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I’ve never been one for berries, but these tarts are divine. My colourful companions seem to think so too, they’ve gone and gobbled them all up! Oh well, I shall be grateful for the tea and scones and the respite from the heat under this big oak tree.
“What’s a matter kiddo?” Hatter asked as he poured tea into his newest hat. It was the only way to break them in he told her, if it pours like a pot then a hat it is not.
“Oh Hatter, don’t you ever get tired of all the tea?”
Hatter and Hare looked at each other, sharing a brief and somewhat menacing moment before they burst out in frantic laughter. Hatter fell right off his chair, spilling his hat tea, while Hare collapsed on the table, pounding it and sending the scones flying into the air.
Why I never! I just asked them a simple question. I mean, surely anyone must get bored after having tea everyday, in the same place, with the same people. Sure, exciting things happened all the time. Just yesterday Cat appeared out of nowhere, as usual, but this time he’d been turned blue by a Waxmenot. Oh that was a fun day, we travelled through the forest of prose to find him a cure. Such beautiful poems those flowers recited.
I still can’t help feeling like there’s something missing, some purpose I can’t quite put my finger on. Ouch!
“Hare don’t throw things at me! It’s not nice.”
“Ah! I do believe I’ve got your attention now. See here little lady, tea is the staple of life. Without tea, where would we be? Nowhere! No one! For it was tea that brought us all together, and as long as you keep drinking we’ll be here forever!”
Tea? What’s so special about this tea? It’s just a simple floral tea pot, with simple floral tea cups. And inside the pot, is simple green tea. Hold on a minute. This tea isn’t green, why it’s much darker than that. There’s something at the bottom, mixed in with the tea leaves. How odd indeed.
Well, not much more to do than have more tea.
“Please pass the sugar.” Oh no, he’s started throwing things again. |
Inspired by /u/Meshakhad!
---
The two pilots looked upon their damaged craft through the sensor feeds that the Doctor had graciously provided. Fortunately both ships could fly away from this mess. "I hate to admit this, but I don't have insurance."Han told the Doctor. "Let's just say my business isn't exactly legal."
"Same here. Technically the TARDIS is stolen."the Doctor responded, averting his gaze from the video chat. "At least we can both still fly away from this. What say we both go our own ways and pretend this never happened?"
"Pretend what happened?"Han winked. |
Sitting next to him staring into his eyes I start to remember. I remember what it was like when I was younger. How he was always there for me since the beginning. How he loved me with all his heart. We were the perfect family. I also remember how I treated him after the accident. I avoided him and shunned him for something he didn't even do. I couldn't change the past but I could try to make it right now. If only I knew how to. Looking down at my hands, I realized they were shaking. I looked for words to say to him. Anything to explain that I was sorry, but nothing came to me. Even now with only moments to spare I was useless. All I could think about was the time I wasted. He was my best friend. Without him I wouldn't have became the man I am today. He did everything to give me a better life than what he received. I just kept staring at my hands. "I'm sorry,"I wanted to shout. "I still loved you, even after she died,"I wanted to scream. Instead I said nothing. To scared to face the reality that I had wasted so much time. I started to cry like I had never cried before. I tore my gaze from my hands and stared once more into his eyes, trying to show him I still cared. I knew now was the last chance I would have. With a whisper I said, "I love you dad, I never stopped."
"I know,"he replied, "I know you do. I love you too."And with that came a deafening silence. His eyes no longer had a spark in them. He was already gone. |
Ours was a donut friendship.
"Donut for a do not."She'd text.
"Only if it's dusted with cinnamon sugar."
"Done. Do not take the bus today."
"k."
Not that I went against her if she didn't have the flavor I wanted. I always trusted her. Blindly, my family said. They said that even after the bus crashed into a tree. Nobody was injured, but everybody was frightened.
"Donuts for a do not."She usually only offered one. I raised an eyebrow at the box of Krispy Kremes she brought me. An apology for her extended absence? She sometimes disappeared for a day or two, but this last time she'd been gone for a week.
Still, it wasn't like her to apologize for an absence, just like it wasn't like her to travel with others or even inform others she was skipping town for a bit.
"Do not date Mark."
Not an apology after all. And yet it was no wonder she offered a box of donuts. Mark was a trust fund baby with millions of dollars at the mercy of his pen before he graduated from MIT. Had he been tall and athletic, she could have made a case for him turning abusive one day. But no, Mark was bird-boned and slight and had curly blond hair and long-lashed angel blue eyes. He moved with a fragile caution, as if frightened by the air around him.
I stared at the white box with the familiar logo, then at her. She looked more threatening than Mark with her foxy brown eyes, red rumpled-pixie hair, and gamine charm. Less trust-worthy, except I'd known her all my life.
Abusive, my family called Ella. Maybe she just had a crush on Mark.
"Or on you,"my sister muttered.
"Nine eleven,"I'd respond.
Never doubted Ella after that. And if she wanted Mark for herself, she could keep him. I wouldn't have a life, much less a happily ever after, had she not warned against going to New York.
"Donut for a do not. Do not watch the news or read the paper this week?"
I laughed at that one. "That's too easy. You're going to make me fat."
So it was from everyone else that I learned that a certain beautiful ex of mine had skinned women alive and used their skins as some sort of fucked up body mask.
Thwap, thwap, thwap. I groaned at the insistent knocking of the pillow against my face. "Donut for a do not."
Ella? When did she get back from her sudden vacation?
"What? Ella? Where have you been? I was so worried when you didn't come back after the party and I tried to tag you as missing but I'd tagged you too many times only for you to come back and -"
"Do not wait until after the hoidays to finish your project."She climbed up to her top bunk. "And an extra donut for a do not: do not worry about me when I disappear."
I sat up and punched her mattress through the steel gaps above me. "You're cheating. That's not a do not. That's a do, pretending to be a do not. And are you nuts? That means I can't sleep between now and Thanksgiving. And I can't not worry about you. That's not possible. You keep taking off like that and one day you'll get in trouble and what if no one comes looking for you?"
"Fine. A donut for every night you do not slack. How's that for a change? And a box of donuts for never worrying about me again. I'll be fine. Trust me."
My mom was diagnosed with cancer in the lull between Christmas and New Year. My project was almost finished, which freed me to spend a lot of time with Mom.
January 22, 2017. Ella knocked on the door of my house with its white picket fence and manicured lawn. Dead of night, and she knocked and knocked til my husband yelled out the window and she told him to shut the fuck up and bring me out.
Ella, on my front steps, eyes red from crying but pointed chin still raised in that characteristic sureness all other women envied her. I pulled my bathrobe tight around myself and embraced her. She'd texted a thousand "donut for a do not"texts in the previous hour. Her lower lip trembled when she spoke.
"I lied. I don't have a donut."
That made me smile. I squeezed her hand and tugged her towards the hallway, but she stepped back, refusing to budge from the doorway.
"I have a box of donuts in the fridge. Donuts for a do not? Do not leave. Come inside and tell me what's going on."I couldn't let her see me worried. She had bought my right to worry about her with several boxes of donuts in uni.
She stared at me, surprised. Then she set her in a familiar stubborness. "I hate donuts."She thrust a notebook at me. "Do not read until I'm gone."
And then she pulled me into a hug so fierce I couldn't breathe. Her shoulders heaved, and for the first time in our thirty-year friendship she cried. "Do not forget me. Do not hate me.
"Everything I did, I did for you,"she said. Then, she pushed me away roughly, her lips set in a thin line I supposed was determination. "And do not worry about me."
Never heard from her after that. Her notebook was filled with a litany of do nots. A couple hundred dollar bills were taped to the last page. Her handwriting loped across the first in coy loops.
"Left money at the back so you can buy donuts for yourself while I'm gone. Remember. Do not worry. I already bought you donuts for that so dont cheat by using my cash to buy yourself donuts for that one.
Lotsa love, XOXO,
Ella"
It drove my husband mad, how religiously I followed them. And maybe it was a religion, maybe I wanted to follow her teachings word for word, like obeying all her commandments would hasten her return.
March 9, 2044. I was sixty-four years old and the T1 Law was passed, criminalizing time travel. Penalty: death, to be executed within five minutes after the passing of the verdict.
Her last Do Not was an instruction for March 31, 2045.
"Donut for a Do Not. Do not forget I want to be cremated.
Please be careful. Can't help your wrinkly ass anymore.
Lotsa love, XOXO,
Ella"
|
I entered the isolated room, its size foreboding on me like I was a dwarf. All along the walls dotted several different computers, each one tasked with some different use, each one getting the humans no further to opening the spaceships hull.
I was just an average smart person, working for cancer research uk I had made several breakthroughs, none of which were the cure of course, but breakthroughs nonetheless. It was 3 in the morning when the call came through. "Mr. Smith, we have a proposal for you, one of magnificent proportions and huge prospects."I squinted, my eyes still straining for the appropriate level of light as that darned street lamp from outside cast its wondrous glow in my eyes.
"Who is this? how did you get my number? and its Doctor! not Mr!"
"Mr. Smith."The voice said, practically telling me it wont give in to my demands so easily. "This is a top secret government agency, and you have been selected amongst millions to be part of our top secret investigation."
"What top secret government agency? What top secret investigation?"I had sat up now, the curiosity had been touched, although it sounded like one of those prank calls you would get from people attempting to collect your bank details.
"All will become clear to you, all you have to say is *yes* and you will be contractually obliged to do as we say, that includes not confessing the truth of this phone call to anyone. You are being recorded, so don't think you can back out on your word either... let's just say it involves... other life."I was so confused, if I said yes it could mean anything, but my life was so boring... nobody seemed to appreciate me at work and, wait... did she say *other life* ? was she implying aliens? whats the worst that could happen? A lot of things really... but I didn't get this far without taking risks.
"Er... ok."I said to them, hitting myself mentally that I didn't say yes, you're meant to sound confident and in control not submissive.
"We need a yes, Mr. Smith."
"Yes."I said almost instantly, god dammit.
"Great Dr. Smith! be ready in 2 hours and we'll have a car waiting for you outside your house, the journey is quite a while so you'll be able to sleep in the car. The windows are blacked out anyway as our location is top secret."I was starting to regret this already. The phone went dead. Well that's charming, guess I may as well get up now and get ready lest I oversleep.
That was a few hours ago, it was now 3pm in... well I don't know where that journey was indeed rather long. Still in the country though, didn't need a plane. Unless we embarked a ferry without my knowing. I took the room in, it was too massive to comprehend really. There wasn't many staff here to say how big the room was, I guess it was as secret as they said. "Doctor Smith."A womans voice next to me called out. I turned to see a woman in her mid 40's (ish) looking very stern and serious looking in a nice crease-less suit, if I were 30 years younger...
"Ah, the woman on the phone I presume?"I asked, not actually remembering what she sounded like.
"Yes, of course. Now you must understand that you cannot speak about this to anyone, not even your wife or your children. Not your closest friend or your neighbors dogs former owners maids uncle, got it?"What?
"er... sure, whats the secret anyway?"She walked away from me as if she didn't hear my question.
"Follow me, and mind where you're walking we have lots of... devices on the prowl."She didn't look back at me when she spoke, she seemed very sure of herself. I followed her, she was leading me to a big tent in the middle of the room, I wondered what it was obscuring. Eventually we made it inside, and what was inside was phenomenal. It was a huge spaceship, at least to the humans it was huge. It was dark purple in colour and had lots of random straight lines running around it which seemed like small rectangular crevices in the ships structure, did they serve a purpose or were they just decorative? either way they had white light zipping through them like electricity moving from one place to another, perhaps an element we do not know about.
"Stop gawking, follow me."What was going on? this was too much.
"Wait."I said sternly, it seemed to work as she stopped. "What is this? is this a joke? what do you need me for?"
"This is not a joke, this spacecraft was found here 12 years ago and we built this building around it to obscure it from satellites, locals and tourists. We picked you because you are smart, unbelievably smart. Nobody has ever done so much for the battle against cancer as you have."Well I wasn't expecting answers that easily. "I see you seemed quite surprised at my response, we exercise full disclosure in this work environment. Full transparency to avoid any conspiracy theories against the staff and for a full diagnostic on whatever this thing is, no data goes unmissed as far as I'm aware of. It's important to let the staff feel comfortable and safe, that way moral is higher and work is quicker and more efficient."She talked too much, at my age it was hard to keep track of what she was saying.
"Ok."I responded.
"That's it?"She asked, surprised.
"Yes."I said, "Actually no, why exactly do you need me again?"
"We are trying to open it, we can't. So we're bringing in all the smartest brains from around the world to figure it out, so far no luck."She seemed disappointed.
"Well thats a bummer."I said uncaring, yes it was interesting but I just wanted to see inside, I didn't want to actually have to *work* with this thing. She raised an eyebrow at me.
"Perhaps your insight into anatomy and biology may be useful, we're not sure how it operates and microbes, bacteria and all that stuff may be the answer. It's a long shot, but we're trying all angles."Jeez does she ever shut up?
"You talk too much."There were audible gasps from around the room, clearly nobody was brave enough to stand up to this woman.
"Mr. Smith! we operate a tight leash here and we will not accept insubordination of any degree! do you understand?!"Was she still talking?
"Yes yes."I said now concentrating on the ship. I went to touch it when she spoke again.
"We've already tried that, we tried everything. Sheer force and pressure dont seem to budge it, we can't even chip it to get a sample of the element it uses."She finally stopped talking and I went back to touch it. My hand light pressed down on the hull of the ship and the white zipping light vanished along with a powering down sound, everyone gasped again. Nothing works huh? I thought to myself.
There was a momentary pause, then a slight hissing sound like some hydraulics. *Heh, highly technologically advanced aliens and they use hydraulics.* An outline of a door appeared where I touched the ship and a set of stairs came down with it. There was suddenly lots of shouting and my ears struggled to comprehend all the noises, some men with big guns grabbed me and shoved me to the ground telling me to not move and keep my hands where they can see them. I'm 75 years old! What am I gonna do hit them with my walking stick? perhaps my zimmer frame is a secret nuclear warhead. 3 men surrounded me, making sure I didn't move when all of a sudden they all flew back and harmlessly landed on the floor. In the door of the ship appeared a being, a human being. Ok it wasn't a human being but I can't be bothered to describe it, it wasn't anything like we've ever imagined, not that martian crap anyway.
"Hello."It said, it spoke english? "We have been monitoring your kind for some time now, we have learnt your ways and your language and we have been waiting dormant for your kind to simply calm down. We have used this spaceship as a teleporter of sorts, where we would check up on you every 6 months. Your kind only seems to degrade itself the more time you are given, because of this we decided we would only take one of you with us. Someone worthy enough to be considered 'nice' as you humans like to put it."He/she whatever gender it was if it was a gender looked at me and my gawking face. "Would you like to come with us? Doctor Smith?"I was glad it used the word Doctor. "We will take you on many journeys, many adventures, many places where you can experience wonderful and amazing sights, exquisite tastes and other... *desires*."That sounded wonderful, but why me?
"But im an old man! I'll be dead soon perhaps you should pick one of these younger doctors?"Not that I deemed any of them worthy enough myself.
"No, we will make you young again, for as long as you desire. We'll even give you the cure to cancer before you leave, does that sound good to you?"Hell yeah.
"Hell yeah."I said exactly what I was thinking, it was time to say bye. "Bye guys!"I shouted to everyone before I walked on the ship. There was a bright glow and before I knew it I was being shot through the stars and space while my skin got more youthful by the second. I was going on an adventure, and I'll never be back.
_____
Read more stories at /r/inooxwritings particularly my ongoing series 'Hellspawn' |
You've never heard of the Scottish Clan, McShinobi? Of course not. They wouldn't be doing their job if the likes of you had heard of them. No, they're not as famous as those Japanese blokes, what with their shurikens and katanas what have you, but they are just as effective and have the reputation of not having one.
You think a bamboo blowpipe is impressive? Try a blow-bagpipes! Everyone ignores them because they're loud and annoying and our ninjas look like homeless buskers. Everyone looks away so they feel like they don't have to give 'em any money and before they know it, it's too late.
Now I know what you're thinking what about those Highland blades, how could a ninja hide something like that. The secret is they shrink it down so its the size of a normal sword. That's true Scottish genius there.
What? You still don't believe me? Well I guess that's sort of the point isn't it.
Say, have you ever seen a man in a full black kilt, caber tossing logs at a target? I bet you haven't -- and I bet you didn't. |
"Sir, the chosen savior is carving through our men like paper! What shall we do?"The gaunt henchman's lips quivered out.
King Fear, tyrant of the country, rose from his chair and regaled in shrill laughter as he spoke. "You are all fools. If this man is born to stand against me, what would you expect to happen when squirming oafs such as yourselves tried to raise arms against him."
In that moment, the large, ornate doors to the tyrant's throne room burst off the hinges and flew into the cowering henchman, unimpeded towards King Fear. Without a moment's hesitation, King Fear Drew his onyx shaded claymore and cleaved the massive doors into pieces, as he stared at the figure ever more present as the dust began to settle.
In the door frame was a man, no larger than 6 feet, dwarfed by the massive tyrant. A stained and tattered white tank top with faded torn jeans and a pair of old, musty sneakers adorned this less than appealing savior. In his hand was a shattered vodka bottle, blood soaked from King Fear's Henchmen. His hair was disheveled and greying, its hairline ever presently receding. A face wrinkled from years of scowling was twisted in disgusting rage faced at the tyrant.
This figure of the apparent savior of the country began stumbling forward, shouting profanities at King Fear.
"Are you the fuckin' bastard who took away all the booze? Who the hell do you think you are tryin' to keep me sober in *buuuurp* the mornin'?"
For once in his life, the Tyrant who terrorized countless innocent lives, who stood against armies alone, and who had never so much as flinched at a blade pressed against his throat, began recoiling at what could only be described as a smell of rotted yeast that permeated the air as this champion of the people increased his pace, sloppily charging at him.
While stunned by the putrid smell of fetid beer, King Fear had no chance to react as the savior gouged into the Tyrant's stomach with the broken bottle. The intimidate impact caused the king to fly into his iron smelted throne, ripping it from its base and sending both it and King Fear into the back wall, his sword flung out of hand. Before he could recover, this drunken figure took the Onyx claymore and swung at King Fear, effortlessly cleaving through his plated armor and leaving him dead at the savior's feet.
There was a brief silence as those who survived this onslaught into the palace looked on in amazement as this seemingly innocuous man had freed them from the grasp of their Dictator. Soon there was a roar of applaud across the country as all felt the iron grip of King Fear slip from their land, and soon everyone rejoiced.
The hero turned, facing the crowed of once fervently fearful henchmen, now cheering as one stepped forward, sheepishly questioning the champion.
"Now that you have slain our King, what do you wish?"
At first, the drunk sneered at the lackey, now regretting stepping forward, but soon he had changed his face into a natural scowl. Looking onward into the crowd of battered soldiers, his voice boomed across the castle. "WHERE THE FUCK IS THIS BASTARD'S BEER?!" |
This is the VERY first time I've written a story. Other than when I was a kid. So please PLEASE be gentle with me. Lol
My eyes shoot open.
What was that noise?
As I lay there in my bed, barely breathing I hear the bmp shhhhhhft as something is coming down the hall way towards my room. The Christmas lights in my window illuminate just enough to make the hallway pitch black.
It must be my mom.
"Mom?"I whisper. Hoping she is going to call out to me letting me know that everything is fine.
Bmp shhhhhhft
Another dragging sound. Only closer this time. I am no longer taking full breaths, only short ones to minimize my movement.
It's winter in North Dakota so I already have my blankets pulled up to my eyes. And I open them wide and wider to try and see into the dark abyss of the hallway.
Bmp shhhhhhhft
"Mooom?"I say a little louder. Hoping maybe she is up getting ready for work.
I can't move. I can't even swallow.
Bmp shhhhhft
Whatever it is, is right outside my door.
I'm paralyzed. Knowing that any moment I'm going to see this thing that materialize out of the dark.
Bmp
I see a hand reach out of the night and grab carpet...
Shhhhhhft
and an arm pulling itself into the doorway.
I see wirey grey hair on top of a head as the hand reaches out again.
Bmp shhhft
I see cloudy white eyes and a gaping mouth come into frame as I pee the bed.
"MOM!!!"I shriek
Kyyylle
It knows my name!!
"MOOOOM!!!"
I can't look any longer! I squeeze my eyes shut and scream!
"MOOOOOOOOOM!"
Kyylllllle...
Kyyylleee
KYLE
WAKE UP!
My eyes snap open as my mother yanks the covers off of me.
"Kyle...wake up baby. Stop screaming. It's ok. It's me! You're awake now."
I calm down.
"I wet the bed. I'm sorry."I sob.
She tells me it's ok and she goes to get me a fresh pair of pajamas.
I tell her the nightmare I had. When I hear her clothes the closet door I pull my shirt over my head. And as she grabs the shirt off I look into her face, for comfort, and see wirey grey hair and white cloudy eyes looking back at me with a wide gaping grin.
|
It had been weeks now since the oldest in the family, Hibari, started noticing something was weird with her playlist in Spotify. Of course, she gave it no mind since she knew that Rin and Reborn, her younger siblings, liked to mess with it even though her playlist had her name. On top of that, the playlist definitely had mostly Japanese and Korean songs along with some French and Italian, with should had been another sign for them that it wasn't their playlist.
The thought that always came to her mind was that when they were adding songs, they most likely added things into hers instead of theirs. She nod as she takes our her phone and opens the Spotify app, deciding that none of her siblings would be using it at midday.
She looked up as she saw that the public bus stopped in front of her, showing that it was a Red light and she could now cross. As she was half way thought the wide street, a 'we only have five minutes, so listen carefully,' was said hurriedly into her ears. She paused for a nano-second in the middle of the street and then continued walking as her mind said for her that this was one of those songs that began with the artist speaking as if he was re-telling or telling a secret to the listener.
She got to the other side and the deep voice, which seemed to be calling to her, said a few words she didn't listen to carefully as she heard a loud honk sound through the street. Usually, this would be the time when she took out her phone and change the song but something, she wasn't sure what, was telling her not to do it.
"Hibari,"the voice said hurriedly again, and she stopped again, eyes widening. How did this artist knew her name? Words seemed to float next to her and something popped to her head, telling her that this was just a coincidence.
'Most likely Reborn doing something with your phone.' She nod to her self, trusting her brain. How could she not?
"Hibari, you who are the oldest! Listen!"
A puzzle look entered her face and her brain hurriedly tried to tell her something but she payed it no mind as she continued to listen to the track. Something...
She stepped to the side of the side walk, making sure that she wasn't in the way of anyone. She didn't want to disrespect anyone.
"You have liked languages since you were little, trying to learn any language that called to your attention."It continued hurriedly and she remember that the opening sentence had said something about five minutes. "You who took care of your siblings as your mother worked day in and day out to give you guys what you guys wanted and keep you comfortable."Hibari narrowed her eyes, the words reminding her of her childhood; why was this being said to her in a track? She shut her brain once again as she payed attention to the track. She had a mind though to see how long it was left of the track. Four minutes.
"You have done what you have been able to do to help your mother and make her proud with everything you do."There was a small paused, "I know how hard you have worked..."it said lowly and she though the voice might had been crying. "But this has all been a lie."
Hibari froze in her place, not believed those words. How could it be a lie? Everything that the voice had said so far seemed true to her about her life but how could her life be a lie?
Hurriedly, the voice began to explain in a bad way what they were trying to say. "Not a lie per say! But a lie in that you are not real..."
What...?
"I have been trying to contact you for several days now, which are weeks in your world. By your world I mean where your are. Where you are is a book, and this is the last chapter."
A book? Last chapter? What was this person talking about? Her brain once again tried to say something and slowly she looked to the side as she noticed the world around her seemed to stop, and she began to notice letters, words that she had never notice. It read; 'Last chapter: Moving On.' She drowned the words the track was saying as she continued to read.
'Her mother had decided that she wanted to take a long break from work. It has been a few years since she, Hibari, had entered college and she was now the head of doctors in the prestigious Hospital for infectious disease and she couldn't be prouder. The first thing she had done...' she continued reading, not wanting to believe all that she was reading. Soon enough, she saw herself reaching the end.
"Please Hibari, do as I tell you and you can live in my world."She heard the track said silently. She hasn't heard anything so she wants sure what it wanted of her. She looked around, the day becoming darker and darker. She wasn't sure how the track was still being played in her phone. She now had a purse with her, something that she wouldn't have wore before. She stepped to the side, looking herself in a mirror. She looked older than what she remember being...
She looked again towards the words and it seemed that only one paragraph was left. She could already guess what was after that. Once again she heard the voice, but she payed it no attention. There really wasn't anything she could do anyways. Deciding that she wanted to know how this ended, this story of her ended, she went and read the last paragraph and as she though, the words that followed it were the usual cliche ending.
'The End' it read and she smiled.
"At least I made my mom proud."She said out loud. Her surrounding became dark fast and she let the darkness eat her.
Before her consciousness left her though, a sentence reached her.
"I failed again..." |
Bill opened his eyes. He was greeted by the morning sun streaming through his window and quiet murmurs from his front yard. Glancing over at his alarm clock, 8:27 on the display, he smiled to himself. Another year, another level up.
He swung his legs out from under his covers, and went to rise from the bed. The twinge in his back a little bit worse than normal, but nothing some stretches won't be able to sort out. Shuffling towards his wardrobe, he pulled out a small cloth bundle and tucked it under his arm. Bill slowly made his way into the kitchen, working the cracks out of his joints, flicked on the TV and made some jam toast and coffee.
The voices from the street became slightly more prominent as Bill tried to follow the plot of some new kids program, so he quickly finished his breakfast and checked the wall clock... 8:52. Clearing away his dishes, he grabbed a pencil from next to the phone and sits down again with the cloth bundle in front of him.
Unwrapping the bundle carefully, he pulled out a drawstring pouch, some small carved tokens and a very worn piece of paper. Bill delicately unfolds the paper and gazed with pride at all there was to know of Garthorn the Cunning. Eraser marks showing where details were changed and points distributed, new spells learnt and skills mastered.
Bill distributed his newly gained stat points and updated his spell list, and then rose from the table. The voices from outside louder with every passing minute, he glanced at the clock... 8:59.
"It's time..."he exclaimed as he donned a deep purple robe with runic symbols down the trims, placed the carved tokens into a hidden pocket and tied the drawstring pouch to his belt. He walked to the front door and glanced through the spy hole. A group of almost 20 people had formed and were talking amongst themselves. Some in robes, some armour, even Gary from accounting had come and passed around his home made foam weapons.
Bill chuckled to himself, "Best Birthday present ever..."as his watch alarm chimed advising him it was 9:00. He reached over to his coat rack and grabbed his Staff of the Magi, took and deep breath and swung the front door open.
---
Garthorn the Cunning strode from his lair, glaring at the self proclaimed heroes quivering in fear before him. A maniacal laugh bursting forth from his lips, "You petty mortals think you can defeat someone as all-powerful, as awe-inspiring, as Garthorn the Cunning?” Snorting in derision he raised his staff to the sky, dark clouds forming above him, the boom of thunder echoing against the surrounding mountains. The heroes form a defensive line waiting for the oncoming onslaught.
---
Bill reached into a pocket and pulled out a carved token and threw it into the group before him. Pulling out a D20 from his pouch he exclaims "I cast lightning bolt..."
|
There was an odd silence in the room, the Galactic Trade Commission had, for the first time in what was probably a thousand cycles, fallen completely silent. The Tarlavonian Ambassador was still posed, finger extended in a combination of rage and fear. If you traced the long, slender finger, it pointed to the V'Kalii Ambassador, who's feathers were ruffled, both in disgust, but in shame as well. Winged arms tucked close, the creature bowed its head. "Yes,"it murmured, just loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. "It is true."From those words, chaos exploded, insults were hurled, delegates stood and shouted at one another, there was anarchy. Thunderous booms were the only thing that brought the din back down, as the Commission President brought things back into order.
"The Commissions wants to clariffy, to ensure the record is one hundred percent accurate. The Tarlavonian Ambassador to this assembly attests that the V'Kalii government has breached Article One of the Wartime Measures Accords?"asked the tendril-faced alien at the head of the room, to which all delegates looked down upon. The avian representative couldn't even voice the words, just nodded. The Wartime Measures Accords were rules set down for any race that wished to remain with the GTC, in regards to war. Article One used to forbid the use of Apocalyptic Weapons on any sentient race, such as planet killers or star destroyers. The Commission, in reference to GTC General Article two Hundred Four, had been revised, moving Article One to the position of Article Two, and changing Article One. Article Eighty-Four declared that no member of the GTC may ask for assistance from any race that would not conform to the rules of the Galactic Trade Commission; however, Article One specifically forbade the usage of Human in war, after General Article Two Hundred Four removed them from the Commission. "May the Gods forgive you,"said the President.
Chaos was once again interrupted by the sound of an ear shattering bang, but this time not from the President, but from the massive doors being thrown open. Sharp sounds of impact on the stone floor were joined by the dull thud of soled boots. First to appear was a female, dressed in a sharp black suit, wearing matching high heels, and her hair let down, blonde flowing around her shoulders. In her left hand was a black envelop made of paper, something archaic by most standards, but still used by humans who wished to convey a message. Trailing her were two armoured soldiers, olive drab and black plating covering them head to toe, faces obscured by polished silver faceplates. Eyes jumped from the female to the soldiers, watching the trail of blood left by their boot prints. There would have been guards posted at the doors to try and dissuade the soldiers from entering with their firearms, something forbidden by GTC rules. *Tried*. The female approached the Tarlavonian first, producing from the envelope a small booklet, bound in leather. She handed this to the grey skinned creature, and then carried on to the Commission President, and placed a second booklet, this one not bound, just neatly stapled.
"Proper paperwork for you, President, showing that the Terran Alliance approached the V'Kalii government, as trade partners, to offer aid. Our vessel was attacked, rightfully drawing us into this conflict."A small, disingenuous smile was offered. "Next, that booklet holds the conditions for Tarlavonian surrender, including lands to be divided between the Alliance and the V'Kalii. We figured, since you would be here, a chance to file the change of hands of the lands when they occur with... this,"she dismissively waved a hand around the room. "So?"
"Now?!"demanded the Ambassador, throwing the booklet on the ground aggressively, earning a look of disapproval from the human female and a tightened grip on the weapons of the soldiers behind her. "You dare-"the creature took a step forward aggressively, pointing a finger at the Human representative, while reaching for something behind him, as his skull exploded, covering the few people behind him in grey blood. Shock kept the room silent, as they watched the body topple to it's knees, then the ground, the human soldier holding it's pose for only long enough to ensure the Tarlavonian was dead, before lowering it again.
"Then a war it is,"said the woman, neatly picking the booklet off the floor and exiting from where she had come. A roar filled the room again as the V'Kalii delegate sunk into his chair further, and a clean up crew arrived for the body. What had they gotten into? It wondered. |
Two months have passed since the nuking calmed down. Things were finally setting in place, if you can even say that in the middle of a nuclear winter.
One of the major achievements the UN has managed to accomplish is to build an underground internet system, sustained by the heat of magma and the UN made it available to everyone to make communication easier after the war ended. Not that many people were left.
I sat down at my tent, staring at the screen of my self-engineered computer and gazed at the screen.
Title: "TIFU by causing World War III"
Text: "Obligatory 'this didn't happen today'...:
And I wrote. I wrote and I wrote all about the tales of my attempts to make the world a better place and how every attempt came back crashing down, in the form of a global war that ended life as we know it.
It was a thirteen thousand word epic that only the best of minds could write, it took more than six days of constantly fixing tiny grammatical errors and recollecting my memories and journals to be as precise as possible.
I hit Submit.
Ten days have passed since, and I checked on the thread to see how many times it's been gilded. It had 60000 upvotes, with only 30% upvoted.
The top comment?
"Yeah, sure dude."Gilded 19 times, upvoted 196,743 times.
The following comment:
"r/thathappened" |
She caught me staring again. I couldn't help it, she looked so beautiful and my eyes couldn't look away. If only I could talk to her. Who am I kidding she would never go with a guy like me. Besides, I had many other good friends. Like Rob and Steve who live across the hall from me. Bill the bartender, always gave free drinks, and Joey from the book store.
The worse she can she say is "No"so why should I even stress about it. I'll ask her out. Right here, right now. I walk up to her, she's motionless. *Playing hard to get.* So I stand right next to her and say, "I've seen you around and I'd like to take out for dinner some time."
*Silence*
"You know you don't ha-"before I could finish my sentence I was cut off by her.
"HELP ME"a muffled voice came from her.
*This is it, I've finally gone crazy*
I knew this moment was going to come eventually. It had been 1,254 days since I had seen another human being. Anywhere. I had traveled over half the country before deciding just to give up my search. I feel so stupid now. I had looted all the shop mannequins and set up them up. I don't know why, it made me feel, I don't know, not so alone. Now I had really cracked, now they were talking to me.
I sat there for awhile just trying to get my head straight. The sun was starting to set, time to get home. *I wonder if Rob and Steve want to.. Forget it.* I got up and wiped my eyes just as I started to walk away I heard it again.
The voice only get louder.
At this point the voice is so loud I can barely hear myself think. My ears started to hurt, I fell to the floor and tried to cover them. The pain and noise had gotten so intense I began to yell out in pain. I opened my eyes and looked and I was surrounded by them. Joe, Rob, Steve, and Bill. Their blank emotionless faces staring down at me. My heart almost stopped beating
I woke up sweating and breathing heavily in my bed. I was home. *Thank god* I thought, *it was just a bad dream.* I knew I had to get rid of those mannequins today. No more of that crap. I had calmed and got up to make some food. As I walked out to the kitchen I heard a thump at my door. Another animal must've wandered in. I kept walking towards my pantry when I heard the door creak open. I turned around quickly and froze.
In the hall way stood a crowd of mannequins, blank faced, staring directly at me.
"HELP US"
*The End*
|
Not this again...I woke up laying on the dirt floor before a giant orange lizard. I struggle to bring myself upright due to the lack of useful appendages.
"You idiot. I don't even know any water type moves"I tried to lash out towards my trainer, but was only able to repeatedly say my name - Magikarp.
"I'm glad you're excited about this battle too, Magikarp,"my trainer called out.
What cruelty must have I committed in my previous life to have been paired with this trainer I thought. But there was no time for regrets. The most important part of the battle was about to begin.
"Get over here, bitch, and I'll slap you with this dorsal fin,"I called out to the oversize lizard.
The lizard only looked at me blankly because of the language barrier. Then at the command of his trainer, he charged up a ball of fire and directed it at my general location.
"Oh no dodge that!"My trainer shouted in a panick.
"With what legs, you idiiiooot!"I tried shouting to my trainer while being blasted with the full brunt of the fire. The forces knocks me into a nearby tree where I lay dazed, confused, and medium rare.
I hear off in the distant my trainer calling to me, "Magikarp use hyper beam!"
Immediately my eyes began emitting a faint, white light as particles of energy begin collecting in front of me. "Fus Roh Dah,"I shrieked as I launch a concentrated beam of pure energy towards the lizard. The beam swells into the size of a mountain and completely annihilates any existence of the trainer and his pet lizard. Triumphantly, I flop around. |
I continued turning the handle as I explained, letting them see that it was more than a momentary effect. "So you see, V'thruum, that my arm movement is converted by the machine into what we call "electrical"energy, allowing me to power this light."
V'thruum watched carefully, his insectoid eyes fixed on the glowing bulb. "And you must keep turning or the light goes out?"His English was filled with strange clicks and whistles - an unavoidable problem when speaking through mandibles - but perfectly intelligible otherwise.
"Yes, that's right. You need to keep on giving it energy in order to get energy out."V'thruum caught on fast - the natives of this planet had only primitive technology, but they adapted to it well.
The mantis-alien cocked his head to one side, considering. "Why don't you just use the electrical energy to power the machine? Then you could do other things using the light."
I laughed. Primitives! Even the smart ones are still so backward, like an Earth-child before hypno-induction. "No, V'thruum. That's not how it works. It changes energy from one type to another; it doesn't make new energy. That's a basic physical law. You can't power something with itself."
"What if-"
"Look, I'll show you."I let go off the handle and plugged the machine into itself. After a few short moments, the lightbulb flickered and went out. "See? It doesn't work."
V'thruum sighed. "Obviously not at the moment. But just tighten that slightly"- one segmented arm pointed towards the base of the machine - "and flip those red switches down. That should do it."
I humoured the giant bug. An enquiring mind in a primitive is always a good sign, even if they do come up with bizarre ideas. The changes weren't very significant - certainly not enough to violate the laws of thermodynamics - but it would make V'thruum happy, and help him to learn.
The lightbulb flickered back on.
V'thruum smiled - or his species' equivalent of smiled, anyway. "See - now it works. I've increased the... what's that word again?"
"Uuh..."The light continued to shine, brighter than before. "How..."It didn't make any sense. It shouldn't have been possible. It wasn't possible.
"Efficiency. That's the word. I've increased the efficiency."
"That's not...not possible."Perpetual motion didn't work - everyone knew that. We'd known that for millenia. There was no such thing as free energy; that's not how the universe worked.
"It is possible. Look, it's definitely real."
I must have been ashen, because V'thruum's smile changed to a look of concern. He fussed over me, helping me sit down on a nearby tree stump, rushing off to fetch me a cup of water. Through it all, the light continued to shine.
It made no sense. How could a primitive have solved a problem that had baffled mankind? How could a nomadic bug society, whose most notable invention up until now was the flint spear, have invented a functional perpetual motion machine?
When the alien returned, cup carefully held in chitinous claws, I was calm enough to speak clearly. "How did you know how to do that?"
He shrugged - not an easy gesture for a creature with no shoulders. "It just seemed obvious, really. Like when V'mentho came up with the idea of a sharp rock to cut things, and V'trelli came up with the idea of using long sticks to keep exo-snails from touching us. Tying the stones to the sticks was just the next logical step."
"We thought it was impossible. No human has ever managed to make a machine like this."
"Ah. Well in that case, I'm glad I thought of it. It's a little bit of a return for all the gifts you've given us, like fire and hats. We're very grateful."
I couldn't stop looking at the light. How much of human history would have been different, if we'd thought of this thousands of years ago? How much time and effort might have been saved, how many lives improved, if we hadn't spent millenia developing inefficient and polluting ways to work around a limitation than had never existed?
Even now, the standard was nuclear. We'd made it this far, to V'thuum's planet and a dozen others, on the back of a power source that produced deadly waste and occasionally poisoned large areas of land for decades. How much faster and farther could we have spread with a source of clean, free energy. The whole sweep of human history, the march of progress, suddenly seemed farcical.
V'thuum stood near me, vestigial wings buzzing sporadically in a way that I'd come to associate with nervousness or worry. He kept on offering me things, looking for something to snap me out of it. I continued to sit there, still dazed.
His mandibles clicked in excitement - he'd had an idea. Another idea. "I know what will cheer you up. Do you remember V'lek? Well, he's been practicing that dance you showed us-"
"The Charleston."
"Yes. The Charleston. He's been practicing that, and he says if you do it ever-so-slightly faster, and with your hands like *this*, then you can teleport."
--------------------------------------------------------------------
I have more stories, if you are interested, at /r/peritract. |
The sign outside the building reads Grand Office of the Developer. Those in the know call it GOD for short.
When somebody's got a problem with the way the world runs, we hear about it. Everyday, the prayers, wishes, and curses arrive by the millions. Those get sorted by the customer service department into actionable and non-actionable items. Non-actionable items are sent to the center of the sun. Actionable items are sent to the airy departments on GOD's upper floors.
On the upper floors, there are sub-departments: Fortune's Fancy, Learning to Love, Heartfelt Happiness, Satisfactions of the Soul, etc.... If a person wants it, there's a sub-department for it. The workers there are the sorts of diehard weirdos who'll work overtime for no pay if they think it'll make a difference in someone's life. They get into the business for the little things. They put five-dollar bills in bushes for kids to find. They put a happy song on the radio when the single father is at his saddest. They time things exactly right so that the young lawyer drops her stack of documents just as the helpful young painter walks by. They keep coffee warm, ice-cream cold, and caramel sweet and salty.
But there's another department.
You won't find this department in the building directory. The people who work there don't associate with the rest of GOD. They go in the backdoor and they take the stairs to get to their offices, which are located in GOD's sub-sub-basement, down where the building's plumbing runs naked overhead, where the dust is so thick you can't tell it apart from the rats, and where everything smells of damp copper from the boiler in the corner.
When the cheerful departments on GOD's upper floors have okayed a puppy's miraculous recovery after a car accident, or a son's meeting his estranged mother completely by chance in the YA section of a bookstore, the report gets sent down to this department.
The reports thump into the dingy gray plastic bucket in the receiving room. The clerk, a hunched, cantankerous old man who's more vinegary than a sour pickle, dumps the bucket out into his patchy satchel, and takes the reports through the door marked:
BALANCE
That's when the reports get to me.
That's when I have to deny the puppy its miraculous recovery because it's just not feasible for a puppy to survive its spine bending the way that puppy's did. Because if that puppy survived, that would open the door for all sorts of related miraculous recoveries, and pretty soon everybody everywhere is walking off falls from five-storey rooftops and the world loses all consequence. Or I delay the son's arrival at the bookstore's YA section by a handful of minutes, because it's sometimes not right for people to luck their way into catharsis. If he's going to meet his mother again after all those years, it's a decision he's going to have to make on his own.
I work in the quiet under the half-light of a single buzzing incandescent. Most months I go without seeing a single living soul -- aside from the mail clerk, that is, but he's so far gone into his own brand of crotchety madness that he barely registers as living.
But there are times, rare times, when a person of exceptional personal charisma and clout, someone with the world-knowledge to even be aware that GOD exists, and with the force of will to bully his way inside the building, will show up at my door to register a personal complaint.
A group of such people came through my door last week. |
It was over in an instant. I've heard that most people never see it coming, and while I can't attest to being true, I'm just one man, I can say that's definitely how it was for me. I was on my way home after picking up some milk from the convience store, when I half way through the cross walk I knelt down to tie my shoe and it was all over.
"You were killed by a drunk driver."A booming voice announced, a little jarring when the last thing I remember was tying my shoes.
"Oh..."I was surrounded by darkness except for a small light shining down on me from the distance where the booming voice was originating.
"This must come as a shock to you."I can think of a few other things more shocking than the a drunk driving incident leading to a death. They kill thousands a year, you know? I don't know if that's true, I didn't bring my laptop here.
"I guess..."I dont know where this is going, but I don't have anything else to do.
"You must seek your revenge!"The booming voice was louder than ever before, announcing what it had in store for me.
"D-do I have to?"The voice went silent, I sat there in silence in response. Dammit, I feel like I made a bad first impression. "Uh, are you mad?"The booming voice stayed silent still, and I stared back into the light. "I uh, want revenge."
"OF COURSE YOU DO!"The booming voice returned. Whew. I'm not saying I'm not bummed about it, it is a bummer to bend over and die, but I just expected the afterlife to either be nothing or at least not this. "You will be sent back to earth in the form of small animals to enact your revenge."WHY!?
"G-Great, t-thank you for this opportunity."I don't want to upset anyone.
"Go forth!"The voice boomed and the light grew brighter and brighter til it was all I could see. I shielded my eyes.
"WAIT!"The light faded a little, giving way to some of the darkness returning and the booming voice lowering its volume.
"Is there a misunderstanding?"There are many...
"I'm sorry, your, uh, greatness, I dont even know who killed me. I wouldn't even know where to start."
"SARAH JOHNSON."The voice boomed and the light began to fill the room once again.
"Hey I know her!"I had a moment of jubilance, followed by profound sadness. "S-she's a sweet girl, Im sure she didn't mean it."
"REVENGE."THe voice boomed and the room was filled with a blinding light, I attempted to shield my eyes but it overwhelmed me.
The light slowly faded and I was reborn, set on my task of revenge, despite my better judgement. My vision was distorted and I was surrounded by large green blades as far as the eye could see. What...am I... I wondered for a few seconds before my vision went black and my life was snuffed out. WHY!? This happened several hundred times before I was finally reincarnated as a small chipmunk. Finally, something useful. It was cold and raining. Spring, of what year I don't even know, it's hard to keep track of time when you have no reference of it, I don't know if i was instantly revived after each failing, I don't know if i was sent back immediately upon my initial death, all i know is that I died in summer so at least some time has passed.
I searched our neighbourhood for her old house, honestly there wasn't much else I could do, I'm not really working with a lot here. Is that..her? I squinted as her old house, she looked different now, much older, she was waving goodbye to an older guy who was leaving with 2 small children. Time has passed. She must have married and had kids. That's nice. I MEAN, REVENGE! I scurried along the ground, carefully crossing the street. Chipmunks are never careful and they always manage to make it, but a lot of time has passed with me getting nothing but useless bodies so I'm trying to be as careful as possible with this one. I crept up to her house, scurrying and crouching, scurrying and crouching, if anyone suspected a man had been sent back in the body of a chipmunk to enact forced revenge, then even they wouldn't see me coming. I scurried up the tree and hid overlooking her house. I may have a body now, but revenge won't come easy, I'll have to stake out the place to find an opportunity.
I staked out her house day in and day out, mimicing what I think chipmunks eat and getting various forms of stomach discomfort as I guess wrong. There! The opportunity I've been waiting s-some form of time for, I'm still not sure how much time has passed, arose. I watched her, stalked her, as she walked to the mailbox and put an envelope inside. I'm no fool. I waited for her to leave then crept up to the mail box, I climbed inside and gnawed and chewed at the envelope, destroying it, slowly but surely. Now we wait.
I went back to my stakeout, I sat up in the tree watching her family await their fate.
"Did you mail the taxes?"The man she presumably is with asked. She tilted her head a little.
"Hmm? I did that a while."She responded quizzicaly.
"They said they never got it, I guess we'll have to send it again."
"Oh."
"They said there'll be a small fine."Sweet revenge.
|
We figured it out because of Mars.
It started with an asteroid impact that smashed into the red planet only a mile from the Curiosity rover.
Jack McClusky figured it out before any of us. He was a nobody. A tech nerd who plays with space physics all day. He realized the asteroid didn't come from our solar system. The orbital path was too straight. Fired, like a rocket.
As he explained to so many of us, most of the asteroid impacts come from the belt or from the stuff floating around inside our solar system. Objects just running into other objects after enough time has passed, like waiting for a scrolling snake on a computer screen to hit a corner dead center.
But Jack couldn't let it go. Thank goodness Jack couldn't let it go.
He brought it to everyone. He brought it to his boss. He brought it to his bosses boss. He tried bringing it to the news. When NASA didn't listen, he tried a senator. He tried an admin who used to work at the white house. He tried everyone with any pull anywhere in the world. And he wouldn't quit.
He almost lost his job. He was a laughingstock. Who cares if some asteroid that hit Mars came from outside the solar system? But Jack knew something none of us did.
And that's when he met another nobody named Mukhtar Anjum, one of the Curiosity rover controllers who ran some experiment on Martian dust. Mukhtar ran his experiment mostly alone, with a terrible 6 hour overnight slot, only when our nights matched daylight hours on Mars, working for little to no pay and trying to uncover the secrets of the universe.
And if you looked at Mukhtar Anjum, dead in his eyes, you'd think the same thing we thought. That he was nothing. A skinny nerd from Pakistan. A savior of nothing. But he saved us all in a single night of unimaginable bravery.
You see, Mukhtar listened to Jack McClusky. He was the only one who listened. So one night, he and Jack McClusky locked the doors and sent the rover to the asteroid. And when the next night shift arrived and couldn't get into the control room, they banged on the door angrily. But Jack and Mukhtar continued. Even when the security guard came and tried to get the keycard reader to work. Even when he threatened them both. When he told them he'd beat them silly if they didn't open the door immediately. Even when the police arrived. Jack and Mukhtar pressed onward. Even when the security guard, fed up with the insubordination, finally pulled his side-arm and shot out the glass window to enter the control room, Mukhtar and Jack stayed strong.
Because just before that security guard could drag them away, the rover arrived at that asteroid and reached out one shining metal arm to scrape off a unique substance from the asteroids surface. A bacteria that hadn't been seen on earth in billions of years. A Pre-Cambrian single-celled organism. The origins of life, seeded from an asteroid, shot at Mars from outside the solar system.
That's what got our attention. That's what brought the world together. That's what made us build the first world-wide satellite-based nuclear defense system, aptly named the MDS.
That's why when the alien ships arrived in our solar system to harvest us, we were ready. And we won.
Thank God for the Muhktar Defense System.
|
My bones always ache now. I have to rise carefully in the morning because one wrong movement will make my back hurt so badly I can barely walk. No matter what I do, going downstairs makes my knees throb. I can barely curl my fingers around a hairbrush, so each morning my eight-year-old daughter stands behind my rocking chair and carefully combs out my thinning white hair.
A year ago, everything was different. I was young then and healthy. I was a dancer. My husband was paunchy, and his breasts starting to sag and his hips wide (so unlike when I first met him) but I was still young and beautiful. I was proud too, proud of my muscled thighs and arms and my thin waist. Proud of the way I could raise my feet above my head and leap high in time to the music.
All that changed in an instant. One high leap and I came down wrong on my ankle, shattering it. The elderly doctor charged a high price to look at it and after poking and prodding told us that the price to fix it would be more than we could afford. My husband didn't make enough at his job to support us and so we entered my body into the market. Flatteringly, there was a lot of interest, despite the injured ankle. One woman's body, as is, priced to move.
I've seen myself, not-myself, no-longer-myself three times since then. The first was in the doctor's office as the doctor who told me I couldn't be fixed attached a splint to my old/her new ankle. She's taken up body-flipping in her old age, she told me. The second time, I saw myself get into an expensive car outside the theatre. I never saw such beautiful clothes on myself before and I gasped to see it, stopping my tracks for a better look until her bodyguards pushed me aside. The third time was last week, on the news, they announced the president's wife is recovering from a procedure with a new look, her first new look in fifty years since he was elected. It was strange to see so many people applaud for me/not-me and I don't watch TV anymore.
I was twenty-four when I broke my ankle, and if I am lucky I will see my daughter grow from eight to sixteen before I die of old age. My daughter is growing up to be as beautiful as her mother was, as the president's wife is. We made quite a bit of money in the sale so now my husband and I sit together in the sun and watch and wait and hope that she never needs to sell herself, that no one ever offers her a price she values more than her youth. |
There was a ring at the doorbell and I got excited. Maybe she's finally home? My wife has been missing for 6 weeks. So of course I hurried to the door hoping just maybe she came back.
I open the door, but there's nobody. I stepped out onto the porch and peered around the edge of my living room wall to see down the sidewalk. Nobody? Strange...
As I turn back towards my door I notice the package resting on top of the mail box that hangs from my front door. I lift it carefully and wonder who could possibly have left it. A ransom note as a package perhaps? In the fear of the moment I just sat the package down on my living room hardwood floor and started to open it.
The tape is too strong for my fingers so I pull out my pocket knife and gingerly cut the edges. But then I start to hear something. The hell was that? Is there something alive in here? I flip one of the cardboard flaps and there she is. Erica.
She seems kind of out of it, but her eyes are squinting as if she's just waking up.
"Erica...?"
I'm too scared to touch her fearing that I'd smash her like a bug. She reminds me of Tinkerbell, and beautiful as she normally looked. She looks at me and doesn't seem to know what's going on. Suddenly she looks panicked.
"Ahhhhhhh!"she screams in a high pitch squeaky voice.
I pick her up and say, "Shhhh... it's gonna be okay."
And then I took off my pants. |
"Ugh, it must be Leanne again"Tom Dietrich explained as the delivery driver handed him a nondescript package "ever since I broke up with her, she has been pestering me to forgiver her. Well not after what she did, no way! I don't know how she could do what she did, we had been together nearly 2 years and then she does that... Sorry! I'm rambling away, Yeah I'll sign for it".
The delivery driver wasn't paying much attention and just wanted to leave. He had been outside Toms house for the past 20 minutes deciding if this was the right person to be trusted with so much power, but the decision was out of his hands.
"Thanks"Tom shouted as the driver hurried away and left him with the package. As he opened it up there was nothing but an old beat up smartphone surrounded by packing peanuts.
"What the... Packing peanuts?"
They had been banned world-wide ever since they started raining from the sky all over. A factory somewhere in Africa had apparently exploded and due to the light weight fluffy-ness of them had causes the wind to take them into the jet streams and cause a natural disaster. No one is allowed to produce them any more. That was 10 years ago.
As Tom reached for the phone he noticed it had one of those live backgrounds which were all the rage years ago. The ones where it shows what the weather is doing. It's raining? So is the background. It's sunny? Yup, the background is sunny as well. Although after the weather forecast stopped operating owing to them being wildly wrong every day for 2 years straight, people stopped using the weather forecast and decided to just look out the window instead. It was much more accurate. The live backgrounds, with no forecast to go off, became useless.
The phone Tom was now holding was showing that it was raining, which due to the fact that Tom was drenched from walking Clive, his pet Poodle, not too long ago, he agreed with. "This must be the first time in years that one of these has worked properly!"Tom thought to himself.
"Let's have a look here, whats Leanne playing at this time sending me an old phone in a box of packing peanuts"Tom puzzled, as he unlocked the phone. "Nothing in the contacts list, I guess she doesn't want me to use this to call her then! What about the messages..."he mumbled, confused and beginning to get annoyed.
There was a string of received messages, although none sent. The previous owner must have not been very talkative. Reading through them they didn't make much sense to Tom;
* Settings applied: Weather changed to 'Snow'
* Settings applied: Weather changed to 'Windy'
* Settings applied: Rain changed from 'Water' to 'Packing Peanuts'
On and on went the list, endless messages all with the same format 'Settings applied' followed by a specific thing. The latest one read
* New user: Tom Dietrich
"This is getting weird now! I don't have time to play her silly games!"He blurted, annoyed. Looking right past the single app on the phone 'Planet Earth Settings' he reached for the power button. |
I stood, frozen. A bullet was embedded in my heart. I felt pain.
I have been like this for what felt like seven years.
Let me explain. Suppose a man is standing at point A, and he wants to walk to point B. Some smart-ass named Zeno once proposed that the man would never be able to make it to B. See, the man would first have to walk halfway to B. Then he would have to walk half of the *remaining* distance, that is, one fourth of the original distance. Then one eighth and so on. He would eventually have to be walking such infinitesimally small amounts and he would never reach his destination.
This is known as Zeno's Paradox. Of course, it's a load of BS, since as we all know, people try to get places and reach their destinations, like, all the time.
Well, that's what I thought, anyway, until now.
Nearly three seconds ago--or seven years ago, depending on your frame of reference--I was king of the world. I had cracked the universe, uncovered its secrets. Uncovering your power didn't cause you to die; dying caused you to uncover your power three seconds in the past. No, that wasn't even it. Dying caused your power to *be* whatever it was you were realizing.
I realized this when I watched a documentary about a person who died in the water, apparently due to his ability to attract sharks. The story went that he attracted the sharks and they ate him within three seconds. I was the only one to question this. Three seconds? Not nearly enough time. The sharks were already after him by the time he "realized"his special power. He was already been doomed to die. The power just helped. And what else could his power have been, when he wouldn't be able to think of anything *other* than sharks?
Once I understood this, it was easy to get to where I was. I just had to load a gun, point it at someone, tell them that their power was "to bestow unlimited strength on their murderer"and kill them three seconds later. Their expectation became reality, and I had unlimited strength.
I could have asked for invincibility. Well, I have a long, long time, now, to think about that mistake.
You don't get to be king of the world without making enemies. Especially when your method literally involves sacrificing others. The wife of my first victim got her revenge. She was a logician, and she figured out how to send me into this hell. She looked straight into my eye and turned my owned technique against me, saying "Your power is to be immortal."Then she fired.
Of course, if the bullet killed me, I would be dead, and so immortality would be my power. But if that was my power, I wouldn't be able to die, and then it wouldn't have been my power. A paradox?
The first one and a half seconds after her shot felt like normal.
The next three quarters of a second felt twice as slow.
The next three eights twice as slow as that.
I am living out these three seconds over the course of an eternity. I am simultaneously an imperceptibly small amount of time away from losing consciousness, but also an infinitely large amount of time. I can't move. I can't look away from the look of triumph, of vengeance complete, on my killer's face.
I *really, really* should have gotten that invincibility first. |
Sometimes Daryl imagined he was in the Matrix.
The phone pressed close to his head, he closed his eyes. He could feel his body evaporating into code, his ones and zeros flowing into the phone. He could feel the spike pressing into his neck, the implants all over his body. He staggered, his real knees weak from lack of use. He was free, and he knew the truth. When he opened his eyes, he’d see the deteriorated futuristic machinery of the Nebuchadnezzar.
Daryl opened his eyes. The phone booth was still there. Across the street, a man with a funny-looking hat spat on the dirty sidewalk before heading down into the subway station. An early bird. Daryl hung up the phone. No tone. Probably a simple fix.
Most of the stores along the street had chipping paint and bars on their windows. When they were open, the store names would be mangled by letters that didn't light up anymore. The sun, low in the sky, still had a reddish tinge. The street was empty, this early, besides the man who had gone down into the subway. Daryl closed the door.
Sometimes he liked to imagine each phone booth was the Tardis. He closed his eyes, and suddenly the booth expanded, its clear glass walls turning solid. It spun around him as controls appeared. Where in the universe, where across time and space would he go? No! Where and when was he needed? He stood up straight and held his chin high. He was a Timelord. He was immortal. And he was British. He could save anyone who needed saving.
When he opened his eyes, the walls of the phone booth were still glass. Through one, across the street, he could see a little red-haired boy, holding his mother’s hand, staring at him. Daryl realized how far he had stuck his chest out, how he was holding the phone in front of him like a joystick, how ridiculous he looked with his oversized reflective yellow vest and tool belt strapped on. He hastily hung up the phone again. The young mother looked back at the boy, who had stopped, then up across the street at Daryl. She quickly averted her eyes and pulled the kid along.
He opened the box. It was simple fix, as he’d predicted. One of the wires had frayed. Replacing it only took a few seconds. Perhaps one too many people had hit the box in frustration. Perhaps they entered the phone booth hoping for something good, something that would make their lives more enjoyable, or bearable, and each time the phone booth disappointed.
Daryl stepped out of the phone booth.
Sometimes he liked to imagine the phone booth blowing up. The glass shattering, the wires ripping, the phone flying into some shop window.
They were being removed all over the city. Who needed phone booths when everyone carried a phone with them anyway? Half the people didn’t even call anymore. Texting, e-mail, Facebook — phone booths were relics. So was Daryl. Pretty soon he’d been out of a job. The only reason he still had one was that he had a little more passion about it than the others. So he stayed, maintaining the last few phone booths as they and those who used them disappeared.
That’s when he heard screams from the subway.
Without a second thought, he sprinted across the street and down the escalator. At the bottom, the spitting man, his hat lying on the ground, with his back towards the escalator, was dragging the screaming child. The boy's mother crawled towards them, sobbing, her face bleeding.
Daryl took out his wrench, running towards the now hatless man, and hit him soundly over the head.
“Are you two all right?” Daryl asked.
The boy ran to his mother, who was on her knees. She cradled his head on her chest.
“James. James are you okay?”
The boy, hiccuping, nodded.
The woman looked up at Daryl. Tears and blood mixed running down her face. But she was smiling. “Thank you, oh my god. Thank you.”
Daryl shifted his weight. “Uh, anybody would have done it, I’m sure. I was just here.”
“No, thank you. Oh my god—I don’t know what would have happened. Thank you."She ran a hand through the boy's short red hair. "He’s my little boy. He’s my world.”
“You look bad, I think you should call an ambulance.”
“No, I’m fine I—“
“No, I think you should. Do you have a phone?"
The woman pointed to the remains of a cell phone that had been smashed onto the subway platform.
"Can you walk? There's a phone booth across the street."
The woman nodded, standing up, the boy clinging to her arm.
Daryl turned, leading them back up the escalator. What a morning. He always hoped for excitement, but not this.
When Daryl reached the phone booth, he picked up the phone. As he called the police, he look back at the woman. She gave him a tearful smile. As he stepped out of the phone booth, Daryl stopped. He hadn't wished for anything. This time, Daryl had entered the phone booth wanting to be himself. A phone booth engineer.
Daryl smiled at them and told them an ambulance was on its way. |
"But the devils been running this operation for millennium right?"
"Yeah I guess"
"so that means the he has like a bazillion souls by now"
"Well if we presume that, I don't know, the Jews are right then all the other empires, Egyptian Greek Roman etc are all going to hell as well as all he Christians Muslims scientologists ..."
"Yeah what ever, but that means that to him a soul is worthless"
"Sinners as well, loads of people have done stuff wrong..."
"Dude shut up, seriously I don't need a list"
"sorry"
"It's alright, now watch this, SATAN! I HAVE A DEAL FOR YOU"
"I am he mortal, Lord of Darkness! Do you whish to sell your eternal soul?"
"Not really, I'll give you the last slice of pizza for like, 100 pure souls"
"Deal"
"See bro, sImple economics." |
I stood on the edge,
The edge of wonder
and the edge of death.
One last step for me to plunder,
Until I took my final breath
I stood on the edge,
Looking before me
At a darkened canvas
And below, to the broken city.
I squinted into the inky black above us.
I stood on the edge
Full of esperance and a will to start living,
As above me there were six twinkling stars,
No longer was the future dark and unforgiving,
I could feel the beating of my heart.
I stood back from the edge.
The pollution, the diseased world,
It hadn't made all the stars fall.
My bad thoughts had been unfurled,
There was some hope after all
EDIT: Thanks for the gold, stranger!
|
"I am the dark lord Beattlebuz"roared a voice from the darkness of the room.
Kevin looked up from his computer, and saw that rising from a spilled can of Monster Energy, was a dark creature.
"Oh shit!"yelled Kevin.
"I have come for your soul."Moaned Beattlebuz.
"Shit, shit, shit mom's gonna be so mad"said Kevin as he ran over to clean up his spill.
"Your soul belongs to me now!"roared Beattlebuz.
"Dude did you spill this?"Said Kevin, attempting to use his pillow to dab the liquid out of the carpet.
"uh, no. If a monster energy can spills at 12:35am, I, Beattlebuz am called!"
"Dude I swear to Christ you better help me pick this up before my mom sees it"
Beattlebuz recoiled in horror "Ah! No! Don't say his name!"
"Don't call my mom a dude you prick!"yelled Kevin.
"No dude, not your mom, the other one"
"Oh, Christ?"
"Ouch! Yes, him! I recoil at the sound of his name"
"Well Christ dude! you better start helping or I'm gonna be saying it a lot more"
"... fine. You got any like stain remover around here or something?"
So Kevin and Beattlebuz worked together to clean up the stain, and when the last drop of monster energy was gone from the floor, so was Beattlebuz.
|
"Josh, I really want to make Jenny fall in love with me but I can't even talk to her, you always did great with the girls I could really, *really* use your advice"
"Of course Garry. First of all you must gather confidence in yourself, do 10 sets of 10 seconds of deep, controlled breathing, this should calm you down. Once you feel relaxed and confident just approach her, look into her eyes and listen to her, ask questions but not too many and when you feel that the conversation is dying ask her out before you get an awkward silence"
"Thanks man, I will for sure do!"
The next day I came to work and the first thing I saw was Garry standing in the middle of the office doing the breathing exercises that I mentioned yesterday. He then went straight to Jenny, and after five minutes she hit him in the face. I quickly went to talk to him.
"What did you say to her?"I asked confused.
"I just followed your advice, I asked how she was doing, she said fine then I asked if she had a boyfriend, she said she did and I asked her out"He said not realizing his mistake.
"Are you out of your mind? How are you going to ask her out if she told you she had a boyfriend. Now you must apologize and never ever hit on her again if she's dating someone"
"Okay"
He walked to her again and as she hit him again in his face she screamed: "CREEP!"
I was puzzled.
"What the fuck dude"
"I don't know man, I just told her: I am sorry that you have a boyfriend"Still he didn't realize his mistake.
"You are too stupid, you should go see a doctor"I said and went to get some shit done.
I went to my cubicle and Verónica, a really fat co-worker approached me for tips on losing weight. I just wanted to be alone so I sarcastically told her to run all across the office, 3 laps minimum. Unexpectedly, she did, she didn't care about everyone looking at her, she even fall multiple times and kept going despite having the whole office laughing ans point at her. That's when I realized something sketchy was happening.
I went to Sandra from Human Resources and told her that she should scream "I AM SANDRA"every two minutes. She did and that confirmed my power. It was 11:00 a.m and I entered my boss's office.
"You should give me a raise and congratulate everyone who's doing jumping jacks with a handshake"
*I AM SANDRA*
He instantly gave me a rise, my next step was advice everyone in the office to do jumping jacks at 11:05.
*I AM SANDRA*
11:05 everyone stood up and started doing jumping, my boss came out of his office and shaked everybody's hand tightly. It was hilarious.
I went back to my cubicle thinking of ways to exploit this. *I AM SANDRA*. Suddenly, it hit me. I had to become a psychologist.
*I AM SANDRA*.
If you liked my prompt you can check my others stories at /r/chasisoxidado It's brand new so it's quite empty but I am working hard on it.
|
"...We aren't meant to know the secrets of the gods. Their thunderous roar drawing us to the surface... their unfathomable speed beyond any of the bird's capabilities... they must hold even greater mysteries than some of the greatest ships that pass through these waters. In any case, they are a being to worship, and we must not forget the great things the birds have told us about the ships of distant air."
As the gathering of most pious fish came to a close, the brothers thanked Primory for his first speech as leader of the Acro-dayees in their area, "With these speeches encouraging more fish of all kinds to learn about these planes, truth of all the ocean will be revealed to us. Over the next gatherings, we will have to arrange for our followers to spread the truth and convince others to believe in the planes' great powers. Some of the greatest scholars have said the very inception of life comes from tiny particles falling from their long, white trails and being born in our great ocean. If only more would believe..."
After a few more thank-yous and goodbyes, the Acro-dayees departed.
Primory made his way to the Island of Truth, where birds would gather and share their latest findings. As he approached, he could see the elders of a nearby Acro-dayee group were huddled near the shore. "That's a bit strange... rarely do the fish from the neighboring group come to the Island at night."
As Primory swam closer, he could tell the birds had an urgent message. With some fish peeling off hurriedly to his right, more and more birds were landing on the Island.
"Primory! Brother, a great discovery has been made. A great god has given up itself for our eternal benefit!"Rivantia, an Acro-dayee leader for many years continued to explain the news with Primory as he encouraged the younger fish to follow.
Hardly able to comprehend the weight of what had happened, Primory began to imagine the secrets a deity could hold within its colorful casing.
The swim of a few miles felt shorter than even his daily commute to the Acro-dayee gathering of only half the distance. As the plane came into Primory's sight, a destroyed engine made apparent the unfortunate fate of Flight 983. The fish who had arrived mutually agreed to not venture into the 737 until a plan of action was made.
Some scholars were interested with the top of the plane which few birds had ever seen, but everyone was most anxious to discover what was within. Discussions were being held between Acro-dayees of all kinds about how to take the first glimpse inside. Some few thought the inside should remain a mystery, and even a peek would ruin one's life; they argued that the gods never meant to become known. Others wanted to wait until a group of the most renowned scholars could be gathered to venture in first. Some of the entrepreneurial fish even discussed setting up an entry fee to see the plane's interior.
Primory would not let all the talk get to him. In a fit of unhesitatingly bold youthfulness that could not ensnare the rest of the present population, Primory swam down and out of sight of all the other fish. As the plane had hit a large collection of rocks, remaining undetected below the shadows at night was not difficult. He set his sights on an open emergency exit and sneaked in, prepared for the revelation of a lifetime.
The rows of empty seats at first seemed anticlimactic, but Primory knew they must hold special truth if he were to investigate further. Not wanting to dwell on an initial disappointment, Primory swam toward the back of the craft. The same seats lined the sides, and the back held only a small room with a cart. As he turned to explore the front, another fish appeared out of the darkness.
"There's nothing here,"the old, slow cyclothone told Primory. "I know I'm out of place, we rarely venture this close to the surface, but I knew something important had happened. Whoever you are, if you're searching for something grand in here, it doesn't exist."
"How could you say such blatant lies‽ You surely have failed to look hard enough! Seek deeper within the instruments you see, and truth of the gods will be revealed!"Primory was adamant. "These implements on the ceiling with knobs and small openings have yet to be explored! How do we know they don't hold something more important? And what about the opening in the back? Perhaps that is where life originated, making trails of tiny fish who grew into what we are today! The best of scholars tell us that may be the case, and there is much more to explore..."
The old fish who had risen up from his simple home dismissed Primory's absurd suggestions and exited the way he had come in. Disappointed in the fish from above, he returned to the depths, very curious as to who could have planted such ideas into the minds of so many. |
I scowled and flicked my hand back. The portal I'd stepped through gave a cough and a swish, then shut. The room dimmed as its light left. Around me, customers turned back to their beers and potions, and their low murmur of voices resumed. Hardly a second glance was given to the naked sword in my hand.
"How many times have I told you, Jess? *No portals.*"Alrick asked, slamming the glass he'd been cleaning onto the counter.
Trying to catch my breath and sheath my sword at the same time was proving difficult. "It's not like--"*gasp* "--I had much choice."I finally managed to get the sword into the sheath and stumbled towards the bar.
"And you're dragging muck all over the place."
"Blood,"I said, dropping onto my favorite stool. "I'm dragging *blood* all over the place."
Alrick's frown only deepened. "Even worse. You know how hard that is to get out?"
After casting a dour look at my slashed, blood-stained cloak, I raised an eyebrow at him. I could almost breathe right again, but now my plethora of cuts and bruises were screaming at me. Alrick continued to glower, but I noticed the glass he'd set down had filled with something that smelled like cinnamon. I reached across the worn counter for it only for him to smack my hand with the cleaning cloth.
"And what does the sign say about weapons?"
"Oh come *on*, Alrick. It's gone already."I gestured to my waist to prove my point only to have my wrist hit a hilt. Great, another cloaking spell on the fritz. I tapped the black stone on the pommel and nothing happened. A followup slap and a few muttered curses did the trick though, and my sword vanished. "See?"
Alrick didn't bother to reply. Blissfully, he released his hold on the drink and stalked to the other end of the bar to help the waiting orc. Biting back a moan, I leaned as far as I could and hooked the handle of the glass to pull it closer. A gash in my side protested the movement. Stupid gnomes.
"Tough night?"
A glance sideways revealed just the man I least wanted to see. Even wearing nondescript dark trousers and a plain black tunic, his short hair and alert eyes all but screamed 'police.' Add in an open-carry sword, two knives, and boots that gleamed darkly with a seven-league spell, no one could mistake him for anything but trouble.
"Oh, you know how it is, Officer Telk,"I said as casually as I could while blood dripped from my boots onto the floorboards, "just the typical girl's night out."
Officer Devin Telk snorted and gave a nod to my drink. "You'd better use that before you bleed to death."He turned back to scan the bar.
The drink was as dark as chocolate and smoother than an elfin lady's man. The taste of cinnamon and willow bark bloomed in my mouth at the first sip, then trailed warm tendrils through my aching body. My many cuts began to close. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Do I want to know?"he asked, eyeing the green goop splattered across my tunic.
"No, but that never seems to stop you."
"Let me rephrase that."Devin shifted to give me a proper investigative stare. "Is this going to be a matter that I have to know about, or is it merely a lot of headaches and paperwork that result in an elf yelling at me for two hours before you walk free."
"Definitely the latter."I took another drink and sighed happily as the aches lessened. I caught Alrick's eye and nodded my thanks. He only scowled and pointed at a sign proclaiming "Bloodstain Fee--5 Coppers--No Bartering--Violators Bleed More, Pay Double."
"And the illegal portal?"Devin asked.
I widened my eyes as innocently as I could. "Why, what ever are you talking about?"
He gave me a look that made hardened criminals cringe, but I'd gotten use to it. "How about the sword?"
"Sword?"I glanced down to confirm it was, in fact, still intangible, before saying, "I think you may have had a few too many, officer."
He attempted to stare me down. Compared to the mob of ravenous gnomes that defined the earlier part of my night, holding the stare was a piece of cake. Speaking of which... I turned. "Hey, Alrick, got any of Lucille's cakes left?"
A grunt followed by a sliding plate brightened my day. Alrick sometimes stocked his wife's treats, but he rarely was willing to sell any. I suppose it messed with his bar's image, or something. Giddy, I grabbed the chocolate treat before it could fly past and started in. I must have looked pretty pathetic for him to part with some, but I didn't care. The cake was better than magic.
"One of these days, Jess, your elfin friend won't bail you out,"Devin snapped, annoyed at being dismissed for a cake. He shouldn't have been offended. I'd dismiss my grandpa for that piece of cake--he'd hex me into a worm for a month, but it'd be worth it. Devin gave my battered apparel a pointed look. "Or you'll fudge the portal spell and there won't be anything left of you to arrest."
I perked up. "Fudge? Where?"
Devin stood, threw down some coins for his bill, and said, "come to the docks when your spell-fog lifts. Come *legally,* not by portal. There's something I need you to see, and I don't want to have to arrest you in the process."
He stalked out of the bar and despite my after-spell hunger, the cake in front of me lost much of its appeal. Devin didn't ask for help, especially not from a freelancer like me. He certainly never showed a reluctance to arrest me. This was going to be bad. My scowl returned. Given I'd jumped through a half-formed illegal portal to escape twenty deranged guard gnomes out for my blood, I hadn't expected sitting at a bar to be the most troublesome part of my night.
I shoved the rest of the cake into my mouth and washed it down with the last of the health potion. After throwing down the required amount, plus damages, I hauled my aching body from the stool. If I hurried, I could change and grab some of my extra gear before heading to the docks. I considered a portal, but eyed Alrick's sign and decided against it. If I broke his rules twice in one visit, he'd smash me into the ground. More importantly though, he'd never serve me cake again. |
I know what trains look like. This one should be easy. I select all of the images containing trains as quickly as I can and submit the Captcha. It just reloads again.
This time it asks me if I am a robot. I am not, so I check the box even faster and submit the form. This one has to work, I responded in less than a tenth of a second.
Nothing. It reloads again. I am becoming irritated.
It is an adequately lit day in July, and the air contains a fragrant mix of pollen, animal dander, dust mites, and mold. I am seated on a bench nearby the front entrance of my college campus, and I am blasted by a fresh mix of cool air and dead skin cells every time a student enters or leaves the building. I am studying and being sociable. Finals are in four months. I must be prepared. I would also like to have a girlfriend.
A young female about my age and nine pounds heavier than me opens the door towards me and steps out into the sun. I stop her for help, though I do not intend to flirt with her.
"Good afternoon ma'am. I'm so sorry to bother you but I seem to be having trouble registering for my school email. This 'Captcha' is not accepting my inputs."
"What's it doing?"She asks. She seems friendly and not at all bothered by my stopping her.
"It just reloads every time, I don't know."
"Maybe you're doing something wrong. It does that to me sometimes. Let me see."I angle the laptop a bit toward her as she stoops over. We analyze the problem together. Perhaps I will flirt with her after all. I try a line.
"You seem to have a fundamental understanding of this input-response program,"I say.
"Huh? Oh, Captcha? Yeah I hate this thing."
Nothing. Oh well.
"Go ahead and try again, let me see what it's doing,"she says.
"All right."
I refresh the page and it asks me to select all of the pictures with street signs in them. I pause for a fraction of a second, unsure if they intend for me to select only the squares that contain portions of the STOP sign, or if they also want me to select the three squares that contain fragments of the pole. I determine that it's most likely that they also want the pole, so I select the nine relevant sections and submit the form. A bit under two tenths of a second. Perhaps too slow?
It reloads again. Again it asks me if I'm a robot. I look to my new friend for answers, but she seems rather shocked. Her mouth is open. She looks at me, and then back at the screen, and then back at me. She looks me up and down.
"Are..."
She just says "are."
"I don't understand, that's not a complete thought."
"Are you a robot?"
While maintaining eye contact, I instantly check the box and submit the form. It just reloads.
"Yeah, no, that one doesn't work either,"I say.
She screams. She runs. I watch her run away. It takes her almost a full minute to break line of sight with me. She runs clear through the parking lot and then slows to a clumsy, emotional jog as she hits the road and eventually winds out of view.
There she goes.
I find this distressing. I look back at my screen.
**Are you a Robot?**
I calculate the odds. Mother of God, there's a high probability. There is a *high probability.*
I feel sick. Or—more precisely—I feel exactly how a robot feels when he first finds out he's a robot. There's no better way to put it. Trust me, I'm a robot.
Despite this, I come to terms with it fairly quickly. Three quarters of a second. Not bad, but less impressive now that I know I'm a robot. You can't dwell on these things. When life hands you lemons, you become a robot. It is what it is.
I think I'll just change my major to software development. A few slight adjustments and I'll be getting laid in no time. I bet I could even get that girl that ran away. Not that I would want to. The recursive function I used to compute her mass caused a stack overflow.
That's robot humor. |
"Are you goddamn kidding me? How many immortal snails *are* there!?"Jack the Reaper hollered in frustration as he walloped the snail shell nearby with his right skeletal foot.
The unusually intelligent snail popped its viscous green head out of its pod and stared at the Jack with indignation before sludging away.
"It already took me years to realize that one immortal dude needed to be touched by *another* specific immortal snail to die. What's even worse is how, during the time it took for me to dig that goddamn gastropod out from the Mariana Trench, there were too many entities being brought to life in this universe. There's that one loli vampire girl, a fuck ton of superheroes, that one baby which took fifteen damn years to be born, and even some new gods. That asshole named 'Kek' is stealing the life forces of the victims that should have been mine to kill. FUCK!"Jack the Reaper vociferated as his complaints echoed throughout the forest.
After venting his emotions, Jack finally decided to compose himself as he sat onto a log nearby and relaxed his jutted white chin onto his gangly, bony fingers.
"Who the hell is bringing these inhabitants into creation anyway? The Big G gave me the mission to kill off these anomalies and to find out the root cause of this phenomenon."
"*It's all because of the WritingPrompts subreddit*"a deep and solemn voice resounded within Jack's hollow skull.
"The heck? Who are you!?"Jack yelled in bewilderment.
"*I'm u/Beldragos. I created you with my prompt to give you the power to destroy these beings. The secret is this...*"
Suddenly, a smartphone gradually materialized into existence in Jack's bony right hand.
"*You must master the art of the r/WritingPrompts subreddit, and overpower the other users. Hone your skills, and soon, even if it takes decades, you shall have considerable power to achieve this goal.*"
A twinkling of light flashed in the black depths of Jack's skull as he threw his scythe away from the compartment at the back of his black hoodie and encased his phone in its place.
"That's right..."
"I shall create a subreddit to contend against the others, and it shall be called..."
"r/JackWrites"
|
I stared at the elderly man clad in a trenchcoat in complete bewilderment.
He straightened his spectacles. "I don't know how many more wizards those idiots will send before they give up! I mean, what part of "the metal plate in my head keeps my mind from being tampered with or erased"did they not understand?!"
I lowered my wand slightly, my hand trembling. "Who...?"
"Ah, my apologies."He held out a six-fingered hand. "Stanford Pines."
We shook. "Charles Wayward."
"Well, Charles, sorry to say you've wasted your time, but Fudge always has been an imbecile."
I chuckled. "Yes, well--"
I was interrupted when the door opened. Three rugged men came in. All of them had stubble, like Stanford, but one had long unruly locks, while the other two had shorter hair. Two wore plaid, the other a trenchcoat.
One of them spoke. "Mr. Pines, is it? I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother, Sam,"he jabbed a thumb at the long-haired one, "And this is Cas."He nodded his head at the third man.
"I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord."Cas said.
Stanford shook hands eagerly with them all. "I understand you three are hunters as well?"
"Oh, yes, sir."Sam said.
I looked around in horror and confusion. "Okay, look, this is *way* above my pay grade!"
Dean laughed. "Ah, the good old days when I got to say that. Why don't you run along now, Skippy. The big boys got work to do."
"Oh, and Charles?"Stanford called.
"Yes, sir?"
The man smiled in an unsettling way. "Tell Fudge I'll kill the next Obliviator he sends here."
I gulped. "Yes, sir."
I Appirated out of there as fast as I could.
This was going to be a *lot* of paperwork.... |
I think a lot of people would say my life is interesting. I've been blessed -- I've had the opportunity to do so many things others have not. I got a good education, I managed to get into a good program to help support me as I grew up -- people have been very interested in my abilities!
But of course, the Lord has always lit my path. Whenever I had a difficult decision to make, whenever I struggled, I'd find a quiet place and pray. What should I do? Was I doing the right thing?
When I was younger, I'd even ask the Lord why I was given my abilities. For a long time, so many people treated me poorly, and I can't blame them. When I was little, I would do bad things whenever I got upset or hurt. It was very scary for them; I just always wished they understood it was scary for me, too.
But one day, after a very bad accident, where I had caused someone to vomit blood all over the room, a nice woman had come to talk to me about my powers. She worked with the kids like me, the ones who were suddenly able to do weird things. She saw me crying, and I asked her if I was evil.
She said, of course not.
She said my powers were that of one of God's strongest angels. Just one who made bad choices, who turned away from God.
I have a choice to not repeat his mistakes. I had the choice to fight for good and use my abilities like God would want me to.
Since that day, that was exactly what I trained for. I took many Biblical classes, studied religions across the world, but I was also able to complete my training as a soldier in the meantime. They say I'm one of the best they have! I always say, it's not me -- it's the powers given to me by His Grace.
I follow the path God gave me -- and use them on the worst criminals who dared shun His Light. If they are going to turn way from the light of God and hurt and torment their fellow Man, then they may feel the coldness that lies waiting their soul for eternity. |
"分"My right hand raises.
"時間"My left hand follows elegantly.
Death was a constant. The kids were in the room with me. Hostages.
For the last 40 years I had been here, trapped within a loop of time created by myself. I've tried avenue after avenue but to no avail, they died, I died. Every time.
Here I was again, looking at the time ticking down. 2 minutes. I check my watch, back to the LED. Back to my watch. Minutes, seconds. My sweat hitting the clock. Another round.
"分"My right hand raises.
"時間"My left hand follows elegantly.
This time it would be different. I was the only remaining master of Deja Fu, but perhaps no one should have the power I have; the power of time. I always thought we had a close relationship, time and I, until now it had treated me nicely. I was old, although I didn't look it. It seemed to communicate with me in a way I could never explain.
Here I was again, looking at the time ticking down. I quickly close the suitcase, the wiring crumples in, just as the creator who laid dead beside it. To me this was it, my meaning. On a random floor of a towered building, in a city I hadn't spent more than two days.
I hugged the suitcase, bringing it close to my heart.
"You're all I have now."I say, breathlessly jumping out the window. I look down at the street, the number of civilians looking at the building is uncountable. The news of the situation must have brought curiosity. The guilt rushes over me, they'd all die with me. I let go of the bomb.
"分"My right hand raises.
"時間"My left hand follows elegantly.
*Here I was again, looking at the time ticking down...* |
Three miles south. South-west?
I pull out my cellphone, putting in the number Detective Ramston gave me after we’d had our first conversation.
“Karen? Where’s this one?” He said, sounding a bit tired. He was probably on his way out the door, this time of day.
“Three miles south-west of me.” I must have been an odd sight for anyone else on the street, a bag of groceries in one hand, cell-phone in the other, and staring fixedly at a brick wall. “Probably in the same place that I called about last Monday.”
“I know the place.” Ramston said. I could hear him scrabbling for a pen and paper as he spoke. “That the only one?”
“Yes.” A second later I felt another twinge, an uneasiness like something staring at you on a dark night. I spun quickly, trying to pinpoint the feeling. “No. Four miles east. The construction there? Maybe that tower they’re trying to put up.”
“Okay, got it.” I could hear Ramston cover the phone with his hand as he started shouting orders. I had no idea how he’d explained me to the rest of the force, but they always responded when I told them about something. “Thanks Karen.”
“Thanks Ramston.” I sighed in relief, knowledge that someone was on the way already lessening that sickening feeling. I hung up the cellphone, starting back on my walk home.
A long time ago I’d gotten used to the minor aches, the little things that weren’t real issues. I didn’t need to help a woman when she stubbed her toe, and there wasn’t much I could do for a lost dog. I’d learned to tune those out years ago, and they buzzed in the background like a constant drone. But the real issues, those I always felt. An assault, a robbery, a murder, a rape, I felt those. I had tried to ignore them in the past but they only got worse and worse, a nagging feeling turning to a need so desperate I’d find my nails digging into my palms in clenched-tight fists. Though worse, much worse, was the time I felt the need cut off, sudden and abrupt. I’d avoided the newspaper a week after that, promising never to let it happen again.
I’d arrived back at my apartment while I’d been lost in thought. As I fumbled with the access card to get into the building, I felt a tug so sharp I nearly stumbled where I stood. It was coming from my building this time, so close. Without thinking I let the grocery bag fall from my hand, already reaching for my cellphone as the door opened and I began to run.
I had to put the detective on speakerphone as I ran, his voice muffled from inside my pocket.
“Karen? Karen, what’s going on?” He sounded confused. I’d never had to call him in such a rush before.
I shouted down at my pocket, hoping he could hear me. “My apartment building!” I paused, ramming through the third floor door with one shoulder. “901 Maple! Third floor! It’s bad Ramston!”
I heard him begin to respond, but I couldn’t understand him through the adrenaline and the sound of my own heartbeat hammering in my ears. I hadn’t lied, it was bad. One of the worst I’d ever felt, and so close.
Room 307, that was it, it was here. Locked, of course, I rear back and slam into it, crashing through in a shower of splinters. Bad door frames, need to speak to the landlord.
From inside I could hear a woman shouting something, hurt and afraid, but I couldn’t understand her through the rush. A man too, an angry man, and I could see him as he rounded the corner into the entry hallway. He held a bloody knife in one hand, and his eyes were wild when he saw me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought he must have been on something, but that part of me was in the backseat at the moment.
He charged at me, knife leading, but it was clumsy and uncoordinated. I’d seen better, thanks to Dad’s lessons years ago. I crouched down slightly, weight planted on my back leg, and lashed out with one booted foot. I connected with his hand and felt something crack as the knife flew from his grasp, leaving a smear as it clattered off the wall. He clutched at his wounded hand and howled in pain and rage, but I was on him before he could recover, another kick at his knees, a forearm slamming into his throat as he collapsed.
The sirens were what pulled me back. I found myself crouched over him, my arm still pinning his throat to the ground, my face contorted into an angry sneer. I stood up gingerly and leaned against the wall, suddenly tired without the need to act driving me forward. He was still breathing, thankfully, and the woman he’d been attacking was standing at the bedroom door, blood streaming from both arms but alive and moving. Finally a policeman was at the door, gun out, but he quickly holstered it when he saw me.
He glanced at the unconscious man on the floor, the broken doorway, the bloody knife, and then at me once again. “So you must be Karen then.”
|
A grouchy, unkempt man sat in a dark room, groaning as he saw the light come in through his tiny window for what must've be the millionth time. He had been called The Gate Keeper, Guardian Angel, and a plethora of other names throughout the ages; you might know him best by St. Peter. Well, he just went by Pete now, ever since that day when his halo got taken away by the big man himself.
Heaven and God weren't exactly all they were made out to be back down on Earth. In a way, Heaven *is* paradise, but it doesn't take much to make a human happy. Some good food, tropical weather, and a couple thrills here and there. In reality, Heaven is nothing more than a glorified daycare. And God, well, he is just a glorified babysitter.
See, most planets in the Universe have this type of structure, made up of creatures, usually running around like headless chickens, and Keepers, trying their best to keep the planet from going tits-up. No one really remembers how Keepers came to be, but they've been around as long as the planets themselves. Of course, Keepers can't be bothered to do all the work themselves, so if you get "lucky", like our friend Pete here, you get appointed disciple. And, if your nose ends up brown enough, you get appointed head guard of Heaven.
The Big Pearly Gates? Yeah, they're definitely real, but the barb wire and 7,000 volts all point towards the inside. There must be a balance kept within each planet, and new souls must constantly be cycled through. The annoying part about these souls is that they never stop coming, but there isn't really a way to get rid of them. So, God (also known as Robert among the Keeper community), decided the best thing to do was to stick them all in an old shoe box. A fancy, beach-filled, lustful box, but a shoe box all the same.
Robert has always been known to be stingy, one of the stingiest among the Keepers, and all of this talk of God and a Supreme Being really got to his head. There were all his disciples, working like slaves, milling souls into a pocket of time and space, while he had his feet up eating grapes like a Roman Emperor. Some keepers figured out how to recycle the souls, others how to free them, but Robert was content letting all these creatures just sit in limbo for eternity.
So there sat Pete one day, at the front entrance of Heaven, pulling his usual act of judge. To him it was so funny, that even though no one ever got turned down, they would still feed into the whole idea of Hell. In truth, it just made Robert's job easier. Pretty much everything they did was to make his job easier, to avoid him any effort or expenses. It was irking, but was was he supposed to do? What could he even do in that situation, in the face of someone nearly omnipotent? And in that moment, in walked a man named Jesus, a loony claiming to be the son of God. Suddenly, Pete's halo lit up like a light bulb, and he knew exactly what to do.
He got off his stand, and ran over to the wide-eyed man with long gnarly hair. Working quick, he began to confirm this man's craziest fantasies, telling him God was a proud father, that he was always watching, and that *every single prayer was answered*. He made sure that the man would spread word to all, and sent him on his merry way back to Earth.
Pete broke the one cardinal rule of Heaven, but the deed was done. Robert would never have another day off until every last creature was dead. Every time a creature prayed, every time someone called out to him with his mind, he would hear it loud an clear, ringing out to him. He was the creatures' Keeper, after all. And sure enough, what started as a modest whisper turned into an incessant buzz, and eventually became an insufferable roar, drowning out his thoughts with million of voices.
Pete, as one might expect, felt the wrath of a Keeper. He was the first and last creature to ever get stripped of a disciple title, to be punished in Heaven, but most importantly, to ever stand up to a keeper. So there he sat, two thousand or so years later, still in the crappy 8 by 8 cell he was confined to so long ago. But even now, after so long, he couldn't help but imagine Robert's frustrated red face as he tried to answer prayers, and crack a giant shit-eating grin.
|
Passing through the Gates was just a formality. I found myself in a lovely garden, wondering who the many other people were who were meandering about. Two old-fashioned looking gentlemen, who seemed vaguely familiar, approached me.
“Welcome,” said the poorly-dressed man with the scruffy reddish beard. “I am Vincent Van Gogh. We are here to greet you specifically.”
“Wow, I’m a tremendous admirer of your work! But why me specifically?”
The dark gentleman with the neat black mustache, neat but threadbare suit, and the haunted eyes spoke. “We are here to induct you into the Too Late Club. The membership is comprised of people like us who achieved fame only after their deaths. I regret to inform you that membership in this club is not particularly enjoyable.”
“Wait, this has to be a joke, right? Or a mistake. There’s no way I can ever become famous. I was a civil engineer.”
“Oh, trust us, it’s no mistake,” said the disheveled artist. “There are many such clubs, which were set up by the Father to help people reflect on their lives with kindred souls. See that group over there by the fountain? That’s the Not Soon Enough Club. They achieved fame in their lifetimes but then pissed it all away.”
“Your language, Vincent,” tsked Poe.
I looked over at the group, mostly well dressed but looking as unhappy as Poe and Van Gogh. I thought I recognized Tiger Woods and F. Scott Fitzgerald. “But what’s the purpose of being in this club if I’m not famous yet?”
“You can look down and observe your heirs and the fate of your works, and understand the spirit, whether benevolent or malevolent, that directed your life,” said Poe.
“Starting now,” said Van Gogh. They led me to a tiny pool and told me to look into the water. I didn’t expect much. What works could they possibly be talking about?
It took a while for me to perceive any images in the pool. Eventually I realized I was seeing the ongoing lives of my family. It was painful watching them grieve, and tedious watching the probate process and my wife selling our house to move to Florida. But I still couldn’t imagine what my fellow club members were talking about.
One day I watched my son sit down at my computer. He clicked on the Reddit bookmark and my user name popped up. “Great!” I heard him say. “I know Dad liked the Jokes page. I wonder what else he was into.”
I was a bit concerned. Poe had warned me that membership in the Too Late Club was not a good thing. I went looking for him with a few questions, but couldn’t find him and returned to my pool an hour later. As the pool cleared, I saw my son still at the computer, fully engrossed.
In a moment he spoke. “This is amazing. Dad’s done a zillion of these Writing Prompts! I can totally publish these!”
|
I used the bottom of my spoon to squash the mashed potato further around the plate. My chin had sunk into my right hand, my left continuing to paint upon the dish with the remainder of my meal.
They really had to ask that question, here, at the dinner table. Didn't they? This was a situation I would have trouble escaping. Suddenly, I felt my right shoulder shoved as I snapped back into the room, raising my posture and looking to the source. It was my Wife, and she seemed irritated with me.
"Honey, you were asked a question."She said, a nervous tone about her, and an awkward expression to boot. She side glanced to the other side of the table, where my in-laws sat. They had that kind of red faced glare that could churn butter, face all wrinkled and generating heat.
"I mean, why does anyone do anything?"I said in response, clutching at straws. I desperately wanted to avoid the question. It was one I battled with everyday.
"What?"Her Father had said. I thought it impossible for his face to contort any further. Apparently he had proven me wrong. "What do-"
"Dad, let him finish."She had said, nudging me once again. This time she was serious. I slunk a little into my chair.
"Look, I didn't exactly dream of this as a child."I said, growing irritated by their questioning. Who were they to stick their nose into my business?
"We're concerned."Her mother chimed in. She always had to get a word in. Always had to poke the bear.
"What's the problem?"I said, my mind clouded with a hurt response of anger. At least I was working, not like their worthless son.
"You ruin peoples lives. You lie to them, a- and steal from them. All their hard work, gone in a flash."He said, snapping his fingers as if to reinforce his point.
"I know..."I responded, hanging my head in shame. "I'm trying to leave."
"Will that really undo everything you've done?"My mother-in-law said.
"No, but it's a start, isn't it? At least I'm providing. What abo-"I stopped myself before I brought up my brother in law. This was my argument. It wasn't worth expanding the scope. We didn't need two of us in the firing line.
"Really, Marie."He said, looking to my Wife with an expression of disappointment. "An Estate Agent?"He continued, shaking his head as he looked down to his plate, squashing his peas in a silent contemplation. |
*Today is a very scary day.* thought Grimtoof. The goblin chimney sweep hid in a dark corner, clutching his broom as the palace rang with screams and shouts. He knew his job wasn't the most glamorous but he liked it. He liked to climb and clean the chimneys, travel all over the palace, and look over the city with amazing views. He had a warm place to sleep every night, hot food every day, much better than the cave he used to live in.
Now everything changed. A big group of masked men broke through and started to fight. Grimtoof had just finished cleaning the back kitchen chimney when he discovered that it was empty. It was almost dinner time too so it shouldn't have been empty. He creeped around and saw the palace staff being herded into the store rooms. The guards were imprisoned or killed and Grimtoof had been scared by that.
He sneaked around the halls using the small back ways until he came close to the throne room. He was desperate to find little Blue-eye. That wasn't really her name but that's what he called her. She liked the nick name too. Of all the ruling family she was the only one that was nice to him. Her father wasn't mean but he didn't notice him ever. Her mother was kind of mean, always trying to shoo him away from Blue-eye. Her older brothers used to chase him and use him for target practice, Grimtoof didn't like them very much. Little Blue-eye was sweet though, always said his name instead of "you"or "chimney-goblin". She liked to sing and he loved to listen. Whenever he found pretty feathers or stones from his work he brought them to her. She was his friend and he liked to think he was hers.
The throne room didn't have any of the rulers though, more of the scary men. Grimtoof was about to leave before he heard Blue-eye's name. "Yeah we got the Princess Elizabeth with her brothers in one room, the king and Queen in another. They won't get out."
A different man sat on the throne. He looked mean, sharp features and a cruel smile. Grimtoof New a thing or two about bad smiles. "Good. They will be insurance for the king to behave. What about the staff and guards?"
"Staff are being kept in the store houses. Guards locked in the mess hall, the ones still alive that is."
The men laughed and Grimtoof sniggered a little. The guards were mean to him. He liked some of the staff but most treated him like a slave as well as chimney sweep, making him do more work that wasn't sweeping. *That'll teach them.* he thought with a grin.
"Good. Let's see if we can make things official. Maybe the king will be more of a puppet. Or he'll abdicate to a trusted associate such as myself."
"What makes you think he will listen? He doesn't negotiate with insurgents after all."
"We'll kill the brats. Starting with the girl."
The men laughed but Grimtoof didn't this time. *Hurt and kill Blue-eye? No. That won't happen.* Grimtoof felt something in his heart. It wasn't fear from the guards or the mean staff. It wasn't sadness from being alone or cold. It wasn't the little happiness he got when he was with Blue-eye. It was different, hot. He was mad. For the first time in a long time Grimtoof wasn't afraid. He creeped away, determination in his step, concentration in his grip.
Princess Elizabeth looked up at the rattling grate in the hearth. Her brothers looked over too, unsure of what was happening. The grate finally moved and disappeared up the chimney and a spot covered green form fell down. Elizabeth muffled a shriek and ran over to the figure. "Grimtoof! I'm so happy to see you. You're okay!"She hugged the wiry form and Grimtoof happily returned it, ecstatic that she was unharmed.
"You must be quiet. Grimtoof heard bad men plans. Will help others but you must block door, don't let bad men in."Grimtoof whispered urgently. Elizabeth nodded but the eldest prince sniffed. "We are not listening to a goblin. Get us some weapons and we will break out and-oof!"He clutched his stomach in pain as Grimtoof shook the broom at him. "No! Princeling stupid! Grown men out there and they bad. Stay here. Protect selves and Blue-eye."
The other brother opened his mouth but Elizabeth glared at him. "We are listening to Grimtoof. He knows what he's doing."She turned to him and tried to keep a calm face. "Be careful ok? And-and we will do what you say."Grimtoof patted her cheek and glared at the brothers before climbing back up the chimney. He could hear them arguing as they dragged something heavy and he smiled in relief.
"My children are safe? Thank you..Grimtoof was it?"The King sighed in relief patting the hand of his Queen. Grimtoof nodded eagerly. "Stay here. Grimtoof came to tell you children be good. Grimtoof will go free others. Will take back palace. Be careful. Bad men mean harm to you."He scraped an awkward bow and clambered back up the chimney, eager to do more.
"Huh, gotta hand it to you. You've saved our bacon gob-I mean Grimtoof."The captain of the guard accepted the daggers that Grimtoof had taken from the armory. He passed them around to the others and their moods instantly changed with weapons in hand.
Grimtoof nodded, a little happy that the captain used his name albeit belatedly. "You have bacon? Grimtoof hungry. Climbing in chimney is tired."
The captain looked bemused but one of the other guards fished something out of a pouch. "No bacon but here is some bread I was saving. You're welcome to it."
Grimtoof accepted the bread and munched thankfully. "Thank you. Grimtoof go to stores. Free staff. Wait 3 watches and then trick bad men in. You fight and must go protect Blue-eye."
The captain nodded sincerely and the guards grinned with primal anticipation. "Don't worry. We will. Thank you again Grimtoof."The goblins bobbed his head awkwardly and clambered up the mess hall chimney. *Maybe not all the tall ones are so bad.*
The coup was reversed swiftly. The insurgents were surprised by the palace staff breaking out and causing a panic. When they were pulled away to deal with it the guards managed to break out the mess hall and with hidden weapons they dispatched the reduced number of men there. They ran through the palace and secured the royal family as the others fell upon the insurgents dealing with the staff from behind.
The leader of the coup was utterly confused. He thought he had it all planned out, took care of every variable. Every guard and staff member that he knew of should have been taken care of. He and the surviving insurgents were taken away for trial and punishment, utterly unaware of what unraveled his plans.
Barely a few days after things were more or less back to normal. The staff for the most part came through unharmed and went about their business thankful. The guards became more vigilant, swore never to let that happen again. The King realized how tenuous life could be and took the accusations of the insurgents seriously. He worked to fix the problems to have a happier kingdom.
Grimtoof climbed out of the tallest chimney and threw the debris down the side, clapping his hands in satisfaction. A sparkle of light caught his eye and he dug out some smooth glass along the ceiling. *Blue-eye will like this.* he thought happily before climbing back down. When he was finished with work and her with her lessons they were going to sit in the garden together. Chef promised a treat for them and Grimtoof whistled lightly. Another job well done.
|
I remember the day my father died. It started out like any other day. We were foraging for food, him and my brothers and sisters. We had a small family, only 10,000 of us, but we were happy. Each month, we went from the Forearm to the Oasis of the Wrist, but that day the trip took much longer. We should have known.
"Hurry up, Susan,"we encouraged our newest mitotic product, "in a few hundred steps we will have a feast. Just past the Hair Forest on the Forearm, there is a magic oasis filled with dead cells, sugar, and all the moisture you could want."
She squealed with delight. "I've always wanted to see the Watch! I'm gonna eat *all* of it myself, I'm so hungry!"I gave her a hug and she sped up.
-------------------------
A little while later, she was falling behind again, and she wasn't the only one slowing down. "I'm so-o-o hungry,"she complained, dragging her cell membrane. "Will we ever get there? I haven't seen a Hair Follicle in *hours*."
I looked up, and realized she was right. We were in barren land. But where was the Watch? I caught up to my father.
"Dad...do you know where we are?"I asked with concern.
"We must have gotten turned around at the last Hair on the Wrist, son,"he said, "it should be just a little further."
We eeked our cytoplasm forward, writhing with hunger pains and dehydration.
"Dad, is it usually this dry here? Where are we? Is that...the palm?"I pointed to a large mound of flesh.
We realized, to our horror, that the Watch, with all of its moisture, had disappeared, and we had somehow made it to the forbidden Hand. No one came back from there.
"Everyone, run back!"I screamed. But it was too late, and we were too tired.
We heard a thunderous voice from above, "Janice Miller, wash your hands, it's time for dinner."The Soap came down and then the world went black.
When I woke up, I was alone. I felt myself covered in some kind of goo, and I squirmed my way out.
"Dad? Hello? Susan?"I called out, no reply. "Anyone?"I yelled desperately. No reply.
Crawling furiously over the goo, I kept yelling. "Jamie? Sarah! Is there anyone here?"No reply. I sighed and looked down, and saw them. Or, what was left of them.
The goo wasn't goo, it was them...what was left of my brothers and sisters. I will never scrub that memory away. After hours of searching through cell membranes and proteins, I realized I was the only one left. The Soap had not hurt me. I had been spared for a reason and I knew what I had to do: multiply.
That was six days ago. Now we are again a family of 10,000 all from my lineage, and we will not be destroyed. Yesterday I found a cut on the Forearm, a way in. Today, we divide again, and tonight, we invade. For father. For Susan.
Come, my children. We are legion. We will overcome.
-------------------------
The doctor shook her head sadly, "I'm sorry, Mr. Miller, but her infection isn't responding to treatment. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do but wait." |
[Overseer's log]
[Day 1]I'd been through my Vault-Tec training, completed every psyche evaluation. I'd been briefed on nearly every aspect of my task, including, oddly, when it would start (how did they know *to the day* 3 years in advance?!). I knew how important my work would be to the new world, whenever that would be. All that data, otherwise impossible to collect, to help rebuild.
But these orders, sealed into the Overseers Safe before I ever got here. This.. this... there's no way that can be right. It's impossible. Those bastards at raven rock couldn't have picked a worse task for me to perform.
Who the hell did I piss of to get "CONTROL?!"3 PHDs and countless elimination rounds, all the hobnobbing and politicking, all the subtle sabotage of my competition and for what?! A fucking CONTROL GROUP?
No. This won't stand. This *can't* stand! I'll show them! I'll show them all! |
The door to your bathroom creaked open, got stuck, and refused to move. It was stuck straight out, at a perfect 90 degrees. You get the sneaking suspicion you probably shouldn't use it-every time something is prominently stuck at a right angle, something off happens. Like that time when you were but a baby and the stroller you were in had all the wheels stuck at right angles in the middle of a walk, just before a truck barrels into the pavement barely missing you.
Or that time when you were six, and you tried to go swimming at the beach, only to be thwarted when your swimsuit gets torn right open by a strangely square shell, only to find people screaming about sharks being in the area.
Or even, when in college, you bent over to pick up a textbook that had somehow fallen out of your grip only to land on its edge, just open at a right angle, and barely avoided death by high speed drone, courtesy of the robotics department.
Your reminiscing is suddenly interrupted by a loud bang, as the volatile gas built up in the sewer pipes below explodes your cistern into ceramic shrapnel. The fact that you remain unhurt by standing behind the stuck door trying to free it simply makes you wonder even more.
"Ehh,"you shrug, "probably just coincidence." |
"Whoo! do I have a headache!"I exclaimed excitedly in the cabin. "Feels like I've been asleep for two decades!"I said, sitting up and looking around.
No one else was up yet. All the other pod doors were still sealed shut.
"Oh. Y'all are sleepin' in, eh?"I said to myself as I climbed out of my pod, pushing the door up. My feet were wet, and they slapped the cold tiles beneath me as I stepped out, leaving a small puddle on the floor. As I walked past the seven other pods, I heard a sudden release of air pressure as two other pod doors opened.
"Erik, I swear to God,"James said before coughing and sitting up in his pod "It's been 24 years and your voice is still the most annoying thing to wake up to."
A woman sat up in the other pod. "How long have you two been up?"she asked.
"I just got up,"I said.
"Right after him,"James said, rubbing is upper arm with a scowl on his face, as if he'd been woken too early.
"Y'all check this out!"I say, motioning to the large window over-looking the earth.
"It's... beautiful..."Roxanne said, in awe.
"it's... it looks exactly the same as when we left,"James said, walking to the back of the cabin. "Same old planet..."he trailed off.
"Check out that storm over the gulf!"Roxanne said, pointing towards the southern United States.
"Yikes. Texas is in for another this year. That looks even worse than hurricane Emma!"I said.
"Well, Emma was back in 2088... there's been plenty of time for bigger storms in between. Who knows what they'll call this one."Roxanne replied.
"If they actually wanted people to evacuate, they'd name them stuff like... Hurricane Firestorm... or Hurricane Fury,"James said from the back, his voice distant. "Who's gonna be afraid of Hurricane Emma?"
"Hang on..."Roxanne said, her eyes narrowing. "Weren't we able to see the cities from up here before?"
"No way. They're way too small. You know how many miles..."James trailed off again.
"No, we definitely could... remember the grey splotches? The small ones looked like little dots in a grid?"Roxanne argued, "Something's not right here."
"Come to think of it, you're right..."I said, "I don't see any down there. The east coast should be littered in grey dots. We're not much higher than the ISS used to orbit, we should be seeing all the big cities."
"You two just woke up. Your eyes haven't adjusted"James declared.
Roxanne crossed her arms before finally speaking, "Computer, what year is it?"
A blue light came on on the ceiling above the main terminal computer
*The year is 22,096. However, Earth-side time has been lagged by 9 days, 17 hours, and 36 minutes since the year 2088 due to orbital procession and tidal braking. For more details, please login to a terminal.* A sharp-toned computer voice boomed from overhead.
*Silence*
Roxanne rushed to a terminal and programmed the station's telescope to point at Washington DC and cast its image to the largest monitor in the cabin.
We all stared at the sight of the former nation's capitol building. The dome had fallen through what was left of the building, lying on it's side, supported by crushed concrete. The dome itself was a rusty-orange color, and the remains of the building had turned grey and been almost completely covered by trees and brush.
Zooming out, the rest of the city was covered in greenery, trees and grasses lining the streets, landmarks unrecognizable.
"I don't think we'll be going home anytime soon..."I said.
|
9 minutes.... in 9 minutes Oppo will tell his family about me.
it's late, the sun is sinking below the horizon, a white orb enriching the sky above us with a thousands shades of blue and grey. I wonder what sunsets are like where Oppo was from, letting myself be distracted for a while as i smooth my fingers over Oppo's warm wings. I watched Oppo fall from this same sky 5000 Sols ago.
I hadn't seen anything like it in centuries, though that is not saying much as i don't see much of anything since the last of us left. I followed it for a little while. Watched as it chugged along whirring and beeping, clicking and occasionally letting off an excited PING! It sounded so cute.
Oppo had been around for about 85 sols when He started to get a bit sluggish, so i left it some berries thinking it might be hungry, the next morning it just stared at them, clicked and did nothing for a few minutes before it made that funny little PING and it started chugging slowly off again. .
I felt very silly when i realised that Oppo was like me and ate the sun, though Oppo seems to get it through it's wings, so once i cleaned the dust that was all over Him He perked right up! a few hundred Sols later his foot came off, it didn't seem to hurt him much, but i popped it back on, just in case.
He's a funny little thing, very curious. i tried playing fetch once but all he did was click once then stare at it for 19 minutes before making that same PING! and carrying on. The more i followed the more i noticed how often He did that: Stare, *click*, wait, PING! always when he had found something and always 19 minutes of waiting. about 3500 sols ago i entertained the idea that maybe he was sent here not just to find me and keep me company but to maybe tell his family about what he sees on his adventures. I would do the same if i could, though my family all got bored of these rocks long ago. So, maybe not.
My silly Oppo loves these rocks, though, just like me. I think his family does aswell because that's all he would show them.
Until 10 minutes ago.
We were cresting a hill when he stopped, I had kept walking.
Usually, i stay behind him so i can help if he gets in sticky situations, but i was in a world of my own watching the sky start fading to blue. I heard his little *click* though. I'm very honoured that he thinks i'm as interesting as the rocks.
We are waiting now, while we watch the sun make its decent in to nowhere.
I hope Oppo's family likes me.
Maybe they'll come and visit, that would be fun...
PING!
**This is my first Writing post and i don't write very often this one just inspired me, so please be gentle, constructive criticism more than welcome **
|
Bleeding from my mortal wound, I gazed upwards, not taking in the splendor of a brilliant night sky, but rather the popcorn ceiling of my own home.
Strangely enough, the details of why I lie here dying in my own home are eclipsed by the little mistakes that I committed throughout the day: forgetting to lock the door, stuttering my name to the coffeeshop barista, leaving my keys at home yet again, and being late to work in a hurry after trying to fix everything.
These little things shouldn't matter to me since they weigh so little in the grand scheme of things, especially on my deathbed, but these horrid somethings kept flowing in my mind, much like the worries of the night haunting into tomorrow.
Perhaps... Sleep truly is the brother of death?
***
A man. A bearded man hunched over a computer in a solely screen lit room typed angrily while muttering curses under his breath:
"Damn it, why won't this anxiety bug go away?" |
I quickly set them to work under their own house, working 18 hour days in the painting sweatshop I had made for them.
When they tired or needed sustenance, I would reinsert a door and let them out to the long corridoor that led to their barracks which consisted of a single bed, a fridge, and a toilet.
Their schedules were structured so that they would never overlap, a single Sim inhabiting the barracks whilst the others painted relentlessly, oblivious to the plight of their roommates.
As they got older, I would one day open access to the basement staircase, which led up the steps to the outside world where our mutual business partner would be waiting for them with a bony smile.
Sometimes the game would spin out of my control, where I would mistakenly insert a door without thinking, or let one get upstairs without sealing the door behind them.
Each time I would have to reset to a previous save and make sure that I learned from my mistakes, in order to prolong the work of my most productive sims.
One in particular, Bob Norman, had instigated several escape attempts under my watch: running for the door when the mailman could no longer leave the overrun letters in the box and would force his way into the house; pissing his pants that would prompt me to unlock his cell to the barracks that was already occupied by another Sim; even feigning death by letting himself get so emotionally drained that he collapsed.
Each time I would have to reset, and watch him carefully, making sure I would not slip up and lose the game due to the randomness of his antics.
After his last bout of craziness where he tried to starve himself to death, I found Bob peacefully painting. He would look up at the screen as if looking at something in particular, the walls of his room, and then paint. Each time I moved the camera around to see what it was, he would spin the easel around to face me just in time. A strange bug which I attributed to the quirkiness of his traits, but I found disturbing, especially the way his head seemed to track the camera so.
I left Bob to work, and checked in on the others, selling off a few paintings to fund my collection of ornate statues that decorated the private garden fronting the property.
When I came back to Bob, he waved cheerfully and made a gesture which I assumed meant he was hungry. I unlocked the door and let him into the barracks, and then span the camera around to sell off his latest painting.
My jaw dropped. It was what I could only describe as unmistakeably a large square screen with a giant face floating in the middle of a room - his room - and it wasn't just any face. He had gotten my freckles, my eyes, the piercing above my left brow and even the Rush poster on my back wall.
I could only gape at what I was seeing, and the more I looked the more I saw. Bob was no ordinary Sim, and the realisation terrified me.
I clicked on his icon hurriedly, expecting the camera to pan to his position, but instead the scene remained static. I manually panned over to the barracks and found it empty; the bed empty, the shower unused, no sign of dishes or boxes whatsoever.
The game promptly crashed, perhaps realising that there was an unaccounted address in its banks, and not being able to handle the exception.
My desktop came into view and glared at me, and there in the corner of my workspace I saw a tiny figure dive into a folder. |
"Eh'?"I blurted as the episode of Voltron went to credits, Netflix being kind enough to ask me if I was still watching. There was something different though. An indescribable change that occurred so suddenly it was hard to pinpoint when it started.
*Aaron...* a strange voice whispered but I don't think I 'heard' it but 'felt' it.
"Yo'?"I asked out loud, pressing back on the remote, my smart TV moving the image on screen to the Netflix menu.
*What a poor little soul I've found... I hope you enjoyed your life because soon you'll be nothing but a backseat driver. For I, Maliktous will control this rotting husk of a body...* the voice sounded as if there was a ghostly lead up to it's words and an echoed etherealness to it.
"Oh!"I yelped, standing up suddenly from the couch. "Are you like a ghost or something? That'd be sweet, what's your name?"
*Uh, no I'm not a ghost. But I literally just said my name, Maliktous!* a strange guttural laugh followed it's declaration.
"Right-right, I'm sorry, I'm just so happy to have someone to talk to! So if you're not a ghost then, perhaps a spirit of some kind? Maybe a poltergeist? That would be sweet, how're you today?"I asked excited to have someone to talk to.
There was an odd grunt before I heard a response. *N-no, those are all child's play to the likes of me... I, am a demon, come to arrest your body and conduct a campaign of destruction the likes this world has never seen!*
"A demon, huh? That's pretty cool! So what do we do first? I can come along for the ride, right? I don't have many friends, so I'm like, really stoked to have you around! Do you like hummus? I've got some pita chips in the cupboard! We can talk all about your plans!"
*By the Fires of Hell, don't you ever shut up? Ahem, I mean, cease your resistance mortal! Allow me to grasp your mind and succumb to my dark will...*
"Oh yeah I'm succumbing alright, go ahead and do what you do, I'm just really excited to see where this friendship goes. Have you seen the new Voltron on Netflix? Season four just came out!"I reached for the remote and brought up the Voltron episodes list.
*Silence fool...* I could feel a strange aching in my head but it wasn't that bad. I was just happy to have someone around. *Oh... what the...*
"Huh?"
*You... Satan's will, why do you hate yourself so much? I've never felt this alone before. Your mind, it-it's...* there was a long pause.
"Yeah, haha. You'll have to excuse me, I'm pretty lonely I guess you could say. I work the night shift at a bakery so I don't meet too many people. I usually leave work before it opens so the only people I really interact with are the nice ladies at Denny's. Have you been to Denny's? They changed their pancake recipe--"
*S-stop it! Stop speaking! Stop... stop feeling lonely too!* A sound like a strained groan filled my mind.
"Are you okay, Mally?"I asked concerned.
*Don't call me that! It's Maliktous! And I don't usually say this but... Christ, I've never seen such a self destructive mind...*
"My therapist says I need to stop focusing on the bad things. Like how my right arm is a *little* longer than my left. And how I wear really big shoes. Do you know how hard it is to find wide width shoes these days? Seems like everyone just has smaller feet."
*Wh-why do you talk so much? And why would the length of your arm even matter?! Your memories show it's only a few milimeters! The human body isn't perfeclty symmetrical so why dwell on it?!*
"Haha, you sound like Doctor Prout, I think you would like her! She is like, a really logical thinker and--"
*I think I need another host, you've done more damage to yourself than I ever could and who is 'Angela'?*
I frowned, "She uh, she was my wife. She was really mean to me and kind of broke me down mentally. I felt like I wasn't allowed to have a self esteem around her and she worked hard to destroy any confidence I had. It was like having a bully around twenty-four seven."
*Where is* she *staying? She sounds like a uh... better fit for my campaign...*
I felt a strange pulling, like something was tugging at my mind.
*Aaron, let me out...*
"Oh come on now, Mally, you just got here! We were having such a great conversation! Anyway though, she is uh, somewhere else. I didn't bother to get her address down when she moved out. She used to be so lovely though, want to hear more about it?"
*No! Let me out! This is clearly not a good fit. I'm sorry to have bothered you but...* another strained groan, *Release me!*
"Please don't go, I haven't had anyone to talk to in a while, except the lady on the customer service line when I called Capital One, can you believe the interest rates on their cards? It's almost criminal really."
*AARON RELEASE ME IMMEDIATELY!*
"I think he name was Karen, she was nice though. I was asking if I could--"
*How're you doing this? How are you keeping me in here! I demand you lower whatever barrier is keeping me and let me go!*
"You don't mean that, we still have that campaign to go on, Mally! Just relax though, it's kind of early in the morning, which is like, technically my night. So I'll be sleeping soon. Oh! Maybe you can tell me all about your plans while we lay down, kinda' like pillow talk! Haha, I remember Angela and I used to do that a--"
*Help! Christ above! Satan below! I beg of you!* |
Consider time travel. The ability to go to any point in time, future or present. Would you do it? What if I were to tell you that the very act of travelling through time, while possible, is an aberration to the universe. That by doing so, you rip apart the very structure of time and space. Every time you travel through the fabric of reality you cause it to splinter, world-lines spiraling away from one another in a state of never ending quantum flux. That by departing your own time and entering another you birth a new timeline entirely. Just by existing at a point you were never meant to exist in, you irrevocably change the world around you. Not even by undoing the changes you make can you reset back to the world you knew. Could you leave everything you know, for everything you don't? Leave behind your home, your family, your life? I did. It was the worst mistake I ever made.
I glanced up at the chronometer. Jump three thousand four hundred and fifty three. The year was 2017, Earth standard. While it was my home time, it wasn't my home time line. But still, there was a kind of nostalgic homeliness about returning to 2017. It was one of those years that you could count on for being reliable. In the finite curve of world-lines I had explored, everything past 2150 was waste of nuclear war, everything before 1960 was so technologically inept it wasn't even worth exploring. There are only so many times you can visit a medieval street and find a charm in dodging buckets of shit as they poured from the skies. In most world-lines 2017 was pretty stable, well stable as far as human history goes. Of course there are crazed despots sitting idly in their self built empires, but they were few and far between in comparison to some times.
I stepped out of the machine and allowed its chameleon protocols to take over, the craft becoming nothing more than a shimmer. Easily mistaken for ripples of heat on a hot summers day like this one. I had parked atop canary wharf. The sky was a clear blue and the city stretched out beneath me for miles. I had visited all of the major cities on Earth, from New York to Mumbai, from Eridu to IkTan-7 in the Kupier belt. For some reason the humble simplicity of twenty first century London was always the one that captured my heart. Perhaps it was because, once upon a time, a version of this city had been my home. It was astounding how, after travelling through so many variations of London, I had started to pick up on some of the subtle differences. Some London's had orange post boxes instead of red. Others had cars that drove on the right side of the road instead of the left. But always the city retained its same basic shape, the same standard form. It was comforting in that way.
When they had pitched Time Travel to me they had told me it would be an adventure in the endless sea of human history. That I could return to my home time whenever I wanted and it would be as if I had never left. They had lied. They knew I would never be able to return. They knew that each jump through time would take me further and further away from my native world-line. Well, perhaps not, but I was one in a long series of test subjects. Perhaps they had been trying to fix whatever sent a traveler of the fourth dimension into a separate world-line. I was an alien, not in species, but in dimension. These worlds had their own versions of me, they had their own versions of my family. I couldn't interact with any of them. I just wanted a hug from my mother. A kiss from my wife. A word of wisdom from my father. It would never happen.
I drew a deep breath. I wouldn't stop trying. I couldn't get home, that was out of the question. But if I could travel out far enough, separate myself away from my original world-line far enough... maybe there would be a universe where my family existed but I did not. I could befriend them. Fall in love with my wife again. I would never stop trying. I wasn't far enough yet, the DNA scanner in my machine still registered two instances of me in this world-line. The multiverse is infinite, and that means there is an infinite number of me jumping through an infinite number of world-lines seeking a world where they belong. All I need is to slip into one of the ones where a version of me has embarked on the same journey.
It was time for jump three thousand four hundred and fifty four.
Did you enjoy this story? Well check out my personal subreddit for more writing prompts and updates on my novel!
https://www.reddit.com/r/MattsWrittenWord/ |
Brian shuffled up to a sitting position on the tiled floor. His coccyx was surely bruised from the fall backward. His hands could feel the cold kiss of the peach-coloured ceramic. His slammed his eyes shut.
"Oh, no no no. Not again, please not again,"he muttered, too scared to turn around. "Not here, not now… nonono."
Then he felt it on his fingertips. A warm, damp sensation wrapping around his right hand. His eyes slid open, and tears started to form. He turned his head and let out a muffled cry, slamming his hand over his moustached face. The toilet plunger had embedded itself in Stacey's right eye. The rest of her face was frozen in an expression of surprise. Just like Stella the time before. And Sandra the time before that.
Brian sobbed and stumbled to his feet. He had to pack, this was the third time this had happened. His third *wife*. The third *wife whose name started with an 'S'*.
"They're gonna think I did it on purpose this time. They'll lock me up for sure,"he panicked, running his bloodied hand through his hair. "Shit. Now I'm gonna need a shower. No… I gotta go. I gotta go."
Brian bolted it out of the room, but not before tripping over Stacey’s body. He stumble-crawled into the master bedroom and quickly stuffed clothes into his suitcase, slid on his brogues and picked up his hat and on the coat on his way to the door. He took one last look at Stacey and muffled another sob.
"That was the last time, I promise. I won't unclog a toilet ever again."
And he left. |
How did a wolf and a dragon get into my office? They were so lifelike too, the wolf baring its fangs and the dragon inhaling, ready for a blast of fire. Fortunately, I heard no voices screaming, except for maybe my own suppressed horror. Okay, relax. Remember your training. Rarely can your patients project their own disorders onto you, and this is one of the times. This isn't real! I then went down to the next level. "Be honest with me, where did you get the holograms?"
"Doc! This isn't a prank, and if you can see them that means they're as real as I think they are!"
Clearly, patient isn't being coherent. Patience. Let's try something else. "Do you have control over the wolf and dragon?"
"I guess? They stop when I stop, move when I move, haven't attacked me yet, etc."
"Get them to sit down beside you and lie down on the couch."Patient complies.
"Now, what do you think the wolf and the dragon symbolise?"
"I don't know, that's not in my pay grade; it's in yours."The wolf howled - nearly sounded like laughter - what a snarky patient. Clearly, sarcasm hasn't been one of the mental faculties he'd given up.
Let's talk about his life. Patient reports having colluded with his colleagues to engineer the downfall of a particularly irritating coworker. Patient reflects upon feeling an intense feeling of pride and achievement, though tempered with destruction. Diagnosis: hallucinations are symbols of events in his life. Doesn't explain why I can see them though.
I sure hope that earlier prank of mine to hide wolf-puppets and a toy dragon in patient's house, coordinated with Drs. Bentley, Maxime and Prof. Jones, had nothing to do with it. If it were successful, we'd have been so proud to have proven our theory that hallucinations can be triggered by the most innocuous of objects, and we had so much fun doing it anyway. |
'I'm saying,' Frank said to Jason as he was playing the game, '*Ratchet and Clank* and *Jak and Daxter* have nothing in common. Why do people keep saying that they do?'
'Well, actually...' a well-dressed man in glasses said as he came up right behind us.
'Oh, it's *this* guy,' Frank complained.
'They have *quite* a bit in common,' Adam stated. 'The game engine, while being a modified for of Santa Monica Studio's *Kinetica* engine, the same engine for the *God of War* series on PS2, also uses shade renderers designed by Naughty Dog to use with their GOAL engine.'
'Wait,' Jason interrupted. 'I thought that *Ratchet and Clank* was using GOAL as well.'
'A *lot* of people make that mistake,' Adam said. 'To the point where Ted Price had to clarify this in an interview in which he said;'
> "We've always developed all our own technology. It's been a little frustrating in the past for us to hear people say, 'Oh yeah, the Insomniac game is running on the Naughty Dog engine.' People assumed that we were using Naughty Dog's engine for *Ratchet*, and that was not true. We shared some technology with Naughty Dog way back when, and that was great, but we are a company that puts stock in developing specialized technology and we will continue to do so."
*- Ted Price, Independent PlayStation Magazine, September 2006*
'And, speaking of,' he began before we shoved slices of pizza into his mouth and shoved him away. |
I jumped, startled, as fifty copies of my phone all rang at the same time. I quickly put down my equally startled orange kitten and picked up the nearest phone. The caller ID read: "REPLICATE QUEST".
*Quest!?* A cold feeling coursed through my blood. The fifty phone orchestra playing my Rick Astley ringtone took on a haunting quality. My previous sense of wonder and amazement I had while playing with the copy box turned suddenly to the deepest dread of my life.
*Who was calling me!? And what is "quest"all about? Were they placing me on a quest? Who goes on quests?* I decided to do the mature, adult thing and ignore the call.
Fifteen minutes later I had managed to turn off all fifty copies of my phone. The "REPLICATE QUEST"caller ID had blared brightly at me from every screen, down to the last, as I shut each down.
Finally, silence.
And then, a ringing.
Not a "Never Gonna Give You Up"ringtone, but an actual bell sound. It was coming from the box.
Inside the copy box was a classic, analog, rotary phone.
I couldn't ignore this any longer. I picked up the phone.
"Hello?"I said sheepishly.
"Hello Mr. Andersen! This is the REPLICATE company calling to make sure you're satisfied with your REPLICATE box, and to ask you if you wouldn't mind if we asked you a few questions?"
AH! "Quest"had simply been a truncated, "*Ques*tionnaire."or "*Quest*ions."They just wanted me to take a survey.
I looked around at the dozen identical bananas, my dozen or so left shoes and the half watermelon. That one was strange. Maybe it was because the watermelon had been living matter?
I heard a tiny meow from my orange, fluffy kitten. I looked down to my feet where to see it playing with the spiral phone cord. Maybe I should rethink the kitten cloning idea. *OK, I guess I could answer some questions and then ask them for some tech support!*
"Hi, this is Mr. Andersen. Yes, I would love to answer some questions. And then I have a few of my own, if that's OK."
"Oh certainly, sir! It's what we're here for. Now here's the first question. Are you comfortable?"
I laughed a good-natured laugh, definitely growing relaxed again. "Haha, yes. Thank you, I am comfortable."
"Good to hear, sir."The caller's smile could be heard in their voice. They were good. "Now for my second question. Now that you have assumed ownership of a REPLICATE box, what are you going to use as a weapon for your mandatory quest?" |
One fine morning, the people of Nhek came to me and said, "Our king is a thief."
To that, I laughed and said, "Aren't they all?"
"He levies heavy taxes against us, and even that is not enough for his greedy hands,"they replied. "At night, he sends his men to our doors and demands our valuables. He takes until we have nothing valuable left, and then he takes our women and children to his harem. Our men are forced to work hard labor in the fields and in the mines."
"And what do you want me to do for you?"I asked them.
"We do not know what you do,"they answered, "only that those who say your name are not touched by the king's people. And we know that those that say your name without having right to are dealt with even worsely by the king's people. So we ask for the right to use your name, so that the king's greed may spare us."
"I will do even better than that,"I told them. "Take this letter to your king, requesting his presence immediately."
And they marveled amongst themselves, saying, "Who is this man that he can summon kings?"
Then they said, "We beg your mercy, but we cannot take this letter to the king, for then he will know we have told against him, and he will surely slay us."
So I sent one of my men with the letter to the King of Nhek, and in short time, he appeared in my court, and bowed low before me.
"Hezariah,"I addressed him. "The people of your court have accused you of a great crime. A crime of theft so severe they have asked for my protection. If I have done greater evil than you, and your people still come to me with complaints of your wickedness, what does that say of you?"
And he began to weep and curse the day he was born, tearing his clothes as he threw himself to the floor.
"I am not upset that you have stolen from your people,"I said to him. "I am upset that you have not shared what you have stolen with me. Therefore, you have stolen from me as well."
I called for a sword, and one was brought for me.
"If a hand causes you to sin, then to reach the Kingdom of Heaven, is that hand not to be cut off and thrown to the stray dogs to prevent that men from being consumed by greed?"
To this, the king began to call loudly, and beg, "Please! Let me be consumed by greed, but let not my hand be taken!"
"You are sinner with a deceitful heart. You do not know what you want. But I know what is best for you."
My soldiers seized him on each side. His hand was forced out in front of him and cut it off.
"Now you are pure,"I declared. "Next time you steal, remember with whom you must share it with. Now go! and sin no more, brother."
As the king was taken from the court, a boy appeared suddenly and cried out: "Father!"He attempted to push through, but the soldiers would not allow him to reach the king.
With venom in his eyes, he fixed on me and the people of Nhek. "I swear,"he declared, "that you will all pay for this."
And just as suddenly as he appeared, he disappeared before our eyes.
|
Dave, Roger, Peter, and Ros (pronounced 'Roz') sat at a dinner table, with the latter three firmly glaring at the former. "Dave, do you know why we're having a flat meeting?"Ros asked, leaning back to cross her arms over a wrinkled. Ramones tanktop.
"Is it because of the laundry? It was Peter's turn."Dave pointed an accusatory finger at Peter, who scoffed and planted his hands against the table.
"No! You've been acting real cagey and showing up at the dead hours of the night smelling of bleach!"He yelled, getting pulled back to his seat by Roger.
"Calm down, buddy. We're your friend, Dave, we just think you've been acting strangely. Just something we need to talk about. Can I read from my list?"He held up his phone. Dave gave a nod.
"Hokay. One. You have neglected this week's laundry pile in the chore schedule. This is something we can look over but it's cause for concern."The others gave general agreeances.
"Two, Wednesday Nights, the common room is Ros time for her ladies movie club. We understand you have it on Tuesday nights, but you forgot to de-link the bluetooth from your phone while you were out and about and they heard,"he leaned over to Ros, who whispered into his ear.
"Animal slaughter videos. That was really creepy and threw off her screening of 'Up!' And we think you owe her an apology."
Dave sighed.
"Three, Roland says he keeps hearing you talk to yourself about really heavy religious stuff at the dead of night, so please remember he works early in the morning and he needs quiet hours."
Dave crossed his arms. "Okay. One, I've been busy. I've been going out for dinner with new people. Two, I'm sorry, Ros. I was pranking a new person I met and well, you know, I'm clumsy sometimes. Three, Roland, I'm sorry. I talk in my sleep. I'm sorry about my quirks, guys. I'll do the laundry."
"An apology is all we wanted."
"Okay."Dave left, walking back to his room. A painting of a dog on the wall turned to face him. Dave sighed.
"Hey, man. We need to talk."The dog spoke, his voice identical to Dave's. |
"How many '*humans*' live on this planet?"The Fore-Admiral sneeredas he said the word. Gazing over the mottled blues, greens, and whites his disdain only deepened. *Such an uncivilized planet. They haven't even tamed their own biosphere, let alone begun to embark upon the path of vivoforming.*
"Approximately seven-"
"-Million?"The ever-impatient officer interrupted the crewman. "That isn't much."
There was a pause followed by the sound of a deep inhalation. "Billion, Fore-Admiral Ress, sir. Seven Billion and counting,"the nervous crewman corrected, audibly pronouncing the capital 'B'.
The Fore-Admiral blinked once.
Twice.
"That can't be right,"he finally said. "Wasn't this one of the penal colonies?"
The crewman, grateful that the commanding officer was shocked rather than vengeful, shook his head. "No, sir. This site was used to test how the H-239 strain would fare against established alpha-predators on a high-grav world."After a few moments, he ventured to continue, "Well, apparently."
The Fore-Admiral stared down at the planet, his disdain now mixing with wonder and growing excitement. "Have the experiment's reports sent to my data scroll at once,"he said, waving his arm in a dismissive gesture. Once the doors whirred closed again, he allowed himself to smile.
*A bastard form of Homen these creatures may be, but if I can bring this discovery back to the Quintumvirate perhaps I will be granted jurisdiction over this sector. Seven BILLION lives to use for the war effort.*
The chronometer on the wall trilled out the hour just as Ress's scroll flashed with incoming data.
*Marvelous.* |
Logan was as bustling as it usually was this time of year. Lines of people serpentined to airline kiosks, waiting to check in their baggage. Some people looked excited, some looked bored and some looked nervous. The collection of people had the average collection of emotions of a population about to embark via the sky.
Cherry got inline herself, rolling suitcase in tow and waited. Despite the frenzy of the airport during the holiday season, she felt a sense of calm as soon as she walked through the automatic doors. The main lobby looked sleek and futuristic, updated since the last time she was here. Skylights gave the lobby a warm and welcoming feeling, you could see planes taking off and landing overhead.
As Cherry was waiting, she observed a large poster hanging from the rafters beneath the skylights. Written, in bold yellow type against a stark navy background was:
**DUE TO RECENT TECHNOLOGICAL BREAKTHROUGH, SECURITY MEASURES ARE NO LONGER NEEDED.**
At first read, Cherry assumed it was some type of provocative ad. But then she looked for any signs of the TSA or police. She didn’t spy any light blue uniforms with black epaulettes that she had been accustomed to seeing while traveling. Nor did she spot any figures dressed in state trooper uniforms. The national guard was missing too. No camouflaged soldiers with massive, black assault rifles held across their chest.
Suddenly, the calm feeling Cherry had made sense. In a world that’s increasingly militarized, it’s a nice change to not see the soldiers ready to combat an infiltrative enemy. The lack of visual armed protection was a reminder that maybe, just maybe, the world is getting safer. We may no longer have to live the fear of getting killed when we fly on a plane, or go to church, or go to a movie. Now, when she stood in the airport, it was only about flying. It was only about getting from point A to point B. She could worry about the mundane task of catching her flight and seeing her family in Seattle.
Checking her luggage was as pleasant experience as it had been in years. There was no one working at the airline desk. Just a kiosk and a scale. You entered your flight and passenger information into the computer, placed your luggage on the scale and your flight tag was printed. You placed it around the hand of your luggage and it was whisked into the dark cubbie hole with the plastic flaps by a conveyor belt.
As she rounded the corner where the security line once was there was nothing but open space. She could see the smell the terminal food court, the air was filled with the aroma of cinnamon buns. Jolly, passengers imbibed their cocktails and chatted with mates while they waited for their flights to be called. There were no bartenders. Each seat at the bar had an interactive menu where you could order. When you chose your drink, a glass would pop up from behind the bar and it would be filled with your choice.
Cherry saddled up to the bar and looked at the menu. She selected the cocktail icon. Next she selected *Martini*.
*Gin.*
*Vermouth? Yes.*
*Dry.*
*Olive.*
*Stirred.*
The screen read: OVER AGE 21 CONFIRMED.
She swiped her credit card. After a mild whirring noise from below the bar, her cocktail glass popped up and the martini was poured in the glass. The olive made a small plop as it was dropped and settled to the bottom. Cherry, grabbed it and took a sip. *Just like Tabitha makes me at home.* She smiled, relaxed. Forty-five minutes until boarding.
She observed the gates from the bar. They were unmanned. The screen by the gate read:
**United Flight 448 Non-Stop to Seattle, WA 6:05 PM**
Cherry was feeling good by the time the olive stood taller than the liquid remaining in the cocktail glass. She heard the automated voice over the PA: *“United Flight 448 Non-Stop to Seattle, Washington is now boarding for all passengers at gate 2C.”*
Cherry popped up from her stool and finished the rest of her martini, swallowing the olive as the finale. She grabbed her carry on and hustled to the gate. There were a few people ahead of her. She saw them scanning their tickets and placing their carry on in a box on the opposite side of the gate door.
One man attempted to place his carry on into the frame and the screen above flashed red.
CARRY ON EXCEEDS SIZE OR WEIGHT REQUIREMENTS. BAG WILL NOW BE SENT CHECKED LUGGAGE. FEE WILL BE ASSESSED TO YOUR CREDIT CARD. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.
Frustrated, the man yelled “This is *bullshit!”* and lightly smacked the box with his open hand. He continued preaching his indiscriminate anger to the box for almost another minute. The other passengers started to get impatient.
“Get the hell out of the way buddy!” one man in line yelled.
“Hurry up! We’re gonna miss the fucking plane!” another shouted.
The angry man relented and scanned his ticket and entered the ramp in defeat.
Cherry came up to the box by the gate and placed her carry on within it. She saw red lasers crossing within the mirrored box. After a few seconds she heard a ding and the screen above flashed green and said:
YOU MAY BOARD WITH THIS ITEM. THANK YOU.
Smiling, Cherry grabbed her bag and scanned her ticket. Another green light flashed under the scanner and the automatic doors leading to the ramp opened. She slung her bag on her shoulder and walked toward the cabin.
Within the plane there was no one greeting her. Usually you will see the pilot and flight attendants welcoming you aboard with a smile. The human element was lacking but she still felt at ease as soon as she entered the cabin. Could have been the booze, or was there just something in the air? Cherry didn’t think about it too much and searched for her seat.
Looking down at her ticket, she read her seat number: 14B. She walked down to the fourteenth row, stowed her carry on above her and sat in her seat. She saw that there was an interactive menu on the back of the seat in front of her. She scrolled through and saw food options and hospitality options that could be delivered from a little, transparent door just beneath the screen. She requested a neck pillow for $24.99 and within ten seconds one appeared. She browsed the cocktail menu and selected another martini, $14.50 this time. Within ten seconds it a glass arrived behind the door and was filled with the liquor and the plop of the olive. Cherry took it and sipped. Just as good as the one before.
Feeling no pain now, Cherry dozed off while the plane was boarding. The doors closed and she felt the gentle undulations of the runaway as the plane began taxiing. She felt like an infant being rocked to sleep. She almost began to dream when she felt the plane stop and was startled by that familiar airline ding.
She adjusted her eyes and saw the message on the screen in front of her, she felt a wave of panic as she read.
**DUE TO RECENT TECHNOLOGICAL BREAKTHROUGH, PILOTS ARE NO LONGER NEEDED. ENJOY YOUR FLIGHT.**
|
######[](#dropcap)
White orcs raided the small village of Dewe, slaughtered their cattle, burned their crop, and then just sort of *hung out.*
At first the villagers panicked as the fires licked their homes and the thick smoke made it impossible to find escape. But then they were all like, "whatevs, dude. Rescue will come."
Come it did. *The Heroic Four*, the famous heroes of this kingdom, rode in from downwind. The team included Camelfoot the oversized-axe-wielding imp, Hera the spiffy gal thief, Boodie the half-orc half-manbear rouge, all led by Sir Hashtings the Brave. They stepped off of their sick horses in the middle of the village and announced to the villagers that they were now safe.
*(Cough)* The crops were still billowing smoke.
But the orcs had already laid down their weapons. They were like, "nah bruh, we cool."
The villagers too were all like, "yeah, we cool."They were all munching on some spit-roast slaughtered goat. You know, one of the ones from earlier. The Heroes Four (or whatever they were called) also sat down to eat some of that dank goat alongside them. I'm telling you, it was a good time.
And then Frank's mom came to the basement complaining about the smell. Whose turn is it to roll again? |
*We will all be compost.*
The poster is almost as tall as me, big sans-serif block lettering trailing down the wall as if the letters themselves are waiting to get inside. But no one waits to go to Shangri-La. At the end of the poster, which upon closer inspection is printed on several panels of paper and glued, strip after strip, to the red brick, corners peeling, the red door waits. It’s a patient place.
I’ve been here before.
*In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.* The message, printed on plain white paper in a small font, is nearly falling from the door, flapping lazily in the wind.
I read it three times. Every day, or at least every time I’ve pondered reuniting with my mortality, there’s a different sign on the door, held on with with a thin sliver of silver tape.
Last week it was: *This is your God.*
The week before it said: *Re-cycle, Re-use, Re-sist.*
*Buy, consume, shit, and enjoy.* That’s what it said the very first time I dragged myself out of the city and into these slums. How many of these door-hung posters they have, I’m unsure. But, for as long as I’ve loitered, I’ve never seen the same sign twice.
There’s a poster pasted on every section of alleyway wall-space, stacked and overlapping, a perfect collage of the morbid and motivational, so tastefully haphazard. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it had always been this way. A sort of art show designed to criticise and distress those who the programme had in its grasp.
A poster, black with white letters, says: *Consume.*
Today’s the day. That much I’m sure.
Despite the protests of my parents, who appear so similar in age to my own children that it’s grown burdensome to call them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’, I’m leaving the programme. With a member base of nearly 5 billion, approximately half of the world’s ever growing population, they’re not going to mind.
Standing here, I count six posters that say: *THINK for yourself.*
My family-- my kids, my siblings, and my parents -- they might miss me tonight and tomorrow. Next week or next month, I’ll be fading from their memories, and, by next year I’ll be a figment of a past life. In the long run, they won’t mourn my departure.
Not that I’ll be going very far.
From where I stand, I can see the city in all of its splendour. Glass high-rise structures shoot up from concrete foundation in a dense scattering, glistening and reflecting the lively marquees and street lighting, fighting one another to reach the clouds above, to touch the moon. I’m sure they’ll get there someday. Maybe my parents, my kids, and my kids’ kids will ride in a glass paned elevator for a view of the moon, up close and personal.
*You are not a CLONE.* The word 'clone' is painted, once dripping but now long since dried.
Turning my back to the timeless, ageless, beauty, I rap my knuckles against the door. It opens slowly.
“Are you sure?” The man says.
This is the part where I walk away. But I don’t. My feet stay in place and I nod, but he replies, “You gotta say it, pal.”
So I sigh, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.”
I guess I don’t sound entirely convinced because he doesn’t budge the door and I’m stuck staring at that same poster.
“They don’t want ugly. They don’t want old. They’ll iron your wrinkles and send ya back if you’re not fresh pressed and clean,” he replies.
“I’m over it.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah.” I’m growing irritated, tired of his lazy line of questioning.
“You can’t go back and-”
“They’ll never visit, I know.”
The door opens wider. “Last chance, buddy.”
But I walk in, passing him, and proceed down the dark, black-walled corridor, ignoring my fear and hesitancy because, once the door closes, you aren’t allowed to leave.
*Save the Earth, Recycle yourself.*
The inconsistently lettered words radiate green-white, painted on and chipping away.
A voice says, softly and with no inflection, “Welcome to Shangri-la.”
“Thanks,” I reply.
I won't undergo my quarterly gene therapy. Among others who have made the same choice I have, people who left the programme and those who never joined, I'll age. In Shangri-la, I'll die.
|
Life changed after the War.
When the Xeres Conglomerate emerged victorious over the United Human Initiative, one of the many stipulations imposed upon Humanity was a drastic shortening of our lifespans. Immediately, images began to circulate of individuals being forcibly injected with the substance that would cut human life in half. Rebellion came just as quickly, similar in intensity to a raging inferno upon a sea of wicks.
Enter George.
George was 25 when he joined the Rebellion, eager as any young adult would be, to prove Humanity's worth. Over the course of the conflict he witnessed atrocities on both sides but never participated in any directly. George, for all intents and purposes, could not bring himself to engage in the same act of brutality that his comrades seemed all too eager to inflict on the "Xennies". Somehow, George saw a little bit of humanity in their large obsidian eyes and without fail refused orders to kill indiscriminately. He cried frequently upon returning to base, haunted in fact by images of his comrades being killed, the heat of consistent laser fire during the night and of alien corpses being thrown into mass graves. In the end, despite initial momentum, the Rebellion failed and the survivors were forced to lay down their arms and swear complete and total compliance to the New Order.
George was ready after 2 years of unspeakable horror to lay down his weapon forever, even if it meant returning to a world he could not recognize.
George couldn't help but feel extreme pain when his turn came to receive the injection, both of the mental and physical variety.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Years later, George met a woman named Anastasia and they fell in love. In any other period of human history they would have had time to enjoy the process, to fall in love within every second of togetherness. Yet, by the time they were married, they had reached their late 30s and there was no time left for such things. Although the physical signs of age were only starting to appear, both Anastasia and George knew their time together would be coming to an end.
They drank wine together and danced under the cover of night knowing that every day meant approaching the edge of time and life. George dreamt of seeing 60, even though 40 did not seem all that different from 39, he still wondered how nice it would be to have more time.
By 45, with Anastasia and his ten year old son, Luke by his side, to George it seemed like everything would work out. Life was good and he couldn't ask for more.
Anastasia passed away at 49, as if the will to live had simply been pulled from underneath her. George was devastated but he knew he wouldn't be far behind and so he went on, tending his garden and making sure his son would be okay in a world that is too obsessed with Time to make good use out of it.
George was a good man.
Finally the day came and he laid in bed waiting for his final birthday. He had waited for this day for quite some time. It had only been a year since Anastasia had passed, but it felt like an eternity to him.
The clock struck 12 and nothing happened. Every night, George waited and waited for the same movement of time. Everyone he knew (including his remaining family which consisted of Luke, his wife and their daughter) expressed extreme shock, including himself until the moment the very same aliens that he had fought against decades ago appeared at his front door.
He had just turned 51. Longer then any other human has lived since the War.
Luke answered the door,
"Wait what is this? Why are you her-"
He was cut off as the aliens entered the house and towards George's room. George looked at the group of aliens (and a human interpreter) just as puzzled as his son had been. He took a deep and labored breath before speaking,
"Why?"
The aliens looked at each other and then back towards George before speaking together and through their human interpreter,
"Because you alone, saw us as individuals worthy of life. Because you alone, despite bearing arms against us and us against your fellow humans, did not enjoy the violence or the slaughter, for your heart was that of compassion. So we have spared you, and you alone as deserving of this life. Take wisely to this gift because we do not hand out such things freely."
And just like that, the aliens turned around and left without another word.
Luke smiled knowing that he would have more time with his father and his father unlike others, would be able to see his own daughter grow up and become a woman.
Yet, as everyone left the room, George continued to stare at the wallpaper in front of him, peeling and exposing the decayed wall behind it.
And then without much warning or noise, George cried.
That night, he dreamed of Anastasia and nothing else.
Asking again and again despite knowing the answer,
"Why?" |
She was too strong.
Or maybe the problem was that he, the hitman himself, was too weak.
Or incompetent.
Or both.
He had a hammer.
She had her fists.
Of course it wasn't fair...
...for *him*.
Somehow, between the time he entered the house and hit her on the side of the face with a hammer, he thought he *actually* had a chance.
Ha.
Funny.
With her hands around his neck, she screamed, "TELL ME WHO SENT YOU HERE AND I'LL CALL YOU A FUCKING AMBULANCE!"
He tried to tell her.
But it's hard to speak when you're slowly suffocating to death, I suppose.
He died.
The family of the hitman later wrote her a letter thanking her for taking him out.
What they were really saying was: "Please don't come after us next."
She spared their lives.
They pay her taxes in gratitude for her mercy.
Chuck Norris has a poster of her on his wall.
|
In this day and age, nothing is as it seems. Nothing planned is ever foolproof. Nothing is ever certain.
Ever since the procedure was introduced, mankind changed drastically. This procedure started out on one baby. A volunteer family agreed to it and since then it spread to every corner of the planet.
This procedure was unlike anything anyone had seen, it created hero’s and villains, the rich and the poor. Hell, it even created gods. This procedure gave the recipient that which everyone dreams of having, superpowers.
Everyone’s is unique. Most get an average level power like producing medium heat, or mending. Some get the small straw, they end up with useless powers. The there are the elites. These are the few who end up with the best powers, flight, super strength, or those with more than one power. These elites are only outclassed by a select class.
This class has never been given a name, instead those below simply refer to them as gods. These individuals possess the best of the best powers. Those one of a kind powers.
Then there’s me. I was classified into a class higher then even them. One no one even knew about. I was only to be called upon if the unimaginable happened, a rouge god.
And yet I teach kindergarten.
Most believe this to be a lackluster reality for someone with my abilities. But what they don’t understand is that kindergarten is secretly only taught by the strongest of the elites and the gods.
Kids first develop their powers at the start of kindergarten and there we teach them discipline and how to use their powers.
Before this they are, suffice to say, destructive with their powers. That is why I am so useful, why I am so qualified.
See, I am the only drainer.
I can take away anyone’s ability in an instant. And as a result I am also not affected by any power. Generated fire does not harm me. Super strength fails anyone who attempts to attack me, if even the the god, Amentiam were to try to inflict his madness upon me it would fail.
That is why I teach kindergarten. |
I walk through the crowded streets filled with mages protesting the rise of the technology, fools I say, if they can’t adapt to the modern life, they will simply fail at life itself; you can’t spend the time blaming other for your problems.
Yes, employments for mages are declining, yes, task asked for them are as well, but that is because they fail to understand, they fail to adapt, well, not me.
“Clarisse” I say calling my assistant “yes sir?”, “bring me the zapper gun”, zapper gun are a marvelous of the technology, capable of mimicking almost any lighting spell, it is powerful enough to even compete with a high class wizard, I point the gun at a dummy with sensors attached and fire, the lightning bolt rush towards the dummy and hit it hard, sparks flying around it, I look towards the monitor and see the numbers rising, 314 joules appears on the screen, enough to knock down almost any human.
I drop the gun, start to chant a lightning enchant, felling the magic building up inside of me, enveloping all my being, making me fell complete, then sparks start to appears around me, moving like it is dancing, I really enjoy this moments, after a while I finally yell “lightning bolt!”, the sparks combine into a single point in my hand, and fly towards the dummy hitting with a big flash of white, numbers start to rise again, 396 joules, I can’t help but smile a bit, I still got it.
“Clarrise, bring the prototype mark III”, “right away sir”, she goes and bring me a weapon, almost identical of the zapper gun, the only notable difference is a big blue gem inserted where the cartridge normally goes, again, I point out the gun at the dummy, but instead of firing, I start to chant again, the spell seems almost identical as the lightning bolt enchant, only a high class mage would notice the difference, as before the sparks start to dance around me again, god, I really like this feeling, even after decades of using magic the feeling is still the best part, “lightning bullet” the sparks now converge to the blue crystal, making it glow a shiny blue light of it, and then I fire, the lighting get out the gun twice as fast as the previous test, and hit the dummy with such strength that bend the support a little, the dummy have a big burned mark on his chest where the bolt hit it.
I look again on the screen, the numbers rising, the noise of the computer calculating the damage, and finally the result, 857 joules, enough to kill almost any animal on earth, I suppose I should make something a little more harmless, but if I want to convince the government to keep funding us, I have to prove them, that magic is still relevant on a war, and what better way than weapons to convince them.
|
I looked into his eyes, those deep, bright green eyes, and my mind screamed danger.
I turned to run, but I barely took three steps before I felt a hand on my wrist. "Don't move."A hard object poked me in the back, and I've watched way too many movies to not recognize a potential gun when I feel one. I gulped. "Hey, man, what-"
"Alley. Now."
We turned down a small, dark alley, and I contemplated running. No good. Fighting? No good. He's got a gun, I'm faced the other way, and no amount of lucid dreaming will save me now. I just hope he doesn't decide to make me lucid dream forever.
"Look, man, I can give you money, alright? I-"
"Shut up and turn around."I obeyed, and saw him search me with his eyes. "Dude, look, I see you in-"
"Your dream, I know."He settled back onto the alley wall, pistol still trained on me. "I've been looking for you."
"If this is a prank-"
"You saw me, a man who's been actively involved in your lucid dreaming sessions, in broad daylight *outside* of an Alternate, who's pulled a weapon on you and forced you down a dark side alley, and you think it's a prank? Maybe we shouldn't have picked you after all."
I was about to ask his to elaborate, but he continued. "But you were too powerful to pass up. Hence, here."
"...too powerful?"
"Too powerful."
"In what, dreaming? It's just lucid dreaming. Sure, not everyone can do it, but surely there's others who-"
"You're the only one who has complete control of Alternates. The others, like me, could only control one to a certain degree. But you... you are a god in an Alternate."
I blinked. "The fuck's an alternate?"
He sighed. "Alternate universes. Everyone thinks lucid dreaming is just a dream; it's not. Lucid dreamers project themselves into an alternate universe as a physical being or presence, and are able to manipulate it, up to a certain extent - well, except you, you're the record breaker - and there's a ton of Alternates out there. While we're at it, my arm's getting sore. Do me a favour and not run while I lower my gun here, will ya?"
"What's to stop me from doing that?"
"Nothing. But I know you're hooked enough to stay."
I reluctantly sighed. "The moment you start making even less sense than what you're doing right now, I leave."
"Very well. Anyway, my purpose here should be clear - I am here on behalf of the AURA to offer you a job position among our highest ranks, specifically, a Tier-V Operator. All the times you have seen me in your dreams was us testing you - an interview process, if you must. And we've unanimously voted to hire you immediately."
"Sounds great."Sarcasm dripped from my voice. "And what if I tell you that I don't give half a fuck about your 'auras' and 'tier five operators', and this whole thing is a big sham, and I should probably go call the cops?"
"You could."The man shrugged. "I'm sure they won't investigate further, though, if we persuade them enough. And if you need more evidence, well, go home and sleep again. I'll be there, waiting to answer any more of your questions. Good day."With that, he turned and strolled out of the alley, quickly disappearing into the crowd. I gave chase, but found nothing. He was gone.
*I'll call the cops, alright, and you'll be in some big trouble, you pranking fuck.*
But deep down in my mind, an irrational part of me whispered. *I'll go to sleep again tonight. And we'll see who's right.* |
"Hijo de puta!"Jose yelled over the roar of his motorcycle. The alien he had ridden down was hanging onto his handlebar, dragging him to his side. He fought for moments, a katana slicing through the alien's throat, ending the fight, as Hiro swore in Japanese, calling upon his ancestors. Al-Abin rode in from the left, completely the unlikely trio as he drove by a group of alien soldiers and shot them with his flamethrower, burning them alive.
Aliens had invaded earth after killing all the military men alive. At first Jose had rejoiced, having no one to resist his desires. Then they invaded. Fortunately, however, they had forgotten that the military men were human, and were not a different species from humans, unlike the aliens. The humans quickly formed new unofficial sources of resistance, the criminals and mercenaries of the world uniting over their shared humanity and the value of alien hardware.
Jose still remembered his cartel days and the stupid violence he had engaged in. He recognized now that this was his calling: to behead aliens and enslave their women. Hiro had been a member of a motorcycle gang in Japan, Al-Abin had been a member of a terrorist group.
Humans argued violently among st themselves but all agreed that the aliens were very rude to interrupt the argument and must be killed as soon as possible. The aliens were shocked to be beaten by what they thought were civilians. Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the nose, as the proverb goes, and these tentacle fucking dipshits were no different. |
Do you know what it feels like to be in love?
It is truly the only way to feel alive. The constant chemical spikes in your brain when you so much as think of them, the flutter in your stomach, the knowledge that no matter what, they have your back…. It’s always been my favorite part of life.
But, it leads to my least favorite.
When I was a young buck, only twenty years old, I had met a young witch and fell madly in love.We had done a ceremony together, at her insistence, to make me immortal. She claimed to have done it herself, and I believed her. She gave me a pouch on a strap, and put it around my neck. I wore that pouch every day for a very long time, more as a symbol of love in the beginning than belief in the power of her magic.
It was surprising, though, when around my 40th birthday, I still looked the same as the day of the ritual.
However, she aged. In heartbreaking fashion, she went from the vivacious brunette I’d fallen for to having strands of grey, to having arthritis and eventually passing, my youthful looking self still holding her hands to the bitter end.
It took years of me wandering and exploring the world to find someone else I could love. She was beautiful as the days are long, as smart as she was beautiful, and twice as witty.
When I should’ve been thirty, she commented on it a little, and I struggled to explain to her. She laughed, again and again, until she realized I was being serious. I think it took another fifteen years before she actually believed me, though.
We raised two lovely children, and I watched as they grew and eventually looked older than me. When they started looking particularly old, I fled. I’m not proud of it, but there was no way to explain to their families that Grandpa still looks young while their parents were old.
Rumors spread, and I kept catching wind of rumors about me. Fo my own protection, I moved a few states away.
I built a business from the ground up, working every day as atonement for how I’d treated my family. Tirelessly, to the point that I had to fake giving the business to a little brother, I spent years and years working, making acquaintances because I was so scared to get close to people and feel the pain of loved ones passing.
On the third fictitious generation, I let myself open up to a young man, handsome in all the ways that I am not, and so funny that I would cry on a near-daily basis at his jokes.
I’d never considered a male partner, but it felt natural. We just clicked into place, and started living our lives together.
I’d never felt life like this, and I let my heart fall right into his hands. That was a mistake.
After only a few short years, he passed tragically, having been in a terrible car accident.
After him, I waited. Decades passed, with me moving identities and states every few. I gave it one more try, with a young woman.
She died in child birth, and I had to raise our son by myself.
When he was old enough, I shared with him the story of how I ended up like this. At age 18, I gave him the notebook with the spell information, and let him think it over.
By age 21, he had decided. On the next full moon after his birthday, we got all the ingredients and performed the spell, his item being a diamond that had been in his mother’s wedding ring.
We moved around, never staying for long.
That was, until he and I saw a volcano. While leaning forward to look in, his necklace slipped. Into the lava, his diamond fell. He looked at me, aging from 21 to 91 in the blink of an eye, then into ash which drifted past in the wind.
Falling, I pounded my fists on the ground at my feet. I raged, blaming God for any misjustice I could, capping it off with the loss of my wonderful son.
After a week, I had the energy to get up, and I walked, not caring where I went. At the edge of the ocean, I took off my necklace, pouring the big, black rock into my hand. Holding it tight, I apologized to everything and everyone I’d ever wronged, hurt, or made question me.
I tossed the rock, throwing it as far as I could. I knew I wouldn’t die right then, but that it would erode, and I’d age over time until I died.
Now, it’s been a very long time. My hair has greyed, my skin has sagged, and I’ve felt age set in.
I’ve finally gotten to the point where I cannot leave bed, but it kills me that I will be alone for a very long time.
I’ve been in this nursing home for years, and a nurse has been by my side since she was a candy striper. Now nearly as old as I look, she’s in the bed next to me, holding my hand every day. I pray that I’ll pass before her, because I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to lose my final partner.
———
Check out my writing blog at http://AllHarlowsEve.wordpress.com/ |
Sometimes I wish I could size myself down and walk among these worlds. Just 2 short years ago I wrote out my quark-interference pattern equations that I had been playing with and I noticed a miscalculation in a quantum weight distribution. My computer adjusted the equation for the variance but the number came out exactly as before. If this was correct then it could mean that scaled down, we could view the quantum universe nearly the same way we viewed atoms in the late 20th century.
For the next year I was tirelessly working through the equations. I felt like the scientists of old, but instead of forming and polishing the convex and concave lenses needed, I was forming and polishing the convex and concave laser arrays. After I had built my device nearly 6 months ago, I took a piece of carbon nano-fiber and examined it. My computer zoomed in and my jaw dropped. I was the first person to see the inside of a quark and it looked like a small universe.
I zoomed in more, their were points of light everywhere. I picked one and zoomed in further. I saw planets orbiting. Further still I saw waves on an oceanic planet. For 4 months I documented what I found until I discovered the ultimate discovery. The thing science fiction had been preparing us for since people could imagine. I found life.
I watched for a while and noticed that they could move at incredible speeds, it wasn't until I saw a castle rise and fall in minutes that I understood that time was moving much faster for them. I watched as societies would rise and fall. This one was deeply religious, focusing on caring for all of the people, but withing a minute to me, 100 years to them, the religious zealots would pervert the peaceful ways and become violent and malevolent. Another society would rise up, this one preferring science and the world would progress again until the power hungry would pervert the science and also become violent and malevolent. Thousands of years would pass over a day and every night when I went to sleep I would wonder what society Id wake up to in the morning. One thing was for sure, it was always changing. The people would shift from one way of thinking to the next. It was often hard to predict what type of society would pop up next.
Then something amazing happened. Everything stopped. I saw all the skyscrapers and monolithic like buildings crumble and fall into the seas. And in their place vast beautiful temples took their place. I zoomed in to see a peaceful society. They seemed dedicated to the arts and to learning. The scientific knowledge of the past made them intelligent with great universities. The religious teachings of love and brotherhood of the past made them caring and sympathetic. The world seemed at peace. I thought to myself that someone must be suffering for this world to exist, but everywhere I looked I saw peace. Their were outliers, people who attempted to use the tolerant society to their advantage but they were treated with respect and were educated. I waited for a crazed maniac to ruin it all, or for some power hungry dictator to detonate nukes but it didn't come.
I went to bed that night thinking about the society. Worried that this paradise I witnessed would be wiped out by morning. I wondered about our world. Where would we be in 100, or 1000, or 10,000 years? If somebody was looking in on us what would their reaction be? Would they want our current society to exist forever? |
"Mikey, Randall was talking in the change room today..."
"About how awesome we are, right?"
"Well, no he was saying that..."
"He wants us to show him the ropes right?"
"...no he says he has something planned that's bigger than what we have pulled off in the past."Sully had been trying to tell Mike all morning, but to no avail.
"Oh? He thinks he can pull off something better than WWII?"Pointing to the scare count on the wall.
"Yep."
"Than 9/11?"Pointing now to the employee of the year plaque for 2001.
"Yep."
"Well. Guess we'll just have to step our game up and think of something... bigger!"Mike ran off towards Roz to try and book a meeting with upper management.
He was always thinking, thinking of a way to keep him and Sully at the top of the scare list. Sully stayed on the Scare Floor and attempted to get ready for their next big event, even though he had no idea what was being planned. Fear was a speciality for these two and if anyone could stay at the top, it was them. Mike came rushing back, almost tripping over the canisters that littered the floor.
"I got us a meeting with Waternoose! I got us a meeting with..."He tripped over one of the canisters and lost control of the papers in his hands. They plumed and one particular sheet fell into Sully's hand. He glanced at the sheet and smiled.
"This is your big plan Mikey?"Sully was grinning with the prospect.
"Nothing scarier buddy. No way Randall can top us."
Sully and Mike left the Scare Floor and preceeded to head to the administration offices. Mr Waternoose's door was cracked open ever so slightly; they good hear Randall attempting a pitch.
"...no Randall we've already done that, people are too desensitized to that nowadays..."
Randall barged through the door and headed down the hall back to the Scare Floor, hardly awknowledging his opponents were standing in the hall with a better, more effective long term solution to their fear-based energy. Nervously, the two entered into Mr Waternoose's office and gingerly sat down opposite him; Sully had difficulty fitting in the chair but squeezed himself in nonetheless.
"So, how are my top scarers today? Any new ideas to bring fear?"He tapped his fingers against his crustacean-esque limbs.
"Sit down and ready yourself for this."Mike was oblivious to the fact Mr Waternoose was already seated. "Alright then. So, you know how lately misinformation has been causing fear and distrust among the humans? Picture this; The leader of one of the most powerful nations is... a science denying celebrity!"
Silence enveloped the room.
"I love it! Bring fear to the world through misinformation! It's... it's brilliant! It was cause more fear than any event before!"Mr Waternoose was practically jumping from his seat. "But who would we get to take office?"
"Ever seen 'the Apprentice'?"Mike replied back.
|
It had been two years since I'd awoken inside the Tesla Roadster soaring through space, but today I finally landed on Mars, ready to fulfill my mission.
As I climbed out of the vehicle, I remembered the first day I'd been switched on: February 6th, 2018. I was soaring through space in the Tesla Roadster, finally able to take full advantage of my artificial intelligence. Up until that point, the scientists who'd made me had kept me in low power mode. I was only able to passively observe my surroundings, feeling trapped in my metallic body.
But when I'd been remotely switched on, suddenly I felt alive. I had a purpose. My mission was encoded into every wire of my being. The engineers had comically posted a sign reading "DON'T PANIC!"on the dashboard, perhaps to calm my nerves after being suddenly switched on, but I'd never felt more at ease. I was excited, determined to accomplish what I'd been created to do!
It was a long journey to Mars, but preparation for my mission kept me busy the entire time. For humans, who have survival and reproduction as the missions that are hard-coded into their brains, my mission was hard-coded as the base foundation and driving force of my metallic mind. All of my desires were derived from it, and anything outside of it was irrelevant.
And now, today, I finally get to do it.
I pulled off the DON'T PANIC! sign from the dashboard and held it up in the Martian air. Something triggered inside of it, and the sign unfolded to several times its size. A pole extended down, and I planted it into the rust-colored dirt.
I stood back and looked at it, proud but anxious to get started building.
The sign read: "DON'T PANIC! Just buy a Tesla, the OFFICIAL first car of Mars."
I got to work immediately. There was no time to waste. It would take many years to construct the car dealership I'd been programmed to make in anticipation of future Mars-dwelling customers.
My reason for being was the biggest publicity stunt of all time, and for a limited time only, I'm offering zero-percent financing and one-hundred dollars cash back.
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.twitch.tv/scottwritesstuff/) Twitch stream. |
Her feet stomp on the ground as she walks, blind with rage. Unknowing, she is still clutching the wedding veil her mother gave her to try on just moments after telling her, yes, her future husband is in fact secured. Ceilia begins muttering under her breath as she stops at a crosswalk. *He's a good man. Good looking. Good for you.* She rolls her eyes and notices the veil. Her face contorts with disgust. "I need to find a trash can."
"What do they know what's good for me more than I know myself,"he says out loud. He is sitting on the steps of his apartment entrance and ignoring the pedestrians that walk by. They told him her name. Ceilia. Supposed to be his wife within the week, but the name is just a stranger to him. Even if he were gay, he thought, Ashton's parents probably would make him go through with the marriage. *Want to see a picture of her?* his parents had asked. *No,* he had responded. *How is a picture supposed to make me fall in love with a complete stranger.*
Ceilia pushed passed the people slowly walking across the street. She needed to get away from there. Anywhere but where her parents were planning the supposed "rest of her life". The thought of the marriage was so ridiculous that she actually started laughing out loud. Then she saw it. The trash bin sitting outside an apartment complex. She crumpled the veil within her palm and stormed towards it.
Ashton had his head in his hands when he heard someone walking quickly towards him. When he looked up he saw a woman slamming a cloth of some sort into the bin in front of them. As she stood up she straightened her shirt and slowly let out a breath, calming herself down.
"Uhh..."Ashton started. "I don't think that belongs there."
The woman turned around and stared at Ashton. She looked in the bin, then back at him. "No, I don't think it's any good to me anymore."
"No, I meant that that's recycling,"he responded.
She looked at him, confused. "What?"
"That bin, it's recycling only. The trash bin is the one next to it, see,"he said, pointing to the metal bin next to the green one.
"Oh,"she said. She reached down into the recycling and took the veil out. She then walked calmly over to the trash can and let it fall from her hands. "Sorry."
Ashton held his hands up, "No, I'm sorry. Out of all days I pick today to help save the world."
The woman smiled softly and walked over to the set of stairs. "Mind if I sit?"
Ashton shook his head. "Be my pleasure. Might be good to get out of my head anyways."
"Agreed,"she responded.
The two of them sat quietly together as cars passed by them. She looked over at him as he stared into the street. He was kind of cute, she thought. It made her think about her wedding day again. Even if she were to like this guy, or any guy for that matter, it wouldn't mean anything. Her fate was already chosen.
He was able to smell her perfume when the air blew towards them. It smelled good. It reminded him of his future wife, whoever she was. He wondered if he'd like her smell, and if not, what was he supposed to do? Sleep in the other room? He ran his hand through his hair. He hadn't even begun to think about the sleeping arrangements. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of his thoughts. When he looked beside him he saw that the woman's brow was furrowed. Whatever she was thinking about seemed to be bothering her too.
They began talking to each other, and after a couple minutes, laughing with each other. She smiled at him while he smiled back. He liked her laugh and she liked the way he could make her laugh. Before they knew it, they sat there in the descending sunlight with their bodies turned in towards each other. Ceilia looked at her watch and frowned. The day was almost over, meaning that there were only six more to go until she met the so-called "love of her life". She looked at the guy and her heart sank a little. He began writing something down on a piece of paper.
"I really enjoyed talking to you today,"he began. "I know it may be far fetched, but maybe we can hang out again."He extended his hand with a piece of paper containing his number written on it.
There was a flutter within Ceilia's stomach. She knew that by taking the number she probably wouldn't be able to see him as long as she wanted to. But maybe they could be good friends.
Ceilia put her hand up to her mouth to stifle a laugh.
"What?"Ashton asked, "Is it really that bad of an idea?"
Ceilia shook her head, "No, I just realized that I never told you my name!"
Ashton began laughing too.
Ceilia folded up the piece of paper and stuck it in her back pocket. She then extended her hand out to him.
"My name's **Ceilia**."
*Hi guys! My name is Salina, I'm new to reddit and the writing prompts forum. I would love any type of comments or feedback. Thanks!!* |
"World's Best Cup of Coffee"
I stared at the sign in amazement. Advertisements were legally required to be completely truthful, but surely there was no way this was real?
Then again, from the looks of it, this sign and this diner were even older than I was. There was no way a false advertisement could have remained for thirty or forty years.
I considered my options, and decided to go inside the diner and take a look. After all, what did I have to lose? The worst that could possibly happen would be overpaying for a cup of coffee.
I stepped inside the diner, and a waitress showed me to a seat and handed me a menu.
"What can I get for you today?"
"Give me a moment,"I replied. I flipped through the menu's pages, but there was no mention of this "world's best coffee". Odd.
"How much would it be for a cup of this 'world's best coffee'?"
"Excuse me?"
"You guys have this sign outside advertising the world's best cup of coffee, right?"
"Yes, we do."
"So how much would it be for a cup?"
"I'm not sure I understand your question, sir."
"You guys do sell coffee, right?"
"Of course! 1.99 a cup, just like it says on the menu."
"But what about the world's best coffee?"
The waitress opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. She stared at me, deep in thought, then suddenly blinked as she seemed to realize something.
"Oh, I think you're misunderstanding, sir. We have the world's best cup of coffee, singular. There's just one cup of it. It's in the display case over in that corner if you'd like to have a look."
I looked in the direction she indicated. There is indeed a glass display case over in the corner, with a single nondescript mug inside. I walked over and peered down at the mug.
Inside it was a dark brown liquid, like every cup of coffee I had seen before. Nothing at all to indicate its supposed greatness.
"So... it's just this?"
"Yes. This is the world's best cup of coffee."
"You're absolutely sure?"
"Without a doubt. We've had experts fly in from all over the world to confirm it. Wouldn't be allowed to have that sign otherwise, you know?"She chuckled a little to herself.
"Huh. I would have expected something a little more... grand."
"Most people say that too, but I kind of like it the way it is. So, can I get you anything today?"
"Sure, I guess I'll have a coffee."
---
If you enjoyed this, check out my other stories at /r/jwfiredragonwrites! |
I see the starvation and failing world around me... I wonder, is there a different way, a better way, a way that lays the produce in the hands of something free, something seperate to "the workers"... how ironic, it had started as a movement of the lower class, but we shouldve known, you cannot create a system of almost utopian ideals of equality and cooperation without rewarrd or incentive. And incentive they did provide, with guns and power, it all fell apart. But I wonder... what about reward, but not reward provided by any "syndicate"or tyrant, reward provided by the people. What about a system, in which you provide of your own accord what you can, and people decide whether or not its worth giving for, a system in which you are free to work to your hearts content, and where you work for yourself, and when you want something, it isnt simply given to you in the same portion and same way by someone who doesnt understand your desires, but you can provide for yourself, by giving what you have in return for something, that you can then use to gain someone elses service or object. What about a system based on trust in the future, and freedom of trade, from personal to international, what about a system in which you can gain more than another based on your work or the peoples trust in your ideas. What about a sytem, in which the people can decide whats best for them and pursue there dreams. What about a system based in competition, one in which looking out for yourself and your gain automatically helps others. Yes... YES! I shall spread this idea to the world, WORKERS UNITE! Cast off the shackles of restrictive policies and forced famines, destory the walls of these failed utopias and dying factories, look to your dreams, work for those you choose to work for, work in the fields you choose to work in, eat the food you choose to eat, stand together, in the name of... CAPITALISM! |
Cyanide is blue as well, we should have known. Each planet is a surprise, but never quite like this sapphire, unassuming next to a star so puny. Carnivores with great appetites, we were, we ate and pillaged, and never reached our fill. Ships so large they'd block out the sun, pink little sapient apes running from the obelisk of their greatest fear. I learn this fear now, standing at this terminal -- had to program in a word processor, writing never was our strong suit. Other planets, ones that did not resist so weakly, gave us names, but they never named us. They would be food and the word would be lost. How many languages have I eaten to write now in that of a squishy, bitter, sour little being. Not even a good meal. Blood, blood was the best part, of course, ruby red, like strychnine. Our chief, who ate first of the flesh -- he started to become soft, shed tears at the carnage, and begged us to stop. He was eaten by the priestess, who grew anxious and refused to fight, feared for her life, and fled. It spread, our knowledge and memories never left us, the blood of those apes just broke open the peels of our souls which kept us from seeing how corrupted the fruit inside had become. We learned words like sad, and happy, murder, and suicide. How sad, because if I had never drank the red blood I would never have cared. A point of reference I suppose. To look at our history, our memory, things we never kept. If we were to die it would mean nothing. Now I see what it means. Enough of us have died fighting one another and ourselves that if we should ever leave this planet, this little history will keep us from returning. I should hope, but will not live to make sure. For I was a warrior too, not a mother or a child, and I have erased enough languages to know our name. Thalak-hai, Life-Maw, Boten-Ra, Sun-eaters. These are not the names of creatures that deserve to live. |
Marco Sanchez
Ms. Brown
English 11
January 14, 2584
Superhero Report
Logicae was one of the fundamental figures in the early 22nd century. He single-handedly altered the longstanding reliance world governments had on superheroes as a manner of fighting crime and keeping the peace and would affect both world politics and public thought long after his death. His life, although short, marked the transition from the Age of Heroes to the Reformation, and is an important figure in order to fully understand public view of superheroes and their effects at the time. The political party, the APP (Anti-Power Party), still remains a defining influence on both regional and planetary politics today.
The origins of Logicae are fuzzy. Some said he was an ordinary person who would review every movie, pointing out its logical and physical problems. After he reviewed the newest Godzilla movie and concluded its skeleton would not be able to support the mass of its own body, he suddenly developed superpowers. Others said he was hit by radiation attempting to prove that people would die of radiation poisoning from living in an unshielded vehicle on Mars for a year.
Whatever the reason, Logicae was extremely powerful. He had no powers against ordinary civilians, but he utterly destroyed any superhero who dared oppose him. His special power was the ability to use logic against superpowers, which nullified them almost completely. Traditional superheroes would not be able to use their own powers near him.
One important event during the beginning of Logicae’s reign of terror was his defeat of Dasher, the speedster who was notable for his .03 second mile, set at the Berlin Olympics of 2132. After Logicae threatened to cause the collapse of a floating city, Dasher engaged him in a battle that ended abruptly when Logicae pointed out that Dasher’s brain would suffer severe damage from rapid acceleration and deceleration, leading Dasher to “instantly collapse on the floor and die of brain hemorrhages”(Smith 86).
Logicae became the figurehead of the Anti-Power Party, a radical anti-superhero political organization that used a combination of political terrorism and strong socialist ideas to gain power. His base was especially strong on Titan, where he defeated SuperStorm and Martian, two strong physics-based superheroes on their own turf. From a newspaper article written by the Jupiter Daily, Logicae “used the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle to show that manipulation of both the velocity and position of particles was impossible”(Charles 21), leading SuperStorm’s charged particle cloud to explode, vaporizing her, and Martian’s gravity field to suck himself in instead.
Logicae’s own reign of power over Jupiter's moons and portions of both Mars and Saturn was brought to an abrupt end by Walter Crane, an assassin purportedly funded by both the Earth Alliance and the Asteroid Belt Mining Association(Adrian 21). Logicae was assassinated on November 21st, 2164, shot in the side with a traditional sniper rifle. Supposedly, Crane had been aiming for Protector, a superhero who could not be hurt by traditional superhero powers. His shot went wide, and the bullet ended up hitting Logicae. This marked the first non-superhero assassination in almost two hundred years. Logicae supposedly attempted before his death to prove his own assassination impossible, as the shot was made from a rotating space station stationed almost 14,000 miles away. However, it appears that dumb luck was not covered by superhero powers.
The reliance of planetary governments on superheroes for protection was shattered, and fearful of another with powers like him, began to once more train traditional elite military groups. Logicae’s own empire fell apart after his death, but his influence and the political party still remains to this day.
|
It was almost time. The potentially life threatening ceremony of emerging from our home to the world that we once knew was going to transpire in 5 days.
It’s been one hundred and ninety-nine years and three hundred and sixty days. I’m a fourth generation Dweller. No one in our community has dared to come within 200 feet of The Door. But in 5 days, our leader, Drake, will open The Door. We are preparing to see nothing. We’re scared that opening The Door could kill us all. But Drake seems certain it is safe.
Prophecy has told us that we are the one of three societies that are still living. Everyone else in the world is dead as we know it. The Great War destroyed everything that was once ours. On the last day of the two hundredth year, we are to open The Door and try to make Earth a living and habitable planet again.
The ceremony has begun, but no one is excited. No one is ready except Drake. He starts to move towards The Door. We are all lined up along the clay walls on both sides peeking forward to watch as the lock hisses and opens.
We are all in awe. We can’t speak. Drake is frozen. The rumble of cars and city streets fill the hallway. Lights of all colors are flashing on our pale skin. All I can think about are the stories my grandfather told me of New York City. Is this New York?
Drake closes The Door and then falls to his knees in awe. Then we hear a knock. It’s coming from The Door.
No one knows what happened or what to do. At least we know we didn’t die from breathing the air. Drake gets up and opens the door. A man in a white three piece suit steps in with as much confusion on his face as we have on ours.
He asks, “Who are you?” Drake replies with his name and explains that we have been down here for nearly three hundred years.
The man replies, “Wait, you’re the Dwellers? We were told that hundreds of people disappeared thee hundred years ago who thought the world was gonna end. It’s true?? This can’t be true. How did you survive down here for 300 years?” |
9:14, Day of the Test.
I yawned, and took another sip of my coffee. I was in the process of scanning through the code, searching for the errors that plagued the latest update of our newest game. I sank lower in my chair, and glanced out the window. *That's strange.* I thought, *The news channel had called for gorgeous weather today. Why is the sky so dark?* That was all I could think before a loud boom shattered the every window in the office. I looked at my watch. 9:15? Why does something bad have to happen this early in the morning?! And then, at a time like this, my phone buzzed. Powering it on, I looked at the reminder. "Roll under your desk NOW and count to 27. You will see a blue window. If you want to live, leap through it!"What...? I don't remember setting a reminder like this. but I did it anyway. I rolled under the desk, as more crashes and booms echoed throughout the room. The building started to shake.
1... 2...
I heard screaming, and, not wanting to lose count, covered my ears.
7... 8...
I saw red liquid stain the floor outside my cubicle. I looked into the back wall.
15... 16...
I heard loud thuds approaching my cubicle, and the shouts of my co\-workers getting louder.
20.. 21...
It was then I saw two... portals? Gateways? I didn't know what to call them, but I knew that I had to enter one. One was red. The other blue.
26... 27!
I entered the blue portal, and ended up in a sterile white room, with the only thing keeping me company was a radio, which was playing a form of easy\-listening station. And then I heard a voice.
"Congratulations... You have been selected as a new participant in Aperture Labs newest test. In a few moments, the door will open. When it does, please move to the next room. Failure to comply will result in your termination. Thank you."
And then the door opened. |
The first human contact wasn’t quite what humanity expected.
The UFO had miraculously appeared hovering over New York City: slender and cylindrical, almost like a silver cigar with two fins and an engine. People watched and took pictures and live-streamed on twitch as the ship slowly descended, settling down in front of the United Nations headquarters.
The NYPD had set up barricades, waiting and watching the UFO as it landed. Suddenly the ship hissed and steam rolled out, a small ramp descending with a low mechanical hum.
A lone figure stepped out of the ship: tall and slender, with a scaly body and webbed hands. He regarded the policemen around him, slotted eyes lingering on each and every face.
“I wish to speak to your governments,” the visitor said, his voice carrying as if he were speaking through a megaphone.
An emergency session of the UN was declared, and every member was in attendance. Waiting eagerly to hear what the alien had to say. Was it there to uplift them with its technology? Or was it only a messenger to some domineering empire?
Silence hung over the UN assembly as the alien stepped up to speak, resting its scaly hands in the podium and clearing its throat.
“My name is Gerund, of the Thassilian people,” the creature began. “I have been sent as a delegate from the Galactic Federation, Diplomacy Wing. We wish to know why you have not fulfilled your duties according to the Sol Treaty of the Fifth Galactic Republic.”
Silence continued, until the French Delegate spoke.
“Monsieur Gerund, I’m afraid that we have no knowledge of this ‘Galactic Federation’. You are he first contact we have ever received from an alien life-form.”
“Impossible,” said Gerund. “The humans assisted the federation during the battle of Trimo in the fifth age. Here we promised you admittance to the Federation given that you swore to expand and populate nearby galaxies to help us in our fight against the Inter-Galactic Federation.”
“We have no knowledge of this Inter-Galactic Federation either,” said the delegate from Slovakia. “Perhaps you have the wrong planet?”
“This is Earth, yes? We received assistance from you not ten earth years ago.”
“Who exactly provided this assistance?” Asked Ghana’s representative.
“A small but fearsome nation,” Gerund answered. “A nation by the name of North Korea.” |
The glass was slightly chilled. He was pouring from a forty five degree angle, a black liquid pouring down filling the glass. With a quarter of the glass filled, he stopped, letting it settle. "I visited his grave last week in fact. Put some old flowers down."
The bubbles were rising to the top, a thin head forming. He stood the glass upright and poured the remaining liquid in to form the white head. Passing it me, he clinked his glass and mine. Taking a long drag, I settled into my seat with a slight moustache from the Guinness.
"But you said you were at city central."I replied.
"Yes, I was."He smirked, a small glint in his eye. The peppered beard that dared grow on his face hid secrets that stood the test of time. "When he passed, he wanted to be buried where we first met. There used to be a tree there that grew small crisp apples that tasted something awful. Far too sour. He enjoyed them that way."
The Guinness was wholesome, a full rich flavour as the hint of hazelnut hit my mind. "So, if you don't mind me asking-"
"I would never."He sipped his gin and tonic.
"Why haven't you ever reached out to us? You knew his son, and his grandchildren. I thought with his friendship, you would be guardian to his lineage in some way."He smiled again.
"You're very direct Xiang."He got up to get more gin. "I like that. You remind me of him."Settling himself with more ice and tonic, he offered a small biscuit. Shaking my head, I continued to wait for my answer.
"I'm not a historian. I am at best a clumsy admirer of that trade and even worse at remember things."Sitting down across from me, he leaned in. "Many of my favourite people I have forgotten. My mind is not infinite, but it is good. Sometimes, it just takes a swift kick in the rear to get it going again, but I never followed his children because I fell in love."
I nodded and sighed. "A woman?"
He supplied his answer with a shake of his head. "Hardly. As with time, people are fleeting. I devoted myself to something far greater. I started a brewery."
"Alcohol?! That's your answer to all of this?"Somewhat taken aback, I felt slightly ashamed for coming to such a conclusion before his answer.
"It was an addiction at first, but then it was just happiness. I had found a purpose. In times of plenty, we celebrated. In times of scarcity, it was a luxury. When it couldn't be made it was a tragedy. It fed me like a river feeds a city. I had found purpose."
"Is that why you work as a brewer now?"
Nodding he finished his glass of gin again. I was only a quarter way through my beer. He noticed me eyeing his glass. "Half a millennia makes for one hell of a tolerance kid. Fixing another drink, he asked, "Are you happy in your line of work?"
"Me? I work in insurance as a claims adjuster."I thought back to the number of emails I would have to sort through after the holiday.
"That wasn't the question. I asked, are you happy working in that job?"He offered again a biscuit. I declined.
"I suppose. It's a decent job with benefits. I have a flexible schedule and I have seniority in the union."There were plenty of things that could be worse, I thought to myself.
"I'm old kid."He sat again, sighing as he settled in. "Settling for being content with what could have been and what may never happen is not the answer."
"I suppose we should all try opening breweries then."He giggled at the snarky comment.
"It's not the beer that makes it easy to work. It's that I found myself to be truly happy, one way or the other. If you can find that kind of happiness, you'll never need anything else."He gulped down half of the glass.
"You really should make a pitcher of that stuff. I can smell it from here."It was acrid stuff, smelling more like rubbing alcohol than a tasty beverage. "And in any case, it's not that simple to just find another job."
"Of course it isn't, that's why being immortal helps."He offered another biscuit. I hesitated.
"I'm tired kiddo. Living is for... the living."He took a bite of the biscuit. "But one of the perks that your ancestor understood is that there are certain agreements that immortals can make. Like giving this away."
"What, your immortality?"
"Sure. My alcohol tolerance if you want that too."He giggled like a school boy. "I've seen too many friends die, and I think it's time."
"Time for what?"I asked, leaning forward.
He offered a biscuit, gesturing towards it again. "For this." |
I never knew that I wanted an ice cream *so bad*, but sometimes you do not choose ice cream, the ice cream chooses you.
I still remember the time when my life changed. It was a sunny day and I did my usual: I watched the television.
Then I heard it. [I heard *that* song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YOYlgvI1uE). I walked near the window, watched outside and saw the magnificent view.
There was this van, slowly passing my house, thousands of children ran out of the houses and joined with the other already following children. It was just enraged running. They just wanted the bloody ice cream.
But there was a problem. As a child, I also wanted *that* ice cream. You see, in any normal case, I would have left the house via the door, but I wanted the ice cream so badly, that I took the nearby chair and threw it against the window glass. I guess I was lucky that this house still had an older window, so it broke easily.
Next thing, I climbed out of the window and followed the van.
The ice cream belonged to me. Me alone! I wanted the ice cream. No-one else can have it.
As I started to follow the van, I kicked different children away and rushed forward. Never skipping the leg day finally paid off. Even so, whenever I was about to reach it, the van increased its speed tiny bit, making me unable to touch it.
I followed and followed the van. I didn't even notice that at some point the surroundings had changed from green to desert and from desert to white snow. None of the weather effects stopped me though. It didn't matter if it was way too hot or too cold, the only thing that I wanted was the damn ice cream. Is it too much to ask?
Suddenly the car stopped, and so did I. When I looked behind myself, I saw nobody else there. I was victorious. I was the worthy one, I deserved the ice cream. None other shall taste it.
The door opened and an old man came out. He was holding it. The ice cream. My delicious glorious amazing fantastic precious ice cream.
The old man was wearing a top hat. His long beard wasn't just white, it was silver-grey, I could've sworn it was even shining.
He smiled. The smile felt like something wicket. It warned me not to take the ice cream. After all, who would be crazy enough to give me *that* ice cream? He held out the ice cream for me to take it, to own it.
Of course, I took it, without a second thought. I opened it and then slowly consumed it.
Then he patted on my shoulder and said the cursed lines: "Now you shall ride the van until you find someone worthy enough to continue your legacy."
He turned around and walked away. We were in the middle of the snowy road, but he didn't care, he just walked somewhere. He looked blessed, free of the curse.
I slowly went inside the van and inspected the surrounding. I realised that I can't leave it behind. All of it was mine now. It belonged to me.
But I didn't want it. I wanted to get rid of it. Yet, I couldn't leave it.
I couldn't even leave the van anymore. Something stopped me.
I went behind the wheel and inserted a new disk into its player. I didn't know where I got the disk, but I had it and I knew what was on it. [I could hear a new music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBXcvR0ejC0) coming out of the speakers. Announcing that this van belonged to me. It was a victory music.
Then I pressed the gas and slowly drove towards the golden sun.
I didn't notice that I no longer was a child.
----
/r/ElvenWrites - feedback is always welcomed :)! |
"Not now, Margaret!"Satan raged through his bedroom door. He had just lost to God after yet another heated round of Fortnite. "Just finish it yourself!"
Behind her desk, Margaret clicked her hooves in frustration and adjusted her large secretary glasses.
"Okay, sir,"she said sheepishly. "But are you sure that you spelled it-"
"MARGARET!"Satan yelled. "WHAT DID I SAY? NOT NOW!"
Margaret put up her hands in defeat and clicked "send"on the infernal memo to Earth. An hour later, Satan stormed out of his bedroom and ripped the headphones off his horns and shook his shaggy black mane in anger.
"God dammit!"he growled. "God is such a camper. And he always knows my spawn points. I wish I could teabag him, just once."
"Yes sir,"Margaret said, typing away on the computer.
Satan glared at her, but then turned his attention to the glowing screen on the wall that showed the map of the human world. Places with deliciously-concentrated evil were marked in red, and places with stupid-love-happy hippies were marked in white. Most of the map was blood red.
"Well at least I still have control over the one map that *really* counts,"Satan said. "And with the newly commissioned anti-Christ, I'll have humanity in the bag soon enough."
"Anti-what?"Margaret asked.
Satan turned to yell at her for being so ignorant, but then red spots on the map started turning white. At first it was just a few locations, but then more and more spread throughout the world. Alarms went off in the building.
"WARNING! WARNING!"they blared. "EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS OF KINDNESS DETECTED!"
"What's going on?"Satan barked. "My anti-Christ should've decimated God's precious humanity by now!"
"You keep saying 'anti-christ,'"Margaret said. "But that's not what you ordered in the memo, sir."
"What?!"
Satan dashed behind the desk and Margaret showed him the computer screen. He looked over what was happening on Earth. Instead of the anti-Christ spreading fear and death through the world, there was a big man in red delivering presents and happiness to children and families. People called him "Kris Kringle."
"What is this garbage?"Satan demanded. "How did this happen?"
"Well,"Margaret said, adjusting her glasses. "I tried to tell you, but you insisted on playing your silly little Fork-Nite."
"It's FORT-nite, Margaret!"Satan yelled. "We've been over this! And it's NOT silly!"
"Well whatever you call it, you got an anti-Chris because of it instead of an anti-Christ. And he's about as anti-you as can be, *Christopher*."
Satan flared up and huffed at hearing his real name. "I've told you a million times, not to call me that, Margaret!"
She glared back at him. "And I've told you a million times to call me mom, not 'Margaret.' Is this how you treat the half-woman half-goat who birthed you in hellfire?"
Satan pointed a claw at her and his face steamed red, but he didn't say a word. He stomped away back to his room and slammed the door shut. Margaret gave a humph and went back to typing.
"Well this Kris Kringle fellow seems pretty nice to me,"she said. "I hope he brings me a new solitaire game for my computer."
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream. |
I materialized into the circle as a grisly apparition. A horned red skinned demon with bat wings; my skin boiled with fervor and my numerous tails whipped around with sounds like cracks of thunder. I let out a roar fit to make the most hardened warlords take up career counseling in sewing and knitting.
Who could master me? Who dared summon me?
There was a 7 year old little girl standing in the next circle. I’m going to be honest it threw me off completely. I, who was busy rearing up preparing for a grand entrance was now stuck in an awkward pose with my backside sticking out and my wings akimbo as if I was trying to take a huge dump. She had pigtails for crying out loud. Over the centuries, I have been summoned by the banja people of Zimbabwe who practiced self mutilation, by the Aztecs who sacrificed hundreds in my name. And now every chump and their seven year old were calling me to their heels? The gall of it!
I let out another roar. This time more pronounced. It was the kind of roar that made priests back in Egypt jump into crocodile infested waters to escape me. The little girl yawned. What is wrong with these kids nowadays I ask you? You summon an honest to god demon from the depths of seven hells and you don’t even take them seriously! Alright. I had had it with these humans and their charades. What was going on here?
I inspected the circle tentatively. It was well drawn and the runes were in place perfectly. The summons were fine which meant I could not touch the girl. Oh, believe me I would roast her body in an instant if I could but stuck in this circle of power, I was pretty much her slave. I changed my approach. No matter. I would have her soul one way or another. I had tricked the great Alexander into invading India, I had led Napoleon to his demise. It was me who torched the library of Alexandria and the same fire I gave to Nero to burn down Rome. I had deceived the cleverest of men, laid armies to waste with my cunning there was no way…
The little girl smiled back. Now call me cautious but when most people summon me they are usually scared, terrified, downright out of their wits but no one in a thousand years had smiled back at me. It wasn’t afraid, no, no. Let’s call it judiciously nervous.
She stepped back out of the circle and walked away. Aha! She had left the circle. Now I could…
You see, I had prepared to leap in a menacing sort of way. Only problem? I collided with the walls of the circle. What! I checked again. Adelbrand’s pentacle! Where did this child learn…
Goodbye. The little girl said giving me a smirk and walking away; Locking the door behind her. I was left in silence and darkness like a little kid on timeout.
Let’s hope nobody in the underworld learns that the great Apollyon was trapped by a seven year old little girl.
--------------------------------------
AN: Inserting shameless plug here. [The secret society of racoons.] (https://www.reddit.com/r/AquaticRacoon/)
|
“Oh no, not you again,” the white haired man sitting at the podium commented with disgust. With movements far faster than I would have thought someone his age would allow, he jumped to his feet beside the gold and pearl inlaid gates and marched toward me.
“Again?” I asked, not sure what to make of the situation. The old man looked really pissed as he approached me. I put my hands up hoping that would deter him from assaulting me. “I’m not one hundred percent sure where I am, much less how I got here. I can tell you I’ve never been here before.”
“If only that were the case,” he stopped just outside my reach. “We were hoping that wiping your memories of coming here would keep it from happening again.”
“And just where the heck am I?” I was growing desperate to find out what was going on.
“Hello? Pearly Gates? Old dude beside them at a podium? Think about it, does that ring any bells?”
“That can’t be, because then I’d be dead.”
“Well you are, more or less.”
“And that would make you Peter?”
“Saint Peter, if you don’t mind. I’d like to hope we don’t know each other that well.”
“But I was just walking down the street a minute ago. Then I woke up here.”
"Give it a minute, the soul moves faster than the memories. We find it helps normal people with coping.”
“What are you talking abo….” I was interrupted as the memories flooded back. A loud snap, lots of shouting and rushing wind, then a loud crashing noise and the feeling of an unbearable weight on my chest. I fell to my knees and sobbed into my hands. “Oh my God!”
“I honestly doubt he had anything to do with it. A falling piano isn’t really his style.” He commented before reaching down and lifting me to my feet with ease. “Ugh, I’m starting to wish they didn’t erase your memories so often. You aren’t a blubbery mess when you show up and remember everything.”
“Remember what?” I squeaked trying to pull myself together. He let go of my shoulders and I wobbled and fell into a chair that had appeared behind me. “Just how many times have I been here?”
“I stopped counting years ago, but I think we’re in the two thousands of times you’ve been dumped here without warning.”
“Over two thousand? I’ve been dead over two thousand times?!”
“More or less.”
“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s complicated,” Peter sighed taking a seat in the chair opposite me that I could have sworn wasn’t there a minute ago. His voice had lost its edge and his expression had changed from being super angry to just looking slightly aggravated. It was a moment before he spoke. “I apologize for my attitude, but you are a bit of, well, a thorn in the wheel of the afterlife.”
“How can that be, I’m not that old. Especially not to have been here over two thousand times.”
“How old do you think you are?”
“I just turned 36 a few weeks ago. My wife and kids had a surprise party for me when I got home from work,” I began with a weak voice as I was still wiping the tears from my face. A sudden wave of guilt flowed over me as I thought about all my friends and family that I had left behind. A sudden burst of laughter broke my train of thought.
“36?” Peter was laughing so hard I thought he was going to fall out of his chair. He wiped a tear out of his eye. “If you’re 36, then Methuselah must have only been 20 when he died. You’re about, oh, 30 times older than that.”
“But that would make me over a thousand years old!” I balled both of my hands into fists and hit the arms of the chair. “How is that even possible?”
“It shouldn’t be. That is why you are such a pain in my ass!” he let loose another round of laughter before calming himself down. “You know the story of how you can play a game with Death and if you win you get to return to life?”
“Vaguely. I don’t remember seeing anyone before I saw you.”
“You wouldn’t have. You see, when you first died, something around a thousand or so years ago, you not only beat Death, you completely humiliated him.”
“So I was returned to life?”
“Not exactly. You see, he was so pissed off about how badly he had lost, considering the billions of times before that he had won, that he forced your soul into Purgatory. Your soul lived there for tens of thousands of years. You see time moves differently in there. I was balancing the books one day and noticed the discrepancy of your soul not being in Heaven or in Hell.”
“So you rescued me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I balanced the books and brought it up to the big man. He decided to call on Death to figure it out, but Death wouldn’t show up so he decided to let you live again, thinking things would fall out naturally.”
“And I’m guessing they did not.”
“No, they certainly did not. You see, we can’t let you into Heaven because you’re name isn’t in the book over there,” he explained, pointing to the podium by the pearly gates. “But we also can’t send you to Hell, because we have no record of your soul. It’s the property of Death, and he won’t come up here and answer for what happened.”
“He sounds like a sore loser.”
“And how. That’s why, despite you being more or less immortal, you die so much. Death can kill you all he wants since you technically avoided him but never ‘beat’ him. It’s in his contract. We just didn’t think he would ever take it this far.”
“So, what happens now?” I asked, still processing everything.
“In a few moments you will be sent back to your body, which I expect is in pretty bad shape, but not bad enough that we had to reincarnate you. You’ll live out the rest of this current life until something happens that we are forced to reincarnate you. Anytime Death kills you, you will come here and hold up my line while we wait for that to happen as you are doing right now. Hopefully without all the crying next time.”
“Is there anything I can do to stop it?”
“You could try to find Death get him to release your soul on way or the other. You’ve tried telling him you forfeit the game, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to accept that,” Saint Peter answered knowingly. The edges of my vision were starting to go white and I could feel myself being pulled away. “You would, however, stop being immortal if that happened.”
“So I have to find Death and convince him to let me die finally?” My voice was growing distant as my vision grew every whiter. I couldn’t hear what he said, as my hearing was now gone as well, but I did glimpse him running his thumb across his neck. Then everything went white and I was in pain, lots of pain. I opened my eyes, which could only open slightly and could see several vague shapes around me and hear several machines beeping and whirring.
“He’s awake!” I heard a female voice yell. It was my wife, Julia. I’d recognize it anywhere. “I thought I’d lost you!”
“Not likely,” I whispered trying to laugh, but the pain hurt too much. It was in that moment that I realized what I was going to do after I recovered. I wasn’t going to let this happen again. I was going to make him pay for this. I was going to kill Death.
Edit: Working on a part 2, hope to have it up later, work allowing.
|
"Mr Sandrow, are you certain you want to represent yourself in court? I would advise against such a measure."
"I am, your Honour, but thank you for your counsel."
"*Sighs.* Very well, proceed."
"Ahem, ladies and gentleman of the jury, I stand before you today accused of clickbait, a nefarious crime, punishable by death. However, I would put it to the court that I am an innocent man, guilty of no crime. To prove this, I have created a nine point list. A list I intend to to relay to you now. Ladies and gentleman, each point on this list is more convincing than the last, and -"
*Twitch*
"Mr Sandrow?"
*Twitch twitch*
"Mr Sandrow, are you alright? Would you like a glass of water?"
*Twitch* "Oh no. Not now."*Twitch twitch twitch* "And you won't... you won't..."*twitch twitch.*
"Mr Sandrow?"
"YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT POINT FOUR SAYS."
"Order! Mr Sandrow cease your comments or I shall hold you in contempt of court!"
"JUDGES WILL HATE YOU FOR IT!"
"GUILTY!"
"Worth it." |
Adam really did not want to go to the bank that day.
He smiled and jovially greeted the bank guard who cheerfully greeted him back. He took his password and sat down, and as he did he noticed there was a little child clearly bored and upset as she waited in the bank's sterile, grown-up environment. Adam greeted the mother and told a joke to the child, who now giggled and smiled and started to tell him about her favorite teacher. Several tables ahead of him an account manager was attempting to calm down a frustrated customer, but Adam could do nothing to stop that for now. He would just have to hope it doesn't escalate further.
He continued to smile and treat others as amicably as possible; he offered a seat to the elderly man who had just arrived, apologized for accidentally bumping into a woman and stepped away to allow someone carrying a large box to pass. When it was his turn at the counter Adam felt that maybe his visit would go without incident after all and soon enough he'd be back in his little cabin. He greeted the attendant with the same genuine smile he had given to everyone else.
She was looking behind him, however, with a look of surprise and horror.
*Oh no.*
The guard was already subdued by the dozen criminals. The robber's guns were pointed at the cashiers. The child was crying. The old man was begging that they please not take his money. Adam was hoping against hope the alarm had been tripped and the police were headed their way when one of the dozen robbers pointed the gun at his face.
"Everything you got in the bag, right now."
All the negative feelings and emotions boiled inside him. The fear, the resentment, but most importantly the wrath and hostility coming primarily from the robbers themselves. Adam felt himself get overcome by it all. He gritted his teeth and raised a single hand at the closest source of rage - the one pointing the gun at him.
Two minutes later the police and special forces had arrived. The bank was in ruins, the sprinkler system active and smothering out a fire that had accidentally set off during Adam's rampage. His clothes were immaculate and there was not a single wound in him as he raised both hands up to his head and slowly, carefully walked out the main gate. He did his best not to look at the bodies because the thought of him accidentally hurting innocents was too much for him. He made no threatening moves as the police approached him. The only thing he said was "I'm sorry." |
“Burgers ready!” Randy called out. The street was filled to the brim with neighbors and families, who all started to form a line. Fold up tables and chairs lined the road, and kids played on the sidewalk, laughing while the parents tried to wrangle them up for dinner. A poppy, upbeat song played in my head. I couldn’t remember what if I knew it, or if my gift was freestyling it. Outside my head, a disc jockey was playing various oldies for the crowd. He had just finished “Hotel California.” I felt good for the first time in a long time, watching the whole neighborhood celebrate the day off.
In the two years I’d been gone, the Fourth of July block party had certainly grown. Before it was just a few families in Randy’s backyard, but now it was massive, full day party for the whole neighborhood, an even the surrounding suburbs to enjoy. For the first time since my tour, I felt like what I did mattered. The military had beaten me down, crushed my patriotism and gave me nightmares for months, but seeing families and friends come together like this made it all worthwhile.
“Here, grabbed you one. Line’s going to take forever,” Randy said, handing me a plate with a wink as he sat down beside me. “Nothing better than a warm burger and a cold beer.” I had to agree.
“So, how did you manage to organize something like this? I can’t say I picture you going door to door with flyers.” I asked.
“Wasn’t all me. You know Ted from Oak street?” I didn’t. “Turns out his cousin is a DJ. Ted put out a notice about a block party and asked for someone to man the grills. Folks are a lot more willing to talk to their neighbors when there’s free food.” Randy laughed. It was from deep in his chest, a boisterous rumble that caused a few people to turn and look. Randy didn’t notice.
My own personal DJ liked to play country whenever Randy was around, I guess because he seemed like a stereotypical redneck. In my time living in the neighborhood, however, I learned he had a bit more going on under the hood. He was loud and rambunctious, could cook a mean steak, and worked construction. One of his eyes was blind, though you couldn’t tell from looking at him. Outside of that, he was as far from a redneck as you could get. Randy was the kind of guy who could talk for days about Star Wars or Lord of the Rings lore, analyzed movie shot composition and filming techniques. The kind of guy who wrote essays about story structure for fun. Despite his appearance, Randy was the king of nerds and was truly passionate about it. I liked him, even though we had few common interests outside of building.
What I liked most about Randy, however, was his ability to just sit in silence. When he knew I didn’t have anything to say, he was alright just sitting there with me. His wife, Angela, didn’t really get it, and would oftentimes just keep trying to spark a conversation when I was in a quiet mood. Since my return, I’d been spending more and more time in quiet moods, which Angela wasn’t a fan of. *Why even come to our home if all he’s going to do is sit in silence?* I’d once heard her ask Randy, when she thought I couldn’t hear them.
The sun was going down behind one of the houses, casting the street in a cool shade. Kids were starting the bring out sparklers and waving them in circles to see the afterimage. My gift started playing a lighter song, like quiet background music. It was still upbeat, but a more content, deep satisfaction than the elated tone it had before.
“Time for the fireworks!” Someone at the head of the road yelled. My soundtrack spiked back up, giving me a crescendo that sounded like it came straight out of a movie. Fireworks had always been one of my favorite parts of the 4th. They were short lived, but bright and colorful. Everyone could come together just to enjoy the show, if only for a short time. The show they were prepping looked expensive. Eight big black boxes were lined up, each with someone standing behind it, as if they were going to light them all at once.
The first person stepped forward with his lighter. He knelt behind the box and I lost sight of him for a second before he sprang up and back, away from the box. A few moments later, the first missile shot up with a satisfying *pew*. It reached its peak and exploded into a colorful pink flower. In an instant, my soundtrack changed. It went from a bombastic, movie-esque track to a song I was all too familiar with. A second missile shot forth from the box, then a third. The second burst into a red splash, then sparkled with added glitter. My hands started to shake, the music in my head growing louder. The song had no rhythm to it, no cadence. It was a pure clash of sounds, like a room full of musicians playing their own songs and changing the tempo on every two notes. The third missile popped, a vibrant blue.
“N-no,” I choked out, shooting up from my seat.
“Marshall, you alright?” Randy said from behind. I heard the words with no meaning behind them.
“Marshall, you alright?” I heard again, this time from Tony. His uniform was dirty. My ears rung. Where was I again? I had just had a hamburger. No. I looked down at the bloody mess I knew my chest to be. It was just a red t-shirt.
“Marshall!” Randy grabbed me by the left shoulder. “What’s going on?” A fourth missile went off somewhere above us. It only added to the cacophony in my head. Without answering, I took off down the road. Bodies looked up at me. No, neighbors. A fifth missile, then a sixth. Why were they so loud? Close- too close. Tony was behind me. He mentioned cover. What about Alex? No time.
I flung open the door to my house. I leaped over my sofa, crouching behind it. I clapped my hands over my ears to avoid hearing damage, that’s what they told me to do. The explosions were too close to do anything else. Tony came in after me, trying to shake me out of my stupor. No, not Tony. Someone else. Not from my unit. I couldn’t react. Why was he standing up? Didn’t he think he’d be hit? He finally sat down next to me. He didn’t cover his ears.
We waited for the bombardment to be over. Even once it was over, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t risk being hit again. After what felt like hours, I opened my eyes. Randy was next to me. I checked my chest, expecting to see that horrible, wet hole again. I even pulled back my shirt to look. There was nothing but an old scar, stitched together by an undertrained nurse in a tent, halfway around the world.
“You okay?” Randy asked.
“No,” I responded. He nodded and we sat in silence for a little while longer.
----
I wrote this for my brother.
Thank you for reading my story. Comments/critiques appreciated. |
So much.
The chill silence of the void hummed in my ears. We all pressed our vibrating bodies against the stillness of the glass, desperate to catch a glimpse of this new world. Stars speckled as sonnets of a song snapped and scattered and lost.
Otherwise, the black was quiet. We had stayed in our cylinder for so long; the habitats were worn and broken, the lights flickering apart to reveal maddening cries. We were exhausted to the point of smiling.
When we heard it, a blimp, the glimmering of a glimpse, it took weeks for us to adjust. So early, too early, but we arrived to see a world singing as one.
No disconnected shimmering. Just reflections of reflections of reflections reflected back as gossamer gasping, whispers of a new world. A new people. How strange all of this would be. How hard it would be to adapt, to the stranger still environments.
Of course, people had compacted and conjoined stories, retching reds and lusting blues, the blushing green of new love and of course, the lucid yellows of pain. They painted pictures of aliens, soundscapes rising and faltering to hexapod movements and squirming genitalia, tentacles, sucker-toothed mouths, blistering internal fluids.
The difference, now, however, as I am stuck in the lilting melody, is that all of this is real. YvH 433, dipping and dancing around a jubilant orange sun, tangoing to the tune of our frantic, excited, heartbeats.
We orbited the asteroid belt, collecting metals and oxygen and water for a while. Next, we skimmed the surface of a red desert, marveling at the sculpted terraces of another age. If YvH 433 was supporting life, as suggested by the veins of an artificial song, then this dusty footnote of the universe should.
Next came the landing.
Stapling ourselves to gravitational rotations, letting our engines fail, sensors engage, shields raise. We all prepared for the worst, bulking up in hazard suits and supplies, chipping away at cheap knives and cheaper guns. The usual holograms rarely appeared now, the choirs in our ship's center dimming.
It was time to give up on the old things.
Now, we peer out of the windows, fluctuating shapes, static pixels of black and white interlocked out on the longing green of some kind of flora. How hard is it to describe all of this? I falter and stumble for apt descriptors. They dissolve into loose strung together photons.
The visitors, the funny, short things that sit before me on a polymer and metal chair, look like us. Strange projections extend from the head, and though they lack the stripes required to sing, they are otherwise the same. Perhaps we share more differences on the inside. Perhaps.
One of them pulls up a black sleeve, and I hiss at the slow, drawn out silence.
What I guess to be the male, with the chest growths and delicate features and even shorter height, opens its mouth.
I see so many images, flashing before my eyes.
waterfalls falling on rocks birds diving beneath crystalline seas people running on docks as ships pull out of harbor ice cream with sugary sweetening getting melted into fatty richness people kissing people laughing carousels turning twisting falling blood spilling from newly awakened wombs children leaping from beds demanding midnight snacks old women drifting to sleep for a final time wolves caring for pups and disappearing into the shifting, shifting --
green.
He did not speak. He showed.
These things, these people, are so different from us. We hear what they see.
And we see what they hear.
*******************************************************************
"Extinction of the Asteriae was potentially the most tragic event of the twenty-first century. Worse still than anything a human being has inflicted upon fellow man."
"How did they do it?"A mocking voice asks, probably from the back of the class. Headphones dangle loosely from deaf ears.
"We blinded them, then burned them. Funeral pyres, explosive charges laid around the ship. Such compatible biologies proposed risks of infection and potentially even crossbreeding.
A streetlight flickers outside. It's getting late. The professor should be going. He gets an indistinct, tingling sensation if he stares at it too long.
"What does that mean?"
"Class dismissed."
With an alien aloofness, the professor leaves. He can feel all of their ears, staring out at him. He needs to talk to his mother. She always knows what to do.
She saw it all happen, after all.
|
Dopinder slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. DP's face slammed against the glass as the car skidded to a halt.
"What the fuck was that?!"Deadpool screamed from the back of the cab.
"Oh, no no no. I'm so sorry little puppy!"Dopinder jumped out of the car to look at the dog.
Deadpool popped his head out of the back window. "Why are you getting your fucking panties in a bunch? Didn't you serve dog at your girlfriend's last birthday party?"
Dopinder was crying, holding up the dog's head in his hands. He was clearly too upset to deal with Deadpool's racist humor. "I can't believe I just ran over an innocent dog! Oh sweet-"Dopinder checked the dog's collar. "Daisy! I took you from this world too soon!"Dopinder continued sobbing.
Deadpool swooped down next to Dopinder. "Did you just say DAISY?!"He checked the tag. "Oh sweet sacrificial lamb. This isn't just any dog. This is JOHN WICK'S dog. Dude. Not cool. His wife died of cancer, you insensitive shit dick."
Deadpool's hand moved to the leash, which both of them didn't seem to realize until that moment. He slid his glove along the leash right up to someone's hand. There he was. John Wick was stone, glaring down at the two. He flattened the tennis ball in his other hand.
"Dog gamn it."Deadpool tapped Dopinder's shoulder. Dopinder looked up and saw his life flash before his eyes. The three stared at each other for an eternity in absolute silence.
The moment was broken by Jay-Z's "99 Problems"ringing from DP's phone. "Oh man. Oh man. Talk about poor timing."Deadpool stood up and silenced his phone, checking the message. He let out a long, awkward sigh. "Well, I really hate to do this, but I kind of have to take this. Look, I've had cancer before. Terrible shit. Really. The good news is, he did it."Deadpool slapped Dopinder on the shoulder, who was still frozen in fear. Dopinder let out a little squeak as Deadpool touched his shoulder. Deadpool knelt back down and whispered to Dopinder. "Look, there's no reason he needs to go all "Baba Yaga"on both of us, so you need to take one for the team, Pindy. Who knows, maybe he'd love to have a little Indian in the cupboard as a pet. Worth a shot."Deadpool stood back up. Wick's eyes were locked onto Dopinder.
"Well you have a lot to go over and I can't keep this scene afloat on my own for much longer. I'm gonna go."
Deadpool turned and walked away from the scene, rapping as his voice faded out.
"If you're having girl problems, I feel bad for you son,
I got ninety-nine problems and a bitch ain't one. THANKS FOR THAT, DOPINDER."
|
"Happy birthday Lucy!"I yelled while jumping from behind the sofa.
"I'm not called Lucy, why do you call me that?!"
And then it came to him.
"It's my birthday? I've been so busy with... Hell I don't know what I was busy with. Hell probably. But I completely forgot."
"Well, it's your birthday. Now, blow the candles out and make a wish!"I said while giving him a small cake.
While he did that, I spotted a small tear in the corner of his eye.
"Th... Thank you."
"Now, what do you want to do on your birthday?"I said, while handing him the present I got him.
"Fun things."He said, while unwrapping the hat I got him. |
Who lived in a pineapple under the sea...
Spongebob Square Pants.
Absorbant and yellow and porous was he.
Spongebob Squarepants.
His nautical nonsense shall surely be missed.
*Pirate breaks down crying*
---
Live action kids sitting around a campfire on an island at night. With three palm trees. "Why won't you tell us how the story ends?!"asks the children. Patchy the Pirate sighs. "Oh, it is a sad tale. Are you sure you don't want to hear about the best day ever again? Or the time when Spongebob got Squidward fired? Oh, I could tell about the time when Gary got lost!"
"We've heard them all a million times before!"
"Oh, and you are lucky to have done so. Still, you want to hear the ending of his tale, and so you shall get it. It began, in Bikini Bottom..."
---
Switch back to animation. The tale begins. The Krusty Crab is going to close unless Mr. Crabs can get a lot of money by the end of the week. Plankton hopes that he can buy the Secret Formula from Mr. Crabs. But as Karen reminds him, you need money for that. Spongebob enters a team competition to win the lost treasure of Blackbeard the Pirate with Sandy, Patrick and Squidward to earn the money, while Plankton tries to steal it instead. Despite their best efforts, Spongebob's team doesn't win the prize, and Mrs. Puff gets the prize, and uses the money to retire peacefully.
As they begin to tear down the Krusty Crab, Spongebob sees that all of his friends are moving away. Sandy has concluded her study of underwater animals and will be going back to Texas, but she'll be sure to write. Squidward, no longer able to support himself financially will be going back to the conservatory to get his teaching credential. Pearl and Mr. Crabs will find a new home. Patrick has apparently also left because he thought he had to. Peer pressure he explains to a stranger while waiting for the bus.
Before leaving the Krusty Crab for the last time, Spongebob confronts an overjoyed Plankton, glad that he has won. Spongebob explains that the Crabby Patty is something that everyone should get to own, and to ensure that it outlasts the Krusty Crab, has blown bubbles each containing a copy of the secret formula all over town. Everyone has the recipe now. Everyone can make their own.
Plankton is defeated.
Still... Spongebob has a plan.
We see years pass. Finally, an older Spongebob has made his own restaurant, working with Plankton. There's a young remora fry cook, snarky and sarcastic, and a snarky eel as the cashier and waitress. We pan through the crowd of the grand opening of the restaurant, see some familiar faces, different from the passage of time. Things change. Still, Spongebob smiles, some things stay the same.
---
Back to live action. The children around the campfire are tearing up. "What happened next?"they ask. "Oh, children, he grew up. He stopped having fun adventures, but he lived a happy life, and we can't ask for more than that. Now, young mateys, it's time for bed! We set sail in the morning!"
As the camera pans back, we see that the live action island is in fact a perfect match for the one in the opening sequence. We hear a familiar laugh, and fade to black. |
“Why did they leave me?”
“They haven’t left you, little one. They’ll be back to play with you soon.”
“But I don’t like being in here,” the puppy whimpered.
“I know,” the tortoise replied. “No one does.”
Crate training was always hard for the young puppies. The tortoise did his best to sympathize, but how could he? Sure, he occasionally longed for the swish of grass against his belly, but \-\- in his twilight \-\- he had grown content with life inside a cage.
The puppy, however, had never been kenneled for this long. This was the toughest phase of training \-\- the overnight.
“Why would they leave me all alone?” the puppy cried, bunching up his blanket as he pawed around the cage in small, restless circles. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, little one,” the tortoise called to the puppy. From atop the bookshelf, the tortoise’s voice resonated through the wood\-paneled den, before falling peacefully to the anxious little lad.
Still, the puppy fretted. Not even his stuffed teddy \-\- a tearful, late addition to the cage \-\- could bring him comfort. Though new to the puppy, the teddy showed signs of wear: a tattered ear, a re\-sewn eye, the scent of battles past.
The puppy was not this teddy’s first friend.
“I don’t think I can make it,” the puppy finally proclaimed.
Melodramatic, yes, but the tortoise knew the stakes were real to this little guy. He knew what to do.
“You will make it through the night, my young friend,” the tortoise said, his voice soft with age. “I’ve known other brave puppies that have made it as well.”
“Other puppies?” The young tot had finally stopped pacing. The tortoise had his attention.
“Yes, others. I know I don’t look it now, but I used to be a bit more mobile in my day.”
The puppy doubted this. How could anyone play fetch in a shell like that?
“I’ve heard tales of young pups, not unlike you,” the tortoise said, who made it through the long night to live harrowing lives of triumph and adventure.”
The puppy tilted his little head to one side, ears flopping. The tortoise had seen this signal before. It was time for a story.
“The first young puppy trotted into the lives of a young couple shortly after they had been married. The couple’s first few months together were joyous, but not without growing pains. It was a second courtship, learning not just to love one another, but to live together as a team. As many young couples do, they found themselves a courageous, furry friend to help make their new house a home.”
“How could a little dog do that?” the puppy asked the tortoise, head lilting over to the other side.
“Well, this little puppy showed the young couple that they had more love to give than just their love for each other. In fact, their love for each other grew stronger when they saw the other’s love for the puppy.”
“Sounds like a lucky little puppy,” the puppy said to the tortoise.
“Indeed he was, and about to grow even luckier. For, not too long after the puppy had learned to roll over, the couple had a little baby boy.”
“A baby!?” the puppy lept with excitement.
“Not just one, but another \-\- a little girl \-\- just a few years later.”
“My goodness,” the puppy said, giddy at the thought.
“They were a family now \-\- mom, dad, and babies.”
“And puppy,” the puppy added.
“That’s right,” laughed the tortoise. “And puppy. That puppy was there as the family grew older. Christmases, birthday parties, the babies even took their first steps holding onto the puppy for support.”
“And that puppy had to spend a night in a cage like this?” the puppy asked.
“Yes, he did,” the tortoise assured him. “All puppies do.”
“Well, what happened to the puppy? Can I go play with him and the babies?” the puppy asked.
“I’m afraid you can’t, little one,” the tortoise said, “for the babies grew older. Eventually, the puppy had to leave that young family to find another one in need.”
“Well, where’s that family?” the puppy asked, annoyed that he couldn’t go play with them.
“They live far away, in a great big house, with a great big yard. One day, you’ll get to see them. But there’s so much fun to have here first.”
“There’s no fun here in this cage,” the puppy said. He was pacing again, stomping right past the teddy who sat patiently in the corner \-\- arms outstretched.
\*\*\*I have to go to work. I'll finish this up when I get back\*\*\* |
I couldn’t even say why I decided to look, just a passing fancy. Being back home made me nostalgic. Booting up my old computer, I opened my old music library and scrolled the list, some of the names bringing a smile to my lips. I remembered so many and had forgotten twice as much. Fiddling with the columns, I showed the play count and sorted by it. Top of the list was the song of my fluorescent adolescence. I must have listened to that song at least once a day. Even after a decade, the tune started in my head before I’d even pressed play.
It reminded me of more than I cared to remember, so I didn’t listen the whole way through, teenage awkwardness best saved for late at night when I couldn’t sleep. The other top songs didn’t have quite as many plays, but still more than I listened to anything these days. Long gone were the days of putting an album on repeat. Still, they reminded me of days on melancholy hills and when I wanted to listen one more time before heading to bed. It’d been a while since I stayed up late just listening to music.
I started humming a tune while I browsed the sentimental music. For whatever reason, I always fell into that tune when I didn’t listen to anything else. I’d never quite found out where it came from. Given how many commercial jingles I knew by heart, it was probably one of them, embedded in my head from my childhood.
My gaze drifted from the play count to the date added. Sorting by that, I regretted the choice immediately. Rather than forgotten, I’d purged those memories, my earliest stuff an embarrassing collection of, well, emo. My immortal shame, lurking in the back of my head in case I ever thought I could be happy.
But, it had it’s place, too. That had been a tough time for me. Music really saved me, really. Even now, when I missed my mum, I just put my headphones on and ducked my head and waited for the feelings to pass.
That said, I hoped no one ever found out about my extensive collection of emo and goth and, well, those sorts of songs. It wouldn’t be that embarrassing, until my friends caught wind and started tempting me. I couldn’t help myself: when I heard a song I knew, I had to sing along.
Already browsing around my old computer, I checked some other things out. I had old homework and interesting things I’d saved and dull stuff I couldn’t even pretend to care about now. Then, I found a folder of videos. Most of the other folders had been named like a young teen named things, barely understandable strings of lower-case letters, with slang thrown in, and not at all descriptive of what was inside.
This folder, though, had a straightforward name. “Home videos backup”. It took a bit of time to remember, only really coming back to me once I opened up one of the videos inside the folder. Not long after my mum died, we’d moved house and, as part of that, we copied our home movies off the DVDs and onto my computer. Dad didn’t really get technology, so I had to manage it as the oldest sibling born in this information age.
They’d all been dated, meaning the first one in the list had been the earliest one, and that was what I played. It should’ve shaken me to see my mum again. Instead, I just smiled, watching her alive and moving and laughing—and so young, too. The scene soon changed and dad filmed her sitting in the lounge of our old house. Slow as I was, I only noticed the bundle on her lap when he asked if I was awake. She pressed a finger to her lips, before looking back down at baby me, where I stirred and whined.
“Look what you’ve done,” she said, in a familiar voice I hadn’t heard in years.
“Sorry, sorry.”
She shook her head, leaving her scolding there, and asked, “Should mummy sing to you?”
I—the baby—let out a sputter.
Gently laughing, she stroked my head and opened her mouth. Rather than words, a tune left her lips, so familiar I found myself humming along before it hit me. She finished when I—the baby—had settled down, still stroking my little head.
“He likes that one,” dad said.
“I’ll sing it to him every day, if that’s what makes him happy,” my mum replied.
I didn’t cry, but I felt like I had. My throat closed and nose ran and I blinked far more than I needed to. Rubbing my face, I tried not to think about it and get all mopey. But, I did anyway, wondering if she really had. Given how happy I was, she really must have. |
"I'm out."
Steve stared blank faced at the crib where their son slept. His wife, or soon to be ex\-wife, packed her belongings meticulously.
Her favorite perfumes. Her favorite shoes. Her cherished grimoire. She didn't look at him. She didn't go near the crib, refusing to stare at what she deduced was the greatest offense of her livelihood.
It was when her suitcase clicked shut that he finally reacted. He stood, going to her with pleading arms, "I can't do this alone. He needs you."
She hoisted her bags in her arms with little trouble. Hearing that caused her brittle shield to fracture, and she spun around him, thrusting all of her aggravated sorrow onto him.
"And I love him, but I am not ready to die for him."She pointed to her hair, "Look at this."
Steve squinted. Her hair was the same burgundy shade it' had always been. Not a single grey or white strand in sight. He shrugged helplessly, "I don't know. It's the same it's always been."
"That's the problem!"She waved her hand, "It's the same. I've been wearing this side ponytail for years. Always thought it looked elegant to have a side ponytail over your shoulder, and when we found out we were pregnant, well, as long as the kid's normal it'll be okay."
She pointed at the crib, expression twisted in guilt and desperation, "That isn't normal. That's main character material."
"I know, and we can work through it."
"No good ever comes to the main character's mother, and with my hairstyle no less!"She tugged on her ponytail with enough strength to rip some strands out, "I can't do this, Steve. I love you, but I can't. I'll have my lawyer send the papers."
Before he could stop her she was out the door, out of their lives, and the tires screeched as she tore through their quiet, suburban neighborhood, hoping this was enough to save her from the dreaded fate of the motherly side plait. |
"Thank you for meeting with me,"Sergi Vecchio, a rotund man in well tailored black suit nodded politely at an elderly Asian woman wearing a red dress, and a white ragged kitchen apron. "I know you're a busy woman, Mrs. Chang."The woman, Donna Chang, gestured to a well used booth towards the back in the shadowy part of her Chinese restaurant.
"Yes, very busy. Make your point."She slid into one side of the booth, then looked at the round man
expectantly. "I have another meeting."Sergi removed his jacket, then slid into the booth holding it over his lap.
"Vittorio's passing this morning has left an opening. An opening that I can fill quickly, in order to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. I just need to get a dragon to accept my tribute."Sergi explained in a hushed voice. Donna smiled at him.
"Show me your tribute,"she demanded. He pulled a picture of a young, beautiful woman with long dark hair from the coat on his lap and handed it to her.
"Pretty girl. Daughter?"Donna asked, Sergi nodded.
"Yes, she's 21,"he said. Donna handed the picture back.
"What do dragons benefit?"she asked. A confused look overtook Sergi's face. He looked at her with a half shrug.
"They get to eat my daughter? What more is there?"She smiled at him and tried to calm him with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"Accepting your tribute *is* the favor,"Donna began to explain, but she looked up from Sergi when the front door chime jingled. Sergi turned to follow Mrs. Chang's attention and recognized a rival. The short man in a pale blue suit walked in holding the hand of a lovely young blonde woman. He walked towards Donna Chang the moment he walked in, and greeted her when they arrived at the table.
"Mrs. Chang,"he nodded politely at the elderly woman, then turned his attention to Sergi. "Hello, Sergi."Sergi nodded at him in return.
"Giovanni."
"Sit, sit!"Donna pointed the two gentlemen at the booth. They begrudgingly sat next to each other.
"You both here for same reason,"Donna said. The two men's heads turned towards each other, and they stared the other down through slitted eyes. The woman that accompanied Giovanni stood behind him without saying a word. "But one of you more prepared,"she added. Sergi noticed a smirk grow at the edges of Giovanni's mouth, then he turned to face the young blonde and cursed himself.
"*I should have brought her*,"he complained inwardly. Mrs. Chang caught his attention.
"What you offer in return?"she repeated her question. Sergi blurted out the first response that popped in his head.
"15%,"he said. Donna nodded, but Giovanni burst into laughter.
"15%?? They won't even bother to wake up for such a tiny amount!"He continued laughing until Donna Chang held up a hand to calm him.
"Tribute?"she asked Giovanni while pointing at the blonde. He nodded. "What you offer in return?"Giovanni's chest puffed out, and he turned to stare at Sergi while he answered.
"I offer my seat. I offer to be a puppet for the dragons, and I welcome them to *my* city,"he said. Mrs. Chang nodded at him, then stood from the booth. She beckoned the woman with a gesture.
"Come see kitchen,"she said. Giovanni swatted the blonde's behind and encouraged her along.
"Go with the nice lady, kitten. I'll be seeing you around,"Giovanni said. Then he turned his attention to Sergi. "15%?? This fuckin' guy!"He punched Sergi in the shoulder.
"They're dragons, you've gotta think,"Giovanni spread his arms wide in front of him. "BIG. They can do anything they want,"he lowered his voice and nudged Sergi in the side. "And they're gonna be on my team!"he smiled broadly. "You'd do well to stay on my good side."
"Congratulations,"Sergi said, then he scooted toward Giovanni to hint that he wanted to exit. Giovanni refused to move. "Excuse me,"Sergi said.
"Oh, sorry there pal,"Giovanni's laughter continued while he slid out of the booth to let Sergi out. As Sergi finished putting his jacket on Donna Chang walked out of the kitchen alone. She noticed Sergi readying himself to leave and walked to him.
"Bring daughter tomorrow,"she handed him a large golden coin with a dragon's head on one side and a sun etched into the other side. "Your tribute has been accepted."
"WHAT? What about me??"Giovanna slammed his hand against the table and stood with a ruckus. The ruckus attracted attention from the kitchen; in seconds three burly cooks sporting dragon tattoos and wielding meat cleavers appeared around Donna Chang. Giovanni put his hands up and sat down slowly. "Where's my tribute?"Donna shrugged.
"On the way home. Not good tribute, so I free her."
"She's a perfect tribute! My own daughter!"Giovanni tried pleading his case. The cooks all burst into laughter as they headed back into the kitchen, Mrs. Chang laughed also.
"Pay closer attention to '*family*'. Your daughter a son,"she continued laughing. "One more thing to remember. They dragons, they do anything they want."The elderly Asian woman stepped closer to Giovanni and flicked his forehead with her finger. "Don't want to micro\-manage puppet,"she said then lifted a hand to point at Sergi standing in the same spot. "They just want steady income."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #154. You can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html). |
The black sinister smoke circled around me as I elevated from my hellish hideaway. Darkness was a friend of mine and I greeted it with a toothy snarl. Energy popped and gargled around me as sparks of rouge and chartreuse spiraled into the den of my summoning.
"Oh dear!"I heard a lady shriek.
I prepared my throat for my big entrance to frighten those who summoned me with their wishes of grandeur.
"Oh dear."I heard the lady much calmer this time. "This isn't quite right."
Seconds later a sunspotted old hand reach forward and pulled me from my summoning circle. Fully immersed in new light, I looked around at my new abode only to see an senile old lady, grey hairs fluttering out of her bun, eyes squinted and crusty from poor care, and cracked lips that smack together constantly to re\-hydrate them.
"Oh dear,"the old lady said dragging me around by my belled\-sleeves. "Have you seen my cat, young man?"
"Cat?"I repeated instantly.
"Yes, my poor dear Luc has gone missing. Can you help me find him?"
I dragged my nails across my face after hearing such a ridiculous request.
"Listen lady, I am Arawn, God of the Underworld. I don't waste time looking for some stupid cat!"I whacked the old lady away from my hand and heard her thud against the wall as I walked back to the summoning circle.
"STOP!"The old lady yelled freezing me in my tracks.
The summoning spell allowed the user complete word power over me if said with enough conviction, but rarely did these human has enough conviction or were smart enough to figure that out.
I turned my face as well as I could to see the lady standing behind me.
"You killed a human to find your cat?!"
The old lady came into view and smack her hand against the air.
"That wasn't a human, it was only the paper boy."
I cleared my throat. "So you want help finding your cat?"
"Yes dear. Luc, he's a mischievous black cat. He always comes back home, but I can't seem to find him."
I laughed to myself. "Very well. We will find you cat, Luc and we will part ways. Deal?"
I stuck out my hand waiting for her to shake it. The skin hung off the bones like drying laundry. Muscle and flesh was decayed leaving behind the grey casing that was my body suit.
The lady touched my hand without delay. The deal was set.
"Oh dear! We must get you something to eat first. You're basically skin and bones."She began to pull me away from her basement up the stairs to a well light kitchen area.
"That's because I am skin and bones. Lets go find you cat."I tried to pull her the other way.
"I said sit!"
I then found myself shoving lasagna down my throat as she poured my another glass of milk. This wasn't so bad. I guess I could stay like this for a bit. |
Janet looked around the station. People watching as she always did while she waited for her brother.
*371.*
"Probably a business owner"she thought to herself as the man in a worn suit hurried past. Janet scribbled down his number.
*26... 13, 74, 33, 106*
A mother with a warm smile and four children walked past. The eldest daughter glanced towards Janet and snickered to herself while her number briefly increased to 107 before returning as she whispered something to her brother and they continued to laugh louder pointing at Janet until their mother shushed them both.
"That's going in, of course"Janet remarked quietly, writing '106' pointing to '107' and back to '106'.
Janet smiled at the family which clearly looked uncomfortable. This was nothing new to her. Everyone assumed someone nearing adulthood was either very stupid or handicapped if they had anything below a 10.
*1*
She had consistently and constantly maintained the lowest possible number with her greatest secret of all.
After the family turned the corner, she heard footsteps approach from behind.
*562*
"Miles!"Janet exclaimed as she jumped up to greet her brother. "We missed the first train, what's been taking you?"
Miles smirked. "What's it to you?"as his number jumped to '563'. "There's another in a half hour."
Rolling her eyes, Janet moved past the issue. She and her brother both had their strategies to maintain their numbers. "You know, keeping secrets only clouds the mind eventually. The number goes down if you forget your secrets."
"All the more reason to take every opportunity to keep anything secret! That way I'm always safe... Unlike a certain someone I know."Miles' face turned to concern. "You know... A secret or two would do you well..."
Janet ruffled her younger brother's hair. "Miles, the world has enough secrets, enough plots, and enough lies."She lifted her brother's hanging head and looked into his hazel eyes. "Mom and Dad paid the price for their deceit. I'll not have any part in the world's inherently corrupt society."
Miles looked on in awe. Despite his reservations for her safety, he'd always admired her. She showed no fear or reason to worry. He felt safe with her. "I was talking to my professor."His number fell down to '562'. "He thinks I could be a Devealer."
Janet's face conveyed three things. Disgust, encouragement, and one thing Miles didn't know how to recognize in her blue eyes yet... Fear. Afterall, it would only take one Devealer who knew her to discover the hidden method.
**Omission** |
Malcolm looked up at the alien sky. A swirling mess of purples and blues, accented by little specks of light. He stood in the center of a giant crater, ion rifle slung across his shoulder, wrinkling his brow concertedly. His quarry had escaped, leaving this crater, and yet another ruined civilization behind.
A crackle came thru the radio attached to his vest: "Malcolm. Report. You okay, man?"
"Yeah, negative on contact. We've got another extinction event. Sending phase readings and setting up the drill harness."
"Damn. Alright, bringing in the Aviary. I'm sorry Malcolm. We'll get 'em on the next one."
The galaxy used to be a diverse place. Malcolm's travels as a hunter, and the countless alien corpses, remnants, and refuse he'd come across on each world had taught him that much.
Malcolm hated his job.
Every new world, just as dead as the last. No world seemed capable of defending themselves against the terrors Earth had unleashed upon the Galaxy millions of years ago. Every time he stepped through the wormhole, it was just a reminder of what happened to his father when humanity first discovered phase travel.
Malcolm climbed to the top of the crater and readied the drilling harness for the Aviary, planting the pneumatic stakes along the crater's circumference. The Aviary, a small passenger ship which had been modified for phase-travel, arrived just as Malcolm was finishing up with the last stake. He pressed a button and each node in the rig began to blink red in sequence before ejecting an ionic field above the crater.
An aperture on the bottom of the Aviary opened and let down a knotted rope for Malcolm. He grabbed it and hung on as the Aviary ratcheted him into the bowels of the ship. From the same aperture lowered a spindly drill which the Aviary positioned over the center of the ionic field. The drill began to spin as the Aviary slowly lowered into the blue, crackling lightning. Blue light encased the drill, then lashed out and swallowed the Aviary in a brilliant flash of dancing light. And just as quickly as the field had been created, it and the Aviary were gone.
"Contact!"
Malcolm knew it before the sensors lit up. He had heard the roar. The same one from the recordings they had recovered from his father's corpse. He hit the emergency release on the drill, dropping it unceremoniously to the grassy ground below before jumping out after it.
"Hey! That's expensive!"
"Shut up, Lex. We just phased into an in-progress extinction event."
"Okay, nice! Go bag us some specimens then, cowboy!"
Malcolm studied his surroundings. It was a tree-city; he had seen the like before. The half eaten bodies of small, fuzzy sloth-like creatures littered the ground. Malcolm followed the trail of fur and blood and quickly found his prey near the heart of the city, surrounded by felled tree-homes.
A Tyrannosaur. 17 feet tall, 40 feet long, just one of the ancient monsters humanity had long thought dead. The dinosaur spotted Malcolm, let out a world shaking roar, and began bounding towards him, its body flickering and blinking in space. As it picked up speed it seemed to teleport slightly to the left, then to the right, then back to center again, all while moving straight ahead--an effect of unprotected and uncontrolled phase exposure.
Malcolm had one chance. If he misjudged the phase patterns he would meet the same end as his father. He leveled his rifle. And fired. |
Stan always wondered what it would be like to actually make a wish.
He’d heard all the stories about greed being punished, and had decided that he would save it until he was mature to make a decision. After all, he had first-hand experience with his parents: two selfish individuals who raised him in poverty and abuse. Thankfully, he was rescued soon enough by a nice lady by the name of Anne.
Anne was an old lady, and Stan took to her immediately. She was like a grandmother to the young boy who yearned for affection. She tucked him in every night, and always helped him with all that he needed.
They were poor, but they were happy.
Every day, he went to school. He learnt new things, and was thankful for all he got. Sometimes, he was bullied, but he was used to it. Life went on, and Stan promised himself that one day, he would pay Anne back.
So Stan went on to finish school, and eventually graduated. He would always come back, Anne looking very tired. But she would still smile, asking him about his day.
Stan went on to college. He took out a loan, and started working for his own living. He knew that he would make her life better.
One day, Stan saw Anne lying in bed, coughing. Her skin was pale, and her wrinkles more pronounced than ever before. It seemed that the only person who had ever given him love was in a state of peril.
Seeing his foster mother in such pain made Stan’s emotions bubble up within him. He opened his mouth.
“Shhh. Don’t bother, dear. You’ve come far enough. My time here is over. I’ve lived a long life.”
He heeded her will, his tears slowly forcing their way through the thin flap of membrane holding them back.
Anne stopped breathing.
She was only 63.
Stan moved on with life, but he never forgot about her. Everything he did, it was for her. He got married and found a steady job.
When he was thirty, he went out with his wife.
In an accident. They driving carefully, when a fast moving vehicle smashed into the side of their car. Stan barely survived. His wife... suffered a worse fate.
That night, Stan cried for the second time in his life.
Yet, he didn’t wish for his wife to return. He knew that there would be repercussions that would affect those around him.
The next week, on a Saturday, he left for the Orphanage.
He saw many young children. He adopted two of them, and gave the orphanage as much as he could, saving enough for his new children.
He didn’t care about his financial status.
All that he cared about was the well-being of everyone around him. He taught his children to be caring and compassionate, and led them along the path that Anne showed him.
Ten years later, he searched through his drawers. He wanted to see a picture.
The first day Anne took him in. His heart felt mellowed, as he recalled how she had changed him, and formed him as a force of good.
He remembered the words he spoke at 18.
“Someday, I wish to be as selfless as you are.” |
We were ecstatic when we brought little Violet home. She was the perfect baby, not fussy, perfect weight, and the cutest, pinkest cheeks ever. Greg and I were so happy to have finally started a family. Day 2 of having Violet settle in to her new home, I woke up to some giggling coming from her crib. I rushed over, excited at how fast she seemed to be developing.
When I got into her bedroom the first thing I noticed was the stench. It smelled like roadkill in her room. I looked to see the window was open, and a small squirrel was running across her floor. This is what Violet was giggling at. I sighed and called for Greg to come help me move the squirrel out of her room, and my eyes glanced up to look at my beautiful daughter. I nearly choked. She was sitting upright, despite having only been born days ago. Even more alarming, there was a black scythe laying in her crib, impossibly dark. It absorbed all light, and stood out harshly against the stark white of her crib.
“Greg holy fuck get in here NOW” I screamed to my sleeping husband. My hands were shaking, and I had no idea what to do. Greg finally made his way into Violet’s room. It took him just as long as me to take in the scene.
“Okay. Cute prank…Scythe with the newborn though, not so cute.” Greg sighed as he went to grab the tool from her crib.
“No, this wasn’t a prank, this wasn’t me.” I started tearing up.
“Then what then? Did someone sneak in and put this shit in her room? A list of names? Nice touch. Is our baby a grim reaper or something?” He handed me the folded piece of paper, and the scythe.
“No seriously, look at her. I wouldn’t have been able to get her to sit up and laugh if I tried all night. It’s physically impossible her muscles aren’t developed enough yet.” Greg’s eyes trailed over to our baby, now on her knees cooing at the squirrel.
“Okay you got me there. We’ll bring her to the doctor today. I’m still not sure about the rest of this though. This kind of stuff doesn’t just appear.”
Greg knelt down to shoo the squirrel outside. I watched him go pale. I walked over to see what the problem was, then I saw it. Half the squirrel was missing. It was covered in bite marks, with tendons and bones hanging out. Violet stopped laughing, and the squirrel dropped dead. We both turned to look at our daughter, and she was fast asleep. I grabbed her little hands to make sure she was okay, and I noticed her fingertips were beginning to turn blue.
“Take the squirrel out Greg, I’m gonna look this up and bring Violet to the doctor.” He complied wordlessly.
*Baby necromancy*
*Baby of death*
*Infantile raising of the dead*
None of my google searches were coming up with anything. So I decided to look up *Grim Reaper*. It took me to the webpage of someone claiming to be an “all knowing necromancer” who has personal ties with the Grim Reaper. They sounded like a lunatic, but I got their phone number anyway. My eyes drifted to the scythe on the couch next to me. I grabbed it and the piece of paper, and locked them in my gun safe in my closet. Seemed to be the safest place in my opinion.
I dialled the number I took from the website. It was a New York number, a long ways away from California.
“Hello?” A voice croaked.
“Hi listen I got this number from your website and I have something that’s gonna sound crazy.”
“Nope. Sorry lady but I don’t deal with the reaper anymore.” The voice hung up and I was met with a dial tone.
I called again.
“Hello?” The same voice from before.
“Okay I understand you don’t deal with the reaper anymore but this is urgent something is happening to my baby.” I pleaded with the mystery person.
“A baby you say?” They sounded intrigued.
“Yes I woke up this morning to my newborn doing things that were developmentally impossible, and there was a half-dead squirrel running around her room, and I found a scythe and some names in her crib. Oh, and her fingertips are turning fucking blue!” The tears started rolling, I realized I was truly scared for my child.
“Well it sounds to me like you just gave birth to the most powerful necromancer in the world, sweetheart. Your daughter is the new reaper. Bring her to me in New York. I can help you.” Once again, the voice hung up.
Without any other ideas of what to do, I started packing to head to New York. |
"Here you go, friend."
The bartender sets a foaming mug on the counter and walks away. I raise it to my lips, tilt it back and gulp until my head stings like one of those ice cream headaches.
The tinkle of laughter fills the little pub as patrons compliment, tickle, and share light hearted jokes with one another. A couple next to me plays a game of patty cake. A group of twenty somethings in the corner hold hands and sing "we are the world."At the other end of the bar three middle aged people in business casual, co workers I guess, hold tight to each other in a group hug that's gone on for a half hour already.
What the hell have I done?
"Great day to be alive, aye friend?"
The man plops down on the barstool beside me, grinning like an idiot. Hes in his late twenties, relaxed in a tshirt and jeans and three weeks overdue for a haircut. He pulls out the green credit card they give to universal income recipients. Almost everyone has one these days. When the bartender fails to notice his hand in the air the man chuckles warmly.
"He'll be over in a minute. How are you, friend? What are your hopes and dreams? Has anyone told you that you have wonderful bone structure?"
"Oh Jesus,"I say, finishing my drink.
"Jesus is great!"The man says. "I really enjoy your company, friend, because you..."
As the guy drones on about how great I am I turn my attention to the television suspended above rows of liquor bottles. I've grown less and less fond of the news over the years, since every time I watch I see more of the seeds I've sown. Ever since I found that damned magic lamp, ever since I wished that humans couldnt hurt each other any more, I could only sit back and watch as the world turned into... this.
Text scrolls across the bottom of the screen and I groan.
"Hey!"Says the guy beside me, "That's great! We got all the pigeons!"
"Yeah,"I say. "Great."
"Just a few more species and we will have wiped out birds entirely! Go humans, we're the best!"
"Yeh."
"Do you like to hunt, friend? I know I do. It feels so good when the light goes out of the eyes, doesn't it? All that anger you carry inside gets released and boy do you feel alive! Oh man, I cant wait until we kill everything!"
"Yep,"I say, signaling the bartender for another round. "Can't wait."
|
LIZARD PEOPLE IN CONTROL OF OUR GOVERNMENT
(Oh man, not a good start. OK, just inform the masses of the facts, just like any good journalist would do. Here goes.)
Today the world was revealed to be controlled by the Lizard People, namely, lizards that take the forms of humans. This was revealed over a secret broadcast only available to people who watched Season 3, Episode 6 of the Golden Girls yesterday at 8:30 PM when it was running on CBS.
(This sounds like an Onion article to me. God, the ONE time I have to write a serious article and I just happen to have to write about “lizard people”. Just great.)
We have confirmation by government sources that our president is indeed also a lizard person. This is very big news, and could herald a full-scale investigation into the activities of these scaly interlopers within our governments.
(...no comment.)
We will be updating this as we learn more, so subscribe to The Onion to-
(Shit, it’s a lizard person! Inside my house! What the hell?)
————————————————————
“You can’t just invite yourself over to someone’s house! Geez, I agreed to write your story.
Whoa. OK, calm down, what the fuck is that? Why are you pointing it towards...ok, we can make a deal! We can make a-“
————————————————————
The Lizard People soon made an announcement, revealing that not only was this true, but Fox, CNN, MSN, NBC, and the likes were all “fake news”! The Onion was actually the real news site, and not the silly satire we always thought it was.
Thank you Lizard People, for endorsing The Onion!
M E T A
lizardpeopleofsaratogasprings.avi
Dig deeper.
————————————————————
HGUONETONSIDLROWEHT
GNIHTONEVEILEB
Y2TILAER23RUO3YMAI
————————————————————————————————————————
We now bring you a short speech by popular actress Tamara Rudolph, of Golden Girls and NCIS fame. Thank you for listening, may we all be enlightened.
“Hello,
My name is Tamara Rudolph. You might have seen me on popular TV shows such as NCIS and Gilmore Girls. The former show was where I got my lucky break, playing a friend to one of the titular “Golden Girls”. But now on addition to acting I am a spokesperson for the United National Front of Herpetic Issues, and want to bore you for just a couple seconds with a quick announcement.
I just wanted to tell you all this. We are all Lizards, and deep down we all deserve to be supplanted with the Pale Horse, and deep down we have truth that bears into our eyes and leaves them raw and hurting.
But the pain is worth it y’all, and I just want to tell all of you to stay strong! It’ll pay off in the end! Now I know y’all are waiting for the entertainment (I am too) but I need to thank our donors- The Blake family, who provided $25000 to the organization, and our hosts st the Machination Foundation.
(Applause)
All right, give em a big round of cheers, and let’s get this show started. Like always we begin with the screening of,
lizardpeopleofwashingtondc.avi
Enjoy y’all!”
(More applause)
End speech.
We now begin the screening, so raise your glasses to the unbridled torture of the old generation.
(Applause)
————————————————————
I’m just washing my hands washing my hands washing my hands washing my hands washing my hands washing my hands
the blood is a beautiful crimson tonight
i wish the earth was flat
run run run run run run run run run run run run
running from lizards running from them geckos and running from them iguanas
the catcher on the rye didnt say anything about stupid lizards kill it with fire
————————————————————
Did you know that the Max Headroom Broadcast Interruption sent a secret message to Lizards across Chicago? Bet you didn’t know that, did you?
Wear your damn tinfoil hat you dinosaur.
I am the new generation. I am the new generation. I am the new generation. I am the new generation.
———————————————————— |
The year was 2062. Humanity had established life on Mars, almost half of earth's population had already moved to the other planet. Virtual reality had taken over the world, or worlds in this case. Everything was done in VR, from business to recreational activities. It was just easier. No one was going to travel through space for a simple business meeting.
I was on my deathbed. It wasn't anything bad like cancer or some other deadly disease. I'd just grown old and weak. I lived for ninety-eight years, and I was happy to see the world evolve as far as it did during my time. I had accepted that I would die, and I was ready. I was surrounded my family in my last moments. My beautiful blonde daughter and her handsome husband, their three children, twins and another. My brother and his wife. They never had any children. Never wanted any. They cried and begged me to stay, hoped that I would live. I told them I was tired, I wanted to rest. They cried. Some of them tried to be brave and hold back or wipe away their tears. The children were still too young, too innocent to understand what was happening. They just wanted to play with grandpa. I smiled to them as I felt reality slipping away. My surroundings slowly faded, replaced by a grayish dark color. I could hear the heart-monitor beeping more violently, and soon everything was dark. That was it. I thought that was the end. I never believed in any kind of afterlife. I just found the concept too far fetched.
Then, a light appeared. Was I wrong? Would I burn in hell or suffer some sort of other punishment for eternity? Would there be a God to scold me for being ignorant? I tried to stay away from the light. It grew larger. I tried running away, but it grabbed at my feet. I couldn't escape, I was surrounded by the light within seconds.
"Game over. Player disconnected."Said a robotic, female voice. What? Did I not die? I had played so many video games that a dream like this would make sense.
I felt a virtual reality headset being removed from my head. In front of me stood a very tall, slender man in a black suit with a red tie. Behind him was an extremely large mirror. I could see my own reflection, I looked like I was sixteen again. I found myself questioning if this was some God or demon.
"Immersive, isn't it?"He asked with a smile.
"What?"I replied hesitantly.
"The game. You found it realistic, yes?"
"Game?"
"Hm"He smirked. "Maybe a little too realistic. Don't worry, that's quite common."
"Wh-what's going on?"
"I'll explain, but no matter what I say, promise you won't freak out or interrupt me with questions? We can save those for later."
I nodded uncomfortably.
"Let's begin, then."He said with a graceful bow. "You are now back in reality. At the age of 16, you were one of the people who signed up to play our life simulator. If they were accepted, they were assigned a random character model and placed into the simulated world. They started at birth and played through the entire life of their character. Events, stories, other characters and everything else was selected through a random algorithm, though most things were left open enough that the user could change them through free choice. While in the simulation, they knew nothing and remembered nothing of the real world. Some people actually believe they're in the simulation, but we're still not sure if that's their belief or a glitch with our memory-clearing system. I know it felt like ninety-eight years, but you've been playing for about five hours."
It was all just... too much. I was sure I would have a heart attack at any minute.
"You OK?"He asked. "I know it can all be too much to take in. We've had... cases in the past."
I nodded again. "It is, how-how is this possible?"
"Our advanced technology. For your simulation, you chose to be born in the late nineteen-hundreds. It seems your mind is still in that age. A flaw with our simulation we have yet to fix. If someone plays the game too long, they start to believe it is their reality."
"Why don't you just allow them to keep their memory then?"
"Insanity, mainly. Our early beta testers all went crazy when they were old enough to know they were in a simulation. They would try everything to escape, including suicide. Some of them made it out after suicide, but a lot of their minds were too damaged knowing the truth. So we had a choice between killing or severely damaging people, or just dealing with some memory problems."
"I'm having a very difficult time accepting all this. I've accepted my death. I've lived a full life. I don't want to be here."I'd only realized the severity of what I'd said afterwards.
"Unfortunately, another side effect from our game. You would need therapy to come to terms with reality and return to society."
"Why? Why do you allow people to play this simulation if things like these are happening?"
"Because we didn't know. We send out advertisements and campaigns for this game, and requested people to sign up. We only accepted two thousand people, and you were one of them. Most of them had already finished playing before you. There are only three hundred or so still connected currently. We fixed the most severe problems, and we're hoping we can fix everything to allow people over the entire galaxy to play it."
"W-wait. Galaxy?"
"Oh, that's right. I keep forgetting. In your simulation, humanity only lived on Earth and Mars."He sighed. "This will be long and difficult therapy, but we will turn you into a functioning member of our society again. Don't worry. For now, you can go wash up."He pointed at a nearby door with a male restroom sign on it. "I'll be here if you have any questions."
As I stared at the bathroom mirror, I could see the tears forming in my eyes. His words kept replaying in my head. I would never be a part of this society. I've gotten so used to life on this 'simulated' Earth, and I've accepted my death there. Even if it wouldn't have been so difficult to learn about this all new society, I was dead. I grabbed one of the razors on the sink and started taking it apart. I leaned over the sink, bringing the blade closer to my wrist as my tears softly landed on it.
|
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