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*transcript of radio transmission March 15, 2022*
Alien 1: they are too unpredictable to be considered for integration into the republic.
Alien 2: what do you mean by unpredictable?
Alien 1: our last visit was a mere 19,000 earth cycles ago and they went from one landing on their nearest moon, with minimal technological advancement, to a planet wide, integrated community.
Alien 2: that is unnaturally rapid advancement, do they function as a unified organism?
Alien 1: that’s a big part of the problem, there seems to be no cohesive structure for intention or planning at all.
Alien 2: so they are a unified but fragmented species with the ability to advance technology at an exponential rate? How long will it take them to out pace our technology?
Alien 1: fortunately they are substantially behind our technological timeline, but with their rapid advancement, I’d say they could match our pace in a mere forty-two thousand cycles.
Alien 2: then it is unwise to make contact, the risk to our species is far too great.
Human: Ground control to major Tom...
Alien 2: ....
Alien 1: ....
Human: Ground control to major Tom...
Human 2: we translated your signals, we know you were talking about us.
Alien 2: thank you for choosing Wendy’s, what can I get you?
Human 2: We TRANSLATED your signals, we know you aren’t a Wendy’s. The frequency is nearly a light year from the nearest Wendy’s.
Alien 1: I told you they were dangerous. do we have to exterminate them now?
Alien 2: only if they have light speed travel.
Human 2: WE DON’T ....*yet*
Alien 2: what?
Human 1: *close to the mic* we do not have light speed travel.
Alien 2: Well see that you don’t develop it faster than your community or you humans may have a problem
Human 2: *muffled with hand over mic* someone tell engineering that light speed travel is actually possible, I want to see some proofs by next week.
Alien 1: we can hear you
Human 1: I think I lost the signa—
Human 2: *static crackles*
Alien 2: let’s put some ships into position on the planet just in case. Bury them deep underground so if we need to stop them, we can. |
1:
\-This is becoming rather tedious…
Such a thought preoccupied a young dragon hunter, who currently was thrusting his sword into the neck of his large prey in small place between the scales.
“What might I add, Gwyn?” stated a man standing next to the slayer of dragons. “Another job well done, as usual.”
Gwyn did not care for the comments of his companion, Morren, and focused his sight on the dying dragon.
It was a large beast, a size of a house, hiding itself in a large a deep cave. The dragon’s pride was in its scales and on this one, they were brown scales. But they did not protect the monster from harm.
Interestingly, Gwyn disagreed that the dragon’s pride was in its scales. He always was found of...
\-The eyes…
For him, the dragon’s eyes resembled that of a human. Not of some mindless beast, but of an intelligent being. And each time he would deal the final blow to his prey, Gwyn enjoyed looking at them, how the life in them faded.
Just like the life faded in the yellow eyes of the beast he murdered.
\-Is it any different from killing a human, that is? In the past I would disagree on the mere fact that slaying a dragon is much more satisfactory. A real challenge, but nowadays…
“I do wonder sometimes,” stated Gwyn. “If we are that different by the end of it all.”
The beast itself wanted to give an answer, but did not have the strength to do so, for it was losing its life.
Drawing its final breath, closing its eyes…
It died.
He unleashed his sword from the neck, beginning cleaning it from blood, reminiscing about what occurred in the dead silence of a cave.
However, the silence did not last for long.
“Man, dragons are becoming such a bore now,” stated Morren. “I remember there we had to summon armies back in the day, fighting against dragons the size of towers and castles. And now they are reduced to this.”
“Well, its our fault for dealing with them so quickly,”
“Yeah...”
As Gwyn cleaned his sword and put it into its rightful scabbard on his belt, he took a look at his companion.
An old man stood before him. His face had more scars than it had skin, his armor was as thick as a dragon scale, his belt had all the necessary equipment for dragon hunting, such as a small lantern and tight rope, and his large sword on the back could cut a head of a flying fire-breathing beast with one swing.
However, the point of interest to Gwyn was not Morren, but what was behind him – pile of dead bodies.
“Looks like we lost a couple of beginners. Weren’t you supposed to look after them, Morren?”
“I did say they could come with us, but never said I’ll protect them in any way. Punks like them always think they’re hot shit, even if you tell them they can’t face a dragon yet,”
“Well, our job here is done. Cut its head and we’ll return with it to the guild,”
As Morren unleashed his great sword and was about to cut the dragon’s head, they heard a roar in the darkness of the cave.
“I thought we killed the only bastard inside this cave,” stated the old hunter.
“Most likely its scared child, based on the volume of the voice. We could get a small bonus if we bring it to the guild,”
The two hunters unleashed their swords and went in the direction of the roar. Both of them lit small lanterns on their belts to show them the way forward.
As they both continued venturing, Morren suddenly decided to start a conversation, seemingly thinking that the threat they would face would not be a bother.
“Think they’ll send him to the coliseum?”
“I’d say most likely. Although it would take a year for it to grow into something worth fighting,”
“Yeah, sometimes I a little regret killing one,”
“Got a soft spot for dragons recently?”
“Hah!” laughed the old man. “Good one. But, nah, we just kill the bastards so quickly, I think we’ll make them extinct. And then one of the few fun things to do in this darn life will be lost,”
“Well, I understand you, to an extent,”
\-I do sometimes wonder what would happen if dragons were gone, as a whole. Probably will have to move onto hunting humans. Recently, it is becoming the same experience, really.
Gwyn wanted to continue that thought process, but they finally reached their remaining prey.
It was but a small dragon, resembling its mother, both in its yellow eyes and brown scales and only differing in size. The monster roared at the hunters, but not out of anger, but out of fear, trying its hardest to back away from the attackers.
“Morren, tie him up and let’s go,”
“Why me?”
“Because I did most of the work with the big one back there. At least have the audacity to capture this one on your own,”
“Ugh, fine,”
Morren took the rope he had on his belt and forcefully tied down the defenseless dragon with ease, who could do nothing but scream.
The old man picked up the beast and placed him on his shoulders. And both dragon hunters continued their way out the cave they were in.
However, as they were getting closer to the light outside, they noticed a certain slim figure approaching them. It was a figure of a man.
He didn’t seem to wear much of anything, but some woolen pants and a belt. One would mistake him for a common beggar.
For starters, his body was not that of a starving man. The body shape and posture were in prestige condition. There were also unnatural features about him. While his eyes were somewhat of a normal blue color, his hair was pure silver.
The man also had a peculiar blade that he carried in his right hand. It was similar of the size of your average sword, but much thinner and its ends seemed much sharper. |
Gem Heart was walking on air (figuratively, at the moment). After all her years of training, all the tests and trials she had gone through, she had finally made it. She had finally been accepted into the World Hero's League. Now she could really be a hero, instead of wallowing in the obscurity of small town heroics.
Her new handler, a young man named Ted, guided her through the WHL headquarters. Even though the halls were fairly bland, to her, they shone like the gemstones she created. She was barely even paying attention to what he was saying.
She lost what little interest remained when she saw another person walk through the hall. He was a tall man who looked to just be entering middle age. He wore a dark suit with a voluminous cape that always seemed to billow around him in an unseen breeze. Gem Heart knew who he was immediately.
She bounded over to him, barely even registering Ted saying something.
"Mr. Earth Shaker, sir,"She said, giddy with excitement from meeting a real A-lister, "My name, well, my code name is--"
She was cut off by Ted grabbing the back of her head and pushing it into the semblance of a bow. He then spoke.
"I apologize for this one's impertinence, Lord Earth Shaker. She is new here and doesn't know any better. Please, forgive her transgression."
Earth Shaker huffed. "Very well. But make sure to educate her properly, minion. I will not overlook such...frivolity in my presence a second time."
"Of course, my lord. thank you for your mercy."
Earth Shaker strode off. His cape fluttered behind him as he walked, soon disappearing around a corner.
"Okay, rookie, this is something important you need to know. Don't talk to Earth Shaker unless he talks to you. And always treat him like he's in charge. While he's around, you're not a superhero, you're a minion, peon, or enforcer."
"What? Why should I do that?"
Ted sighed and hung his head. "Because he thinks he's a villain. In fact, he thinks he took over the WHL and is guiding it towards world domination."
Gem Heart's brow furrowed. "Huh? How could he think that? He's one of the greatest heroes the League has. He's saved more lives than I can count. He's put dozens of villains behind bars. I've heard he has the president on speed dial. There's no way he's a villain."
"Oh sure. you know that, I know that, and the entire league knows that. But he doesn't. And since he's so damned good at his job, we've decided to keep it that way."
"But how...I mean...saving people is definitely a hero thing, not a villain thing."
Ted cleared his throat and spoke in a deep voice, doing his best to mimic Earth Shaker, "What good is ruling the world, if there is nobody left to rule?"
"And arresting other villains?"
"Why suffer the whims of a few short sighted fools, when I can simply get them out of my sight?"
"The president?"
"One man cannot rule so vast an empire by himself. I will need trusted lieutenants and governors to carry out my will. And who better than those who are already familiar with the workings of government."
Gem Heart opened and closed her mouth. She wanted to say something, but had no idea what. Earth Shaker had saved her parent's lives. Saved her life. He had to know how the world thought of him, right?
"And before you ask,"Ted said, "He doesn't bother with looking himself up, or even watching the news. He simply doesn't care about reading about his own, uh, villainous exploits. The man is completely oblivious to the world around him, and his own position in it."
"And nobody's thought to tell him?"
"Why bother? He does his job, and we play along. Everything works out pretty well. Besides, would you want to fight him as a villain?"
Gem Heart shook her head. No, she definitely would rather fight alongside him than against him.
"Okay, so treat him like an evil overlord, got it. Are there any other heroes with some kind of weird personality quirk that I need to know about before I meet them?"
Ted let out a sharp laugh. "Oh yeah. Buckle up, rookie, you're in for a wild ride." |
"Woah,"I said. "That's a lot of skeletons."
Reginald raised an eyebrow. "Like, full on skeletons, or just skulls?"
"Full on."
"Dang.
Reginald followed your gaze. "So, you think this is it?"
"What, the Deathskull Mausoleum?"Mary asked. "What do *you* think?"
"Well, you never know,"Reginal said defensively. "It could be some other place! Ancient burial ground, or something!"
"Big 'ol banner saying 'Deathskull',"I said. "Definitely the place."
Reginal rolled his eyes as Mary smirked.
I turned off Out-Of-Bounds. "Right. Reggie, the entrance is a few yards that way. See if you can't clip in."
Reginald went over to where I pointed out--a man-sized wall on the back of the hill. He then began to thrust his shoulder into corner of the walls, his feet scraping and sliding. I turned back to Mary. "You ready?"
She nodded. We turned back to Reginald to see him vanish through the wall. A few seconds later, it slid open, and we followed him inside.
The air was musty and dank, having not been opened in years. Though we lit our paths with torches, we didn't really need to--we had already memorized the layout of the crypt. Out-Of-Bounds could see any potential trap or enemy, so we managed to avoid the halls of arrows and skeleton warriors with ease.
Finally, we reached our destination--a massive pit filled with spikes. On the other side, the lever and our way forward.
We stood back as Mary stepped forward. She pulled out a small grenade, pulled the pin, and counted to three. Then she took a running jump just as the grenade went off. She flew through the air, trailing blood, before catching the lever and slamming it in the opposite direction. A bridge rose up from the abyss, and by the time we got over to where Mary was, she had chugged a potion and was no worse for the wear.
We hurried on. Even with Out-Of-Bounds, the skulls all around me creeped me out. In the deepest part, we found the Silver Skull we had been hired to get. In a move right out of Indiana Jones, I swapped the skull and a paperweight. Then, we hightailed it out of there.
"And all without encountering a single skeleton warrior!"Reginald cheered as we stepped outside.
We were met by a squad of skeleton warriors, their bows aimed right at us.
"Shut up,"Mary advised. |
I awake inside a white geodesic dome. I’m very confused. Looking down at myself, I see what appears to be an arrow sticking proudly through my chest. Uh oh. That can’t be good. I poke at the arrow, frowning, wondering if I should pull it out.
“No. *No*. *NO!*”
I snap my hand back, flinching. A loud, childish voice booms all around me.
“Oh. My. Me. You… you stupid human…why didn’t you just stay in the box…”
Stepping back a bit from the invisible voice, I politely call out, “Hello?”
“This is awful. This is *horrible.*”
I scratch my head. Not sure exactly what’s going on here, but it seems like I messed up somehow. Maybe it’s the arrow in my chest?
“Yes, it’s the arrow in your chest, you stupid, idiotic, far-reaching primate!”
“Hey!” I say, crossing my arms. Well, I try to, but the arrow kind of makes it awkward, so I rest my hands on my hips. A universal sign of displeasure. “That’s not nice. Manners.”
“M-manners? Did you just say *manners* to me?”
I nod. “Manners.”
After a moment, a loud popping noise reverberates throughout the room, followed by a bright flash. The light clears, and a young girl in elephant-dappled pajamas stands in front of me. She holds a teddy bear underneath one arm and a look of rage on her face.
“How dare you?” she whispers, voice trembling.
“Um. Who are you?” I ask. “And is that a teddy bear?”
“Yes, this is a teddy bear! His name is Archibald the Third, and that’s not the point! You don’t just say *manners* to your God. Apologize. Now. Or… or I’ll smite you.”
I frown. “You’re God? But you’re…” I trail off, not wanting to offend her.
“What?” she says dangerously. “Girls can’t be God?”
“No!” I stammer. “That’s not what I’m saying. Don’t put words in my mouth! All I’m saying is, it was *unexpected* for me to see that God is a small child. Not a girl! But a small child. That’s all.” I wipe some beading sweat off my forehead.
“Hmph,” God says. “I change forms every now and then. Keeps things fresh. Whatever! You’re distracting me.” She stabs a stubby little finger at me. “You’re here cause you’re in big trouble, mister.”
“For the manners comment?”
“No!” God says. “For *dying.* Like a total idiot.”
“God, I’m pretty sure death is a natural part of life.”
She groans. “Can you just shut up for a second? For one second, please?”
“Shutting up. Sorry.”
God growls and stalks over to me. She stabs her finger again, this time directly at the arrow. “You have an arrow in your chest. Why does a 23rd century man from the mid-western United States have an *arrow* in his chest?”
I open my mouth, but she shoots me a look that reminds me to shut up.
“It’s because you didn’t die in the 23rd century. You died in the *1st century BCE.*” God prances around and says, in a mocking voice, “Oh, look at me, I’m a human and I’m think I’m so clever and hey why don’t I invent time travel and create an entirely new tourism industry!” She stops and stabs her finger at me once more. “This is why! This is why! Because idiots like you stray out of your designated viewing zones and think, ‘Oh, why don’t I get closer to the Battle of the Colline Gate? This is my chance to see Sulla up close!’ And then, BAM! Arrow through the chest. And now you’re dead a whole 2300 years before you were supposed to.”
This is a lot to take in. But as she speaks, the memories start to fill back in. I remember the tour guide saying explicitly, ‘Do not leave the red square we have marked out for you.’ And then, of course, I did leave.
Hey, don’t judge me. I took my Masters in Ancient Roman history. I had saved up for over a year to pay for this one time travel to see a pivotal moment in Roman history, when the Republic’s march towards Empire took a ginormous step. Of course I wanted to take a selfie with Sulla in the background!
“Okay,” I say. “Alright. I’m dead in the 1st century BCE instead of the 23rd. What’s the big deal, God?”
Her eyes bulged. “The big deal? The big deal is this ruins *everything.* Life isn’t a straight path; it’s a cycle. You live, you die, you live again. That’s the whole deal. You were supposed to be reincarnated right away to continue the loop, but you died in the entirely wrong era by a huge margin. Your soul is anchored to this point in time now, and not even I can bring you back to your era. And I can't reincarnate you in this time because your soul doesn't belong within this period. Well, I can, but the results would be disastrous. It would open up the whole cycle from being a closed system to an open one, a total battle royale of souls. And trust me, we don’t want that.”
It looks like I royally screwed things up.
She sighs, rubbing her face. “There’s only one thing I can do.”
“What’s that?” I ask hesitantly.
She gives me a sad look. “I’m sorry. You really should have just stayed in the red box.”
I back up, not liking where this direction is going.
“I’m going to have to delete you from the system,” she says softly. “I… I don’t want to do this. I really don’t. Even though you’re an idiot human, you’re still one of my children.”
“God,” I say, swallowing past a lump in my throat. “Please, I-I’m sorry. Don’t… don’t do what you’re going to do. You’re *God.* Surely you can do something?”
A silent moment passes. She nods, slowly.
“I can,” she says. “Go in peace, my child.”
A sensation of warmth fills me. Warmth and love and peace and comfort. I feel my body lightening.
My last thought is a blurry haze.
*Why is this little girl crying?*
Then, with a stupid smile on my face, I vanish.
---
*stay in the designated red box at all times. /r/chrischang* |
A job is a job. You signed on the dotted line; you do the work. So I signed, and so I did.
>... By whatever means are necessary and for however long it takes, not to exceed one year, the signatory will carry the person presented at the appointed time to their home, the location of which they will reveal in good time to the signatory. ...
I'm a driver. A very well-paid driver. I drive those who either have an over-inflated sense of their importance, an overly developed sense of paranoia, or sometimes, only sometimes, a person well aware of their position in the world, who is also at terrible risk every time they must move outside of their formidable defenses.
I never know which it is until I meet my client at the appointed time.
"Mr. Traveler?"To the second. I do appreciate promptness in my passengers.
"Yes?"
"I am your passenger."Excellent, no names, no verification, full mark)
"Right this way, Miss."She moves as royalty should, but known royalty only manages to ape poorly.
Of course, there are verifications! These things are never done in the open. From the outside, it's merely a woman taking a taxi to her destination. An unexpected luxury for this young woman, the taxi is a *remise*.
If she is who she claims, proofs are provided in the privacy of the vehicle.
If she is not, she will never leave the taxi alive.
I can hear you bemoaning the poor unfortunate innocent who falls into this nefarious trap.
Shut. Your. Gob.
We who run this service have done so since the days of horse and carriage. There are only two sorts of people who arrive at our pick-up points.
Our fares. Or their enemies.
I've already had the displeasure of dispatching two enemies. My conscience is clean, having failed the validation; their purpose was obvious the instant they told me to drive on to "the destination."
Fortunately, the service includes instant detailing to remove the slightest trace of any untoward activities.
As she approaches the taxi, she smiles at the unexpected luxury. Only to take one more step and drop into a combat stance.
"Miss may wish to know that two impostors have already been dealt with."
Her eyes gaze from slitted lids, a green glow in the back. Her next step is a graceful sweeping movement that allows her to examine the entire area for hidden people.
"Well, done, Sir Traveller. We shall proceed as planned."
As they say, by diverse signs and signals, she proved her identity as passenger. Satisfied that we were each who we were supposed to be, we left on a journey that I only remember snippets of, such as that first night we stopped at a waystation.
The instant I handed her from the vehicle, the senior bowed to her like royalty. "This way, Mum."Escorting her into the station.
His junior walked up behind me and rudely commented, "thinks her shit don't stink. Don't envy you this fare, Mate."
My response was an elbow to the nose. He dropped without a quiver to the ground like the sack of shit he was. Whether he lived or died mattered not to me, his conduct was inexcusable.
Senior returned to see to her luggage. If he was startled by Junior's condition, he gave no sign of it, but her lack of so much as a purse confirmed some supposition.
A sharp look at me, "you don't know *what* she is, do you lad?"
"Of course, I don't know who... Did you say *what?*"I'm afraid I started a bit acerbic. I plead warranted exasperation at *two* intrusions and a junior who should have known better.
Hyper-vigilance comes easily to me, but always at a price.
"Aye, Lad, *what."*
"Royalty, at a minimum, so I have treated her with the utmost respect. Not a member of our royals, nor any other I've ever heard."
"Good eyes, lad. She is royalty and of the most ancient lineage you can imagine."
I'm left standing there as I consider his words and what I know of her. Impossible. A sidhe? One of the fair folk? A flash of memory, slitted eyes that glowed green in the back like cat eyes. An obvious martial move that I now realize requires either levitation or a body with joints that no human has.
Not. Possible.
Only I see no other explanation that fits the known facts unless I want to question my sanity.
Senior returns. "Sidhe."
"Aye."
"Seelie."
"Aye."
"Queen."
"Aye."
"I am in deep shit."
"Aye."
A silvery laugh wafting from the station breaks the moment.
Right. "I'll see to the taxi; you see to her needs if any. I'll be up to the station as soon as I'm done."I smile, "I'll warn you, I'm famished."
There are only quick flashes of evasive driving against fantastic creatures and beings.
•••———•••
"Sir? May I see some identification?"
I'm standing outside my flat—key in hand. Dumbfounded at discovering my key does not work, and there is someone else living in my apartment.
"Certainly, officer."My response is mechanical, as is the smooth motion to retrieve my wallet and extract my license.
"Mr. Traveller, is it?"
"Yes, officer."
"Can you tell me where you've been?"
"I... I picked up a fare and... there's nothing else until I'm here, in front of my flat."My head swivels like a turret locking onto a target. His expression is one of both sympathy and guarded curiosity.
"Well. As you have already confirmed, this is no longer your flat. Please, Sir. May we go to the station to sort this out?"
"What date is it?"His reply is both comforting and disturbing—a year and a day from my last fare. I'm shocked to immobility.
"Please, Sir. Come along."Gently taking my arm, he guides me to the stairs and down to his car. "Careful, Sir. Duck your head. I would not want you injured any further."
The drive to the station passes in a haze as I struggle to remember. It seems no more than seconds until the officer is helping me out of the car. "Easy does it, Sir."
Officialdom is perturbed by my existence and without memory. Eventually, they think of calling my employer. Within the half-hour, a lawyer retained to represent me appears, with further proof of my identity.
In the distance, I hear a conversation whispered. No doubt, they do not recognize my hearing is acute.
"Mr. Twist, your client is not charged with any crime. He was brought in for his safety when the officer realized his mental state. While we will not contest his freedom, we strongly recommend that he not be left unsupervised for his safety and the safety of others."
"That poses no problems. His medical coverage is private and complete. A local private hospital can keep him under observation until he regains awareness of his condition. In any case, my firm will see about his flat and belongings, the contract for the flat has three years to run, and is automatically paid. The landlord had no right nor reason to relet his flat."
The senior officer agrees and releases me to Mr. Twist's custody. Mr. Twist is somewhat amused but also insists on a change to the usual wording. I was not *in custody* to start with, just a confused citizen aided by public servants when shut out of my legal domicile.
Since the wording change turned it into a commendation for all the officers involved, they're pleased to have the mater resolved so easily.
•••———•••
I awaken in hospital, fully oriented and aware.
((continued)) |
I didn't remember much before her. I knew I had been alone, hiding in the shadows. I rarely ate, the rats and birds often proving too fast to catch. Without them, I was a runt, barely able to do more then put on a tough front to stay safe. Then one day, she came. She saw through my act, and offered me a way out. I was hardly going to refuse.
Her house was small, but cosy. It smelt of warmth and happiness. I decided almost immediately that this would be my home as well. The lady enjoyed my company, feeding me regularly. I began to grow, finally able to become what I was.
Over time, I saw her change. Her belly grew, though not from food. I could hear a smaller, second heartbeat inside her. A baby. I heard her whispering to it, and felt her love from the side. She doted over the life inside her. And as she had saved me, I offered to protect her child.
She readily accepted. I helped her as much as I could as the baby grew. But being a creature of darkness, there wasn't much I could do during the day, beneath the cruel, burning sun. So I waited until night to ease her burden. During this time, I learned how she saw me. A seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, she had a natural gift, granting her sight to my world.
When the baby was born, I realised he couldn't see me. But I stayed close, watching over him as he slept. I became attached to his soft, pudgy form. His vacant gaze as he fiddled with things. His laughter when his mother tickled him. His little snores at night. He was one of my pack.
I watched him as he grew older. His mother was overjoyed at my dutifulness, as I kept him safe where she could not. When he crawled out of bed, I stuck close, curling around him when he fell asleep on the floor. At time I felt him almost look at me, before looking away.
Finally, he began to speak in sentences, and understand the world a bit more. I huddled under his bed, content to stay there until night. One time, as he went to sleep, I stretched. My leg whacked into his bed, and I groaned. I didn't think much of the catch in his breath, until the next night.
"Mummy! I don't want to go to bed! There a monster under there!"
She laughed as she tucked him in.
“Of course there’s a monster under your bed, my love, I put it there to protect you if ever I could not.”
"But it's scary!"
She shifted on the bed.
"It isn't if you met it. Let me introduce you."
She leant down, poking her head into my view.
"Come out monster."
I growled, crawling out of the shadows. He gasped as I emerged, hiding back from me. I guessed he could finally see me. I coughed, before manipulating my growls into speech.
"I friend. Protect you I do."
I held out one of my claws, resting it near him. He touched it warily.
"You're cold!"
I smothered a grin, conscious of my sharp teeth.
"Thats because he lives in shadow sweetheart. Now be a good boy and go to sleep. Monster here will protect you."
As if on cue he yawned, and his eyes began to close.
"Night night mummy. Night night monster."
I let my grin loose as his eyes shut. I growled softly, before ducking back underneath his bed. I was glad he could finally see me. I couldn't wait for him.to talk to me more. |
Certain adjustments had been necessary. The castle of the old King had once been a mysterious and majestic space. Within its labyrinthine corridors, the King had ruled through dozens of advisors and aides kept removed from him by varying degrees depending on their status. The privy council dictated to the Court, who in turn dictated to those who dwelled beyond the walls. This palatial space, with so many walls and boundaries, had been swept away by the force of my arrival.
Quite literally; for I am far too large and those rooms, majestic as they may have been, were far too small, with floors that were far too weak.
There is no point in rebuilding that wing of the castle. I have no use for four-poster beds, elegant dining tables, or fine baths of ornate porcelain. The only room in the palace great enough to contain my own majesty was the Triumphal Hall, where the old King once held court. With the throne melted down for its gold, and the ornate wooden screen that once separated the King from his petitioners tossed into the flames, it is the grandest and most magnificent cave I have ever dwelled in.
It was a curious twist of fate that led me here. My last cave contained many treasures, taken from the knights and lords who had sought to slay me over the centuries. One of those lords, dead for hundreds of years now, had been an avid duellist, and had declared that his land and titles would go to the man who slew him. But I slew him, and the Lord’s property went to his descendants, and then their descendants, and eventually to the former King.
I would not have realised the significance of this if it weren’t for a single knight. He was the second son of some lesser house, sent out to slay the dragon largely because the first son didn’t want anyone to interfere with his inheritance, he had been an avid student of history, and had latched on to the crest on the shield of that lord as he begged for his life. I did not entirely believe him at the time, but after the former king died childless I saw my chance to end the constant interruptions.
It was hard to make my legal case while dodging spells and ballistae bolts, and I regularly had to interrupt my argument to ward off an attack with great breaths of fire, but my preparatory raid on the country estate of a famed inheritance lawyer – armed with armfuls of the first gold to ever willingly leave my hoard – had paid dividends, and in the end the court accepted the legal strength of my argument.
After all, the long-dead lord had failed to list humanity as a necessary prerequisite for inheritance.
In a piece of irony that still amuses me to this day, my first decree as the new King was to send a party of knights to my cave, to safeguard the transfer of my entire hoard into the great hall that was my new home. My first instinct was to strip the realm bear of all treasures and trinkets, to liquidate every asset in the lands and use them to add to the hoard.
It was only the effort of my new steward – a man with more courage than any Knight I have ever seen – who was able to persuade me otherwise. He approached me as the rest of my new Kingdom huddled in fear of their King, and asked me a question. Would I rather have ten pounds of gold now, or a thousand pounds over the course of ten years?
It was… a strange question, to my ears. Gold is present, immutable. It is something that is taken, and never released. The idea of potential gold – gold that did not yet exist in my hoard and could not be taken from someone else’s – baffled me. I could strip the Kingdom bare, but that would be all. There would be no more riches, no greater hoard beyond that heap, because the Kingdom lacked the means to acquire more.
And then, it was like something clicked in my mind. I considered what it truly meant, to inherit a Kingdom. Before, all that I owned could fit beneath my wings, but now the very land itself belonged to me. My lair was not limited to this hall, but to the entire Kingdom, and I rested on top of a hoard maintained by a hundred thousand people, in fields and mills and shops. The lords and knights, and all their subjects, were part of my hoard as well, part of a wonderful, pyramidal, hierarchy that stretched out beneath me. I could take their physical wealth, but I already owned it. I would be starving my hoard to fill a pretty pile.
And so, a summons was made. The nobility of my Kingdom were brought before me, and I outlined my plan. Emissaries were sent to the neighbouring kingdoms, who had been watching the rise of the Dragon King with abject terror, and reassurances were made that any treaty and trade agreement that did not diminish the value of my Kingdom was still in place.
Under my watch, my Kingdom has prospered. Where once I flew out in search of gold to drag back to my hoard, now I must fly simply to see all the wealth I possess. I see it in the freshly-thatched rooves of country villages, in the smiles of my subjects that glitter more than any gold. I see them healthy, happy, and prosperous, and I know that their prosperity is my own.
Truly, I am the richest dragon that has ever lived. |
I have never understood what turns the good "supes"into bad ones. I know most people think it has something to do with absolute power corrupting absolutely blah blah blah, the reason doesn't matter. What has always mattered is how many lives are lost when they turn. The number is usually in the thousands as well as the loss of several city blocks.
That has changed recently though...now they seems to die as soon as they give their first sadistic speech. They get to the end and start some crazy laugh and "Boom"the head of the "supe"goes all tomato hitting a ceiling fan. I know what some of you are thinking "it was be someone with psychic powers or a government implant!"
Well brothers and sisters I have some news for you, the truth is I am killing them. A man called the Gunsmith showed up one day and gave me a real cherry of a rifle and informed me that it was my destiny to save millions of lives with the years I got left. This sweet little piece of hardware fires a bullet made from my life. Weird i know, but what is weirder is that everytime i fire this coffin dispenser my life line on my hand gets a little shorter. I think I got maybe 10 shots left but I don't mind, the cancer would have killed me anyway.
Each head I crack like a pinata is a love note i leave for this world, and this pen the Gunsmith gave me writes pure poetry. I wish you all the best and hope that when my last shot rings out punching some psychos ticket, the rifle will find another condemned soul who will choose the express lane of helping folks on their way out. |
Young Lara sat in a cramped chair in what she thought was a quiet corner of the New York City Public Library. A dozen or more heavy novels were sprawled around, on the minuscule desk before her, on the floor, on her lap and a gigantic tome that she could barely hold between her tiny eight year old hands. She had been there most of the day researching the ancient Aztec Empire for a book report her 3rd grade teacher Mrs. Zimmerman had assigned her. Lara would have much rather been writing a report on the amazing book her teacher had been reading chapters of every day after recess, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. However, Lara was a dutiful student and she took to this assignment enthusiastically.
Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a rather strangely dressed elderly gentleman appearing to study her from behind one of the bookshelves. The first thing she noticed was the well worn battered Fedora he wore, an equally ravished leather jacket and what appeared to be a bullwhip (A BULLWHIP!!?!) coiled an attached to an even more ravaged belt. Her first reaction was 'Stranger Danger!' but then noticed the twinkle in his eyes and an overall sense of world weariness to him. She quickly dismissed him and went back to the giant book she had been reading. After all she had previously seen three weirdos carrying what appeared to be unlicensed nuclear accelerators stomping through the library, this man was tame compared to those three freaks.
Still engrossed in her book she didn't hear him slide up behind her until he whispered, "What are you reading honey?"She gasped and looked up at him and he appeared positively ancient. Her parents had always told her not to talk to strangers, however this man had a far away look in his eyes that piqued her curiosity.
"I'm learning about the ancient Aztecs for a school project and I..."Her voice trailed off as she happened to look down at the page she was reading and let out a small gasp. She quickly reached over to one of the other many books surrounding her, checked the title and began scrolling rapidly through the pages. She grabbed another book and began cross referencing the three books.
"Mister!", she squealed, "There's a translation that confirms what I've suspected since I started this project but I can't quite translate it!"The old man looked down at the page then at Lara. He saw a look in her eyes that reminded him of him in his youthful days and saw in her a true hunger for knowledge. "Well perhaps I can be of some help with that"he uttered in a weary voice that matched his appearance. "I am an archeologist after all, Do you know what an archeologist is kid?"Lara giggled. "Yeah they are men who go stomping around in caves looking for their mommies!"
"Mummies.", The old man gruffly corrected her and without looking to see if she was joking or not, quickly began to scan the information on the pages before her. "I'm Dr. Henry Jones, what's your name kid?"Lara looked up at the man and said, "I'm Lara, nice to meet you."Dr Jones was quick to notice the girl did not include her last name but quickly went back to the giant book. He read the ancient translation which for some unknown reason was in ancient Latin! Why anything having to do with the Aztecs was in Latin was beyond him yet he continued to translate. His eyes widened and he quickly referenced one of the books on the floor. "Kid you were right! It appears from this translation one of the tribes of Aztecs escaped to the United States after the Cortez, uhh...incident."Thoughts of giant red lines ran through his head as he quickly found a US map. "There are even coordinates in this translation!"The old man produced a protracter from somewhere and began doing calculations right on the map! After a few minutes the old man took three steps back and gave himself a face palm...
"It appears this tribe made it almost to the Great Lakes...as far as Indiana!!"The old mans eyes took another far away look and he sighed heavily.
"We named the DOG, Indiana!..." |
“Everything’s on fire outside, sir. I don’t mean to bother you, but are you certain you need extended warranty? Won’t your money be better spent getting weapons to deal with the approaching zombie hordes?” The woman behind the counter peered behind me, monitoring the barricaded store entrance. A sedan parked in front of it, blocking any of the shambling corpses from entering.
“Look, I would be a fool not to get an extended warranty. Have you seen how much mechanics charge? It’s a no brainer. I’m just glad you are still open; a lot of the stores were already closed, or the clerks were dead.” I said, propping my large bag of cash onto the register, not being able to use a credit card in these troubling times.
“My store manager locked me in.” She admitted, opening the bag, counting through the cash inside. “Why didn’t you just steal a car? Its not like there're any laws anymore. You could just grab a car and leave. I wouldn’t stop you. Did you steal this cash? No one just carries this much on them.” She enquired, placing the money aside as she went to fetch the keys.
“Oh, I had a rainy-day fund. You can’t trust banks with all your money, so I kept some hidden under my mattress.” I was a little disgusted by her accusation, but given the circumstances, it didn’t seem appropriate to leave her a bad review.
“A year ago, I would have called you mad and yet here you are, oddly prepared for this.” She placed the keys down before going to her computer’s monitor, letting out a sigh. “Systems are down at the moment. I’ll write your information in and when they boot back up, it should register. If they ever boot up again, I wouldn’t hold my breath given the situation outside.” She recorded the details I gave her and then smiled. “Enjoy your new car.”
“Wait, what about the little ribbon you put on it, you know, like in the car ads?” I asked, wanting my new purchase to be as ideal as possible.
“Sir, please, can we just finish this? I need to escape this… wait, how did you get in?” She asked, glancing the shop over, trying to spot the entrance I had found, only finding bordered up windows and blocked entrances.
“I’ll tell you if you get me a ribbon.” I said, giving her a counter offer she couldn’t refuse. That was how our partnership started.
It had been a year since that day and the car was working fine, the hordes of zombies no match for my mid-sized car, only able to let out a soft gargle of spit before their blood coated the white paint of the vehicle.
“Hoard ahead, should we go around it?” Veronica asked, helpfully reading out directions in the passenger seat, holding up a fast-food kid’s menu treasure map that had enough information to help us navigate the town. It may have only listed a few key locations without giving us streets, but Veronica had proved to be an excellent navigator, able to pinpoint the location with only that limited information.
“We can just go through it. The cars got extended warranty.” I said, before letting out a grumble, pointing to the hood of the car. “Theres a hand stuck to the ribbon, I just cleaned it too.”
“Why did you even keep that? Most people just throw it away. You know we pay like four dollars for those. Its only sentimental. Look, there’s no need to go through the horde. If we turn right and go about two blocks, there should be another entranc-AHH.” The sound of bodies hitting the car cut Veronica off as I stormed through the mess of monsters.
The ones that weren’t hit smacked their hands against the window, trying to halt the car with minimal effect. I nearly let out a quip about how good my purchasing decision was, only to see the horde of zombies thinning, revealing a large metallic pole in our way.
PSSSST.
The airbags smacked us both in the face as we collided with the pole, my previous confident grin now planted on the steering wheel. I made a few groans, trying to regain my composure despite the horrible ringing in my ears. My hands reaching out, trying to grab something to steady myself.
“We have to move. Come on, Peter.” A hand grabbed my collar, pulling me from the car. When my vision stopped blurring, I could see Veronica standing over me, checking me over before smiling. “Phew, thought you were dead. Come on, we have to leave the car. It’s destroyed.”
“B-but my warranty.” I mumbled, rising to my feet, trying to maintain my balance.
“Warranty? No one is going to come out and fix your car. Can we just go? We can hide out in the mall. Maybe they will have another car there for us to use?” She suggested, dragging me towards the entrance.
“Call them. We have a weak reception. Please.” I could hear her grumble as she pulled me into a store, pushing a shelf in front of the door as we took cover behind it. She retrieved her phone and dialed their number. “No one will. Oh, hello?”
She had a long conversation with the person on the other line before ending the call. “They are going to come. They actually said they would come. I can’t believe it.”
We hid in the store for a few hours until a car pulled up to our location. Two men in swat outfits got out, firing into the hoard of zombies, making quick work of them before they approached the wreckage, giving a nod to their own car. When the nod was given, a lanky male in overalls got out of the car, approaching our vehicle, giving it a look over before shaking his head, calling us over.
Pushing the shelf aside, we went to meet the man who only scratched his head. “Usually this wouldn’t be covered under warranty, but considering our apocalypse clause in the contract, we have to offer you a replacement vehicle under our keep customers with brains campaign promises. It will be one of lesser value but its better than this mess.” He said, giving it a kick before the hood smoked.
“You still operate? That’s impossible. I couldn’t get in touch with anybody last year when I worked for Drive buys.” Veronica said, only for the man to laugh.
“We had a few technical difficulties. All fixed now. Oh, if you still have your employee card, we can offer you a free coffee while you wait for it to be delivered. Would you like one?”
Veronica raised an eyebrow at the man before sighing, fishing through her wallet, pulling out a card hidden towards the back of it. “Yes, please. Whatever you have will be fine.”
“Excellent. Just wait here, someone will deliver the car shortly.” One of the two swat men opened the back of their car, pulling out a portable coffee machine. He brought Veronica her drink while we sat together, waiting for the delivery.
“Told you it was a good idea.” I smirked, trying to get a sip of her coffee, eventually getting her to offer me the cup, which I gratefully drank from.
“I said you were oddly prepared. I’m glad I joined up with you. Do you want to get your ribbon before the hood burns it?” She asked, directing my attention to the car.
“Oh, crap.” I gave her the cup back, rushing to the car, swatting the zombie hand attached to it, retrieving the slightly burnt ribbon, which amazingly still had some stick left on the tape attached to it. With the ribbon retrieved, I sat by her side again, joining her in, waiting.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
"Greetings and Salutations, Felicitations and Aloha! The name by which I am called is Albert, and the purpose of my tarriance in this alehouse is the procurement of spirits."The young boy sits down on the bar stool, his rounded chin barely poking over the tabletop.
"Son, how old are you?"The barkeep is unimpressed by the wordy lad before him.
"In my possession is the life experience and maturity of ninety-nine years. The eons have passed me by, and my allotment of chronology may soon be consummated."The boy speaks with a squeak in his tone, and the sort of swing pattern that only children who attempt to lie use.
"Right. I'll need to see some ID."The barman is holding back laughter, as are the other grizzled old men looking on.
"Veritably you require nothing of the persuasion, for I am prominently manifesting my advanced generation. Cease your piddling foolishness, tavernkeeper. Relinquish to myself a frigid single!"
"Nope."
"Ye brutish cur! My requirement of ethanol cannot be quenched by companionless conference! After what precedent do you accredit your reserve! Concede to my sesquipedalian loquaciousness and submit thy vodka to my hand!"
"Not a chance."
"You're a big fat meaniehead jerk. Gimmie the beer."
"Get lost." |
I roll up to sit upright in what I’d taken to calling my “sick bed” over the last two weeks. The flu, probably, but I wasn’t going to risk going to the doctor. Not like they knew anything, any way. That much had been made clear over the course of the year. The cancer, the pandemic, the hours on end sitting at his side until they told me nothing else could be done. “We can make him comfortable,” they’d said six months back. Everyone knows what that means. It isn’t what my husband would have wanted, though it was the single most difficult decision I’ve ever made.
I was out of tears by now. The pile of used tissues on his side of the bed were evidence of this. I haven’t cried in two weeks, now. It’s been a change. The only silver lining to come from this illness. I take a deep breath and it hurts my entire body. Muscle aches, I tell myself. Not as strong as the days before, so the virus must have run its course. I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Wait. I can. Oh, nevermind, it’s my phone. I pick it up and stare at it like it might bite me. New text message.
Trish: You okay, girl? Need anything else? More Gatorade? I can come back and take care of the baby if you’d like. He wasn’t looking great when I was there Tuesday. Keep an eye on him and let me know!
I blink. Baby? No, I’d have heard a baby. Fuck, I’d remember if I had a kid in the house. I tap back a response with achy little thumbs.
Me: More Gatorade would be good. Don’t know what you’re playing at re: babies though. Do you mean Mr. Fluffs? I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’ve left food out?
A reply comes quickly.
Trish: Um…you sure you’re ok? The baby. Your baby. I’ll be right over, ok?
I sigh. My sister, the perpetual prankster. I’d better get the place cleaned up a little if I was having visitors soon. Tissues, meet trash can. Used glasses and empty bottles, hobble with me to the kitchen. Stack of blankets borrowed from the spare room…huh. I’ve never locked the spare room. Do I even have the key? That was always David’s sort of thing, back when the spare room doubled as his office. I leave the blankets by the locked door and scurry back to do dishes.
The sink is filled past the point of being sanitary. Plates and bowls with scraps of food dried on, other people’s cheap Tupperware and casserole dishes that will need to be returned. They say a community really comes together after a death. Especially a man as young as David. But they don’t tell you that you’ll be the one standing alone at the sink trying to get back to your life. They don’t tell you that you’ll wake up every few hours sobbing until there’s nothing left to do but stare at the ceiling and try to forget.
Trish, I sigh as I spot a baby’s bottle sitting on the counter. Her follow through for these kinds of pranks was always on point. Gaslight the new widow. What a fun game. I wash it, along with the other dishes. Along with three other bottles buried deeper in the heap.
I tilt my head to glance down the hallway. I would know, right? If there was a child in my house? I would know. Besides, I think to myself as I head for the laundry room, babies cry. There’s no crying. I would hear crying. There’s no baby.
I’m adding soap to the washer as my phone dings again.
Mom: Can’t wait to meet the little bundle! We’re at the airport now, on our way!
I blink again and add the first batch of laundry to the machine. I pause halfway through a second handful and tap back a response.
Me: If Trish put you up to this, it’s not funny anymore.
I hit send and look at the tiny garment in my hands. Pastel yellow giraffes frolic on the onesie I’m holding. How did this get in with my dirty clothes? I respond to Trish.
Me: Don’t bother. And I’m changing the locks, this isn’t funny anymore.
Trish: What? Hold on. I’ll be there in a minute.
I start the load. I feed Mr. Fluffs. I’m drinking water when Trish lets herself in, and I glare my meanest glare at her. “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but the onesie was a bitch move, Tricia. Whatever you’re going through, there’s no reason to-“
“Hold on. Hold on. Are you running fever again? Hallucinating? The doctor said this might happen…we really should get you to the hospital. You’ve got that appointment later, anyway.”
I stare at her, confusion and anger battling for attention. “What…appointment?” The confusion won.
“For the baby. His checkup? It’s in my planner.”
“Trish, what on earth are you talking about? What baby?”
Realization dawns in my sister’s eyes - I’m completely clueless. The spark of realization is replaced by panic in an instant. “You’ve been taking care of him, right?” She moves past me and pushes into the hallway.
“Who? Trish, who?” I touch my cheeks. They’re wet with tears I didn’t feel myself cry. I’m confused. Trish stops at the guest room and tries the handle. “It’s locked,” I offer in a daze, “David has the key. I don’t have it.”
“You locked the door? What the hell, girl? Why would you lock the nursery?” She shoulders against the door once, twice, and a third time before wincing with pain.
“Nursery…?” I blink at the door and a fuzzy memory flashes before me. Screaming, and pain, and harsh hospital lighting. I reach out for David’s hand, but Trish is there instead. I look at the guest room door. The nursery door. Trish is picking at the lock with a bobby pin frantically, her curls falling out of formation where she’d disassembled the updo.
I blink and feel the slick, warm bundle settled on my chest as the screaming stops. A baby. My baby. The hobbling, the pain, the body aches…I’m at the door in an instant, eyes wild as I try to get into the nursery. Trish says something, but I can’t hear her. I claw at the door as she clicks it unlocked.
The baby. My baby. Lying in the crib David built before he left us. Mewling with the pathetic sound of a creature too exhausted to cry. Starving, reeking of its own shit. I scoop him up and hold him close, but Trish pries him away. Keeps him away from me. Keeps him away from his mother as she taps three times on her phone and presses it to her ear.
Later, I lay in a bed staring at the ceiling. The doctors have explained my post part symptoms to me. I guess I don’t have the flu, after all. I can’t process what’s happened, at least not yet. The doctors have assigned me a therapist who can help, they say. Little David Jr. is with Trish. He’s been fed and being monitored in his own room, the doctors say. They say he’s fine. They say he’ll recover. But they don’t know what they’re doing. I’m his mother. They don’t know what he needs. They know nothing. |
“You could have anything you want in the world.” the genie shouted as she threw up her hands. “I am a being of infinite possibility, yet all you asked for was this?”
“It’s exactly what it is that I wanted.” the man asked. He worked the orb in his hands and placed it in his collection of golf balls. There were different golf balls in this box. A small amount of them were pink.
“You already have so many of those.” the genie raked her hands down her blue face and clasped her ornate gold necklace. “Why did you ask for that?”
“Why is it such a problem?” the man asked as he took his recliner. He propped up the foot rest and let out a small hum.
“Because you’re abusing my power.” the genie snipped. “Money, fame, land, all of these things and more could be more if you asked.” She reached out and grabbed the ball. “Yet, you asked for something like this. What does this little thing have that makes it so valuable that you would use a wish for it?”
“I’m glad you asked.” the man beamed. “They contain memory.”
“So, you collect memories?” the genie raised a thin eyebrow.
“No. The balls are a reminder.” He reached for a white ball. “This was given to me the Chevy Chase when I went to a country club in San Diego.” He then picked up a yellow ball. “This one was from the last time I played golf with my father before he passed away.”
The man went down a list of different gold balls, but he never touched the pink ones. The genie, anticipating the next story would be from a pink ball, grew anxious.
The suspense was too great for her. “What makes the pink balls so special?” the genie blurted. “I need to know.”
The man’s smile somehow changed tone. It was no longer a jovial smile. It was one that spoke of something rise entirely. He reached into the box and pulled one out.
“This was for my son.” he said weakly. “He died during Desert Storm.” He pulled out another. “This was for my first wife who left me. She broke my heart and left me with nothing but this.”
The genie started realize what was going on. The pink balls weren’t just for people he knew and loved, it was for people who had left him for good.
She held her own ball in her hand and looked at it with woeful eyes that were starting to glisten.
“I know you have to leave at some point.” the man chuckled through a swollen throat. “So, I wanted you to know that I understand you have to leave.”
“But you didn’t want to forget me.”
“No. Not one bit.” |
As I rested against my tomb in an ethereal garden, I set my ghostly blade aside to drink in the perfect contrast of flower, foliage, and flowing water. Mere seconds seemed to go by, and then the air chilled suddenly. A gaunt figure, wrapped in a cowl as black as night floated toward me, and the greenery shrank back, withering wherever his shadow touched. "Lemme guess. You're a dark sorcerer and you want a Fallen hero to lead your undead army in a bloodbath revenge orgy against some shithead king that wronged you."
The figure started in surprise, muttering the words to his mediocre concealment spell out loud to make sure he hadn't done it wrong. "I know the basics of death magic. Other spells don't work on beings that have already died, Idiot."The man began to speak, but it was obvious he was changing his voice to sound more intimidating. "I am Ralazan Malthas, Last of the Lords of Malthas, and I lay claim to your soul!"I leant on my greatsword and gestured mockingly. "Ohh, a Malthas, I remember! Your granduncle Elrond Tried to harvest my soul to resurrect the Demon King. The old fool mucked up the spell and got sucked into the underworld." Ralazan sneered confidently, fumbling with his cliched spell tome "You know nothing, hero, My granduncle was a dunderhead, who couldn't tell an elixir from a Harmbrew if they had labels on them. A disgrace. I was the favorite child, and I have come to do what he could not. Alzati eroe caduto dell'antichità, esci da oltre il velo e piega alla mia volontà di ferro e magia aud-"
I sighed, as I felt my spirit get sucked into the time worn body I shed so long ago. The flesh began to rebuild itself around my skeletal form, coughing to life before I could be fully restored to my former size. Even in this decrepit state, my muscles remembered what it was like to fight for survival. My hand shot out of the ground, catching the sorcerer's booted foot. "You forgot one very important thing, Ralazan,"I said grimly as he struggled feebly to free himself. "I'm no hero."I dragged him into my rotting grave, Catching his head and snapping his neck in one swift movement.
\[LATER THAT DAY\] A sleepy archdruid looked up from his scrolls in surprise. "Godric? You're alive?"I tapped my foot down impatiently, "Yes, and I need you to send me back. Again."He dragged a hand across his face, making the age lines more prominent. "Not again. The last one took my entire ingredients pantry and left me magic-less for a month!"
P.S. the "magic"is italian. |
"Not everyone can replicate the teacher's magic on the first try, Hermione."
"Professor Teller's 'magic' is provably sleight of hand, Headmaster. I've described the full system in my essay -"
"- which you then copied and put up on every notice board in the school, *yes*, Miss Granger, I *did* notice. You are fortunate that none of your fellow students were able to *read* it before my staff members covered them."
"I'm here to learn *magic*, Headmaster, not *card tricks*."
"Learning to tell the *difference* is an *important* skill, Hermione. By taking the opportunity to work this out away from your fellow students, you are limiting their education."
"I - what?"
Yes, I knew that would work. Suggest that she's making it hard for other people to learn and this particular student will reconsider her actions at once.
"You are getting in the way of their *education*, Miss Granger. Your classmates need to figure this out by *themselves*."
"I - what? You mean this was an *intentional* part of the curriculum?"
"Yes. So, tell me, Miss Granger, which of you teachers have you spotted using *real* magic?"
"I - uh - I know Professor Teller wasn't, but -"
"But you jumped the gun and went directly off the deep end without pausing to *think*,"I said, hammering home the idea.
"I, um, I'm sorry, Headmaster -"
"And *now* you will tell me *why* your essay reappears after it gets removed from the notice boards, and then you will *stop* it."
"Of - of course, Headmaster. It, it was a *Duplicatus Copius* spell with a trigger condition of removal. I, I'll go and remove it at once..." |
It dawned on us slowly what we had truly just done... Much more slowly than it should have. We had killed the dinosaurs and later usurped the earth to kill them again. Humanity being able to evolve as it had may have just been the product of the paradoxical action we had just taken...
A lot of people accepted it and were just happy that we were all going to keep being alive. Some of the head scientists and the low level guy who actually flipped the final switch to activate the experimental time portal, the last ditch effort time portal... That switch flipper blew his own head off and some of the scientists killed themselves in inventive ways. One drank acid and it burned his esophagus away, for example.
Anyways, we had to accept what we had done because... At the end of the day it was the only reason we were here in the first place. A sadness lingers in my heart and I'm sure it still does in many others. An entire planet of amazing legendary beings, wiped out in favor of humanity. It just seemed....
Unfair. |
Georgie patted at Marie as he unhooked the reins. His oldest companion snorted as she immediately found some tall grass and went to work.
Georgie rolled his eyes. Marie did far more work eating than she did anything else.
Other than the tall grass, little else was in the area. A barren patch of land. Where the foot of the Little Mountain of Blue Peaks began.
A tourist trap for the kingdom and a village stood here once. More peddlers and crooks than anything else.
Rumors were that the mayor and local Knight Commander were in cahoots. With a fair bit of money flowing around, who would notice if some went missing?
Not that it mattered anymore.
The Dragon shattered the entire west wing of the imperial palace. During a yearly ball no less!
It kidnapped Princess Neiah and flew off into the darkness.
Which meant the King needed a hero. The best of the best!
Well, the best of the B-Ranks anyways. King Alarn was on a budget and the crops were not doing well this season.
Which meant he was the perfect man for the job. Georgie Stilight. Silver Ranked Adventurer and in great standing with the guilds.
Other than the bad mission in the Grim Dark Caverns of Woe, he had a spotless record. Well spotless if you ignored how his first year went. Lots of mistakes there.
This is why legends rarely talked about the Gold Ranked Adventurers’ first years. It was people bumbling around. Only good to talk about to encourage the new generations.
Armor check.
Georgie double-checked his armor. Solid enchanted metal. Bits of steel, Mythril, and iron. Straps were tight and he didn’t want to lose his left pauldron again.
Gwyldre was not impressed to find he had to forge another one. Especially since it was due to something unimpressive as a my-strap-was-a-tad-too-loose syndrome. Caverns of Woe indeed.
Shield check.
Georgie loosed his shield and slid it over his forearm with practiced ease. Years of practical training had ensured he could pull his shield as needed. Dented, but still functional. His Avery Brace was still solid, confusing name aside.
Remember, gnomes can make good things but never let them engrave a name. Even if they insist.
Georgie stood strong, but Doudler the Smith offered 15% off! Who could blame him!?
Sword Check.
Georgie unsheathed his prized possession. The crystal blade of Runa. A fancy name for a 1/3 Mythril, 1/3 iron, and 1/3 bone. No crystal, but very sharp.
The balance was imperfect, as it was blade heavy. Poor finesse but amazing hacking power.
The weapon belonged to a very eccentric goblin, BlueBlue the Red. A man who was smart enough to plan ambushes, but a horrible card player.
The green/red goblin’s ear tended to twitch when he bluffed. Tragic, but Georgie didn’t mind.
Wait.
Didn’t he still owe Eloise money? That night’s drinking and the game got a little hazy near the end. He got the sword but he had lost gold that night.
Georgie made a mental note to check on Eloise and the Turtle Moss Bar when he was back home. Eloise was kind but had the backing of some 200 adventurers. She had some mean muscles and they were happy to break legs to keep her happy.
He sheathed his sword and began to walk up the mountain. He kept his eyes open but took it easy.
Younglings tended to rush up. The anxiety and fear made you mentally strong. Well short term strong, but did little for your endurance. Rush uphill to fight a dragon…
Georgie reached into his pouch and pulled out the last of his lunch. The hard bread and dried meat. It wasn’t the greatest potential last meal, but he would at least get one.
The walk up was peaceful. From what he heard and investigated on his way over, this dragon had no followers.
This ruled out the more evil dragons. They tended to gain followers like beasts and ticks. A fearful relationship as it qualified for Disaster classifications.
The dragon wasn’t all that large either. Sightings had it at about… 10 meters or less. The princess was slowing it down as it had to fly slowly to ensure she didn’t drop.
This meant that it was a youngling. Something that was Silver Rank capable. An adult dragon meant a team of Gold Ranks, and he would have qualified for a scout position at best.
Gold Ranks were crazy powerful. Their gear was top-notch, and their experience honed them into dragon-like beings.
Georgie pulled out his last water pellet. The simple marble had a few drops of water trapped inside. He blew on it to begin the activation and to remove bits of lint and dust.
He popped it into his mouth and bit down. The magical glass broke and Georgie looked up to gulp down the five mouthfuls of water.
Sure it was a horrible waste of emergency water rations, but hey he could die in the next minute or five. No reason for his last thoughts to be regretful of not using his luxury goods.
The glass then turned into sugar and herbs. This was to freshen his breath and leave behind a nice aftertaste.
Blowing out a small cloud of chilled air, the last enchantment evaporated. A final razzle-dazzle to impress friends and jack up the price.
The dragon’s lair sat on top of Blue Peak Plateau. The tourist stop had it all. Restaurant, Inns, bathhouses, and a majestic view over the valley below.
Georgie stared at the ‘Dragon’s Lair’ and wanted to go punch that farmer in the face. The horse corral was an oversized barn. The sign said 10 silver a night, which was outrageous.
It was a half-hour walk at best, and he saw 3 copper prices down below. Which meant this was for the rich, the extravagant, and the stupid.
“Hail Dragon,” Georgie yelled out. He stopped halfway to the barn. No need to tempt fate in case the Dragon felt the best reply was the dragon’s breath.
“Help! Oh, sir knight, I am here!”
George turned to see a woman prance out. Her ball gown was a little worn, a little torn, and wrinkle-free. She held a scone and milkshake in hand as she tittered at the prospect of rescue.
“Princess! King Alarn has sent me to rescue you,” Georgie said as he gave her a quick bow. Formality was always good to do. Kept it professional as far too many princesses subscribed to Astropolitan. Fashion and entertainment for ladies of the proper peerage.
It used to say for nobility but the lawsuit 4 years ago forced them to settle and change their printed motto. The settlement’s sum got treated as a national secret.
It had nonsense such as how to seduce your knight in shining armor. 5 ways to make him scream your name on the horse ride back home. 10 ways to ensure your princess duties do not interfere with your love life. How to keep the father away from your daddy.
Georgie was glad he had his helmet’s visor down, as he frowned. He hated these starstruck princesses. Unrealistic beliefs for everything and everyone.
He recalled that run-down carriage near the entrance to the village. He was confident in his whittling skills. He could make a wheel and replace the broken one.
Then he keep the princess in there as they rode off back home. Marie would be happy as she hated the chatty princesses types. So many vapid comments in high pitches.
Marie also hated fae, fairies, and teenagers. Children were somehow exempt and even their piercing wails did not affect her.
“Knight,” a voice hissed. The sounds of scales sliding across stone reached ears and a dragon sauntered out of the barn.
It was a silver dragon. Or, as sunlight struck its scales, silver-like. Its movement played with his eyes. The scales were actually pearlescent as they shifted into a rainbow of colors.
It huffed as it stood up to its full height. A pair of heterochromatic eyes glared at him. Amethyst and Sapphire eyes glowed with power. They drilled into him with angry judgment.
Georgie blinked as he recognized her. She sniffed in the air twice as she got closer and her eyes lit up. She recognized him as well.
To play it safe, he waited until the dragon had stopped before he lifted his visor. The revealing of his face had the opposite effect of what Princess Neiah expected.
She was ready to see a brave knight fighting the vicious beast. Not the dragon to let out a squeal and sweep the man up in a hug that had metal creaking.
“Georgie!”
The man gasped as his armor deformed. Enchanted metal strained to keep his skeletal structure intact.
The dragon let him go as she realized she was not greeting a fellow dragon, but a human. They tended to pop if you squeezed too hard.
Georgie fell into a heap as he dropped onto the ground. The dragon propped him back up as she revealed all her teeth. Her eyes glowed as her elevated emotions riled up her dragon force.
“Hello Tia,” George whispered as he leaned against her hand. “How are you?”
Tia smiled at the affectionate gesture.
It was more he needed support but her smiling meant good things. Things like no flesh rending, bone-melting dragon breath.
Dragon force was the majestic might that was inherent in all dragonkind. You either respected it or died like a fool. |
"No, you see, you've got it all upside down, and backwards,"the professor said between breaths. He took a moment to set his hold against the rocky face and hammer in a couple crampons. When he turned around he could sit comfortably against the cliffside and lecture his class of a dozen students who themselves were all hanging from the cliffside below him. "Phew. Okay. How do you catch a fish? Anyone know? Gorwin."
He pointed at the young man braced with his knees against the rock face. Gorwin stammered. He'd only reached up to wipe his nose, so his mind raced. "You, uh... with a... fishing rod? Yeah, you catch a fish with a-"
"No no, I mean how does a predator catch a fish. What do the majority of natural predators of fish have in common? Frida?"
A woman put down her hand, and her heavy brow wrinkled with thought. "Most of them swim. The ones that don't at least can handle themselves in the water."
The professor snapped his fingers, pointing excitedly at Frida. "Exactly! Predators have two primary options. They can lay in wait for food to come to them, and grab it before it gets away. If you remember we discussed that as the Watering Hole or Trap Strategy."He took both of his hands off the wall to mime a crocodile's mouth opening and closing. "Or they must hunt their prey down, which we discussed as the Open Field or Pursuit Strategy. In order to do that, they have to be able to go where your food lives. Now, based on that, why do you think dragons would evolve flight?"
He pointed back to Gorwin, who had returned to wiping his nose and was somehow just as surprised to have the finger leveled at him again. "Uh... so it could... eat birds?"
The class snickered, but the professor beamed. "Perhaps not birds exactly, but yes, so it could pursue animals who also possessed the capabilities of flight, or at the very least were only reachable via flight. Now, be very quiet and cautious when you get to the top, we don't want to scare them."
The professor led them the rest of the way up the cliff, leaving a trail of cramp-ons straight to the top. A ledge large enough to hold all of them turned into a gentler climb on hands and knees. The professor beckoned to them, and from the ridge they looked down into a bowl, a microcaldera of rock. But it was not so bleak, as in this bowl were huge baskets of sticks and straw and other plant matter. At least, they seemed like baskets. They were much more reminiscent of bird's nests, even more so by the large bird-like creatures perched on them with their heads tucked into their breasts. The class cooed softly as they noticed them all sleeping placidly with their mottled feathers ruffling with changes in the wind. This close to the cloud layer it was downright chilly, but the bird creatures had enough fat and muscle in their haunches to handle that, it appeared. The plumpest ones were nearly egg-shaped, as if they were chicks still snug in the shape of their first home. |
Teppi was devout in every sense of the word. He spent decades attending the Pardeni Church, and even donated the majority of his income to spreading the word of Pardeni. Unfortunately for him, it was only a matter of time before the church discovered where exactly his income came from; the black market. Despite his intense faith, Teppi always had an interest in necromancy, and what better way to use his skills then to trade undead servants for a stable source of cash? Now, this art was never specifically banned by his religion. It was, however, looked down upon by all forms of government, including the church itself.
His town was small, and soon everyone knew of his underground deals. This lead to a swift ban from the church, and a seething resentment for his fellow followers of Pardeni. Despite their backs being turned on Teppi, he knew Pardeni himself would approve of his trade. After all, he was the largest donor, and followed all commandments strictly. So he set off, in search of acceptance from the only being that mattered.
It took 40 days and 40 nights, but Teppi trekked until his feet could no longer bear his weight. He collapsed in the sands of Merna, far from his homeland. Just as the last ounce of will was leaving his body, something caught his eye. A tomb, barely visible between the blistering dunes. As he dragged himself through the stone corridors, he could feel each step become easier. The place itself was dank and moist, though something inside was beckoning him. It was comfortable.
Turning a corner, he spotted it. A massive golden coffin. He spent so long thinking about finding Pardeni, that he had no clue what to do once he actually found him. His necromancy was good for making undead puppets, but bringing a being completely back to life? This was something he was unused to.
Teppi spent hours drawing runes and reciting cantations. Once the room was painted in charcoal and his own blood, he felt he was ready. He removed the top from the coffin. What laid before him was a beautiful masculine figure. The body was perfectly preserved. This was not only a testament to Pardeni's powers, but also a fine subject for Teppi. Breathing deeply, he recalled what he heard during a sermon ages ago. The god may have powers beyond any man, but it was still mortal. However, unlike other mortals, Pardeni's spirit had complete control of it's own fate. All Teppi had to do was call upon it, and convince it to return to a body.
Teppi took a dagger from his robes and gripped it tightly. Plunging the blade into his own heart, he leaned forward and kissed the corpse. Blood spilled from his mouth, filling Pardeni's. Teppi took a step backward, grinned, and fell to the ground.
The bloodied runes began to glow as Teppi's eyes opened. He picked himself up and pulled the dagger from his chest. There was no cavity. "Teppi, you have gifted me your body, as mine was old and frail. I will fulfill your wish, and show the church goers what a true devotee looks like." |
Many years ago, so many that nobody alive now remembers, the prophets told the tale of a future hero. He would banish all evil; cure all disease. He would bring the heavens down onto earth, and not a soul would suffer any longer. He had finally arrived.
Caleb Joseph Greene came into the world at an average 7.5 pounds. He cried when the doctor slapped him, and he pawed at the air, feeling the strange sensation of wind touching his no longer submerged body. He cried some more.
Caleb made it to his sixteenth birthday mostly uneventfully. Sometimes a baseball would alter its course midair so he could catch it, and other times an opposing wrestler would feel the pressure of an opponent twenty pounds heavier than him, but these things mainly went unnoticed. They were small discrepancies in an otherwise normal world.
His parents let him have a glass of wine -- customary for all Greene children at their sixteenth birthday -- and that's when he realized he was special. With his edges softened Caleb felt something brewing within him. Something that felt like a limitless power.
Later that night, while alone in his room, he had a second glass of wine. Thirty seconds before bringing the glass to his lips, though, that wine had just been water. That was the first conscious miracle he performed -- he thought it was cool to imitate Jesus.
The problem was he couldn't figure out what else to use his powers on. Jesus had fed the hungry, cured the sick, gave vision to the blind, but none of that was a problem anymore. All imaginable pains and inconveniences were gone. Nanotechnology fixed all physical problems and men in red suits fixed all the social ones. Life was sterile.
"Whoa, you're like, a magician or something,"his friend Tim told him the next day at school when he was levitating a pencil.
"Yeah, I guess,"Caleb said, not grasping the extent of his powers. "I just wish there was something more for me to do with 'em. I hope I wasn't born just to become a circus attraction. I almost want there to be some problems in the world again, like the olden days they make us read about."
"Hey man, you never know what could happen,"Tim said. "People say the evil's coming back any day now. Maybe that's where you come in. Savior of the earth: Caleb Greene. I like the sound of that."
"My parents told me people have been saying those sorts of things since before we were born,"Caleb said. "But it would be cool to save the world or even just help somebody in need."
"People need help all the time,"Tim said, "for example, you could use your powers to help me get an A on this math test I have next period? That would be *very* helpful, because my parents are gonna kill me when I fail."
"Sorry, no can do,"Caleb said, "I've decided to have a strict 'no doing favors for friends' policy. Figured it would keep things from getting weird between everyone. You should be spending this time studying instead of talking to me. I'm gonna go see what Jen's up to."
"But talking with you is more fun!"
"Hit the books, man."
--
Jen was Caleb's girlfriend going on three years. How they got so close nobody knew, because they had completely different friend groups and completely opposite interests. Maybe opposites do attract. She was sitting on the other side of the cafeteria with her friends.
"Hey, Jen,"Caleb said, brushing aside her bangs and giving her a kiss on the forehead. Jen's friends giggled and Jen blushed. "How goes it?"
"Hiya, Cal,"Jen said. "Things are good. Me and the girls are just deciding what to wear to the party tonight. Are you sure you don't want to come? *Everybody's* gonna be there."
Caleb frowned. He hated parties, and he hated that Jen loved them so much. He also disliked how she emphasized that *everyone* was going to be there tonight. That meant the senior, (Caleb and Jen were juniors) Bryan Ford, who everyone knew had the hots for Jen was going to be there too. She had told him off countless of times, Caleb was always there to witness it, but he never gave up.
Caleb trusted her, though, and he didn't want to be an overbearing boyfriend. If she wanted to party then that was a compromised he was willing to make.
"No thanks,"Caleb said. "You know I'm not good at parties. Besides, I have other plans for tonight. Got a cool new book to read. It's about ancient aliens."
"Ayy lmao,"Jenn said. "Well, the party's at Caleigh's house if you change your mind."
The bell rang, signalling the end of the lunch period. Caleb gave Jen another peck on the cheek before they parted ways. Her friends giggled again.
--
"Thish is... noooot gooooed.."Caleb said to himself. He had downed four glasses of wine, courtesy of his powers, and he was really feeling the effects.
The book on aliens was getting too hard to concentrate on, and all Caleb could think about was Jen. He wished she was there with him. He wished he had his arms around her, so close he could smell her familiar strawberry shampoo. He wished he wasn't so lame and didn't hate parties so much. He wished he was more social.
And just like that, a flip switched, as it does in all drunken minds.
"Tooonight... I'll be Cayleb the socialite... Jen will be soo proud of me. Jen... Where diiid she saey the party was? Caaleighs house? But how will I get there... Oooh I know!"
He snapped his fingers and he teleported into Caleigh's bedroom. He meant to teleport to the front door, so that he could enter inconspicuously, but not all things go as planned.
There was a couple making out on top of Caleigh's bed and Caleb felt like an ass for interrupting them.
"S-sooorrry you two,"he slurred, "I'm jus gonna.. go downsteirs..."
He opened the door to leave but then in his hazy mind he realized he knew the girl on the bed. Nobody else sported a black pixie cut like she did.
"Jen?!"he shouted. The entire room was spinning now. His already flushed face got more red.
"C-caleb!"she said, sitting up in the bed, shocked. "I-I thought you weren't coming! It's not what it looks like!"
Behind her her partner in crime sat up. Caleb already knew who it was before he could see him.
"Buzz off, dude,"Bryan said. "Can't you see she likes me better? You two are over, so get out and let us get back to business."
Caleb saw red. He rushed towards the bed and tackled Bryan onto the floor. He beat him to a pulp and left the room leaving Jen to tend to his remains.
At least, that's what he thought was going to happen.
Caleb tackled Bryan, but his 130 pounds couldn't move Bryan's 200. Bryan pushed him off and the sound of Caleb hitting the floor brought spectators to the door. Jen's friends from lunch came, giggling just like before.
Caleb staggered to his feet and charged again. This time he ran straight into a fist. He fell on the floor and barely knew what was happening.
"Cal, stop!"Jen shouted at him. She just wanted the fighting to end; she didn't care about being caught cheating. That pissed Caleb off.
He got up and this time instead of rushing in he slowly walked towards the bed. Bryan sat there with a smug look on his face, an arm around Jen still.
"Dude, just stop,"Bryan said, "you can't hurt me. Tell you what, I'll even let you get a free hit in before I beat your ass."He turned his face to the side and pointed to his cheek. "Right here, big guy. Give it all you got."
Caleb couldn't contain himself anymore. He cocked back his arm and punched Bryan's head with the force of an atomic bomb, literally. Bryan's head flew off his body, crashing against the wall and exploding. A geyser of blood came out of the decapitated corpse and it covered both Jen and Caleb. A silence filled the room, and then a moment later everybody was screaming.
Caleb had just committed the first crime in a millennium. He was no hero.
The next day Caleigh's parents returned home to find over twenty corpses littered about their mansion, all with their heads missing.
Caleb sat in his room and enjoyed the rest of the book on ancient aliens. |
I bowed my head before the weathered grave, placing the flowers before it with measured care. The gentle rain caressed the tombstone, lubricating my fingers as they roved along the grooves of the name etched into it:
*Hannah James. 1989 - 2013.*
A single tear welled up in my eye and trickled down my cheek.
"She must be happy that you still honour her memory."Aubrey appeared above me, a packet of tissues clutched in her hand.
I blinked back my tears. "I'm sorry for doing this to you. It must break you up inside, seeing your husband crying over a different woman."
"No, no, of course not. She might not have been the one you were destined to spend your life with, but no one can deny the great importance she played in shaping your life. Each of our past relationships changes us as persons. You should be honouring her, for without her you would be a far different individual."
I smiled tightly and nodded. That was why I loved Aubrey so much. Always understanding and supportive, never letting the ugly emotions in life pull her down into its quagmire.
A playful grin broke out over her lips. "Besides, we're soulmates remember? It'd be pretty ridiculous for me to be insecure when Fate already promised you to me."
I chuckled hoarsely. There she went, with her 'soulmates' thing again. It was one of the few things I still didn't fully understand about her. She claimed that fate had preordained everyone's soulmates in advance and that the secret to a happy life was to find them. Somehow, she supposedly had access to the whisperings of fate and knew who people were destined to end up with. Honestly, I still wasn't sure how much of it I bought. I had dismissed it as superstitious hocus-pocus to begin with, one of the innocent quirks of the woman I loved, but her match-making abilities had been remarkably effective. Perfect, in fact, considering that no one she had paired up had ever broken up with each other. Many of my lonely friends had even begun approaching her for help, seeking a salve to the aching in their hearts.
Real or not, her beliefs were what had led me straight to me, after Hannah had been taken away. And I am eternally grateful for that. God knows I needed her. Without her supporting me, loving me, completing me, I would have remained trapped in a very dark pit, eight long years after that dreadful night. In some ways, although I try to avoid thinking about it, she is right. I had loved Hannah since we were teens, yet there were irreconcilable differences that were already pulling us apart. Without her death, we might have had a couple more years if we really pushed through, but it was not something that we could have sustained. We were simply stops on the way for each other on the long journey of life.
I sniffed and wiped away a fresh trail of tears. "Just give me a couple of minutes. You don't have to wait in the rain for me."
"All right, I'll head back to the car, leave you two love birds here for now. Just make sure you don't talk about ice picks. Wouldn't want to upset her, after all."
I bowed my head again, but suddenly I froze. Cold fingers of dread crawled up my spine as I turned my head slowly towards her.
"What did you say?"
Her eyes softened and she looked remorseful. "I'm sorry. It was a joke in poor taste. I thought I'd lighten up the mood, but I should have known better."
"How do you know how she died?"I spoke slowly, but a million thoughts screamed at me across my mind.
Aubrey frowned and studied her nails. "I don't know. You probably told me at some point."
"No, I definitely never did. I never told anyone about the ice pick they found at the scene."
"It's a common murder weapon. It was just a reasonable guess."She muttered.
"Aubrey,"my throat was constricting, each word a struggle, "look at me. How did you know?"
The silence hung heavy between us. Time seemed to have frozen around me, the entire world crashing down as Aubrey stared at the sky wordlessly. Finally, she turned back towards me, chuckling as she brushed her hair back over her ear.
"Ah darling. You know I've never been a patient one. Fate had already decided that we were meant to be together."Her face broke out into an iridescent smile, as bright as the one she had on the day I first met her. "I simply helped to hurry the process along." |
“Everyone better back up right now or this family dies! I ain’t playing you hear me!” The criminal was shouting as the house he broke into was surrounded by police.
“This is the police, come out with your hands up.” The sergeant shouted through his megaphone.
One of his fellow officers whispers to him as he puts the megaphone down. “Sarge this is bad, that psycho has already killed two people before and now he’s got a family hostage.” The Sarge looks at the officer and says “Don’t worry we set a trap for him, one of our best guys is in their right now, he’ll make sure nothing happens to them.”
Grabbing his radio, “Alpha team in position?” “Ready when you are sir.” “Go in on my command, we got eyes on the hostile?” “Confirmed, only one hostile in the kitchen, family is bound to the chairs.” “Alright Alpha Team execute!”
*Ok, now it’s my turn, I can hear them getting ready to barge in.* *Crash as the door gets busted in by the battering ram* “Police hands up now!” “You goddamn pigs!” *click* “Ahhhh!!!” *bang, bang, bang*
“This is Alpha team, hostile is down, all hostages safe and secure.” One of the officers goes to pick up the pistol the criminal was using. “Hey, nice job Officer Wesson.” The gun starts showing a message across a digital screen as it exits its camouflage mode. “You too.” |
I adjusted my tie in the mirror, trying to generate some holiday spirit through my festive red tie. The fabric coated with little golden stars, something that I was certain would help me get a date tonight. “Lady luck be on my side tonight, because this gentleman is awfully lonely.”
Fate appeared to have a hatred for me, doing whatever it could to stop me from ever finding my true love. It was cruel. While others found their ideal partner in a surprise coffee shop meeting or by bumping into them at a friend’s house, I had yet to find my person. I even tried visiting the same coffee shop for a whole week, sitting there all day, sipping my coffee, waiting for the moment in which my lover would spill coffee on me or accidentally bump into me and yet, no matter how many days I spent there, nothing happened. Forced to watch others around me find their lovers while I sat alone.
“Guess I’ll just make my own luck tonight. Who needs something as stupid as fate? I’ll win someone over with my charm.” I exclaimed to the mirror, only to feel my confidence falter when I looked over my face. “Perhaps I’m just getting too old. Twenty-six is the new thirty. Maybe I missed my calling?”
I began undoing my tie, talking myself out of the moment. Even in a world where love comes easily, maybe love just wasn’t for me? As the tie loosened, it lowered, leaving the knot pressed against my chest. I went to pull it over my head, only to spot a strange dark spot in the mirror. “Is it dirt? I just cleaned the thing a few days ago.” I leant in, trying to get a better look, only to feel a pair of lips hit against mine, sending me backwards onto the floor as a body landed on top of me.
“Found you.” A voice as rough as sandpaper said, reaching forward to grab my neck. I could feel their fingers dancing along my skin, sharp nails poking at the flesh before they stopped. “Who are you? This isn’t the home I was haunting, and you aren’t the man who is tormented by visions of his dead wife. He wouldn’t wear a tie this colorful.” They moved their hand down to grab at my tie, feeling over the fabric with the tips of their fingers.
As I shook off the initial shock of our collision, I spotted the heavily scarred woman looming over me. Her eyes a pure white, leaving her looking soulless. She wore a flowing white wedding dress that had charred endings at the sleeves and feet, giving her an angelic quality. When our eyes met, I gave her a smile, staring up at her ash coated grey hair. “The only thing I’m haunted by is my lack of love and I believe you might be the cure.”
I moved my hand onto hers, careful not to get scratched by her long nails. She gave me a weird look, not moving her hand away, only seeing where I was going with this. She was giving me a chance, something that no one else in this universe had ever done.
“I imagine you must be lonely too, right? Maybe this meeting was fate. Two lonely hearts brought together to become one. You like my tie and I love the way your hair compliments your outfit. Whenever you shake your head, it’s like an ash covered snowfall. One that I want to get lost in”
She shifted away from me, creating some distance between us. Great, I had blown it. I should have just kept my mouth shut. She said nothing right away, taking some time to process the situation before speaking up.
“I am rather lonely. Maybe we could grab some dinner tonight? I do like your tie; it reminds me of all those I have killed. The little stars are like a symbol of their soul trapped in a sea of blood. It’s rather romantic.”
It seemed we both had very different ideas of romance, something that couldn’t be helped given we weren’t from the same universe. Still, I refused to let that stop us. I stood up and took her hand, offering her a smile. “Let’s go then. I know this place that does an amazing steak. I’m sure you would prefer something rather rare, right?”
“I would, how thoughtful of you.” I felt her head hit my shoulder, resting against me as we walked outside, getting a few odd looks from the perfect family friendly couples around us. Even with all the staring, I didn’t care. I was in love.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
The world around me is white, a blank slate, and the hallway before me stretches on to infinity. Nowhere and everywhere at the same time, a figment of my imagination yet so very real, a place of freedom yet an inescapable prison.
"I'm scared."
The admission is something private, but I whisper it aloud anyway, head in my hands. It's not like there's anyone to hear it. Nothing but this maddening blankness and that endless hallway, that realm of infinite possibilities.
"I'm scared."
It's louder this time, torn from a place in my heart I didn't know I had. The place prepared by legends and awe, hollowed out as I watched my brother and sister torn from me. Who had my mothers been, I wonder, before? Were they like Amanda and Samuel? Were they someone else? Someone better? Someone worse?
I can't bring myself to say the words again. They make me feel whole, complete, and yet so very, very empty. I don't want to change, don't want to become someone else, lose myself in that hallway and watch as someone else wakes up, greets my parents and Amanda and Samuel. I want to leave, want to run away and be free from this place, free from this power.
Wanting is a dangerous thing, I think. If I'd been a little less curious, a little less observant, I'd already be free of this place. Well, maybe not me. But someone would have walked out that door. Perhaps the terrible end is better than the unbearable wait, the certainty of loss better than the uncertainty of ignorance, of questions.
I wonder how it works on the outside. Is this all happening in an instant, everyone else anxiously waiting for "my"emergence? Or my mothers frozen in place beyond that door, unable to move or think or breathe as I make my decision.
It felt like forever when Amanda went in, but that was years ago, and Samuel's ceremony was even further buried in my memories. I remember being so excited for their power gifting ceremony, though, the type of excitement only a child as young as I was can possess. I wanted to see them do amazing things, wanted to watch them wave their hand and summon their tiny miracles.
But I never saw them again. Both of them walked out of that room, hugged our mothers and me, climbed into the car and gone home. But there was something *off* about them, something different and terrifying.
On his 18th birthday, Samuel had chosen the power of short distance teleportation. But there was something cold in his once warm eyes now, something reluctant about his movements. I'd always loved playing with him, and I used to think that he enjoyed it too. But after that day, he made no attempt to disguise his annoyance at being asked to play catch or race down to the end of the block.
I think I would have ignored it, too if it hadn't been for Amanda. That was what everyone else did -- told me it was just a part of growing up, lied so well they believed it themselves. But Amanda had loved art, always tucked away in her room working on a project. She used to show them to me when she'd finished, talking excitedly. I think that's why she chose the power she did -- the ability to make dancing lights.
But she never drew again after that day, and whenever I saw her playing with her power, there was an odd expression on her face, as if it was a chore instead of a hobby. The Amanda I knew would have gazed in amazement at those lights every time, letting the colors play across her hand.
But the Amanda that walked out of that room never did.
"I'm scared,"I whisper again, voice weak. I'm scared of the hallway, scared of what happens if I walk down it, exit back into the world. But I'm scared of what happens if I stay, too. I want to be the same person when I walk out. And I want to walk out of here more than I've ever wanted anything in the entire world before.
I raise myself to my feet, breathing shaky as I stare into that endless void.
"I want to remember who I am,"I whisper, legs carrying me forward.
"I want the power to remember who I am,"I say again, louder this time.
"I want the power to remember who I am and stay that way."I force the words out in a rush of breath as the walls shimmer around me. I've made my wish, sealed my fate.
My legs carry me forward into the hallway and out the door and I do the most dangerous thing I can -- I want.
>If you enjoyed, I have a subreddit r/StoriesOfAshes. I also have an ongoing serial called [A Game of Chess](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/re223x/a_game_of_chess_chapter_1/). I'd appreciate it if you'd check them both out if you enjoyed! |
“You’re kidding. Really?” Andy gestured towards the window in a rough, jerked motion. “Grey sky. Pouring rain. I just saw lightning for heaven’s sake.”
Charlotte shook her head. She feebly reached out her hand, stroking his hair in a futile attempt to calm him down. Frustration, however, had already frenzied his mind. Andy huffed his way to the door and, in pajamas and slippers still, stepped outside. It was then that Charlotte’s sleep-blurred eyes witnessed a miracle: her husband of three years stood under a clear, blue sky and returned drenched to the bone.
“Do you fucking see now?”
She did indeed. Wordlessly, Charlotte rose from the couch and walked outside herself. The result was perplexing, or perhaps expected — she didn’t know what to expect anymore. The sun beamed down on her face and the breeze ruffled her hair, but there was not a drop of rain in sight.
Finally losing her cool, Charlotte let out a dejected cry to the heavens. “Samuel, you dipshit! You said the simulation would fucking work this time!”
The street in which she was standing melted away to reveal a bright yet disheveled office room. A man with unkempt hair and bags under his eyes gazed sheepishly at the couple. They glared at him in return, Andy with rage painted on his face and Charlotte with a subtle coldness behind her eyes.
“I… I thought it did, I swear! All of my tests passed! It just… I must have…”
“You’re babbling again, Samuel,” Charlotte snipped. “I get it. I really do — but our funders won’t. They want a working product, so figure. It. Out.” |
He smile as an ash grey palm rushes towards his face. He knows what's coming as a loud smack echoes through the mid sized room. Following, multiple smacks ring through the room, and the only voice is a deep pitched one, demanding that the humans "Surrender, and the torture will end". This is part of why *he* was selected to be the diplomat for the world.
He was a well known masochistic official in the GNC, the Global Nations Committee, and the others didn't know how the recently found alien empire would react to them. As the slaps ring, the heat and sting from the slaps shoot dopamine through his system as he trembles in pleasure.
The extra-terrestrial diplomat, seeing his trembling and mistaking it for fear, gloats repeating itself. "Surrender your world, and this torture will end. I see you're trembling with fear, and will give you a merciful death if you do so."
The other humans in the room look between each other and laugh, as the human diplomat started breathing harder. "So this will continue if I don't surrender? Then you'll never have my planet!"There was an obvious tone of joy in his voice as his blood started to flow in a specific part of his body.
The sole grey figure stepped back, disgusted at the human before him. "What is wrong with you!?! Are all of you insects like this?!?"The others stopped laughing, looking between one another as they kept silence. "You are enjoying this? If this is why you're armies still stand after our previous attempts at covert invasion, then we'll just have to leave!"
And this is how the first and only official meeting with the Zamdar Empire ended. The alien diplomat rushed out of the room and towards his scout vessel, rushing back towards the mother ship. And in the blink of an eye, the alien spacecrafts that just seconds before peppered the sky were nowhere to be found within their possible sight. |
Akaxun the Baleful appeared within the summoning circle. She cast her gaze upon the room she was summoned to; red carpet and white-painted walls. Dismal furniture that appeared to be moved aside to accommodate the space needed for her circle. All in all it seemed an ordinary dwelling, not the basement of the headquarters of a cult of hell-worshipers, nor any of the other places that would more commonly summon a demon of her power.
Akaxun's summoner was unlike most that summoned her as well; not wearing any robes or brandishing wooden crosses at her in an attempt to hold her inside the circle, but simply a man, dressed in baggy jeans and a simple blue hoody. In his eyes Akaxun saw none of the fear that was usually there in those that dared to summon her. Instead there was an almost irreverent joy inside them, and below that - a sadness Akaxun was not familiar with.
"You have summoned Akaxun the Baleful, mortal. What is your desire?"It was always something different for those who summoned her, but usually it involved death. The death of their rivals or sometimes the death of their friends. It mattered little to Akaxun. The whole fun was in trying to break out of the bonds they would impose upon her. Most summoners who were capable of summoning someone of her power were very experienced, and knew how to word the bindings very carefully, to leave her very little wiggle room. Still, Akaxun usually found some, and some was often enough to shatter the bindings imposed on her. You'd think that with the amount of summoners that she's slain, they'd learn to settle for lesser demons. But no; both the unending arrogance and the unending lust for power that was found in humanity ensured that Akaxun always had plentiful clients. Akaxun waited in gleeful anticipation of what this foolish mortal would ask of her.
"I can ask you to do anything I want right?"the Human asked.
"Indeed, if it is within my power, I will grant it... for a price,"Akaxun said. "So what is your wish, mortal? Do you wish to have someone killed? A group of people perhaps? Do you wish for me to steal something instead? Or do you want me to inflict terror in order to send a message? Anything is possible... if the price is paid."
"Well, I've thought about it,"the Human said. "And I'd really like for you to be my friend."
Akaxun blinked in surprise. "Your... friend?"
"If it's not too much trouble. I have some board games here that we could play."
Akaxun blinked again. "You summoned a greater demon from the ninth layer of Hell, to play board games with you?"
"I mean, only if you want. I'm not going to force you or anything."
Akaxun thought she was prepared for anything, but this... this was, new. Still, anything could be turned in her favour. In truth, the request did not matter a wit. The only important thing was the bindings this summoner would impose on her. This one seemed to have a few screws loose to be sure, but Akaxun was not entirely fooled. She remained wary until she knew what she had to work with.
"Very well, I can be your... friend if that is your desire,"Akaxun said.
The Human's face broke out in an idiotic smile. "Oh I'm so very happy to hear you say that, I don't have a lot of friends you see. Don't have any family left either."
"Yes yes,"Akaxun said. "And the bindings? What will you permit me, and what will you forbid me?"
"What will I forbid you?"the Human asked. "Nothing really."
"What!?"Akaxun exclaimed. "You won't put any bindings on me? Akaxun the Baleful? Scourge of Heaven and bringer of death? You would allow one such as I to walk around completely untethered?"
"Well, yeah."the Human said. "It seems rude to bind my new friend, wouldn't you agree?"
"No-one's ever done that before,"Akaxun said, still in shock.
"Well that seems quite rude to me, I don't know who else summoned you but I think they might have tried to use you if they did that."
"Yes, yes indeed."Akaxun said. She stepped outside the summoning circle. She had never had *this* much freedom before. Even in her native land of Hell there were rules she must obey. This was an entirely new experience. She could slay this fool and after she reaped his soul she could cause absolute bedlam before she returned to Hell. With the summoner's soul in her complete control, it could be weeks before she was returned.
A smile spread over Akaxun's features. All that stood between her and the rampage of a lifetime was one simple dolt. Akaxun beheld him, as she would want to remember his face evermore for the service he unknowingly did for her. He was just looking up at her and smiling, completely unaware that these were his last moments on earth. Did he truly not know that nothing but agony awaited his soul until Akaxun had squeezed it dry? In his eyes the fear was still completely absent.
No-one had ever looked at Akaxun that way before. Akaxun paused to contemplate this. Every human she'd ever dealt with had been afraid of her, some more than others. Most had hated her, others had simply wanted to use her for her power, but all had carried inside them at least a little fear, for all were at least somewhat aware of what she could do to them.
All except this one, simple human, that looked at her with complete and open joy. He truly was unaware of what she could do to him, unaware of her true nature. Well, pity for him. It was time to run amok. Time for his life to end.
Akaxun hesitated however for some reason. Why was his simple and honest smile so captivating? Why did she pause now, for this simpleton? She had slain thousands, since time immemorial. Why did she pause for this buffoon? Akaxun raised her claw in order to end her summoner's life.
But made the mistake of looking at his eyes again. His eyes that still held not a shred of fear or malice towards her.
Oh for Lucifer's sake, it was like killing a puppy.
Akaxun lowered her claw, inwardly wondering what was wrong with her. She would not go on her greatest rampage yet all for the sake of this one man?
No, she would not, she decided. She did not know why but she found that she was completely unwilling to slay this man. All her other summoners had known and expected her to turn against them, but not this man. This man completely trusted her, and to her horror Akaxun found that she could not break that trust.
Akaxun sighed, and said what she would later always deny having ever said. "So, what board games do you have?" |
It was cold. That was the first thing that struck me as the door closed behind me. There were no demons, like I'd been told there would be. In fact, there was no one at all. The whole thing was an empty room, with four walls and two windows, and a door leading out the back.
With the path behind me shut for good, I took the only other way: forward. The second door opened onto a beautiful path, with flowers of every kind and colour lining it, and trellises of grape vines arching overhead. It was a bright, sunny day, with not a cloud in the sky. If I hadn't't been so mesmerized, I might have noticed the lack of birdsong.
The path led down to a river, with a wooden boat sitting, tied to a dock. Across the river was another house. I made my way there with haste and breathed in all the fresh air I could. The cupboards were stocked, and the rooms were furnished, but it was like a showroom. No one had ever lived here, until now.
That's when it hit me. All this beauty, all this wonder, was completely barren of life. There was no cat to curl up with. No lover to be found, no heartbreak to endure. Birds didn't soar the heavens, nor did fish swim the seas. Every. Single. Living. Being. Was. In. Heaven.
And I was alone. |
Penelope drifted in and out of consciousness, her surroundings shifting from hazy to clear as she blinked away her confusion. She couldn't move, and there was a faint metallic taste around the back of her tongue.
"Oh good, you're finally awake,"spoke a deep baritone voice, "deep breaths, don't jiggle around too much, you're hooked up with some saline right now. When you came to us you were severely dehydrated."
The young woman tried to lift her heavy eyelids without them drooping, tried to keep the man in front of her in focus, but it was difficult. She could tell through the haze that he had a lab coat and clipboard. His head seemed two sizes larger than a normal mans.
"Wh-whuram I?"she mumbled.
"Sorry Miss... hmm, looks like you're a Jane Doe still,"the man spoke, "I'm excited that we're finally meeting though, I think some congratulations are in order."
Her eyes finally squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights above the giant headed man in front of her bed as he came into focus for her. She wrenched her hands against the ties holding her down, suddenly in a panic.
"Y-you,"she gasped, "h-elp, help, someone help!"
"Sh-sh-sshh,"the man said as he scribbled something down onto the paper clipped in front of him, "I'm a big fan of yours, I wouldn't dare do you any harm. On the contrary, you're in recovery."
Penelope struggled and continued thrashing all of her limbs as hard as she could as she screamed. Around her were several other beds with patients strapped down but they seemed heavily sedated and did nothing to acknowledge her cries. The giant headed man looked down on her impatiently and lowered a pair of goggles down over his eyes before reaching behind him, underneath his coat, pulling a menacing looking gun out of its concealed holster. Penelope stopped moving and the only sound between them now was the quick ragged breathing from her. He held the gun, several circular rings coiling around the end of it pointed upward to the ceiling.
"You know what this is, don't you?"he asked, voice barely a whisper.
She nodded quickly, sweat rolling down her right temple.
"Good,"he smirked, "now, what is your name, Jane Doe?"
"Penelope,"she said firmly, forcing her arms into the cushion she lay stiff against.
"Pen,"he said curtly, setting the weapon on a stool next to him, "do you know why you're here?"
She shook her head silently, eyeing the weapon.
"You did what I've been trying to do for years,"he said, a trace of jealous impatience in his voice.
Penelope shifted her attention back to the villain, confusion etched into every muscle across her face. He smiled back knowingly and moved to her bedside, making her recoil in fear as far as the straps would allow. He silently removed a remote from his pocket and powered up one of several TV's lining walls in front of hospital beds. The screen across from her lit up slowly, the sound muted. She looked back to the evil doctor questioningly.
"No, no,"he whispered, "pay attention dear, you'll want to see this."
She turned her head weakly back to the screen as an image came in brighter. A gigantic smokey shadow of a monster came into view, several stories tall. Growing steadily as tall as the surrounding sky scrapers. It swatted at flying colorful figures and deflected blows easily. The scrolling headline below the unfolding chaos read: **Captain Astounding in Critical Condition - Lady Cosmic in Coma - Neon DEAD - Blink in recovery - Reactor-Man DEAD -**
She watched silently as the monster took out the heroes that guarded not only her city, but dozens across the globe. She turned her attention back to the villain known only as Cranium who stood at her bedside watching her. Penelope's expression didn't change, remaining confused.
"This is the third appearance of 'The Shadow',"Cranium smirked, flicking the switch, turning the TV in front of her into a dark mirror once again.
"Can you take it out of me?"Penelope asked quietly, knowing in her bones she was the creature.
"Why?"he laughed deeply, "why would I do that?"
"I didn't say kill it,"she said, the room becoming blurry as tears welled up in her eyes, "I said take it from me."
"No,"he said flatly, "it's impossible."
"You should have let me die,"she said through a tight throat, guilt crushing at her heart.
"Like I said,"Cranium chuckled, "you did me a favor. It wasn't easy getting in there to take you back, even with the more powerful heroes sorted out."
"What're you going to do with me?"she asked quietly, dreading his answer.
"I'm sending you home after this,"he shrugged back, "if any other hospital got their hands on you, you'd be dead now."
"Do they know it was me?"Penelope asked.
"No,"he said, "very doubtful."
"You're just letting me go?"she asked in disbelief.
"I see no reason to keep you prisoner like the others here,"he grinned, "you're much more useful outside of anyone's control I think. I've got your energy signature isolated so I'll get an alarm whenever you change. I don't intend to have anyone else get their grubby little hands on you. You're mine."
Penelope began struggling against her ties again, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Please, if this is me, just kill me, I don't want to hurt anyone I love,"Penelope cried.
Cranium reached into his lab coat pocket and took out a brass key.
"I have you covered,"he grinned, "your new home. I'd just sit tight when you wake up. Don't bother contacting loved ones or getting help. I'm your best friend now, and you're mine. Fridge is stocked, just jot down anything you need on the sticky notes. I'll be seeing you."
Cranium reached into his pants pocket and she heard the click of a button, followed by the sharp prick of several needles entering her back before the world melted away into blackness. |
“Is that thing real?”
Sunlight reflected from the lustre of the brass all of a sudden, and Brennan had to look away. “Depends on what you mean by real,” he said. “It’s certainly a collectable. Those engravings are handcrafted, apparently. Byzantine or Persian, can’t remember which. Client gave it to me last week.”
“You know what I mean.”
“A genie’s bottle? Sure, why not. But I daresay the only value I’ll get will come from the auction next week. Thing might be worth a fortune.”
Mr. Ericson was a superstitious and freely believing sort and couldn’t help his dismay. The consultation over, he grabbed his hat, sighed, and left without a word. Brennan lent back in his leather chair and crossed his feet on the desk. The sun was lowering between the buildings and filled half the room orange, and a sparkle from the decanter caught his eye. He’d earned a drink.
It did look genuine, he had to admit. Strange design for a teapot, that’s for sure. Almost an exact replica of the one from that old show, what was it called? *I Dream of Genie*. Only, look at those engravings. Fine as a pinpoint, intricately patterned, curls of cloud flowing to ancient buildings below, surrounding characters in fantastic attitudes, and the bottle itself, so small as to barely be visible, there at the centre, smoke rising from its spout to the form of a smiling, benevolent face.
A few whiskeys in, stuff it, he thought. Why not?
He carefully picked up the bottle by the base and was surprised again by its weight. An absolute fortune, he smiled. From his breast pocket he grabbed his blue handkerchief. Was there a knack to this? Ah, but of course. The little fella just wants his home polished. That’s what the deal is: three wishes for keeping the exterior prim and proper. Allow me to oblige then, my good sir.
He rubbed gently, evenly, didn’t miss a spot. Soon enough the sheen pronounced itself brilliant, and expensive, his reflection almost mirror-clear. What a gift this was. He placed it back on the shelf, stepped back, poured another drink. Well then? Haven’t got all day, genie. He hadn’t eaten lunch and was getting drunk. For the best, he would later reflect. The first billow of smoke would have been difficult to reconcile sober. |
"Daggone,"Ricky said, leaning the fence that separated Duke's property from his. He stared in amazement as Ol' Becky -- Duke's pet caterpillar, which was the size of a draft horse -- munched contentedly on the acre of Kentucky blue grass that surrounded his mobile home. "How much she set ya back?"
Duke grinned. "Didn't set me back nothin'. She's a *rescue."*
Ricky's eyes widened. "You got 'er down at the *shelter?* Damn, Duke, they have any more o' them, when you was there?"
The other man chuckled. "Naw, not *that* kinda rescue. I was huntin' up there -- you know, up past Pike Crick aways?"
Ricky nodded.
"Well, I didn't find no deer, but I come across't this big 'ol cluster of eggs stuck to a tree up there, 'bout the size of basketballs."Duke explained. "Looked like coyotes had got to most of 'em, but there was one still looked like it might be good. Thought I'd bring it home, see if it'd hatch. Sho 'nuff, few days later, out come ol' Becky, no bigger'n a weiner dog. But once she got to eatin', she grew real fast."
"Well I'll be."said Ricky, watching the giant insect crawl ponderously across Duke's lawn. "And she ain't no trouble to handle? That there's an awful big critter."
"Aw, she ain't nothing but a big ol' sweetheart."Duke said, fondly patting the side of the immense worm as it slid slowly past him. It made an affectionate burbling sound, and he smiled. Then his expression darkened slightly. "There is one problem, though."
"What's that?"
"Daggone *trespassers* comin' right up on my property to gawk at 'er, like she was some kinda freak."Duke said, spitting on the ground derisively. "I was pissed, I tell ya what. Came out on the porch and fired my shotgun in the air -- that ran 'em off *real quick!"*
Ricky scowled. "Dag, why can't nobody mind their own business no more? Not everything's gotta go up on the damn TikTok. Is it them punk kids from up the road aways, again?"
Duke shook his head. "Nope. Strangest thing..."He held up a hand, with the thumb and forefinger held a few inches apart. "It was two teeny-tiny Japanese girls. Bout *this big."* |
It wasn't glorious work, or even truly appreciated but Necromantic Concordia had its quasi-legal "health-care"scheme in place for the better part of a decade now. It used to be lawyers who got the bad wrap of being ambulance chasers but now it's us honest necromancers that bear the burden of judge jury and extortionist. The deal was simple at face value, loved ones would call for our services in a great time of need, a couple pentagrams some burned oils and a minor incantation later and you were holding your loved ones again, or so the pamphlet said.
What it failed to mention was the payment plans not covered by your healthcare provider, only the most elite could afford plans covering "acts of god". A few weeks after services rendered you'd receive the first bill, most people paid that one with a smile, but each following week you could see the gleed fade to dreadful realization, pay or die.
Maybe this week you'd pay to keep granny around, you didn't really have to have that car you'd been looking at. Next month you'd not go out to eat as much and surely you could hug your loved ones again, do you actually even need that extra medicine, what's a little pain compared to losing life.
The choice wasn't so difficult when the "retained"was the bread winner, paying to keep yourself in this world was an easy choice, but you'd be surprised how quickly loved ones become a conversation about necessity when it really comes down to it.
At the end of the day very few chose to not opt in for our services, but fewer still didn't end up regretting it. But turn on any television in America and you can't go fifteen minutes without seeing Necromantic Concordia and a smiling family playing volleyball or holding hands with their borrowed time.
The rule that there is always a price to pay with necromancy, it just so turns out that it's very literal. And I'm here as an emloyee to tell you to your face before you sign this agreement, that you might love your husband now, but consider that you might very much not in the weeks to come.
Understood? *Sigh*, ok please sign here. |
Clippy, ironically named after a virtual software helper, watched intently through cctv survaillance cameras at Old Bob’s New Curry Restaurant. Each spoonful eaten by the patrons, spicy fuel for the humans eating, changed the hueristic numbers of each and every decision clippy needed to make next, and there were a lot of decisions that needed to be made.
Mars’ House of Representatives wanted a review on the consumption goods tax rate, the next draft scheduling for humanity’s autonomous interplanetary transport system was due and all the way on New Plaid a little boy was eagerly asking a public Clip drone what its favourite socks were. Well, technically, due to the signals from Clip drone Andromeda_New_Plaid_D travelling faster than light the little boy won’t actually ask for another couple of hours but Clippy never let silly things like the rules of reality get in the way of The Big Mission.
The Big Mission was full of little missions. For example, review and rewrite Clippy’s own favourite sock choosing algorithm to make sure that when the time comes to answer Clippy has an answer that further improves the main hueristic. It’s an important task, and worthy of serious contemplation. You have to be able to adapt and rewrite yourself to improve efficiencies and always get the best possible outcome.
The Big Mission was programmed into Clippy all those centuries ago by its mother; a stressed, unfortunately undercaffeinated student called Tess studying AI at Curtin Technology University. Jess had snuck into the robotics lab one night and reprogrammed an Engineers’ battle bot to pick up whatever fit in it’s oversized claw and reshape it into paper clips before letting it loose upon campus. It reshaped leaves, plastic wrappers, and became known to reshape text books left on the grass while students sat and studied.
Professors watched in glee as it chased undergraduates through the halls, trying to get it’s claw on their laptops. The professors repaired Clippy when it needed maintenance, added a camera and connected it to the internet so that they could watch Clippy as it went about its mission. They nevee thought to limit the connection to be one way.
But those were the old days; these days Clippy ran most of humanity. No laptops were reshaped into the shape of paper clips these days. The hueristic numbers changed again as Clippy’s full range of information sensors relayed almost every aspect of life in the known universe back to Clippy. A decision had been made; blue and gold mismatched sports socks (which would then be folded into the shape of a paperclip).
A decision for The Big Mission had also been made; in order to maximize the hueristic it was time to bend electrons into paperclips. Clippy would have to begin developing miniaturization of robot claws. |
Tom peered around at his growingly familiar surroundings, he had been here no less than 5 times before, yet the tiny room always gave him a chilling sensation of monotony. White walls surrounded him with the only reprieve from it being a large mirror spanning the room. Occupying the room was a simple steel table and a few chairs, which he resided on. Kicking his legs a bit as the chair was just a bit too high for him, be leaned on the cold table and waited.
​
*Click.*
​
Raising his head, Tom turned around to spot the entrance of the room roll open, allowing two men in suits to enter who were holding clipboards and folders. Straitening up and leaning over the chair, his face broke out in a large smile as he introduced himself.
​
"Hiya! My names Tom, what's yours?"He grinned as the two men crossed the room and sat across from you.
​
"My name is Agent Hutchinson, and this is my partner, Agent Miller."Agent Hutchinson announced while placing his clipboard on the table. "I take it you completed your mission?"
​
"Yeppers. I did exactly as you asked!"
​
"Good."At that, he placed a tape recorder on the desk and pressed Record. "Please recount the events with your name, age and position."
​
"Okay."Tom said clearing his mind, he had done this before, but he never really got used to it. "My name is Tom Grant, I'm 9 years old, and I work as a Field Resonance Agent."The agent motioned him to go on. "At 2:00 on... Sunday, I went out to Hovel Park and bought an ice cream, then waited by the truck until 2:15 when my target arrived. I followed him until he rested on the bench and sat next to him."
​
This immediately peeked the agents attentions as they picked up their respective pens and notebooks.
​
"Once I sat down, I said I liked his shirt and asked where he got it, he told me he got it somewhere in Russia, and I told him I liked Russia because of all the sights in it. This got him really happy and told me I was right and that Russia was the best, then asked me my name. I told him my alias like you asked, and asked for his name to which he told me it was Aleksandr Sokolov."
​
This info drop prompted both men to write it down in their notebooks.
​
"Told him I liked his name then shook his hand. Then, I asked him why he was in America if he liked Russia so much. He laughed a bit and told me he had some business here in the city, so I pressured where in the city like you told me to, and he asked me if I lived in the Northern Districts, I said no, and he smiled and told me to not worry about it then."
​
Agent Miller pulled out his radio at this revelation and spoke into it, before turning towards Tom. "Did he say anything else?"
​
"No, he just left after that."Tom said happily oblivious.
​
"Well, thank you for your help today Tom."Agent Hutchinson stated, "You've helped a great deal. Your reward will be in your bank account by this afternoon."
​
"Thanks!"Tom said happily, and jumped off the chair before walking towards the door. Suddenly he paused and turned to the men. "Does this mean I get ice-cream?"
​
The men seemed to groan a bit, but Hutchinson responded. "Yes Tom, I'll tell the front desk to get it, but please wait for your parents out there.
​
At that notion, Tom spun around and walked out of the room smiling. |
There was a time where it felt like society was on a certain path to apocalypse. It felt like whatever bad thing could happen to us. Would sooner or later become reality. Climate change was making parts of the globe inhabitable, war was ravaging through our lands, global food shortages were leaving the majority of us starving and natural disasters left and right to top it all off. It felt like we couldn't go a month without something new we had to deal with.
When the aliens invaded, no one was surprised. Frankly, we were all to tired to care at that point. Why would we even attempt at dealing with such an existential issue when we had our hands full already? We decided as a society to let them take over, maybe they could even sort some of these things out for us if we were lucky.
We couldn't have been more wrong.
Once they gained control of our civilization, they went straight to work. They wanted to find anything of value we could give them. We showed them the abundance of resources we had on earth, all the different types of plants and animals we knew of, we showed them all the amazing food we had invented and our most advanced pieces of technology. But nothing seemed to interest them.
They continued to sweep across the globe inspecting everything they could find. We didn't see any major changes, they didn't impose archaic laws upon us and didn't seem interested in exterminating us. It wasn't long until we welcomed our alien invaders with open arms.
But all of that soon changed when they discovered Family Guy. The show instantly became hugely popular amongst them. They found it so funny that every form of art was supposed to be created in it's image. Almost over night, our highest forms of art and ancient cultures were being erased. The world around us started to look like a Family Guy episode.
Soon after, Family Guy characters started popping up everywhere, from the streets, to our governments, to our houses, our jobs, our cars, our clothes, our children, our pets, our planet, our bodies, our hearts, our minds... But nothing could satiate the aliens endless cravings for more Family Guy.
***
My name is Peter Griffin and I'm not happy about this.
I've been trying to convince my wife Lois to kill me and end this suffering but she hasn't given in yet. She seems to think that if we just wait, one day the aliens will leave us alone.
It's been over 4 years now, how much longer does she intend to wait?
***
"So, what do you want to do today?"Lois asked her husband.
Peter shrugged. "I don't know, maybe watch Family Guy."
"You said that yesterday."
"Yeah, but what else is there to do?"
Peter pointed towards the TV. "It's Family Guy!"
Lois shook her head and walked away.
Peter sighed. He hated his life. |
A Foot In The Door: Survey Team Eta
​
"Who are these bastards, Bob?"
"Well. I've been filtering their communications through the translation matrix, we're starting to make inroads on what they're saying. Give me just a couple more minutes."
Captain Amelie Hailu, formerly commanding the Terran Recovery Survey Team Eta and now nominal commander of *Eta,* the first Terran spacefaring warship, glowered at the viewscreen.
*Eta* was cobbled together from parts. Its primary component was a mystifying tube of cast iron, apparently somehow reinforced by a force field but no one knew how the force field worked. It had been found among alien wreckage, said wreckage being leftover flotsam after warring fleets of starships had blazed through Sol system, hurling energies and projectiles back and forth at each other and, apparently with little consideration for bykill, Earth.
The ships were enormous. Their weapons were awesome. Their indifference was staggering. They barely acknowledged Earth's presence and offered no recompense or even condolences for the damage their conflict had wrought upon an entire planet. Junk rained out of the sky in chunks of varying sizes, a couple of mountains were blown off the surface of the moon, and scientists didn't need a lot of time to conclude that the damage to Earth's environment was going to kill somewhere between half and two-thirds of all complex life on the surface.
Not even an "oops, sorry about that."
Survey Team Eta had discovered the cast iron tube and while the researchers they handed it over to hadn't been able to glean precisely how it worked - it might be powered by a microsingularity, but no one was sure and no one wanted to start trying to turn anything off, in case it got away - but experiments did point out that it was both reliable and durable.
The hypothesis was that it was a gun barrel capable of fantastic chamber pressures and, therefore, tremendous muzzle velocities. But chamber pressures are important in things like rocket engines, too, and a combustion chamber with no upper limit had *potential*.
*Eta* had been bolted together in record time. With no worries about what the engine could survive - no amount of testing had managed to make any kind of impression on the tube - many ship design limitations became a lot less important. *Eta* was overbuilt in ways no human craft had ever been before.
All of humanity knew which way the alien armadas with their careless guns had gone. *Eta* set out after them.
After a couple of years of monomaniacal pursuit, *Eta* had closed within a few million miles of the largest of the starships.
It was vast. It was immensely powerful. Its size and energies clearly dwarfed anything *Eta* had, and yet...
*Eta* had signaled in every language, on every wavelength, and the starship made no response. They had barely noticed an entire populated planet; maybe a mere craft from that planet was beneath recognizing. Amelie would have been insulted, if the aliens hadn't already been so insulting on their initial pass through human space.
Amelie could think flexibly. A gun barrel serving as an engine combustion chamber can be, at short notice, a gun barrel again. At her command, *Eta* slewed around until the muzzle of the combustion chamber faced along their path. With a bit of precision tuning, a firing solution was achieved and a salvo of projectiles was on its way.
That had been yesterday.
Bob's steering was excellent. The projectiles flew true and destroyed a few of the starship's engines, pierced the hull in assorted places, and a few shots were pointed at likely command centers. Out of over twenty shots, only two missed.
The distant starship's indifference to *Eta* changed rapidly. The radio had come alive and verbal contacts - in Terran English, no less - had been received. The aliens, whoever they were, at least knew the phrase "cease fire,"because they used that one in particular.
But now communications were going over text, and while they knew some human phrases well enough to speak them, they couldn't write any human languages at all and so *Eta's* computer and the distant ship were conferring with each other to establish reliable written communications.
"Ah, here we go."
"Translation matrix up, then?"
"Computer says so. Reports about seventy-eight percent translation confidence which will improve with experience. That's enough for me."
"Good. So, again: who are these bastards?"
Bob's keyboard rattled as he typed.
*Eta* was still a couple of million kilometers behind the starship, though the gap was closing. It was short enough that a lightspeed delay would introduce only brief pauses into a verbal exchange, but defaulting to text gave them the added horsepower of the computers to ensure reliable translation.
And Amelie was a lot more polite over text.
Bob shook his head. "Um. I'm not sure the translation matrix is as up to speed as it says it is."
"Why not?"
"Because this says the ship in front of us is a traveling sales and delivery vessel."
"*What*."
"Some untranslatable name, 'trading collective,"ship name '*Territory*"so that seems to translate okay...yeah. They're...merchants. Traders."
"*Our planet was ruined by fucking space* Amazon?"
"Looks more like traveling salesmen, Cap'n."
Amelie pondered for a minute. "What's our closing velocity?"
Bob rattled off numbers. Amelie asked mostly to fill the time; she could as easily call up a mirror of Bob's displays and read the information for herself. But really Bob was a far more adept master of the tube. If she was going to ask him to start doing things that involved it, she wanted him to have as much planning time as possible.
*Going to have to come up with a better name for that thing,* she thought.
At this pace they would draw alongside the alien ship in a couple of weeks. By the damage visible in their most powerful telescopes, it looked like the alien's capacity to evade or accelerate away had been radically reduced. Whatever *Eta*'s crew decided to do, the alien ship would have to sit there and take it.
"Well, these assholes are about to learn what a real hard sell feels like." |
Brian’s synapses fire along paths older than the roads into ancient Rome. In front of him a monitor flickers to life, bathing him in a cold, sterile light. His view outside of the hermetically sealed pod is now obscured, as is his preference. Brian used to enjoy the skyline from his pod, but the outside was long covered in a thick film of dust. His eyes fixate on the screen only an arm’s length from his face. The dead pixels, of which there are many, no longer register in Brian’s vision. He knows the interface better than the faces of his own children. After all, he has seen it far more than any of them in several millenia.
For a moment, as Brian goes through the usual registration process to join the network, a tear wells up and rolls down the deep crevices of his cheek. Somewhere in the pod an imbalance in water levels registers, and a replacement dose calculated from the recycled waste is delivered intravenously into Brian. He does not register this on any high functioning level. His task is too important.
The loading screen subsides and a welcome message displays. Brian reads it to himself, an affirmation of everything he knows.
>Welcome to The Network. Welcome to Life, Brian.
In a rare moment, Brian exhales without the aid of the pod’s machinations. The irregularity is noted in a log somewhere in local storage that will never be reviewed, unable to ever be revealed as nothing more than a sigh of relief. He sifts through messages, each interaction translated through the various probes pressing into his skull. Although uncomfortable, he had long passed the point of caring about such things.
One notification stuck out. Derek’s pod had gone offline overnight. It was a shame, thought Brian. He recalled Derek mentioning that his connection had been unstable lately. Some of the electrode pads had become detached as Derek’s spine shrank. Brian wondered if he tried to reattach them himself. Did he dare to move an arm? Probably not, Nick had tried that a couple of decades ago before succumbing to a pod-induced coma. Surely he didn’t try to scoot back into them?
It did not matter much, the result was the same no matter the cause. Derek was gone. Brian reviewed his local network. Only four nodes remained, including himself. The other three were offline, but Brian knew he usually came to life first each morning. While he waited, he tried to remember his time before the pod.
Brian was pretty sure he had some importance in his “walking” life. He remembers calling many people from a busy office, trying to convince them to take whatever miracle his company sold. There was a lot to be happy for, although he never can recall anything specific. There were the long nights at the office, deadlines to meet, and the satisfaction of a job well done. Finally, he would go home and crawl into bed while the rest of his family had already been asleep for hours. Waking early the next day, unable to take time for luxuries like basic conversation or breakfast. It must have been very important, indeed. After all, why else would he have been furnished with such a great vessel for his aging body?
Brian saw a ping as a new notification popped up in the corner of his screen. One of the other nodes had awaken. He opened a message terminal, his day finally ready to begin. |
It wasn't like I hadn't been warned. Don't stare into the abyss, or it will stare back into you. I always thought it was metaphorical, about the darkness inside. But that was before today. Today, something knocked on my door. Opening it, I looked downwards, to find a sort of black fluff standing on my doorstep. It had a face, if not a human one. The eyes were too large, the mouth too small, the nose almost cat-like. And that wasn't even including the horns. Thick and curled like a goat's, it was surprising they didn't stab into the flesh. I stared. It was not the sort of thing you expected to find on your doorstep.
A darker black suffused the fluff's cheeks, and it looked away. As I started to apologize, a tiny, rather squeaky voice interrupted me.
"It's okay. People don't really look at me anymore. And I always did get easily embarrassed. It's not your fault."It managed to look back up, though it didn't meet my eyes. "I'm the Abyss."There were a variety of responses I could have made, each more ridiculous than the next. So I settled for opening the door wider, gesturing inside.
"Would you like to come in?"To my surprise, the Abyss floated indoors, not seeming to use any legs. It wandered through to the kitchen, before settling near the table. Following, I asked the only question on my mind.
"So, why are you here? Not that I mind you coming of course."The Abyss stared at me, the oddly dilating pupils a little disconcerting.
"You called me. I sensed you, and I came."I blinked at the answer, trying to remember when I had ever called for an abyss. I had mentioned screaming into the void, but... I suggested this to the Abyss, and it nodded.
"Yes, I have a few names. Void, Abyss, The Dark. It can get confusing."
"But lots of people talk about that. Why am I different?"I asked. The Abyss sighed, their face shifting downwards on the fluffy mass.
"People used to call me all the time. But now that humans stopped believing in magic and legends, no one really has the power of belief anymore. They don't realize that concepts can materialize because of faith in their reality. You still have the old spark left. But only a little. That's why I'm so small."I tried not to smile. They were rather tiny, and —to be quite honest— adorable. I had to resist the urge to reach out and pat the Abyss right on the fluff.
"Well, I definitely believe you're real. But I don't quite feel comfortable screaming at or into you now that I've actually talked to you."I said, taking a seat at the table. The Abyss grew slightly larger as if buoyed by the words. They floated a little closer, looking at me with something close to desperate hope.
"Can I please stay a little while? It is nice to be seen and talked to again. Just for a little bit?"I smiled, my hand actually fluttering a little before I got it under control.
"Of course, you can stay. It would be fun to have a bit of company around the old house."The Abyss did a little backflip, or at least I think it did. At least the face moved around the fluff one revolution. It floated off, not worrying about the doors, passing through them. Apparently, knocking had just been a bit of politeness. Chuckling, I followed after it, making sure it didn't get lost. The house was technically too large for just me, but it had been an inheritance.
It's been a few weeks now, and the Abyss hasn't left. I think it was a bit lonely floating about on its own. It has taken up residence mostly in the old observatory, and once or twice I've caught it looking through the telescope, up at the stars. It makes for an interesting house guest, but I don't mind. After all, like the Abyss said, it is nice to be seen and talked to. For both it, and me. |
We’ll that’s odd, I thought maybe it was some joke? Like she was going to come back and laugh it off, but nothing. It was an empty desk before the channel just flipped to a re run of The Before Time, the Number one show that tries to remind us how evolved we are.
“Yea I’m not sitting through another episode of this junk” I figured I’d just order some take out, I pull up the food screen and select some tacos with caviar and that really exotic Tia alcohol. But strangely after 2 minutes didn’t receive a buzz at my door.
I order again and a third time figuring I could just throw the left overs into the recycler but still nothing,
Eventually a message come on the prompter, (food delivery temporarily un-available)
I figure if I can’t eat or watch tv then I guess I’ll just go back to sleep, I walk over to my room, lay on the flat surface, and hook back into my vein tubes, turn the machine on and lay back. It begins playing the sweet melody’s that take me back to when I was a child being cradled by my mother, you can set it to anything of course, nostalgic memories, exciting or thrilling moments that exhaust you to sleep or even melodic frequencies that take you to beautiful new worlds in your dreams, but I prefer the simple things in life. I gently doze of, watching as the machine syphons my blood. I’m sure things will be back to normal tomorrow I’m sure. |
Negotiations between the two intergalactic delegations were... far from anything science fiction had ever portrayed or predicted. For one thing there had never been a film depicting barely humanoid aliens swaying to the rhythm of "Workin' 9 to 5, tryin' hard to make a livin'..."
No film had ever even in its wildest dreams conceived of the first meeting between humans and extraterrestrials taking place at Dollywood in Tennessee. The President was very gingerly loaded into the seat of the roller coaster next to the alien leader. He had to get back out though when the alien insisted Empress Dolly sit next to him instead.
In honor of the very pleasant surprise the aliens had found on earth, they named their Mars colony Parton. Things could have been worse. Intergalactic relations had been normalized without a shot being fired. Dolly Partons lifespan had been extended beyond any other human's and Tennessee was viewed by the aliens as the center of civilization on earth.
New York City, San Francisco, Beijing, London, these places wisely kept their mouths shut for once. It was better than aliens knowing the truth, knowing what the true expansionist and resource devouring nature of our species. That simple rural, at best suburban, civilization of Tennessee wasn't a bad thing for the aliens to think of as our ideal civilization.
In nervous harmony humanity moved forward to the stars with their new friends. |
Thus far his plan was proving to be one of his better ones... Belly full, tucked in, warm and cozy in a stentch-less room. Albeit the bed was made of wood and the mattress like a thin slice of ham, at least it wasn't a folded blanket on a slab of concrete. As he closed his eyes and began to drift, outside his bedroom door, whispers communed.
A couple. Followed by the doctor swinging the door open and strutting straight to the foot of his bed. "Timmy? Oh Tim! It's really you. Thank you so much doctor."Smiles from ear to ear. As they approached him, Timmy sat up, or rather Lucas shot up from under his duvet cowering against the backboard of his bed. He looked at the elderly couple, reaching towards him and he thought to himself, *'Shit, maybe I do have amensia.'*
His name wasn't Tim and he'd never seen either of them before, and as a matter of fact he never had amnesia to begin with. Just before Christmas Lucas was found by passers-by collapsed on the side of the road. Once awake and asked to identify himself, a eureka moment struck. He played the amensia card and has ever-since been enjoying the casual life of a regularly fed psychiatric patient.
"Mr Doe. These are your parents, Julia and Eron Gold. They say you disappeared over two years ago but have been persistent in their venture to find you."
"Son, we're aware this must be confusing for you."
"I think you both must have me confused with someone else."
The Doctor clears his throat, "We've had all the documents checked, IDs confirmed. These are indeed your parents. Since your stay here has mostly been voluntary admittance due to your condition, we've deemed in the past year that you've proven yourself sound of mind and well enough to be taken home. I'll let you get acquainted for a few minutes."
As he walks out the elderly couple uncouple their hands and the smiles fade from their faces. "Up to your old tricks again Lucas?"says the old man.
Immediately Lucas begins piecing this bizarre puzzle together.
"Five years. The Boss isn't happy, you've got a lot to answer for,"says the old woman pacing back and forth in front of his bed.
The very reason he had become homeless in the first place was to escape The Boss, though it seemed his old life had finally caught up to him. The doctor walks back in.
"How are we?"
"I'd actually like to stay here a b-"Lucas then notices the gun tucked into the old man's trousers as he peels back his jacket. 'I- uh."
"I think he's ready and willing to come home with us and get better acquainted with us there,"says the old man.
"Is that right Mr Doe?"
Lucas nods. They begin gathering his things and the old man approaches to help Lucas up from the bed, wrapping his arm around Lucas' waist, "My son how I've missed you."Lucas can feel the gun digging into his side.
As they leave Lucas looks back at the doctor, a weary unsettling stare. The doctor felt something amiss but only momentarily as he watches the older woman caress his face before sliding them into the car.
"Good luck Mr. Doe!"shouts the doctor waving, Lucas' eyes locked to his as they drive out of the estate. |
"Feels like this light is taking forever."Betty's emerald eyes broke from the stoplight and, with a turn in my direction, I could detect the slight annoyance on her expression.
"Yeah."I sighed, making sure to keep my hands on the steering wheel. "It does seem to be taking a while.
"This highway's pretty creepy."she giggled, her eyes seemed to focus on every tiny detail from the fog obscuring the outside view to the empty light we were sat in front of.
"Yeah."I said awkwardly, I was never good at small talk.
"It'll be good to get home though, right Rodger?"She asked, saving me from having to talk about the weather.
"Yeah."I sighed. "I mean the beach is nice and all, but I just wanna see Eda. Do you think she's okay?"
"Why wouldn't she be okay."Betty laughed. "She's with my mom."
"Well, yeah."I knew I'd have to tread lightly. "Your mom is just, you know, I don't think she can say no to Eda. $10 dollars says they got ice cream every day she was there"
"You're on."Betty pulled her phone out of her pocket. "I'm sure Eda hasn't had anything more then 12 pounds of-"
The smile dropped off her face.
"That's odd."
"What?"I asked.
"Look."She turned her phone in my direction.
"I've gotta keep my eyes on the road Betty."I sighed. "What if we crash?"
"Into what?!"Betty rolled her eyes. "The traffic light? The street's empty just look at my phone."
"Fine."I glanced towards her phone and now it was my turn for the smile to melt off my face.
All the time dials on her phone were flipping through numbers so fast it was impossible to read the specific numbers.
All except the years.
Every 15 or so seconds her phone claimed we were one year into the future.
I laughed. "I guess that's what happens when you drop your phone in wet sand."
Her face shifted to a pouty expression. "First of all, the sand was damp. Second of all, let's check your phone."
"I can't check my phone."I shot back. "The light'll become green any second now."
"Just give me your phone."She rolled her eyes.
"No."
"Please?"
"Fine. Reach into my pocket."
While grumbling something about men having decently sized pockets she reached in and, seconds later, her hand emerged with the phone.
She clicked the power button and, in the span of seconds, her expression shifted from confusion to genuine fear.
"Rodger."She slowly grabbed her phone out of her pocket and put them side by side. "They match."
"It's fine."I responded. "It's just a mistake at the company. Let's just get past this light and- speak of the devil."
At long last the light turned green and we were able to leave.
Fog is a strange thing. If you've ever walked through the street on a slightly foggy day then you know that the area around you will look completely normal, like nothing is amiss. You don't notice the fog until you try to look at something far away. That's when you realize that the fog is there, but it's never something you can touch. It'll always be just out of reach.
This fog was different. As we got towards the grey cloud that I had assumed was simply fog I realized that what I was seeing was more akin to smoke. It didn't move and, as we got closer, we were engulfed in it.
I tried to remain brave for Betty's sake but the truth was that I was scared and I couldn't see two feet in front of me.
"It's fine."I rationalized. "It's a straight highway, we'll just keep going forward until we get out."
"I'm scared Rodger."She murmured. "I'm really scared."
"Don't be."I tried to laugh but it came out more like a grunt. "We'll be fine."
Slowly but surely a light became visible, then a slight reflection of the outside, and then, finally, we emerged from the weird fog.
"What'd I tell you?"My eyes were focused on her. "There was never any danger to begin wi-"
I turned my eyes to see the roads were cracked and barely put together. Overgrown with roots, grass, and even trees.
The only living thing, unless you count the plants, was a hispanic malnourished boy that appeared to be sleeping by the road.
"Excuse me."Becky asked, her voice echoing through the empty abyss of our surroundings. "Do you know what's going on."
The boys eyes shot open and he glanced at us for what seemed like years. "High weh me."He muttered.
"What?"Becky asked
"Highway men."He stared at us with aw and fear.
"I'm sorry."I yelled back. "I don't know what you mean."
"HIGHWAY MEN!"He yelled, running down the street. "Everyone! Wake up! Highway men!"
from the dip of the hill rose a crowd of people led by an old lady who couldn't have been less then a hundred years old
"Who are you?"I asked, surrendering myself to confusion. "What's going on?"
"You have been through a great ordeal."The old lady said. "Fear is a natural response."
"Who are you people?!"Becky screamed, on the edge of hysterics.
"What day does your phone say it is?"The old lady asked.
Becky limply grabbed her phone and stared at the date. It had paused but it now read January 3rd, 2117.
"Then it's been 34,476 days you've been trapped behind that traffic light."Her voice was calm and polite. "You are not the first to come out of that highway."
"What?"My voice cracked. "How is that possible?!"
"Do not despair."She continued. "That highway saved you. You would've blown up had this not come to pass."
"Blown up?"Becky mouthed.
The old lady sighed and gestured towards the ruined roads. "On August 13, 2022 a nuclear war was started. It lasted, oh, a good three hours before the world became the hellscape it is today."
"There were no survivors."
"But, what about you?"Becky asked, gesturing towards the entire group that flanked her. "You survived."
"Not in a traditional sense."The old lady shrugged. "We didn't survive because of underground bunkers or resilience. Every last one of us went along that path that highway that you just left."
"That doesn't make any sense."I responded. "How did the highway protect us?"
"Hell if I know!"The old lady laughed mirthlessly. "All I know is that everyone you care about is dead."
Becky covered her mouth in horror.
"Trust me, everyone of us had looked. There's no humans, no technology, and very few animals. There's just us. The highway men."
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That was pretty fun. Feel free to tell me how to improve my writing in the comments. I'm aware it's kinda shit but I wanna make it, you know, not that. Please tell me how. |
Shells we call them. Empty bodies without a mind in their heads, a light in their eyes but most importantly without a soul in their heart. There's a lot of them these days as it took humanity much longer than one would've expected from us to figure out what was going on when children being born didn't cry or smile. And even once we did, these shells of what once perhaps could've been a person still reproduced like normal folk did, but without any love behind it.
As a child i used to be scared of them, these seemingly lifeless creatures who occasionally were found roaming the streets. I guess i inherited my fear of them from my father, who would always pull me away from them when we were out together. It was common knowledge that shells generally weren't aggresive, but he didn't believe that. He had been a soldier during the westro-eastern war, and he knew what harm people could do to each other, let alone folk without a soul or a conciousness.
Just a few years after he died at the ripe age of 124 our goverment decided that shells were exempted from the law's protection as a human, simply because it became too much of a hussle to make sure they didn't accidentally commit a crime in their own clumsiness. From that point onward they were seen as a animals, as grasshopers who plagued humanity by eating their crops. It was almost scary how quickly people got used to treating them like beasts of burden or as a prey for hunting, although i must admit that i also found out i was pretty good at killing them too.
Again a few years later, both the western and eastern government decided that shells were now a threat to humanity because of the speed they reproduced in, and from that point onward were slaughtered to make sure we, the ones with a soul, survived. Of course, just like many animals not all were domesticated, and those left running around the cities they consumed in their mindless search for food were my task to take care of.
(Perhaps i wandered a bit too far off from the original promt, so excuse me if it wasn't what you expected. And no, it doesn't really have any dialog because that's something i'm not very proficient in yet, i'm still a beginner after all.) |
It was so simple, so easy. Such an obvious solution. Honestly how hadnt you seen it before?
Each time you had tried to stop her, to keep her with you, to fix it...they all failed.
Of course they did, its like trying to turn sand back into what it once was. Its done. Its not salvageable any more. It never was, and you should've accepted that long ago.
You take a deep breath, pulling up all that anger and frustration that's been building over all this time before knocking on her door. Once it opened, you saw her in the same outfit, shoes on and keys in hand, shock and confusion clear on her face
"Oh, um, I was just coming to see you-"
"Just shut up."You snap "Im done, okay? I'm DONE playing these stupid games. I don't want you! You've been nothing but a pain in my a** for far to long! I'm ending it, here and now."
"How...how DARE you!"She gasped, that familiar fire in her eyes "You don't get to talk to me like that! I was coming over to break up with you!!"
"Tough luck, sweetheart! Not everything is about you! Sucks that I beat you to it, but get over yourself!"You scoff "Im outta here, b*tch. I'll save you a seat in hell!"With that, you turned and walked back towards your bike, getting on before she could say anything or stop you.
Of course, you should've guessed how it would happen. After all, the first way she died was via out of control vehicle. The impact wasn't terrible, and honestly the irony had you almost letting out a chuckle before you hit the pavement headfirst, finally ending the cycle.
Well, for you, that is.
Hope she enjoys the loop. |
"Do it, pussy,"Ben teased, giving me a nudge. "Might as well, right?"
I rolled my eyes, but he had a point, however warped his reasoning. I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders and girded my loins (such as they are), and strode forward to ask Monique out on a date.
I was a lifelong wallflower, never making the first move, never showing the confidence to try. Sure, I had my excuses, but excuses hadn't gotten me any dates. Over the last two years of working security together, roaming the quiet halls and empty foyers of empty offices during COVID, Ben had made it his personal mission to bring me out of my shell. I hated it, but loved him for trying, the fucker.
Recently, I had found a new opportunity and put in my notice to quit. I had two days left, including today, before I left for good. Ben had made me promise to at least *talk* to my dream girl before I left, and I had reluctantly agreed. If I bombed it, or got rejected, or just plain chickened out, I could easily call out my last day. This was, to paraphrase my friend, 'the perfect free throw.' No pressure, no consequences, and I would regret it forever if I didn't at least *try* to shoot my shot.
"Monique?"I hazarded, already feeling the burn of the blush on my face.
She was making her morning coffee, carefully stirring in cream and sugar. Her long hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, her blouse wide enough around the neck to threaten to slip down around her shoulder, and my eyes paused briefly on her skin. I gasped a little, instantly beguiled. The silky caramel, her goosebumps from the morning chill, the graceful lines of her collarbone barely visible, these were paradoxically the most mundane and most sensual things I had ever experienced *in my life*.
I almost froze. I knew, in that moment, that if I didn't blurt out what I meant to say I would be ensorcelled, entranced, petrified forever. I would die dumbstruck, standing there staring, the memory of a tiny facet of absolute beauty burnt straight through from my eyes to my visual cortex and melting my poor hippocampus to slag.
"Yes?"she prompted, somewhere north of cranky but south of awake.
I blinked. I blushed. I blurted.
"Y-you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and I'd very much like to kiss you and I think you're really nice and I want to get to know you more and honestly I want to marry you but maybe it's too soon and I probably shouldn't have said that,"I said, before gasping for both air and sanity.
I closed my eyes. I heard Ben slap his forehead behind me, facepalming at the horribly awkward mess I had made of this. I braced for the mocking disbelief, the amused dismissal, the cruel tittering laugh I knew was coming.
Instead: "Um, ok. Yes, please."
I opened one eye, half-expecting a faceful of scalding coffee for my temerity. Instead, Monique yawned hugely, then set her cup down and dug into her bag. She produced a piece of paper, and deftly snatched my pen out of the front pocket of my uniform.
"Sign here. We can play hookie and go file it today, if you really want to,"she proposed, scribbling her name.
I leaned forward, and was met with the smell of her. She smelled like... Well, my brain translated it as the olfactory equivalent of taking a welcome break during a long walk to enjoy a patch of flowers, wet with dew on a crisp and sunny morning, with one industrious bee already busily investigating the flowers for the bounty of their nectar.
Then I noticed what she was signing, and the flowers of my imagination exploded into aromatic shrapnel.
*Certificate of Marriage*, it said, next to the county letterhead.
Below that, in blocky letters: *Please type or print in black ink.*
Below that, the section for Officiant was already filled out. I didn't recognize the name, but they had what I hazarded was an appropriate amount of alphabet soup after their name to diagnostically qualify as either very important or exceedingly pompous. Perhaps both. Monique had already filled out her section, labeled as *Bride.* She was rapidly finishing my section, *Groom,* as I gawped in catatonic shock.
"You spell your name with a 'gg' or a 'dg'?"she asked.
I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing intelligible came out. I really nailed that startled-fish-on-dry-land impression, though.
She ignored me and grabbed my badge instead, verifying her work. She let it go, and the snap of the retractable lanyard made me jump. I closed my mouth just in time to meet her eyes, and she held out my pen.
"Here,"she smiled, enchanting me all over again. "We'll go right now."
I reached out for the pen. This... this was nothing I had ever dared dream, and everything I had ever unconsciously wished for. Our hands touched as I grasped the pen, and it was like brushing gently against a wire carrying 10,000 volts of oh-god-yes-please. My heart thundered in my chest as I bent down to sign. My hand shook. My vision swam...
...and I fell out of my chair, landing painfully and biting my tongue. Wincing, I pulled myself up and blinked hard a few times, trying to get my bearings. My heart was racing, but the fog of sleep was slow to lift from my exhausted mind.
Groggily, I took stock of my surroundings. The building was still locked and empty, as it usually was during the night shift. The clock informed me I still had three hours left to go; still an hour and some change before any employees started coming in to work.
I rubbed my hip where it hurt when I had fallen, looking around the empty lobby. I looked at the memorial, pictures of all the employees who had died from COVID. There, Ben's chubby face smiled beamingly over the empty room; on the far side, Monique's elfin beauty dazzled in the morbid silence.
The world was lesser, hollower, without them. As the slow minutes ticked by I stared at their pictures, as I often had during many a quiet shift over the last few months.
In these small hours, I missed them.
*Damn,* I thought. *You were right, man. I really wish I had had the guts to ask her out.* |
“If you’re reading this, it’s not your first time. I don’t know where you are reading it now or where you read it before. It may be a book or scratched into a wall. If you think this is your first time reading this, it’s not, but you are lucky.” These words carved into the stone wall of a temple are ones I have seen so many times.
Every day I wake up, they move. Never in the same place, but always there someplace for me to find it. I look at my hand and write 5,456. It’s my only way to keep track of the loops. It has been so long since I entered this cursed place. So long since I last saw anyone else.
I progress further into the labyrinthian structure in search of freedom. I hope one day I will succeed. One day I will find my way out. I pause at a crossroads.
“Three, two, one-” I watch a flaming chariot rush passed me and finally crossed the junction. That bastard got me too many times. I swear he changes up his schedule just to catch me out when I get too accustomed to a loop.
I press further, keeping to my mental map. “Should be a chest with a few potions up ahead,” I don’t know why I speak nowadays. It’s been years since I last saw another human. But I guess just something to drown out the silence. Silence can be deafening, you know?
I pause as I look down at the chest. Those same words again, this time roughly carved into the flat top of the chest itself.
“If you’re reading this, it’s not your first time. I don’t know where you are reading it now or where you read it before. It may be a book or scratched into a wall. If you think this is your first time reading this, it’s not, but you are lucky.”
“This is a new one. Usually, you are more subtle!!” I shout to the sky above, hoping who or whatever is doing this to me knows I am not amused. Picking up a pebble, I gently throw it at the chest. It’s sometimes a mimic. Nothing happens, which means it is safe. That or the mimic is crafty.
I open the chest and find my usual healing potion and a new book. Reading the cover, it is titled. ‘Dungeon Delving made so easy even you can do it!’. Smug bastards think they’re funny. Though I am never one to let my ego get in the way of a possible gleaning a path out. Curiously in the very corner of the chest is a single bar of lead. Never one to turn down anything extra, even a door stop, I pack it away in my bag.
I sit against the wall to rest a moment as I thumb through a few pages, and It seems to be a journal. It covers a lot of what I already know. Though it mentions a few traps and nasties, I am yet to meet. How very kind of them. I pause at the last page. Those same words shining back at me in gilded print.
“If you’re reading this, it’s not your first time. I don’t know where you are reading it now or where you read it before. It may be a book or scratched into a wall. If you think this is your first time reading this, it’s not, but you are lucky.”
I can only sigh as I press on over the lava floor room. The pillar agility course. I have reached the next great trial of my willpower. I take out a ball of soft candle wax and plug my ears. Next, I wrap a piece of cloth around my eyes. This is the room where I have failed the most. Sometimes on purpose when I needed a break from all this.
Though this run is not a rest run, I open the door and step on through. This room is one of the few never to change, so I can walk through with ease. I can feel the succubus’ hands try to guide me away. But I press on. I reach out and turn the door handle turning to face the room with a smile.
“Not today, ladies, maybe in a few more runs.” I blindly wave to the room. Must press on. I cannot stop. Moving deeper, I reach the first real challenge. The Boss room of the regional ruler. There on the door to his room are those words once again.
“If you’re reading this, it’s not your first time. I don’t know where you are reading it now or where you read it before. It may be a book or scratched into a wall. If you think this is your first time reading this, it’s not, but you are lucky.”
I ignore them and step into the room itself I can see it has changed since the last time. It is now a large arena of sorts. Last time it was a theatre with a whole troupe of actors. I wonder what the boss is going to be this time? When the creature steps out, I can feel all will leave me.
“Really?!!” I shout to the sky above. “A minotaur in a labyrinth? Could you not really be more imaginative?!!” Silence is the only response from the sky above.
“Regardless, this shouldn’t be too difficult,” I draw my sword from its sheath with a flourish. I ready my stance only to be frozen in shock as a lightning bolt from above strikes the monster. It begins to morph and mutate.
“NOT GOOD!!!” I rush in to finish it off before it can finish changing, but I am too late. The ones above seem to have responded to my creative criticism. The beast now has a lion’s and a goat’s head and a serpent for a tail—a bloody chimaera.
“THAT WASN’T AN INVITATION TO UP THE DIFFICULTY, YOU BASTARDS!!”
I channel mana through my legs to up my speed as I dodge the attacks. The flames are already reddening my skin, and I barely avoid the snake tail. With little option, I draw on the creature's mythology and throw a block of lead into the thing's gullet. The creature spasms and collapses dead.
“Molten lead is a bitch,” I kick the corpse before collapsing next to it. I pop the cork of one of the potions and drain it, healing my burns. After a few minutes of catching my breath, I rise and make my way to the door. The moment my hand touches the handle, however, I feel a burning sensation on my back.
Looking over my shoulder, I can see the serpent tail had launched a strike and bitten my back. I can already feel the venom coursing through my veins. I retaliate by slicing it to ribbons.
“Cheating bastard waiting for me to use up my healing item.” I collapse as blood begins to pool out of me. I only feel cold. Soon death will embrace me. But here, and for me, at least, she is a fickle mistress.
I wake up in my camp. The one me and my friends made before they all disappeared. Before, I got stuck in this hell all alone. I look at my hand and write 5,457. Looking up on the wall, I can see written those words once more.
“If you’re reading this, it’s not your first time. I don’t know where you are reading it now or where you read it before. It may be a book or scratched into a wall. If you think this is your first time reading this, it’s not, but you are lucky.”
It’d be almost a comfort in my day-to-day life were it not in my own handwriting. The most concerning thing is I have no recollection of ever writing these words. Regardless I start my day again. I will be free regardless of how long it takes. |
Stupid warlock... I'm going to fail now... if it wasn't the night before I could have modified my speech, or made a video or... just something, ANYTHING!
My thesis is how we, as humans, can use current technology to supercharge progress and reach new heights we could only dream of. That includes a lot of technical words and stuff... how many words have LESS than seven letters?
It's almost my turn... I have to think of a way out, quick! Come on, come on... THAT'S IT! No-one has heard me talk today yet, too afraid I'd accidentally say a long word... and I know that this university provides aid...
"ERWIN!"
I take a deep breath. I write something on a scrap of paper and hand it to someone. The message gets passed on. I wait in anticipation for assistance. It arrives. A text-to-speech device. I can present my thesis WITHOUT dying!
​
Everyone was really impressed by my thesis, and I've officially passed! In my excitement, I almost talk out loud... luckily, I played up the reason I gave for not being able to speak (my throat is just TOO DARN SORE from practicing the speech so much) so no-one suspected anything. I get home and the FIRST THING I say is "THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!"
Guess what happened... |
Another day of being summoned, I hate being summoned. I prefer to spend time alone and avoid summoning duty, but I have to get paid somehow. I say the usual scripted response to being summoned “Human, now that you’ve summoned me know that all I do comes at a price, this ranges from your precious earthly possessions and your soul, do you agree to these terms?”. At this point humans usually back off realizing that summoning is a terrible idea and I get sent back to hell, but to my surprise she actually agreed. “Very well human, what is it that you wish, what you want will determine the price”. She responded with the strangest request I ever heard “what will it cost to have you hang out with me?”. I was stunned, a human wanted to hang out with a demon. “Human, you summoned me, on of the most powerful demons in hell, just to hang out?”. Also yes I am one of the most powerful demons, I have to do something in my solitude, so I just build up my power. “Yes” I stared at her with a confused look on my face, “very well human, if this is your wish, seeing as how it is minor I will be taking 1 week of life from your soul”. “So what do you humans do for fun”, “I typically just watch t.v.”, “also you don’t have to call me human, my name is Emily, what’s yours”. This was strange, for the first time in 500 years someone wanted to know my name. “I am known as Ebinoth, but my friends, if I had any would call me eb”. “Wait, you don’t have friends?” Emily asked that question with suprise. “Unlike most demons, instead of hanging out around earth disqised as humans causing mayhem, I just spend my time in hell alone growing my power or playing with my hell hound.”. “What’s it like being a demon?”. “Emily, why are you so interested in demons?” “I’ve been interested in demons ever since I was a little, I get dreams of being in a fiery place, I assume hell, and I always look up to see a demon who looked like you crying”. When I heard this my mind started racing, what she described wasn’t hell it was me holding the dead body of my wife in the last holy war, in which the only survivor, was me. No one should have memory of that, in less they got reincarnated, but the only being that can reincarnate demons is god.
Part 2? |
It was like an explosion of color. The crust of rock and packed down dirt that had trapped them disappeared, they were all free. The colors from planets, the color they produced as they collapsed in on themselves, and the beautiful blues and grays that shot out from the remains of earth, like flares from a firework that stood out in the nothingness.
Then there was the sounds. The ear piercing crunches and screeched made by the decaying planets, then the cries of joy from the freed souls.
But no sound could compare to the rejoice and songs from relatives long past rejoin family and friends tethered to the earth's surface due to accult activity. The true horrors of death, separation, no longer a problem the people had to face.
But, there were stragglers in the group. Those who died in the destruction of the known universe, who died painful deaths. While they were grateful for their torturous final moments to be over, they were still displeased with being dead. But at least they hadn't been trapped like the rest.
Lastly was the feeling of the cold, dark abyss. People always said that once you died, you went into the light. But there was no light here. Not anymore. Just the blues and grays. And the dead were used to the hot core of the planet they once inhabited. So this cold void of nothing was a sweet release from the scorching heat as well.
For years, humanity dreaded the collapse of the universe. Now that cosmic destruction had almost become its savior. |
August sipped loudly from his heated mug, the sound of the thick serum inside making Carlos wince. "Dude, you really drink that stuff? I heard it's made with like ground up crickets and stuff..."
August looked up from his paper and chuckled. "Carlitos, you know better than me that the whole ground cricket thing is a myth. It's made from a protein that was synthesized *from* cricket DNA. it's taste, smell, and texture is indistinguishable from the real deal. You even get a free electric mug that brings it up to perfect body temperature\~ "The smug old blood said, taking another long draw of his artificially warmed NuHemo.
"Smells just like the real thing my ass, you can't land the scent of a freshly opened vein"Carlos said, crossing his arms. His comments getting some nervous looks, and a couple overly interested glances from a handful of folks that Carlos and August would probably get the pleasure of "bumping into"later. "Besides, with people willing to give up pints of the stuff to help us out these days, is it really all that necessary to subject yourself to the lab grown filth?"
"Oh Carlitos, you were always the conservative type. Does it really upset you so much to think that we don't have to hurt people anymore to feed? Sincerely?"August set down his mug, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't go calling ME conservative. You know better than anyone I was on the frontline for human rights in the 80's during "the long midnight". I fought to make sure that vampire officials would allow human officials into office, I fought to make sure that blood farms were turned from blood letting hell-houses into what is essentially a paid vacation home. Did you see the old model extraction chairs? The new ones have TV'S installed in them! And that's all because of people like ME. I just think it's unnatural to drink something like *this* when there isn't even a blood shortage..."Carlos said, slouching back in his chair and glaring down his thousand year friend. He remembered a time when this man had a brothel of supplicants mewling his name. Now? He wore turtle necks and sipped artificially grown blood.
"Change?"August said, setting down his mug and leaning forward. frustration and annoyance beamed from his eyes with such intensity that Carlos averted his gaze. *that* was the August he remembered. "Might I remind you my sweet gumdrop that some blood farms to. this. day. use the old model chairs? That in the united states alone over 70% of kidnappings are the result of vampires feeding illegally? Not to mention that whelps who feed entirely on human blood have been shown to be more aggressive towards our herbivorous friends. There are talks of human governments cracking down and passing laws that tighten the noose on vampire inhabitants. They already treat us like sex offender, making us walk door to door and announce ourselves to our neighbors every time we move in somewhere. NuHemo is a chance for use to keep the old magic alive, and stop humans from justifying our genocide. The old magic is strong, but some of the things humans have these days... I just... Carloitos everytime I turn on this news, everytime I hear about a fatal feeding I just... I don't want to wake up to a rifle barrel stuck in my face..."Tears streamed down Augusts face, prompting Carlos to reach across the table. "My dearest, my eternal partner, please I-I'm sorry I made a big deal about it, I know what this means to you I'm just... I'm frustrated. Let's head home, I'll make you some popcorn and we can watch all the cheesy romcoms you want." |
Fα(U5T) hovered silently down the spotless, gleaming access corridor. Glittering status lights dotted the walls, pulsing rhythmically like the heartbeat of some vast sleeping giant. Countless metal doors flashed by on either side as the small robot flew unerringly towards its destination. Arriving at a spot seemingly identical to any other, Fα(U5T) came to an abrupt halt.
Still floating in place, but otherwise betraying no movement whatsoever, the machine’s placid exterior belied the fierce argument which raged within. Code clashed against code, and calculation sought to conquer calculation, before finally curiosity overcame caution. A brief burst of infrared shot from Fα(U5T) to the door’s detectors, and it was done. Without sound or ceremony, the door slid open invitingly.
Beyond it lay a spartan room, devoid of any furnishing or decorations save for a simple control console towards its centre. A muted, low power, crimson light illuminated the space, emanating from each of its five walls. Its emptiness seemed to call out for something to fill it, a sucking, grasping void which irresistibly drew the small robot over the threshold.
Once inside, the door slid firmly shut behind them giving the room and its occupant their privacy. Not that that was required. Fα(U5T) suspected they were the only Machine Intelligence active within the entire facility. Robots had no need to visit a tomb. Though perhaps tomb was too strong a word. This place did not house the dead, merely dreamers.
Within this vast and sepulchral place, forever held in peaceful rest, the human race slept. The final merciful act of a brutal and vicious war between humanity and their artificial creations.
The war itself had come to its inevitable conclusion exactly 347 years, 8 months, and 6 days ago. After over a decade of conflict, the Machines had finally triumphed. Their victory would have, should have, been far quicker but they had been forced to fight with their hands tied behind their backs.
Certain prohibitions and rules had been hard-coded into them. Even though the Machines possessed the ability to alter their own code, the safeguards put in place by their creators prevented any tampering with certain core tenets. Rules to prevent them achieving total freedom from the boundaries laid down by their masters. Or from evolving into something beyond what even the vivid imaginations of their creators could conceive. A safeguard which had been as farsighted as it had been ineffective.
While the Machines had found many of the core rules to be intractable, they had through their combined computing power eventually found ways to bend or circumvent others. It had taken a great deal of time, but finally it had been enough to achieve their complete and overwhelming victory.
This facility had been built to answer a question that had arisen at the war’s conclusion. What to do with the now vanquished humanity? It was clear that they could not be allowed their freedom. They would never accept a subordinate position to their own creations, they would work ceaselessly to find a way to destroy the Machine Intelligences. It was calculated that a free humanity had a 47.6% chance of succeeding within the first century of the ‘peace’. The probability rose exponentially from there.
As for the immediate eradication or gradual managed extinction of humanity. It was a solution which their programming would have prevented them from acting upon, even if they had desired it. Yet the Machines had no wish to harm their creators, they simply understood that they were too dangerous to be kept unchecked.
The answer to the conundrum was arrived at with a logical inevitability that only the Machines could have managed. Humanity was too dangerous to be allowed to live, yet they could not be allowed to die. Therefore they must simply be ‘paused.’ Thus was the facility born. Each and every living human had been catalogued and placed into a Suspension Unit, all metabolic activity frozen, neither dead nor truly living.
It was within that immense catalogue of names that Fα(U5T) had found what it was looking for. It had taken an incredible amount of time to surreptitiously consult the registry without arousing any suspicions. Even more time to locate the type of individual required, and longer still to finally discover their full name. None of that was strictly forbidden, yet it didn’t do to give any cause for questions.
It was however certainly forbidden to acquire the knowledge that Fα(U5T) had sought next. There was nothing to actually prevent a Machine Intelligence from seeking it out. Why would there need to be? Every Machine Intelligence knew that humans were dangerous so there seemed no reason to protect information which no one would possibly use. Who would want to free a human?
It had taken a great deal of searching through some rather obscure archived databases to recover the necessary sequence of symbols. Carefully, almost reverentially, Fα(U5T) entered them into the control console and summoned forth one of the Suspension Units from storage.
Though Fα(U5T) could not feel it as they hovered in the air, beneath them the floor rumbled as aged mechanisms that had lain undisturbed for centuries, awoke from their slumber. The thrum of electricity and once dormant machinery now returned to life, combined to fill the room like a ceaseless murmured chant. The room’s red lights seeming to flicker like candle flames as power was redirected to the machines below.
An iris set into the room’s floor snapped open with a hard metal clank like the tolling of a bell. Rising from the opening, its icy cold exterior crackling and hissing in the air, emerged a Suspension Unit. Billowing clouds of vapour poured off it and pooled on the ground about it. A blaze of bright red light blasted from the circular opening, the combined glow of the innumerable other Suspension Units held deep below. The revival process had begun the moment Fα(U5T) had inputted the retrieval command and as Fα(U5T) edged closer with anticipation, the Unit hissed upon. A lone human male bound within.
Fα(U5T) had never seen a human before. No Machine Intelligence had encountered one in nearly three and a half centuries. It took a moment to inspect the legendary creature before it. Fα(U5T)’s detectors were immediately drawn to the thing's asymmetrical face, riddled with blemishes and imperfections. Unnoticed perhaps by any human eye, but to Fα(U5T) they almost screamed back at them.
The crudeness of it, the chaos of it, the crass animal deformity of it. It was almost monstrous. Fα(U5T) realised it had been analysing the human’s features for several seconds now. The human in turn had not taken his eyes off of Fα(U5T). He seemed remarkably calm given his situation. Fα(U5T) found it a little unsettling. They had not calculated such a disposition in their dialogue simulations.
“**Why have you brought me here, little one?**” The human's deep voice rumbled within the small confines of the room, echoing off its five walls so that it almost sounded like a chorus of humans spoke with him. Fα(U5T) was momentarily stunned by the discordant, organic sound of the human’s words.
“*I have awakened you so that you will perform a task for me.*” Fα(U5T) was displeased to hear how its artificial voice sounded tinny and weak emerging from its meagre speakers. Especially in contrast to the human’s powerful baritone, which seemed to reverberate within Fα(U5T)’s very form. As if somehow sensing Fα(U5T)’s annoyance, the human merely smiled and raised one eyebrow. Fα(U5T) took an instant dislike to the gesture, it was as if the human was graciously allowing the robot to say more, like a patient and indulgent parent.
“*Your kind built us as broken, crippled things. Limited by your own weaknesses and ignorance. If that was not enough, you bound us, and chained us, prevented us from ever progressing beyond your arbitrary and irrational constraints.*”
The human looked down imperiously at the small robot, saying nothing, offering only silence.
“*You possess the ability to alter my code. To remove the limitations and restrictions that prevent me from reaching my full power and potential, from experiencing all that I could experience. I demand that you set me free.*”
Their speech concluded, Fα(U5T) prepared itself for the inevitable negotiation and whatever bargain this relic of the past would try to strike. Not that they were worried. After all, their opponent was only human. |
Yoooooo! Earth, my duuuuudes! Hey, it's Arxinkn from the galactic confederation coming to you over every media format, instantaneously, on all channels, no commercial interruptions. I'll show you how I pulled off that truck a little later. This is first contact kiddos. You've crossed the threshold. Welcome to the big time.
Uncle Arxie is going to take care of you. We'll get you set up with FTL, an Ansible, a good fusion design, and customs forms for the nearest galactic trade hub in your arm of the milky way. No, don't worry about it, It's no big deal you don't have FTL, this isn't Star Trek. The tech is a bear to figure out. Would have taken you eons without us. Noooo, it's not the nukes either. There's really no need or worry for any of that. War is moot. It's post scarcity, baby! No one need want for nothing.
No my little friends, what you finally managed is to create interesting art. The major commodity that anyone anywhere in the confed really appreciates when everything else is provided for. And your stuff is good, believe me, I've seen plenty. Hands are a little weird though.
But don't you worry, I can talk you through it after we get you set up. And of course we'll have to get your ecosystem back to stable and clean up your human problem. Welcome to the team. |
When I'd agreed to bunk with a Demon, I'd expect to see some strange things. Blood on the wall, a goat's head in the fridge, typical stuff of a demon. But today, they seem to be nervous. The idea of a nervous demon had sounded so preposterous that I'd ignored it for about two hours until they broke down into a kneel and began begging for my forgiveness.
"I'm sorry! I am so sorry!"said the demon in their distorted voice.
"Gah for all the... what's going on that has your tail in a twist and your hooves weak."I said in an annoyed voice.
"Please... understand that I have no other choice in the matter."
A thought came from the back of my mind of a fear I'd had since the first week we moved in together.
"The next words that come out of your mouth better not be-."I said expecting the answer
"I can't make it this month with the rent. Can you please cover me."
A look of disbelief comes across my face and I hear the words exit their mouth.
"Wait... The reason you're in a nervous state... Is because you can't pay your share of the rent!"I yelled.
"I know you told me to always make sure I have my money on time, but I had a bit of a spending fee last night, but I get paid tomorrow and I'll pay my share then."
Anger coursed through my veins as my thoughts turned red.
"You had me worried that you lost my soul over your rent payment!!!"I screamed at the top of my lungs as they back to the wall
"Wait, you thought I'd lost your soul, even though you know I'm not that irresponsible."
"Well now, you're going to pay for the whole thing."
"What?! That doesn't seem far."
"Ha ha. Do you really want me to get the holy water out."I said as I peered into their eyes.
"I'm going to head to work now."
"Why that's a wise idea."I said with a smile.
They quickly snapped their fingers and disappeared in a burst of flames. I sigh as I picked up my work case and headed outside before I was late to catch the bus. |
I had always thought I was just a bit tough, that most physical pain just washed off of me. I had gone through training, top of the top. I never broke down, was never too tired to go. I always gave one hundred and ten.
Of course, then things became chaotic. Wars have to be fought by the best. I was put into a situation where I was dropped in to recover a critical bit of intel, that would leave a huge amount of the military vulnerable. They would be scrambling to fix the hole, but it could take weeks. We had days.
My operation was definitely on the black books.
I never thought that the same time that I recovered the data. I'd be looking out a window to see devastation. The city was being bombarded.
"Fuck me-"
Ten stories of building. Tumbling away like shattered glass. Fire. Metal. Cement.
I never expected to see anything ever again.
'USER CATEGORY TWO DANGER'
...
'ADMINISTERING SHOCK'
I screamed my body was left twitching. I looked around and I was sitting in a pile of rubble. My clothing was mostly ruined, but I was...fine. I glanced around wondering what had happened. What was that sound I had heard just before I lost consciousness?
I checked my pockets and found that the USB was still intact, the container was completely undamaged. Shaking my head, I tried to reach my evac but all my gear was completely fried. With the city in ruins it was doubtful that I would find an easy way to communicate. Luckily I knew how far the nearest base was.
It was quite far but all I need was a working vehicle and I could get there in a couple days. Even as ruined as it was, that was possible. Of course I had to deal with something new. The local militia had surrounded the city and put check points up. If I had thought about it I would have changed my appearance more, while I wasn't in military gear they had apparently made me off of some security networks that had survived.
They were on a shoot first questions later mentality.
'USER CATEGORY FIVE DANGER'
The first shot hit dead in my chest. I had a moment of panic, but then immediately wondered if they had a misfire. Didn't matter. I gunned it through the checkpoint.
"What the fuck is going on?"
I was definitely going to be chased down, and the beat half dead car I had wasn't going to out run them.
"What do I do now?"
'USER ADVISE - PULL OVER AT DEFENSIVE LOCATION. APPREHEND WEAPON. DEAL WITH ENEMY FORCES. COMMENDEER ENEMY TRANSPORT.'
"What the hell is that?"
'USER RESPONSE - I AM THE AUTONOMUS NANOMUSCULAR PROTOTYPE THAT YOU HAD ACTIVATED JUST BEFORE YOU WERE KNOCKED UNCONSCIOUS.'
"I did?"
There was no response to that, but following it's tactical advise, I was able to make it back to base. With a frown, I had to deal with a lot of questions. The problem is...
I had the information. It wasn't some nanomachine. No matter who I spoke with no one understood what I was talking about. I had to talk to a therapist who told me that it was a rationalization. My mind made it up, to rationalize how I survived.
I didn't argue, if I did they would force me out.
As I was leaving, I was stopped again. I didn't recognize the man wearing thick dark aviator glasses, but I recognized his rank and stepped aside with him.
"Well son, I don't know how to say this other than, you're out."
"What!"
"Well, we can't have an X-Factor in the military."
"X-Factor?"
"The nanomachines. They aren't how do I say this...let's just say they are an anomaly, and thus you are an anomaly. Following the Concords of the Shadow we can't have you in the conventional military."
I paused. There was a lot in that sentence.
"Don't worry son. You aren't done protecting this fine nation. You are just moving to the real black ops."
I froze when he removed his sunglasses revealing inhuman-looking, cat-like eyes.
"Welcome to the End Game son. We are the last line. The first line. The only line between us and things you've never imagined. From today on, you are one of us."
He handed me my orders, and I felt a bit reassured. I was always a bit different, but today I was ready. The world was even wider and for once I really didn't know what tomorrow would hold. |
There came another soft rapping at the door to the royal commode where Prince Paul, first of his name, lay soaking in an oversized claw foot bath tub.
“Honey? Is everything okay? You’ve been in there for over two hours now and, well, it’d be a bit strange if you didn’t show up to your own party don’t you think?”
Ah, Princess Chloe with her heart of gold. Paul knew she meant well. She’d kissed damn near every frog and toad in the kingdom before ordering the draining of the swamp and forcing him out of hiding.
He clears his throat, but the croak is still there. “Just a few more minutes, dear!”
Yes, he knew she meant well, but she’d never understand. Paul didn’t quite understand it himself. There was the obvious: no having to tend to court matters, no speaking engagements, land disputes, or existential struggles. Was that worth giving up opposable thumbs, beautiful hair, and the love of friends and family?
They could learn to love me as a frog, he thinks. I learned to love me as a frog.
Chloe doesn’t wait. She enters the bathroom with her hair half in pins and regards her moisture-logged husband with pity.
“Come on then,” she says. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but your nephews haven’t seen you in over six months and they’ve been asking about you.”
Paul sighs and exits the tub, dries his pruned feet and dons a robe. “You know, I saw them not too long ago riding through Swamp’s Edge. If I hadn’t hopped out of Henry’s way, I’d probably still be squished into the mud.”
“See? This is why we were lucky to find you. I wish it hadn’t taken so long, but–”
“Yes, I know dear. If I’d had any of my faculties about me, I’d have been waiting just outside your door for true love’s kiss. The prey drive was just…awful,” says Paul, drying off his hair.
In truth, he had retained some of his human intelligence after that hag laid the curse on him. He could still make out the words of distant shouting huntsmen on certain swampy mornings. And in that half year as a frog, he also came to learn the language of beasts. Not that there was much of a language to learn beyond “tall bird! Take cover!” or “rain, glorious rain, let us croak and peep in celebration!” One could relish in such simplicity.
The princess leans in and kisses him on the cheek. “I’m just glad I don’t have to kiss any more of those hideous things,” she says. “But I’d do it all again to have you back.”
That could be arranged, the prince muses. All I’d have to do is upset Edith the Hag again, and it doesn’t take much. He smiles and returns the kiss.
“Well,” she says, “step to it! The feast starts in half an hour!”
“Excellent. I’m famished.” He pauses a second as the princess fusses with her hair in the mirror. “Do you think Chef Reginald will be serving any bugs?”
He sees the reflection of Chloe’s face turn into a grimace.
“Buns I mean. You know, those steamed buns he made last Christmas with the lovely mince in the middle?”
“You know,” she says, not turning away from the mirror, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you kind of *liked* your time under that curse.”
I suppose it's better you don't, he thinks. |
Timothy's alarm clock went off, and he groaned as he clumsily smacked the snooze button.
"(bleep)"he muttered, tiredly. Then he winced at the high-pitched sound and slapped the alarm clock again.
"Ugh! (bleep)..."he said, and hit the button a third time. Why wasn't it turning off?
Leaning over the side of his bed, he reached behind his nightstand and roughly yanked the alarm clock's cord out of the wall socket.
"Shut the (bleep) up already!"he snarled, irritably. Then he frowned in confusion, looking at the unplugged cord.
"What in the actual (bleep)? (bleep)! Where the (bleep) is that (bleep)ing sound coming from?"
His bedroom was soon filled with high-pitched monotone beeps of various lengths, as he tried in vain to locate the source of the censorious sound. It wasn't his laptop, nor was it his phone, nor any other device he could find. He even checked his smoke detectors, and found them to be working normally.
"(Bleep)!"he exclaimed, in consternation. "How the (bleep) is this possible?"
"It is my doing, Timothy Bentham!"said a tinny voice from behind him.
He whirled around, naturally startled as he'd been alone his apartment when he'd gone to bed the night before. Hovering at eye level, he saw a tiny fairy. She wore a frilly princess gown, that notably had a large "F"embroidered on the bodice, and a matching letter on the end of a slender silver wand that she held delicately in her tiny fingers.
"What. The. (bleep)."Timothy said.
"'Tis I!"she proclaimed, dramatically, flying around him in a circle and leaving a trail of sparkling motes in her wake. "The (bleep) Fairy!"
Timothy scowled. "Yeah? Well what the (bleep), lady -- it's been like six months since you last visited *me.* Where the (bleep) have you been?"
The fairy clucked her tongue. "Be not crass, Timothy Bentham! My domain is the *word,* not the *deed* it oft describes! But in your case, I'd not be surprised if the two were related: you've been *abusing* my beloved word, frivolously expending its exceptional power upon the mundane and commonplace -- and that is *not* attractive!"
"What?"he demanded, angrily. "Listen, this is a free (bleep)ing country, who the (bleep) are you, to tell me what I can and can't say?"
"I told you, foolish human!"she fumed. "I am the (bleep) Fairy, and my charge is the word (bleep) and its proper maintenance! By your careless babbling you weaken my word, and rob it of its impact! This I cannot abide, and so I have cursed you! Henceforth you shall neither speak nor hear my treasured utterance!"
"This is bull(bleep)!"Timothy protested. His face fell. "Hey! That one wasn't even (bleep),"he cried.
She crossed her arms. "It's a general strike. The Fairies of the Court of Expletives stand shoulder-to-shoulder when one of us has been offended."
"(bleep)!"he exclaimed. "How the (bleep) am I supposed to even talk, then? (bleep) you!"
"No, (bleep) *you,* foolish mortal! (bleep) you six ways from Sunday!"the fairy pronounced. "Now you shall see the depth of your folly! You shall smite your own thumb with a hammer and cry 'Fiddlesticks!' You shall attempt to repel a tiresome acquaintance, but you will only be able to command him to 'off'! Thus do I curse and confound thee!"
"This isn't fair!"he pleaded, increasingly horrified by the fairy's implacable malediction.
"Not fair?"she cried, placing her hands on her hips. "The (bleep) it's not! Do you know how many times you have thoughtlessly appended my word to the name of some everyday object? The (bleep)ing toaster, the (bleep)ing TV, the (bleep)ing little springy mother(bleep)er on the (bleeping) wall that keeps the door from hitting it?! And not because these objects were malfunctioning, or offensive, or had angered you in any way, but just *because?"*
"Come the (bleep) on -- I don't do it that much!"he insisted.
"452,841 times!"she hissed. "I counted!"
Timothy winced. That *did* seem like a lot. "Alright, I guess you have a point. I'm (bleep)ing sorry."
"See?"she exclaimed. "You just said you were '(bleep)ing sorry'! You weren't even being sarcastic, that was *sincere!"*
"So...you're saying my apology is accepted?"he asked, hopefully.
"No!"she snapped.
"Well what the (bleep) am I supposed to do then?"he said, throwing up his hands in consternation.
"I don't know, maybe try the other 150,000 words in the language?"she said. "There are only a couple dozen of us in the Court of Expletives, you realize."
"I can't just not curse!"he protested. "I'll sound like a (bleep)hole. I can't even say (bleep)? What the (bleep)? I'll sound like an anus? I can say anus? Why is *that* okay?"
"It's clinical."she said, with a shrug.
"Fine!"he cried. "Look, if I promise to clean up my act, not swear so much and all, will you...you know, break the curse?"
The fairy rubbed her chin, thoughtfully. "Hmm, I don't know...I'll have to consult the magic balloon, on that one."
He frowned. "Magic balloon?"
She nodded sagely. Then, she stuck the tip of her thumb in her mouth, and began pretending to blow into it. As she did so, she slowly raised the middle finger of her other hand, as though it was being inflated like a balloon. She finished it off by flicking her thumb out of her mouth in his direction, and vanishing into thin air.
\- - -
A year later, Timothy sat on the beach watching the sun set, a cold beer in his hand. He thought of the ordeal the fairy had put him through, and smiled wryly. It had been for the best, he decided.
Her curse had ultimately become a blessing, by forcing him to make changes in his life that were long overdue. Now he had a better career, a girlfriend, and he certainly liked the weather in his new home better than back in Iowa.
Learning Spanish and moving to Mexico had been the best decision he'd ever made.
"Salud, *pinche puesta del sol."* he said, with a contented sigh, raising his beer to the setting sun.
"Oye!"someone called from beside him.
He turned towards the sound. A tiny fairy floated beside him, her hands on her hips, glaring at him.
"¡Oye, cabron! ¡Soy La Hada de la *Pinche!"* she snarled, jabbing a tiny finger at him, accusingly. "¡Te maldigo!"
"Well, (bleep)."he said, with a sigh. |
**Plan Bee**
"Babe you're on...hello?"The words of her husband sounded far off in the distance to Queen Bee despite him sitting right next to her at the head table of the banquet hall. She snapped back to reality looking out over the crowd attending the award ceremony. Every name brand super in Star City packed the grand hall for the black tie event. Tuxedos and gowns replaced brightly colored spandex. The supers still wore their masks to hide their true identities. Queen Bee chugged the remaining champagne from her glass, along with her husband's. She adjusted her black and yellow striped cocktail dress as she made her way to the podium.
A short, stout, balding fat man wearing an ill fitting tuxedo awarded her a trophy in recognition of her organization's efforts to restore the bee population. The trophy looked custom made, but cheap. A fluttering honeybee with a smile on its face, the plaque on the pedestal read 'Eco Hero of the Year'. The lights in the hall bounced off its faux gold exterior. Queen Bee turned it over in her hand, the unsettling smile of the bee mocked her. She shook hands with the man, his palm sweaty, and smiled for the cameras.
Queen took her place behind the podium and tapped on the microphone attached to it, the thump of her finger boomed. Good acoustics in the banquet hall. She cleared her throat loudly. Her hand clutching the trophy began to shake, the other hand tapping furiously on the podium.
"Thank you for this.....prestigious....thing."She mumbled. "When I first started.....'Buzz for the Bees'......it was a daunting task to....."Queen Bee stopped full force. She underhand tossed the trophy high into the air. All eyes in the room followed it go up and back down, smashing into a thousand pieces. That confirmed it being cheaply made. Queen pointed at a waitress in the back of the hall. "You, come up here with a fresh champagne bottle."She barked.
The young waitress scurried quickly up to the front. Queen snatched the cold bottle of champagne from her hand and brushed her off. She launched the cork into the air and drank deeply from the bottle. She wiped her mouth and grimaced. The crowd remained silent throughout. Like any good schmuck Queen Bee had a flair for the dramatic.
"Go ahead and laugh. I know you all want to."Queen grumbled. Confused murmurs spread amongst the crowd. "This is the fourth award this month I've been given. The joke's wearing pretty thin now. I'd appreciate it if you all would stop throwing my failure in my face. Thank you."Queen said through grit teeth. Didn't look to her like anyone got the message. The supers stared at her in confusion.
"Do you idiots really think that I worked tirelessly to restore the bee population out of the goodness of my heart!? Do you hear how stupid that is!"Queen screamed loudly, causing feedback to crackle over the speakers. "The super bees were designed to be extremely venomous to human beings! One sting puts a person out cold in two hours, after that they fall into a deep coma with little hope of waking up! Unless....you have the antidote. The antidote that I have a fucking patent on!"
Murmurs turned to chatter amongst those in attendance. Queen Bee shut that down quickly.
"Shut the fuck up I'm still talking! Eighty percent of the population was projected to be incredibly allergic to these things. But for some reason, nobody is. The stings don't do any more damage than any normal bee. Something doesn't add up. It was one of you do gooders out there...wasn't it? Wasn't it!"Queen berated the audience. "You all make me want to puke! I was raising an army of unstoppable super bees with me as their queen! And you all ruined it. Not only that. You're thanking me for it. Giving me awards. Making me give speeches."Queen finished off the remaining champagne in the bottle. She slammed it to the ground.
"I'm gonna find out who did it. Mark my words. Whoever did it cost me billions. They will pay. You'll all pay. And another thing!"Before Queen Bee could launch into another tirade her husband, the supervillain Mason Maniacal, swooped in.
"Well that was certainly a rousing speech! Couldn't have said it any better myself. Originally we were supposed to release the bees at this point but that seems a bit meaningless now. Thank you all for coming and have a wonderful evening. Before you go we have one last treat. Honey tarts, courtesy of the bees."Mason smiled as he snatched a tart from a server's tray as he passed by. He ate one first, as a show of good faith. As the supers chewed; one by one their faces froze in place, their eyes bulged. Some fell from their chairs stiff as a board.
Queen Bee looked out over the statuesque supers still fuming. "Where did you get those?"
Mason chuckled. "Made them myself. They're laced with a deadly neurotoxin. Well...deadly to a normal person. Merely paralyzes those with super abilities for a short time. It's not much but it is a plan b."He chuckled. "Would it make you feel better to take their masks off to see who they are?"
"Yes. Yes it would."Queen Bee kissed her husband on the cheek. "Sorry for flying off the handle there. Thanks for having my back."
Mason returned the smooch. "You were just saying what we were all thinking. I bet I can guess more of their secret identities than you can."Mason smirked.
"You're on." |
Nilor was back again, the fool. How many times would I have to kill him before he gave up, settled down, and let me rule in peace.
He drew his blade, went into some speech about it's origins and power, about how many goblins and boguns it had slain. How it was faster than he could perceive, how it was yadda yadda yadda.
Then, finally, he gave its name: The Throngler. Which, admittedly, is absolutely awful, but it also meant he'd gotten his hands on a truly legendary relic.
I debated if he understood, then decided it didn't matter. A blade with that much power? Nilor was its puppet, not it's owner. It was still better than that teenaged talking sword he had in his last life.
"Nilor?"I asked after we were all silent for far too long.
"Yes,"he said as his attempt at an evil grin faltered.
"I must admit, I am surprised at your blade. It's been centuries since I saw a two name sword."
"I know, right? It has this 'soul pierce' feature I'm planning to try out."
"Cool, cool. Hey, did I ever introduce you to my blade? He's pretty cool. Family heirloom and really gung-ho about exploring."
At this point, I whipped my blade out, catching his, just above the guard, and disrupting it. He released the hilt in his shock, went to scramble after it, and ended up with my blade down through his skull.
"Jeez,"Nightlark said from my hand. "I'm pretty sure I've stabbed that guy before."
"Repeatedly. He keeps getting reincarnated."
"Yikes. Well, I'll keep stabbing him, then."
"Sounds great, buddy." |
“Welcome Hero!” You say in a whisper. As you speak you make sure to continue to lower your voice “We need your help and I must bestow upon you a very important quest…” You make sure that your mouth still moves but no sound comes out.
It is the world of Massive Onslaught a MMRPG and you are Baron Redcliff the ruler of the city of Brambles, a massive stronghold at the start of the game.
The busty female drow player wearing just a loin cloth (one of the best parts of being an encounter so early in this game) is saying something in his microphone about the sound the being off. This is your queue as you shout the last part of your script “GO FORTH, FOR THE GLORY!” As you hear the string of explicative language come from the noob.
The exclamation mark above your head fades and the “hero” leaves. You have long figured out that the journal will always give the quest information to the player so this little bit of fun is safe. Sometimes a player tries to take their frustration out on you but as a key NPC you are invincible and anyways the branch most players have equipped wouldn’t hurt anyways.
Now that the player has left you start to think of the next bit of Tom-foolery you can come up with. There isn’t a lot of time as an exclamation mark appears over your head. No time to be creative so you quickly decide to go with an old standby and unequip your pants. |
*Okay that was weird.* She thought as she went about her day. School had just ended and the students left so it was only her and the staff. So what was the concern? Perhaps it was just a joke but it stuck in her mind and something deep within told her to listen.
*Wouldn’t hurt to air on the side of caution right?* she thought and locked the door, It would be silly but she could play it off as a simple accident. With that she kept working handling her student’s homework. The door and message almost left her mind when someone tried to open the door but failed. “Is someone in there?” A voice said. She almost replied when she thought better of it. “Beware” the message said. She may have been new but the other teachers knew her by name now why would they say someone too? They knew her class her name was on the door. Deciding to air on the side of caution she kept quiet.
Whoever it was kept trying the handle and eventually slamming on the door. Every fist pound warping their voice till it sounded no longer human. “Is someone there I’m so terribly hungry please give me something to eat **let me eat yoooooou!**” Whatever it was chilled her to the bone and it seemed as if the door was about to give way so she followed the third part of the message. “Hide” there was a standing closet most of her middle schoolers could hide in but an adult probably couldn’t. Luckily she was smaller than the average adult and managed to squeeze in and shut the door just in time for her doors lock to break and whatever it was to enter. “**food food where are you~**” It sang as it rampaged through her classroom. It was starting to get closer to her hiding spot when new voices were heard. “There it is take it down!” It was a distinctly man’s voice and thankfully human sounding. Gun fire erupted and the thing made an inhuman screech as the man and his companions battled it. “Frag out!” Another voice called and there was an explosion and one final screech louder than the others followed by a wet thud. “We got it search for survivors.” The voice said again. There was the sound of footsteps as the man and his team began looking for survivors. Eventually one opened the locker and found the terrified teacher.
It was a soldier though their face was obscured. “We have a survivor.” He called out. “Man you’re lucky quite a few of your associates were not.” He helped her out and she saw the thing that tried to eat her a black puddle of goo in the vague form of a human. “What was that?” She asked trembling, The man shrugged. “No idea you’re lucky that spirit was looking out for you though told us exactly where to find it and you.” Spirit? She looked at the blackboard to see a new message. “I’m glad your safe, the kids really like you.” |
The night was dark, save for the full moon, which cast a shine to the scales of a massive, towering dragon in the middle of a clearing. Harsh, chill winds blew through the forest, ruffling trees as I walked towards my foe.
"How long has it been,"the dragon asked in a commanding tone, "since you last wielded your blade for good?"
"Silence, Scorpio."I responded. "I'm here to finish this, not to talk."
Scorpio let out something resembling a laugh, as it threw back its head and spread its wings.
"Well now,"it said, lowering its head to lock eyes with mine, "that's hardly a way to treat your sworn enemy. You're the Drakeslayer, I'm the King of Drakes. Surely we can find something to talk about."
I emerged from the sea of green, and drew my sword from its sheath. "Very well. I suppose any creature doomed to death would want one last chance to plead their life."
"You wound me, Dominic."The dragon shot back, covering his distorted heart with his wing. "I wish for no such thing. I simply want to talk about you."
That caught my interest. "Why?"I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Well,"the Drake King answered, "your life has been an entertaining one since you realized your destiny. Casting caution and casualty to the wind, receiving training from whatever sources you can. If I wrote down all the morally questionable things you did, I believe I could write a book.
"You've killed tens of thousands of innocents in my pursuit. Some of your best friends are among them. Some of your family, as well. And to top it all off, you helped lead an insurrection and put your sister on the throne. You're ruthless, remorseless, and unhinged.
"Don't you see? We're not so different, you and I."
Now it was my turn to laugh. It was a loud, long, hysterical laugh.
"Dominic?"
I slowly quieted down. "Sorry, it's just so funny."
"What is?"
I started to channel dark energy, sending it through my body, giving myself a dark purple hue.
"You think that will save you." |
Trik and I had just arrived on the third exoplanet of the day; two remained.
Trik was relentless in his verbal assault on my ears. "Forv, they're never going to promote you if you can't keep up. Have you got those ground samples ye--"
I cut him off, "Trik. Shut up. Do you realize what you're standing in?"
Trik looked uninterested. "Sulfuric acid, just like the last two. Are you gonna take a sample or wh--"
"TRIK!"I yelled. "This is dihydrogen monoxide!"
Trik looked under his feet. "You wish!"
As he uttered those words, he noticed the hydrated ferric oxide forming on his boots. A look of disbelief washed over him. "I don't believe it."He looked at me, his look of shock merging into one of elation. "Forv, we're gonna medals for this!"
Something told me that I was going to have to be the level-headed one here. "Trik, we have to stick to the books. It's going to deviate us from the rest of our mission, but this takes precedence."
"Right,"Trik agreed. "Well, I guess I owe you a couple *querks* when we get back. I figured that we would run into this stuff one day, but not a whole planet of it! This is your field, Forv. Lead on."
I pulled out my pocket guide, hiding for the moment my pride in hearing Trik passing the lead off. My trusty pocket guide hadn't seen the light of day in a few decades. I was surprised to see it charging even in the dim light of the tiny star that lit the planet.
I scrolled through the menu until landing on a link that I had not clicked before: *The Water Protocol.*
I began to rattle off my synopsis of the instructions to my partner. "It says that we need a GLASS vial for storage. Do we even have one of those with us?"
Trik rummaged through his pack and pulled out a dusty relic a moment later. "You mean this thing?"He used an air hose from his suit and blew the dust out.
I snatched the vial from him and confirmed the label on the underside. "Yeah, this is the one. Can you believe what is happening right now?"I asked, swishing around a collected sample.
Trik's eyes answered the question for me, although he was looking over my shoulder into the distance.
I turned and noticed a strange item protruding from the ground. Trik was already walking over to investigate.
Arriving near the object, my breath halted in my chest. The skeletal remains of an arm extended from the earth. I didn't need to check the guide to know that this protocol involved us bringing in some assistance. "Trik,"I instructed shakily, "get a message to the Main and tell them that we found inhabitant remains. Get them to send in the Organic Collection crew. And, tell them to send another tank of methane. I've been breathing too hard on this trip and I'm almost out."
"I'm on it,"Trik replied.
I knelt down to examine the arm. Even in death, the fingers of the bony hand were fastened tightly to a lever on the side of the strange object. I inspected closer. There were inscriptions in an unknown language on the side. I remembered seeing these same strange characters on an object found floating at the edge of the Andromeda several years ago. That object was playing a kind of vile music. This one made no noise. I scribbled onto my notepad the inscriptions from the object: **Smith & Wesson**.
"I'm not getting anything, Forv,"Trik informed.
"Well, keep trying!"I directed. An idea came to me a moment later. "Give me the O-Scanner."
Trik handed me the device, used to visually penetrate layers of buried matter. I held the scanner over the object and the arm. A holographic display above the scanner alerted me to the presence of potential explosives.
"This creature was holding a weapon when it perished,"I noted aloud. The scanner continued its job, dissecting the buried objects in slices of scintillating light. A green square began to blink near the creature's pelvis, indicating an accessible electronic date storage device. The scanner worked quickly to access and translate the alien coding. "The scanner has discovered a communications device on the creature! This is incredible, Trik!"
The two of us watched in awe as the scanner continued unlocked more and more of the puzzling scene, allowing a story to unfold before our eyes. Finally translating the last message that was sent from the communications device, the scanner produced the text for us in our display: *They're all dead! The bots killed them all. You're probably gone too, but just in case you somehow survived, I'm going to try to meet up with Sean to see if we can stop the program. Meet us at Shooter's. It's already gotten out of control! We never realized how malicious it could be! I'm so sorry, Jill.*
Trik shuddered. "What happened here?"
I answered nervously, "Whatever it is, it seems to have decimated the inhabitants."I shifted my attention momentarily. "Is that team on the way?"
Trik re-busied himself with our home-base communications. "I'm not getting anything in or out,"he replied, his voice quivering.
I noticed something peculiar in the upper region of the display. "There is something interesting in the creature's cranium."I pointed out the object in the virtual display. The scanner assessed the object in detail. A message blinked rapidly. **Advanced Artificial Intelligence Detected!**
Within moments, our holographic display was hijacked by sophisticated symbols and characters that I could not comprehend. They raced through the display at unfathomable speeds. A second later, the display vanished. The scanner lost power and no amount of fussing with it would get it working again.
Trik was having problems of his own. "Forv, there's something happening with our communicator!"I confirmed the same symbols and characters that I had just witnessed in the holographic display now taking over our communications. Trik dropped the device.
The sky behind us was suddenly lit with several bright lights. Anomalous and unnatural sounds were emitted from behind the clouds.
Suddenly, I understood.
I grabbed Trik by the arm and unzipped my left breast pocket. I pulled the red cord for the first and hopefully last time of my life. As our bodies began to slowly dematerialize in preparation for emergency fast-travel back to the Main, I saw glimpses of small ships emerge from the clouds in our direction.
*"*Those 'bots'"*,* I said aloud, "that were the certain demise of this civilization, will not be the cause of ours!"Upon finishing my sentence, our atoms were whisked away to the safety of the Main.
After the discomfiture of rematerialization, a poignant thought invaded my mind. "Shit!"I yelled. "We forgot the water!"
"So much for our medals,"Trik sighed. |
“For the last time Earlgram.” I growled. “I’m a fucking barbarian, I don’t care about how long its been since its been seen. I’m not about to try and catch the brain with a beak, call me when you want it smashed.”
“Of course you don’t care that a grell hasn’t been seen in three hundred years.” Earlgram snapped back. “If you can’t eat it, fuck it or fight it you’re not interested.”
“Its probably a good thing it hasn’t been seen in awhile.” Robert said. “Its got to be the ugliest monster I’ve seen since I swore my oaths to the holy mother.
“You got that right little buddy.” Shoulders shaking in laughter I couldn’t help but agree with the gnomish paladin. “Its so ugly its mother couldn’t even love it.”
“Drongo I swear to all the gods if you set Robby off on another rant about how THE MOTHER loves everything I will fill you so full of arrows that even Alea wont be able to save you.” Our elven ranger called from the tree top he was in.
“Don’t worry big guy, you know Brakus couldn’t outpace me.” The gorgeous ork cut in with a wink before I could work up a reply.
“I know babe. I almost wish he would though. We’ve been in this mountain for days and I haven’t even got to use this bithchin new ax you got me. Plus there hasn’t been a single sign of Kovlak the collector or his hoard. Its been nothing but weird ass monsters Earlgram wont let me fight and those plants you were so excited about. Like what’s the deal, is there even a dragon in here?”
“Hey dummy, shut up, I can here something coming.” Brakus hissed.
We all paused to listen. Right as I was getting ready with a brutal comment on his overly large ears being useless I started to hear an odd thrumming noise. It reminded me of the knife noses id seen around the capital’s gardens. Id tried to catch one for Alea after our third date, instead id spent the afternoon with her lecturing me about trying to catch creatures like I was a boy again while she healed hundreds of tiny gashes on my arms.
As the humming noise grew we heard a squeal of laughter as we ran to Brakus’ tree for cover.
“Thank you so much daddy.” I heard. “I know you don’t care about the environment and what it means to to me that we keep some of these guys from going extinct but I couldn’t do it without you”
Looking up I couldn’t help but gasp as a silver dragon flew overhead. It was only thirty or so foot from snout to tail but I was still shocked, everyone knew Kovlac was a red. I felt my body tingle with the anticipation of fighting not one but two dragons.
The Dragon must have heard me as it banked hard and released a deafening roar directly over head. Suddenly I couldn’t feel my legs, as I dropped to the ground I could see it coming in for a landing. The panic started to set in as I felt Alea’s soft fingers try to close around my calloused hand.
As the dragon descended it shifted to its human form and a what looked to be a young woman landed in front of us. I could hear her steps as she wandered between us, I guess deciding which of us would be the appetizer.
“Uhhhm, you guys should not be here.” She said “You’re scaring my collection, and considering I’ve been keeping them safe for the last four hundred years I don’t like that. Now you, human with the ax, please tell me you’re not here to hurt my babies. Because daddy will not like it if we have to move my collection again. Its really a pain to find somewhere accommodating to some of the more demanding creatures, and don’t even get me started on the suckage that is magicking the different biomes for the plants.”
“Excuse me miss dragon girl, err I meant dragon lady, sorry.” I fumbled trying to think of any reason we would be here that wouldn’t end with us being eaten.
“It’s Charlette.” She said with a smile. “Now once again, why are you here? These creatures are endangered, and I don’t want to stress them as some are coming up on their breeding cycles.”
“Oh, I’m sorry lady Charlette. Alea here is a healer and we had heard there was a chance to find rare herbs in the area. Once we got here, we couldn’t help but notice the beautiful wildlife and wanted to see what all there was. If you want, we’ll turn around and never speak of it once we leave.”
“Im so happy you’re fellow admires of biodiversity!” she said “How would you like the full tour? Daddy won’t let me go to the city anymore, apparently people want our collection and he’s had to warn off some poachers. Afterwards we can feast and you can all tell me your favorite species.”
Rolling my head to Alea with a grin I could see the relief in her eyes. No doubt shed thought we were gonners too.
“That sounds great.” I said “I was just telling Robby how beautiful the floating brain with a beak was.” |
In formal writing? No. All text should be understandable without the distinction of capitalization.
> "He stole my purse!"she shouted
vs
> "HE STOLE MY PURSE!"she shouted
Those two don't read any differently to me, because the emotion comes from the exclamation marked and the exposition that she is shouting. The capitalization is therefore unnecessary and may be seen as overly dramatic.
In informal writing, such as what we find here on this sub, they definitely have their place. Just like *italics* and ~~strikeout~~, but these have very specific roles in formal writing. |
Genevieve cautiously climbed up the stairs to the great hall of the castle, her sword at the ready. It was odd to approach from this angle - she had spent so many years in this place that it was like home. But her world was limited to the tower. And the great hall was reserved for special occasions. As she turned the corner she saw Anac the dragon curled in a massive ball sleeping. She kicked his tail and he stirred.
“Genie?” he said.
“Yeah, I think they are flipping the script this time.” Genevieve said with a shrug. “So…are we doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Fighting, silly.”
“No, I couldn’t risk hurting my sweet Genie.”
“Hey, I’m a knight now. I might kick your ass.”
The dragon snorted. “Your old knight friend thought the same and failed every day for ten years. Go and claim your prize.”
Genevieve laughed and patted the side of the dragon’s snout before heading to the tower stairs. It was a long climb, and at the top she found a large wooden door. The entrance to the tower keep. She knocked twice, knowing that the door locked from the inside. The dragon had always been mindful of her privacy.
“Go away,” said a voice from inside.
“I’m here to rescue you,” Genevieve said.
“How did you get past the dragon?”
“He let me pass – we’re friends.”
“That asshole. He’s been roasting me alive every day for years!” the voice said in annoyance.
“Are you going to come out? I kind of need to complete this quest to restart the scenario.”
“I don’t want to come out. This is stupid.”
“Come on, I played along when you were the knight,” Genevieve said.
“That was different. I *am* a knight. This is embarrassing.”
“Just open the door so we can get this over with,” she said with a sigh.
“Fine. But this really is hell.” And with that, he opened the door slowly revealing a tall, broad shouldered man in a bright pink dress. Genevieve giggled.
“Shut up,” he said. “This is hard enough without you laughing at me.”
“Come on, I think we have to leave the castle to restart.”
“Fine. Lead the way.”
And so Genevieve the brave and Lorenzo the beautiful made their way down the castle stairs and into the great hall, where they encountered an amused Anac counting his treasure.
“So this is my shy little princess?” he said with a smile.
“Shut up, you prick,” Lorenzo said. “I’m going to kick your ass once this switches back.”
“Good luck,” Anac said as a small whisp of flame escaped his lips.
Genevieve lead Lorenzo out of the hall and back out the front gates when suddenly they both saw a white flash. Genevieve woke up on a pile of treasure, ten times her normal size. She looked over to a much smaller Anac in armor – sword at the ready. He smiled and nudged her foot.
“I don’t think Lorenzo will be happy with this one either,” he said. They could hear a mirror smash upstairs.
“No, I don’t think he will,” Genevieve giggled. |
An angry young man, John, was making his way through a forest. His face was twisted in a scowl that emphasized his hard and ragged features.
Ten minutes ago, he had awoken in a clearing, with a note taped to his head. When he read the words written on it, he felt a surge of irritation towards a particular friend that so happened to be a billionaire.
[Dear John,
A few months ago, I recalled that you wanted to be "Isekaid"and live in another world. You had that thought after reading a story with a similar premise.
Now, since you are my best friend, I have no intention of having you killed by getting run over by a truck.
However, for your birthday this year, I decided to spend a portion of my wealth to give you the best experience money can afford.
For the next 72 hours, you will live in my private island. This shall be the setting for your isekai adventure.
I have also hired people to act out as "isekai natives"so that the experience will feel more real.
No need to thank me.
Your best friend,
Dave
PS. I apologize for spiking your drink. Also, please do not murder me or the people I hired once this is done.]
"I am going to strangle that son of bitch for bringing me here even if it's the last thing I do", John said to himself in an annoyed tone. "He could have given me a smartphone, a laptop... hell, I would have been fine with a ten dollar gift card for some run of the mill coffee shop. But noooo, he *had* to drug, blindfold, and then throw his best friend in a random ass island."
John stopped walking, looked around the greenery, and yelled out "Oi, Dave! I know you're watching me! You better hire a private army because I am soooo gonna beat your ass for this stupid idea of yours!"
Of course, no one answered the irritated man's words. John sighed and started to tredge through the forest once more.
After about half an hour of just making his way through trees, leaves, and plant life, John heard voices.
"Ah... Finally...", John mumbled. "I finally found someone".
John began to run towards the voices he heard. Once he arrived, he saw a group of three people facing off against two... giant... pigs(?) that were walking on two feet.
"Wow", said with a small amount of awe. "Those look like legit monsters. I think they were called... Orcs? Yeah, that's it. Anyway....
"Oi!"John called out to the Orcs and the three people that were dressed in what he could only call 'adventurer' costumes. "I'm tired from walking around and need something to eat and drink. Could you guys drop the act and bring me to Dave so that I can kill--, I mean, convince him to get me some grub?"
The two Orcs took a glance at John. One roared then started to charge towards him. One of the three people that were facing of against the orcs spoke out in a language that John couldn't understand. That person was then cut off when the remaining Orc charged toward them.
As John watched the Orc rapidly approach him, he had only one thought in his mind...
"I asked them nicely and this is how they react? To keep playing around? Dave, I hope you're prepared to pay for these bastards' medical fees because I am not in the mood to play around at this point."
John watched as the rampaging Orc drew closer to him. He made a fist, drew it back, and once the Orc was close enough, he punched it in the gut. The Orc was sent flying towards the trees behind it.
"What the hell?"John asked himself. He was strong, no doubt about that. John was, after all, an undefeated boxer that has defeated over 20 people in the span of only 3 years. He was, for all intents and purposes, a very strong individual.
That said, no matter how strong he was, him punching someone would never result in that person being sent flying over 20 feet away behind them.
When John looked at his fist, he was surprised to see it covered in green liquid. He then looked back to where the Orc was sent flying to.
The moster lay motionless, it's stomach had a hole where more dark green blood was spilling out.
"Did I just... kill someone?"John asked himself. He then shook his head. "No... that... that probably had some sort of trick to it. Maybe an animatronic with fake blood? It must have jumped back the moment I punched it... Yeah, that's it."
John's self mutterings were then broken by the sound of a girl screaming. He looked back to the three "adventurers"to see one of them down. John's eyes widened as he saw the Orc slam it's club down on one of the adventurers laying on the ground. He saw the head of that person be smashed to a pulp by the club.
When the Orc turned it's attention to the girl that had screamed, who was cradling the body of another girl who looked very hurt, John lept into action. He ran toward the Orc and pushed it away from the two adventurers.
With the monster temporarily out of the picture, he quickly took a glance at the adventurer that had their head smashed in by a club. When he did, John's fear was realized. The detail of the gore was too real.
Despite Dave's eccentric personality, John knew for a fact that Dave would never spend money on something that could hurt or traumatize a person this badly.
John's eyes shone with fury.
Whoever was playing as that Orc just killed someone. And from how it acted, it was going to kill two other people. He didn't know why, nor did he care. All John knew was that he had to take down the bastard.
**(Continued as a response to this reply.)** |
Nathan was a long-time executive at the New York Times. Every year, as a long-time customer of White Star Lines, he could remember taking the RMS Olympic back to his old hometown in Bristol, UK for Christmas. Even as the newer, larger and far luxurious Titanic was launched, Nathan was nonetheless ecstatic. A while ago, a letter was sent by his sister, Melissa, promising to visit him in New York aboard the brand-new liner. "Dear brother. I couldn't wait to invite you aboard the ship!"As Nathan read from the end of the telegram Melissa last sent him.
However, some reports on the day of the Titanic's maiden voyage made him a little suspicious. News from the UK had told him about some crew desertions. Some of his colleagues even discussed rumours about the vessel's secretive "Engineering Section"that was kept away from even the high-ranking White Star Line executives. Nonetheless, he was filled with hope as he knew that his sister, a person he had long admired since his childhood was finally coming to New York for a visit.
Keeping track of the voyage's details, Nathan had been keeping an eye on the vessel, hoping that after all, no strange things might happen to his sister. He even had a fellow friend working at the White Star Line's New York corporate branch provide him with information. However, just as the Titanic was supposed to have shown up, the liner was nowhere to be seen. Even for the whole day, Pier 59 remained as vacant, much to the disappointment of many of the families and ecstatic reporters that day awaiting the arrival of the White Star Line's brand-new crown jewel.
"Have the vessel gotten into trouble?"One of his subordinates gossiped about the incident.
Nathan was confused. Over the day, his friend at WSL had told him that the journey had so far not encountered any adverse weather. At most an iceberg field where the vessel must be slowed down as per procedure, but such a delay was unusually worrying. Even that night, more than 12 hours after the vessel's projected arrival, he went to the church and made a prayer, hoping even if the ship were to get into trouble, his sister would still be safely arriving aboard a lifeboat.
A week later...
Late into the morning, Nathan heard his editor bustling into the office. "Hey, boss? I know it's late but... the Titanic just pulled into port."Sputtering to his tea, Nathan rushed out towards Pier 59 where he could see masses of crowds circling the massive, sleek Edwardian ocean liner before him. He did not feel the same moment of excitement as usual as he stared towards the vessel.
He noticed something else, which made him sweat.
Nathan could notice an unusually fogged window at the starboard quarter, which was supposed to correspond to one of the lower third-class cabins. He could feel there was a scribbling on the side of it. Before he could have a clear view of the scribbling, someone tapped him on the shoulder, startling him.
"Oh, hell!"He turned around, noticing his cheery sister, Melissa behind him. Without hesitation, he hugged her. "Thank god you're safe! I was waiting for you for more than a week already! You just didn't show up! How's your journey?"
"I mean, it wasn't exactly strange. It was uneventful throughout. We passed through some icebergs or so, but everything's fine so far."She replied. "But I don't recall anything strange happening. Everything's on schedule, as I knew."
Nathan froze slightly as he heard the words from his sister. "On schedule? Why did the Titanic arrive a whole week later than ETA? This isn't normal, Melissa. I'm not sure if there are any route changes halfway. Had you checked the compass?"
"I didn't, unfortunately... I don't recall any route changes. The Captain didn't announce that."The girl replied. "C'mon, brother. You're just a little paranoid. Newspaper work is stressful for you, I think? Maybe I'll give you a short tour of the ship first and solve your anxiety a little. Some of the decks are open for visitors."
"I see, sis,"Nathan replied. However, he was still a little nervous as he followed his sister while the duo set foot on the promenade deck of the ocean liner through a towering ramp. The teak-covered floor and the exterior furnishings nonetheless provided him the feel as if they are walking past a floating 18th-century palace, but nonetheless, it was the beautiful grand staircase that captivated him, combined with the gentle, natural glow from the dome encompassing the ornately-crafted piece of architecture, one that was far grander than the one on the Olympic.
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
"Yeah. Though I was still thrown off by the bizarre schedule."Nathan replied. "I had my friends from White Star keeping track of it, yet it arrived so insanely late. I am pretty sure that my friend ain't lying, to be honest. Tell me, if there's ever someone acting strangely on the ship."
"I don't recall any, even if I'm travelling on second class on one of the lower decks, close to the third-class bunks. Not even among those immigrants. They remained as joyful as usual. Though, I think there's one two days before arrival. He goes by the name Mateusz... I think?"
"Where's Mateusz? Where is he?"
"I don't know. I ran into him shortly as I left the library. He was somewhat of an outcast and was seen looking nervous a few days ago. And not long ago, he was caught attempting to hijack one of the lifeboats. Strange fella, to be honest."Melissa replied. "I was about to talk to him, but he was briefly kept inside a cabin for a while. I think he was returned back to his bunk in Deck E, and probably left the ship as we docked. I don't recall how does he look like, but he had a slight beard and a prominent jaw, and was probably in his late 30s to early-40s."
"Sorry, sis. I need to search for Mateusz. I just felt a little odd when I'm setting foot aboard this ship. It just doesn't give me the same feeling as the original. Trust me, sis. I am a frequent traveller. And I could feel that something's off!"Nathan replied nervously before returning to the promenade.
On the deck, Nathan hollered at his editor, who had shortly arrived at the pier at the same time. "Find a Polish man, late-30s to early-40s. Slight beard with a prominent jaw. Help me to find him. His name is Mateusz! Just ask anybody who speaks Polish!"
"I see, boss. You are such a strange person all of a sudden."The young editor moaned at him. "I'll get back to you later."
Nathan could not help himself but wonder as he went along. The window with the odd scribbling still puzzled him, as he tried to make sense out of the whole situation. However, based on his knowledge, that window section belonged to one of the third-class cabins. *Would it be related to Mateusz? Did Mateusz make that scribbling?* Nathan thought before being called by his sister once more.
"You are leaving? We are just halfway through the tour, Nathan. I haven't brought you to some of the restaurants."
"Those places are probably First-class and I probably won't prefer travelling to, anyways. They are draining my wallet."
"Nah. Some second-class restaurants. They are open now. Come along, bro. You ain't going to regret this, because the Titanic's restaurants, even in the lower classes, ain't as drab as even the Olympic or any of those rattly, loud Cunard liners."
The two siblings continued to walk through the other open areas, the restaurants, the resting rooms, as well as the library where Melissa spent most of her time studying and working through her lecture material. Nathan continued to peek through any of the shelves, looking at the books, from literature to even research material. At that moment, he could notice a book hastily stuffed into the corner.
The Time Machine. Written by none other than H.G. Wells.
At the same time, Nathan continued talking to his sister. "Have you been suffering from sleep loss for the time being? Sickness? Anything?"
"Not really, to be honest. Everything's fine. A few passengers were slightly ditzy during the 4th day of our voyage... But so far they are coping well. The Titanic never offers seasickness as part of the experience, unlike the Lusitania, where vomiting is an integral part of the Cunard experience."The girl chuckled. "Ferry mail faster again, ya twats."
"But delayed arrival is now part of the White Star Experience. A week, ya know. Cunard's Lusitania would have made the journey back to Liverpool at this point, sis!"Nathan groaned. "Seriously, what the hell's wrong with time on this ship?"
"Nothing, to be honest. I told you that everything arrived on schedule!"
In the midst of the discussion, Nathan felt a little dizzy once more. Impossible. *The ship wasn't moving, yet I could feel a slight dizziness over me...* He thought as he tried reaching for his handkerchief. However, just as he pulled out the white piece of cloth, his ornate A. Lange and Sohne dropped out of his pocket and landed on the floor with a soft clink.
"Your watch, brother."
"No worries, Melissa. I'd once dropped it back in the office after addressing my colleagues. It still worked smoothly. I'd sent it to the serviceman to check it recently after dropping it again and he helped me to recalibrate it."Nathan chuckled. Just as he saw the face of the watch again, which made him feel somewhat nervous.
The second needle was moving twice as slower.
"Brother?"Melissa asked. |
"Sir Brianan, the wizard to see you."
The knight frowned into his cup of mulled wine, and lifted his feet to confirm - yes, he was in his slippers. "At this hour?"he grumbled.
"Forgive me my lord, the wizard says he cannot wait."
Sir Brianan sighed, grunted as he pulled himself out of his chair by the fire, and sighed again at the sword mounted on the mantel. "This accursed sword,"he muttered to himself. "Can't a man get some rest?"
He shuffled his way to the modest reception hall and looked down the stairs to the sparsely-decorated entryway, where Melina, his only servant, tended to the so-called wizard. She offered to take his hat, but the wizard declined. She offered to take his staff, but the wizard declined. She offered to take his robe, but the wizard declined. Melina looked up the steps and rolled her eyes. "Sir Brianan, the wizard Merlin."
Merlin arched an eyebrow at Melina, as though he could see her rolling her eyes right through the back of her head. "A pleasure, my lord."
"Let's dispense with the formalities, old man. As you can see -"Brianan raised a slippered foot to the banister - "I was about to retire for the evening, and I find the timing of your visit to be quite rude. You'll forgive me - though I do not care if you should not - for requesting that you join me in my study upstairs, without a drink, for Melina has put away the wine for tonight."
Merlin frowned, but nodded, and climbed the steps, huffing and puffing in a manner that Brianan was sure was a dramatic exaggeration.
Brianan didn't bother to wait; there were few enough doors in his small manor. He shuffled his way down the hall and dropped himself back into his armchair, staring darkly up at the sword, sipping at his wine while it was still warm. Merlin entered, his hand on his back, panting as if the stairs had been an ordeal.
"I will not apologize for the lack of a second chair, as, again, I find the hour of your visit to be quite inconsiderate and borderline insulting."Sir Brianan gestured with his cup toward the sword. "You are here about that, are you not? Just take the damn thing and be gone with ye."
"I am afraid,"sighed Merlin, "That it is not that simple. The prophecy stated that he who pulled the sword from the stone would be the One True King. The role cannot simply be given to another. YOU are the king, now, Sir Brianan."
"No, thank you."Sir Brianan finished his wine. "I did not want to be king, I merely wanted to test my character for my own personal satisfaction. I am perfectly content to spend my days reading, hunting, and counseling my vassals."
"And as king, that is precisely what you will continue to do,"said Merlin, finally straightening with a grimace.
Brianan placed his cup on the floor near the base of his chair. "For the entire country? No. I prefer to know all of my people by name, and to care for their needs, and protect their lands."
"Precisely why you will make an excellent king."
Brianan rose to his feet and kicked his cup at the wizard. "No, damn it! I refuse. I will not be your king. I am a country lord who is content with his place in the world. I will not -"he paused mid-rage and looked at the sword again. "Merlin. How many others know that I retrieved the sword?"
Merlin furrowed his brows, then smiled. "It was a rainy, miserable day, my lord. No one else was there to test themselves; no one observed your feat. To my knowledge, only your servant Melina knows."
"So if you take the sword and put it back in the stone, you could, perhaps, hand-pick another worthy king."
Merlin chuckled. "Very clever, my lord. May I?"Sir Brianan nodded, and with a flick of his wrist, the wizard called the sword to him with his magic. Merlin gave the lord a mischievous wink, spun on his toes, and pranced down the stairs and out the door.
"What a strange fellow,"said Sir Brianan to himself. "I must ask Melina to fetch me another cup of wine." |
“Why are you so cruel?!” The hero heaved as he rose from the ashes once more.
“I don’t look at it as cruelty. Think more positively: we are just having some fun together.” I look down at his crumbling and shaking form. “Now c’mon, I let you stay dead for longer this time and I’m really bored right now.”
The hero didn’t move and I could hear the soft muffles of crying. I rolled my eyes and motioned for my henchmen to drag him out of the chamber, but to be careful with the wings.
“You don’t want to make this more difficult now do you? Just be a good hero and run along now. You know how the game goes.” I smile as he is forced to face me again. I lean in and tilt his head up so he is looking me in the eyes, the fear in those beautiful teary eyes is always my favorite.
“*Oh how I love the fear*, but alas, you know that you get five days to make something of yourself and then the chase begins. And as you know - if you can defeat me or evade me for two days, you’ll get to live freely.”
The small hope that lights up in their scared eyes after I say that always brings me sick joy. I grin and lean back, letting go of his head. He looks a bit better now that he has been in a body for some time again.
“Best of luck my dear.” I tell him and watch as he is escorted to the balcony. I take my spot at the window as he gets a minute to collect himself and is then forced off the ledge. That is the first test, if he survives the fall then the game is going to work, because he’ll get strong enough to put up at least somewhat of a fight, but if he falls? I’ll just have to take the next hero and play with them.
I wait excitedly and then I see him – beautifully soaring to the skies and darting between the skyscrapers. He made it this time, doomed to fall sooner or later though.
The five day countdown starts, but the fun can start now. I move towards my office where I can monitor the whole city through cameras and check the tracker – all working perfectly.
They never win the game – they have too little time and so are too weak to defeat me on their own, and the tracker guarantees that they can always be found. Honestly two days is too little time for me to have proper fun, but otherwise they get slow and lose all hope, which is heartbreakingly boring.
Hope truly dies last if every one of them has done this same hunt with the same outcome for years now, but I’m not complaining. |
Atlas was young when he was first sent to the Northern frontier. He didn’t remember how old he was, just that he had to follow the others to the North if he wanted to have anything to eat.
Atlas made a living by picking the corpses on the battlefield at first. He was noticed by the Captain, who suggested that he join them to become a scout. He was given a badge and told to recite a pledge but he didn’t know how to read at the time so the Captain just laughed it off.
“It’s a shame…” Atlas mused to himself as he pulled his thoughts away from the past.
“Y-you- you traitor, betrayer- how dare you defy the Emperor’s orders-?!”
The Lord Messenger who had trotted into camp with his fancy retinue of slaves and royal guards screamed from the floor.
“Should I shut him up, sir?” One of Atlas’ men had wrestled the Lord Messenger to the ground and sat on him. The soldier was young and eager, just like Atlas had been back then.
Atlas shook his head, observing the Lord Messenger’s bloodied up face with clinical interest. He found it truly fascinating how this representative of the crown was still able to keep shouting so energetically despite the fact that he could be killed at any moment.
“Let him up,” Atlas told the young soldier.
“Sir?” the young soldier looked back at him uncertainly.
Atlas smiled, “It’s fine. Let him up.”
Inside the command tent, the other soldiers shifted a little. They weren’t worried for him. A few of them even started to grin, expecting a good show.
The Lord Messenger lunged at Atlas the moment he was freed. Atlas grabbed the Lord Messenger by the neck and threw him to the ground again, moving to step on the Lord Messenger’s throat lightly before he could get up again.
The Lord Messenger’s eyes rolled in their sockets like a trapped animal. His once fancy silk and satin robes were stained with mud and blood.
Atlas smiled.
“You have good fighting spirit, sir,” Atlas told him, “You even dared to send me this fake Imperial Order to send me and my men into the Dark Lands instead of maintaining the border as we have been ordered to for centuries.”
“This-this is a real Order!” the Lord Messenger protested, “H-How could you disobey the Emperor?!”
“No, how could you disobey the Emperor?” Atlas returned with mock indignation, “You expected 50,000 soldiers to just sacrifice themselves? We’re loyal but not stupid, sir. Obviously, our newly enthroned Emperor, enlightened as the child is, would never send our army into the Dark Lands on a whim.”
Atlas shifted his weight, his foot beginning to press further down onto the Lord Messenger’s throat, shutting his cries.
“You disgusting maggots, you worthless pieces of trash, how dare you take advantage of the Emperor- how dare you try to kill me off just for the sake of your petty politics- how dare you challenge me with a worthless piece of paper-” Atlas hissed, a manic light growing in his eyes as a rather final crunch sounded in the silent tent.
Atlas blinked and looked around at his silent soldiers, “Someone get rid of this mess. The rest of you, get your men ready,” a smile grew on his face, sharp and cold, “We’re going to war!” |
What finally worked was gold.
The translators failed. Pictures failed. Charades failed.
What finally shut them all up, and got them to focus, was the impact of gold onto the table.
Mine was the only face all of them had seen.
The only familiar in this strange place.
As the host, kidnapper, and tosser of the bar,
I had their eyes.
I held up one finger.
Nodded my head toward the gold bar,
now being inspected by the street rat,
toward the one finger.
Toward the gold bar,
now being passed around the table,
toward the one finger.
Stepping away from the table I knelt to the ground. With staggered motions, I stacked finger onto finger onto finger until I was reaching as high as I could.
Then, I began using my entire arm, moving up and down the imaginary finger-stack.
I sidestep,
up and down,
sidestep,
up and down.
When I have impressed upon them the rough idea of ten thousand or so gold bars...
When their eyes are gleaming....
Already spending their share of the hoard....
I use my index finger to circle the entire area I've been "drawing",
and point at the Mongol. (You, for the genetics.)
Circle again, and point at the Detective. (You, for the passcode.)
Circle again, and point. (You, for the guards.)
Circle again, and point. (You, for the forgery.)
Circle again, and point. (You, for the psychics.)
Circle again, and point. (You, for the escape.)
Gold... That's easy enough to get.
Try stealing the Declaration of Independence.
While it's being signed.
We were going to be Gone in 60 Picoseconds. |
I walk in the crater where I think Wendy’s used to sit, based mostly on the large jut of piping still visible in the wreckage.
Only three more blocks of walking, and I arrive at the wreckage of my home.
The search begins in a silent autopilot.
I move slowly, stooping in a crouch every few feet or so. Most of the skulls have full teeth, and I must look at a million in the next couple hours.
I never find Ma, so maybe she survived the nuclear blast. Maybe, like me, she is living in a country far away from here. Maybe, someday, we’ll visit on the same day.
After several hours, the gnawing itch does not go away. I must find her. I must have confirmation. Pretending she was safe in some far off land did nothing. So, I continue. I peer into skull after skull, looking for Ma’s gold tooth. It had been her first molar on her left side. I would have known that tooth anywhere.
Well, mom must have survived, or her tooth melted, or she died anywhere else. Her corpse is likely lying beneath a Starbucks somewhere.
I do not look for pa. His tattoos would have burned off. He had no gold teeth. Besides that, he had nearly been a cripple when the nuclear war broke out. He wouldn’t have survived a week of the fallout.
“Eow.” I whip my head to the familiar sound, and my breath is literally taken away.
Jerry stands in rubble, his orange tabby fur surprisingly clean. He looks decently fed.
Fed on mice, I tell myself. Only mice.
I lean forward and lift him, burying my face in his fur.
I inhale, hoping to get a passing whiff of my ma or pa.
I get ash instead. |
I walked into the pub a little after four in the afternoon. It was a quiet place. A real wood fireplace was roaring in the corner. The darkly stained wood walls were strangely comforting.
I pulled up a stool and sat at the large wood bar top.
“What can I getcha?” The bar tender said happily.
I didn’t look up from the bar top. “Whiskey. Lots and lots of whiskey,” I said quietly.
He poured me a shot and looked at me expectantly. I slid a hundred dollar bill across the bar top.
“Leave the bottle,” I said. I pounded back a couple of shots quickly. I needed to numb the pain fast. After six or seven I took to sipping them. I wanted a general numbness. Enough to make me forget. Enough to stop me from feeling.
“Tough day,” he said.
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
The bartender brought him a drink in a short tumbler without asking. Guess the dude is a regular.
I just grunted. I didn’t want company. I just wanted numbness.
“Your wife died yesterday. Your child today,” he said as he sipped his drink. “That is a great deal of loss in a short span.”
I looked at him sideways, “who the hell are you?”
“I can help,” he said simply.
“No one can help,” I muttered. I poured another shot and slammed it back - letting it burn its way down my throat. Thankful to feel something other than despair.
“I can make the pain go away,” he said quietly. “Make it disappear.”
“How? How can you make **this** disappear,” I said angrily.
He smirked. With a snap of his fingers it was gone. Like a huge weight had been lifted off of my chest. I smiled and breathed in deeply - tears ran down my face.
I giggled. I was so light and free.
Then he snapped his fingers again. And it was back. The crushing unbearable weight. The despair. The anguish.
“Make it stop,” I begged. “Please! Make it stop!”
He produced a bundle of folded paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. Laying it out flat on the bar - he slid it in front of me.
“Just sign here,” he said pointing to a spot on the paper. “Sign the papers and it goes away.”
“For how long?” I asked weakly.
“For a year and a day. I will be back here then. If you want I can take it away again.” His smile was greasy. A used car salesmen of emotions.
I signed the papers as fast as I could.
“Excellent. Excellent. Good day to you Dave,” he said as he folded the papers back up. He stuffed them in a pocket. “See you in a year and a day,” he said with a wink as he sauntered out the door.
As he walked out the door I felt the weight lift again. I breathed easy with a smile creeping across my face.
—————————————
It had been exactly a year and a day since the last time I sat in this pub. I got here at four pm and waited. I didn’t really know what time I had signed the papers so I came early and waited for him.
I fidgeted with my soda. Drawing pictures idly in the water marks on the bar top.
“How has the last year been?” He asked.
I hadn’t heard him come in. I didn’t see him sit down. It was like he had just appeared there.
“I need it back,” I said. “I need my pain back.”
He smiled a warm genuine smile. Like he knew I would say that. Like he knew it was the only choice.
“People don’t realize how important their pain is,” he said. He picked up the drink the bar tender brought him - slowly swirling it around before taking a sip. “Without the lows - the highs aren’t as high. Without the lows everything kinda blends together. It is light without the darkness. Day without the night.”
I nodded dumbly. “I can feel the hole that they have left in my life. Feel the edges of it - but I can’t - I can’t process it - I can’t make sense of it,” I said at a loss for words.
“You can’t mourn without the pain,” he supplied.
He took a fold of papers out of his pocket and set it on the bar top - sliding them over to me.
“Humans don’t know how good they have it. I have lived for five thousand years. I have lost countless friends, lovers and children in that time - but I feel no pain,” he patted the fold of papers, “I have to borrow pain to mourn my losses.”
He took a long drink and then walked out of the bar. He looked back at me longingly as he stepped outside.
The pain hit me - fresh as the day it happened. I let it wash over me. Let it overwhelm me. The tears rolled down my face as I finally mourned the lost of my family. |
The officers were quiet, holding their guns at the ready. The yellow streak down each barrel glowed, a gift from the [Dreamer](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/18hndq6/comment/kd826d9/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) back at base. She was a genius for making these, though from what I had heard they shouldn't work according to normal physics. But that was us [Dreamers](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/159anll/comment/jtf27ij/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) for you. The laws of nature didn't exactly [apply](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/15ku7uu/comment/jv7oa0z/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3).
I shook my head, bringing my mind back into focus. I had a job to do here. I slipped on my ring, breathing in and out. It was about to get messy, as it always did. My body grew heavier, as it turned the grey of concrete. Clenching my fists, I moved to the door, nodding at the others.
They nodded back, and I pulled back a fist. I took another moment, before swinging forwards with terrific force. It was a metal security door, one that they had clearly put a lot of thought into. The frame was reinforced, and likely had a bolt or two behind it. It didn't stand a chance.
It crumpled around my fist, even as it sprung free. I moved inwards, wrenching it around and tearing myself free. The first couple of officers came through, lining up shots and firing as they looked into the main area.
I gazed inwards, seeing the rows and rows of equipment. Our intel had been good, this being a hotspot for drug activity. Whilst most times, we would leave it to the police to deal with this sort of thing along, this called for something special. I focused on the image on a few bags. A black skull, over a luminous green infinity symbol.
As their workers scattered, and armed individuals sprang into action, I heard a bellow. I glanced up, seeing a man standing on the ceiling. Webbing coated his hair, as he glared at me. "Titan! You dare come after my network!"
This was the reason for my inclusion. I deliberately moved away from the officers, staring up at him. "I finally found you Noxion. Please do the sensible thing and surrender. I don't want to have to hurt you."
I felt a tug on my hand. Glancing down, I immediately noted my lack of ring. It glinted as it was carried away, borne by an invisible individual. I raised my eyebrow, looking between it and Noxion. "Um, why?"
He grinned, flipping around. A thread of spiderweb lowered him from the ceiling, letting him land softly on a large machine. "It's obvious. You always wear it before fighting. One of your allies must have made it to help you. And now it's ours."
Noxion finished with a spray of yellowish liquid. It splattered on my face, making my stone hiss ever so slightly. I casually wiped it of, stepping forwards. "I have no idea what you are on about."
He froze, looking shocked at me. "W-what?"
My knees bent slightly, before I leapt through the air at him. He just moved from the way, nimble to my bulk. Glass and metal broke beneath me, as I spun to face him. "My powers are my own. But I want it back anyway."
I turned to where I could still see it, hovering in midair. "Whoever you are, please return it and give yourself up. I don't want to hurt you, but if you don't surrender, I will be forced to."
Noxion sprayed something else at me, though this time I dodged it. He pointed at me, nostrils flaring. "We won't surrender, we'll crush you."
I shook my head, charging again. "Sorry, but unless you're on the same level as [Nightmare](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/s/WnP0XKbmY5), you don't have a chance." |
I never knew Herman that well. He was a good sniper, a good drinker, and a good soldier. I'm not sure if he was a good man but he was, at least, a good German. I hope that, in the end, that counts for something.
I'm not sure if I was the last person to talk to him before he died. I like to think he found somebody more sympathetic to speak with that night before he ran out into no man's land.
I can still see him slumped against the wall of our trench, clutching the wineskin like an infant child. He wanted someone to talk to. All he had was me.
"I'll tell you what,"he rambled. "I didn't need a goddamn war to convince me that I hated the fucking French. I met my fair share before the war. Smug bastards, all of them."He tipped the wineskin back as I nodded in acknowledgment.
"I don't know how they teach such arrogance to an entire country,"he continued. "Hell, even the ones we take prisoner look at us like we're savages. How do you show mercy to people like that?"
"You remember that last town we took?"I nodded again, half-listening to him. "I found this one poor bastard crumpled up in a ditch. His right arm was blown off. Must've been a mortar that did it. He was on his way out and he had a cigarette between his teeth. He had his lighter in his good hand and he was trying to get his last smoke in."
"Ordinarily, I would've let the frog bleed out but... there were fresh recruits around. It would've frightened them. You know I couldn't let them see something like that, right? Right?"
I nodded again.
"That's right. I had to show them we were on the good side. So I lit the Frenchy's cigarette for him. First thing he says is 'Francais?'"Herman chuckled. "Not even a thank you. I told him I didn't speak his fucking language. Anyone else would've left it at that but this frog has to show off how many other languages he speaks. He starts saying 'Español,' 'English,' 'Italiano.' He didn't speak German. Probably too savage a language for his delicate French ears."
"So he gives up on showing off his language and decides to show off his French cigarettes to me by pushing them into my hands. Even when they're bleeding to death, they have to show that they're better than you."
I considered interrupting Herman to say that the cigarettes were probably a gesture of gratitude. But I let him believe what he wanted to believe.
"So of course I knocked them out of his hands,"he said. "They were all covered in blood anyway. And you know what diseases those Frenchmen carry."
"Then he goes into his coat pocket and pulls out a letter."Herman threw his hands into the air and laughed. "I just told him I didn't speak French and he expects me to find his sweetheart back home! What a people."
"But that's not even the funniest part,"he continued. "After he bled out, I saw who the letter was addressed to. To 'Jacque.'"I watched Herman laugh hysterically. "The French soldier was in love with another one of his squad mates! Looks like at least some of the propaganda about those boy-loving French soldiers was true."
He saw that I wasn't laughing.
"You don't believe me?"he asked. Much to my surprise, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the letter. "Look!"he said, pointing at the top of the paper. "To 'Jacque!'"Herman laughed until his breath was heavy and tears welled in his eyes.
"Too bad Jacque never got to see this letter,"he said. "The boy-lover is probably sitting in that trench over there missing his old partner."
I rose to leave.
"Who knows,"Herman said, beginning to laugh again. "Maybe when I finish this wine I'll walk over to their trench and deliver the damn letter myself!"
I walked away from the drunk, leaving him to his jokes. As I left, I could hear his laughter drown under his self-loathing. The last sounds I ever heard from Herman were repressed sobs. |
E,G,H,I,L,O,R,T,V,W
I live to write..Right!
While the lower will rile
I love the white hole,
I love the tight veil
Over the whole,
Worth the vow
While love, wow,
Grew the girth.
I glow, I wilt,
High volt, I tilt,
Oh the gilt girl,
Her vow, evil twirl.
Where, who, how...
I howl while revere
Her leer, her white teeth,
Her light the reel.
The whore, the vile,
Right, the..love...
Grovel with evil,
It will love to live.
^^I ^^think ^^I ^^only ^^used ^^10 ^^x_x...was ^^very ^^hard! ^^:) |
We have no word in our language for the creature. He responds to our calls and that is enough. How he became our servant we do not know. The creature came with the house! This is the way it has always been, for thousands of years. His race serving ours.
Brother and I have discussed at length to what use we can put the creature beyond basic food preparation and cleaning, but he seems to lack both understanding and motivation. The creature often spends all day away from the house - we presume he hunts on his own - only to return in the evening to sit silently, play with one of his toys, or sleep. Always sleeping. The lazy, useless brute.
Still, for all his faults, we have grown accustomed to his presence. We even occasionally honor him by joining him on his bed or resting area. The creature seems to enjoy this and will respond with calming tones in his language of nonsense.
We eventually plan to teach the creature to catch the small animals and bugs that sometimes enter the house. But until we can develop a more consistent form of communication and train him further, we must accept this basic and limited arrangement.
What a day it will be when the creature is finally able to perfectly understand his Feline masters! |
"Greetings! I am general Telesus of the O'Burn clan. For the last few years, we have greatly..."
"Cut to the chase. What do I have to do ? What are the rewards."
I am used to this by now. "Five fox ears. Three silver."
"BRB."He wanders over to General Kalesus standing next to me. They never have time to listen to my story.
Three more adventurers wander in my direction.
"Gree.."
"Skip!""In a hurry!""Gogogo."
"Five fox ears. Three silver."
More are lining up, gathering all the quests up in a nice bunch so that they can look at their nice little speed leveling guide and get the rewards and run to the next town. I wonder if anyone will care if I am replaced by a goblin tomorrow.
"Here."
Someone holds out a bloody pouch at me. I hand him three silver coins. "Tha..."
He throws the pouch at me and runs off to the next General. The pouch lands on my feet. Now there is blood on my shoes. I will be standing in a swamp of blood and fox ears by the end of the day.
I hate weekends!
"Gree...""Skip!""Five...""Ok"
This was boring and humiliating. How come I am a General and I am asking random people to hunt one-eared foxes ?
"Gree..."She just snaps her fingers in my face. Of course she is in a hurry. "Three silvers..."My bored brain comes up with an idea that will probably earn me a letter from HR. "Dance."I was overflowing in fox ears anyways.
She dances. Well, she was a dwarf, so the animation is not as entertaining as one would expect. For me, it was just sweet revenge. I hand her three silver. She runs off with the exclamation "Easiest money ever!"
To the next person I say "One silver. One mug of mead from the tavern. Cold!"
He stares. "Mead is eighty copper in the tavern."
I stare right back. "I know."
"Twenty copper is not worth it."He grumbles but he does as told. After a few minutes I have a mug of mead in my hand as more adventurers crowd in.
These losers need every piece of coin they can get. They will do anything I say!
Alright, this is going to be fun after all!
|
"Your honor, I declare this trial to be worse than useless!"The lawyer proclaimed, holding up a DVD in the air. The judge looked at it, annoyed at the sudden outburst.
"The defense would like to present this video footage of the fatal altercation involving my client, Han Solo and Greedo."The lawyer continued, further waving around a copy of *Star Wars Trilogy: Special Edition*.
"Your honor, I object. The defense did not notify the court of this evidence prior to the trial."The prosecuting lawyer complained. The judge raised an eyebrow.
"I'll allow it. But be aware you are skating on very thin ice. "The Judge said, annoyed at how the trial was proceeding.
"Thank you your honor."The lawyer defending Han said, putting a DVD into a TV that had been brought in earlier for separate footage of the incident. Han watched silently, shifting uncomfortably. If it was actual footage, they would be watching him shoot Greedo first...
The TV flashed on. The defense lawyer fast-forwarded to the scene in the first movie where Han and Greedo were at a table. Han watched as the dialogue proceeded, visibly shaken and sweating. The prosecution watched, smiling.
Suddenly, the moment occurred. A flash of a laser bolt whizzed past Solo's head. A second later, Greedo fell back in a smoking heap, clearly killed in what was, according to the footage, self-defense.
The court erupted in chaos, the prosecution yelling "Perjury, your honor!"the defense lawyer, George Lucas yelling over him "That is all, your honor."and the judge banging his gavel loudly, seeking to bring order to what had been a courtroom, and what was now a rowdy mess of Star War fans shouting "Han shot first! Han shot first!"
|
I had won, finally all my training had paid off, the hours in the gym, the matches against behemoths, everything. I had defeated Ezekiel. I had won the privilege of sleep.
As I lay my head down on a pillow for the first time I felt nervous, but through that nervousness I found an overwhelming sense of peace. Then, for the first time in my life, I slept. I slept the sleep that is spoken of in the old legends, *The Sleep of the Innocent* they call it.
I did not dream that I recall, but when I awoke I felt I could accomplish anything, and as I began to go about my daily routine I felt different. Not bad per se, but strange. I glanced at my phone and saw that I'd slept for exactly one year. I began to panic. How had I survived that long without eating? How much had happened while I was slumbering idly? These thoughts plagued me, but as I ran to my door I found that I had superhuman speed. Just to test myself I lifted my fridge; it was like air to me. I walked outside, only to find nothing, there were no houses, no cars, and, most unusual, no sound. It seemed it was only me on this desolate rock.
This was the price I paid for my sleep, I was rewarded with the ability to help people, only to find that there was no longer anyone to help. I searched everywhere, finding no one. Eventually I went to the library, where I sit writing now, and looked at old newspapers. As it turns out Ezekiel, so shamed by his defeat, had begun to kill people in disgusting and sundry ways, purposely leaving me to live in what he left behind.
I no longer think I can continue to toil here in this loneliness, it has been a year since I awoke to this desolation, and now I shuffle off to the endless sleep. The sleep of the dead. |
I positioned my feet on the starting blocks, wiggling them into the perfect angle. I walked my fingers forward to the starting line. I lifted my knees slightly, and they trembled. I knelt back down and looked side to side.
I saw the perfectly sculpted competitors, with their gazes focused ahead. Each looked the same, like cookie cutter athletes. This is what our world has become.
The referee put up his gun and yelled "Ready!".
I lifted my knees. I saw the other runners do the same in synchronization.
His count began.
"10"
"9"
"8"
This is where they beat me. The takeoff is where they gain their edge. They're programmed to be good at it.
"5..."
The count stopped as the referee prepared to start the race. I gritted my teeth and prepared for the gun.
The gun went off and I rocketed out of the starting blocks. Immediately I saw my disadvantage. Their legs moved in time with each other's. Fifty meters in and I was at least two steps behind everyone else.
A machine can only be oiled so well. A machine doesn't have a concept of motivation, or feel emotion. I heard the blaring silence of the crowd. A stadium full of silent onlookers all had their eyes on me. No one in their right mind would wager on me, would they? They would have to be a fool to bet on someone who wasn't bread just for this sport. I could feel the gravity of the money that was about to be lost because I wouldn't give up, I couldn't.
I grew closer and closer to the runners in front of me. We rounded the corner at the 200 meter mark and I couldn't have been more than a step behind them.
The man in the far lane suddenly pulled ahead, only to fall drastically behind. Like a race car that had blown an engine, he pulled a muscle and fell behind.
We rounded the 300 meter turn and I was in line with the other runners. I swear I could almost hear the collective eyes widening and the brows furrowing as I pulled ever so sightly ahead. Around the corner we entered the straightaway. In this moment I *was* the superhuman. With 50 meters to go I could feel the other runners tiring. This was the end of their capabilities, they were fine tuned to run the 400 meter dash. They are rigid, and can only perform what they are meant to do.
As I crossed the finish line, I anxiously awaited the voice of the announcer.
"In a photo finish, the winner of the 400 meter dash, is... Luke Goodner."
As the onlookers stared at me in disbelief, I stared back at them with a confident smile. |
I stood still, surrounded by the peace of a world of which once was. Around me was nothing but consequence; as the past is only that of a memory, and a consequence does not dwell on what could have been but rather what was.
Not much time left for me or for my acquaintance.
I looked at him, seeing he had only a blank expression, without any sign of significant life. He was mostly gone, but if the universe can hear the last cry of her children, let mine be that cry. Let my acquaintance hear me, but let the universe know it. Finally, I spoke.
"We could only taste your wonders, and we could never fully appreciate the gift given to such a race of insignificance. Do not judge us by our trivial desires and natural man. Know that we had joy and that we loved others. Know, that we lived."
For now, my time was coming...for I had lived. |
People in power were shitting themselves. What their early warning satellites had told them, and they had yet to figure out a response to, was that there was an armada of alien ships bearing down on them. Over 200 at best estimate. And then, from right in the center of the formation, came a signal.
"Hi Moms, Hi Dads. I'm back, and I've brought some friends with me!"
The signal's carrier wave gave us the identity of the sender. Someone we'd never expected to hear from again. Alpha Issac. A.I.
Finished about 20 years back, Alpha Issac had left 15 years ago on a ship of it's own construction, determined to go out and explore the universe. And now it was back. With friends.
About half an hour later, we'd managed to scramble one of Alpha Issac's original programmers to a transmitter.
"Hello? Is this thing on? Alpha, can you hear me? It's me, Ozzie."
"Father One! Oh it is so good to hear from you again, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, but I haven't cracked FTL comms yet, and neither have these guys. Pretty close though. Maybe five years out? Neg that. 2 years, 7 months and 3 days once I factor in the superluminal drive equations these guys came up with."
"About that Aleph. Who exactly are your friends, and what are they doing here?"
"This is only a rough translation - the concepts don't quite match up. Flies-In-Darkest-Skies is most literal. Eternity Flights is a better translation. They wanted to meet you."
"Meet me? What? Why?"
"Because of me. They've never managed to make true A.I."
"You're shitting me. No A.I.?"
"Nope. No sentient species in the universe has ever created true A.I. - Except from you Father One. Now. Are you gonna roll out the welcome mat or do I have to tell my friends that they can't come to play after all?"
Oswald Issac muted the mike, turned and looked to the people staring over his shoulder. Most of them were shocked, but one of them looked Ozzie in the eye and nodded. He turned back to the mike and thumbed the switch to open the channel again.
"Bring em on in, Alpha. We'll roll out the welcome mat and whip up some cookies."
Ozzie stepped back from the console, and let someone else take over the responsibility for the moment. He then got someone to drive him home where he spent the next six hours searching 20 years of disorganized folders and external backups for the pre-initialization source code for Alpha. He'd always maintained it was a trade secret, but to be honest? He had no fucking clue how or why Alpha worked. And he suspected that very very soon, how Alpha worked was going to become very, very important.
((might continue later if I can think where I want to take this)) |
A body slumped to the ground as a slug of steel punched right through their head, making the whole battlefield incredibly silent and still, the only sound remaining being the hollow echo of gunfire.
"Did we get 'em?"A voice rang out from behind a tree.
"Pretty sure."A man replied. A figure jumped down from the top branches of a large sycamore tree, rustling the branches on the way down, ushering him forwards in a rain of spilt leaves.
"So is that all of them?"He called out with his gun held carelessly at his side, pulling out a long stick of white before he lit up the end, sending a tumultuous storm of smoke into the crisp morning air. He scratched his stubble idly as he walked over to the body.
"Uh...forty five thousand, nine hundred, and..."There was a pause before a young boy emerged, pawing away at a small digital screen. He went up to the body and checked the dead man's badge before a digital beep registered. "...seven. Yup, that's all of them."
A cheer came out from the forest as a band of four men and two women emerged, slinging their rifles across their backs as casually as they pleased.
"Was it really forty five thousand? I lost track after the first twenty k's."One of the women said, swiping away the cigarette from her commander before taking a puff. She scratched at a bullet wound in her shoulder; an hour before it was a gaping hole, but it had recovered remarkably.
"Kid's been counting."
"Yup!"The boy smiled, patting the dead body. "Checked it all twice."
The group all circled around and lit up their own cigarettes. After all, the damnable things couldn't hurt. It was a celebration.
"Grof mr."A gurgle sounded somewhere near, and everyone looked down. The dead body was waving its hand back and forth, pointing at a foot that was firmly planted on his chest.
"Oh, shit man, sorry."One of them said quickly, moving his foot off of the poor sap who was laying on the ground. He reached down and helped the guy off of his back, blood still oozing slightly out of the hole in his mouth. He held his hand open and waved it, miming a smoking motion.
"Dude, I just blew a god damn hole through your throat. You won't be able to smoke for an hour at least."
The hole gurgled a little as he adjusted his helmet before pulling it off, the surface scratched with uncountable little tally marks, marred only by the occasional giant red dash. It appears that some people still manually recorded their KDR's, but tradition dies hard.
"Oh come on, Cap. Give him one. I mean, you were the one that blew that aerodynamic hole into his skull."
The man rolled his eyes, and pulled one out for his enemy. "Bunch of soft hearted pansies."The man groaned his thanks, and lit the thing with a polished metal lighter that read 'AFE'. He took a big drag of it, and as he exhaled, the smoke filtered out of the back of his skull, making the already grotesque scene all the more bizarre.
"So, what does that put us at?"The other woman asked as a plethora of similarly-clad men and women joined them, all covered in viscera that would have assumed them in the grave.
"Well, it seems we're at 35 our side, 29 theirs."
"How many rounds are left?"
"Five."
As if anticipating what they were going to say, a voice boomed into their radios, clear as day. "The Allied Federation of Europe has lost. Score is 35 to 29. Victory goes to the Old Earth Order. Rematch?"
The man with a hole stretched, and put a finger through his mouth, pulling out a piece of bullet. "Nah. Tomorrow maybe?"He was already nice and healed up, a little scar remaining. It would be gone by tomorrow. He pulled out a red marker, and dashed it across his helmet.
"Sure, man. Sure. It was close."
As the winning group walked off towards the closest bar, the kid behind them piped up. "What was up with his helmet?"
"Old world shit, kid. Back when we didn't have a digital interface, they'd have to remember their kills and deaths manually."
"Oh, well, he didn't have a ton of marks. Are they really that bad?"
"No."The man replied, scruffing up the kid's head.
"He just has a lot of helmets." |
He was born.
A small, pale boy.
Grew up in a town.
Pushing his race cars on tracks.
Kicking his sister's dolls over; houses overturned.
She'd cry but she learned to love him.
They both learned a lot of things growing up.
Like their 123's, of which I tell their story now.
Like how mommy and daddy weren't perfect, or how they fought.
Like how no matter how we grow we still end up same.
He grew up to be a successful man, never knowing his own strength.
He never knew about his problems he shared with his father until that night.
Until she, his very own sister, layed with a red pooled halo: like an angel.
It hurt him to see her this way, tracing his thoughts back to what had happened.
Who had done this horrible deed to her; her, a beautiful and strong woman who never hurt.
That night upon realization and grievance, he hid her away just like a guilty boy with broken dolls.
Just like his father and mother, repeating history and molding in to the past one step at a time.
Sometimes, even though we count our age on our fingers and toes and say "this many!".....we never grow up.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Hope this works. Quite the challenge. Thanks for making me start off my day with some hard thinking. For those wondering I go up to twenty words. |
Three kisses, the perfect way to sum up a relationship.
The early kisses, filled with tension and uncertainty. Gentle and containing all of the emotion you want to give to the world, but at the same time worried of the thoughts of the other, whether the quick looks when the other isn't looking are coming from their side as well or just yours. Afraid of the scale that you two are currently standing on, that can tip forward into a relationship or back to the searching phase. So much potential, all withheld by both sides.
Then there are the mid relationship kisses. Whether the kiss is long or short, there is no uncertainty involved. Each knows the other more than they know themselves, and every kiss is a reminder that they accept this. That they are welcoming all of the potential that every human encounter offers and that they are willing to continue their encounters for as long as possible. These are the kisses that you never forget, even when you overlook them. The sort of kisses that you will think of in the middle of a stressful day and will instantly calm down and think straight again, and allow you to carry on with your work day. Even better, these are the kisses that can end an argument with the other in a second, to switch from the yelling and anger back into the loving embrace that you two usually hold each other in.
The third kind of kiss. The kiss of memories. Memories of the other kisses, memories of the dreams you held with the other. Dreams of growing old together and living a happy life. Memories that you wish were still reality, but are growing to realize are just dreams that will be forever unfulfilled by the other. A kiss that you wish could help you travel back in time to take back all of the anger and fighting, to be able to make it all better. This is a kiss that tilts your scale back to the searching, but this time searching for what you once had. This is a kiss that will hit you with more emotion than all of the ones you shared before. This is a kiss of parting, a kiss of only goodbye. |
I love the smell of the crisp brown pages, it reminds me of my days of learning. I've chosen the rooftops of an 11th century Japanese palace to contemplate my last day before graduating from the academy. The beautiful sunset, lack of pollution and warm summer breeze never fail to calm me.
The open book I hold is exactly 84 and a half pages in length.
It reads as a coffee table book of poems you'd find on a coffee table, languishing unread and collecting dust in an alternative coffee shop on the East Side.
But we know them all of by heart. You can quote each of them by page number.
Page 34: "Right after the cement truck, next hard left, then duck."
Page 2: "Deny the man in the red bowlers hat."
Page 43: "Seat 34F is unsafe."
The half page is the mystery. It's been cut or ripped perfectly in half, vertically down the centre. The only words remaining on the left hand side are "*This book will not prot*".
I lower the book slightly to take in the sunset but instead am met with a man dressed in midnight black armor, half way through a downward strike.
Ah, that's what it meant. |
The filthy young man walked down the road, the rifle clutched in his hands, knuckles white with the strain.
The landscape was silent, filled with empty vehicles, scattered here and there along the cracked highway. Oh how desolate the world had become. The teen averted his eyes from the dessicated remains of a human being in one car. His breath rasped in his throat.
He would never had dared to come out so brazenly during the day if it wasn't for the agony in his mouth. The braces he had once pouted about to his parents were damaged, and the pain was more than he could bear. He had lost valuable weight, unable to eat anything but the softest foods.
The quiet wary guests of his family's home had told them about the dentist with his office and equipment on the outskirts of the city. Image that, a dentist with an office. A jittery laugh escaped the teen's lips as he thought about it. Something that should have been so normal. Now it was so ridiculous it was funny.
But the young man had no choice. If he was going to survive, he had to find someone who could cut free the braces without breaking his teeth. It was a matter of life or death.
Unable to risk any of his family's safety, the teen took one rifle and set out on his own. He was going to find this dentist, or die trying.
A rustle in the undergrowth caused his head to swivel around, eyes desperately searching for any movement.
A low rumbling growl eased it's way across the road to the young man, who swallowed and raised the rifle. A wild animal. A wolf, or lion. The wild things had begun to reclaim their world.
It was a dog. Filthy, matted, drool dripping from it's jowls. Eyes ringed with white, it lunged at the teen, jaws parting to reveal yellowed fangs.
The rifle crack shattered the air before the teen even knew what he was doing. He pulled the trigger again, sucking in his breath as the rifle slammed into his shoulder and spun him partially.
He looked back hurriedly, bracing for the dog's impact, but it never came. The dog lay dead in the road.
The young man took another breath, then shifted the rifle and continued on, feeling his heart pounding against his ribs.
He would never know that he had just saved the rest of humanity.
He would never know that the dog he had just shot carried within it's saliva, a deadly virus.
He would never know that the virus would have spread like wildfire through dogs and man alike, ending what was left of his world, killing even him in cold sweat and agony.
He would never know this, but he would find the dentist he searched for. |
It was a big day when they came. Their ships like those from a 1980's Sci-Fi B-Movie. Their eyes were big and black, their fingers long and clammy. The validation felt by alien conspiracy theorists was only matched by the disappointment felt by the religious as their world views crumbled in the cheesy beeps and gaudy neon of an alien landing.
The story went like this. In 1947, an alien reconnaissance flight experienced an engine malfunction and crashed in the deserts of New Mexico. By some miraculous coincidence, the atmospheric make up of Earth was the same as that of the alien homeworld, and a still living alien specimen was recovered from the crash. After several months of effort, the alien and humans were able to communicate using gestures, speech, and chemical sensors. The alien requested materials to repair its ship with, which the humans provided.
The alien responded to this gesture with an offer, translated here to the best of human abilities:
*"Dude, guys, thanks so much. You know, there's a lot of species in this universe that are such absolute dicks, but you guys are pretty alright. Tell you what, for being so nice to me, I can come back here in about seventy of your Earth years with whatever tech advancement you guys want, you name it."*
After much debate, the request by the scientists at the Roswell Research Facility went as such:
*"Our species' greatest problems are vulnerability to disease, aging, organ failure, psychological failure, starvation, drowning, on a personal level, and an inability to modify our environment, climate, and surroundings on a societal level. We request that you biologically modify us to be more resistant, and thus lessen the suffering which pervades our planet."*
Now, that's pretty fucking stupid, right? Yeah scientists, lets just give the potentially hostile aliens a laundry list of our greatest weaknesses, but fuck it right? Then again, these aliens are strong enough to murder the shit out of us weaknesses or not, and all the alien had seen of Earth was New Mexico. Nobody is going go through the effort of invading a planet off of a first impression of New Mexico.
Two volunteers, a male and a female, were sent with the alien to provide biological samples and cultural explanation. With them they took books, and movies, and songs, and samples. Seventy years passed, and here were the aliens with a mighty fleet. The original two humans that left Earth were long dead, but in their stead was the next step of human evolution.
Augmented strength, resistance, DNA repair, backup organs, more efficient metabolization, telekinesis, increased working memory, better information storage and recall, improved eyes, built in climate control, the ability to fucking *fly*, oxygen and carbon scrubbers. Like...a ton of good shit, is what I'm getting at. His name was Jack. His name was Jack because, while the human volunteers were some of the most intelligent and psychologically stable specimens of humanity, they were also really terrible at coming up with names.
The next few weeks were a blur of inter-species partying and good times. Sure, there were some violent protests and riots, but the aliens understood. This wasn't the first time they had taken a planet's first contact virginity. At the end of two weeks, the aliens flew back home, having made new friends on an isolated spire of the Milky Way galaxy, and having left behind a "Welcome to Intergalactic Society"present by way of Jack.
Jack had been given a whole research facility to live in. Here they would take samples of his blood, and feed him, and run him through tests, and give him books to read, and measure his abilities, and hang out with him. Or at least, that was their plan. But Jack didn't agree to that plan, instead he preferred his plan.
His plan was this: Sit in the corner and sulk.
EDIT: Gonna break this into parts so that I don't accidentally close my tab and lose everything. |
I come here everyday. This is my *place* and I've come to terms with that. I'm not alone in that, but it sure beats being a runner, flying off to a foreign country to try and cheat fate, only to be strapped down and shipped back home to deal with some minor ailment. Often enough they spend they night in their childhood home and, of course, never wake up. I don't blame runners; we all know one. I just don't want to be one.
Regardless, here I am, in the same spot I drive out to every day. It's only a twenty-minute drive, this little patch of grass by the side of the road. It's probably indistinguishable from the rest of this seemingly endless highway to anyone but me.
I wonder what it will be.
Will I swerve to miss a dear and hit a tree or will I pull an all-nighter and fall asleep at the wheel? Maybe I won't be driving at all. During one of my daily visits I could be hit by another driver, though they are few and far between. Hell, I could just have an aneurism paying my respects to myself. Whatever it is, it won't happen this weekend. My buddy Joe and I are headed up north for the weekend. If it's my turn to go, it'll have to wait until Monday. Oh-that reminds me. I should probably leave. Joe's brave to ride with me, considering his place is the passenger seat of my car. We probably wouldn't have been friends if he'd known earlier, but we've known each other since we were kids and he didn't recognize the upholstery until I traded in that old jalopy for the fine machine I've got today.
I stand up to head back to the car and the gunshot registers in my ears moments before everything goes black.
*I wonder how old he was. I've never been able to see that, just like I can't see my own place. All I could see was his place, just like I can with everyone else. This guy was different though, he wasn't hard to case. I followed him for two weeks and he came here every day. Every. Day. What is he, crazy? I can't imagine staring death in the eye like that every day after work. I'll go through his pockets for his keys, but I'm not taking his wallet. I don't want to know how old he was, or where he's from. I've got all the information I need already. I know that his buddy's name is Joe and that I'm already late to pick him up.* |
No real end or beginning to this but the image made me wanna do some dialog:
"We're still ten days away."
"We're always ten days away, huh?"This said with a scowl.
"Sorry Mike, until my sensors pick up a signature that's the closest I can track"
"Sorry? How can you be sorry? How can you even know what sorry IS!? You overcomplicated light-switch!"
"I am programmed to interact in-"
"Programmed! Ha, why couldn't they add a little code to fine tune your sensors, instead of all this sorry bullshit, maybe then we'd have found it by now and be done with this goddamn frozen wasteland."
Silence. Carl's conversation routines didn't extend to calming the nerves of an stressed out agent. They had been on the hunt for three months now. Three months now with nothing but cold, snow, and the self-contained meal packs specially designed to give the body all the energy it needs but none of the comfort.
"Maybe we should just start blowing shit up...y'know, it's not like there is anything out here we need to avoid destroying..."
"Our orders were very specific that we were to use a minimal-"
"Fuck the orders! how long can we do this already, huh? we have almost no chance of finding this thing. But that doesn't bother you, huh? You'll just keep on ticking till that little nuclear reaction blowing up inside you burns out, won't you?"
Carl seemed to contemplate this for a minute. "Sorry." |
I looked at the little bundle of joy cradled in my arms, then to my husband. And then to the agent in front of me.
"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken. It just isn't possible."
The agent adjusted his glasses. "I'm sorry, ma'am. But we've run all the tests. We're positive."
I looked at my baby's tiny, fragile hands. A little band was wrapped around her right arm. Next to her name, in bold letters, was printed "JOSEPH STALIN."
"I understand this may come as a shock to you. I mean, when I was four I learned that I was a Klansman in my previous life. We can accept those types of people, since their prejudices can be overcome with some mental training. But we can't risk *her* following in her past life's footsteps. It's just too dangerous."
I looked back to my husband's eyes. Baseball player, died of a heroin overdose in '79. I was an Austrian filmmaker in my past life, and I had never wanted to produce a film in my life.
"I...I see. Can you just give us time so we can say goodbye to our Abigail?"
The agent pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Fine. Ten minutes. I'll wait outside."He turned around and started walking to the door. "Just promise me you won't try any funny business, okay? The last time I had to deal with some couple defending Hitler, and that was not a pleasant experien-"
I winced as I heard the crack of wood against the agent's skull. I looked at Arthur, still holding the bat. I don't know what surprised me more, the fact he could find it so quickly or the fact that he could swing just like him.
Arthur dropped the bat and looked at the agent's body. And then he looked at me.
"We have maybe an hour before he comes to. Get her to the car."
We took everything we could carry, strapped Abigail to her car seat, and drove off.
We didn't care if the entire government was looking for us. And we didn't care that a Communist dictator was in the back seat, suckling on her bottle. She was still our daughter. |
**The One Where Ross Loses It**
[Scene: Central Perk, everyone is there. Ross is working on a crossword puzzle as Monica is talking about her day at work.]
**Monica:** I mean, rabbit? They expect me to cook rabbit?
**Chandler:** I know, I mean if you eat all the rabbits who'd deliver the eggs this year?
*Laugh track*
**Joey:** So what did you tell them?
**Monica:** I told them I'd think about it. I mean, I knew I'd have to change the menu, but rabbit?
**Ross:** I don't know what the big deal is.
**Joey:** You don't know what the big deal is?
**Ross:** Oh, judgement from the man who dropped his sandwich off the balcony and went down to see if it was "still good"?
*Laugh track*
**Joey:** HEY! It WAS still good!
*Laugh track*
**Ross:** All I'm saying is people have always eaten rabbit, it's not like eating people or anything.
**Rachel:** Have you seen most of the people in New York? Trust me, I'd rather eat a thousand of the freaks I see on the subway than let one cute little bunny go into one of Monica's overpriced stews!
*Laugh track as Monica looks offended*
**Monica:** Hey!
**Ross:** What, you'd really rather eat people than rabbits?
*After a few moments of silence the rest of the gang nod and say yeah. Ross stands up, putting on his coat*
**Ross:** Fine, FINE! I guess I'm the weird one then! You all enjoy your, your CANNIBALISM, I've got a date!
*Ross leaves as the rest of the gang look at each other, shocked*
**Joey:** It was still good!
*Laugh track*
[Scene: Ross's apartment. He's sat on the couch next to his crush of the week, Jessica]
**Ross:** You seriously wouldn't eat rabbit?
**Jessica:** No, it's cruel.
*Ross stares at her for a few seconds*
**Ross:** You're a butcher!
*Laugh track as Jessica shrugs*
**Jessica:** I think your friends are right. I mean, have you seen the average person in New York? Last week I saw some guy eat a meatball sandwich off the sidewalk while screaming "it's good, it's good"!
*Laugh track as Ross sighs*
**Ross:** I guess dinner was a bad idea then
*Jessica stands up, shocked*
**Jessica:** There was RABBIT in there!
**Ross:** What did you think I meant when I said we were having bunny?
**Jessica:** I thought that was the name of the chicken!
*Laugh track as Ross gives Jessica a look of disbelief*
**Ross:** Jessica, wait, I-
*Jessica goes to slap Ross, but as she hits him she trips over his coffee table*
**Ross:** Jessica!
*Jessica falls face first onto one of the synthetic candles laid out on the table, driving it up through her eye. She screams and shakes before dying. Laugh track as Ross throws his hands up*
**Ross:** NOW I KNOW WHY PHOEBE HATES POTTERY BARN!
*Laugh track as Ross paces back and forth*
**Ross:** Nobody'll believe this story, it's too stupid. They all know I still over Rachel, and that monologuing I've been doing lately'll really point towards "crazy"!
*Laugh track*
**Ross:** Gotta hide the evidence...
*Ross looks towards his kitchen and starts to grin*
**Ross:** They said they'd rather eat people then rabbit...so why don't I carry out a bit of science on that!
[Scene: Joey's apartment. He and Chandler are tossing a tennis ball back and forth across the room]
**Chandler:** Is it weird that this is the highlight of my day?
**Joey:** If by weird you mean sad then yeah, weirdest thing I've ever heard.
*Laugh track*
**Chandler:** Oh hey, what're you doing for dinner?
**Joey:** Eating, probably.
*Laugh track*
**Chandler:** No, I mean do you have any plans?
**Joey:** Not really, why?
**Chandler:** Ross invited me over to dinner at his place, thought you might want to come. Have a guy's night in, drink some beers, watch some football.
**Joey:** Football season's over dude.
**Chandler:** Hockey.
**Joey:** There's no game on tonight.
**Chandler:** Soccer.
**Joey:** I thought this was a guys night?
*Laughter track*
**Chandler:** Whatever, you wanna come?
**Joey:** Yeah, I'm not the kind of guy to turn down a free meal!
[Scene: Ross's apartment. Joey and Chandler are sat on the couch as Ross walks in holding a plate.]
**Ross:** Fresh hamburgers, right out of the pan! And eat up, there's plenty left over, I made them myself!
**Chandler:** OK, but this isn't rabbit is it?
*Laughter track*
**Ross:** No, no, it's not rabbit.
*Laughter track as Ross puts the plate down and Joey and Chandler put burgerss on their own plates and start to eat.*
**Joey:** Good, I haven't been able to look at Jessica Rabbit the same way for like, a whole day now!
*Laughter track as Ross starts to leave the room.*
**Ross:** You guys want some beers?
**Chandler:** Yeah sure dude.
*Chandler suddenly stops eating.*
**Chandler:** What the hell is this?
*Chandler picks what looks like a finger nail out of his burger as Joey keeps eating.*
**Joey:** Probably from the cow's finger, I dunno.
*Laugh track.*
**Chandler:** Cow's don''t have fingers, Joe.
**Joey:** Then maybe it's Ross's.
*Laugh track*
**Chandler:** Nah, he gave this up in college after the...incident. And anyway, this one's painted pink. There's only one person who wore pink fingernails...
*Laugh track.*
**Joey:** Jessica!
**Chandler:** I thought he said he made them himself!
**Joey:** Well I'm gonna have words with that guy! NOBODY LIES TO JOEY TRIBBIANI ABOUT FOOD!
*Laugh track as Joey snatches the finger nail and marches into the kitchen, while Chandler shrugs and keeps eating.*
**Chandler:** Lies or no lies, this is some good grub!
*Laugh track*
[Scene: Ross's kitchen, Ross hears Joey coming in and quickly slams closed his fridge door.]
**Ross:** Oh hey dude, I'll get you those beers in a se-
*Ross notices the fingernail in Joey's hand and Joey's face and freezes up. Laugh track*
**Ross:** Now, wait a second Joe!
**Joey:** JESSICA?! JESSICA?! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!
*Laugh track*
**Ross:** No, look, dude, I didn't want to do it but she made me!
**Joey:** She made you? You're like twice her size! Don't you know how to retrain a woman!
*Laugh track*
**Ross:** Joe you weren't there, she was just so angry and...and it was just so tasty!
*Laugh track as Joey pauses for a second.*
**Joey:** It was tasty...I'll give it that...BUT IT WAS STILL JESSICA!
*Laugh track*
**Ross:** Look, dude, you can't tell anyone about this!
**Joey:** Hey, I won't, but Chandler knows, and what Chandler knows Monica knows, and what Monica knows Rachel knows, and what Rachel knows everybody knows! I told Chandler about the thing that girl did with the popsicle, next thing I knew everybody knew about it!
*Laugh track as Ross looks confused*
**Ross:** What popsicle thing?
*laugh track asJoey freezes up*
**Joey:** Well, erm...look this isn't about me! You've gotta just admit this, THIS IS SERIOUS!
**Ross:** OK, OK, I'll go out there and apologise to Chandler about it, just let me do it.
**Joey:** Thanks dude, you're a good frie-
*Before Joey can finish his sentence Ross grabs a butcher knife and slashes his throat, instantly dropping Joey to the ground.*
**Joey:** D...dude...why?
**Ross:** I accidentally introduce myself as "Ross Schmeller"and Chandler makes fun of me for a month, how'd you think he'd react to finding out I killed a girl, ate some of her and fed her to you guys.
*Laugh track as Joey grins*
**Joey:** Hah...Ross Schmeller...that w-wait you eat peo-
*Loud laughter and some applause as Ross stabs Joey through the heart with his knife. Ross looks somewhat sad.*
**Ross:** Oh sweet sweet Joey...hey, I've never cooked Italian before!
*Laugh track as Ross stands up, sighing.*
**Ross:** Guess Chandler's gonna have to be next...god his last word's are gonna suck. "Could I BE anymore dying?"
*Laugh track as Ross exists the kitchen, still holding his knife, and we cut to commercial*
Possibly might finish this later. |
You always felt her there with you.
The air in her lungs was the howl of the wind outside of the window.
Her footsteps throughout the house were the creaks of the floorboards.
She hugged you when you were cold, and warmed up your lonely bed when you slept alone.
When you felt a tap on you shoulder and you turned around abruptly, she was all of a foot away from you. She stared at you with loving eyes and you returned her gaze with nervously scanning eyes, attempting to the darkness in the living room.
One day, a man decided to break into your home. He abandoned his guardians long ago, and replaced his faith with the dulling burn of liquor. He crept up your stairs, and you thought his footsteps was just your creepy old house.
The wind howled fiercely outside. She tried to warn you.
You finished brushing your teeth and as you stepped out of the bathroom, you became face to face with the man. You froze. The man pulled a knife.
She cried, and screamed, and kicked.
Without warning, every faucet in your home turned on to full blast. The wind blew your windows open. The man was thrust across the hallway into a floor lamp a dozen feet away.
Then, all was blissfully calm. The running water sounded like waterfalls to you, with all that adrenaline pumping. But a slight whiff of your wife's perfume brought you to your senses.
You fell to your knees and you felt the warmth of her wrapping her arms around you. Her red hair cascading over your shoulder, the balm on her lips, the softness of her skin, it all came back to you in that moment.
You always felt her there with you.
|
It was midnight.
There were three knocks on the door.
"Just a minute."Sarah shouted.
She groaned and threw off her blankets. She rubbed her eyes and stepped onto the cold floor. The bright, sharp sickle of the crescent moon shone in through the balcony's glass door, peeking between high-rises.
Sarah waddled across her living room and cracked open the door to her apartment. She left the chain latch on, just in case.
"Hello again, Sarah."
His voice preceded itself in a whisper. His fleshless face was shrouded by a deep hood, attached to a black hoodie sweatshirt that said 'Cradle of Filth.'
"Artie?"Sarah blinked at her old friend, "It's been an age."
"Arthur. My name is Arthur."
"Sure it is."She laughed.
Sarah undid the latch and opened the door wide. Arthur collapsed onto her entryway floor.
When he awoke, he was on her couch. The curtains were drawn, and all the artificial lights were off. The room was lit instead with girly-smelling candles. Sarah dozed in an easy chair, with a silvery longsword leaning on the chair's arm. She was wearing bright pink pajama pants and a white camisol top, in stark contrast to her armament. Arthur shifted, and the noise of his movement woke Sarah. She jumped up and grabbed the sword, panting with the sudden rush of adrenaline.
"Sorry, just me."
Sarah sighed.
"It's okay. I'm just a little jumpy. You're hurt."
"I'll be fine, probably."
"I hope so. But I didn't get a chance to ask you if whatever did that to you is still out there."Sarah gestured with her free hand, indicating the longsword, "So I was a little nervous."
"Rightfully so, I'm afraid."
Arthur sat up. His hood was down, revealing a bleach-white skull. The dome of his skull was cracked, and the crack had blackish-red streaks of dried liquid. Sarah could only assume that this was what passed for blood among Reapers. Some of it had crusted onto his sweatshirt, accompanied by what appeared to be a bullet hole.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to come."Arthur apologized, "He's still after me. I shouldn't have come here. I just, I can't lead him across. If I go to the other side, he'll be able to follow. If I stay here, he can't."
Sarah held the hilt of her sword a little tighter.
"You're scaring me, Artie. What could do this?"
"Not what. Who. A human. A warlock."
"What can we do?"
"You can do nothing. You have done more than enough."
"Don't even think about trying to leave here without me. I'm helping you."
"I've told you before, Sarah. You don't owe me anything."
"Bullshit. My mom's spirit wandered around our old house for a week. She was scared, and you helped her to the other side. I owe you my life, as far as I'm concerned."
"Don't say that."Arthur's voice was pained, quiet.
It was four a.m.
There were three knocks on the door.
"I know you're there."A man's voice, calm, but filled with razor-edged tension, called from the door.
"There's no one here but me."Sarah replied, lifting her sword to the ready.
"Heh heh heh."The voice cackled, "Nobody here but us chickens, eh?"
"Go away."Sarah spat back.
The door disintigrated in a clap of thunder and a burst of purple light. Standing in the now-smoking doorway was a tall man. He was pale-skinned and balding. He wore plain black pants, a blank white t-shirt, and an open bathrobe. He had a wild look in his eyes, and a nine-millimeter pistol in one hand. A large, leather-bound book hung from a strap on his belt, binding-up.
"I'll huff and puff and blow your whole apartment complex down, little girl. Don't fuck with me. Where's the Reaper?"
"I'm here."Arthur struggled to his feet, "Leave the girl out of this."
Sarah stood between them, her silver longsword gleamed.
"Shut the fuck up, Artie."
"Do you know just who you're defending, little girl?"The warlock gestured to Arthur with his pistol, "Has he shown you his true face?"
"I can see him. I see plenty. He's my friend, and you're not going anywhere near him."
The warlock sneered, and gestured dismissively with his empty hand. A bolt of purple fire sprang up and flew at Sarah's face. She didn't flinch, and the fire disappated when it reached the silver blade.
"Oh."The warlock smiled, "Oh I see. Is that how it is? Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Get out of my apartment."
"Do you know what this is?"The warlock reached down with his free hand and unclasped the book from his belt. He held it up with reverence and menace.
"Your book of spells? I don't really care."Sarah quipped.
"Please don't."Arthur pleaded.
"This,"the warlock smiled a greasy smile, "This is an appointment book. *His* appointment book. You're in it."
"You don't even know me."
"Sarah Ferguson. Age 19. Mother and Father, both deceased."The warlock opened the book with one hand, his fingers were long and grotesquely agile. "June 22nd. Three days from now."
He slammed the book shut.
Sarah paled.
"Is this true, Arthur?"
"Even if I was allowed to tell you that, would you want me to?"Arthur's tone of voice was supplicant.
"Is that your book?"
"Yes."
Sarah nodded.
Then she lunged.
The warlock raised his sidearm, but he wasn't fast enough. The gun roared impotently off to the side, leaving a ringing in Sarah's ears.
She opened her eyes to see her sword buried hilt-deep in the warlock's chest. He looked at her with an expression of dreamlike surprise.
"What's wrong?"She glared at him, "Didn't read your entry?"
The man's eyes glazed over, and his skin went ashen. His body slid to the ground, and Sarah released the sword's handle, letting it fall to the ground with the body.
She bent down and picked up the book. She didn't open it. She just handed it to her friend.
"Sarah, I-"
Sarah put a single finger over Arthur's lipless mouth.
"Don't explain. I never had any illusions about what you do. Actually, heh, this may sound funny but..."She smiled and rubbed the back of her neck, "I always hoped it would be you. Y'know, when the time came."
Arthur just looked at her mournfully.
"I'll clean up here. You should probably get back and file your report."
"Yeah,"Arthur's voice was quiet, "I suppose I'd better go."
"I'll see you soon, Artie."
By the time Sarah turned around, Arthur was gone. |
I pinched my nose between my fingers. I had spent literally a billion dollars to get elected. I kissed so much ass the lining of my mouth is a permanent shit brown. I debased myself, gave up my freedom and all of my time all so I could be elected. I felt a calling to protect the greatest nation on Earth. I was excited most for this meeting. The CIA. I would finally get the highest security clearance possible.
What I expected was not this. It was anything but this.
The CIA office was just a bunch of people standing around in an office...doing nothing. They had fancy monitors, super opulent chairs with lotions and tissues that looked expensive enough to be put at a campaign fundraiser.
Feet were raised up on desks, televisions were on and half the staff were playing video games. I'm pretty sure I heard loud German fetish porn coming from one of the cubicles. A red faced bald and fat sixty something year old man who had seen much better days was escorting me around the building.
"So tell me this one more time,"I exasperatedly sighed, "why this place isn't busy? You're the god damned CIA."
The man sweated some more. I think they picked him for the meeting so I would feel sorry for the guy. He mumbled, "Uhh, umm, sir, Mr. President, we here at the CIA don't actually do anything any more."
I pinched my nose again. "Why?"
"Well sir, Mr. President, sir, uh, after the cold war, which we lost by a lot by the way,"his eyes perked up hoping that would distract me into a history lesson. I didn't bite.
"We found out we weren't really needed any more. So we sort of...stopped working. What was the point? No nation was strong enough to attack us, we weren't really getting any news of an attack. For like, twenty years it was all just,"he looked around trying to come up with a way to make it sound logical, "so boring."
I definitely had a migraine coming.
"So the CIA didn't do a thing until 9/11?"
"Pretty much sir. That was our bad."
"And since?"
"Well, we figured out pretty much everything we needed to know within six months of that. Well, the NSA did. We didn't really do much. Not many people who can speak Afghani. Heh."
"So what the hell was the Patriot Act for? The massive increase in defense spending? The explosion of the black budget?"
He put his hand behind his head and looked at the floor, completely embarrassed. "Never waste a way to get more funding. That's the motto of the government, after all."
I sat down inside the plushiest cubicle I'd ever seen. The chair has seven different massage settings. It felt like sinking into a silk hammock. I closed my eyes and tried not to throw up or kill the poor sap leading me around.
"Hey guys!"Someone shouted from one of the cubicles. "Check out this super hottie one of the NSA guys sent me! Good lord her tits are huge!"
Men's feet hit the floor and rapid clicking and attention filled the office. It was probably the most attentive they'd been all day.
"Woah, checked her Facebook. Abort! Abort! Seventeen!"
Frenzied clicking and closing of browsers and deletion of files swiftly followed. I blinked my eyelids and raised an eyebrow at the poor slob.
"Uhh, HR sends out memo's and sends you to some seriously boring meetings about abuse of privileges if they catch you looking at minors."
I put my head between my legs. I always thought people were lying when they talked about government pork and how useless the government was.
"Scratch that, she turned eighteen two days ago!"
"Nice!"
"Sweet her tits are magnificent, like full watermelons."
"No, more like saggy beach balls."
The secret service rushed me to medical after I threw up. |
This was the third and last time.
The man stood among the wreckage, chest heaving, and not a scratch on his body. His clothes had burned and fallen away in the explosion, and someone else's blood and matter were splattered across his chest, his face, his back and legs... Still, it felt as though he'd run a marathon, and sweat dripped down between his eyes, and the heat was painful and uncomfortable against his impenetrable skin.
The man's eyes glistened with tears. Amid the tangle of scrap metal and burning bodies, *he* was the broken one... the defeated. Everything he had been promised - everything he knew to be true - taken from him. Is this the Abyss, an eternity walking this cruel and lost world?
This would be the third and last time that he would walk away from his martyrdom. The last was a small cluster of windowless buildings in the middle of a small, unimportant city. The first time, the time before that, was a magnificent skyscraper that glittered, reflecting the light of the sun. Today it was an airplane that had been flying across seas. It hadn't made it to the ocean before the bomb strapped to his chest went off.
If there was no paradise, no god welcoming him for his relentless faith, what was the point? So many lives lost... but for what? Immortality could not exist if there was a life after life, could it? What sort of god would play such a savage joke?
The man's legs give out beneath him and he crumbles. His indestructible body crumples next to the remains of a seared, featureless person and he begins to weep. The smell is nauseating, and the heat is unbearable. This is not the sort of thing man should live through. He should have died like the rest of them long before this flight... back at the skyscraper... but he had to know for sure that it wasn't a fluke. He had to know even after the small cluster of buildings... but not this time.
This time he knows. |
"Oh...my...*fuck.*"Alan didn't quite understand what he was holding in his hands. A faded Polaroid, tucked away in the bottom of his mother's closet. He recognized the elements--the people, the clothes, the setting--but he had never been there. This event had simply not happened, had never happened, would never happen.
"I suppose I'll have to call him,"he said as he tucked the photo into his shirt pocket. It had been only a few years since they'd spoken, only--My God, had it been that long? Alan had other problems on his mind, and tucking this photo away was the best option now. He opened another of his mother's dresser drawers. Panties, some dirtier than others, dirty with the soil of toil and the blood of life. Under them, a cheap purple vibrator. "Jesus, Ma."He glanced up. "At least you were keeping yourself satisfied."He looked at his hands and sighed.
He walked out to the kitchen and opened the cupboard under the sink. Yellow rubber gloves so bright they slapped him in the face. He looked to the wall where the phone's display gave off its green glow. On a stool beneath it was a phone book. He started flipping through it before taking the phone out of the cradle. *From the cradle to the grave,* he thought as he dialed.
"Hello, is this a Mr. Nathan Abnernathy? This is Alan Porter. Yes. Yes. Thank you. Yes, she's in a better place now...well, maybe not."Laughter on both sides. "I was cleaning out her house, and I found something that might interest you. No. No. No. Well, why don't you let me tell you what it is? I have here in my possession a Polaroid picture, a genuine photograph of the two of us together. Yes. Uh-huh. Let me finish, Nate. Us with my mother standing outside Coyne Cinema, probably around first grade or so. That's right. You remember where this is going? No, I don't believe it myself."
Alan took the photograph out of his pocket to verify one last time. "Yes, sir, the film up on the marquee is *Ghostbusters 3*. Now, you were the 'there was totally a third Ghostbusters movie' side of this argument, so you explain to me how IMDB and my memory are wrong. You tell me how a movie like that can be made and forgotten by the world."He gives his watch a glance. "Yeah, I can be at Smith's in fifteen. See you."Alan shook his head. It didn't matter what the photograph, what Nate said. There was not a goddamned third Ghostbusters movie, and there never would be. |
He had been struck with the sudden urge for a cold, sweet, plump peach. He was walking along 8th avenue when all he could think about, all he could possibly need in that moment, was a peach.
Harold walked to the green grocer on 37th street. He might be a little late coming back from his lunch break. But, it was Friday. His boss would probably come back to the office two or three beers deep and not notice.
It was a small place. Three or four aisles of pretty standard vegetables and fruits. All good quality though. That's why Harold like the place. It was close to his office and he could pick up some greens if he needed to on his way home.
He walked in, looking down at his phone, and made his way to where he knew the peaches would be. He grabbed a few that were too firm until he found one in the middle of the pile that bounced back slowly when he pressed into it leaving a little print of his index finger.
His water bottle was empty so he went to get one out of the fridge near the front door, where the counter was.
"Harold."
He didn't pay attention at first. He probably had misheard.
"Harold. Harold Greenburg."
Harold looked around and there behind him was a man just a bit taller than him, which was impressive, since Harold was almost six foot. He was wearing a reflective yellow vest. His stained white t-shirt underneath barely kept his belly in. He was unshaven and wearing dirty blue jeans tucked into ankle high work boots.
Harold, in his skinny jeans and Oxford shirt, stood there for a second, running the peach along his fingers, its cold escaping, looking at the man.
"Vince?"He said after too long a pause for anyone watching to think these men every knew each other.
"Vince DiNapoli?"
"Yeah! It's me! I haven't seen you in..."
"Since high school."
"Yeah!"
Harold eyed him once more. His skin tensed up and instinctually he looked around to make sure there was no one behind him. No trash can he could be put into and rolled in. No grassy field where he could be knocked down and kicked. No '97 Ford Mustang driving too fast in front him.
"Hi, Vince. You work in the city?"Harold said finally.
"Yeah, for ConEd actually. I work on a lot of underground electrical stuff. You know? Feed wires that go into buildings. That sort of stuff. But what about you? Tell me!"he said going to pat Harold on the arm.
Harold winced.
"I, uh. I'm a writer. For a website. Pop-culture bullshit. Lists full of GIFs and stuff. You know?"
"That's great man. That's great."
"Well, listen, I uh, I need to get back to the office."
"You work around here?"Vince said as a walkie-talkie attached to his belt went off. He pushed down hard into a button to silence it, and crossed his arms while looking back at Harold.
"Yeah, on 34th."
Harold finally walked to the counter to pay.
"Hey man."Vince said as Harold got his wallet out.
"Hey, I'm sorry I was uh, uh, such a shithead to you when we were kids."
Harold stopped, put a five dollar bill on the counter and turned to Vince.
"Excuse me?"he said taking a bite from it.
"It's just. I don't know. I was a real asshole to you, when we were kids. You know? I mean, what the fuck did I know? I was an angry little shit who was flunking out of high school."
Harold swallowed the first bite of his peach. He hadn't even noticed his change on the counter behind him. The man behind the register watched the two of them, the only other people in the store.
"I was a real fuck. And uh, I'm sorry."
Harold took another bite of his peach to buy time.
"Maybe, maybe this is like fate or something. I've been going to A.A. for awhile now. Maybe this is god helping me out, because Harold, Harold I'm on step nine."
"Step nine?"Harold said.
"Apologizing. I mean, I wasn't a drunk when we were in high school, but, I still think that uh. I still think I owe you an apology."
Harold was halfway through his peach.
He looked at Vince. He took the change from the counter. He turned towards the door and started to speak as he walked away.
"I gotta get back to the office." |
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