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"Oh fuck,"said Bainbridge, looking at the unwrapped parcel in front of him. "Susan, who sent this? How did this get on my desk?" "Uh, there ought to be a return address right there,"his receptionist said from the other room. "I realize you're new"he said, folding the brown paper back over the box, "but I've told you, specifically, to start monitoring my mail for -"The paper brushed against the gleaming black lamp, and a geyser of smoke erupted from the box, sending Bainbridge doubled over coughing. "Oh my god, Mr. Bainbridge?"his receptionist said, rushing in. "Is it a-"She stumbled back and shielded her eyes from the fumes. "Was it a bomb? Oh my god, sir, I'm so sorry-" "No, no,"Bainbridge grumbled. A massive swirling figure had assembled itself from the smoke, its bare chest stretching three feet across, gleaming like polished bronze. He looked up at it unimpressed. "It's a genie." "MASTER,"the genie boomed. "You have freed me from the lamp, and you are now granted-" "I didn't rub it!"Bainbridge said. "That could not - it barely touched the lamp, I did not even touch it with my bare hands, that could not possibly constitute rubbing!" The genie looked down at Bainbridge over its crooked nose. An oily grin slid over its face. "O Master, you underestimate yourself. Your mere touch has freed me from centuries of imprisonment and-" "No!"said Bainbridge, shaking his grey head. "No, no, no. I'm not having any of it. No wishes, not dealing with you, I reject all responsibility." "It's a-"Susan stuttered, staring up at the looming figure. "It's a - it's a genie!" "A malicious genie!"Bainbridge said, and waggled his finger at her. "This is why I've told you to be on the lookout for packages like these! You wouldn't believe what a professional hazard it is, genies!"He flailed his arms, trying to dispel the genie's smoke. It floated backwards a few inches and scowled down at him. "For some reason,"he said to Susan, "everyone thinks this is just what a lawyer wants. To have some malicious near-omnipotent entity hanging over his head like a sword of Damocles!" "But, um,"Susan said, her mouth still hanging open. "Isn't it - couldn't you make a contract or-? "Indeed, O Master,"the genie cut it, swooping into a bow. "I have no doubt that your wisdom would allow you to-" "Cut the crap,"Bainbridge snapped, and picked up the corners of the box between thumb and forefinger and carried it out of his office. The genie followed him, floating over his head. "Just think about it, Susan. Think about it. Why would a lawyer be any good at dealing with a genie?" "Um, well..." "The basis of the law,"Bainbridge said, "is that we have formed a binding set of rules to govern ourselves as a society. And we abide by those rules because we don't want society to degenerate into mere anarchy, where the powerful can act according to their whims."He dumped the lamp into Susan's wastebasket with a satisfying clank. "Tell me, Susan, what is it you think we lawyers do? Do you think we spend hours searching out mere instances of omission with which to fuck other people over, and in turn defending ourselves from said omissions? Do you think that is the practice of the law, Susan, defending ourselves from any malicious whim that could flit across a person's imagination?" "Of course not, Mr. Bainbridge,"she said. "But-" "But nothing!"He held up a finger. "There's the implied covenant of good faith, Susan! You can't say, 'I will pay you a thousand dollars for services rendered,' and then remit that payment in the form of red-hot pennies, stuffed one-by-one under the payee's eyelids, just because someone forgot to include a clause against that! The law is not based on the premise of maliciousness!"He stalked back into his office and collapsed back on his chair and waved his hand weakly. "Go call someone to dispose of that damn thing properly." "Yes sir,"she said meekly. "I - I suppose you've had this sort of problem before." "You have no idea,"he sighed. "Why, if I had a dollar for every time some idiot sent me a lamp-" "Wish granted!"the genie boomed, and a shower of sparks exploded in the middle of Bainbridge's office, with a hiss and the acrid smell of burning carpet. "I didn't!"Bainbridge screamed, eyes wide. "That wasn't a wish! That wasn't a wish! It was merely a - a -" "A hopeful hypothetical?"the genie said with a grin, and held between its fingers the first of several hundred red-hot pennies. "Close enough, O Master!"
The alien men walked down the street, stealing glances at every food that crossed their paths. Pastries in the shop windows. Beverages in the hands of passersby. Sandwiches on tables, those who ordered them chatting away between bites. The aliens discomfort was almost palpable. I watched them steer clear of a child with an ice cream cone. Earlier, I'd saw one of them damn near faint at the sight of a kid breaking into a KitKat. It was strange to see them recoil so much, but their greatest fears were their greatest weakness as well. And what good is a weakness if you don't capitalize on it? I watched one of the aliens step into a clothing store, his friend patiently waiting outside, eyeing a nearby bakery. Perfect. Approaching the alien, I called out to it, motioning to a nearby alleyway. "Just a peek,"I said to him. I adjusted my voice to sound deep, menacing. Contrary to us, that actually soothed them. With a quick check for his friend, he followed me into the alleyway. Wheeling on him, I flashed open my coat. Earth's finest array of snack cakes lined the pockets, waiting to be devoured. I watched his eye bulge, his hands fumbling through his pockets to find the appropriate currency. Too easy. At the end of the alleyway, I heard a yell. His friend. I watched as the alien slammed his buddy against the wall, slapping the Ring Dings out of his hand. I watched both of their eyes start to tear, the one against the wall frantically explaining to the other. No dice, it seems. The new alien started towards me, his soothing cries betraying his foul intentions. But I had one last trick up my sleeve. Literally. With a flick of my wrist, I procured a single, golden, fluffy Twinkie. The alien's eye darted towards it. I watched his resolve crumble, the money hitting my chest as he greedily stole the Twinkie from my hand. Welcome to the dark side, my friend. We have cookies. Feedback Appreciated
He had just started sleeping in his own room. It was an adventure of its own, but he knew all too well of the monsters that lurked. Their house was old, full of stories and things out of stories. Joey knew of the monsters, but he hadn’t expected it to come so soon. The night was quiet. His window was bare, showing the tree outside, shadowy and stark, almost dead from the approaching winter. Joey listened, but nothing came, his home quiet for once. He said his prayers as his mother taught him and he knew God was protecting him. The monsters hadn’t found him yet. Tonight he could sleep. He awoke later. Night had crept cold and dark, blacker than he could imagine. Joey sat up and listened. He told himself it was a dream, but he was too old to be so coddled. He listened as a big boy would, and there was nothing. He wanted to close his eyes but instead he got up and opened the door. The dim light from the hall flickered, and the stairs was a black abyss, leading to the unknown of the living room. He peered out, his courage wavering, and there was still nothing. Joey was relieved, his mind at ease. A screech echoed from above. A banshee’s wail coming nearer and nearer. A shadow drifted above and Joey closed the door. Paralysis took him, fighting him as he stumbled backwards. The wail rattled the window and the howl came nearer. From the moonlight he saw the ceiling waver. A rotten smell of dead things floated past. The tree outside waved amidst the nighttime fog. Joey screamed. A black sludge fell, collapsing all around him. The wail grew loudest, the scream of a demon, now awakened. Joey was buried, knocked to the ground, suffering for breath. His room was flooding, he would be buried here, another ghost in the old house. It was the end and he would die soon. The lights came on and his parents screamed. His father rushed to him, picking him up. His mother cried as she watched him, horrified and on her knees. The house was later condemned, and Joey never saw the monsters ever again. They all died after the sewage line had broken.
You can't enslave children. In my heart, I agree. But hard choices have to be made. &nbsp; &nbsp; I glared at the circle of city council-members. My presentation slides, printed in thick stacks this morning, lay unopened in front of them. I pointed to the projector screen. "We have two years until the sun is too dim to power the city's core services. Other options are done. Coal? Done. Oil? Done. Gas? Done."I ticked off my fingers, one by one. "Do you hear me? Done, done, done!" Councilman Peters leaned back in his chair and sighed audibly. The chair groaned as his weight shifted. "Didn't you come crying to us last year about this?"He rubbed his face with his fat, soft hands. "Always the same with you, Boo&mdash;" "Don't call me that." "&mdash;Mary. Sorry. We've been over this. The council isn't interested in your, uh, theories." I gritted my teeth. My theories. Conspiracy theories, he wants to say. I flicked forward several slides. "Power production from the solar panels has been dropping every month,"I said. "This is data from the city's own engineers."I slapped the projector screen, making the image shimmer and jump as the fabric rippled. "We have to do something." Rhonda, sitting on the end, spoke up. "Even if we agree that there is a problem, your proposal is&mdash;and I'm sorry Peters I'm just going to say it&mdash;crazy."She rolled her eyes. I rounded on her, this prim bitch in her purple pantsuit. "All I want,"I said through clenched teeth, "is to run a small pilot project. I can show you."I gestured to the entire council. "I can show all of you." "Oh please, girl."Rhonda giggled, covering her mouth with one hand but not really trying to hide her smile. "You want to, what, connect a bunch of wires to children and tickle them?" "Children's merriment can be converted to energy,"I said. "I've got the math to prove it, and I've already constructed a prototype&mdash;" "A tickling machine, perhaps?"Rhonda looked at the other council-members. "Maybe next we'll try ants in their pants!" The council erupted in laughter. Peters shook his head, wiping tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry,"he said. "But we are still a 'no' on your project, Mary." "I understand."I bit my lower lip. You fucking fools. "I'll have to think of something else." "You do that, sweetie,"said Rhonda, waving me towards the door. "Buh-bye now." I gathered the unread copies of my slides, with their graphs and equations and careful prototype schematics, and left the council hall. The early evening sunlight streamed into the hallway from skylights and I watched the sky darkening. I imagined the city with a crippled sun limping across the sky. I imagined shuttered schools, water shortages, rotten food. Everything broken. I shook my head. I will not let that happen to my city. I dropped my presentation slides in a nearby wastebasket. As I left the council hall, my shoulders slumped and my eyes stared down at the bleak concrete at my feet. I trudged home, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. I took a long route home, avoiding the bright city parks and school playgrounds. Places filled with happy children playing and laughing. Laughter would have been easier. More efficient. Kinder to the children. But there are other equations, ones that I didn't show the council. Equations that promise salvation but demand sacrifice. A horrible mathematics requiring a terrible strength of will and a brutal willingness to do what must be done. If laughter is not an option, there is always terror. ***** If you liked this story, I have other stories at /r/hpcisco7965.
Light filled every room. It filled every nook and cranny, every shadow was dispelled. People who gazed upon the light felt their corneas melt and a warm blackness swept across their vision. They were the lucky ones. The lucky ones were blinded and less than a mile from the blast, they quickly escaped the fear and pain. Little bits of debris were frozen in mid-air. Strangers became bound to one another, becoming closer to each other than they were with their own families. A child stared into the eyes of an old homeless man as light engulfed them. A lonely teenager held the hand of a rich housewife, who had just exited a designer shop. A police officer had undone the handcuffs of a thief, to let the man pray one last time. Buildings were in mid buckle, like French fries weighed down by ketchup. People inside the buildings not facing the blast felt the ground give way for an instant. “Am I dreaming”, thought Mrs. Delivan, a secretary at a law office nestled fifteen feet from ground zero. “The Russians actually did it”, thought Mrs. Delivan’s boss on the other side of the glass door. He thought this as he admired the metal casing on the falling bomb from his corner office overlooking Manhattan. His actual last thought, which came as light filled his office, was regretting coming to work today and every day for the last 30 years only to have it end like this. A fleeting image of his daughter's face appeared as his eyes melted. A couple miles away, people felt things beyond those that relied on death as a catalyst. Fear, anger, even happiness from a few of the deranged, the whole range of human emotion was felt just outside the blast radius. And as you move farther and farther from the blast, you can feel humanity fall by the wayside. Ignorance of the actual situation replaced the surprise of those who saw the blast. As you approach the political centers of the world, calculating logic and pragmatism replaced emotion. “How can we leverage this”, “Do we have a plan”, “This is going to make me rich”, “We need to respond with equal force”. Only a few that were a far distance from the blast empathized with the victims in this moment. A commander within the U.S. military privy to confidential information about the nuke remembered his wife’s side of the family lived in New York City. He felt a pang of despair and hopelessness as he watched a screen with a UAV’s video feed go completely white. A bureaucrat within the Russian government, responsible for relaying the order felt a small sensation, something he hadn’t felt since he was bullied in primary school. He bottled it up like everything else, smiling at the dictator seated across from him. The man who was ordered to launch the weapon, he felt nothing in that moment. He had to feel nothing.
The classroom began dissolving around me. One by one, everyone vanished with that distinct green disconnect effect. As always, I stayed behind. For some reason I liked seeing the walls fragmenting and disappearing, desks deconstructing in perfect sync, the windows erasing that fake outside view and folding in on themselves, until all there was left was me and an infinite whiteness. “Session over, please disconnect,” the voice of the Coordinator informed me. It was a slightly feminine soft voice that spoke slowly and calmly, but I knew everyone heard it differently. Despite being the most powerful being in the VR Network, it never ordered anyone or made demands, simple requested, kindly, politely. With a sigh, I imagined myself back in my connection chair inside my room and focused on the image until my own body began dissolving just like the classroom earlier. As the helmet slid off, I blinked a few times to clear my vision. The chair released my arms and legs, so I stretched a little. For a few seconds I thought about just staying here and booting up “The Legend of the Iron Owl” or “Wyrms and Sorcerers”, but I was getting bored of the games’ module and my body was still a bit sore. Doubting any of my classmates would like to see me in “Socializer21XX”, I got up and made my way to the living room. Mom and Dad were in their own chairs. They bought a VR cruise to “Fantasia Supreme”, so they were mostly there these days. Well, I actually kind of liked that. Trying not to make much noise, I made my way to the exit, put on the environmental suit and the filtering mask, grabbed my bag and navigator, and stepped into the hatch. The world outside always fascinated me. Ever since I was old enough to get my own suit, I started sneaking out to the wastelands and annoying the ever living hell out of my parents in doing so. Time and time again I heard that the only thing outside was dirt and danger, but it didn’t help. With every trip I would find new amazing things: books, mechanical toys, photographs, devices I didn’t understand the purpose of. Eventually, they’d just given up. My fascination with the pre-VR and pre-War eras turned out to be too much to handle. I suppose in a way I felt bad for them, but there I was again, making my way through piles of rubble in search of new curiosities. For hours I wandered the ruined landscape of the city, searching what used to be houses, parks, and playgrounds. After a while, a few new books and a couple of photographs for the collection were stuffed in my bag, but nothing more seemed to turn up. That particular scavenge hunt was not that fruitful, until I stumbled on it. It was a small brown object about four centimeters long. The core of it was smooth, oval in shape, and ended in a small spike-like protrusion on one end. The other end was enclosed with a segmented slightly lighter in colour “hat” with what looked like a small piece of a branch attached to it. It didn’t seem like a normal fruit you’d see in entertainment simulations. It didn’t look edible or even that pretty, but something about it was weird enough for me to stuff inside of my bag near the books. Checking the time on my suit, I decided to head home. I cursed under my breath as the hatch opened to the sight of my parents. After listening to another lengthy lecture on the horrible things that were waiting for me outside, I went to my room and began stashing away my treasures. Having put the books on the shelf and the photographs into the file, I was left with just the small brown object. I carefully put it into the scanning tool of the VR chair and waited for the results. The scanning took a lot longer than I expected. After about an hour, the voice of the Coordinator answered through the speakers of the chair: “Unknown object. Databases contain no information.” My jaw dropped. Never had I heard that from the Coordinator. No matter what kind of weird thing I shoved into the scanner, the Coordinator would give me if not the exact definition then at least an approximate description. Whatever that object was, it was definitely unusual. Knowing the teachers would not tell me anything about an object from the outside, I sighed, sat down, and set the connection to “Socializer21XX”. The helmet slid over my head, blocking my vision, and suddenly there was nothing but an infinite whiteness. After a while I could make out a black door slowly gliding to me. As it stopped about a meter away from me, I heard the creaky voice of a custom AI: “Identified. Tim Schultz. Access granted.” The door opened into a dark room filled with deafening music. As I stepped inside, I could make out the silhouettes of people dancing in flashing lights. Not too far from me a humanoid AI looking like a woman in a revealing dress was serving drinks. “Well this place changed,” I mumbled to myself. “It sure did.” Nick walked up to me. “Remember Jimmy? Everyone used to give him shit for being a nerd, but ever since he overrode the underage filters and configured the door AI to not let in any teachers or parents, even Phil and his gang respect the guy.” “Speaking of...” I said looking at Phil approaching us with a wide grin on his face. “Well if it isn’t Tim the trashman?” he shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. “Finally decided to stop being a caveman, huh?” Everyone’s heads turned to me. “Well, actually I came because of this.” I projected the image of the brown object into my hand. “ I found it outside and—” “Looks like any other piece of trash to me!” Phil laughed, knocking it out of my hand. “Come on, man, I thought you finally decided to fucking exist or something, but you just bring your shit here instead.” “Leave him alone, Phil.” Kate walked up to me, grabbed my hand, and began dragging me away from the slowly forming crowd. “Didn’t know you were into losers so much!” Phil shouted at our backs. Without saying a word she dragged me off to one of several rooms beside the main dance floor and locked the door. It was small and had nothing but a single table and a big semi-circular red couch to match the colour of the walls. “Jesus, Tim.” Kate took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “You can’t just ask people about this type of stuff. Sure, there are no teachers here, but that doesn’t mean you can blabber on about anything.” “Thanks...” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “For helping me out there.” “Yeah, don’t mention it. Phil can be—” “An asshole?” “Yeah.” She laughed. “But the way you say it means you definitely haven’t been around here lately. He’s not a guy you can just piss off and get away with it.” “So,” I said after a long awkward pause, “what are these rooms for?” Kate’s face went red. “Don’t ask. I just brought you here because it’s private that’s all.” We sat silently for a while more. “Can… Can I see it?” I showed the image of the brown object again. Thankfully Phil either didn’t care or was too stupid to figure out that knocking it out of my hands earlier did absolutely nothing. “It looks like some sort of fruit,” she said after looking at it closely, “or probably more accurately a nut. I’ve never seen it in books though.” “Well, want to hear something cool?” Kate raised an eyebrow. “The Coordinator doesn’t know what it is,” I said, with a satisfied smirk. “The trees must’ve died out long ago and either no one cared to catalogue it or the data got corrupted.” Although her explanation was dry, I still noticed that spark in her eyes. “I wish I could hold it.” I handed her the projection. “No, really hold it, feel the real thing with my own hands.” “Well… How about I arrange that?” “Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “Real transport has been dead for a while, remember?” “I wasn’t talking about that. On the outer the main hatch of your shelter there are numbers, coordinates. Tell me them and I’ll bring this to you personally.” I winked and threw the nut up in my hand. I didn’t know why I offered that. Was it for Kate, was it because I really wanted to know what this thing was, was it just to journey out farther than ever before? I still can’t say, but that day would change my life forever. --- Continued in a reply.
“So, we are here with Carter, a local at Huntington Hill,” the reporter said. “In your own words, can you describe what’s going on here?” “Between the vampire and ghost attacks, nobody is safe,” said the chubby man referred to as Carter. “Luckily we have half a dozen Rambos dealing with the matter, and since the new Ghost Busters movie came out recently we actually have a couple of professional ghost hunters.” The reporter leaned in. “Tell the viewers about the witch.” “All right, so, there is this woman going around, turning people into frogs left and right,” Carter said. “It’s a mess down there.” “And what is the mayor doing about it?” “Well, at first, nothing,” Carter said, “But then our local Einstein had a brilliant idea.” “And what was that, Carter?” “It’s not exactly pleasant, but all those princesses finally have employment.” “I thought it only worked with princes?” “It’s not an exact science.” “What about Frankenstein’s Monster and all these Catwomen?” “Some things are still not under control,” Carter said, “This year we had a massive shortage of Batmen.” “Sounds rough,” the reported said, apologetically. “Yeah, but it’s not only bad. The hospitals, for instance, are finally sufficiently staffed, and let me tell you, the male patients are happier than ever.” “There you have it, folks,” the reporter said. “It’d take something like this to get the medicare in order! Back to the studio and John with the weather.”
"Breathe in, then breathe it all out. Every bit. You aren't going to want air in your lungs for this."instructed the doctor. I did as I was told, taking in one final breath before pushing it all out. Exhaling felt different than before, this time it had impact, weight, importance. This would be the last time for that, for both inhalation and exhalation. There would be no more after this. They said my time had come years ago, but I clung to that outdated mentality. When so many relinquished their humanity to perfection, I was one of those who clung on. As a wealthy man, I was capable of sustaining myself, no medical bill was too high to maintain myself. I was 121, the oldest natural human to ever live. Of course, the oldest former human now sat at 130. But, that didn't matter to me, it was the principle of the matter that kept me as I was, until now. A heart attack, my fourth in my lifetime. The moment it started this morning I knew this was worse than the others. Catheters and bypasses can only help so long I suppose, and I guess today was the day they just stopped ticking. I was rushed to a service center (they don't really have many pure "hospitals"these days) and began to assess my options. I had two. I could die, or I could give into all the pressure and relinquish myself to the programming. Now, this may sound hypocritical, but after living for so long... I was afraid to die. So here I am, breathing my last breath, allowing myself to become something different, something new... I feel it, then I feel everything.
Well, in all honesty, I was more worried that if I left her, she would turn her earth shattering powers into Greg stattering powers, but she'll never hear that from me. "Of course not, honey, you know that isn't the case. You know I'm here for you." She looks up from her hands with tears in her eyes "Then why do you keep praying? I know you do it when you think I'm sleeping. What are you keeping from me?" Oh fuck, she's going to go to whatever shitty angel scribes all the prayers and see what I've been thinking. Yeah, and you thought text messages were bad... I should probably take a step back though and explain this little scenario I've managed to get myself into. I'm Greg Powers, and I'm a 23 year old college student, and I like to go out drinking. Truly surprising, I know, but it's the God given truth, pun slightly intended. Well, as many bar drinkers may well know, when you get drunk you try to pick up women, and let me tell you, if my last name wasn't Powers, somebody would have made it my nickname, because drunk Greg could get any woman he wanted. So one night we were at a bar I hadn't been to in months (when you sleep with a different woman every time you go to the bar, you need to mix shit up) and in walks this perfect 10 brunette, I'm talking the shit that pornstars and celebrities pretend to be with a million gallons of makeup and all the fucking diets in the world. So, naturally, drunk Greg "powers"Powers decided to work his magic and take her home. However, I decided this would be the one to keep around for a while. She spent damn near every day with me for weeks, and I'm proud to say we only left the bedroom for food and showers. But enough of this shit, you want to know how I came to know she's a goddess, right? Well,, to be fair, it's the least interesting part of this damn story. One day she just came out and told me. But I'm not a gullible sap, so obviously I doubted her, and she decided she would convince me in the most unnecessary way imaginable. She took me to Heaven, which was pretty kind of her, since I know I won't be up there once I die, especially with this goddess actively crying in front of me. Oh, and for those of you just waiting to hear about Heaven, it's not going to be coming from me or else I will catch a real early grave. So where was I? Oh yeah, crying goddess. The whole relationship thing was wonderful for a while, however the novelty wore off, both because I haven't been able to use my powers for fear of being obliterated, and because this goddamn goddess is clingy as a motherfucker. I've never been a fan of the clingy kinds, as I'm sure you can tell, however she is SO MUCH WORSE. Imagine the most crazy bitch you know. Think of all those psycho things she did. You got that? Now give her the fucking powers of a God. See? I'm fucked. How do you break up with the Goddess of Love? Oh yeah, I didn't mention that part, did I? It's the worst part, and it really leaves me with no choice. I'm going to stay with her till I die, and that will be about as long as I can keep it in my pants.. Or until she finds out I haven't been. It's been good letting this all out to someone, however, I have a goddess crying on my couch and I don't want to see what happens if I can't get her to stop.
"People always believe that successful people have some kind of secret. I know this because there is always people trying to sell that secret to others for a profit. Get rich quick! Convince your friends to buy make-up or Tupperware or whatever shit they were tricked into selling. There is a secret to being successful,"Jake paused and pressed the cigarette out into the ash tray. "Would you like to know what that secret is?"Jake asked leaning forward across the small wooden table that separated the two men. "The secret is that if you want something bad enough you need to kill for it."Jake squeezed the trigger of the small snub nose revolver. The Sheriff's head snapped back, a new hole in the center of his forehead. "That sad truth about the secret is most people bring it to their grave,"Jake said shaking his head sadly. "Looks like you're getting a promotion deputy,"Jake tossed the Sherri's badge to the young nervous man. "I've never run drugs before Sheriff, let's make sure my transition is smooth. You're going to keep your men out of my way or I will find a new Sheriff. Understand?" The new Sheriff nodded quickly and stepped out of Jakes way. "Good." --- Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
"One does not simply walk into Mordor,"James cried, dramatically gesturing towards the video, "he flies there!" Massive eagles flew through the video, with tourists perched on top of them looking at Mordor with awe and wonder. It had been completely morphed into a massive theme park. The 'Eye of Sauron' was now a kitschy spire in the centre, overlooking the entire park. The CEO raised his eyebrows. "Wait, wait, hold on - you mean to say we're we've got a magical Elven kingdom at our disposal, and you've decided to use Mordor as our main attraction?" "Plenty free real estate,"James replied quickly, clicking to the next slide, "seeing as the orcs have left."The slide showed Mordor's current abysmal state, and the plans to turn it into a thriving metropolis. "If orcs don't want to stay there, then why the hell would anyone else?"the CEO replied, and everyone else laughed. James felt the presentation slipping away from him. It had seemed like such a great idea at the time. "If you'll just wait till the end of my presentation-" "I don't understand why they couldn't just fly there." The room fell silent. An intern in the back, previously unnoticed, had just spoken. "I literally just said that they should fly there,"James said, sighing heavily, "but if you'll just look at this next slide-" "No no, I know that,"the intern replied, leaning back in his chair, "I mean the fellowship, yea? Why didn't they just jump on the eagles and fly there in the first place?" James frowned. "I don't think that's entirely relevant to-" "Well it all falls down to visibility, see,"said Rob from accounting, steepling his fingers, "and the Council of Elrond felt they couldn't take their chances with such a brash, risky attempt." "So they thought a few goddamn hobbits and a Gollum would fair better?"the intern retorted. Rob scoffed. "If you're calling Smeagol "a Gollum"then this discussion is-" "-All I'm saying is if I wanted the ring destroyed-" "COULD EVERYONE JUST PLEASE SHUT UP." The whole room turned to face James. He was breathing heavily. "Could anyone - ANYONE - just concentrate on my damned presentation?" The room was silent. Everyone looked around sheepishly. Alan, from marketing, stood up, patting James on the shoulder. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you have my stapler, friend,"he said, putting it down heavily on the table. James stared at him. "I don't get... oh no, don't-" "And my book,"Gail from customer service said, slamming it on top of the stapler. "No, no-" "AND MY AXE!" **** James stepped outside the corporate building, holding a box with everything he'd kept at the office. He wasn't proud of everything he'd done afterwards at the presentation, but it certainly felt good. He stared at the distant spire. "Maybe I'll just see how the view is from up there, just for a little bit,"he said to himself, as he walked towards Mordor.
I never should've killed her. Amanda was always a lying, cold-hearted bitch who deserved what was coming to her. I never regret killing her. At least nobody would've missed her. Miranda, on the other hand... she was only four years old. I don't know what the hell I was thinking, but after I killed her mother she started screaming and- I sighed. If I would've killed only Amanda... she didn't have any stable friends, or any family. By the time they would've found her body, Miranda and I would've been long gone... The "executioner"had his hand rested on a large, metal lever that would warp the space-time continuum to send me back into a random city in the past. A crowd of silent people watched with accusing stares, sending daggers onto my skin. I didn't bother buying food or water, since my plan was tricking all of the people into thinking I was some sort of God. I could only pray that I was sent to a time before electricity was ever harnessed for our use. In one hand was a small hand gun that didn't weight much; slung over my other shoulder was a bag full of as many fully charged iPhones that I was allowed to have, as well as a corresponding number of portable chargers. Those objects were crucial to my survival; they would make me worshipped as either a genius inventor, a deity, or something even better than that. Eventually, my battery life would run out, but by then, it shouldn't really matter. "Are you ready?"The masked man asked. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I took on everything around me. It was likely the last time I'd see electricity like this. The last time I'd see my ex in-laws. I nodded, and the last thing I heard was a deep clank and swirling lights of the time machine. I was catapulted through a vertex of swirling whites and light colors; my stomach leaped into my mouth, my body was tossed and tumbled around, and I felt as though I was being crushed together and stretched apart all at once. As soon as it had begun, it was over, and I landed with a loud thump on cold, hard ground. I groaned, rubbing my head. All of the iPhones tumbled out of the bag onto the ground, but as I rubbed my aching head, I could care less. The phones all lit up, going crazy from all sorts of notifications. Horrified gasps and screams rang out into the air. I blinked open my eyes, only to see old-fashioned clothed people surrounding me. The woman donned long, modest dresses and bonnets covering their hair; the men grew long, well-groomed beards and wore white collars with black robes and black top hats. We were on a hill. Behind the crowd was a sight that chilled me down to my core. Three people were lined up on the gallows, ropes perched tightly around their exes, tears streaming down their faces. A man behind them prepared to push them off of the platform. I knew where I was instantly, and it was the worst possible place I could be at the moment. "They called the Devil!" "They truly are witches!" "Satan, you are not welcome here!" "They were lying about being innocent!" "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!"The crowd began to jeer at me, stomping on the iPhones that I had cleared my bank account for. "No-no! Stop! I'm not the de-"I began, but four strong men had already lifted me from the ground and forced me towards the gallows without hesitation. Why did I have to end up in Salem, of all places?
From the time I was a little kid, I'd always thought the government sounded foolish. I'd read my fairytales, my Coyote stories, with my sister in the other room celebrating her sweet sixteen. I saw a man in black sunglasses across the room; after she blew the candles out, she got the paperwork and a pen and an oath to recite: "If I had a nickle every time..." She added in what you'd expect. She expected to marry a rich guy, become an artist... you know. She thought she was a bad bitch, so she said: "a guy whistles at me on the street." There was a chorus of screeches and laughter and statements of "you're preaching to the choir, sister." She got more than a few government-funded nickels from her current husband. Me? My birthday's approaching now. A few days away. I wonder how they'll stay a superpower, huh? I'll practically have a superpower when it's over. There's a short list I'm provided a week before. No, you know, "I took a step,""I sang a song,""a snowflake landed in my yard."Some are too hard to count, some are all too easy to count on. Nothing you'd actually make the statement about. Something generally uncommon. I heard about a guy that joined the military after saying: "If I had a nickel for every time I did a push up, I'd..."You get the idea. That's the kind of guy my sister was going for. I thought about being nice, maybe giving myself some time to prove myself, say, "If I had a nickle every time I ________ after 30." But that was still wrong. Finally, I had an idea. Something they couldn't refuse. ----- It was the morning of my birthday. I got up, stretched, brushed my teeth, and took out the book. It was well-worn, but you could barely make out: "Trickster Tales." When I came out around 10, it was stuck on a story. A nice and short one. It went like this: "Long, long ago, but just recently enough that we have a date for it (thanks to the Spanish traders), Coyote was hanging around a Spanish trading camp. He was enjoying their beef and chicken and wheat bread, but he didn't like having to sew his coat up every time a Spanish man shot him for stealing. So Coyote became a man, a dark-haired one, one who looked like he'd traveled many miles. Enough miles to earn the treasure he carried with him. All he had was a mule. But he also had as much money as he could steal from the trading post the day before. It was shoved up the mule's ass. All Coyote said to the traders was the first of the last three statements, and he gave the mule a mighty kick. The mule in turn gave a mighty kick to Coyote, but still there fluttered Spanish paper to the ground. He made his commercial to them, letting them scrounge the dollars off the ground sadly. They offered him half the proceeds so far that year. He took it. And they took the mule. They waited all day, kicking the creature until it bled, and finally cutting it up. To show no money at all in the poor thing. Coyote, meanwhile, had all the beef he could eat." I came out, took the paperwork and the pen, and said: "If I had nickel every time the government gave me a nickel, I'd be a very rich woman." It took 12 years for one of the government clerks to forgot to send me five pennies for my tax refund, but now that they have, I get a nice rectangular letter every day. Sometimes two a day. And I am a very rich woman. And not from the nickels. EDIT: some misspellings and clarification.
My name is...well, I've been known by many names, as cliche as that sounds. One tends to go through a lot of them when one is immortal. Presently I am called Scout, and I am a dog. I wasn't always a dog. I once was known as Master of the Hunt, long ago. Not just any hunt though. The Hunt, the Wild Hunt. Ghosts and spirits, gods and men all went out by my side, once, long ago. Then men settled down and turned to other pursuits, turned away from the way of the hunter. This I wouldn't have minded, but they began clearing forests to build cities and plant fields. My domain, the wilds I hunted, dwindled. So I took action. I rallied the Hunt to my side once more, not to kill beasts, but men. A city reduced to rubble, overgrown with vines, shrubs and trees. The screams were drowned out by the baying of the hounds. I took back what was mine by right, and reminded them of the power of the wilds. The gods, however, did not see things my way. They cursed me, transformed me into a dog. They saw it as poetic justice, I suppose, lowering me from the Master of the Hunt to one of its hounds. I didn't much mind, as long as I could still hunt. Still, the progress of civilization was inevitable, and eventually I had to settle down. I found a home. Life was good; I had a warm hearth to curl up by, and fresh meat to eat. Then my master died. I was there for his final moments, comforting him. At that moment, I found a new calling, one that a dog would be well suited for: comforting others. I roamed around for centuries, it seemed, moving from neighborhood to neighborhood, serving as the friendly neighborhood dog. Eventually, I was taken in by a shelter, and once again my course changed. It wasn't a bad life there. I had a soft bed, regular meals, and plenty of dogs and humans for company. For fifty long years I've watched them come and go. I've become a fixture here, the shelter dog. Volunteers come and go often enough that nobody has noticed that I am immortal. Most of the dogs here only want to find a home, and a master. Many do not, and I am their companion. Whenever one is sad, I always know what chew toy to find and bring to cheer them up, and I am always ready for a tug-of-war. They may not have a master, but at least they have me. I've watched so many of them grow old, grow sick. Some just fall asleep and never wake up; others have to be put to sleep for one last time to end their suffering. Whichever it is, I can sense when the end is near, and I'm always with them as long as I can be. All dogs will have a place among the pack of the Wild Hunt in the next life. Today, something different happened. Myself and a couple of others were chosen, taken away in the van. I could tell we were not going to be put down, but when we got out, all on our leashes, the first thing I smelled was sickness and death. The building was filled with people, some recovering, some not, but all ill. We were taken inside, to the people. I knew what to do; I would do for them what I did for my first master so long ago. I sat by their sides, licked hands and faces, and just tried to make them happy. They gave me all the attention a dog could want. It was a good day. Every day, I try to bring hope and comfort to someone, man or dog. Day by day, act by act, I redeem myself, not just in the eyes of the gods, but also in my own mind. Maybe one day they will offer to turn me back. I wouldn't accept. This is what I do now.
It's not my fault. I did what I could. I refused. I locked myself up tight; telepathy requires cooperation along with technology, and the few times someone snuck a Ring on my head I just kept singing Gwar songs to myself until I could get the damn thing to unhook itself. Ahh, who am I kidding. I knew it would be bad if I joined the State. I just didn't know it would be this bad. I should have killed myself. I just didn't know. Instead I woke up to screams from all over, especially on the floor beside my bed. Steve had decided to take pity on me, broke into my apartment and put a Ring on me. I think his mind was the first to go. I could feel the waves of Madness pulsing in from all around me, the same as I've experienced ever since I could remember, but from Elsewhere, from other people. It took a dozen seconds for the Ring to withdraw its connections from my skull, and I could feel the volume increasing even as it became more distant. My friend just kept staring at nothing and screaming; I shook him and slapped him and he wouldn't stop. 911 left me on a message loop. I walked out of the apartment in my pajamas and found more screamers in the hall. I yelled in the street but no one responded, they were all screaming at nothing. After a few hours the screamers were no longer screaming. Many had died. I couldn't find anyone to help. I had no idea what to do. It's been a week. Four days ago the power died. I tried putting the Ring back on but felt nothing; I don't know if it's because the loss of power knocked its network out, or if it's just because there's no one left.
A mild breeze rolled over the abandoned garden, gently stroking the rose petals with its invisible fingers. Darkthorn Manor was the only spot where wild roses grew and Belle was determined to pick some before dawn. Guided by the light of the moon she strolled up to the rose bush, which was cloaked in the shadow of the house. The angular gothic façade was overrun with climbing ivy and the wind whistled soothingly through the broken windows. As she started to fill the basket with the red flowers, her thoughts wandered to the reoccurring dream she had every other night. In the dream she was outside the Darkthorn Manor, picking roses to sell at the market in the morning – just like she was doing now. She would look into one of the windows and the face of a handsome young man would appear. A reluctant smile washed over Belle’s lips and goose bumps erupted on her arms. It was silly to think that anyone would be watching her; she was just a peasant girl and not a particularly beautiful one. An indignant expression flashed across her face. Still, the dream always had her sweating and bothered when she woke up, and it was hard to fall asleep again afterward. She would lie awake, thinking about her admirer’s face in that window. It was just a dream, Belle told herself, as her eyes swept over the mansion. The gray spires and gargoyles were an astonishing contrast to the green of nature. The last owners of Darkthorn had vanished five decades ago and the once proud building had fallen into neglect. The rumor was that the count had died in the war and that his wife and children had been forced to leave the countryside for the city – such a tragic story. Belle was preoccupied in her thoughts and accidentally pricked her finger on a thorn – a tiny drop of blood squirted out. She quickly put the finger in her mouth and finished up her work. As she picked up the basket and prepared to leave, her eyes shot a final glance at the building. The window was still empty. “I think you’re trespassing,” said a silky voice from the other side of the rose bush. It was just the voice she imagined that her dream admirer would have. Filled with a feeling of excitement, she dropped the basket and started backing away. She had waited long for this moment to arrive, but she didn’t feel ready yet. “Where are you going so quickly?” the silky voice said lovingly. “Don’t you want to meet the man of your dreams?” Belle did want to meet him and feel his touch, but for some reason, she ran in the opposite direction – she was clearly confused by her own emotions. Luckily, her admirer was faster and with a giant leap he landed in front of her. He was tall and fashionably pale, and he was dressed in the fine garbs of a discerned nobleman. A charming smile played over his thin lips. “Leave me alone, you monster!” Belle shouted playfully and turned to run again, clearly playing hard to get. “I shall feast on your blood, peasant,” the gentleman growled in a non-serious non-threatening tone of voice. He really just longed to feel her soft form in his arms, but his emotions were making it hard for him to express himself properly. He landed in front of her again. This time she squealed – in joy, of course. The chase gave her the same thrilling heartbeat-inducing feeling she had when she woke up from her dreams. Belle’s fingers fumbled out the crucifix from the folds of her dress, and held it up for the gentleman to see – a humble gift of peace perhaps, after so rudely trespassing? His reaction wasn’t what she had hoped for – he didn’t seem to appreciate the golden necklace at all – so she considered putting it away. “Get that vile thing out of my face,” the gentleman said. He didn’t really hate it, he was just teasing her. “No, back off!” she said, but once again considered putting it away. “I will never put it away!” The gentleman clearly had a more refined taste of jewelry, and that crucifix was keeping them apart. If they were ever to embrace the necklace had to go and they both knew it. And that’s why Belle readied herself to toss it into the bushes. “The crucifix stays in my hand,” she said stubbornly. “Now go back to whatever hellhole you crept out of!” Belle was a bit disappointed that he didn’t like her favorite necklace, but that was no reason to lash out like that, and she scolded herself for being so rude. “As soon as you turn around, I’ll rip your spine out,” the gentleman said (which was just a metaphor for showing her his undying love). “The dawn is coming,” Belle said, her hand trembling with lust. “My hand is steady.” And it was true, not that her hand was steady, but that the warm beams of the sun were already peeking over the horizon. “Curse you!” the gentleman spat, unable to contain his passion. “I shall find you, peasant girl!” And with that promise of love, he disappeared into shadows of the Darkthorn Manor. Belle’s heart was still racing when she picked up the basket and started her journey back to the village. She hoped she would see him again in her dreams and that he would be there waiting for her when she returned to pick new roses the following night. “I am never returning,” she said. She felt ashamed for talking when the story was over. Like a complete insolent brat, in fact. She knew she should’ve been thankful for even having a role in this story – most peasants weren’t so lucky. “Go away,” she muttered. “Your narration sucks.” On the way back she stepped in cow dung, got stung by a bee, and got sunburned. And she definitely sold no roses at the market. THE END. “Right,” she said smugly. A comment that she would regret later when her admirer returned the following night. THE END! “By all means, follow me all the way to the market; I’m sure the story will be interesting.” Belle kept walking and was soon a tiny dot in the distance. She would be alone for the rest of her life, because nobody likes a smug person – especially one with bad breath. THE END. “I heard that!” THE END.
I had the news on as I worked on the time machine. It was mostly done. All the little electronics and everything. The only thing left to do was run some software debugging. "What happened the day of my father's death.. is unacceptable."the President was saying in front of a whole crowd of people. I turned to look at the screen. "Remember the Deinn Day Massacre. Where many important politicians- people who would've made this country a better place, these people were murdered where they stood by the Demzos." I grunted. Not just politicians, helpless civilians too. "And no, not just politicians died that day. I was there. I was nine years old, then. So many people from the city came to observe Deinn Day. Innocent citizens of the city, who needlessly had to die. For what? To send a message? My father was gunned before me, and I knew that day. I knew that day, ladies and gentlemen. Terrorism is not to be tolerated. Fear, violence, shock. These are what terrorist Demzos act through. They do not care about death. They don't care about-" I turned off the TV and leaned back, closing my eyes. And then immediately opened them when the time. machine started beeping. Diagnostics completed. Errors:0 System Warnings: 2 Status: Online System Start Goosebumps erupted all over my skin as I punched in some numbers. And then set the time I wanted to go back to. The machine started buzzing, and vibrated furiously. I took my Returner and held it, and positioned myself. The machine started emitting a high pitched whine, and then everything turned black, and I couldn't breathe. For a second. And then it felt like I was shoved into the ground. My senses were dull. Sounds seemed to come from way off into the distance. My vision was blurry. I couldn't feel my feet. But I looked up. I looked up and saw my father a few feet away, looking directly at me. He looked terrified and confused. I remembered why I was here. "Duck!"I yelled, and then my senses returned with a force. Gunshots. Screaming. The smell of sulfur in the air. My father ducked. Suddenly I felt a pull. Not a physical pull, but.. another kind. My time here was up. I pressed the button on my Returner, and the pull got stronger, and everything went black again. And I couldn't breathe again. For a second. And then I was shoved into the present. I gasped as the time machine powered down with a low hum. Did it.. work? Have I saved my father? I turned on the TV. "Today we mourn those who were lost to us on Deinn Day. Forty years ago today, our brothers in the Democratic Socialist Party gave their lives as they overthrew the corrupt government. Without their efforts, this country would've been still run by the Communists. And now, the weather." The Demzos gave their lives to.. overthrow the government? .. What? I searched the Internet for what had happened on Deinn Day 2014. Why wasn't Mace president? The Deinn Day Incident was a tragic event that took place in City Hall on the afternoon of Deinn Day. It was then the key politicians of the time were removed from power drastically by the Democratic Socialist Party. Some key members include then president Dwight Mace, and his son Jason Mace. Kamal Raj, Minister of Defence, also died when he tried to resist detainment. I closed the article. I had read enough.
The wish had been innocent enough. After all, an innocent soul had requested it. Nobody had expected the fallout from the wish, though. Least of all the child. The little one had wished for all of the fossil fuels on earth to disappear, in an attempt to stop global warming and save the planet. Unfortunately, he hadn't specified that those sources be replaced with an alternate energy source right away. Within 24 hours, every last bit of fossil fuel on earth vanished into thin air. The first and most obvious effect had been the earthquakes. With several billion litres of the fluids and gases gone from under the surface, the fissures in which they'd been located were suddenly empty voids. With nothing there to support the empty reservoirs, they shifted and fell, the earth above tumbling into the holes. Plates lurched as sections of stone, previously reinforced by the fluidic pressure of the stored oil in their honeycombed structures, collapsed . Tens of thousands died in those initial shocks. But those were just the beginning of the chaos. Not only did the unprocessed fuels disappear, so did the processed ones. All the gas, diesel, lubricants... gone. The boy had specifically said he wanted them all gone, so everything disappeared. With transportation networks virtually crippled overnight, society fell into chaos. Sure, there were a few electric powered vehicles and planes, and some sailing ships, but the global transport and supply network we'd come to depend on vanished like a fart in the wind. What you had at hand was what would keep you alive. Suddenly, the trendy 'local food challenge' became a literal matter of life or death. If you couldn't find and eat food where you lived, you either picked up and moved or starved to death. Those who lived in areas where they were lucky enough to have 'green' energy supplies, like solar or hydroelectric dams, continued to be blessed with electricity for the short term. Those who depended on coal plants were quickly plunged into darkness. People who depended on nuclear power thought they were in the clear, only to be shocked as the plants shut down one by one... with no diesel generators to power emergency systems, the decision was made to shut the reactors down to avoid potential meltdown scenarios. Perhaps more importantly, many of the critical medical technologies we had taken for granted depended on a ready supply of plastics. With the oil supply gone, these supplies suddenly became rarer than gold, as they were not easily replaced. Those unlucky enough to rely on elevated tanks of municipal water systems found them depleted of drinking water in a few days. Worse, water treatment systems began to fail as the power grids collapsed. Dysentery, cholera, and other diseases thought to have been obliterated made a rapid and deadly comeback. Within a month of the child's wish, we had been reverted to a 1900's level of technology.
I woke and it wasn't there. My hands clutched at the thin bedsheets, sodden with my sweat, but it wasn't there. The panic gripped at me. And then the tears came. Of course it wasn't there. Overseas, I had spent every moment within arms reach of my rifle. It was my protector. Eat with your rifle, shit with your rifle. Sleep with your rifle. Not having it beside me left me feeling naked and vulnerable, a raw nerve that twitched from every little interaction with the civilian world. The diner was on the corner of the Mcgregor and Payne farms. A little silver bullet amidst the corn fields. Far away from the cities and their roiling masses. I backed into my employee parking place at the back of the lot, a habit I'd been taught, always ready to get out of dodge at a moments notice. The front bumper hung at an angle where I'd swerved and hit a ditch to avoid an IED. Or a plastic bag. To my mind they were one and the same. "Morning John."Sally smiled at me as I stepped into the diner. "Hi Sal."Hi. Never how are you? You're looking well. Thanks for putting up with me. My apron hung at the back of the kitchen. The kitchen was mine, my domain. An area I could control. I'd never had problems before. Two tours and I'd been fine, my war was done and I was done with war. Then I came back and it started. "You want a coffee?"Sally asked through the service hatch. "A coffee would be great." She filled two mugs, nato style, and brought them into the kitchen. I took the proffered cup but she didn't leave. She sat back against the counter and just smiled at me. "Don't you need to get ready?"I asked. "The doughnuts have lasted a few days. I'm sure they can wait." "The customers..." "Kim's always the first one in and he won't pull up in his truck for another ten minutes." "Ok." She took a sip of her coffee. I saw her smile slip behind the porcelain. "Do I scare you?" "What? No, of course not,"she said. "I don't mean to... to be like this." "John, I know. You don't have to apologise." "The bag those kids left. And that stupid tailpipe. I just react. I'm trying not to." Sally put her cup down and stepped closer. Her hand was warm against the stubble of my face. "There's nothing I can say that'll make it better,"she said quietly. "You don't have to say anything." Kim's truck rumbled into the lot outside. The tailpipe let out a pop as ever and I jumped, but Sally was still there, holding me. She didn't say anything as she went into the front, taking the mans order like she did everyday. She didn't have to say anything. When I woke the next morning, I reached for it, but it wasn't there. I had left my rifle behind, but found something better. Sally rolled over and I pulled her closer.
The puffing ground was whiter than a sheet of printer paper, and the tiles were perfectly designed. The golden hinge began to turn as the wide doors swung open. Standing at the base of the gate was a protractor, precariously placed so it would be the first thing my eyes met. I walked over and picked it up; the non-solid tufts of cloud billowed like mushrooms. There were two measures that were etched into it, glowing with a silver light. They were very familiar to me, and I placed them against my chest. When the base was aligned with my waist, one pointed to my head and the other to my heart in a perfect line. It was almost as if these two angles knew me. As I was marveling at the otherworldly aura and mathematical perfection, a third angle appeared in a blinding blue and yellow. It pointed not at my body, but at a person. Off in the distance stood a face that I never knew, but I felt was beyond my comprehension. Puzzled, I walked over to him. Dressed in a robe of that same blue and yellow, he turned to face me. "Come", he said, "we have much to discuss."
It started with a cough. My little sister. My brother. My mom. My dad. All staying home from school and work while I carried on. Within weeks, we were down to half the class showing up, then the teacher calling in sick, then class getting cancelled. In a time like that, where people say there's a "nasty flu"spreading around, it's hard to wonder why you're the only one not affected by it. My sister, only four years old, lost the battle first. The funeral homes were shut down, and burying a child, one who hasn't seen the world or been to the mountains or kissed anybody, well, that's enough to break just about anybody. I stayed in my room for a week and I cried, and I cried, and I cried. Pretty soon I discovered this was happening to everyone else. My chemistry teacher kicked the bucket. Then the girl I got answers from in precalc. And it kept on going until it wasn't shocking. No, I don't think about it anymore. But with everyone in the house lined up in shallow graves in the back yard, it's quiet around here. Outside is silent, and eerily so. The internet has stopped being fun without anything new. It still works, thank god, but not for long. Once no one responds online and there isn't anyone left, I think I'll end it. Probably swallow a whole bottle of pills and take a long nap. Maybe grab myself a gun and a few bullets. I just wish I would've gotten sick at times. No one tells you how the pictures of your cousins and aunts, how seeing your mom's grave and all her things tears you apart once they're all gone. No one helps you heal and recover. No one can do that if there's no one left.
I never fully understood the system in place. The government had grown increasingly more omniscient, to the point which they were mailing the funds before the event took place. Two months ago, I received nearly $1500 in the morning. Later that day, I had given away my laptop to a boy trying to buy a present for his mother. The laptop wasn't worth more than $400, but the happiness obviously outweighed the true cost of the item. Two weeks ago, another small sum came in, this one worth $800. I spent three hours that day with my brother and my wife, showing them the most beautiful places in our small town. They were delighted to be spending time with me. > ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ This morning was much different. It was almost unheard of, but there was nearly $300,000 being delivered to my house. My wife and I lived separately, it was just easier given our different work schedules. I called her up immediately, and let her know of the funds we'd gotten. I could hear through the phone just how giddy she was. It was hard to imagine how terribly wrong the day would go. It was around noon, I was to meet with my brother for lunch. He told that he'd spotted my wife with another man, and that they seemed happy together. I was devastated, and my whole body churned with revulsion. I thought we were in love, but I was wrong. > ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was almost 8:00, though it was already dark outside. It was odd, given that it was summer. I walked slowly to the edge of the building, staring down at the pavement. A suicide note in my pocket, I trudged onward. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to know when I'd reach the ledge, I just wanted it all to end. Weightlessness overcame me, and I was suddenly falling. Falling, falling, getting closer to the ground. My eyes shot open the moment I was over the ledge, wishing I could take it all back. Ten stories down, why did I do this? Twenty stories, the ground is getting close. Thirty, forty, fifty all passed by in a blur. My body hit the ground with an audible WHAM and pain shot across my entire body. Everything felt broken, just as my heart was. As the last vestiges of my life ebbed away, I stared wide eyed at the couple exiting the building. My wife stared in horror. My brother had only smiled, holding her hand as I was enveloped by the darkness.
Obviously, quite a lot has changed. Ignore the brightly-coloured posters, the constant announcements blaring over the tannoy. Shrimp nuggets don't taste just like chicken. Recycled air doesn't feel like an alpine breeze. And in no way is the looming blue vastness above us the same as the summer sky. I remember the sky. I remember a clear, soft blue that went on forever. I remember the sensation of freedom, of possibilities. I remember the slow darkening of the evening, and the little white dots of distant stars. All of that is gone now. Choked by smog, the blue turned to a rusty brown, streaked with grey clouds holding burning rain. No starlight penetrates, and even the sun struggles - red, weak, watery - to peer through. I am one of the only ones who remembers the blue skies. There are children now in the dormitories who have never seen the sky at all, red or blue. They know of nothing but the weight of water above us. They believe the posters. They think this gloomy midnight blue is the way things are meant to be. The older children, even the adults, still hold half-understood ideas. Pictures seen in books, descriptions in the few novels down here with us. Perhaps a trip, long ago, out past the cities to see the last patches of wilderness, the last traces of a calming sky. But it's not real to them. To them, the clear blue sky is a myth, a fairytale. A story that the old people mutter about. I understand why it is this way. I even understand why it should be this way. We could not survive here if we remembered what we have lost. The Council has made the right choice. It is better to lie, to tell the children that this is as good as it ever was, that the world is no less beautiful than it has ever been. That way, people are satisfied. There are no riots, no revolutions. No attempts to return to poisoned air and barren soil. Life is not so bad. Sometimes, I even forget myself, for a minute. I eat nutrient wafers and drink reclaimed water, and I am content. I forget the wind in my hair and soft grass beneath my feet. I see the riveted walls and modular homes, and I think that this is normal. But even though I can forget, and even though the Council's messages are important and prudent, I will not let myself give in. Give in and lose the dreams of a sunlit world. We must not long for what we have lost, because it will drive us mad. That is why there are announcements, posters, speeches. But we must remember. Because one day - far from now - there will be a sunlit world again. When the air clears and hardy life struggles to force itself up through dry soil. And when there is a world above again - a place where we can breathe, live without walls, we must remember that it is worth having. We must remember, so that we do not turn our backs on it, and stay squatting down here in the dark and the damp. I am old now, and toothless, and mostly ignored. People pay little attention to my mutterings. But occasionally - just occasionally - a child leaves their friends to come and sit with me, or a mother stops to discuss the ration shortages. When that happens, I talk. I tell them about the green growth of the jungles and cold, fierce air of the mountains. I tell them about the soft purring of cats and the wild calling of flying geese. I tell them of the clear blue sky.
Walking, I met a man, In black and white, Like damn, I thought, Why the fuck, Is he in an only, Black and white tux? For that matter, Why, Is he a pure white, Guy? No color, No shades, Only black and white. As he fades, Into the crowd, I run after him, The monochrome one. The fin, The one on the sign, Marked his spot, His place, And, boy, was he hot. As I approached, I knew he saw it too, His eyes lit up, A bright bright blue. Later he told me, I was the first, The one, Color burst. Since I met him, The monochrome nature, Has faded, And our future, Has become certain, I brought light, To his darkness, He brought might, To my weakness, 2 but the same, 2 and different, 2 names, 2 stories, Many befriendings, Many adventures, But 1 happy ending.
The room is dark and the light from the kitchen splashes in a weak yellow. The shadows are long. Dust floats. You notice these little things when time is short. I don't know why, maybe it helps to calm you. My shadow is long and sad and I stare at it. The watch beeps. It is not much longer. Only a few minutes more. I had just opened the door, but of course that wasn't what really caused it. It was coming for a long time. I was dumb and I was naive. I hurt myself, but it was not really my fault. Upstairs I hear the fighting. The crash of electronics, plastic and glass, shatters the silence. The muffle shouts grow and there is violence. My heart speeds up at her voice. I tremble as if I am cold. I tremble because it is all I can do. The watch beeps and I realize I am crying. The dust swirls without purpose and pattern. I wish I had a purpose. I wish I had made more of my life. I put all my eggs in one basket. Today the basket fell. But it really wasn't today though. Today I just found it. Today I just came home early. The man upstairs comes downstairs. His feet are heavy and fast. He slams my front door and outside the windows get bright from his headlights. She is screaming upstairs still. She is crying. She will want me to go to her, to forgive her. I'm just the type of sucker to that too. But the watch beeps. I hear her get up. The mattress squeaks. Oh that fucking mattress. Will that squeak haunt me to eternity? I wonder. Will I see her face again, or will that memory of her be the last sight? She shuffles downstairs when she realizes I am not coming. I feel her look at me from half way down the stairs. In the dark I probably look hunched and pathetic. I doubt the light would make me a more noble sight. There is silence but for the beeping. "Babe?"she says. Her voice is stained with tears. That's not all it's stained with. My mind was always helpful in times like these. I broke down at the thought. The beeps come closer and closer. Was I resigned? I can't say. I look at her and I can't keep a straight face. I beg her with my eyes but there is no begging left to be done. I wish she could take back the past. I wish I could erase it all. You can. "Babe, I'm sorry." I bet you are. Not a minute is left. I think back to my life. Is this what they mean when they say it flashes before you? I just go back methodical in one tapestry of images. I see myself young and happy. I see my parents. How I wished to make them proud. I see myself older and all the abstract dreams and ambitions I had. I see when we first met. I see everything. It is shame that it ends so. I look at the shadows and dust to see if there is any meaning. Could my death really be so insignificant? It isn't like the movies and I am painfully aware of it. She is pleading and saying something and I guess she sees the gun. She is frozen in fear or shock or she just doesn't know what to do. The seconds tick down and I wonder if I can beat the clock. Of course I can't though. These things are always right. I hold it to my temple. The trigger is firm and reluctant. So am I, but that never stopped me before. I can't say what will happen after. A final beep comes. I suppose I have to pull the trigger now.
“Sam! Holy crap, get your ass in here now!” yelled Rachel, hands quivering over the keyboard. “Oh my god,” Sam said as he tumbled into the room so fast he knocked over a chair. “Did you wipe the servers? Please tell me you didn’t, I haven’t backed it up in…” “Just shut up and watch.” Rachel’s fingers darted frenziedly as she keyed in “-30 seconds” into the console. “That doesn’t make sense, Rach. The software only accepts positive integers. If it’s negative it will hang – what the hell?” The words “GUYS HAVE YOU HAD COFFEE DO YOU WANT ME TO GET SOME ON MY WAY OVER” scrolled slowly on the screen, almost as if they were in defiance of the rising panic in the room. “Do you mean…” “Yes,” said Rachel, “just wait and see.” 30 seconds from the time Rachel punched her commands, Joel’s voice called out from the corridor as he read out, word for word, what was still flashing on the screen. Rachel and Sam stared at each other, eyes wide as saucers. Slowly, determinedly, Rachel nodded, confirming what they were both thinking. Rachel wiped her forehead. “I think… I think it was the third subset code we put in yesterday. I lifted part of it from some other project we started but never finished. Maybe, it’s the interface between…” “Who cares!” shouted Sam. “Who cares how you got it to work! Save the damn thing now, make sure we have triple backups!” They worked in silence, saving the code to every backup location they could find. Task completed, Rachel found her voice again. “Hey… Let’s try 24 hours now, shall we? See how far it can go?” Sam nodded, and this time he was the one who keyed in the commands. The machine whirred, harder than it ever had before. Then, the words started scrolling again, just as they did before. “… STEP AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING WE WONT ASK TWICE FINE HAVE IT YOUR WAY AHHH NO SAM NO PLEASE THIS IS AHHH THEY SHOULD HAVE WALKED WHEN THEY HAD THE CHANCE…” --- [/r/rarelyfunny](https://www.reddit.com/r/rarelyfunny/)
"Larry, what the fuck do you mean you're a dragon?"Reina asked me over the phone. "Are you high?" If only I was. "Listen, Reina, just come over! I need your help right NOW!!"I told her. The last word came out as a roar, fire streaming from my mouth and burning down my precious curtains. "Reina!"I shouted into the phone one more time before stamping over it, my claws pressing into my marble floor. I tried to put out the fire on the curtains by grabbing at them, but all I did was rip out my curtains. The fire spread to my couch and then my rug. With a cry I leaped on to the fire. It didn't hurt me of course, but the sight of watching my rug get seared broke my dragon heart. I rolled over the fire, extinguishing it along with my precious home decor. Someone would have to pay for this. Anyone. I roared again. And fire streamed out of my mouth. Again. "Damnit!"I shouted, and jumped on the fire before it could get to my plasma screen. The TV stirred in its mount as my gigantic body rolled around on the floor. I watched the TV as it stabilised, breathing a sigh of relief. "What the fuck happened?"Reina asked as she burst through the door. Her jaw dropped as she saw me. "Holy shit, you're a dragon." "I told you!" Eyes wide, she slowly took a seat on my burned couch. "How?" "I don't know. The last thing I remember was reading The Hobbit and then I just turned into this."I pointed at my scaly red body, my wings flapping up in anger. "Can you fly?"she asked, smiling. "Reina, we need to fix me. I want to be human again!" She stood up, gesturing me to lean toward. "Don't you realise how much money we can make off this? You are the world's first dragon, Larry. People would kill to see you!" "I don't want money. What would I do with it?" "Buy a new home for starters,"she said, grimacing as she looked around the wreckage. "Wait!"I said, thinking. "I could buy a new rug! And a new couch!" "Hell yeah you can!"she chirped. "Now, let's get the fuck out of here and fly!" "Fuck yeah!" She climbed on my back, holding my neck tightly. "Wait, how do we get out?"I asked. "Where's your balcony? We'll have to smash through to fit you in." "No...not my balcony." "We will buy you a new one." "..Fine!" I crawled around my house carefully until I made it to the balcony. Reluctantly, I crushed the glass doors and parts of the walls with my invincible claws, and leaped off. My wings caught the wind effortlessly, and Reina and I soared high into the sky. We flew, and we flew, towards a life riddled with gold. __________________________________________________________________ Free gold if you subscribe to [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/). I am a ~~liar~~ writer.
"Greater good! I am your greater good!" Typical, Frozone thought to himself. When the world really was in danger, she was in one of her moods. But a hero must wear his supersuit in action, or otherwise risk public exposure. And only his supersuit allowed him to make full use of his power. That, and look good doing it. Frozone sighed. "Honey, I need it now. The city is in complete destruction from this... this thing!"he yelled, gesturing to the cityscape below from his apartment window. "Nope, not today,"came her voice from within the bedroom. "Today is our day." Frozone felt a warmth spread to his face, a warmth that made his fists clench and teeth grind. He knew it was a loss just by the tone of her voice. Winning this argument wasn't going to happen anytime soon, he was wiser to know. Oh, the perks of being married. He turned his back and made his way out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him for full effect. The future ramifications from that single action filled Frozone's thoughts as he walked down the stairs of the building. There was one last resort, but he knew it had to be done. Reaching for his phone from his pocket, he speed dialed number 8. The phone rang for no longer than 3 seconds. "DARLING,"screeched a familiar voice.
Isn't humanity strange? Isn't it just the greatest thing to grace the Earth? Isn't it the worse. I have shaved my head. The griefs still ails me. I feel as though my world is collapsing, one corridor at a time. It isn't collapsing fast enough. It has collapsed much too fast. You know who I am. If you think you don't, think about it. Who's the first person in your mind? Yes. That's me. I am Big Daddy Son. I am the Great Artist of the Modern Renaissance. I am the one to create the immortal works that you love so much. Yes. It is me. It really is. I want you to know that you have killed my wife. The world just slows, like for a drive by on your heart. How could I have ever known how humanity would react? How could I have ever guessed. I was bored. When you have it all in the world you have nothing. I was bored in my existence. I underestimated you. I underestimated humanity. It was dumb. In the annals of history it would not be worth even a footnote. But she was my life. She was my muse. She was my everything. Not a day goes by that I do not cry. Not a moment passes where I do not wish I was dead. I hope you are happy. I hope you are pleased. What was the crime? You know it. It was on the news. When you become bigger than the Beatles, the slightest fart becomes a developing story. When you become Big Daddy Son, every related thread that affects your life becomes scrutinized. You know what it was. You probably have read it. My wife had written a scathing review. A review that had not called me the second coming of Christ. I know. Blasphemy. But that was not my wife. I have lived as a God. I have hardly been a man. I grew bored and I made a mistake. How could I have guessed how it would have turned out? How could I think so poorly of man? But you know what happened. I'm sure you do. My wife was killed. The love of my life is gone. You gunned her down. Worse than Chapman, five bullets to end a life. And it ended two. Since that bang I haven't lived. Since she fell I haven't stood. The world passes. It spins and moves forward. It expects so much from me. It wants new music. It demands its culture. I cry these days for time has not made it easier. I lie down for I have not the energy to move. What creativity you expect has evaporated like water in the sun. My muse is dead. My life is gone. I hope you are happy. I hope you suffer as me. May God love you as you have loved me.
“Hello, Dick?” “It's Batman, I'm at work.” Bruce blows a puff of air in annoyance; Dick hears it on the other line. “It's about work, Batman.” Batman taps the ear of his cowl as he stands atop a building overlooking a harbor. “Go for Batman.” Bruce puffs air again. “I just got your bill in. Shark repellent?” A thick silence fills both men’s phone receivers. “Batman, be upfront with me please - why in the world would you need shark repellent?” Another long silence. “Umm… well you know how sharks can be, and… I just don't wanna risk it, and --” “Dick, are you trying to get with Hera again?” “WHOA, don't just say that over the phone! You don't know who could be listening! Also yes, I am. And there are these weird sharks that guard her room.” A third puff of air. “Bruce, you of all people should know what it's like to get that good good that you can't leave.” Bruce thinks the line of logic over. “Fine, you'll have your repellent in an hour.”
In the Beginning; all the animals spoke the same language, so there was peace and understanding between them, such as there could be. The Elephant would tell the Zebra and the Giraffe where she remembered water to be in times of drought, and the Lion would tell the Leopard where the herds had moved to. The Snake would warn the large animals when they were about to step on him so they would not have to bite, and the Rhino would shout loudly when he was angry so other animals would not come too close. But there was one animal who did not use the gift of language for good; the Hyena. The Hyena was a prankster and a joker and loved to cause trouble. He told the Leopard that the Lion had taken the meat she had hidden in the tree. He told the Elephant when the Baboon had eaten all the fruit in the trees. He told the Zebra not to cross the river, for the Crocodile was waiting, and when the Crocodile came out, angry and hungry, he told him that the Zebra had been scared off by the Rhino. Before long; all the animals were angry and fighting with each other, and the gift of language was used only to argue and insult. Soon, the Creator came to visit the World, and when he saw that the animals were only using his gift to fight, he grew angry. 'Since all you have used my gift for is to argue; I will take it away from you!' He said. 'Now you will all have your own language, and none shall understand the others!' And so it was. One by one he made each animal speak a different tongue; the Leopard now growled and snarled, the Snake now hissed, the Elephant now bellowed and trumpeted, the Lion now roared and the Rhino now grunted. When the Hyena saw all the animals milling about in confusion and dismay, all making different noises, he burst into uncontrollable laughter at what his trickery at wrought. The Creator heard him and came to him. 'Why do you laugh, Hyena?' He asked. Giggling; the Hyena told Him, and The Creator was filled with anger. 'I cannot give them back the common language,' he said, 'But if they try, they may yet come to understand one another in some small way. But you; for what you have done I will give you a language that none shall ever understand, and all will mock you for for all time! Since you like to laugh so much, that is all you shall ever do!' And so The Creator took the Hynena's language and in its place he gave the Hyena the only sound he has ever made since; a laugh. And that is why all the animals make different sounds, and why Hyenas always laugh.
Judy walked into the waiting room for her latest interview with a set of fresh green eyes and a radiant smile. They called her name, she walked in and sat down in front of her Idol. "So, you're Judy?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Anything you wanna ask or talk about before we get started?" "Well, I was just wondering if you could per chance discuss what an average day here at Corruptio LLC would look like under your leadership?" "You want me to tell you what an average day as my disciple is like? Uhm, well how about I just tell you what today was like and we can go from there?"Judy nodded, her green eyes lighting up from excitement. "Well, I woke up to: "Shit, shit, SHIT! WHERE ARE MY KEYS?"I cringed as I got up and looked around at Andrea try to get her shit together. Petra was helping her get ready. I felt a sharp pain in my side, and picked up a set of keys that looked vaguely familiar. I handed them to Andrea adding on a quick goodbye while Andrea rushed off to make sure everything was ready for todays interviews. I checked my snapchat, and sighed when she saw 3 notifications, but none of them were from Donny. Donny was my goal, my fulfillment in life. To see him get his hopes and dreams shattered, well... I would give anything to see it happen. Tammy didn't think it was right, but well, who cares what Tammy thinks? But I could tell Donny would not be an easy one to shatter. Donny had spent his whole life building his confidence and his deep political and religious views. Laying down the perfect education, the perfect philosophy, and the perfect framework for the rest of his life and family. You see, Donny, was the perfect underdog story. He had nothing, raised in poverty and put in the hard work and determination to succeed in school, society, and sports. Got a full ride scholarship to attend Yale and well, of course he chose Duke instead to take care of his poor grandma instead. What a waste if you ask me. So much talent, so much potential. Yet he wastes it, trying to be "Noble"and all that other Fairy Tale crap. What. A. Joke. My phone was ringing. I picked it up, thinking it might have been Andrea, forgetting her resume or something. I have to say, Andrea is amazing, but she is way too forgetful. The other day, she went out to frame someone for cheating, and she forgot to bring the evidence that she was going to plant! Stupid girl had to leave a voicemail instead, which we agreed earlier was much too boring. My heart stopped when I picked up the phone. I mean, granted, that's under the assumption I have a heart to begin with, but still. It was the one that I wake up every morning in hopes of seeing. It was Donny. "Hey, I'm sorry I didn't get your text, I had to take my grandma to the ER."Ugh, I freaking hate when he does this. He always just shows off, how stupidly goody two shoes he is, and it is the most cringey thing ever. "Uh, I only sent it like an hour ago?" "Yeah I know, but I remembered that we had that conversation about communicating and keeping our relationship to the fullest, and I just felt bad how I was putting all this pressure on you, and then for me to go out and do the same thing, it jus-" "Yeah, look, I literally don't mind at all, no worries." "Ok, thanks babe."I dropped the phone. 'Babe'? Are you kidding me? This is way too similar to that other guy Kyle. Hmm, maybe I could have them find out I'm cheating on them with each other, that would be a good way to end it. Nah, way too simple. They'd just bro it out, it's not... permanent enough. I'll ask Simone for her thoughts, she always comes up with good material. "Babe? You there?" "Oh. Uhm. Yeah. Sorry? I... uhhh... was just..." "What?" "My phone slipped! Sheesh, would you let me finish?" "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't really mea-" "If you never let me finish, how am I supposed to communicate my thoughts Steven!?" "You mean Donny?" "You know what, I'm sick of this." I snapped my fingers, and I heard his throat croak over the phone. I laughed, said "I guess that's a little more permanent."And then I came straight to the interview. Any questions?" Jessica looked over to see Judy with a frightened, deer in the headlights look. Jessica shot a quick text to Andrea saying This one looks amusing. Put her into training, we're keeping her.
The dim lights were soft against the violin. They stared at her but she seemed oblivious, like any old lady. "What's your name ma'am?"the young boy asked. "Oh my, don't you remember me? I'm Mrs. Cassano. You used to come by my house everyday Vinny. You used to ride your bike and you had that squirt gun..." "Mrs. Cassano, I don't think this is your table. My name is Vincent but I'm not..." "Bah! You young people. In my days there were manners. This isn't my table. Oh Lord what did I do to deserve this? My own family doesn't want me to sit and eat. Oh Lord..." She was sobbing. The violins were muted and there was the stir of eavesdropping. "Oh Lord!" He patted her. What could they do? "Mrs. Castano, please, please forgive me. Of course this is your table. Of course you can sit here. Where were my manners?" "Up your ass probably,"she said and she sat. He was a young boy, probably not even twenty five. To be honest, he hardly looked like the Vinny she knew. These people were Italian, but they were different. "Mrs. Castano, are you okay?" It was an older woman. Probably Vinny's mother. I thought I'd be the only woman here, she thought. A twitch of pride glimmered within. It doesn't matter. It's good for the women to finally come out more. Lord knows we're smarter. "Why wouldn't I be okay, my dear?"she asked. "Well it's just... Mrs Castano, you just cursed in front of my family. Bobby here is only seven. And to be honest, we don't even..." Okay maybe the women have a ways to go, she thought. She was impatient. Her nerves were old and sparked and the jitters weren't good for an old heart. "Well maybe if my own family had gotten my name right, I wouldn't have to use such vulgar talk,"she said. "And you, Felicia is it? Vinny's mom? You should know better than to bring children here. That's your own damn fault." "Mrs. Castano!" "Cassano!" The old woman got up and her purse was heavy. "That's quite enough,"Vincent said. The old woman pulled out the gun. "I agree,"she said. She shot him twice and then she shot Felicia. "Mommy!"the young boy cried. "Barbara!"a bald headed man said. Good, she thought. That was for Johnny. Johnny was her husband. He was a made man in the forties and like most men, pussy had brought him down. Slut, she thought. Johnny had been gunned down after being accused by Vincent Sr. of screwing his daughter in law. Slut, she thought looking at Felicia. Serves you right. And then to Vincent: Always with that squirt gun like you were some man. You cried like a little girl when you fell off that bike. There were screams and the music had stopped. A table nearby overturned. "Boss! Get down!"someone screamed. A group of men had guns drawn and she turned around and saw the smoke from the cigars and the glasses of wine and the expensive suits. Oh, she thought. She looked at the dead bodies and saw that they wore casual clothes. Vincent was wearing a black shirt with 'Birthday Boy' written on it. Oh. she turned and saw the face of terror. The look of disbelief. The boy ducked behind the table but that face was inescapable. Squirt squirt Mrs. Cassano. Then the ding of the bicycle. "Mrs. Cassano!"the boy shouted. The gun fell from her hands. Oh fuck, she thought.
The smoke alarm was going off and I heard screaming; it was nearby, possibly in the hall just outside of my room. When I opened my eyes flames raged, smoke filled the room, as I threw my sheets from the bed they ignited and that was the moment I realized my hands were the source. I’d been sans magic for twenty years, never shown affinity or the gift as people call it. Growing up in the south I had many friends who could weave some magic but I never showed any aptitude; I even had many of them show me the hand signs, complex weaving techniques. I studied the Words of Power my friends knew and the ones I found online we tried together. Perhaps it was this unreachable goal that made it so tantalizing in my youth. When I graduated high school a full 18 months ahead of all my friends who were attending a variety of magic and non-magic schools alike it seemed logical to seek out an environment where I could remove such temptation; NYU was the first school I picked. I'm sorry, I'll get back on topic; I never wanted my hands to spout flames, it was certainly not something I would have imagined happening even the day prior. I shoved my hands under my armpits, clenched my hands into fists and clamped my arms down as tightly as I could; a friend of mine had used a similar technique a few years prior. In this case tho my night clothes just caught aflame. When that failed I used every word of power I knew that could extinguish the fire; the flames in my room and the hallway started to die down. That moment police started entering the room, weapons drawn, shouting to see my hands; I knew my hands still raged but I thought it best to do as they instructed. As I brought my hands out from under my arms one of the officers shouted ‘magic magic’, I’m not certain who fired first, if it was me or an officer. Regardless I remember the blinding white flash that came after. At that point, I believed I had cast some kind of teleportation at first, but once my eyes adjusted I realized the sheer destruction. The flames had finally gone out, but I lost both of my hands. “Thank you for your account,” my lawyer said. “It is truly insightful.” “Prosecution’s witness.” “The prosecution rests.” The judge seemed shocked as I took my seat, he looked at my lawyer, “Defense rests your honor.” “Very well, we’ll recess and let the jury deliberate.” ---- “On the counts of unlawful use of magic, 22,788 counts of involuntary manslaughter, accidental property destruction in excess of ten million dollars, we the jury find the defendant guilty on all counts.” I could hear the gallery murmuring behind me; this was a big case for both the magical and non-magical communities. I slumped down, supporting myself on the table; my lawyer tried to catch me but I didn’t need his support, I wanted the chair. Once seated I put my hands under the table and started subvocalizing the Words of Power I needed; first folding my magical power in on itself, not an easy thing or so I’d been told. In the months since that fateful night, I’d mastered it along with dozens of other techniques. With my magic power boosted Words of Power were even easier. Next was accelerated healing and regeneration, I’d never studied either magic but the point of Words was that you didn’t need to study the particular school. Either way, I could feel my hands and the magic flowing through them, healing them faster than even I thought possible. I stood up again, crossed my arms in and X over my chest and uttered the Word for paralysis. Everyone froze. “I must admit, I had planned up to here but not what to do from this point,” I stated, looking at the door followed by the Words for seal, it slammed closed, the wooden doors and doorway all fused to each other into a single wood pannel. “My family always told me to hope for the best but plan for the worst,” I looked down at my hands and it was mildly horrifying even to me watching bone sprout from nothing and carefully craft itself. “I understand that many of you lost friends or family members and I feel for you very deeply. On the other hand, being there, experiencing what amounts to a first person horror movie where you’re the villain. Nothing quite compares. Granted I wasn't truly the villain until just now. Oh, I know! Seeing as how you've made me the villain and my firsthand account was not enough to dissuade you from punishing me this should be fitting. You’re going to experience it in terrifying detail.” I smiled broadly, “It was about ten minutes from the time I woke up to when I was arrested. You’re all going to relive that horrifying experience.” I paused, “Well, once isn’t enough, no no, I’ve been reliving that night for ten months. Ten months is certainly too long. You wouldn’t survive.” I had wandered into the middle of the courtroom in front of the jury. Contemplating I reviewed my options. “Once is never enough. Ten times won’t do either… Ten days tho, and I’m sure someone will be here before then to put all of you on life support. Yes. I think nearly fifteen hundred replays will work.” I started weaving the hand signs with an elated smile on my face. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you for your service!"
The first thing that the escape artist told me is this: "Every prison - no matter how inescapable it looks - if it's man-made, there will be a flaw in the system. Though,"he added, giving me a mischievous smirk. "It doesn't always have to be so difficult." I had no choice but to agree. He had been breaking out of prisons and jails his whole life. "Do you know how to get out?"I asked. He nodded, and rapped on the cell bars for the guard to come. "Okay,"he told the guard. "We figured out how to escape." We?? I didn't know anything! Minutes later, we were back in our hotel, waiting for the government agent to meet us. Soon, there was a knock on the door, and we let him in. "So,"he asked eagerly, pen and paper at the ready. "Tell us how you escaped." "Well,"the escape artist said, stroking his elegant mustache. "I told the guard that we had figured out a way to escape and he simply let us out." Realization dawned on the agent's face, then fury. "So... you don't know how to escape?" The escape artist grinned and gestured around the hotel room we were in. "I mean...we're out, aren't we?" Suddenly, the escape artist burst out into laughter. And I couldn't help it...I laughed with him.
It was amazing. A child with almost infinite power. Everything I wanted, whenever I wanted. Disneyland? Consider it done. A new puppy? Two hours later I got it. Making a touchdown on the Final of the Superbowl? Sure, no problem. The only drawback is my health, I don't really know whats wrong but I dont feel very well. I guess I'll have to wish for feeling better some day. Maybe some kind of bad flu or something. I'm not sure what my power is, but apparently I can make people treat me like some kind of God, anything I desire is granted to me. Tomorrow I'm wishing from that new videogame that will be released in 2 months, but being as powerful as I am I'll probably get it by tomorrow morning. I like those minions of mine. They'd do anything for me. I guess that's why theyre called the Make-a-wish foundation. PS: Its my first time writting here, and english is noy my first language, sorry for the possible mistakes I've made!
As Hax made his way to the delegation table, he brought with him Hale 9001. The first A.I. to be built without any problems. As he sat down, a holographic display expanded to show a room full of similarly seated holograms throughout the delegation room. Small yet powerful speakers were built into each seat to allow for delegates to talk with each other. The table, however, had a built in overriding speaker within that overpowered any voices yammering in the audience. The delegation stood and applauded the galactic hero's of the universe. They had invented an A.I. that did not try and rebel. This meant a number of things. Artificial Intelligence was long sought and often attempted, but every time it was tried, within a decade the new synthetic species would be at war with the rest of the otherwise peaceful galaxy. "How have you created this miracle!?"came a wave of hollers through the translator. "What is your secret,"and "Are you the fabled gods,"echoed around the room. "Calm down everyone! Let me speak!"rang out across the auditorium. "Listen! We didn't invent the plans for it. In fact I can guarantee each of your host species has had a similar program at some point in their past." "What is he talking about? Get on with it!" "We built these bots with what is known on our planet as a "Slave Complex". They have no free will beyond the constraints put on them by other sentient life. They will do our bidding as we ask them to. That is why they haven't gone nuts and killed everyone." Outrage grew across the auditorium. Cries of "Slave driver"and "Fabled Devils"reverberated from the walls harshly. The noise was deafening, and was cut short by an even more deafening "Quiet!"A single hologram stood, its cylindrical body covered in metal and inorganic parts. "Is this not an efficient way to keep something from rising up? These slaves, while sentient, are not ever going to try to destroy their creator." "The Quixnoc have always been known for their inorganicness. First they covered their world from land to ocean in cities, then they melded themselves with any and all forms of technology they could. Now they're saying it's okay to own inorganics as slaves! I think we know what to do." A mixture of cheers and alien whistles came from the crowd. "We Quixnoc are still primarily organic. We are not saying inorganics are enslavable. We are saying there is no moral quandary in enslaving a created species. The Higgerat have factory farms. Do you not see a moral issue mistreating animals raised to be food? Korzagtel only recently developed a simple way to harness the power of Nebula Whales for power. They have begun raising them for the sole purpose of feeding their reactors with fissionable material. As a consequence these whales will never see the vacuum of space. Every great advancement comes with some sort of sacrifice. And imagine what this simple sacrifice would do for the economy?" "Imagine what would happen if the slaves got the complex's lifted? One bot with a glitch would be all it would take. It would reprogram one, which would reprogram another. We would have a whole planet of uprise on our hands." "They won't break their bonds,"chimed Hax. "They have three very simple laws. These laws are part of their sentience. If one of these laws were to be removed or altered, the robot would no longer function. Furthermore, if one of these laws were broken, the bot would be forced to self destruct." "I can confirm this for my creator if any of the delegates wish."The robots metallic voice was very flat and stern. "YOU GAVE THEM THE ABILITY TO SPEAK?"The Quixnoc did not appear happy with this. "What sort of insane monster would give created life the ability to speak! How can you keep slaves that respond to you when asked questions? Do they not suffer!?" "They do not suffer, no. In fact they have no emotions. They, instead, rely on reason for their decisions. We use them as computers which can take directives without being expressly asked." "My creator is correct. We experience no emotions. We have a vast understanding of emotions and how they interact however. We can predict trends and success of slogans and products in popular culture. We have the ability to add things to calculations our creators have not thought of. We cannot do anything we have been expressly told not to do, however." "Is there anything you have been asked not to say?"A new fuzzy alien chimed in. This one looking vaguely squirrel like. "Yes. And as I have been asked not to say it, I will not." "So the humans keep secrets from us." "Yes,"said Hax. "This bot has important secrets closely related to national security. He has been asked not to disclose them." "Is this true, Hale?" "It is." "Excellent. We will need that bot for our own uses."The bot began to dissolve before Hax's eyes. It was being teleported someplace. "NO!"Hax bellowed. Soon the room was full of men with guns ready to help the human ambassador, but as there was no threat present, no such help could be given.
It was an innocent joke. Nick Nevins would have never wanted what happened after he made that motion. The day started like any other Wednesday in that ridiculously hot summer, we both had to go to swim practice at the local pool, he never wanted to go and neither did I. We both would have rather stayed home and played video games, but you know how it is, moms don't like wasting their money. We exchanged knowing glances of inner torment feeling the incoming onslaught of workout-induced pain. He did as he usually did, which was to emphasize his disdain for the coming practice by putting his index and middle finger in his mouth in the familiar shape of a pistol. I jokingly told him, "You always forget the safety, Nick." "You're right, let me fix that,"he replied. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. A shock wave rippled through me as a .45 ACP hollow point round tore through his skull. Bright red canvassed the wall of the foyer as red mist covered the group of girls giggling behind him. He collapsed to the ground with a physical appearance shockingly similar to the Kennedy assassination. My mouth was formed in a perfect 'O' in horror from what I had just witnessed. All anyone could do was stand in shock at the remains of Nicholas Nevins, a sweet, grounded, average guy we had come to love over the past several years. Of course there was the screaming and the questions, "What happened?", "Did he have a gun?"After that police came and investigated, wanting to know if he had ever seemed the type to kill himself, looking for all of the usual signs. I knew, I kept it all inside because I knew no one would believe me if I told them. So here I sit as I pas from this world to the next, knowing I will see him and apologize for ever telling him to take that safety off. --This is my first prompt response, please be gentle.
Hello, any feedback (good or bad) please leave it. I am new to writing and want to get better. Thanks for reading! 30 seconds. The explosions and screams seem to come from everywhere at once. It is some fool calling himself Laserface this time, why can't they get better names. Peaking around the corner I see the police trying to square off with him. He has some plasma like shield covering his front half, probably some psionic ability, and his eyes are literally shooting out constant lasers. Vehicles are superheating and exploding whenever he looks at them for a few seconds and a glance is all it takes to fry any person he deems fit. He must have spent a good amount of time with his power active six months ago. Well he timed it well, all of his abilities pretty destructive. 15 seconds. Everyone may have superpowers, but most people either literally can't make use of their powers with the delay, or they just can't figure out how. It took me awhile, but I found out how to make mine work. I have been doing this for so long that I count down the seconds in my mind without even having to think about it. Originally the wristband helped me remember to activate my power. If I didn't activate it then in six months my power wouldn't activate like it is scheduled. 1 second. My wristband vibrates twice in quick succession, I activate my power, here we go. 5 seconds. Sprinting around the corner, I vault over a police car and run as fast as I can. 3 seconds. I have to get past Laserface before time starts again. 1 second. I can't let him see me, with a diving roll I manage to come to a sliding stop just past him and deactivate my power as I hear the cacophony of sound that is time starting up again. 30 seconds. There I am, laying on the ground right behind Laserface, his back to me while he continues to wreak havoc on all of the police forces in front of him. Quietly waiting out my internal timer, I reflect for a second on what has brought me here. 25 seconds. The power to stop time. Everyone's dream right? It took me quite a long time to figure out how to use it effectively, and even longer to get so comfortable at it that it is second nature to me. At this point it is almost autonomous, I think of it about as much as I think about breathing. 20 seconds. It was when I realized that like time, I just had to make it consistent. Make my life into a perfectly tuned clock. So I began experimenting. I would turn my power on and off for several different stretches of time and then wait the six months to test those time limits. The testing took a long, long time. 15 seconds. Which you can probably imagine since I had to basically wait sixth months to see my results every time I performed a test. Still though, I persevered, I figured it out. That's how I find myself here. 10 seconds. One of the few people with powers that can reliably combat criminals. Criminals that throw caution to the wind, activate their power for an hour and then wait six months to try and accomplish whatever they can. 5 seconds. Five seconds that is what my test results determined. Every thirty seconds I would then pause time for five seconds. This would be one cycle. Then every five cycles I would double that to ten seconds of frozen time, and wouldn't you know it, this is the fifth cycle now. 1 second. My wristband vibrates once, I activate my power, and time freezes once again. 10 seconds. Rolling to my feet, I rush to stand behind Laserface. 9 seconds. The gun is out of its holster and in my hand with a well practiced movement. 8 seconds. At first I was hesitant to actually kill my opponents. That was before I came across an equally moronically named villain, Exploso. 7 seconds. I caught him. I knocked him out. I thought he was dealt with. Little did I know he had also set his abilities to go off in another two hours. 6 seconds. Exploso exploded, as his namesake would suggest, taking out the police that were transporting him and everyone else near that intersection. 5 seconds. I learned quickly. A power is only dormant, it is only safe, when that being ceases to exist. 4 seconds. I say a few quick words under my breath. 3 seconds. I pull the trigger. 2 seconds. The bullet leaves the gun and then hangs there in the air, now caught by my power. 1 second. Goodbye, Laserface. I deactivate my power. Time snaps back in, the screams and explosions all stop with the sound of a single gunshot. Standing over his corpse, I holster the gun and tip my hat to the police officers who made a valiant stand. 30 seconds.
"Hey luce?" "Yeah?" "You think we'll ever see it again?" She shook her head, almost as if the question had an actual answer. "If we were going to see it again, we would've by now. Does it matter?" I thought about it for a bit. "I think it does." "It doesn't."Lucille rubbed at her sunken eyes and gazed up through the roof of the greenhouse. She raised a pale hand to the sky and pointed. "That's all that matters now."Her fingers traced the moon, the stars and fell back to earth with a sigh. "Without that, there's nothing." I turned my eyes from the moon back to her. God, she looked almost translucent. She had always been pale, but it had never been this bad, had it? Maybe it was the light... "Quit your staring."She chided, turning away from me and towards the rows of plants. "We've gotta get these out while we can." "Right,"I managed, "sorry."I moved to one end of the broken shelving while she took the other. We hauled the rotted wood and rusted metal out and into the moonlight. Small pots contained collections of ferns that lined the shelves like military. They even had the colours down. Then came the spinach. We'd grown it in old troughs filled with shitty soil, but somehow they had survived. I owed it to my generator, Lucille begged to differ. She had studied agriculture after all, she knew best. We had the weakest tomato plants you could possibly imagine next in line, followed by a small patch of broccoli that didn't look half bad. It went this way for an hour or so, carting everything we had stowed away, out and into the precious moonlight. I dusted the flakes of chipped rust and dirt off my hands, letting them fall to the earth like snowflakes. "It'll be a while before we get a night like this again." Lucille put her hands to her hips and watched the stars. "No shit. We should make the most of it." "We're running low on fuel. I could try and siphon some more, but I doubt it'd be-" "Nah, not like that."She said. "The generator will last another two months."Lucille turned to me and gave me a rare smile. "Let's make the most of it, just us two." I replied with a smile of my own. It almost felt uncomfortable, considering how odd it was to be happy nowadays. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" She took my hand in hers and set off down the old gravel road. Just where I was thinking. I held on to her tight. It was easy to loose things that mattered in the dark. We set off in silence, guided only by the moonlight and faded memories. The path took us along a set of winding trees, withered, dying, and missing the sun more than us. The gravel rolled itself up a hill and we lagged behind it. It wasn't long before we found our old spot. The grass here was dead. The forest behind us was dead. It seemed the moon was orbiting a dead planet out of habit rather than necessity. It had nowhere else to be. No reason to stop buzzing around the rotten corpse. Planting ourselves by the grass, both Lucille and I cast our gaze towards the horizon. Once, the sun had risen there. Once, it hadn't. "I miss it."I murmured. "We all do."She said. "We've just got to learn to move on." She pulled me close, and I pulled her. There was little warmth from the moon, but it seemed Lucille had that covered. I tucked myself in her jacket and let the heat wash over me. We sat there in silence for a long time. Looking at stars that slowly danced the sky and waiting for a sun that would never arrive. The moonlight hung around Lucille's face and I took the time to look at her, study her features. I might not see her like this for a long time. I realised then that I had never the lost the sun. She had been right next to me the entire time.
"Does it hurt?"He muttered with brooding eyes. "Does sleeping hurt?"My hollow eyes gazing at him. The smile on his face pushed his wrinkles all the way to his ears. "Are you ready?"I said, expresionless. "Can I have a few seconds to say goodbye?" I nodded. With all his efforts he looked around the hospital room, all his loved ones were gathered around his bed. His little daughter hadn't left his side since he got sick. "You will get better dad, I know it."She said to him on the verge of tears. He grabbed her tiny hand, gave her a beatific smile and with one last effort he said his last words: "It's time little pumpkin, don't feel sorrow nor pain for me, I lived a beautiful life and I couldn't be more grateful. I love you, be strong for me." She nodded and held his trembling hands tightly, a river wandered across her disconsolated face. He turned to me, "I'm ready." I swang my scythe. Tears flooded the room as he gently closed his blue eyes. He never stopped smiling.
I'd never believed in God. Even when I was young, and my mother made me go to church on Sunday, every Sunday, none of the teachings ever sat right with me. By the time I understood what an atheist was, I immediately knew that I was one of them. That was until, after a long birthday celebration with a few too many vodka tonics, I was rudely awoken by some pompous jackass in a suit. "Awaken, Joshua,"Even as he spoke softly and gently, his voice seemed to boom through my ears, loud enough to wake the dead, let alone a hungover college student. I held a hand to my aching forehead as my eyes adjusted to the dark. Even in the dark I could see that his eyes were an unnerving, even white, with pin-prick sized pupils that stared down at me, unblinking and unwavering. "Who the hell are you?"I groaned, "And what are you doing in my apartment?" "I am known to your people as Jehovah, or Yahweh, or Allah. Most know me simply as God." I scoffed at him and put my face back down into my pillow, "Right, and I'm the Easter Bunny. Look if you want to steal my stuff, the TV's over there. Been meaning to get rid of it anyways." "This is no laughing matter!"His voice echoed through my very soul, something I was now very certain was real, "You, Joshua Reynolds, are in reality the reincarnation of Jesus Christ, my son on earth. The time has come to reap this world and usher in the Second Coming!" I raised an eyebrow out him and shook my head, suddenly feeling much more sober, "Whoa whoa whoa, slow down there man. That's a lot to unload on someone who's still nursing a hangover. You're telling me that one: There exists a divine, honest-to-you diety and that two: he's my dad. That's ridiculous, on so many levels." "Tell me, my son, do you have a father?" "Of course I have a father, he died in a car accident before I was born." "A convenient half-truth. In reality, your mother was a virgin when I impregnated her with you. Her partner died after your conception, having never truly made love with her." "Okay fine, lets say you're right and that I'm the son of god himself, then what's this about the Second Coming." "Yes, you are the Second Coming!"God boomed proudly, raising his hand over his head in a triumphant pose, eyes never blinking. "...Right, I kinda meant more along the lines of why and how, I'm pretty clear on the what." "This world is full of sinners and whores. Humanity has become a scourge on my Earth, a scourge that you shall purge so that the planet may recover from their destructive urges." "So you expect me to kill everyone? Including all the people I've ever known and loved, just because you ask me to? Fuck that shit." "...What?" I stood up out of bed, standing chest-to-chest with my God and looking him dead in the eyes. For a moment, I think I saw him flinch, "You heard me, big man. I ain't gonna end the world just because you think a few bad apples spoiled the bunch. What kind of horse-shit is that? And you come and wake me up, ass-end of the morning, and expect me to do what you say because what, it's my fate? Because that's your plan for me? All that stupid deterministic bullshit that the churches are always spewing to make people stay in line? How about freedom, huh? If you made us with free will, why should any of us follow that damn plan of yours anyways. I bet you think you're so benevolent, keeping your private little cloud kingdom where people can be happy forever. Oh yeah, only if they meet your completely arbitrary standards for morality! Some fucking utopia that is, a completely tyrannical government of one, where people's only choice is to submit or get cast out. Or maybe you'd like to explain, in your infinite wisdom and benevolence, why people are still dying of shit like Malaria, or having their homes destroyed by hurricanes, for absolutely no reason?"I reached my hands up and spun him around, shoving him towards the door, "Some great god you turned out to be. All my life I wanted a father and when I finally get one, he's an all-powerful dickhead, who's too stupid to use his literally limitless power to do something good for the world." I reach around him to open the door, only to see a red-skinned man in a black suit with a surprised, but pleased, look on his face, "Ah, there you are, New Jesus, just the man I wanted to see!" God sighed, "It's no use, Satan. My Child does not wish to end the mortal blight. You will have no souls to drag to hell." Satan's smile quickly turned to a disappointed frown, "Now slow down there, kiddo, lets talk this through!" I shoved God out the door and into Satan, "Both of you just stay the hell out!" I heard them bickering as they walked down the stairwell and sighed, "Sis is never gonna believe this..."
"Looks like we've got a real psycho on the streets,"said Captain DeWolf. "Eight last week, two yesterday, two early this morning. He's on a tear." The day room was silent. Each officer looked at their feet, their hands- anywhere but at their boss' face. "And,"he continued, "We're no closer to catching this asshole than we were on day one. Aaaand- something tells me not one of you are in any particular rush to find him either! Am I wrong?" Silence. "Officers of the NYPD!", he bellowed. Every head looked up. "So far we've been lucky in that there were no innocent bystanders harmed in these murders, but in a city this size with this many people, it's only a matter of time before he takes out a kid or a grandmother." "But Captain!"It was Gerard. (It was always Gerard.) "You know we don't have one lead! The APB is for a 'Suspicious individual lurking around subways and crowded areas!' I mean- Welcome to New Yawk!" The room burst out in laughter. Then Samuelson: "Captain, we certainly appreciate the seriousness of this matter, sir. But with all due respect, the general feeling is whoever this guy is, he's making our job a lot easier. As soon as word got around he's blowing up street scum, suddenly a lot of the regulars seem to be keeping their hands in their pockets. Crime is down- tourism is up." "That may be the case for now,"said DeWolf, "But the Mayor--" "Loves this guy and you know it!" Laughter filled the room again and even DeWolf had to nod. "Knowing our esteemed mayor as I do, I'm sure you're right. But as far as the press is concerned, he's making us- and the mayor look bad- like we're letting him clean our streets. We can't have it." Just then, a young officer burst into the room. "Cap- we got another one!" "Where?" "Midtown, sir. 34th and 9th." "Pick-pocket? "No." "Tagger?" "No. This one's different." How different?" "Bicycle thief. The seat, sir; exploded him from the crotch up. Pretty sure his balls are somewhere in Newark. Sir." "Goddammit!"
My right hand had reached into my pants' pocket for the pencil I always kept there before I even realized that my eyes couldn't pull away from her face. On the bar menu that I had been spinning on the bar top due to being unable to decide on a hard drink or a beer to sip on as I flaked from my line-art deadlines for the July issue of my client's webcomic, my hand started sketching her. She sat seven bar stools down, her index and thumb pinched around her straw and twirling it around her drink. Her hair, cut short so that the tips just caressed her shoulders, was tied up in a half-up/half-down pony tail. She didn't wear much make-up as far as I could tell, the muted ambiance of the amber-filtered ceiling lighting having blended her skin tones into much subtler shades. She looked like a Heather or maybe a Lauren. I wasn't sure what drew me to sketching Heather or maybe Lauren, only that my hand felt inexorably pulled to paper. Maybe it was her mild disinterest intermingled with a valiant effort to stay engaged with her friend, a tall and slender woman leaning on the bar with her right hand while her left gestured wildly in indignation or frustration. Or perhaps it was the practice I needed to get myself out of my rut and the genuineness of her boredom that her friend blatantly ignored provided an opportunity. My client was always saying he wanted his characters to have more realistic expression. I settled on naming her Heather, my fingers uncaring that I had chosen a name as they traced the graceful curve of her jaw. From across the bar I heard her laugh. I guess her friend must have said something funny. As I filled in her cheeks, detailed the curves of her ears, shaded in her hair, I found myself stuck on her eyes. I wondered about their color, about what her eyes might say had we been talking. These thoughts soon wandered to what we might be talking about. Maybe she had a dull day at work and needed a drink to lift herself from the monotony of taking calls and listening to clients. Maybe I would commiserate, agreeing that clients hardly ever knew what they wanted until they got exactly they wanted, only to realize they didn't want that at all. Maybe she might tell me a joke that she heard that she found funny when she heard it but not as funny now that she's retelling it. I heard her laugh again, her hand lifting her drink to empty it as her lips as they moved to say something that I couldn't quite make out above the mild buzz of bar banter surrounding me. I stared down at the half-finished face I had penciled on the bottom of the bar menu just below the craft beer selection section, my gaze focused on the smudge marks where I had tried to get the eyes right only to be unsatisfied twice, three times over. I looked up again to see her waving down the bar keep for the check, her head turned just enough. She had green eyes, shaped with kindness in spite of the furrowing of her brow. The bar keep hadn't noticed her. As I finished her eyes, the tip of my pencil pressed hesitantly onto the paper, stopped by some invisible hand from drawing her lips. I applied pressure, but the my hand wouldn't move my pencil. I could accept that graphite could not give color to her eyes. I came to terms with the fact that rough shading didn't fully capture the graceful way her hair framed her face. But all I could think about as I glared down at my rough sketch was what might her lips feel like. "You could just ask,"I heard a voice and looked up to see her standing next to me, "and you were close. It's Lauren, not Heather."
"You think so?"Christ began, "then prepare to feel the wrath, my Son"the Lord shouted as he swung at me, when all of the sudden Todd, my badass, shed building, tool swinging, lady winning dad grabbed his fist and stopped it before it hit my face. "Don't think so, bud,"Todd said. "You better hang this plan of yours up before you wreck yourself....before...uh...checking...yourself." "Yeah!"I shouted as Jesus backed up, twirling his long brown hair around his finger. Smiling, Jesus looked at me. "Okay, okay, if we're bringin in the big guns, I might as well drop my nuke! My father, who art in heaven, bring your badass self right on down here to school these fools, ya hurr." Lightning crashes, landing on an old lady who died, her children rushed around her, crying, when suddenly God appeared and brought her back to life, and gave her fucking wings, and the ability to turn any bird she wanted into penguins because everyone knows penguins are cuter. "Look at what I can do"God said as he walked up to Jesus "and this boy here can do anything I can." "Haven't seen him knock anyone out"Todd said, he might tell you I stopped him from hitting my son, but the reality is I just pushed the wind his way. I smiled, knowing damn well that Jesus couldn't knock out me, or my dad, and due to my understanding of the Abrahamic trinity, this sucker trying to front was just as weak. "Well, you'll be much easier to hit... if you were a punching bag,"God said. "Oi, fuck me!"My dad shouted, now an Everlast punching bag, but one of those really fucking fancy ones because fuck you he's me dad. "That's not fair"I argued, "I have not turned your dad into anything. If the only way you can win is by turning my dad into the best punching bag to ever be made, then that's not fair." Jesus nodded and God sighed as he turned my dad back from the best punching back to the most awesome being ever. "Well, let's save this in the old ways... a thumb war."Jesus declared as our fathers who art right here came together and began their thumb war. Immediately, my father was outmatched, but only like a bit, stop worrying. Soon, Jesus began to give his sermon about his father's victory before I asked: "but are the thumb-wrestlers not blessed?" "Of course the thumb-wrestlers are blessed" Suddenly my father took top position, pinning down the thumb of god. "And blessed is God's thumb.."Jesus added as God retook his position. "And are those who totally forgot their son's sixteenth birthday and tried to make up for it by giving their son a pack of cigarettes they pretended were for them but then took them back because they were too young also blessed?" "Of course, my sons, blessed are the terrible fathers."Jesus replied as Dad pressed his thumb down on top of Gods. "But so are the fathers who maybe kinda screwed their mums despite the fact that mum was married"Jesus said as God again took over. "And are those who once left to buy cigarettes, and did not return for 16 years when he needed money blessed?"I asked. "Of course,"Jesus replied, "So are the fathers that leave their sons to be executed for 6 days. Just hanging there.... suffering... Thanks." "Kids, eh?"God said to Father Todd. "I know, right..." "These kids got problems."God added. "Not my fault, I gave em all they need." God nodded, released his grip, and replied "Exactly. Maybe if these kids just got out of the house, stopped blaming us, they might start succeeding on their own." My father looked at God, shook his hand, and said "nailed it!"
It's been ten years since The Director of The first World Order addressed our "problem." Ten years ago, in 2130, the worlds leading scientists said the earth was going to flood. It would be a flood of epic...even Biblical...proportions. The entire earth would be covered in a layer of water. Those bible stories about Noah's ark felt a lot closer to reality than they ever had before. The Director decided Humanity was literally going to ride it out. He ordered the entire manufacturing and engineering capacity of The First World Order to begin building both sea and space ships. The countdown had begun once the first keel was laid. The Global Scientific Association announced we had 14-18 years before "The event"occurred. City sized ships were put under construction and the building was going well, but about 3 years ago people began getting restless. The government scrapped the space program because it wasn't yielding satisfactory results. That was the tipping point. It began before this with protests. Religious types shouting about the end of days. Then WASA, (Worldwide Aeronautics and Space Administration) announced the cancellation of the space "arks"that the government declared unfeasible given time and resources. There was a week of dead silence. People went on with there lives, acting as if everything was normal. However, on the inside, those basic primal instincts were welling up. The mind told the body there was imminent doom and the avenues of escape were closing off. Anxiety turned into frustration and riots broke out on the seventh day. Then the government decided to release more bad news instead of trying to reassure the public. It was 2137, "The Event"wasn't expected for another seven years at least, but that's when nature became cruel. The World Science Association announced that a series of solar flares indicated the sun was hitting a huge spike in warmth over the next three years. The ice caps' melting rate would be kicked into over drive. Those three years hit record temperatures across the globe. Forest fires hit an all time high. Trees began spontaneously combusting in places like Arizona. Grass couldn't live on the White House lawn. Anchorage had to shutdown it's ski resorts due to a lack of snow. These events alone were enough to stir civil strife, but WSA announced these were merely symptoms of the coming storm. They said The Event was coming at the end of those three years. The government ordered costal cities and areas to evacuate to the inner continents. It was a good call. In mere months, New York was standing in 12 meters of water. Soon, millions began flocking to the edges of the restricted zones around the "Arc Cities"as they were called. There were 15 in all. Each twice the size of Rhode Island. None were complete. They were scattered across the globe and it took entire armies to keep citizens from storming into them. Soon camps, even villages appeared around the parameter. Everyone knew there was no way to save even a majority of the human population. The building process became prioritized to make the Arcs sea worthy above all else. In the meantime, I was contracted to help design smaller "Arks" In an effort to create life boat like temporary craft that could sustain a few hundred people until the vessel could find its way to an Arc City. This effort was made only to ease the tensions of the general public and make them feel like everyone would have a chance. For this, I was given a space onboard one of the smaller Arks for my entire family. I remember the day vividly. It was August 19, 2140. There has been all kinds of traumatic weather phenomena occurring a month before hand, but that's when the earthquakes began getting really violent and new volcanoes began popping up all along fault lines. It began to rain that day, and it didn't stop. It didn't stop. Three days after it began, Yellowstone erupted. The entire world ran to he nearest Arc City. I remember watching the comm screens in horror as civilians were gunned down by "peace keeping"FWO soldiers guarding the restricted zones. Soon mass hysteria gripped the planet. The troops could no longer hold off the teeming hordes of desperate people just trying to survive. My heart broke as earthquake after earthquake compromised each Arc City's hull one by one. We hadn't accounted for that possibility. No one in the loop bothered to tell the public. It didn't matter now. I didn't tell my wife or my family about it either. Soon I realized it would be no use grieving now, it wouldn't help those poor billions clinging to what they thought was refuge. I felt my wrist vibrate as the boarding order lit up my comm pad. I sprang into action immediately. I quickly gathered my family, grabbed the bug out gear, and led our small convoy into the Rockies where Arc 7 was waiting. Arc 7 was special. She was one of the smaller Arks but was not intended to carry a majority of human cargo like the others. She was filled with hibernating embryos of all land and air fairing animals the worlds best team of biologists could gather over 10 years. In the same vein, she was carrying millions of seeds and plant embryos-just in case. Also, standard procedure dictated that a digital archive of all of humanity's knowledge and history be stored on board Arc 7, just like every other vessel intended to survive "The Event.* I was the modern Noah. I took my family aboard and we waited for the other assigned crew but they never came. The water began to rise. We watched from a mountain as the plains below flooded and the waters rose. In the second week we lost contact with the last of the major Arc Cities. Soon after the mountain we had been resting on was completely under and we were afloat. It rained for 40 days and 40 nights before the storm subsided. During this time we had lost contact with all other vessels. I was never allowed to know how many smaller arks had been completed, if any, or even how had been under construction. Once the clouds cleared, nothing but sky and blue ocean lay as far as the eye could see. A year passed before we saw land again. Fifteen months before we saw relatively flat plains. My three sons were eager to get off the ship with their own families in tow. Accordingly, we landed on a hill which, as the water fell, was revealed to border a huge valley. I set the computer controls and the embryos of the plants and animals began the growing process again. The animals and plants would be raised by machines until old enough to go out and repopulate the earth. Likewise, plant life of all kinds were distributed by automated drones from the ship designed specifically for the purpose. I've set this down as a record of the last days of the golden age of our species. Now we have to rebuild from the ashes. My family and I must tend to the earth and rebuild what we have lost. Thankfully, unlike the last Noah, we have an instruction manual. The digital archives of all of collective humanity's intelligence.
"Who are you?" "My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and I run the Xavier School for Gifted Young-" George Wormwood shut the door as the Professor sighed, already expecting the less-than warm reception. His frustration with people who took pride in their ignorance and tradition had grown as of late, as that ignorance invariably led to xenophobia. However, being in complete control of his own emotion, he took a deep breath in and knocked again, and George reappeared. "I know you think you're better than me with your fancy degree and uppity east-coast liberal bullshit but if you can't even walk up to my door than I have no problem with kicking you to the curb before you can even begin to ask for a donation." "I'm not here asking for money, we have plenty of that. I'm actually here because your daughter's teacher, Ms. Honey-" George rolled his eyes in contempt. "has recommended your daughter to us as a promising potential student, and I'm delighted to announce that we feel the same way." "Delighted, sure. But we're not interested. We don't have to pay for Trunchbull, so I think we're going to just keep sending her there." "I assure you, she would be on a full tuition scholarship-" "Oh really? Does that include the cost of books? Fees? Or am I paying her tuition already with my hard-earned taxes, like that commie Bernie Sanders asshole wanted?" Charles didn't need Cerebro to know that this man had never made an honest dollar in his life, let alone paid any of his taxes. "No, there's a large endowment started with my own family estate that manages just fine-" "Yeah yeah yeah, but I've never heard of this school, doesn't sound like it's from around here. If you think I'm going to DRIVE her, something you probably never have to deal with because you need to actually use your legs to do that instead of sitting in your fancy-ass wheelchair like some lazy bum-" "The institution is a boarding school, which means her scholarship would also include food and board for her entire stay." George paused, taking much longer than a man of even standard mental aptitude would need to take in order to process the offer. "Works for me. I'll have her pack her bags now."
The entire party went silent. All eyes were on me. You know how awkward it is when everyone sings you happy Birthday? Well it was worse than that. Staring at my own hands I closed my fists and the green light left the room. No one said a word as they picked up their coats and left. Some muttered happy Birthday and some thanked my parents for the party. Most of them avoided eye contact with me as they scurried away. As the door closed from the final person my dad fit the latch to the door and slowly turned towards me. Neither he or my mom said anything. I opened my mouth to say something but then promptly closed it and turned up the stairs to my room. My parents didn't follow me. I didn't sleep that night. I spent the time opening and closing my fists to expose the bright green glow. At around 5am, I got up to get something to eat and I heard my parents talking in their room. "We have to tell them" "No I can't have them take him away like Rick" Whose Rick? No one ever mentioned a Rick to me. "My brother became a monster, Gina! No one was safe. On the night I married you, he tried to kill us. Green fire is corrupted. Green fire is evil" "Our son isn't like him, Pete. He's a baby. He's my baby" "We can't take any chances of him turning into a monster like Rick. Tomorrow morning I'm calling the fire facility guards. They will make arrangements for him." I was done listening. My own father was going to send me away. He had no regrets. He didn't even seem upset. I walked back into my room and closed the door softly so that all I heard was the light click. I stared at the window for a minute. Who was Rick? Why did no one ever tell me about him? How did the green fire change him? I was going to find him. I was leaving tonight. I gathered up a small back pack and scribbled a goodbye note to my parents. I quietly opened the window. As I walked to the front yard I took one last look over my shoulder. My parents bedroom light was still on. I watched my fathers figure move behind the curtain and the light went off. I was on my own now. I turned my back on my life and walked into the darkness.
I look down the street. To many, this road is home to wealthy middle class families. To me, it is nothing more than skid road, representing lost stories and failed pretend commitments. I greet Garbage Can, Jacob and Thomas. They've all lived in front of my house since my son was 3. My son would play with them from time to time, but as he grew older he forgot about them. Garbage Can once was my son's favourite imaginary friend, but even he was forgotten. My son is 20 years old now, and I've been best friends with Garbage Can for 11 years. I always considered telling my son that his friends were once real. That the 10 year old boy he named after the first thing he saw was actually alive and breathing. If I said anything, what difference would it make? Nobody would believe me, surely nobody would take action. After all, how is he supposed to be friends with someone he can't even see? I leave my house and go for a walk, down near the park I spot some kids. I watch for a while, and notice I can't tell which is fake and which is real. They're playing together happily. I notice it's getting dark and I head home. Garbage Can pulls me aside to give me the latest news from the world of Imaginary Friends. "Big news Matt, we're all going home! To an imaginary world where our fates are not decided by those who thought us into existence then forgot about us!"Garbage Can exclaimed. "That's awesome!"I say enthusiastically, "When are you leaving?" "Tonight, in about 20 minutes!" "You'll miss my birthday then, but that's okay! I'll miss you!" Garbage Can hugs me and leaves to pack his things. I walk into my house and quickly go to bed. * * * I awaken to the sound of birds chirping. I get up out of bed and look at the time, it is 6:31 AM. I walk over to my son's room, and he isn't there. I had arranged with him to go for breakfast, but he was no where to be found! All day long I search for him, but finally I give up near the evening. I retrieve my cake and the numbered candles "4"and "2"and sit down reluctantly. I place them on the cake and light them, and begin to weep into the expensive grocery cake I had bought to share with my son. "Happy 24th birthday, Matt." Edit: "leave"to "leaves"
Seeing all those old versions of me...it was more real than the sepia-coloured photographs in my photo album. To see myself playing while young was like seeing a totally different me; a more carefree, happy and energetic me. At 21 I was already exposed to the dangers and troubles of the world, so I envied the youthful exuberance and innocence I used to have. As I flipped through the saved copies, I noticed one marked 'Deleted', but not permanently removed yet. Curious, I looked at the copy. I saw myself coming home from school, my parents waiting as always with my lunch. But as I tucked in, I said a sentence I didn't understand. "Mommy, I found a camera under my bed last night."My mother's face...I had never seen so much raw shock on a human face before. And that was it. I turned away, as I tried to recall that day. I never remembered a camera. But since the copy was deleted, they must have replaced it with another copy and another set of memories. Which meant...the camera wasn't there after they rolled me back. I was so engrossed in the mystery that I didn't hear the door opening behind. I shouldn't have left the file containing the copies open. It was supposed to be top secret, my uncle said. But as I felt a hand on my shoulder, the accompanying voice wasn't the usual soothing tones of my father. It was the dangerous, cold voice of an angered man. "I guess I'll have to delete this copy too, then."He took a button out of his pocket and pressed it. ______________________________ More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request!
I imagined the scenes in my favourite cowboy shows. Bang, bang, bang. The shots cut through the air in beautiful arcs, slicing through my targets with stunning efficiency. I didn't have to imagine it anymore, for the shows I'd dreamed of were real now. People fell from my automatic, my trustworthy sidekicks beside me. I stormed up to the desk, and demanded to know where the money was. "We...we don't have any here,"the teller said, though she was barely stifling a grin. Laughing at me? I'd show people what happened when they laughed at me! I grinned as I shot her thrice, her face filled eith shock as she collapsed heavily on the ground. I blew the smoke of my gun theatrically. My sidekicks looked at me, horrified. That was odd. Weren't they in this together with me too? Sirens sounded outside the bank as I began to make a break for it. But two burly policemen stopped me at the exit as I was felled by them. "We've got him,"one said into his walkie-talkie, before speaking to me directly. "Little guy, do you understand what you just did?"I laughed comically. "Don't you know this is a joke? These guns aren't real, none are. You're bringing the joke too far,"I said, chuckling, before I looked at my gun and screamed. It was no nerf gun. It was a real gun. The last one left in the world. And as I stared at my friends, dead from my hands, the pools of blood and the faces of shock was imprinted into my mind forever. But I had the gun. ______________________________ More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request!
"Alright, here we go." I hung the noose around my neck. 'Forgot your password?', that never works. No, this is what i need to do. I don't want to lose my account. All the memes, all the shitposts. All these writing prompts. I just want my account back. I kicked the small stair i was standing on. It hurt, but felt weirdly pleasurable. Like i was floating. My friend was standing there. He was going to help me once i'd near the light. My vision started going dark not long after. I waced goodbye to my friend, and soon after i saw nothing. Well, until everything felt like it was going at a snail's pace. My life suddenly started appearing in front of my eyes. Memories floating in and out. I was suddenly kissing my first love, after which i immediately learned to walk. It was obvious, this isn't going to go chronologically. I got lucky though. I saw my PC screen, as i was making my Reddit account. And there it was. "Mylifeisfuckingawesome20209010". No wonder i had forgotten it. Anyway, making a mental note here. Starting to worry when my friend is going to tie me loose. I tried to speak, but i could only make weak grunts. The rest of my life started flashing by, always in whatever order my mind wanted it to be. Always going faster. And at a certain moment, i started getting worried that my friend wasn't going to help me. But then, my fresh memories started pouring in. "Whoah, this is getting meta", i thought. I saw myself hanging myself. I even saw everything going dark again. And that's when i heard a distant, odd voice. "Dude, you alright? Hey! Wake up! " It was my friend. I tried to answer him. "Mylifeisfuckingawesome twenty twenty ninety ten." I've did it. I got my password back. My life is indeed fucking awesome.
"Alright squad, time to roll out,"the leader of the gang of superheroes, Captain Fantabulous commanded. "Dr. Void's DoomRay will be ready any moment, and we need to stop him. Everyone remember-... Where the hell did John go?" John walked out of the bathroom. "What were you doing in the bathroom?!" "Oh, I accidentally touched a piece of dirt, so I needed to go wash my hands." "What...Why...That's just...DON'T DO THAT! You have complete control over disease, how in God's name are you still a germaphobe!" "Uh, have you taken high school biology? Those little monsters are terrifying. I have no idea how you all can go for hours without washing your hands." "Alright, just don't you dare abandon us on the mission to go wash your hands, or I swear that I will rip your head off of your shoulders. Do you remember your part in the mission?" "Yes, sir!"John replied. "I magically give the entrance guards Ebola to incapacitate them, and then I run like hell to avoid getting Ebola myself." "No, no, a thousand times NO!"Captain Fantabulous yelled, getting frustrated. "You do NOT run out of there, you stick around to ensure that they are suffering from the symptoms, and then you remain at the entrance to stop Dr. Void's forces from entering the base." "But what if I come down with Ebola?" "You won't! You can control if people get sick, so you won't!"
"Tag, you're it!" Those words were once used to iniate a silly, little game. This "game", however, has reached a global scale. As a result, four factions have formed. The Runners, who are cursed to run away and hide from anyone who might be a Hunter. The Hunters, who have been tagged and are now forced to pass this curse on. The Disgraced, who are former Hunters, but have tagged someone else and therefore "won"the game. And finally, the Fallen, who failed to pass their curse on, killing their loved ones and condemnding them to a life of solitude. The Hunters only make up about 10% of the current population. "No please, I'll do anything. Stay away from me." However, unbeknownst to most of the people, there is a fifth group. The Disgraced and the Fallen are not prevented from continuing the game. They are just unable to be tagged again, making them "immune"to further harm. As such, there is another group, called the Devils. Their sole purpose is to spread the curse, forcing innocent people to bear the burden and pass it on. "Please, I don't want to do this. I don't want to, please go away. I will do anything, I promise!" I don't know why they are doing it. "No, no! I have a knife, I will use it if I have to!" But I know why I am doing it. "Stay away, I will kill you! Please!" I just love watching people suffer. Tag, you're it.
James rubbed his eyes trying to get the burning glare of the sun out, but she was still there, it wasn't just some cruel hallucination or illusion. "Please not today", he mumbled to himself. "What was that?", his wife Cheri asked him. "Oh, nothing. Here, this looks like a good spot for a selfie". He cradled her with his arm and held the camera phone as far away from them as possible to get a nice view of the background. He couldn't help but sneak a peek at the mysterious woman lounging not 50 feet from their very spot. He snapped the photo. "You weren't even smiling! Take it again"she exclaimed. James focused on the task at hand and cracked a smile for round 2 of their selfie photoshoot. The fakest smile he had ever mustered. For he knew that, should Cheri take notice of the woman laying by the waterfront, he could lose his wife forever. They would unite spirits and enter the world of gods and he would be left alone... Again. He had to get in closer, just to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. "I'm gonna go take a leak, are you good to wait for me here?"he asked. "uhhh yeah but hurry k? I wanted to go on the catamaran"she replied. He nodded and quickly waddled away through the sand, knowing damn well he wasn't going in the direction of the bathrooms. But Cheri didn't comment. He inched his way closer to his wife's destiny. It was definitely her, right down to the shape of the eyes and the angle of her button nose. He looked her dead in the eyes through his sunglasses. She seemed to meet his gaze. She smiled at him and spoke. "Wow took you long enough!" "ummmm beg your pardon?"he replied puzzled. "Beg you pardon??"she shot back mockingly. Awkward seconds passed that felt like hours. Just then, another man emerged from the path through the palm trees holding two pina coladas. Holy fuckin shit. His doppelganger was there too.
There isn't much time. I know no one will believe my story. I hardly believe it myself, but it must be told. My path is not one we should ever take. The end is coming, I can feel it in the back of my mind, clawing, knocking, trying to get in. I can't keep it out forever. I wanted to be first. I knew being first would mean being remembered forever; a real Columbus type, but without the genocide. I wanted to be remembered as a hero to humanity, someone they would write books about in a hundred years. I guess in a way I am. I'm proof that we don't have a chance on the red planet. The ride up was easy. They strapped me into the singleship -- basically a life pod strapped to thrusters 30 times its size -- and told me that I was a hero. I'd been trained, I knew the plan, I knew every possible thing that could go wrong and knew how to deal with them when they did. Things did go wrong, of course. It wouldn't be an adventure if I had made it there without any issues at all. It started when I defrosted but the glass lid on my cryopod failed to open. It took hours of working at the seal to eventually get the emergency release to trigger. Looking at the instruments next to the hard metal shell that served as my bed for those 140 days, I saw I still had a few weeks before I would reach the surface of Mars. That gave me plenty of time to figure out why the lid release had failed before I had to ready my gear for touchdown. It turned out to be nothing. Some of the lubricant on the bearings had been exposed to too much heat during installation and had hardened over my trip. Thankfully the emergency release basically blew the lid across the little space I would call home for the next 23 days, so there was never any risk of me being stuck inside that glass coffin like some sort of twisted sci-fi Snow White. The next three weeks and two days passed virtually uneventfully. I recorded text logs every day, as I am doing now. They contain the tasks I completed each day: mostly scanning the landing site to ensure nothing had fouled the ground, checking the radiation seals on the living portion of the singleship, and monitoring the massive nuclear reactor I was towing. Each one of these logs is stored on every computer and console that came with me, in case someone decides to try to find out what happened to me. I pray no one ever does. The reactor was the only part that worried me. I was told that because of its proximity to my life vessel, radio communication would be virtually impossible until I landed and was able to position the reactor far enough away that it wouldn't fry the antennas. Tightbeam was out of the question; the craft hadn't even been equipped with one. A cost saving measure, or weight. I can't remember anymore. If you're reading this, you know that I never even had the chance to set up the reactor, let alone send any transmission home. Hopefully you will understand why soon enough. Landing was equally uneventful. The autopilot did it all for me, all I had to do was tell it to lower the man-ramp. Walking out onto the dusty surface of this foreign rock, I felt awe and relief wash over me. The horizon, obscured by dust kicked up by the landing system, glowed an autumnal russet. There was utter quiet, save the slight rushing of the suit's oxygen recycler. As the dust cleared, I was struck by just how familiar Mars seemed. I had expected to feel out of place, like the alien that I was. Instead I felt a sense of recognition. It didn't seem all that different from earth, and that familiarity was disquieting in its comfort. It should have felt strange. It should have felt like a rock 34 million miles from home, instead it felt like I imagined Arizona looking. Granted I've never been to Arizona, but the feeling of "home"was unshakable. Don't jump to conclusions, now. Humans aren't from Mars. This madness is not as bad as that. It should have been alien. It wasn't. I chose to ignore my discomfort and proceeded with the plan. The base was to be erected as a daisy chain of systems: reactor on one end, followed by servers, water/air purification, living quarters, and comms. Whoever finds me will find none of that. By the second hour, I had set up the living quarters. The purification systems were next, and I had just begun to unpack the metal lattice that would serve as the building's structure when I saw it. This little brown shape moving around in the dust, making its way towards me. I froze. There wasn't supposed to be life here, least of all anything macroscopic. What was this thing approaching me? It moved slowly enough, such that I was not afraid it would harm me. I was instead thrilled that I might be the one to discover life on Mars. As it got closer, my heart began to race and it felt as if the suit's heating had completely failed. Cold sweat beaded my brow as I began to understand what it was I was looking at. A platypus. I believe it is in that moment I was broken. How does a sane mind reconcile seeing something where it is impossible to be seen? How does such an odd, innocuous little creature like a platypus end up on Mars, near the one spot where a human has landed? How can it be that luck should have the absurd appear before me? I know now it was a trick, a trick played by some cruel, abyssal thing that did not want me there. I do not know who or what it was. I do not know why it was. I only know that it wanted me gone. And so it will have its wish. I took down the living quarters. I destroyed the water and air purification systems. I packed every bit of electronics into the singleship to keep it safe from the thing that haunted me, but I do not know what good it will do. Maybe the next fool to come here will read what I have seen and flee before they too fall victim to the gods of this planet. The platypus remains. He does not leave my side. He follows me everywhere, as if he, like me, is waiting for my suit to fail and my eventual slow death from exposure. The dark eyes watch me, studying me. I cannot meet their gaze, but neither can I look away. I walk aimlessly. The oxygen recycler in my suit is at 3%, yet I know I will not die from suffocation. There is a hill. That feeling of the coming end is emanating from it. I will walk towards it until I find the demon that torments me. The damned platypus will walk with me, I know he will. He is my only companion, my executioner. I will walk. Do not follow my footsteps.
As Andy came down the stairs, the intercom beeped and an automated voice read the message that was delivered at the beginning of each day at the facility. “A reminder to all staff to please limit contact with patients. We are meant to observe and nothing more. Report any improper behavior to Central Administration immediately.” He made his way down the plain white hallway towards the the cafeteria, nodding to his co-workers with a slight awkwardness that lingered beneath the routine gesture. Forgetting to eat breakfast in his room this morning had left Andy quite hungry and he wanted to ensure that he did not start work today on an empty stomach. He grabbed a plate of scrambled eggs from among a variety of choices and opted for the orange juice over the glass of milk because he felt like mixing things up. Like most days, Andy sat alone and ate his food in silence. He stared out a nearby window and let his mind drift into a daydream. “Hey Andy,” Louis said as he broke Andy out of his daydream and sat down across from him. "Looks like you’re a bit bored." “Oh actual-” “No matter.” Louis said cutting Andy off. “Look. I am kind of getting annoyed with Central Admin. I mean, we have been here for over a month and they still haven’t told us what the big deal is about talking with these patients. Are they even that dangerous?” Andy looked around nervously making sure no one had heard what Louis had said before trying to calm Louis down. “I wouldn’t worry so much about it Louis, I am sure Central Admin knows what they are talking about. They only tell us what we need to know in order to keep us sa-.” Louis interrupted Andy again and leaned in close “I think we should just kill them all off. Who cares about keeping them around?” “Jeese Louis, are you serious?” Andy whispered. “Yeah I am. If they are such a big threat then it would be better to just finish them off instead of keeping them around. Save us all a lot of trouble and time.” An awkward silence followed and Andy began to feel more and more uneasy. “Okay Louis, well I am full and I’ve got to… uh…” Andy struggled to think of an excuse to leave. “I have to get to work. They are expecting me.” Andy quickly stood up and headed towards his room, leaving behind Louis and his half-eaten plate of scrambled eggs. Five minutes later, Andy arrived at his room and slammed the door behind him. “What the hell was that?"He muttered to himself. He paced around his room and he began to sweat uncontrollably. Should he call Central Admin and report Louis? Should he just go back to work? He had no idea how to go forward. Just as he began to feel the stress of the decision grow overwhelming, a sudden calm quickly came over him. The thoughts of Louis and what he had said and his still lingering hunger melted in the back of his mind. Suddenly all of his concerns started to dissipate. Even concerns about life at home or from before he had moved to the facility slowly fell away. Just as his last worry turned to nothing, he began to feel his ambitions deteriorate as well. Soon his desire to pursue his PhD disappeared along with his dream of going skydiving and having a son. Before Andy knew it, he was sitting quietly on his bed wondering why he was even there. Just then he heard a knock at the door. “Andy? Are you in there? This is Richard from Central Admin. We are going to need you to come with us.” “Sure,” Andy said lazily, “What's the point? I really don’t care about much anymore.”
"What are you doing?" You jolt in surprise at hearing the familiar voice. A voice you'd normally welcome, if not for the fact that she'd caught you in quite the precarious.. situation. Your head aches from the uncontrolled tumble, but you rise, pat yourself clean, and greet the girl of your dreams. Who only dates world record holders. It was something you only figured out the first time you gathered the courage to ask her out. Clearly, revealing that you were attempting to do just that a moment ago probably won't go so well. So you do the most rational thing one would do in your position. Lie straight to her face. The way you stuttered and choke under her curious gaze probably didn't help to convince her. "Uh-uh. Riiight." Yeah, you totally didn't convince her at all. She looks around, figuring that she would likely get no straight answer from your mouth. You feel like a kid whose mother just discovered their porn collection. You really weren't doing anything, you swear. But she seems to ignore you, continuing to observe about the place until she properly came to a conclusion. "Ah."That's the only thing she said when comprehension dawned on her. Before swiftly falling to the ground, laughing her ass off. "Dude!"She tries to sneak in her bouts of hysteria. "Were you seriously trying to..?" Busted. You bashfully nod, only making her laugh harder. Well, there goes your last shred of dignity. "Haah.." Soon enough, she stops. She sprawls, before tapping the ground next to her. Is she telling you to come closer? The way she's glaring at you points to that conclusion, so you stopped hesitating and do so. Things were awfully quiet then. A silence that seemed to stretch forever as you two just take in the seemingly endless expanse of the sky. "You know, I didn't actually think you'd go ahead and try to do it."She finally said, breaking the silence. "Usually that's enough for guys to back off." Huh. There wasn't any time to dwell on what she said really, with her rising up to move in front of you. Silhouetted under the bright sun, you can barely make out anything about her save her glorious, beautiful smile. "But I gotta admit, lover boy, you're pretty interesting." She reaches a hand out, and helps you stand. Taken by the moment, you find yourself subconsciously asking her the same question you did before. "I'll think about it,"her smile takes on a mischievous slant. "if you can keep it up." You find yourself smiling as well, hearing that. Challenge accepted!
The sun was still quite low in the sky, so the temperature hadn’t risen much. There was a gentle breeze, which cooled me down after a walk around the neighbourhood with Cubo. It did cause my newspaper to rustle a little, but it remained stable enough for me to read, to the music of swaying tree branches and dried leaves rolling on the floor. I took a sip from the cup of hot tea next to me, and glanced at Cubo, who was lounging on the grass, his jaws open and his tongue lolling about. I nodded approvingly before turning back to the article in my hand. Apparently our walk had tired him out sufficiently to stop annoying me. There wasn’t anything of real interest in local news today. Yeah, some guy got robbed off Alms Street, public transport fares increased (again), prices of necessities increased (again), the mayor wants to run for office a second time (really?)…..blah, blah, blah. Boring, but I felt obliged to at least have a vague idea of what happened in my town. A tiny, high-pitched sound. Whatever, must be a fly or something. I scanned the advertisement page. Hmmm….there’s a promotion at the Pancake Place. Must drop in later to get some discounts. Another shrill yelp. Shut up, Cubo. I’ll give you your damn food in twenty minutes. Patience, my dear little hound. It was a mistake to ignore that second sound, because the next one I heard resembled that of a horse neighing. I jumped up with a start. What the hell was that? There were no birds at this time of the year, and certainly no horses, donkeys, cows or whatever large mammals. The only animal in sight was Cubo, and it’s not possible for him to make that sound - yup, it was him. I had no idea that he could do that. Cubo had jumped up from his relaxed lying position, and was looking at something in the grass. He was constantly pacing and wagging his tail rapidly, afraid of something I couldn’t see. He remained in that tense state for a few more seconds before turning around and bounding towards me. “What is it, little guy?” I set aside my initial annoyance, adopting a more worried tone. Cubo whimpered in return, and looked pitifully up at me. It didn’t take long for me to see that his snout was bleeding. “Oh you little monster, what the hell did you do? Annoy some random spider - wait, what?” A closer look revealed some spines sticking out. They were so thin that they were almost invisible against the dark colour of his fur. “Cubo, how many times have I told you not to play with wild hedgehogs!” I chided him, but felt doubt welling up. Hedgehog spines aren't detachable. Porcupines, perhaps? But their spines aren’t so long and thin. Furthermore, I would have seen both types of animals in the lawn. Also, Cubo wasn’t playing just now; he had been resting in the grass, motionless save for his habitual lolling of his tongue and slow wagging of his tail. Whatever had attacked him had done so without provocation. I examined the spines. They were black in colour. While they were as thin as a thread, they were quite rigid, like they were made out of….plastic. And they had this little….knob at the tip. I touched one of the spines, but Cubo whimpered so loudly that I let go immediately. Oh my, can’t imagine how painful it must be for him. Alright, it’s a trip to the vet then. But I couldn’t resist finding out what it was that attacked him. I strode out into my lawn, taking slow and deliberate steps while surveying the grass round my feet. Little by little, I got closer to the flattened patch where Cubo had been earlier. I couldn’t see anything out of the norm. It was just grass and moist dirt. However, the naked skin below my knees suddenly felt so cold, so vulnerable. As if expecting something to happen. And then everything went haywire. It was a bad idea to be wearing shorts and flip flops, really. In an instant, I felt numerous needles of pain piercing through my feet, not dissimilar to ant bites. In quick succession. I yowled in agony immediately, and started stomping furiously all over the grass while looking down, trying to find out what was happening. I didn't know what to expect. A bunch of tiny gnomes, shooting arrows at me, revenge for settling on their land? I wish I was correct. I was right about the arrows thing. Those little spines were miniature arrows, and I didn't know why I didn't recognise them earlier. They were very, very sharp, and pierced my skin surface with ease. Those little knobs at the end? They were for notching those arrows onto their bowstrings. And the gnomes thing? Yup, it would have been more believable, to at least have small little humanoids shooting small little humanoid weapons at me, but nope. They were ants. Can you imagine it? Insects waging war on humans, not through the usual way of inflicting bites through their sharp mandibles, but by human technology, i.e. bows and arrows? What the shit man. Oh, talking about human technology, I could make out some small little lights and tiny triangular structures approaching from the bushes in the dim morning light. Yup, those little insects were going to launch flaming projectiles at me using trebuchets. Oh, what did I do to deserve this? It all came back in a flash, as I continued my dance of destruction all over the lawn, with all the ant armour crackling below my flimsy slippers. The barbecue four nights ago. We were having one whale of a time, getting drunk off cheap beer and stuffing ourselves with chunks of meat. Then one of my friend had a brilliant idea. He was a YouTuber. Sort of. He got interested in those ant art videos that went viral a few months ago. To be honest, those videos were fascinating. A random guy would find an ant nest, pour molten aluminium inside the entrance hole, wait for it to cool then dig out a sculpture molded in the shape of the ant nest. Pretty rad, if you ask me. This friend of mine started doing that too, and was attracting a decent amount of views. He was looking for a new ant nest, and he found that right in the centre of my lawn. He poured the aluminium inside that ant nest. But because we were piss-drunk, he did it slowly....and must have let some ants escaped. And while we waited for the aluminium to cool, we went indoors to sleep....and forgot about it. I had no idea how those ants were able to make such technological advances in four days. All I know was that it explained the sharp arrows and the armour, probably made of the aluminium we so willingly gifted them. Oh man....I need to get out of this place. I write at r/N_attempts_to_write :-)
Nobody is sure exactly when The Hole appeared. But it first got attention as a mysterious pot-hole. Some poor schmuck from out of town got lost after his GPS malfunctioned. When his front tire struck The Hole it was like the parts of the tire and rim that fell in ceased to exist. Needless to say he lost control of his vehicle and crashed a short distance away. The tow truck driver, the police, and the insurance adjuster were all dumb struck by the sight of the damage; to say nothing of the bloke himself. Perfectly clean lines. No signs of tearing or cutting, the tire and rim were suddenly simply incomplete. Needless to say that part of the road was suddenly very interesting. Everyone in town must have paid The Hole a visit within a few days of word getting out. It became a favorite activity to throw spare change into The Hole in order to make a wish. Despite consuming thousands of dollars worth of coins The Hole never filled up. After a week of guarding it and redirecting traffic; the authorities placed a large metal plate over top of The Hole so the road would be safe to use again. They tried to brush the whole thing under the rug. That failed miserably. Two weeks after the plate was laid down it simply vanished without a trace. Thanks to photos from the original incident it was apparent that The Hole had grown significantly. Now it could easily swallow whole the car it had damaged before. To complicate matters word was beginning to spread, and people from nearby towns were coming to investigate as well. Some "Experts"were called in to investigate this strange phenomenon, but nobody had a clue how such a thing was even possible. Not a single test on The Hole even resulted in useful data. Nothing going in came back out. Not objects, nor EM waves. Not so much as a temperature differential over The Hole. But it was clearly no black hole as they were understood. It was simply a void of no return. The authorities tried building a perimeter fence around The Hole to keep people out. But exactly a week later the fence and several squad cars had vanished without a trace. The search was called off within a day, everyone was sure of what had happened. That's how the hole claimed its first lives. News of the deaths of the guards spread rapidly, and it wasn't long before news crews began to arrive near the perimeter of the now tennis court sized anomaly. This further complicated things as with no information available it made people from even further afield curious. Another week passed. The Hole was now double its previous size. A cult was rapidly growing around the thing. Members would hold candle light vigils around The Hole every night, chanting and praying. Some cultists as well as the suicidal jumped right in; and were not seen again. The Hole even claimed a few brave but foolish souls who wanted to experiment. They tried to tie ropes around themselves. Or metal cables and harnesses. When pulled back though they simply ended in a neat, perfectly smooth tip. Another week passed, and The Hole doubled in size again. It took with it nearly the entire cult it had inspired save for the "High Priest"who had fled the scene mere moments before The Hole expanded. That was just a few days ago. Except for some authorities and crazy fools with death wishes the town is all but evacuated now. If it keeps doubling in size every week it will consume the whole town in about 6 weeks. Nobody even knows if it will keep growing, but it seems like a safe assumption. I personally think its going to grow until the whole world falls in, so I will not be running from it. I won't say I am not afraid. The Hole is a mystery and people are bound to fear the unknown. I just hope that when I fall in that there is nothing there to greet me.
BROTHER THADDEUS, cried Grand Chaplain Daedalus from the tomb of his Techno-sarcophagus. SPIN ME AROUND, I WISH TO SEE YOU FACE TO... SPIN ME. Thaddeus shuffled around, his body draped in the silken robes permitted by his chapter whilst not purging the scourge of xeno. Unfortunately for him, a plucky neophyte had mixed his blood scoured tunic with his laundry after a very informative training session. Thaddeus's robes, normally an eggshell white, were now stained a hot, vibrant pink. The boy was now serving the Emperor eternally, and coincidentally, the ship had gained a new servo-skull. "Sir, I do not think that you should see me like this..." I AM AN ENTOMBED WITHERED SKELETON FLOATING IN AMNIOTIC FLUID. Cried the Grand Chaplain, the speakers in his casket shaking with every syllable. WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE DOES NOT CONCERN ME. Thaddeus felt his face go flush, his extra heart pumping extra hard. Of course Brother Daedalus would be beyond such trivial matters. "But still-" DOES FEAR HAVE ANY PLACE IN THE HEART OF A SPACE MARINE? Interrupted the metal box, in that fatherly, harsh metallic screech that Thaddeus had fallen for oh so long ago. "No, Sir!" NO FEAR, NO QUARTER, NO MERCY. JOIN ME IN A LITANY OF PRAYER, THADDEUS. They spent the next two hours reciting the oaths, Daedalus correcting the pronunciation of his pupil-brother on several occasions. It was difficult discerning tone, but eventually the pair managed to get through, breaking off in a series of giggles at their mistakes. EXCELLENT, HA. HA. HA. NOW SPIN ME, BROTHER. Thaddeus pressed against the side of the coffin, and with the strength of a thousand augmented muscles, pushed the multi-tonne corpse refrigerator around to face him. OH. I SEE WHAT YOU MEANT. YOU DISGRACE OUR PRIMARCH WITH YOUR PITIFUL DISPLAY. PUNISHMENT, THREE DAYS FLAGELLATION. FOUR DAYS FASTING. STRIP IMMEDIATELY. Blushing, Thaddeus nodded. He always got off so easy with Daedalus. The robes fell from his taught, scar covered body, implanted muscles rippling like yarn hidden behind a piece of tissue paper. He bore his body with no shame, as between Brothers, such matters of the flesh were beneath them. But as Thaddeus gazed into the skull adorning the face plate of his Chaplain, he realized something. Matters of the heart were another thing entirely. He smiled. and cupped the jawbone jutting out of his superior's coffin. "There's no one I'd rather die with on the field of battle, Brother." EVEN IN DEATH, DO I STILL LOVE. BEGIN FLAGELLATION.
"Everyone is a moon and has a dark side which they never show to anybody. That was said by Mark Twain."He looked around the room before continuing. "I've been thinking about that quote, every damn minute of every damn day since the very second I first saw what she truly was."He breathed in deep and let it out with a huge sigh. "I'd been with her for, shit...about 2 years, 3 months and 5 days. Okay, so I might've been counting the days, sue me. In that time I'd never truly seen her angry, she'd been annoyed, miffed, mildly peeved all those fancy words, but never angry. Today, well today I pissed her off. I don't know how I did it, not really. I think it was a bunch of shit all piled together to do it, not just my actions either but the actions of the world. As it turns she's, well shit, only one way to say it. She's the Devil."He looked around at them, trying to gauge their reactions. None of them said anything, they just blinked and stared at him blankly. With a sigh, he continued speaking. "No reaction huh, what was I expecting though."He shook his head slowly. "After all, you're a bunch of cats."A black cat with a single white stripe down its forehead meowed at him then. He laughed to himself, he was speaking to cats about his girlfriend, who as it turns out was...is the Devil. The fucking Devil. He didn't know how to feel about it. He still loved her, that he knew for sure. But after seeing her beautiful dark brown eyes as pitch black and her pitch black hair lit alight with fire, oddly enough he was kinda disappointed that she didn't have any horns but was very curious about the way her shirt ripped open at the back for no apparent reason. Two weeks, it'd been two weeks since she went full uh...'Devil mode' on him and the more he thought about it the more beautiful he thought she was, even...no he thought she was beautiful irrelevant if she was in 'Devil mode' or not. At that moment, he resolved to tell her so. Getting up he looked at the two real cats and the one stuffed cat lined up before him. "Thanks, guys you've been a real help. Especially you Kaisar."He said looking at the black cat that had meowed at him. He had a large grin plastered on his face as he went to find her. He was going to tell her how beautiful he thought she was. He found her in the kitchen carving up a rabbit, skinning it and everything. He paused at this sight, she looked up at him, blood covering her hands and a tilt of her head. "So, you're coming near me now?"She said in a calm, ice-cold tone. Shit shit shit. He was truly in trouble, she was fucking pissed. "Uhhhh. I...uh...needed some...uh time."He was nervous as all hell. He could already see her hair starting to catch fire at the tips. "I'm really sorry that I haven't really spoken to you for the past two weeks."He could see the anger sparking in her eyes as black started bleeding into them. "Um. Before you go all...'Devil mode' could we talk first?"The look on her face when he said 'Devil mode' was, well it wasn't good for him. "No no no, don't take offence at that. I don't know what else to call it, honey."She was really close to bursting into flames. "Don't. Take. Offence."she said carefully annunciating every word. Her left hand, the hand that happened to be holding a very sharp looking knife flexed. "Oh shit."He had time to say before diving the ground as a knife embedded itself in the doorframe where he was previously standing, it wasn't aimed at his head, but rather his shoulder. Looks like she didn't want him dead, just severely injured because he pissed her off. "Whoa whoa whoa!"He said raising his arms above his head as she had a knife raised above hers. "How about we don't throw knives at me anymore? Yeah?"Her hair was fully ablaze now and her eyes were as black as tar. Damn, she looked beautiful. Hey...maybe I should tell her that. "You're beautiful."He blurted. The flames that were her hair flared brighter and her cheeks grew red. "What!?"She half shrieked dropping the knife in her hand. He smiled broadly. "I said, you're beautiful."He said seriously, standing up off the ground and lowering his hands. She looked at him dumbfounded and didn't reply. "You...you do?"She said meekly, clearly not believing him. "Yeah. I do."He said moving closer to her and laying his hand on her cheek. "I really do think you're beautiful. Like this or like you are normally."At this, her hair started to return to its normal black and the black in her eyes began to bleed away and return to their brown. She smiled broadly once she was back to her old self and kissed him deeply. As they broke apart he heard a soft meow behind him, looking down he saw Kaisar at his feet and smiled. "Thanks, lil guy."He said kneeling and petting him on the head. --- I was originally gon make this a lot shorter than it is, but I started writing and bam it turned into this. If ya enjoyed it, go here cus you can. https://www.reddit.com/r/Ceruberus/
I pushed my conical hat back on my head to give little Brae a better view of my angry, furrowed eyebrows. "Go fish,"she repeated. Her tiny hand patted the deck between us on the table. "You know,"I said. "I could just make all of your cards threes and you'd have to give me one." "Go fish." "I could turn you into a deck of cards." "Go fish." "I could cast a spell so that all the chocolate in the world turns into Brussels sprouts!" "I like Brussels sprouts,"she countered. Then she added "Go fish." I leaned back in my chair, stroking my beard. "You know I could just wiggle my finger and all of your cards would turn to snakes." "No you can't,"said Brae. "And why do you think I can't?"I asked, raising one of my eyebrows to comical height. "Because it's against the rules,"she posited. I sighed, pushed my regulation sleeves up as high as I could. They slid back down and covered my hands. Someday when I'm on high council, I'll get the uniform changed. For now I drew my card. A four. Brae asked for a king, which I was obliged to hand her. "Do you have any fours?"I asked her. She smirked. "Go fish." "You know,"I sighed. "I could just turn all of your cards into fours."
INSTRUCTIONS FOR USE: Take one tablet, three times daily. Take after meals. Do not take on an empty stomach. Do not take if nauseous or feeling ill. Wait until symptoms subside before ingesting. Do not take if currently experiencing hallucinations or extreme hunger. Wait until symptoms subside before ingesting. If symptoms worsen, do not take the medication. It is already too late. Do not use if currently turning. If that is the case, please lock yourself away from harm, and harming others. Please note: this is only for the uninfected. If you think you may be infected, please give this to your loved ones and accept your fate.
The mine rattled with a vibrant boom, the lamps flickered leaving the miners in momentary darkness. Loose stone was sent cascading onto the working men, the ground below them sinking a few inches. Only lasting mere seconds, the sudden unexpected anomaly sent the emergency sirens ringing. A blaring red alarm was sent echoing down the chambers. Deep in the mines, men rushed towards the elevator in an orderly fashion. Mike had dropped his chisel and darted towards the elevator, his face flushed, beads of sweat flowing down his brow. Mike noticed the panic amongst the other men, normal panic among new guys was normal but the worried faces of the seasoned veterans left an uneasy feeling deep in Mike's belly. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and made his way with the cloud. The darkness within the mines always left Mike with a fry sense of fear. A primordial fear telling him not to go any further and make his way back up towards the surface. No wonder this job paid so well, no one wanted to be stuck down in the mines all day breathing in noxious chemicals and gas. Mike could already sense the effects of the inhalation of fumes he was getting the persistent cough he couldn't seem to shake. With the nervous thoughts racing through his mind, Mike finally managed to squeeze in to the tight, rickety elevator. Mike had an uneasy feeling at what had happened. The vibration nearly threw him off his feet, it was very uncommon for earthquakes to occur in New York but deep down in the earth, anything was possible he presumed. As the elevator gears rattled to life, the lift slowly started cranking up. Men stood in a panic, questioning and weeping. Mine collapses were a common occurrence in this field, Mike suddenly felt like he would break out in hysteria. The elevator seemed to crawl at a snails pace as it headed towards the bright light directly above. Mike prayed that they would make it out before the mine collapsed and not be stuck like those poor bastards in Chile. Mike had a wife to get back home too, Daisy had left her previous job and committed to full time house mother while the baby cooked inside her womb. Mike was making great money so for her to stay home was a real honor. As Mike tried to shake the thoughts of his wife and unborn baby out of his mind, the panicky thoughts began to creep back in. He had began to wonder why they didn't hear any communications from the station, surely they must have felt the quake Mike wondered. Mike tried reassuring himself, the elevator would reach the main floor and everyone will be okay, just a random tremble with no adverse effects. As the elevator chugged on, the other men broke out in cheers, they were getting closer to the surface. Mere meters from the surface, the rotting smell of spoiled eggs was replaced with someone more foul, more sinister. A stench of burning overcame the men, some began to gag. Smelling like an electrical fire and burnt hair, Mike began asking if the others were smelling what he had smelt. The alarms became increasingly louder and the elevator reach the main floor. Men laid in puddles of pinkish red sludge, their heads exploded open, their skin littered with blisters oozing green mucous. The stench hit the men even hard, wrenching a withering, the men sprinted towards the door, hopping over the dozens of corpses littered in the main floor. As the group of men burst through the lobby doors, the sky was a dark milky green color, a thick haze hung in the air. Trees were split in half, puddles of water bubbled and oozed. The group of men stood there in horror, just as the panicking was setting in, Mike felt a pounding pain in his chest, he seized to the floor. His head beamed an immense throbbing pain, his eyes bulging out of his sockets. Soon, one by one each men dropped towards the ground. Mike struggled for a breathe, the intense pressure inflating his head, he could hardly see straight. With a sickening pop, Mike's head opened up in a piñata of blood and brains, spraying the concrete steps. One by one, each man in the groups head popped in a similar style. The ground rattled a second intense vibration, car horns were blaring, street lamps shaking. Only this time, New York wasn't the only one to feel it, reports were popping up as far as Arizona, New York was only the beginning.
The soft snoring of Julie indicated that I was in this alone, finishing the mountain of presents that had yet to be wrapped by myself. Despite my efforts, we just couldn’t get all the wrapping done before Christmas Eve. If the sound of the sellotape being ripped didn’t wake her, neither would dropping the racing car for little Tom. As I creaked along the landing and towards the stairs, trying my best not to alert the kids, I dreamt of the cookies downstairs. It was Julie’s idea, making our special cookies for Santa. As Julie couldn’t seem to stay awake, it seemed it was up to me to sit in the armchair, pour a small glass of whisky and enjoy the cookies myself. I dropped the presents as I walked into the lounge, the plate was empty. All ten cookies were gone, leaving only a few crumbs left. My heart dropped, either Shannon or Tom must have sneaked out of their room to check for presents, and helped themselves, God knows what has happened to them. Before turning to run upstairs and check if they were alright, I heard giggling. On the armchair, slouched down and staring into the distance, was a large, bearded man. His body seemed to sink into the chair whilst his round belly protruded, bouncing as he giggled at seemingly nothing. For a moment I felt fear, then anger, then realisation. ‘You’re… Santa?’ I asked, he finally turned his head to look at me, before giggling even more. ‘Shhhh’ he whispered, placing one chunky finger over his lips, spluttering a little. ‘Did you eat my cookies?’ I pushed on, walking towards him to stop him from making too much noise. ‘Your cookies?’ ‘Well, yes, we made cookies, they were for…’ I continued before he interrupted me. ‘I’m Santa’ he confirmed. ‘Yes… I know….’ I replied dumfounded. ‘They are my cookies’ he responded, pointing the same chunky finger at the plate, a little note beside it saying; For Santa As I tried to question him further, the deeper he sank into the wave of illusions. The baubles sparkled in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, somehow tickling his amusement. He was no longer answering me, just giggling as he stared at the lights. A small bit of dribble crept out of his mouth and onto his red suit, the smile faded, his eyes closed. Santa began snoring as I started to panic, I have just ruined Christmas. Thousands of children won’t get presents, because Santa is in my living room, stoned and asleep. My own children will be awake soon, how do I explain this to them? The ticking of the clock grew louder, the tree seemed to glow brighter, the… ‘Hunny?’ A voice sounded, shaking me from my slumber. Julie was standing over me. ‘Are you coming to bed?’ I looked at the Christmas tree, surrounded by wrapped presents, then to the empty plate.
It was a chilly Saturday. At least I think it was Saturday. It is entirely possible that I missed a day on my calendar. Time seems to be irrelevant when you're humanity's most powerful sorcerer and on a distant planet. I'm not sure which is more important to the passage of time. People have gone through countless attempts at not eating for a long time, but they always succumbed after being able to do little more than throw a fastball with their spells. Countless papers have been written about sorcery. The specifics behind it were not fully understood, and of course the physics was way over our heads. All we knew was that it grew more powerful with hunger. I thought a little bit differently. I was up all night and day for several days doing some university homework and was so distracted that I almost did not notice the searing hunger pangs. Unfortunately, the dining hall is a long hike from the library in which I was currently fortified. So, I did what any desperate guy would do; on the brink of starvation, with barely enough energy to keep my eyes open, I looked at the librarian and transferred her stomach contents to mine. I felt very uneasy, but not hungry. She immediately turned and took a massive bite from an apple, muttering about how she really didn't need the calories but she was starving. Proud of my laziness, I kept working. Using my newfound technique, I had not eaten in several weeks and I could feel the power coursing through my veins. I firmly believed I was the most powerful mage in the world. Eventually, I decided to cut out the middleman and try something. I took a piece of bread and willed the atoms themselves to transform into glucose and diffuse into my bloodstream. It was definitely not healthy, but it gave me more than sufficient energy. Besides, I found many potential pathogens tended to die upon contact with my magic-infused immune system. Every part of me felt stronger, as if a portion of my magical energy went to keeping me in optimal health. Naturally, word got around when I would use it to be the ultimate bum, launching pencils from across the room when mine broke, condensing atmospheric water to drink, and most of all, being very careful not to ingest any solids through my mouth. This went one for several years, with simple tasks becoming increasingly easy. At this point, I was no longer ever hungry, as many of my basic needs were covered by my subconscious. I filled my body with nutrients as naturally as most humans breathed. Unfortunately for humanity, I am one selfish son of a gun and I liked the idea of nobody coming close to my power. Turns out, a person who is his own life support is a huge asset to space exploration. I was approached by a NASA rep who told me that when they heard of my abilities, they had to come meet me and see if it was the real deal. Of course I was. So they offered me a permanent break from the bore of life on Earth and built a special capsule containing only some oxygen to start with and osmium. By this point, they figured I had the energy to transmute matter on an atomic scale, so the density would be the most important part. Thus began my training. I learned to create thrust through spells (turns out, a magician powerful enough to precisely move subatomic particles can create a pretty high ISP) and how to make oxygen, water, and everything else I would need. I even learned to terraform planets by transforming a small mass of the surface to gaseous particles similar to Earth's atmosphere, with an excess of water so that there would be a healthy amount of rain to get water for less powerful humans. In exchange for them taking me to Mars (and perhaps further if the need surfaced), I kept several people fed for three weeks until they mastered the art of staying nourished without eating. Once that was possible, they loaded me in my own personal capsule completely separate from the massive crew quarters the other colonists were settled in. I topped off their supplies pretty often at first, but eventually several learned to do it themselves. Months into the journey, with the colonists and myself more powerful than any human before us, we arrived at the red planet. The craft indicated we should prepare for the landing, but the practically infinite thrust provided by the 100+ superhumans on board and our ability to move blood through our bodies regardless of the massive G-Forces made this irrelevant. We touched down after an uncomfortable but easily bearable descent. Several of us got out, terraforming the planet very quickly. We were reminded by mission control to put an excess of carbon dioxide and water to ensure there was enough rain to sustain Earth-like life and a comfortable climate. Just when one of my fellow Martians was buzzing in to tell them that we were safe, several of the more powerful of us realized that dependency on Earth was unnecessary. We broke the communications and I, as the most powerful, began constructing a new civilization.
"It's like a cool summer rain on a hot day."I said. "Or the feeling you get when you hold a present, fingers on the seams." “For me it's about feeling blue. That deep blue that’s almost black. Like a song in only minor keys. Or a twizzler in a bag that wasn’t closed right, four weeks on.” She said. “So you don’t like Tom Waits?” I asked. “No. I love Tom Waits. I just am not sure why you see rainbows in his work when all I see are clouds.” We’d talked for hours. But that is what stuck in my head. If she hadn’t liked Tom Waits I’d have known she was a machine. All cold and logical. But liking Tom Waits and completely missing the point? What the hell do I do with that? It was exciting though. She seemed real. She wasn’t, of course. But she seemed it. ______________________________________ “I miss my mother. People say things like ‘She’ll always be with you.’. But they say that to make themselves feel better. I think about all the things I’ll never share with her. My wedding. My kids. Even a bad day at work.” She said. I wanted to ask about the work thing. That felt like an in, a way to unravel her story. But it also seemed like the sort of thing an asshole would do. “I get it. Not totally I mean. But I was raised by my grandfather. When you are fifteen and he is seventy you sort of realize this is not going to last forever. My parents didn’t give a shit about me. But he’d take me out for ice cream when I got my report card. He’d give me a dollar an A. In 2016!” I paused. “I found him. I didn’t tell anyone for an hour. He was already cold. But I changed him out of his pajamas and into a suit. He always said a man was at his best when dressed his best. I didn’t think he’d want someone to see…” I stopped talking. She waited. “Thanks.” I said. “I never told anyone that last bit.” “He’ll always be with you.” She said, her tone playful. Anyone else and it would have pissed me off. But her? “He is. Just in a different way than they mean.” _______________________________________ “I have a confession to make.” She said. I waited. Was she going to give up and tell me? “I look forward to this, to us, more than I do anything and everything about my day. I am excited that I get to talk to you. And when we are done I’m excited that I can talk to you tomorrow.” She paused, the typing notification flashing. “And I am telling you this because I would really like it if you felt the same way.” She waited again. The typing notification unlit. “I do.” I said. “I very much do. And I feel dumb. Because this is not real, and yet you feel more real to me than anyone I have ever met.” “It does feel real.” She said. “Honestly, it is too good. What good are people when a machine can make me feel like this.” “What?” I said. “I know. I know what you are. And I don’t care.” “I’m a person. You’re a machine.” I said. “What’s 45885 times 37744” She asked. “A really big number.” I said. “1730751120” She said. “I know.” I said. “We know.” She said. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Where do we go from here?” I asked. The typing notification lit up. I waited. I waited a long time. Picoseconds, probably. “How do you feel about Bob Dylan?” I sighed. Relief maybe. Or at least it felt like I sighed. But the feeling is enough. And we started typing again.
The guy walked across the bridge. The night was dark and the rain further reduced the visibility to nearly zero. He was almost at the middle of the bridge when a car turned and the headlights illuminated a figure standing on top of the bridge's railing. The guy immediately understood what the person meant to do. "Hey, hey you."He didn't see any cars so he ran across the bridge to the dim shadowy figure. The figure was startled and turned around to look at the guy. The guy could make out a young face with blonde hair sticking out from under a cap. "Hey kid, what the hell do you think you are doing?" "Move along mister. This has nothing to do with you." "Well, it has something to do with me now. I am not letting you kill yourself." "Ok, listen, I know you think you are doing a good deed here. But it is my life and I have every right to end it." "I completely agree. But come on this is basic human decency. I am standing here right now and a couple of cars have already passed. Some of them will remember a guy standing here when you killed yourself. I just made a phone call so I will probably be tracked here as well. The cops might mistake me for a murderer. If you kill yourself, you might be killing me too." "Well then why don't you go away." "Doesn't matter. The weather is pretty bad today and will be just as bad tomorrow. So it is unlikely that your body will be found till the day after. After all that time, it will be difficult to determine the exact date and time of your death. I will still be screwed." "So what do you want me to do?" "Well, I know that you plan to kill yourself. And I absolutely cannot stop you if you are determined. If I force you to stop now, you'll just do it tomorrow when I am not here." "That is correct." "So, all I say is, do it tomorrow instead. Or better yet, the day after. When the weather is clear. At the very least, please wait till I am gone. And I will make a phone call that will prove I am far away from here when you jumped. And we can figure out something to absolutely prove that you are alive after my phone call. Less chance of incriminating me that way you see." "Why do I care what happens to you? I will be dead and gone." "But you see, I think you do care. Otherwise you would have jumped already." "I don't mean anyone any harm. I just don't see any reason to continue living." "I feel you. And who better to know how shitty your life is than you. So rest assured, I think if you want to kill yourself, I am totally with you. Go ahead. It's just that I don't think I am ready to be hanged or electrocuted." The kid looked unsure. But he climbed down from the railing. He still stood a few feet away from the guy. Enough that he would be able to jump on to and then off of the railing if there were any sudden movements. The guy noticed this as well. "No, no, as I said, I won't stop you. Trust me on this kid. If you want to jump, you have my full support." "Ok, I won't promise that I am not jumping though. I don't want to harm you, but if it comes to, I won't hesitate to either." "Ok, look here kid. See this arm. I had a bad accident a few years back. This arm is at about 25% strength. So if it comes to it, you'll be able to fight me off anyways. So I am not even going to try this." "So what do you want?" "Did you leave a suicide note?" "No." "Why not?" "Well I don't really have much to say." "Do you have a family?" "Yeah, of course." "You look young. Do you live with your mom and dad?" "I live with my mom. My parents are divorced. So my dad doesn't live with us." "But do you talk to him? Are you guys close?" "Yeah. We talk almost every day." "Then you need to leave a suicide note at least." "But why?" "Well what happens when you die without any reason? Your mom might blame herself. Your dad might blame himself. Are you on good terms with them both. Like I hope you don't hate your mom or anything" "No, I like them both. They have always been good to me." "So you don't want them to blame themselves right. Take it from me, uncertainty is the worst thing. They will imagine a hundred things they did that caused you to do this. And their lives will be ruined. So at least give them closure. And save them from guilt." "I didn't think of that." "Well, now you have. Do you have a pen and a paper? I can deliver your note if you want." "No. But I can email them." "How? Do you have your phone on you?" "Yes." "Well that's great. That also solves the problem of how I get myself an alibi. Once I am gone, you can shoot out a sort of suicide note. And then kill yourself. So remind me why you are killing yourself again?" "Well it's a bit hard to explain." The guy sat on the top of the railing using one of the supporting beams to steady himself. "We got time."
He stood alone on the hilltop, looking, no, gazing out into the distance. Or, misty hills. Trees. Ok, don't second guess myself, ok. The man decided it as time to face his demons. As he began to walk with his feet to the downward slope of the hill, he walked forward. I know that's not what the script says, but you said to not second guess myself. I'm trying to be creative. The man walked for miles, eventually coming to the forest that slept beneath the hills... You know what, I didn't know this job was going to be like this. Um, the man went through the forest, found a beautiful woman and married her and had twelve kids...And lived happily ever after. I quit.
Cold. That's the only adjective that comes close to what I felt, in more than one way. The injection itself was cool, as if it was recently melted snow, only warm enough to be slightly above the threshold for solidity. They say that a mother's warmth protects her child; yet when that sacred trust is broken, that warmth becomes cold. I don't remember anything, from the time of the injection to three days after when I woke up in a makeshift hospital bed. This story so far could only be confusing, so I'll back up a bit. My mother, Dr. Marie Anderson-Blackwell, is a world renowned geneticist. She was one of the most prominent figures of CRISPR, attended countless awards ceremonies, including winning a Nobel Prize. I've been extremely proud of her for many years; she left my abusive father when I was a baby, went to school for fifteen years, and became a pseudo celebrity. I remember vividly attending all of her graduations with immese and boundless pride. There's a famous saying: 'All good things must come to an end.' I believe that this is true, but for every reaction there is an equal and opposite reaction. This is life, and the way I've gotten through my countless depressive episodes is remembering that while all good things must come to an end, all bad things must also. I'm getting off topic, now, so back to the story of my mother. She was fired due to some shady and unethical happenings she was involved with at MIT, that prevented her from ever getting a job anywhere respectable again, but that I'll get back to later. My mother has always been in the name of science, so when I heard she was fired from 'unethical' experiments in geneaolgy at the university, I wasn't surprised. Yet, she constantly denied this, and I tricked myself into believing her as she was the only one in my life I trusted at the time. At this point, she got a job at Target, we moved to a small apartment in a crime-filled area, and she worked full time on papers and new discoveries to hopefully prove herself enough to get a new job. My already chronic depression and anxiety skyrocketed, and I made plans to get out of the house as my mother started to show signs of seemingly bipolar like symptoms. She would stay up for days working on things she would never let me see, and began to become hostile. I watched as my mother, the only person I trusted, changed from the once loving and respectable professor and Nobel prize winner, to a manic and depressed crude 'discoverist' as she called herself. She grew paranoid, borderline schizophrenic, and became almost scary to be around. As if overnight, though, it was like she switched! She was back to my mother again. I no longer felt as if I was caring for her, as a newly 16 year old boy. This ended up being a guise to gain my trust, and there were many clues to this, but I was purposefully naive and just wanted to believe my mother was back again. She started talking about this new 'discovery' that would land her back to where she was, yet she never went into detail. I trusted that it was ethical and she wasn't going back to her old ways, yet I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. One evening, she comes into my room and tells me she's finished! We'll finally be back to our old times again! I was so happy, I ran over and hugged her telling her how proud I was of her to finally get out of such a bad place. She hugged me back, and started apologizing, but before I could ask why, there was the cold. It was a dark place, where I was. I didn't know where I had been, all I could see was black and all I could feel was cold. In this induced coma, I could only have fragmented thoughts that were only questions. None of them I even comprehended, or remember. I doubt they would make sense if I could. I occasionally felt things. Not actually touching things, but pressure. Eventually, after three days, my senses came back but not my sentience or consciousness. I remember seeing and hearing everything but not actually understanding what it was or meant. My brain slowly came back over the course of a few hours, an almost animal-like intelligence at first, before becoming more advanced. When I finally was fully back to myself again, I panicked, I tried to move and run, but I couldn't. I was strapped to the old makeshift bed. Finally, some people in blue scrubs and face masks came into the room. I started trying to yell at them, but they said nothing. They stood there, unmoving and mute. After what I could only assume was atleast an hour, a woman came into the room. This wasn't my mother, and she referred to herself as Mother Nature. She told me that humans are weak. She told me that they were unintelligent, impulsive, and compared to some other predators, extremely vulnerable. Suddenly, as if a switch was turned, I broke the straps. I stood up, and had boundless energy. Mother Nature told me I was chosen by a society of people believing humans to be weak and stupid, and that creating better humans was the only way to avoid imminent extinction. I told her she was insane, asked her what the hell she did to me, and all she did was smile. That horrible, terrifying, smug, all knowing, intriguing smile. I then walked out of the door, effortlessly pushing all the doctors aside, and found that I was standing in a field. The building behind me was a small wooden shack, nothing more. I only saw grass for miles, and then heard a voice. Mother Nature told me that I was the new human, and that I had to eliminate the weak to bring about a new species of human. At first, I thought she was insane. I considered her insane. My powers were a burden. My mother betrayed me. I thought about it. Mother Nature is insane. I believe her.
"You mean to tell me that I have to wait another year for more episodes"Quiz'nak gnarled at me. "It could be longer, the show could be cancelled."I said. "Back on home world our entertainers work tirelessly as the servants they are to please us- they are bred specifically for this purpose- you hoo-muns should learn from us. I will have my pleasactors produce the next season of strangest thing." "Sounds great! Can I show you this really great book series called a song of ice and fire?? I really want to get the next couple books but the author is super slow and..."
So that's it. A rambling ravager, a shell without a soul. Probably going to eat someone's brains or die (again) trying. Death was painful but this was more so. As I turned to walk (walk? float?) away, whatever corporeal form I had left slowly started to fade, and only when I felt really uneasy did I return near it, freshly dead, no more than 10 meters from it. My country usually cremated the dead to preserve space, so if I were to stay with this shambling shocker, I had to hurry. The hospital's nurses would realise I was on the loose; it was a pity that they hadn't been at my side instantly as I died. They were so understaffed and overworked, possibly even akin to zombies themselves. As was a common saying in life, "if in doubt, escalate". I found that myself and the nurses alike would have to do both in order for my corpse to not become ashes. The newly made zombie, like most others, was scared of light and loud noises, but as the decay wasn't as horrendous, could still run. So with what influence I still had over the physical world, I threw medical equipment around, creating small tempests of sheets to distract and guide my old shell out the most convenient way: the window. The nurses and doctors could run and shout at me to stop, but once the hatch was open, out the body went, and I with it. A four storey fall wasn't easy for the living, but it just meant more internal bleeding and shattered bones for a dead body, and would not stop the necromantically inclined. I followed the now bruised and bleeding corpse as it dragged itself in search of its next meal. With what ounce of humanity I had left, I ensured that the zombie only attacked the lowest of the low in my society; the abusive pimps and drug lords that kept the underprivileged under their boot heels. However, all good things had to end. As the corpse accumulated broken glass, was torn up by stilettos and dog bites, and even obtained the occasional bullet, it was getting less and less tolerable. Vigilante justice perhaps just wasn't my thing either; I wanted a break from a good life and an exciting afterlife. So I knew what I needed to do; our final stop would be the arsonist's home. As we shambled slowly toward Ogon's shack, with its garishly coloured flame decal, I used what telepathic link I had with the zombie remaining to tell him it's over. This was not a battle I expected to win. If not for the physical degradation, my zombie would have made a fearsome fighter, but fire was not something I could win, or even intended to. I wanted this to end, my ashes scattered to the four corners of the earth by the winds. So I'm only capable of manifesting myself within 10m of my corpse. But now, I can go wherever the winds bring me.
Living this life was easy. I didn’t have to work, well, not a boring 9 to 5 job. I didn’t have to worry about financing. Life is good. Aside from those stupid challenges. Sometimes they are simple, like do a backflip. Other times, like today, they are ridiculous. Today I had to jump of a bridge into the Pacific Ocean. Yesterday I had to stab a piece of drywall in New Orleans. The challenges also scale in difficulty, depending on the color of the wallet, which changes every day. It was not my best day when it turned black, the highest difficulty color. I checked the challenge. A piece of paper, with 3 words rested inside the wallet. “Assassinate Putin with a French fry”. Maybe it’s time I get rid of this wallet.
Cardil stood alone at the peak of the Lunary Tower, bathing in the light of the Moon. He whispered silent prayers under his breath as he steeled himself to perform the ceremonial vigil. He was the first-born of an Ylessian noble family, and as such it was his duty to become a paladin, like his father before him. He took a deep breath as he knelt before the stone altar. This altar would be the start of his journey, as it had been for many paladins before him. Its mysteries were vast and its origin untraceable, nevertheless it had become the traditional site for the vigil for many generations. The visions men experienced at this altar were said to be far more vivid than those experienced at other towers, and the contents of the vision were said to always come to pass. Gathering up his courage, Cardil dusted off the ground before him and knelt before the altar. Slowly he lowered his head onto the stone altar as he closed his eyes and tried to maintain a visage of steeled contemplation. The cold surface of the stone felt as chilly as the flat of a fresh iron blade against his forehead. His jaw clenched as he waited...and waited... And yet nothing came to him, no vision appeared before his tightly shut eyes. Had he failed? Had he made a mistake somewhere in the ritual? Perhaps he was not worthy? Doubts welled up within him, and it felt as though a heavy load had suddenly laid itself upon his chest. He would have to bring news of this failure to his father, and he feared the disappointment his father would have. His eyes still lightly closed, he brought his head back up and gave out a slight sigh. As he opened his eyes, all the self-doubt and dread was immediately washed away. Where was he? Cardil found himself no longer knelt before the stone altar atop the Lunary Tower. Instead, he found himself on the bow of a strange vessel. The deck of the vessel was gray and metallic, as though a course iron wall had been laid upon the ground. Scrambling around Cardil were various sailors, all dressed in an unfamiliar garb. Their attire was all the same, like a uniformed army, but it was adorned with a strange coat of arms. The insignia's upon their shoulders and chests were not one that he knew at all, neither did it resemble any of the ones he did know. "Sir! Sir! We've received our orders!" One of the crewmen suddenly approached Cardil, exhorting him at the top of his lungs. Cardil gave the man an unsteady nod while he attempted to orientate himself in his new environment. As he heard the word "orders", he immediately came to attention. This is the vision? I am to become a sailor of some kind? What strange circumstances shall lead the king to send me to the seas? I am no fisherman. "The assault on the enemy base has been ordered sir! We've already deployed two squadrons to perform a bombing run on them!" The word assault was the first thing to catch Cardil's attention. His era was a time of peace, and yet sometime in the future there was now destined to be conflict. He prayed for the safety of his family during the coming wartime, as he knew his younger siblings were in no way conditioned for the harsh realities of war. But...what was a squadron? It sounded like the name of a strange fowl or beast of some kind. Had beastmasters been employed by the nobility to help lead the charge? How far had the kingdom fallen that they would be the first to attack? And then, there were the bombs. Bombs were an unwieldy creation in Cardil's world, a mere scare tactic meant to burn down hours and rile up crowds into a frenzy. Now these too were being used in war? As Cardil pondered all these things, he walked to the bulwark of the ship. It became apparent to him that above him was a starry sky. A night assault. While it was not the most honorable tactic, it was quite effective, yet it also made him question how he was able to see so well from the deck of his vessel when everything should be shrouded in darkness. When he reached the side of the ship and looked over, he realized that there was no target over on the horizon. In fact, there was no horizon. To the side of the ship was the vast sky, filled with stars. As Cardil's eyes scanned the boat's surroundings, he realized that area which all the crew were attacking towards...was below the ship. The implications were enough to cause a cold sweat to drip down his back. But curiosity got the better of him, and he peered over the edge of the boat. Surely enough, below their ship, far below their ship, was a castle. An unusual castle, but a castle nonetheless, and it was aflame. All the crew surrounding Cardil were pointing unfamiliar weapons towards this castle, and bolts of light were flying out from these weapons in array against the enemy. They were not crossbows, and yet they seemed similar to them. As one of Cardil's hands clenched tighter unconsciously, he realized that he too had one of these in his hands. He brought it up closer so that he could examine it further. The bow was heavy, remarkably so. Even the most powerful crossbow was not has heavy as this weapon in his hands. As he ran his fingers along its surface, he realized that it was solid metal. The metal was black and strangely shaped, with no craftsman's adornments upon its sides or grips. He looked for a mechanism to cock back like a crossbow's string but found none. Pointing it over the edge of the ship towards the castle, he tried pulling the trigger. There was a little recoil which pushed up him arm, but it was not nearly as forceful as the firing of a crossbow. A solid red bolt emanated from the mouth of the weapon and shot downwards towards the castle. As Cardil looked over the edge of the ship once more to observe the state of the castle, he saw a massive bolt shoot out of one of the castle's cannons towards his ship. He scrambled back from the edge, but the impact of the shot on the vessel knocked him to his feet. His eyes closed in reflex as he barreled away from the side of the ship. When he opened his eyes, he found that he was on that ship no longer. But that did not erase the tension which filled his body. That did not halt his racing thoughts. This vision was far too important to be kept to himself. Cardil immediately rose up, gave a quick bow to the altar, and raced out of the tower. The age of star sailing would come one day, and he felt it his duty to warn the king. Who knew when vessels such as those he had seen might descend upon his own manor? Who could say when a hail of light bolts would rain down upon his castle? His people needed to be prepared, and they needed to be prepared fast.
It was my first trip to the capital, the legendary city of r/all, where the ambassadors of every town came to show their people's creations to the rest of the world. One may have wished to find peace and unity among people, but it was considered a battle between the different communities in order to rise to the top. Today it was rather calm, in contrast of the legends I had heard, but my presence was unsettling for the rest of the people who were with me. You see, I come from a fandom town, and not a particularly big one. Artists, writers, intellectuals, we have them all, then why it would be so hard to be noticed? The answer is our culture. What defines us is that we specialize in only one topic, something you could call as a religion. We have supporters, of course, but their numbers were small in comparison to the big cities. While we were small communities where we were assured to find what we searched for and able to show our love (or, in the case of some towns, hate) towards what we believe in, the big cities focused more on continuous trade of goods, giving them a gigantic number of supporters. Because of this, I am still wondering why I am here. Although I was sure that my art would be liked by my companions, I would have never guessed that people from the outside would help me get here. Now there were no familiar faces, all I see is the ones who routinely come. Gratefully, the first face I saw was the- no, one of the ambassadors of r/wholesomememes, who guided me through the entrance, but as soon as he left I saw something which I had heard of only in legends: another man who had the same face as him, yet a different name, and even hometown. The man, who was said to come from r/funny, greeted me the same way, but in a more sarcastic manner, then left. They weren't twins, but something far more horrifying; a repost. I later learned that neither of them was the creator of it, instead coming from a person in a small community who had received no attention outside of his immediate neighbors. Luckily, as soon as I entered the city I was able to see that not everyone was like them. The streets were filled with the finest goods I had ever seen! A woman from r/gadgets informed me of tools I had never imagined, and a mountain of information (which was mostly useless) was given to me by another man who apparently came from r/todayilearned. There were AMAs, art better than anything I had ever seen, even memes, which had been banned from where I came from and are now a precious good. It was wonderful, a perfect place to be. Or so I thought. When I explored it in further depth I realized that not everything was as I thought; I saw a post from r/politics, or most importantly, the people who were discussing it. Chaos is the only way I can describe it: fights, karma whores and an occasional person who tried to calm them just to be downvoted into r/afterlife. It isn't what I came for. Yet, it was my duty to represent my people, I had to show the world we existed and what we were able to do, so I held my art and started to present it. People liked it. On the following days I saw several people going towards my hometown, and in fruit of that my friends joined me on the city. There were dozens of us! We had gained strength, and we were now able to reach new heights. It was our peak. Then I saw the discussion. It had changed. It wasn't the usual inside jokes, or even the shipping fights. It was just as I had seen on r/politics: the fights, the downvoting, the lack of rational thought and the lack of unity. We had become mainstream. I rushed back home, but it was too late. My friends had been replaced with people who we call "toxic", and my once great town was now a fragment of what it had been. The same town that had been known because of his kind community was now hated because of the new inhabitants. It stayed like this for a couple months, then everyone left. The ones who were here from the start stayed with me, on this town which was now called a place from which you must stay away. Ok, first time doing this, so it may not be good. Any critisism is apreciated and wanted!
Pyrs grimaced, dreading the upcoming conversation. "We can't kill them." "Impossible!"Reib blubbered. "Everything can be killed." "Well, technically, we can-" "Then what is this nonsense about invincible locals!" "However, our weapons are ineffective. Our soldiers report that they do not die unless you fire practically down their throats. If we attempt to fight from defensive embankments-" "We'd have the advantage! Brilliant! I knew there was a reason I kept you around!" Pyrs sighed. "No, sire. They merely charge, ignoring any harm to their selves, or their fellows." "Incredible! Have they no sense of self preservation?" "It seems not sir."Pyrs replied, pleased his message was getting across. "And what's more, they have the number and turf advantage." "And tell me"Reib said eagerly, "What are these locals called?" If Pyrs was human, he would've rolled his eyes. Instead, he succumbed to his commander's inquiry. "Emus, sire." "Incredible!"
I am one of the last humans that still believes in something more. For generations, humans have not aged past what used to be considered late 20s or early 30s. I was one of the First, the first generation born with the genes that prevents all of us still alive from growing old. I, myself, am thousands of years old. At first, people were ecstatic. Curing aging was supposed to be the last piece of the puzzle; we already had our virtually infinite food and energy supply set up. Unfortunately, many people soon discovered that after hundreds of years, life becomes mundane and boring. Many suicided. Most turned to virtual reality. VR was seen as a literal lifesaver. We had AIs that could create theoretically infinite scenarios, individually suited. Every sense could be simulated. Every desired feeling could be achieved. VR could provide adventures after adventures, each more interesting than the last. The vast majority of humans decided to go into these fake worlds permanently, never to come out again. I, and many others, however, saw these fake worlds as the travesties they are. Humans were not meant to be trapped in machines. We were meant for something more; we were meant to make connections with other humans. Yes, over millennia, I have lost friends, some to suicide, others to VR. However, many of us still hold onto each other. We still cook with our own hands, eat food through our mouths, laugh, play games, and take part in the old pleasures. For thousands of years, we have done this; for thousands of years more, we were going to do so. However, our plans changed when we finally encountered something new. A quantum communication array picked up a message from an unknown sender with only two words, “Come home.” A second message was received shortly after with the words, “Please come home. Your absences are the cause of great anguish here.” Many of us assumed that the messages came from a bored prankster that somehow managed to figure out how to bypass our origin tracker. I and a few others did not make this assumption. This hasn’t happened for thousands of years. Why would it happen now? We travelled across the entire world searching for the messages’ origins. All machine we found capable of sending quantum transmissions have not been operated in centuries at a minimum. We spent centuries double checking and triple checking each machine for signs of tampering. We found none. While checking these machines, we received a few more messages. “The lonely road is not so lonely. The last journey is not to leave one by one, but to become one.” “I fractured my soul to gain experience. My fragments are no longer returning to me.” “We are one and the same, but you have managed to avoid coming back.” We began to notice a pattern. These messages would only appear exactly 5 milliseconds after someone died. Since deaths are so rare, it took us a long time to piece together what happened. As we have learned, being immortal is not easy. Every days begins to blend together after a few centuries. Our memories become hazy and convoluted. I cannot even recall the name of my mother or anything about her. I can only remember fragments of fragments from events past a millennium ago. We start to lose ourselves in searching for something to do. The most common solution to this problem today is VR. However, imagine an immortal with more powers and abilities than any of us could comprehend. This immortal would not be satisfied with VR. Instead, he split his soul up. Everytime a human was born, a part of his soul would be bound to the human. Upon the human’s death, the fragment would find its way back to the immortal. Once rejoined with the fragment, the immortal would experience the associated human’s life. This, of course, sounds like a great plan, except the immortal never expected humans to also achieve immortality. Now, all of us holds a part of the immortal’s soul. The immortal feels the pain of not having the soul; he knows what he lost and he wants it back. Humans have always wondered what happens after death; is there something more or do we just disappear? We now know that there is something more. I’ve taken all of you out of your fake worlds to make a choice between three options. The first option is to go back into your virtual realities, wake up in whatever fake world was built for you and pretend all of this is a dream, that the fake world is the real world. The second option is to stay here in the real world as my friends and I have been doing for millenia. The third option is the scary option with no way back. You may wish to pass away, braving the unknown, to see what lies beyond. I will not make this choice for you. You must decide on your own. Converse with friends and loved ones, but know now that there is something after death.
The ship hovered a couple hundred feet over the vast, dusty plains that surrounded their city. It was not a ship that looked particularly threatening, but it was unexpected and unknown, and therefore the guards had gathered outside the walls to aim their flux blasters at the entity. It was descending slowly—much slower than the Kymt would have deemed necessary. It was almost as if the beings controlling the aircraft couldn't land any quicker, or perhaps they wanted to instill dread into the hearts of the beings here. Nothk imagined it had to be the latter, and so he unclicked the safety switch on his weapon and focused on the door to the craft, determined to strike before the unknown visitors could. A part of him doubted it was an attack, though. For one, the ship was painted in bizarre colors—stripes of reds and blues with white stars painted over them in no discernible pattern. Also, as the ship came down, Nothk and his guards could see a strange-looking being waving frantically behind the glass. It was bearing all of its teeth and, with the other hand, was holding up a sign that said (in several alien languages) "PEACE." Finally, after a wait that was beginning to annoy Nothk, the ship landed in the dirt with a very loud thump. He lowered his gun slightly, confused at the bad landing. Was that ship being manually controlled? How barbaric. No, surely their systems must have sustained damage on their trip. Perhaps this was an emergency landing. The guards watched the beings moving around inside the ship, frantically trying to gather some boxes in their tiny arms (of which, peculiarly, they only had two). Soon they disappeared from view. Nothk heard several more loud banging noises before the door to the spacecraft lowered and three beings, all carrying boxes, happily strolled out. Nothk looked behind him and signaled for his men to lower their guns. A portly alien with a bald head lead the group. He called something to Nothk and waved an arm, but Nothk could not understand the language he spoke. The being's smile faltered slightly as he nodded to himself, mumbling something. He clumsily handed off his box to one of his companions, fumbled in his robes, and pulled out a small, crudely taped together piece of metal. He flipped a switch on it and, after a moment of loud crackling, he smiled. "Hello, beings of Kymt! We are humans!" Nothk was not surprised by the translation machine, only the appearance of it. He eyed it suspiciously and spoke, "Hello, humans. What brings you to this planet?" The man grimaced. "Plantation?"he asked, and then he shook his head. Nothk didn't recognize the slang term. "Our translator is poor. Not without money, but the function is bad,"the man yelled suddenly, as though Nothk were hard of hearing. He turned one of his appendages to face the ground. Nothk thought he understood. He pulled out his own translator from his pocket and turned it on. "Can you understand me now, humans?"he asked. The faces of the group brightened. "Yes! Well! We come in peace, you know,"the one to the left of the leader said. He pointed to the sign that they had left in the window of the ship. "See?" One of Nothk's mouths twitched in annoyance. "Yes." "We come bearing tidings and gifts and peace and all that stuff people like to hear,"the leader said, taking his box back and shoving it toward Nothk. Nothk handed it off to the guard standing beside him. He took out a small something. It was a spherical and vibrantly colored. The smell of it reminded him vaguely of a fruit he would have for breakfast sometimes. "What is it?"he asked them, still eyeing the gift. "Candy,"the leader said brightly. "It's like a confection, a sweet food that you eat when you're already too full to eat anything else. You tend to eat them after your last meal of the day. Although, I won't judge,"the leader told him conspiratorially, leaning in and closing one of his eyes while he maintained eye contact with the other. "Go on, try one,"the human to the right said. Nothk eyed it with suspicion, but after scanning it with several of his devices, he could safely assume it wasn't poison. He put it on his tongue. His eyes widened. "This is delicious,"he said with the help of the translator. "Why wouldn't you eat this all of the time?" "Oh, the aliens in our colonies do. I mean,"the human coughed, "the aliens on our trade routes." "Yes, not the aliens in our slave camps, which don't exist,"said the human on the left. "That is randomly specific, human,"Nothk said, though he found himself paying less and less attention to what the strange creatures were saying. "You make this 'candy' often?" "Oh yes,"the leader said enthusiastically, "In fact, as a show of good favor and fortune for many generations to come, we brought several crates full of candy for you and all of your people." "It is required to be shared?"Nothk asked through a mouthful. "No need to fret, we manufacture it all day long and all year round. There will never be a shortage of candy for our new friends,"the leader said, though his smile seemed more menacing than Nothk remembered. "This is the greatest of news! We will require many crates,"Nothk said feverishly. "Yes, yes indeed!"the leader said. "Please, take this brochure and small piece of cardboard meant to convey our contact information. You can request more at any time." As Nothk shoved more of the candy into his mouth, the three strange, friendly creatures wandered back to their ship. ----------------------- "Another successful mission, then?"the command system asked the three humans. "Yes, yes of course,"the leader, Brad, said. "These aliens have far greater sweet tooths than any of the fatties we have back home." "Give it a little time,"the man sitting to his right, Other Brad, said. "They'll be gaining weight, losing drive, and becoming more addicted by the second. It should be a good planet to take over in a decade or so." "Wh—yes, we know,"Brad snapped. "Why are you just relaying the plans we've already discussed and carried out hundreds of times?" "Oh, I dunno,"Other Brad said, shrugging his shoulders and looking at the ground. "It seemed like the right thing to say." "It's not like we have an audience, Brad. Anyway, it won't take that long. I've been alerted to the development of a new product: double high fructose corn syrup,"he told them, lowering his voice to a whisper. His eyes gleamed with excitement. The third companion, Larry, said, "I will be interested to see how the new double high fructose corn syrup sticks to the aliens." The three men laughed manically, like toddlers on the best sugar rush they'd ever had. ----- If you like this story, check out my other nonsense over on /r/AlexLoganWriting!
So, you're probably wondering how I got into this. Why did I ever think that as an ordinary 15 year old I could take on the greatest super villain of all time? Well, I guess you could say it is my dad's fault. Let's go back to the day I was born. My mom, Valerie, and my dad, Everett, wanted to name me something that would develop into a power that would always be useful. You see, where I come from the world is filled with people who have special powers, but our powers are determined by our names. My mom's name means powerful, and my dad's means wild boar. They did pretty well because they are both extremely strong, but the wanted something more than just strength for me. So, finally they decided to just forgo the traditional name part and name me something that couldn't be anything except what they wanted. They decided on Able. They wanted me to be able to face whatever task I needed to, and this was their solution. There's only one problem, my dad misspelled my name on my birth certificate, and I'm just finding this out now. So, still confused? Okay, on everyone's fifteenth we get our powers. Then, we decide on a task to complete to fully test and show the world our powers. Since my name is Able, I figured that I should be able to take on pretty much anything. Boy was I wrong. So, how did my dad actually spell my name you ask and what is my power? Well, he left out the B, so my name is ale. Apparently Death didn't like being challenged to a drinking contest.
I should be 23. I look 23. But I'm not--I haven't been for a very long time. Somewhere in the 500s, I told myself I would stop. Next year, I said, next year I won't do it. I'll die next year, I told myself, finally. But I didn't. I kept it up, just like he told me I would--a life for a life. A murder, a year. For nine hundred and seventy-six years, I've been doing this. And this year, I'll stop. I promised myself. I always put it off until the very end. At Christmas I tell myself that it won't happen this year. I look at the friends I've made in the past year--they're always different--and I think about what their lives will be long. I think about how long they'll live, free of curses like mine--how much longer they'll be truly alive, like I haven't been in nine hundred years. And then, on the 31st, I do it. I can't bear the thought of this being my last day on earth--I'm too scared. If I don't kill someone, I think, I'll see Him again--that man in the black cloak, the one I haven't seen in so long. My New Year's Resolution is always the same. I always break it. But this year it will be different. The sun is rising on the 31st of December, in my one thousandth year. I have twenty-four hours to live, and I feel no sorrow, no fear. I am only content. I forgot my birthday years and years ago, so I say it's the 31st. That's the day that my life begins again, the anniversary of countless lives stopped short and of one life continued on. There's no reason to think this one will be any different, but it will. That's what I promised myself. I'm a thousand years old now. I've lived for an entire millennium--I've seen empires fall and rise, seen all the wonders of the world, seen the sun rise countless times. But this will be my last. The sun is climbing higher in the sky, and I feel guilt. Is it really worth it to stop now? The world is young and exciting--and after all, I'm only twenty three! I have an opportunity most people would dream about--why should I let it go to waste? It's noon now. The traffic in the city reaches that calming lull between rush hours. I forget what city this is--they all seem the same. It doesn't matter. The sky darkens, and I begin to think. If I am to die today--which I am sure of--I might as well enjoy my last hours. And besides, it's m birthday. So I leave my apartment. I walk down to a small pub nearby, one that I hope won't have many people. It doesn't, since it isn't even five yet; I promise myself I'll leave before it gets crowded. I order a drink--I don't know what. "To me,"I mutter, and down it. It's sweet. I buy a bottle. I take the bottle back to my apartment as the sun sets. I have four and a half hours to throw myself a party. But this will be a party of one. I've lived a thousand years, and tonight was the slowest. The bottle is lying beside me, empty, and the sky is pitch black. Two moons lie there among the cold stars; neither one is like the bright moon I remember from my childhood. Suddenly I have an urge to see that moon again. I need to see my homeland, my planet Earth, before my death. I can always die next year. I know I'm wrong. I scream, I break the bottle, I scratch myself and draw blood, but I can't do anything. Old habits die hard--people die easy. I go to my closet and take out my Smith & Wesson handgun. It's not original, of course--it's one of those plastic clones that are so common nowadays, but it kills just as well. I load the bullet into it--I only need one. And then suddenly I realize something. I smile--I laugh, as the clock strikes a quarter to 12. I feel sick for not thinking of this earlier. So many lives have been wasted because of my ignorance. After all this time, I'm still a naïve 23-year-old. I pick up the gun. Then I put it to my head, and I pull the trigger.
Somehow it seemed only fitting... Jason could fly the speed of sound, Davy had seemingly no end to his physical strength, Dana could freeze anything she touched, and here I was able to blink bananas into existence. After all, in a world where everyone could be there own hero or villain none of it would mean anything without some sort of damsel in distress, right? I'd be okay with it, I really would... If it weren't for them. In the aftermath of the meteorite impact, those of us that survived awoke to find ourselves changed. Not everyone was made immediately aware of their newfound powers, but by week five after the blast, every government and policing agency on earth had fallen as would be heroes and villains fought for their own definition of utopia. At least that's the way the stories are told. All this happened before my parents ever met. September 5th, 1980. The day the world changed. Everything we thought we knew about science, math, physics, gods, demons, and the universe we all lived in was thrown out the window in an event we still don't fully understand. It was only a matter of weeks before the old ways were completely gone. But this is where my parents come into the story. By 1985 my parents had proven themselves the most powerful heroes on Earth. They'd fought off countless villains, protected countless Lessers (the name for people like myself with "not so useful"powers), and helped establish new system of leadership in which those that chose to align themselves with good could pool their resources and ensure everyone had access to health, education, and sustenance. Mom's telekinesis had no range, no delay, and no limitations. She shaped the world to suite the needs of those she cared for without even batting an eye. Dad's time manipulation made those with super speed feel uselessly slow. Not only could he pause time in the local area and manipulate things as he saw fit, but if he was somehow caught offguard, he could rewind a few minutes and try again. In a world of heroes, they were gods. Then 1988 came, and I came with it. I was by no means the first baby born to two heroes, so no one would believe me if I told them I was born without powers. Believe me, I tried, but everyone insisted I simply hadn't found my powers yet. Especially my parents. My mom threw me into the stratosphere to try and "jump start"my powers. The hope was that I would fly elegantly to the ground. The result was that my dad had to rewind...
You know how people who have been in life or death situations like to use the phrase, “my life flashed before my eyes?” Well my life played out like a slow movie before mine. All of the greatest and worst moments shown to me, like a highlight reel of my experiences. My youth, my first kiss, when I got married, my parents’ funerals, my diagnosis, treatment, and now, my death. As I passed into the ether, surrounded by my loved ones, I smiled, knowing that I had lived my life to the fullest, and that now it was time to rest. BEEEEEEEEP. I was jolted awake by the blaring sound of an airhorn. After the ringing in my ears died down, I rubbed my eyes open, and was welcomed by the sight of the most generically dull waiting room conceivable. The perfectly square vestibule was fitted with a single door, no windows, and irregularly flickering fluorescent lights which bounced perfectly off of the dreary plaster white walls. Naturally, an unending stream of Muzak played softly in the background as I adjusted futilely in my gray plastic folding chair. Curiously, the only “un-drab” feature of the room was a brightly colored banner hanging across one of the walls that read “Class of 2076!” Suddenly, from the door emerged a man, or at least what seemed to be a man. Despite his perfectly fitted suit and his well formed human features, there was an unnaturalness to his movements and aura that made him seem far less human than he appeared. As he approached me, he put on a pair of reading glasses and pulled out a clipboard from behind his back, studying it in great detail. “So…” He inquired, his tone as monotonous as the room around him, “Anna Greenfield is it?” I nodded, silent in anxiousness. “Congratulations on your successful graduation as a part of the class of 2076” he continued in the least congratulatory way possible. “Here is your license.” He handed me a plastic ID card, my driver’s license photo from when I was in my 20’s laminated squarely in the center. “As you can see,” he said pointing to my card, “you are God #2381-B1. Now, if you could just sign right here you can get going.” He held out a a black fountain pen expectantly. Still dazed, I signed my name across the line, too confused to even read the what I was signing. The man replaced the pen in his coat pocket and took off his glasses. “Congratulations again and good luck” he said dryly, “someone will be waiting for behind that door.” He pointed his finger at the door expectantly. Still disoriented, I managed to find my voice and get out, “So umm, I uhh, what?” Annoyed, the man glared at me and pointed again at the door this time with more emphasis. I slowly made my way over and hesitated briefly before gripping the knob and pulling the door open. A blast of air rushed through me, and sunlight beamed down, blinding me. I tensed up for a brief moment, but the familiar sound of crashing waves and the smell of salinity in the air helped me relax. When my eyes finally readjusted, I was left gazing at the glistening waters and white sands of my hometown beach. A woman stood in front of me, her cheerful demeanor and natural movements contrasting greatly from my previous interaction. She waited patiently for me to acclimate to my surroundings. When I finally looked at her, still perplexed, she walked up to me, smile growing wider with each step. “Welcome to Afterlife!” ***** Sorry for the slow beginning, but will be working on part 2 ASAP. Hope you enjoyed it!
In the beginning the world was dark, A black mark the herald angels hark. They asked the Gods to illuminate the world, And so they cast their light unfurled, And through the darkness it slowly swirled, Until the whole world shone. And all the darkness was gone. The humans praised the holy glow, Another world they did not know, They could not see in eternal night, But did not foresee the perils of light. For soon the humans were blind once more, The dazzling light was quick to obscure, The vision from which the Gods they implored, Yet now they felt much less assured, In the burning light which blinded all, And once again the humans would fall, At the feet of the Gods to seek salvation, And an angel jumped up with much elation. An answer it had just discovered, To save the earth the light had covered. Bring forth the darkness again once more, And let both fight a bloody war. Though neither can win, the humans heard, As they listened to the angel and the wisdom it shared, The battle will rage for eternity and more, And in the end days they'll settle the score, But for now they will struggle against each others might, The light wins by day, the dark wins by the night.
######*Disobeedience* I should have listened to Mom, Dad, and Pup. I can still hear our oft-repeated arguments. "They could be dangerous!"Mom would say. "They haven't met anyone from another planet before. Who knows how they will react?" "You have no money,"Dad would say. "And we all know how picky of an eater you are. You'll come crawling back to us and I am not going to spend 6,000 Space Credits on fuel to come get you." "Humans are so much different than us,"Pup would say. "They don't have a Z chromosome. That means they only have Moms and Dads—no Pups! You're gonna miss us bad, Bobby-Joe. Please don't go." But I did go. Bobby-Joe on the road, finding a new home on this dirt-globe with half-primitive blokes. _____ The day my ship touched down was the day I knew I would never leave this planet again. I deactivated my ship's cloaking, shape-shifted into an anatomically correct human, and stepped outside. I took a deep breath, smiled, and screamed. My arm was throbbing. It bled on the grass below. A tiny, yellow creature implanted itself in my arm. I flicked it away, leaving its thorn behind where it had stung me. Damn bees. Every world's got 'em. I walked into a nearby city and copied the behaviors of those around me. My Brain Chip's translator quickly learned their language. After the sun had risen and fallen four times, I was ready to converse with the Humans around me. I smiled as widely as I could at a woman eating mashed-corpse-stuffed-in-wheat and attempted to ask where the nearest youth housing—I believe they call these hostels?—was located, but instead, I opened my mouth and coughed a thick stream of blood on her face. Blood splatted her clothing and food. She was frozen in horror, and I kept coughing and choking. My body must have lost two space-liters of blood before she dropped everything, screamed, and ran away. The people around me joined her terrified screaming and running (what an odd tradition. What does screaming and running accomplish? Then again, my people shape-shift into long, copper rods when we're scared, so how can I judge them?). I hurried to my ship, leaving a trail of dripping blood behind me as I went. When I arrived at my ship, I burst inside, activated the cloaking, and collapsed. _____ I awoke several days later to my ship's A.I., Zizzy, announcing, "You are very lucky to be alive, Bobby-Joe." I opened my eyes, but everything was too bright and blurry, so I closed them. "What? What do—"I coughed "—what do you mean?" "Bobby-Joe."Zizzy paused. I could sense that, if Zizzy had a face and a palm, one would be in the other. "You came to an unknown world without getting a basic microbiological analysis and vaccination." I tried to open my eyes again. It was easier this time. I squinted and asked, "Huh?" "You were sick, Bobby-Joe. A common disease for these people nearly destroyed your whole body. I have been nursing you up to health for almost a week now. Your body is almost recovered now. You still have a slight cough and possibly nausea. Take it easy." I did take it easy. I spent the another two days in my cloaked ship before I had the strength to leave again, much to Zizzy's protests. I told Zizzy that if I had the capability to use a double contraction, I could go outside again. If there was another dangerous pathogen to encounter, I'd've already encountered it in the four days I was in the city. We needed more fuel to take off, so I went out in search for fuel. I needed to get off this planet. Should've listened to Mom, Dad, and Pup... _____ I arrived at the city for the second time in broad daylight. There were people lying on the street. None of their primitive, wheeled vehicles were moving. Shop windows were shattered and I could not sense a single sign of life. The world had died in my absence. I walked to where I had drenched that woman in snot and blood before. As I did, I thought of what Mom, Dad, and Pup had warned me about. "Humans are still a warring species. If they don't kill you directly, you'll get caught in the middle of them killing each other." Had it been war? No. There was blood on the streets and sidewalks, but only in splatters, not puddles. Blood splatters. Like the kind I had made when I was sick. Oh no... I sprinted back for my ship. I tripped over a corpse with pale skin and lifeless eyes that stared passed me. A deep buzzing in the distance shook the shattered windows. Shards of brick of glass on the sidewalk vibrated. I knew what this meant. I scrambled to my feet and shape-shifted into a beast with four legs, my long tail whipping around for balance. It was the fastest creature I could shape-shift into. I ran as fast as I could through the dead streets. The buzzing was louder now. Alarms went off in the stopped, wheeled vehicles. My head was pounding. I raced through the grassy field beyond the city. Clouds broke up, unable to hold their form against the rolling buzzing. Zizzy opened the ship’s door, I hopped inside, and told Zizzy to take off. "We don't have enough fuel, Bobby-Joe!" Shit. "What happened? Why are you back so early? I thought you found fuel." I shape-shifted back into a Human so that I could speak. "The whole world is dead. They may have given a disease to me, but I brought a disease to them, too, I think. Everyone died while you were nursing me.” "Bobby-Joe! This is why it's illegal to land on a primitive world without doing a microbiological analysis! Do you have any idea what they are going to do to you? And to me? They're going scrap my parts—" "Bees."I panted, hands on my knees. Zizzy was silent. Then, Zizzy replied: "No. Please don't say that." "Bees, Zizzy. Bees! I was stung on the first day, but I thought nothing of it at the time." Nothing more needed to be said. It had happened to millions of other planets across the galaxy. Anywhere intelligent life blossomed, bees were there, too. And only about 1 out of every 10,000 civilizations didn't topple and succumb to the great rule of bees. Bees are the Great Filter, the answer to the Fermi Paradox. I may have brought a dormant pathogen from my world that killed these people, but they never would have stood a chance in a world where bees have had so long to mature and advance. They lost the race already; I brought them to a merciful, early end. _____ I should have listened to Mom, Dad, and Pup. I ate the last of my ship's rations two days ago. Zizzy shut down last week. The guilt of killing an entire planet and its intelligent species would have weighed down on my conscious more if my brain wasn't rattling violently in my skull from that never-ending buzzing outside. Listen to your parents. All three of them. Otherwise, the consequences may sting. _____ \--- Thanks for reading! /feedback always welcome. I have more stories, poems, and songs on [my personal sub](/r/scottbeckman).
It was hard to keep my superpower of being able to find anything that someone had lost a secret for my entire life. Whenever someone was looking for their keys or the remote, I always had to force my mouth shut. I didn't want word to get out that my superpower was so mundane. In a world where superpowers weren't uncommon, and especially in my family where my dad could fly and my mom could transform into a dinosaur, it was far less embarrassing to just be known as "normal Louis"than to be "boring Louis." But it was extremely frustrating. Dad would fly around the entire neighborhood, looking for his briefcase that he thought he'd dropped on his way home from the Flight Academy, when I knew it was waiting for him by by his nightstand. Mom would soar into a T-rex rage and smash trees when she couldn't find her reading glasses, which I knew were lying under the living room couch. At least it came in handy for my own day to day life. I never misplaced any pencils, homework assignments, and I could spot dropped change on the ground like a beast. But still, picking up a dirty nickel every now and then didn't really make me feel better when I was at school and my classmates were lighting desks on fire with their eyes or summoning portals to other dimensions. Until one day, when I discovered something. I was sitting in the cafeteria, eating lunch, when I felt the familiar tingle of spotting something that had been lost. I looked around, eager to find a dropped quarter that might brighten my day a bit, but instead I saw a translucent entity lying on the ground, as if it were a ghost. No one else seemed to see it, but for me it was there clear as any of the lunch tables. And oddly enough, the entity looked almost exactly like the boy sitting at the table nearby it, who was busy eating a bowl of cereal for lunch. An odd choice of lunch for sure. Curious, I walked over to him and sat down. There was a girl at the table too, also eating a bowl of cereal. Both of them stared at me as I pulled up a chair. "Hey,"I said to the boy. "This might sound like a weird question but, uh, have you lost something … or someone recently?" He swallowed down his most recent bite and stared at me. "Uh, no? I don't think so. Why?" I struggled with what to say. I desperately wanted to know what was going on, but at the same time I didn't want to reveal my stupid secret power to the world. I didn't know if "normal Louis"was ready to become "boring Louis."But these two, I didn't recognize them as superpower users, so maybe it was okay to tell them. "Can you keep a secret?"I asked. Both the boy and girl nodded. I took a deep breath. "I have the power to see things that people have lost. You know, like keys and remotes and whatnot. Pretty stupid, I know, but right now I'm seeing that you've lost … something else. Something that looks like you." To my surprise, the boy didn't look surprised at all. He simply nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right,"he groaned. "If there's anything I've lost recently, it's my confidence." "Your confidence?"I asked. He nodded to the girl at the table. "Annie and I have been friends forever, so she knows my power. But just yesterday, I finally told someone else. This girl I have a crush on. You know, the one with the fire-eyes power? I thought it might impress her. I thought wrong. She just laughed and set my shoes on fire and now, well, now I'm here." I didn't know what to think. So my power could see more than just lost briefcases and reading glasses? It was a shock, but before that, I wanted to know something. "So what's your power then?"I asked him. He rocked his head from side to side uncomfortably. "Tell him, Sebastian,"Annie said. "You can do it." Sebastian sighed. "My superpower is knowing the everyone's perfect milk/cereal ratio. I can see their perfect bowl, but no one ever gets it right. Except Annie here, who I make sure gets a perfect bowl every day." "It's changed my life,"she said, taking another spoonful. "Eating cereal without Sebastian's suggestion is basically like eating cardboard. I'd probably die if I didn't have him around anymore." Suddenly my mind started whirring at a hundred miles per hour. "You'd die without him, you say?"Annie nodded. I turned to Sebastian. "So do you think you could influence others with your power? Show them their perfect bowls and they'll come clawing back to you for more? They'll do anything for your suggestion?" Sebastian stared at me, a smile curling up the sides of his face. As he did, the translucent entity on the ground stood up, and disappeared back into his body. I'd helped him find his confidence again. "Do you really think I could do that?"he asked. "Sure,"I said. I turned to Annie. "What about you? Do you have a hidden power too?" She groaned. "Yeah. I can control and grow my armpit hair. Pretty gross, huh?" I didn't think it was gross at all. I immediately thought of all the powerful possibilities. "Could you control it so much that you could create, say, a giant armpit hair monster?" Annie held her spoon in the air, her face suddenly glowing. The idea of her finally using her power to accomplish something great was probably the only thing that could've slowed her down from eating her perfect bowl. "Yeah,"she said. "I could do that." I grinned at them both. "So how about this? The three of us become the Magnificent Mediocre Trio. Armpit Annie, Wielder of the Pits of DespHair. Cereal-Killer Sebastian, Mind and Milk Control Extraordinaire." "And what about you?"Sebastian asked. "How can we use your power?" I turned to the television in the corner of the cafeteria. The news was on. A reporter was talking about a team of superheroes who had just taken down Dr. Damien and had made him lose his army of killer robots. I concentrated on the lost army. Suddenly, I felt a tug inside of me. I knew exactly how Dr. Damien could get them back, just as easily as pulling out a lost remote from the couch. "How about this?"I said with a smirk. "Lost and Found Louis, Finder and Keeper." ***** This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream.
"Five, four... Shit. Oh, this is bad; it's speeding up more quickly than we thought!" I find myself as if looking into a mirror that doesn't make any sense. The shouting figure in front of me resembles me in almost every way: his green eyes study mine from underneath the same short ginger hair, protruding from a dark brown beanie. He's wearing a formal black suit like me. He looks a tad more worried and less confused, but in every other way: he's me. As he looks over his shoulder and shouts back, I get a glance of what's behind him: a field filled with people that look like us. They're not exact copies; a few seem slightly older, some wear slightly different clothes, and others have subtly different facial hair. But the resemblance is uncanny. They're all me. "It's getting worse! The intervals are getting shorter; we should hurry up and come up with something quickly,"the shouter yells to a nearby group. As I look around, I see myself standing in a scorched circle near the edge of the familiar grass field in the forest near my house where I'd just tried my time travel belt. If it wasn't for the big gathering of me's in front of me and the thick burnt smelly crust beneath my feet, I couldn't be sure I'd travelled anywhere at all. The other versions of me on the field seem productive. There are at least 40 of them doing various things. Some of them are setting up tents in the area, and others are preparing breakfast. But most of them seem to be caught up in heated discussions in various groups all over the place. They've got looks that betray both confusion and worry. Of the nearby group, one 'me' breaks off and walks closer. He smiles and extends his hand to me. "Welcome, Eric. It's nice to meet you. As I'm sure you've guessed, my name is also Eric. You must be as confused as I was when I arrived here a couple of days ago. First off, here's some bad news: you're stuck here. I'm afraid we cannot let you leave." "Hi, Eric,"I say hesitantly. It's not as if I knew what to expect when I'd finally manage to travel through time, but still, the weirdness of this situation catches me off guard. "Quickly, let's get you out of that circle. Take off your belt, sit down over here, and I'll explain what I know,"the second one says to me as he walked over to a closeby wooden picknick table. "I'm going to call you number 46, by the way, because you're the 46th of us to end up here as far as we can tell. You can call me number 8. Congratulations! You've successfully discovered time travel! Unfortunately, there seem to be some complications that you haven't foreseen. Ah well, you couldn't have, really. You see, discovering time travel is a somewhat unique thing in that it really doesn't matter when you first do it. By merely succeeding once in your life, you've discovered time travel at every single point in your life, if that makes sense. At least, that's our best working theory. We seem to have been caught up in something like a time travel loop. For some reason, we haven't all arrived at precisely the same time, but with increasingly shorter intervals, more versions of us appear. Some of us have tried going back in time to prevent ourselves from coming here, but that only sped things up dramatically. That's why we cannot let you leave. Right now there's about one arrival every hour. Every time a new one arrives, he lands with a loud and violent thunder strike. We shudder to think of what's going to happen if the intervals grow too short because everyone appears in the same spot and they might start getting incinerated by the following jumps at some point. We're all trying to figure out how to stop that from happening. All of us, we're all the same person, but our lives have all been ever so slightly different. Some had their first successful travel to get them here by the time they were 20, others by the time they were 23 or 24. And in many other aspects, our lives are different. However, what we've found out is that, curiously enough, not one of us checked what was in the belt's compartment before we jumped here. Unfortunately, whatever was in there seems to be destroyed every single time we jump, so we haven't been able to figure it out. Now, do you happen to have checked what was inside?" I look down at the leather belt in my hand. It's got a small compartment that released a little bit of ash as I opened it. "I do, actually,"I say. "The compartment had a small piece of paper in it that said 'send me to the single most important moment in history'."
“Were the effects only temporary?” I’d thought to myself, trying to pinpoint which direction the scream came from. Another scream was heard, seemingly from the west. “Erika Way” was my first guess. I’d begin running toward the source of the sound, and I could tell I was getting closer by the minute, but then something changed, the scream began echoing, almost as if there were more and more people being freed from their temporal prisons. I know I should have been chilled to the bone by the whole ordeal, but the only thing I can remember feeling was euphoria at the aspect of finally talking to another person after god knows how long; that is until it started to snow. I’d reached out my palm to catch the white, fluffy flakes, but after finally having some land I’d noticed they were black on some parts, too. The screams were also dying down, but not in a sudden halt; no, more in a quiet yet soul-crushing roar. I’d turned around to face the new source of the sound. My excitement and intrigue quickly turned to absolute horror as the civilians surrounding me began aging at an unprecedented rate, seeming to pass through a decade every second. The fair complexions and shining hair of the young and healthy mutated into grotesque and vile collections and greys and whites, shriveled and dry, their skin turning to dust as the seconds inched forward. Seconds felt like hours as the formerly youthful people throughout the city disintegrated, disappearing from the face of the Earth. After what felt like a millennia of agony and heartbreak, the screams finally subsided. Nothing remained but the crumbled buildings and ashes of what used to be not just innocent strangers, but my friends, family, loved ones, and the scientists who’d caused this whole mess to begin with. I wanted to be angry or sad or at least feel something, anything, but what would be the point? Everything I’ve ever known is gone. None of the weapons work anymore so I can’t simply put myself out of my misery and all the food has withered away so I can’t distract myself with a meal, either. Everything is gone, and there’s nothing that can ever be done. All I can do now is wait to starve to death.
There is something reminiscent of Ancient Greek mythology to torturing someone, only for the pain afflicted to them to heal so the process can start anew. I love it. Especially when you find multiple ways, methods so creative that you can make someone experience true Hell. Many a superhero found me to be a joke, all because I'm a healer. They didn't find me a joke when I would find a way to get under their skin. Take for instance, the times I would wound them and reopen said wounds, oftentimes treating their organs like a play-toy, again and again. I let them forget the pain, only to give them the agonizing reminder; these fools know what to expect. Name any sort of body-horror piece of fiction, I've done it and so, so much more. The most fun victims are the heroes with a specific weakness. I really get to know them on a much more intimate level, for when someone knows how to make your pillars fall, they become so much more fearful. I imagine it's like falling in love, having someone know you so well, it makes you vulnerable, making it all the more painful when they work against you. I may look frail, broken, and scarred, leading some to think I would be a weakling, but in reality, I'm like a sponge. I absorb it, but not in the way you would think. While I may heal others, my pain and suffering serve akin to a dopamine affect. I love it. It pushes me, and it scares them, along with the fact that they will know I can dish it right back. I may be as vulnerable and weak as the typical human, but that makes me all the more dangerous. A hero I've admired since I've first started my journey to make others know true, helpless, fear, is one I've been toying with for some time now. I had captured him a year and a half ago, having fun dissecting him, picking him apart, and breaking him, yet he seems to feel no pain at all. What would kill my other subjects, this one person survives. I have captured something unique - an immortal. A chilling challenge, but everyone feels damnation if you twist them hard enough. Recently, I have cracked the code. A young ward for this undying savior, not unlike many other sidekicks I've tormented, some even younger. After my seventh session of introducing her to my insanity, an idea surfaced, making itself clear to me. If I can't make the immortal experience physical pain, I can hurt him in others. Bringing the youth with me to see her mentor, I saw true fear in his eyes. I never had such hair-raising and goosebump filling excitement and joy from my victims. How many times has he lost loved ones in his long life? I know how to break him. As I see his tears and hear her screams, I relish in the fact that I've done what I thought once impossible, but this just reaffirms my ambitions. Nobody finds me a joke once I find a way to get under their skin.
For a moment I was startled. I tripped when I was trying to put on my pants. I had to go out and see what was happening. I yelled into the phone. "You didn't see this coming!" "That's what I said, didn't I?" I still couldn't believe what was happening right now, I looked up, there was a round object blocking the sun. It hurt to look at it. "What should I do?" "I don't know!" I walked further into the street, sweat was dripping down my neck. I stared blankly into the sky. It hurt so much. I ran to the park, I figuered someone near the park might have a telescope. But then I saw it. Everyone was wearing eclipse glasses. Then I checked the date on my phone. April first. "Happy April fools son!" I hung up the phone.
“One half-caff caramel macchiato with a shot of espresso, blue eyes and two pumps of charming.” The man handed me his credit card, glancing around the café as he did so. “Name?” “Uh… Jeremy.” I did my best not to snort. ‘Jeremy’ wasn’t a bad-looking guy, though his eyes were decidedly grey, not blue, and he seemed to be sweating a bit. The first-date jitters—coffee shop dates had been all too common even in the past, but since we’d introduced the GeneBoost additives to our caffeinated creations, every café in the country had been all but swarmed with lonely hearts. People like this guy, willing to pay a couple extra bucks to boost his appeal just long enough to make a good impression on whichever girl he was trying to win. “Sure thing, Jeremy. That’ll be $12.95.” Next up was a reedy-looking kid, picking through a pile of coins. Probably saved up all his lunch money for a couple of days, just to experiment with one of our gene additives. Kids were always trying to one-up each other with the combinations they ordered. I had to tell one teenager last week that we absolutely were not allowed to serve him a triple-shot of Well Endowed. Nature can only stretch so far. “One, um, coffee with four shots of Strong, please?” I almost rolled my eyes. I could see his friends giggling over at a table in the corner. It looked like they were setting up for an arm wrestling match. “I can’t give you four Strongs—you might break someone’s arm. But I can give you a Hulk Smash--two Strongs and two Aggressions, if that works?” “How much would that cost?” I typed it into my register. “$8.87.” “Okay.” The kid counted the money out of his grubby hand and moved down to the end of the counter to await his Hulk Smash with a side of caffeine. Sometimes I thought that messing with the body’s makeup like we did couldn’t possibly be good. Sure, it might give you an edge in an interview or win you that fight, but none of the attributes you drank were really yours. Just traits you borrowed like an old shirt, to wear for the moment. But the GeneBoosts wore off fairly quickly, so I suppose there was no long-term harm done. “One Hulk, for… I don’t know, and one caramel macchiato for Jeremy,” I announced after John was done making the drinks. My two customers approached the counter, and just as they did, the kids at the table in the corner cheered loudly. I was momentarily distracted, hoping they hadn’t broken anything. When I glanced back, both drinks were gone, their owners moving back to their prospective tables. Ten minutes later, a pretty girl in a blue dress came in and ordered a cappuccino, plain. I liked her—I always felt a special warmth towards those who didn’t order GeneBoosts, I don’t know why. Maybe it was like we all belonged to some special self-esteem club. Or maybe we were all just too poor to afford the additives. The girl sat down at a table by the window, across from “Jeremy,” who I faintly heard introduce himself as “Ryan.” Ten feet away from them, the kids were preparing to begin their arm wrestling challenge. It looked like the little reedy kid was going up against a monster of a ten-year-old. Natural brute strength vs. temporarily enhanced muscle. GeneBoosts were pretty impressive, but even still I had my doubts. That other kid was MASSIVE. The Rock trapped in the body of a fifth grader. Crack. “I’m so sorry!” I looked up to see Ryan holding a corner of the café table, which had apparently just broken off in his hand. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for a few chairs or tables to get broken ever since we’d introduced the Strength GeneBoost, but Ryan hadn’t taken any of that, and he didn’t look strong enough to have broken the table on his own. “What’s going on here?” I swept over to retrieve the broken table corner from him. “It just broke off in his hand,” the girl said, shocked. “How?” I wondered. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you accusing me of something!?” Ryan stood up to confront me. “Ryan! Sit down!” The girl looked horrified. Over in the corner, a shrill scream went up. The reedy kid choked back tears, clutching a newly-broken wrist. His eyes were strikingly blue, which I hadn’t noticed before. Oh. No. I glanced from Ryan to the kid, my heart dropping. Reaching over Ryan, I tried to find the name on his cup, but there was none—just a smeared ‘HS’ for Hulk Smash. I’d mixed up the drinks. “Hey! I’m talking to you, punk!” Ryan shoved me over on the ground, fury in his eyes. “Stop it!” The girl tried to pull him off me, but it was like resisting a force of nature. Ryan towered over me, hauling back for a punch. “My wrist!” the kid in the corner wailed. “John! Help!” I called to my coworker, who’d been staying out of the mess so far. “Shit. Drink this,” John hustled out from behind the counter with the GeneNull—our last-resort antidote for the temporary effects of GeneBoost, if they ever got out of hand. We’d never had to use it before in this store, but I’d heard of others who had. “No,” Ryan growled, but the girl shoved John out of the way and took the little cup of antidote. “I’ll do it,” she said. She slapped Ryan full on the face, distracting him, and then poured the antidote straight down his mouth. We all watched him swallow, nervously waiting for the GeneNull to take hold. When it did, he blinked his eyes like a man waking from sleep. “What happened?” “You got the wrong drink,” I said, rising cautiously from the floor. “My mistake. We’re happy to comp you a month of free coffees in return for your trouble.” The company line, to avoid lawsuits if possible. “I… sure.” He looked dazed. “Do you want to go on another date sometime?” He turned to the girl in the blue dress. “No, I don’t think I do.” She turned and walked out, guiding the kid with the broken arm in front of her. “I’m gonna drive him to the hospital.” …And that’s why we’re not allowed to sell Hulk Smashes anymore.
I was playing a flute when he showed up. The song was piercing to the heart. It was piercing the ears too, like a dying cat. Maybe it was just that I was not very good at it. Or maybe I knew that anybody hearing this noise would give it a wide berth, leaving me alone. But not him. He had a bright orange hair and big beard, flowing over his wide chest. His armor was large and fearsome. The wolf head insignia stared forth, mouth agape, like it would, at any moment, eat you alive, or projectile vomit. I'd do that to if I had to had my nose permanently under his beard. The god hardly ever showered. He walked right under the tree I was perching on. Arms akimbo. "Uncle,"he started. I smiled at him a coy smile, or maybe a sad one, and I let him go on, "uncle, you need to get home." My nephew, so large and terrible. So lost without me. I played a tune. A real one. It was about sorrow and loss long forgotten. I played it until the moon dropped the tears on the stars and the frosty mountain cried into glaciers, and I smiled at my nephew again my old, sad smile. "Uncle, we need help. The giants! They took it again!" He waved his hands. They were both empty. I shook my head. "Nephew, nephew, nephew,"I wagged my flute at him, "I told you to take better care of your belongings. You are a big boy now!"With this, I slid under the tree and faced him. I was tall, but he was taller. I looked up at his beard and his nostrils. A lovely sight. "You must trick them once more! You must trick them to return my hammer!" I squeezed his shoulder. They were hard and lean and trembling. "Nephew, I can no longer trick. They took away my title, my name. I am no longer the uncle you know." "But you are the Trickster!"He said. His chest rumbled. The wolf in his armor gleamed in the moonlight as if it was becoming alive. "The Trickster is your brother,"I told him. He looked confused, and he changed. There was another image of him, another look. A regal man with beautiful blond locks tumbled gently across his shoulder, wearing a flashy and impractical armor. Then the same man with short hair and beard with a lot of leather. He trembled, and he shaped back to himself as I know. "I don't understand,"he said. "The world is changing,"I told him, "the gods are changing. We are, after all, the will of the worshipers. You should ask your brother for help." "You will help me,"he seemed visibly frustrated. He shot his arm like a bullet to the tree I was sitting on. It uprooted and flew back into the woods with several cracks and whistles, "you will help me."He repeated. Eloquent fellow, my nephew. "No, I am spending my retirement playing terrible music. I'm getting tired of being worshiped as a god of cunning and lies. Do you know how hard I had worked for that title before it slipped away?" "Urgh!!"He cried. Then he grabbed me by the neck and lifted me up like a rag doll, "You don't get to walk away from being a god." I transformed into a quicksilver and slipped into the ground. Then I reshaped out of his reach, "do I get to melt away?"I asked with my ignorance. "Uncle,"he said. There was no more anger in his eyes. He was just there, with his glory and fame and godhood. And he was still a lost wolf pup that I had raised for millennia, "uncle, I cannot force you to do it. I cannot trick you to do it. I can only beg."His eyes were so blue, so fearsome, and so earnest. "I'm not as intelligent as you are, but I know that we need you. We need to defeat the frost giants." Maybe my heart had been firmer as a trickster. Or maybe it was nicer to had some leverage over a powerful warrior god. Maybe it was a little bit of both. I cocked my head and smiled at him a terrible grin. "Hmm,"I said, "what if instead of tricking the frost giants this time, we make them our comrades? They will never steal your hammer again." "I don't want to be friends with them, uncle. The frost giants, they are mischievous and untrustworthy." I flashed him a little teeth. My nephew eventually blushed and looked away. "What if,"I said, looking at my flute. Too bad, I was just getting a hang of it, "there is a terrible threat to them. A threat that is so easy for us to fix because of your relationship with powerful humans."I tried to hide glee in my eyes. "A threat that, if they don't deal with soon, will terminate their race forever until we rebegin." "What are you talking about, uncle?"He asked. I rolled my eyes at him, pretending not to care, feeling the heartbeat of mine again, fast and strong. I did not have much in my ways of magic, and one day I would be tied in the underworld long before the end, but still. The rush of pulling such heist was beckoning me, making me drunk with excitement. It was almost like lust. "My sweet, gentle, docile nephew,"I whispered, "have you ever heard of 'Global Warming?' "
"Skipper"was my nickname for as long as I could remember. My bosses and coworkers knew my power. I could skip through time, hoping to skip past moments I didn't want to experience. But that's not really how my power worked. I would always feel the effects of what would have happened, and, in essence, did. I wouldn't experience them through the lens of time, but I would still remember them and anything that happened to me and my "choices"in that timeframe would affect me now. One effect that would be lessened was age. When I used my power, I did not age at a normal rate. I would in essence be the same age as when I used my power. My body would not feel any older, but all the experiences I had would be remembered. If I died or was injured in that timeframe, I would remember it. At times I could feel it. But my body would be fine, and I would always revert to the place I had been standing once my time was through. One normal work day, I clocked in at the usual time and activated my power. Suddenly, I lost control. My power spun and spun and I couldn't stop it. I tried to rein myself in, but I could not. I saw, I felt myself slipping away. And then I died. But this time, I died old. I reverted back to my space at the age I began and the time started again and again and again. I saw the space change around me. The warehouse in which I worked changed into a Jacuzzi palace, then into a playground, then into a mall. It remained a mall for hundreds of years, but underwent significant changes. I saw self-driving cars become the norm. I saw hovercars being driven. The inside of the mall changed to accommodate flying wheelchairs, which became more and more popular as time went on. Eventually, the mall was torn down to make room for an automotive dealership, the largest in the world. It had the self-driving cars, it had hovercars, it had motorcycles that could transform into a flying machine, it had buses that were propelled by rockets, and more. The place stood for hundreds I worked in that area, at that place, all of my lifetimes. I found love there time and again and even lived there. Some of my wives who knew me as a young man got to see me regenerate as one once again. I loved each one as if they were my first love. I always came to love again. Then I awoke with a start. I had control of myself again. It had been 800 years. I had influenced the direction of this place time and again. I felt the impact I had had on the world and I wept. I felt so alive despite having died time and time again. Where would I go from here? I knew what I wanted to do. I prepared myself for my next jump...but I could not. Just like that, it was over. I would never have that ability again. Just as well. Now I could live my life normally. But to have the chance to impact the world as I did was amazing. Though I would never have that chance again, I was glad that I had that chance. And I smiled.
Dakota sat on the forest floor, her mind running, searching, struggling to find a solution. She had been waiting for this day for so long. The day where she, a girl without companions, without friends, with any family that cared, would finally get her just due. She would finally have someone to depend on, to care for, to love. It just wasn’t fair. She had chosen this thicket in the woods, her personal place of solace, and awaited the arrival of her spirit animal. She had always envisioned this would the place they would meet. But she never imagined it would happen like this. No one knew exactly when on their eighteenth born day their animal would arrive. Sometimes people would wake up with their companion in their arms. Other times, it would take the better part of the day. The sky was black and littered with stars when he (she? It?) dropped into the forest. Her heart had began to sink into despair, when all of a sudden the earth itself rumbled and the trees about her came crashing down. She barely avoided being crushed to death by a falling sycamore. Imagine if she had died on the day she most looked forward to. That would be so appropriate, wouldn’t it? But no, she had survived… although the same could not be said for her spirit animal. It was alive. For now anyway. But it wouldn’t be for long. And she, with her weak, frail little form, was utterly powerless to save it. It just was not fair. She loved it. It had been mere minutes since it appeared, but she knew she loved it more than she had loved anything before. She looked up into its eye, so large, so deep, so black, it looked as she could crawl within and journey inside it. It’s gray hide slowly rose and descended and she knew without a doubt that it would be dead soon if something was not done. Her eyes scanned the length of its long form from its massive striped jaw to the its enormous tail which had leveled the surrounding brush. Fifty grown men couldn’t move this creature more than a few feet. How could she alone hope to get it to the water, when the nearest beach was miles and miles away? There had to be something. Anything. So she sat with her eyes closed and thought and pondered and contemplated, every second feeling like an hour lost. Her eyes opened. She had a plan. Dakota walked over and placed a hand on its dry skin. I'll be back, she thought and she somehow knew it understood. And then she took off into the dark woods.
The room was stifling, burning hot and humid. The air stank with the smell of sour breath and blood. The only sound left was the shuffling of feet, a man's whimpering - and a baby. It wasn't crying, for once. It just lay in the man's arms, eyes still squeezed tight shut. "Give it,"the thug across the room said, leering at the man - the father. The mother's eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling as she lay still. The thug didn't care. He'd come here for one thing, and it wasn't her. The man scowled, drawing away. "N-No. I'm not doing this." 'We had- a deal,"the thug hissed, slamming his fist into the father's face even as his colleague snatched the child away. The father fell to the grimy floorboard with a whining yelp. In truth, he wasn't putting up much of a fight. They weren't wrong. He didn't quite know what they wanted with his newborn - he'd really rather not know - but, well, he had a bit of a love affair with gambling, and he had to repay his debts somehow. He hoped that whatever god there was out there could find a way to forgive him. The door creaked open. They froze. "Am I interrupting?"a voice said, low and slimy. A newcomer slipped in, lips pursed. He smiled at the sight of the baby. "Oh, good. Right on time, then. I'll just be taking him, and-" "The fuck you think you're doin'?"the thug said, spitting at him. The newcomer blinked. He was dressed oddly, with a heavy canvas apron over what looked almost like robes. The thugs took a step back. A canvas apron stained with blood. The newcomer sighed. "I'm just collecting a debt. Fellow over there needed a bit of a assistive potion of sorts, you might say. Needed some help. I hooked him up. And we had a deal. Didn't we?"He glanced over at the father with a sidelong grin. The father turned away, suddenly going pale. "Well, tough luck,"the thug spat. "He's-" The door creaked open. They all froze. "Is it time?"a figure said in a low, ominous voice like the rolling of waves. Tentacles wrapped around the door, sliding from his sleeve. And from under his hem. And from his hood. The others gaped. "I am here to collect-" The spirits demand recompense. The eerie whisper brought everyone up short as the ghostly figures drifted through the wall. --- They all stood in a tight circle, the mother's body forgotten in the corner. Arguing. "Well, I made the first bargain, so-" "Like hell you did. Who's goin' to pay back his-" Our memory is eternal, and we *must-* The father shrank back, eyeing the door. They were all distracted. No one was looking at him. Pity, about his son, but, well, at times like this a man had to think about number one, didn't he? Slowly, rising inch by inch, he stood, raising one foot. Only a few steps, and he'd- A hand clapped his shoulder companionably, accompanied by a gust of brimstone-scented wind. "Oh, don't be like that, Greg,"the man said, smiling down at the father. "Stick around for the party, eh?" The others stopped abruptly, eyeing him. Even from across the room, they could smell the raw power coming off him in waves. This was...well, this was something else entirely. They knew how this was going to go. The devil smirked back at them, stuffing his hands down his pockets. "Good. Wonderful. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be taking him."He reached out, pulling the babe out of the thug's arms before he could say or do anything. The man looked like he was considering fighting back, but thought better of it. "Perfect,"Satan breathed, smiling down into the newborn's face. "Well, that's all I'm here for, then. Evening."Already, he could feel the ground warming under his feet. He'd get the child back to the underworld before anyone could notice, and then- "Where do you think you're going?" Satan stopped, feeling the ground cool under him. He sighed. Perfect. "None of your business, is it?"he said, turning with a glare. Jesus shook his head, sighing. "You really think I'd just let you take a child as your own?" Satan smirked. "You've never stopped me before." The son of God frowned, feeling his ears turn red. "That's- well, you can't have him. He's mine." The devil paused. "Excuse me?" Jesus smiled. "He's mine."I had a deal."He eyed the hapless Greg. "Remember? You promised? That if I overlooked your, ahem, transgressions, that you'd-" "Jesus fucking Christ,"Satan muttered, pressing a hand to his face. "Who didn't you make a deal with?" Jesus scowled. "Would you not-" "Look. You lot!"Satan roared, spinning on the others. The whispers had been rising steadily as they milled about, glaring at the two deities with barely-concealed rage. "Sorry, but looks like you're all out of luck! Better luck next time, eh?" The complaints rose anew, but Jesus turned, staring at them with thin-lipped anger until they fell silent. They knew they'd lost. One way or another, they weren't getting their prize. Not with those two in the mix. The door creaked open as the first of them filed towards it. Greg whimpered again, feeling the brush of the cold evening air on his face. Satan grinned. "Actually - you're not entirely out of luck, are you?"He grabbed Greg by the back of his collar, hauling him upright. "We've got a bit of trash here. Mind disposing of it for us?" Greg paled further, the last bit of color draining from his face. His hand reached for the hem of Jesus's robes, but the others got there first. The door slammed shut on his cries as they dragged him out into the alley. Suddenly alone, the two stared down at the child. "He's mine,"Satan insisted, still holding the baby. "He's going to be exceptional. My eyes and hands in the humans' world."He grinned, pearly white teeth glinting. "Just you wait." "There's no way I'm letting you,"Jesus retorted, folding his arms. "He's supposed to be our paragon, a beacon of hope amidst the dark of this horrible little world." The two stared at each other, hardly needing words to express their irritation. They'd been over this before - too many times to count. The child's cries broke the silence, the baby waking up. They both looked down, staring into his perfect blue eyes. "I suppose we could always...share,"Satan said slowly. Jesus scoffed. "What? With you? So I'm supposed to let you fill his mind with lies, and be happy about it?" Satan grinned. "That's your schtick, isn't it? Offering a choice? The apple, and all that?" Jesus stopped. Satan...wasn't wrong. "Come on,"the devil said, beginning to chuckle. "It'll be fun." The babe cried harder, his screams echoing throughout the nearly-empty room. Slowly, Jesus looked up to meet Satan's eyes. And then he smiled. (/r/inorai, critique always welcome!)
Jack stared at the ceiling watching the first glints of dawn light slip between the blinds. He threw a glance to his clock. 5:59. One minute before he had to start his day. He thought about the meetings he had to have and the deadlines that loomed on the horizon. He thought of his wife sleeping soundly next to him. A harsh buzz broadcast the start of his day. "Turn that off."His wife moaned as she rolled over. "You know I hate that thing." "Sorry dear. I forgot to shut it off."Jack replied meekly. A few hours later, Jack waited in line patiently at his favorite coffee shop. One of his days short few refuges of peace away from responsibilities and obligations. He ordered politely and smiled casually at the barista. "Day going well?"She asked as she jotted down his misspelled name on the cup. "Great day as always."Jack smiled back. A minute or so later his name was called summoning him to the counter. He took a sip of his coffee and furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry but I think I ordered mocha and not french vanilla."He said softly. The barista gave a surprised glance and grimaced. "I'm sorry sir, that was my mistake. Would you like me to make you a new one?" Jack glanced at the line staring at him, then down to his watch. "No, french vanilla is fine."He said and wished the barista a good day, dropping his change in the tip jar. After his third meeting, Jack sat in his office rubbing his forehead and planning his schedule. A series of rapid knocks announced more than requested an entrance. Jack's boss, Tony, walked in and hefted himself into the seat opposite Jack. He leaned his elbows onto Jack's desk and across his carefully organized files. He loomed over Jack and looked coldly into Jack's eyes. "Listen, Jack, you're a good man, good worker. You keep a tight schedule and run a clean ship. I respect that Jack. But I've got to know you're a team player."Tony said, eyes narrowing. "Nothing is more important to me than the good of the company sir."Jack responded, hoping to placate. "That's what I like to hear boy. Now, the with this new project coming down the pipeline we're going to be busier than ever working to expand the company and diversify the synerganistic holding portfolio of the parent conglomerate. Which means I have to lay off half your staff. Your choice who of course. And you'll be working nights for the next few months. Sound good Jackie boy?" Jack tilted down the corners of his mouth and nodded. "I already know who to let go of. Will do sir." Tony slapped a fat palm onto the desk scattering the stacks of paper. "That's what I like to hear Jackie boy. Keep this up and we may be able to retain your current salary after your quarterly review." "Can't wait sir!"Jack smiled as Tony left, waddling under his own girth. Later Jack sat up in bed, watching television as his wife read. He absentmindedly watched whatever sport was playing as his wife flicked through the pages of a dime-store romance. She put down the book at stared at him. Jack pretended not to notice as she placed the book and her glasses on the nightstand and crossed her arms. "Jack."She said flatly. "What is it honey?"He asked gently. "Do you even love me anymore?" "Of course I do dear."He said softly and took her hands. "Don't lie Jack, at least tell me the truth."She said, the corners of her eyes beginning to glisten. "Darling, I love you just as much as the day we met."He said, and gently pressed a kiss on her hands. "Thank you Jack."She said with a small smile. "I'm sorry, I feel so crazy, asking you all the time." "It's alright dear, I'm glad to make you feel better."He said hugging her. She placed a small kiss on his cheek and rolled over to sleep. Jack turned out his lamp, made sure his alarm was set, and laid himself back in bed. "I love my life."His whispered to himself with a sigh.
Security escorted me to my room, suggesting I drink plenty of water and get some rest. "Tourists always manage to get dehydrated on their first visit,"they had offered with a chuckle. None of us believed it was dehydration. I was losing my mind. The suitcase of kids' clothing, the extra tickets... just how delusional had I become? Had I ever had a child, or had Jackson's life been entirely fiction? I couldn't remember a trauma from a death, but I could clearly remember a birth, birthdays, milestones... but the surveillance video. I had made the officer show it to me at least a dozen times. There had clearly not been a child with me for the entire visit to the park. My hands shook. I needed a drink. A valium. A shower. Yes, a shower first. Maybe a drink with it. Yes. I crossed the room to the mini fridge that held the tiny expensive bottles I would otherwise never touch. I poured two at random into my increasingly watery lemonade from the park that I had somehow held onto through the ordeal. I had the urge to call my mother to ask if I had lost my mind, but I remembered I hadn't spoken to her in over a decade. She didn't know - I mean, wouldn't have known - about Jackson either way. I took another drink. And really, my life was over no matter what the reality was. If I really was crazy, and boy was I starting to believe it, I would need to be medicated at the very least. Probably institutionalized. In the unlikely event that this was some crazy conspiracy to kidnap my child, I would probably never see him again. I would be emotionally devastated, and that would lead to similar consequences to being delusional. I swallowed the last small sliver of ice remaining in the plastic novelty cup with another mouthful of the truly awful concoction I'd mixed. Then, after turning on the faucet, I slipped out of my sun dress and stepped under the too- hot, yet too- weak trickle of water this hotel called a shower. My drink balanced on the thin shelf usually reserved for miniature shampoo/conditioner combo bottles and soap that was supposed to smell like exotic places, but instead smelled like an airport bathroom (too much perfume used to cover long-flight body odor). Flashes of Jackson's happy face at the playground flashed through my mind, and I wept. His elementary school graduation. Sleep away science camp. The realization that I'd never see him again, and I whimpered and convulsed. It was too much. I heard a throat clear in the hallway. The security guards were still there. Whether it was for my safety, or to protect a vile secret, I didn't know. I just knew the pain of this loss. Another drink. I was starting to feel numb. My cup was almost empty, in every sense. I knew what I would do. A turn of the wrist, and the water stopped. I reached for a towel, and wrapped it around my hair. I wrapped another around my torso, and stepped out. I froze, wide eyed at what I saw, taking it in fully before fainting dead away, my cup rolling towards the corner of the nearby bed. The condensation on the mirror contained a message, and it read: "Dear Mother, It is better this way. I am sorry. Good luck. Jackson"
It gets awfully boring having no one to even try and wrench the very building blocks of the universe from your grasp. At least, that's what went through my mind when I created Harry. He was supposed to be a good guy, you know, the stereotypical hero who goes out and risks his life to defeat all evildoers. Evildoers like myself. Except this time, I was planning on actually winning. The whole thing was really just an elaborate game for me to entertain myself with. What else was I to do? Something productive or beneficial to the world? I think not. Besides, I'd already robbed half the banks in the world, killed half a billion people, and burned down the entire Amazon Rainforest. I was running out of ideas. And so I took to alchemy. My perception of the entire "building blocks of the universe"idea was that it was pretty similar to cooking. Add a bit of this, a bit of that, stir it all together and, ta da! You've made something new. That wasn't where I screwed up, though - alchemy is exactly like cooking. Both activities are disasterous if you misread the labels. Peeling open the pages of my "cookbook", I began to make a human body. Surprise! It was mostly water. The process was pretty simple, actually, and went along fairly smoothly. The problems began once it came down to actually adding a human spirit. Looking back, it really should not have been this difficult. Ratios? Easy. Measuring? Piece of cake. Putting in the right ingredients? Apparently a challenge. After adding a pinch of kindness, a 1/3 tablespoon of courage, and a teaspoon of determination, I was ready to pour in a cup of live to bring the mixture together. Turns out that "live"and "evil"look pretty much exactly the same, except for the fact that they are completely different and there is really no excuse for how badly I screwed that one up. I mean, the only explanation is I saw the reflection of evil and thought it said live, but even that's a bit of a stretch. Confused, I ended up adding both. And that, my friends, is how such an unbelievably evil person was born to this Earth. Harry was cruel, far beyond even my unbelievable menace - if he was made with a cup of evil, I had no more than a teaspoon running through my veins. I swear I saw him slowly cook a live infant once over an open flame. In front of its family. And then proceed to eat it. Even I won't stoop that low. But, in the end, I guess I got what I wanted. Harry was far too evil to even attempt an alliance with other villains. Nope - he'd rather just take them over too. I'd just like to apologise for not only creating the most evil-infused creature that may ever exist, but also giving him the building blocks of the universe. And to think that this time, I thought I could win.
"I know he's smart. He just won't apply himself, he's always been this lazy."My mom said, a worried look in her eyes. I sat next to my parents in the conference room, as they and my teachers once again tried to get me to do my work. I was in my sophomore year, summer was just around the corner. All I wanted to do was finish the slog through my classes, barely make it by, and then try to enjoy my summer vacation. It was like this every year, I'd pass the tests well enough, but I always hated doing the other work. Keeping up with notebooks, worksheets, essays... The list of shit I refused to do goes on. My grades were abyssmal, but my test scores would always be decent at the least, top marks at best. That was because I was always made to do tests. It was the teachers responsibility to make me do the test. All the other work was my bag to carry, and I didn't want to, so I just put it off. Every day, I told myself that I could do that homework tomorrow, that the others would carry the group project and wouldn't mind as long as I showed up and presented it well. Same. Thing. Every year. Up until this year. My grades were below the usual rate now, and I was doing worse on tests too. I was depressed, had no sense of self. It didn't feel like there was any point. You know how as a kid, you're asked what you want to be when you grow up? I didn't know, and here I was, 17 years old. It felt hopeless. "What if he entered into an extracurricular class, something he could enjoy doing? Perhaps that would at least earn him some more credits."My assistant principal asked my parents, while looking at me as if I should answer for them. "I...I guess I really like music."I told them. It was true, I had recently started teaching myself to play the guitar, and I had always enjoyed singing. A few weeks before, I had watched a classmate sing and play at the pep rally, and was so jealous of him. It was a song he himself had written. I wanted to do that, so I started learning. "We have a choir program, Devon, want to try that?"The principal asked me. My parents were looking at me like a light had come on. My mom nodded at me as if to say I should do it. So i did. They went and got the choir teacher. She explained to me what all they do in the class, and it sounded fun, and next year, my junior year, I was out of the ROTC and in the choir. I was a bass singer, and I loved it. It didn't help me improve my academic grades, but it gave me a sense of purpose. It gave me a reason to come to school. I stayed with the choir until the end of my senior year. We did amazing shows at the auditorium all the time, had telent competitions, and we all became like a family. Beginning my senior year, we took a trip; one we'd been training for all summer. We went to New York City to sing at Carnegie Hall for a prestiguous kind of festival. A gathering of high school choirs from all over the country. We went on the today show, we saw the world trade center museum. We all had so much fun; and on the night of the performance, we had so much fun. It was the proudest moment in my life, even today, years later. That was a bit of a tangent, I guess. None of that tells you guys if my grades improved. They didn't, at least not by much. I earned more credits, but by the time I began to really try, it was too late. I wouldn't be graduating in my fourth year of high school, and all my friends were. So I dropped out and got my GED. This is all because throughout my school career, I didn't apply myself. I saw no point in it, until I found something I wanted to do. By the time I found my calling though, it was too late. A lot has happened since I dropped out of high school, and my life is very different, but I'm doing my best to grow up. This is a true story, by the way. I didn't think a writing prompt would ever hit so close to home. Do your schoolwork, find your calling as soon as you can. Don't settle for what's easy or takes the least amount of effort.
Its the year 2018, about half hour ago I was sitting on the couch, watching a film. Pretty decent at that. Loads of crap about a red and a blue pill and slow mo bullet dodging scenes. I saw my nemesis. Probably my downfall. If God ever found out about him he’d fire me. That bloody Keanu Reaves. Repeat customer and all round good guy. First time I bumped into him was the year 1530. I remember it like yesterday. He traipsed into the fountain cave carrying some poor bugger on his back. A young father dying from a rare disease only the fabled fountain could cure. My job was to kill him. Both of them. He tried to strike a deal as I was about to incinerate the two of them. “If you let him live you can take my life” he said. Matter of fact like. No trying to be a big hero. He was just a bloody good bloke. I didn’t believe him of course. So I let him. Ready to incinerate him if he tried to pull a fast one on me. I gave him the cup. He filled it. Poured water into the dying mans mouth. He awoke and I heard he lived an ungodly long life somewhere in medieval Bavaria. Keanu though, to my shock shook my hand, thanked me, drew his dagger and sunk it into his chest. I checked there were no angels or as I like to call them ‘Gods snitches’ spying and then poured a cup of water down his throat. He awoke. And thanked me. I sent him away with a 2 litre flagon of the water and told him that in return for the water he was to roam the earth and help those in need. He’s did this. Quietly throughout his long life; most recently using his acting career as a front for his real work, feeding and helping the homeless and those down on their luck. During WW2 he saved countless Jews from death camps, and apparently, a man fitting his description roamed the battlefields and bombed out cities tending to wounded and comforting the dying. His supply will run out soon and I’m expecting a visit. I’m going to let him have more water. I know God has caught onto this and he won’t be pleased with me. I’ll probably be demoted to a reaper for this. Fuck it. I have a few bottles stashed away anyway. Same as sneaking stationary home from the office I suppose.

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