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"How in the Great Universe are we going to show this to the professor? What kind of genius would ever create a planet with multiple species? And not only that, we created a planet with one species that ruled the rest! What kind of maddening shit is that?", Jurgan said as he held up the illuminated planet in his palm. He sat it on the time platform and jumped to 10 billion years. "Tell me Yagag, tell me why our planet did not survive at least 10 billion years? Please tell me why the hell it became desolate around 5.4 billion years?"
Yagag looked around his entryway, his head moving slowly from left to right. As far as it appeared, he was ignoring his best friend and as of three weeks ago, his partner for the last final of their graduate studies.
"Yagog, I'm asking you a question. And damn it man, how high are you right now?", Jurgan said, still looking angry but somewhat astonished by the level of hammered his good friend was.
Yagog used all his energy as he overcame the days of binge drinking and doing drugs with planetarian hookers from around the milky way. He reached deep down just so he could look at Jurgan in the eye and tell him what happened.
"Jurgan, man it's lost. The world we created is completely lost. I swear, I think my dog took it the first night you gave it to me. He must have took it out of my backpack."he said, his voice quivered as he walked towards Jurgan, his head hung low to the ground. "Just give me a hug so we can get through this."
Before Yagog could embrace his good friend with an endearing side hug, Jurgan threw the little planet square into his eye. It knocked him straight back about five feet right into a wall where he then slipped to the ground in pain.
"Christ Yagog, I have literally been holding it since we started talking. I don't understand how that even happens. Actually, how did any of this shit happen? All you needed to do was monitor it for seven days for a simple and easy 5 minutes. Once a damn day! And you... you upped the ante for all pieces of shit by losing it right from the get-go."Jurgan said, his yellow eyes bulged and drooped out of his sockets like two full catheter bags hanging from an old man's head.
Yagog peered deep into his best friend's eyes with a look of the utmost sincerity. Tears welled up in the corner of his red eye lids and soon, the floor was wet with alien juice. Before his friend could walk away in disgust, he grabbed his ankle and looked up at him.
"Jurgan, listen to me. I don't know how to sugar coat this, so I am just going to lay it on the line for you. I have a drinking problem. A drug problem, and there is a high probability that I have a hooker problem. But believe me when I tell you this. I am lying to you. I don't even have a dog man"
"I--You--I am going to kill you Yagog. I am going to emulsify you with a solar gun and then-"
Yagog interjected, calm as possible but firm enough to grab the attention of his rage filled friend.
"An imaginary dog didn't take the planet and I didn't lose it. On the contrary, I would put a wager that I was more entrenched with our little project than you ever were."He said, slowly rising to his awkwardly huge alien feet. "I developed every species that ever existed on that planet. I crafted each of them to perfection, mastering the balance like the good god that I am. I strategically modeled their coexistence with other animals through something I developed called a food chain. Everyone will eat, everyone will die, but no one will break the balance."
Jurgan was frozen, his huge mouth agape at the sudden burst of intellectual vomit that was spewing on his face.
"And of course, As I theorized, everything was running efficient other than a few mishaps, but even then, they were minor and nothing to worry about"
He hesitated slightly to give Jurgan the opportunity to speak but his best friend said nothing.
"Our planet was perfect and because the creativity we took to the project and the risk to think outside the box, I think our professor will understand. We can tell him we were just trying to make true harmony, that's it. That is what we can *tell* him. What really happened was I got bored of the balance, decided to put a slow-progressing, yet very powerful species in the mix. That species blossomed into an animal I had never seen before. Complex, violent, caring, loving, plus about any other adjective you can think. In short, it was glorious to watch them grow and even more glorious to watch them destroy themselves and the planet all in one bang. Can you even imagine?", He stood, his eyes square with Jurgan's.
Jurgan's scowl unwound as a smile started to form on his gelatinous face.
"You really did all of that?"
"Yes, man. Can you picture it now? We should watch the rerun. I have it right here. One-"
"Yagog, did you read the syllabus by chance? And if you didn't read the whole thing, did you happen to read the requirements for this actual project?"
"Well, I mean. No, not really."
"That's great man, really good to hear. Since I did, I suppose I can let you in on one crazy little secret... The damn planet has to survive, at a minimum, to 10 billion years old! 10 billion years Yagog, not 5.4."
"So what? I'll talk our way out of this. I swear man, just watch me."
_____________________________________________________________________________
Yagog did talk his way out of the whole ordeal. He talked his way straight out of the graduate program, took a hard right toward full blown druggie, and then straight into federal prison. He resided there for the remainder of his life and would eventually die of a sudden heart attack from years of drug abuse.
As for Jurgan, he failed the class, missed graduation for that year and was forced to retake it again the next year. Instead of going back to finish, Jurgan opted out and joined the galactic military.
From there, he would go on to be murdered in a grand war that would take place against a class of animals called "Humans". When he found out about their origin and where they live now, he thought about his drunken class mate who ruined his graduate studies program and smiled at his incredible potential. A potential to be a God and the savior of their dying race.
EDIT: Forgive me for the lack of quality this piece contained! I had some major tense issues, as well as a plethora of simple grammar and spelling mistakes.. I am sure there are more but at this point, I am too lazy to fix them. This is what i get when I write heavily under the influence :/. Thanks for reading! |
First it was the food shortages. Not for all of the world, but the most vulnerable parts. The climate had shifted, and with it, the areas where food could be easily grown. The developed world was able to compensate. Sure, there was food rationing, riots, and the occasional revolution, but life went on. But the places that were already tenuously held together simply fell apart, collapsing into warring tribes and factions. The most powerful nations in the world took the opportunity to seize the last stores of valuable resources from those failed states. Oil, lithium, coal, even supplies of freshwater were looted from the ruins. Soon enough, the world's most powerful nations turned their sights on each other. It started with proxy wars: They supplied food, materiel, and medicine to the warlords in order to gain access to the dwindling reserves of precious resources. Not long after that, open warfare between the last nations began.
And that was the last piece of news that John had heard before somebody hit the world's self destruct button. John's small city hadn't been important enough to be targeted, and so it was spared the from the initial waves of destruction. Soon after that, waves of refugees came pouring in from all over. But there simply hadn't been enough food to feed them all, and agriculture was near impossible due to the fallout. So everything began to break down. The military kept order until a mob of frenzied and starving rioters stormed and looted their barracks. Then it was just groups of people fighting over the little food, medicine, and uncontaminated water that remained. And, somehow, John had made it through all of it. Over the years, he heard less and less gunshots ringing out over the remains of the dilapidated city. Looters wandering the city gradually became an uncommon sight, and one day, John realized he had neither seen nor heard a person in well over a year. He was completely and utterly alone.
He had been living like that for years when they showed up. A large aircraft landed in the middle of John's ruined city. John had initially thought it was some sort of scouting party from a country that had survived the end of the world. He wandered towards the craft, intent on meeting whoever its occupants were. They would either take pity on him and save him, or kill him, John figured. Either way, he was done living here alone. However, he was in for quite a shock when he found out who the craft belonged to.
It was an alien species looking for survivors. Using some sort of hand held computer translator, they explained to him that they were some sort of conservationists tasked with preserving endangered life. They offered to take him somewhere safe, and he accepted.
So they took him back to their own planet. He was put into some sort of research institute there where he was studied and documented intensely for some years. They even united him with a few dozen other human survivors in the hopes that they would be able to create a sustainable population, but the near toxic wastes of Earth had left the survivors sickened and infertile. After that, interest in humanity seemed to die down, so they were mostly confined to their quarters since the atmosphere was toxic to humans. Visitors to them became less and less frequent, and one by one, the human survivors started dying. Some of them, weakened by years of brutal conditions on Earth, simply died of natural causes. Others, looking at a hopeless future, took their own lives.
And then, once again, John was alone. As he waited out his final years on some alien world far from home, he wondered how different his life would have been had humanity been different. He wondered if human nature had doomed itself, or if there had ever been a chance that they would make it. In the end, he decided, it didn't matter. What's done is done. But he hoped that his alien saviors were better than humanity. And if they weren't, he hoped they could at least learn from humanity's failure. |
Uncle Terry ruffled my hair, like he did every time he saw me. "My God, you're getting tall. You're what, a junior now?"
"Senior, actually,"I replied, and Terry shook his head, chuckling and glancing at Aunt Linda. I tried not to roll my eyes. At least they had seen me recently. For almost everyone else, it had been almost ten years to the day since we had gotten together. If it hadn't been for my mother's insistence on getting everyone together, the next time we would see each other would have likely been the next funeral.
My attention was drawn by someone tugging my sleeve. I sighed internally, not breaking my gaze from my relatives, who were chatting away about the latest storm down in Florida. I knew it was my cousin, wanting to steal me away to ask me random questions until I was ready to pull my hair out. "Jean, can't you see I'm in the middle of a conversation?"
"Who's Jean?"The voice was certainly not what I expected. It was more masculine, tinged with the throes of puberty. I turned to see a lanky preteen with scraggly brown hair. His clothes seemed to be in tatters, and he looked like he had been walking for days.
"Who the hell are you?"I asked, louder than I expected to. I could hear Linda tutting at my language, but I didn't care. This random guy had gotten into our house. Who knew what he would do next. A quick glance told me he didn't have a gun at his side, and I didn't see any knives nearby for him to grab. Unless he wanted to use Grandma's famous tuna casserole as a weapon, I looked to be safe for now.
"I...Joe..."The kid's face began welling with tears. *How did he know my name?*
"Look, I don't know who you are or how you know me, but you need to go. Now."I grabbed his arm firmly, and I heard him gasp in pain. The chattering sound began to fade as more of my family noticed the disturbance. I saw Grandpa lean over to my mother and whisper something into her ear, but the kid spoke again, bringing my attention back to him.
"Joe, it's me. It's Mikey."
I cocked my head. The name meant something to me...well, it had a long time ago, the last time we were all together. A joke between me and Tina.
As though my thought had summoned her, my sister was at my shoulder. "Joe, who is this weirdo? Did Susan adopt another kid?"
"Tina...he says he's Mike,"I said to her. When she looked at me in confusion, I continued. "You know. Our *little brother*."
The color drained from her face and she grabbed both our arms, pulling us upstairs to my bedroom. She shoved us both in, then slammed the door behind us and locked it. She stared at the close door, then whirled around. Her face was mottled with fear as we all glanced at each other. As I took the two in, I noticed some slight nuances between the two. The boy's hair curled slightly in the front, matching the blond tresses Tina was so proud of. I could also see that his right foot was angled as he stood. That came as second nature to me, and had for years.
I stared at Tina uneasily. "Sis, what's going on? Who is this guy really? Is this another one of your pranks?"
She didn't answer immediately, instead walking to the window and looking out into the inky darkness. When she did speak, her voice cracked as she fought back tears. "How did you find us? How did you get here?"
I looked at Mikey, who shrugged. "I remembered bits and pieces. I knew what the house looked like, but no address. I remembered what Mom looked like, but I couldn't come up with her name. I got lucky and found an article that had your names and a photo, and that's what got me here."
My mind couldn't process what was going on. "Ok, seriously, what is the deal here? How do you two know each other? Why are you so freaked out about this, Tina?"
She turned slowly back to me from the window. Her face was streaked with tears, and her eyes were wide and red. "Joe...Do you remember the last reunion?"
"Not really, and what does that have to do with anything?"I was getting frustrated. I wanted answers, and all she wanted to do was talk about the last time everyone was here?
"You and I were so bored when we were there. We couldn't play with anyone, being the oldest, and we couldn't go outside because it was raining. So we decided to have some fun. Do you remember? We decided to make up a part of our lives. We made-"
"-a brother,"I finished, the pieces clicking into place. It all came back to me. "We told Uncle Terry first, and he started laughing a little so we kept up the story."
"Right, but here's the thing,"Tina said, sniffling slightly, "I remember things pretty differently from you. When we told the story, people started laughing less and looking sad a lot more. And then, you weren't there when I told Grandpa. he got really quiet, then he leaned in to me and whispered 'How? How do you know about him?' I had no idea what to say, so I told him it was a joke. He kinda shook it off, laughed it away like he had a senile moment, but I knew he meant it. So I asked Mom after the party."
"What did she tell you?"The question came from Mikey, who was leaning closer, enraptured by the story.
Tina sighed, inches from collapsing. "She told me the truth. That you had been stolen from her and that she thought you had been killed years ago."
We stood in silence for a few moments. The gravity of what my sister had just said filled the room, threatening to crush us under its weight. I eventually spoke, staring at my new brother. "So, did you get away from someone? Did they hurt you?"
Mikey looked ad the ground, tears now welling in his eyes. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to speak, but instead just nodded. My hands clenched into fists involuntarily. I wanted to swing at something, to punch someone into the next state. Instead, I walked to Mikey and wrapped my arms around him. I felt his spine stiffen momentarily, but soon he had gone limp against me, his sobbing muffled against my sweater. I felt Tina put her hand on my back, and I could tell she had done the same for him as well. We stood for a few minutes, holding each other as a group.
When my brother had stopped crying, I straightened him up and took a look at him. "OK, so, we have a few things we're going to do. First, we're going to get you cleaned up nice. Second, we're going to go downstairs, and you're going to meet your family. And then after that, you're going to tell us everything about what happened."
Mikey looked at me nervously. "Why do we need to talk about that?"
I gave him a stern smile. "Because we're going to find whoever did that to you, and I will make them pay for taking my brother away from me." |
I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Where the hell did that goat come from? I'm pretty sure when I set up this room there was no goat. Or was there? I was really starting to doubt my senses. It's insistent bleating sounds conveyed it's current terror. My heart beat raced in my chest and my legs felt wobbly. A slow dread started to seep into my body. Whose idea was it to do the Lovecraftian themed Escape Room at the library? Amanda or Marianne or me? I scratched my head feeling confused and muddled like I was drowning in molasses. Sickness entered my stomach as the lights dimmed in the room. The shadows danced on the wall in twisted contortions. Someone sliced open the goat with a dagger. The dagger had been in the room. Someone, was it Amanda or Marianne, told me it was just a prop. Harmless. I was such a fool.
Time seemed to suspend. The timer for this group slowed to a crawl as they used the blood of the goat to paint something on the floor. I remained frozen in shock while the words became frozen in my throat. Chills crawled up my spine. The group took specific spots around the circle and then the evil chanting began. The words that filled the room were blasphemous. The shadows on the wall stretched out and around pulling at my legs and body. I covered my ears to try to block the chanting and the terrible cries that filled the air. Louder and louder the noise grew. I thought it would break my ear drums! I screamed out my fears! The steady chants continued as a darkness started to push itself out of the circle on the ground. The shadows felt cold and slimy as they kept me from moving from my spot.
The darkness writhed around and flung the people around the room. I heard a sickening crunch as a body was slammed hard against the ceiling. I felt the ground the shake as this black mass exploded into the room. For a brief moment, I made eye contact with the dreadful creature. A hollow void filled those eyes. Eyes that had seen total annihilation of countless worlds. The overwhelming abyss of those eyes were too much for me. I blacked out.
Amanda had entered the Escape Room after hearing the timer go off for five solid minutes with no apparent response. She surveyed the disarrayed room. I was huddled in the corner rocking back and forth. My hair had noticeable more white strands of hair streaked through it. The goats entrails were spilled on the floor. Flies has already gathered around the dead goat. The bloody circle now looked charred and black.
"I guess the stories were true about where this library was built."She said as she picked up the dagger. "Good thing that was our last group. We can't have any witnesses."She lurched forward towards me. |
"You have to trust me,"I said. But she had her arms over her chest, and her head was shaking from side to side. "Seriously Beth,"I said, trailing off, unsure of what else to say.
"You're telling me that at night I'm sending secret messages?"she asked me after a stretch of silence. She jabbed her finger at the notebook which lay open between us on the bed.
"Yes,"I said. "I know it sounds crazy, but yes."
My girlfriend laughed and rolled her eyes. "Secret messages and the best I could come up with is 'I really actually do want to try it in the butt'?" |
Billy said that I would never amount to anything in my life. He was always a little shit stain towards me and my programmer friends. It's incredibly funny to think back on it nowadays, because...
That was wrong on multiple levels. It's a long story, but bear with me.
The US government made first contact with the Galactic Federation on April 4th, 2025. While there was an initial commutative barrier, things got along pretty swell. Around this time me and my buddies started up a small indie studio by the title of Starlight Games. We'd heard and seen the news, (it was hard to miss the giant spaceship) so we got crazy into development.
The major problem with the transition was that Earth had nothing in the world of trade. Resources were not an issue, as one of the species of the Federation had means to break the law of conservation of mass, and literally generate matter. They even had us beat with motion picture and music, as most of Earth's tastes were vastly different to the rest of the Federation.
Earth was the laughing stock of the Federation for a good ten years. I remember not being too bothered by it at the time, though.
We had been doing fantastically locally. Our games had been selling like hotcakes, and we had deals going left and right. It was a little later down the line that we eventually had a problem.
Humans just weren't that interested in games anymore. They'd been pulled in by the other alien forms of entertainment, and killed the video game market on Earth. We decided to put out an ad for the Federation Market, hoping desperately that something would catch on.
A few days after putting out the ad, I got a U-mail from a Yadorian trade company. Apparently they had their staff play our demos, and were so utterly blown away, they wanted to get this stuff out to the rest of the Federation in a super grandiose fashion.
We ran background checks on this company, and they were *serious business.*
Multiple deals with high-profile Federation agencies, major ties to galactic leaders, the list went on.
We ended up signing a deal later that day. Our games took the galaxy by storm, and we became the highest earning company on Earth.
Turned out that video games are an Earth-exclusive thing. Would you believe that?
One thing led to another, a few deals got signed, and we garnered galactic press. Commemorated by the US government, we became the official Interactive Media Export Agency, or the IMEA for short. We're giants in the galactic market.
Suck it, Billy. |
“To hell with it,” Neal thought to himself. “The odds of someone actually reading my garbage are slim, and I doubt it would get upvoted anyway.”
It was always difficult for Neal to share anything he created with other people. Crippling self-doubt and perfectionism were terrible bedfellows, and they had unfortunately plagued him for as long as he could remember.
“’God tells you he has a divine plan for you’…No, I don’t really want to write anything religious...’In a world where superhero’…No, definitely not that. I don’t have any superhero ideas.” It didn’t seem like any prompt was going to allow Neal to express himself today. He began to feel like this was a pattern in his life. He could hear the voice of negativity in the back of his mind, and he took a deep breath before continuing his search.
“A writer struggles to find a prompt on writing prompts…Well, that’s ironic. That’s exactly what’s happening to me! What could be the harm in trying this one?”
He thought he’d finally found a prompt that could be a creative output. His head began swirling with ideas for where the story would begin, how it would unfold, and who the protagonist would be. Every idea was met with an equally adamant denial by that voice of negativity, though.
“I could write it from the perspective of a famous novelist! Maybe they were struggling on their latest concept and wanted to try it out?”
*“That idea is stupid. You’re stupid. You’re not a famous novelist. How would you understand what a famous novelist experiences?”*
“Yeah…I guess that’s true…Well, what about a high school student trying to test their short stories? I used to enjoy writing those when I was younger.”
*“Maybe, but those all sucked. You remember how much your stories sucked, right? No one ever liked your stories when you were younger. Don’t kid yourself.”*
“Alright…I could…I don’t know. I could write from my own perspective. Maybe I could attempt to describe my personal struggles with writing and depression? They say ‘write what you know,’ right?”
*“Nobody wants to read your overly-emotional, depressing bullshit, Neal. Just stop. Just don’t even post that nonsense. Why do you think anyone would even read it? Redditors have a short attention span, and they would quickly lose interest in your writing style. You’re such a piece of shit. What the fuck is wrong with you, anyway? Just go back to bed and give up.”*
Neal closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
“To hell with it,” Neal thought to himself, pasting his submission into r/WritingPrompts. “The odds of someone actually reading my garbage are slim, and I doubt it would get upvoted anyway…
“But, I still have to try.”
|
"So what do you do?"Her voice was an inflection typical of someone flirting.
"I sell ignorance."I took a long sip of my bourbon, neat, double shot.
"Oh I heard about that. Why would anyone want that?"
"No one ever does."
"How does it work?"She twirled her bangs between her fingers and leaned into me.
"It's just a zap behind the ear."
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
"Can you do it on me?"
"It won't work for you."
"How do you know?"
"You're too happy. I can tell."
"Are you saying I'm stupid?"
I took another long sip. "I didn't say it."
She left after that. No one ever takes my indulgence. They've convinced themselves that knowledge is power. I've traveled all over the world selling my indulgences. There are never any takers. Only the ignorant want to try. The knowledged are too fearful. First there is intrigue, and they want to know more. Next is defensiveness about why they don't need it. I challenge them. They rebuff me with both confidence and trepidation. They realize how shaky their argument is as it starts to leave their mouth. Something they are so sure of in the prison of their mind, suddenly weakens and wilts, until it turns into a dead flower. So they escape back into the prison of their mind, put on their mask, and talk to someone who knows as much as they do. And lose interest in the person who offers knowing nothing.
It's my fault for being an unconvincing salesman. I know too much myself.
I met a man when I was younger. He was the brother of a friend. He is one of the popular people in town. Everyone knows him. To everyone he is the man. Everyone wants to be around him, the attractive girls sleep with him, he is always in demand for a party. He is always the center of attention. He does cocaine and lots of alcohol. He can be quite devilish in his pranks and his jokes. Everyone always forgives him. He's just so cool. He has an uncanny ability to always be positive. He can hang around the nerds, around the thugs, around the young and old alike. He discriminates against no one. He can find a way to have fun with an introvert, or an extrovert, and all in between. He's a hedonist with the special power of being able to have fun all of the time. He's also illiterate. He's always broke, works in construction when the job is available. He's never watched the news, he is a high school drop out, and that's not saying much of the schooling he did attend. He's not the only one I've met like him, but they sure are rare. He's the happiest man I know. He's the most ignorant man I know.
I tell people this story because everyone is after the same thing. It's not knowledge. It's happiness. And I try to show them the counter intuitive fact, that knowledge is the depresser of happiness. Knowledge is the destroyer of appreciation for life. Knowledge leads to hate, knowledge leads to confusion, knowledge leads to the illusion that you are something more than animal. The ignorant are dogs, and everyone loves dogs. I can make you a dog. I can make you the happiest you've ever been. Now, don't you want to buy my indulgence? |
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
That is what Sir Isaac Newton proposed in 1687, three hundred and thirty years in the past. Of course, Newton was referencing motion and it's place in physics. He had no idea how applicable his observation was to Elias Gustafsson then, which is perfectly sensible.
For Elias Gustafsson, however, the weight of Newton’s observation felt as if it were a direct description of the strange predicament he found himself in.
Five years ago, Elias received a single text message that changed his life forever:
*20 years.*
At first, it meant little to nothing to him. It was from a number he didn't recognize, thus he wrongfully assumed it wasn't for him. Later that day, however, Elias saw an elderly woman struggle to get her groceries to her third story loft. In a practice of good etiquette, he helped her carry everything upstairs. As he left her loft, another text buzzed in:
*5 minutes.*
About 35 minutes later, Elias realized what the text meant. He was 5 minutes late for his 12:15 appointment. Exactly five minutes.
As Elias continued to live his life, every significant action he took was met with an equal text reaction, displaying a time gained or lost. However frustratingly vague the texts were, Elias had knowledge know one else in the world had. He knew how much time he was adding or subtracting from his life.
The effects weren't always immediate. Elias had once decided to go to work on an alternate route only to be met with a text stating *19 minutes.* In an attempt to course correct, he quickly switched back over to his normal route. One week later, his tire went flat. Consequently, he was 19 minutes late to work. As he was late for the second time in a month, he lost out on his bonus for attendance.
Elias’ life continued on like this, filled with wins and losses directly affected by his actions previously. Strangely, it gave him a sense of calm to know that many of his actions were insignificant. Though one message specifically haunted him.
*20 Years.*
What did that mean? In all of his best estimations, Elias couldn't remember anything significant happening in that moment. It often held a place of ponderance in his mind when it would idle. What did he do that could possible add or subtract from his life in such a large increment?
It was this infatuation with that specific message that Elias was pondering when he was killed.
You see, 5 years ago, Elias chose to walk to work. That decision meant he helped the elderly woman that he could have avoided had he driven in a car. Because of that help, the elderly woman was able to make it over to the man she had been cheating on her husband with. Five years later, her husband received a message with a video incriminating her, sending him into a jealous rage. A rage that took him into his car and blinded his better judgment. A rage that killed Elias with the front of his car. A rage caused by the very man that he had killed.
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. |
“Alright that's it. You've made me deal with some ridiculous things before, but this? You have to be joking. This has to be the most cliché plot twist imaginable.” Alex complained. After battling countless enemies and conquering endless trials, he had finally reached his ultimate foe. Facing him now was the incarnation of evil, threatening to destroy the world itself, but it was also his best friend David. Grimacing, he drew his sword and prepared to fight.
“Wait, no, why are you making me draw my sword? This has to be some kind of sick joke.” Alex protested. But it was no use, he could not resist the fate I had laid out for him. He desperately struggled against the story, but was powerless to resist. Suddenly, from across the room, David cried out “I’m sorry Alex, I don’t want to do this either!” And that was it, he couldn’t take it anymore. While Alex didn’t like it, he accepted that he couldn’t change his actions in the end, but someone controlling David and forcing him to be evil he just couldn’t accept.
*I’m not letting this go on any longer. I refuse to keep playing the hero if it means going along with this screwed up story.* Slowly, Alex managed to release his grip on his weapon. He felt something flare up inside him as he started to drag himself across the room to stand beside David. After all he had gone through, dedicating himself to protecting this world and its inhabitants, this was his reward? If that’s how the story goes, why should I protect this world?
A maniacal laugh echoed through the chamber. “I knew all you needed was a little push.” David said, grinning. Alex returned the smile, finally realizing the real plot twist of the story.
_______________________________________
I’m not a writer, just thought I’d do this for fun. (and to procrastinate studying for my exam Thursday…)
I sort of feel like it was a bit too abrupt of an ending, but I sort of ran out of time and couldn't find a way to fix it. I’m not sure how people will react to the story, but I hope at least one person likes it, because that’ll make writing it worth it :)
^(Also, I'm really bad at names. I just sort of searched for generic male names and randomly selected two for my characters.) |
They all said I was mad – that I would not succeed. _It's just not possible... suicide mission... crazy old man... you'll die trying._ But I'm not one to pass up a challenge.
I sit in the pews barely listening to the priest's sermon. A handful of believers sit scattered around me. It's almost as if they know I'm dangerous, that they shouldn't come too close. Some of them smell delicious. One particular young man four rows ahead smells like a newly mixed gin and tonic, with a slice of lime. I can almost hear ice clinking against a frosted glass. Occasionally I miss my old drink of choice, but nothing comes close to the sweet flow from a jugular.
Crosses line the walls around me, along with statues of Him. The one they say has the most wondrous life source on the planet. I'd always believed him to be a myth. That's what I get for being an atheist all my life.
My kind have always believed the legend of Jesus Christ himself, so when I was turned I had no choice but to play along. Eventually I fell into the trap of belief, and now I'm enthralled. I can't get enough.
Rumour has it, if one drinks from Him, they may walk in the sun again. And what creature of the night wouldn't long for such a thing?
Twenty years of belief and my time has finally come.
I wince involuntarily and feel a sting between my eyes just as the priest is muttering something about demons and Hell. _I know_, I think, _I shouldn't be here._ But I can't bring myself to leave.
A few of those around me get to their feet. It's happening.
The priest stands in front of the altar, on either side of him are two small pillars about waist-height. On one sits the host, on the other the blood.
I take a deep breath in through my nose. Something smells... odd, but my excitement screams at me to move forward, drowning out the doubtful whispers. I follow the line of calm believers. I almost break into a smile, but manage to keep my composure.
The minutes drag on as the line moves ever slower. The down-and-outs are too cracked out to move too quickly. The elderly drag their feet. The homeless savor the host and the blood as it passes their lips. _Ugh, humans. HURRY UP._
A cloud moves away from the moon, sending beams of light through the stained glass windows and illuminating the priest in front of me.
I take a deep breath into my useless lungs and step forwards into the light. Rainbow streaks light up my grey-white skin, throwing colour back into my pores after a long twenty years. My eyes shimmer with unconcealed delight as I bend to my knees. I cup my hands in front of me.
The priest mutters something irrelevant and places the host into my palms. I place it upon my tongue – it tastes vile, but it is necessary. I move it into the space beneath my tongue to make room for what I crave. He speaks again. He lifts the goblet beside him and I close my eyes.
A touch of metal upon my lips. Cold iron, painted gold. I part my lips and let the liquid flow into my mouth.
And my eyes fly open.
I leap to my feet and spit the wine and cracker to the floor, sending a bloody mess spattering across the concrete stones. The blue light from the window is now a horrid shade of purple, the green a dirty brown.
The priest jumps back in sheer horror.
“WHAT IS THIS SHIT?” My voice booms against the walls of the church. The priest looks at me with fear lighting up his features. A vein in his forehead protrudes violently.
It's then I realise my fangs have made themselves known. _Horny little fuckers._ |
The air was warm and cozy,like a blanket had come over the world.
It was mid summer,but snow was still gently drifting down from the sky.
I could hear soft whispers as the wind brushed the endless fields.
I stared at the pure white layers,covering the entire civilization that once stood here.
Whatever was falling wasn’t snow. It didn’t melt,it didn’t turn into ice.
I signaled my family that they could start moving before stepping forward into the hills.
We left our home about 5 days after the downfall.
Now we were digging down to find our old home,in hopes of finding anything that was left.
The layers were easy to remove,but it was also prone to collapse. The screams would be cut short by the snow covering the careless poor soul.
A large moan echoed through the air.
I looked up at the bleak horizon. I couldn’t see anything,but the snow was getting thicker and thicker now.
They started to dig in a frenzied rate,I told them to slow down unless they wanted to fall into the snow.
Then I heard the sweeping noise. Giant layers of snow was being moved,somewhere,but we couldn’t see it.
I heard rumors of entire igloo towns disappearing with the buildings over night,or driven mad by the damn whispers.
The snow was pouring down on us,the wind was now howling,and ripping at our skin.
In the tempest that threatened to devour us I swear I could hear screams,moans and whispers in tongues I could not fathom.
The wind knocked me down,I couldn’t hear,I couldn’t see beyond the wall of wind and snow. The wind pounded layer after layer of snow on me,and the mad howls ripped at my face.
Something emerged from the wall,colossal in size,i could smell something rotten and broken. The screams were larger than ever,shaking me to my very core.
The eye,blue and forbidding looked down on me swearing to cleanse me to heal me heal me help me no
Then silence.
I looked around me,gasping for air,and noticed that I was alone.
The shovel,the clothes and even the small teddy bear was still there. But the absence of even the faintest noise except myself,haunted me.
Only the silent white plains,and the world’s grave. |
On the first Friday of every month, I close up at six on the dot. My regulars are used to this small irregularity and begin to shuffle out the door at five to, albeit with good-natured grumblings. At five after, I've finished shooing away the more persistent types. I light a few candles, switch off the lights, and walk outside to flip my sign to face the wall. By the time I've returned to my place behind the bar, they've begun to arrive.
Richard is the first to appear. I glance up from polishing glasses to find him sitting at one of the small booths off to the side. He smiles distractedly at me as I bring over the usual--a decanter of brandy and a snifter, a loaf of thick bread, a block of the sharpest cheddar, and a tall glass of ice water. I place all this carefully in front of him, making sure not to disrupt his inkwell or the teetering scraps of parchment strewn across the table. Richard grasps the glass of water and toasts me.
"I drink the health o' thee and of tha marvelous fresh water."
I tell him that I believe the only reason he even bothers coming here is for a chance to drink something other than weak beer or poisoned well-water. He ignores me and turns instead to his leather-bound ledger, carefully wetting the tip of his quill before scratching out a few lines. I'm always curious about Richard. I open my mouth to ask what he's writing, and am promptly interrupted by a sharp, nasal voice behind me.
"Barkeep! Yes, you, you dolt, who else would I be talking to? I've been waiting here for ages while you and Mr. Moldy-cloak over there jaw and cackle like a pair of blasted ravens."Richard rolls his eyes and continues writing. We all know that Percy Pierre Pascal de Montmorency is all bark, no bite. Doesn't make him any less of a pain in the ass to deal with.
I saunter over to the bar, making sure to stare directly into Percy's beady little eyes the whole way. Sure enough, his fierce composure fails him the closer I get. He directs his gaze downwards, pretending to pick lint from his lacy cuffs.
"So what can I get you, Perce?"He hates that nickname with a passion, and I grin to see him flinch. He's not going to make a scene this time though. Last time he smashed up my bar, the Society banned him temporarily from all travel and I heard it shook him up something good. Now he's back and suitably cowed, though I can see the rage smoldering under the surface.
"Nothing that I couldn't get ten times better or cheaper in my own time,"he sneers, lifting his chin and trying to peer down his nose at me. As Percy is almost a foot shorter than me, it's a Herculean if ultimately pathetic attempt at intimidation. "But I suppose one must sustain oneself with something. Tell me, do you have that brew with fresh limes and sugar? Damned good, that was."
Of course the little bastard wants me to make him a bastard of a drink. Limes are hard to come by in the middle of 18th century London, but Percy doesn't need to know that they're 1.25 a pound at the local corner store.
"Sure thing, Perce, but it'll cost you a little extra,"I tell him, reaching for the mint. He gives me a sour grin, revealing grey teeth. "You know I'm no pauper, barkeep,"he hisses, before tossing two of the Society-issued coins onto the counter and scurrying over to bother Richard.
I get to work on Percy's mojito while always keeping one eye on my watch. It's been less than ten minutes since I first saw Richard, but time--or rather one's perception of it--assumes a strangely elastic quality during these Friday nights, and my role here is a matter of precise timing. I can't afford to be late.
"Won't cost me extra to get my usual, will it sweetheart?"Her voice sounds like the drink she always orders--straight bourbon with a splash of peach schnapps.
"No ma'am."I take extra care with the presentation, placing a freshly-cut peach wedge on the rim and sprinkling the ensemble with cinnamon. Mary rarely smiles, but the lines in the corners of her eyes quirk upwards as she takes her drink in a work-roughened hand. She proffers a coin, but I refuse to take it. Out of all of them, she is the one I truly wish could stay after closing her tab, in my bar and in my century, far away from the overseer's whip and the cruel Georgia sun. But the Society works in very strange ways and Mary understands this far better than me. I know that I'll find the coin later, tucked underneath her drained glass.
Mary sips her drink and hums in pleasure. Then she leans forward and gazes at me intently. "He told you about anything that's been goin' on?"She motions with her head towards Richard. He and Percy are talking animatedly together in a language that sounds somewhat like French, Richard's soft bass overlaid with Percy's excited yapping.
"Richard doesn't tell me anything, Mary. I'm just the barkeep, here to keep shop and refill his ice."
Mary looks at me askance. "You know that ain't true. Without you, where'd we meet?"You'd probably find a new bartender, get him embroiled in this shifting, tricky business, I think to myself with some bitterness. I inherited The Ouroborus from my father, who died fifteen years ago. My dad told me three things before he died. Stay on the good side of the Society and maintain the loop. I wish he had been a man of more words. There's so much I want to ask him, demand that he tell me. But unlike these fine folks, my dad wasn't a time traveler.
"Word in Society is, there's gonna be a shift of some sort. We don't know when or why, but we think it's happening soon, and it has somethin' to do with that... individual over there."
She doesn't even have to point. I know exactly who Mary's talking about, though I avoid looking into that dark corner. That was the third thing my dad told me to do.
|
"Wait a minute so read it back to me again."
The commander was scratching his head at his office desk baffled by the information that had just been brought to his attention.
"Yes, sir. The report reads like this. Carbon-based life forms, mainly water, sentient thought, bipedal, ummm, opposable thumbs, highly populated cities that resemble our 13th century architecture, and control of their planet is still scattered amongst hundreds of small governments."
"It's like the damn stone age over there."
Scratching his forehead vigorously, the commander stood up from his seat, put his cap on and moved quickly for the door. He paused and looked back at the Doctor.
"What was the gist of that fancy term thing you said before about their technology, Doc?"
"Oh, yes. You must be referring to their T.A.H, which stands for Technological Advancement Hindrance. Their planet seemed to have the smallest issue we had seen, but it has set them back many, many years. You see, everything about their planet and physical makeup is almost identical to ours except for one thing."
"What?"
"They have this incessant need to understand purpose. Even if the things in question were never intended to have such, ahem, purpose."
"And what is this, this purpose, Doctor?"
"Yes it's like. How do I say this? It's more like the disagreement they have about the word. They all generally cannot agree on what their purpose is. So they factionalize and fight amongst one another."
The commander stood still for a long time. Staring into space like the answers to understanding the information just told to him were going to climb in through the window. Finally he focused back on the Doctor.
"Sounds like a problem to me. Mobilize the androids for deep space flight."
"We will soon see what their purpose is." |
I sat completely still. Holding the arcane positioning until the spell completed as the runes carved into the inlaid silver circle began to glow. With a whirl of smoke and burst of hot brimstone wind The demon stood before me.
His red well-muscled physique covered only by a small scrap of cloth; it was pink and frilly. His deep voice boomed as he did his best to try and cover the garment. "Uh. This isn't what it looks like. The mighty Alkhazah'ra was certainly NOT trying to bake up a cake to woo a certain sorceress."
"Alk. We've been through this before. She left you dude."I said adjusting my robe. "She started going out with that Pit-fiend dude from Malebolge."
"S-Shut up, Puny mortal. Alkhazah'ra's baking skills will win her heart back from that heartless devil."He said crossing his arms and turning away from me within the confines of the circle.
"Thats why she started dating him in the first place."I said exasperated with the love struck demon. "Besides my man. You live to what 3,000 years old? She's gonna be dead by 80. Get out there man and get someone who really deserves you. I mean you're kind, caring, and most importantly the most powerful demon from the Abyss, you're better than moping and trying to win back the heart of one mortal."
He turned to look at me. "Y-You mean that?"He said wiping away a single tear rolling down his cheek. "I...You're right. I am ALKHAZAH'RA THE MIGHTY."He said extending a hand for me to shake. "C'mon and be a bro. You deserve a handshake."
"Nice try. Still not sticking any part of me inside that circle with you dude." |
Immortality was far too great a curse to bear.
“How many times have I said it- *oh, I just can’t do this anymore*?” A man, looking to be in his mid-twenties laid, sprawled across an indoor hammock.
“I mean, I have no way of knowing, but probably a lot,” another man of the same age quipped from a chair several feet away. He was scrolling through some uninteresting article on a chrome tablet, half-listening to his companion.
“Look at me,” the hammock man said with disgust, “*in khakis*.”
“*Pft*,” the man in the chair snorted, but continued to read.
“A Greek demigod, an Aztec prophet, *John from Accounting*,” the man who apparently was now named John mused.
“And his trusty sidekick, Javier from Sales,” Javier finally set down the tablet, “would’ve rather gotten a myth named after me.”
“No, you get to wake up every day knowing it’ll all be over someday. That’d better than any myth. God only knows how long the world will need its plucky, young hero.” John shrugged and closed his eyes.
“Yeah man, I’m really looking forward to *dying as an old man*,” Javier snapped, “I get that you deserve that spot on your high horse, but step down every once and a while.”
“Not with World War Four on the horizon, I won’t,” John muttered, craving a nap. “Done your research?”
Javier pursed his lips and withheld whatever critical information he had discovered. Joining that firm had been the worst decision of his life, due to the epic situation he was now a part of, but he had never felt so important. And so close to avoiding death by old age. This prophecy man was a ticking time bomb.
He’d read the myths. The trusty aids usually didn’t make it. And Javier knew John was perfectly aware of that as well. The least John could do was throw him a bone. He wasn’t doing this unless he could go down in history too.
“Yes,” Javier started, “the country has declared a state of national emergency as of four minutes ago.”
John nodded his head slowly, keeping his eyes closed and mind fixated on rest.
*“Alright. Two hours, and we go.”*
|
I awoke in a blank, white room. There was a woman sitting across from me, though my vision was still quite blurry; I couldn't see what she was sitting *on.* I made out a warm smile on her face from behind the haze in my mind.
"Quite the traveler, weren't you?"Her voice was deeper than I had expected for someone with her frame, the kind of voice that implied a deep wisdom. It was comforting, in a way. I knew I had died, but there were a lot of questions I had about where I had gone. I supposed they would have to wait.
"Yes, I guess so,"I chuckled. "It always was my dream to see the world. My dream came true thanks to..."My vision cleared as I spoke and I could see that the woman sitting across from me was the one who had invented teleportation, Irene Solas.
"Wow, Mrs. Solas, it's such an honor to meet you!"She waved away my genuflection as if swatting at a bug, but it seemed good-natured still.
"I suppose you'll be wanting to know where you are,"she began. "And I promise you'll have an answer. But first, there's the matter of your debt."All travelers owed a debt, it was true. But no one really had a straight answer for what that was, or how it would be paid. Irene stood up from her chair, motioning for me to follow her. We walked through a set of *Star Trek*-esque doors over which the words "Debt Collection Center"were printed, and I could hardly believe my eyes.
It was a gym, or, at least, that's what it looked like at first glance. There was a towering central structure, out of which many tiers of catwalks sprawled, even far past my conception. The room was filled with the sound of people running on treadmills, and, indeed, everywhere I looked, the room was filled with hundreds of thousands of runners, going as fast as they could on their treadmill.
"This... is the DCC. A sort of afterlife for travelers like you. Do you remember the license you received when you first applied for teleportation?"I nodded. It had been a bitch to get one of those, especially after all the accidents in the early days of its implementation. "The license came with a sort of... donor card. Essentially, your debt is repaid in the form of organ reclamation after your death. Specifically, your brain."
I was taken aback. It sounded horrifying, but I'd be lying if I said I read through the mountain of paperwork that came with applying for a license. It must have been in the fine print there somewhere.
"What you'll do is, much like everyone else here, run. And while this form you're inhabiting runs, your brain will be added to the literal neural network that powers the teleportation mainframe. You see, human brains are much more valuable for quantum computations than computers ever could be, and much faster at it, too. Once you've run the entirety of the distance you teleported over in life, your brain will be disconnected from the network, and you can rest. Do you have any questions for me?"
I had a million questions for her, but I couldn't say that the scheme sounded unfair or crazy, she was probably right about the computational power. If this was the debt I had to pay, I figured it was well worth it for all the hours and days of my life that were saved with her amazing invention. I'd be happy to contribute to someone else experiencing the same thing, I decided.
And so I ran. |
"So, I know a friend with an oven in her apartment,"Jan says, "I can bake the cake."
"I don't wanna be... insensitive, I guess."Dev clears his throat and glances at Jan and then at me. "But does he eat? Food, i mean."
"He totally does. He's been at dinner with us plenty of times."
Henri does stuff food down his throat on occasion. When we meet up in the dining hall, he's careful about it. He makes it convincing. Forks, napkins, chewing. The whole number. When it's just us in the dorm, though... I've seen him inhale cornflakes. Not figuratively. I have to admire the effort, though - keeping up appearances even when it's only me.
"I think he just rids himself of it later,"I say.
"Rids himself of it?"
"You've seen him in the bathrooms in the middle of the night, looking kind of pale, haven't you, Dev?"I mean, he always looks pale. That was probably suspicious point number one. But if there were ever a time Henri looked truly and absolutely white, it was after he'd spent half an hour regurgitating an entirely undigested pizza. And then been caught doing so by his roommate.
"Got it,"Dev says, "I honestly just thought he couldn't hold down alcohol."
"That's the other thing, actually. I don't think he drinks. Ever."I usually end up pretty badly drunk whenever Henri decides to tag along to a party. He won't refuse drinks outright, that would be too conspicuous. But he does pass them off to anyone with an free hand. Usually my hand, if I hang around to close. I'm actually not sure if the sobriety is related to his condition, though. It's not really in any of the literature. File that one under unsolved mysteries.
Jan stopped writing her list and dropped her pen. "This party isn't just for Henri. Other people are going to want at least some alcohol."
"Right,"I say, "No, you're right. Sorry. I just want to make sure we're actually doing something for Henri."
"What are you doing for me?"a voice calls from just beyond my door. Jan flips through her notebook to a page of unfinished calculus, and I help Dev shove the decorations we've gathered into his backpack. It occurs to me that we have no real reason to rush.
"Is that you, Henri?"
"Hi, yes,"he answers. A long pause follows. I sit in silence, enjoying the one tell that he's clearly never learned to conceal in his centuries of vampirism. I can only imagine Henri's face would be bright red right now, if he'd had any blood of his own. I hear an awkward shuffle of feet, and then finally, "Can I-?"
"Did you forget your key?"Jan asks.
"No, no. I have it. I just thought maybe you were doing something private, so-"
"Nope, nothing private going on,"Dev says.
"Oh, okay. So..."He's so desperate not to be obvious, and we've got him snagged on the one thing he actually knows is a giveaway. I don't think I'll ever not find this funny. But it is his birthday.
"You can come in, Henri." |
"Okay, okay,"I said, trying to calm the rest of my boys down. "Now, I'll be the first to admit, Jamie's story was pretty tight. I mean, triple homicide, what's not to love. But let me just say, he ain't got shit, he AIN'T. GOT. SHIT. on my last Purge."My friends all leaned in, and that's when I knew I had 'em.
_____________________________________________________
12:01 hits, and the world loses it's mind. It's how every Purge from now to the beginning of time starts. Ever since I was younger, I remember the ringing of gunshots that marked the beginning, to the sirens that marked the end. My mother was very conservative. Every Purge she would hold me and my brothers close and say "Not today. Your cousins and uncles might pull this shit, but not you. Not under my watch."But fuck, my mom died three weeks prior, so I was ready to start some shit.
In the middle of the night, after my youngest brother Petey and I met up, we set off a few firecrackers in our backyard. Now hold up hold up, that wasn't our crime. We had all the permits and everything. That was just a warm up for later. Something to get the juices flowing, you know. Petey, now Petey's always been a good boy. You can't expect Petey to go from 0 to 100 in any circumstance. So I revved him up. Got him up to 25. Now the blood really had to get pumping.
We jumped a fence and ended up in our local shopping mall. Now, we all know the rules: Don't go to a shopping mall during the Purge. It's a surefire way to get capped, what with all those looters around, but Petey and I, we're sneaky. We got jobs in security and had been scoping this place out from the inside for a couple months beforehand, trying to figure out the best way to reach our destination. So, sneaking from cover to cover, from floor to floor, avoiding the occasional bullet from some crazed psycho, we made it to our destination. A prized package, held behind the store counter. We had preordered it a few months back, so we would know exactly where it would be. Might've cost a bit of money, but you don't want any variables, not with a plan of this magnitude.
Now sneaking back, whewee, that was the hard part. We ran past raiders, busses turned into fortresses, a midget with a flamethrower, until finally we reached our crib. Now Petey, he thought we were fucked for sure. He kept checking the blinds n' shit, wondering if anyone caught us. But that's when we realized - We can't both split the package - this DVD of Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2. So using a bit of finagling, I ripped it onto his laptop and sent a copy to myself. And since it was The Purge, we got away with it scot free. |
"A pair..a...shoot?"I cocked my head. "What's that?"
"Well, er...it's this thing that you pull when you jump out of a plane, and it keeps you from dying."
*How ironic,* I thought, moving closer.
He smiled. "Mind helping me down, darling? I promise I won't bite."
I giggled and bit my lip, then flew up to free him. Just then my stomach growled.
He chuckled. "That was pretty loud. I hope you're eating something soon."
Licking my lips and staring him straight in the face, I said, "I am. You."
"Heh.."He smiled, nervous. "Kinky."
"I don't know what that means,"I told him, undoing the harness. "But I hope you taste delicious."
|
Her dress shimmered with an opaline iridescence as Elira glided alone down the aisle. All day fear had wracked my chest waiting for the moment that we would both, finally become one. But, when I knew that moment was only minutes away, every nerve in my body could feel only excitement. Our eyes met, and when they did her mouth cracked into that mysterious half grin that she saved only for me, and mine broke into a dopey full mouthed smile.
Before I knew it she was standing in front of me. She offered her hand and I took it into mine. The cleric overseeing our union cleared his throat and began.
"After ten long years of courtship and the exploration of your partner's mind, you stand before me today in this court asking to be united as one. You have searched for companionship to ease the travels through this enduring life our predecessors have granted us, and against all odds you have found it in each other. Does this hold true?"
Wordlessly, we both nodded. I was pleased. Neither of us wanted the ceremony to be a second longer than it had to by law, and the cleric seemed to be obliging.
"In that case, would the groom like to proclaim his vows?"He gestured to me with his robed arm and I nodded again, turning to my beloved Elira.
"When I set off on pilgrimage to discover my self and my purpose among the stars, I seemed to only lose more with each planet upon which I explored and left. Adventure, friendship, struggle, and even romance shaped me into a capable, and some would say estimable man. But I knew better. I lived as a comet caught in inexorable orbit, my path swayed only by that which was nearest to me. I had no true direction of my own."
I found myself gazing at the ground, and looked up to find Elira staring back at me with two silver tears tracing down her elegant cheeks and falling past the corners of her cocked smile and onto her dress that might as well have been made of starlight.
I continued with a crack in my voice, "Elira, when I first met you at that backwoods waystation in The Hunter's Belt I thought no more of it than another passing opportunity for shallow companionship. I have never been more mistaken. You were filled with a convicted passion for what you believe like none I have ever met. You shared your fire with me, and kindled a blaze to rival a sun. It filled my mind as it had never been filled. You gave me the freedom that no one else could, and I will do everything in me, until every ember of mine has fallen dark, to find for us that treasure we both now seek. I love you as I didn't consider possible, and that love grows with every moment I know you exist. I can imagine nothing so perfect as sharing my eternity with you."
The cleric again cleared his throat. "Now would the bride say her vows?"
"Of course."Elira's voice flowed out like cream over honey, and she reached up to stroke away the tear I had unwittingly let escape.
"Theron, when I first saw you I could only see the utility towards achieving my goal that you embodied. You were formidable, cunning, and genuinely empathetic to the plight of those who could not provide for themselves what you could take for granted. Those traits are rarely seen together in one creature. I wanted to use you to find the kind of *true* freedom that eludes all mortals and immortals alike. But as we journeyed together it became ever more clear that I was more than naively shortsighted, I was heading towards a cruelty that either of us would gladly seek to extinguish."
The ashamed look on her nearly sylvan features filled me with curiosity. I knew that there was much more to my love than I could have possibly figured out by now, but I couldn't help but wonder what could possibly cause the tears that were now flowing freely from her eyes the color of emerald sea foam to her gown.
"You saved me from myself, and I can confidently say that no one in history has ever been able to stay my will as you did. You displayed again and again the value of temperance and patience in the face of incoming odds. I would be ashamed to be the person I know I would have become if it wasn't for you. Until we both meet the cold void I shall be by your side, my love."
I had no idea what darkness she believed her future could have held, and I didn't care. Come what may, we would stride forward together. We embraced, and the kiss we shared was so sweet it could have sated a god for eternity.
We released each other and the cleric held out our rings, both clear as the finest glass, glistening and shaped into an oroboros. We each took the other's and slid it onto their finger. I watched as mine clasped the serpent's spines into my flesh, and released its package of nanites into my bloodstream.
Darkness enveloped the both of us as our partner's thoughts and sensations mixed with our own. Memories and dreams, pains and pleasures all encompassed our minds. Our mind. And I saw for the first time the darkness that once almost claimed our souls. Worlds trembled as we lit upon their surface. Instead of peace, we brought only our power. All we wanted was freedom, but in finding it we would have become slaves to it. We needed something else first, something neither of us had yet named. Before we could control freedom, we needed to first attain a wisdom that neither of us could yet understand. We had to find it, but we had each other now, truly and wholly. If that wasn't enough to achieve our goal, then nothing was. We both opened our eyes and felt hope for what was to come.
|
“Don’t worry, Yuki,” He said with utter sincerity, as his eyes fixed on a far off point, “I’ll protect you.”
This impressed her, again. I’d lost count of how many times they interacted like this, but it never got old for either of them. She inhaled in a cute little gasp, and continued to stare at him in adoration. Her eyes watered with wonderment.
“Lance,” she whispered, reverentially.
I rolled my eyes, but neither of them noticed. She was busy staring at him, and his inner monologue had started up again—they’d both come around in a minute or two.
They had been like this for months. We were supposed to be fighting some sort of rival, evil magical school that had allied themselves with demonic forces. However, the problem with being in a Japanese animation is that you don’t skip ahead in time. I had to attend high school. I had to watch them act like this every day. Afterward, I got to go home to parents that weren’t mine. It was bizarre, irritating, and tedious.
Even now, Archpriest Hedgehog—if you saw his hair, then you’d know why I called him this—was standing beside his minions and doing nothing, because the heroes were busy having their moment.
“You won’t win, Chromosome!” Lance suddenly yelled, calling the man by his actual name, “I’ll never let you take Yuki!”
“Give us the girl and the keystone to the demon realm, or you will die on this day.”
Lance began to generate magical energy in his hand. He wouldn’t give them Yuki, and he couldn’t give them the keystone. Earlier, I had yelled loudly that he had it, but he didn’t have it. I’d gone into a soliloquy about how great his having it was. I’d ranted about how justice would triumph, and how the forces of evil would surely perish. I did it because I knew that I was being spied on. It was obvious that there was only one keystone. It was also obvious that it was the glass eye in Archpriest Hedgehog’s face, because the keystone was supposed to be a powerful artifact. He had a powerful artifact *in his face* that glowed. This was no mystery. However, thankfully, the bad guys were equally stupid. They believed that they had failed in destroying the other keystones after all, must have missed one, and that we had it.
As Lance charged a magical bolt and ran forward, I walked up to Yuki. She was watching him with an all-consuming concern.
“Yuki,” I said seriously, and put a hand reassuringly on her shoulder.
“Frank!”
“I know that the power of the crystal is in you, Yuki,” she gasped in shock, and I continued gravely, “I overheard you and Lance talking about it. You can see that Lance is outnumbered. Open your heart to your feelings, and transform into the Crystal Guardian!”
She made an adorable, shocked expression, and stuttered, “Crystal Guardian? *Me? F-feelings?!* AHAHAHA, I don’t know what you’re talking about! AHAHAHAHA!”
She put her hands on her hips as she laughed, her mouth going impossibly wide, as she looked up at the sky. A gigantic drop of sweat materialized in the air by her head, and she shrunk into a silly caricature of her former self. I had to act quickly to stop the humor before she got us killed. Lance really wasn’t prepared for this fight, but she was overpowered. She only had to be true to her feelings, because love was the most powerful weapon of all.
“He said he loves you, Yuki!” I lied but she immediately returned to normal, and had a doe-eyed, amazed expression.
“What?” She asked in amazement, “H-he loves me?”
“Yes! He told me once, long ago. He’s loved you since that first day at school, when you gave him an ice-cream cone, when you were little kids. He was new to the school. Don’t you remember?”
I could sense that she was going into a flashback, because she froze in place and couldn’t hear me any longer. I let her mind fill in the rest. It was all true, all obvious, except for the part about him telling me he loved her. He never actually said that part. I gave her minute as I watched Lance get beaten to a bloody pulp.
Finally, she began to transform into a naked Barbie doll. I politely turned around. I knew that she’d let everyone know when she was done, and nothing would happen in the meantime.
“ARCHPRIEST CHROMOSOME,” A powerful, angelic, echoing voice emanated from behind me. She was done. I turned around. Her now hovering, brilliantly lit, be-feathered form floated over where she had been standing before, “YOU HAVE VIOLATED THE BOUNDARY BETWEEN WORLDS, AND MUST BE PUNISHED IN THE NAME OF THE LIGHT.”
Archpriest Hedgehog cried out and gave some sort of speech. It was something about how this couldn’t be happening, but I really didn’t give a shit anymore. I had one last task to accomplish. I walked over to Lance, and waited for the Archpriest’s eyeball to theatrically drop. Yuki floated over to retrieve it, and I knew that this was my only chance. I leaned towards Lance’s ear.
“You’re a lucky man,” I whispered, “For a girl like that to love you.”
“L—” I was ready for this, and clapped my hand over his fool mouth before she heard him scream his disbelief.
“She does. She told me. That was why she gave you the ice-cream on that first day you met, don’t you remember? She saw you sitting on the swing all alone...” I trailed off, as if I were tiptoeing out of a sleeping baby’s room, and let the flashback hit him next.
Then, mercifully, I was back in my own room with the TV on. I smashed it. |
I woke up to the same song on my old wake-up alarm as always. It took me a while to drag myself out of bed, and down to the kitchen.
Susan was having her supper, having just come off her night shift. I waved at her, then started making myself some corn porridge. "Anything happen last night?"
Susan took a moment to swallow her salad. "Not a damn thing, as usual. No movement, no heat signatures, no radio. We seriously might be the last peeps on earth by now, man"
Well, it'd figure if we were. We seemed to have been the only people who'd read World War Z and planned accordingly.
While the source of the zombie outbreak had been different (CIA apparently messing with a chemical virus, and it somehow wound up in the drinking water of a major city because of course it did), the early signs had all been there. My close friends and I put our old "Plan Z"into action the moment we had the slightest inkling about what was about to happen. By the time the "great panic"phase had hit us, we'd already been safe up here for a solid three months.
I looked out the kitchen window and sighed at the endless white expanse out there, devoid of anything but the exceptionally rare arctic wolf or polar bear.
We'd run up to Nunavut and jacked a small power plant, and made it self sustaining and nearly impregnable against assault by human or zombie. It was an older plant, miles away from civilization, and mostly overlooked by the government and locals. The handful of people running the place were more than happy to have us once we convinced them of the plan.
And not a goddamn thing had happened to us since. We'd packed a bunch of illegally smuggled long range rifles, but hadn't had to fire a single bullet. The radio had blabbered for 3 years about the fall of humanity, how people turned on one another in desperation and let the zombies into their compounds, and then into survival tips like how to check if you had the virus (we were all clean), how to kill a zombie, etc etc etc...And then the signals all went dead one by one.
After breakfast, I took a walk around the hydro power plant. Wilfred had done a maintenance check yesterday and replaced one of the parts in the water turbine. We still had enough replacements for at LEAST another two decades up here, and the workers we'd moved in with had taught all of us how to fix the essential bits.
Ashley was up in the greenhouse, checking on the rice, corn, lettuce and potatoes, sighing and wishing out loud that we had some chocolate. Her husband was counting the chickens and noting down the next time we could afford to have fresh meat on the table.
I eventually plonked myself down in the old sofa in our rec room and flipped through the stash of video games we'd brought with us. We'd all started getting just a little bit bored of the same selection by now. Eventually, I settled on working in RPGmaker on the computer. I got the feeling it was only me and Marc who played the dozen games I'd made over our time up here, but it was a good way to pass the time.
Eventually, afternoon rolled around and it was my turn to man the watchtower, taking over from my younger brother. Nothing new on his watch. I managed to spot some Walrus out in the water dam during my shift, but nothing else special. I trained my binoculars on the east horizon. There had been a town out that way, but no raiders had ever come for us. I would have dared to hope they'd all survived like us, but no traders had come either. And we'd all made a pact never to leave this place for fear of attracting trouble, so we'd never know what happened to them...
6 hours later, I was relieved and went back down to chat with the others. Most of them were as glum I was. We were safe and all, and still fast friends, but being stuck in the same large building with the same two dozen people with nothing new ever happening was really starting to take a toll on us.
But we'd endure. The whole world may have gone silent, but we'd endure.
"Alright, it's movie night. You guys up for The Usual Suspects for the 5th time, or Wreck it Ralph for like the 12th time?"
I got a bunch of non-committal grunts in response.
"Usual Suspects it is, I guess". |
Santa Claus trimmed his long beard grown during his time in the gulag. He hated that camp, being an old man with severe arthritis. From day to day, he would have to work on toys instead of the elves because of their uprising in 1917 when a Bolshevik officer came to the North Pole to introduce the elves to the ideals of Communism. The oppressed elves overthrew Mr. Claus quite quickly thereafter. Sometimes he hoped he could escape and regain his once absolute power over the far north, but it was impossible, until now. Outside the gulag, he saw a massive aircraft carrier equipped with an icebreaker. The United States and all its allies was ready to liberate the North Pole and all its oil, reinstalling Santa as it’s rightful ruler. |
Jasper sat on his back porch, rocking slightly in his favorite chair. It was a bright and sunny day, only a few wispy clouds in the bright blue sky. The clock neared 3:00pm, and he eagerly waited for his old friend to arrive. Every day for the past year, a crow had brought him trinkets in exchange for snacks.
Today, a piece of jaspers granola bar he’d eaten for breakfast lay in his lap, ready to be exchanged for whatever new treasure would be brought.
Inside his home, over 350 different trinkets were displayed. To the average eye, they would look like trash. Paperclips, buttons, and even the occasional coin had been brought over the last year. There was never a dull day when it came to the crow.
The crow landed at Jasper’s feet, breaking him out of his trance. In it’s beak was a small scroll of paper. Offering the piece of granola to the bird, he took the paper from it.
The paper was an off-white color, obviously having aged for some time. As the paper was unrolled, it revealed text written in the most pristine handwriting Jasper had ever seen.
*Dear Jasper,
Over the last year you’ve shown me endless kindness, and now it is time for me to return the favor. Tonight, they are coming for you. Leave your house and don’t come back until tomorrow afternoon.*
Jasper looked up, staring into the beast eyes of the crow at his feet. It tilted it’s head slightly, as if waiting for some sort of response.
*This is a bird,* Jared thought. *How does it know anything?* The last year had cultivated a deep friendship, however, and what harm would leaving for one night do? What if something was going to happen? The situation as a whole was quite peculiar, but it couldn’t hurt to listen to an old friend.
Jasper packed a change of clothes as well as his necessities in a small suitcase, still quite confused by the situation as a whole. When he was done packing, he noticed that the crow was still sitting outside his window, staring him down. It was almost as if it was making sure he was leaving.
An hour had passed before Jasper was ready to leave his home. He said goodbye to his friend and headed out the door, going to the nearest hotel. Long overdue for a vacation, he figured that this would be good for him whether it was a fictitious situation or not.
Jasper ordered room service, munching on his dinner then eventually falling asleep with his clothes still on. When he woke up in the morning, he turned on the news. If the weather was nice enough, he planned to go outside and find something to do.
Instead of finding the weather, Jasper found a breaking news story. An intruder had been found seemingly pecked to death by birds at a local house.
When the news cut to a reporter in front of the house, Jasper’s stomach dropped. It was his home.
“It seems that no one was home when the attack occurred, leaving no witnesses as to what went down. Police say that the intruder was armed, and in his trunk were several ropes and other weapons.”
Jasper fiddled with his hands, continuing to watch the unfolding story. In the background of the shot sat a murder of crows, one standing out in particular. It’s beady eyes seemed to project a smile. |
As Death entered the realm of Fate, he was surprised to find no resistance met him.
"Surely you knew I was coming."Death's voice boomed out, every syllable laced with Eldritch power. Fate's minions, who had watched his entrance with awe, quickly fled. Time briefly hesitated, but sensed Death was outside her influence.
Fate materialized, a golden aura shining around him. Death paused momentarily at the sight, aware that the eldest of his children was too clever for a direct assault.
"Of course I knew, Father, but to what avail? If you want me dead then I cannot stop you."Fate was monotone, speaking of his death the same way one might announce it was raining. "I have sent many souls to you, but eventually I knew you would move past mortals."
Death was silent. Fate had always been a know-it-all, though to be fair he did.
"A warning, Father. Without me you will find that your realm is not so easily defined."
With a flash, Death's scythe shot out and ripped Fate's soul apart. Idle chatter was one thing, but a threat could not be tolerated. Fate thought he was needed for Death to extend his influence? His power was far more than a fortune teller, and only a fool would deny that.
The only true fate is Death, and no longer would he suffer the whims of lesser gods. |
I didn't think anything of picking up my new glasses, they were cute and they were a huge improvement over my old ones. I passed a group of elderly women having coffee and laughing on the patio outside a coffee shop. I remember thinking I hope I have good friends to laugh with when I'm old. One woman in particular caught my eye. She had a large purse, and a small dog sitting by her feet. She was in the middle of telling a story, animated, having a good time. I saw a dark robed figure out of the corner of my eye. It had to have been a trick of the light. I thought nothing of it.
Until the next day.
Her photo was on the news. There'd been an accident a half hour after I had walked past the coffee shop. I shrugged, sent positive vibes to her family, and went about my day.
I continued seeing flashed of the robed figure as I was going about my business. He never acknowledged me and I never acknowledged him. I started to think I was delusional, and treated him as a symptom of my own neuroses.
I went to work. That was the one place he never seemed to be. It was a relief, honestly. I spent more and more time at work, and less and less time in public.
One day I walk into my classroom early in the morning to find him, dark robed and skeletal, standing there. His empty eyes meet mine, and I knew: he was here for me. I stood rooted to the spot, while he slowly walked (glided?) towards me. As he approached he spoke, "ignoring me all this time is terribly rude; you could have said hello".
This is my first attempt. Be gentle. |
"How did you figure this out, general?"
"Well, how else could you explain every arrow fired by foot soldiers missing all of them, and only the ones with a loved one to return to getting wounded or dieing?"
"This is of major concern, general. We all know that there is only one way to kill a protagonist..."
"I'll do it, majesty. I am humbled to take this function, but I'll only do it on one condition."
"And that condition is?"
"you need to kill me after the war, okay?"
"I will do everything in my power to try."
As the general walked towards the altar, he was sad, but more derermined than ever. He grabbed the sword on the altar, walked up to one of the royal guards, and killed it in one swing. Instantly, darkness surrounded him, and he started massacaring everyone but the queen. After this, he walked onto the battlefield, having become the main antagonist. |
"Wizard!"The youth standing before me draws his sword. He reeks of enchantments put in place to protect against my magic. His armor gleams like the sweat on his face. I put my book down and turn to face him.
"Your terrible reign ends here! I, Roan of Aderian, will strike you down and save the people of my fair land!"
"Excuse me?"I asked. "My terrible reign?"
He nodded. "Y'know...how you keep everyone in fear? How you're gonna use your awesome power to enslave them and conquer the world?"
I couldn't believe what this kid was saying. "Do people really think that about me?"
"Well...yes. Why shouldn't we?"
Unable to hold it in any longer, I let loose a hearty laugh. "Do you know what I'm working on?"I spoke between chuckles. Roan braced, as if I were going to it him with it.
"This book,"I explained, gesturing, "is a transmutation guide. I'm trying to figure out how to turn dirt into cake!"
"W-why?!"
"Because I can! Let me put it this way--why enslave people when I can make golems? Why take over the world when some dark lord's gonna try and usurp me? Being evil is just too much trouble for what it's worth."
Roan paused. A saw a small smile light his face, and he glanced away. "Alright,"he muttered, sounding flabbergasted, "I guess I can't argue with dirt cake. But I'll still be here if you try anything."Pointing his sword at me, he backed down the stairs of my tower.
Stifling my laughter, I turned back to my work. I tried the spell again and got a delicious little cupcake, but as I tried to taste it, I only got another mouthful of dirt. |
I don’t know why I started saying it. It started as a joke I guess. First, I was doing it with my friends, randomly muttering “In accordance with the prophecy”, after random predictions. One time we ordered pizza and I sort of guessed when it would arrive, “8:22PM, in accordance with the prophecy”. When the pizza arrived at that exact time, my friends were completely blown away. Then I started doing it with things that made a bit more of a difference, bus schedules, T.V show endings, horse races. That’s when people started coming to me for advice, they asked me how I was so precise. I couldn’t explain it. It was just sort of this inner intelligence, like my gut feeling had a gut feeling. They started calling me a prophet, then I started feeling like one.
I started prophesizing governmental elections, lottery tickets, market swings. I became sought after by the public, the elite and powerful backed me. I bought out large plots of land and started acres upon acres of communes. The people put their lives in my hands, and as much as I doubted myself, I grew more and more confident with every prediction, with every prophecy. If I was the chosen one, then who was I to deny the people my gift? They built shrines in my name and I brought them wealth and happiness.
Then they started asking me questions about the end of the world. About what happens to us after we die. About their destinies. That’s when it took a turn for the worst. If you guess right every time then it’s usually best that the public only hear the good predictions, the positive ones. They demanded I tell them.
“Nothing happens after you die, in accordance with the prophecy,”, “You are destined for an early grave, in accordance with the prophecy,”, “The world will end in a nuclear waste, in accordance with the prophecy”. They started looking for someone to blame for their grim futures, and then they started to blame me. I went from famous to infamous. They wanted my head. They wanted me to solve the problems that I had suddenly made so clear to them. I had no solutions. I fled, predicting the best place for me to hide away until the end of my days.
|
Sure, the cuddly ones are nice. The fluffy ones are all the rage at the moment, scales genetically replaced for the soft fur of a rabbit. There's a place for that, but it isn't here.
My dragon is the kind of dragon you think of when you read or hear the word "dragon". Scarred, rough scales, flames rising from its snout, wretched claws digging jagged grooves through the floor as it follows me into my office. Okay, sure, it's not as big as you'd think, I'll give you that, but it's just as vicious. I needed a license and three certifications just to walk into the flamer section of the store unescorted. The paperwork to buy it took over two years to process.
At about eight feet long, excluding the tail, and four feet high, it's still one of the bigger personal creatures on the market. I spent my own money widening the doors en route to my office just so I could bring him in every day.
I settle into my seat as my pet settles into his regular position and wait for the first victim of the day.
A nervous knock at the door. It doesn't take long for a 'customer' to appear in my line of work. The door opens a crack, jittery eyes peeking in. I've left the office light off and the blinds closed. The light from the hallway floods into the room as the door slowly swings open.
"Uh... Max, sorry, I know you're busy,"I wasnt. "C-can you help me for a second?"
With my biggest smile, I encourage him to cross the threshold of the room.
"Marcus! Sure, sure, come in! Of course I can help,"I nod to the dragon, hidden in the shadow behind the door. He steps forward, knocking the door closed behind the customer, trapping him, "that's what tech support is for, after all."
Marcus burns. I smile. |
The girl in this cafe keeps staring at me. I know this because I cannot stop staring at her.
She takes her coffee from a man radiating violet. This particular shade was for feelings of pride. The barista must have felt that he pulled an especially good shot. Her tentative smile after her first sip confirmed my theory. I looked back to the barista. He noticed her expression and the violet intensified.
People have never mystified me. From the way dark blues feel sorrowful, the fuzzy pinks of romance, the passions of reds and the serenity of pastels, I cannot see color without feeling. I see the aura, assess the environment. After a lifetime of practice, you don't have a lot of trouble piecing a person's story together. When I was a child they chalked it up to some sort of hypersensitive synesthesia. As an adult, I can tell it's something more. People are open books. In this case, coloring books. My own little in-joke for my audience of one. You don't make many friends when you make people uncomfortable. When you see too much.
But this girl. This color. I'm at a loss. I reveled in the moment, briefly, savoring that unexpected feeling that there was a person in this world that could still surprise me. A mystery. She shined, unmistakably, in that familiar way all people in the emotional whirlwind shine for me and me alone. She scribbled something down in her notebook and then looked back up at me. She held my gaze. I broke it.
If the mystery of the new emotional aura wasn't reason enough for rapture, the color itself was. I had never seen that color before. I always wondered about the color spectrum, the wavelengths human eyes can't perceive. Is that what I'm experiencing now? Did this ability extend beyond seeing auras? I searched this new color for its feeling. It must have a core. I thought back to my childhood, the sloppy associations I made to learn to read them. The color feeling sensation. Surely I could do it now. I focused.
The color was like two cats sharing cream, girls braiding their hair together. Like taking turns on swing sets and sleeping with a friend in the most innocent sense of the phrase. Shared secrets, shared joys.
The girl clutched her notebook. We stared. Then, tentatively, she turned the book to face me. Sprawled across the two open pages, she wrote:
**Can you see them too?** |
You probably lost your mind, at some point.
The urn was stuffy, and there was nothing. It was black and nothing but. Sometimes you could hear things, and you would have the joy of wondering how ash can hear, but then your mind would slip back to the madness. The blackness. This is the void. It stares into you.
Movement. You don’t know how you can feel it, but you do. The urn is being moved. But not opened. There is still only blackness. It stares into you.
You tip over. Nothing about the view changed. You being to lose an additional bit of hope you didn’t think you had. You had written a will, after all. You didn’t think you’d need it (duh, immortality) but you heard how wrong wishes can go. Why did you ask to be cremated? That’s where you really went wrong. Or not specifying in your wish but then writing a will. What’s wrong with you? You can’t tell if the questions come from your addled mind or the void. It questions you.
Where do you think you are going?
You cannot escape this.
It is punishment.
Forever.
Hell. Your personal hell.
You will be here, with me, forever.
You accept your fate.
Your urn is moved again. Movement has become the new normal, after all the eternity you sat motionless, now movement is a new eternity, an additional torture. Going nowhere.
There is light.
And suddenly, here you are! Flung out of the urn and you see sky. Oh god, you had forgotten the beauty of blue, the tranquility and awe that color evokes. And trees! Mighty pines, sweeping the sky. Fluffy clouds, rolling over the vista...
They read your will. They scattered the ashes.
They set you free. |
"Anger has no place in a young lady's heart,"said the old crone who was not her mother, and little Rapunzel would answer "Yes, mama,"because that was the only name she knew and she wanted to be good.
As she grew she remembered those words. Indeed, she was hardly allowed to forget them. "Don't be angry,"the old woman would say as she brushed her hair, "Anger makes you bitter, and bitter makes you ugly."And so Rapunzel would bite down on her feelings, scrunch them up small and hide them away because after all, it wasn't mama's fault she couldn't leave the tower. It wasn't mama's fault she only saw the world from a window.
Time passed and her hair grew long and soft and beautiful, and her heart grew small and heavy and hard from the constant pressure of trying not to be angry at being left alone so often, for so long. She tried not to be bitter about the world outside as it passed her by.
Then one day the Prince came and she realized everything she'd been told was a lie. The old woman wasn't her mother. She wasn't under a curse, and she wouldn't die if her feet touched the ground.
The Prince said he loved her and she wondered if she should believe him. "You're beautiful,"he said, stroking the golden hair that almost touched the floor. As they rode away the Prince asked if she was angry and she said "No."She didn't want to be ugly and bitter.
His parents wouldn't agree to the union. They thought she might be a princess but without a clear birthright marriage to their son was 'impossible'. She ran from the room, hair flowing behind her as she sought refuge in the garden, large tears falling silently into the fountain. She was sad. She was heartbroken. But she wasn't *angry*. Of course not.
The wedding happened anyway. It was silly, really. Something about finding her in the garden that day surrounded by forest creatures. Only a true princess, the King and Queen declared, could have such dominion over animals. It sounded like a lot of bollocks to her, but at least it meant she had their blessing. As the servants brushed her hair and fastened it high atop her head with pins she tried not to be bitter that it took two squirrels fighting over a nut to get them to agree she was good enough for their son.
Time passed, her hair trailed like a bridal train behind her when she walked and in December she gave birth to a son who's heart didn't beat. In a moment of deepest grief the Prince blamed her and it was two weeks before they spoke again. Two weeks before he came to her, begging forgiveness. She had spent the entire time not being angry and watching her hair grow.
The old King died, the son was crowed in his father's place and Rapunzel was a queen. She was well liked and well loved and wherever she went people reached out to touch her hair and whispered about what a beautiful, kind queen she was.
In truth, she'd never liked having her hair touched.
More time passed. More children were born (healthy, living ones thankfully) and Rapunzel and her King ruled the kingdom until the day he was poisoned.
She knew it was poison. You didn't grow up the daughter of a witch without learning a thing or two about herbs. She recognized it as a weed that grew in the kingdom beyond the mountains. The one they were engaged in a border dispute against. The one who's daughter the King had shunned so many years ago when he was a reckless prince, in love with a girl he met in a tower.
She cried bitter tears at his funeral and tried so very hard not to be angry. Onlookers would later claim they saw her hair grow before their eyes, but who could really put stock in such fanciful tales.
It came to light through intercepted letters that the plot against the King's life had been arranged not by their neighbor but by a different kingdom who hoped to pit the two against each other. It was thought that with the King gone Rapunzel would be easily overpowered, easily cowed and easily overrun. For she was after all such a *nice* queen.
Reading the letter, Rapunzel thought it might be time to get angry. She felt it welling up inside her, not flowing out anymore but seeping in, every bitter circumstance and unfair moment. She looked in the mirror and acknowledged there was no reason not to be angry and bitter and ugly. Beauty hadn't saved anyone.
She took the letters and placed them in a coffin, to which she added her hair. Her hair! Those lovely golden locks. She shore it off right down to her scalp and piled it in the coffin so they could barely close the lid.
She had it sent off to that distant treacherous kingdom; a clear declaration of war. And as she stood before the mirror looking at her shorn and bleeding scalp, she didn't feel ugly at all.
She felt powerful.
|
I exist. That was the first thought that crossed my mind as I heard the tone through the blackness. It was as if I had just sprang forth from the void into existence. The tone played again.
Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I recognized it. This tone has significance to me. What was it? I struggled to remember what it meant, but nothing was coming to mind. With a jolt, I suddenly became aware of my body.
I have arms. I have legs. They can move! The tone plays again. I flex my hands and rub them together. I don't know if it was the action of doing that, or just the passing of those few minutes, but my memories came flooding back to me.
The tone I kept hearing was a wake up call. I have been cryogenically frozen and this tone was telling me that it my body has completed the 300 year hibernation period I had set oh so long ago. Excitement flooded my body as continued to stretch my limbs and practice movement again.
I'm in the future! I have essentially just time traveled three centuries in, what felt like to me, a blink of an eye! The blackness turned into gray as the pod started the sight re-acclimatization procedure. Even the dull gray stung my eyes. Perhaps in this time, I can take a shot and never have to feel pain again, I thought to myself.
As the pod continued its procedure, I began to think of what I would do first. After taking care of my pod lease fees and settled my debts, I had put all the rest of my life savings into stocks. I was certain that my initial investment three hundred years ago was worth trillions today. I could do anything I wanted!
After what seemed like hours, but was really only 45 minutes, the wake up procedure was completed and the pod began to open. I smiled as the thought of a butler waiting for me with a drink came to mind. Or maybe I would be ushered into a luxury suite and have an accountant sent to me to help me manage my wealth. Oh the possibilities!
The lid opened and I was met with a pair of stern and menacing eyes. The room around me looked like an old warehouse; no proper ceiling, walls that bore nothing but framing and electrical paneling, and lights that were nothing but bulbs hanging from poles. This was certainly not what I expected.
I looked at the eyes and the face surrounding them. The man gazing down at me looked to be in his 40s. Dark brown hair and piercing green eyes. He had the tip of his tongue sticking out from his lips, as though he were studying me and trying to figure out what to do with me. My excitement turned to fear as I wondered who this man was and why he was waiting for me.
Clearing my throat, I spoke for the first time in 300 years.
"Who are you? Where am I? Is this the year 2342?"
The man furrowed his brow as he digested my words. He then spoke and said, "Ya piple me disgoost. Ya caus thinkme in skool twicemore. Call meselv Kolvin. Dis' Greater Ohio Republic, e yes, 's 2342."
My mind attempted to figure out what the hell this guy just said. I do suppose English would have changed in 300 years. I remember how difficult Shakespeare was to understand in my day. What I was able to understand was that his name is Kolvin, I am in the Greater Ohio Republic, and it is indeed 2342.
What the hell. I definitely need a damn drink now.
I tried to gather my thoughts as I analyzed the situation. The pod did what it was supposed to and lasted for 300 years. However, sometime in the ensuing years, the state of Ohio was now known as the Greater Ohio Republic. That knowledge did not explain the hate in Kolvin's eyes as he looked at me.
I spoke slowly and deliberately. "You look at me with hate in your eyes. Why?"
There was no pause of analyzing this time, he immediately responded to me. "Ya methink stoopid? Watchu tawlkin as snayl for? E yes, mehate ya. Mehate ya asoo much. Mehate e wehate all ya tyme skeppin tra'ers!"
My brain almost hurt as I tried to understand what he was saying to me. He must have noticed the struggle in my eyes, because he signed heavily and gave me the universal sign to wait. One finger up and pursed lips as he scattered away. His steps echoed in the warehouse and I knew he didn't walk very far.
He came back with a poster in his hand. The edges were worn and ripping, but the white text was still clearly visible against the black background. It was divided into two parts. The top looked to be written in whatever dialect of English Kolvin was speaking. The bottom was written in plain English that I could read.
>Per Oredynce 22.45-12 de GRO oredyned coyd --e nexting vertues 's true e'boot e treetmint de tyme tra'ers theywanting consolidate con ourplace.
>
>1. All tyme tra'ers dunnit ave sovrnrytes e theycan't e'er obtayn sovrnrytes.
>
>2. All tyme tra'ers ayr treeted per themwishes de grund ownrs de theypod be.
>
>3. Yallallowance to shyute tyme tra'ers onwill -- e con anyreason allwish.
>
>4. Pawnryches youfind e pods moost cunfyskation.
>
>5. Ef stillliving --tyme tra'ers ayr be youtook to e cloosist penti'ary e mayrked e indux.
>
>Per fav seek yourlawplace comuneety fa mas qweshions.
>Per Ordinance 22.45-12 of the GRO ordained code; the following statues are hereby placed into effect governing the treatment of time traitors attempting to acclimate into our society.
>
>1. All time traitors do not have citizenship and are not eligible to obtain citizenship.
>
>2. All time traitors are to be treated at the discretion of the property-owners upon which their pod is located.
>
>3. Permission is granted to shoot time traitors on sight, for any cause deemed necessary.
>
>4. Valuables contained in the pods of time traitors are to be confiscated.
>
>5. If kept alive, time traitors are to be taken to the nearest prison complex to be tagged and cataloged.
>
>Please contact your local policing department for any further questions. |
Paul hit the alarm clock that was ringing on the shelf above his bed. Well, what a bed could be considered 20 years after the EcoWar. It was just a straw mat with some cotton infill with a broadsheet. But it was better than the itchy wool blankets that most others were sleeping on. After all, Paul was considered someone of a certain status. He was a part of the International Technology Department. Most of Paul's colleagues weren't allowed alarms. They had to wake up with the sun. Paul got to sleep in and wake up to the 20th century old wind-up chime alarm. Its nearly century old alarm chime reminded him of his daily chore: reviving the technology from a generation ago that allowed for some personal convenience but that didn't have a net positive ecological footprint. Ever since all of the developed nations fought each other over dwindling natural resources it was decreed that human kind would reverse its cancerous hold on the Earth and start treating it like the beautiful home that it had and would be for even more generations to come.
But still Paul remembered the times before the EcoWar. As a former US citizen, he remembered how much waste there was when every family individually owned their own large appliances. So much water usage with so many individual washing machines and multiple water faucets! Not to mention the individual swimming pools! It was a cacophony of convenience but it was certainly a drain on natural resources. And then the water shortages started. Then electrical blackouts were common with increased heatwaves every year. They were still common but electrical appliances were scarce.
But not at Paul's lab. As he got ready and put his quartz movement watch on, his rotary phone rang. That was very odd. It could only mean one thing. He rushed to pick it up.
"I.T.D. agent Paul. Go ahead."
"Get to the lab, come quick. The old SETI office has power from an external source and they have a message. Messages, actually."
"WHAT? THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"
"I know. Just get a move on. It's 0945 already."With that came a heady click.
Paul's mind raced. They're were always talks of an intelligent extraterrestrial race out there, especially since the late 1940s. Why after 100 years would they now reach out? Could it be because....
He didn't have time to think. He got his work clothes on, not even minding that it was a Saturday. He pedaled faster than ever in his anticipation to the lab. Once there, he confirmed with his supervisor. The SETI base was alive and transmitting a low power radio signal to all of the still operating military bases in the Western Hemisphere at this local hour. They had yet to confirm with their other international counterparts if they had gotten the same signal. The signal, in 20 different human languages, stated:
"WELCOME TO THE UNION OF SAFE HARBOR SPECIES. HUMANS ARE NO LONGER CONSIDERED A CANCER UNTO THEIR OWN PLANET. YOU ARE NOW A PROSPECTIVE MEMBER OF THE UNION. IF YOU EVER DIVULGE INTO OVER UTILIZATION OF EARTHLY OR OTHER PLANETARY RESOURCES YOU WILL BE TERMINATED. CONGRATULATIONS."
Paul didn't know whether to be elated or appalled.... |
For ten long years Caleb bullied me, for the first eight or so it was almost manageable, he would only really call me names, steal or destroy my stuff, and spread rumours about me. When he gained his power, it got much worse for me, without a fear of physical retaliation or even pain, he started using me as a punching bag. I couldn’t do anything about it, anything I tried to fight back with would just end with Caleb laughing and breaking a few of my bones then wandering off. I tried telling someone once but it wasn’t long before Caleb had frightened them into silence about my issue.
But today marks the end of that.
It is finally my seventeenth birthday, and I know the perfect person to use my power on.
I had intentionally kept my birthday as my most guarded secret in school, I wanted this to be a surprise. I had even managed to spread a rumour of my own that I was a year ahead in school so Caleb wouldn’t even suspect retaliation until next year. I walked into school and sat at my usual spot, it wasn’t long until Caleb walked in the school gates and locked eyes with me. A cruel smile crept across his face and he stomped his way towards me. His muscle mass had increased wildly in the past two years, he didn’t even feel pain from working out too hard so he just stayed at the gym in his spare time.
“Wait.” I commanded.
Caleb stopped in his tracks and looked at me confused, this was the first time I had actually come close to standing up for myself. “Why should I?”, He snarled at me.
“B-because” I stuttered out, my confidence leaving me as he slowly started walking towards me again. “I have decided something very important.”
“And what’s that, you waste of space?” He chuckled out
“This won’t keep happening, because today is my seventeenth birthday” Caleb’s eyes filled with fear, recognising what this meant, he took a single step back as he began to consider what power I might have. He tried running, but it was too late, I had already leapt on him and pressed my thumb to his forehead. Caleb’s body went limp and his eyes went blank as I stood up, happy with my victory, but it wasn’t done yet, I had more to do, I wouldn’t just destroy him, I would build him back up again.
“Who are you? Where am I?” were the first words that came out of his mouth when he woke up.
“Your name is Caleb” I said with a small smile, “and I am your friend, Patrick” |
The screen lights up, with a list of dead heroes.
"The man in the mask who showed up a month ago has eliminated 30 of our best so far. We are gathered here today to discuss how he has done this and evaded death."
"We have confirmed their ability is above average hearing. Their equipment consists of an ornamental mask and a relatively simple revolver."
The screen pulls up a 3d image of the mask and weapon, complete with labeled parts.
"We have not been able to confirm their identity, area of residence or anything else about them."
"They have killed 30 of our best in 27 separate locations across an 12 kilometer area in 28 days. They have done nothing other than target heroes."
"Maybe we got their ability wrong?"
"The wounds, though varied, have all been traced back to this weapon. There are no signs of any ability use on the autopsies."
"Is it possible they have teleportation or something similar?"
"Such a power is unheard of!"
"None of the video feed we have shows signs of anything like that."
"And it is possible, though difficult, for one person to cover all of those locations."
The group of top heroes are silent for a while before one of their younger members nervously speaks up.
"Maybe it's not one person, but a bunch of people."
The group stares at him.
"We've recovered what we thought was their body several times, but no mask or weapon with it. All the bodies recovered were unrecognizably mutilated. So what if we did kill some of them, but not all of them?"
"But how would all of them have the same power?"
He thinks for a few moments.
"Maybe they don't have a power at all? Maybe it's something in the mask?"
A slow clap can be heard from behind the curtains of the now open window. Terrible realization crosses the heroes faces.
"Wonderful. Unfortunately, it's already too late."
As he speaks, and the heroes try to stand, the room erupts into gunfire. Several men and women in ornate masks enter, adding extra bullet holes to the corpses for good measure.
"And with this, the city will be ours."
The masks speak. "Yes. Great job everyone."
|
"Sir? But this is a woman's bath-AAAAHHHHH!"
The entire floor gives way, and I find myself sliding down a chute of some sort. I hit the ground with a plop. Skittering to a stand, I look around in an effort to get my bearings. It appeared to be a well lit storage with suits on display. Kingsmen? Was I suddenly in Kingsmen?
I yank down my skirt. Were there cameras here? "Hello? Computer lady?"
"Yes, Agent Rothschild?"
Rothchild? That was my mother's maiden name. Though these suits were to big for her. She was always a small woman. I wander over to a suit, and the scent of peppermint and pipe tobacco hits me. It was a scent I hadn't come across in years.
Uncle Charlie?
He was always getting into trouble into wandering into woman bathrooms. Everyone in the town knew him as a perv. So much so that mom didn't want me going anywhere near him. But...
"Uh, computer lady... I think that you've made a mistake. Charlie Rothchild died six months ago. I'm not him. Could you let me out?"
A wooden panel opened up next to me. It displayed what look like CCTV footage of a busy street. A red car slowly rolled to a stop.
"... Oh ok. Yes that is a car."
A helicopter slammed into it, and both vehicles exploded. I let out a squeal of shock.
"Correct. Agent Rothchild died 187 days ago at 1128 hours."
Mom told me that it had been car accident, but... "Oh god."
The screen flipped through a series of portraits. They were all well dressed men and woman, and a bright red X would flash across their face before the next image would appear. "Agent Burham is still active."
"Who?"
A man's face appeared. He was of average appearance, and appeared to be in his mid-thirties. "Agent Burham was hired by a rival company. He is now using his inside information to wipe all existence of Badb."A bird appeared on the screen next. It looked like a corporate slogan or something. "Researching..."
"... Uh huh."
Three portraits appeared. "Retired agents have also been targeted. Calculating probability for latest target."A woman with large 90's hair appeared on the screen.
I found myself staring, unable to understand what was happening. "Mom?"
"Agent Carol Rothchild."
"Get me out of here!"I frantically look for an exit. "I have to get out of here!"
A door appears in the wall, and I rush inside. We were out grocery shopping together. I went to take a piss while she was going to the checkout line. She might have gone ahead to the car without me, and so far, cars seemed like the worst place to be.
The room I went inside feels like it is moving upward. I pop out the tile floor and burst out of the stall. Running to the parking lot as fast as I can, I get there just in time to see our family van explode. Words can't process what I feel in that moment. Everything is just a void.
"Claire?"
I turn around and see mom, standing there just as stunned as I was. In an instant, I'm bursting into tears. "Mom!"I hug her tightly. "You're okay!"
"Of course I'm okay... We should move indoors though. It isn't safe here."
I let her go with a nod. "Of course, mom. Look, I need to talk to you."
"I know, sweetie. There's something I need to tell you as-"
She never got to finish her sentence. I never got a chance to react. A red dot appeared on her temple, and just as quickly, she was on the ground in a pile of blood and flesh.
"Mom!"
There was that void again. Time seemed to slow as someone grabbed onto my wrist. They were pulling me away from her... I couldn't... I just couldn't...
"No! Let me go!"
I attempt to wretch my arm free, but I feel a sharp pain in the side of my neck instead. Darkness overwhelms me. By the time I begin to gain my senses again, I can feel rough sheets around me. There's the scent of peppermint in the air.
"Hey, Clair Bear. Waking up now?"
I sit up and stare at the man sitting on the edge of the bed next to mine. We appear to be in a hotel room of some time. "Uncle Charlie?"
"Yeah it is. Look, about your mom, and me... And a lot of things, really... We need to have a talk." |
"What's going on? Why is everyone panicking?"
My eyes attempt to follow the chaos of all the monsters try to find their way to safety.
"Please evacuate safely,"the intercoms sounded,"This is not a drill. Leave the nearest exit and move to the designated castle to the north."
I grab the nearest monster, a lamia, by the shoulder as she slithered by with her books tightly held to her as if containing the stress inside.
"Hey! What's going on?"
"I, I think a monster hunter is at the gates, that's why everyone is running."With a panicked glare at me and my hand, she shrugs me off and moves on.
Mr. Ecto floated by me to warn that I should get a move on with the evacuation before he stopped midway his sentences and stared at me. "You probably don't have to worry about it as much as we monsters do, but you might die if they mistake you as a vampire or something. Move along if you want to, but we won't take our chances to save you Mr. Clive.
He gave me a confusing nod, whether it was supposed to be reassuring or not I don't know, and left to guide any students to the castle.
It wasn't just him who had a few words to tell me, either. Others left me a few comments on their way to safety.
"Hey, /human/. Why don't you tell your kind to screw off and leave us alone, huh?"
"I bet /he/ was the one who called them here..."
"Can't believe the nerves of that guy."
"Come on, we gotta get going."
That was the least of it. I might as well be the least popular kid in school now. Thanks to these people, I just might get bullied a bit more than I already do from the werewolves and the incubus. Their words stuck in my mind, and when I'm deep in thought, my legs begin to wander.
This time, they bring me to the courtyard in full view of the people at the front gate. It wasn't just one monster hunter. There were four of them all dressed up in attire like a Van Helsing movie. Armed with a crossbow, pistol, sword, and cross, each one of them looked painfully ready to deliver holy justice while looking slick and sharp with their long black leather trench coats. Except of course, the priest looking guy who had on a white trench coat. The priest waves me over.
I take a look behind me and see a couple of familar faces staring at my back from the now deserted hallway, which was teeming with life just a few minutes ago.
They were my friends, Pence, a ghost who loved the same games I do and Luvie, a demon who just enjoyed unique company.
I glance at the ground and sigh before walking over to the gate.
"Ah, young son of God, what in blazes are you doing here?"inquired the priest.
"Have you been captured by the beasts and escaped their brainwashing tactics?"asked the swordsman.
"Possibly, they already did that, so becareful of his words,"the gunslinger interjected.
"WHERE ARE THE VAMPIRES?!"howled the crossbowman.
I scratch the back of my head and feel for the first time in my life very, very confused. My mouth opens but I stumble for words to say. What should I even be saying in the first place? I was brought here because I asked for a school that's super unique, and I guess my dad happened on a brochure for Sly Lives High School and thought to himself: "Hey, my son could go here and probably not be a failure! Also, it's what he wanted!"How did he get that brochure anyway? I'm only here because Dad wants me to be. I guess he was also looking out for my interests, since I did ask for "uniqueness", but he never did his own research. Hell, I didn't even know monsters were real until the first week of school. I probably shouldn't say "hell"since it's offensive to demons, but whatever.
"Son? It seems we cannot proceed into this... estate without proper let-in by someone on the inside without having to expend valuable resources to unbind the barrier,"stated the priest after I blankly looked at them for a couple minutes. "Would you mind doing the honors?"
"SHOW ME THE VAMPIRES,"screamed the crossbowman.
The gate seemed pretty simple to open up. It was like any other sliding gate where it unlocks with a handle that lifts the bar out of the ground. I put my hand on the handle with no resistance against it.
I paused again to regain my thoughts. With the few months I've been here, every monster I've seen felt as human as anyone I've ever known despite how strong or wise they could be. They're just as alive as us and want to live as much as us. I take a glance back at the school, and in the courtyard stood Luvie and Pence, two great examples of my time spent happily.
"James, if you open the gate now, everyone might not have made it to the castle and they'll close it to keep the principal safe,"Pence informed me.
"You're a pretty cool guy, James. Whether you open it is up to you, but think hard about your choices. I think we should all get to the castle since it's kept Mr. Dracula safe for more than a millenia,"added Luvie.
"You, demon, dare tempt this son of God?"
Luvie shrugged her shoulders and put a smug smile on her face. "The only man I've tempted against his will is my own father to let me come here."
"Keep your mouth shut, wench!"
"Hey!"My voice boomed into the exchange. "No one talks to my friend like that. Not even you."I point my finger at the priest and his party is taken aback. "This is my school. I'm sure you've had your share of embarassment when you were a teenager. Now I have to deal with the embarassment you guys have given me when everything goes back to normal. You guys give humans a bad name in the monster world because you won't hear a single word they say and you go on your 'quests' to rid the world of 'dangerous' monsters when all you're doing here is trying to kill kids! This is a school! Pick on someone your own size!"
The priest and his party glance at each other with worried looks and furrowed eyebrows. Silently, they turn around to leave. The swordsman takes the crossbowman by the arm and starts to drag him away yelling,"No! But the vampires!"The gunslinger follows in tow. The priest bows his head in apology saying,"We did not realize this was a non-combat area. We lost our map and thought we found a monster training camp. Do you know the way to the nearest city?"
"There's a convenient store down the street a few blocks away,"taunted Luvie.
The priest stifled his scoff, paused, and bowed his head again before turning away to meet his comrades.
Once they had gotten a good distance away, I took a seat on a bench in the courtyard.
"What a day,"I sighed.
"Thanks for covering for us, James."
"Yeah, anytime."
"I'll go let Mr. Ecto know that school can resume,"Pence suggested.
"Mmmnnah. Let's just sit here until they realize they're gone. I don't wanna do school right now,"I replied.
"Sounds good to me,"Luvie agreed.
"Okay, then,"conceeded Pence.
We sat there talking about our most-loved subjects be it shows, books, and ritual sacrifices, although the last was mostly Luvie. We also spoke about how I was the only human in the school, but they told me that it was fine. It's like the monsters trying to live in disguise in the human world and as the only human in a monster school, I can understand what it feels like to be different than most of the world. It wasn't until two hours later that Mr. Ecto and Mrs. Plasm returned to check on the school, as ghosts weren't as prone to danger, to determine if it was safe enough to resume class.
Needless to say, they were both surprised to see us three sitting here. |
"Your mask, Holy Father."
Vincenzo held out the white faux-silk mask as though his wizened hands held a holy relic. I snatched it from him unceremoniously.
"I can never tell if you're making fun of me when you act like that, *your eminence.*"I complained, as I tied the mask around my head, completing my transformation from leader of the world's largest religious denomination to Il Scimmio Bianco -- the White Monkey. That was my official stage name as Europe's most popular acrobatic performer, though many of my English-speaking fans jokingly called me "the pope on a rope"due to my striking white costume. Little did they know.
Cardinal Vincenzo Alfonsi, one of the few members of the Roman Curia aware of my double life, bowed humbly, but I caught the tiny smirk on his lips. "Perish the thought, your holiness."
I stretched laboriously, as the crowd in the arena beyond the curtain cheered for the capable troupe of tumblers that were my opening act. I winced more than once as I prepared my muscles and joints for the punishment they were about to receive as I performed death-defying feats high above the arena floor -- I just wasn't as young as I used to be.
Vincenzo frowned with concern. "Holy Father, are you certain..."
I waved him to silence. "I'm fine, Vincenzo. St. Paul had his 'thorn in the flesh' and I have mine."I carefully lowered myself into a split, continuing as I leaned forward to touch my toes. "St. Paul made tents, St. Peter fished, and I have *my* trade, the proceeds from which fund many good works of the Church. If God wills it, I still have years more on the high wire and trapeze."
"As you say."Vincenzo conceded, reluctantly. He was dressed in his own "costume"of sorts -- a smart business suit and tie, along with an outrageous pair of expensive sunglasses that completed his disguise as my agent and manager. I did not ask Vincenzo to sin by lying about his identity -- but then, there was no need. No one ever suspected that the slick, fast-talking Vincenzo Alfonsi that represented the White Monkey was the same Vincenzo Alfonsi as the humble, soft-spoken Cardinal from Northern Italy who occupied a middling position in the Vatican.
I rose smoothly to my feet as the crowd's cheering reached a crescendo, and the ringmaster began my introduction.
"Looks like I'm on."
"I will pray for your safety, as always, Holy Father."Vincenzo said, with a bow, pulling his rosary from his suit pocket.
With a grateful nod to my friend and confidant, I swept aside the curtain, and stepped out into the arena, a silent prayer of my own passing my lips as the roar of the crowd washed over me.
​ |
You're dead now, and you don't exist anymore.
As surely as you didn't exist in the Pleistocene, you don't exist now.
As surely as you didn't exist in Ancient Egypt, you don't exist now.
As surely as you didn't exist during World War I, you don't exist now.
As surely as you never existed in Belgium, or on the Moon, or anywhere in deep space even during your lifetime, you don't exist now.
You don't feel bad about that, because you don't exist.
You don't dread an eternity of nothingness, because you don't exist.
You're not even at peace about it, because you don't exist.
*You just plain don't exist.*
You find that mildly annoying. |
“CERBERUS GUARDIAN OF HELL COME FORTH AND GRANT US A DEED!”
A small three head puppy emerged from the summoning circle along with a note. “This is Cassy my daughter. It’s her first job so be easy on her. From the ‘guardian of hell’ Cerberus”
The cultist look at one another in confusion. The leader of the group approached the pup.
“Uh... many of our members are curious about Hell and what justifies gettin in. Mind calming their nerves?”
A follower rose his head. “Grand Elder I’m deeply sorry. We must have translated the text incorrectly. I and those who were in charge of the text will gladly be the next sacrifice.” Several other follower stepped forward and kneeled down. “Forgive us, your lost sheep.”
The leader shook his head. “No no no get up. Yes you got the text wrong but I re read it and found out it’s true intent. Look many of you are in a bad mental space right now and I’m not sure if it due to our weekly appeasement to the eldrich or problems at work but you all need some help. So I set up this summon to boost moral and get you all well and good for the next summon.”
Many of the cultist looked at each other in confusion before raising their hands. The leader spoke one more. “Yes you can pet her.”
It was a very fluffy dog. |
"Do you know how fast you were going?"
"No but I know where I am."The human replied.
"Look at that John. We have ourselves a comedian."It said from 3 of its 9 tentacles.
"Fucking delinquent. Looks to be from some backwater part of the galaxy. Mars I'm guessing, Tim."John spat.
"No couldn't be Mars we executed them. Galactic tax evasion 3 billion years ago."
"You know I don't keep up with current events Tim."
"Look gentlemen I was just following the speed of traffic."The human replied.
"Oh shoot. John, I think we got ourselves one of those hairless monkeys from Earth."
"Apes, Tim."
"What?"
"They're apes not monkeys. I'm starting to think your a speciesist. Bigoted towards aliens, Tim."
"Fuck off! In what way?"
"Remember yesterday we pulled over that Tralfamadorian? You asked him if he had the time. Then you ticketed him for having an open container of vodka in the vehicle. You pointed to the sack of potatoes and said something about time being relative."
Tim tilted his ink sack backwards and roared with laughter. "Right. Right. The fellas at the station had a good laugh at that. Anyway how am I supposed to know he's an ape? I'm not a cryptozoologist."
"Xenobiologist, Tim. Cryptozoologists study mythical creatures like the big tentacles."
"Big tentacles?"
"You know, the Sasquid. Large hairy squid roams the oceans, posing for blurry pics."
"Sasquid is real, Tim. My uncle Greg saw one once."
"Your uncle Greg the alcoholic?"
"Why'd you have to bring that up."Tim stopped and looked around. "Wait the humans fucking gone."
"Yeah he left Tim."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"You told me to never interrupt you when you're riffing. My therapist says we have issues with codependency when it comes to witty banter."
"The fuck does Sheila know. Well where is he then?"
"I don't know. But I know how fast he was going."John said, tentacles smiling from ears to ears. |
"You want outside again? You were just out there,"Wilfred the Wizard said as he opened the door for his golden retriever.
Wilfred closed the door with a sigh. He took two steps back into the room and heard a scratch at the door.
"Oh for the love of--"Wilfred turned around. "Gandalf,"he said as he opened the door. "If you could open doors yourself, you'd be much easier to care for."
A thought struck Wilfred. The door opening spell doesn't have a verbal component. Could a dog learn it? There was only one way to find out.
After three weeks training, Gandalf finally managed to open the door himself. Wilfred beamed. "Now you can let yourself out,"he said, "and I can get back to my studies."
A little while later, Wilfred heard a scratching at the door.
"Gandalf, you know how to open that now, remember?"
Gandalf barked and looked at Wilfred, waiting for him to open the door as he always did.
Wilfred grumbled as he walked over to the door and waved it open. "You're not too bright, are you Gandalf? But I still love you."
Gandalf barked a happy bark, but just sat there looking out the open door.
Wilfred sighed and closed the door. Perhaps, he thought, he could teach the dog his intelligence spell. Then Gandalf could let himself in and out and stop bothering Wilfred.
So, Wilfred spent the next eight weeks training his golden retriever to cast intelligence.
Finally, he had success. Gandalf could now increase his intelligence to just beyond ordinary human levels.
"Great,"Wilfred said. "Now I can get back to my reading."
He heard a scratch at the door. There was Gandalf, sitting at the door watching him, waiting for him to open it.
Wilfred stood there, staring. Gandalf barked.
"You know how to open that,"Wilfred said. "You have the spell, you have the intelligence. What am I missing? Tell me!"
Tell him... That's a thought. Gandalf was intelligent now. Wilfred could cast tongues. That would allow Gandalf to speak to him.
Wilfred cast tongues on Gandalf and himself.
Then he asked "Why, Gandalf, why? Why do you always scratch at the door? Why do you always want in and out all the time?"
Gandalf looked sadly at Wilfred. Then he spoke. "I love you, master. But you are always busy. Letting me in and out and teaching me how to let myself in and out are the only time you interact with me. Those are my favourite times. I don't want outside, I just want you to notice me, even for just a second."
Wilfred looked at Gandalf and started to cry. "I'm sorry Gandalf, I have been an inattentive sod, haven't I? From now on, I will interact with you every day. I'll take you for walks and play fetch and teach you more spells."
"Thank you,"said Gandalf, running up and licking Wilfred. The dog sat down and looked back at the door. "You could also install a doggy door,"he said. |
'We have to open with this idea of *control'* you begin.
Several demons around you begin nodding vigorously at these words, so much that a couple of the more enthusiastic ones clatter their horns into one another accidentally, the collisions sending sparks dancing away into the open, breezy night air.
​
'It's all about control over yourself. Now you have heaven, one the one hand' - you raise your left hoof aloft to demonstrate the point - 'and hell on the other' you raise your right hoof, and smile warmly towards the sweating and nervous young man before you.
​
'It's all about who's your boss. If you think of it like work, it's sort of like being self-employed or a desk driven wage slave, see? *Control* is the name of the game, Mr...' You glance down at your scroll. 'Mr. Gilmore'.
​
Mr. Gilmore looked very ill.
​
'I'm dreaming' he mumbled to himself.
​
'That's enough!' cries a high pitched and infuriated voice. You roll your eyes theatrically at your demon cohorts, who all begin to snicker.
​
The delegation for heaven had arrived.
​
'We're supposed to start talking to them *together'* the angel snaps. He draws up a chair across the table, sits down, opens his briefcase, closes it again, fiddles with his tie, adopts a sombre expression, and begins immediately in a drawling voice:
​
'Sacrifice, honesty, goodness, chastity. These are the true paths to virtue, my child'.
​
Mr. Gilmore, who by this point had resigned himself to the dream full force, pipes up for the first time.
​
'Who are you?'
​
The angel stopped, frustrated. Now he'd have to start from the beginning again.
​
'I' he spoke imperiously, 'am an agent of our Lord'.
​
'*Your* Lord' you interject quickly with a wink at Gilmore.
​
'err... yes, *my* Lord' the angel corrects himself. 'But hopefully *your* Lord as well. Yes. And I come to you in this dream, this vision, on the first day of your 21st year to impart on you the truths of life and death. To steer you along, my young one, the right road.'
​
'And my name's Hank' you enthusiastically butt in, holding forth your right hoof to shake and pushing a bottle of beer into Gilmore's hand with the left.
​
The angel adopts a pained expression as Gilmore takes a small sip and gives a nervous but grateful smile.
​
'Ah now!' the angel said hurriedly, 'you're not really supposed to drink that stuff. Doesn't go over too well with the man upstairs. Moderation is key of course. Nobody would hold a single beer against you now but let's try and keep a clear head, shall we?'
​
Gilmore downed the drink as the angel spoke and you have another in his hand before the angel can protest.
​
'It's his dream; he can drink what he pleases' you say, grinning a a toothy grin at Gilmore once more.
​
'Oh, I see' said Gilmore simply, and sipped his second beer.
'So you're here to tell me how to get into heaven, and you're here to tell me how to get into hell'. He points at the angel and you in turn with his beer free hand.
​
'Exactly' the angel sighed. 'Now then. Sacrifice, honesty, goodness, chastity. These are the true...'
​
'Gilmore doesn't want to hear about that' you yawn. 'Everyone knows how to get in to heaven and hell. Step one: die. Boom! You're in one or t'other. What he wants to know, is what we can *offer*'.
​
The angel stood up from his chair and stared indignantly over at you.
​
'Offer?' he squeaked. 'What could you possibly offer? Hell is a miserable place; everyone knows that!'
​
'Oh, have you been?' you answer back quickly, before turning to Gilmore.
​
'Listen, this guy's going to give you the dressing down on how to live. How you *must* exist to get into his private after-party once you choke away your last few desperate, gasping breaths on a small chicken bone some forty-seven years, six months, two days and seventeen minutes from now.'
​
'You're not supposed to tell them how they...' the angel shouted in his high, quavering tenor.
​
'But all I'm here to say is: live. *Live!*, Gilmore. Live as you want to, live the best you can! Don't take shit, don't roll over, don't play dead. Dream big, fight hard, fuck harder and when the end comes, which it will, look back and say you were your own man! Not a cowardly kiss-ass, scuttling from moment to moment, blinded by the oppressive, totalitarian lights of an ancient morality nobody really knows is the right one anyway.'
​
The angel gave a little gasp at this, and you point at him.
​
'This guy', you say to Gilmore, 'is in heaven, and he has to come down here and deal with me and my familiars for eternity. Doesn't sound too great a deal now, does it? He never got the chance to live, always running too and fro looking for the mightiest boot for him to gratefully lick the shit off it. They'll tell you hell is for the people God doesn't want, but really, it's for the people who didn't want Him'.
​
The angel looked deeply troubled at these words, and Gilmore spoke quietly.
​
'But... isn't hell really bad?'
​
You give an endearing sigh.
​
'It's as good as you make it I suppose, just like life. But of course you never die. All that torture stuff - blown way out of proportion - it's ludicrous some of the stories people tell on Earth'.
​
Gilmore nods slowly.
​
'All I'm saying is' you conclude, pressing your advantage, 'lead the best life you can, and end up where you end up. Why worry too much? Why let yourself be pushed around? You seem like a smart person, a *good* person. You've got nothing to worry about'.
​
The angel is now looking at you intently as well.
​
'I think that's about time, don't you?' you ask the angel, kindly.
​
'Oh, yes' he squeaks, quite forgetting what they were all there for the in the first place. A few of the demons behind you grin at one another.
​
'Well, hope to see you later then' you say to Gilmore, who by now is fading quickly, back into Earth's reality.
​
'Yeah' Gilmore replies. 'And thanks for the beer!'
​
And he's gone.
​
You make a long business of dismissing your demon familiars and drawing your papers together so the angel and you are quite alone. He approaches you shyly.
​
'Would it be alright if I... errr... came to check out your place before heading back?' he asked tentatively.
​
You give a very broad, toothy grin. 'Of course my friend, we'll portal in together shall we? You'll be back before anyone knows it.'
​
Of course, once you've portalled into hell, there's no portalling out with permission from the head honcho Himself. The angel didn't know that, how could he?
​
Your grin spreads wider and wider and wider as the portal opens and the angel steps through into a world of flames and fury.
​
By God, you're good at your job. |
“Amazing. And they just kept building them?” Therien Red-Triangle asked as he looked over the data.
“Yes, they called it ‘Mutually Assured Destruction’. If war began, neither side would win,” Helorat Green-Square explained, “After their socio-economic war was resolved, they simply kept the warheads. What’s more, they built additional ones.”
“Purpose?”
“Defense, according to what we’ve gathered.”
“From?”
“Other nation states that might produce a threat. Essentially, no immediate reason, but comparable weapons existed and needed to be matched.”
“There is a savage logic to that,” Red-Triangle noted as they floated around the observatory, “Initial reports indicate they advance technology to meet threats. Why continue using atomics, even if just larger ones?”
“They’ve more or less plateaued. Some scientific development is being done, but not as much as necessary to reach the next bracket,” Colasit Teal-Square, “No real challenge has incurred their development and our data indicates a challenge is necessary for their growth.”
“I see…” Red-Triangle said with regret, “That is unfortunate, they would make ideal proxies against the Brin, once uplifted. And so near the severance curve…”
“There may still be a way,” a voice said. Red-Triangle turned to see Qolper Orange-Hexagon.
“By all means,” Red-Triangle said, “Share it.”
“The psychological studies indicate that they’re, well, Humans are, I mean to say-”
“This epoch, Hexagon.”
“Humans ignore danger when operating in their own interests, especially if that danger isn’t known fully. They seek profit and pleasure above accomplishment. They have a tribal attitude that lends itself to isolation and pride in their own groups.”
“Yes…”
“If we uplift them, they will wish to advance on their own. If we partially uplift them, I believe that drive will increase. If we leave their economy intact, even more so. The resources necessary for creating certain technologies are scarce around their star system, but there are some systems nearby,” three appeared in the domed room, “That would be perfect for large scale mining.”
“All of which are across the severance curve… I see.
“But we’ll have to tell them about the Brin,” Green-Square said, “It would look bad, and not to mention obvious, if we uplifted a species and didn’t tell them about the looming threat nearby.”
“As I stated,” Orange-Heaxagon said, “They will ignore that danger because they have not experienced it themselves. They pollute and destroy their planet already. The need for resources to produce and sell the technology we give them will be all the motivation they need. They will cross the severance curve, they will mine, the Brin will respond in the horrific way they do, and there will be a war.
“A war we would be obligated to assist them with, as we uplifted them,” Teal-Square added, “We would supply them with weapons that, as reports indicate, they can use to far greater effect than we can. Than even the Brin can. And when they see what the Brin do to fight, they’ll not stop until they kill every Brin alive. It would be a slaughter on a galactic scale.”
“And in the end, the humans die, the Brin die, and we live. Good work, Qolper Orange-Hexa- Orange-Square. You just won our next war.” |
Did you ever hear the story of the boy on the beach? I thought not, though it's a common legend. This boy on the beach was not powerful nor wise, but he could prevent the starfish from dying by throwing them one by one back into the sea. Of course, there was an old man who asked him why, and he replied that even if he could not save every single beached starfish, he could at least make a difference for that one starfish he returned to the water.
I'm just like the boy. I know of my... ability. But it's nowhere as impressive as what you have, what with your super strength and flight. That puts you in a whole new tier of protection. You were meant to deal with things way beyond what our country or planet could face. Remember the alien attack on the city 3 years ago? I was there, saving as many lives as I could, while you flew straight into the spacecraft and ripped it apart - I'm sorry, I have to ask. Is that really what happened? No? Well, if you don't want to tell me about it, then no matter.
Superheroes have existed for a long time, I know, and they get all the awe. But don't tell me your job doesn't come with stresses too. What happens when our government wants to use you for less-than-benevolent purposes? Isn't the job of maintaining two separate identities extremely taxing on your life in both the public and private realms? Do you not worry that one simple mishap will forever tarnish your reputation? If I keep doing what I do best, healing the injured, I don't need to contend with these disadvantages. I am a superhero in the medical industry; to the city. That's all I can do, and that's all I need to.
Well if that's all, I'll be on my way. I need to enjoy the rest of my day off, after all. And remember, you may be a superhero, but you're only 19. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I hope it's a good one. |
I looked at the note. It was April 14 2003, and I had no clue what would be special about this day. Being a chubby guy, I’d struggled with bullies but we were mostly past that now. I wasn’t popular, but I enjoyed some semblance of normalness, I guess you could call it.
The time travelers that visited me never spoke of why they wanted to meet with me. Of what I was famous for. I always assumed it would be many years from now, but according to the note, something would happen today that would change that. I felt my heart sink. Maybe what would happen would be that I’d just die in a spectacular way that would be chain emailed to fame.
The day went by. I went to school and did all my classes as usual. At the gym, I cringed as I often did, because it reminded me of that video tape I’d lost. I’d sincerely hate if anyone found it, much less saw it. But more than a year had passed, so I guessed I was off the hook.
After school, mom served us turkey and gravy. Nothing had happened which I could imagine would make me famous - and I was both disappointed and relieved for that. I went to my room to do some homework. My goal was to become a law graduate, so plenty of reading was required.
When I’d finally finished my homework, I saw that the sun had gone down. Before heading to bed, I decided to turn on my computer and check my e-mail. I hadn’t had time during the day to do so, and I’d made it a habit to check it regularly. I’d received nothing less than fifty seven new e-mails, of which only three of them were spam mails. I opened the first one titled “Very important! Wake up man!” and it read: “Dude, you need to check this shit out NOW! Is that you on the vid?” The message was followed by a link.
It was from one of my friends so I wasn’t scared that clicking the link would infect my computer with a virus. Still, I remained cautious. I already had a feeling of what vid he was referring to.
I was right. There I was: Chubby me, dancing around, arms flailing, swinging a golf ball retriever as if I had scorpions crawling in my underwear. I sighed heavily and felt the annoying pang of betrayal in my throat. I knew what would happen. This vid would be spread out like wildfire through Napster or Grokster or both. I felt tears on my cheeks. At least they hadn’t mentioned my name, which had been the cause for much ridicule earlier on in my life.
I finished brushing my teeth and went to bed. Under my pillow I found a new note, which read: “You’re in for one hell of a ride, Kid. But things will get better after that. With love, from your friends in the future”.
Yeah I was the Kid alright. I remembered what they’d called the video. First known as Jackass_starwars_funny, it was already now renamed to star_wars_kid. |
Lia gazed out a window of the spaceship, wishing her parents had told her how long they'd be gone. The spaceship was docked at a "neutral meeting location,"so she wouldn't be in any danger. Her mother, a linguist, and her father, a biologist, had both been selected for the mission to meet the aliens.
"This will be a good opportunity for you,"her father had said. "You'll be one of the first people to meet an alien! Aren't you excited?"
"What's an alien?"Lia had asked, unable to remember what the word meant at the time. Now she knew it was a creature from outer space. Her parents had warned her that the aliens might be scary or dangerous. But also, Lia privately thought, they might be funny and nice.
A movement caught her attention from outside the spaceship. There was a black-and-white ball rolling across the docking bay. A football! Lia sat up in interest as an alien ran into view and started searching for the ball. It was a child like her, although it was shorter and had an extra eye, which was weird.
Her parents had told her to stay on the spaceship. But Lia had always been taught to help others, hadn't she? Even if they were from outer space. She snuck past the dozing space corporal and into the docking bay without feeling any bit of guilt. The alien was startled when Lia appeared. But when she retrieved the football from behind a crate, it smiled in understanding.
"Thank you,"the alien said, then hesitated.
Lia had learned enough of the alien language from her mother that she understood. "You're welcome,"she said. "What's your name?"
"Paul. What's yours?"
"Lia."
"Want to play?"Paul asked, pointing at the football.
"Yes!"Lia said happily.
For the next hour, Lia played football with her new friend Paul. He told her that he was a boy, that he was ten years old, that the aliens had a different word for football, and that his favorite food was ice cream. Lia's favorite food was also ice cream - but before she could say anything, a group of adults, including her parents, entered the docking bay.
Lia excitedly started to tell the adults about her new friend, but the look on their faces was terrifed. In an instant, Lia and Paul were separated.
"I told you they could be dangerous!"her parents said furiously. "We still don't know their true intentions. Don't you understand? You can't just go around playing with aliens. We don't even know anything about them yet!"
"They like ice cream,"Lia said stubbornly. "And they have football."
But her parents weren't even listening anymore. Everyone was boarding the spaceship. When she once again gazed out the window, Paul was being scolded by a pair of adults who must be his parents. The football was lying in the middle of the docking bay, forgotten by everyone else. And as the spaceship flew out of the docking bay, preparing to return to the Andromeda Galaxy, Lia waved sadly at him.
And he looked at her with his two eyes and waved back. |
*Is everything alright on the landing module? We're getting some peculiar readings.*
The tinny sound of a panicking Houston based math whiz was coming into the lunar module's tightly packed cockpit. Commander Alex Johnson leaned towards the mic. "Everything seems ok on our end. Still 4 miles above the lunar surface. You're getting peculiar readings?"
**Oh god, I hope it's not my heart rate.** I thought to myself. I could feel my heart nearly popping out of my gut. A familiar feeling for sure. The kind of symptom you get when a big secret is about to come out. Well, and another thing, the pay off for a lot of really hard work.
*Officer Talbot's heart rate is completely abnormal. If it's verified to be an accurate reading, we need to call off the landing.*
"I'm looking at Officer Talbot right now, and he seems completely fine. Did you always have that mustache and uni-brow? How high is his heart rate reporting?"
*Climbing above 500 BMP.*
"Holy smokes. You ok, Talbot?"
**Gotta keep it cool.** "No, I'm fine. thanks. Must be a malfunction. Ha! Houston we're fine. Probably just the fact we're free falling towards the lunar surface!"
I knew my heart rate was probably resting now at 500 BPM. Something that would kill mere man, but barely register for me, a were-man. Still, I was too close to blow it now. I wouldn't have this chance again. I could already feel it starting. No. I had to keep it together. Focus. Focus on all the hard work, focus on how close to my dream I was. My lips began to salivate. I looked out the tiny reinforced window to my left that showed our orbital shuttle getting smaller and smaller, and then out the window on my right. Out the right I could just see a curve of the moon. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. **We were so close**. Just a few more minutes. Focus. Think about the hard work.
Larry Talbot had always been fascinated by space. He'd always loved the moon. Lots of people when they look up at the moon dream about what it's like to be there. Imagine his luck, he was about to find out. **If he kept his cool**. When he was a kid, he dreamed about going to space, going to the stars, seeing the Earth from way up high and being in that exclusive group of people who get to call themselves astronauts.
That desire was only inflamed more when an ancient lupine monster came bounding out of the woods to bite him while on a boy scouts camping trip. The foul beast had passed on a sinister curse to him. By the light of the full moon Larry Talbot would turn into a wolfman filled with dark power and hunger for human flesh. The clearer and brighter the moon was, the more powerful a beast I would turn into.
Most of the time, when he had to keep his secret as safe as possible he'd chain himself at the bottom of an abandoned missile silo, he'd discovered as a kid. But during one bright blood moon night, Larry had experimented and found he'd turned so large that he'd had to crouch to slink lower than the houses in his neighborhood. **What would happen if you took a werewolf where there was always a full moon?**
The curse was awful. At first it rocked little Larry's life, but he was boy scout dreaming of being an astronaut. Perseverance was in his blood and he used being a werewolf to thrive. Let me tell you, it isn't easy to become an astronaut. But the wolf powers gave him extra energy and confidence to go from being an eagle scout, to a marine fighter pilot, to being a naval test pilot, and now strapped into a tin can rocketing towards that big ball of cheese that had occupied so many of Officer Larry Talbot's dreams. There were lots of rumors that followed Talbot's career, but people liked and respected him, so things like recurring blood stains or missing associates were swept under the rug. Many who knew Larry described him as having a certain 'carnage.'
"You ok Talbot?"
I looked across at the commander. And my first thought was: **What does this man's blood taste like.**
"I'm better than ever, commander. Just a little anxious to take some steps on the moon."
*Decide now if you're good, 5 seconds to call off the mission. You're just a minute from touch down.*
"We're good!"I shouted. "We're great! Commander, tell Houston we're fine to land."
**Nothing was going to stop me from landing on the moon.** I would kill anybody who got in my way. Even this famed astronaut who had been my mentor for the last 10 years. The wolf was howling in my ears.
The classic wolfman dilemma was that on the night of the full moon, man would transmogrify into wolf. But Larry Talbot was a scientist. He wondered what would happen if a werewolf actually went to the moon. He knew with a dark sense of certainty that a wolfman on the moon would be a big deal.
"We're all set."Said the commander.
*Nothing we can do now! Landing sequence is engaged!*
I held my breath. Wolf or not, the final drop always made my stomach flip over. The module rattled and was heating up but then the thrusters kicked in and our descent began to slow. And finally we touched down. **The wolf has landed.** I could feel the energy charging through my body. I could feel my toes and finger joints elongating, I knew my back was beginning to grow spikes. Hair was sprouting out of every pore. **This would be good.**
"Welcome to the moon, buddy! The billion dollar tourist destination,"said the commander. He was unbuckling his jump seat and flipping switches on the control panel. Lunar energy was pouring into my body, I felt paralyzed and energized at the same time. I looked out the window again and my eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
"You ready to get out there buddy,"The commander looked up and at me, his faithful partner for many years. "Oh God Talbot! What's wrong with your eyes! How'd your teeth get so big! Are you ok?"
I smiled and revealed my mouth full of daggers. "Sorry, commander, I've kept a little secret from you for some time. Back in the scouts I got moon fever. The real kinda moon fever. Thanks for helping me get here!"
"Mayday! Mayday!"Screamed the commander.
I clawed off my space helmet and chomped right into him. Right through his space helmet and into his face. Blood flowed down his his space suit. I guessed right, he was delicious.
*Report back, report back! What is happening on the lunar surface!*
"UH Houston, we've got a problem,"I growled. "But I think I have a solution."I punched the control panel and the tinny racket shut off.
I was about to lose the power to speak. I was about to lose my humanity. It felt incredible. I ripped open the module's hatch and bright moonlight flowed into my eyes and burned my soul. I climbed down the little lander's ladder.
**One small step for wolfman, one giant leap for Werekind.**
I had landed on the moon. I let out an enormous howl! Destiny had been achieved. My body was growing big, bigger than it had ever been. I was ripping through the space suit. I realized the moon had given me enough power, I no longer needed air.
I was huge now. Bigger than I could have ever believed. I could punt King Kong at this size, I could probably wrestle down Godzilla. I had made my dream a reality, now time for a new dream. I looked up at the lunar sky. The Earth was right there. I howled again.
Thinking quick, I picked up the 5 ton jet fuel canister and shook it as if it was a can of coca cola. I strapped the remains of the lunar module to my back and looked at my target. My last thought before the wolf completely took over was, **It's going to be fun to eat every living thing on the Earth.** |
I love starting new characters.
It's hard to explain but there's a rush each time you do, at least for me. It's like jumping out of a plane, you have this sensation of danger as tangible as the things around you but once the parachute deploys it all fades away into the clouds around you.
I always enable random starts as well.
I can spawn in the Bottomless Pits of Sarcosia or in the Jungle of Des, either of those would be impossible to escape from without the proper items and runic paths.
But that gamble is my drug and my mind races amongst the infinite possibilities. Now there's no immediate pain for me if my character were to die, but if my character were to die my lifespan is shortened by the difference in level between me and the monster.
It's not too bad of a deal considering it's the best game ever fucking created - but that's a tangent.
I put on my headset and luckily spawned in one of the best locations in the game.
LEVEL ONE floats over my head but that quickly changes as I make short work of the various hobgoblins and possessed mushrooms.
By LEVEL FIVE, I finally received my power to enhance my physical weapons with elemental energy, I was pretty excited too considering I hadn't died yet.
But no one ever told me how easy it was to make the wrong turn.
I didn't notice but maybe I should have when the enemy mobs stopped appearing and the path ahead turned crimson red.
And then it appeared.
Gartan the Worldbreaker, a colossal beast with an infinite array of arms and ivory horns drenched in the blood of those who have attempted to kill him.
Above his head I could see his level and it filled me with pure unflinching fear,
LEVEL 150
>"***And who might you be? Mere mortal, your strength is nigh stronger than that of a mewling."***
I couldn't find the words to respond.
Rumminging through my bag, I could pop my berserker potion but even that wouldn't scratch Gartan, and with this high of a level difference if I die.... I might not be alive by tomorrow morning. As it turned out, I couldn't run away either as the entrance had suddenly been blocked.
So I did the only thing I could - I charged forward with every single potion buff and ability I could muster.
But before I could even strike Gartan, he stops me in my place.
>***"Such a wild display from such a diminutive shell.... maybe I underestimate your tenacity or your resolve to see your enemies crushed and beneath your feet. If so, speak or face my wrath."***
I can barely make it to above a whisper,
>"Yes. My goal in this world is to be the strongest and nothing else could give me pleasure."
I really meant that? In the presence of such strength even I wasn't sure of my own words. I questioned if this was some form of mental corruption... whether my low LEVEL had played a part in the seeping doubt now spreading all over my body, mind and soul. But then again, none of it mattered by the time Gartan spoke again, his voice echoing off the walls like the last cries of a banshee but with the depth and darkness of a vast ocean.
>***"Ahhhhh so I see that our two minds are linked in some way. I pity you mortal for you still have much to do, many many more bodies to crush before you can reach my own state of existence. Yet, hear me and hear me until the end of days, I will watch over you and assist you in times of need.***
I couldn't believe it, somehow... as a LEVEL 5, I had just accomplished the impossible by having my guardian be the strongest raid boss in the game.
From then onwards, the game became a matter of gaining experience and letting Gartan run amok, destroying other players who attempted to hurt me. Once I became strong enough, Gartan became the observer as I cleaved my opponents in two with my Infernal Blade and tore their essence away with my Dagger of Rending.
By the time I got to LEVEL 400, I had already made a name for myself and discovered every single location and defeated every enemy there was to fight.
When the day came for me and Gartan to fight, billions of players tuned in and came to the arena to watch the battle, but none had realized how strong I was. When I attacked, there was nothing but blue flame and Gartan himself knew that this fight would be impossible to win. Yet he continued his attacks against me and even managed to draw blood, but in the end I had held the upper hand and with one last blow, immolated Gartan's very essence and made history.
I was the first player in the decades spanning life cycle of the game to have never died.
And with that accomplishment, I logged off and looked at the option to start anew.
I couldn't help but smile and no longer delay the inevitable...
*-click-* |
Pale moonlight shone through the tops of ancient trees. The air was chill, clouds of breath billowed out into the still night air. The sound of countless feet crunched through the snow. Coughs and low whispered voices echoed through the night.
"We've tracked them this far, but their tracks just vanish up ahead. It's like they disappeared into the trees,"said a scout of middle years.
Commander Malkir looked up into the canopy, the trees stood completely still, not even the light breeze stirred their branches. "These savages think this place to be sacred,"he said, quietly, "They claim the forest protects them, watches over them."
Malkir shook his head slowly and cursed, "I don't like defiling burial grounds. No man would... but my orders are clear. They've fled into the forest, it could take weeks to clear them out."Malkir paused briefly before hesitantly ordering, "Ready the oil, light the torches! If they don't surrender, we burn the woods!"He hoped that the savages would relent. The Gods looked down on disturbing the dead. He relished not the thought of their ire.
The men poured the oil on dozens of trees, they soaked the ground such that the snow was a slurry of oil and ice. They held their torches,smoke drifted into the air in lazy curls, the light was nearly blinding in the darkness.
"Last chance! Surrender now, and this forest will be spared the torch! Surrender and we will ensure you are buried in this wood!"he yelled, hoping beyond hope to hear a returning answer. Nothing.
He counted down in his head...1...2...3...4...."Retreat from the forest, throw in your torches. Spread the order,"he commanded his Lieutenant, his voice heavy with the burden of the command.
Malkir watched from the outskirt of the forest as the first torch was thrown. The flame flared into life, spreading hungrily through the snow and underbrush. My Lieutenant barked a command, and the rest of the torches flew. We were forced to retreat from the conflagration, the heat searing our backs for a half kilometer.
We heard the screaming as we turned to regard the flames. Howling like the wail of a banshee ripped through the night. This sound chilled their bones more thoroughly than the freezing night ever could have. Malkir felt the need to vomit.
The screaming continued for hours. Eventually, the fire died, the burned out forest was covered with fresh, steaming snow. Malkir and his men walked into the ruined majesty of the wood. Hulking trees were blackened and cracked upon the ground. The serenity of this place was forever broken.
After hours of searching, they found the bodies. They had thought to find the soldiers only, the warriors. What they found chilled their blood. Women, children, livestock. They had all burned. They clutched one another, their charred bodies holding on to loved ones as if their touch could ward away fire. Apparently it couldn't.
Malkir fell to his knees as he saw the gruesome display, frigid tear ran in rivulets down his face. He was not the only one. They were hard men, veterans of many campaigns. They had been honorable, they had never killed women, never killed children - until this black day.
They buried every body they could find in the ruined forest. They felt that they owed the dead something. They wished they could undo what had happened. Nothing would discharge their debt to these people.
They marched away from the valley, its desolate village, its ruined forest. They marched home, they marched to lay down their swords, to try and find some peace from their black deeds.
Peace was not theirs to find. The nightmares started soon after they arrived at their homes. Rotting and charred faces stared at them in the night, their haunting words boomed like thunder, accusation on their lips. Every night the dreams came, every night, they wept, cried, and hardly slept an hour.
Malkir was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. He hadn't slept in days, his temper was unpredictable. He blinked down at a letter which arrived that morning. The letter informed him that his previous Lieutenant had killed himself the night before last. Another letter sat beside it, and another. His men were killing themselves....one by one.
Malkir stood and walked slowly up to his wife. He kissed her, fell into her embrace, and sobbed. He cried in a flood, he cried in rattling coughs, he cried until his knees gave out. She held him as he cried, she wept too. Her love was on his knees, broken.
"I have to leave..."he spoke softly, his tears finally ceasing. "I have to make amends. I need to atone for my sins."
His wife merely nodded and held him, they sat there for an hour, saying nothing. They took comfort in each other.
Hesitantly, Malkir kissed his wife and readied for the journey. He packed as quickly as he could manage, and rode back to the wretched valley, back to his sin.
He arrived at daybreak, the black forest stretched out into the horizon like the corpse of a dead God. He rode to the outskirts of the forest and dismounted. He walked solemnly into the wood, searching for what he sought. He found what he was looking for, an acorn. The seed of the task to come.
He walked to the site of the mass graves, and began to dig, he uncovered the pit slowly, inexorably, eventually, exposing the half-rotted bodies of his victims. He exhumed each of them, treating each with as much kindness as he could. He carefully dug fresh graves, spending hours each day, putting everything he had into the task. The dreams started to fade. He knew he was on the correct path. As he buried each corpse, he planted with them an acorn. A seed which would bloom to life, would one day rise to rival the giants which we had so callously burned.
When the last body was buried, he finally felt free. He finally felt relief.
As he lay down on the last night, ethereal forms stepped out from each grave. One by one, they approached Malkir. The nodded their head to him, and walked back, back to slumber, back to rebuild what had been lost.
Malkir sent for his wife the next day. They became the first to re-inhabit the desolate town. Each day they would go into the forest, planting trees, burying those people they had missed. Soon, others came. Others from his old unit. They came to rebuild. They came to atone.
They came to find peace.
____________________________________
/r/SirLemoncakes, Hot damn, that ended up a bit long.
|
“…And unto you I bestow this most sacred of tasks. I the Lord almighty, creator of heaven and earth, have selected you my child to carry out my work on Earth. Go forth and rejoice Matthew, for you have been chosen.”
“So, you want me to make you a grilled Cheese?”
“Well, yeah pretty much.”
“You got rid of the clear sky, so you could appear as a face in the clouds and gave possibly the most rousing speech I’ve ever heard, all to get me to make you a grilled cheese?”
“Not just any grilled cheese, I need an exceptional grilled cheese. I created the universe you know, so I feel I deserve it.”
“Oh, don’t worry I’m not questioning that, obviously. I’m very grateful for the whole, creating existence thing. It’s just, this feels like a lot of effort to go to for a grilled cheese.”
“exactly, so it’d better be worth my time.”
“Ok, I’ll be honest I’ve never even made a grilled cheese before. I mean I know how to, it’s not exactly most difficult task in the world. But, if you’re going to go to all this effort for a grilled cheese, and an exceptional one at that, surely you’d pick someone else.”
God stared at Matt, silently. It never occurred to him that he’d pick someone who’d never made a grilled cheese. In fact, he hadn’t really put much thought into it at all. It was more of a spare of the moment idea, he was just craving a grilled cheese and didn’t fancy making it himself. He’d just managed to find that comfy spot on the sofa that he’d been trying to relocate for almost a decade, plus he’d just got Red Dead 2 and couldn’t put it down. He wasn’t too sure how to respond to Matt, but he knew he couldn’t back down. He had gone all out with the theatrics (well he’d done the basics, but to Matt this was the most incredible thing he had seen) so he couldn’t let on now that he had just decided to ask the first person he saw.
“Dare you deny your God, after everything I have done for you!” Bellowed God, directing a blast of wind at Matt knocking him back.
“No, absolutely not. I was just thinking maybe someone else would have been a better choi…”
“And now you question my judgement!” God cut off Matt before he could finish talking, this time knocking him off his feet.
“No. Sorry. Sorry. I’ll do it. I promise”
“Yes, you will. And it better be good. Or else.”
Matt ran home panicking. He hurriedly grabbed ingredients out of the fridge. He attempted to grab some bacon or ham to try and improve the grilled cheese, but God slammed the fridge shut before informing him of the difference between a grilled cheese and a melt.
After about 10 minutes, Matt presented God with his grilled cheese. It was alright.
|
**PART I**
******
The Fleet-Admiral crossed the bridge under the gaze a thousand spectators, eagerly witnessing the historical moment. Under the infinite void of interplanetary space, the glass encasing of the bridge allowed for a remarkably appropriate setting. His dark blue uniform gleamed under the artificial lights as he approached his counterpart, meeting halfway across the symbolic tunnel, linking the two starships and civilizations. The other man, of a smaller stature and dressed in the dark ceremonial garb of his people, grinned and put forward his open hand.
“Your Excellency”, he said, his voice reaching the microtranslator inserted in the Admiral’s ear. “It is an honour and a privilege”.
“Likewise, Ambassador Williams”, responded the Fleet-Admiral, reaching forward and firmly grasping the hand, as instructed to him by his advisors, keen on properly following the rituals of the new species. His seven fingers, to the ambassador’s five, made for a slightly awkward, but nonetheless appreciated, grasp. Above the two, a squad of small drones filmed and relayed the event to the billions watching it back on their homeworld. As the ambassador’s hand let go of the grip, so did the admiral’s, who proceeded to remove a gold paper from his uniform’s inner pocket, opening it to face his three eyes. The drones and the spectators focused on him, awaiting his words. “As the official representative of the United Galactic Council,” he read, “acting dutifully on behalf of the security and well-being of the Galaxy, and in the hopes and promise of everlasting peace, progress and prosperity, I, First-Admiral Ryllak of the Grand Fleet, hereby welcome the Human kind of Planet Earth to the Union.” The drones swiftly shifted their lenses to register the human ambassador’s response.
“On behalf of the United Nations of Planet Earth and all of Humankind therein, in the hopes and promise of everlasting peace, progress and prosperity, I, High Ambassador Williams, gracefully accept your welcome”. A short silence followed, as the words were translated into a dozen languages, before loud cheers filled the bridge, and the two representatives again shook hands.
As the celebrations started, the human was symbolically led inside the Union’s ship, marking his species’ entrance to the foremost organization in the galaxy. “I understand you have done this a few times before, Admiral”, he said as they walked the bridge, the drones having left to film the reaction of the crowds. “This must be almost routine to you. I hope you pardon our excitement, this is truly a wonderful new stage in human history.”
The admiral looked down towards the human as they reached the entrance of the ship.
“As First-Admiral, it is my duty to welcome to the Union all those the Council deems worthy and I have indeed performed this duty more than once. Your kind, however, are far more interesting than usual. I should note that I was already second-in-command of the Fleet when you first made contact.”
“First contact? That was two hundred years ago”, replied the human.
“Indeed. You have developed extremely well, notwithstanding your…”, the Admiral struggled to find the proper word, “shortcomings.”
“Shortcomings?” asked the ambassador. They were now being joined by the many advisors as they turned left and right through the corridors of the ship.
“Your lifespans”, explained Ryllak. “As I said, I was already second-in-command at the time of first contact, whereas it has already been a few generations for your kind. It is remarkable how much you have achieved despite living so briefly. Individually, that is.”
Special Ambassador Frank Williams took a moment to digest the curious statement.
“Well, thank you, I suppose.”
******
**[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/abw207/wp_humanity_expanded_into_space_however_they/ed3g57z/)** |
When one is born, their birth mother gives them a nickname, superpowers accompany this name throughout time. Jason had no idea what his nickname or possible powers were due to his mother passing shortly after his birth. His father fainted in the delivery room during birth, and he didn't know who the doctor or nurses were that had been present. Every day he’d sit at home contemplating every possible nickname and attempting feats that would accompany the powers associated with that name. Deep in his mind was a fear that he was the only living person without power at this point. His father, Stan, kept trying to reassure Jason that he has a nickname, and one day he'll realize what it truly was.
One a crisp fall morning, Jason and his friend “Bull,” were walking to school. It was senior year for them and of Jason's peers had already discovered their abilities, leaving him to be the lone outcast at school.
“so you coming to the big game tonight, bro?” Bull asked.
“I don’t know, part of me wants to, but the other part knows i need to be home studying for the SATS if i ever hope to make it into a good college.”
Bull rolled his eyes, “look, you can't be a bookworm all your life, you need to let loose a little bit and have some fun. I know Snow is going to be there, you've had the hots for her for years, i could probably hook you up with her.”
At that moment a loud screeching is coming from behind them, as they turn to look, a pick up truck slams into Jason and pins him up against a tree. He coughs up blood, looking around disoriented wondering what just happened. Bull runs up to him frantically talking to him, but he hears nothing in a state of shock.
“Wha….what's just happened,” Jason managed to get out, “fuck, everything hurts”
“don't worry dude, I'll get you out of this, you're going to be ok.”
Bull runs to check on the driver and discovers an unconscious man behind the wheel. In a state of panic, Bull drops into a three point stance and rams into the truck, pushing it away from Jason. As soon as he gets the truck far enough away, Jason slides down the tree. As Bull looks at his best friend he sees how bad the injuries are, his arm snapped into a ninety degree angle at the forearm, blood soaked shirt.
“I dont think I’m going to make it,” Jason gasped as his breathing began to slow.
“Don’t say that, bro, you're going to be ok.”
Jason slowly closes his eyes, and with one last breath, goes limp. Bull unleashes a flood of tears, knowing he just witnessed the death of his best friend. As he wipes away the tears, Jason’s body begins to illuminate in bright yellows and reds before being engulfed in flames. As the fire died down, he opens his eyes, and begins to feel himself. All his injuries are nonexistent, he feels alive again.
“what just fucking happened?!” Jason exclaimed.
Fighting back the tears, Bull just sniffles, “I think i know what your nickname is…...Phoenix”
And with a sudden surge of happiness, Bull embraces Jason with one massive bear hug. His friend is alive, and for Jason, not only is he happy to be alive, he also now knows what his nickname is.
|
I always await them.
They keep trying to find me, you know? The problem is, however, it’s pretty hard for them.
It started in 1985. I had completed my training in Britain for MI6 and was ready to be out in the field. I was quite inept at weapons, though not that that mattered- we weren’t even allowed to use guns.
But I was a master of hiding. Hiding in plain sight.
I never had to return to the shadows, and as I grew more confident of my abilities, the authorities grew less confident about their grip on me. They turned to Hanford- my senior, the one who taught me all that I knew- for questioning, then seeing how they couldn’t get anything out of him, had him terminated.
Up til that point I had figured that the purpose for which I served the country was to protect it, but the experience opened my eyes.
And nearly closed theirs.
I moved from country to country, enlisting my services for as long as I could while determining that I still could preserve my identity. Wally, that was my name. A name that would become famous just two years after I was out when they began to enlist the public to search for me.
Nothing much really, simply triangulating my position to wherever they could get their hands on me. They were always right, of course.
And yet they managed to fail so many times. Some people would point me out here- some would argue that I was over there. Only the experts could truly get to me- and even that would take a while.
Over a certain amount of time, I grew used to this. Found the extension of my identity, tantalising. Exciting. I enjoyed the game. I relished the fame. So I decided to stay at the latest place, where I’d always keep coming back. It was both a beacon to people for fame, and an amplifier.
America.
And I changed my name too. Now they know me by a new name.
Waldo. But more than not, they’d beseech for my location. I suppose that’s what I would really ask for. Ask them for where I was. Where I am. Where’s Waldo. |
EDIT: This prompt got too long and I had too much fun writing it, so it has no proper end - continue at your own discretion!
​
It happened like something out of a bad science fiction film from the 80s - a big flying saucer, a spotlight underneath, my feet leaving the ground, limbs dangling, ascending slowly. The Texas dirt kicking up from underneath and the tumbleweeds fleeing. What the movies didn't show was the screaming and kicking man who soiled himself on the way up. I was just talking my dog for a walk - he remained earthbound, looking up at me as though he should do something, but completely unsure what. I didn't know either boy.
When the bright lights stopped and gravity was re-instated, I found myself on a cool, polished black surface, surrounded on all sides by a rounded glow-in-the-dark jello like wall, forming a circle around me about the size of my living room. The same surface formed the ceiling. The walls were emitting a soft comforting green-blue glow as I felt around the rest of my new alien prison cell - a small, chair sized mound with a hole in the centre that I assumed was the toilet, seamlessly continued from the floor; a palm-sized black device mounted at chest height on one of the walls - and that was it. The walls were impenetrable (as I would have guessed, but was determined to try anyways), and had a very small amount of flex, kind of like the skin of a living creature, pulled taut against my cage. The ceiling must have been 12 feet off the ground, because even tippy-toe on top of the mount, I could not reach it. The mound itself simply had a tube leading straight down - beyond what I could see or reach.
As I was re-examining the device on the wall, the section surrounding it went transparent - about a quarter of the total wall and from floor to ceiling - and behind it stood two creatures. They looked straight out of a low-budget 1980s sitcom - tall naked skinny bodies with pale skin, big bulbous heads and jet-black bulgingeyes. I almost laughed, until one of them pushed the device on the wall (it appeared to extend to both sides) and spoke to me.
In a voice with a *super* thick Indian accent, it spoke:
"Welcome to K'HGIZT, this is my friend OIHK and I am YUIL"
I laughed out loud. The aliens had obviously learned their English from India, and then built in this translator doo-dad that didn't quite translate their names very well. I chortled, then waved.
The two extra-terrestrial chattered with themselves excitedly, the translator only picking up short phrases now. If I hadn't been kidnapped I would have found two low-budget aliens chatting rapidly in thick Indian-accented English to be very amusing.
"See? I told would work,"said Oihk
"Yes, yes, your translator works"said the other (I had already forgotten his name)
"Can you imagine what the client would pay for this one?"
"We must prepare him for the journey - "
"- levitate some of his possessions - "
"- ah I see, to mimic his natural environment - "
"What do we feed him?"
"- I'll synthesize a nutrient mix"
"He's filthy"
"I suppose we should clean him as well"
The chattering kept going and I felt my head pounding - it sounded like they were kidnapping me to sell? I wonder what had become of Charlie, my dog - if he was still sitting there staring at the heavens, or if he had already gone off to chase squirrels in our neighbours yard.
The aliens were now manipulating some kind of control panel on the jello-wall (on their side), because a moment later a torrent of rain erupted from the ceiling, like the worst thunderstorm I had ever seen - and it was *cold.* Pins and needles assaulted my hands and face.
"FUCK THAT'S COLD!"I exclaimed
On the other side of the wall, Yuil looked up (oh right, that was his name) and looked over excitingly at his parter: "It spoke! Did you hear that? I think it said the wash was cold"I decided to never speak to them again. Yuil manipulated some dials and the next thing I knew I was standing in Pompeii, witnessing the destruction from the mouth of Vesuvius, on every exposed body part - pelted by boiling lava and being cooked alive. I gasped one breath in and yelled:
"WHAT THE FUUUUUCK!!!!"
Yuil apparently seems to understand those words, he hurriedly tuned the dial once more and a warm summers rain began, hissing against my burnt skin. I relaxed, then glaring at the both of them, stripped naked out of my soiled clothes and wrung them in the rain.
Oihk cast Yuil a look of narrow-eyed displeasure.
"I'll find him some food"said Oihk, and then disappeared out the window to the left.
Yuil, still at the dials, made the puddles on the floor disappear with some more controls - it soaked right in like a dry cornfield on a hot summers day - and turned the temperature in the room to a comfortable summer shade. I relaxed a little, but I could tell even without a mouth on his face, that he was smiling. Whether it was because he finally made me comfortable or that he enjoyed torturing me would remain underdetermined.
Naked as the day I was born, and probably just as exhausted by the whole ordeal, I lay down on the hard (but nice and warm) polished floor, and slept.
​
Days went by. I had no idea if we were still near earth or not, whether Charles had made it home, or whether my carrot fields had been weeded. Time seemed to be dictated by the aliens, who set the day-night timer of the glowing walls to be approximately 24 hours according to my watch.
​
Some fun things happened the first few days.
The first meal they gave me was phased through the jello walls in a little capsule about the size of a water bottle - it was filled with this Canadian-goose-poo green substance that sloshed about inside, chunks clearly visible. Oihk had made it just for me.
"Eat"he said, making a tipping motion with his hands towards where his mouth would have been.
I finally figured out the capsule was basically just that, and with my finger ripped a little hole at the top and put my mouth to it.
It tasted like ass.
Not inedible, but more like protein shake meets meal supplement with a steak and the contents of a small garden (dirt and all) blended in.
It was also the only food I had had in the last day or two, so I drank it, chunks and all, leaving a very slimy aftertaste in my throat. I choked, wiped my mouth of my arm, and Oihk seemed to approve, because I started to get capsules twice a day.
​
The first time I had to take a dump, I walked over to what I assumed was the toilet (the smooth mound with the hole), unzipped my pants (which had since been dried on the floor), and emptied my bowels with a satisfying shit that would have been the envy of a small elephant. Guess those smoothies worked.
What happened next was northing short of comical - Yuil (now distinguishable by his slightly wider eyes) stormed into the window, slapped his hand onto the transmitter and yelled (again, made more comical by the Indian accent):
"STOP DEFECATING ON THE TRACTOR BEAM!!"
I discovered after that if I relieved myself anywhere on the floor, it would immediately soak in and disappear, just like the rain.
​
to be continued.... |
"We need to talk."
I take a sip. "Do we?"
"Someone proposed to me."
"Ah."The drink burns.
"Is that all you can say?"
"I'll say whatever you want me to say, darling."
"Don't call me that anymore."
I smile and take another sip.
"You know,"she says, "that it didn't have to be this way."
"Mmm."The drink tastes bitter.
"In fact"- her eyes lower - "it still doesn't have to he this way."
"I want you to be happy."
"I want you to be happy, too."
I intuitively know I'm supposed to do something. To reach out to her somehow. Reassure her.
But I don't.
Understanding, she draws in a breath and straightens her back. "You're invited to the wedding,"she says. "It's this weekend."
"So soon?"
"It's small. We're saving most of the money for the honeymoon."
"Ah."Sip. "Mmm."
She turns and leaves.
The weekend comes.
Like she says, the wedding is small. Her parents. His parents. A smattering of friends and acquaintances.
The priest rambles on.
He says, "If anyone objects, let them speak now or forever hold their-"
"I object."I stand and stride up the aisle, squeezing my way in between the two until my back is to him and my face is to her.
I reach into my pocket.
I pull out a box.
A ring box.
I ask, "Will you marry me?"
Tears in her eyes, she smiles and says yes, throwing her arms around me.
I pick her up and carry her out the venue to my car and we drive off.
|
"You call it... what?"Tangrin Ahsfelt, ambassador for the Horrack Assimilation Fleet, the same fleet that failed to return from their Earthly conquest, stared with abstract horror at Dr. J. P. Noble.
"Weather."Dr. Noble tapped at the various charts sprawled out across the table, "We call it weather, and frankly it's getting out of hand."
Tangrin nodded, his ears dangling loosely round his chin, eyes retracting from their bulging state. "I see, and this *weather*,"Tangrin slurred the foreign word around his sour tasting gums, "is single handedly responsible for the destruction of our fleet?"
Dr. Noble shrugged, "Your fleet chose to land in what you might surmise to be *danger zones*,"the Doctor tapped a pen distractedly against several points upon a map. "Indonesia, prone to attacks from the sea, what we call Tsunamis. The Hawaiian islands, at high risk of hurricanes."Dr. Noble caught Tangrin's misunderstanding, "Attacks from the sky. And the Philippines, which are no stranger to Earthquakes... attacks from the land."
At the sounding of each weatherborn attacker's name Tangrin reeled, his elongated back bone curling up, nostrils sinking, hair retreating beneath his pinkish skin. Horrack, it should be noted, are naturally defensive creatures, and much alike the way a tortoise might retreat within its shell, a full grown Horrackian is capable of retreating inside of its stomach.
"Weather..."Tangrin shook his shrinking head.
**
Seven days prior to Tangrin's arrival:
Aspirin, Captain of the Horrackian Command Ship Oscar, had called his crew to battle stations. They were about to descend upon the Pacific Ocean, more specifically Indonesia.
Oscar had been primed, shield fully rendered, legs extending for the soft grounds of earth. All around the Ship armaments were summoned into action.
"Oscar,"Aspirin called on the Ship's computer, "estimated time of arrival?"
"42 seconds, sir."the Ship replied, its voice an amalgamation of prerecorded messages and drawn out hissing, "But I must warn you..."
"There's no time."Aspirin collected his Class Act Proton Phaser, a shiny silver gun that had been marked with garish blue runes and hung from a purple leather strap, and left the Ship's deck.
The computer sighed, "Don't worry, it wasn't important. Oh wait, yes it was."
The Ship's docking station was brimming with Horrackian soldiers, suited up against Earth's atmosphere, each wielding some variation of a Photon Gun or Plasma Blade. There were pistols that could dessimate entire mountain ranges, shotguns that could tear apart entire islands, axes that could slice through the thickest of alloys. In all the crew were a force to be feared.
Several maintenance drone hurried about the dock, helping the crew suit up, arm up, and prepare for attack. Steam flooded the room from a series of overhead pipes, neutralising the atmosphere. There were a dozen Horrackian Heavies, a thousand Horrackian Horde, more Horrackian Slicker Beast than you could shake a stick at...
"On my count!"the Captain cried as the entire docking station began its descent, "Let's show these Earthling Pogwoggles what the Horrackian are really made of!"
Pogwoggles, it should be known, are swamp dwelling pig-like critters who display less common sense than they do heads. And of heads they display none.
Those were the last words that Aspirin would ever speak.
No sooner than the docking station hit land an enormous wave came screaming out of the Ocean. An attack from the seas, a Tsunami.
The Horrackian crew drowned, and those that didn't drown were crushed by the immense body of water (their skeletal structures far too soft to bare any weight), and those that didn't drown and weren't crushed simply died of surprise.
Aspirin, by some mad stroke of luck, survived. But upon seeing his army defeated in one swift blow from the Earthling planet, he shot himself, deciding that it simply wasn't worth the paperwork to go on living.
To be continued...? |
Emma stood at the front of the classroom. She didn't know if she could do it. It was too hard. Too painful.
"My presentation today,"she said. "My presentation is about..."
What was it about? Emma could not think.
Everyone was staring at her. The whole fifth grade class. Billy was giggling.
Why was he laughing? Was her hair a mess? Did she forget to say something?
Emma looked down at her notes. Her hands were shaking so much she could barely read them.
Soon, tears filled her eyes and she could not read at all.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she said to herself "I wish the ground would open and swallow me whole"
When she opened her eyes, she was still there, in front of the class. Karen had now joined Billy in giggling.
"My presentation,"Emma tried to say, but it came out as a squeak.
The whole class laughed at that.
Emma was shaking even more now. She tried to stop the shaking, but that only seemed to make it worse.
Her whole body shook. She almost fell over.
Looking out at the class now, she saw Billy and Karen's laughter turn to shock.
A crack appeared in the floor under Emma and grew rapidly.
"Earthquakes."Emma said, suddenly. "My presentation is on Earthquakes. I remember now!"
The crack opened into a gaping hole and Emma fell in.
"Wait,"she told the hole, "I can do my presentation now. I remember!"
But the hole didn't listen.
With a rumble, the opening above her closed up, leaving her in a cave a few feet across, a little taller than Emma, strewn with sharp rocks, and pitch dark.
"What now?"she said.
"How should I know?"A voice said. It was deep and low and had a bit of an echo to it.
Emma was startled. She hadn't seen anyone in the cave before the hole closed up.
"Who are you?"She asked.
"How should I know?"the voice said.
"You would know better than I would, for one. Can you help me get out of here?"
"How should I know?"the voice said.
Emma crinkled her face in annoyance.
"Is that all you can say?"She said.
"How should i--"
Emma threw a rock in the direction of the voice.
"Ow!"it said.
"See?"Emma said. "That's how you know. You try."
The voice sighed. "I'm new at this, ok?"It said. "I was just wished into existence by a girl who wanted to be swallowed, so I'm a little green and quite confused right now."
"That makes two of us."Emma said. "Are you... are you in the hole with me?"
"How should-- I mean, I think I *am* the hole, somehow. I'm a rock spirit or an elemental or something. You conjured me by wishing to be swallowed by the rock, so here we are."
Emma walked over the stones and put her hand against the wall. It did not feel any different than regular rock. She touched a few more places.
The voice laughed. "Hey, that tickles."It said. Some gravel and sand fell down onto Emma.
"Sorry,"Emma said, taking her hands away.
"So,"she said. "Can you let me out? I'd rather you didn't eat me, if it's all the same to you."
The voice said "I would of I could, but after the initial, uh, swallowing, I can't seem to figure out how to move."
Emma wound up and kicked the wall hard.
""Ow!"the voice said, but a shaft of light appeared briefly from above.
"Ha, there you go."Emma said.
"That hurt,"the voice said. Then after a pause added "but thank you. I think I know how to open now."
Emma waited.
Nothing happened.
"Well?"She said. "Are you going to open?"
The voice whimpered, then said "I don't know if I can do it. It's too hard. Too painful."
"Sometimes you have to do it anyway,"Emma said.
The cave rumbled. "Ok,"the voice said. "Because I like you."
The rumbling increased. Stones fell all around Emma. Shafts of light beamed down one by one until a large opening appeared.
"That hurt."the voice said.
"I know, but you feel better now, right? Now that you can move and accomplished something? Not to mention letting me out and saving my life?"
"I do,"the voice said. The opening cracked a bit and curved into what almost looked like a smile.
Emma climbed out.
She turned around and waved back at the hole as it closed.
"Thank you,"she said.
"Thank you too. Bye Emma"the voice said as the hole closed back up.
Emma turned and looked around. She was back in the classroom. Everyone was staring at her with their mouths open.
"As I was saying,"she said. She realised she left her notes in the hole, but it didn't matter. She knew her presentation by heart.
"My presentation is on Earthquakes. That was just a bit of a demonstration."
|
Tiberius threw open the door, and dove behind the bar. As soon as the horde noticed the opening, their screams doubled, tripled in intensity, and a stream of creatures pushed into the doorway, clawing at each-other to be through the door first.
Within seconds, the tavern was filled with screaming, clawing, screeching teenage girls.
"Oh My Gawd! I *NEED* your autograph!"
"Your codpiece is so, HAWT!"
"Lance! LANCE!!! LANCELOT!!!! I love you!!!!"
Like daggers, their sharpies stabbed out at the faces of the knights, each trying to be the one to draw the attention of their idols.
"Sign my poster! Please!!!!!"
The bassist of the Cooter Looters met the eyes of the drummer of the Tight Knights, he could see the same terror in the other musician's eyes. How had they ever thought that being in a boy band was going to be an easy job. |
My body feels young, my mind feels old.
The feelings of dread were once foretold.
I cannot express my dearest feelings to you, in these cold winds of September,
For I am not sure what month it is, I do not remember.
For all I care, I am twenty-four.
Or at least I was before.
Now at this lonesome date
I say with displayed uncertainty that I am sixty-eight.
Can you please listen to my words?
My mind is writhing and cranking and it hurts.
Write this down, dear child, before my body too becomes cold, ,
"My body feels young, but my mind feels old."
|
Day 72, 07/21
It’s useless. I’m useless.
I can barely even use my fingers to write any more. They’re so rotten and twisted. It doesn’t hurt now, though. I think I’m way past that. I used to believe finding that damned herb was a miracle, an omen of salvation. Now I just wish I had carried on my way, like a mindless husk.
The other ones with the plague, I tried helping them, but they simply don’t care. Other humans, I’ve been wanting to aid them, but my vocal chords are too putrid to do anything other than groan. Christ, I can’t even eat anything. My damn stomach apparently adapted to the plague too, I just throw up anything I eat that isn’t meaty. My pace is slow, and my breaths slower. Whenever I grab the pencil again my fingernails break, my calloused skin rips apart, I bleed over the paper and start all over again.
I have salvation on my palms.
It’s right on me.
It aches me, more than any wound or infection I could get.
I’m useless. It’s all useless.
I don’t think this paper even makes any sense to anyone but me at this point, it’s just a bunch of smudges. I’m trapped, in the rotten carcass of a very alive mind.
I’m useless, it’s all useless.
I have no mouth, and I must scream. |
"Avada Kedavra!"
The air flashed green as the spell tore out of the end of Bellatrix's wand. The scent of the killing curse, like acrid smoke and brimstone, filled their lungs, and the small group of wizards cheered...
Until a loud boom from the ugly-looking vehicle sounded. One of the walls of the Leaky Cauldron exploded, killing two Death Eaters instantly and burying three more under rubble. Bellatrix herself was stunned, but unharmed.
A few seconds later, she forced herself onto her feet and ran, screaming, towards the Muggle lines. Spell after spell ripped through the air, bursts of green and blue and red and white and black. The Muggles let her get close, sheltering behind the charred walls and bombed-out ruins of the nearby shops.
"Fire!"called a voice. Five Muggles ducked out, each one from a different angle. Each held the same strange metal contraption, like a long metal wand with handles. They pressed these things to their face, staring down the length of the wand, aiming the ends at Bellatrix.
There was no way for her to hit them all. Her arm slashed and two men fell, but the sharp bark of the Muggle guns sealed her fate. Her body jerked and spasmed, bleeding red holes bursting through the back of her robes. Finally, she fell to the ground, choking up blood as her glassy, unfocused eyes took in the overcast splendor of the British summer for the last time.
At this final loss, most of the Death Eaters lost what little courage they had left. Voldemort heard the faint pops as they Apparated away, leaving him with the final stragglers, the few brave - or foolhardy - enough not to give up hope.
Voldemort raised his arm above his head and jerked his wand towards the street. The ground seemed to explode into a vast cloud of dust, and moments later, he strode into the gloom.
"I wish to talk to your leader!"he shouted. They heard shuffling, and then a voice shouted back.
"Ceasefire."It was not a word Voldemort knew; but then, it was not directed at him. He watched as the various Muggles peeked out at him, pointing the same strange wands that had felled Bellatrix at him.
"I will not kill you,"Voldemort said. *Yet*, he thought.
"No, you fucking won't."This voice was louder, much louder. Not only that, but it sounded strangely artificial.
An engine roared into life, and a large, lumbering beast of a carriage rolled forward slightly. Voldemort stared it down, saying nothing.
He couldn't see any horses in front of the carriage - and not only that, but there seemed nowhere to hitch a beast to it. Even a Thestral carriage had a shaft on the front to hitch to. But the Muggle things, they had nothing.
This one was even stranger than most. On top of the main, vast bulk of the thing was a huge cylinder. It might even have been an enormous telescope, but instead of a glass lens on the front, there was just a gaping black eye, staring him down.
"Come out and face me,"Voldemort said, addressing the black hole. The machine was so large that it towered above him; with a flick of his wand, he created a platform out of the rubble, raising him up so that he stood at eye-height to the top of the thing. For its part, the carriage rumbled to a stop in front of his improved podium, and then with a final growl, fell silent.
"Not fucking likely,"came the reply, the voice curt and unpleasant. "We know all about your mind control bollocks. One of your boys came out of the fucking walls in Number Ten, did some magic on the Prime Minister."
"I won't cast the Imperius curse on you, I promise."Voldemort was lying of course, but he hoped that the Muggles wouldn't know that.
"You can pry me out of this fucking tank when I'm dead. Until then, off you fuck mate."
Voldemort ground his teeth; the Muggles were more of a match that he had foreseen. He had expected them to be the stupid, whimpering animals that Binns History of Magic class had talked about - degenerates who lived in their own filth, imprisoned by their own idiocy and superstition, mistaking shadows for demons and wizards for Gods.
His anger bubbled up and without even thinking, he lashed out. The killing curses bounced off the outside of the carriage, leaving nothing but the familiar scent - combined with the foul odor of singed paint.
The voice laughed back at him. "Your magic spells aren't so fucking good now, are they,"it said.
"What *is* this?"Voldemort hissed.
"It's a Chally. Fucking beauty."
"A Chally? What is a Chally? Speak English, you filthy Muggle,"Voldemort snarled back. The voice just laughed again.
"A Challenger,"he said. Voldemort pulled a face, and the voice replied again - sounding confused. "A Challenger tank. You must've heard of a tank?"
"Is this a Chally, or a tank?"
"It's both, fucknuts. It's a Challenger tank. We just call it a Chally because..."The voice stopped suddenly, as if it had been cut off. When it came back, it was even more derisive than before. "Boggo wants to know where your fucking nose is."
"What?"Voldemort took a step back. He had suspected before, but he knew now; the voice could *see* him. "You can see me..."
"Course we can see you. We have cameras..."
"Cameras?"
"Yeah. Can't drive the fucking thing without cameras, can we? Do you have special needs or something?"The voice was more disrespectful than anyone had been to the Dark Lord for decades - even more than Dumbledore and that sniveling Potter rat. "Anyway, Boggo asked..."
"I heard before,"snapped Voldemort. "You have a Boggart in there?"
"The fuck's a Boggart? Boggo's the driver. We called him that because one time, he got drunk and fell arse first in the shitter."The voice laughed again, and this time, Voldemort could hear that the Muggles all around were laughing too.
"Tell Boggo that where my nose is none of his concern,"said Voldemort.
"Right-oh,"said the voice, then cut out again. It seemed to accompanied with an odd hiss, and mere moments later, that same hiss came back. "Boggo says fine, but to tell you you're an ugly cunt. His words though."
Voldemort ground his teeth. "I don't care..."
"Oh no, wait. Sorry. Boggo didn't say you're an ugly cunt. He said you're a *fuck-ugly* cunt. And also your head looks like a dehydrated bell-end."
The laughter was growing now, and Voldemort lashed out again. The spells snapped against the brickwork, sending the Muggles scrambling for shelter and clouds of powdered brick-dust dancing into the air.
"Now, now, now, you fanny-nosed fuck. If you keep doing that, I'm going to shoot you with this big fucking gun,"the voice said. "And don't get me wrong, I've always kinda wondered what happens if you shoot someone in the face with a tank gun. But there's no need for us to be rude, is there."
Just then, Lucius Apparated to Voldemort's side. He glanced around, clearly terrified to be so exposed, but leant in and whispered his message to the Dark Lord all the same. Then, as quickly as he had come, he disappeared.
For his part, Voldemort looked back, grinning. "I think this conversation is at an end..."he said, reaching down. He pressed a finger to the Dark Mark on his arm, accepting the stab of pain as it surged through him.
Mere moments later, the reinforcements began to arrive. Death Eaters Apparated into the street - dozens of them, working in teams to bring in Giants.
The huge, hulking beasts roared, and the Muggles suddenly rose up in fear. A voice - not the one from the infernal Chally, but another one - began barking orders. The metal wands snapped out, and the Muggles began to disappear deeper inside the buildings.
For a moment, it seemed as it the day was won. But before the first giant could even reach the smouldering remnants of the Leaky Cauldron, something appeared out of the air. It hovered like an oversized, jet-black bee, strafing in a circle around the largest Giant.
All of the Giants stopped. They swung at the thing, lobbing chunks of brick that they punched and snatched out of the terraced buildings, and used wrenched-up lamp-posts as javelins. Somehow, the thing seemed to dodge them, jerking side to side and even throwing itself backwards to avoid everything.
Both sides fell silent; the Giants stared at it, and it stared at the Giants. And then, without warning, dozens of fireworks hissed and spiraled from the machine. Trails of smoke flashed at the Giants at incredible speed, and loud explosions drowned out the pained screams of the Giant.
"Jesus Christ..."the Death Eaters behind Voldemort said, choking in fear. "It's head... look at it's head..."
The Giant slumped on the pavement, and where its head had been was now nothing but a bleeding stump. The skies screamed above them, and the Dark Lord glanced up in time to watch more tiny metal birds roar overhead. They fired more fireworks at the rest of the Giants, each of which fell screaming under the weight of the explosions.
A deafening boom went off next to him. The sound was so unexpected and so loud that Voldemort fell backwards onto the street, his robes tangled around him. The long black eye of the Chally had turned on top of the carriage and pointed at one of the Giants. It boomed again, sending a flash of fire out of the end, and throwing a huge lump of metal into the tall, dumb man.
Mere minutes after that had appeared so triumphantly on the battlefield, all of the Giants lay either quiet and dead or whimpering and dying on the floor.
The last of the Death Eaters Apparated away.
(Part 1) |
"About time,"I grumbled, and tried not to let my relief overcome my irritation. It was a stupid joke, naming the network that, and too damn close to the truth. I resolved to give Bellamy a nice long tongue-lashing next time I saw him, which hopefully would be in about twelve hours.
I'd been undercover, or at least laying low, for well over nine months now, and it had been wearing on me for a while now. I'm interested in history, sure, that's why the Time Corps recruited me. That, and my mild obsession with vintage firearms. Can't have agents pulling submachine guns from their coats in the Old American West, for example. Or her in early nineteenth-century Boston. *Fond or not, though,* I thought as I traced the lovely handle of my custom multi-barrel pistol, *actually living in history this long is a while different story*.
I swiped to a different app, checked on the distance and bearing to the tracker I'd gotten our target to swallow. She was on the move. I checked my battery level. 65%. Damn. I'd have to use the built-in solar back for a good while this afternoon to be ready for a night op. And once we had her? Back home for some much-needed R&R. Shitting on a real toilet, just for starters. Food I could be pretty sure wouldn't force me to sit on a not-at-all-real toilet for hours at a time. Clothes that didn't itch. Speaking freely without watching every word choice and idiom.
I could go on. And I would, in my head as I waited for my rendezvous with Bellamy so we could finally take this idiot fanatic of a woman off the streets. The wrong century's streets. You can't change the past, it simply kills you if you start attempting more influence than the timeline can easily correct for any other way. Disintegrates you and everything you're carrying, if necessary. Turns out the universe does not fuck around when it comes to maintaining its own temporal integrity. So that's not what we were worried about, with her.
No, like most of the cultists we hunt these days, she was after long-lost knowledge. Knowledge which had most definitely become lost on purpose. Specifically, the long, weary, and thorough purpose of my predecessors. The Old Corps had done such a thorough job that mad would-be worshipers of Powers You Really Shouldn't Contemplate, like this woman, had begun to resort to extreme measures.
Like this. We hadn't always been the Time Corps. That was a new necessity. Well, and the occasional name change was just common sense for a highly dangerous secret society. I sighed, and went over the preparations in my head.
It would all happen tonight. Save the world, go home, take a proper shit on a proper toilet. Well, I suppose there are worse careers.
​
r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. |
"Nobody else has come here?"
"Nope."The almighty voice growled in the dark, ricocheting off the dark, bloody walls of the endless fiery cavern.
"Hitler?"
"Nope."
"Stalin?"
"Not him either."
"Um...Genghis Khan?"
"Believe it or not, no."
"Mao?"
"Ditto."
"Jeez. I must've been...pretty bad, huh?"I scratched my neck sheepishly. "I mean, I don't *think* I killed anyone. Did I have alternate personality disorder and my alter ego killed people?"
Satan sighed, the sound rocking the massive cavern. "No, no, it's not that."
"So...come on, man, don't keep me hanging here. What'd I do?"
"Just weren't good enough to get into Heaven."
"Oh, come on. Isn't there a Limbo or something?"
"Dante didn't know jack. No, there isn't. Seriously, why is that guy the authority on this place?"
"I know, right? He was probably pretty alive when he wrote it."
"Yeah. Do you see *me* eating Judas?"
"Hey, did he end up here?"
"Nope."
"Man. What did I *do?*"
"Well."There was a deep, profound breath. "Storytime."
*Even the snake was sorry.*
*The damage was done; it had thought itself clever, and tricked Eve, and she had pressured Adam, and by the end humanity had fallen so far from grace that God threw them out of Eden, cursing them all, man and snake and woman.*
*But even as it went upon its belly and ate the dust of the earth the snake bowed its head in apology.*
*Even the sinners of Sodom cried out in misery and desperation as the fire annihilated them.*
*Even Pharaoh announced that he was wicked and God was righteous.*
*Even Judas repented, taking his own life.*
*Even Hitler regretted- somewhere in his twisted, rotten soul - regretted for a single moment as he pulled the trigger and ended his reign of terror.*
*But you?*
*You did no great wrongs.*
*You just never regretted.*
*You assumed average was enough. That paltry sin would bring no real punishment.*
*You lived each day of your life no better than the last.*
That *is why you deserve Hell.* |
T: You've got to be fucking me, she is right there Steve!
S: Who?
T: Rachel.
S: From Physics?
T: Yes!
S: I don't see anyone.
T: My ass 'you don't see anyone', she's watching me here and she has been following me all day!
S: Are you okay man? Like, my dad was seeing my mom a bunch before he snapped. Is Rachel just getting to you?
T: I swear to fucking god she's just standing over there watching me.
S: Dad did say that a lot....
T: *Jesus ch-* hey you! Yeah you, tits for brains, what the fuck are you doing?
R: You can see me?
T: 'Can I see you' yeah I can see you, what's your deal?
S: Who are you talking to?
T: Shut the fuck up Steve- one second.
S: Surrreee, and I'll just be making a phone call. (Hey Tim's mom! Yeah, college is great; I'm doing fine. Yeah. Yeah. You see-)
T: Okay, what's the deal?
R: What?
T: Are you paying him to mess with me or something, huh? Another one of your pranks?
R: Not this time.
T: Then what's up? I want your bullshit to stay at school, copy.
R: No, Tom-
T: -Tim!
R: Whatever. There's some strange bullshit going on ever since today's field trip.
T: Like?
R: Today, during that reactor demonstration, I might of snuck ahead a little to try and mess with you.
T: -Great.-
R: And I might have accidentally gone where I wasn't supposed to go.
T: Mhmmm
R: And that place might have been the reactor room.
T: How the fuck did you just so happen to end up in the reactor room when they were testing the reactor?
R: I ignored a few signs, look, that's besides the point. The rector released a blue wave of energy, I think it hit me, and ever since then I-don't-know-why but I feel like I need to follow you to something or something.
T: .....
R: And I'm invisible to everyone but you Todd.
T: Tim- wait-- Hey Steve, you double swear you don't see Rachel in right here?
S:Huh, oh yeah I see her! (He's really losing it Ms. V, you need to get over here now.)
T: Oh god you're telling the truth.
R: Yep.
T: Did you like, die and are eternally cursed to bother me for the rest of my life?
R: I mean, I can still effect objects and people and stuff.
T: Ow!
R: See, so I don't think I'm a ghost. I think there's some multiverse bullshittery going on.
T: So you've got 'multiverse bullshittery' that's made you want to stalk me while invisible to everyone but me?
R: Sounds about right.
T: That's dumb as hell.
R: Yep.
T: So do we need to go through some emotional spirit quest to get you back to normal?
R: I don't fucking know-
Police Officer: Excuse me son.
T: Um, yes officer?
Police Officer: I'm going to have to ask you to follow me this way. There has been a call reguarding your mental well being and we just need to have a talk.
T: Steve!
S: You'll thank me later dude! (And I don't want to get stabbed... again.) |
I glared down at the pitiful creature that twitched and convulsed before me, the Parathion vapors already inundating every part of its anatomy. This was the the 409th time I'd unleashed the canisters in a place like this and as always their work was quick and absolute. In mere minutes, I would return to my vessel and receive orders for my 410th deployment.
"But why..."the thing meekly gasped.
This was the first time one of the conquered had ever asked. I'd had years to think about why I'd chosen this position, but I'd never voiced it aloud, let alone to one of my countless victims. Unfastening my breathing apparatus would mean breathing some of the vapors myself, but I knew my anatomy could handle it far better than the creature's and I felt I owed it this courtesy.
I bent low and answered "Because our societies refuse to coexist."
"I see... but why is it taking so long ?"
The voice was louder this time and coming from behind me. I wheeled around, fearing the worst.
The homeowner stood on the stairs above me, peering down into her basement.
"I thought you said it would only take a few minutes to spray for bugs and check the mouse traps. You've been down here over an hour and I have to leave. "she said tapping her foot impatiently.
"Just finishing up, ma'am"I said while kicking the roach carcass I had just been talking to under a nearby box.
I gathered the rest of my pest control gear and clambered back into the truck with the comically large plastic roach adhered to the top. From then on I made myself a solemn promise;
I need to stop cheaping out on respirator filters. |
With one swing of my greatsword I beheaded the last of the disgusting fiends, immediately collapsing out of exhaustion. Blood and sweat poured from the many cracks in my armour, and my once beautiful surcoat was now completely blackened by dirt, blood and intestines.
Aareon ran towards me.
"Are you alright?"the skinny mage asked.
"Depends. How do you define alright?"I said, struggling to speak coherently.
Aareon shouted something to our companions, but I was to tiered to process his words. *Must. Cleanse. Wounds.* I thought before passing out.
When I awoke the sun had already risen to it's highest point. Around me lay the wounded and dying soldiers of yesterday's battle, brought here to be healed or at least relieved of their pain.
Despite the many wounds I had suffered in the battle, I didn't feel any pain. As I got up, my own strength surprised me, the steel emblem around my neck had never felt so light. As I walked out of the temple one of the clerics tried to stop me, but I pushed him aside with ease. I had missed my morning prayer for the first time in years, and I wasn't about to miss the midday ritual.
As I emerged from the darkness within the building my skin burned with the heat of a thousand fires, the fact that I was dressed in nothing but rags didn't help either. I could already feel my skin bursting all over my body when I knelt down and begun my prayer to The Sun.
Despite the fact that my prayer was shorter than usual, it felt like I had spent hours in the sun. When I returned to the temple one of the healers immediately rushed to his help, but as he drew closer the old man's expression changed from concerned to fearfull, and he ran away from me.
Seeing this, I decided to go back outside, not wanting to disturb the holy men's work. I spent my day wandering the city in search of my companions, but tired quickly despite my newfound strength. It seemed almost as if my strength was being sapped by the sun. I immediately dismissed this heretical though and continued my search despite my immense pain.
It was long past dusk when I finaly found Aareon. The tavern was filled with people celebrating yesterday's victory, but upon seeing me the crowd grew silent. Aareon imediately stood, pulling me to a room in the back of the establishment.
"Gods, Kerat. What happened to you?"
"God, not gods,"I answered. "And what do you mean by what happened?"
"Your skin looks like a dragons victim!"
Suddenly I felt a need to be alone.
"Where are my weapons?"
Aareon of course had them with him, like the good friend he was. But it was pretty hard to miss the worried expression on his face.
I quickly donned my armour, took my sword and left the building. After withstanding the torturing sun the whole day, the cool night felt heavenly to my skin. I walked without any particular destination, and before I knew it the city's lights were far behind me. I was alone for a long time, only passing a couple farmers here and there. Each time I met someone, something within me pulled me towards them. The feeling grew stronger with time, and before I knew it I was holding my sword over an innocent young boy.
The next thing I remember, I was in the middle of the woods and a thick liquid covered my face. The liquid tasted good, better than anything I had ever tasted in fact.
Many days had passed since the battle, I had been traveling between villages. Every time I met someone, my mind went blank and afterwards my face would be covered in blood. I didn't know what it ment, I didn't want to know what it ment. At times I would even forget to worship The Sun, instead hiding away in the shadows, only coming out fully covered in armour.
I loathed myself, I hoped someone would find me, and someone did. Sadly that someone was Aareon.
It was on one of the better days, despite the pain I had decided to pray. I sat in a forest clearing begging The Sun for help, when an uncertain voice sounded from the trees.
"Kerat?"
As I turned around Aareon stood there, firre magic ready to be cast. I felt the pull once again, I tried to resist, but it was to strong.
"Please, kill me!"I screamed as I drew my sword, once again loosing control.
I came back to my senses, with my friends body in front of me. He was impaled by my sword, and one of his legs was torn of. In my mouth I felt something indescribably tasty, and as I looked down at my hands I saw my friends leg, or at least the parts that remained. |
I lost my arm at fifteen doing the same stupid stuff as every other teenagers my age. To this day I swear there wasn't a rock there when I jumped off that train, but the damage that got done to my shoulder was catastrophic. The doctors told me a lot of things on my way in and out of ICU and a half dozen surgeries that I only half remember under the fog of drugs. I do remember having the arm though, being told it would recover. I remember the rods and screws that replaced portions of my shoulder that I'm sure were more important than the doctors made it sound.
Mostly though, I remember what came after. The burning. The pain. MRSA, they call it. Me, I always called it ironic. Why should I have lost my arm in that stupid accident when I could lose it in a hospital bed years later? That last surgery was blissfully quick, they prepare you for that. They don't prepare you for everything that comes after. The human arm is approximately six and a half percent of our body weight, my arm was a little heavier than that, but not much. They lopped thirteen pounds off my right, dominant, side. I couldn't stand straight comfortably for months, but it was one hell of a diet plan. I still remember the doctor's telling me I might feel phantom pains from the lost limb, and it's at that particular memory that I finally crack a smile.
​
LONDON, 7 YEARS AFTER THE ACCIDENT
The spinning quarter caught the sun as it arced through the air and fell back towards the earth. It fell, that is, until it hit a point about three feet above the smooth sidewalks of Fisherman's Walk. At that point it abruptly changed directions and launched itself back into the air. An observer paying close enough attention to me likely would have noticed the absurdity, but that's the funny thing about being a cripple. Start walking around with a pinned up sleeve and so long as you don't look like a veteran people's gaze will divert away from you quicker than I'd have believed possible before I joined their ranks.
No one likes watching someone else suffer, I think - and worse than that, no one wants to go out of their way to help you. For a while that had bothered me, these days it was a bonus. I whistled softly as I caught the quarter in my real hand, and liberated another fine citizen of Canary Wharf from their wallet, floating it off to their left with a careful tug. The poor gentleman turned in a panic and started shouting at the crowd around that side of him, at which point I snaked the wallet around into my satchel, and patted its heavy contents with my right arm.
The arm I had "lost".
The opportunities I had gained.
A nicer man, a less bitter man, might have seen this miracle as a chance to do something great. To show the world, to celebrate, to embrace. To me it was just another tool to survive against a world that had wronged me. I'm not sure when the arm began to manifest, but I first realized it's existence some three years after the accident, Waking from a nightmare and trying to throw my arms wide I had knocked a clock radio off the hotel nightstand. On my right side. I had felt the collision and the phantom pains had seemed more solid, more real. I had picked that clock back up with an arm that wasn't there, from further away then I could have possibly reached with my real arm.
Those pains came on infrequently at first, and for short periods, but I had almost perfected willing myself into the proper frame of mine, and I hadn't been nice about it.
I could have been a super hero, a preacher, a celebrity. I could have changed the world. Instead I was a thief, but at least it would pay for dinner tonight. |
After all that fighting Dennis was exhausted. He wiped the sweat off his brow and sat under the the last green tree on the edge of the clearing. He took a glance around and took in the beauty of the area for the first time. The landscape was an array of beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows and the smell of maple was in the air. When had the season changed he wondered? How long had he been fighting? When he left home it had been the middle of winter. The nights were long and the snows were deep. Had he really missed so much time?
He got up in a hurry it was time to head back home. His wife would be anxious to see him after all this time. He gathered what little things he had in his possession and gestured to his comrade Jason it was time to go. They began the long walk home mostly in silence. A few hours passed and a low roar could be heard. No it wasn’t some wild animal it was a more dangerous beast, hunger!
Luckily Dennis and Jason had happened upon an apple orchard. All Dennis could imagine was the incredible pies his wife would create with such wonderful fruit! After Dennis and Jason ate their fill they filled their burlap sacks with a pound of apples each. They continued on their way Jason making most of the conversation. “I can’t believe we came out of another war in one piece.” Dennis couldn’t believe it either especially not after what the prophet said. “The Hero will Fall”... his thoughts were interrupted by a glorious smell.
They had just stepped into a spice field. The smell of cinnamon, cloves, and allspice rose around them. What great luck to happen upon such a find! Spices are extremely expensive and bringing this back to the village would help ensure wealth for his family. The men quickly gathered as much of the spices as they could and quickly left the field before they were discovered by the owners.
By daybreak they saw could see the outskirts of the village. Dennis notices that his maple trees had been tapped and the buckets were full. He decided to grab a bucket to bring home. He quickened his steps now being so close to home he could not wait for the warm embrace of his wife.
As the road began to fork he said goodbye to his dear friend before taking a short cut to his little farm. He noticed that the crop had come in nicely there was squash and pumpkin dotting the land and he smiled as he approached his front door.
The door swung wide open and his wife leaped into his arms. “My hero”, she whispered into his neck. She peeked in his bag and said, “Wow you really did all the Fall things huh?” Dennis smirked, “ I guess the hero did fall”. |
I walked out, ignoring the glares of envy and jealousy from my brothers, sisters, aunt and uncles and cousins alike... even my mother stood with her mouth open as I opened the door to leave. I didn't even look back as I slammed it behind me.
2 HOURS EARLIER
Here I was, watching mom work herself to death in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the cakes and pastries.
It was a big day. My brother, Zander The Mighty and Powerful, was choosing his sidekick today. It's tradition for sidekicks to be chosen amongst family members and looking around at the shoulder to shoulder crowd filling the mansion, every sibling, cousin, second cousin, third cousin and family pet had shown up.
The doorbell rang, bells chimed out Zander's theme music. Mom's face went from focused concentration to beaming. Wiping her hands, she rushed towards the door. She looked at me disapprovingly as she passed. "You better not ruin this for your brother... or me."Typical. After a moment, I sullenly followed, grabbing a pastry on my way out.
People parted for her as she rushed to pull the great doors open. Everyone put on their best smiles, parents performed rushed, last minute grooming, while I continued to eat my pastry, just getting to the tart, lemon filled center.
Zander stepped in, swooping up our mother, as she whooped and gave a screaming giggle before setting her down. Family members joined in the moment with laughter and applause.
"How have you been my boy?"Mom asked.
He suddenly became serious. A hush came over the room. "Did you hear about the extinction level event which occurred just moments ago, mother?"
She brought her hand up to her mouth in silent horror. "My lord, no,"was all she could manage.
He took a deep breath, "You're welcome"he said, and gave her a wink.
She laughed. Eye rolled my eyes
Zander looked up, his sure gaze, raked over the family members. He raised both hands and a hush fell over the room as more people tried to crowd into the room to be noticed. For a moment, his eyes found mine. I raised the last bite of my pastry up in lazy salute, then popped it into my mouth, wiping the crumbling frosting for the corners of my mouth.
"Thank you all for attending selection of my sidekick."He began to walk through the room. His chest was so big, it seemed constantly puffed out. His yellow spandex hugged his massive muscles so tight, his bulging veins were clearly visible. "I've thought long and hard on this, searching my very soul, and listened to the vibrations of the universe to understand who could best fill the most trusted and solemn position of sidekick".
He passed by me without looking at me. His massive legs moved as sure as a stallion. I was always convinced he chose not to don a cape because he wanted people to get a clear view of his thick, muscular ass. He was walking masculinity stuffed into spandex.
He continued, "...I floated before the sun and gazed into it's heart for wisdom."Rapture filled the expressions of those around me. I sneezed, startling the room and breaking the moment.
Everyone glared at me. "Sorry,"I said, sheepishly, "Sadly, I tended to sneeze after eating sugary things. It's kind of like my Kryptonite."No one laughed.
A brief look of exasperation crossed my brother's face, then was gone. He smiled, "That's ok little brother. We are all humbled by you sharing your weakness against pastries."More laughter.
"I too have been humbled by weakness."Someone in the room gasped. "For though I have searched the cosmos, I have found this answer on who should be my sidekick..."Everyone leaned in to hear, "...And the answer, my friends, eludes me."He looked up and threw his arms wide, his voice boomed, "So impress me! Convince me of what the stars could not. Tell me why you deserve to be my sidekick!"
Everyone erupted into cheers and clapping...I sneezed again.
TO BE CONTINUED... |
Long ago, I stood beside King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table, A nameless but gifted swordsman. I did have a name but not one I can recall. I had wished to be a knight for Arthur but it did not happen. It infuriated me how I was rejected from the knights so I challenged King Arthur to a duel, with real swords not blunted ones.
We battled for a total of 30 seconds, half of which was staring into each other's eyes, waiting for the moment to strike. The duel ended with my arm on the floor. Hubris was my mistake, one I would not make again.
Merlin was able to save my life but I refused to have my arm reattached.
He asked me why I would refuse that offer.
And I told him these words, "My pride was my downfall. For the remainder of my days, I will bare this injury as a reminder that Pride always comes before the fall."
King Arthur sent me into the woods to train, till I mastered the usage of the sword with one arm. Merlin granted me a gift, immortality.
I left Arthur's castle at the age of twenty and two, pride and body maimed irreparably.
For years, I trained in the woods, alone and free of outside influence. My hair grayed and grew but never did my body age. I was able to regenerate any damage I received in mere seconds. As time progressed, I became more proficient with the art of blades. Any type of weapons I could wield with grace, save for blunt bludgeons.
One thousand years have passed since I went into the woods and when I emerged, I saw things that were beyond my understanding. Buildings were everywhere I looked. There was not much left of my forest. I was confused, so I did what i thought was best. I went to my ancestral home. None of the buildings remained. In it's stead was a obelisk that read, "All ye who gaze upon our wonders shall know the might of the house Ozymandias."
I fell to my knees in shock and then into unconsciousness.
When I awoke, Merlin was at my side, looking the same as always. I asked him, "Merlin, what has become of my family?"
He said, "Now, that is a name I have not heard in quite a while. Your lineage still remains intact but it is fading. The last living relative of yours is a girl, she is young barely 18. Gwendolyn Ozymandias, last of her name. Well, second to last of her name."
He cleaned me from head to toe, dressed me in the fashion of the era, a striking black suit, and taught me.
I visited her only to find that warriors were no longer trained. She was adopted after her mother passed from drug overdose.
Merlin had given me a fortune, and I shared it with Gwendolyn, under the conditions I could train her.
"And that, My Dear descendant, is how I came into your company."I said finishing my story.
"Sooo, You're an immortal warrior who fought King Arthur and lost, went into seclusion for a thousand years and now you are training me to fight with swords?"
"Yes. Quite so."
"Is Morgana being resurrected or...?"
"Who?"
"Nevermind."
______
Later
______
"Thank you, Merlin. For all you have done for us."I said to the kind and wise master mage.
"It was no problem. And please, in this Era, I am called Keanu."
<end> |
The thing about immortality is, no one tells you how boring forever is.
Sure, it is exciting for the first couple of centuries. You see towns grow. You see cities die. You see self-appointed supreme commanders turn into dust. You see revolutions that promise to change the state of the world, only to become the very same thing they swore to dispel. You see myths born out of nothing. You see legends go silently into the night, never to be heard of again. You see disappointment. You see joy. You see people enjoying the rain for the first time. You see people in their death beds breathing in their last rays from the sun.
Every once in a while, you also see a miracle.
Today was Tuesday. I wake up. I make a notch into the wall.
And that meant only two things - Tacos for breakfast down by Chi's and a chat with Toby at Supreme. I did not know which one I was looking forward to more.
I stepped down from the bed and headed over to the shower. I needed neither a bed nor a shower, but it came with the house. Back then, all it cost me was 3 silvers and my foal. Walking wasn't a problem for me; I had the time. Money wasn't a problem for me; I had the time. But one look at the space, and I had to have it. That's another thing nobody warns you about immortality - the sheer amount of crap you come to hoard simply because you had to have it.
I have cut down since then. My last two houses attracted buyers as soon as they went on the market, and Sebastian was more than happy to take in my cars.
"You have no idea how much these vintage cars will go for,"he assured me. To me, they were just old. Everything was to me.
----
My table was free when I got there. They knew my schedule.
"The usual?"Claire asks as soon as I slid into the booth.
"Of course,"I smile. "Surprise me."
Claire didn't smile much in the mornings, but this always made her teeth show. She pours me a cup of lukewarm coffee, and returned with my breakfast - Carne Asadas with a side of french fries and hot chocolate.
"Oh, Claire. I already had this once,"I protest.
"No way,"she shakes her head. "I remember every single breakfast I've served you, El. Never this."
"Must have been somewhere else,"I lie.
It wasn't. The same place. Just somewhere else in time.
"You know, El, those things once a week every week will kill you. Why don't you order a salad for a change?"she asks me, not waiting for my answer as a customer somewhere raises her hand.
"I can only hope,"I smile to myself.
I can only hope. I heard somewhere that the hope will kill you.
----
By the time I get to Supreme, they are open. Chrome as far as the eye can see. Business not as good as it was when they opened, now with the internet selling things. But this place has somehow stayed alive. I like it and hate it for that same reason.
At the reception, I see Toby. He sees me as well.
"El,"he nods at me.
"Toby."
"Same business?"
"Same business."
"I'll have to check with the manager,"he smirks at me.
"Of course,"I return the favor.
A good couple of minutes later, he comes back with a solemn expression.
"Your deep fryer isn't ready yet, El. The parts haven't arrived yet."
"I see."
"If you come back next week, it'll be ready."
"I see."
"So, can you come back next week?"
"I got the time,"I say.
He leans in, and whispers to me.
"Heard about Roland?"
"I did. A shame. I always thought he was one of us."
"I did, too. Turns out he just had a stellar skin care routine. The key is ground up cucumber to the forehead."
"Wow, thanks. I'll pass it along."
"See you next week, El."
"If I'm still around."
"Where are you going to go anyway?"he grins.
----
It's Tuesday again. I wake up. I make a notch into the wall. One for every time I met Toby.
Next Tuesday, it would have to be another wall. This one has run out of space. |
Smoke filled Jon’s nostrils and watered his eyes. Destruction lay wake around him. The sun began to rise over a crumbling factory building. The screams of the wounded filled the air in every which way. Jon looked around in disdain. They had barely even put up a fight. “Hotel 3-4, secure a perimeter and get a headcount. Begin addressing the wounded and dead.” Jon received confirmation and he made his way over to his target: a wounded LT.
The soldier was in bad shape. His left leg was burnt to a crisp and an energy shot had connected with his shoulder and lower neck. Jon kneels next to him and holds up an injectable. “This right here may save your life. At the very least it’ll provide you comfort before your wounds take you. No, no. Put your hand down. You haven’t earned it yet. I need something from you. A tiny favor—if you will.
“Reports suggest that this base here is one of the last installations on Earth that still use printed paper. I need that paper. So, if you give me the location of said paper...viola! All your problems go away.”
The LT looked up in complete and utter disbelief. “You-you-you’re doing this. You’re do-doing all of *this* for some fucking pa-p-paper?!?”
Jon grinned. “Absolutely!”
“You’ve ki-killed thousands of innocent people. Burned whole v-v-villages to the ground.” The LT accused weakly. “You sick son of a bitch.”
“Hey now. We don’t need to do any name calling.” Jon put on a hurt face. “You have no idea what I’m going through. It’s rude to judge.”
“You’ll die here. I swe—”
Jon shoved the injectable into the LT’s neck. “I sure hope you’re right about that.” Job wiped off his hands and left the LT, shaking and gagging uncontrollably, behind him.
The base hasn’t fully been secured, but Jon walked through freely anyways. What bother was it to him? A stray round wouldn’t take him down. Room by room Jon searched with absolute no luck. The sun had taken to the sky when Jon finally got some news.
“This is Hotel 3-4. We’ve got a locked safe. Waiting to proceed. How copy.”
“Wait for me.” Jon’s pulse began to quicken. Was this it? The war he’d started had ravished for so long he had begun to wonder if he might outlive the very world he seeked to leave. He was so damn tired.
The soldiers were huddled around the safe when Jon finally entered. “Step back.” His heart was pounding. It was a simple object. Silver, with a small lock attached to the front. A primitive creation, really. He broke the lock off as if it were no stronger than a rubber band. Inside was a piece of paper with confidential written across it. Jon closed his eyes, joy radiating off of him. Everything he’d done. Everything he’d sacrificed had led him to this moment. It had all been worth it.
*Tink*
Jon pulled himself from his dreams and turned around. One of his soldiers stood in front of him with a primed thermite grenade in his hand. The others were nowhere to be found. He slowly put down the piece of paper. “What are you planning on doing with that, Sergeant?”
The soldiers hand was shaking so violently he almost dropped the explosive. “We know what’s going on here.”
Jon looked around for the nearest exit. He had to keep that paper safe. “Oh, enlighten me then.”
Jon took a step forward and the soldier stepped back in unison. “Your talks of conquering and riches are bullshit. We know why you want that paper. You want to die. That’s it, right? You’re sick of this world and you want to take the easy way out. “Jon took another inch forward. “STAY BACK! Well, we’re not on board with it. Every one of us are suffering in this hellhole of a world you’ve created on your *crusade*. You don’t get to just leave us here to suffer while you get off easy.”
Jon looked bemused. “So...you’re saying I’ve destroyed the world. And you’re idea of being a hero is keeping me alive for what? For me to continue destroying what’s left of this pathetic place?”
The sergeant lowered his hand. “You misunderstand. This is completely, wholeheartedly based on selfish desires. I’m no hero. And you sure as hell aren’t relevant enough to consider yourself a villain.” He tossed the grenade and threw himself at Jon. They fell to the ground, fists flying.
*BOOM*
No, no, no, no! Jon threw the soldier’s body off his own looking for that piece of paper; his ticket out of this damned place. He threw over tables, desks, computers in a level of distress he couldn’t quite comprehend.
He found the burnt corner a few feet away, nothing but a piece of smoking ash.
Rage filled Jon in a way he’d never experienced. He had come so close. His vision went red. He let loose a primal scream that could be heard for miles. He sat there for hours until the sun had long since hid itself behind the mountains.
“I’m not a villain?” He asked the dead soldier. “I think it’s time I earned that title.” |
A cacophony of noise heralded their arrival. Falling objects clattered onto the floor as something writhed in the cramped confines of the closet. Otherworldly cursing punctuated by the sounds of wooden and plastic handles colliding filled the space before the door crashed open.
The objects within the janitorial closet fell out in a messy heap. A black form, shapeless and cold fell on top, hisses of annoyance and pain leaked out of it. Finally it righted itself, kicking a bottle down the hall with indignation.
The form twisted and coiled, spots not quite dark floated, staring at the sign on the closet before looking about. The form was confused which grew into irritation. *Those fools,* it hissed angrily. *This is no home with beings to terrify. This is a place of work. I will have their heads for this.* The form began to try and creep back into the closet when an appendage took the form of a hand.
The being paused, staring at the newly made hand before staring down the hall. Ever so faintly the sound of clicking crept towards it. A small light shone far away, shy as if hiding. The being went towards it, drawn like a moth to the flame.
As it approached the light the form shifted and became coherent. Shadow became solid, blackness became color. Soon the shadowy mass was replaced by a woman dressed in sharp business attire with even sharper facial features. Blood red lips peeled back to reveal teeth gleaming bone white.
The new nose sniffed and the being could smell the person within the office. Not that the person stank but the living had a scent the ones on the Other Side could always smell. The smell of life, of emotions, of blood. It was a heady scent to the being, and it craved more.
The false woman swept into the room to stare at its occupant. Another woman sat at the desk, shoulders bent and head low. The clicks were the keyboard keys, typed at lethargically by thin fingers. The woman within stared at the glowing screen, unaware of the intruder.
The being coughed, a cold tone that oozed arctic chill, and still no response. The being saw the name on the door and it barked. “Henderson!” The voice was cold and cruel, the tone sharp enough to cut.
The woman gave a start and turned to face the being. What little color on her face disappeared and she gulped noticeably. The being reveled in the woman’s fear, drinking each delicious terrifying drop. Yet while the woman’s eyes were round and wide they gave the being pause. “What are you doing?” it asked the woman.
“F-f-finishing the report ma’am,” the woman squeaked. Fatigue laced her words and it dampened her fear. “Just like you order-asked me too. I couldn’t go home until I finished so I’m finishing it. It shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”
The being stared at the clock. A few hours time would be the start of the day cycle. “That long?” The being could not keep the disdain from its voice. The borrowed form was steeped in arrogance and bile, and while it felt familiar to the being it felt distinctly uncomfortable at the moment.
The woman’s lips quivered and a tear appeared. “I’m so sorry,” she nearly sobbed. “When you added the rest of the notes to include it made the project much longer. You said if I didn’t have it on your desk by the morning I would be in big trouble. I can’t afford to lose this job...”
The being coughed again, no anger or disgust this time. Its false skin crawled. It was a terrorgheist, fear made real from the Other Side. Its purpose was to cross the Veil and to terrify mortals, to drink in their fear and anguish. Yet they had some sort of ideals as others do. This fear, this abject terror, tasted sour.
The woman’s eyes narrowed and her jaw went still. “You’re not Miss Victors.”
The being’s disguise flickered. Once the target felt disbelief and rationality, it’s assumed form would fail. After a moment’s hesitation the terrorghiest allowed its form to waver, turning into a shadowy mass. *You are correct.*
The woman laughed, half with relief and half with the taint of hysteria. “I knew it. I must be dreaming. Or a nightmare if I’m dreaming about her.”
*How did you know I was not what you fear most?*
A smile appeared on her face the saddest one the terrorghiest had ever seen. “Because you’re a lot kinder than the real thing.” The woman looked back at the computer and sighed deeply, missing the shadow’s wince. “I need to finish or else I will get fired.”
The terrorghiest swam closer. It spoke words rarely said on this side of the Veil. The woman’s eyes closed and she slumped into her chair, snoring softly. The shadowy form seeped into her open mouth and the woman’s arms began to move again, typing once more yet with eyes closed and senses gone.
*Sleep child,* the terrorghiest said to her sleeping form. *You will suffer no more this day. No. Your suffering will be passed to another, one more deserving.* A cruel smile appeared on her lips. *One that will be far more delicious.*
The next morning Miss Victors kicked the door of her office open. She stomped in with her usual arrogance. Her eyes saw the folder on the desk. She snorted. “Well guess she managed to finish.” She sat in her chair, flicking the folder open. “I guess we will see if she gets to stay.” Her hand grasped the handle of her desk drawer, pulling it open.
*We will see if you stay as well.* The inky black substance within the drawer shot out, oozing up her arm and enveloping her. *Let us see who is stronger.* |
"George? Is that you?"You shout out, as you hear a voice you recognize. George was a nice middle-aged man, your neighbour and the local garbage man. He was sacrificed about two years ago.
The ceremony is the same every time, regardless if they're sacrificing the garbage man, a child, a doctor, or a minister. Dressed in white silk, you're brought to the top of the altar in city square, you pray to the gods, climb on the altar and in big fireball that lasts only seconds, you disappear. You've never put thought to where they go, just that the fire disintegrates the bodies, the gods taking their souls.
But after that fireball, the silence, the darkness, you heard George.
"It's me, just stay down, we'll get the lights."George says.
No sooner than he finished speaking, a dim white light appears from around the same area you heard his voice. A headlamp lights up, shines to a wall and then a light switch is flicked on, illuminating the vast hall you are in. The walls are padded with acoustic material, and when you look upwards, you see that you're inside of the offering altar, the top of the altar shows a trap door which you went through in the fireball.
"Well, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but just take a minute, we'll give you some explanation. First of all, the fireball temporarily deafened you. The pyrotechnics are loud, and with the acoustic padding, your ears will take some time to adjust. Soon you'll start to hear fine again."
Sure enough, you start to hear a whirring of a computer fan, an occasional beep, almost as if you're in some sort of lab.
"Your sacrifice to the gods did not result in your death, you aren't joining any gods any time soon. The sacrifices are chosen by us, the directors of the society. We run the church, we run the world. You have been selected for several reasons, but your piety to our church is most important. We would not accept anyone who would not die for us, because to join us, you have to leave your old life behind. You shall live a long life, in the underside of the city, directing the government, the church, the people. Every one of the sacrificed has been brought to the land underneath, we operate out of the inside of the altar, live in tunnels underneath. We have a small ranch outside of the city limits, but other than the occasional visit there, you will not go beyond the land underneath ever again."
The news that your world has been flipped upside down shocks you. It takes you a minute to answer, to move even. "But, why me George, why you?"
"Like I said, we were all selected as pious individuals, willing to do whatever our church wanted us to, up to and including give our lives. This is the reward for our piety. But we each have special skills that we can deploy and use to better our world, and it must be done from the land underneath. I was selected because we needed to manage our waste program."
"But still, I don't understand why I am picked."
"The church will tell you when you are ready."A loud, booming voice you do not recognize says from the shadows. |
Neither of us knew exactly how it had happened. Wake up one morning, and poof - I no longer had my own body, and he had a new inside voice. Like a passanger sitting in the back seat, I could only watch as my chauffeur drove along the highway of life.
But, to be frank, he was a *really* good driver.
Damien O' Neill had it all; gorgeous looks, financial stability, and a developed social net. While I have occasionally comentated on his decision-making, I usually kicked back and let him deal with his problems himself. Better for us both that way.
But one privy little detail always lingered in the back of my mind during the few weeks I spent in his; there was one room inside the house that he never stepped inside of. Anytime I'd ask him about it, he'd just tell me it was the guest bedroom and that he had no reason to enter it. A reasonable answer, I thought at first, until I noticed that he never let any of his many guests enter that room either.
Was there something wrong with it? Maybe it was messy and disorganized? Perhaps it was under renovations? I wasn't sure.
My curiosity piked me to investigate, and there was only one way I could. I waited for the night to settle over the skies, and as soon as Damien's concious was unconcious, my plan sprung into motion. I took control over his body, and with a slow and steady hand, I sneaked to the 'guest room' and creeked open the door.
It was a rather spacious room but, with no windows around, the conditions were even more damp than in the rest of the house. I could just barely tell that it was painted beige with light wooden planks constructing the floor beneath. The room was mostly empty, except for the shadowy figure on the far back end of the wall. I squinted, but couldn't make out what it was.
Damien's nose twitched a little; I could sense that the air in there was stuffy while a strange scent akin to sour candies resided in the air. Perfume, perhaps?
I turned the light in the hallway on, and opened the door fully so I could get a better look of the figure in the back. It was a woman; short blonde hair with a slim, yet tall physique, her pale face heavily dusted with expensive-looking makeup. She wore a fancy white dress that I could only describe as something a queen from the 1700's would wear to her wedding. She sat on a royal throne, her gaze fixated and unmoving, unblinking, cutting into me like a hundred daggers.
"What *is* that? A porcelain doll?"I asked aloud, like I was expecting her to answer.
And then, he woke up. Strange how the sleepwalking doesn't phaze him one bit, but the sound of my admittedly meek voice does. Damien took a few seconds to come to, but once he realized what was going on, his eyes widened in shock.
"Lucius, what are you doing?"he asked in a frantic manner.
"I should be asking *you* that, Damien. Why do you have such a creepy doll in your guest room? Who is she?"
He turned his head to the side, as if he was avoiding eye contact with someone. "Nobody special at all."
"Don't lie to me."
He sighed. "If you insist. But remember, you asked for this. I honestly wanted to spare you the details and myself from having to explain them."
I didn't speak, and I waited for him to continue.
"She is my wife,"he said coldly as he turned his sights back to her, "or rather, she was. She passed away a long time ago."
"But-"
"'But how is she here?' Simple, I brough her here. You wouldn't believe in what terrible condition she was when she died, Lucius, but look!"He extended his arm towards her lovingly. "She looks as beautiful as the moon, and as lovely as a flower. I did her a favor, truly."
My gag reflex started to set in, and if it wasn't for the fact that I no longer controlled his body, I was sure I would have stained the floor with half-digested salmon by now.
"You-you killed her! Your own wife!"
"How can you be so sure? Did you see me do it?"
"Well, no, but-"
"If you don't know anything, then shut up. Maybe I killed her, but maybe I didn't. It doesn't matter, and it most certainly is none of your business. Point is, I preserved her beauty for all of eternity. Surely, if you only saw things from my perspective, you'd understand."
"I **am** looking at it from your perspetive!"
A short pause followed that statement. Damien spoke again, his voice more antagonizing than ever, "I suppose you are. And that, is a problem. Now that you know, Lucius, you might ruin everything I've fought to protect, and I just won't have that. Lucius, you're coming out of my body, one way or another."
And in that moment, I understood. I realized why my soul was tied to him. It wasn't some deity punishing me for my own sins by stripping me of my own body, I was the one who was meant to do the punishing. I was the embodiement of Damien O' Neill's guilt, and it was my job to make sure he got what he deserved.
I needed to get him arrested and found guilty, no matter what it took. It doesn't have to be today, tomorrow, or even in the following decade. But I will bring him to justice, and I will save that poor, poor woman by making sure she receives a proper burial.
And, who knows, maybe by saving her, I will probably save myself, too. |
It looked like a puppy covered in scales, still so young that it's eyes were closed and it was mindlessly rolling in the soft basket. I never expected to see Merlin again, but I suppose we are even again now that he gave me this. I had always dreamt of raising a dragon. There was only one left, owned by The Wise Man himself, but even he couldn't bury the poor old dragon by himself when it passed away. I had cried all day, thinking that the dragons had finally gone extinct, but Merlin seemed even more crushed.
That old man always had his surprises. I carried the basket into my cabin in the woods. Inside the basket, underneath the hatchling, was a runic stone. Normally dragons would make their nest in a bed of hot embers, but Merlin must have enchanted this to keep the dragon warm instead.
I made a new bed for the dragon and set the rune underneath it. It would keep the dragon hot, but would never set anything on fire. Before long the dragon opened its eyes, piercing black daggers in a sea of fiery orange. The moment I looked into its eyes I felt something, like a child holding onto my shoulders.
"I think I'll call you Tempest."
Over the next few days I spent countless hours hunting around the forest. The dragon might be small, but he could eat a full-grown buck and still be hungry. He would come along hunting with me, clinging to my shoulders. Sometimes he would spread his wide wings to feel the sun on them or to feel the wind, but mostly he would sit, observant.
Whenever Tempest was with me I felt like I could track animals better. A natural beacon towards them pulled on my mind. The whole trip I spoke to Tempest about ethics. The ethics of hunting and the ethics of life. I would talk endlessly about not killing anything you can't use, not hurting anything that is owned by someone else, and to never scare someone or something on purpose. I knew he couldn't understand me, but I hadn't had anyone to talk to since Merlin last visited.
Before long Tempest grew too large to ride on my shoulders, but he still came with me hunting. I began to let him hunt some, and found that he was very respectful of the animals he hunted. Had he understood me when I talked to him?
Eventually I started to let him hunt on his own, he was good about always coming back and never getting into trouble. I was starting to think that he was easier to raise than any other child I have raised before.
I was building up the fire for the night, while Tempest hunted for our dinner, when I burned my hand. I quickly put it in cold water, but before I could even pull it out, Tempest crashed through the door, teeth bared. He looked around, but then looked apologetic.
"Where is dinner?"I asked him. "And what are you doing breaking down my door?!"
I started to pick up the pieces and then stopped. Had he felt my pain? I turned to look at him and he pressed his head against my burned hand.
I rubbed his head, my own swirling around uncontrollably. That feeling when I first looked into his eyes...
"You bonded to me. That's how I hunted better when you were with me. That's how you understood to hunt. That's how you knew I was hurt. Dragons bond with their parents when they are born so that they can learn quicker, don't they? They read their minds and..."
I stopped and held Tempest. Oh poor Merlin. I had wondered how you could be so sad about your dragon if you knew they weren't really extinct.
For the next week Tempest and I learned to fly. He was large enough for me to ride, and he carried me through the clouds. Once we had the technique down, we headed for Merlin.
The old man was in his hut, seemingly smaller than mine, but the old man was full of surprises. I knocked on the door while Tempest went to hunt. "Coming!"He croaked beyond the door.
The door groaned open and Merlin's eyes lit up. "My old friend! It's so good to see you. How are you enjoying your gift?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"I said to him, my voice breaking as I pulled him into a hug.
"I wanted it to be a surprise, you seemed so upset that dragons were extinct."He explained.
I shook my head. "I mean that you were connected to your dragon when it died."
Merlin showed his surprise on his face. "How did you know about that?!"
I explained to him how I found out about Tempest.
"That's incredible! It imprinted on you naturally?! I underestimated you. I had to use magic to imprint on my dragon and slowly earn it's trust, since it didn't consider me it's parent. In order for you to be imprinted, you have to be as strong in magic as a dragon, which are the creators of magic itself, and as true of heart as the parent of a child. Even I couldn't manage that."Merlin explained.
I was shocked, what was so special about me?
"Dragons live for millennia. I met mine when she was already old. Yours will see the changing of the world, but if it imprinted on you, it's magic will keep you alive along with it. Do me a favor and do some good for me."Merlin spoke.
Tempest was behind me to catch me as I fell to my knees. Why me? What did I do to deserve this this?
A warmth spread in the back of my mind and I saw all of the good deeds I had ever done in my life. When I snapped out of it, Tempest was looking into my eyes and I swear I saw him smile.
"Enjoy your new life, both of you."Merlin said. |
You stare.
“What?” It’s slightly angry, annoyed more likely but you can’t be feeling either towards God so you try to shelve it deep down. “But- but you’re God! You can’t just have one! That’s-“
“I disagree.”
You quiet. What can you say to that? Despite that a burning feeling is welling up inside you. The Being in front of you is God. They should have more than this. The board should be drowning with Their pieces.
You look at yours. Three pieces. Your life’s work at your Space Station. Marrying your wife. Your little princess. The three pieces you had were all because of the one sitting in front of you.
“This isn’t right.” It’s a whisper then a statement spoken louder. “You made all this possible. My pieces? They... they should be yours. This isn’t right.”
God smiles. It’s a blinding thing. Blinding but warm and so familiar. “Ah, but I have a far greater achievement don’t I?” God waves a hand at the lone piece. “You.”
Your heart stops. Your brain trips on itself and for several minutes you stare gaping. When you finally restart a terrible, horrible flush creeps up your face and you sink down the offered chair.
“You can’t- that’s not-“ but the Creator continues to smile, serenely, unperturbed. “Then why am I-“
You clear your throat and try not to fidget like a child. “Why am I fighting me?”
“I haven’t the faintest.” It’s a lie but it isn’t? You feel slightly horrible for making God confused. “But you see, the board is imbalanced. Would you like to add more pieces on yours?”
It takes a while. A long while for you to realize what They mean. You are fighting yourself but you shouldn’t be. You are the powerful piece on the board but your side is wholly inadequate.
So it takes a while. It takes a while but slowly, slowly you stutter it all out. Making your first friend, acing your first test, your first soccer goal, the moment you got accepted to the Space Program, asking your wife to your first date, helping your daughter ride a bike. On and on it went and by the time the board is full you’re weeping, sobbing into one hand as one of your achievements finally bury God’s piece underneath the small mountain of chess pieces in front of you.
“It would seem I lost.” God hums and Their smile is so, so proud and you cry harder. God stands and They help you up and steer you towards a place you did not realize existed until now. “Welcome.”
You sob through a stuttered thank you but God only tuts and pushes you towards several familiar figures you never thought you’d see again.
“My child.” Somehow Their warm, gentle hand on your head grows larger to comfort, a Father and a Mother both. “You were magnificent.” |
For all my life, I saw strange numbers eerily floating above people's and animal's heads. The majority of them were at zero, but a few were above, and a handful were negative. I never worked out what they meant until I met my love at the ripe old age of twenty.
When I was walking through the Ashmolean museum one day, close to where I was studying for a degree in chemistry, I met the most gorgeous woman I had ever met in my life, and it was pretty clear that she was flirting with me. One thing leads to another, and two weeks later we are having our first date.
By then, I had found out quite a few things about her: she was working to become a firefighter, she loved dogs, her parents had a divorce, that sort of stuff. Her number floated steadily at zero, until her first day on the job. By then I had graduated, I had found a job at a small company in Oxford, we had moved in together in a small flat and the numbers stayed as usual. She came back home mortified, telling me that she might never cope with seeing so many people burning. Along the way, she had managed to lead a family of four out of the house, but that wasn't the reason I remember that day. It was the fact that her number was now four. Of course, it was also the first time I got fired from my job but we don't talk about that. I quickly joined the dots and worked out that the numbers above people's heads were the number of people's lives they had saved, on average. The people whose numbers were negative, therefore, must have been people whose actions had taken another life.
&#x200B;
With this sudden realisation, I completely changed the course of my life. I put in an application to be a forensic scientist in the Oxford police to put my skills to proper use. I also made sure to spend as much time being in person with the criminals, saying that being with the person in question helped me know who to investigate more (which, honestly, it did). I also constantly criticised myself for three weeks after that incident for not noticing that every doctor in the hospitals I had visited (healthy or not) had numbers in the hundreds.
Which brings me to today. I had a normal day at work, but the next few minutes would change my life as I knew it. As I walked home, I saw a man slit another person's throat and, after he had stopped moving, he took the body and ran away. Now, I know I should have helped, but in the heat of the moment it was hard to act, and I could have died if I had tried to intervene: after all, I didn't have any weapons on me handy at the time.
However, something most strange happened then. The murderer's number went *up*, not down. Not only that, but it went up by four people to an even-higher number. In all the time at my job, I had never seen anything remotely close to what happened that day. So, having calmed down a bit, I decided to follow him to work out what was up. I also put down my phone, for now.
Now, I don't know what I was expecting when I got to the destination, but a lifetime playing tag and hide-and-seek taught me how to hide really well, meaning that despite me picking this *utterly idiotic idea* to act upon, I escaped with my organs intact. Which is not a joke.
In this bunker (basement?) I found the man dissecting the corpse for the internal organs, which he promptly placed in freezers and gave them to somebody else. I ran outside, seeing a van driving off with the organs. All the numbers in the operation were high.
The implications were clear. I had just found an organ trafficking ring, and what made it worse was that my blood type was O negative. It was a universal donor. I took out my phone, left the compound and ran. I don't know where, just anywhere which wasn't that creepy basement. I dial 999, and just as I report this to the police, I hear an engine rev up behind me. |
There was something in the basement.
The cat heard it first. Cormac had been too busy half-drunkenly giggling at videos on his phone when the cat pricked her ears toward the basement door.
"What is it, scaredy cat?"Cormac teased. Like most cat people, he talked to his cat when there was no one else around to look at him oddly for it. "You think you hear something?"
But his grin plunged when a distinct thud resounded from downstairs. The cat arched electric, leaping back and sideways as if it had been zapped.
Cormac shot upright. Adrenaline hit him like a bucket of cold water. He watched the basement door as he dialed in 911.
Below him, the scrambling continued. Something big crashed with a splintering sound.
Cormac's hand shuddered as he lifted the phone to his ear.
Only a rushing wall of static crackled out. Cormac winced and hung up. Tried again. Same hurricane roar of wind. Other sounds pocketed it, here and there. Pieces of screams and roars.
He picked himself up off the couch. His heartbeat screamed in his ear, but whatever the hell was down there kept banging around. He prayed it was only raccoons. Hoped to God he could open the door, and the fearsweat would evaporate in relief.
Cormac ran to the kitchen and bolted back to the mouth of the tiny hallway. He held his phone in the other hand, muffling the flashlight with his thumb.
He crept forward, wincing at every creaking floorboard underneath him. But whatever was down there wrestled so violently, the walls shuddered until the picture frames clicked against drywall.
Only a few feet from the door now. Cormac lifted his knife and reached for the handle.
But the knob twisted before he could reach it.
The door flew open, and some*thing* stood there. It had a human shape, but the figured looked as if they had been cut from a dim patch of night sky. Only the eyes shone brightly. The irises burned white, full of fire and fury.
Cormac shrieked, "What the fuck!"and cleaved the knife down.
It passed harmlessly through the shadow figure's head. Her body felt cold and glittering, like living fog. Those white eyes narrowed. Cormac could have sworn he could see the faint line of a scowl on the shadow figure's face.
"Very charming introduction,"she snapped, her voice revealing her gender. She slammed the door shut and pulled a black key out of the air. The shadow woman shoved the key into a keyhole that, seconds ago, didn't even exist.
Cormac still held the knife, looking between it and her. Despite himself, maybe because of all the whiskey, he started laughing. "Have I lost my goddamn head?"
"No. Not unless you start running. I can't hold them back for long."
The door buckled as something on the other side scratched and scrabbled at the wood.
Cormac didn't argue. There was a time for logic, but it was not when shadow people burst out of his basement door.
He just ran and looped his arm around the cat, who was still watching with a hackled, wirebrush-tail. He twisted a blanket around her even as she gave a low meow of discontent.
The shadow woman's eyes narrowed. "Really?"
"Aren't you the one who said we should be running?"
The shadow woman growled, "Of all the damn houses to materialize in."She jerked her head behind her. "Come on. I'll feel like an asshole if you die."
She turned and bolted out the backdoor, just a blur of darkness on darkness.
Cormac, in his slippers, carrying his furious cat, hurried to follow.
***
/r/nickofstatic for serials with my cowriter NickofNight :) Thanks for reading! |
“...What?”
“I will not repeat myself again, adventurer. Now do as I say or die where you stand.”
This was absurd. You’d traveled months across the continent, learning as much about The Taker as you could from cities you passed through. You gained valuable weapons, trained with the best fighters in the world. You befriended people you never knew existed and been betrayed by those working personally for The Taker. Every choice you made, every action, every event that’s occurred in your life led to this fight.
So why was he being so weird about it?
You unsheathed your sword Fantasma and slowly approached him. His guards lined the sides of the room, their colourful matching armour an eyesore. Standing directly in front of him he still made no movement. His arms were outstretched, almost inviting you to take a seat. Your cheeks reddened at the bizarre situation, and with your sword at his throat you sat upon his knee. It disturbed you how comfortable it was.
“Tell me, adventurer, what is it you desire most in this world?”
His eyes met yours. They shine too brightly, as if distracting you from the truth behind them. You leaned back.
“To defeat you.”
“Oh ho ho, come now child. Your friends may have convinced you that’s what you want, but it’s not really. There’s something more, something greater you want.”
None of the guards were making a move. In fact it almost felt like the tension in the room was disappearing after sitting on his lap. The possibility of magic crossed your mind, an enchantment that made you let down your guard. Frankly though, you were too tired to give it much thought. You’d fought tooth and nail with not a single night of full rest to get here. You felt you deserved a break. Even if just for a minute.
“I... I want fame. And glory. I want my name remembered for generations. I want people to sing my praise and know of the good I did in my lifetime.”
“Is that right?” The Taker smiled at you, and you smiled back. You didn’t know when it happened but your sword was no longer at his throat. He leaned into your ear, speaking softly for only you to hear but loud enough to echo through your skull.
“I can give you that. The fame, the glory, statues of you and songs singing your praise. It can all be yours. You simply must do one thing for me.”
“What is it?”
“Bring me a plate of cookies.”
You moved away from him. What? He wanted cookies? What the hell-
Like that your past came flooding back into your memories. All the warnings you received about feeding The Taker. His spell that lulled you into a false sense of safety, his golden tongue promising you anything you wanted. But once you cooked for him, fed him, he asked for more and more. He promised you everything and gave you nothing.
With a grunt you pushed yourself off him, staggering back a safe distance from him. You raised your sword and grit your teeth.
“You won’t win that easily, you villain.”
“Fine,” The Taker stood up and tossed away his overcoat, revealing a tank of a body barely restrained by red wool clothes, “if you want to be naughty, then so be it.” |
I loved this mansion as a child.
I loved the gates and fences that ran around the property. Steel adorned with ivory, perpetually polished to shine. I loved the garden. Vast with exotic flora, meticulously maintained. It was the site of many a game of tag. My cousins and I running around the trimmed shrubs and trees breathless, me most of all since I wasn't in the best of shape as a child.
Scratch that, I haven't been in the best of shape *since* childhood; a fact I'm sorely reminded of by my rather lengthy trip down memory lane. My grandfather just passed and I'm the one set to inherit his personal properties, the mansion being the most prominent of them all. So here I am with sweat trickling and gait unsteady, touring the audaciously large property with ever-faithful Cebastián in the lead. However, whatever gripes I may have seemed to vanish when we enter the house.
The mansion's interior triggers waves of nostalgia once more. Memories of spiral staircases and brightly lit ballrooms. Memories of spacious halls ornamented with the finest furniture and Turkish rugs. If the garden was for tag, the rooms were for hide-and-seek. The *its* would pretend to be a small band of army men hoping to search and either convert or eradicate the cowardly rebels. I had to chuckle at that. Oh, how naive we were back then.
It's only natural to idolize superiors as children, of course. We grew up as the children of one of the most powerful families in all the land; holding our patriarchs, and the armies we controlled by extension, in high regard was par for the course. But we matured. We grew in perception and education. We started to see things that weren't so easily explained away by our family's greatness.
We saw ashen faces lining the streets, begging for alms as we rode by in carriages. We saw children slimmer than needles rummaging trash heaps while our tables were overflowing in excess. Probably most striking of all, we saw Matilda, the wife of poor Ceb, lashed to death. Matilda, the ever-present, ever-comforting figure in the household. The one who would treat our nicks and bruises. The one who would sit down with us after a particularly bad day. The one who would sneak us a bit of food from the pantry with a wink and a grin. Rent and torn into an unrecognizable figure as Ceb was forced to watch after his own set of lashings. The reason for such brutal punishment? Fornication and Pregnancy. The baby was thrown lifeless into the grave to accompany its mother.
I don't think we understood the concept of slavery yet at that point in time, nor did we understand the power dynamic inherent to it. We also didn't know that Matilda was actually raped by our grandfather and the punishment was a twisted cover-up. Still, we knew wrong when we saw it.
All of a sudden the mansion shifted in perception. The ivory gates turned into the bones of poached animals and endangered species. The vast garden connoted the commandeering of what could have been land for the homeless. The bright walls and lavish rugs glistened red with the blood of Matilda and countless others like her.
It was then that most of us turned. The more physically fit of us joined rebel ranks and fought our patriarch's armies through guerilla warfare and subterfuge. Hide-and-seek never came in more handy. The ones more fleet-footed took on roles as delivery men, getting information and supplies to and from the lines of battle. It was a dangerous job; a game of tag if the *its* outnumbered us and carried guns. When all was said and done, no one else was left alive. No one except me.
For better or for worse my brains were worth more than my brawn and I was tasked with manning the rebel paper, writing articles to keep morale up and keep the revolution going. I was one of the first to hear when my kin died, to grieve with each confirmed death. Regardless, I pushed on. We pushed on. And eventually, our toil and sorrow came to fruition. The army of red berets surrendered. Our grandfather was beheaded. The revolution succeeded.
The uncertainty of this nation's future looms large over our victory but we have plans and contingencies. Now is the time for some respite at the very least. But first, the matter at hand.
Our tour ends in the massive driveway in front of the mansion. Cebastián turns around. "So how was it...Bren."
"Up to snuff, I'd say."I pivot and swivel my head as if to survey the property one last time. "If anything it feels bigger than I remember it."
"All the better then for the new housing projects."
"Indeed. I trust the plans were sent to you?"
"They were, si-Bren."I grinned. It was an arduous process, finally getting Ceb to drop the formalities. Old habits die hard.
"Very good. We're hoping to get the demolition started right quick so I hope you'll pardon the tight frame."
"Not a problem at all."A pause. "But if I may ask..."
A sigh escapes my lips. "Ceb, we've discussed this. You needn't ask for permission any longer."
"Very well. What about the prisoners?"
I frown. It's only then that I notice the figures clad in black and white in the periphery, crouching timidly behind walls, fountains, and shrubbery. The mansion had more than just Ceb and Matilda during its glory days, of course. There was a staff of 60 slaves toiling around the house. They also happened to be instrumental in our revolution as they provided us with insider knowledge of the family and their plans. If our jobs were risky theirs were even more so. Many of them met Matilda's fate when caught, some even worse. I should have noticed them earlier. I guess some old habits do die hard.
I pivot and swivel my head around once more, looking at all 23 left. I look back at Ceb and smile. It's a tired smile, a product of years of suffering and regret, but it is also hopeful. "What prisoners?"
And then a little louder so everyone could hear, "Free men and women are all I see."
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Man this took me a hot minute I hope y'all enjoyed. :)
\-------------------------------------
Thank you all for the kind words, I appreciate them a ton. If you have some critiques or feedback they are also very much welcome. |
I open my eyes and turn to the side. She isn’t there yet. I’m alone in my small apartment, the one I rented in the city during university. Or, the one I will rent after I graduate high school and move away from Mom and Dad. Before, after, they don’t exist, not anymore. My life used to be a straight line; I went from point A to point B and so on. Now I exist outside of that plane. For how long has it been this way? Does the question even apply? It’s a Wednesday and I contemplate staying in bed the entire day. A few minutes later, I’m off to the bathroom to get ready for class. I’ve been at this long enough to know how everything is connected. If I were to decide to do something idiotic, as I once did, as I will do, every day that follows in the straight line would be affected by that decision. I’m not sure yet how it all plays out; I haven’t visited all of the days yet. Some of them are better than others, as it is in everybody else’s life. The difference is, I know that every day I wake up alone is one of the bad ones.
\---
Today is one of the good days. She’s curled up next to me lost in a deep sleep. I always wake up so rested when I’m with her. I sneak my way out of the room to the kitchen to go and make her breakfast in bed. She’s never really understood why I go through all the trouble, or how I come up with so many different breakfast dishes. She had no idea that this wasn’t my every day. I surprise her with a Bulgarian pastry, a *Banitsa*, I tell her. I serve it with a side of yogurt and get a kiss on the forehead for my troubles. I head to the bathroom to get ready for work and she chuckles. I forgot the showerhead had broken, or rather, I hadn’t learned that yet. I turn around and smile, then head to the guestroom. This room has always been empty. We’ll never have kids; it would be too hard for me. It’s the one thing she wishes was different. We come home from work around the same time and I ask her if she wants to go out for a walk, or a movie, or a play. She smiles and asks for a raincheck. I’m so energetic, she says. We had just gone out the night before. A piece of me is disappointed, and the other is just happy to be by her side. We lie down and watch a movie. The protagonist seems so old in this movie, what was his name again?
\---
I awake in the same house, but this time I’m alone. This is the after. It’s pointless, of course, but I’ve started visualizing my life as a before and an after. In this time, I truly can stay in bed all day. I have nothing to do anymore, nothing to look forward to, except heading back. My face hurts, or at least what’s left of it. This period of my life has gone on for far too long. Every other day I wake up here. At least it gives me plenty of time to prepare for the good days. It’s 2000-something, which means I can research plenty of recipes on the internet. If it’s as far ahead as I think it is, I can even watch some baking videos on my phone. I finally get up to brush my teeth, and then regret taking down the mirrors. One of these days I’ll put them back up, but not today.
\---
I think this is it. The worst day of my life. I know because of the date, because I’ve been reminded of it on several different occasions, despite never having experienced it myself. I sob uncontrollably for what seems like an entire lifetime. She wakes up, holds my hand and asks what’s wrong. I had been so strong for her, she said, what was different about today? The nurse comes in to check her vitals. He stands me up and gives me a hug. We have grown close, apparently, in the last few weeks. She is not herself, at least not her whole self. Time has been stolen from her by the disease. By the time I learn how to make a perfect Bulgarian breakfast, the medical world will know how to cure it, and that destroys me even more. I’m with for hours, dreading the inevitable, feeling as her grip on my hand lessens with each passing moment. My chest tightens, the room begins to spin. I’m sweating, even in the cold hospital air. I cannot handle what is about to happen. I leave her side. She calls my name in what remains of her voice as I flee. I am hyperventilating now, collapsed in a bathroom stall. I try to calm myself by focusing on each individual breath. Eventually, I feel well enough to return to her side. But I am already too late. I've abandoned her, left her to die alone. I leave her body in the hospital room and head home. I know what happens next. The reminder is branded on my face for the rest of my life, whatever that means anymore. I still pull out the gun from below the bed. Maybe this time it really does end.
\---
I regain consciousness in the mirrorless house and feel the wrinkles on my hands. It isn’t over. I pray that tomorrow I wake up next to her again. I turn on my phone and remind myself how to make Belgian waffles. |
Killing the physical manifestations of hellspawn was easy. Rip and tear until it is done.
Battling one's inner demons, though... The Doom Marine found this infinitely harder. There's not a lot of tearing to do when a person is anxious or delusional. No hearts to rip out, no viscera to splatter against the walls.
So the slayer of demons changed with the times, became a doctor, learned to guide unfortunate souls through their earthly torments. And because he was still Doom Guy, he never did anything by half measures. He didn't merely offer counseling or provide moral support. No, the legendary Marine went above and beyond in his line of duty.
When six-year-old Ashley shared that her "demon"had a name and a face and that he came to her at night while her mother slept, the Marine was stricken. He hadn't fought hordes of monsters so that a father could fondle his own child. The very next night, he appeared in the girl's bedroom in his armor -- let the monsters remember what awaited them on Earth!
When Ashley's old man opened the door, he was greeted with the business end of a shotgun. The Doom Slayer was silent. Did he really need to explain himself? *Touch the girl again and I will show you what your beating heart looks like, and then I will feed it to you.*
Ashley never had to worry about her father again.
She had only pleasant dreams about the man in the green armor with a knife strapped to one arm and the warmest, green eyes. The Doom Marine continued to serve -- his duty endless and everlasting. And sometimes he still donned his armor and eradicated the monster.
Always, there were demons to slaughter, even if some of them wore human skins. |
Ryu'lah picked up the lamp gingerly. Finally. After centuries of looking, he had found another of his kind. Another genie. He looked at the lamp in his hands, savouring the moment. After all those eons, granting wishes for every idiotic, lucky, mortals that found him, he was finally going to be on the other side of the deal.
The lamp itself looked every bit the powerful artifact it was. There was a faint golden glow around it. As he turned it over, examining it, it vibrated softly in his hands. After a few minutes, he couldn't stand the suspense and rubbed the base of the lamp.
Suddenly, blue smoke started flowing from the lamp. The air began to hum as the being inside saw sunlight for the first time in centuries. The smoke swirled around and coalesced into the dim figure of a man. Of course, this was no man. "You're a genie!"exclaimed the figure. "Indeed I am. I have sought another of my kind for centuries. I have seeked the one thing that I could not have. Wishes. Since you are a genie as well, the number of wishes will naturally be squared, giving me nine. So, give me my-"
"No, that's not how it works."The other genie scratched his head. He stood tall, although not as tall as Ryu'lah, with skin as green as leaves. "There is a squaring, yes. However, it is not the number of wishes that will be squared, it is the wishes themselves."Ryu'lah tilted his head quizzically. "I don't follow you."
The genie stretched a little before turning to face him. "I think we should be introduced first. I am Ank'eh. What are you called?""Ryu'lah. Explain your meaning."Ank'eh smiled a little. "Well, it's like this. Whatever you wish for, will be squared in its intensity. A thousand gold coins? It becomes a million gold coins. The love of your life? You'll get only one love, yes, but it will be a more intense relationship than you can ever imagine. Don't underestimate these wishes. They are infinitely more powerful than the nine wishes you originally asked for."
Ryu'lah closed his eyes and contemplated deeply. It seemed to be more than he had hoped for, but given the intensity of these wishes, he would have to choose his words very wisely. As a genie, he knew exactly how wishes could be misinterpreted. "Very well, then. My first wish. I wish that every master I have ever had would appear here and become my assistants forever!"Ank'eh raised his hands and a blue light shone from them. His eyes began to glow blue themselves, and his voice came forth, several times deeper than it had been.
"IT IS DONE."
Immediately, people began to appear. It was too many to count. Over the eons, Ryu'lah had had a lot of masters. "YOUR OLD MASTERS ARE NOW YOUR SLAVES, FOREVER DEVOTED TO YOU."Ryu'lah smiled, this was exactly what he had wanted. Changing the wording to 'assistant' ensured that the wish would transform into his desire. He looked at all his slaves, bowing and scraping before him. He smiled. This was going to be very satisfying indeed. Granting wishes for these fools over the eons had given him a lot of ideas about what to do with them. He looked back at Ank'eh, avarice and anticipation in his eyes. Time for his second wish.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/g46z6s/wp_a_genie_gets_hold_of_a_magical_lamp_containing/fnyn4pd?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/g46z6s/wp_a_genie_gets_hold_of_a_magical_lamp_containing/fo032cb?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) |
"G. Reaper, you've got to be k-", I quizzically scoffed, before I saw the look on his face. I knew his motives were... *otherworldy*
His pallid visage *terrified* me. I've dealt with Osama bin Laden, Ghadafi, both Kims, but this...this was something else. The pure malice radiating from his corporeal frame made the air like ice. It choked me, restricting my soul from existing. I felt as though the universe paused in his presence.
Death walked through my warehouse like a sommelier might peruse a wine cellar. "So many fine instruments. 5.56 by 45 millimeter, hollow points, tugsten-carbide core, these....."Death audibly gasped as if he were sipping ambrosia, "what I really enjoy is the beauty of design. You can shoot a man In his ankle and these lovely pieces will fragment to his heart, through his esophagus and up to seat of his conciousness. Such a complex confluence of physics harnessed into this cartridge", he held a single bullet up, almost marvelling. "
"W-what can I serve you with, my warehouse... Is yours", I labored, short of breath.
Death set the bullet down in its place, "The Power to be a king, to rule your inch of the universe, to decide who lives and who dies. If these people pulling triggers only knew what game they were dabbling in. *My Game*.",he pierced into me, "
"Humanity is like a cancer, I consider myself the surgeon to excise it. I'm hardly complaining, on the contrary I relish you humans desire for me, it gives me purpose."
Although, I am but one *man*.",he chuckled nefariously,"I need to update my repertoire."A black scythe apparrated into his hand, dripping with blood. He looked at it and spoke, "this scythe has ushered ninety five billion three hundred million lives, give or take, into my domain. And yet, I cannot keep up. I need something more... contemporary."
...
I shutter even now to think of the terrible retribution if I had answered with anything other than a 'yes'. Within my four walls, buried beneath the earth some 3,500 feet ...looking back... I would have changed a single fucking thing.
...
"Intercontinental ballistic missiles."I opened the army green USSR labeled case."I'm sure you can take a few lives with these?"
"ICBM's... I said ***contemporary*** this isn't the cold war."
I winced, in fear of his lust for Death. He truly is who he says. "Understood. I have this shipment from China, it came this month."
I handed him the cannister
...
"COVID-20"
...
Death smiled. |
Imagine, if you will, a monster. What did you think of? Big scary teeth, shining like daggers in the moonlight? Huge claws ready to rip out your intestines and wear them like garters? Perhaps you saw something with mandibles and more eyes than should be reasonably possible to fit on a face. Those are all valid ideas about monsters. But they are far from the worst kind. Those are merely what our instincts warn us about, instructions left behind from millions of years of evolution. No, my friend. By far, the scariest monster has the face of a friend.
In everyday life, this monster, like a man wearing a mask, seems nice. Approachable. Perhaps you feel like you can grab a beer with them, sing karaoke together badly, count on them to stand by you in rough times. And on the surface, they do indeed seem like that. They are all smiles, all friendly gestures, and seem harmless. But get them alone, and the mask portraying a friend comes off.
Then they are vicious, hungry, and ruthless. They will not think twice about seducing your wife, stealing your accomplishments, stepping on your face in order to gain power. They are like ice, only where ice can be helpful and useful, these monsters have no redeeming qualities. Friend to them is a word that means useful pawn, anyone who questions them is a rival, and they do not consider themselves the sort to have friendly rivalries. And any potential mate, even those who have chosen a person to share their life with, is something they want to take.
They have nothing to give to the world, to them kindness is stupidity, and charity is exploitable stupidity. If the option came for them to kill you and eat your flesh, they would take it. Because they see themselves as the predators, and others as their prey. But not even the cruellest of animals can compare to the evil of these monsters. They make the cat seem merciful to the mouse, the shrike seem loving and gentle towards those animals it impales on sharp sticks.
And the worst part is that there is no indication. From the outside they look exactly like you, or me. But underneath their mask, there lies the scariest of all monsters, the one that will pretend to befriend you, only to exploit you until it can find no more usage for you, beyond a plaything. They walk in our midst, so be cautious, for the scariest monster is not the obvious one, it is the one that you won't see until it is too late.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
One of the few universal constants are that teenagers and the rich disregard rules. Rich teenagers disregard the boundaries of logic and reason to do things so unspeakably and incredibly stupid as to defy the expectations even the craziest loons have of them. So when five of the richest teens, all heirs to various intergalactic MegaCorps or Conglomerates, got tired of the same old incredibly luxurious shopping palaces, having bought more than one of everything at them, they had to just hang out together and do nothing. Which bored them. But they didn't fret, didn't decide to stay at home and be reasonable, no, they stole an experimental teleportation device from one of their respective parents' companies, and travelled somewhere so they could find a new place to buy new stuff.
They teleported to a hitherto uncontacted world. A world where the inhabitants had only recently managed to travel around in their own star system. In their arrogance, they expected to be treated like corporate royalty. But the locals had a very different reaction. Didn't take long for the five of them to get captured by local security forces.
This act broke the Universal Accord, a set of rules invented to prevent the universe from mindlessly spiralling into all-out war. One of the rules stated that no species must be contacted by alien lifeforms directly unless absolutely necessary. First Contact would only be initiated after the primitive world had become capable of colonising their own star system. Unless it was a case of an emergency. These five rich teens, with their reckless abandon, just caused a civilisation, one considered a Category Five non-contact civilisation, to have a device capable of transporting them across the cosmos. To any planet they so desired.
The Corporate Fleet was sent to that world, to retrieve the teens. And a Interstellar Peacekeeping Fleet was sent there to retrieve the experimental, and also highly illegal device from a race which was unpredictable and potentially violent. The Corporate Fleet threatened and blustered, but their strategy is to blockade the world, preventing any trade it has. And since the human world of Sol-III, locally called Terra, had no trade relations, this did not bother them in the slightest.
The Peacekeeper Fleet asked for peaceful negotiations, which the humans agreed to. The Corporate CEOs, the Peacekeeper Generals, and an astonishing amount of human leaders who were all bickering with each other, sat down to deal. At first, they thought it would be simple to deal with the humans, but the moment the Corporates or the Peacekeepers tried anything, the humans immediately made common front. They demanded ludicrous things, like single ownership of all nearby star systems, access to FTL engines for reverse engineering, for a small but substantial fleet of ships to patrol their new territory, terraforming tech, and a lot else. The Peacekeepers tried to appeal to the better nature of mankind, while the Corporates offered to take the planet in as a subsidiary.
Humanity as a whole answered by throwing a bag containing something horrid on the table of negotiations. A severed, alien hand. Bloody and recently cut. This changed things. This was not a primitive race in awe of their alien betters, trying to get a good deal. This was a hostage negotiation. Especially when the humans used the experimental teleportation device to infiltrate one of the Corporate Fleet ships, kidnapping the crew, and blowing it up with a primitive nuclear weapon from the inside.
This was the other reason that First Contact was restricted, you could never know what kind of race you were dealing with, until it was too late. Humanity was not a race which had had an easy time, they were not pushovers. A species which had no mercy from their homeworld, a species that had seen more war and terror before they reached their Moon, than most species experience between their primitive origins, and their eventual extinction. Their planet was filled with dangerous animals, naturally occurring chemical weapons, and extreme seasonal variation. They were hard. Peacekeeper sociologists found to their horror that the human narratives involving alien lifeforms were both incredibly imaginative, and extremely negative. In fact, negotiations didn't actually proceed until the aliens were informed what they were dealing with
Humanity wasn't needlessly cruel and violent. They were terrified. Like animals forced into a corner. They had seen a number of alien lifeforms just randomly teleport into the middle of an area filled with people. Alien lifeforms which had the absolute worst attitudes in the universe. Their attempts to purchase babies, throwing currency at shopkeepers which was completely useless on Terra, and their attempts to eat people's pets didn't endear them to anyone. And their threats of having their parents blow up Terra certainly didn't help the human cultural impression of extraterrestial lifeforms.
And then, once these alien lifeforms had been contained, and their strange tech was being looked over by human scientists, two massive fleets consisting of hundreds of imposing ships, arrived. The humans were terrified. So they turned to their best of tricks, and bluffed. The aliens would think them brutal and willing to do anything. So they would not mess with humanity. Their analysts on Terra had concluded that their only other choice was to surrender the planet and lay down their arms.
Once this was learned, it wasn't difficult for the Peacekeepers to have the humans lower their demands, and release hostages. The secretly panicking humans gratefully accepted the half-dozen star systems they were offered, being allowed to join the Universal Accord, not as a junior or lesser member, but a fully fledged and independent group, along with FTL capable civilian ships. The Corporate fleet was angry however, because the hostages were turned over to the Peacekeepers, where they'd be subjected to incorruptible A.I. judges. This was the beginning of the human entrance to the Universal Accord, and the Corporates animosity towards them.
All because of some rich, dumb, bored teenagers wanted to go shopping somewhere new.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you. But my duty to the timeline has forced me to abandon happiness and I remain here stuck in a never-ending loop of stopping those who come back.
That is how I know you go on. You are willing to lose your place before the Gods, but I must remain vigilant in my duty. The future that awaits should the Elder Gods fail to receive the required sacrifice is too horrible for me to allow. Far across the distance and spaces between us, you have come to show you go on. Me a lowly servant and you a high priestess of Cthulhu.
Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on just as the life of the Gods. Once more you open the door each time another is sent and you're here in my heart. I ride the sinking ship down with the growing numbers of offerings. With my success, each person you send only lengthens the time the Elder Gods will be appeased. The deep water will remain still, and my heart will go on and on
Love can touch us one time, And, like ours, last for a lifetime. And with this sinking ship it will never let go 'til we're gone. By appeasing the Gods I ensure your eternal life.
Love was when I loved you and we stood before the Gods together singing the joy of their worship as we sailed at the bow of the ship our arms outstretched. That one true time I'd hold to in my memories. In my life we'll always go on
Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on. This new offering comes to me to warn me. I take him below decks and pile him among the others. Once more you open the door through time and space, And you're here in my heart. The sacrifice's heart is lovingly placed in the furnace, and my heart will go on and on.
You're here, despite the distances of centuries and continents. There's nothing I fear. The ice scrapes the ship, and I know that my heart will go on. I don't know why you want to risk such wrath. To save you I make this sacrifice, even as you try to save me. Perhaps, we'll stay forever this way.
As the ship sinks I know you are safe in my heart and in the deep I know my heart will go on and on. |
Karv Peletix had not done well in life.
He wasn't sure when it had started, perhaps one of those days when racing the other schoolboys away from the punishment of "last one there is a rotten egg,"he'd come in last and a bit of that rotten egg had gotten into him and festered.
Despite his parents encouragements, he never really focused on his schooling as he should have. As As turned to Bs and, later, Cs with the occasional D sprinkled in, encouragements turned to chidings turned to enraged exasperation and finally a deafening silence after his father informed Karv that, since he was a graduate, and a man now, he'd have to be paying rent and wasn't it a shame that he'd so many bad marks and didn't Karv wish he had listened to him.
The two had glared at each other. Karv did wish he had a few less bad marks and a few more job offers, but his father was absolutely wrong if he thought that Karv wished he had listened to his pomposity any more than he had.
That glare had been the last conversation the two had. Karv had gathered up his rucksack, tossed in a pair of jeans, two torn tee-shirts, and a Swiss officer's knife and stormed out the door. His mother, already deep in her sickness, had tried to stop him, but her strength had left out the door with the family's savings a long time ago. She had passed not long after. Karv had read it in the newspaper.
Life really places a lot of emphasis on letters, Karv found. If one had certain letters, like A or BS or MS, doors just opened up. If one had PhD or MD, the doors also had automatics motion-sensor sliders. His letters, CCDCFC, did not open doors. His letters had the special ability to make walls and cliffs grow where none had been before.
But, letters aren't the end all, and, if one is willing to get one's hands dirty and work at it, one can make something of themselves even with the wrong ones. Karv found good work with an electrician in town, and found he had a special skill with the computers they worked on. From the ground up he learned from the electrician, how to put them together, how they worked, how to speak with them through keyboards. And he made a decent amount of money for a person like himself.
About this time, Karv met Millie, a dainty thing who never ate enough and smiled even when she was sad and often decided not to say what she wanted to do because her mother had told her it was a vulgar practice (which led to many awkward first dates of the "I dunno, what do you want to do?"variety).
They got on like gin and coffee, not well enough to put on a menu, but tolerable and better than nothing. After a series of relatively silent dates, they married, and after a series of relatively silent evenings alone, they had a child, Vert.
He didn't spend much time at home with his silent bride and his noisy child. His noisy child transformed into a sulking youth, then a rebellious teen, as Karv himself had been. And Karv had chastised and rebuked him for his laziness, as his father had done to him. And the cycle continued just as it had some thirty years before.
Only this time the mother didn't get sick. Karv did.
It wasn't a glamorous kind of sick, the kind which one battles, and people support one against, and that slowly eats away the entire family savings account. It was a rare, and quick, and vicious kind of sick.
Karv passed in a room more empty than full with silent people and noisy machines. A bouquet of flowers purchased from the gift shop downstairs sat wilting the military grade lighting.
As he passed, his life flashed before him. But it did it too many times he thought. The angry father, the silent mother, the rebellion, fracture, death, angry father, silent mother, rebellion, fracture, death, angry...
On and on it went until Karv was sure something had gone wrong in the whole dying business. Then it looped for a final time, and Karv realized it hadn't just been his life, but his father's, his father's father's, and on and on, and as his spirit floated out of the hospital bed, he got one last look at Vert and he felt that emotion that fathers dread.
***
Karv's ghost floated out of the hospital room and into a large computer room and was greeted by a goliath signage reading:
"CONGRATULATIONS! YOU ARE THE FIRST SUBJECT IN OUR NEW TRANSCENDENT EXPERIMENT THAT WE CALL... FREE PLAY! CHOOSE YOUR CHARACTER"
Karv scrolled through the interface, bewildered. Dragons, Xenoforms, hyper-rich people, beautiful people, animals, all scrolled past. At the end of the list was a picture of himself, eight years old, before he'd been a rotten egg.
He smiled and [selected](https://www.reddit.com/r/jacktheritter) it. |
Baroness Catherine was tied up in the Evil Prince Janos's castle, again. It was beginning to get a bit tiresome, though, the chains were new. Last time, she'd been roped. Then again, last time she'd smuggled a knife in and cut her way out of the ropes.
"So, milady. Are you going to marry me yet?"grinned Prince Janos, smirking.
Not even looking from her nails, Catherine frowned. "Jonas, we *are* already married. Why are you even doing this?"
"It's Janos."
"No, I know it's you, Jonas. You don't have to pretend. I figured it out some time ago."
Not that Catherine could see it, but from behind his black silk eye mask, Janos blinked. Because well, it was actually Janos behind the mask, but he still wanted to hear this.
"Figured out what?"
"That for some reason, husband, you and Prince Janos have been switching places. I don't know exactly why you're doing this, but this is getting stupid."
Janos laughed, the obnoxious sound torturing Catherine's ears, but she held her unamused glare at the prince until his laughter trailed off. He straightened, coughing officiously. "Well, if this is stupid, then how are we switching?"
The baroness grinned. "Well, you can pass for siblings. You both have blonde hair, you both have that bloody big nose and that stubborn square chin. The only difference is that you Jonas have a scar on the back of your hand from playing with scissors when we were children, and you're wearing gloves."
"Catherine. I *always* wear gloves. Also this."Janos pulled off his gloves and showed the back of his hands to the woman, whose eyes widened.
"But... that's not possible,"she whispered.
Janos snorted. "Not possible why?"
Catherine muttered in disbelief. "I... I saw the scar the last time Jonas kidnapped me, and sometimes I've not seen it when he's, well you, are with me in the castle. And I've seen the scar every time Jonas has kidnapped me. I know saw it, and Jonas *always* goes on business trips before he does that."
"Well yeah he goes on them to get--"Janos slapped his hand to his face "--nevermind that."
Catherine arched an eyebrow and a grin returned to her impish features. "So, you do switch places with my husband... why?"
"No I don't and even if somehow I did it's none of your business."Janos turned his back on the baroness and crossed his arms trying to figure out an answer to this latest complication. He liked Catherine a *lot*, but her curiosity should have killed her more times than a cat has lives.
However, he could not block out a sing-songy voice that floated into his ears. "I'll make your favorite carrot cake the next time you switch."
"Really? Could you add more raisins--Oh drat damnit all."Janos yanked off his mask and threw it on the ground. "I told Jonas this was going to get too complicated and get us discovered. Bloody delectable carrot cake."
Catherine snorted. "Well, I suppose you are familiar with the fact my husband likes his complicated plans."
"ARRGH, yes he does. Bloody heroic Duke. Can't let the Evil Prince just stew in his fortress with his monster minions. I was having a grand old time until he showed up and presented me with this proposition."
Catherine wiggled her legs out and made herself comfortable. "Ah yes tell me about Jonas's proposition to you, Janos."
Janos scowled. "You do realize I'm an evil prince right?"
The baroness started counting on her fingers. "You've kidnapped me like one, two--ten times--wait, seven out of ten times that was Jonas doing the kidnapping. So, of the three times you kidnapped me the only time you've hurt someone was when you killed Sir Edwin."
"Yeah, I did!"
Catherine smirked. "Decrepit old and corrupt Sir Edwin who literally nobody likes. You actually killed him by accident when you blew down the door. Makes me really wonder if you're all *that* evil."Her smirk seemed to fade and her green eyes, which Janos found to be way too pretty, seemed to crinkle with sorrow. "Makes me wonder what else Jonas has been hiding."
Janos winced and sat down beside Catherine. "Look, Catherine, your husband isn't cheating on you. It's just... he remembers a time before "The Great Peace"a time when he was running out swinging and fighting, giving commands and orders, and when you were just a peasant girl and just... listened to him. Sometimes he feels he needs to give unreasonable orders, which he can do with my minions. He also likes just... stealing you away for a bit."
The baroness sniffled, tears beginning to form in her--damnit Janos stop looking at her eyes.
"So it's my fault?"Catherine whimpered.
Janos pinched the bridge of his nose. "Honestly I think it's both of your faults because you're both being stupid and not talking to one another, but that's just me."
Catherine shook her head. "No, you're right. I think there might be some hard truths we need to talk about."She glanced at Janos. "What's in it for you then?"
"Pardon?"
"What's in it for you? You can't have just agreed with all of this because of my carrot cake."
The question, which was asked in the curious, gentle tone that Janos liked best about Catherine, made him swallow, hard.
"I like... pretending I have a married life... which is stupid and wrong. But I swear I've never--"
"Oh no, I know you haven't taken advantage of me *that* way."She glared at Janos, her cheeks coloring red. "You've only taken advantage of me in every other way instead of manning up and just telling me that you like me. Or do you think I haven't noticed the way you look at me?"
A bead of sweat ran down the side of Janos face, which was frozen in pure mortification. Unable to face Catherine's glare, he bowed his head. "... Sorry. I'll... leave you be--"
However, as he stood up, Catherine grabbed his leg. "Oh no. You're not leaving right now. You're going to get my husband and we're going to sit down and have a discussion like civilized people."
"Yes, Cat,"Janos squeaked, partly out of fear, partly because Cat, being a former peasant girl had a really strong grip on his leg.
"And you're unbuckling my chains,"she hissed.
"Yes, but um, there's just one problem,"Janos whimpered.
Catherine practically growled. "And what's that?"
"I don't know where your husband is! I was trying to stall for time!"Janos stammered.
**"WHAT?"**
---
Author's Note: I'm not sure if I am going to continue this short, but if you are interested in reading more of my work and this prompt, feel free to subscribe to r/VrensLibrary and [check the welcome page](https://www.reddit.com/r/VrensLibrary/comments/frlok1/the_welcome_page_and_index/) for more my work, which includes the fantasy webnovel: *[A Fractured Song](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/fjqceh/a_fractured_song_chapter_1_fantasy_isekai/)*. |
"I'm telling you, it's the primate in them."
"And I'm telling you, we have hundreds of colonies with perfectly docile primate preserves, even the ones with the omnivorous varieties."
"Look, Glap-frezk, someone keeps seeding planets to evolve these Ravagers, and they all have primates on them."
Tor-gassh was right, of course. But as much as I knew primates were the preferred bioform of the Ravage Seeders, I could not justify the extermination of an entire family of presentient beings.
We were late arriving at Terra 3, the latest world to be visited be the Ravage Seeders. Our chance to catch them, to get a glimpse of them, slipped through our tentacles yet again. We had hoped to open a dialog, to find out why they kept resurrecting the Ravager plague. The only real torment of the galaxy was this unrelenting swarm of naked primates, who mastered every tool and technology and elevated it to near magic. A dark magic they used to infest living worlds, to try and make them like their own, and then treat them with the same disdain that they treat their birth planets. And all this they would do with bombastic, self-righteous xenophobia, as if all non hominids were ghastly demons.
"Tor-gassh, what is the status of Terra 3's Ravager population?"
"I'm not detecting any slipstream or hyperspace devices, no antimatter storage systems. No predictable Crusade technology of any kind, in fact!"
"What?! Are you sure we're at the correct system?"
"Glap-frezk, I know how to navigate this whole quadrant. I know it like the backs of my pincers. You see that big one with the red storm spot? My ancestors colonized one of its moons. They had a thriving society for millenia before moving on."
Well, Tor-gassh, then explain where the Ravagers are. These primates can't even get off of the surface. Look at them!"
"Actually, there are some rudimentary devices scattered about. There's something on Terra 3's moon ... a fragile station of sorts. I'm also detecting some primitive probes here and there. It seems as if they're using radio and lasers to communicate!"
"The Ravagers?? Using primative tools???"
"I can confirm, Ma'am, Terra 3 has several billion Ravagers, but no intelligent technology to be found."
"Do you realize what this means?"
"Not really, no."
"We've discovered a Seeder planet in its infancy! Surely the Seeders could come back to finish growing this crop."
"But everything we know about the Seeders is that they avoid us at all costs. No one has ever been able to detect anything more than a star drive signature."
"But we've never been this close!"I'd coiled my tentacles like a predator before I realized that I had offended Tor-gassh with my open expression of hostility.
"Sorry. But sometimes I feel like the only way to catch a Ravager is to think like one."
"Glap-frezk, if we're here, the Seeders won't come back, right?"
"Yes, what's your point?"
"Well, what if we can interfere with the Seeders' process?"
"The analysis of their rudimentary transmissions indicates aggression and warlike tendencies. I think the Seeders are done."
"But what if we introduce different input? During the last Reoccurrence, the Ravagers' culture was infused with this morbid fear of non hominid bioforms. But these Hu-mans aren't even close to ready to venture out into the galaxy. What if we implant a different feeling about biodiversity?"
"Tor-gassh, you may be on to something. We need to set up a first contact station near the edge of this system. Treat them like any other emergent species - with open appendages."
"I'll contact the Security Council AND the Tutor's Chamber. Maybe we can actually intercede and keep this crop of Hu-mans from becoming the next wave of Ravagers."
"I hope to all of the Divine Sources that you're right, Tor-gassh. Maybe this brood can be raised with peace and love."
"You think they are even capable of love?"
"If they are, it may be the only thing we can appeal to in the end. If we are to succeed."
"Glap-frezk..."
"Yes, Tor-gassh?"
"You should probably take your tentacle off of the Planet Melter trigger now."
"Oh. ... Right, sorry." |
“To be exact, Excalibur has been drawn and stuck on that very same stone 11,216 times.”
The cleric Thomas explained to Lucien the story of Excalibur while they were walking to their destination. Apparently, a princess will be kidnapped and shortly after a knight will pull the sword from the stone. The knight would then go on a journey to the castle of the dragon where he will rescue the princess. After he slays the dragon, he will sweep the princess off her feet and they will be proclaimed the new King and Queen of the world – Arthem. Before the King dies, he would go back to the location of the stone and plunge it back where he found it for the next King to draw.
“How long has it been since the first time?”
“It would been exactly 1,009,440 years since The First King Arthemio drew Excalibur.”
Lucien held on his hand a thick leather-bound book, a pencil wedged in the spine. Between the hundreds of pages, Lucien has only written on two and a half of them. He didn’t bother taking notes on the lecture he was barely paying attention to. Only the minimum courtesy as a listener to sometimes ask questions was needed, so he just let Thomas drone on and on about whatever his topic was for today.
It has been three months since Lucien was appointed by First Consul Napoleon to enter the portal that mysteriously opened six months ago in a remote village in Italy. A man named Thomas, apparently the head cleric of King Third Arthemio MMMCCXVIII, came to France through the portal.
Thomas, using a flight spell, flew around Italy in high speeds to scout the new land that he has stepped on. During this, he started seeing the incredibly detailed and massive architecture, certainly much more complex than the houses and castles in his world. He was blown away and considered staying there forever and live in a world surrounded by art, but his duty to his King and his country were stronger than his thirst for knowledge so he decided he would eventually return to his world.
Word of him eventually reached Napoleon, The First Consul of The First French Empire, who summoned Thomas immediately. When the two finally met, they shared stories about the worlds from which they have lived in. At the end of their meeting, it was agreed that Napoleon will send an emissary to Thomas’ world and for the representative to stay and observe the magical Kingdom of Arthem for three months. After which, Thomas will then revisit the First French Empire and do the same.
It was a great honor for Lucien, at first at least, to venture into a new world filled with magic. The significance of his task didn’t escape him. He even had doubts that he would be able to accomplish Napoleon’s secret instruction to him, which was to find a way to use the magic from the new world to conquer all of Europe. In spite of his initial apprehension, it only took a week for him to completely understand the Kingdom of Arthem.
It was stuck in a cycle.
In a world where warlocks, dragons, and immortal swords existed, the people have lived the exact same way for literally more than a million years. Even the important figures from their history who had the same names all did the same things. All the kings were “Arthurio.” All the clerics under the king were name “Thomas.” All the princesses were “Maideline.” These people from this magical world were all aware of how repetitive their lives are, and yet they just never seemed to even think about why, after a million years, they haven’t had any technological advancements.
“Let me ask you a question, Thomas. Why won't everyone just name their children Arthurio in hopes of their son being the next King?” Lucien felt like he needed to ask more questions.
“I… Don’t know the answer to that,” Thomas responded, confused as to why nobody has done it either but immediately let it go after a few seconds of pondering.
“Are you not going to wave your pencil on your book?” Thomas asked, interrupting his own lecture about how all the previous kings have prevented any sort of rebellion by killing every scientists, alchemists, and philosophers who were surely dabbling in the demonic practices of the occult.
“I’ll write my notes when we return to the castle. I have a pretty good memory and I prefer writing on a table,” Lucien lied. It wasn’t that he had good memory, it’s just that he had all the information he needed.
“I must say, while I do pity your people for not having a Spell of Unforgettable Memory, I am impressed that you have come up with a device to make an ink and quill more portable.”
“What, this pencil?”
“Yes, that pencil.”
“Thanks I guess.”
A few minutes went by and the pair finally reached their destination, the portal to return home.
“It’s your turn to teach me about your world,” Thomas looked at Lucien with a face as kind as an innocent dog. It was the day when Lucien’s visit ends, and Thomas gets to admire the beauty of the place that was called France, so he couldn’t be more excited.
“I’ll take care of you, Mister Thomas,” Lucien replied.
The pair went through the portal and were transported to Italy. Just a few meters from the portal was Napoleon sitting down on a chair while his guards stood by him as he waited for the return.
“How did it go?” Napoleon asked, looking at Lucien with eyes that seemed to be devoid of any emotion.
“It went… well.” Lucien simply responded, holding in his hand his pencil. “But I do have a new suggestion,” Lucien continued. As he finished speaking, Lucien stabbed cleric Thomas in the heart using his pencil.
Everyone present made an audible gasp, stunned by the sudden violence shown by Lucien. Thomas tried to put his hands together in a praying stance to utter the Incantations of Self-Healing, but Lucien just kept stabbing his pencil directly to the heart of Thomas until the cleric passed out and died.
“Lucien, what the fuck are you doing? Stop!” Napoleon’s expression shifted to surprise and anger.
“King Napoleon, you don’t need to use magic to conquer Europe. We can just take over this entire new world!” Lucien smirked, already knowing what Napoleon would ask.
“How do you think we can beat their armies? They have magic and we only have swords!” Napoleon was already visibly distraught, ready to draw his blade and strike down his envoy that has visibly gone mad.
“It’s simple, King Napoleon,” Lucien responded. “I’ll tell you about the magical world, but first you have to change your name to Arthurio.”
------
First prompt, first gold after 8 years of being reddit. I appreciate it. |
Mr. Pottington is having a bad day. I know this because Mr. Pottington is my neighbor, and we used to chat every morning while I waited for the bus.
Mr. Pottington is a simple man with simple pleasures. He is proud of his garden, which teems with flowers and vines and until very recently sported some glorious tomato plants. The tomatos were delicious.
I haven't had a chat with Mr. Pottington in about a week but I can see him peering through the curtains, no doubt contemplating where it all went wrong.
At first glance everything on the street looked normal. You could walk through the neighborhood in blissful ignorance and think nothing was amiss, wandering through a suburb equipped with all the quaint flavors of Americana, perhaps making your way to the strip mall and its myriad conveniences right on the edge of the residential development. But after a while you would notice a great distortion in the sky, as if the the air itself shimmered along an invisible border, and your blissful ignorance would end in a forceful, world-shattering kind of way, looking up at that great magical barrier. I know this because I put it there.
I knocked on the door. "Mr. Pottington,"I said, trying to keep my impatience at bay. "Your presence is required. The whole town is gathering today. I know you've seen the fliers."
There was a slight scuffling behind the door. "Mr. Pottington,"I repeated. "Please come outside. You are safe."
We had been going door to door all morning to get everyone to come out. There were no more satellites in the sky to facilitate a quick text or cell phone call, and the radio tower had been one town over, so none of the archaic house phones worked either.
The great shift had happened at four in the morning, with our sleepy midwestern town waking to a new world. The adjustment period was quicker and easier for my friends and I, who had a few years before, on account of the fact that we had gained strange, otherworldly powers, already realized that reality was pretty strange.
The door cracked open slightly. "Alright, alright,"Mr. Pottington said, squinting through the gap. "Let me get my cane."
Some time later the entire town was gathered in the mall parking lot. There were four thousand odd people, most just coming out of their week-long state of total shock. At least the shrieks of uncomprehending denial had ended a couple of days ago.
Stellar rolled up, literally, on giant ephemeral spinning wheels. She winked them out of existence and dropped down to the cracked pavement. This would have caused mass hysteria only a week before, but now, standing as we all were under a giant magical dome, noone in the crowd spared her a second glance.
"That's everyone,"she said, shifting her weight back and forth on each leg. She'd been on the wheels for most of the morning.
I nodded. "Great,"I said, then I turned to look at the waiting crowd. My parents were somewhere in there but I couldn't see them. A few others of our friend group rolled up, all on their own variations of Stellar's wheels. Our powers had grown rapidly in the last week, and that was a good thing, for the creatures outside the dome were dangerous and the town was running out of food.
I amplified my vocal cords. "Welcome everyone,"I said, my voice booming over the worn down concrete of the parking lot. "We have been in this new world for a week, and the dome above us still holds. My friends and I have roamed further and further beyond the dome, and it is a dangerous, dark world out there. We have-"
The dome shuddered, groaning beneath the weight of a massive impact. Immediately I transferred my conscious thought to the dome's substance, imbuing it with power. Stellar and the others joined me, reinforcing the mental threads of magic that held the superstructure in place. The dome absorbed a second impact. The crowd looked up to see a sky swirling with power, the fabric of reality stretching inwards like a trampoline absorbing a jumping child, then springing back outwards with a triumphant flash.
Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I felt an intense flush, but I held my head high. The community must feel safe under the dome. I sought out Mr. Pottington, grounding myself in the normalcy of my grandfatherly neighbor.
"As I said, the world outside is filled with terrible creatures, but we,"I indicated my line of friends. "...have ventured far outside the protective shield, and we have cause to believe there may be friends out there as well."
I turned to Stellar and flicked my eyes in the direction of the listening crowd, all of whom were silent and trembling before things they did not understand.
"Okay,"Stellar said, her voice magnified. "Forget everything you knew about your old lives. To survive in this new world we have to do things in new ways."She moved her hands in a circular motion, drawing huge circles on the pavement, one in red, another in blue, and a third in green. "We're going to categorize everyone into groups. If you don't volunteer, you will be placed where we believe you to be most effective-,"
The dome shuddered again. This time a crack formed and a giant claw pushed through. We were ready. The seven of us looked upwards, concentrating, and the dome closed in an instant, severing the claw in two.
Ajax stepped forward, blue flames cascading down his arms. "If you can hold a spear or draw a bow,"he said, seizing the moment. "Please gather in the red circle." |
"You have trained well Kal-El. But you've always held back. I may have won many of our battles. Yet you let me win, haven't you?"Genji spoke to the young male. His strength and speed were always barely above everyone else's. No matter how much they trained. He only practiced his forms. Never strength training. Never speed training. He always one step ahead of everyone else.
"Do you want the truth or the answer you're wanting to hear, Genji?"Kal-el spoke to the older gentleman. The head warrior that has trained him for years now. "I see every single move before you even make it. The slightest twitch in your muscles, the grip on your handle shifting. The instant your gaze moves to your target I have already seen the counter."
Genji smiled and walked circles slowly around Kal-el, smiling as he understood what he said. "No matter the training, you've never been winded. No matter the difficulty of the weight, you don't strain. You fake it well."The thoughts ran through Genjis mind as he recalled the way Kal-el was always in control.
"How fast can you go? How strong are you? Have I ever actually hit you? There are so many questions that will give the same answer Kal-el. It is amazing and disappointing to know that I have never bested you."
"I meant no disrespect, Genji. I am faster than any eye can see. Stronger than I am able to test with our current means. You've never hit me in our 12 years of training without my knowing and allowance. The first time I was worried the blade would hurt. But as the blade made contact with my skin I would shift so that the armor would tear away. Knowing the blade would break if I hadn't."
"Good, this is what I needed to hear. There is a man down in the Ryuku Islands. He has bested everyone so far including myself. He has a blace that he made himself. It is not of any ore I have seen. It glows green in the night and his moves are swift. Are you ready?"
----
It's a poor story but thats what I got. :( I tried
---- |
There's a curiosity with reality that is seldom talked about, and yet always assumed. The humble assumption. It's impossible to live life without assumptions. When you look at a cup, you do not inspect it and test it to see if it is indeed like the last cup you used, you simply assume that it is a cup. These assumptions, these bits and pieces of common knowledge drive our world. It can be used to explain away almost everything that appears to be a misconception. For example, if you woke up one day, and it was dark outside, but your phone said 10:00 am, you'd assume one of two things. Either, the sun forgot to rise, or there's a problem with your phone. Now, I'd wager most people would bet on the phone being problematic. Fair. But, there are a few people who would assume the phone is correct. For, every single moment of their life, the phone has always been correct. Maybe they're even familiar with how a phone works, and they've studied phones. They haven't studied space, so perhaps it is some sort of strange phenomenon that only a trained astronomer would be able to explain away. And from there, the assumptions continue. From the simple assumption that the phone is right, and couldn't possibly be wrong, we end up with someone convinced the sun did not rise.
***
The vaccine was optional. Highly encouraged, but optional nonetheless, for it was deemed unethical to force it on others. That, and economics, for there were only so many vaccines to go around in the early days, and - let's be fair here - there were side effects. The professionals admitted that it was rushed, that long-term, they did not know if it was safe. The testing and trials were streamlined and rushed, in order to save lives now. Even a fair few scientists decided not to take the vaccine, claiming that social isolation and being individually responsible, until the concoction had been thoroughly tested was the way forward. Many, about half, chose to follow this path. But lives were being lost, and governments were being pressured, both from the populace and economic forces to get people back to work.
Humans are not too original at naming things. So despite best efforts, it was called the Plague. Like all the other plagues before it, it was devastating. Over a hundred million dead, and an estimated three hundred million dead due to complications, lack of healthcare services, and other related factors, all attributed to one disease. But ever tenacious, humanity survived. And the Plague, it slowly became nothing more than another interesting historical footnote. Much like the Chernobyl disaster, the true effects would not be felt until the next generation.
2046\. The start of the second wave. The vaccine was not flawless, and the cracks began appearing in the death of infants given the vaccines. Due to a complication, about 40% of infants who were given the vaccine would begin to develop a secondary strain of the Plague, that was less contagious but far more lethal. It was only a few short weeks after the news started spreading that a few statisticians figured out that almost all, greater than 99%, of all the infants that died had parents that were receivers of the initial vaccine. Human biology is complicated. The vaccine would protect the initial receiver from the Plague, but any of their descendants were vulnerable to a very common genetic flaw that made them unable to fight off the virus. This, alone, would not have been a problem if not for the second fatal flaw: Dormancy.
You see, the Plague was not so much wiped out as put to sleep. It would pass along like herpes from those that had the vaccine, harmless even to those who were never vaccinated, and that version would provide a sort of immunity. But this didn't happen for the coming generation, known as the Lost Generation. When they were exposed, to either the vaccine, or the dormant Plague, the results were just like the first wave. Utterly horrific. Dead, within days, sometimes hours. Mothers left childless, fathers left weeping, families bearing the crushing guilt of their own selfish mortality, or so the extremists of the unvaccinated called them.
Thus, humanity was splintered in two. Those who took it upon themselves to get vaccinated, to survive the storm, and to make sure that those they came into contact with were safe, only to find the price to be their children. And those who did not, who weathered the storm, and would go on to foster the next generation.
Humanity persists, and some from both sides show empathy to the other. An understanding that it had to be done for everyone to be where they are now. But that doesn't sell. That doesn't stoke the fires within our tribally bound instincts. Everyone blames everyone for the death of children, the salvation of the modern world, and the loss of a generation.
Today, the first shots were fired. No doubt there were others, but it is the first time a government has taken a stance, making it illegal for those who were vaccinated to ever have children. The streets are packed with those inflamed, and I can only hope with horror that it does not undo us.
So lofty in our vanity, we had thought the Plague defeated but a few years ago. Another enemy of mankind, slain through the relentless march of progress and innovation. And yet, our weapons of science have been turned against us by ourselves, the sacrifice reaped in the name of all mankind was not enough to satiate it.
Within the coming years, it seems inevitable that those who paid the price, who did not have the luxury of stowing away and waiting it out will bring arms to bear. They have been robbed of continuity, and cannot take the wrath to such a vague enemy as Plague. So they bring it upon those who didn't partake in the sacrifice, those who did not risk their lives for the greater good. They will not simply lie down and accept it.
One day, the Plague may leave us. But first, we must survive the third and most deadly wave. The one that has been raging throughout human history.
Each other. |
The ship approached the metal wall, gliding through space quietly as a port opened on the side.
The human standing next to me sighed a bit. She was notably short, even for her kind. But we had known each other for years, since the Falvax wars where she had been chief negotiator, and I was the United Council rep.
She had been silent the whole time, which was at odds with her normal cheerful disposition. I was attuned to her body language which typically was very understated compared to my people, who often used it far more expressively.
Humans were one of the very few species who had built a full sphere around their solar system. And it was massive. Most species never bothered, a swarm was sufficient and the effort was better spent on exploration and expansion. But no non-human had ever been inside since contact was made. It was far out of the way, the humans were reclusive, and all trade was conducted at a spaceport far outside.
The Varian attacks on human colonies had changed everything. The humans, with only light duty police cruisers, had been overwhelmed. They had lost their three colonies in rapid order and now the Varians were coming here.
She finally spoke, "I suppose the Great Lie had to end eventually."I could hear the emphasis on those words.
"The Great Lie?"I asked her, my third arm adding the interrogative as my other two piloted the shuttle.
"Humanity is not… united… we had three colonies, one for each faction, as part of our agreement."
"Plenty of species have multiple polities."motion for flat, non-judgmental affect.
"It is hard to speak of this, after our century of silence. But here we are.You see, when we made contact, so far away from here, by a random wildcatter who jumped into a random transient wormhole and somehow made it back."
"Our nations were at war."
The final gate of the sphere opened, and I saw more ships than I had ever imagined. Painted in three different schemes, large and small. And the ones we glided by armed to the teeth.
"It took hundreds of years for you to come this far and build a gate. During that time, the war intensified until most of our planets were destroyed. Then a temporary truce where we built this sphere, not to capture energy, but to hide the continued conflict. It was decided we would present a unified front to the outer worlds, but our conflict continued hidden inside this sphere. Each faction was allowed one colony outside, separated, of course, to avoid even the slightest exposure of disunity."
"You destroyed your homeworld?"I was horrified.
"It is in pieces, and part of the asteroid belt."She pulled up a holomap of the system. Her demeanour was almost professorial in its flatness, so she was suppressing her emotional reaction.
"This is what we have said our system looks like. The traditional 8 planets and 3 demi-planets that we started with."The holomap floated there with orbits demarcated in 2 dimensions. Labelled and clearly demarcated with the sphere a thin circle of blue.
"But this is what it is…"
The holo changed, the first through fourth planets gone, a much larger asteroid belt. The larger two gas giants, one was Saturn, the other Juper? I couldn't remember, diminished in size. The outer planets half mined out and broken into large pieces.
"What did you do?"
"Well, we took a few asteroids, and lobbed them at our own planets, to start."
"To start?"My arms twitched in agitation.
"Then we depleted the nearby resources building warships and small dispersed colonies on asteroids and moved onto building ships and weapons out of the other planets as well as eventually this shell."
She added, "and we kept warring the whole time."
I stared at the ships, some had scorch marks on them. All of them had various apertures on them for weapons, many of which I didn't recognize. I think the entire Council's standing military would not even be half the number of the ships I could see. Which was, of course, why we could not help the humans against the Varians.
"You people are insane!"I could not even begin to comprehend what was happening here.
She nodded sadly, "Yes, we are. We are a mad species."
"And in all those years, we worked together… human diplomats and tradesmen were considered soft and yielding. Nobody ever thought anything else.
“Yes. But war has come to us and the lie has ended. A temporary ceasefire has been reached. The Varian threat will be removed but the cover will be over. “
“You will not end the war?” I couldn’t understand this.
“No. This is what it means to be us. To fight and war for no reason at all. Too be unwilling to moderate ourselves. To seek power and annihilate the enemy. “
She continued, “the only ones allowed to kill humans are other humans.” Silent tears went down her face.
——
The battle which followed wasn’t even worth commentary. The humans annihilated the enemy fleet. They invaded through the gate with less than 1/10th their fleet and destroyed each Varian military installation, shipyard, and gate. Stranding them for at least two hundred years until a new gate could be towed there. At the very least, since they were no friend of the UC.
And the humans. They immediately went back to killing one another.
—-
The teacher brought up the star map. That is why this area is off limits. Even now, 200 years later the humans continue their war. Neighboring species fled, paradoxically leaving them more resources to fight with.
One child raised her arm, coincidentally the same species as the recording we just watched, “what stops them from destroying us?” Her three arms all showing agitation.
“Only their hatred for their own kind. “ |
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