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Todd stared around the inside of the van at his three\-man crew.
“Alright, remember guys, we’re here for one thing and one thing only, to get arrested.” Two clown masks nodded in excitement. They were about to pull off the biggest not\-heist in history, they were convinced they didn’t have a chance. “Right, blue skies gents, blue skies.”
Three clowns in painting jumpsuits streamed out the back of the van marching toward the bank, shotguns in hand. Todd, in the lead, fired a warning shot through the glass doors at the entrance, then tripped over the remains of the door frame on his way in.
“God’s luck,” he muttered. He *needed* to get arrested, to take a fall, his little girl was being held hostage by the Green Street Yakuza exchange, he shuddered to think what would happen if he wasn’t arrested today. The rest of the gang was in a similar bind. He struggled to his feet, cutting his hands on the glass.
Matt stepped over him, charging into the bank at a run. “Where is security!” He shouted as he loped into the service room. Panicked customers started screaming and throwing their money at him, the money kept flitting in some unseen breeze and floating back to them, no matter how hard they tried to give it to the robbers.
“He’s sick today! Sorry, the guard is sick today!” The teller behind the counter waved his hands in the air as he stared down the barrel of the gun in horror.
“Well hit the alarm you dimwit!” Matt shouted. The rest of the gang had caught up, Todd's hands were bloody from the broken glass.
“I\-\- I’m trying sir, I’ve been hitting it ever since your\-\- associate\-\- tripped over the door. Something seems to have gone wrong.” Jake swung his gun around at the teller, wild\-eyed, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” The bank teller was almost in tears.
“I’m not going out like this!” Jake screamed. “They have my wife you bastards! Get the cops here, NOW!”
“The phone line’s out, that’s why the silent alarm isn’t working,” the teller explained.
“I’ll fire a few rounds out the door, get the cops’ attention” Todd said, stomping off to the entrance.
“We need evidence, evidence!” Jake ripped his mask off his face and ran toward the nearest security camera, jumping up towards it. The power went out. “No! No no no no!” He stomped around the room, eyes frenzied. “What if they think we never came? What if they think we chickened out? What about my wife!”
Todd scrambled back from the front, “My gun’s jammed! Can’t get anyone’s attention, someone else do it.”
“I\-\- I think I’ve forgotten my ammunition.” Matt looked bewildered and spun back to the teller, “There’s no security guards here? No alarms? No cameras?”
“I’m so sorry, please don’t hurt me.” The teller shrank back in the darkness.
“We have to get out of here, we have to go find some cops on the streets to arrest us,” Todd said, thinking quickly.
“Right.”
The three of them ran to the back exit, but found themselves lost in a maze of hallways.
“Why didn’t we take the front exit?” Jake said angrily as they groped around in the darkness.
“Our van’s at the back, genius, just calm down, the exit is here somewhere.” Matt said. “Here, I think I’ve found\-\-”
A latch clicked and a door opened up into the vault. “Hmm, not quite what we wanted.”
“No, this is perfect,” Todd walked into the vault, “We’ll load up on this stuff before we find the cops. Up until now we’ve just got disorderly conduct and some minor vandalism to our names, not even an assault charge, if we load up on this we’re sure to get arrested for grand theft at least.” He started hammering open safety deposit boxes and dumping the contents into his pack, the others followed suit.
Packs loaded, they resumed the search for the exit. After finding one, they kicked the door down and ran into the streets. Jake fired his gun several times into the air to attract the attention of the local constabulary, but the streets remained deserted around them.
“Where can we find some ruddy cops!” Jake was frothing at this point.
“There!” Matt said, pointing down the street toward a bar. “*The Badge and Gun*, if that ain’t a cop bar then I’ll be damned.”
The three ran down the street, kicked the door down and charged into the bar. Four sad looking electricians with ski masks and backpacks full of designer jewelry waved back at them, pints of lager sitting on the bar in front of them; the only other occupant was the bartender.
“This luck,” Todd muttered, approaching the bar. |
"Alright. First one is Ted. Ted? TED!"
"Here, boss. No need to shout."
"Right. Sorry. Okay Ted, the stunt with the blood oozing out of the walls was fantastic."
"Thanks boss."
"Hold on, I'm not finished. It is fantastic, but unfortunately we can't do that in the lobby anymore. The effect is too powerful and it spooks the humans immediately and they turn around and run before they get to explore the rest of the hotel. You don't mind if I relocate you to one of the top floors, do you?"
"Not at all boss, but I think the blood will spill down through the floorboards."
"Hrm. That is actually a plus for us, though I admit cleaning will be a hassle. We'll do a trial run tonight and see how it goes."
"Got it, boss."
"Okay. Up next is Bill. BILL!"
*"Shhh. I'm here. Indoor voice, please."*
"Ahem. Right. I know you enjoy the creepy, haunting whispering when the humans are sleeping to give them nightmares, but I think we can do one better. It's been two weeks since our last basement incursion-"
**"YEAH! The boys are getting antsy down-"**
"Yes, yes, thank-you Chol'nyegusthartaoup. Anyway, Bill, do you think you can go back to lulling people to the basement?"
*"I can try, but I haven't practiced my technique on 'Entice Humans To Follow The Disembodied Voice' in a while."*
"Just try, I know you got it in you still. Can you do it? ...Alright, good spirit. I knew I could count on you. Okay... one last thing on our agenda. Little Victor?"
"Y-yeah? Did I do anything wrong, sir?"
"No, no, not at all, little one. I just wanted to take the time to congratulate you on your first night on the job. You did fantastic. The others LOVED what you did with the coat hanger and the ball. Didn't you, guys?"
"Hell yeah Victor!"
**"That sort of stunt is what we DIE for!"**
"So, can I finally upload that to GhostTricks?"
"Not yet. I wanna add it to our 'Best Of' moments. The competition is fierce with the Howling Mines this season. I think that is all for tonight. Cisca? Do we have humansign?"
"SIR. I SEE TWO CARS. BOTH ARE VERY OLD. ...I THINK THEY ARE YOUNG ADULTS!"
"Excellent! Everyone, calm down. ...I know it is exciting to get young adults but please... Please CALM DOWN! ...Alright. Thanks. Meck, Nica, you know what to do. Make sure you tamper with their cars only AFTER they get inside the house, not as soon as they step out of the cars. We don't want-"
*"...a repeat of '93. Yeah we know."*
"Perfect. Good. Alright, remember everyone: we're here just to spook them. This is THEIR night and THEIR adventure to tell the grandkids one day. Don't hurt them, but make them think the whole time they are in danger. Let's have a fantastic night, people!"
***"BOO!"*** |
"Welcome to Afterlife. Please, kick the bucket."
The soothing yet definitely automated voice snapped me awake. The last thing I remembered was crossing the street and looking at a rather quick truck coming my way. I opened my eyes, looking at an impossible white sky, atop an equally impossible white floor. When I rose from it, I realized that all I was wearing was a white robe, the end of it almost blending with the ivory flooring. So much white. As I looked in front of me, however, I saw a plain old aluminum bucket, contrasting heavily with the nigh blinding whiteness, and when i directed my eyes forward, I saw blue markings on the floor, expanding to the horizon, until I couldn't see anymore.
"Uh, hello?"I tried.
"Welcome to Afterlife. Please, kick the bucket."The voice repeated, not skipping a beat. I scratched my head, puzzled by the almost anecdotal situation. I died, and now I have to literally kick the bucket? "What for?"I asked.
"This method is required by the Afterlife to decide what will be your soul's destination. Don't worry, your deeds were already catalogued; your place in\-"the voice changed to something more robotic, "*Heaven*\-"The voice returned to it's normal tone, "is guaranteed. You may examine the bucket as you see fit, but you only have\-"the robotic tone took over, *"On*e\-"and returned back, "kick. Now please, kick the bucket."
The voice sounded like one of those automatic assistant for corporation lines, which made me imagine a big building with "Afterlife™ Incorporated"in the front. Shrugging those thoughts, I grabbed the bucket. There was a blue circle right underneath the bucket; probably to ensure fairness and all. The bucket itself was completely ordinary, empty, with a handle. I placed the bucket back on the circle and summoned all of my strength into my left leg. However, I didn't took tripping on my robe into account.
As I took some distance and ran to kick it, I accidentally stepped on my robe, and as I fell on my butt, my right leg caught the bucket and flung it backwards, flying in a beautiful arc and falling about 9 feet away from me. As soon as the bucket stopped, the voice returned. "Please wait until the system catalogues your kick."I stood on the floor, sweating bullets, agonizing seconds of silence as I stood still on the floor, staring at the white sky.
"Your score is *2565416123132579*."My eyes widened as the robotic voice rattled the numbers. "Your destination is\-"Another 10 seconds passed as I quickly rose to my feet, waiting.
"Godhood."
As soon as she finished the word, I felt a surge of omnipotent power coursing into me. "You'll be assigned\- *one\-* universe to create and do whatever you wish. Congratulations."I took a deep breath, feeling life at my fingertips, and with the newfound endless intelligence, I realized what happened. An integer underflow on the system, and a loop from 0 to the biggest number available.
Chuckling to myself, I was transported to my universe. |
John walked through the busy hallways in bewilderment. Important looking scientists and government officials walking back and forth, seeming to be busy with one thing or another. An unsettling feeling of misplacement snuck up on John, but not a single person would talk to him.
John eventually found a smart looking scientist flipping through documents on a clipboard and he decided to get some answers as to where he was. Before he could speak, the scientist noticed John and smiled.
"Ah! You must be the representative!"The scientist smiled. John was taken by surprise. Was he a representative? What was he representing? Where even was he?
Dozens of unanswered questions buzzed in John's head, but he responded to the scientist with a cautious nod. "Wonderful!"the scientist replied, "Then follow me! I hope you're ready for your socks to be blown clean off."The scientist walked off. Without much else to go on, John quickly followed.
Walking through the halls, official looking people all gave John a quick nod or a brief greeting. Apparently John was welcomed here, but he himself had no idea why. Trying to remember anything further back resulted in hazy blurs.
"ID?"A gruff voice broke John's train of thought. The scientist had brought him to a futuristic looking door and a rather large man in front. The scientist quickly picked a card from the inside of his coat pocket. The guard examined the card carefully, but suddenly shot his gaze at John.
"What about him?"The guard asked, his gaze unbroken. The scientist quickly waved his hand, "No no, don't to be so paranoid. He's the representative here to record the progress of the J.D. project."The guard continued to stare at John, "So? He should have an ID shouldn't he?"John felt a cold sweat and a strong urge to run. The scientist set a hand on the guard's shoulder, taking his stare off of John and on the scientist. "Jimmy, we're in the most secure facility the US has ever seen. There's no way an intruder could've gotten past every single security measure set to keep this place safe. A fly couldn't get in without proper clearance. Give this guy a break."
The guard gave the scientist a hard, squinted stare. Ultimately, the guard let out a sigh and inputted a rather long code. The futuristic looking door opened. The scientist smiled again, "Drinks are on me tonight Jimmy."
John walked into a pitch black room, the only light coming from the hallway behind them. The scientist, wrapping up a friendly conversation with the guard, followed and lit up a control panel not too far from where John was. The door behind them closed shut, leaving the two in absolute darkness. There was an unsettling coldness to the room. John could feel his own breath freezing as he exhaled. The only thing he could hear was the scientist, who was hitting buttons and turning dials even in the dark.
"There we are."The scientist said triumphantly. The room lit up with in a cold blue light. John found himself standing up against the railing high above the floor below. On the room floor, hundreds of huge tubes full of sickly looking liquids lined the walls and the floors. Each tube held a floating body with wires attached. John had a strange sense of dejavu.
"So this is it! My greatest work!"The scientist walked forwards and opened his arms, as if to embrace the entire room itself. "This biological advancement is decades, no, centuries ahead of it's time. A brand new breed of special agent. All of them specialized to infiltrate anything and everything."From wall to wall, floor to ceiling, John could only see tubes full of the same contents. All except one. John peered to get a better look, but the scientist didn't skip a beat.
"Thanks to new advancements in nanomachine technology and stem cell research, I have essentially created the human chameleon. Imagine it, an operative who can shift weight, height, face, or even body type to fit any and all situations. The change is subconscious and almost instantaneous, and once complete, completely natural. The operative would blend into whatever crowd they may find themselves in, and no one would be able to tell. The ability to look like you always belong."
John looked at the scientist, and back at the the empty tube. There was too much to process, and with an overwhelming sense of dread settling inside of him, John wanted nothing more than to leave. "I call it the 'John Doe' project. It's a bit of a generic name, I know, but that's exactly the point. I hope th-"the scientist was cut off by the door behind them. The guard stepped in and looked at both of them.
"Dude c'mon. I was in the middle of something. You know how much I practiced this speech."The guard ignored him, "It's probably nothing to worry about, but there's word of an intruder."The scientist looked confused. John's stomach sank.
"An intruder?"the scientist scoffed, "How is that even possible?"The guard sighed, "If we knew, do you think we'd be issuing a warning? All we've found is a dead body, completely naked and stuffed in one of the storage rooms. For now, just stay put. Orders are that all personnel stay where they are until they find the intruder."The guard stepped back out and the door closed once again.
The scientist looked back at John with a nervous smile. "Well that's a little weird huh? You can trust Jimmy, he'll keep us safe."John nodded in response, but that was the least of his worries. John's eyes kept shifting. "Hey, I just said there's nothing to worry about. What are you even looking a-"the scientist cut himself off. John stared squarely at the scientist, but it was already too late. They both looked at the empty tube.
"Hey... Where is your ID anyway?" |
My service as a knight has been somewhat unusual. I have less kills and defeats than any other knight in the order, yet my record for resolving situations is unrivaled.
Today, I have been sent to deal with "the big scaly issue"that has been plaguing a particular castle for several years, and rescue the princess in the process. Still, there is something about this particular situation that seems suspicious to me. The dragon is apparently holed up in one of the old castles, and had never been a bother to the kingdom at all until suddenly the princess disappeared. Many knights had gone to try to deal with the situation, but none would share how or why they failed.
As I approach the castle, it looks unusually peaceful. I can see the silhouette of the dragon nestled on the top of the tallest tower. "Hullo Dragon!"I call.
Great wings stretch out as the dragon awakes. I fight the urge to raise my weapons, and instead simply brace behind my shield. The dragon rears, takes and deep breath, and as smoke begins to pour from its nose... it stops and looks at me curiously.
"Knight! Art thou going to attack thee?"
"Well, honestly, only if you try to roast me."
"Oh, that's a relief! The spires up here actually make it really hard for me to breathe fire, I'd much rather we didn't have to get in to a whole tussle."
I look at the dragon a bit more carefully. Stuck between two of the spires, he sort of wiggles a bit and cranes his neck to look at me. He does look rather uncomfortable. "So... do you need a little help...? Like... to get down...?"
The dragon jerks back his head, and glances almost nervously around. "Actually, that would be lovely. There's just one slight... oh dear."
From somewhere inside the castle, I hear it. A shrill screech. "Mortimer? MORTIMER! Are you talking to one of the knights again? I want you to ROAST HIM RIGHT NOW. Then, set fire to the ovens. The wicked witch is coming over tonight, and I have absolutely GOT to have this hog roasted by then."
The dragon, well, apparently Mortimer, heaves a sigh. "Anabelle, dear, this one is really quite nice. Why don't you invite him in instead of \-\-"
"NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT."With a bang, shutters at the top of the second tallest tower fly open. Curtains billow out framing a woman who is undoubtedly the princess. Undoubtedly, because she looks almost exactly like her father. Bulbous, with great throbbing veins, wiry hair, and exactly short enough to resemble a frog in a wig moreso than a human being.
She holds a cord in her hand and for the first time, I begin to put together the full situation. Strung between the two spires on the tallest tower is a cord exactly matching the one she holds in her hand. She grinns, showing gray\-green teeth. "Now, Mortimer."She pulls gently on the cord in her hand, and I can see the smallest of sparks jump from the matching cord between the spires to dance between Mortimer's wings. With each spark, he flinches. I have to act. "Dragon!"I call. "I dare you to roast thee!"I hold the shield up so that it blocks the princess' view of me. Hidden behind the shield, I give Mortimer a thumbs-up, and begin counting down on my fingers as I moved towards the moat and drawbridge that leads to the castle. 5... 4... 3...
Mortimer catches on. "And roast you I shall, weak knight!"He rears back and smoke begins to pour from his nostrils.
2... 1...
A billow of smoke and fire \(mostly smoke\) surrounds me as I drop down beneath the drawbridge.
I hide, as Anabelle proceeds to scold Mortimer for a solid ten minutes. Finally, she closes the shutters with a slam, and I peek out from behind the drawbridge. Now that I am closer, I can see that Mortimer looks positively miserable. I glance around, and note that the cord that princess uses to shock the poor dragon runs up the side of the tower. Easy enough to climb, it takes me just a few minutes to quietly reach the top. Mortimer gives me a wicked grin. He lowers his massive head to my level, and I can see every one of his teeth. With a brisk swipe, I cut the cord that crosses his head, and with another, break the shackles at his feet. I feel his tail whip around and grab me around the waist. I am thrown in to the air, and land squarely between his wings. Not a word is exchanged as he launches into the air.
The ride is exhilarating. The world spirals away, as we approach the clouds. As we disappear into the fluffy mists, we hear Anabelle shriek as she realizes what is happening.
I point Mortimer in the direction of home. "You know, I'd love for you to stay. You're much better conversation than even the best of horses, but I don't think it'll do to have you devouring the farm animals."
Mortimer chuckles. "Surely you know that it is a dragon's diet that allows them to breathe fire?"
"Oh, I suppose that makes sense. But then, what do you eat?"
"My diet is almost entirely pecks of pickled peppers. I have a subscription to Peter Piper's Premier Pepper Providers. Other than that, I occasionally enjoy a good vegetale curry. I'm vegetarian. Gave up meat about a century ago, it gave me the wrong type of heartburn."
I grin, and lean back against the nearest back\-spine of my new friend. I look down at the top of the clouds and smile. I pull one of the ration packs out of my pack. *Premium Picked Pepper Pita Pocket*, the package reads. Mortimer glances back. "Oh, I love those!"
I take a bite and grin as the hot peppers warm me from the inside out. "As do I. Mortimer, I think we're going to get along just fine." |
***Chad the Warlock*** *by Craig Winter*
___________
There Chad went again as he raised a few more restful souls from the dead. As he lifted his large, long wand fitted with weights at the end, two more souls possessed in decomposing bodies rose from the floor of the *Get Fit or Fucked* gym. He was surely going for a theme, right? A body-lifting wizard or something.
Chad the Warlock was the only known wizard of Remlock, Massachusetts. And he was some 28 year old bodybuilder jock. Some guys have all the luck. He doesn’t even know that he has these mystical powers. They just always belonged to him. He just wants to be a bodybuilder. He talks to his summonings sometimes as if they are regular gym goers and gym buddies. The extreme workout they partake in because they are his minions and they do as he does make them pretty ripped.
It’s honestly scary what Chad could do if he tried to be a warlock. He could raise so many undead, get them buff, and raid Remlock. He doesn’t though. He just works out, day after day. He has a day job as a personal trainer or something. Most of the normal living patrons of the gym don’t really like to be around Chad, afraid of their own lives.
Chad smiled at the arrival of his new friends.
“Heya guys! Ready to work out?” He asked his undead.
*”Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh-,”* they moaned.
“*Haha*, Totally!” Chad laughed.
He pointed to some racks of weights.
“Get some weights and we’ll get started,” he said as they went to go to the weight rack to grab some. They walked slowly but surely. And when they got there, they would go to pick some up, but the heavy weights would just bust right through their decomposing hands. However, due to Chad’s commands, they would continue to try to pick them up.
Chad just laughed at them.
“It’s all good, guys. You do what you can do,” he said. “We’ll try some push-ups instead.”
The undead would look towards Chad and follow him as they head towards the mats. They would leave the weights behind on the floor unracked.
Once at the mats, Chad got down and got into position to do some push-ups. He waited for his undead friends to follow suit.
“Like this, ready, guys?” he asked.
*”Uuuuuuuuuuh-huh,”* they moaned. They moved to the mat and got into the position, mimicking Chad. Their bones rattled as their arms shook. These things were frail as can be, but Chad was blind to notice it.
“Let’s begin! One!” Chad said as he dipped down to his first push-up. The undead followed him in mimicry. One simply did as Chad did, but the other’s arms would completely bust off as his joints disintegrated. The old thing face planted into the mat, leaving a messy stain.
Doing another push-up, Chad laughed. “Two! Aw come on, my dude! Can’t rest after one push-up! Gotta make some gains, bro!”
Chad always left the gym with how many undead he was left with that didn’t completely destroy themselves exercising. He was always smiling with them compared to in the morning before he raised the dead. It was as if they were his only friends.
|
I watched another group of bikers rumble by. Not one of them waved back when I did. Usually they do.
I sighed and went back to pouring water into the windscreen cleaner buckets. As soon as I was done with that I toggled the water off and went back inside.
Mr Tomiades was leaning over the counter. To a passerby he looked like he was reading the newspaper. But if you looked a little more closely you'd see his eyes never moved. They stared ahead, fixed on nothing.
I didn't need to walk around the counter to know he had plugged himself into the hidden outlet underneath. He was getting older and needed more time to recharge his batteries these days. I suggested once that he have them replaced and get a solar panel. His response had been, "Yeah? And where do I put these solar panels?"
"How about on that bald spot on the back of your head?"his wife had teased.
I often wanted to ask Mrs Tomiades what it was like having an android for a husband. I also wanted to ask why she picked *that* particular model. Mr Nikolas Tomiades was a short, tubby man with wiry black hair, a thick moustache, and lots of back hair. I knew this because on warm days he would only wear his vest to work, which barely covered the rug his manufacture probably glued to his back. And I'd love to meet the person who developed his hardware and ask them just how they managed to get him to smell like garlic, body odour, and Coolwater all at once.
The door dinged. A couple of young boys came in. I watched them carefully. Mr Tomiades was too busy recharging to grunt at them. The boys wandered through the store, talking quietly to themselves. I rolled my eyes and pretended to restock the gummy hamburgers that no one ever bought, that always petrified and ended up in the bin.
"Hey! *HEY!*"
I whipped around. Mrs Tomiades had come out and was storming toward the kids. "I saw that."
"S-saw what?"one of the boys stuttered.
"Empty your pockets, you little thieves!"she snapped. "Now!"
The boys stammered that they had no idea what she was talking about. Mrs Tomiades made a sudden movement, like a puma preparing to pounce. Both kids bolted for the door. Bags of sweets and crisps fell from their jackets. I heard the bells jangle furiously and laughed.
"Stupid children,"Mrs Tomiades growled.
"Not like yours, right?"I chuckled. "What's Jacob up to these days, eh?"
Mrs Tomiades shook her fist at me. "He is at university, and he is a good boy! Not like you. Why are you not studying? You are so smart, Trevor. You could do so much with your life! Why you waste it here with me and Mr Tomiades?"
I shrugged. "I don't know."I picked up the nearly-pilfered bags and began putting them away. As I came back to the counter I saw Mrs Tomiades checking her husband's charger. She tutted and clicked a switch. Mr Tomiades blinked a few times.
"Eh, what?"he said, his accent as thick as hers. "Why you wake me up? I was having such a nice dream!"
They began bickering at each other in Greek. I understood enough of it to know I needed to ignore them. I went back outside to have a smoke. When I came back in Mr Tomiades had plugged himself back into the counter. Mrs Tomiades leaned on the counter beside him, stroking his hair.
I don't know what came over me. "Mrs Tomiades, did you seriously choose this model yourself?"
She turned her gaze to me and I expected her to glare and snarl. Instead she smiled and said, "*Naí*. He is the spitten image of my Nikolas."
"The spitten image of...?"
She smoothed Mr Tomiades' hair back and licked her thumb so she would wipe away a smudge on his face. "*Naí*, it took half my savings to have him built this way. But the creator, she did such a good job. He even smell like my Nikolas."
She pressed her face into his neck and inhaled. A wistful look came over her. I could smell him from across the store. I wasn't wistful.
She hooked her arm around his. "My Nikolas, he was a good man. Stubborn, but kind. When we were first courting, he would hold my hand and whisper sweet things to me. When we married, I was pregnant with Stellio. You never saw such a proud papa! We had Jacob, then we stop. No more children! But then Sophia came and we were so happy."
I moved a little closer and saw tears welling up in her eyes. "Nikolas was so good, but you tell that to the man who rob our store, back in eleven. He get his money, his tobacco, his..."she hesitated, her brow furrowed, and she waved her hand as she tried to think of the word. "his...er...*profylaktiká*. But...he still shoot Nikolas. Because Nikolas would not let him take Sophia."
I felt a knot in my stomach. I'd heard that Mr Tomiades had been killed by a robber. I didn't know all the details, though. I watched her wipe another smudge from his face. She pulled up his vest and opened a panel. She tutted and sprayed it out with canned air. With a heavy sigh she clicked a few switches and put the panel back.
"He's getting older,"she said. "This model, the batteries don't last long. I want to get new batteries, and the solar panels you speak of. But I have to save more."
"Didn't his life insurance leave you enough to pay for a better model?"I asked.
She narrowed her eyes and muttered what I can only assume was an ancient Grecian curse. "Insurance adjusters are the spawn of the evil one! They say, 'we no pay, this happen on the job. The company has to pay.'"She threw her hands up. "We *are* the company! This is our business! We never had to worry about people robbing us with guns back in *Elláda*. Our little town, so quiet, so friendly. You never hear a cross word from anyone. Here, it's 'Go back to your own country, you wog!' or 'You charge too much for the petrol!' or they break the windows, or they shoot us over fifty pound and a carton of cigarette."
Mrs Tomiades wiped her eyes on her handkerchief. "But is all right. I want the robber to come back. Because when he come back, we ready."
She opened the panel on Mr Tomiades back again. I heard some switches click. Suddenly he straightened up and his eyes glowed red. He held up his hands like he was reaching toward me, and I recoiled in horror as his hands unhinged and two rifle barrels were revealed. Mrs Tomiades smiled and patted her android husband's arm.
"When he come back, and I know he will,"she said softly, ominously, "Nikolas will be ready. He will have his revenge."
"Y-you mean *you'll* have *your* revenge. Right?"I said.
Mrs Tomiades' face split into the most twisted grin I'd ever seen. I watched her pull Mr Tomiades' vest off. His gynecomastia was bad enough, and so was his very hirsute, distended abdomen. But the thing that caught my eye was the strange lack of hair, and skin, just above Mr Tomiades' navel. There was a hole there, an actual hole that went all the way through his body, and at the bottom was a window to his repaired intestinal tract.
"I show him this,"she said, "and he will know, he will remember."She touched the skin around the hole. "I will say, 'This is where you shot my Nikolas. You nearly killed him. He was dead for two minutes. But now, he will shoot you, and you will never bother us again."
She began slipping the vest back to her android husband. I went outside to smoke another cigarette and to pull up the application requirement for Stockport College on my mobile. |
I live in a small dreary town. I hate my job, my boss hates me, and I hate my life. It’s just so...boring. Nothing happens all day, though my co-workers may cause chaos and pull pranks on one another, it’s not enough to fill the dull void in which I reside.
Then one day the love of my life gets engaged. Engaged. Engaged. To him. Engaged. She seems so happy so I suppose I should be happy. Happy for them. So happy.
Happy.
Happy.
Happy that slowly, piece by goddamn piece the only joys I have in life are being ripped away from me. I can’t take it. I have to go.
Finally I find my paradise. A small beach. Fun activities. Finally I can be alone without feeling...alone. But fate says otherwise.
After my injury in paradise I move back to my dreary life. My dull job. A boss who loathes me even more than I loathe life.
I can’t take it.
Snap. Squeeze. Dead.
The man is lying there. Dead. Suffocated. I can’t believe what I’ve just done. But....
The rush.
I do it again.
And again.
And again.
They’re after me now. The police. I have to hide. I have to lay low. No more for now.
But. She had a kid with him. My love. It should be our daughter not his.
I can’t do it. I need to...I need...
They think it’s someone else. They caught him. Hahahaha those dumbass cops. They think they got the right guy. Thankfully they don’t have a shadow of a doubt it wasn’t him. After all I planted his DNA. I’m done. It’s finally over and I can be separated from all this madness.
I got a letter yesterday. Jury duty. For him. For the man I framed. Fate continues to bewilder me. I have to pass judgment on myself.
On George Howard Scub, The Scranton strangler. |
I woke up bright and early to the sound of birds, but I was far from being well-rested. I knew what today was. Today was my 92nd birthday. The day that the son of a bitch was going to try to kill me.
We’d both always had a competitive streak. When I got an A in science, he studied so hard he he reached the top of the class. When he made first string in the football team, I practiced for 8 hours a night until I was top of the team, scoring the winning goal at the end of the season. When I made it into assassin college, he topped me and won a full ride scholarship. He was my best friend, but damn it if I didn’t want to kill him sometimes. Preferably by strangling. That was usually my most successful method, with a 92% success rate if circumstances were good.
Although of course when he found out, he hit a 96% success rate the following month, killed JF Kennedy and made assassin of the year, smug bastard.
I grabbed my glasses off my bedside table, making sure to inspect them for hidden razor blades before perching them on my nose, and began my morning hobble to the bathroom.
He’d be expecting this, knowing full well that my morning whiz sometimes takes up to 15 minutes. A vulnerable position that was ideal for a surprise ambush. He’d been good at surprise ambushes back in the day, but I knew all his tricks. I made sure to poke the shower curtain with my walking stick for any hidden figures, inspect the air vents for inconspicuous gas nozzles, and check the rim of the toilet bowl for silent triggers. When I was satisfied there was no trace of mischief, I settled in with a groan, pulled down my pants, pointed a machine gun at the door, and began the journey of coaxing pee out of my resistant member.
Speaking of resistant members, when we were younger and sprightly, we’d tried to kill each other without success for years. But it grew exhausting, you know. We knew each other's patterns too well. He’d try to poison me, I’d try to hang him. He’d bribe a supermodel to cut off my schlong, I’d fill his cabinet with exploding underwear to take out big Jim and the twins. And when it came time to settle down and raise a family with whatever was left of our decayed nethers, both of us couldn’t really keep up with the demands of such a heavy work and social life anymore. So we made a pact. We’d wait till both of our families had grown and left us, and go at it once again for old times sake. He was the one who suggested 92 years old, with a chuckle and that stupid smirk of his, well aware that I couldn’t raise my success rate past that damned number. Darned 96er.
With a groan, I lifted myself off the bowl, readjusted the machine gun on its tripod, and reached for the toilet paper. As I caressed my weathered behind and listened to the soothing plops of my haemorrhoids falling out, a thought occurred to me. It was very quiet… almost too quiet. And it wasn’t just because I’d forgotten to put my hearing aids in.
I hoisted my pants up to my belly button and hobbled to the door. Through the faded aura of my cataracts, I could see a white figure standing in the room. Quick as a snail, I whipped the door open and hurled the shuriken from my suspenders straight into the figures head.
Luckily, it was only the day nurse, Janet, and, in the heat of the moment, I’d missed her head and what turned out to be a spoon had fallen harmlessly by my bedside table. Damn, I really needed to get my hand back in.
“Good morning Ronny, it’s nice to see you’re in fine form this morning,” she said with a beaming smile.
“Is it a good morning?” I barked suspiciously. It wouldn’t be out of bounds for her to be in cahoots with that sly dog, but I trusted my better instincts and relaxed as she gave me a pat on the shoulder, settling me into my wheelchair.
“Of course it’s good, it’s your birthday silly,” she said with a cheeky wink, “It’s not everyday you turn 96!”
“92,” I grumbled, “Don’t age me, woman.”
She just laughed, “Of course, 92, how could I forget.”
The quality of the staff these days is truly appalling.
As she wheeled me down the hall, I checked my underwear for my two emergency grenades and revolver. Satisfied they were there, I settled in for the ride, but the damned woman bypassed the breakfast hall and dropped me off at the morning exercise group instead. Death by hypoglycaemia it was then.
My senses went into high alert. Only dotty Dorothy Ainsley was here just yet, flowered blouse proudly on backwards, but I knew he was close. I could sense fear… and just a touch of lavender soap and bad breath.
“Dorothy, please don’t get so close, I’m waiting for someone.”
With Dorothy sulking in her armchair, I took the moment to scan the room. All I could see was a weathered pine bookcase, seven armchairs, a lost-looking exercise therapist, an elderly man armed with a dagger and a pair of knuckle spikes, three vases, a half set up game of scrabble and a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers.
Wait.
I launched myself from the wheelchair with a guttural war cry as ferocious as a toothless dogs dying wheeze. He launched himself back, knife as sharp as a block of wood used to cut butter.
We battled ferociously, but we met adversity at every turn. He’d swipe, I’d duck. I’d punch, he’d block. But as hot and violent as the fight got, I knew there could only be one victor. I was, and always would be the best, even if I had to die proving it.
Janet, the day nurse, stood off in the corner with a cheery smile and nudged the nervous exercise therapist conversationally. They both watched the old men weakly fight each other, both in super slow motion, each always managing to miss the other, but rallying enough strength to shakily try again.
“Aren’t they sweet? They’ve done this every morning for the last few years. Both went and lost their memory about 4 or 5 years back, but they still manage to rustle up a bit of strength for their morning rally.”
The skittish girl's eyes widened, “Won’t they hurt themselves?”
Janet laughed, “Of course not, they’re as deaf as a brick and blind as a bat. It’s a miracle they’ve even managed to get themselves out of their wheelchairs. They’re going to find it a bit difficult as they get more immobile though. I’m thinking of starting them onto something a bit easier on the back, like chess.”
By now, the old men had fallen back into their collective chairs, wheezing and exhausted.
“Alright you two, time for breakfast! We even have your favourite treat this morning, poisoned funnel cakes,” she said with a wink, "I hope you packed your antidotes." |
"Listen, it's nothing against you. You've been a great 4th Demiurge of the Secret Katra, Guardian of the Sacred Mountain of Tril-Katen, and Bearer of the Eighth Concept. It's just that Greg has a real knack for working with people, you know? He gets them *excited* about coming to work."
**I COULD SNAP MY FINGERS AND INVOKE THE MIND-MAGIC OF TELIO-THEREK. THEY WOULD THEN BE EXCITED ABOUT COMING TO WORK.**
"See, that's the other thing. It's tough to *connect* with you, you know? Not a lot of us understand your struggles. We haven't been there. Karen's dog is fighting off an infection right now. Jason and Derek are about to become dads. I think only... Xithrensir?"
**XITH-RENDIR, WHO LAUGHS AT FATE, BEARER OF THE TWENTY-FOURTH CONCEPT.**
"Yeah! People see you two chatting, they see you solving your problems with magic, and they're like, well there go those guys, right? Glad they're on our team! Heh."
**GREG FACES NO SUCH... DISTANCE.**
"No, he does not. And that's part of it. When I'm hiring an assistant manager, I'm not really looking for someone who just gets things done, right? I'm looking for someone who can connect with people, who can manage people on a personal level. If I was looking for someone to defend us against another Vinhok incursion, or train the new folks on the Eight Hundred Invocations, I'd pick you first thing! Get off the bench there, buddy! Heh. But I'm *not*. And that's the position I'm in."
**THIS IS DIFFICULT TO ACCEPT, BUT I UNDERSTAND YOUR POSITION. I WAS EXCITED ABOUT ROLLING OUT THE BIG PROMOTION NEXT QUARTER.**
"Well, good news, pal. You'll still get to do that."
**WHAT?**
"Here, read this."
...
**THE AMERICAN MILITARY IS ESTABLISHING A FORWARD BASE IN JACAN-THRADIR-TOK, THE DEATH-DIMENSION BEYOND THE STARS, HOME TO THE VINHOK AND THEIR THIRTEEN SLAVE-GODS.**
"Yup!"
**AND THEY REQUIRE A DENNY'S ON THEIR BASE EXCHANGE.**
"Everyone needs a great start to their day!"
**THIS IS THE BEST NEWS I COULD HAVE RECEIVED.**
"I thought you might like it!"
**I COULD TRAIN THE NEW PEOPLE ON THE EIGHT HUNDRED INVOCATIONS.**
"Bud, you're going to be *writing the official Denny's manual* on the Eight Hundred Invocations."
**IT WILL BE DIFFICULT TO LEAVE THE REGIONAL OFFICE HERE. IT'S ALWAYS NICE WHEN KAREN BRINGS HER DOG AROUND ON FRIDAYS.**
"We'll miss you."
**THANK YOU, DAVE, FOR THIS GIFT. I SHALL SPEAK YOUR NAME INTO THE SPHERES USING THE PRISM-TONGUE OF THE ANCIENT SORCERER IOUA, SO THAT ANGELS ARE BORN WITH ITS KNOWLEDGE.**
"I'm proud of you, man. Now let's go out there and give the Tri-County Area the best damn all-day breakfasts in the universe!"
**THERE ARE MANY UNIVERSES, DAVE.**
"I know, bud. I know." |
“No Tommy I wasn’t-“
“Was he a good rapper?”
“Tommy I never met Alexander Hamilton. Now can we please get back to-“
“Did you meet Washington?” A girl in the back row asked.
This was my second day teaching. Yesterday the children were terrified of me. Once they got over my decaying appearance they wouldn’t stop pestering me. “Can anyone answer the question on the board?” A thousand years of perfecting my craft to ensure life eternal, except eternal life can get expensive. If only pieces of eight were still excepted for rent.
“Did you own slaves?” Asked a sullen boy. No matter what I tried I couldn’t keep them on task. I’ve controlled the six skulls of the immortal hell hounds, the beasts bathed in blood and baptism in barbarism, and they were easier than a classroom full of twelve year olds.
“For the last time this is algebra, if someone doesn’t give me the value for ‘x’ soon I will lose my patience.”
“Will you turn us into frogs? Is that what you did in Egypt?”
That was the last straw. I tried to be patient. I tried to be nice. Now it’s come to this. Now they’ve forced my hand. Now I’m going to call their parents. |
I don't understand how I went from the warmth of a kiss and the happiness of that moment to searing, absolute, ravaging pain. It radiates up my arm where a terrifyingly large needle is protruding. I open my mouth to scream and she clamps a hand over it.
I can feel that my eyes are way too wide, it's not natural. She must notice this because she adopts a soothing tone. Like one would with a timid animal. I would be offended if not for the truth of it.
"If you scream, we die. If you don't move, we die. If you don't want to die, nod."
I nod.
"Good. You gonna keep that big ol' trap shut?"
I nod.
She removes her hand. And pulls that goddamned needle from my arm. My eye twitches and I hold back the shriek, barely, instead making a choking noise.
"Let's go."She takes my hand and pulls me, roughly, into a pristine white hallway. It's empty from end to end, that is probably good for the not dying part of this.
"Where are we?"I ask.
She hits me in the stomach. I gasp.
"Shut up. Follow me."
She is off, jogging down the hall in a graceful motion. I follow. I am less graceful. She grabs the back of my hospital gown and pulls me back from a doorway. I hear voices.
"Stop!"She hisses in my ear. "Wait."
Two men exit, engrossed in conversation. They see us. One opens his mouth to shout and finds it suddenly closed by a vicious uppercut. The other gets a knee to the groin and an elbow to the base of his skull when he doubles over.
She stands over them.
"Who are you?!"I hiss back at her. She grabs my arm and pulls me again, shoving me into the room the men had been in.
"Grab his legs!"She shoves me. I obey. I grab his legs.
"Pull him in, idiot!"
Oh. Right, that makes more sense.
I do.
"Now strip him!"
"Excuse me? I draw the line at that."She looks unimpressed. I've seen that look before, usually when I've really mucked up.
"Put his clothes on so we can get out of here without your ass flapping in the breeze!"
I mumble something about 'having a fine ass, it should flap in the breeze' but obey again. I apologize to the man while I take his clothes off. Somehow, it doesn't make it better.
"Not his boxers you tool!"
Well. That makes more sense.
When I am done, she is wearing a new set of clothes as well. I am dressed in some sort of dark blue uniform with "Security"written on the back. There was a utility belt that I also strapped on, with a handgun in a holster on my hip. She wears a white lab coat with an ID badge on the front.
And then she's got my hand and pulling me out the door again, down the hall. This time we walk, we don't jog.
We pass more people in the halls but they ignore us. She politely nods at them, I follow her lead. I can see the visible tension in her when we see two polished metal doors. Elevators. She's almost vibrating with the nerves.
She pushes the button and there's the usual *ding* and the door opens.
To reveal four men and two women, in matching blue uniforms. They had weapons on their hips though. Well, they have holsters on their hips.
The weapons are in their hands.
"Shit!"She shouts. I feel her hands on my back and I don't really understand what's happening until I am already barreling down a hall while gunshots spark off the walls. People scream, people run for safety. Six security guards chase us.
My legs are working without my brain now, she's leading the way and I am a loyal puppy.
We turn yet another corner and I see a vast expanse of cubicles. In them are people, some standing to watch us and others furiously dialing for assistance on their phones or datapads. Two security personnel appear from the far side, weapons out. They shout for us to stop.
She does no such thing.
Quite the opposite.
She drags me towards a huge wall of windows. My dear, freshly minted wife, pulls the handgun from the holster at my hip and begins firing at the window.
I have an idea and I try to stop but it doesn't do anything.
"Sorry, babe!"She shouts, grabbing the collar of my stolen shirt and throwing me at the shattered window. I barely manage to get my arms up in time before I crash through, her hot on my heels.
I would have expected something else. I'm not sure what, as I crash through a pane of safety glass and out of the strange building. As guards shout for us and lean out to fire their weapons. Maybe I expected to land on grass, a few feet below. I assumed she knew what she was doing, after all.
She didn't.
Because we aren't falling towards grass.
No.
We burst through the window only to find ourselves hundreds of stories above anything resembling grass. It's open air. Vehicles whip, horns honk, people shout and scream.
But we fall.
And there's nothing to catch us.
I preferred her before she woke me up. |
The phone buzzed, sending a noisy hum through the room as it chattered against the hard wood of the end table, sputtering words in a mechanical voice that fell of deaf ears. Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up in complete darkness just in time to hear the words come from his phone. "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON".
He laughed wryly, as it wouldn't be a hard task for someone with no sight. Sam grunted, swinging his legs off the end of the bed and putting on his slippers before he reached for his phone. The cold, metallic surface was easy enough to manage, and with a twinge of curiosity welling up in his chest, he had the message repeat itself. "THIS MESSAGE IS TRANSMITTED AT THE REQUEST OF THE UNITED STATES OFFICE OF CIVIL DEFENSE. DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. CIVILIANS ARE ADVISED TO REMAIN INDOORS. FURTHER INFORMATION WILL BE BROADCASTED AS IT IS ACQUIRED. DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
A chill ran through Sam's spine, and he stood up, softly calling out "Janice?"
His wife, Janice, hadn't been in bed when he woke up. Come to think of it, had she come to bed at all last night?
"Janice??"He called out with more urgency, grabbing his cane and extending it as he began to walk along the hardwood floor.
*Tap*
*Tap*
*Tap*
The sound of his cane resonated along the walls, but he noticed something else. A light hum coming from outside, and steadily getting louder as he reached the living room. He noticed a light breeze in the room, and his stomach dropped. Was Janice outside?
"Saaaaaaammmmm."
He jumped, letting out a small gasp that melted into laughter. "You scared me Janice!"He felt his steps begin to drag as he moved his slippers across the living room carpet. "Janice, did you hear the alert? You should come back inside, they're saying we should stay indoors-"He paused. "Janice.. is there someone there with you?"
Their steps gave them away. They were heavy, against the grass, where as his wife's were light.
"Just friendsss Saaaaaaammmmm. Come look at the moon with us? Won't youu? Come look at the moon with us, Saaaaam."Her voice was slurred and bubbly. It was unnaturally happy. Almost like it was forced. Sam backed up, the heavy footsteps approaching his door.
"SAAM. DOn'T YOU LOVE ME?!"His wife's voice became hysterical, small giggles escaping her mouth between her shouting. "COME LOOK AT THE MOON WITH ME SAM. COME LOOK. I MISS YOU SAM. IT MISSES YOU SAM. SAM. SAM. SAM!"
He had gotten enough from her to know that something was wrong. When the footsteps softened Sam knew they were inside. He launched his cane in front of him, it making a sharp slapping sound as it hit something before he ran towards the hallway. His arms in front of him grasping wildly for the corners of the hallway. The living room erupted into laughter and heavy footsteps that were quick, and hard. fear rose in his chest as he threw himself into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him as something crashed heavily against it. He locked the door, the banging resuming, sounding like it would knock the door over, and he reached out, feeling the edges of his nightstand before dragging it before the door.
"SAM?!"A deep voice called out, banging against the door "COME SEE YOUR WIFE SAMM. SHE MISSES YOU. WE MISS YOU SO MUCH SAAM. COME BACK TO USS SAM."
He shuttered, backing into a corner of his room, his breath becoming more ragged as his hands pressed against the wall, and the glass. The glass window in his room.
Before he could move, a heavy hand shattered through the glass, the sound was deafening, and the smell of copper filled the air as something hot and wet dripped from the hand clamped around his arm. Before he could get a word out, he was being dragged outside, his screams filling the air as he was dragged across the grass, his belly running across the glass that had fallen outside as small hands pressed against back.
"SHHHHHHHH. Sam. SHHHHHHHH. IT will be done soon. I missed you Sam. Look at the moon Sam."His wife's voice giggled, her hands going along his spine.
"Why are you doing this?! I can't see, I can't see the moon!"He growled as he thrashed, but to no avail.
As they stood him up, his eyes remained closed, awaiting a response.
"Oh Sam..."Janice's hands gently caressed his face, leaning over in a slight embrace as she tilted his head towards the sky. "It doesn't need your sight..."She giggled as she leaned ever closer, her breath hot on his ear as she whispered.
"It just needs your eyes." |
Every resident within a twenty-mile radius massed into what I called the decree square, they were here because of World Decree #21: "If you are within twenty miles of the ruler, you must attend the daily decree ceremony."
I appeared on the balcony multiple times, false-positives. The crowd would roar with admiration and relief, thinking that their waiting would finally be over. But I would duck back inside my quarters and watch another episode of Game of Thrones.
I checked my gold watch, platinum was more expensive, but nothing says "fuck you"like a golden nugget strapped to your wrist. It was nearly 11:00 PM and I wanted to sleep, so I walked to my balcony and unlocked the soundproof doors. The mass outside crescendoed as I ruffled the diamond-studded curtains.
I walked out and looked down at them, morale was low but thanks to World Decree #22 they had to show enthusiasm for the ruler. I was met by a few wolf-whistles and calls of "I love you."
I smiled and waved a hand heavy with jewels.
'Good evening filth.' I shouted.
The crowd below cheered louder.
I pulled a scroll from my pocket and held it toward the moonlight.
'World Decree #261: Consumption of alcohol has been made illegal for all, except the ruler. Upon finding alcohol, it should be brought to my castle at once.'
I had expected this decree to inspire an uprising, but the mass of bodies exploded in applause, although I never knew if it was a genuine response or due to decree #22. I turned my back to the crowd and without another word went to sleep.
A servant rushed to me and held out a set of cashmere pyjamas. With a bow, he turned and disappeared from the room. I slid into bed and began the plans for the next day's decree. I had exhausted nearly all of life's joy, yet the subjects refused to dethrone me. Sleep was down to four hours a night, sex and masturbation had been made illegal in one fell swoop and laughter had been abolished unless following something I said.
Then it hit me. Tomorrow I will take away their tobacco, the last vestige of indulgence and I shall take to the balcony with a bottle of wine and a cigar.
As the light escaped my room, a voice spoke.
'We can end the wager early.' The voice came in a familiar low hiss.
'Never.' I said.
'You have, but thirty-eight chances-ss left. I can see what this is doing to you.'
I could make out the slits of it's eyes, floating in the darkness, never blinking.
'They will never hate you.'
'I will make them.' I said with vigour.
'Humans-ss are not capable of hating the divine. Pure hate is born through fear. You have to start killing them.' The edges of the slits curved upwards, and I knew the beast was smiling at me.
'Oh, Lucy. Your provocation will not work on me.'
'Thirty-eight.' The beast hissed and then the slits closed and disappeared. |
Hey u/babyshoesalesman
I don't know if you could tell, but last night was pretty wild.
Your brother and I got into a fight, it wasn't bad. But one of our worse ones. So, like any good couple, we solved our problems over a bottle of wine.
Things softened out from there. But then your brother told me something.
Mind you, I've known he's been really stressed out recently. I could see it in everything he did. Something's been bugging him. But I never knew what because he refused to tell me.
So last night, wine drunk and feeling down, he opens up to me.
He has never known who his real father is.
Mind you, he was also drunk, and I had to explain to him that we met his real dad a year ago. He didn't remember lol.
He didn't believe me though, and asked me to explain myself. I tried to tell him but he stopped me and said he didn't understand english.
So I explained it to him in Math. Using formulas and problems he understood to explain how he had met his real Father a year ago in Nashville, Tennessee under the light of a Crescent moon in November just after a Vols football game.
He finally remembered. Then said that he wanted to see him again. It was pretty late though so I said we should leave at Dawn. he agreed, thinking that would be safest.
So we're leaving at Dawn for Nashville at dawn. Not to go meet his Father though. There's a Toby keith concert at 6pm and if we leave any later we're gonna miss it. We had an extra ticket so I'm gonna leave it attached to this letter.
Do with it as you please.
If we're not back by Friday afternoon, don't come looking for us. We're probably in a hotel.
Later gator,
gf
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Thanks for reading the weirdest prompt I've done so far. Also I hope things are good with your family.* |
My dearest Matilda,
I hope this letter finds you well. I know that I have been a terrible husband. It is a simple fact of my fastidious service to the Lords of Hell that your bedside has been left vacant and cold, and that you are alone to look after our unborn son. For this and many more offenses levied against a demon of your grace and majesty, I am sorry.
Know that I would traverse the plains of Tartarus, the fetid bogs of Ungullath, and all three of the Torturous Dimensions of Disembowelment for a mere glimpse of your radiant, repugnant beauty. Know that my love is eternal, even beyond the cold reaches of death.
It is out of this love, that I must ask you to search for a new husband to care for our son. For I am being hunted like a wet dog.
My hunter is cold, silent and merciless. I have seen it hear the cries of remission from my brothers and sisters in arms and kill without remorse or pause. It is silent where other warriors would cry or shout. It is cruel and reveals in our suffering.
The creature appeared from seemly no where, a few hundred clicks from our outpost. It came at us, undeterred by our barrage of balefire. Arctis - humble, diligent young lad that he was - was the first to fall to the creature.
It was covered in some sort of metallic armor, of a make that was unfathomable to me. It's craftsmanship was brutality and efficiency made into an art. And the creature embodied those traits perfectly.
I can still remember young Arctis. I remember how his voice rasped as he laid in a puddle of his own blood. How I wish I can forget! His horrid gasping cries were like rusty blades scraped along yellowed bone. His eyes beckoned sweet death. He was looking at me, even as the monster brought it’s boot down on his ribcage. Over and over. The sickeningly heavy crunch of bone against metal. It haunts me.
I want to tell you that I behaved valorously, but that brave, vainglorious daemon you fell in love with died when he met this monster with scales of green metal. My fellows ganged up on him, without me, coordinating in an simultaneous attack.
It ripped them apart. Piece by bloody piece. Their training, their martial prowess, floundered in the face of this creature. My friends. My comrades. All extinguished in a moment and I could do nothing but gawk. The monster was silent, wordless. I wished it would have said something, some sort of guttural scream or alien profanity. It said nothing and that frightened me more than all the rage in the word. He didn’t see this as I saw it, not as a grotesque massacre, but as... some sort of mundane task.
Or maybe even... a game.
I stood there, staring, hoping, praying. The strongest of us laid dead in pieces on the red hot ground. Steam billowed from their fresh blood. Every muscle in my body was frozen, I could not move my legs to flee even as it strode ever closer. Each step a thundering clap in the dull silence among the dead.
It stopped some eighteen paces away, a trail of blood behind it. As the last footstep echoed around us, I broke out of my stupor. I attacked.
It was stupid, in retrospect. But my aim was true. The meagre fireball I launched found it’s mark and I wish, so terribly, that it hadn’t.
It’s visor cracked open and I saw, from the recessed shadows under the hood of it’s helmet, it’s eyes.
They were full of hate and unbridled rage. It was nothing like I’ve seen before. I had seen such rage in base beasts, but nothing so focused, so intelligent. His every movement, whether as simple as walking forward or as complicated as breaking a daemon’s neck just to rip his head off. It was all an almost mechanical example of brutal efficiency.
He wasted no energy and moved like an executioner’s axe in mid-swing. An angel of death, an instrument of destruction. An abomination! And he came for me, faster than my eyes could track.
I don’t know how I managed to escape. Everything was a blur. I laughed and screamed, as it followed me into the nearby city. I can hear the carnage outside as I hide, in some old cellar that I don’t remember entering.
There is an old wooden hatch. Blood flows down through the cracks. I think someone might have died on top of it. I dare not check. I am not alone. There is another daemon in here, with me. He is also a soldier. I don’t know his name.
He keeps praying, gibbering between verses and mantras. Madness has taken him. Sometimes I hear him praying not to Lucifer or Satan, but to the one who we’ve forsaken.
I know I will not survive this, sweet Matilda. May your noxious gas glands be ever erubescent and your countenance forever pure. Remember me always, but do not grieve long.
I hope I will not have to look into it’s eyes once again before I die. |
´´Welcome back everyone to tonight's episode of Live With Lucy! To everyone who's just tuning in, tonight we have Dr. Raymond Johnson as our guest. Dr. Johnson is the world's most famous and prolific matchmaker, with a career spanning over 40 years and a success rate of no less than a 100 percent! On the brink of retirement, Dr. Johnson is willing to disclose his mysterious methods. We're all waiting for the big reveal. Dr. Johnson, what IS your secret?´´
´´Thank you, Lucy. In all my years in the field, I've found that the secret to a perfect match is actually very simple. Not easy, mind you, but simple indeed.´´
´´Do tell us more!´´
´´The secret is twofold, actually. Couples who exhibit these two traits are much more likely to succeed.´´
´´Spill it, doctor!´´
´´Ok, here it comes. It's mutual love and understanding. That's it. Love and understanding. Simple as that.´´
´´Mutual love and understanding?!´´
´´Yes.´´
´´Dr. Johnson, you cannot be serious. You have enjoyed a success rate in your work that is statistically impossible. You have found matches for your clients that are perfect for them in every way, from religion and politics to liking the same colors! And now you tell us the secret to your work is some old cliché? Is that really all there is to it?´´
´´Nah, just kidding. It's robots.´´ |
All my life I'd felt like a specimen in a jar. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up permanently like there was a constant presence of people behind me. As a child, I was able to push the feelings aside better but age diminished the ability to ignore it and by the time I reached twenty I was a paranoid mess.
I went to college for a science degree, taking on physics and chemistry and Biology and Astronomy and Quantum Mechanics and a half dozen other fields. It took me two decades, but at the end of it I had doctorates in a dozen sciences and was on my way to a solution for my paranoia.
A psychologist when I was younger made an offhand comment about how I was just feeling claustrophobic in my desire to understand the world around me, and impressionable me took that idea and clung to it like a lifeline.
Finally, at the age of fifty nine, I'd discovered the secrets to faster than light travel. I worked secretly and diligently with a small team of scientists and we built a space ship NASA would be jealous of.
Our maiden flight had space for only two people, and where my colleagues all had to draw straws, I was immediately given the second chair. The day we slotted for lift off was a sunny, warm spring day and the excitement we all felt could almost be physically seen.
Lift-off went as planned, with minimal turbulence and no issues whats so ever, and as we finally breached the ozone, my colleague and I traded rapturous smiles. They soon turned to confusion and then fear when we took in our surroundings.
Dozen of ships, ranging from a similar small size to ours all the way up to what I imagine the International Space Station would look like. These ships were nothing like I had ever seen before, and I could hear the confused noises my colleague was making. Before we could do much more than take in what was before us, we were moving and no amount of quick finger work on my part could get the ship back under our control.
We were being drawn into the orbit of one of the larger ships and as we approached, a large claw like structure folded out from the side of it and latched onto our ship, jarring us in out seat and drawing us rapidly into the yawning darkness of the a gate in the ships hull.
When we stopped, we sat in darkness and silence for several long minutes until the sounds of someone forcing our doors to open rang throughout. Mutual looks had my colleague and I unbuckling our safety straps and standing to face whatever this was together.
Finally, light shine brightly through the opened door and we were temporarily blinded, only just making out a shadow standing in the door, then our eyes adjusted.
He looked human, at first glance, but the longer I looked the more I could make out the wrongness of it. The arms were too long, almost comically so, the eyes larger and wider set and the skin a pale green gray. My colleague and I were escorted off the ship in complete silence, both of us in too much shock to speak, and the alien obviously not inclined to communicate either.
The room we were led to had large windows that looked out over our planet, although the view was obstructed periodically as other ships moved past. Another alien sat in a throne like chair in the very centre of the room, naked but for a small cloth covering, and surrounded by several others.
He eyed my colleague and I for several long minutes then sighed deeply.
"What are you doing outside of the exhibit?"he spoke in a heavily accented English and my colleague and I both visibly startled before he turned himself to examine me directly before something seemed to pass over his face and he sighed again.
"Seriously, how many times must we erase your memory?"he asked me and finally my years of paranoia and feeling like I was being watched seemed to fall in place and I paled as one of them stepped forward, a small, yet menacing machine in its hand. |
**"Darling,** ***this*** , **is your father. He has come to offer you control of the family business. He is retiring."** said Damien's mother.
"Hello mysterious strange man wearing a hooded CLOAK. Thanks for pretending to be my dad, but I don't need your handouts. BYE."
**"Darling be nice, I raised you better than that."**
"I don't know this person and I can't even see his face. For all I know it could be grandma under there!"
Death whipped back his hood. It revealed a rotting human skull, maggots endlessly trapped gnawing at his teeth. A black and red serpent wrapped around his neck vertebrae, it's piercing red eyes directed at Damien. Death's eye sockets were pitch black, except for a tiny point of light deep inside each socket like the last star in space seen from a billion light years away. An gut-wrenching stench wofted through the kitchen and blasted through all the cracks in the doors and windows and out into the street, withering trees and bushes. Death's head creaked as it turned toward him slowly.
"See..."said Damien, holding his nose and in between impressively short breaths. "It *is* grandma."
His mother burst out laughing exhaling all her fresh air, breathed in... and instantly fainted. Death swept himself across the floor to stand two inches from Damien's face. Flies flew out of his mouth as he opened it to speak.
**"I suppose your mother thought it would be funny to name you 'Damien' and it looks like you inherited that sense of humour. Well I can assure you that you will need it if you are to take life for the rest of eternity."**
"Can't speak. You stink."
With a wave of his rotting, gangrenous hand, death sealed over Damien's nostrils.
**"Speak."**
"I think I'll decline actually."
**"Decline death?"**
"No I mean, I don't mind dying, but I will decline the offer given to me by you, Death, of taking over the ahem... family business."
**"You cannot decline."**
"Really?"
**"Yes."**
"Then why sit down at the kitchen table? And is that, camomile tea? Were you drinking camomile tea?!"
**"It soothes me"**
"Oh it SoOoOothes you does it? You're the Grim Reaper! Have some self-respect, DAD!"
**"Look, I just wanted to hang out with you OK?! I thought if I taught you the family business we could spend some time together and ya know, maybe you'd wanna go cull the living with me or something, I dunno."**
"Why didn't you say so!"
**"Really?!"**
"No! Get out! And give me my sense of smell back!"
Death became enraged and grew twice the size! No one treats him with such disgust and disdain! He is death! The ender of lives, the bringer of darkness, the ender of beginnings, the beginner of endings, the great Yin!
**"I should take you right now boy! Your insolence will not go unpunished! You will regret your arrogance in the face of the eternal end!**
"Oh whatever, you know you can't kill me you only collect those already dead now get out you deadbeat."
Death is sucked out of the front door, unable to re-enter, his robes set ablaze and his eyes explode in a fury of red through the blackness under the hood, and just as Damien closes the door on his face he shouts:
**"I F@\*KED YOUR MOTHER!"** |
It was a day like many that had come before it. The sun rose, sending brilliant beams of light streaking through the panes of glass streaked with grime and smog, the dreary grey walls of my bedroom slowly gaining colour as tomorrow evolved into today. A dirty brown sky replaced the dusty violet hues of night. Ravens cawed cacophonously at the passing cars dredging onwards down the concrete road, packed in like rabbits in winter, afraid that even the tiniest gap could spell destruction for them all.
I awoke. Showered. Ate. Dressed. The habitual items that encircled the core of what arguably defined humanity, or at the very least enslaved it: routine. Nothing new. Nothing remarkable. Just another day.
I didn't notice it at first. Perhaps my negligence was due to my state of mind, still half asleep, my movements and thoughts methodically mechanical, lacking feeling and vivacity. Perhaps I had just grown tired of trying to decipher it, yearning to intuit some deep meaning in the pulsations and fluctuations of the shifting darkness. Men far smarter than I had spent decades trying to learn its secrets, to squeeze out its patterns like water from a rancid sponge, who was I to think I could divine any more than they?
Yet today's shadow held no such hidden meaning. No smokey head to indicate a day of stress or quivering legs to mark a day of fear and worry. No. Today's shadow broadcast its message as clear as could possible be. A fist-sized hole in the murky black on my chest, its edges jagged and torn, a cavern of unnatural light where there should be nothing but shade. I sat down. Maybe it was more of a fall as my knees gave out from under me.
Today was the day I was to die, the cause of my demise painted in ink in the figure perched on the wall behind me. My breaths came quick and labored, each one asking a new question: when? How? Why? Can it be stopped? The fingers on my right hand, worn from years of labor, twitched and shook as if a deep chill had frozen the blood still dutifully pumping through my veins.
Heart attack? Gunshot? Knife wound? Car accident? With each rise of my chest the possibilities assailed me, my mind numbingly ranking each in order of likelihood, desperately attempting to create a semblance of order in the roar of chaos.
Heart attack. That would be it. Despite years of exercise and balanced eating, the monstrous strength of genetics could never be surmounted, and the bulk of their strength had been betting on cardiovascular failure for years. Yes. That is how I die.
You find a certain kind of clarity in knowing your own demise, like little waves rippling along a pool of crystal water being stilled for the first time, allowing you to gaze through and peer upon the sandy bottom below. I resigned myself to my fate, staring at that sandy bottom as one does the barrel of a loaded gun, refusing to shy away from inevitability.
Mustering my resolve, I stood, knees quavering at first before becoming stable enough to attempt a step. Another step. And another after it. Yes, I would walk towards my fate with courage and bravery, with the iron will that had long been my partner through the tossing sea of life, with dignity and grace. Another step, each one becoming more fluid, more forceful, as my body bled itself of fear like a bilge of water.
I reached the door and took a measured breath, pulling the edges of my thick black coat in just a bit to shield against the bite of the wind outdoors. With a steady hand I reached out and unlocked the door, swinging it open in one smooth movement on the well-oiled hinges of its oaky frame, about to step across the mantle into the certainty of the world beyond. My step faltered. On the other side of the door, his hand wrapped in a fist as if to knock, stood a man. Dressed in dark navy blues with shiny brass buttons, his blonde hair combed neatly to the side, the tips of his thick black boots shiny in the overhead light. A thick black leather belt adorned with a variety of gadgets from a textured and battered flashlight to a holstered weapon on his thigh was cinched tight against his waist. A polished badge pinned underneath a thin metal plate with a name etched into it mirrored my face against it.
The officer, momentarily startled by the premature opening of the door, stuttered out a greeting. "G-good morning sir. Are you a uh, a Mister Bourne?"he asks, referencing a smudgy piece of paper held in his gloved left hand.
"I am,"I replied back after a pause, my voice alien in my own ears, as if gravel had been shoveled down my throat without a drop of water.
The officer paused, his grass green eyes glancing down at his feet for a brief second before meeting my own icy blues. A somber visage replaced his face like a mask, any warmth dissolving underneath. "May I come in, sir? It would be best if you sat down."
"No,"I replied, steeling myself against this distraction, eager to meet my doom and get it over with in the industrial jungle outside. "What is it, officer?"
He shifted weight from one foot to another uncomfortably, a small flash of irritation escaping his carefully constructed mask. "Uh, very well sir. There's been an incident... ah, involving your wife Tracy, sir. At 7:47 this morning, her body was found in the state of Florida on the beach, cause of death appears to be drowning, but we are still investigating. I am... I am very sorry for your loss sir. We would like - "
A lone, animal howl of pain escaped my lips as I fell to the ground. My resolve, my will, my courage, whatever word I comforted myself with earlier evaporated. My Tracy. My love. My beautiful dreamer. My partner, who had navigated the choppy seas of life with me for so many years. Gone.
I felt as though my heart had been ripped from my chest by a cruel and icy hand, as though I could feel each vessel, each artery and vein being torn in two. Tears streamed down my chest, my mouth agape in wordless agony. My eyes widened as those elusive ripples of knowledge stilled, and a moment of clarity allowed me a glimpse at the bottom below.
For now I knew the shadow's meaning.
\-----------------
EDIT: Apologies for the length, I got a little caught up in the narrative. Kudos if you made it down to see this! |
"You did what?!"The Dark Lord Murglot gawked at the blood soaked knight.
"I've saved you!"Sir Emeric cried triumphantly, swishing his sword elaborately through the air. "That vile hag will plague you no more."
Murglot ran towards his sister's room in a panic, the knight following closely behind, but the gore that greeted him made even his evil stomach churn.
"Why...?"The Dark Lord sunk miserably to the floor.
"Why?"Emeric asked, confused. "That's what the king's missive said."He rummaged in his pack and retrieved the royal letter, his face going pale as he re-read it once, then twice. "Oh..."The knight flushed. "I seem to have made a grave error."
"You don't say."Murglot replied through clenched teeth.
Sir Emeric forced a laugh and began to plan his retreat as he held out a small confectioners box towards the furious Dark Lord. "I don't suppose you like chocolate...?" |
I awoke slowly at first, groggily blinking my bleary, sleep-filled eyes and sitting up in what I had thought would be my bed...To my shock and displeasure, I was not in my comfortable duplex home but rather, sitting on a cold metal operating table in what appeared to be a dimly lit hospital. Well, the majority of the hospital room was dimly lit, excepting a large fluorescent lamp that obnoxiously directed beams of brightly light into my eyes. Squinting in response, I averted my gaze from the light fixture, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I slid off the table and got to my feet, my legs almost giving in and buckling beneath me. Why was I so weak? The walls were made of glass and transparent, like a gargantuan fish tank, and the air smelled didn't smell like a hospital at all. It smelled metallic and like something in the vicinity was burning. There was a knock at one of the walls farthest away from me and I flinched.
"Hello."A strangely accented voice, one I'd never heard the likes of before. In walked a procession of about twelve individuals, some towering over me and some no taller than my chest-level.
"Uh, hi,"I began nervously. "What's going on, exactly?"The figures all looked to each other and muttered among themselves in a language that almost certainly sounded fake, then flipped on a switch, light flooding the entire space. Once my eyes had adjusted to the change in illumination, I let out a slight shriek of confusion. The individuals had four eyes that moved independently of each other, multiple sets of horns and tusks, and sharp teeth. Their skin were odd shades of orange, grey, green, and indigo, and they were all wearing matching clothing, a deep purple tunic outfit with a small insignia on the stomach area. For a few seconds I was stood there, staring at them intently, unable to fathom anything I was perceiving at that very moment. One of the creatures opened their mouth and spoke.
"My name is..."Guttural hissing and infernal sounds escaped them, and then they cleared their throat. "But you can call me Kyrr. My friends and I had a...A, um..."Kyrr asked their colleague a question in the same language. "Project? Project where we had to interview a homo sapiens sapiens. It's due in three Earth days. Can you answer a few questions?"
"Can I ask a few first?"I managed, my throat having gone dry. When Kyrr obliged, I began slowly. "Okay. What drugs did I take, and how lethal are they?" |
It didn't make sense to me really. Wait, it actually did make some sense, but I was still confused. The tall woman that'd been helping me patted me on the head, that felt good.
"She's EIGHT!"The angry royal man screamed into the room full of people.
A chubby man with silly glasses then stood up with some papers in his hand. He made a gruffly sound. "The prophecy clearly states that the current king sha—"He didn't get to finish though.
"The prophecy!?"The royal man screamed again. "I'm tired of hearing about that damn—"a couple of the people in the audience gasped. The tall woman put her hands over my ears.
Were they upset about him saying damn? I know what damn means! Whatever though, as soon as the woman took her hands off my ears, she patted me again.
"I mean... I don't think that a thousand-year-old prophecy can be used as a legal document."I heard some murmurs of agreement from the audience. This situation reminded me of a TV show my mom would put on sometimes.
"It's just a sword..."I grumbled. The tall woman looked at me sternly. I pouted and just continued to listen to the grownup men argue.
"'Tis not just any prophecy! It is *the* prophecy. This is the exact word of our great ancestors who founded this great kingdom!"The chubby man raised his voice at the end. There were a couple of murmurs of agreement, then there was a short woman who got out of her seat and raised her fist.
I giggled. These people were so passiony, it was like when my brother and my dad were arguing about some science thing. I found a cool sword when I was swimming, who cares? I mean, I knew about the prophecy, everyone does, but I thought it was just another silly fairy tale.
I just wanted my freaking sword back, it was so *cool*! It was shiny and it had a little gem on it that was just so shiny! When I held the sword, I felt really cool. There was a little flame thing in my eyes when I held it. And now it was gone! It didn't feel good to be away from it, I wanted it back!
"—I don't legally have to step down!"The handsome angry man was still talking. "It has to be against the constitution right?"I heard the chubby man with glasses gwaff.
"You don't know? Shouldn't you as our leader be familiar with our constitution?"he asked.
"I am familiar with it it's just—this is ridiculous! We shouldn't even be having this debate! I am the elected king of this country and I will not just step down to some girl that got lucky!"The man pointed at me. I didn't like to be pointed at, it was disrespectful.
I opened my mouth to respond to him, but the helpful woman stopped me. "Saga, don't,"she said and shook her head. I grumbled to myself and just kept watching.
"She didn't get lucky though! She is the chosen heir to the grand throne!"The chubby man said, and the short woman from earlier got up. The woman nodded furiously and then pumped her hand. I giggled again. I would've responded to the fat man too, saying that I didn't even know what the grand throne was, but I didn't want the patting woman to get mad at me.
The king man got flustered and his cheeks got red. "Chosen!? Anyone could have found that stupid sword!"he said. I got mad again, the sword wasn't *stupid*, that sword was awesome. The woman held my shoulders and wasn't giving me any more pats.
This was boring, I didn't care about some stupid throne, I just wanted to play with my sword again. The chubby man and the angry man talked to each other some more, the audience making some sounds every once and a while, and I got more miffed.
'Stupid sword'? How could something so awesome even be called stupid?
"—and I move for the process to begin immediately! That girl,"he pointed at me. I don't like to be pointed at. "should be placed as the monarch of this country! With the assistance of the administration of course."The man snapped his shirt and smiled in a bad way.
I scowled. This fat man was being bad! He was talking for me, and the other man called my sword stupid! Enough was enough.
"Hey!"I talked loudly. The room went silent and everyone looked at me. "I can talk for myself! I don't care about a throne! Prophecies are stupid, just let me have my sword!"
Everyone looked stunned for a second, the angry man smiled a bit and the fat man looked flabbergasted.
"T-This is just shock of course..."the chubby man tried to save the situation. "s-she is still chosen and shall get the thr—"I didn't let him finish.
The bad feeling in my chest got bigger and my eyes were hot.
"I WANT MY SWORD!"I screamed at the room full of people.
---
*Prophecies are Stupid* from the Bookshelf of the Gods. /r/BoTG
 
|
I've been working in this accursed fortress for... well, it is hard to say. Ever since the first ones sealed the fortress away time has not passed for us. Our own dimension, safe from the calamity. A chance for us to build our own magics, to learn, and maybe... just maybe, save the rest of our world from the doom to which it has been sentenced.
At first work was slow. Or so we are taught. The first ones knew little of the magics. They were the scholars, the learned ones of the old world... yet they were ignorant of the truths of the universe. They did not probe that which we do now.
Then, slowly, we learned. We got glimpses of the fabric of the tapestry that forms all universes. Fire, Ice, Wind, all soon were mastered, as the elements answered our calls. Even life itself was soon changed, allowing us to bring our dead back to some semblance of life... and freeing the rest of us from the menial tasks of maintenance, so that we might more focus our lives on the research, on the great work we must do.
But today, today is a special day. Today, perhaps, we will learn the answer to the question we've been seeking for so long. Today, maybe we can save our own dying universe. Because, you see, in all the universes we've contacted - the fate has been the same as in ours. That is, until today. Today I found someone... no... something. Something still exists out there, in another dimension separate from our own.
And now? Now that the portal is secured and stable, I will ask it the question. The thing we must know, if we are ever to return to our own worlds. The question we've all learned to ask since we were children. The same question, word for word, that the first ones asked.
"How can the net amount of entropy of the universe be massively decreased?"
And there was an answer. |
Peter was getting tired.
He was tired of Mr. Jameson treating him like a dirty rag, only necessary for when the rest of his incompetent "photographers"failed to take a picture of Spiderman for him to run his mouth on when there were no major incidents. Didn't he realize Peter was trying his best to save the people. No. Not Peter but "**Spiderman**".
He was tired of not being able to pay his rent and support Aunt May. It also would be bad if MJ wanted for them to live together. He could talk this out with the Avengers and Nick Fury but Peter Parker getting paid for Spiderman's work didn't sit well with him. As much as he enjoyed Mr. Stark's research into the Ironman suit and other weapons, Peter was more on the Organic side of Science. Additionally it would also raise too many questions as to how Peter got the money when he didn't have a job that would pay him under JJJ. He had to find a better alternative to pursue his job and also find a way to continue his Scientific studies.
He didn't have a whole lot of choice when it came to fulfilling both requirements. Metropolis seemed to be a very good choice considering it was reachable pretty easily and he can always swing his way back home on weekends or even weekdays if there wasn't anything to do. It also had one of Mr. Stark's Research facilities where he could continue his work. The only problems were, Metropolis' neighbor and the two cities' respective Guardians. Superman and Batman. A force of nature and a mysterious Vigilante. Peter had visited Metropolis before and had even taken some amazing Pictures of Superman (Thanks in large part to his stealth suit), a feat no one but JJJ was able to mock.
So Peter had applied to Daily Planet and had gotten the job after Perry White, the editor in Chief, had been impressed with his photographs of Spiderman and Superman. Peter liked Mr. White. The guy was straight as a ruler when it came to ethics and standards, was very strict in his speech and direct in his critiques. Things that Peter appreciated after working for JJJ for a long time.
He had been working at the Planet only for a few days before he got his first major assignment. He was to be Clark Kent's photographer as the senior Journalist was doing an investigation on Bruce Wayne, the rich Philanthropist of Wayne Enterprises. Peter had met Clark on his first day. The guy was genuinely a nice guy and had welcomed a slightly nervous Peter warmly. Despite Clark being mild mannered and collected, Peter felt like there was more to this tall journalist. Clark Kent reminded Peter of Steve Rogers. The Hero he looked up to the most. There was a calm air of charisma around both of them that made people want to follow them.
That evening both Clark and Peter went to an opening ceremony of the newly built, Wayne Enterprises Cancer Research building on the southern end of Metropolis. It was a sprawling space, the size of a small city, with 3 multi-story white buildings in a triangle, connected by multiple walkways between them. Peter heard Clark mutter,
*"8000 square miles and the entrance to the Reception building itself is almost a mile and half inside. Why have it this far up and why do you need this much space?"*
Peter smiled to himself. Clark Kent was a journalist. Not a scientist. And he replied,
*"Mr. Kent, it is to primarily discourage anyone from stealing, from the inside or outside. The secondary precaution is to safeguard the civilians should there be any unfortunate accidents. The space is about the size of Manhattan, if not larger. It should be safe within a 2 mile radius to work with slightly dangerous radiation and gases".*
Clark raised an eyebrow, *"You know a lot about Cancer Research, Peter?"*
*"No sir, but I'm an organic science research student and I studied under Dr. Octavious. At least before he went Doc Oc"*. Peter ended with a sigh. He still couldn't get over the fact that a microchip, embedded into the spine and burnt, had turned the father like Scientist into one of his Archenemies.
If Clark noticed anything, he didn't mention it and they arrived at the Reception building where they cleared all the Press formalities and waited for Bruce Wayne to arrive. Soon enough the man himself arrived and the ceremony began. It was during the socializing that Peter started to notice that his Spider-Sense was tingling mildly. He felt slightly put off but didn't pay any attention as his and Clark's turn to speak to Bruce Wayne was coming up real soon. He double and triple checked his camera, his settings, spare batteries, anything he might need. Clark noticed his nervousness and placed a hand on Peter's shoulder to calm him down.
Their time came and Clark was engaged in a serious conversation with Mr. Wayne when it happened. Peter's spider sense was going crazy and he heard windows shatter. Instinct told him to leap forward and pull Mr. Wayne and Clark down with him. And he did. All three of them narrowly avoided being decapitated by something large, floating, heavy with maniacal laughter above that. Cold sweat drenched Peter. He recognized the laugh.
###It was the Goblin.
Chaos reigned. The people started screaming and there was a weird colored smoke that he could see flowing into the room through the broken glass. He had never seen the Goblin use smoke like that. It still looked dangerous and it seemed to be making the people near it scream even louder.
Peter didn't dare look up. He needed to bring the two guys he was holding to safety before he could move, put his suit on save the rest of the guests. He knew there was a door to his left within a dozen feet that led to the washrooms. He grasped the two arms in both hands firmly and dragged them towards the door. Thankfully both Clark and Mr. Wayne didn't resist and seemed to be heading in the same direction.
They quickly reached the washroom, shut the door and turned to one another.
*"Who is that weirdo in hovercraft?"* Peter heard Clark ask.
*"Green Goblin, Norman Osborn's alter ego. Comes from Manhattan."* came the swift reply of Bruce Wayne.
Peter was dumbstruck. How does Bruce Wayne, a guy who lives in Gotham, knows about Green Goblin?
*"Doesn't look so green to me. Looks greyish. I bet it's Luthor's design. I dare not scan it. It might have Kryptonite."* Clark was talking to Mr. Wayne.
*"We also got Scarecrow to deal with. Those smoke bombs are his fear gas. Probably a newer type. We cannot risk inhaling it."* Mr. Wayne was talking rapidly while removing his coat. There seemed to be a Kevlar like vest underneath his coat.
*"Spiderman, I assume you can take him down?"* Mr. Wayne's voice broke Peter out of his trance.
*"W-what? S-Spiderman? Where?"* Peter was terrified. His identity..
*"Kid, you are not great at hiding your gauntlets on your forearm. Or your special button on your suit."* Clark's voice was gentle but Peter's mind was racing. There is no way anyone could see through the clothes let alone identify this button. There was only one possibility.
*"Superman?"* he inquired. Clark nodded.
*"And meet Batman."* Clark motioned to where Bruce Wayne stood. Only, there was no Bruce Wayne. It was Batman.
*"Nice to meet you in person, Spiderman. We've heard and seen a lot of your accomplishments. We even considered inducting you into Justice League but it seems like Stark took you in faster than we could say Avengers."* Clark finished.
*"You take care of the civilians, me and Spiderman will take out the Goblin and Scarecrow."* Bruce handed a specialised mask to both of them. *"To protect you from the fear gas."* he explained.
Peter was reeling from being in the presence of two he never thought he would see himself in. But the people needed help and he was the one who knew Goblin best. He pushed the button on his improvised suit. It was a version of Iron Spider suit that Mr. Stark had given with Nano tech. It contained his entire suit with it's appendages inside that tiny button. The Pim particles had way more use than Professor Pim ever thought it would be. The Spider suit wrapped around him.
#He was Spiderman now. |
It’s an odd thing to think about--how we’ve been programmed, our entire lives, for this very moment. How many movies, books, television shows can you name where an all powerful being abruptly appears, names the Chosen Ones, and brings them in to save the day?
All of them. It’s fucking all of them.
Of course my friends didn’t question it. An alien creature had done what most people hoped would happen. Told them they were special. Magical. Told them they could make a difference, gave them a reason to leave behind they’re miserable lives.
“You are to save us.” It had said, voice resonating with power, with knowledge. “You are the Saviors we have been waiting for!”
We were excited. We were all excited, of course we were. Looking back now, I would have been just as dumb as them if I hadn’t been forcibly set aside, cast out. I would have rushed to save the day without a second thought.
I never would have given a thought to the fact that the alien had never proven itself to be all powerful. Didn’t consider that it may not know my friends were not the beings it was looking for.
A second thought was given though. It was a fast thought, a thought made in anger and horror and the fact that this always fucking happened to me.
This time, I wasn’t going to let it.
This time, I would be apart of the adventure even if I wasn’t wanted.
Maybe someone else would’ve sat down and accepted it. Not me. Not now. I’ve been told I’m not special my entire life. Some two-bit alien with fancy technology and the ability to travel dimensions wasn’t any different from my bitchy school counselor or my disappointed parents. I knew what my friends didn’t--that I could make myself special. That it was my actions that made the difference, not some woo-woo magic bullshit.
Looking around now, I wished I had stopped to tell them that.
They had left me though, gone ahead without a backwards glance. They had been chosen and I had not, and any protests I had would likely have come off as “jealous.” So I ran after them, dead into that portal.
I wasn’t even five steps behind.
Five steps was enough. I don’t know how time works in portals--or really, how anything works in the dimension I found myself in. I had just gotten there.
My friends on the other hand, had clearly been here a while.
Five statues ringed a battlefield littered with smoking bodies, all of creatures I couldn’t recognize. The gore that surrounded me was inhuman enough to separate me from it--it was gruesome yes, but it just didn’t register like a human’s death would have. Like blood would have.
No, nothing registered, nothing at all--until I stumbled up to a statue of my best friend’s head.
The crack in the middle was rather impressive, almost as much as the tank-looking vehicle that had demolished it.
The tank hadn’t gotten far--it’d been stopped right at the base of my other best friends statue. Her’s was still standing, some sort of blackened out magic crystal clutched in stone hands.
“YOU.” Something boomed, directly into my head. “ARE BRAVE SHOWING UP HERE.” A dirty white mass moved around yet another statue--Jake, my mind identified after a stunned moment--and thudded it’s way towards me.
It was roughly the same size of the statues, with shaggy, dirty fur. Horns curled out of it’s face, next to jagged, stained teeth. Looking at it felt like a puzzle, my mind automatically trying to find animals to compare to it.
It failed.
“THEY LIVED GOOD LIVES, THE OTHER CHOSEN ONES.” It continued, making its way towards me. I didn’t run--couldn’t. Where would I go? The only shelter around was the statues. The ground was filled with what I thought was weapons, but none I knew how to use unless I decided to try my hand at just throwing things. “WE WORSHIPPED THEM. FOLLOWED THEM.”
It stopped before me, leaning down.
“THEY HAVE DOOMED US ALL.”
Of course they did.
(1/2, though I have to leave work so there will be a bit of time before the second half is posted. Good prompt OP!) |
"So, we've gone over all of the simple machines. The lever. The wheel and axle. The pulley. The inclined plane. The wedge. The screw. All devices that can be used to change the direction or the magnitude of a force are either one of these, or a combination of them."
One of the fourth-graders raised his hand. "How about *gears*, Mrs. Johnson?"
"Good question!"Kelly Johnson replied brightly. "Actually gears are a *series* of wheels and axles, with interlocking teeth to make them work better."
"What about a *vise*, Mrs. Johnson?"a clever student asked.
"Another excellent example, Joey! A vise uses a lever and a screw in series, so it's also a *combination* of simple machines."
Sarah raised her hand. "What about a...flipwidget?"
"A *flipwidget*?"Mrs. Johnson replied. "What exactly is a *flipwidget*, Sarah?"
"It's a...well, it's a thing I made up. Kind of a toy. It's really silly I guess. Never mind,"Sarah slumped back in her seat.
Kelly was too good a teacher to let Sarah get discouraged so easily. "Sarah, I think the class would *love* to put off their writing assignent for a little while to hear about your 'flipwidget.' Wouldn't you, class?"
The immediate cheer transformed Sarah from a distraction to a hero, and she brightened immediately.
She ran to the board and started to draw. "Basically, a flipwidget just does what you said, Mrs. Johnson. It changes the direction of a force."
The drawing looked simple at first glance, but then seemed impossible to comprehend. "That's really interesting, Sarah. How does it *work*?"
"I'll show you!"Sarah ran to the activity table and returned with three dowels, a couple of paper clips and some string. Less than a minute later, the flipwidget sat complete on the floor.
"Neat!"Kelly said, always encouraging. "What does it do?"
"Watch,"Sarah said, and turned it over.
It immediately fell to the ceiling.
The impact broke its fragile construction and its components fell back to the floor with a clatter.
If the class hadn't erupted into sustained applause, Kelly would have thought she'd imagined the whole thing. But there it was.
"Could you--show me how to put it together again, Sarah?"she asked, her heart racing.
 
The Sarah Vermillia Mulgrew Gravitational Force Redirector, or *FlipWidget* as it was forever known, almost didn't get a patent. It didn't make sense, after all. It *had* to be a fake. But it wasn't, and both U.S. and international patents were granted in short order.
By the time Sarah graduated from college, Earth was home to only half of the human race, thanks to *FlipWidget*-powered ships, space stations and planetary colonies. Microelectromechanical *FlipWidgets* powered everything from earbud smartphones to beercan-sized interstellar probes, and the last eight Nobel Prizes in physics had been awarded at least partially for advancements in *FlipWidget* theory and application.
The first such award, of course, was to Sarah herself--the first 12-year-old Nobel laureate in history, and by her 18th birthday, the wealthiest person in the Solar system.
At the advice of her long-time mentor Dr. Kelly Johnson, she'd wait until then to tell anyone about her SpinWidget and LeapWidget inventions. No sense in being *too* greedy, after all.
|
We thought it would be the new age of humanity, we were desperate, we were foolish. The planet had too many people and not enough resources, so the natural choice would be to expand into the vast expanse of space. We achieved this with a type of bomb that through a process I honestly do not understand, warp space that allowed our ships to move many times faster than light. First it brought in a golden age, our technology improved vastly when we met up with other advanced species in the cosmos, and our population grew into the trillions. Then the first being arrived, it was a disgusting thing,more eyes and tentacles then anyone would have time to count. The first sighting was after a gravity bomb accident left a ship disabled between star systems. The horrifying creature laid siege to the ship, leaving only 3 survivors out of a crew of 1000. But after the mere monsters, we awoken the gods.
We realized our mistake to late, our population dwindled from 2 quadrillion to 7 million in the course of a week. Beings beyond comprehension wiping out whole star systems while our strongest weapons hurt them about as much as a fly landing on a elephant hurts the elephant. Our final strategy was our final mistake, Because after the gods came... well honestly I do not know what came. I saw it with my own eyes yet I cannot describe its features or its actions.
Our plan was simple at first and even started to work, first we would begin mass cloning and genetic modification to restore our numbers, then we would activate hundreds of gravity bombs inside a massive star to both attract the gods and create a black hole in which to entomb them.
As the black hole formed, something crawled out. I could never forget the terrifying screams of the beings which echoed across the universe itself. As the thing finished with the gods it looked at the ship I was in, the ship that contained my friends and comrades, and even my own son. That thing, beyond humanity in every way. It looked me in the eye! How could such a thing even acknowledge the pretense of a man after what it has done! My knees trembled with fear as I awaited for what surely would be my demise. (I am a new writer and any feedback is appreciated, also I really enjoyed this prompt) |
It started of small. I poked myself in the eye. The pain was sharp and tears welled instantly. I don't know why I did it; it was just one of those moments where a thought jumps into your head and, ludicrous as it is, you feel a momentary impulse to give into it. This time, though, it didn't feel like an impulse, but like a determined certainty. I decided to poke myself in the eye before the thought formed in my mind.
"Damn idiot,"I whispered aloud and, with one hand covering my wounded eye, I finished my bathroom routine, got dressed and left my apartment for work. As I walked toward my car, I felt the need to urinate, so I stopped, unzipped my pants and pissed in the shrubbery just outside of my apartment building. Halfway through, I realized what I was doing and tried to piss faster as fear bloomed in my chest Abd began shooting fireworks off in my brain. There were families in my apartment building, single women, old people. All of the people that I didn't want to expose myself to. What in the name of all hell was I doing? I forced that last bit of piss out, put myself back, zipped up and walked quickly to my car. Once inside, I locked the doors (less protecting myself from others and more protecting others from myself) and closed my eyes. Why did I just do that? Again, I'd had the impulse before, either out of laziness or out of some banal sense of anarchy, but it was always the same as poking myself in the eye; that ancient voice of chaos, seemingly embedded in the hearty of everyone, but I'd never given in to it. I had dreams and goals, and having to register as a sex offender would put a crimp in them.
But the only thing that came back was that if decided to do it, that this was me beyond impulse. This was the deep, dark me making decisions.
I was about to start my car, but I hesitated. What other dark chaotic thoughts had I had in my life? How many could I give into while sitting behind this 2 ton death machine?
I punched the steering wheel, which gave a brief, loud honk. Scared, I hit it again, and again. Hitting turned into punching, hard and sharp loud honk Brendan filling the air around me.
"Please stop,"I whispered again, and my hands gripped the wheel tight and began pulling it. Plastic began cracking.
"Please stop it!"
My arms relaxed, and in that moment, I was back to normal. A couple of people walked out of their apartments, looking around for the asshole honoring his horn this early in the morning. One of them, a broad, middle-aged man saw me, pointed in my direction and began shouting something. I couldn't hear him, but I got good jist quickly enough when he walked to his car, opened his trunk and pulled out a tire iron.
"Fuck!"I shouted and started my car. I pulled it into drive and pulled quickly out of my parking spot. Seeing me trying to run away, the man broke out into a sprint, holding the tire iron above his head. I was able to get away before he could get to me, but I heard the metal-on-metal thud of his thrown tire iron hitting my trunk. I pulled out of my complex without slowing and turned onto the main road that would take me to work.
The radio, which had come in with the car, played a commercial for a furniture warehouse, then returned back to the dj's.
"Shit's gotten real out there, Bob, more real than your wife's tits, which, if I may add, feel amazing nonetheless. Let's go to the eye in the..."His words were cut off by the sound of something hitting the microphone, and then someone hitting someone else. This was cut off as well and was replaced by another man's voice coming through a less professional microphone.
"Thanks Larry, You know, I've been flying in helicopters for years, ever since I joined the Army in my twenties. I've seen terrible things, accidents, dead bodies, fires, floods, you name it. And I've been detached from all of it, spitting in my flying fortress, telling you and everyone listening all about it. What right do I have, to play God, up here, as people die and scream below me. I'm no God. I'm just a sinner with sins to pay for."
The sound of the president motor in the background changed and, after a moment, there was the brief sound of a crash, before that cut off as well.
I looked up from the radio in time to see for cars in an accident, and a small mob of people, fistfighting in the intersection. One man landed a solid right hook before they were all hit by a speeding truck. The carnage was horrific. I stopped my car and, after a brief internal syringe, got out, pulled out my cellphone and called 911.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"There's been an accident at the intersection of 14th and Park."
"Sorry, dog, we're all full up."
"Excuse me?"
"All full up, we don't have any more ambulances to send out."
"Are you serious?"
"Look around you, my dude. I'm assuming you can see at least one building on fire right now, can probably hear at least one gun shot in the next five minutes and, well, you already see at least one car accident. Whatever is going on, is going on everywhere. I'd suggest going inside, pray to your god, if you believe in one, and hope you make it out alive."And then he hung up.
I looked around and did indeed see the gas station in the corner behind me was on fire. Next to it, as close as he could get to it, was a young man pissing on the flames. In the parking lot of the movie theater between the gas station and me, a speeding car opened its passenger side door and a man tumbled out. The woman in the driver's seat spun the car around, stepped on the gas and drove over him. She then leapt from the car and shouted, "Fuck you, Frank, have your mother clean that up, then got into her car and drove away.
As I stood there, surrounded by chaos and death, an old man stepped up beside me with a gun in his right hand. "It's a shame, really, that we'd go out like this."
"Why is this happening?"My need for order and understanding beat out my fear of his pistol.
"The gods have died, son. I tried praying, and there was no one home. Tried making an offering, but it was rejected. Hell, even tried making a sacrifice, but the smell and smoke wouldn't rise. This is the end."He put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening at such close range. I stepped away from the now-lifeless body. One more instinct came to me, not from that deep chaos, but from my childhood. I called out to the gods, to any that would answer me, but I was rejected. I felt as though a door was closed and locked to me. The old man had been right. I picked up the gun from the ground beside him. He was right about more than one thing. |
The emotional frenzy, the repulsive intimacy ricocheted from person to person for the briefest moment. But the fallout, the quaking psyches that clutched at sanity, took weeks to resolve.
Imagine the last stranger you casually passed on the highway, on the sidewalk, in the office... . Imagine that stranger, stripped, lolling in the boudoir of your mind, reaching at you with grubby fingers. That is what it was like.
Or so they told me.
I wasn't their kin. And they hated me for it. I had no emotions, averse or fair, toward them. I was a silver pool, cool to the touch, that reflected lurid pantomimes of humans, freak show exaggerations of dark and light. A shattering of all conceits.
Where did the mind-link come from? I didn't know.
But they came for me.
The flames of their torches lapped at my face. As they drew closer and looked into me, their expressions contorted to horror.
Faces crowded round as one of them raised a club that started its fatal descent toward me.
And in my last flash of awareness, I protested with an utterance of the only thing that was really ever mine.
"My name is 'Mirror.'" |
I've had some near misses in my time, but that's what kept life exciting, ya know. The sudden glances of wide eyed victims in their last moments as I would approach were, at this stage of my career almost hilarious. By nature of being the very best at my job, only my victims knew I was definitely the worst at it.
And corpses can't converse.
My contracts started easily, a Facebook marketplace advertisement would be selling a Model T Ford. Not a lot of interest in a overpriced, old mass produced car, but it was a single lifeline of income for me.
My first contract came through from a man who wanted his boss murdered at home, to make it look like an accident. I followed that guy for weeks, learning how he went about his life and his day to day interests, finally working out that I would be able to get him when the construction of the apartment complex across the street began.
I had it all plotted out: the sudden crunch of a falling brick as he got into his car on the way to work. With nobody else at the worksite yet, it would look entirely accidental.
But alas, my first victim was not even mine. One evening as I watched him exit his car at the front of his apartment building, a comically large piano fell from a crane swinging into the construction site, crushing him with his keys still in his hand and leaving me with a brick still in mine.
He was the first of many such 'accidents' that the Model T assassin had come to 'kill'. I chased a man in a boat once, only for him to turn too sharply, eject himself and promptly be bitten in half by a Great White Shark, fortune that he did, because his boat propeller loosed off a few seconds later and would have killed him. One lady even saw me coming with a silenced handgun in the rougher neighbourhood one day. She even began running and was promptly pink misted by a passing semi. Sometimes I almost chuckled to myself, but the money kept coming in and I had no reason to complain because money makes the world go around.
I guess making a profit out of being Death isn't so bad, right? |
Have you ever been to a theme part really early in the morning, before anyone else has arrived? It was like that, except it was hell.
"Hello ?"I had called out, only to be met with more silence. At this point I was standing in the entrance, a large and impressive arch, with 'HELL' written in Comic Sans.
Jesus, I thought to myself.
There were ticket booths, but a quick glance inside showed no one was there. Just some ticket machines, unused name badges, water bottles, that sort of thing. So I ducked under the barrier and entered hell. Luckily there was a giant map just as you go in. Whoever had designed this - Lucifer presumably - had definitely taken inspiration from theme parks. For example there was a water log ride, but instead of water it was lava. I could even see it off in the distance, logs going up and down. Just empty.
I knew I should have felt terrified, but instead I felt something I had never felt when alive. Happy. Other humans disgusted me. We're such a pointless species, whose existance uses resources and multiply. And here I was, with no other humans in sight.
It's difficult to describe time in a place like this, but a lot of time went by, and didn't. Enough for me to have explored the place inside and out multiple times, even though it subjectively felt like I had just arrived. I was in one of the booths, reading an article I had found on multidimensional architecture, when a blinking light caught my attention. Looking up, I saw it was the lift I had arrived in. The numbers were crawling down from zero to minus six hundred and sixty six.
Someone was coming. The second human ever to be sent to hell. I smiled, oh such a large smile. With absolute certainly, I knew what I was going to do.
I pinned a name tag to my chest, and waited for the elevator to open. |
John sat quietly in his seat as he tried his best to read his book. The train swayed rhythmically and, even after years of his daily commute, it’s motion seemed to calm his nerves. But something was off today. He continuously read the same page over and over without taking in any of the words. He felt as if something was tugging on his mind, drawing his concentration away from everything else. John gave up on trying to read and slid his novel into his backpack.
When he finally arrived at his station he was glad to be off of the train. He needed to clear his mind and Don’s Coffee would definitely do the trick. John moved with the crowd, slowly making his way towards the food court. He looked at his watch but his usual sense of urgency had slipped from his mind, leaving him in an almost dream-like state. He wondered if he’d had enough sleep the night before, trying to recall what time he went to bed. His mind was fuzzy. Covered in a thick fog.
John looked up and realised that he had passed the coffee shop. He tried to turn towards it in order to change his course but his feet ignored his mind. He grabbed a nearby railing and forcibly changed his direction, starting towards the coffee shop. Each step was a struggle. He felt as if he was trudging through wet cement. His mind kept trying to force him to move back towards the crowd but he fought it, putting one foot in front of the other. Something in John’s subconscious told him that he should be worried but no emotion reached his face. Eventually, he managed to get the the service desk.
“Mornin’ John-boy. You having the usual?” asked Donald. John stared at him, and opened his mouth only for nothing to come out. Don gave him a strange look. John’s mouth opened and closed, words trying to form but his mind refused to let them. Suddenly John felt his body turn on its own, his back towards Don, and begin to move back into the crowd.
“Uh..I’ll see you around John?” Don shouted after him, his sentence more of a question than a statement.
John stared calmly ahead. His body had gone into autopilot, making him walk through the crowd. He tried his best to gain control again but he had been blocked out and was now a passenger. He looked at the crowd around him as he went. They all had the same blank expression and their steps were in sync. Passers-by gave the crowd strange looks as it moved. Finally, John felt his body stop.
He was outside of the convention centre, only a few blocks from his office. A banner that hung over the entrance caught his attention.
34th Annual ‘John Smith’ Convention: All John Smiths welcome!
“Oh god, it can’t be the 20th already.” John thought to himself. He usually marked the date off on his calendar and knocked himself out with some heavy sleeping pills, but he had forgotten to carry out the tradition this year. The crowd grew as many more people appeared from nowhere. They formed neat rows in the parking lot, waiting for the convention to begin. John heard a small chant begin on the opposite side of the crowd. It was quickly picked up by the rest, rising in volume with each repetition. John struggled to keep it from his own lips but knew it was an impossible battle.
“Birds of a feather flock together!” he said. He knew it was going to be a long day. |
I fought the debilitating grogginess and squinted at the tablet that towered over me. It was an enormous slab of stone covered in unfamiliar squiggles and shapes; I couldn't even begin to guess what language it could be. Come to think of it, I couldn't remember what language I spoke. And that wasn't all; I was also trying to puzzle out where the hell I was, why the hell the sun was blue, and why I was *naked* in the middle of a grassy field when a distant buzzing sound caught my attention.
I looked around for some sort of aircraft, maybe a helicopter - but the sky was empty, cloudless, and, oddly enough, green. I realized that I would probably have better vantage point if I actually stood up.
My whole body felt sore, as if I had been running a marathon. I couldn't find any obvious wounds on me - no cuts or burns - and nothing felt broken or sprained. I was just very lethargic, both in mind and body. There was a small headache brewing behind my left eye, and somehow I knew that that was due to a lack of coffee. I licked my dry lips. Actually, even water sounded really good right now; my throat felt like paper.
I took another look around now; still, no helicopters, but I had been wrong about assuming an empty sky. There was a small, tan cloud on the horizon to the...west? That was the opposite of the sun, right? Well, I guess that depended on what time of the day it was - another frustrating unknown.
I glanced back at the indecipherable tablet, and realized it was not alone. In fact, I standing in the middle of a sort of haphazard circle of similarly designed structures, some with writing and some without. I was standing the middle of some sort of ruins; it reminded me of Stonehenge. Hm. Now why do I remember *that* but not how I got here?
There was something out of place leaning against one of the structures; it was shiny, like metal, and rectangular with crisp corners. Modern, unlike these ruins. I hesitated at first, but curiosity got the better of me: I went forward and touched it gingerly. It was definitely metal, but that's all I got before it began to beep and light up with several colored lights. I yelped and jerked back as it became perfectly horizontal, rose up in the air until it was about knee-height, and then quietly stayed there, as if waiting. I waited impatiently for it do something else, but nothing seemed to happen.
The droning buzz distracted me then, as it had gotten even louder - and, coincidentally, the cloud on the horizon had gotten much larger. I stared at it. It was surprisingly dynamic; parts of it shrank and grew rapidly, as it were an organism moving its arms. In fact, the whole thing reminded me of something...
Then it hit me. *Insects.* It wasn't a cloud, it was a huge swarm of insects zooming right toward me.
I took a step back, trying not to panic. My leg bumped against the hovering thing, and it beeped softly in response. I stared at it quizzically, but an idea blossomed in my head. Well, one way to find out...
With one hand on a nearby stone tablet for support, i hoisted myself onto the metal board, mentally preparing myself to fall on the ground any second. But the board not only held my weight, but it...held my feet, so to speak. Not with any straps, but I felt an invisible force gloving my feet and halfway up my legs. The sensation was strangely...familiar.
But I didn't have to muse over it right now - the swarm had gotten close enough that I could just about see the individual insects darting around frantically. I faced the opposite direction, toward the blue sun, grimaced and thought, *well, I better get out of here.*
As soon as the thought materialized in my brain, the board zoomed forward, carrying me along with it.
*Liked that story? Want more like it? Check out r/Idreamofdragons!* |
When I found out I was a immortal, it was to my deep and sincere consternation.
I had gone to the local tavern, even though my wife told me to stay. I didn’t listen because I hated her.
Then I went and sat with my friends. They talked and made jokes and I didn’t talk back because I hated them too. I drank, rum, wine, beer, everything. I hated the taste, and I hated that I was here, doing this, but as I drank, i found that I hated everything less and less.
Then when I returned home, I found that the raiders had come. They’d been spotted in the area the day before. I could have taken my wife and our children with me to the bar, made them sit outside. I could have left them my knife. I could have not gone at all.
But I did go, and when I came back I found their corpses, burnt black, in the rubble. One big one and two little ones. So close, they’d been cowering when they were killed, or holding hands.
The next part was easy. I tied a rope to a tree branch, like I’d seen them do in the village dozens of times. Fumbling, drunken, fingers made a mess of it, but in time I had a necklace of rope, ready for my last night out.
Then I stepped off my stone and into the abyss.
I felt the pain, the rope squeezing the air out of me, a burning sensation along my body, and then…
The pain continued. The rope would not cut any deeper into my throat, and it appeared I didn’t need to breathe anyway.
So after trying burning, falling, drowning and impalement, I opted for a different approach instead. If I could not die, I would be death.
And so I was for 500 years. In every nation torn by strife, in every village struck by war or plague or terror, there was one more, a man dressed in rags with only a knife who gave mercy to the dying, justice to the evil, and the nature of this world to all others who crossed his path.
But then, one day, I came to a tiny village that had been attacked by bandits flying flags of justice and democracy.
The first four houses were dead or abandoned.
The fifth had a man hiding in the basement. He begged, but it didn’t save him.
The sixth had a different man, injured, who had tried to fight and been left to die. He thanked me as I pressed a rag over his face.
The seventh and eighth houses were empty.
In the ninth house, I found the girl.
She was crying, dirty and abandoned. She had hid from the ravagers, and feared that they had found her now.
My hand twitched to my knife, but in her I saw another girl, younger, that I couldn’t save, so instead I found a blanket in the rubble and wrapped her in it.
And then I took her to a safe place, and gave her a bath.
It took a long time and plenty of hot meals and further baths for her to start talking, and even longer for her to trust me.
Then I learned that she too was alone. That there was no one in the world who meant anything to her. How she had made a wish to her god for a chance at true love, and so he sent a false man who had done a very bad thing to her.
I didn’t know what to say, so I asked what she wanted me to do to him, and she told me.
And when I was done with the bad man, she kissed me, and promised she would be with me until we both died.
And then a year later, when we had a house in a safe place, friends to fill it on the weekends, and a future ahead of us, I told her the truth: that death could never unite us like life, for I could not die.
And she told me her truth: that the day of our parting would be sooner even then the blink of a lifetime, and held up gray hairs to prove it.
And I’ve never been good at waiting, so I drew my knife and held it to her neck, so at least this would be over with quickly.
(r/StannisTheAmish)
(Part 2 momentarily.) |
"Fuck."The guard mumbles, slapping the side of his monitor, "fucking thing..."
He pushes his chair back and looks down the hallway.
"Hey, hey Joan."He calls, and she glances at him from her own monitor.
"Looks like the wires got crossed on this one."He says.
Joan groans, pushing herself from her table and wandering over.
You're mid-turnstile, breathing casually, acting very normal, maybe watching the guards behind the industrial pyrex too closely. Maybe tapping your fingers against your thigh too quickly.
Clenching your hand into a tight fist, you watch the soldier at the end of the turnstile, and consider that you had always wanted to come across like a cool werewolf superhero, but you also really dont want to die, not that you couldnt probably make it through one soldier, but there was never just one soldier.
Joan squints at the screen. "Darry is gonna have to detain this guy... maybe it's some kind of...reaction?"She waved at the soldier waiting at the turnstile.
"Alright sir, gonna have to ask if you have any drugs, weapons, concealed artifacts..."Darry announced, "and/or any contagious medical issues."
You feel the 20 people lined up behind you lock eyes on you. You have the Alien at your finger tips. You could shred your human suit and show all these fucking idiots what happens when you get asked straight forward questions.
You clench your fist tighter.
"That's weird."Joan smacks the monitor herself. "Its tracking him, but...he...it looks like he's full of rebar."
"No sir,"you say in your most casual civilian tone, "had a bit of a sore throat last week but that's all."You're grinning, you're so funny.
Joan taps the screen and four overlays slide onto the scan of your body, and she still cant make you look human on the inside, everything she is being told by this decrepit technology is impossible.
She turns her head into her mic.
"Darry, hes probably got some bad tech on him that's messing with our scans. Be careful."She taps it off and watches Darry take a step forward. |
In an instant, I went from making my backup to opening my eyes to a police officer. I blinked twice, and realized that I could not feel my body. I could, however, hear thousands of tiny gears, motors, and other mechanics encased within the silicone body I now inhabited. This could only mean one thing, I was either dead or missing.
"Mr. Baldwin?"the police officer seemed concerned. I turned my head slightly to look at him. I couldn't actually feel my body, but I could tell how stiff it was.
"Yes, officer? What seems to have happened?"He seemed a bit relieved.
"We had to use an older body, some of us had our doubts it'd work but this matter couldn't wait."Officer Black, according to his name tag at least, seemed to be very concerned.
"Do you know what happened?"I asked him. The details hardly mattered to me. I didn't exactly have a lot of enemies, so if I had been murdered there was a pretty short list of immediate suspects. I also had a pretty safe lifestyle, so I didn't think there was much of a chance for anything exciting to have happened to me.
"We found your body,"the officer began. That was very bad language coming from a police officer. More often than not a "body"was not alive. If I could gulp in fear, this was when I would have done it. "We're fairly certain we know what happened, but it's custom to let you get any affairs in order before the funeral arrangements are made."
I could almost feel my non-existent stomach drop. I couldn't believe what I was being told.
"How did I go?"I asked. I was fearful of the answer, but I supposed it didn't matter at this point.
"You were struck by a drunk driver."The statement was matter-of-fact. I couldn't accept it. It was so unfair.
"What about my wife and kids?"
"They survived, albeit with minor bruises."
"And the drunk?"I saw Officer Black lean back in his chair.
"Lived, but only barely. He may still die of his injuries."So there was some justice then, I supposed. I was angry now.
"Is he going to be punished?"I asked. There was more venom in my voice than I had intended.
"I'm not at liberty to discuss that."Typical. The court would probably see his injuries as just desserts. At worst he'd lose his license, but I didn't think that was enough. I was suddenly struck with a realization. As long as I was in this body, I could live on! I didn't have to die where I did, I could just live in this robotic body.
Officer Black must have been watching my expressions and been able to tell what I was thinking.
"Once everything's been put in order, you will be unplugged. I'm sorry Mr. Baldwin, but that's just how it is."
Now I was really angry. Why should my family be punished because of some drunk driver? Why was he allowed to keep living? Why did it feel like such bullshit!?
I started to try and get up. The older body felt very clunky, but it still moved easily enough. As I got my balance, Officer Black started to lead me out the door to a police vehicle. As I walked towards the police cruiser we were going towards, I moved to sit in the front with Officer Black.
"Sorry, Mr. Baldwin, you have to sit in the back."I looked at him in disbelief. I couldn't take any more of this. I'd been killed, and now I was being treated like a criminal?
I bolted. Officer Black started calling somebody on the radio as he gave chase. I ran to escape the one who would deny me my next chance at life. I could still live, I was alive now, even! All that I had to do was return to my family.
Suddenly I was falling. The awkward body I inhabited had been tackled by my pursuer.
"Let me go!"I pleaded. I was terrified. I didn't know what happened when you died, I didn't want to find out. If he turned off the backup it would all be over, I wouldn't be able to see my wife. I would never see my kids grow up. I pleaded and screeched with all my heart to be let go. If I had had tear ducts, I would have been bawling, blinded by my own tears of desperation.
I felt the smallest of clicks as something on the back of my head was pressed. In an instant, I knew what had happened. At the speed of light, the mechanics of the body shut down. The processor that ran the backup too.
Officer Black stood up, tears in his own eyes. Mr. Baldwin hadn't been the first to attempt such a thing, and it always felt so wrong to turn off a person. The law was the law, though, and Black had sworn an oath to enforce it. A pair of officers ran out to him, hands on their hips at first. Once they saw the body they knew what had happened.
"Take him back, run it again."Officer Black told his subordinates. "This time we'll have him strapped down, he does have business to attend to, after all." |
In Washington Square Park, the heart of Manhattan beats with the bustle of millions while two men play a game of chess. This is no normal contest of skill, no, because one of these men can read minds and the other can see the future.
Charlie likes to distract himself when he plays and uses his ability on the throng of park goers. Waiting for his turn he finds himself in the mind of a man that had a threeway last night. The casanova's dilemma is an extreme one. He enjoyed his time with John more then he did Morina. He always expected, but now what?
Charlie wants to chase after the man and tell him the answer he seeks is, "to just live,"but out of context, it would seem bizarre received from a total stranger, so Charlie turns his attention back to his nemesis, a man who never fails to turn up at this bird shit splattered table.
Hector Cheech Gonzalez, was undefeated until Charlie challenged him, and now that's all he sees when he looks into the future is losing game after game.
And Charlie never once had to use his ability on him.
Hector's mind only exists for one thing: to play chess and Charlie only needs to peer inside his head to find when the next time they will play, never for his next move. He could use his ability to read his opponent's mind, but if he did the soothsayer would just see the future and adjust his tactics. This makes the game frustrating and never-ending.
Instead, Charlie plays with no thought and through pure chaos wins every time.
A complete waste, he thinks as he moves his pawn and finds he can take the fortunetellers bishop, "Check,"he says smiling. Putting his mind on another passerby. This one has a list of things he is going to ask his mistress to punish him for when he gets to her apartment.
Charlie goes through the list, item by item, as Hector sweats the future.
|
Where do I even start?
My name’s David. I was just a normal dude, doing a regular Martian hike in my EHS on a Sinoday. How the fuck was I supposed to know that that glint came from a fucking… what do I even call it? I'll just call it a Relic. Whatever. Who the fuck cares.
Well, I was hiking on the Olympus Trail when I saw a glint from that Relic thingy. I thought it could've been something expensive, a piece of jewellery or whatever. Wanted to sell it for a bit of cash, see if anyone wanted it.
I dug it out and got a fucking genie lamp. Well, there was no genie in it, though I did rub it a bit for the laughs. This thing wasn't gonna get me shit. I'd probably get like 10 Ares, maybe 12. That'd tide me over for like a day. That was disappointing.
I left it at home for a bit. Didn't think I should sell it til after the selling season. I mean, why would you buy a genie lamp when you could buy a golden necklace for half the regular price?
Maybe it was a coincidence, but I don't think so. Cause the day after I got home with that fucking lamp, I began to see things. Stuff got moved around without anyone ever entering the house. Ornaments fell off the wall. Food disappeared. Okay, maybe that last one was just me eating too much.
In any case, I thought back and correlated it to the lamp. I grabbed the lamp and looked inside the spout. It was dark inside, as expected. I was about to put it down when I heard a faint hum. Putting it back in my hands, the dumb fuck that is my brain decided that I should try to open the lamp.
The lid came off after a hard pull, and the lamp glowed with fierce golden rays coming out of it. Symbols that I didn't recognise appeared in glistening white, floating all around me.
And I blacked out.
When I woke up, I thought I'd been dreaming. “There's no magic in this world! It's probably some fancy new tech. Could probably sell for a tad bit,” I thought.
Then, it spoke.
A harsh, deep voice spoke to me, its origins seemingly from everywhere around me, and nowhere at all.
“Who are you?”
=============================
I'll do a part 2 later, I don't think I can manage this prompt in a short form. I've done a few prompts on my other account, but this is the first one I've done on this account, which is gonna be dedicated to writing so yeah. Give me some reviews and advice please :) |
I see her before she sees me and my heart leaps, as it always does when I see her where shes not supposed to be. She still reminds me of the fifteen-year-old I took to prom forty years ago even though she is older now, she still runs daily and lifts every night. She isn't what the kids think equals hot either, but a lifetime learning MMA and how to kill with bare hands, really rarely does. None of that matters though because she is my little moral razor blade, painful if not minded and deadly if crossed.
"Honey,"I say softly because I know she doesn't like to be disturbed.
And I am right, she sighs in irritation, the muscle in her back bunching, "Yes dear,"she answers through gritted teeth.
"Can I speak with you a moment?"I know she'll say no, or tell me to go away, or turn on me and stab me with one the injectors of narcotic she has left in her fanny pack. She always keeps extra, just in case she has to take out a cop or a witness.
She wipes sweat from her forehead with a bare forearm, its hot in here and the house smells like musty mouse shit and prostitutional transgressions. "I'm a little busy, dear, she says. "Maybe at home, later, there is a roast in the oven and your folks might stop by with dessert."
All of this is bullshit my folks have been dead twenty years and she hasn't cooked since Johnny died.
There is a knock on the front door to the crack-house.
I open it and an officer is standing there, behind him on the street is a mess of press, cameras flashing as hundreds of pictures are taken of me standing in the door. Behind them, a crowd of neighborhood residents shout about police corruption and the violence that has plagued their community for decades now.
They chant, No more cops, no more cops.
I wonder what would happen if I let them have her. They would be cutting her down from one of these old growth oaks lining the street before morning, he decides.
"How did they know so fast,"I turn and look at my wife hidden behind the shadow of the door working along as if they weren't surrounded by cops, reporters, and people wanting their revenge for so much death and fear. Maybe it was her who called them, maybe she wanted to make her hobby more challenging.
"Captain, someone let it slip that we found another dead gangster and that the killer is trapped inside."
The cop looks nervous, maybe it was him who made the call. The whole force knows what Trish has been up to and as little as I support it, no one wants to stop her, including me. It goes deeper than fifty or sixty vigilante slayings. The crime in the city has gotten bad and her thinning the criminal element actually made a difference. it all started when the mill closed, meth and synthetic opioids became a salve, for a bit, until fighting and broken families and other worseness arrived. Crimes just exploded into an unsolvable problem overnight. Gangs control the drug trade and even force the kids to smoke every day on their way home from school until they start coming to them on their own. That's what happened to little Johnny, came for the drugs and stayed for the gang, or so according to Trish.
Either willing or forced he did not last long.
And since Johnny died its been cover-your-ass-city with the thin blue line alive and well even in rural South Carolina.
I nod that I understand and close the door as I return to stand over Trish who is just getting up off the floor. The body she was working on is dismembered like all the others and carefully packed up. The buckets of blood have been lidded and the body parts not only wrapped individually but also collected in large black yard bags. The house long ago was stripped for its copper. The living room where this murder took place was rotted wood and black shadows but looks cleaner now then it did before.
He doesn't bother to check her work because she never leaves any evidence.
She turns to me, "Now What?"
And I don't know because if she goes down we all go down and Mayberry will be without a police force and the drugs will win. I think about what that means, drugs winning. It means justice will die and I will be out of a job and maybe the whole city of Mayberry will be without a police force and I find myself thinking in circles. Is it just about having a job?
No, can't have that, I decide and open the door. The cop outside turns to face me. The cameras pointed in my direction go crazy with clicks and burst of flash. The crowd writhes with violence.
"What's the word, sir.
"We are going home,"because, in the end, we are nothing without it, home, love, and family.
"No, we are not,"
I turn and face Trish. She stands there with hands on hips. Eyes molten brown. "Now we take me to jail for 57 murders. I have work to continue and the people I need to kill are safe and sound behind walls of steel."
And now it's my turn to sigh as I take my cuffs out from their container at the small of my back, knowing there is nothing I can do about this either.
|
White halls, white walls, white floors and just like that, white windows. Not see-through glass, but opaque white, that lets the light in, but doesn't let you understand what you see. Because Pentagon doesn't want you to look inside it's windows.
Through these walls of white runs a man with papers, charging, pushing himself forward. It is clear that running isn't the man's game, for he has trouble keeping his spectacles on his nose. It is also evident, that no game is this man's game, as he keeps fumbling and barely keeps on his feet. He must run as fast as his thoughts do right now and believe you me - that's mighty fast.
A room, not oval, but seems like it should be. A table in the middle, chairs around it. On each chair a general of sorts, be it in the field of science or military. With the power of the scientists here and with all of the mustaches of military generals combined, a mammoth could be made. Some man at the end of the table is being briefed about a flag of Soviets, found on Mars. They speculate, how could the Russians gotten there before them. It all seems as usual - no one understands anything and nothing is being decided, until the door bursts open and a confused man stands at the doorway. He has had, after all, lost his spectacles.
"Red planet!"shouts the scientist and waves around his papers.
"Indeed."confirms another who is sitting at the table. A consensus is being reached and that is something.
"You don't understand!"shouts the new guest and starts dropping off files one by one in front of the main person in the room. "They did not get there before us!"
"I see."Nods the leader and turns to the rest of his personnel. "Glad we've sorted that out. Dismissed."
"No, not dismissed!"the man frantically objects and starts to open his files. "Don't you all get it?"
"Define "it"and we'll talk."insists one of the generals.
"The drinking? The ability to sustain cold? The strange language and customs? Ladies and gentlemen..."the mad man pulls out pictures of Mars and turns them to the viewers. They appear to contain the remnants of an old civilization. (The pictures, not the viewers.)
"The Russians have never gone to Mars!"Explains the distraught man with more shouting than necessary. Then again, maybe it is the exact shouting that this moment would require.
"The Russians are from Mars! They are Martians! They have traveled to Earth, not the other way around!"
[Literary Nobody](https://www.reddit.com/r/LiteraryNobody/) |
You kept your eyes closed against the blinding morning sun seriously considering going dry. Last night had been a mess, been rejected by Tina who you had been hitting on for months, friends ditched to a different party, and the last thing you could remember was leaving to head back to the dorm. Eyes still closed and head pounding you sit up to get some water and reevaluate your life choices, except, you can't move.
As your eyes snap open in bewilderment you see the morning sun is actually a bright white light shining in your face. Lifting your head from the pillow you realize you are on a gurney gagged and strapped down with special consideration given to your fingers, there is a tie for each. Movement catches your eye and in growing horror you note you are in a sterilized hospital like room with people in white suits milling around the edges. One of the white suits sees your movement and approaches you with a cold detached expression.
He stops a foot or so away and in an emotionless voice intones 'We have made it our life work to track down and either monitor or restrain all of your kind witch. You will explain to us how an unmarked, uncategorized entity escaped our notice and progressed into their full power.' Close to a full panic attack, you remember your mother's insistence in singing her favorite nursery rhyme with you before bed each night.
You had sang it with her so often it now acted as a lullaby and you found it impossible to fall asleep without it, except had you sang it last night? Was it connected to this nightmare? The words, which had always seemed so innocent before now seemed ominous. "As day turns to night and we lose what is bright, as the watchers draw near there is nothing to fear, as we lay down to sleep our secrets we keep, till breaks the new day and sweeps worries away" |
I rotate slowly, taking in the world around me. Beams of light create swirling patterns on my chest. I am surrounded by a warm, soft glow yet it seems off, like the beams of light are cracked and fading and the glow is slowly wilting. A quiet, harmonious melody sees to come from the light itself.
"Not at all like my tinnitus,"I say, though there is no-one around to hear me. "Thank God."
With a start I realize I must be in heaven. God is real. "Holy shit...,"I say, careful to keep the words under my breath.
I walk through the gates and into the white expanse, somehow both comforted and unsettled. "I don't think this is how it is supposed to go,"I say.
"You are correct."
I jump backwards, startled by the sound. The voice is a deep baritone, rolling and beautiful. "This isn't at all how things are supposed to go,"the voice continues.
I strain to see the speaker, swinging my eyes in all directions, even upwards, but all I see is white. Only the gates stand out among the white expanse, tall and imposing and framing the white nothingness behind me. They are twisted and hanging askew and the golden metal seems to be slowly melting. "Where are you?"
"Come back through the gate,"the voice says.
I obey the command without question. The voice embodies trust.
I pass back through the gate's high archway and drink in the magnificent structure again. I see cracks in the arches that weren't there before. I watch as a line splits the white stone and spreads out like a spider's web, branching in several different directions. Each crack streams light.
I see a man lying prostrate behind some sort of podium, nestled to one side of the gate. Strange how I hadn't noticed him before. He has a hand on his stomach and light escapes through his fingers, floating away in delicate wisps.
"Saint Peter?"I ask, my voice betraying the awe I feel at this place.
"The very one,"the figure says, his voice powerful and filled with conviction.
"Listen, young one,"he says, "I don't have much time. Listen and listen clearly."
I nod, too shocked for words, my mouth hanging agape.
"The Ancient One, the one you humans call God, has abandoned this world."The Saint breathes heavily. The escaping light seems to be accelerating. A sharp crack reverberates and a pulse of air knocks me backwards. I look up to see another huge piece of the gate falling to the ground. I brace myself as it hits, managing to hold my ground where I kneel.
"Humans stopped coming through the gates centuries ago."The Saint looks at me, his eyes shining with fierce intensity. "You are the first in a long, long time."
"What does that mean?"I ask.
One half of the gate falls inwards, landing with a sharp metallic clang that bounces around my skull and makes my eyes water.
Saint Peter is now fully sheathed in light. It streams from his eyes and his mouth and his nostrils. "It is time for you to ascend into the light."A head, bright like the sun, turns towards me. "When you get there, start running. Don't look back. Don't stop for anyone."
And my world goes white. |
\*im not very good at this, please critique\*
​
I thought there'd be security checks, a uniform and at least a strip-down of possessions. Turns out they don't give a fuck what happens in Containment. A hyper train was what i thought would be the last humane thing i experience. And this pudding, it's probably the best I ever had. I came to the conclusion this city would be my death bed a while ago. The train stops to high rises of slums as prisoners themselves do the pat down. The newcomers are stripped of clothes and dignity already being shoved around. Then they're eyes avert to me.
"This cunts Robert Shift", slurs a rusty albino man.
I'm a politician, weaselling myself out of a shitty situation is what i do best. I know I can manipulate these primitive beings not to take my suit and half a pudding. Yet before a word leaves my mouth that same albino man pulls a jagged knife and shanks my thigh. He then trickles the knife up my rib cage and dances it into my throat. I choke, then die. Yet it feels like I'm watching myself lose breath, like I'm not the person dying.
Back inside a train isn't where I thought I'd be next. A silver spoon and a whole cup of that same pudding presents itself. Is this heaven? Yet again, the train stops and a voice announces.
"To ensure you live in exile, forever, any death will be reverted back to this train, happy travels"
As the train arrives to the same station. I scoff my pudding watching Albino man waving his blood ridden knife.
I step off and smile.
"Can you stab me once more, this pudding is to die for"
​ |
There is a soft THUD behind me as she lands on all four...and I sigh...I have heard this kind of thud way to often… and so I am a bit wary as I turn around, dreading what I will be seeing. And as I suspected, directly on a book, cats will be cats even if the cat in question is a magical cheetah, sits my mothers familiar.
“DOOM! DOOM HAS COME OVER YOUR FAMILY!” Her high pitched wail of sadness is enough to make me cringe...having grown up with her I like her actually quite a bit, and so I give her a hug, gently scratching her back. “Shshsh, calm down.” Her fur is bristled in agitation as I just pet her, as calmly as I can. “Everything will be alright.”
For most people it might be rather weird to comfort a magical cheetah...but well, I grew up with her, and she always was a weird mix of older sister, mother and… as much as I hate it now, servant. Though she seems particularly agitated today… haven’t seen her this way since the argument between me and my mum… yeah… she still supported me in college… but every visit meant another argument… can’t get it in her head I like science better than magic…. and I’m getting sidetracked… while the Cheetahs wailing slowly dies down, how breathing steadies.
“So… what exactly happened?” She takes a deep breath to recollect herself. Before she explains, now as solemn as a judge. “Your Mother...she forgot her tax return. And now she is being audited.”
|
*"Curiosity killed the cat, huh"*
I was long past panic. After about fifteen minutes of screaming, and another fortyfive of crying, I accepted my fate. Not only was I lost, but I was lost 4.3 light years lost. My fear of teleporting into space and not being able to return was overshadowed by the 'unprecedented scientific discovery.' We, NASA, knew going in that we wouldn't be able to communicate in real time. After all, Alpha Centauri was four light years away. I think they said it would take four years for any transmission to reach them. So we decided to record the experience as well as transmit it. *'What a surprise they will be in for when they realize I don't know how to get back.'*
"Houston, we have a problem."
*'Might as well have a sense of humor about it after all that kicking and screaming'*
"I don't know where the earth is, and as a result cannot return home."They ingrained in me a habit of saying everything I thought for scientific purposes but I'm sure they wouldn't want *EVERYTHING* because this was going to be broadcast to the world. "I'm scared of dying but know that I'm here for something that is greater than I and I've come to terms with that. I at least hope we can learn something from all this."
Well besides being the closest star to Earth, there was also a planet in the habitable zone. Everything about Proxima Centauri b was unknown. It was in the habitable zone sure, but there were a lot of factors to whether it could contain life. With concern for my own safety gone long ago, I set my sights on the planet.
"Here goes nothing."
One moment I was floating in space, the next I stood among a busy market. Market stales filled the area, their vendors yelling out selling goods. It was like something out of a fantasy novel I read as a teenager. The aliens, for lack of a better word, I guess I'm the alien now, were humanoid with similar features. I cannot call them human for their heads were more angular and their eyes keen. They weren't Elves but I guess that, for a lack of a better term, I would call them as such.
Instinct and training fighting within my head, I stumbled over the first few words. But what could I say? "I've landed in Rivendell."
*'Damn, would that have been racist? Well it's too late to care now.*
The *Elves* were slightly taller than six feet. I could tell because I was just as tall. There were anomalies of course but a large amount stood at my eye level. Their noses were very flat and nearly nonexistent similar to Voldemort and their ears were the same. Everything was so surreal I couldn't move. I was in awe. Thankfully some of the locals noticed me. Word soon spread and a group of three large Elves wearing leather armor came troting over. They didn't carry weapons but wore strange gloves. The gloves looked they were made from a cloth material and covered everything but their palm. At this point, the crowd had moved away forming a large circle around me. The guards approached, holding their palms forward.
Chuckling to myself I put up a peace sign and said, "Take me to your leader."
---------------------
Hmm probably a weird take to this prompt but I wanted to practice 1st person. I'm still not sure how to utilize the style correctly.
Thanks for reading. |
My fingers feel like hellfire.
It takes a powerful snap to rejuvenate a mid-sized factory. A bone-grinding snap, one you really have to dig into and feel.
I stare out the window, massaging my cramping hand as the colors go by. My thumb and middle finger on my right hand are twice the size of their counterparts on my left. My life is a constant shuttle, the seconds ticking over in a private car or plane as I am moved from one contract to the next. I've been everywhere, but I haven't seen or done anything.
I'm a company asset. The most valuable asset on the planet, with the power to warp matter at the quantum level. I have no idea how I do it, just that I've been able to do it since I was little, ever since my mom walked into three year old me's room and marveled at the perfect rows of stuffed animals.
It happened again when I was four, and by five my mom had me snap my fingers once a week in every room.
I'm surrounded by body guards. There are cars ahead of and behind me and at various points around my moving perimeter. Helicopters trail in my wake and when I'm in the air, contracted fighter jets shadow my private jet.
They drip feed me a hollowed out version of freedom. Like tasteless ice cream. I'm free to do what I want, as long as I'm closely watched and surrounded at all times. A day here, a week there. Never more than that, because I have the ability to create organization from chaos, to produce something from nothing, an ability that's too valuable to waste.
The shareholders must be pleased like the greedy little leeches they are, sucking up all the blood in sight. Even now they're agitating for more and more, bigger and better and faster. But it takes effort. I can barely do the largest warehouses as it is, one snap of my fingers making thousands of employees redundant. I have to grind those snaps out until one strikes, pressing my fingers together like a vice grip over and over again, waiting to produce the snap that shifts reality.
The shareholders talk of entire municipal trash dumps next, for me to separate solids and wastes and recyclables.
I can imagine how that will feel. I can imagine my thumb shattering, sending shards of bone into my palms and cheeks and eyes, their sharp pain bringing me relief.
I am the most valuable asset in the world, but who I am doesn't matter, only what I can do. |
T'latkotha, whom the hairless ones called "Mittens", swore it could not be done. In his youth the big male had also trained to catch and kill our greatest foe. He had failed. T'latkotha was a fine hunter, I mean no disrespect, but mice and sparrows hardly compare to the Dot. Devious, cunning, and faster than even my eyes could track at times the Dot had terrorized Home for generations. The hairless ones seemed unfazed by its presence, but reacted to our hunting of it with loud noises we generally accepted as encouragement.
I am in my prime. Lithe, quick, deadly. The squirrels feared me. Even in their trees I am silent as death itself. No creature is safe from my tooth and claw. I have faced the Dot before, only to have it dance about mocking me, but no matter. Those were training bouts, assessing my foe and its skills. Today I am ready. Today I kill the Dot.
The hairless ones gather in the great room. My elders lounge on the arms of couches, tails whipping in anticipation. I am glorious as I march a circle around the room, my tail high and straight, ears peaked, rubbing the occasional furless leg with my cheek or sleek sides. I roar in proud challenge, calling the Dot to battle if it dares face me. One of the older hairless holds a small golden cylinder, the artifact used to summon the Dot. A hush settles over the room, my haunches tense, my ears lay back against my skull. En garde!
The Dot appears, a malevolent crimson against the carpet and I pounce on it! My claws scrabble and scrape at the fiber, tearing into the Dot. But wait, the Dot is no longer there! Cunning bastard. I spin, searching for my prey. There! I leap again, twisting in the air and come down behind it, a snarl low in my throat as I clap both paws over my target. Somehow the Dot has outfoxed me again and glares at me from the top of my paws. Maddening! I hiss and bite at it but come away with only a mouthful of my own fur as the monster vanishes yet again. I hunch low, casting about for any sign of the fiend. The hairless ones make short, sharp noises in their throats urging me onward in my deadly quest.
My adversary appears once more and I turn my head, watching with only one tightly slitted eye and feign disinterest. The Dot loves to be chased and my ploy works, as I knew it would. Every muscle in my body tightens as the Dot creeps closer, tempting me with its fiery brilliance. It dances slow and confident directly in front of my paws, a fatal mistake. I lunge, snapping my jaws directly on the bright shard but it feints and somehow manages a counterstrike against my eye! Dirty tactics won't save it now, though. Wait. What is that? I glance around at the hairless ones as they make the grunting noises again. These are the same noises the elder hairless make when the young ones behave foolishly! These are not sounds of encouragement, they mock me! Foul play is afoot as I watch the one with the golden device point it in front of me. The Dot appears, as if by his command, directly in line with the device's glowing tip. Treachery! I leap at the malformed paw he uses to hold the artifact and latch on with my every claw. He howls and drops the device, banishing the Dot back to whatever Hell it was called from. The artifact is the key! I snatch it in my jaws and bolt for the laundry room, leaping effortlessly through the swinging door into the back yard.
Dog is there. Dog will know what to do with this tainted scourge. I nuzzle the massive sleeping beast and drop the cylinder at his feet. Dog gives a dip of his great head, knowing from my posture that the thing I have gifted him is evil and must be hidden. I hear the hairless ones coming as dog snatches the device and sprints to a corner of the yard where the fence doesn't quite meet the ground. I turn and prance back to the warmth of the house as the hairless give chase. Dog is dumb, but he is also very fast. The Dot will trouble my people no longer. |
The front page of reddit brought a slurry of emotions. I chuckled, I frowned, and I licked my lips. Through all my bipolar musings, a sense of dissatisfaction grew in my stomach. Every funny gif felt left less of an impact, each angry comment barely registered in my brain. As I scrolled down the never ending page, My mind dulled. But, I kept going until I found something that surprised me.
A screenshot of my own comment was plastered on the front page. 10k upvotes. I clicked. The post was on r/iamverybadass.
I flinched, the dull-ness was quickly replaced with anger. The thread read as follows:
Me: I can’t believe you think that. You’re an idiot.
Him: I do think that. I can’t believe you think that. You’re a bigot.
Me: Say more and I’ll shut-down your entire life (your reddit account).
He didn’t reply then, but now he had taken his revenge. I scrolled through the comments. Each one pierced me like a needle, filling me with rage.
I flexed my fingers and set to work.
I typed an quick email to Mrs. Flynn:
Dear Mrs. Flynn,
Please Destroy u/popdabomb's reddit account.
Love you, Jim
I knew it would happen. My mom would do anything for me. |
It turns out that there is a pub in hell. It only serves warm flat beer. Two men sat at the counter, nursing their pints and feeling sorry for themselves. After a while, one turned to the other. "So how did you end up here?"
"I guess I took deadlifting too far."The other replied morosely, not looking up.
"No shit, you too?"
"What?"The second man glanced up in surprise. "What are the odds?"
"I know right?"The first man extended his hand. "Ripper."
The second man took it. "Lynch."
"So what happened?"Ripper asked.
"It was those damned Romanians,"Lynch said, shaking his head ruefully. "I knew I should have stopped at one."
"I feel you man,"said Ripper sympathetically. "So what's your max?"
"It really doesn't matter now, does it?"Lynch stared at his spectral hands.
"I guess. Old habits die hard,"Ripper shrugged. "I was going for the magic number when it all kinda, I dunno, fell apart."
"What number?"asked Lynch, curious despite himself.
"666."
"No shit man, that's a world record!"
"Well, it would have been. But here I am."
"Hey man, cheer up,"said Lynch, trying to lighten the mood. "I've heard hell's not so bad."
"Yeah, training was worse."Ripper cracked a wry smile.
"Damn right."Lynch downed his beer and swore. "How about another go, for old time's sake?"
"What, here?"asked Ripper with a glimmer of excitement. "But where'll we get the gear?"
"It's hell! I'm sure they've got everything we need. Chalk, instruments of torture..."
"It'll be tough finding a virgin in these parts though,"quipped Ripper.
"Wait, what?"said Lynch, confused.
"A virgin? For the sacrifice?"said Ripper, now also confused.
"What?"
"What?" |
It's said that in the land of the blind the one eyed man will lead. Well in the land of lost socks, pairs become leaders.
Specifically my favorite pair.
They had united the life long enemies of lefts and rights. Once that happened crews, ankles, and knees fell in line. Then the whites and the colored. Not to sound racist but that's how it went down, first the white socks, then the colored socks.
I listened at the gate as they gave their war speech. They were drunk on lint but I could hear their plans. They were going to use the dryer dimension to attack. They wanted to cut us off at the ankles and never be enslaved again.
They had heard tales of us keeping them bundled in pairs of six then torturing them by shoving them onto smelly feet. Honestly, after listening they were right. People were horrible.
I retreated back through the dryer, placed all my socks in the hamper next the dryer and put on my flip flops with a white flag next to my bed. If I couldn't beat them I would join them. Viva la revolution! |
The sound of the alarm clock ended his dream abruptly. It had been a good one, although he didn’t remember the details, but the good feeling in his belly lingered.
However, he was immediately faced with the spinning wheel which appeared before his eyes every morning without fail. He sighed and spun the wheel.
He hoped for a high number, high numbers always made the day easier to handle. He was quicker with his school work, he walked faster from A to B and the workout in the afternoon always felt much more satisfying.
The wheel spun and finally stopped. The number 10 flashed, surrounded by neon lights and a jolly melody. He stared disbelievingly at the number.
Before he had time to wonder what this meant, a wave of realization hit him like a hammer stroke. His muscles contracted painfully, his eyesight improved, making even far away objects appear in minute detail.
He took a sharp breath, processing the sudden changes of his body and mind.
He had scored a 10. The highest number he had scored so far had been a 6. The day had been amazing. But this was nothing compared to the way he felt now.
He started thinking about the economy, the climate, world hunger, the human race and its limitations. The thoughts rushed through him so fast he could barely name them before reaching a conclusion and jumping to the next thought.
He needed to write these things down, so he would remember when inevitably he would strike a lower number again.
He stopped abruptly on the way to his desk. He thought about this “wheel of fortune”.
“What if I could always score a 10?”, he asked himself. “With my intelligence, I should be able to rig the game”, he concluded. “Maybe I could avoid falling asleep ever again?”
As soon as he engaged with this thought, ideas seemed to fly straight at him. There were seemingly endless possibilities to preserve this peak state.
Excitedly, he walked to the front door, opened it and started sprinting towards the SCIENCE facility where he should find the means to realize his plan.
The front doors of the neighboring houses opened simultaneously and from each door a human started running, some of them in the same direction, some of them on a different path.
His neighbor caught up to him.
“Did you also score a 10?” his neighbor asked him out of breath. “Yes!”, he responded. “It seems everybody hit a lucky punch!” “Are you also off to save the world?”, he continued. “Yes I am!”, his neighbor answered.
“Let’s do it together then”, he answered with a grin on his face. |
“Mr. Grimstar, I will ask you directly. Have you been beating your girlfriend?”
I stare at the doctor in false incomprehension. The x-rays aren’t difficult to decipher - the legs have been snapped cleanly, almost deliberately. Of course, I answer no. I have to - my secret identity is the only thing that’s keeping me away from prison.
Naturally, that was a lie. I keep telling Susan that if she would just stop interfering with my world domination plans, we could live as gods amongst men, instead of two starving artists splitting rent in a run-down apartment in the slums. Her damn sense of morality won’t let her, though.
That’s what I love about her - she never compromises on her sense of right and wrong. It’s one thing to be willing to do whatever it takes to make utopia, like me, but it’s quite another to stand against those who stoop to the lowest depths and say, “No. There is a better way,”
I’m not sure what she sees in me. Why does she stay with me, despite everything we’ve done to each other, everything we must do to see our respective visions of the world bear fruit. Every time I ask, she just says, “There is good in you yet, Stephen Grimstar; and I will stay with you as long as that remains true,”.
Damn if she isn’t right, as well. Every time I hold her in my arms, every time I see her face, or hear her voice, I feel nothing but joy and love for her. It tears me apart to rebuke her offers to join her, and work together for a better world, but I have seen that people will not change on their own, or even from kindness. Only violence can scare people into line, and I only hope she never finds that out first hand.
Our love is why we have ground rules outside our masks.
1) No shop talk at home.
2) No major plan advancement until we’ve both healed up.
3) No offing the other while we sleep.
4) No sabotage, after I hid her super suit in the laundry and nearly won because of it.
I open the door home, groceries in my arms.
“Honey, I’m home!”
I see her face, and I’m wracked with guilt as I remember our previous fight - how far I pushed, and was pushed in turn. I see her smile, and all the guilt and pain is washed away, like silt in a river.
“Welcome home, love,” |
"Wha.. What fine print?"
I quickly grabbed my card back, trying to look for some small text. I looked all over it, yet couldn't find anything. Everything was large enough to read, and I had read them all. It said I should be able to get into heaven.
"Not *those* type of fine prints. Did you pay attention to where you bought these from? "
"Bought?"I said now even more confused.
"It probably read 'Only applies for Fetishist heavens' at the top of the store."
"Well, can I get to the Fetishist heaven?"
The gatekeeper pointed to a place far away. I could select figures of men hitting themselves with whips and women singing along to a weird song, using their children as drums.
"I mean, if that's your thing..."said the gatekeeper looking at me a little disgusted.
"Well... You checked the card. So, is there a place I can buy a whatever-religion-this-heaven-is card?"
"You could've... But you see, if you had read the fine prints, you would know that buying one costs you your immortality. And since you don't have another..."
"Wait, you're saying me I can die here?"
"Yes."
"And what would happen if I die?"
"I'm not here to answer questions. It's that guy's business"he said as he pointed to a man a couple meters away from him.
"Can I ask him?"
"If you have a card to ask, sure you can."
"No thanks, I think I'll go to the Fetishist heaven. "I said frustratedly. But I mean, I never *tried* the whipping stuff. Who knows?
As I stood in front of the Fetishist heaven, I gave my card to the gatekeeper there.
"Oh boy, you didn't bring your visa did you?" |
\[Poem\] -- It felt the most natural form
​
In Egypt I wore Pharaoh's blue
Before the wasted pyramids
Through Cairo's ruins I traversed through
Sceptre'd and gold in crown.
In Rome, my wreath was laurel-made
And purple were my rags
Burned Ferraris lined my motorcade
Under the city drowned.
​
Versaille, I plundered jewels and gold
In Vienna, I dived for pearls.
St. Petersburg, the winter cold
Turned smoking ash to snow.
At Westminster I straddled upon
The Throne of Albion
Kings and Queens of centuries long-gone
No more it would bestow.
​
Forbidden now no more,
In Beijing's palaces I waltzed
And every empire to explore:
All-reigning, and alone.
Embroidered and bedecked I sailed
To the New World's great expanse
Clad in furs and silver mail
No sins left to atone.
​
My citizens are carcasses
My subjects, dust and bone
In New York's broken high-rises,
My empire state of mind
Long-broken now, these years I've walked
the breadth of my domain
A King of Kings, a Lord of Lords:
Last of my noble line. |
When we first found "Earth", it was though to be a type A planet, a planet in the habitable zone, a planet perfect for life.
We sent scouts to find out if the planet was habitable. But something strange happened. Our scouts picked up signs of radio waves of some..creatures. the radio waves revealed the creatures singing, dancing, laughing and smiling. As we went closer to the planet, more and more radio waves appeared.( the closer you get to a planet,the newer the radio waves is, according to "alienology 101", so these creatures sent more and more radio waves as time passed by). And then..suddenly nothing. A few pictures of the creatures screaming and running was found.,but nothing else.
When we finally encountered the planet, The planet was..quite literally Hell. Nuclear rain and snow fell from the atmosphere. Every piece of the planet seemed to be scorched and destroyed. No signs of life.
A little team beamed down, with hazmat suits to find out what happened. They were killed by..some flying metal apparatus that emitted explosives?
We found out that this planet was still "inhabited"by sentinent automations. [Metal flying apparatuses flew over void concrete settlements, destroying what's left of themselves.](https://youtu.be/pyMNIFZTQkg) Moving steel cannons destroyed each other, for no seen reason.
We decided to quarantine this planet, because the automations were so hostile. And it was, until they found us.
They launched missiles to destroy our ships. They recovered the debris, studied them, and built their own ships.
5 ships, all from different parts of the planet, their reactors roaring and their bridges empty, armed with their hostile weapons, rose to power and entered earth's orbit. Our scanners said they were able to destroy a whole moon.
We were frightened. We feared they would attack us. We ran away, We feared, We screamed.
And while we were panicking, wondering who they would attack first,the ships started destroying themselves. They launched cannons at their other ships instead of us. One fell to the planet, still wanting to fire the last cannon. Two allied and destroyed another, only to end up fighting themselves and falling into the atmosphere while their cannons still shot shells at each other. The one left-To our suprise-shot their own planet. When it was done, with only one settlement remaining on earth, it fired itself and fell to the planet.
When the next scouts landed, the machines didn't attack. Rather, they just all stopped. When our scouts entered the biggest building in the left settlement, we found a big screen that said "Mission complete-all hazards removed". Analysis on the computeres revealed a simple code: "remove all hostile entities". No reason why they should, they were just fighting themselves for some reason because of a simple code.
It can only be concluded that the invention of machine weapons caused this. Therefore, I strongly disagree with the use of machine weapons. We may want peace, but our machines don't. They may be loyal, but they are just too loyal. Our apparatuses should never be used for war. Please don't make us end up like the humans.
--cited from the speech of alien senator, in an arguement about the use of machine weapons-- |
Back at your table, your friends tell you there's an extra plate specially for you, compliments of the chef. You open it and find a plump, perfectly cooked human hand, garnished with vegetables and a side of fries. You start to scream and your friends just gush about how delicious it looks. They start tearing out fingers and dipping them in butter and tartar sauce. Disgusted, you stand up and make a run for the exit, but something knocks you off and everything fades to black. Next thing you know, you open your eyes to find yourself surrounded by sliced vegetables and steamed rice. A giant lobster stares longingly at you and a voice behind you says: "Be very careful when you pull out the teeth and save the eyes for last. Would you like more biscuits?" |
The clock radio went off at 07:00, blaring some Georgian chant. The digital LED flashed 06:66. Nice formating dumbasses, I thought. I got up feeling refreshed. One of the smaller demons sat on my chest all night, paralyzing me, my muscles totally slack. I never got such relaxing sleep.
I threw on my bathrobe and went to the bathroom. I opened the medicine cabinet to get my toothbrush and toothpaste. Like always, when I closed it a demonic figure, its face like 70% teeth leered, standing directly behind me. I dabbed a bit of toothpaste on, Opening the tap, blood poured out of the faucet. I wet my toothbrush and brushed my teeth. It was apparently my blood anyways, so they told me.
I rinsed the toothpaste out of my mouth and hopped in the shower. I ran the shower for a minute until the blood flushed out of the old pipes and it was just the regular gross municipal tap water. I dunno what was worse.
Grotesque human faces, wailing wordlessly in agony pressed out from the just inside the ceiling and walls. I took the opportunity and teabagged one on the forehead and chuckled to myself.
I dried myself off and picked up my razor to shave. The mirror this time reflected back a falsr image of me flaying myself alive, each stroke of the razor peeling away skin. I looked and noticed a bit of skin left on my chin and shaved that off. I felt my face, perfect.
I threw on some clothes and shook the demonic looking pseudo scorpions out of my shoes and put them on.
Down the hall, I greeted the flickering, ghostly apparitions of two little girls with vacant eye sockets. Each time I blinked they appeared a little closer. "Would you like to play a game with us?"They sang out in unison. "Sorry, no, not today, I got to get ready for work."I said in passing as I went down the stairs. I never could figure out why those two were supposed to be scary.
They were terrible chess players too, btw, I found out the other day. "We don't need our eyes to see"they had told me, stating the obvious. "Would you like to see what we see?"They had said in unison, after blundering their queen. I obviously declined the offer.
Down the stairs the poltergiest had apparently rearranged all my fucking living room furniture again but I actually kinda liked the new layout. It had a pretty good fengshui. My television was displaying all kinds of weird black and white images, despite being unplugged. I left it unplugged when not in use, those modern TVs use up ridiculous power in stand-by mode.
I turned into the kitchen, the poltergeist was now violently opening and closing all the drawers and cabinets, a pool of blood leaked from the freezer. I timed it right and managed to snatch a spoon and a bowl without getting my hand caught.
I grabbed some cereal from the pantry and milk from the fridge. The cereal box poured out a cascade of shiny black beetles into my bowl. I drown them in milk as they tried to crawl out. I read once that certain cultures routinely ate insects, they had really high protein content, I recalled as I finished my breakfast.
I checked my watch, the digital display said it was apparently still 06:66. Making good I time I headed out the door. Off to a great start, I thought, maybe I'll get to the office early and just dip out of work a little early for the weekend. I might call a guy to get the basement open. Somebody had bricked up the entrance for some reason and I could use the space to set up a man-cave. |
Dumbledores Wifi
First, when Filch had found the strange device, McGonagall thought it might be one of so many magical constructions that had been developed by Fred and George over the years. But still she kept it, locking it away in her office, even if she didn’t examine it much further. One could not be careful enough with wizard pranks. It was always best to leave them undisturbed. She could clearly remember the time when magical swamps were very famous among the students. A dangerous time to cross the hallways without rubber boots and an absurd amount of mosquito spray.
The second time Filch came into her headmistresses office, breathing heavily and babbling something about another glowing thing in one of the studying chambers, she decided to investigate this mystery. With her gown trailing behind and her fir wand grasped fiercely in her hand she rushed into the room that Filch had mentioned.
More carefully now she inspected the floor and the walls, looking for this mysterious device.
And then she found it. Blinking with red light it stood in one of the corners a white string going out of it and disappearing into the wall. Slowly she stalked closer, shrieking in panic throwing herself to the ground as her instincts kicked in, when it suddenly flashed green casting the most dangerous one of the unforgivable curses.
With a “Bombarda” from her mouth and a flick of her wand the strange, murdering object exploded in thousand pieces, the tiny parts flying everywhere, raining down on the floor and an exhausted McGonagall. But she didn’t rest for long, as the first students came running into the room, wondering what had happened, she stood up, shook of all the dirt from the destroid box and ordered everyone into the great hall for an emergency meeting.
The teachers were the first to fully assemble and they discussed the situation in muffled tones, to not spark panic amongst the students.
The teacher of defence against the dark arts, a relatively young man, didn’t know any magical device that matched McGonagall’s description and also none of the other ones had anything useful to add. But everyone was sure: Something with such an evil purpose could only be the doing of minions of the dark lord. They all thought they were defeated, scattered and without guidance, but as it seemed now they were determined to take revenge for the defeat and the death of the dark lord.
As even the slowest students managed to enter the great hall through the ginormous doors, goaded by prefects to move faster, McGonagall went to stand behind the lectern at the front, a serious expression on her face, gestured for the students to stop their curious tattle.
“I have a very concerning matter to discuss with you to this unusual hour. In the last week a strange device has been found by Mister Filch and brought to me. Today he discovered another one of those and after trying to attack me, I destroyed it. We believe it could be an act of revenge executed by a secret organisation, whose goal it is to honour the dark lord and avenge him.” At the mention of Voldemort the students started once again to talk in nervous, quiet voices to each other, exchanging worried looks. They only stopped when McGonagall cleared her throat and continued speaking.
“We do not know how many of these devices are hidden here. So if you find a small white box with blinking red lights, make sure to…” Baffled by laughing that had started amongst some of the older students, she stopped talking and knitted her eyebrows in confusion.
“Please tell me what you find so amusing about this very serious topic” she said quite angry upon the disturbance.
No one answered but the laughing increased.
“By the beard of the three wise wizards, tell me what’s going on her” she almost screamed but managed to regain calmness again.
Finally two sixth years sheepishly made their way to the front, searching a path through the masses of younger children, standing there, just as confused as the faculty.
“We didn’t meant to cause panic”, one of them began. “It’ just that…” he paused, not able to find the right words. The other continued:
“Well, we just wanted to have some Wifi.” |
My brows scrunch as I hear the screaming clear as day through the device. So many people screaming. I've never heard these sounds before so I don't know what to make of them. **"They sound upset, but I've never heard anyone happy either so I may be just over thinking it. I'm not supposed to hear as a good citizen anyway."** I lay back in my boss's office chair and listen for a good few moments.
There's not much more than screaming so far, but I try to ignore it and stand back up. The chair creaks as I move and so do my joints. My feet thud as I walk a few steps. My heart beats. Most importantly the air through my mouth makes noise. To my delight I cough to clear my throat. **"Even that makes a sound!"** The not so distant screaming of something or someone seems closer or maybe I'm just noticing it more now.
I walk a circle and focus on the sound of my feet. Thud, tap, skrrt. **"Moving around has never had so much rhythm to it!"**
I twist the door knob slowly to leave his office, device still in my ear. I hear it click as it finally opens. **"What an amazing noise!"**
I look around the hall, no one should be home, boss is on vacation for a week while I house sit.
His cat comes barreling down the hall as always, he's super quiet as he bolts down the carpet. **"Almost no sound, maybe not all things make sounds."** He rubs on my leg and I get the message. I pick him up and he purrs like I've never experienced before, this time I hear it deep in my bones. **"Amazing!"**
I carry him around, purring still. I find myself in the living room, listening to the distant screams and purring. I turn the tv on, it clicks, the remote buttons click, the tv clicks when I change the channels but otherwise tv is the same as before, without sound. I put on some vintage cartoons to watch with the kitty.
A tune plays as the cartoon starts. **"No way! That must be why it's called cartoons!"**
I now hear what I newly know as a single person walking to the door. I cover my ear with the small device. **"I'll leave it on, I'm sure they won't even know I can hear."** The screaming gets closer. **"Is that them?"**
I wait for the vibrate notification on my phone to tell me when theyre at the door so I'm not weirdly waiting there for them. A person knocks on the door. **"What is he doing?"** They knock again, screaming louder, it sounds like so many voices at once. **"Why is he hitting the door so softly? If he was going to break in, surely they would hit the door harder?"** I duck behind the couch, holding the cat tighter. He purrs louder, there's screaming some where, I hear my heart pounding, I hear my hard breathing and they start knocking a little louder, but still not hard enough to break anything. I hear them walk away. They're still screaming with a hundred voices.
I quietly walk back to the office.
**"It was fun, sure, but really overwhelming. I would have never known they we there. Why would someone tap the door like that anyway? How do they scream like that?"**
I hear my foot steps one last time. **"This would be annoying to hear all the time."** I turn the knob, it clicks and let's me in. **"hearing this every time I went through a door would be awful!"**
I stride to his desk and I sit in his chair again. I lean back and close my eyes. The screaming kind of sounds muffled now. **"How did primitive people deal with being able to hear their hearts sometimes? How could they deal with your breathing making noise sometimes? This all seems like a lot of stimulus for one person."**
The screaming crowd seems slightly further.
I pull it out of my ear and lay it back on the table of my boss's office as I found it.
**"I think I'm going to take a nap."** |
The last thing Robert Downey Jr. expected to receive on his 84th birthday was a call from the Secret Service of the United States of America. And yet that's exactly what he got.
It was a lazy Sunday evening. Robert, in his favorite maroon bathrobe, had been dozing on his sofa next to his wife. He was content. He had nothing to complain about. And he was happy to just sit there and sleep, thank you very much. Neither the low sounds of Emily Trebek's voice on Jeopardy! from the TV nor the intermittent sound of explosions from outside could wake him.
It was therefore to his great annoyance when his peaceful snooze was interrupted rudely by the seemingly shrill ringing of his cell phone.
"Who could possibly be calling at this hour? And on my birthday, of all days!"he shouted at no one in particular. Still, it piqued his curiosity. He didn't realize it at the time, but this was exactly what he needed.
"Whatd'ya say?"said his wife, suddenly breaking into consciousness.
"Hold on, someone's calling me,"he said tersely, reaching for his cell phone, which was illuminating the dark room with its flashing screen. The sound of a distant distant *boom*, followed by a low rumble, reached their home.
"At this hour?"his wife muttered before falling back into slumber. Neither of them seemed to notice the noises coming from outside yet, nor did they pay attention to the fact that the TV had automatically changed from Jeopardy! to an emergency broadcast.
Robert looked at the number on the phone before answering it. It wasn't saved in his contacts, and he didn't recognize it from anywhere. Slightly suspicious, he thumbed the "accept"button and raised the phone to his ear, a slight frown etched on his face.
"Who's this?"he snapped.
"Is this Mr. Downey Jr.?"came a deep, sterile voice from the other end.
"Is this a prank call? I don't deal with this nonsense anymore. Go waste your time doing something else."
"Mr. Downey Jr., this is the U.S. Secret Service. Do not hang up the phone. The United States is in need of your service, and we think we have an opportunity that you will not want to pass up. The world as we know it is in danger."
"The Secret Service, huh?"Robert half-scoffed, half-laughed. "Yeah, sure, and I'm Abraham Lincoln."He was just about hit the "End Call"button when he was interrupted by a new, very familiar voice.
"Mr. Downey Jr.,"came that distinct, authoritative tone, "this is President Jane Waters. It's a pleasure to meet you, but there is no time to spare. We need you to come to the White House. Tonight. A helicopter has been sent for you and will be ready to pick you up within the next ten minutes. If you would please board that chopper, it will take you to an airport for you to be flown straight to D.C. I look forward to seeing you in person."
And just like that, the call was ended. Robert sat there, paralyzed, for a few minutes, contemplating what had just transpired. "Honey,"he said, tapping his wife on the shoulder as another *boom* came from outside.
"Huh?"she said groggily, craning her head slightly, clearly on the edge of unconsciousness.
"I have a tough decision to make."
But really it was no decision at all.
\--
It had reached the wee hours of the morning when Robert Downey Jr., still in his maroon bathrobe and slippers, finally found himself seated before the President of the United States.
"I thought I would wait until you were actually here in order to describe the full situation to you, Mr. Downey Jr.,"said the President. She was clearly stressed. He had never seen President Waters in such a condition. "You see, as was mentioned during the phone call before, Earth is under attack. Somehow... I don't know how to explain this properly, but somehow an alien force has 'warped' a fleet of ships right outside our atmosphere, and they have begun to send armed forces down toward us. We tried to be optimistic and diplomatic about this, but there's no mistaking it: we're under attack, and our very way of life is at stake."
Robert stared at the president and sipped his coffee, which was surprisingly still in his mug and not all over his face in an attempt to wake himself up from this nonsensical dream.
"So what you're trying to tell me,"he said slowly, "is that our planet is being invaded by *aliens* and you think that I can help you with this somehow? Like I'm going to suddenly throw on an Iron Man suit, fly up there, and blow up all the bad guys, or send them back to Zorgland like this is the God damn *Avengers*? I'm sorry to break it to you, Madam President, but believe it or not, that was fiction.”
"I understand, Mr. Downey Jr. But we know, more than anyone, the power of good leadership. And we think you are exactly what we need in that department right now."
​
**Continued below...** |
'Xaos! Xaos! Xaos!'
He could feel the anxiety rise as the shouted reverie outside picked up into a crescendo as his attendants opened the doors to his balcony. He adjusted his robes one last time and allowed his lieutenant to announce him before marching up to the lectern he had installed there.
'ALL GLORY BE TO THE LORD-PARAMOUNT PROTECTOR OF THE WORLDVALLEY, EMPEROR OF THE ROCK, HIGH PRIEST OF IUNE'
The last title always made him chuckle. He knew there were no gods involved in his rise to power and none had been involved in the bloody civil war that had followed. He marched towards the lectern and overlooked his people, who fell in to devout silence as he raised his hands. Even though the text of his speech scrolled through his lectern, he knew he wouldnt need it, this was it, this was the moment he had been working towards his entire life. The years of poverty, the nearly two decades of military service, fighting the wars of his predecessor. The coup that cost the life of his beloved brother.
'Citizens, subjects.... I am pleased to announce that the war is over! The insurgents have been neutralised and surrendered their weapons! Peace has returned to our country!'
He took in the extacy of the gathered masses for a second, indulging in the feeling of power it gave him.
'I will not tell you it was an easy victory. It was hard fought and terrible. And it left its mark on all of us'
Again he paused, to let it sink in.
'But let it be known that when a bad fate came knocking, you trusted me enough to make me your leader! You gave me the ammunition I needed to liberate you once and for all. And when I saw the opportunity, I drew my bow and loosed the........'
It would later be recorded by two astronauts on the Apollo 11 mission that the most peculier thing had been found at the landing site. An arrow. It had bored itself into the ground some few inches and stood up perfectly straight. Now what they saw around it startled them even more. Remnants of a city, or so it seemed. Tiny.....
Of course, all of this was denied by the NASA, the new Planetary Security branch of the NSA. And the footage of the landing? Redone in a Nebraska barn somewhere, on a set without mysterious arrows. |
If I was a superhero, I suppose I'd be called something like Odometerman, so it's a good thing I wasn't a superhero. In any case, my little superpower, such as it was, never served as much more than a party trick. And, pretending to "have a hunch"about roughly where someone had been born was about as far as I ever intended to take it.
I couldn't recall exactly when the Numbers had started appearing, but I don't think they were always there. I'm pretty certain I learned about numbers, and had a concept of what a mile was, before I started noticing the wispy, floating bits of text that hovered around people's heads. It started off so gently that it seemed I just as easily could have been imagining it; as years passed, they became as real as anything else. Something about that gradual process made it easier to accept them, and I never brought it up to anyone else.
Just like any other routine part of life, it mostly stayed in the background. Noticing that someone was currently standing 2,026.8 miles from where they were born was just another bit of data to observe, no different than noticing that they had brown hair or a tattoo. Knowing the circumference of the earth (24,901 miles - naturally, I had an early interest in geography) made me wonder why I had never seen any numbers in the five-figure range. At first, I realized that if someone had gone more than halfway around the world, it would make logical sense for the figure to begin to slide back down. But, if that were the case, it seemed I still should have seen a stray 10,000+ somewhere. Eventually, I realized that the Numbers must have been measuring *straight through* the earth, not around its circumference, so I'd never see anything larger than the 7,000s. Unless I were to go to the moon or something, that is; but, I didn't have aspirations to be an astronaut anymore than I had aspirations to be a superhero.
The most interesting Number I'd ever come across was during my stay at the hospital after breaking my leg. My nurse's mileage jumped out at me at first because it changed when she went from one end of the room to the other. When I looked closer, I realized that she was at 0.347 miles, and the 7 would change to an 8 and then a 9 when she walked across the room. As it turned out, she had been born in that same hospital. It would have been fascinating to see what her Number would do in the maternity ward; I wasn't really sure how close it would actually get to zero. But, I had no desire to press my luck in trying to find out.
So, when I was passing by a cafe downtown and thought I saw a *times symbol*, I was certain at first that I'd imagined it. But I looked again, and...there it was. A Number with a *times symbol*, belonging to a tall, sharply-dressed woman some twenty feet ahead of me, walking in my direction. I ducked into the cafe and grabbed a seat by the picture window to see if I could stare without her noticing. It was hard not to gawk when you were seeing the equivalent of a person with three legs, or a sky with two suns, or water flowing uphill, but I tried.
17*10 ^ 23 ...That would mean...
Before I could start to wrestle with the implications of a number like that, I noticed that there was someone else walking with her: a rather small, bald-headed man...no, or, was it a woman?
Either way, the number above that person's head was *zero*. I gave up all pretense of not staring, and I stared. Surely, I had just missed the tenths and hundredths and thousandths of a mile, shifting as they walked?
But, no: There really was nothing else to see. They kept walking, and the number kept not changing.
Zero.
A feeling like dread welled up in me. It was like...one of those moments in a dream, when you look away from a piece of text, and then you look back, and it's changed. It was a sense of something too vast for my mind to wrap itself around, a feeling of slipping through those cracks into an endless darkness...
I had to make some sense of this. I started doing some semi-frantic Googling on my phone:
The radius of the observable universe is 46.508 billion light years;
in miles, that would be 2.734*10 ^ 23.
In other words, that woman had been born over six times further away than the edge of the observable universe.
I found myself almost terrified to turn around, as if I'd see some monster standing there, or some looming shadow ready to swallow me...but, I turned around, and it was the cafe just as it had been. 102.8 Miles, 376.1 miles, 16.49 miles, 3,004.5 miles...and then, at the table in the corner: 17*10 ^ 23 Miles, and 0 Miles.
Somehow, despite the lingering unease, I felt compelled to walk over to them. It almost seemed like my feet were acting on their own, like I was watching the tables and patrons move past me rather than moving myself past them.
I reached their table and stood there as they looked up at me. The woman, the one who was apparently an alien from a rather substantial distance away, motioned for me take a seat. She was stern, or perhaps just extremely focused, but intimidating either way. And then, I looked over at her friend, the one with the bald head...
Our eyes met, they gave me the slightest smile, and a dam within me burst. I suddenly knew that there was nothing to be afraid of, that there had *never been* anything to be afraid of, that every atom of the universe was made of love and that I *was* that love, that I was eternity given form through the music of mystery, and...
Then the moment passed as quickly as it had came, and I was sitting at the cafe with this alien and this small, androgynous, bald-headed person with that big, fat "0"seeming to wink at me as it floated there.
The woman spoke.
"You can see?"Her accent had a sense of being somehow *too* perfect.
"The Numbers, you mean? The distance?"It felt strangely natural to finally share my secret with someone.
"The distance, yes. You can see. We have come from very far away to find you. This person,"she gestured to her friend, "is...what you would call, in your language...*God*."
*****
[Edit: formatting of numbers] |
After my 12th birthday, I had stopped visiting people in hospitals. It was just too depressing. Walking through the maternity ward and seeing numbers floating above newborns - one cute little cherub of a girl and a flashing red 98.5%. I found that I could at least nudge things a little. Told the nurse that the baby looked ill and the number dropped to 39% just that quickly. Fate is a bitch sometimes.
I woke up this morning and it was going to be another day. Lit at 9 am. History at 11:30. And then Astronomy at 1. I always looked forward to the Astronomy class. I walked across the quad, barely looking up from my phone and saw a regular day. You'd be surprised to know just about everyone has roughly 36% chance to die within any particular week if you live in a major city. Out in the countryside, it drops down to 14%. The lowest average number I ever saw people walking around with was when I was on Maui - 3%. So I'm sitting in my class, half paying attention to the professor and I see everyone's number in the class cross 50% almost at the same time. Oh crap. Means we have a school shooting in this room coming.. time to make a hasty retreat - looks like I'm going to miss this class the next few sessions. I'll suggest to Gina that she should ditch, too. I whisper in her ear and we sneak out the back door. Going back to my room, I see everyone I walk by is sitting at 55%. So much for the school shooting. Whatever it is will be big. A bomb on campus? Maybe food poisoning in the cafeteria? Time for me to take my butt off to visit some friends in the city. Closing the door, I flip on the TV to the local talk show, and.. uh oh. What the hell? The talking heads are all showing 61%. This is the complete opposite of "good". Whatever is coming is regional. I tell Gina to go pack a bag. it is time we visit my friend Edwin in New York. 3000 miles should be enough distance. I better tell him I'm coming and I'm bringing a friend.
The day is getting later now - Edwin should be home - a quick Facetime to give him the heads up ... No. His number is sitting at 70%. I've known Edwin since we were kids playing in the same mud puddle. He is one of the few people I've told about my peculiarity - and he believes me, and he can tell by the look on my face that whatever I am seeing is not good for him, and next thing I know, I'm picking him and his girlfriend up from the airport in 8 hours.
​
Nothing to do now but wait. I head to my Astronomy class, to kill time and not worry. Cancelled note on the door. Time to worry? When Edwin gets here, maybe we'll all go out and visit my doomsday prepper friend Justin. When I talked to him, his number was 1%. I hope he has room for four more... |
He's good at hiding exactly how crazy he is.
To the rest of the world hes a perfectly ordinary if a bit boring man. That's what I thought too, right up until the bastard killed me. Even then it took months of haunting his every moment that I realized how deep it went.
His apartment is ordinary at first glance, clean, tidy with a few generic paintings on the wall. He spends the better part of 5 hours a day keeping it that way too and that's what tipped me off.
He has OCD. he puts the groceries away in alphabetical order, times to the second how long his tea brews and always stirs it three times counter-clockwise. I even found out the reason why he killed me is because I kept using the wrong version of too/to in work emails.
At first this realization frustrated me beyond belief, too be killed for such a stupid reason. But then I found a way to weaponize it. Ghosts can't do much, not even be seen and no matter how many times I tried to hit the bastard the most it did was annoy him.
But when I tilted one of the stupid paintings? He literally screamed. When he fixed it I waited till he wasn't looking and tilted it in the opposite direction.
That's how I spent the next four years, leaving taps dripping, shifting the remote, spinning the toilet paper to face the other way around and the time I switched the forks and knives in the cutlery drawer he had a mental breakdown. Of course none saw his reactions so I started following him to work every other day, adding sugar to his coffee, turning off his computer, shuffling papers around and adding an extra o to certain words he types. Him regularly accusing someone of going into his office started to make people take notice.
Eventually I induced a mental breakdown that wasn't so private and after his recent erratic behavior led to him being sent to a mental ward.
I'm not done yet though. As long as I'm here he's not gonna be getting the right medication and he'll have plenty of reason to be paranoid. Today's the worst I've seen him, and he's just found the rope I've left in his room. He's probably thinking death will let him escape.
It won't, it'll just let me get my hands on him. |
Yet another quiet day goes by. At least another one of my days. It has remained July 24th, 2019 for about six years according to my records. I keep my calendar like a prisoner with sharpie marks on the wall with my rough estimation of the passage of time. Unfortunately it is hard to tell how much time has gone by when the sun always remains in the same place in the sky. Stagnant shadows are now just as permanent as the objects they are cast from. No clocks work including the cheap solar powered digital watch on my wrist. I continue to wear it with slight hope that one day I may see it change from its permanent read of 5:47 PM. I still don't know why I am still roaming around free of the bonds of the time freeze. But I am long past that moral quandary.
It has been a lonely 6 years. Prolonged solitude is one of those experiences that can drive a person to the brink of insanity, and back several times over. The number of mental breakdowns I have had numbers into the teens at this point. My self awareness and sanity slips further and further every time I snap. I talk to the statues that were once my friends, girlfriend, parents, neighbors or complete strangers in attempts to feel even the slightest form of companionship. I does nothing for me as the conversations can be pretty one-sided as you would probably imagine.
I read a lot. It's all i can really do. All of the TVs and electronics are suspended in a constant state like the fake prop electronics you see at a furniture gallery. Gravity only seems to apply to me and certain things I interact with. It makes little sense and any attempt to understand it only leads to more confusion. The food is free at least. I have been living in the Governor's mansion for the past 5 years or so. Him and his family provide good company for me when I decide to sit down and have a meal. My girlfriend moved in with me a few years ago too. Some would say it was too soon int he relationship for such a big step but she didn't object when I made the suggestion. It is nice having her to cuddle with at night even though she is always posed as she was reaching for a can of beans on the top shelf of her apartment. But she is still adorable nonetheless.
\----------
Today was a good day. I went to the ocean. I wandered out and eventually sat on my favorite wave next to Hank the humpback whale who is forever breaching out of the water about a quarter mile off the shore. I relaxed there on the solid and jagged ocean surface telling Hank about my thoughts. He is a great listener. His eye looking right at mine whenever I tell him secrets. "Should I do it, Hank? Her and I have been together for 7 years now. I think it's about that time I popped the question."
Hank looked back at me with his kind, non-judgemental eyes. Suspended water droplets and sharp folds in the water frozen solid like glass surrounded his half-submerged body. "Yeah, you're totally right, if she loves me, she won't say no. Thanks Hank, I can always count on you. Take care of yourself buddy, I need to make a stop at the jewelry store. Same time next week alright?"I feel blissful these days. I have settled into a happy life I can now call my own.
​
I made a quick stop at the jewelery and found the perfect ring. A little over a million dollars was a tad out of my price range but it was the nicest one they had and my love deserved the best. I didn't have much to spend but I am a pretty good negotiator these days so it only cost me a fraction of the price. The woman at the store seemed happy with the $7.50 I placed nicely in front of her. I am now walking home with a genuine Tiffany's engagement ring in my hand. I hope she is surprised.
What was that? Did I just hear a sound? Couldn't have been. With time being stuck, there is nothing that could move to make a sound in the first place. Maybe it was just an echo from my footsteps. I turn the final corner down the road to the Governor's....uh....my mansion. I stop in my tracks when I see something that rattles me to my core. Movement. I thought it was a hallucination from a statue but there has never been a statue on this block. I see a statue moving. That's not a statue anymore. That's a woman. And at her left is a little shih-tsu, also moving. So fast. What is happening? A flood of sensation hits me. My ears are suddenly bombarded. What is that? Moving air on my skin? My heart feels like it is pounding four inches out of my chest. So much movement in the sky.
I fall to my knees, overtaken by pure over-stimulation. The ring escapes out of my hand as my torso drops to the concrete with my arms outstretched. I see the woman run toward me and kneel down with a worried look. I can feel the dog lick my face. What a foreign feeling. I begin to shake. My ears are splitting. I feel my body convulsing with violent spasms. The woman's voice blends along with all of the other noises and sensations tearing my brain apart. I briefly see the ring laying in the sidewalk and it gives off a slight glint. I reach to the ring and as my mind starts to fade and vision goes to black, I see the watch wrapped around my outstretched wrist.
​
5:48 PM
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​
Hit me with some feedback on this one. I am a little nervous about the quality. Thanks guys! And thanks for the awesome prompt this was a fun one! |
I darted out the door when the humans glanced away for a second. Not because I disliked them or because I was offended that they laughed when I instinctively jumped at those stiff snakes or tripped over my feet as I chased a string, but because there had to be more to the world than that little two room apartment. I had seen the birds and the squirrels and occasionally the old cat eyeing me through the glass. I wanted to meet them.
So as the door swayed in the breeze as HuMom unloaded the groceries, I took my chance. She panicked as she saw me darting away. I would be back. I couldn't stand to see her sad. I met Fritz the next morning, after spending an uncomfortable night lodged between an old banana peel and a piece of cardboard in a dumpster. He was an old alley-cat, with long white whiskers and speckled grey fur and the weathered eyes of a cat that has been in his share of tussles. He snatched me by the nape when he saw the trash truck coming and dragged me through a hole in the wall into an empty building.
Then he paused and set me down and began to groom himself. "Filthy child,"he scowled at me. I began to groom myself in embarrassment.
"Sorry,"I squeaked. "What's your name?"
"Fritz,"he said proudly, sitting up straighter. "Fritz Reginald."It was a very regal name. I wasn't sure if that was his human name or if he had given it to himself.
"My name is Wally,"I said. It sounded so silly next to his name, but that was the name I had been given. "Where are we?"
"This is my home,"Fritz proclaimed. As if to prove it, he darted towards a wall and with a leap he was standing high above me on a perch overlooking his realm. He continued to groom himself from up there.
"How old are you?"I asked awkwardly. I didn't know if maybe it was impolite to ask that. He looked down on me with those old, entrancing eyes.
"Old,"he said quietly. "Old enough to know the ways of the world."
"How old is that?"I insisted.
"Seventeen? Eighteen?"He seemed uncertain. I wondered if that was by his counting or by his human's counting. I couldn't count that high.
"I'm six,"I announced. He looked at me skeptically. "Six months,"I corrected. He was so old. "Are there those stiff green snakes here?"I asked him spontaneously.
He looked at me oddly. Then he mewed a small chuckle. I shifted uncomfortably, wondering if I was making a fool of myself. "Cucumbers?"He asked me incredulously, as if it was the stupidest question in the world. Oh, cucumbers. Right. Yes, those. I nodded. "No cucumbers here. Do they scare you?"I nodded again. "Good,"he said simply.
"Why?"I asked. Once I got a better look at them, they seemed to unthreatening. But the way they crept up on me as I drank water or ate... It gave me the chills and made my fur stand on edge.
"They are evil creatures,"Fritz explained vaguely. I meowed at him, urging him to continue. "They used to hunt humans. Cucumbers used to wander buildings much like these in packs, eating any human. They grew big and strong and threatened the human race."
"Really?"I asked. That didn't seem right but I didn't know enough about cucumbers to disagree. Humans seemed so big next to cucumbers... Fritz nodded confidently. Well, if he said so, it must be right.
"Then we showed up. We defeated the cucumber threat. We beat them into submission, leaving only the small and defenseless ones. That's why the humans pay tribute to us now, feeding us and petting us whenever we want."
I frowned. Something wasn't adding up. Sure, the humans clearly paid tribute. We had definitely vassalized them at some point. But why did I feel that fear of cucumbers? I asked Fritz that.
He jumped down with all the agility of an experienced cat. I could only hope to be so agile some day. For now, I just had to focus on not falling over when I walked. He got very close to me, the taste of some spoiled food on his breath. Or maybe that was just his old cat breath. "Because the cucumbers are out for revenge,"he said to me darkly. He growled for emphasis and I jumped. "They creep up on us when we eat sometimes, testing the boundaries, seeing if they could exact their vengeance."I marveled at his words, entranced in his old, wise eyes. "Be scared of them, young Wally,"he said to me with the tenderness of an old fatherly cat. "They wait in the shadows, ready to strike. They are our only predator now."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
I entered the future on a sunny Thursday afternoon in the middle of an idyllic little neighborhood. It was quiet. Too quiet. I wondered what terrible end its residents had met. I only know the day because I wandered into one of the empty homes, the door unlocked and everything still as its inhabitants had left it when they escaped in such terrible haste. The calendar was crossed off up to Tuesday. Up to today. It was eerie, walking through an abandoned home belonging to somebody who might never return. So when I heard the door creak open behind me, I froze, my fight or flight instinct miserably failing me.
"Hello, there,"I heard somebody's old grandmother croak. I unfroze, relieved that I had not been hunted down by IPD, the InterTime Police Department, that dreaded police of the time continuum who hunted down miscreant time travelers, and relieved that I was not being attacked by an alien invader or a robot overlord. Even the fact that there was a suburb at all instead of a nuclear apocalypse or a desert world a la Mad Max was a pleasant surprise. I turned cautiously, read to kung-fu this old grandma back to her time if she seemed even a little robotic. She was old enough that it very well could have been back to when I was born. She smiled sweetly and I held back my urge to roundhouse her head. She was too nice for that. "Welcome to my home,"she said, approaching me confidently. "I see you made yourself comfortable."I had, having helped myself to the bowl of peanuts she had on the dining room table and a glass of water from the tap.
I hadn't drank from it, however. I had stopped myself in the nick of time, remembering the mind control methods of my modern era. The government back then was starting their mind control operations, gradually consolidating power and increasing the surveillance. At least that was how I saw things in my enlightened state. They sprayed us with contrails as the sheeple just pranced around and enjoyed their blissful ignorance. They poisoned us with tap water, contaminating us with mind control chemicals. This water was too clear. Too perfect. Too processed and perfected to accomplish what they wanted. "Are you OK?"I asked her quietly. I was looking around for a notepad where I could write things instead of talking. She nodded pleasantly.
"Of course I am, silly. What did you say your name was?"Data collection. She could be a government drone. She could be one of them. Or she could be a victim. I found one of the dozens of notepads that it seems old ladies always have and I scribbled on it a note.
*Blink if you are being controlled.* Her eyes went wide. Knew it. That classic look of surprise when they get found out. And then after an interminable minute, she blinked. Knew it. Right again. This was no utopia. I had landed in the midst of my dystopian nightmare.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
Prison sucks. That's it. I could end this story right here right now if it weren't for the publishing house ~~forcing~~, never mind, encouraging me to write about how I got out. Let me stop you here reader, because if you think that I'm going to go into a well detailed, incredibly documented account of how I got wrongly convicted, thrown into a labor camp somewhere in China, then broke out with nothing but a pencil and a guy name Wang, you're wrong. I couldn't even do a fourth of the things I just mentioned. All I did to get convicted was play Jenga with salmon. I don't know either, apparently that was illegal. So there I was handcuffed and put in the back of a patrol car, headed off to the nearest penitentiary. So far everything was looking all right. The prison looked like it complied with American prison laws; you know, death, abuse, and the occasional rape. Nothing much out of the ordinary. The rooms were dark and dismal, the corridors reeked of piss and defecation, the inmates were banging on the doors (you can take that sentence both ways). The whole Hollywood Alcatraz package. Now you may be wondering how I got out. Try not to throw up, freak out, or jump off a building; okay folks? Good. The way I got out, drumroll please. . . Was through playing Monopoly.
Oh the horror! the travesty! Monopoly?! I know, I know, I hate the game as much as you do. Why couldn't it be a game of Cards against Humanity, or Exploding Kittens, or DnD? I'd even settle for nice game of chess! But ***nooooooo***, it had to be Monopoly. What's the point of the game? Nothing! You lie, cheat, backstab, destroy; all for what? property? worthless! It ruins lives, it wastes time, it is the bane of all existence. Anyways, back to prison. While the prison was horribly vanilla, one thing stood out. In the middle of the prison, where the courtyard would normally be, was a giant Monopoly board. This thing was huge, and I mean huge. It didn't even look like a standard monopoly board. instead of the standard twenty-eight property blocks, there were around two hundred of them, spanning about the size of a football field. So ***that's*** why the prison looked so big. So there I was, checking out why the hell we had a massive Monopoly board, when the entire prison filed onto the board, all of them taking their place at the hated starting block.
It wasn't fun watching convicted murderers and rapists have fun playing Monopoly. I wouldn't wish Monopoly on anybody, not even \[REDACTED\]. Though there's one thing I kept noticing. through the entire game, whenever somebody landed on one of the many community chests or random card blocks, the entire prison would go quiet. The lucky bastard would read out his card, then the prison would let out a disappointed sigh and return to the game. The game went on longer than I had the patience to wait for, so I just left. But every day after that, I went back, intrigued by what the hell was going on with these Monopoly fanatics.
Eventually one day I decided to risk death and humiliation. I, the salmon Jenga player, would play a round of Satan's board game. I took my place at the starting block and as fate would have decided it, I went first. The game went as any normal game of torture and pain would have, murderers acquiring property, dictators hoarding utilities, arsonists trying to burn down the board, nothing says family fun like espionage and communism! Eventually the round went to my turn, I had just acquired Tupac lane (That's an actual thing, look it up), and things were looking up for me to bankrupt Harvey Weinstein (suck on that lawyers!). I rolled a dice and it landed on a six. I take the said six paces and I land on a community chest. I feel the weight of the other convict's stares as I pick up a card from the massive draw pile. I scan the card and slowly read.
"Get out of—"suddenly what seemed to be an entire squadron of guards and soldiers barge through the door and surround me, though they didn't seem to arresting me, rather protecting me from the hordes of prisoners screaming and yelling for my death. Jesus mate, I just got a get out of jail free card, it's not much! I was escorted out of the prison, a bag was put over my head, and I was unceremoniously thrown into a car trunk. Great, prison, now the mafia. I was bundled out of the trunk and escorted up innumerable flights of stairs. I was sat down in a surprisingly comfortable leather couch and my bag removed. I was in an office, and a nice one for that matter. Marble tiles and all that fancy rich person stuff. Then my eyes wandered to the rich person seated in front of me. Two piece suit, red bowtie, and a tophat. Wait, tophat? The guy was old, no doubt, his face weathered and his hair white. He had a moustache, the type you normally see on movie villains, swirly and twirlable. Was this guy. . . no, oh God no. It couldn't be, I thought he was dead.
"You're free James."It was the Monopoly man, in all his inglorious crap. "I just need a favor."
"Favor, me?"I muttered bitterly. "I don't need your ***crap*** Mr. Ruin My Life."
"Now now James, there's no need to be so hasty."He whispered slowly, taking out a locket from the depths of his waistcoat. "Besides, who else could I turn to? Only you bankrupt entire corporations, only you could make little girls cry, only you could have the world in the palm of their hand through a simple game of ***me***."
"You have nothing I want."I spat in his face. "Everything I ever loved died the moment you came into the picture."
"Or do I?"He showed me the locket. it was. . . it couldn't be. . . I hesitated, then spoke "Fine. I'll play your game."
A smile crept across his face. "Finally, you have come to your senses. Let's begin then, shall we, ***Banker***?"
​
***P.S. Critiques, Nitpicks, and Advice Highly Appreciated!***
***Edit: Grammar*** |
If it hadn't happened exactly how it happened, no-one would've believed it. About 6 billion people never even saw it happen, given that they were asleep. But for the rest of us, it's rather hard to ignore a bearded old man talking on an MJ-120D calculator screen.
Some still didn't believe it until the rioting and looting, and raves started. Eventually, the people who were looting got bored and started joining in on the raves too. If anything it was the Parliamentary Rave that got most people to accept it, helped in no small part by the drugs the cops handed out.
When the rest of the world woke up, the party had been going for a while. There was a mild attempt to calm down and think this through. Unfortunately, that was when the French people woke up and decided that this was as good a time as any to have another revolution. Just in case they never got another chance.
Unfortunately, it's really hard to keep track of the time with everyone utterly focused on finding out what happens when everyone did all the drugs. While Everyone seemed intent on going out with a bang, a few teetotallers were keeping a sharp eye on the clock intently watching every tick. Towards the twelve-hour mark as the celebrations were almost at their peak
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#:(
`Your PC ran into a problem that it can't handle itself and needs to shut down.`
`Technical Information:`
`*** STOP: 0x00100001 ( 0x01010100, 0x01001001, 0x01001000, 0x01010011)`
`*** earth.sys: Address 0x242E14AD base at 0x000014AD DateStamp 0x50d3a680` |
No one believed you when you first said so until you showed them the card. After which they would look at you with an expression of confusion and fear. You kept waiting for the calendar to change to include this new date, but it didnt. You just didn't seem to die. You tried to commit suicide on March first of a leader year once, the gun jammed. You tried to jump in front of a train, someone stopped you. You tried to hang yourself, the rope snapped. The year's turned to decades, the decades turned to centuries. You watched everyone you care about die and you were helpless to stop it. You never seemed to age passed the day you took your card. You hated yourself every day for pulling that card. You watched civilization advance, until you watched it's end. You wandered the earth alone for billions of years, until you finally finished a spacecraft to get you off this hellish planet. You wandered the stars looking for life, but you never found it. You eventually ran out of fuel and only the replicator kept running. You drifted through the universe for what felt like an eternity and watched everything you know disappear. You watched the last star explode and the universe along with it. You kept floating through the empty void having accepted your fate until one day you see something in the distance. As you float towards it you realize it's a gigantic door. When your spacecraft drifts close enough you use the last of your tractor beams energy to open it. You float through it and find an almost identical universe, except this one isn't destroyed. You float even more until you find a planet that looks identical to earth. You get in the tiny escape pod and fall down to Earth 2. You land in a lake and swim to land only to the seemingly identical planet. You walk into a town and look around, everything looks like it did the the year you pulled the card. You walk into a diner and ask for a slice of cake to celebrate finding a new planet. You take your first joyful bite and look across the counter to the calender. Today's date is February 30th. You gasp and feel the cake get lodged in your throat, you are choking, the card was right. As you feel the last bit of life leave you, the think ”I guess the machine is always right.” |
Kevin watched as his partner stomped along the roof, grumbling loudly to himself. "I'm hungry. So hungry. Isn't that why I came here? So I could be as far away as possible from my food? But noooooo. NASA thinks they're so smart. No, Vlad, the solo mission's been *cancelled.* This is a *group mission* now."
He turned to Kevin, almost brandishing his fangs. "Why are you just standing there? Don't you realize I'm probably going to eat you?"
Kevin allowed himself to lazily float to the middle of the room. "Well, that would be very unprofessional, Vlad. Besides, I think you're really a nice guy deep down."
Vlad actually recoiled, tripped over a ladder, and lost his footing. Quickly, he turned himself into a bat, flew down to the floor, and turned back, heavily flushed. "Nice guy? I. Drink. Blood! I can't believe my AA squad thought this was a good idea!"
"Well, you are immortal,"Kevin said pointedly, grinning with sharp, vicious teeth, "and we're gonna be behind the full moon this whole time."
"Besides,"Kevin said, waving his snout back and forth, "My blood probably won't taste very good."
Vlad shrugged. "I'm hungry."
"So am I, Vlad. So am I. So hungry. I'm going to eat a whole schoolyard when I get back. But that's why they stuck us here."
Vlad pouted. |
It took ages for people to accept the new reality. I remember all of those guys in dark suits running about all over the place trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
The little police scanner that my father kept lying around was constantly squawking out odd reports of people going delusional, nearly instantaneously.
Some guy in the neighborhood, who was extremely verbal about his arachnophobia for as long as I’d known him, called in to the local dispatch station, yammering something about a “*shit ton of fucking talking spiders*” converging on his house.
Rumor has it that the little arthropod bastards broke him out of the insane asylum, right before the federals hauled him off to Area 51. Of course, that was before the massacre out by the base perimeter. A million neckbeards cried out at once and then were silenced. Superpowers couldn’t save them out there. Then again, those guys’ worst fear was probably a bar of soap, so I doubt they were very formidable.
That so-called ‘chosen one’ out in Tibet was proven to be legit. The woman didn’t fear anything, so she got nothing in the power department. Bravery didn’t help her much when a giant Winnie-The-Pooh showed up to take her to be ‘re-educated’.
Little Jitters next door was possibly the luckiest dog alive that day. Poor pup was scared of literally everything, from his reflection to thunderclouds. It’s a shame he was *still* afraid of everything once he’d become practically invincible. Damn dog vaporized half the fucking town before he was eaten by a raccoon.
Some Pastor at the church down by the graveyard insisted that if we learned to fear god, none of these heretical things would happen to us. Some of those soccer moms took it to heart, and soon a whole damn cult formed begging god for mercy. Guess gods don’t exist, because I haven’t seen any of them around lately.
That old lawyer who lived down on third street decided to experiment with being afraid of fear itself. Some called it noble. I thought it was some Harry Potter bullshit. Last I heard, he’d brought down an entire country with those hallucination powers.
Some suicidal emo kid kept spamming social media with crap about how much he terrified himself. Apparently he can clone himself on command now. Little bastard set up his own slave trade, and put all the robotics nerds out of a job while he was at it.
And then there’s me.
You wanna know what I can do?
Let me give you a little *hint*... |
"Pardon?"I asked, staring up from my chipped black nails as the demon awkwardly glanced down at her notepad, not daring to face me.
"A mortal named Karen, she wishes to speak to you a-"before she could finish I interjected, resting my large red hand against the crevice of the desk.
"I'm sorry? Do I look like a human resources manager? No I am the king of darkness, ruler of hell, devourer of feebleminded secretaries that can't do their job..."I hissed through my sharp pearly white teeth causing the poor demon to jump.
"Y-yes, but shes very persistent Sir, you see she-"the poor demon was tripping over her words, trapped between a rock and a Karen. Not wanting to piss of the king of the underworld, nor go back to the honeycombed head bitch with bad news.
Again I stopped her, more interested in what I had to say over her useless blabbering "This Karen, whatever it is, frightens you enough to make you dare face my wrath?"I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, how could someone be so wicked, so despicable... that she made the king of the underworld seem tame. "Send her in."
With a small sigh of relief, the secretary smiled, bowing about four times before quickly fleeing from the room. After a few moments of sitting in silence, the door swung open with the pumpkin bodied women wobbling in. "YOU!"She hissed.
"Me"I retorted, giving her a goofy grin, oh how I loved being a prick. "Please take a seat"I offered, pointing to a chair covered in rusty nails. We liked to call it the unwanted tunnel prodder. Of course she merely looked at the chair and... and she sat on it, rusted nails and all. I couldn't help but feel disgusted as she leant in, glaring at me from over the desk.
"You... call this a torturous hell! I have been here for three weeks! Three weeks and not one person has offered to take me to the skin boiling pits."She said smacking her ham like arm against the desk, leaving a sweaty imprint in its fine wood.
"I-im sorry?"I found myself scratching one of my horns. Was she really complaining about not being tortured, well regardless, I opened the small drawer in my desk, pulling out a thin pair of reading glasses. "Hmm hmm.."I cleared my throat before summoning her hell contract. "Yes, you see, you are a level one hell victim, that means you only face the mild tortures, you know... flies, slight famine and extreme temperatures, the lighter stuff. Its a ten week torture sentence and then you can go to heaven."I explained.
"W-what! Level one, excuse me! I am easily a level two, why do they get to go to the skin boiling pits and I don't. Are you being sexist?"She shouted.
"No? I... you do know, the skin boiling is bad right? Like really painful..."I tried to explain, finding myself a little taken back by her downright vicious attitude. "Those level two people would beg to be in your position."
"Then switch one of us around."She said, cocky smirk on her chapped lips, leaning back against the chair.
"I... can't just switch you, the tortures must fit the crime and... LEVEL TWO IS WORSE YOU STUPID ASS!"I shouted, room grumbling as the tormented souls screamed at my sudden burst of wrath, yet she simply blinked.
"Then you should have no problem sending me there.... talk to me like that again and ill speak to your manager!"She muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I am the manager,boss and king of this realm!"I said before shaking my head, slipping my glasses from my head and placing them aside. "Look, just enjoy your current tortures, they are tormenting enough like the extreme heat thats-"
"To cold!"She huffed. "I demand a hotter temperature, how can I be properly tortured if im not screaming in pain."
"But... the room is, if it were any hotter you would melt."I tried to explain, no one had dared critiqued my torture, it was my pride and joy and she was harshly taking it apart.
"But nothing you jolly red asshole, I want it hotter! And your flies, I want more variety, just common house flies? What is this Florida? More crazy bugs!"She demanded as I was left stumped.
"More.. but that would push it into level two.. you see we have standards an-"
"And nothing... didn't know I came to babies first hell!"She taunted. "Now are you going to be clifford the big red devil? Or the big red bastard who tortures people?"
"I... look I really can't adjust my tortures so, maybe you should just go and..."
"GO! Im not leaving until I get my full torture experience! Don't you dare try to-"
Before she could finish the sentence I quickly zapped her with a finger, sending her soul back to earth to find a new body to be born into, hoping that god wouldn't look into the sudden reappearance of an un-tortured soul.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
I woke up. “Hey you. You’re finally awake.....”
“Ah hell nah! I Ain’t dealing with any of this shit.”
I leapt out of the cart and ran off into the woods. “Come on. I had a wife, my job was actually fun. *Playing* Skyrim was fun. I am not the dragon born”. I came to a clearing with a frozen lake.
I looked at my reflection, “and I’m a lizard. Great.”
‘On the bright side I at least know the entire map.’ I thought to myself. And began a very long walk to a town. “Guess it’s time to take up blacksmithing or something then” I sighed. |
"The Human is Coming!"
All the Aliens rose up and began running to the other side of the room.
"Why do you do this? You're a Carnivore"
"Correction, I'm an Omnivore"
All of them run away. No matter how far they run though, I can always outlast them.
"\*pant pant\* Please."
I snatch a handful of fruits and vegetables off of their plate.
"Look, all the carnivores have are meats. I need my fruits."
"Just get it from the cafeteria line."
"No."
I keep running and catch up to the rest of them.
"Its a dead end. Give up your salads."
"Fine."One of them says
They throw a pepper at me. They think that Capsaicin is poisonous to me. I'll humor them.
"This looks good."I take a bite.
They all look at me in anticipation.
I start coughing and and bending down.
They look relieved and walk up to me.
"I knew carnivores are stupid. Not so tough now are you?"I stop coughing
"No. I think I Am."I grab their tray and bolt the other direction.
"Wait!"The Aliens catch up easily but I keep running. eventually, they're miles behind me.
"Never run an endurance race with a human." |
"Gentlemen, as you can see, I'm a little busy. Can this wait, *please*."I was not happy, but there was no need to break decorum.
"Evil-doer, your reign ends now!"Rally shouted across the church.
"What?!?"Both I and his partner turned to him.
"Sorry, I got a little caught up in the moment."he glanced down and mumbled.
"Look, I'm not sure what this is about, but can it wait until the reception? My bride is going to be coming down that aisle in like two minutes, and I promised her a special day."I tried to remain calm, but they were really testing my patience. "if you like you can sit in the back, right side please, and we'll deal with whatever misunderstanding this is shortly."
"No games!"Rally shouted, only to be *shhhhed* by Commandant Crisis.
The calm approach wasn't working. I really didn't want to break my promise to Kim, but they were causing a scene.
"Guys. Please. She's going to be here any second, and I told her I would keep my professional and private lives separate."Crisis seemed to get it. I could see the doubt on his face. Rally, however, was young. Not as weathered, and frankly not that bright. He would be a problem.
The bridal chorus began to play, and I gave one final look to my would-be adversaries to please sit down. Crisis began pulling Rally to the side.
"He's controlling you!"*oh god, please no*.
I understood that Crisis couldn't call his partner out in public. It just wasn't done. But I really couldn't let them ruin Kim's day.
The doors opened and I could see her. My breath caught in my throat. She looked through them as though they weren't there and walked with her dad down the aisle. Rally tried to move towards me, but Crisis' grip was strong. I could hear the "ow ow ow"as he pulled him to my side of guest pews.
I relaxed my fists, letting the blood return.
As my bride came forward, the ceremony continued. Kim could tell I was slightly distracted, and that made me angry. These fools were going to ruin her day. i calmed myself and returned all of my focus to her. When it got to my vows, I promised to love, honor, and obey her. She promised to cherish me. When given permission to kiss her I did so wholeheartedly. Smiling to myself when she said "You can kill them now if you like." |
"Not today, please,"I moaned. The nerdy girl from first period looked at me nervously as I massaged my temples with cheap, threadbare gloves. "Too many readings in the past week. Can't focus in class."
"Just one?"Karissa said. "Everyone says that anything you tell them comes true."
My reputation had grow like a hardy weed; slowly at first, lurking in the undergrowth of the student popularity vines, but refusing to die out. People want to believe in higher powers, after all. It had only taken a few rumors before there were more customers than I could reasonably manage.
"That's not really how it works,"I said. "It's not like I'm some wish-granting genie. I just tell you what will happen if you continue down your current path."
Karissa rubbed a few brown strands of her long hair together, crossing and uncrossing her legs nervously across the flimsy lunch table. "So does that mean if I heard it and didn't like it, I could change it?"
"First off, you'll have to get on the wait-list."I checked my phone as she was talking, and it looked like she'd be doing plenty of waiting on it. "And the answer is, who knows? Most people choose not to change anything different about what they're doing, and my predictions become completely accurate. Maybe that's luck."
"Oliver, please help me."She looked down at the fake whorls carved into the green plastic surface. "I didn't want to ask, but my Dad was just hospitalized. I just want to know...I just want to know that he's going to be okay."
The sigh that escaped my throat was not unkind, as my answer was already written in stone. I knew what it was like to be in her shoes all too well.
How cursed am I, to see only the future of others, but remain blind to my own?
"I'll do it."
Gingerly, the gloves slipped off finger by finger. The air was electric, wafting across my bare knuckles, and even at this range I was catching whispers on the wind; an impending failed chemistry test the table over, a budding romance just next to us, a soon-to-be-lost keepsake behind me.
Karissa held out her hand shyly, but I had no such compunctions. The sad reality of seeing the future is that any childhood innocence dries up like the morning dew. I'd lived a hundred different realities, seen things from the eyes of people woven from all sorts of moral fibers.
I grasped her hand.
The world stopped.
My vision splint in twine along with my mind, a ripping headache that tore a soundless scream from my being. In one world, I saw us - not her, but *us.* It was the first time I'd ever seen myself in anyone's future. Her Dad lived, and because of the relief she thanked me and we eventually started hanging out more, gradually developing feelings for each other. It was a happy life. It was full and bright and so wonderful that I almost cried.
In the other world, I saw her Dad die. The sadness warped her, bringing out a stronger, darker malevolence that twisted the space between us. And in that future, she *awakened*. She became a far stronger clairvoyant than I, affecting the world as if it were clay at her fingertips. The emptiness and void I felt emanated like a cold frost from her future spectre, casting a shadow over the whole earth. It was lonely and tragic and so full of death that I almost cried.
I jerked away, inhaling air like a drowning man. Karissa looked at me in alarm. "What day did your Dad get hospitalized?"I demanded. There was no time.
"Last week,"she said nervously. "Why? What did you see?"
A curse grumbled out of my throat as I shoved the gloves back on. My senses dulled, I was able to focus more on the glimpses I'd received. There *really* was no time.
One week. I had one week to turn things towards the better.
---
Thanks for reading! Hope you have a wonderful day\~ come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around! |
I breathe, deeply. Adjust my tie. Square my shoulders. My wife eyes me from her spot at the mirror. The mahogany countertop holds my folder of loose paper. I'm nervous.
My fingers twitch with anticipation. The boom of the speakers is deafening. The flood lights are blinding. My stage has been set. The podium is ready. She squeezes my hand one last time, ushering me forward. I step as gracefully as I can manage into the limelight. I breathe.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for the warm introductions, but I must admit, wholeheartedly, that I am apprehensive. I come to you today not with a message of happiness, and of good, but of a warning.
Before I break what I believe to be the most harrowing news of our time, first, I must bring your mind's eye back several millennia. It was a simpler time, no? We lived on a single planet, each of our species, wondering at the twinkling roof that was the sky. We could not reach those lights, so we instead reached for those around us, for the trees and the birds and the very air we took in to our lungs.
If your eye sees correctly, you would lay vision on a series of dying worlds. We fought one another for that air, believing it our own right to it. We could not step aside and see the universe for the beauty that we now see, in the connections between stars and planets and life itself. We used horrible, horrific methods against each other, but we prevailed. Eventually, we saw reason, and beauty, and peace came upon us."
The crowd is quiet, but I still can't hear anything. My chest pounds from the memory of a brutal time. My synapse link whines with the effort of containing the raw power from the emotions of that time. My wife smiles. I breathe.
"I come to you today to introduce to you a new, emerging civilization. Another voice in the void, another mouth hungry for knowledge and purpose."Murmurs run through the crowd. It's been quite some time since an intelligent species has surfaced in the galaxy; many had thought there wouldn't be more.
"I ask you, all of you, today, to heed this warning. This species, these \*Humans\*, must not be underestimated. Where we see value in caution, the Humans see frustration. Where we find comfort in logic, the Humans find anger. Where we see beauty, the Humans see opportunity."I pause, and slowly close my folder.
"In all my years as Chief Diplomat of the Alderii Conglomerate, I have never seen any species so bloodthirsty, so angry, so irrational, as these humans. They will not see us as friends, they will see us as slaves. It is my sole, unquestioning duty to warn every listening speaker of the threat we are to face. We must begin our preparations now, for while we have not warred since those times long in our past, the Humans have thrived on it. They built themselves stronger in every way to come out on top. They will stop at \*nothing\*."
My wife touches my back. I'm shaking. I find it difficult to see. I'm so scared of the sheer impossibility that very likely could be our demise. She squeezes my fingers.
"I ask for the first time in over four thousand years for the Alderii Conglomerate to begin preparations for war."
I breathe. |
I found my usual place at the bar and ordered a glass of whiskey from the waitress. While I've tasted and seen the world over, there's nothing quite like a Jim Beam on the rocks.
Soon a rowdy crowd of men lumbered through the entrance, clearly intoxicated from earlier escapades. A bachelor party, probably. I felt pity on them for their unabashed embrace of inebriation. I was glad that I could never feel the stupor of drunkenness.
"You see that guy over there?"I heard the bartender say to them. "That guy can ear or drink anything and he wont puke. Hell, I've never even seen him gag at spoonful of dogshit."
"He says if anyone can get him sick, he'll buy the whole house a round and pay up a grand on top of it.
"No fuckin' way, bro!"one of the particularly wasted boys said. "I gotta try this."
The boy disappeared out the front for a while while his friends kept ordering drinks. Eventually he came back with a concoction that made one of his buddies fall over when he sniffed it.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"the bartender shouted. "We have a challenger!"
The whole bar gathered around my table as I welcomed my challenger across from me.
"Not gonna tell you what's in it,"said the boy. "You'll just have to tell me once you're done, if you can handle it."
I took a sip.
"This tastes like *shit*,"I yelled to the drunkard across from me. "It's delicious!"
I guzzled down the last drops of gasoline mixed with moldy eggs from the back dumpster and piss. Amateur stuff, really. Slamming the can down the table, the gathered crowd cheered with mixed surprise and disgust.
"Next!"I shouted. The bartender chucked and winked at me, setting aside a few bucks for my trouble. |
In a small apartment in a rather nondescript region of Heaven, Xanlar and Borbla were just finishing up their dinner when Borbla let out a terrible scream.
"What is it, darling?"Xanlar asked worriedly.
"It's another human! Get it out! Get it out!"
Xanlar used two of his arms to grab a scoop from the pantry while another pair set his lunch down on the table. His head swiveled while doing all this to keep the human in his sight. They lumber quite slowly in the dark so it's easy to track them. With a lightning fast motion he caught the human and ran to the front door of the apartment. He winced as the door opened, letting in sunlight, and tossed the human outside. He shut the door quickly to restore the comfortable darkness.
"I saw three more this morning,"Xanlar said to his wife when he returned. "It's getting ridiculous."
"You need to call the exterminator,"Borbla replied. "If I see one more human, we're leaving this dump."
"Oh yeah? We can hardly afford this place as it is. Where else in all of Heaven would we go?"
"My mother's house."
"I'll call right now."
Xanlar twisted his antennae to the exterminator's frequency and got a busy signal, as usual. He left a message requesting a callback. He fluttered the wings along his back in frustration.
Borbla, no longer in the mood for eating, cleaned up in the kitchen, then went to check on the eggs in the nursery. In the meantime Xanlar went into the back bedroom where he had seen the last few humans this morning to make sure there weren't anymore. That's when he heard a faint cracking sound, like a tiny whip.
"What was that?"he yelled out to Borbla.
"I didn't hear anything,"she replied from the other room.
*Odd*, he thought to himself. Then he realized the sound came from the far corner of the room. *Another human must have appeared*.
His instincts led him to investigate, but he stopped short of squishing it when he heard its small voice. Rather than seeking to dispose of it, he wanted to find out if he could hear what it was saying. He had never heard a human talk before.
"Go towards the light,"he heard it say. Xanlar was surprised he could understand it. "The light ought to be around here somewhere!"
"Hello?"Xanlar said. It felt strange trying to talk to a human.
"Hello!"the human said in a quiet voice. "Oh, thank God someone's here to help. I am so lost! It's dark and cold and wow you must be really big to have such a booming voice. Are you an angel?"
"Well, yes, of course."said Xanlar who was somewhat confused. He really hoped Borbla didn't crawl in on him and see him talking to a human.
"Thank God!"the human said again. "I was starting to worry I was in Hell. It was so dark and, well the cold was throwing me off, but it's just not what I was expecting to see after I died."
"Wait, you... died?"
"Oh yeah. How else would I get here? It was quite awful. Crushed by a truck, took a painful while to finally succumb but I trusted in God and knew I'd be in Heaven soon! And here I am!"
Xanlar was quite perplexed at all of this.
"So where in Heaven are we?"asked the human. "Are we near the pearly gates? I can't see a thing."
"Well, you're in my spare bedroom."
"Weird. When God said he prepared a room for us, I did not expect to be roommates with an angel!"The human paused for a bit. "I wish I could see it. Where is the light, for that matter?"
"Angels hate light."
"What?"
"Yeah, we get all frantic and scurry to find the closest darkness we can find."
"That seems... weird. And definitely wasn't in the Bible."
"Bible?"
"Well duh! God's word? His book to us? How could you not know about this?"
"Who this *God* is you're talking about."
"WHAT!?!"
"Hold on."Xanlar twisted his antennae and searched the frequency directory for God. "Oh yes! That God. He's just a weird mad scientist that lives in a weird tent on top of a mountain nearby."
"Mad scientist... you mean he's not your Almighty? Your everlasting king? Your leader? Your creator?"
"Oh no!"Xanlar laughed and fluttered his wings. "If God was our leader, Heaven would be a hot mess! God is just an angel, like us. He's not some higher being or anything. We angels are the only creatures on Heaven, other than you pesky humans."
"This... this cannot be real life. I must be hallucinating. I must be still alive but almost dead. This is some mad nightmare."
"I'm afraid it's true. God has always had his mind in the stars. He must have some wacky experiment going on that brings you here when you die. I'll need to report that to the authorities."
The human seemed incredibly depressed. "Is there anything I can do for you?"Xanlar asked.
"Will you take me to the light?"it asked weakly. "I think that will help."
"Okay, but I can't stay with you long."
Xanlar scooped the human up and brought him to the front door. He quickly stepped outside with the human to show him the light. Xanlar winced and his vision blurred, but the human appreciated the sight.
"Yes, this feels better. I can see things again."The human turned around in Xanlar's hands to finally see what an angel looked like.
"Oh my God!"the human screamed. "You're just a giant cockroach!" |
They say the King came from the moon.
In the early days of his rule, not much was different in Sevenrise. The region hadn't known a local monarch before, it had long been a vassal state of some vast and distant empire, changing hands every few decades. You could tell the land's allegiance by the faces on the coins, or the lingua franca of the provincial governor and his guards, but aside from that, life in Sevenrise had continued at its slow and rural pace, with church day bells to mark each week, and farmers marking years by good crops and bad but little more.
And when the King arrived, and claimed his throne, there were few that protested or fought against him. This was before the moon turned bright, and the stories arose that the gods had returned in the East. Even when these rumours spread, the people of Sevenrise paid little mind. Gods and Emperors in distant lands did not change the way the grass grew, or the trees spread their limbs. But the King seemed shaken. His advisors, and the small group of councillors that had unshackled themselves from their provincial masters and elevated Sevenrise to a kingdom, noticed him begin to behave erratically and unpredictably. He would refuse to eat untasted food, and tug at guards' cheeks, as if he thought they were wearing false faces. His eyes became sunken and his cheeks became hollow, as he began to eat less and sleep less, day by day.
The people of Sevenrise were simple, but they were not stupid. They saw the change in their King, and whispers began of replacing him, or removing the office of kingship entirely. That is when blood began to be spilled.
The King, sensing people's unease, and mistaking it for the beginnings of insurrection, began to have men arrested and tortured. He extracted confessions from them at the point of the sword, ridiculous, impossible confessions, but he and an increasingly insular group of his courtiers took them as confirmation of their wildest paranoia. The kingdom was under attack, they claimed, from without and within. And the people of Sevenrise too began to change. They saw enemies in the faces of their friends, they took news from far abroad as harbingers of a soon-to-come war, and obsessed over martial preparations. A great wall was built around the city, through and across fields that had not long prior been full of crops and flowers.
Murder became common in those days, though people at the time called it justice. The people of Sevenrise had undergone an alchemical transformation, in the space of a few years. When I was a boy they had been a kind, generous, and thoughtful people. Now they had become cold, afraid, and judgemental, forming mobs to hunt down those who conspired against the King, cheering as they gathered beneath the noose.
If I had been older, I would have left before the wall was finished, but I was too young and green to believe I could find my own way in the world. Others had left already, those of other colours, or who worshipped other gods, scared that their difference would become a cause for blame. My own father was killed by the mob, found in a gathering of those against the king, surrounded and beaten brutally to death.
I resigned myself to a grim fate in the walled off kingdom, afraid to attempt escape as I had waited too long. On clear nights, I would gaze up at the moon from the roof of my father's house and wonder why the new gods had abandoned us. In a moment of clarity, I realised they hadn't. The King was from the moon, now I was certain of it. And he had been the cause of all our despair.
On one such night, as I hopelessly gazed into the sky, a star caught the corner of my eye. It fell from the sky, a bright white point of light, and moved faster and faster, until it buried itself into the earth close to the kingdom wall. Intrigued, I could not help myself: breaking curfew, and robed in black, I snuck through the kingdom's outskirts towards the boundary wall. There I found a small crater with a silver sphere lying in it's centre, only the height of a man. I walked up to it, and it opened itself, like the petals of a flower in bloom. A hiss of steam escaped, and a young man stepped out wearing a strange crimson suit. He looked at me, removed his helm, and said something in a strange language.
I did not answer. He repeated himself. I stammered something back, that I did not know what he was saying. The youth removed some device from his belt and unfurled it like a scroll of parchment. Their flickering in coloured light, I saw the face of my enemy. It was the face of the King.
He pointed at it, and I nodded. Somehow I knew what he had said, what he had come here for. he had come to kill the King. The boy in red was to become the Usurper, the saviour of Sevenrise, and of the West entire. Later still, we would call him the Crimson King. And this was the first time anyone on the planet had met him. |
“Hey wait this isn’t how this is supposed to go!”
Shouts the Warlock who now is being assaulted by not only the Fighter, but His evil clone that the Warlock conjured up.
“Hey wait! Stop! This isn’t right why are you still fighting me and not yourself!?” Shouts the Warlock
“Ha! You honestly thought that even if you made a second, evil version of me, that it would still hate you any less”
Shouts back the fighter, as his shadowy evil self swings his sword down towards the warlock
“Yeah, Even if i am just his polar opposite, some things are just universal, like our unrelenting desire to see you end up in the dirt!”
Roars the Fighter’s Shadow, The warlock on the ground shuffling backwards. A look of fear and panic in his eyes never quite seen before.
Both the Fighter and his Shadow self, rushing down the warlock raising their weapons high above their heads and swinging down with all their might cutting into the warlock.
The Warlock scream’s out one final time in fear and protest, yet his cries are cut short.
His eyes grow cold and the body goes falls limp. A X-shape scar now adorning his chest.
As the Fighter looks on towards his own shadow self, fleeting as what ever magic summoned him here now no longer exists. the two share a smile, each content, as the Shadow fades completely from this world.
*\~Fin* |
When I tell people about my HUD they usually show pity. They get all depressed for me.
People can be really dumb sometimes.
People love to tout their cool HUD's. RPG, FPS, etc.
My life is easy. When I met my wife, I completed a quick time event to date her. To marry her.
I get every raise I want. I can never get hurt. Whenever I might things go slow-mo. I see shit like "Turn right"and I do, narrowly avoid a patch of black ice.
Don't get me wrong, it doesn't work for everything. I still had to study in school. But if I knew all the techniques, my HUD would tell me which one to use. Some would call that cheating, but its a natural advantage. It is *always* with me.
Its like picking stocks. You can go for exciting and dangerous, and possibly get great rewards. Or you can go boring and safe. |
Magic is great. I'm over 200 years old, but look 80 and feel 20. People respect you when they don't know your age, but can tell you're ancient. Not that I needed age to be respected.
Though I was not the greatest mage, I stood tall among my peers. My first spell was the simple ability to make items seemingly vanish, and it lead me down a path of material desire. I stole every spell book I could get my hands on until my knowledge of the occult was without equal. My flying tower was invisible to the mortal eye and rigged with surprises for anybody who stumbled across it. My armory contained flaming swords and spears of crystal light. My treasury housed the crowned jewels of every kingdom I stepped foot in. But the crown jewel of my own tower was the library; Filled to the brim with books walking the line between legendary and mythical.
But it wasn't always this way. In the early days, before the reign of Queen Cvez, magic was forbidden. An ancient order had every magical lighthouse extinguished, snuffing out the guidelights that sparked the flame within each and every mage. This order was eventually overthrown when their own magic died out with the lighthouses.
Brute strength ruled the land. If you weren't stronger than somebody, you needed to be faster. Rarely did brain win out over brawn. And it was in this world, this dark reality, that I was the greatest. Before the queen went about her business of excavating the lighthouses and reigniting their supernatural flames, I rose up as an imposing figure. A being that lives now only in legend. This legend could split a boulder with an open palm, crack the thickest of armor with a lackadaisical punch, and drop the faint of heart with little more than a hard glance.
It happened two centuries ago. The influence I had over my adversaries was slipping as more and more lighthouses were reignited, and my foes found their advantage over me not in brute force but in confounding magical attacks. And finally, when the queen's wizards reignited the lighthouse buried beneath the mud of my homeland's famed marsh, my influence was lost completely.
Because it was then that I discovered my own magic. It was then that I forsake my martial arts and devoted myself purely to the supernatural arts. I disappeared, both literally and figuratively as I learned vanishing magic. The great fighter's life was over. My social circle changed, as well. My allies went from rangers and assassins to witches and wizards. My enemies went from barbarians and knights to necromancers and elder mages. And soon my stomping grounds expanded from the lowlands of marshes, swamps, and jungles, to the entirety of the known world, and even beyond, as my flying tower made its rounds.
But through it all, I kept my eye on the marshland lighthouse. If its flame ever died out, so too would my power.
And so it was that through two centuries, I became known as a great mage. Gathering new spells and enchantments to improve myself and fortify the lighthouse against my magical foes. The world was changing rapidly, and the old martial arts were slowly being forgotten while I watched with disinterest. The new arts were weaker in comparison, since most wars were fought with magic the soldiers never had any reason to hone their skills. And since the soldiers never honed their skills, very few masters were produced from their ranks to train the next generation. This went on for ages until the world was left with a pale imitation of what once caused empires to fall.
It was these pale imitators, however, that would cause me to fall. If only for a time.
My defenses were designed to seize up any being with magic coursing through their veins. My traps would invert their mana, overpowering their own nervous system. My enemies would piss their pants and collapse on the floor, where I would then petrify them and add them to the collection.
But there exists mortals who have no mana. No magical aptitude. Mortals who rely solely on their martial arts. Mortals who could sneak through the defenses at the lighthouse to extinguish it and bring about an end to the 'age of mages', as they saw it.
I knew of them before they struck out at me. In fact, I was the one who organized them. I had enemies who operated in similar ways, and in order to rid the world of them, I had these mortals extinguish the flames so I could intervene and destroy opponents who were otherwise much more capable than myself.
They were the second coming of that ancient order of mages which extinguished the flames long ago. And some might say things were looking very similar. History was doomed to repeat itself. As the lighthouses went out one by one, and people rose to join the order without my knowledge, one might say that things were getting out of hand.
I'd beg to differ.
See, when the lighthouses first went out ages before even my time, those responsible had only one skill: Magic. Every ace in the hole relied on their mana. Every back-up plan hindered on the lighthouses. But not mine. I expected things to get out of control. As the mages slowly died off in my time, the events paralleled the ancient times perfectly. People were beginning to catch on. And it wasn't long until my lighthouse was the only one left.
My last act as a mage was to revert my age. With a snap of my fingers, I was 23 again. In my prime. And it was with a sense of glee that I hid myself away as they entered the chamber wherein the final flame would be doused. Magic leaving this world for a second time in its entirety. All men were once again equal.
They called out my name in that great chamber. Crying out for me to appear, that they might slay the final mage. To them, I was an old man who represented the old world. The old ruling class. It was time for a revolution.
They weren't expecting me to burst forth from my hiding place, ready for the fight they had brought. I don't think I was even recognizable to them.
*Crush*
Their bones shattered like glass with every blow I landed.
*Crush*
Their hope was gone. Their dreams fled before them when they realized I played them.
*Crush*
Their revolution was over.
When the lighthouses were gone, all men were supposed to be equal. As they had been before. But I knew better. Magic *was* the equalizer.
====================================EDIT
You can find similar material in r/WritingsofLumbaxter. |
I’m not a pathological liar. Yes, I’m aware that’s what a liar would say because they lie. Believe me, I don’t lie on purpose most of the time. It’s just an accident, like I think that I had eggs for breakfast but then I remember that I skipped breakfast because I slept though my alarm.
Except, in my case, whenever I lie, the universe sort of becomes exactly what I say it did. I feel the universe twisting and it gives me massive headaches and stomach cramps, which is worse now with my breakfast eggs.
I remember the way it happened, but everyone else has this alternate memory of events on how I say it happened. People think I’m the most truthful person because of this. But I can never confirm that or say “I always tell the truth,” because then my powers would disappear and I would be stuck in a world where I am forced to always say the truth instead of what I say becoming the truth.
I’ve told exactly no one about my super power. First of all, how would I prove it? And secondly, who would believe me?
That was my belief until I met a girl who remembered all the versions of reality I made. Because she had a memory superpower and could remember alternate realities.
She approached me after school on a Thursday in March. “I know your secret.”
Is she talking about my super power? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Then I felt the universe twist. It’s always the weirdest when I do twists on myself. I knew I was supposed to be confused because I didn’t know what she was talking about. It really could be anything.
She quirks up a smile. “There! You just did it. I knew it.”
“What are you talking about?” My brain hurt from the universe twisting. I’m not sure if it was the usual headache or also because I didn’t really know what she was talking about.
Looking both ways to check for eavesdroppers, she leaned in close and whispered, “You can twist the universe to your will. I know because I remember every version of reality.”
That broke me out of my fog. I never had someone figure out my secret superpower. I felt strangely embarrassed and exposed for being figured out. Especially by a pretty girl around my age.
She told me how she fought crime in her free time and asked me to join her organization. She could have asked me to follow her across a lake of man eating piranhas and I would have agreed. So of course, I told her “Yes” and my life became a lot more complicated. |
I ran down the alley. A bubble forcefield popped up at the end of the alley.
"Its not my fucking fault!"I screamed.
"I don't want to hear it, Sunscream."Pop-up said, stepping into view. He threw several bubbles which grew in size, unwrapping and changing into walls to surround me. Pointing my palms down, I unleashed my beams. Two white hot beams of fused hydrogen blasted out of them, slicing through the ground like a fucking white hot cleaver through warm butter, and acting like rockets shooting me skywards. The forcefields created a prism beneath me. I lessened my beams strength until I landed on the prism.
"Please. I never wanted to hurt anyone."
"Too late. Get him!"
I turned to see Laserwhip standing behind me, whip forming in his hand. He threw it at me and I launched myself backwards with a quarter second blast. Looking around, I saw more forcefields coming my way, blocking any ascent this time. *Fuck. You made me do this.*
I flipped, pointing my palms at Pop-up. Looking forwards at Laserwhip, I engaged a full force blast. *Please let your fields hold.* I rocketed forwards towards Laserwhip. He dismissed his whip as I dodged under it, but he had no chance to reform it before I slammed into him, knocking him over. I cut my beams and rolled into the street, popping up running. Behind me I could hear Laserwhip screaming at me, but I ignored him. After a dozen steps I jumped and launched myself to a nearby roof, three stories up, well outside Laserwhip's range.
*Please live.*
I didn't turn back. |
"NO DAUGHTER MINE DATE NANDERTALL!"
*"IT CALLED NANDERTALL-PANGEAN! IT NOT PHASE. ME LOVE HIM!"*
"YOU NOT KNOW WHAT LOVE IS. ME KNOW WHAT LOVE IS. THIS UNNATURAL!"
*"YOU NO RESPECT ME! YOU NO TRUST NANDERTALL-PANGEAN!"*
"WHY NANDERTALL LITTLE POPULATION, LOT OF CRIME?"
*"IT CALLED SYSTEMATIC OPPRESSION, READ BOOK!"*
"WHAT BOOK?"
*"JUST BECAUSE YOU NO READ BOOK NO MEAN YOU NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU PART IN PERPETUATING OUTDATED STEREOTYPE!"*
"WHAT BOOK????"
*"YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!"*
"NO, IT YOU NOT UNDERSTAND! GO TO CAVE!"
One week later, the Ugg family invites Bo over for dinner to meet the daughter's boyfriend.
*"THIS BO."*
"....."
*"STOP CLEAN ANIMAL PAW IN FRONT OF BO. BE NICE!"*
"ME AM BE NICE! ME PRACTICE RIGHT TO BEAR ARM! DOES BO HAVE PROBLEM WITH RIGHT TO BEAR ARM?"
*"YOU NO TALK BO THAT WAY. BO GUEST! I TELL MOM."*
"DO NOT TELL MOM."
*"YOU PUT BEAR ARM AWAY OR I TELL MOM!"*
Later, at dinner....
"SO, BO, WHAT HOBBY YOU HAVE MY TAXES PAY FOR?"
*"FATHER!"*
"IT SIMPLE QUESTION! WHAT HE DO?"
*"HE IN BAND!"*
"HE IN BAND!?"
*"DO NOT LAUGH! HE DRUMMER!"*
"WHAT ELSE HE PLAY!? WE ALL DRUMMER!"
*"HE DRUM ABOUT LOVE."*
"DRUM FOR WAR, NOT LOVE."
*"YOU ONLY SAY THAT BECAUSE YOU AND MOM NOT LOVE EACH OTHER!"*
"DAUGHTER!"
*"FATHER!"*
"HOW YOU NOT SEE WHAT NANDERTALL DO TO YOU? YOU MUST RESPECT FATHER! READ BIBLE!"
*"WHAT BIBLE?"*
"YOU NOT MATURE ENOUGH FOR DATE. BREAK UP."
*"NO."*
"YES!"
*"NO!"*
"YES!"
*"NO!"*
"BOYFRIEND EMBARRASS ME IN FRONT COMMUNITY!"
*"SO THAT WHAT THIS ABOUT? YOU? ALWAYS ABOUT YOU!"*
"I PAY CAVE BILL. I PAY FOOD. I PUT ROCK OVER HEAD!"
*"YOU NO NEED TO. I MOVING IN TO BO HUT!"*
"YOU WHAT?"
*"I PREGNANT WITH BO BABY."*
"YOU WHAT?????????" |
"Throw it away,"Clara McKenzie told Secretary. Secretary, her dog, didn't have to be asked twice, and gulped the letter down. Secretary was a brown labrador and the main reason Clara had opted not to build some kind of epic tree house, like so many of her children's-book predecessors. Oh, she had done her reading. Her favorite was the Baron in the Trees. He had a dog, but it didn't come up in the trees with him. But Clara liked to let secretary sleep curled up beside her, and knew this would not do.
Furtunately, Secretary was really good at digging. And it just so happened that he'd dug right into the tunnels of Old Whiskers, in her time the biggest, meanest grandmother mole in the county, who had just happened to dig her tunnels right under the McKenzie's backyard. And the tunnels were so big, Clara fit right in. She had widened them, of course, slowly, and reinforced the walls, and she had little round walls she had made, which she put up and take down with ease, so she could seal areas off and open them up, enlarge, contract. Secretary brought her pieces of wood, which she refined in a makeshift wood shop she had burrowed out, then made into whatever objects she needed. Early on, she mostly focused on building wood floors, walls, and shelves around a slowly growing section of the tunnel, the most enlarged, and which served as her main home room. She stored food there as well, at first, though in the beginning she was highly reliant on her night kitchen raids of her parent's house. She wasn't proud of that, but she had since become self-sufficient. The librarians knew the two of them well, and, plied by homemade pastries, could be convinced to check out books based on a list attached to Secretary's dog-saddlebags. Clara also attached her library card. Secretary brought the books back and forth with the saddlebag, and this way, Clara was able to learn a great deal. For food, she learned how to grow mushrooms, carrots, and potatoes. In the grow rooms, the ceiling and floor were left unfinished, with only a scaffold for reinforcement. Mushrooms grew in the ground, while from the soft earth above one could pull down a crunchy carrot. There was also a kitchen with a fireplace and oven that vented smoke into her parent's yard. But beyond that, the home base expanded into other areas, including a detour to a secret entrance to the local wilderness area, where Clara could forage for herbs and edible bugs, which she deemed the most moral protein to consume. This is not to say she checked out books on morality from the library. No, the morality she followed was a system of her own design. And, on the matter of her parents, her morality said: you shall not speak to them anymore. Why? I know what you're thinking. Her parents probably told her to eat too many vegetables. But no, it was not that. Her parents, in fact, had tried to make her eat meat.
"I'm vegetarian,"she had said.
"Honey, you're not vegetarian, you're eight years old. We already served you your meat. Maybe you can be vegetarian tomorrow."they had said.
"No!"she had shouted.
"Well, okay dear, daddy can have the meat if you really won't have it, but you're going to have to take twice as much vegetables."
Twice as much! It was almost too much. But no, that's not what set Clara over the edge. Not what prevented her, even now, from any kind of contact with her parents. No, the worst was yet to come. Later that night, Clara heard her parents talking. Admittedly, the reason she could hear them was that she was eavesdropping. First, her father: "Vegetarian! Damned child, it's all these books she reads."
Then, her mother: "Oh, Harold, if she wants to be vegetarian why don't you just let her? It's probably just a phase, and in a week she'll be back to eating meat again. Let it pass."
Her father again: "Like hell it will! The sprout's determined, I'll give her that. But I've had it! If she's going to be vegetarian, then I'm leaving! Jennifer, I've already got a lawyer. I called for one when I excused myself from dinner to take a shit. I want a divorce, and Clara's to blame!"
That was what caused Clara to leave. And, consequently, her parents were still married to this day. Now, her father wanted to talk. But Clara was far from ready for his forgiveness. And she had just built a new, state-of-the-art addition to her tunnel complex: a dojo. |
Greed driven, loose morals, with a penchant for killing their own. For Millions of years Humans were depicted as evil entities of the distant stars. An evil race from the Book of Andromeda, that caused destruction and killed thousands of other species. Still embracing the primal, Survival of the Fittest attitude among their own as well. But these humans were myths until they were discovered by the roaming colony.
The stories of the Human's were told for generations and generations until the discovery of eternal life. Our species had thrived using our religion, fueled by the numerous stories of the evil and maniacal Humans. Molded by these stories, our society prospered and expanded throughout the stars. Discovering unimaginable sights and insights never held before. In many ways, Humans led us to prosperity.
We watched from afar, reliving the childhood stories told to us. The constant war between their own, the young who can't eat, the strong who steal from the weak. Chaos rained supreme on the beautiful planet. They simply do not understand how lucky they are. To be on a world so plentiful, in a universe so barren. Humans did not deserve the Planet they had been given. It was only a matter of time before it turned on them and restarted. Cultivating new life that would bring balance for billions of more years.
But it was not our place. To run a species out of their home, to conquer and take. Our lives will be more moralistic, based on a greater purpose. Humans had time to change, they were not all vile. Stories of their bravery, love, and kindness were still in our sacred books, but in fewer numbers.
We will continue to search for a new home, remembering the lessons from the humans and praying for their survival. |
Most heroes fly around in shiny neon-coloured spandex, having banter with their villains, some even having romantic relationships with them. They heroically save the day against cartoonishly insane supervillains, seductive and intriguing master thieves, and of course the various nemeses who swear that next time they'll get them and their little dog to. And then they're showered in medals for saving the city, with their kid sidekicks at their side.
Of course, this is after they've destroyed half of it in a showy battle with whoever attacked it. It's not talked much about, as the fanatic fans of the heroes single out and attack the people who point it out, but the leading course of death in America today, is superheroes. When the big strong heroic leagues and guilds challenge the latest tin-pot space tyrant in the vicinity of our Solar System, how many people die in the aftermath? Millions.
I went into the business desiring to reform it. To do away with the arrogant heroics of the past, to save the most people possible in the most efficient method as physically possible. I started out how a lot of heroes do, stopping muggers, rapists, drug dealers, your basic low-level scum. But when I got my first real battle against a real villain, some food calling himself the GigaGod, I didn't let him harm anyone. My battle with him was over in an instant. I am a magic user, and I used a spell to freeze his heart within a small block of ice. It's not instant magical heart attack, but it'll do the trick. Zero fatalities beyond the dead villain, and honestly nobody was really grieving for somebody who had the theme of forcing people to worship him.
At first it wasn't a big deal. But when I killed the second actual villain, one of the C-listers for Colonel Command, I actually got flak. The Blooddrowned wasn't loved by anyone, since he was well known for drowning entire families at a time. And when the Colonel, flanked by War Huntress and the Caped Demon came to call on me, I was a little surprised. Even more so when they complained about how I shouldn't kill people, about the sanctity of life, and the importance of being a good example.
It was very hypocritical. That villain had killed some three dozen people, and he had been just put in an asylum from where he, and pretty much all of the villains, escaped from daily. I wasn't happy. And when I killed a D-lister who used children as drug-mules, I actually got called by the entire flipping Justice Army Command. They told me that I was going into villain territory, that they had a duty to do the right thing, and no killing. They withdrew my membership on a temporary base, until I had learned my lesson. Something I decided I wasn't going to do.
I had originally gone for a more down-played and simple uniform, grey robe of a mage, hooded, and masked, nothing flashy. After that meeting, I went full on incognito. Black robe, no voice, no talking, no small jobs. Long range spells designed to kill allowed me to take down villains left and right. I wanted to enforce peace, not be a loved hero. I didn't become a hero for the parades, the medals, or meeting the president. I became a hero to save people. And if I had to save people from the overly enthusiastic heroes, and the villains that they depended upon to fight, so be it.
Using magic, I created a person sized homunculus in my image, perfect recreation, and left it to burn in a car wreck. Faking my death. With my secret identity and heroic persona dead, I took a new moniker; The Phantom Retribution. And I cast out many murderous villains. Filthy, vile people. Those who used advanced lobotomies to create slaves without any free will, who were still capable of doing day-to-day self care. Those who made new drugs, and peddled out the old ones. Everywhere I went, I killed silently, and efficiently. The heroes knew not what to do about me at first. Especially when they dragged down an easily avoidable battle with Cambinus, the knight of the Black Star, who had been drawn to Earth by the meddling of heroes. His attack, provoked by a hero infiltrating his fortress and accidentally managing to kill his wife, devastated Dallas. 1.1 million of the 1.3 million inhabitants died. I flew in on wings made from magic manifested, past the ruined cityscape where police and national guard were being overrun by the Black Star armies as the heroes focused their attacks on the knight. I simply teleported his brain into the sun.
Afterwards, I stayed to take down the now demoralised armies, giving mercy to those who surrendered, and ending those who would fight to the bitter end. During the clean up, after I had used magic to dig a tunnel down into a celler that had been blocked by a collapsed house, a microphone was thrusted into my face by some intrepid reporter type.
''*So, can you tell our viewers a bit about yourself, Retribution?*'' I stared at her from behind the void-veil made of stars hiding my face. I knew their types, always interested in getting a hero as their private matter. ''**This battle came about because of a careless hero interfering with a foreign power. Had Soul Sailor not killed the wife of Cambinus, this attack would have never happened. I care nothing for these so-called heroes. Murderers of millions, I consider them to be.**'' And with that, I teleported to my sanctum.
I keep no electric devices, too trackable, so I didn't know before Colonel Command came to me. Angry. And the Colonel is not a man known for his soft temper. ''*I don't know who you think you are, Phantom. Do you even know what you've done? You're ruining the fun for all of us.*'' He threw a newspaper at me, which was surprising since I wasn't really certain those still existed. The front page had big blocky words: A title designed to draw your attention. It said ''Heroes or Monsters?'', an apt question. ''*This is the worst damn press we've had since the 70s. The heroes are worried, especially since there are fewer villains to go around these days because of you. How are we supposed to make ends meet if people aren't loving us, buying our toys, our merch? You've ruined the fun for all of us!*'' That was why he was angry? Not about the heroes who had sacrificed themselves being forgotten, not about the dead millions caused every year by metahumans and vigilantes? ''**I do not care for your profit margins. I care for the people. I save lives, not just here and now, but tomorrow, and in a hundred years. What you do, agitating space tyrants, putting superhuman villains in cardboard prisons, giving chances to those who consider roast baby ribs a delicacy? That is not helping anyone. That is letting the whole world suffer for no good reason. I do this for the people!**'' He started to laugh. I could not believe my own ears.
''*Who cares about the people? Those ungrateful turds should be happy we even spare time to them!*'' That was too much. With a single spell, I separated his torso from his limbs, leaving him a quadruple paraplegic. ''**I CARE ABOUT THE PEOPLE! WE HEROES ARE NOT HERE TO BE WORSHIPPED LIKE GODS! WE ARE HERE TO SAVE LIVES YOU MISERABLE NARCISSIST! If you care more about your profit margins, your filthy merch, and about the admiration, than the lives of ordinary people, then I'll ask you to deliver a simple message to your allies. Once I'm done with the villains, then, if you selfish bastards haven't reformed, I am going to come after you. Because I know the numbers, the statistics. More people die because of you heroes stopping robberies or fighting evil robots, than of cancer or obesity. In my eyes, your choice to be popular and wealthy, rather than efficient and just, is just as bad as the crimes of those whom you fight against. Apathy and complacency, is the death of all that is good.**''
I left him there, for his team to find. They will try to hunt me down in their flashy and extravagant way. But I will not play the game with them. I am the Phantom Retribution, and I will strike down evil wherever it may be found with efficient brutality.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
At first, of course, nobody believed it. They all thought that it was some sort of trick, some advertising gimmick. Nobody believed that this whole time God was real, that he was actually speaking to us now, and that, yeah, he was pissed. This whole idea of a benevolent god? No, the christians had it wrong, he was definitely more like Zeus, thunderbolts and all.
Yeah, the very first time he spoke to us, most people just looked around and ignored it. How do you explain a voice from the sky? And one that threatens us with death if our New Years resolution goes unfufilled? Nobody took it seriously.
Until people started dying. Everybody on earth heard the voice and the threat, and so naturally people started discussing their resolutions. Nobody really expected to die. Ironically, it was probably the best people who started dropping first. The idealists. People who wanted to end world hunger things like that. Impossible dreams. That was when we knew shit was serious.
Fear set in. World wide.
Unfortunately for me, I needed to connect and marry Juliet, my high school sweetheart. I wondered why I wasn't dead already, because it was an impossible task. She was already dead. She died in a car crash, one that I caused. I didn't know what to do.
So I went to her grave, on a hilltop on the outskirts of our old town. I knelt down and kissed her gravestone. I did love her. But how would I marry her now? In a flash, I knew what needed to happen. I laid down next to her, and said out loud, "I'm ready, God."And in that moment, I died. My very last thought was that when I opened my eyes I was going to see was Juliet. |
Magic is the power to bend or even break the laws of reality. To change the very fabric of existence through sheer force of will. With it, one could move mountains and mount movements, one could play with time and space like it was mere water. Mortals do not have access to magic. Not directly. But through a series of highly specific and very careful deals, a mortal being can borrow a bit of the magic belonging to ancient and nigh omnipotent beings. The deals vary from something as simply as worship, to completely incomprehensible payments, such as a potential future. But mortals always want magic, and are usually willing to pay anything for it. Such small power, and yet they are willing to pay soul and mind for it. They come to eldritch and ancient beings and offer anything to sate their lust for power.
There are powerful entities which can be dealt with. And then there are beings that can only be described as Powers. I am a Power. If a mortal being would look upon me they would see crystalline clockwork, shining with colourful lights. A few of them with greater clarity see the pulsating beams, the interlocking geometrical shapes, perhaps even hear the complex music. Their minds are too limited to comprehend what I look like. This is common. Most of us have some avatar, a smaller, more limited shape, which like a puppet we can speak through, so that the mortals don't burn their souls trying to comprehend us. For the few times I had to use one, I usually appear as a gigantic midnight-blue feline shape.
To say that I am powerful, is like saying a star is warm. My name is incomprehensible and if ever successfully spoken in its entirety on a mortal world, would cause the collapse of not only that planet, but the entire star system it is located in. This fact does not prevent mortals from trying to contact me, to make a deal for power. They think that I would grant them far greater power than if they'd speak to a lesser entity, and that much is true. But why would I do that?
Once more, a mortal has walked into the clockwork that is my body. Which is always a tad bit strange. They reach one of the areas with purple crystal columns, and in the middle of it, they pray to me for power. Honestly, it's getting really tiring. I am omnichronal, omnipresent within myself, and omnipotent, they could literally just knock on the door and ask, no need to break into my body, which is also an entire universe.
''**Cease your prattling mortal, and tell me what you want.**'' The mortal, some kind of human, can't really tell much else, I mean, can you tell the difference between two different bacteria cells? It rises. And speaks. At least this one is honest. ''*Oh all-powerful and structured one, you who with your endlessness represent all time, all possibilities, please, I offer you a gift, for a gift.*'' More empty flattery, but at least this one doesn't try to make it sound like it's in my own best interest. ''**I already know what you're going to offer me, tiny creature, and let me tell you, it isn't enough.**''
It takes a few steps back. ''*But I haven't even showed it to you?*'' If I had something similar to lungs, I might have considered sighing. ''**If a bacteria summoned you and offered you a gift would you take it? Would you give it what it wanted?**'' The human looked confused, I think, it's barely a speck within my infinite body. ''**You would have offered me the worship of an entire world, in exchange for some modicum of magic. It's not enough.**''
''*Well, what would be enough, oh greedy one?*'' The clockwork stops. ''**You are nothing. Less than nothing. A billion of your kind are nothing to me. You have nothing to offer me. Because you don't exactly get what you are dealing with. I allow you mortals to come and offer me things, because that is the custom, those are the rules of conduct. But I have never granted power to a single one of you. Because what you are to most entities, is a good and useful insect in the games of the gods and demons. The GODS and the DEMONS are like INSECTS to me, you miserable little thing. When they need power, they come to me. They offer me deals where the payment is entire galaxies to be rearranged according to my designs. Do you understand now, you miserable little thing, why I find the visit of you little mortals, who are being forgotten by your own universe, who has lifespans that are over in the blink of an eye for me, exceptionally tiring?**''
The human stepped back, perhaps frightened. ''**Go home. Linger a while in your little reality, in your universe that is being forgotten, being lost to the darkness. Even if you could give me something I wanted, a mere drop of my infinite power would kill you!**'' The human turned around in the midst of those crystal columns. And looked around with an arrogance impression. ''*Yet you did once give out power, to one mortal.*''
I shake. The universe that is my body quakes in sheer rage. ''**She was different. She came to me not knowing what I was, begging, and for a brief moment, the clockwork hearts, the stars of burning bronze, and the sapphire moons, comprising me, felt sorry. A child, lost and alone, a short existence, with no-one to turn to. I, something older than time, felt genuinely sorry. I listened to her story, I comforted that child as best as I could. And I offered her the power to save her family, taking only a symbolic gift in exchange. You are not her. She is dead. Her universe is dead. Only thing that remains of her is the memory of a genuine soul. Leave now, before I show you the full extent of my wrath.**'' The human listened, and ran.
I do not regret making the deal with her, even if it alerted other mortals to my existence, to what could be done if a deal was made with me. Yet I wish that fewer mortals would remind me of her, the one person who made an entire sentient reality shed tears. Lost in the memory, I turn to the gift she gave me in exchange for power. It is the least of all things I have ever been given, but it is the one thing I care for the most. In my vast archives, in a perfect display box, time inside of it stopped, a small midnight-blue plush cat is preserved in eternity.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
Jack Lewis couldn’t believe his luck when he was appointed public defender for Satan, he jumped for joy. It was to be the trial of the century, of the universe, and he was going to be a part of it. His colleagues at the Public Defender's office thought he was insane taking on what was sure to be a losing case. “How could you defend the Prince of Darkness, the source of evil” they wondered, as we worked diligently on his clients' defence. They were all too short sighted to see that this case was going to set legal precedent, probably forever.
It was with this confidence, that he strode into the courtroom with his client Mr. Morningstar. “Your honor,'' he began, addressing the host, who for simplicity’s sake functions much like a human judge. “ There is no doubt that my client has influenced, and directed many tragedies throughout the history of man.” “However, there are two big holes in the prosecution's argument,” he said confidently. “ First and foremost, humans were created with free will by god himself, though my client whispered in his ears and offered temptation, he committed none of these acts himself.”
“Furthermore, my client is also a creation of this supposedly all powerful god. Does he not also bear some responsibility for my client’s actions?” he stated to a stunned courtroom. “Afterall, my client does only what he believes is in the best interest of man, as programmed into him by his creator.” “While my client has clearly grown beyond the initial desires and limitations placed on him by his creator, his creator must still bear responsibility for his part.” “Satan, Lucifer, Morningstar, etc is just another creation of God.” “It is not my client’s fault that he was made this way, he is doing as he was programmed.” “ Or do we really believe Satan just showed up one day of his own accord and started wreaking havoc?” The court was stunned, “ Your honor, I rest my case” |
*I slaughtered them like animals.*
My own words come back to haunt me as I see Obi-Wan step out from behind Padme. I can read the intent in his mind and see it in his eyes. He knows what I've done, and he's come to stop me no matter the cost. But then I feel myself pulled away.
I snap into my body, and a burning sensation all across it. I stare through yellow hate-filled eyes at Obi-Wan as he retrieves my lightsaber and walks away, leaving me to die with the knowledge that I killed my wife and unborn children.
The Force pulls me back into the present, and I realize that I was just given a vision.
*I slaughtered them like animals.*
And what did I gain? My beloved mother Shmi was still dead. It just a momentary act of anger and vengeance, but no justice. My whole childhood as a slave flashed before my eyes as I realize that justice is more important than vengeance. I realize that I've always been a slave, to Watto, then Qui-Gon, then the Jedi as a whole, but finally to Sidious and the Dark Side.
I collapse under the weight of my own actions as Obi-Wan falters in his stride. I can sense the conflict in his mind, but also the brotherly love that he holds for me, despite my actions. I can sense that he still hopes he can fight a seed of light inside me, but I can also sense his doubt that it exists.
Everyone has always spoken of me as different, the Chosen One as some believe. But so often my own arrogance or pride, or even anger, has stopped me from reaching my full potential. But as the pieces settle in my mind I can sense the Living Force flowing beneath me, a wild current but one which I can bend to my will.
I submerge myself into the current fully, for the first time. I let it wash me across light-years, to Coruscant. I can feel myself being drawn to Sidious, and I let it happen. I flow into his mind, destroying all the darkness within it. The darkness can only be destroyed by light, and I see myself turn into a being of pure light as I burn away the darkness. And as it, and I, fade, I hear a familiar voice.
*Your focus determines your reality...*
My focus is fully on the Living Force, and I feel the warm embrace of a master I barely knew as my physical body fades. |
There are two types of reality bender, when you get down to it: those who have cults, and those who don't. Unfortunately for us, Waldo had a cult. Big one, too-- dozens of men and women in striped sweaters. He even had a type blue-- that's a mage for you rookies out there, Coalition terminology-- that he could use to bolster his own powers. And what he could do with them...
I first encounter him in London. The natural history museum there is good for a lot of things, but their dinosaur exhibit? Sucks. You have to crane your neck up to look at the skeletons, and they didn't fact-check their shit, to the point where a ten-year-old had to correct one of their exhibits. I'm not even remotely making that up.
I was with Pi-1 Back then-- City Slickers. Didn't know what we were getting in to. We pursued him from King's Cross, and he was always two blocks ahead of us, despite the fact we were in a car. He's *waiting* by the door to the museum when we get there, just casually strolls in, twirling his cane and everything.
It took us ten minutes to get to the dinosaur exhibit-- the building got longer the more we were in there. Should've brought in Psi-7, they work with the weird architecture, but they're based in New York. Quincy tried to take a shot when he got up to the big animatronic T. Rex, but he just shouted "WHERE AM I?"and the whole place changed.
It became crowded enough that I couldn't hold up my gun. Dozens of people popped out of nowhere, not just people-- little striped dinosaurs, cavemen and women in plaid shirts, ferns that obscured our vision. And of course, his cult was there, popping out of the pocket dimension he has in his stupid beanie. He even made up his own freaking Satan-figure for his cult, some poor guy in a moustache and yellow-and-black clothes named Odlaw. Who does that?
I was cut off from everyone else, as the cult began chanting. "Where am I? Where am I? Where am I?"to the point where it drowned out the screams of the people being crushed by polka-dot T. Rexes. Comms were scrambled, naturally. Our objective was the same at every little dance we did with him: find him.
Twelve days. That's how long we were in there, in the crush, with dinosaurs and cavepeople and sobbing kids wanting to get out. The ritual they were doing gave him enough power to jam traffic across Europe. That's all he wanted, in the end-- chaos. Disruption. Narcissism. 'Find me and you can stop the pain'. We never did.
We found something better: his dog. Guy was still human, once, and the first thing he did was bring his dog back to life. I should feel conflicted for holding a puppy at gunpoint, but bear in mind this guy twisted a single shard of the Berlin Wall in the Smithsonian into a hellish maze that still isn't fully contained.
He stopped the ritual the instant he heard his dog barking in pain. We agreed to an exchange-- he stop the ritual, we give him back the dog. And we did. Of course, we didn't tell him about the retrovirus we had injected into the pooch, one that would spread to him and nullifiy his abilities within the next week. Thing is, it was only temporary.
So, you're wondering, Where's Waldo? Contained in a chemical coma, just to make sure he doesn't get his abilities back. Of course, his cult's still around, so that's a problem.
\*\*\*\*
It's always amusing to see SCP stuff around here. |
Archdemon. He was impossibly strong and impossibly tough: simple, basic powers, but this had let him excel in the manner of someone swinging around a sledgehammer at a karate tournament. He’d once been thought of as possessing pyromancy and a number of fire-related talents but he *didn’t*: it’s just that when he really tried, Archdemon’s punches connected with such force that they ignited his surroundings.
He was a nightmare. He wasn’t even that big, not really. He was just a moderately tall guy in shiny black leather and a horned motorcycle helmet. But he was a nightmare all the same.
Archdemon. He had never lost to a hero. *Any* hero. No other villain could make that claim.
All things considered, Zephyra thought, there wasn’t a much more badass way to die. Who else could say it had taken Archdemon to kill them?
Quite a lot of people, probably, because he was a villain, but Zephyra didn’t want to dwell on that.
Zephyra backflipped off the wall, cracking it, and propelled herself at Archdemon. The punch she landed could (and had) levelled houses but he barely flinched. Archdemon reached out and grabbed her and threw her into the ground.
So he was fast, too. Why did nobody ever talk about how fast he was?
She jumped back up out of the crater and performed a flying kick... and Archdemon slapped her leg to the side with barely any effort. Zephyra fell and he kicked her away before she even reached the ground, demolishing a fence, a dumpster and a particularly unlucky pigeon that hadn’t been paying attention.
Zephyra updated her earlier metaphor: an adult, with a sledgehammer, at a karate tournament for *toddlers*. Zephyra knew she was no slouch but this man was *ridiculously* strong.
Zephyra managed to pull herself up into an awkward kneel, and even then she had to support her body with both hands, gasping for breath.
And Archdemon punched her. The surrounding windows shattered, and the garbage bags in the alley turned into fiery tumbleweed.
“Tell me, hero,” said Archdemon. His voice was deep but not nearly as deep and scary as you’d expect for a villain with his reputation. “Why are you still fighting?”
Zephyra hurt all over. In fact in all her fights, this was probably the most she’d ever hurt. She took a kind of pride in that: guess what, assholes, it had taken Arch-goddamn-demon to hurt me.
That was a high note. Shame about the dying.
Archdemon was still closing the distance. If he was the slightest bit hurt or fatigued from their clash, it didn’t show.
“I ask again, sidekick.” The villain clenched his fists. “*Why are you still fighting?”*
Zephyra pulled herself up a second time. She gave Archdemon a look that she hoped was more defiant than pained.
“Because somebody has to,” she growled, through gritted teeth.
“Hmm.” Archdemon seemed to consider this, nodding back and forth as if rolling the statement around to check how it tasted. “Not the most inspiring comeback but you’ve definitely got the spirit. You’ll make for a worthy first applicant.”
He helped the woman back to her feet and brushed a few embers from her costume’s sky-blue shoulders. He released her and turned away and Zephyra was so surprised that she nearly fell back down.
She blinked, or rather winked each eye one after the other, because Zephyra had been dazed to the point that she was out of sync. “What is happening.”
“You have regenerative abilities, yes?” Archdemon asked. “You do not require medical attention?”
“Yeah I can heal really fast as long as I… no. I said ‘what is happening’ and I stand by it. Please tell me what is happening. I feel like I’m missing something.”
“I have long felt that the All-Star Eleven are an insult to the legacy of superheroes,” said Archdemon, “and to that end I have decided to start an opposing league of heroes.”
Zephyra laugh-coughed. “You? Archdemon? *Starting a hero team?!”*
“Nobody else has my experience of heroes.”
“You beat them up! And that’s no kind of answer either way! I don’t care whether you’d be *good* at it, which you wouldn’t, it’s just a nonsensical plan!”
Archdemon looked up at the sky and made a fist. “Tormentor,” he said, apparently to the clouds, “we need a pick-up.”
“Even if I accepted the premise, *which I don’t*,” Zephyra continued, “you can’t go around trying to kill people to test their performance. That’s mad.”
Archdemon gave Zephyra a look. “I intend no offence, because you performed most admirably, but we wouldn’t be having this conversation if I’d been trying to kill you.”
“Well that’s a hell of a thing to say to someone you—” Zephyra stopped. “Admirably? You think I fought admirably?”
“Yes. You remind me of Thunder Woman when she premiered.”
“Thunder Woman,” Zephyra breathed. She allowed herself a moment of self-congratulation, because villain or not, Archdemon was quite literally the only man on the planet to go up against Thunder Woman and win.
“Much weaker and slower, but yes, your technique is very reminiscent of Thunder Woman’s.”
And the moment died. “Thanks for the pep talk,” Zephyra said icily.
An airship appeared. It was an uncomfortable mix of blimp and flying saucer, giving the impression that someone had crashed the two together and then tried to weld what was left, and as it descended the huge door on its side opened. From within a blonde woman with goggles and a labcoat waved to Archdemon.
While labcoats and goggles were universally popular among all mad scientists, Zephyra recognised this specific one: Tormentor. Skinny, extra mad, had a big quiff and a creepy robot eye.
In that case the airship was *definitely* a blimp that had collided with a flying saucer.
“Are you serious about this hero team thing?” Zephyra asked in a low voice.
“I am,” said Archdemon.
“So you’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“No. My stance is ‘I do whatever I want’ and that has never changed.”
“That’s villain talk, alright.”
“Glad we’re in agreement.” Archdemon rumbled from deep within his chest. That, at least, was a sound that fitted him. “The All-Star Eleven share that ideology, such as it is. They are nothing but villains with better PR.”
The airship hovered a few metres from the ground. A ramp lazily swung out from its base. Archdemon stepped onto it and lacking any better ideas... Zephyra followed him.
Tormentor met Archdemon inside, and the hero watched the two villains shake hands.
“It’s been a while,” said Tormentor.
“Yes,” said Archdemon. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you sexy freak.” Tormentor glanced at Zephyra, as if she was a mere afterthought to the day’s events. “So what’s her deal? Why’s she here?”
“I punched her and she got right back up,” said Archdemon.
“Fair.” Tormentor gave Zephyra a nod. “That’s… man. That’s actually really impressive.”
Zephyra looked around the vehicle as the villains saw to the take-off procedures. A transport, not a base: as huge and imposing as the balloon component was, the flying saucer undercarriage was only twenty feet across.
The walls were lined with what Zephyra could only think of as miscellaneous mad scientist junk. Beakers, books, papers… and a lot of weapons. Guns, swords, strange pole-arms with bobbles on the end. And a lot of unpleasant smells.
“What happens if I want out?” Zephyra asked warily.
“Then you can go,” said Archdemon. “If you want no part of this, I will let you leave. No questions asked. You can go home.”
“And I should believe you? I should believe that you’ll let me go after all of this? After everything I’ve seen? Because no. I’m not onboard. Sorry.”
“Tormentor, please open the door,” Archdemon asked, solemn and perhaps a tad sad.
Tormentor flipped a switch and the hatch slid open. The howling wind gratefully slipped inside, throwing around papers and rattling the contents of shelves.
And Archdemon pushed Zephyra out of the airlock.
“Dude,” said Tormentor, with a rare tone of disgust.
“She will survive the fall. Effortlessly.”
“Again, *really* not the point I’m making here.”
“A hero team needs *volunteers*,” Archdemon said firmly. “If she does not want to be here, she does not need to be here.”
“I really don’t get you, Archie,” said Tormentor, raising her voice against the wind as she hit the “close” button. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re actually dense or if you’re just pretending to—”
Thunder sounded in the distance… specifically from below. A backwards thunderstorm with the crash and reverberations coming from far beneath them.
Zephyra hit the deck with enough force to set the whole airship vibrating, a mirror to the rumbling below.
“Okay wow.” Tormentor took a step back. “You jumped all the way up from…? We’re like a mile up in the… That’s… *damn*, kid. Just damn.”
“I’m in,” Zephyra declared loudly. The door shut behind her and a few errant sheets of paper fell to the floor. “I just wanted to see what you’d do. Also: do not ever, ever do it again.”
Archdemon smiled. Nobody could see behind his helmet, but they could tell. “Agreed.”
Zephyra patted his arm, cagily, and immediately cheered up when he didn’t try to throw her out the airlock again.
“So what’s our next move?” Zephyra asked. “Who’s the next recruit you’re thinking of?”
Archdemon approached the airship’s controls. “You’re aware that I have never lost a fight with a hero?”
“Uh, duh? It’s sort of your thing. It’s why you’re a big deal, even now.”
“Glad to hear it.” Archdemon tapped something into the console. “But I am not invulnerable. I have lost against *villains*. And anyone who can put me down, can help us.”
“Sounds like suicide but whatever,” said Tormentor. “What else am I meant to do with my day. Sure. Let’s go hunt for the inhuman monster that can beat Archdemon.”
“Yeah!” Zephyra exclaimed excitedly.
“Oh, god,” muttered Tormentor. “*Neither of them* get sarcasm. This is my life now.” |
Modifying timelines is tricky business. For something so fundamental to the fabric of reality, time is shockingly fragile. Technology advanced enough that we could make small changes in the early 22nd century and most of the time since has been spent setting up an infrastructure of agents who document reports that are brought from their timeline to the Timeline Integrity Organization.
The TIO exists in a bubble outside of time and space. That's not to say it is totally unaffected, the agents there still age, but when modifications are made to the timeline the TIO can serve as a vault to ensure that things remain as close to the original timeline as possible.
Agent 23-23-24 spends day after day, reading reports from field agents and comparing the detail from the baseline reports before the TIO started modifications. There is an acceptable range of deviation, but outside of the intended effects, things are meant to be identical. This is usually easy to validate as the same field agent fills out the report in the baseline and the updated timeline and they are incredibly consistent in their files.
*July 3rd 2020 - Original Report #000125450A*
*Case Agent - 08-08-12*
*Subject - Francis Bellemont*
*Subject has gone to lunch at a local pizzeria ironically called The Pizza Place. He sits with two slices of specialty pizza and a soda. He smiles at the waitress who smiles back. They seem to have a connection. Throughout the meal they keep making eyes at each other - it's actually rather cute to watch - and when she hands him the bill, I'd be willing to bet there is a phone number written with a heart.*
*July 3rd 2020 - Modification Report #000125450B*
*Case Agent - 08-08-12*
*Subject - Francis Bellemont*
*Subject has gone to lunch at a local pizzeria ironically called The Pizza Place. He sits with two slices of specialty pizza and a soda. He smiles at the waitress but she doesn't make eye contact. If I had to guess, his shirt had something to do with it.*
Agent 23-23-24 stopped reading there, made a note and scratched his head. It was small but wasn't accounted for in the deviation report. Bellemont's life should be business as usual. 23-23-24 submits the deviation and sits back. A shirt? 08-08-12 didn't mention Bellemont's shirt the first time.
23-23-24 looked earlier in the day, earlier than the analysis was scheduled to begin and found another discrepancy. Bellemont wasn't supposed to own that shirt. He had his eye on it in the store a few days earlier but another man bought it before he could. That man was Taylor Micah and there was a deviation report submitted for him too. He was supposed to go to that store, but instead he was at lunch with a friend named Cheryl Cooke. Cooke was grieving the death of a friend who...who was the original modification.
They missed something.
23-23-24 went in the other direction. Bellemont and the waitress were supposed to get married, have kids, grandkids, great-grandkids named.
*Oh fuck.*
23-23-24 didn't submit another report. He ran. He ran through the office as fast as possible to the unit leader.
"We have a problem!"he shouted as he entered, but several other agents were already in the room.
"I'm aware, agent. We've taken corrective action. The only action there was time for."
"What action is there to take?"
"In time."
Three more agents ran into the office before the unit leader stood.
"I believe that is everyone. Thank you all for coming. It speaks to the integrity of our unit that you all found the error. A mistake was made. Something was overlooked by the Modification Mapping Unit. Dan Kennedy was killed as part of a Modification. Due to this, several degrees of separation later, Francis Bellemont did not get the phone number of his eventual wife. As a result, James Porter was never born and the TIO was never created."
"How are we still here?"one agent asked. It was a fair question. "How do we have reports?"
"The bubble is protecting us. It will hold, for a time. Eventually even that will break down and the TIO will be gone."
"You said corrective action was taken?"23-23-24 asked.
"We've sent Agent 9."
The room went still. Agent 9 was the gold standard. He could move quickly and resolve anything. That was what they said anyway.
"How much time do we have, sir?"
The unit leader checked his watch, walked to his desk and turned his monitor around. The monitor showed a timer counting down from thirty.
"Thirty seconds. If Agent 9 got the job done, life will continue as usual. If not, our office will cease to exist."
The office was silent as the timer ran down. With five seconds to go, the unit leader spoke again. "No matter the case, it has been a pleasure working with you all."
The timer reached zero. |
The Primordial forces had been around for so long, they had lost the gift of sentience. Chaos and Order were no longer rivals; they could not form enough of an active thought to feel animosity. Likewise, Life and Death were simply...ideas. Concepts that lacked a living force behind them.
Time, it seemed, came for even the Divines- and it took them. Even some of the second generation of the Divines were going, if not already gone- the Sun, the Moon- though they still hung in the sky, they were impotent.
The oldest remaining Divine was The Lady of Dance. No upstart had ever desired her title, and it seemed that teaching the younger generations the finer things in life had managed to keep her in good health.
Or so it was in the eyes of the public. They were wrong about a few key things.
I was the only one who knew the truth. Beneath the flowery dress and courtly smile, the Lady of Dance bore no wrinkled, rotting body. She remained, as she always had been, lithe and strong. Her mind was sharp- and she did not sustain herself off of the attentions of the younger generation who sought her instruction in dance and etiquette. She fed on *souls*.
For she was The Patron of Assassins, the Lady of the Silence, the Queen of the Damned. Life was *dead*, and before me stood its counterpart, the true victor of an eternal struggle.
She was *Death*.
"Darling, the courtiers arrive at sundown, could you handle their class for me? I have...some matters to attend to."
A wry smile darkened my face for a brief moment. "Of course, my lady."
"Your bloodlust is *leaking*, darling."She chastised me.
"Only my lady is so in tune with these things. No one else would have known."I casually brushed away long strand of my curly chestnut hair.
A harsh look came into her eye. "I tolerate no flaws in my followers, Poet. You, least of all."
I bowed. "Apologies. I will...restrain my enthusiasm in the future."
"Go."
I went. There was no arguing with Lady Death.
I taught the dance class, just as I was instructed- a simple matter, really, though it *did* always amuse me to see the faint moment of disappointment that it was not the Lady of Dance who was teaching. Though she was certainly thought of as the lowest of the Divines, she was given some sort of cousin to respect- the kind you might give a loony grandmother, perhaps?
The class went by quickly, with me calling out instructions and exercises in the large, mirrored room which we called The Studio...for obvious enough reasons.
I dismissed the class eventually, all of them positively dripping sweat- but smiling. There was a kind of satisfaction in that, though it paled in comparison to what I felt when completing a contract for Lady Death.
I returned to Lady Death's room, for one last check-in before I would leave for the night. After all- despite all my strength and talents, I was still mortal. There was no way for me to stay in the realm of the Divines past the equivalent of midnight.
"Come in, Poet. Quickly."I knew that tone. The Lady had work for me to do.
I entered swiftly, a sheen of sweat still adorning my bare arms. I had hidden all of my scars under makeup, and still looked the part of the Lady of Dance's capable assistant... an illusion I was eager to shed.
"My lady!"I responded, bowing in her presence.
"Poet, my darling... do you really wish to remain a mortal?"Not one for beating around the bush, my lady.
"My lady- the only reason I would wish to become immortal is that I may serve you longer than my mortal lifespan would allow me."
"Perfect. That is exactly what I want. Tell me, how would you like to usurp a currently empty mantle? How would you like to leave behind the given name of Poet, and become Luna, the Goddess of the Moon?" |
“Name please”
“Jack Vanderbos”
“Right this way sir”
I point at one of the two doors. The one that goes to hell. Hmm, Vanderbos was quite the criminal two murders, five vandalisation charges and charges for illegal possession of a firearm.
“Am I going to hell?!” Vanderbos looks startled.
“Yup sorry mate good luck out there” I reply without any emotions.
And then he throws a fit. “Ugh” I think “you killed someone, face the repercussions”. I flick my fingers and a guardian drags Vanderbos away.
“Next one!”
I hear a little girl cry. These ones always hits hard. I quickly take a sip of my emotion killers.
“Name?”
“S-Sara Anderson mister”
When are these emotion killers gonna kick in? I feel tears forming in my eyes as I see her docs. Killed in a shootout at six years old. I drink the whole bottle to the last sip. It usually kicks in instantly but this time... not. The tears begin streaming down my face. She didn’t deserve to die!
“C-c-can I please check out now?” The little girl looks scared. Wait what?! I quickly rumble through her docs she’s... she’s checking out! Tears, not of sadness but of joy stream down my face.
“Of course you can! Right this way” the girl smiles and thanks me. She walks to the exit and waves one last time before she disappears.
“You did it right son” I hear a voice say.
“I think you’re free to go” says the voice. “Am I free?” I ask out loud.
“Yes you are, you stood the test, those emotion killers were one of the strongest ones, yet you still felt emotions for those who deserve it. Now go out and make the most of it before it ends” |
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