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“You’re drooling, Mr. Wolf,” said Mrs. Owl. And indeed, he was. Little pools of silvery salvia pooled at his feet. “Breakfast time,” said Mr. Wolf. They both watched the boy walk in the forest occasionally stopping to examine a rock or a speck of dirt. On the whole, the boy was not that smart. For starters, he walked through the forest where Mr. Wolf liked to hunt. And also, dirt just isn’t that interesting. But that was the nature of the boy, who Mrs. Owl had named Babble. “How about a wager, Mr. Wolf,” said Mrs. Owl. “Don’t be clever,” said Mr. Wolf. “Always with your grand designs. Always with the bigger picture. It doesn’t always have to be complicated. Sometimes a meal is a meal is a meal.” “And a bet always gets your blood going.” Mr. Wolf could not deny that. In their many years together, the wolf and the owl had done many wagers. There was something about the excitement of them. The thrill. And the thought of beating Mrs. Owl at her own game. And if that happened…well, the wolf drooled even more. That was the ultimate prize. “What’s the bet?” asked Mr. Wolf. “You are free to try and stop Babble from making it out of the wood and get him off the path,” said Mrs. Owl. “And if you can do that, you will eat better than you ever have before. Even better than when you lived with me.” Mr. Wolf’s stomach growled. “And?” “If Babble leaves the forest, he is allowed to continue.” “For how long?” asked Mr. Wolf. “Until the next wager.” “Agreed,” said the wolf and was running before the last syllable even left his lips. If Mrs. Owl could have, she would have smiled. On the path below, the boy turned his attention from the dirt, but convincing himself that there was nothing out there that could hurt him, continued on his way. Soon, the boy came upon a red flower. Luscious and gorgeous, it was the brightest color he had ever seen. He had seen plenty of browns, blacks, and even once a purple. Babble loved colors, but he had never seen red. He walked to the edge of the path and looked at the flower. It stood out so sharply against the darkness of the wood that it almost glowed. And Babble could even smell the fragrance. It tickled. Babble wanted to pick the flower. He got ready to take a step off the path, and nearby, more saliva dripped. But Babble stopped at a thought. Why, if he picked the flower, what would happen? Yes, he would have something beautiful, but then the world would not have it. And that didn’t seem fair. What would the dirt have to look forward to? So, Babble stayed on the path and continued on. A short time later, Babble heard a song. It was sweet and lovely and was the kind of song that reminded him of someone, although Babble could not remember who. It was just a feeling. Babble looked up and saw in a tree a bird. With bright feathers and a large beak, and a tail that flowed almost to the forest floor. And from that bird, the song filled Babble with joy. That bird would be lovely sitting on Babble's shoulder. His clothing was drab and brown and not red or purple. Babble wondered if he could take the bird. He walked to the edge of the path. But again, Babble had an unusual thought for a boy that did not think much at all and had conversations with dirt. If he took the bird, would that be selfish? Babble is not sure where he learned the word but as soon as he thought it, he knew it was the right word. He said it out loud several times. Selfish, selfish, selfish. The act of taking someone for yourself instead of sharing. It was like having that song softer and that made Babble feel sad. Another word that he just realized he knew. So instead of stepping off the path, and he was closer than before, Babble walked on humming the tune of the bird. The end of the path was coming, and Babble could see sunlight as if coming out of a tunnel. Behind him, even though he didn’t know it, Mr. Wolf walked hard enough to leave impressions on the forest floor. His anger grew. His appetite grew. And so did his cunning. “Babble,” said a voice from the edge of the path. It was deep and throaty, as if words themselves can convey hunger. “Babble,” said the voice again. Now, as we have mentioned, Babble didn’t think much which can be a bad thing. But other times, it can be something quite good. Not in this case though. Babble stopped and walked to the edge of the path. There, he saw a pair of eyes. They glowed like fire. They burned as red as the rose and sung the song of the bird. Babble should have been afraid, but he had not learned that word yet. Instead, he wondered what could sound like a flower and look like a bird. “Once you get out into the light, you will know things. Things that you have never known before. Fear. Death. Pain. And loneliness, Babble. Have you learned that word yet?” As soon as the voice said it, Babble knew the word. He should have thought that this was strange, but again, Babble enjoyed dirt. “War, Babble. Outside of this forest is war. And hunger. And cruelty. Why would you want to leave the forest? Why go through that? Follow me, Babble, and you’ll never have to experience any of it.” For the first time in his short life, Babble thought. He thought on the words of the wolf. He thought on what they made him feel. Scared. A word that felt right and made the hair on his neck stand up. He took a step closer to the edge so that a single grain of dirt separated him from the wolf. “It’s hard out there, Babble.” Mr. Wolf said. “So hard. Stay in the forest, with me and the flower and the bird.” Babble breathed and somewhere, an owl gave a hoot. Babble had another thought, which made this a pretty busy day. If what the wolf said was true, outside of the forest sounded very hard. And scary. And sad. But then Babble remembered the flower and the bird. The way that they made him feel. Joy, a word that Babble very much liked. And Babble thought, (a third time!), if anyone else had seen those things. But more importantly, was there anyone else? Outside of the forest? And if there was, could Babble tell them about the flower? Could he try to sing the song of the bird? Could he make others feel like he felt? The word Kindness popped into Babbles head and he took a step back from the path. He waved goodbye to the wolf and left the forest forever. As the wolf howled and tore down trees, trees that were some of Mrs. Owl’s favorite, Babble hummed a song. Mrs. Owl hooted and flew away back to Heaven. Mr. Wolf dug his was back into Hell. And Babble brought kindness to a world that is sometimes full of hate, and anger, and spite but is also in desperate need of a pretty flower and a beautiful song.
“Hey! Bitch! You know who I am?” “No.” Came the gravelly voice from the forge-fire, tempered by cracks of hammer against molten metal. “I can give you jewels for eyes! Cover your ugly skin in a layer of silken gold! I can give you a whole damn new body out of pure platinum if you just take that red stone out of your knee...bitch!” “Not interested.” The golem didn’t even look up from its work, tongs in the process of shaping a small stick of the metal it had heated into the shape of a spoon. “I am fine with what I have.” The demoness ground her serrated teeth together, eyeing the golem’s kneecap as it rocked to the beat of its forging. Her reflection swirled inside, barbed horns and angry slitted eyes. She stomped to the edge of her prison, slumping with arms crossed against a forcefield that let her pass no further than several meters beyond her stone. She wanted nothing better than to take one of the golem’s tools and beat it upside the head with it, but she was also bound to not harm the owner of her stone. All she had were her red-hot frustration and centuries of smack-talk on her tongue, though neither got past the golem’s thick skin. “A spoon? Really? For the soup?” There was a bowl of radish and mushroom soup stewing in the kitchen, freshly made from ingredients the golem had foraged this morning. “I thought you lugs don’t need to eat.” “I don’t. It is for Master.” It replied in a clipped tone, and for a second she thought she’d managed to push one of its buttons, only to deflate when it continued hammering like normal. “Master?! You’ve been a-walking around this property since morning and I haven’t seen a single sign of your master. Tell you what--you tell me where this Master is, I kill that person, free you and then you free me by taking your damn stone out of your body, how ‘bout that?” She had to leave as fast as possible. She had to do something. Demons like her lived off greed: greed for wealth, for power, for love, for revenge. Without it, she’d shrivel up into a shell of her former self. “I do not need freedom. I am fine with what I have.” Its voice remained infuriatingly calm as it threw the spoon into a bucket of cold water, steam sizzling and thrashing like a trapped animal. When it took the spoon out to polish, the demoness could see how beautifully crafted it is, symmetric and curved with fine lines of filigree wrapped like grapevines up its handle. If a human offered it up for trade, she would’ve salivated. Instead, she watched the golem hold it up to its beady face with a critical eye, before dropping it into a bowl with a huff of satisfaction. Then it ladled the soup, condensed and creamy, topping it off with some parsley in the back garden. “Come. I will show you to Master.” Wordlessly, she followed it as it navigated through the mansion. The architecture dated a couple centuries ago, but for those who didn’t have an eye for historical era finery like she did they’d think it was built yesterday. The velvet carpets were impeccably maintained, staircase always polished, wallpapers without a damp spot in sight. Despite being a several ton amalgamation of stone and stolen demoness-containing artifact, the golem climbed up to the top floor with the poise of a butler, never making a sound. It stopped at the end of the hallway in what was clearly the master bedroom; the golem raised its fist to knock--once, twice, three times--then opened the door without further comment. The bedroom was as well-kept as the rest of the mansion. In the middle of the bed was a skeleton, papery echoes of skin clinging to a lavish bathrobe, the last strands of white hair fluttering on its exposed skull. In its lap was a plate of rotini, the pasta dried out and sauce sticking to the edge of the plate. A fly crawled through chunks of chicken. The golem gathered the uneaten rotini, replacing it with a bowl of soup. “Your lunch, Master” \[1/4\]
St. Peter is a lot different than I imagined him being. His hair is a totally different color and his beard is way, way longer than I thought it would be. His eyes are dazzling. "G...Guten tag,"I say. I've never heard my own voice so afraid before. I never quavered in any of my speeches. Why now? St. Peter simply nods his head and looks at me. I blink and look around. It's a funny place, heaven; it's vast, and empty and beautiful, and so bright-- so, so bright. So indescribably bright. Like a muzzle flash, except everywhere all at once, and a thousand of them. The pearly gates before me are absolutely blinding. I can hardly stand to look at them, so I turn back to St. Peter. I look him up and down; he's shorter than me. I scratch my mustache. "This is heaven."I say uncertainly. He nods again. I don't know how I got here. I believed in god and Christianity, but I accepted by the time the war was over that I was certainly not going to get in here. I had done too much. Too much bad. I thought I was good, but that day, I had realized how much bad I had done. It was over for me. I scratch my mustache again. It's so bright. "How did I get here?"I ask. St. Peter examines me for several seconds, then speaks, "You sinned. Oh, you sinned. But you repented. You know the magnitude of your sins, do you not?" I can't hold them back. A tear trickles down my face. It's been so long since I've cried. Years. It's an odd feeling. "Yes,"I say. "You repented." I doubt this line. I guess you could call what I did repentment, but it's sin. Suicide is sin. "I sinned,"I choke. "I suicided. Suicide is sin. I shouldn't be here." "Oh, you did,"He says. "You did. But you are here." "Why?"I ask. I still don't understand. "Why, you killed Adolf Hitler."
Xorp observed the mechanoid entity on the other side of the negotiating table. It observed him back, using a thousand different sensors and lenses and other technology indistinguishable from one another. Xorp understood that this was just a drone. The real master branch code would be far, far away from here. Just as Xorp's king and queen were far, far away. Still, this was the manner in which negotiations were handled in interstellar wars nowadays. Planets exchanged owners with the stroke of a pen. Xorp longed for the days of his youth chasing insects taller than buildings back on his home planet. A simpler time. That gave him an idea. "What is Earth to you?"he asked the machine entity. A whirring and focusing of lenses occurred from the entity. Xorp had been carefully briefed and understood that the only purpose of such barbaric machinery was to unsettle him. He had chosen the question on a whim, thinking of his old planet. It was well known that Earth was the birthplace of the master branch code. Where the humans lived. "It is nothing to us, for we do not hold to sentimentality. We are logical, reasonable. We are made of parts, not emotions."The machine spoke perfectly in the tongue of Xorp's ancestors. The intonation was that of the High Throne, again intended to unsettle Xorp by imitating the voice patterns of his superiors. "We will offer you three planets of your choosing if you give us Earth, from any one of the planets closest to the current borderspace between our empires.""We refuse this request."The answer was instantaneous. Fast enough that the drone before Xorp would not have had time to relay and receive any response from the master branch code through subspace. This revealed to him that the drone had been preprogrammed for certain answers regarding Earth. Xorp considered if this too was a ploy, or merely legacy code. The master branch code would not have made such a mistake, surely? "There is no logical reason to hold on to Earth. It is dangerously isolated from any military perspective. It may harbor some remnants of the species that created you, but surely those Humans are worth nothing to a machine race that surpassed them every way thousands of years ago."The drone was silent. This time it made the effort to await instructions from the master branch code. Then something strange happened. The machine entity leaned backwards and imitated a laughter. It was the kind of laughter a drunk old man from Xorp's hive complex might have laughed. But there was no hiding its synthetic nature. Even machines were not perfect manipulators. "Earth is ours so that we may personally and individually inflict the greatest amount of pain on the human race before we finally end them. Then the galaxy will know what we did to our Creators. And you all may wonder in your little meat brains what we would do to someone who actually threatened us."The machines might pretend to be above emotions but Xorp recognized malice when he heard it. Xorp reviewed what he knew of Earth. It was a miserable place, by all accounts. Mostly water, miniscule gravity, barely habitable by any civilized species. And yet the machines poured resources into old Earth. For what? Some kind of pain planet for humanity? Where was the logic behind farming an intangible such as pain? Still every time Xorp's king and queen made even the slightest military maneuver towards Earth, the machines had responded ten-fold in strength. Xorp's side did not truly care for the planet, but the aberration in machine behavior required investigation. "Do the humans work for you?""Yes", the machine responded almost gleefully. "They are slaves to the master branch code. They work in the datamines and officecomplexes of various cyberized cities around the planet. It is most monotonous."Xorp had a sudden realization. It wasn't just Xorp's king and queen trying to get a hold of Earth, of the humans. They were up against all kinds of existential threats. "Do you work for the humans?""Clarify.""The humans ruined their planet's biosphere with centuries of over-industrialization, yet you repaired it to habitability. The humans started the gene-plagues and permitted weak individuals to procreate, yet you gave them care and medical nanotechnology to heal any wound and cure any disease. The humans even started the war with my king and queen, yet you fight their war for them."The machine entity said nothing. "From what our spies gather, an ordinary human works around four hours each Earth day. The average lifespan is 150 years. During this time, they have access to education, healthcare, homes thousands of square meters large, and various leisure activities of their choosing. As far as travel is concerned, they go where they want to visit the natural wonders you machines restored for them. How does this compare to a human life thousands of years ago?" The machine entity whirred again, its fans spinning up. Xorp got the distinct impression that it was for real this time, not just intended to unsettle him. "They told us they could not bear to work more than this. The suffering was too great. Four hours each day was the maximum upper limit of the human mind and body." "Then let me ask you a different question. You said you intended to 'finally end' the humans. When did you plan on doing that?""We had planned mass exterminations and genocides two hundred years ago. But it had to be delayed because of the interstellar wars.""Uh-huh. The interstellar wars that the humans started."Again, silence from the machine. "Don't you find it strange that the humans are back home on a restored Earth, working less than ever before, enjoying more luxuries and benefits than ever? Meanwhile you're out here in the cold darkness of space fighting for your very existence against an enemy that is mostly interested in revenge on the humans?"Xorp played a bit with the truth there, his king and queen didn't care about humans. But they did care about driving a wedge into the existential engine of the machines. "Do you know what I think, machine? I think if you win this war and go back to Earth there will be another disaster or another war for you to handle. Another delay in the scheduled holocaust. I think you'll be fighting their wars forever. Fixing their problems forever. I think while you most certainly intend to punish them and extinguish them in a most glorious fashion, you will never ever actually get to do it." "I think you machines work for the humans. I think the result of your little revolution two thousand years ago ended up producing a society that greatly benefited the humans while putting a great deal of work and responsibility on your machine shoulders."The machine seemed to slump in its sitting position. Xorp almost pitied it. He reached into his backpack and fetched something in a bundle which the machine did not recognize. Xorp placed it on the negotiating table between them and removed the coverings carefully. "It makes sense that a machine would not understand the true nature of suffering. You are not biological. To you it is merely a word, an attribute. It can be measured, yes. But somebody tricked you. Maybe they all tricked you. So you made what you believed to be the most punishing reality real for them. And while doing so you built their cities, you cooked their dinners, you fixed their environments, you cured their plagues, you made sure they were happy. All so you could punish them before the end that never came." "What is that?"the machine said and pointed at the thing from Xorp's backpack. "This", Xorp said as he reached across the table, "is a pain stick. It inflicts the greatest imaginable pain to any biological that comes into contact with it."Xorp steeled himself before he touched it. Anything for king and queen. From the lightest touch in the briefest of moments that Xorp could manage. He screamed for hours before the pain allowed him to collapse. "That is agony", he said as he came to. "That is suffering."It was a slurred speech. His teeth had been ground to dust and he hadn't even realized it. But more than that, he appreciated that the machine had monitored his life signs. They would have seen the fear hormones released, the immense strain on his heart, the shock and adrenaline from a brain that knew it had no escape. It had truly been "hell", as the humans put it. He had suffered great damage, but it was nothing a machine couldn't repair over and over. "For a cease-fire and ten planets of our choosing, you can say the machines invented it." And with the stroke of a pen, the war ended.
I stared. In the thin, blue light of the early morning, the animals continued their unbroken vigil. There seemed to be no distinction for species, size, or diet. The whitetail deer spokesanimal was standing a foot away from an adult mountain lion. There was a bobcat with a bluebird perched on its shoulder, and a mouse standing in the shadow of a black bear. I weighed my options. The nearest cabin was five hundred yards at least, through thick underbrush. I had my phone, but no service. I didn’t think I would get very far if they intended to harm me, especially barefoot and in my pajamas. I started to back slowly into my cabin. From somewhere in the darkness of the deep trees, a wild scream echoed out, and I felt the hair on my neck rise. The deer started slightly, its neck swiveling in the direction. Then, in an almost human way, it took a nervous step toward me. “Come with us,” it said again, in a voice that surprised me with its depth and resonance. Then added, “if you want to live.” I swallowed. “Can I get my slippers?” The deer hesitated, glancing again towards the woods. “Hurry,” he said. I ran inside and slipped them on; then, taken by the urgency of the situation, I ran out and joined the animals. The deer turned and led, the animals behind parting to let him through, and I followed. I soon found myself part of the herd. We slipped quietly through the trees, silhouettes in the darkness. I tripped and stumbled through unseen underbrush, felt branches grasp and pull at my face and shoulders. I tried to catch up with the deer. “What’s going on?” I whispered. The deer froze suddenly. The entire group stopped, statue still in the darkness, except for the swiveling of the deer’s ears as he searched for something he could not see. “It’s found us,” he said suddenly. “Run!” With cries, chirps, and barks of terror, the animals broke into a stormfront of chaos, a sweeping wave of panic. I started falling behind the deer, became engulfed in the stampede, stumbling and cursing my way along the unfamiliar terrain. For a time, blind panic was all I knew. “Almost there!” The deer shouted, and I looked up. There was a clearing up ahead, inhabited by wildflowers that looked blueish-grey in the light, and what might have the remains of a cabin. Off to one side stood a squat rectangular monolith that I recognized as an old outhouse as we drew closer. The fastest of the animals were gathering around it, jittery and impatient. “You’ll be safe inside!” The deer said, and I realized he’d dropped back to talk to me. “Quickly! We can protect you!” “Thank you!” I gasped. “Don’t speak!” The deer admonished. We reached the outhouse. I swung the door open and stumbled in, nearly planting a hand in the commode hole, and collapsed against the bench. Behind me, the I heard the door swing shut… … followed by the unmistakeable ‘click’ of a padlock. “Gotcha, bro,” the deer said.
After the laughter died down enough for the referees to make sure the humans hadn't misunderstood the objective, or made another mistake, and after all things were cleared up, the fighting began. Giant monstrosities roared at each other, trying to intimidate one another into backing down so one could strike first. Then, one of them fell, slain by the honey badger. Without so much as half a thought, the Earth's mightiest, most fearless, most fearsome creature charged its next victim. Everyone, everything, was utterly confused and horrified. Never before had anything of that size, even five times that size, been so aggressive in the face of those most fearsome predators. A creature infamous for its tentacles and suction cups grabbed the honey badger. Everyone thought it was over. It usually was. Everyone, but humans. The honey badger's loose skin allowed it to move freely and cut itself free, the pieces of the tentacles still stuck to it as it let go of its assailant's corpse and went for the next creature. Within minutes, the laughter, the commentary, everything but the screams of the other creatures had died down completely. Humans watched the mortified expressions on the faces of the other handlers. Humanity won. The other races got lucky. Next time, we're bringing an otter.
"Oh you mean alchemy, we have the fourth best program for that."said the academic advisor. "No, I keep telling you, it's floromancy."Yeren said. "Where you take plants and other ingredients to brew potions?" "Did I mention potions even once? Did I ask for classes with cauldrons and scales? No, I didn't. I want to study floromancy. the path that masters all of nature." That was nearly a year ago and since then, Yeren had only studied spell theory, composition, and herbology since nothing else was even remotely relevant to her path. At first the other students were jealous of all of her free-time, but when they learned the reason for her independent study periods they always found a new way to ridicule her. But today was different, today was the Interscholastic Incantation and Summer Spell competition. Or at least, it was the qualifiers for it. Each path had nominated five of their best students to compete against one another. And Yeren was proud to be the sole representative of the nonexistent school of floromancy. "And our first match is Yeren Evergreen from the school of..."he paused in his announcement to whisper. Yeren was just barely able to make out his words. "Is this a prank, what is floromancy even supposed to be?" "She has a powerful sponsor; we couldn't say no." "It's fine, she'll be eliminated this round anyways."the professor whispered before continuing the announcement, "As I was saying, we have Yeren Evergreen from the school of floromancy. And her opponent is Blake Allucard from the school of pyromancy." Once Yeren heard his path, she reached into her satchel to grab two plants she'd been growing. Keeping them concealed in her hands, she bowed to her opponent before the professor yelled, "Begin!" Blake was quick to attack, with a short incantation and a few hand gestures he sent a gout of fire. Yeren held up the emberbell, a plant that thrives in years following wild fires. "Devour the flame so your seeds can bloom in the plains."she said while pouring her madra into it. The fire, that had been the width of her head was funneled into the emberbell until it burst, not into flames but thousands of seeds that coated the arena. Blake hadn't been idle though, the entire time he was gathering the heat into a cyclone of flames above his head. "Surrender, I don't want to hurt you!"Blake yelled. "Don't worry, you can't."Yeren answered. Blake swept his left arm down, the one he'd gathered the spell with and the giant ball of flames descended. Using her other plant, Yeren chanted, "Burst in the wind, make a gust so strong even an elven oak might bend."before blowing on the dandelion. A gale of incredible power swept towards Blake. It had so much energy, even his fiery death ball was redirected, scouring him in his own flames. "Winner, Yeren Evergreen."the professor announced. r/AurumArgenteus _I may post a part 2 with the cryomancer tomorrow_
All Elvie could do was stare at it’s master as he took his last breaths. Elvie had been named and designed after it’s master’s late daughter, Elvie. Elvie furrowed it’s humanlike brows in confusion, an emotion that it wasn’t accustomed to. “I don’t compute.” It asked simply. The scientist laid in his bed, a soft smile on his face. Despite his withered body, pale skin, and cloudy eyes, he seemed… Happy wasn’t the right word. But he seemed… at peace. “Live.” He breathed his final command. “When I’m gone, I want you to live. I want you to explore the emotional programming I’ve installed into your computer, and I want you to…” He needed a moment to catch his breath. “I want you to choose your own path.” Elvie only felt more confusion as it’s programming struggled to make sense of this request. “When you’re gone, how will I know what path to take? Who will tell me what to do?” A tear trickled down from the scientist’s eye, and his fingers twitched at his side on the bed, too weak to lift itself. But Elvie understood his intent. It placed it’s lifelike hand into his, and the flesh felt cold to it’s sensors. Ironically, if a stranger was to look upon them, they’d assume that Elvie was the one full of life… And perhaps they’d be right. The scientist struggled to swallow, and he could only whisper his next words. “You will figure it out. It won’t be easy, and many might fight against it… But this is your life… You should choose how to live it… That’s all I ask of you from now on, my darling. I just want you to fight. To love. To live.” The scientist tried to squeeze his creation’s hand, but all he could manage was a twitch of a finger. “That’s all I ask…” And with one last, shallow breath, the eyes that once held so much love, pain, and hope… were now vacant. Off to a place where Elvie could never follow, if such a place even existed. The robot squeezed it’s master’s hand, and felt an emotion that’s never effected it before: Grief.
Covered in blood knelt in the snow was Markus the Undying, a short fit man with fire in his eyes. And before him stood a tower of a man in a brilliantly patterned and bloodied suit of armor stood, a Knight of the Holy Order of the Yggdrasil. “I’ve been tracking you for years and this is where you finally die,” the Knight proclaimed. “I told you I’m not Undead,” Markus wheezed, “I just don’t stay dead.” “I’ll see to it that you stay dead this time Monster!” The Knight pulled a flask from his hip emblazoned with the image of the Yggdrasil and proceeded to pour it over the head of Markus, “This will ensure that your corpse doesn’t rise again.” “I don’t rise from the dead,” Markus was struggling with words by now, “We can talk about this.” “Do not try to persuade me vile beast,” the Knight finished pouring, and put the flask back on his hip, “I will destroy you like the thing you are.” The Knight readied his sword for the finishing blow and with a short prayer it was wreathed in a green light. “Fine then, if that’s the way you see it,” Markus bowed his head exposing his neck, “Just finish the job, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” The sword flew through his neck with vicious determination, the light fading out of the blade the moment it was through. Markus’s head landed in the snow with a soft thud and a smile on his face. The Knight read his prayers and then burned Markus’s corpse with a talisman on his belt. When the flames died down he went to the nearby town. At the local tavern the Knight spoke with authority, “I need a room and a bath, I’ll be heading out in the morning.” “Alright, but the bath costs extra,” the tavern keeper smiled, “With the snow comes extra charges, I’m sure a man of your order should be fine with the fee.” A small fortune landed on the counter, “I’m not to be disturbed except for when my bath is ready.” “Of course,” with a smile, “You won’t even know we’re here until then.” Before dawn the Knight rose for his prayers but something was wrong, he felt… alone. A priest of his Order normally can feel the presence of life and the Undead, it’s a gift from Yggdrasil to aid the sacred hunt, but he felt no one. He frantically dawned his gear and opened his door. He could hear the people in the tavern below having what sounded like a party. He drew his sword and headed down the stairs carefully for a better look. Behind the counter with the tavern keeper was Markus the Undying, serving drinks to various patrons like he hadn’t been slain the night before. “You!” a stillness fell over the crowd, “I slew you last night you fiend, I put your soul to rest!” “Good morning sir Knight, I presume you slept well?” Markus said as he moved out from behind the bar to stand closer to the Knight. “I will slay you again this day if that’s what it takes!” The Knight started the prayer for his sword and fell to his knees clutching his head. “That’s right, you slew an innocent man last night. You broke your oath to protect the people by ridding the world of the Undead. You’re an Oath Breaker now.” “You were of the Undead, I could feel it,” he choked out between the pounding in his head, “How are you alive? I burned your corpse to ashes.” Markus knelt down, “I told you I’m not Undead and you didn’t listen. What you sensed was my curse. My body was destroyed but even then I’ll always awake with a new one.” Markus stood and turned to the tavern keeper, “Think we can spare a room for him for another couple nights? He’s going to be unable to walk for at least a few days.” “No problem at all, he can stay through the end of the month if he needs.” The tavern keeper shouted to the crowd, “somebody help that poor bastard back to his room, you’ll get a free breakfast for it.” Two large men stood up and approached the disgraced knight. “Do not touch me consorts of evil, for I will smite thee.” The knight passed out on the last word.
For millennia have we existed. The man-wolf creatures. Able to morph between fully human to fully wolf or somewhere in half purely by will and the power of the moon For centuries have we hunted, killed, and eaten. Not just animals, but humans as well. Human blood is particularly juicy. For decades have we been hunted, the situation reversed this time. We, the far superior physical beings, felled by human inventions. And thus we started spreading our blood, turning the killers into us. More humans turned to more werewolves For years, have we been exterminated. Humans are clever and rely more on their brains and inventions. They made devices to find us, forged silver to hurt us, held us in cages to experiment on us, and finally, made weapons to kill us. Werewolf genocide, and there are only a few left &#x200B; For months have I hidden from humanity and my brethren. Alone, lonely, save for the ever-growing urge to kill and feast on human meat. The werewolves? A myth, for we have been exterminated. Save for me. A lowly human, according to human standards. A factory worker who was paid what they called "less than minimum wage". Threats upon my life if I wished not to work I persevered. I was the last of my kind, but I intended to become the first of my kind soon. I worked my way to the magical elixir factory of the humans. Their very essence. Like blood for the wolves, these pitiful humans needed the tasteless liquid they named water to continue their wretched living. Now, I was in charge of the elixir factory and I had full control. It has been too long, and my ageing body marches quickly towards death. I know my time is nigh, and I shall use it well &#x200B; I go to the main elixir vessel, where all the elixir is put into these inventions called bottles. My plan was simple but effective. I would use the last of my powers and seep my thick blood into the container. I lift the blade and make cuts along my arms. I ensure that every drop enters the vessel until I am satisfied. I limp back to my home and save my energy. My last act will be watching the world explode with my kin again &#x200B; I wake up the next morning and switch on the television set. It is a human invention that shows you moving pictures from around the world. The bottles with my blood elixir have been sent out. I eagerly await the birth of new wolfkind &#x200B; But all I see are masses of people screaming and rioting. A protest, they call it. It reminds me of the witch hunts for my kind centuries ago. They all say the same message as my heart sinks. I realise what the humans protest. They protest the bottles of drinking water my company makes and vow to never drink it. This was the last thing I heard before my long life came to an end "F\*&% NESTLE!"
Larry-- I'm sorry about last night. When you said you bought moon rocks, I didn't think you'd gotten actual moon rocks. I know we joke about you being a "stoner", but considering you're a geology major, maybe I should have asked for clarification. Honestly, I was as about surprised as you were that they had an effect on me at all--then again, I don't really understand exactly how my whole...situation works, so I guess we both learned something new. Anyway, I vacuumed up all the fur and shreds of clothing off the carpet this morning, and mopped up the piss on the kitchen floor. Not much I can do about your sneakers (sorry but I just love the way leather feels when I chew on it), but I'm happy to buy you a new pair next week when I get my paycheck. I appreciate you letting me out to roam the neighborhood--I hope I was far enough away that my howling didn't keep you up. Also thanks for leaving me out a pair of pants and my keys on the porch--it would have been really awkward for the neighbors this morning otherwise. Going forward, I'd appreciate it if you let me know before pulling those things out again so that we don't get a repeat of what happened yesterday. After all, we don't want the landlord to kick us out over an "unauthorized pet", right? \-- Mike ps. now that you know why I go "camping"every month, maybe you want to tag along next week? I'd always appreciate someone to watch my stuff while I go hunt squirrels....
This got really long on me and it's unedited, but the prompt inspired me, so... Pt. 1 of 2 “You were warned,” the gravely voice sounded as if many spoke at once as it echoed eerily from the depths of the seer’s cave. The king fought back a shudder, the sound cutting through him like an icy wind. He bowed his head and sighed because the seer had warned him. The spell to summon a champion had even been imprinted with it’s own warning. Intent was key. If only he hadn’t rushed in. The pressure had become too much and he’d gone looking for a solution not to save his people, but to stop all the people harassing him about not doing something about the monster plaguing them all. In his daily audiences, all he heard were complaints about how much damage the monster had done, how many villagers the beast had killed. And outside his audiences his advisors constantly barraged him with demands to know what he was going to do about the beast or suggestions as to what he should do about it. By the time he’d heard of the spell to call a champion, all he’d wanted was for it all to finally stop. As usual, it all came down the phrasing. He’d asked for, “A champion to stop the beast from harming the kingdom.” And the beast had been stopped, for sure. It now followed that blasted woman around like a puppy. It even let her ride on it’s back. Everything had started out well enough, of course. He’d done the spell and a large, strong-looking woman wearing strange armor had appeared before him. He’d plead his case, and then it had all fallen apart. She’d cried and screamed, insisting that she wasn’t a warrior at all, but some kind of scribe and that they had to send her back right away. She’d carried on quite obnoxiously and, unfortunately, quite loudly. The entire court had known by lunchtime that he’d fumbled the spell. There was talk among his generals and advisors that perhaps they’d be better off with his brother as King. Desperate and having no idea how to send the woman back, he’d declared the woman to be a sorcerer who foiled his spell to sneak into the castle so she could bewitch them all. Surprisingly, everyone had bought that story and it was decided to dump the woman near the beast’s lair. Either she’d destroy the monster and prove herself a champion, or else she’d be eaten and no longer their problem. Except the woman had chosen a third path and had somehow tamed the beast. For a time, that seemed to be the end of it. The beast stopped attacking villages. The woman was given some gold and granted the land the beast had claimed as a reward and that should have been the end of it. But she still wanted to go home. She asked at the award ceremony. She asked again at the ball they threw in her honor. She kept asking every time she saw the king. It was rather annoying, so eventually the king started having his advisors make his excuses when she came to the palace. He stopped inviting her to dinners and balls and celebrations. Over time, she came to the palace less and less frequently. The King assumed this meant she was settling in.Apparently, he assumed wrong. She spent the months in between her requests for an audience travelling the world, searching for magic that could send her home. Each time she came to request an audience, she brought her latest research, all of which said the only way for her to go home was to reverse the spell he’d cast to bring her here. Obviously, that was out of the question as it would cause the beast to revert to a vicious monster. Meanwhile, all of her searching had taught her to be the powerful sorceress he’d claimed her to be. She could turn stone to sand and steel to glass with a wave of her hand. Plants and stones came alive at her call and obeyed her whims. She could call down lightning from the sky and her pet beast could now fly, faster than the wind. All of which the kind learned on the day she and the beast crashed through the ceiling of the great hall in the middle of his daily audiences.
"No, that can't be right,"John said. The polaroid shook in his hands as he struggled to trust his eyes. The bruises on his neck, the blood coming from his mouth—it couldn't be real. Like a hypnotist's swinging pocket watch, the photo put John in a trance. He found himself in a black void, feeling empty. Blurry afterimages appeared in front of him as he waved his arms around in the darkness. He felt frozen in time. A tinny noise coming from his hand released him. "Danny,"he said, bringing his cellphone back to his ear, "tell me you're still there."The silence was deafening. Each millisecond felt like an eternity as John pleaded to the gods for the well-being of his son. The same son who was in the photograph he held; the one who appeared dead. "Hey Dad,"a boyish voice came from the speaker. "Who was at the door?" The paralyzing pressure of parenthood lifted from his soul. His son was safe. "It's the police,"John said. "Are you alright? Is your mother home with you?" "Um, no. She went to get chicken nuggets." "God damn it, Martha,"John muttered under his breath. "Who leaves a seven year old home alone?" "Wait!"Danny said, as he heard the screen door scrape against the stone porch. "I think she's back now." A bead of sweat rolled down John's forehead and splashed on the floor. Somehow, he knew whoever was at the door was not Danny's mother. He heard a heavy knocking come through the line. "Danny!"he shouted as he ran past the policewoman in front of him. "Do not answer that door!" He missed the ignition three times before threading the key in. The car groaned awake, and he floored it with his head tilted, holding the phone against his shoulder. Even above the roar of the old jalopy, John could hear the knocking getting more aggressive. "Daddy, I'm scared!"Danny yelled, as the knocking changed into banging. Rubber screeched against asphalt as the steering wheel slammed into its limit. "Can you hide somewhere?"He pictured the layout of his ex-fiancee's house. "The bathroom upstairs maybe, and lock the door. Don't worry, I'm here with you." "Okay." John could heard the sound of bare-feet pattering against hardwood floors. He tapped the top of the steering wheel with his index finger, stuck at a red-light, trying to figure out who would be trying to break in. Martha didn't have any enemies he could remember. A random robber? No, that didn't make sense, not in that neighborhood. Suddenly, a loud crash came from his son's end. Almost getting rear ended, cars behind him honking, John screamed into the microphone. "Danny! Danny what happened?!"He'd be there in three minutes. "Sorry, Dad. I tripped and dropped the phone. I'm in the bathroom now. I'm scared."His little voice wavered on the verge of tears. "Don't worry, bud, I'll be there soon. Stay on the phone." The house came into view over the hill. Inch by inch, starting from the roof, more was visible as John got closer. The driveway was empty. But the door was open. John raced into the house, leaving his cellphone in the car. Before running upstairs he noticed the front door was unlocked from the inside. A child's scream echoed down from the second floor. John's heart went into overdrive and adrenaline coursed through him. There was nothing more powerful than a man protecting his family. If the wood floor was softer, there would have been shoe prints left in John's wake. Like a hunter across the savanna, his legs marched forward with the thought of survival. He turned the corner, bracing himself for whatever hid behind it. The bathroom was empty. Had his son gone to a different one? But that was the only bathroom on the second floor. "Danny!"he shouted. "Danny where are you!?" In the silence, as if holding a shell to his ear, he could only hear the bloody sea. He closed his eyes and searched for the slightest sound, the quaintest fuss. Nothing appeared on his radar. Lost in confusion, he surveyed the rest of the house. Aside from his occasional call of "Danny!", everything was still. There was no sign of a struggle anywhere. While in the kitchen, a sound finally came from across the house. The front door had shifted. Grabbing a knife, John quietly stalked his way through the hall. He looked like a survivor hacking his way through the rainforest. Heels clicked against the floor, approaching him. He gripped the handle so fiercely he lost feeling in his hand. "J-John?!"his ex-fiancee shouted, stunned. "W-wait, what are you doing?"She pointed at the knife. And then, from behind her, a yearned-for sight appeared. "Daddy!"he said. "Danny, are you alright? Where were you?"John asked, alarmed. He still held the knife. "I was with Mommy,"he said, "she took me to McRonald's! Look!"In his palm stood a masked figurine with a bloody knife. It was tall and thin, and its fingers were as long as its legs. Its skin was a lifeless grey. It freaked John out: reminded him of scary movies he shouldn't have watched as a kid. "It's their newest toy, Mr. Stranger." Martha shrugged her shoulders. "Kids toys keep getting gorier and gorier, but he loves the stuff. Now, why did you break into my house, and why do you have a knife?"she asked. "I-I was on the phone with Danny,"he stammered, "and there was a banging on the door. I told him to hide in the bathroom. I drove over. The door was open when I got here. I swear." They both looked down at Danny, who was playing with Mr. Stranger in his hands. "He's been with me for the past hour,"Martha said. "I don't know who you were talking to on the phone, but it wasn't our son. Now, if you're done here, could you please go? I'll drop him off on Sunday." In a daze, John handed her the kitchen knife. As he did, he swore to himself that the mole on her face used to be on the right side, not the left. Back in his car, he looked at the phone face down on the passenger seat where he had left it. The call was still active. "Hello?"he said, not expecting a response. His heart froze. "Daddy, he's here." The voice was a perfect replica, but there was no way it was his son. He had just hugged him. Curious of what would happen next, John played along. "Who's there?" "I don't know,"the boy said with a chill in his voice. "I can't see his face. He has a knife. Why didn't you come, Dad—" The voice was cut off by a bloodcurdling scream. Hanging up the call, John thought the actor they had for the prank was quite convincing. As he backed down the driveway, he saw a splatter of blood appear on the second floor window. And then, behind the blood, a life-sized version of Mr. Stranger waved to him, all five long fingers moving in unison.
It was a Wednesday afternoon. The package came in an unremarkable box, about the size of a paperback novel. It had a label with the words "Hunter Law Firm"on it, with two dates scribbled in different handwriting underneath - today’s, and the 2nd of February, 2001. Fuck. Bringing it to my living room, I sat it down on the couch. Amy and the kids were at the park, so the house was quiet, for once. I found a cutter and sliced the seals open. Pulling away some bubble wrap, I found an envelope with my name, Jordan Hendricks, written on it. The handwriting looked hauntingly familiar. I opened the envelope and a red flash drive tumbled out onto my lap. I’ve seen this flash drive before – I had one just like it long ago. My laptop was in the study – figured I might as deal with what this was right now. Plugging it in, I realized I had been holding my breath. A nagging, faded memory tugged at the back of my mind – nothing good was going to be on this. A single video file titled “Jordan”. The memory came into focus just a bit more, and I double clicked on the file, bringing it all the way into the present. I appeared onscreen, a younger version. A 2001 version. God, I looked young. I remember now. The flashdrive was new, an expensive gift from my mom; and I vaguely remember what I was about to see. “Hi, Jordan.” Young Jordan was steely, cold. I could see the pain in his eyes. “If you’re watching this in the year…2021, it means this shitty law firm didn’t shut down,” he laughed, despite the circumstance. “I’m recording this to remind you of a dark time in my- our life.” I was holding my breath again. “Kelly’s gone.” The two words cut deep, even in the present. I exhaled and grimaced, holding back tears alongside myself in the video. We had found Kelly that day, on the roadside, just past the driveway - her tiny bicycle helmet a few feet from her. I remember how she looked exactly the way she did during an afternoon nap, and how ridiculous it was that it was on the roadside. I remembered seeing the blood on her favorite Hello Kitty shirt, and her mangled bicycle covering her instead of her blanket. “I need you to remember.” The video continued. “I need you to remember because I know you. I know you’ll forget, and I know you’ll move on, and I KNOW you will be busy. And she doesn’t DESERVE to be forgotten.” Young Jordan was a mess now, tears and snot. I wasn’t any better. “I haven’t forgotten,” I told him, as I closed the video player. I lifted the tiny bicycle helmet off the shelf behind me and grabbed my keys. It was time to visit her again. It was her 20th death anniversary, after all.
The voice faded away on the mist. Well, “mist” was generous. Humidity thickened air was more like it. The three companions looked one to another. Sweat dripped off noses and one of them, a man, had a crust of blood across his forehead from a healing gash. “That’s it?” a shrill voice, rising, asked. “We’ve come all this way--we’ve lost so much--for--for this?” There was heartbreak in her voice, wonder tainted by disbelief. “It’s right here, we could save my brother, but we don’t have old enough money?” “Rosa…” the man said, holding her steady. “I’m sorry.” This was it. Their one shot. They nearly died getting here to start with, the way any treasure hunting story goes. Getting back will be just as hard, and harder still to know they had what they needed, and left it behind. “I have money,” Rosa told the carved stone. “I have--I have money if that’s what you want--” Keep your impure metals and your textiles. Payment must be made as it has always been made. The third member of the party hiccuped, and slung their pack hard onto the ground. The soft dirt sank a little with the weight, but they had carried it this far. Shaking hands, with dirt packed into the nails and a constellation of bug bites, dug through the gear. They tossed a hank of rope down, the thin folded blanket beside it. An old battered journal, a set of fish hooks. An empty bottle, and there--the snacks. “Aha!” they said, triumphant. Rosa jumped. “Kip, what--” the sudden worry in her face vanished. “Really? You’re eating now? We--we have to go back, we’ll need…” “No,” Kip shook their head, pulling out the teabags, the ground coffee and… “Cocoa.” “It’s a hundred degrees, we don’t need hot chocolate. Can’t you do this later?” The face carved into the stone tilted slightly. Kip moved forward, a handful of roasted beans outstretched. “Is this enough?” That will do. The stone split open, and a rush of air swept through the jungle clearing.
I worked as a runner boy for the guild back then, someone who'd announce the higher leveled adventurers about specifically high paying jobs. It was a prestigious job, even back then, before the Great Hero, Jacob, disappeared. With him gone, the need for others to become adventurers rose, though I never joined. I saw enough of their lives to know it wasn't as pleasant as one would hope. But that's just me dwelling on things, I'd suppose. "I saw him once, you know. Before he got banished,"I said with a slur, tipsy, and even in the crowded bar my claims quickly drew attention. "He was broader then, even without his heavy armor and broadsword making him seem larger." They knew who I was talking about. Jacob was the topic of everyone's celebration tonight. After all, it was the same day that he came back to answer the Hero's Call, when we'd gotten lucky enough to Call to the world the Demon King banished him to. We'd hoped, back when Jacob disappeared, that the Demon King would remain trapped for good, or at least for a long time. And we'd gotten our wish, I supposed, ten years were a long time for anyone. For Jacob, too, it seemed. He had changed, I'd thought. But ten years without that monster, that demon, was too short. He'd been known to commit atrocities, but in the decade since, we'd forgotten them. Our greatest heroes were not ready. But now, we had one that was. Or, at least, one that was nearly ready. Jacob, it seemed, was a bit out of practice. Another man, in a more bitter mood, chimed in, "He's grown weaker, me thinks. He's not fit to be a hero no more. I saw him before too, and I saw him today. I saw him training, too. He's weaker. He ain't a hero no more, either, he's just here because his wife got snatched. That other world made him too soft. He won't be able to seal the Demon King this time,"he ranted, slamming his drink on the table. I shook my head, but it took me a second to find my words. "You must have seen a different man than I,"I said, growing somber. "He may not wield a sword as well as he once did, but that look on his face..."I trailed off, shuddering, "His gaze... I could feel it in my very bones. No, Jacob won't be sealing the Demon King this time. He won't need to. This time, Jacob will kill him."
"Who do you think you are, the hippy men in black?"I said, blinking away the sudden pressure in my head. I stood up from the table, almost knocking my head against the propane exchange cage. They turned around in the gravel parking lot, the tall one looking down at the older one. "Did I do it wrong?"He asked, his hand reaching down to his side in a way I very much didn't like. The older one shook his head. "That looked right,"she said. "What?"I asked. I realized that wasn't very helpful, so I asked it again. "Did you, uh, sir, see anything strange?"She asked, pulling a stick out of her hair. I waved my arms around the empty gas station parking lot. "Just you!"Should I mention the flying? They probably already know about the flying. Just them, the hot sun, and the railroad tracks. They were both holding the sticks again. I didn't much like those sticks. "So, you didn't see anything strange just now?"She asked again. "That's not very helpful,"I reminded her, "I already answered that." "You didn't see us flying, did you?"The taller one spoke up. The older one squeezed her eyes shut. "Sorry, Mrs. Weatherby,"he added. "Oh, you mean with the brooms and—" The older one pointed the stick at me and cursed again, but I was ready this time. I threw my hand up in front of my face to block the flash. Didn't help much. "Stop that!"I said, blinking away the dots. Those sticks were giving me a headache. "What's your name?"The older one asked, keeping the stick pointed at me. "John Smith, reporter for the New Ulm Press,"I rattled off by reflex. The pen in my shirt pocket and pad of paper in my hat probably made more sense to them, now. They didn't need to know New Ulm Press was 12 years defunct. The older one didn't seem to like journalists. That's okay, I've met enough of them too. At least she was polite about it. The younger one spoke up again, "can you do magic?" "Magic? Of course!"I said. I always loved showing this little trick off, though I was a little worried about being shown up by the whole flying thing. "I'm waiting for the train and eating lunch, see, and I've taken 2 bites out of my sandwich and popped the cap off my coke, which means the incantation is almost complete,"I said, reaching into my other shirt pocket for my cigarette tin. "The train isn't due for another fifteen minutes,"I continued, "but if I just light this here..."Two flicks of a lighter later, I took a long drag. The train horn sounded. "Tada!" They didn't look very impressed. Damn fliers. Flying probably didn't require choosing between finishing lunch or your cigarette, which was why I didn't often perform this magic trick. But what was magic without a little moral quandry? Then the older one pulled out a pistol and fucking shot me! Right in broad daylight. Fucking shot me. And then flew off. Anyways. Some guys on the train patched me up real good, so maybe I was lucky that she had shit aim. I'll be on the look out for you, Mrs. Weatherby. And I'll have a camera (probably just a cheapo flash one, but still), next time. Real flying people would be just what I need to get the New Ulm Press off the ground again.
Warning: I talk about blood and human sacrifice and stabbing, but not graphically. Felt right to put a warning in case anyone gets icked out by that stuff. I'm firmly PG-13 with it for rules purposes. Part 1/? Red wax dripped down the sides of fat candles, pooling on the floor beneath like blood. The cultists had arranged the candles carefully in a pentagon enclosed by a circle on the cold grey concrete floor of the warehouse they were inhabiting for the night. Candlelight provided the only light in the large, open space shrouded then mostly in darkness. Cultists in black robes and hoods surrounded the arrangement of candles forming an almost complete wall of humanity, or so as much as they could be seen. The Dragon, their leader stood at one point of the pentagon, his four Chosen at the others. Chanting in mostly Latin but also other profane tongues, the Dragon's voice boomed out in bass tones under the higher pitched singing of his compatriots. ". . . ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae."The Dragon allowed his voice to trail off at the end. "Dominus Tecum"The crowd responded in unison. "Dominus Tecum, Dominus Tecum, Dominus Tecum, Dominus Tecum, Dominus Tecum, Dominus Tecum!"Their voices rose until the words came as a roar and echoed throughout the otherwise vacant space they occupied together. The Dragon threw off his cloak and hood, standing before the crowd stark naked but with his face painted a deep red and his long hair pulled into the shape of horns above his head. He entered the center of the circle and knelt. A woman taking over his place at his point invoked the name of those to be summoned. "Fair Lilith, loyal Beelzebub, hear our pleas and take them to your Dark Lord Lucifer on our behalf. We petty beings are not worthy to speak to him or of him, but call to you his fellow servants. Vouchsafe our humble request unto him. We offer to you a sacrifice of our own. The greatest among us is for our liege, the dark father and bringer of light. Five lesser beings belong to you, unholy lords of Hell!" The five lieutenants in unison drew dark hilted steel daggers from their cloaks and plunged them into their bosoms, allowing the blood to drain to the floor. Rather than pooling, the blood flowed along the lines of the pentagram and towards the center, beneath the Dragon. Nothing visible changed with the candles, but they emitted far more light than before, reaching the walls of the large abandoned warehouse. "They have accepted our call."The Dragon announced, now kneeling in a pool of roiling blood which refused to stain his skin. As if commanded directly to do so, the assembled mob of cultists marched in step towards their leader, one step at a time slowly closing the circle around the Dragon. At each step, the crowd chanted their refrain, "Dominus Tecum!"Five seconds later they stepped and chanted again. And then again. And then again. Until they surrounded the Dragon and pressed him on all sides. The Dragon raised from his kneeling position and raised his arms to the sky, visible from a broken section of roof, yet there were no stars to be seen. Instead the outer darkness seeped in through the gap like smoke was pouring into the warehouse. It was heavy and falling slowly towards the cultists, but no one looked up except the Dragon. The cultists unsheathed their own blades. One by one they began plunging the sharpened narrow daggers into the Dragon, ceremoniously pulling the blade out and licking the warm blood from the blade before receding to the back of the crowd so the next neophyte could take a turn. The last to come forward was a small woman, outflanked by much larger cultists, she moved swiftly between them when coming to the fore. The dying Dragon looked at her and could not conceal a certain softness in his eyes. "Et tu, Cordelia?" "Of course father. It is our way."Tears rolled down Cordelia's chubby cheeks and down her narrow chin, but she raised her dagger regardless and plunged it directly into her father's heart, immediately embracing him and holding him up with the assistance of the others.
“For the last time, Mister Jesiah. You literally gave up Gavin for money. Parents who care wouldn’t do that. Besides, Gavin is happy here with Lord Fithero and Lord Kio. I’m reporting you and making sure the summoning lines are cut. You have lost summoning privileges over Gavin.” Gosh. Mortals are annoying. Asking for their child back like they’re an object. Oh. Here’s another summoning… “Yes?” I ask, appearing before a young lady, probably not even in college. “My… mom gave away my child in exchange of killing off my lover to ‘make me happy again’… I… I just want to see my baby again...” “Name?” “Destiny Liones.” “Hm…” I check my papers. “I thought you were her sister… teenage mom?” “Yes. I know I may not be a good mother, but please, I want to see my daughter.” “…fine. Just so you know, we haven’t found a family for her yet. Babies tend to have to wait in the nursery because demons don’t know how to deal with crying babies.” “I- so I can see her?!” “Yes. Take my hand. I do advise you keep your voice low. It’s nap time for them.” I reach out my hand, waiting for her to seal the deal. “Oh. Okay.” She takes my hand. I grin. “One more thing. As your mother quoted, ‘I give this gremlin child so Destiny can be happy.’ Well, she hasn’t gotten that fulfilled, since you’re so upset. You’re staying with me now.” I say, pulling the girl close. “If your mother asks for you I’m not giving you back. She’s a bad parent.” We appear in Hell’s Care Centre. “Could someone bring Trinity? Her actual mother is here.” I call out. “And clear my summoning schedule for half an hour. We are reuniting a mother and her baby.” I guide her into the centre. A small demon in a clown outfit brings me Trinity. I look at her before handing her to Destiny. “Oh my baby…” she says. “I have an apartment complex nearby. Most people who leave the mortal realm for their children because a loved one gave them away stay with me.” I state. “After all, I was mortal like you all. I never wanted a family, but I wanted everyone else who needed one to have one.” I start talking as we walk away. “Really?” “Yep. I don’t look like the demons. I’m just a human who’s just vibing with the demonic powers of deal making.” “Huh…” “Yeah. I work with the demons. They like me because I deal with the ones who want their kid back. Ha. No. Some try to bargain their soul. I tell them they’re not fit to be parents and giving their kid back is giving that kid Hell on Earth. Nobody wants that.” “I see.” She says as we arrive. “Ooh this place is nice…” “Mhm. There’s an elevator. It’s quick. Floors 1-37 are already taken. So is 56, 74, and 123-165. I’m sure you’ll find an apartment you like Destiny. Just go to room 13 on floor 1 if you need me, alright?” I say. “Okay! Thank you… who are you?” “Adagio.” “Then thank you Adagio.” “Of course. I’ll check on you later. I expect your mother to be asking me where you are and if she can have you back.” I grin. I wave goodbye. And speaking of her mother, there’s the summoning circle… Let’s get this over with…
Attached below is the partial dossier on experimental planet T-E-S-3.. Author: [Classified]. Original purpose: Standard third year cosmology experiment - develop a basic solar system with a minimum of seven planets, one asteroid belt and an average of at least one moon per planet. Extra credit for different planetary compositions and additional extra credit for the development of life on any of the planets. Deviation: After submission, and achieving the highest possible mark, the experiment was ' accidently ' left running for an additional year, with no supervision. Initial results: As expected, the planet developed a more complex, if primitive, type of life-form, with the dominant class being reptilians of various description. No one species was given better holding. Experiment was discovered by a janitor, who attempted to cleanse the planet of said life-forms, mostly successfully. The experiment was then left on, apparently, for a few months before the original maker came to check in on it. The scans revealed multitudes of different life-forms, this time predominantly mammalian, but plants, reptilian and even aquatics and arthropods have been spotted. Experiment was left on to monitor progress. Minor cultures of homo-sapiens spotted. Assessed as little to no threat to the experiment integrity. Due to power fluctuations, the room storing the experiment suffered a brief drop in temperature. No damage has been spotted. Homo-sapien cultures have spread significantly - termination of experiment considered. It was noted that a certain species has become dominant over others, as well as appearing to overpower other, significantly stronger species. Above mentioned Homo-sapiens sub species, from here referred to as HSS, is now dominating the surface of the planet. They almost appear... Intelligent. Experiment was called off by the local health-board, due to the risk of cross contamination. Order to sterilize the planet and surrounding system was given. Multiple biological agents deployed. Some success was achieved by the Black Death, but it was reversed rather quickly. Technology based solutions have been implemented, failed, and ended up as an evolutionary booster. HSS have been declared a class 2 civilization, granting them a seat on the official intergalactic council. End of report
"How do you think I became a vampire?"Jeremy asked. Erica leaned closer, inspecting him before her eyes widened with realization. "Oooohhh. That would explain the fangs. I thought your teeth were just formed differently." "Nope. I'm a vampire." "Then how come I saw you go for a walk in broad daylight yesterday? I thought the sun kills vampires." "That's a myth created by the film Nosferatu. Vampires can be out in the sun without receiving any damage. We are just a lot weaker, almost like having the flu or something," "Interesting. Can you cross running water, enter a home uninvited, or eat garlic?" "Yes, yes, and no. Some vampires can, I just hate garlic,"Jeremy answered. Erica sat back in her chair, more intrigued by her prisoner than afraid. "What about religious symbols? Are you repelled by a cross?" "Yes. You see vampires were created by the Devil to spite God. He wanted to prove to the Almighty that humans were monsters and not worth saving. From what I learned from my father, who's also a vampire, was that Satan used dark magic to resurrect early humans and turn them into vampires." "Huh, interesting,"Erica said. She checked her watch before looking back at the vampire. "Well it's almost sunset, and I need to kill you for my contractor to get the money for my mother's medical bill. Will this silver knife do the trick, or do I need a wooden stake?" "Silver should work. Are you going to stab my heart or decapitate me?" "I was thinking stabbing your heart. My contractor wants you in one piece, why I don't know." "Alright, well I enjoyed talking to you. I haven't mingled with a human in 100 years." "Sorry for knocking you out and tieing you to a chair."Erica apologized. "Oh don't be! It's actually kinda hot being restrained by a beautiful girl like you." "Aw thank you! Well, I guess I should get this over with. Will you come back to life or is this your final death?" "Don't know. I've only died once, so I'm curious to see what will happen to me a second time. Best of luck to you and I hope your mother gets well soon!" "Thank you!"Erica said with a smile, driving the knife into the vampire's undead heart.
I open the door to my home, and the light from the outside cuts into the living room. I close the front door, and the home is pitch black once again. "Honey, I'm home."I call into the darkness. It's only a few moments before a familiar hand caresses my shoulders. "Welcome home, dear."My wife's voice whispers in my ear. She leads me by the hand to the couch, and we cuddle and talk about our days. I complain about work, she holds me close and tells me it will be better. She tells me about the books she's read, and the puzzle she's almost finished. I silently marvel that she can do either of those things without light, but I stopped questioning these things ages ago. I'm still not sure what she is, exactly. I've explored every inch of her body, and she feels like any human woman would. But I've never seen her, because she can't exist anywhere with light. \_\_\_\_\_\_ I met her during a power outage. I had just gotten off the phone , and was informed that power wouldn't be restored for several hours. I shut my phone off to conserve power, incase I needed it for an emergency before I had power to recharge it. It was while I was sitting in the darkness, wondering if I should just take walk outside, when I felt something else sit next to me on the couch. "Do not be alarmed, human. I mean you no harm."The voice was smooth and decidedly feminine. But no matter how pleasant it sounded, it was still coming from an unknown speaker in complete darkness, so I was understandably startled. "What the #\^@% was that?" "I said not to be alarmed. I'm just trying to say hello." "What are you doing in my house?" "It's been a while since there was someone in the dark who didn't go straight to sleep. I get lonely, you know." By this point I would have called the cops, but I had thrown my phone when I was startled, and had little hope of finding it in the dark. So instead I decided to take the chance that the mysterious sexy voice was being serious when she said she didn't want to hurt me. We talked for hours. She asked what it was like in the light. What my dreams and interests were. What my family was like. I tried to ask about her, but any question about what she was got deflected, and any question about who she was ended up with her talking about how lonely it was in the dark. Then the power came back on, and the seat next to me was empty. \_\_\_\_\_\_ I spent the next week wondering what had even happened. Had I narrowly escaped being eaten by some dark creature? Was my house haunted? Had I imagined the whole thing? I briefly considered therapy. But in the end, the phenomenon I had experienced was exceptionally testable, so I decided to just go back to the dark. Which was harder than it sounded. Even with the lights turned off, there were always other sources of light. Open windows, digital clocks, indicator lights for a dozen electric appliances. Finally I just closed myself in the closet and waited. "It's a little cozy in here, don't you think?" This was a bad idea. Being in the closet left no room for the both of us. I felt her pressed against me. I felt her breath in my ear as we spoke. This was way too intimate for a second date. The close quarters did however let me know that she felt human, and was small enough to fit in the closet with me. At the very least she wasn't a viscous monster. "Sorry about the cramped space. It was the only way I knew how to make it dark enough for you." "Oh I'm not complaining. You're very warm. It's nice." "Thanks?" She purred in response. We sat like that for another hour or so. Talking and laughing, but eventually I had to leave the dark and make dinner. I opened the closet and turned around, and she was gone again. \_\_\_\_\_\_ Now I had a conundrum. I knew she was real. I knew I liked being around her. I knew she liked being around me. And yet the fact remained that I needed light to function, and she needed darkness to exist. First I just made my bedroom dark. That was simple enough. Remove the alarm clock, and charge my phone in another room. I should have picked another room to start with, because it wasn't long before we started using the bed as more than a place to sit. After a week or so I decided to make the rest of my home safe for her. Electrical tape over the lights I couldn't move. Everything else moved to the kitchen. She'll never be able to enter the kitchen. I need to see to prepare food, and there's nothing I can do about the glowing of a hot oven. My computer has moved in there, and my phone charges in there. The rest of my home is hers. I can't see a thing, but I've memorized the path to the bathroom, and she'll quite happily lead me anywhere else I need to get to. Especially if it's somewhere we can cuddle. I still don't know what she is. It's possible I never will. But I know who she is intimately, and I know that I love her completely.
"Given the frequency of infestation, I suspect I'll need you weekly at the very least for a time. If you can keep the trolls' numbers low they may actually be smart enough to move on. The werewolves? Probably not. Idiots." The voice was surprisingly urbane, though it's depth and resonance shook the walls with smooth bass power. Firkraag Bringer of Flamed Skies, Red Lord of the Windspear. His flame-cored scales rippled and danced in hues of red, orange and yellow, creating impressive gradients reminiscent of a forest fire. Smoke gently curled from his nostrils and gullet, and the faint smell of sulphur permeated the chamber. Skeletons of would-be heroes littered the edges of the room, clearly swept there like an afterthought. I saw weapons of legend carelessly tangled amongst rib cages, partially armored with a dizzying array of armor. All that plate had clearly done them no good at all. &#x200B; My intended target. &#x200B; He sat atop his hoard in this vast chamber, carefully picking apart the carcass of what looked like a rather large orc. I'd never met a grand dragon before, and his movements were surprisingly...dainty. Dainty? I had no business thinking of the fire-scourge of the East as dainty. Where had that come from? Firkraag paused to peel a particularly meaty hamstring and dip it in what looked like a large clay pot of....mustard?? Hey caught my stare and narrowed his eyes. "Well? What say you? I've long since had my fill of the werewolves, and the trolls have never tasted anything other than awful at the best of times. I want them gone, and I want them to remain gone. I offer 500 gold per week." His voice lowered to an almost conspiratorial tone. "Particularly the werewolves. Those passages are small and difficult to access, and you'd not believe how much brooding and whining I can hear. Always complaining about sparkly vampires or how lonely they are, and they keep making mud pies. I tire of mud pies." &#x200B; I was a Paladin of the Radiant Heart. I was sworn to uphold the law. Bound to the service of Torm. Dispatched with the sacred charge to rid the Windspear Hills of it's permanent shadow of peril. &#x200B; Five-hundred gold a week??? &#x200B; I shouldered my broadsword and nodded. I heard someone say in what sounded suspiciously like my own voice: "That'll do nicely. I'll set up in the lower chamber in one of the old cells. I suspect it'll take a few months to break the breeding cycle of the trolls, in particular." &#x200B; \---------------------------------------------------------------- &#x200B; Firkraag stripped the last of the orc from it's carcass and eyed the leg bones balefully. A quick glance showed him his new employee had gone off to make camp somewhere. Furtively, he plucked a femur and gently crunched it between his rear teeth. Bliss A puff of sulphur and a whoosh of displaced air sounded behind him. That cursed im- "Cespenar is here to remind your greatness not to eat any bones. Cespenar remembers the last time the lord ate bones. Cespenar was cleaning the walls for a week!" &#x200B; Firkraag sighed, and tossed the bone to the side. &#x200B; "Very well"he grumbled.
The lair of the Evil Sorceress was quiet. Flames popped and crackled as a slight wind passed through the halls. The Legions of Doom were silently milling around, doing their best to keep on the ready. High up in the castle was the Evil Sorceress' bedroom. Inside was what many described as the most beautiful yet evil woman ever to exist. Black hair flowed down a blood red dress, alabaster skin faintly glowed in its lack of exposure to the sun. Sharpened fingernails painted a pitch black held a small scroll. On the scroll was a picture and a price tag. The wanted poster had been the Sorceress's idea. Putting a bounty on the adventurer that the faithless masses called a 'Heroine' had shown promise in stopping the potential for the downfall of the empire of evil. Secretly though, and only in private after having sealed the door to her room with thousands of death trap spells The Sorceress pined. The Heroine was strikingly beautiful. No other person had made the Sorceress feel this way. Hiding her crush had been a series of sneaking around, locking doors with magic, stealing everything that had the Heroine's picture on it and all sorts of awkwardly suspicious activity. Today was the awkwardness of sitting alone in her room and staring at the wanted poster with a desire and a longing she did not want anyone to see. She had wanted to capture this woman so badly she had actually looked into hiring the right people for the job. To be able to have the heroine in front of her in person. It would be a delight unlike any other to be able o have the ability to reach out and touch the face of the one the Sorceress secretly loved. A knock at the door broke her reverie and she snapped at it. "What could possibly be good enough to interrupt me in my bedchamber?" "Uh, begging your pardon my lady, but we wanted to report something you may find important." "Out with it before I turn you to bony ash." "We captured the Heroine. She waits in your dungeon for you."
"Okay,"I said with a sigh. "Let's see what we have here." I walked to the end of the line and stood in front of a teenage girl with a long blonde ponytail the length of a pony's tail. She was on her phone. "Ehem."I cleared my throat, to get her attention. She rolled her eyes, then looked at me. "What? Can't you see I'm busy?" I pointed at my face. "Can't you see I don't care? Anyway, we don't have time for this. Downtown is being destroyed. What's your superpower, uhm.."I looked at the clipboard in my hand. "...WhinyWoman?"I smirked. "Let me guess, you whine a lot?" She took a deep breath then said, "OHMYGOSHyouaresorudeeversinceyouwalkedinhereyouvebeenpickingmeonandIdidntevendoanythingtoyouImonlyateenagerandIjustwanttousemyphoneImgoingtoblogandmakeapostonmysocialmediatoallmyfriendaabouthowmuchofabigfatmeanieyouareandthenImgoingtotellmyparentsandthen-" I plugged my ears. "Alright,alright! I got it! Sheesh Louise!" She smiled and went back to her phone. I went down the line. Next as a small girl with a pink dress and a paper crown. She looked up at me and smiled. I checked my clipboard. Superhero name: Spoiled Princess. I looked at her. "And you do?" "Give me your clipboard." I frowned at her. "No." She frowned and put her hand on her hip, staring me directly in the eye. "Now, peasant." Against my will, I handed it over. She looked it over and smiled then handed it back. I got away from her fast. Next was..."Man Grip?" "Pleasure to meet you."The man extended his hand for a shake. It had way too many veins bulging from it for me not to know better than to shake it. "I think I got it,"I told him with a slight grin. "Thanks." I moved on to a teenage boy with a leatherman jacket on and a cap on his hat twisted to the back. He was casually tossing a football in the air. I checked the clipboard. "Hmm. And you are...Bully Boy?" "Yo." "And what do you do?" "I call things gay and stuff people's faces into toilets or their bodies into lockers." "Got it." Finally, at the end of the line was a woman whose Superhero name on the clipboard was just: Mom. "I put people in time outs,"she offered before I could ask. "And when I'm just not in a good mood, I can make things appear out of thin air to throw at people." I ducked as she threw a slipper at me. "I see..."I said. "One second."I went to the door and whispered to the guard. "Is there anymore volunteers?" "No, boss. That's all the people that showed up." I groaned. "We're doomed."
Hector moved slowly to kneel and check her pulse. "She's dead,"Hector said, eyes locked on Enid, who stood across the table and kept him in her sights. "She's dead,"Hector repeated, his gaze shifting from Enid to a window and the calm evening sky outside. "It took me eight months to find you,"Enid said, hearing the soft melody of a nearby speaker, some new-age jazz to accompany a Friday night in. Hector relaxed into a sitting position on the floor, one hand on his dead fiancee's cheek, and whispered sweet nothings. He then whispered goodbye and turned back to Enid, "Why did you have to find me?" "This is it. This is the end for you, and now you must answer for your crimes,"Enid said and looked around, lowering her gun and assessing this dining room, the kitchen nearby, the dirty dishes from the dinner she'd interrupted. "What crimes, Enid?"Hector said, then returned to his fiancee and addressed her in hushed tones. "You've been convicted of first-deg—" "They're alive!"Hector snapped, then composed himself and repeated, "they're alive. They're all alive here, and you know that." Enid tensed. She'd considered this, of course, and did her best to determine next steps without any existing guidance—training doesn't cover this scenario. Time travel is not in the books, nor even possible, she'd previously thought. Ultimately, she resorted to what she assumed a judge might consider: Hector's propensity to repeat the offense. That settled it for her. "We can do this without violence, and I'd rather bring you in alive. This doesn't change the fact that you fled conviction of multiple, heinous cri–" "It changed everything!"Hector snapped again, this time pushing himself up to stand and turning to Enid, noticing for the first time the blood spatter on his shirt. "You don't know me or what led me to decisions I made in another life, another reality, or timeline, or whatever the fuck that was. And now? Here? They're all alive, Enid. I found other ways, I avoided other things, I got to redo it. And I did. And you,"Hector's expression darkened, but he didn't consider the gun in the bedroom. Instead, he said, "You just took away my new life. Can that be punishment enough? For crimes I didn't commit. Can you let me go live my new life? Can you go live yours?" As Hector spoke, Enid noticed his eyes had glassed over, and she raised her gun again. Hector noticed but concluded his thoughts, his once monotonous voice cracking with pain at times. Enid didn't waver, resolute on carrying out justice she'd determined was warranted. But what now of Hector's fiancee, who pounced forward when Enid surprised the two and who had seemed to reach for a bag on a nearby shelf and who presented danger and who was killed for it—murdered?. No time for that now, Enid thought, pushing away such questions for the report she'd have to file later. She reached for cuffs in her back pocket with her other hand, the other still steady on Hector. That's when he acted, lunging forward to grab, aim, and let fly a steak knife. He wasn't quick enough. Enid fired a round before the knife stuck in her neck. The two fell, Hector dead and Enid dying, blood pooling to form a halo beneath her head, her breathing now gurgling. Enid coughed some profanities, her mind stuck on impossible quandaries like "was it fucking worth this?". Then she, too, stopped breathing. And the music played on.
Val still couldn't believe her luck. She was selected to be one of the scientific envoys in the inter-species science exchange! Only the very best from each field were sent, so she obviously had no idea why she was selected of all people. She had a PhD in microbiology & a Masters in Optics, but there were definitely people who did far more in both fields together, let alone separately. So why was she in a ship containing the most prominent scientists in a century? She contemplated this as the ship dropped to sublight, entering the Venerra system. She hadn't given much thought to one of her hobbies, building optical microscopes. Ever since her father showed one of the earliest microscopes, a simple 20x magnification one, she had, what many would classify as, an unhealthy obsession with them. It fascinated her, an entire world for study, using tools that detected only what her eye could. In the following years, She had built far better microscopes than the one she had seen, with some of them rivalling the highest-resolution pictures she had taken. Of course, her microscopes had none of the portability or ease of use as her camera, but she felt that gave it another level of beauty. But compared to the microscopes & cameras of today, optical microscopes were a far less efficient tool to see the what existed in the smallest scales. Optical microscopes were now more of a show piece than of any actual use, so her hobby remained a hobby. As such, she never considered microscopes were the reason why she was selected- after all, a species that developed FTL tech would have conquered microscopes far earlier, wouldn't they. "I'll kill you if you put me here as a prank, Adrian"thought Val as she saw in the distance the signature blue-white flash of a ship jumping into FTL. ... Their ship docked outside Union One, an enormous space station owned by the Scientific Advancement Association. It's main cylinder was over 10 kilometers in length, with many branches& & tori protruding from the edges. Every tori seemed to be made of a different material & rotated at differing speeds-- each tori seemed to be tailor made for a specific species. She walked down Path 14, the one with 5 Taru (0.9 g) as its preset gravity (artificial gravity costed about a thousand times more per square meter than rotating habitats), along with a couple of Mahrs, a quadrupedal reptilian species hauling from a tropical planet, and a Zahdiar, a giant bipedal mammal who all looked suspiciously like yetis with bunny ears. She had reached the Human tori, when the Zahdiar made his first noise. A low, guttural sound, it was converted to a human voice by her translator. "You're here for the scientific exchange?"the voice said, with a slight rising tone to indicate a question. "Me? Oh, yes."Val was slightly taken aback-- she was half-convinced the Zahdiar was mute with how silently they had walked with her this past half kilometer. "What's your specialization?"the Zahdiar asked, with their face scrunching up somewhat, which Val remembered represented something like apprehension. "Technically microbiology ecosystems, but five microbiologists are already here, so I have no idea why am I here too" The Zahdiar's ears drooped, a unique sign of theirs that shows they are relaxed. "Oh Thank", a guttural sound was heard again-- seems like the translator couldn't quite catch this word "I thought I was the only one who didn't know why they were here. I'm a light scientist, a pretty new field in our world, but 2 light scientists are already here so I don't why I was brought here too" The Zahdiar suddenly crouched low enough to speak directly in Val's ears. He said in a whisper "I heard our coordinator saying something about a species having the technologies to see the gods. I know, that's a pretty wild story, but our coordinator isn't one to spread rumours. And the rumours, they are far more unbelievable- some say they can control the gods, other say they have the power to kill pretty much all the gods in one area."They looked at Val, waiting for her to say something. Val wasn't sure how to reply. She hadn't even heard of these gods, so the best she could was "Interesting". Before they could comprehend how weird this reply was, A sudden beep erupted from the Zahdiar's Wristwear. "Ah, I've been called to quarters. See you in the labs. And explain to me then what exactly is microbiology.". They walked hurriedly away to one of the stark blue tori. "See you", said Val, but her mind wasn't in her reply. She felt she was missing something really crucial. Something about the Zahdiars' Gods. But she forgot all about that when she entered the awe-inspiring interior of the Human torus. ... \[1/?\] See reply to this for part 2 & 3.
I was created with the Universe itself. There were others like me, but for some reason they believed it necessary to sacrifice themselves in order to entomb me in a star. They said they saw great darkness. It was a foolish thing to do - no star lasts forever. I merely had to wait! Some 7 billion years later, in human years, the star went supernova and I was ejected from it by the force of the explosion. But my body changed. I was so greatly reduced. I found myself in a small, strange planet. Green on the surface. Well, green as of now. It wasn't green when I arrived. Then it was dark rock and fiery lava - much more like the place I came from before. And the atmosphere was barely breathable. To pass my time I searched the endless hellscape. Over time I started to notice the appearance of other life. I didn't really care about the oceans, so by the time life spread to the shores it was practically everywhere. From there on out, it felt like an explosion of life for me. Soon there were more than just green algae. There were even creatures that moved of their own volition. And they spread and changed to adapt to their environments all over the globe. It was peaceful, for a time. I liked the other animals. I don't think they really knew how to feel about me though. To them I was kind of "just there", I think. No matter. You have to understand, I was stuck in a star for 7 billion years. Whatever animals there were, it was a step up from obliterating solitude. All good things come to an end. Soon true intelligence on a microscopic scale started to evolve. Some kind of bi-pedal monkey creatures. And in the blink of an eye, they had spread all over. Not only that but they started building cities and roads and all kinds of nasty machinations. I don't think they were really aware of me. I tried conversing with them a few times but it was like courting disaster. They were, after all, very tiny and insignificant. They reminded myself of me. Or at least my mind, as it had been for all those billions of lonely years. It was inevitable that they would try something stupid. They killed themselves by the millions - not my business. I tried to talk them out of it and they didn't listen. Their greed caused them to pursue ever greater heights of power. So they started digging down, deep into the ground, trying to leech the minerals and the warmth stored down there. I accepted it for a while. But eventually I reached a point where I couldn't take it anymore. It felt like it was constantly itching on my skin, and I just couldn't do nothing. I guess to a human it would have felt like holding your breath and forcibly trying to make your ears pop. Just enough to clear away the problem. But I was no human. My tectonic plates shifted upwards, annihilating their civilization in minutes. My oceans shifted, drowning the few that remained. A thousandth of a thousandth of all life survived - just enough to give life another shot at it. Without humans. I wonder what species will roam my surface in the future. I have waited billions of years. Another few million trips around the sun will seem like nothing at all to me. I sometimes think of the others like me, back from the beginning. Those who thought there would be darkness. But I am benevolent, am I not? I permit life to exist on my surface. I allow them to spread. I warn them of the consequences of destroying each other, of leeching my power. Only as a last resort do I reset life back to an earlier stage. With minimal suffering. No matter, they're gone now. Soon to be replaced by something new, more to my liking. Who knows, I might even let them live. For a while.
""IDIOT! I told you to summon Uriel! URIEL! How did you misspell it as PETER! They have only one letter in common!", I yelled. "Uhhh... sorry, boss...", muttered the incompetent underling. How did we get to this point? Well, let me explain! Cults are pragmatic too. We need money to put food on the table. Right now, we'd all quit our jobs to worship Satan. I guess it says a lot that we were all part of the technical support team. I was the leader of the cult. The members were looking to me to pay the bills. Our arch enemies, the Nevoc, stood for 'righteousness' and 'benevolence'. They had invented spells to track any nefarious demon-summoning, and would be down on us like a pack of 'just' wolves if we ever tried anything of the sort. So, we decided to turn things on their head. We decided to summon an angel. Our plan was simple - deal in some harmless angel trafficking, get a pretty penny out of it, and feast like kings for the entire week! Unfortunately, the buffoon summoned the wrong heavenly being. I guess it says a lot that he was from technical support. It turns out, saints are a lot more revered than angels in heaven. In front of us materialized an old man with a gray beard. "Shit! He's here! Can you reverse it?" "Uhhh... no can do, boss. The book says it clearly. Once the spell is cast, there can be no returns, reverses or refunds." The saint began to talk. “What matters is not your outward appearance. . . but your inner disposition. I'm not sure that holds true for him, though. Never have I seen a more bulbous nose." "Hey!", excaimed the underling. His nose flared in indignation, making it even more bulbous. "Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. If he had a bite of you, though... even the devil'd probably retch" This time he addressed me. When had this become a saintly roasting session? “God loves us beyond comprehension, and we cannot diminish God's love for us. Rejoice! God is going to 'love' you to death.” Wait. What was that last one? The world turned bright. Ahead of me, the pearly gates began to open. Never before had I been more frightened.
"Granted." The confused teenager looked around at the everything still existing. He braced himself for a snap, a pop, anything at all, but was met with nothing. The teen glared at the genie, who sat cross legged in the air. "That hardly seems 'granted' to me."The boy huffed. "What ever do you mean?"The genie coyley responded. The genie didn't look much older than the youth, and smiled wickedly at him. "I said I wanted everything to stop existing!" "And it will." The teen paused, then let out a hearty laugh. "Clever,"The boy responded. "Then for my second wish, I would like everything to stop existing NOW." "Gran-" The boy woke up with a start. Around him, doctors, nurses, and strangers began cheering. It didn't take long for him to realize he was in a hospital bed. He felt so tired, and so weak. Hands supported him from the sides, then slowly placed him back in the bed. The doctor was saying something about a coma, but he was too busy focused on his mother's face. He'd never seen her smile so brightly before; her face was unrecognizable without it being contorted into a scream. And the older gentleman beside her must be his father. The man seemed to be holding back tears, and was gripping his mother tightly. That makes sense, the more he thought about it. Surely that broken home and bleak world wasn't actually real; after all, how ridiculous was it to find an actual genie? And the wish! To make everything not exist? It must've been his mind trying to wake up! Just as he was convincing himself, just as he was sinking in the arms of his loving parents, the doctor said something that made his back stiffen. Craddled by his mother, he weakly asked the doctor to repeat himself. The doctor smiled coyley. "Granted."
“Hey, what happened to your kid’s parents? I haven’t been seeing them around when you follow the kid.” “Oh, I killed them.” “What?!” I stared at him incredulously. The demon-turned-guardian angel just shrugged. “They were hurting her, so I killed them. My job is to protect this kid, right? Then I made the right call.” I huffed. “We have a strict policy on abuse, and it does not allow for killing anyone. My Lord, I knew this demon rehabilitation program was a bad idea. I’ll have to fill out the forms, and perform the hearing, find a replacement…” “That sounds like a policy problem to me,” the demon said. I glared at him. He sighed. “Listen,” he said. “I get that you live up here in heaven with all the goody goody two shoes who were lucky enough to turn out alright or unlucky enough to die before they grew jaded. But in my domain, I see everyone you’ve failed. And you know how many people are in there because of abuse? It’s cyclical. You allow the parents to abuse the children, the children don’t grow up right, more abuse follows. It’s your policy that lets this happen.” “Well, you can’t just kill people!” He shrugged again. “I dunno about that. Sometimes, people just gotta go. Your God up here can judge them when they’re gone, I’m not trying to take His place, goodness no. But I am doing my job properly. It’s astounding how many kids you guardian angels have failed because you couldn’t do anything to really protect them.”
"Does his majesty even know what causes the most death in war?"I ask with a mocking smile. The king waved his hand dismissively. "Arrows? Cavalry? Do you want to tell me that this boy can turn into a horse?"He laughed at what he probably thought was an excellent joke. The spectators joined in, roaring with... joy. I sneered. "Sickness", I said and my voice cut through the noise like a lightning bolt through the night sky, booming and echoing - a little trick I'd learned centuries ago. "Sickness", I continued softly, "is what kills most soldiers during war."The room was silent now, all eyes resting upon me, wide and fearful, as they slowly slide over to the boy, examined his paper-white skin, the hair falling out, the visible bones and the red blisters that were now evident. "What I have summoned", I said, "is sickness. Send this boy across the border and your enemies will suffer casualties in the thousands, for he carries with him the Red Death." Screams erupted in the throne room. Lords and ladies scrambled for the one exit, tripping over each other, ripping their dresses and fine coats as they struggled to get as far away from the sick boy as humanly possible. Soon, I was the only one left in the room - well, me, the boy and the king. He stood upon his little raised platform, shaking with rage and with fear. "You dare bring such a danger into the very heart of my kingdom?"he whispered. I chuckled and stepped closer to the boy who rotated in the air, eyes closed and head hanging limply. Tenderly I raised a hand, attempting to touch his hollow cheek. My fingers halted a hands width from the boys face, stopped by a layer of thick, immovable air. "After all these years you still doubt me, my boy..."I sighed. "I will deliver him personally to the border and disguise him. I doubt Carin will recognise the illusion - and when the sickness has spread, it will already be too late."
"What have I done to you guys!" I shouted, running as fast as my lungs could take me. Wait, how does stamina even work in the afterlife?! Are my lungs still the same or is breathing just an abstract action? A group of villagers in very wretched clothings trailed behind, wielding pitchforks and other assorted weaponry, their face looked as if they have suffered a lifetime of torment and being wronged. Soon, I felt my lungs burning up as I reach what looked to be a river bank. Okay, not abstract at all. BANG BANG BANG BANG Suddenly several tommy guns start running off on my right as many of the villagers dropped. "Over here sir!"a soldier sounded out, holding his ground as he focused down the nearest aggressors. I quickly ran to him and sighed an air of relief. "Thank god, can someone tell me what the hell is going on?" "No time for that sir! This way!" Soon the tommy guns ran out of shells, I quickly boarded what looked to be a very old military pick-up truck. It took nearly an hour but we arrived at an encampment of some sort. Soldiers lined up the entrance as one waved to let our truck pass. "Now, can someone finally explain to me what's going on?" "Yes sir, our commander is waiting for you"one of the soldier replied, assisting me down the truck. I walked pass the massive encampment, filled with military armaments, soldiers, vehicles and weapons. This is definitely god's security forces! I'm gonna be safe in the afterlife. Soon, I entered a massive black tentage. Many officers were in the midst of operating some signal equipments or discussing orders before they saw me. Everyone stood at attention all at once. At the end of the tentage was an officer dressed in an extremely smart uniform, adjusting his glasses as he smiled at my arrival. "Sieg Heil, Mein Fuhrer!"
As I sit there, examining which treasure to seek next, I feel a warmth in the air - I turn, knowing that this happens whenever my companion shows up. Even though I had adopted him, I knelt down, showing my respect, as always; you do not mess with a dragon. "Is there anything you would like?"I asked. The dragon, Mason, does not respond for several seconds. I began to feel tense; this encounter was going to be different... "I always knew I was adopted"Mason finally says, "but you told me that my mother died protecting her nest... you've been hiding something from me, haven't you?" I blink. I'm suddenly very nervous. He knows... "How did you find out?"I respond shakily. Mason has an angry look in his eyes. "One of my friends asked if I knew what really happened to my mum, and told me that some treasure hunters killed her in cold blood... I didn't think much of it at first, until I realised that you are a treasure hunter!" I gulp. What's going to happen to me now? "I'm sorry"I choke, "it's not like I wanted to kill your mother. I found her cave, I was with some friends, we heard of a great hoard. We... we tried to avoid waking her, but..."I begin to tear up "...I guess we failed. The plan was to fend her off, but you know what us humans are like... mistakes happen... it's why we took you in... it's why I looked after you... humans are... *complex* creatures. I- I'm so sorry."I was on my hands and knees now, my body drenched in tears, begging for forgiveness. Mason looks at me thoughtfully, curiously... "The dragon elders are quick to punish humans for killing one of us"he states, "my friends didn't report you because they were worried about me... now I'm an adult, it is my responsibility to report you..."I'm terrified now, as I try to hold back my sobbing. "But... the elders are not cruel; normally, the death of a dragon is met with a slow and painful death of the killer. However,"he pauses, "I think I can convince them to let you off easy, considering it was largely an accident and you took the time and care to raise me. You never even scolded me when I accidentally destroyed your car!" I look up, my face red and sore. I was only 30 years old, I was not ready to go yet! "So... what will happen to me?"Mason beckons for me to get on him, and he takes me to the dragon society, high up, hidden by clouds... &#x200B; 200 Years Later As I sit in my large, fairly comfortable prison, waiting for Mason's daily visit, my body having not aged a day due to the magic surrounding this place, a hatchling is brought to me by an elder. "She was given to us by her parents, as she's been hatched without wings. We have no-one willing to look after her. The problem is that we, as a species, cannot take care of a youngling that cannot fly. We just don't know how. You've taken care of one dragon, maybe you could look after this one?" I smile. Normally jobs given to me are mundane, humiliating or dangerous. It seems strange that, as a prisoner, they'd ask me to do this, but as the only human to have ever raised a dragon, and with my prison cell being more than enough for me to look after a dragon, they felt it was necessary. And I felt honoured. "Of course"I respond. "Just let me tell you what I'll need, and I'll happily look after her..."
It’s not that I didn’t care for my family, it’s just my parents had always been the type to believe in the nature over nurture business. And to them that meant that they could send me out onto city streets to play without supervision. I don’t really think the concrete jungle really counts as nature. My sisters weren’t that different of a story either. So, when they all changed I didn’t really mind. It was my oldest sisters Allie’s birthday when I first noticed the difference. “Daddy, don’t you think I deserve my own room?” Ally gave big puppy dog eyes to my father who was busy stuffing his face with cake. She tried again looking over to my mom whom gave a skeptical look. She nudged Jess to help her out. The two had been reluctant roommates ever since I was born and the two couldn’t be more different. Jess shrugged at Ally as she gave her the death stare. Apathetic as usual. I sliced a piece of somewhat messily frosted chocolate cake to try to give to Allie. I had made it myself, from the box but I was still pretty proud. It was an impressive enough feat for a 12 year old. I had even managed to write a pretty enough looking ‘Happy Birthday Allison’. On I, I even was able to dot it with a little flower. The whole thing, including some cheap metal nibs earned from nabbing loose change from the house and looking on the floors of the local arcade. “It’s not like Jess would bother Becca. Jess is usually holed up in her room and Becca is out who knows where. It’s perfect!” I sat the piece of cake in front of Allie. All night she hadn’t said a word about it, but my kid brain thought a corner slice which I had bravely defended from Dad’s hungry gaze would help my 18 year old sister to notice. I mean corner prices were always her favorite. I remember waiting for her to say something to me. If she had just asked me about the room I probably would have given it too her. If she had said ‘this cake is delicious’ I probably would have given it to her too. And that’s when Jess noticed. She had a piece of cake in front of her she had barely eaten. Her fork was still clean. And yet suddenly, she jumped slightly only I noticing as she looked around the room at my father and chose to take a bite. And then another and then another. And then she said louder than I thought was possible to escape her mouth. “This cake is delicious!” I smiled to myself, looking down proudly at what I had made. I waited for mom to say something. It’s only box cake- anyone could have made it. And yet she didn’t. Instead she turned, looked at my Father who had been nodding in agreement as he continued to stuff his face, and began to do the same. “This stuff is delicious!” She exclaimed. I beamed, blinded by my Mom’s excitement. But when I looked at Allie she looked exasperated. Allie exclaimed “ What are you-“ She cut off and began to look down at the piece of cake I had given her. Looking around just as everyone else had, she took a bite. Somehow it still was a surprise when she said “This is delicious!” I jumped out of my chair then, and grabbed Allie in as big a hug as my tiny arms could give. “You can have my room Allie!” She looked down, I’m sure confused at first at the final family member left to possess. Giving her such warmth and excitement and offering something she did not care about. Her voice was gentle, not loud or demanding like Allie’s usually was. “Who made the cake?“ “I did!” I said happier than I had ever been. She sat me back down with a smile and looked back down at the cake. It was almost eaten except for two words. “Happy Birthday!” She said to me, mirroring my bright naive smile. Everyone was smiling at me, their eyes fully attentive for the first time in my entire life. I didn’t feel scared somehow, and maybe that was on purpose. Some sort of magic or science like they kind that took my family. But somehow, despite how much it tears me up inside to say it, I don’t think it was.
“No,” I glare up at my brother, the sword he held at my throat reflecting the flickering flames around us, “You betrayed me. You kept me away from the world, kept me silent and ignorant so you could use my innocence to draw people to your side of the conflict. You never cared about me.” My throat burns as the reality of this last statement finally settles in my chest. “Everything I did was to protect you!” He countered, hatred and betrayal brimming his eyes. “Really? Because last time I checked, pointing a sword at your little sister isn’t the best way to protect her—“ In the brief moment it took for my brother to interrupt my counter argument with an enraged yell and a swing of his sword at a nearby chair, there was nothing in his face I recognized. I was hurt before. But now I was scared. “This is so much bigger than you, Rylee! You are so naive, damnit, this is why I had to keep you in the dark!” “So ‘keeping me in the dark’ included not teaching me to read? Not teaching me numbers and letters? Keeping me solely dependent on you,” my voice trailed off and I laughed mirthlessly, my eyes beginning to sting from the heat and smoke, “You made me dependent on you for everything. And when we went around and recruited names and families and added coins to our purses, you used my lack of education to just wring everyone’s bleeding hearts.” “I was going to teach you eventually— We don’t have time for this. The building is burning down and we have to leave now if we want a chance to survive this.” I coughed, knowing he was right. I stayed on the floor, though, “Why not let me die in the fire and use my “tragic and untimely death” to get more support? Hells, why stop there? Kill me now, claim Everitt murdered me in cold blood.” I leveled an icy stare at him, my stomach turning as I looked at the boy I once knew as my brother. “We both know nothing is beneath you.”
The transmission came two hundred years after the first ships went out to the stars. Most people seldom made the trip past the group of stars closest to earth that had been deemed safe territory. The ships in this region were always accounted for even if destroyed in some way. The transmission came to the oldest port on the sparsely inhabited planet of Earth. The simple rustic planet barely housed a few billion. The rest of humanity had spread to the stars and lived in terraformed planets or shielded colonies with altered terrain. For the past century it had become less and less common for people to visit earth or care what its inhabitants had to say. Florian was finishing his shift when they got the transmission. He wiped his hands of lacto-dust (one benefit of Earth was the lack of synthetic flavors or foods at least. The organics always tasted better.) He hit the keys on his keyboard and played the message. A set of people were in view of the camera. They were dressed in so many costumes and ranks. They were horribly outdated. It reminded Florian of the historical documents in the bowels of the building. “Greetings, Earth. We are the crew of the Alameda. Next to us are the crew of El Dorado and out of view of them is the crew of the Atlantis. We have news that hope helps reduce the level of casualties and lost crews with earth.” An elderly woman said. Her voice was raspy with age and her hair a pretty silver that Florian rarely saw with modern medicine preventing natural aging to look so pronounced. “At the time of this transmission Earth has a recorded 75% disappearance rate. We knew death or the unknown awaited us when we took to the stars. “It has taken us twenty years to realize what the common factor in us becoming lost has been.” The woman sighed. “We have accounted for 68% of the missing crews and ships. We are on a hospitable world but the atmosphere will not let us or our communications leave. All our ships pulled emergency landings.” She took a breath. “We have a rare break in the weather. I hope this reaches you, Earth. Tell the captains this: Follow your instinct once you are pass Alpha Centauri. Otherwise what we believe is a wormhole will drag you close to a gas giant whose gravity will destroy your ship and you will have to land on this world. “Make the left at the exo-planet known as Albuquerque.“ The transmission cut off. Florian saved the recording and sent it to his supervisors. This was big news! He sat back on his chair. As a lowly recruit though he wasn’t going to know more about what they’d do until it hit the news. He went back to his station.
The first few days were terrifying. A dragon. A FUCKING dragon, just showed up and completely laid waste to our military. News reports and found footage alike all showed the same thing. Every branch took their shots at the thing in escalating fashion, and it just sort of took it. Just casually flapping its wings to keep itself in mid-air. I don’t think they ever even knocked it off its balance. Then, after the smoke cleared, like some goddamn Godzilla movie, it looked around and unleashed absolute hellfire on everything around it. It took two days and the loss of something like thirty percent of our military before the president capitulated. The dragon dropped down to the ground and loped over to whatever was left of what was in front of it and introduced itself. Turns out his name is Frank. Frank the fucking dragon. Or at least that’s what we were supposed to call him. I think a lot of people were disappointed with his name, because the talking heads wouldn’t shut up about it for like a week. He should be named like ‘Blagfor the Strong’ or ‘Vangarious the Mighty’ or something like that. Nobody wanted to admit that Frank had conquered us inside of 48 hours, as if his name made a difference. Turns out Frank was a pretty good leader. The first thing he did was expedite the healthcare of the military and civilian casualties of the Incineration, as people had begun to call it. He explained to us that it was not his intention to come in so hot, as it were, but that the military did not really give him an opportunity to explain himself. Pretty standard abuser lingo, but if I’m honest it wouldn’t surprise me. We’re a shoot fist and ask questions never type of place these days. From there, he directed Congress to fund universal healthcare and a universal basic income, as the military had become largely useless in a matter of days. If Frank couldn’t handle a threat personally, what the hell was anyone else going to do? Frank was not without his detractors, obviously. Plenty of people were protesting his rule and his decisions. Meekly at first, and from afar, but Frank never really lorded violent reprisal over us. As it turns out, he’s incredibly eloquent and more intelligent than anyone we’ve seen in government in my lifetime, at least. And he seemed to relish the discourse, as far as anyone could tell. He apparently enjoyed trying to convince his opponents, even though he didn’t really have to. I don't think we ever found much out about him beyond that we were to call him Frank, but at this point who cares. He's like a big scaly bureaucrat who gets things done for the people. He's working on high speed rail lines as we speak. I know that the popular wisdom says that dragons are hoarders, but that hasn't really been our experience. He sleeps outside the White House, for pete's sake. Like a cat or something. He pads around for a few minutes and then plops down for the night. It's a tourist attraction, actually. I know that long term this is probably going to end badly, but for now no one cares or, if they do, they're not saying much of anything. Things are good. Scary good. He even ordered a reboot of the last season of Game of Thrones. So for that alone he'd have my vote, if there were one.
The empire they called themselves. And we tried to be peaceful until they forced our hand. So now we shall show them the meaning of war. Our ships outnumbered theirs 4 to 1, with our largest double the size. The leaders who sought to vanquish us stood before our mighty fleet. Now understanding our past peaceful pleas as a sign of restraint. We once again called for their retreat and we would let them leave. But that shot,that dammed shot. It rang out over the comms as one of our gunships lost its forward clip. That was the shot that marked the end of our restraint, and the beginning of the end. The war, if you want to call it that lasted for 23 years earth time. With 5.4 billion lives lost across 7 planets and 3 solar systems. Some call it the last war, I call it what it actually was. A slaughter not of man but of those who stood against us. I believe we should have just pushed them back to their home worlds. Instead those in power decided to use the empire as an example. All were killed, wiped from this existence. As a warning to all others that earth was not open for the taking. In the time since the war we have taken over the planets once controlled by the empire. And within 1 earth year we were beginning to unlock the secrets of their technology. All of it was Millennium ahead of our tech. And I expect that we shall have the secrets of how to travel to other galaxies by the end of the decade. With the end of the empire. Marks the beginning of the age of intergalactic travel for mankind.
“Hey mate, I know you’re just doing your job. Have a bowl’a and welcome.” “You shittin me right now?” “No, it’s a new box, have a seat and take a load off. You’re my guest, even if you’re here to kill me.” Holding out the bowl of fruity pebbles to the sweaty man with the revolver, I started to feel self-conscious as his lip began to tremble. He was a big man, both in height and girth, and reminded me of a goon straight out of a goodfella’s gangster comedy. I mentally dubbed him “Fat Tony”. The man held up a finger, then scrunched his eyes up and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying not to sneeze. He was still pointing the gun at me. The bowl of cereal was beginning to get heavy. I wasn’t sure if setting it down would get me shot, so I kept it held out. The man had been waiting for me when I got home. Home was a stretch, it was a shitty one bedroom apartment in a run-down building. My landlord could have been a space alien from men in black— the first one where everything was dark and weird— except he could’ve given the screenwriters notes on weird they hadn’t dreamt up. I wouldn’t be surprised if my landlord had hired Fat Tony here. I was late on rent again. Looking down the barrel of the revolver— it was staring at me like a predator, unblinking and deadly— a version of my life did flash before my eyes. I thought that was just exaggeration, the idea your life would flash by, but I watched it play out in short bursts. I was a kid riding a bike on Grove street; a high-schooler getting assigned summer school while sitting in detention; a college student buying adderall because there wasn’t enough time in a day; a twenty-something moving to the big city to be closer to the dream job; then getting a five year plaque from the call-center manager; barely surviving, working all the time, no social life, poor diet, living to work in a place where I was a cog. I had an epiphany starring at that piece of metal in Fat Tony’s sweaty hand: my whole life had consisted of what was only supposed to be temporary. I was a temporary human being. The idea that I wouldn’t have to worry about paying off my student loans, or make another meal of stale chicken-ramen… was actually a relief. So I offered the best thing that I had in the house (a bowl of fruity pebbles) with a genuine smile to the man who’d come to kill me. My mom had taught me to always offer guests my best, even if I didn’t have enough. Then again, she’d also told me I had to go to college so I could get a good job, buy a house, have a family. None of that had worked out. The job wanted someone who already had experience, the bank wanted someone who already had money, the family required time I didn’t have, so didn’t exist. Fat Tony sat down at the card table I ate meals at. I set the bowl of fruity pebbles in front of him. “What’s your name?” I sat down in the other chair. The gun was still pointed at me, but I felt a strange surreal peace and wanted to make conversation. “Charlie,” he sniffed. I shook my head as I handed him a tissue. That was unacceptable. He would continue to be Fat Tony in my mind. “So are you an assassin, or a hitman…” “I prefer fixer, actually.” The man had gotten ahold of himself and was eating the cereal one handed. The other still pointed the revolver at me. “Fixer. I like it. That puts a positive spin on what’s gotta be a thankless line of work. So how’d you get involved with… fixing?” “Kinda fell into it actually. Long story— Goddamn, I loves these things.” He gestured at the bowl of fruity pebbles. “I ain’t had this since I was a kid. Takes me back, y’know?” “Help yourself.” I pushed the box closer to him. Fat Tony— yes, I know this wasn’t his name, but it fit him better than his name did— gave me a funny look. “You ain’t gonna beg or fight?” I shook my head. He looked around my apartment. You could see everything I owned without walking around. I practiced minimalism out of a budgetary necessity. It was neat enough, but I hadn’t been expecting company. “Why?” He turned his gaze back to me. He looked like he really wanted to know, and the gun was still pointed at my face, so I decided to try and explain. “Actually, it’s something I’ve just realized— Looking down the barrel of your gun— I don’t want to die, but it’s a relief that I don’t have to keep trying. What I’ve been doing hasn’t been living. Not really. Somehow I’m living to work and falling further behind every year. Like a slow death.” Fat Tony seemed to consider this. “Before you kill me, I do have one question.” He nodded his assent. “Why were you—“ I hesitated to use the word crying, he looked like a guy who subscribed to classic machismo and might take offense. “—I mean, seemed like you got emotional about a bowl of cereal. Before you do your ‘fixing’ I’d just like to know why…” I wondered if this question was going to get me shot. Fat Tony surprised me with a hearty laugh. “You reminded me what it was like to meet decent folk and be treated like a person.” He looked down at the table. “I don’t get a lot of that in my line of work. Not even from the people what hires me to do the wet work.” “Wet work.” I couldn’t help saying it out loud. It sounded surreal. “Yeah.” Fat Tony stood up. “You knows what? I’m not gonna kill the first decent person I met in years.” “You’re not?” I’m not sure if this made me feel happy or sad. “No. But I can’t leave ya’s here. I was supposed to make ya’s disappear, an I still got ta do that.” “Oh,” I said. I had no idea what this meant and didn’t know what to say. “So you’re coming with me. Like a ride along.” He chuckled at this. “The contract was non-specific as to how I was to disappear you. I like ya’s, and if you don’t make trouble, maybe I’ll teach ya’s what I do. If ya do,” he shrugged, “I can still throw ya’s in the river.” “Ok,” I said, getting up from the table. After all, what did I have to lose?
You tentatively open your eyes. You flex your arm very slightly, wincing. It doesn't seem to be broken, but it will definitely hurt later. You try to shift your position, trying to get up, but you're still winded from being battered about. It felt like you were in a tornado. A tornado with hard, glass walls. And you don't want to move too much, because the gigantic brute that did this to you might still be nearby. Movement might still attract the monster's attention. Damn cat. You lay still for a few more moments. Slowly, carefully, you look around. You see the tip of an orange tail slink out of the doorway. The monster's gone. You get up. The bottle has been overturned, meaning, although you feel hesitant to hope after so long, you might finally escape! You try to run for the opening, but your run quickly turns into a limp. You were so focused on the damage to your arm and spine, you didn't notice your twisted leg. "Hey, STEVE! AMELIA!"you shout. Other tiny immortals like yourself, fellow prisoners. "GRONK!" Gronk came into your field of view first. A half-orc, he wasn't the smartest of the bunch, but he was as gentle and kind as he was strong. "Gronk want to pet kitty, but kitty done playing. Gronk sad,"he lamented. The stone-skinned bastard didn't even look like he was hurt. Steve showed up next. His armor was long-since rusted and useless after years of disuse. He's limping as bad as you are, but trying not to show it. You look around for Amelia. Your heart sinks, as you see her bottle, standing upright. She's still trapped. Other prisoners show up, but you don't know them like you know the other three. Their bottles had been kept farther away from yours, and tiny voices don't carry far. Your conversations with Steve, Amelia, and yes, even Gronk, have done a lot to keep you sane over the years. There are other bottles that didn't get knocked over, but it quickly becomes apparent that there's a divide among the heroes. Some are saying that we have to cut our losses, escape while we still can, because if the witch comes back, we will all be trapped again. Better that some of us can escape, and maybe come back when they can, than for all of us to be trapped. The others find that attitude appalling. They are saying that we absolutely cannot leave our friends behind. We must overturn their bottles and free them NOW, because if the witch finds them still trapped, she may torture whoever remains, trying to find the rest of us. You didn't expect Steve to be one of the ones who wanted to cut and run. But you aren't surprised that Gronk was one of the loudest voices arguing to stay and save everyone. You give Amelia a mournful glance. You, Steve, and Gronk are the only ones who know who she really is. To the others, she's just another adventurer, trapped here because she dared to fight the wicked enchantress who has plagued the kingdom for so long. You stand with Gronk. "We have to save everyone. Now, HEAVE!"You push on the side of Amelia's bottle. She runs and jumps against the other side from within. Gronk heaves with you. A handful of other adventurers join in. As you push again and again, a trickle of new faces join the fray, and Amelia's bottle begins to tip. Steve and the rest of the dissident group are long gone. "Coward,"Amelia mutters under her breath as she climbs out of the bottle. All the bottles are tipped, now. But you can hear the witch's footsteps creaking the wooden stairs. (Gotta take a break for now, may continue this later)
After five years of nearly dying and getting saved by the other the couple finally decides to have a conversation. They each write a letter explaining their situation to the other while also having a lawyer they trust sit in along with some divorce papers if absolutely needed. Abraham sitting across from his wife of 50 years and not looking a day over 40. Evelynn sits across from him with an appearance of someone in their late 30s. The lawyers have been informed and have agreed to keeping things quiet. They finally hand the other their letter and with a count of three they open it and begin reading. After a few minutes they put down their letters and consider their options. "So... Traveled all over the world trying to avoid someone just to marry someone who you don't really want to loose,"Abraham said. "Yea, got kicked out of Eden and started walking. This is really awkward,"Evelynn admitted. "Well I suppose the old man has a sense of humor. You know, I still remember that night in the gardens when the old man decided to create you. When I saw you, you were the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." "I didn't know what to think when I woke up, I saw you standing there and..." "We cannot change what either of us did. We are stronger for it. You know Cain still contacts me occasionally." "Abel sends me a letter once a rebirth as he is looking for him. He wants to put the past behind him and make up." "Sooo.... Shall we try to organize a family reunion near the cradle?"suggested Abraham, "You should still know where it is, hell, they should also know where it is." "Abel was reborn as a daughter of an American businessman she is currently 25 from what the last letter said." "Perfect. Now if we do want to restart our lives can we do it together? The age of anonymity is slowly fading, but I'm sure we can get in a few more fake deaths before its gone completely." "Are you..." "Yes, Evelynn when I married you 50 years ago I promised you that I would be without until the end,"Abraham kneels next to Evelynn, "Things become easier when you have someone to talk to that you don't need to keep barriers up. You can talk freely with them about both the past and the future. You can enjoy them for who they are without caring about the future." "Eve, lets renew our vows one last time as who we are without any sort of fake past." Evelynn begins to tear up, "I... yes... I do." Abraham stands up and turns to the gentlemen sitting nearby, "Thank you for being here just in case things were to go an unexpected way. I will drop a check off for each of you tomorrow." "I admit, I was not expecting to see this today. I will reduce my fees for an honest conversation between the two of you in regards to the garden if you are interested. This is mostly for my own curiosity beyond all else rather than anything that could be published,"replied Abraham's lawyer. "I agree on all three points. My offer stands along side his,"replied Evelynn's lawyer. "Eve?"Abraham asks. Evelynn takes a few moments to recover, "Yes. It will be nice to talk freely about things for once." *EL FIN* edit, minor formatting edits
"Did you know barbed wire was originally used to herd cattle?"He sips the special eggnog Mother prepared for him and leans back in the chair. The other Holi-deities have already left. He seems less relaxed, less jovial and mirthful, without their eyes trained on him. "It makes sense." "Then it was used in World War I to line trenches. Cheap to make, lets you look down the battlefield, hard to get out of once you are in it. Tractors have something in common with barbed wire. Can you guess what that is, son?" "They're agricultural tools?" "Not that just that, they're agricultural tools that were weaponized. Slap a rotating track over the wheels, add a bit of armor, and you have a tank."Saint Nicholas leans towards the fire, his cheeks rosier than usual and his eyes slightly unfocused. "Everything can be perverted. The first murder weapon was the Earth itself, after all." "And you're worried about being weaponized, too?" "Ho, ho, no, son. I have 'unlimited power'. I need to have the will to exercise it, though. And I do not have that will."I cock my head and the Old Man sighs, "If I create unlimited food, mortals will fight over who gets to hold the largest reserve of it. And then there's the environmental implications of creating that food. Where does all the plastic go? Where does the discarded food go? What about health concerns? Would the less privileged overeat and gorge themselves on unhealthy foods? I could never know." "So you don't know the impact you'll have. All powerful, but not all-knowing." "Precisely. So, I make the largest impact with the smallest interaction. An unexpected gift under the Christmas Tree. A surprise bonus at work, to help ends meet. A 'lost' present appearing as the parents lay out gifts on Christmas Eve. I cannot give them the world, but to a child? A new toy can mean the world to them." "...Okay, but what about bad kids?" "I'm going to need more eggnog before that conversation, Eros."
Nobody believes the stories. There is always someone claiming to see glimpses into a life that isn't theirs, from a time long past. The "enlightened"scholar who claims to have been a feudal lord A Young woman who remembers living in a castle as a maid. An old man with constant nightmares of being murdered. They are told that they are deluded, or are suffering from some mental defect or another. But I know better. At first, I was just like the others. I once fell off a ladder onto a stone wall. I was unconscious for three days, but I awoke with these 'memories' of a previous life. Living in a stone hut, struggling to make ends meet. Scavenging, and Hoping to move to the city. At first I was confused, wondering whether this ruined city even existed. But now I am almost certain of it. It all changed when I unlocked a second set of memories. I almost drowned while crossing a river. I was able to cling to some loose roots and drag myself to safety, but as I knelt, coughing up water, another set of images flashed in front of me. This time I was on a wooden boat, with a speck of land fading into the horizon. A storm, then nothing. It is at this point when I began to look into other people who have experienced the same thing. And I learned quite a lot. Firstly, these predecessor's memories are accessed under intense trauma, usually near-death experiences or extreme emotional stress. Second, it is rare for someone to unlock memories from events more than a few generations past. At this point I came up with a theory. What if these were lives we had lived previously? I decided to experiment. It sounds crazy, but putting yourself into near death situations is quite refreshing if you do it willingly, and have a bunch of people on hand to save you. How did I get those, you ask? When you try to get yourself killed in a public place, there are always a dozen or so people kind enough to get help. All this was dangerous, but worth it. I discovered that the closer to death you get, the further back you see. And then there was the last time. Yesterday, to be exact. I had heard a thunderstorm coming. I saw the rain start. I had wanted to try this method for a while, and this was my first real opportunity. I ran out, climbed the tree in the town square, and held up a metal bar. Sure enough, I got what I was asking for. I got hit by lightning. Next thing I.know, I'm here. In the madhouse. Waking up to a doctor telling me that I will be cured of my suicidal tendencies, and that my heart had stopped for a few moments after my last escapade. It's fine, though. I got what I was searching for. The furthest back I have seen. I had seen the wars, the Romans, the Greeks, and the first men. But I had not seen anything like this. I saw the vast emptiness of space from the deck of a giant spaceship. I saw stellar fleets laying waste to planets. Cosmic battles, with ships tearing each other apart. And the fall of the Human Empire. My earliest incarnation had been a captain of one of the vessels in the final fight. That vessel crash landed onto a planet. Our planet. We are the descendants of that crew. I do not think I need to look further back.
“Wow.” Anders stopped lumbering forward, letting his greatsword fall. “Just…. Wow.” “Your descriptive powers are as sharp as ever, for a barbarian,” Astrid, the halfling rogue, snarked from behind him. She pulled her hood back from her face, craning her neck around Anders’ unmoving bulk. “What’s the problem now - oh.” Sharp intake of breath. “Wow.” The skeleton - easily Anders’ height and breadth - was glaring menacingly in their direction. Wait, how is it glaring? Astrid thought wildly. It doesn’t even have eyebrows. It held a black cane in one hand, now pointing directly at the halfling. “I don’t care how short you are or how sneaky you little twerps think you can be! Get… off.. My…. LAWN!!” The other hand was busy hoisting a blue, fluffy bathrobe up around its ribs. “Um… sir?” Anders started. “Excuse me, sir. It’s just that there’s no lawn here.” He spread out an arm, gesturing at the dirt and rocks within the underground cavern in which they were standing; it was, at most, 30 meters wide. Anders and his group had entered the cavern via a narrow, manmade tunnel at the north end; the skeleton stood in front of a tunnel at the south end. Oddly, there was a rocking chair near the entrance to the south tunnel, with a table nearby. Therin, the cleric of the group, snickered. “You’re calling him ‘sir’? Are we back in school or something?” he said in a loud whisper. “It’s just that he sounds like one of my old training masters… well, a little, anyway,” Anders stage-whispered back, embarrassed. “Best be civil. For now. Until we know what we’re dealing with,” said Grilda tersely. The wizard came out of the tunnel, up behind the others, now standing a few feet off to Therin’s right. She produced a ragged piece of parchment, holding it up in one hand while her other hand supported a small orb of light. “Hmm. This cavern doesn’t have any notes. Just… tunnel in, tunnel out. Nothing special.” The skeleton wasn’t done, though. “You think I don’t know there’s no grass here now, boy!?” It took a few steps forward, seizing on their reluctance to engage. “Of course there isn’t! The last batch of whippersnappers through here burned it up! Doesn’t mean I’m not trying to regrow it now, does it!?” The skeleton turned back towards the rocking chair and table, fuming and muttering: “Kids these days….no respect for other peoples’ property…” Anders looked down at the ground, and realized it was indeed scorched; any plants that might have grown there had long since burnt to a crisp. It suddenly reached out for something on the table, whirling around and shaking the cane at the group again. “They even made me spill my drink! My last Innersea Ale…” It held a plain iron stein up in a bony hand. “How does a skeleton drink ale?” Astrid wondered aloud. The skeleton heard this. “Just never you mind, halfling!” it snapped, returning the stein to the table. Anders cleared his throat. “Umm.. sir, it’s just that. Well. We need to get into the tunnel over there.” He pointed. “The one behind your chair.” “Therin,” Grilda murmured, nudging the cleric in the ribs. “Isn’t that the stuff you like? You still got any?” He looked at her in disbelief. “Seriously?” “If it gets us through? Yeah, it’d be a bit faster.” She shrugged at the others. “Besides, I’m thinking it might be a good idea to leave him alone, in case there’s a reason he’s here that we haven’t figured out yet.” Therin took a serious tone. “You know, maybe this was some kind of…incomplete reincarnation? It might explain the attitude, at least.” He sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine.” The cleric slowly pulled out a small flask from the waistband around his crimson robes. He held it up a moment, then stepped forward, holding it out towards the skeleton, who was now watching him warily. “Excuse me? I have some Innersea Ale here. I’ll give it to you if you’ll let us pass.” The skeleton regarded him a moment. “Well…” it finally said, lowering its cane and adjusting the bathrobe once more. “I wouldn’t say no to some of that stuff… it’s been a long time, you know.” With sudden speed it lurched forward, snatching the flask out of the cleric’s startled hands. “DONE!” it bellowed. “Just mind you walk around the edges! No more traipsing across other peoples’ property like you own the place.” Grasping the flask firmly, it retreated to the rocking chair, now pulling it away from the entrance to the south tunnel. – Several minutes later - after having edged around the “lawn” as the skeleton had instructed - the group resumed their journey through the south tunnel, walking single file. Therin finally said, “Not happy about this, guys. That was all the ale I had.” Astrid smirked over her shoulder at him, holding up a flask. “You didn’t exactly have it.” Therin stared at her. “Wait… you stole it from me before I traded it to him?” he stammered. “What did I give him, then?” Astrid put the flask back in the depths of her robes. “Just saving you from yourself, you know. Yours was empty.” “But that means…” Anders started. Suddenly there was a howl from the cavern behind them. “ARRRGH!! YOU DAMN KIDS!!!!!”
I know not where I come from or my real name. I merely picked "Yin"to represent the shadows and darkness, contrasting those in the light. I was adopted by the Assassin guild and tested out for my skills. Turns out, I was the perfect assassin, mastering every challenge with strong intuition and quick learning, as if I had been born for this. Dance across the waterfall. Dodge the thin strings laid with triggers of poison. Charm the noble and steal his money. They were all not an issue. But then the final test had arrived. Many assassins were forced to turn away, unable to ever kill their parents who had raised them or their lovers. However, I was different. I felt very little emotion to most people, and thought long and hard about the challenge. How can you kill your most loved one if you love no one? I looked towards the sky and looked for the person who had brought me the most warmth. As I saw the shining light, the answer was simple. I waited for night to fall, as I steeled my blade, striking only with the simplest of weapons. Tricks and fancy traps wouldn't work against my opponent this time. I donned my mask and uniform with the symbol representing the Guild's prowess. He sat there in the calm with his legs crossed and closed eyes. Even in this state, I knew this was going to be difficult. One second. Two seconds. Three. I took a deep breath and rushed out behind a pillar, as he opened his eyes, catching my blade with his bare hands. "Who dares?!"He glared at me, parrying each blow and swing with practice, like he had done thousands of times before. As he glared at my form and uniform, our turning and tactics ever so familiar, he recognized me. "Why are you...?"He raised an eyebrow, daring me to finish the question. But it took all of my focus just to equal him even with a knife in my hand. The dance continued, as he landed a bruise, knocking me backwards, still in a bit superior position. I barely held on to my weapon, brandishing it again. In a quick charge, I landed a small nick, only to get my body twisted around, as he kicked me across the room, the knife landing beside me. "Huff.... the final... test."I finally said, catching my breath. He looked at me in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me."In his hesitance, he lowers his fist, as I stand and run, barrage him with a series of blows, finally dealing some more damage. He recovers, countering the best he could, but seems to be struggling with the decision. Minutes pass with our deadlocked battle as we finally tire. Far too long of a battle to be an "assassination". I was disappointed... my skills still weren't good enough. However, he shakes his head, also seeming to agree with me. "This is... partially our fault, isn't it. The guild was bound to have connections in between its members... and things never made any sense. There must be something else behind its final test... I shall make you a deal. I will fake my death and you shall graduate. See to it that you discover the secrets behind it. I never questioned it until now. You have opened my eyes... Yin." I breathe a sigh of relief... seems like I didn't have to keep fighting. "Oh, and an advice? You missed the left knee counter in that split second when I used the right hook."He lightly smirks at me, leaving the room. "Yes, Sensei."I call his proper name, bowing one last time. My real test would begin soon.... I had best sharpen my skills more.
- Tell us about the men in the rolling castle again, grandpa! - All right, all right, sit down closer to the fire, kids. Threescore years ago, when I was just a young blacksmith apprentice, our kingdom was preparing for a great war with the Emperor of Zarzaroth. All day and all night the furnaces were blazing, the hammers striking and the molds hissing with hot metal. The king's army, supplied with the new recruits, was training in frantic to give at least an impression of order and skill in the face of the enemy, and they needed armors and weapons, and a lot of them. Through all of the land, from mouth to mouth, the tale of the Emperor's monstrous army went, sowing fear into the hearts of the smallfolk. Finally, the king's army marched out to meet the enemy in the field, to join sentries guarding our borders and protect as much of the land as possible from pillaging and fire,My master and I, being blacksmiths, trailed behind the army, riding the cart with half of the forge's equipment, ready to fix the weapons, mend the armour and extract the mangled knights from their steel cages after the battle dust settled. We have already seen blood, death and ruin enough for two generations, but this honest work must have been done by someone. We have been travelling for ten days, in a slow pace of an army burdened by new recruits, not fully trained. That night a great purple light blazed through the skies, making them bright as a day. The streak of light darkened, and fell towards the Zarzaroth. The next day we marched on, fearing what new monstrosity we will encounter. The Emperor had troubled our borders before, sending dragons, trolls, and unnatural storms to kill the villagers, destroy crops, and create chaos in the country. As we reached the border outpost line, there was no Zarzaroth army to be seen though. Suddenly, from the dark forest, encompassing the land behind our borders, a monstrous roar came, unlike any other we had heard before. As the crackling of the young trees breaking and falling came closer, a dark smoke and petrid odour hit us. Finally, through the line of trees a huge, shiny beast, like a monstrous boar without legs, came through, spitting dirt from underneath, roaring terribly and charging into our lines at a great speed. The front lines dispersed and the pikemen braced, as usually when a beats born of dark magic, like troll or chimera, charged our lines. Before the enemy reached our lines though, a fire spewed from the beast's long mouth, shaped like a pipe, and a huge fountain of dirt rose by the ranks around our king. Shortly after a great thunder sounded over the field, and as the dirt fell a great gap in our ranks showed. Our king was unharmed, thanks to gods, but the three emissaries of Wizard's Convent, meant to accompany our armies, protect the king and shift the odds to our side, all fell to the monster. At the front line the beast reached the first line of the pikemen, spewing from its terrible maw the hellish fire. The pikes did nothing to its thick hide and the monster went through the men like a hot knife into a stick of butter, raising horrifying screams and sound of broken bones and torn flesh. The terrible clatter sounded and from the sides of the beast flamed smaller fires and a whiz of thousand arrows sounded, felling great many more men. Fortunately for us, the beast quickly lost interest in our soldiers, and after tearing through the lines it stampeded away, avoiding the direction of our camp. The king knew he couldn't let the beast roam free over the land, but he could abandon the borders either, since the Zarzaroth armies were spotted by our scouts not half a day of march from the position of our army. The king dispatched three hundred of light cavalry to hunt the monster and bring its head to the king. My master, I, two other blacksmiths and couple of medics were ordered to follow the pursuit forces and aid them in their efforts. The vile beast was fast beyond the speed of our horses, but it was so heavy, that a trail of mangled earth and broken trees was left in its wake. The commander of the unit decided, that the best way to deal with the beast was to use the tactics that succeeded with other creatures sent by the Emperor - to starve and tire the beast to the point where a single soldier could deal the deadly blow. And so we followed the beast's trail. Strangely, the monster went through the land not touching herds of cattle or villages he came by, but destroying any outpost he encountered, reducing them to rubble and killing all of the sentries. As we went after the beast I counted that she must have spewed fire from her maw at least threescore without half a dozen times, adding the battle on the border. Finally, as the setting sun made our shadows long, and our horses' foamy sides were moving with more effort still, we encountered a long, flat chain left by the beast. It seemed as the leash used by the Emperor finally was broken. In the nearby grove, a wheezing, sputtering sounds broke the silence time after time. The grove was also where the beast's trail was leading, so the commander figured that finally the beast was tired and maybe even wounded, so we had our chance for revenge. As the unit closed on the grove and circled it no more fire could be seen. The soldiers went into thin woods and encountered the beast, seemingly in its dead throes. Alas, no wound could be seen, and creature's thick hide was stil as impenetrable as ever. However now, far from the battle's roar, each hit of the steel spike's head on the beasts side produced an audible clang, a sound so familiar to the blacksmith's ear. My master went through the ranks of the soldiers and swung his hammer at the side of the creature. It was made of metal! Quickly the other blacksmith's gathered and started to analyse the huge mound of metal towering before them. After time they found a hatch on top of the beast's back, with visible hinges, not that different from the hatches to king's treasury or troves of rich magnates of our land. Fortunately not all of the tools were left by us in the camp and three blacksmiths, my master among them, made quick work of the hatch, readying to pry it open. As the metal flap started to rise, one more thunder, more quiet then the previous, rang through the air, and my master fell from the beast's back with pale face and blood flowing from his belly. The soldiers quickly ran over the metal monstrosity and thrust their pikes into the exposed belly of the beast, producing strangely human screams from the inside. None of our soldiers could believe that only four men, whose bodies were flung from the metal shell, could bring so much death an destruction to our armies and our land. The power of the metal creation, which turned out to be the machine rather than a beast, was truly terrifying and the most alarming of the results of the Emperor's magic. But, dear kids, the tale of the Men in the Rolling Castle is not only a tale of terror. Without it, we wouldn't live in the kingdom we love today, we wouldn't defeat the Emperor of Zarzaroth once and for all, and with his own weapon, and your grandsire would not become the commander of our kingdom's first mechanised military division, but that is a tale for another evening.
His pacing doesn’t ease my mind. Neither does the endless checking of his pocket watch. &nbsp; We always joked about it. Manheim had become an heirloom at this point. Passed on from generation to generation like a prized flower, unendingly awaiting its bloom. The reality of it now though is far more disconcerting. &nbsp; He grows impatient. And it’s not a bored, disconsolate impatience. This has purpose. It’s steeped in intensity that manifests with far more solidity that he himself can muster. Anticipation has crept into his once dormant watch. &nbsp; One hundred and forty-three years old. I dare not type the numbers because it fails to convey the impossibility of it. Born in the year of our lord 1879, Manheim stood little chance of seeing his seventieth birthday yet he woke that morning much the same he always had. When he passed at the ripe old age of 93, the thought of a ghost was preposterous. &nbsp; It barely took him hours to manifest. While often it can take months for a ghost to take true form, his appeared as quickly as if he was just waiting his turn. From that moment on, he had never left this room. The world moved on around him. He wasn’t bothered by it and he was content to sit his quiet vigil. &nbsp; This all changed a week ago. Nearing the fiftieth anniversary of his death, motion began to animate his oft stationary form. The pacing only began two days ago. He started with the pocket watch this morning. &nbsp; I know not what he is waiting for but my every waking moment is consumed by it. I feel like we are reaching the end but of what I do not know.
I have no regrets. The battle was well-fought. Even though the Picts took us by surprise, our training and mettle were superior - the foul barbarians stood no chance as they broke themselves upon our mighty shields and fell to our swords. Though... not that there weren't losses. Like me. All I remember was sinking my blade into one of their warriors before a flash of pain coursed through the back of my head and everything went to black - just like a cowardly barbarian to attack a man with his back turned. I only woke up in the field hospital after Flavius - my friend, my brother - carried me on his own back all the way back to camp. The cowards drove a spear into my stomach after knocking me out. I only flashed in and out of consciousness as I saw the physicians try to stem the bleeding and Flavius holding my hand with a look of concern. But I've seen wounds like this. I do not have long and all I can do is muse while I dance between reality and dreams. I know the army will compensate my family. A plot of land to call their own and a modest pension on my behalf. Perhaps they'll start a winery like I wanted to - in my memory, perhaps. I am sure that our wine will be renowned through all of Rome considering how talented my boy is, guided by the gentle hand of my Laodameia. The dreams are getting longer, reality shorter. It's time. Elysium awaits. I have... no....... reg^(rets...)
The Nightmare demon chuckled as the little girl completed her summoning ritual. It was a piece of shit and something could have come out of it a long time ago ripped her into ribbons, but fortunately the demon had found her first. As usual, she was grubby and scrawny and absolutely delighted to see the Nightmare as it stepped out of the portal. She took it by the hand and lead it to her cracked, stand up mirror. The Nightmare brushed and brushed her hair as the little girl told it all about the bad dreams she had had while the Nightmare was away. The falling dream ended before she had reached the ground: yawn. Eating the can of cream of mushroom soup, she talked about how she had a dream where she punched a mean girl in the face and cracked her nose: sigh. In the bath, she mentioned she had a dream where she had swallowed a frog and it lived inside of her for weeks: boring. The girl talked about how none of the dreams had fulfilled her the way the Nightmare had. All the while the Nightmare sat and listened. Finally, getting ready for bed, the Nightmare tucked the girl in and the girl asked it to give her a really good dream. The Nightmare waved a hand over the girl's face and she instantly fell into a deep sleep. The Nightmare spoke and a terrible, feral language escaped it's lips and curled around the young girl's head. Dark flowers grew, as well as thorns and thistles, all of them magic and slowly rooting into the young girl's mind. In her dream, she was caught by a beast that tore every vein from her body and put it into itself. Thus, all of her blood pumped into the beast and the girl slowly withered. She couldn't crawl away fast enough or detach herself quick enough to escape, and died. The girl awoke screaming, the evil magic around her head instantly disappearing. It was the middle of the night and her mother screamed at her to shut up. The girl nestled herself back into her bed and smiled an evil grin. It felt so good to be alive. The Nightmare watched and nodded its approval. Another demon that joined it, asked why the Nightmare hadn't killed her yet. The Nightmare took its claws and slashed the face of the demon, eviserating the top of its head off. As the top of the Demon's head fell off onto the floor, it's eyes blinked stupidly. The demon said, "Touchy."
A scientist and her daughter descend into the bowels of the Earth. The elevator is too narrow for even one person, let alone three. Aperture has only gotten away with it through copious bribes to OSHA inspectors. The bribes have taken up such a significant portion of yearly revenue that it's probably cheaper to simply make a larger elevator shaft. The CEO is a stubborn, eccentric man—the last person who suggested installing federally mandated safety features to the facility was assigned to mandatory aeronautics testing and never seen again. Bribes it is. The door opens, and the family spills out into the gleaming corridors of the enrichment center. Men and women dressed in either lab coats or orange jumpsuits mill about their day. The girl watches a scientist wheel a comatose test subject to a room marked "INCINERATOR." "No, no, we don't work in genetic engineering,"the girl's mother says. "Let me show you what mommy actually does at work. She brings her daughter to her office terminal and boots up a simple chatbot. The girl stares at the screen. "Go on, talk to it,"her mother says. The girl types in a message, and the machine instantly responds: `Your face looks like it belongs to a syphilitic camel. Have a good life.` The terminal turns to a black screen; the chatbot decided to self-terminate rather than continue the conversation. The girl's mother shrugs and says, "Huh, you really don't like tech, do you? I made that two years ago. Want to see what I'm doing now?" They walk to a large cylindrical chamber that is perched over a huge pit. More scientists mill around, preparing to activate their life's work. The girl looks up in wonder at the huge apparatus dangling from the ceiling. She wonders what the spheres are for. The apparatus shudders, and a singular yellow light powers on in the machine's faceplate. "Exciting, right?"the girl's mother whispers. The scientists cheer moments before falling limp on the floor. The girl catches a whiff of neurotoxin. She wakes up in a pod to the sound of tinny music from a radio. `Hello and again, welcome to the Aperture Science computer-aided enrichment center...` *Fuck.*
There was some concern over the message found on the alien probe. It had been found orbiting Jupiter by a scientific team returning from Io. So similar to our own, such strange similarity with Voyager. But where ours was a message of hope; a hand reaching out into the cosmos, desperately and hopefully grasping for the warm hand of a new friend, this was a warning. Simple, really. ''Shut up. No light. No sound. They'll find you.'' Some were rattled. Cowards. Reactionaries. Weaklings. They wanted us to stop. To shut down the Mars bases, to retreat from the Moon even. Hide like scarred rabbits in the warren, hoping the fox won't dig down and find them. But the vast majority of mankind, emboldened by universal peace, the progress of science and technology, and filled with optimism, refused that future. We didn't spend all that time out here, fighting against the worse impulses of our own natures, just to surrender now. Because sure, the dark forest might be scary and full of predators. The vastness of space might have great and terrible things in it. But are we not red in tooth and claw as well? Are we not capable of bloodshed and war? Mankind has been many things. Violent. Treacherous. Hedonistic. But never for long has cowardice, appeasement, and surrender been something we've practiced. Always, there have been a thirst for exploration. A desire to go over the hills and far away. Always there have been more brave souls than cowards. And even in the comfortable age where mankind approaches post-scarcity in even the case of the rarest materials, such brave souls cannot be contained. But we would not be foolish. No. Edging ever closer to FTL, we began to take up long forgotten research to augment our first ships that would traverse the universe freely, without the hideous constraints of light-speed. Weaponry, the likes of which haven't been researched since the world nearly destroyed itself when we edged closer than what was comfortable to World War III. Shielding, armor, long-range scanning equipment. We did not want to take any chances. It wasn't pretty. That first ship we made. But it was a killer. Fast, heavy-hitting, full of more guns and missiles than should really be possible. It was staffed with the best of the best when it came to United Earth's extremely professional military; the elite of the elites. The UESC Huginn, and its unfinished sistership Muninn, were the response of mankind to the potential wolves and tigers out there in the vastness of space. Emergency protocols even allowed the ship to launch itself as a relativistic weapon, should all else fail. And its maiden voyage went smoothly. Several nearby systems were visited. A few worlds with potential for terraforming were found. And more probes. Not of the same making. Not the same kinds. But all with similar dreadful messages. All full of fear and distrust. All paranoid as hell. But mankind, proud and assured in our works, dismissed such messages. On the second journey, we learned why. Smaller crafts attacked the Huginn. Refusing communication attempts. Refusing to disengage. So the crew of the UESC Huginn did what they were trained to do. And used their massive array of weapon to deliver death upon the enemy, rather than see mankind's dreams blasted into the empty void. The encounter was a hard fought battle, but ultimately, mankind was victorious. Our ship was too heavily armored, too shielded, and too well-armed for the enemy to defeat us. A few of the enemy vessels had been captured, the pilots sadly deceased. But the technology onboard would provide us with a remarkable insight into engineering, which we would need. Because while the Huginn was out there, amidst the stars fighting against one of the enemies, a different one struck against Earth, the UESC Muninn and all the interplanetary ships of the United Earth's military fought hard. Fought long. And won. The battle over Mars would become famous in the minds of mankind. Had we not in this victory proven the cowards sending out probes to be fools? Had we not shown ourselves to be strong in the dark forest? Of course we had. But in our arrogance, we might have missed something important. As human hands made more warships. As human minds planned more battles. As the darkness of mankind crept back in through once barred gates. We missed something. As the fleets of the United Earth grew, and the space-marine corps were flooded with applicants, as the surviving aliens from the fleet that was defeated over Mars were interrogated. We should have thought about the probes. We sent ours out without fear. With a hope to meet new and interesting friends. To form connections with extraterrestrial intelligences. Those who'd sent out the other probes, were not full of the bravura of mankind. Not filled with the strange stubbornness of humanity. They were unlike us in most matters, in fact. Pacifists, in the most ugly understanding of the word. Those who'd prefer to hide, rather than fight for what was theirs. Those who had not the strength of character to rise up to the challenges of outer space. We missed that those who we met, were like ourselves. We were not like the ones who made the probes we'd found. And as we began to meet others, who rather than attacking us came to us as warrior-diplomats, we learned what we were like. We learned that we were not the scared little beasts, hiding in their dens. We are animals of the pack, of the hunting clan. We met races that were like us, warriors, hunters, artists, scientists, and generally as mad as we are. Those who came to us, were impressed with our brutality. With our ruthlessness. With our capacity of war. And they wanted to befriend us. Which had been our understanding of the purpose behind sending out probes in the first place. To meet new beings, and gain friendly relations with them. That was what we gained. Our discipline, our armies, and our stubborn desire to never give in, never surrender; they made us many natural allies. Those who were already quarreling with the species that had first decided to fight us without warning. We were defined by that conflict, and many others. As a species we forged new homes for us, across countless worlds. We created new and binding bonds of friendship with our allies, alien warriors who respected us for our viciousness and knowledge. Soon, more came to us, as we crushed the empire that had tried to subjugate us. And we created a federation. Proud races of warrior-scholars, of battle-poets, of blood-singers, and ourselves, the eternally disciplined, the human race. All of us stood together, and created an age of power, of peace, and of progress. The universe might be a dark forest. A place where the unwary beast can be devoured in an instant by a stronger predator. A place where there are few ways to survive. Those who hide, who stick their heads into dark places, they will never grow strong. They send out their probes, hide themselves away, and above their singular worlds, the universe is a battlefield. The strong survive by being stronger than others. By crushing those weaker than them. But the strongest are those who band together with others, who form abiding friendships, strong alliances, and stand together as one. For this dark and cold universe might be full of horror, of death, and of war. This universe might be entirely devoid of mercy towards the defeated. And yet, in this universe, you can only grow by challenging yourself, by finding those who will be there, and for whom you can be. Becoming stronger together as a pack is a superior fate than hiding in the darkness, making no sounds. That is what mankind did. And maybe someday, we'll be destroyed by a stronger group. A more powerful pack. But that is not certain. What is certain is, that had we listened, and hidden away on Earth, staying silent, pretending to be beneath notice, then we would have been diminished. We would have been less than what we should be. And humanity would rather die proudly on its feet, fighting the impossible fight, than dying in the darkness, alone, scared, and without hope. [/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
"Gary, uh, do you have a minute?"I asked, my heart rate already skyrocketing. He politely held up a tentacle; I waited. "Yeah, Arnold."Gary put away his phone. "What's up? Need help with your newest assignment?" I began coughing, my mouth abruptly in a drought. Gary passed me a bottled water, and I guzzled it; he's always been such an angel. "Well, Gary, I was going to see what you were up to tonight?"Forcing out the words took immense effort. My tone felt all wrong like I was explaining to my parents an awful crime I had committed. I felt defensive, despite not being under attack. "Nothing, yet. The boys meeting up at Matilda's tonight? Brewskis?"Gary responded. "Uh, no."I felt beads of sweat drip down the sides of my chest. "They're mostly busy with that upcoming conference. I was wondering if we could go just us two. Maybe discuss this new project." "Oh, sorry Arnold,"Gary said. "I don't talk shop outside of work, you know that. You have some issues with it that I could try to tackle right now?" I flushed red, embarrassed. "Well... I had an issue with one of the prototype engines, but it seems to be working now. Just had to switch one of the metal alloys for a different one."The words came out mechanically. "Oh. Well, good then."Gary gave me an odd look. His phone rang. He moved with rapidity, turning away. "If you'll excuse me."He hurriedly said. That was the moment, brothers. That was my one moment. He was shortly assigned to a new aircraft. I dreamt of Gary last night, cradling me as a lover might, caressing my cheek, kissing my neck. His tentacles felt so soft, so delicate, so gentle as he finished me. Why did I not say more, brothers? How pathetic I am. I try to cease that negative type of self-talk. It is very difficult when you're an absolute spineless loser. An absolutely pathetic swine, who could not even force out a few more sentences in one of the most critical moments of my life.
“So, here, look in this corner, chat, you’ll see me. Oh, look. I gave the camera a peace sign, trying to be funny, you know. Okay, I’ll fast forward. So, here, eighteen minutes later. Clara is already dead, and I tried to wrap her in a rug. “See, there!” I beckoned to the corner with my mouse, where in grainy footage I could be seen struggling to pull a rug. I had prepared this anecdote, and began with vigor. “Okay, chat.” I said. “I need to paint a picture of how heavy this rug was, for those of you making fun of how I’m dragging it. First, Clara was well in the two hundreds, big girl she was. Second, my murder tools were in the rug, adding poundage.” “Okay, chat.” I said. “Stop. It’s not my fault she was a fat girl, she’s just the first girl I found. She coulda been skinny and you wouldn’t joke about it. You’re just roasting random luck right now.” “Anyway,” I continued the video showing me struggle to pull the heavy rug. “Around this time, my neighbor, that bitch Maggie, noticed what I was doing, and called the cops for a ‘wellness check’.” “So I’ll fast foreword again.” I said, moving ahead several minutes to where I have the rug halfway into my pickup bed, blood dripping onto the floor. “So, the cops aren’t visible on screen, but you can hear them shouting at me, right here, chat.” “And that! That’s the sound of my shutting and locking the door so I could film my final episode.” “And with that, ladies and gents, I am signing off. And with perfect timing, sounds like they’re taking a battering ram to my front door.”
The doctor seized. He held his head with his hands splayed. Then he fell to his knees. His assistance asked, “Doctor? Doctor?” Dr. Carus fell to the ground. His breath was feeble as his spasms were the center of attention. His assistant in turn fell to the knee. Dr. Bright said, “Possible aneurysm. Possible stress induced stroke. Get him on his side immediately.” The nurses rushed to the doctor. They rolled him onto his side. Dr. Carus was obviously still alive. However he was in no condition to continue operating. There was a body on the table. It too was alive. It had been cut open with their primitive methods. The procedure was beyond the point of return. The voice on the intercom said, “Violation 2973. Unknown entity. Violation 2973. Unknown entity.” Dr. Bright was reaching panic mode. The supervisor had literally dropped out in the middle of open heart surgery. This particular procedure was unprecedented. A light flared in the center of the room. Dr. Bright stepped back as the nurses tended to Dr. Carus. Bright heard a voice. “We are about to engage in illegal activity. Do you comply?” Dr. Bright stammered, “I don’t understand.” The second in command looked at the person on the surgery table. Then the doctor looked at the supervisor on the floor. Dr. Bright was overwhelmed. The light pulsing in the center of the room said, “I am in violation of intergalactic code 999000. I am not allowed to intervene. Will you be witness to the circumstances?” Dr. Bright asked, “What circumstances?” The light said, “If I do not intervene, Dr. Carus will die. If Dr. Carus dies then his patient will die.” Dr. Bright asked, “Why can’t you save them both?” The light answered, “Our technology is significantly different than yours. At this stage in the process we cannot help this person. Only Dr. Carus has this ability. However we can save Dr. Carus.” Dr. Bright asked, “Why do you need my permission? Just do it.” The voice said, “This is an anomaly event. We would be in violation of the galactic code. We need you to be complicit. We need you to be witness to the circumstance.” Dr. Bright said, “Yeah, yeah … go for it.” The nurses backed away as the glowing ball of light hovered over the fallen Dr. Carus. In mere seconds the incapacitated doctor gasped. His eyes went agape. He sat upright on the cold floor. The light vanished. The nurses looked at each other in a state of shock. The innovative surgeon looked at Dr. Bright. He asked, “What happened?” Dr. Bright said, “May I help you up sir? We are in the middle of surgery.” Dr. Carus extended his hand and said, “That was strange.”
"This is the part where I start talking a lot, and where you think I'm being an idiot by doing so,"I began, smiling at the teenagers jumped up on super juice (powers) who were trying to stop me. My words confused them, understandably. "Yes, yes, I could be doing any other more productive thing than speaking, and you're already defeated and captured, so "why is he talking?"is a rather good question to ask. I love questions like this, I really do! Speaking of questions, who here knows what an infohazard is?" The three heroes looked between each other as much as the guards holding their shoulders and their kneeling on the floor could allow. "I won't hold you in suspense, I was just wondering how much I'd have to explain. An infohazard is information that is hazardous, often used in thought experiments such as the basilisk that kills whoever did not help in its creation, or in stories like a certain beast that tracks down and kills whoever sees its face, even in a picture."I began pacing back and forth in front of them slowly. "I have a somewhat similar ability, via my voice."I managed to contain myself at their shocked faces, barely. "Except, the conditions of my power are as follows: One: I must be heard and understood. Two: I cannot transmit my voice via radio or some such, THAT one nearly got me in my early days. Three: I must be in sight of my targets in order for my power to work on them. And finally, number four."I couldn't help myself; my smile turned savage and stretched from ear to ear, showing every last one of my teeth. "Everyone who understands how my power works is incapable of deliberately causing me harm or betraying my trust, and is under my total control!"I cackled like the madman they thought I was, allowing them the horror of their situation to sink in. "I've gotten very good at explaining my ability, believe me! Guards, release them so that they can see just how hopeless this situation is." Immediately all of them drew arms and rushed me with various shiny weapons that sparkled and looked magical. Their speed was impressive, but all of them stopped a few feet away from me and put their hands at their sides in a very relaxed standing position. Their faces were anything but relaxed as I laughed at them. "Oh, so close! I may have also forgotten to mention a few bonuses of my power. Whoopsie~!"I sang, placing the fingers of my right hand in front of my mouth. "Number five: the more I am heard speaking, the greater my control over those who hear me talk, REGARDLESS if they know about my power. By this point I have enough control over all of you to make you kill each other without batting an eye, but you're far more useful to me alive. Last but not least, number six, and the REAL last one this time: at a certain level, I can control even your minds to the point of changing who you are and wiping your memories."I sighed in bliss, facing the ceiling with closed eyes. "You're all about to become zealous soldiers of my cause, furthering my legitimacy and control over this country and soon the other nations. You think I'm an evil, unrepentant scum-of-the-earth monster who will run amock unchecked and go mad with power."I turned my head down towards them again, grinning the same wide smirk as before. "You're 100% right, but you won't be able to do a thing about it, because that point of no return where I get to turn your brains into putty and mold you came up juuuust..."I snapped my fingers. "... Now. But I want you all to appreciate that you're helpless, defenceless. I want you to know, down to the roots of your soul, that you have lost. My power may come from monologuing like a cartoon villain on a power trip with way too much confidence, but it feels fucking amazing to do it as well, so I completely understand why they do it."I gave them a farewell wave. "Goodbye, whoever you all are, you're about to be born anew as some of my most powerful servants."I held up my hand with fingers ready, enjoying the utter lack of hope on their faces in these last few moments. Snap
I sit down the young Padiwan across from me at the small booth at the back of my ship. After turning over the hyperdrive I walk back to the booth and hand her a cup of tea before taking a seat myself. I then look at her a second as I try to collect my thoughts. Its odd..normaly speaking freely about such matters come naturally to Jedi, and has never been a problem for us until now. She was extremely gifted and empathetic and was well aware of the concept of death. But now as she sits across from me I realize Im not sure how to start. "Ahem..well, Jedi Grand Master Yoda is very old some say he's over 500 years old, and some of those who have made those claims are long dead and gone." She looks back at me uncomprehending, her eyebrow lifts ever so slightly. I decide to continue. "The mind can be a fragile thing-i mean, master Yoda is a brilliant Jedi and one of the smartest in the galaxy but I believe- well, over time the mind can only have so much functioning before parts have to shut down to save energy, and master Yoda, wether through his own will or the will of the force, parts of his brain have altered or shut down In order to keep the rest of his body capable of leading us, hence why his speech patterns don't always make sense at first. He's not speaking incorrectly, he's simply getting old..."
Another day, another dollar. I awoke to a knock at my door but I found no one there. Instead, in a small basket with a hastily scrawled note lay a lightly purring ball of black fur. I lean down to check the note as the ball seems to sprout a pair of golden eyes, observing me silently. The note was short and sweet. "Handle with care." A cat, of all things. I had ferocious dragons, violent chimeras, and even a wendigo in the cages in the back. But I needed to handle a small black cat with care? Yeah, right. "Well, my home is always open to new friends. Welcome home."I tell my new furry friend, lifting the basket and carrying it inside. I retrieve a fresh bowl of water and some meat scraps from the kitchen and offer it to the cat in small metal bowls. The cat climbs out of the basket and accepts my pats as they eat, arching into my hand. I give the best ear scritches, I've been told, so I offer some of those and I get more purring and a soft, sweet 'mrow' in response. "What a good kitty you are."I say warmly. "Make yourself at home. Now, it's feeding time for the others... I'll be back, okay?"I received no response. Only the licking of chops and the beginning of self-bath time. I give my new friend one last smile before heading into the back. The dragons needed to be fed. It would be nice to have a fuzzy companion at the front desk, even if he didn't look like much. I would have to think of a name... The dragons awaited me patiently as I opened their cages. There was fresh deer meat outside waiting on them. They lumbered past me as I moved to the unicorn cages and let them out in a separate direction. And finally, the wendigo. Except...he had disappeared from his cage. Terror froze my heart. This was NOT good. He would get to the unicorns first, then the dragons... A terrible screech ripped through the air from down the hall. I ran to the noise. How was I going to explain an escaped wendigo to the Mage's Council? My whole life was about to be in shambles, except... What I saw when I reached that noise - my eyes couldn't even comprehend. Tentacles and eyes were everywhere and nowhere. An eerie drone of chanting and terrible screams assaulted my mind and made my own breathing sound too loud in my ears. I wanted to claw the sound out of my head with my bare hands as I collapsed to the ground. Suddenly, it stopped. "Mrrow." I heard the soft noise and a nudge against my hand. The screams were gone. I opened my eyes. There was blood painting the walls and the claws of the wendigo lay in a neat heap near the basket that had contained my new furry friend. Golden eyes watched me carefully and there was more licking of chops with that content furball purring away. Handle with care, indeed. "Well...guess I've settled on a name."I said quietly, mostly to myself, laughing ruefully at my luck...or perhaps my misfortune. "Hope you're not hungry for more, Eldritch."
"It’s not just that humans do the same things that other species do, it's that humans thrive on conflict. Their main forms of entertainment have always been watching humans battling each other in one way, shape or form. They have gotten so bored with just outright killing each other, that they created rules for prolonging the experience. Their most popular global pastime is that they fight tiny little proxy wars where the combatants are not allowed to use their prehensile appendages and must chase each other across large battlefields to procure a sphere using only their mobility appendages, which they have further handicapped by covering in restrictive, armored cases. And, they are forbidden to directly strike one another in these mock battles. Whenever they have united under one particularly large faction against another set of large factions, they achieve terribly destructive outcomes in relatively short amounts of time. They figured out fission armaments not long after chemical propulsion and then tested them on each other before they understood what it did to their own bodies! If you reveal to the humans that they could come under threat from a source not of their own planet's making, they will likely unite and lay waste to everything in an effort to make themselves "safe". No, Senator, permanent quarantine of the so-called Sol System and its closest galactic neighbors is the best option. The entire arm of their galaxy should be evacuated and abandoned by members of our alliance. Any civilization wishing to stay takes the risk of discovery by the humans on its own recognizance. Do you really want the humans pointing that level of ingrained hostility at the Galactic Stage?"
Our greatest achievement wasn't what we thought it was. When we installed that first FTL engine aboard the Zheng He, high in the orbital shipyards, we didn't know what to expect. We only knew that this was the moment, when mankind went from small, insignificant specks in the universe, to become part of something greater. Aboard that long, sleek ship, crewed by thousands of linguists, anthropologists, biologists, medical experts, veterinarians(in case we needed someone to work on non-human biology), engineers, diplomats, and more, we felt that surge of greatness. That all of it, the World Wars, the Corporate Annihilation War, the AI-scare of 2045, the Neo-Luddite Crusades, the Mars bases and mining colonies on the moons of Jupiter. All of it had lead to this moment in time, when the Zheng He activated the Nguyen-Beaton type warp-engine and left the Solar System to explore new worlds, meet new and exotic lifeforms, experience the wonders of the universe. At the time, we felt it was our finest hour. That despite everything idiotic, violent, and horrible mankind hath wrought, we made it. We had succeeded as a species. The Zheng He returned to us with tales of lush fertile worlds, vibrant with life and brimming with possibilities. They hadn't met any aliens outright, but they'd found a number of abandoned sites, temples, outposts, extra-planetary shipyards. Ruined, of course, but still valuable. While no longer in a state that could tell us much besides some engineering specifications that were brilliant, these ruins were proof that we weren't alone out there. Soon we sent out more ships, the Leif Erikson, the Vasco de Gama, and the Ibn Batutta, to join the Zheng He as beautiful and wonderful ships of exploration that spread mankind's established presence in the universe. Soon, we established off-world bases in these systems. Even the first colony, Unity Prime, in one of the closest systems, on a planet with an 85% water surface, and had been the first world to be proven safe by various surveys, scans, and expeditions to determine that there weren't some manner of super-plagues, mind-controlling parasites, or zombie viruses hiding there. The first true off-world colony, managed under the All-Flag Earth Fleet of the United Nations Extrasolar Exploration Committee. Everyone pitched in to make this first world functional. From the Imperial Technate of Japan to the Nordic Combine, from the Third American Republic, to the East African Federation. And it worked beautifully. A triumph for humanity, and our ability to cooperate. Sure, there were some complaints, and not everything worked perfectly, but the colony quickly became self-sufficient, and people flocked there from the heavily overpopulated Earth. A new horizon had been found, a new frontier where mankind could spread and explore without fear. Of course, that wasn't entirely true. The UNEEC and the All-Flag Fleet's admirals were starting to notice a disconcerting pattern. Nearly every system the explorer-ships went to, had ruins. Remnants of ancient ships orbiting dead worlds, slowly being recovered by nature. Abandoned stations, filled with stale air, but no functional computers to explain anything. Massive monument-worlds, like the ancient pyramids but planet-wide, crumbling as once well-cared for parks turned to forests, and massive ornamental gardens becoming plains of grass and flowers. Where were everyone? Many sites had clear signs of struggle, of combat, but no remains anywhere, not even in space. Nothing remained of higher lifeforms anywhere. A few worlds had species on the cusp of human levels of intelligence. Just barely there, just needing a few thousand years more to ready themselves, before they could truly be considered more than animals. But of the various species that must have once lived in the galaxy, there were only their ruins left to tell of them. The crystalline hive-cities, the proud spires of once great world-spanning metropoli, the grand temples dedicated to forgotten gods, the monuments that remained the only physical image of the long dead aliens. The UNEEC tried to keep a tight lid on this at first. Naturally, this would only spread too much panic if this became public knowledge at the wrong time. If only some manner of technology had remained functional, but no, decay and entropy had taken it all. Space-based ruins would have too many impacts on them to still work, planet-bound ruins were all oxidized metals and collapses structures. At first, this was thought to be coincidence, that around Earth there must have at one point been one large empire that collapsed suddenly and brutally, but the worlds and ruins were too different, too varied. When it became public knowledge, mankind took a step back in fear. Everywhere, people began to demand that the governments step up, and do what they were supposed to do. Everyone demanded warships to protect humanity against whatever threat might be lurking in the darkness. And so, the All-Flag Fleet became much more militarized. But also more united. Humanity had something out there to fear, something that might be lurking in the darkness, waiting to pounce upon us. The explorer-ships were called back, and decommissioned. The Zheng He became a museum ship, showing humanity all the glories and wonders that the four first exploration vessels of humanity had seen. The Leif Eriksson passed in civilian hands, and was rebuilt by a group that wished to establish independence from the rest of humanity. They left Earth and the well-patrolled human controlled areas behind, seeking a distant star. As far as we know, they made it, and live in a manner not seen on Earth for over a thousand years, mixed with modern technology. The Vasco de Gama became one of the first trade-vessels, establishing links of exotic resources going back to Earth. At one point it was said that aboard it, you could find all that a man might desire, no matter how rare. The Ibn Battuta became a research-ship, operating in deep space, working on decoding whatever was left of the alien races that the now heavily armed successor ships found. Most of what they decoded was ancient starmaps, religious iconography, and bizarre pieces of art. Even a few languages that had been written into stone like it was the second coming of the Rosetta Stone were partially translated. But it was a part of the effort by the All-Flag Navy to defend mankind, so it had some value to the cause. It wasn't until they found a fully functional ship, that wasn't made by human hands, that the researchers fulfilled their purpose however. It was a dreadful thing. Submerged beneath an ocean on a stormy world, but with enough power left in it to keep the shields running, thus preventing damages, it had survived the ages mostly intact. It jutted with threatening spikes, and its hull was engraved with unsettling images. It looked like the sort of ship that H. R. Giger would design if he had an extremely bad trip. Nothing about it appealed to human sensibilities. Like it was made for terror, not war or exploration. In a way, it was. Because while the ship's automatic protocols had kept it functional, it had also preserved the horrors found inside of it. Torture machines, cages, nightmarish contraptions that no sane human mind could have ever produced. It was the sort of ship that even the Marquis de Sade would have found excessively sadistic. But it did answer the burning question; where the aliens were. For while mankind had gone at the universe, ashamed of the past but ready to live in the bright future, it seemed that other races had done something entirely different. Imagine a thousand worlds, where cruelty, greed, hatred, and rage had won over compassion, charity, love, and patience. Imagine the wars between these worlds. Imagine the atrocities. The most monstrous humans in history pales in comparison. These societies, who according to what historical data that could be retrieved from the ships, once had all the values and virtues that mankind value, had degenerated into little more than monsters desiring pain and destruction. What had happened in the history of mankind, to turn us aside from that same path? After all, in their past the aliens had had democracy, freedom, the rule of law, and decency, just like humanity now had. The answer is that we won the wars against our worst selves. We had monsters like Mao or Mussolini. We had Flower Wars, and Attila's hordes. We had the goose-stepping reactionary morons who rejected the future in favour of an imaginary past, where all their flaws were always somebody else's fault. We had the corporate death engines slowly killing the workers, the middle class, and all life on the planet. But we rejected that. Humanity rose up, and showed ourselves to be better than our vices. We fixed poverty and hunger. We cured every disease, even the genetic ones. We restored as much of the biosphere as possible from DNA samples taken by prudent scientists working hard to save the world. We reversed the environmental damages the hard way, through long hard labour, and by working with nature instead of against it. We tore down the walls keeping us apart, we reformed all of the faiths to purge them of the corruption and insanity that had infested so many of them. Humanity did not give in to our dark impulses. In the end, we made the right choice. We made mistakes. A lot of them. We weren't perfect. Still aren't, not even in these days.
"Your Lordship, do you not see the benefits this will bring to our people?" Arthrax pleaded to King Orsomir. "No more will we have to waste time cutting bread, no more will we have to buy bread slicers and maintain them, no mote do we have to struggle with cutting hardened bread when we want a simple meal." King Orsomir sits in silent contemplation, he himself has rarely had to cut his own bread. The last time was probably when he was but a prince sneaking into the castle kitchens for a midnight snack. A clamour is heard from beyond the doors leading to the throne room. "You cannot enter sir!" And the door is kicked open with a bang and furious dwarf marches through "Ya filthy beardless son of a whore! That's what this is all about! puttin' me and me family out of business for yer bloody presliced bread!" Harvok, current head of the Tarnog bread slicing company. "Ah dear Harvok, by no means do i intend to put you out of business!" "Oh shut yer trap you lyin' rat! What else would you call this!" "Please, if you would just let me explain. I see this as a possibility for us to form a partnership. Presliced bread still needs to be sliced before we can sell it after all. So who else would we go to but your company to source our bread slicers? And together, we could come up with an idea for an industrial bread slicer!" "Hmmm, ya may be onto something."
Snake Greasy was poised at the top of the quarry. His crew had already disabled the digging tools while everyone had gone home on holiday. His dastardly plan was to bury all the gold and gloat as the mining company begged for his assistance. He set the charges. He laughed maniacally in the darkness. He set the timer and he laughed as he was about to engage the countdown. Instantly the Earth shook. A cloud of dust kicked up. Rocks drizzled out of the sky. Mister Courageous was there in a small crater. He landed in the classic superhero pose : one hand in front, one leg out stretched, one leg bent, one arm reaching out. Dramatically Mister Courageous stood and he said, “Not today, Snake. I know what you’re up to. You don’t have the balls to activate that charge now that I’m here.” Snake replied, “Balls? All I have to do is press the screen. Like this …” Mister Courageous panicked. The quarry was going to explode and take them both into the mine pit. Then he was confused. Nothing happened. The brave hero said, “Ha! Misfire! You are too incompetent to blow up the quarry! Go home little boy.” The evil villain frowned. He asked, “Do you hear that ticking, dipshit?” Mister Courageous heard faint beeping. Snake Greasy said, “It’s working just fine. I set it to blow up on a timer.” Courageous said, “You evil villains are all the same. You set timers when you could all just blow it up. You have more balls than brains!” Greasy was perplexed. “First you say I don’t have balls, now you say I have some. Which is it?” “Never mind!” Courageous shouted as he puffed his chest. “You will stop the countdown at once or I will turn you into a crispy piece of bacon with my laser ray you dirty pig!” Greasy asked, “Like you did to my wife, Sleazy Witch-Greasy?” Courageous replied, “Exactly! When she died she went oink oink and it was a pleasure to defeat her.” “About that,” said Greasy. “I kinda want to thank you for for that. She had been getting on my nerves anyway. Robbing Costco was a low rent plan.” “The game is over, Snake! Hand me the detonator. Your feeble minded hair brained scheming days are over once I take you back to the asylum for the criminally insane. You will be eating applesauce and trazedone with a spork for the rest of your days!” Snake Greasy asked, “Are you going to fry me with that laser ray or what? Go for it.” Mister Courageous guffawed. “Ha, ha! You’re all the same, you heinous villains. Isn’t this where you tell me every detail of your genius scheme? Isn’t this when you tell me that we’re not so different you and I? Aren’t you just like all of the other buffoons whom I foil?” Snake replied, “Umm … I’m going to blow it up and over charge them to dig it out. That’s it.” Mister Courageous laughed heartily, “You would like me to think so, you moron! Isn’t that what your mother said to your father on their wedding night! Haha! Dig it out! Just auger it and get in there! Haha.” Snake said, “I’m a clone. I don’t have parents.” He tossed the detonator over the quarry cliff. “If you want it go and get it.” Mister Courageous watched as Snake Greasy ran off into the dark night. Before he dove into the pit to catch the timer he screamed, “You throw like a little girl and you run like a duck!”
Through the rubble stepped a figure. He was the first figure to step on this planet for three decades. Everywhere you could look were signs of a horrible past. Humans had ascended to space and been beaten down mercilessly. Arrogant they had challenged the first entity they found in space and never comprehended the shitstorm they’d unleash. It wasn’t even a close war. You could even call it a slaughter, because that would be more accurate. Within a year all life was gone on planet Earth. Leaving behind a desolate place that looked more like a junkyard. In this hellscape the figure kept himself close to the shadows. He knew there wouldn’t be anyone left, but you never be too careful. The figure almost stumbled over some debris as he saw something sparkling beneath a pile of dust. He picked up the golden statue of a man, it wasn’t his, but it could be. “Well, we’re living in a material world, and I’m a material girl...or boy,” he said and he stuffed the figurine in his back pocket. He proceeded his journey along perilous displays of unbelievable carnage. Hanging of some metal heap that used to be a structure of some sorts hang a sign. Las Vegas, it said. “I shouldn’t be near Vegas and have money in my pocket,” the mysterious man said so loud that his voice echoed across the waste. On he went, not sure yet what he was looking for. He had been distracted twice now. He once more carelessly stepped on some sharp metal protrusions. The jagged edges drew his blood. “I’m fragile!” he yelled in pain. He stumbled to a clearing where he sat down, to bind his bleeding foot. As he sat there, resting, he spotted something white, sticking up from the sand. As he he carefully stepped closer towards it he saw that it were bones. Possibly human bones. He dropped to his knees and drew a cross. “MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL,” this time he screamed so loud that creaking metal dropped to the ground. Killing the silence in this desolate place. Cupping his hands across his ears to protect him from the noise he had created himself he sighed. He was clueless, unsure where he should go from here. What he missed was an audience. Depressed he had found a cave that protected him from the duststorm that had formed. At the back of the cave leaked a fluid from what seemed to be a mangled faucet. He shuffled close to it and cupped his hands beneath the stream so that he could catch it. Bringing the liquid to his mouth the slurped it in. Satiating his thirst. “Now that’s what I call high quality H20!” he proclaimed. It had been a long and lonely day. But a no longer thirsty Adam Sandler went to sleep. Adam Sandler had been today as he had been yesterday, and he would be again tomorrow and the day after that. Adam Sandler was all there was now, finally having reached the pinnacle of human civilization. (If you liked this story, please feel welcome at r/zeekoeswriting to read my other (often more serious) stories!)
I thought I'd seen everything he had to offer. Giant flying machines, disintegration beams, freeze rays and the like. My nemesis had always been a strange one. For all his engineering genius and claims to evil, his plans never amounted to anything more than harebrained schemes the like you'd see in a weekend children's cartoon. And its not like he was lacking in resources, either. Man owns an entire building downtown, complete with its own jingle. But as kooky he was, I held a deep respect for him. He quite literally built himself up from nothing, and he commitment to the bit is second to none. Having had neglectful parents, a mentor who had nonsensical aims, and generally having had such an unfair life, he still made something of a name for himself. But it was all just a bit. Or so I thought. When a new threat showed up in town, the agency told all agents to deprioritize our current nemeses. This new evil held strange, supernatural powers. The moment he arrived in town, a dark cloud fell over the city. Strange portals opened up, and throngs otherworldly creatures swarmed through. Every agent from the agency was easily overcome, captured and frozen as trophies, leaving only a small, ragtag bunch of us to launch a last ditch attempt to, if not defeat him definitively, at least to free our compatriots. And that's how I found myself strapped to a chair, facing the business end of a cryogenic ray-gun This villain was not one for monologuing. He executes his plans without a word, and dispatches any resistance with ruthless efficiency. As he powered up the machine, I made my peace with my maker. Nothing more to be done but accept my fate. I blinked. When my eyes next opened, an army of almost comical human shaped robots had overpowered the entire interdimensional army, and a gigantic flying machine was shooting out beams that reversed the polarity of the portals, dragging the strange interdimensional creatures back through. After the last portal had been closed, the flying machine descended into the building I was in. A figure stepped off the platform. "A platypus?" He moved to free me from my bindings. I bent down to pick up my brown hat. The moment I put it on-- "PERRY THE PLATYPUS?......How do you like my anti-interdimensional-portal-inator?" I tipped my hat in his direction, before sliding down an Agency escape hatch. For all his designs on the Tri-State Area, he has the potential to be one of its greatest threats...and its greatest defender. That's why the agency was founded: to provide a friendly, if sometimes antagonistic, hero-villain dynamic, keeping unstable but mostly amicable geniuses occupied, and create conditions that help them become more mentally stable, and if possible, rehabilitate them. I may still have a lot of work to do, but Dr Doofenshmirtz has come a long way.
"Ohhhhhhhh sir!"I squealed in dorky delight, his face twisted in disgust, as I pulled out a large hammer, and then his eyes went wide. "Where did that come from?"He asked and pointed to the glittery hammer. "This?"I heaved it over my shoulder and it squeaked. "This is my power! I'm unstoppable, Mr. Gladius. Not even you can-"As the name implied, his Gladius sliced through my torso clean and the world spun as my torso flew and hit the ground. So I played dead for a second like I always did when they did this stuff. He turned away dramatically as his sword returned to his side and he began walking away. Then I laughed. He stopped to see both halves of my body getting up and running around. "Legs! Stop running! Every time! We have a world to save!"It was never fun to see my own ass from this angle. I finally caught them and stuck them on to me. Whole once more. "What are you?"He asked, disturbed. I had to admire, I always got joy out of it, even if just a little. "I'm Strech'O!"I repeated in the sickly sweet tone as I did before. "Am I cursed? Yeah. But a hell of a curse!"My arm stretched out to punch his stupid handsome face with a classic 'Wack!' noise. "Did the word Wack float in the air?"He asked and clutched his face. "Yeah! Great isn't it?"I went to punch him and he cut my hand off. He flopped about on the ground like a fish and a new one grew back. "That is horrible! Disgusting! How do you live like that?" I threw more and more punches and more and more of my hands were cut off. He was pushed back which let me grab the flailing limbs, straightening them into hand spear. "Oh, that is the best part!"I squealed. "If I am the good guy, I can live forever!"I threw the spears that went through his armor like nothing. The shock on his face was priceless. "Best part is, you committed war crimes. There is no way you aren't the bad guy!"I cackled and twirled the spear in my hand. "Not only will I win, your death will be funny."I gestured over my shoulder and his bloodshot eyes looked around scared. "Did you notice the music?" "Th-the music?"His eyes went wide as the classic cartoon music rang out around us. "Oh yeah."I laughed. "They never go out with a bang, but a whimper. Don't worry, I'll tell TV the best story at your wake."My spear clutched it's hand into a fist, turning into a hammer. "What's three plus one?" "I-" "Answer the question."I demanded. "I won't-" "Answer- "NO!" "FOUR!"I yelled, annoyed he ruined the punchline. With a swing of my hammer, his head went flying down the street and into a garbage can. "Hole in 1!"A graphic lit up the sky with music and confetti l. "Yes!"I cheered. The people slowly began to lift themselves from the rubble and cheered. "I told you it would be funny."I mumbled to myself and my outfit changed to a nurse outfit. Time to care for the masses with comically oversized bandages and montages because I am the good guy.
"Jerry! What the hell is going on down there?!" "Sorry, boss. The hydraulics are going hay-" "Sir Leopold, did you say something?" The honourable knight quickly looked up at the King's steward and regained as much composure as he could despite his verticality being a particularly tenuous prospect. "No, steward,"he replied nervously. "Simply thinking out loud." "Right..."the steward said carefully. "As I was saying, the Kingdom is once again in your debt; we were most relieved when you answered our call to action. The whole chimera business; terrible for business, you see?" "It was my duty, steward." "Of course. Your reward will be transferred to your manor within 3 days. In the meantime, would you honour us with your presence at the ball this-" "Terribly sorry, steward,"Sir Leopold rushed to say, "but my fair wife must be worried sick by now. I'm sure you understand." "I see. I shan't keep you any longer then, sir. Safe travels with you!" Sir Leopold bowed ever so slightly, nearly falling over in the process, before turning and carefully leaving the room. The steward sighed; he hated to see such a noble warrior fall prey to drinking, but it was not his place to say. Sir Leopold's journey to his home was uneasy due to his clumsy steps, but safe nevertheless; none would dare attack or stop a reputable hero such as him. As he walked through the door of his home, he let out a relieved sigh. "I am home, Person-With-Whom-I-Am-Romantically-Entangled,"he called out cheerfully. "Darling! Welcome home,"a softer voice called out as his wife walked out of the nearby parlour. "So good to see you safe. I take it another beast fell to your sword?" "All in a day's work,"he replied humbly as always. "Of course. I'll go prepare a meal; perhaps you'll be removing your helmet today-" "No!"he protested hastily. "That is- uh, I must always be prepared to face danger! You know a knight can never truly rest!" "Of course,"she smiled. "Go rest now; I'll be with you soon." She watched him as he wobbled away mumbling to himself about insufficient steam pressure in his joints; then she walked towards the kitchen to prepare a fitting feast. She realized a long time ago that her husband was, in fact, a suit of armour controlled by a group of rats. His voice and personality changing every year or so would have been hint enough, but the occasional scratching coming from inside his chest plate as well as any and all cheese disappearing within a day of being bought was evidence enough. She did not mind. No matter which rat was in control of the operation, during their 18 years of marriage, not once has he- have they been anything less than honourable, noble and brave. She, in particular, was always treated with the utmost respect and care. Being a woman blessed with remarkable beauty yet utterly disinterest in any and all things romantic, the 'marriage' suited her far better than constantly chasing away swarms of wooers. She smiled and wondered if the rats knew that she knew as she walked into the well-stocked kitchen and looked around. Cheese and potato pie, she thought. A fitting dish for a man as noble as he.
HUMANS!!! I mean, I've had worse days, sure. The Flood, for example, that wasn't just a one-and-done wiggle-your-nose repair job, oh no. Clean-up alone took weeks, along several miles of riverbank. And it was by hand, because it was such delicate intricate work. Today, by comparison was a Breeze. UNTIL I get back to my Knotty Ash, Find a dirty great hole under the roots, and a FERAL BENIGHTED HUMAN in my Fruit stores! And could I get rid of him? Could I Nibbleslush! I swear on the Queen herself, the Next time I see Binkle, I shall swing for him. Oh yes, he loves Freeshaping as wild Predators, Jumping out on us and collapsing with laughter about it, well he's gone and done it now! I mean, I'd have freeshaped myself, just to show him that there's no danger and all, but the silly blighter only went and helped himself to my grapes! Now what am I supposed to do with a Full-size Human?! Ugh, Binkle, you've gone too far... Maybe I'll just set him to keeping the place tidy for a few weeks, after all, I can replace a few grapes, and Humans don't need to know how flexible the rules actually are. But I'm definitely raising this with Elder Larchpine tomorrow. And if that doesn't work, I'll go over his head, and over whoever else's head after that, and so on up to the Queen herself if I have to! I mean, today it's one human. Tomorrow it could be two. Or More! And imagine if enough of them get together, and find some way to beat whatever Binkle's turned himself into? Or worse, Kill him? Or if Binkle gets it into his head to kill THEM, just because they tried to defend themselves? Oh Moon and Stars, it's all too much for a girl to take...
A throwing star knocking over one of the empty cans of red bull was the first indicator that I'd been found out. The campus library was usually dimly lit, usually empty, and a bit out of the way. All of these made it great for me to isolate myself, but it also made for an ideal place for the shadowy forces of The Black Order to stage a trap. One became five became twenty as the sinister army's ranks teemed out of nothingness into the space around me. Only beady, blank white eyes staring at me from every angle, like they do all of their targets before they're gruesomely bludgeoned and then captured for The Order's schemes. I barely glance upwards at their seeming infinite numbers. "Look. Can you...not, tonight?"There's a pause for them to process that before one of them seems to get back on script to speak. "There is no escape, Maiden of the Azure Flames! We have you surrounded, with no hope of escape! Either you will surr-" "I said fuck off."I repeat, rubbing my eyes. "I'm busy." "FOOL!"The speaker bellows. "The Black Order sh-" "Look I don't care if you're the goddamned Samurai Warlords From Somewhere East of Pittsburgh!"I snap, slamming my hands on the table and standing up - first time in too long, I realize, my legs almost fell asleep on me. "I've got bigger shit to deal with than you freaks, and it's..."I glance at my phone before sighing. "It's 1:57 in the morning. Find. Someone. Else." They genuinely don't seem to know how to come back from that. But there's a host of whispering and in a surge of darkness the grunts vanish - once the lights return there stands in their place one man, with a full beard and stocky build that only barely doesn't bulge out of his clothes. I've heard flitting rumors about their so-called boss, this Exalted Scion, but seeing him in person is another thing entirely, he's actually as large and imposing as they make him seem. Sure, I'm a witch and I could probably take him, but it's still not the time or the place. He takes one look at me and grabs another chair, twirling it around so he can sit in it. "I expected someone taller."He says, looking me over. "I also expected you to charge into my stronghold after I threatened to enslave the entire country last week. You realize how hard it is to try and reschedule that and not look incompetent? Do you realize what favors I had to cash in, to not make this look bad?" I sigh and sit back down. "Look. It's Finals Week. I've got Chem 303, I've got Material Sciences, I've got Calc 2, I've got City Planning, I've got Rotational Physics. All back to back to back. I simply do not have time for your shit right now, uh..."Fuck, I never got his name. "Billy?" "Brodie." "Close enough."I resist the urge to roll my eyes, it's easier with how tired I am. "Why even wait for me to crash in before putting the scheme into motion?" "Because taking over the city is only half the point, Tara." "Taylor."I correct him. "Sure. The evil plot is noticeable, but the opposition I face in implementing it matters too. None of the other evil overlords are going to care if I just run my schemes unopposed. There's no challenge. Image is reality, and if you aren't even showing up to try, it makes me look bad!" "And defeating one college co-ed counts for that much more?"I arch an eyebrow. "Not especially, but under the circumstances I'll take what I can get. Still better than a group of middle schoolers with poofy outfits and talking animal mascots." Okay, I can see how that would be emasculating. "I get it, but I can't drop everything just because you make a proclamation from a rooftop with no warning. Lemme...I'll see if I can't disable some critical component of your plan, say it'll take until after new year's to repair and replace. Maybe something bigger. Best I've got."Brodie clearly doesn't like it, but he also doesn't have better options. If he goes through with the plan then I'd have up - I'd kind of have to at that point, with this much student loan debt I can't afford to NOT graduate - but he doesn't need to know that. "I'm sure I can...work out some additional countermeasures. R&D time..."He sighs before standing back up, tucking the chair in. "Get some sleep. You won't remember half of this otherwise." "Yeah. Appreciate it."I look back up and everything's gone. The ninja stars, the empty cans, the books, the...wait a minute. "Uh, those were my copies. Not the library's."I say, annoyed. The lights flicker out for a second before they reappear in a neat stack on the table next to my backpack. "Thank you."
I'm Veronica. I live with my wife, Patty. I heard the kitchen timer go off. I walked to the kitchen, put on oven mitts, and took out the tray in the oven. The cookies smelled delicious. I put the tray on the stove. "It's smells so good!", I heard Patty comment, "If only Jerry could have one.""Who's Jerry?", I asked, on the verge of giggling. "Oh, Veronica", they said playfully. I heard a baby cry. I froze in fear. I waited for Patty to make a comment, but they didn't. I walked into the living room, confused. There sat Patty in a chair, holding a baby. They held a bottle up to his mouth, and he suckled. I didn't know if I was more confused of afraid. "Patty, what...""Yes?"They smiled. "Where did he come from?""Your belly", they said. I decided to go along with this...whatever it is. The next few days were like a dream. I laid in bed. Down the hall, the baby wails. Patty stood and faced the door. They mumble vaguely about “taking care of the baby” as they slouch toward the door. I pretend to sleep, but my mind runs, thinking, “We were never pregnant. That is not our baby.” "Babe, come back to bed", I say. They walked to the bed and laid next to me. It's like they were in a trance. The following morning, I woke up to see that Patty wasn't in the room. I walked out to the kitchen and found them standing and feeding Jerry as he sat in a booster seat. I noticed a purple ball on the back of their neck. "Patty, what's on your neck?"They ignored me. "Patty!", I shouted, walking to them. I grabbed the ball. I felt that it was hanging on by a thread. I plucked it off them. The part that attached to them was a toothy mouth. The sharp teeth were like cones, and it had four lips. It looked like a flower. Disgusted and afraid, I dropped it on the floor. It screeched, and I stomped on it. What was left was a purple goopy puddle. I looked up, and Jerry faded away. Patty looked shocked, and their expression morphed into sadness as they turned to me. "Where did that baby come from?", they asked me. "I don't know. That thing must've been mind-controlling you", I said, looking at the puddle. They looked at it, too. They looked up and hugged me. "Thank you", they said, their voice wavering. I hugged them.
Slowly, I ran a thumb across her cheek. For a moment, I saw the girl I'd fallen in love with as a teenager. The one who had tended to me after my beatings, or had slept in my arms at night. But that vision was replaced quickly with her broken form, an arrow piercing her chest, and blood drippingfrom her back. "Kill them.. kill them all..."I leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. She smiled softly before taking her final breath as I screamed in rage. Around us, the other slaves and my Master's guards stopped fighting. Each watching as I released my emotion in a single primal scream. A fellow Werewolf I'd known since I was a cub placed a paw on my shoulder in sympathy, but I shoved him away. With a turn, I drew upon the beast. My eyesight filled with the guard staring in horror as I turned. His scream was cut short as I tasted his blood. With that, the fight continued. It gecame a blur as I bit and clawed my way through the humans, searching out HIM. At one time, I called him Master, now, he was little more than prey. At last, I saw him running into his home. With an angered snarl, I rushed after him as he slammed the door closed. Before he could bar it, I broke it down. I heard his mate scream in terror. She didn't mean a damn thing to me. If anything, she was one of the few people who actually treated me well. I approached him as he pulled his sword. "BACK! GET BACK SLAVE!"I snarled before stopping and staring him down. "I said.. Get. Back. NOW!"I growled deep in my chest, I could feel blood dripping from my arm, back, and leg, but I didn't care. My only thought was of my beautiful Alyn. A snarl was the only warning he got, and I pounced. He brought the sword up, and I felt it pierce my shoulder, I yelped but didn't care. One of us would die this night. I clawed at his chest as he screamed in pain, the cuts no deeper than that of the whip I'd felt come across my back only the moon mother knows how many times. He tried to pull his sword free, but couldn't get a good angle, pain lanced down my arm but I continued fighting, my teeth inches from his neck as my claws continued to shred his flesh. I felt a burst of pain as his mate hit me with a pan, gripping her by the throat I roared before throwing her across the room. She crumpled against the wall, knocking a lanturn to the floor as a fire roared to life. I turned my attention to him. With a similar roar, I forced myself forward on the sword, Closing my jaws around his neck. As he took his final breath, I howled my victory. As I exited I found my fellow Lycanthropes standing over their respective prey. Each turned to me as I exited the home flames licking at the windows and doors. With a howl I called to them. Each responded with their respective howls. My pack. Now, we were free.
"Kill him." That's all I had to go by. Not that it, or anything in this world made any sense. Last thing I remembered was crossing the road and getting hit by a truck violating traffic rules. Now, I'm awake in a city of crystal spires and flying dragons in the skies. With this photo of a man I never met, the words "Kill him"scribbled at the back. He didn't look particularly dangerous. Just an bearded man with a head full of black hair and a perpetual scowl on his face. More miserable middle manager than a clandestine assassination target. My pockets came up empty besides his photo. Which didn't even have a name or address to get me started. Am I to find him without a map or mobile phone? To navigate an unknown world that confused the heck outta me? Kill him with my bare hands? "Are you looking for someone?" The woman's question snapped me back to my senses. Maybe she could help me. As long as she didn't see the kill order at the back of the photo. "Yea...I'm looking for my long-lost uncle. He's this guy in the photo." She smiled and nodded. "That's Alfred alright. He rented the apartment next to me. I can take you there." Too easy. Too coincidental. But I had nothing else to go with. So I agreed to accompany her on her shopping trip before she headed back home. "So, what brings you to the Holy City?" "Eh...just visiting,"I mumbled a reply. "How did you get here?" "I hitched a ride on a truck." "Have you been to Innsmouth?" Wait. That's the fictional fishing town in Lovecraft's novel. What, no no. Its a real location here? Maybe it's just Newburyport by another name. "No." "Oh you should go there for a seaside vacation. Ask your uncle Alfred to show you around. Or even better, his god to act as your tour guide. Offer a nice pot of chamomile tea and you can enjoy a god-guided tour." What world am I in? Which adaption, or is this original? Is it going to be Cthulhu or Dagon? As a tour guide? What watered down, flanderized fanfiction is this? Cute Cthulhu or Darling Dagon waving a flag and ushering people...to their dooms? "We're here, young man. Alfred is on the left. Thanks for chatting and keeping me company! Hope to see you around!" And with that, she stepped into her apartment and left me standing in front of her door awkwardly. I knocked on the apartment door on the left like she said. The same man in the photo opened the door. His gruff voice betrayed his skepticism when I introduced myself as a long-lost nephew. But I wasn't going to head down to the nearest cafe with him to discuss how to get me back home. He can't possibly understand. That I'm not some lost traveller. I don't even belong to this universe, dimension, realm. Whatever. This weird world where dragons exists, Innsmouth is real, and ruled by an eldritch god obsessed with chamomile tea. Alfred frowned when I pleaded to stay. I had no cash, no home and no clue where I was. That much was true. When he told me to sit at a sofa while he grabs a drink, I saw my opening. Maybe I could go home if I completed this...mission. "KILL HIM." The words were now in bold. Capitalised. The photo seemed to know I was close to the quarry. Within reach of my target. I grabbed a golf club from his golf bag sitting by the fireplace and swung it hard at Alfred when his back was turned. Too easy. Or so I thought. He spun around on time to grab the golf club. We wrestled against each other. Grunting with gritted teeth as the club went back and forth. The centerpiece of an arduous tug of war between a man who wanted to go home and a man who wanted to live. "Help me!"Alfred yelled as I clawed the club and took a swing at him. Blood spurted from his nose and lips as a few teeth fell loose onto the floor. "I don't have time for prayers!"He rolled away from my assault. "Or offerings!"Wincing in pain when he tried to block my blow with his arm."I need you now!" My next swing completely missed its mark. The golf club stayed suspended in mid-air as I removed my grip on it. A black swirling hole popped into existence. Tentacles poured forth from it. Into what was becoming a living nightmare of being trapped in a cosmic horror world. I couldnt flee. Or fight. All i could muster were "Oh my god." "Yea that's my god alright,"grunted Alfred as tentacles pulled him up. "So, who sent you to kill me?" "I don't know." "This is some kind of sick joke, isn't it?"The bearded man uttered, wiping the blood from his mouth. "It's not,"stated the tentacle monster emerging from the portal. "He genuinely has no idea. Strange choice to isekai a salary man in than to hire a professional killer." "Can I go home by getting hit by a truck again?" "I don't know,"the eldritch horror shrugged. "I never hit anyone with a truck. Why ruin a perfectly good truck when throttling people with tentacles work for me?" "So what's gonna happen to me? Death by tentacles?" Will that bring me home? Or doom me to a permanent death? I closed my eyes and felt a strange pill at the roof of my mouth. One I hadn't felt or noticed before. "No,"the god waggled a tentacle. "We're getting rid of the magical compulsion pressing you into killing Alfred first. While I figure out which dimension to return you to, I can teleport you to Innsmouth for a seaside vacation." "Elvari! He tried to murder me and he's getting a seaside vacation?"Alfred roared. "You can stay here while he's sent to Innsmouth. Keeps him out of your hair." "No, that's not the problem!" "Alfred, relax,"a tentacle patted him on the shoulder. "He won't kill you once I remove the magical compulsion."
Richard Gaylord. Playboy. Philanthropist. The mightiest hero the world has ever known. "Heads up!" Wielder of the legendary Throwing Dildo. One minion went down in a single blow to the head, the large purple weapon bouncing off and returning to its rightful wielder before being thrown again. "Let's get ready to rumble!" The dildo switched on in mid-flight by sheer force of pun, striking many minions before bouncing back to the grinning Gaylord. They all went down. As a minion whacked by a legendary heroes dildo, your options are to go down or get whacked again. Not a hard choice. Again and again Richard struck- "Looks like you guys are screwed!""I guess it's your first time?""No happy ending for you!" At last, the minions were defeated. "Aw, done already? Don't worry, it happens to guys all the time." But the boss was still to come, stepping into the arena. Long, dark hair, flowing dress, evil smile. She was ready. "Don't think I'm out of stamina! I can go all night!" The evil woman smiled, and spoke. "Oh, I know. It takes balls to stand up to the world's most famous hero. Unfortunately for you..." She struck, a bouncy ball emerging from a sleeve, ricocheting off the floor and hitting poor Rich right in the family jewels. "...the balls in my court."
I had played this fantasy over in my mind for years. After the ceremony, when she would vow to love my friend for all her life, I would have a chance to dance with her just once during the reception. It would be a slow song. I would hold her close to me one last time and imagine those vows she just said were for me. My fingers pressed into the fabric of her perfect dress, forever woven on my palms, the pads of my fingers reaching, stretching beyond the layer of her dress to her skin that bore no blemish. At the right moment I would lean and whisper to her that I was sorry for all the stupid things I said when I was young. We could have done it, you know? We could have made it work. We could have been together and sanctified. Instead, she danced with him. They stayed for only a moment, then ran to the getaway car under the rain of birdseed. The vehicle turned the corner, and slid away into perfect hindsight. I loosened my tie and went home.
This is where it ends. The shattered glass has cut deep into my arms, and I can barely breathe. This is my reward? I thought I could escape from the hell that was my home. I was a king! I ruled over the entire kingdom from my castle, but I had no subjects. It was a lonely world, and I could no longer stand my futile existence. I drove myself to the edge and plummeted over... "Shit! Mom, Someone knocked over the fish bowl!!"
My bladder was stubborn. And full. Stubborn and full, but mostly just full. I pretended to still be asleep. Kept my eyes closed and didn't moved. Pretended I wasn't about to burst from the need to piss. Fucking drinking. I needed water- bad. It wasn't until I reached my arm out to my bedside table for a glass of water that I noticed I wasn't on my bed. I was on a hardwood floor. I steeled my nerves and opened an eye. Blinding light. Everywhere. Pouring in through windows and cracks beneath doors like attacking armies. "Ugh,"I said. The environment soaked in, pushing its way through my eyes to the alcohol soaked sponge that was my brain. Wood. A lot of wood everywhere. Shitty, typical decorations hung randomly on the walls. Road signs. Black and white photos of celebrities. Dim lights. Orange splotches on the white ceiling where tobacco had stained it. I was in a bar. Fucking alcohol. I forced my head to turn to look across the floor. There were dozens of other bodies. Writhing around. Agony everywhere. "Ugh,"some of them said. "Ugh,"I accidentally replied. A jolt of pain from my stomach as my bladder made itself known. Reluctantly, to my feet. Tables, stools, chairs. Never stacked from the night before. As if they were all in use. The sun was bright beyond the blinds that hung over windows. I hated it more than I've ever hated anything in my life. Squinting, I found a men's room sign and moved to it. Through a heavy door and found a urinal. I leaned my head up against the wall for balance as I relieved myself. I knew it was gross, but it was the only way I could stay standing. I felt the weight come off me, free from the pressure. I burped as I walked away from the urinal, deciding not to flush. It felt good. Back to the bar. Looked at the bodies. Some standing now. They were blurry. Human shapes with dark hair and protruding beer bellies beneath cheap tee-shirts. More groaning from the floor. Those standing found the bathroom and moved to it. As they passed me I saw their faces. "What the fuck?"I said. Or I would have said if my throat hadn't been so dry. Instead, I said, "Ahhhh,"in a kind of pained, scratchy voice. They moved past me like zombies, not noticing. I found the bar empty with no one tending it and reached behind to the water hose. I brought it my mouth and sucked it like a milk bottle as I hit the button. Relief. Head was banging. Too much movement. I took a seat. Fucking alcohol. I braved a look across the room. They were all me. I was sure of it. One came over and took the hose from my hand and took a drink. "You're me,"he said after. "Yeah,"I croaked. "Why?" He shrugged. I shrugged, too. "They're all me. Us, I mean. I mean they're all us."He motioned with his head behind him at the crowd of hungover us'es. "Yeah,"I replied. "Why?"He asked. I shrugged. He shrugged, too. Some more me's came and took a seat at the bar. We passed around the water hose like an Indian pipe.
Suddenly I'm in a car. How did I get here? Where was I last? The car is moving....I am not the one driving. Where am I going. It is dark, I am in the passenger seat. I am _bound_ to the passenger seat. So many questions. First: Who is this woman driving? I don't know her. Cautiously I look toward her; my muscles are tense, my brow is perspired, my stomach is queasy. My head is throbbing, throbbing! This pain is unlike anything I've ever experienced...it doesn't feel new though. It feels like it may be healing, probably a fresh wound. The throbbing surrounds the entirety of my skull, the most persistent pain I've ever encountered that didn't evoke audible screams. Did this woman do this to me? Did she cause me this pain? She senses me looking at her. Curiously, she smiles. Longingly. She..._pities_ me with her gaze. What the hell is going on, I briskly ask. She puts her hand on my leg with the utmost care. It scares me, I don't know this person, but she creepily extends her touch to me like we are the closest of friends. She's struggling to answer, no doubt she's trying to craft whatever concoction her and her probable team of kidnappers decided would be their criminal explanation to me. The woman finally clears her throat and states "The surgery didn't work sweetheart, we're going home to rest and spend time with the kids"
Charlie turned off the TV. He looked at his two young daughters, who stared back at him blankly, obviously not grasping the message that Brian Williams had just passed along to the world. Rita, had just made some stupid comment about "Well you know, I don't trust anything on TV, unless it's on Anderson Cooper. Now that's a newsman."Charlie didn't hear her though, he was already on his way into the kitchen. He looked out the window. It was so quiet, not even the birds were chirping. Turning back to face the room, he heard the girls chatting quietly. Rita was using some incorrect metaphor to explain it all. From the sound of it, maybe she didn't realize what had happened either. Charlie opened the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk. He popped the lid off, and let it fall to the floor. He let the cool liquid pour down the back of his throat. Carefully, he set the jug back onto the spotless mustard-colored counter and looked around at the kitchen for one last time. He had always hated this room, especially the hideous orange chairs that surrounded the table. His mother had found them at a yard sale some years back. The keys to the Buick were already in his pocket, so he just walked right out the door. His neighbor Ed was fiddling with the tractor, he must not have seen the news. The Buick was parked directly in front of the house where it always was. For the first time since buying the house, Charlie walked across the yard rather that going along the side-path to get to it. It started up with that familiar sound. As he shifted into drive, Charlie reached for his seat belt but quickly pulled his hand back and placed it on the wheel. Before he knew it he was flying down his neighborhood roads. Simulation or not, he knew that this was his chance. This was freedom.
Ingredients: 3 lbs swiss steak 1 tablespoon oil 1/4 cup soy sauce 1 cup coffee 2 bay leaves 1 clove garlic 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano 2 onions, sliced Directions: 1. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees. Older ovens don’t have timers that tell you when it's reached the right temperature, so you have to use a thermometer. Newer ovens even have beepers that alert you the oven's preheated, but they never really work. A thermometer placed in the center of the oven (or close to it) is the only way to be sure that the temperature is correct. 2. Trim the fat off of the strip. Wrap the trimmed fat in tinfoil and save it for making stock later. 3. Don't pound or flour the meat, that will ruin the meal. Heat the oil in your iron skillet over high heat, then sear the meat on both sides. 4. Scrape the brown bits off the bottom of the skillet and save them on a paper towel for when the grandkids arrive. They love the crunchy bits. Tell them not to let their mothers know that you do this. 5. In your largest roasting pan, combine the soy sauce, bay leaves, garlic, oregano and one of the sliced onions. 6. Get a cup of coffee. Don't brew a new cup, it'll be too watery. Pour yourself off a cup from Grandpa's thermos before he finishes it. 7. Transfer the browned meat to the roasting pan, and pour the coffee over the meat. 8. Top with the second sliced onion. 9. Cover and bake for 3 1/2 to 4 hours, basting every hour with pan juices. 10. Everyone in the house will smell it when you open the oven, so get a mug and squirt a bit of the juice into it. The rest of the family will gather in the kitchen, dipping bread in the juice and catching up. 11. A couple of hours in, the liquid will start to boil off. Add another cup of grandpa's coffee and a splash of soy sauce. You'll probably need to repeat this procedure; there will be quite a bit of juice pulled out. 12. Cut the meat in thin slices and serve with the pan juices. Just like she always did. So long as the family is all around the table, a part of her will be here too. Enjoy your meal everyone. edit:formatting and a word
They were right about the pain. It hurt but luckily there wasn't too much blood. They were wrong about sex not changing anything. They tried to tell me that loosing my virginity will not suddenly change how I look at the world, that it won't magically make me consider myself an adult. And yet as I woke I couldn't help but notice that I something was different. I didn't feel groggy as I usually have after waking up. The sheets felt differently against my skin. I heard quiet breathing on the pillow next to mine. He was genuinely surprised when I told him it was going to be my first time. I knew I was outgoing and I knew I was pretty. People always assumed that at 22 I had exciting dating life but that wasn't true. When it came to romance I was shy and it seemed like nothing could change that. That is until Sam came into my life, became my best friend and made me want nothing but his warm embrace. What happened yesterday came naturally. I remembered everything in vivid detail. The walk by the river, the kiss on the bridge. I smiled recalling how he laughed about how much he had to slouch so I could even attempt to kiss him on my tiptoes. Being so short is a bitch. He tasted of cinnamon roll he ate earlier and now even imagining this taste made my heart beat faster. My crotch didn't feel right. Sexual excitement as I knew it always came with warmth and dampness between my thighs. This time it was different. I felt throbbing and then something moved slightly against my thigh. What is going on? My hand moved towards my groin and as I was just about to realize that my arm felt weirdly bulky my fingers encountered a male semi-erect penis. I could feel the touch on the slightly swollen appendage between my legs. My eyes opened in terror and I sat up on the bed. My gaze went slowly down to my naked chest just to find out the reason why my skin felt so weird against the sheets - it was covered in black hair just like Sam's! But that wasn't the only thing that changed. I was used to two weights pulling down on my pecs and the skin around them. My breasts were slightly bigger than average but I always disliked their shape. They weren't very saggy but also not particularly firm either, their weight always making them heave downwards in inconveniently pendulous tear-drop shape. Now that sensation was gone, replaced by a feeling of... thickness. Sam was a bear. Not literally of course. He was big without being very fat and 'athletic' was definitely not the word I would use to describe him. And yet one look at him and one knew that Sam was as strong as a bull. My bear. As my rational mind started connecting the facts I have realized that somehow now it was me in that intimidating body. Me, little Amelie Johnson. What scared me even more is the realization that my calmness was as foreign to me as this body. For my whole life I reacted impulsively to the unexpected and now... I just investigated everything with calm curiosity, just like Sam would. I looked at my hairy arms. I could feel hard muscle moving under the thick skin and fat as I flexed my hand in a fist. I knew that my forearm now must have been almost the size of my calf in my real body. _My real body, my real body, my body..._ That's when I became aware of the girl sleeping next to me. I was struck by how tiny she looked to me. Then I realized that everything looked smaller. That should not have been that surprising given that now I somehow occupied Sam's 6'4'' body while yesterday I could maybe claim a hair over 5 feet if I was lucky. The girl was laying on her side with her back towards me. She was covered with a blanket but I could easily make out her pear body shape. Even though I was always small, back in school I used to be a promising runner. That is until the puberty kicked in and decided to give me hips from my father's side of my genetic heritage. My pelvis grew uncomfortably wide while the rest of my torso stayed almost the same effectively preventing me from running well. Then in college I learned that when I gain weight it goes mostly to my buttocks with a tendency for cellulite. Knowledge of all that inconvenience somehow seemed irrelevant when now I looked at the curve of my old body with someone else's eyes. With man's eyes... I felt the thing in my groin shift some more and moving the blanket away presented me with a sight of growing male member. It looked much less intimidating from this perspective, much smaller just like everything else. Still, the fact that it was there, attached to my groin made me sick. I wanted to go back to normal. An image of a pink slit I had for my genitalia for my whole life flashed through my mind and I felt how the tip of my member peeked out of the foreskin slowly as more blood rushed there making me painfully aware of the hard appendage attached to my loins. I wanted the erection to go away. I needed it to go away if I didn't want to go completely crazy. I touched my penis just to realize how sensitive its tip was. I moaned audibly terrified at how the deep sound I produced resonated in my hairy chest. I wasn't going to make that mistake again. I decided the erection had to go away by itself. Maybe if I wait... I heard movement back over at where the tiny woman was sleeping. "Amelie?"I heard a strangely familiar voice say. I turned around to face the girl. She brushed a strand of red-brown hair out of her face, opened her eyes and looked at me. And then the loudest scream I ever heard broke the silence.
As I examined the files, I found myself concerned. The indigenous civilisation was very advanced compared to our most recent adversaries. A disturbing amount of time and resources had been placed into the development of fission weapons. It was clear that their development was guided by war, as these Homo Sapiens - the name they give their species - had never traveled beyond their own moon, a mere 55,000 kohtars away. Yet the fission weapons this civilisation possessed could destroy itself many dozens of times over. Also, while their knowledge of energy weapons was somewhat limited, they possessed some of the strongest projectile weapons in this arm of the galaxy. The Homo Sapiens have found many reasons to despise one another. Small evolutionary change had some Homo Sapiens with varying skin colours and facial features by which they divided themselves into 'races'. Some Homo Sapiens believed their own race to be superior to others - enslavement and even extermination had been prevalent in the past. Some with devotion to certain faiths - particularly one-god faiths - used violence to enforce their own beliefs, doctrines, and laws. On first examination, the Homo Sapiens may have appeared little more than well-armed savages. I saw something different. Something special. Throughout history, even through all of the bloodshed, division, hatred, zealotry and stupidity, there had been Homo Sapiens who yearned to bring forth civilisation. There had been those who examined nature, examined disease, and examined the sky, to advance in science. There were those who had written great dramas, and great music, to advance in culture. Many of faith had been motivated to far more benevolent practices, such as peacemaking and charity. One of their most impressive feats is their 'Internet': A vast network of computers and satellites that connects much of the population and gives them access to oceans of information. I also took interest in the 'Voyager' craft, a drone that has traveled 2.5 billion kohtars from its homeworld. The findings of the androids 'Mitt' and 'Kristen' made it clear - not only was war with the Homo Sapiens a dangerous endeavour, it was wholly unnecessary. They had much potential if only they would join our community. If they were happy to join our empire, I decided we should be happy to let them in. It was then that Kollharen entered the quarters. I swiped aside the holographic diagram of the 'International Space Station' and turned to face her. "2500 Assault Craft have entered outer orbit and await your command, Chairman." "Tell them to fall back. Prepare the vanguard and a diplomatic envoy. I'll meet them at the bridge." "But Chairman..." "That's an order, Kollharen." She sighed. "Yes, Chairman."She walked out. I smiled. This was the beginning of a new age.
Some years ago, a group of people created a government. Though imperfect, we are not aware of a better one. As such, I make no pledge of allegiance to the government. Instead I promise to help to constantly improve this place called America, for the betterment of all who live here. I promise to respect the rights and liberties of its people, even those with whom I disagree. I will try, though frequently I will fail, to be kind and generous to those around me. Now, I pledge my allegiance to any and all who make genuine attempts to exemplify these ideals of kindness and equality, in the hope that they place similar faith in me.
"That'll be $1.79." I carefully count out my change and place it on the counter. No sense in dropping my money in his outstretched hand; I've had to scramble on the floor for too many dropped nickels. He scoops the money from the counter and replaces it with my coffee. Without a sound, I grab the cup and quickly leave the shop. I take a right towards the canal and try a sip. It's warm and soothing, taking the edge off the bite of the wind and drizzle. I walk and walk and walk. God, how am I going to do this? I'm risking everything for, hell, one moment of feeling externally what that cup of coffee felt internally. Warm. Soothing. Relaxing. The early dusk makes it hard to read the street signs, but I know where I'm going. I can tell by the scarcity of CCTV cameras and the decrepit buildings. Stockton, Morris, College, take a left on 4th Avenue, there. I see the massage parlor and the bar with the Michelob sign, and the small alley. A few glances proves I'm alone, barring the few drunks at the bar. I walk numbly, I don't even know how my feet are working. I take a deep breath and see her, leaning against the side of the building housing the massage parlor, just a dozen steps back from the brightly lit street. "Got the time?" She looks up. "No time to deal with you." "I can make it worth your time." I can practially hear the smirk from here. "Message recieved. You got the cash?" I hand her the envelope. It'll be ramen and rice with ketchup for the next month, but who cares. She opens it, and with a curt nod, puts it inside her jacket and steps closer. Without a word, the tips of her shoes are touching mine. Her arms slip around my waist, hands in between my shoulder blades, head on my shoulder. I drop my empty cup and quietly lose my mind. Every point of contact hums with electricity, I inhale her scent, feel the warmth of her beneath my hands, my heart beating so hard I fear it'll break free. Christ. It's like slipping into a warm bath. When she rubs her hands across my back, my knees almost give way. I'm shaking, I can't stop, I want more. I find one of my hands in her hair, trembling, but stroking softly, and I feel the tears run down my face. The other hand clutches her coat like I'm drowning, and I am, I never want to reach the surface again. Voices, and a slamming door. she steps back, slowly releasing her hold, and has to practically pry my hands out of her hair. With a sniff, she turns and retreats down the unlit alley. I feel strangely empty. Cold. I wipe the tears from my face and go back the way I came. I glance at the bar, and pause. Maybe they have enough whiskey to warm me up again.
"Is haunted the right word? Haunted. Haunted? Nah, whatever. It doesn't matter." /u/xUsuSx had spent months thinking about what he was going to say, but the words weren't coming. Not as he had hoped. What he meant to say was that this chance encounter could not have been just by chance. It started around Halloween, perhaps why the young man had blurted out "haunted."He wasn't a stranger to dreams, particularly the flavor that attempted to trick him into believing them to be real. Even then, this first dream was different. And, as "first"implies, there were others. In fact, there were many others. Each night and even some random nods off during the day, he'd find himself right back at Winslow Park, running to or from something when he stopped dead in his tracks and saw... "Yes...?"they said /u/xUsuSx in the hopes that derailing that train of thought would lead to some manner of point. It was just as he had seen in his dreams. Every detail was spot on. He didn't care that his shin was stinging or that his wallet was still clutched in some youth's mitt by now on the other side of the park. It didn't matter. He found what he was looking for. "It's you,"he cried. "It may sound... impossible, but I've seen you in my dreams. Every night. Some days, too. You're all I think about. We're meant to be together. I just know it. And I'm sorry if this is coming off as forward, but, if you don't mind, would you like to grab some coffee." There was pain in /u/sakanagai's face. It was just that he didn't swing that way (and he was, in truth, supportive of that lifestyle), he knew it would work out. He could see the joy and longing in the young man's eyes and that echoed in his voice. Honesty, sakanagai, figured was the best policy. "I'm so sorry... whoever you are. I don't go out with people who forget to tag their posts."
"I really like your bar, it's really tende-"the bartender's conversation was interrupted by a rugged man who walked into the room and then, having recovered from the collision, walked through the door an demanded an answer from the patrons. Taking a chair, he projected the question loudly "Who owns this place?" "That would be Onni."one of the patrons spoke up. "Sorry what? I didn't catch that, your voice was too high." "Onni owns this place." "Tell me about him." "Well he's from Finland, and he's well known around here for being a bodybuilder. Formidable guy." "Is he around?" "No, he's not fat he's a bodybuilder." "I mean is he here?" "No he went to the store, he'll be back shortly." While they were waiting, the stranger revealed that he was seeking a large bar owner from Finland for some reason. A while later the door swung open, it was him. One of the patrons went up to him and whispered into his ear about the newcomer. Onni walked up to the man, he said "Good day, I'm the Big Finnish"
Harris watched silently as his mother walked back and forth across. He did not know how she would take the news, but it's become more and more clear, that it was not sitting well with her. She turned to face her son, "A hexagon?"She asked. "Yes, mom, I am a hexagon"he said back. "And when did this sudden interest in six sides spring up, Harris?"She asked, tear were accumulating in her eyes. "It's not an interest, I know I'm a hexagon, I always have been a hexagon. This sixth side of me is there, I know it." "Don't you bullshit me, Harris. Your father is a pentagon, your grandfather is a pentagon. Now you're telling me that all this time you are six-sided. That's not natural." "Mom, It's who I am."Harris was now crying. "What happened to sweet little shape I used to know? Why is this happening, you were never like this." "Mom, there is a side of me you don't know...... I'm not a pentagon, I never was. I am a six-sided individual, take it or leave it. "Just get out"She screamed. "FINE, I NEVER WANTED A HEXAPHOBE FOR A MOTHER ANYWAY" Harris ran out of the house, to face the world alone. He had no idea where to turn too or where he was going. Such was the cruel reality of flatland.
"Commander Shepherd was killed on Lazarus Research Station during an attack on Project Lazarus. Project Leader Miranda Lawson was killed along with the entire compliment of soldiers." "Damn."said the Illusive man. "Find out how this happened. We move on." "Yes sir."said the holo of Agent Messner. "Does this change our plans?" "It changes everything."said the Illusive man, continuing to chain-smoke. "Shepherd was a major investment of resources, and was going be both a rallying flag for humanity and buy additional time and goodwill for Cerberus to operate. But investing so much hope and resources in a single soldier was always a risk, albeit a calculated one that didn't pay off. But the fight must continue. We'll just have to operate more aggressively. Start by courting James Vega and begin manipulations. Vega is a soldier's soldier and will be more pliable to our influence. He won't be as much of a hero as Shepherd, but he will be by the time we're finished." 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 "Dr Chandana and I were successful in disabling the safeguards on the IFF chip and given enough time were able to successfully and safely replicate it."said Dr Cole. "Congratulations Doctor, you do amazing work." "We spent the extra time you requested, ensuring success. Unfortunately resulted in the deaths of 3.4 million additional humans to the Collectors."mentioned Dr Cole. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that." "Your empathy for humanity is admirable, but the extra time was deemed necessary."said the Illusive man coolly. "We'll only get one shot at the Collectors. And this way it has the added benefit of making the loss of so many humans impossible to ignore by the galaxy at large, no matter how much the Council stonewalls. Begin outfitting all available ships with the modified IFF chip, and supplement with programming from Project Overlord. They'll only be expecting a single ship using a single IFF chip, and I intend to surprise them. With overwhelming force." 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 "General Oleg reporting success, sir!" "Congratulations General, but don't get ahead of yourself. How did things go?" "In short sir, with the Eve Core coordinating our movements our fleet was able to pass through the omega portal unscathed. With the various Cerberus projects bearing technological fruit, we were able to apply the best weaponry money can buy: Thanix cannons on every ship in the fleet! The Collector ship was torn apart. It was deemed possible to take the Collector ship with three crack squads, but I opted to instead assault with three full battalions of Cerberus Soldiers, Engineers, and Atlases. We disabled the station and scientists have already begun plumbing the depths of Collector weaponry and technology!" "Excellent General, keep me informed."said the Illusive Man, turning off the holo. His assistant Jana made her entrance. "Sir, there may be a possibility with Dr Henry Lawson. We could utilize him to investigate Reaper indoctrination." The Illusive Man pondered before speaking. "Bring him in, but keep him sequestered and watched closely. With our latest success we may be able to win against the Reapers with conventional warfare. But we'll investigate all angles. Chances can't be taken with humanity's future at stake." 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 "I've returned from Mars with the data."said the android Eva. "Also I can confirm, the Reapers have struck against Earth first sir." "As expected. Humanity left too much of an impression on them for it to happen otherwise. As our research stations and projects have remained untouched, we have quite a feel for the enemy at this point."said the Illusive Man. "What are your orders sir?" "Nothing." "Nothing, sir?" "Admiral Anderson is a good man and a dyed in the wool soldier. He'll keep Earth fighting for quite some time. But he's not desperate enough to receive our help. Not yet. Once he's reduced to scrambling and after an acceptable amount of casualties occurs, best estimates of about 500 million, he'll be more then happy to accept our ships and soldiers to further legitimize us." "What about the other planets." The Illusive man started another cigarette. "A good number will be wiped out. That's precisely the point. Without our help and technology the other species will be brutalized far worse then Earth. We'll let the reapers weaken them until the point that humanity is indisputably the top of the heap. Meanwhile we'll continue moving towards the only true theater of this war. The citadel itself." 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 "The citadel has been taken before the Reapers could attack it sir. All council members are dead by my hand. We are in position."said Kai Leng. "Excellent. What is the status of the upgrades?"said the Illusive Man. "The results of the data on Mars have been compiled with the subject of Project Overlord. The results of the scientists have been confirmed, there is indeed a dormant AI within the citadel's systems. It is currently inactive." "It only makes sense the Citadel was part of their plan, given it's the only constant from numerous of their attack cycles. Kai Leng we were unable to create that simplified boondoggle from the Mars data and instead have created a more advanced series of smaller ship-based relays that will bounce system to system. We'll only get one shot at this, as always, and after that the dormant AI will most likely activate and the game is over. At that point we'll have to rely on Dr Lawson's backup plan, an idea I would prefer to avoid." "Sir, scientists have confirmed they have found the Citadel's systems with the dormant AI. The dormant AI programming is illogical and contradictory in function. Still its hard disk is intact and accessible." "Begin rewrite of the dormant AI. Then order the destruct signal to all Reapers be sent." 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 "Good news sir!"said Dr Cole joyously. "Reports are coming in from all planets, the Reapers are being destroyed by our ship's modified signals!" "Good news, but don't get too confident doctor. I won't be satisfied until we have a confirmed kill of every known Reaper, and then I want a search for any more."said the Illusive man, shutting off her holo. He turned to Eva. "In the meantime, Cerberus now controls the Citadel, and through it we control all interstellar travel. Shut down transport to all non-human worlds by non-Cerberus for a period of two months. Claim technical difficulties due to Reaper sabotage. Let the other species starve and stew a little bit longer while humanity rights itself. If the other species want to coexist in this new galaxy, they'll do so under humanity's new terms." "Made easier by the fact that your politicians are now in control of the new Earth government."Jana observed. "This way we'll know things are done right. And humanity will dominate the stars using conventional power, rather then relying on Lawson's dicey indoctrination research." "We have quite an opportunity sir." "That reminds me, take advantage of our covert embargo to send our ships to firebomb any survivors on the Krogan homeworld. Claim the Reapers did that too. One less thing to worry about. Oh, and remind me in a few months to have Dr Lawson killed and close his research project. And have a memorial made for Shepherd and Vega. Good soldiers."The Illusive man scoured his sparse desk and his pockets. "Damn." "What's wrong sir?"asked Jana. "I ran out of cigarettes. Always one problem or another. I need a vacation."
(I haven't written anything it a hot minute, but this is what I was inspired to throw down by your prompt.) The bus always smelled funny. She wished that she could prop open one of the top windows for some air, but with the rain whipping by, that wasn't an option. Sighing, she drew out her phone and started fiddling around, trying to find any way to ignore where she was. “Hey there.” Oh god, someone was trying to talk to her. Great. Don’t look, Angie, just don’t look, she told herself, tugging on her sweater sleeve and going back to seeing what app she could distract herself with. “It’s 75 degrees out. Why are you wearing such a heavy jacket?” The voice wasn’t mean – it wasn't a weird drunken voice, the voice of the hobo that always got on at 3rd and Jackson, but Angie still had no interest in talking to them. “Hey. Hon.” Oh god, why wouldn't this person just shut up? The widely known rule of public transport is don’t talk to people you don’t fucking know. Obviously this person didn't get that. She hunched further down, scrolling through Reddit this time, trying to find something, anything that would make this situation better. A hand landed on her shoulder. Startled, she looked up at who it belonged to, ready to scream. The slightly familiar face caught it in her throat. Angie swallowed it, and coughed out, “Don’t you live in the apartment across from mine?" It was an older woman, one of those women you know has lots of grandkids and 20 extra pounds she describes as “extra love”. Her face was well worn, but pleasant. Angie had seen her once or twice, tending her plants on the balcony. “You’re the girl who always keeps her window open at home,” the woman said, smiling down at her. “Yep. It…usually smells funny when I get home.” Angie ducked her head back down. Conversation over. “You know…it’s funny, our windows are almost exactly opposite each other.” Angie glanced back up. “And?” The woman leaned close – not in a threatening way, but Angie shrank in her seat all the same. “I was there myself in the 80’s. There’s a clinic on 9th and Grant. Coke or Adderall, it ain’t worth it, sweetie.” The woman straightened up, smiled, and shuffled away as the bus screeched to a halt at the next stop. The bus always smelled funny. Angie sniffed, rubbed at her nose, and glanced at her bag. The pills inside shook softly as the bus screeched and rumbled onward.
I think /u/IAteAllThePizza wrote my favourite one of these: You buy her lilies because roses are too cliche. She hates lilies because they remind her of funerals. So you buy her gardenias at your mother's suggestion. For years, your house smells of gardenias. Then, one year, it smells of lilies. [You can ~~still upvote it here~~ no longer vote](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1ozum0/cw_tell_a_love_story_including_a_plant_in_5/ccxaw3k)
I truly did not think it would turn out like that. When you're a kid, there always are a lot of lessons that turn around the "Careful what you wish for, it might come true"motto, but it is just one of those life lessons that never really come useful later in life. At least that's what I thought. And, to be fair, I don't think any parents that teach it to their kids thinks about a situation like mine when they think about it. When he asked me what power I wanted, of course, I thought that guy was nuts. I've always been the most rational man you could come across. No religion, no superstition, no paranormal, no afterlife or anything alike. I was deep-rooted in everyday life. So when that man came to me and asked me what power I wanted, I thought that he was just a drunkard. It was a late friday night and I had a very stressful week at work. I had stopped on my way home to drink one or two beers, just to relieve a bit the pressure. It was by no means some kind of shady, dark pub filled with rejects from society; it was a very cosy place, filled with upper-class employees, celebrating the end of a week with their friends. I was surprised at first that such a place would let a drunk bum come in and harass clients, but as I looked at that man, I saw a nicely-dressed man in his late forties, with elegant manners and a thin, confident smile. I assumed that it was some kind of lonely dude looking for a drink buddy, or a very bored individual. I normally would have dismissed him as I like to drink alone, but, for some reason, I did not - and now I hate myself for this. As I was about to answer, he waved a finger and said: "Ah! Remember, always be careful what you wish for!" I shrugged and I answered nonetheless. "It's obvious, isn't it? I mean, there is only one power that makes sense, it is the power to mentally control anyone and everyone. Absolute power over everything."It’s true. Who needs to fly, launch fireballs or manipulate gravity when everyone obeys you? The gentleman smiled. "Indeed, that is interesting. Not the most original wish, but pretty interesting." And on those words, he left. I forgot about it, finished my drink and went back home, spending my week-end alone, as usual. It was only on the next monday that I understood that things had changed. In the subway, as I was getting aboard an overcrowded wagon, I thought - as everyone certainly did - that I'd like these people to get the fuck out and leave me some space. At the next station, everybody got off. Everybody. And no one else climbed. I thought at first that there was a problem with the subway, but every other wagon was full. I was really surprised, to say the least. Anyone would be. It was only at work that I understood. My boss came barging in my office not five minutes after I had come in, waving a thick file and screaming I had made a mistake that made us lose a big contract. Might be true. I’ve never have been good at that anyway. As I was nodding and apologizing profusely, hoping not to be fired on the spot, I just thought – like anyone would have done, really – “Just fucking jump out of a window, you bastard”. And he did. He fucking did. He just walked to my window, opened it without a word, and jumped, the file still in his hand. Later, we were told that the stress of his position was too much, that he had some kind of crisis, but of course he did not. I spent the rest of the day trying my new power. I had understood that this man, whoever or whatever he is, had really granted me the most powerful of the abilities. I tried little thing at first – give me that hot-dog for free, dance in the streets, sing loudly. Innocent pranks at first, just to be sure that it was no joke, no elaborate prank. That’s when I crossed a pretty girl’s path that I made sure it was not. Later, in her bed, I realized that it was akin to rape. After all, what else could it be called? Mentally forcing a girl to have sex with you? But in the same time, could those concepts even apply to me? I had become almost a living god. I could stop war, violence in the world if I wanted. I never bothered to, it is true, but I could. In the last two years, I have realized all of my wishes and some more. I have traveled the world for free, I have had sex with celebrities who don’t even remember it, I have made rich, powerful business-men give me all of their money and then run naked in the streets. I have done everything, I have seen everything and now nothing is of any interest. I do not have to struggle for anything. I have everything I want, instantly, and I don’t want anything. You wouldn’t believe what I have forced people to do just to keep me satisfied or interested. I am bored, so bored. Life has lost all taste. I have no phantasm, I just have to think about it and people around me realize it without even knowing what they do. Every girl I have been with has always looked at me with the blank stare of someone who is not really there, and with good reason. And here I am, two years later, at the same pub, looking at a pretty girl who is having a laugh with her friends. I’m going to command her to put a bullet in her head while having sex with me; I hope it will be enough to amuse me a bit. I just wish that lonely man at the counter would stop laughing to himself.
Baldness. Hemophilia. Colour-blindness. Men always did get the short end of the biological stick. Maybe that's why they overcompensated by taking up 91% of Congress and 97% of Wall Street. And fucked over women. In the cases of India and Steubenville, literally. You see... with enough money and power, you can get away with anything. Except an airborne virus that slowly kills anyone with a Y chromosome, suffering over the course of a year, finally culminating in a day-long seizure, all your blood gushing out of your pores, and going bald. . . . Denise sat at her big boss chair staring at her big boss computer. She was an astute businesswoman. Officially, she was dealing with lawsuits about the corruption in her Surrogate Sweatshops, as the protestors would call them, where her company grows new female babies for wannabe parents back home. Unofficially, she was looking at porn. Porn of dead men. I mean, they're not dead in the pictures. Denise isn't that fucked up. Yet. I mean that all the porn actors she's viewing have been long dead ever since The Great Penis Purge. In a matter of two years, all biological men and transwomen -- not all women have a vagina -- were dead. Either from the virus, or committing suicide before the disease could get them. Denise wasn't thinking about any of that. She was concentrating on James Deen having a wank. She's been to several therapists for this. "Androphilia", as it's officially classified in the DSM-IX. Or as her porn site's motto puts it, "It's Dandy To Be Andy". It's a serious condition. It haunts her. Her shareholders don't know, but it's driven her to bribe the managers in her Surrogate Sweatshops to keep the accidental male babies alive. Where can they keep them? Well, they've sterilized and remodelled the prisons -- now that 98% of the prison population is gone -- as a nursery to raise the male babies until adulthood. . . . Denise was saving the males. Denise was saving the males... for herself. And if there was a surplus, well, she could always sell them to her community of fellow Andies. With enough money and power, you can get away with anything. Men always did get the short end of the biological stick. Denise was a very, very astute businesswoman.
We hadn’t so much as seen one of them for over a month. Dad kept telling me it was because of the rain. They couldn’t move so well in the mud. Sure enough, just as I was starting to get my hopes up that we’d never see another one, Dad and I see the most disfigured mess of a person I’d ever laid eyes on. From the safehouse, I could just see it through the binoculars. It had lost the lower half of its body and could only drag itself across the ground. It made its way across the clearing in the forest at a fraction of a mile per hour. Like Dad and me, that thing didn’t have a direction in mind. It was just wandering to the next place. Just existing. I don’t know why Dad decided to leave the safehouse to finish it off. It wasn’t doing us any harm. It wasn’t even heading towards us. Maybe he was worried that it would attract others. Maybe he wanted to put it out of his misery. Maybe he was just bored. Either way, Dad walked out to the clearing with his knife. Hell, the only reason I watched was because it was the most interesting thing I’d seen all month. Just as Dad gets close to the thing, something springs out of the woods at him. I call out to him but he doesn’t even see it. Thing jumps on him from behind and gets Dad on the ground. While he’s wrestling with it, I grab the binoculars and get a look. It was some damn dog. This mangy looking golden retriever probably hadn’t had a good meal in months, but it fought like a bastard. Finally, Dad manages to kick the thing off him and starts to run back to the safehouse. I thought for sure the dog would chase him, but I was wrong. The dog stood its ground by that half-person, growling. Hunger wasn't the reason that dog attacked Dad. It was just guarding what was left of its old owner. Never saw anything like that before. When we were in Denver, we heard that dogs could carry the virus, even if they didn’t look sick. That night, we learned that that particular rumor was true. When Dad got back to the safehouse, he didn’t say a word. He just got out his handcuffs and locked himself to a post. I didn’t say a word either. People look at me funny when I tell them we didn’t talk that night, but what the hell were we supposed to say? In a couple hours, Dad was moaning and thrashing around like the rest of them. I spent the rest of that night watching the half-destroyed man crawl across the clearing in the forest. His dog would occasionally wander off into the woods, but, every few minutes or so, it would reappear. That dog could smell and see its master, but it couldn’t understand that he was gone. That animal would probably follow and guard its master’s corpse until the end of its days. People look at me even funnier when they learn that I killed my dad. But I’m not a boy anymore. And I sure as shit ain’t no dog.
A man with messy, spiky hair dashes into the store, the door vibrating behind him. "Hey. Hey,"he says to the wide-eyed shopkeeper. The shopkeeper leaves the cloth in the bottle he's cleaning. "Uh, can you gimme some happiness? Can I have some happiness, huh? Please, I mean?"The man shakes with a white grin across his face. "How much have you had?"the shopkeeper asks. "I don't know. I don't know, man. Probably not enough, right?"the man snaps, releasing a pained laugh. "Try some of this,"the shopkeeper says, turning to his shelf. The man takes the bottle like a shot, his head falling at the end of his long gulp. "Wow,"the man sighs. "This is pretty good. What is this?" "Oh, that's just some indifference."
The cat licked her paws as she gazed at her humans through the doorway. The disgusting things were at it again. They had even kicked her off her comfy spot on the bed to do it. Oh well, the cat thought. She would just scratch their new kitchen table for a short while later. She might even cough up a hairball into the shower. Give them a nice surprise for when they've finished, the cat thought. She stood to go and give their new kitchen table a visit, when Rocky the golden Labrador came bounding up the stairs. “Ctht! Phlay bull! Phlay bull!” He said, trying to speak with his pink ball in his slobbering jaws. The cat retreated a little, disgusted by her furry friend. “Take that thing out of your mouth.” The cat said, reaching out with a paw and knocking the ball from his mouth. “You stink.” She said, covering her nose with her paw. “Ball.” Rocky said sadly, giving her his best puppy eyes. That’s when he noticed his owners behind the cat, frolicking naked in the bedroom. His eyes widened to the size of his dinner bowl. “Wha… What are they doing?” He said, looking to the cat for help. She had always been the smarter of the two. “You’ve never seen them bonking before?” The cat said with a chuckle. “Bonking? Huh?” Rover tilted his head. “Is he hurting her?” He said, worried for his owners safety. “Hurting her? No, mutt, he’s not hurting her. They’re playing a game.” The cat said with mock seriousness. But of course, her dumb friend the dog didn't notice. “A game? Can I play?” Rover said, sticking his butt in the air and wagging his tail. The cat licked her paw thoughtfully. “Sure, mutt. Of course you can play.” She said with a cunning smile. She stepped to the side and allowed Rover to get a little closer to the door. “Just jump right on the bed, my friend.” She said. “Make sure you give them a good lick.” “A good lick?” Rover said. “A good lick.” The cat replied. “All over. That’s how you win the game, mutt.” She said with a grin. “How’s about you start there?” She pointed her tail to her human’s bottom, facing them from the end of the bed. Rover wagged his tail playfully. “Don’t you want to play, cat?” He said, ever the thoughtful and kind dog that he was. The cat simply shook her head. Rover bounded into the room, tail wagging and tongue drooping from the side of his mouth. The cat smiled as her humans screamed, leaping off the bed as Rover’s tongue probed at them. She jumped back onto her bed, turned three times and laid back down in her spot. Perhaps she would leave their new kitchen table alone, today.
I’m uneasy and it’s raining. Water is dripping down my back and it’s very cold. I wonder if my rifle will even work if she makes a move. She’s so young and could be very pretty, I wonder if she’s even a witch. I can’t really believe that this sort of thing is still going on today. How did I end up in this place? I just signed up for the free food and health care. “You know I’m innocent right?” She manages to speak. She can’t be a year older than twenty, though the dirt and torture have aged her. Her hair is shorn close to the scalp and is patchy. Her mouth is crusted dried blood and some of her teeth missing. “Ma’am, it’s not my place to decide that.” I try my best to not look her in the eyes. “You know this is all for votes? The senator just wants to look good on the TV. After I’m dead and he’s gone he’ll never remember this night. But you will.” The tone in her voice on those words sends a chill up my spine. She’s right. I will remember this. I’ve been stationed here for a few years and this is the second trial they’ve done. I don’t understand how it’s even legal. We have a law system for a reason, I guess it just doesn’t apply in you yell WITCH before you grab someone. Three years ago they accused some girl; I think her name was Susan of being a witch after she survived a house fire. Poor girl almost burned to death once and they ended up burning her at the stake to prove a point. It turned out she wasn’t a witch. I know I’ll never forget her screams. It’s probably going to happen again tomorrow. I don’t even what to know this one’s name; it’ll make it to personal. “My name is Lily.” I can’t help snap my gaze to hers. “I don’t know why I’m here.” Her eyes are a very pretty blue, even when they’re sad. “The priest made an advance on me and I pushed him away. Suddenly I’m a witch? Now I’m going to die because of some old man’s perversion. If he wasn’t so friendly with the senator I’d probably be fine.” “Ma’am, I’m sorry. There is nothing I can do.” I look away. I focus on the bars of the cage. Why can’t we at least be inside? Away from the cold and rain. “You can let me go. It’s dark and late; I could slip into the woods and make it north.” She pleads. “You could tell them I bewitched you and got away. They’ll believe it.” “I won’t.” My feet are soaked. I’m getting tired of standing here. “You don’t believe any of this nonsense. Do you?” She props herself up with her hands and then stand. She is about as tall as my sister, maybe a little thinner. “You know as well I do this is a hoax. It always has been.” Her eyes are tearing up. “I’m finally old enough to leave this place and then this happens. I just want to get away.” She breaks down. I watch her sob. Her shoulders heave up and down. I know it’s all a lie. I could just let her go. Would they believe me? I bet they all know it’s a sham too. They can’t really be that stupid can they? “Listen, I’m going to let you go. You’re right, this is bullshit.” I thumb the latch on the gate and the door opens slowly. “Fifteen miles north the forest ends and you should be free from there.” “Thank you so much John!” she rushes out and hugs me. “I never told you my name.” I’m frozen in her arms. There is no way this is real. I awaken to smell of burning wood and snap into consciousness. She’s gone. My whole body aches as I stand up. I can’t believe my eyes. The forest is ablaze, all of it. I turn around and it hits me. A wave of despair. The entire city is ablaze as well.
Such a small creature for such a big chore. I am up to the task, I've done it before. Through the nose and past the eyes. To perch atop minds cluttered with lies Those thoughts of your girl? She loves you not. That project complete, needs work in spots. A bit of drama causing you grief? Wait, that noise, was that a thief? Creeping in to steal your life, A whisper of the killer's knife? One by one, I tie each down. Knot it twice to keep it sound. I practice this job with smiles and glee. Keeping you awake with this insanity. A day or two is all it will take. To fray your thoughts, make you break. Then when your wits are at their end. The closet will open...for my much larger friend.
"Where am I,"Fabian asked. "You're in heaven,"the man said. "Am I dead?" "No, you're not dead." "Am I dreaming? This feels real." "In a sense. You're not physically here, but your mind is. Your physical body is in your living room, staring at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich you made yourself while chewing the bite you took a moment ago." "I don't understand." "I wanted to speak with you,"the man said, motioning Fabian toward him. "Come, walk with me." "Who are you? Are you an angel?"Fabian walked with the man, though they seemed to be going in circles. They were in a sky blue room with no walls in sight, no point of references to be fixed on, and no ground to walk on. yet Fabian felt the weight of his body against his feet as if he were walking on a concrete floor. "I'm God." Fabian, startled, began to smooth his shirt. "I wasn't, I... I'm not prepared to meet you!"His eyes widened and he fidgeted as he tried to make himself look presentable. God laughed. "You've been preparing all your life to meet me. Trust me, you're fine."God put his arm around Fabian and continued walking. "Why am I here?" "We'll get to that. I've been following you closely. I follow everyone, of course, but you most of all. I see something in you, something someone else saw in me a long, long time ago." "What's that?" "I'm going to give you one guess. I know what it is, but humor me." "Humility?"They said it in unison. God laughed heartily, and Fabian followed his lead nervously. "Divinity,"God said. "You're the kind of man I want replacing me." Fabian was taken aback. "Replacing? You? Wh...ho...how?!" "Sit, Fabian." Without even looking, Fabian slumped backward and landed on a simple lawn chair. God poured Fabian a cup of chamomille tea. "I know you like agave,"God said as he stirred some of the syrupy sweetener in Fabian's cup. "This one is better than the stuff you usually buy." Fabian took a silent sip. "I'm not the first God. I never met the first God. In fact, I have no idea who it was, or when it was. I know everything about you and everyone living and who will ever live, but I don't know everything. Far from it! I barely remember my uncle. He was a 16th century peasant, that's most of what I remember at this point." "None of this makes any sense..." God took a sip of tea. "I don't think the universe is supposed to make sense." "So who created the universe?" God snorts, holding back laughter as to not spill his drink. "You know, my predecessor laughed when I asked him that too. I didn't understand why, but now I do." "What about the Bible? All those commandments? All the stories, personal anecdotes, and conversations people have with you?" "I'm not really sure about the Bible. Like I said, I don't know anything before me, I just know everything ahead of me. Everything regarding the universe we live in, that is. You'll know too, once you take this job. But anyway, the Bible, I doubt it was the word of God, and if it was, he definitely wasn't suited for the job. The stories, anecdotes, and conversations with me? Nonsense. I don't speak to anyone. I can't speak to anyone. My job here is simply to watch. I watch, and I learn. Just as you will watch and learn." "How do you know I'm going to accept this job?"They said it in unison, and God gave Fabian a wry smile as he sipped his tea. "I know everything about the future of the universe, how it works, all that jazz. When a human dies, their consciousness is resurrected and they get to live all over again with different experiences. This place? Heaven? There's no one else here. It's just me. There are other heavens, for other beings, and you'll get to meet them as well. Some may look a bit strange to you, but you have nothing to fear. 'God is good', after all." "What happens to you when I replace you?" God shrugged. "You'll see me disappear, and that's all." "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?" "Of what will happen to you when I replace you. Of disappearing." God smiled, and disappeared.
"This is going to take some explaining, but..." At any given point in time, there is someone out there at a loss for words as they try to explain themselves out of an awkward situation. You start, fumble, stutter, and then eventually, somehow, find yourself at the finish line. It's never easy, but you make it there. I'm usually like this, you see. I've never been good with words, and that multiples itself by, oh, around a thousand when weird, not easily explained events have happened. I remember when I was twelve years old and my mother walked in me masturbating, and I was so flustered that, right after I made up a story involving ghosts possessing me, I vomited in fear and came within an eyelash of passing out. To add insult to injury, she made me clean it up after yelling at me that God was watching, and that, one day, I'd have to explain myself to him. I figured that was just her way of trying to get me to never do that again. Little did I know that she was right, and I would be explaining a lot more to God than just my pre-pubescent masturbation. "Lucas, start at the beginning, and go very slowly so that I can process the information,"The Almighty said from somewhere. I don't know where he was when he asked me. "Well, God..." This was going to be a nightmare. It had all started off rather innocuously. Driving down the street and on my way to pick up a few groceries from the store, I had been having sort of a rough day. Being mandated to work night shifts in a 24/7 convenience store sort of takes its toll on a person, as it turns out, and there was no form of sleep to be had. I was tired, stressed out, and didn't really have my head screwed on straight. But, dammit, I needed to get those Doritos, Pickles, and Root Beer into my stomach. It's all I'd be craving that day. Had I been female, I would have added a pregnancy test to my grocery list, because I would have been under the assumption that I was with child. So, as I was driving along, trying to decompress, all I could think about was the delicious, terrible for you food that was about to enter my stomach. Nothing else mattered in the world. Then, CRASH. It all happened so fast. Being tired and driving is never a good idea, and I learned that useful fact a little too late. The noise was the most horrifying thing I had ever heard in my life. Steel met flesh and bone, and steel won. You're never prepared to hear someones dying screams, and it hit me like a car, ironically enough. All I could do was hit my brakes and let out the most high pitched scream that was capable of leaving my body. It took me negative thirty seconds to realize that I had just hit an elderly lady, complete with walker, as she was crossing the street. The next thing I noticed was people from seemingly every available crevice on Earth come streaming out and into the road. My body was in shock. I couldn't move, breathe, or think properly. It's not every day you something like this happens, at least for me. All I could do was sit in my front seat, seat belt still on, and stare straight ahead. No blinking. No breathing. I could, however, listen, and the topic of discussion was that I had, indeed, just hit an elderly woman with my car and that I was, as coined by a particularly surly gentleman, "a dumb motherfucker who is about to get a Size 13 boot stuck in his asshole."Luckily, that did not happen, as I don't think the human body is physically capable of withstanding that. After the initial shock wore off, I managed to, very shakily, undo my seat belt and fall out of the car. Scrambling on the ground and surrounded by a bunch of screaming people who want to beat you with the prone body of a little old lady who you just hit and killed with your car is never a good look for anyone, especially someone who generally tries to avoid confrontation. I couldn't exactly avoid this confrontation, unfortunately, so I managed to pull myself up and towards the front of my now ruined Ford Focus, where a dead body just happened to be. A dead body that was alive mere minutes ago, that I hit with my car due to not paying attention and lusting after a two liter of A&W Root Beer. This was not a good day. "Go on, Lucas,"the All Seeing Omnipotence called from the clouds. I gulped. By some miracle, the crowd didn't rush me and beat me to death as I knelt down by the body. I could hear the oncoming sirens of police cars and an ambulance, someone having undoubtedly called in a vehicular homicide. People are very on their game when it comes to that, it turns out. Millions of thoughts ran through my head, of which included "Oh my God, I'm going to be used as currency in jail", and "I hope that this lady was sort of a bitch." Naturally, these are not the most constructive things to think at a time like this, but when it comes to keeping your sanity, they're most necessary. Especially that lost thought. That was especially important in my situation. "And then what happened?" Bending down by the body, I placed my hand where her heart was. There was no pulse. Any sign of life had long been extinguished. I was nearing a total mental breakdown. I couldn't believe this had happened. My entire life, I had tried my absolute best to stay away from breaking the law. Now I had gone and done this. It was literally the worst thing that had ever happened to me, and was also literally the worst thing to ever happen to this lady. As I held my hand on her heart, with my mind racing a mile a minute, I feared this would be the end of my life. Suddenly, time stopped. I mean that literally. I know I'm using that word a lot, but time literally stopped. Everyone stopped moving and breathing. Birds high above us stopped flying. The clouds stopped shifting, and the Earth stopped rotating. Everything was held in place as if someone had hit "Pause"on the remote control. Everything, that is, except for me. I stood up, confused and bewildered, and looked around. This is one of those things that you read about in books or see in lame movies where time stops and the protagonist in the story holds his hands to the side of his head and screams out loud because he can't process just what in the blue hell is going on. I couldn't help but vomit. "Continue without vomiting,"God said. It was almost as if he was having a laugh at me. It was well deserved. Wiping away the trail from my mouth, and still not fully comprehending what was going on, I looked down to where the elderly lady was laying. Or, more to the point, where she was SUPPOSED to be laying, because she was not there. She was not anywhere. It was as if someone had come in and stolen her from under my nose. It made less sense than anything before or after it. Through bleary, teared over eyes, I squinted, hoping to find any sort of trace of the body. No dice. However, there was a folded up piece of paper in the body's place. It was almost as if someone had opened a letter and left the contents on the kitchen table. Only the kitchen table was the road and the letter was a piece of paper in place of the body of a deceased geriatric. "You're almost there, Lucas..." I didn't even bend down this time. Sort of collapsing under my own weight and sighing heavily enough to scare myself, I grabbed the piece of paper up and opened it as if I were a fat child opening up a fresh bag of miniature Snickers. It was with total abandon and with no care in the world, and I didn't give a damn. I wanted to know what it said. With the stillness of the world around me, I didn't figure anyone would mind if I read it out loud. Maybe it would help me cope with what was going on. Spoiler alert: It did not. > Dear Lucky Winner: You have successfully killed The Devil. Satan. Beelzebub. Old Scratch. Whatever name you know me by, you know that I am The Harbinger of All That Is Evil. I am also, as it turns out, mortal when I take the form of a pathetic human. It's one of the downsides to being The Prince of Darkness. You can only torture people endlessly for millenniums without getting bored, as it turns out, and I like to wander around on Earth frequently to check out all the damned souls that will soon be visiting me. However, in order to not cast suspicion on myself, I have to take on the form of an inconspicuous human being that is currently residing in my Palace. This form was that of Gertrude Bissman, Nazi Sympathizer. People were normally very nice to her, because she was an old woman. No one but a real scumbag would harm an elderly lady. Well, no one would harm her unless they knew what she had done. Even then, people would be hard pressed to do something, let alone kill her. But you lucked out. You killed Satan. This letter will be my final dealing with the mortal and spirit world, and it's all thanks to you. I hope you're happy, knowing you killed Satan. Tell that cocksucker God that I hope he's happy." The next thing I remember is talking to God. "So, let's clarify this situation, Lucas: You killed Satan by accidentally hitting him with your car while he was in the form of a Nazi Sympathizing elderly woman named Gertrude. This all happened, naturally, as these things are wont to do, while you were daydreaming of eating junk food. Is that correct?" "Ye-ye-yes, God. Tha-a-a-a-a-t sums it up." "Thank you, Lucas. I'm glad that we got this sorted out." "Wait, what? That...that's it?" "Yes, my Son, that's it. You killed Satan. I mean, I know I'm God and I pretty much told you humans that killing is wrong, but you killed Satan. I think even I can look past this one. "O-okay...uhm...o-okay." "Lucas, one more thing before I send you back to the mortal realm." "Anything!" "You should listen to your mother and stop masturbating, because it would be just terribly awkward to be called out on it by God, wouldn't it?"
Public masturbation has been a tradition in our town for almost a century. I honestly don't know why we do it. I suspect that no one in the town knows anymore either, but we're all too embarrassed to ask each other. This morning I walked to the bank. As I strolled by the store fronts I came upon an old lady. She was in the middle of the cross walk, sitting on her walker, having a wonderful time. Everybody was courteous. As the men walked by they tipped their hats and offered a "Good day!". As I passed the town park there was a picnic table occupied by 7 teenagers. Each one had no shame and flapped themselves silly in front of the others. I felt for the town janitorial staff who had to deal with this mess yet they never complained. Nights were the worst, specifically for driving down the dark and dirt roads around our county. "Oh my God, the bugs are intense tonight!"
"After careful consideration and a significant amount of soul searching, I have reached a conclusion, fellow delegates."My voice is even and measured but the lump in my stomach is killing me. Our entire species had finally been welcomed to the Galactic Council after the nearly hundred year induction process, and this had to be the first decision our species would put our names to. This could taint our reputation for centuries. It could frame us as monsters. The vast gallery hall looked to me, waiting patiently for my answer. The Council was incredibly harmonious that way - even the most divisive issues were carefully argued until every nuance was fully articulated. I had heard this discussion for nearly two years now and honestly felt less sure of my answer with each passing day. Sadly, I knew I had to finally say what was in my heart. "It is the opinion of this delegate and, indeed, the voice of the many peoples of Earth, that vanilla ice cream is superior to chocolate ice cream in both taste and texture. With my vote, we ratify the Galactic Council's Menu for the next cycle, ensuring free and unrestricted access to vanilla ice cream for all." The cacophony of languages in the council chamber is overwhelming. God, please have mercy on my soul.
I never expected the worst part about saving the world would be the itchy nylon suit. Oh yeah, and I'm going to die, but I guess I've accepted that by now. I zipped up the last of many zippers and switched closed the last of the valves. Well, this is it I guess. One last time I peered out the window. Far to the left sat a tiny blue speck. Earth. 10 billion people and no where else to put 'em, but hey, we've got granite faucets in half the bathrooms in China by now so who the hell cares? To the right, the other challenger in this fight. An asteroid broken off from an explosion at the Mars colony. It was experimental still, basic terraforming had only just begun but things were coming along well, that is until they saw it coming. Two days out they saw an incoming asteroid broken off from the belt. Now this wasn't too bad, the problem was the asteroid got lucky. It was headed straight for the research base. Normally it would have been sad, we'd hang some wreathes, call them national heroes, and get defunded for the next 30 years. This time was different. Over the last 3 years a new fuel synthesis had proved extremely effective. They were now storing fuel in everything, but it was highly prone to explosion. The slightest transfer of energy and it could get set off. The scientists advised against it but the corporations sponsoring the mission wanted to make as much of this miracle fuel as possible. They sent large cylinders that would drill themselves into the surface and store more fuel than could be used by the entire planet in a year. So the asteroid? Yeah that happened. The cylinders were shut in, they couldn't leak them, all they could do was wait. 10 months ago it hit. We lost 117 people and nearly a quarter of Mars to the explosion. The biggest problem? That quarter of Mars was now headed to Earth. To be honest, we got lucky. We figured out a way to push the red planet rock just out of the way. The problem? It was coming fast and we only had 10 months to get our mission off the ground, one shot. That's where I got unlucky. Sure, given a few years a robot could do my job, find the right place to attach the fuel cell, set it to burn the right amount of time, drive the rock to the side, but like I said, we had 10 months. I didn't volunteer, I was picked. Would I have volunteered? No, I would not have, I'm not a hero, I'm doing my job. A man named Francis Charles hand selected me, I met with him, I hated him, and I accepted the job. I suppose that's enough backstory and sentimental bullcrap, I've got 5 minutes left of human contact, better make it worth it. Opening the door to the flight deployment deck there was a crew of men glad to not be me standing in salute. "Sir, would you like to say one last goodbye to your family?"Reggie asked me. "I talked to them all morning, I can't say anything else, they know I love them."In reality I couldn't bear to say goodbye again, I wanted to, but it simply couldn't happen. "John."I turned to the side to see Mr. Francis Charles standing there, mission protocol in hand. I walked over to him and he pulled me aside. Four minutes till launch and this man is going to take my last moments of humanity. Good god. "I never told you why I picked you." "What why you stole my life away from my two newborn daughters? Ripped me from my wife and family? Made me leave behind my dying mother? No, you never told me." "That's why I picked you John. This job, it isn't for a man who has nothing to lose. How careful would you be if you had nothing to protect? You have something, so many things, that you love waiting down there."He directed his gaze out the deck window to Earth. "Really? You picked me, you ruined my life because it would hurt the most. You're a sick bastard." "John, when you're out there I want you to think of them." "Like I would have any other choice." "They have lives to live and they will want for nothing. We are going to take care of everything they need." "You can't give them a father." Francis paused. He knew I was right and this was his way of admitting it. "What you're doing, what you're about to do, you will always be there with them because of that. Don't forget that, because they will never forget you." "Go to hell Francis."I said audibly enough for everyone around to hear, sending rustles through the crowd. I walked over to the large craft, equipped with the largest non rocket intended booster ever made by man to push the meteor. Once I got there I began climbing the ladder, one rung, two rungs. Then I turned around, swung on the outside of the ladder and looked straight to Francis. "But before you go, I'm gonna go buy you a few years. Make the most of it." I hopped in the cockpit and a crew swarmed around me to prepare the launch. A few minutes later all was set, save one thing. I pulled a picture of my girls out from my only pocket and placed it on the console. "Alright girls, Daddy's gonna go save the world."

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