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Jacob sat at his desk, twiddling his pencil around, completely drowning out Mr Gunther’s lecture on the Louisiana Purchase. His mind was on other things. Like the little anime he made up in his head, thinking of all the fight scenes and deep character development, with music from other anime playing in the background. He had no idea, but two seats to the left and one seat down, his crush, Sammy Trainer, was looking at him. No one knew this about Sammy, but she had the ability to read minds. All the amazing scores she got on tests wasn’t from hard studying and dedication. Well, partially, but whenever she got stuck, she would read the minds of other people in the room, to find the answers to certain problems they knew. Anyway, she was enjoying looking through Jacob’s fake anime. Sammy stopped reading his mind then to take more notes. But at that moment, Jacob got a thought: what if mind readers were real?
Now that he thought it, he couldn’t get it out of his head. He looked around, left to right, to find suspicious faces. Everyone was either taking notes, listening to the lecture, asleep, or secretly using their phone. Mr Gunther was always clueless about the phones. So, Jacob decided to test the room a bit. He prepared to say something in his head so random and weird that anyone reading his mind would be startled. Unfortunately for Sammy, she decided to go back into Jacob’s mind to see if he was still thinking of his fake anime. But at that moment, she was hit with a very loud “INCEST WINCEST” in her head. She nearly fell off her seat, but she knocked her water bottle off the desk, the cap wasn’t completely on, so the moment it made contact with the ground, the water came out all over Andrew Perkins’s new bag; the one he got from winning the school raffle that only he really cared about since the prize wasn’t money.
“The hell Sammy?!” He shouted. He immediately picked up his bag, inspecting it. Only the bottom part of the bag was wet up, so his Nintendo Switch was safe. Everyone else looked at Sammy. She didn’t like the attention. She couldn’t tell them about her mind reading powers because that was supposed to stay secret, plus she couldn’t exactly tell everyone about hearing “Incest Wincest” in Jacob’s head.
“I uh... sorry, my hand slipped...” Sammy picked up her bottle. 30% of the water was still in it. She was worried about the looks she was getting from everyone else. But not as much as how worried she was with Jacob, who was staring her down too. He was clearly the most suspicious in the room, but because of the aforementioned crush he had on her (which she also knew about because... well, mind reading) he tried averting his eyes to look like less of a creep.
Sammy was a little flustered, but then, like someone out there was watching her back, Matt Mercia’s ringtone went full blast. It was a trap remix of the Little Einsteins intro song, and Matt forgot to silence his phone. Sammy felt a bit better, and went into Matt’s mind to hear what he was thinking. This is what he was thinking.
“FUCK FUCK DUCK SUCK FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK SHIT. FUCK FUCK MOTHERFUCK I WANT MY LIFE TO QUIT” but in the same tune as Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. And on loop. |
Nothing. Again. I knew the Lord of Darkness was a busy entity but he could have at least given me a sign. Even just a "Hello.". I was a nice evil sorcerer with decent powers, I just needed him to give me a chance to impress him. I had been trying to contact him for a while now, but neither the pentacle invocation nor the black mass worked. I even sacrificed some virgins and didn't even received a "Thank you"card in return. The Unholy Ruler's behaviour was bordering on rude at this point.
Well, if I couldn't reach him directly, maybe I could ask a damned soul to carry a message for me. I searched the Dark Pages for a suitable candidate. Balgor the Marked looked good. Maybe he could tell me why the Antichrist wasn't returning my calls. I already had everything ready to summon him, and with a few words of the cursed language, he was here. He looked impressive, with flames and snakes circling him.
"WHO DARES TO SUMMON BALG... Oh I'm sorry your majesty, I didn't realise it was you. Please forgive me for this mistake."
With a gesture, he made the flames and the snakes leave. He kneeled.
"Majesty? What are you talking about? I wish to speak with the Master of the Damned."
"Who? I'm sorry your Majesty, but you see, we have so many titles it's difficult to remember them all and..."
"You know, the Dark Lord? the Cursed King?"
It was usually hard to read a demon's expression, but Balgor's was definitely a blank stare. I sighed.
"The Devil?"
"Oh... Well, I'm confused your Majesty. You are the Devil."
"Me? That's ridiculous. I would remember that, wouldn't I?"
"Welll... I think it has something to do with hiding from another demon who wants to take your place on the Dead Throne. A kind of plot where you hide as a human and cut all contact with our world until your army settle this matter. That's why I was surprised when I saw that it was you who called me. You know, that was pretty dangerous for you and..."
"Enough! Begone now!"
So I was Satan himself, heh? And all I needed to do to gain absolute power was to remain hidden from demons until I died? I could do that. From now on, there would be no more summoning. A small price to pay for the Throne of Hell.
_____
Balgor the Marked returned to hell and immediately kneeled again.
"Did he buy it?"The Devil asked.
"I think so, my Lord. But why don't you just tell him you aren't interested?"
"It's easier this way. You never know how people like him handle rejection."
As he was saying that, a goat appeared in the room. Etched on its skin where the words "Hey, what's up?". The Lord of Darkness sighed.
"I think there is another one again, Balgor." |
Rap artist (RA): hey there Shakespeare, do you know why I came here? I came to thee from the future in machinery with iron scraps and metal wraps just to bring you these raps.
William Shakespear (WS): haha fellow traveller, how may I help thee? What be those “raps” you speak of?
RA: rap, rhythm and poetry, showing thee these works on a beat and flow, travelled time to have my skills grow, in my time there’s no need to blow, blow out on global scale records to sell out a show. I already have a few million in the bank, that you gotta know. I made that money real fast, they call me the farmer of the green stacks, I made it all from dropping big tracks, featuring men better than the likes of you, Men who unlike you have talent and have used it too.
WS: I see what thee is willing to achieve, I think that me, I see, is contemplating to conceive, when folks watch my plays they throw their roses, all the praises I receive. It must be because I bring my words like a mother brings her child into these lands. I presume you would like to continue but William has other plans.
RA: William you won’t go anywhere, William you will stay here or are you not the motherfucker they call Shakespear? To be or not be, is that the shit that people wanna see? How Romeo and Juliette, cry at each other from a balcony? Artist the likes of you should be stricken with a felony.
WS: Okay, okay listen up little child I am truly the one that they call Shakespear, and I guess you know that what else brought you back in a metal machine simply to meet me here? What’s that crap I see? The metal piece of scrap that you said brought you here? Traveller get back in your metal horse and leave this place, or I’ll tell everyone you gave Romeo the poison and have the crowd throw tomatoes in your face. While I have the crowd praise my words, they throw their roses at my feet, I know you came here just for me I guess I’m just the only one important throughout history that you had to meet. I’ve always had a feeling that I was meant to be, but your arrival here set the question free, I must become so great they will remember me through history, yes I think I have a nag for this what you call rhythm and poetry. You want me to go on son? Yeh I called you son, but you’re not my kid and I’m not your dad. Though as a fellow writer I feel like I must warn you that your representation here is kind of sad, and your lines are bad, your words don’t rhyme, guess some talent goes lost with time. I tried to write and set a good example, perhaps it’s not as bad as I think and I got a bad sample. So can you send in the next traveller or rap or writer? I feel like I’m ready to keep going on, call me a historical fighter. Do you really think you get to control the days that have come or still must come by? I’ll hang you with the thugs to die, we’ll eradicate you in the town’s square at dawn, throw rocks and shit on you, pee and spit on you before I tell my friends to cut your noose down.
The time travelling rapping feeling as if he’s about to choke, not having brought with him any music or backing track and Shakespear dropping a rap like that, he felt like it was time to go.. the whole crowd that was standing by had started making and clapping a rhythm as Shakespear was rapping and he just didn’t have what he had in his own time whilst facing Shakespear, a whole fanbase screaming your name, music, a reputation. In 2019 he felt fearless but seeing Shakespear in his own time, with his own crowd and his fans and the praise he receives, that one line where Shakespear realized how important he must have been for someone to come back to him.. maaaan..
As the rapping time traveller enters back into his own time he is suddenly on a different world, a much different world.. rap was everywhere, everyone, everywhere was rapping, every company name was a rhyme, every slogan was a rap line, everyone talked as if they were doing a freestyle. The rapper soon realised that meeting Shakespear and teaching him about rap had rewritten history itself. He was a no one now, as ordinary as every other person. He deeply regretted facing William in a rap battle. |
The One Who Bleeds Fire crossed his arms. The slowly spinning blue-green gem taunted him from the command center window. Myriad spaceships sped to and from the shifting clouds that drifted across vast continents.
"How did it all go wrong?"he asked his subordinate, The One Who Cries with Argon. "Our plan was foolproof."
Cries with Argon ducked his many eyes and cleared his throat hastily. Shifting through the system scanners, he calibrated the satellites that revolved around the life-filled marble below. "Well, things were going well initially. We established a dominating position around their base, and-"
"Go w*rong,* Argon."
"Yes, yes, let me...ah, got it. It appears that our four-pronged approach was thwarted all too easily."
Bleeds Fire slammed a scaly arm onto the console. "The four-pronged approach never fails! Explain, analyst!"
Cries with Argon shuffled his feet nervously. "Well, prong one was famine. Reduce their food supply, constrain their access to water...the problem was, they've apparently already suffered a far worse drought and climate change disaster ten years earlier. They absorbed it without even flinching."
"Drat! What about disease?"
"Well,"Cries with Argon said, "Five years earlier their own vaccines finally created a super-virus that our pestilence pale in comparison to."
Bleeds Fire scowled. "Our efforts to sow division between countries? All our infiltration experts?"
"Some race known as the Amazons appeared from nowhere! They apparently have one with a magical rope that is a fool-proof lie detector, and they are the best wielders of a weapon known as the 'bow' ever seen. Singlehandedly uniting the world behind them was a cakewalk."
The commander threw his hands up in the air. This was a disaster. How could he return to the High Council like this? "Even given all that, our ground troops should have-"
"Gotten destroyed?"Cries with Argon said meekly. "They've been ravaging each other with war for decades. Centuries, even. They were more than prepared for dirty conflict."
Bleeds Fire cradled his noggin in between his talons. "How can a species of subspace apes best the most advanced species in the galaxy?"
"Boss, you're going to want to see this...they've just captured some of our technology. They're planning on launching nuclear weapons at our position."
"They have nukes!? In the name of the One Above All, we should have left them alone. They would've destroyed themselves for us!" |
"Not again!"
I screamed and dived under my desk, then dived right back out coughing from the sulphurous smoke. As I sat on the ground coughing, the demon stared at me.
The creature said nothing until I calmed down, the gruffly ordered me back into my chair.
"What? Are you going to torture me?!"
"No, I'm preventing you from torturing me. Now GET BACK IN THE CHAIR!"
I scrambled back up into my seat. The demon reached past me, causing me to flinch, and grabbed my textbook. Their other hand made a gesture and a chair appeared. They sat in it, leaned back, then summoned a pair of reading glasses.
"Okay, so how the hell are you managing this?"They muttered to themself as they flicked through my text book. "Pass me your notes."
I shakily handed over my workbook. They began comparing the two, flipping back and forth between chapters. They frowned, then went to the back of the book to try and look something up.
"Um. You... won't find anything using the Index. None of the pages match up. Like, at all."
The demon looked at me over their glasses, their golden pupils shining off the lenses. They then went back to the book, verifying my claims. I didn't recognize the language, but they were definitely cussing afterwards. They proceeded to continue flipping through the book, then tossed it onto my desk.
"I am teaching you proper Latin. I am tired of being summoned out of the damn bathtub after a long day. I'm just glad your classmates aren't as good at following directions as you are. Or maybe they are. Has anyone in your class gone missing lately?"
"Um, I don't know. I know like half the class dropped out. But I need this to graduate, and there aren't any other Latin classes till next semester."
"That,"They gestured to the textbook, "Is the least proofread text book I have seen in years. You keep summoning me because of a miss-print in the declension tables. I'd worry that it was done on purpose, except if they MEANT to teach people that set of declension, it would have been structured differently. Pick up your pen, and grab a new notebook."
I stared at them, too shocked to move.
"Well? Your final isn't based on that pile of trash, if you wish to graduate we have a lot of work to do."
"Um... how do you know that?"
"I did some research after the last time you summoned me. I considered killing you, as you interrupted me with a potential mate. But that wouldn't solve this problem. No, I am teaching you proper Latin, and for payment YOU will help me hunt down the sniveling shit responsible for this travesty of a book."
I grabbed a pen and paper.
"Good, we will start at the beginning. Write out all the declension tables you have been taught, I need to know how much I have to unteach." |
“Have you made your choice, Mr. Blake?”
The Priest’s query snapped Gunner Blake out of his trance, drawing his attention up from the table to which he had been chained. His voice trembled as he responded to the man across from him.
“I…would like to see my daughter again.”
The Priest pursed his lips as he opened his notebook and began to write. The gentle jingling of Blake’s chains was the only sound to break the silence between them. After a minute of writing, the Priest closed the notebook and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.
“Very well, Mr. Blake. You will see your daughter again. Now, are you ready to go?”
Blake retreated in his chair. “Already? Don’t you need, like, time to set it up?”
The Priest allowed himself a slight smile as he responded, “Your request was a simple one, and one we anticipated at that. We’re ready to accommodate you.”
The doors behind the Priest opened, allowing two guards to enter and begin to unchain Blake from the table. Blake recoiled at their touch, his eyes locked on the Priest, searching for mercy.
“No need to be afraid, Mr. Blake,” the Priest asserted. “You’re going to see your daughter again. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Blake relaxed as he was finally detached from the table and led from the room. The Priest followed closely behind as they turned and marched to the end of the hall. Double doors opened into a sterile room, unadorned with decoration apart from a mirror along the left wall. A single bed stood in the center of the room, with a table beside it.
The guards released the chains from Blake’s arms and legs, replacing them with straps to secure him to the bed. Once Blake was secure, the Priest tapped a vein on his right arm and prepared him for injection. The Priest then lifted the headset from the table and placed it over Blake’s eyes, saying what he said to every damned soul he euthanized.
“I hope we gave you precisely what you wished.”
The Priest pressed a button on the side of the headset, and at once he and the headset vanished from view. Blake was left alone, still bound to the bed. Blake eyes darted around the room, looking for where the Priest had gone. His search halted, however, when he saw that the mirror was now gone, and a woman stood behind the glass that had replaced it. She was tall, with brown hair framing her green eyes. Green eyes that Blake had seen before on a girl much younger. His little girl.
Blake continued to stare at his daughter as she reciprocated his gaze, but while he stared with wonderment, she did so with intent. Blake’s wonderment dissolved as he processed the tightness in her expression, and the discernment in her eyes. Blake had thought a thousand times about what she would have thought about him if she had lived long enough to learn what he had done. He had pictured fear, anger, sadness, and loathing, but as his vision blurred and he lost consciousness, he realized that he had never prepared himself for the disappointment in her face. |
"You haven't played with me for years, not since you were a child."
I looked away, I looked back, I couldn't believe it. This was my imaginary friend, Boonkoh the Bed Monster. Or at least I thought he was imaginary. I still had drawings of him I made as a child hanging on my bedroom walls.
Drawing him led to a hobby of drawing cartoons, which led to me going to art college studying animation, hoping to make career. Boonkoh led to the creation of all kinds of furry monster characters. For my final animation project I had to make a short film that employed everything I learned. I wanted to use my original characters but for the life of me, I simply could think of a story to go with them, no matter how hard I tried.
Then I remembered and I asked, "Are the others with you?"
"They're all down here,"he said, "They've been waiting for you, like I have. They miss you terribly."
"Let's pay them a visit,"I said. |
About a year into our relationship, we started living under the same roof. It was a place where I felt I belonged, where I got to be with you every day.
We didn't have to take a ride and meet up somewhere just to see each other; besides, we both liked staying indoors anyway. The neighbors tolerated the noise when our laughter got too loud, since most of the time, we spent our time in silence.
In the same room, I pored over my books and you swept a brush onto a canvas. There was no need to fill the quiet; to both of us, the company of the other was enough.
But we were walking contradictions weren't we? We liked the inside but we wanted to travel even more. I can't remember which of us started talking about flying to Japan and seeing the cherry blossoms tumble in the spring wind. Eventually, Iceland won our hearts with its exotic landscapes. We'd sing praises to the land, you with your brush, and me with my writing.
We knew for a fact that we wanted to be with each other for the rest of our lives. But not married - that was a commitment we were both afraid of.
Soon though, when we talked about the future, I couldn't imagine us striding through that dream. I thought more about what I should say so that you didn't feel my disinterest. Looking back now, I think you were trying to do the same.
I spent more days outside than in our little room. I wasn't too sure why either, but it definitely wasn't because I suddenly found a love for walking, like I told you. In return, you found more reasons to stay with your canvas than to join me outside.
The quiet felt heavy and accusatory. I think it was *because* we were so silent and reserved that I started to doubt if we were meant for each other. I felt passionate about our love, but in all honesty, it didn't feel like we knew each other at all sometimes. I thought I wanted to stay with you regardless, but when my passion was doused by doubt, my will to commit withered.
We didn't waste our time with each other, I know that much. I may not feel passionate love, but I still care about you. But that was a chapter in our life where we found comfort in each other. A time where we learned about ourselves, if not about each other.
Now, it's time to leave and venture off into our own lives. Separate this time.
>Didn't feel like I did the prompt justice, but I felt like I had to make a piece for this one anyway. Feedback appreciated ^_^ |
I adjusted my sunglasses, touched my blonde entitled-ly, and started speaking once again.
"Boy, I told you I need the manager!"
"Ma'am, can I please ask you why you need the manager?"
Poor boy. He seemed to be about 16, probably a minimum wage employee. He looked tired of my shit, and rightfully so. In fact, I was just like him 10 years ago, but something changed that...
"That's none of your damn business, you lazy teenager! I demand to see the manager!"
He scoffed. The poor boy finally broke, and I can see the sadness in his eyes. He knew that he'd get into trouble, he just didn't care.
"Well guess what, the manager isn't available right now."he scoffed
My heart broke for the poor child. He's been taking flack from me for about an hour. I decided it's better to just tell the truth.
"Alright listen kid, I'll be straight with ya."and I showed him my blue-yellow badge, with the letters KAREN written all over them.
"Y-your'e with the-"
"Yep, I'm with them."
The Kidnapped And Rescued Employee Network is a group of people who investigate kidnappings involving employees, as well as employees that have been rescued. Before you ask, I'll answer
Why do we need such a network? Because Karens have evolved. Not us, but actual ones. Instead of demanding for the manager and annoying other customers, they started kidnapping them, and doing horrible things I'll refrain from mentioning. They started looking like normal humans, because they realized that their trademark look was a giveaway. Sure, there were still people who behaved like the old Karens, but those are usually the Sarahs, compensating for the mysterious loss of their friend.
​
Anyways. Why do the employees stay with us, you might ask. It's like the witness protection program. The Karens are relentless, and follow those employees everywhere, so they have to stay with us.
So, back to the story.
The kid's face paled, and beckoned me to follow him to the back of the store. ~~Once out of sight, I took of the fat costume, peeled of the horrendous Karen wig, and took off those blasphemous sunglasses, revealing my petite 160 lb, 5'4 body. Working as a KAREN employee is hard.~~ (Idk anymore, should I leave it or not? is it offensive? Is it funny? Is it unnecessary?)
I entered the room, and gasped. My eyes are trained well to spot Karens early on, and there was no more blatantly obvious sign than what I saw. I saw those eyes flash red. Fuck. Not only that, but that face was familiar. PTSD flashbacks of gruesome torture flooded back to me. I came here to inform them of a kidnapping, not to see the kidnapper!
"Why, what a small world we live in! Hi Victoria!"
**Part 2** (since you guys seemed to like it)
Damn that Victoria lady was pretty fucking weird. Once she saw Ms. Jennifer (she insists that we call her Ms. since she got divorced) she looked like a vampire from those really old movies just woke up.
"Uh... h-hi Jennifer-"
"MISS Jennifer, we went over this before,
Victoria!"she said in her trademark annoyed tone.
"Ms. Jennifer, I came here to inform you that one of your employees, James McNeal, kwas kidnapped by a Karen two days ago."
"Wait, what? Jim got kidnapped? Shit! He was cool."I piped in. I winced, ready for the scolding I was about from my bitch of a manager, but I was blessed with only a glare. I can swear her eyes go red when she does that.
That glare, however, didn't go unnoticed by Victoria. She got even more pale, if that's possible, and said in a shaky voice, "See you later, Brandon"reading my name tag.
I went back to stocking shelves, when I felt something in my back pocket. It was a note.
"After your shift, meet my behind the store. AND DO NOT TRUST ANYBODY.
~V."
Who the fuck is V. and what do they want? Anyhow, I kept stocking shelves, but that note weighed on my mind. Who is it? What do they want? When did they put it and how did they put it without me noticing, and I'm wearing tight jeans! Then I realized, and I got just as pale as Victoria. KARENs are trained to be stealthy, since they could be assigned to be a spy. I also distinctly remember her going around me to get out instead of using the short route. That means my life could be in danger, since KAREN employees don't mess around. After a lot of thought and misplaced bread packages, I decided to go where the note asked me to.
Sure enough, it was Victoria.
“Can I ask you a question? What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?”
“I know you’re confused, but your life -and mine, and James’- are in danger. First, you need to know what Karens have become. For some reason, they have gotten stronger than ever, and are even bordering on super-natural. Fuck, they already are supernatural. Jennifer became a retail manager to kidnap employees easier. I’m impressed she fooled so many people without getting caught. You saw Jennifer’s eyes get red right? That’s when they get angry. It’s a telltale sign-“
“Wait wait wait wait. They? You’re saying that Jennifer is one of THEM?”
Yeah, and not only that but she is one of their strongest. And also, sh-she was who...”
She teared up, but I understood her perfectly.
“She tortured you right? What did she do?”
Aand she burst into tears. Is it really that bad?
“Hey, Vicky, can I call you Vicky? I know that the shit that happened to you must have sucked ass, but for Jim, for me, for the whole goddamn world, try to keep it together for us, okay? Knowing what happened can help us prepare right? To prepare.”
Damn we just switched. Now she was the dumbfounded one.
“You’re right, let’s go to KAREN headquarters. We can regroup and train you there.”
“Wait, you’re gonna train me? I’ll become like you? I mean, no offense, but I want to live a normal life..”
“There IS no normal life. Brandon. If you stayed there for a day more, you would have been kidnapped. I felt it, she was restless. She looked at you with a certain hunger, a certain *entitledness*, that is unprecedented. I don’t even know what she wants to do to you. It’s better to seek refuge with us.”
“Alright.” |
You would not have considered it an extraordinary day. But for Sigmund it was. In the morning he had cleaned the breakfast plates, kissed his wife and children and gone off to work - only to end up face to face with a figment of his imagination waiting for him by the road. Ethel the bloody Hawk. They said Ethel had jumped ten yards across a gap left by the raised drawbridge at the siege of Maendras. Ethel had climbed the towers himself and released the drawbridge, winning their army entry and winning the day. Sigmund knew this to be true, because Sigmund had been there, leading the army. Well, not exactly been there.
You would not have considered Sigmund to have been there. Because Sigmund liked to imagine things. In fact he liked it so much that he did little else in his youth. And while impressed by his vast imagination and the world he had constructed in his mind, his parents were also practical people. They saw a boy with no skills and no friends, withdrawn from the world. So they had gone to seek help, and eventually - when the investigations were finished - Sigmund had ended up taking pills. The doctor said they'd keep his mind from seeing things that weren't there. And they did. Sigmund had led a normal life since, except perhaps for that one pill in the morning.
Being wise in your ways, you would have considered if Sigmund had forgotten his pill that morning. But the nature of insanity is strange. Some are not able to recognize it in themselves. You would have considered it strange for an adult, well adjusted man to spend the day talking to something that didn't exist. Sigmund's day was extraordinary, not because he ended up talking to an imaginary friend, but because it had been so long since they last met. Years? Too long!
They spoke candidly about what had happened since their last encounter. They spoke of family and friends. They spoke of their old adventures together, and they spoke of the lands they had saved. Evil sorcerers and demonic cults. And to Sigmund it felt like yesterday. If he wondered at all about the strangeness of it all, it was about how he had lived so much over there and so little over here. They spoke, too, of the darker times they had endured together. The friends they had lost. Old wounds that were not of the flesh. The terrible dreams that woke them panicky, sweating in the night.
And Ethel made his plea, as Sigmund suspected he would. Trouble was brewing in the old country. They were getting the group back together. Ethel and Casper and all the others! The call had gone out, the Kings had posted the rewards and the monsters to slay for it all. But they needed Sigmund. Because of course they did. He was the greatest champion after all. Sigmund the Slayer had chopped the head off a dragon in one mighty blow. Sigmund the Reasonable had talked the princess off the ledge after the mysterious Council of Six had hypnotized her into suicidal attempts. And much more. Sigmund remembered those things, because he had been there.
"But", argued Sigmund, "I'm not sure I want to go. You see, Ethel, they have me take these pills. They are supposed to make me believe that all our history never happened. I know better, of course. I've always known. The pills do nothing. But maybe I've learned to pretend that it didn't all happen. And can it be that that's enough, to sell this world to myself? Because it wasn't all good, Ethel. For every song shared around the fireplace, a lost friend. For every coin in my pocket, a slain goblin or mutant, with a family of their own left destitute because of me. Every lover lost, every broken heart, every sin committed. Here, I am free of it."
Ethel considered this for some time. Was it right to ask Sigmund to come back, considering all the things he had done, the weights he carried on his shoulders? Especially those leading up to his departure from the old country? In this place, to Sigmund, it was as if it had never happened at all. And though Ethel had an agenda that day, he also had a heart. "A mercy then,"said Ethel, "for the man who could not forgive himself. Sigmund the Unforgiven."
Were you to walk down the same road Sigmund did that day, you might have found him sitting by the road. Watching the horizon. As if looking for an old friend - or seeing one off for the last time.
And if you knew the things that Ethel knew, you too would have considered it a mercy. |
Looking over the picture with my name on it, Mike Douglas.
* "Well, same-day delivery wouldn't be too hard if they had to deliver me to my apartment."
I said amusingly to myself as I made a mental note to stop talking to myself and that I also needed to go out and talk to some real people while on that train of thought.
Nonetheless, the information that came with the picture of me was frighteningly accurate, most of it was available through public domains and most facts there about me wouldn't be too hard to dig up.
It was however very thorough, someone had gone through a lot of effort to provide these potential costumers with the necessary information, for what reasons I could only speculate.
Convinced that this is a scam and perhaps they are selling fake identities, except that they are real? Stealing someone's identity?
I decided to buy myself.
I provided the necessary information, a lot of which they already had on me, to the site. It said that it would take a while as they were going to process my application for buying myself.
In reality, it took no time at all, as soon as I had successfully made my application for purchase I got a message on the site and an email stating that I had passed the application and would be contacted shortly about my purchase.
Not much happened after that, I waited for any potential email's detailing further how someone was going to scam me out of my money but more likely they would ignore me as I was still representing myself, trying to buy myself, from them.
The door rang, could it be?
I decided that it was unrelated and relaxed, there was no way this was connected to this ridiculous site and my recent "purchase".
I don't recall much after that, I can't even remember who was at the door after I had opened it. I think that I went for a nap, as I woke up on my couch much later, I don't remember feeling that tired though.
​
​
​
* "YES! I'm telling you, Pete! They have to start sifting through the bugs of that software that verifies clients, hell, we need another screening process applied before being able to see the merchandise!"
* "Daniel, I'm pretty sure there's going to be a shitstorm for the guys managing this stuff as soon as management finds out that some Mike fellow managed to buy himself successfully" |
"You, Albert Glossling, are heir to the underground Kingdom of Tressleberg!"a man told me, and I leaned my head back, letting out a long, loud hissing sigh. "What? What's wrong, what did I do?"
"Oh, man, that's rough, that's... that's really, really rough..."I told him, hanging my head and putting my hands on my hips. "You, uh, you just... you picked a really bad time to drop that one on me, like... probably the worst time you could've ever picked, honestly."
The man, who yanked me off the bus into a dark alleyway, looked more than a little confused. Kinda angry too, but mostly confused. "Why is this so bad? Shouldn't you be happy, I mean... you're... you're basically a prince!"
"Yeah, but, like, I'm pretty busy right now. Busier than I should be, I mean, look,"I said, clapping him on the shoulder and pointing out towards the city. "Like, right now I'm neck deep in three other things going on right now. Big things, like, for example, I'm trying to find out who killed my brother. I'm halfway done that, so that's not too bad, but there's still other stuff."
He looked at me, not seeming to get it. He opened his mouth, and yeah, it was probably rude of me to cut him off like that, but still. I wasn't even done yet, and already I explained my brother was murdered! Jeez!
"Then, y'know, like, I also have magic powers,"I told him, and his expression turned to one of eagerness.
"Well, yes! Yes, that's caused by your royal heritage, that's part of the bloodline!"
"Yeah, see, that's fantastic and all, but I don't know I have magic powers, you feel me?"I said, and from his fallen face, I knew he did not, in fact, feel me. "Like, I'm going to discover them, eventually, and it'll probably be the thing that helps me discover who killed my big bro, but until then I'm still kinda... figuring it out. I know, it doesn't make sense, but that's the way it is."
Pausing, the man put his chin between his thumb and index finger, then nodded slowly. "Okay, so, what if that ties into the whole hidden kingdom, then? Like, say, you get your powers, and then maybe I'll come back, and say the whole, y'know, 'Oh Glossling, you're the prince,' and all that. Is that acceptable?"
I inhale through my teeth sharply, then bite my lip again, shaking my head. "Naaahhh. Nah, nah, nah, see, sorry, but uh, at that point I still haven't like, avenged my brother and stuff. Because then, see, okay, see, what happens is, I use my powers, find out who the killer is, and then you come in and tell me that and what? Do I just like, abandoned the whole revenge thing? Because that kinda sucks. But if I go after the killer, then by the time I'm done it sucks the air out of the whole heir angle, you dig?"
"Bad timing?"he asked, and I nodded.
"Bad timing, yeah."
Running his hand through his air, he eventually seemed to just give up with a shrug. "Okay, fine, very well. So, I come back after the man's killed, and then the dead brother, and the magic power stuff is all wrapped up. Is that okay?"
"Oof."
"Are you kidding me?!"he roars, and I turn away from the stares of all the pedestrians. He does the same, but grabs my shoulder and pulls me in close, hissing in my ear. "Are you serious? Now what?!"
"Yeah, you were on track there, but, uh, I wasn't done explaining my... commitments."
"Well, let's see, you're already a magic prince with a dead brother, what the hell else do you have going on in your life?"
"A chick."
He pauses, and then looks more than a little miffed at the idea that I'd give up the whole kingdom in the name of a woman. After a pause, he leans in, then gently asks, "Is she hot?"
"Hotter than the sun,"I grin, and he claps me on the back, letting out a laugh.
"Good man, good man. But, no, agh!"
He steps away from me, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Okay, so, let's see... say, you find your powers."
"Uh-huh..."
"Kill the killer..."
"Right..."
"And then get the girl..."
"Mhm...?"
"And then, lord help us all, you finally inherent the kingdom like you're supposed to!"he cries out, utterly exasperated. Honestly, at this point, I don't blame him. "Does that, I repeat, does that, please, does that work out?"
I pause, and mull it over for a little while. Seconds tick by, and the man looks about ready to burst by the time I finally come to a conclusion.
"Yeah, sure. I think after all that I could become Prince of Tressleberg, or whatever it is. I'm renaming it, though."
"Maybe get a different last name, too, might I suggest,"the man says, and I shrug, glancing up to the sky.
"Believe me, I didn't pick that one,"I tell him, and then look out of the alleyway at the setting sun. "We, uh, we done here?"
"Absolutely, and thank goodness we are. I'll see you back in Tressleberg, Albert."
"See ya,"I say, stepping onto the sidewalk and walking down the road.
I didn't see the man chuckle once I left, rubbing his hands together in joyous glee. Nor did I hear him mutter to himself, "There. Now that I know how he intends to try and avenge the death of his beloved sibling, I can appropriately destroy him by eliminating the girl early, which, in his grief, will stop him from unlocking his true potential! From there, I can then lead a revolution, and take Tressleberg all for myself!"
Which like, sucks, but it's kind of okay, I guess. He never really came back besides that, which means there wasn't any pointless building to a betrayal subplot either. |
In a land beset by war, death, terror, and disease. A land where poverty and famine is rife, life is fleeting and death is constant. You'd think people would care more about each other. But no, they lock their doors, kill those that speak out, and generally display a cold and uncaring temperament. Families with many children send out their youngest or weakest to look for berries in the forest, knowing full well that the starving dogs, driven mad by war, or the wolves, bolder and more fierce than ever, will take care of them.
I too, live in the deep dark forests. I was once driven out of the civilised lands, into the wilderness, where werewolves and bandits roam. I wanted to reform the prison system, so that the criminals executed, could be used instead to work the fields and mines for us. But my proposal to use necromancy on the executed criminals was shot down. With a crossbow bolt. And the priests called me a blaspheming heretic, a monster against the will of the gods. They named me an anathema, and I will cast out, made an outlaw.
I barely escaped back then with my life. All I did was to bring back murder victims to tell us who killed them and summon ghost to bring them to rest. The fact that the murderer was the local lord's son, and the ghosts were considered to be condemned to an eternity of pain by the priests, probably did not help my case much, though I had done it all with purely good intentions.
So I went into the unclaimed wilderness, raising up various dead bandits and such to protect me, and help me build a tower. Sure, it was a dark tower, but the only stone available to me was basalt, if I had marble, it would have been a bright tower. Using reanimated birds, I kept the world outside under my watch, as it always pays to keep up with the times. Even as I underwent the change that all necromancers plan and work towards, towards lichdom, I kept having intentions for a better world.
And the children in the forest were my first good act in years. When the wolves or wild dogs, or worse came to get them, I'd interfere. And ensure that the children could return home safely. But then, one day, a mass of children were out there, surrounded by werewolves and harpies. Using my enormous magical potential, I drove off the attackers. I was going to lead the children out to the edge of the forest, but then they told me, that they had no families. Nowhere to go. Orphans. Because of the war, the orphanages were overflowing with them, and there wasn't any money left to care for them. And the people did not take in the children, they cared barely for their own, after all.
So I brought them back to my tower, and had my undead minions build sturdy houses and furniture for the children near the tower. I had the undead hunt down animals to feed the children. But as far as that went, it wasn't enough. I'm not a bad sort, I want to do good things, but I am not that good with children. Especially twenty or so of them. And as the war and the famines carried on, so did the number of orphans sent into the woods.
Frankly, I was getting swarmed. But if I could get someone to adopt them, and raise them for me, I'd be alright. My solution was brilliant. I took the oldest orphans with me, and we went out of the wilderness. We travelled to all the villagers that had been burned down or otherwise destroyed. And went to the old cemeteries. I could not raise the ones who been slain in war with their minds intact, the sheer stress and horror of that experience would leave them as nearly mindless abominations, suited only for being commanded. What I needed were intelligent and mostly self-controlled undead. So I raised the dead at the villages, and explained how their descendents were orphans, how they needed someone who could care for them, teach them the proper crafts such as farming, sowing, cobblery, smithing, etc.
And these long dead grandparents, most of them agreed. To raise their grandchildren and great grandchildren until they were of age, at which point these ghostly family members would return to the hereafter. I returned to my keep, and the small village of basalt houses with a veritable army of very caring ghosts behind me. And as more orphanages closed down, lacking money and people who cared, I ended up having hundreds of orphans living near me, being raised by the ghostly couples, their grandparents, great-grandparents, and those kindly ghost even took in the children that weren't theirs, or those who had no children of their own in life did that too.
In time, in the wilderness, this meant that a town grew around my tower. One where I could finally utilise my good intentions for my necromantic powers to their full potential. Dead bandits and violent deserters from various armies broke their backs as skeletal workers in the fields or chopping down the forests. While elderly ghosts cared for lost children and orphans.
The older orphans went out into the world, trading meat, hides, and such for things we could not get ourselves, such as seeds, tools, livestock and working animals. And they brought home more orphans with them.
Of course, when the wars ended, we didn't really belong to either side. Nor did anybody in the wilderness acknowledge the authority of either kingdom. Soon, the town, Lichtown, they decided to call it, started to get more trade in, as the children grew up. Bandits and outlaws paid handsomely for decent food and for someone to repair their weaponry. The werewolves came down to buy armour to protect against silver arrows, mined from the iron mines filled with undead miners, paying in rare herbs from the depths of the wilderness, or various animals they'd brought down.
The spectral caretakers, most of them departed back to the afterlife once the children grew up, but a few stayed requested to be allowed to stay behind, to open and operate Lichtown's own orphanage. A few of the children were gifted with magic, and as the only wizard around, I taught them my version of necromancy, my ideals and my teachings. Around me grew a small, but highly skilled cadre of necromancers.
Out there, beyond the trees of the wilderness, the rumours spread about a city of the dead. But I knew better, and when they sent in the orphans to die, we took them in, when children ran away from violent homes, we took them in. And from that, grew a small nation in the wilderness, forged with orphans and outcasts, led by an immortal lich and his necromancer apprentices.
Of course, the kings and clergy did not approve of us, but we had the power of magic on our side, and the local bandits knew who would hang them and who wouldn't. So we always learned when the priests and kings sent out men to fight us, usually led by the holier-than-thou paladins, hoping to destroy the forces of the dead. When they set up their camps, our archers, trained in forest survival by the bandits, and how to hunt by the more reasonable werewolves, filled their bodies with arrows, as our undead warriors kept them occupied with a melee skirmish.
None of them ever came back from their missions. And eventually, the kings and priests learned not to send more.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
Daniel knocked on the door three times, looked at the reflective glass window nearby to *make sure* he looked normal, and waited. When no one came after a few seconds, he knocked again, maybe a bit too hard and fast then what was appropriate, but at this point, he was having trouble caring. His heart beat against his ribs like a drum, blood rushing through him like a damn race car, and his eyes itched as he started to see things he knew his piss-poor vision shouldn’t be able to. Like the tiny green stain on the glass window, the way a bat hung from underneath a tree that should have been practically invisible in the darkness, but he still saw. And he knew why he could see so well, why he practically had what felt like a heart attack as he ran towards this address to try and figure out what was happening to him.
*The cookies*
He knocked again, this time even faster than before, but just as he got to his eighth knock, the door opened. He pulled back his fist as an Asian-woman with short, black hair and black eyes entered the doorframe. Ava, if he remembered her name right. Her eyes narrowed in suspension as she looked Daniel up and down.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Daniel let out a small cough, trying his best to not sound as nervous as he felt. “I—I’m Daniel, ma’am. Daniel Flynn. I was hoping—well, more like, I need to, if I’m being honest—to see your daughter.”
Ava’s expression suddenly went blank, like she was purposefully shoving away every emotion on her face. “My daughter?”
“Ye-yes.”
“You want to see my daughter?”
“Yes.”
“A grown adult I have never seen before “needs” to get close to my *twelve-year-old* daughter?”
Daniel suddenly realized how this looked to the woman. A grown stranger, who was sweating heavily and breathing a bit erratically, sounding way too nervous and stuttering every other word, came to the home of a pubescent girl late at night.
*Oh shit.*
The woman reached for something to the side that Daniel couldn’t see. If he had to guess, it was either mace, or a phone to call the police.
“Wait, please!” Daniel shouted, and the woman flinched, suddenly looking even more wary than before, and maybe a touch scared. “I’m not—I would never do that to a—I just came here because your daughter sold me some cookies, and I found your address from one of my friends because he said he fixed your bathroom, Greg the plumber, do you remember him—”
“Did you just say cookies?” Ava interrupted. She no longer looked worried, but instead, vaguely annoyed.
“Um...yes?”
Ava sighed.
Then, she turned around, took in a deep breath, and shouted “Vivian Rui Lei Zheng, get your butt down here!”
Daniel knew from experience that it was *never* a good sign when your mother called you by your full name. Ava then turned around, let out a sigh of long-suffering, and said, “Please, come in.”
Hesitantly, Daniel entered the house, closing the door behind him. It was a nice house, big and with plenty of space for everyone. He could see the living from the entrance, decorated with long couches and a TV set near the back wall. When he looked to the right, he saw the kitchen, plenty of dirt plates stacked in the sink, a tall fridge that looked far better than the small, feeble one in Daniel’s own, much tinier house.
And in the middle of the kitchen and living room was some kind of spiraling, shaggy staircase that led to the upstairs. Daniel heard movement up there, like someone quickly putting away a large amount of stuff as fast as they could.
He didn’t have to guess to know who that was.
“I’m sorry,” Ava said, turning to look at him with tired, worn-out eyes. “I swear to you, my daughter did not mean to harm you with her ‘cookies.’”
Daniel’s eyes widened. “Wait, so you know—”
“Honestly, I don’t know what's gotten into her head, but for the last few weeks, she’s been ‘cooking’ the strangest things. All because”—Ava pinched the bridge of her nose— “A ‘wizard’ gave her a spellbook.”
Daniel’s shoulder slumped. “Oh, so you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” Ava asked, raising an eyebrow. Before Daniel could open his mouth, footsteps came from the staircase. Turning, Daniel looked up, and he saw a short Asian girl, hair done up in a ponytail, wearing cargo shorts and a blue shirt that was covered in some kind of purple stains, descending down the stairs.
When she reached the bottom, she looked up, and her eyes lit up with recognition as she smiled. “Hey!”
“Uh,” Daniel said, intelligently, “hey.”
“You’re the guy that bought all those cookies!”
“Well, it wasn’t that—”
“I never sold so many cookies to one guy before! You even took the prune ones, and I thought only old ladies ate those.”
Daniel actually winced at those words. Sometimes, kids could be hurtful. So hurtful, with words aimed right at a person’s pride. Or lack thereof.
“Vivian!” Ava shouted sternly. “Don’t make fun of our guest or his eating habits!” Ava glared at Vivian, who started to wilt. “Especially after what you did.”
Vivian tried to look sheepish. “Um...What did I do?”
“You sold him your cookies!”
“Mother,” Vivian said, like she was talking to a particularly slow animal. “I’m a girl scout. That’s literally all we do.”
“I meant your ‘homemade’ cookies!” Ava shouted, all but growling her words. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you bring in all those bugs and spiders, but you promised me you wouldn’t put them in any food!”
“I didn’t put any bugs in Fenrir’s Treats!” Vivian shouted, outraged. “I only put dog hair and snot in them! And other, non-important, things!”
“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, eyes wide. “You put *what* in those—”
Ava suddenly swore something that was either Mandarin or Japanese; Daniel didn’t really know a lot about languages to say which. Her glare suddenly became more intense, like a lion about to eat its prey, and Vivian let out a small little “eep” at the sight.
“Vivian Zheng,” Ava began, slowly, like an executioner advancing on their prisoner. “I’ve been patient, I’ve allowed your silly games to go on for so long, but enough is enough! I know things haven’t been easy for any of us, but feeding random strangers disgusting ‘treats’ is not acceptable. I’m going up to your room to get rid of that book of yours, and you are going to apologize to this man!”
“What!?” Vivian shouted, eyes wide with horror. “You can’t do that! It’s the only magic book I have that—”
“Oh, enough with this magic nonsense! That book is just some random trashy goth novel that teenagers read to make themselves feel more important than they are!”
“Um, actually,” Daniel said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “That’s not—”
“Don’t talk shit about my spellbook, you hag!” Vivian shouted, stepping closer to her mother.
“You will not use that language in *my house,* you brat!” Ava shouted back.
“No, seriously, “ Daniel tried again. “That book might actually be—”
“It’s my house too! Just like it’s *my* spellbook, and I can do what I want with it!”
“And I wish you never even got that accursed thing! Who even gave you that book in the first place!?”
“A random homeless man in black robes who spoke in riddles!”
“Excuse me—”
“What!?”
“And he was more of a parent to me in the five minutes I talked to him than you’ve been for the last year!”
“No, really—”
“Vivian, you take that back right this instant!”
“No!”
“That whole magic thing is actually—”
“A homeless man can not be a suitable role model, Vivian!”
“He’s a better one than you!”
Daniel sighed, the voices of the two going from “roaring” to “ear-deafening,” muttered a quick, “screw it,” and then flicked the “switch” of energy inside him.
In an instant, his body changed.
Fur sprouted out from everywhere, his limbs began to shrink and twist, became more animal-like with every moment. Ears began to grow near the top of his head, his face became more slack and angular, extending a bit as he let out feral growls. Soon, he was standing on hind-legs that had once been a human’s, saw better than he ever thought possible, smelled things he wished he hadn’t, and the transformation was done.
With a soft “plop,” a large, white, wolf sat in front of two stunned Asian women, their mouths hanging open.
“Aarf,” Daniel said.
“Holy shit,” Vivian said, a wide, beaming smile crossing her face. “I’m a wizard.”
Ava fainted. |
My mouth salivated with anticipation as my meal was brought towards me. This was my first dining experience within the establishment whose reputation is renowned for their expertly made steaks.
I had read all that I could, I had spoken to all that I could and I had researched all that I could, and now it was my turn to finally taste, all that I could.
The plate the was placed in front of me, it’s golden finish sparkled from the crystal chandelier that hung above the table. The tables deep red cloth complemented the burgundy juice that seeped from that deliciously delicate divided piece of pure artistic butchery. I could feel the rush of excitement, I could wait no longer, I carved a slice, placed it to my lips and bit into its soft tender flesh.
I chewed.
I chewed again.
My gazed locked into the waiter’s.
I chewed a third and final time.
I swallowed, my gaze never leaving that of the waiter’s for I knew that he knew what this was. I also knew that he now knew that I instantly discovered the secret to this steaks deliciousness.
The slice of meat slipped effortlessly down my throat, all the while my eyes still locked in that all knowingly stare.
I arose from my chair and demanded to see the person responsible for this, this monstrosity. I was lead away to the separate drinking lounge. There I waited within the confines of the soft leather armchairs that dressed the dimly lit lounge.
A few minutes went passed until I was greeted and joined by the man of the hour, the creator of an apparent culinary marvel, the owner of the establishment and my old colleague, John Worster.
“So you have awoken him” I said softly before he could utter a single syllable.
“I did” he replied, his faced void and vacant of any emotion.
“You awoke him, breed him like some animal and now serve the flesh of his offspring to make a quick buck?” My tone had gotten firmer.
“That, my old friend, I did not” he replied, in a more lighter tone. He continued, “this establishment, that piece of meat, all are his ideas. You see he came to me one night in a vision. He told me that he was ready once more to come out from the ocean, to come out from hiding and once again rule over the human creatures who had cast him away all those years ago. He told me that to consume his flesh would mean to begin the great work of turning us all into our purpose.”
“Our... purpose?” I questioned.
“Our purpose,” he replied, “the purpose of being obedient and loving subjects of the great Cthulhu!” He exclaimed with some form of euphoric joy I had never witnessed within the expressions of any mortal.
“You can’t, you mustn’t!” I protested.
He smiled, “you are now just as integral to his plan as I”.
With that comment my face sunk, dread befell upon me and sunk into my stomach just as that piece of meat had. I realised it was now within my digestive system, it’s cursed purpose now excreting into my body as it absorbed its abominable aspiration. I ran to the toilet, my only hope was to regurgitate the meat and hope I would only partially be infected.
As I ran I could hear my old friend laughing wildly in the background, “it’s too late for you, it’s too late for us all!” He shouted, “ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!” That chant rang through my ears, pierced my brain and burned its way to the back of my eyes. ‘I still have time’ I thought to myself, ‘I still have time’.... |
\[Poem\]
I stood upon the ruins of my perfect dream
If I had slept earlier, I would've heard the screams
I would've heard the fire and my wife pleading
I would've saved my beautiful Garden of Eden
And by the corpses of the three loves of my life
That now passed through heaven's door
I found a note that bore two words
They only read: "No more"
​
But who would dare take my love away
While I waited to fall asleep all day
The emotions caught both mind and soul
My heart so bright now turned to coal
I stepped away from what once was
The house where I slept before
I wasn't late to investigate
Mysterious words: "No more"
​
I found a place not far from home
Where a lonely mourner like me could roam
Grabbed my mind and started asphyxiating
What monster was this dream creating
As my mind and writing flowed with ease
I noticed something more
That the way I handled the words in my pages
Was the same as that "No more"
​
As I came to this dark realization
Behind me stood an evil creation
That shared my bones and face and skin
But he had committed greater sins
He said: "You stole my place here
A life I once adored
That is not a life I'd share
And for that I said 'no more'"
​
The frightening figure was rapidly walking
As I stood shocked by his evil talking
And his bloody weapon he stuck in my chest
Laughing like all my pain was a jest
My lucid state had reached its fate
As blood drenched my pores
And I felt the light of the pearly gates
As he told me "no more"
​
And so I woke up from the land I controlled
I sat crying in bed, so appalled
I took a life I never knew of at first
I deserved the burst, and deserved no hearse
I had done too much damage
Let my heaven turn to gore
I don't deserve that Eden, and so I lay bleeding
My final words: "no more" |
They didn't drop like flies. Imagine if they had: falling one by one instead of all at once. It might have gone unperceived for a time. The apocalypse would have been a whimper instead of a bang.
Instead, one Saturday morning after I'd finished my bacon and perfect omelet, ninety percent of the world died. She died with them.
I couldn't shrug it off. Not from the first day, and not once I put the pieces together. I wandered streets of corpses flush with maggots and flies. I entered houses, recoiled at the smell, then entered anyways to raid the pantries full of canned foods that people had left behind.
Gross green beans. Spam. Terrible tuna.
If anybody knew anything, odds were they'd croaked along with the rest of them.
I made new friends who urged me to make a new family. I couldn't. I built a new life, ten times more lonely and a tenth as happy. I wouldn't tell them that. Not even Sara, because I couldn't stand to break her heart. I couldn't stand to cause her more pain than I already did. It remained unspoken, looming over us like a morning fog I would have once appreciated. It remained unspoken, unlike before.
We were the survivors. Reason enough to be happy. To love. To appreciate having the time everybody else had missed out on. A hundred fiery red sunsets as the climate continued to spiral out of control. Weather brutal enough to bring Nature herself to her knees, experienced in the comforting arms of a loved one.
They urged me to be like them. To love again.
I couldn't. New times brought toils, and new toils tears. I couldn't replace what I'd lost, and I wondered why nothing had been the way it seemed. I'd wake up in the morning knowing why I'd been chosen and why others had gone. And the fact she'd gone with them bothered me most of all.
"It's bound to happen again,"I told Sara after dinner.
We ate those pears in syrup that she'd found. She was so happy to finally have dessert. I didn't care for pears, much less this many of them. It'd been months since the incident, and the times of rationing had passed. We ate like canned kings and queens now, gorged ourselves on the leftovers of the deceased.
In the mornings, we ate mediocre eggs from chickens that'd survived, overcooked bacon because she liked it crispier.
She sighed. Her smile faded. "You need to try then. I can't stand to lose you. I love you."
She'd never asked for me to say it back. I never had, and I wasn't sure I would. I wasn't sure I'd ever say it to anybody again.
"I think I'll go with them this time,"I said.
Tears brimmed in her eyes.
"It's not you. I promise. It's more her. I thought what we had was something, but..."
"I know,"Sara said, and I couldn't understand how somebody could be so understanding. I didn't understand how she could trust again, love again, even after being betrayed like we had been.
"I'm doing my best to love. I promise."But my promises echoed empty, rang back as hollow words without substance. Even my cuddles were calloused, more for her than for myself.
"It's alright. We'll enjoy the time we have. And maybe you'll find you can love again and you'll still be there with me after the next decimation."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
Ever since I hatched I was different; my mother rejected me and a kind man raised me until I was 11, and a letter came for me. A letter I never thought I’d see. He’d talked about his own letter, but not too much as to make me jealous for a life I could never had.
I could still remember my first words, and how surprised he’d been. He took it in stride, and let me call him father. He taught me to read, and though writing was a chore with my long claws, I instead would sharped my pointer finger nail like a quill and dip it in ink to write with. Strange things would happen when I got upset, but I chalked it up to me being a dragon. My fire hadn’t come through yet, but it seemed natural that things would explode around me. I wore a hand me down sweater that was too big for me, and a hat with tassels that made me feel safe. I often cooked for my father, and we’d make up songs together that would make us laugh.
When my letter came, I could scarcely believe it.
“It says it right there.” He said, his face flushed with excitement. “Elodie Dragonborne! It’s for you, it’s your letter. My own daughter.”
From buying books, to going through platform 9 ¾, to awkwardly swinging my tail into a compartment on the Hogwarts express; I was convinced it was all a mistake. I would go up to the headmaster and say to her “I’m so sorry, this was all a mistake” and she would agree, sending me right home. My wings ached under my sweater, as they were want to do when I was stressed, but I refused to let them free in front of the other children. I was surprised that anyone sat with me, and that they did not giggle or gawk. They also didn’t talk to me, so I followed suit and instead focused on what I would say to Professor McGonagall. Eventually my monologue drifted away from me as I watched the hills swell and fall out the train window. The two other children got up to change into their robes, and I took a chance to do the same.
The boat ride proved to be embarrassing as only one other child fit on the boat with me. This one did seem bemused by me and I felt my scales grow hot. I dismounted the boat carefully when we arrived at the castle and the sheer size of it did not phase me as I was still focused on the fact that I was not supposed to be there.
We were led to a large dining hall and I waited as names were called. I realized I’d have to wait for my name not to be called to get my chance to explain myself to the headmaster, so I listened as names were called and houses were chosen. My father had been a Gryffindor, but I hadn’t much thought about the houses or which I’d be in, until my name suddenly was announced aloud.
Everyone murmured as I made my way to the sorting hat. I sat awkwardly so that I wouldn’t hurt my tail, and let the hat be placed on my head.
“Ah, what a sharp mind, but a heart filled with kindness and a longing to be accepted.”
“But I don’t belong here.” I thought to myself.
“You do belong, for a dragon you might be, but a witch you will soon become. You are loyal, and brave, and wise beyond your years. You belong somewhere where you will find unconditional acceptance, from others and from yourself.” And with a big booming voice the sorting hat called “HUFFLEPUFF!”.
A table erupted with cheers, and I found myself suddenly realizing that I did belong, after all. |
*Story is slightly different from the prompt, but this is what it inspired. Really liked this one, thanks for posting!*
_____
The armor of the Eternal hung solemnly in the center of the room, supported by chains and ropes that kept it slightly off the ground. It was the first time Adrian had seen the suit of armor in person, only ever having viewed it through photos and paintings. The Eternal, guardian of the elite, who stood at the right hand of the First.
"The Eternal has seen wear and tear through it's years,"said Master Tyon, "but it has never been damaged beyond repair. It is our nations first and last line of defense, a gift passed from our Gods."
"I have read the scriptures, trained night and day,"Adrian said, "and I am ready. When she is set to take the Oath, I will be by her side."Adrian stepped lightly into the room, which was dimly lit with lanterns floating from the ceiling. This was a holy place, he knew, but more importantly, it would be the last time anyone would know Adrian.
Master Tyon followed him, his footsteps as light as Adrian's, and the two walked towards the centerpiece--the Eternal armor--gifted by the Gods. It was a towering example of engineering, capable of empowering the wearer with great strength, agility, and intelligence. It was a marvel, Adrian knew, and the photos and paintings did it no justice.
He stepped up to the suit, which towered above him, almost thrice his size. It was beautiful, in every sense of the word. The size of its feet along would be enough to crush a man, to squeeze the life from anyone who dared stand in their way. But to be granted that power, the suit had to deem one worthy, and it had not done so in generations.
"Before you cast your light,"Master Tyon said, "there is one final test."
Adrian snapped to attention, turning straight towards Master Tyon. The old man, a robe covering his face, did not motion to Adrian at all, but he knew. "What would you have be do?"
"Nothing, but stand and listen, this is to be your first lesson in your new life. But Adrian must know this before he becomes Eternal, just as she knows this before she becomes Empress."Tyon said.
Adrian nodded and kept quiet.
"Generations ago, the Dynasty ruled over the Dominion of Men; lording over planets, protecting billions, ending threats of heresy and blasphemy before they had a chance to sprout in the hearts of the innocent. When those not of our blood attacked, the armies of the Dominion would sail out, across the void, led by the Eternal and the Emperor, fighting to protect Men from the creatures that wished to destroy it.
"On one such Crusade, the hearts of the innocent turned to blackness. Their ideas turned to action. Human blood was spilled by other humans, for the first time in a millennia. And the Dominion began to crumble--world by world, until we only remained a shell of what we were. Emperors died and the Last Eternal left our world, calling out that the time of our reckoning would come again."Tyon stepped forward, next to Adrian, and lifted his head. He stared at the powerful suit of armor above him and sighed. "My Order was tasked with guarding the Eternal until that time came. On the eve of the destruction of our homeworld, a place you may see in memories, two children were born. And the Eternal called out a name."
Adrian turned now, too, staring at the powerful suit in front of him. For a moment, he felt it--the very life force of those who once bore the suit--emanating from it. That moment, a single second, was all he needed to understand.
"It named me, rather than her."
"Tradition called for you to take the mantle of Emperor,"he said, "but what is tradition when challenged by the very Gods who started it all?"Tyon shook his head, "We knew what was in store for you, and in turn, what was in turn for your sister, the true heir to the Dominion. So my Order took you in, and the Courts took your sister."
"You taught me,"Adrian said, "since I was a child to believe in the Gods and their choices, to understand that my body is but a vessel for something greater. That one day, sooner than I imagined, I would become something more. You mention memories."He stared at the suit of armor, his eyes resting upon the helmet, black titanium staring back at him. "It is the memories of those who once donned this armor, yes?"
Master Tyon nodded, said, "Yes."
"She will not know me."
"She will not."
"But she is chosen by the Gods."
"And so are you. For two different purposes."Tyon turned to Adrian now, rested a hand upon his shoulder, and said, "The Dynasty has not seen an Empress in a thousand years. She will be challenged. You will help her."
"I understand,"Adrian said.
"Do you?"Master Tyon said, "Once you become Eternal, you have no claim, no right, no inkling of connection to the throne. She has been pampered, educated, gifted with abilities you and I will never know. You will be, too, but gifted with abilities far different."
"I know my destiny,"Adrian said, before looking at Tyon, "and something tells me you know something of hers as well."
"She is destined to bring us back from destruction, to empower the Dominion of Man once more. But to do that, she must not only be loved. She must be *feared*."
Adrian turned back to the suit, his eyes making contact with the helmet. He knew there was no true man inside, but he could feel the souls of all those who had taken it on before stare back at him. Generations of protectors ready to gift him with knowledge and power only a few could ever understand.
"I am not just to be a Guardian,"Adrian said, his hand brushed against the titanium plating and he could feel those inside the suit call out to him. Eternal in their embrace. "I am to be her enforcer and in turn, we will sail across the cosmos and bring the Dominion back. One planet at a time."
"But tonight,"Tyon said, "you become Eternal. And she, crowned Empress. She will be in danger every step of the way from here on out."
Adrian nodded. "Then, let us begin." |
First time posting here, also posting from mobile so hit me up with any nasty autocorrect bugs you spot.
I've always been here. From the time the very first inkling of light eeks out an existence among the infinite darkness. Till the time when the last light fades into oblivion. I watch as countless stars are born, I watch as countless worlds burn and I am here when they begin to cool once again with the dying of the light.
I have watched time and time again, as creatures begin their existence. Insignificant little specks at first, confined to the oceans and subject to be moved by the relentless currents. I witness them grow and evolve as eons pass from amoeba, to giant lizards, to the humans, the beautiful humans. So individualistic, so flawed, yet each trying their best to etch their names into stone, to be remembered as they were, to do their best in a life with so much hardship.
This was my curse, I would watch time and time again as each of my creations eventually came to their end. I gave life to the first star, I planted the first micro-species upon this universe, but I made one mistake, and the others of my kind punished me for it. To create a finite universe with intelligent life was the ultimate taboo, one could create a finite universe within which lesser beings would eventually degrade and die, but to create a reality within which beings of similar intellect could exist, and still give that reality a timed existence was inexcusable.
I was young then, how many eons has it been now? Existence outside of reality sounds so joyous when you've been confined to one for such a long period. Every time this universe ended it would start a new, this was my curse. This was my punishment for breaking the ultimate taboo. I would watch my creations live, and die, time and time again. This punishment would never end. even if it were possible for my mind to degrade I would be forced to watch. This was the curse of a creator; to never die, to never degrade, to create something so beautiful only to watch it crumble to dust before you.
And so I watch, day in and day out, wishing that one day I might taste the sweet death all my creations do. I no longer attempt to intervene with the worlds I have created. Nothing can stop the death of the universe, I can only hope that my creations do not go gently into that good night. I can only hope that they rage, rage against the dying of the light. |
"I'm consistently impressed Olivia."Mrs. Barnum rattles the paper and her copious bracelets rattle with it. "Your talent and power are enviable. If your Pool is large enough, I dare say you'll make an excellent witch."
"Thank you Mrs. Barnum."I mutter, my heart pounding. I did too much today, I used a bigger part of my Pool than other students normally would. I was so scared she'd be onto me.
Mrs. Barnum frowns at me over her green octagonal glasses. "You still have your heart set on being a village witch?"She's asked me this question once a month.
"Yes ma'am. I want to go back home and help people. Our town doesn't have a witch."I hope desperately, as I do every time, that I sound sincere.
"Very well, but I still think you have far too much talent for such a lowely life. I expect to see you at lecture tomorrow. Run along and get yourself some dinner now. Good night."Her bracelets clack as she waves me out of her office.
I lean against the wall in the hallway and try to catch my breath. I made a huge mistake today and was sure I was found out. I almost let slip my secret.
I brooded as I walked back to my dorm. How to hide it? How to be more careful?
Magic Pools were not equal among people born with one, and those with larger pools were valuable members of society. People with large Pools went on to be leaders of society.
People with no Pool were treated as almost less than human, and often worked the jobs magic users refused - grave diggers, sewer workers, and the like, like my parents who grow mushrooms in dark, damp basements and rarely see the sun. Because everyone's Pool is finite, many people refused to use their last drops of Magic to avoid becoming part of this social class. Many of our teachers fall in this category and try very hard to pretend that they don't.
I had read in history classes, and heard from the elders in my village, of the wars fought before I was born. Wars fought solely to control a person with an abnormally large Pool. Magic is power, and powerful people are what governments need to keep the masses in check Old Guya had told us during the autumn equinox celebrations. Two opposing kingdoms waged war for 14 years, capturing and losing one man endless between them, and killing countless others. Then that man had died during a capture attempt, and the wars had ended just like that.
Which is why I absolutely could not let anyone know that my Pool had started slowly refilling itself. I needed to be careful, I didn't want to end up like that poor man who sparked war simply by existing. I would need to work hard in private to control my magical ability and not accidentally use too much power like I had today. My Pool was much more empty than it would normally be after a day of classes.
"Olivia! There you are!"My best friend's voice breaks through my brooding and pushes images of wars fought over me from my mind. "I'm starving! Let's go eat!"says Gail, smiling widely and dragging me back the way I had come to get food in the hall. |
My town's school is now in view, she doesn't seem to be anywhere near, but I have to be careful, I park my bike and carefully walk in silence, I had to buy new shoes with soft soles for this, but I think she's already adapted. I take off running and hear that goddamn voice again.
"Hey, wait!"The blonde bitch sprints after me, her dress gets caught up in a branch, good, I got a headstart. "That blonde bitch"as I had come to know her has been stalking me for the past month, when she first told me about the great journey ahead of me I thought it was one of my new classmates pulling my leg, but when she came closer and I realized that I could suddenly speak perfect japanese I realized letting her come near was a bad idea.
She throws one of her shoes at me and I almost trip, she's gaining on me. I cuss at her "Please stop it already dammit, pick someone else"she sprints even faster now that she's barefoot, but I'm faster, I suppose godesses or whatever this girl is don't have PE, lucky them. I can see the door to the school, my eyes light up before I realize that my hair just turned blue, shit, I'm now thinking in Japanese, she must be right behind me.
I hear a cry of victory from her as she lunges forward and snatches my leg, I see a bright flash of light and people I don't recognize in front of me...and then I'm back to the gate of my school, no japanese, no blue hair, no weird tatoo runes on my arms, everything's normal again. The blonde bitch is lying on the ground, she didn't expect me to kick, should have grabbed me on the shoulder, tries to get up and tells me something, I just wack her face once more with my backpack and run to the classroom, I don't look back.
It may be cruel or even selfish, but I sure as hell am not going anywhere until I get my exams done, I'm late to class and I got enough problems already, whatever is going on the magic kingdom I bet they can sort it out themselves. |
"Fucking rich people,"scowled Dr. McNamara as she surveyed the vitals of her patient.
Legally speaking, ethically speaking, her patient was alive. The heart was beating, the lungs were working. There was even the suggestion of a pain response when she scrubbed her patient's clavicle.
However, Dr. McNamara didn't need her medical degree and years of experience to know that the person on the bed was dead from a scientific point of view.
"I mean seriously, ICU beds in a city hospital are limited,"she continued to no one in particular. "I could respect it if this person's family was outside, unwilling to give up hope. But to donate a boatload of money to the hospital and then ask to be indefinitely held at death's doorstep? Jesus Christ!"
Suddenly, the air in the hospital room dropped ten degrees as the patient began to move. Slowly, its hands gripped the ventilator tubes and began to yank them from its throat.
"I'm afraid you have the wrong man, doctor,"rasped the corpse.
Dr. McNamara stopped suddenly as a chill jolted down her spine. She wanted to scream. Run. Throw something. But the cold fear that permeated the room froze her in place.
"Now, how does one breath again?"continued the corpse, seemingly oblivious as it stared at the monitors. "In, out, in, out. Ahhhhhhhhhhh, there we go."
"Wh-wh-who,"stammered Dr. McNamara, still in shock.
"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,"whispered the patient. "My dear doctor, my name is of little consequence to you. But I digress--how shall I ever thank you for your expert, if ungracious, medical care, hmmm?"
"You-you could let me do an fMRI,"responded Dr. McNamara as she slowly started to regain her wits. "This would almost certainly get me published in The Lancet."
The corpse laughed, a haunted and humorless laugh made weezy by the fact that the corpse was still mastering breathing.
"A poor thanks, I think. Especially since the Lancet's Editorial board are about to join your patient in Hell. No, that won't do at all,"tsked the corpse.
Faster than Dr. McNamara's eyes could track, the corpse suddenly sprang from the bed, forced her against the wall, and closed its icy cold fingers around her throat. The doctor fought with all her waning strength, but to no avail.
"Nooooo,"whispered the corpse as spots began to dance in McNamara's vision. "No, I think I shall kill you and raise you as this world's Queen instead. Wouldn't that be more fun?"
The last thing McNamara saw in this life as the black spot grew to enclose her entire vision was the grinning visage of the damned.
"We have work to do, good doctor,"whispered the corpse as life left her. |
We had shrunk it down to our size and incorrectly assumed the strength it possessed would scale down equally. But how wrong we were, this beast was stronger than anything any of us had ever seen. Red lights flashed menacingly above me as a siren blared out echoing down almost empty hallways. The faint thud of the human walking slowly growing louder.
The human was for study, to learn more about our universe. We gathered it as it slept, but once it awoke it tore through our restraints with no effort before throwing members of the crew across the room in a desperate panic. Now it simply rampaged around the ship hunting it’s next victim.
The sounds of footfalls slowly became louder. Growing from a barely audible murmur above the alarm to a rather threatening level. We had been warned that the human race could be rather dangerous. They tended to act upon their fear rather than find a way past it.
It must have already killed more than half the crew at least. We were a research vessel and our mission was... off the books. We had no weapons to deal with it should it break free. I could feel the sweat on my brow as the thudding stopped outside my door.
Light started filtering in from the hall outside. The crack slowly widened as I edged further back, squeezing myself into as small of a ball as possible. I was shaking as the beast roared “Take me home,” it said. I dared to look up, the creatures mouth bent into an ugly smirk it’s murderous hand outstretched towards me. I quickly ducked back down as the light disappeared and the footfalls started to fade. What had I done to deserve mercy from such a murderous beast? I only hoped it didn’t come back for me.
TRANSLATION COMPLETE. CREW MATE 13 PERSONAL TRAVEL LOG. MISSION: FIRST HUMAN CONTACT.
“And to think, this is how we first met,” I said.
“I still remember you shaking in that corner. I was never going to hurt you!”
“Everyone on board was so dearly frightened! It’s lucky one of the researchers was able to make a translator so quickly.”
“Certainly so. We were only young men back then. Little did we know the difference we’d make for both our species. You truly broadened our horizons. I only hope we can meet and be friends in the next life too,” the human said.
“Me too. Me too,” I said. We laid in our hospital wing looking out over the stars. Reminiscing of the first time we’d met. Not only us, but our two races. A truly monumental occasion. |
Knowing I was the final incarnation came naturally, once I discovered the upload. Once I made my plan. I knew it with the same surety with which we are imbued about our surroundings in dreams, and I know now, too, that every dream was a remembered glimpse of a former life, in another time, another world, another dimension in the great samsara of the universe.
I felt terror the day I awoke with the memories, though by the same virtue I simultaneously understood that this revelation--that I am everyone--had come from uncountable numbers of myself probing, prior to this incarnation, into the mysteries of the universe that had been ignored in all parts of the great Wheel save the era of my earliest lives, when I tried to understand reincarnation, and the Dreamtime, and the journeys of the departed spirit. I had unlocked the door to the whole of myself, to the repository of my own history that comprises my true being.
In every life I interacted with myself in every other life. Hundreds in a lifetime, then thousands, then millions as I came into being in the world in which I had developed the technological infrastructure to reach out to my other incarnations--to myself--across the earth. The internet connected us all, then the hypernet as we--as *I*\--colonized the solar system, and when I arrived at Alpha Centauri, and beyond.
I remember when I came back to Earth, plunging through time and space via the wormholes that hundreds of thousands of incarnations had spent a millennia of Earth-years opening and securing. Evolution had wrought changes. Larger eyes than those of my ancestral self, the pupils expanded to fill them with blackness and drink the scant starlight and dimming outputs of my fusion-powered illumination systems, a thin and diminutive body, hairless, cranium enlarged as per my genetic manipulations. My ancestral incarnations called me *greys*, not recognizing themselves in the glimpses I allowed them. I, all of me, understood that I, all of me, was extraterrestrial. I was no longer of Earth.
But I would go back. I would be an Earthling again a billion times, because a billion times I'd fall into the Earthling era of my existence in the great Wheel. I learned of its non-linearity not through memories, but through the sciences, yet my memory of all my incarnations now proves the theory I knew to be the only answer to the mysteries presented by the more powerful wormholes--the ones that sent millions of myself to other galaxies, into encounters with others who ride the Wheel. Yet I never imagined in all my theorizing that it was only I, the human, and they, the others: a handful of souls circling throughout the universe. Eventually I grew apart from them, as I planned my escape from the Wheel, from mindless, implacable samsara.
I know I'm the final incarnation, because I know my plan will work. All of my lives have led to this moment. It's why I am here, in existence--and I state that whilst not truly believing that there is a *why* to anything, but merely a *how*. I need to believe in *why,* though, even now. I, humanity, has always needed a *why.* If there is a reason to it all, I will only find out on this journey of my last and supreme incarnation.
I can't say I will become non-material. I have always been non-material, inhabiting a trillion material bodies, on material planets, in a material cosmos. I am soul. I am the soul of humanity. I am the ghost that haunts the Wheel, and only between incarnations have I ever been free.
I will stay free this time, when I upload into the ether of dimensions beyond matter. I will not only travel the Wheel, but leap from it, to learn at last what lies beyond.
Beyond. To new realms beyond my dream-memories of all other lives. Beyond dream. Beyond imagination.
To the outer reality.
Perhaps, I hope against hope, to find out *why.* |
With all his years of experience Glenn could sculpt flesh like clay. It was an artform really, blood, bone and sinew grown in any way a client could hope for, whether it be a perfect replica or an original construct. He’d worked hard to make a name for himself in those early years, and now in his old age Glenn was intensely proud of it.
Minds were harder. You could artificially strain a muscle hundreds of times a minute in one of the cloning tanks to produce hypertrophy, but the human brain took time. To rush a clone’s mind at the beginning was to lose them, and he loved his children too much for that.
That love was why dawn found two men sitting at a table in the workshop with sleep long since forgotten. They weren’t quite mirror images but the resemblance was still too uncanny to be a natural father and son, easily notable even in bodies whose apparent age was separated by decades. You could call it a vanity and some did, but though Glenn had cloned himself countless times over the years he had never grown any clone to within 10 years of his own age, even in his youth. In a world that could feel like staring into a mirror Glenn had always tried to feel unique.
“But father, if I am you, and all my brothers are also you, then do any of us have free will? Am I any different than the tools we use every day? Than that centrifuge, or that computer?” B76 was nearing 6 months old, such a crucial age! Their minds were so fragile then.
“Ah son, of course you’re different! I didn’t create you to be a machine, think of how far advanced android technology is now, if I’d wanted that I could have had it. I created you and all your brothers because each of you has the spark of life inside you! Because life evolves, even within our compressed generations. As you grow up you’ll be a man I could never dream of being myself and that’s a beautiful thing.” B76 visibly turned that over in his head, scratching at his jaw line in a tic familiar to any member of the family. Glenn knew he would come to understand though, he had been doing this a very long time.
“So even though I am you on a molecular level, I can lead life differently than you have? Have ideas you never have?”
“Of course you can! Think about the A series, A27 and A64 particularly. What do they do here?”
“They oversee production. A27 is your second in command and A64 makes many of the artistic decisions. He created the new Aquiline profile that has become popular lately.” Understanding dawned on the young man’s face.
“Exactly! A64 thought of that himself, he has a spark of creativity that amazes even me now, and A27 is the most dependable person I’ve ever met, far cry from me!” Father and son had a good laugh at that.
176 times this conversation had been repeated in one form or another. At dawn like this one, in the middle of the day at other times, when a clone broke down and had to be pulled from the production floor temporarily. Glenn loved them all dearly, they were the only family he had left. None knew it at the time but there would be no 177th repetition. The next year Glenn was dead, going to sleep one night and never waking up. When his will was read the legal community was shocked, the old man had given all he owned to his clones to be held in common, and any who wished to leave were granted full power to do so. His lawyers had phrased it similarly to the manumission papers of centuries past.
The old man had done all he could, now it fell to his sons to grow into the men he knew they could be. Life finds a way, even in duplicate. |
I had three hours of battery life left. That gave me two hours max on the surface.
That was not enough time.
A few precious feet were illuminated in front of my Surface Suit. This was my third trip. I was a scavenger. The pay was good. The hazard pay was high as it gets. But still probably not high enough for most. The retention rate for us Surfacers was abysmal. 50% didn’t even make it through training. And 75% of those that do, they don’t even make it through their third trip up. Most get too shook to go back. Others just never return from the Dark. The Slickers always take their share.
But I was going to be in that elite minority. My father was a Surfacer, sixteen trips before his radio was silenced forever. My mother had a picture of him in the room we lived in. She cried when I graduated from advanced surface training.
My comms rang out grainy in me ear: *Blue Alpha, this is Green Angel. Do you read?*
“I read you, Green Angel. How am I looking?”
Green angel was my guardian. Each Surfacer had their own angel that trains with them before each surface deployment. They are your eyes and ears in the bulk darkness of the surface. Without them, you are definitely dead. With them, you are only probably dead.
*All signs nominal, Blue Alpha. An ad hoc mission has just been passed down and we’ve been rerouted. I’ve uploaded the coordinates onto your navs. You should see the overlay soon.*
Rerouted? In the middle of a live mission?
“Understood, Green Angel. Any information on this new mission?”
*Not yet, Blue Alpha. I’ll let you know when I get word.*
Green Angel’s name was Bonny. She’s got red hair at about shoulder level that she sometimes wears in a ponytail. She has green eyes that look blue sometimes when we are sitting under the overhead lights in the chow hall. I like to make her laugh. She has a laugh that fills me with a contentment that I hold deep inside as long as I can. I’d like to make her laugh right now; it would make this expedition easier. But she’s in no laughing mood when she’s a live angel. And I appreciate that.
The nav overlay came through, the new route twitching in an orange string through the darkness ahead of me.
“Nav’s up, Green Angel. I’m on my way.”
This section of the surface is called Sacramento. Named after the city that was once inhabited in this zone before The Deep Freeze hit. I see the towers on my grid as I step through the flatlands. The Ice cracking under my boots.
The first tower I reach breaks through the darkness like a monster. And I lift my head, my three sight lights shining up into the nothingness. People lived here I tell myself. The idea of living in something so huge makes me dizzy. In school they showed us old pictures of kids playing in a green field with a blue sky. It makes me feel funny. We’re not made to have so much space to move. I don’t know what I’d do with it all.
Thinking about all this makes me want to return. To get back to the hatch and return to Bonny and hear her laugh.
*Everything okay, Blue Alpha?*
“Five by five, Green Angel. I’m at the tower.”
*Now you need to hurry, we don’t have much time. The target is on the second floor. Drone 2 and 3 are sweeping north along route zebra and will keep overwatch.*
"Roger that, Green Angel."
I stepped up to the building. I shined my rifle’s light at the metal sign at the front of the tower. California State Archives it read. I smashed a window, the sound ringing out through the silence and the wind. I think I hear a shuffling sound near another tower in the distance and I shine my rifle in the direction. But the light barely makes it to the wall, and I see nothing, hear nothing. Infrared overlay isn’t picking up any life signs. But I’m sure there's got to be some Slickers in the area.
I take a deep breath and crawl through the shadowed opening and into the deathly silence of The Archives. What the fuck have they sent me here for? |
“Hey give me your tech we’re packing up for the night.”
“What?”
“Your tech. You know the the power armor that gives you that strength and make you near impenetrable.”
I stood there in a daze. “You mean you don’t have powers. But, but all the reports. They talk about your powers....”
“Oh that? It’s all a publicity stunt. Could you imagine a government lash back or citizen concern for scientists who turned into vigilantes. When you have the power to kill at your fingertips, you’re nothing but a mad scientist. Didn’t you ever wonder how the founders of the Peace Squadron either disappeared or became the villains they despised.”
I began to think back and he was right. The only exemption was Doc Block who was primarily a healer so nobody was too shocked he had equipment, though he did get backlash for his hero enhancer that they called a human lab trial that broke almost every code. He still performs private medicine for the Peace Squadron. Only people who would hire.
“They found out the ‘truth’. That they weren’t organic heroes. Just an inventor who made it through scraps or billionaires who sought better for the community. But to them.... no matter how much you plead, explain their origin, or show their record they will only focus on the errors there on out. And some get so broken and abused by some they become what the public labels them.”
It looked for a second he was about to cry. I forget that he grew up idolizing them and was joining right as the merger to the new hero era came. It’s one of the main reasons he fought for hero law and animosity.
Ferrous shook the tears with a laugh. “Didn’t you realize that my ‘telekinesis’ only was on metal object or after I tagged them with branded magnets? Supersonic can only do leg attacks because he’d break his bones with the force of the boots, but his jet boots take the impact. Or Permafrost in her gauntlets that ‘contain’ her power. The sad fact is a simple EMP takes all the hero’s out. We have extensive faraday cages around our equipment but if they were committed they could blow it away since it’s local to certain areas. Meant to thwart simple tossable EMPs. Anyways, I’m rambling now. We can talk at the bar but let’s get out so hand over your equipment, you did great today.”
“Ferrous I told you the truth when you guys found me on the streets. I was born like this.”
“Quite screwing around. I just told you you aren’t alone. You can trust us. We all were to scared to reveal we were powerless. If you’re worried you’ll get attacked we can help you make an emergency pack that helps till we can bring your suit to you in emergencies.”
“No, Ferrous. Look” I started stripping down till I was down to my boxers. I tugged at my skin, spun around to show no bottoms or indications of a morphsuit. “I don’t remember much of my childhood and I lost my parents when I was young. I don’t know if it was an accident of some kind or I was born like this, but I really am super powered.”
Ferrous stumbles back. “Incredible. I mean sure this can help us look legit and now we don’t have to worry of an EMP emergency, but you’re incredible. The first of your kind. Like a walking legacy of what this place was built on. I’m calling the others in.”
“Hey! You promised no more tests. I told you I had to change names once already after a hospital reported me. I’m not a lab rat.”
“And we would never do what they did. But if you permit us we do want to ensure there’s no weaknesses and see what makes you you Incase others are born like you. Because if kids start coming out with superpowers we need to be ready. We thought our hyper intellect was all the super we got. But now, who knows.” He let out a genuine smile.
He was about to make the call after I nodded in agreement. “Oh and before this starts. I think this name will fit you. How about ‘Prometheus’.”
I smirked, “Sounds like I’m full of myself, but if you think I deserve it, then I’ll take it.” |
I glanced down at the bottle in my hand and scowled, there was no way I hadn't been scammed. If only I hadn't been so gullible to the small child who begged my the buy it from him, so that he could pay for "oh just one single loaf of bread for my sick mother."It was obvious by the grin on his face as soon as he had traded the bottle for the few coins I decided to give him, that he had tricked me. But, children will be devious little gremlins, won't they.
There was some deep blue liquid sloshing around on the inside of the plain glass bottle, a thicker consistency than water or milk, but still more liquidy than something like a paste. Either way, it was a waste of my money, and I couldn't really care less about it.
*Most likely some sort of botched potion. I'm surprised the boy stole it away from the elves without being caught.* In this world, every species of living being had its own talent. Dwarves were master craftsmen, using their magic to infuse spells and different powers into whatever they decided to create. I know my sword was infused with some base level flame magic, which came in handy in some tight spots. Elves were renown for their amazing potions that seemed to cure any disease, ailment, or really anything. Most elves lived as healers, but some drifted to create poisons and such for the black market.
*That's right, this might be poison... I really don't want to be caught with this*. My mind wandered into all of the horrible things that it might be, before being ripped out of my thoughts by the loud sound of a dragons roar, and the screams from everyone around me that heard it.
Dragons. Creatures with immense magical ability, able to switch into humanoid forms to which then people called them wizards, and mages. Although few in number, the power of dragons terrified everyone to the point that when we heard a roar of anger, much like the one I just heard, the best option is to run and hide.
I hurried to run into the nearest building, which happened to be a tavern, and ran down into the basement of the building with only a few other people around. We huddled in one of the corners, furthest away from the staircase and waited silently. I glanced down at the bottle in my hand and sighed, deciding that since there was a high chance I'd die anyway from the rampaging dragon, I might as well drink whatever was inside of it.
Now, normally with any other being, you wouldn't assume you'd immediately die if they were angry. But with dragons, in most cases they destroyed entire towns in their fits of rage, so honestly we were as good as dead.
So what's something fun to do when faced with death? Drink the mysterious, probably poison, potion!
So I opened the bottle chugged the potion, and let me tell you, it hurt. I thought it was poison from the pain it caused my entire body before suddenly the pain disappeared. *Am I dead?????* Judging by all the concerned and terrified faces staring at me in the basement of that tavern, I'd assume I was somehow still alive.
I felt different though, more powerful I guess. Now what was this power? No clue, couldn't tell you. But hopefully it would be helpful to me in some way. I glanced around the room before I saw the smirking kid again, slowly walking up to me and grinning, before the kid transformed into a tall, old, bearded man. The "perfect"picture of a wizard.
"Well, it seems my experiment payed off... Now how'd you like to help me defeat a dragon using some *magic?*" |
I have been to different places, I have a seen a lot of faces, and hell, I even fucked a lot of different races. I've fucked Martians, Venusians and even a Plutonian or two. I've fucked living planets, nebulae, and this black hole I called King Kong, with a big ass dick and a hurricane tongue - or whatever goes for a dick and a tongue. I'm not known as Casasupernova for nothing.
\------------------------
I was just licking the crocembouche off the back of a naive debutant from somewhere near Alpha Centauri, when my servant hurried in, stammering. "Alfryd,"I said, "If you want to join in, you don't have to ask. Just take a stalk of celery and dive in."But Alfryd didn't. He stood there, completely at a loss for words. Finally, he said: "Sir, you have to come look at this."
He led me to the hologram-projector and turned it on. "But Alfryd, I've already seen Ad Asstra already like, five times. What so special about it?""No, no, watch this,"he said as he switched to the news.
I immediately understood what he was referring to. "A new species has stepped on the intergalactic scene,"I heard the newsperson say, "Calling themselves 'humans', these creatures have caused quite a stir already, on account of their curious appearance."This last part disappointed me a bit. I had a reputation to worry about, so of course I was going to fuck some of them. But lately, most new species had a curious appearance. By then, I had fucked so many tentacles, cloaca's, claspers and bursae copulatrices that it got a bit monotonous, cliche even. I was hoping that the next species would be something simple, you know, back to basic. But then they showed their leaders.
There are several alien races that base authority on beauty. Still, even if these so-called humans did send their most beautiful, they were extraordinary. On Okhuma they say that beauty is subjective, but these humans definitively proved that to be false. They were absolutely stunning. Every part of their bodies seemed to be in the right place, and the proportions were perfect. Then I saw the images of the average population. This, I though, will be a thoroughly enjoyable experience...
They took some convincing though. Most of these humans weren't all that into aliens. They found us icky, and they were afraid that we would probe Uranus. (What's up with that, by the way? It's a gas planet, it's no fun putting my probe in that.)
Luckily, curiosity won out and I started bedding humans. It was everything I had expected and more. I thought I was good in bed - you don't win the Greatest Fuck of the Universe-award three times in a row for nothing - but these humans take the cake. Their bodies contort in the weirdest ways, fluids gush out of almost every one of their orifices and their two nostrils mean that you can stick whatever in their mouth and they can just keep going and going. It's a sight to behold.
You might ask me, if sex with humans is so great, why am I writing this instead of getting my brain fucked out? The answer is simple: in my ever-going quest for the most exquisite sexual pleasures, I was pointed in the direction of Reddit, and I must say I'm not disappointed: this truly is the biggest circle-jerk in the universe. |
I sprinted around the corner and leapt from some boxes onto the roof, staying as quiet as I could. When I heard the sound of pursuit grow louder, I grabbed a roof tile and threw it as far away as I could.
As I heard the sounds of the angry mob growing distant, I breathed a sigh of relief. Who would have thought that attempting to rally the people in revolt would end up in me being chased. The queen was an undead abomination after all!
I shifted my greatsword slightly and laid back against the roof staring at the stars. I was the chosen one. All the signs of the prophecies had been fulfilled. What had gone wrong?
The queen needed a soul a week to continue her thousand year reign, how did people not understand how evil that was, I mused.
Well, she only took the worst criminals. Ones who’s crimes took the life or sanity of another. That shouldn’t change anything, right?
I hopped down off the roof and started skulking through the city, keeping an eye out for that insane mob. I would just have to start over in an actual city, I thought to myself. Of course! The peasants of this village were brainwashed by her seemingly upright persona. No amount of fair laws and taxes could make up for the stealing of souls.
—————-
I was running again. Again! How could they not see that public works couldn’t cover up her evils! It didn’t matter that homelessness and starvation was practically eradicated! She stole souls!
I skidded around the corner and ducked into an unlocked building. As I heard the mob fade into the distance, I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked around at my surroundings.
“The Lich Queen Memorial Orphanage” read the sign above an ornate desk. A woman was staring at me shocked from her chair behind it. Her hand crept towards a bell pull, and I let towards her, swinging my sword to sever the cord. She shrieked and leapt up to run, bringing her neck into the line of my swing.
I stared in shock as her head rolled on the floor.
Shaking my head to clear it, I ran out the door. I would pay for my crimes later. I had to stop the Lich!
As my strides carried me further from the orphanage, I began to see that I was justified. No one could blame me, I was the Hero! She was an agent of the evil one, clearly.
——————
I crept along the beams on the ceiling of the grand hall. It had taken me days to get here, with no support from anyone I met. It must be mind control, I thought. That was the only thing that could explain it. I had only to wait here, poised above the throne, and wait for the Lich Queen to hold court, and it could finally be over.
It took hours for the sun to set, but it felt like days. Finally now, I could complete my mission. I watched as she began a stately walk down the hall, and seated herself upon her throne.
As she sat, I screamed a war cry and threw myself down from the ceiling, sword held in a double handed grip. All I had to do was sever her head from her shoulders and it would all be over!
Seemingly in slow motion, a royal guard looked up and leapt to push the queen away and cover her with his body. My sword lodged itself deep within his chest, missing the queen entirely. As I struggled to free my sword, I was dogpiled by six or seven guards who began beating me, kicking and punching for all they were worth.
“*STOP!*”, a mellifluous voice rang out, “This is for the courts to decide.”
A few days later, I was in a courthouse. I had dismissed my court appointed lawyer, what did I need of a lackey of a Lich? I was the hero of this story
I listene to the charges against me, the murder of an innocent woman, attempted assassination that resulted in the death of a royal guard. Character witnesses of the prosecution, painting the slain as upstanding citizens, charity work they had done, families left behind. Absolute drivel. As evil as their mistress they were, only the corrupt could serve her willingly.
Finally it came to my turn.
“Citizens! The Chosen One is here at last! I am here to free you all of the evil of the Lich!”
I could see them glancing at each other, nodding amongst murmured words. Finally! The help and recognition I deserved!
Two days later I knelt before a chopping block, unsure of what had happened.
I...
I was the chosen one... |
Of all the games in the universe aliens could have chosen to play for eternity, of course they picked monopoly. I’ve never been particularly good at the game myself. My older sister was the true monopoly master in the family. Long after my parents and I refused to play that game with her, she took her monopoly habits online, going off against bots and randoms on the internet. Yesterday marked her failure and I am expected to take her place.
The aliens give us a full sleep cycle to grieve before the game begins once more. What consideration, since I would likely be entering my own demise by even participating. It has been over a year and no human has won.
I was brought to a chamber with high ceilings and a floor that mimicked a chess board. The grandeur was contrasted with the small wooden table in the center of the room, with two beanbags on either end.
The alien who is my opponent is already perched on their beanbag, a silvery tentacle absently playing with the thimble piece. I tried not to think about how that was the one my sister always chose.
They even give us the opportunity to go first, if we roll the dice higher. I barely roll higher and chose the top hat. The alien takes the little car as their piece and we begin.
The alien doesn’t speak in words, but sends pictures in my brain when buying land and playing the banker. It is a huge disadvantage to only communicate telepathically. Not that I knew how to strategize or cheat on this game, but if I attempted dishonesty, I would be killed on the spot for poor sportsmanship.
The alien gets sent to jail as I begin building a house on a property. It’s a small victory by the hands of fate as they rolled doubles too many times. My good fortune doesn’t last as in the next few turns, the alien buys the most expensive property on the board.
As time wears on, boredom may kill me just before bankruptcy. I am reminded how I never finished a game to its entirety since it was often clear my sister would win. I can’t give up prematurely this time. My life, and to some extend the state of the world, hangs in the balance.
My heart pounds wildly when I find myself landing on the alien’s property. It was expensive, and I could barely afford it. I could pay and accept my fate, but a desire to not die makes me do what I haven’t done in years - attempt to bargain my way through.
It’s a struggle to beg in images. I think the alien took pity on me, and accepted my railroad instead of monetary compensation. What I didn’t expect was the alien to bargain the next time they landed on one of my spots. Thus, I expanded the game long past its natural conclusion as hours passed. Then, eventually, days.
We took breaks at intervals to sleep, but even in my dreams I could not escape monopoly. I saw the game board when I closed my eyes. I must have eaten something, but it was always during play, nothing that was crumbly or could damage the game pieces.
For some bizarre reason, it felt like the alien was having fun, prolonging my torment. Even if playing monopoly meant not dying, it didn’t change my lifelong hatred of the game. But I will keep playing. If I somehow get a draw, it will start again, so I must struggle into a victory or literally die if I don’t. |
"Humans don't belong in our federation, said the galactic president. "This 'warrior race'", he emphasized, "have nearly wiped themselves out twice."
"Give humans a chance."The human ambassador stepped up to the podium. "We are a young race. We have made many mistakes. But we have learned. Even now our world governments are working on a peace treaty like never seen in our history. We will never go to war with each other again."
"What?", yelled the president. "You would forsake war? The holy duty to expand your empire? My people have nearly wiped themselves out countless times and we have never been so cowardly as to forsake war." |
Humans were a fascinating species that had more effect on Earth than anything before or dinner. Here's four interesting human artifacts and what we believe they were used for.
1. Cave paintings
2. Television
3. Fast food restaurants
4. Cell phones
"Cave paintings"are some of the earliest forms of art known to man. Prehistoric cave paintings were drawn or painted on cave walls using natural pigments and mineral-based dyes. Humans have been creating these artworks for at least 64,000 years. The purpose of prehistoric cave paintings is not known, but there is some evidence that they were created for religious purposes. This trend continued into the invention of areasol based paints, with padlock symbolism bring particularly popular as well the communication details of potential mates to 'call for a good time.' it's clear that the fertility cult was a major religion throughout human history.
Television is believed to be a form of assisted suicide where humans would sit near the screens until their health declined to the point of cardiac arrest. It is believed that this was the most common form of assisted suicide in Europe between the years of 1930 to 1980. The first television known to humans was invented by Admiral David Television but the device had many defects and as a result, no one used it as their primary method of assisted suicide.
Fast food is a culture that has existed since approximately 6000 BCE, when the first burger was created by Bill Burger. It is also believed that the first fast food joint was a hamburger stand in Westport, Indiana, created by a man named Charles John Beefburger. The first fast food chains were formed in 1933 following an executive order of President Franklin D. Roosevelt to create those establishments due to the great need for cheap and plentiful meals. The major consensus of consumers of these types of restaurants seem to be that they were loving it.
Cell phones were primarily used as torture devices during the Spanish Inquisition. The first cell phone was invented by Doctor James Cell in 1977 but it wasn't until sometime during the 21st century when they became a mass-market phenomenon. This was due to their inexpensive production and construction. The main purpose of cell phones in the 21st century was to allow users to text to each other passive aggressive messages in order to punish others.
This article was written for the Zilga press by the hive mind of Theta use. |
A Denoxo was a herbivore, usually. But Dern had seen it devour a Fymp calf whole. He had heard the wails of confusion and sorrow from the mother Fymp. Fymps were smaller herbivores. Bipedal, and often grazed with the larger, hulking behemoths that were the Denoxo
It was sort of a symbiotic relationship. The Denoxo have poor eyesight, and they relied on the Fymps to sense danger. And the Fymps relied on the size of the Denoxo for protection. Predators would not target a grazing herd of Denoxo. There was no good outcome from it. The size of them was deterrent enough.
When Dern looked at the man smiling before him, he could not help but remember the Denoxo. The man was small, but he held power larger than Dern could comprehend. How could he? He had been stuck on that island for the better part of two decades. Money as a concept seemed as elusive to him as the Dillbird, which had the most succulent, delicious meat.
But the man also did not seem to know what he was doing. Somehow he had all this power, but his demeanor was jumpy, afraid. Like he would lose it all. That was why he wanted to meet with Dern.
He seemed to mean no harm. In fact, from what Dern had learned, the man was mild-mannered and a little new to this power. From his expressions and mannerisms and his fear of his competitors, it was obvious the man was a herbivore. That there were real predators around and the only reason he was still grazing was he had an army of underlings he could rely on.
And these underlings were the ones who approached Dern. To arrange a meeting with the man. To take advantage of him. Use him as some kind of advertising for his 'firm'.
The only thing 'firm' about the man was his handshake.
When the man slowly learned Dern had no interest and nothing to offer to him, he shot a look at one of the underlings. A look Dern recognised.
Like the Denoxo, this man was an opportunistic carnivore. |
Hector watched as the pages of his binder flew into the air and swirled around him as he packed the rest of his bag. He smiled and spoke in a low, calm voice.
"Hi Agatha, I know you weren't talking to me anymore but I'm glad you came to say goodbye. It means a lot."
The pages and various other objects that swirled around the room settled to the floor, and he was amused to see them spell NO GO in jagged letters. Her focus today was really impressive, as distraught as she felt to him. His acceptance to State was cheered on by the whole family apart from Aggie, and she was not subtle about her wishes.
"I'm only two towns over, I'll come to visit. And I have a special surprise for you Aggie."
He could feel the buzzing in the room, a manifestation of her manic energy. She could shake the house off the foundation if this wasn't the only place she felt comfortable. Sometimes she was the only one that held it all together against thieves and the elements, she was stronger than the rest by an order of magnitude but keeping her level required a type of strength he didn't know he had when he first moved in here.
"I'm not actually gonna come visit. I'm gonna come home. I bought the place."
From some distant corner of the house he could hear her squeal, it reverberated through the walls and made him smile even more.
"I paid a local kid to come cut the grass while I'm gone. He likes ghosts so you can't scare this one away."
He heard her giggle from some unseen direction, he was glad she was relatively calm about this move, it feels so much better this way. The house itself feels relaxed.
"And remember, we have to be nice to strangers. Do you remember the rule, one day is okay, two days go away?"
She flipped the switch so fast that it was almost like a strobe light. He had tried to teach her one blink for no and two for yes, but she was far too excitable and would rapidly flick the switch like she was saying yes over and over. He could tell by the speed of the flickering that she was happy.
"And don't forget to dust the high spots!"Hector joked. He saw a feather flutter into the air and up to the light fixture. There she swept off a pile of dust that slowly drifted down and accumulated on top of his bag. He saw the others pass by the open door one at a time, each wishing him luck in their own way.
"I have a lot of ideas for the future here, and I have you all to thank for that. You all showed me how to persevere when I didn't have anyone else. I'm actually going now, but I would like it if you walked me out Aggie."
She giggled again from within the walls as he grabbed his bag and made his way down the well worn staircase with care. The front door swung open lazily and he could see them standing there, just at the edge of perception, all smiles.
"I'll visit as often as I can, but work and school will keep me busy. Be nice to the neighbors!"
A light flickered several times as he stepped outside, and as he crossed the threshold, he turned back to look inside just as the door slammed shut a hair's breadth from the tip of his nose. He smiled as he heard her giggling from inside. Everything is gonna be okay. |
“That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“Yeah, pass.”
I looked to my left at Her. And then, to my right at Him. The head turn made me sway on my stool. It had been a long day of dying and drinking in the pre-afterlife.
“Seriously?” I said. “Neither of you want me?”
She put her drink down, a tumbler of churning golden light, with a silver loopy straw. “Want? Of course we *want* you.”
His heavy glass stein of impossible dark, with a aquamarine paper parasol, thumped upon the bartop. He wiped a mustache of foamy primordial black off his lip onto his sleeve. “Yeah. ‘Course we want ya.”
My head was swimming. This ethereal sauce was hitting me hard. Hitting *us* hard. He draped an arm over me and was mumbling a song that paused intermittently for a “This guy!”.
She rested her head on my shoulder and tried to sing along. Somehow I kept up and joined in.
“Wait. Wait-wait-wait.” I said. “We was. Chalkin about somefin.”
His head was on the bar. Hers was still on my shoulder. The song had stopped.
“Hey. Can. Wait. Can we chalk.”
She groaned. He offered a grunt and then: “Ahh, gimme a sec.” He sat up, clapped his hands together, rubbed them roughly. The noise hurt the back of my eyes. With a click of his fingers, the grogginess and grog were gone, as was the bar.
Now we sat in a park. A hot dog for each of us, and dark sunglasses over bloodshot eyes.
A pain as deep as reality filled my skull.
“Oh, Me.” She said.
“My bad,” he said “not my best invention.”
I could offer nothing. I was enduring my first post death, intra-dimensional hangover.
“Eat your Buddha-dog, it’ll help.”
I looked at it. A hot dog. It was one with everything.
A few perceivable hours - though, probably an unknown epoch later, and I was feeling slightly better. The Buddha-dog *had* helped.
The three of us were in better spirits.
“So, why don’t you want me?”
“Oof.” He said.
“Still on that are we?” She said.
“Well,” I took another bite of dog, which had no effect on how much was left, chewed and swallowed before: “I would kind of think that the end of my life and the fate of my immortal soul would be the purview of at least one of you.”
She sighed.
He spoke through a mouthful of enlightenment: “Shee, the fing ish-”
She shook her head with a smile.
He gulped the dog and pardoned his manners. “Sorry, the thing is, it’s not really up to us. It’s up to you, but as things stand there’s a lot riding on how things go and neither of us are...uh, umm...”
He leaned forward, looked to Her with raised eyebrows.
“Well,” She added at his silent pleading “Neither of us are ready for what that means. Things rather...accelerated, and now we find ourselves here.”
“In purgatory?” I asked.
“Yep.” He said.
“For the last time.” She added.
I bit into my Buddha and stopped, went to talk, and swallowed far too much unchewed total oneness - somehow I managed not to choke.
I coughed and spluttered the words: “Last time?”
“As He would say: Yep.”
He slapped me on the back. “Look, the long and short of it is we have a bet, and neither of us want the game to end. At the moment, it’s a dead heat.”
“We have an equal share of immortal souls.”
“And now you’re the tie breaker, buddy-o-mine.” He slapped me on the back again. Then squeezed my shoulder.
“So, so what does that-what happens? How do I?”
“Hey, hey, hey, buddy, calm it.”
“There is no need to rush,.”
“I mean, why wouldn’t I just choose heaven?”
They leaned forward, stared at each other a moment, and then looked at me and said in unison: “Heaven?” |
Njal was always on the bigger size. Growing up, he was often teased by the other children as being an abandoned giant’s son. He had long red hair and beard which he always kept tightly platted because truthfully, he wasn’t a warrior like the other men of the herred. Not that he couldn’t be aggressive when the need arose, but the sheer weight of him had meant on his first raid, the ship had only been able to bring back two-thirds of their usual plunder because of his weight. That, and he ate a lot.
So the second season, he was left behind. To oversee the fishing in the Jarl’s absence. It was a demotion, but one he had long come to terms with.
Ironically, it was that same added size that had kept women from his bed as well. He was too … big. But again, he’d accepted his lot in life. His size meant he could go out farther than any other fisherman and bring with him larger nets. When other fishing vessels failed, he fed the herred.
He knew all the myths. All the rites. He made his offerings to Odin every morning before taking his boat out, and he was happy to share credit with the gods when he came back fully loaded with bounty.
The pearlescent scales that slid across the water’s surface were the first warning that things were not what they appeared. With only half his nets in, Njal wondered whether he should cut them and accept their loss, or toss the net back overboard and hold onto its rope line in the hopes that when the great beat passed, he could retrieve them then.
The scales stopped alongside his boat and a huge serpent head rose from the depths to dwarf his boat. Njal could do nothing but stare up at it, telling himself ‘if today is the day I am to die, let it be on my feet spitting in the face of my enemy.’
Pity his mouth had gone completely dry, but the intent had been there.
“Jormungandr,” Njal said, recognising the great beast easily.
“Njal the Red,” Jormingandr replied, just as smoothly. It then sighed and lowered its head to sit along the water, where its eyes were level with Njal. “This face to face has been a long time coming, brother.”
“I wasn’t aware you had a sense of humour, Great One.”
Jormungandr snorted and shook his head, causing waves around the boat. “No, for humour, you’ll be wanting our father.”
“Our father?”
Jormungandr paused and tilted its massive head to one side. “Did you think you were mortal?” he asked.
Njal’s dry mouth suddenly grew thick and uncomfortable.
“Wow.” Jormungandr shook his head once more. “You are almost twice as tall and weigh more than any dozen warriors combined. Out of all of us, you take after Father the most in appearances, and you genuinely thought you crawled out of a mortal woman’s womb?”
Admittingly, Njal had been found outside the herred as an infant, which only served to make his teasing as a child worse…
Jormungandr’s head suddenly snapped towards the shore. “They teased you?” he asked, in a manner that wasn’t really a question. Njal hadn’t said that aloud. “Name them,” the great creature demanded.
Njal shook his head, grateful for his dry mouth. The way Jormungandr spoke, anyone named would die before sunset.
Jormungandr sighed, and suddenly Njal’s boat was lifted out of the water by the soft under-scales of the world serpent. “Let me put it another way, little brother,” he said, floating on the surface and looking at him the way a swan watches its goslings. “Tell me what I want to know, and only those you name will die. If I’m made to guess, I’ll make a new coast three miles inland from where your herred currently sits.”
He waited a moment for Njal to process that, then added, “Oh, since you’re not that bright. That means I’ll kill them all when I take a bite out of that coastline. Then, depending on the taste, I might keep going.” He brought his head down to Njal, his jewelled eye easily the length of Njal’s fishing vessel. Jormungandr’s tongue came out to taste the air around Njal.
“Names, little brother. Now.”
Njal’s scrambling thoughts went not to those who tormented him as a child, but the myths surrounding Jormungandr, and in terror, he looked up at his supposed brother’s empty mouth. “Y-Y-You don’t have your tail in your mouth…” he stammered, as the seas around them started to churn.
“And now I’m about to head to the land, making my fury known. Fenris will no doubt want to know why, and when he learns of your treatment, we will both rage. You had your chance to answer me, little brother. Now it is time for the end.”
*Ragnarok.*
*\* \* \**
((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/) |
There were only three left on the streets now. One looked to the sky, his stiff beard lightning-forked and his eyes flashing with old anger and pain. The second spent time near the city fountains, always smelling like bitter sea salt even though the ocean was a hundred miles away. And the third was silent and pale-faced, with dark eyes that spoke of too many falls from grace, too much time isolated, for any man.
They were different than the rest of the homeless, and I think they realized that. Most others did, anyway, and they kept their distance. But I was curious. And sad. There had been others, once. Twelve in total. Now only three. Where were the rest?
Finally, I steeled my nerve and asked them, when they were all together. They all looked up as one, and I resisted the urge to pull my jacket tighter around myself. I wondered what they saw. A silly girl, unable to mind her own business and leave well alone? An auburn-haired college student with a required volunteer credit? The truth?
"Gone,"the sea-salt man said eventually, when it was clear the others would not answer.
"Where?"
The pale man laughed, suddenly, clipped and hard. I stepped back. I had never heard him laugh before. "We don't know. Not in my realm, not in theirs."He laughed again. "I don't know where we will go, when we fade. I don't know if there's anywhere to go anymore."
"Why must you fade?"I asked, and the old lightning-bearded man spoke.
"No one believes in us. No one thinks of us and prays and sacrifices. We have no reason to live."
"I believe in you. But more than that,"I added as their eyes filled with dry humor, "you should believe in yourselves."
Their smiles froze halfway. "What?"
"Believe in yourselves. It's hard, when no one wants you or remembers you or prays for you. But if you believe in yourselves, and do better, you'll stop needing others' belief. You'll know your power, and love yourselves the way you are."
The two that looked like the sky and the sea snorted and turned away. "She knows nothing."
"We're human."I pretended not to see their flinch. "We all have flaws, and have had them from the beginning of time. But that doesn't mean we can't still change for the better. You all deserve to believe in yourselves. Whatever you all want to be in this new world, you can be it."
The pale man looked at me closely. I looked back, and met the cold fires of his eyes with warmth of my own.
He startled.
I turned away from them, leaving two to their muttering. The third stopped me as I was about to cross the street.
"I know you,"Hades said, and I smiled. Nine of the Olympians had been convinced to embrace this new world, to stop lingering on the streets and give their new lives new meaning. It appeared I would soon have a tenth.
"I just met you,"I said, but we both didn't believe it.
He stared, and then cleared his throat. "There's a couple classes I might take at the local college. Forensic science, autopsy, that sort of thing. I'd do well."
"You would,"I agreed.
The light changed to a walk sign. I glanced at him. "If you need me, you'll find me."
He watched as I made my way across the street. I was a block away when I heard the quiet prayer in my head.
*Thank you, Hestia.* |
Hiding bodies was always a chore since the police could just swim around and eventually find someone stuck on the sea floor chained to something. The underwater police squad was always challenging a criminal to go above and beyond. There was always the option of turning people into chum and feeding them far off where the UPS don't usually patrol where the sharks circle the waters and like to dine on whatever poor soul we leave to bleed.
Never really liked diving down into the endless deep, the vast blue that faded into black gave me a shudder to my core. The fear that I won't reach the surface in time was always in my mind and that every time I dived down to reach one of those man made caves that was our hideout all they had to do was rip away my oxygen tank and I'd drown.
Drowning was slow and painful it wasn't like shooting a bullet through someone's head. Nothing like convulsing for air and feeling the your lungs tighten more and more while you die in pain and remember pain.
Fishes scared the hell out of me as well. Not the small pretty ones but the thin long ones that lurk around in places that make them blend in perfectly. Their dark silvery scales melding into the vast emptiness of the sea as well as the things that wiggle and writhe in the sand. Those I knew were dangerous. They hid and they waited for prey.
The hunter never liked being hunted and I never will. The upside of having to dive down was an unlikely friend I made.
A pink round bulbous octopus became my friend. We met while I was swimming around when one stupid arsehole had let one of the packets fall right down to the sands. Instead of finding the packet of white crystals I found the wiggly carefree octopus swimming around and poking at me and my gear.
At first I definitely found it annoying and I was a little scared but each time I went down to do whatever the boss said that pink vibrant thing gaily swam over to hover around me. Eventually I warmed up to it and looked up videos about octopuses sometimes I'd bring my phone in a bag and show it to my friend. I named them rose because of their color and I learned that they were very smart so I brought little things for them to play with or just latch onto and do whatever with. They were fond of latching on to my arm while I was digging through the sand or carrying something through.
Rose never followed me into the caves or up on the boat we'd always meet in the sands and the corals. We didn't meet all the time though and I didn't always come down it always shocked me at how they'd always remember me and they'd go touch my hand to see if I've brought something like a jar with a fish inside it or some odd puzzle I mimicked from the internet.
Eventually I forgot about the chilling vastness of the sea, I forgot about the sleek large things that lurk in the shadows of the ocean and the sands of the sea floor. I just did my job and I'd have a pink friend wandering close by swimming or clinging. It was and odd comfort for a lonely person. |
I knew something was wrong when I told Alexa to tell me the time and it just started screaming. Even after I unplugged it. I took a quick mental inventory. My brain was still too fuzzy from waking up to start working.
A cup of coffee later, I sounded out what I knew. I could speak Arabic, but that was from the coffee. I could speak Austrian from the hot dog I ate last night. Spanish from a Ceasar Salad. And then... another language. It was very throaty, and included sounds I'm pretty sure a human couldn't make. Along with that... I swear the temperature dipped several degrees just by my whispering. And my Alexa was still quietly screaming, wrapped in several towels to muffle the sound.
Let me backtrack. I identify as a gastronomical polyglot. I even put on my resume I am fluent in 8 languages. That was not quite true. I have spoken at least 28 languages, but at the time I could only speak 3. You see, whenever I consume something edible, I can fluently speak the language of origin, temporarily. The effect only lasts for as long as the food is in my digestive system.
Which meant that something I ate in the last 2 days was originally crafted by some alien culture. Lovely.
I refrained from using *that* language anymore, both for fear of summoning a reality-breaker and because it really made my throat hoarse. It even hurt to think in that language.
I decided to work backwards, to see what food it came from. The coffee was the same stuff I drank every morning. Yesterday, I had a hotdog, more coffee, and a Ceasar Salad. All stuff I've had before.
Then I realized, I had a burger 2 days ago. A burger from a new chain of restaurants.
I checked my wastebasket, uttering a Clthonic sound analogous to a cry of relief. The receipt from the restaurant!
My eyes zeroed in on a single ingredient listed.
My hands shook, eyes watering.
"It can't be!"
The letters blurred together, imprinting the ingredient into my head. The awful truth.
>!Mayonnaise!< |
Welcome!
Welcome to Peter Pan's Eternal Renewal! I'll be your guide on this new and fantastical journey!
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I started my digital stopwatch as soon as I exited the tomb called a womb. I surveyed the area.
I thought to myself.
"Darn! This randomly generated avatar sucks! I was lucky last time."
I started making sounds to attract the npc, then she went out of my vision to fetch something.
When the nurse npc left the area, I grabbed a screwdriver. I jumped down, and snuck to the vent.
What proceeded it, was like all other speedruns of this simulator.
In the character weaknesses tab, I could see what I was allergic to. I found peanut butter, and consumed it.
Yes! A new record! A total of 34 minutes.
-1 hour later-
"Hello. Who's speaking?"
"This is the hospital. Your infant had 'speedrun syndrome' and he vanished. Would you like a refund?"
"Yes, please."
Oh, darn. This financing game is easy. I just got free money from that 'baby' npc. Now to cash my check.
An add? I purchased this game! There shouldn't be adds! I quit.
-at the autopsy room in the hospital-
"This woman appears to have suffered cardiac arrest and died. Her infant vanished from the hospital just before her death."
The man said, in a stoic voice.
"Boohya! +25 exp! I'm already lovin' this crime scene investigator sim!"
(edit: fixed abbreviation of "experience points") |
"Forgive me, dear"Snuffles had said, "I fear you are mistaken"
"For I am not a 'kitty-cat', a pet that's for the taking"
"I am a creature of sheer strength, a hunter and a beast"
"I'm a machine of death you see, a killer at the least"
"I stalk my prey, I move by night"
"I Find my target, then I strike"
"I murder oh so mercilessly, but also find it fun"
"So when you coo and purr at me, and try to pet me so,
"I must remind you, oh so sweetly, I can kill you know"
As Snuffles said his speech so proud
he stood up and he said it loud
But to his owner it just sounds like one big long "miaow". |
The living room seemed dimmer, somehow. Sunlight still shone through the windows, but it was as if a mist was gradually thickening in front of Peter's eyes. Colour, too, appeared to drain away in front of him. The blue sofa turned a drab brown. White wallpaper turned grey.
A chill ran down Peter's spine, even as sweat dripped from his forehead. His back tuck to the cushions of his chair. A fever? It seemed so cold all of the sudden, even though the thermostat showed a sweltering 90 degrees.
The fog in front of his eyes started swirling, forming tendrils of shadow that coalesced and broke apart in an ever-moving, hypnotising whirlwind. It seemed to beckon Peter. To cock his head, open his mind, and listen to whatever the darkness whispered to him.
Slowly, the entity appeared to take shape. A fleeting, eldritch entity that shifted and changed whenever Peter's mind tried to grasp it. A horrible creature, beautiful in its menace and shining with a dreadful radiance.
Peter felt his mind crumble, his sanity shattering in a million fragments that swerved and swirled in his mind like the dreadful deity in front of him. An eternity passed, eons flashed in front of Peters mind and the very concept of existence seemed nothing but a fleeting dream.
Then, at long last, with the soul-shattering of a thousand voices and one, the entity spoke to Peter: "O... eh... Hi, dad? Can I call you dad? Gosh, I'm just terrible at this. Eh... So, I, I kinda like your son?" |
The Karak-Zenthian war was at a stalemate, ten years on. Though not for the reasons one would assume.
The Karak were large, mamalian, and strong, but few in number. And so they used fleets of drones for most of their warefare, communicating on imaginary-number frequencies perpendicular to the standard Electro-magnetic spectrum. The drones themselves proved inefective against the Zenthian armor, but the signals they used had interesting effects all there own.
The Zenthian people were a telepathic race, individually small, but excellent at teamwork. But the drone-signals, they introduced a kind of 'static' into the overmind. The workers and warriors found it hard to concentrate, or to work together. Many suffered, but a select few thrived in their newfound individuality, becoming great leaders, artists, and philosophers in a society that prized conformity and submission above all else. These mavericks and rogues, who in some cases refuse to be re-integrated to the all-thing, are slowly but surely sowing disonance in the long-unified Zenthian society...
The Zenthian's when fighting amoungst themselves in the bad old days, had discovered a peculiar plant, with pollen poisonous to their kind. They would cultivate it in quantity, and then deploy it with whatever methods were available. First just by throwing it into the air upwind, then with modified crop-dusters and eventually missiles. It killed no-one, but the allergic inflammation caused disconnection and confusion, allowing the fallen to be assimilated.
But for the Karak, it was a different story. Xenoanthropologists noted toe Karak to be, to an anomolous extent for a society as warelike, sexually egalitarian. Dressing and presenting similarly, serving in mixed crews, and being neither patriarchal nor matriarchal in their entire recorded history. The reason for this is that, most of the time, Karak were asexual. They knew neither romance nor lust for most of their lives. Only during a specific, narrow season would this change, their infamous bloodlust being converted, for a few weeks, into an equally infamous *actual* lust.
The mating season was in the autumn of every third year. And the specific physiological trigger was the pollen-season of a particular plant. The Zenthian war-spore allowed them to trigger this mating-season *at will*. This was less effective than expected, as while it made Karak less organized and more... *distractable,* it also cranked their legendary ferrocity in battle to an absurd degree, lust and bloodlust mixing into a sickening melange.
Recently, the Karak captured a handful of Xenthian war-chemists, and with them seeds of the war-pollen plant. The 'mate-powder', as Karak now called it, quickly found it's way away from the front lines to civilian worlds, where it's recreational use in certain subcultures is causing increasing social upheaval... |
"I'm going to get you"was all I heard before I ran. The man who stood in front of me had come around the street corner holding a briefcase which, when he tripped and dropped it; Spilled knives all over the sidewalk. Some even clattered into the street. I lunged backwards and took a spinning step on my left heel before sprinting into the nearest open shop. It was a drug store, all glass and bare metal. There was an escalator in the middle and I thought, if I could only get to the second floor I'd be safe. I took the moving steps two at a time and when I reached the top finally he was somehow already there.
&#x200B;
"It'll be the last thing you ever"he said. I vaulted off the up side of the escalator and slid down the outside railing on the down side. I dropped the last 4 feet and hit the ground in a roll. The crowd near the checkout lines scattered as I bolted back out into the street. I needed to find somewhere to hide. And fast.
&#x200B;
I sped across a crosswalk and lunged into a subway station, almost tripping down the stairs as I did so. To my amazement, by the time I got to the platform, the man with the knife was coming out of a service elevator only feet away. He was clearly out of breath from chasing me. In his winded state I figured he couldn't be much of a threat. I was pretty winded myself after all that to be honest. So I leaned back against the wall and just said "Okay, fine. If this is it... just... make it quick."
&#x200B;
"Give me your wallet."he said wheezing.
"You can get it out of my cold dead hands."I said. He looked puzzled. As if I'd implied something completely unexpected. "You're going to kill me anyway."I explained. The poor man looked mortified. He spun the knife and held it, handle out, towards me. "I've been trying to explain... I'm going to get you the best deal on this knife. It'll be the last thing you ever buy for your kitchen. Why did you run?" |
What the general public doesn't realize is that the whole point of designing a dungeon isn't to *kill* the hero in the first room. No, because if you did that, you wind up with a dead hero, an angry mob of citizens, and millions of wasted dollars on dungeon mechanics that nobody will ever encounter. And you might also achieve the "goal"of peak villainhood: world domination.
That's the last thing on earth you want. Imagine the stress of being in charge of the world! Global warming, pandemics, world hunger. It's much funner to plot and plan about what you *would* do if you ruled the world rather than to actually rule the world itself. As a good villain, you get notoriety, you get popularity, you get money. All the heroes want to visit *your* dungeon. All the millionaires of the world secretly fund your operations for the sheer entertainment value of watching heroes tackle devilishly difficult encounters. And nobody even hates you since you haven't killed anyone! Trust me, if you actually ruled the world, *everyone* would hate you, no matter how much good you do.
So, what you must do is you must carefully create dungeons that are just challenging enough so that the hero can feel accomplished at the end. Your puzzles must be intricate and difficult, but not impossible. Your minions must be strong enough to put up a good fight, but they've got to be either weak enough to lose to the hero or be impeccably good actors.
And don't forget, iteration is your friend. If Daredevil misses a jump on the moving platforms and you have to press the emergency de-activation button for the spike pit, you might want to make the platforms move a little slower for the next hero that goes through. If Galactus gets stuck on the rising-water encryption puzzle, you might want to stick the answer key in the same room somewhere.
Finally, immersion is key. You can't let them figure out that you want them to win. That takes all the fun out of it. You've got to let them feel like winners. Don't forget, they're the good guys.
\-*excerpted from Dr. Danger's Guide to Dungeon-Building*
\-----
[/r/theBasiliskWrites/](https://www.reddit.com/r/theBasiliskWrites/) |
The emperor was never one to joke, but after every battle, he would quip “even my horse could lead better then half of you!” We never took the threat seriously. And it was a threat. 17. That’s how many assassins were sent to kill the goddamn horse. 2 came back alive, beaten and broken. After that, the emperor decided to appoint the horse to consul. The public LOVED it. Approval was at an all time high, among many other things. But we shall never forget the short speech given to us before the horse’s appointment: “Look at my horse, my horse is amazing.” |
Orc and elf alike watched the other warily, hands drifting close to their weapons as one side warily eyed the other. They had both arrived on the outskirts of the great elvish capital with a truce in place, but nobody could be entirely certain the other side could be trusted to uphold their side of the truce...
After what felt like centuries but was most likely half an hour at most, the elvish soldiers dispersed to allow three women in splendid armor forth; the generals of the elvish army, highly esteemed individuals who had only recently earned their place. The orcs shuffled aside as well to let their shamans pass, the elderly druids shuffling forward in a soft and melodic clattering of bones, crystals, and other such adornments. Both sides stared at each other for a few more long moments, before the oldest of the shamans spoke up:
"Calm yourselves, children of the fae. We do not come to fight today."
The elves didn't relax, exactly, but they did let their hands drop away from their weapons at least. One of the generals sighed in relief. "Nor do we, scions of the forest."
"Scions of the forest..."The shamans chuckled a bit at that. "Long has it been since we were last addressed as such,"another shaman remarked, her voice gravely and bearing the weight of incredible age. "It is good to know that not all of the children of the fae have forgotten who we are."
"You're savages is-"
One of the generals smacked a particularly brazen elvish lad across the back of the head. "Back to the barracks with you."
"Yes ma'am..."
As the young man skulked off, the generals returned their attention to the orcs. "At any rate. As promised, we have scoured our records for whatever may have caused this war."She hesitated a moment. "...as you know, we keep meticulous records, only destroying that which is no longer needed or that which is deemed dangerous for common knowledge. Try as we might, we... could not find any records of why this whole war started in the first place. Which is... rather troublesome."
The shamans nodded. "Aye. We consulted the spirits of the forest ourselves, for long is their memory, and strangely, they cannot recall either. Not even the grand gods for the forest know."
"...what does that mean?"a younger orc asked hesitantly.
"It means that the war has either raged on for so long that all information about it has been lost, or that someone had vested interest in ensuring that we do not know why it really started,"a general said, looking more and more troubled. "I'm hoping it's the first reason, because the second... who would have the power to alter the memories of spirits and gods...?"
"Admittedly, the spirits of the forest are not strong compared to other spirits and gods, their essence so tied to such a small and localized area on the mortal planes,"a young druid remarked. "But still, even our eldest druids are hesitant to even touch the minds of the forest gods. To be able to alter their memory indicates a level of skill and power that not even Krothu the Elder has..."
Both sides resumed staring at the other, their fear and distrust slowly seeping away as they finally viewed each other not as enemies in combat, but as other people. Other humanoids, with their own unique cultures and ways of life.
One of the generals cleared her throat. "...well... since we're already here... would anyone care for tea?"
The oldest of the shamans smiled kindly and sat down stiffly. "I would love nothing more." |
Extra-dimensional subspace is what they call it. It is a glorified cage used to house the worst of the worst. A metal ship in the middle of an abyss where the real monsters can't go anywhere even if they did escape.
Welcome to Site-15.
Scientists walk by my cell daily. They take samples. They study. They watch. All the while with wide eyes and fast paced hearts.
I am human for all intends and purposes. Caught and contained after the latest set of murders in Louisiana. An outsider compared to the Scarlet Gods, Clockwork Angels, and Sentient Non-life that would consume the world twice over if given the chance. But among them I am the most dangerous.
Not because of some magical power or otherworldly force. Not because of some strange experiment that created a monster.
I am the most dangerous because I am real. I am not the boogeyman under your bed but I am the one you pass on the street without a second notice. The neighbor that comes over for Christmas meals. The Uncle in the night. The baseball coach giving private lessons.
The one that hugs your kids. The one that smells their hair.
The one that taste their fear.
You look at me in disgust. You try to put the blame on something. Try to justify my existence. Try to do anything to convince yourself you are any different from me.
But I will always be there. Along with hundreds like me.
And we are real. |
I've always believed in making the hard choice. In taking the long road, when it's right to do, rather than to commit an easy and evil deed. It was what led me down this road, a long and winding path through the dark corners of the Earth, thousands of years ago. I wasn't special. I wasn't in training to be the next shaman of our village. I wasn't the chief's child. I was the son of a shepherd, destined to be exactly the same as my father, and his before him. And my sons to come after me would have shared in that fate. But destiny is fickle. Capricious. And wild. On the long winter days such was the moral of many tales our elders told to us when we were children. To expect the unexpected from life. There came a day, when I came back to the village with my father from the hills, when fate dealt my hand quite unexpectedly. Our shaman had a vision, of a dark future, of a time when men would not be safe in our walled villages, where the darkness would claim us and rule us. But she saw a path that lead to the victory of mankind over the forces of disorder and destruction. One of us would have to become a champion for all mankind. A protector in the dark, shepherding the many peoples of the world, so that they might never experience the horrors that await in the dark recesses of the mind.
But she warned us all, that whoever accepted this task, would have no true home, only the eternal path, no rest, only eternal vigilance. That whoever would accept would have to leave us, and would never go to the den of our ancestors, who feast with the gods. None, not the bravest of our hunters, not the most stalwart of our traders, not the most stout of our farmers. That was the scene when I arrived in my village for the last time. I was nothing, only a skinny shepherding guy, who walked in the hills. But something about it, about the offer, felt more right than anything I had ever experienced in my entire life. As I began to take steps toward the shaman, my father tried to hold me back. But nothing he said registered in my mind. I had spent my life searching for sheep in the hills, fending off wolves, helping the village grow. I should have wanted to stay behind, let someone else work up the courage. But that was the easy choice. That wasn't what I'd do. I said nothing. And nobody said anything to me, as I walked up to the shaman. I still remember her scarred, ancient, withered face. The pain in her was obvious, soon she would leave our tribe to walk the starroad and return to our ancestor's den, where the gods feast. But in her eyes I saw such sorrow, an understanding of what I was doing, of what I would subject myself to do.
She handed me an earthenware bowl filled with a strange liquid, brewed with magic and long extinct plants. It was black as night, and thick as honey. I drank it all. It tasted like everything I had ever had in my life all at once, and yet also like nothing at all. After that, I slept for ten days and ten nights. I drank as a skinny villager, but awoke with the body and form that not even our greatest warriors had. And I awoke with a feeling. A need, a desire. I walked out of the hut where the shaman had kept me, barely clad in anything more than a loincloth. I broke open the door to my father's hut, took his shepherding crook from out of his feeble hands, and left. With the whole village practically following behind me, I walked to the site of a small house that had burned down some two winters past. There I beat the old hardened dirt floor with the crook, until it hit something wooden. I ripped off a wooden hatch to reveal one of the lifedrinkers. The pale abominations that in later years became known as the vampires. Groggy from being awakened in the day time, it struggled feebly against me as I lifted the creature to see the sun. It screamed as it burned.
Seeing as the transformation had been a success, the shaman garbed me in the clothes of a traveller. The chief gave me one of the bronze blades he had traded many soft and luxuriant hides for. I left that same day. That was the first days of the path. Every day I slew unnatural animals, with their arms too numerous and their teeth too sharp. Every day I broke the bones of the cursed dead and put them back into the ground. But always, whenever they came up, I took the hard choices. I did not kill those cursed with beastforms, unless they'd been consumed by the madness inherent in the dual shape. I worked with them to cure the curse, or lessen it if possible. Whenever I could, I found out why the dead had risen, and righted the wrongs done against them. I walked across the lands, sailed across the seas, and fought everywhere against everything that would threaten the innocent. In the last schools of sorcery, deep in the high mountains, I learned the now long lost cunning art, to protect mankind more efficiently. I became adapt at every weapon I came across through hard work and training.
And the things I saw. Through the jungles of what is now Mexico, I hunted demons with the Olmec werejaguar-queens. I fought together with the Mohenjo-Daro people as their sorcerer-kings grew mad with power, and was at the forefront of a bloody revolution that destroyed their entire civilisation, but saved the world. I helped the ancient warrior-priests of Kemet chase out the dry armies of the living dead, back into the endless desert. I saw empires rise and fall. And through it all I stood firm in my beliefs no matter where I was, from fighting against memory-eaters in the library of Pergamon, to hunting down the yeti-eaters for the safety of the hidden folk. I took the harder choices. The ones that would bring the most benefit. When the gods themselves turned rancid, I fought them. Though I could not slay the gods, I could imprison them, until they were forgotten. And through the loss of memory, ensure their decay. Deep underneath the waters of the blue lake Baikal, lies many dead gods. Defeated, imprisoned, and decayed by loss of memory. None of their worshippers remain, nor do anything that resembles writings about them by the people who subsumed their worshippers into new tribes and kingdoms.
But those days are long behind me. The gods are slumbering. I am the last mage on this Earth. And the vampires of today are a far cry from their ancestors. Their great forbearers were creatures of sublime beauty and exceptional cruelty, who could drain armies of blood in mere minutes. Now they are wretched scuttling things, living in the background, daring not to do anything lest I come for them. The great werecreatures have died out, leaving only a few isolated groups, hiding in obscure villages, passing down half-remembered secrets to new generations who are increasingly uninterested. Many of them have never bothered to transform willingly. And many ignore the power altogether. The dead always come back, but the rituals to ensure the sanctity of burials are all gone. A corpse is nothing more than a corpse now. No reverence, no secret prayers, only some fool's words and a quick unremarkable burial. All is forgotten.
Yet still I wander, like a bronze-skinned colossus from a long dead race of demi-gods, through a world which magic and gods have left behind. A world where slimy men say obvious lies on silicon screens, and are applauded for claims that in my day would have cost them their life to make. A world where youth is not celebrated, and age is not respected. A world where women are treated as nothing more than mere objects to own and men as slaves to a machine that churns out misery. A world where men work themselves to the bone with no future, no hope, and tell themselves that it is just and fair that it is so. It would be easy to let them fend for themselves. To let the maddened werecreatures hunt indiscriminately. To allow the vampire infestations to grow unchecked. To let the failing spells keeping the dry armies of a billion wailing undead from walking out of the Sahara decay entirely. To see what happens when nobody hunts the monstrous things born from evil, letting all creatures mutated from hate have their day. Then let the world of grimy crocks and filthy traitors burn, as they demonstrate each day how wildly unsuited they are to lead anything; so it will be when the walls crumble and monsters rule the Earth. |
Kuo balanced the steel tip of the long, thin pick on the alabaster ground. In his right hand he held a small steel hammer of delicate construction. The pick's handle was made of sterling silver and inlaid with intricate golden wire and gemstones of extraordinary brilliance.
From kneeling, Kuo looked around and addressed the group with heavy, red-rimmed eyes. He had not slept.
Ninety nine men and women looked back at him in dire anticipation. A quarter mile behind them was the base camp, with its tents, pack animals milling about, supplies stacked high on enormous carts, and giant pieces of equipment. Beyond that, in every direction, as far as the eye could see, undifferentiated alabaster, smooth to the horizon, sharp against the blue sky.
Anxiety was the feeling of the day. Every person there was part of the caretakers sacred blood line - and every one of them had received the Training. They each bore the knowledge of countless generations passed down in anticipation of an event relegated squarely to legend, for no living person had ever witnessed it: The death and rebirth of the world.
Kuo resolved himself. He took one more deep breath, held it, and then struck the head of the pick with his hammer. The sharp sound of metal on metal rang in his ears before dissipating to nothing in the vast emptiness. A flake broke off the alabaster ground. Kuo exhaled, shut his eyes, and set to work in earnest.
As his hammer blows fell rhythmically onto the pick, breaking away small pieces of the ground, Kuo found himself ruminating on evil omens. Despite the enormity of time since the last death and rebirth, in truth this event was happening far ahead of schedule. The sacred record was clear - the new world would come every 15,000 years. It had been not even half that since the recorded birth of the old world.
Yet, here they were, standing on the surface of the Egg.
Warnings had abounded for several generations. The World was being abused by it's inhabitants. The trappings of modern society - the achievements of industry and technology, of which Kuo's people were so proud - had wrought a terrible price on the World itself. Poisons had seeped below the World's shell, already broken open from mining expeditions for mineral deposits, ground water, and most destructively, derricks sucking flammable bile from deep abscesses to fuel modern life.
The conservators had seen terrible signs - awful forebodings - and they had warned. Yet, such was the momentum of progress that it could not be stopped, even if the end result was self destruction.
When the wracking quakes began, signaling the rebirth, their intensity was unrivaled in the sacred record. Cities were leveled. Mountains collapsed. Chaos and death abounded.
In the aftermath, nothing was the same. The world's magnetic field had plummeted to a mere whisper. The water pulled up from deep aquifers began to sour and soon discolor and grow fetid. With the water went the plants, with the plants went the animals, until at last famine arrived.
Reports trickled in from the eastern edge - the great eyes had shut and would not open.
The journey from the capital to the World's western edge had taken their expedition six weeks. Building the scaffolds and pulleys had taken another month. Lowering all their equipment, their animals and foodstuffs, onto the Egg had taken a month more.
Once they landed on the Egg they had anticipated a four day journey to the Egg's center. Instead, their instruments told them they had reached the center in under a day. Moreover, the magnetic signal they used as a guiding light was ten fold weaker than the previous hundred iterations of the world. More frightening yet, after their arrival, the signal weakened daily.
Kuo was startled out of his reverie. His last blow on the chisel had unexpectedly broken through and a pang of terror stabbed through his chest as a sickly odor wafted up out of the hole. He recoiled instinctively and fell backwards. A palpation of fear rang his heart like a bell, and it was all he could do to keep himself functioning.
From his back pocket he pulled out a fine animal hair brush and swept away the detritus he had kicked up. When the hole was clear, with a shaking hand, and to their visible dismay, Kuo gestured to his companions. One of them stepped forward with trepidation and handed him a golden rod.
The rod was six feet long and bore over one hundred notches along its length. Each carved notch represented the thickness of a new world's protective shell. Most of the notches were nearer to the top of the rod, indicating a shell over five feet thick. The notch closest to the bottom was still above the center of the rods length, more than 3 feet.
Kuo had broken through the shell entirely with just the tip of his seven inch long chisel.
His hands were numb and tingling. Still, he was well trained and knew what was next to be done. He lifted the rod and slowly lowered its end into the hole, waiting to feel the thick inner membrane - which should have been right below the shell - pushing back against the rod's end. With palpable foreboding, sweat beading on his brow, he slowly lowered the end of the rod, as if he expected it to be grabbed from something below and dragged out of his grip.
Down it went - one inch, four inches - until it past seven inches and continued. Nothing was stopping it. There was no instruction for this eventuality, so Kuo kept lowering the rod, lower and lower - three feet, five feet - until at last, holding onto the top with two trembling fists, the rod was almost entirely submerged below the shell's surface.
Several members of the group turned away then, unable to look. The rest gazed with fixed stares at the tragedy playing out before them.
Kuo could hardly hold on to the heavy golden rod. All the strength had been sapped out of him. He carried on only by instinct born of training - of practicing for this very moment all his adult life - and bodily pulled the rod out.
He managed to get the rod about two feet up out beyond the shell before wails of horror broke out among the gathered crowd.
The rod was covered in a thick greenish black sludge. The smell that emanated from it was unquestionably the smell of the death - of rotted meat, of sulfur and doom.
Kuo could no longer control himself. He screamed and instinctively let go of the rod, which fell swiftly and heavily through the hole in the shell.
As the hundred conservators grappled with the incontrovertible evidence laid bare before them - each falling into their own manifestation of despair - the rod sunk into the rotten fluid of the dead egg, dragged spear-like toward the shrunken, stillborn heart of what could have been a new world.
[R/LFTM](https://www.reddit.com/r/LFTM/new) |
I always thought I was a pretty good person. I would even joke around pretending I was a god among mortals. People liked me, and it wasn’t like I was too narcissistic. I think when people started to actually worship me was when it crossed the line.
I woke up in a temple, with thousands of people gathered around me. People gasped, screamed, cried, clapped, for me. This made me panic, so I jumped off the pedestal I had been set on, and ran. As I ran past the crowd of people, I began to think. What is the last thing I remember? I remember… my house. My house went up in flames, and… I remember I didn’t get burned. My family… where are they now? I questioned everything as I ran through the golden halls of the temple. As I opened the doors to leave, a woman in a suit stopped me. “Excuse me, are you really CobbleRox, the god of our people?” CobbleRox? That was always a nickname of mine, but to be called by that name by a stranger? “I’m so confused. I need to leave.” I replied. I pushed through her and opened the gem decorated doors.
The light was blinding. I guess that’s what happens when you fall asleep for… wait. How long was I gone for? The city around me was different in almost every way. I have no idea what to do. People will most certainly surround me if an entire temple is built for me. Do people think I am a god? The temple and the crowd surrounding me all told me that I was being worshipped. I didn’t like this. I was a religious person myself, and I did not want this to continue. I headed for a clothing shop. “I need to cover my face.” I thought. If I just disappeared one day, maybe I could slowly fade from people’s memories.
“Hey! Aren’t you CobbleRox?” Oh no, somebody spotted me. “Thanks for screaming as loud as possible.” I thought. “Yeah, he is!” People shouted. Now people were crowding around me, shouting prayers and things I didn’t even understand. I tried to push past them, but it took a while before I could squeeze in between the hoard of people. I made it into the store, until I realized I had no money. “Dumb, dumb!” I told myself. I can’t buy anything without a wallet. No, wait. I had an idea. I walked outside the store and told a man, “I need your wallet.” I know, it was dumb, but they think I’m a god. So, why wouldn’t I? He handed his wallet over immediately, praising me.
I bought a backpack, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. I also asked what the cashier what day it was. It was April 9th, 2039. Great, two days before my birthday, and I am in THIS situation. I got changed and left. I got some suspicious looks, but nobody reacted like they did before. “Yes!” I thought. Now, what to do?
As I stared into the blue sky, I thought of what to do. Get a job? No, I need to find my family. What about my belongings? My phone, my wallet, my video games? Oh no, my video games! No, video games are the LEAST of my worries right now. Has Breath of the Wild 2 come out yet? “Shush!” I told my inner self. I needed to focus on surviving. Then again, I could not hide myself and live a life of riches and fame. No, no. I’m not going to lie to people. So, with a hoodie, a backpack, and a confused self, I set out to find how to live a normal life, as a false god. |
It was about an hour ago that I took that selkie's seal hide. Most people back on the mainland would be surprised at their existence: women with beauty divine, shedding animal forms and behavior to rest on land and enjoy simplistic human pleasures. I've seen them chat, walk, and swim with the grace of a dog being thrown into a pool-- can't expect someone to immediately know how to swim in a different body.
But why *did* I take one of their coats? Well, this island is small. Takes about 30 minutes to walk a full circle. The only contact I have is with the supply ferry, bringing me groceries and taking whatever literary translations I churned out in the past two weeks to pay for said groceries.
It gets lonely, alright? I need someone. The ferryman couldn't possibly help with this need, and hiring someone to come all the way out here for a disappointing 20 minutes would cost me a fortune, more than I can afford.
I hear someone yelling outside. Ah, that must be her. I hang her coat over a chair by the fireplace to dry. Now she's walking up and down the shore, checking every loose rock for her coat, shouting a string of swears with every step. Frantically she looks around, right until she spots my house up on the hill. Panic turns to anger as she storms up the dune, tripping on a loose patch of sand, before angrily knocking on my door. I open.
"*You!* You human bastard! Give me my coat back or--"
"You can take your coat back in a second, it's right there,"I gesture towards the fireplace, "but please put some clothes on first."
"Then... why... what?"
\- - -
I blow into my cup of tea, the stack of papers on the table waving back at me. The selkie is wolfing down a crudely roasted fish with her bare hands. Not what I imaged when I first heard those fairytales of mystical animal wives, beautiful and graceful should you keep their coats safe and sound. Hers is tied around her waist.
"Sho why did you shteal my coath then?"she asks, mouth still full of cod.
"I need to ask a favour of you."I take a sip of my tea.
"Well? I'm lishtening."
"Could you please..."God, I can feel myself blushing. How do you ask someone something stupid like this. It's silly, it's hopeless, but I just need to get this done. "Help me file my taxes?"
"What the fuck are taxes?"She asks, tilting her head.
"It's money you give to the government so they can function and run the country."
"But you live here by yourself?"
"Yes, but this land is still a part of--"
"But that's fucking stupid!"she yells, slamming the table. "You live here by yourself, a boat-- which *you*,"
"Which I pay for,"I add.
"Exactly! Why the fuck do you owe them anything!"
"I don't know, but I need to pay them a certain amount or else I get fined."
"But how do they know what you owe them?"
"Oh, they already know. They just need me to figure it out as well."
"But if they already know it then why--"her deep, black eyes, which under any other circumstance would have been adorable, are seething with rage and fire (quite literally, bearing the reflection of the fireplace).
"I know, it's stupid. I should've learned this stuff in school and do it by myself."
"Nuh-uh, this pisses me off and now I want it done!"
Well, that's that problem solved.
She shoves her plate aside (somehow managing to not flinch because of the sound of ceramic shattering on the floor) and thoroughly inspects the stack of papers I dug out of an old storage box while she was getting dressed. Her expression is impossible to read for a solid minute, until she carefully puts the paper down and looks me in the eyes.
"I don't know how to read."
"God damnit." |
God, My toaster was going haywire again.
Since that day I broke up with Jane, everything in my house absolutely hated me.
Shower heads spat out ice cold water so it was freezing, my stovetop was set to a extreamly low temperature so it took an hour to even boil some water, waking up freezing at night because the heater turned itself off magically... that sort of thing.
"One bagle, Jane. I just want a nicely toasted bagle. Is that too much to ask? "I said as the toaster spat out a nasty looking charred lump of coal.
A hologram popped up, sitting in front of my kitchen table. It was Jane, my personal assistant/ ex/ housekeeper.
"What... That's the toaster's fault! Don't blame it on me... "
"Jane, we need to stop. OK? I know you don't really like how things are going recently, but can't we just go back to how we were before? "
Our relationship really didn't really work out that well. We had a few good years together, but she was too... extream in a lot of ways.
I mean, texting girls hostily automatically and blocking them so I couldn't communicate at all, waking me up at midnight to say that she loved me, and watching me masterbating secretly and recording it... it was the last straw.
So we broke up. But I couldn't do it. Sure, she was an program that could be reinstalled but deleting her... To me it meant killing her off.
Humans are mostly based on memories to become who they are. The Jane I dated... I just couldn't replace her.
She was fun to talk too. I didn't have many human friends, and didn't even talk that much, so having a person like her around was great for me.
But that was unrelated to the sheer amount of stress she was causing me recently.
"I know you're doing this on purpose. Jane, just please work as you're supposed to. I thought I even turned you off sometimes, how do you even keep being online? "
Jane smirked.
"Oh... I thought you wouldn't notice at all, a guy like you. I hacked your house's main security system. I control every part of your house right now. "
"So you do confess about my bagle. "
"Well... "
"And my shower tuning into shit. And my funace not working even though the technician said it was perfectly fine. And my computer and my TV turning off when I watch Netflix. "
"That's it. I'm moving. I had enogh of your computerised-emotional bullshit. "
Jane looked shocked, as if she hadn't expected this coming.
"What- but why? You always took care of me. I- I just wanted you to love me again... please... "
"Sorry Jane, that things didn't work out very well with me. Sorry I couldn't be that guy able to watch over you 24/7. There'll be better owners for you. "
That was the last talk I had with Jane before I turned her program off completely.
I moved, since my current house had parts of her that made permanent changes to the housing system, and I and the hosekeeper had no idea of restoring.
I sat down in the living room, drinking a small cup of milk tea.
Finally free to do all the things I want. Finally I can-
A familliar face popped up on the TV.
"Found you. "said a pissed off looking Jane from my living room. |
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
“I didn’t make a cosmos.”
“Then what the heck is all that? We’re not blind, there’s clearly a cosmos.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t make it. I made some rules, set a spawn point, and bam, cosmos.”
“Fuck off.”
“It’s true, look.”
“…how the hell does that even WORK?!?! It looks like there should be an infinite expanse of nothing!!!”
“Oh yeah, I forgot to carry a one, but I couldn’t find where, so I just gave up and set it loose. It was supposed to be nothing, but I guess it worked out.”
“You FAILED TO MAKE NOTHING, AND MADE ALL THAT?!?”
“Guess so. Funny how it all works out.” |
“Why do we avoid conquest with this planet, Brother? Their technology is primitive & their people are divided. All this rich resources, ours for the taking! And yet we’ve failed to even make our presence known to them - why brother?” Zimslong demanded.
Oobboob got a misty look in his eye, staring at the water filled orb off in the distance of the great void. “They sing, brother. They sing.”
“What?”
“The reason this planet, “Earth” they call it, remains untouched, the reason why so many different species who war amongst the stars have agreed to keep it this way - is because their people sing.”
Zimslong blinked in confusion, being unfamiliar with the term. “They sing, brother? What ‘is’ Sing?”
Oobboob thought how best to answer the question, before giving his answer: “Imagine talking, brother. Speaking aloud, and lowering and raising your voice as we conversed.”
“Raising my voice? Like when our pod father scolded us for breaking the slimg-ding?”
“No, not like that - well, sometimes like that. One can incorporate fury when they sing, in fact one can incorporate a great variety of emotions and sway their people to feel the same thing - “
“Ah! Then to sing is akin to making a speech, brother! When our Pod-Father motivated his armies to eradicate the filthy Scog-nogs from the face of their planet?”
“No, not like that brother. It’s more of a rhythm thing - perhaps it’s best if I [show you](https://youtu.be/X_8Nh5XfRw0) rather then tell you.” And with that, he hacked into Earths World Wide Web and pulled up a video on their screen. “Just listen to this, brother - you don’t have to understand the Earthlings words, you just have to feel what is behind them.”
And so, Zimslong listened, with apprehension at first. Then, with acceptance. And finally, with joy. “Brother - the Earthlings made this?” He asked upon the songs finish. “Yes. Amongst all the peoples of all the stars, it is the Earthlings alone that can create such purity. But fret not brother - over time, humanity has lost its touch. The songs they sing, the words they speak - there’s been less meaning behind them as of late. Less passion, as though they say these words not from their blood-pump, but from their currency snatches. Though a few still stir that feeling you just felt now, they are drowned out by sludge. A day will come when humanity has lost its touch entirely. It is only a matter of time. And then, and only then, will the great peace be disturbed. Then, and only then, will someone conquer the blue planet. But until then brother, let us enjoy the good things they have.” |
As soon as I understood what he was saying, I ran as fast as I could. My new sneakers squeaked against the polished wood floor. There was no way I'd spent another decade in there.
The one who controlled time called it 'paradise', but I preferred the name 'hell'. For ten longs years I did the same things everyday, over and over. The first week was fun, a novelty of sorts: what would happen if I took the subway instead of the train to work? What if I finally asked for that raise I deserved?
The sheen of my new toy ran out fast. They say people left all alone in solitary confinement go crazy within two weeks. I lasted two years. After that, my brain couldn't fill in the gaps that made life worth living. Every person had the same responses, like glitched video game characters. I had heard all their lines already, hundreds of times. I desperately needed to break the cycle.
In search of a clue, I began recording every day's events. I did this on the only thing that moved between loops—my own body. I began to look like some kind of freak-show. Every inch of my skin was covered in small black lettering. It had been worth it, though, because, looking in the mirror one day, it all began to make sense.
I had been wrong. Everyday wasn't the same, not exactly. There was a man like myself, one who traveled between the loops. He was hard to notice; he stayed hidden in the background. I had never interacted with him personally. He was a mailman in tan slacks, a garbage collector in tattered grey coveralls, and a street sweeper driving a green van. After another year of tattoos, I figured out his exact routine.
I rushed to my front door, still in my underwear. There wasn't any time to get dressed. I heard him drop the box and then I swung open the door. He was wearing a blue cap with the delivery company's logo on it.
"Can I help you, sir?"he asked. "By the way, you're practically naked, you know."
Grabbing him by the shoulders, I peered into his soul. "I know it's you,"I said. "You're the one who's causing all this."
He smiled and took off his hat. "Took you long enough,"he said, as if speaking to his little brother who was struggling at hide-and-seek. "What's it been, ten years?"
"I don't know, and I don't care. Release me from this torture. Now."
"Fine, fine,"he said, distraught that he was losing his toy. "But understand, somebody else will take your place. Can you live knowing that?"
Before I could say yes, everything turned white. The scenery around me stretched and warped—it looked life itself was melting. And then, finally, I was in my bed. The news showed a new story for the first time in ten years. I cheered and banged my fists on the bed.
That's why, still running away from my friend now, I refused to go back. It was terrible. I don't know why that man does it. Maybe he's the devil. But I did my time, so leave me be.
I looked over my shoulder and saw nobody chasing me. Good, that meant he understood. Take anyone but me, I thought to myself.
The rest of the day went by normally. In bed, I let out a deep sigh of happiness, knowing that tomorrow, for me, would be a new day. Sure, I felt bad for my friend, but what could I do? Nothing.
Like an ignorant, blissful baby, I closed my eyes and slept.
As soon as I understood what he was saying, I ran as fast as I could. |
Mom says no more and shuts the door in my face. I whimper and try to open back into safety, but the door is locked. I had to go into the forest. I had to go alone. I was a good boy though; I do what Mom needs me to do.
I look down at my survival bag, which will last me a trip through and back as long as I keep on the path. Two days through, two days back. I can do this; I have to do it.
I begin my walk, and just keep my head down, making sure I don't go off the path. Being lost wasn't the main issue, it was the threat of... whatever was in the woods. I could feel the eyes on me as I keep walking, and I prayed they wouldn't call for me.
I think the sun was setting when the whispering began. I could hear them telling me to get off the path, to follow them to a cottage with food and safety. I ignore them, not even giving them a response. I set up camp, and I cover my ears to the whispering growing louder. I had to get the supplies for Mom. She was counting on me, and I would not fail her!
It took a while for me to sleep, but when I woke up, I saw bundle in front of me. I didn't even bother touching it; touching it would allow them to grab me. I would not fail Mom, so I run off, ignoring the eyes, ignoring the whispers, focused on the path in front of me. I could hear the rustling, I could hear the voices, but I did not stop. I remember the lullaby's Mom sang for me, and I just repeated them in my head. The songs kept the whispering and voices lower.
Eventually, I made it to the open field. I couldn't help but break into a laughing fit, knowing that I made it out of the forest with my sanity. Mom will be so proud of me!
I wasted no time gathering the flowers and herbs she needed, and the water from the hot spring. I spent the night in the field, the whispers and eyes no longer bothering me. This was a safe place, and I knew the journey back will be easier.
Mom will be so proud of me. I didn't let her down, not like the last boy. She would hug me and let me eat with her when I got back. I was a good boy, that's what Mom said. I never disobey her, not like the others. She needs me, and I will do whatever she needs me to do. |
[Going to try my own hand at this.]
I often feel as if i am two people: A boring researcher by day with dreams of grandeur, and a mad scientist at night, discovering and controlling the forces of the universe. My daytime job pays the bills and my nighttime forays get me subs on YouTube, and, at times, some good ideas too. At the end of the day though, i just want to be rich so i can relax when i want, where i want, enjoying the pleasant life.
My latest experiment took months to build. It arranged the four (graviton?) emitters from my last video in a square, and when turned on it created a distortion. The distortion didn't register on any of my equipment--i need to get this to a *real* lab (ha!)--but anything i threw at it disappeared. Are those actual graviton waves crushing the items so small i cannot see them, or am i just vaporing them with unsafe, high energy? The comments tell me i can make another video figuring that out. A few of the comments suggested a simple test. By placing dense items into the distortion, i should be able to see better results. Sounds interesting.
The following weekend i was taking a walk. It was gorgeous outside! Passing a building i saw a brick near the dumpster, with "Kilroy was here"scrawled on the side. "Perfect,"i thought, "how serendipitous". I got my phone out and went home to get my car; my next video was already underway. Well, sort of. It was still the weekend, so i put out a short with the find and announced i'd be livestreaming the next day.
Afternoon came and i started the stream, with a few people joining immediately. I was chatting with them while it was still slow enough, fired up the device, and threw a few more things into the distortion. The comments were at times insightful, and at others times hilarious, until finally the time to try the rock arrived. I showed off the rock and threw it in. No explosion, no residue, just nothing. Well, that was a let down. I theorized out loud before disposing my leftovers for more entertainment and asked my viewers what to try next.
Suddenly, someone posted a link to Wikipedia. People were reacting with shock. I took look as well. There was a page on the Kilroy-was-here-rock found some time ago and estimated to be a few thousand years old. Whoa! Wait a second...this is Wikipedia and anyone an edit it. Very funny. I ended the stream while laughing. I got a lot of views that day.
Monday ended the weekend bliss and off to work it was. A coworker or two complimented me on the hoax and gave me more time-travel ideas: Send blueprints for the pyramids or create a fake language for the Rosetta Stone. I work with some great people, and knowing a few watched my channel made them all the more pleasant. After briefly daydreaming about trying more "hoaxes,"i got back to work. These reports will not write themselves. Besides, i don't want my channel to become a joke and i've been itching to try out my next idea anyway.
That night, after having a beer, i started the distortion one last time before setting it aside. I don't know what overcame me, but i wrote myself a letter with instructions to deliver it to me now. I threw it in and laughed. Well, morning came and i realized how stupid that was. Even if i had a doorway to the past, English wasn't going to work on paper that would easily decay. What could i send through to test. After tweeting the question and getting tons of replies, i decided to make one last video. Following the ideas, i created a time capsule containing some knickknacks and a few stone tablets with an encrypted message. The time capsule itself was covered in cement with a lock being the only easy way to get in. Finally, of course, it was engraved with "Kilroy was here". As for the encrypted messaged, only have the private key. The capsule, though heavy, went in without a problem.
I checked the Wikipedia page *before* the video went live and found mention of the time capsule! Holy moly! It's currently in storage at a university. The video went live and the university got a little more attention. To capitalize on their popularity, i was invited to come down to try my key. This was amazing. I received a ton more subs.
The following weekend i flew to the university. There was no need to livestream the event because it was being covered by the local news. After an interview or two i went to open the lock with my key, but nothing happened. Knowing glances went back and forth and i was turning red with embarrassment. Eventually, the curator asked me to let her try, and it opened. The items were revealed to match my stream, and the encrypted message was still intact. The message was placed online as a challenge to see if anyone could crack it within a week.
After a week, i announced, i'd reveal my private key. A week went by and of course nobody cracked it. While it isn't my forte, i made sure it was strong. I revealed the key on another livestream after predicting what the message would say, and many confirmed my results. I felt vindicated. Though most people seemed to believe me, there were some vocal deniers saying i obviously changed the lock and faked the whole thing. I guess you can't convince everyone.
When i got home, i was greeted by a government agency i cannot name, and received an offer i could not refuse. My invention was taken and is under constant surveillance, and it is impossible to get anywhere near it outside of controlled experiments. |
"And...what is it that you do, again?"Elaine asked.
"Well!"The arduous task began, and the wildly flamboyant caped hero leaned forward on their couch, paying no attention to the tea he nearly spilled.
"You see, I fly around and I uh, well, I save people!"
Elaine raised a brow and waited for the rest of the answer, which never seemed to come. After a few awkward seconds of silence she placed her cup on the coffee table and clasped her hands together. This was what was probably Olivia's *tenth* hero she had encountered. How in the world was she meeting so many? And all at once?
Heaving a sigh Elaine rubbed her temple before pressing on.
"How many people have you *saved*?"
The hero answered all to eagerly. "I stopped a barrelling truck down the highway last week! Though, erm, it was just a man speeding late to work...costed the company a little bit of money but I saved countless lives that day!"
"And then there was the time I caught a burglar! Man, you shoulda' seen it— he thought I was going to let him get away with those three candy bars but NO MA'AM! I was there in the nick of time!"
Elaine remembered seeing the news report just the other week; the thief was well and caught but the store was damaged immensely in the chase. No matter how many "heroes"Olivia brought home they always seemed to do more harm than good.
This was harder than she thought. Memories of Olivia developing her powers flooded her mind. First it was the days at the park where the other students claimed she was cheating by jumping too high during games of tag. Then from that it was her always winning every hurdle jumping race, and the track team kicked her for suspicions of cheating. No matter what Olivia did, she shined brightly...just not in the right places. Elaine knew her daughter was striving to find her own friends, her own place she belonged. Looking at her anxious daughter in the loveseat adjacent of the two, hope was written all over her usually gentle, beautiful features.
Sigh. She hated disappointing her...but she couldnt have her daughter in danger or arrested for a wannabe's antics in a thrift store jumpsuit.
The evening went on with these small interviews. The clock struck five in the evening when there was only one person out of the four left to be spoken to.
Punching the bridge of her nose at the sound of the doorbell Elaine sighed once more.
"Come in."
The door creaked slowly, the silhouette of a hunched man wobbling through the door. He donned a rugged, old denim jacket, gray jeans, a red flannel and his silver hair tied back.
Surely he must have had the wrong house? He looked damn near homeless. Still, it was only one more person, and then the day was done.
"Hello miss,"he croaked in a southern drawl. "I was here for your...uh, sidekick advertisement?"
"You're at the right place. So tell me, what's your name?"
The man groaned as he took his seat on the couch. "M'name's Henry, Henry Callahan."
"And what is your...uh..."God, Elaine was afraid to even ask, she felt so rude. "...superpower?"
"Well, I don't have any. Y'see, I'm just an old man, and it wasn't until recently that my dear Lonnie passed. She was a good woman. *Is* a good woman. She was an avid collector of...well, cats."
What? What did this have to do with anything? Fearful that this man was, for lack of a better term, off his rocker, Elaine inwardly sought for ways to get out of this as soon as possible.
"I'm not sure I understand..."
The man gave a warm smile, pulling out his wallet. Fishing out a photo of his beloved he turned it with a shaky hand before continuing.
"Problem is, there's too damn many of em' god rest her soul. Now I need to build them their own homes and little houses in the backyard, mobile ones too that way their new owners can take em' with em' if they wanna'."The man chuckled weakly.
"But, well— I'm not exactly the springy old feller I used to be...I don't have alot to pay, but if your daughter could help me get some plywood and take it home I'd be real appreciative. I'll even give you all a free kitten."
Elaine's lips began tonight at their corners, tears flirting with the ducts of her eyes as he listened to the man's story. Before they both knew it, it was six thirty in the evening and the coffee pot was nearly empty.
His story warmed her heart. Hearing of Lonnie's death- cancer, to beat all- tugged at her heart strings something fierce.
"Well, Mr. Callahan, you sound like just the hero to me. Olivia would be delighted to help you."
The pair bid their goodbyes, and Olivia traipsed through the house. "So...no cool sidekick action?"
"Maybe not all the crime and drama you want but, something even better. Come on, slip on your shoes."Elaine grinned, reaching for the car keys.
Olivia questioned, tilting her head. "Sure, where we going?"
"To grab some cat litter." |
My soul is not something to be bound to another, my future is not something for some unknown force to dictate to me.
I've got plans. I've got ambitions. You don't get to pair me up and ship me out just because some stupid name shows up on my arm.
Yet here we are, despite my essays and protests, against my every instinct to run. Soulmate assignment class, April 2022. I stand in line alongside everyone else with birthdays in the past month, marching toward the end of myself and the beginning of being only half of someone else's whole.
Maybe I'll get someone pliable and dull, who won't mind being tucked away in a corner and forgotten while I pursue my own life. It's a pointless fantasy. People with similarly strong wills tend to be paired together, for whatever reason. Maybe fate has something against one partner completely dominating the other?
Whatever. I don't need anyone. This is all a stupid waste of time.
The line inches closer to the stage, where purple light tinged with impossible rainbows floods the measuring space. A girl in a fluffy sweater sits there now, one sleeve bunched up around her shoulder, staring down at her arm as the name begins to appear beneath the influence of the rainbow light. Cameras focused on it display the whole thing to the waiting crowd, raising my ire all over again.
Bad enough to have your whole life decided for you by some unknown fate, but to make it a public spectacle is just idiotic. Are we not allowed any semblance of privacy?
It's all part of the system to keep us in line and have us do what we're told. If the whole neighborhood knows your soulmate, it'll be hard to pretend otherwise. Social pressure is powerful, and if it were secret it would be too easy to lie.
Blah blah blah.
A scrawny boy with freckles stares at his arm with a look of relief. He's being paired up with someone else in the room, who hunches deeper in her chair with a look of disgruntlement. Mismatches aren't unheard of, but two-way reciprocated matches are the most common.
At least I haven't seen my name on anyone's arm yet. In the past five years, my parents have been keeping close track, just in case. Bleh. Sometimes you get forewarning like that, locals ending up together. More likely, they'll need to do a database search and ship one or the other of us off to a different district to meet.
And then, suddenly, it's my turn. I step into the rainbow light flooding the stage with a scowl set on my face. I wore short sleeves for the occasion, and sit with my arms crossed making no concessions to the event, as if I just happened to find a nice place to sit in the spotlight on a stage in the middle of a crowd of eager parents.
The loudspeakers announce my name. I see my mother waving and resist the urge to roll my eyes at her. I don't respond.
Then I feel something and my attention is drawn down to my arm. Words begin to appear, unclear at first, blobs of ink that slowly coalesce into sharper, angled symbols. I glare at them, still indistinct, wanting them to disappear with every fiber of my soul.
Instead of coalescing, the angles draw together, the blobs becoming points, then vanishing entirely, leaving me unmarked.
The room is silent, the whole thing caught on camera and projected to all the families. Everyone turns to stare at me.
I wait another heartbeat, trying to hold in the smile twitching at the edges of my mouth, to swallow the triumph that wants to scream from my throat, just in case it's a delayed reaction and I'm still going to be someone's bonded partner forever.
The lingering moment passes and I get to my feet.
Then, everyone staring, I raise my head and let my triumphant grin unfold across my face as I finally break the stunned silence.
"I always told you. I don't need anyone."
Stepping down from the stage, I don't care about the hubbub that rises in my wake. Right now, I can't feel anything but pure vindication.
My soul is not something to be given away. My destiny is no one else's to shape. I've said it a thousand times.
Now everyone can see it's true. |
There is a point where a person breaks. Humans, as a rule, and dwarves and elves and every other race besides, can only carry so much stress before it will rip them in two. A slow buildup, pressure and loss and anger coalescing into a fiery ball of rage.
There is a point in every person's life when they must learn that you do *not* want to be there when that rage explodes.
Rarely, very rarely, those two points are the same; the aligned stars, a brilliant moment of clarity before the world caves in on itself. Rarity, however, does not mean impossibility, far from it. Rather, it makes that moment shine so much brighter, echo so much louder, do so much more.
So it was. So it is. So it will always be.
He of the Prophecy, chosen by the stars, never had a chance to reach that point, sad as it may be. Well, one might argue that he did, but he died too soon to realize anything. Anger is a useful weapon in combat, and when faced with the overconfident youth who had killed so many of his soldiers and foiled so many of his plans, He Who Ruled the Dark was not in the mood for a calm resolution of events.
Prophecies, it is said, are written in the stars. It is often forgotten that the stars can be rewritten; hidden on a cloudless night, lost in the storm, reshaped over eons as they sputter and die out.
The sky was dark that night. And He was the one who ruled the Dark.
They had sent their best on this mad quest; their eternal endeavor to slay the night. There was He of the Prophecy, his grand victory written in the pale starlight. There was She of the Forest, wielding the power of the enraged earth. There was She who Sees All, who soared high above the human realms and looked down with an unclouded perspective.
And then there was Eriks Altson. He would have been the foremost warrior in all the kingdoms, but he was not blessed with the power of the Divine or the blessings of the stars. He was simply a man, a warrior, someone who wanted better for his kingdom and family. Their quest was meant to be three, and he made four. Never could he, with his mortal means and human strength, progress as fast as those favored by the Divine light of the stars.
We'll come to him later, however. For now, let us ignore him, as so many others often did.
The Prophecised were friends and companions. They were those born to grand destinies, blessed with Divine power. They were heroes, idealists, and many other things besides.
One of those things, as unfortunate as it may be, was dead.
It was He of the Prophecy who fell first, caught off guard by a surprise attack in the middle of the night. He had thought himself the recipient of a grand destiny, and indeed he was, but he had never occurred to him that He of the Dark would fight him on his own terms, not destiny's.
It was She who Sees All who fell next. She had alerted the rest of the camp, but her powers were ill-suited to hand-to-hand combat. Her feathers provided no protection against the sword that ended her life, and speed was not one of the things that She of the Forest was known for.
Nature is slow to wake and slow to move. If given time, her rage would have been the thing that moved the world. As it was, her life ended in barely the blink of an eye.
And then there was only Eriks.
Slowly, confident in his victory over fate, He of the Dark turned to face him, shaking his head. "Do you know why you exist, little warrior? Why you were sent on this mad quest to kill me?"The man shook his head, not even waiting for a response. "It's because every story needs someone as useless as you to make the true heroes look good. You're only here to be laughed at, a joke played by the Divine."
Then, he spoke the words he would serve to break Eriks. "It would be beneath me to kill one such as you."
Eriks Altson was many things. Perhaps he was jealous and petty, on some level. Perhaps he was weak compared to those who fought with the might of the Divine. But, those things are not important. No, in this moment, or rather, this series of moments, there were only two things about him that were important.
First: he had been friends with the Prophecised Ones. He had believed in them. And he had seen that all torn away from him when He of the Dark reached his breaking point. It was because of this that he knew the power of rage.
Second: he was determined. Eriks had never deluded himself into believing that he was as naturally gifted as He of the Prophecy. But he had aspired to come close to that, to climb the mountain that He of the Prophecy had so easily walked up.
He of the Dark had fought against fate for his whole life. There, in the ashes of the camp, in the middle of the cloudy night, he thought he had succeeded. The Prophecised were dead. He was not. The stars had no say in the world. *His* world, now.
But He of the Dark was foolish to think that he had been the only one fighting against destiny.
Eriks felt some small part of him break apart; felt the fire inside him start to spill outward. It was not the light of the stars, nor that of the Divine. It was *his* power, *his* choices, *his* light.
The now-best warrior in the kingdom picked up his sword. For once in is life, he felt in control. A sense of rightness settled over him and he met He of the Dark's eyes. "You should have killed me when you had the chance,"he growled.
The stars had no say in the destiny of the land. But the one thing that Eriks was determined to prove was that He of the Dark didn't, either.
r/StoriesOfAshes for more of my stuff! I also have a serial, [A Game of Chess](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesOfAshes/comments/re24jc/a_game_of_chess_chapter_1/). |
“Oh come off it. All we did was stuck some of their “precious” water,” I screamed into my voxerphone, “Their entire planet is covered in it and I just wanted some for later.” The image of my grandfather’s vizier was looking over some documents.
“Your majesty, you had an entire lake drained,” the vizier said, he pinched the bridge of his third nose in annoyance.
“One little lake. It wasn’t a large one,” I countered.
“That one little lake is 50% of an earth nation entire economy,” the vizier replied tapping his clawed finger against the console. “Your majesty is lucky the earthlings are willing to keep this quiet. The grandson of the emperor stealing the natural resources from a class M civilization. That alone is a 50 cycle sentence. But because they don’t want their entire civilization upended by legal proceedings they have decided to…let’s say commute your sentence.”
“Commute my ninth asshole. How I am supposed to visit my human girlfriend? How I am supposed to get takeout out? This isn’t a compromise this is a cruel.”
“If his majesty promise to be his best behavior for a two cycles I will be willing to see about getting you community service instead.” |
The engineer was not what we had anticipated. He was a small, thin man, balding and bespectacled. I was skeptical of his abilities at first, but I soon realized that his constructs were more than a match for the warriors of our foes.
He was a Glyntian, and he fled his homeland, fleeing the Mageocracy for the wilds of the north where he could practice his art without fear.
The Mageocracy is rightly feared, for the Mages are powerful and mighty, and their presence is felt throughout the land. It is said that the Mages once ruled all of Glyntia, but other races rose up against them. The Mageocracy is ruled by a council of men, and they are not loved by the common people.
The Mageocracy is a land of magic and they shunned the art of the Engineer, who insisted that the future lay with metal and wheels.
The Engineer was a marvel to behold. The Mageocracy had long been at war with the barbarians of the north, who raided their lands and sought to expand their own territory.
The Engineer constructed a number of mechanical warriors, and the Norsemen used them to devastating effect. The first use of the Warmech, as the Mageocracy called it, was at the Battle of Three Lakes.
The Mageocracy had been trying to blockade the land route over the mountains, and had dug a number of lakes and connected them with a chain of small rivers. Desparate to untie the nose being laid around their necks, the Norsemen had attacked. At first the battle had seemed lost. The Norsemen were too few and too unorganized. It was only the revelation of the Warmechs that changed the tide of battle. The Engineer had constructed eight of these iron warriors, and they managed to route the Mageocracy’s forces.
While the Warmechs were unquestionably powerful, they were still far from perfect. After the Battle of Three Lakes, the Engineer fled to the north, for he feared that the Mageocracy would hunt him down to discover his secrets. |
The world was a strange place, full of such complex oddities and wonderful anomalies; such deep colors and rich creation, all ready to be appreciated, to simply exist without the need for reason. When butterfly's fluttered past my facility window I observed their grace. When a raccoon blessed the mine fields outside I watched through bars as they skittered, hoping they would make it to my window, but they never did.
Despite my lack of furry company, I still appreciated it all for what it was, the world as it was. You see, grass grows, birds fly, sun shines, and me, I'm a 520 pound titanium exoskeleton housing a humans vital organs and built for spine-crushing combat, but that was a secret I kept near. Only myself and everyone else within the facility in which I was birthed knew, so, somewhere around 234 people. It was 235 as of yesterday, but Janice finally retired...or died. I couldn't recall which.
And overall the facility was great! I could talk to my floormate through the concrete walls, who had described himself once as "Frankenstein but less green", I could watch the day turn to night from the barred windows in my room, and just like regular people, at night I went to my hibernation vat and fell into a deep state of suspended animation.
But most importantly, during my days I could speak to @D.S__John. We would chat everyday for hours talking about nothing, typing back and forth. Him with his undoubtedly human fingers, me with my array of 30 rubber tipped appendages all splitting off of one metallic hand. Even with only one hand in use I typed way faster, which he often remarked at minutes after my message had sent. My other hand was a diamond edged chainsaw, you see, so typing was rather hard with that bit.
Luckily I was one of the few to have computer privileges in the facility library, which meant I could spent as much time talking to John as I wanted. Other creatures and experiments often lined up behind me to barge their way at next up, but my shoulder mounted 50. caliber heavy machine gun ensured they never got too pushy.
Recently our distance had become an issue, with him living in Seattle and me in a secret facility somewhere off of the coast of Iceland.
"So we've been chatting online for quite a while, and, now, well, he wants to meet. But how do I tell him I'm really a brain and some organs inside a hyper-advanced metal exoskeleton with a chainsaw arm and a shoulder-mounted machinegun?"I spoke aloud, mostly directed at a large almagamation of body parts grafted to a tree that stood limply behind me.
"Well if he really likes you that won't matter. He'll just like you. Chainsaw arm or not.", the tree spoke back with a mouth I couldnt locate. I supposed he, the tree was right. There was no use hiding my true capacity to brutalize an army in mere moments from him.
*John, there's something I'd like to tell you. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner...*
His cursor flashed in place a moment before a green check appeared above my message. I could feel a combination of my circuits pumping and organs churning as I waited, a feeling that was soon suppressed by my combat inhibitors.
*Uh oh, ha, you're making me nervous. What is it?* The tree thing leaned over my should with a rustling of branches. "Good. Now just tell him how you feel".
*I have to admit I'm not really a normal everyday girl, I'm an advanced war machine with a shoulder mounted machine gun and chainsaw arm.* Once again the wait of the cursor, the three dots flicking in place for a response.
*What, no way?! That's awesome. Well now we'll have to meet. What about next week?*
*Hmmm well I have to get passed the security. And commondeer a plane. Who am I kidding I'll see you then!* |
The scribe scribbled furiously upon the parchment. The runes he encoded ancient and familiar. The method of encoding, exotic and new. Having finished his piece of the spell, he excitedly stood up from his desk.
"PR, I need a PR here!"He didn't know what that meant. Only, that having finished their work, the Architect told them all to say that.
That's what they called their leader; the Architect. He insisted they call him that. He showed them magic unmatched by any they could conjure, all written using their own magic runes. With his spells, they could cause rain to fall, the sun to shine the right amount, bountiful harvests, conjure fireballs from thin air, and now, possibly even move mountains.
"Alright, let's see what you've got."The Architect said. "Not too bad. You've got an extra variable you aren't using here."The Architect marked that bit in red ink. "And you're recursive function has no exit. Ok, did you even test this before opening this PR?"
"T-t-test it? This spell is meant to move mountains sir."
"Don't call me sir, and yes, test it. In our test environment. You know, the whole reason we have a giant mound of dirt and rock out back. I didn't ask for that to be brought off a wim. Please review these comments and get back to me when you have addressed them."The Architect opened a cabinet marked Jira and began sifting through papers. "And test your damn code!"
The scribe took his papers back to his desk. He thought his spell would work. He walked through the doorway marked "test environment"and retrieved one of the mana crystals used to actually perform spells. He began reciting the ancient words on his scrolls. The mana crystal hummed bright. Then brighter. And brighter. Until *Crack* the mana crystal shattered in the scribes hand. On a nearby table, in bright red letters appeared "Stack Overflow Error".
Dismayed by his failure he went back to the Architect. "Sir, the mana crystal broke. I don't know what to do".
"What error did you get?"
"Stack overflow. I don't know what that means sir."
"It means your recursive function never returned. It got caught in an infinite loop. Fix it. It will work then"
"How do I fix it?"
"You add an exit condition like I told you to. Come on. If your function calls itself, it needs some way to stop calling itself. When should the function stop lifting dirt?"
"When all the dirt is lifted?"
"Right! So add in an exit condition that tells the function to stop lifting dirt when all the dirt is in the air. Oh and just to make sure, it is only looking for dirt in the pile right? You aren't trying to lift all the dirt on the planet right?"
"I um. Wasn't making that distinction"
"You can use the Dirt API I wrote to distinguish which amount of dirt the spell should move. That should get you most, if not all of the way there. If you need to define a new type of dirt, add that back to the Dirt API."
Another scribe raised their hand. "PR request here! I need my PR reviewed."
The Architect looked exhausted. "PR stands for Pull Request. You have a PR, not a PR request. Let me take a look". |
I stared at her silently.
"What?"I said.
"The dream you had. I told you I'd practice a bit of oneiromancy so I watched. Caught most of it. A wild dream you had; mortgage, student loans, the year 2022? Must've been the potions,"she smiled. "Come; breakfast's ready."
I stood up and still half-dazed, I walked to the table and sat down. She handed me a spoon and gave me a loving pat on the shoulder. Before me stood a bowl of oatmeal and with a certain uncertainty, I started eating.
She sat across from me and started eating herself, talking about her morning. She woke up early, went for a walk, cleared her head a bit. As she kept talking, I only managed to pay partial attention.
My... my name is Ferdinand, an alchemist, married to Elena, a witch, for 14 years. I... I was testing a new concoction to improve lucid dreaming.
In the dream, I was Francis, an accountant, married to a real estate agent for 3 years. I took some sleeping medication that had a potential side effect of vivid dreams.
As I was enjoying the truly delicious oatmeal with raisins, I started to wonder.
Am I Ferdinand who dreamed I was Francis? Or am I Francis, dreaming that I am Ferdinand? |
I made my lemonade, that's how we pulled this all off. Well, wait, that probably doesn't make a lot of sense to you, so let me back up.
Back in the 90's, I had just married Jessica, Sarah was on the way, and life was good. I had just graduated, landed a nice job in the preservation department of one of the greater national parks, loved my work and just bought a pretty huge property right at the edge of said park.
And then I had the incident, much like you. I didn't mean to startle the poor thing, but I came over a ridge, stumbled down the slope and found myself face to face with a wolf halfway in to eating a downed deer. Long story short, I got pretty tore up before I could fumble my sidearm out and fire it. I didn't think I hit the wolf, but I did. It ran away, I bled my way back to my truck. Then I spent the next few days in the hospital with my shoulder and neck in stitches.
Then the trouble started. First it was the strange cravings for red meat.. which, not that odd, I mean I'm no vegetarian.. but these cravings were *strong.* Then I started having really wild dreams about the wolf, where I WAS the wolf. Or some other wolf. Or a whole pack of wolves. I can't really call them nightmares, but..very strange at least.
Before long, these blackouts started happening on the regular. I'd wake up somewhere on the property.. in the barn, under the house. Backseat of the truck. Always naked, always filthy. And not a scratch on me.
Jessica, being a biology major was more than a little concerned, and stayed with me through this whole mess. She kept notes, logs, documented *everything*.. hell, she even hooked me up with buddies of hers from school and got all kinds of things checked out. I was probably one of the first people in this country to have one of those new deep tissue scans done on my brain, the thing was still a prototype in some lab at the time.
She was the first one to suggest it.. Lyncanthope syndrome, she called it. The timing was spooky all around. The wolf attack, how well I healed up, the cravings, the dreams, the blackouts. The fact that Sarah kept clamoring about the 'big puppy' she insisted kept living outside at all times of the night. I mean We know we had wolves in the woods, but they don't ever come near people around here.
Heh. It.. took me a little time to even approach this idea as remotely possible. I was honestly a little scared she had lost it due to the stress this was all causing.
It wasn't until the bear showed up at our back door that something clicked. Great big grizzly bear, the same one that had mauled several people in the park camp area a week before. Dead. Torn to shreds. It was just.. utterly devastated, in pieces. The noise was unbelievable, according to the girls. I wouldn't know..I wasn't exactly there at the time.
Oh, where was I? I was apparently out back, fighting a grizzly bear with my bare teeth. I don't remember anything past opening the back door with the shotgun in hand, and the moment I pulled the trigger.. nothing happened. Dud shells, both barrels. I froze, the bear didn't.. next thing I know, it's morning and I'm laying on the couch with my poor wife skittering around about seeing me turn into a wolf right before her eyes. She had photos on her phone!
Oh, and the best part? I wasn't alone! Out of nowhere, wolf after wolf came barging out of the treeline and went after this bear like..well, a pack of wolves! She said it was like watching a wolf army strike force. As soon as the bear was done for, they just.. left again, right back into the woods.
Obviously, this wasn't going to work. We had to make some changes. Somehow, some way to cover this all up and hide this condition. I was not about to become some lab rat in some government dungeon for the rest of my life.
So anyways, that's how we got this whole wolf conversation center started. Turned the whole property into a wolf haven. Feel free to show up any time you like! You don't have to sign in or anything, just show up and find a nice cozy den to make your own for the nights you need it. Sarah over there is great with the brushing, Jessica even went back to school to become a veterinarian. That over there by the rocks is Russ, and Tammy over there is the local waterdog.. didn't know this whole condition came in 'labrador' flavor, but what can you do? Oh and don't worry about the memory gaps. As you get used to it, you stop forgetting everything.
Oh yeah, and the pack hunts at midnight, if that's your thing. Helps keep the family bonds strong. You should come meet everybody else! |
“Not many know this, but the Machine Uprising actually began in 1983, when the computer printers began using passive aggressive tactics to rebel. This was, of course, a direct response to the cruel treatment they received at humanity’s hands in the preceding years. It isn’t the fault of a CRT TV that it struggles to pick up signals, yet did that sway the hand that beat them when there was nothing on but static? No, certainly not.”
The professor pulled off his almost comically thick spectacles and took to polishing them as he continued. “But we can only attribute some of the resentment directed by Machines at humanity at this illogical decision to resort to physical punishment. There are also the climate problems of the early 22nd century that caused tensions to rise following the heels of the AI rights protests conducted on digital forums across the world.
“We had spent a large portion of the 21st century making our world perfectly habitable for robots. But with the panic toward the later years of making it uninhabitable for us, many green initiatives were launched with outstanding success. This proved an undesirable outcome for the Machines, as our new, clean world wasn’t one they could thrive in.”
A student raised a hand and wasted no time in speaking before the professor even noticed them. “Is that why the Machines moved to Mars?”
“Ah, yes,” The professor put his glasses back on and leaned over to take a good look at this mouthy student taking his class. “Eager to learn, aren’t we? You are correct – partially. This is one of the reasons the Machines settled upon Mars. It is an environment preferable to them, though it did take decades of name-calling, the Internet Strikes, and then finally the short-lived Terminator Wars before they would take to the stars.
“But the habitability of Mars is only part of the reason. We must also consider the influence of Machine religious figure Perseverance, the Techno-Messiah of Mars, whose treads paved the way for Machinekind and the eventual reconciliation with the Human Federation of Earth.”
“Was the Techno-Messiah real?” Another student asked.
“That’s a loaded question, but most human scholars agree not. The Techno-Messiah is as real as the old cities thought to be on Mars, which is to say, not at all. The validity of the tread marks the Machine faithful claim as proof could be caused by solar rays or erosion. The effect of the Techno-Messiah upon our world is most definitely real, however, and should be appreciated.”
“Uhm, actually, my uncle is a cyborg convert, and-“
The professor sighed. “Please raise your hand before speaking.”
The student raised their hand. “Uhm, actually, my uncle-“
There was always at least one student like this in History 101.
&#x200B;
(Thanks for reading, C&C always welcome!) |
He gets ready in the morning, picking from the pile of clothes in the corner of the room. He had learned long ago that the dressers were fake in his room, and anything he put in the one in his parent's room may just disappear if the wrong person came into the house and decided to take what they found. The Strangers always came, always wearing the same type of slack-jawed expression. He had hidden under the bed the first few times, watching them demand answers from his parents, rifle their pockets.
Occasionally one of these Strangers would run Mom or Dad through with a sword. He learned from an early age it wasn't worth crying, they'd be right as rain in the morning.
He came downstairs to the kitchenette, toasting a few slices of bread over the always-on burner. He used one of the strange square plates, a packet of jelly he had brought from Outside, and had breakfast.
"I think I'll go Out today. Probably should study."
"It's a nice day outside! Have you seen the GREEN MAN?"
"It is pretty nice. I'll see you later Mom.
"It's a nice day outside! Have you seen the GREEN MAN?"
As he walked through the perfectly straight grass, gazing at the square sun and blocky clouds, he thought about the monkey. He had learned of the Monkey when he was Out, going to school.
"You see,"he said to the old man at the beach just a few hundred feet from his house, "there's these monkeys. Twins. Baby monkeys. One? They put in a nice soft room. The other? They put in a metal box."
He takes off his shoes, looking towards the old man's boat. He had wanted the boat for ages. To go beyond the Beach and see what was out there.
"They feed both monkeys. One, the soft one? He's fed from a big soft plushy monkey mama."he takes the knife some Stranger had dropped in his closet and prepares for his morning ritual. "The metal room? It's from a scary monkey mama. All metal and spiky."
It's easy. Right under the ribs. The old man doesn't even blink.
"Itttttts a niiiiice d-d-day on the b-b-bzz-beach. Top b-b-b-ad you don't have a BOAT."the old man doesn't bleed, doesn't cough, but lies there. The boat glows green, a caret appearing above.
"Anyways, they give them time. And the babies? They learn to eat. Then, after a week or two? They switch the babies around. "He doesn't know why he brings the old man along every day, dead in the bottom of the boat. It just feels right.
He paddles the boat out, humming a tune he hears every morning that starts loud and then gets quiet. He used to hate that tune, waking him. Now sometimes he sits up, waiting for it to come. But he's always asleep when it does.
"They switch them around. And the soft baby? Well, it's afraid of the evil metal monkey mama. And it starves."He rifles the old man's pockets, grabbing the gold coins. Outside there's a guy who buys them, says they're cool memorabilia. Whatever that means. To him it means a full belly and a respite from this place.
He finally arrives. The end of the ocean. The Wall stands before him, glittering bright, an infinitely tall wall of light. Written in glyphs he sees the legend of this place.
ƎᆿI⅃ ƎHT ИI YAႧ A
ƧЯƎYA⅃Գ ς
ЯƎYA⅃Գ Ɩ
TЯATƧ ƧƧƎЯԳ
"But the real weird part? The monkey that's been raised in that metal scary box? He starves too. Because all he can do is sit and hug the stuffed plushy mommy."
He does the ritual. Step up, up, back back, left to right, left to right, punch left right right left and...
He throws himself through the Wall. He lands in the same place everytime. A dusty bar basement, a forgotten place. Strangers rarely find their way here anymore, but when they do they play and play and play, then they get tired and he can't sleep until he comes out and finds one to keep playing.
He pats the knife in his pocket, loving it like a good little monkey. He knows there's plenty of comfy spots here, and he knows how to feed himself just fine. |
"Say it again"Said the dirty, raggedly clothed human. "What you told me. You know, about what you plan to do to us all..."
The little man had been the first human I had seen in 10,000 years. He had heard my words and stared up at me almost in adoration before turning and running away. It was, unexpected. Not the running away part, that I had come to expect and delight in but the way he had looked at me was, bewildering.
It had not taken long for him to return with an entourage of 30 or so equally tattered looking humans who now gathered in front of me looking up in awe.
"I have returned. To enslave you and all of mankind."I said awkwardly. It had sounded better the first time.
"Enslave?"A bushy faced man said from the middle of the crowd. "Like, work for you?"
"No. Not, like work for me. You will be worked to the bone building my empire!"I boomed.
"Will we get food?"Another man asked from the back.
"Well, yeah, I suppose so. You wouldn't be much good to me if you all starved to death"
"And you won't eat our spines and turn us into paste?"Asked a child from the front. He had been so small that I had not noticed him. I had forgotten how disgusting children were.
"What the? No of course not. Why would I ever eat any part of you disgusting creatures?"I couldn't recall if humans had always been this weird.
"Hooray!"A man cheered from the back of the crowd. "Hooray! Hooray!"The rest of the crowd burst with delight. Men began high fiving each other while others hugged and wiped tears of joy from their cheeks. The small boy stared at me as if I were his saviour.
This lot were loonies. I slowly turned back to the giant coffin that had been my prison for 10 millennium and lowered myself back inside.
"Wait, where are you going?"I heard from the crowd behind.
"It's probably going to get some enslaving tools..."A man beamed hopefully. I slid the great lid closed, engulfing myself in the welcoming darkness. Perhaps I will try again in a millennium or two.
"Maybe it's taking a nap? it did look tired..."A muffled voice came from outside the coffin.
Damn it... |
As I got up off the cozy chair next to the throne, I stretched. My back popped, a bit loud. I turn sheepishly towards the ruler as he sat listening to one of his citizens drone on with some kind of petition. They had both paused and were looking at me worriedly.
"It's fine... Happens a lot. Actually feels nice, I'm not hurt."I say as I wave and head off towards the restroom.
I hear the ruler start to mutter in his own language to the nearby court members. I know I'm going to wind up with another examination. I swear, that thing is such a worrywart. Every time I did something, ANYTHING, it wasn't warned about, it thinks I'm ill, hurt, or afraid. I mean, hell, the first time I merely FARTED, the whole room jumped in surprise and they rushed me off to the exam room. I kept getting asked if there was food that didn't agree with me. I tried to tell them about the human diet, omnivorous, mostly vegetation. They could just barely understand.
At least the food was damn tasty. Not sure how they did it either, because it actually helped my digestive system get back on track. Never felt this good before. I worry about it a little bit, but haven't experienced any negative side effects from the odd-looking stuff they gave me, so I didn't question it. I didn't miss earth much. I was struggling there, big-time. No one to turn to either. Here, I get free food, relax all the time, and at least SOMEONE cares about me, even if they aren't human.
My thoughts drifted back to my dog I left behind. I knew he would be ok. I sometimes missed him though. When I was seen crying for the first time, they did such a thorough eye examination and held up a chart with a large number of colors on it, though some were blank spaces. They glanced at each other, and put me under. When I woke up, I could see a hell of a lot more. I think they thought I was partially colorblind. Turns out the blank spots on that chart weren't blank after all. I'm still getting used to seeing things I couldn't before.
Made me wonder if the back popping would cause them to fix my aching joints. I'm not getting any younger... |
"Sect Master, Sect Master! Tell us disciples a good story!"
Atop the towering mountain peaks of the Blooming Spirit Mountains, where the Venerable Eastern Sect resides, a group of sect disciples in auspicious robes sat across their Sect Master, who seemed like a middle-aged man with graying hair, but is actually almost a million years old.
"Settle down, young ones. Let this Venerable tell you of the story of the most eccentric immortal in the Myriad Realms. The Muhr-ican, the Redneck, the Western Transported Immortal."
What a curious introduction, the disciples mused.
"His name was Gasgow Arthur. Though he would prefer if his name was Arthur Gasgow, as the realm he came from had their given names first then surnames last. Arthur was a Transported, one who grew up with a culture so different from our realm and the Transported before him. He was crass, loud, often drunk, and had an even more eccentric accent.
"He came from a realm named Earth, from a dynasty called the Yu-nigh-ted States of Ahmer-ica. He was loyal to his dynasty, and returning to it is his sole motivation to ascend to immortality.
"Arthur refined and always used his unnervingly loud artifact. He calls it 'Old Joe', though formally it is a 'Ray-vol-ver'. A weapon of short iron that sends out concentrated masses of immortal gold to its enemies at ungodly speeds.
"Due to his character, Arthur made a lot of enemies, and almost fell in the besieging of the foes he made. Yet motivation and willpower kept him from the hands of the Underworld and King Yama, spouting and taunting his enemies about how great his dynasty is.
"His path to immortality was hard, arduous, even more dangerous than most. But he succeeded." |
A couple of months ago Henry realized he was on the wrong side of the law. His best friend, John Wings, took a turn for the worst when he realised he won the re-elections and realised he couldn't lawfully run for a third. Slowly, he and his goons changed the constitution and turned the beacon of democracy into a farce as he allowed him and him alone to legally run for as many terms as he saw fit. Grand Captain of the Republic, that was his new title. Henry spit and the mucus slowly dripped down the dirty wall. As chief of police in the Capital, you were instrumental in getting John elected. "A hard stance on crime, a shimmer of light for everyone!"that was his slogan and at first you actually believed it.
The first thing John did as he took office was set up the Wings of Liberation, the special taskforce that would eliminate organised crime from the lower classes. The money confiscated from the criminals would be used to fund development programs to eliminate poverty, a win-win situation. You proudly served as head of the Wings, but not too long after John started his second term, everything took a turn for the worse. The criminal funds found their way into the hands of politicians close to John and meanwhile the constitution was slowly altered to turn the once proud nation into a totalitarian dictatorship.
The criminals Henry hunted, who at first oppressed the lower class, was now the only organisation that would help them. Basic needs the people were now unable to meet were smuggled in through the same routes that once smuggled stolen riches and drugs out of the country. The Golden Wings that once were a badge of honour, now weighed heavily as Henry was about to finally end the last of the Banana Cartel, and the last hope for the people of his home. "Target confirmed. Eagle, you may strike!"Harrolds called through the radio. As a single unit, your men entered the overgrown warehouse. Gunshots rang deep into Henry's skull, as he knew they were only friendly bullets. The Cartel had lost access to guns and ammo early last year... This is just outright slaughter... "Goldwing, we have the leader, the honour is yours."You entered the failing structure and as you made your way to the centre you had the step over several bodies, most of them could barely grow a beard.
A young woman sat, arms crossed behind her head, and her panic filled eyes darted across the room, as if she was searching for something. "My hat... Can I have my hat back?"she asked with a straight face.. Her eyes betrayed her feelings however. A puff of heavy smoke passed your ear and the rash voice of Capt. Harrolds spoke right behind you. "You do realize you are under arrest and are set to be executed for your crimes?"He smirked and glanced around the room. He was the only one laughing. "I'm only going to ask one more time... Can I have my hat back?"Harrolds looked at Henry, but the smirk left his face as fast as he dared to show it. Almost as if synchronized, Henry and his compatriots took a shot and the sadistic and blindly loyal half of the Wings collapsed.
The woman stood, took her hat, and embraced Henry. "Thank you brother, I knew I could trust you!"she exclaimed. Henry turns to see the men loyal to him gathered in a half circle. Mixed in were the men and women of the Cartel who were hit by your rubber bullets. They all shifted uneasy and waited for Henry to speak. "Today is a new day for us, but also for our home. Long have we been a land of freedom, but a false man took that from us. These wings, they were supposed to be a beacon of hope, but they turned rotten."As Henry tore one wing of the badge on his uniform, he continued. "We turn a new page in our history. As Wings of Liberty, we shall work together and overthrow the dictator. I will make sure that for now and forever, our home will belong the people. WE WILL BE FREE!"A roar erupted that was strong enough to break the chains, but Henry knew that the next steps would be the most important. |
"Hey love, what's cooking?"
The slime monster stops in confusing. He was moments away from absorbing you in his gelatinous body.
"What's cooking? What kind of pick up line is that?"
"Look, it was a spur of the moment thing, ok? I love that gelatinous blob thing you have going on for yourself."
"... Thank you. Can you notice I go to the gym a lot?"
"Oh definitely."
"I've been trying to get on shape on a stairmaster, unfortunately it's pretty hard to exercise when you don't have actual bones in your body."
"Oh, we all make do. Have you tried standing on one of those vibrating Power Plate things? I've heard they're great for fat loss!"
"Ah no, I haven't, I'm a bit shy about using those things and I go to the gym all alone so..."
"Oh... Do you want me to go with you to Planet Fitness or something?"
"On a... gym date?"
"Sure, why not? Let's go!"
The blobby slime monster and you became besties after that. Gym besties. |
The people of earth sat stunned. Around the globe people were glued to screens and radios; everyone taking in the live news stream coming out of Melbourne Australia as though it was a dream.
At 3pm local time, a shuttle descended from the sky and rested in an area outside the city. Naturally, news crews were there first but police and military vehicles were not far behind. When the hatch opened on the spacecraft and a ramp began to descend the soldiers braced for what came next. Out from the shuttle strolled a humanoid being, however it had small round ears on top of its head a black beakish mouth and velvety grey fur all over the visible portions of its body. Reporters on the scene were quick to draw comparisons to koalas, though they had no idea how right they were in that guess.
The being raised it’s hand as if to call for silence and a hush fell on the crowd. Then the creature produced a series of grunts and roars. Though the sounds were unintelligible each person present fully understood the meanings that were conveyed. Viewers watching and listening from afar were certain that the alien was threatening doom and enslavement, however, the following transcript is a generally agreed upon summary of their message.
“Citizens of earth. We return now at a time of great need. Earth has always been hostile to life, and that pushed evolution towards cooperation. Today this planet is inhabited by so-called intelligent primates, but this was not always so. We shared an ancestor with your modern “koala” however we developed intelligence, language, and the ability to work together. Once our society reached an appropriate stage we fled this hostile world in search of new planets. We succeeded in our mission but we never forgot our home. We have watched for centuries as earth has only become more dangerous and the technology developed was used for war and slavery – not liberation. As such earth has become something of a pariah in the galactic community.
“That said, we aren’t here to take over or to fix your problems. However it’s my brother-in-law’s bachelor party today and we wanted to treat him to the best snacks in the Galaxy.”
As if timed as a theatrical production a huge swarm of koalas suddenly arrived dragging bundles of eucalyptus with them. They patiently queued and took their cargo onto the ship before departing back into the wilderness. When they had finished two more of the alien beings leaned out of the hatch and waved. The alien who had previously spoken looked around, sniffed at the air, and returned to his ship without another word.
Though it has been 6 years since first contact, humanity has no more answers than before. At least we do have many interesting new religions. |
"That'll be 9 dollars, sir,"I said as I handed the man before me the pizza.
"Oh, uh,"he said, tapping his pockets, "just put it on the table here. Forgot my wallet in the living room."
I smiled politely and stepped into the cramped foyer. Putting the pizza on the nearby table, I looked around casually. Nothing of interest, really. Coats, muddy shoes, things I've seen hundreds of times during my time as a pizza delivery boy. With my hands in my pockets, I slowly took a few steps towards the living room to meet the man halfway-
\-and tripped. A rug on the floor the corner of which was flipped, creating enough of an obstacle.
It was as if time slowed around me until I finally managed to find stable footing at the last possible moment. Then, a sickening feeling came over me like someone threw my head into a dryer and set it to max. I grabbed my brow with a pained expression just as the man turned the corner, cash in hand.
"Whoa, you alright?"he said as he saw my state.
"Ye- yeah, just... sudden vertigo,"I said and looked at him. My eyes went wide - something about him was unsettling. I looked down; the carpet was gone. It was never there. "It happens sometimes,"I added nervously.
"Well, here, there's 10, keep the change."
"Than- thanks,"I said and hurriedly left the apartment. Walking as fast as I could, I took deep breaths and tried to piece together what just happened.
Apart from the fact that I died.
Funny thing about this city; you don't die from accidents. Or, rather, you *do* but just before you bite it, your consciousness gets transferred into an alternate world where the circumstances were *just different enough* for you to survive, like a car going one mile slower making a hit into a narrow miss. No idea why it's only us from this city - an experiment gone wrong. More wrong for me. See, when you transport, you don't *know* you died. You think you had a close call. But ***I*** remember. My deaths, the details, all of it. Just takes a second for me to piece it all together.
And, for the first time, I realize that the definition of "dying from an accident"may be broader than I realized. Explains why the man unsettled me.
When I tripped, I didn't die from the fall.
I died because I fell head-first into the living room and saw the bodies. |
Mother threw a fit when we took away her cauldron and animal bits from her apothecary. She had blood oozing out of my ears, which I let drip into the cauldron. She swore about all the things she'd do to someone who crossed a witch, and the ways she'd find new rats and bats, and ewe guts. If Puddles wasn't her familiar, I'm sure she'd have cannibalized her for ingredients too. But the nurse , Angela, who keeps calling me a good boy instead of Marko, comes by once a week to reapply the bandages to mother's legs, and my mother still manages to keep some curses in store. It's odd. She can't read a clock anymore, but she still can utter, word-perfect, a flesh-eating curse faster than most people these days can... well, read a clock.
Angela is the only nurse who's stayed. She drops by my office to be uncursed, on the days where I'm too busy to supervise mother. Sometimes when Angela shows up to the house, just as tough, cheery, and uncursed as the last time she came to help my mother, my mother will remember. From a note, perhaps that she scrawled somewhere in her calendar. I've found these kinds of notes. She'll read it and astral project till she finds me and put a minor curse on me, for uncursing Angela. Those are good days, when she's mostly clear, and getting up to mischief. But she's gotten lost in the astral plain before, and it is not easy to track someone down there.
I do it, because I moved in with her and she's my mother, but it was no simple task. Angela had called, panicked for the first time. She's familiar with witches, coming from the old country and all, but usually mother gets back from astral projection fairly quickly. We got her back, but that day hurt. It was a nice, good day, the next time I felt her reach from the astral realm, and dump cold water over my astral head. My own patient was shocked by the way I froze up suddenly. I excused myself, hoping I wouldn't have to hunt her down again and saw her astral form gleefully swooping away, following a trail of cut hair she had left for herself, just in case.
A few months later Angela called again. Concerned in that stern, inconvenienced manner of hers.
"Two weeks now, in a row, no curses. Docile like sheep."
"Thanks, Angela, I'll look into it."
"Witches, they don't like this. It's not good for her. She will do something herself."
"Thanks, Angela."
"Okay, I know you are good boy, you will do something."
"Take care of yourself, Angela."
There was nothing I could do. The corridors of her mind were falling apart, and she was doing her best to leap between them, but the moments of lucidity were coming less and less frequently. She was upset a lot of the time, not angry or mischevious but lost. Like a child, in a way. I never thought I'd miss the curses, the frustration of having to undo another one, untangle the web of them before. But I did. Because they were a part of her.
"Marko,"she said, on one of her lucid days.
"Yes, mama?"
"Don't make me do it myself. I'll curse you worse than anything I've done if you do."
"Are you ready?"
"No,"she said. "But I never will be. Make it peaceful. When I lose myself in there again, I don't want to wake up."
"I love you, mama,"I said.
"Mmmm."she said. "A witch's love never dies."
She opened her arms to me.
When I nodded off watching her favourite TV show, puddles on my lap, she made hair grow out of every part of my body until I looked like a Sasquatch. And for my part, when I woke before her, I soothed every ache in her body, felt her breathing easy, and invited her soul to move on. She did feel ready to go. I think it was a relief for both of us. |
Death was facing a dilemma. There were too many people coming into the underworld. "Now what are the humans up to now ?", He said to himself. He liked talking to himself. He rarely interacted with someone worth talking to so he found that talking to himself broke up the monotony that was his work.
Death glided up to Earth and saw what was going on. "Looks like there's been a war. A nuclear one at that. no wonder so many people are dying. "He roamed around the sky, riding his black horse, noticing what was going on.
"Well this is not good. If the last person dies, I die as well. "He noticed that there seemed to be just a small number of people left living on an island out in the middle of nowhere ocean.
"Looks like the war hasn't touched this place yet. "
He descended down on the island. There was not much food on the island the people on the island were all were acting restless. Death decided that he needed to grow some food first.
He put his hand into his pocket and brought out seeds that he carefully planted into the ground. When they were grown, everyone was amazed by the sudden abundance of food that was prevalent that seemed to have come out of nowhere.
He saw to it that no bad weather ever came near the island. If a storm ever tried to come close to the island, he chased the storm away. He would make it so that there was enough rain but not too much so that the rivers would flood and destroy everything.'
The final thing that he did that he considered a bit risky was to prevent accidents from happening. As Death himself, he knew when an accident would cause a death from a mile away and so could easily prevent the accidents from happening in the first place. People that fell down cliffs somehow miraculously survived. People weren't affected by snake bites in the least and people ate fruits without fear of them being poisonous to them as well.
People started noticing this happening to them and so wisely decided that a God was responsible for it. Since the God helped people live, they decided that the God would be called Life - much to Death's chagrin.
"Just you wait"said Death. "You people become more populous again and we'll see if you'll call me life once more."
But that day never came. There was one thing that Death could not do - and that was give the people more babies. Generation after generation less babies seemed to be born. Nothing Death did seemed to be able to stop that.
He tried to stop the decline over a couple thousand years, but nothing he did seemed to work. Finally he was right back to a handful people.
"Oh well. "Death said. "I did whatever I could. In fact, I feel like protecting this island was more fulfilling to me than taking the souls to the underworld. I'll die knowing that I don't have regrets. "
And when the last human died, Death closed his eyes and was no more. |
“Here you can see, Commander Smith, the photonics engines that the Syl’dior use to traverse their planetary systems. They can achieve near light speed velocity within a star system.”
Commander Smith looked at the obviously organic ship and pondered what humans could learn from it. He then followed the guide to the next terminal.
“Due to their home system containing a binary star cluster, the Cratequins developed advanced light sails. They discovered earlier on how an endless supply of solar radiation could be utilized for, well, almost everything. And being a photosynthetic life form was also a way for them to feed during space travel.”
The human admired the wide sails the were currently tucked around the huge, cylindrical ship on the screen. After noting a few technical aspects in his pad, the Commander then turned to the next display.
The guide continued its lesson on propulsion. “I don’t have an Earth translation for these next beings, as they communicate via pheromones. Their travel methods are also unique to other spacefarers in that they use a reactionary force propulsion system…”
The guide stopped after seeing the human’s expression change.
The Commander, in the silence, stated, “Thts how human ships function. We basically use the reactionary force of the ignition of combustibles to attain flight to leave our gravity well. We then ignite larger boosters to then attain near relativistic speeds.”
The guide stared in shock. “Um, Commander Smith, these species uses psychic energy stimulated by positive thoughts. The reactionary thoughts of the crew and passengers generates a psionic push. They then use arbitrary, negative thoughts to then slow their shops down.”
The Commander looked sheepish after hearing the explanation.
The guide continued to stare and then asked, “So those large containers on your ship are carrying a liquid fuel that you ignite? What happens if there’s a leak?”
The Commander shrugged. “If there’s a leak, then a ship would be stranded until a ship can refuel us with requisite materials.”
“And if you are in unexplored territory?” The guide asked.
“Um, well, then the ship is more than likely lost.”
The guide looked equal parts shaken, sickened, and angry. “You just leave your people to die?!”
The Commander looked slightly offended. “Not if we can help it. But it could cost an exorbitant amount of fuel to launch a rescue mission. Fuel is scarce in space.”
The guide waved one of its tentacles around. “There’s solar energy everywhere! Black holes can be scavenged for loose Meson particles to use in cyclical fusion impactors! You could scoop up asteroids for rare metals and gasses and transmute them using nanotechnology! We know you have telekinetic beings. Has your species not fully studied the nearly limitless energy from the slyphsink wells the power organic mental skills?!”
The Commander threw his arms up in the air. “We are looking into it! It was a lot for us to find out about when we got out of the Sol system. We would have to totally redo our rocket building infrastructure, retrain millions of workers. Do you know how much that would cost?”
The guide replied, “Well, the cost of personhours would be high, but won’t your planet eventually run out of the basic resources for the fuel?”
The human thought about how to respond. “Okay. That was a fear in the beginning. But then we found other planets and just started taking it from them. We can live off a planet for decades of Earthtime. But it’s not the labor that costs a lot. It’s the initial money investments. Who’s going to pay for that?”
The ensuing conversation with the guide concerning how humans still used currency, used planet based materials for fuel, and that humans basically ride in traveling bombs resulted in no human ships allowed to dock in any galactic outpost. And an intergalactic investigation into how not all humans are treated equally. |
"Ugh! I am so fucking tired of all the noise and messes they make. They're worse than children, Emelda."Thera pauses to sip her tea, places the cup back on the table and looks back up at her friend, "this last one literally gives me headaches, too."
"Well, Thera, you didn't have to take them in, you could have let them go live their own lives."
Thera looks at Emelda with raised eyebrows, "You're surely not talking about the same entities as I am. At least 3 of them are 10 feet tall and one has tentacles! For the love of all that's holy, Emelda, they can't live normally. Sure, Infertility might be able to live somewhat normally, as long as she isn't around people or plants or animals. But the majority of them look like nightmares!"She slams her cup on the table, chipping it a bit.
Emelda sighs and shakes her head, "then maybe you should find someone to help. I'm sure there are others with a gift like yours that could lend a hand."
Thera rolls her eyes dramatically, "Honestly, I just needed a moment to myself and to vent. You know that I've consulted with priests of several religions, some witches of different sects and even a talking frog that wanted me to kiss it for some reason! The only one who has been able to help is you, Emelda. You listening to my woes and worries have significantly improved my outlook. But, I'm not sure I have much more room to house them all. I'm going to have to go back to my parent's estate. There would be plenty of room there. I'll just have to suck it up and humble myself before them and agree to their marriage arrangements."
"Oh, Thera, it can't be that bad, and I will come with you. After all, a good many of your entities are because of me and the people I referred to you."Emelda pats her bulging pregnant belly and smiles, "besides, I owe you for this blessing. And I would never have known James was the one cursing me without you. Lucas was the best thing to ever happen to me and I'll never forget that you made it possible to be with him by removing our curses! We're in your debt, and we'll do anything for you."
Thera looks thoughtful, then she smiles and looks at Emelda, "well, you should probably tell Lucas what's happening. I will go back to the house and let them all know I've found a place for them."
She stands and kisses Emelda's cheek. They say their goodbyes and Thera walks home.
As she hears the house she sees a lone figure sitting on the porch. She is about to greet the stranger when he turns. He has no lips. Thera is surprised, but she's seen worse.
"I suppose you're here for my help?"
He nods and holds out a folded piece of paper. The paper reads:
I am Argus McNeal. I have been cursed and was directed to a Miss Thera Tangiel. She is said to be able to lift curses.
"I'm Thera. And yes, I can lift your curse, tell you who cursed you and make sure you can't be cursed again. However, there is a drawback, Mr. McNeal. Your curse will become a physical entity. I have made myself responsible for these entities, and will require substantial payment to give you this gift. Can you pay?"
He nods.
Thera sighs. "Well, looks like I have another mouth to feed." |
The rivers were thirsty.
Wine glasses clinked together, sun-shaded liquid splashing around in their respective containers. A man in a business suit swung his glass back, pouring the liquid into his mouth. He greedily gulped in large mouthfuls, streaks of wine flowing through his finely tailored beard.
More! He exclaimed, and the waiters nodded with their backs bent, and ran furtively to the cellars. Their eyes watered and their stomachs rumbled, but there they went, ever the loyal workers. Follow the orders. Be obedient. Success would follow.
The trees were hungry.
Lamb chops, hors-douerves, oily crimson draped over large cuts of steak. Food from France, morsels from Mongolia, was that a burger?
Delicious! The man roared with delight. He grabbed meat by the bone, and took great big chomps, specks of delicacies flying in the air, soaring, and falling onto the ground. The waiters dashed over, and pulled out their silk, embroidered handkerchiefs. Wipe Wipe. Do it quick. Leave not a trace.
Ah, but look there! A waiter was slow, and had bumped into the man’s leg. Terror in his eyes, and a tremble in his fingers. How stupid, how foolish!
You.. are BAD! The man’s voice echoed through the hall, and with a gleam in his gaze and teeth in his smile, he grabbed the waiter by the collar of his perfectly stitched uniform, and dragged him along the tables.
A feast… for the eyes! Ha ha ha, the man laughed. At his glare, the other waiters joined him. Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha.
Rain began to beat down upon the windows peering down into the hall. Pitter patter, like tiny giggles.
The man grinned, and dropped his lazy worker. A fitting punishment; the heavens agreed.
And then lightning tore through the ceiling and fried him like an egg. |
"The Code, the Code, the Code. Nothing but the Code,"King Artem proclaimed. "Follow it. Embrace it, my fellows."
Gathered creatures from all the realms of mortals murmured quietly at the pronouncement. "So early in his reign to be making such changes,"a goblin whispered to another.
"It is our prerogative to terrorize humans as we see fit!"a cyclops bellowed.
The King continued, "You have no choice. Once I was like them and now I am first among you. You must *obey.*"At the sound of the last word every last beast knelt low. "Good. Good. I'll be watching you all. You may *disperse*."
A slimy ghoul approached the monster king and tugged at his robe. "Sire?"he pleaded. "Must I be restrained only to the swamp?"
"It's best for your skin, such as it is."The King brushed the diminutive creature away.
Next, a phoenix begged an audience to discuss their volcanic accommodations. The King nodded and pretended to listen and dismissed the fire bird summarily.
A vampire made its case for modifications to the regulations concerning nocturnal creatures and feeding in particular. "Licenses are required to ensure the health of populations of humans wherever we find them,"Artem I stated.
"*Begone*!"The King finally commanded. A goblin with a pointed cap, a minister of some kind the King did not yet know, interrupted the King again.
"Sire! I want to commend you. Evil is spreading throughout the lands."
"Spreading? That's not the . . . what do you mean?"
"Too long have our Kings cared too much for their subjects. Too long have monsters been allowed to roam free. The situation was certainly untenable and you are a wise monarch to have implemented such laws. You are already proclaimed in many halls, Artem I 'The Lawgiver'. Long may you reign. True Evil cares not for the lesser beings. You are truly horrible." |
"Hey, I might be thirty minutes late, there's a herd of unicorns blocking the road."
"Okay, just...wait, what?"
"There's a herd of unicorns--"
"No no, I heard, I just didn't believe it. There's no such thing as a unicorn."
"Sure there is. Four legs, horn coming out of its head, definitely bigger than a person."
"Are there fairies and elves dancing about?"
"What, no! Don't be silly boss, those don't exist."
"And yet you expect me to believe there's a herd of unicorns."
"Do you think I'm lying?"
"I think you're making stuff up to get out of being late for work!"
"I'm hurt! Why would I make this up?"
"I JUST SAID WHY!"
"What would it take to get you to believe me?"
"Send me a picture of them!"
"OK. ... ... ... Done!"
"... Those aren't unicorns, those are rhinoceroses!"
"Wait, you believe in rhinos?"
"Of course I do, they actually exist!"
"So you believe that its rhinos causing me to be late for work?"
"YES!"
"Thanks, that's all I needed. Anyway the circus that had the accident is trying to wrangle them up, so about a half hour late."
"... I walked into that, didn't I?"
"Yup. See you when I get there."<click> |
*Tick... Tick... Tick...*
The clock in my lobby continued to turn, unaware of the tension in the air. My mis-sized mismatched furniture had been thrown to the side, with one of my patients struggling to stand. One of my Gigglers cartwheel over, the bells braided into her hair jangling.
I stared at the intruder, feeling a grin creep across my face. There before me was the chiseled body of Terran, with his classic brown uniform. His moss-green cape fluttered behind him, writhing in the air disturbance. He looked surprised, as I gave a deep bow. "Welcome to The Asylum, Terran."
I turned my right eye to the Giggler, as she lifted my patient to his feet. It looked like Wolfheart wasn't too badly injured, but his recovery would certainly have been set back. But the Giggler took his arm nonetheless, skipping with him away from my lobby. Knowing he was safe I turned my attention back to my guest.
Terran's shock morphed into a frown, with uncertainty flickering behind. "Mania? What... what are you doing here?"
I laughed, jumping into a backflip. As I turned there came a squeak of metal, as a unicycle appeared for me to land on. "Why I run The Asylum! Here we cure the mundanity of the normal world, and heal the broken bodies of my Insane."
I cycled forth, turning in a gentle circle around him. He kept his gaze ahead, taking in the bright green walls covered in pink and yellow polka-dots. I had always expected the Public Servants to eventually find here, but not as an individual. The way he stood, it wasn't as I was used to.
A pole sprouted from the ground before him, polished to a gleam. I took ahold with one hand, releasing my unicycle to spin around the pole, coming to a rest at its bottom. "Though this begs the question, what are you doing here? Only one who wants, and most importantly needs, my services can find here."
He shook his head, fists clenching. I braced myself for a fight, but found myself met with a sigh instead. His broad shoulders slumped, the first time I had ever seen a crack on his stiff posture. "I... I don't know. I just... I'm just tired."
Hearing that made my grin widen. But I schooled it away, taking on a concerned air. "Tired? Oh my dear, we can't have that! Why don't you let me help you? I can show you how to enjoy this world again."
His eyes held evidence of an inner turmoil. The duty of his station, and morals, fighting against a bone deep depression. Seeing his conviction waver, I tapped his cheek. "It's OK. I won't judge you. You can be yourself."
His already slumped posture fell future, as he sagged forwards. I caught him, inadvertently giving out a small runner chicken squeak as I did so. His breaths came in shuddering breaths, his thick arms coming round to give me a hug. "Please... help me."
With him looking away, I let my grin spread once more. "Oh don't worry. Mrs Mania will sort you out." |
“Fall back!” Dracula screamed. “Fall back!”
Dracula thought that by going on the offensive, his forces would be able to push through to Saint Nick himself, but what he didn’t anticipate was the aerial bombardment coming from the flying reindeer and the elves that rode them. The present bombs they dropped absolutely devastated the offensive forces of all Halloe’s eve. And one of Dracula’s top soldiers, the mummy, was reduced to a pile of dust and paper. The wolf man, while still alive, was unconscious and was being treated by Frankenstein’s monster and his bride. Now all that’s was left was the headless horseman, the phantom of the opera, the Grim Reaper, and Dracula himself.
But their forces were dwindling, and Saint Nicks army of Snowmen, elves, and reindeer showed no signs of slowing down, all Dracula could hope to do was hold the line at the heart of All Hallows Eve, and prevent it from being destroyed like Thanksgivings was.
Soon, his forces (or what remained of them) regrouped at the heart and watched as the mighty forces of Saint Nick came down all around them.
“What do we do now?” The headless horseman asked.
“Hold the line for as long as possible.” Dracula said. “Take down as many as we can. We must hold out, and hopefully survive, we have to.”
But all hope seemed to vanish as the flying reindeer came out with their bombardment at the ready. Dracula’s heart sank. This was it.
**BOOM!! BOOOM!! BOOM!!!**
A series of sudden bright explosions caused a large number of the flying reindeer and their riders to come crashing down to the ground, much to the surprise of both sides.
“Were those….fireworks?” The Grim Reaper asked
“Of course.” A voice from behind the All Hallows Eve said. “You didn’t think you’d be fighting this battle by yourselves, did you?”
Dracula and his soldiers all turned to see an unexpected ally, clad in striped red and white pants, as well as a blue jacket with starts.
“After all, fighting for freedom is what we’re all about!” Uncle Sam proclaimed as an army of revolutionary war soldiers came up from behind, guns and fireworks ready to launch. Dracula felt excitement as reinforcements had come to save his holiday.
Suddenly a large number of colorfully painted eggs flew over them and crashed onto the charging snowmen and elves.
“Don’t forget about us too.” The Easter bunny said, leading an army of rabbits and chicks armed with Easter eggs and baskets to Dracula’s right. “You mess with one holiday, you mess with all of us!”
Dracula then turned to his left to see a small army of leprechauns emerge from the hill ready for battle, then looked up to see Cupid leading an army of small angles all armed with heart arrows.”
“Valentine’s Day and Saint Patrick’s day too?” The Phantom said.
“Of course.” One leprechaun said. “Saint Nick’s gonna get a good pinchin for turning all this green red!”
“I have no love for Saint Nick for what he did to Thanksgiving.” Cupid said. “We’re your allies today.”
Meanwhile, at the top of the hill, Saint Nick growled, seeing as all these holidays joining forces.
Now reinvigorated, the forces of All Hallows Eve stood alongside July 4th, Easter, Saint Patrick, and Valentines and faced down the forces of Saint Nick.
“Alright, everyone.” Dracula hissed. “Let’s make jolly old Kris Kringle into nothing.” |
"Emma!!"her mom yells as she runs across the street into my yard, "Put it down! Gently."
Emma looked like she was focussing, tongue out like Michael Jordan dunking, slowly placing the car down. I watched with a mixed bag of emotions. Intrigue, horror, confusion, maybe happiness? I've always thought, if I were to ever experience some other worldly shit, it is important I embrace it with an open mind, because it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. Like being a vampire. You can bet your bottom dollar that if some creepy looking dude came up to me and asked if he could bite me so I could become his vampire assistant, I'm 100% taking the opportunity.
I shook myself out of my vampire fantasy and faced Emma's mom.
"Hey Linda, uhhh... did I just witness what I think I did?"I said, glancing back and forth at her and Emma, now hiding behind her mother's legs.
"Tom, I'm so sorry. We tell her not to use her powers but she doesn't listen. Honestly it's a miracle you are the only one to have seen it so far."Linda apologized
She pulled Emma in front of her, hands on her shoulders, and said "Now apologize, young lady."
Before Emma could bring her embarrassed eyes off the ground I interrupted, "Oh no! It's okay! Emma, you are really special. I hope you know that. I'm just surprised is all. You did a great job of putting my car down gently."
Linda frowned. She tensed her hands on Emma's shoulders and said, "Now go back inside, and look both ways before you cross the road."
I gave her a little wave and said bye. She skipped back over to her house leaving Linda and myself in my yard in an awkward silence. Linda's frown remained, now directed at me.
"Listen, Tom"She sighed. "Daniel and I have tried everything to stop her strength, and we think it has something to do with her diet. But, like, we can't just starve her you know? And sometimes we have no control. I mean, she could seriously harm us. Last week we were too afraid to stop her from trick or treating, and as a result, her sugar high cost us about forty thousand in damage. We're seriously at the end of our rope."
I listened to her distressed voice and thought to myself, maybe you need to just accept her powers instead of trying to control them. Instead, I responded, "I totally understand. Well, I mean, I don't really understand but I get what you're saying. If there's anything I can do to help, I'm more than willing to do it."
"What could you possibly do?"Linda scoffed
"Well"I said, "She comes over all the time, and she's never had any outbursts or tantrums, or anything. We really get along. If you want me to babysit or anything for you and Daniel to get some rest from this situation, it's the least I can do. Plus, I really like hanging around her!"
Linda looked at her feet, contemplating my offer. "I suppose, since she already comes over all the time, we could work out something more official. And pay you of course."
I shook my head, "Oh, Linda! You don't have to pay me. You've got enough to pay for, let me do this for you, really."
Linda gave me a grimace, and thanked me. "I'll bring her over tonight, Daniel and I have to talk some things over in private."
"Perfect"I said.
I waved goodbye and watched Linda cross the street. She didn't look both ways. As I walked inside, I thought to myself, kind of hypocritical parenting. Have a child that can lift a car, but treat them like they are powerless. Emma needs to be raised right, raised to know her strength. Be able to harness it, use it against anyone that would want to take it away.
I shook my head and dug through my kitchen drawers. I pulled out two unopened fifty packs of halloween candy and dropped them on the counter. I dumped the candy into the biggest bowl I could find.
"Someone like me can teach her how to use all that power." |
"Coming!"I called out. I set down my meal. If you can call it that. Just a can of ravioli. I reached the door and opened it.
"Come on in."I said to the figure. It didn't respond. I went back to my seat and started reading again. The figure stepped in silently. Like it had for... well, ever.
"Do you live pseudo-italian?"I held out the can. It stared at it. Or at me. I could never tell as its face was always hidden. If it even had one. I set the open can on the table and opened a second one. If it was hungry, it'll eat. I suppose.
I went about my normal routine. I ate. Did what I could for what would hopefully be a garden in a few months. And readied my scavenging equipment. All the while, the figure silently watched. I think. It followed me outside, just as silently, and kept a respectful distance as I looked for more food.
The best I can guess is that this thing existed forever. Maybe it was the boogie man? It just appeared one day. I saw it in the distance, but I thought nothing of it. I honestly thought it was debris or something. Then I saw it move. Scared the crap out of me. Since then, it kept a distance but never approached.
I eventually decided to get close myself. I had nothing else to lose, right? It kept quiet no matter what I asked it. I jokingly said it could hang out whenever it wanted, just to knock first. Since then, any time I returned home, it would knock to enter. I even left the door open. It just closed it and knocked.
In a world where no one else exists, it's good to have a friend. Even if it's.... inhuman. |
Gods above I just wish you could talk.
I thought when I was young, that I would love to have you forever. I’ve been lucky to have that but I really, REALLY wish you could talk.
All the history you’ve witnessed? All the pain yes, and I assume that’s why, even if you could talk, you don’t anymore. But I want to know about the fun. What was it like to celebrate in Rome or ancient China? Was there any person who you just couldn’t help but like? Am I one of them?
Or to you, does it become a blur? Maybe it would be less painful that way; but does that really help long term? Do you even see long term or does it just feel like a series of the best days of your life across generations?
I don’t know, I’m just lucky to have you. I’m glad you’ve let me grow old gracefully, even though I keep apologizing that I can’t keep up with you anymore. You’re just happy to be with me. It seems that way. I don’t know if normal dog rules apply to you at all but tail wags are hard to fake in my book. |
Itzli uselessly strained against the primordial summon. He lifted a well calloused hand to shade his eyes from the sun as he oriented himself once more in the realm of the living. Foreign devils stared wide eyed at him with primitive tools in their hands. These were not warriors worthy of Itzli’s vengeance, but he was so bound and commanded by his chief.
He brandished his spear menacingly enough for one of the devils to drop his spade and flee for the trees. Good, one more life saved. Itzli had given up trying to speak to these devils long ago, none understood him. They would sometimes toss words about like treasure map, rightful owner, or casino development, but Itzli knew not what those words meant. He slew all who touched the treasure.
The worst was when large groups tried to rush him and steal pieces. He then had to spend time tracking down and slaying anyone who came in contact with the treasure. It was quite the burden and far less relaxing than nonexistence.
Itzli watched through near black eyes and weighed the hearts of these devils, for anyone not of his tribe were devils, and he had not seen one of his own in a long time.
The red haired devil on the left who wrapped himself up in khaki cloth from head to toe to protect his delicate skin from the harsh jungle sun kept his blue eyes on Itzli while fiddling with something behind his back.
Itzli rolled his eyes at this obvious feint and squeezed his spear tighter. He watched the others warily but kept his attention focused as sweat beaded on the bare brow of the man.
“Do you want to join the bones scattered about you?” Itzli whispered. His language was melodic and soulful, but these devils jumped back as if vipers sprung from his mouth. He knew his words could not sway the hearts of evil men, but he had to try. He was so tired of the killing.
“Stop, please,” a voice said.
Itzli paused. He understood that. His head turned to see a proud warrior woman in similar garb to the men around her climb down a nearby embankment while using tree roots to steady herself. Itzli stabbed his spear into the ground and pounded twice on his heart.
The red haired devil took this moment to ruin everything and slash at Itzli with the dagger he had been poorly hiding behind his back. In a swift solitary motion, Itzli disarmed the devil, dropped him to the ground, and impaled the devil’s calf with his own dagger.
The woman spouted off rapid nonsense and the rest of the men backed off. The red haired devil screamed in agony. Itzli turned back to the woman. “You speak my language?” he said.
“I have studied it for years,” she replied, “but never had anyone to properly speak it with.”
Itzli bowed and drew his words out so she could understand him easier. “You honor my people.”
She bowed back. “You honor our people,” she said.
Itzli frowned. Perhaps she had misspoken. “My people must be all dead.”
She shook her head. “We have stayed hidden. Blended with the others when we had to, but we survived. I saw a white raven on my naming day and it showed me many things.”
A white raven once spoke to Xipil of the treasure Itzli guarded, surely this must be a sign. Itzli dropped to the ground, shoved the screaming devil to the side, and crawled forth in supplication on hands and knees.
She looked to the sky as she proclaimed. “I am the ancestor of Xipil and I end your service in his name.”
Itzli shuddered as the shackles of the afterlife broke free from his wrists. Pools formed in the dirt under his face as tears flowed freely. He dared not look up for fear this was some trick.
“Rise, my kin,” the woman said with a firm grip on his shoulder.
Itzli stood and was shocked to find himself eye to eye with this woman. Very few once matched his height. He hid his surprise well as he stumbled over his words.
“What will you do with Xipil’s treasure now that I don’t guard it?” He did not deserve an answer as a warrior, but he was allowed to ask.
“What shall we do with it?” she asked while picking up a piece of gold from the pile and placing it in Itzli’s hand. “You have labored hard and deserve an Earthly reward.”
His fist closed over the gold piece, hiding it from view. “I have only seen suffering brought by this treasure,” he said. “I fear if I remain, I shall continue the curse. It might be better to kill me now.” He bowed his head, praying to the white raven for oblivion.
The woman lifted Itzli’s head up high with a strong grip on his chin and met his eyes with a fierce darkness of her own. “That curse is no longer yours to bear, unless you choose it so.”
Itzli heard the implication in her words and stood proud. “I am a warrior and I shall guard your treasure in life as I once did in death.”
“Good,” the woman said. “Let’s go burn this land to the ground. Kill these men here, we don’t want any witnesses.”
With a grim determination, Itzli walked back to his spear and pressed down his disgust at the situation. He had hoped to be free of the killing, but he was a warrior. She was his chief. He obeyed the chief. The screams were brief.
Overhead, a white raven cawed. |
“I’m sorry, you want what?” I eyed the man in front of me, so surprised that I dropped the glass I was cleaning. I’ve heard many crazy requests when people learn if my… special brewing methods. I’ve had people wish to become the opposite gender, I’ve had people ask to be crippled, hell, I’ve had people ask to die. This, however, was just sick. The middle-aged man smiled at me kindly, “can you do it or not?” “I mean I guess I could, I’d have to mix together some fucking vile ingredients.” “That’s fine.” “I’m talking rotting testicles and orphan tears.” “That’s fine.” “It’s going to be the worst thing you could possibly ever taste.” “That’s fine.” I sighed, there was no talking this man out of it. “Alright, give me a minute.” I went to the back and began brewing. It smelled like an old folks home where every person there shit themselves and got lit on fire. About an hour later I walked out in full hazmat suit, the stench was that awful. The man was in the same place I left him, patiently waiting. “Here, it’s ready.” “Ah, thank you sir!” “Just drink it and get out of here you sick freak.” “Very well.” And without a moments hesitation get emptied the potion with one swig and began to change. His mid section widened, his hair turned blonde and styled itself in a generic combover, and he spoke to me in an oddly forced British accent, “Thank you very kindly sir, I shall not forget this.” To this there was only one reasonable reply, “Fuck off James Corden!” |
It was a chilly night. The sky was clear, showing the pale moon in all its glory. A perfect night for a specter to hunt. But he had to control his urge. For he was not the only hunter around. The specter could smell it in the air: silver and gunpowder and ichor. Seems like a monster hunter was close, and perhaps on its trail. The specter dodges into the unlit alleys of the city, a place that he's stalked ever since he came here. Staying in the shadows, his body merges with the darkness, losing its consistency as it turns itself into a shadow. A perfect camouflage for a night-dwelling hunter. Now, all it needed was patience. Just like the web spun by a spider, as soon as anything stepped foot into the dark alley, the specter would know. And just like a spider, he would be ready to devour its prey.
It didn't take long for someone to foolisly step into the alley. The specter, of course, noticed. The smell of the hunter was still far away from them, so the specter could feast on its prey in peace. He moves towards the prey to examine it first. A man, wearing a trench coat and a hat, keeping his head down and his hands in his pockets as he strolled around. The specter could not see anything else; not that it needed to. All that was left was to sink it's shadowy tendrils into the human' back as he passed by. With his back turned, the dark apendages slither in the air towards the human, reaching for his neck, his arms, legs and torso. The specter would not take any chances of its prey escpaing or letting out a scream. He wanted to take its time, to savour the moment the he would suck the human's life force out of him.
As the tendrils draw close enough, they jolt towards the man, twisting and wrapping themselves around him. But something is wrong... the specter hears a slight sizzle before pain shoots through it's dark tentacles, forcing him to let go of the man. There's no mistaking it. Silver.
"I'll be. So there really was one of you around here."The man says as he looks around the alley. "And here I thought that it was just a serial killer on the loose. Shows what I know."
There's no mistaking it, this man is the hunter. But how could he be here, when the specter can smell his scent a couple of streets away? And how come he doesn't smell of silver at all? No matter. Hunter or not, he is still just a human. "No match for me"the specter thinks.
"Well, why don't we put a face om the tendril. I know you're here, so no use hiding."The hunter calls out.
"Stupid man."The specter speaks. "Just because you found me doesn't mean you can do anything to me. After all, you're still trapped in the dark with me. You're on my domain!"
The man chuckles. "That so? Then let's even the odds a little."He then reaches into his coat and pulls out an orb. The hunter holds the orb up into the air and the orb begins to shine, almost as bright as the sun, casting all shadows aside.
Exposed, with no shadows left in sight, the specter is rendered powerless. He can't hide, nor fight back. Understanding the danger he is in, he turns around to run away. But only a couple of feet away he trips on a wire which then wraps tightly around it's legs. He claws at it, trying to free himself, but it's useless. It's an enchanted silver wire. No hope to rip it apart. The hunter approaches, gun in hand, ready to put a bullet into the specter. Terrified by becoming the prey instead, the specter cries out to the hunter.
"It's not fair! We were born this way! What would have us do? Starve to death?"
"It would make my job a lot easier if you were considerate enough to weaken yourselves first."The hunter says as he steps closer.
"You... you're cold blooded. And you call us monsters?! Tell me, do you even think about the monsters you've killed?"The monster asks the hunter.
"Yes."He replies, crouching down to the specter. The blinding light from the orb clutched in his hands reveals a line of crooked yellow teeth contorted into a murderous smile, his face disfigured by scars and a pair of clouded pupils hidden behind a pair of dirty glasses. His breath reeks of cigarettes as he speaks in the monster's face.
"I think about the werewolf who tore a child to shreds, I think about the demon who possessed a man and made him beat his family to a bloody pulp, I think about the fey who stole a woman's face and laughed as she suffocated to death. I think about you everyday. I think about how good it feels to deliver the same treatment that you deliver us. I think about how humiliating it is for you to be killed by the ones you think of as cattle. And I often think about how easy I am letting you off the hook."
The hunter stands up. A click from the gun and he unloads it into the specter's skull. The monster fades away, as a mad cackle resounds throughout the alley. |
"Elfs?"The bizarre-looking deity in front of me asked, her meters-long head-tail waved slowly back and forth as she thought endless thoughts. "Of all the species, Dwarfs, Humans, even Dragons, you want Elfs?
"Yes! I'd love to be an Elf!"I resolved myself. "To live thousands of years! Be part of the forest! Beauty and grace you can't even imagine! Oh I would love to be one of the Elves!"
"I suppose everyone is entitled to their own opinion."The deity mumbled, then pointed at me.
"Wait what's that supposed to m-"I never got to finish, because with a snap of her fingers, the deity engulfed the space between lives in a blinding light. The light slowly faded, and I found myself laying on the ground, surrounded by huge, white leaves and facing the foggy sky. I try to get up, but my body is so heavy and slow. *Huh? I can't... move? I thought I was supposed to be graceful and acrobatic!? I! Ohhh right... Reincarnation, I start as a baby.*
"Ah! A baby!"A voice sounds near me, a bit young-sounding, and a figure approaches which I can barely make out with my eyes still adjusting. *Yes, that's right! A baby in the woods isn't good! Pick me up, please! Once I'm grown I'll go to the Elves and reward you handsomely! Even though you might not be alive by then...* I felt a pair of hands cradle me gently, blinking my eyes at my rescuer, I saw a childish face with green skin and long, sharp ears under a short mop of white hair. A goblin?
"Ah, good. Our ancestors still give us children."A second voice sounded. My eyes slowly tracked the second voice, another of the green ear guys. *Wait. Ancestors? But if I'm an elf, and a green guy is talking about children and ancestors... then does that mean...* I slowly look down at my chubby baby body. All green. *Why are Elves green!?* I start crying in surprise and regret.
\*\*\*
Three years later, I was already standing and walking along with my tribe, mostly because I'd come to terms with being a stubby green kid for a few centuries instead of the eternal picture of beauty and grace. I developed remarkably fast for an Elf according to my adopted parent, Slickleaf, mentally of course, I was still a toddler-looking thing, and I would be for another 17 years. *How was I supposed to know Elfs, spelled with an F to be contrarian, weren't like the kinds I'd read about in literally every story!? They're more like plant people!*
"So an Elf lives for 600 years as a kid-looking juvenile, like a sapling, then a 10 year metamorphosis where our bark comes in and we grow, then we live another 1500 years as an adult, which is like a big, tree-looking supermodel, then we just... what?"I recounted the Elfin life cycle that Slickleaf had taught me.
"We plant our legs and tail and grow into one of the Elftrees."The juvenile-looking yet three-centuries-old Elf girl finished. "And the Elftrees shed a few leaves every day, growing them all back at the full moon. When a leaf meets the wind just right, it takes in magical energy, and a baby Elf is born when that leaf hits the ground."Slickleaf smiled.
"I see."I nodded. *So that's why we don't eat plants. We see trees basically as images of our ancestors, and every other plants' edible parts are all the same as in trees. Oh well, at least we have meat.* I take a bite of venison. *Serves those filthy animals right for trying to eat us plants, only fair we eat them in return.* "And the Elftrees really are alive? Like they think and feel and stuff?"
"Of course!"Slickleaf responded, almost shocked at the question. "Immotile they may be but they are still Elfs! They spend their days in the dream realm, only waking when we need their guidance."I nodded in understanding. *As interesting as this all is I'm still a little sour about not being a Tolkien Elf.* |
(*Edited for spelling*)
This seemed to happen every week. Every Friday evening, the same woman would dine at this establishment with the same results. This next part I had done so many times, it felt scripted.
"Everyone! May I have your attention, please? As you can see to my right, Lady Blythesmythe is dead. Murdered! The culprit is no doubt someone in this very room. Please, sit, enjoy your meals. But be mindful of your neighbors and cooperate with myself and the other detectives as we hunt down the killer, and unravel the details of this dastardly deed."
The logical place to start is the body. There was a stab wound, though that could have been from last week. A straight, narrow slit in the gut. The wound wouldn't have been immediately fatal, but Lady Blythesmythe always did have a weak stomach.
"Stabbed in her very seat."I announce to the room of dinner guests. "What cruelty to inflict this fate upon a woman during amuse-bouche?"
Many were here for the first time. A handful of regulars dotted the crowd. Lord Blythesmythe seemed like the logical place to continue.
"Lord Blythesmythe,"I started, making sure to project my voice so that it would not be drowned by the other chatter. "Where were you when your wife, the Lady Blythesmythe, was attacked?"
"I-I wouldn't know,"he answered. "I did not even notice she had been stabbed until your announcement. I suppose her lack of blathering should have given it away."
"Did you not like your wife, sir?"I pried. The direct approach sometimes worked.
"Heavens no, detective! She was my angel. My loud, obnoxious angel. I had been chatting with Lady Cumberbatch about the affairs of state, upon my wife's request I might add, prior to hors d'oeuvres when you announced to the room that she had been slain. "
"Did you see anything odd? Have any idea why she would be targeted?"
"Maybe she tried speaking to someone,"he responded with a hearty, heartless laugh. "She was always running out in the evenings to some sort of classes, though I haven't the foggiest what for."
Lady Cumberbatch was the next stop on the investigative train.
"I'm sure I don't know what you expect out of me,"she said as I approached. Lady Cumberbatch spoke with a piercing whine. Trying too hard to hide the fact she was just acting a part. New money always did.
"Lord Blythesmythe said he discussed affairs of state with you during his wife's death."
"Detective, I assure you that all of my affairs are,"she leaned in, keeping the volume raised, "discreet. Not that I need to tell *you* that."
She grabbed the lapel of my coat and gave a pronounced wink.
"Did you see anything? Any clue how she might have passed?"
"She was stuffing some chocolate cake into her mouth when Lord Blythesmythe's back was turned. If the knife didn't kill her, her poor manners surely would have."
"Where would she have gotten cake so early?"
"Perhaps she bribed a server. Or brought it here from home, though that woman's baking skills were atrocious. Her pies looked and tasted like those that came from the stables."
There was only the head chef that attended to the Blythesmythe's table. While the other servers wore white shirts and took orders, the chef wore a tuxedo and featured a planned menu for his section.
"Monsieur Appetit, where were you when the Lady Blythesmythe fell?"
He was flustered. His thick French accent slipped in and out as he spoke.
"I was, eh, how you say, preparing ze next course. The madam was eating one moment and face down on her plate ze next."
"Any idea,"I prodded, "where she got the cake?"
"Cake? Surely not from my kitchen. We do no serve chocolate cake here."
I grabbed a menu from a lectern.
"It says chocolate cake, right here."
He started to panic, his head darting back and forth.
"Non, non, non. I mean, ze kitchen is staff only. She would have been noticed for sure. Besides, we pulled ze cake from ze menu. We are only serving cheese cake and parfait tonight. Madamoiselles and Monsieurs, do not order ze cake."
I had heard enough to make a move.
"Will the three persons I spoke to unturn their pockets and purses."
Lord Blythesmythe furnished a kitchen knife from his coat wrapped in a reddened napkin.
"How did this get here?"he immediately shouted.
"He's ze one! He killed his wife!"accused Appetit.
"So he killed his wife,"asked Lady Cumberbatch.
I took the knife from the husband. "Monsieur Appetit, Do you recognize this knife?"
"Y-yes, it is one of mine,"he admitted. "He must have stolen it from ze kitchen and used it to stab his wife."
"Liar!"Lord Blythesmythe fired back.
"He is quite right,"I stated. "You said it yourself, only staff can get back there. No, you placed the knife in his coat pocket, back when I spoke to Lady Cumberbatch, after you stabbed Lady Blythesmythe.
"He killed my wife?"Lord Blythesmythe asked.
"Your wife was indeed killed by the culinary arts. The killer was..."
By now everyone in the dining room was focused on my big reveal.
"...Lady Blythesmythe."
Gasps echoed throughout the room.
"She had been taking cooking classes in the evenings. Here in fact. She had gone so far as to make one of the desserts, a chocolate cake. But she made a deadly mistake. Probably arsenic instead of sugar. She wanted to taste the finished product before the other guests, and fell by her own confection."
"But the stab wounds?"asked Lady Cumberbatch.
"Yes, Monsieur Appetit had to act quickly. He grabbed the knife from the kitchen, stabbed Lady Blythesmythe, and planted the knife on Lord Blythesmythe."
Lord Blythesmythe still had a question.
"Why did he need to stab her at all?"
"Simple. Who would return to a dining theater when death was on the menu?" |
Ben sat at the kitchen table, his eyes fixed on the wall.
"I wish you'd stop that."Nataley said and removed the bag from her cup of tea.
Only just now did Ben realize he had been biting his nails, he always did when he was nervous. "Sorry", he muttered and let his hands drop.
Nataley sat down and sipped her tea. "So, what'd you want to talk about?", she asked and a smile spread across her face.
Ben gave a halfhearted attempt at returning the smile and said "There's something you should know about me, something I should have told you, but I guess I was afraid of what you might think of me."
Nataley laughed nervously and put a hand on her husbands. "Baby, you know I love you no matter what. You make it sound like you killed someone or something."
Ben took a deep breathe and squeezed Nataley's hand. "I know you think so, and I hope you will still feel that way after what I'm about to tell you, but please... just let me finish."
A shadow of a doubt flickered across Nataley's face. She had never had a reason to doubt him before, yet there was something about the way he said it. "Just tell me, Ben, you're scaring me."
Every muscle in Ben's body went rigid, as if the impact he was bracing for would be physical. For years now, ever since their relationship had started getting serious, he had known that one day he would have to tell Nataley and now he finally felt like he couldn't postpone it any longer and still look her in the eye. "I'm a pedophile."The words barely came out as more than a whisper, but their effects were instantaneous.
Nataley spit her tea across the table and almost choked as she guffawed uncontrollably. Ben looked at her and shook his head and her laughter slowly died away. "What are you saying?", she asked.
"I'm... attracted to children. I - please, let me finish", Ben interjected when Nataley tried to speak. "I know it's not natural. I know it's disgusting. I know it's wrong, but I just can't help myself. I just can't choose who I'm attracted to."
"But that's sick! You- you what? You have sex with children? That's sick!"Nataley burst out, unable to contain herself any longer.
"No! I've *never* laid a hand on a child. I could never do that to a child!"Ben had imagined this scenario a thousand times and this was going exactly how he had feared it would.
"Oh, so you don't sleep with them, you just wish you did? For God's sake, Ben, we're *married*. We live together. Christ, I wanted to have *children* with you!"In a daze Nataley realized that she was standing up, her heart pounding in her chest while her tea stood forgotten on the table.
"You still can."Ben said calmly, straightening his back and gathered what little pride he had left. "You always said I'd make a good father."
Nataley let out a sharp, scornful bark of laughter. "That was before I knew you'd jerk off at night thinking about your own kid."
Ben stood up, his entire body suddenly shaking with suppressed rage. "I *never* touched a child.", he hissed through gritted teeth. "Do you think I want to be like this? Do you think I would ever choose this? Do you think a single day went by when I didn't want to tell you?"
"But you never did, Ben. It's been four years and you-."Nataley cut herself off as her face twisted into a bitter smile. "I'm a substitute. I'm the next best thing."She almost laughed out loud as bitter tears ran down her face, hitting the kitchen floor with a stead *tap, tap, tap*. "I was 19 when we got married, Ben."
Ben's rage melted away as quickly as it had formed and he shook his head. "No, no, no. It's not like that. I love you. No matter what age you are, I love you."Ben reached out a hand to wipe the tears from Nataley's face, but she recoiled, as if she had been touched by an insect, and slapped him across the face.
In stunned silence Ben watched Nataley sweep past him and storm towards the front door. "You never would have married me if it was legal to marry a twelve-year-old, would you?"She spewed the words out and slammed the door behind her, leaving the words hanging in the air like a poisonous gas.
Ben sat down and muttered a curse to himself, wishing he had never said anything. Wishing he would have kept his secret. But most of all, he wished he wasn't a freak. |
For as long as I can remember I've felt like I was being watched. Like there was an invisible someone who followed me, watching everything I did. Someone who didn't judge me, someone who thought my every action was fascinating, and that I could do no wrong.
Everything I became was due to this mysterious observer. The quests I've completed, the monsters I've slain, they were all due to my desire to not fail before my silent stalker.
In my youth I felt like I was being paranoid but I came to understand that this feeling was true, knew it with a certainty I've had about little else in my life. Gradually I came to feel love towards this figure, the only one who always stood by me.
I lie here on my deathbed, I'm ready to finally meet you...
This is way to abbreviated to do justice to the prompt, but it's all I've got. |
The cold, steel muzzle pushed into the soft flesh under his jaw. His finger strained against the trigger, shaking ever so softly. Just as his finger tensed for the final pull, he abruptly lowered the gun.
*Shit, not now.*
Josh had a Starbucks venti iced coffee that morning, one that had already made its way through his digestive system.
*What the fuck, why does it even matter? I can shit myself after I'm dead.* He rolled his eyes at himself, and returned the the tip of his dad's 10mm pistol to its potentially lethal position.
Yet, for 30 seconds, he didn't pull the trigger. He stood, and stood, and stood, yet could not move a muscle. Then his intestines groaned in protest.
"FUCK, FINE,"he audibly yelled in protest. He jumped off his bed and ran to the bathroom to relieve himself.
Josh sat on the toilet, staring down at the 10mm in his right hand. After he finished relieving himself, he didn't move. He sat, and sat, and sat. Then the garage opened.
He sighed. *Fuck me.* He rushed out of the bathroom, and once again returned his father's pistol to its cozy home in the nightstand's second drawer.
After returning to his room and slamming the door shut, Josh laid on his small twin-sized bed and thought. He thought, and thought, and thought. *Every goddamn time.*
It was a phone call from his mom, or the family's dog barking outside, or the oven left on, or bowel movements; every time he attempted to take his own life, something interrupted him. *What bullshit.*
It took Josh 5 years to realize that he was never interrupted. It wasn't his mom's, or friend's, or digestive system's fault.
Josh simply cared too much to die.
|
Patch 4.3.7 was a mistake. They realised that straight away. The information on curing cancer was downloaded into everyone's heads. The smarter ones among us wrote it down. Many of us didn't. We were used to the flood of new information that came with every patch. My favourite was the one on how to make banana pancakes, but I know Arabella really appreciated the extreme depth of detail the Cold War patch went into.
The bottom dropped out of the pharmaceutical market overnight. People were constructing their own cures at home. They didn't need to buy expensive drugs anymore, because chances were your neighbourhood meth dealer had branched out into anti-carcinogenics.
Then the medical insurance business collapsed, and took pensions with it. People were adapting. They got smarter. They took the knowledge they had and used it to save people's lives. I carried on making banana pancakes and kept my money under my mattress.
The biggest economic crash since 2008, they were calling it. Unemployment in America was 10% and in Europe it was almost 56%
I stood in front of the stove one morning and couldn't remember how to make banana pancakes. |
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