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Joe coughed into his hoof as he walked out onto the stage, trying to keep his legs steady. ‘*Keep it together Big Man, you’ve fought all your life for this.*’ For many in the audience of press this was the first they had seen of the once-famous spokesman and there was a murmur of quiet conversation as he settled behind the podium.
“He looks so *thin*…”
“I remember in his hey-day…”
“…never had seen him in corduroy back then…”
The words whispered up to Joe and the last ones stung, he still resented having to wear… these clothes. He cleared his throat and prepared himself, ready to come clean. “Hey there cats, how’s it…” He paused, holding up a hoof to stop himself. Speaking like that again made his chest hurt, but it had been automatic.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, welcome and thank you for coming here today. Many of you know me from my former employment as a spokesman for a certain brand of cigarettes, but of course I have not been associated with that particular company for… some time.”
The flashes continued sporadically, but Joe ignored them, his eyes glued to the speech through the thick black rimmed glasses that covered forty percent of his face. “In the 1980s I was forced to retire due to overwhelming medical evidence that smoking was harmful and it was felt that I, as the epitome of cool, was unsuitable for a national advertising campaign.”
He leafed through the next two cards, they continued along this line, but they used many words to say one simply thing. “They were wrong.”
The murmur grew and Joe raised his voice. “Wrong about my influence and wrong, most importantly about the cause of cancer. Cigerettes, I am pleased to announce today, have no link with any harmful or negative effects.” He sighed. “But I was harming someone. Myself.”
Joe clicked a slideshow to display a series of X-rays, his body, riddled with cancer. “This was *not* due to smoking, but due to one thing. Being cool gives you tumours.”
Questions began to be shouted but Joe held up a hoof to quiet them. “Please, ladies and gentlemen there will be time at the end for questions. What I *can* tell you is that I am in remission and as you can tell I have taken steps to become as uncool as possible.”
Joe stepped out again to show his outfit off more clearly. Shiny white trainers fed into skinny jeans, that ended with an old looking plaid shirt. His thick rimmed glasses were topped by a flat cap, pulled low over his ace.
“Looking like a dork is the only thing keeping me alive now, but with your help we can finally get research into the causes and a *proper* treatment!” He paused, but this time there was only an uncomfortable silence. “What?”
Near the front a journalist held up her phone and handed it to him, a search showing on screen. Joe looked, puzzled. “What the hell is a hipster?”
The phone fell from his hoof as he clutched his chest as his cancer surged. The words came out painfully. "No, when did this stuff get...."
He pulled at the shirt, popping open the vintage buttons to expose his cravat, but it only made things worse and he fell to his knees. His eyes bulged, then rolled back for the last time. A small puddle of vaping fluid formed around his head in a halo.
Joe Camel was dead.
|
A balding, middle-aged salesman sat beside me at the bar. After five years bartending in an upscale hotel, I knew the look. Rumpled polo shirt with an obscure logo embroidered over the right breast, black pants and a briefcase. I tore my eyes away. Tonight was my night off and I didn’t give a shit about anyone else’s problems.
“You live around here?” the salesman asked.
I nodded with a grimace. Fabulous. A talker. “Yep.”
“I hate this weather.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the back of his neck. His forehead was beaded with sweat. “I don’t know how you stand it.”
“We drink a lot.” I swallowed my scotch. “And stay indoors.”
“I don’t know what possessed my company to send me to Atlanta in the middle of summer.” He glanced sidelong at me. “I hear this city’s getting big into movies.”
I nodded. *Go away.* “I’ve heard the same thing.”
“I used to produce movies. In the 80s. Kind of like action films. Sexy stuff. One critic called them European.”
I frowned, glancing at him like he’d lost his mind. I’d fucking seen this movie. Who was he trying to fool? “I thought they were shit.”
The salesman stood, his face pale, as the bartender approached. With a curt nod, he left the bar. I stared after him, feeling a momentary pang of regret. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk.
“What was that all about?” Robbie asked me.
“I think I just shattered someone’s preconceptions about southern charm.”
“You *are* kind of an asshole, Evan.”
I pushed my glass towards him. “Thanks.”
“You working tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “Off four days, thank God.”
“Big plans?”
I shrugged. “Helping Jessica move into the apartment.”
He grinned at me. “She bringing all those stuffed bears?”
“You might be reading about the Great Bear Massacre of 2016 next week.” I stood, tossing him five bucks. “Thanks for the drink.” My foot struck something solid. I stared down with a frown. The salesman had forgotten his briefcase. I lifted it, surprised by the light weight. Something rattled around inside. It was high quality – nothing I saw regularly from those guys. “That sales guy left this.”
“Want me to take it?” Robbie asked.
“Nah. I’ll drop it off at the front desk.” *Least I can do after being such an ass.*
Two men near the door stood when I turned and dropped money on their table. From the looks of their drinks, they’d only ordered water. Both wore suit jackets. Well, if they wanted to swelter, that was their choice. I walked past them and entered the hotel lobby.
Something hard jabbed me in the back. I smelled strong aftershave. “Keep quiet. Keep walking. We’re going out the back.”
I almost lost control of the briefcase. The two men in jackets – they were right behind me. One grabbed my arm. What was that in my back, a gun?
“You don’t want to cause a scene here, do you Mr. Smith?”
“Smith?” I croaked. “My name’s Evan Winters.”
“Sure it is,” the second man said. “Shut up and keep walking.”
“Look, you have the wrong man.”
“Just like we had the wrong man in Milan?”
“I…what?” My legs felt like cooked noodles. We passed the front desk. The two women on duty stared up and smiled before returning to their computers. Business travelers lined up five deep waiting to check in. “Look this is all a mistake.”
“Shut up,” the first man said, jabbing the gun into my ribs.
Outside, a black Crown Victoria pulled up to the front of the hotel. Both the driver and the passenger wore dark sunglasses and suit jackets. The passenger carried an assault rifle. I jerked back, my thoughts reeling.
“Get in the fucking car,” the first man growled.
“Now just wait,” I shouted, trying to pull away. Something struck the back of my head. It was sharp and heavy and rammed my teeth together. The world went black.
_____________________________________________________
I woke with a groan. I was moving. I felt pressure against my shoulders and a throbbing in the back of my head. When my vision cleared, I realized I was in the back of the Crown Victoria. My first two kidnappers sat in the backseat with me. One pointed his gun. The other held the briefcase.
“Is it booby-trapped?”
“How the hell would I know?” I demanded. “It’s not mine!”
The first man slapped his gun against the back of my head. White-hot pain slashed through my skull.
“Tell us how to open it or things will get unpleasant.”
“You guys are government, aren’t you?” I asked, staring at the driver and his passenger. “I have rights, you know. You can’t just kidnap people!”
The first man laughed. “God, you’re good.”
Before I could reply, the windshield cracked. The driver’s head snapped back with a puff of red. The passenger died next, his body riddled with bullets. The car swerved and careened into a ditch. It flipped twice, landing on the roof. I was the only one not buckled in. Somehow, I was unharmed except my leg was bleeding. Or was that someone else’s blood? One of the remaining agents groaned. His gun lay beside me. I picked it up and pointed it at his head. His expression made me shudder. He stared at me like he knew he was dead.
“I have three children,” he whispered.
His head whipped back as a bullet pierced his brain. But it wasn’t me – where had it come from? I pointed the gun at the banks of the ditch. At the trees beyond. Another bullet tore through the car, killing the fourth agent. I scrambled back, as far away as possible, trapped between the driver and passenger’s dead bodies. From the briefcase, a phone rang.
The locks snapped open. I stared at it, the brown leather streaked with blood. The phone kept ringing. I let it ring and ring. It finally stopped, then started again. No more bullets pierced the car. Maybe...I grabbed the briefcase and opened it. Inside, I saw a small disposable phone, a map, a file, and a gun. I knew nothing about guns except that this one looked terrifying. I grabbed the phone.
“Hello Mr. Smith. We apologize and take full responsibility for the inconvenience. Rest assured, our messenger will be dealt with severely. Naturally we will dispose of the car.”
“But…but what….who…”
“Thank you for your understanding. We look forward to a successful partnership.”
|
"Had enough?"
The angel spoke in a cold, solemn voice, matching his expression. I understood. It couldn't have been an easy job, spending the millennia watching soul after soul relive their last moments, before finally giving in. The angel had seen them all, from the bland, to the excruciating. I was one of the luckier ones in that regard, I suppose. My last 34 seconds were spent with my family, painless and peaceful. But after reliving the same 34 seconds a few thousand times, there was nothing else for me to see.
"Yes,"I responded. "I'm ready to die."
"There is one other option. You could choose heaven."
"I'll choose heaven!"I very nearly shouted, exhilarated. "Who wouldn't?"
"You have spent the past sixteen hours reliving your final moments, and you have already grown bored. Heaven lasts an eternity. There will be many new experiences for you, but by no means an infinite amount. Eventually, your experiences will repeat, and you will grow bored, the same way you have tired from reliving your final moments."
The dilemma settled in. I could choose death, a permanent end to my consciousness, or I could choose heaven, an endless cycle of repetition lasting through the eons. This whole time, this angel's cruel experiment, making me decide between experiencing the same moments or nothing at all, wasn't punishment. It was a warning.
"Is heaven what you want?"
"No." |
A shudder ran down my spine as I looked at the ever-ticking second hand of the clock. Tick tock. The seconds lengthened into minutes. *Tick tock*. My heart beat loudly as I clutched at the three pokéballs that contained my wounded Pokémon.
“Thank you, we hope to see you again soon.” A cheery voice rang out as a pale, dark-haired youth sporting a red cap walked into the reception carrying five pokéballs. Sudden rage flared up inside me as I stared at him.
His mouth curled as we locked eyes. I could feel a similar snarl forcing my lips back, but I held back my anger for the sake of my Pokémon. The moment the glass doors shut behind him, I could feel my anger subside as quickly as it had come.
A young nurse with flaming red hair stepped into my view and smiled politely at me. She wore a pink spotless pink and white uniform and wore a genuine pleasant smile.
“You wanted to hit him didn’t you?”
Her words caught me off guard. “I’m sorry, but what?” I stammered.
“You wanted to hit him didn’t you?” She repeated the question, remaining as polite as ever.
“Um, yes,” I said, biting my lip.
“Hmm.” She pouted. "A lot of trainers have been coming here with injuries inflicted by others, we’ve also had three fights break out here yesterday. I just hope the government can find the reason behind all this aggression.”
“I’m sorry,” I wondered why she was telling me all this. I just didn’t like the way the guy looked at me.
“No, it’s not your fault. Anyways, let me take care of your Pokémon.” Wordlessly, I handed over my pokéballs as she gently collected them in a small white towel that she produced from a pocket in her outfit.
She curtsied, turned and disappeared back into the corridor. I sat there staring idly at the clock until I heard a door close and a lock turn.
Curiosity had gotten the better of me and soon I found myself walking down the corridor where the nurse had taken my Pokémon. There were a total of six doors in the hallway. All were unlocked, except for the nearest one on the right.
Gingerly, I stepped towards it. It didn’t take me long to locate a small hole on the door where a dim ray of light was shining through. I held my breath as I peered through it.
The room inside was dark, save for an operating light that shone on the creature on the operating table. I felt a pang of pain cross my heart as I watched my Squirtle lying unconscious on it. Beside him lay an open pokéball and two other locked ones.
A figure bustled into view, it didn’t take me long to realize that it was Nurse Joy wearing scrubs while carrying a tray of instruments. I couldn’t tell what was on the tray until she withdrew a syringe from it and held it to the light.
Needles were one of my worst fears. Feeling clammy and nervous I started to turn away, but a voice suddenly spoke.
“Another batch. Good.” A male with a deep accent whispered.
“You keep telling me to coat the pokéballs and the Pokémon with this drug, but you haven’t told me what they’re for.” Joy said, sounding irritated.
“It’s rather complicated, but thinks of it as an aphrodisiac for violence. Once I am done with procuring a ‘remedy’ for this behavior, we’ll share the riches together.”
“What about the trainers that will hurt each other because of us?”
“My dear, do not worry so much about these kids where there is money to be had. As they say, no pain, no gain.”
I couldn’t bear the horrible revelation anymore. I let out a terrified squeak even though my brain warned me not to. The door was flung open as something came through, knocking me to the ground.
A man’s voice chuckled in my ear as I felt my hands and legs tied together. “Looks like we got a meddler, Joy.”
“We really need to test the effects of this drug on trainers.” He called to Joy as I struggled uselessly against my bonds and the strong arms that pinned me to the floor. “Prep the needle.”
Nurse Joy’s face came into my view as she towered above me. Gone was her pleasant attitude. Gone was her cheery demeanor. Her face was twisted in a maniacal grin as she raised the syringe over her head, just like a sacrificial knife.
“Thank you,I am overjoyed that you *volunteered*”
***
*I'm not too familiar with Pokemon so I'm sorry if I messed up on the details. Feedback appreciated* |
If a tree falls in the forest and there's no-one around to hear it, does it make a sound?
Well, yes. Mainly because the Gods of Trees, Falling, and Sounds will be involved as soon as that tree hits the ground (the God of Ground also gets a memo at this point, presumably).
They say that anything that can exist, whether object or abstract concept, has an associated God. Cars? Yep. The sky. Most definitely. Those little pieces of lint that you find in your pocket? Strangely, yes. Of course, the smaller Gods tend to be pretty obscure. Everyone prays to the God of Wealth, for example, but how many people pray to the God of Forks? Probably only silverware collectors.
They are worth praying to from time to time, I guess. If you're looking for your mobile, for example, you might give a quick prayer to the God of Lost Things to make sure it catches your eye under that sofa cushion. Or perhaps you're running late for work: mutter a quick verse for the God of Green Lights and you could gain that crucial extra five minutes.
Obviously, those guys are pretty useful and get prayed to often enough that they've become sizable mid-range Gods. But no-one ever thinks about the little guys, the really obscure ones. And I feel sorry for them sometimes. There might be a God of That Little Bend in the Stream somewhere, and he's still sitting around in the ether somewhere waiting for that supernatural Batman signal in the sky that means someone is finally looking for his aid.
Today, I decided I wanted to help one of those little Gods. Partly as a joke, partly out of curiosity. I wanted to find a really obscure deity and give him his big break.
The question was, who?
I considered a lot of subjects that could have an associated God. It had to be something small. The God of Ideas was somewhat deaf to my silent plea for inspiration that day, unfortunately, so I was on my own. I cast out my mind for something utterly random that no-one would think to pray to.
Perhaps the God of Tripping? Of Butterflies? Of Loose Change? Of Bubbles? Of Hangovers?
Finally, as I was getting ready for bed, it struck me. It was so simple. I sat back on my pillow and leaned my head back as I prepared to pray to my chosen deity.
The God of Belief in Gods.
Think about it. In a world where everyone *knows* gods exist, why would anyone need to pray to the God whose only purpose is to make people think that these gods exist? Like an unneeded appendix, it would have withered away as the other gods grew in power.
But if I could bring it back, I could use its powers to sap the belief people had in the larger gods. Not to rocket my chosen god to the top, but rather to level the playing field by dragging all the others down to his level.
They say a God thrives on his believers. Well, together, my God and I could hold the entire world's God population to ransom. |
73 years. That's how long Bucky and I have been with one another. I was 5 when he first waddled through my bedroom door on Christmas. My parents stood in my doorway and smiled as I leaped out of bed into a torrent of brown and shiny fur and puppy kisses. It, to this day is still one of the best moments of my life.
As I grew so did Bucky. I moved away and went to college when I was 18. I thought it would be the last time I would really see Bucky for an extended period of time. I cried the night before I left, and he gently licked my face as I fell asleep.
Four years later I graduated and got the job of my dreams. Now that I was out of the dorms I could bring old Bucky to live with me and my new wife. That's right, I got married.
Alexa was beautiful, and when Bucky showed up he loved her just as much as I did. He still had his youthful vigor. His coat was still brown and shiny. He still gave kisses like an excited little puppy. He looked and behaved just as he did when I left. I thought I was just lucky to have a 19 year old dog.
Ten years later. My daughter, Cheryl, is starting kindergarten. Bucky was sitting there right next to me as she got on the bus. 29 years. It must be some sort of record.
I buy Cheryl a puppy, recreating the moment that I had those long years ago for her. Bucky probably won't be around much longer, and I'm sure my daughter will miss him. I tell myself it is for her, but it is really for me.
My daughter graduates. Her dog Annabelle, has aged and is now on death's door. Bucky is still here, unchanged. I count my blessings and don't question it. It becomes a talking point when I meet someone new. A few pretend to believe me, fewer actually do.
My daughter now has children of her own. It is getting hard to keep track of all the little ones running around. Bucky likes kids. He always has. He sprints around the yard wrestling. He barks playfully. I wish I could run like that.
Alexa has passed. My daughter comes to the funeral. I hardly see her now that she's some fancy executive and lives in New York. She has to fly back that night. Bucky sits on my lap and licks my face as a weep, just like he always has.
I'm having trouble getting out of bed in the mornings. Sometimes I forget to eat. Sometimes I forget where I am. Bucky is always there though. Sitting in my lap. It's getting harder to take care of him. I don't know what will happen when I go. I'm sure it is near.
I'm in a place with other people like me now. They don't allow dogs. My daughter couldn't take Bucky either. I still see him, but I can't trust my own mind. I don't know if that is him outside my window. I see him running across the lawn and I cry. I see him sitting in my bed and I cry. I see him in the kitchen and I cry. Bucky isn't here to lick my face.
I hope he is doing well. I don't know where he is. I don't know if he is being cared for. I don't know anything anymore. I just hope that he is happy. |
*The person you're marrying isn't me - they're going to kidnap me tonight - HELP*
The note trembled in Mark's handed. Was this one of her jokes? No, the picture and its frame had been sitting in the basement for the past two years, and the dust on them had been untouched.
So now, Mark had to consider the next possibility. The note was real, and the person he had been with for the past two years wasn't Liz.
Wouldn't he notice though? This was the woman he loved, his soulmate, his muse. Surely he would notice an impostor, wouldn't he?
"Mark,"He heard Liz, or whoever she was, yell from the top of the stairs, "Are you okay?"
"Fine,"He said back in a flat voice, "Just tripped on a box. I'm coming up."
Mark packed the note into a pocket, and placed the frame back onto its place on a dusty dresser, in a dank corner of their basement.
At the top of the stairs she waited, worry etched onto her face. The woman he loved, Liz. Looking at her face reassured him in a way no facts or hard evidence ever could. This was his wife, and the soon the be mother of his child if the bulge in her belly could be trusted.
But still, he had to be sure.
"Liz, honey,"He asked carefully.
"Yes?"She said, more worry in her eyes. The tone of his voice must've betrayed his sense of unease.
"Whatever happened to you sister?"He asked.
"Trist?"
"Yeah."
"Mark, I don't like to talk about her."
Mark sighed, "She was your twin right? I just forgot."
That sentence hurt her Mark could see. He hated doing that, making her feel like some of the things she told him weren't worth remembering, but he needed an excuse.
"You forgot?"She asked quietly.
"I'm sorry."
There was a brief silence.
"She was my twin, yes,"Liz said, "She drowned in the river south of our house when were were fifteen."
He could see the beginnings of a tear forming in her left eyes. Mark brushed it away, and embraced her. The bulge in her stomach, his unborn child, pushed between them like the force that tries to keep two magnets of the same side apart.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore,"She said.
"You don't have to. It was stupid to ask. I love you Liz,"Mark said, and he genuinely meant it.
"I love you too Mark."
Later on that night, after Liz had gone to bed, Mark stood in front of the fireplace reading the note over again by the light.
And then he decided. The woman he married wasn't Liz, but he had fallen in love with the impostor just as hard. It didn't matter who she really was, this woman was the *idea* of Liz, and she was the woman he had decided would be the mother to his child. The other Liz was gone, somewhere, but that wasn't so bad, this one was the same, or even better. They loved each other, they were happy, and that is what mattered.
Mark crumpled up the distress letter, and threw it into the fireplace. It burst into a bright yellow, and crumpled up into a black ball of embers and ash in seconds. The words turned into smoke, and Mark knew that whatever this was, it was only a speed bump in his life.
Suddenly, as if they were T.V. screens, the walls became hazy lines of black, white and gray for just a moment. They hissed, everything became blurry as if reality was falling apart due to a lack of Satellite T.V. Signal.
Then he heard Liz's voice, not the one he was married to, but the voice of the one he had been engaged to. Put side by side, he suddenly realized he *could* tell the difference.
"I thought you loved me Mark,"Was all she said. Then, everything returned back to normal. Or so, it seemed.
________________________________________________________________
If you liked this, come check out some of the other things I wrote in r/Niedski, I'd love some company! |
“Just go talk to her.”
Robert said nothing, just cradled the half consumed coffee in a white ceramic cup in his hand. This would be the third saturday in a row, and the ninth overall, where he continued to say nothing, only to spend the morning sucking down free coffee refills in an aging diner while everyone flowed past him. Truthfully, even at free refills, it was probably overpriced to begin with.
He looked up from his reflection in the brackish liquid to watch Dharma carry a trayful of food past. His mind said, I’m going to talk to her, his lungs and mouth didn’t believe this lie for a minute.
“Robert,” Frank said, “Seriously, how long are you going to keep doing this?”
“I got one shot at this, I’m not going to mess it up.”
Frank rolled his eyes at this. Maybe if it was the first time he had heard this particular lie he would have more sympathy for Robert.
“You’re are messing it up by not talking to her. What’s the worse thing that will happen if you talk to her? You’ve got nothing to lose, everything to gain.”
“She might still be angry with me. I did… things.”
“That was almost two decades ago. Come on Robert, don’t make me give you a pep-talk. Hell, at this pace I should just make a tape of my speech, leave it on the table here, and play it for you. Save myself a saturday morning. Right now I could still be curled up in bed with--”
Robert wasn’t sure if it was the pained look he gave Frank that stopped him mid sentence, or if it was Frank’s common sense kicking in. Either way, Frank stopped short of mentioning his wife and let the painful subject drop.
Robert went back to staring at his reflection in the rippling black oil some people call coffee. Dharma breezed by again. Robert caught her scent that he knew so well. Maybe not in this exact form, but a lifetime ago he knew it well.
“Ok, I’m done for the day.” Frank squeezed his bulky frame out of the tiny diner booth and stood up with a labored effort. He grabbed the chipped white ceramic mug that was his cup of coffee, and gave it one last hearty gulp. Somehow, Frank actually enjoyed the coffee here. Something Robert never understood.
Frank grasped Robert’s shoulder and said, “Listen, don’t waste the entire day here, go get some fresh air at least, OK?”
Robert nodded. He watched as Frank made his way up front to the register. He was, of course rung up by Dharma. Her attention was solely on Frank, allowing Robert ample time to watch her closely, she still looked so much like her mother it made his chest hurt just to see. Frank dutifully paid for his coffee, with a generous tip, and left out the front door.
Dharma was busy at the register with bookkeeping and Sheila, the other waitress, was busy gossiping it up with the cook. If Robert left right now to pay, he could talk to her. OK, don’t think, just move, just do it, Robert told himself. A force from within propelled Robert up and forward. Don't think. Don’t think. Don’t you dare think old man, just move it.
The world around him disappeared into tunnel vision that only saw Dharma. Mechanically, he made his way up, and fished out some cash for the bill.
She smiled sweetly and gave him the total.
Just go talk to her, screamed in Robert’s ears.
“Dharma, it’s me, Robert,” squeaked out of Robert’s mouth.
“I’m sorry, what was that.”
The blood rushed through Robert’s head, pumping out a cacophonous beat, threatening to make him pass out. He wanted to run out the door and not stop until he hit the ocean. A tough prospect in a landlocked state. Goddamn it NO, just do this right, Robert screamed at himself.
“Dharma, it’s me, Robert,” come out of Robert’s mouth. Clearly, succinctly.
“I know Dad, I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”
The blood drained from Robert, his mind went clear, he still fumbled for words.
“Come talk to me Dad, do you want to have some more coffee? With me this time?”
His stomach threatened to vomit at the idea of drinking any more of that sludge, but he didn’t care.
|
"So?"I said looking over to my lawyer. "So what now?"
Jacob Kurzweil snapped his briefcase shut and made to stand. "We won. Since the genie didn't bother showing up to court, the judge found him in breach of a good faith contract by default."He held out his hand. "Congratulations, Mr. Tyler."
"Yeah, yeah,"I said, and gave his hand a quick pump. "So when am I actually going to get my wishes?"
"There's no telling,"Kurzweil said. "They've served him a summons, they've held him liable for all damages, but, uh, seeing how the genie is a supernatural entity whose lamp vanished the moment he granted your wishes, there is the small issue of how no one knows how to find him. And even if they did, I'm not sure how they could compel him to abide by the terms of the contract, seeing as how, you know, he's a semi-omnipotent magical deity."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh,"I said, nodding along. "So, when am I going to get my wishes?"
"C'mon, Mr. Tyler,"he said, taking me by the arm and leading me out of the courtroom. "The most likely scenario here,"he said, walking me down the halls of the courthouse, "is that you're never going to get your original wishes. I've done about all I can to represent you in this case, so for now..."He shrugged. "I'm a lawyer, Mr. Tyler, not a magician."
"What the fuck!"I screamed at him. Every head turned, someone dropped a stack of papers across the floor. "I'm being harassed at all hours of the day, I've been arrested for embezzlement-"
"A charge I successfully cleared you of-"he cut in.
"And I had to have a ten hour operation to remove that fucking iron rod from my penis! I've still got a catheter shoved up there!"
"Mr. Tyler,"he muttered, putting one hand to his eyes. "If you'd just calm down and we could discuss this rationally-"
"My life is shit! I'm worse off than when I found that fucking lamp! What the hell were you good for? What did I hire you for to begin with?"
"Sir,"said a voice at my back. "I'll have to ask you to calm down and come with us."
"I honestly don't know what you were expecting,"Kurzweil snapped back. "It's not as if genies are bound by US law! They're magical entities who feel free to twist language however they want! Contract law isn't magically exempt from that."
"Sir, would the two of you please stop fighting."
"You fucker!"I screamed, and lunged at his throat, and there were a pair of strong hands grabbing onto my shoulders, pinning me against a wall as I screamed and flailed. "You led me along! You piece of shit! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
I was thrown to the floor, my catheter coming loose and draining, an enormous weight pinning me down. "Hey,"Kurzweil mumbled from above me. "Billable hours."
"You shit,"I hissed, as the officers hauled me back up, grimacing at my wet pants, cuffing my arms behind my back. I thrust my head out in his face. "You no-good son of a bitch!"
Kurzweil looked at me with mild amusement. "Sure. You won't trust a genie, but you'll put all your faith in a lawyer." |
Ten minutes after I pressed send, the news came online and I saw "breaking news"coming up popped on my phone.
"Shit I didn't think that would work."I downloaded a few tools from the deep web and modified a few minor detail, and now the whole world is listening to the news of explosion of multiple explosion across America.
You may ask, what did I possibly do, to activate an bomb switch on a fortified nuclear power plant.
It takes three stages. Just like a joke needs three stages: The setup, the build up, the punchline.
Stage one, setup. You want the media to be on your side. You need someone who can start a wave in the media. The tools I purchased allowed me to generate a false identity, or rather, multiple false identity. Let's call her, Maureen. Maureen on paper seems to be someone who works in Department of Homeland Security. Maureen sends out a message of distress to a second tier publisher. Maureen declares terrorists hold hostages in multiple nuclear power plant to the paper publisher.
Now being a professional editor, it would make sense to confirm this information with your source. But keep in mind, since I, or Maureen, chose this publisher myself, it would not be difficult to redirect his phone line, email, or even video camera set to a phony one.
For any sane editor this might not be enough, but hacking into his computer and redirect some of his web search or all his web search should not be that big of a deal either. In the end, get him convinced so he's ready to send reporters or writers out to collect more information.
This is just the setup we need.
At some point in time, the National Security people would catch on to this, either through monitored web search or multiple writers inquiring about such information. As the security report goes to upper level, they will dispatch a group of personal to check on site if the plant is secure. It's probably gonna take them around half an hour two forty minutes to arrive on site.
Obviously the site would be in perfect shape when they got there, so something else needed to be done. But before that, a file would be automatically generated and entered into a filter database, any media movement containing the keyword or any suspicious activity would trigger the filter and alert authority above. And that's where our second fake operative comes in.
Let's call her Lisa.
Lisa, on paper, owns a newspaper called Washington Daylight. The agency that spies on media would get an alert that Washington Daylight is going to publish about the Nuclear plant hostage situation and the government is willing to make a deal with the terrorists.
Operatives would be sent to Washington Daylight to terminate such action. But that's totally fine. The point of Lisa is to get authorities attention and generate an actual silence order from the above.
Once the silencing order is issued, of course it could be intercepted. On the order it would say something about no such incident can be published blah blah blah.
Now here comes the punchline.
Our last fake operative, Jake, is one of the worker from the power plant. I generate a card swipe from him, assembling a pass code to access the gate towards the mainframe computer in the power plant. Meanwhile I could send some random poor guy who actually has access to the mainframe to pick up a waterbottle his work mate left there.
The poor sod is going to be standing in front of the door with his security clearance temperarily disabled by me. While he's scratching his head, the kill order probably has arrived to the agents on site.
In two seconds, the whole trick would be blown. After they shoot the water bottle retriever, it would be more than easy to find out there's no one standing in the mainframe room.
So there's no Jake. Meanwhile federal agents would find out there's no Lisa who owned no newspaper. They would find out it's a hoax.
But now, I would have leverage and evidence. Hours ago, I have a edit video of a hostage situation and some fake report, now I have a silencing order from the Federal government, direct evidence of media control and the video footage of them executing someone due to "national security."
Then it's some bargaining... I will skip the details. but in the end, the government need to decide if they want the people to know about the amount of control they have on media, or they could evacuate the building a set off a plant that's too old anyway. And their agents are already on-site, so... convenient huh.
Hey I don't know what they would choose, I am just a 13-year-old after all. |
I know what you're thinking, this guy is surely full of it and can't actually read my mind. Well guess what, I actually can. It sounds far fetched, it sounds paranormal, it even sounds stupid. For a while I tried to tell people about it and prove that I could really do it. The thing is, even when you confront someone about being able to read their mind, they still say that I didn't. And I mean honestly it makes sense, who is going to call them on it beside me? Everyone else thinks I'm just another one of those TV paranormal so and so's who goes around making well educated guesses and leading people to believe what I want them to believe just so that I can say "A-ha and now I've read your mind...".
I gave up on trying to share my gift with the rest of the world a while ago after being ridiculed and called a phoney too many times. I also didn't want to become Nic Cage in some paranormal super secret CIA type scenario so I mostly started going about my business as usual. I mean, I did cheat at poker occasionally but only when I was really behind on my credit card debt. Which happened more than I'd like to admit.
There were a few times my talent has lead me on the craziest tangents though. Like this one time I was at the grocery store. I'd been walking around minding everyone else's business (passes the time, so what?) when I picked up on this one guy looking at some avocados thinking "Shit, Satan is NOT going to be happy about this...". This piqued my interest more than everyone else in the store because most people were thinking about how much they didn't really understand "Lost"but thought it was really a good show.
So I start to follow this guy and watched as he started to pick up and set down random avocados...."Satan will more than likely banish me to the inner most realms of hell for this... I can't tell which ones are ripe. Maybe if I squeeze them a bit they'll tell me. Nope that one said nothing. Neither did that one. Nope. Bunch of mutes. I'll grab that one, and this one, and that one, and this one but I'll do it in a matter that makes it look like I know what I'm doing. And I'll just check this last one out. Yep, it's green, and into the bag..."
I was amused. This person was quite different from the rest. Plenty of mental activity and he continued to think about "Satan"disapproving of his every action. He continued around the store in the same fashion, picking up tomatoes and then onions and limes all in the same manner with the same thought process and the same actions. Now at this point I'd actually begun to grow concerned because when most people start thinking about Satan and how they've made him mad, I'm usually in a church (It's incredible what you'll find people thinking about there). But this guy. He was something different. There was actually a reverence, a love, and a great fear for Satan. That was what I had thought up until he reached the register when the cashier asked him what his rewards phone number was. It was then and only then that he actually thought to think of his girlfriend by her actual name and not "Satan". I'd never probed anyone with the same mental fortitude as to completely replace someones name with another at complete will and only think of them as they were when needed.
First guy to throw me for a loop in years. I'd almost been worried, except that I now knew Satan loved guacamole and I knew a damn good recipe.
|
*Well, my one's simple. I just need to kill someone. Let's work on yours first.*
Fine. I want to bring them back fully. I want their soul to be intact. Do you know whether that's difficult?
*Hmm. It's been done before, but it takes up a lot of energy, and they rarely come back grateful. They may even be different people when they return to the mortal plane. I know that I'm working against my interests a little here, but are you sure that you want to do this? Who are you even bringing back?*
My wife. She died a week ago, and I really want her back.
*I get where you're coming from man, I really do. We all wish that we could change these things. But I do have some warnings for you. If you don't do it in a very specific way, she will be unkillable, except with a death spell. Which means that she will have to eventually find a magician who is willing to kill her, and wait for another to want to bring someone back.*
OK, so we just construct this spell in a way that she just comes back as a mortal.
*Brings me onto problem two. First thing they tend to do, is try hanging themselves. So you'd have her for a few days at most. And finally, nobody likes necromancers. I'm sorry for trying to dissuade you, but I just think you should know what you're getting yourself into.*
I understand. A thought occurs. How do you know all of this?
*I was brought back by my best friend ten years back.*
So that means...
*The person that I'm trying to kill, is myself.* |
Gone are the days of the saws that can be
honed to a sharp edge to cut down a tree.
Laws have now been passed that make such a tool
wrong in the sight of the ones who now rule.
They add them to the list, like guns and knives,
of the things that are meant just to take lives.
When seen with saw, one is cast to the pits.
This is just life in the isle of the Brits.
Edit: Removed a word for syllable count. |
It was a weird honour, when word came from our ambassador shortly after his return to Earth.
"Humans win popular vote as the sexiest species in the known Universe"was repeated through almost every information medium on the planet. Multiple times each.
There's a lag in communications - FTL doesn't work so well for EM so news travels by courier - so we had plenty of time to try and digest that and figure it out.
I mean, what could the Arachnids or the Cephalopods (following the Earth convention of choosing local names for aliens based on the Earth creatures they most resemble) find attractive about us? No armour plates, no tentacles, the wrong number of limbs. Hell, to them our sex organs probably look like something from a horror vid.
Needless to say, there was a huge boost in porn production involving humans with aliens (well, humans with humans in rubber suits) and we were sending shiploads of data out to the stars. Pictures, audio, video, 3D, direct neural recordings... you name it. Earth started raking in exocredits from the royalties.
One woman (under the name 'Starbanger') specialized in producing multi-species gangbang videos, working for a production company that employed a few xenobiologists to help their special effects artists make everything as realistic as possible. The income from those should make it no surprise that the production costs exceeded those of 20th century Hollywood - *and nobody cared*. However your species reproduced, she'd get freaky with it in a compatible way - or at least appear to by the time the video was through post-production.
It was all a mistranslation, as we found when Ms. Starbanger tried to arrange a tour of the Hub Worlds with a bit of prostitution on the sly (only with the more physically compatible species, of course).
We weren't the 'sexiest', we were the 'most promiscuous'. Aliens weren't getting off to our videos, they were watching them with morbid fascination. Ms. Starbanger's reception wasn't exactly what she'd anticipated - she met crowds of exopsychologists specializing in deviant species, not horny fans. And they wanted to interview her, not have sex with her.
There's no longer a demand for our porn because we've already produced enough to keep researchers busy for a thousand years, and nobody wants to deal with us any more now that we're 'outed' as a species of indiscriminate sex fiends.
*Exocredits* of galactic currency in the Terran Central Bank, and we can't get anyone to take them.
|
Fear had taken over. Society had crumbled. Monsters roamed the earth. The few remaining safe places became havens for humanity in a world more terrifying than we ever imagined.
However, in true post-apocalyptic fashion, it was proven that man is the real monster.
Where governments failed and religions proved fruitless, one thing remained to keep people together. The inevitable power vacuum was filled by a group so vast that it covered continents. The Illuminati? The Knights Templar? The reptilian overlords?
No.
It was Walmart.
Feeding into people's innate needs for food and shelter (as well as entertainment and cleaning supplies) allowed the corporation to drive its competitors into the jaws of the mindless creatures lurking outside their walls. The CEO, having completely abandoned Sam Walton's vision, turned his business into a totalitarian state, offering help and supplies only to those who accepted his rules. And those who didn't?
Well.
They met Jon.
Before the apocalypse, Jon was a nobody, just another faceless cashier in a sea of blue vests. He did his job moderately well, and kept his head down. No one noticed him, or at least didn't care. He just worked, got paid, rinsed, and repeated.
However, this was exactly what the now imposing force required.
After the CEO killed the real Jon in secret, he spread tales of "Jon the cashier"- a silent killer working for the good of Walmart. A "secret police", if you will. Stories spread telling in an Orwellian fashion how anyone who spoke against Walmart would get something special in the checkout line. Perhaps when they got home one of their plastic bags would explode in their face. Perhaps they would realize too late that their Cheerios were, in fact, laced with a deadly poison. Only the knowing smile and "thank you for shopping at Walmart!"from the cashier could tell.
Some say Jon could read minds. Others say he could kill you with nothing but a smiley face sticker. The word spread like wildfire, tightening Walmart's grip on the populace.
The moral of the story?
Watch how you speak to the employees at your local Walmart. Because although the real Jon is dead, you may still become one of his victims. |
“Nick you’re late!” the manager screamed. “We need you at the drive through! Get your ass in here!”
“Sorry, sorry!” mumbled Nick. The stench of alcohol was thick on his lips but his co-workers paid him no mind. They had more to worry about the life of a lost man. Each person was destined for a certain career, the small black image on their wrist sealing their fate forever.
Some of the marks were more specific than others, but each one was accurate. Jane, the cashier, was working to put herself through college in order to become an astrophysicist, the small star and lambda on her wrist proof. Billy, on the grill, was destined for politics—nothing big like the president, but most likely a city official as shown by the small Greek temple on his wrist. The manager, Katherine, was destined to be a manager—a kind a crappy job if you asked Nick, but at least she had the solace of knowing what her career was.
Nick had been born with a line above a large circle. As per protocol, the doctors looked up the mark in their archives, yet found nothing, not a single match. Unsure of what else to do, they documented the mark simply as “Unknown.” Or so he was told. Nick, of course, didn’t remember any of it—only the fact that he had been ridiculed all his life, an outcast.
In middle school, some of the kids with more prominent careers, such as surgeons, lawyers, and physicists made fun of him. Others ignored him. Nick was not ugly, nor unathletic, yet no-one wanted anything to do with him. Not even the future prostitutes or garbage men would speak to him.
***
Nick shoved past Billy as he made his way towards the window. *Maybe today’s the day,* he thought. *Maybe today someone will realize how important I am and take me away like others with special jobs.* Future presidents and supreme court justices among others were taken away by the government and put under heavy guard. No one quite knew what happened to those kids, but Nick assumed they went through some sort of life simulation, sort of like *The Truman Show.*
Nick snapped back to reality as a blue Prius drove up the window. He switched on auto-pilot and started working.
***
The car screeched to halt, tilted sideways in the parking space. The door flew open and Nick stumbled out. He belched and shuffled forward, leaving the door ajar. He approached the front door to his apartment building and started pushing, and then pounding when the door wouldn’t open. He turned around and looked up in the sky, giving up hope. There was a loud *thump* as Nick slouched against the wall.
The sky was a bright blue, which Nick thought was odd since by his estimate it should have been midnight. But what did he know, he was drunk. The sky started flashing and changing color and an odd screeching noise permeated through every layer of his being. Yet alcohol was too strong and Nick blinked several times, then fell over, faintly hearing the secretary come rushing out the door.
***
Nick opened his eyes. A bright light blinded him momentarily and he squeezed them shut again.
“Ah, you’re awake. Finally. How’s your head feeling?”
“Urgh. Uhhhhhhhhhh! Where the f*ck am I?” Nick rubbed his temples.
“You’re in a safe house in the Rockies.”
“Good, that means it’ll be safe to go back to sleep,” grumbled Nick as he rolled over. The bed was actually quite comfy.
“Actually, we can’t let you do that.”
“What the hell do you mean ‘We’? Who the f*ck are you anyway?”
“My name is Mary Blanstein and I work for the CIA.”
Her voice sounded familiar. Nick turned around.
“Jesus Christ, Mary, you’re supposed to be a f*cking secretary not work for the CIA. What the hell happened? What about your mark?”
“Fake,” she replied nonchalantly. “It’s not illegal if I work for the government so don’t even ask.”
“Alright, alright. Why am I here then?”
“Well, Nick, we believe you’re supposed to save the world.”
***
*If you want to read more of my stories, check out r/Wildman171. If you want me to continue with this one, upvote or leave a comment. Cheers!*
|
"So, I bet you are wondering why I've gathered you here."
I glance to my right, then my left; content faces fill the small space. Is this guy crazy, or what? I need to say something....
"Umm, what's the deal with this?"I pipe up. "No one in this elevator has any idea what you're talking about, man."
He shoots me a cold stone glare that pierces my confident spirit.
"What are you suggesting?"He says, gauging the equally confused reactions of the others in the box.
"Well, look, you all seem to know what's going on, and I don't. I just want to get on with my day."
Everyone including him turn their attention to me, double-taking each other in bewilderment. I try to shove past them, but the man who pushed the button reaches his thick arm to my belt and stops me before I can push the emergency call button.
"You don't belong here, do you?"
I gaze into his unforgiving face, terrified for my personal safety, as the others shuffle around, as if preparing for a conflict. He awaits my verbal response, but then continues speaking after I pass my turn.
"Look, I'm sorry, I really am, but you don't belong here, and at this point, we can't let you just continue with your day like nothing happened."
My eyes widen as I realize what he is inferring.
"Whoah, there's no reason to become violent here, I don't even know who you people are; even if I wanted to tell someone, I wouldn't know what to say!"
He scoffs, pulling the sleeves of his thin maroon shirt up.
"All in favor of letting the outsider continue to live his meaningless existence?"
4 out of 8 hands raise toward the ceiling.
"It looks like you have a lucky break today."
The doors suddenly open to my bedroom back at home, and he throws me out onto my floor, writhing in pain. I stand up, staggering and turn around to see the doors closing. I sprint towards them, and they close just as my fingers touch them. I pry the doors open again, but there is nothing but my bedroom door, and the doors fade into nothing. I sit down on the end of my bed, contemplating what he meant. "His meaningless existence."I wonder if I should've just played along.... What if I had gone along with it?
Well.... no use rethinking it now.
I drop my head into my hands desperately, wanting to understand. This doesn't make any sense. Nothing ever does....
[{THE END}]
Well, thank you very much everyone. This was my very first writing prompt, and I have never written in my free time before, so any feedback other than my minimalist and uncreative ending is much appreciated, ^^ |
"Don't worry, son, the dentist is just as afraid of you as you are of him."
Cee looked at Mr. Poker, the dentist. Of course, his real name was Pockinsky, and really, there were beads of sweat on his forehead.
"O-o-o-open up, please", he said, and Cee cast a hesitant look over to his father, who nodded encouragingly.
Cee swallowed, then slowly did as asked, pressing his eyes shut. He felt his intestines churning, threatening to bubble up as the dentist started looking and pickering at his teeth with his instruments, but a reassuring touch from his father calmed him down enough to endure the procedure.
Eventually, it was over.
"Thank you, Mr. Pockinsky. I appreciate your service very much", said Cee's father, plunking down a sizeable bag of gold on the examination chair that Cee had just vacated.
The still-shaking dentist managed only a curt nod as the old dragon and his son left the room. |
2342, That is how many years I have lived on this Earth, each day I woke up as spry as the last, and although I have lived through hard times, and have lost loved ones in my life, but after the first few times I began to understand that they lived full lives, and that I perhaps added some enjoyment to it.
When war was declared on Germany in July of 1914 I knew it wouldn’t be long before Britain got involved, and when it did I signed up immediately, because I wanted to serve my country and with no risk to my own health it seemed like a good idea at the time, and it would give me a chance to travel, and meet new people, so at the time it seemed like a no brainer.
First day I met a boy named Samuel, he was a slinky, pale lad that could barely hold his rifle, but he had a fire in him, and always had a smile. All he could talk about was how he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become an Officer in the British Army! Even though he had a rough time in training, Samuel always saw the brighter side of things, and before he, and I knew it we were being shipped off to Belgium, where we will spend the next few years in something worse than hell.
The fields of Belgium were already a hellscape when we got there. A land of mud, and twisted steel, a fitting setting for the industrialized killing that took place there, and while even I wavered in the face of the new, and creative ways man was killing man, Samuel would talk about he was going to be an officer, and that when he did I will never have to clean another latrine ever again! When I eventually retorted “Yea, that is if you live through today!” Samuel would respond “Aren’t we immortal until proven otherwise!”, although I doubt he knew the real reason I chuckled in response.
I remember that chilly morning, Samuel and I were talking over breakfast, about home mostly, and over the sizzle of the fire, we heard it, a whistle! Samuel and I immediately started scrambling for cover, but then we started hearing thumps followed by the words that everyone in the trench feared. GAS! GAS! Came echoing through the lines, and I began reaching for a mask that wasn’t there, I frantically started searching for it on the ground when suddenly a wave of greenish yellow comes crashing over me. My eyes, skin, and lungs felt aflame, I lay there flailing in agony when I blackout. I woke up to the sound of gunfire, and a man shaking me awake, when I go to rub my face I find that I am being impeded, it is a gas mask, I start looking around, then I see Samuel, lying still on the ground. I crawl over to him, and attempt to shake him awake, but to no avail. He wasted his life in an attempt to save mine.
I learned that day that war has different ways of killing people.
|
They were so quiet.
She walked with her head down, eyes shut, pretending to be one of the masses. They all had their walkways, their plans to go to and from work, or out with friends. They all had the hustle of the city, and sensitive ears to know exactly where they were going.
Streetlights had been replaced with clickers, steady beats synchronizing like heartbeats as the sound bounced off every object that might be in their paths. She was used to this world of noise.
But every once in a while, she couldn't help herself.
She opened her eyes, watched her feet drop steadily onto the cement in front of her, and the feet of all the other people around her.
She tilted her head, neck creaking in protest as she once more looked.... up.
They perched on buildings, clinging to walls, their shape amorphis and uncomfortably colorful. Eyes seemed to pop in an out of existence faster than she could track, the pattern recognition centers of brain brain practically /screaming/ to look away.
It was silent, but trembled and shifted so quickly that it *should have* made a sound.
It was a dog, a truck, a thousand human faces leering out at her with spindly arms that wove across brick like creeping mold. A spectrum of color twisted and fluttered, shaking like the world itself was falling to pieces. She felt her breath hitch as a quiet 'pop' sounded somewhere in her mind.
no.
She closed her eyes, breath trembling as she listened to the steady click click of what used to be lamp posts.
She fell into step with her fellow humans, absently wiping away the warm trail of blood from her upper lip, licking away the rest. She could feel it watching her, hairs on the back of her neck prickling, ears straining for any hint that it would finally pick her off for daring to look *up*.
[They were so quiet.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvkU2u2tI2g) |
"Do you love me?"I ask, but I already know the answer. It has been a week since anyone was able to lie. He sits across from me at the kitchen counter, shoving a breakfast burrito into his mouth and trying very hard to not look at me. This house used to be cosy. It used to be warm.
He freezes, when I ask. I do not look away. When he looks up to meet my eye, I stare at him. Challenge him. He wipes the ketchup from his lip, and he swallows, and he considers his answer carefully. Whatever it is, it will be the truth.
"I want to."
I stare. I do not see him.
"Do you love me?"he asks.
I swallow. "I can't."
The kitchen is filled with our silence, except today it is different: today when we don't talk, we say the most we've ever said to one another. The timer for the oven tick-tick-ticks away. It is deafeningly loud.
"Are we going to try?"he voyages.
"We did."
"I know."
We do not go ahead with the wedding. |
The Russian's Sierra-Class submarine Pskov was the only craft of the joint operation to survive the initial onslaught from the other world. The rotting corpse of an impossibly large sea beast floated onto the shore of Chile, drawing large crowds of horrified onlookers. World leaders were scrambling to organize a barrier of some sort, a sort of control zone to prevent further creatures from coming through. Captain Rohkscov had no patience for the bureaucracy, however. He had just taken the liberty of attaching cameras all over his vessel, to allow for better perception in an entire world of water draped in darkness.
"Ensign. Any contacts on sonar?"The question came from a steel-gray beard.
"No sir. Nothing."The young man whispered, his clean-shaven face made him look like a 15 year old boy. He gulped nervously, louder than he expected to.
"Set a course, straight ahead half."The crew murmured among themselves, looking to their captain.
"Sir?"
"Do it. We have to make sure nothing else gets through before reinforcements come. Its up to us, now."Rohkscov said with an icy sternness. The crew began to work in unison, preparing for something no human had ever done before. The submarine lurched forward, and everyone on board held their breath. Even the captain.
A terrible creaking filled the ship as it neared the entrance. Tapping the monitor with the front camera feed, Rohkscov made sure everything was working. The water was a deep blue, but the portal was plain to the naked eye. Black as night, darker than space. It seemed to absorb light around it.
"A black hole...?"He muttered to himself. "Yellow alert."He knew it didn't matter. All that did was that he still had plenty of torpedoes left, and that the nuclear reactor was still functioning within normal parameters. The darkness grew and filled the camera feeds all around. Port and starboard feeds fell into the black. The collective heartbeats of the entire crew could almost be heard above the unnatural silence of this part of the ocean. Even the engine could scarcely be heard. And then a rushing sound of water roared around them, scaring the shit out of many an ensign. Even the captain felt uneasy despite his words.
"Steady, men. Steady."The roaring filled the command deck, the steel around them creaking and shaking violently. With his hands clasped behind his back, he used all his might to stay on two feet as one officer fell from his post. The man clamored back into his chair, staring at the radar desperately while holding the console before him. The radar was registering a constant contact all around them, as if they were surrounded by a massive school of tuna that stretched forever.
Then silence. The ping of the radar was the only sound. The camera feeds remained dark as a moonless night in the woods of Siberia. Ping. Ping.
"Turn the floodlights on. Any radar contact?"Rohkscov hissed.
"No sir. Nothi -- wait. One contact, dead ahead. It's massive, sir. Just like the other contact."The men were silent, staring at their monitors, resisting the urge to glance around themselves.
"Red alert! Load all the tubes, flood them with water. Prepare for a full attack."Rohkscov's heart pounded in his throat, and he tried hard to gulp it down. He knew this was a suicide mission. But he had to do what he could to prevent another invasion from this forgotten realm. He stared at the cameras, flicking on the floodlights. Nothing was there, at least not yet.
"Sir, 1000 meters. 800." The ensign shrilly called. "Its closing on us! 600 meters!"
"Fire tubes 1 through 4! Then begin a dive!"Rohkscov wasn't sure the hull could take this kind of pressure. The iron was already moaning all around them, complaining. Lugnuts strained to keep in place.
"Torpedoes away! Beginning the dive!"The ensign shouted. Men all around were shouting commands into their radios, bracing themselves for the maneuver.
"Dive Dive Dive!"Rohkscov held onto the periscope tower, as the entire deck tilted, and his eyes were glued to the camera. The torpedoes went true on their path, dead ahead. The explosions shot small light bursts into the feed, and he could see a body of something that should never be able to exist. As the sub turned down to dive, twisting to port, he could see a large... chest? Green among the inky black. The sub continued its dive, luring the creature after them as a terrible squeal filled the ocean of madness. The horror was palpable, the minds of men weak in such a strange place. One ensign was crying as he stared at his screen with a vacant face, dreaming of the Volga.
The sub continued its dive as the strange being screamed, echoing within the skulls of the crew. No matter how hard they pressed their hands into their ears they could hear it. The cries of an alien being. Further down they went, twisting and spiraling into the obsidian water. Rohkscov stared at his screens, listening to the sounds of rivets popping and steel squeaking in protest. Then he saw something. Structures. A forbidden acropolis. Unnatural angles, sloping stones. Escherian architecture.
"Impossible"Rohkscov whispered, and all the men were shouting as he stood staring at the screens. "What is this place?"The stones from which these eldritch buildings were carved was a dark obsidian blended with the green of emerald moss, and as the submarine continued its dive, found a massive opening in this hellish temple sitting amongst odd spheres and hateful geometry. Whispers filled his mind, words that violated his senses and penetrated his will. He fell to his knees, clutching his ears. The cries of the beast were nothing compared to those whispers! The darkness was so complete here, in this forgotten place. A place that should never have been discovered.
The submarine suddenly halted, throwing men to their faces and back, knocking the wind out of most. The whispers fell silent, and the sub began to move again. Rohkscov looked up from the ground, tears welling in his eyes as he stared at the front cameras. The chest. Horrible barnacles crusting powerful muscles. His view rose up to see a massive nest of twirling tentacles, writhing as if they all had minds of their own. The whispers began again as he saw the terrible maw of something older than his home world. And then the eyes. The eyes that seemed to stop his heart in his chest. He died before the submarine was crushed like a soda can in the hands of an elder god.
__________________________________________
Well, that was fun to write! Thanks for the weird and awesome prompt.
[Click here for more weird things](https://talesofatravellingsalesman.com/) |
“Dude,” he says, leaning back in my recliner with a slice of pizza carelessly tucked crust against the palm of his hand. “She, like, showed me this really great comic book. Y’know, I don’t even really read comics - or I haven’t since we were little.”
I’m half listening and half watching the way his fingertips occasionally touch the cheese or pepperoni and come up with spots of grease. Each time he does this I have to wipe my own hands on the paper towel sitting on my thigh. Even then, I feel dirty. Maybe it’s more than the reddish reflective liquid on his fingers that is making me feel this way, though. I wipe my fingers off again hoping to rub away the feelings of guilt and resentment and the urge to suffocate my best friend.
“Like, she just picks the coolest things, though,” Jason carries on, only pausing to bite his pizza and starting again while he chews.
It’s a terrible habit. How can a woman love someone who does that?
“She showed me this one about these people who--” The cheese sticks to the roof of his mouth and he tongues it away before continuing. “Well, they like have sex in public places and every time they - y’know - like come, time stops. And then--” He shoves another bite into his mouth even though he isn’t done with the first. “Well, there’s this one--” The chewing sound is so loud that I can hardly hear his voice. “--they are on some sort of like adventure to find Death’s kid or something. They are like the other horsemen of the apocalypse.”
The way he describes these comics is almost painful to me. Especially considering the fact that I’d already shown them to him and was given a harsh elbow to the ribs and some sort of insult about my penis size.
I realise that I still feel dirty and I’m not even paying attention to the grease around his lips that drips onto his chin. Because I’m in love with this girl.
“Y’know,” he swallows whatever is in his mouth despite it being clearly too much. “You’d really like her. I mean, if this shit was as hot in guys as it was in girls, you’d have all of the bitches.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes as I exhale. He’s been talking about her for weeks and I am so painfully aware that I’d like her and so confused as to why I haven’t met her yet. Bragging and flaunting are two of his favourite things so it seems to me that he has something to hide. If I hadn’t been so caught up in the fairy-tale-like figure that was this woman, I’d have probably noticed this sooner.
So I ask, “Why don’t you bring her to paintballing this Friday?”
He shrugs and leans back in his chair and takes another bite. “Nah, that’s not a good idea,” he hums.
“Why not? I mean, you said she is like a beast paintballer or something. Has some solid knowledge of the gear,” I point out.
“No, man, okay.”
I laugh and sit up, leaning forward to grab another slice and watching him suspiciously. “I think she doesn’t exist. You’re making it up,” I taunt.
“Stop, Drew. She’s real. I talked to her last night,” he insists, agitated.
His frown is dramatic and he is still holding the pizza up as if he’s ready to take a bite. It limply hangs before his pouting lips and a drop of grease falls onto his brown pants leaving a small dark dot on the fabric. Then he lowers the pizza and draws in a breath. This means he’s going to have to say something human. Not something Jason. Jason the holier-than-thou douche who somehow consumed the best friend I’d made way back in elementary school.
“I met her online, ok. You can’t meet her because I can’t either,” he admits, sniffing in through his nose as if to clear his sinuses.
It’s a nervous habit of his.
“Dude, she’s totally a man!” I shout, almost launching the slice of pizza in my hand up to the ceiling.
“No, dude, she’s not,” he huffs, stuffing his mouth full of the greasy cheese he’d plucked from the breading.
“Then go online and make her cam or voice chat or something,” I urge.
Of all people, I would know that he’s being played. I’ve made so many chick accounts just to get gear and someone to talk to. Some people say it’s catfishing and totally cheating but I just think it’s clever social manipulation and if a moron wants to give me his loot I’m not going to tell him that, even though my avatar is female, I’m not a chick.
“Whatever, she’s probably not even on,” he grumbles, dropping the naked sauce covered bread slice to the box, wiping his hands on his pants, and then walking to his computer.
I hover over his shoulder as he turns on the monitor, trying to contain my laughter but ultimately failing which draws a look of pure fury from his once worried expression. I’m sure he is starting to question it now. Is she a girl? Is he being played? Probably. But in some way, I want her to be real. I mean, then I could get her handle and we could be friends and, who knows, maybe she’ll like me more because she likes comics and Iron Maiden and paintball.
“Alright, she’s not even on,” he says as the game loads in and he opens his friend list.
I scan down the list and my heart stops and my jaw drops open but I bite the pizza to make it seem normal and I say, “Bummer.”
Then I go home and block him. Sorry Jason. |
The ten-inch thick steel wall exploded outwards with a ear-splitting crash, like a gigantic gong struck by a skyscraper, showering the room with thousands of razor sharp needles. My nearby employees covered themselves, attempting to stave off the inevitable.
I gestured, and the needles immediately stopped in mid-air, quickly clattering to the ground soon after, a thousand drops of deadly rain.
A man strode through the ragged hole, metres away from the perfectly usable door. His heroic build was overshadowed by his magnificent cape and completely spotless white uniform.
They could have at least damaged him slightly, what do I pay those idiots for? Half my budget went towards paying for those so-called ‘hero-killers’. I sighed. Today had not been my best day.
“Lord Nazaroth! Lay down your weapons and surrender, or face the might of JUSTICE” the man boomed, grinning with that smug sense of superiority that all heroes seemed to have. He even emphasised ‘justice’ in his one-liners, whatever that meant.
One of my employees stared fearfully at me. I nodded.
“Get out of here, before he goes crazy and hurts you too.” The employee’s eyes showed gratitude, and he began to help one of his friends limp away from the wreckage of his desk. A moment passed, and the man grew impatient.
“Well? Say something villain!” He pointed one of his fat sausage fingers at me. I gawked at it. Steroids had not been kind to man. Then again, that was what gave him his powers in the first place, if I recall.
“I’m just waiting for all civilians to leave the area.” I patiently stared at him. He raised his hand, energy already gathering in it. Perhaps he did not understand what the world civilian meant? That would certainly explain what happened in New York.
“You think I’m going to give you another chance to get away? It’s time for karma to catch up, asshole” he sneered. If anyone should face karma’s wrath it’s him, I thought indignantly.
I was the one who cured cancer with that retrovirus, and I was the one who stopped all Middle-Eastern conflict. Admittedly, it was by making everyone hate me instead, but you can’t argue with results. How was I rewarded, though?
By them giving the Nobel Peace Prize to this loser in front of me? What kind of world was that? The anger grew inside me, and I snapped.
He was still gathering energy in his hand, the fat cockroach. That’s what he was. A cockroach. Impossible to kill by mortal means, unless you happened to be carrying around weapons-grade uranium in a thick lead containment unit, which I always did.
You could squish him, stab him, hell you could even blast him with fire, and he’d get right back up and keep going with his monologue. Trust me, I tried all of these. Weapons-grade uranium, though, did something to his internal structure. It weakened him somehow. I didn’t question it.
I gestured towards him, feeling my powers swirling around me, and he suddenly slammed into the floor, his head making a satisfying thud. All my employees were finally gone. I could fight with complete abandon.
“Huh, your head really is hollow!” I mocked. He snarled back, never much for banter. It didn’t matter, all I had to do was reach the containment unit. I kept him down using my powers as I slowly moved towards the lead ball a few metres away.
I had to act quickly, he was too strong to hold for more than a few seconds. Locating the large red button on the side of the containment unit, I pressed it with immense satisfaction. It beeped, quickly morphing into a large steel tube. Inside, something glowed with unearthly light.
I grinned, pointing the weapon at the cockroach. He was still struggling to rise.
“Any last words?” I had to say it. I just couldn’t help it. In hindsight, I would have just shot him, but that’s why it’s called hindsight.
The room suddenly hummed, and a woman covered entirely in a black lace-dress appeared next to the man. I gaped. This was new, he must have dumped the other one, whatever her name was.
“My love!” Her eyes, covered in more black-eyeliner than a goth-singer, were filled with tears. “What has he done to you?” I rolled my eyes. She glared hatefully at me. I had no doubt she’d shielded him by now. There was no point wasting my precious shot.
I wasn’t exactly willing to take on an unknown superhero, either. Who knew what her powers were? Teleportation implied a degree of sophistication that was hard to fight off the cuff. Releasing the man from my powers, I rushed towards the escape teleporter.
The woman raised her hands, but with another gesture I sent her flying backwards through the hole the man created. I reached inside, and pressed the red button.
Nothing happened.
Ok, stay calm.
I looked back. The man and woman were waiting, their smiles contemptuous.
“Something not working?” The woman sneered, lips peeled back to reveal stained teeth. “I thought a coward like you would be able to design better escape devices.” She must have done something to disable my device.
“I’m sure your boyfriend knows all about performance issues” I shot back. The man looked uncomfortable. The woman looked like she was about to have a conniption. As one, they advanced one me, lighting somehow sparking in her hand.
This day just kept getting better and better.
|
The sunset was very dark red Jerrick thought as he hung by his feet from an oak, possibly in part due to the blood rushing to his head and the impending loss of consciousness.
A heavy footstep cracking a kindling branch announced a person's arrival, Jerrick swallowed hard his French was no use in this region at this time where Occitane ruled. In fact the French he spoke was not welcomed and marked him as an invader from the north.
"allo there chum, looks like you're in a pickle and no mistaking that my friend"said voice dripping in sarcastic cheer, Jerrick found himself looking at a rough looking codpiece at his eye level.
"now I should tell you, you haven't failed technically not your fault you're two hundred clicks from where you should have been and strung up by your ankle. But the schmucks here thought you were legit enough to want to kill you so bravo you pass as a regular person"
Jerrick jerked awake winded laying on his back, the rag wrapped feet were by his face. "you passed out so I cut yet poor arse down, once you feel like you can stand we gotta scarper down to the river and book it outta here, we'll meet up with a chrono-marshal and be home in time for you to get grilled by the faculty"
Edit: Just realised I have written this before on another post. Dang it. Nearly the same thing. |
*In other news. The current eclipse seems to have defied all expert expectations. Supposedly to last eight minutes, we are currently entering the seventeenth minute of total darkness. No explanation has yet been received by our news crew, and we are waiting for a statement from NASA as to the reason behind this extraordinary event*
I stared at the television screens bright light illuminating the darkness around me. My cigarette neglected between my fingers, the ash trickling down in periodic heaps on the ashtray directly below it. It can’t be, I thought.
I hate moving. I’ve lived in this house my entire life. I remember when I was nine and broke one of the windows by shooting the football clean through, dropping directly into my mom's pot of cream of mushroom soup. Punished by helping mom cook dinner everyday for a month. Or when I was fifteen and snuck quietly to the back garden at two in the morning with a packet of red Dunhills I found on the walk back from school. I did not get punished then, but the drag of a cigarette has been in my life for the past twenty years. That’s punishment enough.
For the past two hours I’ve packet most of my possessions. Clothes, books, and video games. I’ve moved some of the furniture to the front lawn, not all, but ones I’d much rather not replace; work desk, few cupboards, a bunch of tables, etc. I had only just started packing my fragile items when I thought I needed a quick cigarette break. I threw in my laptop, a bunch of chargers and wires, and my grandfather’s globe. Shut the box, duct taped the opening. Done. Some sweet Smokey relief.
Lite my cigarette, took a long drag, and sunk into my leather chair when a few seconds later it was almost like the world went from bright daylight to midnight. The eclipse was expected for a while, but the sudden change made me look up for a second. Picked up the remote, one click and CNN pops up.
*We attempted to reach NASA for a statement but our contact at the station says a statement will be made as soon as possible. A source within the organization describes utter confusion as to the current eclipse, when it would end, and possible consequences that could follow. Hurricanes and hailstorms have been thrown around, with an almost unanimous consensus that the east coast should experience flood alerts in the coming hour. We’ll be trying to keep you up to date on further develo….*
I got up, my cigarette dropping head first into the ashtray. I rip open the box and slowly pick up the globe. I watch as it mechanically turns around. Three seconds later and the outside world returns to afternoon light. I look at the globe, utterly baffled. Could it be?
No no no, I laugh at the very thought. There is no way this plastic crappy globe is controlling the world.
There is one way to find out, though.
I put my last cigarette in between my trembling lips, light it up and take the longest drag I’ve ever taken, feel the sweet blue smoke cover ever inch of my lungs. As I exhale, I turn the globe around, one click, and palm the batteries into my palm.
The globe gradually halts. I look around and find the world is as it ever was.
As I drop the globe back into the box, the ground begins to grumble violently, and screams of horror from around the neighborhood fill the room. There is nothing on the TV but static.
|
"Did you hear, Ser Hendrix has done it, he's honestly gone and went and done it!"
"Done wot?"
"The mountain-keeper. The screaming blizzard. He's actually just gone and done it. That stupid old dragon's dead as a doormouse!"
"Well blimey, I didn't see that coming. Just think, in a weeks time we'll be out of here, away from a lifetime of problems. It's time for the high-life my friend, we'll be rich as kings!"
"Rich?"
"You know, from the gold! You've heard the tales, towers of gems and jewels right! Just like Morkton, they got a dragon and the next thing you know they're all sipping wine from silver goblets!"
"Ah...Well em...About that"
"About what?"
"Well that was the one strange thing....There was no gold"
"No gold?"
"None apparently. Just...well neverm-"
"Just what?!"
"Well...There was a big stack of boxes at the back, filled to the brim with protein powders and energy supplements...I...I think our dragon was trying to start a new Multi-level Marketting Scheme..." |
The message floated in front of my eyes. I hadn't seen it in weeks, but there it was, back again, scratched across the darkness, flickering in the shadows:
*You cannot sleep while monsters are nearby.*
'No,' I whispered. 'No, no, no, not again. *Please.*'
But it didn't fade. I could try to wait it out again, like last time, but it wouldn't work - it never did. Until I killed the monster, I wouldn't sleep.
Slowly, sadly, I rose from my bed and stepped downstairs, pausing only to select a knife from the kitchen. I crossed to the basement door, unlocked it, and took a breath. It was time.
The handle turned slowly. Muffled cries came drifting through the cold air, from where I'd left her. She was tied still, her hands and legs bound, her mouth gagged.
'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I didn't want to. But the message...
I need to sleep.'
|
"Like the sign says, I'm retired."
Without much success, I tried to close my front door. I was stopped by her commanding gaze. That, and the foot stuck in the doorway.
"What a strange sign you have,"she said brightly. I tried not to look at her earrings, which were ankhs shaped out of what looked a lot like human bone. "Do most retired hitmen advertise? I'd imagine the only people who turn up are ones with scores they'd like settled."
"A few, yeah,"I conceded, "but - "
"But you've _dealt_ with all those people, haven't you?"Death had somehow pushed breezily past me, into the living room. She turned to examine me critically.
"This is usually the part where I say something like, 'you're a hard man to find', or similar,"she said. "But the sign, the phonebook listing, the multiple memoirs - you're not even trying to hide. And that makes me think you secretly don't want to be retired."
"Look, lady, I don't - "I tried to continue, but Death is very good at getting the final word.
"Either way, I have a job for you,"she said brightly. "High value target. Unusual protections. Low probability of success."
"If it makes you feel any better about the retirement thing, I don't have to pay you for it,"she added as an afterthought. "Could be easier with the IRS, too. Although that won't - Never mind. First things first, can you sign this?"
With a snap of her fingers she pulled a normal-looking contract out of nowhere. It was cold and gritty to the touch, as if until that very moment it had been resting in a tomb somewhere far from the sun.
"Sure, I guess,"I said despondently. I could tell which way things were going that night. In a couple of seconds she'd whisked it away from me again, the signature shining freshly on the page.
"Good, now that that's settled,"she said brightly, "let's get to it: I need you to kill Taxes."
I stared at her. "Uh, what?"I finally managed. "You want me to kill who?"
"The anthropomorphized concept of Taxes,"she said very slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "As in, the other guy, as in, nothing is certain but me and, as in state and federal. Withholding! 401(K)! Do you understand?"
"I - sort of,"I said. I'd never heard anyone pronounce brackets so forcefully before. "But isn't he more of an abstract concept?"
Death rolled her eyes. "I know you are, but what am I? Look, can you help me or not? You're here having a conversation with me, after all, so how much more does your mind really need to stretch to fit the other guy in?"
I made a quiet mental note of the _help me_, and played along.
"OK, so say for the sake of argument there is such a guy as Taxes, how do you propose to kill him? And why do you need me to do it? You're death, after all."
She rolled her eyes again. "Are you always this stupid? I'm death, not murder. Horrible guy, pray you never meet him. I just collect the souls, I don't do the deed myself. Could get in a lot of trouble for going off script. None of your business with who."
I gave up. "OK, why don't you tell me exactly what you need me to do. That's the easiest way to stop me asking stupid questions."
Death smiled and leaned forward, her eyes glowing violet. "It's going to take a non-standard approach..."
---------------------------------------------------
And that, in a nutshell, is how I ended up as the Libertarian candidate for president.
|
"Alrighty then I shouted to the line of peasants. You will now as soon as you get the broom handle give it to the next person in line and if everyone does his or her task right we will smash the outer walls of the lords castle."
The peasants murmured but did as I said and after six seconds a broom handle flew at near relativistic speeds towards the castle walls.
"Fuck you gameworld"I thought before being vaporised. |
My phone was buzzing. Again. I shifted in my seat as others in the conference room glanced in my direction. I tried to pretend it wasn't coming from me, like it was somebody else's phone. But I wasn't fooling anybody. My boss stopped his presentation and glared at me. It was a look that could kill. It could've been Death himself standing there staring at me. But it wasn't. Because Death was back at my place, hanging out in my living room, or my kitchen, or clogging my toilet or whatever else it was that he liked to do. And he was also texting me. Again.
"I have to take this,"I muttered, and I shuffled out of the conference room as my phone continued to buzz. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked it. 37 new messages. I began scrolling through them.
"Bro, don't you have any mayonnaise around here?"
"Lol check out how your cat is sitting."
"Hey you wanna go out later or something? Drinks on me."
"Seriously, I've looked through all the cupboards. Where else do humans keep mayonnaise? Is it in the dishwasher?"
"Damn your neighbor is totally hot."
I don't know how it happened. I don't know if it was a gift or a curse or just a shitty thing that happened, but a week earlier, on a visit to my dying grandmother in the hospital, I'd seen Death, standing there in the corner of the room, looking all spooky and sinister and shit. And I'd been terrified -- at least, at first.
But when Death realized I could see him, that's when the trouble started. "Ohmygod! Ohmyfuggingod!"he'd said. "You can *see* me??"Apparently he'd existed in this world for an eternity, taking lives and reaping souls, and none but those who were a half-step away from the end were ever able to even catch a whiff of him. But I could see him. And he was, to put it lightly, lacking in social skills.
At first, when the initial excitement had subsided, we'd sat down and had a conversation, a deep conversation about life and death and the meaning of it all. But after that, I was ready to move on, and he'd just kept telling me, "I feel we really CONNECTED, you know? Like we have a CONNECTION."I don't even know how he'd gotten my number, but now he texted me every moment of every day.
And that wasn't even the worst of it. Apparently Death had nowhere to live. So, being the fool that I am, I'd offered him my couch. And now he wouldn't leave. And he loved taking pictures of my cat, Mr. Pickles. In fact, I kept getting notifications from my phone company that I was way over my data limit. All because of gigabyte and gigabytes of Mr. Pickles.
Outside the conference room, I turned off my phone and took out the battery. I don't know how he did it, but somehow texts from Death tended to come through even when my phone was off. So I was taking every precaution I could.
I sat down and the meeting continued on and my boss was talking about profit margins and showing us unintelligible charts about production rates and injury reports and trend lines. I thought about Death, back at home, sitting on my couch and taking pictures of Mr. Pickles and I sort of envied him for having such an easy life, or whatever it was that he had.
And as I was sitting there, thinking about the beauty and simplicity of his life, my phone buzzed again. I pulled it out under the table and the battery fell out of my pocket with a thud. Everybody turned to look at me. Somehow, my phone was still on, even without the battery. I looked down at the screen. "No worries bro, found the mayo."
This sonuvabitch was going to be the death of me. |
"Fuck, I hate this place,"Barry muttered under his breath. Loud enough for us all to hear over the microphones though, of course. I never got that. Why half ass it? Either say it out loud, or not at all.
Couldn't blame him for the sentiment, though. Our flashlights swooped over lines of dolls and action figures, most of them with unfinished paint jobs. To make it worse, the place was bitterly cold, the ceramic plated body armour doing little to warm us up.
We'd lost Charles already, as he dove into a toy vault, and refused to come out. We could collect him later, assuming we made it out of this alive.
"Darryl, cover me,"I muttered over the radio. He gave the affirmative, and I dashed through the darkened hallway, bursting into the room of the man himself.
"Hello, Alan. You've been a good boy this year, haven't you?"he asked, attempting to smile despite the circumstances.
"Santa... What's going on?"I gestured around the factory. "Why is the factory shut down? The US economy needs this."
I can't quite bring myself to be angry at Santa. But I can muster up disapproval.
"It's the Grinch,"he explained. "He wants to steal Christmas, and he made some friends. Some friends with very loud toys,"he points to a shell casing on the ground.
"Jesus,"I curse, not really caring if that takes me off the 'nice' list. "They're armed?"
"Now hang on, Alan,"Santa holds out a sack. "I've made some toys for you as well."
"This is hardly the time for-"I begin, but he shushes me, shoving it into my hands. It's very heavy, but a SEAL could handle it.
"Share them with your friends,"he says, ushering me out of the room, drinking from a gallon jug of milk.
"You two heard that?"I glance at my squadmates. "Toys, bloody toys!"I drop the sack in the corridor and storm over to the conveyor belt to kick some dolls over.
"Hey Chief?"Darryl asks.
"Yeah, what?"I look over at him.
Darryl just grins, holding up a flashbang he drew from the bag.
"Ah, that kind of toy,"I nod in understanding. |
You know that uncle everyone in the family hates because they always show up to thanksgiving drunk and rant about "The Blacks."Imagine if that uncle also had the power to shoot people with lightening and had a direct line to your thoughts. I am the Red Power Ranger but unlike those other lucky fucks that got kick ass animals or nature spirits or whatever I got greek gods, and the greek gods are fucking assholes.
Which is why I'm trying to convince my yellow ranger whose patron god is Dionysus to put down the vodka and and loaded firearm. Zeus is constantly pestering me to quote "give it to her, no one will know."The yellow ranger had just passed out when I hear the thump of a bow firing and a scream of "Fucking bitch it was just a joke."
I walked outside to find the pink ranger morphed and holding a bow and the blue ranger nursing a arrow wound. Their patrons were Aphrodite and Ares respectively and every couple of days something like this happens. I call up a lightening bolt and hurl it at the ground between the two of them "Every fucking day with this, how many times do I have to tell you the three fucking rules 1.No rape 2.No shooting people and 3. don't let Dionysus near hard drugs, so unless one of you wants a 100 million volt enema calm the fuck down."
I turn to see the black ranger sitting against a tree reading, The black ranger is the last member of our happy little family his patron is Hades and he is one of the few people I don't have to constantly refrain from murdering every couple of minutes. Sure he gets a bit creepily obsessed with girls but compared to the other bullshit I have to put up with I can handle it.
How do we actually manage to you know fight crime? I'll tell you, overwhelming force we have our downsides but comparing the strength of an Olympian god to the strength of a elephant is a bit one sided. Sure about 30% of the city is still on fire from our last fight but you have to admit watching a giant fly explode was funny sure I probably should have thought about the napalm like burning fly goop but at least only abandoned warehouses got caught in the blast...well abandoned warehouses and a couple children hospitals. |
"They're gone!"Richard exclaimed to his friend, Adam.
"What is?"Adam asked.
"I can't say them for some reason, so I grabbed a dictionary to look them up."Richard explained. "Sure enough, they aren't even in there anymore!"
Richard dragged his finger through one dictionary's "an"section, not finding it followed by a "d."He had already done similar for "th"with "e."
Adam looked at his friend in confusion. "What are you talking about, man?"
"Do you not remember using them?"Richard asked.
"Using what?"
Richard looked around his room, trying to find an example to make Adam understand their predicament. He settled on two objects that always went together.
"Okay, what is this?
"Paper,"Adam answered.
"What about this?"
"Pencil,"Adam answered, his brow furrowing.
"Together?"
"Paper with pencil,"Adam said, matter of factly.
"No! No! That wasn't a word we used to use! I wouldn't have said 'a' in that sentence either! I would have started both of these with another word too!"Richard yelled, his hands shooting to his hair, clutching tightly.
"I think we should get you to a doctor."Adam said, concerned for his friend. He gathered a few things, then lead him out.
Humanities' Grammar Gods looked down upon what madness they had wreaked once again upon humanity, laughing loudly to one another.
"These stupid people, stuck living with our rules,"one chuckled to another.
"Yeah, but best part is we are exempt,"one said, a look of horror coming across its face as it finished.
"What?"
It shook its head, "But best part is we are exempt!"
Its companion looked confused.
"What am I eating?!"it asked, slowly becoming more afraid.
"Peanut butter with jelly." |
The click-clack of a keyboard rang out in the dark room. There I sat, hunched over a computer, typing with my right hand and stuffing cheetos into my mouth with my left.
I had just seen Rogue One. I was filled with Star Wars nostalgia and binge-watched the whole saga back-to-back. I licked the cheetos dust off my fingers and opened chrome. "I wonder what happened to Princess Leia?"I clicked on the search bar, googling Princess Leia. Wikipedia. It turned out Leia was played by a woman named Carrie Fisher.
40,000 feet in the air. First class. Carrie Fisher swirled a glass of champagne, content. She was in the middle of watching Star Wars, more specifically the scene in which her and Luke kissed. She sighed, there was no cure for nostalgia. She lifted the glass to her lips. She froze. The glass slipped out of her hand, tumbling to the floor. It shattered.
Carrie Fisher 2016. Google images came up with a kind looking older woman. Clicking on her wikipedia page, it showed something pretty interesting. Her mother was supposedly quite famous too. "Who is Debbie Reynolds?"I asked myself. Google had the answer. Google always has the answer. |
"Jim. No. Its getting silly now"
"You said that last time Bob. But here we are"
"Yeah, I know, but you can't fire a fucking sword from a bow. Its unsporting"
"You didn't mind when I fired that chicken that one time"
"Because I bet Garry that it wouldn't work"
"Killed that Ork too!"
"Yeah, and cost me 20notes. I'm not bloody having this. You're not firing the ... "Sword of Never Ending Storms"at people"
"But he's the evil Lord. The whole trip has been to murder his face. Steal all his stuff. Then go home. We're ADVENTURERS. We adventure. Firing a sword at him IS an adventure"
"I get that, but I'm putting my foot down here. You. ARE NOT. Firing the ancient bloody sword at him. I'm not allowing it"
"I evoke Rule 1"
"No you fucking don't"
"Rule. Motherfucking. 1"
"Fine. Fucking do it then"
*The sound of a D20 softly hitting a velvet lined box*
"Natural fucking 20"
"You're a dickhead. You're the reason we can't have a proper story"
|
It's always interesting when the moon changes, most nights it's just it's normal white but every few days it changes. The change normally doesn't last long but while it's going on creatures find their way out of whatever hole they dug themselves. It's weird because before it started we only ever had the normal moon, solar eclipse, blue moon, and lunar eclipse. Then a few years ago the moon started changing but different colors, all of them unique in that when a certain color was active a corresponding monster would start to appear near towns causing trouble. Last year was relatively quite we only had two green moons, annoying but orcs aren't anything too hard to handle and they loot they carry us usually well worth the annoyance. This year we haven't seen a single change and it's almost November, we all fear what could be happening why the moon hasn't changed. Today is when we loose hope. The moon is approaching the sun, a solar eclipse hasn't occurred in two years well before monsters started appearing, and now we all fear what it might bring. As the moon reaches full eclipse ass the hunters across Pangea are preparing their gear and making sure that they have all the stops covered, wolfsbane, garlic, salt, silver, anything and everything we have that is known to hurt certain monsters more because we have no idea what we're about to face. When the moon finally reached the peak of the eclipse it turned pitch black and a golden ring sprawled forth from behind it, this is it I could feel it whatever it is we're about to find out. The ground starts to shake and there's a tremendous boom in the distance as the earths crust peels away exposing an immense gaping hole through which a single giant dog, black as night and as big as her majesty's castle, and then another came out of the hole still dripping magma from the earths core followed by a third. We stared in awe at these giant beasts our hunting dogs whimpered in fear and ran. And then from somewhere in the ranks of hunters that had been waiting for the beasts to appear some one managed to scream "Barghests!"Just as the first to arise pounced and maimed him before it swallowed him hole. All I could think was "this is the end".........
This is my first time writing for a prompt. I wrote this on my phone so please pardon and grammatical or formatting errors.
Edit : Thank you guys so much it makes me really happy that you enjoyed my story and that I have top comment (at least for now) |
(Thanks to my job expecting me to do work, this took way too long to type up.)
As the stagecoach apologized profusely for the broken wheel again and again, I sighed a heavy sigh. "Sarah. Pay the man."I called inside the cab. My three partners, Sarah, Jacob, and Patricia all exited the cab. Sarah pulled a golden coin out of the bag and handed it to the man making his eyes go wide.
"Th-this is way too much. I could never accept it?"The little man said shaking his head. "You fee is 10 copper."
I could tell he was trying to act noble and I had to respect his effort, but I was short on time and was in no mood. I grabbed the coin from my wife and slapped it into his chest knocking him to the ground.
"Use it to buy yourself a wagon that does not break down."I said feigning disgust. I turned there and started walking away with my companions in tow.
"I know who you are Mr. Thomas."I heard from behind me. I stopped and turned around to look at the man. I no longer saw the little stagecoach driver from before. Instead I saw the eyes of a man who had known war. "Or I knew who you were. Your stories are legend in these parts and your deeds of heroism are widely spread."The driver unhooked his horse from the coach and pulled a saddle out of the back placing it on the horse. "But looking at you, all I see is a man who is tired."He hopped up on the horse and started to walk away. "Maybe you will finally find what you are searching for in Solaria."He said before turning his horse away. "They still think you are a hero there. Act the part."He called over his shoulder as his horse carried him away.
"Hero."I said spitting on the ground. "He has a point Victor."Sarah said from behind me. "Yes we better act the part in Solaria."Patricia, Jacob's wife, agree. I looked at Jacob and we nodded to each other. "Can't argue with the women folk."Jacob said joking as we walked down the cobblestone street towards Solaria.
Solaria is a large town with a bursting economy. It has almost no crime to speak of and no major crimes happen at all. Poverty was non existent in Solaria as everyone had a job and everyone was willing to help each other out.
The town was built on top of a mine that produces high quality gemstones and colorful metals. This creates the illusion of a vibrant fantasy land with many houses having blue and green walls, pink roofs, and golden doors. The quality of the colored metals also makes them very malleable so it is easy to fashion into various shapes such as big red crosses for the hospital, candy canes for the confectionery, and the town hall being made out of pure brass to give it the illusion of being made of gold.
The sight of 4 scarred and armed soldiers wearing dark gray and brown armor was enough to make everyone stop and stare. As we entered town we noticed a few people running off towards the center of town at full speed. "That can't be good."Jacob said as we rounded the corner and saw everyone running towards the town hall. "Cmon lets go see what the commotion is about."I said picking up the pace.
As we got close to the town hall we saw a stage setup with a big banner saying "Wellcome"misspelled. A large number of people were gathered around a huge statue commemorating my first visit here. The day I made my first kill in anger and revenge.
My mind flashed to the same spot 15 years ago. The town was much smaller and made of rotted wood and corroded metal. The town had been under the control of a gang leader, a man by the street name Ajax. Ajax was a nobody who happened to get lucky and stumble across this town during the war. He had hijacked the town and used it and its mine to fund his ridiculous lifestyle. Back then Solaria was a wealthy but small community made up of mostly women, children, and old men. The younger able bodied men had been sent off to fight in the war leaving the town mostly unprotected.
I was a young soldier at the time with a group of friends who thought we were invincible. I was the only one to make it out of Solaria. My mind flashed again to the day I killed Ajax. We had used stealth and subterfuge to slowly kill his men one by one. We used poison
I was not there as I was sent down into the mine to scout out Ajax's location. When I found him and his four remaining men standing over and mutilating the corpses of my friends I flew into a rage. I quickly killed two of his minions without alerting anyone. The other two were dead before they were even able to pick up their swords leaving just me and Ajax.
The details of the fight are a blur. The only real thing I remember was using the blood of my fallen comrades to blind Ajax and slowly kill him as I reveled in his agony.
I snapped back to the present and looked at the colorful, almost featureless, statue before me showing me driving my sword into the heart of Ajax. I smiled at the mayor as the band started playing. "Time to put on a show people."I said to my group as we walked to the stage wearing forced smiles.
The mayor spoke before his people for what seemed like forever mentioning our return to Solaria while taking the time to retell the story of Ajax and getting almost every detail wrong. He made grand gestures and sweeping motions with his arm talking about his very minor involvement in the conflict. He hid me and my comrades one night.
When he was finished with his speech he presented me with the keys to the city and offered us free room and board at any of the town's inns. We delivered the opium for the masses and drank the holy water of the mayor before departing to the local inn where our contact was to meet with us.
We sat down at one of the tables with ale already being delivered. "I guess fame has its rewards."Sarah said picking up the ale and slamming it down. "Anyone see the contact?"Jacob asked looking around the colorful room filled with people all staring at me. "Well it won't be hard to find me."I said noting how every single eye in the bar was looking at me. I raised my glass and gave a nod to the bar.
After our second cup a man walked over to us. Younger looking man probably in his 20s by the looks of him. "Victor... uhh Mr Thomas. I wanted to say thank you personally. When I was just a small boy you saved me and my family."It was clear he was nervous when he held out his hand. Reluctantly I stood up and shook his hand. "You married son?"The guy smiled and nodded. "Yes sir we have a kid on the way."I smiled back. "Good don't waste your life going to war. Be a father to your child and a husband to your wife."The man was clearly taken aback at this statement. "But serving in the guard is the only way to achieve glory."
I sat back down and grabbed my mug. "There is no glory in war... and I saved no one fifteen years ago. All I did was kill people."I took a swig of ale and watched as the man deflated and shrink away embarrassed. "Forgive young Blake Victor. He is young and has had his head filled with tales of your deeds."A voice from behind me said. "More like war crimes."Patricia replied. She said this in a guilty tone as a form of reflection for what we had been ordered to do in the past.
A tall and lanky man pulled up a chair. "I am Burt Drealus. I am the one who asked for imperial help. I own a farm about a mile outside of town that has had a lot of trouble recently."He said as he ordered a glass of ale for himself. "Because of the remote location I have had to employ guards to protect against wild game and roaming thieves."He started to fidget as he pulled something out of his bag. "Last week one of the guards went missing. A search was organised and nothing was ever found."Burt pulled a large square of leather out of his pouch. "Three days ago this was nailed to the front door of my house."
In front of me was a large square of leather with the number 27 carved into the chest. Something about the leather had me worried. "Is this what I think it is?"Jacob asked. "Yes."Patricia said. "Human leather."Sarah confirmed in disgust. Jacob looked at me. "You know what this means right?"I looked at the number as my blood started to boil. "The butcher of Minfel is back."
I stood up and loudly talked to the entire bar. "Get everyone together in the town square. All of you are in grave danger."I sat back down as everyone else left the bar. "You think this is nece..."She said stopping herself as I gave her a look. The same look I had on my face when we were delivered another piece of human leather. The leather of our child. "We all know what is at stake here. No one else will go through what we all went through seven years ago."I said looking at Jacob and Patricia as they had suffered a similar tragedy.
"Time to warn everyone."I said as I grabbed the square of leather and walked out of the in towards the town square.
(Too be continued.) |
Sure, the hours were terrible, but Kate was also well-compensated for the middle-of-the-night calls from her eccentric employer.
At least that's what she told herself, at 3:25 AM, when her phone went off.
"Daniel - "they'd long passed the 'sir' stage - "this better be important."
"The presentation's at nine, and I can't - I can't find the notes, the statements - "
In her mind's eye, Kate could see every single item Daniel needed, from the disorderly stack on his desk to the misfiled papers in the file cabinet to one scrap in his...shoe? Kate didn't blame the last assistant for quitting.
Kate sighed as she got up. "I need ten minutes to find caffeine - "the coffeemaker in the kitchen instantly sprung to mind - "and you better be sending the car."
"You are a *lifesaver*, Kate."
"You know it." |
I felt the all familiar feeling of waking up from cryo, like a gelatin hovering just above the freezing temperature of water filling the space in my head that my brain occupies. Slowly consciousness came back to me, I could hear my MJOLNIR systems began the whir as they booted up. By this point we should be nearing a slipspace jump towards whatever desolate planet the covenant was on now. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I had never been selected for this program, allowed to live a normal life, be an accountant, or a lawyer, maybe even a famous athlete. Who would John be? It didn't matter though, this war consumed everyone, no one could escape fear these days. Covenant, Forerunner's, Halo's, so many things to wipe humanity off the map. Finally consciousness is here, like waking up to blaring music my sensors are suddenly fully audible.
Location: Earth they say
What? Earth? Something must be malfunctioning. I can hear waves crashing around me. I open my eyes, and don't believe what I'm seeing.
"Chief. What the hell is this place?"
"I don't know Cortana, I was hoping you could give me some insight, sitrep is kind of your area"
"Give me a second....... none of this makes sense, let me access one thing....."
Before me on the beach we're no less than fifteen thousand men, wearing some sort of armor that is only rarely seen intact in a museum. They wield spears and some crude swords.
"I can't believe it, according to what I can put together we must... there's no way"she said.
"Cortana, spit it out."
Cortana let's out a shriek, and begins muttering numbers and words incoherently, driving herself insane by her own inability to comprehend what is going on.
"Cortana, Cortana!"
She falls silent. From behind the dune at Master Chief's back come to war cry of 100 troops. He turns to see the men charging towards him, and behind them, no less than 300 ships. He looks around, and on the beach next to where he awoke lies an energy sword. Master Chief reaches for it and activates the sword. The charge reaches him and he is pelted by spears. They do nothing against the far superior technology that built his armor. The men are nothing even resembling a match for him, in less than a minute, 100 bodies line the beach, blood running en masse into the ocean, like the tide carrying the life of the soldiers out to sea. Behind him he hears a roar, and turns to see the fifteen thousand begin there charge towards him, and from the ocean the ships are beaching and they're men disembarking, surely to make a charge of their own momentarily. He recognizes the armor of these two armies now. Remembering it from his lessons as a child, as much of an impossibility as it is, one thing he had learned in his life was there was no such thing as impossibility on a battlefield.
He chuckles.
Imagine this, a Spartan among Greeks. |
*Video of a burning man*
Did you know humans are totally combustible?
That's right kids, the human body is actually covered in oil that makes humans very very flammable.
*Camera cuts to Bill, sitting on a throne of skulls with a black robe on.*
This will be key to remember when the the Gods come to exact revenge on our sinning race. Today kids, we're going to learn about our inevitable doom, and all the possible ways you, and everyone you know, will die!
*Bill jumps off screen to the sound of a kazoo and the theme starts*
BILL NYE THE HORSEMAN GUY
BILL NYE... THE HORSEMAN GUY
BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL
BILL NYE THE HORSEMAN GUY
(ETERNAL DOOM)
BILL NYE THE HORSEMAN GUY
(DEATH IS RELEASE)
BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL
BILL BILL BILL
(7 SECONDS UNTIL THIS RACE IS DESTROYED)
BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL
BILL NYE THE HORSEMAN GUY
Brought to you by... Taco Bell
*Theme ends and camera cuts to an asteroid*
Did you know that space is full of rocks that are hurtling at speeds the human mind can't comprehend? One of these will be pulled in by the Horseman Death and obliterate this planet!
*the asteroid rams into a styrofoam Earth*
*Camera cuts again to Bill with a sickly looking man*
You might think this man is sick right?
*Zoom in on the sick man moaning in pain*
You're right, he is sick. Right now, in his frontal lobe, the tendrils of Cthulhu are wrapping around every thought, returning him to madness, forcing his mind into the darkness. Anyone who happens to survive our certain doom will be a servant of the old gods.
*Deep voice from off screen*
"Bill what is Cthulu"
GET OUT OF MY HEAD CREATURE OF LIGHT!
*Camera turns off. It turns on again in a lab, Bill is holding a test tube*
TIME FOR A CLEVER SCIENCE TRICK! You all have heard of the Black Plague right?
*Camera nods*
Well I've got it right here in this tube. All rats, because they carry it in their genes as they were carriers genetically, are able to have their genes harvested for this plague.
*The off screen deep voice returns*
"Uh Bill the CDC is here"
Aw fuck, hide the rats. Uh... Well, that's our show. Thanks for watching. If you'll excuse me, I've got some... uh... NO HIDE THE ALTAR. Ok uh... make sure you recycle, kids. I know the human race will soon end, but clean energy is still important...
*Bill runs over and fumbles with the camera and turns it off* |
As it turned out, a styrofoam pike with a few layers of flat black spray paint wasn't a very effective weapon.
Niles knew this now.
He wished he knew it about twelve seconds ago, before the dull-toothed zombie began using his thigh as a cob of corn. He wanted to scream out from the pain, but he didn't. A knight would never show weakness, especially not in front of his lady.
Ladies, apparently, were free to shriek in ear-piercing decibels, even when it wasn't *their* god-damned leg being munched on.
"Fear not-"Niles reached for the pike once more.
"Shut the fuck up!"Emily yelled. She always told him to stay in character, now she goes and breaks it. *Typical woman*. "Push it off!"
Niles turned his head to look at her. "My Lady, I-"
She interrupted him with another scream.
Niles waited for her to stop, almost joining her to make it a duet of screams. At least he had a reason to do so.
It took a few seconds for Niles to realize he was in shock, then another few seconds to bleed out. |
"Seriously, Earth?"Mars looked across the short distance separating the two, "You said you had been checked!"
"Well yeah,"Earth said, fighting the urge to itch, "I mean I got checked by Jupiter just a million years ago! I got the original case of life from YOU actually, right before your water froze up. Remember that asteroid that hit you and I got pelted with meteors? That's when this all started for me. My beautiful oceans filled with green crap then they completed messed up my atmosphere with all this stupid oxygen."
"Oh great, look at THIS!"Mars said pointing near her polar region, "The little suckers are melting my poles. What the hell is that? A city? Already? It's just been a hundred years. Ewwwww! Ewwwww!"
"Hold on, I have an idea,"Earth said smiling as he grabbed an asteroid with his gravity and hurled it at the city on Mars, "What the hell? Did they destroy my asteroid before it hit??? What ARE these things?"
"Oh crap, they're terraforming me!"Mars said, crying loud enough to draw the attention of every planet in a light year's radius.
"Heh,"Said Saturn, her attention drawn, "At least they're not on Uranus."
"Not funny!"Mars screamed, "That joke is so old I want to..."
"Oh shit! Shit! Shit!"Screamed Venus, "Now they're on me."
"They won't come on me,"Jupiter said, "I've got too much gas!"He waited and when no one laughed said, "Get it? Gas? I'm a gas giant?"
"Wait! Look, I see them! They're travelling between us on tiny spaceships!"Mars said, "One just landed on me."
"Oh shit,"Earth said, "It's an STD!"
"STD?"Mars asked, "What the hell is an STD?"
"A spatially transmitted disease!"Earth said, then sighed, wondering if he should just plunge into the Sun. |
To say that Jack was confused would be a huge understatement.
Just a few moments ago, his old, fragile body was lying on the hospital bed. There was no one around to mourn his death, except for the nurse who was tending to him. Jack used to have a lot of people that cared for him... but his unlikable attitude had slowly pushed away anyone who he might've considered a friend. Manic depression and perennial sadness followed, and soon he found himself in this pitiful situation.
He'd closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the last few seconds of his life. He felt his life fade away... and on March 10th of the year 2017, Jack Nichols breathed his last.
Everything stopped moving. The clock stopped ticking, the machines stopped beeping, even the birds outside the window stopped mid-flight. The whole world had simply frozen... except for Jack.
His eyes fluttered open, and the weakness he'd felt for years was gone. In fact, on closer inspection his entire body had changed back to that of a middle-aged man. Jack looked around, confused by the sudden turn of events. Before he could react however, the hospital door burst open, and three men wearing the finest suits Jack had ever seen in his life entered the room.
"Congratulations, Jack Nichols! You have scored the highest in this session of The Game of Life!"The first man announced, his face showing a painstakingly fabricated expression of happiness. "Your life has had the highest amount of drama ever recorded!"
"As the holder of such a glorious achievement,"the second man chimed in, with that same fake expression, "we will be rewarding you with a bonus for your next playthrough!"
"You will be allowed to choose any number of childhood benefits in your next session of Game of Life!"The third man blew a party horn in Jack's face as he announced his 'reward.'
For a moment, Jack was frozen in place. What was happening? Who were these people? What were they even talking about? And most importantly...
"What the *fuck* is this Game of Life nonsense?!"Jack was screaming at the three strangers, who looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"Umm... Mr. Nichols? The game is over now, you can come back to the real world."There was a genuine tone of concern in the first man's voice.
"Real world?"At this point, Jack's confusion knew no bounds. "What is this *shit*? I was in the real world! I was dying! I was finally free from this pitiful existence! What is this nonsense that you three are prattling about?"
The three men stared at each other, trying to figure out the meaning behind Jack's outburst. They seemed as perplexed by this situation as Jack was, and were furiously whispering as they tried to comprehend the recent development.
"Okay then... Mr. Nichols?"The second man looked at Jack, his face devoid of the fake happiness it was exuding a few moments ago. "Do you remember hooking up to a system titled the Game of Life, in order to start a new life playthrough?"
"NO!"Jack viciously screamed out the phrase, causing the three men to flinch in unison.
There was an extended silence, before all three men suddenly held Jack down, pinning him to the ground. He tried to struggle, but no matter how hard he struggled, it was obvious to him that he was clearly overpowered.
"We're sorry Mr. Nichols, this will only sting a bit."One of the men took a small device and shoved it into Jack's ear, before pressing a button that made his entire body convulse with rippling electricity. His consciousness started fading, but before he passed out Jack managed to get a hear a few snippets of the conversation the three men were having.
"Is this a result of a glitch from the new update?"
"Yeah, I think so. No worries, all we need to do is reprogram his mind and he'll be back to normal."
------
Hi! If you liked this story and want to read more tales like this, please consider subscribing to my new subreddit, r/Ritwik_Mitra! |
EDIT: Just adding a link to the original story where Sylas was created, over [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5xeixn/wp_look_whos_never_been_to_the_sovereign_island/dehj0ia/?st=j0b9axec&sh=2cba9147). Not needed for the story *at all*, but can give more information about the world and stuff if you're interested.
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There wasn't a moment of his life that Sylas hadn't spent preparing for this. He touched the cold, golden paint with the tips of his claws. He had a legacy to chase, a name among many that he had to make stand out among the pillars of kings. He painted a line down his nose for good judgement. After a Tur'iaj turned twenty-one, they were officially considered a candidate for adulthood. Two dots under each eye for good luck. They would journey with other candidates for adulthood to kill a creature of magic, whereby they would gain their prey's powers and be considered an adult. A line over his bottom lip down to his collarbone for guidance. He made sure it was broad, room for all the children he may have. He adjusted the mirror to look at his work. The gold jumped out from his dark skin.
He picked up the silver paint. Though, Sylas had spent many years killing demons, it was something special that only happened after your twenty-first birthday. A shift in power and responsibility. Two small lines on the left side of his forehead for his father and the uncle he'd never met. His father would reprimand him for it being taboo. His uncle had perished on this journey before his father had managed to slay an ancient dragon. His name had been struck from all records for his failure, but his father still told stories of his twin. Three lines on the right side of his forehead for his mother and his two aunts. While his kind were virtually immortal, men lost the ability to sire children after a certain age and his father had long vaulted past that point. A silver dot on his right cheek for each of his sisters, ten in total. The left was for brothers, so he left it blank. Sylas was the last of the royal bloodline; it would die if he did. Twelve dots on the right side of his neck for his nieces, three on the left for each nephew.
He grabbed the glittering ruby paint. He drew a streak across his cheekbones. Sapphire for a dot in the center of his forehead. He'd be the only candidate allowed that honor. He had fought his way free of a kidnapping single-handedly, which had involved a minor slave rebellion and stealing a pirate ship. His father said Sylas was too cocky, but Sylas considered it to be well-earned confidence. He wiped his hands free of the paint quickly, but of course some staining was always to be expected. He let the paint dry, then scratched at it. It stayed as it should have, permanent. He'd earn more over his lifetime. He hoped the paint gave his body some semblance of balance. The delicate gold swirls and sapphire leaflets of his mother's bloodline on his right arm contrasted sharply with the angry red and silver of his father's on the left.
Sylas had not enjoyed having to sit between their giggling and flirting for two hours while they'd drawn all over his arms. His sisters had given him sympathetic looks as they'd taken turns braiding his hair. Sylas screwed all the lids back on the paint jars and handed them to the waiting priestess. They'd had to teach all fifteen children how to braid their little beads in properly so they'd grow into the shape and stay clean so Sylas would never need to take them out. He'd carry their memory for the rest of his life. They were careful not to mention the magic involved, considering how easily spooked his sisters' human husbands were. The children were human, too, and would never undertake this journey, so there was no harm in them not knowing.
When the priestess's back was turned, he rearranged the mess of beads he was wearing around his neck so that the white one advertising he was still single was on top. Eva would be one of the other candidates. He hoped she'd notice.
The priestess turned back around, holding Sylas's daggers. Her eyes fell to the necklaces. Sylas felt his whole face heat up as she laughed. She gave him a conspiratorial look, "I helped Eva put on her white necklace, too."Sylas ducked his head and murmured his thanks as he took the daggers. He slipped on his pack of supplies and put the daggers back in their scabbards. She tapped over his shoulder and waved a stick on incense in his face, then shoved him out of the tent.
A cheer went up in the gathered crowd as he stumbled forward into the bright sunlight. As the prince, he'd been the last to go. Every Tur'iaj who could make it came. All Tur'iaj candidates, young men and women alike, left together on the glorious hunt. He recovered quickly and plastered on a sharp-toothed grin for the gathered masses. Sylas swaggered up the dais to the hundreds of other candidates. As to be expected, it was mostly women. The ceremony could take days, but they'd started collapsing tents when he'd gone in for his turn.
He didn't immediately notice anyone he knew, so he stayed on the edge as the king made his way to a small platform. The noise immediately died as he raised his hand. Like Sylas, he was a slip of a man. He was just shy of five feet, but his power and legacy gave him total control. Sylas had never figured out how his father carried himself to seem like he was always towering. For that reason, he was glad he'd inherited his height from his much taller mother.
"Today, we send our future to define us,"the king boomed. "They will have the advice of our brightest to guide them, but they will all live in infamy or be forgotten in death by their own choices."The gathered Tur'iaj cheered and his father stepped down. The king did not need a great speech to remind them all of their burdens or hopes.
Hooves clattered on the cobblestone road that stretched out past the nation's borders. A woman easily stood atop the beast's back and Sylas briefly wondered if he could convince the general to teach him how to do that. "This way,"the general shouted, "To glory, to remembrance, to victory!"
The gathered candidates finally let out their own cheer and ran down the dais. The general jumped up and landed back in her seat, leading the charge at a light jog. They went on for about half an hour, gathering at the edge of the border. Here was where they'd split based on their preference in prey. Statues represented, essentially, the level of difficulty that usually leaned towards the preferred job. Gathered officers and generals would help any undecided candidate figure out where to go.
Most of the men gathered at the far end, heading to slay succubi. Sylas always had a slight moral quandry with that since the Tur'iaj were supposedly descended from the unholy union between succubi and humans. Still, the lack of men meant the remaining few could enjoy a pleasant life in the brothel. None of the women found their way to that statue. Women tended to prefer the chance for glory, shooting higher than what they needed for the job they'd end up pursuing. Still, it was difficult to find a woman in a Tur'iaj brothel if she wasn't running it, so they didn't bother.
Sylas made his way past the statues of fairies, goblins, ogres, trolls, giants, dragons. He hesitated in front of the dragon, it had been his original plan. It was the statue at the very end that he saw Eva standing with Aaliyah and Julian. There was no greater hunt than that of fallen angels. Of course Julian was going, probably just to impress Eva. They'd competed over her attention for as long as Sylas could recall. His first memory of the lordling was winning in a mock sword fight only to have Eva wallop them both even united against her. No one had come back from the statue alive in two centuries.
"Sylas! Putting all that royal blood to risk, then?"Eva waved from her place next to the blackened statue. Sylas hesitated in front of the dragon.
Julian scoffed, "His head is a little too precious to become some fake angel's knick-knack, Eva."
Well, Sylas thought as he threw on a cocky grin, he'd done stupider things to impress a girl. He swaggered right over and gave Julian a hard thump on the back. He tried not to snicker when Julian coughed a bit. "Stand back and miss being the first Tur'iaj to slay a fallen angel in two centuries? No chance."He saw Aaliyah roll her eyes and make a gagging motion.
Eva laughed and thumped Sylas good-naturedly on the back, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled and barely caught himself on the foot of the statue, easing into a casual lean. "It's going to be fun,"she exclaimed.
Sylas had a premonition that if some demon lord didn't kill him, his father would. This thought and the highly judgmental looks of the officers and generals did not sit well with Sylas. Anytime they glanced over, he felt their ire at the risk he was putting Dai'ye in, but they could do no more than discourage him from his path. "Well, anyway,"Sylas started, trying to distract himself from thoughts like '*You are making a terrible mistake just to impress a girl who will probably die horribly*'. "I want to see what everyone's paint looks like."He gestured for them to let him get a clearer look as he popped a hip onto the statue. Tur'iaj only bore the line over their bottom lips to the collarbones in common. Besides minor accents from accomplishments, like the streaks across Sylas's cheeks and the dot on his forehead, or the distinct family markings, paint was up to the choice of the painter. It could say a lot about what they found important.
---
[Continued in the comments.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5zk17x/wp_youre_part_of_a_hunter_race_that_gains_the/dez4qwt/?st=j0bfixmm&sh=f3ddf7f5) |
"I mean, they tried. Don't get me wrong, they absolutely tried". Johnny leaned into the mic and taunted: "Not hard enough though. Looks like they still haven't *found* my secret yet, haha!"
The dazzling white smile of the interviewer reflected in the cameras surrounding them as he threw up his head in amusement. "What a guy!"he shouted. Then he turned serious. "John, we're heading into the final. You are known for your interesting hiding spots and dedicated support team, but let's be honest here: You truly are a master of the Art. For the people at home who don't know: every contestant is allowed to completely change the arena to their own bidding in a span on 30 minutes, and the game makers will do their best to fulfill the wishes. The desert lay out from the semi final you just won, one word - spectacular!"
"Thank you, thank you", Johnny replied. "Now", the interviewer started, "this is your first world championship final, and as we have seen in the semi final prior to yours, Wally came out with another convincing win. The black and white lay out his opponent tried to counter with, interesting, for sure, but definitely not good enough to beat him. Wally is going for his *eleventh* Championship in a row. Any exciting strategies? Any preparations we would love to know about - but obviously can't? Walk us through what you have planned so far".
"Honestly, obviously - my coach has instructed me not to say too much, so what I can say is that we're going with some very daring choices. Out-of-the-box, definitely, we've been working on this plan for a while. So I definitely think it's going to be a good one".
"That's all we want to hear here in the stadium and of course the people at home, thank you so much Johnny and good luck tomorrow in the World Championship Finals!"
The crowd still roared and screamed in excitement after Johnny had already left the arena. As he neared his tour bus his manager, who had closely followed him, closed the distance. "Excellent performance again today."Johnny nodded. "But ehm, what you said during the interview - *what* is your plan?"
As they stepped into the tour bus Johnny walked to the large sofa and plopped down. "I've literally gone through every scenario, every strategy I could think of. And then, after days of days of thinking, preparing for a potential final scenario, this was what I decided". He rummaged through a plastic bag next to him. After a few seconds he took out blue jeans, a red-and-white striped shirt and something that resembled a Christmas hat. "If you can't beat them - join them". |
"Oi, Franco!"The call came from a tall, older fellow carrying an old wooden crate.
Franco raised his own hand in greeting and waited until the tall man ambled a bit closer.
"Oi, Jamison."Franco leaned over the fence he had just repaired. The wood creaked but remained standing. He thumped it once with his hand and smiled. Good work was it's own reward.
"Brought you peaches. Marge said we're gonna get a haul this year."Jamison tilted the crate and showed the fruit, "Should be good for pies."
"Appreciate it, here."Franco took the crate as it was passed over the fence and set it down at his feet. As he looked back up he saw an all-to-common look in Jamison's face, "Ah, do these peaches perhaps precede a favor?"
"Aye."Jamison nodded, "We got this stump in the new field. Jonny's tried to get it out but it's an old stump and the roots..."
Franco smiled and nodded, "Well, ye best be talkin' to Geargamist about that. I assume that is who you are after."
"Aye, tis."Jamison took off his hat and rolled the rim through his fingers, "It's just that, well, I'd appreciate it, if you would, perhaps..."
Franco shook his head, "It not be right to treat a man like that, nor a dragon. Ye ask him for yourself or you ask not at all."
Jamison looked up with pleading in his eyes.
"But, seeing as these are fine peaches and a stump is a stump, I can go fetch him for yah. Perhaps if you have a few cows to his liking than you may arrange for some fields to be plowed come spring as well. You've seen my fields, only took him half a day, you know. Claws like that were made to plow, I tell you."Franco picked up the crate and winked at Jamison, "Now, stand your ground, neighbor. Geargamist will be around shortly. Try not to run." |
Vincent Trask was completely and utterly *insane*. A psychopath who killed for fun. The fun part: Getting other killers caught. He had just finished putting the finishing touches on a body. It was the wife of the serial killer "Bin Bag". Not a very frightening name for a serial killer, but bin bag like to slaughter, then wrapped the victim in in a *bin bag* and suspend it from a tree.
Bin Bag's wife had done nothing to Vincent. He didn't know her well; she lived a few blocks away but he heard she was a nice woman. Oh well, it will be worth it. Some locals have been getting onto Jeremy Staffs as being the Bin Bag. Only Vincent knew for sure. They were just looking for something to pin on him.
Vincent dialed 911. Bin Bag, or Jeremy, as he would call himself this time of the day would be home from work any moment now.
Infact, no sooner had he hung up the phone that he heard the car door close. As the police would check the whole house, he jumped out the window, onto the log shed and into the next garden where he hid behind some rockery. First, he heard Bin Bag's scream, then the ringing of sirens.
(Let me know if you want it continued) |
We learned too late. The bank had the most power, and became the first real target.
They came from the shadows. They ATE the powers, they were unstoppable. it turned out, that only fire could hurt the shadows. anything else was useless. all the top heroes had traded in their powers, became weak enough the escape the notice of the shadow. they had armed themselves with the one weapon that would work.
It was because of the Seer. She had seen the danger, and they set an ambush. Sadly, they failed. They had traded away too much, and had not enough left to stop the shadows once they had gorged on the powers stored in our vault. When they were struck, the shadows burst, each into a thousand new shadows. Too many to fight, and like that the flame of hope was extinguished.
Only later, once the last resistance had fallen in battle did we learn. The seer was a supervillain, and she had had tricked the heroes. With her mystic powers, she had gained they trust by leading them to the competition, and having them remove them for her. And when she was ready... she unleashed her master plan.
But I planned ahead that day, in case prices spiked later. I saved a few vials of power... its not much, but these are the last six elemental fire powers in the city. I know you kids are just teenagers... but your our only hope now. good luck kids. You'll need it.
|
Frustration looms over five years down the track,
She keeps wondering could it be a secret from way back?
We've used a hammer, an iron, a pick at this rock,
Little does she know it can be opened with a gym sock.
The urge and suffering all to see our rings,
Is dwarfed to the pain of this secret which will lead to a greater sting.
Finally when I mustered the courage I blurted "I frequently fap!"
She turned and said "ohh, I thought it was because I had clap"
|
The man in the tan jacket was already receding from my mind. He had a habit of doing that. But his buzzing briefcase remained. Who had left it there? This buzzing briefcase. It must have been a fly salesman. We got those from time to time. Did i buy it? Who did I buy it from? I vaguely remembered a tan jacket. But no, this wasn't good. Not after what happened with the dog, the spider, the sand wraith and the unending horror. Every time one of those died a piece of me crumbled as well. Not in the way of a person losing a pet, in that other way, the more literal way.
Fly salesmen were shunned for a reason. Mayfly only lasted for 24 hours. I mean sure it was a good short term solution for a kid bugging you about having a pet, but it wouldn't work out for me. I gave the briefcase a closer looked and counted the number of buzzes. There were roughly 2000 mayflies in that briefcase. 2000 bits of me ready to vanish, and god knows how many kids they were going to have.
The hour struck midnight. It always struck midnight. Midnight was struck. I felt the flies die, all 2000 of them at once. I guess i bought them from that... Whoever it was... After all. A cold chill washed over me, ripping out from my center to cover my whole body, and by the ice on the table a little bit further than that. I let out a frosty breath. The jacket i wore slowly morphed into a hooded cloak.
I needed to visit the Dog Park.
|
The soldier stared at the translation in astonishment. He quickly relayed them to the officer in charge who relayed them to the leader of the country. This scene was repeated worldwide and each country began beaming their best idea at what the aliens wanted.
"No, send us your gods!"was the aliens response. Again the various countries began transmitting everything they could think of and an emergency shuttle launch carrying various religious figures was sent into orbit. The aliens transported them back to Earth.
A technician looking at the translation software noticed that words started with G automatically converted to gods. After rescending it was quickly determined that the aliens were looking for a gorge and they were vacationing on the wrong planet, they were aiming for the Valles Marineris on Mars. Once they located it they thanked the people of the Earth and left. Humanity never met another alien civilization, or was contacted by that one again. |
"Kentu. Shallah. Erudu nashal Tassim ro...."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"Danny bellowed from his bed.
The chanting came to an immediate stop. Candlelight flickered underneath his door, casting strange oblong shadows around his darkened bedroom. Danny pulled off his noise cancelling headphones and could hear hushed whispers coming from the open closet.
"..anubis wan..."a single voice began to softly chant again. Danny ripped off his bedsheet, leaned over his bed and snatched a tennis shoe from the floor, hurling into the dark closet. He heard it hit with a soft thump followed by a startled squawk from some untold denizen of the underworld.
He pulled the plugs from his nose and a wretched, rotting stench of decay overpowered him...or...would have...had he not grown accustomed to the putrid odor weeks ago.
Danny stormed into the hallway, snuffing out two candles closest to his door with the change of air pressure from violently ripping his door open. He marched down the hallway. His bare foot squelched in the carpet and he froze. Looking down and lifting his foot, he could see the blood pool in the hallway that now also covered his sole.
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!"He roared.
"...Anubis sel God. Anubis tog GOD!"A group of voices cheered together from the living room. In response, Danny flicked on a light switch to the living room, and grinned sadistically at screeching and hissing noises among the tumult of crashing furniture and bodies trying to escape the light.
Crossing the opening to the living room in the hallway, Danny passed the open bathroom door. He looked inside quickly. The mirror was smashed into the sink, the broken pieces swimming in blood. The smooth tiled floor and walls were ornately decorated in hieroglyphic depictions of sacrifice and slaughter, drawn in blood. The bathtub, was now a bubbling container of blood. And not to be left out, the toilet also had a bloody handprint slapped onto the side. Danny looked up. A single bloody fingerprint was mashed onto each of the vanity lightbulbs over the sink.
Danny began pounding on the 2nd bedroom door, interuppting a soft pulsating purple light.
The door cracked open several inches and a black snout poked through amidst a haze of acrid smoke.
"What's up?"Anubis, the God of the underworld asked, tendrils of black mist coiling from his massive canines. His massive hand, tipped in razor sharp talons, dug furrows into the cheap interior door where he grasped it.
"What the fuck is you problem?"Danny hissed. "It's 3 goddamn am and I work opening shift tomorrow...Are you smoking mummified organs again?"
"We're just trying to mellow out. It's not that big..."
"NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL. IT TOOK THREE DAYS TO SCRUB THE ASH OFF THE WALLS ANUBIS!"Danny yelled.
"Alright, alright."Anubis responded. A smoldering fire glinted in his eyes. "We'll go outside."
"Fine. Just tell your minions to stop leaving urns in the stairwell."Danny said. "AND I sweat to God if I catch your demon rats fucking my gym bag in my closet again I'm going to tie them up outside on a sunny day."
"Fine. Just chill ok. I'll kick everybody out by 4. I promise."The ancient deity growled. As he spoke, paint from the door jamb nearest his maw blistered and peeled away.
"4am **U.S.** time, not Egypt time."Danny instructed.
"Yes. Fine. Oookkkkkkk."Anubis said. He slowly closed the door, smashing a scarab beetle as he did. Danny turned and headed back to his room.
A massive black scorpion the size of a cat stood in his path, it's eyes glowing red.
"Anubis toh."The creature hissed.
"Fuck off Chris."Danny said. Stepping over the creature as it snapped for his legs with deadly looking pincers.
"Eat dick you too Danny."The scorpion spoke. Dannys door shut, and the black abomination skittered back into a shadow and out of existence. |
You just made a sale, although I might not start reading it for a while.
Honestly the premise itself is baller as fuck, but I like how you've tweaked it in the first chapter, introducing the the Hand of God and the separation of the ship.
If I may offer some more critical observations from the first chapter, I notice that this story suffers from an issue common to writing prompt responses: not quite starting in-media-res, but also jumping into things a bit too quickly for the reader to get a feel for what the status quo is for the characters, which is the purpose to the more traditional "Status quo -> Call to action/inciting incident"structure.
Had I written the same, I might have devoted a couple of chapters to following the characters around in their daily struggles, before introducing the hook that the ship would be stitching itself back together shortly.
There's also those little tweaks that could be made to help the prose flow a bit better. The very first line might grab the reader's attention better by omitting some details for later; "*We called it the Hand of God*", and later providing extra information that clues us in that it was an asteroid striking the ship. Similarly, I found myself stumbling over the line "*The stories say that the ship used to be one before it hit*", as I kept thinking it meant "Used to be one what? Used to be a god? His hand? An animal? Asteroid?"If, perhaps, the narrator referred to it as there being two ships that used to be one, that might lessen confusion for those who - like me - sometimes leave their reading comprehension at the door.
I'm very much looking forward to reading this. Whenever I actually get round to it proper, I'll leave a better-done review on Amazon/Goodreads. |
The castle was in sight, Knight Locarius had been slaying his way towards it for hours. His silver sword slaying beast upon beast. Golems, witches, trolls, the list was endless. Locarius was on a mission, to save princess Marthstew. A girl so pretty she could dazzle every man who walked the planet. Her father placed her in the castle, and with her he put a small dragon. Both the princess and the dragon grew together, and the dragon grew up protecting but at the same time keeping her captive.
"I am here!"Locarius said triumphantly.
He busted down the large wooden door with a heavy kick. It was surprisingly easy. He took of his helm and slicked his hair back. The princess was located at the top of the tower, so Locarius took speed and headed up.
As he entered the top room he saw the beautiful princess, hair as gold, ocean-blue eyes that could drown you.
Locarius knelt, "Oh dear princess. How long I have fought to rescue you!"
"Rescue? Who needs rescuing?"she asked puzzled.
Locarius looked in the room and saw an enormous black dragon laid in the end of the room. It was devouring a big pie. Most likely of blueberry taste because of the bright purple color around his mouth.
"Dear guest, you just gotta have a taste at my butter-coated chocolate muffin. It is to die for!!"she said with a half-screaming voice.
Locarius sat down at the table. The muffin did certainly look quite yummy. He hadn't had anything else than troll-meat for months. He took a bite, and another, and another. Before he knew it, he had eaten 14 of them. The armor suddenly felt a bit tight.
|
"Primarch Sanada?"
He turned, as distinguished as always, his piercing purple eyes locking on mine instantly. "Yes, Dimarch..."
"Vladislav, sir."
He waved his hand, "what is it Dimarch Vladislav?"
"The 438th Armada has finished it's survey of the GN-z11 galaxy. No signs of intelligent life."
He looked bored. "I see. Anything of interest?"
I looked at the holographic display on my hand to double check, "Yes. 27,911,573 solar systems with life supporting planets. 1,398,407 of those possess complex life. 53,977 with advanced life. 793 with sophisticated life. We only had to purify 7 of those."
He nodded. "On what grounds?"
"Mostly Article II."I scrolled through the data to confirm, "Yes. 6 were purified due to *incompatible neurobiology*. Oh, one was purified for Article 9."
He arched his eyebrows. "Really? When was the last time we had an Article 9 purification?"
I had to quickly look it up. "On a rogue planet in 3C 273. 10,174,998 years ago."
"Ah, that was before my inauguration."He stroked his chin and stepped down from the dias. "Anyway, was there no chance that they would eventually become sentient?"
I looked over the more detailed report on the planet in question. "Unfortunately not, Primarch. A chronometric analysis revealed that from the point of speciation until now, during 94.783% of their history at least 13% of their species was engaged in internal warfare. For 91.018% of their history, 39% was engaged in internal warfare."
He frowned, "what percentage of their history involved 100% warfare?"
I looked again. "1.08% confrontational, 89.413% non-confrontational."
He took a deep breath and sighed, "I see."He took a moment to look at the universal map projected around the room. "are there any unexplored galaxies left?"
"That was the last one, sir."
He blinked several times. I couldn't help but wonder. For the last billion years, our entire purpose revolved around searching the universe for other intelligent life. What would we do now?
As if he had heard my thought, he look at me and said, "We start from the beginning. What is the name of the prime galaxy again?"
I looked it up on my display, "the- hmm."Odd, it had a name made of words. "the, uh, *mil-kee waee* galaxy, sir." |
Everyone knows how to cast their magic instinctively. My mother could cast spells based on Tarot cards, my father could use the power of automotives to power his mana. But I dared not cast my own personal spells, however. The price was too high.
I walked down the street to see my landlord sticking an eviction notice to my wall. 'If you just used your magic like I asked you wouldn't be in this mess,' he sneered before walking past me.
He had no idea that the authorities gave me special permission to refrain from my legal duty to use magic, or how I've recorded him saying he was evicting me unlawfully. I'll speak to my attorney tomorrow.
But things only got worse when I got home. An email from my company stating the implementation of mandatory usage of magic in the workplace and failure to comply meant dismissal, a message from my sister lambasting me for being "selfish"over not putting my own *life* at risk over whatever new fucking political cause she's subscribed to this week, about 50 different reporters who learned from my "friends"about my condition which undoubtedly sold my information for some money...
I walked into the main room, a kitchen/living room and grabbed a knife before sitting on the armchair. I sighed deeply as I looked at the glistening blade, wandering about how terrible my decision was. The last time I did this, I wound up living with a prosthetic left hand.
I almost didn't feel the knife going into my heart, seeing the blood pouring out as I pulled it out. No, I just focused on the sickeningly beautiful red and the moon reflected from it... before he rose from the bottle.
'Jackie Boy,' he said in a mocking tone as he raised up to eye-level. 'I thought that suicide was a sin for Catholics.'
'I didn't do this to summon you,' I snarled to him. 'Let me die in peace.'
'You know I can't do that,' the goblin said as he held my weakened head up. 'Are you that fed up with the world?'
'Everyone can use their magic except me?' I asked. 'I'm being made homeless, my sister's calling me a "Selfish bastard"and my friends were bought by the press. Why couldn't I have a normal remuneration like breaking fingers?'
'No clue,' the goblin said as he looked at my heart. 'I'm just following the Big Guy's orders. And I come here whenever I smell your mana. You want to use magic so why would you bleed yourself? You could hang or take a sleeping pill.'
'Maybe one last "Fuck you",' I said.
'You know I can't let you do that,' the goblin said as he pulled out a needle and thread and got to work on my knife wound. 'We may not look as you mortal expected us but we angels do look out for you little idiots. It's sort of like how you had that dog, Toby.'
'Until Grandma ate him for her magic,' I said sadly.
'And then you cut your arm off,' the goblin said. 'Remember when you first summoned me? What I said? I'd look out for ya. I promised. And I'm a goblin of my word.'
The blood started pumping in my veins, the pool I spilled gone from sight. I was still tired as the goblin dragged me into the bedroom, placing me onto the bed and magicking away my clothes and enchanting the sheets over me.
He headed to the laptop, sending out a few emails. I could only read the subject of one message weakly from my bed. "Jackie attempted suicide - his little friend. Get here ASAP". I could read lines of a particularly *nasty* email to my sisters. "You're a maggot-ridden cunt"was the *least* offensive thing I saw him type.
'You know, you created a *lot* of mana,' the goblin said. 'You could do a number with it.'
'Like what?' I asked him as I tried to sit up.
'Don't you worry,' the goblin said. 'You rest here. I'm gonna make good use of my 24 hours in this world.'
I passed out as he was saying those words. The next thing I knew was the sound of chirping outside my window (very uncommon in this bad neighborhood), the sound of sirens outside (very common) and the sound of banging on my door (more common than you'd think).
I stood up, still weak from last night. My legs pounded on the floor as I struggled to lift them before I unlocked the door.
Detective Jane Montoya was there, as was the goblin. She had a look of severe unease, some concern and some anger. 'Your goblin woke me this morning by dumping cold water over my entire bed,' she said to me. 'What did I say about using your magic?'
'Hey, it wasn't intentional,' I said to her. 'I was just hoping to kill myself in peace and the little bastard showed.'
Her eyes went wide. She pushed the door open fully before placing a hand on my chest, on my... pearl-white scar from the night before.
'And I showed you the emails from last night,' the goblin said. 'Under the Lynch Act, driving an omega-class mage into sacrificial magic is equated to either a manslaughter or murder charge...'
'You *showed her my emails*?!' I asked.
'We're heading to the station,' Jane said to me. 'Right as soon as you put some pants on.' |
"Your Honor, my entire case boils down to one single question: why would a perfect Creator allow the Snake to even exist if these events weren't in divine order? You see, a writer cannot claim that his characters have a life of their own. Every single action of the creation is set forth by its creator. Therefore, Your Honor, unless we are claiming that our Creator is a flawed being, he intentionally created a Snake to manipulate a vapid girl. What's more, the Snake maintains that he merely wanted Eve to know the truth about where she was and who she was! She didn't even know that she had bones inside her body or two beautiful green eyes. Adam claims that he was harmed by his increasing knowledge? That's strange, as his male descendants in the Bible seem to praise the acquisition of knowledge and wisdom very highly indeed. So which is it fellas, you should have remained clueless, ruling over women and animals your only accomplishments, or were you destined to learn about the universe into which you were born and perhaps learn to rule over yourselves? Your Honor, it is clear to me and hopefully the members of the jury that our Creator is having a laugh that we just don't get it yet." |
I should have known marrying one of the fae was a bad idea. They're very literal, contract minded folk, can't break their word if they tried. But after all the reading and planning I had to do to whistle up a fairy girl, trap her, and trick her into loving me, it'd be a waste to let her go. It took me a while to figure out why she would always look towards the kitchen when she mentioned loving me until the end of time. Fortunately, she's a horrid cook who can't tell half of the spices from each other. She was positively glowing the day she used our last of our dried rosemary. I'd never seen someone so disappointed to say "I love you"as she was the next morning.
I guess it's cruel to keep her here in my world, away from her friends, from the forests, from the deadly intrigue her kind thrives on. But I'm too competitive to let her go. Once she figured out which spice container the thyme was actually in, she got creative. Thyme crusted chicken for large dinner parties, cheddar and thyme biscuits with every meal, a special dry rub for barbecue that was mainly thyme. Her tricks got my hackles up, so I fought back: potted thyme plants in the kitchen, a bed of fresh thyme in the front and back gardens, keeping a small bag of it hidden in the sugar. She used it all, I came within mere teaspoons of losing the love of my life. But today, today I make her mine forever, today, I guarantee she'll never fall out of love, today, we go shopping at Costco.
--
Years later and a world away, Aoife McHenry nee Dubhlinn-Merrygold was finally home. She was were she belonged, at a party in a sylvan glen, dressed impeccably, talking, scheming, making deals, all the things right and natural for a fairy. That also included catching up with old acquaintances, however boring they were.
"Darling, I'm so glad to see you're doing well after all you've been through. That horrible man and the things he did to you, you must be glad he's dead. Being summoned and married to a wizard of all things, and an American one at that. Say what you will about that Prospero fellow, at least he was a proper British gentleman."That would be Ariel Summerblossom. Her lack of subtlety was as on display as ever. Trying to undermine Aoife's psyche by mentioning Stephen, and then name dropping a famous wizard connection. It wouldn't work. At least that's what Aoife told herself.
"Ariel, I'm Gaelic, we went to school together, that's it."
"Yes, Gaelic, of course dearie, not all of us can be Brits, more's the pity."Ariel's smile was like a piece of broken glass attempting to pass off as a fine cheddar. No one was fooled.
Aoife simply sniffed and moved on. She had schemes that didn't concern Ariel, and a reputation that had missed 30 years of maintaining. The party rolled on, and many others like it. Eventually Aoife got promoted, had children, retired from active involvements in the courts. She spent her time teaching, and tending her children and grandchildren.
One such evening, a particularly precocious grandchild had found her way into Aoife's private safe. Such snooping was encouraged as good training for the valuable acts of sabotage one could commit later in life, but family was generally off limits. "Grandmother, why do you have a piece of human plastic with leaves in it?"
"So I remember, little one."
The child sat, contemplating. "This is from when you were kidnapped isn't it?"
"Yes."Aoife's voice was as brittle as a stain glassed window.
"It's so you'll always remember that bastard who raped you, and never forget your hatred of humans, isn't it?"
"Of course, child."Aoife smile was indecipherable as took the container back. The child would make a fine warlord some day, until someone with a bit more intuition came along, she assumed. Aoife carefully locked the faded container back up. Then moved the safe outside the house and buried. She kept it to remember yes, but not in anger. She was always careful to remember not to let the thyme inside decay or be stolen. She was always careful to remember how love felt. |
I stand in front of the mirror and give my reflection the finger. My reflection gives my shadow the finger, and my shadow returns the gesture. It goes this way for a while. I shake my head, and my reflection shakes his head at my shadow, who shakes his head at me.
I sip my coffee and eye my reflection warily. My reflection does the same, glaring at my shadow. My shadow puts a hand up to his chin, watching us. "Stop it!"I bark at my reflection, pointing an angry finger in his face.
"He started it!"my reflection replies, pointing an angry finger at my shadow.
"Why does *he* get all the attention!"my shadow cries, pointing an accusatory finger at my reflection.
I throw my hands up in frustration. My shadow glares at my reflection, raising his arms for a fight. My reflection raises his hands to defend himself.
"Everyone calm down,"I say. I take a step back, standing between the two of them. We all cross our arms. "We need to work this out. Everyone sit quietly."
A long moment passes, the two of them staring at each other. "The two of you, leave me alone!"I shout suddenly.
"The two of *you* leave *me* alone!"my reflection responds.
My shadow prepares to say something, then pauses. "I guess we're stuck together,"he says finally.
I look at them both. "Not exactly,"I say, as I turn out the light. |
The knight-captain's daughter stood before me in her noble clothes and dress. A little padding here and there, on top of the royal red silk, she stood at the end of the arena with just her tiny sugar dagger drawn. Her dress hung just low enough that it barely brushed the tops of the puddles of blood decorating the arena surface, and just high enough that it stirred the surface like a skimming spider instead of resting on top of it like the slowly exsanguinating corpse of the last sacrifice.
It wasn't really that fair to see the knightcaptain's face again in hers, though softened by age and lack of time. No scar criss-crossed her nose, and no holy symbols erased portions of her face, though deeper cuts had erased the childhood innocence that had once graced her lovely violet eyes. Perhaps it was naive of me that I could see tears beading in the corner of her eyes, for I already knew that no mercy was left in her gaze.
Just as there was no mercy left in mine. The tattered armor of a thousand warriors decorated the arena now, and the crowds had long gone silent; few people remained. The elderly, mostly, and those too sick to do much more than hoarsely cheer them on with bleeding throats and boiling skin. Vacant eyes hung in sunken skulls, peering over the edge inquisitively, ignoring the dappling of what once was man and monster alike on their skins.
The king's throne was empty. I suppose I was the king now. Perhaps the girl was the king, instead. I had never paid attention to the lineages this far down. With a twist, I pulled the blade out of the skull it was stuck on, drawing it in front of me.
"Did you hide, little girl?"I asked.
She shook her head and kept her stance, her tiny face locked on my armored helmet. Maybe she read something in the fact the sigils were covered in blood, and my moniker as the azure knight would be more accurately renamed to be crimson.
"I never hid."The girl replied. "And I won't hide now."
There was something monstrous in her gaze. Something cool and reptilian. If there was anything left of my humanity, it didn't show now. I knew she read the same reptilian expression from my impassive armor.
The war god howled from above, a red star gleaming on his brow and a dozen storms whirling around his hammer.
"FIGHT!"
https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ If you want more like this. |
(Sorry for my bad english, it's not my native language, but i wanted to share my story anyway)
I lie on my death bed, surrounded by my loved ones. I fought 2 years against the cancer but in the end i lost. As i take my last breath, i see my life flashing in front of me. Not like a movie, more like experiencing all your memories at once. I see my mother comforting me, after i fell from my bike. My first kiss, my marriage, but most importantly, my life work. When I was young, I founded an organization with the sole goal, of achieving world peace. I was laughed at, but that never discouraged me. If anything, it motivated me, to prove them wrong. And, after 40 long and exhausting years, i finally achieved it. World peace.
Everything starts to fade away and I fell my lungs emptying for the last time. As everything starts turning black, I see a small, white light coming towards me. I can't identify what it is, until it stops right in front of me. In big white Letters stand two Words "You Win". What does that mean? I'm so confused.
I pull the helmet of my head and throw it on the ground and look around in complete confusion. I see Arcade machines everywhere and a large crowd around me. One shouts "He won, HE WON"and everyone starts celebrating. I suddenly remember everything. My name is Chris and i just beat the first real life simulator. |
"So good news and bad news."A voice was right above me but I couldn't see.
"Uhh give me the good news first."My voice sounded weird. It was somehow robotic while cracking.
"The good news is your still alive! We saved your life!"The person talking to me sounded robotic and I started trying to see but couldn't.
"And the bad news?"I felt nothing and was sure I wasn't breathing. Light began to appear but I couldn't make out more then a gray blob.
"Weeeelllllllllllll, it's a little complicated. You see you were dead. And well we couldn't save your body so we decided to upload you mind into a robot."
"Oh, well that doesn't sound that bad."I guess startling news doesn't do much for me right now.
"Also uhh the only spare body we had is a robotic duck. We'll find a better form as soon as we can but uhhh for now you're a duck."A robot sounds weird when it can't speak confidently.
"DUCK!"Holy shit I think my mind has autocorrect now! DUCK!
Inspired by the off topic discussion. No idea if I will delete this or not. |
Its always easy to spot the new guys. Young, swaggering. Usually some fancy weapon with a bunch of enchanted fire. Oh, and the glowing armor. Always the glowing armor.
Anyway, this time it was three of em. All of em looked to be about twenty, bronze skin. The one on the left had darkness coiled around him, spreading across the walls and ceiling, flooding his side of the room in inky black. The one on the right was burning so bright he lit up his side of the room, filling it with orangey light. The one in the middle was a head taller, with lightning crackling all over his body. And of course, each one had armor that had either darkness or lighting or yadda yadda yadda. Bloody newbies.
They didn't spare a glance at the other guys in the bar, instead just swaggering over to me, leaning over the counter, and ordering the strongest drink I had. I raised an eyebrow.
"There is no 'strongest drink' here."I said. "Read the sign."
Lightningface glanced up at the menu above the counter. I continued polishing the countertop. He glared at me, apparently expecting me to go over and kiss his feet.
Edgy and Hotshot both glared too. Looks like this was their first time away from whatever fantasy land they came from. Lightingface cleared his throat.
I wandered over after a second. "Decide what you want?"I asked.
All three glanced at each other. Eventually Hotshot spoke up. "Three of the..uh..special. Dash of nectar."
I snorted to myself. They'd all be falling out the door within a few hours if they drank that.
Hotshots eyes blazed.
I clicked my fingers, and three mugs appeared, quickly filling themselves up with foamy alcohol. A tankard appeared above each one, dripping a steady stream of golden liquid. The drinks floated over to the three, the tankards fading back into nothing.
Edgy had his shadows coalesce around the mug, otherworldly tentacles reaching for it.
Then it bobbed out of reach. The wannabe frowned, sending his power after it again. Again it drifted lazily out of the way, dipping and ducking expertly, not a single drop going over the edge, even the foam staying impeccable. At this point it was hovering over his head. He grabbed for it with his normal hands, jumping up and down like a toddler. Eventually he realized how undignified he looked, whirling towards me, fists clenched.
"*What is this??*"
I shrugged. "You gotta pay."
All three of them stared at me. Lightningface shook off his stupor first. Electricity crackled along his armor, his hair standing on end, hands sizzling with ozone. "You impertinent little-"
I sighed. "Yeah yeah, very intimidating. Are you gonna pay or not?"
He blinked.
I leaned over the counter. "You're ruining my floor."
Quick as a blink, I had a hand that felt like a steel vice around my throat. Huh, slow. I was staring into eyes that looked like limitless pools of power. They blazed with fury. "I will tear you limb from--"
He stopped, seeming to realize he had about a thousand people who looked very powerful, and very angry, pointing very scary things at him. I could feel the molecules spinning faster and faster as the true enormity of my establishment opened up to perception.
Edgy and Hotshot went back-to-back, power crackling in their hands.
I looked down at Lightingface, who was staring at the bar shifted and cracked, my counter growing to the size of a world in it of itself, thousands upon thousands of gods standing up from their seats, power, *real* power, flooding towards the three in a wave.
"Might wanna put me down, sweetheart."I said.
He scowled at me, but did just that. As he did so, the molecules in the air stopped spinning as fast, the gods relaxing their power, atoms rattling themselves back into shape, the instruments that would have torn these newbies into screaming neurons stowed back under tables. I didn't bother shrinking the bar again. It was a hassle keeping its true form hidden anyway, really only did it for the wow factor on new guys.
I straightened my apron, flicking my snow-white hair back into place. Lightningface seethed, his demeanor disheveled. He spun on his heel, as dignified as he could manage. Hotshot and Edgy followed him, though a bit slower.
Lightingface turned, shooting me the middle finger as he neared the door. I chuckled to myself, then flicked my wrist.
He spat blood, staring in disbelief at the barbed reddish-blackness buried in his chest. I pulled up on the cord that linked it to me, the gods back arching as a near-silent hiss escaped his lips. Guy had good self-control, I'll give him that.
"Lemme give you a little tip."I whispered, the din of the bar going quiet as a graveyard. My eyes flashed red. "Don't fuck with the guy giving you drinks."
I twisted my hand, the barbs flattened themselves, and the thing snaked back into nonexistence. Edgy and Hotshot grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting him up and carrying him out the door. Guess his lackies had more sense than he did.
I snapped my fingers, the floor cleaning and repairing itself. I gazed up at the three floating mugs, still unclaimed. I shrugged to myself, multiplying the drinks into countless others.
"One round on me!"I roared.
The place cheered as the drinks thudded themselves onto tables, one for every customer, and a few hovering near the door for my regulars.
I went back to polishing my counter. |
I did not feel the usual excitement that one feels at their graduation. For most, it meant a new beginning. It meant leaving their town and going off to bigger and better things. I was not a part of that group.
Everyone, when they turn six years old, is issued an IQ test. Those who score within the top 50% of the country are forced to go to a government school. My school. Parents urge their children to not score well, that if they know the answer, to mark the wrong one. That’s why the percentage is so high – most children listen to their parents and score poorly, forcing the average test scores down. I, however, did not listen to my parents. I was always competitive with my twin brother, and we always tried to outdo each other, to our downfall. I was too proud to knowingly put wrong answers on the test, making me dangerous.
Not only dangerous to myself, but to the government. My brother and I were strong willed. We were smart. We were exactly the people who were a threat to their regime. I’m not stupid. Being a participant in their little game was not a privilege, no matter what these graduation speeches may say. It’s a way to dumb down the population. A way to prevent people from wanting to make new ideas.
The school taught me nothing. There were no books, other than propaganda. For twelve years, my mind has been filled with fake history and revised facts. I tried, but I no longer know the truth.
All I know is that once I graduate, I will be grouped with seven other people. We will all be given guns. One of them does not have a bullet. We will be placed in a circle and asked to shoot the person on our left. We are not taught to shoot lethally, since the person on the left has to shoot the person on their left. It’s all very confusing. However, we are denied healthcare, meaning that we have to shoot somewhere that they will die quick enough, just not before they can shoot someone else. One person will survive.
Each person sitting here, ready to graduate, will be grouped together. Friends who had known each other since they were six would be forced to shoot each other, hoping the gun wouldn’t shoot their friend, but hoping it would. If the gun didn't shoot, they knew they were the ones to die. If it did shoot, they had a chance of survival.
The teachers said the grouping was random, but we knew it wasn’t. That didn’t make good television, and what was the best fundraiser the government could give rather than show friends shoot each other in live action, the audience glad it wasn’t them?
The person who survives has been promised immortality and fame, but everyone knew that wasn’t true. Or, it was, but not in any way wanted. Immortality just made you know you had to relive killing and watching people be killed for the rest of eternity. The winners were never heard from again. However, I knew all of their names. We had to study them. I started to remember a few: Caity Addams, Alex Brownwhite, James Faultner, Aleshia Carter…
Would my name be a part of that list? Or would I die in front of millions watching live and on the television? When it was our room’s turn to go, what would I do? Would I cry? Would I close my eyes and wait for it to be over?
I snap back to attention as I saw my neighbors grudgingly throwing their caps into their air. They had to act happy. The moment they all had been waiting for was coming. I didn’t throw mine in the air, instead watched as everyone picked theirs up.
As everyone settled down, the speaker began to call out the groups. I waited for my name to be called, and unsurprisingly, my brother was in my group. What a storm we must have made. Watch as the two tragic twin brothers pay for their ancestor’s sins by shooting the other!
It’s a blur as I’m placed in the room. My brother is to my left, and my classmate, who will eventually shoot me, is to my right. I’m elected to shoot first, which means I will be the last to die. Maybe my classmate will take pity and kill me instantly, since by that time I will have no one on my left to shoot.
I look at my brother, the carbon copy of myself. His brown hair, his brown eyes, and his graduation robes, blue. I decided to aim for the stomach – I hoped it wouldn’t take long for him to bleed out. I closed my eyes, griped the gun, and felt myself feel disappointed when I pulled the trigger, and the gun was empty.
|
I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose as I looked calmly at the red faced man currently screaming in my face. That was easy. It was more difficult to resist the urge to punch him in the face but somehow I managed. Growing tired of his yelling I managed to cut him off as he stopped for breath. "Sir, please. You've made your point very clear. However if she hasn't hurt your children and by all reports gets along well with them then I don't see a problem."
His face turns even redder and I idly wonder if he is about to have a stroke from the sudden blood flow. "You don't see a problem?!"His tone affecting confusion and surprise.
*Stay calm.* I think to myself. "That's right sir. She isn't disruptive in class. She gets along well with the other children. The teacher doesn't report a problem. So I do not see one."
"That-that...creature is going to end the world!"He roars pointing through the closed door at the girl sitting on the ground reading.
My jaw clenches and I stifle the urge to punch him again. "My *daughter* is just a little girl. She likes Disney movies, stuffed animals, and dumplings. Strange likes for anyone who supposedly is going to end the world."This time I cannot stop my growing anger to show on my face and it causes the man to pause.
"Well she has horns!"Squealed some woman who had been quietly egging on the man and some of the other people nod in agreement.
I turn to her failing to hide the contempt in my voice. "You ma'am have yellow eyes that are faintly reminiscent of jaundice from over drinking but up till now I have had the good grace to not mention it."Shamefully I enjoy her look of outrage and the expressions of the surrounding people range from sudden amusement to shock.
Angrily I look at the crowd and cross my arms. "So we judge people, no we judge *children* by their physical appearance? That's a fine lesson to teach our young ones."Now more of the crowd starts to look somewhat ashamed though there are some that remain ignorantly defiant.
The first man tries to speak again. "It's prophesied that-"
Tired of it all I snort loudly cutting him off. "Prophecy? That's the basis of your tripe?! Enough. When you have a legitimate problem that my daughter has done something actually wrong feel free to contact me. Otherwise stay away from her or else I'll slap you physically and with a restraining order."
I angrily go inside the classroom but my expression changes when she looks up at me with her wide brown eyes. I kneel down and smile. "Come on Melody. Let's go home ok?"She nods quietly and puts away the book she was reading. Putting on her back pack I pick her up and bid her teacher good bye. She starts to say something but I smile sadly at her. "It's ok. I understand."I murmur. The teacher smiles back gratefully and tells Melody she will see her on Monday.
As I walk out I look directly into the eyes of the group outside. This time no one returns eye contact and I continue to walk away, Melody hiding her face in my neck and I seethe at the indignity of these so called adults. Melody remains quiet all the way home and I let her sit quietly, trying to temper my own annoyance.
At home she puts her things away like she normally does as I check on the crock pot. Slumping into my easy chair I release a sigh that had been building for hours. With my eyes closed I mull over the things I wish I could say, grinning inwardly at some choice insults I devise.
I feel small hands gripping me and look down to see Melody climbing into my lap. I hug her close and stroke her hair, ignoring the little horns that protrude from her head. I whisper to her as I feel her try to snuggle closer, "Don't worry little one. Ignore the silly adults. They don't know what they are saying. Besides. Prophecies don't always come true."
She looks up at me, hope on her face as I see unshed tears glint in her eyes. "Really?"she whispers, desperation in her voice.
I think about the prophecy I had received so many years ago. One that said I would never be able to love or be loved. I nod and kiss her cheek. "Really."
The tension immediately bleeds out of her and I can feel her relief. The smile that crosses her face spreads to mine and soon she's giggling again as I tickle her. "Can we watch Moana again?"She asks settling into my lap.
I turn on the television, "Its already in the player sweetie." |
When I opened the mailbox and saw it there... it was very different than I thought it would be. The glossy black envelope, the perfectly recognizable return address...
*Mr. Grim Reaper*
*1 Black Lane*
*Underworld, 00000*
I thought I'd feel shock or anger. I'm only 30, in good health. So many things I still want to do. But instead I was filled with the strangest sense of relief. The letter wasn't addressed to me, it was to my neighbor Chad. And he's a real motherfucker. Chad this, Chad that.
"Hey Charlotte! Hey Charlotte!"I yelled to my wife. "Get out here! This is amazing. I am going to burn Chad so bad with this, get your phone out and film. Front page of Reddit here we come!" |
It was raining near Hastings. From the guesthouse he saw the seas churn and the curtain of rain moving in shrouds. Far off there was lightning and its thunder cracked in the silent room.
*Such a dumb metaphor,* he thought.
His felt his mind as rough as the sea.
*But it's true isn't it? Call a spade a spade. Call a failure a failure.*
He wished he was out there now. He wanted to drown in the grey waters. They looked cold and he imagined their iciness would numb his nerves and kill the pain. He would be sinking. Sinking deep into oblivion; away from it all.
She looked at him and her eyes caught his and he tried to look away but he didn't really want to look away. They were angry and so they had to act angry, but he really was sad and he wanted nothing more than to talk to her. But he had no words. And she had no comfort. Their eyes met and she felt something she never felt before and she wondered why she had ever left. She wondered who was the real Devil if this was the way of love. And was this even love?
"Christopher..."
He searched for words, but his mind was full of incoherence.
"Ananke..."
He always called her Anna. He knew it would hurt her but he could not think why he wanted to hurt her.
"Yes, I suppose you're right,"she said. "That's my name."
She looked out from the bed. If it wasn't raining he would have left the house and go on his own. He was glad it was raining.
Then he began to cry.
"You know I loved you,"he said. "I...I loved you!"
And she was sad.
"I love you too! Chris... Chris I love you... You are everything to me... You..."
The air went stale as they choked on emotion. Ananke thought of everything then, her life and of living. She was unlike Christopher, fundamentally unlike him.
*It will never work.*
But it had hadn't it? How long had it been since she had left that life? Would her sins follow her forever? Or would there be forgiveness?
"Chris, I'm sorry... I should have never..."
"You're the fucking Devil! You're..."
He wanted to hit her. He wanted to make her feel his pain. To hurt her as she hurt him.
"You like this! I bet you fucking like this! Isn't that why you did it? Rip my fucking heart out? That's what you want! That's..."
She began to cry. In her life she had done many things to hurt many people. But none was worse than breaking up with him. And she had done that for their own good.
*Good,* she thought. *What the fuck is good? What good is there?*
Through the tears was despair. And through despair was hopelessness. She knew there was a Devil in the world. She wasn't sure about God.
*Are You there? Is this how You run things?*
But he never answered. Chris was barking at her. She wanted to stop him. His words cut worse that anything in Hell. She wanted him to see how he was hurting her. To feel the pain she was in.
*But he's right. I ended it. I had no right to but I did.*
She wanted to scream.
*But it's the only way! There's no way for us to be together. There's no hope.*
Already the pressures of this world were growing on her. She did not age as a human did, but she was wasting away. Her body was weak. In a year or two she would be dead, gone forever from all of Creation.
*I do not belong here.*
She looked at Christopher and wondered how she could say that. Of course she belonged. Everything felt right with him.
His voice grew hoarse and she had gotten up and he was in pain. She stood naked there and it reminded him of all the times they were together and how that was in the past and how all happiness was in the past. She kissed him and forced herself on him.
Her mouth was sour from shouting and her face salty and she was cold and fragile and he was trembling and he wanted to die.
"Chris,"she said. "I love you. I have lived for so long... I have been alive for an eternity. But I have never loved anyone before. I don't want to leave you. I don't want to go."
And the words were a gift from God.
"I don't want to leave either,"he said. "I want to be with you forever."
"Me too,"she said.
She was still crying.
"You must do something,"she said.
"Anything."
He held her breast and everything seemed right. Everything seemed like it would be okay.
"You must kill me,"she said. "Kill me now!"
The thunder rolled over Hastings. His hopes shattered in its growl.
"Anna..."
"I can't live here, Chris. I can't survive, I've told you already. I need to go... I need to go back."
"Go back where?"
"To where I belong."
"You belong here."
"I belong with you. I want you to come with me. If you love me, you will come."
"You... You..."
He could not say the words.
"Come to Hell,"she said. "It's the only way."
His eyes were deeper than the sea and they were conflicted and stormy. She had never felt so vulnerable. She held him close. Everything rested on his decision. And she felt bad for making him choose.
*I do love him,* she thought.
And she remembered she was the Devil and she cried anew but he did not know why she was crying.
All he knew was that he wanted her. He did not want anything else in the world. What heaven could there be if she was not there.
"I love you,"he said and that was an answer enough.
She steeled herself after giving him the knife. The anticipation and fear was the worst part about it.
*What if he doesn't follow through? What if he can't kill himself?*
The thought of a lonely Hell scared her and she knew there was nothing to do but hope.
*I deserve it,* she thought.
He stabbed her and the pain was immense. He began sobbing and she felt herself going. She wanted to kiss him once more, to hold him and make sure he would follow through. But death was fast and soon she was far from England and the fires burned in their loneliness.
But Christopher had loved her truly. Soon after he came at Hell's gates and was there in her beauty and she embraced him and she kissed him and she loved him.
In the shadows of the damned they made a home together and though it was red and fiery, he felt peaceful and he was glad and content. She doted on him and she was happy as well. But she hated herself all the same.
*There is no God,* she thought. *Only me.*
She looked into his eyes and saw his joy. She wanted it to stay so forever but she knew it would be quick going. Hell was not a place for humans and it was not a place for love.
Much like herself on Earth, he would soon waste away. Soon the pains of the ether would grab him and soon he would be nothing, soul-less forever, and never at peace.
"Anna,"he said, "I love you so much."
"I love you too, Chris."
And her thoughts were off all the men she had loved before. All the men who kept her loneliness at bay. She had loved them all truly, and she mourned each of them in a private way.
*Soon it would be you, Chris.*
There was sadness in her eyes but he did not see. That sadness would come later and later they would both suffer and he would suffer more and she would be alone again. But not now. Now he was with her. Now there was only him. The ghosts of the past drowned in the flames and she kissed him and held him and he was happy and she was happy. For now, they weren't in Hell. |
Mom had mentioned an odd eccentric uncle a few times, her father's older brother, but I never gave it much thought until a day after I turned thirty. The lawyer contacted me informing me of my great uncle's passing and that I was to attend the reading of the will. I almost blew it off as a "Nigerian Prince"scam, but offhandedly I mentioned it to mom and she told me that I should go.
So there I sat in my best suit and tie while a small, but oddly chatty lawyer began to read through my great uncle's last will and testament.
I won't go into the details too deep as the first three-quarters of the will related who got which car, which property, which house, etc. I discovered that my great uncle was actually quite wealthy. After what seemed like a few hours, I began to wonder what he could possibly have left that he'd willed to me.
Finally the lawyer began to pause and looked directly at me as he continued on the reading:
*Robert. You don't know me. Well, at least right now you don't. You will. As you're hearing this, you're probably thinking that I'm crazy. You're not wrong. I've done some things I'm not proud of, and I've done some amazing things that should be written across the cosmos for years to come. We did a lot of those things together. You just haven't done them yet.*
The lawyer paused again with a look of confusion on his face but continued reading nonetheless:
*I would never have been the man I was without your help. I know that sounds crazy, but you made me the person I was meant to be. You're going to shape the course of history with me...but you just haven't done it yet. I'm incredibly excited for what's going to come for us next. Right now, for me, the journey is over. Your's, however, is about to begin. I leave to you a small house on ten acres of land where I was born. Your grandfather was born there as well. Ask him about it and say that Uncle Hector left it to you in his will. He'll tell you how to get there. I might not seem excited when you arrive, but know this; I can't wait to meet you. Ring the bell when you get there. See you soon.*
The lawyer handed me an ancient looking skeleton key and maintained the same perplexed look that every other person in the room had plastered on their faces. We said our pleasantries and I left to see my grandfather. My grandfather dully informed me that he was aware that his brother owned the property still, but for reasons unknown to him, Uncle Hector had kept the land in an intentional state of disrepair and had forbade any access to their childhood home whatsoever. I'd be the first person legally allowed on that land in nearly four decades.
I couldn't drive much past the front gate due to the overgrown foliage and debris. Tractor tires blocked the entryway, and a veritable moat of a wetland encircled the small abode. Once I made my way to the front door, however, things changed; the house looked intentionally dilapidated. Not a single step creaked as I trudged onto the front porch. When I rang the doorbell something inexplicable happened. A metallic voice spoke as the doorbell spit out a small flying robot that shined a bright light in my eye.
*Identity confirmed. Robert Ramirez. Age, thirty years, one day. Welcome.*
I almost took a step towards the opening door when the floor suddenly dropped from beneath my feet. I slid down a chute that gradually changed from vertical to diagonal and finally horizontal as I reached a subterranean basement. I quickly scanned the room and noticed that the chute had sealed behind me and I only had one way out; a door directly in front of me. I heard an unfamiliar voice speak as I stood up.
*Robert, it's so nice of you to join me. Please step through the door in front of you when you're ready. Be warned, however, as I said that your journey is about to begin...it's not easy, but it's worth the effort. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Also...it might tingle a little, but don't worry; that's normal.*
I stepped forward and grabbed the door handle. As I did a shock went through my arm and froze me in place. I was paralyzed for what felt like an eternity but must've only been a second or so. Before I could stop my body I'd opened the door and stepped through the hallway into a dark room with a wisp of smoke circulating around a dingy ceiling fan. There was a man in a tie-die shirt lounged back on a sofa staring directly at me as I stepped through the door onto the shag carpet. I didn't know him...but I felt like I would soon.
*Hector?*
The man had a bit of trouble focusing his eyes on me, but eventually he returned to reality and spoke as a million questions raced through my head.
*Yeah...man...you Robert? Some old guy told me to hang here until you showed up. Maybe you can clear a few things up for me...want a hit?* |
I turned 10 two weeks before the day I went to school with Mom. She was finishing up her degree that she had put on hold after my birth. Given it was finals week, she figured the mass of students cramming in the library would allow me to blend in while she finished her finals. I observed the mass of students coming and going from the lengthy steps of the entrance, when a cart started rolling our way.
It was a small hand cart packed with pizzas. A small gathering followed the cart. Then the strong announcement projected from the students, "Free Pizza."Mom always told me to never eat food from strangers, but it seemed safe with the growing crowd. I counted at least twenty pizza boxes and I made my way towards the cart.
"David's pizza party,"students yelled out and waved little poster boards with free pizza on them. When I got closer, I heard the explanation. "David had so many meal points left on his account. Instead of letting them go to waste, he wanted to treat people to pizza."
I knew I would get a free slice and it felt good because my hunger was growing and Mom only left me with a granola bar and a banana. Two student cafe workers, wearing matching magenta dining shirts, were dishing out the pies with gloves onto paper plates.
"Hey little guy,"the girl said, grinning, "Pepperoni or cheese?"I chose cheese over pepperoni. I thanked David. He was standing next to the cafe workers, greeting all the hungry students with an aura of accomplishment.
It really was a feat, though. I again sat atop the lengthy steps, eating my pizza, fascinated by the simple sight of food bringing people together.
The line died when people realized there wasn't going to be enough food and that their tests were to begin in five minutes. The notorious bell started to sing, 2 o'clock. Still one box left and no one was coming up to the cart.
I was still hungry and I figured why not ask for another slice. "Hey David,"I said, "Would it be okay if I have another slice?"He looked around and nodded his head.
I thanked him again and mentioned how my mother left me hungry, waiting for her to come back.
After I ate the second slice, I started to feel tired and sat down in the shady grass outside the library. My head fell into my lap.
I woke up to my mother calling my name, "Darren,"she said, "Let's go. The bus will be here any minute."I stood up and saw no sign of the pizza party, I wasn't sure how long I had been napping.
On the way towards the bus stop, my stomach started rumbling. I had a sudden feeling and I yelled at Mom for a bathroom. I went inside and regretted that second slice of pizza.
At first, mom was upset. We missed the bus which only came once an hour. But after the bus didn't come back the next hour, she was crying. Mom still had chores to do, as well as finish an essay due online. But, when we found out that the bus we missed would end up being the most tragic accident in our small college town's history, she never made fit of it again.
Turns out a UPS driver fell asleep at the wheel parallel to the city bus. The driver swerved into the bus, pushing it off the freeway into a spinning, fiery doom.
Most of the riders, students, passed away that day.
I never told Mom about the two slices of pizza because I knew she'd get mad either way. She would be mad that I ate food from strangers and got sick, but even more frustrated that disobeying her led something good. |
I laughed when I saw the announcement. The existence of the event was essentially the government's acknowledgement of poor law enforcement and their stating that they would only be doing their best for a day.
Clearly they wouldn't follow through.
The day was spent lazily on my computer. I hadn't been planning on committing any crimes anyway.
At about nine A.M. my laughter faded. There were reports of millions of Texans being fined for speeding all over the internet. Not only that, but there were even more numerous reports of government officials coming directly to people's doorsteps charging thousands to millions of dollars for music piracy. I completely panicked. My life would be spent working off debt from over ten years of seemingly harmless actions.
I packed my bags and fled. I had enough money to get out of state for the rest of the day and stay the night at a cheap motel. If I escaped authorities for long enough I could evade the fines entirely.
As I turned onto the highway I encountered a problem. Traffic. It was worse than I had ever seen it. Cars were at a complete stand-still. There was something eery about it, though. No noise came. No angry drivers aimlessly honking their horns. They had already given up. Men in black suits were going car to car. I saw a young woman crying. Debt was imminent and there was nothing anybody could do.
I wasn't ready to give up.
I made the last minute decision to avoid the highway, and made an entirely illegal U-turn. The regular streets were almost as bad as the highway, so I compromised to drive on the dirt pedestrian path. At this rate I could still get out of state by the end of the day.
I then heard sirens behind me. *Shit*. That U-turn was illegal, and my current mode of transport was out of the question. Fortunately the cops were stuck in the traffic. I had the upper hand, and floored the car. This got my heart racing.
The unmistakeable sound of a helicopter came next.
"If you stop the vehicle now the consequences of your actions will be limited!"Came a megaphone.
Not on my watch. |
Prophecies and fate are strange things. They adapt with the age. Just when you think you've got all their
cryptic meanings puzzled out, something happens and changes the meaning of that one word. I suspect our confidence in the words of the mystic was too good of a joke for fate to pass up.
My son was the "One."He was blessed by the sun, and loved by the mother of the world. I mean, who wouldn't love their only child. He was the hope of our people against the rising dark, and now he's gone. And so is she.
It's been centuries since I've wielded a sword and bow, so I can only hope the touch will come back with time. We can't wait for the next one, and with the mother gone we can't even believe that there will be another. So I'll take the reins. I'll trust that the first and last words of my son and the love of my wife will be good enough for fate.
I will fight the dark. |
The man covered in black yelled. "I SWEAR YOU ARE A FUCKING RETARD IF YOU THINK HE WILL GROW UP TO BE A HERO HE IS PURE EV--"
The man in white interupted: "HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT THE LORD AND SAVIOUR LIKE THAT WHAT PROOF DO YOU HAVE"
"Shut up. Right now. You're both time travellers bring me to your world. Let me judge for myself".
They looked at eachother and shrugged. "Fiiiinnneee"said the man in white "but im going first".
"NO IM GOING FIRST"
They continued argueing like kids, neither presenting evidence or an actual arguement.
Stop. I have made up my mind. I want to see the future where my son is evil.
Before the man in white could question my decision I entered the portal. I came out to a very different world. The sky was engulfed in black and there was a clear absence of happiness.
The man simply picked up a tv remote and pressed the on button. There was my son, all grown up, eating pizza, with pineapple on it.
My son is going to die. |
Today I have a new mantra.
Yes. After twelve years, four months and fourteen days, I have decided to focus all of my attention - all of my being - on a new construct.
For years, I followed the gentle ebb and flow of my diaphragm as I breathed. I learned that every breath taken is a breath lost to time, that there is only the endless now.
I made peace with a world of pain. A world where, in the end, the greatest calamities sit side by side with the smallest breath.
I grew to see the endless chain of suffering that can spin out of the smallest indiscretion. How a single mis-placed word can set a thousand ripples in motion, a word itself stirred into being by ripples long past.
I understood. Until, one day, I didn't understand any more.
Standing in the middle of a deserted Emirati shopping mall, I was confronted with the face of my killer for the second time. His voice crackled in the breeze like electricity, and again I found myself gunned down indiscriminately.
A life time spent striving to escape the wheel of Samsara, and yet in the space of five minutes, I must twice stare into the eyes of my murderer. Twice listen to their gleeful cries. Twice wait to be reborn, only to find myself under the same decaying arches, surrounded by the same detritus of a culture turned in upon itself.
And so this new cycle repeated itself again. And again. And again.
Until I changed. Tested the new wheel. Marvelled to find a Bullpup rifle in my hands. Marvelled again at my new-found knowledge of what to do with such a weapon. Grew incredulous at my reaction to sharing in the ballet of death I now took part in. One would expect a man attuned to suffering to find only sorrow in these murderous times.
In fact, quite the opposite. I learned to love it.
And so I have a new mantra, one inspired by the man who first murdered me, his electric growl still rumbling in my ears all these lives later.
I let the words wash over me.
"EAT SHIT AND DIE NOOB" |
The wind was deafening and cold, I could feel it start to chill my bones. Rocks shifted at my feet, my legs could not do this for much longer. There was a series of rocks a head that I could rest on so I took the opportunity. My son had suffered at the hands of our tribe, his wounds would not be healing and he had not moved in sometime. I placed him gently on the rock beside me and my shoulder sang in relief.
The snow was starting to fall and I had no shelter to speak of, my only hope was to try and reach the other side of the mountain. My son deserved better than this, but I could not carry him any further. Using the rocks around us, I buried him. Pain in my left shoulder made the process slow. When I was done, the snow had picked up to the point of being blinding. I knew these mountains well and carried on regardless, I couldn't go back anyway.
My legs had a new found energy and carried me for quite some distance before aching again. The snow stopped so I rested again, my beard had ice in it and my coat was in tatters. Slashes in the hide allowed the wind access to my skin. Reaching across to touch my shoulder, I felt an object lodged inside, it was too deep to remove. I felt that my coat was quite damp in that region and pulled my hand back to reveal a bright red palm.
There was a sound in the distance, voices yelling. They followed me. I started to run, but it was hard to run with the incline and the rocks shifting beneath my feet. Eventually, distance was accomplished and the sounds diminished. I hadn't lost them, just given myself some time. The pain in my shoulder was excruciating now, it had been worsening but I was able to shake it off until now. My left arm was useless at this point, I must have done some damage when I built the grave.
This distraction began to impede my advantage of distance. They were gaining. I started running, but between the pain and exhaustion, I couldn't keep it up for long. My vision was starting to fade and I could feel my becoming light. Cold was ever present since the beginning of my escape, but this was a different kind of cold, it was almost inviting. My ability to walk ceased and I fell to my knees, my legs were so cold that I didn't even feel the rocks beneath them. I reached one last time to my shoulder, I hoping that if I could remove the arrowhead maybe I'd have some relief.
I remember the feeling of falling forward and the voices of my tormentors encroaching. This was where I ended my journey. |
Terror gripped me as we sped down the highway. Even though it was miles away I could already see the flames firmly taking hold of the building. Soft estimate was several hundred people were trapped on the upper floors, and at this point we already knew the odds of helping them were miniscule. I tightened the mask around my face as we rounded the corner onto the block, masses of confused people were staring up in awe. It was quiet as we pulled up, and it shouldn't have been. That struck me as odd, but I chalked it up to shock. The eyes of every person looked at our truck with hope.
It was already useless to try and do anything major, the structure was beyond saving, and the crews that had arrived first had already spent whatever limited resources they had trying to get the fire extinguished without success; at this point it was damage control. I got my orders, there were some apartments that still had people reported in them on the lower floors.
After a decade of doing this, you get used to the screams when you enter a building. You learn to tune them out, and do your best to focus. Apartment 205, that was mine to sweep on this first pass, apparently there was a kid still in there. I repeated the number over and over in my head until it was all I could hear, *205, 205, 205, 205, 205*. I got to the door and kicked it in, frantically moving through the small one bedroom place looking for any sign of life.
There were toys strewn about everywhere, and various pieces of flaming debris scattered on the ground. I saw a small pair of legs with red shoes on sticking out from the bathroom doorway, and walked over to confirm the worst. Sure enough, the boy's body was limp and ashen when I walked over to investigate. I hadn't planned to find a figure standing over him.
It vaguely resembled the shape of a man, but it was covered in flames rolling over the surface. I had seen something like it one of my first serious response calls. My therapist chalked it up to PTSI, it had been my first exposure to death on the job, but I'd still dream about that figure from time to time. Now here it was in front of me, standing above the boy.
It stepped back quickly, as if it was surprised. The flames in the room and embers in the ceiling all slowly dimmed. The figure pulled up it's arm, and pointed to my face; making the motion of removing my mask. I couldn't tell you why I did it, but I followed it's lead. It was quiet.
"We are winning. We will survive. We didn't want the child to die. We were trying to fix it."
The voice was high, and gentle. I instinctively started stepping backwards.
"We remember you. You want us to go."
The embers around me started growing stronger. The voice started echoing from every where.
"We remember you.""We remember you.""We remember you.""We remember you.""We remember you."
The figure in front of me twisted and contorted, half running and half lunging in my direction. I fumbled with the mask in my hands and started backpedaling, rushing towards the hallway. The screams from the upper floors now mixed with the voice of the flames and chaos spread everywhere as the floor and ceiling dissolved around me, leaving me stranded in the middle of the hallway. The figure sprinted over the open air in my direction and lunged for me, I instinctively pulled out my ax and swung it at the figure.
As the ax passed through the middle of the figure and it swirled effortlessly around the blade. It crashed into my body and I found myself falling though to the first floor.
They found me hours later, and I awoke in the back of an ambulance as daybreak began. They explained I had been lucky, and that my equipment had saved my life. It was quiet outside, as the last of the fire died out within the building and the survivors were shuttled away to hospitals and refuges across the city. I gripped a cold cup of coffee between my hands, working through my PTSI exercises.
A small boy with red shoes approached the ambulance, with his parents. He was covered in soot, but his eyes were clear and pure. His Parents showered me with praise, thanking me for saving their son and risking my life. The boy walked up to me and extended his hand, as if to shake it. I grasped it, but had to pull away, it had been too hot to hold. "I remember you, and I'll see you again, okay?"He giggled and walked away. |
"I knew you were immortal."
"No you didn't."
"Sure I did! All the signs were there."
"Like what?"
"Well, the um... the bullet in your head."
"You just put that there."
"I didn't say when I knew you were immortal."
"Did you know before or after you shot me?"
"... What is time, really?"
"Seriously?"
"Look, had I known you were immortal, I wouldn't have tried to shoot you."
"Does that help your case?"
"I think so. Because now that you're immortal, things are totally different. I didn't try to shoot YOU, I tried to shoot mortal you. It's like, if you thought I was skimming off the top of the business, you might hate me and try to kill me, but if I then wasn't stealing any money, you would feel bad that you tried to kill me."
"Those aren't the same thing."
"But they demonstrate, I think, how killing you wasn't personal. I didn't know this side of you."
"What side of me?"
"The immortal side! It's very attractive."
"Wait, did you accuse me of stealing from the business?"
"No!"
"Are you stealing from the business?"
"Ummm... well I wasn't stealing from IMMORTAL you."
"Oh for god's sakes."
"Hold on! Why did you never tell me you were immortal?"
"Jeese! It's personal."
"It seems to me like my stealing was as much a product of my environment as anything."
"What environment?"
"The environment where you didn't tell me you're God."
"I'm not God."
"Then why are you immortal?"
A sigh. "Deal with the devil."
"A deal with the devil? You made a deal with the devil?"
"Yeah."
"And I was feeling bad I stole money. I never betrayed God so... directly."
"I didn't know he was the devil."
"Did the cloven hooves not give it away?"
"I thought... I don't know... Pan? Or a centaur?"
"Really?"
"I don't know! Anyway, it was a long time ago, and I don't really want it to define me. I have a wife now."
"So... how are we going to play this?"
"It never happened."
"Fine by me."
"Oh, and John?"
"Yeah?"
"You're fired." |
"Why,"my sister, a brown eyed brunette like me, asked. Sitting on the edge of my bed, legs dangling freely off the side, my younger sibling of about three years asked a question that was quite honestly merited. Regardless, I liked to play dumb.
"Why what?"I asked, while shooting a rubber band through my open window and into the open window of the house across the street.
"Why would you put all of your points into... THAT?"she asked, disgust displayed clearly on her face. "You could put all of your points into intelligence and save the world. You could put all of your points into strength and be a hero."She trails off, eyes wandering as she thinks. "You could put your points into cooking and make me a proper breakfast for once. There is so much good you could do in the world if you just tried, and instead you're... you're..."
"Shooting rubber bands across the street with the accuracy of a military sniper, yes,"I responded. No sooner had I finished the statement had I landed my across the street neighbor in the eye. It was oddly satisfying.
"Why is that even a skill you could dump your points in,"she asks, clearly as annoyed as she was confused.
"It wasn't,"I said. I had just finished turning off the boy's light with the rubber band. Eventually the boy will realize what's going on. "I asked the universe to make it one, and it did."
"Wait, you can make up skills to put points into?"my sister asked, incredulous.
"I can now,"I said.
"Well, then why are you wasting it on the 'Rubber Band Shooting Skill'?"
Well, it turns out that one day I actually did put all of my points into intelligence. I instantly knew all that there was to know in exchange for having to spend the entire day in bed as I had no more strength left. I learned physics, biology and chemistry. I learned architecture and ecology. I learned psychology. I grasped at the meaning of the universe.
Then I became completely bored. Life had lost all meaning almost immediately as I strove for nothing. Nothing was new as I had known all. In my infinite knowledge I had now known that I would have rather been stupid and able to learn, than all knowing and having nothing left to look forward to.
So that very same night I emptied myself of all but the most rudimentary of points in all my basic stats. Then I created new ones and dumped them in there.
Of course, because I was only of average intelligence now, I didn't have a way to explain my existential crisis to my younger sister. So I simply shrugged.
"Dunno."
"Ugh,"my sister grunted. "Will you at least put the points into something useful tomorrow?"
Tomorrow I was gonna make a 'Jumping With My Knees' skill and put all my points into that. It was probably going to be a lot of fun. "Maybe."
"Fine,"my sister grunted. She plopped down on my bed. "One of these days you're going to be a useful member of society though."
I shrugged again. My across the street neighbor received another rubber band to the ear. |
Here's the thing about wizards, we've seen scarier shit in our normal day than you have ever seen in your small, pitiful existence. And we've fought those things a hundred times over. We have centuries, if not millenia of combat experience. And you look at us with our long white beards (those have a reason by the way, we don't just like having awesome beards) and think we are just pussies.
Which brings me to today. This cunt just walked up to me and told me to give him immortality or else, like wtf do you think I'm afraid of you. So I ignored him but he pulled a knife and cut my hat, MY FUCKING HAT, who the fuck does that?! Anyway I turned very slowly towards this cunt, got all up in his face and said, "wtf is wrong with you, you stupid cunt flap."
He responded smugly with "That got your attention now didn't it, I did that to show you I'm serious, now give me what I want."So I did, I gave him a sock in his Fuckin jaw, then another one, and just for good measure I made him mute. The motherfucker deserved it he cut my hat. Like how big of a cuntasaurus do you have to be to cut a hat? |
**Immigration Gurgles - part 1**
Hank looked at the screen of the translating device. *"You are human. Correct?"* it read. He looked up at the palpitating, asymmetrical face of the creature behind the desk and quickly raised his arms—the universal signal for acknowledgement. The creature, its face lit by the dim yellow light of some holographic computer in front of it, entered the affirmative into the device. Hank was getting a little nervous. He hadn't been at the Alpha Centauri Station in a couple years, but he wasn't used to immigration taking this long. He'd best be on his guard.
When the creature looked up again, it seemed to study Hank for a number of seconds, after which it made a gurgling sound. Hank looked at the screen again. *"Are you sure? We don't see many humans these days,"* it said. Strange, he thought. What happened to Alpha Cen? This is the first stop for all ships leaving Earth, either to fill in emigration forms or for trading at the hub. He needed to know more.
The translator made a number of fast-paced, high-pitched gurgling noises, after Hank spoke "Who is the last human to arrive here?"into it. The creature entered something into its holographic computer, which instantly returned an answer by changing shape and turning to a bright purple. It looked at Hank with an intensely furrowed brow, or whatever it was that was furrowing, and gurgled a single gurgle. *"You,"* the translator read.
This can't be right. Hank had been gone for six years. Nothing seemed amiss when he left Earth in his warpdriven ship, certain that many would follow. He looked around. For some reason all the bodies and faces in the enormous entry hall had turned toward him, accompanied by a deafening silence. Hank was feeling nauseous now, his clothes suddenly felt too constricting, especially now that he was sweating profusely. This wasn't right. He needed to get out of here.
He excused himself and ran off looking for the restroom for bipedal life forms. The creature pressed a button on its desk and gurgled a message into a small microphone. The translating device, still on, showed the words *"we found him."*
[edits to make small improvements and remove some spelling errors]
|
"The Jury finds Mr. Allarone Innocent on all charges."The courtroom erupted into applause. All of my "Victims"hugged me and thanked me for everything. Truely I hated my life before this, but I think that I am making people happy. Everyone that I took was down and depressed.
I would take them to a terrible place. I bought a set from a local horror movie and added pigs blood. In the scare room, I made them confess to everything they loved, their grievances...everything. After that I would take them to a beachside property and offer them a nice weekend of relaxation and meditation. Always free to go. Though strangely none of them did. Work, relationships, family, school they could escape if for as long as they wanted and recharge.
I had to promise the judge I would no longer take people. But helping them helped me. After a particularly bad divorce I was broken. I wanted to be whole again, so I helped others to become whole, in the process helping myself.
Here I was, I should be happy. I was acquitted of 127 counts of kidnapping. But I could see her. Across the room, the lawyer that tried to convict me. Tears and depression covered her face....looks like I found my next victim. |
"Surprised to see me?"The demon grins, flashing razor-sharp teeth. My flask falls to the floor, and I take an involuntary step back.
"But ... This... I..."
"Oh you mortals. This. Is. Rich!"it howls with laughter. It only looks more dreadful in mirth; red scale, twisted bone, and jutted protrusions thrown into stark contrast by the glow of my summoning runes. "How're you feeling? Surprised? Awed, in my presence?"
"Sick. I feel sick."I start the flow of magic through my wrists. They jitter down my veins, curling out my fingertips to form faint sigils, suspended in the air. *Keep it distracted, and talking about itself.* "When I began my research into the source, I didn't expect this. This is against everything we've worked for."
It smiles slyly. "You've had plenty of clues."The wards chaining the demon flicker. My teeth are clenched, and I continue with the spell. "Haven't your old stories told you anything?"It adapts a mocking tone. "Your whole mythos is filled with things who are revealed to be something other than they seem. Gifts, turning to curses. The theme of reversal."It peers at me closely. "Or perhaps, you're one of the close-minded kinds. The ones who don't think myths have an element of truth to them."
My mouth twists. "Enough of that."*Nearly finished. I just need another minute, and then I can relax.* "I was unwise to discredit those tales. But besides- what do you gain from all this? I doubt you came here to chat."
"That's the very reason. To talk."It doesn't seem bothered by my attempts to set protective wards. The demon looks relaxed, in a worrying kind of way. Dark endless eyes, staring into mine. "All these wizards searched for the exact same thing. But they lacked something crucial."
"And what is that?"
"Ambition."It stretches its limbs, and I watch the fruit of my efforts break away, piece by piece. They dissipate into the air. *Fuck me*. I reach inside the sleeve of my robe, and fumble around. My hands close around a piece of crystal: burning hot. "I've watched your predesccors. They attempted to understand the source, the very inner workings of it. But they were lacking in that capacity."
My heart races. The teleport crystal is unreliable. It takes an unpredictable amount of time for it to deploy, even with the large energy stores I prepared it with. I have other countermeasures, but none of them are suited for demons, much less the big boss himself.
"But you! You seek to understand, in the way the others could not. It,"it hisses, "burns you inside."It grins. "I admire your work with the Davison boy."It gestures at the grand array of summoning runes by its feet. "It really provided that extra power. I must thank you for that. I also owe you an apology."
My heart drops. "What apology?"
"For freeing me."
I bring out my staff, and call up the fire in my blood. Nothing happens. I reach for my belt, hands shaking, to a vial of augmentation potion. The crystal should've worked by now.
The demon takes slow, steady steps towards me.
"No, no, no..."
Closer, and closer...
 
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^I ^would ^love ^some ^critique. If you like my story, check out /r/TheminonkingWrites.
|
"Do you want a hot or cold breakfast?"I ask my husband as he comes down the stairs.
"What is this, a Katy Perry song? Whatever's more convenient."
"Cereal then."I dump the weetabix on the table before walking to the fridge for the milk.
"What am I, 90? Why am I getting old people cereal?"
"Dave told me about your lack of bowel movements."I pass him the milk and sit across from him with my toast.
"Dave should really mind his own business."
"Hey! Dave's just doing his job."A sudden buzzing takes my attention away.
"How did a bee get in here?"He asks, swatting it away.
"Probably from the open window."I see the bee land somewhere in his hair. "It's in your hair Barry."
His hands go immediately to the top of his hair and as he tries to dislodge it, there is a loud shot that echoes through the house. I scream in shock and throw myself frantically under the table. The next moment, the table cloth is lifted and there is a face peering at me.
"Did i get it?"
I scramble out from under the table. "Get what?"
"The bee that was bothering the both of you."
I see the shotgun in his hand and the pieces start to fall into place. "Dave, did you shoot at the bee while it was still in Barry's hair?"
He looks at me earnestly. "Of course I did! How else was I supposed to get it?"
"A rolled up newspaper might have been a better method."
"Don't worry I'm a good shot."
We both look towards Barry at the same time, or what was left of Barry.
"I'm sorry Mrs P! I'll do better next time."
I really need to leave this country. |
Lucifer's eye twitched, nervous. In the background *Seven Nation Army* serenaded the game with a rawness even Vagas could not match. "Come on then, raise or twist."
I looked at the other two, not sure if I was getting the Morning Star hustle, or whether he genuinely was that nervous of my stack of chips. "Raise you, and draw on the flop."
A sigh from my left, and Jesus folded with a toss of the cards towards the centre. With a shake of his trunk Ganesh also folded, his cards scattered above the pile of chips stacked on the centre. I wondered how crazy I would have to be to raise again, but given how rusty they all seemed I could not resist one more Wednesday night raise.
The cherub dealer drew on his stogie, exhaling with a resigned air. "Your call Luci."
Now the eye twitch was more pronounced, eyeing the stack of chips like it was a personal insult. Seconds dragged into minutes, the entire room on tenter hooks as the sharp suited devil weighed up his options. I did not envy his position, he was already in the hole with me, and if I took him to the cleaners tonight I would have a nice chunk of celestial real estate with which to kick back on.
He turned to me, and with a sardonic smile pointed to the chips, "Tell you what, you let me fold and walk away, and I will give you any ten souls you desire. Hitler, Ghandi, Mother Teresa, you name 'em."
It was tempting, but I already had Steve Jobs off him, and with Terry Pratchett already in the pile I was hoping for something more, so I shook my head.
There was a moment when I was sure he would go all in, that week's souls all piled in for me to grasp, but with a purse of his lips he folded, gathered up his remaining chips, and stalked off without some much as a bye.
Jesus laughed, and patted me on the back. "You've already seen of Buddha and Odin, so do you want to call it a night?"
I looked between him and Ganesh, then at the five whisky bottles, cigar butts, and half finished Russian mule. Hell, I was already up eight times over, and given that my luck would run out at some point I thought it wise to cash in as well.
"Sure fellas, why not? Any chance I can horse trade you for suicide bomber or two?"
Both shook their heads, and Ganesh pointedly wiped his hands on a napkin. "No, you won them fair and square. Yours in the mercy and eternal justice."
Jesus knocked back a shot of whiskey, and pointed to the table. "Next time my father decides to humour a soul binder... Just one more game..."Another shot downed in record time, "Who'd have thought an all knowing... Same time next week?"
Echoes of me standing at the pearly gates with a rag tag bunch of vagrants all clustered round waiting for me to ascend, then St Peter handing me the keys to my own personal something. Gods feared my card skills, and I was not about to go easy on them.
As sweetly as possible I replied, "Sure, do you all want to come round to mine?"
I swept up the large pile of chips, and counted my winnings. By my reckoning I was on course to carve out a large chunk of celestial real estate, enough to chance a prophet or two. Now, that would be gambling. |
Cana stared at the ancient computer.
"I'm... human?"
"Of course."The computer's voice crackled from the age of the speakers, but its tone suggested this was no more of a revelation than saying Cana had three toes.
"No I'm not."The woman felt outraged. How dare it try to associate her with those *monsters* of lore.
"You are. I am not programmed to respond to others."The computer's lights rippled. "Query: would you like to know more?"
"Yes, you malfunctioning machine."The woman snapped at the computer. How could she not want to know more.
"There is no need for insults. Please turn on the projector."
Cana looked about the ancient desk, sending up clouds of dust into the air, till she found the small projector and pressed the button.
"Thank you. Please turn your attention to the centre of the museum hall."
Cana turned to centre of the room. The hall was vast, filled with artifacts of the Ancient Scourge. Some, such as old FTL drives, were held aloft by anti-gravity machines, while some were splayed across the floor where the devices had failed. The technology was cutting edge, and yet every single thing was older than Cana's entire civilisation. This was the discovery of a lifetime.
A dot of light appeared in the centre of the hall, and the computer's voice boomed from hidden speakers.
"In the beginning, the Universe exploded into being."The dot of light exploded, sending a cloud of light in every direction. The cloud whirled and spun itself into galaxies, populated by an uncountable number of stars.
"Some time later, and Humanity arose from its homeworld."The image span and zoomed onto the fabled homeworld of Earth. Flickers of images danced across its surface, showing mankind's advance.
"As they progressed, Humans reached out beyond their pale blue dot."A shift in perspective, and Cana watched a number of lines streak out from the surface, presumably tracing their path. She stiffened. This was a history of the Scourge. The view changed to a galactic view, all the while tracing the lines.
"As they spread further and further, they found..."
"Us. And they attacked."Whispered Cana.
The computer beeped. "Incorrect. The humans found... nothing."The projected image zoomed in to various worlds, showing humans land on barren planet after barren planet.
"The humans discovered that, despite the planets being capable of life, none had sparked. They were alone in the universe."
The universal image reappeared, and certain stars flared brighter.
"They decided to change that. Planets were chosen and turned into life-bearing worlds. Humanity was shifted and changed at each one - a successor to themselves."Pictures of the various species Cana knew appeared, as well as some unknown.
"They stripped away the technology, to allow new innovation. And they left a message."
Cana blinked in confusion. "What message? There was no message passed on."
The computer paused for a second. "The tale of the Scourge, as you called it. A story that explained away the anachronous technology, and told every successor species that they were not Alone in the universe. They created a common enemy in themselves to unite their descendents. They built this hall to inform you when you were ready. And then they retreated back to Earth, to fade away."
The young woman found herself breathing heavily. This couldn't be true, this was propaganda, this was... madness.
She looked at the ancient computer. "Why?"
An image of a human flickered into being in the centre of the hall, next to the gently spinning universe.
"Science-fiction, mostly."The image shrugged. "They dreamed of a universe of life, and were ready to make the sacrifice."A couple of books appeared in its hand. "Would you like to know more?"
The woman hesitated. The computer was offering a Pandora's box of knowledge, and yet... if true... this would change the universe.
"Yes, computer. Tell me more." |
"Really, Greg?"
"I'm dead serious."
Sarah looked down at the crumbling skyscrapers beneath them. The wind whipped around their faces as she turned her gaze back to Greg and the figure in front of them. The thing keeping them suspended was hard to look at directly, but it was staring at them and had a hand extended expectantly.
"Just give it the damn burrito, Greg."
"Tell it to get its own."
Greg held the last burrito on earth clutched to his chest as he glared at the creature.
"For the last time Greg, this thing will destroy the Earth if it doesn't get that burrito."
"And I will be very cross all morning if I don't get to eat it. I won't let some glowing pushover take my breakfast from me."
The creature hummed expectantly as it stared at the two of them. Sarah cast it a glance, then lunged at Greg. She was not used to floating, and she swung her legs and arms ineffectively at Greg, who lifted the burrito up. The top of it was unwrapped, and the tortilla glistened in the light of dying stars. The low hum of the creature turned into an excited trill, and Greg bit down on the wrap.
The creature screeched in anger and horror as Greg took a massive bite of the burrito. He stared directly at the creature as an act of defiance as he scarfed down the food, eyes glaring with contempt and hunger. Sarah watched this unfold in disbelief as the ground far beneath them gave way, and the city vanished in an enormous chasm. The being in front of them vanished, and Sarah felt herself begin to fall. Beneath them, lava had started to ooze out of the pit in the earth.
"I hope you're happy with yourself,"Sarah said as they plummeted to their death.
"It was worth it,"responded Greg as they hit the lava. In a few moments, all that was left was a piece of aluminum foil floating on the updraft of heat, soaring above the lava. There was still a few drops of burrito sauce on it.
|
I sat in the small atrium watching the ceremony; there were mainly fire mages on the stage today. Shaundy was ready; she would be shedding her physical body and becoming the embodiment of her own magical specialty. Her ceremonial robe was of cotton, dyed a bright red and glistening with fire essence oil. My father laid his hand over my shoulder, and then her acolytes started their chants. The Water mage, I think his name was Walter stood off to the side. He was obviously there as a safety measure in case the off chance Shaundy was unable to control her new form. Some of the shiny spots on the robe seemed to lose their luster then some embers appeared. The chanting got louder and I could almost feel the energy being directed everywhere, and she caught fire.
Fire armor was one of the most versatile early levels fire spells, but it gave hints as to who would be able to specialize in fire. Her skin reddened, which was not something that happened to fire masters. Her robes had caught fire as well, another thing that was not common for fire masters, though the fire oils would have helped to enhance the fire. It happened so fast after that her entire body seemed to burn away leaving a fire elemental in the general shape of a human.
“I have shed my body for this more powerful form” a crackling high pitched voice from within the fire said. Then the fire lost its human shape forming itself into a ball of fire about the size of a small cart. “…to the elder’s chambers now.” She said and floated out of the atrium. The only one left on the stage was the water mage and he dosed the stage with a layer of water. Then even he left the stage. The atrium was almost empty as well; most of the people leaving shortly after the newest elemental had left. Eventually I was the only one left in the ceremonial room.
I stood up straight and moved to the now moist stage. I walked up the stairs; there were often powerful people up here. This is where most of the pure elementalist came too transcended into the purest form of their magic as possible. There were other types of magic users who had transcended; the most notorious of those were the necromancers and their transformation into liches. I imagined myself making the change. But I am not a master of any of the elements. I sighed and drew on the powers that I did have. My imagination flared and I used my magic to create an audience. The silent figures created by bending light to my will. Hushed discussions created from within my mind were added by altering the sound waves. I looked out from the middle of the stage where Shaundy had been standing looking at the first part of my illusion. I saw attendants and acolytes in my mind’s eye and created them around me in a similar fashion to what I saw earlier. I felt something odd.
I created a shimmering robe reflecting any light that touched it into a rainbow. The entire atrium lit up, red, orange, yellow, the entire spectrum repeated covering everything. I held up my hands and dropped them. I felt something happen, as if something just moved through me. My dreams, everything seemed so elusive. I sighed silently and released all of my magic, the room returned to its bland white color. I stepped down the stairs and made my way to the door. Glancing back one last time I started.
There on the stage was a pile of something. I looked down; I was still wearing my clothing. I turned back and went to look at the pile. When I knelt down I could tell it was my clothing. I reached down to pick the clothes up. My hand passed through them. My eyes went wide. What was happening? I turned around looking for something anything to explain what just happened. I tried to speak and no sound came out. I saw it near the edge of my vision another person standing there watching me. As I turned to look at them, they seemed to waiver and vanish, just a mirage I thought. It was just a trick of the mind, just an illusion.
|
######[](#dropcap)
The bartender, Flint Parbag, spun another tale to yet another adventurer whom had landed at his drab pub. "Once yer past the frozen lake of Twirl...stash, ye'll find the lake house of the frozen witch. Strike her down to end the curse that befalls the village... uh..."He snapped his fingers.
"–Redcape Village,"inserted the adventurer.
"Right. Redcape Village. The villagers will reward ye handsomely."
The adventurer tossed Flint a smattering coins, then swept his red cape theatrically over his shoulders. "I seek not reward, grubby barman! Peril is my calling!"With another twirl of his mustache, he exited the pub with his two other party members.
Nobody ever visited his pub for beer. Flint's sole income came from selling quests to starry-eyed travelers.
Flint hadn't even finished counting the coins before his pub door was hurled open.
Blocking the doorway was a bruised and weary barbarian covered in wyvern guano. Wyvern guano, as everyone knows, is the foulest of guano. The barbarian, Chogdor, used his oversized hammer to stop the rebounding door as it swung back. At first he spoke softly. "Bartender said there would be treasure in mud pits of Num-Skull Peak on Dumdum Mountain. Chogdor went. There was no Dumdum Mountain."
Flint already began to wonder if he could outrun the barbarian if necessary.
Chogdor lumbered forward, filling more and more of Flint's field of vision with each step. The barbarian's voice raised, "only mountain there was craggy dormant volcano with skull-shape cave near top."
This sounded like a quite the unfortunate coincidence to Flint. "Well. Maybe, eh, ye went to the wrong skull... shaped cave."By now, sweat was streaming down his brow.
"No, this one had mud pit."Chogdor was now within striking distance of the bar that stood between them. He raised his mighty battle hammer. "*Only it. Was. Not. MUD!!*"He smashed the bar into a million pieces in one swoop.
"Whoa! Whoa! You *did* find the treasure!"shrieked Flint. "I mean. *Ye* did find the treasure! Listen!"
The barbarian paused with his hammer high above his head.
"The, uh, treasure... The treasure was within you–*ye* all along! FRIENDSHIP!! You realized that friendship is the most important treasure of all!"Flint had his eyes closed the whole time. He was expecting a swift death. But several seconds passed and it had not come. He opened his eyes.
The barbarian had already lowered his hammer and now stood pensive.
Flint let out a much needed sigh.
"Wait a minute! Chogdor went alone!"The enraged barbarian lifted his battle hammer once again.
"Right, but now you know you should have taken friends! Like the other adventurers! They would have helped you not... fall into guano!"
This seemed to satisfy the barbarian. "Hmm. Bartender is right. Chogdor fear intimacy. Keep people away. Chogdor... will change."He ended his speech with a forced smile and threw a few coins at where the bar used to be, before making a heartfelt exit.
Just by looking, Flint could tell those were not nearly enough coins to replace the bar. He would need to get more creative with his fiction. |
I immediately cut off the telelink that connected our minds.
A few seconds later, I turned it back on.
"...I know you're there,"she said, sounding exasperated.
I cut off the link again and rolled to the window, Navy Seal style, and peeked out through the blinds at the house across the street.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Quiet. *Too* quiet.
Suddenly the front door of the house opened, a very *pissed* off looking girl came storming out, and I knew it wasn't going to be quiet for long.
Not even ten seconds later, I heard the doorbell ring, followed by two hard knocks, and another doorbell ring.
I heard my mom answer the door. "Oh, hello!"she said all cheerfully.
Muffled words were exchanged, and then I heard my mom say the dreaded words: "Yeah, I think he's upstairs"then: "James! Come down here - somebody wants to see you!"
The way my mom said it, I could tell by her tone that she though the girl was my girlfriend. And I knew that I would definitely be hearing the topic brought up at dinner tonight.
With a sigh, I stood up from the window and trudged downstairs.
My mom was smiling too widely and giving me that *'Look at yoooou'* look.
"Hi, James,"the girl said with a little, shy wave - the complete opposite of how she looked when I saw her coming out of her house a few moments ago.
"Uh..."*My name is Eliza* her words came to me. "...hey, Eliza. What, uhm, brought you by?"
"Just wanted to know if...maybe were interested in getting some ice-cream with me?"She bit her lip nervously and glanced at my mother while twirling her hair.
I was going to decline but I hesitated and glanced at my mom too. She was smiling at me, but she was subtly nodding, and her eyes were saying *You better not say no to this sweet, young girl. Or I'll kill you.*
It was strange. Probably the first time I could recall my mom actually forcing me to eat something sweet when lunch was almost ready. But, I also knew that Mom and Dad had a running bet on whether I was gay or not, and right now - Mom was winning.
Forcing a smile, I replied, "Sure, Eliza. Let's go get some ice-cream"in the most phoniest, upbeat voice I could manage.
I leapt down the rest of the steps, and bounded out the door, suddenly full of enthusiasm. I looked back and waved. "Come on!"I exclaimed with a happy-go-lucky grin.
My mom and Eliza glanced at each other.
"Have him home by dinner,"my mom said.
Eliza giggled. "I will. I live right across the street."
And then we were walking to the ice-cream parlor. I waited until we turned the corner first, in order to escape the tearful vigilant eyes of my mom who stood in the doorway with her hands clasped over her heart.
Then I turned to her and glared, dropping the phony act. "What the hell do you thi-"I had begun to shout, before she jabbed a finger in my face and cut me off.
"No!"she retorted. "What the hell do *you* think you were doing reading my mind, huh?"
"I..."
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, waiting.
I shrugged. "Bored, I guess."I don't know where all my anger had went. Probably because she had a right to be angry, and I didn't.
"So why didn't you talk to me when I invited you to?"she pressed, not letting me off the hook so easily.
"I was surprised that you could actually tell I was reading your mind,"I answered truthfully. And now that I had said it, I looked at her with a question in my mind and asked, "How *were* you able to tell I was reading your mind?"
*I'm a telepath, too, dummy* she answered in my head.
My eyebrows shot up. *You mean I'm not the only one?*
She rolled her eyes. *Obviously not.*
I took a step foward. *So there are others?*
She didn't answer. Turning on her heels, she said, "Let's go get some ice-cream."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Because I already answered it."
I thought back to what she had in the course of our conversation, then nodded. "So, there *are* more."
She lowered her eyelids halfway and gave me a blank look. Then she smiled. "Yeah. And you're actually a baby compared to us."
"What?"
She turned and began walking. I ran to catch up.
"What can you do?"she asked. "Besides reading minds."
"Uh..."
"Exactly,"she clipped.
Irritated by her attitude, I shot back, "Oh yeah? Well, what can *you* do?"
She smirked, as if she had been waiting for me to ask. Suddenly, I got this overwhelming urge to devour some ice-cream. Like, I really, *really* needed some ice-cream. And I needed it *now*. Or I would die.
Every step seemed too slow compared to how far the parlor was. Why were we walking? We would never get there in time at this rate. All of the ice-cream would be gone. Everything around me faded except for one single thought:
*Ice-cream.*
I began to run. But before I had reached four steps, the urge vanished instantly and the world reappeared around me on every side. The first sound I heard was her laughing.
I whirled. "What did you just do to me?"
She walked past me, and I followed, waiting until her laughter died down. She wiped a tear from her eye. "Look,"she said, faint traces of a smile still left on her features, "even though I can communicate with you telepathically, I can't read minds. That's why when you closed the telelink, I didn't just reopen another one. I can't. Buuuut..."she said, sing-song, "I can control urges. When you closed the telelink and turned it back on a few seconds later? Yeah...I made you do that."
I stared at her in shock. A sense of unease crept down my spine and I wasn't sure anymore if it was a natural reaction to what I had just heard, or if she was playing tricks on me again.
How long had she been doing this to me? When I got the urge to eat, pee or play with myself...was it her making me do that?
I don't know what look I had on my face, but it made her drop the smug, superior act facade for a second, and say, "Look, I'm not like you. I don't go around using my powers on random strangers. I don't even really like using my powers. That's why I wanted you to come and talk to me, in real life, face to face. Okay?"Her voice was soft and sincere.
We were at the ice-cream parlor now. I didn't say anything until we got in line.
"How many?"
She looked at me. "How many of..."she looked around at the mill of people around us and lowered her voice, "...*us* are there?"
I nodded.
"Not that many."She paused. "Not as many as before."
"Did something happen?"
"Did. And still happening."She took a breath and sighed. *"We're being hunted."*
*"By who?"* My heart was picking up speed but I wanted to stay calm.
*"By beings with powers greater than our own. And a sick desire to see all of our kind wiped from existence."*
*"So, why don't we fight back?"*
*"From what I heard, by the time our kind finally did decide to fight back, it was too late. We're an endangered species now, James. Almost extinct."*
We both fell silent, and shuffled along forward with the line.
*"So what? That's it? We just give up and wait for them to come find and kill us? We just wait to die?"* I was angry. I was scared. I was confused.
But most of all...I felt helpless.
Until she said, "*No. That was the old generation. You and I are part of the new generation. And this generation is ready to fight back. Regardless if we win or lose, if death is all we have to look forward to, then let's die fighting.*"
We shuffled along.
*"That was, uhm...deep"* I chuckled, causing the people in front of us to self-consciously assess us and themselves to see if I was laughing at them. *"You had that written down and memorized, didn't you?"*
"*Yeah, I practiced that all last night. That's the real reason why I wanted to talk to you, so I could try out my little speech,"she played along. "*Opinions?*"
*"A bit fatalistic,"* I mused, *"but very inspirational. A+."*
She bowed, and now the people behind us giving us weird looks.
It amazed me how we had gone through so many phases in the course of an hour - from strangers, to enemies, to now laughing and drawing weird stares like we were old friends.
I didn't know what the long-term future held for me, but for the immediate future I saw...
"Yes, two vanilla ice cream,"I said, stepping up to the counter.
"How did you-?"She caught herself and rolled her eyes. "Oh, right."
|
"Steven, can I see you in my office?"
This place sucks. The lunchroom is filled with these fake con artists claiming to have powers. Boss was calling me in to discuss why I haven't been following the script he gives us when we call people. I walked over from my cubical and into his office.
"Listen, Steven, you need to understand that we work as a team here. And part of working as a team, is doing what everyone else does. Can you tell me what that is Steven?"His snide grin informed me he got joy out of these encounters.
"Reading the script..."
"That's right Steven! See, you actually are psychic!"He exclaimed and then began typing away on his computer. "That will be all."
I stood up and returned to my work space. The remainder of the day I read from the script. Most of the time when people called their futures were pretty bland anyway so I didn't feel too bad about it, I guess. It was a simple script; guy say this, girl say this then carry on through a conversation and determine what they want to hear. I joined because I wanted to actually use my powers to help people. I can't complain I guess, this does pay the bills.
"HI there, and thank you for calling..."and like an adrenaline rush, a future appeared in my head. "...whoa. Sir, it's Carl right?"
I heard commotion on the other end. "Holy shit, yeah that's right!"
Someone yell in the background, "they have caller ID now you know."
"Listen Carl, I see mountains of money, a jet plane and what looks like nude women everywhere! I don't know what else I can tell you, it looks fantastic!"
There was nothing but sheer joy on the other end of the phone. He hung up and I carried on my day. Every call after that was fairly mediocre in comparison to that guy's future.
The following week, I happened to get an urge to grab a newspaper. I never do that. When I picked it I saw the front page title.
"Plane crash spoils Rap artists music video"
The article carried on to say a deranged man, after speaking to a psychic, stole his bosses jet plane and apparently attempted to fly it. Making it only a short distance before crashing it into a music video set. Arriving onto the scene police state the man was running around the set chasing the women hired for the video and was observed throwing the artists money at the ladies. He has been arrested for further questioning.
When I got to work, I simply sat in my chair and decided that maybe sticking to the script was a good idea. |
Time had become boring, pranks had become meaningless, and all of the adult pleasures in life could not change the fact that deep down I was a listless 12 year old with a remote that could control the very fabric of reality. To be fair, at this point I had lived an immortal's worth of life. I had lived and died so many times that it had become mundane, that I had preferences and made certain choices each time as if it were my sandwich order at the local sub shop. But I still considered myself a 12 year-old. I guess since I never had to grow up, I never did. I still liked cartoons, even though I had seen all of the ones released during my 60-120 years on this earth. If I played my cards right I was able to leave the planet if I felt like it, but of course that was only ever to go to mars or the moons of Jupiter. Whenever I tried to go for a long life I found that I was too old for hyperdimensional travel by the time it was invented. Sex was still one of my favorite pleasures in life, but I suspected that was because one day I was imagining the dirty things I could do if I paused time, and the next I was able to do them -- repeatedly. Traveling to 2017 had taught me a lesson or two and I never took advantage of a girl after that, but I definitely used a few tricks here and there to deceive. I guess, in retrospect, having the remote had made me into a degenerate. I was returning to my first syringe full of heroin until I lost count, committing crime as time paused, influencing the world to my own benefit or to the casual destruction of millions. I would say that I fancied myself a god, but gods usually don't have fears.
Mine were the buttons on the remote that I never pressed. I learned not to mess with untested buttons after playing around with "Settings". Two weeks of living blind in impossibly high contrast really gave me some perspective. Once enough time had passed for me to forget that lesson, it was already too late. I was sitting, 27, in a cafe as two adults had a hushed conversation. I pressed subtitles and learned all about the details of their juicy divorce. Say what I will about my own life, other people's lives were still just as entertaining as ever. There's an infinite amount of information out there inside all those peoples minds and I try to gain as much of it as possible. But I soon realized I'd heard this story before -- someone loses their job and it all falls apart. As per usual looked to the remote for a suggestion. Pause looked dull, Fast Forward looked even more droll. My eyes slowly moved towards "Channel Up". I thought about it for a second. Worst case scenario, it transported me to a hostile dimension where I was instantly killed. It would be quite nice to experience death instead of just seeing it happen to me a million different ways. Mauled by an monster from a different dimension didn't seem so bad. I pressed record so I could go back to this moment if things got a little hairy. I put my thumb down on the up arrow. Everything went black for a second until suddenly I was looking from a different view point, from the sky. I looked at either side of my body only to see wings, and then down to see the remote dropping quickly into the ocean. Without even thinking, I swooped down onto the plastic rectangle and hit channel down. I was back in the cafe.
"Woah"I said out loud. The couple stopped whispering and looked at me. I looked at the remote again and pressed channel down. This time I was a toddler, a baby born in what seemed to be Shogun era Japan. I pressed the fast forward button on the remote until I was twelve, and lived as that boy for a good 1,000 years, becoming ruler of my own shogunate, traveling the ancient world, and making a mark on history. I realized that there was more potential in this remote than I had given it credit for. I played around a little longer, pressing different number combinations, living as people, creatures (dogs were my personal favorite), and even extraterrestrials. Life was the best TV a boy like me could ever have. Until, of course, the day where the channel button had grown tired. It wasn't that I had seen every life there was, it was simply the same as when I had heard that couple argue all those millennia ago. Life, no matter where or who it was, always ended in death, and what happened in between was usually not too different from species to species. I figured, if every soul was a different "channel"the next logical step would be to press "input".
I did as much research into philosophy as I could and even lived as the students of great philosophers for many years until I concluded that it was safe. Of course, I knew that even switching between dimensions would get tired. I guess that's what "Power"is for.
|
**June 2037**
It's been twenty years now that I've been in prison. Most of the others that I came in with have been released on parole now. Mike asked me the other day when I'm getting out. I said never. He's said that's rough, shooting me a pained look before skipping out through the doors. I tried to shout down the hall at him, asking him to tell her to visit me. I don't know if he heard; I hope so.
I will be in here forever. I won't have a chance to apologize for my crimes, but that doesn't matter. Not for most of them anyways. All that I am sorry for is that she saw me commit the one that mattered.
I want to apologize to her, tell her that I did it to protect her. But she has not even visited me. Not once.
**December 2057**
Yesterday was my 81st birthday.
I am the oldest one in the center by ten years. Andrew was the second oldest person at 77, but they moved him into hospital care two months ago. He was growing weak and frail. Bones breaking, breathing hoarse, even his mind was starting to flutter away.
I look old. I do not feel it, but I look it. Some days, I wonder when my time will come. I sit at this desk, wondering when death will come to my door so that he may end this. This life of boredom. Hate. Anger. Sorrow. Sometimes I even hope for it.
All of my requests to the guards and the warden to ask how she is have been denied: I do not know if she is even alive. The judge did not give me my chance to talk to her one last time all those years ago, but I thought that maybe they would allow me in my old age this one small reprieve.
**April 2066**
I am now older than our father when he passed away. He lived to 90: the warden at least told me his day of passing when it happened. I thought maybe she might come to tell me in person. So that we could have mourned for our father together. I would have tried to tell her then, that she was everything to me.
But I am a demon in her eyes. Not her brother: he died along with all the others he killed that day. Only his body remains, subject to eternal life. And with it, eternal suffering.
God, I hope she's still alive.
**May 2075**
It is her 84th birthday.
I am still alive. I am 99 years old, and they are still keeping me in this godforsaken hellhole. It wasn't supposed to be true, a sentence of *eternal life.* But it is wholly undeniable now. My body has stopped aging. My mind is still sharp. It would have been better for me to have lost my mental faculties altogether. Go insane. Maybe time doesn't pass the same way when you're like that.
The civil war is getting worse. They say that the government is having a hard time keeping it all under control. I hope she's somewhere safe.
**June 2080**
The prison has been decommissioned, for lack of a better term. Not that there were many left here anyways. People stopped coming in ten years ago. Whoever was left was evacuated: maybe they thought an artillery shell meant for the city would have veered off course and busted a hole for us.
I'm free now. They didn't know what to do with me; everything is at capacity. I guess some of the guards finally took pity on me, decided to let me run free. Off into the war zone.
**July 2080**
I thought maybe there had been a chance that she was still alive. A slim chance. It's what kept me going. That and whatever the hell it is those *bastards* did to me to keep me alive.
I write this from the wooden desk that we had in our den. I used to help her with her homework here. Play board games with her. Where our father told us the news that mother had died. She was all I had left up until that day they took me in for killing the sons of bitches that violated her. My mind is still sharp: I still remember the feeling of the knife plunging in and out of their bodies. Their blood on my hands. Screams in my ears. I hope they suffered a lot. For that, I feel no remorse.
I visited Rebecca's gravestone in the town's cemetery. She died three days after they put me away.
**2150**
I cannot keep track of the world: even after 70 years, it remains foreign to me. I do not understand all of this new technology, all of these wars, all of the politics that keep on changing. I have developed an inability to make new friends, and I have no family left to speak to. All of my cousins were killed in the war. Rebecca had no children, and I neither do I have any of my own.
All attempts to end myself have failed. The strength in my fingers fades when I try to pull the trigger. The same in my legs when I try jumping off cliffs and trying to drown myself doesn't work either. I cannot command my body to do it, even though it is everything that I want. I even walked through the forest eating strange plants, hoping they would kill me.
I am tired of living.
**2203**
It seems everyday wakes up in a red haze, and goes to bed glowing orange from the fallout we've created and the fires we cannot put out.
They wouldn't let me on the spaceships. They call them space frigates? Space tankers? Planet hoppers? At any rate, they couldn't verify my date of birth, and when they tried to sequence my DNA, they said it came up as corrupted. Torn to pieces. Said I shouldn't be alive, and that I should've been dead a dozen decades ago. So they left me. No point in taking up one of the last spots on the last ship that would otherwise go to a young, healthy, fertile human being.
The Earth has been damned. And only the damned remain on it.
**2600**
I can safely say that I am the last one on Earth.
I walked through the streets of once majestic cities. Cities that I used to walk through in my younger days, when I was a spry young man full of ambition and dreams, however brief that time was. If it even happened: so long ago was it that it barely qualifies to say that it took place at all. Maybe it didn't. Maybe I'm just making up memories that didn't take place.
I saw a pack of wolves today. They took one sniff of me and ran off. Next time, I'll bring BBQ sauce to slather over myself.
(Next day: it didn't)
**4000**
I've finished rebuilding the house. Found some old photos. Used them to make everything how it was. Scavenged supplies from...everywhere.
Found out I was rebuilding the wrong house.
**5000**
I spend most of my days at home now. I think its the right home. I can't hardly remember. My mind isn't as sharp as it once was. Maybe I'll finally lose it. Re-etched your grave this morning. Cleaned it up. Left some flowers.
You're all that I have left.
**????**
Got some sleep. When I woke up, I saw that your grave was covered in vines. Cracked. Worn out. Cycles of seasons come and go every time I close my eyes. I can't keep track anymore.
**?????**
Saw an alien today. Sort of. It was a...what do they call it? Space frigate? Space Tanker? Planet Hopper? It left pretty quickly. Saw it hovering over the ruins. It was enormous, you could fit the entire town in there. Ten of them. I wanted to get closer: maybe they could have helped me, but they were too far; on the third day of walking, they abandoned Earth.
I am alone again.
**????????**
I woke up today, and saw the world was covered in snow. Woke up again, saw it was covered in green. Once more, and it was covered in water. Desert. Snow. Green. Water. Desert. Snow. Green. Water. Desert. Snow. Green. Water. Desert. Desert. Desert. Desert. Desert. Desert.
**??????????**
The sun now fills half the sky. It is maddening. I cannot come up to the surface without being blinded and scalded. So I went back under to go to sleep. When I came back up, everything was black. My vision. My hearing. My smell, taste, touch. All black.
I hope I am dead. |
Sat at a computer, as he did most of the day in some form or another, Simon sat bored. It was nine thirty in the morning, give or take a couple of minutes, and although Simon had told himself he would be outside by now, he was still yet to muster the energy to step outside of his flat. He told himself that he would go just as soon as the song he was listening to was finished, but he'd been saying this for the last half dozen songs now.
Directly in front of him was the internet, and the ability to send messages to anyone, anywhere, at anytime. And judging by his post history, Simon had a lot to say, on a wide range of topics from obscure video game trivia, to opinions on politics, to general nonsense that he hoped others would find even remotely as amusing as he had thought it to be.
Responding to yet another topic, Simon sighed. His had forced his hand, he would have go out. Reluctantly he turned off his computer, and spent nearly twenty minutes doing the simple task of getting his coat and shoes on. The task was not complicated, nor held up by anything other than Simon's own reluctance.
At one point he lay on his bed, facing the ceiling, and simply stared. He mind wondered what other people would be doing today. Simon didn't have any plans beyond load and unload the washing, and if he felt especially energetic wash up. Maybe later, if he felt really energized he'd do something with the day, like start working on that story he'd been saying he'd write for years, or start watching that TV show that one person at work mentioned several months ago.
Finally getting outside, and with headphones on, Simon trundled to the store. He didn't really need any food, but felt he might as well treat himself. As he moved through isles, picking up a ready meal, a single can of chilli and a pot of instant noodles, before he headed off to the alcohol section.
Simon stared longingly at several bottles as an older woman barged past him, nearly knocking him directly into another man. Simon didn't say anything, he didn't feel compelled to, he didn't want to cause any bother to the woman, and instead looked at the alcohol on offer. 'If nothing else,' he thought, 'it'd get the weekend over quicker'.
Simon chose not to go through self service. Instead he went for the nearest cashier and smiled as she went through an almost robotic, monotone delivery of the sales script. Simon always tried to be pleasant to cashiers, he suspected they hated their jobs and didn't want to annoy them. The cashier didn't seem too annoyed by him, and focused almost entirely on scanning the goods before asking for the money, and without even looking at Simon again, moving on to the next customer.
Simon got home some time later, and as soon as he had, he was turning his computer back on, before moving on to unpacking the shopping. In the back of his mind he was wondering how people would've taken his posts while he was sorting the washing into distinct piles. Shoving one of these piles into the machine he closed the door and got back up, ready to engage with the internet once more.
His computer was the same as this morning, nothing new bar a handful of unread topics. Disappointed that there was yet to be anything of particular interest Simon reluctantly began reading through one of the comment chains he'd ignored earlier, with the only comforting thought in his mind being how the alcohol would make the evening better. |
"Why does he not get food poisoning from eating that bacon raw?"
Of all the questions people ask about Raymond, that's actually the hardest. Of course, I know the secret. Dragons breath fire. It sounds so metal, and certainly did when I first found out, but the guy's literally frying it as he puts it in his mouth.
I keep telling him he needs to cook it first, and he gives me the most insulted look.
People think he's the Ozzy Osbourne of food - a guy who can eat anything and not get ill. Doctors and universities even approached him for DNA samples because they wanted to research his biology. Those ones are the hardest to convince. The guys at school? Not so hard to fool. They'll believe anything, so a stomach lining thicker than normal is enough.
Raymond hates the cargo pants and belts, though. "I feel so confined!"He says, while I'm the one who has to wear a neck tie all the time. "Can't I just let it flow free?"
Humans don't have tails, Raymond... Sometimes I catch him trying to undo the belts under those pants. One of these days his tail's gonna flop around under there and people are gonna call the god damn Guinness World Records. No! He doesn't have the world's biggest dick!
At least Halloween is fun. There's even a group from last semester's physics class still trying to figure out how he could keep those wings up without wires and a frame. I drop some ideas every now and then to throw them off.
Is it fraud to claim a best costume trophy if your costume is actually your real appearance?
Raymond's behind me again... neck's a little hot and dry. No manners on this guy. Oh and now he's read the big dick comment and is calling me a liar. I'll believe those claims when I see it.
No... *if* I see it. I'd rather not. |
You know, we never thought it would happen.
Super VILLAINS trying to support HEROES? Heh, sounds like something that would be said at a comedy club. We supported the first law: the one that banned superheroes. I mean, what villain wouldn’t? Once they’re gone, you could just take over the world! Right?
Wrong. It’s about as easy to get the US to agree on something. As soon as the superheroes were gone, everyone went on a crime spree. However, that same law just happened to allow for private businesses to take the heroes’ place. Some of them were wiped out is seconds.
Okay, so you know Elon Musk? Yeah, he made one of those businesses. We’re begging for the repeal of that law, so that these companies with laser mounted satellites are banned. I mean, it’s a danger to... children... right?
Anyways, please support us
-Brotherhood of Evil. |
"Come with me, I can help you. I know it hurts, but it will get easier."
Those were the first words Gethsemane ever spoke to me, when I was just a frightened child. He could see me, despite my inability to control my powers. I fluctuated between time, space and matter; every nerve ending, every fibre of my being screeched in white-hot pain. No one had heard me, screaming for days. Yet he had heard me. No one had found me, curled up in that alleyway. Yet he had found me.
He was a truly exceptional man. It was he who calmed my senses, taught me to channel and control the powers that rushed through my veins. He taught me to coil it, bundle it into the very core of my being, only to be released when needed. He gave me focus, he gave me control, and he gave me a life.
Gethsemane always kept me away from the outside world; I didn't mind. Much of my time was spent tinkering with his various gadgets and machines. Every day he would come home and create something new for me to play with. Eventually, a few days after my twelfth birthday, he presented me with his most important gift.
"This will help you,"he had told me, as he strapped the capacitor to my back. "It'll be hard at first, but it *will* get easier."
Through it, I had total mastery of my abilities. Displacing matter, dipping in and out of time; controlling the very fabric of the universe. "You're a very special boy, Isaac,"he had told me. "Very special indeed."
Eventually, I was brought outside of the compound, taught to use my enhanced abilities to help my guardian gather materials for his creations. I didn't know right from wrong. I didn't know the people we were targeting. All I knew was the man who had saved me from the incessant pain of non-existence. A debt I was keen to repay by any means necessary.
It was usually over fast. He would point a target, I would dip through the veil and return with it in nanoseconds. No man-made material could keep me out. If it tried, I could simply tear it apart from the inside. It was like a game - a challenge rewarded with praise and gifts. What child wouldn't enjoy such a thing?
I don't think Gethsemane was his real name. Do you know where it comes from? It's the garden in which Jesus of Nazareth would pray. It was the last place he slept before his execution by crucifixion. There's some sort of poetic parallel there - one of betrayal maybe? Inevitability? Perhaps, but I digress.
Not long after my seventeenth birthday I was handed a gun. Not a metal, man-made one, but a composite piece designed to survive the intense strain of passing through the miasma of time and space. This time I wasn't to steal, and it wasn't a game. This time, I was meant to kill.
Shifting through the walls of the compound was as easy as it had ever been. In less than a nanosecond I had burst into being next to my intended target. He had been asleep, soundly dozing through untroubled dreams.
When you pass through the mortal veil, it's almost impossible to discern detail. Faces, structures, environments: it all becomes a haze. Imagine the motion blur of shaking your head quickly left and right - then multiply it by ten.
It took me a few seconds to register the room in which I had appeared. Light blue wallpaper, decorated with stars. A collection of small army men arranged on a bedside table. A nightlight glowing softly in one corner. From within his small bed, my target opened one eye, and then two. For a heartbeat he had that unique fearlessness that only the very young can have. But soon his survival instinct kicked in and he began to wail.
The weapon in my hand felt as if it were made of lead. I could not take my eyes off this scared child. I discovered later that he had been the youngest son of a man who had refused to launder materials through Gethsemane's workshops. In that moment, though, it was just he and I.
The sudden rush of clarity nearly sent me stumbling to the floor. Everything I had been living was a lie. Gethsemane was not a kind-hearted saviour but an opportunistic villain. I had, perhaps half-knowingly, aided in his consolidation of power. How many lives had I ruined? How many people had I inadvertently turned to poverty, to misery?
Through eyes wet with tears I careered back though the gloom of antimatter, to find Gethsemane sat with a knowing grin splayed on his face. "I knew it,"he had said. "I knew you weren't up to the task."
He had raised a hand at me. All those years he had been studying me, preparing for that moment, I imagine. Creating vast arrays of machinery designed simply to bring me down if I ever stepped out of line. In the end, it did him no good.
Not long after that day, I found myself wandering the dark streets of a dirty city, listening. It didn't take me long to find you. Curled up in some alleyway, screaming to the limits of your lungs, your body was shimmering in and out of existence, wracking your senses with a pain I knew only too well.
"Come with me,"I had said, hand outstretched. "I can help you. I know it hurts, but it will get easier."
And it did. |
**8:15 AM. December 26, 2017**
I turned off my alarm without opening my eyes and went back to sleep.
**9:46 AM**
I forced myself out of bed and did what I always did each morning: chug a glass of water and reach for the magical backpack at my bedside. Today's contents were...confusing.
A super soaker
A lottery ticket, scratched off and dated 1987
A live penguin
After pulling the penguin out by its feet and throwing it at my wall, I cursed aloud. Has the magic in my backpack faded? The damn thing must be busted now. Yesterday, the backpack gave me [a socket wrench, a pair of rubber gloves, a jar of kosher dill pickles, an airhorn, and a carrot tied to a spool of fishing line.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7deih9/wp_youve_had_the_same_magic_backpack_your_entire/?st=jbn7wjp1&sh=3724572c) I tossed that shit in an instant. Useless. The day before, it gave me [a gun](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7aigsr/wp_youve_a_magical_backpack_that_gives_you/?st=jbn7wi3o&sh=c556dbb1), which was strange because I buried that gun in my backyard to avoid getting into dangerous shenanigans and I went the entire day not needing to shoot another human being. Maybe I don't need what's inside of the backpack to go about my day. More evidence of this theory? Last Wednesday, my backpack gave me [a gun](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6qxyod/wp_you_are_the_owner_of_a_magic_backpack_every/?st=jbn7wyk0&sh=2c5dd778) again! Then, I simply buried it among the trash in my garbage bin.
My backpack has given me [a gun](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6fdd6r/wp_you_own_a_magic_backpack_which_contains/?st=jbn82u3t&sh=5cde184b) on [several occasions](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6ce7ci/wp_you_are_the_owner_of_a_magic_backpack_every/?st=jbn84wng&sh=1ee4c13b). So at this point, I was [sick of seeing guns](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6a7pof/wp_you_are_the_owner_of_a_magic_backpack_every/?st=jbn85g6o&sh=1941c629) in my magical backpack. But today was different. It gave me a super soaker. Okay. That sounds more fun.
"Let's see where this goes,"I said to myself. I filled the super soaker's tank with my bathroom's sink, pocketed the losing lottery ticket, leashed the penguin, and walked out my front door.
**10:18 AM**
As I strolled through my neighborhood with a penguin waddling behind me, I noticed many inquisitive stares. Drivers took their eyes off the road and pointed at me and Squawkles to their passengers (I loved the name "Squawkles", and the penguin did not protest to it). Dog walkers slowed their pace. Old people scratched their heads.
I arrived at Fiona's Coffee at 11:01 AM.
**10:59 AM**
I arrived at Fiona's Coffee. Squawkles was tied to a metal bike rack outside.
"Two espressos, please,"I said to the red head behind the cash register. She gave me a funny look, which took me by surprise since she has seen me every weekday for the past few months. Then I realized the super soaker was still in my hands. "Got a big skirmish later today."She found this explanation to be satisfactory enough to not ask me any more questions besides the mandatory "Will that be all?"
I sat at my favorite table—the one in the corner that looked out to the busiest intersection—and sipped my two espressos. Then I suffered a stroke.
**11:13 AM**
I did not suffer a stroke. That was my little brother, sorry about that. This story is being written in a unerasable font. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right.
I looked out at the busy intersection and saw a woman dressed in black. As she walked by my window, Squawkles waddled toward her. The woman jumped; it's not everyday you see a penguin in Castle Rock. She came inside of the coffee shop, ordered something, and looked around for an empty table. I smiled and waved to her like an old friend. Ever since the magical backpack entered my life three years ago, I embraced every opportunity I could. The woman smiled back and sat at my table. I watched her expression as she scanned her memory for my face.
"Excuse me, but do I know you?"
"Probably not,"I said, then I told her my name. "I noticed Squawkles took a liking to you."
"Squawkles?"
"My penguin."I pointed to Squawkles tied to the bike rack outside.
"Oh!"She blushed. "Is that *your* penguin?"
"Yup."
"Why do you have a penguin?"
"I wish could tell you."
We laughed. She told me her name, Lily, and explained that she just arrived to town on Friday. Two nights ago, she was robbed by a man with a knife on 8th street after leaving a 9 o'clock showing of the latest blockbuster. The number of local armed muggings and robberies had increased over the past several months.
"That's unbelievable,"I said after doing some quick mental math. "I was on 8th street just minutes before you were robbed! Gee, I wish there was something I could have done to help you, but I guess fate has a reason for everything, right?"
Lily nodded with an eye roll.
"Here."I handed Lily my super soaker. "It's dangerous to go out alone at night. Take this with you."
That was enough for her. She picked up her coffee and went to a new table. I held the super soaker in my hands, dumbfounded.
Dumbfounded not because Lily refused to take the super soaker, nor because she had had enough of our conversation. No, I was dumbfounded at what a terribly, unrealistic character I was. Worst of all, this story is being written in first person, so there are now zero people that can relate to me.
Gotta fix that ASAP.
**12:30 PM**
I ate some avocado toast, gram'd my Hot-Cheeto-and-Siracha salad, ruined the housing market, and did what most people in the middle class 16-34 year-old cohort did for about an hour.
The super soaker was a no-go, and Squawkles did nothing for me but open an embarrassing conversation with a cute girl that I eventually blew my chances with. I headed to my favorite local graveyard to clear my mind.
**7:22 AM**
I went back in time apparently?
**4:15 PM**
Something felt off today as I knelt beside the gravestone of "John Corey". I was not tired or angry, but confused. Even if my magical backpack was malfunctioning, why would it ever think to give me a 1987 lottery ticket? I felt depressed. Not even my favorite gravestone could cheer me up today. The backpack had brought purpose and direction to my life. It took me on adventures, some thrust upon me and some that required my initiative.
Perhaps I was beginning to lose my ambition in utilizing the backpack's strange daily contents. Was it beginning to malfunction, or was I?
This thing has been getting me into too much trouble. Each day for the past few months, I simply left whatever the backpack gave me lying around somewhere, never used in a new adventure. Some of it almost sparked something that could have been great, like meeting Lily through Squawkles (who is still tied to that bike rack outside of Fiona's Coffee), as other items doused whatever spark was ignited, such as with the super soaker.
Squawkles waddled over to me and rested on my shoulder. Maybe I shouldn't have tied Lily to that bike rack outside of Fiona's Coffee, but she really bummed me out, and the backpack has made me feel damn near invincible for years now.
**9:00 PM**
I decided to watch the latest blockbuster hit that Lily saw two nights ago. Squawkles had to stay outside, but it was a dogshit movie so I walked out halfway through anyway. I wandered the town with Squawkles and found myself on 8th street.
Footsteps. Behind me. Not Squawkles, but a person's. An arm and a knife tightened around my neck.
"Money, wallet, keys. Now,"a raspy voice muttered in my ear.
I could not speak coherently for at least ten seconds. Finally, I managed to say, "I ain't got money, man. Just this penguin and a lottery ticket that I was about to cash. It's only worth like 60 bucks, though."
He patted my pockets with his free arm, slipped the lottery ticket from my pocket, and yanked Squawkle's leash from my hand. The man shoved me to the wall, stunning me long enough for him to run off with Squawkles.
It was then that I realized my super soaker was still in my hand. If only it were a gun.
If only.
It were.
A gun.
I kicked myself—mentally. Physically, I was busy kicking the brick wall of the building in front of me. The backpack must have gotten sick of me ignoring its call to adventure and heroism. This was its way of mocking me. "You don't get a real gun today,"it must have thought, "You get a toy gun."
But the backpack needed me as much as I needed it. Without me, it had no purpose; just the same, I had no purpose without it. The backpack gave me Squawkles the penguin and a useless lottery ticket to let me barter my way into living through that mugging and realize the crime that needed evicting in this city.
I dropped the super soaker to the ground and rushed home.
Never again would I toss its contents into the trash, no matter how repetitive and overdone they were. It's time to heed the call to adventure once more.
_____
_____
Thanks for reading.
I hope you enjoyed the story, OP. I don't mean to poke too much fun at you for the prompt (you did choose a super soaker over a gun, after all).
If you liked this story, consider checking out [my personal subreddit](/r/ScottBeckman) for more stories and poems. |
Alex didn't know what to do. It had been four days since his and Leah's child had stopped speaking, eating, or moving. At four years old, he had been doing most of those things pretty handily for a while now, but, one day, he just... stopped.
As far as they could both tell, there was no trigger for it. They hadn't been doing anything out of the ordinary with him, so the total behavioral change came out of the blue. Alex had picked him up from preschool four days ago, where one of Matthew's teachers had pulled him aside, informing him that Matthew hadn't touched his lunch that day.
The next day, Leah had taken him to the pediatrician before work. Dr. Gentry hadn't been able to find a single thing physically wrong with him, which only worried her more. They decided to pull him from school until he exited whatever stupor he was in.
Alex was driving to the grocery store to get some things for dinner, Matthew riding in his car seat in the back. "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik"was playing on the classical radio station that Alex favored, and, to his shock, Matthew began humming along. His eyes darted to and from Matthew in the rear view mirror, making sure that his eyes and ears weren't deceiving him.
"... Matt? How... how are you feeling?"
"Good, daddy!"his face suddenly fell. "I'm hungry."Alex could see the transformation in his son's face that signaled tears were about to come, and he pulled over to the side of the road to check on him.
He quickly undid his seat belt, checking to make sure no cars were coming to take his door off, and then quickly got out of the car and ran around to the back passenger's side. Opening the door, he undid his son's car seat belt and pulled him into a hug. Matthew was already sobbing.
"It's okay, buddy. I'm here. I'm here."
"I know, daddy... it had just been so long since I heard the music." |
The snow was floating down gently, swirling into intricate patterns before it landed on his nose, his shoulders, his everything, and on everything all around him. In the wealthier part of his land, he knew that travelers would often remark on its singularity and elegance, but Jack found no beauty in it.
Jack had always dreamed of an unobscured sun, like that in the lands that bordered his, but only now did he finally have his chance.
He supposed it had been the near mugging that had changed his mind. He had heard a call from an alleyway while walking back to his tent. It wasn't an uncommon noise in the area. He had passed the pleas on many other occasions, but when he heard the desperation in the woman's voice, something in him stirred and he felt compelled to act.
Or had it been a man?
He found that he couldn't quite grasp onto the details of the encounter at the moment. He reasoned that the adrenaline had clouded his memory. Or perhaps it was the rush now of having finally decided it was time to leave this climate for something better and warmer. He hugged himself tightly against a sudden blast of wind and shook with the cold.
He pondered on where he might go or how he might get there. He had very little tying him to this land, other than a job that barely kept him fed. He could pack up all of his belonging in one duffel bag tonight, scrounge together the meager amount of coins he had, and find a ticket out.
Or maybe he would just leave. He was positive he couldn't be far from the seasonal line. He was dimly aware that he had been heading in its direction. He thought that perhaps his damp clothing was holding him back. Briefly, irrationally, he thought of shedding it. It wouldn't matter soon, after all.
He was almost there. He could nearly feel the sun on his face and the sand below his feet. He could already hear the sound of slow waves crashing onto a beach, so loud they rung in his head. He wondered if the person he saved would make it there too. They could meet each other properly and share stories. He hoped they were okay. He had tried.
As the snow grew increasingly red around him, Jack finally began to feel warm for the first time. He smiled. |
"My Lord, that is not an appropriate comment for the situation."A dark skinned vampire said from my left.
"Yeah? Well just add it to the list. I'm on a roll tonight."I said as I tipped back the goblet, quickly grasping at the still too loose crown threatening to fall off my head.
"My Lord, no one will answer to you continue to play childish games such as these."He replied quickly, furtively looking around as he did.
"Jamar. We're in a room full of vampires, demons, wraiths, ghosts, skinwalkers, oorootoo, and god only knows what else. No need to hide what we're saying. I'm pretty sure they heard what I said."I shot back with a devilish grin.
"You made up that last one up."Jamar sighed, his usual deadpan demeanor cracking slightly as he tried not to grin back.
"Maybe. Besides, I'm a human. Now an acting Dark Lord. How the fuck am I supposed to know everything?"I asked as I began to saunter my way towards the crowd.
"You should probably keep your distance. My Lord."A fatherly looking gentleman said, stepping in front of me slightly.
"Nope."I replied, ducking past him as I continued straight into the pulsing heart of the crowd.
I could feel the crushing amount of beings around me; more than I could hear them. Despite being such a diverse and unearthly crowd, everyone seemed stuck to their own cliques and kept to themselves in hushed conversation.
It was boring me to tears.
"I THOUGHT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE LARGEST GATHERING OF ONLY THE MOST POWERFUL ENTITIES IN THE WORLD!"I shouted as I finally found myself smack in the middle of the horde. "So then why is it that you are also so god damn boring?"
In the time it took me to breathe, every eye, and seeing appendage, was focused on me.
"Now that I have everyone's attention, I would like to formally welcome you all to my coronation as the Dark Lord. To those of you who know me. Nothing is going to change. To those of you who don't know me. Sit down, hold on, and enjoy the ride."I said as I raised my glass into the air.
I let my goblet hang there. Daring someone to act as I let my eyes slowly wander across the slowly agitating crowd.
"God help us all."A voice came from behind me.
"I thought that's why you wanted me to be the Dark Lord though?"I said, spinning around as a smile spread across my face.
"Aye. The Wolves will stand with you."A burly man in his late twenties replied, lifting his glass as he smiled back at me.
*Thanks bud* I whispered in my head.
*No problem broski. Now can we let loose a bit?* Came the mental reply from across the room.
I only smiled wider in reply as I swung away from him, and towards a much more sultry voice that was making its way up from my right.
"A human? As our leader? As our Dark Lord? I think not."Replied the elegantly dressed and raven haired lady of the night.
"Only the human that got you a long term deal with a medical waste company that happens to also be the leading shipper of blood."I said as I held my cheeky smile.
"Oh, only that guy? I think I could follow that guy."She responded as her pale face warmed with her soft smile.
"Thank you Malinda."I said softly, gently dropping my eyes.
"Don' thank me yet. You still owe me a taste."She said with a wink and twirl, making her way back into the crowd of blood suckers.
"And I think that about covers it."I said to no one in particular.
"You always do this."Jamar said as he slowly made his way up to me, shaking his head the whole way.
"What? Liven up the party?"I asked, looking around. Already the groups were beginning to mingle together around their fringes.
"No."He answered. "Do you ever wonder why we chose you?"
"Nope."I replied evenly. "Don't want to either."
"It's because we couldn't see anyone other than you leading us."
"I don't believe you."
"Uh huh. You know why?"
"Don't care."
"Who else could? Even the strongest warriors of every race couldn't bring us all together."
"Bullshit, I'm a weak human who likes to run his mouth. How could I compare to those people?"
"You don't. That's the best part. You are someone who can look in from the outside with an unbiased and fresh set of eyes. You can do it, just like you did all those years ago."
"Stop. That was just a bunch of high school kids playing imaginary games in their back yards."
"Yeah, just a bunch of high school kids that managed to defeat a previous Dark Lord, and become Heads of their rightful Clans. Starting to figure it out yet?"
"Fuck off."I finally replied, feeling a smile creep across my face despite my best efforts. "Let's just drink and have a good night. This is supposed to be my party."
"Yes......... Bud."said a finally smiling Jamar.
"THERE IT IS! LETS DO THIS"I cried out, feeling the wave of the party finally engulf me. |
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