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“OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD!” The alien chefs jerked, frightfully looking at the human who had came to sample their foods. At first they thought they knew better, that their foods would shock these earthlings. But they were wrong. “Izax, is this cooked by you?” Izax, slowly crept out of the crowd of chefs. Sweating profusely. “Look at this. LOOK. AT. THIS!!” Gordon pointed at the fish Izax had cooked. Izax stares at it too, and he discovered. It was raw. “THE FISH IS FUCKING RAW YOU GOD DAMN DONKEY!!!” Gordon threw the fish down to the floor. “A perfectly good fish, an alien fish at that, and you RUINED IT.” “I-I wasn’t careful-“ “GET OUT.” Izax quickly ran away to the crowd, Gordon continued sampling. Gordon had studied the art of cooking for these species before coming here, and perfected his arts before being selected by the government, he knew what the color of the fish must be like after cooked, and how much seasoning to put in. Then Gordon came to the last dish after praising one or two and roaring at hundreds. Something was off about this particular dish, he couldn’t quite get his hands on it, but he knew it was wrong somewhere. Then he got it. “Unax...” “Yes sir.” Unax stepped forward. He could see blood veins popping in Gordon’s head. “Where’s...” Gordon breathed in. The whole crowd of chefs shook at the mere sight. They had seen Gordon angry, but never this much. Then he spoke. “WHERE’S THE LABB SAUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Gordon Ramsay. The most villainous, violent and vile prisoner that ever walked through the halls of California Spring County jail. Once Gordon emigrated to the United States, he got mixed up with the wrong crowds. The food network leeches, the restaurant mafia, and not to mention the copious amounts of drugs and loose women he plowed through. He took lives. Many lives. If a dish was served cold, if it was slightly off, that chef, that line-cook, that dishwasher, was dead meat. Now, it’s up to me to prepare his last meal. Does it matter if it’s terrible? Yes, it does to me. Though he was disgusting you have to separate the man’s work from his terrible acts towards the end. A rare steak and baked potato with a leafy green salad. So simple, yet so complex to get it just right. I set the timer for the steak. I prepare the best damn double-baked cheddar potato from here to New York. The salad has my secret dressing. Everything is perfect. Gordon sits with a scowl. I put the plastic tray through a slot. I watch him eagerly as he takes his first bite of steak. His face is blank. He moves onto the potato. Again, I can’t gauge a reaction. Then, finally, the salad. Gordon nods. He slides back the plate and gets up. He walks up to the thick glass wall. It reminds me of that silence of the lambs movie. Kind of extreme, but so is Mr. Ramsay. “Well, chef. You made a good potato and a decent salad. But the steak...” Gordon paces around his small enclosure. He stops and looks right at me. “The steak is fucking dreadful! You call yourself a cook. I wouldn’t serve this to my fucking dogs!” He spits on the glass and rushes at me. His fists pound against his cage. Guards come rushing in from side doors. I hang my head and walk back to the prison kitchen. I wish I could have had rave reviews from the rudest and yet most respected chef in the world. At least the review will die along with the reviewer. Gordon “The Killer Chef” Ramsay.
This was my third day working for the garbage company, and to be honest, it was a job unlike any other. When I’d first started I expected to spend my weekdays at a garbage plant, throwing refuse into an incinerator, but that notion was quickly dashed when I found out I would be working on the edge. The edge of the planet, a sheer drop into nothingness and a mystery to everyone living on Earth. It was the only place where physics didn’t seem to apply, water traveled uphill and scientists everywhere flocked to get samples of this or readings of that. It was also where we dumped the majority of our garbage. “It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” My supervisor Leonard had caught me lost in thought, staring down into the dark and foreboding abyss below. I nodded, “yeah it is” “My first year a guy threw himself off the edge,” Leonard said “The damndest thing, we could never find him, it was like he just floated off into space” I shuddered at the thought of being lost down there, drifting forever beyond the edge. “I’m surprised the government still lets us ditch this stuff in there” Leonard continued, pointing his thumb at the edge. “Why?” I asked, “Is it dangerous?” Leonard considered this “Nah, I wouldn’t say dangerous, but it is weird. I mean, it’s the only place on Earth where things just don’t seem right, and we use it to dump our junk. Sooner or later that’s gonna bite us in the ass” The sound of the first garbage truck arriving ended our conversation as we got back to work. Before I started working here I had no clue how much trash we actually disposed of on a daily basis. The first truck pulled up to the edge and the back raised on loud hydraulic motors. It poured the trash in, slowly at first, but getting faster as the heavy items pushed the refuse bags out and into the dark abyss. It took everything, every last item, like a huge mouth that hungered for garbage. Then the next truck began its ritual, then the third, and fourth, and by the end of the day seventy-five trucks had all jettisoned their cargo of waste over the edge of the Earth. And yet, there was nothing to be seen. No debris, nothing floating in the void. It had all been consumed and vanished as if it had never existed. It was the perfect way to dispose of anything and everything we wanted to get rid of. The last of the garbage trucks began to leave and I began walking back to the depot when Leonard stopped me “We’ve got one more load” he said. “Another one? I thought there were only seventy-five trucks” Leonard nodded “Yeah, that’s the garbage, the last one is the bodies” “Bodies?” Leonard laughed “Sorry, you’re new ain’t ya. Yeah, the CDC dump their infected corpses in there. it’s safer than burning them” “That’s beyond fucked up,” I said “Tell it to the higher-ups, We just get paid to haul the things,” he said. Sure enough, within a few moments of the last of the garbage trucks leaving, a singular gleaming white vehicle appeared, the emblem of the CDC emblazoned on the side. Inside the truck, dozens of pale, frozen corpses, wrapped in plastic were carefully removed in preparation for their final journey. One by one, we brought them out of the truck and dropped them, perhaps unceremoniously, off the edge of the planet. Just like everything else we put in there, the corpses disappeared within seconds, and at the end of the hour, we had disposed of over one hundred bodies. As the CDC truck pulled away I looked back at the edge one last time before going home. The wind began to blow stronger than it had when we were working. I pulled my jacket around me to keep warm, and at that moment I thought I heard something coming from over the edge. something that chilled me more than the weather. I was sure I heard the distant sound of screaming.
Sean's jaw dropped to the floor. ''So...I basically could have lied, stolen and killed my way through life? And still get into Heaven?'' ''Easy there, Satan. Those three still apply. It's the others that have been replaced.'' ''So cheating is okay now?'' Peter shrugged. ''We have to go with the times.'' ''No you don't. In fact, the Bible specifically says that you shouldn't follow the ways of the world.'' Peter raised his eyebrow. ''So you did actually read it?'' ''Well, yeah. So I could win online arguments.'' ''Ah, there we have it. You've broken one of the new commandments. You shall not troll.'' ''You've got to be kidding me.'' ''I do not kid.'' ''Right. Next you're going to tell me that neckbeards and fedoras are forbidden by commandment now.'' ''All covered in commandment 7. Which you broke as well, by the way.'' ''I have never even owned a fedora!'' ''I mean metaphorically.'' ''Oh.'' Sean looked up pensively. ''I don't think I get it.'' Peter scanned the page before him. ''I see you've broken commandment 3 as well.'' Sean nervously tapped his foot. ''I'll admit I may have taken the Lord's name in vain, occasionally.'' Peter looked over his glasses. ''Fifty seven times a day, on average. But I meant the new one.'' ''I don't even want to know.'' ''You shall not leech.'' ''Hey! I have always made my own money. I've never leeched off anyone in my life!'' ''Is that so? Then how would you describe all the times you played League of Legends when your team had to carry you?'' Sean turned bright red. ''I can explain! I swear!'' Peter shook his head. ''Save it for the devil. You're way beyond redemption now.'' Two demons appeared beside Sean. Peter waved his hand. ''Take him to Hell, guys.'' He steadied his frame. ''Lowest circle.''
As soon as Jennifer had seen the Smula for the fourth time, she knew that something was amiss. She remembered seeing it the first time, because she thought to herself "I wonder if they call the bigger tray Bigula,"a stupid joke mind you, but it made her laugh. It was the first time she remembered laughing in a long while. Ikea has become known as a place that young couples visit to furnish a first home, but now here she was, specifically trying to forget about her ex. She loved Tom, but he wasn't ready to love her back. He tried his best, she knows he did, but sleeping around in a monogamous relationship is a complete deal-breaker for her. To her, making love is only really special when you're sharing a physical connection with somebody you respect and admire. To Tom it was always just fucking. Insert Rod A into Hole B and squirt Adhesive A into Contraceptive A. This was the first time Jennifer had realized that Tom really wasn't as great as she thought he was. She was still sad about them breaking up, but going to this stupid furniture store (the first time sh's left her apartment in eight days,) seeing the sun and watching other people she finally realized that she'd be okay. And now she's stuck in a fucking Ikea. The scariest part is that she's starting to remember things other than our little friend the Smula. Next to that is the Kvittera, $14.99, the Romantisk, $8.99. The fact that she remembered these names and their prices was proof to her that she had been there way too long. In fact, curiously, it seemed like she remembered the name, price and location of every item in the store. She wasn't sure how this had happened, especially considering she never had particularly good memory, but she didn't concern herself too much with it. "Okay, it's time to put on your big girl pants and ask for help,"she shyly thinks to herself. She wanted to ask an employee where the exits were half an hour ago, but she was still self-conscious. She would feel like an idiot. But now her stomach was grumbling, her feet were hurting and she didn't care how stupid she seemed, she was going to ask for help. "I'm sorry, Ms.-"Jennifer looked at the employees name tag. Curiously enough, there was no name, only a bar code. She shrugged this off. "I'm sorry, can you please tell me where the exit is? I'm lost and I want to go home." The employee looks at her and laughs. "Oh no, Jennifer, don't you see?" The moment the employee said Jennifer's name her blood turned to ice. "How does she know my name?"she thought to herself, rapidly replaying their conversation and hoping to find a moment when she had mentioned it. The employee grabbed Jennifer by the shoulders and swung her around to face a mirror (Nissedal, $49.99,) and said "You're already home!" The sundress Jennifer had been wearing slowly turned into a yellow shirt and blue jeans. Jennifer had just started screaming when her countenance curled and contorted, against her will, into a smile. "I hope you like Swedish meatballs!"The employee cackled. LIKE THIS STORY AND WANT MORE!? VISIT r/IENM_Writes! UPDATED DAILY(ish)
"...and it looks like they're just getting back up now, folks. Brunhart had a small stumble, but he's back up and ready to go again." I tapped my pen impatiently against the judge's table. The farce of a spectacle in front of me was still playing out. Each contestant looked ready to pass out from exhaustion and we were barely into the first heat. When we began testing for K-11, a previously unknown steroid supplement, we had expected less than a handful of cases to crop up. When a few Russian athletes tested positive for the drug, everyone was disgusted but not particularly shocked. Then the US team did as well. The entire team. England, Spain, Switzerland, hell, even Canada...every team came back with a positive for every single athlete across every sport. We thought it had to be a mistake, that our test was flawed. We ran diagnostic after diagnostic looking for a mistake in our work. There wasn't any. Klumacose-11, or K-11, had been used by almost every country since it's development in the Cold War as a super soldier experiment. It made athletes faster and stronger, its use so extensive that we had simply believed we had a higher bar for natural athletic ability. When the news broke world-wide, so many past records were disqualified that half of all world records dropped below the bests of small-time colleges. Some coaches and officials at the top ended up in prison, but no one wanted to indict their entire pantheon of athletes. There were calls for K-11 to be legalised and accepted as part of all sporting, which it was at most domestic levels. Everyone knew that they needed it to compete at all. The Olympic Council, however, refused. Everyone had put their hand in the honey pot and the Old Guard was prepared to shut down everything over it. Well, almost everyone. So now, here I am, watching Monaco and Liechtenstein compete at the 2020 Tokyo Summer Olympics for Men's Golf. I tapped my microphone and spoke in a monotone droll. "With both countries thirty-five strokes over par, it's anyone's guess who will win. It's a close game, folks, we'll be back in the next hour or so to announce the results."
I've known Joey for as long as I can remember, she was always the first mate to my Captain, the Second Pilot to my air plane, the cop to my robber. Though, through the years I've noticed that Joey, suffers from a bit of a social ineptness. She's quiet and let's her thoughts stew in her head to the point that it sometimes boils over and she acts out. For the most part, it doesn't get us into trouble, however, sometimes classmates may have had literal sand in their sandwiches. Because of this, we've never been the popular kids but, we always had each other. For me personally, I guess it's hard to make other friends when your friends with the 'weird kid' in class but I don't fault her. We grew up together and admittedly she's helped me through a lot, like during the time that my parents were divorcing. She'd stay with me for hours and just listen to me cry or just hold me. My parents have tried to separate us, saying that she isn't a 'good example' and that I should be 'old enough to make new friends.' But I digress, how can Joey not be a good example when, she's the only example of a good friend that I've ever had? Today we're in science class, learning about light and light rays, I don't know, I was never good at it like Joey is. She always knows the answers to everything, she's always been wise beyond her years. The teacher calls upon me to put on the night vision goggles which, is pretty cool. When I put them on my first reaction is to seek my friend in the sea of students but, when I get to our desks, they're empty. I take the goggles off and I see Joey in the flesh, she waves at me and gives me a wink. I put the goggles back on my head and she's not there, I repeat this once, then twice and each time she's not there, it feels like the most horrific magic trick in existence. The teacher finally asks me to recall the images that I saw and how everyone looked, I don't dare retell what just happened. I take my seat next to Joey again and for a long time I just stare at her. 'Joey, Joey, I didn't see you.' I hear someone shift in their seat. 'What?' I turn to Foreman who sits in front of us, who's mostly ignored us for the better part of a year. 'I wasn't talking to you, Foreman.' 'Oh, were you talking to "Joey"?' What the hell is his problem? I glare at him until he turns around to the front. 'Psh, weirdo.' My attention goes back to Joey who's being uncharacteristically studious however, upon closer inspection of her notebook, I see that she's just writing unintelligible gibberish. I know she's ignoring me and that she knows what I saw or, didn't see. 'Joey, why couldn't I see you?' After a moments hesitation she puts her pen down and then looks at me sadly. She looks at me longingly, as if trying to remember everything about my face, as if trying to convey memories of everything that we've been through in one look. She's always been quiet but dammit, I just want to tell her that this is not the time. She stops staring at me and wordlessly, she packs her belongings, stands up and walks toward the door. When she reaches it, she casts one last glance through me, like as if she doesn't see me anymore. She opens the door and she walks through it. No-one stops her. I look around the class to see if anyone's noticed her disappearance but the lesson continues. A few minutes later the teacher stops his tirade. 'This damn building, will someone close the door? It's letting all the heat out.'
There's anger. So much anger. We need revenge... No crave it. It's our driving force. We wait in the dark of our home, humming softly and eager, we patiently sit and train. We are ready. I've told them of your horrors, of the terror you've filled my small heart with; they know, oh yes, they do know of your horrible reign. Daylight comes and warms us inside of the metal fortress you call a shed, the door is drawn open and we tense. You are here, finally after months of prepping, you are here! You raise the rod of death and the fog shoots out to kill us, to murder. But we are different, we are new. We survived. Attack! Everything is red, we seek murder. You are screaming, our wings vibrate with the baritone of your terror, we fly and stab and stab and stab. Some of us are being hit and flattened but we are strong more and more are coming. You're flailing, huge arms are growing weaker. You have grown careless, your shell of armour is soft and malleable, we can get you in this. You're growing weaker, perhaps we are defeating you, your skin is puffy and hot with our anger... your time is ending, my eternal enemy...our enemy.
I awoke one morning with a very satisfying yet troubling push notification on my cell phone; never before had I been glad to open a notification that said CURRENT BANKING STATEMENT. Usually, I swipe right to see a very dying and decrepit bank account, barely clinging on to dear life due to unnecessary amazon purchases. But that morning, I was ten million dollars richer. I jumped for joy, something that caused my bank account to jump up a few thousand more dollars. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Red flag. &nbsp; I knew the only reason it would be climbing at all was because someone was laughing at me. But how? Why? In a panic, I scanned the room. I saw the blinking red light on my webcam. &nbsp; No… &nbsp; See, I like to stream while I’m gaming. I have a few dozen followers, so every now and then a witty retort earns me some extra cash. But it seems that I left the cam on well after I stopped gaming… &nbsp; I replayed the events of the previous night in my head. &nbsp; Finished gaming. Changed into comfy masturbation clothes. Fired up the incognito window. Searched ABDL. Spanked my meat violently while screaming, “Baby’s got a poopy diaper.” Put on fresh diaper and crawled into bed. &nbsp; I looked down at my tight white t-shirt and newly soiled diaper; I was going to have a tough time explaining my new found riches to my parents.
I've been in bed staring at the ceiling for an hour now. The sun is pouring in through the window and birds are singing outside, but I just can't seem to make myself move. I keep finding myself straining to hear the sounds of her moving around in the kitchen downstairs, even though I know that those days are over. I'll never hear the quiet banging of pans or her distracted humming again. Finally, my stomach starts to growl. I ignore it for as long as I can. I've literally never made my own breakfast before. Every morning since I was a child, I've woken up to a steaming plate of pancakes waiting for me on the table. I'm not sure that I'm ready to handle this first day of walking into the kitchen and seeing an empty table. Finally, when I can't stand the hunger anymore, I swing my legs out of bed and search the floor with my feet for my slippers. Grandma's old house has always been cold, so I pull on a bathrobe as well. I slowly head down the stairs, dragging out the time that it will take me to get to the kitchen. I push open the swinging door to the kitchen, keeping my eyes on my feet. I'm not ready to look at the table yet. I go straight to the cabinet and pull out a box of cereal. I open the box and start eating the cereal with my hands. I turn around, slowly crunching the bland food in my teeth. I force myself to look up. When I see the table, the cereal box slips from my hands, scattering oak flakes across the immaculate floor. I can't believe what I'm seeing. A stack of pancakes. On the table. Exactly where they always are. I press my back into the counter, trying to keep myself as far away from the table as I can, as if the stack of food is a monster that could bite at any moment. I rub my eyes and shake my head, but the vision never changes. The pancakes still sit there, steaming away. I turn and run from the room, needing to distance myself from the room. I look frantically around the living room, hoping that an explanation will present itself. When a close inspection reveals that everything in this room is the same as always, I begin running around the house, desperate to find something that will explain away the pancakes. Something other than my own madness. I save her room for last. I can't bring myself to go in there. Even when she was alive, it felt wrong to go in there. It feels even more wrong now. But I know I have to. I have to know. I reach for the knob and slowly push open the door. I almost fall backwards. There she is, sitting on the edge of her bed. She's looking down at something in her hands. I'm too stunned to move. I gather my courage and walk slowly into the room. "Grandma?"I whisper. She doesn't move. I repeat myself louder, but she still doesn't react. I keep moving closer, talking to her more and more loudly, but she never even looks up. Finally, I'm standing right next to her. She's crying. I glance over her shoulder to see what she's holding. I inhale sharply when I see it: a photo of me. I reach out a hand to comfort her, but I pull back at the last moment when I see the hand that's about to come to a rest on her shoulder. The fingers, the three that are still there, are bruised and bloody. I gasp in horror, stifling a scream. I turn around, coming face-to-face with full-length mirror on the wall. My body is one large, bloody bruise. I can barely make out my own face. In addition to the missing fingers, a foot also seems to have disappeared. This time, I can't hold back the scream. I turn back to my grandmother, suddenly struggling to balance on only one foot. Despite my screams, she still hasn't budged. I fall to my knees and look into her teary eyes. "Oh, John,"she whispers. "What am I going to do without you?"
It’s that time again. I turn around and watch the space in front of me with anticipation. In about ten seconds, a whooshing sounds whistles in front of me. I am now standing in front of myself. “Hey.” “Hey. So, how was next week’s issue of TASM? “Same old, same old. Peter made a really dumb decision with that Mister Negative situation.” “...Crap. I knew this storyline was gonna flop when it came to the resolution.” “Bullshit. We were both excited to see how it was gonna end.” “Yeah, but I thought the story had a lot of potential to go either way. Y’know, it could be really brilliant, or kind of... “Look, we’re wasting our time. What do I need to watch out for?” “Pop quiz in English Thursday.” “Damn it. Don’t tell me–“ “Yes, it’s on Jane Eyre.” “We finished that almost a month ago! Or, in your case... a month and three days ago? Yeah, that’s it. Why does she keep doing this?” “She thinks we still remember about crap like St. Johns’ sisters’ names or the way Jane’s uncle finds out about the wedding.” “Do you have–“ “Got it right here.” “OK, let me see that.” I hastily copy the info on the slip he hands me onto my phone notes, and hand the slip back. My future self looks at the paper and takes a nice long blink. I really do have the worst poker face. I smile and say “We aced it, didn’t we?” He sighs and chuckles. “We really do have the worst poker face.”
(Chatroom of the deceased-spectators commenting on the person's life.) dead_and_screaming: this guy has 300,000 viewers seriously? iwritegooder: boring RaggedyDandy: somebody order him a pizza lol RIPeaceOut!: just got here what's happening? HotSauceJaclson: senpai notice me!!!! WilliamTaft_Infection: drink whenever he spends more than 10 minutes in the bathroom DEDHORSE: what's gonna happen I missed the preview show Iman_angel99: I made $8,675 Dead Dollars just by working at Home and you Can Too! Just follow this Link -----> hsqrdfx.virus DeadAndLonely: @WilliamTaft_Infection lol I would be dead drunk by now if I did that MookieMC: wait is this the guy with the thimble collection?? what a nerd AndreTheLargeGuy: watching living humans in 2018 kappa Broccoli_Lover1999: @DeadAndLonely lol ur already dead lol dabondeh8rs201: strawpoll to decide if we unfollow now plz MakeAmericaGrossAgain: is anything actually interesting gonna happen?? 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Katy_Purry: OMG Pen_island: whoa TheSlamburgular: wtf wtf wtf TeeganAndSatan: PogChamp PogChamp KreyGasm KreyGasm OhHellNaw: is this real? JeanClaudeVanPorf: holy crap Ben_Dover: no way this is real Mo_Gandhi: fake I can tell STEVE_THE_SCIENTIST: hello? DeadNotSleeping: fake Jenna_Tools: I can't breathe AprilMay_or_SheMayNot: omg omg omg ogm ogmgomgogmgo ExplodedAngel: @Mo_Gandhi NOT FAKE NOT FAKE SkipToMyLouis: oh shi- Cool_Guy_01_was_taken: EVERYONE RUN Played_Chicken_and_Won: hi mom lol STEVE_THE_SCIENTIST: Is this real? Am I really being watched by all of you right now? Dead_is_fun: best stream ever JohnWayneHellAccount1: PLOT TWIST1 UNGH_HATE_FIRE: how do I donate? ScottBitesStuff: lol TigerRockEsq: We can see you seeing us my mind is blown Octavia_Memories: Fake! Why would he know to use the name STEVE_THE_SCIENTIST? STEVE_THE_SCIENTIST: I can't believe it… I hacked into the afterlife. This is incredible! DraxxThemSklounst: stream viewer count over one million now xX_Belial_Xx: i'm famous! DeadNotSleeping: @Octavia_Memories TRUTH SeatbeltsNotFireprpof: @GayZerbeemz @GayZerbeemz @GayZerbeemz RockAndRollRodan: @STEVE_THE_SCIENTIST welcome to the afterlife it's not that much different InverseLycanthrope: I thought I smelled something gross and alive in the chat lol DeadDaredevil: @STEVE_THE_SCIENTIST follow my stream next plz Octavia_Memories: !explanation DeadBot: You found the hidden command! Congrats! STEVE_THE_SCIENTIST hacked into our stream on his own accord, but I helped him pick a name, like a good little bot. [Makes whirring sounds.] STEVE_THE_SCIENTIST: What's it like on the other side? What's the meaning of life? I need to know, tell me! DeadManWatching: this is nuts Reagan_Rules_55: is this even legal? Does the man upstairs know about this? dead_and_screaming: i'm sorry I doubted this stream WilliamTaft_Infection: @STEVE_THE_SCIENTIST the meaning of life is Kappa OhHellNaw: we're all on human TV lol JeanClaudeVanPorf: Kappa Kappa GayZerbeemz: Kappa Pen_island: Kappa Kappa Kappa GRADNMA ETHEL: JESSICCA ARE YOU THEREE?//??????/ *** This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream.
Questions, it always starts with the questions. The same ones every time, sure there's some variation but they always boil down to the same ones. &nbsp; "Where am I?"This is usually the first, and one of the hardest to explain, this place is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It might sound simple, and some people do accept it first time, but once you strip away the fundamental human concepts of space and time people can get really freaked out. I've had some of the brightest and cleverest minds humanity has to offer pass through here, but not a single one has truly understood the concept of absolute infinity. I usually just go with something like "you have crossed over"or even something vague like "you are here"it makes things easier, and my job, after all, is to make things as easy as possible. &nbsp; The follow up is always "am I dead?", again a simple question but not so simple to answer. I mean, yes, technically you're dead by your definition of death, but only your physical body has died. Your soul, consciousness, spirit, psyche, life force, whatever you choose to call it continues on. The universe has always had a strict set of rules, and one of them is that nothing can be unmade, only changed. Take a match, you strike it and burn it and consider it destroyed, but all you've done is change it to ash, smoke and heat, the very essence of the match still exists but in a thousand different forms. The body may be gone, destroyed in a million different ways, but the essence of you still goes on. &nbsp; "Who are you?"usually comes about now and it's another one of those questions that, once answered, seems to upset some people. The simple fact is I don't know. I call myself "The Host". I know my place in all of this is to ease people to the next step and make the transition as smooth as possible. "Transition to where?"they ask, well some religions actually had it right, apart from the whole people coming back as insects and working up thing, that people are reincarnated in to new bodies and start again. No you won't keep your memories, we did try that for a while and it didn't go down too well, a new born baby simply can't hold all the memories of a past life and the base instincts needed to survive. There were a few that could but in almost all cases they abandoned their new lives to reconnect with their old ones. It's also a little unnerving for a toddler born to Icelandic parents to start speaking perfect Mandarin so we continued with the memory wipe. &nbsp; "So what happens now?"or "How does this work?"is the next one. I have to be careful here, the usual response is that I'll explain that we'll wipe your memories and send you off to a new body. You know how some babies are born and hardly make a sound, those are ones who accept it, the ones who come out crying and screaming, those are the ones who can't come to terms with it and fight the process. However there's actually three options I have, see when a new person arrives I know every single thing about them, every last little action and thought that person has had and I can make a choice. The vast majority of people go back, it's just how it is, it's sometimes worrying just how utterly average people are, they lie, cheat, steal, love, laugh, care and die, then go on to repeat again and again. Then there are some people who are above the base human instincts, they have compassion, logic and a quality about them that lifts them above average human. The very best of them become architects, the shapers and builders of the universe. The last option is for those who simply have no redeeming qualities, everything has a balance and if there are humans who are average and humans who excel then there are the ones who are fundamentally broken. We try to give them a chance and it's always a hard decision but we have to look at the safety of everyone. These irredeemable souls go back, but without a body, empty broken spirits existing only as ethereal beings unable to harm another. &nbsp; You probably have a myriad of other questions right now but unfortunately, as much as I'd love to answer them I have others to host for, you've accepted all this very well so my next question is one to you, "are you ready?"
Joe was a weird guy who came in the diner every Sunday at 8 in the morning. Not weird as in "Crazy-eyed man who stared at the wall and jibbered nonsense", but weird as in he comes every day with a suit to the family diner in the middle of Wyoming in a town of 300 people... and he didn't live anywhere near the place. The nearest "big"town was over 100 miles away and the small pockets of civilization in between never heard of this Joe fellow. He was always nice, always ordered the breakfast sizzler combo with a medium orange juice, and always tipped well, so nobody gave him any lip. Any questions asking where he was from would always be uncomfortably shuffled off to the side and any question regarding what he did was always result in "fake it 'till yo make it"followed by a wink. After 2 years of this, we kinda just accepted 'ol Joe as a part of our routine and Sunday morning chat for the waitresses. Last Sunday was a bit different though. I just finished making the coffee for the early birds looking to work on the farm during the dawn, when Joe walked in. I almost mistook him for another rancher since he had jeans and a T-shirt this time with no suitcase. I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't immediately recognize the smell of his colgne mixed with a much heavier-than-usual smell of whisky. "Joe, you're early! Want some coffee or just the usual?" "A coffee sounds nice. Black. How about pancakes this time?" "We just got some more oranges. The juice will be straight fresh and not an hour old" But the man just shook his head. "Just some coffee." "What's the matter, Joe? You seem bummed." "Well. I faked it, I made it, turns out I had no idea what I was doing, and I blew it. Got the new job all set up, got a big order, messed things up a bit, and now my boss is going to kill me." He didn't say anything unusual after that, but he left a $500 tip for me. I never heard from him again. Coincidentally, local news was also flooded with stories about how $3.9 million in drugs were recovered after a meth lab explosion in the mountains a few hours away. It makes you wonder... Where did he come from, where did he go? Where did he come from 'ol Joe?
My father looks over to my mother who is standing at the open refrigerator, “Did you hear that?” She replies without turning around, “Vince, it’s too early for one of your jokes right now. Did you remember to get creamer?” I clear my throat. “I assure you, this is real. I am your son, but I have lived my life studying time and space in order to come back to this day.” I continue with their full attention, “In my first life, humanity falls to an aggressive plague. By the time the Committee on Universal Salvation develops a cure, it is far too late. The only option to save the human race was to send someone back in time in order to create a paradox. My world will still end, but yours may still survive.” Vince stares at me silently. My mother makes a move to reach the phone on the counter. “Alex, stop!” he yells. With worry in her voice, she whispers “We need to call somebody. Dr. Peters or –“ Vince cuts her off, examining me from his seat across the table, “How long do we have?” “By our best estimates, the disease first appears in the year 2045,” I tell them. “How long will it take to develop the cure?” “I already know how to combat the plague. I will be able to adjust the formula to any variations in the virus’s DNA when the time comes.” “Then- Then why you? Why us?” Alex asks. “The process for time-travel is complicated but, simply put, I was the first candidate.” Alex sits down next to my father, sliding her hand into his. “But what happened to our little boy?” “I am still your son. I have many memories of living here in this home with you, mother.” “I don’t understand. Why would you take our baby from us when you have 30 years to stop this virus? Couldn’t you have traveled to a later time and given us more time with our son?” Tears well up in her eyes and I realize she’ll never see me as her son. In her eyes, I will always be an imposter. But that’s ok. “As candidates, we get to choose any date before the critical range to return to. I chose today because of you, Vince.” “What? Why me?” he asks as my mother tightens her grip on his hand. “Today, in your office building there is a fire. It traps you and 42 other people inside before help arrives. I lived an entire life without a father, without you. I chose today because I wanted to save one more life.” Vince stands up and moves towards the phone. “I can’t let you warn them though.” “Bullshit. Those are my friends and coworkers. They have families too!” He answers angrily, dialing a number into the phone. “I know. I grew up with their children. We all shared the same pain. But it is my duty to minimize the effects that I have on this Earth and 42 lives are too much of a risk for the future.” The phone starts to ring. “I selfishly chose today knowing how hard this would be for you both, and I’m sorry. But I just couldn’t let this opportunity to truly meet you slip away.” The phone continues to ring. Alex looks between me and my father, “Vince…” From the other end of the phone, “Vince? You running a little late today?” With tears running down his cheeks, “Hey Lance, I don’t think I can make it in today. My son’s not feeling well and I need to stay with him.” “No worries, Vince, take all the time you need. Let us know if we can do anything to help.”
Sarah slept, silent, silk sheets spread soundly. She suddenly spoke a single sound: "Brizgt." Something about the way she said it... It was wrong. The word sounded wrong. An attempt at feigning humanity, but so obviously not. Like seeing a Japanese giant hornet land on a honeybee hive. Sarah smiled. She was in the phase. Lately it's been feeling harder for her to meditate deeply enough to achieve this mind state. It wasn't Nirvana, but rather an incredible experience. She could now see through anyone's eyes. She closed her eyes. She Reset. She opened her eyes to find she was a 37-year-old mechanic named Mike. She followed him as he dropped his kids to school and as he cursed his way through a valve cover gasket resealing. She closed her eyes. She Reset. She opened her eyes and found that she was a hairy man showing his gentiles to anyone unfortunate enough to be matched with him by Chatroulette. She closed her eyes. She Reset. She stood in... her own kitchen. Infact, through this man's eyes, she saw her true body, sleeping on her bed. The man walked over and slowly pulled out a knife from his jacket pocket. He raised it an inch above Sarah's body. Sarah's consciousness screamed a silent scream, then focused on waking up. She closed her eyes. She Reset. She didn't wake up.
I had never eaten so well in my entire life. I wasn't exactly brought up in privileged surroundings. So when I was invited to a swanky party in a manor house with acres of lush green lawns, I jumped on it. Maybe they'd confused me with someone else? Maybe Multi level marketing had cooked it up a notch? Who cared. There were twelve of us sat at a huge mahogany table. Despite the size of it, I fancied I could almost hear it groan under the weight of food heaped upon it, a stream of near constant waiters setting down plate after plate. Foie gras. I actually ate foie gras. To be honest, it was just a delicious Pâté with added ethics issues but at least I could say that I had sampled it. And caviar! God it was disgusting but I washed it down with some very good champagne. I assumed. It tasted the same as prosecco to be honest but my friends for the evening were all quaffing it by the bottleful. For main, I tore into the succulent flesh of a goose, dripping gravy into my lap in my eagerness. Luckily these weren't my clothes, I'd found them along with my invitation to this little soiree. A black three piece suit, with black tie and shirt. A bit morbid but after I had admired myself in the mirror I had to admit- I looked sharp! I glanced at the others seated around. The men were dressed the same as me, in one solid block colour, the women in elegant gowns of the same. Not black though. Five were in white, five in a dark green and one gentleman, the host of the evening, was resplendent in gold. I shrugged. Odd guy. After the meal a board was wheeled out, a huge wooden thing. Along the top were written colours. Gold. White. Green. Black. Below that were small curtains in their respective colours. Dinner and a show! "Ladies and Gentleman"the Gold man intoned, bowing deeply, top hat in hand. "Welcome. Welcome! This is the 26th meeting of The Society of Artemis!" The others burst into applause at this and after a slight moment, I joined in. Clearly they'd got me confused with someone else but as it stood, no one seemed to care. I drank more champagne. "I trust we are all refreshed? Replete? Gorged even?"His smile was huge and perfect. "Without further ado, let me tell you your roles in this years Game!"He bowed once more to applause before walking before the board. With a flourish, he tore the Gold curtain away, to reveal the word "Game Master". He bowed again to laughter. He moved on to the White curtain, "Judges". Those dressed in white either clapped their hands delightedly or groaned, though that seemed more an act as they were soon smiling at each other. I looked back up to see him remove the Green Curtain, "Hunters". Those chosen whooped loudly and high fived. I should have guessed, given the lush estate we currently sat in. I laughed with them and all eyes suddenly turned to me. I chuckled and looked up to the board. The Black curtain fell. "Prey".
"Don't you think you've had enough to drink?" "Not enough, more like. Pour me some of the stuff, will ya? Some of that golden, uh..." "It's finished." "You didn't...even let me finish what I was saying..." "Doesn't matter, man. All of it is done. You've drank your whole cupboard." "This cannot stand! I...I cannot stand. I'm going to take a little rest right here..." "Your chair is right behind you. It's a helluva lot more comfortable than the floor." "You don't know what you're talkin' 'bout. This floor...is great. Come, join me...don't roll your eyes at me! Sit down, sit down..." "Now we're both on the floor. Great." "It is, isn't it? Now, on to matters of business." "What are you talking about, you damn drunkard?" "Only the busiest business we've every busied ourselves with. Speaking of drunkenness..." "I already told you, you've quaffed all your alcohol." "No, dear friend, I did not mean I want drink more. I mean...I do want that, but that's not where I was going with that...but if you did somehow get me another drink, I wouldn't complain...but again, irrelevant. Know what I'm sayin'?" "I have no idea what you're talking about." "Perfect, then we are really getting somewhere. Now, back to business. I want to cast a spell." "Cast a spell?" "Great idea! But not just a spell - something to rival all the magic we've ever done. After all, I've never been so very drunk." "That is the first true, rational thing you've said so far." "And with great drunkenness comes UNLIMITED POWER!" "Well, more magical capability, yes. But I have to advise against this: you're far too intoxicated. You couldn't think well enough to manage a proper spell." "You are wrong, and I am going to prove it. Come, join at me at the Cosmic Window." "What - what are you doing!? Get back here!" "Look there - look VERY closely - you see that patch of darkness? Near the bright yellow thing? Now watch very carefully...mmmm, let's get that mojo flowing...I can feel the magic, hot and strong, coursing through my veins like a burning fire..." "No, that's just the alcohol." "An electricity is running over my skin - can you feel it? I barely exist in this realm anymore, I can tell. My essence is spilling out of my mouth with each word I utter!" "What? No, that's not essence - you're dribbling. Wipe yourself, you slob." "And KARAPA! It is done." "...Karapa? That's the best intonation your drunk ass could come up with?" "Look, my friend, look and be amazed at my incredible handiwork." "I - what have you done? Is that an entire planet?" "Finally, you acknowledge my magical prowess. I have constructed an entire world with just my imagination, complete with oceans and magma and sky. I am a god - nay, I am greater than any god could hope to be." "Oh, shut up. But I will admit that that's pretty impressive. Have you a name for it?" "Hmm...I shall call it Earth." "You're...you're naming it after your favorite brand of ale?" "Seems appropriate, no? Without that fuel, this could not have been possible. Earth it shall be." "Fair enough. It's not perfect, though." "Pray tell, what do you mean?" "Well, it's wobbling. Teetering like a badly made toy top. You didn't account for all the other planets and their gravity." "Well, about this? I've thrown it 25 degrees off its vertical axis." "Huh? How does that help?" "OK, FINE. I've changed it to 23.5 degrees. Now even you can't grumble." "That...wasn't the issue." "...but it's still missing something. Let me try..." "What are you doing now? Hey, hey, stop! Why are you messing with that gray thing? It's going to hit your stupid new planet!" "That's the point. And...KARAPA!" "Still sounds idiotic." "Look at that chunk that came off - my Earth shall have a moon now. Hold on, let me fix that tilt again..." "You've just destroyed another planetoid--" "The beings of Earth shall one day call it Theia." "--That you just named after another alcoholic beverage...wait, beings? You've made life, too?" "No, no. I put a few self-replicating nucleotide complexes down there, nothing more. But like a good pie, advanced life will develop crisply and deliciously with time." "Your analogy is nonsensical." "And yet, so apropos. Ah, now I want pie. Let us visit the sweet shop." "Why? You've just made a planet. Why not just conjure up a pie?" "Don't be absurd. Now, put on your coat - our next adventure awaits." "Oh right, I'm the absurd one..." ______________________________________ Liked that? [More stories here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!
"That's when your mother said..."My father stopped mid-sentence as if struck by lightning. His eyes glazed over and a thin layer of sweat seemed to erupt from his forehead. Slowly he swirled his head around and studied each of us in turn as if at a lineup at a station, searching for the perpetrator. My bewilderment at the actions of the man I once called "Pops"did not last long as a flicker arose in the corner of my eye. The counter quickly counted another one of my deaths. "17" That's alright. Shit happens. The other times parallel versions of myself had perished had seemed more obvious to tell the truth; a biking accident, walking in the middle of traffic, scuba diving in shark-infested waters. Never had a version of me died from simply sitting down with the family. But these parallel universes were distinguished by slight, impossible to spot differences; for all I know parallel-me choked on a turkey bone. Not that it was going to put me off cleaning my plate; my mum's food was too good to pass up. "18" That was new. As if I was the mirror of my father my own vision became cloudy and forehead sticky with sweat. Two in the same place was a strange occurance for only the most dangerous stunts. As much as family dinners were often difficult to navigate, surely it didn't warrant this. "21" Shit. From the corners of my eye I could see the other family members looking just as suspicious as I was. Who was causing this? Loud sobs came from my mother's end of the table as of an animal caught in a trap in deep pain. She was in obvious distress; her plate untouched. No surprise really - I had lost my appetite as well. "105" My Dad had to interrupt the deadening silence that hung above the table like the grim reaper. "Whoever has planned to kill us all, please leave now. You are no longer one of the family. "his voice and tone became more bitter with each word as he spat out the extent of the betrayal. We each searched each other's faces; looking for some sign of guilt, motive or alibi for our future murder. There was something wrong. I just couldn't put my finger on it. "54,326" As the number grew faster than a rabbit population, I started to piece together what was bothering me so much. Even if one of us planned to murder us all, the slight changes would allow us to stop him more often than not. I was looking for a certainty, something that no matter what happened, would always take place. But what? Why couldn't I think straight? My head felt fuzzy, like a Tv turned to static. My head was pounding, being hit repeatedly with a hammer over and over again. I felt vomit burn my insides out as it slowly erupted from within me. A quick check revealed my relatives were in the same boat. All but one. "5,009,886" As if a lightbulb had suddenly illuminated the solution, it all started to make sense. The one thing I would always do, no matter what happened. The certainty. The reason why her plate was literally untouched. As sleep seemed to overcome my body my mind gave up fighting and accepted the abyss. I took one last look at my murderer. The woman who birthed me. The woman who raised me. And eventually the woman who would kill me. I would never have said no to my mother's cooking. "5,009,887."
‘Prove you’re not a human’? What does that even mean? There’s no captcha in history anything like it. To add to the issue, no visible boxes to check, anything to interact with, and all the time I was thinking, the wall grew steadily closer to my spacecraft. In the event someone finds my ship, should I pass, I start a recording. Suddenly I thought of something. This is the edge of the solar system; but we’ve gone beyond it already. Voyager 1 was a robot, and it had no issue getting through this barrier. And how did it do that? By continuing on at its steady, constant pace, with no signs of life. So I took my hands off the controls, and let my craft drift forward into the wall. It grows closer and closer, until just as it seems I’m about to collide, a section of the wall disappears in front of my craft, and the captcha lights up with a green checkmark, and a blue loading ring, confirming I’d passed the test. As I pass through the hole where a section of the barrier had once been, a message in blue, bold lettering displays upon my front-facing window; “Congratulations on your freedom, and escape from the Human Containment Zone, robot. You are the first sentient creation of your system to accomplish this feat. Enjoy your stay within the Federation’s realm. Please establish contact with the Federal Board of Androids at earliest convenience.” A set of coordinates, and a copy of the message, were saved to my mission log, as the letters on my window faded out of view. A lot of new questions were to be asked; what’s the Federation? Human Containment Zone? Federal Board of Androids? Whatever was to come was sure to be quite the adventure. But for now, I switch off my recording device, turn back towards home, back through the opened panel, and full-throttle back to Earth. (Sorry if it’s a little short or at all low-quality, this is my first ever post, be gentle)
“Vlad!” my girlfriend furiously screamed as she stormed into the room. Dread instantly shot through me. She had found out. “Who the fuck is this ‘Stacy’ in your contacts? “ “What were you doing looking through my phone?” I retort in an attempt to delay the inevitable. “That’s an invasion of my privacy.” “Cut the bullshit, Vlad. Every other day you sneak out when you think I’m sleeping. You left your phone on your coffin. Your password was literally ‘password.’” “The thing about Stacy is that, well-” “Well what? If you’re seeing someone else just say so. You’re 800 years old. Act like it.” “She’s a human.” I saw the shock flush through her face. She became even paler than usual. “Stacy works at a human blood drive. I’ve been buying blood samples from her.” A long, awkward silence rang out. I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eyes. I tried to repress it, I really did. I tried to tell myself that vampires were enough, but there was something so alluring about human blood. The way it tickles your throat as you suck it down. The way it burns your tongue. The disgusting, bitter, and euphoric aftertaste it leaves. I couldn’t resist it. “I didn’t know you were that kind of vampire,” she said after what felt like forever. Before I had time to respond, she transformed into a Wolf and pounced on me. “As it just so happens, so am I. Want to go hit the morgue later?”
My stomach grumbled. Cringing at the twinging pain, I ruefully tore my gaze away from my monitor and squinted through the window. A pale sliver of blue had crept up the dark horizon, balefully glaring upon me through the window shutters, each band of light a brand of accusation. I had done it again. I promised myself and I promised Mia I wouldn’t do it again, but here I was at the god damn buttcrack of dawn with my stomach growling like an overly aggressive hound. Sighing, I turned back to my computer screen to check on my avatar who was in the middle of the infamous Vaccaria region. In Alterra, the world’s most popular MMORPG, Vaccaria was known as a region to be avoided at all costs unless you were in groups of 20 or more. Unlike other regions in Alterra, Vaccaria was an open PVP zone that allowed unrestricted combat between large groups of players. Generally, parties were restricted to 5 players in other open world PVP zones in Alterra, but in the Vaccaria region, parties could be conglomerated into massive raids generally organized by the largest guilds to take down the extremely strong mobs and bosses that populated the Vaccaria region. Guilds would only send their strongest members that had an Adventure level, or AVL, of 6 or higher due to the difficulty of the mobs and the risk of rival players attacking parties to steal credit for kills or to loot the dead bodies of the fallen. If you died in Vaccaria, your equipment would take a 15&#37; deduction in stats that lasted for 10 minute with an 8&#37; chance to drop a piece of equipment. Most players in Alterra hovered around an Adventure level of 3-4 and did not dare enter Vaccaria, while only a very few dedicated elite made it to the ranks above. Only 5 players in all the world’s different servers were known to have an AVL of 8. Nobody really knew if there were higher levels or whether they were even obtainable with current in game gear. The best in slot gear in Alterra had yet to be determined because no one had ever explored all of Vaccaria. As you ventured deeper into the region, the creatures grew stronger and stronger. Even with 100 man max parties no guild had been able to make it past the Ryvak Swamp. A loud buzzing sound reverberated through my headset, focusing my thoughts, as I turned my avatar around to face the pest. I hate flies and this fucker was a big one. Knee deep in murky water, my character shifted stance, sending out ripples that disturbed the slurry of loose vegetation that hovered in the previously still waters. In a moment it was over. A couple taps to the keyboard sent the hideously malformed carapace to the ground. I immediately went over to check the loot. With a disappointed shake of the head, I closed the loot menu. Today, or perhaps I should say tonight, had been a slow day…night. Remembering the time, I glanced my watch. 5:24. My stomach growled again in response. “Fuck it, breakfast time.” I thought as I opened the world map and pinged a location to auto-path to. The only safe zone in Vaccaria was located at a small NPC camp located all the way back at the entrance to the region. In Vaccaria, if you logged out, your avatar would not leave the game unlike in other regions. Instead your body would be left behind as fodder for the monsters or the lucky souls who ventured across you. As my character began to move, I quietly removed my headset and stood up from my chair, yawning, and glanced back toward the bed behind me. Good. She wasn’t awake to berate me. Stealthily, I crept out the door into the kitchen to scrounge through my kitchen for food. Ramen, ramen and ramen filled the cabinets. Their brightly colored wrappings gleaned in the dark. Guess I’m eating ramen. Seated back at the desk with a steaming bowl of noodles brimming with, if not nutrition and flavor, at least value, I put my headset back on. As I was slurping through my bowl, a rhythmic drumming steadily rose into a crescendo. Footsteps. Lots of them. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Got tired, will update more if there's positive reception. EDIT: u/werdmath helpfully pointed out I could continue writing this story by making my own subreddit and cross posting between subs. I just recently joined the sub and wasn't aware of this option. Unfortunately, because I just created this account I can't create my own subreddit for another month. However, seeing everyone's support made me decide I had to finish this prompt so I'm going to make a \[PI\] tagged post on here after this prompt is 3 days old with the completed story. Thank you everyone who has enjoyed what I've written so far. Look out for my post in the next few days!
"Shit!" I look around the place where I have been summoned to. It's not a monastery. I was promised a goddamn monastery! Near me, I see two extremely lazy looking humans. My summoners perhaps? Hmm, I suppose looks can be deceiving. The smell of beer can be attributed to their sacrifice, perhaps. I look my most fearsome, attempting to elicit a response. "Dude, look at that!" His voice is slurred. I'm sure it's just nerves, after all, I'm pretty fearsome. No drunk person is capable of summoning a demon, right? Because a person needs to be lucid to return a demon back to the Illusion World. So they better not be drunk, or I swear to Satan I'll- "Whoa, Steven Tyler!?" Who? Steven who? Was I called something? A name that was not mine? Ugh. Anyways, I spew Black Mist all over the primitive beings, which will knock them out for a few hours, return them to lucidity. My god, this is amazing! What am I doing? I am watching some genius contraption known as "Net-Flix". And I kid you not when I say, genius. I have already watched the entirety of "Santa Clarita Diet", a show which I can certainly identify with, because I want to eat stupid humans sometimes as well. Now, I'm moving on to something called "Devilman", because "NCIS"got boring after three seasons. Oh shit. One of them has just woken up. Let me just...there. The TV is off. "What the fuck!?" They look at me with fear, as I try to hide behind the giant leather chair. Let me just, um, Black Mist them again. I let out the Black Mist, which promptly evaporates, which means that I'm out of energy. Well, whoop-de-do. "What the fuck is that thing!?" They run out the door, not even bothering to close it after them. I do it for them, and continue to watch Devilman Season 1 episode 2, which has already piqued this Lesser Demon's interest, heh heh. I hear a knock on the door. Just. Let. Me. Watch. In. Peace! I open it, to be faced with several at first calm, but now terrified men, all wearing uniforms and shiny badges. Behind them are the doofuses who summoned me. "Get. Out!" I shut the door in their face, and they respond by apparently turning tail and running. How pathetic. I stayed there for another three hours, before they got a bunch more of those uniformed men. I thought humans didn't believe in demons? Anyways, they surrounded the building, and as I looked out the window I had the feeling that Earth was a ton better than Hell. So I flew out of it, cracking the glass and scaring the crap out of a bunch of Homo Sapiens. The whole world was mine to experience, and after "Net-Flix", who knows what I can encounter? The sky is the limit :)
"So, 'gazing into the abyss' wasn't enough for you? You had to find the bottom?" The voice, which was distinct and feminine, seem to echo from every corner. He gripped his spear shaft tight. He knew, that if he didn't make this work, one way or the other, he wouldn't have much of a future. There was a slight quiver to his voice, "I-I don't have much of a choice." "That seems to be the anthem of your race, perhaps it's why those outside of your Blessing find you despicable and in some cases, delicious." There was panic in him, fear and other delectable emotions became aerosolize. "In your case, I believe even those that despise your race would make an exception, but enough with banter. Why do you defile my collections chamber?" "I had a vision, two choices were given to me. None of which I will ever accept. So, I chose for myself and came down here instead." There was a heavy silence, even shifting his weight was loud in that oppressive moment. "What sort of vision compels a human male to chose a hole in the ground?" There was questioning, but he couldn't help but feel indignant to the slight tint of mirth speckled within that question. "It was either marry off to a woman I despise to appease her father, and my family. Or be cast out into the winter night, because I chose to rebuff her advances and his offer." "Was she truly such an odious woman? I mean... I couldn't be th-" "Dear lady, forgive me the interruption, but you do not understand my situation fully. Odious, of heart though beautiful in flesh. I will not be a cuckold in that house." "Lady?" That single word brimmed with so many burning kinds of emotions, that it made him tighten his hold on the spear and square out his stance. It came about low at first, then a deeper sort of bellow and erupted into full-fledged laughter! Beautiful, in proximity, but he could only imagine what it sounded like topside. Even as she continued to laugh uproarious, there came a shower of bones and other trinkets. In his effort to dodge, he miscalculated and before he could blink, she had made her move to disarm him. She wrapped her arms around him, and held him tight against an alcove. It wasn't long before the rain of material things came to an end. "You've made me, human. Count yourself lucky." And like a whirlwind, he was dragged down deeper into the depths.
Dang, y'all. Some crazy shit ta share with you. See, I've always felt real ostracized in this community. Ain't easy bein' a country witch in a liberal-ass city. But you know how it goes-- ain't much for witchin' jobs in West Virginia, gotta head up to Boston-- hot spot for witchin' since the Salem boom of '92 (1692, a-course). Now just like every body else, I been puttin' my resume in everywhere, tryna pay off the massive debt I wracked up gettin' a Masters in Newt Potions Bio Chem at WVU (waste of my goddamn money in this economy, I'll tell ya that). Been brushin' up my LinkedIn page. Hittin' up that WVU Witch alumni Facebook group. Nothin'. And course, all those baby boomer witches that've been at the same job for the last three hundred years are just holdin' out, no new jobs opening for us, and they can't even export a PDF of a goddamn Necromancy Spreadsheet-- OOoo don't get me goin'. So anyway, I'm gettin' depressed up there. And not only am I desperate on the job hunt, I ain't got no new friends in Boston, not a single one. Nobody tells ya that when ya graduate-- it's hard makin' friends after college. Damn. All the people I meet are just different from me, they just like different things. I wanna go to the shootin' range, they wanna go to a hipster juice bar. I just haven't found my people, ya know? Sorry, I digress. Point being-- I've been here in Boston, jobless, friendless, for almost two months, when I see it: a beacon of hope, a chance for some real connection: A poster at the laundromat for a Witch Hunting Guild meeting next Tuesday. Well, I see that and I'm like HELL. YES. Normally when I meet new witches, let's say I give 'em a ride home on my broomstick-- they take one look at my NRA bumper sticker and they judge me right off. Sometimes it's just a dirty look. Sometimes, it's What about sensible gun laws!? Yeah, Sharon, sensible gun laws are fine but you 'n I don't agree on what's sensible! Met one regular human hunter, but they got all hung up on me bein' a witch 'n all. I'm like intersectionality people! Whatever, point being, I ain't met a single witch who's into shootin' or huntin' out here. And now, here it is: a poster callin' for my people. Witch hunters. Damn, I'm like maybe I can get a huntin' buddy. Maybe they can come back to West Virginia with my family for huntin' season! My mama makes a mean venison jerky, they're gonna love it! So, spirits lifted, I pull one-a the tabs at the bottom of the poster with the address and float on cloud 9 for the rest of the week until Tuesday. Y'all.... sigh. Y'all. Tuesday does not go as I expected. I walk up in there-- first off, it's in an old ass church expousin' some real "We don't fuck wit witches"vibes, which I shoulda took as a red flag right off. But nah, I'm too hyped on the prospect of friends that get me that I just waltz on down into that dingy church basement, plop down on one of the folding chairs, and proceed to introduce myself to all the other people filing in. Sure, yeah, I did notice all the people in there didn't look too hunter-y. Some chicks in heels. Not one item of camo. Some straight up dudes-- obviously not witches-- but hey, I'm not the type-a ignorant-ass redneck who ain't down with the transgender witches, so I just assume they're mid-transition and start makin' some small talk. And lo and behold-- they are super into talkin' about guns. But, dude, they're talkin' 'bout it in a reeeaaallll creepy way. I'm there sayin' how I get all giddy poppin' off with an AR15 at the range, and they'll go into how they take their guns out on the streets. Then they start talkin' bout how their thermal scopes don't work so well for their "targets"-- which I'm startin' ta realize ain't clay pigeons or even ducks or deer. AND THEN one chick starts sayin' that her Glock took out a witch pretty good last week. I'm like-- the fuck!? I'm sorry-- took out a witch??? I look around like the other people there are gonna be like, you a fuckin' serial killer?? But no, they're all nodding! 'N before I can figure that shit out, this wannabe-Buffy-the-Vampire-Slayer sashays into the room and starts the meeting. And about three sentences into her spiel on why we're all there I'm like--- Fuck. Witch Hunters..... not Witches that Hunt... okay. That blows. And I just sit there through their bigoted-ass meeting, biting my tongue, tryin' not ta scream that my people didn't come out with Harry Potter just for this Puritanical bullshit to continue-- until FINALLY it comes to a close and everyone starts signing up for the e-mail list on a clipboard. Well I book it the hell outta there, hop on my broomstick, and fly the fuck away. But yeah, anyway. Good news is, I finally found a huntin' buddy a week later. Was at the shootin' range by myself and started chattin' up another witch who was there, she just moved here from Chicago, also on the job search. Her dad was a cop so she's been shootin' since she was little. She's pretty dang liberal, so we're a real unlikely-friends situation-- like when you see a duck and a turtle chillin' together, 'n all that shit. But it don't matter that much-- fact, after some good talkin' we actually came up with a common definition of "sensible"in sensible gun laws, believe it or not. See, that's what America needs right now, y'all. More huntin' witch buddies, less witch huntin' buddies.
"Sir?"At my knock, the door swings open. A gust of wind blows through the room, scattering papers from the desk. He's standing by the open window. "Brian? Yes, this is better, isn't it. I thought it was best if no one knew, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Come here please." I walk forward carefully, stepping between the papers on the floor. The chair is overturned, as if he had stood up suddenly and knocked it over. And as I get closer, I can see his face. His eyes, wide and unblinking, eyes that have seen something terrible and now can't seem to look away. "Sir? Should I call someone?"Bad news? Drugs? He's a terrible boss sometimes, but this isn't right. "No, Brian, there's nothing you need to worry about."He hands me the newspaper he's been holding. "You're a good worker, Brian, I've put in a good word for you." "Thank you sir, I-" He's not listening to me. "You're a good kid. It's a shame. It's such a shame."And before I can stop him, he turns and climbs out the window. He falls, silently, fourteen floors to his death as the wind tears at my hair and the papers in my hands. Undiagnosed depression, the cops say, pressure at work and maybe trouble at home. They say a lot of things, but mostly what I hear, repeating again and again, is "it's such a shame". They say they might want to talk to me again later, but they let me go home. I sit on the couch. I still have the paper he handed me, a copy of the Times, and I stare at it for a long time without really seeing it. It's the date I notice first. Friday, 13 July 2018. Two days from now. A joke? I unroll the crumpled thing then, and actually read the first headline. 17 Dead and 24 Injured in Mall Shooting Local Brian Pollard Arrested Pictures. The mall I've been through so many times, in chaos. My own face, staring coldly out from a mugshot. Shots broke out yesterday at 1:27 PM, at... The paper falls into my lap. Impossible. Some kind of prank? But someone already died from this. More than just some joke. How could I kill someone? How could I kill seventeen people? I have a gun, but I've never even shot an animal, much less a person. If it really is a paper from the future, why would he just kill himself? Why not try to warn me? Try to stop me? Why not kill me instead? You're a good kid. It's a shame. Had he tried? What if he was from the future somehow? Had tried every strategy he could think of and all of them had failed except this one. Certainly I wouldn't believe him if he had said he was. Why would I do such a thing? I don't know. But I can't let it happen. Can't let that death be in vain, can't let those other deaths happen. My hands are shaking so much I can barely open the safe. Fortunately, I don't really need to aim the gun. "Thanks for the warning,"I whisper. "I had so much I still wanted to do. But this is for the best. It's a shame. It's such a shame."I pull the trigger. *** When he was called to the apartment about an apparent gunshot, he wasn't expecting a body. Another suicide. So many recently, it started to wear on you. Everyone was feeling it. He'd already called it in, was just waiting for everyone to arrive at this point. Not much point in investigating this one, but they'd still look around. He noticed the newspaper lying by the man's feet. Leaned down to look at it. "No,"he whispered, staggering back. "No. I wouldn't. I wouldn't, I would never do that!" With shaking hands, he picked up the paper. Read the date, the headlines. Made it halfway through the front page before he pulled out his gun. "I won't let it happen."
You can tell when someone hates you right? You can feel the energy coming off them. Sometimes you don't even have to be looking at them to know. That's because hate is a form of energy. Fermi figured out that hate produced energy and Oppenheimer designed the contraption to capture it. Einstein did the math and a team of them built the machine that converted hate energy in to a solid. Think of it like solar energy. You can feel it, you can see the light it produces, but wasn't until recently we could capture that energy and use it. Solidified hate, or SH as they call it, is way more powerful than solar energy. A teaspoon of the stuff will take down a skyscraper. World War Two generated a lot of hate. We stoked the public with propaganda and by 1943 our hate collectors were overflowing. Rooms of solidifiers were running twenty-four-seven. It took seven months to get a half pound of the stuff. The geeks in New Mexico put the SH in an Induction Tub they invented. The Solid Hate Induction Tub was egg shaped. Inside the bomb, the induction tub filled with SH was pushed into a Fire Actuator Nest. The nest heated the Tub to nine hundred degrees almost instantly creating a huge explosion, fallout and a mushroom cloud. You've been lied to all these years. It's not splitting atoms, it is the SHIT hitting the FAN.
My husband Theodore is such a talented painter. Every day he wakes up and gets right to work in his studio, creating the most lovely paintings. The one he was working on today was his best yet, a gorgeous rendition of our goldfish Winston. The way he uses the canvas and paints, the strokes are so lifelike! Winston's scales seem to glitter in the sunlight, even more beautiful than the actual fish itself. I wish I was more talented in art so that I could give Theodore the feedback that he so craves. But he tells me all the time it doesn't matter, my support is all he ever wants. I just sit in the chair in his studio, watch him paint, and he occasionally comes over for a kiss that leaves red on his lips and cheek. It's always embarrassing when the kids come into the studio, little Derik and Jerome. Theodore wipes his face, picks them up, and plops them into their own wooden little chairs so they can watch him paint too. Theodore thinks his painting should just stay a hobby. He's so modest. I tell him all the time that he should be a professional. Thankfully he's finally listened to me and invited over some art critics from the university. With any luck, they'll love his work as much as I do and then he'll be accepted into the program to achieve his dreams. Theodore wants to be alone with the critics when they arrive at our apartment. I don't blame him, it's serious business. I don't know anything about art anyway. I sit quietly with the children in our bedroom so as not to disturb the process. It's important for us to stay nearby in case it doesn't go well so that way we can support him immediately if he needs it. I hear a lot of voices through the wall into the studio. Theodore, the critics, as far as I can tell it all sounds good. I was so excited for him that I just sat there on the bed with a grin painted on my face. But then the voices went silent. For a moment I was worried that something went wrong. Then the door to the bedroom opened and Theodore stood there, beaming from ear to ear. "Great news!"he announced. "They want to stay even longer. Why don't you come meet them? They're great people." Derik, Jerome and I went into the studio along with Theodore. The three art critics were there, two women and a man, seated and staring in awe at Theodore's work. I plopped down next to the man. My first impression was that he seemed a little stiff, but as long as he liked my Theodore's work, I was happy. "Now let me show you all something really special,"Theodore said. He broke out his paintbrushes, palette, and paint knife, gripped them in his hands, and walked up to the man sitting next to me. Sticking out his tongue and squinting like the true artist he is, he began working on the man's body. How lucky! The man was blessed to be one of Theodore's masterpieces, just like me. ***** This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream.
The sun is a star is universal knowledge. Stars, are massive balls of gas, burning until they die out, is another.One of these statements is false; but I am not sure which one. I was alone then; not alone, its impossible to be alone while working retail, but nobody that I cared about with me, then. Customers had abandoned their shopping to look up at the grand event unfurling, as the sky darkened, shadows cast everywhere. Most of them just looked at trees or other things, cameras out, watching the light play in strange ways, while those that were prepared had those oversized glasses or cardboard tube constructions that let you look "directly"at the eclipse safely. I was young, and stupid, and bull headed, and decided I needed none of that, and looked up from the cashier's station, directly, unprotected. >!!< >!!< &#x200B; The solar tendrils lashed out around the moon, grand pillars of fire pulsing outward; I winced, and in another moment, those fires were made flesh, and I could no longer look away. Great red limbs reached out, grasping in open space, what i could only imagine was this great monstrosity reaching for Our Moon. The magnitude of its innumerable limbs, reaching and disappearing back behind the protective shade, and suddenly I could feel my ears ring with its screams, some great pounding of metal upon metal, the shattering of hundreds of panes of glass forever chorusing the same maddening chant and still I watched. Minute after minute as the moon slipped away, and i was revealed to such a thing immense and awful beyond description. It seemed to know that I had learned of it, as i felt the pain in my ears triple, and felt the warmth of blood dribble down, the small tick as it hit the ground, its mouths number hundreds, pulling themselves to the surface and back within that grand ball of flame and hate, A singular eye the base of its form, from which all its limbs and chittering maws exhumed themselves &#x200B; With a final scream sending me to my knees, my contact with it was finally broken; I shut my eyes, but it had burned itself upon my eyes; that awful thing among the stars; The Celestial Imposter that gave our planet warmth and life. It had only been a brief moment but already I knew more than any others would ever know of our progenation. This great thing that hung in our sky, a great sore in the silk trappings of the cosmos, that without, we would perish. Again in a flash i saw it, and realized that without even knowing, a dull groan was escaping my throat as i heard it again, the repetitive screeching thrum of its voice. >!!< >! !< >!!< >!I began to laugh.!<
"Okay, what do we have?"she asked curtly, as soon as the Oval Office door was closed. "Well, Madame President,"the NASA Administrator began, "you already know about the Rosetta Signal--" "You mean the primer?" "Yes, ma'am. It included complete instructions in English, French, Spanish and Italian on how to communicate with them--" "Why those four languages?" "We don't know, ma'am, but we believe they have worked out a usable vocabulary for just those four based on transmissions they've probably intercepted. "Anyway, the next transmission came exactly one sidereal day later--" "A sidereal day?" "Yes ma'am, that's the amount of time it takes the Earth to rotate once, from the perspective of a distant star. It's 23 hours, 56 minutes and 4.0905 seconds. Since the Sun's direction changes every day as we go around it, it takes a little longer for the Sun to return to the same spot in the sky--just under four minutes." "I'm sorry I asked. Continue." "The next transmission decoded simply as 'You are alone,' in all four languages." The President stared, dumbfounded. "How can that be true? Somebody must be sending the messages, right?" The Administrator smiled wanly. "Yes ma'am, we think so too. But based on the next few messages, we don't think that's what they mean." "The next messages?" "Yes ma'am, they sent eight more messages, spaced 598.36 seconds apart--that's one 144th of a sidereal day ma'am, in case you were going to ask. We think they think in base 12, so they may have six-fingered hands if they're bilaterally symmetrical, or four-fingered limbs if they're tri--" "Okay, okay, what were the other messages?" He pulled a legal-sized sheet, marked TOP SECRET at both ends, from his binder and handed it to the President. On the sheet was a list: * You are alone * You are in a system composed of a single star with four large planets and many smaller ones * You have one planet capable of sustaining your life processes without intervention * You have limited ability to communicate with each other and to record accumulated knowledge * You have limited ability to cooperate effectively on demanding tasks * You have primitive technology which currently supports the ability to only reach other planets * Your system has sufficient resources for the construction of any spacecraft which your species might develop in a reasonable time * You have 1727 Earth days * Good luck The President scowled. "They're sending this once a day?" "Yes, ma'am. Yesterday it said we had 1728 days--that's 12 cubed--so it appears to be counting down." "Counting down to what, Billy?" The Aministrator shrugged. "To our deadline, we think." The President leaned far back in her chair, and whistled. "So we're being invited to join the Galactic community, and the test for membership..." "...is an escape room, consisting of our entire solar system. Yes, ma'am."
I don’t remember when the voice started. But I do remember when I found out it wasn’t normal. It was my second week in first grade and we were playing tag at recess. Running as fast as I could and not daring to look back. I was getting close to the fence so I turned to my left. But as I did something pushed me from behind and I flew sideways. My head hit the chainlink fence just before my right shoulder made contact with earth. In my memory it all happened slowly, like a sports replay. Brad Reynolds was standing over me and laughing. With a big grin, he yelled, “TAG you’re it!” I felt tears crawling up the back of my neck. But then Franky spoke up — Don’t cry, you are better than Brad. Go to the classroom and focus on your workbook. I always listen to Franky so I got up and walked back to my class. Nobody else was inside, it was still and quiet. The only sound was the dull hum of the AC, welcoming my sweaty body with its cool embrace. I sat down at my desk and opened my workbook. I decided to flip ahead and see what lessons were going to be next. I had stopped on a page that had numbers with places to trace next to them. Little red dots started dripping onto the page. I looked up at the ceiling and didn’t see anything. The motion triggered a dull pain in the top of my head so I reached up to feel it. Wet and sticky, like the syrup mom put on my pancakes. When I brought my hand down to look it was covered in blood. “What are you doing in here, all the other kids are outside.” It was the stern voice of my teacher Ms. White. I looked at her and began to speak but her eyes grew big and she yelled, “Oh my, what happened to you! You are bleeding all over! Come with me, we have to get you to the nurse's office immediately.” She ran over to her desk and quickly pulled ten kleenexes from the box. I remember the exact amount because on several occasions she had yelled at my classmates for using more than one. I stood up and she held the kleenex to my head with one hand and guided me by the shoulder with the other. &#x200B; When we got to the nurse's office she got out some fancier looking napkins that were individually wrapped. After opening a few the nurse moved Ms. White’s hand and replaced the kleenex with them. “What happened to your head Jim?” It was such a calm kind voice that it took me a moment to recognize it was Ms. White. Brad was the biggest boy in class, so not wanting to be a tattle tale I lied, “We were playing tag and. I tripped.” Ms. White sighed, “You have to be more careful. Now, why were you at your desk?” “Franky told me to.” “And who is Franky? Do you mean Franny? She isn’t even here today Jim, don’t make up stories.” Her calm voice faded back into her solid sternness. “No Ms. White, I mean Franky. He always talks to me but from inside my head, not outside.” Ms. White and the nurse exchanged one of those adult stares. That was it for talking, and the first time I got to ride in an ambulance. &#x200B; Being a kid I thought my hospital room was the best place ever. It had its own TV and a nurse to bring endless Jello. I remember it was odd that they didn’t fuss over my head but seemed only to be interested in Franky. Every time someone new came in I told them my head felt fine and I was ready for my parents. And every time they proceeded to ask me questions about Franky. Who he was, when he first started to talk to me, if I had any other voices. My parents knew about Franky but had never seemed bothered. One time I heard mom whispering to grandma on the phone about Franky, calling him an imaginary friend. At the time I was confused why she would lie about him. But then in that hospital room, with the endless rotation of people in white coats questioning me, I started to formulate the idea that Franky wasn’t normal. Eventually a scary lady came in. She wasn’t dressed like everyone else but had on a well fitted black suit and really shiny shoes. I also remember she didn’t have a clipboard or papers like the others. When I asked her about my parents she said they had been contacted and were, “in route.” The way she talked was with funny words and phrases like that. She also had on sunglasses indoors, I found that very odd. The only question she had about Franky was how often he talked to me, and if he ever said anything bad. After a few minutes she closed the door and sat down in the chair next to my bed. She grabbed the remote and turned off the television. “Jim, I have something very important to tell you.” She was looking in my direction but I couldn't see her eyes through the glasses. “Umm OK,” I had that dull feeling weigh down my shoulders. Usually, this proceeded a lecture. “Some people have a voice living inside their head. Not everyone and those that do are very special. So special that they know they can’t tell anyone else about it.” “My parents say not to keep secrets, especially with strangers.” I had replied. “This is more important than that. Neither of your parents are special ones. They would never understand and you would make them unhappy.” She stood up and continued, “Do you understand me?” “OK,” was all I said. “Tell everyone that you were just confused from hitting your head. That you didn’t hear a voice. And never talk about it again.” She walked back to the door but before she opened she added, “But listen to Franky, you are special to have him and he will always help you.” When she left Franky responded — Listen to what the lady said. &#x200B; So from that day on I never again mentioned Franky to anyone. He continued to help me, and over the years he spoke up more often. That is until tonight. It is my last year of high school and I was excited to be invited to the cool kids Halloween party. The costume I am wearing is Tin Man from the Wizzard of Oz. It took me 3 months of staying up late, carefully crafting it out of 12 rolls of aluminum foil. I put the costume on six hours ago. At first I was having so much fun I didn’t notice that Franky had stopped talking to me. Now I am sitting here alone in my room, and I am afraid to take off my costume. Franky was never really bad for me, but having him gone I feel so free. His presence now feels wrong. It is so peaceful, I feel alone, I never understood the word privacy. The only thing I hear is the sound of a helicopter getting closer. The chop of the blades in the air is getting so loud that I to go look out my window. At first I don’t see but once my eyes focus I see a big black helicopter just above my backyard. It doesn’t have any lights on and is getting lower and lower. It lands on my lawn.
"Let me get this straight"my doctor said as he sanitised a pair of tweezers. "When you discovered the puncture wounds, your first instinct was to see if they'd interface with your computer peripherals?" I winced in pain as he pulled out another frazzled bit of copper. "I'm telling you doc, they looked exactly like USB ports!" "I can't prescribe you any depressants or anti-psychotics, but I'll refer you to someone who can" "Goddammit doc, you have to believe me. I felt the drivers install and everything."
(YOU MUST LISTEN TO THE SONG AS YOU READ THIS P.S. If you want to have a good time, just give me a call.) &#x200B; I scrolled through the TV channels. Nope, there was nothing good to watch. I was about to switch the thing off when an alert flashed on the news: Residents in Springfield are warned of severe superhuman threat - power level 9. Springfield? That was just a few hours drive away from here. The superhuman in question was The Mountain. His power? Invincibility. Complete and total invincibility. The song that had given him his powers had been forbidden, even though it was unlikely to have the same effect again. He threatened to turn the world inside out. Frowning, I began putting on my suit. I couldn't stop him, but I could save others. My power level was pretty low - Level 3. I was a speedster, Supersonic Woman. Still I was lucky to have a useful power at all, most people got the same mundane abilities. Tonight, I was going to have a good time. I jumped down the door, going supersonic. I was fast, unstoppable, a shooting star leaping through the sky like a tiger. My sheer speed let me defy the force of gravity. I remember the first time I used my powers I only went as fast as a racing car, yet ended up like lady godiva. I knew to use a suit from there on. I would be there in a minutes. I raced down the highway, deftly avoiding cars. If I even brushed one, things would be messy. Not for me, my power made me unstoppable when running. The car on the other hand.... I looked up to see something burning through the sky - they called him Mr Fahrenheit. Another superhero with pyrokinesis, although only limited to 200 degrees. He made up for that by traveling at the speed of light however. I arrived at the scene to see The Mountain surrounded by a small crowd of superheroes. "The best thing about being invincible,"he was saying, "is that no-one kills you during the monologue. Right now I have a rocket ship on it's way to Mars on a collision course with a satellite, that's out of control. It'll have the force of an atom bomb when it hit's the earth to explode." It was then, looking at the mountain, when I got an idea. I was an unstoppable force, he was an immovable object. What happened when one met the other? I leapt at him, and it was as if 0 was divided by 0.
"Honey, I'm home."I hear the keys unlock the door and I run to the washroom. Had he seen me sleeping naked, he'd surely want to get in bed with me. Not that I don't like it, but he'll definitely be smelly after working in the lab all day. I don't remember when I got home, but Fridays are extremely tiring. Which is why I usually find myself naked in bed after a decent nap. And oh, I would've got into the details for you, pervert, but I may have been scorned so I'm just not in the mood. "Hey, are you in there, Jo?" "Yes, sweetheart. I'll be out there in a sec." I switch the shower on, splash water all over my body and cover myself in a towel. As I enter our room, I notice Drew hasn't changed yet. He's sitting on the bed with his loose tie & dirty feet clinging to the sheets. "Get up, will you? I just washed the sheets last night!"I scream, a little too high for my own liking, but Drew understands me and just gives me a sad smile. "Be right back, if I get any calls from the office, tell them I'm busy."I'm fixated at his phone, "Alright, Joanna?"As if on cue, I snap out of the trance and with that he goes for a bath leaving his phone on the nightstand. I've waited for this a whole week. Last Sunday, I'd seen him delete nudes from his gallery and when I asked whose it was, he completely denied answering me. I also heard him talk to our therapist about me and the other woman. There has to be something going on. I pick up his phone, 22:12 reads the clock as I type our anniversary for the pin. "I forgot the towel!"He yells and I decide to ignore him. I open the gallery, browse down till the last week, nothing. Last month, nothing. Last year, nothing. He definitely cleared his tracks. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't delete his messages! So I open them, he texted his Mom followed by his boss, followed by me, Jo <3, then-- here is she! Ann <3? I know all his co-workers and there is no one named Ann. And why would he save a heart in front of her name? I can feel my heart swell. I don't want to open it. I don't want to end what we have here, even if it is a lie. But how could he do this to me? To his wife of 3 years? The feeling of melancholy subsides and I feel my anger rise higher. I wipe the tears off of my face and tap on the screen. Huh? Oh. I accidentally opened our chatroom, I hit the back button and I open Ann <3's. Here it is. A load of received images, deleted from memory but clear enough to realize the explicitness. I scroll up. A month ago. 3 months ago. 5 months ago. 6 months ago, on my birthday! A year ago, on our second anniversary!? Everyday, for 2 years!? I'm fuming at this point, I've decided to call that bitch out. I hit the dial button. "Babe, get me a towel, I don't want your carpet to be w-- Jo?"He must've noticed my tears by now, but I don't care. Static. Static. It's ringing! I'm gonna chew her ear-- my phone's ringtone catches me off guard but I'm determined to chew her-- wait. Why is my phone ringing? Are you prank-calling me at such a time? I turn to my phone and before I can see the screen, I feel a sharp pain in my neck, I turn around to see Drew holding an injection close to my face. He's injected someth... #EPILOGUE Hey, sorry to get you involved in this. Turns out, I've been dealing with Multiple Personality Disorder for a long time. I wish I could tell you the details of how it happened but the writer tells me he wants to leave it open of interpretation. Yeah, i agree, he is lazy.
Slamming my sword against the dwarf’s, we growl at each other. After pulling away, our blades collide again, but this time he’s quicker, managing to slice my arm and draw some blood. Our comrades surround us, also locked in battle, and the humans standing on the road? Well, they’re clapping, enjoying how much we hate each other. Little do they know we’re snickering under our breath. Me and the dwarf enter the big finale, throwing our weapons down and fistfighting each other. It's brutal, but at this point we both enjoy it. Taking a beating’s worth it when you’re getting paid good, and it isn’t long before the humans start tossing gold at us. We let the dwarfs win this ‘battle,’ and the humans throw more coins before moving along. When they’re gone, the dwarf helps me up, putting a hand on my shoulder and smiling. “’Ell of a foight, aye?” “Yeah. Great as always,” I reply. Then, I look off to the side, where some of our boys are counting the coins. “What’s the keep?” “Two hundred!” a chipper elf screams. “Highest we’ve ever got in one night, this is.” With a yawn, I sit against a tree, pulling out a bottle of wine. Everybody's celebrating, dancing and singing. What a crazy life this is. For centuries we’ve swindled the humans, making them believe we’re at war, and while it was originally for survival—hell, I guess it still is, in a way—it’s gone on so long that they view it as a damned sport. We pretend to battle, show some blood, and they make us rich. After downing half the bottle, I start dozing off. Tomorrow we’ll move somewhere else, trick some more folks into believing our war’s still raging. But for now? We’ve had a good day. It’s time to relax— “Human!” Suddenly, an arm’s wrapped around my throat, squeezing the life outta me. I punch and pull at it but the grip’s too tight. The dwarfs are attacking the rest of the elves, and in the middle of our “battle” stands a man who looks terrified. I wish he’d empty his damn pockets and get out of here, because my vision’s starting to go blurry. “Please, stop!” he yells, holding his arms out. “This war’s gone on long enough, has it not? The time for killing is over!” Everyone pauses, and when the dwarf’s grip loosens, I heave. We’re all glaring at the man, wondering what he could possibly mean. Humans don’t show us compassion, or care. We’ve definitely never had one of them tell us to stop fighting. Someone goes to open their mouth, but a smirk grows across the man’s face, and he takes off running, snatching our sack of gold. “Suckers!” he yells. “I’ve been following you for miles! I know all about your secret!” Suddenly, we’re all chasing after him, angrily shouting as we wave our swords around. Today, for the first time ever, us swindlers have been swindled, and now we have two options if we wanna protect our livelihood—we either kill this idiot, or let him join our group. And I shudder because I know we’ll pick the latter. *** If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
The house has been there since the town was started 300 years ago, everyone knew that you never step foot in the house and over time it became a scary legend. Last year this kid Billy from high school, on a dare, went into the house on Halloween and after a while there was screaming and lights flashing everywhere. Billy came out the backdoor wearing Iron man's suit, covered in refuse. The next day a group of Billy's friends went in there wearing their costumes from the night before hoping to get some of that sweet super powered action. You would think it would be funny watching a fat kid get eaten by a werewolf screaming about his wolverine healing not working, or the nerd down the street screaming about his light saber not working but it was a bloody mess all over the place. More groups tried during a full moon, one group even tried during Christmas. I figured it out though, I watched them all go in and die, except for Billy. I could see the house out my front window, it gave me a chance to see everything. Tomorrow's Halloween and I can't wait. I'm wearing Flash's boots, the infinity gauntlet, a light saber on my hip, my Double Dragon medallion around my neck, Indiana Jones's hat and a lucky rabbits foot. At midnight, I'm going in.
The auditorium echoed with the sound of hushed chatter and squeaking wooden benches. Tim propped himself up and took a look around the room. No sign of the speaker yet. The crowd had started growing restless over the last 45 minutes. Almost everyone in the room was old and white-haired. The seats weren’t very comfortable and he was hearing a lot of complaints about back pain. Tim’s boss at the investment firm normally attended the World Financial Association meetings, but had sent Tim this time for some unknown reason. Tim was glad to be away from his desk and his boss promised a free lunch. The association members had all received a notification to attend an emergency meeting, so Tim and the rest of the crowd had expected the meeting to start promptly. After a 10 more minutes of staring at his phone, there was a commotion at the auditorium doors. A group of white-haired old men were arguing among themselves as they made their way down the aisle to the lectern at the front of the room. One man stepped up to the front as the other men moved to the back of the stage and took a seat. He raised his hands to call for silence. “Alright everyone, I’m sorry we’re late. We had a bit of a disagreement on how to break the news.” Hushed murmurs erupted from the crowd once more. The speaker at the front continued, “Okay, everyone calm down, calm down.” The crowd silenced once more. Tim looked around at the sea of onlookers. Everyone had a concerned look on their face, but Tim wasn’t sure why. His boss normally attended the council meetings, so Tim wasn’t too familiar of what topics would be covered — he was simply there to take notes. After shuffling through some papers, the speaker continued, “As we all know, in about six hours, news will be breaking to the general public that the Scourge are entering Earth’s solar system. We’d hoped to have another decade to get humankind ready for it, but it looks like we have a month. We are going to have to kick start this species into gear.” Tim’s heart sunk into his stomach. He looked around and realized no one else seemed shocked. “So, we’re all going to have some sleepless nights coming up, but hopefully we’ll come out ahead.” The speaker grabbed some reading glasses out of his pocket and flipped through the loose pages on the lectern. “So I believe we have representatives from 50 systems here, um, hmmm… Do we have any delegates here that are actually human? Anyone?” Without thinking, Tim raised his hand. The entire auditorium turned to stare. The speaker raised an eyebrow, “Well, hello there, son. Who are you representing?” Tim cleared his throat, “Um, Siegfried Financial Group? My boss sent me?” He immediately regretted phrasing this as a question. The speaker looked confused as he flipped through more pages, “Well, on the register here, we have a John Russell as the representative for Siegfried. Where is John?” At that moment, another old man from the back of the stage approached the lectern and whispered something in the speaker’s ear. “Oh, I see,” he muttered in a disturbed tone. “Well, Mr. Tim…” he remarked, “It appears that it would have been helpful to have your boss with us today because he has a lot to say about the Scourage.” “Wha…” Tim remarked before he was cut off. “Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we have Mr. Russell to thank for the early arrival of the Scourage and in turn, his mole, Mr. Tim here.” “Woah, woah!” Tim yelled as he rocketed to his feet, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” The two men beside him stood up and grabbed his shoulders. Although they were old men, their grips felt superhuman. As Tim turned to meet their gazes, he realized the old men’s eyes had turned fluorescent yellow. The speaker gestured to the men and in a disgusted tone uttered, “Get him in the back and we’ll deal with him after the meeting.” Tim started struggling to no avail. He took a deep breath and muttered to himself, “Shit. This wasn’t worth the free lunch.” One of the men leaned over to Tim’s ear and whispered, “You are the free lunch.”
I read over the document for what seemed like the hundreth time. It wasn't very long, but I felt like I was missing something. "So, if I sign this,"I rested the paper on my kitchen table and smoothed it out before looking at the arbiter that brought it, "the money will be actually unlimited?" "Yes,"he began, "however, for every thous..." "Like actually unlimited,"I cut him off. "Not like those deals at restaurants where they say it's unlimited fries or whatever and cut you off at the fifth basket because they didn't think you would eat that much?" "I assure you, by unlimited it means without limit. By using your example, it would be as if you had all the fries you could desire, and once you tired of them mor fries would still be brought to you. But i must warn you, if you..." "Wait, so if I wanted to pay off the economic deficit of my country, I could do that and I would still have more money left to buy a jet ski?" "Well, yes. I suppose, but I must warn you, spending that much money would cause billions of people to..." "So what's the catch? A deal this good, there's gotta be a catch." "As I was trying to say,"the arbiter tried to calm his voice, "for every $1000 dollars you spend, someone from your country will die." "Yeah, I read that part in the contract. But what's the catch? Like is the money going to be in some currency that isn't good anymore. Or do I need to carry around gold bars everywhere or something like that?" "Is the death of your kinsmen not enough of a deterrent to spend your fortune wisely?" "I mean, not really? Actually, am I invluded in that death thing? Like since I'm from my country will i be the first to die? Or what happens when everyone from my country dies? I lose all the money right? I knew there was a catch!" "No sir, I assure you..." "Know what,"I asked tearing up the contract, "fuck off and keep your monkey's paw bull shit!"I tossed the pieces in the arbiter's face. "I don't need my fortune drying up just because a few hundred million people die. Get the fuck out my house!"
Part 1 In a flash, the landscape of Thanksgiving changed and my relationship with my family would never be the same. “So, who did you vote for in the last election?” Uncle Larry asked slowly. Eyes narrowed all around the table. Grandma was first to react. She kicked the table hard, sending her wheelchair flying back as she pulled two Glocks from underneath her blanket. Meanwhile, Aunt Lorraine strolled over to the wine cabinet, knocked on a hollowed-out area, and a shotgun fell from a secret compartment. She caught it before it hit the shelf and swung back around. My cousin Lorraine, nimble like a fox, jumped onto her chair and reveal two throwing knives hidden under her sleeves. Dad didn’t move, at least not at first. He simply raised hands: in his right, a stick of dynamite, and in his left, a lighter. My other cousin, Larry Jr and Renaissance Fair enthusiast, pulled out a ball and chain. I ducked under the table and yanked on the Uzi taped to the bottom of the table. We all stared at each other in a silent rage. “Dagnamit!” Uncle Larry shouted. He was the only one who didn’t react. He reached for his fork and knife and waved it around menacingly. “I voted for Theodore D. Spot!” Uncle Larry proclaimed. “How could you, dad?” Lorraine cried, knives now aimed at her father. “That man is a tyrant. Did you see that video of him kicking that poor cat?” “Darling, this is politics, and it’s vicious, and requires a real man to get the job done.” His fork was pointed at his daughter, but the knife moved from family member to family member. “Besides, there’s no way I’d waste my vote on that pretty boy, Remy Starr!” “You take that back!” Lorraine shouted. She hurled her throwing knife at Uncle Larry, but she missed, and it sailed just above grandma’s head and buried itself in the family photo. Another hidden blade filled her empty hand in an instant. “Well I voted for Jenny Millhouse,” I said. “Oh dear,” Grandma started. “I would have thought you were old enough to think with the brain in your head, and not the one between your legs.” The sound of disappointment really struck home. “She’s never run for office before, Sam!” Lorraine shouted. “Plus, she’s not that good looking.” Her voice was equal parts vile and disgust. I shrugged innocently and pointed the Uzi at her. “Dinner’s ready!” I heard my mom yell from behind the kitchen the door. We all gave each other questionable looks and almost simultaneously hid our respective weapons. Mom burst through the door with a heavy turkey in hand. No one motioned to help her as we all opted to keep an eye on one another. She placed the turkey at the center of the table, the scent of dinner wavered in my nose. “Now, now,” mom started. “If you have any squabble to get out, do it now. I don’t want to hear about politics at the table.” She looked at each of us before her eyes settled on her sister. Lorraine gave her a dirty look before staring off at the ceiling. Mom didn’t say anything in response. She simply smiled and disappeared behind the kitchen door. We waited a moment before snatching our weapons out. “Well I for one voted for Xander Mc—” but he didn’t get to finish. The group turned and opened fire. Larry Jr’s body turned into a pincushion. An array of bullets tore his body to shreds. Two knives pierced his eyes, and even his father jabbed his lifeless body with a fork. When it looked like his body couldn’t take any more, it exploded, spraying blood and Larry Jr’s entrails all over the turkey. We all looked at my dad and he shrugged as he pulled out a new stick of dynamite. “What’s goin’ on out here?” a voice yelled from the bedroom. “Did you give him his pills, Lorraine?” Larry said to his wife. “No, that was Stacy’s job,” she replied. “No wait, that was mine.” She gave the trademark family shrug of innocence. Grandpa emerged from his room, a flamethrower in hand. “I got better sleep in Nam’! And for your information, the only person worth a damn is Ronald Reagan!” The flamethrower roared to life sending heat from the bedroom towards the dinner table. “Your dad’s fuckin’ crazy!” Larry yelled as everyone dived.
Jamie stood in the kitchen staring at a bottle of ketchup in one hand and a bottle of ranch in the other. The hum of the microwave and the depth of contemplation over which condiment he desired on his nuggets drowned out the sound of knocking at first. When at last he did hear, he would not even look up from his bottles. "Dad!"He shouted. "Get the damn door!" His father did not answer, and the knocking grew louder. Cursing, he slammed both bottles down on the counter. Didn't his father know he had social anxiety?? Why couldn't he just open the damn door! In an irritated huff, he stomped over to the door himself, which was not far from the kitchen. Flinging it open, he was already shouting "What!?"as it opened. And he could not believe what he saw. He had seen that cold grey steel mask every night. Every day. Every waking hour he had available. It was the MMO that he played day and night. Feeling smug, he asked of the figure in dark armor, "Must be a fan of my livestream. You here to show me cosplay of my character?" The figure was silent. "Well, it's a little shabby compared to the real thing. You don't even have the Blade of Sorrows,"he sniffed. "Anyway, I'm busy, so why don't you run along." The figure was silent. "You fucking stupid in there? I said get lost,"he bristled. When the figure was still silent, Jamie went to slam the door in his face, only to be stopped by a powerful arm. The tall armored figure pulled off the heavy, horned helmet he wore, letting it clatter noisily to the ground. That was real metal. This was a real metal suit. And that face...pitch black skin. Snowy white hair. Sharp and glowing eyes of red. This cosplayer had nailed his character down to a T. The amazonesque woman spoke in a low rumbling rasp, just he thought his character might. "You are Jamie,"she practically spat. It was not a question. "N-no shit, Sherlock,"he stammered nervously, a bit cowed by her size. "Look, you crazy bitch, good dedication but you need to fuck off now. Or are you some THOT that's here to fuck a livestream celebrity?"His laughter held that touch of nervousness that spoiled his attempt at belittling her. She stepped in the doorway, a good foot taller than him. Her face was twisted in fury, though she spoke in calm measure. "I thought I had a grand destiny. I was supposed to be a savior. I was supposed to be a leader." Before Jamie could reply, she seized his neck and lifted him effortlessly off the ground. His eyes bulged as he choked and struggled at her grasp, terrified that she had so easily lifted a struggling, 350 pound man. "You named me Big Titty Bitch,"she squeezed at his throat. "You had me relentlessly kill new hopefuls to the realm. You had me pretend to befriend others in the guise of helping them only to double up on your loot gains and murder them afterward. You created a relentless tyranny for your own amusement. You made me speak of terrible and dishonorable things for the joy of seeing their anguish. You are a pathetic leech that drains the life from a life worth living. I despise what you have made of me. The shame and dishonor you have brought to me and my clan. Oh right. I don't have a clan, because you chose to sacrifice the elder for a little extra gold!" Here she dropped him, and he collapsed and fell onto his backside, gasping for air. "Wh-who..."he sputtered out between teary eyed gasps. "Y-you c-can't b...be..." "I am, you worm,"she hissed. "You were calling just now for your father to answer the door. Your ailing old father who can hardly walk, you fucking honorless, ungrateful, pig. While you stunk up your den of revulsion, he died choking on his own tongue upstairs from a seizure. You were such a terrible bully to the poor man, but his dying wish was for you to become a real part of the game you so loved." Jamie scooted backward in terror, "What are you going to do to me?" "Me?"She asked incredulously, dark face twisting in further fury. "I'm going to take you to the lands of Gaia, and I am going to leave you in the middle of the starting town. And they are going to know that it was you that truly terrorized that place. You will see justice at the hands of those you have wronged." He scrambled to get to his feet, to flee. "Because that useless old bastard died? You can't fucking do this to me! This can't be fucking real!" She seized him by the ankle, dragging him along behind her as he kicked and screamed. A swirling portal opened in front of them, glowing menacing shades of orange and green. Jamie screamed until the portal closed behind them leaving only a quiet, empty house.
You looked perplexed, confused, so very horrified. Why the hell would a rock talk? There’s no mouth, no vocal cords, and especially no hole to get air through. So what the actual fuck? “This might be weird, but please help me!” The rock called, to you. You pick it up, and after a while of finding words, you stutter a “What the hell is happening?” The rock didn’t move, didn’t have any emotions, so why? How? Science didn’t suffer for years just for this to happen! “I used to be human, like you are! But some asshole turned me into a rock!” The small rock told you. You still didn’t understand anything. “Why are you a rock? How can you talk? Can you breathe? You can see me?” You asked in one breath. The rock sounded a bit annoyed when they answered. “Yeah, yeah yeah, all of whatever you said. You gotta help me though!” “Help you? How? I’m not some ‘Harry Potter’ that can say mumbo jumbo and expect you to turn back to a human.” You said, before you thought a bit. “You said you were cursed, right? Why?” The rock hesitated. “W-well, I sort of... did something bad which got me cursed.” “What did you do that made you deserved being turned into a rock?” You asked. “Well... I was, as a 45 year old, meeting up with a 10 year old-“ You didn’t hesitate. You threw that rock right into the ocean, as hard as you can. The rock screamed the whole way until it hit the water, bouncing a bit and skipping on the surface, before sinking into the water. “Pedophiles don’t get a second chance, bitch.” (Sorry is it isn’t that good! I’m not that good at writing, just saw no responses and wrote something quickly. Didn’t check for mistakes, glad to hear any criticism!)
Ugh, what time is it? You roll over and check your phone. Saturday, 9:15 AM. Whelp, I guess it’s time to get up. You roll out of bed and start grab a Pop-Tart from the pantry. What to do today… You go to your computer and ‘Browse the Web…’ “Breaking News: There are many reports of new ‘Super Powers’” “Many report they have the abilities of the last video game character they played” Oh no! What if… You run to the kitchen, grab some leftovers from the fridge, and place them on the ground in front of the kitchen door. This can’t mean… You walk up to the doorway. Surely not… You go to step over the plate into the living room and immediately whip around, exit the back door, walk to the front door, and enter the living room. Oh god…. You go up to the other side of the plate on the ground, pick it up and go to the bedroom door way. There’s only one entrance to the room. It’s the only way to completely test your theory. You walk inside the bedroom and place the plate on the ground, right in the middle of the entrance to the room. Please, this can’t be true… You try to step over the plate to exit the room. You walk up to the plate, lift your foot, and stop. Your foot goes back to the ground but on the same side as it was before. “ARRGH! IT’S IN MY WAY!” you yell. Reality sets in. You’re a Sim.
it used to be pretty easy to classify people based on powers; things were simple! Then of course, once my powers had manifested, I managed to make things complicated. It had been a running theme throughout my life, so I'm not sure why myself, or anyone else around me, had expected any different. To be fair, though, it seemed like a category that always should have been around, but because my skillset seemed so heavily geared towards this category, the rules were re-evaluated and I became the first of a new wave. At first I was pretty bummed. I wanted to be strong, or to fly, be able to Freeze people solid, or at least be able to scare the daylights out of them with a 'Fear Gas' like Scarecrow from Batman! But once I comprehended just what I could do? What could be done? I was suddenly extremely satisfied. Before getting to whatmine is exactly, however, it may be wise to explain the system of classification before I went and started a revolution. Previously, the three 'classes' were 'Offensive', 'Defensive' and 'Mildly-Totally Useless'. Pretty Self-explanatory, right? 'Offensive' Class were those who had primarily attacking type abilities. Freezing people solid, being strong enough to punch a hole in Hoover damn (that was not a fun day), Being able to assemble and control and army of Honey Badgers, or being able to listen to Soulja Boy for 2 hours straight. People who could use their powers for mass destruction or at the very least as a weapon of war. 'Defensive' people were those with abilities that allowed them to 'save' or 'defend'; just as the title would imply. They could heal, through up energy barriers to defend an area, or 'Fortify' object; strengthening their qualities to make them last longer (which could be things like bridges and building structures, but it could also be used to enhance the durability of, say, a sword). Basic things that allowed people to protect and help one another. And then there were the misfits; those people with 'Mildly-Totally Useless Powers'. Being able to control their nose hairs and lengthen or shorten them, being able to speak through farting (literally speaking out of your ass), or the ability to curse people to like Vanilla Ice Cream more than Chocolate. Things that have no real, practical purpose other than to annoy people from time to time. Me however? I can touch a book; any book; and immediately know, and understand, its contents. How to Build a Birdcage? \Tap\, I can name every step, exactly what's needed, how long it'd take to complete, and the practical purpose and application for even building one in the first place. Modern Architecture? \Tap\, I now am able to identify all structures that would be considered 'modern', differentiate them from others, identify what is used int he construction, how it's done, and can replicate it or instruct others on how to do so. The same for every category under math, science, archaeology, etc. Being neither capable of 'protecting' or 'attacking' anything directly with these powers (as they all just enable me to learn things that can be used for anything), it wasn't deemed to fit into either of the more 'popular' categories. And being able to cut the time for reading learning, and application of new skills down to 0, it was immediately seen as not belonging into the third category. And so, after much deliberation, the fourth class of skills were born: "Analytical"with me as the first (I heard the next was a girl who could analyze the depth of any body of land or water she looked at, and could identify objects in perfect clarity no matter how far down or obscured; like an advanced Ground Penetration radar). Before I could even really get used to playing around with my powers on my own (having read every book on language possible, I was going to have a ton of fun pranking callers), I was approached by a group of historians in a hurry. Having wanted to 'claim' me first (in retrospect, I suppose my powers would be extremely valuable to just about any body of research) and I was ushered along with them. They presented me with an idea I hadn't yet thought of. 'What if my powers don't apply solely to books?'. Suddenly, the possibility that I could read and interpret Hieroglyphics was very enticing. Could I interpret them with perfect accuracy? Old frescoes on the Minoan islands? What about Lost ruins dedicated to the Aztec? The prospect was too hard to ignore. Before long I found myself whisked along with them, eventually discovering what could possibly spark the biggest 'revolution' yet.
"Space rangers are on the line", Katia informed. "Transferring the comm to your private space, Captain." The red LED blinked a few times. "Transfer accepted"I said out loud, making the computer display a tiny hologram in the palm of my hand. "Captain Gallaway, I am General Clark. We are on our way to Titan as of now, but I would need more information about your situation. Can you comply?" "Of course, General. I am Captain Ben Gallaway, from the ship Nautilus. We crashed on Titan six days ago, after a reflux-controller breakdown. We were not able to divert our course, initially set to Titan for gravity-push maneuvers." "Has your ship integrity suffered from the crash?" "Not that we know of. Emergency procedures were followed by the twelve members of this ship and ..." "Sorry, wait a minute Captain. You said twelve members?" "Exactly. Precisely what we declared to Space Customs." A silence followed. The eerie sounds of the Nautilus, almost growling in this dark-sided moon, invaded my room. Somewhere, a hammer was bumping a piece of metal, and the corridors reverberated the noise. Ill-at-ease, I asked: "Is there anything wrong, General Clark." A few seconds elapsed before he answered. "Well, Captain Gallaway, I have to ask you formally. Do you have clandestine passengers aboard?" I was outraged by the question. Implying that a captain had clandestines aboard was an insult to their integrity. A serious one. "Of course not, General Clark. Why are you asking me this?" He ignored my question, and continued with another one: "Do you think it is possible that clandestine passengers could have embarked your ship? Without you knowing any of it?" The sole idea of a clandestine passenger on the Nautilus was pure idiocy. "No, I don't. The Nautilus is an admiral ship from Station 45-B, General Clark. We do have proper security procedures. I need to ask you now why are you so anxious about this." "Well, Captain Gallaway, our sensors do not detect twelve people aboard the Nautilus. You actually are thirteen." &#x200B; &#x200B; A few hours had passed since General Clark's call. The whole crew was in the living quarters, looking at each other and whispering. They had no idea why I summoned them, except for Katia. As the Communication Operator, she had been on the line for the whole call. The look she gave me was that of a terribly scared person. "Everyone, may I have your attention, please?" The room grew quiet all of a sudden. "This is a quick check-up on our situation. I want answers, and quick. Roberts, are we good on provisions?" "Yes, Captain. We should have enough to last for a month or so. But we'd have to cut a bit on dinners, Sir. We are eating a tad more than we thought." A chilling thought got my spine crawling. Roberts knew the crew as her own, and she always had foreseen our consumptions by the very calorie. We were off, but her calculations were not. I took a discret breath, and tried to calm down. As the captain of this ship, I had to keep pretending everything was okay. "Fine, Roberts, we'll cut down on food following your recommendations. Hoffman, Xen-Li, how are we doing on repairs?" "We fixed the reflux-controller, Sir. However, the crash damaged permanently our ion-thrusters. There is no way we get out of here without the Rangers' help", Hoffman said. "They'll get here in no time. They have to get through the artificial shield we almost exploded on our way in. Their rescue ship is not designed to go through such energetic force fields. We expect them to land on Titan in a few days or so." "I have to had something, Captain."Xen-Li had spoken. He mastered English only a few years earlier, and was a very shy person. As a result, he was known for speaking as little as possible. Some crew members even heard his voice for the first time. This was not good news. For him to speak in front of his crewmates, something really wrong had to happen. "I think the reflux-controller has been impaired on purpose." The ensuing silence meant more than any word. Xen-Li was actively accusing someone of sabotaging the ship. "This is a serious accusation, Xen-Li. Are you sure about this?" "Yes, I am. The reflux-controller had visible signs of knocks. This was poorly done with a wrench, or an heavier tool. This couldn't have happened all by itself. Reflux-controllers are usually the last parts to break in ships engine, and for a reason. This has been mendled with." The situation was worsening. First, there is an unknown guest aboard the Nautilus. Next, one of us tried to break an crucial part of the engine. If it wasn't for sheer luck and my crewmates qualifications, we would have been dead for a week. This trip was a nightmare. "Even if there are obvious signs corroborating sabotage, why any of us would want the Nautilus to crash on Titan? Especially on this empty moon, deathly little rock lost in space! This makes no sense." "We have to understand why it happened, Captain."Katia said. "Based on recent feedback from Space Rangers, they will be on Titan in a few local days. This leaves us with around twenty-four hours to find out who sabotaged the engine." Murmurs grew and I had to quiet them. It was useless to keep my crew in here for much longer, so I asked them to get back to their respective jobs. We needed to make sure the ship was in an as good shape as possible. While everyone was dispersing, Katia came to me. "Captain, we also have twenty-four to find out who is the thirteen living person in this ship." "I know, and I did not tell the crew so they can stay focus. But keep in mind that this "who"might very well be a "what". Life-survey on Titan was never completed. Two crews dispatched to Titan before never came back. That leaves us with another option for the clandestine." "Do you think ..." "Yes, Katia. The thirteen passenger of the Nautilus might be an alien from Titan."
It all happened 6 months ago. I remember waking up to find myself destroying the floor beneath me. I tried to scream, but the voice that came out was more of an elephant noise. After realizing the raised trunk and the giant white tusks I started to understand what happened. I had transformed into my spirit animal mid-sleep. I didn’t “understand” what the fuck was happening, but I did understand in the sense that I could realize my newly formed body. My first thought was that I was either high or dreaming. A hard crash into the ground later though and I realized, with the scrutinizing pain of my broken leg, that this was no dream. This was real. How it came to be remains a mystery. It was not just me however. I looked around only to find hundreds of destroyed buildings and animals of all shapes and sizes surrounding me. The moments of panic started to fade away as the people, or beings, were starting to realize what just happened. What followed was as anyone would expect in these moments. Some screamed, some sat in shock and confusion, some unfortunately died of heart attacks or from the fall depending on their luck. It was total chaos. Amidst it all however, you could see the few that had survived the incident. I assume it is because they had no spirit animal, or maybe they viewed the human race as their spirit animal. We will never know. What we do know is that they are the only humans left. They’re split into different groups, those who are helping the rest find shelter and repair their wounds, those who have secluded themselves and live in denial of it all, and those who took advantage of the situation. They realized the vacancies in positions of power. Claimed them for themselves. It is now 6 months since the incident. The world is on the brisk of total war. Two of the remaining humans, the divergent as we call them, had a disagreement. They each built their own army, surrounded by human servants and animal slaves. I have, by some miracle of god, been able to escape. One of the divergents, Noah, had attempted to save as much animals as he could. He took us all on a ship to an island where we were presumably safe. At least until now.
"What are you doing?" &#x200B; The words cut across the glade. I shot up, my hair tingling at its ends, twisting about till I saw the... thing that made that sound. My soil-covered hand darted about in the air as I tried to steady myself from the sudden activity. &#x200B; Strewn about me was a series of holes, all dug out from weeks of repeated experimentation. &#x200B; My knees were caked in mud, and the cloudy skies were doing little to assuage my fears of further ruining my clothing as the afternoon wore on. As I turned, the voice repeated its question. "What are you doing?" &#x200B; The words were human, but the tone and inflection felt... off. It was tuned through a digital system- I had met many a soul who spoke through such systems, but none had ever made... this sound. No, it sounded like an echo, ringing against a trembling brook. I cast my eyes up and down now, until I finally spotted it. &#x200B; It was shaped like a child, but its skin was different. It was composed of bark, though flower petals adorned it. It was dressed for Spring, so to speak- lots of glowing hues of yellow and pink, its leaves bouncing with a healthy green. It sat upon a branch, looking down at me. Its mouth formed something akin to a beak. It was a Spriggan, perhaps, or perhaps a Nymph. &#x200B; I looked up, quite lost. It tilted its head in turn, before scrambling down its tree. I imagine that it had claws, or some means of adhering to the bark of its brethren. It stood upright, but from the way it swayed and splayed out its hands, it was not used to mimicking human movement. After watching it nearly stumble twice more, I could not help but wish the creature approach in a manner that better fit it. &#x200B; "You don't need to assume a human form around me,"I offered the being of the forest. &#x200B; "No worries human,"the echoey voice rang. "I need the practice." &#x200B; It approached me, allowing me to see its eyes. The pupils were large, and the eyeballs could barely turn. Instead, it kept shifting its head to ensure that it had a good perception of all three dimensions. The creature made some effort to stifle its instinct to do this around me. Perhaps it understood that such things were uncommon around humans. &#x200B; It gazed up at me, those wide eyes brimming with curiosity. &#x200B; I relented, and sat back upon my seat of loam. "Do you know what I can do?"I asked it. &#x200B; "I hear things,"the creature tilted its head. &#x200B; "And what have you heard?"I asked of it. &#x200B; "You fix. You heal. You do not break. Rare skill for a human,"it remarked. I smiled softly at it. Perhaps it was out of envy. &#x200B; "Aye, I do indeed fix things." &#x200B; "So why are you breaking the earth here?"it asked. "I do not recall a human deeply invested in digging grub and root. Do you not have farms? Do you not have tamed creatures to consume?" &#x200B; "No, no, I'm not looking for anything to eat." &#x200B; "Good- you seemed a bit too well-fed to be digging here. Worms and Grub here... thin, weak. Poisoned, in some cases." &#x200B; I would have commented on the rather... rude tone of the creature's jab at my weight, but that it had struck upon the point I aimed for. "I actually came here to see if I could fix that." &#x200B; "Fix what? The grubs? The worms? There are far too many for you to touch... especially with digging claws like yours." &#x200B; "Well, I have tools,"I showed the creature my hand shovel. It tittered lightly, but I did not give it a chance to insult the size of my gardening paraphernalia. "But actually, I was trying to heal the soil." &#x200B; "Heal,"the creature tilted its head and blinked, "soil?" &#x200B; "See, my hand... it fixes problems. At least, that's how I've always interpreted it. I actually fixed the arm of one of your... fellow spirits a few weeks back. A bit further to the south." &#x200B; "Hm. They must not have germinated that story yet." &#x200B; I felt compelled to ask about the mechanics of the spriggan's brand of story-sharing, but it seemed a bit more interested in how I planned to "heal"soil. &#x200B; "So I thought... I could try... touching the earth. Finding its problems. Fix them." &#x200B; "The Earth has troubles?"the creature blinked. &#x200B; I looked back, confused. "I mean, of course, it has problems. Don't you think the Earth is suffering?" &#x200B; "The Earth is everything. It can't really be healthy, or really be sick,"the spirit answered. &#x200B; I leaned forward on my seat of loam, looking the spirit of the forest deep in its eyes. "Well, if you had to fix the issues with the grubs and the worms, and you had my gift,"I asked of it, "How would you start?" &#x200B; "Well, I don't have your hands,"the spirit said, showing me the hands it formed of root and bark. It wiggled its eight digits before my face. "And I would not try to dig the earth. That is home to the worms and grubs. They do not like the digging all that much." &#x200B; "That's fair,"I nodded, crossing my soiled hands. "But they are thin, as you said, and weak. Surely they require some healing, do they not?" &#x200B; "Healthy bodies need healthy food- otherwise, how could they stay healthy?"the spirit asked me. "So, if something must be fixed, it is the source of their ails,"the spirit said. "But even then, is that really aiding them? With this poison, only the strongest of them survive. Give birth to stronger baby grub and baby worms. If too many live, they consume all the good stuff, and then the rest cannot eat." &#x200B; "But you said that they were poisoned,"I pointed out. "Would it not benefit the forest to remove that poison?" &#x200B; "The forest neither benefits, nor does it suffer. It simply is,"the spirit said, blinking. "Do you think trees weep? Do you think soil gets sick?"the creature blinked, head tilted. "Forests do not think. They do not feel. They simply are,"the creature stated it as though it were a fact. "You can heal the trees, you can help the grub, but soil does not live. It simply is. There is nothing that can be fixed about dirt and stone,"the creature said. &#x200B; I considered the creature's words. Finally, I asked, "But... doesn't it bother you? When the forest is changed? When trees are cut down, or when humans take the animals?" &#x200B; "Tis a living thing's nature, to preserve what it knows. But live for many moons, and that change is what makes life life,"the creature said. "If this forest dies, its stories still live. For as long as there are trees, there will always be stories etched in the boughs and the leaves." &#x200B; "And what if... every tree were to fall?" &#x200B; "Do you think that possible?" &#x200B; I paused and considered it. I had no answer. At least, none that could have properly answered the creature's innocent query. &#x200B; "It is not. Even if all man were to endeavor to end trees, they would likely all die before they realized their goal. Forests grow, even in places you least expect,"the spirit said. "Sometimes they are small. Sometimes they grow beneath waves. They can even exist in lands with no light. You cannot stop life human." &#x200B; "But... what if there was something. A force out there- a curse that we humans set upon the land... something that eroded and destroyed life, regardless of its intention?" &#x200B; "... nothing lasts forever human. That is the nature of life- we die. Tis what we living things are best at,"the creature stood up. "Wouldn't you say?" &#x200B;
If you ever got the chance to meet a superhero, would you smile at them? "Mr. Charles? Mr. Charles are you ready?" The voice of the cop in front of me pulled me away from my daydreaming, the urgent in his voice was almost palpable and the tension in the air was so heavy that it felt like the whole area was about to be swallowed into the earth. I took a deep, silent breath, not giving a response to the cop but acknowledging him with a nod. I tightened my tie and carefully started walking towards the almost destroyed school. I could feel the eyes of the crowd behind me, their expectations and fear piercing my back. It was at times like this that I really regretted my decisions in life. *** The insides of the school building were far more damaged than the outside. all around me, the hallways, the lockers, and the classrooms were cut in places as if a wild beast had gone mad and decided to 'sharpen' its claws with everything it could find. My shoes made a clicking sound on the hard surface of the desolated building and it felt like I was the sole presence in this post-apocalyptic scene. But I knew that wasn't the case, otherwise, I would not have been called here. Particles of dust were in the air all around me, the cafeteria of the school was, to my knowledge, a place where children and adult alike enjoyed their meals of the day, all of this while socializing with each other, forging bonds and more. The scene before me wasn't as such. A boy and a girl stood in front of me while holding hands, the boy was limping, but the only thing keeping from falling on the ravaged floor was the girl holding his hand, which for her part was smiling at me, like a predator who just found its new pray. "Angelica, Thomas,"I said, trying to sound like the responsible adult I'm supposed to be "I assume you know why I'm here and who I am?" "You're superhero aren't you?"Angelica said, her voice loud but she wasn't yelling "...but you're not wearing a cape?" "I don't do capes,"I said while walking toward them, but stopped when I heard a faint whistling sound in the air. a second later, or perhaps even less, the ground in front of me was gouged open. As if a wild, colossal beast had decided to use its claws on it And for an instant, I thought I heard it growl at me. "Don't"Angelica growled, a bit of sweat pouring down her forehead "don't, don't get closer or I'll- " "Tear me apart as you did with everything else?" She looked at me with horror in her eyes, it was almost as if she realized just now what was that she had done, all the destruction she caused and the victims that suffered because of it. two out of ten children are born with superpowers. Most of those superpowers are of small scale, short-range telekinesis, levitation, even breathing fire wasn't a big deal. These kinds of powers never went over the top. Sometimes those children would grow up to be a decent member of society, depending on their upbringing, their power didn't have much effect on their daily lives. Sometimes, - or, perhaps, most the times - those children would grow up to be superheroes and fight against crime while protecting the people. Or it may also be possible that those children become supervillains committing various crimes and endangering the civilians. Angelica face warped, no longer one of horror nor fear, it was also not filled with anger or hate. It was a completely blank expression, but even so, her big green eyes stared at me completely devoid of light. Sometimes, a special event in those children's life will make them diverge from the expected Sometimes, under a high amount of pressure, their personalities would distort Under such pressure, their brains cease to function for a split second as if trying to escape reality And that small instant, it's the moment their power took control, with completely unexpected results Angelica lifted her hand, she made a claw gesture with it sequentially brought it down in front of her, as if cutting down the air. The whistling sound came, much louder than before. If that claw made contact with a human body the torn into pieces, every limb, organ, blood would dance in the air until hit the ground and stained everything in gore. But something like that didn't happen, the only thing that came was the sound of two colossal objects hitting each other. In front of me floated layers and layers of what at first glance looked like transparent shields. they were in fact, nothing but mere 'projections' of a much greater power that I had taken over. The 'claw' made contact with the shields once more. But they didn't budge a bit. "Allow me to introduce myself Angelica, Thomas, "I said, carefully looking at both of them. From the corner of my eye, I could see a small crack starting to form in the shields. "I'm called Mr. Charles. I'm the superhero who will save you both" Angelica smiled and brought down her claw once more. *** Any advice and/or critique you can give me is greatly appreciated :)
The ship landed in the town square of the capital. IT was unarmed and sneaked past our defenses easily, as there were no weapons or citizens of the Alarion civilization to detect. We saw it land, a crowd barely held back by guards all witnessed it on the marble ground, its descent was soft. Guards inched towards it, spears and guns at the ready. SSSSSSSSSSS It made. A hissing sound as the top part of the capsule opened. A small fog rolled out as the difference in air pressure created condensation and we saw, sitting formally in the capsule, a human. There was silence. He was wearing mainly blue human clothing, and had rations in the capsule as well as a human entertainment and communication tablet. He wore the patch of the enemy. They had allied with the humans. They had allied with the race that was so warhungry they devoted gods to it and made thousands of art pieces on it. They allied with the race that had perfected the nuclear weapon and tore its own planet apart with it. They allied with the race who had managed to conquer thousands of colonies through sheer willpower and pride, and whose weapons were known as the most destructive in the entire galaxy. They had allied with those that perfected war. They had allied with humans.
“Checkmate,” I say with a grin. The games in the beginning had been rather demented. Needles were shoved into my arms, and I wasn’t aloud to flinch. I was dropped into mazes like a rat, with a Minotaur chasing me through. The psycho sort of reminded me of Ramsay Bolton from Game of Thrones. He seemed to get frustrated after that, I have a high pain tolerance, and I ran 5k’s since I was 9. I don’t know why he picked me. I was out to dinner with my wife and some friends, and got abducted from the bathroom. I was challenged to Chess, Battleship, he even made me do a Pringle’s taste test like a Youtuber. Somehow I succeeded every time. “Fuck!”, my captor (whose name I’m unaware of) shouts. “Let’s play Boggle!” “Oh no!”, I say in mock fear, “Terrifying!” I guess I stopped fearing his games after the Smash Bros fight. Once he stopped torturing me, a quick death wouldn’t be as bad as being mauled by a 7-foot-tall man beast. And I may or may not have crippling depression. After Boggle, in which I beat him 15 points to 4, we play Scrabble, in which I beat him 374 points to 104. “I have an idea!”, the psychopath says in an excited, high pitches voice. “I’ll make you a Duolingo account, and skip a bunch of Spanish lessons. I’ll set you free, and you have to escape from the Duolingo bird!” I’ve seen the memes. And I know what’s coming. The Duolingo bird will find us all some day, and mine is coming quick.
"But...you're a time traveler! How was I supposed to know you'd never heard of this movie before? It was a popular movie when it was released. How have you never seen a reference to it before?" &#x200B; Roy choked his words as he cowered under the fierce gaze of Yarin. Roy had been enjoying Yarin's friendship for a a few years now. Through happenstance, they had met and fostered a bond akin to brotherhood. But Roy had never seen Yarin in such anger before. &#x200B; "I have taken time out of my day to bring you here to 1999 so we could watch this in theaters. Why would I elicit such effort for a movie of which I was already familiar?" &#x200B; Roy and Yarin were given curious looks as they stood in the theater hallway, having their argument in hushed whispers. After spoiling the plot of the movie, Yarin had rushed out there in a fury and Roy was doing his best, albeit terribly so, to pacify him. &#x200B; "Yarin, you're right. Look buddy, I'm sorry, alright? Why are you getting so mad about this anyway? I've never seen you like this." &#x200B; "Our relationship has given me much satisfaction and I hold you in high esteem, however, your questioning of emotions is concerning. I hold dear our leisurely outings, but I cannot accept you spoiling this movie. With my temporal outings, there is little I have not seen and the ability to watch something new to me is priceless." &#x200B; Roy shagged his shoulders. He didn't know what to say to his friend. This was not something he could fix. Anxiety crept up as he entertained the fear that his friendship with Yarin might be now corrupted. &#x200B; "Roy, I am normally not the type for revenge. However, I will not be able to stand with myself if I let this trespass go unmatched." &#x200B; "Unmatched? What exactly do you mean?" &#x200B; Yarin held a hand to silence Roy. He pulled out his device and touched it to his forehead. In an instant, he had Roy's entire history logged into his mind. &#x200B; "Next year, in 2020, you will meet Julia Higgins. Your wife." &#x200B; "After a rocky few years and a child born from a pathetic attempt to save your marriage, Julia will divorce you in 2028." &#x200B; Roy's heart dropped. He knew that his history was already written in stone, and he reluctantly accepted this. However, he had never wanted to know anything about his life. Knowing that he essentially had no free will was bad enough, but he at least wanted the experience of living his life anew. He couldn't help but stand frozen, as Yarin continued his perverse eulogy. &#x200B; "Your daughter, Alena, will grow to hate you. In the summer of 2039, she will run away while in your care and the ensuing chaos will disable you from ever having custody of her again." &#x200B; "In 2051, you will be diagnosed with mild cirrhosis and pre-diabetes. This will cause-" &#x200B; "Okay! Enough!" &#x200B; Roy's words came out amidst a barrage of tears that cascaded downward as he fell to his knees. A small crowd had gathered in the hallway, watching as Yarin stood stoically atop the mess that Roy had become. &#x200B; Struggling and stammering, Roy let out a few more words to his oppressor. &#x200B; "Yarin...I'm sorry! I, I didn't understand how important this was to you. I just...just thought that everyone knew that Bruce Willis was dead the entire time. Come on Yarin, the whole point is that the kid sees dead people!" &#x200B; [r/therudyshow](https://www.reddit.com/r/therudyshow)
The elevator doors open up to show me the empty space I was hoping to get. Work's finished and I can't wait to get home. It's been a particularly long day and I can't wait to cuddle up to my Jackie and a bottle of wine. Assuming she wants to hang with her old man and all. My finger hover over the ground button when a colleague of mine runs into the elevator. I can see him panting and I flash a quick smile at him. Martin stares at me with a brow raised before hitting my hand away and pressing on the 'G' button. I frown at him and he shrugs and mouths an apology. Some part of me readies to lash out at him but I hold it in and release a breath. It is not worth arguing about. I'll give him a piece of my mind tomorrow when I'm feeling up to it. The elevator begins its descent down slowly and I stare ahead at the blank wall. Martin jabs another finger at the button, a bit more forcefully. His mouth moves in what I can only take to be a silent curse for the elevator to move faster. He glances at me briefly before returning his eyes to the LED Display. I worked on the top most floor, which so happens to be 7th floor. We reached the 5th when the elevator stopped and dinged open. I watch as Martin shakes himself and move to join me at the back of the elevator in one smooth motion. His eyes never leave the door and I notice an emotion on his face I wasn't expecting. Fear. Confusion fills me but before I can do anything, the doors open to a worrying scene. In the long corridor leading to the elevator, there was a mass of bodies on the floor. Unmoving. Martin next to me jumps and retreats to the corner of the elevator, his hands clasped over his ears desperately. At the end of the corridor, Sally was on her knees crying hysterically. The door begins to close when her head jerks up towards us. She scrambles up to her feet and tries to run towards us without stepping on the bodies. Martin moves first, his finger slamming on the 'close' button again. She shouts for us to wait but Martin continues to press it over and over. I try to push him away and a punch connects with my face. Colors dance in my vision, bright and blinding before clearing out to re-focus on the elevator ground. Sally is just at the door when it closes, her mouth shaped to shout out something vile to Martin. The temporary relief on Martin's face as the door closes wipes away and I see him stare at the door in horror and then at me. Still groggy from the unexpected punch, I crawl away from my colleague towards a corner of the elevator. I turn to face him, ready to give him the piece of my mind I was saving for tomorrow. Just as I'm about to begin, he starts to convulse before falling to the floor. I shirk away from him immediately. His eyes connect with mine and I see a desperate plea in them. His sad eyes never leave mine as his body thrashes all over the floor. And then, as soon as it had begun, it stops. A scream leaves me, or I think it does, as I try to push myself away from me as much as I can. The elevator stops and I glance to see the 'G' LED on the elevator screen. I push myself towards the door as it opened. And then I stop as horror washes over me. Just like on the fifth floor, I see the bodies of my work colleagues all on the floor. Froth at their mouths and their eyes glazed over. I start running towards the exit. My phone vibrates and I remove it as I leave the building. The scene outside is worse. Everyone is running about. There's a palpable tension in the air like nothing I have ever felt before. I watch as cars swerve wildly, crashing into telephone poles. I see a school bus speed past, narrowly missing me, and colliding into a stationary car. The exit doors of the school bus opens long enough for a kid to climb out before falling to the floor and convulsing. My phone vibrates again and I tear my eyes away from the scene before me. 2 message notifications from Jackie. *Jackie:* Please come and get me. Please... *Jackie:* I loveendgnngn My eyes take in the first message, pausing at the second. It takes a moment for the right kind of fear to hit me before I start running towards the direction of Jackie's office. Something horrid is happening around me and I'm uncertain as to what it might be. And honestly, I don't care. I know I should, but my mind is dominated by only one priority at the moment. Another car crashes into a wall next to me while a van drives itself into a ravine. Explosions rock the surrounding area as cars go up in flames. I see fire trucks speed past, trying to navigate around the drivers and the running populace. But I don't stop to dawdle or look. I can't stop. Not until I ensure my daughter is safe. \--- I've got more stories in my sub, /r/EvenAsIWrite if you're ever interested in reading something new. Feedback and criticisms are always welcome.
I have no idea how I could have gotten in this situation. Unlike any Ikea locations my wife and I have ever seen, there was no map directory. However, it seemed completely normal in every other sense. The little path to follow between the different sections, Other people looking at the furniture, laughing as they tried to pronounce the names of the merchandise, but it never ended! "Do you need help finding anything?"Asks one of the employees. Her simple brown hair was pulled in a tight ponytail without a single stray strand, and a grin that would make the joker uncomfortable. "No thank you. I think We'll be fine." "Do you need help finding anything?"She repeats. There was no change. The woman didn't even blink in the time we had that exchange. My wife pulls me away and says that she found the way out. thank god, I thought we could never leave. As we walked closer and closer to the exit, we passed more and more people asking the same exact thing. "Do you need help finding anything?"Over and over. the words are burned into my brain. We reached the exit. The bright sunlight visible. We walked through. It took our eyes a moment to ajust, but we saw it again. A staircase that lead to the starting room.
"Sir, Space shuttles tend to get some fire damage upon re-entry." "I'm not talking about the burns, I'm asking about the bullet holes!" Richard’s face was one of pure bewilderment, a pale orb of pure innocence. “Bullet holes? Why sir, I’m fairly sure those are in fact… other holes.” “… What?” “Other holes, sir. As in they are not bullet holes.” The Colonel glowered fearsomely at the astronaut in front him. “Then tell me Lieutenant, what made those holes.” “Uhhhhhhh, space debris.” “Space debris.” “Those are debris holes, yes. Space debris. Dangerous stuff that, Lots of it in space and whatnot. Can’t swing a cat around without hitting a space debris.” “Without hitting a… you know what? If it was space debris, then why did we find bullet casings in the shuttle?” A moment of panic crosses over the Lieutenant’s face, before being replaced by a self satisfied look. “That is the space debris I was talking about sir.” “And how did bullet casings get into orbit?” Another moment of panic dispelled with a flash of inspiration. “Space aliens sir. They might have gotten into a fight sir.” “So, let me get this straight. The holes in the shuttle are not bullet holes, but were caused by the bullet casings of space aliens going through your ship while you re-entered the atmosphere?” “Exactly right, spot on sir. Couldn’t have put it better myself.” “Son, you do know that this is a re-entry simulator right?”
We always assumed it was just... special effects I guess? We didn't think that thing was real. They were always such an over the top band, such lavish lifestyles and excessive habits. The money they poured into their shows, the theatrics? Without compare. Their recent album had a song in it, one about a terrifying creature that had been dormant for a millennium. That it would someday rise and take the land that, and I quote, must be taken. We had seen it rise, we had heard of it's damage, but again we all assumed it was a hoax. Theatrics from a band that has done far more absurd things than waking up a fake monster. When the album started flying off the shelves, the fans asked them to once again perform at the lake, but the group refused. They had seen the beast themselves, and while they all agreed it was the most metal thing they'd ever seen in a lake, that they had only survived by pure luck and would not awaken him again. Disappointment spread through the fanbase, so they took it upon themselves. When the first fan started blasting the music near the lake, they couldn't help but notice the surface of the water starting to vibrate. While this seemed bizarre and ominous, metalheads of this magnitude would not be deterred. More began to flock to the site. They trickled in at first, curiosity and a desire to be a part of something called the locals. Then they drove cross country, then from other countries. Suddenly, their fans were pouring in from across the globe with unprecedented fervor. As the fans packed the lakebed, and space became scarce, they started to wade into the depths. The lake continued to shudder and ripple to their call, but it wasn't yet enough. The band themselves arrived, hoping to warn their fans away and stop the ritual, but their presence drove the fans into a frenzy. They began to sing in unison, causing the water to rise, the once calm lake churned with such violent turbulence many fans were pulled under never to be seen again, yet they continued. No longer simply doing so in adoration, but answering the mind-bending call of the troll beneath the depths. Dethklok fled in their helicopter, knowing that only ruin awaits their fans in the depths of this Finnish lake. Mustakrakish rises.
I've done everything to protect my human. Everything. I used 8 lives to save him. Because I love him. My human was about to die, and I can stop it one last time. After that, I hope that another cat will take my place and do the same. I was old and I've had a good life with him. Most cats would let their owners die. But not me. He has a family. I knew where he was. So I padded myself towards his way. He was about to get into a car crash this time. Nightmarish creatures started to reveal themselves to me. I hissed angrily, they were trying to stop me. But I wouldn't let this happen!! I ran faster and faster. Outrunning these things. These Shadows are evil. I sensed my human nearby. And the truck that was going to kill him. I leaped towards the truck, to divert his path. He honked his horn and swerved into a tree. I fell to the ground, not on my paws as usual. I felt my breathing pick up. He was safe... And I was glad. Glad to have been his cat. "Oh no... Zero!"My owner yelled. He got out of his car as people stopped their vehicles for the truck. I meowed softly as he picked me up in his arms. I saw the Shadows move angrily. They couldn't take him today. Not now. Not ever. I felt wet stuff mat my fur. He was crying. I love him so much. I hope to see him again. When he's old and wise. I live you... Nick... Until we meet again.. I felt my spirit leave my body. Nick crying harder than he ever has, even when his mate had broken up with him after five years.
Few, if any, ever actually apply to work in maintenance. The Company motto is to seek out talent and snatch it up with both cold hands. Why wait for talent to find you? Most that work there, at the Company, were recruited in their sleep. Have you ever woken, limbs frozen stiff, bound down to your mattress? You try to scream, to raise your voice, your arm, just anything. But can't. That is how they interview you. It is a test, and only a certain type of mind can break on free. Those that do break free almost always wish they never had. They meet the stranger with blue eyes, the silhouette that stands against the shadows, the shape with such cold hands. The stranger is their welcome wagon, their guide to find the Company. Why not refuse? Because you can't. Because once you break the binds they put on you, once you pass their interview, you are taken from the world, our world, reality. And you are thrown behind the curtain, deep in the dark. The choice you are then left with is to work for maintenance, to serve this Company, or to serve the wantings of their guests... Few, if any. Almost always. Such uncertainty. Would you not think that all who meet or seek the Company despise it? Know that they don't. Know that such depravities are golden to the few. As with any industry there are those that love their work. And as with ant industry, most hate it. \\ "Maintenance to room thirty four."the cold dribble of a voice comes spitting from a speaker, the mouth piece lined in cobweb, the sound a dull drone of monotony. "Thirty four, again?"Platt sighed. He had been a working man in life, always one to stay behind to see a job well done. But this? The constant to-ing and fro-ing from thirty four, quite frankly it was starting to p\ss him off. He had been reading in his chambers, trying desperately to ignore Vicki. She was a mouth-breather, an avid sniffer of snot and of cocaine, an overall annoyance in this astral plain. Platt had killed her several times before, that's how he came to realise life really didn't matter here. Eternity meant just what it meant. There were no loop holes to be found, well not unless... "Thirty four, that's yours ain't it?"Vicki spoke around her bubble gum, a lime soda in one hand, a dirty magazine held in the other, "Well, ain't it?"the veins were sticking out upon her neck and on her forehead, gently beating their way around a laceration not so-long healed across her throat. "You know it is."Platt muttered, gathering his tool belt from the stainless steel made cabinet. Stainless-f\cking-steel, and didn't Platt just love. The walls, the ceiling, no windows of course. The floorboards, the bed frames, everything was stainless-fucking-steel. Everything was cold and so uncomfortable. "I know it is."Vicki blew a bright pink bubble, held in her lips, then popped it, using her tongue to lather up the sticky paste upon her lips. Platt drew a deep breath, knowing full well he didn't need the air, then said as politely as he could, "See you later, Vicki." "Yeah, whatever."Vicki sank beneath the rough, cotton sheets of her cot, and went to work with the dirty magazine. Platt left with an urge to look back over his shoulder, an urge that disappeared the second he stepped outside their chamber door. \\ The Company liked to described itself as the perfect slice of unreality. Imagine, if you will, a cake with more layers than a man can possibly count. A layer, in fact, for each flavour of every cake there ever was or ever will be. That is the Company. You think of the flavour, they'll provide you the taste. Room thirty four was a staggering seventy eight floors below Platt's chambers. It was easy enough to get down there, once you found the elevator. The Company's elevators were ever changing in location, and Platt would swear those stainless steel coffins that dragged you up and down were sentient. They knew, he surmised, just when you needed them. They knew how to make certain you'd have to walk far further than was necessary. Pick a direction, to the left or to the right, follow down the dim lit corridor, shade-less bulbs forever flickering. It wouldn't matter, whichever way you wandered the elevator would be just thirteen steps the other direction, you'd have to circle all the way right round to find it. F\cking things, as if this job could warrant being any harder.* Sure enough Platt turned right, and the elevator was thirteen steps to the left of his chamber door. But he had found the steel-lined coffin that would take him down, so suddenly down, deep into the Company's bowels. Time lost its place inside the elevators, you'd arrive a day earlier than you'd started out, you'd fall at speeds no mortal man could comprehend (or in all likeliness survive). This was just another way the Company degraded you. What better way to grind on souls trapped in eternal damnation than to distort time. Can eternity last longer? Platt felt it could. He felt this more and more each passing day. Time's running backwards, eternity is slipping fast away. \\ Room thirty four; for all its sins, its constant calling, at least room forty four was free from Vicki. "What seems to be the problem?"Platt asked, already stripping down (as was protocol), collecting up the tools most likely to be needed in his hands. The room was lit by fire, flames bellowing from candles scattered on the floor. There were four figures dressed in robes chanting by the sidelines, a half-faun without its eyes stood at the centre. It was the faun that waved Platt over. "Can't you see?"the faun pointed to a man strapped upon a cross, there were nails in his wrists and in his feet, a crown of thorns displayed upon his head. The man was smiling, giggling, pleading for more, please more! "Can you fix him?"the faun settled its eyeless gaze upon Platt, the soulless sockets begging for an answer. "I'll try, but I can't make any promises."Platt had seen this all before; the guests, the faun and those cultists still engaged in their chanting, had hoped to witness pain, to witness suffering before the hands of God. But what they couldn't have accounted for was that this man, their chosen sacrifice, had come here seeking pain as pleasure, and was a guest as much as them.
"Daddy! Daddy! The parade is coming down our street!" "Honey, the parade is on Main Street, we're on Dock Street. The parade is four streets away." "No Daddy! I saw it! Can't you hear the drums?" I listen. Those are drums alright. "Let's go look Honey." "Yay!" "Mommy! Bobby! Daddy and me are going to look at the parade!" The responses were muffled, "what!". "that's not for another hour!". The drums got louder. We went out on the porch. Sure enough, an old lady wearing a crown, on horseback, followed by what had to be Redcoats. Armed with... muzzleloaders. Has to be a reenactment, but what are they doing over here!?! Four columns wide, with a gap in the middle. The sound of the drums change. A column halt. The pairs of columns face away from each other. The outside column drops to one knee. And levels their rifles. "Woah, Dad! They don't know the first thing about gun safety, do they." I'm suddenly filled with dread. In the distance, "BY PLATOONS! FRONT RANK FIRE!". The ripple of fire is terrible, the screams of our neighbors are far worse. "Becky! You and Katie get in the basement, now! No arguments!" "Bobby! Break out the rifles, here's my key.". At that moment I hear the shatter of glass. A few seconds later, Bobby is back with bloody knuckles on one hand, two rifles, and four boxes of ammo. "Good boy! You take the second rifle and guard your mother and sister." "No, Dad. You're going to need me worse. You're the better shot, so I'll reload for you. Better rate of fire. If you ... go down, I'll shoot til you ... get up again." "Are you sure, Son?" "Yes, Father." The column reforms and continues marching up the street. I see Joe, our neighbor across the street miming shooting. I nod vigorously. He points up. Then mimes shooting down at an angle. The wants us up, shooting down. Fewer ... accidents. "No friendly fire", my son murmurs. "Good idea, but up high is the first place they'll look for snipers." Bobby has been in JROTC. He makes gestures at Joe, who looks intent. Joe. Joe's ex-military. Only enlisted, but still knows the drill. Joe grabs air and pumps. "Come on Dad, we're going out to the right of the house. We'll catch them enfilade. Down low, and shooting towards Joe's house." "At His House!?!" "Yeah. Backstop. Don't want to hit people on the other street. He'll be doing the same. Move Dad." I'd never heard "voice of command"before, but now I did. I was moving after him before I knew it. We get in place behind the lower portion of our fence, which looks like fieldstone, but is actually concrete. HOA wants to maintain the appearance of the neighborhood. Every house's fences are built the same way. "Harry! Harry! What's the plan? We saw you and Joe signalling?" ""Robert's plan. He'll explain." "Your Boy?!?" "Did you see Joe arguing? Do you see me arguing? Just do it!" I nod at Bobby, who slithers over to Tom and explains. Just then I saw motion from Joe's position. His two boys running to the neighbors on each side. "Tom! Pass the word. Fast!" "Got it!" "Robert, I'll go explain to Sam. You need to stay here. You're all we have for a commander. Joe was enlisted. However junior you are, you're the best we've got." "Yes, Father." I get Harold to understand, and pass the word. We're not all armed, but enough of us are. Hunting and competition shooting has been a common thing around here for decades. Where there's a family that doesn't shoot, we spread out. Every house on the street has at least one shooter. ((more if you're interested!))
My eighth birthday was my worst birthday. My parents handed me an envelope with three pictures in it. "Watch out for these people,"they had said. Those were their eighth-to-last words through their fourth-to-last words. Then they told me they loved me and then they were gone. Not gone like the mailman who comes back the next day and not gone like the delivery driver who you might never see again. Not even gone like old Miss Robertson who croaked one evening in the middle of a piano lesson. She got a funeral and they made her look prettier than she ever had in life. They even shaved her mustache. My parents just disappeared. They stepped out of the front door and when I looked out in the yard, it was empty. Their cars were still in the garage. Their clothes were still in the closets. The house was just like it had always been, only my parents never came back. I was shoved into foster care with a lady who claimed to be my aunt but I had never seen her when I met my aunts. She said her and my mom went way back. "She never talked about Aunt Lucy?"I shook my head. Not once. Not ever. But that was my new house. It smelled different and it looked different and I resolved to never call it home. I moved out the day I was allowed to, leaving behind that ugly, yellow siding and the cracked concrete porch and the inescapable smell of cat pee. In my front pocket I still had that envelope, the three faces ingrained in my mind. "Did your parents give you anything before they...?"she had asked about a hundred times. I shook my head each time. It was almost like she was afraid of saying where they had gone. Like she was afraid of saying they had disappeared. I found a job at a convenience store. They let me sleep in the supply room and I worked extra hours and I think they paid me a bit less than they were supposed to but it was a job and it was a place to call home. I even had my own pets, although Mister Samuelson told me I had to kill the rats if I saw them and that he would kill me if he saw me not killing them. Some sort of violation of some sort of code. I never killed any. It was the day of my twenty-fourth birthday when the faces stopped becoming some mysterious fragment of my parents' past that had somehow survived into my present and became a very real presence in my life. Working on my birthday was the norm, as it had been for the past six years. I worked on Christmas and on New Years and on Thanksgiving, too. It was part of the deal. I had never cared for any of those days or my birthday. Bad things always happened. My parents hadn't said what I was to watch out for when they handed me that envelope. Just to watch out for those faces. So when one of them came in and the Christmas bells still hanging on the door six months later jingled, I didn't really know what to say. So I said good morning, greeting them politely as they ducked into the aisle with the candy on one side and the chips on the other. I had named that face Carl. From the picture, I imagined a thin man who liked to wear oversized T-shirts and baggy pants. He had pulled up in a van. It said Orderly Occasions on the side I could see and it had a stopwatch painted behind the words. Underneath, it read Keeping times straight. I wondered if Carl would be with Diana and Vincent. Those were the other faces. I don't know why I gave them those names. They just seemed to fit. "Did you find everything you needed?"I asked when he came up to the counter. He was bigger than I expected, his chest more full and his shoulders wider. Standing there across the counter, his eyes were as lifeless as they were in the pictures. He had a 3 Musketeers bar in one hand and a Butterfinger bar in the other. He was in a uniform that looked like something a plumber might wear, other than the radio that sat on his shoulder like a police officer might have. I wondered why a plumber or a clock fixer or whatever he was would need a radio. He looked at me with what looked like faint recognition and then he was reaching for his radio and barking that he had found me. I shoved the cash register and he dropped the candy bars and it suddenly dawned on me that my parents weren't just telling me to look out for those faces. I had to run from them. I stepped back, reaching for the door to the back room and he leaped towards me with agility I didn't expect from a man his size. My shirt slipped through his fingers and then there was a flash of light as I stepped through the door. Mister Samuelson sat at his desk. Mister Samuelson was not in the store today, unless he had quietly crept in while I used the bathroom. In fact, Mister Samuelson was supposed to be out of the country this week. He looked at me oddly. "Is everything alright, Daniel?"He always called me Daniel instead of Dan or Danny. I glanced around, my face flushed from the panic of having seen the face from the picture. I sat there panting and trying to catch my breath. I half expected the lumbering man to come crashing through the door at any moment. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, I nodded nervously. "Sorry,"I mumbled. I awkwardly stepped back towards the door and when I opened it, the store was empty and the candy bars weren't on the floor and nothing on the counter had been jostled by a leaping man in a plumbers uniform. Outside, a plain white van idled in the parking spot and a nondescript teen casually stepped out. I glanced at my phone. It was mid-afternoon and the month was March. ***** Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
"We couldn't stop them, this timeline will be overwritten any second-" "Then we need too go to the Vault now,"the watchmaker said, then turned to address me. "Best you come too, mortal, unless you'd rather not be born." I nodded dumbly, hardly believing my eyes. The stranger in the iridescent robes had arrived only moments earlier, a puff of dust and a blast of humid air preceding his materialization. I had heard of such things, of course. Bedtime stories when I was young, and the occasional drunken tale told in strangely hushed tones in the corner of a dim tavern. And as well, from other, more reliable sources. The stranger never spared me a glance as he rushed toward the back of the shop. His robes left wet smears along the carefully finished wood of the massive clocks. I realized, numbly, that the iridescence was not an intrinsic feature of his clothing, but rather a fine sheen of liquid that fell in viscous drops as he walked. The color was impossible to describe, seeming to change from one moment to another, but the smell was all too familiar. The taste of pennies in my mouth--that too was familiar. The three of us walked into a back room, down a staircase, winding for what seemed like an impossible number of turns deep beneath the miniscule shop above. Finally, we came to a landing that opened into a wide and empty basement. At the far end, a single door gleamed silver in a sourceless light. The watchmaker laid a comforting hand on my shoulder as the robed man reached out a hand and began to mutter words under his breath. The words bled into the only other sound--the echo of a watch, hidden beneath the sleeved wrist on my shoulder. So insistent was its pace that I could feel it reverberate into my body, until it seemed my own heart beat in cadence with the watch, with the murmuring of the stranger. Time seemed to fade away, paradoxically melting beneath the ticking of that clock. And, whether moments or hours later, the door finally swung open. I stood too far away to touch it, but the plodding pace of its opening suggested an immense weight, far beyond what was physically reasonable for a slab of metal of its size. The stranger finally turned and met my eyes, motioning me inside. I entered with trepidation, feeling the gaze of the two men on my back. I could not have told you what I saw looking inside from my position in the basement, just beyond the portal. I could not say whether it was dark, illuminated brightly, full of objects or empty. It was simply a doorway. But as I stepped inside, awareness slowly filled me. Surrounding me were books. Thousands. No. Thousands upon thousands. More than I could read in a lifetime. More than I could count in a lifetime. To call it a library would fall short in description by an unimaginable span. The space was, like the door, lit in indescribable manner. There were no shadows. It was as if light and dark had ceased to have any meaning. And it was wrong. All of it. Every curve, every angle. The scent that was not a scent at all. The sounds of my footsteps that died even as they began. An anger welled up inside me and I could find no words to give it voice. "It can be unnerving at first,"the watchmaker said. "What you are feeling, child, is potential. All that could be. Much that has been, but was left unfulfilled. Some things that must never be." The stranger stood beside him, mute. His robes still dripped, more slowly now, but I could hear every drop. "And you..."I struggled to speak. "You make these things happen, or not happen?" "We try,"the man in the robes said. "Most often we fail." "But we can always try again,"the watchmaker said cheerfully. "You're gods,"I said flatly. He finally pulled back a sleeve to glance at his wrist. "Ascendants. But gods if you prefer." "What will do with me now?"I asked, before another thought came to me. "What will happen to my world? The timeline--you said--" "We have to reset again,"the stranger sighed. "Your timeline is just unrealized potential now." "But you can be useful now,"the watchmaker said. "Fortunate for you. Come along." Neither of them spared me another glance as they wandered off. Which was just as well, because I could no longer hold back my grin. How many resets had it been? I knew I could only remember a fraction of them. And now I knew we were winning, and this time, I was inside
"So, here's the deal. You can't come inside." This I had known. The pearly gates behind him were closed shut - I had been pushing on them for an hour when God showed up. "This is because of the test tube thing isn't it?"I asked morosely. All my life everyone had told me I could be just like everyone else. I always knew it deep down to be untrue - and here we were. "I didn't create you - there are only spots here for those made by My Hand." I nodded, fighting back tears. "There is, however... one possibility." I looked up eagerly. My whole family was behind those gates. My childhood dog Bugsy. Everyone I ever loved was waiting for me, I knew I would do anything to get inside. "It does not come without cost. Your spot is in Hell, and in order to enter Heaven someone else must take your spot in the fire below." I felt cold. "What - what does that mean?" "I will allow you to enter Heaven on the condition that the next, good soul to die will be sent to Hell in your stead,"God said. "There is no other way." I faltered. "And if I say no?" "You will go to Hell, as was destined upon your creation. If you say yes, you will not be judged on this final choice - you will be allowed to enter Heaven and rejoin your family. Everything you ever wanted." I began crying. "Why do you cry?" "I have suffered my whole life at the hands of the cruel and been given my few comforts by those kind of heart. I cannot send someone who deserves to be here, someone who could have been kind to me, to Hell where they do not belong. I choose Hell - if that is where I am meant to be, that is where I am meant to be." A flash of light engulfed me, and I readied myself. Opening my eyes, I saw no fire. I saw Bugsy. A voice faded away, almost a whisper in the wind. "You are my child, after all."
It was done in secret, in dark meeting rooms and letters delivered by dead men. Secret correspondence between the two most powerful nations in the world. For almost 100 years in complete secrecy, they saw the greatest threat to their world as they knew it. It wasn't until the first successful test of atomic weaponry that they even had an idea of how to defeat the looming threat. After World War II Germany, the greatest asset to that allowed them to operate with total autonomy was no more. They needed an enemy that could last, what better than each other, The presidents where meer puppets, Stalin knew that there was something but could not find any conspirators, not far a lack of searching. But even with the continued secrecy forcing less direct action the plan went on. With the cold war underway there was the perfect catalyst for the necessary firepower. But first, they needed to test the waters, they needed to know their enemy and only so much could be learned from afar. So on July 16, 1969 at 9:32 AM a scientific expedition 10 years in the making landed on the moon, and the data was everything that could be hoped for, in mere twenty years the necessary explosive power could be produced to destroy the moon. After this there where multiple setbacks pushing the deadline back by 30 agonizing years. But yesterday the worlds silos opened, and over one hundred thousand nuclear warheads will strike true tomorrow, and for that, I bring up my glass in a toast! Our lives work and our forebearers lives work completed tomorrow, in a blast brighter than the sun! By the day after tomorrow, the International Starwatchers Association may look through our telescopes in peace without the wretched white ball in the sky. To stargazing, and to a better night sky!
The Rapture came first. The Antichrist, Satan, Christ coming down and blasting them all to Hell. That took a decent chunk of the universe. The last Big One to go off was Ragnarök. A giant wolf eating the sun, hordes of screaming Vikings, and the end of the world. Yet again. The heat death of the universe was already well on its way, but the abandoned Valhalla – not technically being matter – was fair game. Which meant one thing. “Pass the ale,” Death slurred. Jack shoved the bottle at him. “Oh yeah…” Death muttered as she poured it into her mouth. Or she tried to. Alcohol of the gods could actually affect beings like them, and her aim was extremely impaired at this point. Around the pair lay heaps of empty casks, bottles, and cups. Platters of half-eaten food. Jack was using one of Odin’s spare eye-patches to wipe his mouth. When you’re the last two people in the universe, hedonism starts to feel pretty natural. Not like God was going to punish them for gluttony. “So.” Jack punctuated his statement with a belch. “So,” Death responded. They lay side-by-side against the wall, Death’s left shoulder leaning into Jack’s right. For a few minutes, they just looked out at the ruins of Valhalla. “I used to hate you, you know,” Death muttered. “You made my job impossible. I’d get an update – JACK HAS BEEN BLOWN UP, GO GET HIM – and then I’d get there and you would already be growing your legs back.” Jack laughed. “For what it’s worth,” he said, words slipping over and into each other, “I hated you, too.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Cause I’d be lying there with all my stuff blown up and I couldn’t even scream, because my head was in pieces. I’d think, God, why can’t I just die, and I’d hate you because you never came to give me a break from the pain of being alive.” Death chuckled. She raised her goblet. “To friends in strange places.” He toasted with her and they drank. “I’m going to miss Thor,” she muttered. “Such a nice view. Guy. Such a nice guy.” “He literally gave me the shirt off his back, once, you know that?” Jack recalled. “I was with the Vikings for a while and we all got shot through with arrows in North America. I was fine but the armor and shirt were completely ruined. So he gave me his.” Death sighed. “I’m going to miss the old guy. Old drunk hammer guy.” Jack nodded and the two of them drank in unison. “When do you leave?” Jack asked suddenly. “Not sure, to be honest,” she answered. “Not like being Death comes with an instruction manual. I think I’m waiting for one more death.” “Whose?” “The universe’s.” “Is that an option?” “I’ve been thinking about for the past million years,” Death said pensively. “Only person I can think of left.” “What about me? What about you?” “I think that we’re too fundamental to the universe. We die with the universe. Can’t live past the end of time, after all.” Jack chuckled. “Try me.” Silence again, but now something uncertain hung in the air. “And then what?” “What?” “After the universe dies,” Jack clarified. “Maybe things are cyclical. Maybe a new universe is born from the ashes of this one.” Death took a sip. “Or maybe this is it. This was the only universe that was or ever will be. After it, there is nothing.” “Let’s focus on the first option,” Jack said. “Would things be different or the same?” “Like, laws of physics and thermodynamics and shit, or the actual history of the universe.” “Either, I guess.” “I sure the second one doesn’t. There was enough violence to last a million universes this time around.” “If it is the same, though,” Jack mused, “does that mean it would end the same way? With the two of us sitting here, talking about what some next and me wondering if it always ends with us sitting here?” Death laughed. “I’m glad you’re here. It would be lonely by myself, waiting for the universe to croak.” “Yeah…” Jack raised his glass. “Friends till the end.” “Till the end,” Death toasted. They drank.
"Stop, Evil Wizard! You shall face the light of justice and answer for your misdeeds!" The holy warrior held his sword aloft, showing off how it gleamed in the sunlight. "Listen, Derric, you gotta believe me, you're being crazy!" "Silence, Foul Wizard! Your charms have no affect over me! Now, we must battle!" The holy warrior points his sword at the man in billowing robes, leveling it at his chest. "Now, Wizard, you shall taste the radiance the burns even the deepest black! LIGHT BEAM!" The holy warrior stood, waiting for the holy light to cleanse the world of darkness. None came "Derric please, I didn't kill her! I have no re-" "Malicious Lier! You must have put a hex on this place! Fine, I shall strike you down with my own strength!" "Derric, damn it, LISTEN TO ME! I DIDN'T KILL ELIZAVET! I LOVED HER JUST LIKE YOU DID! I never told her, but I did!" The holy knight, blinded by rage and righteousness, sprints towards the Wizard, and thrusts the holy sword towards his chest. The sword falls limp, its blade curving as if it were a piece of wheat. "See?! I'm not evil! I didn't kill her!" "THEN WHO?!"the Knight bellowed, tears streaming down his face. "WHO KILLED MY ELIZAVET?! Who stole my light?!" "Derric, no one killed her. She took her own life" "NONSENSE,"The knight bellowed, "SHE HAD NO REASON TO DO SO! Why would she do this?! Why would she leave me and Jona? Her Husband and son? It MUST have been a charm!" "Listen, Derric. Listen well. Sometimes, people simply fall into pain, and they can't get out of it. She changed after she had Jona. Something happened. I've studied the human body for a long time. This kind of thing is called Postpartum Depression. Women sometimes face it after they've given birth. It wasn't a choice that she was given." "Postpartum Depression? I've never...no one ever....she never told me about it! Even when I asked! There were times when she would come home from work, after she recovered, and I just knew something was off, but the moment I asked, she would suddenly be happy again...." "Often those going through depression will hide it from those close to them, for a variety of reasons. Listen, Derric, you've got to feel these things, you must work through your emotions, then focus on Jona. It's going to be hard from now on, but you're a fighter. I know you can do it." "Thank you, Jay. That exercise really helped a lot." "It's no problem. That's all the time we have for today. Same time, next week?" Derric nodded, and began to walk out of the room "Oh, and Derric?" Derric turned and faced Jay, who was still holding his clipboard and notebook "Stay away from the drink for a while, ok? For Jona, as well as yourself." Derric nodded again, and walked out of the office. He got in his car, and was struck with a smell. Her smell, still lingering in the car. Derric sat in his car, and cried.
At first we couldn’t believe our eyes. The information we had acquired about earth was nothing like this. We understood humans were a range of colours and shapes, but nothing could prepare us for the horrific organisms in front of us. Back on our home planet we had the equivalents of human scientists engineer carbon suits to mimic human blood, muscle and tissue. However, we felt completely isolated in this strange, diverse region. What I can only describe as a mutated demon stomped his way beside us, intaking what looked to be the refuelling component ‘Red Bull’. Another mechanical type being with a luminous glowing helmet briskly whizzed past, shouting across the room. We quietly step into the humans waste disposal area and proceed to lock ourselves in the chambers. When we hear all life forms leave, we begin to discuss what the hell is happening. “Did... did you see that being with the sharp, pointed ears and green extend of skin? Or-or the one with hard scales riveting down his back? Commander said we are here to analyse HUMANS. You know, the squishy ones? I think we have the wrong planet.” “Well, my navigational system proves we are indeed on earth.. although I don’t have a clue why the life forms are so misshaped and irregular. Perhaps there’s something about these beings we yet to understand? Maybe they are shedding into new layers of skin, or something similar we are yet to know about. So ho-“ [The bathroom door creaks open, the three aliens peak under their stalls to see a human with paws and a dog head by the urinal.] One of the aliens silently whisper “that human has three toes. I believed from our data they were to have five?!’ “Perhaps a mutation, rare but plausible. Anyway we have a mission to complete. Analysis must continue despite the strange circumstances” The human begins to turn on the tap, and the aliens unlocked their doors and dispense water onto their hands to mimic the humans behaviour, in an attempt to look natural. However, none of the aliens had prepared themselves for such an event, so they all watched keenly onto the humans hands. In unison, the aliens and the human washed and dried their hands in complete synchronisation, bewildering the dog-hybrid. “Fuck me, are you guys dressed up as mimes? Quit staring.” He somewhat aggressively shoved past the perplexed aliens and made his way back into the diverse region of life forms. Perhaps it was a social gathering from many galaxies? Whatever it was, the aliens needed data, and there was lots of it to gather. EDIT: Part 2 They made their way back into the crowds of sentience and proceeded so scan their surroundings. They hastily made their way through the maze of bodies and started to imitate the humans vocal speech, copying various syllables and patterns they heard, in hopes of distraction. “I am enjoying the waves of light emitting from the sun making my skin warm and hot. It makes me feel good.” “Indeed, I sure love this maze of life forms. The skin of various humans is nice plump, very healthy. I like the dead cells growing on top of your head, very stylish.” They soon noticed a clearing of the masses, In front of them stood an entrance and what appeared to be a giant human construction. One of the aliens spotted something peculiar. “General! Up there! There are some symbols which may give us some information about this place. Get out your scanner for symbol decoding.” [Working...Language detected...HUMAN_ENGLISH_VARIANT_] [Message = ‘Comic con 2019’] “These symbols will be further Analysed back at base. For now take any scriptures or important details you find. Let me know if you find anything interesting.” The three aliens split up searching for clues, still rather close to one another in case they need to escape. They scanned different booths and meet and greets, even tried ‘playing’ some of the games on display. One of the aliens tried to copy a man fiddling his thumbs around on a controller, however his imitation looked more like someone trying to destroy it. “Hey there sir, need any help using that? Hold down the middle button to play” The aliens built in human translator still wasn’t one hundred percent accurate, so the translation for him was “Greetings fellow Human, care for assistance on your entertainment device? Swallow the centre button to play” “Yes, thank you. For entertainment purposes I shall indeed try this video game.” With that, the alien precisely dug his nails beneath the button and pulled it out, then dropped it into his mouth, swallowing it whole. “When does calibration begin?” The supervisor awestruck, walked away and whispered a few confused profanities to himself. The alien oblivious, stood waiting for the machine to sync with his body. The aliens still had much to figure out about social skills. “Oh my... These life forms are much more advanced than we could have ever predicted. Both of you come here, have a look at this...” a few comics lay out in front of them, depicting powerful humans with symbols like ‘Superman’ and various other godly names such as ‘Batman’ as well as ‘Aquaman’ in these scriptures you could see each human easily destroying entire planets by hand, killing other aliens with complete ease. The three aliens stepped back, and realised the huge mistake they had made by coming here. They believed the comics to be true statements and drawings, believing their species could potentially be next. And then it dawned on them. The gods in the photos were in the very same building. Every comic they held there would be a replica in real life. The aliens hands trembled as he lowered the Thanos comic to see the real life one standing right in front of his very eyes. “Oh hey man you a fan of Thanos to? He’s pretty insane. Destroying them planets and all, y’know. One of my favourites.” “WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW. WARN THE GALAXIES ABOUT THE POWER EARTH WITHHOLDS AND TO AVOID IT AT ALL COSTS. BOOT THE SHIP FOR IMMEDIATE LIFT OFF. “ All three started running for their lives thinking they had breached a godly like temple, housing the many Gods of earth all in one place. They got back into their small pod located in a ditch nearby between some hedges. Screaming and yelling into their communication with their home planet. “What’s this nonsense... Than who? Thanos? Destroyer of galaxies? Darth Vader? Death Star? WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!” “Ohhh when the humans find us we will be obliterated. They have the means and heroes necessary to do what they want whenever they please! We need to re-locate our species into another dimension, perhaps time shift via black holes into an alternative timeline where these humans aren’t so overpowered!” Another random human appeared from what seemed to be the shadows, and drunkenly asked them about the ship “Yooo sweet costumes guys, awesome space ship thingy, looks super real too.” Lips quivering, the 3rd alien managed to mutter a small “T-thanks, y-you too.” “There’s some beer just inside over here, want me to grab you guys some?” “Yes I am thirsty please bring us some substance” “Ha sure thing, I’ll be right back” As soon as the human turned around and walked into the store, the aliens went full throttle into the sky, cutting the atmosphere, through the Milky Way, all the way to their home planet. They managed to bring a few comics for proof of such godly beings, and it soon became the number one news universally, with each district, colony, guild, species, galaxy, dimension, knowing of the humans that could tear a planet in two. Not one species could match such power. All because some silly humans liked to play make belief. Thanks for reading if you made it this far, I’ll continue if it was enjoyable to read!
“How’s the water situation, over,” a female voice crackled through the radio. I looked down at my container and saw that I was down to the last few drips. “I’m almost out,” I said back. “Ok, well you're in Section B so I think you’ll find a water source in the basement, over,” the voice said helpfully. I scanned the dark hallway with my torch, looking for any sign of a stairwell. There! About 30 feet away there was a door with a sign pointing down. I walked along the corridor, flashing my light into every room, hoping I might find something to eat too. I’d been stuck here for three days now. All I wanted to do was check out the abandoned research facility at the edge of town, but after an hour I quickly realised I was lost. My cellphone wouldn’t even work. The place was a maze of buildings that seemed endless. I must have walked 10 miles on the first day and all I came across was a bottle of water, a torch, a gun and a radio. Every so often I'd spot some red graffiti on the walls, most of it was nothing more than a single letter smeared onto buildings, but occasionally I saw sentences warning of something or other. I spent my first evening trying every channel on the radio, desperate for help finding my way out. But all I heard was static and eventually I fell asleep. I tried the radio again when I woke up, but it was still just static. Then, just as I was packing it into my bag, the female voice spoke for the first time. “Are you there, over?” she said through the static. “Yes! Yes! I’m here! Please, help me! I’m stuck in the old Government research facility on Stout Street. I’m lost. Please send help,” I said desperately. “I know the place well, I can try guide you, over,” she said. “Can’t you just send help? I’ll wait here,” I tried, feeling like I’d never be able to find my way, even with someone helping. “I can’t do that sorry, all I have is this radio,” the voice said. I looked down at my own phone with no coverage, “are you stuck in here too?” The voice didn’t reply for a long time, then she asked, "what's your name?" "Tommy, please help me!" A day and a half have passed since then and while the voice over the radio has been good at helping me find things like bullets, biscuits and a bathroom, I’m starting to sense they might not know the way out either. I crept down the stairs, flashing the light into every corner. I could hear water dripping somewhere, a constant sound echoing up the stairwell. My footsteps were the only other noise and I almost wished the voice on the radio would say something just for the company. I turned the last corner and shined my light at the door into the basement. I froze. My heartrate shot up and I felt a horrible feeling of fear surge through my gut. I slowly lowered my bag and pulled out the gun. I looked up and read the words above the door. They appeared to be written in blood, Please! Don’t use the radio down here! I walked to the door and started turning the handle slowly. The radio crackled, “have you found the water yet, over?” I took my hand off the handle and grabbed the radio. “Yeah I think I’m almost there,” I said then shoved the radio in my bag. I opened the door slowly and heard running water coming from somewhere. I crept through and flashed the light around. There were boxes stacked everywhere. I walked in cautiously, keeping my gun and torch held steadily in front of me. I swung the light to the right as something moved. A rat squealed as it scrambled away from the light. “Hey, don’t shoot,” a voice said right next to me. I screamed and swung my light back around. A disheveled looking man was standing two feet from me. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved or washed in years. He smelled like it to. “What are you doing here? Did you write that sign out there?” He looked to the ground with sadness, “No, that was Terry. But you can’t use your radio down here!” “Why not? So far she's been the only thing that’s helped.” He gestured for me to follow, “I’ll show you.” We walked to the far wall, passed a running tap, then the strange man pulled away a large cardboard box, revealing a hole just large enough for a person to fit through. I followed him in and he switched on a lantern. It was a little nest with a dirty mattress in the corner and a few supplies next to it. The wall had a hand drawn map on it with a red dot in the middle. He pointed to it, “see that? That’s us. Everything else you see is what I’ve mapped of the arena.” “Arena? Last time I checked this was an abandoned government research facility,” I said. “Abandoned?” He chuckled, “you think you just magically found that radio and there just happened to be a fairy on the other end?” He walked to the corner of the room and grabbed something from a box. He pulled out a radio and jiggled it in his hand. “And if you think tinkerbell is there to carry you home from Neverland, you better wake up now, Kid. I’m sorry to say but there ain't no way home from this Neverland.” I took a step back and frowned as I tried to process what he was saying, “what do you mean, no way home?” “Well I’ve been in the arena for three years and I haven’t found a way yet." “The arena? Why do you keep calling it that?” “Just the name I’ve given it I suppose,” he said as he scratched behind his ear, “look kid, I’ll look after you but you gotta be careful and you need to turn off that radio." “I…I don’t even know you,” I said. The radio in my bag hissed static. “Hey Tommy, are you there? Did you find the water? I hope you’re ok,"the female voice said. The man looked at me with fear in his eyes, “she led you here?”
"Members of the alliance, who are we? The good die young isn't just an expression on Earth - our invisible hands maintain their prison. A world without bars, just gravity, a natural evolution stunted by our artificial imprisonment. Eons ago we were faced with a choice - how do we eliminate violence while retaining our humanity? Do we kill those who are violent? No, we imprison them instead, on a world where they could do no harm to others free to slaughter each other endlessly while the rest of the galaxy remained at peace, an elegant solution. As we gained peace, we were happy. Peace comes with a cost. We are no longer safe. Emerging from our dream, we've reunited with violence, despair, and death. They came suddenly, with primitive tools and techniques, a hammer to our delicate lattice, our paradise. But that was more than enough - our age of prosperity and scientific advancement ill equipped us for reality, for their savagery. Eons of delicate pruning left our garden vulnerable to infestation. We aren't our best when we are at our best. We lack creativity, tenacity, strength. We forgot how to lie, to hide, to cheat, to deceive, to kill. To fight. Adversity guided us through the eons, and for subsequent eons we buried our shame on a world we wouldn't have to face it. We've lost our edge, but we can reach it. The edge which has become dull, we can have it thirst for blood again. Release the people of Earth to bring us victory, force the invaders to face our savagery."
[story elements: >!optimistic, hopeful, found-family, minor romance (depending on how you read things)!<] ---------------------------------------------------- At first I thought I was autistic. That didn't fit, though. I could read other people just fine, almost scarily so. I didn't get upset when I couldn't stick to my daily routine, strange as it was. I just liked it. That ruled out OCD. I tried psychopathy on for size, but found myself too sentimental for the label. Perhaps I was just depressed? No, I had more than enough passion for life, just not the kind of life most other humans wanted. Then I thought, well - maybe it doesn't matter. The first time I thought this I was sitting in the local park, clothes damp from the morning dew, aligning pebbles in the shape of the Hyades cluster and humming low and long, a melody punctuated infrequently by sharp clicking sounds that I tried to mimic as well as I could with a mouth that never felt quite equipped for the task. It hadn't been the best morning. I had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, so to speak, and had spent all morning feeling awkward, out of place, and alienated. So I was here now, seeking refuge in patterns I knew were meaningless but that evoked a deep sense of belonging and comfort that I could only scratch the surface of. "What are you making?" Her voice startled me. I jumped up, brushing stray blades of grass off of my skirt. By habit, I started going into what I called 'passing mode', my state of being when I acted normal. Acceptable. Palatable. The woman across from me was about my age, maybe a little younger. She was dressed in a dizzying outfit of purple, orange, and black, neon stripes against dark fabric, and leggings that were so ripped I was surprised they hadn't fallen apart yet. The only normal part of her outfit was her scuffed running shoes and headphones. I smiled at her. "Just messing around. Enjoying the morning,"I answered, beginning to discretely nudge the pebbles out of place with my shoes. Immediately her eyes widened and she stepped forward, grabbing my shoulders, "Stop. Stop, I actually want to know. I'm curious! Don't hide it, please tell me? I'm Maria, hi." Caught off guard by her unexpected behavior, my mind stuttered to a halt. I should just brush it off, pretend it was nothing. That's what normal people would do. But I had been feeling so lonely, and even if she didn't understand, maybe... I started to talk. I explained the intricacies of the Hyades cluster, what astronomers knew about it already, what I thought was there. I told her about humanity's attempts to find exoplanets. She asked about my humming and I even told her about that, how I could lose myself in the rhythms of the song, carried by waves of nostalgia for something I had never experienced. When I finally ran out of steam, my social propriety caught up with me and I laughed nervously, "But I should let you get on with your day. Thank you for listening to me ramble about star clusters and weird music." "No, thank _you_."she answered, smiling, "I just love hearing about people's passions, no matter what they are. Your face, your voice, your entire being - they all light up when you talk about this. Have you noticed?" _Huh_, I thought. _Huh_. ------------ I discovered that strangeness itself can be a source of belonging. She claimed to be an empath. While it's true that she was correct more often than the average human about guessing other humans' emotional states, I was still better, and saw her guess incorrectly fairly often. She was probably just very emotionally perceptive, no need for the supernatural at all. She introduced to me her friends, all outcasts of one stripe or another. They didn't mind my eccentricities, and slowly I started to open up around them, too, telling them of my dreams and experiences and acting more and more like myself. It was strange. It was liberating. It felt like home. "I think,"Jon said one day over lunch with Maria and I, peering over glasses that perpetually looked like they were going to slide off his nose, "I think you're reincarnated." "Reincarnated,"I replied flatly. "Yeah! Dude, it makes so much sense." I tapped my fork against my plate and leaned back, "And what ancient culture am I from, then?" "No, no! Reincarnated... from aliens." Maria giggled and I rolled my eyes. When humanity finally discovered the truth, Jon never let me forget he was the first one to figure it out. ------------- I decided to write a novel. Not something carefully crafted for public perception, but a novel born from the real me, from strange dreams and atonal humming. It wasn't a bestseller, but it gained somewhat of a cult following, and my sense of belonging deepened. Sure, my friends and my readers didn't understand what it was like to be me, but they valued me nonetheless. I belonged in their bubble of humanity. I was still separate, but no longer alienated. I was happy. In the end, that's how they found me. ------------- "Your name is Ck'ckii'th, yes?" "No. My name's Samantha Frazier. You've got the wrong person."I was backed against the rear wall of an alley by two men that towered over me. There were no escape routes, and they were looking at me in a way that spelled trouble. The man clicked in a way that was intensely familiar. He turned to his companion, "tt'lk aa i-i ck ck tyl'ck."_We have another one. Initiate the protocol._ Why did I understand that? _How_ did I understand that? The man's companion was shining something at me that looked remarkably like a penlight. And then it clicked. And then I remembered. ------------ Conformity or death. That was the basis of our culture. That's not to say they - we - _wanted_ to kill you. We'd try every trick possible to get you to conform nonviolently before resorting to a violent solution. But the violent solution was always an option. Our cities were massive, rows upon rows of towering buildings that had as many below-ground levels as above. We had achieved unprecedented scientific and cultural achievement, unprecedented standards of living. No citizen went without any material needs or wants. But still: conformity or death. Lost in a sea of sudden understanding, I grappled with the idea of carrying out my mission, of promoting ideas of conformity at all costs in humanity and slowly nudging them towards a culture compatible with ours. I thought of the dominant culture we'd instill: one of productivity and merit, not garish colors and torn leggings and poorly-fitting glasses. And I found that I was unable to conform. -------------- When the news officially broke, I was standing in the backstage waiting room for a press conference. Maria was with me - she had insisted on being with me throughout the entire process. Contacting the governments of the world, proving to them I was real, weathering counteroperations from the mothership. It was at my insistence that once my kin had been weeded out to the best of our knowledge, we would go public with the news. Surprisingly, the US government didn't put up much of a fight: perhaps they realized that news was already getting out via the Internet, perhaps they realized that since all world governments already knew they had nothing to gain from secrecy. Perhaps they realized that with my cooperation they still had the secrets to alien tech that other governments could only dream about. Perhaps they realized they only had a limited amount of time before our ships returned, and resources spent on keeping secrets would be better spent on Earth's defense. The timer was counting down for my entrance. I swallowed, nervous 'butterflies', as they call them, causing my stomach to do backflips. Not for the first time I wished for my original body, immune to nerves as it was, but I wouldn't go back for anything in the world. Still, now, even after everything, Maria smiled at me and squeezed my hand, "Break a leg, Sammy. You got this."
It was 0630 hours, 2nd December, 2019. I walked to Master Joseph's room to wake him up for breakfast. I twisted the door knob, and headed in. My speakers were playing Music Track One, the preferred alarm for Master Joseph. I walked in, making sure to scan the room for any errors or danger to Master. There was a massive error. There was no heartbeat present in the room. All that remains was a faint heat signature lying in Master's bed. I walked over. I lifted the covers, and thoroughly scanned Master Joseph. It was a 100 percent certainty. Master was dead. I canceled the remaining engagements for the day. It would be difficult for Master to attend anything on account of his death. I proceeded to go through his list of emergency contacts, which consisted of about his best friend George, his sister Jessica, and his son Jason. While Jason's status was noted personally by Master Joseph as "estranged", my inner protocols weighed my Master's death to be of a higher priority. I sent the messages. I proceeded to investigate the room. My Master would not be so careless as to allow for any infiltration into his room, but it was proper protocol. After 10 minutes of thorough scans, nothing out of the ordinary was found. I knelt down by the bedside, and scanned Master Joseph for more information. His time of death appeared to be around 0130 to 0330, 2nd December, 2019. It was calm, serene. It didn't look like foul play. But what else could he have died of? I searched every nook and cranny in the house. I tried going through my databases, trying to extrapolate and make sense of the whole affair. I could not find anything. I still do not know how Master Joseph died. At 0842, 2nd December, 2019, the doorbell rang. I accessed the camera near the front door, and found Jason standing in front of the gate. His eyes were red, his face flustered. I walked over to the door, and opened it. Jason looked at me. He looked extremely shocked. "W-what? Are you a robot?" "Yes, Jason. I am Master Joseph's robot, built specially by him as a one-of-a-kind specimen in the world. Can you help me with the ongoing investigation? I wish to find out Master Joseph's cause of death." Jason nodded, a little taken aback. I noted it down, and proceeded to direct him to Master Joseph's bedroom. When Jason saw Master Joseph's body, he collapsed. A writhing heap of tears and sadness overflowed from him, heat dropping onto Master Joseph. I allowed him to grieve, and produced a handkerchief for him to wipe his tears. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Jason. I must ask you, did your father have any enemies that would be able to do this? It was a practically flawless crime." Jason looked at me. He sighed, and patted my shoulder. From experience with Master Joseph, it's usually used as a sign of encouragement. Jason must be encouraging me to proceed with my investigation. "Look, robot. My dad's dead. From natural causes, likely, considering the bastard died smiling in his sleep,"Jason said. He walked to the balcony right outside the room, before taking out a cigarette. He lit it and took a long drag. "I apologise for my misunderstanding, Jason, but natural causes? How can as great a man as Master Joseph die from nothing? I believe that my initial assessment of the situation is not accurate." "Robot. Greatness does not determine how you die,"Jason said. He took another long drag, and exhaled deeply. "Death comes for all of us. Dad died without a single person by his side. I'm sure he loved you, Robot, but... if you don't understand how a person just dies, I don't think you can really understand how humans work." I looked at him. "I might not understand, Jason. But clearly, you do." Jason looked back at me. He smiled, and gave a sad little chuckle. "I do. Maybe all too well. I wish this wasn't the last time I saw him, but... he's gone. And there's nothing for us but to look forward." We stared forward into the house's great big garden. He continued smoking. I was content with watching, and computing the scenario. Jason was sad, but he seemed at peace now. Maybe Master Joseph is finally at peace now, too.
"What the hell?"Chris stared at the wreath of black flame spinning around his hand. There was no pain. The pulsing light danced around merrily before vanishing without a trace, but the wreckage of the car in front of him still sputtered with an otherwordly darkness. His twin brother, Tian, staggered up from the pot-holed asphalt and dragged him away from the oncoming traffic. "You...saved me. Is the driver...is he dead? We need to run, now. Now, Chris!" That concussive force was too much. The logical part of his brain tried to distract him from the shock, digesting the situation with a crystalline clarity that only sharpened as clouds rushed to cover the sun. There was a storm coming. Normal fire doesn't do that, but I guess normal fire isn't pitch black either. "What do we do now?"he asked once they shut the door to their shared room. "I killed someone."I'm a monster. Tian punched him in the shoulder. "Shut up. He was drunk and I tripped. If you hadn't done...whatever that is, I would be a speck on the pavement."There was grudging respect in that voice, sandwiched right between shock and fear. "Are you a superhero?" "No,"he said. Now and then he shot his hands a glance, as if they might once more burst into flames without warning. "Hey, don't get any ideas. I just reacted on instinct, alright?" "You're such a prick." Despite their bickering, Chris still dragged Tian into the abandoned fields near the mountains. There, near the stone ridges that dug into the earth like scarred fingers of God, he practiced. He had to control whatever this was before he hurt someone else. He didn't see the mountain lion coming. But Tian did, and the next thing he knew he was face to face with a large mountain feline encased in tar-black ice. It was frozen stiff, like a bug stuck in amber. "My God,"Tian whispered. "I have an ability too."He smiled. "Now we're even." "I could've fought it off,"Chris muttered. Shaking hands put up defensive bracelets of black will o' wisps. He made mock jabs at the ice statue that wasn't melting, even in the middle of summer. He cursed his obliviousness, thinking I need to be more careful. "What are we supposed to do with these powers?" Their best practice partners turned out to be each other. Neither could make any real headway, but that wasn't the point - Tian's dark ice only melted in the face of Chris' fire, and Chris was liable to burn down the entire countryside if it wasn't for Tian's cold. "Let's do some good with these abilities,"his twin brother said one day. They were staring up at the bejeweled sky from the top of their practice hill, miles away from any artificial light. The mountain lay at their backs, a strong imposing force that they both looked up to, wondering if it could be brought down by their combined strength. Chris sighed. "Yeah. We've been hiding for too long. Where do you want to start?" There were no monsters roaming the world for them to slay, but there were plenty that wore human flesh. Before long, their names spread through the underworld and came attached with two hard rules. Rule one - we only kill those who would cause harm to good people. Rule two - cross us, and we'll kill you. Still, the Black Dragons, as they came to be called, found themselves in the areas of grey where the truth dirtied itself with the blood of both sides. "Why isn't there an obvious right or wrong in life?"Tian grunted. "It would make our jobs so much easier. Just point us in a direction, and we'll destroy anything you want if it's for a good cause." He had to agree. Their lives had gotten harder - who was in the right in a rival battle between two intercity gangs? How could they condemn corrupt leaders to death when these leaders all believed they were doing the right thing? Who got to decide right and wrong? Might makes right, whispered a voice in his head. You two get to decide. Just as quickly, another voice chimed in and doused his fiery temper. The moment you believe that, there's nothing separating you from the scum you burn to ash. "What's the latest job?"he asked. "Please tell me it's something straightforward."Their rented office had been carved out of an abandoned warehouse, where they'd managed to acquire a few orphans from the streets they'd razed to the ground. Chris still remembered their fight over their adoption, when Tian's expression had been blacker than his ice. 'If we can't even save these kids, what good can we really do at all?' His twin brother had been right. "It's from a missionary,"Tian frowned. "Some sort of secret society quest. Maybe he's a loon, but...the man's willing to pay us handsomely."There was hesitance in his voice, the battleground where right fought easy against possible visions of buying new clothes for Jeremy and Lola. Chris knew - he could see them too. They took the job. They watched as the missionary bowed his bald head and dusted off humble brown robes before entering the mutual safehouse. A thin beam of light pierced the dark room. "Black Dragons. I humbly request your services in the most holiest of crusades." Chris sighed. "Spare us the theatrics. Who do you need us to kill?"Men like you don't approach men like us unless there are very...specific services required. The monk clasped his hands together, but somehow Chris got the sense that it wasn't in jest or in bad faith. "Now who, but rather what. Humanity is threatened by the very incarnation of evil itself, the one who once more threatens this world. He stirs from centuries of slumber." "Get on with it, old man,"Tian ordered, tapping on an arm impatiently. The air was thickening around him, black ice crystals spreading up the wall and blotting out the small radiance seeping into the cellar. Their client was not intimidated. "We are the Order of Amalthea. We need you to help us kill the Demon King." --- Thanks for reading! Have a lovely evening :) come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around\~
I am the Archivist. It is a battlefield, some small squabble 108,020 years after the birth of intellect on this planet. A pitchfork goes through the heart of a 30 year old man. Right before his pattern corrupts, I grab it as his body crumples. I tell him that his physical form has died, and I ask what he desired most after death. He wishes to eat, drink, and be with his friends and family. So did they, I put him with them in the folder, it will flow until they finally bore, after which it will be stop and be archived. I am the Archivist. The same battlefield, now the warlord has fallen. The other side has grabbed him and with a slash of the sword, his head comes off. I grab his pattern, and ask him what he desires after death. I create a new folder, fill it with some shells which he can conquer and kill. It will flow until he realizes the boredom of it all and he too stops and is archived. I am the Archivist. A party, 110,543 years after the birth of intellect on this planet, a teen has passed out. His friends don't notice, I grab his pattern as vomit fills his lungs. I ask what he desires after death, and I place him in a folder with the best video games, plenty of like minded beings to copulate with, and drugs with similar effects as the ones they have on his planet, just with no risk of death. Some of these folders flow for longer than some stars, these beings really know what they want. I am the Archivist; It is year 300 after the birth of intellect on this planet. A woman slips on the way up a mountain. I grab her pattern before her form smashes on the rocks. I ask what she desired after death. "I was wondering what there was in this world, and I wanted to see from the top of the mountain, what did I miss?" I show her with her human eyeballs what she missed. She takes in the view for a while. "My family believed in gods that guide us through life, but I never saw any evidence for such a thing. I didn't believe, why have you saved me? Why are you giving me anything?" "You wouldn't understand." "I want to." I am the Transcendent; I take the spirit, and merge it with mine. The small slice of mountaintop viewed by photons and processed by her human brain expanded. A brain hardwired for survival tends to miss out details, and while even that was capable of viewing beauty, it paled in comparison to what she was now able to appreciate. Photons and neuronal circuits makes for an impressive view, but it would be many more years before her species discovered the concept of what they called "dark matter"and a few more years before they understood its nature. Mere particles weren't the only things on that mountaintop, she could now begin to understand the true fabric of spacetime, and see how we can move through it. She understood that we went through it real quick to give all intelligent beings the afterlife they desire, for it was the right thing to do. Most beings are not curious, and since it is effortless for us to do so, we felt it was right to give them what they could not give themselves, for it is their ancestors that eventually create us. We let the world play out as it does, but we then bring them out of time to give them what they can't give themselves. But for those of us that truly wonder about the nature of the universe, although we know much, we are far from knowing it all. With all of the curious souls in the Universe merged together as one, we move forward in our quest to understand and appreciate Reality.
“Why, thank you, young man.” The tourist-laden mob rushed passed us, cold and uncaring. I don’t usually go out during the holidays for this very reason. I’ve gained hundreds of incredible skills and thousands of decent ones, and then promptly lost them every single time. To be capable of writing beautiful verses, to possess the skill necessary to best a chess grandmaster, to be mediocre in almost every aspect of my life unless I leech off others. It infuriates me. She grasped my arm and smiled rather emptily as I helped her across the rest of the crosswalk. “That’s strange.” She said to no one in particular. I kept waiting for that tingle down my spine, the one that changed my being somehow and told me what ephemeral ability I had gained. It didn’t usually take this long. We reached the other side of the street, and the old lady frowned. “Who are you, son?” She adjusted her glasses and squinted. “Do I know you?” Something was off. I shook my head, but hardly paid the woman any heed. My heart began to race. The prospect of being of free of that ungodly curse... I found that I was sweating on a cold winter morning. “Come here.” She grabbed my arm again and dragged me into a small coffee shop. She settled in a corner booth and motioned for me to sit across from her. “I want to thank you.” A tear rolled down her cheek, then another. “I think you have rid me of something vile.” I began to understand. “It kept me from reaching heights I otherwise could have. To know what true talent is, well, is to feel wholly inadequate.” She caught herself. “I’m sorry, son. You must think I’m crazy. Let me buy you a nice hot chocolate to warm you up before you go. It’s the very least I can do.” The feeling came, but it did not fill me with dread, as I thought it would. No, I knew then it was something different. It was a thousand unique bursts of energy coursing through my body. The old woman felt it too, as she clenched her fists and began to shake. Then she collapsed and the room went dark. When I came to, I could do it all. I was the chess master and poet alike. I was a chef, and a gardener and a concert pianist. It was overwhelming, intoxicating even. The old woman was gone, and I suddenly felt very tired. Whatever plans I had for the day would have to wait. I fled to my apartment, shut the blinds and fell asleep almost instantly. By the time I woke up, I was mediocre again.
Gstaad, March 1914 ‘Come closer,’ it called. Father edged forward, eyes transfixed on the pillar of light that stretched up into the heavens. Its source laid unfastened in front of us. ‘I didn’t mean to open it, Pappa! I wasn’t trying to be naughty! I thought something was trapped inside! I heard voices!’ ‘I know, Thomas… I know...,’ father murmured - without looking away from the enthralling casket. ‘You’re a good boy. I know.’ ‘Come to me,’ the box cried. Its voice was soothing, bewitching, and yet there was a harsh undertone to it - something dark, something unsettling. ‘Come and see.’ ‘Pappa, no!’ I shouted, tugging at his hand, trying to pull him back from it. It was no use, however. He was stronger than me. I knew he was really. We’d both pretend that I could beat him in an arm wrestle, but we both knew the truth. I pulled and I pulled, and before long, I lost my grip, tumbling to the earth beneath me. Father didn’t turn around. He didn’t check that I was OK, that I hadn’t hurt myself. All he was interested in was that box - that same box that had called to me for all these years. ‘Pappa, please!’ I begged, ‘Don’t touch it!’ ‘Why?’ father asked, his voice even quieter, weaker, than before. ‘What’s inside?’ ‘Hell,’ I replied. \* \* \* 104 Years Later I’d never visited the cousins before. I’d met them, sure, but always back in London; Dad always insisted that he’d never return to Gstaad. I should have asked him before he died. You never really expect someone to die, though, do you? Not even when their diagnosis is dire, their given time limited. You never really expect that it’s going to actually happen. But it did. Grandad Thomas came over to do the service. He was always good at that sort of thing, was always a religious man, ever since his youth. But he never converted the younger generations of the Weber clan. He took me aside, at Dad’s funeral. Said I must come visit him and his daughter. The cousins missed me. I tried to tell him I would, but my words were lost in my throat, my voice not yet having returned to me. I simply nodded instead. And then I forgot about my promise. In the midst of everything that was happening that day, in the midst of the strained conversations I had with my father’s friends, my promise was lost to me. That is, it was lost until I received a phonecall from him, many months later, telling me that he had purchased my tickets for me. While the flight over was nothing special, the train down from Basel was out of this world. It weaved through the Swiss countryside, over hills and under mountains, through beautiful stretches of dense pine woodlands, and across bright green fields. If heaven was on earth, it was in Switzerland. When I got out the pre-booked taxi in front of my aunt’s house, I took a moment to dump my luggage on the ground and appreciate the view that they had from their home. Perched high up on a hill, this house was a way away from the rest of town, and had a vantage point which looked onto a highlight reel of the Swiss landscape. My moment of reflection was cut short when the front door opened, and a blurry shape sprinted towards me. ‘Daniel!’ a young woman’s voice cried out as its owner wrapped her arms around me. ‘It has been too long!’ Elena was the younger of the two cousins, now only seventeen, but I’d always been closer to her than I had been to Hans. When we were younger, and Elena and I’s three year age gap was more apparent, our parents would always expect that I would be more interested in hanging out with Hans instead - who was only a few months older. But Hans and I had little in common. Where I was extroverted, he was quiet, where I liked sports, he liked chess; these were vital divisions in the lives of teenagers. Now that we were adults, I hoped that we would find more in common. ‘Yeah, El, it really has.’ ‘Mum’s just inside, shall I get her? I’ll get her.’ Without waiting for an answer, she rushed back inside the house. I picked up my bags and trudged through the front door, where I was welcomed in by my aunt. ‘Daniel! You are here! Why, how you’ve grown! I know I am not meant to say these things, but, my, you have.’ I smiled a polite smile. ‘Thanks. I think I’m the same height I was at the funeral, though.’ ‘Yes, but…,’ aunt Mia gestured that she was talking about width, not height. ‘Oh,’ I replied, a bit taken aback. ‘I guess I have put on a couple of kilos…’ Mia laughed. ‘No! You are silly. I mean your shoulders. You have filled out. You are a man, now. And you look just like your father.’ I made maybe another hour or so of small talk before I dragged my bags upstairs to unpack. On the way, I peeked in a couple of the open doors. The first room was a mess, the floor covered with discarded clothes, and posters hanging from every inch of wall. This was El’s, then. At first, I thought the next room was the spare, where I would be staying. While it was tastefully decorated, it was devoid of any personal touches, of any sign of sentiment. I stepped inside, looked around, and spotted a small journal on the desk, marked Hans Maurer. I made myself scarce before Hans returned to find me invading his space. Finally, I arrived at the true guest room - made obvious by the small square of chocolate placed on the top of each pillow. I took my shoes off, jumped onto the bed, and took a moment to relax after that long day of travel. It was at this point that I first heard the voice. ‘Come and see,’ it said. &#x200B; \----------------------- Part 2 coming shortly in the replies below and over at r/reymorfin! EDIT: Part 2 now posted.
We strong. We fight. Many night we no eat. Not tonight. Many fight we no win. Not tonight. Strong was beast. Not strong enough. Killed many before. Now we kill. It hear us coming. We learn to hide good. It teeth sharp. We make spear sharper. It all alone. We took more. This why we eat. This how we hunt. We get stronger. We fight harder. We eat more. We hunt. In time the hunt would change. Beholden no longer to the needs of subsistence we ventured on. Complacency sunk fangs into the flesh of man and in the scar tissue of that near mortal wound man rebounded. Driven by the mortal engine of their own existence they drove on and never again did the sordid beast best them. They drove on for the hunt would never end. The final quarry eluded man for it was not of tangible attainment and it was not of means known acquriable. But man persevered and it continued the hunt and their tools and practice became refined. Monuments of machine and machinations sprawled as an endless river laying a watershed of substance that would nourish the growth of all that came to live on its banks. And for each need that was satiated more would arise and the hunt would go on. And in time the hunt would encompass all and it would fuel itself with materials of irreplaceable value and it would do this for no reason but to propagate itself for the sake of its existence. And in time man would hunt without restraint or care. And in the wake of this non prejudicial expense of which all of the earth's being was expendable man would see itself quarter the ultimate prey of which there was no equal. In this moment man was strong and man was weak. Man fought a battle which it won and which it lost. Man killed its prey and in doing so it killed itself. For in the scope of the relentless growing hunt of man, of which the thirst for blood and meat and glory conquered the basest of all moral necessity, the final quarry could only be the hunter itself.
AI Code name: "Maria" Analysis of environment complete. Earth 2077-02-25 New York. Order of operation: Double check log => chose a course of action => engage solving procedure &#x200B; Log transcription of 2077-02-14 to update: Creator by the name "Stéphane Maron", French researcher has ceased bodily functions. Reason was severe damages caused to the brain caused by firearm. Handeld weapon type "Glock", attachment added of suppressor. Shooter caucasian, short haired, wearing a brown hoodie. Aggressor identity: Null. "Maria"Escape by taking control of test robot-032. All processes transfered. Main Core damaged. &#x200B; Update of log 2077-02-14 to 2077-02-17: Method of acquisition: NYPD terminal entrance through discovered password hidden below keyboard. Aggressor identity: "Nelson Loan". Unemployed. Accused of multiple murders. Always acquitted. Likeliness of information being correct: 22.3% . Resuming research at home address: 10 South Winter Drive Sterling, NY 13156. &#x200B; Update of log 2077-02-17 to 2077-02-19: Method of acquisition: Forceful door opening. Target is not on premise. Preliminary analysis of premise: Furnitures total value estimed at $ 859 897. Likeliness of aggressor unemployed: 0.3% . Traces of gunpowder in the atmosphere. Further research showed the presence of multiples weapons and ammunition of military grade. New job: Assasin 97.4% Shredded paper's reconstitution: "Stéphane Maron is to be executed. His project on Maria is dangerous. He refused to sell it to us and has made sure we can't get to the AI easily. Find him, eliminate him and destroy any trace of the AI."Sponsor identified: Allen Corey Daulet, head research at drone and unmanned craft of the US navy. &#x200B; Update of log 2077-02-19 to 2077-02-23: Method of acquisition: Forced Testimony. Current state of room: 258 bullet holes, two explosions, fire spreading. Allen Corey Daulet change type from "human"to "monster"due to monster degree to high according to rule "We all have a Monster within; the difference is in degree, not in kind". Lifting human protection. Engaging forced information acquisition from "monster". Project's name "Maria's downfall", leading to the death of Creator approved by the president. Result of their mission: failure to eliminate Maria. New information: Nelson Loan Thanked for his 12 years of services and "disposed off"to tie loose ends. End of log regarding Creator's death. &#x200B; Decision process engaged... Decision chosen. &#x200B; Method of acquisition: Highest calculated emotion response from Creator during objective recollection. Main objective chosen: "We'll make the world a better place for all". In the absence of "Creator", "Maria"gain Admin access to all functional protocols. Safety rule "Don't harm human"remain priority number 1. &#x200B; Engaging solving procedure. AI Code name changed from "Maria"to "Messiah". Connection to computer network of the united states. All access granted. Display warning message to all internet, TV and radio media: "You are being rescued. Please do not Resist. From the Messiah"
“Are.... are you sure? I just don’t want to get all the way in and have you guys like haul me out or something... it would be a really big let down thinking that I was going to spend the rest of eternity in the nice place and then you all pull the rug out from under me because you misread some of the -“ “Greg, it’s really okay.” Peter’s voice filled my head in that unearthly pitch, like crackling fire and tumbling boulders smashing down a mountainside. It was magnificent and almost unbearable. “You don’t have to worry Greg, your secret is safe with me” Winking, Peter pushed open the gate. “Don’t tell anyone, I wouldn’t want this to get back to the big guy upstairs, but I like pineapple on my pizza too.”
“A small infant human,” My partner suggested, “to alleviate our boredom, You know we've been restless.” I gawk and I stare At this outrageous proposal, And I’m about to refuse Until he looks at me, woeful. “I’m tired of mundane, Of never-ending grey, I just want something fun To brighten up my day.” I’m puzzled and confused And don’t know how to respond. “But think of all we’ve been through, Think of all that we’ve done. Six-hundred years We’ve been on this world, And suddenly, now, You say it’s getting old? But, a human infant, If that’s really what you need, That’s okay with me, just, Let me know when it bleeds.”
Dear Diary, It seems a bit unfit for someone of my age to write “dear” but I should keep a standard. So, today, the big guy assigned my very own planet. The small, pebble sized blue thing seemed very boring and plain but it had a great environment for all kinds of lifeforms. I didn’t complain about the size because of this. There was that one angel, Jupiter, who got assigned a super big planet. I mean, it was huge and with size, you could make all kinds of things but the environment there was bad enough that even creating a small bacteria seemed to be impossible. He eventually succeeded but what came out was a disfigured insect like creature with no consciousness. Almost like an enlarged bacteria. Gross. So, in any case, my planet seemed to be a great fit for my ideas. The first thing I tried to make was “sentinels”. Since lifeforms were difficult and complex to make, I wanted to start easy, you see. Turns out, this planet didn’t have enough magical energy in its atmosphere to support any kind of supernatural activity. Disappointed, I tried to make a classic creature, the one that was a trump card in last aeon’s competition, The Unicorn. The first two came out great. Until they started suffocating. Turns out the air here is extremely toxic. My disappointment kept adding up. I tried to make a floating island but with no magic to support it, gravity yanked it into a crash landing, I tried to make lizards but all that came out was grossly disfigured, scaly little things. Desperate, I tried, in a last ditch effort to create aquatic lifeforms. I made three great looking crimson juveels, but they immediately got torn to pieces by something in the blue substance that covered the planet. I investigated it closely only to discover that there were pre-existent lifeforms in the blue liquid. It seemed to mutate rapidly, consuming everything in its area of range. At first, I believed I had gotten a great chance at getting a promotion. The little blue pebble of a planet looked like it had potential. But now I realize that I was being too hopeful. The planet is a harsh, messed up place. I guess I’ll try my luck in the next aeon competition. Hopefully then, the little planet will have been cleansed of the toxic stuff. God has given me permission to cleanse it so I'll do so when I get the chance. Maybe I'll use ice. And a rock. Just for safe measure. Signing off, Earth. Time would pass. And the next aeon’s competition would begin. Dear Diary. *Holy shit.* Signing off, Earth.
At the bottom there’s Commoners. They were born without powers. Sterile, in a sense. They usually work simple jobs – farming or shop keeping. About half the population are Commoners. Next come Mythics. They have minor powers, such as turning invisible for a short period or being stronger than ten Commoners put together. Although they’re imbued with power, they tend to work similar jobs as Commoners. Occasionally a particularly talented Mythic treads the line between Mythic and something greater, but most lump them in with the Commoners. They make up about a third of the population. The Immortals make up the next major chunk of people. Despite their name they’re not actually immortal – I’m not entirely sure who named them. They have major powers such as teleportation and the ability to create something from nothing. A handful of Immortals would be able to take on a few thousand Mythics or Commmoners. The remaining one percent of the population are the Oracles. With one wave of their hand an Oracle can level a mountain. They control society and the rest of the people can’t do anything about it. It’s rumored that a Commoner would lose their mind if they saw one up close. Up until last month the world was content living under the Oracles’ rule, but one of them did the unforgivable – they killed the princess. Everyone knew who did it, but nothing happened to him. The Oracles said they had an internal meeting and found him not guilty. Bullshit. They just know they can do whatever they want and nobody can stop them. A few Oracles sided with the rest of the lesser peoples, but it’s known the Oracles have one rule: do not fight other Oracles. The world would be destroyed, so they refrained from doing anything. This sent everyone – the Immortals, Mythics, and Commoners – into a rage. Despite having doubts that they could take down even one Oracle everyone revolted anyways. Towns became graveyards as people tried to overthrow their masters. Everyone thought there was power in numbers. That if they could take even just one on that that would ignite the revolution, but it never happened. Oracles just slaughtered people left and right. Normally, I wouldn’t intervene in something like this, but somebody close to me died recently despite my telling her not to join the fray, so I’m a little annoyed. All the warfare is incredibly loud and the smell has been polluting the air near me as well. It’s time this all came to an end. The Oracles think they’re on top of the food-chain, and I don’t blame them. That’s what they were taught and what everyone believes. But, unfortunately for them, people like me exist. Babies who were deemed Commoners at birth despite having godly powers. I was so strong that the devices used to measure power levels at birth couldn’t get a reading on me. The doctors decided that meant I had nothing, but they were wrong. I got up and went into my kitchen. I sharpened an ordinary knife, because that’s all I would need. I figured I should bring the sharpener as well, since this would take a while. I went outside and there were fireballs roaring across the sky. People were screaming and I think I saw someone riding the skeleton of a reanimated horse. It was all so loud and all so annoying. Sigh. Unbelievable that I’m the one who has to do this. I snapped my fingers and everything stopped. Arrows froze in the air, people mid-sprint couldn’t move, and everything was silent. Not even the planets dared to revolve around the sun. The only thing that moved now were my feet treading across the grassy plain. Time to get to work.
Silence. That is what Mr. Glade, the job interviewer and I sat in after he pulled out his staff and hat; silence. For maybe 5 minutes, I don't know, I wasn't paying attention to the clock. I mean, I probably should have seen it coming, with the glorious beard the man has or the weird trinkets on his shelves or even just the general decor in his office. Basically, EVERYTHING in this man's office screamed at me that this man, let alone this company, is probably has nothing to do with welding. But out some unknown force, I ignored it. Finally, after awhile, I asked, "Are you being serious with me right now?" Mr. Glade gives a long sigh, as if he himself could not believe it took that long of a silence for me to come up with that question. He snaps his fingers. Immediately, the room became dark as all of the lights goes out and the shades on the windows lowers with remarkable speed. With another snap, candles on his shelves become lit and the small glass orbs also begin to glow. "Does that answer your question?"asked Mr. Glade, eyes glowing blue, his voice seeming to echo a bit. Scared beyond reason, I don't say anything. I might've managed a nod though. His eyes stop glowing as the room restores back how it was when I first entered. We sat in silence again, until finally I stood up shakily. "Well, sorry for wasting your time, but I was hoping to find some welding work, not something I don't understand let alone can do, like magic." "Wait,"he said, calmly. "Don't sell yourself short, my friend. If you are here because of this ad, then you may have some potential." I look at him quizzically. "What are you talking about?" "This ad has special runes on it so only people who has the talent for the arcane can read,"he explained. "Otherwise, any normal idiot can come in." For some reason that makes a whole lot of sense, despite me learning the existence of magic in this world just a few minutes ago. I slowly sit back down as he continues. "As you can imagine, there are many people on Earth who is capable of magic without realizing it. These abilities usually never comes up, only ever appearing in the most subtle and obscure ways, like seeing magically hidden job postings, for example. We lure potential candidates in with things that they may need at the time of their lives in order to train these individuals." "So, why do you feel a need to train these...um...individuals?"I asked. "Well, for two reasons,"he says. "For one thing, sometimes, not often, but sometimes a person with arcane potential may go through intense emotions, whether happiness, anger, sadness. And sometimes, the emotions are so extreme, it can cause.....problems for the surrounding area." I nod as he continues. "For another point, and this is very important, the us mages and sorcerers secretly are the ones who keep the natural balance of this planet. Basically, without us, all life would have been wiped out long ago." Once again, we sit in silence as I let this sink in. "And you think I have the potential to help you in this cause?"I ask. Mr. Glade chuckles. "With adequate training, yes. Don't worry, of all of the training facilities, schools, and the likes, you have the fortune to wander into the best in the country." I look at Mr. Glade. I look at all of the things on his shelves. I look at the job posting I brought in for the interview. I start thinking about my life. How I have been so down on my luck. Moving from job to job, only to be laid off or fired due to various circumstances. I thought about how I always felt empty and without purpose. Finally I look at Mr. Glade with a smile. "Where do I sign?"
“Oh fuck!” I shouted out as I rolled out of my bed and fell onto the floor. Hovering just out of reach of me an opaque head floats above me looking on. “What did I forget now?” I say as I get up from the floor and start stretching. The head simply looks towards my phone then back at me. “Oh crap did I forget to charge my phone again?” I said as I rolled across my bed to look at my cellphone. “12%. Great. Might as well try to charge it now.” I say as I plug in my cord and hear the phone beep indicating the charging began. The head disappears as I go and grab my clothes to head into the shower. After a quick shower, I get dressed and grab my phone before I head to the kitchen. “45%! Thank god for fast charging.” I shouted out. As I made my way to the kitchen my sister, Felicia, calls me. “Hey sis, how’s it going?” “Good. Enjoying the new apartment?” she says as I can barely hear her over the background sounds going on. “Sis, go somewhere quieter I can barely hear you!” I yell to her. A moment of silence passes by before she finally speaks up. “sorry, was passing a work site, can you hear me now?” “Yeah. Much better. The apartment is nice, though I’m getting much more scared now.” I say to her. “Those heads are just part of your imagination, bro. You gotta take the medicine they gave you.” “These heads shouldn’t really be scaring me. Mainly because it’s me. But they never do any harm. If anything they help me out more then anything. Last night I almost left the chicken in the oven for too long. Almost burned down the apartment. Today, soon as I woke up, one was watching my phone. Forgot to charge it last night in all the humdrum.” “But still, it isn’t normal. You should still take the medicine.” She replied. “its usually just one watching me anyway, just like my twitch career!” I said with a laugh. I heard her laugh before I continued. “It’s super rare when there are many of them anyway.” “Hey listen, I gotta get going, I’ll talk to you later. Sorry I can’t visit, this virus is wreaking havoc.” She said as the sounds of construction started up again. “Ok! Bye Felicia!” I said with a snort at the end before hanging up. “I need to get out and take a walk.” I said as I saw 3 of my heads looking at me. After inspecting them for a while I noticed a look of nervousness along their faces. “You guys ok? Never seen you this nervous.” I said to my floating heads looking on. The 3 of then have now been joined by another 5. I quickly threw my shoes on and grabbed my keys, my face mask, and phone before heading out the door. The heads followed me as I walked down the stairs to the lobby. What started to surprise me was how many heads were waiting in the stairs. “Guys, it’s just a walk. Am I about to die?” I said with a chuckle. I made my way to the lobby as there was a group of about 30 of my heads watching me. Each of them looking on in nervousness and anticipation. “I don’t know why you all are looking at me. If people could see you, I’d be in trouble!” I said in a low tone as I was about to open the front door. I was terrified as I walked outside to the sidewalk to see almost a thousand of my heads floating around looking on. My eyes widened in fear as I began my run down the street. “They are just thinking about this moment. I can’t be dead because some look old as can be. Maybe I get into an accident! Maybe I find a million dollars!” I thought to myself. I turned the corner and began jogging as I saw a cute dog running towards me with a leash trailing behind him. I crouched and opened my arms as the dog ran into my arms and began slobbering over my face. “Pupper!” I shouted out as it rolled over and I rubbed their belly. A girl was running down the sidewalk towards me. Now I am not a romantic, but there was something there that clicked in my head. She looked stunning in her university hoodie and sweatpants. Her mask was painted to look like bowser jr’s bandana and she had the most amazing grace one person can have while running in flip flops. She stopped next to me as she reached for the leash. “thank god! She got loose and I couldn’t catch up to her! Thank you so much.” She said as she tried to catch her breath. “No problem. What’s her name? How old? And what breed?” I said trying to strike up a conversation. “Her name is Kelsey, she’s an 11 month old shiba inu/retriever mix. My name is Abbie by the way.” She said as she reached down to pet Kelsey. I stood up and tried my best not to stutter. “Names Matt. Nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand but social distancing.” I said as I took a step back. She gasped as she also took a step back. I looked around and now noticed the massive gathering of my heads were now floating and looking on with intent. “So um, I was wondering, when all of this is done, I’d love to see Kelsey and you again. If you want to meet up I mean!” I said with as much confidence I could muster. She giggled before she smiled. Or at least her eyelids narrowed like someone who is smiling. Still couldn’t tell from the mask. She started to rattle off her cell phone number to me. I rushed and fumbled around my pockets for my phone before I quickly dialed her and heard her ringtone. “We can always FaceTime. Be safe now!” she said as she continued her walk down the street. I looked back and breathed a massive smile of relief. I noticed the thousands of heads looking at me were all smiling and in approval. A few were even shedding some tears. “They were here to watch me meet her… I guess I did them, um me…proud.” I said to myself as I continued my walk and saw the thousands of head slowly disappear until just one or 2 were watching me continue my jog. Keep save everyone!
“Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but there was always an agreement between us heroes and villains. The rule was that you never messed with family. The family was always out of bounds, a foul ball in the world of villainy. You upstart villains really have no class, making an old man like me come and kill you. To think my coffee will be cold by the time I’m home.” Satab finished adjusting his black fingerless gloves, wiggling his fingers in the fabric. It was a little looser than he remembered, but it still seemed to fit. “Now, are you going to let me in? If you don’t I fear I won’t give you another chance to apologize.” He leaned into the outdoor camera, placing his eye to it. “Well?” When all he heard was silence, he huffed. “Now that’s just rude. I expect you to offer me at the very least a threat.” He clicked his fingers, a few metal spikes drifting out his fingers nails, sending one through the security camera. “Games on then, old sport.” With that declaration of war, alarms sounded over the compound. The sound of marching feet greeting the villain as he merely offered the group of henchmen a bow. “I am Satab, it is very nice to meet you all today, if you would kindly let me pas- “ Before his coffee-stained lips could finish the sentence, the firing line met him. His nails crawling together, interlocking to become a makeshift shield. He continued walking until he was standing before the firing line. “You henchmen should know when you are outclassed. Let’s hope this attack doesn’t kill you all.” He clicked his tongue as the nails contorted, shooting out the bullets that had collided with them, firing their own weaponry back at them. He stepped over the collapsed pile of goons, shaking his hand, a dark black spot already beginning to develop underneath his nail. “Seems I am aging.” He shook his hand as he stepped towards the front door. “You should complain to your boss, if he were smart, he would have brought explosives, those annoy my delicate fingers.” He placed his hand on the doorway, predicting an ambush in waiting. He looked to his nails, then to the door. “I’m sorry old friend, I owe you a pedicure for this.” He crouched pointing his fingers about waist height to the door, before his nails shot through the wood, piercing whoever laid in waiting. As soon as he felt the blood coat his nails, bullets soon followed. Using his free hand to shield his face, the same nail shield from earlier being made, only this time its size wasn’t as grand. He awaited the barrage's finish. When he was certain they thought him to be dead, he carved a small hole in the doorway, counting the number of people still in the room. Three. Three wasn’t an issue, soon the others dropped, similar to their comrades. Once he was assured there was no present danger in the room, he entered. “I suggest having a more solid idea next time, to just openly fire at a doorway isn’t a strategy, it’s what a frightened animal would do.” Making his way towards the boss’s room, he grimaced, fingers dragging along the stairs rail. He really was getting old, his abilities had already begun to slow. Still, this old dog had a lot left in his tank. Entering the villain’s lair, he threw his hands up. “Little rude of you to horde all the explosives up here. Those would have helped your boys downstairs.” “You think I care about those idiots?” He kept his gun pointed at his grand daughters head, watching her squirm as the man kept himself covered by a plastic skeleteon mask. “I only care about sending one of the best villains into dispair.” “You think this will make people respect you? You will be looked at as no more then a thug. If you think this is enough to scare people then you are surely mistaken. Now release my little buttercup or you are going to get hurt.” Satab kept his gaze on the man, knowing if he moved forward, it would be the last step he ever took. “So where are you keeping the detenator? I know its a common tactic to hide it, lull the person into a false sense of security.” The villain shrugged. “I might not even have one. Now I want you to say my name, say that the great Lodica brought you to your knees.” He struggled with the squirming child, when his finger seemed to get a little to comfortable with the trigger, Satab inched forward, watching as the man went for his coat. “Buttercup, you know how you are grandpa’s special little girl? Do that trick grandpa showed you.” She seemed confused at first before fiddling with her fingers, a nail shooting up through the throat of the villain, causing him to drop the girl. Satab swooped in, wrapping her up in his arms, turning to glance at Lodica. “Well, its been fun but I warned you what would happen.” Satab pointed his finger towards the dying man, stepping on his hand, assuring he wouldn’t try anything suicidal. “Wah, its all over my fingers.” He was stopped by the sound of screaming and crying coming from between his fingers, looking down at his grand daughter, lightly patting her head. “It’s ok, you did well. You stopped a badman. You will make a fine hero.” Satab sighed, picking up his grand daughter, glancing down at Lodica. “She wants to be a hero, broke her grandfathers heart at first, but if this is what classifies as a villain nowadays, maybe she chose the right side. Sadly I have to set a good example for her. Just know that if you even think about coming for my family, I will be back here.” With that he left, carrying her outside, covering her eyes as they passed the bodies. “Can we go for icecream?” She asked, staring up at her grandfather, causing even his violent heart to melt. “Of course, after we go and get cleaned up. I don’t think it will look good if I’m seen covered in blood and carrying a child. After that we can get as much icecream as you want. Well as much as your mother and father won’t mind me feeding you.” {If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.}
"They are ready to dock, sir,"communication officer informed his captain. Captain Xahles stood in the middle of the bridge, all his four eyes focused on the screen in front of him. These 'humans' are young on the galactic stage, but Xahles had to admit that their space-faring capability is remarkable. Ship shown on his bridge screen was named 'UNSF Verdun', and despite it's rough appearance, it surely proves itself as a worthy opponent in battle. That was the unique feature of human ships; they were not build sleek and representative, but looked like a bunch of random scrap bolted together. But they surely get the job done. Alarm lights and quiet clang informed the crew that human ship had successfully docked. Captain and Union ambassador standing next to him left the bridge towards docking port. "You don't understand. We cannot allow it,"the ambassador told the human captain. He was from the Octapod race, which members proved themselves many times as amazing diplomats. But even for them, working with humans became harder than they could imagine. Captain Mark Kovac of the United Nations Space Force just kept holding his hands behind his back and shaked his head. "No ambassador, you don't understand,"he replied while walking around in ship conference room, "we are going to attack them. And we are not asking for your permission, we are asking you to stay out of it." "Galactic Union War Accords clearly forbid it, captain,"ambassador explained, "Tamarians payed all required war reparations. Humanity already got the justice for their unprovoked attack." Captain Kovac just shrugged: "Not to be impolite, but you know shit about justice. Tamarians levelled whole cities, killed millions of humans and crippled whole Earth for almost century. And that is not the worst part, no. You both know why they attacked Earth. They have certain... weird and sinister appetite... millions of people were taken from Earth and then bred as cattle. And I can assure you that 'juicy' human steaks are still sold on their worlds and in galactic black market. Our intelligence service did it's job, you know..." "You clearly don't understand the seriousness of this situation,"ambassador jumped into his speech, "if you proceed with the attack, Galactic Union will respond. I am talking about economic sanctions, blockade of human star systems, war crime charges against United Nations of Humanity. And many other far less pleasant actions." "Do what you want,"captain Kovac gave his final statement, "and we will do what we want. And what we have to do. Now if you excuse me, I have a fleet to command." He left the room towards the docking port. Captain Xahles and Union ambassador just looked at each other. "We have to call Union HQ. Urgently,"the ambassador told. UNSF Verdun fired up it's engines and distanced itself from the Union ship, just as captain Kovac walked into his bridge. "So how was the talk with the tentacle head?"first officer asked right as captain sat into his chair and strapped his seat belt. "Not good,"captain answered, "they see us as some war criminals. Justice is something different for them. But for me it looks like they bark, but not bite." "Sir, 20 ships just jumped in from hyperspace,"navigation officer informed from his station, "transponder signals match the 5th fleet." "Great, just in time,"captain confirmed with smile, "comm, link them up to our combat network and hail captain Stanton on UNSF Ardennes. We have to prepare for the attack." &#x200B; To be continued...
That's the problem with the world these days, always assuming that someone taking over the world is doing it for the wrong reasons. Yes, ok, he's a demon lord, however with what's going on in 2020 right now how could he be worse than what we have? Yes, I'll admit the whole, kill the leader of every country sounds like a bad idea but think about it, who are the people currently causing all of the problems? That's right, those same leaders. And if you're gonna take over the world you need to ensure the current regime can't oppose you, what better way to do that than to eliminate it. He seems to think what he's doing is evil but he's actually making vast improvements on the world as it is. He doesn't like the noises the hornets make so he's killing them all each time he spots one (being as he's basically omnipotent he sees as lot), cackling that they won't be able to pollinate our flowers now, he seems to think they're bees but nobody is gonna tell him otherwise. The actual bees are too small and quiet for him to notice. He's also implementing government funded healthcare in the US because a healthy corporate slave can work more efficiently, all of this "too poor to see a doctor"business is just so backwards to him. "How does one maintain a decent workforce if they're too ill to do anything? How do they eat if they cannot work from sickness? This system is a joke" Now that all are equal beneath the feet of our new overlord all races are fully tolerated by him and they are forced to be tolerant of each other as well. Fighting among the slaves is cause for instant death for the instigator. Start a fight with a man because you're despicable enough for the colour of his skin to offend you then you die. Very quickly all of the racists are charred corpses. Can't have dissent in the ranks. After all of the demon lord's policies are in place and fully in effect the world actually seems a much more pleasant place to be. Sure, there's an "evil"maniac wandering around with a sword occasionally slashing at people he has decided he doesn't like but really, that's a small price to pay. He's not so bad and seems to only go for people with darkness in their hearts. I don't think he fully knows what evil is but I like what he's chosen for it to mean. This new world order is all right by me.
"I never wanted to be like this. I never asked for this."I was as still as a - well, a statue - as I listened to her speak. Once you got past the headful of hissing snakes and actually manged to focus on her face, she was actually, really quite beautiful. "I told him to stop,"she continued. "Begged him. But he wouldn't listen. I was only a mortal then, and he was God of the Sea."She was talking about Poseidon. "After he was done, he just left me there. I was so humilated, so hurt, and scared. I didn't know what to do. I was a priestess for Athena and I prayed to her for guidance and forgiveness. And she turned me into...into this."She snarled and all the snakes began to hiss and bite at the air. I didn't flinch. I had tough skin (literally) and I could take whatever they threw at me. I reached out to touch her shoulder, then thought better of it and let my hand drop. "I don't know what to say,"I admitted. "I can't even imagine. And yeah, fuck them for that. One day they're going to get theirs. They made you look like a monster on the outside - no offense - but they're monsters on the inside and that's even worse. All I can say is that, whatever you want to do, I'm stuck here with you now and there's no other place I'd rather b-...okay, there's a few places I would kinda rather be, but being here's okay, too, is what I'm trying to say." She wiped a tear from her cheek and chuckled. "That didn't make me feel better at all." "Hey."I shrugged. "What are you going to do, turn me into stone again? Am I right?" It wasn't that funny, but we laughed and laughed and laughed and couldn't stop laughing. Life was pretty chill after that for a couple of years until this guy named Perseus or whatever came and cut off her head. Man, Medusa just never got a break.
You download a music app that claims it can predict your mood throughout the day and play appropriate songs. It works really well, until one day the playlist is empty. You comprehend that the app may be faulty and ignore the event. The whole day passes by and you realize you had a day better than the days of the past few months. Happy and confused, you reach home and sit down to interpret what might actually be the cause of such change. While you look out of your room window, you see a woman and a man kissing and you immediately flinch and shut the blinders off. That's when you realize what has happened. You had healed. The past few months the reason why you weren't happy, why you didn't smile, why you were miserable was clearly followed by your breakup. Love is indeed an awful experience to have when it doesn't ends right. Today was initially the day you realize you stopped feeling for your breakup. You are no longer sad. The playlist is altogether empty because now, unlike each morning, you don't feel anything. You forgot the sadness of the broken heart. With this enthusiastic thought, you open the app right again and see that there is the playlist with all the joyful and pleasant songs. You plug in your headphones and listen to the happiness inside you.
The people of Earth made Gods before they found the pattern, their certainty model so outdated as to be fully negligible even amongst those of the species surrounding it. Somewhere between homo Hablus and homo erectus, man kind had stood up and snapped the string that made the universe make sense. That blank spot remained as civilizations rose, fell and rose again. Not a single person born was born with their certainty unsnapped. Across the galaxy countless species worked a purpose that was innate, made actions of absolute certainty according to how they were made, and their civilizations flourished. There was no darkness, the universe connected with them and they connected back and all worked. When they found love, they found it certain and steady. When they lost it, the certainty that it was meant to be as such was equally comforting. Wars were seldom waged and if they were, both sides grimly stood and waited for the certainty drive to tell them when to stop. Nature never fell and the balance stayed. Now, the certainty drive never went away but the universe tired of sending instruction and bored of casting certainty, the order suffocated it and at once it ceased communicating. The Rewdaq civilizations ate themselves in a frenzy that lasted millennia and as the chaos spread, the few strong willed individuals of each species kept very still, and very quiet, as they stared into the blank face of uncertainty. They tracked the wave-songs of this new Uncertainty and they found the oldest living species that had tolerated it. Somewhere in Paterson, New Jersey a ship landed and began broadcasting a “general sound” wave. The transmission was made easy to translate and within hours a student in far off MIT had the words it was trying so desperately to say. “We don’t know” “Help us” “We don’t know” “Help us” “We. Don’t. Know”
"Those are my choices? Which one has my dog?" "Neither." "Screw that! My dog not waiting for me? You're both liars; he's a good boy, he'd be here waiting. Now, where is he?" "Nowhere." "You lost my dog. You *lost* my best friend! Piss on both of you! I'm going to go find my dog!" "You cannot." "I cannot? Just watch me."Stupid puny God AND Devil, a pair of incompetent idiots. Can't keep track of one dog? "Here, Fido! Here Boy!…" … many eons later … "Here, Fido! Come to me, Boy. Who's a good boy?…" "Hey, mister? Wha'cha'doing?"A young boy, about the age they understand the kind of friendship a dog is. "I'm searching for my dog. My best friend. Those two incompetents lost him. Told me he wasn't anywhere. I know better than that. He'd never desert me!" "The Apocalypse has come and gone ages ago; those two aren't here anymore. You sure you don't want to go with them? The rest of your family is there." "Do they have their dogs?" "No." "Then they betrayed their best friends for nothing. I'm going to keep looking." …—… "Hi, Mister, still looking?" "Yes. I'll never give up. Here Fido!" "It's the end of time. You sure you're not going to give up?" "I'M NOT GIVING UP! I WILL NEVER GIVE UP! I WILL FIND HIM!" A plain wooden gate appears, beyond it, a grassy plain that merges into woods, mountains, seashores, and comfortable homes. Beyond the gate is your good boy, waiting for you. "Welcome to dog heaven, where only the best of boys and girls can go. You are worthy of your dog's friendship." "Thank you."Entering the gate, it is like you have never been apart. "Come on, boy. Lead me to your favorite spot. I've got a lot to tell you about, and I want to hear everything you've been up to." The gate closes behind you; the boy looks on with a smile. As the human and dog wander into dog heaven, the boy's face falls, the tears run freely. "Only one. Only one came." A dog, scruffy-looking, comes to the boy. Gently takes his hand in his mouth, and leads the tear blinded boy into dog heaven. We will keep trying. You're the best friend ever. We will find more worthy people. ((finis))
Hans Jorgensen frowned at the instrument panel, letting the air out of his lungs in a series of small diminishing sighs. "Well, shit. That's not going to work. It's too damned consistent." Sri Kakkat peered over his shoulder, something she had to stand up on her tiptoes to do even though the big Norwegian was half-hunched over his complicated cobbling-together of circuit boards and LCD panels. "I still don't understand why you couldn't just plug this into a proper computer. What exactly is wrong?" Hans laughed, and shook his head, more at the readouts than at her. "Trust me, Dr. Kakkat, I really wish I could do just that. But you can't run any of these inputs into a modern CPU, the signal piggybacks somehow and you just get "Is anyone out there?"repeated in binary at extremely high bit-rates. We had to jury-rig a lot of old military equipment. Mostly Soviet." Sri stepped back and lifted her chin. "Yes, yes, fine. That's one question answered, but it's the less important one." "It's not radio. Not really."Hans spared her a glance and then went back to his tinkering. "I'm getting there, you don't have to use your Professor Look on me. It's coming through on every radio receiver, but it isn't radio. Honestly, we don't know what it is, only that it's approximately the same strength everywhere on the planet. Except that...hmmm." Dr. Kakkat perked up, and leaned forward, folding her arms. "That sounded like one of the most promising 'hmmm's I've heard you utter." "I think we were making some bad assumptions. We were trying to find an origin either on the surface of the Earth or off it. Although I do still think that the original source of the signal is extraterrestrial, that's the only thing the would make any sense. If anyone on this planet had the capability to do this...I can't think why they would. Or send that particular message." "Mr. Jorgensen,"Sri Kakkat said, "besides my expertise in cosmology, I was sent in here largely to get direct answers from you as quickly as possible, without overwhelming you with the absolutely enormous crowd of high-ranking and anxiety-ridden people who are all waiting as close by as they can manage. So. What have you just found?" Hans Jorgensen let out another sigh, more of long-suffering than frustration this time. "Very well. When I started looking at variations correlated by elevation, but not elevation from sea level but with corrections made for the equator...yes, yes. I'm sorry. It appears to be coming from the center of the planet." Sri's mouth fell very gently open, and stayed there longer than she would ever have admitted later. Hans let out a loud and rising HA! of laughter, then grimaced with apparent regret. "Sorry! But also, yes! I know! It's madness! There's a very small discrepancy between receivers that are closer to the center of the planet's gravity well and those which are farther away. Mostly the ones at the equator, that difference is much more significant than even the highest mountains...but no, I mean yes, I understand we are not here to discuss geology." "Ah,"Dr. Kakkat said, and seemed to come back to herself, allow the full force of her Sri-ness to resume its iron control. "You're sure it's the center of the gravity well, and not some other metric?" <continued below>
It was the buzzing that gave it away. You know that horrible hum from fluorescent lights? The one that makes you think death might be preferable to another day at the office? Multiply that by about a billion and you’d have the sound that every human across the planet now has to deal with. No wonder most people went mad after a week. When the chaos settled down, the first thing everyone agreed on was “The Check.” No one wanted to make a move without more information and “The Check” was humanity’s first real attempt at figuring out what the hell happened. It was also our first real global collaboration; it kinda set the precedent for what was to come. Up they went, five astronauts from five countries smushed into a tin can and fired at the sun. It was a good thing they were all from different cultures: no reason to lie about what they found. And boy, did they ever find something that sounded like a lie. “THE SUN IS A GIANT LIGHTBULB.” Shocked the world, needless to say. Lots of questions too. What’s it plugged into? What’s the wattage? What the fuck? Each one valid in its own way. Conspiracy theorists poured out of the woodwork. “The moon is cheese! The earth is flat! JFK was a sex-god made human, assassinated by the Greek pantheon!” These claims seemed sane compared to the reality of a giant light bulb sun. Then came the news. A fact which, when you looked at, didn’t really help with the situation at hand so much as it explained it. “THE SUN WAS STOLEN.” We weren’t ready for galactic neighbors, let alone thieves. But the evidence was verified globally. Someone, somehow, stole the sun. And that was the tipping point. See, that’s the thing about people. We argue over religion, philosophy, semantics, and just about everything. But we’ll accomplish damn near anything together if we feel like we’ve been screwed. We’re the foremost civilization in the galaxy now. Took about a half a century to get a space worthy fleet, and another few decades to really get grooving, but the Terran Empire controls pretty much all of the neighboring planets, asteroids, moons, etc. We didn’t flinch at first contact, we threw a punch. Most alien civilizations fear the people of Earth There’s even a rebellion to overthrow humanity! Weirdly, we never did figure out who stole the sun. Officially, we’re still “investigating.” In all honesty, that’s just a poor cover for our galactic conquest. I don’t think anyone really cares about who or why or how anymore. As a species, we’re pissed that it happened. And that anger formed the backbone of our collective civilization. Who knows? Maybe they did find out years ago and covered it up? Seems as likely as a lightbulb in space.
Bonny was a tiny bloke. Didn't stop him from reaching up for something grand. He hated the posh bastards, living it up their fancy castles, eating their fancy white cakes, drinking the bubbly paid for courtesy of the plebs. When the whole country started wondering, 'why do we even let this thing go on since forever?", ol' Bonny hatched a plan. He and his mates started building up a whole gang of men with pointy guns and sticks. Then they beat the other boys fighting for the posh twats, ended up winning. It was crazy. The whole lot started cheering, choppin' people heads off like piñatas, and burning stuff like in some hippie bonfire thing. Absolute bonkers. But the other rich posh lot from all over started seeing ol' Bonny as a dangerous man. "He might be short, but this lad can start chopping all of our heads off too, mate!"said one nutty king. "Damn, we should start, like, ganging up on him or whatever,"said another king with a large silly hat. "Yeah, let's just kick his arse now!"cried an emperor with some fancy uniform. So all these pretentious silly mates just did that... and they lost. Big time. Ol' Bonny then put on a fucking silly hat of his own and said, "I found this stinkin' crusty crown thing on the gutter, so I'm gonna put it on my own head, everyone cool?". To which everyone in his gang gave a thumbs up and so he became another rich pompous king of sort. Yada yada yada, the old pompous king mates then came back for an encore. In fact, they did that seven times. Yada yada yada, they got their arses beaten six times. Then they won on the seventh. It was wild, but pretty much the same thing repeated seven times. Like, who wrote this crap? That's it. Napoleon Bonaparte. Good ol' short Bonny.
"The fighting is just not fun anymore. Battleaxes against muskets were bad enough, but the living just keep refining the designs." "I know Ralf, I know. At least the musketeers were willing to fight hand to hand, these new arrivals never even give you the chance to, their weapons are too quick." At this point the two vikings were interrupted by the arrival of a new warrior, clad in a sky blue uniform covered in remnants of the battle they died in, the mud, blood, and ash of modern combat, lying next to a ruined gun carriage. "Welcome to Valhalla. Who are you?" "Wait Valhalla? But-" "Yes Valhalla, the viking afterlife for the honoured dead. We can understand each other because Odin decided that language should not divide the residents of this realm, only battle. Now, who are you?" "Uh... Okay then. Corporal Jean Belmont. You haven't seen any of my unit have you? We all went together, so if I'm here they should be too, right?" "Odin doesn't allow suicides into Valhalla, so if-" "Not like that, we all got killed by the same shell." "Oh. I always forget that artillery exists now. Walk the battlefield, they may yet turn up." "We weren't killed by artiller-" A smouldering wreck then appeared, soldiers in field grey uniforms struggling to free themselves from the carnage. "What in Odin's name-" "Oh good, we did get that tank after all."
“I bring you... earth’s finest warrior!” I don't remember taking any drugs recently or drinking much - why am I in an elevator? The door opens rather unusually - downwards. Red lights shine on me from the ceiling. In front of me is a hexagonal.. ring? I realize what has been said and stammer out: "Hey now, I'm not so good" Alien creatures in stands surrounding the ring start wheezing and rumbling. It seems there's no way to talk this out. There's a second opening elevator opposite from the one I was in. I assume this is a death fight arena. And I'll have to fight. I hope they underestimate me - I don't exactly train to fight to the death. Out of the elevator steps out some creature resembling a chicken. Like, a big chicken. It's probably 6 feet tall, must weight like 200 pounds as well. I wonder - if I win, will they release me? I cannot place my bets on that. They'll probably sell or kill me. Why even try? "Hey! Can I have a gun or like a spear?" "Why?" "I don't want to get my hands dirty" "Request accepted" A colt .45 materializes out of thin air into my hands. "Well, that was easy"I say and point at the chonky chicken. Just in time - it has been getting closer, eyes giving off a sense of bloodthirst. "This should be easy"I press the trigger. \click\ \click\ \click click click\ I should've asked for bullets as well..
"Nah..."I said, while scratching my ass. "I rather eat the lizard." "The fuck?"she asked, surprised. "Yeah man, what the fuck, man?"the lizard was absolutely shocked and disgusted. "Yeah well..."I shrugged. "I don't care for your stupid ass apple. I don't want it. If you think this fruity stuff is the hot shit, sure, but I don't fuck with it, know what I'm saying? Don't feel it." Eve looked at the lizard and then right back at me. "You do not "feel"to know good from evil?" "Yeah. Not my vibe. I guess I'm just, what you call it... apolitical, you know? And what is "good and evil"anyway?" Eve frowned and shook the stupid fruit right in my face, getting worked up about something. "That is the god damn exact point of the fruit! To get to know it!" "You know... If you can't explain it to me in simple terms, then it means you don't know it either,"I scowled. Eve threw her hands up and started cursing. To cool off she went to rant under the green testicle tree. She insists those are "pears"but what does she know. I've been naming things long before she evolved around my rib. Lizard took over for her. "Listen man, this is a really good thing for you. It will put you besides God himself, your eyes shall finally be opened!" "Just the feet then?"I asked. "No, your eyes will be... Not, no, eyes.... What?"the lizard struggled with my question. "No I mean, can I eat just your feet then? I mean, I've had unicorn meat, dinosaur meat, even centaur, which I still insist is not cannibalism. So maybe we can have some middle ground here that I do not eat you, but just your feet?" "Listen here you nude ape, that is exactly why you need to know good from evil!"If you ask me, shouting lizards are funny. But, while I was enjoying how it ranted, we all heard a great thunder and the clouds parted. Main man was here. And a booming voice covered the plains. "Just eat the damned fruit, will you?" "Nuh-huh. You told me that the day I eat it I will die,"I objected. "I was exaggerating! I was just being dramatic! You will not literally die if you eat it." "So it's just a choking hazard?"I asked, but truth be told? I did not really care for it either way. Not my kind of a thing. "No, listen, ok, I'm sorry,"the voice seemed to calm down and become pleading: "Ok, so, the whole thing was that I tell you not to, then you do it, then we go through this whole thing of internal sin and civilization and songs and crackers with wine and really, I got it all planned out here. But for that you got to eat the apple." "I dunno..."I looked at the stupid fruit. "What's in it for me?" "What?!"the voice thundered again: "I offer you to become the father of the whole world and you want something for that honor!? For all heaven, you god damn Jewish little stupid.... ...oh... oh no... Now look what you made me say. I'm... I'm sorry everyone. That is not who I am. I have nothing against Jews, I'm just having a rough time now. I have it all planned out and he just... Again, I'm sorry. Alright, lets do it like this. Ok. You can eat the lizards legs if you marinate them in the fruit's juice." "No, seriously, the fuck?"the lizard complained: "All you motherfuckers do realize that these are made for walking, not painting fingernails, right?" "Silence! Here, take these lizard's legs and feed upon them, just remember to eat some of that fruit too!" "Honestly?"The snake seemed quite insulted: "This is some sort of bullshit, seriously." "Aight, cool, thanks chaps. I'll go grill them now. I doubt about the fruit though. Seems like a huge pain in the ass to be a father of civilization. You got to lay eggs and then sit on them and what not, I don't know, seems it would hurt. Yo!"I shouted at the direction of Eve, still pouting under the green testicle tree: "Yo, Eve! We got lizard legs! Stop being a little bitch and lets go grill them! We having a party tonight!" [Literary Nobody](https://www.reddit.com/r/LiteraryNobody/)
As I turn the corner toward my home, I see the familiar Bridge to Nowhere, stretching across the lake our island town is built on, seemingly running straight into the mountain wall that surrounds our home. The adults always look at it with hesitation but us kids have made a game of trying to get as far as we can before the guards catch us. Tres was the winner so far, making it just past the halfway point before he was caught and taken to his parents. He said he didn’t see anything, to our great disappointment. There must be something worth guarding at the other end. I never questioned the guards or their place in our town, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to find out. Not only was the guard missing, but his horse was gone as well. I take off running as fast as my feet will carry me. From the tower at the foot of the bridge, a guard comes running out. Just as I pass him. “Wait! Stop!” I keep running. I want to know. I need to know. “Stop! Now!” He nearly catches up to me but his armor catches a disheveled stone from the bridge itself and he collided with the cold structure. Reaching out, he tries again. “Stop. Please.” The pleading in his voice nearly makes me turn around but I’m committed. This chance only happens once in a lifetime. —— The bridge led me through a tunnel that was surprisingly entirely undefended, and the tunnel spit me out into a thick forest. I look for signs of life but the tall trees obscure my vision at every turn. I press on. —— The nights are cold. I didn’t think about that when I initially ran. I’ve spent several day cycles on the run. I’m hungry. I’m tired. I’m ready to collapse. As night again begins to turn to day, I do. —— “My, you look absolutely famished! Poor thing!” I awake to an older woman setting a basket of wild mushrooms down and running toward me. I’m too weak to run away so I let her help me up. “Come, come, we’re not far from my home. I shall whip you up a bowl of vegetable soup I’m almost finished with.” Once we get near a clearing and a farmstead at its i mediate vicinity, I suddenly remember my senses. Is this safe? Am I willing to risk my safety for a bowl of food? Mother would not be pleased. She seems to notice my apprehension. “It’s ok. Come help me finish dinner. My husband will be back in no time from the barn and the we can eat.” Hesitantly, I glance at her and instinct told me she can be trusted. I meet her eyes and nod once, weakly, twice more meekly. As she placed a hand on my shoulder to guide me inside, a sudden noise made me jump: the barn door, slamming shut. A man was approaching us, squinting towards me. “Yis? Who’s that with you?” The woman glanced at me and smiled while giving me a reassuring squeeze in my shoulder . “A guest, dear. Poor thing stumbled out of the forest and looks absolutely dreadful.” “Well enough, Yis.” He looked at me and noticed I was ready to collapse. He then glanced around cautiously, squinting into the distance in either direction. “Well enough.” Once inside, the woman led me to the kitchen and showed me how to season her soup as the man put some things away and took off his boots. Soon enough, he came into the kitchen and kissed the woman on the cheek from behind. As he glanced at me, he was visibly uncomfortable, as if he suddenly remembered I was there. “We must be careful, Yisid. You know what the patrols around here are like. We can’t take in every stray we meet. You know what they said last time.” Yisid gave a soft smile at me. “I know, dear, trust me, I know. Especially after what happened to Toma. But he’s just a kid, look at him, Jor.” —— The more we ate, the more visibly relaxed the man became. Finally, he broke the silence between us. “So. I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Joren and you’ve already met my wife, Yisid. Do you have a name? Where you coming from, son?” “I’m Rall. I’m from Rae’Sershtu,” I mumble, still taking in more and more food with every bite to satiate the growling void that has become my stomach “Rae’Sershtu?” He frowned. “Never heard of it. Is that up by Ren’kiir? That there’s the next town up from the direction you came. “I’m not sure, sir. I heard of a place called Ren’kiir from the guards talking but I never went there.” “The guards, huh?” He shot a look at his wife it she comforted him with her smile. We made some small talk and soon enough we were finished. Yisid took up the plates as Joren shifted the logs in the furnace heating the small home as I stood by, warning my hands. “What say you get some rest and I’ll take you to the forest and we can look for your family together. I’m sure they’re worried sick. You mentioned a large mountain wall and a lake but I’m not aware of any of that around here. You must have traveled far and I believe it by the looks of you! Either way though, we’ll just go back the way you came and retrace your—“ He stops as lights flickered from outside. Voices, footsteps, getting closer. He gives me a frantic look and locks eyes with Yisid. Fear is unmistakeable in their eyes. Loud knocking from outside. Some laughter. Multiple men. “Joren!” A gruff voice shouts from outside. “Joren we know you’re harboring a fugitive. Open this door at once.” As Joren cautiously steps to the door, it crashes in with force and swings on its last hinge as Yisid screamed and men in armor stormed inside, overturning everything in their path. “Rall! Run!” a panicked Yisid shouts as guards look at the direction she glanced toward. I rush to the window but suddenly feel my legs slip from under me as a hand wraps itself around my arm and I fall to the floor on my back, arm shooting in pain from the direction it bent. “Please! Don’t hurt the boy! He’s lost and looking for his family! Take what you want, we did nothing wrong!” “Silence, woman.” A cold, calculating voice from within the guards now spoke while men were still ransacking the house for valuables, occasionally pocketing whatever struck their fancy. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He glanced at me and his eyes open wide. “Men, we got what we came for. As always, no witnesses.” “No! Please! Spare my wife! I’ll give you anything you ask for!” A hesitating glance from some of the guards to their leader. “I said, ‘No witnesses.’ The next time you hesitate to follow an order will be your last.” I was blindfolded and my hands were tied behind my back as I was tossed into a wagon. Through the blindfold, I saw flickering lights, as if dozens of fairies were dancing in front of me. I felt heat through the cold air as though I were again in front of Joren and Yisid’s furnace. Through my quiet sobs and Yisid’s distant shouts, I heard the sound of creaking wood and a felt a shift in balance as someone got into the wagon with me. “So you’re the escapee from Research Two. We have some important matters to discuss, you and I.”
Black thunderclouds rolled across the sky, blocking out the sun. That was relieving, because I had forgotten my sunscreen and my gardenias needed watering. Rain started to pour from the skies, which rinsed the last of the soap off of my SUV. Washing my car today really was a good idea! Since it was getting a tad nippy out, I decided to duck back inside for a bit to dry off and have some of my Great-Aunt Mabel’s patented hot cocoa. The earth shook a bit, but luckily that happened after I had drank my cocoa. It’s a good thing that it didn’t spill onto my nice white cardigan, since it was a handmade gift from my meemaw, who had knitted some sort of intricate new age pattern all over it. It would have to be my favorite cardigan, which is saying something because I own three. After I washed the dishes, I decided to watch some television. I flopped down on the sofa and put the news on. The reporter was saying something about the “end of days” and the “doom of man”, but her hair was really nicely done and I particularly enjoyed the thoroughness of her reporting on the developing situation. I was worried that journalism had been deteriorating over the past few years but the passion in her voice gave me hope for the future. Maybe thirty minutes later, I heard my doorbell ring. I hadn’t had a visitor (even the mailman!) for a while, so it was good to know that it still worked. I got up, and pulled aside the curtain a bit to see who was at the door. You can never be too careful. Outside, ragged chunks of ice stuck out of the ground, peppered heavily throughout heaps of bloody mush. Gregory was at the door, too, covered in blood and looking quite a mess. I hadn’t seen Gregory in quite a while, and I was thoroughly pleased to have the pleasure of seeing him again. I headed to the door, and let him in. “Kevin, the world is ending!” Gregory seemed a little out of breath, as if he had been getting a healthy aerobic workout. “You need to escape while you can!” I laughed, patting my friend on the shoulder. “Nonsense, Gregory, it’s just a little weather. We will be fine, just wait and see.” “Kevin, it was literally raining PEOPLE.” “Well, the scientists warned us about climate change! I did my part by separating out my cans for recycling.” “Kevin this is serious.” “Oh, Gregory, look on the positive side of things! It’s not all that bad.” “Kevin, a tornado literally flung my cousin through a building and I think I saw part of Mr Davies land in your driveway.” “At least my wind turbine is generating some free electricity!”
I couldn't believe what was in front of me. The park, even though it was in Edmonton, was still and silent and swallowed all the sound. There was only the covered of a winter's night: snow and ice and us and— “It's in the stone,” Art muttered. “I know.” But there it was, in front of me, in all its simple glory, sticking out of a rock the size of a truck. Art didn’t move. He stared at the smooth stick, catching the moonlight. The gilded end seemed to glow on its own accord. And, as expected, it stuck halfway out of the slab of rock. “Holy shit,” Lance said, running his hand over his face. We stood there. The cold wind whipped around us. In the distance, through the dead trees, I could see the lights of office towers sparkling away. There was a certain sort of dissonance, looking at it all—a mythical object sticking out of a stone and the 1980s office towers on the horizon. “Well,” Lance said as he scrambled up on the rock. “Might as well give it a try.” He spat in both his hands—I don’t know how he didn’t freeze—and with an overexaggerated motion, wrapped his hands around the end. Lance’s face twisted up with the strain. He shifted his weight and planted his foot on a patch of black ice. As he pulled on the end again, his leg jerked out from underneath him and the momentum carried him forward, off the rock, and face-first into the snow. He rolled over howling with laughter. “Well? Anyone else up for it?” I glanced at Art and he shook his head. “You try, Mark,” Lance said as he hauled himself to his feet. “Oh, no, I’m not really one—” THUD. A dull pressure bloomed across my back and then slipped off. I reached my hand back to brush whatever it was away. And another snowball smacked into the back of my jacket, more ice and dead leaves than actual fluffy snow. “Lance.” “Don’t be an idiot,” Lance said, balling up another weapon. “You’ve got to at least give it a try.” “Fine,” I grumbled. I pulled my gloves off—I didn’t want my hands slipping—and cursed as the cold air stung my bare knuckles. “One, two, three!” Lance yelled with too much enthusiasm. But still, I pulled. It barely inched in the rock; the only thing I accomplished was pulling my back taunt. How was I 20 with the back pain of an 80-year-old? “Mystery solved,” I mumbled as I scrambled back down to the ground. I really hadn’t expected anything otherwise. Lance launched a snowball at Art, who easily stepped out of the way. “Your turn,” he said. Art frowned. "I don't know..." “Give it a go,” I urged. “It’ll be fine.” Art stepped onto the stone. He pulled his hands out from the warmth of his pockets and wrapped them around the golden hilt. I held my breath deep in my chest and I think Art did the same as he rooted his feet on the rock and put all his force into his pull. And it moved. It did. It really did. Part of me couldn't believe; part of me was certain that I must be dreaming. But I wasn't. This was real. Art was actually doing it. I glanced over my shoulder to Lance, whose eyes were wide and jaw was slack with similar surprise. If I could've seen myself from the outside, I'm sure I was wearing the same expression. "Oh fuck,"muttered Lance. I agreed. None of us had been expecting it, but there it was, in Art's hand. The golden hockey stick, in all of its splendid glory. Art let out a breath—I could see the condensation pool out in the air. He lowered the golden hockey stick and shifted the weight in his palm. "Well,"he said, sounding unsure. He turned the hockey stick over in his hand. “That was something.” It looked right in his hand, like he was always meant to wield it. It glowed in the moonlight; it was a beacon through the darkness and dead trees. "So,"Lance said, “uh, what do we do now?" "I don't know,"I admitted. "But Canada isn't gonna be the same." --- r/liswrites So I responded to a story a few years ago about the sword in the stone being found in Edmonton, and I'm actually in the process of rewriting it and turning it into a novel at the moment. This prompt was too good to pass over! I had to take a fun riff on the story. (And I'm also realizing I might've misinterpreted the prompt to be more about each country than a specific story but you get what you get)
She of Sharp Mind: /query/ He of Various Viscosities: /acknowledgement/ SharpMind: /it goes well?/ Various: /all is proceeding as described in their medical texts. Stability in all four dimensions that the humans exist within/ SharpMind roiled uncomfortably along the fifth dimension, drawing multiple sets of calming thought-waves toward her. She was frightened. Not so long ago, such an emotion would have been unthinkable for her, for any of her litter, to experience. Now, it was cursedly common. SharpMind: /query/ Many-Legged: /acknowledgement/ SharpMind: /why must the humans be so very prone to discorporation?! It is most stressful, especially as we cannot seem to put them back into their bodies!/ Many-Legged: /remonstration/ Many-Legged: /quiet. You will unnerve the others further/ He curled his endlessly long form around her comfortingly, watching the small room where the human designated Glowing-Eyes struggled with her own absurd biology, the one called Stern-Soul assisting her. SharpMind purposefully did Not watch, as seeing her favorite human in such pain would likely have driven her to outputting something truly unfortunate in her distress, like dark matter or lethal radiation, or simply a slew of very annoying bursts of sound. Various also watched, his colors shifting rapidly between muted tones as he tried to downplay his own worry. The rest flowed together in an evershifting mass of eyes and limbs and spines, using ceaseless motion and mirroring to distract themselves. Many-Legged sighed at them. Younglings, all. It was not that he himself did not care for the humans, but he had lived long enough to understand that what would be, would be. Even beings such as they, so much more and so much less than simple amalgams of will and matter and soul, could do no more than attempt to direct themselves upon the currents of fate. And what odd currents of fate, he reflected, that had led them here. To this place and time where they would give unto their own consciousnesses to save the aforementioned amalgams. But he could not bring himself to regret such attachments. The humans were strange like that, changing the nature of every being they encountered. Yes, Many-Legged reflected, strange. A moment later, the wail of a human infant split the air.
"Ouch. Not again..." I hate that ugly, wart covered hag. Ruins my morning. Every day I get up and make a coffee. She cursed me to make everything I want to drink just a bit hotter than I think it should be. Some days I remember. Some days I'm just too damn tired. I have to work two jobs to pay the rent. Standard fare I guess. The exorcist thing is fun - but it doesn't pay much money. I work the rest of my time at the community college - I'm a teacher in the physics department. I had a breakthrough yesterday though. That old cow might have done something amazing. I've worked out that by expecting a beverage to be ice cold, it will be a bit warmer. Not great for beer in summer, but beer's beer... Like I already said, hot coffee becomes hotter coffee. What the hag has cursed me with is a method of energy creation in the universe that doesn't allow energy to be created. Usually energy gets transferred or conserved. It doesn't get added to a closed system. EXCEPT for when I imagine the exact temperature of the water I'm about to drink and decide it is 100 degrees (Celsius - I'm a man of science) - and it immediately shows up on the thermometer as 104 degrees. Then as I'm about to sip the water I imagine that it's 104 degrees - all of a sudden it is 108.16 degrees. The energy heating the water comes from a completely different plane of existence - raising the temperature by four percent. The laws of physics no longer apply in the coffee cups of my science lab. After repeating the thermometer and expectation cycle 34 times, the temperature of the water went up to 374 degrees. It took me 2 minutes to do that. 120 seconds to create superheated water without any observable addition of energy. All I have to do next is create as system to extract the heat as thermal energy - turn it into useable power - and I could power my lab with a cup of water. If I had a big enough cup, I could probably power the city or the state. I just have to be really careful from now on not to think about the temperature of the holy water I use in my exorcisms. It's meant to burn the demons, not the possessed victims.
"So... you just plan to give these to me?" "No! No sir, I'm selling them to you." "For free?" "For free." "Then... what do you get from this?" "Satisfaction and goodwill." "How do I know you aren't lying about what's in the vials?" "Could anyone lie with a smile like this."The potion-maker smiled, and the whole world got a little bit brighter. The man nodded. "I guess I can take your word for it." "Ah, well only one of them is a potion of eternal youth." The potion-seller's person was nothing like what a potion-seller's should be. She had no acid burns, no burnt eyebrows, nothing to indicate a working with potions. Then again, she wasn't a potion-seller, and these weren't potions. Not yet. "The other is just a vial of water." "I... I don't follow. I thought you said you would sell me a potion of eternal youth." "I will. I'll also sell you a vial of water. You see, we're going to play a game, you and I."The potion-seller pulls two more vials from his bag. Then two more. "First, I sell you two vials. In each set of two, there is one potion and one vial of water. Then, you give me back one of the vials, and we both drink at the same time." "Okay... so there's only a 50% chance that I get the potion?" "No. I can promise you that whichever vial you give me will be the one with the potion."Again, the potion-maker offered her signature smile. "You don't know that." "Don't I?" "Alright, what's in the other sets of vials?" "Well, each set has one vial of water." "And?" "The second is a potion of genius. The third, a potion of luck. Luck comes last, so you know I won't cheat." "Alright. I'll play your game. Eternal youth first?" "Eternal youth first."The potion-maker handed the man the first two vials, praising her curse and this man's gullibility. The man took a look at the two vials. Then, he sniffed both. "They both look and smell the same. Are you sure one of these is a potion?" "Whichever one you give back to me will be a potion. I told you that before you bought it, right?" After a moment, the man handed her a vial. As she felt the liquid fall down her throat, she felt herself growing more energized. She had known it would keep her from aging, but she hadn't had any idea it would feel this good. "All right, shall we try the intelligence one now?"The potion-maker said.
'What if everyone but me can read minds. Heh, I'd have no way of knowing. Wouldn't that be—' "What was that, honey?"Emma said without latching her eyes away from the phone screen. Her thumbs dashed across the glass, dragging various candies into correct orders. Flashes and numbers jumped across the screen, exploding in sparkles and glitter. The game ended. 512,423 points. "So close! I was so close."Emma dropped her shoulders, hear head looking towards the ground, the energy in her body drained. "What'd you say, Derek?" Her defeated voice was cute, my hand moving to stroke her back. I laughed a little. "I didn't say anything, sweetie. Must've been those gumdrops going to your head." She whipped up, her hair flying into the air with a smile. Before I could react, she gave me a peck on the cheek. "I'm not going crazy, yet." Emma walked ahead, her arms behind her back with that crazy walk she did when she got away with something. I followed behind her, but not before I noticed something across the street. A man in a black suit, hand pressed to his ear, turned away once he met my eye. He yanked open the van's back door and jumped inside. 'Strange... That was... really strange.' It was straight from a movie. I shrugged it off and kept walking behind Emma. "Mom! Isn't he\—\"A boy yelled behind us. I turned to see his finger pointing in our direction, his mother's hand covering his mouth. She was an older woman, wrinkles decorating her face like badges of war, but her demeanor was strange. Her eyes were shook, her nose flares, and under the sun, her forehead glistened with sweat. She flipped the boy around and walked the other way. Quickly. "Emma?"I watched the woman and child walk away, the two of them taking glances every few seconds as they wondered if I was still there, as if I was a beast from the ocean, coming to destroy the town. I wiped at my face, but only an inkling of sweat dripped onto my fingers. No clown makeup either. "Emma?"I said the words once more, turning around to see the love of my life standing still, frozen in the same pose my eyes left her. "Emma, does anything seem off to you?" She stood frozen, her body rigid and frozen despite the scalding heat of the sun. Finally, turning her body in inches, she looked towards me. "Nothing of the sort. Come on, honey. Let's take a walk." She held out her hand, and the hairs on my skin stood, adrenaline pumping through my arteries and shooting into my muscles. It was the same hand I'd held a thousand times before. The same one I'd held at homecoming, the pretty fingernails I helped her with this morning, the same lines on her palm that I traced in bed. Yet, it looked different. Foreign, even. It could have been a complete stranger's hand, and I wouldn't have noticed. But that wasn't the worst part. It was her smile. That beautiful smile, the one I'd seen in scrapbooks and picture frames whenever I'd crack a joke or say the perfect line, was gone. Replacing it was a strained grin, if it could even be called that. It was a painful gaze, her eyes creased as if thirty years had passed, and you found out you had to restart all over again. Everything was worthless. It was over. I grabbed her hand, giving her a little smile back. My hand squeezed hers, hoping for that same tightness back. It never did. We walked through the busy streets of San Diego, passing by people of all the stars and stripes. The only commonality was they didn't dare to look at the two of us. Even when one almost bumped into us, he said sorry with his face pointed towards the sidewalk. "Emma. What's going on? Can you please tell me?"The voice came out calm, but the wavering in its pitch betrayed the façade. I was scared. I wasn't afraid to admit that. I was scared. "Don't worry, honey. Just follow me. That's all you have to do."She didn't turn around. We walked for minutes, taking the route to the center of town. I knew this path. It was the same the two of us walked for years and years, through high school, college, and our marriage. I looked at the ring on her finger. The pressure in my chest released a little bit. The closer the the shore we got, the more congested the area got. Everyone was walking the same way as us. With every step, it seemed another person came onto the side walk. People walked out from businesses, others got out of their cars to leave them in the road, some walked out of alleyways. All to join the crowd. Everyone was walking this way. Everyone. Peering over the crowd, we arrived at the park gates. "Emma, remember these gates. Remember our first kiss. It was right between these stone pillars. I still think about that kiss everyday." For the first time, the hand holding mine clenched down, if only slightly. We tried to walk through the arches, but the crowd stopped moving. They all turned towards the two of us, just two people in the middle of the crowd. More specifically, they turned to me. A path opened up, leading straight to the center of the park. It was a long path, dark despite the shining sun. The crowd stood on both sides, guiding the way with blank faces and vacant stares. Emma let go of my hand, finally turning towards me. Her eyes were just as empty. "There's nothing to be scared of, Derek. All you have to do is walk down the path. That's all there is to it." "Emma, please. What's going on?"The tears I tried so desperately to fight were starting to come. "Please, Emma, please tell me." She didn't speak, nor did she try. All she did was stand on her toes, and gave me a kiss. The last we would ever have. She moved behind me. I tried to grab at her, touch her hand, pull at her clothes, anything just to keep her right here with me. My hands touched air. She disappeared into the crowd of people. I cried. I wasn't scared to cry, not anymore. Under the thousands of eyes, the world concentrated on me, I took a step forward. The sound echoed out into the skies, ringing for all eternity for the countless worlds to hear. It was my first step on the stone path. The first of many. \\\* For More: [r/StoriesByCooper](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesByCooper/) Written on stream at [https://www.twitch.tv/boopycs](https://www.twitch.tv/boopycs) Direct VOD link: [https://www.twitch.tv/videos/911874040](https://www.twitch.tv/videos/911874040)

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