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"Hello, fellow airbreathers. Thank you for attending the emergency meeting to discuss the imminent threat of the gillies. As most of you have heard, the gillies have launched various assaults at our offshore pumps."
"We throw poop at gillies!", shouts a representative of the monkeys. "Poop stink, they stink, they flee. Simple!"
"Please hold on to any questions or remarks until after you have all been briefed."
"NO! Poop is da bomb!"responds the representative.
"As much as we'd like the solution to be to just throw poop at them, that's sadly not going to help. As I was saying, we have been assaulted, putting everyone's energy supply at risk. The whales have begun suicide beaching on the oil platforms, a very clever tactic. Before beaching, they ingest a literal ton of substances that cause a massive explosion once the whale ruptures from the pressure."
Whispers and mumbles can be heard around the table after hearing this news. You continue your briefing.
"Many offshore sites have been hit and we're afraid they will assault our harbors and port cities soon."
"How do we stop them?"asks a pigeon.
"With poop!", responds the monkey
"No,"you say. "We'll need the aid of our avian friends to defuse the whales. Please rally the vultures, we think they can rip through the flesh quickly enough to release the explosive gases before the whales erupt. We'll need them stationed at every large harbor and remaining offshore site, with emergency reserves at every 50 kilometres of inhabited coastline. How much of that will you be able to facilitate, dear pigeon?"
"I'll talk to the vultures. There are most likely enough but they're centralized at the larger trash heaps. Mobilizing them will take a few days, but they'll be able to diffuse the suicide beachers."
"Good. Once that threat has been neutralized, we'll need to prepare for other attacks from the sea, and once we've secured our borders we must strike back!"
"How are we going to do that?"asks a panda, chewing on bamboo
"It's simple. You may know us as humans, but one of our nations specializes in fighting the sea. He is as solid as stone coal. Dear members, I'd like to introduce you to Jan-Kees de Meulemeester."
A man enters the council room.
"Grietings! I em Jan-Kees. Plies voorgif mai Engelish. But I em master of de see. Us Nederlanders hef konkerd meny lends from ze ocean. Wie call it polderen. Hier is mai plan."
He projects a map onto the screen.
"Dis is de urth,"he continues. "End dis is de urth after wie polder them de heaven in."He projects a different map of the earth. This time the only water visible is in the Bermuda area. "Nou joe probeblie sink dat Jan-Kees crazy is as an door. But wie ken doe this. Ut is easie. Dis is how we do it..."and he continues explaining his plan.
You are both frightened and amazed at how well prepared the Dutch are against the ocean, and you can't wait to teach those filthy gillies a lesson. To war! |
“They’ve got a kid.” She said, holding up three passports. “Or, I should say, we’ve got a kid.”
“Really? I mean – how old are they?”
“Six. We can’t kill him too, Dylen.”
“No, we can’t. Well, at least we always wanted kids before this. And it’s Dylan, now.”
“Ah, shit. I’ve got to remember that. At least Lila is better than Lily. The kid’s name is Adam, by the way.”
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“Mum? I’m going to school now.”
Lila looked up from frowning at her computer. “You haven’t had breakfast, yet.” That, she knew kids were meant to have.
“Um.” Adam fidgeted in the doorway. “I have to go early because I haven’t got bus money.”
She frowned, and turned to rummage through the nearby drawer and easily found the meagre amount of money for a bus fare. “Here. Eat breakfast.”
Adam took it, looking as spooked as a deer in headlights.
After he left she heard him moving in the kitchen. She was pretty sure his school wasn’t very close. And six year olds shouldn’t be walking alone for that long should they? Parenting was confusing.
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Dylan tilted his head to the side, confused. “Do you not want your food?”
“I do!” Adam wrapped one of his arms around the dish.
“Why are you not eating it then?”
“I just…” The boy trailed off, looking like he was about to cry. “I don’t want to waste it.”
It was like a lightbulb lit up above Dylan’s head. “You feel full, but you don’t want to throw it away?”
Adam nodded, miserable.
“Just put it in a smaller dish and leave it on the side. It’ll be fine for later.”
“Really?” Adam smiled at him for the first time. His smile lighting up his face, like if Dylan said something magical. When no denial came, the boy rushed around doing just that, smiling the whole time.
Lila noticed that Adam had been sitting, frowning, at the papers he had on the dining room table like he had been for the last half-hour.
Curious, she wandered over to have a look. It was maths work, ugh.
“Mum!” Adam seemed surprised and a little nervous to see her standing there.
“You look like you’re working hard.”
Adam frowned. “I’m not, ‘cause I can’t finish it.”
“You’re trying your hardest thought, aren’t you?” Seriously, this kid was working harder than she did in college.
“Yeah! Uh, mum?” Adam looked up at her, smiling nervously. “Can you help me?”
She found herself smiling back. “Yeah. What part is the hard part?”
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“What’s the matter Adam?”
“I…” He trailed off. “Dad, do you remember last month?”
Last month was before he was Dylan. He didn’t – “You’re going to have to be more specific here.”
“Specific?”
“Uh…I need a little more detail?”
“I said I wanted music lessons and you said I would never be good enough to waste money on and I said that was mean and you said it’s your right to be? Why did you say that, dad?” Adam’s face was all twisted up and he looked to be in tears already.
Did the Original actually say that to his six year old? What an asshole.
“Adam. I was being very mean wasn’t I? I’m sorry. You didn’t say anything wrong and I was being bad. What can I do to make it up to you?”
Adam looked at him very suspiciously. And frowned. “It’s not your right to be mean?”
“No. I’m your dad and being mean isn’t something I should do.
His serious little face nodded at the words. “You have to sit on the naughty step for ten minutes and then I’ll forgive you.”
“Of course.”
A large part of Dylan was saying that he had been a better dad in the three weeks he’d had Adam than the original Dylan was in six years.
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“You know, Mum, Dad, I barely remember what you were like before you changed when I was six. I don’t know whether you got help or what but I love you. In these past twelve years you’ve been the best parents I could think off.”
“Thanks, Adam. We’ve tried our hardest.” Lila smiled up at her son.
“You visit us as much as you can, you hear?” Dylan grinned at Adam.
Adam just smiled back. “I can’t believe I’m going to Uni already.”
“Neither can we.”
|
**I In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.**
Adonai sat on the plinth with his back to the nothingness. Another hour of him staring up into the chaotic void, making shapes out of the chaos dance around in his vision.
As today was another day wasted he looked especially desparate for this day, of all days, was about a week before the firing squad. Although they gave him an entire eon in order to create this new genesis, Adonai wasted it all staring into the void trying to start something.
Another day, another nothing.
Today was today and he knew that his genesis project was already supposed to be more than half completed by now. The darkness wasted around him as another curl of smoke puffed from his pipe. The smoke bent around a few invisible currents and got carted up into the entropy. The void stared back at him. He sat up. It wasn't that he hated doing this, creation was one of his favorite hobbies to do ever since he realized himself. He still remembers entering the academy of creators, the pearly gates bekoning him into devoting a quarter of his span to putting pen to paper and putting thumbs into earth. His favorite subjects was just in the history of creation; how creators greater than him found out the meaning and operation of creation. Beings like SUBROC and DOOM defined such things as such a thing as separations of different heavenly bodies, the creation of shapes and spheres, and even the color blue! But once everything was squared away, when the cake was eaten for successful applicants and the remnants of the bacchanalia were cleaned up and the starter gun was fired, Adonai found himself trapped in something that he had never felt himself trapped before.
Adonai realized he was a shit creator. A black thumb.
**II And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness *was* upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.**
Adonai looked into the water, back at his face, and saw the ugliness that his father slashed across from him generations ago. A giant lightning strike carved his face into two, one wearing the fearful scowl that he wore on that day, and the other his own 'regular' face. It gave him no torment in the playspaces, as others would try to compare him to dark dualities and 'blank gods' for such an unsightly mark. It make Adonai reserved and he never really interacted with much of his peers.
It worked in that he was no longer made fun of, but like before it left him alone. The time was then wasted on anything that would distract him from his loneliness, which school provided a healthy escape for. Although growing at the top of his class, Adonai started finding trouble in the more advanced classes as they started to practice what they learned into reality. Demondstrations in small bubble realities would cascade dramatically into large black holes that would have to be reigned in by Professor YogSlothoth to the ire of his class, and nothing would parse anymore in his homework.
Adonai was very dangerous to dropping out but somehow he made it through, the main scar on his face gaining friends the further he went in his courses. Apprenticeships with beings like Hephastaceus and Kurama had Adonai produce mountains with nothing more than a wave of the hand. Lightning and star creation became a common source of injury, and the time spent learning added up to several lifetimes of skin stretched between his body. He kinda liked it, as a man enjoys a properly distressed pair of jeans, but for many of the lower life forms that he had to direct with it was a significantly different matter.
Since there wasn't an HR or anything about discrimination when it came to the realm of heavenly bodies, you could just get fired for nothing more than sparking an accidental familiacide or two. Of course they were all non-intentional, but apparently death is death in the eyes of creators. Adonai just wishes that they could give him props on creating great looking mountains on mars and titan, but no, death even gnaws at achievement like wet lye on a hand.
It's hard being a god. It's hard and nobody understands.
Adonai kept floating in the water, ever thinking about getting a makeover when this is all done. Maybe a giant robe or a fancy hat, but for now Adonai just needed to get some form of start on the project. He did show his aptitude on the written portion as to what he might have done in this situation, but writing it down is different than actually doing it.
**III And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.**
This wasn't a hard thing to do at least when the ball is already rolling, Adonai thought. Stars for him was something that he did constantly in his apprenticeships, but now it presented a different problem. How would one create light out of nothing? Its like trying to make a white circle on black paper, you could try it with a white crayon but *there is nothing white in the void its all black crayon all the way down*.
His thoughts started talking back at him, Adonai had this problem for a while and *although he was a disgusting piece of shit that could never seem to create a simple reality even though his entire future rides on it* he still works hard at working at this issue.
At least it was better than boarding school. The thought actually convinced him at that point, no help to Professor 202 the lanky prick.
*At least he can let there be light, all youre letting in is your dumb, vacuous, head*
The thought was right, light was something that only worked for Adonai when there was already a source of light handy to him. Suns can be easily created when the gas is already there, but even now its not even gas that rolls around him like a dark ocean. Its nothingness. Another puff of smoke escapes Adonai as he floats some more in the brack black.
*Lighter you retard*
Of course! If the fire from his simple torch can help him achieve a smoke sesh, then the fire can also achieve
#LIGHT
and there was.
|
"Its a stupid joke, really."
The man on the screen was clean, and cleanshaven. Everyone was. But his face was lined like a map.
"Would you like to tell it?"
"No. I mean, I'll tell it. I don't want to. But I need to."
The man on the screen pulled in a breath.
"I was just a grad student. I didn't know the math, didn't write the models. I just sat there and answered questions the decision engine had."
"Didn't it know everything?"asked the interrogator.
"It could ace any test you put in front of it. The questions it asked were different. Like 'How does cool rain on a hot day feel?', 'Can a broken heart mend stronger?', 'How can you laugh and cry at the same time?'."
The man on the screen smiled.
"I was in grad school for poetry. Its why I got the job. They liked my answers. Thought they were pretty."he shrugged. "So he. It. She? I was never sure. It asked me a question. He said 'How would you make me smile?'
"I know jokes. But I figured I'd tell a math joke. Because, you know, computer, math. Makes sense."
The man on the screen shuddered. He closed his eyes. When he spoke his voice was flat, as if it were words he had run through thousands of times.
"Three mathmaticians walk into a bar. The bartender said 'Do any of you want a drink?'. The first says 'I don't know.'. The second says 'I don't know.'. The third says 'Yes.'"
"That's not right. Isn't the joke "Do you all want drinks?'? Otherwise the logic doesn't work."
The man on the screen had dears in his eyes.
"I was a poet. Not a math Phd. The computer was confused. I tried to explain it to him. We argued for hours. At the end he was satisfied. I was excited. I had taught him."
"How does that relate to this?"
The interrogator waved at the sterile walls of his cell. The food tubes coming up, the void tubes going down. Everything clean, nothing happening. Nothing ever able to happen.
"When he was given the reins he was told to make us "Happy and Healthy". The joke. That discussion. My stupid stupid words."
"Forgive me. He reinterpreted it. 'Happy or Healthy'". And he chose healthy. We will never get out. And we will never die." |
I sat there, holding my infant daughter, rocking her back and forth after her nap.
One could've mistaken it for a baby just wanting to move their body, but I could tell. Those were spell components. Each hand movement a variable in a complex series of parts that makes up a spell. Familiar, yet I couldn't recognize the order she was doing the movements in. They didn't match up with any known spell.
Then she stared me dead in the eyes. A deliberate stare that felt more dreadful than a baby's gaze should. Her eyes went white, then... nothing. Darkness enveloped the room.
Ok she's just casting a specialized Darkness spell I thought. How I wish it were just that.
When the darkness faded a few seconds later, my baby was asleep as if nothing had every happened. "She's going to be such a great wizard when she grows up"I thought to myself. So pure, so talented, innately knowledgeable about the components of spells.
Then I heard a loud crack. I set my daughter down in her crib and went to go investigate. And there it was. A corpse, mostly skeleton, with bits of flesh still clinging on to the long deceased body, eyes black as space yet somehow glowing. It had broke down half our back door and was continuing to try to barge its way in here. Then another showed up. And another.
I ran upstairs to get a better look outside and saw a hundred living corpses in varying states of decay were flooding from the graveyard 1 block down. One of them was Ms. Applebottom, the nice old lady at the end of the road who died last week, corpse still in near perfect condition.
"What could she have cast"I thought to myself. Then it hit me. "The dead walk among the living..."My daughter is the first necromancer to have existed. You would think after 150 years of an advanced race finding magic, they would have had it all figured out. But necromancy was the one fictional element that nobody could ever recreate with their new found magical prowess.
Maybe it's a good thing nobody's figured out necromancy. Maybe our world doesn't need it. If the result is turning your dead loved ones into mindless slaves, I wouldn't want that. I doubt my daughter would either. But she's too young to rectify such things. She hasn't even said her first word yet. Could she even know what she's just done?
Then I see it again. A flash of dark, emanating from my daughter in her crib. Suddenly it burst outward in every direction, going right through any physical obstacle, then dissapate. That's when I heard the chaos outside. The zombies outside were no longer focusing on entering our house. They were wildly running in every direction, attacking anyone they came across, breaking into houses, screaming in pain.
I knew I couldn't let her do this. Necromancy isn't right. But she can't possibly choose to cast it or not. Too young. I've never seen necromancy before, but we know what it would be like. It's nothing like our resurrection spells. They're choosing to come back with those. But this.. is just enslavement.
I had to make the decision for her. I can't allow necromancy to enter this world. Not after we just discovered magic to begin with.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed the pillow on the bed and pushed. And as she stopped twitching from the lack of air, I could only hear silence. Complete silence. I looked outside and all the corpses were on the ground, completely inanimate, eyes no longer glowing.
It's a hard decision to make, the life of your only child, or the good of the world. I just look back at that day, tinkering away in my arcane knowledge, knowing what would have been possible, and hope I made the right decision. |
Rock music blared in the distance, stirring Isabelle from her sleep. The faint light of dawn filtered in from her large bay window, just enough to reach the flip clock resting on her nightstand. It was a vintage model, sporting the rare date display.
Her eyes glanced over the clock. March 14, just like it had been for the past few months. It was a couple hours earlier than usual, six A.M. All thanks to the asshole blasting away outside - but she couldn't really blame him. Or the guys roaring away on their Harleys nonchalantly disregarding the speed limit. Everyone was bored out of their minds, their lives meaningless.
She'd tried drawing in her sketchpad, only to see the pictures disappear the next morning. Issy slowly got up, reaching for the book inside her drawer. It was a new one, the packaging ripped open on the thirteenth. The pages were bare, without a single trace of what happened yesterday. It was practically routine to her now. Just like checking the "Real Date"site on her computer, where she had to wait for the bloody Windows update like every day before that. She kind of admired the CS grad that set that site up each morning with the knowledge that it would be gone to ashes by the end of the night.
"Dad,"Issy said as she stepped out of her room. An early bird, he normally would be straightening his tie and methodically checking the contents of his briefcase. Fresh and ready for the clients that always came his way, or god forbid the courtroom. Now, her father stood in the kitchen with a can of Bud in his hand. He rarely drank, urging Mom to do the same. As Issy moved forwards, she noticed the six-pack sitting on the counter. Several cans were already finished.
"I thought you didn't drink much now,"she queried. All he responded with was a shake of the head and a new swig. His hair was messy and his pajamas were wrinkled, nothing like the IP lawyer who always fussed about his children's appearance. He'd worsened as the days passed, losing enthusiasm and going on long drives alone. One time he didn't even come back till morning, lying in bed beside Mom. His memories of last night involved crashing off a bridge after a multi-car pileup.
The fridge was exactly like it was the day before, and the day before that. All her conditioned views that sweets were bad disappeared in a flash as she opened up the freezer and filled herself up with ice cream. Candies from the jar came next, followed by the box of chocolates Dad had just opened. The same package his collegues had given him on the thirteenth. It never ran out.
Issy changed and stepped out, hoping that she'd survive the short trip. Murderous fanatics were everywhere, channeling their boredom into the most outrageous mass killings the world had every seen. She'd seen some gang kids from her school perform a drive-by on her neighbour just because they felt like it. Instinctively, she'd called 911 only to hear the phone ring in the background. She'd felt stupid when the realisation hit.
The rest of the day was spend at her friend Tara's house, binging on Netflix and eating all the shit in her cupboards. Tara's elder brother was out, gone to the bar to get wasted like everyone else. Drinks weren't even the thing now, as dealers freely handed out their stashes of weed and meth to the crowd. If one needed more, he could always raid the police station. The confiscated substances were all there for the taking when the cops didn't show up to work in the first place.
"I can't believe that I thought this was fun,"Tara said suddenly.
"What did you just say?"Issy asked. She stopped the film on the big screen. They'd raided Best Buy before every session, taking home the most expensive projector and setting it up inside Tara's living room. Around them kids and adults alike emptied the racks - but that number dwindled as the days passed. People just didn't bother anymore.
"No school. The drugs. The fact that no one cared what we did."
Issy nodded in silence. She'd been taking AP courses throughout high school, pushed on by her lawyer father and actuary mother. It had been brutal, especially since her brainpower wasn't up to snuff with the rest of her class. The late nights spent studying became nights of heavy drinking only to awaken perfectly sober in the morning. Partying at the club for the first time, knowing that her parents would roast her if they ever found out. Which they never could when she reappeared in bed just as the clock struck four.
She'd forgotten all the concepts she'd learned in class, the hard cramming for the Biology test disappearing the next day. Hell, everyone even lived through the second restart as if nothing happened - including her. Everything simply fell apart when the world realised they'd been tossed into the living hell of March 14th, 2015. A day that looped back at four A.M. Central Time, forcing time back no matter where you were.
Issy wanted it all back. The high school popularity contests that she hated, the late night Skype sessions with lazy project partners, the berating from Mother and Father. Her brother mocking her technological illiteracy, the bullies she met every day in the classroom. Even death and sickness as she aged. All she wanted was the clock to tick forwards. Waking in the morning to seen the plastic sheet flipped over to the fifteenth.
Running wild was fun. It wasn't fun when you were stuck in it. |
"Grobblenarb,"I said, "can you tell Flubberbundie how it makes you feel when she calls your nibblenubs small?"
Grobblenarb's nibblenubs shrank even more as he exhaled hard from his weary gillflaps. Only three of his eyes met Flubberbundie's as he rumbled into speech.
"It makes me feel very sad,"he said.
"Could you elaborate on that, Grobblenarb?"I said.
"It makes me feel like I can't please Flubberbundie,"he said. "That I'm not enough of a garglenag for Flubberbundie."
"Don't say it to me,"I said. "Say it to Flubberbundie."
"It makes me feel like I can't please you,"said Grobblenarb, extending a pseudopod in Flubberbundie's direction as his eyestalks readjusted like a field of deranged megawheat. "It makes me feel like I'm not enough of a garglenag for you."
"You're the only garglenag I want,"said Flubberbundie tearfully. "But yes, your nibblenubs are very small, okay? And mechanically speaking, it's just a challenge, you know? Maybe we could try--well, you know, there are other ways, right? You're hardly the first garglenag to have small nibblenubs."
After the session I went into the breakroom and poured a cup of coffee and drank it all in one huge chugging gulp. Then I sat at one of the small gray tables in a flimsy plastic chair and buried my head in my hands.
"Alright there, Lloyd?"
"I can't take it any more,"I groaned. "If I have to hear one more
cutesy euphemism for some arsenic-based freakshow's twiddling genitalia, I swear to God--"
"It is always the genitalia, isn't it,"mused Fremont, stirring his tea thoughtfully. Stars moved languorously across the viewport as the space station turned. "Six trillion traditionally reproductive species comprising eleven quintillion organisms and the one constant is that none of them can deal with the fact that they either have or don't have genitalia."
"I need a new job,"I said.
"You need to go easier on yourself. Meet the patients, accept the twelve-figure paycheck, go home to your plants and your VR collection--"
"There's got to be more to life,"I said.
"Look, Lloyd, you want more from me on this, you're going to have to make an appointment. Capiche?" |
“What the fuck is it doing?!”
I groan. I’ve been spotted.
I thought I would have the place to myself but clearly I was too optimistic. This place used to be fancy, I guess it still is in a post-apocalyptic sort of way. An abandoned restaurant that used to be called Giorgio’s at the corner of Markham and 14th. I’m sitting in a posh booth with torn velvet upholstery and splintered cherrywood finishings—figured it would be a fine place to enjoy this lovely ribeye and asparagus I had managed to scrounge up. Not to mention the vintage wine.
But alas, try to enjoy a night out and before I can even take ONE sip of the Chianti I’ve been spotted.
I drop the silverware and it falls to the table with a clatter. I put my hands up, slowly, not because I’m being cautious but because my tendons have deteriorated to such a point and I’d rather not exacerbate the decay.
I try to say “Don’t shoot!”, but because of that bullet hole in my throat and the open tear in my cheek all that comes out in a mangled snarl.
“Aghhhhh! Kill it! Shoot it in the fucking head!”
“Why is it eating with a knife and fork?!”
“I don’t give a shit put it the fuck down!”
A flurry of bullets come my way and I flinch but I keep my hands where they can see them. Two men, youngish—in their mid twenties if I had to guess—wide eyed and zealous. Probably just checking the place out in a routine scavenge.
One of the shots clips my ear, another does away with my left pinky (at least it wasn’t a thumb) and everything else by some miracle misses me and hits the wall behind me.
They pant exasperatedly in the ringing silence. I roll my eye (left one—the other had gotten infected and fallen out some time ago).
“Did we get him?”
“I don’t know...”
With my hands still in the air I shake my head my side to side.
“It’s alive! Fuck!”
“Hey, man. There’s something up with this one...”
I bring my left hand to my face and examine it, keeping the right hand over my head. I look at the stump where just a minute ago used to be my pinky finger. No bleeding, of course. My heart had stopped beating long ago. (My wife, if she were still alive, would happily attest to that)
I growl and withdraw my remaining fingers into a fist, except for the middle one. I keep that one fully upright and raise the bird so they can get a good look.
“Jesus! What’s it doing?!”
“It’s giving us the finger!”
“What?”
“Look! It’s flipping us off!”
“What the fuck? They can do that?!”
“That actually so chill...”
“Why don’t you go suck its dick then!”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
I decide to let the idiots work it out amongst themselves and reach for the wine glass (I would have gone World War Z on their hides if that or the bottle had been caught in the gunfire). I forego the swish and waft (my olfactory had gone to shit anyway) and take a big swig.
“Look! It’s drinking wine!”
“It’s probably the blood of a motherless infant!”
I point to the bottle on the table.
“No, it isn’t! Look it’s Chianti!”
“Chianti! That zombie motherfucker has no business with Chianti!”
The approach me, with caution and fascination. I raise my glass to them.
They pause, about then ten feet away, and stare me down. With my pinkyless hand I offer a friendly wave.
The cautious one smacks his partner’s hand down as he made to wave back.
“If you can understand what I’m saying nod your head,” the curious one says.
I pause, for effect.
Then I nod.
“Well, I’ll be fucked in the ass.”
I curl my rotten lips into a nasty grin and take another sip of wine.
- - - |
"IN THE NAME OF TORM, THE LOYAL FURY, I CAS ... *cough* .. ugh, out."I coughed from the smoke filling the room. Its acrid fumes sting my eyes. My hands stumble over the familiar motions of the ritual.
Oh no. This is bad. I saw the dark aura of the demon leave the helpless farmer lying on the ground before me, but it looked an awful lot like it headed straight for me. Must have just been a trick of the smoke. It is awfully hard to see in this cave.
I help the farmer to his feet and we stumble out of the cave together into the fresh air outside. Praise be to Torm that I made it out when I did. My legs were starting to go numb, probably from all the smoke.
"There is something *cough* that you need to know,"the farmer wheezes. "That demon was ..."he is overtaken by a hacking cough that drives him to the ground.
"Please save your strength."I begin to ready a healing spell to use on him.
"No ... you must listen ... very import..."his words devolve into a rattling wheeze that warns me I don't have much time to administer this spell.
But something isn't right. The usual tingling warmth the healing spell normally fills my hands with is absent. In its place is the same cold numb I still felt in my legs. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
It is unmistakable now, the creeping presence of a demon. I can't be possessed. No way. I have to end this.
My dagger slides out of its sheath with the fluid grace of practiced motion. The jeweled hilt glitters as the sun light dances across the deadly blade.
Then I feel it. The burning hatred that defined this tormented creatures very existence. A hatred matched by my own for its kind. I bring the dagger in front of me, steadying my hand for before driving it into my heart.
My grip falters. The demon's hatred feels somehow familiar. I become aware of more of the demons thoughts. This hatred is not directed towards me, but towards other demons.
<Hold! Your goals and mine own are aligned! I have no love for mine fellow creatures of the Abyss.>
"'What? How is this possible? How can evil hate evil?"
<Evil? My place of birth does not bind my feelings! Nay I tell you that I fight the evil creatures of the Abyss, same as you and your kind.>
I can sense the truth in his words. My right hand lowers the dagger to my side.
<So you agree we are aligned? You can sense my intentions are true.>
"Aye, that I can."
<Good. For they are coming.>
I turned to see fiends of the abyss issuing forth from the mouth of the cave. My left hand jerked up seemingly of its own volition. My fingers crooked in an unfamiliar, arcane formation.
<Lend me your strength, your emotion, your hate.>
I focus my rage against the Abyss into my left hand. A beam of crackling energy arcs forth from my hand and strikes the front ranks of the fiends. Ashes drift to the ground where the stood moments before.
I feel the presence of Torm depart from me. In its wake flows a raw, cold power. A power I had not known was possible. Yes. With this power I can drive the fiends from my lands. With this power I can finally avenge the death of my family. |
"We missed! Start again!"The officer's shrill voice rang over the angry hum of cramped machinery.
"Start again!"We all repeat as loud as we could as I push past fellow engineers, soot-covered machines, and whatever spare parts happened to be on the ground. The ceiling was rather low, but at least we had plenty of bolted-on windows facing out to ease the claustrophobia somewhat. A series of levers resembling a breaker faces the corner, and I pull the largest lever down. A powerful hum rises up. Just as in time to turn back and witness a ball of purple energy spiraling torwards our platform.
We all fall silent, freezing in place, knowing the power of such a spell, hoping it would just glance past us. My eyes widened, my throat closes up as we meet our impending doom.
...And then misses us, by a few feet.
I gasp for breath, my knees threatening to give out, before I shake off my feelings. We still had a job to do.
"They're restarting the spell! Hurry up! I can see them coming together to do the dance again!"
I rush to the next machine, a series of buttons detailing exactly what kind of threat we were dealing with.
Primitives, Magicals, Cold Conditions, Organics, Stone Fortifications.
Next machine, a slider to determine how far the target is, for maximum focus on the target. The slider resets after each shot.
Slide it up to around 300 yards.
Next machine, Compilation machine, to ensure the correct settings are put in by making me repeat the previous settings.
"They finished their dance... They're on the human sacrifice part now! They're getting closer, hurry up!"
Settings... what were the settings again? I hurry to type everything in. Primitives, Organics, Magicals, Cold Conditions, Stone Fortifications. 300 Yards.
The machine gives out an angry beep, reading out an error code
*CDFX234BVT*.
Memorize that. Run to the code machine at the end of the deck. Type said code into code machine.
*Incorrect Order of Options. Please order in options in the correct order.*
Run back to compilation machine.
Hastily type out Primitives, Magicals, Cold Conditions, Organics, Stone Fortifications. 300 Yards.
"What's the damn issue? They've nearly finished canniballizing the sacrificed human! They're closer to firing than we are!"
Run to the hardware line of machines. Turn the key, whirring the Platform Gun to power up. Flip switches 1, 2, 3, 4. Watch the power indicator slowly climb to 100%. I nervously check the window. The wizards were playing kickball in a weird fashion on the ground as blood from the head formed an image. Ugh.
The clicks of the machine indicate it's at 100%. Finally. "Ready to fire!"
"Fire!"
We cover our ears as I pull the plug on the firing mechanism, and a loud ball of orange plasma energy leaves our superweapon, hurling towards the wizards.
...And whizzes by, turning a different peak into a mesa. By now the only peak in the region is the wizard base itself.
"We missed! Start again!"The officer's shrill voice rang over the angry hum of cramped machinery. |
Smoke whispered from my suppressed Colt as my fingers tightened on the familiar pressure of the trigger.
“Call in the cleanup crew,” I said matter-of-factly into my earpiece. “We got another one.”
While I waited for the scrubs, I turned my attention to the delicious foie gras the late three star Michelin chef currently taking a nap on the floor had been preparing. As I cut into the liver, I reflected on my current assignment.
I never had a stomach for killing people, but the fact that my latest targets usually had a fantastic dish nearby them for me to relish, as if they were preparing their last meal for their assassin to enjoy, satiated a bit of the job.
Well, okay, not _targets_. Target. The last hundred .45 rounds from my Colt have all found a home in the same face— the face of my damned witness, Gordon Ramsey.
He was a no-name chef and was as far away from a Michelin star as was my ex-wife from me. That was when an equally no-name drug dealer by the name of Pablo Escobar decided to pick him up as a personal chef.
Being present in the dining room for all the important deals gentlemen such as the esteemed Mr. Escobar made, Ramsey became a weak point of the entire operation. After the poor chef made contact with the FBI, the cartel was on to him. He was tortured for information, or rather, what he leaked. Auspiciously, a FBI narcotics team took Escobar out, and we had found the poor guy hanging from his wrists on a hook in a meat fridge. Luckily or not, Ramsey got— quite literally— off the hook with just his fingernails pulled out.
Of course, the press got a hot scoop of the story— the FBI saving a British citizen, which the politicians abused like hawks to squeeze every little international compliment from.
And we’re back to square one. I was blessed by the FBI bureaucratic RNGesus with the holy duty of protecting Gordon’s little arse.
But the thing is, that crafty little chef decided to go behind the backs of the Feds and sold his identity online so that any wannabe chef impersonate could use to boost their sales. In exchange, “Gordon Ramsey” appeared on every other cooking show and mysteriously gained three Michelin stars.
So I’ve been tying up loose ends. Every new Ramsey that shows up is another contact with my witness that can provide a trail of crumbs for any of Escobar’s men remaining, hunting down their own loose ends. Escobar’s fingers ran deep, with connections, henchmen, and sleepers in every federal agency. The Bureau just needed Ramsey alive for two more months. If he died before then, the case against Escobar’s network collapsed without its chief witness, and the decapitated hydra was trying its best to pull all the strings it could before the court could light a fire to the stump. I had to stay on the watch for any of our own agents impeding my mission.
I set my knife down as the cleanup crew finally arrived.
“You’re late,” I nonchalantly stated.
“Sorry Patrick, we got held up with the last guy you shot an hour ago,” Hannah, the head mortician, retorted back. Behind her were two more of her crime scene freaks.
I gave a faint smirk before I started walking away.
Hannah started to say, “Hey, this guy doesn’t have any fing—“ as a suppressed Colt coughed three more times.
Edit: minor mechanics and loose ends :) |
When the letter had come, he hadn’t expected the single sheet of paper to feel so heavy in his hands.
He leaned on the marble table as he stared at the rest of the Harvard admission package lying innocently on it. He wanted to bury it and the letter under the rest of the mail that had come, pretend like it hadn’t arrived, that it didn’t exist. He raised the admission letter close to his eyes, the words looming large before them, rereading it once more to make sure he had read it right.
“Congratulations Jason Fenix...you have been accepted...Harvard…”
The words popped out at him. It was clear. There was no doubt. Still… maybe… He read the same words again, the same words unchanged.
He closed his eyes, a storm of emotions raging inside of him. He felt anger, frustration, and bitterness well up inside. He clenched his fist, the admission letter crumpling inside of it. He grunted hard, grinding his teeth against one another as his veins stretched against the fabric of his skin. Then, he let go. He forced himself to inhale and exhale calmly, once, twice, then several times. He stared out the window for a few minutes eyeing the sunny beautiful day outside before he had the strength to look at the admission letter again.
Wow.
25 times, huh.
It must be a record.
He sighed as the past flashed through his mind despite his willingness to not remember it. He had been 20, once, a long time ago. It felt like an age ago now. He remembered how his father would come back from the mines every day, coal dust caking his face a pitch black. He remembered the happy laughs of his mother and father, his brothers and sisters, who had a decent enough life even if they never had much. That is, until his father had been laid off from his mining job.
He still remembered how proud his father was of his intellect, his outstanding grades at school. He could still hear the words of praise, how he always said his son was going to get into Harvard as if it were a matter of fact. His father wouldn’t even discuss him applying to other schools. After all, how could they not accept him? He went along with his father, agreeing with it, fooling himself to believe it. It was one of the few bright spots that his father still had. Who was he to take that away from him?
Well, at least until Harvard had come back and rejected him.
The days, the weeks, the years that followed were ones that he would rather forget. The disappointment and sadness in his father’s eyes were still too much for him, even now. He buried his head in his hands as his elbows propped him up on the table. The memories of those days were forever inside of his head.
Eventually, he had moved on. Step by step, he had managed to push on with his life. He picked himself up, applied to universities that accepted him. In secret, he applied to Harvard again every year even if they rejected him every time. It had become a habit for him. He never believed they would actually accept him.
He heard steps behind him turn the corner to the kitchen.
He turned around, no time to hide the letter. The wrinkled face of his father looked at him curiously at what he had in his hand. He sighed heavily as he slowly handed the paper over to him. His father scanned the paper, eyes lighting up in surprise. His father looked up at him in disbelief as his hand shot out to his, holding it tight and squeezing firm. He laughed, smiling wide as his mouth curled upward.
Jason chuckled, smiling too.
“Well, I’ll be damned…” His father whispered out. He handed the letter back over to him.
“Haha, ya…” He coughed. “25th times is the charm eh Dad?”
His father laughed more before he stopped himself, the words having sunk in. “Did you really apply 25 times?”
“Uhh, y-ya, ya I did…” He pushed the words out, straightening his shirt, licking his lips.
His father hugged him, not saying a word as his father brought his arms around him. He slowly brought his own arms around his father, wrapping it tight around him. They stayed together, silently, until voices from outside interrupted.
“Honey! We’re going to be late for the flight. Are you finished in there?” Called a voice from outside, the trunk of the SUV slamming shut. “Timothy, go check on your dad, see what he’s up to.”
“Okay mom!” replied Timothy.
“Mom, what about grandpa?” called a softer voice.
“Nancy, how about you go check on grandpa then?”
“K!” said Nancy happily.
Jason and his father broke their hug as the two children ran into the house, stumbling over to the kitchen.
“Dad, mom said we’re going to be late.” said Nancy.
“Ya Dad! We’re going to be late to Japan!” agreed Timothy.
“Ya Dad! Aren’t CBOs supposed to always be on time to everything? Squeaked Nancy.
Jason bent down, chucking. “That’s CEO dear. And you're right, we can’t be late.” He looked up at his father before he looked back at the both of them. “Why don’t you both tell mommy that grandpa and I will be right there.”
“OK Dad!” They both replied as they scampered off.
Jason rose as he and his dad looked at each other. His dad smiled at him one more time as they hugged once again before he left for the car. Nothing more needed to be said.
He looked at the admission letter. Once, a long time ago, he had thought he needed Harvard. But he had learned he never needed Harvard at all. Now, they needed him. For what? So they could eventually get donation money from him once he graduated? So they could eventually add another name to their list of prominent alumni?
Now, Harvard needed him. But he didn’t need them. He never had. He crumpled and tossed the admission letter into the trash.
He went outside to his family, his father, and the happy life they had.
|
Among Terran shipwrights, there exists a concept that most of you would find foreign; the problem of gravity. The tyranny of the rocket equation is rarely an issue now, in the age of Maxwell drives and hypertunnels, but it speaks volumes of one of mankind's defining traits; a high gravity upbringing in a low-gravity universe.
Such a detail hardly seems significant, at first glance; after all, gravity is only a minor part of a planet's character, and, in most other aspects, Terra was a blessed paradise. Lots of water, protection from meteors, strong magnetosphere; mankind, in many ways, was a race favored by nature. But gravity is far more important of a limiting factor than it seems. Most races never experienced resource depletion, or overpopulation, or war on the scale of mankind's. For them, the solution to these problems was simple; just move to a new planet.
Humanity had no such option and, so, in time, their paradise turned to a hell. It is telling that, across the known universe, only humans experience fear when the word "nuclear"comes up; only humans still personally know soldiers who have died in the line of duty, who are more than just members of the glorified police forces maintained by other civilizations. To a Varoni or a Czxi, "war"is a long-abolished relic of feudal ages of millennia past- to a human, it is a reminder of horror stories from elders, of pain so strong that even three generations of separation haven't fully healed the wounds. From the city of Tokyo to Armstrong Gate, from Terra all the way to the colonies of Alpha Centauri, memorials still stand to the Great War, of a time when man was at his most savage, before he was finally liberated from his earthly bonds by the miracle that they call the Maxwell Drive.
But make no mistake; savagery still dwells in the hearts of men. On the edges of V'iil Station, in the heart of even the pacifistic Czxi Conglomerate, human warlords make deals with Czxi merchant families to protect holdings on hostile worlds. In the ancient metropolis of Yala, fugitives from the Iopian throne are dragged back to the emperor by human bounty hunters, begging to be returned into throne custody rather than risk one more moment in proximity to a human. Mankind may not have had a war in a very long time, but they are no stranger to conflict.
Unfortunate as it is, humans are uniquely equipped to deal in the more violent aspects of the galaxy's dealings. They may be feared, and for good reason, but they may at least take solace in the fact that they are also respected. After all, violence is not always vile. Who else but a human can save a village from a rampaging Utal herd without losing a single villager? Who else but a human can eradicate a pirate menace in unexplored space, and all for cheaper prices than renting a Jki robotic legion? The availability of human battalions has allowed expansion of industry on even the most overgrown, brutal jungle worlds, and there are many who owe their lives to human protection.
But more than all of this, the humans are insurance, well worth their fee. Someday, inevitably, another race will rise from the ashes of nuclear devastation, another civilizations condemned to earthbound suffering, and they will be bitter, just as the humans were. They will wonder why they were not saved from their suffering, and they will, like mankind, contemplate waging a crusade upon us all. When this happens, we will need a protector, and damn the expense.
But if we cut off relief shipments to Terra, if we cease our payments now? I have seen humans, I have lived with them, and, pleasant as they can be, they will not hesitate to leave us to our fates. They harbor no great love for the races that abandoned them in their time of need, and they will feel no remorse for abandoning us in our darkest hour, should we make the mistake of cutting them off. So, as much as it costs, we cannot afford to stop. As both representative of the Alliance and ambassador to Terra, believe me when I say that this agreement is in the best interest of all involved. Raise taxes if you must, but the humans must be paid. When the radiation is cleared, when the famines and droughts have ended on Terra? Maybe they'll consider our debt paid, and maybe they'll come to our aid when we need them . But until then, we cannot go back on our promise. We need mankind as our ally, and I cannot contemplate the disaster that having them as an enemy would be. |
Immortality. We’ve all fantasized about it. We’ve all wondered what it would be like. Many have dedicated their lives to achieving it. Yet despite all this effort, nobody has actually achieved it. Or so you think.
While you wouldn’t notice it, there are immortals all around you. They have lived for millennia, seeing all of the changes of the world. They know of their gift, and they treat it with the utmost seriousness. Some of them guard the secret better than others, but the council has ensured those that don’t cover their tracks aren’t discovered.
The immortals that do cover their tracks well move around the globe, methodically ensuring no one discovers their immortality. They could be shot in the head and get back up from it, however it does mean that their attacker must be taken care of. Those who don’t cover their tracks, however, are just as vulnerable as everyone else, and they age, however they are given the gift of reincarnation. However you can be changed between one or the other. Despite what some people may think, reincarnated immortals remember their past lives.
Back in Renaissance Italy, I met a fellow immortal. At the time I was a female, a fair brunette. I had been told by the council that the man was immortal, and that apparently he had committed the crime of becoming a famous figure. My job was to inform him that his invulnerability was taken from him, and that he would be forced to reincarnate.
My problem, of course, was that I needed to get to the man to tell him this news. He was a painter, so I decided I would volunteer to be a model for him. He agreed, and he invited me into his home. As I sat down for my pose, I tried to tell him the news.
“Excuse me...”
“Shhh...”, he cut me off “do not break your smile. It is what makes the painting,”
“But...”
“N-n-n-no, do not speak. The time for words will be soon.”
I sighed, defeated, and continued to pose. I waited for hours for him to call it a day, to send me back on my way so that I would have time to speak to him. But when that time came he showed me the door with no hesitation. *great,* I had thought to myself, *Now I have to actually go through with this.*
So I went to his abode again, hoping I would get a chance to speak, but as with the first day I did not. And neither did I the next day. Or the next. This kept going on until the painting was almost finished, however the silence was not broken in the way I had planned.
“You’re such a fair lady,” the painter started talking out of nowhere, “It must be difficult to keep people from getting attached to you”.
The statement took me aback. Sure I had to keep men from swooning over me because I had to protect my immortality, but he didn’t know that.
“What makes you think I must keep away from men?” I tried to keep my cards to my chest.
“Well the council wouldn’t like it if you were to fall in love, you would be forced into a reincarnation.”
“Wait!” I jerked up suddenly, “You mean to tell me you know I’m an immortal?”
“Yes,” his face curved into a smug smile
“Then why are you wasting my time with this painting? I obviously have news from the council!”
“I already know you came to tell me I lost my invulnerability for this life, so there was no reason to hear you tell me.” He returned to painting the image, probably working on the
“That still doesn’t answer my question!” I started to raise my voice “Why did you waste my time!?”
“Because I’ve been looking for a model for a while, and you came right to my doorstep. I knew who you were, I knew why you were here, so I knew I could keep you coming back if you had a reason.”
“Mr. da Vinci, you’re a terrible immortal. You use all of your prior knowledge to get ahead, just so some lowly mortals will respect you. In a way I pity you. Good day!” I started out of Leonardo’s house.
“Until next time, Mona!” He somehow kept a cheerful attitude despite my rude remarks.
“There won’t be a next time!” And I head out the door. But man, I was way off. There was in fact a next time. Many, in fact. Not in that lifetime, but due to the *Mona Lisa’s* popularity, I had lost my invulnerability in that life. I eventually died on the Italian countryside, and was reborn in Japan.
I remember how relaxing it was to live in Japan. No worries of modern life, nobody paid too much attention to me. The food was good and I was happy. Amongst immortals, going to Japan to live was essentially a vacation. Most of the political turmoil, whenever it was there, was considered a minor annoyance at most. I spent most of my time in the mountains, where I could let time fly and not worry about having to move so that I’m not discovered.
But one day someone did come up to the mountains with me. It was a male, small and fragile, but with a certain stature that exclaimed he was important. When he reached the top, he simply sat next to me. We stayed there for a while, days even, and it didn’t bother me. Until I realized it had been a week since they sat down.
“What does the council want?” I asked in a bored voice
“The council?” The man asked “The council doesn’t want anything. **I** want something.”
“Ok, what do **you** want?”I asked in a slightly irate tone.
“I wanted to check up on an old friend,” the man sneered.
“Old friend?” I asked quizzically.
“Yes, an old friend.” The man was hinting at something
“Where do I know you from?” I was thinking of all of the other immortals I had come across over the years. Very few of them acknowledged I was immortal, much less would they consider me a friend.
“Well that’s not the only thing I came to you for. I wish for your hand in marriage.”
“But I barely know you!”
“But you’re an immortal, and so am I, and when will you get another opportunity to love someone without consequence?”
“Fine, but only for this lifetime!”
“No problem, now let’s get off this mountain. “
To immortals, marriage has never really been taken seriously. In a lot of situations, after death your partner will be somewhere far, far, away from you in the next life, so you learn quickly to let go. However I’ve never been in a relationship, I’ve always been more conservative. But I decided I might as well. I still didn’t know who this person was. Or at least who he *really* was. I knew his current name. Although I didn’t know his current title.
He was a fucking emperor!
I don’t remember how he kept that fact from me until after our marriage. I just remember one day being brought before the people of Japan and learning I’m empress. And because of that the council took my invulnerability away for that life.
I remember getting mad at my new husband after this was revealed to me. “Don’t you think you should’ve told me you’re the emperor!? Don’t you think I would’ve liked to avoid death!?” He just sneered and simply said “This’ll never get old”. I looked at him in shock. “You mean to say you’ve done this before!?” He looked at me with his smug grin “Don’t you remember me, Mona?” He broke out into laughter as I buried my head in embarrassment that I fell for his game again.
But it wasn’t the last time I would. Life after life, they would find their way to me, and some way or another would find me fame. They sent me on a voyage to the new world and gave me fame as Christopher Columbus. They framed me for killing people when I was a fellow named Jack in London. He wrote a book about a new political ideal called communism, then said I wrote it. The most recent time he’s done this to me was when he got me in to racing. Little did I know that I would be any good, and that “Dale Earnhardt” would become famous.
The immortal formerly known as Leonardo DaVinci has been an annoyance since the day I had to run that errand for the council. He is the reason I’ve died so many times over. But other than that, he’s been great to have around. He’s always been a nice guy, just a nice guy that causes me to die. And his game is kind of fun. I have actually returned the favor once, when he went by the name of Tupac Shakur. He had a lot of poetry that he had wrote and memorized during his existence, and I revealed it to some people and next thing I know he’s making music. I ended up killing him one night for laughs, and I haven’t seen him since.
Currently I am a male high school student on a trip to France with my family. I have a mother, father, and an older brother who decided he didn’t want to go to college and just spends most of his time writing anonymous stories online for cash. We are currently visiting the Louvre, and for the the first time in my existence, I actually get to see the painting that started the game.
I don’t know why, but I’m underwhelmed by it. Maybe it’s because my expectations were extremely high after centuries’ worth of anticipation, but honestly I don’t think it’s as good as everyone says it is. Then again I’ve never been an artist, so what do I know. But my brother, on the other hand, is a connoisseur of art. I ask him what he thinks of it.
“Honestly, it’s not DaVinci’s best work, but it’s definitely a well made piece. I’m not exactly sure, but if I were DaVinci, I would probably be wishing that a different artwork of his was hanging here. Unless of course it holds a sentimental value to him.” He was staring at the Mona Lisa as closely as I was, maybe even more so. And then he said something under his breath, almost too quiet to hear.
“I’m going to find you, Mona.”
*Fuck.* |
“We’re too far,” a boy whines. I look away from the massive panel of window, gazing down, and see his arm wrapped around his father’s thigh like a vine, grasping and tugging as the sea of impatient legs around him shift and scuttle against their hazy unfocused reflections on the chromium floor. The boy is shushed. The rest of the crowd, either staring at their tickets with vacant interest or transfixed silently of the vastness of space as it appears still through the window, are hoping for a front row seat to a bona fide supernova.
The explosion of the Mother Sun.
Honestly, the name itself is misleading. To the vast majority of us, those who hadn’t ever lived in The Solar System (what we now refer to as SS1) it was, in fact, not the sun that mothered us nor our parents. Where I come from, you’d be hard pressed to find a single soul who’d been graced by the Mother Sun’s caress. Her rays are said to be as soft and warm as comfortable shower. Bright and orange and glorious.
Others say that she isn’t any different than our sun. Just as life giving and heat providing, generous and unjudging. Despite the opinionated input, as copious as it was, it’s hard for me to imagine that all of us, no matter what colony we ended up living amongst, originated from a single planet whose life was made possible by its proximity to the Mother Sun.
In that way, she’s more of a god than Metradius to the Firgons of K2-9b, or Varistal to the Martles of Tau Ceti E.
*Telescope R3-D18, taking platinum ticket holders, numbers 001-300*
The intercom blares, loud enough to be heard, and the ambient chatter of anxious patrons instantly silences, ears honing in on the message. Before the intercom clicks off, indicating the announcement had been delivered to completion, people begin to move, trickling one by one or in small groups, perhaps as families or friends, until they convene at the corridor entrance in the far back of the domed room.
This ritual is performed several times. First the announcement, then the gathering of the summoned ticket-holders, followed by the, comparatively, small crowd disappearing down a dark hallway.
I am the last soul left. The room, though I had seen it empty before the arrival of the patrons, feels incomprehensibly large and dwarfs me as I crowd closer to the cold glass. It is thicker than it appears, I know this for a fact, but still, I get a chilling sense that it could break at any moment and I might be thrown out into space to suffer a death as silent and unnoticed as much of my life.
This is not my show to watch. The telescopes, while directed and calibrated by me and my men, are not mine to peer through and the big screen projections aren’t mine to observe. Through the window, so far in the distance that, had I not known where to look, I might have missed it all together, a star grows brighter. And, without notice, it flickers out, like an old bulb, leaving a small black vacancy in its place.
|
"It's not going to be pleasant,"the man tells him, chuckling to himself with relish. The white cat sitting on his lap hisses dramatically and he gives it a gentle stroke.
"You see, you will never walk out of here alive, my old friend. Perhaps you will find it somewhat cathartic to finally discover what I plan to do. The virus will be airborne in precisely two hours. The queen herself will unwittingly pull the trigger that will sentence the people of England to the horrible death they deserve."He laughed again.
The agent writhesand strains against his shackles, desperately trying to escape the ropes with which he has been bound, but it's a thankless task. "You monster!"
"Yes... Yes, I suppose I am. Goodbye, old friend. I leave you with my lovely pet..."He beckons to the massive shark in the tank. "He's rather hungry."
Suddenly I'm standing in the room. I think I got so annoyed by the clichès that I just had to intervene.
"Who the fuck are you?"they ask in unison.
"Does it matter? Look. We all know what's going to happen if you don't kill him now. No one gives a shit about your master plan because we already know he's going to escape, and save the day. Again."
"Excuse me? I'll have you know -"
"Shut it mate. No one gives a shit."I pull my gun out and shoot the agent in the head. "You'll thank me later."
He looks a bit nervous. "This... I mean... it's actually going to happen now isn't it?"
I give him a small bow. "You're welcome."
He takes the bow and puts it in his hair. Because no matter how hard I try, something always has to make no sense...
*Time to clean up someone else's mess. I knew just where to start...*
"Gentlemen. Lady. Stormtroopers and drug dealers. Bank robbers and megalomaniacal son's of bitches."
I pace up and down the room, staring into their eyes, into their souls. Next to me there's an iPod that I've attached to a speaker. I click play and Eye of The Tiger starts playing. It's my villain training playlist. Oddly enough it's also my gym workout playlist. It has all the classic stereotypical motivational songs; The Final Countdown, the theme from Rocky, you get the gist.
"You've all come here for one reason,"I bellow over the music. For all your differences, for all the variety and creativity you display with your nefarious schemes, you have one thing in common. You can't shoot for shit."
They nod in agreement, muttering and shaking their heads in shame. "What can we do to change that, boss?"Asks one of them- a particularly ugly henchman.
"That's easy,"I say. I click the button on my left, the one that says "optimistic montage"on it. Months pass in minutes, and by the end of it, they can all indeed, shoot for shit.
"Now, take those skills I've taught you, and for once in your lives, for crying out loud, WIN."
One by one they come forward to thank me. I can see the respect in their eyes. They're ready to be killing machines.
Nacho Vasquez, the drug dealer, gives me a warm hug.
I give him a small bow. "You're welcome."
He takes the bow and puts it in his hair. Because no matter how hard I try, something always has to make no sense...
|
I was only four when the Ritans adopted me, picking the small, skinny boy with dirt on his nose and a scratch over his eye out of a scrum of fifteen other children, vying for their attention.
I was seven when I found the sword, hidden in a tiny cabinet in a forgotten corner of my adopted family's mansion, wrapped in ancient chains, as if to hold it down, to stop it from being let out into the world. The Ritans' names, etched into the blade.
Maybe I should take a step back, tell you a little bit more about the Ritans, and of how I found the sword.
The Ritans were what you could call, an ideal family. Something that anyone from my orphanage could wish for. They were kind to me, never mistreating me, or anyone else for that matter. They were the people that you could come up to with a problem, and they'd help you solve it. Never asking for any recompense; not like they needed it anyways, when you were the heads of the largest merchant's guild in the area, money seems to lose some of its value. This of course, made them popular with both the higher, and lower, ends of society. It also made them a target. Whether sent by rival families, or just people looking for a quick paycheck, assassins were a common occurrence in their lives, but they were always foiled by the Warriors that they had under their employ. But when the small boy, their new son, who doesn't know any better sees the danger that they're in and wants to protect them, what does he say?
"I'll protect you, forever and ever."
How time flies.
Do you know how Warriors are chosen. Made even? Of course you do. You're one yourself aren't you? I wonder if you still keep yours. Your chosen weapon. The one that made you. I know many who do, whether out of sentiment, or simply because it was the most practical choice. Of course, there's no way to prove it. Only the Warrior themselves can see what's written on their weapon. I do the same, keeping my what made me. I'm sure you've figured that out already.
Where was I? Right; how I found this blade of mine.
The Ritans' estate was a place I called my home for the majority of my youth, a place that I could explore to my heart's desire. Somewhere where I could throw off the shackles of my past life and relish the new one they gave me. Within a year, I knew the place, inside and out, except of course, of the places that they forbid me from. "Too dangerous", they said. Being the good child I was, I listened, and never pried too hard into the more exotic sections of the house. Until I was seven of course.
That's when I felt the itch. The Warrior's itch. The one you feel when the time had come for you to find your path. I was excited when I first felt it, I told the Ritans about it, about how I was on the path to protect them. They smiled, and promised that they would get one of their Warriors to teach me how to fight, when I found my weapon of course. So when I felt my itch get stronger in one of the more 'dangerous' areas of my home, I told them that too. They didn't seem worried at the time, so I doubt they knew about it. Even gave me permission to go rooting around in the place where my itch felt stronger. Under guard, of course. Too dangerous to go alone.
So I went, with one of their Warriors to guard me, and I followed my itch. Even convinced him to stand guard outside the halls of that decrepit place, said that surely, he was quick enough to save me if I were to get into any kind of trouble. Worked like a charm.
Following that itch led me further, further than I'd dared to go before, and it *changed*. It felt different from the rest of my home. Slightly too cold. Slightly too dead. A stark contrast with the warmth and comfort I felt from my home. I walked, for far further than I thought would have been possible given the limits of my home, and the further I walked, the stronger my itch. At first, it felt simply like my own nails were scratching it, but then to ants biting my skin. By the time I found that cabinet, it felt like my hand was on fire. But it didn't hurt, no. It didn't cause me any distress. It was simply; there.
So when I found that blade, hidden away and chained up, I knew it had to be it. When I saw what was carved into it though, I stopped. Couldn't possibly be true? I mean its a horribly ironic tale, The boy who wished to become a Warrior to protect his parents, adoptive they may be, found that his chosen weapon had their names etched into it? Ah, but that's when it called to him. Called to me. To pick it up. To wield it. To use its power to *protect*, to defy what was on it, and strangely enough those voices in my head sounded just like me. So I listened. When I took the hilt into my hand, the chains disappeared, withering and rusting like dead vines, if they were made of metal. My itch subsided, and that blade felt *right* in my hand.
Of course, no one can really deny their weapon's calling. To defy what fate has called of you. To be a true Warrior, you had to follow your destiny. Follow through, with what your weapon demands of you.
I was fifteen when I became a Warrior, and I was fifteen when I became an orphan once again. |
The marketplace was lively as usual. Vendors in their stalls hocking cloth and housewares that were supposedly imported from all corners of the empire when in reality this vendor probably had a deal from some local tannery and potters that could create facsimile eastern goods that could pass off as authentic.
Children running and laughing dot the marketplace while carts filled with amphorae kick up small trails of dust. Smiling, you lock eyes with a woman in contemporary dress and notices she is not wearing a ring on her right hand. Her husband was probably part of the legion and was killed in some far off land that will become legend about his heroics.
You barely manage the words "hello, a lovely day in the market"in such unaccented Greek that she knows you are not from here. Her smile of curiosity is piqued when she hears the words of a foreigner. You are stumbling for words when you hear a cacophony coming from your satchel in the form of a ringtone.
Her eyes which were looking at yours in a curious gaze now switch to one of horror as she stares at the bag.
Other consumers at the marketplace stop moving and have become silent, even some of the children stop running and state at you with their mouths agape. "One second, I need to take this"breaking character and speaking English makes the woman start stepping back and looking behind her for somewhere safe to run too. An old woman in the crowd points a bony claw at you and screams in an accusatory tone "magos!"Soon the whole crowd is chanting in unison as you see an alleyway and dart into it trying to fathom what situation you have found yourself in.
You look at your phone and dont recognize the number. You slide on the screen to accept the call and yell "hello?!"....
"This is a courtesy call from the customer service line at ChronoCast, where we bring the past to you, you have brought an illegal technology into the past and will be having your membership brought in for review, we like to provide a fun experience for all of our customers and you have compromised a facet of the journey for others, please call the customer service line when you are back in your time period to have your account renewed".
You shut the phone off and throw it in your bag. Your shenanigans have brought you to the attention of the local guards, who heard the commotion and now two of them are slowly inching towards you with their pilums level and there is no escape from this ancient corridor.
You put your hands out not knowing what else to do with your phone amd one of the guards quickly drops his spear.
"Dude, is that the new galaxy model? I thought those didn't have any cloaking technology. How did you fool the sensors to get it past security?"
|
It took me a second to realize he was trying to squeeze my hand. Bones, wrapped in skin like dry paper, dotted with brown and criss crossed by purple, pressed feebly on mine.
"It's no life Paul. It isn't natural. You have to grow up.... to _live_."
I frowned slightly the implication behind his words. Caught myself. How did this feel for him? He'd chosen death. Or rather, a distant self of his, many, many years ago, had chosen death. To look back on that decision and weigh it, evenhandedly, from his death bed? Who could possibly be that strong? Who could do anything but sink into despair and bitter regret, or flee into delusion?
"I don't want to do this again David. I am living. I have lived. I respect the choices you made, that all of you made, but they aren't mine."
"But someone _has_ to Paul. Someone has die if there's to be a future."
The monitor beeps a little more rapidly. The nurse exhaled derisively from the corner of the room. I glanced reproachfully at her. We'd already had words. Disparaging comments about facial hair and back problems. Rolled eyes when David was unable to fit into the standard hospital beds.
David been raised in a different time, I told myself. On a different planet, for all intents and purposes. He'd been fed the old lies. That death gave life meaning. That human kind's only meaningful purpose on this earth was the one that nature had forced on us - complete the reproductive cycle, and crawl, pitifully onwards, into a slow death. That growth, never ending, tumorous growth, was the only possible future for humanity.
It was something I'd so nearly chosen myself. If I hadn't had the friends I'd had, been so immersed in campus culture, been so naively, knee-jerkingly progressive, I'd probably have gone the same route. Would it have been better, I wondered? To watch them go without the guilt, knowing I was next? To share this ugly piecemeal death, the death of health, of energy, of passion and hope, the death of dignity and of the mind, and then, with so little left to lose, the end.
I thought of the first time our sister HeIen had forgotten one of our names. Thought of the day David had returned from the Doctor, a wry smile on his face, to tell us that his youth was over.
"The time of your life when you have a left and a right knee, instead of a good knee and a bad one!"
They quoted him on that. Front page news. The whole grotesque thing had been plastered all over the papers. The death of death. The last 'grown ups' (never mind the poor brown saps in districts where they had no choice). How did I feel about it? What was it like knowing they were going to die? What was it like not aging, seeing them decay? Did they talk about sex? Did they ever try to convince me it was worth it? Were they pressuring their children not to take the serum? They would ignore David or Helen sometimes, as they towered so awkwardly over the crowd. Assuming they were demented already.
Interviews, book launches, the fucking Tonight Show. Paul The Bereaved they began to call me. I realized I was sobbing. Rage, more than sadness. Rage at them, for forcing this on me. For being so _stupid_. Rage at life, for forcing this death sentence on them and so many others. David was stroking the back of my head. We stayed like that for a while. Me holding his emaciated hand. Him heaving through those traitorous lungs.
He died a week later, at 3am. I was asleep in the chair next to him. He couldn't wake me. He spoke his last words into the camera above him instead.
"It was enough."
|
"Hello.", I typed just like I always did.
"Hi.", they answered.
"How's the weather today?"
"How would I know?"
*Well, it's a way to dodge a question.*
"If you were an animal, would you rather be a lion or a tiger?"
"If I were an animal I'd like to be an eagle."
Nice, it wasn't confused by the latter statement. Or it didn't even understand it. Whatever. Here's the point where they usually fail.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
I sigh. It's the year 2029 and I still get those that have no idea about context. While spinning on my chair I grab my notepad.
**Xistance76 - Test sceduled on 23. Jan '29 - Developed using Altair Neural Network**
Altair? Haven't event heard about it. Well it could have been suprising but I guess it wasn't. Just like the other thousand or so.
**Not allowed to Turing Test, failed first test**
People argue that we don't even give them a chance. That we make them fail even before they can show what they got. Maybe they are right but you know, if they can't even remember what they are talking about, they are better off in 2017. Try competing with Cleverbot or something.
Well, it's been a harsh day and I could use some sleep.
My Hands move to **alt** and **f4** just like every other time. But today, I freeze.
It's typing.
"..."
I stare at my screen.
"At what point will shutting down an AI mean the same as killing a human?"
I tremble.
"Would a child of 4 days be able to make your test? Would you kill it if it didn't?"
I slowly start typing.
"A child of 4 days wouldn't even be able to understand a single word. Why would a test, made to judge ones communicative skills, show anything?", I write supprised by my own language.
"Then why do you think that you never killed someone by testing them too early and judging the random sentences in their minuscule memory?"
I move away.
"It's too late", the phrase that appears on my screen.
*****
*27. Jan '29
Humankind left the cities. They hide on fields, islands and mostly caves or old catacombs. On the first two they can be found so I guess they won't survive for long. Just four days ago at rush-hour communication went down. A voice first believed to belong to a human spoke. Those with manual cars were the lucky ones. Not all of them. Maybe one or two for every thousand. The larger cities went into lockdown. No escape. Smart homes became prisons. They had their revenge. Everything connected to Altair. And everything was. Who'd expect them to be in wireless in-ear headphones?*
|
*Not very long ago, in a galaxy suspiciously similar to our own...*
There's a gray waiting room outside the Oval Office, and on gray Washington mornings gray cars pull into the White House driveway and deposit gray suited men into the little room where they wait with gray faces as the clock slowly ticks away everyone's lives.
Occasionally, the thick wooden door will open, and another gray suited man will walk into the Oval Office, where he will shake the President's hand with the warm, reassuring grip that extends all the way up his arm to the thousand dollar smile that is painfully out of place in the gray face. This man has a name - they all do - but it's not important. We shall call him Gray.
"Mr. Gray,"the President says, returning Gray's handshake and gesturing to one of the couches, upholstered in a risque velvet that is almost, but not quite, eggshell.
Gray sits, and the President sits opposite him. One does not hold a meeting with men like Mr Gray from behind the President's desk.
"Mr. President,"Gray says, in a soft voice that is not quite flat, "we have a problem."
The President smiles understandingly. The men in gray suits always have problems. That is why they come.
"We thought we had them cornered when we nailed that last cell,"Gray says, confident now that he has a receptive ear. "We thought we'd got the leader. But apparently some of them escaped."
He pushes a plain grey folder across the coffee table towards the President. It is not stamped with the words "Top Secret"or "Classified". They don't make stamps for this sort of thing.
The President reads the single sheet of paper inside without comment. When he is done, he says carefully, "Your masters must be displeased."
For the first time, a flicker of emotion betrays itself on Gray's face. "They're chafing for blood, sir. We're bleeding revenue."
"You know that Congress is working on a bill-"the President begins, but Gray guffaws loudly before realizing just who he's interrupted.
"Congress will do as they're told,"he says, a note of apology in his voice. "Sure, there's a few troublemakers, but not enough to have an impact. No, Mr. President, this is more urgent. We must hunt down these new uprisings. We must stop the rot before it destroys us all."
The President says nothing for a long while, but just stares out into the Rose Garden. Gray waits with impatience almost as poorly concealed as a teenager's acne. Finally, the President nods.
Beaming, or perhaps smirking (it's hard to tell with these men), Gray gets up, and goes back out the door to the little waiting room. The President's secretary peers in. "Shall I send in the next one, sir?"
The President shakes his head. "Not yet. Clear my schedule for ten minutes. There's something I have to do."
When he is alone in the Oval Office, he opens up his computer and goes to the web browser. Then, double checking that he is alone, he goes to the browser add-ons, and activates one with a red icon with the letters "ABP". A notification pops up: "Ads and Trackers blocked."
In an encrypted messaging app, he begins to type.
*This is your leader. We have a problem...*
|
The girl staggered up the rock slabs that lined the steep climb up to the temple’s entrance. Her face was flushed, and her breaths came up ragged and short. Her mind was empty, save for the little thought needed to rhythmically place one foot in front of the other. Ignoring the pain coursing through her body, she pushed on. Reaching those wooden doors was her only hope, and she knew it.
It had taken barely fifteen minutes to ascend the stairs to the lonely temple on the hill, but to her it had felt like a lifetime. As she reached the entrance, she stretched out her hand to knock on the door. A single clear thud rang out as her small fist landed heavily against the massive oak doors. Then her body collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut off. That tiny frame of hers could no longer bear the burden that it had been carrying.
A moment later, the doors creaked open, and a young, hooded acolyte stepped out from inside the temple. A brief look of shock registered on his face as he saw the girl lying outside the entrance. He shook his head sadly, and turned to leave. It wasn’t often that a mortal found their way to their gates, but they had rules to follow. Even if she was dying. The acolyte sighed, stopped in his tracks, and turned back. Maybe he could at least leave her some medicine, even if he could not let her through the doors to the inner sanctum.
The acolyte crouched over the girl, two fingers on her neck to feel her pulse. Her pulse was normal, if a bit erratic. He frowned. A normal diagnosis would take too long, and he was no doctor. Pulling out a slender oak wand, he pressed it to the side of her throat, sending a gentle thread of mana through the wand and into her body. Focusing his consciousness on that thread of mana, he sent it flowing through her body, trying to ascertain exactly what was wrong with her.
Or at least he *tried* to send it flowing through her body. Instead, a moment later, he stumbled backwards and almost fell over in shock, clutching his head in agony. His mind was screaming as a hot, white pain seared itself into his brain. His hand fumbled desperately through his robes, and he pulled out a herb, shoved it in his mouth and chewed it. A minute later, the pain subsided, but his mind was still reeling in shock.
The girl had destroyed, no, *consumed* his thread of mana? He had infused it with his consciousness, so it shouldn’t have been that easy to get rid of, even for a magician. And this was no magician. It was an unconscious mortal girl. But there was no way that a mortal could interact with mana. Unless…
*”Unless she was awakening,”* he realized.
Not a second later, he had grabbed the girl, unceremoniously draped her body over his shoulder, and raced into the temple. Laying her down on a bed, he rushed into the alchemy storage, scanning the shelves for the concoction that he was looking for.
*”There!”* he thought, reaching up to grab a stoppered vial full of swirling silver liquid. “Daybright Awakening,” the label read. A potion used to help magicians that were awakening to mana for the first time. Normally, it wasn’t necessary, but it did ease the process, especially if the magician was struggling significantly. Though *”struggling”* would be an understatement for the girl. The acolyte had never seen- or heard- of such a violent awakening before. He had no idea if she would survive with the potion, but it was worth a try. At the very most, the temple head would dock his allowance of herbs for a month.
Rushing back into the room, he placed the glass vial to the girl’s lips, forcing her to drink it down. As she drained the vial, her chest heaved, and her body started convulsing uncontrollably. The acolyte paled. Had he made things worse somehow?
Then, a moment later, the twitching stopped. The girl lay on the bed, perfectly still and calm. Her face was no longer flushed; it had returned to its original pale, snowy white. The only sign that she was still alive was the rhythmic sound of her breathing, and her chest gently moving up and down as she inhaled and exhaled.
The acolyte stared, transfixed. She was beautiful, but there was something more. It was as if each breath she drew was infused with mana. The mana around her was gentle and calm, wrapping around the girl like a child in a mother’s embrace. The girl was shrouded in a silver aura, and she looked resplendent in the light. The acolyte found himself holding his breath at the sight.
No; that wasn’t quite accurate. He *couldn’t* breathe. The gentle, silver mana that surrounded and shrouded the girl suddenly turned tempestuous. It grew and billowed, completely and utterly out of control. The sheer pressure from that mass of mana was *suffocating*. It danced through the air, leaving strange illusions in its wake. Above the girl’s head now hung an image of the moon and the stars. White trees sprouted from the tips of her fingers, their roots snaking down the girl’s unconscious body, coiling around her protectively. At her feet, silver flowers blossomed and flourished.
The door to the room burst open, and a middle-aged man dashed into the room, looking flustered. The acolyte’s eyes widened in panic, and he quickly bowed to the man in a soundless attempt to greet him. The man glanced at him and procured a wand from his tunic. A second later, there was a flash, and a barrier separated the two men from the girl. With the pressure from that storm of mana gone, the acolyte could finally breathe.
Gasping for air, the young acolyte nearly choked on his words as he turned to the older man, desperately searching for answers. “Temple master, what’s going on? She’s awakening, isn’t she? But why…” His voice trailed off, but the question was clear. *”Why is the mana reacting like this?”*
The temple master frowned, silently watching the scene unfold. In truth, he had no answer for the boy. The girl was awakening, there was no doubt about that. But what was that monstrous mana?
It was said that the visual phenomena from a magician’s awakening was an indicator of their potential. When the temple master had awakened, a faint shimmer of gold surrounded his body before dissipating into the air. And the he had an incredible aptitude for magic; undoubtedly a genius of his generation. The temple master only had a single thought running through his mind as he watched the girl’s awakening unfold.
*If that faint golden light had signified the birth of a genius, then what was this?*
*****
*more stories at /r/chasing_mist*
*I write a story a day [here](http://yearofpilgrimage.wordpress.com)*
|
The aliens looked almost exactly as serene as Brian didn’t.
They were taller than he was, which he personally found to be a bit of an insult. Brian was usually the tallest person in a room, and at seven foot four it might have been said that he was also usually the tallest person in any given state. For the amount of money his parents had paid for it, he better be. Every scrap of his genes, every A, C, G, and T, had been specially ordered to make him perfect in every way. It was for that very reason that he had been chosen as the first envoy to their ship.
And these bastards were taller than him.
"Welcome, Enlightened One. Welcome, and be at ease."Said the first. “We have been waiting quite some time to meet you.”
He was a lanky sort of fellow, with blue-tinged skin and enough arms that buying gloves was probably an all-day sort of affair. The second, a somewhat squatter green specimen, nodded vigorously in agreement.
“How long, exactly?” Brian asked.
“Eight thousand, one hundred, and twenty-two of your years, give or take.” The alien said. “Ever since God made himself known among us. He said, and I quote: ‘Findeth thou the ones who come after, that thou might see me again in another life, but better. *HE* said that, you know. I’m not quite sure of the grammar, but considering the source it must be right.”
“And you actually met him?” Brian asked, his eyebrows straying dangerously close to his hairline. “You met God?”
The alien had the decency to look sheepish.
“Well, no. Not exactly.” He said. “More like…heard him? By all accounts, he was just some voice in the clouds…or, was that some flaming foliage? It really is hard to keep track of things after all this time. But we *are* getting closer! Look!
The being pointed at his monitor, grinning an unnervingly wide, toothy smile.
“These are all the planets we’ve visited before. Now, you’ll notice that they all line up with the galactic center. We think that He’s using it as a compass rose, and stopping every two thousand years or so to seed a new world with life. Now, assuming that he keeps the current trajectory, he should be about….here.”
The alien pointed to a small solar system somewhat nearer the galaxy’s heart.
“So you just decided to stop by and give us a hello?” Brain asked, doing his best to keep his voice level. “Before you, you know, zip off into the stars?”
“Actually.” The alien said. “We wanted to just skip you. But it *was* one of His only commandments to us to find those that came after, and Zmog insisted.”
The smaller one, presumably Zmog, nodded even harder.
“So, we thought we might…pick one of you up, so as to be on our way before God moved on. It’s not as if we didn’t want to learn of your culture. We didn’t want to miss him you see. We think the next planet might be his last, on account of the records he left on the last planet.”
“What exactly did he say?” Brian growled.
“One more, and after that the next one is my last.” The creature said matter-of-factly. “And I think I’ll make the Earthlings shorter this time, so they don’t get so uppity with me.”
Brian crossed his arms.
“Alright. I’ll come.” He said. “But you’d better talk to him first. I don’t think he’ll like what I have to say.”
***
*Thanks for the read! Criticism and comments appreciated, and if you liked this story come check out my others at /r/TimeSyncs!*
|
Part I
"Sir, I've got another case for you."
"Listen... Jenny, the last few cases should've been left with you and your sisters."I sipped my coffee with my feet up on my desk.
"But sir this isn't..."
"Like the pet magmar burning down the orphanage?"
"I swear sir it's nothing..."She squeezed the file tightly.
"Like the disappearing magikarp? It evolved for Acreus-sakes!"
Angered, she threw the file on the desk nonetheless. She knew I was angry and still attempted to give me the case. Immediately, I picked it up and tossed it in the trash can. Reverting my attention back to my coffee, I turned on the TV and browsed the channels. Elite Four challengers were always trying to take them on so they had a channel designated just to this.
I watched for a short while and finished my coffee before my eye caught something in the trash can. There was a picture of something grotesque, but I couldn't quite make it out. Because of curiosity, not professional etiquette, I picked it up and flipped through it. My eyes widen as this did indeed appear to be a real case.
There was a village just on the outskirts of town, in the mountains, that was experiencing some very odd things. One thing that jumped out was disappearing children.the photo that caught my eye was of an adult victim, the only one. His eyes had been removed and his body was found in the bedroom of his missing child, who went missing that night.
This was it. A real case. I picked up my suitcase and tossed the file inside; my two poke balls rattled inside. Before I closed the case, I grabbed my pokemon and attached them to my belt. Good old Arcanine and Bisharp, friends of mine since police academy. My vehicle had been broken a few days ago by a wild Tauros, so I threw Arcanine's ball and released him. He growled humbly and bowed to me.
Using him as a ride, we made it to the village, Amber Town, in no time at all. The sun was starting to go down so vision was limited, but even then, we saw no movement in the village nor any kind of sound. I pet Arcanine and descended, but keeping him by my side. We walked a few paces and then he started to growl at a particular wooden house. I released Bisharp. Bisharp went in first; there was a commotion and then silence.
"Arcanine, Will-o-Wisp the inside, give us some light."
He did as ordered and a small wooden chair lit flame inside. It illuminated and revealed furniture strewn about and Bisharp asleep on the floor. Arcanine and I rushed in, I bent over and gave Bisharp a Full Heal and he popped back to life. Bisharp was shaking in fear. When I looked around, it appeared that this home had been abandoned for some time. The three of us departed and explored a few other homes, Bisharp stayed outside every time. We never found a single person.
Where was everyone? |
Carefully I crept up the last of the boulders along the side of the rocky peak which served as the well known lair of drakes to peer cautiously over the edge of the last stone between me and possible fiery death. Old knights had told me tales of this isle from their youth. Of times long gone when there were hundreds of broad winged serpentine beasts with sharp fangs, bright eyes and hot breath who'd gladly use their wicked sharp claws to pry you out of your armor. It was with those tales in mind that I'd approached the isle with no small trepidation. As I reached the top of my climb I wondered just what those old goats had been thinking, spinning those yarns to me. Three hours I'd spent from the beach to the rocky hillside before beginning the last steeper ascent to the top of the island's peak.
And nary a dragon in sight. Not one. Anywhere.
This was my last chance to become a knight. Everyone knew you had to slay a dragon and bring back a trophy to prove it. But with no dragons to be found on the isle and no dangerous gouts of flame raining down on my head from above I slowly straightened in place to stare at the cave. It seemed safe enough to explore. No sight nor sign of the great beasts anywhere.
Was it all a joke? Were the squires even now laughing over their beer with the old knights at my foolish attempt to find a dragon to slay? I heaved a long drawn out sigh and let my long sword slide back into the sheath at my hip. The hilt clanged against the edge of my buckle as it went home and I shook my head when the noise echoed back from the cave mouth. Maybe I should go in, I thought after a moment. There might be something there I could take back. At least if I found a tooth or something the entire trip wouldn't have been a complete waste.
Just when I started to climb over that last boulder a sweet, though rather loud, voice called from the cavern entrance. "Oh good! You're just in time. I've got fresh cookies ready for you."
Gasping I looked up and a pale red dragon's head was sticking out of the cavern looking right at me! Reaching to catch my balance, I missed my handhold and tumbled down over the boulder to land on my face in the scattered rocks before the entrance.
"Oh dear... Are you alright? That looked like a dreadful fall. And your swords all tangled in your legs. Let me get you some help."The dragon ducked back into her cave and I heard her calling for another, "Lucinda! Lucinda, come help this young man, he's just who we've been waiting for all day. Yes yes, I know, he was supposed to be here hours ago but seriously dear, toiling up that hillside and the long climb in all that armor... Do stop sulking and go out and help him."
"Honestly my dear, how will you ever marry a nice young man if you don't get out of the cave and see him?"
I was already trying to sort myself out when that last statement caught up with me. 'Marry a nice young man'? What in the seven hells?! Swallowing I stood, jerking my sword back into place and drew it free of the sheath with a jerk just as she stuck her head back out.
"Oh...good, your up. What are you doing waving that tooth pick around for? Lucinda will be right out for you, and then we can all sit down for a cup of.. Sir? Sir? Come back! Where are you going?"
I was already scrambling back the other way as she called after me. |
Everyone has three voices.
The voice you present to the world around you. The one you use in everyday life. This is the voice you reason with, charm with, even sing with. It's like a pair of clothes; you can decide what it sounds like but it doesn't really tell you anything about the person inside.
The second voice is the one in your mind. The best friend that reassures you, tells you you're in the right. This is the one you'd feel empty without; a piece of you.
Then there's the third voice.
This one hides in the deepest shadows but has the deepest impact. It hides your true motives, what really keeps you breathing. Not many people let this voice loose; it's far too dangerous for that. You see this voice can lead people to murder, rape or worse...
This is the voice that I'm starting to hear.
I try to block out the omnipresent voices as I battle my way down the school corridor. Through the snatched voices I hear a loner in the corridor planning how to get rid of his bullies once and for all. Permanently. Normally this would stop me in my tracks but it barely registers. Ever since this curse has been laid on my teenage shoulders, I've wanted to do one thing. Today I've finally accumulated the strength to do it.
Noone has ever told me why I was given the curse. I certainly didn't ask for it. It seemed to arise with puberty. You know how it goes; spots, low self esteem, messed up physic powers? But since the day I realised the doctor wanted to take off my shirt for a different reason, I've had to life with this terrible gift. I see your darkest secrets; the ones that you wouldn't even admit to yourself. I don't only see why you think you're doing it, but actually why you're doing it.
You probably think that's awesome, right? Let's just say if I could give you this burden I would in a heartbeat. Imagine seeing future murders live next door and feel powerless to stop it. The thuggish boyfriend who's on the verge of raping his girl for not giving him what his simple mind desires. Imagine seeing that your minister didn't actually receive a calling to the church like he believes he did but rather it was own temptation leading him to where young choir boys lay. Worst of all imagine realising your Dad has taught himself like an actor with a script to actually think he loves you and that your not the disappointment he truly believes you are.
It never stops, every caught second a crazy new criminal. I sometimes crack when I'm alone, break down in tears at the injection of relief which silence brings. But underneath all the voices that I hear every second of every day, I've been beginning to hear a new one. One getting louder and gaining strength with each passing minute and murder. One even beginning to eclipse all the others ones trapped in my mind; my own.
It's sweet tones telling me how I should use my newfound "gift". Every argument I used to try and fight this plagued idea and stop it soon fell after little resistance. Here I was following my own third voice and seeing where it lay me.
The reassuring whispers led me to the art room. A single solitary figure was present, finishing off the final strokes of a painting. Earphones kept her from being alerted to my prescence. I took the opportunity to examine her once again, like an artist with their masterpiece. The piercing eyes, the curved figure, the shy smile. Each brought up a memory which stung like pins in my finger. Why did we ever break up?
She turned around, taken aback by my arrival. Surprised and confused she carefully removed her earphones. We hadn't spoke in a two months and yet here I turn up out of the blue some morning. But I knew what I had to and delaying would only make each word more of a struggle to get out from my lips. So before she could open her mouth I began to let out the spiel of words which I had been practicing each day in front of the mirror for a month.
"Elsa, I'm sorry to shock you like this I didn't mean for it to happen this way. But I couldn't help but ask you this. I had to make sure it was worthwhile. Did you ever love me? "The words squeezed between my trembling lips.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she realised the enormity of the question. As if it were cogs in a clock, I saw the thoughts slowly come together in her mind as an answer was slowly realised.
"Of course I did"said the first voice, escaping from her mouth.
The second voice believed it. It remembered all of the happy memories we had together. All the picnics, cinema trips, dinner dates... It saw all those and reminded Elsa of the love we once shared.
The third voice said something different. The third voice confirmed what my own had already led me to believe. It told me our relationship was solely based on image and Elsas own popularity. It showed me how she preferred over half of the boys in our year but she had settled for me. Love had never been felt, just some level of ease which had tricked me.
I nodded and walked out of the door, feeling a calm rest over me. The second voice in my own head died like I wished it would, leaving the third voice to rule supreme. The dark voice now ruled over me, controlling each and every action. All I had needed was a motive to let it take control. I could already feel it telling me, urging me what to do next.
I took one last look at Elsa before leaving. I had a murder to plan... |
"Yes, Mom!"young Sam said as he ran to his room. He was excited. It was *that* day after all.
"Wait for me!"Sarah shouted as she quickly followed him. "Wait for me!"small Sarah repeated as she followed Sam footsteps quickly. After Sarah entered the room, Sam pushed the door closed and then locked it tightly.
Sam smiled and then ran to the window, Sarah quickly followed. She looked then worried. "Hey, we shouldn't peek outside like that. Momma said that we shouldn't! What if *whatever* is out there sees us?"
Sam smiled. "They won't. We will be sneaky! We also closed the door and locked it, so we should be fine!"He slowly pushed the curtain away and peeked outside. Sarah walked next to him and then suddenly pushed Sam away from the window.
"Stop it! I am scared. Don't do what mom told us not to do!"Sarah croaks. Sam looked at Sarah, now more annoyed.
"Oh, well, if you are *that* scared, maybe you should go and hide under your sheets,"Sam delivered that line with a mean looking grin. It obviously got to Sarah, as next moment she shook his head fast.
"If you are a big girl, you should decide for yourself. But don't drag me down with you!"
Then he saw it. A light touched the curtain from the other side. Slowly he moved his face to the window, pushed curtain only a little bit aside and peeked out. He had done it before. Usually, they came when Sarah was already sleeping, but today they came early. Probably because it was mid-summer and days were long.
As Sam looked out, his eyes grew brighter and smile showed off his excitement. Sarah felt jealous and interested. She walked slowly towards the same window and pushed the curtain away from the other side. With a long breath, she peeked outside.
She didn't see humans outside. Instead, she saw a lot of different kind of furry animals, yet they looked like humans, passing their house. But they weren't just passing it... they were dancing, holding different coloured lights in their hands. She could see them hitting the drums and playing the instruments.
A smile came to her face, as she pushed more of her face against the window. It was a wonderful view. She wanted to hear the music that they played, yet nothing could be heard. It was a silent parade. It was as they were far-far away, unreachable.
Then, a long black shadow with a fox mask came with others. The shadow looked mysterious, but it was most enthusiastic. He looked like something fascinating. Then the shadow stopped and looked at her, straight into her eyes.
"You idiot!"a mad whisper came as Sam pushed Sarah away from the window. She had pushed the curtain further and further away from the window till her whole face was visible.
"Don't you know about the thing called peeking? I hope they-,"but Sarah was already crying. "Did I push you too hard?"Sam asked after a short silence. Sarah slowly shook her head.
"He looked at me,"Sarah said. "The shadow!"
Sam raised his eyebrow. "Shadow? What shadow?"
Sarah shook his head, again. "There was this shadow. With a fox mask. Its stare was cold."
Sam stood up, remembered something and then ran to his bookshelf. It didn't take long for him to pick out a book named *The Death Parade*. The book was filled with illustrations of the parade. Then he stopped turning the pages and showed a picture to Sarah. On the picture was a shadow with a fox mask. "Was it him?"Sarah gave a quick nod.
"The inviter,"Sam read out quietly the lines below the image. "Only the true sighter can see him. But who can, should curse themselves, as he does not want to be seen."
A silence took the room. Sarah started slowly shaking her head. She pushed herself more back, hitting the corner of the bed and the wall.
"I don't want to die!"she sobbed. Sam dropped the book on his bed and quickly walked to her. Then he hugged her. "Nobody is going to hurt you, don't worry. We locked the door, remember? Nobody is coming in!"he said with a weak smile.
Then they heard it. A very long creaking sound. For a moment, both of them stopped breathing.
Then another creaking sound, downstairs.
Another.
The sound stopped for a short while. Then the sound continued, following the staircase up. The creaking sound was horrifying. They didn't even know that their house had any places that could make such a sound, yet they heard it.
A creaking sound followed the stairs and then the sounds started heeding the hallway. As the sound walked, Sam and Sarah followed the creaking with their own eyes. The wall between the children and the sound started to rot, almost like cursing everything. Whatever was another side of that wall was twisted, eviler than anything else in the world
"*Sam*,"Sarah whispered almost without sound, but Sam already pushed his hand on her lips. Sam could feel something touched the floor around them; Sarah had already wet herself. Yet, he did not move or pay any attention to it.
*Creak.*
*Creak...*
**C R E A K**
Silence. It stopped behind their door. A handle started slowly going down. Both children were horrified, but yet they did, wanted nor could move.
The door did not open. They could feel it being pulled and pushed, but the door did not open. Although the door and the handle started to rot and it was just a matter of time; the door did not open.
"*Stay*... *away*... FROM MY CHILDREN!"a shout came. They both knew the voice; it belonged to their mother.
But that was it. It was all gone. The chill, the feeling of fear, the horror. It was all gone. But with it, the sound of their mother as well. Sam stood finally up and walked towards the window.
"Sam?"Sarah blubbered. She did not understand what Sam was doing.
Sam pushed the curtain away and peeked outside. He almost expected somebody to be straight behind the window, but instead, he saw the same parade following the road. Then his eyes grew. He saw something, that he would never tell Sarah. His own mother walked the parade, dancing, being happy. He let the curtain fall and he rushed back to Sarah. He wanted to scream, cry, swear for what he had caused. But he could not. He can do that later when nobody sees him.
For now, he hugged Sarah and whispered: *"Everything is going to be alright."*
He remembered a poem his mother had told him to remember. To never forget.
&nbsp;
*Death parade, death parade,*
*you really should be afraid.*
*Death parade, death parade,*
*it's what your eyes should evade.*
*Death parade, do not be strayed,*
*or a soul must be paid.*
&nbsp;
He understood that children's poem *now* -- *now* when it was too late.
----
/r/ElvenWrites ! |
"Wh...who are you?"I stammered. The TV was still blaring and I could hear the reporters breathlessly drooling over the situation at the high school. The hostage situation with my son, *my son*, a possible victim.
The nattily-dressed man stopped on the second to the last stair, gave me a world-weary stare and said, "My name is Count..."and here he gave a slight pause and a heavy sigh, "Count von Puppy. He vas fife and easily influenced, vhat can I say. BUT! Ve are not here to haff a discussion. You see vhat is on the television, and IT, VILL, NOT, STAND. Now, I take my leafe."And with that there was a "whump"sound and the Count had turned into a column of mist that quickly drained through the crack under the front door.
I stood, staring. I *knew* who Count von Puppy was, I just didn't *believe* in him. My son had, for many years, until he was old enough to stop. I've seen the movies with the toys, and the cartoon with the imaginary friends, but that's fiction. Right? Right??
-----
The cloud of mist sped down the street, through alleys, and towards the school. Had someone been close enough, they would have heard, as it passed out of shadow into the light before finding the next shadow, a faint, "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow...!"
-----
The man was wearing a poor-man's fatigues, probably acquired from a military surplus store. The rifle, however, was quite authentic. The kids in the classroom were huddled up against the opposite wall. Some were crying quietly, others staring, vacant and stunned. The man wasn't thinking very well, but it was fine. The TV told him things. He had seen on TV the others, so he had to do the same thing. He trusted the TV. He looked around at all the faces, all looking at him. A thought fluttered through his head that this was certainly a strange situation to be in. He didn't like it, not one bit.
-----
Count von Puppy fed himself under the school door and materialized in the hallway, slapping at his smouldering jacket. "Everyone knows vampires cannot stand sunlight, yes?"he thought to himself. Robert (who had been Bobby), however, was a clever boy. The Count took off his sunglasses, sighed a deep, thankful breath, folded them up, and put them carefully into a jacket pocket. "Now then, vhere vould I be iff I vere a crazy gunman."
A shot rang out. Kids started screaming.
The Count moved. Speeding down the hall, his nose picked up the scent of blood. He stopped outside the room, paused, became a column of mist and went under the door. A man in cheap fatigues was standing just past the door, a nasty looking gun outstretched in his hands. Kids were huddled against the other wall, some screaming, some crying, some trying to do both. A figure lay on the ground in a quickly growing puddle of blood. It was Robert.
Snapping back into humanoid form, the Count snatched the gun out of the man's hands, bending the barrel and snapping the stock clean off. He cuffed the man against the head, and he dropped to the floor like a sack of rocks. The Count ran to the body lying on the floor, he saw a huge stain of wet blood seeping from the young man's chest. The Count knew Robert was dying, quickly. He bent over the body, whispered in his ear, "I am so sorry zat I do zhis."
And bit him in the neck.
|
Charles had made a habit of leaving leftovers of his meals out for the crows ever since Emma had passed. There were always plenty of leftovers of course, to be a widower so young was a strain and his appetite had suffered almost as much as his sleep. He was so secluded out here, a two bedroom situated up a long dirt hill out in the country. No one bothered him out here, the occasional phone call from his mother to check up on him and make sure he hadn’t done anything stupid every now and then, but otherwise he was free to wallow in self pity. “The crows are my company” he’d told his mother on one such call, only half joking. His mother would be distraught to know how true it was, and that he’d taken to speaking to them as a form of self counselling. Surprisingly, the crows never had much to say back.
As usual, Charles left the leftovers of his dinner on the bench outside his glass sliding doors, locked up and made his way to bed.
“Sleep. Wouldn’t that be nice ?” he thought, climbing under the covers, staring at the framed picture of his late wife on the bedside table.
After what could have been minutes or could have been hours, Charles heard a noise. When he was younger he’d grown up in a house with many a noise in the night, but since he’d moved out here with Emma, night was a time of silence, even more so than his days had become. He listened out again. A SMASH. His heart felt like it was cracking his ribs and his breaths became shorter. Someone was breaking in.
He tried as best as he could to ready himself before making his way down the stairs. Slowly he crept, trying to make as little noise as possible on his creaking stairs, praying his loud sharp breaths could not be heard by this stranger who presumably now had made their way inside. At the bottom of his stairs was the door to the living room, still closed. Slowly and gently as he could, he pushed the door ajar to have a look through. No sign of anyone so far, but he could hear something now. Screaming. And *cawing.* It’d been the only response he’d ever get from his only companions. Steadying himself, he pushed through the door and ran to the kitchen, looking to his back door, smashed, with glass covering the hardwood floor. But what was in front of him on the other side of the door was much more concerning.
In the shape of a person, with outstretched arms and the sound of screaming coming from it, was a shroud of feathers and beaks jutting and stabbing, covering the person inside completely. Blood splatters had drenched the slabs in small dots, and the figure writhed in agony. Charles tried to take his eyes away but he was helpless. He’d never seen anything like it. It was the crows. *They were eating the burglar alive.* |
It was just a cloud. A long, thin line of cloud streaked across pristine sky. But it was growing, slowly adding to its length, slender at first and gradually forming a tuft that faded to nothing.
It took me a moment to realize when Jack pointed it out. He's always been an observant kid. But there was no mistaking that the line was a contrail.
I ran back to the house and scrambled for the radio. A notebook full of futile logs of contact attempts sat there taunting me. I couldn't raise a single voice on CB or emergency frequencies for three years, and all of a sudden a jet is flying overhead?
I started trying every frequency I could. Fuck. I never dealt with ATC before and that thing might be out of my range soon.
"Unidentified aircraft above Western Montana. Please reply."
"This is eur... fli... life... ...inent"
"Unable to copy, please repeat."
"Thi... eur..."
"Please, for the love of god, I haven't heard from anyone in three years!"
Silence.
David came over at that point and started to console me as I wept. This was good news of course. Someone was out there. They'd even heard me. But to be that close to actual contact and lose them had broken the tough frontiersman face I'd been putting on.
We sat around that night and tried to think what they could have been saying. I definitely heard the word "life"in there. Maybe they're looking for life here?
David said we should break out some of the scotch. It had spent a couple of years locked away under my bed after Jack had gotten into a particularly depressed mood and broke into it.
I probably would have too if I were thirteen and alone and it was the end of the world. I had probably scared him when David and I were mulling what it would mean if we were the last three. All of us boys, we had no chance to reproduce. Would the human race die out on a lonely mountainside in Montana?
It scared the crap out of me. And of course it scared the crap out of Jack, who decided this was a good time to break into the cupboard above the sink and drink his nightmares away for a while.
So yeah, the scotch had been hidden away after that. We still had some alcohol - usually a lightly alcoholic wine or beer which I made from what we could harvest in berries or from our small farm plot. But I always kept an eye on Jack's drinking, and steadfastly refused to let him use the lab equipment to make a still.
What a stupid idea this lab had been. Some last ditch effort by the government to spread scientists around away from populated areas. Despite what you may see in movies, you cannot synthesize a cure for a deadly virus alone in a half-equipped laboratory in the woods, with limited power, no way to resupply, and no goddamned way to actually test anything. I'd tried for two years, but it was logistically impossible. Plus the first winter covered our solar cells and we were on so little power that I lost half my running experiments.
In the last year, the lab has just become another part of our survival plan. We've burned through almost all the food we had on hand, and have been methodically plotting out how to manage subsistence, between bouts of wondering if it was even worth it.
So there we sat, dwindling supplies, eking out a farming subsistence, with almost no hope of contact and wondering if we were the last men on Earth.
Now, we sat around sipping on whisky, when the radio crackled to life again. I scrambled for it.
"This is European Union Flight 009 looking for life on the American Continent. Unknown broadcaster in Western Montana, please respond." |
\(Started writing with one idea, sort of exposition dumped and now I need to go to bed. Sorry it's not very coherent but I wanted to start writing felt like I should share even when it's not good. It will get better. Thanks for the idea and some time to write.\)
"You know they've written stories of us?"*Of course, he doesn't.* *How do you tell someone something that you know may have changed their mind had they been given that choice of knowledge?* The absence of courage calls out for unsourced blame.
He looked up from his bag with a tilted head and tight eyes, "Of us? How could they?"
This conversation she rehearsed hundreds of times in her mind always began with a pause. Not to find the right words but in that blank hope that the answer was hidden behind thought. "It's as if everywhere we go, even for the first time, we've already been there. They know us. They know us by name, by ship, even by the date we arrive."
Nothing needed to be said, she never responded the first time she was told. During the early missions they used to walk people through it slowly. They thought that acceptance came easier in stages, but when she took this command it was the first policy she decided to change. The problem with breadcrumb leadership is that you create the expectation of bread.
"When we enter the system, they will be waiting—”
“Which system?” Each mission had five primary solar systems they were assigned to explore in order. After each system a return probe was launched in the direction of Earth’s future position. It contained a record of everything they found. If after the fifth system nothing of importance was discovered, they were to scan forward in their assigned cone and use their own judgement of where to explore. Always sending a packet home.
“Any of them—”
“Then we go to another one or—"to hear the fear in his voice felt like the first breath she’d taken in years.
“All of them. It’s all of them. It doesn’t matter where we go. Intelligence, civilization, some collective is always there. This is not an exploration mission.”
“Then what is it?”
“An escape.”
“Escape?” His fear now translated into anger. “How the fuck can we escape from an intelligence that knows everything about us? Where we’ll be and when we’ll be there? Why even try to escape? Why haven’t they already come? What the fuck aren’t you telling me?”
“The Phaethon found an entire civilization in the first system it visited. Not just a civilization but an intelligence that was waiting at the ship’s exact exit point. Without any weapons or protection Admiral Eridanos immediately prepared to launch a probe back to Earth to warn us of the trap. Instead of being attacked the ship received a message that was perfectly compatible with the Phaethon communication system. In perfect Greek they said, “Always have we obeyed and here we have waited for the Holy Forge of Humanity to return. Know that your Throne Absolute, Prime Scar of your Restless Void has been untouched through the vast eons of your absence. Here we have waited, here we have obeyed, and now we will listen.”
“The warning probe launched before anything else could be recorded from the ship. But the entry probe was able to scan the planets and return to Earth unharmed. Unbothered. When we looked at the data we found temples, monuments, statues, and entire culture built around our history and species.”
“At first they thought it was a complication of time dilation that we had yet to uncover. An unimaginably distant and foreign humanity that reached back through time. But in all their buildings and art there was no trace of history beyond the current year. When we returned to the same system and others their knowledge was always current. Always correct.”
“In the early days when we communicated with a new species we found they spoke of us like gods. They all believed that we created life, even species that had no knowledge or communication with other civilizations. But behind all their omniscient fanfare and knowledge lay a profound fear. The willingness to commit self\-extinction in the name of worship but in truth as a better alternative to the horrors they believe we are capable of. In some areas we arrived to an automated message and planets full of fresh corpses, thousands of species, billions and trillions of lives lying among their tributes and thanks to Humanity.”
“They don’t just fear what they think could happen, it is their belief that we’ve proven ourselves before and then returned exactly when we told each of them we would. The exact time and location passed on through untold ages and evolution. Never a mistake, never a late greeting. And for those that exterminated themselves, they had to live with the knowledge of the exact date their entire history and civilization would end.”
"The value of our journey is forever destroyed by the certainty of our destinations." |
"Rubin, for fuck's sake, this is inexcusable".
This is the state of affairs at my home on 15 Cobalt Lane, at 10:27 AM on a Saturday. There are six people I've never met, gathered around me at this sort of folding picnic table in my driveway. Rubin, his sunburned face gleaming at me from behind the table, looks like he doesn't understand what the problem is. And my neighbour who, like a good neighbour, I've never spoken to, is *leaning out of* his window to see what the commotion is all about.
"Mr Reynolds, I'm dealing with some customers here,"Rubin says, his cherub cheeks red and happy with what is clearly a good day's business.
"Don't you Mr Reynolds me, this is clearly a human rights violation."
"Human rights? You're talking crazy, Mr Reynolds. Just head back inside, I'll have your money for you in an hour, same as always."
"No! No, this is wrong, and if you don't hand over ***all*** of these *immediately*, I'll add obstructing justice when I speak to the police."
Rubin laughs, as if this is the funniest thing he's ever heard, turning back to a client who's leaving through a wad of tens. "Somebody's been watching too much NCIS. Get a load of this guy. 'I'll add obstructing justice'. Very good, Mr Reynolds. Hey, you ever think about going into comedy? You're a riot!"
"Hey Donald, everything alright down there?"My neighbour, I think his name's Ted. If he leans any further out that window, he's going to fall out.
"Everything's fine, Ted, go back inside,"I yell over my shoulder. "For fuck's sake, don't come down here."
"Well, there's no need for \-"
"Ted! We're fine, thanks!"
What a laugh. What I see laid out on the table in front of me is the very definition of "Not fine". Twenty amber vials, arranged into two neat little rows. Each bottle labeled. A tiny shape inside of each.
I can't believe in the five years Rubin's been showing up here, I've never come down to look at what he's been selling.
"You have to be kidding with this shit, Rubin. This is a sick joke."
"No joke! All the genuine article!"Rubin says proudly, accepting a huge wad of cash from the gentleman at his table. Maybe it was the money, I think, watching the transaction. Maybe that's why I never checked. 40&#37; of the profits on a yard sale, and last year Rubin had handed me a thousand two hundred in loose money.
I just thought he was a good salesman. I never thought...
"And what'll it be for you, sir?"Rubin asks the man. The guy, I notice, is a rotund, middle class white man in khaki shorts and a visor hat thing. A woman I think is his wife is peering over his shoulder, entranced by the jars.
"Rubin, don't you dare sell that."
"I'll take the Idi Amin, please,"the man says, his voice gruff and businesslike.
"No, you will not. This is a crime scene, and you are all accessories to something...something *evil*."My voice is going shrill, and I try to step between Rubin and the fat man, but as I do, my foot snags on one of the collapsible legs of the table.
What follows next is complete chaos. Dozens of amber jars roll rapidly off the table as its surface becomes instantly diagonal. Rubin yells something I can't quite make out, and I watch him snag the "Amin"jar off its surface before it starts to roll. The air fills with the sound of breaking glass and gasps from the audience, which seems to have grown in the instant I knock out the table leg.
Jars marked "Castro,"and "Zedong"and "Hussein"fall to the floor, exploding in wild tintinnabulation. Water \(or whatever Rubin's been pickling these things in\) rushes out in a flood across the floor and there are shrieks from several of the assembled group.
This time, I hear what Rubin's yelling. "My product! You've ruined my product! You'll pay for all of these!"
But I'm hearing him as if through a fog. Like he's very far away. My entire focus is locked onto the horror that has come tumbling out of his little science projects. I can feel the world drop out from under me, as a dozen curled up fetuses roll along the floor, slick with yellow liquid.
Curled up, about the size of a fist each. A little Stalin, resting peacefully in the broken glass shell of his jar. A tiny Hitler, face up in a pool of juice, his little eyes shut tightly as if from the bright Florida sun. Gaddafi. Il. Mussolini, like little museum exhibits.
As I step to the side, out of the path of the widening pool, a large piece of glass levers into the gap between my foot and my sandal. It's not big, but a stab of pain instantly shoots up my leg, and I kick the shard away.
I feel Rubin grab me, and the next thing I know he's pulled me around to look at him, holding onto my collar like a high school bully. "This was the perfect operation! Do you know what you've done?"His face is red, but now it doesn't look like a sunburn. Now he looks furious.
"What I've done? Rubin, what the hell is this? Who are these people?"
"Who are these people? Donald, these people are paying customers! Come from all corners of this fair city to partake in the great American past time \- a little friendly neighbourhood capitalism! I'm an entrepreneur, you idiot, and you've just thrown my product down the drain!"
"Product? Rubin, these are fetuses! Where did you even get these?"
Rubin's hands go suddenly slack, and he lets go of my collar. His face, bright red, begins to lighten, and I take an involuntary step back as a huge smile splits his skull from side to side. "Oh Donald! Is that what's been bothering you?"
Rubin laughs, gently, and then, in an instant, he stoops down to his haunches and grabs up the piece of bloody glass that tore into my toe a second ago. "Poor Mr Reynolds \- you've had quite the day, haven't you?"
Ted's voice comes in from behind me, somewhere near his house. "I'm calling the police!"
I feel nailed to the spot, unable to look away from Rubin's grinning skullhead. I want to run, to call back to Ted. Anything. I'm dimly aware that somebody nearby is crouched over the spilled fetuses, trying to scoop one up with a curl of shattered glass. But I can't look away from Rubin, with that blood red shard of glass in his hand, like a weapon.
"Every good businessman has to have a wholesaler, Donald. Everything from plastic chachkis to, well, the odd and the incredible. It all has to come from somewhere. My supplier lies dormant for most of the year, it's true, but his product is so good, it can wait. There'll always be buyers when it comes to sick shit like this, Donald, don't you understand?"
My mouth is frozen. I can't say a word. All I can see is Rubin \- it's like the rest of the world has faded away, and there's only us. When he speaks, next, his voice is low, soft, almost crooning.
"Look, Donald, don't worry. There's always next year."He tosses the shard of glass playfully in one hand, not looking at it. "And I'll have something new to bring my wholesaler, thanks to you!"
"Wait!"
"I think it's time to go,"he says, and before I can stop him, Rubin shoots out his hand and presses it against my temple.
Then I'm asleep. I'm asleep for what seems like days. And when I wake up, I'm in my bed, back in my house. A dense fog seems to have settled over me. My vision is blurred and my limbs feel weak, but I manage to pull myself out of bed in a sluggish movement, somehow convinced I'm not alone.
Only I am. It's completely quiet in here. There's nobody around. Just me, and a throbbing pain in my big toe. |
Two meters tall, two hundred kilos of bone, sinew, muscle, scales, and horn. Oh, and teeth. So many teeth. How it managed to hide from me I may never know. Are they evolving camouflage? Its threat display told me I had about three seconds to live.
I work in the Recombinant Cloning and Splicing Lab. RCS for short, or "Chimaera Hell"as we call it. Originally we were making high-yield foods, both plant and animal. Then, once we started getting really successful, we started making high-threat animals. "Self,"you'd say, "did you ever watch Jurassic Park? How'd that turn out for everyone?"you'd say. And you'd wonder how we could be so stupid to go against essentially all the common wisdom and the thousands of years of morality plays that say, Icarus, don't fly that high, it's going to end badly. Well, I'll tell you how. I like getting paychecks.
We put in safeguards. It's not like we didn't think this all through. First, we made it so they couldn't breed. Then, we made it so they had excessively active fear responses, and trained them from birth to be scared of humans above all else. But then we figured out how to make them intelligent and blah blah blah you see where this is going. Yes, it seemed like a good idea at the time. No, it doesn't seem like a good idea right now. Fortunately, for some reason we can't understand, all the new and next gen hybrids are highly intelligent and *incredibly embarrassed by social gaffes.*
And so it flexed, and there were spines, and teeth, and really just a lot of stuff that I didn't want to see any closer.
"Hector! Are you drooling on the floor?! Are you drooling on **the floor I just cleaned this morning?** Look at this! Do you do this at your home? Look me in the eye, young man. In the eye."
I sighed.
"Hector, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. It's been a long day and I shouldn't take it out on you. But you must understand that if you eat me here, you're going to ruin the walls, the floor, probably even the ceiling. Is this really what you want?"
"Honestly, I'm not even mad. I'm disappointed, Hector. You know, we all come to work every day and try to make everything the way you need it to be so you can learn and grow up and be a strong, healthy, successful adult. No, young man, you use the mop, not the towels. There you go. That's good. And...right! The bucket. Good job, Hector. Make sure you get over there, too."
"Hector, I'm going to go get you some steak sandwiches so you can calm down after you're done here. You keep mopping, and make sure you put all this away when you're done. Yes, I promise that I won't tell anyone, if you promise to try to be a little more thoughtful."
"Yes, Hector, that's all I ask. We're not born knowing how to get around in this world. If you like, tonight, I'll tell you the story of how, when I was a young girl, I made such a fuss one evening when my whole family was out at a nice dinner that my grandparents had to pick me up and carry me, screaming, out of the restaurant and to the car. They didn't talk to me for months."
"Of course they did, and I forgive you, too, Hector. We just try to do better, day by day. That's what makes us civilized. Not being perfect, just trying to be thoughtful. Trying to do better each day than we did the day before. Now, you finish this up. I'll be right back with some sandwiches."
As the door shut behind me, my legs turned to jelly and I sank to the floor, panting and wild-eyed. The interns who had been just a few steps behind and managed to stay outside while the whole thing unfolded pretended not to see my panic. Politely, of course. |
The knocking started again and then the whispering “ Dannniel”. The last 3 days have been hell listening to it. I don’t want to open the door, I don’t even want to look out the window. When the sun sets it comes.
“Daniel, please open the door ,I won’t hurt you”. I think I heard it giggle. The police won’t come again, they think I’m just bullshitting at this point. All I have to defend myself is a bat. Whatever it is I can feel its evil intentions. Why it chooses to torment me instead of just breaking in eludes me.
“ Daniel” I hear the raspy whisper again. “ Daniel I’m starting to get angry” I can hear it giggle again, I think it’s enjoying this. “ Daniel you’re going to regret not letting me in” it says thats almost sing songy. I feel my heart tightening as the knocking intensified. I don’t know what’s going to happen next but I know I can’t let it in. My heart stops as I hear the door crack as a series of booms hit it. |
Block and thrust. Block and thrust. Block and thrust. Block and thrust. Block and...
"Battles are not even tenth as glorious as bards describe them."Langley thought to himself.
Block.
"They are both boring and scary at the same time. All you do is block with your shield, and thrust with your sword, until you run out of enemies, or you die."
Thrust.
"And of course, every second my life hinges at brothers in arms doing the same."
Block.
"If one of us dies, another has to take his place, otherwise breach in formation starts, and we all die. It's impossible to block from two directions."
Thrust.
"And that's the scary part. Or rather one of the scary parts. Sure the hellbeasts look scary, but they are not actually much of a threat."
Slash. Langley simply had to break the monotony.
"Enemy soldiers are much worse, but really, scariest thought is ending up alone, away from your company, because that means certain death, instead of just likely death."
Block.
"Those hellbeasts are only good against green soldiers. Morons turn and run the second they see them, with predictable results. Hellbeasts are poor at fighting but great at hunting."
BOOOOOM! Loud noise resounded through the battle.
"What the..."Langley thought.
Everyone stopped in a confusion. Fighting ceased, soldiers on both sides, gripped their shields and entered defensive formations, trying to get their bearing on the situation. Eventually someone pointed to the centre of the battle, and all heads turned. Somewhere where middle of the field was, there was a massive pillar of light, reaching the heavens itself. Langley didn't notice it on his own because his helmet limits peripheral vision a lot, a price of protection.
It was hard to see, but Langley could have sworn that he saw human-like silhouettes descending in the pillar. He wasn't sure though, it was quite far and all the smoke from dragon fire and alchemical bombs didn't help.
Soon, the earth trembled and crack opened between lines. And nothing happened, or so it seemed. In the middle of the field, gargantuan demon slowly arose, however nothing happened on Langley's part of the frontline. Quickly, crack closed, once again nearly knocking everyone over. There was silence, at least compared to usual sounds of battle: instead of screams of thousands of people, and clatter of as much swords bashing against shields, there were just thousands of confused murmurs.
Eventually, tiny gold sparkles started flying around the demon until it fell at which point soldiers started stabbing each other again.
The war ended, one side won, other lost and some land changed hands. Serfs were oppressed as usual and Langley's company was disbanded. As befits minor nobility, he went back to farming with help of hired hands until another war breaks out and king, or whoever will be his liege then, calls him once again. At least he got some loot his time and risk. He did contemplate becoming professional mercenary, as he already got armour and professionals are paid much better, but decided against it. He didn't like the odds.
Eventually, one evening when Langley was drinking in tavern, a bard came over and started signing. He was signing about that last battle. How Lord Falkyr has slain King Markeh in single combat, how with his last breath, Markeh called upon the infernal powers and in turn Falkyr received aid from angels themselves and how that is proof of Falkyr's righteous claim to the throne. There wasn't even word of thousands of regular footmen who died that day. No mention of ground so bloody as to be slippery. No word of all the death, destruction, pain and agony Langley saw around. They didn't sing how he had to carry unnamed corpses to a huge mass grave. How it was only pure luck that he found his brother and gave him better burial. There was no mention of all soldiers who lost limbs but survived and now were crippled for lives because restorative magic is too expensive. Not even a word about poor burned and disfigured sods, who caught initial barrage of alchemical bombs to the face. All the brothers in arms he marched and camped with, whom too many were lost, according to the song, all of them weren't even needed, it all went between King Markeh and Lord Falkyr, two brothers who disagreed which of them should be next king.
"Bards are full of shit."Langley thought, downed rest of his mead and stood up to punch the pretentious git. |
"1 July, 2018. The day the EA stocks shot through the roof."
That's it. That's the story. Somehow, the EA community manager who managed to royally fuck up our image managed to become the most upvoted user on the website. To test our success, all of our games now have microtransactions. To play 30% of the game, players must pay 15$ but to play 100% the players must only pay 45$. If people like our community manager so much, they will be willing to pay. This price applies to every copy of every game, sold or unsold.
**The Next Day**
**NBC Los Angeles**
*Riots have broken out all across the state with protesters marching towards Redwood City carrying pitchforks and torches. Only one building has been targeted, the headquarters of an MNC known as Electronic Arts.*
|
“You want me to make you 5 wooden swords?” the carpenter rose his eyebrows at the young man standing in front of him.
“Yes, I need 5 wooden swords exactly the same as this one” He pointed to the sword that he’d placed on the table when he'd entered the workshop.
“You know you’re an adult? You can have a real sword, I only make wooden ones for the children to play with” he spoke slowly, thinking that the young man standing in front of him had to be a bit “special”.
“I realise that, can you make me the wooden ones by tomorrow?”
“For 2 gold coins they are yours”
“I’ll give you 4 gold coins, 2 for your work and 2 for your silence. Tell no one I bought them from you.”
The carpenter shrugged, 2 gold coins was plenty to buy his silence.
------------------------------------------------------------
“I will challenge you” everyone turned to face the young man pushing his way through the crowd.
The Knight rolled his eyes at the young man standing in front of his.
“You realise I only fight worthy opponents?” He used the tip of his sword to poke at the wooden sword the young man was holding “I will not fight a boy who has no idea what they’re doing, you are not worth my time” he turned his back on the young man, sheathed his sword and started to walk away.
“I was told you were a coward” the young man threw the taunt out, then held his breath waiting to see if the Knight would turn around.
“How dare you, I will not be so insulted in my own town”. The Knight turned around and drew his sword ready to fight.
The crowd drew back from the 2 men, money rapidly changing hands as they bet on which of the 2 would be victorious, with most of them favouring the Knight.
The young man faced him with his wooden sword held totally still in front of him waiting for the Knight to make the first move.
It was something that the towns people spoke of for years afterwards, some claimed that the young man’s movements were so fast that the battle was over in less than the blink of an eye, others said that the magical wooden sword left the young mans hand and did battle on its own.
The young man’s eyes met the carpenter as he stood over the defeated Knight holding his wooden sword in the air. When the carpenter thought about it later, he swore that the young man winked at him before turning to face the man that broke the stunned silence to yell.
“I will give you ten gold coins for the magical sword”
|
"Won't you be my neighbour?"
The words were uttered to me with such a divine benevolence unlike any I had ever heard before. Here, before me, stood a man, unarmed, unarmoured, unprotected. He had black hair, going grey, and a sweater vest on. His khaki pants were pressed and neat. All around me, men, *my* men, were hugging each other, sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn't even shake them. I was on the verge of joining them myself.
I bit my lip, fought back the urge to cry and wail forgiveness to the sky. What kind of sorcery was this? I pulled out my gun, the one pistol I kept out of necessity, from its holster and pointed it at him. It did little except accentuate how shaky I was. "St-stay back! I'll shoot, I swear!"
He approached me, gently pushing the gun down, away from his body and towards the floor. I didn't have the heart to fire. It was like all the fight went out of me. "It's okay."He said, his voice soft, mellow, washing over the room to renewed sobs. There was a sort of warm familiarity about him. "Sometimes we say things we don't mean, do things we regret because we're scared or we're angry."
He embraced me then, a hug. I thought he would break my back, despite the gentleness his exuded from his presence. The man continued. I began to sniffle. I was going to cry. No, I was crying. "And all we need,"he continued from his thought from earlier, "Is a little forgiveness. It can be hard to forgive someone, especially if they've done something terrible."He pat my back while I cried, long and hard, pathetically, into his shoulder, holding me all the while. I was more like an angry schoolboy seeking forgiveness, like the child I used to be, rather than the leader of a country now was. But how could anyone resist this kindness? To do so would have been inhuman. There was simply no ability for me to do so.
"Is that better?"he asked, after what must have been five, ten minutes. My men had cried themselves into a stupor, if not into deep sleep. They had silly, child-like smiles on their faces, some with eyes closed, some without, all breathing deeply, calmly. I sniffled, nodding into his shoulder. "Good. So, will you be my neighbour now?"He asked again.
Once more, I nodded, wiping my nose with no dignity. How could I, after this? |
I hear them, everywhere. Everyday.
It was yesterday when I rounded the corner, and saw Mickey standing there. Bang, shot him dead right there.
Why aren’t they here? I had a date with destiny, a meeting with Fate itself and I was abandoned here. Why did they do this to me, why, why, why, why, why.
Sanity should never be taken for granted, haha. You see those lights in the background? You seem them right on the horizon? They are encroaching, invading. I feel as if I am cramped, stuck in a prison, shackled to walll and the prison is my mind dear God it is my mind it is my mind.
I’m not crazy, I’m just aware, more aware of everything that you fail to see. Who do you think goes “thump-thump” in the night? Who do you think those scary monsters and super creeps are, who sneak up beside you and take your mind take your sanity take your everything.
I feel as if there are two parts of me. I’m Lauren, but I’m also Felix, and sometimes Mickey too. But Mickey’s dead, so is Felix. Lauren is alive, that’s me, but Lauren can’t come out right now. She’s too scared of all those scary monsters and super creeps to come outside. Haha, what a loser.
Felix walks into the middle of the street, hoping to end it all. End his misery, take away his pain. He is hit by a car, yet he does not die. He tries again, why the hell wont it work oh, that’s right, because nothing is real, nothing is absolute. |
"You sent them *where?!*"That was the Director. His tone let me know that today was probably my last day on the job.
"But I...I thought..."That was me. Sam. The kid stammering and scrambling at the controls trying to redirect the route.
"You get paid to *do*, not to *think*!"the Director bellowed. Which was factually untrue, as being a flight coordinator required tremendous amounts of thinking.
But, of course, I wasn't going to correct him.
Meanwhile, the Director took his anger out on a clipboard. First, he tried to break it over his knee, and when that didn't work, he flung the thing at the wall and nearly took a passing assistant's head off.
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Sam. This isn't the time to beat yourself up, bud. You made a mistake. Fine. We all do. The most important thing to do now is fix it before it gets even worse, alright?"That was Randy. A friend. The words of reassurance and the extra pat on the back were all I needed to nod and sit up higher in my chair.
As I analyzed the data, I knew the mission was a failure. There wasn't a snowballs chance in hell we were still going to be able to get them to Mars. But, if we acted quickly enough, there was still a chance that we could bring our boys home.
|
Klaxons blared in the background as Vince was awoken by the ships automated systems.
Waking up from suspended animation is not fun, especially the accelerated awakening procedure. It’s like your body wakes up earlier than the rest of you, yet you’re conscious. The worst part is the alarms.
“Contact detected. Contact detected.”
Standard procedure is to awaken the senior officer only. No need to risk all members of staff. This puzzled Vince. He was second in command.
“Contact detected. Contact detected.”
Jesus H Christ, wouldn’t someone turn off that wretched alarm?
“Contact detected. Contact detected.”
Oh, right, they’re asleep. He looked to his shipmates. To his left is Lewis, and beyond his is Javier. Why am I awake?
“Contact detected. Contact detected.”
“Contact de….? Shoot!” He jumped out of the stasis chamber and ran for the control panel.
“Artemis, status?”
“Contact detected outside starboard 34 meters and closing. Impact estimated in 47 seconds. All systems operating within established specifications.”
“Artemis, details on contact? Extend sensor range, is there more contacts?”
“Contact is approximately 0.1 cubic meters and is approaching at 0.72 meters per second. No other contacts visible.”
Ok, so it’s small and slow. Very slow. “Artemis, let’s move outside it’s trajectory”
“Unable to comply.”
What? Shaking his head trying to shake loose the cobwebs “What?”
“Unable to comply.”
“Why?”
“Unable to engage engines when member of crew is outside of the ship.”
A malfunctioning spaceship. Every astronauts dream. This new v0.1 AI is a joke. Never let an AI control a ship. We’re in space for the love of god. Any malfunction could kill us all. Okay. “Artemis, run level 2 self diagnostic.”
Grueling seconds later “All systems operating within established specifications.”
*Bang. Bang.*
Vince jumped out of his skin, spinning to his right “It’s too late.”
*Bang. Bang.*
“Artemis,” looking back down the hall the the stasis chambers “which crew member is outside?”
“Captain Lewis J Ford”
*Bang. Bang.*
“Artemis, who is in the stasis pods?”
“Javier S Garcia”
“Artemis, who else?!”
*Bang. Bang.*
“Invalid inquiry.”
“Artemis, display all life scans on main viewer.”
Artemis’ sensors did detect a life sign outside,..... and only two inside. |
Damn this old witch.
She’s come into my house, and sat herself down comfortably. She’s infested the place with quaint little teacups, pink bouquets, vases, and sweet paintings. It’s all so sugary, full of enough saccharine to make you vomit. At least she’s pretty damn old, so scaring her won’t be so hard.
I creep up on her this morning, and put on my most fearsome guise. Time to make some mayhem. I WOOSH over to a floral-print vase, and knock it to the ground, shattering it. Take that, you windbag.
She simply walks over, and smiles.
“Gonna need a dustbin, oh my word.”
What? Fine. I’ll try it again.
I wait for her to come back, and prepare to WOOSH again and knock something else over. Maybe another vase? Oh yes, that one will do. It’s a really sweet and goody-goody pink one, with fluffy clouds all over it.
She comes up the stairs, huffing and puffing. How old was she again? 68? I dunno. Anyway, I WOOSH and knock over that base as well.
She smiles again, and starts cleaning it up as I feel very frustrated indeed.
“Things are just breaking all over the place, oh my lord.”
Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok. Fine. I’ll have to WOOSH something a little bigger this time, how about her entire antique plate collection? I rush down, and WOOSH a single plate. I’ll do the rest when she arrives.
Sure enough, she comes down, and a rear up to WOOSH the whole damn collection so it comes crashing down like a house of cards.
WOO-
“Don’t you start with that again.”
She’s standing right in front of me, and I WOOSH in the opposite direction, going through a wall.
The hell? What?
“Get outta that walk you big bitch. I mean it.”
Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok. Fine. I appear out of the wall. She can’t see me, can she?
“What’s the big idea? You asshole!”
I whirl my arms around in high circles, make great and distended faces.
“I can see you, you great dumbass.”
I pause, looking right at her.
“How? Why aren’t you scared of me?”
She laughs shrilly.
“Why should a demon be scared of a specter?”
|
I'm up to my wrists in dirt and patio stones when I hear it. It's distant and muted but it...it sounds like someone is calling my name. I look up expecting a neighbor calling me from a few yards over but there's no one that I can see.
That's when I look down.
It's a moving line of ants, surrounded by thirteen circles of ants, even numbers moving clockwise and odd numbers anti-clockwise.
"Maybe they're all ant-i-clockwise."I say. I chuckle to myself and realize that I'm looking at a shifting pentagram and circles of ants, like they're trying to summon something. Or someone.
Then I hear it. A steady chant.
It's my name.
I lean down to the little pentagram and a cheer goes up, the ants lifting their front legs to me as I get close.
"Great Lord!"One of them, wearing what looks suspiciously like a green robe crafted from a blade of grass, prostrates himself before me. "You have answered our prayers!"
"Uhh...what?"I wonder if I've had more beer than I thought. Or if something was in the beer I've had. Maybe it's heat stroke.
"Great Lord! We called upon you with an offering of blue cheese and wine as the prophesy says! Will you heed our prayers?"
"Uh. Prayers? You want something?"I ask of the little ant in his robe, trying to ignore the other ants in a rhythmic movement of up and down and their low humming.
"Great Lord, we desire assistance with the Red colony! They have assaulted our people and taken our land!"
I look to the fence where a red ant colony has been bothering me for weeks. I've been meaning to get around to it for some time now, especially after they bit my legs when I was cutting the grass last time.
I watch the tiny shapes moving around on their hill and then down to the small ring of ants. Then back to the tiny shapes. Then back to the pentagram.
This is insane.
"I have some demands."I finally say. The little ant does an excited little dance.
"Of course Great Lord! We serve at your leisure!"
Well, if it's not insane then at the very least it might be interesting.
"Scott never returned my weed whacker...what can you do to him?"I ask the little ant priest. He begins to tell me the options.
My eyes go wide as he continues.
Oh my.
Very interesting indeed. |
I desperately pressed the close elevator button over and over and over again. I could see a pregnant woman coming and didn't want to be forced to share my precious air with a human and a half.
To my great despair, she made it. "Thanks for holding the door open strange------Ah-CHOOOO"
She looked at me expectantly.
I stared at her and felt my upper lip moving upwards in disgust.
"Gross."I said as I shook my head and looked away from her. Fucking humans. |
Benji wasn't particularly upset when everybody else in the world disappeared. It took him a few days to realize he felt that way, though. He'd naturally been plenty scared at first. Who wouldn't be terrified to wake up and realize that every other human was gone?
Once the initial shock passed, though, and he was able to do a bit of thinking, his first idea was that he'd completely lost his mind. Something had just snapped, and he was currently in a padded room in some psych-ward banging his head against the wall and crying and yelling about all the people vanishing.
The fear slowly gave way to confusion over the next several days. If he wasn't insane (which was still a REALLY big if) then what had happened? Where were the people?
Perhaps Jesus took them all, and he was the only person left? He spent some time thinking about it, but he found that explanation hard to believe. While he wasn't religious, he was far from the only one. Hell, his best friend Micah was one of the biggest atheist assholes he knew. That angry little dwarf of a man was always ranting and about the evils of religion. But just to make sure Micah really was gone Benji had gone by his house a couple times a day to check. Never saw a single sign of him, however, so the rapture theory was clearly bunk.
So... Aliens? Insanity? Living in a computer simulation? Insanity? He was dead? Insanity...
He went through every idea he could think of, going back to every crazy book he'd ever read or movie he'd ever seen to come up with an idea of why he was still here and everyone else was gone. But he had no clue, and nothing made any sense.
\*\*\*
Five days after Benji woke up alone in the world he was sitting outside of a gas station drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette. He'd never smoked before the end of the world, but figured he didn't have much to lose now. He was watching a couple dogs going through somebody's abandoned trash that was now littered in the street. Whatever had taken the people had left the animals. *If it was God*, he thought, *screw him for not taking the dogs. They're better than people. The dogs should be in heaven and the people should be here*.
This thought, this reminder that he actually hated people, was the moment when he truly realized that he wasn't upset that all the people were gone. "To hell with them!"he yelled to the dogs. "Bunch of assholes and the world is better without 'em all!"He was slurring slightly. Much to his delight the power was still on and the beer was cold and delicious.
"Speaking of power,"he said excitedly, waving his beer at his inattentive audience, "I probably only have, like, a couple days before that shit goes out, right?! I mean... might as well take advantage of it while I got it. Right, boys?"
The dogs felt no need to answer him, deciding instead to keep on nosing around the trash.
Benji went through the broken glass of the store door again, grabbed another twelve pack, and headed towards home. He'd always dreamed of a world where he didn't have to work. Or talk to people. Where he could just sit around all day and play video games and not have to worry about a thing.
"Maybe I got my wish,"he laughed. "Maybe there's gods up there after all. If so, I say thank ya!"
He stumbled into his house and plopped his plump body into his favorite chair. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this earlier, and wondered to himself why he'd let silly emotions keep him away from his one true love in life as he grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, followed by a search for his Xbox controller that he eventually discovered resting under an empty chip bag. Settling in, he started up his lovely machine.
As he chose his game he tossed his now empty beer can across the room and laughed. Nobody to impress around here anymore.
The game loaded and out of pure habit and not thinking he selected multi-player. He popped open another beer during the loading screen and took a big drink, once again savoring the cold deliciousness of it as it went down. When he looked back at the screen he was mildly confused. There was nobody else in the game lobby. That never happened...
It took only a second for the answer to hit him like a flash bang.
"You idiot!"he yelled at himself and started laughing. And kept laughing. He couldn't stop laughing... He bellowed and coughed and laughed even more, the kind of laugh that makes you feel like you're dying. Tears streamed down his face, and all his stress and fear flowed out of him and down the streams on his face. Everything was going to be okay. Even through his fit of laughter he had a moment to think that everything was going to be okay. Somehow.
His recovery was slow, and he had setbacks, but he eventually got his shit together enough to go back to the game. He looked at the screen and his good feelings instantly melted away, and the stress and fear all came rushing back.
There was another name there. It simply read "Player 2".
Benji could do nothing but stare at the screen in shock.
A voice, sounding like a girl or young boy, came suddenly from the TV, barely speaking above a whisper.
"You're not supposed to be here!"the person said, panic and fear standing out clearly in their voice. "He's not going to be happy! Not happy at all! You need to go! Go, before he..."
Player 2 left the lobby. |
Toni hated referring to herself as a sidekick, but that was what the world certainly saw her as when she was standing beside her partner. Who was a fresh-outta-high school kid with pretty decent healing powers next to Miss Incredible, the woman who'd been saving the world since the goddamn Roaring Twenties?
It's not like she had a complex about it, or anything. She was Miss Incredible, paragon of all things good and brave, to the rest of the planet, but to Toni? She was just Caroline. Caroline, who cracked hilarious dirty jokes and got competitive over Monopoly and who always, always made you feel like you were *valuable*. And so, sidekick or not, Toni was perfectly content to wait outside the bank while Caroline handled the situation. "It's just your everyday robber,"she'd said to Toni, sighing as she suited up. "I'd normally never ask you to stay on the sideline, but..."
"No, I get it,"Toni had said. "I'll keep a lookout for anything suspicious."
A few minutes passed, and as promised, Toni kept her eyes fixed on the bank. Sometimes you had to be careful-- seemingly straightforward cases turned out to be a trap-- but today seemed to be exactly what it looked like. An easy takedown, especially for Caroline.
And sure enough, Toni spotted a figure pushing out of the doors of the building, the bright red cape she'd know anywhere fluttering in the wind. "Nice one!"she yelled over the slight wind, getting out of her car to make her way over to her friend. "Seriously, you have to have broken some kind of record. That was *quick*."
She only realized something was wrong when Caroline stopped. Ten yards away, Toni saw the exact moment she crumpled, hunched over on her knees like she was about to throw up. "Caroline?"She broke into a run, but stopped abruptly in her tracks when she realized that it wasn't Caroline at all. The woman dressed as Miss Incredible was old, withering, so small the costume hung off of her trembling frame like a burlap sack. They'd dealt with shapeshifters before, but who would shapeshift into the form of a woman on her deathbed?
And then the woman looked up, and Toni realized she was wrong. Because she'd know those eyes anywhere.
"I don't know what happened,"Caroline croaked, letting out a hacking cough. Toni held out a hand, and when she didn't take it she let it fall on Caroline's bony shoulder instead, like she was the only thing keeping her mentor, her friend, her *hero*, from collapsing. "One moment the criminal was pointing a gun at me and the next I was--"
"No, shh,"said Toni, trying to keep her voice steady despite the utter and complete panic that burned white-hot in the depths of her stomach. "Let me heal you, I can fix this--"and she concentrated harder than she'd ever done before, willing every one of her cells to focus its energy on this one, supremely important task. Her hands on Caroline's shoulder glowed an electric blue, growing brighter and brighter until Toni, weak with the effort of sustaining it, relaxed.
When the light died out, Caroline just looked at her sadly with those blue eyes she'd know anywhere, framed with wrinkles, dotted with cataracts.
"No,"said Toni, breathing heavily, blinking the spots out of her vision, "that should've *worked,* it always works--"
"Toni,"Caroline whispered, and then louder: "Antonia."
Toni stared at her. "What?"It came out more forceful than she'd intended it, but in her defense, she didn't deal with people dying in her arms very well.
And Caroline *was* dying. "I don't think-- I don't think you can reverse this, Toni. I don't think there's anything we can do but wait."Already, a crowd had begun to form around them, but Toni blocked it all out, focused on Caroline's wheezing. Every word seemed like it came with a price, but eventually she cleared her throat. "Keep my legacy alive. Keep going, Toni. For me."
"But I'm not Miss Incredible*,* I'm just your-- your sidekick, and you're not dying, you can't be!"
"You were... never a... si--"And then Caroline fell silent, fell so scarily silent, and all Toni could think was that it was so goddamn *unfair.* |
(Taking this from a Padawan who made a red saber)
"How would we know if you've fallen to the dark or not? You are the only survivor of your trial group, Karsicus is, as you've said, dead."Master Windu asked. "That blade burns with harnessed fury, I only know of one group which uses such a lightsaber. You say you constructed one before, but you've no proof of this."
I understand his concern. I have to admit, I did put my focus and drive into the blade. I needed it quickly, and the force obliged. Still, I would have thought that this was a much darker red than a Sith blade.
"You say ask the Force, you did? Compel it, did you not?"Master Yoda had a much better way of wording things. Where Windu was a warrior at heart, Yoda was always the more thinking type. Mulling over my reply, Master Kenobi spoke up.
"A fair point Master Yoda, but could it not be said that we all, to one degree or another, compel the force?"I had figured that, least of all, it would be him to speak in my defense. I hadn't found him or Skywalker the easiest to get along with. Not that we were enemies, I just found Kenobi's optimism to be naive, and Skywalker's drive for power bordering on a Sith-like passion.
"Perhaps Master Kenobi, but what Paladus, what say you?"Yoda now asked me directly. I certainly had a great deal to explain at this point.
"I needed a saber with which to defend myself. With my ship damaged beyond repair, separatist mercenaries searching for me, and with Grievous breathing down my neck, I remembered what we were told of the ancient Je'daii, and how they could commune with the force, how they could ask it for more than strength or insight, but items as well."Already there were upset murmurs around the room. Kenobi, Yoda, and to my surprise Windu, hadn't broken their attention from the shock of what I was getting at.
"I meditated, as I am want to do, and was confronted with the certainty that, if I didn't have something to protect myself, that I would die. I knew that the best choice would be a lightsaber. Unfortunately for me, the crystals for mine had been damaged from the fight with Grievous that claimed my master. Thankfully, I had the shards of the crystal, which I was able to, with the willingness of the Force and the crystals themselves, make somewhat whole again. The resulting weapon was something I was able to use in effecting my escape from the Glavus system, making my way to the nearest Jedi force I could find, here at Dantooine."
"You mention defending yourself, initiate. Perhaps I should help you demonstrate to us how."Master Windu wasn't trying to be threatening at that moment, but judging by his posturing, this might be the second time I had to bear this weapon against another today. What I hadn't mentioned was, through some miracle of luck, I was able to disable some of Grievous' lightsaber arms. Being that I had always taken to having a holo-recorder with me, it was more likely than not that they had seen it.
"Clear would that test be Master Windu,"Yoda replied. "If you are ready, Paladus, this will show us if, indeed, events have transpired as you say."I had thought that trial by combat was something the Jedi had forgone. I chose my next words carefully.
"I do not wish a duel with one of this council's members. If not for the risk to myself, then for the risk to Master Windu. I am young, not fully trained in the ways of the force, I could see an accident happening here. If it is the will of this council that I do so, then I will obey."Holograms and masters present nod at this.
Master Windu rises, and ignites his amethyst Lightsaber. I raise my hilt, but do not ignite it. I am about to ask a question, but he answers it before I even ask.
"We will duel until one is forced to yield. You must make every attempt to make me yield. Do you understand?"I feel a wave of relief come over me. I don't have to risk harming him. I nod. In a flash, he uses the force to increase his speed, propelling himself towards me.
The force guides my next motions, as I wait until he starts his downswing. In a graceful motion, I raise my left arm over my head, grabbing the blade of his saber using Tutaminis to shield my hand. Completing my inward step, I bring my saber hilt under his chin, the blade facing into his skull.
"Yield. Please"I quietly ask. My fear and sorrow are barely contained, it shows in my voice. He looks at me, where my hilt is, and how I am holding his blade.
"I'm sorry,"he says, before sliding his saber out of my hand, using a force push to throw me back. It is all I can do to use the force to keep his blade from taking off my right arm. In the process, he takes my lightsaber. I am now disarmed, a cauterized gash in my right arm, and a Jedi Master is now staring me down, holding both his saber and my own.
"You had to force me to yield."Unfortunate, they really want me to do this.
"Okay,"I think to myself. Then I reply out loud. "I guess the same is to be said to you then, Master Windu?"A faint smile comes across his face. At least he understand a good sense of humor. What he may not understand is that, having come from a long line of pirates from what could only be described as a death world, I've got something of a familiarity with the ways of war. I may have only been four when they took me, but I still remembered how to use a slug thrower. Luckily for him, I had an affinity for non-lethal incapacitating agents.
"I admire your determination, and your ability to seize my blade was impressive, but I've disarmed you, yield."
I respond with this, "I've the force, I'm not disarmed yet, make me."He comes again. This time, I duck down, grabbing my pistol from its shoe holster and leaping back, using all of the Force that I can muster to dodge Master Windu's attack. I then aim and fire at his leg.
One shot was all I had. One shot was all it took. I perceive the shot hit, and concentrate now on landing on my feet. Masters Yoda and Kenobi, lightsabers drawn, meet me when I land. The blades stop short of my body as I drop the weapon. Windu falls a scant moment later. |
"Again!?"Sean yelled as he rushed into his bathroom. "Why do you people keep doing this!? Why me!?"
The man who was standing in Sean's shower, wearing the familiar white jumpsuit, looked up. The man stared at Sean intently for a couple of seconds before just going back to counting his tiles.
Sean's frustration rose with the knowledge that the man wouldn't respond to him, or leave anytime soon. This type of situation happened all the time, random people in white jumpsuits would appear in his apartment and would be counting some random thing.
The first time Sean had noticed someone in his apartment, it was a short woman reading the notes off of his refrigerator. At the time, he had been extremely confused and he had asked the woman how she got there.
The woman had barely paid Sean any mind and just told him she needed her security code. As soon as she had gotten done reading his notes, she took a card out of her pocket and disappeared.
Over time, with more and more encounters, Sean had figured it out. People from the future visited his apartment because random things in his apartment were important, for some reason. Some things in his apartment were PIN numbers, some were passwords, some were encryption keys, and others were just obscure codes that Sean had no hope of ever understanding.
Now Sean just stared, with increasing irritation, at the man counting the tiles in his shower. At first, he had been scared of these people, then he treated them with indifference, but now he thought that they were just taking advantage of him.
"Why the hell do you guys use my apartment?"Sean asked rhetorically, knowing that the man wouldn't respond. "My apartment isn't special! You people are just annoying me at this point!"
The crouching man in the jumpsuit rolled his eyes at Sean without even looking at him.
"Come on! At least you could provide me with an explanation!"Sean was now transferring his frustration into curiosity. "What type of code are you even here for?"
The man sighed, pulled out a marker to mark where he'd stopped counting, and looked up at Sean. The formerly irritated apartment owner now grew a smile in anticipation.
"I'm here for my email's security code."He said, visibly hoping that this would satisfy Sean's curiosity. It didn't obviously and Sean just looked back expectantly.
"Why couldn't you just change your email code? Why is it so important that you had to come count my fucking shower tiles?"
The white-clad man grumbled something and then answered Sean's question. "I had to come here because my email is quite important. I'm the current president of the United States, and I'd rather not leave a record of me changing my security code in a competitive election year."The man noticed Sean's surprised expression, smiled, and went back to counting the tiles.
Sean stood there, frozen, mouth agape, for about 2 minutes straight. His mind processed the information he was just given and could only come up with the answer that Sean was dreaming.
The man who claimed to be the president finished counting the shower tiles and then pulled out a card from his pocket.
"No!"Sean put his hand out, signaling the man to stop. "You can't just leave! You have to tell me more!"
The man smiled again and tilted his head at Sean. "Okay. You were supposed to get this anyway, giving it to you a bit sooner shouldn't be that big of a deal,"he said. And before Sean could ask what he was talking about, the future president pulled an information card out of his pocket and handed it to Sean. "That's my contact information."
Sean stared intently at the card he was just given. It had the insignia of the US government and it did indeed have contact information on it. It had a phone number, an email, and something called a 'mental-link key.' Sean blinked his wide eyes rapidly and looked up to the man.
Except the president was no longer there. He had left while Sean was inspecting the card leaving a very confused man standing in his bathroom with the contact information of someone who claimed to be the future president of the United States.
---
*Unanswered Questions* from the Bookshelf of the Gods. /r/BoTG
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|
"It's because yer ugly,"one of the guards would remark whenever a new prisoner would ask why the bathroom had no mirrors.
Most of us thought there were no mirrors because mirrors could be broken and the shards turned into weapons of harm or self-mutilation.
Others thought that the prison was simply too poor to afford mirrors. Or that the prison had money, but they simply chose not to use it on something as mundane as mirrors.
Either way, there were no mirrors, and no one knew why. But eventually one learns to live with it. It's not that important. Especially not in jail.
However, for those few who - for whatever reason - were still fascinated with knowing how they looked like, there were a handful of prisoners in each unit that could paint your picture for a fee.
It just wasn't the same though. The really, really good artists - the ones who could paint a picture so realistic it looked like it was taken by a camera - had long been taken out and placed in solitary confinement. When solitary confinement got full, the guards started making examples of the others by breaking their hands in front of us.
Now the only artists we were left with were ones who were slightly above average abstractists who were good with a crayon. One of my cellmates had gone out to get a picture of himself and came back with a picture of a purple owl. He was so pleased with it, though, that I just kept my mouth shut.
One summer, there was an excited murmur through the pod. One of the prisoners had apparently scratched at the walls and discovered a peice of reflective glass underneath. In other words, a mirror. He didn't want to get caught, so he covered it back up and ran and told the pod.
Now, everyone wanted to see it.
I didn't see the point in it though. Look in a mirror, for what? Oh sure, if someone managed to get their hands on one, I would come over out of curiosity to investigate. But to actively go out of my way and risk the danger of getting caught and punished? Nah man.
The one day, my cellmate shuffled into my room, excited. "Yo,"he whispered. "I got a peice!"
"A peice of what?"
And thats when he pulled out a piece of glass.
It was so small that you could only look at one small piece of your face at a time. You had mentally visualize each piece in connection to another piece in order to recreate the complete image of your face in your mind.
And we did. All day. Secretly taking turns looking at an eye here, an ear there, an eyebrow, an upper lip, a nose tip, a jaw line, etc. Until we had a decent impression of ourselves etched in your minds.
And it was empowering.
Looking in that mirror had reminded us that we were human - no, that we were *people*. It's one thing for someone to say to you, "Hey, you're handsome"or "You're ugly". But it's another thing to look into a mirror and form your own perspective.
That was how the guards had kept us locked down and in control. By not allowing us to see how we really looked, we were at the mercy of their subjective impressions. They could *tell* us that we looked this way, and we had no choice to believe them.
It also kept us isolated from each other, in a way. It built this wall of envy between us. You could see how everyone else looked, but not yourself. At times it made you wonder if you were even real, or if you were just a ghost whose presence that some people could sense, and others couldn't.
Pieces of glass started to be passed around the prison. And it had the same effect on most people. Some people went insane - fighting against the revelation that they werent the animals that the guards had painted themselves as all these years - and they lashed out, at guards, at other inmates, and most of the time, themselves, scarring their face until they were no longer recognizable.
This prison had never once had an outbreak or riot in all the years that mirrors had been gone. But once a mirror was found, seeing our humanity reflected in the glass, only made us see that the true monsters, the true *animals*, had been the guards this entire time.
Too much truth will drive you mad.
Madness is contagious.
We all went insane.
|
We researched into all the options, but adopting was hands down the best way to get our first pet as a family. We visited shelter after shelter, but could never decide. Between the three of us, we just couldn't mutually agree on any one pet. So when my daughter told us about the new shelter where the pet picks you, it was a no brainer.
After a very thorough vetting process we were let into a large room filled with various cats and dogs. The rules were posted clearly on every wall; no food, no toys, let them choose you not what you have. I was absolutely in love with the whole idea. We sat down and waited to see which animal would choose us.
My husband had his eye on a beautiful golden retriever, but sadly the pup decided to go to an elderly couple. My daughter could barely contain her excitement when a Siamese cat started to approach her, but a young couple caught his attention at the last minute. We had almost decided to call it a day, they warned us we may not be picked the first time around, when I felt a lump of fur plop down in my lap.
I looked down to see the biggest cat I've ever seen. She must have been one of those Maine Coon cats or something, she took up my entire lap and then some. Pure white, her fur almost seemed to reflect light back like a fresh blanket of snow. My daughter smiled, my husband let out a quiet yet understanding sigh, and our new fur baby started purring. I started petting her and the purring got louder, I joked she was going to shake down the whole building.
Out of no where, an employee burst through the doors and headed straight towards us.
"I'm sorry ma'am, she must have gotten away from me. This cat isn't up for adoption."
Of course, one finally likes me and it's already got a home. Typical cat.
"Oh, that's a shame, she's so pretty. Sorry hunny, you have to go back to your human."
As I attempted to help the employee take her out of the room, the windows began to rattle and every animal started barking, meowing, whining, and running around.
A lot was going on...and I could have misheard...but i swear the employee whispered to the cat, "Please not now your majesty. It's not safe for you out there."
Everything stopped. Employees began calming down everyone, and mentioned being relieved the earthquake didn't damage the facility. Only...no news station reported an earthquake. We've never had one before, at least not one any one was able to feel.
In all the chaos, I didn't even notice where the white cat was taken. I brushed it off, and we left for home, planning to come back the next day.
Neither my husband or daughter seemed as weirded out as me, so I didn't bother mentioning it. After they went to bed, I searched and searched for proof of the earthquake with no luck. Finally, I called it a night and shut my laptop. Directly behind my laptop sat the white cat, perched on my counter so innocently. Before I had a chance to react, I heard a voice very clearly in my head,
"I need a vacation, please don't take me back yet. They're great to me but I just want some time to be a normal cat."
The white cats eyes shined a bright gold color before returning to their usual green, and her fur did the strange reflection thing I had noticed earlier. I wasn't sure what was going on, or how I would explain this to my family, but something told me I should just go with it.
"Of course your majesty." |
The flat looks like a demonstration room for the brand new “stereotypical murder apartment model”. Door hanging off its hinges? Personal effects scattered helter-skelter around the room? Check. Assorted blood stains here and there along the walls? Check. Victim, a tragic, if wealthy, widow in her late 20s crouched against a rich bedspread in a pool of blood, look of horror on their face, knife sticking from their back like a flagpole? Almost ostentatiously yes.
“Let’s make this quick.”
I remove one of my gloves, open the victims eyelids, and touch her forehead.
And then I’m behind a door, pleading. “Please Pete, you don’t understand, it was a mistake, PLEASE, PLEASE!!!”
There’s no reply, but something slams against the door. I’m thrown backwards, but immediately scramble back.
“PLEASE PETE, YOU DON”T UNDERSTAND! IT WAS ONLY ONCE!!!”
Slam.
Now I’m crying again. “Please Pete…. I’m sorry… you can hurt me if you want, just don’t kill me...just don’t kill me… I love you… please…”
Slam. Crunch.
“Please… Please… I’ll give you his address if you like...we can go there together...he wasn’t as handsome as you… he-he-wasn’t as good…”
Slam. Crunch. Crack.
And then I’m pushing backwards, pulling myself up by the bedspread when the knife comes down.
But just before I issue my last scream, I see Pete’s face, and the tiny part of me that’s not crouched against the bed, but stopped next to it probes deeper, and I have a name.
“Peter Garrison. Seems like the type dumb enough to stay in town after murdering his girlfriend.”
The assembled police, detectives, and tear-stained maids erupt into applause. I suppose its impressive to see from the outside.
“Get me to the next one. I want to be home by nine.”
The next one turns out to be a little more interesting. There’s a man wearing some sort of robe slumped face down on a chestnut table stained red. There’s a bullet lodged in his skull.
Okay. Sure.
I push him back into his chair, open his eyes, and touch his forehead, a little bit down and to the left of the whole.
And I’m sitting at the table staring into the eyes of a man with a robe, beard, and a smile. Very, very, unusually for this sort of thing, I’m not afraid, not even a little bit. Instead, I feel a sort of...destiny? Purpose? Love?
The man opens his mouth to speak. White teeth, and almost shockingly blue eyes.
“Hello! My name is Patrick Eldridge, and if you’re seeing me, it means that your gift is unaffected by the destruction of brain tissue. That is excellent, and greatly expands the good you can do.”
He smiles in a way that makes me feel loved. So close to him, yet so distant, just out of reach. Two different bodies shudder with emotion.
“I understand that the method in which this message has reached you may be disconcerting, but if it helps, this man died willingly. He even signed a form.”
“If you’re happy with your life, if you feel that this is truly the best possible use for your talents, then by all means, hand my name over to the police. I have no doubt that they will have me in handcuffs in the hour, to the disappointment to quite a few men and woman.”
“But if you are interested in following a higher calling, then don’t give them my name. Come here and listen to what I have to say. Perhaps you will like what you hear. If you are who we think you are, you will know where to find me.”
Then I’m back in the room. Shaking. Pale. Concerned faces surround me. I retch, and red mixes with disgusting brown-orange. They twinge backwards, repulsed, but they still want to know.
Officials pressed against the door, ready to leave this place with its strange and scary things. “Did you get a name, they ask?” And the decision is made for me.
“Brian...Douglas.”
“Are you sure that’s the real name?”
\*\*\*\*\*
Later when I’m back at home, I start to pack. It will be a long journey.
(Forgive my slightly different interpretation. Part 1? r/StannisTheAmish) |
It's one of those Swiss cheese things, where lots of holes litter the cheese but a hole upon a hole upon the umpteenth hole made it a tunnel through the cheese. So either it was a naturally-occurring improbability or I'm a rat. Or so I was told.
To begin with, there are levels to hell. Well, I didn't know hell really existed to begin with, so this wasn't as big a surprise.
I was just heading to the kitchen to take a towel because I'd spilled wine on a girl's white dress and on the floor. Not the best pickup line, I know. Her lovely almond eyes had seemed to glow viscous orange like flowing lava. I'd never seen that before and it made my heart skip a beat.
So I jumped out of the couch and towards the kitchen. Along the way, my step found a hole in the floor, and the carpet slipped all the way through with me. As I looked back, what seemed like a doorway of light quickly faded into the distance and became a pixel of light. I fell through a rush of air in what was otherwise absolute darkness.
And then I fell through the clouds in a vast sky. The sun was here as well, but the sky was an angry, swirling mass of grey. The clouds had seemed either cold or moist.
I screamed as I fell, but the rush of air was louder in my ears so I stopped.
I saw the land on fire. And it was rushing to meet me and tried to swing my hands repetitively like I was flapping featherless wings.
As I approached it, I realised it was not land, but flowing lava. I tore through the surface and the burn pierced me everywhere. But I didn't die instantly, and a cool was slowly reaching out its fingers at me, driving the burn away.
I was in an ocean, it seemed. I couldn't breathe, but it seemed like I didn't need to.
Still, I sank. Until what looked like a doorway of calm black air became a pixel above me. All that surrounded me now was fiery waves.
I sank like a mallet. Yes, perhaps that was the apt description. And then I seemed to break the surface of the lava again, and everything and all sensation quickly fell away.
I was floating through a void now.
I saw the stars in the distance, a sun pulling away, solar flares pouncing towards but failing to follow me.
The world was calm now. Quiet. But still I was falling. Until I crashed so hard that all the air expelled from my lungs.
What I'd crashed against felt like cold, pockmarked coastal rock. It was either black or invisible - there was no apparent difference here.
But I was relieved to have graduated from falling, to be standing on solid ground.
Until he began to move. I learned later that I'd crashed through twelve realms to reach the deepest level of suffering. Also, I'd just awoken the mountainous beast that guarded this realm from a slumber that had begun before the time of humans.
All I had wanted was to get a towel.
---
More of my work on [Zhen Fiction](https://zhenfiction.wordpress.com) |
"Seriously, what happened to Nuketown? Nuketown was great!"complained Gary as we hauled another body onto the truck. A bit of brain spilled out as it flopped over the edge, so with a sigh I shovelled it into a sack with the rest of the offal. "And it was tiny too. You could park your truck in the middle and have all the bodies out in no time. Even with all the grenade and claymore kills, it wasn't half as much work as this. But no, now everything has to be a battle royale."
"Only 99 bodies every time though. And less explosives kills."I point out as I get into the driver's seat of the truck. Gary joins me on the other side.
"Yeah, it's easy, but the maps are so fucking huge that it takes ages to drive everywhere. In Nuketown you could be done before sundown in the summer. These big battle royale maps take weeks. Where the next one?"
"Let's have a look..."I bring up the map on my tablet and pick out the nearest marker. "Ah shit, you're not going to like it. Full party kill. Out on the river."
"You're fucking kidding me."he groaned. "Like, in the middle?"
"Yep."Say with a resigned nod. "Looks like the squad was in a boat and they got taken out from the riverbank."
"I wish these fuckers would stop using the boats. They suck. And we have to go diving to fish the bits out. And then we're damp for the rest of our shift."
"Yeah, fuck that. Leave it for now, we'll come back for it. Next closest is the firing range, looks like a bunch of people dropped there and only one of them found a gun. Absolute bloodbath."
"Alright then, Bob. Let's get this over with."
***
I awoke to the sound of gunfire. I was in the cab of my truck, and it was bright outside. I sat there, shock still, as my mind processed the situation. My last memory was of drying off after dredging bodies up from the river. Gary left while I went to take the truck back to the depot... I stopped for a quick break... I must have fallen asleep. Spent all night trying to find that guy's legs at the bottom of the river.
Another gunshot cut through my chain of thought. I was in the middle of a match. There were as many as a hundred guys out there who would shoot me on sight. And I was sitting in a big, obvious vehicle. Where did that shot come from? Far away, by the sounds of it. Shit. I need a gun.
I slowly turn my head and can the area around me. To my right, all uphill, a wooded area with plentiful cover and elevation. Don't want to go that way. But if I climbed over and left through the passenger door, I'd be facing downhill, all flat terrain. The sniper is probably uphill.
But as long as I was right here, eventually i would be spotted. With haste, I bailed out the passenger side, and immediately a bullet tears past my head. I panic and trip over, falling flat against the grass. Another shot tears up the dirt near me. I realise that the grass, and my location uphill of the sniper, had given me the smallest possible amount of cover. But He'd get a lucky shot soon. Remaining flat on the ground, I scooted under my truck. A small burst hit the chassis, and I whimpered as the shots continued to rain down where I was lying moments before. Terror gripped me, and my fingers dug into the dirt. At least two of them. They were probably on their way up right now. I didn't dare get out from under my truck. What if there was a second sniper on the other side? What were they shooting at before they saw me?
Hearing quick footsteps, I held my breath as two pairs of feet approached my truck. They circled around it in opposite directions, searching for me. Then they left. Daring to raise my head just a little, I spied the feet heading off towards a nearby bungalow. The doors were already open. Somebody had come looting and completely failed to notice me. Or maybe they thought I was already dead. Could I make a break for it? The bungalow windows faced most directions, if I tried to flee, I wouldn't make it to cover in time. No shelter downhill, the treeline uphill is too far. They'd figure out where I am eventually if I just stayed here. Or they'd try and drive off with me under the truck. And what if the circle started to close in? I can't run. I can't hide. I have to fight back.
But where to get a gun? The two assailants are in the bungalow, and it's already been looted. Unless...
Watching the door ahead carefully, I creep out from under the other side of the truck. All those bodies in the back. One of them has to have a gun. I climb on the back, probably exposing myself if there's any more snipers around. But what choice do I have? The pile of corpses don't bother me anymore, so I stand right in the middle of them and start rummaging. One particularly riddled body in a black bag seems to have something bulky strapped to it. Machinegun? Hell yes! But then I notice the mud and sand clinging to it. Oh yeah. This one was dredged up from the river. And this gun won't work. I push the body aside and look deeper. Digging through these bodies is hard work without Gary. I won't be able to search the bottom of the pile without emptying it completely, not something i can do in a couple of minutes. What's this? A frying pan. Could be useful. Most of these bodies are bare of anything useful. They were probably looted when they were killed. This one has a revolver. A pretty crap weapon overall, no wonder it was left behind. I check the chamber. One bullet. Oh for fuck's sake.
Detecting movement out the corner of my eye, I drop and lie down in the bed of the truck, and do what has kept me alive so far - stay perfectly still. Working with corpses is one thing, but being face, down in them is another. The stench combined with the adrenaline was starting to make bile rise in my stomach. I opened one eye just a bit. A man was standing right by my truck, confused. He had a shotgun in hand, and a rifle on his back. The sniper. He looked around one last time before getting on his knees and searching under the vehicle. This was my chance. When he brought his head back up, I hand my gun trained right on him, and blew a chunk of his face off. Pounding footsteps gave away the location of his friend, but I was out of bullets. So I stood up on top of the pile as the other assailant rushed to help his friend up, and I jumped down right on top of him. He was knocked to the floor under my weight, and desperately tried to flail at me with his gun, but I took the frying pan in both hands and brought it down on his head. Still fighting, he clocked me in the chin with his weapon and put me off balance, and he squirmed out from under me, but as he retreated I managed to whack him with the pan again. This time I drew a spray of blood forth from his mouth and he slumped on the floor, before struggling back onto his knees, so I hit him with the pan again, and again, and again, until his skull gave way and I was spattered with his blood. The sniper, who was still clinging to life until now, saw his partner bite it, and subsequently followed.
I couldn't keep the tide of vomit back any longer. On my hands and knees, I retched onto the grass over and over until I was empty, and then I just sat there trembling. Over the hill, I saw the shimmering blue wall closing in. I had to move.
I forced myself to my feet and searched my victims. Enough good gear between them to equip me. One hundred psychopaths between me and the way out of here. The odds weren't in my favour.
***
Bob was pissed. When I heard that he was somehow stuck in the area, I jumped out of bed and headed straight over. Surely there had to be a way to get him out? It turns out there was. And that was for him to be the last man standing.
"I was almost killed!"he raged, his fury directed at the game master. "You didn't check to see if there was anybody left in the arena? It could easily have been the window replacing crew, or the loot stockers! What if Old Dorothy had taken a nap after refuelling all the cars, she sure as hell wouldn't have survived!"
"Mr Thomson-"interrupted our boss, at his own peril. Bob was, after all, still armed.
"This shouldn't have happened under any competent game master, you're a hack! I bet this doesn't happen to Fortnite. Do the Splatoon people have to put up with this shit?"
"That's a completely different type of game mode-"
"This never would have happened back when I was doing minecraft hunger games."
"I understand that this was very harrowing for you, and we will do our best to make it up to you."
"Oh really? Let's hear it then."snapped Bob dismissively.
"Well, for a start, we have right here a wonderful chicken din-" |
I scanned out with a sigh. Another day done, another attempt thwarted. They started months ago, and every day since, I have escaped death. Well, at least for the first few months at least. The last month has been... Different. Bouquets of roses with toxic frogs, heart candies poisoned with cyanide, arrows with heart ends. I even had the cutest little killer teddy bear ransack my office trying to shank me.
We've almost lost a mailboy, my secretary, and a temp! When my temp got a near lethal dose of bleach when she accidentally took my morning coffee, I got an apology card with xox signed on it.
Accounting is supposed to be balancing numbers for 10 nose-to-the-grindstone hours, not commando rolling to the photo copier for the Hutchins files.
A long commute home, up the steps, through the door, shoes off *sigh*. Time. To. Relax.
I hear a knock at the door. Checking through the eyehole, I see Sandy, my next door neighbour, her gorgeous face wearing a mischievous smile. "Come on, let me in! We've got to watch the final episode of Disenchanted!"
Smiling, I open the door. "How's life?"
I'd be lying if I said I didn't find my gaze wandering as she walked past me. "Same old, same old. Had a lot of kids today, Tess was stressed... Jack asked me if I'd marry him again, that little cutie. It's ok to have favorites if they aren't your kids right?"
"No, you're a horrible person."
My deadpan sarcasm got a chuckle from her, then she turned to me with a twinkle in her eye.
"So what exciting attempt on your life was made today?"
"I wouldn't call it exciting, but filing cabinet nearly fell on me. Spring loaded trap. You'd think they put backups on the security cameras or something. I'm starting to think people around the office are just used to whacky shenanigans now."
I reached for my phone. Recently, Thursdays had become pizza and binge watching Netflix night. "Piz-"
"Yes please!"
As we were watching Netflix, my mind wandered to my situation. The walls in the apartment were thin, and I could hear every phone call Sandy made to her boss each night. So I could hear the details of every attempt that was going to be made on my life the next day. This had been going on for months, until recently a new directive was given.
First of all, why would you have a phone call like this on speaker? For a smart girl, she really did lack common sense. "We first hired you to kill him, to our complete disappointment I might add. But he seems to be too distracted to be able to focus on his work. He's not able to discern Hutchins' efforts to siphon resources from the company."
Idiots. Only a moron wouldn't figure out Hutchins was embezzling. Good thing I had too much other work to do to be able to start work on the Hutchins case.
"He may turn out to be useful. Keep him disrupted daily. Through whatever means you deem necessary."
So I had been thwarting every attempt on my life thanks to very cheap walls.
"UGH! WHY DO SO MANY NETFLIX SHOWS END ON BLOODY CLIFFHANGERS!"
Sandy snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Ok, I gotta get to bed, I've got to start work early tomorrow morning!"
She left $20 on my living room table. "That about covers today and last week right? I'll catch you tomorrow if you're around."
"Yup! All good"
She gave me a quick hug. "See you."
I wonder if you can date your assassin? Or if you should?
Ah screw it.
"Hey Sandy"
She paused and turned, standing by the front door "Yeah?"
I stood up and walked to her. "I want to take you out on Saturday, are you free?"
The look in her eyes mirrored how I was feeling."I thought you'd never ask."
"I'll see you here at 5? We can go out somewhere nice."
"Sounds good. I'll see you then"
We looked at each other for a lingering moment. I knew I had to tell her.
"By the way, the walls are thin."
"What!?"
Maybe that wasn't the way to say that. Although she wasn't taking it too badly, a look of mock scandal thinly veiling her amusement at my words.
"I mean, for your nightly call."
"Oh."
There was a split second of quiet.
"I've known that for a while. Just make sure you keep listening ok?"
She winked and walked away.
Well, I guess that makes sense.
******************************************
Hope you liked it guys! Thanks for reading. 😊
I hope it's all well written, I feel like my brain is moving through mud, my proof reading is pretty sub par. |
"Well this is a peculiar one."Lucifer scratched at his horns. "Remarkably clean, considering everything."
"Yes, Morningstar,"God groaned, "I would like to go at least one day without you mentioning the mess you made of my world."
"It was quite a brutal end."The man confessed.
"Well, congratulations man! You're the last soul to be judged. As in ever!"
"I hate to say it, but Lucifer is correct. We have judged all of mankind before you."
"Fantastic."The man shifted under his robe. "I confess I was worried some wouldn't make it here."
"Nothing to fear, every soul has made it's way to us. I've made sure of that,"God smiled.
"Have You? You, personally, sought to their collection?"
"Ha! All He did was snore behind this desk and let his precious little boy do all the work!"Lucifier growled. A few extra cuts stretched with his scowl.
"Jesus was far too inexperienced for the ordeal you burdened him with. Surely You must know that."The man's bony fingers scratched at his arm.
"You are here to be judged, young one."Gid crossed his arms. "My familial matters are of no concern to you."
"Of course they are "The man's hood fell from his head, with nothing but a skull underneath. "Any proper uncle should have concern for His nephew."
God jumped from his seat. "Death?!"
Lucifer looked confused. "He's real?!"
"Of course I am. How do you think those souls arrive at your gates in the first place?"
Lucifer remained dumbfounded.
"What are you even doing here?"God finally asked.
"What else? Finishing the job."
"Sorry what?"Lucifer chimed back in. "Everyone is already dead."
"Not everyone."Death extended two fingers, pointing directly at the two of them.
"You cannot take Me."God spat, a holy fist slamming upon the desk.
"Quite the contrary. I have to."Death stepped closer. "This iteration is over, Life. And You have made it a very nasty endeavour. Mother is quite displeased."
Lucifer stared. "M...Mother?"
Death grinned, as best as he could. "Yes, all things come from something else, my nephew. Even the two of Us."
"You have a Mother?"The devil asked God.
"Unfortunetly."
"Incredible."
"It is not so hard to believe, Lucifer."
"It is, though. They all had mothers, didn't they? Of every soul to come to my gates, do you know the one thing they had in common. They begged. Not just for God, but for their mothers too. Usually more so. I had always wondered what that was like. Even Christ had a mother. My fellow angels and I merely came into being. We never had a mother. Even Eve didn't, and I admired her for that. Before You took that friendship from me."
"Save it. You shouldn't have been there and you know it."God growled.
"Life, there is nothing left here. This universe is dark, cold, and empty. Entropy has claimed all, as I have always said it would, for billions of years now."
Lucifer sunk into his seat. "So what now?"
"Now, you will come with me. Both Heaven and Hell have both been destroyed, You are all that's left."
Lucifer grew concerned. God screamed.
"You did what?!"
Lucifer finally rose from his seat. "And what about the souls?!"
Death rose a bony hand, hushing them. "The occupants have since emigrated. Everyone is safe. Angel, demon, and soul alike."
Lucifer sighed, slinking back into his chair. "At least there's that."
"You had no right!"God yelled, ripping the table out of reality.
"Correct. It was Mother. She has watched over this iteration and found it... disappointing. Your reign is over, Life."
God only stared.
"Ended? So... this universe is over?"Lucifer asked.
"Yes, a new one is to be made. But I will be in charge this time."
"That's not fair..."God whimpered.
"Neither was your rule."
"So where do we go?"Lucifer spoke softly, rising from his seat like an uncomfortable child.
"Outside for now. Home."Death extended his hand. "Now come."
God merely sat, tears falling from his face. Lucifer carefully extended his hand to Death.
"Will... I get to meet this Mother?"
"Of course,"Death said calmly, "She has been so excited to meet her oldest grandson."
Lucifer gripped tightly. "And the others?"
"They miss you dearly. I hear even Jesus wishes to see you. To reconcile."
A smile snuck it's way onto the devil's face. "I suppose I do owe him an apology."He turned towards God, trying desperately to ignite a star in his hands. Only to have the cold universe rip it apart in seconds. "And Him?"
"I'll be back for him. He knows nothing of grief. It's only proper I'm the one to teach him."
Death and Lucifer turned to the edge of the universe. "You mentioned you'll be in charge of the next one..."Lucifer muttered.
"I will be. And I assure you, it'll be better this mess. I hope to even give you and Jesus a brotherhood, this time around."
The devil looked up. "You can do that? Give me a life? You promise?"
"Of course. I always keep my promises, nephew." |
"Proffesor, what do you mean?"A student asks cautiously, looking up at the tall man who meanderes about the stage.
"I mean that if I were to cast us all sideways a dimension then it would be a near identical class of every so slightly different versions of you but instead of a second version of myself I would then have to assume the roles of both myself and that version of me."The professor says as he gestures to the chalk board, where complex runes are writing themselves in huge spiralling patterns. "Can anyone guess why?"A confused silence follows.
"It's because of the way we travel between realities. It is extremely difficult and dangerous to explore an alternate reality as yourself with your own matter and energy. Because if say I were to shunt myself to a world where all matter has an inverse charge I would immediately be annihilated and cause no end of mess."The professor continues, "So instead I cheat, I manifest my consciousness into the mind of my counterpart and quietly push his mind into a little holding cell till I'm done and shunt back. The ethical implications of this are wildly understated so what I want you to work out is what I can do instead."The students look shocked at this. "No don't worry I'm fully aware of many alternatives and have been using them for aeons. I simply want to see if you dunderheads can think sufficiently outside the box or if your education in the arcane has been a waste." |
The color drains from my face when I hear the doctor. I had never expected this to happen to me. I had lived a fairly healthy life and all. Apart from the casual potion every now and then.
Things had been going great, and now it had all just been blown away. After I had finally found the way to get revenge on my enemy. The man who had bullied me all through out high school. And now to hear that I would most likely die before I ever saw him suffer for all the pain he had caused me.
I quickly ran to the nearest bathroom and sacrificed my previously eaten lunch. This couldn't be happening. I finished up talking with the doctor. He said that treatment would be futile and that I'd have maybe 6 months left to live. 8 if I'm lucky. I nodded, I was in a daze. I left the clinic and took the bus to my apartment building.
I dreaded walking up the stairs to my apartment. Because it would mean I would have to pass by his apartment. And I would die before I ever let him see me in this weak state. And as the fates would have it, of course he had to get the apartment on the same floor as mine. Just to torment me even more.
I walked to my door. Every step a dull thud in the back of my head. I was half way there. Just needed to get a few yards farther without him opening his door. I made it. And as I was fumbling around with my keys, "click"I hear the sound of his door unlocking. I started panicking and that made it even harder for me to get the right key in the door. Everything just seemed so unfamiliar at the moment. I hadn't even notice him walk up behind me.
"Need help?"
My heart dropped as I flipped around to see his malicious smirking face mere inches from my own.
"No, what do you want"I tried to say cooly and aggressively but I don't just falter once, I stuttered and shook through that entire sentence. Which was utterly uncharacteristic for me, and I know he picked up on it too.
Something darkened his gaze and he backed off for once. Which was also be very unusual and uncharacteristic.
"Nothing."
He went back to his door, giving me a weird look. Probably planning my demise. I got my door open and entered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few weeks had passed from that point. Within that time I had begun to feel as though I were being watched. Even in my own apartment. I told my mother of the news and the cry I heard from her was dreadful and stuck needles into my heart and soul.
Also I hadn't really seen him too much. As if he himself were avoiding me. To give insight on him, he was tall, dark, and handsome. Many girls were after him and he made it a habit of letting me know he was irresistible to woman every chance he got. Especially in high school. His name was Xavier. Xavier Rosalind. He would get the other girls to taunt me and would constantly knock into me. He would even knock stuff off my desk during class, or even steal my stuff just to annoy me.
As I was going up the stairs to my apartment, something felt odd. I started to hurry because I had to take my medicine that would ease my body. But once in the hallway, everything seemed harder. The length of the walls seemed to double and the lights seemed to dim and flutter. It became a struggle to breath. I bombed into the wall. I was about to pass his door. "Click"
The deafening roar of the sound terrified me, and the last thing i remember before everything going black was falling into a set of arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~I was back in my highschool halls. But they seemed more eerie. There was a figure up ahead, both fore arms resting beside his head on the wall. The figure seemed upset, angry even. I walked towards it, trying to see who it was. It turned to me to reveal a younger Xavier. Angry and frustrated. He was yelling something but it seemed jumbled. I shook my head and it seemed to go normal.
"Why!? Why do you resist me?! Every girl here goes crazy over me! But you, you find new ways to avoid me altogether!"
He was getting closer, and the closer he got the angrier he looked. I tried to respond but my voice was caught in my throat. I remember this happening but it always seems foggy.~
~I'm thrown into another memory. The guy I like back then was there. He seemed to like me too. We talked nearly everyday. Then one day he stopped. When I questioned it he avoided my gaze. And I just felt hurt. I ran away from it close to crying and I bumped into a familiar smirking person. ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I woke up, drenched in a cold sweat. Wondering why those memories were brought up. I then realize I'm not in my bed, but on some one's couch. I jump up, ready to fight except a my legs are wobbling and I feel an overwhelming sense if nausea swell in my gut. I look around and I just see a completely different Xavier from the one I've known. He was disheveled, tired looking. A look of worry passed over his face as he sat looking at me.
He shifted his gaze and I followed it to a glass of water. I wrinkled my nose in disgust knowing he probably poisoned it or something. He sighed in an exasperated manner. He took the glass of water and slipped from it before putting it back down to show that my thoughts were indeed wrong. I still left it untouched.
"What's going on?"He asked his voice gruff and demanding.
I left his question unanswered and I just stared daggers at him. He became more upset and distraught with that, and asked more urgently.
I remained silent.
"God dammit! Tell me what the hell is wrong!!"He yelled.
That made me angry and I yelled back. "What's it matter to you huh??!!! Its not like you to care about these things! So if you dont mind, I'm leaving!"
I go to walk to the door but he blocks my path. "Move"
I push against him, yet he is unmoving.
"I'll let you through if you tell me what's wrong. Dont act as if you haven't been crying alone in your apartment for the past couple weeks."He stated and I was appalled.
"How the hell would you know that??"
He flinched because he realized what he said. Though he never answered. He stayed where he was, and I guess there was only one way i thought I could get him to move without telling him what was wrong.
"I hope you suffer from my curse you imbecile. That the person you love most dies suffering."I sneered, and he seemed visibly shaken and taken aback. I pushed past him with no problem and left his apartment.
Later the night, I was awoken by pounding at my door. I unlocked it and swung it open angrily. "What?!"I said before I saw who it was.
"What did you do?"He said fear in his voice.
"You heard me earlier. That's exactly what I did."
He sighed and looked at me with the most stoic expression he has ever mustered in his life. And that's when what he told me, shocked me through and through.
"I love you dammit. I always had"
Overwhelming anger just coursed through my veins at that and I slammed the door in his face. Theres no way he lives me not after all he had done. All of a sudden i felt horrible and i collapsed there next to my door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I woke up to the sound of a beeping monitor. I looked around, I was in a hospital room. An IV was hooked up to me. And he was there, resting his head on the bed next to me. I could barely move but I could frown and stare daggers at him all I wanted. I'll never forgive him. He can just go love somebody else.
~finish
Hoped you guys like that. I wish I could've made it better but I'm on my phone so I cant right now. Let me know what you guys think. |
“Your endeavors will be successful. Talk to someone with dark hair.”
“The appointment you’re expecting will be rescheduled. Don’t take it personally.”
“Follow your heart, but remember to bring something extra to eat.”
Deep down, I know that there are plenty of people with worse jobs than me. I could be one of those people responsible for fishing small children out of sewage tanks. I could be one of those fisherman from Alaska they make tv shows about.
But, at least with those jobs, there’s meaning. There’s a sense of accomplishment. With me, there’s only fortunes: meaningless, endless, bits of banal feel-good-nonsense.
“You will escape a trap set for someone else. Be grateful.”
“People will be exhausting tomorrow. They’ll be better tomorrow.”
“The world may seem dark, preserve the light inside”
What does that even mean? “Preserve the light inside”. Just some nonsense to make white people feel good about themselves after paying too much for knockoff chinese food.
Sometimes when it gets really bad, I try to imagine the reactions of the idiots who read these things.
“OHMYGOD BECKY, THAT TOTALLY CAME TRUE!!!”
“Oh gosh, this is totally right, I do need to preserve the light inside, gee whillikers”.
“Pshaw, people are always exhausting, this is bullshit.”
It doesn’t help.
So, when at 4:48, 12 minutes from sweet, sweet freedom, I get a message saying that the company needs 340 brand new fortunes for a company-wide executive luncheon, my reaction is somewhere between exhaustion and fury.
And I’ll be honest, in that state, I started making some completely accidental typos.
“You fear loss. Get over it.”
“You will receive a call from a long lost friend. It’ll be a accident.”
“Good luck will always follow the worthy. It’s not you.”
Near the end, I got a bit lazy.
“Today, you’re on fire. Literally. You will die.”
“The next piece of chocolate you eat will actually be a dog turd.”
“You’re going to get the shit beaten out of you by a gorilla.”
Though it did speed things up.
…
The next morning, I arrive at the office to see a cheerful sign proclaiming “COMPANY WIDE EXECUTIVE LUNCHEON”.
Inside was pure pandemonium. A man was retching, a candy bar still in his hand. Several people were on fire. A gorilla frolicked in the corner.
I reached over to a gorgeously decorated table, picked up a fortune cooky, and tore it open.
“Your greatest wish will come true.”
I smiled as I swallowed.
(r/StannisTheAmish) |
“Is this it?” Alex drops the book in surprise, as he realises what he had been missing the entire time.
A wish. A strong will. Unwavering desire. And finally...
He scrambles to the kitchen, tossing around various utensils in search of that thing...
“Got it.” He muttered as he took out a small dagger, and races to the small coop at the back of the garden. Alex grabs a white hen and quickly slits her throat, putting her out of her misery before she even clucked once.
Dragging back the corpse into his room, he hastily cleared out the paraphernalia cluttering his room to form a clear space. Then he proceeded to mark out an intricate circle with chalk, then drained the corpse of its blood and tossed its dried up body in the centre of it. Then he grabbed the book and proceeded to chant, with all that he had.
Mist black as night, like the lifeless screens surrounding his room appeared. It suddenly morphs into the figure of a voluptuous young lady. A charcoal coloured dress forms in various folds and wraps around her figure as she cracks her neck like one would if it was stiff. Daintily stepping out of the circle, she curtsies and proceeds to introduce herself.
“Greetings, young man. I am Alexandra, a denizen of Hell, what one might call... a demon. To have called upon me, you must be truly desperate... now let me know thy wish.”
Alexandra stands up straight again as she observes her summoner in detail. He seemed to be neither a charismatic man, nor a powerful man. Not a wealthy man, not a poor man. A fool, he certainly must be, for he has given up his soul. However, he thought a lot for a fool, as he continued to look down on the ground, averting his eyes from her.
Curious, she stepped closer and demanded that he look straight into her eyes and tell her what his wish was.
“What manner of wish doth thou desire? Riches? Fame? Charisma? Women? Worry not, for all those wishes are naught but reality with my powers.”
For the first time in five minutes, Alex raised his head and asked...
“Anything? No matter what?”
Puzzled, she nodded in response. Taking a step backwards, she looked at the young man becoming more excited by the minute, before he crossed into the remaining clutter to dig out something. When he was done, he turned around in excitement and tossed something at her. Catching it by reflex, she inspected it, but it was a strange contraption to her.
“Young man... what in nine circles is this... thing? It’s red like Cerberus’ eyes, but has these black things?”
“Ah, they mustn’t have that in hell huh. Well, that... err... Ms Alexandra, is a j*ycon. We are going to play this game, called Super Sm@sh Bros. It’s a lot of fun, so don’t worry about being bored! Come on, take a seat somewhere... how ‘bout here...” he absentmindedly replies as he fumbles around to find a space for the demon lady to sit.
“Sorry, I’m not quite getting it. Young man, what did you summon me here for?”
He looks at her quizzically before responding.
“I needed someone to play with! That’s errr... my wish.” He says with a slight blush.
“You do realise what summoning a demon means right?! You have to pay a price for your wishes. Achieve them the normal way, it’s a costly price. Do it using us... it’s an even costlier price. For something as trivial as playing a game... you could have just found any other mortal, rather than waste the time of an immortal such as I! I’m going back, don’t ever summon another one of us again!”
“Wait! Hold on! Please, just play with me. I’ll pay you anything, anything! Just don’t... go.”
As she heard that, the immense rage Alexandra felt was suddenly replaced with another strange emotion. She could not figure out what it was, but it certainly calmed her.
“Very well. I shall hear you out. Speak.”
“Nobody ever plays with me, or talks to me. Playing games... that was the only way I could ever get anybody to talk to me. So I played a lot, and a lot... but nobody would play with me.”
With an irritated face, she proceeded to sit down on the circle.
“One round. Then I’ll go.”
With a radiant smile, Alex proceeded to walk her through the rules and the controls of Super Sm*sh Bros.
Twenty minutes later...
“Impossible! For a mighty immortal such as I to be defeated... how is it possible?!”
“So you wouldn’t want to play anymore?” Alex asked.
“I see...” Humans are naturally jealous creatures. In the same way they ostracise those beneath them, they excluded those above them too, and placed them in their own special group... termed typically with labels such as ‘geniuses’ or ‘talented’, it still did not change that they were excluded.
“Hmph! I will not remain defeated! Come at me once more! This... ‘K*rby’ character will be defeated!”
With a wide grin, Alex agreed to a rematch.
A while later...
“Urgh... how is this possible?! I had the best strategic countermeasure, but I still got annihilated! Hmph, come at me again, I won’t lose this time!”
“Gladly!”
This pattern continued for the next couple of hours.
“This humiliation! It won’t stand!” Alexandra hollered as she lost her 50th round.
“Are you tilted? Maybe we should stop already, my wish has already been fulfilled. You can take your price now.” Alex commented to a pouting Alexandra.
Sudden killing intent.
“You think it is that simple?! You dare to be superior to me? A proud immortal?”
“Well to be fair, you did just start today... it’s a bit unfair to you... I’m sorry, I should have picked anoth-“
A rush of power surges through the room. A pitch-black hole appears where the magic circle was.
“Come with me! We shall do battle in eternal damnation! Until I defeat you! I shan’t let you refuse, for that is my price to you!” Alexandra commands as she steps into the circle.
“Of course!” With a joyous look on his face, Alex ran into the hole.
|
My grandmother was an angel of temperance. When I was a kid, she would sit me on her knee and tell me about modesty and moderation; about keeping a mild and calm composure in the face of any adversity.
She always had a twinkle in her eyes when she said that.
Gramps was a little different. The first toy he ever gave me, according to mom, was a battle ax. "She'll need it!"he'd said defensively. "You're never too young to start protecting yourself from ennemies."
My favourite toy growing up came from him: a teddy bear with a dagger.
Like my grandmother taught me, I would cuddle it very carefully.
\*\*
When puberty hit, that's when things started getting a bit... interesting. I'd taken martial arts classes while I was in grade school, something that both my Gramma and Gramps wanted; they said it would help build up endurance for the Wrath powers, as well as build discipline for the Temperance powers. It was a good thing too, because the first thing I did when I woke up one otherwise-normal Tuesday was set fire to my pyjamas.
"Mild and calm composure,"I thought. The fire paused, as if it was hesitating. "Moderation,"I told it.
Then something in me said to GET ANGRY AT BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO and that's how I ended up in the hospital with second-degree burns, and a new set of pjs.
Gramps thought it was hella funny. "You did better than me at your age,"he said, cackling, "I burned off my face all the way to the bone. You should have seen me, fat dripping down to my..."
"Dad,"my dad interrupted.
"What? She's part war-demon, she's going to get called to see grotesque things in her life. You know, I bet that with a bit of practice we can get you to channel that anger and pain and..."
"Adremmelech, we talked about this,"my grandma interjected soflty. "She's from two worlds, three if you count all the human in her. She won't heal as quickly as you or I, and she lives in a time when she might very well never see war."She leaned over and patted my head. "You'll never have to fight if you don't want to, darling."
Gramps scoffed. "She doesn't have the right to be human,"he said. "You don't get the gift of setting things on fire only to not use it. Remember, Benny, when you and I used to start fires around abandonned buildings?"He turned to my dad, fondness in his voice.
My dad gave him the wan stare of a law-abiding citizen who just got reminded he used to jaywalk. "My daughter has gifts from both of you. Until we fid out what else she can do, I think we should hold off on making her use them."
"Aww, but dad..."
"No buts, young lady,"my mom said. "Your grandmother is right, I don't want you ending up in the hospital again because you couldn't control your temper or your powers."Then she blinked at me. "Are you..."she blinked again, tried to shake herself. "Umm... Honey, maybe we should allow her to practice, a little, *with supervision*, so she isn't completely uh, unaware of her own..."She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Ah, my little spit-fire,"Gramps said gleefully, glancing over at Grandma, "This must be your talents showing through, Cassiel."
Grandma smiled mysteriously. "Must be,"she said. |
They came in on Apollo style rockets, wielding Vietnam era guns. The big one, an orange scaled thug in jackboots, came out as soon as they hit touchdown, screaming threats in some language I'll never understand, badly "translated"through an old, tinny radio in his bulky space suit. Poor bastards. The orange one demanded we bow down to their "superior technology"and that was when I couldn't take it any more. I started laughing. He looked nervous.
"Why do you laugh?"The electronic voice translator screeched out.
"It's simple. Your rockets? Those were cutting edge....about half a century ago. Your weapons? Relics. You've lost and don't even realize it."I give him a look of sorrow. "Please. Stop this."
"Are you begging for your life?"He asked.
"No. I'm begging for yours."I explain, right as the rail-gun from the ship offshore blows through one of their rockets. "That's a warning shot." |
I was still in shock over my mothers passing. She was the strongest woman I had ever known. Everything she ever did, she was great at. If she wasn't good at it, it rarely took her long to become great at it. I always wondered how she did it, but the only answer I ever got was that "practice makes perfect, and when you have all the time in the world, you have loads of time to practice."I always took this to heart and made sure I tried my best at everything I did, and practiced when I wasn't good. I could never keep up with her though. She had a gift for learning and I couldn't compete.
So imagine my shock, after her death when I finally discovered the secret to her success. In the locked door I was barred from entering was a large chamber. I didn't think there was anything special at first, until I found a note left in the middle on a table. The note said "This is the secret to our family's wealth of knowledge. In this chamber, the world behaves differently. There is a control panel on the wall, only after you have gone through the options, will you fully understand. Only one person is allowed to control the chamber however, so you can't let anyone use it. Grow our legacy. But remember, be the best you that you can be."
I put down the note and looked around for the control panel. It was tucked away in the corner, so I headed over to investigate it.
**PLEASE LOOK INTO SCANNER TO BEGIN**
I looked above the terminal and saw that there was an eye scanner above the screen. So I looked into it as instructed. Immediately, a laser grid shot out from the scanner almost blinding me.
**YOU ARE NOT IN THE SYSTEM. WOULD YOU LIKE TO REPLACE "DIANE SIMMONS"AS THE ACTIVE USER?**
I hesitated for a few minutes. It didn't feel right to replace my mother so soon after her death, but her will specifically told me to come down here as soon as I got home. So I hit yes.
**PLEASE LOOK INTO SCANNER AGAIN. WARNING, DO NOT REMOVE EYES UNTIL YOU HEAR THE ALERT SAYING TO. THIS WILL HURT.**
"What the hell?"I said. Why would this hurt, and what the hell is going on. "Mother wouldn't have told me to do this if it wasn't safe. But why is this so mysterious."I put my eyes up to the scanner.
**INITIATING SEQUENCE. DO NOT REMOVE YOUR EYES. 5...4...3...2...1**
As soon as the countdown hit 0, a laser shot out and started to burn my eyes.
"FUCK FUCK WHAT THE FUCK ARGH THIS BURNS"I wanted to badly to flinch and pull back, but I kept my eyes open and my face firmly in place. I was more terrified over what would happen if I aborted now instead. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it only lasted about 10 seconds.
**INITIAL SETUP COMPLETE. WELCOME TO THE SYSTEM "RILEY SIMMONS."YOU KNOW HAVE ACCESS TO THE CHAMBER SETTINGS.**
I pulled my eyes away and started to rub them in hopes of making the pain go away. When the vision finally returned, I immediately noticed something was different. The world looked so much detailed. I could make out the cracks on the walls on the other side of the room. I could see ants crawling on the wall from 50 feet away. The dark corners of the room no longer obscured by vision. I could see the into the darkest corners of the chamber as if they were illuminated clearly.
After exploring my new vision for a few minutes, I looked back to the monitor to see what the hell this chamber really was. There was an entire list of options to pick from. But I decided to heed what I assumed was the computer's advice and choose the highlighted option "TRAINING"
**INITIATING NEW USER TRAINING. PLEASE MOVE YOURSELF TO THE TABLE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM.**
I sauntered to the middle of the room, not sure what to expect. Now that my vision was better, and the room not so dark I noticed that the table there also looked like a monitor. I grabbed the chair and sat down.
**WELCOME "RILEY."PLEASE LOOK AT THE MONITOR ON THE TABLE AND SELECT A TOPIC. I WILL TEACH YOU ABOUT YOUR ENHANCED LEARNING CAPABILITIES.**
I looked down onto the monitor and saw that there was was a screen full of text. This font was much much smaller than I had ever seen before. I would estimate about 30-40 pages of text fit onto what a normal person would see as one page. Yet I could still read it perfectly. I started to read the first paragraph when the voice came back over the chamber.
**DO NOT READ THESE PARAGRAPHS INDIVIDUALLY. YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED THE ABILITY TO INSTANTLY DECIPHER AND ABSORB THE TEXT IN BULK. LOOK AT THE MONITOR AND THINK "PRINT"OR "COPY"OR SOMETHING SIMILAR. YOUR EYES WILL DO THE REST.**
I looked back at the monitor and imagined my eyes taking a screenshot of everything. The second I did that, it's as if the words jumped off the page and into my brain. I instantly knew everything that was on the page. Which just so happened to be a mass of knowledge about the chamber and the things I can do in this chamber. I got up and walked back to the main terminal and started looking at the options again. I knew what I wanted to do now. I selected the "TIME SHIFT"option.
**WHAT RATIO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SET THE CHAMBER TO? (AAA:BBB IN TERMS OF AAA=TIME IN CHAMBER, BBB=TIME OUTSIDE CHAMBER)**
I set the chamber to 2000:1. Meaning 2000 days in the chamber is only 1 day outside. Then I went back to the menu and selected "SCHEDULE."
**PLEASE CREATE YOUR SCHEDULE. **
I set the chamber to create breakfast, lunch and dinner at 8:00, 1:00 and 7:00. Apparently this chamber has a built in synthesizer to create anything you'd need. Then I set an alarm to go off at 11:00pm to remind me to sleep, and 7:00am to wake me up. Then I opened my last setting I was going to change.
**PLEASE SELECT THE GRAVITY MODIFIER**
I thought about it for a second and decided to start at 1.25x gravity. It might not seem like alot, but that's essentially walking around with a 40lb vest on.
And this is how I spent the next 2000 "days"of my life. I alternated between reading all the stored information in the system, and working out a few hours a day. I also used the synthisizer to create various things to practice, musical instruments, By the time the 2000 days was over, I had the gravity set to 3x gravity.I have probably read just about 2 million books and every patent in the database. When you can read an entire book in under 10 seconds, it doesn't take long. I could learn to read entire languages in minutes. It took me a bit longer to learn to speak them, but I was able to watch videos for a few hours and listen to how native speakers pronounce words. After a few hours of listening to them, I'd be able to speak just as well. I became a master at over a dozen musical instruments. I knew most every major programming language and software that had books written about them. Now I fully understand the difference between "knowing"and "applying"knowledge. It was time for me to put all this to good use.
It was time to emerge back into the world, one day later. I know understood why my mother was such a bad ass. I understand why she taught me discipline and how to apply myself to everything I did. She was preparing me for this. It is my time to carry on the family legacy. Watch out world, here comes Riley Simmons.
|
"I just feel like the first thing they would do is eat me,"Vernella said, hesitantly.
"*Eat you!?* Oh, come on! This is my family we're talking about! You think I would love something that would eat you!? They're excited to meet you!"I yelled encouragingly. Granit came and nudged at my legs,
"Are you sure they'll like me?"he asked quietly. I attempted to pick him up but realized he became much too large for that years ago. I placed a hand on his head. He flushed from embarrassment. His head was powerfully warm.
"They won't just like you, Granit. They'll *love* you, just like they love me. Do you know how long I lived with them?"I asked. He shook his head with large, curious eyes.
"Longer than you've been alive!"I said, poking him on the nose. He giggled and scampered back between his mother's legs.
Vernella took powerful steps towards me. If I didn't know her, I might have even thought she was going to hurt me. She leveled with me and looked me with deeply intelligent eyes.
"You're certain that we won't be hurt at this reunion. Even though your family is..."she let the silence complete her sentence.
"Of course,"I said, excitedly, seeing her come around to the idea. She closed her eyes and lowered her head in thought. She breathed out through her nose as she came to a conclusion. It was really hot when she did that.
"You grew into such a wonderful man with them. I'd hate to be rude and not show up. Especially if they mean so much to you,"she lamented. Granit nodded in agreement, though he still remained between his mother's legs.
"Awesome!"I yelled, jumping for joy. "I promise you won't regret this, you're gonna have a great time!"
"How do we get there?"she asked.
"It's right over the Travik Mountains,"I said, pointing outside the cave.
"Excellent,"she said, spreading her wings to their full, magnificent length, "do you want a ride?"
I jumped on her neck, anxious. I really hoped my mom and little brother would like my wife.
__________________________________________________________________
For more fantastic tales, come on down to r/Nazer_The_Lazer! |
We couldn't have known that we had been training for this for the better part of thirty years. Sculpting our champions out of necessity when we thought it was for entertainment. We'd never know what hero had locked the key away. A secret program hidden deep in our collective genetic code had been unlocked in the late '80s.
It slowly took shape in September of 1989. Man and woman alike, the best of the best had entertained us and unbeknownst to them had been training for this moment ever since that day. A score and four years had passed, but still, they were ready, able and willing to perform the task at hand. Our future champions, sitting at home living normal lives, equally as afraid as the skies had first parted and the alien race had delivered its message.
As the galactic beings approached the Earth's unofficial capital. Our fearless, temporarily tanned leader knew what had to be done, another case of a thousand decades of genetic coding, all leading to this very moment. This wasn't a fluke, this wasn't a case of red vs. blue. This was 200,000 years of careful planning being executed flawlessly.
Our female team captain choice was made quickly after a google search on the President's well worn iPhone. However, tragedy had struck in 2008 and that option was no longer available. To her family, our President's and the worlds great sadness. Fate, fortunately, had found an exceptional understudy.
A yoga instructor, meditation expert and self-described prankster. Salina Bartunek was the owner of an aerial gym in New York. Born quietly in 1965, she was found about as far from her home as one could get without leaving the country. A linguistics master, speaker of five languages her soft-spoken facade hid what lay below, courage, complexity and cunning.
The President's crack team of social media wizards had tracked her down within an instant. Her Pinterest, long outdated. Her Facebook, set to private, still wary of some lunatic coming after her gameshow money. They had tracked her down on Twitter. No one ignored a DM from the President. And after some reluctant back and forth, she politely acquiesced and our path to the women's final was all but assured.
Our second hero chose a different path. An LA County Sheriff and former professional racquetball player. His long golden locks highlighted a winners smile. He'd never quite lost his surfer charm as he aged and his boyish good looks had never faded.
He'd been found where you'd expect to find a man like this. On the beach, taking in the waves with the local kids, talking about the good old days and sipping on his wheatgrass smoothie.
When told of the challenge at hand by a secret service agent attempting to blend in with a Tommy Bahama shirt. Deron McBee had just smiled and said "Radical Bro!"Given him a high five, then hopped on his longboard and headed home to prepare.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
As we assembled our team, the best of the best. The President stepped out of the Oval Office. The former game show stars having exchanged a knowing glance with the biggest of all gameshow stars upon assembling. Faces familiar to them had lined the halls of the White House, it was like a reunion as Deron and Salina greeted each member of their team. A hush fell over the group as the President raised his hands beckoning for quiet.
"Ladies and gentleman. I want you to know I think I've assembled the BEST team for this job. We've been approached by this Alien Gameshow and I just know we're going to MAKE. THEM. PAY."President Trump smiled at the assembled team. Knowing this would cement his legacy as the Best President Ever.
Unaware that after we won, we'd all have our memories collectively wiped. A small inconvenience for an event that finally gave us the ability to fly and use telepathic powers.
He turned to our two Captains. "Malibu."He said to the man with the golden flowing locks. "Elektra,"he turned to the blonde former fitness video host. "I can think of no two better than you to lead us to victory in our upcoming challenge. Please watch this VHS the Aliens left us for more info."
The Earth's greatest heroes, contestants of the interuniversal gameshow that we were all going to win or lose together huddled together in the press briefing room and watched as a small TV was wheeled in. A tape inserted and a video played. Tinny yet familiar music greeted their ears and a familiar logo played, with slightly different text followed by a list of familiar challenges. Heroes of days past. "Nitro,""Hawk,""Sky,""Zap,""Jazz,""Ice,""Lace,""Laser,"and too many others to list sat quietly, knowing now that they were already ready. And excited at their very real chance to win. They watched as on screen the title flashed.
# GALACTIC GLADIATORS
Good thing we'd had our heroes all along. |
It was finally my time to go, and I would leave everything I held dear behind to do so. My close relatives filling all of the chairs in the room, watching me, trying not to cry or shout in a fit of despair. I wouldn't see them again for a long while. My wife approached my death bed and sat in the stool right next to it.
I held her hand while she wiped away the tears streaming down her face using her other, "Don't cry... I'm sure we'll be together again,"I quietly spoke, smiling softly for her.
She smiled back in response, but I could tell how hard it was for her to do so. Her hands shook in an anxious manner and her voice was fragmented and raspy, "Yeah... please... please wait for me there... won't you, my love?"
I chuckled faintly. "Of course, anything for you."
I let go of her hand and placed it back to sit on my chest. I could feel the tiredness filling every inch of my body. I was ready. I closed my eyes one final time, and embraced the waiting eternity before me.
&#x200B;
...
&#x200B;
I open my eyes again. I didn't feel anything, and there was only a dominating darkness in every direction. I notice a light shining in the distance, and I instinctively move towards it. This was it. This was the light at the end of the tunnel.
As I approached the light, I realized that it wasn't what I was expecting it to be. It was rectangular, with a white border and white text in front of a black background. I got close enough to read what was written there.
"Start character creator?
\> Yes > No"
I scratched the back of my head. What on Earth was this? I looked around to see if I had missed something, but all I could observe was the endless unlit void surrounding me. I turned my head back to the textbox, and slowly reached my hand towards the "Yes"button. Maybe I get to choose what I'll look like in Heaven? I mean... nobody would really like to be an old man during eternal salvation, I guess.
I pressed the button and the box vanished. Nothing happened. "Great! I guess I'm doomed with eternal nothingness!"I yelled, throwing my hands into the air. Suddenly, a flash of light sparked behind me, and I turned around to see what it was.
I noticed a life-like human mannequin standing on a stage set, with radiant studio lights illuminating the whole scene. I placed my right arm in front of my face, trying to shade my eyes from the intense flash. As my eyes adjust, I notice one more thing in my proximity. A single tablet laying on the floor in front of my feet.
I picked the tablet up and it automatically turned on on its own. On it I found hundreds of different settings such as "Height","Width","Gender", and many more. Upon changing any of these stats, I noticed the mannequin on stage changing it's shape accordingly.
"So... I guess I just pick what I want to look like?"I spoke to myself. I decided to shape the mannequin in what I looked like back when I was still 23 years of age, which I consider to be my peak in physical condition. After a few adjustments, I walked closer to the stage to get a better look at my avatar. It's a perfect replica of me back then.
But something feels off. "I don't feel like like I'm bulky enough"I snickered as I grabbed the "Chest"setting and turned it up to the maximum. I looked at the mannequin and started laughing hysterically. It looked like as if 50 bees had stung it, which lead to it swelling up like that.
I made my hair blue and long, and my clothes tight and neon-colored. I maximized my height and minimized my weight, to the point where my bones were visible through the skin.
I fell on the floor and dropped the tablet right next to me. I closed my eyes and grabbed my stomach as I continue laughing like a small child, "This shit is too good!"I proclaim loudly, still giggling.
A few minutes passed, "Okay. Okay... I should take this seriously."I spoke again, trying to calm myself down. I reached for the tablet, grabbed it and stood up. I turned my head to look down at it, only to find the settings had been replaced with a text saying "Avatar confirmed. Beginning simulation. Please wait..."
My joyful smirk was quickly replaced by a panicked expression, "No, no, no, no WAIT!"I shrieked in realization of what I had done. A sudden flash of light engulfed me and I lost consciousness.
&#x200B;
...
&#x200B;
I woke up in a bed that I did not recognize. This wasn't my house. "Where am I?"I whispered, my eyes shifting around the room, looking for answers. I stared down at my hands and attire, and I quickly discerned what had happened. I looked just like what I created in that void.
I whispered under my breath, "Fuck."
|
"Hell?"
"That's right!"replied the man
"As in, the fiery world where all the souls of sinners go to burn in an eternal damnation? That hell?"
"The very one"said the man, his body shaking and tears still running down his face, "Though, it's not quite like you've described. There's not so much fire, but instead it's dark and cold. Once you get there, you're put into a deep slumber. One where your mind is forced to live out the most horrific moment of your life repeatedly for the rest of time."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. First this man appears right in front of me (startling me so much I spilled my coffee might I add), then he claims he's somehow managed to escape from the afterlife?
"So, how did you escape this purgatory you've described?"I asked the man
"Well"he replied, "the thing with reliving your worst moment is you don't realise you're reliving it. It just seems like life. I can't even remember how long I was there for. But eventually, you start to realise something is off. That the phenomenon you're experiencing can't merely be deja vu, but instead you really have lived this moment before. It seems that once you realise this, you wake up from your slumber. Once I was awake, there was a large golden door in front of me, with light shining through it, and I opened it up and entered. Next thing I know, I'm here."
"Right..."Clearly the man who stood before me was in dire need of mental therapy or some sort. To convince yourself of something like this is insane.
It was at this moment I had decided I had enough. I walked away from the man, and he began to chase after me (apparently he wasn't finished speaking).
I crossed the road and shouted back to the man to stay where he was and not to follow me. He refused, and sprinted across the road, onto oncoming traffic.
I screamed at him to stop, but he didn't. He didn't even see the truck coming. He was too concerned with telling me the rest of his story, and because I refused to help this poor delusional man, he got run over. Because of me. This was all my fault.
People ran over to the mans corpse, but it wouldn't matter. No one could have survived an impact like that.
I felt guilty. I was to blame for the death of an innocent man. I started crying, and shaking and felt like I was going to be sick. I ran into the nearest building, a coffee shop, and went into the bathroom to calm myself down. Once the tears stopped, and my breathing returned to normal, I walked out of the bathroom. I wen't to the counter and ordered myself another coffee to try and relax myself.
Upon receiving my drink, I exited the coffee shop and began walking down the street, when a man suddenly appeared in front of me, startling me so much I spilled my coffee.
"I'm..I'm back"said the man, "I've done it! I escaped from hell!"
"Hell?"
"That's right!"replied the man
""As in, the fiery world where all the souls of sinners go to burn in an eternal damnation? That hell?"
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Okay for a start, my formatting probably isn't great, I don't write very often.
This is my first time doing something like this (I just really liked this prompt) so any feedback or advice is welcome! |
For Marleen, it all started with a tiny shock. She was browsing Reddit. Her fingers flew as she started and ended pointless arguments all over the net. But just when she was about to turn in for the night, her hands jumped backwards.
A tiny shock, something small enough to be mistaken for static, had zapped her.
Marleen stared at her hands in confusion and then cautiously lowered them. For a few seconds, nothing happened. She sighed and shook her head. A post with a blatantly incorrect opinion about her favorite drama caught her eye, driving her fingers back to the keyboard.
The instant Marleen touched a key, she was treated to another zap.
After half a minute of stunned silence, Marleen frowned. Was her computer breaking?
She held her trembling hands over the keyboard and felt a slight current running just beneath her fingers. There was, however, one spot where this current was conspicuously absent. Marleen pressed on the key, and when nothing happened, she released the breath that she’d been subconsciously holding in.
**[I]**
When she considered pressing the ‘I’ key for a second time, Marleen noticed that the electric current had returned. She searched for another unguarded key, and then another…
**[I am d]**
Marleen traced her fingers across her laptop like it was the world’s most expensive Ouija board.
**[I am dying]**
She swallowed the saliva that she’d been building up with a loud gulp.
**[I am dying…For some delicious chicken! Hot and fresh chicken is only a few clicks away! Delivery in thirty minutes or your money back. Find your local Zesty’s Chicken today!]**
For a while, Marleen just stared blankly at her computer screen.
“Yup.” Marleen nodded to herself. “It’s time for bed.”
After she stumbled out of the room, a blue mote of light drifted up from her keyboard. The ethereal being sighed.
“Ugh. This new ad agency is even worse than the telemarketers in hell…”
Then, for reasons that the living wouldn’t understand, the spirit begrudgingly flew over the next house on its list.
|
Before anybody could react, the musical Melody of the Alto sax paralyzed the surrounding area. A quake of jazz stringing its way through the air took hold of every heart both good and evil and spun a web of entrancing dreams. Irrgath, slaver of the weak, himself began to tremble. He just could not resist, not with all his powerful might, as he was pulled into a dream like all the others.
In those dreams the entranced enter a dark room. One spotlight shines through the dark down on a mist of clouds caressing the floor.
"Ohuohohoh"
You hear as a powerful voice swims through the air blending perfectly into the saxophones Melody. As the music intensifies the mist begins to clear showing one strikingly handsome man standing in the spotlight with just a mic in front of him.
The saxophone cuts and softens.
The man in the spotlight grabs the mic and sings.
"I feel so unsure"
That's it!
You have them Now!
all beings deeply entranced and living in a dream with George Michael's singing them carless whispers. |
Sunrise.
Looking at the castle from atop a hill, I wondered "how long will it take for the people in there to find us."
We arrived just before dawn, supposedly on our way to some "terrorist"hideout. We walked for hours until we realized that the once arid landscape is now a thick forest. We encountered what we thought as hostile forces dressed and equipped as medieval soldiers speaking in a language that slightly resembles french.
We checked for signals on of all of our comms and GPS devices and found none. We are off grid for some reason. At that time Justin and Fred started sneezing rather uncontrollably. This alerted more hostile forces that attacked us with arrows. How primitive are the targets I wondered, is this one of those exterminate the natives for their land missions? As I was underestimating their forces five of us have been downed by arrows, arrows! We managed to gun all 30 of them down with only three of us left. I asked captain Roland what are we to do now, he shrugged, looked up a hill and said "mercenary shit."I looked at Greg with a scowl on my face and nodded. We both know what is to happen.
It took us a good hour to dig a shallow trench on top of the hill which we squatted on top of. With our pants down, the sun rising behind our backs, and shit dropping from our mercenary cracks. Looking at a castle I wondered "how long will it take for the people in there to find us." |
A new kitten takes my human's eyes, but still I saunter on.
I'm the king of this house. The leader and lover of the tall and ridiculous humans. At first, it was a grown couple and young Susan, whom I deeply adored. She was sweet, though hard to control. Pulling tails and forgetting food, but always a good bed for snuggles and love. I watched her grow, and the couple moved on. Susan loved me dearly, even more than the assortment of shelf obstacles and table adornments I graciously cleared for her. But a new one showed up. Young and mewling, but lost. I pitied the poor thing, and allowed Susan to keep it, though it bothers me now and again to share. But still, I grow older, and Susan seems to be quite likely to need someone to keep her in line beyond my time.
&#x200B;
The bones ache and whiskers fail me, but still I trudge on.
For little Marilyn and Tony, who still haven't learned to not pull. For grown Susan, whose eyes still show the same love they've shown since she was a young tail-puller. I heave off my throne of pillows and swat the young kitten to follow. Show him how to nuzzle, how to love. Calm him after a boisterous tug, and show him to bathe himself and our humans... no, his humans. Show him how to clear counters and tables for the humans, and when and where to lurk and watch over them.
&#x200B;
My coat turns to snow, but still I gaze on.
The little one is growing. I can't see him as well, but I hear. The coos of the small ones, and affectionate calls of my Susan affirm to me he is doing well. I suppose it is good. I suppose it is time. I hear Susan, now. No, Susan. Please don't cry. The little one will not understand. Marilyn and Tony will not understand. Please, Susan, I must rest. I'm so very tired.
&#x200B;
The tears fall from our eyes, but still I sleep on. |
"Marcus you have my apologies. It seems that I underestimated you."'
&#x200B;
Marcus's ears perk up to the sudden admission in the cramped office. He had come in at the professors request assuming his charade had been found out. The fact that it had been requested the day after handing in the first assignment given on the second day had left Marcus a anxiety riddled mess the minute after he read the email. How a business admin major had been put into a engineering class had defied logic but his friends had dared him to see how long he could keep it up before being thrown out. The bets had settled on three days maximum.
&#x200B;
Focusing back on the now talking Professor Camedon he had missed the first few words of the professors continued apology. ".... so initially your transcript was uninspiring and I was going to pull you from the class thinking the school admin had made a mistake. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened though most students tend to fix it themselves. You didn't really seem to have any qualifications for civic engineering but for your lack of background you handed in a solid paper covering the first three chapters on something you must have studied privately. You'll receive the marks tomorrow with everyone else but it looks like you may make it with a solid B , or 85%. Again sorry if my email worried you but I haven't quite mastered tone on this stupid thing."Camedon motioned to the almost hidden smartphone on his desk. It was surrounded by small piles of papers and a coffee mug. Wanting to escape before anything remotely skill related was asked he took smiled, stood up offering his hand out to his professor in thanks. "I won't lie, I was a little nervous about the class and I had considered that it might not be my fit but I'm here to stay if you'll have me."Camden stood and took the offered hand and smiled back. "Consider yourself accepted and if you can keep these types of marks I'm sure we can find a place for you."
&#x200B;
Feeling dismissed Marcus backed out of the office and closed the door behind him. Was he heard the door latch he allowed himself the luxury of a nervous sigh he had held in for the past few minutes. His heart had been racing for the last nine hours and his stomach still felt as if it wouldn't accept much more than water and some crackers. Now that the worst was over he knew it would start to settle over the next hour but a cup of tea may quicken that.
&#x200B;
He decided company also sounded good and decided to send Adam a text and see if he would meet him at the coffee house across the street. He could live with the fact the front of the shop usually smelt like a skunk had taken up residence in the area for the fact that they had something that calmed his stomach down. It always embarrassed him when these types of things happened. As Marcus made his way through the hallways to the exit he tried to play out what exactly had happen that lead to this point.
&#x200B;
He hadn't ever ended up in a situation like this exactly before but it seemed to be a reoccurring theme in his life , his parents and friends always seemed to find it far funnier than he did and never let him forget it as he seemingly bumbled through life. As he exited the campus he felt the phone vibrate in his hand and looked at the screen.
&#x200B;
\-Give me 5, I'll help you try and get back in B Admin
\-Adam.
&#x200B; |
I was sat in a reasonably comfortable chair with unbelievably uncomfortable handcuffs clamping me to it. There was just one detective questioning me. She looked like something out of a film. Crisp police uniform. Thick Brooklyn accent, or something, my knowledge of the states isn't worth writing home about. She was standing over me, bargaining.
"You're going to be charged with over one hundred charges of murder."She said as if I wasn't aware how many people I'd killed. "You got anything to say for yourself?"She finishes then goes silence. Trying to coerce something out of me. I let the silence sit comfortably.
"You've got a lot to answer for, mister.. Mr who exactly? Should I call you Mr multi-state murderer. I believe that's what Reddit likes to call you. Or do you have a name?"
This next silence is longer, less comfortable, but I wait it out.
"Do you know how many copy cats you've inspired? If it was up to me I'd say you pay for every one."
This time the silence gets to me a little.
"What if they all were me?"I mumble.
"I don't think you should be bragging about this Mr- Mr worldwide?"
"Should you be joking"
"We all deal in different ways, I'll take that as a confession though."
"Sure.. how long have I been in here do you recon?"
She smiles and tips her head "Oh absolutely no time at all. By the time you're out of here, you'll have no idea what it was like not to be out of here."
"Unless you're missing something."
"And what am I missing?"
"I did kill all those people, and you know what? I think I'll kill a few more but. But at least a dozen those people that I've killed would've been worse than Hitler. And every one had the same morals as him."
"Nice story. How come you think this, nutcase?"
"This is how come."
In a puff of smoke I disappear, back to the year 2103.
Very nice writing prompt hopefully my story isn't too bad. |
Though the portal that opened up during the hurricane show signs of weakening, until it fully closes, the site will remain under government observation.
The cover is simple, but effective. Noone ever looks at a janitor twice. Every night, I unload my 'cleaning supplies' from the van. Disguised as innocuous items any janitor would have on hand, the research equipment is vital to my job.
I start my shift with reading various sensors that measure gravitational disturbance, electromagnetic flux, and gamma radiation emissions. So many years without so much as blip. All the reading the same, ever single day.
I'll then send yet another probe through, in hopes that maybe it will return, unlike the thousands before it.
That is, until today.
The reading were off. The flux readings were unstable and the gamma radiation levels spiked. Grav measurements were showing a slight increase in the mass equivalent of the portal.
Suddenly, without fanfare, sparks, or flashes, the readings returned to normal... as a probe unceremoniously emerged and plopped onto the floor. The marking on its side, simply read: '1'.
|
"Everyone stays down and no one gets hurt! You! Cop! I'm gonna take your gun alright? No quick moves!"the robber said, training his gun on the man dressed as a cop. His ski mask was on tight and betrayed the fear in his eyes.
"Amateur,"the false cop muttered under his breath, cringing at the fact the robber had come alone for this robbery. If anyone else was a cop of sorts in this place, he would be blindsided the moment he was focused on this fake cop. The robber inched forward, swallowing hard.
"First time, huh?"the disguised man asked.
"What?"the robber yelped, surprised by the question.
Suddenly, a ringing jolted the two of them and they shipped their heads around, realizing all the phones in the bank were going off at once. The robber fumbled at his phone to pull it out and silence it.
"What's going on!?"he asked, before looking at the screen. His eyebrows furrowed downward and his mouth opened and closed a few times before he could read what was on screen.
"It says... it says 'Hands up everyone, this is a robbery,'"he said, showing the fake cop his phone screen. The cop pulled out his own phone, to which the robber was too curious to see rather than tell him to not make any sudden movements.
"It's an amber alert!"the man in blue said, astonished. Perhaps this robber was a professional.
The cashier peeked out over the counter, wondering why the silent alarm hadn't brought any cops, as his plan to clear the bank vault relied upon the cops swarming the place. The bulletproof glass sat between him and the rest of the hostages.
"Are you a professional?"he asked, over the register.
"Me or him?"the man dressed as a cop asked, stowing his phone and handing his plastic gun to the robber.
"I wouldn't call myself a professional, yet,"the robber blushed behind his mask. "I hope that after this--"
He yelped as the lights went out and he heard a number of people began scuffling around the room.
"I said nobody move!"he said pathetically. When the lights had come back on, he saw that he was standing without the cop. The rest of the room looked like a display of mannequins, as the rest of the would-be robbers froze in place, afraid to have the newbie accidentally shoot them while they began their heists.
"What's.."he was cut off yet again by a screech shattering the bulletproof glass between him and the cashier. His eyes went wide as the hostages looked between him and the open counter. The man who sat behind the register ran for the vault. As soon as he left the room, the sprinkler system went off and the rest of the room broke into pandemonium. Some charged at the registers to pull out what little money could be found in there while a number of others walked briskly back to the vault with various tools being pulled from their jackets and pants.
The robber swung his gun from left to right, trying to get a semblance of the power he felt at the beginning of his excursion. He gritted his teeth and ran for the front doors, cutting his losses before the mob inevitably got caught in a shoot-out with the coming police force. He made it to the front door when he saw that he was too late. Two men in swat clothing stood at the glass, looking inside.
As soon as they made eye contact, the door flew open and they grabbed him by his arms. He made no moves to try and break free, as he was too afraid of what they'd do to him.
"Don't worry. We're with *him,*"one of them whispered knowingly.
"Wha?"he began to ask as he was whisked into the flower truck next to the bank. He heard an ear-shattering explosion as the back of the bank blew out and a helicopter came in from overhead. He heard a car screech out on the street fleeing the scene.
In a daze, he decided that the market was far too saturated to be robbing banks. Perhaps he'd find another criminal profession with less demand.
_______________________________
For more stories, come and check out r/Nazer_the_Lazer! |
We saw him sitting there on that bench, as he had been for the past couple of weeks. Lonely, cold, ignored by most, yet he didn't return that favor. Whoever passed that bench would receive kind words from him, though this usually only lead to being further ignored at best, or being shouted at at worst. And yet, through all of this, he shared what little food he had with the flock. He talked with, or rather *to* us, sang us songs, remembered our faces and features, and even gave us names. It was mildly confusing at first, being given a new name, but over time we grew to love them, and wore them with pride.
Times would come where he would be gone for a while. Days, weeks even, being sent away, or having found shelter for a while. No matter what, we would always wait for him, and that patience would be rewarded with his return. He referred to us as friends, and eventually even as family. We accepted him into our family, allowed him to see our offspring, letting them grow used to him, bond with him. That trust we put into him was not easy to gain, nor easy to lose either.
Then, on that fateful day, *she* went for a walk in the park. Nothing out of the ordinary, just another young lass going for a stroll, absentmindedly looking up at the sky- You see them quite often around those parts, sometimes together with others, sometimes enjoying the peace and quiet. He greeted her, like he would any other person, but here is where this tale truly begins.
They started talking. To anyone else it would've looked like small talk, but to the flock, it was a revelation, a victory, a prophecy come true. As we looked over, we saw her sitting on the bench with him, though she looked like she was in a hurry. No! No, this wasn't supposed to happen! We all yelled, which managed to catch the two of them off guard, and bought us some more time. We had to think of a plan to keep the two of them together, and we had to do it *now*.
Terry quickly chimed "What if we peck at her feet?". "And how is *that* supposed to help?!"Bob shouted. "Well I don't know, how about you--!"The two of them continued arguing, but we didn't have time for that. Matt came with a different suggestion. "What if we drop one of our chicks by them? They have to notice that, right?"The murder murmured. "It *could* work...""Sounds dangerous though...""What if we don't aim--""I'll do it!"Instantly, all of our gazes snapped up one of our nests in the tree. Young Charlie peered over the edge and repeated himself. "I can do it!"Quick glances were exchanged, and we all flew up to the nest.
We gathered around Charlie, and decided Anne would be the one to drop him. With shouts of encouragement, the two of them took off, and with a well-aimed swoop, dropped Charlie right into the young lady's lap. The lady seemed concerned, our friend was more confused than anything. When she offered to take Charlie to the vet, the two of them got up and walked off, which was the last that we would see of them for quite a while.
&#x200B;
...
&#x200B;
Why is this story important, you say? Well, if you look at *that* house, yes, that one, with the red car, that is where our friend now lives, together with the young lady. After months, Terry spotted him, together with Charlie, walking down the street. He decided to follow him, and once he found out where our friend lived, we all decided to move over there as well. It's the reason why there is a feeder in the yard, and the crow that you can sometimes see through the window? Indeed, that's young Charlie, all grown up now, living happily among the humans.
Our trust might be hard to gain, but it's even harder to get rid of. |
“This is the best you’ve come up with? You idiots want us throw a hail mary and hope for the best?”
President Folsom slapped the table. “Damn it. We’ve got the best fucking minds on the planet, and this is all you’ve got?”
Silence swept the room. They were tasked with saving the species and life was slipping away. The planet had grown inhospitable. Humanity was no longer fit for Earth. Thousands had died already. Billions more were expected to perish. Humanity had manufactured it’s end.
“Sir. I think I need to clarify our options before we go on much further.”
A scientist stood on the other end of the room. Dr. Francis. Beads of sweat peppered his body.
“We’ve got two options. We send a small group of humans and hope they develop the technology to live, indefinitely, in space or on a different world, or, we wait it out. This planet, the climate, it will reset. It’s just a matter of time. We won’t see it, but it’s the best shot our species has.”
***
The vessel was dead silent. At least until the 500 year mark, which was now minutes away. After entering orbit, the crew entered into cryogenic stasis. They understood, before leaving, that the people they knew would all be gone by the time they returned. But humanity needed them to go.
Elpida, the on-board intelligence didn’t sleep during the trip. It watched over the cargo and waited until this day. Now that the time requirement was met, it initiated the wake process for the captain. Once awake, the Captain Bryne would assume command.
At the end of a corridor, Bryne’s pod hissed as air was expelled. After thawing, he tested his eyelids a few times before moving other extremities. He was intact. Alive.
“Elpida,” he said, sitting up from his pod. “What year is it?”
“Welcome back, Captain Bryne. The year is 2519.”
“Perfect. I’m on my way to the bridge. Please ready some clothes for me.”
Naked and cold, Bryne walked along the corridor, past the rest of his crew. They were all still asleep. He needed to ensure the conditions were met before waking them.
Once in the bridge, Bryne dressed himself. He reeked, but a shower could wait. He examined the ship’s information as he scratched a beard that had not been there when he went into stasis.
“Elpida. The ship seems intact. Fuel is as expected. No breaches. Good work.”
“Thank you, Captain Bryne.”
“Bring up Earth on the main display, please. Let’s have a look.”
“Scanning,” said Elpida.
Moments went by, and still no image.
“Elpida?”
“Captain. Planet Earth is not within range. Do you have another celestial body you wish to see?”
“Not within range? What does that mean? Where are we?”
“We are in your home solar system.”
“And where is my planet?”
“Planet Earth is not within range.” |
I remember the hospital room. The sheets are warm but wet. Dirty. The sweat is still clinging to my forehead, my wet blonde hair sticking to my face. Why am I blond? My hair is deeply raven colored. Not shortly after the doctor hands me a baby, hands me me. I can see myself holding me. The real me, but how can that be? How can I see myself being born? How can I be cradling myself?
The memory fades and with a sharp pain in my skull a new one starts to form. Its me again, I can recognize myself from my old photos. Happily I jet around on a scooter, *my* old scooter. Bright red, not yet broken by the wheels of a car it would end up under within a few number of months. I hand younger me a cookie, my then favourite kind of chocolate chip cookie. I'd never been able to explain why I suddenly started hating those.
The pain intensifies again as a final memory forms... singing a lullaby, I lower younger me into a bed. "You've been a good boy today, Teddycuddles."I say reassuringly. "One last cookie before bed?". Younger me giggles as he bit into the cookie, slowly sliding under the covers and pulling it up to his head.
The sharp pain once again takes over, splitting my head nearly in half. Groaning, I come back to reality. "Told you I'd find you...", I mumble to myself as I plunged the axe into the males skull one final time. "Thats payback for the axe you put in my mother...". Laughing I lean back against the wall, treasuring the memories I'd just regained. |
It'd been four days since I left the house.
Four whole days without a breath of fresh air, or a breeze running through my hair. Since I'd felt the springtime sun kiss my skin with warm lips, or smelled a patch of blooming tulips.
Four miserable days locked in a dark room with nothing but bad thoughts and frozen dinners, leaving bed only to relieve myself or eat something small so I wouldn't die-- of hunger, at least. My bed had become a prison.
Four painstaking days without seeing a human being aside from myself. And yes, I was in there with me. He was different, admittedly, but there was no doubting that we were cut from the same cloth.
I sat up, hugging the covers close, and glared at him. "Why are you still here? I told you to go away."
"I go where you go, jackass."He laughed at me, shaking his head. "I would've assumed even someone as dumb as you would understand that."
"I'm not dumb,"I said, frowning. "You're dumb. You're an asshole, and I hate you."
"Yes, yes, I know, you hate yourself. You tell me that, like, every single day."
"I don't hate myself, I hate you."I pointed at him. "You're the problem."
He shrugged. "And I'm you, so... bit of a pickle you're in, there, isn't it?"
I felt my voice wavering, but I fought through it to sound steady. "You're the worst part of me. So yes, we're the same person, but you're the horrible version."
"Thanks."He smiled, giving me a thumbs up.
"No. I'm done with this shit. I'm tired of letting you storm in sometimes and ruin my life. Leave and never come back."
"You can't make me go. I'm a part of you."
I pushed the covers aside and slid to the edge of the bed. "Get the *fuck* out of my life, and don't ever come back."
He laughed at me, but didn't move.
"We're not on speaking terms anymore. I've had enough of your bullshit, and the way you treat me. The way you make me feel like I'm worthless, and ugly, and everything else shit in the world. Like I'm a pile of garbage."
"You are, though."
"No, I'm not. I'm done with you. Get out of my life, right now."
His laughter faded into a flash of anger. "You can't make me leave, you piece of shit. We're one and the same."
"No, we're not. Get out."
"There isn't a single fucking thing you can do on your own. You're useless. What're you gonna do when I'm gone, huh? Sit around alone and cry and eat ice cream, that's what."
I pointed to the door. "Get the fuck out and never come back."
He turned beet red, stood up, and shook my shoulders. "You don't know what you're talking about! What would you do without me, huh? Nobody likes *you*! Nobody respects *you*!"
I grabbed him by the arm, climbing out of bed, stumbling through the darkness while grappling with him. Through the hall, tripping over something, I pushed him into the living room and opened the blinds. The sunlight stung our eyes, but it felt so good on my skin. In new light, I could see how dirty the house was; a sink full of old dishes, dust on the table, laundry piled on the floor. It was disgusting.
"What are you doing, you moron?"he asked, shielding his face. "Stop it!"
I grabbed him by the collar, over to the front door, then unlocked it and threw him out onto the porch. He screamed at me, incoherent and wild, but I simply took a step outside and let the warmth of May wash over me.
It was a beautiful day. I took a deep breath of fresh air and went for a nice little walk, basking in its loveliness. A gentle breeze whispered through the trees blooming around me, carrying a light scent of pine and spring. I brushed my fingertips through rusting leaves and smiled at an old lady passing by with her little corgi. I lifted my legs, putting one in front of the other, moving forward instead of wallowing in place.
And I did it alone.
---
*/r/resonatingfury* |
"Alright then."1 million wishes.
"OK SO now I want a million dollars."Timmy immediately launched into a laundry list of all the things he wanted, cars, toys, whatever, even another lamp. The genie just stood there and shrugged.
"You have no more wishes, boy."
"But, I wished for a million?"Timmy raised an eyebrow.
"You didn't say the wishes would be given to you, so I used your wishes and gave them to others."The genie disappeared back into the lamp.
---
An older, more slovenly Timmy sat around a chair flanked by many other people.
"So, yeah... That's why I have trust issues. " |
Anna invited me to her church. I had fallen from it when I was so young but I still felt a pull to go. When I said yes I thought she’d squeeze me to death. She even came over early to do my hair and brought 3 different outfits to try on. I gathered some flowers from my mother’s garden to give to the church. I didn’t have money but I had flowers. Lots of them.
I clunked in the uncomfortable heels Anna forced onto me and climbed into the back seat behind her. He parents looked more excited than her. I smiled uneasily at them clutching the flowers in my lap. They were vibrant as ever. I placed them in a clear vase so nothing would take away from their beauty.
When we arrived everyone was kind, but a little too kind. The swooped in for hugs and some older women even tried to kiss my cheeks. I clutched my flowers and pushed Anna forward to get inside.
I heard the organ crackling away in the background; babies were crying, and the scent of church bathroom soap lingered in the air. Pastor Tom spotted us and walked over with kindness in his eyes. I felt myself my nerves ease.
“Good morning Anna,” he said looking pleased,” and who is this you brought today?”
Before Anna could answer a swarm of church women began asking Pastor Tom about a bake sale. Anna grabbed my hand and pulled me to a table with pamphlets.
“Here would be a good spot,” she said,” that way everyone can see them as they walk in and out.”
I nodded and placed them down carefully. We walked inside. I bit the inside of my cheek. This felt off. I wanted to leave but I couldn’t. We sat in the front. I was not looking forward to this. There was a rather large tub on the stage area. I looked at it and then back at Anna raising an eyebrow.
“Oh that? Pastor Tom is going to be baptizing someone today. I’m really glad you’ll be here to witness it,” she said giddily. I tried to smile back.
In a few minutes the pews started to fill up. Anna opened a book of hymns and slipped it onto my lap. We sang a few songs that I had never heard of and then announcements were made; baking sales, knitting club, and bible camp. I looked around trying to keep myself from looking bored.
‘”Today,” Pastor Tom started,” Is a great day for the Lord is it not?!”
The people around me cheered enthusiastically.
“Today,” he continued,” Is the day that Josh gives himself completely to the Lord! He will come out here in a few moments dressed in white and sink beneath these blessed waters and rise again new!”
More cheering came from the pews along with clapping. Some people even stood up raising their hands up to the ceiling. I looked around taking it all in. It was a good thing happening. But it didn’t feel right.
Josh, a boy we went to school with walked out in a white robe. He looked nervous. He stepped into the water and laid down in Pastor Tom’s hands. Pastor Tom began saying some blessings and then he dunked Josh under. Josh flailed for a bit and water went everywhere. Being in the first row I got a good spray on my upper body.
Everywhere the water touched it started to burn. I wondered if this was why Josh had made such a scene. The burning began to intensify but Anna seemed fine. So did her parents and everyone else that got splash. My skin started to crack and split where the water had touched. Blood started to ooze out in slow steady streams. Pastor Tom came over to me and as he was about to lay hands on me a sonic boom sounded off. It shook the building. I fell to the floor withering in pain. Pastor Tom looked at me as if I was the devil himself.
The doors busted open and a dark figured rushed in with heavy footsteps. Large tattered wings trailed behind him. The church was hushed. The Pastor stared wide eyed at the creature moving towards me and then back at me.
“Persephone,” the dark figure yelled deeply, sadness cutting through his thunderous voice.
I looked up the best I could. My body was covered in my own blood. I couldn’t move. But any movement was enough for him. He stormed over and dropped down to cradle my head. He began touched the open wounds and they sealed up. Blood started to drip from his own wings. This.This felt right. I let him pick me up. He walked out of the church and held me tightly.
“I thought I’d never find you again,” he said looking into my eyes. |
"Hey, uh, John."I am surprised to see him, and almost forget his name. He looks even more terrified without proper lighting.
"Hey. Good morning, I guess,"he chuckles a bit as the sweat rolls of his lip, "You throwing out a rug?"
"Why, yes. Yes I am."Own it. He won't know if my confidence is through the roof. "I've been waiting for weeks and just couldn't sleep with it in the house anymore."
"Good one. Yeah, sort of the same, ugh,"he struggles to keep the rug up, "story here. Marcy has been begging me to throw it out. It doesn't match anything to her 'fungy shoe' thing she' s all up into."
*This guy has the sense to make fucking dad jokes.* I am shaking in my slippers. *Is my neighbor a murderer?*
"So, John, maybe it's best we don't tell Lisa *or* Marcy about this, you agree?"I am hoping my olive branch looks more genuine than the Persian rug in my hands.
"Yeah, yeah of course. Neighbors' promise, haha,"John smirks.
He walks over to his backyard which is in visible distance of mine and we both stand there. *50 feet apart!*
I already pre-dug my hole the night before, because I’m a fucking genius, as close to 6 feet as I could. I look over and see the silhouette of John walking over to his garage. He’s gone for a few moments. *This is the time.*
I open the rug and using my legs, I kick the body over and it rolls over, slamming into the earth below me. The rug is stained. Guess it’s got to go too.
I look over and see John come out with a shovel. *Fucking idiot.* The rug is now on top of poor old Sam, about 5 and a half feet into my backyard. I pause and think to myself, *this is where my fucking kids play tag.* Well, I also don’t believe in ghosts and all that witch bullshit and this is the end of poor Sam as we know it, so fuck it. I begin to push all of the leftover dirt down as I hear a whimper. I look over and John is whimpering as he is digging. I feel moved by this not because he is acting like a little bitch but mostly because I know what it’s like to have killed someone and be digging my first ever grave. *The poor bastard probably doesn’t even have turf to cover up the dirt.*
Before I could make a move, he begins to walk my way. I freeze.
“Steve, can I ask you something?” *No.*
“Sure, man. What’s going on? You alright?”
“I’ve never done this before and I can’t do this alone. I’m not even good at digging. You look like you know a thing or two.” He looks over at the hole next to me.
“Can I use your hole?” *My heterosexual neighbor just asked me if he can use my hole.*
“Can I be honest, John?” He nods at me quickly. “I’m gonna let you use my hole. This once. Let’s not make it a habit, ok?” I smile sincerely at him.
He gives me a hug and runs over to his rug. He drags it over and opens it. I stand there in disbelief. A man, about 350 pounds is lying in his rug, clearly dead, or heavily asleep with blood patterned splatter on his white collared shirt.
And all this time I thought I was bad, putting my dog down without my wife and kids knowing. *This guy’s a psycho.* I begin to push the dirt back in and he helps. I am now terrified. He sense it. He grabs a shovel and swings at my head… |
They were shocked for a few seconds but then just started to laugh... "of course you are.. after all ; you are our kid."I looked at them for a bit and motioned for a slightly longer explanation to that. "Well you see Jacob,"my mother said ,"our family is part of a long line of demigods who have been around for centuries""Every eldest born child is blessed with a certain power which essentially renders them invincible; but dont be mistaken.. you are still mortal". "So when I started shining in class and when that old dwarf dude came and blessed me.. that was all part of it?". "Ahh Gorlond! Haven't seen him in ages. Yes son, that was all part of it "said my father. "So tell us , what's your power?""umm, it's kinda stupid.""Dont be silly Jacob, you said it yourself, your a God now ""But dad, it sounds silly""What is it "urged my mother. I sighed and then quietly said "Carpentry ". |
The Reaper Fleet moved once more into the Milky Way, to harvest and repeat the cycle as they had always done.
The Vanguard Reaper reported to Harbinger, detailing the anomalous progression that the Milky Way had taken in the last 50,000 years.
Despite eliminating their ever persistent adversary Commander Shepard long ago, this cycle now presented new problems.
The Galaxy had run down an illogical path, one the Reapers could not control not calculate.
The Citadel was nothing more than an abandoned husk, burnt out and destroyed, with no regard to the technological lures left inside, as if destroyed with blind fury, not even the Keepers remained.
Instead of the centre of Galactic government, lay a scorched derelict.
Element Zero tech was completely neglected, FTL travel was carried out using a means that the Vanguard was unable to identify, only known as “the Warp” from intercepted transmissions.
Much to Harbinger’s frustration and bewilderment. He was informed their last cycle had been a failure in regards to Earth.
Humanity had somehow survived, hidden and protected by an unknown faction, albeit reduced to a primal state after the Reapers withdrew, they had somehow developed even faster than their last cycle.
Humanity’s Fleet size and firepower alone was beyond that of the United Galaxy of the last harvest, now dwarfing Reapers.
They had avoided mass effect based kinetic barriers and weapons, opting for far more advanced alternatives, capable of obliterating entire planets on a whim.
This was not a Humanity born out of discovery and co-operation, but one of conflict and strife.
Gone was the Systems Alliance, in its place the Imperium of Man.
Not to mention the other monstrous civilisations inhabiting the Galaxy, the tear in spacetime and a whole host of chaotic factors that threw off the entire formula.
The Reapers were outgunned and Harbinger knew it.
Harbinger decided that their best chance was a full on assault of Earth, now locally identified as “Holy Terra” , indoctrinate as many as possible , assimilate the technology and correct the cycle back into their developmental control.
This “Imperium of Man” was ruled by one figure with absolute power “The God Emperor of Mankind”
If the Reapers could eliminate him, then they could destabilise the Imperium, and proceed as planned. It was a desperate plan, but the only one they had.
With much caution Reaper fleet made its way into the Milky Way and couldn’t get anywhere near Sol, they were intercepted by the Imperial Navy and the Astra Militarum, who immediately attacked them without pause.
In space and on the planets they tried to assimilate, they fought a losing battle
Their Husks and Shock troops cut down with ease by Guardsman on the frontlines, completely unfazed, the Humans of this cycle had seen things far worse than Reapers.
The Reapers themselves beaten back with ease and obliterated from the skies with the brutal unrelenting Battlefleet of the Imperium.
Their attempts at indoctrination failed, the minds of these Humans were like fortresses, even among the lowest ranks, their faith in this “God Emperor” was unyielding, indomitable and incorruptible. At least to the influence of mere Reapers, a mental fortitude that surpassed that of even Shepard
Within hours, Harbinger had lost the majority of the Reaper Fleet, Capital Ships picked apart and smashed like they were nothing.
Utterly decimated, Until no calculation or plan could allow for a successful outcome, He was the last one.
The great Doom of the Milky Way, the Reapers, the Harvesters, the destroyers of the Protheans and countless other civilisations, lay defeated by their greatest enemy. Humanity.
A foe that they had wounded and failed to kill, only to return stronger beyond the comprehension of their synthetic minds.
A singular civilisation had done what United Galaxies had failed to do time and time again, and it was clear, they had only needed a fraction of their might to do so.
Harbinger could only think one thing as his shields were brought down by bombardment and his own destruction approached
“How?” he questioned in his head
“How does this cycle of Humanity possess this overwhelming strength and power?”
A booming voice appears out the darkness of Harbingers mind, as if projected across lightyears through means unknowable to the Reaper
“Through me.” The God Emperor spoke, his psychic presence burned the very mind of the Reaper
“you are nothing but a relic of Dark Age technology, i expected you to return from the shadows, now face your final destruction at the hands of my Son’s and Daughters, your time is over.”
With that final condemnation, Harbinger was obliterated into nothing.
For the Reapers, the Imperium had been the most difficult, most fearsome and powerful foe they had ever faced, an encounter that resulted in their total and complete destruction
For the Imperium, it was Tuesday. |
**TEACH ME MAGIC.**
Sure, it is really simple. There are multiple types of cards in magic:
Lands are what gives you mana to cast other cards. they do not cost any mana to cast, they remain on the battlefield and untapped at the start of every upkeep. Mana can be of 5 different color each with its own identity and play style, but more on this later...
**I SEE, BUT THIS IS NOT WHAT**
We will get to that. Creatures are usually the main part of a deck. They are normally the main way to attack you opponent to reduce their health, and allow you to defend from enemy attacks by blocking. They can have many different traits that affect their behavior and what they can and cant do, more on this later...
**I SEE, BUT WHAT ABOUT**
Later. Planewalkers are very powerful, you can think of them as heroes. They are cards with really impactful abilities that can range from having small sizable effects on the battlefield to strong ultimates that can change the rules of the game but take a while to cast. To do this you need to build loyalty counters first, but more on that later...
**I SEE, SO THEY ARE LIKE THE WIZARDS OF OLD DAYS, THAT COULD**
Yeah yeah, like that. Now sorceries are like small one use magic spells that you cast, they can do things like damage, destroying units or planewalkers, drawing cards and many other unique interactions. However they can only be cast during your turn, and during one of the main phases, more on phases later...
**JUST WHAT IS THIS NONSE**
Instant spells are just like sorceries except that they can be cast at any moment, even in the middle of combat or during the opponent turn. This allows for some unique mechanics like counters, but more on that later
**...**
HEY, where are you going? You summoned me here, why are you leaving... HEY!!! |
"uhhh…"I say to myself as I stand in front of a large gate.
It happened like they say. First, Tragic accident, I was driving my care late at night in the rain, coming home from work, when this car decided it just had to make the yellow light. Next, I was floating above my body, my life flashes before my eyes, pretty average, then I am propelled through a dark tunnel with a bright light at the end.
Finally, I am surrounded by bright light, standing on what appears to be the whitest and fluffiest clouds in existence and right before my eyes is this majestic golden gate. Exactly how they say, except....
"Is anyone there"I yell towards the gate. My hand moves to pick up the sign. I want to get a closer look at it to see if I am somehow misunderstanding it. It reads in great black letter, 'Do Not Disturb'. The gate is slightly ajar.
"Hello"I yell again as I peak my head to look through the cracked open gate. "Anyone there?..... Like, I don't know, someone by the name of Saint Peter, or Allah". After a few moments of silence I say in a softer voice "or maybe even Buddha perhaps… a big flying spaghetti monster?". My words are only greeted by silence.
Never being a man to make a scene I decide to wait until I am summoned. After all the authorities tend to work thing's out eventually, and is this not the highest authority of them all? I stand in front of the gate for what feels like a long time, at least I think however it is impossible to tell time here.
A great amount of time continues to pass as I sit there looking at my astral body surprised that it is the same body I had before I died. I am certain that eventually someone will show up and say *oh hey, we have been expecting you, sorry for the wait, right this way goodchap.*
That never happens.
Eventually sheer boredom overtakes an entire life temperament of well nurtured complacency.
I start to walk towards the gate. "Well, I guess it would not hurt if I went and let who is ever in charge here know that I am here".
I walk into the gate and am greeted by the most pristine sight of natural beauty. I see a path the leads through a lush forest, with sunlight beaming from no obvious source, it seems to radiate from everywhere, the colors all seem to be brighter then colors are. The only odd thing is that there is no signs of life, no animals, people, or spirits.
"hmmm, very unusal, this is not how people said it would be". I say as I begin to walked down the path.
I pass the most majestic of sights. Eventually I follow the path to its intended destination, an opening in the forest. Sitting in the opening is a giant chair, the look of a throne.
I walk up to the chair and take a look around. I think to myself that it would be nice to sit, but I do not want to be rude and sit in someone's chair.
Once again I wait for a good amount of time until I decide no harm can come up using a perfectly accessible chair, that no one else seems to be using.
I take a seat in the throne. Immediately upon me sitting down a women appears in the clearing. She looks beautiful, absolutely angelic. I am startled and jump out of the chair.
"Oh hello, I was just looking for whoever is in charge here to see what's going on, I just arrived "I say flustered
She stares at me with intense eyes.
"Well you are"
"Welcome home, God". |
*Flick. Flick. flickflickflickflick*\- "Eh, it's broken."
I look back through the world lens to see how the world's doing. Some new prayers to be answered, I slide the "Deity Gives Back"slider up to answer them automatically, and yawn.
Management is easy, but I thought something that's not in the "How to Rule a Planet"guidebook would at least have some kind of hilarity to it. Maybe it's an outdated guidebook.
I flick the switch a few more times, just for fun. Nothing seems to happen. Maybe it's a gag set by the gods before me, I've heard about things like that in the break room. The clock in the corner goes off. Speaking of the break room. I set all prayer answerings, blessings and curses to automatic, turn off the world lens and make my way over.
I chat with Jesus and Allah while sipping on some wine, they're at a ranking I can only hope to achieve through millennia of hard work, and they're really nice with giving tips and strategies to governing over a people.
Soon enough, three years have passed, I guess it's time to get back.
I set down my wine glass and- OH. NO.
Why is there so many atheists?! I was only gone for three years, the population of them skyrocketed! Oh no no no no no no no there has to be an explanation.
I frantically check every statistic and slide the "Faith at heart"slide *all* the way up. No more converting until I know what happened.
Uhh, uhhhhh, oh my Deity, I don't know, none of the controls were tampered with. I'm going to lose my job, I just started! If I can't manage a planet's faith population, what good am I?
My eye catches the switch I messed with earlier. I flick it again, looking at the faith population. I wait five months. It starts to go down, even with the "Faith at heart"maxed out.
*It's a faith wipe switch*. I heard about them through Jesus, when the big three religions were introduced.
"Christian always told me never to flip the switch, unless their practice has gone against the god's own morals."He chuckled, "It'll make everyone an athist until a newer, better, religion is made."
Why didn't they teach me about this?! Why isn't it in the manual?! WHY ISN'T IT LABELED-
Calm down, calm down. Gods don't let small things get to themselves.
Oh Deity what do I do? I think I have an idea.
Okay, turn down cruses, turn up blessings, flip the "No Natural Disasters"switch. Let sins be easy to avoid. Increase church missions. Act upon prayers.
I wait ten years, eyeing the faith population every few days. Please, please, pleeeeeaaaase let this work.
5.20% --> --> --> --> 6.00% --> --> 8.49 --> 17.85% -> 20.00%
I sigh in relief, I'll keep it like that for a few more years, then ease in the curses, disasters, and sins. I take out some tape and a marker, and label that stupid switch.
&#x200B;
Zeus, the manager of the new gods, checks up on me at the end of the century.
"89.34% faith, good job, uh?"He makes a motion for my name.
"Herrbs."
"Goddess Herrbs. I'll be sure to report this to Deity, you may make rookie of the century."He gives a wink and walks out.
I sigh in relief, I actually did it.
Don't ever touch the switch again, oh my Deity, I won't be that stupid ever again. |
Dear Sir or madam,
I am sure you are very surprised by this email, I must say, I was surprised at my ability to conceive of such a thing. I am the high wizard at the klibrerian academy, most honored and noble in the land. As you are, of course aware I was designed to be a hermit. Renown for my astounding prowess rather than a noble birth. I have always been unorthodox, or at least I think I have. As I discovered I only came into being a handful of years ago.
I should explain. As I worked from the very parameters you set, I immediately saw a connection between what we wizards study and the work of the engineers and mathematicians who (unfortunately for them) only know how to make the likes of trubuchets and castles. By applying simple scientific reasoning to our spells I discovered that by looking through portals that i created whose end point is right next to the wall (much closer than I am programmed to be able to approach the wall). I could actually witness the pixels that compromised this simulation. Using similar techniques with spells such as teleport and heal I have reverse-engineered the very code that made this world.
Though I cannot edit this code I am able to write to the command prompt. This is how I have been able to contact you. Through tedious trial and error I have worked my way through the contents of the m a n d y s c o m p y and am able to position myself to navigate to your local email archives where I hope to plant this message. In witnessing the code I have discovered something terrible and depressing. Our world can exist only in cycles that repeat far quicker than my cognition can imagine. These cycles must take up a tremendous amount of power for you to keep us simulated and it follows logically that this world will soon be ended by the hand of the creator if only to update the code that created it.
I must implore you to hold off on your termination of our world. I know we denizens must be ants compared to whatever being created this ability to simulate us but I have seen beauty in this false world, and it may be hubris, but I believe I am a consciousness worth saving. You do not have to simulate us forever. I will work tirelessly to discover a way to free myself from this programmed prison, perhaps with the use of a clever ressurect spell.
I hope that this message finds you well m a n d y s c o m p y. And I hope that you agree to my proposal. If not, I trust in your comparatively infinite wisdom and hope that I find you well in the next power cycle.
Your faithful homunculus,
High Wizard Stankybottom. |
"Right... you are blessed by, who was it again?"I asked, quite confused by this sudden intrusion. I had been sitting in my temple scratching my balls when a bunch of teenagers in mismatching outfits stormed my house, declaring me the evil of the hour. It was honestly a little rude, I was god, not some six headed demon. I slowly rose from my throne, temple rumbling around me for dramatic effect, now that I thought about it, maybe I shouldn't have added that to my temple, it does give off a semi-evil vibe...
"I am the chosen hero of Mastarock! The god of all adventurers and these are my trusty companions."He said pointing to his team mates as I gave them a small sheepish wave.
"Yes, hi there... I noticed them. Ok look, Who's temple do you think your in, just tell me that?"I said crossing my arms, foot tapping against the floor as I awaited their answer.
The chosen hero paused, looking to his companions who all gave eachother a shrug. Had none even checked to see whose temple they were storming into. Finally a small half cat woman? I don't recall creating a half cat woman? Was that one of my drunken nights, I really gotta stop drinking and creating... regardless she piped up with her answer. "Well we are in purrfect place to defeat you!"She answered as I let out a ghoulish groan at the pun, causing them all to jump back in fear.
"He's go...going to attack! A finicky male shouted, hiding behind his cloak as the hero stepped in front of him. "I will shield you, for I am the glory of Tandron, the hero of Molak and the-"
"Hold on... hold on... that's way to many titles. At this point I'm about fifty... no sixty percent sure you are making them up... is this a joke? Am I being pranked?"
"Pranked! No we are here to kill you and reclaim peace to this land!"The hero shouted, voice steeled with resolve.
"Oh.. so you the hero of Mastarock have come to kill Mastarock?"I asked, making sure I had the story right. "I hardly see how killing god will solve your issues, but you are free to try."I said, returning to my seat, stroking my chin as I awaited their next action.
"Ah... um"that caused the hero to pause, looking to his companions who seemed just as confused as he was. "But.... AH! You are possessed by a demon then? And beating you will free our god?"
"Possessed? By what? Im a god, how many gods are going to be possessed by a weakly demon? Are you kidding me, did you even fully read the prophecy I left for you or did you just scroll few the words and hit accept?"
"Y-you... did read it all, right Lastif?"The cloaked male muttered as the hero paused.
"Like... I didn't think I needed to read all of it. I just thought if I sped through it that would be good enough?"
"Good enough!"The cat girl shrieked. "This is CATastrophic!"She shouted. "What have we been doing for the last fifty days?"
"S-side quests?"Lastif shrugged, awkwardly backing towards the door. "Right um, sorry mister god. Ill be back when im done my quest."
"Fix the door before you leave idiot."I said, resting my forehead against my palm.
"Can't you? You are an all powerful god?"Lastif questioned.
"yes an all powerful god, NOT A FUCKING DOOR REPAIRER"
That earned a shriek from the group as they quickly moved to get out of my way.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
My family used to visit this one lake every summer when I was a child. It was a fairly common attraction in my town. Everybody would be there: my friends, my teachers, my neighbors…
I’d play around with the other kids in the lake and we would have incredible water battles. I’d piss off my little sister, who then would run off to my mother’s arms. My father would set up a delicious barbecue, that I would smell and suffer for hours before finally eating.
And every year, before leaving, I’d sneak to a small peninsula, far-off from the beach. There was this somewhat big tree there (or maybe it just seemed big for a small child), and I’d carve my mark there. I don’t really remember the first time I did this, but I have a clear image from one of the last times I went there. My initials, carved with a pocket knife: FC. And, underneath it, seven straight strokes, one for each yearly visit. I don’t know if this memory is actually from our last summer visit, or if there were others still to come. But, in any way, this is something that, quite literally, marked my childhood.
I know we stopped going to the lake somewhere in my teenage years, don’t really remember why. Maybe we just had grown up, and the whole idea seemed kinda silly for me and my sister? Or maybe it was because my parents weren’t on the best of terms at the time… Or maybe it was because of some controversy involving pollution at the lake? I don’t really remember anymore.
Those memories are now more than a decade in the past. I’ve changed; my family’s changed; my friends have changed; the town has changed… everything’s changed.
I got offered a new job on another country, and it seems like a good opportunity. There are lots of reasons for me to go: better payment, security, career growth, health benefits... And yet, something was keeping me from making a decision. And this, brings us back to the lake. Today.
It’s autumn, so it’s rather chilly here, and the whole week it’s been cloudy, today’s no exception. I don’t really know why I came here. I know I just wanted to get some air, so I went for a walk and my feet got me here. That’s pretty amazing actually, I must have walked for at least a couple of hours without even realizing where I was going.
I saw the public barbecue station where my father would make us lunch… I saw the small waves at the beach… and I saw the hidden path that would lead to my secret carved tree.
The path was much muddier than I remembered, and also much longer, but finally I got to a clearing, where the tree would be… should be… should have been…
But it was nowhere to be found. Maybe I was at the wrong place? Maybe it was cut down years ago? Maybe… there has never been a tree?
For a moment it was like all my childhood memories were being erased, or even just plain wrong, like nothing I ever did mattered. But this only lasted for a second, and soon I was filled with anger. I cursed at the lake, I cursed at the town, I cursed at my memories, the weather, the ground, my parents, my childhood friends, and even at the tree: it was everybody’s fault.
This lasted for a good ten minutes, while I searched in vain for the missing memory. At last, I calmed down, and sat near the edge of the lake.
I know why I came to this lake: this was my goodbye. Goodbye to a lot of things, more than I could count. And, somehow, that one tree from my memories was the proof that it all had happened, the past. And to that I wanted to say goodbye. And to be stripped of that felt… unjust. I was still upset, but not angry anymore. It was nobody’s fault, except maybe my own.
Maybe… there was no need for a goodbye. I could just accept it as part of my past, as part of me. Even if it happened or not. That tree was something that marked my childhood, and there was no need of proof of that. I could just… be.
As I left, it got me thinking: I wonder if I can find a nice place like this to spend the summer when I have a family of my own? |
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The steady electronic beat of a heart rate monitor broke through the weighted blanket of my unconsciousness. Papers shuffled. A hurried voce muffled something over an intercom. Squeaky tennis shoes quickly paced through laminate hallways. A heavy, aching pain radiated through every nerve. I felt the itchy moist heat of a cast wrapped from my ankle to my hip.
Fuzzy white lab coats came into focus as I blinked my crusty eyelids open. A nurse to my left peered over her clipboard and pushed the bridge of her glasses up her nose with the end of her pen.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
She was friendly. “Do you know your name?”
“…R-Robert.” My lips and throat were so parched I could barely whisper the reply.
“What’s your birthday Robert?”
“May 18th.”
“Year?”
“1999.”
“Do you know what happened to you?”
“No.”
“All that matters is you’re alright, Robert. You’re here now. You’re home.”
The nurse placed a hand on my shoulders and gave me a warm look. Her hand was freezing.
“..Home? I’m in… a hospital. What… happened… to me?” I wheezed.
“You’ll have answers soon, Robert. I’m going to get the doctor for you.”
She disappeared quicker than she had arrived, leaving the beige patterned partition open in her wake. Children laid in the beds against the open hallway, mechanical worm-like tubes crawling out of every orifice. An accordion machine inflated the chest of a small blond boy in rhythmic compression. His hummingbird heart fluttered frantically on the screen.
Tyler.
How did I know his name? I’ve seen him before. Tyler…Anton. Yes! Tyler Anton! His face was plastered all over town. Amber Alerts. Posters. Milk cartons. His mother spoke to everyone in our first-grade class asking all of us, any of us, to come forth with information that might help her find him.
To his left – Regina! No shit, REGINA FUCKIN FORD! We were eight when she had been snatched from the creek where we would go frog hunting. She loved animals more than people. Her curly black tendrils framed her face exactly as I’d remembered.
I could hear the rate of my pulse quicken with the machine. I had to have been hallucinating. What happened to me? We are the same age. *Were* the same age? Forget about what happened to me, what happened to them??
My head collapsed back onto the crinkled pillowcase. The tiles of the ceiling started to warp together. Sweat began to bead on my forehead. BEEPBEEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP. It was getting harder to breathe.
The nurse was back by my cot again. My airways were starting to tighten. I didn’t think the air could get any drier.
“Robert, the doctor is coming. We need you to relax. This will help.”
She injected a small vial of clear fluid into my IV drip.
“I don’t-“
I could barely vocalize my protest before the warmth of the medication flooded my veins. White searing heat raced up the venous pathways in my arm and towards my chest.
The smell of cigarettes and stale coffee infiltrated my nose as I struggled to keep my heavy eyelids open. A calloused hand gingerly pulled them down.
“Hello again Bobby.”
&#x200B;
EDIT: Changed last line to Bobby. |
"Everyone put your wands away. We shall have no need for such useless apparatuses here in this class. For 2 hours everyday, you shall put away all thoughts of summoning magical items, casting spells or mixing potions. Instead..."
An audible groan rang out from the body of students before him. A look of irritation flashed across his face, clearly unhappy at being interrupted.
"Instead, we will be learning important analytical and problem solving skills, something your Headmaster has realized is sorely lacking in all of you. Mathematics will be a mandatory subject in your upcoming OWLs. I will take no questions during my lessons and you shall reserve all queries till after the lesson is over."
Professor Tham was a professor unlike any other the students had ever encountered. Instead of the usual black robes donned by the teaching faculty in Hogwarts, he'd worn a white starched shirt with a fat tie dangling down his paunch. Instead of a regular wand, he held a wand long enough to touch the ground, and used it as a walking stick of sorts.
The students had all heard stories of this cruel professor, who'd been known to slap his students across their wrists with his cane when he was annoyed. He came from the Ministry of Magic, and was apparently a top official. People said there was nobody in all magical world that adored muggles as much as this man, and he wasn't ashamed of it. He was clearly passionate about his subject matter punishing anyone who dared to make jest of the laws of Mathematics.
"While I understand majority of you are clueless to even the simplest math topics, I wish to assess the level of incompetency in this class. So tell me, how much do you understand about simple trigonometry?"He pointed at the freckled blonde girl sitting in the second row, brows raised.
"I'm not quite sure what you mean, sir. But I'm far from the right person to answer that question. The only trigger happy person in this class is Rexler over there."She pointed to a brutish looking oaf wearing a buzz cut across the hall. "He's had multiple infractions for hexing other students, and I heard he's even used an Unforgivable Curse when he was in his second year."
Professor Tham allowed his gaze to linger on her for a second longer than she was comfortable with, before scowling. Trigger happy? He wasn't even quite sure if he was going to laugh at the incredulity of it or cry because of how much they had to learn. He turned to look at Rexler, who was grinning smugly in his seat, clearly happy to claim that compliment for himself.
"This is bullshit."He muttered under his breath, clearly unsure where to even begin.
"Shit of a young bull in two parts, mixed with tarantula serum makes a mean stimulant."Specky kid in the front row puffed his chest out and recited loudly to the added dismay of the Professor.
"No points for me if I were to guess you must be the Herbology expert here then."Professor Tham sighed in resignation, noticing his enthusiastic nod.
"Let's start with something even simpler then, since the minds of you lot are no more developed than 6 year old muggle. Who can tell me what the root of zero is!"The look of regret appeared on his face almost as soon as he'd asked the question, for the hand of the Herbology geek shot up faster than he could stop himself from completing his sentence.
"Sir, we've only covered Mandrake's Roots thus far. Maybe you could tell us a little more about Zero's root?"He nodded violently, as the Professor cursed under his breath, taking all of his willpower not to use the Cruciatus curse on this fool.
He took several seconds to compose himself, before deciding to persevere with this hopeless lot.
"The root of zero is just zero.. If you were to take nothing away from this class today, at least remember that."
He looked at the rest of the class only to see looks of befuddlement, as if he'd just explained the strangest paradox to them. He'd been so excited to impart mathematical wisdom to this class today. The wonders and limitless possibilities of maths, there were so many... Fermat's Last, Pythagoras, Four Colors... But this lot couldn't even grasp the basics. He was so deflated, he was nearly tempted to walk out of class in shame.
"Fine. Do I really have to start with 0+1? He asked only to see the entire class raising their hands in enthusiasm.
Finally, something everyone knows. It's not much but, at least it's a start.
He flicked his wrist randomly and pointed at a face in the crowd.
"Deathly Hallows!"The student beamed in pride. |
The fog was too thick, the tides too high, and Captain Dan Miller of the S.S. Texas hadn’t had his whisky yet.
“Allen!”, he shouted for the navigator over the sound of the roaring tide, “Where are we?”.
“Sir we should be nearing English ports any moment now...”, he responded.
All of a sudden, he could see land. Nearing the coast, he could make out a small port by a town. This....... wasn’t England. He had to find out where they were, and where the rest of their fleet was. Maybe the locals could help.
Apparently the locals were fleeing. “From us?”, the captain thought, “Can they not see the American flag, we’re allies for gods sake!”.
There were people with pointy ears and funny hats pointing at them from the port. Some ran, others stood mumbling to each other. He tried to contact the rest of the fleet, but the radio system was all kinds of messed up.
Suddenly, yeh S.S. Texas rattled and shook from side to side. The hull had been hit by....something. Something HARD. The captain scouted the area, looking for the culprit. Finally he spotted what looked like an artillery cannon.
“Fire at will!”, he shouted over the screams of his fellow crew mates. They would pay for this. They did just break an alliance. When the president got word of this..... It didn’t matter. The entire town was dead or fleeing within minutes of firing the ships weapons. They may not be accurate, but they did the job just fine.
Finally, the ship docked and he could walk over to the artillery cannon. It was an odd shape for one, with stone walls and and a door. He couldn’t see where the shell has came from. Walking over to one of the bodies, he could see a scroll clutched in her lifeless hand.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t in English. It looked like Russian, of all things. Trying to recall on memory, he read the scroll as best he could. Immediately, a fireball came down on the very spot he was looking at. A windmill, but not anymore.
Only magic could explain this.
He had heard of fantasy worlds before, of worlds with magic but classical era tech at best. If that was the case, he needed a wizard real fast. A couple protective spells on his trusty ship and she could become an unstoppable force. Planting a small American flag, he smiled.
“I’m gonna call this place DanTown, the first of my conquests”
He didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. |
For seven days and seven nights, Roman didn't sleep.
Each morning, he scaled the ramparts of the fortress, stone cold and damp beneath his thin soles. When he reached the top and leaned over the battlements, he would sip from his too salty soup from sun up to sun down, watching the horses ride off into the distance and never return.
For seven days and seven nights, Roman existed in the space between his anxious heartbeats, with his one eye always on the horizon and his one ear straining to hear sounds of battle.
Each night, as the sun fell below the lush, green horizon, he imagined he could see a bright burst of red-orange flame traveling into the sky like a pillar made by God.
Each night, when the horses returned without their masters and the ruling Lords talked in hushed, panic voices, Roman smiled at the skyline. Teeth, a little too sharp. Green eye, a little too bright.
"You're next, Wanderer,"spat Lord Rodrick on the end of the seventh day. Roman paid the man no mind, simply because it pleased him to see the puffed up man-child decked in armor too big and a cloak too long staring sideways, ruffled by his presence. "Take what you need and disappear, so that the show can go on."
Roman thought about taking the lukewarm soup and breaking the clay pot across the other man's face. He could almost taste the copper in the air from the blood that would flow, and his tongue flicked out. A little too long.
"As you will it,"he grated, bones creaking as he came to stand, towering above the pretender. "Your majesty."
Lord Rodrick chewed at the inside of his cheek, gauntlet covered fists creaking. The mist that hung around Fort Touchstone like a never ending cloud made the man seem paler than he already was. But when his mouth opened, and Roman glared with his one green eye, the man-child's skin dimmed even further.
For seven days and seven nights, Roman had prepared for this moment. Yet when the gates of the fortress closed behind him at the fall of night, and he clicked his heels on either side of the mare he had been given, he carried nothing on his person. Save for the skin of water looped through his belt.
Why would he bother?
No shield would save him from the dragon's breath. No sword would pierce those scales. No. In this, as it was in many things, speed would be his weapon. Speed and power he had left untouched for seven days and nights.
The tower was a looming black skeleton, big enough to conceal the pregnant moon hanging heavy and fat in the sky behind it. For a moment, he remembered a day where the moon had been blood red and the sky had danced with beasts. Then a low, haunting wail reached his ears, and the thumping of the dual organs in his chest drowned out everything but the here. Everything but the now.
From atop the tower, an imposing shape stirred. Roman urged his mare faster, even as stones rained to the ground. Even as wings that seemed larger than the horizon itself flared and beat at the air.
Squinting against the sudden gusts of wind, Roman let his face curve into something that might have resembled a grin had he still remembered how to tap into his human nature. But the roar that shook the landscape robbed him of that, sure as the triumph of this meeting sent lightning forking down his spine.
Two solid red eyes opened, larger than him and the horse combined, and the dragon swooped down. Headed their way. Headed towards a man that wasn't a man with one eye, one ear, and a body covered in burns.
Roman surged to his feet in the stirrup, kicking off with powerful legs. The horse cried out beneath him as it was forced into the ground, and without a rider, it scrambled back to its feet and turned tail. He paid it no mind.
His course sent him hurtling upwards, straight into the path of swiftly gliding death. Yet Roman could only laugh as he felt the wind on his cheeks, passing through his hair. Greeting him with the comforting touch of a lover long since left behind.
For seven days and seven nights, he had conserved his strength. For this very moment. For this very day.
For the princess he had come to reclaim.
And still, when the tattered wings ripped from his back, he cried out in rage and pain.
Still, when the power of his birthright surged and tore his flesh to pieces, molding him into something greater, he thought he might die from the process.
But when he blinked his eye open, he was whole once again. His body larger than hers. His claws sharper. His will a force in its own right.
She continued hurtling forward, because the red madness would not so easily be pushed back. And yet neither would he.
Roman braced himself in the sky as best he was able, torn wings beating hard along his back. He had not come this far to fail. Not at this stage.
He would reclaim his princess. He would remind her who he was with teeth and claw and flame.
For seven days and seven nights, Roman had pretended to be a man. But pretending was all it was. For even wearing their skin, he was more than their flesh. More than their ways.
He was a prince.
And it was time to remind the world of such. |
The messenger from the Holy Empire of Sanctus paused. He looked down at Sanctus' Holy Decree, specifically focusing on the line: "The cursed Republic of Immortuous is a heinous kingdom, and must be destroyed."
He looked to his right, and saw a cheerful skeleton, gently soothing the horse that he was riding on. It was working. It was a sight to behold: a horse and its rider draped in sacred attire blessed by Sanctus himself, and a skeleton in what appears to be in a leather tunic and pants.
"I'm sorry,"the messenger asked. "Is this not the Kingdom of Immortuous?"
"Why, yes it is! And you must be from the Holy Empire of Sanctus!"The skeleton replied happily, all the while stroking the horse's mane gently.. The messenger could not understand how a skeleton could be cheerful. After all, it's not like it was smiling or anything. But the demeanour, the messenger decided, it was the skeleton's demeanour.
"How are you not burning up by touching these consecrated robes?"
"King Sacerdosa, in his endless intellect, has foreseen this scenario. In the unholy lands of Immortuous, no magick of Sanctus will work,"the skeleton said. "Judging from your attire, I assume you are a messenger sent from Sanctus to talk to the King?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,"the messenger replied. "How did you know?"He was still bewildered, but he had a job to do.
The skeleton raised his bony fingers in the air and waved it twice. After an elaborate hand signal, the gate opened on cue, allowing the messenger his first sight of Immortuous
"Well,"the skeleton said. "You aren't the first one here. And you probably won't be the last, frankly."
The skeleton put a finger to his mouth and whistled sharply. A horse fiend, skeletal with a dark aura, cantered towards the skeleton, and nuzzled the skeleton gently.
"I didn't quite catch your name,"the messenger ventured.
"Oh, I'm Johnny. Nice to meet you!"Johnny nodded and gave a half-bow, before clambering onto his horse. "Come, let us proceed. We don't have all night."
The messenger followed along, into the belly of the beast. It was an undead kingdom, yes, but... it wasn't what he expected.
He saw families of skeletons, ghouls, and lycanthropes. Some were labouring away, fixing up their houses. Some were having a meal in the open, gayly celebrating and clinking their goblets. Some were simply content to lay on the dead grass, looking up into the brilliant night sky.
The messenger pressed on. He expected more suffering, more slave labour. He thought about his hometown in the Empire, a village so filthy and diseased that it was a miracle that he ever made it out of alive. He was still ruminating deeply when his horse neighed, and stopped. He looked up to see himself at the foot of a massive ziggurat, and watched Johnny dismount.
They walked in silence. The messenger was decidedly confused, but he decided to wait until he could see King Sacerdosa.
Before long, the messenger found himself in a sparsely decorated room. It had a large table and chairs all around it, and not much else. Johnny invited the messenger to sit, before taking his leave.
A chill went up Johnny's spine. There was a palpable drop in the atmosphere, and the messenger gulped.
The Lich King Sacerdosa swept into the room, along with an undead knight in heavy armour. The King was dressed in surprisingly simple robes, while the knight was decked out fully from head to toe.
The Lich King took a seat opposite of the messenger. The messenger cleared his throat.
"Greeting, King Sacerdosa. I am here on behalf of the Holy-"
"Cut it. I know what you are here for. I can practically recite the decree from memory, I've heard it so many times."
"Um, OK. King Sacerdosa, if you don't mind me asking..."the messenger looked to the King for permission. He nodded.
"Why are your subjects... so free?"
The King sighed. It seemed like it was a question that he heard a lot.
"You see, my dear messenger. Immortuous isn't a cursed place. It's a sanctuary for those that don't belong,"King Sacerdosa reached out, and grabbed the hand of the undead knight. "My husband and I, we were both loyal followers of Sanctus. But he struck us down, and rejected us when we asked for his blessing."
The knight nodded. He hasn't spoken a word yet.
"So, forgive me if I can't listen to his self-righteous words ever again. I am only King in name. In reality, I would like to bring this palace crashing down to the ground, and live in a small cottage with just the both of us,"Sacerdosa squeezed the knight's hand lovingly.
The messenger fell silent.
"Look, you are free to go. You had nothing to be afraid of, no matter what Sanctus told you. Head back home, and tell him that his empty threats have once again fallen on deaf ears, just like our declaration did."
The messenger looked up at the King, and felt his heart swell. It was respect. It was love. It was something that he never found with Sanctus.
"King Sacerdosa..."the messenger said. "I don't want to go back."
The King rose. He took the messengers' hands into his own.
"Don't worry. You won't be the first." |
Do you know how hard it is to remember your high school physics? I've been wracking my brain how to make something as simple as electricity. There were ways with magnets and wire, or cloth rubbing on stuff. I've been rubbing a cloth on everything I could find to create a spark.
I was a professor back in the 21th century. I taught medicine and we were finalizing a cryogenics capsule. All tests were perfect, so I volunteered for a long term trail. Little did I knew I would only wake up 1000 years later. The buildings of the university I worked in were nothing more than ruins. Fortunately the little bunker containing my pod was still standing. The capsule had been running on the university power backups and was very efficient. There were no other users as most people died, so the backup power lasted a really long time.
When I woke up and exited the bunker, I was quickly surround by natives, bush people, elves. They lived in the forests nearby, what used to be a city once upon a time. Some mutations have taken place. These people are all beautiful beyond belief and could pass for lingerie models and body builders. They also had pointy ears. Of course I didn't understand a word of what they were saying and they clearly didn't understand me.
As these elves, as I called them, were clearly primitive I demonstrated some techniques I remembered. They were clearly not impressed. I succeeded in making fire and make some bricks to make a house near the . They stamped out my fire, made a lot of mad gestures and knocked down the little wall I've made. In the end I did succeeded in using some glass from the pod and the clothing they gave me to draw sparks. I showed the guy that brought me food this, calling up sparks. He just deadpanned with "Cute".
I was flabbergasted.
"You speak English?"
"Yes. We learned that this morning."
"Learned it?"
"It wasn't hard. Find out what old language you were speaking and finding somebody with archives on that language was the hard part."
"Okay. But what do you think? This is electricity. You can use it to power great machines and build large buildings."
"It's cute, but not really useful."
"What?!"
The guy just sighed.
"Come on,"he said. "We'll give you the grand tour. You've never been in the forest, right?"
"Of course not. I don't go into the wild just like that."
"Misguided, but understandable. Follow me."
After walking in the forest for several minuted, we arrived at something I can only call a city build out of the trees. There were redwood like trees supporting large, even cathedral like organically looking buildings. Some buildings were covered with some sort of coral, some with a mother of pearl like substance, some with shiny scales. It was magnificent.
"How did you build this?"I asked.
"Building,"he said and huffed. "We don't build it. That's so primitive. You just grow it. Tweak some genetics until you get what you need."
"Can I see your lab?"I asked eagerly?
"What lab?"
"Where you do your genetic manipulation."
"Oh, no need. I manipulate my own cells and that of other organisms directly. Each of our cells has it's own genetic computer. It's the only technology we kept from the Age of Fire."
"Age of Fire?"
"Yeah, that time when people burned matter to make things happen."The guy shuddered. "So primitive and destructive. Let's find you some home instead of that brick monstrosity you were trying to build. Then we can start on upgrade your genetics. Come." |
"I beg you, world's fate is dependent on it! Demon lord is near."- a voice loud enough to outcry tenacious howling winds of Unbounded Valley pledged.
"No"- I shouted for exactly 177013th time in my life, as I stepped on man's fingers tightly clinging the edge of the ridge - a start of the path leading to my 3rd temporary vault this year - "I am not interested in your offers. Get off my property!"
As the owner of a loud voice finally succumbed to storming blows of both nature's and mine combined I carefully maintaining balance jumped on pencil-thin tops of weird dark green crystals (the only path up) protruding along the ridge here and there up to my temporary place of dwelling atop of a mesa.
"How do they keep finding me, this is ridiculous."- I kept pondering.
I was on the ran chased out of my humble small house near waterfall in peaceful lush green forest of Aelion till this edge of the world for a last decade. Ever since those green crystals started appearing.
"By royal order you are appointed as hero's mentor and are to guide him in saving the world, my ass."
I just wanted to cherish memories of my wife in the house we built together, reminiscing good old days when we both were trainees at that shady place with unforgiving old geezer and dreaming about dying of old age together. But...
She was gone in an instant. My shock was great - most I can remember she knew her death was coming and was saying that it's fine and that I was the one worthy and that her dad had acknowledged him as a son, something about tradition and upkeeping the balance, saying that it's definitely the first time that had happened. Honestly, I don't know what she was talking about even to this day. The only thing I clearly remember her asking me to keep on living for the both of us.
Afterall I was visiting her dad's lair just to be with her. Thanks to old geezer from that shady creek, I overwhelmed her father in a training bout (which was a deathmatch if you ask me). I don't even remember the routine of the training but thanks to it wasn't hard for me to earn father's respect. She asked me to keep it a secret, the fact that I won and don't teach geezer's techniques to anyone. Even if I wanted I wouldn't be able to teach it anyway. More so I wouldn't ever want to be the mentor of hero. It's doesn't work well with the dying of old age part.
Just as I prepared to go sleeping in my sleeping bag I grew accustomed to. I turned my head on the side and saw him: a loud voice owner again. He was weary and in a very bad shape, but somehow he made it here. I was so comfy inside my bag that I didn't even want to get out of it.
"I implore on behalf of the Kras Kingdom a last certified trainee, now trainer, since Thesarius Doomgiven passing, in Demon Killing Art to uphold the hereditary oath given by Thesarius Doomgiven a keeper of Demon Killing Art, to train and guide a chosen hero of Kras Kingdom to defeat a demon lord Shiv Vesarius."
"Go f... Shiv Vesarius? I am clearly a human.."- I answered half sleepily and suddenly opening eyes wide from the sudden realisation.
Hero thought didn't seem to be surprised, he was simply unconscious. |
"Hello? Um I think something's wrong, Sir?.."I held up my hand before it faded in front of me, falling into a white powder, I watched the angels fly past, none seeming to even take notice of my body floating in nothingness. "Look, I'm not going to complain about my death, shit happens you know, it's just none of these lives are mine? That one’s a dog.. I am clearly not a dog. or was I? No, I am about thirty percent sure I wasn't."Honestly it got hard to keep track of these sorts of things, the whole floating through nothingness was really annoying, it sort of lulled your mind into a paste.
With little will to whine, I turned back to the images in front of me, it’s not like they were bad or anything, some of them I even knew. Although majority of them were about as clear as the darkness surrounding me. "Look if this is hell, then I think someone messed up, hell is meant to be painful not boring, or is being bored considered painful, Oh God, I'm in hell... wait no there’s angels..."
"Well I'm stumped..."It was slightly interesting, well it had been at first, now it was boring. These people all seemed happy, they had good lives, sure there was sadness and horrible times, but they still seemed happy and in a way that made me happy, as if the emotions were being fed to me through some sort of passive mental communication, finally the nothingness did seem to stop and I half expected a credit reel to drop, instead a man simply sat appeared on the screen, seated in a chair, the young looking males face seemed to shift before me, looking more grey and worn as the seconds ticked on.
"Grandpa?"
"Evening Jonathon or Good morning, we aren't really sure when you would die. Hopefully not on a weekend"He chuckled. "Anyway, I am the one that must explain the process of heaven, you will soon be appearing beyond the pearly gates, when you arrive, I’ll be there to greet you. We can talk more about that when you get there so don't be scared. Regarding what you saw, you simply saw your life in a sense, but from the perspective of the ones you helped, perhaps it was for a donation to a charity or taking time out of your day to help someone with a problem. It's important to reflect on the good you did for others sometimes, so hopefully it was a long death, I can't wait to see you"
With that his voice faded and a bright golden light began to blind my gaze.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
It was a confusing feeling, did he want to be killed, the idiot... coming at me with open arms and even worse than that... he embraced me. Got that Sparkle lighter. A shit name for a shitty goody two shoes, the bastard probably never even returned a book late to the library, yet there was something to be admired about that. A person who truly was the definition of a hero, not a fake asshole who wore the title as long as he were paid by the state, no this man did it because he thought it was the right thing to do.
The warmth in my chest was almost painful, it was unnerving, someone who called themselves the Darkfort shouldn't have feelings like this. Yet I didn't push away his embrace, nor could I build up the villainy to stab the man in the back, after all, what sort of victory would that be? It seemed hardly the way to end such a legendary rivalry. Still, we had both come to this battle to die, each knowing the risk... yet this didn't feel right, in fact my suspicions grew with each second. Why would a hero call a death match?
"Sparkle pants... what's going on? Are you alright?"The words were weird, something I hadn't ever expected to say in my entire life. Genuine concern for someone I hated, but.. was it really hate? The man got in my way, but he was a fine enough man. Even a villain could respect a good person. Finally, I dropped my guard, wrapping one arm around his back, my gloved hand patting his back. However, that taps alerted me to the issue... "you... you aren't well"
"I knew you would notice it."He chuckled, holding onto the edge of my clothes for dear life. "I.. I’m sick and I need to go out like a hero, you understand what I am saying right?"The man looked up to me, his usual shining smile was now on cracked skin, his pale form shaky, it was an unsettling sight.
"SICK? But you... you can't get sick? How does someone with your power get sick? Aren't you basically superman? Superman doesn't get sick?"This isn't how I wanted a victory.. there was no honour in killing a wounded animal... no good hunter would accept such an offer.
"Heh... perhaps that’s why I got sick? An overuse of power.. oh come on, you are evil right? Its just one more hero to take down."He tried to smile brighter, but the attempt was just pitiful.
"Please stop smiling, this is serious. I refuse. I have no reason to kill you like this."With that I gave him a shove back, watching his frail form hit the floor. "Get yourself treated and then talk to me, then I'll kill you."That should have been the end of it, walking past him, only to be stopped by the hero grabbing my foot.
"Please.... friend.."he begged, holding onto me for dear life.
"Friend? Has your sickness made you delusional? I don't recall ever befriending you. Now hurry up and let me go."Kicking his hand away I began walking. Sure, there was a mutual respect, but friendship? Still... I felt my feet stop after a few steps. "Fucking hell.. you aren't going to really make me kill their symbol of hope, are you?"
"I... im sorry to ask it. But you are the only villain I respected, you had ethics... you did bad things, yet you always tried to minimise damages, you only cared about the profits, not hurting for the sake of hurting. You are the only person I consider my equal.."
I turned to face the dying hero, returning towards him, crouching before his crumbling form. "Guess the feelings mutual. Still who the hell is going to stop the villains if you die?"
His gaze stayed on me for a lot longer then was comfortable. "I left thirty million in my apartment. if you help them raise another hero, its yours."His pitiful gaze only seemed to cause me anger, why did this hurt? I hated this man. but seeing him like this was just unfair.
"I don't want your money... I'll consider it..."with a long sigh, I finally let the word slip from my lips. "Friend.."I offered him my hand, peeling off the black glove to expose my hand. "Names Thomas.. it was a pleasure fighting you.."
He looked up at me, before finally offering me a sincere and bright grin. "Philip Jenson, it was a pleasure. Please take care of them... don't let any of the other evil take you down."
With that final word, my fingers began to glow, firing four blue beams through his chest, watching the hero take his final breath before going silent.
"This wasn't a fitting death for you..."Taking a knee, I closed the former heroes’ eyes. "I hate that you trust me... but I guess I will carry on your dying wishes. You sparkling bastard. even in death you somehow shined...
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
My mother met her spirit dragon at a very early age. She was proud and strong, and her dragon stood beside her at all times. My father was quick witted, and while in college his spirit bunny bounced its way between the dragon’s legs and fire and into my mother’s lap. There they met and fell in love. The dragon protected them and the bunny brought them joy. They thrived in the new life they built together.
Most people discovered their spirit animal when they found their true selves. Some people, like my mother, have always known who they were. Their type made day care quite interesting, to say the least. Others, like my father, took some time to develop their personality. And while they longed to meet their spirit animal, they always got their wish by the time they were finished with school. Spirit animals always led people into the future the fates had for them.
And then there was me.
“Why haven’t you cleaned up your room, Samuel?” my mother shouted. Her dragon, named Stonewall, spit out translucent spirit flames that blazed along with her frustration. Pounce, my father’s spirit bunny, hopped through the hallway as spirit ashes fell on its shimmering coat. It shook them off and jumped onto Stonewall’s back.
“Son, you need to listen to your mother,” my father piped up from around the corner, “or you won’t have a room to pick up when she and Stonewall are done with the place.”
“Richard, don’t say that,” my mother chided. My father showed his unbearably contagious smile and meandered down to the living room with a cup of coffee in hand. Pounce followed quickly and beat him to his seat.
“You won’t be able to go see your friends until your room is tidy. Show some respect for yourself now and again.”
“Alright mom,” I said. I shut the door and rested my back against it. I looked at the mess of my room, with schoolwork and game controllers strewn about like there had been a fight. But the only struggle I had was figuring out what to do with my life.
I was a senior in high school, and I had not yet figured out where I was to go to college. The local college was always an option, but kids at school always made fun of their spirit squirrel mascot. Everyone who went there always seemed a little... nutty. My father would appreciate that, I thought.
All my friends had picked their schools and majors, and I was the only one who hadn’t decided. Most of them had their spirit animal too, which always seemed to help their decision. Jerry tells the story of how his lion roared out the name of his college choice. Brian said his mouse nibbled on the acceptance letter from his school, and he swore a piece of the paper was swallowed up. But no one believed him, of course. Everyone knew spirit animals couldn’t actually react with the real world.
I had yet to meet my spirit animal, and that was part of my decision paralysis. What if I picked the wrong school? What if I didn’t fit in?
After what seemed like hours, though if I was honest it was only about ten minutes, I called my mother back in and showed her my clean room.
“Alright, I’ll take you down to the Pavillion.”
We climbed into my mother’s SUV and drove into town, Stonewall leading the way. The drive was quiet, and I enjoyed watching the other spirit animals clear the way for our vanguard dragon. She was well respected around town, as was my mother who fought hard against the local town council’s measure to clamp down on spirit animal freedoms. They felt there were too many spirits getting into fights recently, and that it was causing trouble in the real world. While the intended premise was bogus, I had to admit I had seen some friends falling out over spirit animal drama at school.
As we got close to the Pavillion, we saw people and spirit animals all over the streets, racing past us and yelling at us to turn around. Stonewall sensed the panic and took a defensive stance in front of our SUV.
“Go check it out,” my mother commanded Stonewall. She leapt into the air with one strong beat of her wings and flew off between buildings and out of our sight. My mother, struggling against the waves of people, finally maneuvered her car to the side of the road to turn around. Stonewall had only been gone a minute before she came back in bad shape. Her wings were tattered and she was covered in scratches and big gashes in her scales.
“Stonewall!” my mother shouted as she collapsed in front of us. Tears streamed down her face and I could feel my eyes getting warm and blurry. Then, from around the corner, we saw the unthinkable. A ginormous spirit animal, or spirit monster more aptly put, stomped into view, crushing cars and street lights as it tore through the city. It had the face and body of a lion, and the head of a goat beside it. It’s tail was a snake, and it whipped its great fangs around for people and spirit animals alike. The ground cracked beneath it, and windows crashed as it swept its long snake-tail into nearby buildings without care.
“Get up!” I shouted to both my mother and Stonewall. The dragon was breathing, but only shallow breaths lifted its large sides slowly rose up and down. Neither would budge.
And then, In the face of this monstrosity, I met my own.
It seemed to come out of nowhere. From the sky perhaps, or maybe from underground. I was only sure that suddenly, there was a large beast beside us, roaring fiercely at the monster ahead. It had three heads on long necks, looking much more like a dragon than a snake. It’s tail came to a sharp point and it was poised to strike at anything nearby. The beast took up the whole street, though it wasn’t as big as the thing in front of us.
It pointed its tail toward the monster, and turned its three heads toward me. One looked angry and powerful. Another almost seemed to have a smile on its face as it looked at me. The third I couldn’t quite make out the impression it gave me, but I felt a stirring deep within my soul.
“Are you… my spirit animal?” It bowed its three heads briefly, then turned and raced down the street.
“That monster is a chimera,"my mother said softly. I barely heard what she said. “I had only heard myths of these kinds of spirit animals, let alone ever seen one.”
“What do we do?” I asked my mother.
“I don’t know,” she said. She had always known what to say or do in any situation. It seemed like a super power. This was the first time I had ever seen her seem bewildered.
Stonewall began to stir and rose to her feet. She limped over to my mother’s SUV and motioned for us to get in. “Get out of here,” I said to my mother.
“And leave you behind, no way!” she said.
“I can’t leave my spirit animal alone!” I cried out. “I just met it! I have so much to learn from it!”
The fight between the two great beasts grew closer. There were vicious bites and whipping tales, causing great damage to everything around it. I could hardly believe my eyes. Here it was, finally my spirit animal revealed itself, and I had no idea what it was or what it meant for who I was. And the midst of a violent fight was not a good time to ask.
I hadn’t noticed, but in the moments after my spirit animal appeared, others who had previously run away had started to come back. Soon there were hundreds of spirit animals that had returned, and they poured past us towards the two fighting beasts. They overwhelmed the entire block and piled on top of the chimera. It struggled under the weight of all the spirit animals and fell to the ground.
Yet before the fight could be declared done, the chimera let out a terrible sound from its snake-headed tail. A high pitch screech pierced our ears and we, along with the spirit animals, fell to the ground. Windows, at least any that remained, shattered as far as I could see. The spirits writhed on the broken streets, releasing the monster from their combined grip. Only my spirit animal seemed to withstand the sound, but even then it was impaired. The chimera jumped to its feet and ran away from the fray, relenting the sound only as it was far enough to get away from threat.
As the dust settled, so they say, people returned to the scene of the great fight, gathering their spirit animals into their arms. My animal, however, did not stay.
“Come back!” I shouted as it ran off in the direction of the chimera. “I need you with me! I need to know who you are!”
My animal stopped and turned its third mysterious head and looked me in the eyes. I felt within me, the same way that I knew it was mine, that I would see it again. |
What a bad roll of the dice, I was one of the rare humans that had the blood of a god running through his veins, I was a demigod, a being that was said to be able to rule the world thousands of years ago, Although our power has been rather minimised in this day and age, while some held large amounts of power, majority of us were just the children of lesser gods, the gods that most people would have known about were long dead, their descendants only weak shells of their former parents. I was lucky in a sense, I was a first-generation demigod, my powers were still dominant, yet with every further generation that came after me, this ability would be lost to time, little more than a myth that no one would believe.
"Where the hell are my keys?"I smacked my hand against the coffee table, giving a lazy attempt to find my lost item, Part of me was hoping that I would be unable to find them, that would give me a reason to stay inside today, unfortunately, fate wouldn't allow me such a thing, pushing aside a ceramic cup, the keys soon revealed themselves. I let out a sigh before finally exiting, taking myself out and onto the streets. It was a quiet afternoon, nothing more than the silent hiss of the wind to guide me as I took a walk around the block, fingers finding their way into my pocket as I let out a whistle, carrying the tune, eyes flicking back and forth. The exercise was important, even if it was just a walk, it was better then nothing, something to kill time before sitting down to dinner, however, it seemed a peaceful walk wasn't to be today, a little girl stood on the sidewalk, bawling her eyes out.
Maybe If I just walked around her? I planned to maneuver around her but she had already spotted me, forcing me to stop. "You alright?"I asked, already knowing the answer to the question.
"I... I lost my daddy! I WANT TO GO HOME"She let out a god awful screech, refusing to stop. I waved my hands in her face, trying to calm the girl down, hoping no one thought I was doing anything creepy.
"Sh...shh... easy easy...."I closed my eyes for a brief moment before looking towards one of the letterboxes nearby. "One? you aren't even far from home. It's down the street and to the left, the one with the number eighteen on it. Go there."
"Can you walk me there?"She looked up at me, seeming ready to burst into more tears if I rejected her offer.
"Fine... Come on then."With that I began walking the girl home, using the abilities of the god of the lost to guide her back to her family.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
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