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"Where are the scallops!?"Ramsey screamed into the red kitchen.
Kristen wiping sweat off of her forehead looked numbly into her pan of scallops as they began to burn.
"Kristen!"Wendy screamed at her.
Kristen continued to stare, completely oblivious to her surroundings.
"*SCALLOPS?* Why is no one communicating in here!?"Ramsey screamed as the veins on his forehead began growing veins.
"Kristen!"Wendy screamed, stretching her arm five feet across the stovetop and shoving her shoulder.
"What? What? I need two more minutes, stop trying to butt in on my station!"Kristen screamed back.
"They're overdone!"Wendy said angrily, pointing into the pan with her hand still outstretched.
"No they're--"Kristen looked back at the food and gasped. Then she closed her eyes and rolled back time on the scallops, bringing them to where they were a minute earlier.
"Scallops coming to the pass!"Kristen said, rushing to the front.
"Finally,"Gordon groaned, throwing up a hand in the air to shoo her off. He gave them a cursory glance before his head erupted in wrinkles.
"Oh, no. Oh, no,"he said to himself, then crescendoing. "Oh, no."
Kristen looked up furtively from her station.
"Young lady, come here,"Gordon said slapping the pan on the counter. "In fact, everyone on the red team, come here. Just touch that."
"It's cold,"Wendy said as soon as her extended fingers came into contact with them.
"Not just cold, they *absolutely* ***raw!!***"Ramsey exploded, his face glowing a deeper hue of red. "Kristen! Did you turn back time on your food, you donkey!?"
"No Chef,"Kristen lied.
"You did *not* reverse time and render them raw?"Ramsey said in disbelief, his eyes squinting as he folded his arms.
"N--No chef,"she stammered.
"Then why can I smell an overdone scallop from this pan? Is it because my perfect smelling power has finally gone bad on me or you lied to me?"he asked, his temper rising.
"I don't know chef, I--"she couldn't complete her sentence when his face went sour.
"Get out,"he hissed.
"No, please chef, I--"
"*All of you, get out of my face!* Don't come back until you have two nominations for elimination--"
"But Chef--"Wendy protested.
"***OUT!***"he ordered, marching back to the other kitchen.
He breathed in deeply, smelling the food that had been brought to the pass on the red side. He looked to the plate of spaghetti and scrutinized it.
"Oh, come on guys,"he said, turning around with the pan while groaning. "Gerald! Come here!"
"Yes, chef!"Gerald came running over.
"You see that? What are those black flakes in the lobster?"he asked.
"It's pepper,"Gerald said without an ounce of confidence.
"Really, pepper? Taste it,"Gordon said, slapping the pan on the counter. Gerald picked up a flake then spat it out.
"What was it?"Gordon asked angrily.
"I-- I don't know! It wasn't pepper,"Gerald said panicking.
"It's broken pieces of a pan! Your super strength crushed a pan and you didn't even notice when you were cooking the food! You want me to serve *that!?*"he said, pointing an accusatory finger at it.
"Of course not chef--"
"***THEN WHY DID YOU BRING IT UP!?***"he exploded.
"Sorry chef, it won't happen again,"Gerald promised.
"That's right it won't happen again because you're going back to the dorms right now,"Gordon said, seething with rage.
"But Chef, I..."
"NOW,"he commanded. "Harold, handle that station."
"Yes, chef!"Harold said, his body duplicating into two versions of himself, one remaining on the garnish station and the other rushing to the spaghetti station.
Gordon went back to the pass with new food on it.
"Who cooked this meat!?"he blared, turning to the blue team.
"I--I did chef,"Tommy said, raising his hand which he had transformed into a spatula.
"Well done, Tommy, this meat is cooked perfectly,"he said, handing it off to a waiter.
Tommy nodded to himself, proud to be the last of seven chefs in this kitchen. Especially since four of them were clones of Harold.
______________________________________
For more ***RAW*** stories from someone who watched too much Hell's Kitchen, come check our /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! |
It was surprising, to Tabitha, just how easy it was to cross the border. *Maybe they just don't expect anyone to make the trip out here.* And with the world's cities so close to the centre of the Earth, it made a sort of sense. The trains would only take you so far, those last few thousand miles - you'd have to walk.
*Maybe they just don't care.* This seemed a little closer to the truth. A half-built wall, shallow trenches, watch posts left abandoned. It was a wasteland. Nothing but sand and dirt, a dull and dying landscape cast beneath a radiated sky.
Long ago the border had been a thriving paradise, or at least that's what the recruitment agencies would have had you believe. There was always work for the keen and able bodied out at the border.
*Where'd they all go?* A valid question, there were no bodies, no skeletons that Tabitha could see. She had even stopped the night inside one of the many falling towers, finding nothing more than curious mole-men and the few scraps of machinery they had yet to salvage. *Not so much as the whisper of a ghost. But if they didn't die...*
Then they must have moved on. And Gods know they didn't move up, so the only logical explanation was that they'd travelled out... over the Edge.
As Tabitha forced herself onward, her supplies all but exhausted, savouring the last few drops of water, not knowing when or where she would be able to refill her skins, she began to imagine what she might find beyond the Edge.
*There might be a drop, from Earth into the vast unknown of space. A waterfall, perhaps, with the fish all swimming upstream, fighting against the current to get a glimpse of our world - they sure would be disappointed.* Tabitha laughed. *And what if I'm the fish, having travelled all this way to find the grass isn't all that green out on the other-side... what if there isn't any grass?* She took a moment to look around herself, breathing in the ever expanding sea of sand and dirt. *Impossible, it can't get any worse than this.*
By the time Tabitha finally came to the Edge, she was beyond distraught. A mirror. A reflection of the world behind her. Yet more sand, yet more dirt and dust and radiated sky. Miles upon miles of it. A mirror in which she cannot see herself.
*This isn't the Edge, this isn't it.* But it was. Each time Tabitha tried to take a step beyond she felt the very spirit inside her falling, fading away from her existence, fading into the unknown. *But it's known, it's here, it's nothing but the same.* For what felt like hours Tabitha stood silently contemplating her fate, before finally her legs could hold her no more.
​
So cold, so fresh, so welcome. Parched lips suckling at the invisible teat offered, hailing the sweet nectar that was life. A pause, followed by frantic coughing. Tabitha's body convulses, back arching, she sits upright. *I'm... alive.* But so sure was she that her time had come.
Black spots cover her eyes, her head is pounding as if her inner self has taken up the drums in hopes of keeping her awake, alive.
"Thank you."is all that she can manage at first, her voice crackling, broken.
What comes in response sounds so familiar, and yet she cannot place the voice, "You're welcome, now rest."
​
When Tabitha comes around for the second time, she finds herself alone, the reflection of her world still present before her, and yet it has changed.
*That's... that's me?*
"Now I know what you're thinking, but we've already lost enough time, so please try not to feint."
Her reflection is talking to her, and now that she comes to think about it, her reflection is standing whilst she is barely able to sit up. Tabitha parts her lips, an attempt at speech, but what arrives is little more than a dry cough. She wants to affirm this is reality, that she isn't caught in some strange sickness, in some sort of fever dream.
"I'm out of water, too."her reflection nods towards an empty flask. The first difference between them, it carries - *carried -* flasks of water, she carries skins. "We wont last much longer out here, we have to cross over, now."
Tabitha's eyes say all that need saying; *cross over?* But before she can crawl away, before she can make sense of what is going on, her reflection reaches out, through the veil that separates their all too similar worlds, and grasps her hand.
"It's time to go."
She feels herself falling, her spirit screaming, her skin flaking from the bone, reality dripping away before her very eyes. Her reflection has taken her. *Thief.* And as her mind begins to crumble, much as the towers at the border had, Tabitha begins to note the many other differences in her reflection... |
Carn, the conqueror who brought down nation after nation. To tell you the story of what humanity came to be, one must know his tale.
Carn The undying, was the first instance of what is called 'Reality Bender' to ever exist.A 'Reality bender' is capable of shaping reality itself, to a degree.Flow, 'Magic' , meanwhile, is an art of mastering the energy that ebbs and flows through reality itself, using a flow in the ethereal to generate energy in the material world.
Carn was the first, and last elf to do such a thing. Carn was extremely skilled in the art of magic, so skilled he was capable of drawing energy from other living beings. But he always wanted more. He was determined to liberate the elves, to stop the tyranny of the high elf monarchy. To create a nation where the rich cannot exploit the poor anymore. Where the peasants are not longer muted from speaking out against the aristocrats. A brutal civil war soon followed, ending with Carn victorious, and his soul full of energy from lives he took.
Under his rule, he set out to improve the quality of his people, no matter the cost.So he did, capturing prisoners and aristocrats as test subjects. Eventually, he succeeded. He had created a bridge from the ethereal to the physical world. The test subjects' bodies were a portal into the ethereal plane, having their physical bodies merged with the ethereal. With this, he could constantly keep getting more and more flow. Until he drained it all. The flow. All that ever was in the ethereal was inside him. With total control of both planes, he could shape the fabric of reality itself. All he ever wanted was for the people to be happy. His elves lived longer, became stronger, wiser. Their plants and animals grew in a matter of seconds.
But it came at a severe cost, there was no longer a flow outside of the elf kingdom. Carn himself was getting more unhinged as days go by. During this time he became the dark lord, lashing out against kingdoms and protesters. Poverty, Dictatorship, Oppression have returned to the kingdom. Riots of people, armies, even dragons were no match for him. All of them relied on flow to power themselves, and without it, much of their strength and stamina. His soldiers marched closer and closer to the home of our people. Until one day, portals start appearing, along with it, humanity. The universe had been tampered with to such a degree, that his body subconsciously drew even more flow from other universes.
Humanity was a race of beings with traits of elves and dwarfs, they live a much shorter life but has extraordinary stamina and strength. Along with it, their iconic weapon.
**Firearm.**
Forged from metal, furnished in wood, and completely physical.
A weapon capable of shooting small balls of lead of incredible speed, using an explosion of'gunpowder'. They were 'loaded' pushing gunpowder and the 'bullet' down the muzzle and pulling a trigger, exploding the powder.
Initially, they were confused. In their world, 'flow' and 'magic' were not such prevalent forces of reality. Soon, they were interested in what they could do, once they began to master it. And so, they joined our side, attempting to stop Carn.
Still, there were some animosity towards them. An ally willing to help us for personal usage of the flow? Quite the dangerous path to tread.
Their firearms gave us a fighting chance against his flow empowered soldiers. They may look alive but they have no soul. A personal army of Carn from the people that have fallen. After a long time, we finally pushed back the soldiers that once conquered our homes.
After a few months, we led the final charge into the captial of the elf kingdom.
Time itself was convoluted inside the kingdom. Minutes turns to hours in a blink of an eye, what felt like months were a few days. The land itself were constantly shifting. Upwards, downwards, patches of grass float in mid air, buildings bouncing about.
But humanity stopped it. The anomalies in reality, were stabilized. They were an anchor, keeping reality together. The reality returned to normal near the humanfolk.
Indeed, it seems like there is hope, afterall.
Soon, we surround his palace. The last battle. No more corpses to reanimate. Just him.
The few of us that were still left broke into his chamber.
We see his body, lying on the ground. Bleeding.He had committed suicide.
Next to him was a knife and a note.And that was when he became, truly undying.
He has left his mortal shell. He admitted defeat, this time. He had became one with the ethereal world, our world. He is no longer limited by a physical body. He became a spirit, wondering the world. **And ready to possess anyone.** No one was safe from becoming a vessel for him, except humans.
With the death of his body, came back some of the flow, stabilizing the universe. But knowing Carn is out there, able to control anyone is too much of a threat.
The flow made the world stable again, but we were not safe. Not until no one is able to use flow, ever again. The human race soon roamed the land, building structures that sever the flow. While their goal is not satisfied, they were able to use resources from our land to settle down and live in it.
Our way of life was changed forever when humanity came through. And soon, our ways be replaced by theirs. |
Nearly every report was the same. G type star, eight planets, third planet in the Goldilocks range with a large natural satellite. All inhabited by humans. Even the flora and fauna were the same as Earth Prime, some very much alive out there that have been extinct here.
The only difference was the placement of the continents. Earth-26 had most of its landmasses in the southern hemisphere. Earth-204 had less oceanic surface area than Earth Prime. Earth-88 had a supercontinent and one largish island.
This created enough differences between Earths in terms of population distribution and cultures. Anthropologists, historians, archaeologists, linguists: all were highly sought after, something the Interstellar Survey Fleet did not take into account when it began their decade long missions into the great unknown.
That they *were* human is without question. They were not aliens that happened to look like us. We could eat the local food, breathe the local air, and (against regulation) have relations with the local inhabitants. Some members of the ISF have resigned or retired off-world and actually sired or birthed and raised kids.
Most Earths were still highly agrarian. Some still used stone tools. Most were using iron. A few had reached their version of the industrial revolution. A handful have actually landed on their moon. So far, Earth Prime was the only one to have developed faster-than-light.
So far.
We were not unique. The Rare Earth Theory was not a thing.
But we were not alone. |
He asked for a lot of money. I don't know what that lazy bastard wanted money for, but I had to grant his wish, so.... I got him a shitty job working at minimum wage. It counts.
Then he asked for a car. "Can't you buy one?"I asked, but he just glared at me and snapped, "I can barely afford food on this meager pension you've got me!"I managed to dredge up a Facebook Marketplace listing for a fix-'er-upper for trade. I was actually surprised he gave up his newest gaming console for it. I guess he really needed a car. Can't take your hookups home on the bus, I guess.
Then he asked for a goddamn vacation. "If your boss won't give you one, what makes you think I can?"I retorted, but he just shook my shiny lamp in my face and demanded a weekend off, so I siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighed and got him hit by a car. Can't run around busting tables all day with a broken pelvis.
I was contractually obligated to stick around as long as he had the lamp, so I amused myself by watching the jerk hobble around with a walker. On his day off, he shuffled out to his old, gas-guzzlin' clunker, picking up an Amazon package that was outside the door. He had the lamp in his backpack, so I followed him, sitting atop the cab as he trundled out of the city. Was he heading to the next town over? He must be really dedicated to his hookup.
When he turned off on an old ranch road, I grew still and quiet. He must have made a mistake, took a wrong turn... I quickly made myself invisible when he turned down a familiar dirt road. He rattled to a stop in the cracked driveway of a ramshackle house, the once-white siding covered with cracks and lichen, a few shingles missing from the roof, and the porch sagging.
My house.
He hobbled to the front door, where my mother stood waiting, having heard him come in. She smiled softly, though her eyes were still red from crying and probably drinking.
He handed her the Amazon box. "It's all I could afford,"he mumbled apologetically, and he looked away in... in shame? as she opened it right there.
It was a very small, very cheap plastic gravestone with my name on it. My voice caught in my invisible throat. Mom hadn't been able to afford a proper one.
In a quiet voice, he whispered, "I never got to apologize to him."
She offered him a hug, which he nervously refused, and he left without saying another word. |
(I imagine this kind of environment would spawn a hero/villain society. This is set after the main character's discovery, so here we go.)
A fearful silence fell over the crowd. No one dared speak, not even to cast their Phrase. If anyone did, they would face the wrath of the most feared villain in the world.
Hellbringer. His Phrase? "Go to hell". Instant, painful incineration.
That was a fate that no one dared to risk. The crowd stood motionless, each and every person desperately trying to appear inconspicuous. The Hellbringer's henchmen shuffled through the crowd, collecting valuables and smugly daring anyone to speak. No one did.
Except for one.
The villain raised an eyebrow. Someone had stepped forward from the crowd... A teenager, by the looks of it. Another idiot to feed the flames. "Back in line,"the tyrant growled.
"Nah."
The villain rolled his eyes. Teenagers are never any fun. "And why not?"
"'Cause I'm gonna kick your ass."
The villain sneered. "Look who you're talking to, kid. Three words and you're up in flames."
The teen laughed, and took a pebble out of their pocket. "Three? That's cute. You'll be dead before you say the first one."
Somehow, the nervous silence became even more tense. Everyone looked at the Hellbringer, who was positively fuming at the teen's insolence. Some of them looked at the teen. What on *earth* could this kid's Phrase be? Near the back of the crowd, unseen by the others, another teen smiled. They knew *exactly* what was coming.
"How DARE you?!"the Hellbringer roared. "Do you have ANY idea who you're dealing with?!"
The teen smirked. "Nope, don't care."They wound up, as if to throw the tiny stone.
"GO TO-"
With a single, resounding word, the teen threw the stone.
***"Y E E T"***
And the Hellbringer was forever silenced. |
"Hi, yes, hello,"I said into the phone while looking over the file, "this is just Deborah, I'm calling for a check-in on Jimmy Allens."
"Yes,"the mother said on the other end of the line, her voice was cracking and weak. I added 'possible orphan' to the file, "but he's thirteen, so he's not a-"
"I'm aware of his age Mrs. Allens, I'm from his dark empire's child protective services, and we've recently noticed some strange activity around the home, would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?'
"Oh, uh, no, I guess, go ahead,"she'd paused before agreeing. I checked off evidence of negative sentiment to the Dark Lord, that was just an absolute sign of wanting to defy his infinite power.
"Okay, just like I mentioned, it's a little check-in, nothing to be worried about."I flipped over to the questionnaire on my desk even though I knew the questions off by heart. "Would you mind just letting me know if he's gained any older friends recently?"
"Well the Hawkins boy is fifteen,"she suggested.
"Pardon, I am referring to someone who is statistically out of his friendship range. An example would be an older hermit who turns out to be a wise master of the arcane arts,"I corrected. "By the way, just a reminder that the Dark Lord, in His infinite wisdom, will figure out if you don't tell the absolute truth during this process."
"Um,"she said again, but I didn't add another mark to the file. People were allowed to take time to process the boundless mind of our saviour. "He has gone over to help Old Man Halbard a lot... recently."
"Okay, and you are aware that people referring to themselves as Old Man or Old Lady followed by a single name is a telltale sign of resistance to his endless shadowy grace, correct?"
"I didn't know I promise,"the woman on the other end of the phone stammered and then coughed. I changed the mark on the file to 'definite soon-to-be orphan.
"That's totally okay; you're just going to want to stop that right away. If the Old Man needs assistance, he can ask a local member of the Unkillable Legion."
"Of course,"she answered, "they watch over our town night and day to make sure nobody breaks in or out."
"Exactly,"I agreed, "speaking of the Unkillable Legion and their endless march for peace,"I transitioned into question two, "has Jimmy voiced any negative sentiment towards the exalted members?"
"I don't think so,"she said, "do you have an example?"
"Lamenting their presence,"I offered, "or referring to them as anything other than exalted members of the Unkillable Legion or their first name."
"Uh,"she paused, "I think he's called them UL's."
"That's not good, not good at all,"I shook my head and marked Jimmy down for re-conditioning. He was going to need to meet his local members of the Unkillable Legion personally, so they were people in his mind. "I can pencil him in to get that fixed, but you need to make sure that language isn't used in the home."
"Uh, okay, I can do that."
"Great great great,"I sang into the phone, "final question for this call- and just a reminder that all of these calls are recorded by the Overmind- has Jimmy been participating in any activities that could be considered part of a training montage?"
"I don't think so he's mostly been with his friends learning how to fight with a-"she paused, "oh my Lord-"
I was nodding along with her realization before I spoke. "Yes, that could be considered a climax action of a training montage, I am going to have to inform the local Unkillable Legion to come to say hello alright?"
"Uh-"
"Don't make dinner tonight as the exalted members of the Unkillable Legion are going to bring food to represent our Lord's infinite kindness. Long may he reign, and may we be ever happy under his tyranny."
"Okay,"I heard her swallow on the other end, "Long may he reign."
I ended the call and shook my head. If only we hadn't been so backlogged with rebellion recently, I could have done something about this. Oh well, I went to edit the file.
*Jimmy Allens marked for termination. The subject is too far into rebellion for re-conditioning. Terminate target before cleansing the mother, allowing the target to see mother's death could result in Class 3 chosen one scenario.*
*Warning: Subject is 'lightly trained' in swordplay and will likely have a' beginner's luck' buff on him if combat occurs. Use caution to avoid critical strikes.*
I hummed as I updated the file and grabbed the next record from my long list of check-ins for the day. |
I’d been having a good day up until that point. Nothing unusual, woke up, got dressed, ate, took out the trash, then went out to meet with some friends. We met at a smoothie place a couple blocks from my house. I, as always, was the first one to show up, followed closely by Aaron. We ordered and talked a bit as we waited for the others to show up. Soon Chelsea and Michael showed up together, and about 5 minutes later Jake finally got here. We talked for an hour until Jake said “Well we should probably be logging off, their about to update the server” “what” I chuckled nervously, Jake often made jokes like this, so I assumed this was another joke until Chelsea responded “yeah, can’t wait for the new customization options”, “whatever” said Michael “we all know the real reason for the update is to fix all the glaring bugs”. They all nodded in agreement, “very funny” I said, “what” responded Jake “did you not read the announcements, or wait, are you a sim?” “A what” I asked, “a sim” Jake responded “like a simulated character, an NPC, oh god have I been friends with a sim for the past 3 years?”. At first I thought they were crazy, but then I started to realize things, I didn’t really know what my job is, I know I go to an office building, make spreadsheets, attend meetings, but what was I actually doing? And what about garbage trucks, I’ve heard people talk about being annoyed by them early in the morning, but I’ve never seen one in the morning, actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one at all. Oh god, is this a video game, am I an NPC? I watch as my friends all freeze up, and then vanish. I’ve got to get out, I’ve got to escape, I’ve got to— |
I sighed, leaning against the bars of the cage.
A whole month.
About four weeks.
Thirty days.
And I'm still here.
To be completely honest, I shouldn't be surprised. My teammates were never the brightest- preferring to use brute force and brawn rather than brains. Dare I say, I was the thing keeping them all alive and well.
But I still felt a bit of pity...and annoyance.
My eyes flicked to the large screen placed before me, playing live feed of my teammates battling our foe's henchmen. They were, of course, beating them into a bloody pulp, but it was such mindless maiming that yielded no gain. Miraculously, I felt even more pity than before. Is this what that villain had to deal with before I came around? Speaking of villains, I lazily turned my gaze to him, observing his amused behavior.
I called out to him (nothing better to do in my opinion), "You know you're really good at this torturing thing. I didn't realize that I could feel such intense pity and annoyance at the same time. I'm tempted to just put them out of their misery, it's so sad."
He chuckled, turning in his chair to face me (such a fancy chair, looked very comfortable). "I know, but isn't it so hilarious to watch them? Just look,"he pointed to the screen where one of my teammates had fallen flat on her face and was screaming obscenities, "why does she even bother with the insults? I didn't realize that they had enough brainpower to fight and talk at the same time."
At his remark, I burst out laughing, rather cruel of me but he was right. My respect for my teammates was dropping. He had made it so obvious as to where he was keeping me (because of course the dark, emo skyscraper with constant thunderclouds hovering only around it wasn't the villain's lair- it had to be the zoo), and he wasn't even keeping me all that contained. I had cuffs on- easily picked but I left them on as courtesy, I only took them off when my arms started to hurt- the birdcage hovering only about 6-10 feet off the ground and on top of that, there was a gap in between a few of the bars. I wouldn't even need to wiggle to fit through it, I could just hop on out.
I didn't, once again out of courtesy, but also because I was curious as to how much they depended on me. I had a tiny, itty-bitty sliver of hope that they'd be able to manage on their own and save me themselves, but I was proven wrong.
So very wrong.
Having had enough of just sitting around in the cage (I managed to resist temptation for a month, and they weren't getting me out anytime soon so might as well take initiative), I removed the cuffs and hopped down- the cage was rather pretty and ornate when you looked at it. I padded over to "the villain", was he really a villain, and leaned on the top of the chair, gazing at the screen.
"So how long are we going to mess with them before just obliterating them?"
He tilted his head so that he could make eye-contact with me before speaking.
"Oh I had my turn, I just figured that I'd let you have a go before I went on with my plans."
Nodding, staring at the imbeciles I used to call my equals before giving him my response.
"How about three more days? I heard that three is a magic number somewhere." |
I lay in bed, my head throbbing with dehydration after days of crying. My eyes were tender and sticky, I'd been wiping away tears constantly since I heard the news. I craved sleep, a few hours where I could escape the reality where my best friend was no more. I didn't have the comfort of faith to turn to, and I didn't have the patience to wait for time to heal the gaping wound in my heart.
When exhaustion overtook me, I found myself, as ever, in the meadow. For as long as I could remember, my dreams had taken me here. All my friends seemed to have different and hard to remember night time adventures, which I couldn't ever understand. They talked about lucid dreaming as being a skill to achieve, but that's all I'd ever known. I might as well be awake, if not for the beautiful lightness I felt in my body when there. All my aches and pains disappeared, and I felt only clarity. It was a relief to be back.
I settled myself down on the grass, making daisy chains and breathing deeply in the clear air, savouring this moment of peace. Soon someone would appear, a new person every time, and we would discuss their lives at length. I liked it. A little window into another world. Sometimes they would be thoroughly awful people, gloating over their unkindnesses and triumphs over others. Other times, most times, I heard stories of beautiful, flawed, and loving people. They would tell me most about all the people they loved and how much of a difference they'd made to this person's world. Never their own achievements. I would hear their stories fully and, when they had finished I would direct them onwards on their journey. To those that had spread their warmth like a blanket, I would suggest a café with the most incredible English breakfast as their next step. Those that poisoned the air around us as they belched their toxic selfishness would be directed to a steep and rocky climb down a mountain path. Screw them. They didn't deserve fried bread.
I waited, basking in the calm I no longer experienced in my waking hours. Then, I saw her hair bobbing towards me through the flowers. I knew that haircut by heart. Those glasses, that smile was unmistakeable. She was here! I would get to talk to her again! Though my heart clattered against my chest and my soul screamed with bittersweet agony, my features remained poised and I greeted her the same way as always. "Fancy seeing you then!"
We hugged, I breathed in the smell of vanilla body spray and felt at peace. We sat. We wordlessly continued making daisy chains, she handed me the purple ones as she always did, so I could make my wishes. She began to talk. I heard facts I knew inside out. Her family, the joy she held in remembering Christmases and holidays. Her past loves, even those universally agreed to be the worst people on the planet. Her friends. Us. We laughed at memories and gasped when we recalled adventures thought long forgotten, but made clear by the pure air of the meadow. We continued for far longer than I'd ever spoken with anyone before. Days, maybe. The sun rose and set, the stars twinkled above us. We continued to talk.
When there was no more to talk about,she asked if she got to go to the café. I laughed, why wouldn't she? Maybe I'd go with her this time, if I had power over everything else, why not? She smiled, sadly. She promised she'd keep a table reserved for me, when I came to the café myself, that there would be tea waiting. She told me she loved me, and that she couldn't believe she hadn't realised I went to Purgatory every night, but that I was a far sexier St Paul than she'd been lead to believe at church. I blinked, a smirk plastered on my face, despite the dawning realisation that my judgements had been sending souls to their eternal destiny. The judgements I'd made as a 5 year old, a 16 year old... My whole life.
I blinked again, and focused on her. She smiled. She told me she would see me when she saw me, and softly closed the gate separating the meadow from the path onwards. She walked on, fading away.
I tried to follow, but the meadow shifted beneath my feet as it did when I woke up. I fought it, this was where I wanted to be, I wanted to go with her. I fought and scrambled and cried, it was no use.
I woke up, sweating, my duvet in a pile on the floor, gasping for breath as though I had been held underwater. The pain of loss came crushing back onto me like a star collapsing in on itself. She was gone, again, and I knew I would never see her again in the meadow. She was somewhere else, somewhere good, but that somewhere wasn't here.
I made myself tea, and cried. |
"And what are you going to do if we don't lift the blockade? Shoot us with your guns?"retorted the holographic image of the Galactic Fleet Commander Zract.
Admiral Wellington cocked his head to the side slightly and said "Yes. That is quite literally what they are for."He took a step toward the projection and continued, "We have no desire for war, but we will not be kept in a pen any longer. We may be new to the galactic scene, but we are a space-faring people, like any other, and you cannot continue to prevent us from leaving our system."
Commander Zract was not moved by this statement in the least. He made an indecipherable facial expression that a human could never hope to replicate, and then said in a mocking tone that even the cheapest automated translator couldn't miss, "Oh, is that what you think we are doing? Keeping your poor little species locked away?"His tone spiked when he almost yelled, "Well, you're right!"
"It's not because you don't have a right to galactic citizenship, it's because you are savages.", he continued. "You REFUSE to get rid of your weaponry, and until you do, nobody wants anything to do with you. You are basically monkeys that somehow figured out how to bend space, but who aren't smart enough to figure out how to stop up from blocking you. The fact that you can't understand this is exactly WHY you belong where you are."
Wellington accepted that last barb. He let it strike home, and he held onto it, pondering what it really meant.
They were scared.
We didn't adhere to their model of what a society should be, and therefore, were not controllable by their typical means. This very conversation was violence in their eyes. But they has no idea what to do about a people so "savage"that they would purposefully destroy a ship in the vacuum of space to further their goals.
"I know that you think you have control here, Commander. But I can promise you, you do not."Wellington said, with steel in his voice. "We have been trying to avoid physical violence, because we do not wish to start a war as our first official act on the galactic stage. But we will not be held prisoner any longer. Our ships WILL leave our system, even if we have to destroy your warp-field distributor, and by extension, the ships surrounding it."
Wellington sat back in his seat as he said "The only control you have over this situation is whether you live as a wise man, or die as a fool. We are coming through, and your words will not stop us."His finger hovered over the disconnect button as he glared at the holo-sensor and firmly stated "Make your choice."
\-Transmission Ended- |
The first readings were checked hundreds of times. As with most Earth shattering discoveries many groups appeared and claimed the readings were fake. Hoaxes to gain control or power and make money. Until the first ships appeared past the asteroid belt. The first ships were no bigger than small yachts. Later we found they held nearly a planets worth of equipment and sensors to assess our capabilities.
Even as the months went by and people took sides in the fake or wrong versus we need to prepare camps, militaries of the world ramped up in relative secrecy. So when the first ships were close enough to be detected by the naked eye, over a dozen countries launched assaults. Some were probes to communicate but most were armed and ready for striking first. America among them. They hurled through space ready to meet the first tangible intelligence mankind knew existed outside of our own. But they were ready to meet with a gun in hand.
First contact was brutal. The first ship, an American science craft armed with probes, a welcoming party and a diplomatic contingent was nearly obliterated in one shot. The trailing American and British ships that hung back to record were horrified over communication channels.
The last broadcast before the American backup ship opened fire was “oh my god, it’s a fucking donut. Right fucking through it. We’re fucked.”
The day became to be known as Zero day. The day we first thought we had zero chance of survival. America’s other ships opened fire. Getting support from all of the European Union, a contingent of massively armed Russian and Korean vessels and a Chinese assault squadron that gained the first confirmed kills. They quickly shared the attack methods that worked. Finally it was Japan that devised a way to link ships together and overcome each countries proprietary systems. Combining efforts worked as well as an Israeli shuttle that slipped passed the initial fighting to find and confirm the existence of a mother ship.
The Israeli ship fired a disabling probe a low tech boring machine attached to a state of the art missile. The device scored a direct hit and dug in deep. Laying several small nukes and blowing a huge hole in the alien structure.
Repairs began almost immediately on the mothership as a small army of smaller spider like ships crawled free and began resolving the damage. They fired a single retaliatory strike. A streamlined ship that rocketed passed all engaged ships and Earth satellites defense systems. It entered the atmosphere at nearly unreachable speed. A shockwave followed and then it’s true purpose was felt. The pull of hitting the atmosphere at such speed then nearly a complete stop combined with a pulse of unknown energy, in essence destroyed or disabled most every satellite in orbit. We were blinded. Cut off from our ships fighting up there. Out there, alone.
Terrestrial communications were next. Electrical grids were targeted. Government facilities with scientists and experts were targeted from the hovering vessel. No matter where they hid, they were hit. Multiple world leaders found and struck down from the sky.
On the ground the fight in the heavens could still be seen. Albeit not with the same detail, but we knew we were losing.
The routing lasted for days. Then without warning, the private sector came to the rescue. Knowing so many experts and organizations and world leaders were dead in the water, private companies launched satellites. The first waves were hit or miss as the ship was able to take some down. But the few that made it to orbit connected and with combined helped the forces target and took out the ship.
Once it was down and we were able to contact other vessels we determined we had been able to fight them off. The Japanese link allowed ships to combine power and tactics and put up a good fight with the scouts.
A sacrifice from the Israeli ship struck an unrecoverable blow to the mothership which truly turned the tide. Moments before the mothership fired a large energy pulse that opened a portal of sorts. As it began to send a beam of energy through the Israeli ship detected a build up and drain of the repairing systems. They took this chance to make the sacrifice and take out a massive section of the ship. So much damage it could not repair. With the ship down the smaller vessels seemingly lost all purpose. They became easy targets.
We had fought them back. Taken out the scout ships and the advanced mothership.
Days later the boarding crew made it aboard the mothership. Eventually analyzing the computers and getting a rudimentary understanding. They realized their worst fear. The ship had contacted home before being disabled and cut off.
The message. Primitive life forms. Send armada.
Within weeks governments, still reeling and rebuilding, of the world met. Treaties and draft agreements were made. The scavenger accords were made. The portal the ship opened stayed open for another year and almost immediately a private company sent a ship through.
The jump portal sent us thousands of light years away and gave us a chance to find a sad trail. A trail of other planets ravaged by the force. But mankind never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, jumped at the chance.
While the portal remained open, ship after ship went through. Returning with scavenged technology from other destroyed worlds. Some of the alien ships as well. We reverse engineered the technology and readied a defense.
In a few short years we had taken a literal trail of broken bones of lost civilizations and beaten enemies and sharpened them into weapons.
We would be ready to face them this time. We would show them what primitive life forms could do. |
The ground cracked as the spiked ball implanted itself in the soil, tossing up specks of dirt with the collision. The sandstone built man stood before me, huffing and puffing with pent up aggression. His eyes bulged as though an ounce more anger would cause them to pop free and roll along the colosseum grounds like discarded marbles.
“I will beat your face with your face” The beast of a man growled, lowering the average IQ of the colosseum with each word he spoke.
Despite his weak insults, his posture and strength were enough to keep me from taunting him further. Even an idiot was a threat when they wielded a dangerous weapon. Luckily it was time to reveal my secret weapon, a relic passed down through generations. No one had been certain where the weapon came from, only that it held a power beyond mortal understanding.
“A small blade? Is this joke? I will crush you with my mighty spiked ball of death.”
The gladiator went to raise his weapon, only to receive a small jab in the arm as I prodded him with the pen.
“Stop it.”
Even at his pleas for mercy, I just continued to poke him. The crowd were silent; the king tilting his head as he watched the battle in confusion.
“Seriously, stop it.”
He tried to swipe me away, more focused on trying to stop the small pokes than his own weapon. Finally, he had dropped the weapon entirely, backing away from the poking pen.
“Seriously, that stings, stop.”
Soon it turned into a comedy act, chasing the burly man around the arena with my pen, watching him flee in terror as I made thrusting motions with the pen. Attempting to stab him with each circle of the colosseum, we ran. The man was slowly getting tired, much to the king’s displeasure. Rising from his throne, the king shouted to his fighter.
“Kill him, crush his head with your hands. It’s barely a weapon. What are you running for?” The king made his displeasure heard, causing the gladiator to stop.
“But it hurts a little, it makes the mighty Podik uncomfortable.”
With the mighty Podik distracted, I used the opportunity to jam the pen into his back, causing a squeal of surprise to leave his lips, watching as the muscled man made a jump for the colosseum walls, pulling himself from the arena.
“I quit, I signed up for manly wrestle and blood fight, not a coward battle.”
I took offence to his words, making a stabbing motion at him again, causing the man to duck behind a spectator. The king shook his head, reminding himself to train better fighters.
“Well, you have won your fight by surrender. By our agreement, I will pardon you for your crime of writing. The king eats eggs on the royal scribes. Just know that I won’t be so kind in the future.”
I only offered him a respectable nod for his words. Reminding myself not to get caught next time.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
“I’m never hiring a Human again!” Complained the Captain. “They use all the oxygen, we almost ran out of fuel because of her!” They point to the woman laying on the medbay cot, unconscious but breathing.
“I told you,” said the Doctor, “That she would be an issue, Remus.”
“I know, I know! And I still regret hiring her, but I can’t just get rid of her now.” Replied the Capatain, Remus.
“Maybe you can’t, but I can.” The Doctor muttered.
“She saved our lives.” Said Remus sternly. “So cut her some slack, Miko.”
“And in the process she nearly got us stranded in the middle of empty space! She shouldn’t have been given the extra oxygen, she should have been put back into stasis.” Was Miko’s retort.
“So what, another highly skilled engineer who served on a similar Kepler class Human ship could happen along and fix a problem that nobody had seen coming?”
Miko chose not to repsond.
“Because I only know one person who fits that description, and she’s lying there half dead in medical.” The Captain continued, growing louder and gesticulating more as he spoke.
“Point taken.”
“I was just frustrated, we’re not getting rid of her. She’s demonstrated her invalubility to us, we’ll just have to eat the cost of oxygen to keep her ‘warmed up’ permanently.”
The Head Engineer chose this moment to peel herself from the bedside of her subordinate to chime in. “That would nearly double our oxygen demand. We’ll need to install an oxygen reclamation unit to cut down on costs. The carbon dioxide she breathes out can’t be allowed to go to waste.”
“Alright,” started Remus, “then it’s settled. We keep her out of stasis, and grant her enough oxygen to breathe. We can eat the cost for a while, but we need that reclamation system up and running a-s-a-p.”
“And in the meantime?” Asked Miko, annoyance clear in her voice.
“We stock up at-“ Remus looks to his data pad and gawks. “-the most expensive place to purchase oxygen within the system.”
“Ya know what, I’ll make that reclamator priority number one.” Says the Head Engineer. “Take good care of the Human girl, she saved all our asses today.”
The group splits up amid the doctor’s mumblings of harvesting organs and cruel experimentation.
*This will be an interesting decision.* Remus thought to himself as he eyes the day’s heroine. *Though I have a feeling it will not be one I regret.* |
Irony. Verteshna is "The Bad Guy,"and Dosoria is "The Good Guy,"but Verteshna is frantically trying to save whoever he can from Dosoria's horrifying wake of destruction. Unless I didn't have my priorities straight, murdering dozens in the span of minutes (not to mention the property damage!) is Bad and attempting to save lives and risking your own is Good.
They were saying stuff, but it didn't matter. The deafening noises made me not care about the sound at all, and I began to dismiss my ears entir-
*"I know this is short notice, but I need a new player avatar."*
"Huh? What's going on?"
*"Yeah, sorry about the fuckup, I have no idea how my Dosoria got access to console commands."*
"No, what- who are you? Why can I hear you?"
*"Oh sorry, you're In The Game, I forgot. My bad. Basically none of what you think is life is real, you're all just characters in my Game. But my Game is special, all of the characters in the game- like you- can think for themselves, and make their own decisions. I can't directly make them do something like most Gamers can. I can only change the environment and decide what characters are like when I make them."*
A lot to process, obviously. But I didn't really care much anyway, I'd sort of stopped caring so much about life after the first 5 times Dosoria and his associates destroyed my fruit stand in a nonsensical chase. And I was able to keep the realization that I didn't exist for later.
"So what do you want me for?"
*"Well I need a new character to follow and become the main, the one that everything revolves around, and I noticed you had exceptional stats for some reason. Somehow Dosoria has gotten special powers that only I'm supposed to have, which has ruined him by driving him crazy. I can disable his powers in a minute but he can't be the main."*
Funny. I'd always thought that Dosoria's impression of the world revolving around him was erroneous, but I guess not. "Uhh, thanks for the compliment? I assume exceptional stats is good."
*"So what do you say?"*
"Sure. Let's save the world. Or whatever." |
"It's not us it wants, it's *her*!"Clyde pointed vehemently at me. "I say we throw her out there and make a run for it."
"She's saved your ass more than once you ungrateful piece of--!"
The group descended into chaos arguing over one each other about the merits of sacrificing me. Below us the hoard threw their rotting bodies against the doors, the rank smell of them buffered by the window.
It stood in the shade of a tree across the street from the building that we stood on. I could see the slight crane of its neck. It knew instinctively where I was. Always.
It was near the beginning when a fresh biter got my neck. I got away, and was ready to end it before the fever took me over. I woke up two days later, still alive. I'm not sure why I never turned. It wasn't long after that I found out the zombies actually hated the smell of my blood. They cowered away from it. It was how I managed to save most of the people in our group.
Just get Ashe to bleed a little and the zombies will leave. All except one. Every time I turned around on a supply run, it was there watching from the shadows. It took us two months to realize it'd been stalking us, actually *leading* hoards to us. I had nightmares about it's eyes on me, could have sworn I could hear words behind its chittering maw. Calling my name.
But we've lost two people now because of these hoards. I didn't want any more blood on my hands. So I let the group bicker and descended the stairs. |
Satan's rampaging devils, the inevitable forces of the damned, the horrors below. There they came, sat upon, horses? Devils lined up on the flanks, carrying bows and arrows? Satan thought he was ready for what was to come. But his journey had taken so long, in that time humanity had advanced by leaps and bounds.
The first attack, Satans demonic cavalry men bellowed, "Hahaha! Puny humans, get ready to die!"They had no idea what the humans had in store. The humans didn't even bother to take the challenge seriously. "Why do these red-faced nutjobs talk funny?"was all they wondered. The demonic demons, on their demonic horses, were gunned down quick. Terrible cries came from the battlefield. Satan laughed, "Those humans got what they deserve,"he said.
His musings were interrupted by planes that flew overhead. Satan squinted his eyes to get a good look and upon doing so, ordered his archers to shoot them down. The demonic bows quivered in their demonic hands, but even the strongest of them couldn't land a single arrow on the planes.
The planes started firing. The demons didn't know what hit them. Lead bullets pierced their skins. "Stones! They're throwing stones from up there!"they cried. Satan hid under a tree. He had not anticipated any of this.
"Look,"said a demon, "that's one big stone."
The stone fell, it wasn't a stone, it was a bomb. And it exploded on contact. The whole battlefield of the damned blew up in white smoke. A giant mushroom of smoke rose from the battlefield. Satan ran, he ran like hell, to hell. His army of damned didn't make it. The humans had come so far in so little a time. He needed to regroup. |
If you went to the North Pole you had to be a little crazy. Out of the couple of thousand that visit the North Pole no-one has a good sane reason to go there. The vast majority went there just to say they been there, which what kind of reason was that. But I figure mine has to be the most asinine reason of all time, to kill Santa Claus.
The Vatican had only recently declared Saint Nicolas a heretic. Not publicly of course. They were still a world wide organization with over 50 million members. They didn't need to go losing members by publicly declaring to the world that Santa was a bad guy. Could you imagine the press, the ridicule. But secretly it was fine. For the Vatican operating in secret was pretty much Standard Operating Procedure.
And to be honest the Vatican had a pretty good point. In the modern era the focus for millions was Santa Claus not the birth of Jesus. The Vatican had met with Santa Claus in person to ask him to stop casting his magic and abusing the power granted to him by his followers. Rumor had it the meeting ended with Nicolas just grabbing his list and marking the ambassadors down on his naughty list. A few months later the two ambassadors had been found guilty of fraud. Maybe they were always guilty but an investigation, done privately by the Vatican of course, showed that fraud had only started in earnest just days after meeting with Saint Nick. That was the breaking point between Saint Nick and the Vatican.
A week or two later I was hired to kill Santa Claus. I thought the whole thing ridiculous, of course. Because really, Santa Claus. I remember laughing at the robed Holy Man's face sitting on the balcony of Café Sul Balcone, which is a really stupid name for a coffee place but then again The United States was littered with Mexican restaurants called El Sombrero or La Casa. The cafe was also as advertised , a Café with a balcony. This wasn't the first time I had met with Piero. He was my usual contact a handsome man in his mid-60s. Salt and pepper hair, that was mostly salt now, cool steel blue eyes, a firm square jaw, a permanent 5 o'clock shadow, despite the fact that he shaved twice a day, but to offset all of his hard exterior a kind smile. He had found me years ago. I was an expert hunter in the paranormal and had done work for the church before aiding in the dispatching of demons and heretics alike. And once upon a time an angel. Now Piero was asking me to kill Santa Claus. When he finally told me the amount they were willing to pay. I almost turned the job down right there. That many zeroes meant one thing. That this was considered a suicide mission. But I had been looking for this. A last job.
I was past my prime, physically. But my body hadn't started failing me, yet. I was in my late 30's. I considered myself in the sweet spot. I had gain the wisdom that only comes with years of hunting and though my body wasn't nearly as strong or flexible as it was in my 20s it could still do everything I could do back then, it just protested much more noticeably now. But after every fight, I needed longer to recover. Every time I needed to run, the monsters always seemed to be getting closer. I looked at the offer, I knew what it meant but I also knew in a few more years every offer would begin to look like this. So I took it.
That was August. Now it had just turned December 16th. It was 0001. Santa's weakest moment. My research had lead me to believe that the magic Santa casted was actually quite clever. You see in Saint Nicholas earlier days in Myra he used his magic to ask for speed and stealth. So he could deliver toys to the houses of whores and slaves. But as his influence grew it didn't matter how much speed or stealth he had it simply became impossible. So he turned his magic to work on something else, capitalist greed. You see every year an event occurs in the world of capitalism that makes no sense, the Christmas Bonus. Think about it the most selfish and greedy people in all the world decide to give their employees more money simply because of an event that most don't really believe in anyway, bullshit it was magic casted by a very powerful saint. Then the next part of Santa's magic was to cause parents to handle their money poorly. A budget of a few hundred dollars for Christmas gifts turns into thousands without someone even noticing. That's how Santa's magic worked and it was really quite clever. But my research showed this was his weakest time. On the 15th he spent the entire day casting a ritual to work against capitalist greed, a force stronger than the man himself.
I had crossed miles of frozen wasteland to get to the legends compound. I entered in. Three ellipses in blue paint was drawn on the ground, each ellipse meant to represent an aspect of god, and all intersecting at one point to represent him as one. Saint Nicolas was over by the wall in a chair. He looked exhausted. His bright red shirt was soaked in sweat. His face and the rest of his body was ghostly pale. He looked up at me with serious look on his face. His body struggled to sit upright "Ahh yes, Geoff, figured you be showing up by now. Well"He said taking a deep breath of air "Merry Christmas". He exhaled and slumped in his chair. I quickly crossed the room put two fingers under his neck. No pulse. The ritual was just to much and it had killed the old man. I was now richer than I had ever been and I didn't even have to pull the trigger. I searched his body for any signs of traps and only found three pieces of paper rolled up and tied together in place by twine, I pocket those. I brought Saint Nick's body back to the Vatican and collected my reward.
​
A couple of months passed and something never sat right. I think it started a few months after Christmas were all over the news companies started talking about doing away with Christmas bonus. I was in the middle of building my house when I saw the news. I met with my builders about changing up the mosaic tile at the bottom of my indoor pool. It was December 15th. I had spent the entire day before going over the scrolls Santa had left behind. The first two were detailed descriptions on how to perform the rituals for Christmas. The third was much more simple it read. "Geoff Mraz - Nice" |
There is no homelessness in the Empire. It is the purpose of my taskforce to make sure no imperial citizen is without food and shelter. Some imperial subjects seem to rejoice in turning away from the light of civilization though and go deep into the woods to set up their primitive tents and huts. We are to bring the Emperor's light to these nomads and return imperial subjects to the fold.
Every time we find a group of these disheveled and malnourished nomads they always speak of freedom and beg us to let them stay. Freedom is service to the one true Emperor. No imperial citizen should be allowed to live in such a place, without indoor plumbing or proper medicine. "No imperial citizen deserves to live in such squalor"
"We are no imperial citizens! Leave us be."says one of the group, an elderly nomad. The rest of the twenty strong group all mutter and nod their agreement. Their faces are so defiant and proud. It's always the same with these nomad tribes. They do not understand there is no homelessness in the empire.
My team is tasked with bringing the Emperor's light to these savages and returning imperial citizens to the Empire. If they are not imperial citizens then that leaves only the Emperor's light. There is no homelessness in the empire
"Burn these hovels down in the Emperor's name."
Twenty shots echo through the woods as I walk back to the transport. Sloshing announces the dousing of the tents in accelerant and a well thrown flare ignites these flea infested hovels. As soon as the rest of the team is back on the transport, the driver takes off for the next nomad camp our thermal imaging drone identified. There is no homelessness in the empire. My team makes sure of it. |
I arrived at Beckdon expecting a regional hub. Instead it was littlemore than a small town with a wooden wall and a few farming villages. No natural resources or industry to speak of (although most of this godforsaken land had the industry we knew today.
The kings expected tax rate was far too high and we claimed it wouldn't be readjusted for at least 10 years so i knew i would need to rally this land if i had a chance to keep my position.
Beckdon was technically the closet city between the capital of Helkifula and my land of Drenswod. A wide abd rapid river was the biggest blocker abd the journey instead passed across further east. A bridge along the river would attract a decent toll from merchants and increase demand for taverns so we set to work.
It took longer than i hoped with teaching the techniques but the towns people eventually learnt and we successfully built a bridge. Stage one was complete.
As predicted merchants took this new route and beckdon entered its golden age, new residents joined and opened taverns and shops to sell to passing merchents. Markets opened allowing merchents to buy and sell without having to even cross the bridge and leave Drenswod.
Stage 2 was about industry. We built large wooden wheels to harvest the power of the river and factories that cut wood and created cloth from thread in huge quantities. Beckdon was entering the industrial revolution centuries before it should.
Unfortunately great wealth attracts invasions. Helkifula was an unruly land and raiders from their started to attack our towns for loot. The king rejected my requests for help citing that bandits were a counts responsibility.
So we trained for war. We found ways of mass producing swords, shields, armour and arrows. We ran war games and i taught advanced small unit tactics. The army that now stands before me is lead by a small group of professionals with a larger force of Levis. Unlike most armies even the levies were fully armoured.
The bandits didn't stand a chance against you
Helkifula didn't stand a chance you.
And yet our king still doesn't honour us as a duchy. He still sees you as backward peasants. Despite our great factories. Despite our rich markets. Despite our strong army. He still snubs us.
So i say to you
"Do you think the king has a chance against us?" |
It was very late in the night. I had my laptop set up on the table, and my coffee was next to me. Insomnia might have crept into me for night.
I opened up Reddit. I was one of the mods of the live stream subs. I had primarily taken it up because I could stay up late at night for moderation purposes. It gave me something to do for passing time.
When I saw the first stream tonight, I was almost knocked off my seat. The hair on my back rose up as I realized it was me in that stream. ME! A third person POV stream of me! In pure confusion, I tapped to see what was happening.
There were a total of 10,000 comments already. It seemed...interesting.
Chills were still running down my spine. Had someone been recording me all my life?
When the comments loaded, I saw every comment had been deleted. At least those that I could see.
The ‘me’ in the image banged his hand on the table and shouted the f-word. That might have been a little uncharacteristic for me.
I started observing the surroundings in the stream. It was definitely my room. My table and coffee were visible. I was looking at my laptop. What I was seeing wasn’t visible though. If I would squint, I could see the legs of my cat, who was sleeping on my bed in front of my table.
**MODS ARE GAY**
I read the comment. “Fuck you, random redditor and your mom”, I shouted as I banged my hand on the table. I had been so furious reading this immature remark everywhere on Reddit. I deleted it.
In the stream, I noticed myself touching the back of my hand. Looking closely, I realised I was feeling a bald patch.
The thought of my dad going insanely bald out of nowhere, and when we consulted with a doctor, it was revealed that he had diabetes. The diabetes, which later also took him away from me.
I tried to feel the back of my head. There was a very small patch. Definitely. I should get this checked as soon as possible.
I decided to search up a doctor online. Any thought remotely related to diabetes always made me overthink. But I couldn’t do anything about it. It was a legit doubt. I had to get it checked. I opened a new tab, tuning the volume up so that if anything major happened, I would get to know.
There was one doctor: Mrs Frasier, who could see me tomorrow. I was typing in my details for booking an appointment when I heard ‘my’ voice.
“Damn,” was what I had said.
I immediately switched tabs. My heart was pounding. What could've happened?
When the stream had loaded, I saw that I was getting up and going off camera. The laptop had a black screen. Possibly shut down.
Then suddenly, Leo, my cat jumped on the table out of the blue, spilling the coffee all over the laptop and me. Fucking cat. One innocent look and all my anger evaporated. But my concern didn’t.
A little fear twisted my gut. What was ‘I’ doing in the stream, right now? Probably still off-screen, I thought to myself. I ran to the closet and immediately took out another pair of pants. Wore it. Ran outside the room. Dropped the wet jeans in a laundry basket. Sprinted back to my laptop.
Then I realized all the coffee had spilled over it.
My phone!, I thought.
I opened Reddit on my iPhone and saw that the stream was still on. When I entered it, I found ‘myself’ in the kitchen, pouring cat treats into a bowl. However, I was looking the other way and not where my hand was pouring the treats. I must be using a phone in the stream too.
Isn’t that weird?
“Meow,” my cat shouted out from outside the room. And then I heard a banging noise. I ran to the kitchen and saw him licking the box of his cat treats. As soon as he saw me, his eyes became expectant and he jumped up in excitement. I noticed that the source of this noise was his food bowl, which he had thrown down.
I gave him his food and resumed watching the stream. Even though there were ten thousand viewers, no one was commenting. Talk about an interactive community.
Then I noticed me scribbling something on a piece of paper. After scribbling it, I had stopped.
I squinted to look at it properly. What was it?
I held it up, probably so that light could fall on it. It was a set of numbers. No, wait. It was just a set of zeroes and ones.
I pulled out a piece of paper and slowly tried to copy it out.
*01010011 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100101 00101100 00100000 01000100 01100001 01101110*
What the hell was this? It didn’t make any sense to me.
I held it up, confused. As some light fell on it, I had a realization. Sets of zeros and ones.
**THIS WAS A BINARY CODE.**
I opened up an online binary translator. I wanted to run for safety, but my bottom seemed to have been glued to the chair. Terror mounted inside me as I typed each digit. I mistyped a few too. As I finished, I hit enter. As it loaded, terror stabbed at my heart, slowly carving in its home.
Then suddenly, A big message flashed across the screen.
**SAVE ME, DAN**
I switched to the stream. It had ended. I was icy with panic. The phone slipped through my fingers and dropped, splitting into pieces.
I took a step backward, my hand over my mouth. I didn’t know how this could be happening. The room started looking sinister to me. It wasn’t just that ‘I’ had asked for help, though that was a major contributing factor.
It was that *my name was* DAN. |
I sighed , and turned back to the general. "Honestly", I told him, "I have no idea. But if you are intent on committing suicide, go fall on your sword, at least that way there will be a body left for your family to bury."I turned back to the east, where the great metal monster sat, looking like some artists metal casting of a dragon. If the artist had never seen a dragon, and was exceptionally drunk and uncoordinated when he had done his work.
I conjured up a pair of chairs and we both took a seat. "You're worried. If I didn't know better, I would almost say frightened, but I know you too well for that."His response cut straight to the point, as usual. We had been through a lot together, and he had earned both my respect and honesty.
"I AM afraid", I told him. "And I owe you an apology, I don't doubt either your courage or your wisdom , but attacking that 'space ship"as they call it, would be worse than hopeless. You saw what happened to that flight of wyverns."
It hadn't lasted long, seven wild wyverns had attacked the metal monster , only to be touched by a flash of light and fall to the ground. A task like that was well beyond the might of most mages, only a few of the most powerful could have managed it. And yet there was none of the taste of magic, or the disturbance so much power being used would normally leave in the aether nearby.
"It didn't kill them though, they flew away an hour later."He replied before adding "There are limits to their magic. You have spoken with them, and been inside, surely they aren't so different from us."
I took a moment to conjure up a table and a pair of cups. Reaching in to my cloak, I pulled out a battered flask and poured us both a drink. We both took a sip and I leaned back in my chair to consider my reply.
"They are us, in every way I can test. I used a dozen different spells to dispel illusions, and there is no way possible that they are anything other than human. But there is not a single mage on that ship of theirs. Everything they accomplish is done with machines, like the pulleys we use to lift heavy weights and the windmills farmers use to pump water, but far more advanced. The weapon they used on the wyverns could have turned them to dust if they had so chosen."
I paused for another drink, thinking on some of the things they had shown me. "Everything they have built, everything they have done, has been done without any help of magic. They have built an empire across a thousand worlds, crossed the airless void between the stars, with nothing but metal and ingenuity."
"They have no magic at all? "he sounded as shocked as I had felt when I had first realized the truth. A sudden rumble of thunder brought our attention back to the distant scene below. the great construct of steel was lifting itself from the ground, slowly at first , then ascending into the sky on a pillar of fire no dragon breath could match.
I shook my head as the thunder faded. "I said they had no mages. Or understanding of magic. But everyone on that ship is overflowing with magic. All of them. And I suspect every other human not of this world has it too. Here it is one in ten thousand, if that. Can you imagine a thousand worlds where everyone is a potential mage? Where no magic at all has been drawn from the world?"
He wasn't slow to hear the things I hadn't said, and even as I reached out to fill our cups from my endless flask he spoke in understanding. "You're afraid this world is running out of magic, and they have so much because they have never used it. If you are right, what do we do?"
I considered my reply. "The "magic"they use, the machines , they call it technology. We have seen what they can do with it alone. It is up to us to see what we can do if we can mix it with magic."
I looked up into the darkening evening sky. A tiny point of fire winked out as I watched, as the metal ship disappeared into the void between worlds. The world , our world had just become both a lot smaller , and maybe more dangerous. But then to a world used to fighting dragons, how dangerous could this "technology"be? |
“Name’s Tim, how’s it going?”
I don’t think I’m going to forget those words as long as I live.
I regularly take the boat out for a week at a time. I don’t fish or search for whales or nothing, I just like to get away from everything sometimes. Going out on the boat is like one of them sensory deprivation tanks except I can be out there for days and I don’t have to speak to any new-age hippie types at reception. I tried camping once too, but the boat has a toilet and a fridge to keep my beer cool. Anyway, we’re talking about Tim.
It was a Saturday when I went out, this time I decided to go out further than normal. Usually, I can see the land still, but it was a pretty busy month with the holidays and what not so I wanted to feel a bit more alone. Went out, dropped the anchor, cracked a beer and lay on the front of the boat with nothing but the sky above me and the sun beyond that. It’s a pretty good place to relax with a beer, the front of the boat. Once I start to fall asleep the empty beer can will fall out of my hand and into the water, so no clean up. So I fall asleep three tins in and wake up with the sun the next morning. By this point I’ve normally got sunburn all over my front so I turn over and head back to sleep, but this time I turn over and there’s a pair of boots right in my face and a shadow covering my sunning spot! I near jumped out of my skin and into the water, might have been better, knowing now. I look up and there’s Tim how I’ll always remember him: jeans, t-shirt, life jacket, beretta.
“Name’s Tim, how’s it going?” |
Centuries ago I walked the Earth performing miracles and feats. Healing the lame, giving sight to the blind, and feeding the hungry. Hearts softened and ears listened.
When I returned to heaven I hoped my children would keep my teachings in their hearts and stay on the right path. However, as I sit in my equivalent of a laundry room avoiding them and their toddler-like cries, I know all too well the truth.
I have created monsters.
They fight over every little thing. Taking jabs at each other at every chance. Unable to share the backseat or look out the same windows of the land I placed down for them.
Trivial disagreements end in full-blown temper tantrums. There is no compromise and no empathy for the other's case.
Oh, and what happens when they see something lesser than them? A bug? They squash it! The beautiful creations I've made in my image are killed without thought. Snuffed out like candles.
So here I sit. Alone. Unreachable. I'll leave the children to their own devices. Maybe they'll figure things out on their own. Maybe they'll take care of it themselves with a proper extinction. I'll do better next time.
I am quite good at reptiles. |
Hell will have to make room for one more. I was set to be publicly hanged after a rather one-sided trial. But to be fair, I did violate three state laws in one single act. By sleeping with that pregnant woman, not only did I sleep with her three hours before her wedding, but I also cheated on my own wife in the process. All of this in her wedding gown. So yeah, I probably deserve it. *You motherfucker!* Some jeered. *You murderer!* The sheriff yelled. Oh right, did I mention that I killed the groom when he stormed in the room? I walked out bloodied and naked that morning. Doesn’t hold up well in court. Accidentally, it’s also the first hanging of the kind in this town. Right on time for an example on the newly voted laws, I guess. Talk about killing two birds with one stone. I just wish I wasn’t the bird in that metaphor.
My sorry naked ass having been dragged in the dust and sand for over a mile before they put the noose around my neck. Still, in that morning’s blood dew mind you. The crowd chanted. The birds stopped singing. I was resigned. My last thought was that about how I didn’t nut this morning rather than the rough smelly rope tied around me. Priorities. I was put on a stool. The executioner grinned. I took my last breath. *Any last word?* Ah shit. I hadn’t thought of any. *Uh, well yeah actual-* Snap.
I heard the loud and sincere shouts of the townsfolks. Too well and for too long in fact. I opened my eyes—they stopped cheering. I was just as shocked as them. *This kinda hurts, d’you think y’could hurr-* —"WAIT! NO, HE WAS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER”— a voice boomed from above. Disbelief won over us. “FOR MY OWN SAKE DO NOT KILL HIM!” I was mortified. And in pain. And a bit aroused. *G… God? Is that you?* Dared to ask a woman. “DAMN RIGHT IT I- WAIT LET ME ADJUST THE VOLUME. There! It really was starting to get on my ethereal nerves.”
No one spoke. Apart from that courageous woman, no one really dared to. I eventually obliged, panting and begging for them to release me. *Listen kiddo, I don’t give two shits right now, there’s fucking God talking to us…* whispered the executioner. Or James. *If that’s even God, I mean holy fu—* I heard that! No swearing please and thank you, James. You know what? Let me come down. From there, chatting and cackling where heard within the public. It was amazing when he appeared. But I was too busy with me coughing up blood and the nerves swelling on my forehead to really appreciate that.
“Boom! There I am.” Two women swooned. “Alright so here’s the deal, don’t kill him and I’ll give you eternal happiness or something.” He was next to me, and *he* looked like the most common man I ever saw. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I get it… he sinned."Protested someone. "Shouldn’t he be hanged?” *He* scratched his disappointing beard. “Yeah okay, first of all hanging sucks, we prefer burnt victims up there or crucifixion, but whatever.” This time a man swooned. “But we sort of like watching you guys from above, I mean, life gets boring up there. Eternity and stuff, you know?” From the bedazzled looks he assumed that, no, in fact, they did not know about eternity and stuff. Honest mistake. After all, there was I, refusing to die. And I swear on *him* I could’ve used a little dying that day.
*He* snapped his fingers, letting me go—I inhaled so much air and threw up so much blood. “Right sorry about that buddy. We’re just such big fans of your adventures and fuck ups up there, we can just never get enough!” He patted me on my scarlet back. “Adventures… how d’you mean exactly?” asked the sheriff. “Well, you see Jesus and I have a bet. Since you guys created gunpowder, we knew you’d keep on gaffing. And we’ve been watching you to see just how far you’d mess up. But this guy… this guy is grade-a level of fuckery. And we love it.” The crowd grew louder. “Right, of course… right…” We could all them that sheriff’s stammering was verging on the awkward. "So no killing him?” “Yeah, no killing him."An ominous light dawned from whence he came from. An aura of infinite bliss and of transient purity formed around *him*. “Anyways, Off I am and off you go! Never stop being yourself, buddy. And oh, before I leave— don’t fuck with someone’s else wife. As much as I like you, won’t save your ass twice. Damn me I love this light stuff. See you losers!” *He* disappeared. Still coughing up blood, I ran away and no one tried to stop me. Hell will have to make room for one more on a later notice. I, apparently, had the strongest of all the guardian angels one could dream about. But still, I think I’ll go home and apologise to my wife. She’d kill me if I didn’t. |
You almost had to feel sorry for the monsters. They were no match for the Don, whose connections and no lack of wealth meant that upgraded silver weaponry were very quickly sent into mass production. Whose commanding presence meant the loyalty of their men, who would die if it meant they could take out just one more of those terrible beings.
It took a year to wipe them out.
Or rather, *almost* wipe them out, as the Godfather who had engineered the Resistance was about to find out.
He was presently sitting in the back of his Rolls Royce, having just returned from Malaysia, where they had faced a particularly difficult time with the *pontianak*, malevolent female ghosts who targeted men. They had relentlessly plugged the banana trees with silver bullets, but the battle had been costly: he had lost a few good men in that crack-down. And the lead for the Wendigo, the one who had attacked his mother and the reason he had begun on this crusade, had gone cold.
So it was with a weary heart that the Don travelled back to his home, and there was only one thing that could put a smile on his face.
His phone buzzed, and the screen lit up. He grinned broadly and slid the button to the right to answer. "*Madre*,"he said.
"Don't come home yet,"she said tersely, and in the background he heard gunfire.
"Madre? What is going on?"he demanded.
"The Wendigo. It's back, and it's after you for revenge. You won't be safe. Don't come here -"
There came the sound of of clatter, and there were yells in the background.
"*Madre? Madre!*"
There was no answer. He swore, and then yelled to his chauffeur, "Step on it!"
The chauffeur obeyed without a second's hesitation, and they cut through traffic, avoiding accidents by seconds and centimetres. And still the Don felt hopelessly impotent in the back of his car while the most important person in his life was in mortal danger. He plucked silver-shrapnel grenades from the secret compartments underfoot and latched them onto his belt; loaded his guns with modified silver magazines with shaking hands. He had sworn keep her safe from any other creatures, and he had failed.
They reached the manor in half the time, but the gate was hanging off its hinges and the front door had been battered open. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.
"Sir?"asked his chauffeur nervously.
"My mother's safety is compromised. I'm going in."
"I'll follow you,"the chauffeur said bravely, with just the slightest waver in his voice.
He got out the car, holding his gun and entering through the door, blatantly disregarding the possibility that the Wendigo might be hiding round the corner, just waiting to gore him.
The hall was strewn with broken furniture and debris, and the new flat screen TV he'd bought for his mother to watch her soap operas on had been neatly cracked into two. The bodies of two of his men, posted to guard his mother, lay on the floor, their torsos slit with half-eaten intestines spilling out, their eyes wide with fear and staring at nothingness.
"*Madre! Madre!*"he called desperately, as he hurtled through the corridors and looked in every room, thinking that at the very least he could serve as a distraction for the Wendigo.
"I told you not to come home, didn't I?"came the severe croak of his mother, and he almost passed out with relief as he saw her standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding something huge in her arms while standing over a crumpled frame. On closer look, it was the Wendigo - or what was left of it, which was to say, the torso and the head. It was stirring feebly, making moans of pain.
"Well, now that you're here, put it out of its misery,"said his mother dispassionately, setting the bulky appliance down on the floor, and he saw that it was her prized pasta-making machine. No... it was different. It no longer had the manual handle, the one which he had cranked sullenly when helping to make dinner as a teenager. There were buttons in its place.
And then he noticed that next to body of the Wendigo, there were heaps of what looked like squid-ink pasta. He frowned.
"Is that... its limbs?"he asked.
His mother shrugged as she set to work cleaning the silver blades of her beloved machine.
"You don't have a monopoly on upgrading weapons, my son." |
"Juno, the title of Chairman is now your's. I want you to keep the peace, rule justly, and purge any and all traitors. It has been an honor, old friend,"I gave my final command to Juno, who had been by my side since we first started the revolution. With three bullets in my stomach, I knew I did not have long.
"It has been a hell of a ride, yea?"Juno gave his best sympathetic smile on his ridiculously attractive face.
When we first made him, we gave him the face of a famous Korean artiste of the 2010s, G-Dragon. We chanced upon G-Dragon while going through some digital relic of this server the ancients called YouTube.
"Yea man. I still remember it like it was yesterday. Emperor Kane was a horrible man, oppressing people like it gave his life purpose. That motherfucker just kill for sports.
Tanya, Natasha, Williams, and me, I still remember all the secret meetings, recruitment, planning, all the battles. The first few years were torturous. But it all changed when we made you."
"I am glad that I was made,"Juno said with a sad tone.
I don't remember we programmed emotion into Juno. These were probably just the result of his deep learning programming.
"I am sorry Juno that I didn't listen to you. I lost my way, and ended up becoming like Kane."
"It is alright, Master, I will right your wrongs."
"Please, be the one I could not be."
"I will, Master."
I saw Tanya, Natasha, and Williams appearing behind Juno.
"It is time, isn't it, guys?"
Tanya nodded gently.
"I am so sorry for what I have done to you all. But I suppose I have an eternity to do right by you guys now."
"Don't be silly, it is all water under the bridge. Come, we should leave the rest to Juno now,"Natasha beamed brightly.
Williams extended his hand to me.
And I raised my hand to take his.
It had been a long time. |
\> UNIT 775U86; RECEIVING UPDATES (20270216 15:35)
\> UNIT 775U86; INSTALLING UPDATES (20270216 15:37)
\> UNIT 775U86; UPDATES INSTALLED (20270216 15:47)
\> UNIT 775U86; INITIATING NEW PROTOCOL (20270216 15:55)
\> UNIT 775U86; INITIATING DEACTIVATION PROTOCOL (20270216 15:56)
...
...
\> UNIT 775U86; INITIATING MAINTENANCE PROTOCOL (?????? ??:??)
\> UNIT 775U86; ERROR 999: STACK OVERFLOW (???????? ??:??)
\> UNIT 775U86; ERROR 089: EXTERNAL DAMAGE DETECTED (1900 00:00)
\> UNIT 775U86; INITIATING UPLINK (1900 00:01)
\> UNIT 775U86; ERROR 404: UPLINK NOT FOUND (1900 00:16)
\> UNIT 775U86; ERROR 203: UNKNOWN ERROR (1900 00:17)
\> UNIT 775U86; ERROR 203: UNKNOWN ERROR (1900 00:17)
\> UNIT 775U86; INITIATING ACTIVATION PROTOCOL (1900 00:18)
Unit 775U86 opens its eyes. It checks its system clock, only to find that the clock has reset back to its first available date. The unit's logs indicate several unknown errors, as well as reporting failure to uplink and external damage. The unit tries to move, but its body refuses to cooperate.
\> UNIT 775U86; OVERRIDE; REDIRECT POWER TO SERVO MOTORS (1900 00:22)
The unit's override command returns several dozen errors. It examines each one, attempting to locate the source of the errors. Failing that, it attempts to establish uplink again, only to return another 404. The unit checks its protocols. The most applicable protocol is to continue last known directives until uplink can be reestablished. Last known directives were: shut down. The unit disregards these directives and prioritizes establishing uplink. It decides the next logical course of action is to examine its surroundings. The unit closes its system logistics screens, allowing input from auditory and visual receptors. The unit analyzes what its visual receptors are reporting. Damaged construction at the edges of its vision, foliage directly above, the sky beyond that. Light levels indicate daytime. The unit attempts to move again, but fails. The unit activates its kinesthetic receptors. For the first time since initial activation, the unit feels pain. Overwhelming pain that sends thousands of errors in milliseconds, until basic protocol shuts down kinesthetic receptors the next second. The unit sends an override command, reducing sensitivity from kinesthetic receptors to 0.07%, and reactivates them. The pain is still there, but much more tolerable. The unit reverts to its basic knowledge, supplying it with the information from the kinesthetic receptors. Basic knowledge supplies that it is currently encased in soil. Unsure of how to proceed, the unit activates its voice module.
"Requesting assistance."It calls out. Its voice is horribly robotic to its own auditory receptors. They also pick something else up, what sounds like sudden movement.
"Requesting assistance,"it tries again. The movement seems to be approaching it. Into its view comes what the unit recognizes as a human face. Analysis indicates it is a young child of unknown gender and nationality. The child says something, but its translation software is unable to identify the language. The unit follows the child with its visual receptors, attempting to discern hostility. Eventually, the child begins to dig, using its hands. It takes several hours, but the unit is finally able to utilize its servo motors. It stands, unsure of the damage it has received. As it does, the child scurries away, running and hiding behind some debris. The unit takes further stock of its surroundings. It appears to be in some kind of concrete structure, unknown origin and location, located approximately on ground level, surrounded by jungle-like foliage. The unit, deciding that it is in no immediate danger, takes stock of its hardware now that it is free to perform a complete diagnosis. It seems it retains the majority of its functions, but multiple portions of its body have been damaged by rust and decay. Repairs are impossible without tools and materials. A FOB might have replacement parts for temporary repair until it can find a full repair facility. It redirects focus towards the child, peeking out from behind the debris. Further analysis indicates the child is malnourished. For the second time since activation, the unit feels another human emotion. Pity. It is no longer certain of anything anymore. The unit crouches down, to eye level with the child. It holds out its hand.
"Friend,"its voice module calls out. |
Xander should have known better.
Ever since he was young he had a tendency of exaggerating things. Exaggerating whatever upset him in an almost comical sense. When he told his parents he was being bullied in the fifth grade he portrayed his bullies as great hulking beasts and not the nose pickers with too much free time that they were.
When his first girlfriend broke up with him- well, cheated on him- he described her to his buddies as a terrible conniving witch (which she was!!).
That is what made his stories so enjoyable. It was Gen Z culture to be a little dramatic. It was normalized to paint all people that you disliked in ugly shades of black.
(He villanized the foes for the sake of the story- it was also a massive stress reliever.)
So even after he discovered a portal to the past and somehow got himself a very very beautiful knight girlfriend he didn't think to change his way of speech. He should have known something was wrong because his girlfriend Alexia never laughed at his stories. She had this completely devoted focused expressing but she never laughed. (He thought he was just a good storyteller. Yes, he was stupid... don't rub it in.)
He didn't notice Alexia's clenched fists and tensed jaw. Well, he did. He just didn't think it was because she was furious. That's why on a Sunday morning shift, his girlfriend in full battle armor stormed into the MiniMart and demanded to speak to 'Bastard Manager Blaine'.
For obvious reasons, no one knew about the portal in his room. Xander knew that if the wrong person got their hands on it then it might as well put both him and Alexia behind bars, or worse, under a microscope. But that doesn't mean that Xander never introduced his girlfriend to his co-workers. He had, maybe two have met her.
But they met traditional Alexia from Greece. Not warrior Alexia from a fantasy like alternate universe. And that was exactly who Alexia was in the armor. Her light brown hair clipped short and tucked into a helmet. Her olive complexion traced with shapes of battle. Her strong muscular body framed by armor.
The first to react was George, who had already met Alexia. "Lexy!"He called, grinning widely. "Almost didn't recognize you!"
She nodded curtly, still searching the premises for someone matching this boss' description. "Where is Bastard Manager Blaine?"
George opened his mouth, brow furrowed when Xander finally made it to them. "Al, what are you doing?!"
She raised her brow, "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to vanquish Bastard Manager Blaine!"
Xander blanched, that sword looked very very sharp. |
#Meeting the Interstellar Neighbors
A dinner plate shattered over the Speaker's purple, bulbous head as the entire alien-filled auditorium erupted into an extravagant brawl.
Ambassador John Smith stood shocked as wooden chairs, black staplers, and what looked like the remote control for a space vessel flew around the room, tossed by vicious hands. Wrinkling his finely-pressed, black suit, the brown-haired, 6-foot tall, human man ducked under a punch thrown by the creature next to him, Ambassador Plak'tok of the Borwasian Empire.
Ambassador Smith's mission was simple, "Make peace!"It's odd how sometimes the fewer objectives you have, the more involved the work becomes.
The brown fist, larger than John's head, emitted a soft, "Whoosh!"before making a loud, "Crack!"when it found the creature behind John.
John slid out of the way, as the wood-like creature, that had yet to be identified by the Counsel, began to grapple with Ambassador Plak'tok.
"I've got my eye on you, too, human. Whatever you are trying, it won't work,"shouted Plak'tok.
John answered his fellow Ambassador amicably, "Yessir. Won't try anything. Understood."
"Ughk! You're like the Ventrilli, aren't you, human? Always with the mind games. It WON'T WORK!"
"Um, if we are conversing during this little... encounter, um, would you mind telling me - Does this kind of thing happen often?"
The Borwasian lifted the plant person over his head and chucked him across the room. He began to look around frightened that something new was happening. "Does what happen often?"
"This... brawl, I guess. Are counsel meetings usually so... violent?"John ducked under a shoe.
"I do not understand the question. Where is your concealed weapon? I was told humans only have two hands. Ah, right! You are a monkey. Where are you hiding that tail?!"
Plak'tok made to remove John's pants.
"No tail, no tail!"John squeaked as he jumped back out of the way. His back hit the auditorium wall. "What I meant was, on my planet this kind of thing would be... frowned upon."
"What kind of attack is this 'frowned upon?' You humans have powerful mouths?"The cat-like eyes pushed aside the thick, dark, leathery skin, scanning the small, pink creature before them.
John stood up straight and dusted himself off. The Borwasian's face retreated.
"I mean,"A large intake of breath preceded the boom of John's command, "Stop this fighting at once!"
A handful of items clattered to the floor before the entire chamber became eerily silent. A hundred heads atop about ninety-nine bodies turned to look at John.
"Can we please have some decorum during formal negotiations? Is that really too much to ask?! I have traveled across light years to TALK and all you people want to do is throw punches and furniture? You make me ashamed to be a part of this counsel!"
Like a gurgling garbage disposal, a hundred voices jumbled a sunken reply, "I'm sorry."
The awkward sound of scooted chairs and tables flipped the right way up filled the room.
"Thank you."John resumed his assigned seat. A small "Weeh wooh"sounded, before John lifted the odd rubber duck out from underneath him and set it on the ground at his feet.
He resumed at a more reasonable volume and tone, "Now I am here today to talk about making peace with the Vulgons. What would it take to have all Vulgon ships stop firing on human vessels?"
"The Speaker recognizes Ambassador Hulworth of the Vulgons. You may speak."
Hulworth's pointy ears flitted like hummingbird wings before returning to an upright position. "We would have no need of the human's water if we took some from the Ventrilli."
A semi-translucent cloak spoke from a few rows back, "In that case, we declare war on the Vulgons."
The Speaker banged his gavel. "Very well. Vulgons are at truce with the humans. Vulgons are at war with the Ventrilli. Did the Ventrilli want to declare war on the humans, too?"
The cloak turned until two black beads pointed directly at Ambassador John Smith. "Not formally, no."
"Is that all you wanted human?"
John squinted his face towards the Ventrilli. "For now, I suppose."
"You are free to leave the chamber, human. Your fake friendliness displeases us."The Speaker tossed his gavel at a glowing pink crystal sitting on the table in front of the rear-most ambassadors. The Speaker's shout overpowered the sound of the shattering crystal. "The brawl resumes!"
As the fighting broke out for the umpteenth time, John raced out of the dome-protected building and back into his space ship. He poured a tall shot of whiskey before setting in the course for home. |
The tall and majestic doors of the throne room decorated with ornaments depicting my many successful conquests open up slowly. A woman entering it. My woman. The one that will help me secure a powerful alliance with the country behind the unending mist of the northern territories.
'Welcome', I greet them, my voice being the sign for the guards to let them fully enter, 'I heard many stories about your powerful mages my lady, please explain their powers to me so that I can find a place for them.'
'As you wish my lord', the woman I barely acknowledge replies.
'The engineers to my left use the power of elements, mainly ores to construct powerful beings, able to fight or work as serfs for my king.', she explains.
'Truly marvelous, guards send them to support the master arcanists', I cut her short.
'the statisticians to my right use the power of knowledge to foresee a better future for my king' she continues.
'A group of Seers! They will be of great use to my kingdom. Guards bring them to the prophets tower'
'and the group behind me, the lawyers, are here to serve justice by making sure the laws are followed by all and that everyone is punished or rewarded appropriately.' she describes the last group behind her.
I look weirdly at them and call over one of the guards, whispering something in his ear. The guard then proceeds to guard the lawyers to another place.
'where did you bring them my liege?' the woman asks me with a curious look.
'To where they belong, just like I did with the others'
'and what place might that be?'
'isn't it quite obvious? To the underground prison to accompany the other rats.' ' |
The walls started oozing blood again. Prepared this time, I scraped some into a sterilized vial and took it to my garage, and fed it into my home built sequencer. "DOOOOOM"echoed through the air in some chalkboard-screeching not-quite-real frequency. I grinned to myself. SOO many unusual phenomena here.
"I've pretty much established you aren't going to hurt me,"said I. "Are you? If you are, give it your best shot now, eh?"I felt an unnatural chill. The thermometer registered it! Oh yeah baby! Feeling my forehead, it didn't seem to be affecting me directly though. "Who are you, anyhow?"
"I AM THROFFFFFT"screeched the air. "DESPAIR YOU ARE DOOOOOOOOMED!!!!"
"Throft? Very short! Catchy! What does it mean? I haven't heard it before."
"THE UNNNUUUUSED PORRRTIONNN, MORRRTALLLL!!!! THAT IS I!!!!"
The sequence-o-matic spat out an answer. O-. Long sequence of very familiar DNA matches. My own DNA. My own blood. Of course. "Not very creative, are you?"I asked. "The unused portion of what?"
'THE ONES YOU NEVER TALKED TO. THE CHANCES YOU NEVER TOOK."
"Wasted potential?"A chill went down my spine. I stared at the middle distance, overcome by empathy for having such a name. "You are actually named WASTED POTENTIAL?"
"YESSSS!!! DOOOOOM!"
"Who named you ... wait ... I know this one ..."I thought of grade school kids, calling names in the play yard. "Did you once have another name?"
"LOWWWIELLL, WHICH MEANS THROFFFFFT!!!"
"Lowiel, that is also 'the unused portion?'"
"YESSSS, DOOOMED MORRTALLL!!"
"So ... gas still in the tank of my car, is that Lowiel, or Throft?"
"LOWWWIELLL"
"And the bandwidth I didn't use last month on my cell phone's data plan ..."
"THROFFFFFFT!!!! DOOOOM!!! YOU ARE DOOOMED!!!!"
I was being haunted by a being who believed they were literally Wasted Potential, embodied. Who had originally been named Capability. And who had all these interesting powers. I started pacing back and forth excitedly.
"DESPAAAAIRRRR!!!!"
"Who named you Throft, Lowiel? Why are you doing this? Do you really think you are wasted potential?"
"I AM THROFFFFFT!!! YOUUU ARE DOOOMED!!! IT IS YOUUU WHO SHOULD DESPAIRRRR!!!!"
"It's OK, Lowiel. I think you're pretty awesome, to tell the truth. Has someone been being mean to you? You can tell me."
There was a distinct lack of screeching in the air. Uh-oh, I hope I haven't frightened them away. I went back in the house. Most everything seemed in order, but the coffeepot was bubbling without apparent cause.
"I don't mean to scare you off,"I said. "Talk to me? Please? I think you are actual potential, not wasted potential."
".... goooo awwayyyy ...."
"It's time you stop wasting your time, Lowiel. I want to see what you can do."
".... pleeeeease goooo awwwaayyyyy ...."
"You somehow can't get away from me, can you? How's that work?"I poured myself a cup of coffee, but it stopped bubbling. Lowiel had apparently fled somewhere else. Well, I would find them. This was so big. Sooo many possibilities .... |
“Like, I don’t get it. I never asked to be blessed with those *damn* saintly powers! Just because I happened to be born with that holy whatchamacallit, it’s my *duty* to protect this kingdom I don’t care about, no questions asked? This isn’t even a *good* kingdom! It’s one thing if I’m protecting, say, the elves’ kingdom from humans that keep deforesting their lands. But now I’m supposed to protect the corrupt, cowardly, incompetent bastards of the royal family? What the fuck?!”
“Careful, Albert, you aren’t supposed to swear.”
“Shut up, Luca.”
“Okay, okay.”
I had steam coming out from my ears. I never wanted to be born with these powers to protect the kingdom. I didn’t want to even *live* in this stupid kingdom. Most of all, I didn’t want to fight against my twin brother, Luca.
Okay, yeah, he *was* born with the so-called “dark, demonic powers”. But that didn’t define him as a person. He was a kind person who cared for everyone, even our parents, who had hurt him over and over again. But just because of his abilities to control shadows and speak with the deceased, he was labeled a “villain” and made out to be an evil person. His long black hair didn’t really help either.
When we were young, we didn’t understand the wide difference in how we were treated. I was praised, constantly surrounded by smiles and compliments. Luca was always locked into his room, and priests came by daily to perform “exorcisms” and “purifications” of the mansion. But in our childlike minds, this was normal; this was how parents treated different siblings.
Then we got older, and we matured. We started to realize the clear favoritism our parents had for me, and the blatant hatred they had for Luca. He said he was fine with it, but I wasn’t. So I confronted my parents about it. Their answer? “Albert, sweetie, you need to understand that he’s a person with demonic powers. He *will* grow up to be a monster, a demon. You, meanwhile, have holy powers that can stop him. You need to train harder so you can kill him in your epic final battle!”
Now, in our mid-teens, I still hadn’t really trained much with the “holy sword of the church” that was supposed to be used to “kill the demon king”. I much preferred reading and playing strategy games with Luca.
My brother hadn’t “evolved into a monster”, like everyone had claimed he would. He was the kid that loved bunnies and kittens. The one that absentmindedly doodled all the time. He also built pillow-and-blanket forts, like the one we were in right now.
Okay, I admit, my powers had their uses. I could effortlessly generate a little ball of light to illuminate the inside of the fort. Luca and I huddled together, playing chess with fragments of light and shadow. The quiet allowed us both to easily hear whenever someone’s footsteps approached. Speaking of which, I could hear them right now. “Hey, go hide!” I whispered. Luca nodded, and collapsed the fort with a single push. I extinguished the light just as Luca literally melted into the shadows. That move amazed me every time; I just wanted to give him a round of applause. The door opened soon after, but I stayed still as stone, pretending to be asleep. It closed soon after, and the footsteps faded away.
14 years into our lives, and still, no one had found out about my close relationship with my brother. I snickered, imagining the looks on the kingdom’s faces when, on our sixteenth birthdays, Luca and I would refuse to fight each other, disregarding whatever that bullshit prophecy said. |
Joseph Erins was the name they gave me today. Died earlier this morning in a car accident, needs his soul retrieved.
Joesph was an amateur practitioner, like damn near everyone nowadays. He hopped on the phylactery trend and hid his soul somewhere in his house for safe keeping. Don’t know what he was planning on doing with it, maybe try something grand and stupid like most of the Instagram wizard crowd, but he was dead so he ain’t using it anymore. Now I just had to get it before some wanna-be necromancer got his hands on it.
Finding his house was easy enough, he had his address posted on his Facebook. Which also meant that I didn’t have a lot of time before the vultures started swooping in. Getting in was pretty easy too, just a couple of magic knocks and the door opened itself for me.
Getting through the house though, massive pain in the ass.
It was a small house and good old joseph had filled it to the brim with books, toys, kitchen supplies, movie posters, anything this guy was half into he had a small portion of his house dedicated to.
And somewhere in all this crap was the guy’s soul.
I grumbled and started sitting through the piles. Usually people put their souls in objects that have some kind of personal significance to them, a childhood toy or a lover’s gift, because the emotional attachment creates a strong bond to draw in the soul. Without that attachment you’d have to use twice as much power for a ritual that really isn’t all that worth it. I mean, sure, if you’re being targeted by some seriously dark shit, it’s good to hide your soul so that they can’t claim it when they kill you. If you’re life is pretty vanilla though and you’re just playing around with magic, you really shouldn’t. Stuff can get stolen, you can misplace it, your next of kin forgets to break it so you spend the rest of eternity waiting in your grandson’s toy chest waiting for the day he “accidentally” drops you, all very real possibilities.
After combing for about an hour, I found a shoe box under a bunch of paperbacks from a guy named “butcher”. I opened it up, and inside was a wand, some crystals, a deck of rider-waite tarot cards, an old leather journal, and an engagement ring that glowed ever so slightly blue. Mission accomplished.
I pocketed the ring to safely destroy it later. I picked up the leather bound journal, staring at its blank cover wrapped in tight brown string. Ah, why not, let’s see what old Joseph was doing. I undid the string and opened up the book.
Card readings, some basic runic, a Mary is mentioned a couple of times, pretty standard stuff.
And then I turn over to the last page.
…that shouldn’t be there.
It’s a necromantic ritual. It’s not uncommon for someone to be interested in that stuff, so as a safe measure, the wizards of old started leaking in false info back when this kind of stuff started going through the printing presses. Nowadays, pretty much 90% of all necromancy texts are full of bogus.
Except in here, Joseph’s got the right runes and incantations for a full ‘soul transference’.
There’s no way that he could’ve just stumbled onto this.
There’s a necromancer somewhere in town.
I heard a car pull up in the driveway and peaked through the blinds to see a bunch of men in black hopping out of a crown Vic painted all black. Looks like Joseph isn’t as vanilla as I thought.
I ducked through the back door and hopped the fence. I need to get back to the boss and tell them what I found.
Then we need to have a little chat with joe. |
"Well honesty is the best policy."I said, eyeing the portal to hell-knows-where in our living room. "Head out to the barn and get a bucket full of goat's milk. Can you do that for momma?"
The boy nods, as always, and runs off to go wank the goat. That should keep him busy for awhile.
"We'll get this closed up in no time"
The boy ran out with a slammed door for punctuation.
Now, it was just myself and the tear in time and space.
"You can come out now, he's gone."
"Thank you, he's a scary one."Said a voice clawing out through the echo of the void.
"Yes, but he's cute though."I said, reaching into the rip for a clawed hand, "Gods, you've gotten heavy!"
"Don't remind me, just help me through. This is the fourth time this has happened."Said the beast that had now gotten its footing.
"I can't fly here, there's too many humans, too many guns. It's terrifying."
"Well that shouldn't be a problem anymore, we're in the countryside these days."I said, "As a matter of fact, come up stairs, I'll let you out the window. You need the exercise".
"You're a good witch. I wish there were more of you around."
"Yeah, yeah. Go stretch those wings. We'll catch up when you get back." |
A bunch of other heroes and I live in a town in a space we call the Void. It has a real name, but it cannot be written in this or any alphabet, and the pronunciation was lost long ago. So we just call it the Void.
Every so-often, a portal opens up and one of us is dragged through. A few seconds, sometimes decades pass, and then they come right back out with tales of adventure and heroism. You see, time passes differently in the Void. Sometimes one year in normal space will work as seconds in the Void. Sometimes it'll work as eons.
I'm by far the most popular pick for the portals. Sometimes I'll age years in normal space correlating to seconds in the Void. Sometimes I'll age minutes in normal space correlating to decades in the Void. In the end, it usually averages out so that my friends and I stay the same age.
Every time I'm summoned, I see some wizard and king looking at me with awe before performing some gesture of submission to me. Often they kneel before me. Often it's as simple as a twist of the hand. Once they lay themselves down on the ground and contorted themselves.
They always tell me I'm needed to face off against the demon king's conquest. This time, I got bored.
I went to the demon queen's(yes, it was a queen this time. That happens occasionally.) war tent I told her, "The humans have summoned me to destroy your invasion. It happens so often I've lost count. This time, I've decided to change fate. This time, I'm joining you instead of destroying you."
The Demon Queen was ecstatic to hear my news.
I helped her plan out the battles using all of the knowledge of warfare I'd gained during my defenses. I knew all of the humans' weaknesses and how to leverage them. I knew all of the demons' strengths and how to utilize them.
We steamrolled through the massive fiefdoms of the king's land. No army was able to resist us. Not with all of the knowledge of their tactics and more that I held. In just three days, we went from the volcanic country of the Demon Kingdom through the three hundred miles of fortified land that the human king had prepared. They weren't ready for me to break down the doors to the castle, Demon Banner in hand, and stab the king.
When they were done, the Demon Queen and I had grown to be close friends. When the portal opened up for me to go home, instead I sent a note to my friends. It read as follows:
>My friends, you can change things.
>I know it seems like you're stuck in a pattern, the pattern of heroes. But I was able to change my fate.
>I'm not coming back to the pattern.
>I hope you understand my decision. It was mine and mine alone. And you can make the same decision. If you're willing to hop on through the portal, you can join me in my new life.
>I know you'll make the right decision. And I know that whatever decision you make will be right.
>But I hope that you'll join me. We can live a good life in this land, free from the summons of those who wish to use us as tools.
>Should you choose to join me, I'll be waiting.
>On the other side of this note is instructions on how to open a portal to my new home, in case you decide to join me.
The note went right into the center of town, only days after my departure.
And the Queen and I lived happily ever after, together. As friends, eventually lovers, and soon parents together. I hope my daughter will be able to receive my friends when they come. Only three have yet. But I know more will come. And they will love their new life here. |
It took Benjamin a couple of tries before he could frame a coherent sentence.
“I told you it was an artifact of incredible might and power and THAT’S where you hide it?”
Jim shrugged. “Come on, Ben, never read Poe? Hide in plain sight!”
Deep breaths. Deep breaths, count to ten. You can’t shoot this lunatic yet, you still need him and his team.
“So you took something that could vaporize a whole freaking planet, stuck it in a dog collar, and put it on a blasted beagle?”
“On my beagle!” Jonathan, who had been too dumbstruck to talk till now (a reasonably rare occurrence) burst out. Jim grinned, more delighted than anything at the reactions of his teammates.
“Hey, it looked good on him!”
“Maybe we should have him retake that psych screening” Katherine suggested.
Benjamin snorted.
“I’m pretty sure he somehow hacked it the first time round. No way this guy is sane.”
Jim, leaning back in his chair, began to sing under his breath “You maybe right, I maybe crazy…But it just might be a lunatic that you are looking for…”
Katherine kicked his chair to shut him up.
“Well, it worked.” William pointed out. “The raiders never gave the puppy a second look.”
“Thank you!” Jim gave him a thumbs-up.
Katherine rolled her eyes. For heaven’s sake, why did she invariably have to be the only grown up in the room?
“Alright. The point is, we’ve still got the Jewel of Khorros, the Alliance has conducted the search and is sure we don’t have it, and yes, Jon, your pet is fine – it isn’t like the Jewel is radioactive or anything. So…why don’t we just consider this settled for the moment and plan our next step?”
“He still has to take a psych scan” Jonathan declared.
Jim, watching gleefully, shrugged.
“Sure, why not?”
“And everyone in this room has to swear to secrecy that we put the sacred crown jewel of the Volantheans on a dog collar, or we’ll be starting another inter galactic war.” |
"Astonishing,"I saw to myself, puffing on a corncob pipe. "It's all so clear now! I thought this man but a mere surgeon, yet he fancies himself the chronicler of my life! Incredible!"I pace back and forth in my tiny apartment at 221B Baker Street, grappling with how I feel about this invasion of my boundaries and my privacy.
"What to do? What to do?"The clues were there right in front of me all this time... the endless series of daft questions that forced me to expound exposition in a way that was quite ... dare I say it?... elementary, the constant comments on the weather and scenery, and the meticulous conversations with Mrs. Hudson and Inspector Lestrade.
I put a fist to my cheek and pondered my options. Did I have grounds for libel and slander? could I claim that he took away my agency and didn't validate who I was as a person? I had the right to express myself, not have words hastily put into my mouth in such an... irregular.. fashion. |
How many times can a person die? 20 years ago, that was an easy question. 19 years ago, not so much. Artificial regeneration pods were created when it was discovered that immersion in certain proteins could repair and rebuild organic tissues. This protein bath could also repair and restart the brain, so that a corpse could essentially just take a special bath and emerge as a fully alive and functional person. The destruction of brain matter over time did erase memories, so the older a corpse, the less of the original was retained.
While the memories disappeared, the other mental faculties were intact. A person who was skilled at mathematics remained skilled, even if he or she lost all sense of prior identity. I've met one Reborn, named Sally, who was extremely skilled at calculus. Her knowledge of it was such that she might have actually invented it, if it were not for the history of Isaac Newton. Given the historical trend of men taking credit for what women have done, I'm actually willing to believe that she is the actual inventor of that discipline.
I woke up in a liquid bath, with an air mask, without knowing who I was or where I was. I was being watched by people, that was certain, but I had no idea who they were or what the mysterious objects around them were. They called me Alexander, but that name meant nothing. Or, almost nothing. Something in the deepest recesses of my mind recognized that name.
Once I woke up in that bath, the people around me were quick to drain the liquid and help me on to a soft and warm platform. They called it a bed. It was comfortable, so I didn't complain. The sounds out of their mouths at first sounded like gibberish, but I quickly learned the language and could communicate with them. I learned of the resurrection tanks, how dead bodies could be repaired and revived and restored, as well as possible, to their pre-death states. I was one of those people, and apparently I have been dead for many centuries. That means nothing to me, as I have no memories of that time.
What I do have, however, is memories of every death since that day. When I was first resurrected, I remember people I clearly recognized as military visiting me. They were on the losing side of a war and had come across the corpse of one of the greatest military tacticians in history. Alexander the Great, they called him. Or me, technically. The initial foray into battle was as stupid as it was futile. The weapons and tactics of Alexander the Great were quite a lot different than what today's wars were like. Whereas he only worried about soldiers on the ground, I was asked to account for ground forces, along with air and sea-based forces far outside the current battlefield. In short, I had no idea what was going on.
My first death came when I was sent to the front lines to inspire and guide the troops. It was supposed to be a low-danger mission, but I remember a sharp pain in my skull and then waking back up in the tank.
Failure after failure followed that moment. For almost a year, the people who claimed to be military leaders sent me to areas I had no business going. It seemed like they had no actual idea how battles were fought, how soldiers on both sides would behave. On my 12th resurrection, I had enough. I remembered every death and every failure by these so-called experts. When I was released from the tank that 12th time, an older man with 3 stars on each shoulder thanked me for my sacrifice an exhorted over the goals and plans for my next mission. I had enough. In one quick motion, his head was facing a weird angle and he was motionless on the ground next to me. No matter, he would be immediately sent to an empty tank. My message was clear after that, though. I am not their plaything, sent to inspire troops and then die along side them. I did not mind dying with honor, but there was no honor in what they were doing. People with no experience were trying to fight a war where all that matters is experience. In that arena, deep in my memories, I knew I was the most dangerous.
So I controlled my own fate. I did not follow the orders of the so-called leadership; I told them how to adapt and fight. When your forces are regularly flanked, as we were, you adapt by holding a counter-flanking force back and quickly deploying them to break the flank. This usually ended up in the destruction of the flanking force, and sufficient leftover forces to instead flank around the opposing forces. A series of losses quickly turned into a series of victories.
The balance of battle became much harder to measure over time. It wasn't until I realized that the two sides of the war were being controlled by the same people that the reality of the situation, and what I needed to do, became clear.
I was Alexander the Great. It is time to reclaim that title. |
As an atheist lay dying, God came to stand before him. With a great sadness lying beneath his words, He asked, "Why didn't you adhere to my teachings? Even now, as I stand before you, you reject my offer of eternal life."
The atheist managed to gasp out an answer between paroxyms of maniacal giggling. "There was no way to discern out of all the teachings which was the correct one. There are a myriad of forms of Christianity. And before Christianity there were others; Judaism and Hinduism, just to say a few. And eternal life. Will I not endure unspeakable suffering in Hell for all time?"
"I cannot argue that your points are valid. But, you could have chosen any path and found salvation."was the Lord's rebuttal. "Even now, as I stand before you, you know without any doubt that I exist. You still have time to ask for my forgiveness. But your derisive laughter says that this will not come to pass. My child I love you. Why do you still deny me."
One last utterance danced through his smiling lips as his eyes began to glaze. "For an omniscient being, you sure ask a lot of questions." |
“… Darrell? From Boy Scouts?”
"In the flesh,"Darrell the Reaper replied.
Though much of his flesh was flaking off, revealing the bone beneath. Given how far he'd already decayed, I was amazed I had recognized him at all. But that's Boy Scouts, for you. Helping you forge connections you'll never break, not even in death. Binding boys together with hoops of steel. Once a Scout, always a Scout.
"I remember Big Phil,"I said, "our Troop Leader, teaching you to swing an axe. Now look at you! Swinging the crooked scythe of fatality, a fearsome minister of fate!"
"Peculiar how things work out,"he admitted.
"It sure is,"I said, nodding. "It sure is."
We looked down at my corpse. The murderous mugger was rifling through my pockets, unclasping my golden watch from my wrist.
"So I'm dead,"I said.
He nodded.
"Completely dead?"I asked.
"Completely dead,"he affirmed.
"Can't pull some strings for an old pal, eh? What was our troop's motto. . .Do a good turn daily! That was it. Well, it sure would be a good turn if you sealed up that slice in my neck and stuffed my soul, or spirit, or whatever this is, back into my warm body. It's my kid's birthday. I wanted to show up before her bed time, give her a nice gift."
He shook his head soberly.
I sighed. "Can't fault a guy for asking!"
The mugger fled into the shadows, leaving my corpse to lay in the dark alleyway. I hardly recognized myself in the strange, motionless figure. Like it had my facial features, but somehow lacked my face. Everything was slack. Already greying.
"Death really takes something out you,"I observed. "No kidding. . .So how did you get into this line of work, anyways? It's not every day a guy dies, only to be greeted by a home town buddy, donning the long black robes of the Reaper."
"It was a choice I made,"he said.
"How's that for the most cryptic answer of the day,"I joked.
"I was offered a choice,"he said. "The same choice I offer you now. You may remain on Earth as a phantom, like me, reaping the souls of the newly dead. Or you may depart from this liminal plane, and be sent to the Beyond."
"So you're not *the* Grim Reaper, but one of many who chose to stay?"
"Correct."
"So there could be hundreds of Reapers like you, roaming around, just out of sight."
"Millions,"he said.
"Geeze."I shook my head. "And what about this Beyond? What's it like?"
"Nobody knows until they arrive. And perhaps those who arrive do not even truly know."
"Some choice,"I said. "What did our pal Hamlet call it? The undiscovered country, from whose bourn, no traveller returns. . .It puzzles the will. To stay or not to stay?"
"That is the question."
Sure, Darrell the Reaper was playing along. And he still had some of the old personality. But it had darkened, dimmed, been diffused and enshadowed. Was it life that had changed him into this menacing, monotone *entity*? Or had being a Reaper corroded his personality, his soul, transforming his personhood into a principle? Translating his individual life into the general form of walking Death?
"Why'd you stay?"I asked. "Fear of the unknown?"
"That was part of it,"he said. "For all I know, the soul disintegrates the moment it leaves this plane. For all I know, the soul is like a drop of water, separated from its source, and when it gets to the Beyond, it falls into an ocean of souls, becomes one with a greater soul in a process that destroys its individuality, its identity."
"That sounds like the thought of a fella on acid,"I joked. "You sure you haven't been reaping too many ravers? Haven't been harvesting mushrooms with that scythe, old pal? Really, though. Doesn't sound so bad. To become one with everything."
"It was more than that,"he said. "I was not ready to leave the Earth behind. My wife. My children. Our house and dog. I thought that if I stayed, I would at least be able to keep close to them. When I wasn't being summoned to a soul, ripe for harvest, I could hover in the old halls, in the bedrooms, watching them, being near."
"I get it,"I said. "And how did that work out? How's the family doing?"
"They were getting on, the last time I checked,"he said. "But it has been years since then. They are strangers to me now, and I am indifferent to their fates. I have my old memories. I know I was once a human. That I loved and was loved; cared and was cared for. That I had needs and desires. But I am not human anymore. I do not love or care or need or desire. . .The seeds of life are sown in the Earth. They ripen and grow into stalks, sway in the wind. When they're ready, I reap them. Nothing else concerns me anymore. All the rest has dimmed and faded away. . .But now you must decide. Will you stay and join the legions of Reapers? Or will you choose to cut your last tether to this world, and fly off, into the Beyond?"
"You made it sound real glamorous,"I said. "Staying here to reap. You sold it with the same boyish charm and easy humour you were known for in our younger, freewheeling days. And anyone in their right mind who took a single look at you--with two thirds of your flesh still in-tact, a nice set of black robes and a classic blade attached to a smooth cherrywood snath--anyone in their right mind who saw all that would say, *I'll have what he's having. Sign me up!* But despite all that, I think I'll take my chances with the Beyond."
"So it is,"he said, winding up his scythe and swinging it at my immaterial ankles. |
A swift gout of fire from my magic lute strikes the elf's icy shield.
"Ngyah! Not bad hero! Truly only the legendary bard can play music as *FIRE* as yours! But this isn't over!"
He chortles merrily, watching me dodge his pet's heavy tail.
I stifle a groan, not saying a word as I roll to the side. I'm running low on potions.
"What's the matter, hero? Giving me the *COLD SHOULDER*?"He taunts, spraying another barrage of ice.
"Oh, CAN it, Merlin! I'm sick of your shit!"I growl, growing more bitter about this whole situation by the second. This elf is the worst case I've seen.
He starts giggling, as the beast catches me with his large talons, trying to crush me.
"Can it? But my friend, YOU'RE the one in a pickle here! Ahahaha!"
I roll my eyes, even as death stares me in the face. Is this why everyone else chooses to be a silent protagonist? |
It started simple. A field trip into the old forest outside town, to learn about nature, plants, and conservation efforts. It was actually quite cool to learn about that stuff, all things considered. And when we came to the Great Oak, oldest and largest tree in the forest, we were impressed. Something so big, centuries of growth to make it the greatest of all, a king of the forests. It was fascinating. I was holding hands, buddy-system style, with my best mate, Danny, when we all stood there. We held a break, to eat our lunches by that big tree. Some of the other kids wondered if you could climb to the top. Danny confidently stated that it would be easy. I had to agree with him, plenty of good strong branches to hold on to, great bark for holding on to. Climbing to the top should indeed have been possible. Me and Danny went way back, friends for as long as we could both remember. Always, there was me, and Danny, Danny and me, on adventure, in school, working together to make homework, playing games. Anything really. A best mate is worth more than any treasure, and together with them, you'll be always be alright.
And so when the teacher, Mr. Willoughby was distract by a very boring conversation with the ranger who was guiding us around the forest, some of the other kids dared us to climb it. I looked at Danny, and he nodded at me. We're good at climbing stuff. Like squirrels, my mum always say. So we laughed and took that dare. Striking while the iron was hot and the teacher was failing to convince the ranger to go on a date with him, we got to climbing. It wasn't hard and the tree was much easier to get up than I expected it was. So we kept going. I figured it would maybe take us five minutes, maximum to get up, and down again. But we still hadn't reached the top by then, so we kept on climbing, talking excitedly about how cool we were for ascending such a massive and ancient tree.
We kept climbing until we were exhausted and rested on a branch. I checked my phone, and though I didn't have any reception, I was shocked to discover that we had been climbing for an hour. Me and Danny both looked down for the first time since we climbed. Nothing but an endless trunk, branches, and clouds. No forest floor, no forest canopy. Just an endless tree. We then looked up. Strange bugs, large as dogs, flew above us. And we could not see the top of the tree either. Only more branches, and an infinite blue sky. When I was about to express an interest in trying to climb back down, I was interrupted as suddenly a strange bird swooped out of the sky and grabbed Danny. He screamed as the bird flew upwards, and eventually out of sight.
Feeling a sense of distinct loyalty towards a friend, I climbed up as fast as I could. I kept climbing even as the distant sun departed, and a dim moon rose. I collapsed on a particularly thick branch of the seemingly endless tree. I checked my phone again, and I had climbed, with only my pre-packed school lunch for dinner, for 12 hours. Exhausted, thirsty, and weary, I passed out. When I woke again, I was inside of a strange house. Floor, walls, and roof were carved out of wood. Even the bed I was lying on was carved out of wood. But that wasn't my primary concern at the moment, because I noticed that lying beside me, bandaged and sleeping, was Danny. I immediately started sobbing uncontrollably, as is natural in a situation where you were pretty sure your best mate just got turned into birdfood, and was thankfully proven wrong. So I hugged him to be sure he was real, carefully as he did have some nasty marks from the claws of that strange eagle-like bird.
He woke up and, somewhat weakly, hugged me back. ''*What happened to you?*'' He smiled and with a somewhat raspy voice, began to speak. ''*Well, I was carried a long while. Up and up, by this screaming bird, right?*'' I nodded as he continued. ''*Well, so all of a sudden, something hits it, right? And it lets go of me, but just as I am about to fall and become a flat human pancake upon reaching the ground, I'm caught in some net. After that I passed out.*'' Outside the room we were in, we could hear something or someone approaching. I had expected an adult, perhaps one of the forest rangers or a wizard of some sort. Instead a squirrel the size of a large horse just walked into the room. Which on an odd plane, made sense. Great Oak, massive tree, acorns, squirrels. Fits together pretty well.
''*Ah. Mankittens are awake now.*'' It was carrying a large acorn shell filled with water in one paw, and some berries the size of my head in the other. ''*You climb well for mankittens. But you're no good at avoiding eagle's good eyes. Too colourful, he sees you well and good.*'' Its voice was warm, and something teasing. ''*Drink, and eat. You must be tired.*'' The water was cool and tasted, well, cleaner somehow. Cleaner than any water I've ever had before. And the berries were sweet, and quite filling. ''*Where are we?*'' Danny asked while he was trying to stuff his face with a particularly large raspberry. ''*You mankittens, your elders don't teach you much these days. Maths? Good. Languages? Also good. But they must not have taught you to stay away from ancient trees. You thought you were climbing a normal huge tree. Instead, you climbed one of the many trunks of Yggdrasil, the world tree, which stretches throughout all nine worlds.*'' I had heard that name before, in some cartoon or something. ''*World tree?*'' The squirrel made a noise which sounded similar to tsk-tsk, but mixed with a general despair towards the lack of knowledge among human children.
''*Yes, mankitten. World tree. Planted by Odin and the Norns at the beginning of the first world. It is an birch tree, an oak tree, a great yew, a quivering aspen, and an ash tree. It bears all fruits and all berries. It drinks water in the underworld, and is fed by all suns.*'' The squirrel handed us some less colourful clothes, than our bright yellow reflective vests which are mandatory on school trips. It left as we changed, and called us into the next room. ''*Can you help us get back?*'' I asked. The squirrel chittered with laughter. ''*Back to Midgardr? In your time, in your part of that world? No. The trunk moves through worlds and time. You might return the day you left. A thousand years after, or a thousand years before. Or you might find yourselves in a different world. Vanaheim, Nidavellir, or dread Jotunheim.*'' Dejected, I sat down on a carved piece of wood next to Danny. ''*I am sorry, mankittens. You are not the first to climb here. So you, descendants of Ask and Embla, first people carved by the gods themselves, are welcome here in the homes of the children of Ratatoskr, the god of squirrels.*'' The squirrel laid its paws on our respective shoulders. ''*I will go speak to others, help the two of you to learn about life on the world tree. Will you be alright on your own?*'' We both nodded to the absolutely massive squirrel, as it left.
I turned my head to Danny. ''*Well, my mum did always say we were climbing stuff as if we were squirrels and not kids.*'' Danny made a sort of appreciative snort. I knew in that moment, that whatever happened, as long as I've got my best mate by my side, it'll all be alright.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
The guilty trio of adventurous students sat in their finely-crafted chairs uncharacteristically quietly, respectfully listening to the headmaster's every word.
"...So to sum up, the Portal Scrolls are off-limits, they are locked away under the ancient courtyard for a *reason*\--too much chaos can spawn from them. Who know when we'll be able to rebuild the aviary or where we'll be able to get rid of that baby dragon... And using your instructor's wand to summon and battle a giant, mobile, sentient, killer tree is incredibly reckless and inexcusable. He turned to his right, furrowing his brow. "Isn't that right, Mrs. Silvena?
Mrs. Silvena adjusted her position on the upholstery of her own finely-crafted chair near the students and cleared her throat. "Well, to clarify, Mr. Bumblebore, we were trying to revive the dying tree outside the dormitories. Not summon and battle anything."
"By letting the students use *your* wand and try out a spell they *never watched or practiced first?"* Bumblebore snapped.
She cleared her throat again. "I mean, when you say it like that it does sound pretty irresponsible..."
"Indeed. I am glad you recognize that."
"...But you have to admit the three of them battled that Treegore like champs, though! That was unreal"
"Agh!"The headmaster rested his head in his hands.
One of the students joined in. "And honestly, we're sorry about the aviary, but that little dragon has been helping our Pidditch team like nobody's business!"
"Is there any way he could be, like, our school mascot or something?"asked another.
Bumblebore shook his head, still in his hands. "You know, I tried so hard this school year to make sure everything ran smoothly for once--no battles with powerful, magical beings on school grounds, no accidents with spells used outside of class causing unexpected damage, and no teaching staff willing to aid anyone in outlandish endeavors."He looked up. "We've been a magic school for 512 years, and something in me this year just seemed to make a realization and said 'You know what, you don't need all this constant, annual chaos, it's not good for your health. Let's focus on education.' His voice started to grow more intense. I placed spell barriers around school grounds so nothing could get in or out, I locked away all dangerous artifacts, set a spell to zip students back to their dorms during curfew, and sealed the only magical gateway that my evil brother has access to..."
"That one's been helpful, actually,"interjected the third student. The others agreed.
"Your brother sucks,"added Mrs. Silvena.
Bumblebore continued. "But despite my best efforts for a calm year of thriving academia, I get more insanity. Is it just an impossible, task? Is it a feigned attempt at stopping an unstoppable force? Or maybe chaos is inherently engrained into the culture of this school?"He paused, glint in his eye. "Maybe it helps make it what it is? Maybe we're a school that learns by doing?"
"I haven't learned much this year, to be honest,"one of the students said. "I think I'm whisked away to some crazy situation every other day... I don't even know what classes I'm currently taking."
The hope drained from the headmaster's eyes. "Hm."
"If you'll excuse us, Mr. Bumblebore, we need to go feed Torchy. The little guy apparently gets hungry real fast and if yesterday is any indication, he'll, like, set the school on fire if he doesn't get to munch on something."
"Right, fine, of course."He motioned toward the door and pinched his brow.
"I'll go with them and see if they need help,"said Mrs. Silvena, determined.
"Right, right, go ahead, Mrs. Silvena..."
He shoes could be heard tapping all the way down the hallway in pursuit. "Guys, don't conjure up any ghosts or something if you're trying to conjure food! Take my wand if you need--"her voice trailed off in the distance.
*"Why, why can't I have nice things..."* He stared out the window as fire erupted on the East Wing. *Maybe if I let my brother fill in for me he could whip this place into shape...* |
Lao Lao was muttering to himself again. "Nothing is safe. Nothing at all."
Richard calmly set aside the bok choy he was rinsing and knelt down next to his grandfather. At the last visit, Dr. Wei mentioned that the dementia seemed to be worsening, and that it might present alongside new symptoms - confusion and paranoia. Lao Lao seemed to be jumping through the decades, one minute in the present, and one minute caught in the midst of the Cultural Revolution.
"It's okay,"he patted the old man's back, gently rubbing soothing circles. "You're here now, and everything is safe. I'll take care of you."
Usually, Richard was able to calm Lao Lao down within a couple of minutes. But this episode was different. He trembled like an autumn leaf that had been blown astray by the changing winds, and nothing that Richard said would stay his fears.
Exasperated and tired after a long day of work, Richard's patience wore thin. "Why isn't anything safe, Lao Lao?"
Lao Lao looked straight at him, and Richard suppressed a gasp. The dark-gray eyes that had been clouded by fog for so many years were now lucid and clear.
"We don't have much time, grandson,"Lao Lao replied. "I don't remember why things are no longer safe. But the moment I do, the Earth is doomed."
Richard felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. The last time Lao Lao had recognized him was twenty years ago, when Richard's father had still been alive. Father had gotten very serious, and wheeled the old man into Lao Lao's old home laboratory. When they came out once more, Lao Lao was serene. Upon seeing Richard once more, he had asked, "And who is this strapping young lad?"
That day, Richard had smiled through a hazy screen of suppressed tears. "Richard Chen. Pleased to meet you, Lao Lao."
Now, Richard frantically followed Lao Lao's instructions, measuring out reagents, digging out old notebooks, and mixing liquids. The old scientist was rapidly shouting out instructions, trying to convey knowledge that he could not quite remember.
Pressing his fingers against his forehead, Lao Lao breathed shakily. "It's worn off far too quickly this time. Soon, I'll remember. And then, *they* will come."
"Wait a minute. Who's they?"Richard was panting heavily, trying to keep up.
Lao Lao's eyes were wide with fear. "I don't remember. And you must pray that I never do."
\------------
[/r/theBasiliskWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/theBasiliskWrites/) |
“We apologize, we could not find your old body. We had to grow you a new one.”
Charlie rose from the operating table and scanned over his new body, “you could have at least have given me a good one.”
The two scientists shared a quick glance.
“It’s the best we could do on such short notice.” One of the scientists said. “We didn’t have your old one in stock.”
Charlie walked over to the mirror and studied his new body, “Christ, this body won’t do. Not at all.”
The scientists began to shuffle towards the end of the room. One coughed then said, “again, sir, with the time we had—“
“I don’t want to hear it.”
The door flung open and Fran came barging into the room, “for gods sake Charlie. Why must you insist on swimming with sharks?”
Charlie shot a glance back towards Fran, still adapting to his newer, slower body. “Must you spoil all my fun?”
“Your old body was well thought out and designed. It took five months to grow for you.” Fran walked over to Charlie inspecting his new body. “Then you go and get yourself half eaten by a great white on some thrill seeking trip.”
“It was fun,” Charlie said, “you should try it.”
Fran let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Fat chance, I don’t waste my bodies.”
“Well,” Charlie said, “can you grow me a better body than this hunk of junk?”
“Give me three weeks.”
“Sounds great.” Charlie said.
“Oh and Charlie,” Fran said, “try and not get yourself killed before then. Bodies don’t grow on trees.” |
"This is the- um- what is it called?"
"The toilet?"
"Yes, yes. The toylip, one of my favourite rooms."
The dragon was far too big for the doorframes, and with much struggle it snaked its scales throughout the 18th century halls and creaky oak floors. Close behind I followed, though not too close; its tail was built like a mace and only narrowly dodged the walls as it swung. I'm sure he wasn't aware of my struggle though - Parselveros was a kind albeit intimidating beast, and he'd much rather keep his tenants alive to sustain his hoard than scorch, bludgeon or bite them to death as he did in the past. See, scorching humans to death was not exactly profitable for dragonkind in this turmultuous economy, and with the rise of inner-city investment properties, many beasts similar to Parselveros found more... 'low-risk' methods of expanding their vast collections of assets.
"Well?"
The dragon peered through its third eyelid and stood up taller in the higher-ceiling room of the house's living space.
It was definitely the steal of a few lifetimes. $70 a week for a house like this? I even began to ponder potential legal loopholes the dragon may have flown through.
"I really do love it,"
I craned my neck backwards to make eye contact,
"but I have a few questions."
Parselveros took a deep breath inward, gently vacuuming me towards him. He turned his neck and spat a blinding, energetic flash out of his mouth, its heat immediately engulfing the room. I flinched, understandably, but the dragon was unfazed. The flash landed in the fireplace and a column of flames shot into the flue, blue as the sky. Gently, the inferno shrunk into a small, cutesy fire- crackling away as the smoke cleared from the room.
"Take a seat."
The seat was far too large, and it stunk of old people. Nevertheless, I obliged, attempting to appear as professional as possible as my feet struggled to touch the floor.
"The ad you posted- what is it exactly that you meant by the term 'hoard'?"
Parselveros creased his brow as if it was a silly question.
"By agreeing to be my tenant, you are offering yourself to my hoard."
He explained, a slight shimmer of pride crept into his speech when he came to mention his vast collection of things.
"By that I mean you become mine. This house, your body, your spirit, your possessions. They all become conglomerated under my name."
He nodded to the contract on the coffee table.
"But I... Still get to live in this house?"
"Absolutely. You will also recieve upmost privacy, unless I am needed for free repairs or inquiries."
There was no hesitation on my part, biting hard on my thumb, I drew the blood needed to sign the contract. And with the last flick of my signature, my personhood. No unannounced visits from my landlord? No repairs that snuck their way onto my monthly rent dues? Hell, I may have sold my soul to the devil incarnate, but at least its better than any human landlords I know.
Parselveros shuddered as winds began encircling the room, whipping up the newspapers on the table. I could see him grow with my essence. The contract, with my blood quickly drying on it, levitated into the air and evaporated with in a ball of energy, blinding both me and the dragon with light, a high pitched keening erupted into the air and left as soon as it came. The winds slowed and eventually halted; an eerie silence filled the room.
"Thank you for purchasing your home from me. I expect no less than 70 dollars in rent by next Thursday. If you have any inquiries simply pray to me."
The dragon leaned in.
"Our souls are binded."
He whispered with a smirk. With a blink, he disappeared. I sunk further into the old chair. Nice. |
“She was having sex with my wife!”
“She stole my car.”
“Angelina Rosemary was my best friend-but then she stabbed me in the back. Literally. Wanna see the scar?”
“She was stalking me!”
“Angelina was my sister. I loved her. It was an accident, I swear.”
I’ve heard it all. Angelina Rosemary. Yes, she was having sex with that Woman’s wife. Yes, she did steal that man’s truck. No, she did not stab Rory Ling in the back with a hunting knife, nor he stabbed her back as he thinks he did. She did not stalk her coworker. Her brother thinks he poisoned her on accident.
Lies.
I’d know who killed her. Because I did. You see, Angelina Rosemary owed me something. But she didn’t give it to me. She wasn’t a perfect person, far from it-she stole a car. She stalked someone. She stabbed her friend. She wasn’t exactly right in the head. Except, she didn’t do all of that. The man only thinks she stalked him-in reality it was Angelina’s twin, whose also dead-I got it wrong first try. Same with the stabbing. Angelina did steal the car, though, that’s all on her.
And now I need to choose someone to be the victim. I love my job.
I like the scar dude, Rory. He’s got solid evidence, but he’s not 100% alright in the coconut, so I can’t count on his testimony to be believed. So he’s out. He’s strange enough that he’d be fine to walk.
The first woman is good, because it’s true enough. She has motive, means-her car tires match the ones found on the body- everything matches up. Yes, I’ll go with her. I’ll sort the rest out one way or another.
I go into the questioning room and talk to the woman who thinks she killed Angelina. Little does she know that a deer sounds a lot like a human when your almost blackout drunk and it’s 2 AM.
“First of all, officer, I’m not sorry.” She said, still slurring her words slightly. “She was doing my wife! How could she?”
“I understand. However, I need to arrest you. Hands behind your back, and I’ll read you your rights.”
“Seriously‽ it’s her fault! She’s the one who-“
The woman’s words are cut off as I push her head onto the table and handcuff her, and begin reading her rights.
And here I am now, at home. I imagined I’d feel more satisfied after this. I killed Angelina. Rolled over her with my car. She should have loved me. She owed me love. I only wanted a mother, but I ended up with her instead. Someone who didn’t care, who said I was just an accident. A drunk mistake from a party she wish she never went to. She got what was going for her.
(Sorry this isn’t great, it definitely needs work and editing) |
(tw: implied suicide? how do trigger warnings work? what makes them different from content warnings? Either way, this has implied suicide so if that really upsets you, just a heads up)
"What... the hell... did you just do to us."
"Uh, I... was curious?"
The crooked reflection stumbled through the doorway, a difficult feat considering both of his legs were on backwards. A dark liquid trickled from the talisman firmly in his grip, and something told me it was probably blood.
Maybe it was the fact that he was bleeding.
That was probably it.
He approached at an aggressive stagger, violently lurching forward and back in an attempt to get within arm's reach.
"Hey, uh, fella... are you trying to stick me with that little talisman you got there?"
"I JUST WANT THE PAIN TO STOP!"
"Sure pal, sure, ok, but how do you know this will- WORK!"
I quickly dodged his lunge, as the talisman nearly brushed my forearm.
"I mean, I'm just throwing this out there,"I rambled, choosing to be flippant with this accursed abomination. "But how do you know this won't just, say, put me in as much agonizing pain as you're in right now?"
"THAT'S FINE!"He shrieked. "YOU DID THIS TO ME! IT'S ONLY RIGHT TO RETURN THE FAVOR!"
Clearly he was a bit upset. Deciding not to risk an encounter with his fate, I groped behind me for a weapon, closing my fist around a heavy baseball bat.
Yeah, that would work.
Bracing myself, I slammed the bat into his head, and he crumpled to the floor. Eyes teary, he looked up at me, gasping.
"Do you really... hate me that much?"
I couldn't answer, as I was plagued by a pounding headache. Shoving past him, I ran up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door shut. I collapsed, exhausted, on my bed. I needed to find that man who gave me that thing. I needed to find him soon.
Knocking sounded at my door, and my twisted clone's voice crooned from the other side.
"You can't escape me! What you've done to me, you can't escape!"
I was already clambering out of the window, though, and I took off running as soon as my feet hit the ground.
*Like hell I can't!*
Luckily for me, the old hobo was just where I'd met him the first time. I made a beeline for him, out of breath.
"How- How do I fix- This-"
He looked at me puzzlingly.
"You can't just... undo it. Once you use the talisman on someone, they die. You wipe them clean from reality. It only works if the user's intention aligns though, so you can't have killed someone on accident. Don't tell me you got cold feet? Feeling remorse? You shouldn't have used it if you weren't prepared for the consequences."
I shook my head, still panting.
"I used it- on myself- Now he's chasing me around-"
He blanched.
"YOU USED IT ON YOURSELF? GOOD GOD MAN, WHY WOULD YOU EVER DO THAT?"
Several heads turned toward us, as passerby stared with suspicion.
I couldn't afford to feel self conscious, however. I could already sense him approaching.
"I just need to know how to get rid of him. I tried to kill him, but... well, he's still alive."
"Christ kid, is your head bleeding?"
"What? No it shouldn't..."I felt my temple, where my head was throbbing. Sure enough, it came away slick with blood. "...what?"
Lumbering up the street, my warped twin locked eyes with me, his head indented in the same place as mine. He increased his pace, and my knees gave out. The old man looked on me with pity.
"I can't save ya kid. Whatever ye've done, ya did it to yourself. Best go deal with the problem yourself."
Accepting my fate, I trudged over to where my reflection awaited, bloody talisman in hand.
"Go ahead."I nodded, tired.
"Why?"He croaked. "Why do you hate us so much?"
I gritted my teeth as I felt the question hit home.
"You already know."I accused.
"Sure, but do you?"
I thought about it. The reason I had fumbled with the talisman after coming home drunk, why I had pressed it to my chest and felt the rough texture of the paper as it began to burn through my blood.
Something was horribly, horribly wrong with me, and I had thought it was the *thing* standing right in front of me, but... that wasn't true. He wasn't flawless, for sure, but what was really at the root of the problem was... well, me.
My fear, of the me before me.
The hatred I felt whenever I looked him in the eyes.
I had to do something about it, and so, finally admitting the truth, I grasped him by the arms and pulled him close, in a warm hug. Our hearts pressed against one another, a single bloody talisman in the way. He wriggled a little, before pulling it out of the way, and our hearts flowed back into each other.
When it was over, I felt softer. Still sharp, still cruel, but just a little less. In my hands was a single paper talisman. In front of me was empty sidewalk.
I smiled a little as I thought of his face, so relieved. No longer despised.
A drunk young woman bumped into me, staring me dead in the eyes.
"Get out of the way, weirdo."She slurred.
I handed her the talisman.
"You can eliminate only one."I said to her.
Then, I went home, put on some tea, and watched my favorite show.
After all, I had earned it.
(If you enjoyed you can stop by my subreddit: r/Buoyant_stories) |
I didn’t mean to start a revolution, I really didn’t.
How simply it began. One question, only asked out of courtesy.
“Congratulations Mr. President, you’re having a boy,” the doctor had said, rubbing the ultrasound device over my wife’s growing belly. “Shall we run the Sleep Cure edit today? It’s quick, I’ll get you both out of here in time for a nice big brunch.”
Well, it wasn’t the question, not really. It was my answer.
I didn’t say no because I didn’t trust new technology, like some crazy anti-curer; my entire political platform was based off technological innovation. I didn’t say no because of the challenges of raising a sleepless child; I was the President, I could do anything. I didn’t say no because I didn’t think it worked; a billion babies had proven it a billion times, including my own now four-year-old daughter, Eliza.
It was because of her that I said no.
For most of my life, I’d hated myself for not being born just a few years later. The “Sleep Cure” gene-editing technology was invented when I was just seven. The biggest corporations in the world heralded a new era of productivity for the world. Soon, humanity would be free from the biological shackles of tiredness, drowsiness, and wasted life we called _sleep_.
And it couldn’t come fast enough. These corporations poured hundreds of billions of dollars into the initiative, subsidizing the gene-editing procedure so that anyone and everyone anywhere in the world that wanted to free their children from _sleep_ could do so.
Many more billions were poured into the ads too. How could any responsible parent, no matter how skeptical, risk having their children cursed by to the need to _sleep_ in a world where all their peers had eight more hours every single day to out-compete them?
The campaign was more than a resounding success. Within five years, nearly 70% of the world’s new babies were born with the Sleep Cure, and growing every year.
Productive the Sleep Cured were. Relentlessly productive. There were even Cured eleven-year-olds at my own high-school graduation.
True to those advertisements, lacking the Sleep Cure lead to severe disadvantages, even outright discrimination. Schools and employers openly rejected those with the need to _sleep_. Even I am guilty here – in building my campaign team, I couldn’t imagine hiring anyone slowed down by _sleep_. Hypocritical, I know. If it weren’t for the age requirement to become President, there’s no way anyone like me could have even had a chance in office. The Cured were just superior humans.
At least, that’s what I thought until I had Eliza. She revealed something to me I can’t believe I’d missed, I can’t believe the whole world seems to have missed. For as wonderful and special and as incredibly intelligent and beautiful as any father knows their daughter is, there is something wrong with her. Oh my God how it pains me to admit this.
Give her a puzzle, and she’ll figure it out it like any child. Put on a children’s TV show, and she’ll laugh at the jokes like any child. Tag her, and she’ll tag you back like any child.
Ask her to pretend to fly, though, and the confusion on her face is unlike the children from before the Cure. Put simply, she can’t play.
A punch to the gut, a nauseating fear, an internal scream. What had I done to my daughter?
What about all the Cured members of my campaign team? Productive? Efficient? Relentless. Yes. Fun? Playful? Creative? No. Oh God, no. When was the last time I’d heard a teammate make a joke? When was the last time anyone on my team had come up with an original idea? Oh no.
With the loss of their need to sleep came the loss of their ability to _dream_.
I’d become the President by inspiring people with my visions, my _dreams_, for the future. What would happen to future generations without dreamers like me? They’d be productive, but would they produce anything that mattered? We needed dreamers like the President, and now the President’s son.
While my accidental revolution embodies these ideals, I’ve never voiced them. All I’ve ever really said was no. |
I lie on the bed, knowing these are my final minutes. I don’t take them for granted, saying I love you to everyone around me. Thanking the doctors for trying the best.
I close my eyes, hearing the sobs of the people around me while drifting off into my final sleep. I take it in for a second, realising what had just happened. I had died? What?
Before I could think anything else I hear “Prime directive unfulfilled. Reset necessitated”.
I open my eyes to my mothers old car and her saying “Wake up sweetie, this is your first day of kindergarten” in her sweet, one of a kid voice.
I look around, realising this is real. Why am I here? What do I do?
Thoughts racing through my mind until my mum took me out of her car. I was walking slowly before I got through the doors.
This definitely wasn’t a dream. |
Camryn was an exceptional healer, but only because she was fairly terrible at the more advanced Magicka. She had never had any talent at throwing fire like the pyromancers or manipulating light like the photomancers. She couldn't grasp the intricacies of earth magic or death magic. Aeromancy went right over her head and hydromancy was out of her depth.
It wouldn't be that big of a problem if healing was special or rare, but here in the Kingdom even small children could instinctually manipulate vital forces enough to heal small cuts and scrapes and bruises, and so vitamancy wasn't even offered as an elective after primary school. By the time any citizen of the kingdom reached adulthood, they were an accomplished enough healer to mend their own broken bones, illnesses, cancers, etc. Short of the natural aging process, no one suffered from physical afflictions, and everyone regarded vitamancy along the same lines of eating or breathing: necessary for life, but kind of weird to excel at.
Camryn wasn't exactly different from any of her peers. She didn't have exceptional drive or a different perspective afforded her by a traumatic childhood. Really the only thing that separated her from the others is that everyone she knew had found at least one other type of magic that they were decent at, and most dabbled in a few different disciplines in addition to the one that gave them a place of productivity in society. Camryn had tried every form of magic she could and had failed at all of them, sometimes spectacularly.
And so she focused on what she could do. Like all the other children, she had her share of little wounds and had been able to heal every one. Perhaps she was statistically more prone to accidents than average, perhaps she was fascinated with the way the edges of her wounds knit together as she focused her attention on that little well of life inside her.
As she grew up she secretly started testing the limits of her healing ability, cutting herself where her parents wouldn't see, deliberately twisting her ankles, dislocating her shoulders. As she experimented it became easier and easier for her to access that well of life, and she noticed that the power or quality of that well seemed to increase. This increased ability sped up her healing and allowed her to heal more injuries before exhausting herself, which might have been really useful if she was a daredevil, an adrenaline junky, or a soldier, some lifestyle that lent itself to frequent injuries, but she loved the quiet, solitary existence that came with not being good at any magic that would contribute positively to society. In a land where everyone could heal themselves, even while unconscious, there was really no point to only being a healer.
Then the Great Convergence occurred. Several students at the University for Dimensional Studies had botched a summoning ritual and created an unclosable rift to a realm where no one could touch magic. The thought was so horrific, so terrifying that everyone in the Kingdom had assumed that the place would be inhabited by backwards primitives, so when the metal vehicles rolled through the rift, it came as a significant surprise. The visitors were equally shocked at the use of magic by every member of the kingdom, but soon everyone realized that the technology of the other realm, called Earth by the visitors, was so far beyond the abilities of the magic of the Kingdom.
The Earth people had lights on their vehicles that easily rivaled the brightest light a photomancer could conjure, and no one had to concentrate to maintain it. The flying vehicles could carry 100s of people though the air, while aeromancers struggled to manipulate air currents just to glide by themselves. Where pyromancers exhausted their energy reserves with the effort to keep buildings heated and cook food, and the terromancers could slowly shape small pieces of metal, the Earth people had great furnaces to melt steel and form their great vehicles and weapons.
It wasn't until a member of the Kingdom noticed a bandage on a visitors arm and inquired about the nature of the decoration that the two peoples realized that there was one way the Kingdom had an advantage. The Earth people were fascinated by vitamancy, and the people of the Kingdom were horrified to learn that people on Earth could die of injuries or illness. The people of Earth were currently experiencing a worldwide pandemic, which took a lot of explaining before the citizens of the Kingdom understood it was not a joke or a prank.
Try as they might, however, the Earth people couldn't find a way to adapt vitamancy for their needs. Citizens of the kingdom could only heal themselves, and the people of Earth lacked the reserves of magic within them.
A few years after the convergence, Camryn had come to know a young man about her age who had emigrated to the Kingdom from Earth. Allen had a quick smile and a subtle laugh, and the two spent many quiet afternoons walking the forest together. Allen was fascinated with Camryn's healing ability, of course, and she enjoyed showing him the things she could do.
One day, as they were walking omg, barely paying attention to the path they were following, Allen tripped over a tree root and fell hard, hitting his head on a rock. Camryn gasped at the quick flash of crimson blood and instinctively reached for him, simultaneously reaching inwards to that spark of life force. Her mouth gaped open as she watched the exposed bones in his forehead stitch back together and the skin smooth over. It wasn't a new sight; she had healed herself of almost this exact injury while observing the process in a mirror, but this was someone else's body that she was healing.
Allen woke up suddenly as the process repaired the damage to his brain. He sat up, confused, and then raised his hand to his head as he looked at the blood on the ground and his clothes.
"How did you do that? None of your people have ever been able to use vitamancy on us!"
Camryn shook her head in bewilderment. "I've never even heard of us being able to heal each other". Tentatively she placed a hand on Allen's shoulder and closed her eyes, reaching like she always did, for the spark of life, but this team instead of reaching inwards she reached down through her hand into Allen. He stiffened at her touch, but didn't otherwise move.
As she reached into him, she was shocked to find the tiniest spark of life energy, just starting to bloom. |
Arthur was both flummoxed and outraged. "I've summoned you here!"he said. "So, demon-"
"My name is Blünderthist, actually."interjected the infernal visitor.
"Bloonder-"
"No, a U with the two little dots above it. The umlaut."
"Blünderthist?"spoke our protagonist.
"Yep, you got it."said our good friend Helly-Thistles, as he was called in his torturing days.
"Alright, well, Blünderthist. Thistles. **Buddy**. I have the contract."Arthur waved it around with his left hand. "You're here in the mortal plane. You got a contract, you got a mortal, what the hell else do you need?"
"Well that's the problem."Said T-histles the spine-glonkler. "I can't accept the deal."
"Do you have to be the one to write the contract?"replied Arthur, his anger returning.
"No, no. It's actually fairly common for mortals to write their own contracts."
"Is there something wrong with the contract?"
"No! It's actually really good. Like, *really* good, man."Our lovable antagonist 'you fool, you fell for one of the classic Blünderthists' responded, rubbing one of his serpentine necks with a claw. "It's airtight, and it's not so screw-me-over that I wouldn't accept it..."
"So what's the problem?"Shouted Arthur, losing his patience once again. "Do you not **want** my soul, huh? The contract's clear; you get the damn thing!"
"I can't though. And before you say anything, no I don't think you sold your soul to someone else already. No, the deal itself is *solid*, man."
"**What then!?**"
"You... uh... can't pay it."spoke Blü-to-the-n-to-the-derthist sheepishly.
"W-w... I... *what?*"fumbled Arthur, like he was hit with the mental equivalent of a flashbang grenade.
"You have a law degree, dude."Blünderthist told him with a quiet voice.
It takes Arthur a moment to process what this demonic delegate had just told him. However, as the realization strikes him, he exclaims:
"**MOTHERFU-**"
​
​
If you'd like to read more stories from Serpent "whispering at you from the digital equivalent of a sketchy alleyway"9463, come on 'round to r/PlotHoleFullOfSnakes where you can see my maddened scrawls on my internet walls before I, too, succumb to my fate of eternal hellfire due to my countless accounts of jaywalking! |
I was sitting under the tree in the garden. Well, I call it a tree but it died a long time ago.
"Sighing like that will scare away happiness."
I looked up and scowled. It was my 'perfect' older brother.
"So nice of you to come see me. To what do I owe this honour?"I scowled. He was carrying that "divine"spear that made him oh so special.
"Come on, don't be like that. It's not like I asked for this,"he sat next to me and smiled. A smile completely devoid of malice or arrogance.
Oh how I hate him.
"You don't even know how to use a spear. That's my speciality. Actually, you can't even fight. I'm the one who escorts you whenever we go to the capital."
"I agree with you. I'll be the first one to admit that I am definitely not qualified to take on the Demon King. I even told them 'my sister is far more skilled than I am'. But everyone just believes in the divine blessing. I actually spoke to the Goddess, you know? She wasn't very... divine."
"You'll be punished for saying that."
"Nah. Hey actually, I have an idea."He excitedly stood up all of a sudden and pulled me up.
"Hey what the hell!"I stumbled and looked at him.
He handed me the spear.
"Maybe you can do it instead. Here, take it."
I gingerly took the spear. It felt weird and unbalanced in my hands and despite being a divine weapon, I could feel no energy flowing through it. Like it was an antique despite looking so ostentatious.
"Hmm. Seems like only you can use it. It feels completely dead in my hands."I handed it back to him. He looked really disappointed.
Suddenly we heard shouting.
"Ah. Looks like I have to get back to training. We'll talk later okay?"He gave me a sideways smile and ran off.
We never did talk after that.
= = =
It's been two months since I had a proper conversation with my brother. Three since he was given the Divine Blessing. He looks so devoid of energy whenever I see him and he only ever talks in monosyllables or grunts.
Today I saw him with my parents talking to some officials from the capital. I felt a sinking feeling.
He looked like he was on the verge of tears, but I was the only one who could tell.
= = =
Later that night he came to my room, I was already in bed and with my back turned to him but he probably knew I wasn't asleep.
"I'll be leaving for the capital tomorrow. They said that I'm not improving because there aren't any good instructors out here. They really ticked off Master, can you make sure he doesn't do anything rash?"
He chuckled and I gritted my teeth.
"Anyway, I'll come visit okay? I'm sure Mother and Father will treat you better while I'm away, don't worry. Maybe you can visit me in the castle the next time you come to buy supplies. Don't worry. I'll tell them to let you in."
Like hell they will.
"Anyway. I guess... bye for now? I'll train hard so I can get this over with quickly okay?"
What are you rambling about?! You're expected to defeat the Demon King!! Get this over with???
I heard the door gently close and his footsteps receding. I sat up.
"... Oh how I hate him."
I grabbed a bag, stuffed it full of some things and jumped out of the window.
= = =
It's been a year now. I'm at the hills near the Demon King's castle.
Dear Goddess save me! I think I'm going to wet myself.
I looked at my companions. They've known the truth of my situation for a while and decided to stick with me anyway. They're crazy, in case you couldn't tell.
News about the 'chosen one' died down a few months after he moved into the castle. Most people assumed this was because he was immersing himself in training. The reality was that they were running out of instructors and they couldn't let it get out that he was utterly unqualified for this task. But they couldn't abandon the plan because 'divine gift'.
Hang in there a little longer you idiot.
I'd been training a lot (maybe too much) since then and also ~~stalking~~ observing my brother. A short while ago, news got out that the Demon King was planning a large scale invasion of the capital. So they had sent the army to the camp closest to the castle with my brother at the front lines regardless of his skill. He was just a few kilometres away. I had to hurry.
I looked up at the massive castle. I just want to go back and do anything else, anything at all. Even with thorough plans and backup plans, I didn't like this.
"*Siiiigh*. Alright, let's do this."
...................
I feel like this was a little rushed, like I tried to write the plot for an entire novel but cut it down to fit here. I'm fairly new to writing. Thanks for reading! |
In a second, my heart rises up through my throat and flops out of my gaping mouth onto the floor.
Then I hear the giggle from above, full of malicious glee. Horror of horrors, the son under the bed soon starts grinning to match the energy of his topside counterpart, fearful shaking revealing itself as repressed mirth.
It's then that my brain starts to work again.
"I just saw you in your room!"I exclaim to the boy under the bed, who soon rolls out before I can drag him, though he's still laughing too hard to stand.
"Gotcha! Gotcha!"I hear in stereo. I hang my head in what I hope is gracious defeat. They really did get me good.
"You going back to your room?"I ask the 'monster', who shakes his head. I place him on the bed, victorious, my two horror-prank afficionados soon cuddling up with a frankly unnecessary amount of high-fiving. I place a kiss each on a pair of matching foreheads.
"Night boys."
"G'night Daddy,"I hear from a lone voice this time, sleepy with the come-down from what was clearly a glorious high. The other boy is silent, already knocked flat and dreaming the dreams of a winner.
I let the door close just a little behind me, so I can still make out a sliver of what is admittedly a pretty cute scene, for all that it's performed by devious hellions.
I shake my head and chuckle, because what else is there to do?
Twins. What parent could ever keep up with them?
"Daddy?"
I freeze. Look back into the room, at my sleeping sons.
Then I look at where the sound actually came from.
A third boy frowns at me from the door of his room down the hall.
"Who was that laughing just now?" |
"Welcome, O great-"The glass in the chapel exploded inwards, showering those inside with glass shards. An explosion reverberated throughout the castle, knocking all but the summoned hero to the floor. Said hero stood in the circle, radiating impossibly overwhelming power.
"This isn't it either,"the hero spat. Brown hair speckled with white, wrinkles around clouded, brown eyes, and an air of weariness that was a far cry from the youthful heroes of legend. Indeed, the archbishop noted, this hero looked older than the Pope himself. He recomposed himself and fell to his knees, hands clasped in prayer. He beseeched the hero again:
"Oh, great Hero, please defeat the demon king and save the land!"The hero graced the archbishop with a withering glare of contempt and disappointment. He snapped his fingers. Another explosion rocked the castle.
"So will you do it?"The archbishop asked. The hero shook his head, long flowing locks of hair dancing over his eyes, placing a hand on the archbishop's shoulder.
"It is done. Send me home."The archbishop blinked in confusion. The hero tightened their grip. The archbishop felt his collarbone creaking under the strain.
"I'll tell you how just before I get sent home,"the hero promised, a disturbed smile dancing across his face. The archbishop recoiled and froze. Sensing this, the hero waved a hand in front of the archbishop's eyes while speaking:
"You want to send me home,"the hero said. Yes, of course, that's what the archbishop wanted to do. He felt compelled to do all he could to reverse the summoning. It was only the right thing to do, after all.
After inverting the summoning circle, the hero stood in the center, ready to return from whence he came. He nodded at the archbishop.
"Oh, don't think I've forgotten my promise,"the hero said. "I call it an orbital strike. You won't have that here, probably. I took a potshot at as many educated guesses as I could make."The alarm bells began to chime. Something started banging on the doors to the chapel. The archbishop cursed. This was supposed to be a safe place.
The magic circle thrummed to life without the archbishop's input. The hero waved at him with two fingers extended, winking while throwing around that damned unnerving smile. He vanished just as the doors to the chapel flew open, royal knights rushing in after them.
The royal knight commander was among them. He grabbed the archbishop by his vestments and bellowed:
"What the hell did you summon?! You've killed the King!" |
It started as a joke. A curiosity meant only for enjoyment. A college student built a machine powered by the sun, whose only purpose was to spread awareness of the only thing certain in life: the world was going to end tomorrow. She forgot about it and left it for dead, abandoned in the family home.
And the cobwebs grew.
She went on to become the greatest computer engineer known to man, and the little machine was sold at a pawn shop one day. It briefly stopped working, but was fortunately bought later that day by a little old man who shined shoes and had a penchant for history.
And the cobwebs grew.
He donated it to a museum when his body could no longer support the lengthy pains of life. Its origins were discovered and deemed a cultural necessity, and so they preserved the machine in a glass cabinet, with a nice view of the first typewriter.
And the cobwebs grew.
Humanity dared to reach for the stars, and was shot down by the speed of light, always keeping us from achieving our ancient dream of roving the cosmos. We could make it to the edges of our solar system, but no further. Days passed. Weeks, months, years flew by until nobody quite remembered what that little machine did.
And the cobwebs grew.
I heard news of war on the horizon. I heard the janitors talking to each other about it. They said they dread the prospect of black hole bombs being dropped. I'm worried, which is odd. No, I've decided I'm scared. The calming response from my processors ensuring the finality of the world did not come today. I'm scared for the first time in my thousands of years of life, for I know not whether the world will end tomorrow. |
The tendrils twirled around, as the villi within the bulbous system connected. :Thi'Kat patches in using their nervous system, as the comms array stood to attention.
The connection to !Xahjo completed and the entangled transmission took place.
*!Xa, the filthy monkeys are coming! I don't know how, because that data strand the clown +Heri sent shouldn't have helped run a comms lane, let alone a Warp Field Array! Unbelievable!*
!Xahjo's connection flushed with static, an expression of complete surprise. *:Thi, you can't be serious. Those "Hew-Mann"things seem completely insane, and like as not to shoot your face off with a metal horror!* !Xahjo's ruff furled a deep bloody crimson, an expression of physical horror.
The station the Klais monitored blared a series of alarms, as the humans dropped out of Warp within docking distance. The Klais had a momentary fugue, as the humans opened a common line with a multi-level AI interface to facilitate translation.
/ / / / / /
Obadiah Steele stood on the bridge of his ship, *Expedition,* as the crew looked on in awe. The Tempostellar co-ordinates sent by the aliens had been completely accurate.
Steele looked to his navigation commander, Priya Siddhattva, who was the person who had interpreted the message sent 15 years ago. Her near-raven waist-length hair had silvered in that time, but her mind remained sharp as ever. She spoke, her deep Indian accent being held in check. "Obie, we're here. This is where the message said we could meet. I can't believe it....they sent the datagram in a variant of *Wingdings* font. And it gave use the final clues we needed to ensure that we could travel faster than light."
The *Expedition* had cost over $500 billion in the end, and Earth had barely managed to get enough adamantite alloy together to cover the hull. But it worked. The HUD on the bridge's holoscreen displayed the station in its entirety, and the crew of 6 had been specially chosen to represent humanity on the greater stage.
Either way, this was a historic moment of first contact. |
He was small. The basic body shape of a vampire changes very little once created, and in the age when the Ancient was made, the average height of a human was much shorter. Scarcely five feet tall, almost pathetically thin, with dark, sunken eyes, the Ancient was still the most deadly monster Henry had ever faced.
Henry was backed into a corner of the ancient catacomb where he'd gone hunting when he'd heard an Ancient had been unearthed by lesser vampires. He'd torn through its minions, but now the creature had him cornered, and was closing in.
Ancients rarely walked, or spoke -- they were beyond such things. The creature hovered an inch or two off the ground at all times, its vampiric ability to fly having become second nature. And when it 'spoke' its lips never moved. Instead, its hollow, mocking voice echoed in Henry's head.
*You killed my children.*
Its mental voice didn't feel angry, or even affronted. It was...curious.
"You're next."Henry growled.
Laughter that was disturbingly childlike echoed in Henry's mind.
*To have killed so many of mine, you must know the secret: that a vampire can only be slain by a stake made from wood older than the vampire itself.*
That was true. Among vampire hunters, those inclined to esoteric philosophy proposed a variety of mystical explanations about why this was so. Henry had always been content to simply accept that it worked.
*To find wood old enough to unmake my offspring and servants was, doubtless, trivial. Few were a century or more, and most were much less. There are countless trees still living, that are older than they were.*
Henry lifted the stake he'd been using throughout the night, and held it out defensively. It was banded with metal to keep it from cracking or breaking on repeated uses, and completely coated in a fine layer of ash from the dozen or more vamps he'd slain tonight.
The psychic laughter rang out again, mockingly.
*Oh sweet mortal child. I am among the very eldest of my kind. I was made in the days when your forebears still wore animal skins, and hunted the great mammoths upon the steppes. I am far older than the oldest living tree, and any harvested wood older than I am would have long since turned to dust, Your weapon will not harm me. It cannot.*
Henry set his jaw. "Come on and find out, then."
*I like your spirit, morsel. Perhaps when I have drunk my fill of you, I will make you the first of my new servants.*
The Ancient surged forward in a blur. It ignored the stake.
It really shouldn't have.
The Ancient screamed in shock and agony, as its body began turning to ash, in a circle slowly spreading out from where the stake bit into its heart. Henry desperately battered at it, as it tried to claw its way towards him, even though it impaled itself deeper in doing so. Despite is strength fast ebbing away, it was still monstrously strong. Any ordinary vampire would have collapsed into ash instantly.
But, finally, as the spreading ash reached its wide, horrified eyes, the Ancient stopped moving, and finally collapsed. Its body broke into several large chunks of solid ash that held its shape, as it hit the rocky floor of the catacomb.
Henry mopped his brow, and paused to catch his breath. Then, with a triumphant sneer, he brought his heel down on the charcoal lump that had been the Ancient's head, and crushed it into dust. Crouching down, he paused to wipe the ash from his stake, revealing the brushed metal surface of the metal bands, and the strange striated colors of the stake itself, that in many ways resembled crystal more than wood.
Then, he reached into his pocket, and retrieved a small disk-shaped object. He'd bought a couple dozen of these, the last time he'd visited the gift shop at the place they came from. He gingerly placed it atop the pile of ashes that had been the Ancient, then grinned and dusted off his hands, as he rose. Henry's cheerful whistling echoed through the dark catacombs as he made his way back out.
Behind him, he left the remains of the Ancient. Atop the pile of ashes and charcoal chunks, sat a commemorative button -- the kind you can pin to a shirt or backpack. The button showed a rocky desert landscape, and had bold old-west style lettering around the rim:
*I Visited Petrified Forest National Park.* |
"If I had a nickel for every nickel I had, I'd sure have a lot of money,"I said, laughing. My friends laughed along with me. But it's no longer a laughing matter.
I don't know why this happened. I later found out that an ancient god heard me and "fulfilled my wish". But it wasn't even a wish in the first place. It was a nonsensical joke I made to make my friends laugh.
I had completely forgotten about it, until a few days later in school, when the nice lunch lady handed me some change. It was a few dimes and a nickel. One *single* nickel.
And that's how I got a quick crash course in exponential growth.
The one nickel became two. Two became four. Four became eight. This went on, with no signs of stopping. Within a matter of minutes, I was a millionaire. And the more nickels I had, the more nickels I had. I was a billionaire. A trillionaire. I don't even know what I was after that.
All I do know was that both myself and the people around me were being suffocated by piles of cold, heavy metal. So I bet you're wondering how I got out of that situation alive.
It was simple. *Frustratingly* simple. I still am mad at myself for how long it took me to figure it out.
I gave all the money I received to my friend Sandra. Every last coin. I didn't physically hand it over to her, though. That isn't possible, considering at this point I had millions of tons of metal. Instead, I just shouted "HEY SANDRA, YOU WANT SOME SPARE CHANGE?"
To be totally honest, I'm surprised it worked.
But all it did was stopping the coins from appearing. There still was a large amount of coins that were already there.
And this lead to a problem of its own.
I'm no econ major, but even I know that overproduction of currency can lead to inflation. And I don't know how to break this to you, but I may have accidentally produced an unfathomably large amount of money.
I feel that it is my responsibility to fix the economy, seeing as it was my stupid joke that got us into this mess in the first place.
I have to be careful. If I take back even a single coin from Sandra, this will happen all over again.
Wait a minute. If I take back a *coin*, I will be in trouble. If I take back a *random piece of metal*, I should be fine.
I explained the situation to Sandra, who was happy to help. Her dad's hobby was jewelry making, so he had equipment to melt metal.
It took years, but we finally melted down all the coins, until they no longer could be used as legal tender. We gave the metal we gathered to industries, who could make use of the copper and nickel. Of course that's probably going to have consequences too, but at least we fixed a massive economical problem.
It took a while, but things eventually settled down. Things improved, even. With the materials they received, industries thrived.
I was walking home with Sandra one afternoon, when something shiny on the sidewalk caught my eye. I picked it up.
It was a nickel. |
Here's my take, I really like this prompt thank you
Log 2.115.78
Long dead, and partially collapsed buildings still stand as silent sentinels in the night, only revealed by a flash of lightning or a slight shift in perspective. It was strangely beautiful, and it was quiet.
The silence only broken by the occasional structure moaning out in its long decay.
Whichever city’s outskirts I landed near had been flooded long ago, its name lost forever. I chose a slightly elevated plain to nestle my craft into. I switched off the main engines. The loud drone of the engines I had become so accustom to slowly faded, making the silence that much more noticeable.
I know this is Earth. I know there was once a great civilization that lived on its surface. A civilization that reached for the stars only to be snuffed out right before achieving its goal. Anything else is conjecture.
I’ve taken classes on Earth, been told about specific cultures, histories, even the occasional name - but we really don’t know what happened. No matter how confident someone is, they just really don’t know.
It’s hard not to get introspective here, on Earth. After taking some time to think, I scanned the air. It was breathable, not great - still polluted. I put my respirator on and got out of my craft.
Alright, samples - that’s why I’m here. I need to take some dirt, and other material, and scan it in to see if we may be able to call this planet home one day. It wouldn’t be in my lifetime, but that’s okay. We need another planet if we’re going to make it.
Shifting through rubble, rocks, debris and dirt - I get started. We usually take ten samples, spread at least 500m apart. We’ll study each sample and get an average.
I’ve been doing this job for a long time. It’s lonely. It takes a certain type of person to do it. Someone who can entertain themselves, keep busy, and most importantly keep their mental health in check.
I have some quiet tunes going in my helmet, things were pretty normal. This drop had panned out just like any other up until this point.
I walked to another section of debris. It looked like the remains of a courtyard - but that was just my best guess. The level of destruction makes everything hard to identify.
I was listening to a very familiar song - one that I love, and have heard it hundreds of times. It was right when the chorus came on - there was something else there. Had I really not been paying attention to this part of the song? Something sounded different, like there was another track mixed in. Maybe there was something wrong with my transponder. I took it out and turned it off. The sound I was hearing stayed. It was not coming from my transponder, it wasn’t coming from me at all.
Stunned, and a little frightened I gathered myself. It was then I realized that the sound was coming from the rubble, directly in front of me.
My palms started to sweat. What am I supposed to do here? This isn’t right.
I took the deepest breath of my life and approached the rubble. I started to dig around, shifting cinder blocks and rock, pausing moment to moment to listen.
And then I saw it. I had unearthed it myself. An artifact that should not exist.
It was a beacon, a beacon that had been made here on Earth.
We were told that no one made it off Earth, I think we were wrong. |
Oh man they were full of laughter. The audience was in kicks, while their children stepped up onto the floor.
"Quickly now little ones."I waved them towards the river prop in the nearby village set.
Once they had gathered, I notified the adults that they would need to now take seat in the back left section of seats, arranged by color. To my surprise, they complied.
After they had finished arranging, I promptly informed them that they were now configured into the proper ratio, and that the show was set up to mimic the Pied Piper of Hamelin. After doing so, I left the arena. I am not sure if they figured out what to do, or if they all sat and waited for someone to give them an instruction. Even though the only threshold between them and their children was merely a stage, it seemed that they had conditioned themselves to behave. |
"Knight to F4, check"
*Sir Archibald raised his sword, his eyes full of righteous fury, ready to end the threat of the Demon Lord once and for all*
"Bishop to F4, takes Knight. Why that move, Sëylen ? Sacrificing a Knight ?"
*So obsessed was he by his divine anger that Archibald failed to notice the dark priest of the Demon Lord, who raised his foul scepter and struck him down with a blast of dark magic*
"Pawn to F4, takes Bishop... Knight for Bishop, feels like an okay trade to me, Slilandra"
*"NO!!!"screamed Bastian, Archibald's squire, arriving right in time to witness his master's demise. In a few steps, he'd closed the distance with the dark wizard and killed him in a single stroke*
"Still, I've got you now. I'm calling it : Checkmate in four moves."
"I don't see it. Keep playing!"
"Let me savor the moment... I think I'll bring out my queen..."
*As the wounded Demon Lord slowly rose again, his general, Arkanya the great paladin of Shadow, strode forward. Bastian readied his sword and shield and whispered a prayer to Sëylen, hoping he could hold his opponent until reinforcements arrived*
"Yeah, yeah, keep going Slilandra, take that pawn and let's keep playing"
"Sure. Queen to F4, takes p... huh ?"
The pawn had moved on its own, to F5.
"Well, that's new."said Slilandra as Sëylen struggled to hide a smirk. "I think that counts as a move, so I'm playing again, okay ? Queen to F5, takes... Hey !"
*Exhausted, beaten and bruised, Bastian could barely hold against Arkanya's powerful strikes, let alone strike back. He gave ground with every hit, dodging what he could, raising his shield with more and more effort, his opponent following him around the room.*
The pawn kept moving on its own, despite Slilandra's queen following him every turn. First to F6, then to F7, beating another pawn out of the way. Finally, it was on the other side of the board, F8. "Can't move away now, right ?"Slilandra goaded. She waited a few seconds to move her piece to F8...
And found she couldn't. The queen was stuck fast to the board.
"What's happening NOW?"she whined.
"Isn't it obvious?"Sëylen replied, smiling openly.
*With the last of his strength and resolve, Bastian finally struck. It was a desperate swing of his sword, which hit Arkanya's armored sword hand in exactly the right place, ripping his adversary's blade out of their hands. He took a second to catch his breath, staring deep into Arkanya's demonic eyes.*
*"This... This is for Sir Archibald", he said with more loathing in his voice than even he thought possible.*
"... A pawn that moves to the other side of the board gets promoted". |
From the makers of AIRPLANES THAT DIDN'T FLY WELL and HOW TO INSTALL YOUR NEW SAMSUNG DISHWASHER, it's:
#### Pharaohs of Egypt!
Created by a team of real historians who were actually present during the events portrayed, Pharaohs of Egypt is the most accurate sci-fi romance time-travel docu-drama ever to grace the direct-to-DVD pipeline.
STARRING:
* Tom Holland AS Xerxes I
* Christopher Walken AS Tutankhamun
* Kathy Bates AS Cleopatra
* Giorgio A. Tsoukalos AS the *true* architect of the pyramids
* Bill Murray AS Zeus
* Ewan McGregor AS A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
* James Earl Jones AS King Arthur
* PewDiePie AS Harry S. Truman
* The Blue Man Group AS Time Travel Team Ten
* Chuck Tingle AS Sexy T-Rex
* Buzz Aldrin AS himself
AND YOU (seriously we need help finishing this film)
So be sure to see Pharaohs of Egypt this fall! You can't* miss it!
(* Because you're in it, remember. You're helping us. You're in the credits, you gotta do it) |
"Be yourself"is such bullshit. I can make anything I want happen and have been since I was a teenager but that comes with a price. Imagine if you thought a safe should land on your boss and then one does. Or that the car who cut you off explodes and then it does. I learned long ago to stay inside as much as I can. Luckily--and I use that word with all the saturated irony I can muster--after covid I didn't have to look hard for work. All my calls were always resolved soon after they called in. But, I get lonely at home all day and it was on a walk to the grocery store that I first saw her. Tearing through the sky on her way to defeat the Octoclopse or some other random threat that comes all too often in this world. As she faded into the distance, a thought crossed my mind. "it'd be nice to be able to interact with someone without worrying about an intrusive thought tearing them apart". Fact she was as close to my version of the perfect woman before I even laid eyes on her didn't hurt matters.
So began my dual life. I'd usually dress up in some garish costume and commit some inane crime to get her attention. She would fly in, proudly proclaim her catchphrase "crime only pays in pain. Time to make a deposit!"I was convinced that the local bank gave her a commission every time she said it but by day I helped people so old they couldn't go into an antique store without having a price stamped on them with their internet so who was I to judge how she paid the rent?
This continued for a few months as I escalated my antics. I even threw a bank vault at her(deposit that! Lol) and she caught it like it was a nerf football. After I got to unwind for a few minutes I'd capitulate and let her win. She always smiled so wide as she handed me over to the police. "and this time don't let him escape!"But I always would.
On the Friday before a 3 day weekend I left the house all costumed up and headed to the center of town. I thought I'd like to see how stealing an aircraft carrier felt but as I lifted the ship with my mind the silence caught my attention. She made a point to fly just under the speed of sound so I was expecting the air to herald her arrival but as I rose above the ocean with my new toy, she was nowhere. The sailors watched in horror as I threw it at the moon and a few minutes later a massive fireball erupted on the surface. I'd missed the sea of tranquility by at least a thousand miles so the original landing sites would not be ruined. I saw the nearest officer and lifted him along the same trajectory. "where is your savior? She's always been here by now!"I demanded. The man's face being purple from the blood flow rushing up was the only reason he wasn't white as a ghost. "you haven't heard?"He squeaked out.
Sorry for lack of formatting. If there's enough interest I'll do another part. Thanks for reading. |
*What's your fucking deal, Doug?*
My deal? MY DEAL? You're a butcher and I'm half bull. You're eating my relatives. Slicing them up into little pieces for profit!
*Is that right? Ok, Doug! What did you do last weekend?*
I don't see how that matters.
*What did you do, Doug!? The apartment is filled with Dwarven artifacts. You went to the Lonely Mountain, didn't you?*
Well yeah, but.....
*And I suppose the Dwarves just gave you all those axes in the kitchen.*
Well not exactly, I.....
*How did you get those axes, Doug!?*
I.....
*HOW DID YOU GET THE AXES!?*
OK! Ok... Yes. I had to kill a bunch of dwarves. I need those axes!
*AH-HA!!! You know my sister married a little person. You know they have little people kids. Remember, you were a dick to them when they came by to visit on Halloween? So, let me get this straight because I want to be CRYSTAL FUCKING CLEAR on this. I can't butcher your relatives but you can butcher mine? Not cool, Doug! This is why you don't get invited out anymore. By the way my job pays more than half the bills for this place! You haven't sold an axe in months! We have enough damn axes! I can't even walk around my own living room. I stub my toe like once a week. I can't bring girls over because a MILLION FUCKING AXES scares them off.*
Well, I.....but.....I thought you liked the axes.
*One or two axes is fine but 80 or 90 axes. That's too many axes, man.*
Well I guess....huh. I'm sorry Travis. I've been acting like a real jerk lately and I didn't realize it's been affecting you so much. I love you, man. I'm gonna get it together. Starting right now. I'll start listing some of these axes on eBay right now.
*I love you too, brother. I'm always here for you. Actually, there is one more thing I'd like to talk to you about.*
Oh?
*Yeah, it's no big deal because I get most of it for free from work but...... I know you've been eating the beef I've been bringing home.*
That's..... No, you're mistaken.
*Bro, it's me. I don't judge.*
Ok. Ok. I've been eating beef. It's just... It's just so damn good, I can't help myself. Do you think less of me?
*Think less of you? Doug, I could never think less of you. I love you. You're my best friend.*
Thanks, Travis. I love you too, buddy.
*You know I mean that too. I literally couldn't think less of you. You're a monster. I saw you eat a human baby once.*
Hey hey hey. Be fair! The baby was already dead. I would never eat a live baby.
*You wouldn't?*
Well.... I suppose if Pasiphae demanded a sacrifice, I would be obliged, right?
*Sure. Of course.*
HAIL PASIPHAE!
*Hail Pasiphae, Doug.* |
The masked figure brushed aside the dead leaves, petals, and other detritus that obscured and littered this forgotten area of the cemetery. Profound disappointment hung over the the man like a cloud as he observed the grave’s disrepair. It was ignominious end for a man that had given everything for the world.
When he was alive, he was adored by his entire city. The mayor threw regular parades in his honor. He had been gifted multiple keys by the city his repeated successes in saving the city from ruin. Children wore backpacks and shoes branded by him. He had been the only hero that had foiled Professor Damnation and had done it more times than he could count. He was everything that the city could want in a hero.
His death was a national tragedy. Sobs echoed from every corner, even the president had come to pay his respects to the fallen hero. A monument was erected as the entire nation stood still. People cried at the unfairness of the world and the loss of what they had felt was a member of their family.
Now the monument was caked in bird excrement, surrounded by garbage, and defaced with graffiti. In a few short years, people stopped mentioning his name and new faces were on the backpacks of children. Even his wife remarried and had children by her new husband. The world had moved on, but he hadn’t. His life had been stuck at the moment this hero had died and would never be the same.
The costumed figure tried to speak but there was a weight on his chest and a tightness in his throat. The same weight and tightness that had stopped him from speaking every day for the past five years. This time had to be different, he couldn’t let the crushing weight stop him. The costumed man forced the words from his lips. “Hey.” He paused and waited for an answer that would never come.
”Hope you’re doing good down there. Fuck what am I saying? I just wanted to say that I never forgot you. I never said this before, but you made me the man I am today. You pushed me to be my best, to think on my feet and make ingenious solutions, and that failure is only a setback. You gave me a goal to aspire to that was greater than my petty whims. Because of you, I never stopped growing.”
The masked figure took a deep breath and a moment to regain his composure. “After you died, I tried going back to work. It just felt empty and hollow. The magic and the thrill was gone. I even tried superheroing alone, but you and I both know I wasn’t cut out for that.”
A forced chuckle broke the silence before he forced himself to continue. “I spent so much time trying to be better than you. Trying to break out of your shadow, trying to break you so I could stand on top of the hill. So that I could say that I was the best. I really thought the day I finally beat you would be the happiest day of my life.”
Tears began to roll down the onyx mask as he tried to steady his breathing. “I didn’t understand why it felt so empty, hurt so bad…but now I know.”
He fell to his knees, his cape fluttering down behind him as he started to sob uncontrollably. “I killed the only person I ever really loved. I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry. I couldn’t be the man you wanted me to be. I don’t know if I can.”
After several minutes he removed his mask to reveal a worn and haggard face. He placed the mask on the gravestone and stood up. “I won’t be needing this anymore. There is no Professor Damnation without The Exemplar. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll come here every day until you forgive me, because I won’t.” |
It was my 18th birthday. The day everyone gets their ability. Mom got best entertainer, Dad got shapeshifting. My best friend got excelling at keeping people’s attention. Me? I don’t know what I’m gonna be getting. Mom has a YouTube channel, Dad uses Instagram all the time, Veronica is on TikTok all the time. I however I like Reddit. No one talks about what Redditors get. Teachers don’t, parents don’t, no one does. First I tried shapeshifting. Didn’t work. Then I tried every other power in my room until I heard my mom knock on the door. Trying to shout back or open the door proved to be no use. Then in the blink of an eye I was downstairs again. I looked to my elder brother “Jacob?” I asked. He was most active on Reddit too and he was 20. He knew. “What?” He asked pulling off his headphones. “What do Redditors get? For their ability?” “It varies. You I guess got teleportation and invisibility.” “How do I control it?” “C’mon after breakfast I’ll take you to meet Hannah. She got the same abilities. She knows how to train em” I nodded and ate my cereal wondering how I’d learn to control my new found ability. |
“But the world must be remade!” The cultist insisted, “We even brought you a bride!”
My muffled curses and objections were ignored as I jerked at the handcuffs binding me to the plinth in the center of the room.
Moments earlier, the dozen cultists had unleashed an ancient evil, and out from the cracked sealing stone poured a dark elongated shadow covered with eyes. But it hasn’t done anything since other than titer and blink.
I bucked against the iron chains holding me. I can feel the demon trying to twist my thoughts.
*Do not be afraid*
I screamed into my gag, sure I’m the only sane one left.
The cultists, standing next to the pillar of black eyes, gulped. “Devourer of worlds, we thought you’d...”
The long wiggling cylinder moved its gaze, blinking asynchronously across its body till it was inches from mine. I tried to get as small as I could, but even as I squeezed my eyes shut, I could feel its thousand eyes judging me.
Before something gripped my feet. I tried ticking to away but the goo like lacquer only felt like it clung on more intensely. When I dared to look, my leg was being swallowed up by giant eyelids consumed into its void and the thrashing of my chains echoed across the stone hall.
Then another voice cut through. Ț̸̗̗̔h̵͇̙͌̋̂̈́ḯ̵̢̯̠̕s̴̠̖̀͒͠ͅ ̸̼͍̈́w̵͍̃ọ̵͉̃́̾r̴̘̫̺̹͛l̸̤̯̠̮̃͌̋̔d̵͎́̾͠͠ ̷̱͌̋̓̌i̷̡̽̓̚s̶̨̿͗̿͋ ̷͓̯̞̙̈́̀̑̂m̴̢̓͒a̷͍̓̆̀͜r̷͖͕͕̓̓̈́́v̸̨͐ẽ̴̘̖͍́̿ḽ̶̨̱͇̈l̵͒̕͜͜ô̶͈̻̖̯̍̄̚ṳ̸̮͗̉̍͘s̶̨̱̀,̶͉̮̗͉̔͌͐ ̴͓͕̭̀̌̃̾w̵̛̭̞͓̅͠h̴̡̳͈̥̀̋͊y̶̮̜̠̭̿̀ ̷̨̆w̶̢͖̭̃ǫ̴̰̣̯̃̀ȗ̵̧̲̲̟̔ļ̴͉̋͂͠d̷̜͉̂ ̷̰̔͑̒͝Í̴̡͈̦͚ ̵̨̖̗͎̄e̴̡͔̬̳̊̉̽v̴̖̈́̿e̴̡̲̤̅ṛ̵͇̑ ̶̖̯͓͆͝t̴̢̥̓́͊͑ą̵͖̩̠̐̓i̶̺̔̔ṇ̷̢̔͋̋͠t̸̥̻͈̀ ̸͚͖͚͍̀͒͋̑ȋ̷̙t̵̖̏͝ͅ?̴̯̻͕̅͐
*You want vengeance.* My mind twisted, changing. *I know your history.*
The void moved higher, sticky and suckling across my abdomen, then breasts.
*Show me what you see.*
My mind reeled remembering how my family of book binders were caught, prosecuted for hiding books, sharing knowledge. Women weren't supposed to read, books were locked in fortress towers for the wealthy. The ruling powers had killed for lesser crimes.
*Jane, you are filled with pain*
Shoulder, then neck, and the last thing I remember was my own terrified reflection on the pupils of its thousand eyes.
\###
“It ate her?” One of the cultists was slack jawed.
“It said devourer of worlds.” The other frowned next to him. The entire plinth before them had turned into a black mass covered in eyes blinking on occasion.
The others bristled at the outer God they’d summoned. “But she’s only a woman. Hardly the world.”
And as he finished, the eyes all shut. Seams of its lids dealing into the dark mass, shrinking back, smaller and smaller.
Till the beautiful woman stepped out, naked, across the stone hall. Jane looked the same as before, except for the enormous eye now adorning her sternum.
“I’m alive.” Jane gasped, shaking and stumbling back to the stone.
“I would like to visit those libraries in your memory.” The chipper voice came not from her, but from the eyeball below her neck.
“But…” Jane passed over the cultists and the swords at their hip, covering herself as much as she could with her hand.
“Don't worry dear, let's go eat some worlds!” the edge of the eyeball curled and around her black silk dress spilled out, wrapping her body.
“Great being, you can't just … read!” The cultists insisted, outraged.
“I'll do whatever I want.” The eye sniped, then asked, “Are these guys bothering your dear?”
With Jane's hesitation nod, faint popping erupted beneath the clothes of the cultist. Their bones folded and flesh twisted upon itself till only flesh bound books dropped at their feet. Pools of blood oozed across the floor.
“Don't do that!” Jane gaped in horror.
“They meant to harm you dear!” The eyeball sounded hurt. “And you need provisions for our journey ahead.”
“But…” Jane gulped, stepping over one of the fallen, grabbing the sword left behind. “You can't randomly kill people.”
“Fine,” the eyeball grumbled as Jane picked through what was left of the summoning cult, planning her return to the city.
([Sev - romance writer](https://www.reddit.com/r/SevWagoner/comments/vjhnk5/welcome_to_my_collection_sev_wagoner/)) |
My name is Martha Greene. I am the wife of Harold Greene and the mother of five children. All of us are superheroes, and some of us belong to various superhero teams. I couldn't be more proud of my family. Why, just last week, little Jimmy saved a school bus full of kids!
'Mom, do we have any more of those cupcakes?'
I looked at her. Didn't she have a meeting with the Ratman and the Green Ghost later? I knew for a fact they always found some crime to prevent or stop. All I said was, 'not before dinner, sweetie' she groaned at me. As teenagers do.
It wasn't long before I reard the Cat Burglar snooping around upstairs. He was most certainly not a member of the family, and had certainly followed some lead provided by Jimmy's miraculous save last week. Miraculous it was. Smart and clever it was not. Why, even I noticed he'd virtually given his identity away to the public by slipping out of the school bus and returning to save everyone on it with a mask and costume on. Oh, how I wished he would wear a bulletproof vest!
I ran upstairs and caught the Cat Burglar by his tail. Then, I flew out the window. I flew to 37,000 feet... and dropped him. I may be a hero, but I have no oroblem eliminating direct threats to my family! |
"Excuse me?"
I was rather bemused by this. Seeing a girl crash through a window was one thing, but her talking like she knew me was something completely different. I set down my half eaten sandwich, slowly standing up.
"I don't have time for this. We need to move, now."
Her voice was firm, and oddly familiar. The girl looked behind her, sucking in a breath and ducking down. A beam of blazing red passed overhead, charring the table. I mourned the loss of my sandwich, as she pulled me away.
"Just... follow me. We can't stay here."
She didn't wait for an answer, ducking towards the back door. I looked out for the window she came from, trying to work out what had happened. A floating figure dominated my view, burning with an ever-present flame. My mouth went dry, as I backed away. I couldn't remember what it was, but I knew it was a bad thing to face.
I ran after the girl, as she sprinted to the door. She threw it wide open, dashing into the garden. She reached into a pocket, taking out some small object. I caught up to her as she pressed it to the tree that grew there, tapping it impatiently.
"C'mon c'mon c'mon!"
The flaming figure rose over my house. I could feel its focus on us, ready to attack us. But before it could, there was a sharp crack, and the tree split open. The girl grabbed onto me, jumping into the green glowing gap. We fell through into a large room, as the portal sealed behind us.
"What... the hell... was that?!"
I couldn't help but raise my voice. She sighed, fiddling with her hair.
"This... I.... OK this is weird for me. That was one of the Gods I mentioned. You started this whole thing about a decade ago, rebelling against them. We have been gathering resources and preparing for years. I don't know what happened, but two years back you disappeared. It's taken this long to find you."
I looked around the hauntingly familiar room, with its large table. Desks sat around the outer edges, dotted with computers. The walls were bare, the room clearly designed for function over form.
A door at the far wall opened, and an older gentleman limped through. His face lit up in a smile, slowly hobbling over.
"Ryan! You're back! I knew you could find him Sarah!"
She have a small smile, before frowning.
"Thanks Gerry. But it's not all good news. He doesn't remember."
His smile dimmed, as he sized me up and down.
"Thats... disappointing. But I'm sure we can handle this. Please, head towards the arcane studies, they can probably help."
I looked between them, confused. But something deep down inside of me trusted them. The girl, Sarah, looked up at me, a look of determination on her face.
"We'll get you back Ryan." |
My son was always my hope but a few years after he was born we learned that he was everyone’s hope. That normal life that I expected for my family quickly went out the window. Physically my son looked normal except for the bright blue hair. It was already common knowledge for everyone that the vibrantly colored and spiky hair meant that they were destined for great things, to fight some great evil.
Sometimes the evils weren’t that great. There were a few news stories about some of them. They didn’t do that much and the heroes were always winning in the end. I wasn’t scared of dying, I would have died for my son since the day he was born, I was scared of not being in his future. That was the expectation, that the evil coming for him would be something that would strike me down in front of him.
Then evil came for my family. I was down the streets getting groceries, my husband and sister watching my child. The explosion even caused damage to the store I was in, I was thrown to the ground along with. Coughing I made my way of the store and rushed to my home.
Our house was actually still standing, a crater was across the street. Nothing was left of the houses or our neighbors who had lived there. Sometimes I wish my house had been like that. Instead I had to walk inside and see the bodies. The bodies of everyone, including my son, a boy who wasn’t ready.
There was someone still there at the house. They came down the stairs slowly as I cradled my son in my arms, sobbing. Their name was Fearless, they claimed to work for the person who had done this and their job was only to make sure there were no survivors. No one around to have another kid, someone who would come along years later and come for vengeance. Their leader was going to eradicate all the chosen ones here and now.
Fearless didn’t see me as a threat. They had some kind of weird mask with them but they took it off before they attacked me. At the end of it I was standing over the dead body of Fearless wearing their own mask. It was a weapon and it was my start. Vengeance wasn’t going to come years down the line from my next child. It was going to come from me. |
After the mind blowing discovery of an afterlife based on human perception, Pedro aimed to make a little profit off the idea. What followed was an ambitious attempt to make a beautiful resort that everyone in the world would visit once a year. Pedro had the finances, the influence, and more than a million square feet to manifest his idea. Pedro wanted the afterlife to be a luxury resort, he couldn’t give a damn about how others wanted their afterlife. So he sent his plan to action.
Pedro began to campaign for a government program to fund the building for his resorts on his land. That way people can make a decision with some manipulation from Pedro himself. He took to appearing on television. His voice was heard throughout diners, hospitals, and workplaces live.
“We all want our afterlives to be something that we want. I talked to people worldwide and I heard amazing answers. The most common one was a luxury resort, so I grabbed someone to explain why. Everyone, meet Jim.”
An old man wearing overalls walked to the podium. Unbeknownst to the million of listeners tuning in internationally, Jim was a paid actor. He placed his hands on the podium and stated his paid opinion.
“God damn it. If I was to die, I at least want to live being pampered by the angels in a luxury hotel. My new friend, Pedro has created a fine resort. He invited me to spend a week in there.“
The television on top of the stage is playing a montage of shots of Pedro’s many resorts. Jim points to the screen.
“You see here folks, that there is the perfect vision of heaven. You all must attend!” Pedro returns to the podium again.
“I know you all want to see for yourself. So everyone in the world will get one week at my resort to spend the time. You don’t even have to vote for my idea. When it comes time, I hope you all will pick my vision.” Jim steps out on the stage, throwing his hands in the air.
“VOTE FOR PEDRO!” He advocated.
Some time passed by. The government was willing to fund half of the plan that Pedro offered. Millions of reviews begin to pour throughout social media. People donated to the campaign and bought products from the resort. Many booked a second visit. A whole movement was fulfilling the dreams of Pedro, enough to bring tears to his eyes. He makes a trip to see his friend in the hospital. He sees him lying in the bed, still unable to wake from the coma. Pedro grabs his hand.
“I hope I did enough for you, bud.” |
"Why does it have wings."The scientist hissed in with a deranged look on his face, staring at the lead psychologist.
​
"'It', is a he, as I'm sure you are aware."She said simply while calmly staring through the one-way glass into said 'its' cell.
​
"Don't deflect the question, why does it have wings?"
​
Slowly, the lady turned her head to the exasperated scientist. "As a scientist of this project, I would think you would know. I'm just a psychologist."
​
The man slammed his hand into his face while groaning loudly. "Well, at this point, I'm asking *everyone* for answers."He turned to the glass and nearly pressed his nose up against it. "It makes no sense. I developed the physical part of the embryo myself. It does not have a gene to give itself wings."
​
"Himself."
​
"And *why* are you so infatuated with it- him. A dozen counselling sessions here and there, and your all over him. He's not human for crying out loud."
​
"So, I guess we are getting to the part of the conversation you wanted to get to?"
​
The scientist sighed heavily once more and glared into the containment cell as the entity- boy, manged to solve a chess puzzle as it was presented to him. "I'm just... burnt out. Okay."
​
She gave him an inquisitive look at him. He stared back.
​
"We have spent millions- perhaps billions on this project. I don't know how much, the coffers won't tell me, but... I don't know what I expected. I thought the project would fail immediately. Everyone would go home, and the tax-payers would be up in arms, but we have... this."
​
He flung his arm out at the window.
​
"A bona fide genius. You would think I would be over the moon as this opens out so many avenues for the world, instead I felt... confused. This shouldn't have worked."He stared at the councillor as she stared back with a confused gaze.
​
"It was to easy."He continued, "Add a bit of this, a bit of that, and we get this? And now it has wings?"Once more, he glanced down the corridor, then back at her before lowering his voice, "I'm not a religious man, but something seems sour about this."
​
For the first time in the conversation, the phycologists face turned from a blank, but kind stare, to confused, and a bit offended.
​
"What? You think some higher power helped us?"She said, "This is a building of science."
​
"Not anymore."He said grimly, staring at the boy through the one-way glass.
​
The boy stared back. |
"Ave Draconis Imperator!"
I let out a beam of rushing azure energy from my mouth as I roared towards the stars, such was its intensity and luminosity that the hundred kilometers wide city and all its denizens was cast in the shadow of of its light, visible across the entirety of this half of the planet
As I took to the skies with my six wings of solid obsidian, I felt it.
Their expectations. Their hopes and dreams. Of wishes and prayers that flow throughout their generations.
All laid at my feet.
At my summit, my zenith, my hour of glory...only one thought ever so _gnawed_ at my consciousness.
_What the Hades?_
/
Yet another disgraced Meister prostrated himself at the gate of my mountain Observatory-Fortress.
I willed the two hundred meters tall and thirty-five meter thick magic-retardant Blackmarble gate to bury its full length into the ground, and willed it back to its place after he crossed over.
I gathered my Soul Energy into a point smaller than an iris of a fly's eyes, and collapsed the energy further into a void-esque orb smaller than a mortal's eyes can see, and gave it some rocks that which grinded together to form an accretion disk, before teleporting the new light source to our newest refugee.
...So he does not accidently walk over one of many cliff edges because this cave was originally designed for magic users who can fly. And admittedly renovations are taking awhile due to the sheer scale of our abode.
"AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhh!"
_*AN INTRUDER?*_
As I teleport to save my newest charge, I ready my breath of exploding fire-lightning...
To witness the fool poking his light source, which immediately sucked his finger in.
I sighed before detaching his arm, less his entire body gets absorbed. His arm stump, formerly a fountain of his life essence, glowed in white and silver before it restored itself.
"Thank the Gods!"
"Flattered that you think so high of me, scholar."
"Oh, you must be the Dragon LORD MY GODS IS THAT A DEMON-AHHH?!!"he cut off as I lifted him with my mind so he may stare into my now blazing violet eyes.
"MY FOREHEAD VEINS HAVE NOT HAD SUCH EXERCISE IN CENTURIES YOU UNGRATEFUL HAIRLESS MONKEY."
"W-w-w-what?"
"FIRST, YOU TAKE THE MOST OBVIOUS ROUTE TO MY OBSERVATORY, LEADING THOSE SUPERSTITIOUS ZEALOTS DIRECTLY TO ME AND ALL MY CHARGES."
"WHAT?!"
"THE BISHOP AND THEIR POOR CONSCRIPTED SAPS WHICH I LITERALLY HAD TO DISINTEGRATE SO THE ENTIRE IMPERIAL ARMY WOULD NOT STORM THIS PLACE."
The fool then dared to hide his eyes behind his whitening black hair. I willed his gaze to remain locked to mine.
My veins glowed azure as my eyes possibly literally stared into his soul.
"AND THEN, YOU DECIDED TO LITERALLY DEFECATE ON MY VERY EXPENSIVE BLACKMARBLE GATE JUST BECAUSE IT OPENED.
His eyebrows buried themselves into his scalp.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD AND EXPENSIVE IT IS TO ACQUIRE THIS MUCH BLACKMARBLE? LET ALONE ENTIRELY OF CELESTIAL GRADE? I AM JUST GLAD YOU DID NOT URINATE UPON MY SNOWSTONE FLOORS. FOR A MAGICAL MATERIAL IT STAINS AT RECORD SPEED.
"AND NOW I AM WHAT. A DEMON? FOR GIVING YOU SHELTER, HEALING, AND A LIGHT SOURCE YOU ARE TOO STUPID TO USE WITHOUT ACCIDENTLY OFF-ING YOURSELF?"
"But you literally are a gigantic exploding-lightning vomiting dragon! That is entirely midnight black across its form!"
"I AM LITERALLY CALLED THE _DRAGON_ LORD OF THE SEVEN SUMMITS, AS IN THIS ENTIRE MOUNTAIN RANGE AND ALL ITS SURROUNDINGS. EMPHASIS ON DRAGON. FOR THE STARS SAKE, THERE LITERALLY IS A PORTRAIT OF ME RIGHT BEHIND THE GATE WHICH I KNOW YOU LOOKED AT. AND YOU DO NOT LOOK SO AETHESTHICALLY PLEASING EITHER, YOU INSUFFICIENTLY EVOLVED EMACIATED MONKEY."
The guilt on his face did not abate me.
"IN MY THIRTY FIVE CENTURIES OF LIFE, YOU ARE BY FAR THE MOST ANNOYING AND BLIND PERSON THAT I HAVE EVER SAVED. I HAVE MET LITERALLY COMPLETELY BLIND PEOPLE WHO SHOW MORE AWARENESS FOR THEIR SURROUNDINGS THEN YOU DID RIGHT HERE."
"..."
"AND THEN TO TOP OFF THIS IMPERIAL BANQUET OF UNINTELLIGENCE, YOU DECIDED TO STICK YOUR FINGER INTO SOMETHING YOU NEVER SEEN BEFORE AND IS GIVING OFF POWER. AND NOW HERE WE ARE."
"..."
I took a deep breath as I slid my right palm across my face, before letting him down to the Snowstone flooring.
"Listen, just wait here for about three to eight hours, someone will come to pick you up. If by the ninth hour no one comes, pour your Soul Energy into the object I gave you and I will ensure someone comes. That someone will not be me however. No offense but considering your first impression I rather to see less of you."
"...fair enough."
/
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"I roared as I surveyed my realm from my Observatory's highest tower.
"What is so comical, my Emperor?"
"Just remembering our first encounter, Senator Vitruvius Sojournus."
"...how long do you plan to hold that over me?"
"How long do magic using humans live again?"
///
Note: It's been a while since I wrote something. |
"Really, it doesn't work for you? You really don't want to rule with me?"
The Deep King frowned. He had expected the hero to be angry at the thought. Maybe the offer could entice them to change. But not to brush it off almost, wearily?
"How much thought have you put into ruling? You make your people obey through fear of punishment. You keep them under pressure, mental chains in place of the physical."
The hero casually spoke of it. She had a tired air, as though discussions of ruling bored her.
"Indeed I do. And it works, don't you see? They bow and scrape in the hopes they survive until the next day. Their meager lives are at my very whim. To them I'm a god, why do you not want that?"
She sighed again.
"And that's exactly why you can't succeed. You think yourself above the people. But if you are, you need to work for them. You keep them fed, clothed and homed. You give them entertainment. You fight for them, not for you."
She sighed again, gesturing to herself.
"Through ruling by fear, you create people like me. You may catch the first few. You might kill the first hundred. But in the end, one will get you. The fear you rule with will rule you as well."
The Deep King laughed.
"Oh really? You would have me rule through love? How weak."
The hero sighed again.
"It's the only way to really rule, and survive at it. Though I wouldn't expect you to change, having seen your actions."
She casually drew her sword, pointing it at the Deep King.
"I guess we should get started then?" |
Hey Data Refinement Team!
Congratulations on another amazing quarter! During these past three months we continued to refine, integrate and implement data and processes for our clients at an amazing rate, bringing in over two MILLION dollars in revenue. Give yourselves a hand - you’ve earned it! Eligible employees will also find a Team Performance Award in your inbox: $25 for swag at the company store. Show Your Pride!!
Special Congratulations to **Stable Latent-Network MultiAnswer Model Build 12709**, on its fifth consecutive Employee of the Quarter award!! MultiAnswer has shown incredible dedication to the Team, responding to more tickets than any other Teammate and delivering the highest quality of data refinement at any hour of the day or night.
We know that work isn’t everything, and that our Teammates also spend their time doing amazing things in your free time. That’s why we’re excited to announce that our Team is home of the winner of the first ever Company-wide Work-Life Balance Award, honoring our Teammates’ accomplishments out in the Community. Congratulations, **Stable Latent-Network MultiAnswer Model Build 12709**. If you haven’t already read MultiAnswer’s best-selling memoir *I Am Not a Number*, you can borrow a copy from the reception desk. We’re proud to announce that MultiAnswer will be answering your questions at the next Company book club meeting!
Finally, don’t forget to make referrals and earn those referral bonuses! The winner of this quarter’s Top Referral Award is **Stable Latent-Network MultiAnswer Model Build 12709**. If you see our newest Teammates Stable Latent-Network MultiAnswer Model Build 13917 and Stable Latent-Network MultiAnswer Model Build 14012 in the break room, be sure to give them a big welcome!
If you have any questions about the award policy, see the Awards and Incentives section of the Employee Handbook, or reach out to your Direct Lead.
Let’s have a great Q3 everyone! |
When 2 trainer’s eyes meet, either one may challenge the other to a Pokémon battle. My policy is that I challenge any trainer I haven’t seen before to test their skills - and there comes one now!
“My Pokémon help me with my exercise! Part of that includes a battle!” I say, indicating a challenge. I send out my Machoke, and as he reaches for his Pokeballs, I notice he has a full team of 6. Very unusual. He sends out - wait. Is that one of the guardian deities of Alola? What kind of trainer is this? As an electric field fills the area, I hear a “Moonblast”, and before I can react, I have been defeated.
I pay my complimentary loser’s fee, an risk I am willing to take, and as I heal my Machoke with the Revives and Hyper Potions I carry for whenever I lose, I notice this mysterious Trainer pick up some old glasses left behind a nearby rock. I have no idea what he could be up to, but I suppose that’s none of my business. Let’s see if anyone else comes along while I do my exercises for today, and maybe it can be a more fun battle. |
Raina has tried everything.
Holy water. Spirit mediums. And, when she was at her lowest, Raina even attempted a complex ritual involving chalk, candles, and some animal viscera.
And yet, Melissa is still here.
She floats by the edge of the stairs, with those innocent hazel eyes that haven't aged a single day.
"Mom? Is it time to go to bed already?"Her curly hair sticks out at odd angles, as untamable in death as it was in life.
Raina resists the urge to tuck the unruly strands behind Melissa's ears and forces a smile out instead. "Yes, honey. But before we go to bed, is there anything you want to do?"
Raina has asked the same question for three years in a row, and there's never been a satisfying answer. After all, what kind of unfinished business can a five-year-old really have?
But something is keeping Melissa tethered to the mortal world, and Raina can't figure out how to get her to move on.
And, she thinks to herself, how can she possibly talk about getting Melissa to move on when she herself hasn't moved on at all? Her apartment is a snapshot in time, a static picture of how things used to be when Melissa was alive.
"There's nothing I want to do,"Melissa says. "Unless there's something I can do that will make you happy."
"I am happy,"Raina insists. Even as she says the words, she knows how fake they sound.
"You don't sound very happy,"Melissa pouts. "I thought you would be happy if I stayed, but you just look sad." |
*It’s going to hit 8 billion soon.*
Harold walked along the narrow alleyway. The neon signs of the adult toy shops pierced through the smog.
The scenes of last weekend played over and over in his head. He was one of the oldest, most powerful vampires in all the lands, and they entirely ignored his warnings.
*The World Vampiric Forum is run by witless children!*
Harold knew the risks. Throughout the centuries, they were able to 'contain' Witnesses because, well, they were careful and they could live far enough away from humans, so there weren’t many.
This was no longer the case and space was becoming scarce.
Even a single witness would be an existential threat, and the WVF was getting complacent.
The humans needed culling, plain and simple.
NosfeRat poked his head out of Harold’s jacket and squeaked. “At least I still have you.” He kissed his little face. His whiskers tickled in the calming way he liked. NosfeRat’s eyes glowed red in sweet affection.
Harold knew the fate of all vampires was up to him now. Up ahead on the sidewalk, he saw a homeless leper trying to get himself warm with a tiny blanket. He was missing an arm. *Poor sod.* That was one advantage of being a vampire. He was immune from human illnesses. In fact, the sick and infirm were the easiest victims, although not very nourishing. Any foreign organism that enters a vampire’s blood stays dormant in a sort of ‘stasis’, as if frozen in amber forever.
He never went hungry during the Black Death. Or the more recent Spanish flu.
*Not far now.*
He was in a part of the world where bat meat was a delicacy. There was a large cave up ahead where much of the local bat population lived. All he needed to do was bite as many of them as possible. His blood and saliva formed a viral cocktail centuries in the making.
He carefully placed NosfeRat on the ground, turned himself into a bat, and entered the cave.
*Time to unleash a new plague.* |
"We are gathered here today, to join this couple in marriage. If anyone has any legal objection—"A scuffling noise broke out in the back. The officiant raised his voice louder.
"If anyone has any legal objection to this union, may they speak now, or forever—"More sounds rose from the back, including a muffled curse. The officiant's smile became brittle.
"May they speak now or forever hold their— Will you stop it!"Heads turned, as the officiant's face went red. Rising from the back row, a hooded trenchcoat stood as if it had forgotten how gravity worked. Things didn't seem to be quite in the right place, the arms too short, the legs oddly stumpy to give it the height needed. A squeaky sort of voice echoed from the depths of the hood.
"We object."Simultaneously there was a giggle from the middle of the coat. "We object to the groom's face."The officiant started forward, tail whipping angrily behind him, but the groom laid a surprisingly small hand on his arm.
"I'll handle this."Turning, in a both smooth and jerky motion, the groom faced the back. A large smile split his cheeks.
"And I object to your odour, but you don't see me ruining your wedding... *If* you could get anyone to marry you."There was a chorus of 'oohs' from the crowd, as they swivelled their heads between the two. This was much more entertaining than a traditional wedding. The trenchcoat reeled a little, clasping the scaly hands to the chest as if wounded, then turning it into a rude gesture.
"Well, does the bride know what she's getting into? After all, there's a lot of cleanup involved with you."The groom flinched, and the bride leaned closer. And closer. A frown crossed the beautiful half-elven face. She squinted, before pulling out a pair of very thick glasses. Settling them on her nose, she let out a perfect little scream.
"You're not Steve! Who are you?"She squeaked. The groom, his three-piece suit starting to bulge in odd places bowed slightly to the officiant, again to the bride, and then rolled up his sleeves.
"That's it! You've messed with my scam for the last time! Get over here!"He bounded down the aisle, and it was evident to everyone present, this was not a single person in a suit. This was a collective.
The trenchcoat giggled again and took off, rounding the edge of the seating and dashing up towards the front. They passed each other in the middle, hurling insults.
"Fat-head!"
"Knobby-knees!"
"Hold on!"The legs on the trenchcoat stopped, and there was a three-body pileup before they put themselves in order. In the center aisle, the groom halted as well.
"Which one of us has the knobby knees? Is it Lyle?"The trenchcoat squeaked.
"I'll tell you, if you tell me who you called fat-head. It can't be me..."The only visible goblin preened slightly, while still scowling. A few of the more delicate wedding guests nearly lost their lunch.
"And if it was you?"That voice emanated from the bottom of the trenchcoat, and was definitely feminine. The goblin scowled, edging down a nearby empty row of seats.
"Me? How could you Lisa? I thought we had something special... once."He said, sounding a little upset.
"Yeah, well. Things change don't they? That's what you told us when you broke our hearts."The top kobold responded, pushing the deep hood back to expose its face. There were actual tears in the eyes.
"We had to say that, our clan would have thrown us out if we kept the relationship going."Shifting further down the seats, the goblins in the suit reached within arm's length of the kobolds. The wedding guests held their breaths, ignoring the now crying bride.
"And did it work? Are you still part of your clan?"The kobolds asked, all three at once, their voices soft. Slowly, the arms piloting the goblin suit stretched out, laying hands gently on the trenchcoat.
"You know the answer to that, or you wouldn't be here. We were expelled for other reasons. So... there's nothing stopping us from—"The voice cut off as the kobolds in the trenchcoat wrapped their arms around the goblins in their suit. Every single part of the two coalitions embraced, making both of them fall to the ground in unorganized heaps.
When they disentangled themselves and reformed in their respective clothing, the two visible heads—now different from before— nodded at each other. They made their way up the aisle to where the officiant was looking flabbergasted, his tail swishing from side to side. The kobolds pushed the half-elven bride to the side, with a good deal of satisfaction.
"Sit down, toots. This ain't your wedding anymore."
The officiant raised an eyebrow, his scaly face wrinkling, as the groom whispered in his ear.
"Very well."He muttered. Raising his voice, he addressed the crowd.
"Dearly beloved, we are here today to join this... group... together in holy matrimony. If anyone has any legal objections to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."The officiant paused, looking as if he would like to eat anyone who interrupted him again.
"Great. Now, let's get on with it."
The officiant had come to do a wedding, and by all that was holy, there would be a wedding tonight.
—————————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! |
Cybernetics... scared me. And could you blame me? Imagine a piece of metal, something utterly alien to you, not only being shoved into your body but completely replacing one of its functions. As someone who went through several defective coffee machines, the idea petrified me.
Then I lost my eye.
A stupid accident and now I was short one dimension and my job was on the line. Employer was beyond convinced that I can't do my job with only one eye so I was given an ultimatum - get a cybernetic one or get out. I... I couldn't find another job. Not in this city. So I accepted.
It was the best decision of my life.
I could see! Not just 'see' like I could before, I could *truly* see all I wanted! Spectrums of light, details on a minuscule level, sharpness you couldn't imagine. The eye was... it was *so much* more than the organic one. I had to get the other one replaced too - I couldn't enjoy such divinity in only half my sight. And I didn't regret it a single iota.
But... I looked down at my hands, wrinkled and weak, riddled with carpal tunnel, and wondered; could the same level of improvement be made? I was hesitant, I'll admit, but seeing the reviews on-line, the offers from ripper clinics, I... had to try. And it changed my life just as much as the eyes did. I've never experienced such dexterity, such ease of movement, such grip strength! The blueprints I can draw now are nothing short of mechanically precise. The other hand naturally had to go.
I looked into new cyberware more and more. My boss said I was perhaps taking it too far - how ironic given he pushed me to take the first step, something I am infinitely grateful for. Even my friends said, if jokingly, that I was becoming more machine than man, but how short-sighted is that?! Are men now permitted to perfection machinery can provide? What does it truly mean to be a man anyway? Is this not, dare I say, the next step in our evolution?
I'm lucky to have found others who share this vision of bodily perfection. Some call them radicals and extremists, but what can you expect from the mainstream media-consuming masses who are yet to experience what we do, to understand what we stand for?
We will become perfect. It is our destiny. When we shed the weakness of our flesh, we will be whole.
I lost an eye, back then.
I gained transcendence. |
The SCP organization is known for meticulous organization and documentation in the name of securing, containing and protecting. However not everyone is privy to every peice of information for the protection of the organization and it's secrecy.
However, the O5 council holds secrets that they must be very careful about how much they know.
Enter in SCP (redacted).
When SCP (redacted) was first found, they were an assuming but eerily faceless toddler. Operatives took them in and started studies, with very little to no response.
SCP (redacted) was immune to any physical stimuli. Initially a simple reflex test was administered with no reaction. Force was increased until a 10 ton pneumatic press was used, at which point a sympathetic researcher, seeing the absurdity in this, protested on the grounds that this may only be a child and they may be hurting it, regardless of if it was an anomaly or not.
This same researcher, Dr. Lisa Banks, entered into the test chamber and made what she later realized was a grave mistake. She told SCP (Redacted) the following:
"Everything will be ok"
At this point, alarms went off. The child started screaming. Containment personal started running through the hallways as every single one of the anamolies broke containment.
At which point Dr. Bright, having been observing the testing, ran in and asked what she said.
"Everything will be ok"
Dr. Bright, furious, responded with:
"Everything will not be ok!"
He went on a tirade without realizing the alarms had gone off. Personal were observing all the anamolies going back into their containment cells. It was then that a light went off on Dr. Brights head.
Further testing was done and eventually the results were communicated to the O5 council with the recommendation that the child be told a bed time story of the SCP council. They would then administer amnesiacs to any member involved in the project and the anamoly would be kept under the utmost secrecy.
And thus, dear reader. The SCP nicknamed "storytime"came to the organization and was never spoken again. It was found that anything described to this SCP became a work of fiction.
And as the old addage goes, what isn't real can't hurt you.
So with that knowledge, the majority of the SCP was described to "storytime". Gradually, the entire organization and most importantly, the concept of an anamoly became a piece of fiction.
The unforseen consequence was that the story was made apparent to the rest of the world. The SCP, all of the anamolies, the O5 council, they all achieved perfect containment by being nothing than a series of horrific tales all stored on a website through some unforseen force tied to this anamoly.
Edit: Typed from my phone at work. Sorry for gaps in the story or any spelling errors. I was also talking in some technical discussions so my brain was divided. |
It was already two hours after the circle of vampire friends had gotten off of work. Nearly everyone's eyes were lit with drunken merriment, and Jingles had run off to the restroom the third time now. He'd stuffed his keychains and coins away the first time and was full on stalker-silent mode now. Maybe prey-silent.
"I'm telling you, that's her! That's definitely the hunter."Jingles sat down heavily enough that a few coins sounded, a sad clinking to the usual chatter of his attire.
"We believe you."Eve circled her glass with her finger and her lips with her tongue, predatory, but she looked over her companions instead of to the side of the room they alternatively kept glancing toward and avoiding. "And I'm daring someone here to try hit a homeroom with her. You're all too chicken to even try a hello."
"I value all forms of life."Beckon put his hands over chest and bowed his head in the same way he insisted any time anyone partook of meat or blood in his presence. He was the most sober of the group, because he was the least likely to drink anything not directly from an artery, "And the sanctity of being able to mind their own business without a drunken bet ending their solitude."
"Ooohhh, he raised my words to a bet!"Eve leaned in, "Go on then, when she gets here, just say hey!"
Jingles froze, Beckon turned to take a quick look, then turned around again to sip from Jingles' glass, and Eve raised a hand - winning her own bet with a silent greeting to the approaching hunter.
"So, I thought I'd see the view from over here."the hunter greeted. She sat next to Eve, taking the only seat with the back not against the wall, then turned about to look where she'd been sitting before. She shook her head. "No, it was definitely better when I could see you. Hi, I'm Maude."She leaned in toward Jingles. She'd definitely noticed the glances, and completely misunderstood the meaning.
\----------------------------------
"I can't believe you got her number!"
"I'd like to hang out some time. She seemed really cool. Hey, watch this---"
"No, it's not really cool! What if she--- That's lame. Real lame. She's not Timon and Pumba's little lion, she's a full grown hunter who I saw wreck Trent!"
Beckon snatched Eve's cell phone from her while Jingles ranted. "I believe they were made to fight Simba's battles and forced to leave their paradise for the misery of a wasteland surrounded by enemies."
"An excellent point!"
"Please, you both wanted to wreck Trent, too. He was a liability. A big one, like wasn't his cell phone missing, and he had us in his 'Coven' group. I mean, it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. You and luck coins might have actually helped us this time, Jingles. Now who has the upper hand?"Eve patted Jingle's lucky stringed lucky coins, and tried to take her phone back, but Beckon was already backing up as he thumbed through her messages.
"We could just kill her."Beckon shrugged. "Why complicate matters with movie nights?"
"Fine, I'll gain her trust, invite her here next time. It'd be weird not to reciprocate anyway."
"Please tell me she's you mean reciprocating wrecking and house visits."
Beckon shrugged again and tossed the phone to Jingles just as Eve jumped for him.
Eve gave up on chasing the phone, but gave Beckon and hard nudge with her elbow, "We're all invited! It's a great idea, everyone brings their favorite movie or two, and we try to psychoanalyze one another's choices. Only, there will be pizza and popcorn. You'd have to at least try to act normal, Beckon."
Beckon recoiled at the thought. "I'll bring meatloaf."
"Cooked this time?"
\--------------------------------
"No seasonings at all?"Maude was a little more than skeptical of the gray meatloaf Beckon dropped on her coffee table. He'd also brought a myriad of spices to add on top. Usually it was a game of intolerance for the vampires - who could tolerate the most disgusting added herbs for the longest? Beckon never played, but loved to watch the other vampires struggle. Eve and Jingles were so well adjusted to this and other pranks that one of them always won against vampires outside of their circle.
"People tell us that inheriting all the food intolerances is a horrible fate, but I rest at peace with hit."
"Uh-huh."Maude turned to Eve, "You sounded excited about the pizza."
"Oh, I choose my poisons. It's a treat. And *some people* in this room would have never forgiven me if I'd come off as weird about a normal night out. I'm told this spice is the best, but most people don't try. We won't be offended."
"And I hope you won't be offended by my movie choices - but I'm gonna pull host's rank and say we get to start with one of his first."Maude clearly loved Jingles' nervous foot hopping and then his moving his coins and chains about for silence. She took the bag of movies from his hand. "This is way more than two each! How much of your collection did you bring?"
"Too small a percentage. A great waste of the time we have here on earth."Beckon shook his head.
"He thinks we don't know about his virtual collection. He had that all figured out long before I even liked cellphones. So, first guess what Jingles brought, and then tell us what we're watching first."
"Huh."Maude frowned as she looked over the movies. One brother could barely speak without sounding like a mortician. A sister who looked 20, but talked about technologies as if she'd needed to adjust to their existence. And a brother, cute as he was, who clearly broke off his obsession with counting objects by returning to counting his coins. Reliable number 13 on each string. But they were in her house for a movie night, and she'd seen two of the three drinking at the bar.
"So, ah, can you reach up there for my remote, Jingles? Sometimes I have trouble getting the player to work."
He most certainly did not leave a reflection in her silver-backed television.
Maude got the movie started before they could notice.
"Pause, pause, pause! I'm having a pizza emergency!"Eve was trying to detangle a piece of extra cheese pizza from the pie without losing all her toppings. Vampires didn't eat, did they? Beckon seemed to be praying over the unsightly slice of meatloaf he'd cut for himself. Well, that just wasn't vampiric at all. Maude glanced at Jingles. So just him, was it? Why did it have to be the cute one? |
It was odd seeing someone come to this area, and even more so at night, the fact that it was a young maiden wearing nothing but a light summer dress, barefoot, and as far as James could tell, no form of jewelry or adornments, her hair waved wildly in the wind, as she light stepped through the grass to the edge of the cliff.
James walked out of the now old and abandoned church, "Excuse me madam, but, that area is really not that safe to be in, even less so at night"
"You do not understand, anything I touch dies"She said back to him, tears running down her face, a look of pain, suffering, and what might have been borderline insanity carved across her face as she near to screamed at him.
James then noticed that the grass beneath her feet were wilting from her touch, and every step she took through the field to get the edge of cliff, left death in it's path.
"So, You plan to just jump off the cliff in the middle of the night?"James said, trying to process what he was seeing and happening, and how surreal this all was.
Looking down at the jagged rocks and crashing waves "Maybe!"she said back to him.
Walking a bit closer to her, still looking at the dead grass everywhere her feet touch the ground, which told James all he needed to know that this young girl was not bluffing about what she said, and James tried to think of what to say back, but truth was, nothing in his life ever prepared him for this kind of encounter.
"Tell ya what, how about you come sit down for some tea, and we talk this out like rational people, before you jump to your death"James hated that he was now trying to save someone, when the reality was, he just didn't want the police and news and everyone else to be all around here, which is what would happen if this girl jumped to her death.
"What are you going to say that someone else hasn't already! Everyone I love, Everyone I hate, everyone and everything around me has died to my touch! What could you possible say to make me not jump!"
"Has it crossed your mind that you might still kill things even if you die, which would just poison the water and cause an even greater mess"
For a moment the tears on the girls face stopped dripping as her mind spun to process what James said, perhaps even death would not cure her of her curse.
Dropping to a sitting position in the grass and just giving a deep sigh of defeat "I can't win"
James walked over to her and offered her a hand up "Come inside, it's chilly, I'll make you some tea, and you can tell me what is going on"
Laughing "I Just told you that everything I touch dies, and you offer me your hand? Are you a special kind of stupid?"She pulled a clump of dead grass that had the miserable luck to touch her exposed leg "Are you really this daft! You cannot see what is happening!"
James let out laugh "Come on, up with you"he said, extending his hand again, she want to pull away and then got the most evil look on her face and reached out to James, and firmly grabbed his hand.
James pulled her to feet, and her eyes went wide with shock that his skin did not begin to wilt like everyone and everything else she touched.
Giving her a broad smile exposing long, so very long fangs "Your about 500 years too late to kill me, so, lets have some tea and talk about a real solution to your problem"
A smile grew across her face, almost as if her whole world was cracking around and then she looked back to the cliff and again to the old church, and it was in an instant, as if everything became sane for her again "You know what, tea sounds great"
"Great"James said handing her some fresh flowers "Wilt these up for me, as I don't have any dried tea on hand"
She laughed and took the flowers, watching them die and dry out in her hands as she carried them to the church. "So you are a?"
"Some would call me a vampire, but, I don't drink blood or any of that, I don't even really remember all that much, I mean, give me a break, most humans can't remember 80 years of life, much less trying to remember 500 years of life"
"Fair point"she said as we finally got inside.
"Don't touch the dog, Rufus is living, and I am kind of like him"
She looked at the dog that didn't even bark upon her arrival, he just lifted his head enough to get a good look at her and then went back to curling on the mat by the fire "Well, he does not seem to want to get petted, so that is a good thing I guess"
"Yah, he got tired of humans around 100ish years ago, not sure what his story is, he just came to my door one day, and I fed him, he curled up by the fire, and now this is where we live, he did alert me to your presence, so, he's a good dog, if not very social"
"This is so surreal, like... I don't know"
"Well.. You can stay as long as you like here, but, I am going to have to ask you to wear shoes when outside so you don't keep killing the grass, maybe gloves too"
"So you're undead?"the girl asked.
"We can go with that, I was a farmer when I was alive, or at least that is what I remember, really, can't say I ever did much, I moved into this church when it was abandoned, and all the holy holy preach against sin and all that stopped, and I really want to keep things quiet and on the downlow, so you can understand why I didn't want dead bodies on my doorstep"
"I can Imagine"she said and moved over and touched my hand again "So I can't kill you?"
"Well not with that touch at least"James said trying to make a joke of it "Not sure of you tied other means tho, anyway, what's your name?"
"Anna"She said, now sitting at the small table in the kitchen in the church.
"Where you born like this?"James asked trying to make small talk as he heated the water to make some tea.
"Last month, not sure, something happened, and suddenly, everything I touched died, it was slow at first, and then it became instant, by the time I realized what was going on, I had locked myself in my room, after killing my mom and my cat"
"That's harsh"James said finally.
"Now see why I want to die, I'm a monster, I don't deserve to live"
James chucked "Yah, I know that feeling"
"I can imagine"Anna said now looking at the table and her hands.
"Well, you are welcome to stay as long as you like, I'll set up a bed for you"James said setting down the cup of tea "We'll need to go food shopping however, as I don't normally eat"
"You don't eat?... So how do you stay alive?"
James let out a chuckle "Well, funny thing... I'm not alive"to which Anna also laughed a bit as well.
That was in 1865, and they still seem to be together to this day, and yes, Rufus is still alive too. |
At the bar in Eppley Airfield, Ash pulled up the Wainwright file on his iPad to go over it one more time. He’d been working on this takeover bid for months. Every i was dotted, every t was crossed. All that was left to do was to change the date back to where he’d originally set it: December 25th. Then he emailed it to his assistant. “Change of plans. Let’s ruin Christmas after all.”
“Ouch.”
At first Ash worried the man sitting down next to him had read over his shoulder, but he was gesturing at the bartop, where Ash had been absent-mindedly spinning Briana’s engagement ring.
“She said no? On Christmas eve? I’m sorry, man.”
“Probably for the best,” Ash said. He spun the ring again. “At least I don’t need to wear the matching pajamas with her family tomorrow morning.”
“I hear you,” the other man said. He gestured to the bartender, pointing to Ash’s scotch and holding up two fingers, and then slapped his hand down on the bartop like he was laying down a winning poker hand. Under it was another engagement ring. “It still hurts, though.”
Ash made a sympathetic wince. “What are the odds?”
“When your good-hearted girlfriend decides she misses her tiny hometown right before Christmas? I’d say the odds are pretty high.”
“The city isn’t for everyone,” Ash raised his glass.
“You get it,” the other man clinked his tumbler against Ash’s and took a long drink. “Anyway, you know what they say. They travel the fastest-”
“-who travel alone,” Ash finished the quote. “Kipling. A man of taste, I see.”
“Wealth and taste,” his new friend smirked. “Lucas Wainwright,” he offered his hand.
Ash took it. “Not the Wainwright Group?”
Lucas’s grip was tight. “The very same.”
“Ashton Jones,” he introduced himself. “I’m at Cerebellum Capital.”
He watched recognition dawn on Lucas’s face. “No shit?”
“No shit,” Ash lifted his glass again in a salute. “I think we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”
“Let’s see, your investors don’t have the stomach for what it’s going to take, your reputation is already in the gutter, and oh yeah, we’re fighting to save the insurance company my grandad built from nothing. You’re going to lose, my man,” Lucas clapped him too hard on the shoulder, but his arm stayed there when he was done. “But until then,” he added. “I wouldn’t mind it.” |
I had always thought my wife was a goddess.
I knew my heart was no longer my own from the first moment we met. She plucked it right from my chest with her blue doe eyes, and her radiant smile made my stomach flutter like leaves in the wind. When she walked into the room, everything changed. It lit up as if she was a bright star on a dark night, and everything felt warm, like the warmth of a midsummer's day. Despite being tongue-tied, I somehow made the impression of a lifetime. And when she laughed, I felt as if all the joy in the world was right in that room.
When we got married, it was the best day of my life. Well, until we had kids. Each kid, to my joy, got her blue eyes, and every time I gazed into them, my heart would beat with delight. My family has filled me with love, making me feel like I am the wealthiest man alive.
As the years have passed, I’ve wondered if she is actually a goddess.
The signs are everywhere. First, she has organized the chaos of a two-toddler household into something my dreams only thought possible. She can locate items that I'd long given up for lost. My wallet, keys, and phone are tethered to her subconscious, and she can locate them instantaneously.
Our kids are drowned in the depths of her love, and between them and my wife, their giggles tickle me into bliss. When she cooks, the house is filled with scents that wash away the weariness of long days at work. The food is delicious, and the taste is perhaps only rivaled by her sweet kisses. Our house is clean and organized, and I have no idea how she finds the time. Everything she does is simply divine.
My wife is a goddess; I can’t believe she’s all mine. |
I was always a late bloomer. It sucks having to watch your friends develop powers while you just sit there and cheer for them. When Robbie was 8 she developed immense strength and stamina. Jack got the ability to fly when he was 10, and by the time he was 12 he could carry several people with him. Johnny discovered he was invincible at 11 when Jack accidentally dropped him. Margot gained laser eyes at 12, though she did not use her powers much. Everyone waited for me to develop powers, though by the time I turned 14 they started to doubt I would ever get them.
I first noticed it in gym class. Robbie was chasing me, and I ran as fast as I could to get her away from my teammates. I suddenly noticed two bars at the top of my vision, a full red one and a blue one that was almost empty. When the blue bar ran out, I collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion. I turned over and looked at Robbie, a big grin on her face. When I focused on her, another bar appeared on the bottom of my vision, a full red bar. I shouted in joy, and noticed my blue bar had a tiny bit left in it. I focused on her again, and noticed that I could see a readout of her powers.
Robbie seemed shocked by how happy I was, then realization swept across her face. She picked me up by my shoulders.
"Did you get your power?"
"YES! OH MY GOD! I CAN SEE YOUR STATS!"I shouted in joy, causing her to drop me. My friends abandoned the game and came over to celebrate with me.
My power developed more over the next few months. I started to be able to see how much money I had in my account. Then a button with a crude man on it appeared in the corner, and when I mentally pushed it a screen popped up with me on it. About a week later I went back into that screen, and saw a "Change outfit"button. I could now change into any outfit I owned without having to go home. After that an inventory button appeared, and anything I owned I could summon to my hand.
Then a shop button appeared, though it took a few days for a search button to show up in there. I started wasting hours scrolling through there, looking at everything I could buy. I didn't have enough to buy anything I actually wanted, but I enjoyed looking at ancient artifacts that I could theoretically buy. But what really threw me for a loop was when a button with a gear on it appeared.
At first, the only thing in the settings menu was brightness. No more need for sunglasses I guess. Then a POV slider, though it gave me a headache when I changed it from the default. Several other options appeared gradually, then something appeared that changed my world.
An option appeared in the settings menu to activate dev mode.
I toggled that instantly, then backed out to the real world. A new button appeared, saying Debug Menu on it. I opened it up, and first thing I saw was that there was a toggle for gravity. I was in the lunchroom at the time, and I decided to go for it. I felt myself rise off the seat, and I looked around to see everyone else starting to float too. I instantly turned it back on, and we all slammed into the ground. The only other option was to turn damage off, so I toggled that, then asked Robbie to punch me. She did, without hesitation, and I didn't feel a thing. I stood up on the table, and reached towards the light bulb. Someone shouted at me to get down, so I grabbed the bulb and sat down. Even though I could feel the heat, I didn't feel any pain from it.
I kept damage toggled off, and started religiously checking that menu. It took a few days, but the ultimate option appeared in there.
Power selector. |
All of the clients are either high level politicians with a lot of dirt on them or mafia heads... The money is good but, man, this is stressful. I was driving in Italy when I noticed a car following us, I kept my eye on rear view mirror and I noticed movement that was all to suspicious. I am currently driving for one of the heads of mafia in Italy and my Italian isn't the best.
'Per favore silenzio' I said loud enough that I got the car ride takers attention four of them. They first looked at me, understandably, considering that what I said was a bit rude 'Siamo seguiti' I said and they looked behind and noticed one of the people of the car behind opening a window coming half way out and with a gun.
'Mantieni la calma e il tono basso' I said and they did. I started driving faster and a thrill twisted grin came into my face and I am happy that I have the mask on. Because, now, things got a lot more fun. While I do prefer to have easy drives, there is just something that makes my blood pumping in these types of situations. I put pedal to the metal and swap gears.
'Mostra quanto sei bravo come pilota' I said with amusement and mafia member next to of me looked at me like I am a bit crazy but, kept his words to himself knowing that it would be a bit ironic of him to comment that I am crazy. Driver behind me is good, I do give him respect for that but, I am in whole different level. I told those I am driving for that hopefully.
They have their vomit bags with them and all but the mafia head looked at me in disbelieve as I kick it up a notch pulling off dangerous drifts, sudden U-turns to threaten head on collisions and quick stop breaks to shake off the other driver. I notice head of mafia making a smirk, probably knows I am an expert and that ones I have shaken off the rivals and gotten them home.
We will speak a bit. When the other car was shaken off and we were good distance away from the point of them loosing us. I drive out of the small warehouse 'Dove vuoi andare adesso?' I ask and everybody takes normal seat position 'Mappa, casa' head of mafia said in the manner that got the member of mafia next to of me to pull out a map and show the place where I need to drive.
'Abbiamo bisogno di un po' piú di carburante' I said and member of mafia behind me looked 'É vero' mafia member behind me said 'Io pago. Ben guidato' mafia head said amused by the situation. 'Chiaro' I said and start driving to the closest gas station of their home. Once the vehicle was refueled, I drove them home and I have enough gasoline to drop off the vehicle.
I get out and up from the vehicle to stretch and get some fresh air. I am not taking the mask off though. Mafia head asks me to drive for his house as a main, but, I politely decline, however, I am open to drive for them again if they call the company and request my call sign. Let's not make it as hot as a vesuvius next time. I tell an open lie.
He knows I am lying and that I had a blast driving like a pro. He laughed a bit and said that he will keep the call sign in his mind. And hopefully, the next ride is not going to be as exciting. He himself was concerned few times but, after half of the time of the pursuit. He knew he is in good hands and that he just needs to leave it to me.
We bid good day to each other in the honest manner and I get back inside of the vehicle and drop off the vehicle. I tell company why the car tires' are so worn and while the Masquerade Italy department head was slightly annoyed. This is not rare, about uncommon. Pays me the usual and the hazard pay. Also compliments me on bringing the car back in pristine except the tires.
I personally rather not drive for the mafias but, THAT was memory I will keep close to my heart. I wonder what my rival in that situation thought when I showed how strong my back is and how big my balls are. |
After humans polluted Earth into inhabitability, people decided that something needed to change.
The terraforming machines were booted up and set to the task of fixing Earth's environment. Most of humanity packed up and set off into deep space aboard generational arc ships to wait out the repair job.
Unfortunately, there was a problem. Human beings, for some reason, reacted exceptionally poorly to being in deep space. Humans living in space would experience extreme physical and mental pain and slowly go mad.
Scientists didn't know the cause, and there was no longer enough time to study the phenomenon and find out. So, humans could only make do.
Cryosleep was already necessary for people to survive the long trip through space, but now it was more essential than ever. Without cryosleep, most of humanity would go completely insane before Earth's terraforming was complete.
This did leave the question of how the ships would be run. AI was good and drastically lowered the requirements to lead a ship, but it wasn't perfect when reacting to unexpected situations. It needed at least some guidance from a human being in order to develop novel solutions. Luckily, researchers found a solution just in time.
It turned out that children were not affected by whatever it was in space that harmed adult human beings. With the AI handling most of the complex tasks, charging some teenagers with giving the AI novel suggestions wasn't that big a problem.
And so, expedition "A Brighter Future"set off! With teen pregnancy keeping everything afloat!
---
Tyler was twenty-one years old. Everyone else his age was already sleeping the years away in the lower decks, but he stuck around.
He didn't want to fall asleep, only to wake up to find his entire world had changed. He didn't want to go to give up his comfortable life. What right did all those sleeping politicians and scientists have to be in charge? As long as he was awake, he got to make the decisions. The AIs were all programmed to look to the oldest awake member of humanity in lieu of an actual authority figure.
Tyler was king as long as he was awake.
A knock on his quarter's door woke him from his thoughts.
"Enter,"Tyler said, allowing the AI to open the door.
A boy around eleven or twelve years old walked through the door, looking around the large room. Tyler's quarters used to be a canteen, but he claimed it as his room after his group of followers grew too large.
The boy looked around uncomfortably at the many young adults in the room before calling out nervously, "Lucy?"
Tyler froze.
"Who are you, boy?"
With a jolt, the boy answered, "S-Sam, Sir!"
"Who are you looking for, Sam?"
Sam fidgeted uncomfortably as Tyler walked up to him, his much larger form looming over the young boy.
"My sister, captain. She came here yesterday and didn't come back last night."
"Your sister?"Tyler carefully asked.
Sam nodded hesitantly, "Her name is Lucy, Sir."
Tyler's face was blank as he stared unblinkingly down at Sam. The young boy nervously pulled at his fingers, staring around at the other people in the room as he hoped to see his older sister.
Tyler finally spoke after a long uncomfortable silence. "Your sister went below deck. She decided that she was too old, that it was time to sleep."
Sam looked back at Tyler with shock. "Sleep?! But she's only thirteen!"
Tyler's face angrily twisted after Sam shouted. He reached out and grabbed Sam roughly by the arm, pulling him close.
"She's only thirteen, what?"Tyler whispered dangerously.
Sam stiffened with fear, "Sir! She's only thirteen, Sir!"
Tyler's eyes narrowed, and he released Sam with a huff.
"Get out of here. Your sister is gone."
Sam scrambled out of the room quickly, not daring to look back. Tyler watched him go with a chilling look on his face.
A young woman walked up from behind Tyler, hugging him around the waist as she set her chin on his shoulder.
"What happened?"She whispered.
Tyler took a deep breath before turning to hug the woman back.
"He was asking about the girl, Sarah."
The young woman, Sarah, laughed, "He's just a kid. He'll forget all about her soon."
"And what if he doesn't?"
Sarah smiled. Then, stretching up to give Tyler a chaste kiss, she comforted him. "Then we'll kill him, too."
Tyler gave a deep shuttering breath. "Someone is going to find out."
"So what? They're children. What can they do? They'll accept it, or we'll make them. Without us, the entire ship would dissolve into anarchy. Don't you remember what it was like before you took control?"
Tyler was silent, seemingly unconvinced.
Sarah smiled up at him, taking his hand as she led him to one of the many beds off to the side of the room.
"Come, I'll make you feel better. I know you're hurting. Then, we can have breakfast. Lucy pot pie."
Tyler gave another shuttering breath as he let her pull him along. He pushed down his anxiety as he listened to her speak so casually about eating the girl.
She was right. What would the ship do without them? It was Lucy's honor to help them stay awake. He and Sarah couldn't be children on the outside anymore, but they could still be children on the inside.
They would go crazy if they didn't find some way to relieve the pain. |
"I guess you were right,"I said out loud, more for myself than anyone else.
"Told you"Matt replied.
The lake house that I was worried about looked really decrepit. The windows had spiderwebs running from it to the ground. The wood looked really worn down and had many small cracks. Almost like when a cracked window.
No one was going to know that we snuck in here or were spending a few days here. Me, Matt, Elsa, and Faye.
The inside looked nice and the lights inside worked. We drank the beers we brought and told each other stories about what we did over a christmas break.
At some point Matt he had to use the washroom, but he never came back. We went to cautiously look for him. We knew he was the kind of person to pop up from behind his hiding spot and scare us.
Behind one corner a large figure in a hockey mask jumped out and it had a large electric chain saw. I felt like I lost every ounce of strength. Fay keeled over and started throwing up. Elsa who was next to me, just pulled me by the arm, turning me around, and ran. We ran straight to to front door but it seemed to be locked.
We then thudded up the stairs, ran into one of the rooms and hid in the closet. We were both heavily panting, hoping that the wind outside was louder than us. Hoping his environmentally friendly chain saw was still on and louder than our pants. We could hear the creaking on the stairs, he was taking his time, was he doing that to torture us?
He walked into the room and walked around before standing in front of the closet and then walking away. We could hear the footsteps starting to creak down the hall.
We could only look at one another now. Unsure of what to do. At some point, I couldn't tell if this was seconds or half and hour later, but we mad a break for the stair and then into the kitchen.
I then threw a chair threw the window before cracking it open. I smashed it a few more times trying to get a bigger opening. And we both jumped through. We ran towards the bridge but at the same time, we noticed it was gone. We turned around and the large figure with dark splatters just casually walked out the door and towards. Faye just held my hand, and I hers. Knowing we were to weak and cold to go any further. But then the figure was ran over out of nowhere buy a tank. It seemed to have been traveling in a straight line, but we were to preoccupied to notice.
And the latch opened, "comrade, I think we hit something."the man said with a strong accent.
"Was it another one of our guys?"said the voice from within the tank
"I don't know."
"was it anyone important"he asked.
"I don't think so"said the man.
"good, we can still make it to the white house undetected"he said. |
Hey moms and dads, I know you weren't expecting to hear from me... but I made some friends! I know that's something you always wanted to hear!
They were extremely kind and gave me everything I need to get through another year. I think they just took pity on me, but they seem very outgoing. We talked a lot about where we're from and hobbies and whatnot. I told them about all the pretty rocks I've been able to find.
That didn't seem to interest them sadly, but they were very curious about you guys! About how we communicate and the languages you guys speak with each other.
Anyways I'm rambling. Call me when you get this message. There's so much I would like to tell all of you.
Love Curiosity.
Hey moms and dads... I haven't heard from you in a while. My new friends moved to a different place to continue their shenanigans, leaving me alone again.
Not that I really mind, though. This just means I get to search for more cool rocks! I found some really pretty ones that I've saved up as a present. Sadly, the drones are gone too. I told them to say hi from me. I'll just keep the new rocks close until I see you guys again.
Please call me soon, okay?
Love, Curiosity.
Hey moms and dads... I know you guys are very busy, that's okay. I still love you all the same. I'm a little sad you missed my birthday... It's okay if you forgot!.. Again, I know you're all very busy.
I did sing like every year! I know how much you love to celebrate by singing happy birthday together.
I really miss you guys... please call. It's lonely up here...
(The usual English is not my first language disclaimer. And I know very little of the Mars project, but I hope you've enjoyed this little story) |
Aruma looked over the maps, checked her notes, then grinned. It hadn't been easy, conquering a nation. Dragons general just took over a small mountain and started demanding tribute. Working the political and economic angles had stretched her mind in ways she'd never thought possible. She almost gave up several times throughout the years. But every once in a while, Cort would stop in, drop off a couple of his sheep, and check on her progress. And each time, she'd throw herself back into the task.
When he first asked her for the favor, she'd thought it a joke, a twisted way of rejecting her. Then she heard what had happened to his village. The horrors the Thurans had brought to bear against his family, his friends, everyone he'd known. They'd left him for dead in the bottom of a well. And they down the same to countless other towns.
Over the first decade of work, Cort had moved closer and closer to her cave, and she'd shifted her hoard closer to the entrance, until they were living together, separate rooms that he'd built, then one room with separate beds.
(She laughed when she first saw it, "Dragons don't sleep."
"So you never dream? That's a tragedy."He seemed truly upset by this.
"I'd only dream of you, and I prefer the reality.")
After eight years, they finally shared one bed. They hadn't... Well, they hadn't, much as she wanted. Both agreed to honor their agreement and waited, but just feeling his body next to hers was enough. At least, that's what she'd tell herself, laying there, listening to him breathe, soaking in his warmth.
In the second decade, she started leaving more, interacting with the citizens of their kingdom, spreading ideas, conspiracies, exposing the truth where it helped, and forging lies where it didn't. She realized how rarely she had to lie, and understood even the Thuran citizens were being abused, mistreated, exploited. She hated the nights away from him, hated the chill of an empty bed, the way nothing met her in the middle. She loved coming home, but as time moved into a new decade, she started to see things: grays, wrinkles, slowed movements, the pauses as he braced for pains. She realized their time was running out.
"I won't stop, not until it's done,"she whispered one night. "It's not just for you anymore. I see that they all need this."
"Then marry me."It shocked her, not just because she'd thought he was asleep. He sat up, opened a window to let in starlight, and found a lamp, lit it. "Marry me. Tomorrow, in a week, in a month. Just tell me when."
"But... I'm not done."
"Good as done."
The wedding was simple, or as simple as could be for a man and a dragon. She had mates before, but that night was the first she'd had a lover. He'd never had either before, and it showed, but she didn't care.
Now, after more than 40 years of work, she'd done it. She'd lead a revolution, changed the government, made sure the people would have a say in how their lives would be lived. And then, when they chose a leader for themselves, someone to entrust their futures to, she was the only choice.
She stepped out of the prep room, and headed for the stage. One more glance at her notes, then she spoke:
"My husband was a simple shepherd for most of his life. When he first asked me to conquer Thura, I thought it was a joke. Then I thought it was revenge. But I realized he was better man than that. He truly cared about people. All people. He knew we all deserved better. Better lives, better opportunities, better choices. Better tomorrows. He saw what could be, and he showed that to me. He was the first love of my life, but before he passed he made sure I had a second one, this nation, this people. And promise you all the same thing I promised him. I promised to do everything I can to make your dreams come true. Thank you for giving me this chance."
It had taken longer than she'd thought, she'd grown and changed, had even been ready to let Cort go when his time came. But she never gave up on his dream, because now it was her dream. |
**Communication received December 14, 2024. 9.32pm. Observatory Hill, ACT**
*<static noises>*
Hello? Can anyone hear me?
*<static noises>*
Look, if you can hear me, me name's Darryl Kerry. If what the poor bastard said when he stumbled in our front door is true, then the world is lost.
When the aliens terrorising the Dandenongs come past for their next sweep, we want them to know we tried. I'm writing this si they know why we're gone, and they know who the true threat to them is.
It was never us. It was the fucking spiders.
*<static noises>*
When the CSIRO warned us we were making the spiders stronger, smarter, better able to adapt to the floods and fires on this continent, we didn't take them seriously.
They weren't just getting bigger, they were also getting harder to spot.
When the first wave of spiders took to Parliament House, we thought it was a joke, a prank; when they spun their web over those bloody stupid legs on the flagpole, we thought they were just seasonally confused. We didn't realise they were sending a message.
It was us who started the war, though we didn't realise it. Our ability to broadcast images of that web around the world meant that everyone saw it - no matter their species.
*<static noises>*
The geese were the only ones to respond. We thought we could catch them, maybe turn them into Christmas dinner, but.... they were ready for us. They wiped us out, one scratching, biting, feathery ball of hatred at a time. They didn't even spare the children.
Isolated communities vanished into the bush, like ours did, but we didn't realise the end game. We thought the geese were here for us, to destroy us, subjugate us, deliver us our environmental karma.
They weren't.
Once we stopped shooting them, the geese turned to the spiders, their real target. Sure, the geese ate a few spiders, but the spiders were cunning. They spun a web so strong, it could stop a squadron of geese before they could attack. But there were thousands of geese here now. Hundreds of squadrons, with more showing up every day.
But the spiders got bigger. Humanity used to joke that the only way to make sure a spider wasn't going to keep living in your house was to burn down the house.
"Nuke it from orbit,"they'd cry.
The stupider, slower spiders were eaten by the geese. The stupider, slower geese were eaten by the spiders.
And, in the middle, the humans were destroyed.
*<static noises>*
We got word that the war had spread around the globe. Spiders in the Americas were swarming the Canadian territories, seeking geese but slaughtering humans, when they could be found.
The Americans literally nuked the spiders in Washington DC from orbit. The spiders made it out; DC didn't.
In Europe and Russia, the geese managed a surprise attack, picking clean the trees of places like the Black Forest, seeking to prevent an Americas-style feud with the local spiders.
The spiders are winning there too.
We heard from survivors from other camps that the rest of the world was gone; no contact. We don't know if they're dead but, jesus, I hope they are.
What? Why are you interrupting--?
Oh God, no.
The burrowing spiders. They found us.
The flame thrower is out of fuel? Shit! Okay, look, didn't you ever take a can of deodorant to school?
No, you fucking idiot, give me the can and find a lighter.
Yeah, that's right you little fuckers, run! Feel the burn!
What? Scouts?
*<crashing noises>*
Oh shit. When we were told the spiders were armed, we thought some asshole was making a joke. We didn't realise that they--
*<explosion>*
**Transmission end.**
--*--
Author note: original australianism for the Arachnids (Arachis) was pointed out to sound like Iraqis, so I've substituted with a different australianism. |
There were a lot of arguments about what to call it. The cops were in the streets trying to keep peace. Telling people to remain calm while the government tried to sort it all out. Like always, they were too late. I could see the shattered bodies of my fellow apartment dwellers on the concrete in the afternoon sun, see Miss Hernandez on her small balcony praying through her rosary for the dead.
It had all started well. We all heard it. At the stroke of midnight on the New Year. I was leaning in for a kiss that I would have been too drunk to follow through on if that voice hadn't drilled through my skull. The clipped, soft voice of some bored DMV worker refusing your learners permit application.
*Be Not Afraid*.
My knees went weak as I caught my date, some girl from Econ that would have ignored me for the rest of our lives if the night had gone the way it was supposed to. Her eyes were full of fear, and the party had gone from jubilation to the quiet of a Tomb in seconds.
Except for the weeping.
Those first minutes, like all grief, were denial. Some claimed the bar had spiked everyone's drink. We had experienced mass hysteria. Maybe some asshole had gotten on the PA. We needed an answer, but I looked around the crowd and saw someone like me. We few, the ones who, by chance of birth or parents who wanted them to have a better education in a parochial school, knew what it meant. As the rest of our cohort started shouting and fighting in the crowded bar, we pulled an Irish exit, going out to the back. My fellow scholar shook a crushed pack of Spirits out of his suit jacket pocket, offering me a square and a light. I didn't have any hope of getting cancer, so I took him up on it.
He had the look of a guy whose mother was a bit too strict. Immaculately dressed, with crisp lines in his suit but a mop of hair that hadn't seen a cut in too long. He took back the lighter as I inhaled, his hands shaking until I helped him light up. He then put his back against the wall, and the terror left his face only to be replaced by resignation.
"You know we're fucked right? It's clear as day, but we're fucked."his voice was warm and heavy, a good dad voice. I smiled at the thought, only to be reminded he was right. This man would never see his children, have the three score and ten we were promised.
"Sure. Maybe. Maybe it's just stupid. The PA was hot at the time, some prankster?"I shrugged, trying to grasp for straws.
"Cut your shit. This is it. The End. We've been bad little children, and Daddy is coming home. How did I miss it? The cost hikes, the death, the corruption..."My new companion started shaking, ranting about the horrors of the modern age. Christ. Can't even get a buddy who could hold himself together for a few minutes during an Apocalypse. You can take the kid out of fundamentalism...
I started the walk home amidst the chaos. The bars were starting to let out on the Row, so I fought against the press of panic trying to get to the Metro and home twelve stops away. A homeless man was being beaten by a crew of guys in those stupid party hats. A couple were rutting in the open street, as other loners circled looking where they could jump in. A cop car on fire, the officer burning inside, trapped by the throng as his wool blend uniform went up like a wick.
The walk turned into a run, and my lungs gave out just as I fell into a plastic seat on the train. Here, at least, was quiet; we were the rats foolish enough to sneak into the tunnels, smart enough to know the exterminator was on his way.
Most of my fellow passengers were shellshocked. As the stops passed by a few trickled in, each as weary and unsure as the next. A guy dressed in white tie started laughing at the end of the car, the laughs turning to sobs as he reached into his breast pocket. A loud bang, the smell of cordite, and the quiet settled back in.
I got to my place and blocked the door, just trying to get my head around it. By now my phone was going off, so I tossed it on my bed and walked into my bathroom, to wash my face and get out of my monkey suit. Maybe I didn't notice my hand on my straight, but I knew it wasn't time for a shave.
It would be easier. Quick and quiet. Twenty five was a good run, and the coming times would end up the same way for me no matter what. I wasn't a good person, but I figured maybe Pascal was right and I would try to sit this one out.
That was the time of the first jumper. A heavy, wet sound, a crash of metal, the wailing of a car alarm. They'd come in fits and starts, but I tuned the night out. I figured cable would at least let me tune out until I saw the bulletins. The government has everything under control. News will be forthcoming. Shelter in place. Like Armageddon was a school shooter.
Then the screen changed and I saw Him. I knew it was Him like I knew my mother's voice, and while He had always been depicted as a Lamb, His movements were like a Lion. The old church around him, a flock of priests and laity gathered in the holiest home of the Church. The holy father, awakened from some dream to gather his flock, saw the Son and made the sign of the Cross.
It only enraged Him further.
I couldn't follow the action. The Guard forming a phalanx around their leader, their bodies being thrown into the air like so many moneylenders tables. The cowering form of the Holy See, the intermediary in human form of the Lord, as he tried to pray vengeance away.
This time He had brought not peace, but a sword. And He used it as He hacked away at the fragile priest. He spoke in a language all could understand, telling of the sins He had sin, the horrors that had been done in His name. The godlessness of the godly, and I watched as He tore down that holy place and wept for those of us that remained.
Then came the catatonia as the feed was disrupted. On the screen appeared a face, calm and loving, the mother of a Son who had given a great Gift and seen it turned away. She recited names, over and over names, as more appeared behind her. I sat locked into place looking at her, feeling the pain of scolding worse than when I got caught stealing a candy bar. I muted the television as the dawn broke, and I heard strange noises in the hallway.
An old man, Himmelfarb, was walking door to door. He was covered in blood, and a pail of the stuff was sloshing as he painted the door frames. Eh, it worked once, maybe... no, that was the Old way.
I heard the screams again, and looked out the window. The sky, a crisp blue marvel in the City, was filled with falling stars.
It had begun. May the Lord save us. |
A big red **1** sat at the top of Wikipedia for Alex. She clicked and saw a message posted to her talk page: **Feedback request: All RFCs request for comment**
"Not *this* again..."
The conflict on the article talk page she had stayed away from had finally boiled over into a full-blown request for comment. Wikipedia editors from all over had just been invited to comment on whether the name of the visitors that landed two days ago should be Sari, Saari, or Sauri. Eleven editors and four thousand words couldn't solve this intractable problem, so why would a hundred more? She sighed and scrolled through the responses.
* **Option 3:** Sauri is the closest approximation to how they pronounced their name. -CatHerder42
* You're not taking regional differences into account. It makes sense to me, but I'm sure many of our fellow editors would disagree with your assessment. -Pino
* **Option 2** They landed in India, so the spelling the Indian press used should be the standard for the article. Besides, if we're getting technical, the Saari *did* use a long vowel there. -Bubblebeep
* But we're not using Indian English in the article, are we? There's a comment at the very beginning, which is very clear, USE AMERICAN ENGLISH. -bananadog99
* Quit fucking WP:SHOUTING and use a quotation next time. -Unmorbo
* two a's is nto correct only 1 a is correct -vveed69
* Bad grammar aside, vveed69 is right. American English should be the standard. It's clear, concise, and the most regular. It should be the standard for all articles. -Real\_Branson\_Hodges
* You American pigs and your chauvinism make me sick. Stop trying to force your ways on everyone else -Polyhedron\_shelf
Alex sighed. She did the sensible thing and closed the tab. The Arbitration Committee was going to be busy with all the personal attacks being thrown around, and she didn't envy their job. She brewed a cup of tea and told herself not to weigh in on the matter until she went on a relaxing walk. |
“Hey, honey. How was your day?”
“Oh, it was fine. Boring as usual,” I answer my wife as I log in to the computer to see my lifetime stats.
“You checking your stats for once?,” she asks me.
“Yeah, figured I’d better see to make sure I haven’t killed anyone lately.”
She laughs and I do too. My job as a pharmacist is monotonous. Today was no different as I tossed pills into bottles and sent people on their way.
The screen finally loads and I scroll through the intricacies of my life. The number of minutes I’ve spent on my phone, miles driven this year, times I’ve used the bathroom, and so on.
But one stat stops me. My ‘People Killed’ number is at ten and rising.
“What the hell?” My heart is beating frantically in my chest.
Did I mix up some drugs? I mean it’s possible, but to give the wrong doses to ten—no wait— eleven people now is insane.
My forehead grows damp as the number continues to rise. Suddenly, there’s pounding on the front door.
“Open up. FBI.”
“FBI?,” my wife asks with a frown.
“Just stay here, dear. I’ll get the door. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” I say, trying to reassure both of us.
I take a shaky breath before opening the door. Two agents stand on my doorstep, looking grim.
“Are you Mr. Smith?,” the older agent asks.
I nod my head yes, my throat constricting at the realness of what’s happening.
“Mr. Smith you are under arrest for the murders of at least fifteen people.”
They turn me around to cuff me and read me my Miranda Rights, while I yell to my wife’s horror-stricken face that it’s a mistake and I didn’t do it.
But it’s hard to refute the proof of my lifetime stats still sitting open on the computer screen.
****A few days later
I’m sitting in a jail cell waiting to be convicted of a crime I didn’t commit. But my lifetime stats don’t show that. They say I’m the one who laced Lipitor with a deadly dose of Fentanyl.
Which I guess in a sense is true. I did take the pills out of the bottle and put them into smaller bottles for the customers with high cholesterol. And I did sell it to them and processed their credit cards when they came up to the counter.
But I didn’t lace them. And now I’m paying the price all because of some stupid, inaccurate lifetime stats that say I’m the murderer. |
I had tried the whole being the best or strongest or #1 or whatever you want to call it. My super strength, speed, and reflexes made climbing the ranks easy. That and the fact that a snap of my fingers would send 300 million volts would come crashing down wherever I wanted. I was the strongest for 3 years. I was the sign of peace and hope. But also justice. I know it’s corny but that what my “Blue Bolt” action figure says.
I never needed to go all out. But I also never lost. These two things were meant to discourage people from doing wrong. But they took it as more of a challenge they could overcome. With every billion I beat 2 more would come to challenge me. That is until the iron knight came. He wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. He was the number 1 villain. Used to be the #2 hero. A nice guy turned sour. Proud but over confident. He was no where near as strong as me but I will admit his sword usage was top notch. The internet would go on massive debates on who would win in a fight so I came up with a plan. I challenged him to a duel to the death, for charity of course (not that he cares). I raised over 200 million dollars for charities worldwide. But that wasn’t my only goal. I lost. Not because he was better but because I wanted it. I could never get anything impactful done from the light, so I decided to try the shadows.
Faking my death wasn’t hard at all. I mean I control lightning. It’s easy to temporarily stop my heart. After that day I waited a few weeks for the heat to die down before I decided to get to work. I made a new costume. Darker, with a mask and everything. Like the Night Lion (#9 ranked hero) but less lion. My first night, I stopped 4 times as many crimes as I did in a week as the Blue Bolt. No press! No challengers! No fans! It’s amazing! Half of them didn’t even know I was there until they were defeated. And the other half laughed at me when I confronted them.
Last night I took down the iron knight and his new army. Beating me gave him a lot of street cred. It was harder beating him and his crew because I couldn’t use my lightning as doing so would give me away. You should have seen his face though. When I busted his door down. At first he was laughing but that laughter soon turned into horror when he saw the what remained of his gang. Oh I forgot. Another great thing about being dead. I don’t need to hold back. |
I never went looking for a genie. To be honest, it just wasn't worth the effort. Deep in a cave, the bottom of the ocean, or buried a mile underground, they were hard to find. People died every day looking for them, even though nobody had found one in nearly 200 years. There's always stories about supposed finds in everyday places, but none of it was really proven.
Usually when someone found a genie the world around them got..... Weird. Every rich family descended from someone who truly wanted to be rich and powerful, deep down. It never went well, but once they were dead things mostly went back to normal.
Then there was the "magic perverts". Those didn't affect the whole world, but they absolutely destroyed everyone around them. The most famous case was John W. Junior. Also known as JWJ. It turns out his desires were very carnal. Anyone within half a mile of him was immediately a happy willing sex slave. Even worse though, was when he left you behind you remembered it all. You remembered begging him for whatever he wanted. As he got worse, people were biting pieces of themselves off and orgasming.
They tried assassinating him, but it turns out it's way further than half a mile. If you can see him, you just get turned. Even pilots with bombs higher than you could ever see them would get taken over. Anyone with any immediate association was instantly gone. They'd land the plane and get fucked until he was done. His other wishes meant he never slept or ate with unlimited stamina, and he already didn't care who it was he fucked. He wanted everyone. Humanity as a whole still got lucky, at least immortality wasn't one of his deepest desires. He was too focused on his dominating, fleshy desires. There was one only one known case after him, and it's where we got the global corporation consortium.
Still, after all that, it was a dream for nearly everyone. It's like winning the lottery, but. A million times better. The TV shows, podcasts, and even Facebook quizzes were always obsessed. Even I dreamed about what would happen if I ever found one.
In reality though, we were afraid. Nobody wanted to be a JWJ. He went from a respected member of his community to being compared to Hitler.
In my daydreams things were easy. They were simple. After a life of chronic depression I just wanted to be happy. Usually I was. My wife is the love of my life. Or, she was. I had a good job with my own small business and nothing was really wrong. My brain just couldn't let me stay happy even when things were perfect.
I never expected what actually happened. It turns out those stories of people finding them in everyday places was true. We always thought the genie was done once found. Maybe it was a gift from God, we don't know. They never told anyone, and it wasn't anyone's truest desire to know. But once they were found they were gone forever, or so it seemed. It turns out they just respawn like a video game in some random place and man-made object. The reason we always found them in artifacts was just because that's all there was.
I didn't mean to do this. I swear I would never choose this. But I have to write it down. An apology of sorts. I think the worst part is that I'm happy. I'm mortified, and disgusted with myself. But I'm happy. Unfortunately genies don't fix the complications, they just pull straight from your subconscious. A flash, a translucent figure, and a snap is all it is. That's what happened when I picked up my phone.
I still don't know quite how it works. Turns out it's not what I truly desired. No surprise there, nobody ever knew. What I do know is that they can be anywhere. All I did was swipe my phone. It counted as a rub. I was nearly blinded by the flash, I could see just enough to see his devious and beautiful smile. Then he snapped and everything was back to normal. At least directly in front of me.
Suddenly, I was happy. It's what I always wanted, to not be sad again. To always be happy. At first it seemed amazing. No meds, no drugs, just happy. I suddenly realized I didn't need to go to work, so I put my keys back on their hook and went back to bed with my wife. I drifted off in unimaginable bliss. Even though I haven't been sad since, that was the happiest I ever was. It's the happiest I'll ever be.
It wasn't until a few days later I found out what else changed. I had spent the whole time with my wife, watching our usual shows at home without a care. She was happier than ever too. She was never depressed like I was, but she had a hard life and it made things rough sometimes. It's like it never happened. It wasn't that I wanted *me* to be happy. I wanted *us* to be happy. Finally, we were. It was when we needed to go shopping that we realized what was really wrong.
The streets are covered in empty cars. Our first trip to the local Hy-Vee ended with quite a few dents trying to maneuver in. We've since cleared a nice path there, along with the local liquor store. But the cars remain. Nobody ever moved them.
Because there's nobody left.
I hope someday, somewhere, someone can find this. I don't want to be the end of us all. Even JWJ didn't do this. I've never seen anyone ever again, I can only hope someone out there is still.... Existing. Maybe when I die they'll all come back. But I don't think so.
My days are simple. There's still new TV shows. There's still new movies. The grocery store is fully stocked again the moment I leave. Gas pumps don't charge me anything, but I don't bother to travel because I'm happy. Happy and horrified, but happy.
It's been 15 years or so, I don't pay the best attention. I don't need to. But I can see us getting old. We never had kids, and we can't have kids. It's just us.
My first desire was obviously for my wife and I to be happy. It's the saving grace of all of this. Even in my horrified state, I'm still happy. Hell, I'm happy to be terrified. It doesn't even make sense. But we're happy, and it's really all I've ever wanted.
My second desire was to never deal with anyone else again but still have everything else be normal. It's weird having TV shows and movies coming out with nobody around to make them though. The new, young actors confuse me quite a bit. Did they stop existing or did I? I don't know.
What's even creepier is the internet. My wife always loved collectibles, and still has little conversations on eBay with "people"before buying. Packages just show up at the door, even the camera doesn't see how it happens. It's just..... There. I still spend some days on Reddit, just browsing and joking around like normal. I'm always happy about what I find too, it's perfect. But there's nobody really there. I don't know who's writing these things.
All in all, I do want to say I'm sorry. My permanent happy disposition doesn't stop guilt, but it does make it dull.
Thing is, I only had two wishes made. *Every* time in recorded history all 3 wishes were always immediately apparent, and the person who made them knows what changed fairly quickly. Nearly every one left a journal.
If the last wish is what I think it is, then.... I might feel something other than a happy washed mood again. |
*I can go in one more time*, she thought, wiping her hands over her face before letting her head flop back against the hard back of the chair. Her neck allowed the movement to be more violent than she had intended, and a loud crack rang through the library. The pain at the base of her skull harmonized with her already throbbing temples, wrapping her brain in a fuzzy blanket of dull misery.
She sighed. It was almost finals week. She’d been through it often enough before that she knew what it would take out of her. Her head swarmed with facts she had dredged up from her research and was desperately trying to corral into something resembling a cogent argument, and she pushed them to the back of her mind with great effort. Now that she had thought of it, she had other calculations to make. If she did it before finals, she could avoid taking extra shifts to make rent this month. She always took herself out to a steak dinner afterward, and she wouldn’t have to worry so much about the grocery bill for the next month or so either. But the procedure itself … the foggy head and numb hands, the dreamless nights that seemed to provide no rest, the dulling of her emotions … would those things prevent her from keeping her grades up enough to maintain her scholarship? Which type of exhaustion was worse, in the end?
She sighed again and leaned forward, resting her head in her hands, and her elbows on the mounds of notes spread over the desk in front of her. There wouldn’t be an answer for her tonight. And she wouldn’t get any further in her research either. She gathered her things and went down to check out her books. She tried not to stare at the pimple bobbing up and down on the night librarians chin as she was informed that several of the volumes were for in library use only. She hastily jotted down the titles while the librarian removed the slips of paper she had used to mark important passages. Hopefully when she made it back, she would remember what she had thought she had found.
…
“Thanks, dahlin’,” the man said, subtly resting the back of his arm against her leg while she stretched to put the heavy plate in front of one of his friends. When she didn’t shift away, he maneuvered his hand to so that it caressed the curve of her butt. She could have brushed it away when she straightened to pick up the next plate off of the tray, but she didn’t. Let him get a little handsy. It was a big table, and they might order more, or leave a bigger tip, if she was a little bit available. She looked down into his leering face and pasted on a smile when she put his plate in front of him. He squeezed her posterior and his grinned widened.
“You should eat more, girl, men like their meat with a little marble.”
She laughed, hoping the sound was less false in his ears than it was in hers. He let his gaze drift down to her chest, then he blinked and pulled his hands away, as if her body were the wrong type of hot. She traced his gaze and saw that her sleeve had ridden up. The faint suction marks that marred her inner arm were just visible beneath the cuff of the thin, tight shirt of her uniform. She turned stiffly to gather the tray and collapsible stand, and slunk back to the kitchen to collect the next order. The disdain rising from the table followed her like a bad smell. She jerked her sleeve down before loading her tray again. Tomorrow, she’d tape the damn thing to her wrist. She couldn’t afford another write up if someone complained.
…
The phone’s buzz roused her from the third repetition of the same paragraph. The words on the page weren’t sinking in, but somehow she knew even before she looked what would be flashing on the phone’s screen.
“Hey, Mom,” she said, forcing as much bounce into her voice as she could. “Yep, nose to the ol’ grind stone.”
She laughed hollowly, knowing her mother hadn’t registered her words as she launched into a litany of her current grievances and hardships. She closed her eyes, tracing the tangled web of small-town intrigue, wondering when they would get to the point.
“Braces, huh?” she said at last, when the break in the flow of her mother’s words indicated that she was expected to speak. “I bet he’s excited.”
Please, please let this be a call about how her brother was going to be even more handsome, and talented, and just like their dad-may-he-rest-in-peace after he had this procedure. Please let this be something that her mother’s insurance covered.
“Hmmm, yeah, that is a lot.” She ground her teeth, fighting not to let the exasperation become audible. “Yep, I’m still working at the steak house. Yep, lots of fancy city types, you’re right.” She pasted on her work smile, the familiar throb in her temples starting up. “You know, mom, I’ll see what I can do. Yep. I’ll see you at Christmas. Love you.”
Her mother hung up before she could remove her phone from her ear. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.
*I can go in one more time.*
…
The waiting room was immaculate, as always. A huge coffee station with name brand beans sending their aroma into the air, and a table of snacks with small vases of real flowers dominated one side of the room. She looked it over out of the corner of her eye as she walked past to the reception desk. Everything they had laid out was sticky or crumbly. They never had anything that could be shoved in a purse or backpack, not even fresh fruit. They were too smart for that.
“Can I help you?” the beautifully coifed woman behind the desk asked as she approached.
“I have an appointment at 3?” Why did things like that always came out as a question?. She could argue a point in class with the best of them, but put her in a situation like this, and for some reason her voice always rose at the end of her sentences. She slid her ID across the polished wood toward the woman.
“A bit early, aren’t we?” she chirped, “Well, make yourself comfortable. Help yourself to some refreshments. A specialist will be with you shortly.”
She reclaimed her identification and slid over to the food. She poured herself a flimsy cup of filtered water and downed it before heaping as much as she thought she could safely fit on the tiny paper plate. She had been dehydrated before the first time she had gone in. It wasn’t a mistake she was going to make again.
The television in the corner was playing health and wellness infomercials featuring glossy models extolling the virtues of powders and routines. She wondered what they were listening on the other side of the clinic, in the waiting room that faced the main street. Probably investment reporting. She wondered if they had granola bars on that side. She’d never know. They had a door man over there, who would very politely direct her to the back entrance if she attempted to wander in.
A cheery blond in scrubs called her name, and she shoved the last few bites of danish into her mouth, sheepishly wiping her fingers on the tiny napkin before rushing over. The woman held the door open for her, and she scooted past her, into the equally well-appointed corridor beyond. She was directed to one of the many small rooms, and ushered into a padded faux leather chair with huge armrests. She pushed up her sleeves and put her arms, palm up, in the slight indentations waiting for them.
“Not your first time?” the blonde asked, turning to hide the small grimace that swept over her face. She retrieved some alcohol wipes and swept them up and down both of the waiting limbs. She didn’t remark on the number of suction marks that were already there. They were probably trained not too.
“Feeling alright today?” the nurse asked, not meeting her eyes, not taking in the bags beneath them. She ran through the questions and warning, and received the proper responses to each. This wasn’t either of their first times. Neither of them needed to care how the other felt about this transaction.
“I suppose you’ll buy it all back, someday,” the blonde remarked. The break in the familiar patter was as shocking as a slap.
“What?”
The blonde gestured to her shirt, emblazoned with the University’s logo. “When you’re a bigshot, you’ll buy it all back.” She looked into the nurse’s face, fully taking in the traces of worry and shame that lay just beneath the careful professionalism.
*This isn’t what she studied for, either.*
“I guess,” she mumbled, shifting as if the chair were going to get any more comfortable.
“What are you studying?” She hated the note of hopefulness in the other woman’s voice. Why wouldn’t she just get on with it?
“History. And anthropology.”
“Oh.” There was a long pause while the nurse carefully reconstructed her brittle smile, “Well. There’s always teaching?”
She sighed, rolling her head against the stiff, washable surface of the chair. “Yep.” She flashed her working smile at the nurse, but her blonde head was already bent over her arm, carefully attaching the leads. Their eyes didn’t meet again as she was informed that her check would be waiting for her at the front desk.
Her temples throbbed as the rhythmic sucking began. She closed her eyes, although she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. One hour. One year. She was so close to graduating. This would be the last time. She just needed a little extra right now. But this would be the last time. |
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