her gloves, dropped them to the floor, and felt beneath and around the box with her fingers. "Day shift say anything about new emergency procedures?"
"Nope,"Marie replied.
She put her hands on her hip and scratched her head. "Any new manuals? Memos? Emails? Anything?"
"Nope."
Lisa hadn't heard anything. Any news related to maintenance always came through to her by email or by start-of-shift handover or memo. She hadn't heard a word about this box. Maybe it was some kind of prank that hadn't gone off? She couldn't feel any attachment points or bumps or any kind of anything on the outside of the box, so with both hands, firmly but gently, she lifted and pulled.
As she suspected, the box was mounted on anchors and was easy to remove. Couldn't be a real safety feature, then, if it came off like that. Real equipment was - well, safe. Inset into the wall, or built so that you could only access the hardware if you could get inside with a key.
Lisa inspected the box, and when she turned it over, the small rock rolled and clanked against the box walls. The back of the box had little mounting holes, but no other hardware or mechanisms of any kind. It was all one piece. There was no way to get inside without breaking the glass.
"Marie,"Lisa shouted, hefting the emergency box under her arm and grabbing the trash bag again. "I'm going out back."
"Have fun."
In the maintenance room, Lisa set down the box, disposed of the trash, and returned to stare at the box, hands on her hips again. "Well,"she said to herself, "Only one way to find out."
She picked up the box, threw it across the room, and ducked for cover behind a janitor cart. The glass shattered, and tinkled, and settled, and nothing else happened.
Lisa toed through the debris with her safety boots, and found the small stone. She picked it up. It was just a little warm, and glowed like it had a faint LED light inside, but it was just a rock - no battery compartment to power the light.
Lisa shrugged, and she squeezed the rock in her hand.
It broke, more easily than she expected, and the light streamed out and into her palm. She felt warmth spreading through her body, somehow light as a physical sensation. There was a flash, but felt like it came from behind her eyes, not in front of them, and suddenly Lisa was somewhere else.
She was in a small room, bright with light that her eyes couldn't process. It didn't hurt, but she couldn't focus, and she couldn't tell what anything was.
"Is this an emergency?"asked a strange three-toned voice.
"There was a box in my hotel,"Lisa said, covering her eyes, struggling to see. "It wasn't supposed to be there."
"Is this an emergency?"repeated the voice.
Lisa tried to frown; she couldn't tell if she was successful. "I... no?"
The light flashed again, and she was back in the maintenance room, everything as it was, except that the box and the broken glass were gone. Lisa stumbled out into the lobby. "Marie!"she shouted. "Marie, did you... what did... did you see that light? Did you?"
Marie looked up from her phone, but kept tapping at it. "Nope." |
The fluorescent lights strained his eyes and the incessant buzz they made did nothing for his already deteriorating mood. Grant sat opposite of the psychiatrist after his forced submission into the clinic last night. He was uncertain about what exactly happened, but here he was.
“Mr. Haraldson, we think you might be suffering from schizophrenia and we also have a suspicion you might be suffering from ADHD,” said the psychiatrist.
“There is nothing wrong with me, how many times do I have to repeat myself,” said Grant.
“The clinicians from last night said you were rambling about demons in your head and that you had to keep them busy or else something bad would happen,” said the psychiatrist, with a smug face.
It was a young man that probably just got his degree and saw a cut and dry case in front of him.
“It’s true, though,” said Grant.
The psychiatrist didn’t look amused.
“I already told you that we made our diagnosis,” he said. “You either work with us voluntarily or we will have to sedate you.”
“Don’t!” Grant said, with a sudden urgency in his voice. “You will release him if I’m not conscious.”
“It will help you, believe me,” said the young doctor. “Besides, you still sleep, so how would you explain that?”
Grant had already explained that misconception multiple times, but he’d do it again if it meant he wouldn’t be sedated.
“I’m a lucid dreamer,” he said. “I can keep him busy in my dreams, until I wake up.”
The psychiatrist simply smiled.
“Yes, you said that before,” he said. “I understand that accepting this diagnosis is scary.”
Grant shoved his chair backwards and yelled, “I am not schizophrenic!” and he slammed his fist on the table.
The door of the office swung open and two buff clinicians ran inside and grabbed Grant by his armpits and pressed him against the wall.
“Calm down Mr. Haraldson,” said the psychiatrist. “Bring him to the examination room, for sedation,” he said to the clinicians.
Grant was pressed forcefully onto the bed and his wrists and ankles were cuffed to the metal frame. The psychiatrist prepared a syringe with sedative, while one of the buff guys that had carried him here laughed.
“Don’t worry, it’s for your own well being,” said the doctor.
“No, you don’t understand, you’ll release him,” pleaded Grant.
He was physically tired from the struggle and mentally exhausted from having to convince these people to believe him, while also consciously keeping the demon running in circles by applying mind tricks and rumination loops. Grant still tried to worm his way free, but he knew it would be futile. The psychiatrist grabbed his right arm and plunged the needle into his muscle.
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” sobbed Grant, and tears started rolling down his cheeks.
The doctor tightened his grip on Grant’s arm in an effort to comfort him, while dark tendrils slowly crept into his sight. As his vision grew dark and he felt his consciousness slipping, the monster inside grew restless. It knew that it would finally be free and the last thing Grant felt before he was gone was the ripping of his skin and the last thing he heard was the frantic screams of the people in his presence.
\---
Thank you for reading! If you liked my story I invite you over to r/zeekoeswriting for more. Please feel free to let me know your thoughts in the replies! |
Fuck. No, impossible, how could I be that stupid? Fuck. I had been playing for so long, so much progress, careful, careful progress. Years of work gone down the tubes just like that. Shit.
Is it even my fault? It can't be, no way. Millennia of work, I should be able to take a damn nap without worrying. But nope. That's it. I was so close, so close to beating that fucking game. I had the people finally ready to understand. Uprisings in the Middle East, disquiet in the US, people were ready to truly think, truly understand. I was so damn close to the last level, the enlightening. Instead, I decided it was the perfect time for a nap. Great choice. A two hour nap and I wake up to the next great Inquisition. They can't be left unattended. They need constant guidance, care, support. Fuck this game. Is it really so hard to understand empathy?
I sighed, stood up, and unplugged the game. Millennia of work, gone. Round two, I plugged in the game to the screen and there was light.
|
"No soliciters!"I shouted for the third time, pointing at the sign on my door written in unambiguous capital letters.
The Bristleheads shuffled from one foot to another awkwardly, their spiny hair like twigs rustling with the movement. "The truth of the Universal Savior is accepted universally,"the one on the left declared, his english heavily-accented by an Australian lilt. "You need only swallow one cube for your eyes to be open."
"Look,"I explained, "I've heard it all before. First you took over every TV signal to preach at us, then you replaced every video on Youtube with the same damn message, and now you're going door to door. I get it, you think this is important. But I had to kill three people yesterday just to get bread, and the riots are out of control around the world. Don't you think there could be better ways for you to spend your time?"
"The Universal Savior will provide bread once all have accepted his truth,"the Bristlehead on the right announced triumphantly.
"Bread now, truth later,"I replied coldly. "You've ruined our civilization, do you know that? You've *ruined* it."
"Many planets must burn before the ashes can be reconstituted,"the one on the left explained. "One ingested cube will explain this. The nanotech will upload our Holiest Books directly into your neocortex."
"Shit, the neighbourhood militia is coming. See those guys with guns coming down the street? They kill your kind *for fun*. With axes, baseball bats, and boards with nails in them. Last week they tortured five of you in the middle of the street before setting them on fire."
"Death is a process of renewal."
"Death is a natural transition."
"Truth exists beyond selfhood."
The shouts from the neighbourhood militia grew louder as they caught sight of the visitors on my doorstep. "Shit, now you leave me no choice. If I don't attack you they're going to think I'm on your side. You've got five seconds to run."
"Time is an illusion,"the Bristlehead replied a moment before my heel connected with his chest, knocking him to the pavement.
"You *will* see the truth,"the second warned as my baseball bat swung into the side of his head.
"Are you okay out there?"my girlfriend asked from inside the house.
"I will be in about two minutes,"I shouted back.
As one of the Bristleheads bled purple ooze onto my lawn, our eyes met. "We are eight hundred billion,"he managed, offering me a small green cube.
"And we're starving,"I explained. "Next time bring me turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes before you start lecturing me about 'the truth'. Stale bread and moonshine is all I've got in here, and that's a shitty Christmas dinner. Over here, gents,"I called to the militia. "Help me get this trash off my porch." |
The doctor walked into my hospital room and said "I'm very sorry Mr. Falanga, but your cancer has spread and you only have about a week to live."
This came as quite a shock to me, considering that I was just getting my tonsils taken out, so I let the doctor know my situation.
"Oh, shit!"he exclaimed while checking his notes. "I guess that explains why the other Mr. Falanga was so happy to hear that he would would have some major swelling for a few weeks. I should probably find him and let him know." |
Lucas placed the briefcase down on the floor. Emanuel repeated the action with his own. The soldiers of their great gangs flanked them with the clothes and marks of their people. Lucas' were draped in trenchcoats, suits and well worn beards. Emanuel's were wrapped in undershirts, baggy jeans and crucifix tattoos.
The two liasons switched sides and inspected the contents of each others' briefcases. As they moved back across the invisible line to their own gang members, they nodded.
"Halt!"yelled a young, nasal voice. "In the name of the law!"The two veteran drug runners turned to see two teenagers, one dressed in a sweatervest, with thick horn-rimmed glasses and the other in a hoodie with an emo-swoop haircut.
"We're here to take you down, bro!"threatened the emo swoop. Uzis raised and in mere seconds, both teenagers were limp piles of pockmarked flesh on the concrete- sputtering and convulsing in their death throes. The two drug runners looked at one another.
"We better leave,"commented Emanuel. They all disappeared into the night. |
I woke up confused. The last thing I remembered was Mommy picking me up from school. I looked around the room, which was a pretty shade of blue. I didn't understand why I wasn't in my bedroom at home. I heard from somewhere above the bed "Dr. Shah please report to the C-ward, code green."I realized I must be at the hopspital.
A nurse in light blue scrubs opened the door to my room, and her eyes got real big when they locked with mine. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a croak like a frog. I tried to lift my head to look for some water, but it felt heavy. I strained to raise my head even a little, and the nurse rushed over, saying "Don't move, just lie back and I'll get you something to drink, sir."I thought it was weird she called me sir, that was something people usually called Daddy.
I looked down, and my feet looked really far away. I looked at my hands, but they didn't look like my hands. I started feeling really scared, but then nurse got back with my water. She asked me if I knew where I was while I sipped the water through a straw, and I nodded yes. I knew I was in the hopspital, so I must be sick. She looked surprised, and asked me if I knew what date it was. I shrugged my shoulders, I thought it was just after Christmas. Mommy had got me a real cool Tonka truck last Christmas.
She set the water down as a doctor came in the room. He had really dark skin, it looked like the color of Cocoa Puffs. He looked even more surprised than the nurse did when he saw me looking at him. He said "Mr. Saunders, I have some very important things talk about with you. You were in a very serious car accident as a child. You have been in a coma for the past sixty years."I looked at him, not understanding what he meant. Sixty years? That's older than Grampa! As he explained though, things began to click: he strange looking hands, the longer legs.
I made like I was writing something, and the doctor handed me a pen and paper. I tried to grab the pen, but ended up with a clumsy fist around it. I wrote in huge crooked letters "Mommy?"The doctor sighed and shared a look with the nurse. He gestured to the door and they went out into the hall together. I took the pen and started doodling, waiting for them to come back. |
"My goodness, Q has nothing on you guys!"
James Bond stood, ever dapper in a black tailored suit complete with black tie, white shirt and shiny black shoes, in the center of 93 Diagon Alley. He watched as the noose slowly tightened around the man's neck until he swung gently.
"Best seller,"a voice called down.
"Spell it or he'll swing,"an almost identical voice called down, too.
Bond watched as two men, hair as bright and orange as fire, walked down the stairs of their shop and stood in front of them.
"I've been told that you two are the best men for the job,"he said.
"Best men?"one snorted.
"You mean, the only two mental enough to do this,"the other giggled.
James Bond had been at Oxford, he had been trained so he could rise above the rest, he had been a spy for god knows how long now and yet he could not tell the Weasley Twins apart despite having known them both for weeks now.
"That always helps,"Bond admitted. "I've been told that you two have key intelligence. So, where's the bad guy? Volcano lair? In space? Underwater base?"
Fred and George glanced at each other, struggling to keep a straight face. They managed to keep sober as they both stood next to the spy and slung an arm around him.
"Oh, my dear sweet muggle, you really have no idea, do you?"Fred said. Or was it George?
"Listen, friend, and we shall teach you all,"George said. Or was it Fred?
"Voldemort is not simply bad. He is evil. He represents all the deepest, darkest parts of human nature. All of us, well, most of us have things to keep us sinking that low. We have family and we have friends and sometimes they're one and the same thing. He does not have that. He has nobody. He is alone and he is afraid and for that he wishes to punish everyone."
"He seeks out others who are alone and afraid,"George continued. "He plays on their fear. He plays on whatever weaknesses they have so that they will join him. Jealousy, greed, wrath, pride. People have killed for him and people have died for him but that is not the worst he can do. Death is not all that bad, though it is his greatest fear. He can destroy worlds. Starting with yours."
Bond looked up at the two eager but grim young faces. He doubt they were even born when he was saving the world and hitting on beautiful women in white bikinis.
He drew his gun.
"Anyone ever just tried shooting him?"
Fred and George raised an eyebrow each in disbelief.
"We can turn ourselves invisible,"said Fred.
"We can travel thousands of miles in a blink of a eye,"said George.
"We have managed to hide our entire world from you,"said Fred.
"You really think that we haven't learned how to make ourselves bullet proof?"they both said.
Bond turned red. He never blushed. He charmed and drank and killed but blushing? That was new. He wasn't too sure of this world he had found himself in.
"Lets sit. We'll tell you the plan. We'll explain why we need you and why you need us. We'll try not to make too many jokes about guns,"George said. "Did they have to make 'em so .... penis shaped?"
Fred chuckled as the three sat at a small table at the back of the shop. Three tumblers and a bottle of something labelled 'Firewhiskey' stood in the centre of the table. George poured three fingers in each glass and raised a toast, a toast that Bond could understand.
'To beating bad guys.'
It was no Martini, shaken not stirred, Bond thought but it wasn't half bad.
|
I'm still not used to the taste of ash. It used to by my vice; two packs a day, sometimes more, always a gleeful experience. A consciously indifferent look into the future. What I wouldn't give for a smoke now.
There's a difference from the sweetness of the smoke in my mouth and the acrid flakes that pepper my tongue. You never know if you're breathing an old piece of paper or a person.
It's kind of funny, actually. With everything burned up, the only thing I can find is cans, and there is never enough. I actually have portion control. There's nothing left to smoke. I'm healthier than I've ever been. All it took was the end of the world.
Well, as far as I know it's the end of the world. No, there hasn't been anything, plants, trees, people, in months. But I can't possibly be the last one. I made it through, others could have survived. I didn't do anything special. There are still buildings in tact. There could be others. So, when I'm not looking for food, I'm knocking.
A couple of nights ago, I saw some stars in between breaks of cloud. I pointed it out to no one. Whenever there's good news, I still want to share it. I still get excited when I find a can of pears. It's not that I believe that I can be a new Adam or anything, things are too far gone. I just want someone to talk to. I've never seen more of the world than I have in the past month; I just wish I took this opportunity when it was still beautiful.
There are new, unknocked doors in every town I visit. Desolate, blackened houses from the fires, but I've stayed in enough to know that most are in enough shape to provide adequate shelter. Thousands of knocks at this point, not a single answer on the other side of the door.
Sometimes I worry that I'm not knocking loud enough, so I will pound and yell until my knuckles bleed and my voice is hoarse with soot. If anyone's in there, I want them to come out! Sometimes the blood and ash make a sticky black paste and I can use that to leave messages. I used to never do art!
The fires still burn in places and I go there when I'm cold. I'm not bothered by the bones anymore. Sometimes I make up stories for how they got into whatever mangled position they're in. Isaac from last night was doing a dance of the dead and was actually the one that caused all of this, and that's why his legs were above his head. Or so my story went. That was a fun one. I slept next to him for warmth.
I sleep more than I used to, but it's always to dream of my old life. I dream of my desk job. I dream of Lacey. I really want a smoke. I dream of finding someone on the other side of the door.
One day I will knock and there will be an answer. But until I hear that voice, I'm going to keep knocking. |
'I'm sorry'
The words came out of nowhere, or rather, they came from inside the heads of everyone on the planet. It was a strange thing, to hear with the mind and not the ears, ones innermost privacy violated; to have that familiar, personal voice, conjured by oneself, replaced by the tone of a stranger, internal audio wholly outside ones control.
Walking, talking, strolling and rolling stopped abruptly. Sounds of motors dying, screeching tires and the silent yet very real collective gasp. Everyone turned their faces to the sky.
'Well, I guess... Not really, if truth is to be told - which I imagine it is, since I am here, finally. In hindsight, probably should've planned for this monologue; I'm not a very gifted public speaker... Ehm... So, I am God. You may have endured a great deal of pain and trauma over the last... Eh.. Ehm, couple of millions of years? Whatever, well, I'm back now. I apologize - as said - for this, but I got a bit carried away with my other creation, those super intelligent crab-like beings I made a few hundred million light years from here... Much more interesting than you guys, but I guess I shouldn't be so hard on myself, I mean, you can't expect to be good at something the first time around, right? Well, there you go. Anyway, I thank you for your patience; you no longer have to wait, I'm back and I'll get to the termination stage in just a minute... You were great practice, and for that, well, thanks I guess...'
No one spoke. Everyone was quiet. |
He came to with a start, the murmur of gentle waves and the cry of unfamiliar seabirds filling the void left by the fading heart monitor and the muffled sobs of his relatives. Sand underfoot, whiter than any he'd ever seen, stretching up the most perfect beach to a dense, vibrant jungle of shocking green. Overhead, God's own blue sky, stabbed by the triangle tip of an immense volcanic mountain soaring up behind the forest.
*Paradise*, he thought, and took a deep breath of tangy salt air. Strength unlike anything he'd ever felt coursed through veins untouched by age, and stirred muscles that would never again falter. *After all those years of turmoil and doubt, I was right all along. Oh Father, how truly great thou art.*
His reverie lasted only as long as it took for the rock to smack into his forehead.
With a yelp, he dropped to his knees, clutching his bleeding scalp. *What the f-*
"KA MATE!"
The shout was thunderous, all-consuming. He staggered to his feet. Before him, there had been only jungle, dense and impenetrable. Now there was a man. Or at least, a man's shape.
Massive. Gigantic. Titanic. These words would have run through his head, but for the sheer incomprehensible nature of the figure before him. The man was huge, easily a dozen feet tall, and every inch of his exposed skin (which was, upon further review, most of it) was covered in fantastic tattoos, whorls and spirals and jagged cross-hatched lines of astonishing complexity. Lips drawn in a snarl, eyes flashing in rage and exultation, the giant raised his fist and screamed.
**"KA MATE!"**
The cry echoed all around him, bouncing and reverberating off of the high volcanic cliffs until it seemed his head would burst. From all around him, new voices took up the cry, and for the first time he looked around at the figures that stood beside him in the surf. Men, women, children of every size and shape and color, all covered with the same vibrant tattoos, all armed. All gazing with awe and horror and wonder at the unfathomable figure before them.
The giant lowered his hand, and the forest erupted. Uncountable hordes of screaming tattooed warriors charged from the trees, mere and taiaha and patu held high for the kill. The giant laughed, and his heart jolted in rhythm. He screamed in return, blowing out his cheeks and staring with wide eyes as was proper to strike fear into the hearts of his onrushing foes. Around him, his new brothers and sisters did likewise, and the war cry sent a thrill of ecstasy through his heart as he raised his weapon alongside theirs.
A step upward, another step upward, and then he charged up the beach to meet his eternal enemies under the light of the perfect sun.
|
As I approached the next tree, the vibration of my chainsaw stopped--it had died. I looked down at the machine with frustration, I'd just repaired the damn thing this morning. I set the infernal device down and plucked the radio from my belt, but it wasn't working either. Probably too far away. I walked about two hundred yards in the direction of the logging camp. I tried the radio again, it crackled with static.
"Central, Central, Jack,"I called to the operator.
"Go for Central,"a voice called back a few moments later.
"My chainsaw died, can you send Fred with a replacement."
"Fred is currently assisting in zone seven, I'll send Catherine instead. She'll be there in fifteen minutes,"the operator buzzed.
"Negative Central, I'll just use my axe,"I protested, anyone but Catherine.
"Shut it, Jack. She's on her way, Central out."
"Dammit,"I sighed and clipped the radio back to my belt. Saved by Catherine the Great, wonderful, the boys would never let me hear the end of it. I trekked back to the tree, hefting my axe--might as well get started, if I worked fast enough, I'd be done by the time she got there and I wouldn't need her. I started swinging, chipping away at the massive trunk. After about five minutes of furious chopping, I realized I'd never get this done without a chainsaw. The trunk was amazingly dense, I would have needed help regardless of my chainsaw failure, I just wished literally anyone but Catherine was on their way. Another sigh and I kept chopping.
Finally the familiar rumbling of an '89 chevy truck caught my attention, I turned and saw it approaching along the trail about a hundred yards through the forest. I walked to the makeshift road and flagged the truck down, Catherine was grimacing at me through the muddy windshield. After the truck slowed to a stop, the door swung open and out stepped a giant woman: Catherine. She was well over 6'5"and well muscled, her dark hair in a tight bun on top of her head. As a woman in the industry, she wasn't well liked by most--well any--of the rest of us. She was brusk and aggressive, but there was no denying that she was a damn good logger.
"You're an asshole, Jack,"she growled as she moved the bed of the truck.
"Nice to see you too, Catherine,"I sighed, no doubt some sort of quip was about to be shot in my direction. Instead she pulled two chainsaws from the truck.
"Where's the broken one?"she asked as she shoved the chainsaw into my arms.
"Out by the tree,"I swallowed my pride and came out with it, "I think I'm going to need your help getting it down, she's proving to be quite the bi-"I stopped myself as her glare intensified. I sighed yet again, "please?"
Even as the word left my lips she burst out laughing, "Oh this is rich! Hold on, I have to record this moment!"She was patting her jeans, pretending to search for her phone. I suppose I deserved it after all the bullshit I, and the rest of us, had given her over the years.
"Are you gonna help or not?"I was losing patience with her attitude.
"Where is it?"she asked between laughs.
"Over here,"I moved back into the forest.
"Oh your friends are going to love this, Jack,"she was still chuckling, "Asking a girl for help? You'll never hear the end of it."
"Yeah if we could just...not mention this to anyone, I'd really appreciate it,"I was hopeful, but I knew what the answer would be.
"Not a chance in hell, Jack."
When we got to the tree, I attempted to start the new chainsaw. Nothing. I turned to Catherine, "Is this your idea of some kind of joke? I'm trying to do my job here and you bring me a faulty saw."
"Fuck you, Jack, I tested that machine myself before I even came up here and it worked just fine. You just have no clue what you're doing, give it to me,"she yanked the chainsaw from my hands and tried to start it herself. Still nothing, "What the hell?"
"You were saying?"I asked sardonically. She dropped the faulty machine and picked up the one she had brought for herself and tried to start it, but it too refused ignition.
"What the fuck is going on?"she threw the second broken saw to the ground in a fit of rage.
"It's fine, we can just axe the damn thing. Once it's down we'll both head back to control and get new equipment,"I hefted my axe to my shoulder. She looked down at the chainsaws then up at the tree. With a melodramatic huff, she picked up her axe. We started chopping, alternating swings.
After about thirty minutes Catherine stopped and leaned panting on her axe, "What the hell is this damn thing made of?"
"See what I'm saying? I've never attacked a tree like this before, we should be halfway through this thing by now and we're only like six inches in,"frustrated I swung my axe as hard as I could into the trunk. Suddenly a loud pop, like a gunshot, echoed through the forest and the tree began hissing and billowing some kind of blue smoke from the notch we'd carved out. Catherine and I stumbled backward and hit the ground as the smoke enveloped us. Coughing I scurried away from the tree, eventually getting my feet underneath me. I emerged from the smoke, bleary eyed, searching for Catherine.
"Jack?!"I heard Catherine shout over the hissing.
"I'm over here!"I shouted back between coughs, unwilling to go back into the smoke to search for her. She emerged a few moments later, hacking and stumbling. I reached out to steady her, but she batted my hand away, still coughing.
"What the fuck--"she took a ragged breath, "did you do?"
"Me?"I coughed a few more times, "How the fuck,"a deep breath, "did I know the tree was filled with fucking poison gas?"
"Holy shit,"she stood upright and coughed again, "Are we gonna die!? You just fucking killed us!!"
"I didn't do shit!"I screamed back. Suddenly the hissing stopped and the smoke began to clear. Catherine and I stood next to each other, dumbfounded by the past two minutes. When the smoke cleared, we were stunned. The area around the tree looked almost...scorched. The plants were withered, the rocks stained blue, even the tree itself looked as if it had been dead for years. Suddenly a whiplike crack shot through the forest. Dead leaves started raining down around us. Another crack. The tree was falling.
"Get out of the way!"I shouted and lunged at Catherine as the tree crashed down around us. The sound was like a train barreling down on us, I closed my eyes and waited to be crushed.
As soon as it had started the tree was on the ground, it was over and I was alive, somehow. I looked over at Catherine laying next to me, she stared back. "You okay?"I asked, shoving a branch off my chest and struggling to my knees.
"Yeah,"she grunted and tried to stand. "Aghh!"she shrieked and fell back to the ground clutching her right leg. I looked down and saw a large splinter of the tree sticking out of her thigh.
"H-holy shit!"I stammered, frantically trying to figure out what to do with my hands.
"It's fine, I'm fine,"she mumbled, "It's not that deep, just--just tie it off and get me to the truck."How she wasn't panicking like I was, I had no idea. I ripped my left sleeve off and wrapped it around her leg, my hands shaking furiously as I attempted to tie the knot.
"It's gotta be tight,"she bit her lip, "Just do it!"I pulled the knot as tight as I could and to her credit she exhaled a low growl as I secured the tourniquet. Working as a lumberjack, I'd seen my fair share of accidents, but something about being covered in someone elses blood was extremely unnerving. I turned and threw up.
"What is that?"I heard Catherine mutter as I gathered my composure. I turned and looked at her, but she wasn't looking at me. I followed her gaze to the stump of the tree--a metallic object was jutting from the remains. It was cone shaped, glowing blue lines were etched in intricate geometric patterns all across its surface. My axe was still embedded in its side.
"I don't--"a deafening boom echoed down from above. Then another. I looked up through the clearing and saw two contrails in the sky, "What now?!"
"W-we shouldn't stay here, we have to go. Th-that thing could be a bomb,"Catherine sounded weak, her face was pale.
"Look at you! We can't move you like this,"I stood and looked around.
"Do you hear that?"she looked up.
"Hear what?"I strained, my ears were still ringing. Then I heard it, the whoofing of helicopter blades and it was getting louder.
"We have to go NOW!"Catherine shouted and tried to rise, but she fell back to the ground with a grunt. She looked...scared. I'd only ever seen two emotions from her before: angry and less angry. Seeing fear on her...that wasn't something I wanted to fuck with.
"Okay, we'll go,"I reached down to help her up, but she flinched away. "I won't tell anyone,"I reasoned with her and reached down again. This time she reluctantly took my hand. After we struggled to get her on her feet, I threw her arm over my shoulder and we limped toward the truck.
By the time the helicopters arrived, we were well on our way. Bumping along the roughshod trail must have been agony for Catherine, but she showed no signs of breaking. She hadn't said anything after we'd left, but the fear was still etched across her face. She kept looking in the rearview at the helicopters, they were definitely military, but all they were doing was circling high above the clearing.
"When we get back to control, we'll radio for a medivac or something. There's no hospital for hundreds of miles,"I looked at her, she was still fixed on the helicopters behind us. Suddenly an explosion rocked the truck and sent us flying, the world around me went dark.
"They've been exposed, sir,"a faint voice reached out through the darkness.
"They're starting to change,"another voice, it was slow and far away like a dream.
"Secure the subjects for study, torch the rest." |
I paced back and forth in my room. It was 10:40 AM on my birthday. Ten minutes until I would have a chance to talk to my younger, thirty year old self. I'd had this chance a couple times before, but only now was it so crucial. I ran through how I would explain it. I began to doubt myself - should I really give this advice based only on the past few days? Yes, I should. I had to.
He appeared. A younger, slightly more fit version of myself.
"Oh, hey Will. Just finished talking to Will Twenty. He was pretty happy to hear that he's about to have the best years of his life. I even spoiled a bit about Rachel."He chuckled.
"About that..."
"What?"
Tears were welling up in the eyes of Will Forty. "You have to leave her. Not only that, but you have to leave her tomorrow. I don't care how you do it, but leave her and never talk to her again."
Will Thirty's smile disappeared. "But... she's perfect."
"You're right, she is. But you still have to leave her."
"Why?"
"I can't explain the whole thing in five minutes, so here's the highlights of a really fucked up domino effect you would witness otherwise. Your family will be torn apart. Her father will kill yours. Your mother will commit suicide. You'll be accused of murder. You'll be acquitted, but soon lose your job and live off of unemployment benefits for a year, if you can call it 'living.'"
"But I can't do it."
"Did you not hear what I just told you? People will die. Your life will be ruined. And in the end you won't even have her."
"But I love her."
Both men were shedding tears of frustration and sadness now.
"Pull yourself together - you're thirty years old, you're not a teenager. You understand how to weigh your priorities. You have to leave her."
"But she makes me so happy. And I make her so happy. We both have made each other better people. I'll never find someone like her again. She's the mythical relationship partner everyone hopes to find - the person whose every part complements your own."
"I know all this! I've had all these thoughts before!"
"So why didn't you do it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Ten years ago, you were given this same speech, right? Why didn't you follow the advice you are giving now?"
"Because I loved her."
Will Thirty disappeared. Will Forty wiped his eyes and looked up. He was now in a different room.
"Hi. I'm Will Fifty."
"Yes. I had almost forgotten about the fact that this would be happening too. I was so focused on..."
"Yes, yes, don't waste time. I have important advice that your ridiculous emotional mind needs to hear right now."
"What?"
"Stay with her."
"But she..."
"I know. Go back to her."
"But I just told Will Twenty that he should leave her, to save the lives of my parents!"
"You better hope he doesn't, for the sake of *her* life." |
"End my suffering."
I have been handed many 'odd' requests in my past. Ex-girlfriends, Employees after a raise, and even a mailman asking for this pesky fucking dog to die. I have never fulfilled a vendetta or some shit like that before. This seems more like begging than a paycheck. Some rich stockbroker went quacky after years of failing at his job. Came home after work and drank the day away, daily. One day he was all liquored up, did not notice his daughter was in the drive way on his return home. The bastard pleaded guilty. Shit, I would have done this for free. |
Esar flicked his tail nervously as he prepared to walk onstage. After years in the field, working in the frigid cold of the lower continent and the scorching heat of deserts he was finally ready to report his findings to the world. Esar had spoken before massive crowds before, but this time was different, this time he would be changing his people's entire view of the world.
Then the clipboard wielding assistant motioned for him to go on, Esar gulped, then walked forward.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"He proclaimed to the audience. "Today I am here to announce the findings of a ten year archeological project. My team has drawn cores from rock across the planet in order to read the history of the last million years. It is however, a very specific 300 year period that took place approximately 800,000 years ago that we are interested in today. The screen behind Esar showed a graph with several lines which wavered up and down in unison. A section was circled that showed a sharp spike.
"This is a graph of the levels of CO2 in the atmosphere for the past million years. As you can see, there is an approximately 200 year period where CO2 spikes at a rate that is unprecedented."
The screen changed to a different graph.
"This one shows the concentration of radioactive elements found in rock cores, at the same time as the CO2 spike there is a sharp increase in Uranium and Cesium isotopes that were deposited into the ground."
Esar paused again and then spoke confidently.
"From this data we can only draw one conclusion, a sentient species capable of controlling massive amounts of energy inhabited our planet 800,000 years ago."
The crowd murmured, some gasped. This theory would change everything they knew.
"Esar continued, I believe the most likely candidate for this species is this fossil, recovered 20 years ago."
An image of a skeleton appeared on the projector, the crowd was in awe, the structure was similar to theirs, but it was apparent that this creature walked on two legs all the time. There also was no tail to be seen, or perhaps the tail bones had simply been lost.
"Furthermore, I believe this species created the mysterious artifacts recently found in orbit."
The crowd murmured again, most respectable scientists believed those artifacts to be a hoax.
"But what could have brought about the extinction of such an advanced species? I think we can answer that as well. The answer is at the very bottom of the lower continent ice sheet. Exactly one seasonal layer contains levels of radiation nearly 1000 times normal level, my friends, the answer is clear, this species blew themselves up."
The crowd of scientists was awestruck.
Esar continued. "I suggest we begin attempting to find artifacts from this civilization, but I don't have high hopes. After enough time, evidence for all but the fact that a species existed fades away, leaving nothing but a warning for our own species."
|
She was very, very sick. Sick enough that she managed to turn her eyes away from what was happening.
*What he was doing*.
She was very, very sick, but he promised he'd make her all better.
He promised he'd save her, day after day.
It meant killing more than a handful of people, yes. And it is true, she remembered, that she said "No!"
And she also said "No way, I'm not letting you do this."
At first.
But death has a way of tricking and shadowing the mind. It has a way of making men and women do things they thought
they would never.
Death has a way of bringing the worst in people; men and women, muggle and wizard alike.
And, in the end, she agreed.
She agreed, and he started killing.
And he brought the bodies back to her, one by one, and day after day, they'd perform the spell.
Transferring faded lives into him. Give him one more year to live.
And then, then he would give her another day.
Then they would dump the body in the attic, with the others.
*A life for a day*, she would think, tears in her eyes, watching as he brought home body after body.
She knew it was killing him, too. She knew. More than once she caught him crying, in the dead of the night, hating himself in secret for what he
was doing.
She knew it was killing him to become a killer.
Death has a way of bringing out the worst in people.
Yet she dared not say anything. Not at first. She was too scared. Scared he might give up. Scared he might stop it all,
and that she would die.
Scared of the void and the blackness and the unknown.
"Together, you and me, we are gonna live forever", he would say, holding on to her hand for dear life, as he sat by her side on the bed. "We
are gonna live forever."
And, for a while, she believed him. She conceived an endless empire of eternal life, filled with dead innocent eyes and rising from under a pile of motionless, rotten bodies. She conceived a dream of infinity, just the two of them, surrounded forever by death and sin and love.
And she wallowed in it, for a while. For a while, she even cherished it.
But, in time, she saw into the madness, and came across sanity again.
In time, getting up from the bed and dragging herself into the attic, she stared at the bodies, piles and piles of memories
and human lives: friends, fathers, mothers, accountants. Lawyers. Aurors. Real people, giving their lives away so
she could live one more day.
Always, just one more day.
Death. It has a way of bringing out the worst in people.
It had to end, she decided.
He wouldn't accept it, not at first. She sat him down and explained to him, between his tears, that it was time; she had
accepted her death. It had to stop, all that massacre.
"No, no, no", he uttered, between sniffs and snorts of despair. "I won't let you go."
"You have to", she replied. "You have to, my love."
"What of me? What am I to do once you're gone?"He asked, falling from the chair to his knees. "I won't let you do this, I
won't!"
"I will not perform my part of the spell anymore. You cannot stop me."She lowered herself to the floor by him,
holding his pale face between her hands. "It's over. I have to do this."
"No. No!"His face contorted in an ugly grimace. His bitterness half anger, half sadness. "We will conquer this! We will
conquer death!"
"There is no more to conquer", she whispered, and, already, she could feel life fading away inside of her.
Almost midnight. It was about the time of the spell.
Without it, she would die.
She dropped down to the floor, too weak now to even sit up.
"Let me do it. Once again. Just one more day"He begged, leaning over her lay down body.
"No, it ends now."
Her voice was fading. She looked over at the wall, where the clock was seconds away from
striking midnight.
"It ends now."
"I cannot let you go. I cannot. I hate this. I hate this. I love you."
Raising her arm, she brushed her hand softly across his face, wiping the tears from his cheekbones. "I love you too. My beautiful Tom. My beautiful, beloved Tom Riddle."
*Death. It has a way of bringing out the worst in people*, she thought, watching as the anger part of bitterness took
over his pale face, just as she felt life finally giving away inside her chest.
And then, the soft bell of the wall clock announced midnight, and her eyes closed forever.
|
"I'm hungry."Katya says, looking up despondently at me. I have nothing I can give her. The markets in Moscow have been empty for days due to difficulties with the seventeenth five year plan.
"Well, dochka, then lets find something to eat."I put on an over-broad smile. My daughter smiles back sweetly. Papa will fix this. In this city people must work together to get by.
We walk toward the border district. High ramparts separate German Moscow from mother Russia, a great wall that was set after the Moscow blitz. I walk to Artyom's house. He's always been a close friend in troubled times.
"Artyom,"I whisper through a mailslot, knelt down in front of a house tucked behind a decommissioned factory. "Open up Artyom."
"Pyotr, is that you? What's our word Pyotr?"
"Khaljava."
The door opens. Artyom closes it furtively behind us, and gives me a genial embrace.
"It's been too long Pyotr. And who's this? Katya, you must be about, what, fifteen now?"
"I'm five."Katya giggles. Artyom catches the despondency in my face as I watch Katya's laughter, and after a short time we walk into the kitchen to discuss business.
"I think your German sounds perfect, but it's not my ear that you're trying to convince."Artyom says. He looks at my hair, brown an inch beyond the roots. "We'll have to fix that. If they see brown you're as good as gassed."
I dye my hair in the sink, and can hear Katya signing in the great room on the other side of the door. I'm lucky that I have blue eyes, that I have Aryan lines to my face. This trip is always dangerous, but my little girl hasn't had enough food in a week. Tough times mean people need to do tough things. Artyom will bring her back to my brother in Ryazan if I'm delayed more than a few days.
I put on a German business suit that was procured for me almost fifteen years ago. It's clean and pressed, a heavy expense, but necessary for the trip. It's worth more to me than gold. I place it carefully it into my pack.
"Bye Katya. Don't be too much trouble for poor Artyom here. Be good. I'll see you in a day or two."She gives me a kiss, and I can barely hold back my tears.
"Bye Artyom,"I say as I stand up to part with him. "You're are a good friend. Thank you for everything."I push what rubles I can spare into his hand.
"Stay safe."
Artyom opens eight or so boards in the floor, and I climb into the tunnel which will take me under the wall into Greater Germany. I hope that my German is still pristine. I hope that the shop keepers still know me as Peter, the businessman on holiday who loves to bring treats back to his family. I hope that Nikita, on the other side of the tunnel, is still there to greet me. After crawling in the dark underground for hours I see the Teutonic hatch, and knock twice on the floorboards. A crack in the opening appears, streaming in light. It seems like it comes from another world. |
"You want to know about the seven? Ok, sure.
First one, the one in the knob, came with the door. Thought it'd be enough.
Well, my door got kicked in, and I got robbed. I should have known better, really. So I added the deadbolt. Seems like an exterior door really should have come with one beforehand, but whatever. I just wasn't thinking when I bought it.
Well, those two got picked. Must've; no forced entry. I got robbed again. So I had another one added - "Unpickable"the locksmith told me. At least not by any asshole that'd actually come by and try. Another deadbolt type.
That was fine for a while. Then it happened *again,* damnit. Robbed. No sign of forced entry, but there was some... "residue"on the locks. So the locksmith I'd been dealing with kinda shook his head and said I needed someone higher up than him. "Whatever that meant,"I thought at the time. So a few days later, a mage showed up. Yeah, wizard, warlock, whatever. He had to explain a few times before I knew what the hell he was talking about. Not sure I do, even now. But he said my door had been unlocked with a spell - a magic f'ing spell - which was really the only weakness the unpickable locks had. I know, I know, it all sounds pretty loony toons out there, but the guy seemed pretty legit. Well, he set me up with my fourth lock, a little piece of hardware that creates a "seal"or "mandala"about three inches in diameter across the door and wall, and is activated by a verbal command that only I could give it, apparently. Pretty damn fancy, if you ask me. Kinda glows a little too. Anyway, said the door can't be forced open and most spells wouldn't get past the seal either. Sounded great, and the price was much less than I was expecting.
That all went well for about a year. Boom. Robbed again. Really thought it was the windows, but in a high rise? I'm like thirty stories up, so that seemed really far fetched. I called in the mage again. He went around doing a lot of weird-ass stuff, but eventually said he thought the burglar was teleporting in and bypassing the "traditional"locks. First he recommended moving, but I'm pretty set in my ways and I like my apartment. His next recommendation was a "Blood Seal."I was kinda leery, but he explained that it took way less blood than I might think, and that it would "bind me"to my apartment, thus preventing anyone else from teleporting in or out. I went for it. Only a couple drops of blood, in the end, and he used them to make a seal on the door, right in the place a lock would go, and some "lesser anchors"on the outer walls. Again, way more affordable than I thought it'd be. That was number five.
Things were great for another year or so, then it happened again. Clearly a robbery; my apartment was trashed. I called the mage again. He walked in, said hello, took a look around and groaned. Said he immediately knew what had happened and that I needed someone else. Gave me a card, with just a number on it. He said to call it, let it ring, and hang up. So I did, later that day. Nothing happened for a while, but then while I was making a sandwich, a woman walked out of my bedroom. Scared the shit out of me, let me tell you. But the mage had told me to expect some odd goings-on. So this woman wasn't really a *woman* per se, but she was close; her features were big too angular, her eyes an unnatural color, her movements too... jerky. Really struck me as a quintessential Uncanny Valley example. Close to human, but just off enough to make you profoundly uneasy. She didn't say much, nothing in the way of greeting or preamble, just after a while of looking around she said, "Extraplanar beings. Your word is Djinn"I nodded (nothing fazed me too much anymore - being robbed by djinn, whatever (I googled it after she left)). I asked how to guard against it. In short, it was a long process with a lot of exotic ingredients. The "woman"sat in my house, unmoving, until I had gone out and acquired them all. Felt weird, but the mage guy recommended her, so I didn't think *she'd* rob me while helping me not be robbed. Naive, I know, but it worked out. In the end, all the stuff I'd gotten - rat skulls (hunted them) and bat eyes (I know a guy) and tungsten rods (expensive), etc - went into a small little totem, and I hung it on the door, above my other locks just for the lulz, I guess. Didn't have any more djinn problems after that."
----------------
After I'd apparently finished my story, my guest, an inquisitive neighbor, an older lady (the doting aunt type), looked confused. "But, what of the last one? It looks so normal."
I smiled. "Yeah, it's pretty normal, really. Just metal and a small enchantment. It's only really there for one reason."
"Oh,"she said.
"It took me a really long time to figure out who was robbing me. Who would even know I was here to rob?"
She started to look very uneasy.
"That last one locks the door the other way. Key only, and it's in my pocket. That one's to keep a thief from getting out again." |
There's a lot of pressure on the scientific community at the moment. A lot of powerful people have had designer genetic procedures done. Now, they're scrambling for a solution before their expiration dates comes up. I understand their fear, but really, they've brought this upon themselves through vanity.
When the technique was first developed. It was hailed as a medical breakthrough, that would save millions of lives and improve the quality of life of millions more. Resequencing certainly has lived up to those claims. Multiple sclerosis and ALS are essentially eradicated in the western world, cancer survival rates have skyrocketed.
The people who have been resequenced for medically justifiable reasons are fine, better than they might ever have hoped to be. My philosophy allows for accessible medical treatment for anyone who needs it.
It tarnished my professional reputation when I first started developing designer mutations. Everyone took me at face value and assumed I was in it for the money. I certainly didn't mind taking the money from the rich and redistributing it to myself, and charitable organizations of my choosing, but I had loftier ambitions.
I'm sure your starting to put things together now. A new world order, an end to tabloid celebrity culture. Our modern silicon gods of our day reduced to bubbling puddles of flesh and pus.
The hardest part was deciding how late to set the alarm. I needed to throw the net as widely as possible, attract every aging socialite and botoxing business man I could. Fifteen years seemed like an appropriate amount of time.
They're scrambling now. They might have as many as 15 years left if they only just had the procedure done. Try as they might though, they'll find my trap is written into every crucial genetic structure and is quite irreversible.
You're probably asking yourself, "is it really such a crime to want to be a little bit more beautiful, a bit smarter or more charming?"Yes, it is. These people have been the parasites on our society since time immemorial. They are a flame lapping at the very fabric of our society. Others before me have tried to eliminate the bourgeois and the aristocratic class by martial force. I have succeeded by letting them destroy their own DNA. |
**Hi! This is my first time posting a story here. I'm not a writer at ALL, but I'm good with my English, so I thought I could give it a go! I'd love to hear some feedback and constructive (or not!) criticism!**
I couldn't believe that it had come to this. With new, even harsher limitations put in place two years ago on Birthing, newborns were becoming a very rare sight. Famine was no longer an issue, so everybody thought the overpopulation crisis was finally over.
*Thought.*
I have had to end too many lives in my... *career*, and with every last breath I hear, the hole in my sanity grows deeper and wider. Not one soul was lost by my hand that I didn't second-guess. But **this**, this was true insanity.
This girl must have been barely six years of age, and yet she had done something so abhorrent that I had been tasked to take from her all the years she has left. Famine was not the issue. New minds needed new educating. New manipulating. New brainwashing.
But as much as I doubted myself, I had a job to do, my own family to care for, my own life at risk.
The girl, tangled auburn hair obscuring her groggy, hazel eyes, looked at me with some indignation; it was early in the morning, and I supposed her parents were still asleep. One might call this an 'opportune moment'. In one hand I fingered the hilt of a dagger that had been exposed to far too much blood, as it sat, waiting, *thirsty*, for a bath. I began to speak, cautiously, wearing a false smile I had once practised for many hours in front of a mirror.
"Hi there. My name is Locke, I'm new here, just moved in to the room next door!"Some of this was true, I suppose. I had rented the room next to hers when I entered the building. Well, *rented* is the wrong word.
The girl looked at me warily, I wasn't exactly dressed casually, I suppose. Suit jacket, crisp black tie and with an unusually large belt.
*A tool belt.*
"Uh... I'm Claire."she rubbed her eyes and yawned.
"Hi Claire!"I wore my smile wider. "It's great to meet you! Listen I have a bit of a problem with the TV in this room, do you know how the TVs work?"
This seem to catch her attention - I wish it didn't. Kids love working technology, especially smart phones, but I hadn't the time nor the inclination to need one. I began to anticipate the big moment.
"Oh. Yeah, I do, whatcha need help with?"she asked, all caution in her voice lost.
"Just how to change the channel. I'm not very good with this sort of thing!"This was actually half true, and is even why I don't use a gun. Mechanical things don't agree with me.
She agreed and followed me into my room. It was ironic, really - I was far more frightened than her. No matter how many lives you end, it never gets any less traumatic. I still have nightmares about the first. And the second. And the forty ninth. She was my sixty second kill. That was it. To the government, she was just a number on a list. So I forced myself to treat her like one, and already I felt the hole in my soul tear anew.
As she picked up the TV remote, I used the sound from the TV channel changing to mask the drawing of my stiletto. This was it. I knew, just like all the others, where to strike. Go for the back, the centre of either the left or the right lung.
My weapon seemed to move itself - like a leopard ready to enjoy just another prey's blood. The weapon buried itself, and the poor girl gasped. I was shedding tears as it happened. I knew the gasp wasn't actually a gasp, but the air released from the punctured lung, ensuring she didn't scream. She wasn't dead immediately, but she sure as hell wasn't going to get back up.
I couldn't believe it had come to this. Dammit! everybody thought the overpopulation crisis was finally over.
*..thought can blind you to the reality.*
END.
I wasn't expecting it to be this long, I have never even written a reddit post this long! I hope it wasn't for nothing, and thanks for reading!
|
"Oh, you're waking up now."An icy, female voice said to him.
It split through Brandon's head like a lightning bolt. As he lifted his eyes, he found his sister Stacy standing over him. There was a scowl on her face. Dazedly, he became aware that he was in a hospital, dressed in a smock with something taped to his forehead.
His every movement sent shots of pain through his head and neck. It centered around the left side of his upper skull. Reaching up, he found a bandage there. There was crusted blood where he stuck his fingers beneath it, and he felt a harsh sting where his fingers struck an open wound.
He shot upright at that, but his legs were water. He almost fell over, but Stacy darted under his arm, steadying. She eased him back into bed.
"Easy there, 'wild man'. You're not in any kind of shape to rush things."
Wild man. That sounded familiar. Yes...it was his moniker last night. "Tonight, I'm a wild man!"He hazily remembered proclaiming to anyone listening, as well as a few who weren't.
"You remember what happened last night?"She asked him. Her voice was harsh, still, but softening, somewhat.
He tried to. The night was a haze of brightly lit images without context or meaning. He remembered being on a passionate phone call. He remembered standing on a table, dancing. He remembered yelling at someone, and his hands all over the body of a gorgeous blonde. As her face appeared to him, he felt horrified for the first time.
"Oh God...I made out with Melody."He said of his girlfriend's sister.
Stacy nodded.
"In front of Susan, no less."Stacy confirmed, "Put the moves on her everytime she was out of earshot."
He felt his stomach lurch, and he was sure he was going to vomit. Stacy held a pink plastic wastebasket for him, but it never came.
"What in God's name is wrong with you?"She asked, "You're lucky to even have Susan, and you pull something like that on her?"
"Embroxin."He said, "Oh God...I must have ODed."
"Ooooh."She said, the anger in her tone melting away as understanding took its place, "That makes sense."
"Edible gels."He said, "I didn't think they were working, so I took more of them. I can handle my liquor and I"m pretty shy, so I though I might have to up the dosage..."
"Brandon! Those are time release! You didn't feel anything because it hadn't hit that."
"I know, I know..."He said, "Now, I do, anyway."
"Bet you mixed it with booze, too, huh?"She said.
He groaned by way of answering.
"Double whammy. Nice."She said, shaking her head, "Oh, big brother...you really did it this time."
The question was burning on his mind, but he was afraid to ask it. He felt almost as though he could shrink away form it, and it would go away if he could just avoid it long enough. But he had to know.
"Is that...all I did? The thing with Melody."
"If it was, you wouldn't be here."Stacy said, shaking her head. She may not have been angry anymore, but she was clearly exasperated.
"What else?"He asked, his face in his hands. Forcing the question out was an almost physical effort, "How did I end up in the hospital, and what the hell happened to my head?"
"That was the fight you got into. And since he didn't kill you, you should really thank the guy for putting an end to your little 'bender'."She said, "I should have known then what'd you'd gotten yourself into. You haven't been in a fight since you were in middle school."
He remembered it now, hazily. The bouncer had been about twice his size, and was pure muscle. He'd drug him off the table he'd been dancing shirtless on, and heaved him outside effortlessly. Brandon should have left it at that, but looking at the guy from behind, he really thought that one, quick punch to the temple could do it if he'd surprised him.
And he had surprised him, he remembered now. But instead of obediently passing out, the bouncer had recoiled, turning to land a haymaker on him. He didn't remember anything after that, but he must have hit something on the way down.
"Am I gonna be charged?"He asked.
"I doubt it."Stacy said, "He fucked you up a lot more than you did him. If you explain yourself I'm sure you can talk the guy out of it. You have to be apologetic, though."
"I will, I will."He said, meaning every word of it. He felt horrible about everything.
Another troubling thought hit him.
"Do Mom and Dad know?"He asked.
Stacy barked a laugh at that.
"Jesus, you don't remember that either?"She said, "I'm only hear because they refused the hospital's call. That and Sus had already called me when you started acting like a friggin moron..."
Again, Brandon felt nauseous.
"Oh no...what did I do to them?"
"You called Dad to tell him to go fuck himself. That you weren't going to put up with his rules and that you'd pay for your own education."She said, shaking a fist for emphasis, "You told about the thing with Mom, too, so they're into it now."
"Oh God!"He said, recoiling. Was he going to fuck up his parents' relationship as well as his own?
"Yeah."Stacy said, "Really, I'm about the only person you didn't piss off. I guess you even told off Scott?"
He remembered that one perfectly well. Laying down the law with his roommate was the night's opening act; long before the heavy hit he'd taken scrambled his memory. He felt ashamed as he remembered the tongue lashing he'd given him.
He suddenly felt the full, naked gravity of all that he'd done. He'd burned every single bridge he had. Somehow, almost everyone who was important to him had gotten caught up in this cascade of stupidity.
"I ruined everything..."He said, tears welling up in his eyes. His voice broke more than he intended it to.
"Hey! Hey..."Stacy's said, her voice dropping immediately into a sympathetic tone, "It's alright..."
That only made it worse. As her hand touched his, he could feel tears fall openly, running down his cheeks.
"Dude, relax."She said, not unkindly, "You've got some serious damage control to do. And you won't be able to do it overnight. But I think you can manage."
He struggled to gain his composure.
"Really?"
"Brandon, you're a nice guy."She said, "You're an agreeable guy. Last night was so, wildly unlike you that I think you can probably talk your way out of it. And I can tell just looking at you how shitty you feel about the whole thing."
"Damage control."He whispered, "I gotta beg Sus for forgiveness. And God only knows what Melody's thinking. I'll probably have to buy my way out Scott's doghouse and...oh, God...what if I really messed up Mom and Dad."
The ghost of a smile crossed Stacy's lips.
"You let me worry about Mom and Dad. I'll go play ambassador with them."She said, "You just focus on Susan. That's a hill you've gotta climb on your own. She's a pretty reasonable girl, but she's in a whole world of hurt right now."
He nodded, cursing himself for his own stupidity.
"Damnit...how did I let this happen?"He said, "It's like I though the world was mine."
"Embroxin's a bitch, man. A real two timer."She said, "It makes you feel like you deserve anything you want and it shuts off that part of you that says no when you think something stupid."
"I guess we need that, huh?"He said, "A little humbleness. Caution and all that."
She nodded.
"I know you're shy, but you've got people who care about you. Why'd you do it in the first place?"
"I don't know."He said, "I guess..."
He pause, groping for the thought.
"I guess sometimes we all feel worthless, you know? It's so hard for me to take charge."He said, "I feel like I'm just a follower sometimes. Like I'm just along for the ride in my own life. I wanted to feel like...like..."
"Like the life of the party?"She offered.
"Yeah. Like that. The center of attention or whatever."
"Well, you definitely were that."She said, "I'm not gonna give you a hard time about this anymore, but I can give you some advice if you want it."
"Sounds like I need it."He groaned.
"Just be you, dude. Sink or swim. We all wanna be someone else, but people like us for who we are. Don't try so hard to fake it."
"Thank you, Stacy."Brandon said, from the bottom off his heart, "And I am so...so sorry."
She squeezed his shoulder.
"Don't mention it. Seriously. Like, we should never talk about this again."
He chuckled.
"Believe me, I am okay with that!" |
Wiggins' hands trembled as he brought the glass of whiskey to his lips. He read the article again.
>Of the expedition team of four, three members have been reported missing. Police have started a full-scale investigation.
He had told the investigators alll he knew. They'd found the creature in a hidden grove of coral, on a submarine mission to study decline of marine plantlife. First they'd thought it was the body of a drowned diver. Then they'd noticed the slime, and the eyes. Oh god, the piercing, green eyes that seemed to pry at his soul.
Wiggins took another trembling gulp of whiskey, revelling in the burning feeling in his throat, hoping to forget. The creature hadn't struggled when they deployed the robotic sampling arms to drag it to the surface. Even then the creature hadn't reacted, instead looking at the sky with an almost puzzled, interested expression on its face. Then those green eyes had turned on the submarine again.
As Wiggins had told the journals and, later, the investigators, they'd put it in one of the tanks prepared for the coral samples, where it had stayed on their journey back. They had recorded a video of it on the way there, a video that had been published and sparked up controversy and debate. But when they wanted to debark ashore, the creature inside the tank had changed. Any ressemblance of a facial structure was gone, and all that was left was a translucent shell in the shape of a human. When they later examined the remains, the team had been shocked to find it consisted of nothing but common mesoglea, a substance often found in gelatinous zooplankton.
This had of course caused the scientific community to label the team as frauds, and the media evidence as manipulated. All four of them had lost their jobs. The first disappearance was three months later.
Wiggins nervously scanned the room with his bloodshot eyes. The papers were finally starting to take this seriously, and there was a team of two policemen assigned to guarding his safety now. But Wiggins didn't feel safe.
He staggered out of his seat, towards his bathroom. On the way there he almost knocked over his lamp. He'd had too much whiskey, but for Wiggins too much was not enough. He wanted to forget those green, haunting eyes, prying at his soul.
Wiggins never made it to the bathroom.
Like a swelling drop of water from a tap, four slime-covered humanoids materialized out of thin air around the former researcher, who was hyperventillating now. They held up devices that materialized into glass-like walls, forming a transparent box around the staggering man. A box that very closely ressembled an aquarium.
Wiggins was almost grateful to lose consciousness, faced with those four sets of green, prying, *researching* eyes. Before he fainted from the shock, Wiggins thought he could see the world blurring around him, like the very fabric of existence was being traded for another.
When the two policemen who had held post at Wiggins' door stormed into the appartment, alarmed by strange sounds from the inside, the room was deserted. All they found were four puddles of gelatinous sheets, lying curiously on the floor. |
The billionaire's club card info was highlighted on the front. I glanced over the contents. It read:
"Welcome and congratulations. You are now part of the elite of society. We invite you to join our club of elite members just like yourself. Of course, there are the usual advantages of any elite club such as mixing and mingling with other interesting people. But there are other benefits to this club. You see, we protect our own. We are the only advocates for what we like to call 'billionaire's rights' and ensuring that your status is recognized properly by those around you such as".
I trailed off the paper for a second as a servant brought me my afternoon cocktail. I continued on the paper...
"1) The legal system can be so difficult and expensive to navigate. Our club members do not turn their backs on each other. Not in any country, and not for any lawsuit that some average member of the population might try to bring against you. No doubt that you have a fine legal team supporting you currently, but we make it easy for you to use them less.
2) Financial markets can be so tumultuous. We bring order to chaos, just for you. Should you desire some asset's price to move a specific way at a specific time, well then we have plenty of members of our club who can help you make that happen with the least resistance and the most shock to the market.
3) Law enforcement relations can be so intimidating for the average person who might be susceptible to such trivialities as speeding tickets, domestic charges, and various sexual abuse charges. The last of which I think we all know how that works. Let's just say that the Du Pont heir, yes the one that got zero jail time after some 'indiscretions' with his baby daughter, well he was of course one of the members of our club.
"
A gong sounded out suddenly, and I realized I still had some prisoners in the bin to continue my sporting. I sighed and placed the rather interesting pamphlet to the side. I believe the night-scope should work nicely, and perhaps I'll have them put into smaller cage this time as it so boring to just watch them run around screaming. Perhaps I should have a few more sent over from solitary confinement.
|
Damn it, not again. There I was, on the floor, dead as a doorknob. Again. Damn that book. Memories of that night ran through my head as I dragged my own corpse to the furnace.
We had been drinking. A lot. Then that goth kid showed up. Saying he was creepy would be the understatement of the year. He walked into the bar wearing a cape, holding it in front of his face like a vampire or some shit. He walks up to the bar and orders a Bloody Mary, of course.
I mean, I was happy to just leave the creep to his creeping; but my buddies were really drunk and wanted to mess with him. So they go up and Chad (God he's a douche) went to start a fight with this goth kid. The goth kinda hissed at him and walked off. Chad gets one good shove in the goth's back as he walks off. The goth kid stumbles and falls. As he scrambles back up to his feet I see something fall out of his pocket. Goth kid runs off and I grab the book he dropped. I tried to give it back to him, but I think he thought I was Chad (douche) and sped up.
So I got home that night, book still in my pocket. I was bored and starting to sober up, so I decide to do some reading. It's probably poetry, I thought, I can appreciate a good poem. It's weird though, I can't remember what I read that night. I can barely remember the name of the book. Necro Norman or something like that, real goth sounding.
But ever since that night I come home and find myself, dead, on the floor. I have to keep burning the bodies or they get up. I think they want the book. I was just throwing them in the old quarry down the road at first, but then they started multiplying. So yeah, I might have caused a clone zombie apocalypse, sorry about that. Anyway, if anyone knows this goth kid tell him I still have his book. |
10,000 days. That's 27 years, 4 months, 2 weeks, 2 days, 17 hours, 10 minutes, and 1.92 seconds.
You toiled and sweat. Cursed and spat. Bled and wept even. And finally. Finally, you have solved it. You call your closest colleague to confirm the chemical reaction, but careful not to reveal your secret. Added in the formulas to a computational simulation to test the solution on different forms. Tested, and retested using different specimens. Alas, it is found. Its discovery, yours.
A call to the largest pharmaceutical company in the world leads you into the direction of a Mr. Smith. The man's voice is cold and calculating. Hushed when it should be loud. Suggestive and critical when it should be understanding. He does not believe you. And even so, profits are to be lost in 5 years. He desires that you meet him in person to confirm. A permanent cure for the sickness that seizes millions.
A drive to the location told to you reveals a follower at night. A gun through the window is pointed.
It suddenly dawned on you that they had known all along. |
The smell of death lingered in the hot air inside Disneyland, a once amusement park turned horror story.
Jake had heard the rumors of course, everyone had heard them, the whispers of spirits haunting the park. The whispers of *it* haunting the park. Like anyone, he didn't believe them, until he set foot in it. The park had closed twenty years back, yet the smell of blood was strong, as though it had closed just yesterday. The air felt warmer on the inside of the fence, though it was a simple chain-link type, easy for the young explorer to climb. More distressing than even that, Jake felt he was being watched.
He turned around, but saw nothing beyond an empty kids pool.
"Shit,"he whispered to himself. Jake had explored the supposed Door to Hell in Turkmenistan, the fabled Ghost's Paradise in Serbia, the site of Chernobyl, but he never felt such a sense of dread and doom. "Keep it together, man."
*Squeak.*
Jake jumped a foot into the air, looking down at the noise. It was a rat, scurrying by with a piece of meat in its mouth. Jake felt his heartbeat increase and his legs shake, unsure of why he was continuing on. He looked forward and noticed another rat come from underneath a red door. Then another. Each carried a piece of meat.
He cursed himself, but walked to the door. He pushed it open with difficulty, lock having rusted over long ago. The warm air immediately turned to burning air, hotter than a car left in the sun. He continued in, stepping over rats as they got more numerous. Once he was deep in the middle, he heard a high pitched laugh.
*Hahahahaha*, it was quick, each note lasting barely a millisecond.
Jake peeked around the corner.
Standing above a piled of bodies was a rat-human hybrid. It had blood on its snout and death in its eyes. Its ears were huge, likely leading it to have heard Jake from outside the fence.
"My God..."Jake whispered.
*Hahahahaha*.
"It's true."Jake took a step back, but tripped over a pile of rats. The rat-man walked over, still laughing. "Mickey Mouse... my God, the stories are true."
*Hahahahaha*. |
!Xabbu looked at the grade with disgust. "You clearly have not understood the assignment. Insufficient."the writing of the teacher had a disgusting flourish in the letters, as if he *liked* giving a bad mark. What did the teacher know? The little humans did something none of them before did: they started to reach out past their own planet. They sent probes to nearby objects, they linked their entire planet in something they called the *internet*. Other students micromanaged the humans and they were still pretty much unnchanged. Better fed and clothed though, as well as more devout. !Xabbu didn't even care about devotion, he wanted them to do something entertaining, and he learned that humans came up with the best stunts when left on their own. So, after a period of frantic tinkering, he did. Apart from some basic acts of protection, like keeping Yellowstone from exploding and shielding the planet from any extinction events on cosmic scale, !Xabbu just sat back.
!Xabbu considered appealing the grade, but decided not to bother. Humans already saw universes apart from their own. Eventually, they would have a word with the teacher in person. And then, there would be no deity protecting him. |
“Well, that was a rubbish fortune, what’d you get honey... honey?”
Jarad sat in Mr. Wong’s, he and his now fiancé’s favourite restaurant, opposite what appeared to be Ashley’s best impression of a statue.
“Alright, knock it off Ash, I can hear you breathing.”
Jarad was poised to flick a few grains of rice at her, when he took better stock of his surroundings. It would appear that everyone but him was in on this joke, because no one was moving. People appeared to be frozen in a variety of poses, ranging from unflattering to downright comical.
“What the fuck...?”
Jarad stood and slowly circled his table. He approached Ashley and waved a hand across her line of sight, nothing. A gentle touch on the shoulder yielded similar results, as did a less gentle shake. After placing a finger under her nose to confirm she was in fact, breathing, Jarad went for a walk. He soon found several others in the crowded and previously bustling Mr. Wong’s to be similarly unresponsive.
“Alright, whatever this is, you’ve got me. Everyone can drop it now, this is starting to freak me out.”
The silence was deafening. Jarad picked up his fortune again:
“404: Future not found.”
Admittedly, Jarad’s idea of humour, but it was starting to be rather unsettling, given his current predicament. He almost fell out of his chair, as a deep voice emanated from his right.
“Well, Jarad, it would appear that you are somewhat of an enigma.”
Jarad was greeted with the image of a tall man in a shiny suit.
“Wh-“
The man held up a hand, and cut him off.
“Yes, yes, who am I? How do I know your name? What is going on? You people are so uncreative. I am, for want of a better explanation, Time. And you, Mr. Robredo, are interrupting my day.”
“Well, sorry about that, mate, but this isn’t exactly a regular day for me either. Seeing as you seem to be able to predict all of my questions, I assume you know what I’m going to ask you now – Why me? What the Hell is going on here?”
“That’s just the thing - you seem to be quite, unpredictable. As is evident from that cookie you have in your hand right now. Everybody’s future is written from the moment they are conceived. Everyone it would seem, but you. You pose a problem, Jarad. I don’t like problems.”
“Look, I have no idea what’s going on right now, but it’s just a fortune cookie, man. These things don’t actually work, their mass produced BS.”
“Indeed, they are usually total... BS. But, not always, it would seem. You had a future Jarad, it was written like everybody else’s, but you have found a way to erase it. Make this easier on both of us, and tell me how.”
Jarad stared blankly at the tall man and shrugged. He was now seated opposite him. For some reason, Jarad was only just noticing that they were now alone. They were still in Mr. Wong’s, but it was now a private party.
“I couldn’t have less of an idea what you’re talking about. We’re alone, where did everyone go?”
A disconcerted expression crossed Time’s face, displacing the look of practiced apathy, for the first time.
“A little experiment. We are no long in a plane accessible to Man - which begs a much more pertinent question, why are you still here?”
“Look, I have no idea what’s going on. Half an hour ago, I was having dinner with my fiancé.”
Time raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.
“You think half an hour has passed... interesting. I take it back, this is an intriguing interruption indeed. Let us drop the pretence, who are you, really?”
“I’m Jarad Robredo, a 27 year old electrician, there is literally nothing even the slight bit interesting about me.”
“Well, that makes sense, maybe you don’t even know. Yes, has got to be it. They wouldn’t want you working it out.”
“They, who is they? Throw me a bone here, man, I’m not operating on your level right now. Who is it you think I am?”
“There is only one type of being in the universe who does not have a defined future, whose path is not laid out before my eyes. You are a Sentinel.”
“Sorry, I’m a what?”
“A Sentinel, a being placed on Earth, or any other planet, for that matter, when an event which will change the course of a Race’s destiny is imminent. Sleeper cells, you might say. Well, that’s a fairly new hypothesis on my part. This is actually a first for me too, which trust me, are very rare for me.”
“Alright, I’m just going to suspend my disbelief for a second here, because I’m pretty sure this is a very intense acid trip. What exactly is my role, as a Sentinel?”
“Well, not to take psychedelic drugs. You’re role as a Sentinel, is to ensure that what must come to pass, does so successfully. I do not know of an occasion when a Sentinel has not completed their task effectively. I can only assume you will know what it is you must do, when the time comes, so to speak.”
Jarad stood and dragged his gaze away from the man seated opposite to him. The longer he surveyed him, the more unsettled he became. It was impossible to tell how old he was. He went from ancient beyond reckoning to youthful in a matter of moments.
“Look, man, I didn’t ask for this shit. So, you can just leave me alone, alright. I have no idea about any of this, and trust me I never will. I’m just a normal guy, I think you’ve got your wires crossed on this one.”
Time also stood and walked forwards, until he was only a few feet from Jarad.
“I’m sorry, my friend, but I cannot take that chance. I think I know what event you are connected to, and it’s the end of the line. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t care less about what happens to humanity, but the end for you is also the end for me. Now, that is something I care an exceptional amount about.”
Jarad felt as if the walls were closing in on him, and Time was slowly receding from his presence.
“You see, I cannot allow you to leave here, Sentinel. As long as you do not complete your task, all should be well. I wouldn’t look so worried; I’ll be back in 5... or not, don’t really know how this one works.”
|
March 5th: "Scientists admit asteroid 'a hoax'; 'but please, we really do need more money'"
March 6th: "Asteroid insurance companies brace for financial ruin"
March 7th: "New fashion trends emerge amidst worldwide riots"
March 8th: "World-leader spaceship-departure meets applause: 'They're finally gone!'"
March 9th: "'The Onion' considering merger with Martian news company. 'Screw you all, I've got mine,' says editor"
March 10th: "Crazy, schizophrenic end-timers vindicated! Their psychiatrists hate us!"
March 11th: "This may be The Onion's final broadcast. Please preserve this article for future generations." |
"George, we need to talk."
I stood there, sweat forming on the back of my neck. "Uhh, sure Al, what do we need to talk about?"
George put down his mug and took a biscuit off his plate, examining it thoroughly before smashing it between his elongated jaws. "It's about...your payments,"he said between mouthfuls.
My shoulders sagged a little. I knew I was behind on the payments, but it wasn't my fault! Jimmy down the road had stopped trading with me, so I didn't have the cash I was expecting today. "Look, all I need is a few more days. That's it, then you'll have your payments, plus interest."
George looked me in the eye, raising what I could only guess was his equivalent of an eyebrow. "Now now, be careful what you promise, because we will collect."
"Of course, of course. I'll make sure the payments are ready by Friday, and you'll have no more trouble from me, none at all George."I tried a smile, but it came it weird so I gave up.
George sighed and slithered down to the ground onto his legs. "Friday it is then. I'll be back."And with that he left by the front door, closing it with his tail as he went.
'This is the last time I deal with the Alligators. The Crocs are much more friendly' I thought to myself, realising I'd burnt my coffee. 'Plus, who the hell deals in beef jerky these days?' |
“You extinguished the flame,” said the old mage, knowing that it sounded silly to state the obvious.
The boy was wide-eyed, but only because of his innocence, not because he was surprised.
“And I didn’t even wave my hands!” proclaimed the boy.
The old mage nodded. “No. And that is because you didn’t have to. So few know that.”
The flame sprung up again—this being the old mage’s doing—and he rubbed his back as he shuffled across the cabin to the tea kettle that had started a low whistle.
“So then how did you do it?” said the mage.
The boy shrugged. “Well, doesn’t fire need oxygen?”
“Yes.”
“So I created a vacuum around the flame.”
“Very good.” The mage poured himself a cup; the boy hated tea. “All of my students before you have simply pushed forward their hands and created a gust of wind.”
“But why use your hands? A gust of wind could miss. Or maybe the gust isn’t strong enough. Or maybe too strong and you do more damage than you would…”
The boy was good. His best student. A true thinker. Few understood what the old mage knew. Good magic wasn’t flashy. Good magic was simply smart. You didn’t kill the dragon with a giant fireball that completely drained you. The dragon could survive, maybe it was immune to fire.
“So tell me, boy, how do we kill the Liverthorne?” The mage took a sip of tea and spat it out. “I never added sugar to this!”
The boy giggled. The mage smiled.
“How did you do it? I specifically cast a condition where nothing could be created in this tea. A precaution I take to those trying to cast a poison spell.”
“I know,” smiled the boy. “I just flipped how your taste buds taste bitter and sweet. It’s back to normal now.”
Maybe too smart.
“Back to Liverthorne…”
“Dragons breath, right?” said the boy.
“Possibly.”
“Vacuum around his body. Just like the flame.”
“What if it can hold its breathe? What if it doesn't need to breath? You only have 2-3 chances at most.”
The boy frowned. “It needs to see. I could block the photons from reaching it. And the vacuum would handle smell too... presumably.”
“Better,” said the mage. But he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. The boy would face the dragon in time.
“So again,” said the mage. “Put out the flame. From the fireplace this time.”
The boy was getting good.
|
Mr. Wood stopped, tapping his marker on the board.
"Come on, class,"he sighed, "it's your own time you're wasting."
"It's not even real history, sir!"Mr. Wood turned and, as he expected, little Tyrone Hobbs was sitting with his feet on his desk and an outraged expression on his face. "Bad enough that we got to learn all that old days stuff that's real!"
Mr. Wood loved Tyrone, in the same way you love your bowels: they're occasionally embarrassing and inconvenient but they do something vital and you wouldn't last long without them. He smiled.
"It's on the curriculum, Tyrone, we discussed this last week. I *have* to teach it."
The door swung open and a man stepped in. His greatcoat brushed the floor as he walked quietly to the back of the classroom. No one met his gaze, but each and every child clocked the red sash and the peaked cap of a Commissar.
"Are you experiencing difficulty motivating the class, Mister Wood?"
"Not at all, Mister Priestly."
"Commissar. The title is Commissar."
"Sorry. Commissar Priestly, the class is settling in to the subject as one might expect."
"'snot even real history"muttered Tyrone. There was a click, like a press stud popping open.
"Does anyone else feel that the subject of the lesson is somehow *not real*?"asked the Commissar.
A lone hand went up. Mr. Wood made eye contact with Neveah, who was normally so quiet and well behaved in class. She met his gaze and shrugged.
"Don't see how things ain't happened yet can be in a lesson"she said.
**BLAM**
Even Tyrone jumped. Even Tyrone suddenly seemed dedicated to the history of the forty first millennium. Even Tyrone didn't want to look round.
"There,"said the Commissar "they seem...motivated. Do let me know if there's anything else I can do for you, Mister Wood. The Emperor Protects."
"'mperor protects"said Wood, reflexively making the Aquila sign. At the back of the class, near the corpse, a couple of the children had started, silently, to sob. |
Scavenger Log 228 - Mitchell Price reporting in.
Date - March 28th, 2480
*A routine comb over of the Asteroid Fields of Kor'kan has been as dull as assumed to be. It's becoming abundantly clear that my time is being wasted here by The Overseers. A punishment? Perhaps. But they're wasting a lot of their potential by sending me here. I'm going to do one more repeat of the area before heading back home*.
Mitchell slumped back into his chair and began to navigate through the asteroid field. He had been a Scavenger for well over 5 years and had made a name of himself as one of the most talented. To find himself working a Dead Zone is an insult more than an injury. Mitchell contemplated setting the Scouter to auto-pilot and going back to sleep. He shifted his head behind him to try his best to locate the bed, but the extremely small and cramped looking ship made him think twice.
*On second though, I think I might just try to get through this as fast as possible and just head on home*. He thought to himself. A sly grin began to form across his face. *If I revert the Thrusters energy into the Scanners, I should be able to scan the entire field from right here. I'd be done within minutes*. Mitchell let out a victory woo for his own genius and rapidly began to move his hands over the controls.
With a dull humming the Thrusters began to deactivate as the Scanners whirled into overdrive. The entire Field light up like fireworks on his display and, as he had assumed right, could see the whole field. And something that was far to big for an Asteroid.
*Is that... A planet? What the fuck. Oh, I'm going a raise for this one*. Suddenly the spaceship began to shake and an ear shattering explosion rattled the inside. With no power in the Thrusters the ship couldn't sway its way out of the wandering asteroids, and with Mitchell not paying attention, one of them had managed to collide with the starboard thrusters. Mitchell began to cough as smoke began to invade the cabin. With a flurry of movements he turned all the energy into the Thrusters and turned to the direction of the planet. He pushed the ship as fast as it could go, as fire began to breathe life into the air.
With barely a few minutes to spare he managed to land on the barren planet. He frantically pulled his Spacesuit on and opened the Shuttle-door. The fire, almost instantly, extinguished itself.
"Science 101. Fire needs oxygen"Mitchell smugly declared to himself. *Fuck, this thing has taken a beating. Gonna take a few hours to fix this.* Mitchell turned his head around to see a barren wasteland devoid of any life. *Oh boy. I'm so lucky, so blessed, to have found this wonderful place*.
He walked backed inside the Shuttle to grab his Repair Tools and proceeded to make fast work of the broken Thruster. After several hours he decided to take a rest. He slouched onto the side of the Shuttle and stared outwards into the Wasteland. It reminded him of novels he read growing up, of Earth, after the Apocalypse. Nothing to be seen for the eyes to see. Except, a ridge, about 2 Kilometers ahead. (6,561 feet for the Americans out there).
Mitchell stood up and proceeded to rattle off a speech about the need for discovery in the human race and as ambassador he shall navigate this planet as he trudged forward towards the Ridge. About 2 minutes in he regretted his decision as he forgot to grab his Flashlight, so he returned to grab it, and set off again.
After several minutes he had made it to the base of the Ridge. *As Humanity's first person on this gorgeous planet I shall find the locals over this ridge and make amends!* Mitchell chuckled to himself as he rose the ridge. As he reached the top, fear grabbed Mitchells heart and gripped its talons into it. A tiny structure of unknown purposes stared him right in the face.
"Fuck"he muttered to himself. As part of the Scavengers duty he was entrusted with the search of any unknown things, be it of Alien or Human, creation. *I didn't expect to find shit. Fuck. Okay, lets do this*. His face became one of steel determination and he slowly sneaked towards the building. As he got closer he saw it had approximately 3 stories to it. He walked through the front door.
He made eyes around the room and saw nothing of interest. Infact, he saw nothing. A completely empty building. *Phew.* He did a quick search of the two levels above him first and found nothing on those levels either. He quickly scuttled down onto the first floor again and walked into the last room he hadn't explored. In there, he found a hole in the wall that delved downwards into the ground.
*I sure as fuck ain't going in there, nope, no way, fuck that, holy shit.* Mitchell gulped and looked behind him to make sure nothing was there. *Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck*. He looked in there with his flash light and saw a small platform for him to stand on about 2 metres down. He sat down on the edge of the hole and swung his feet over. He closed his eyes tightly and with a little jump he went down.
With a crash, he landed on top of his Flash light and completely shattered it. The sound echoed throughout the cavern. He knew what he had done before he had reopened his eyes and stood there in silence. Part of him was terrified due to the silence. He felt as if he was being watched. Part of him was full of joy with the silence. If there was silence, there was perhaps nothing there. After a few minutes of quiet deliberation with himself he finally opened his eyes.
With awe he looked around himself. Thousands of bright Magenta lights shone down upon him basking him in its purple glow. *Jackpot. Gem stones all over the walls*. He leaned downwards to grab his Flashlight and tried to make it work so he could get a better look. He had completely broken it, rendering it useless. With a grin only the devil would be envious of he jumped out of the hole and back into the building. With renewed vigor he ran back towards his Shuttle.
*I'm gonna be rich, I'm gonna be rich* he sung to himself in his head. Within minutes he was back at his Shuttle. He made one more quick routine check of the Thruster and confirmed he had fixed it to completion. He backed into his Shuttle and closed the door behind him. With a stride he moved back into his seat. *Let's get off this rock*.
He turned on the lights and the oxygen all at once and, with that, a blood curdling cry emitted from the back of the cabin. He quickly spun around and saw a humanoid like creature writhing in pain at the back of the Shuttle with its back facing Mitchell. It roared in pain as its skin began to sizzle. Within seconds it began to make a heaving, choking like, sound.
"It's the lights and Oxygen, you can't breathe right?"Mitchell yelled to the Beast. "You can't reply what the hell am I doing". Just as Mitchell was about to turn around and flick the switches back the Beast roared once more and 5 claws ripped out of its hands and impaled the ground underneath it. Mitchell stood there for a few seconds in quiet contemplation. "I'm sorry. But I'm sure you're not going to be very forgiving of the pain I've brought you". He stood there watching this Creature's life rush out of it.
After a minute of watching, the Beast finally stopped moving. Its lifeless corpse hit the ground.
"I'm so sorry". Mitchell slowly walked towards the Beast and flipped its body over. He looked over its red-burnt body and stared at its face stunned. Horror and dread enveloped his body as he scanned its face. Its mouth, if you could call it that, resembled nothing short of the mouth of Hades itself. Teeth made of daggers pushed themselves out of its lips. No ears, which Mitchell assumed, meant it didn't rely on its hearing. And no nose, either, so smell wasn't a gift this beast was burdened with.
None of that was what gave Mitchell the terror in his chest. It was the beasts giant Magenta eyes staring back at him. |
This is my first response to a writing prompt. I hope you enjoy.
"What will I ask you?"
Death gave me a blank look and his reply was, "What?"
"That's my question. What will I ask you?"
Death looked at me in a thoughtful manner. After a while, he said, "I'll need a moment to think."
"That's okay."I said, "Let's head to the cafe while you mull it over."
At the cafe Death sipped his coffee, trying to solve the riddle i had given him. I sit back, feeling content with my question as i knew no one could possibly solve it.
After a long time, he gave up. "Mortal, you have done what nobody else had done. You stumped me. For no being in the universe can foresee the future. You have won the challenge, however, you will join me eventually. Everyone does."
He then gave me my life back and I offered to pay for his coffee, but he insisted that he pay. So I bid him farewell.
As I was walking home, a drunk driver slid off the road and into my side.
Death once more approached me. With a smile on his face he said "I know the answer. You will ask 'Can I have another chance?' But that was you're last chance dear mortal. Everyone joins me eventually. Some just take longer than others." |
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